#and finally this goes here as well

[7cfc00]

Until then, stay safe.

[WOE.BEGONE, Season 10]

[inklore]

just watched the video on reddit where someone turned down the music on the carriage scene and

[crybaby-bkg]

wanna bug Toji soooo bad while he’s on the phone. his ass doesn’t have a job so it’s not like he’s discussing important business, but he likes to make it look that way. phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he uses one hand to rub circles on your exposed thigh, the other flipping through the tv channels. he’s speaking in a low tone, his eyebrows mused together in agitation as he calls the guy on the other line a barrage of insulting names.

and you’re just a simple person—the man looks hot as fuck like that and you just have to bother him. so you do, despite the side eye he gives you when you swing your leg over, foot in the air, right in his face. he swats you away gently before going back to his phone call, bites at your toes when you still try to wiggle them in his face.

"If you think you can lowball me like that, then you're stupider than I thought." Toji grunts to the other man on the phone, distracted once more. a little peeved that his attention isn't on you much anymore, you do what any little conniving imp would do.

you sit on his lap. backwards, facing the TV, looking over your shoulder at him with such an evil little grin that it makes his eyes squint to you in warning. but you've never listened much, especially when you know you'll be rewarded so plentifully in the end.

so you rock your hips, just slightly the first few times. your legs sat on either side of him, hands resting in the space between his legs on the bed, leaning your weight back on his hips that you sit against. instantly, you can feel the swell of him beneath his sweats, feel the thickness that you love to fill you up start to twitch when you circle your hips, grinding them oh so slowly against his covered cock.

when you look over your shoulder again, Toji only stares, the slightest lilt of his lip turning up at the corners. he tries to act unbothered, one arm bent back to rest his head against, the other holding the phone to his ear. but you can see through him, and feel just how bothered he really is.

so you up the ante; start to lift and drop your hips slow, slow, slow at first before the pace begins to build. you lean forward on your elbows, pull your underwear up until the curve of your ass is exposed, gasping from the friction, from the feeling of his cock rubbing so sweetly at your slit through the thin cotton.

you look over your shoulder once more, grinning, biting at your lip as you grind against him, close to completion. he can see it all in your eyes.

"Gonna call you back later. Got some important shit to take care of right now." Toji hangs up without preamble, gaze distant as he focuses on the ever growing spot of your arousal that starts to leak onto his own sweats.

but you're a little minx, with the way you scramble from his grasp before he can catch you, laughing when he snags your ankle to drag you back down. he's suddenly kneeling over you, grin sharp and ferocious, the straining of his cock through his sweats hanging so intimidatingly low, that if you lift your hips just a little, his tip would kiss your clit in the sweetest kiss.

"And where do you think you're going, you little brat?" Toji growls, dropping down to nip at the base of your neck, licking over your pulse point.

"Not letting me off the hook that easy, huh?" you tease, hands splayed beside your head in surrender, just wanting a little bit of the chase before the devouring. and by the look in his eyes, you know you'll only be bones by morning.

"Not in a million years." he promises right before the inevitable pounce.

[batwynn]

A Snow Queen Sterek art commission for @nerdherderette !

[whenthegoldrays]

Mansfield Park + text posts

[mirrortouchedsea]

(CW for Suicidal Ideation)

Hinata’s breath was heavy as he landed the final move of their act. The tinny music playing from their speakers went quiet and the audience clapped politely. It was always the same song and dance as the crowd moved on with their day. A few of them tossed some yen their way but otherwise it was time for them to regroup for their next performance. Yuta knelt down by the hat with some coins and bills sticking out of it, counting their earnings thus far. 

“Hey aniki! We might be able to eat well tonight! There’s like 3,000 yen in here!” Yuta exclaimed. The idea of a filling dinner made Hinata’s mouth water. Oh what he wouldn’t do for even warm noodles not from a cup. 

Hinata turned to grab the iPod from its place on the speaker, choosing the next song to play. He put the phone back and turned the volume up a little more to play over the evening rush. The music started and he and Yuta moved in unison around their little stage, taking in the crowd. There were some regulars that Hinata recognized, the businesswoman who was perpetually tired but always stopped for their performances and a few kids who looked up at them in awe as their parents were trying to usher them away. There were always new faces too, of course people traveled across the country all the time or took new trains or moved cities, but there was something different about the boy with the bright red hair at the back of the crowd. His sky blue eyes pierced straight through to Hinata’s heart and made him stumble when their gaze connected with his own. 

“Hey, aniki focus! We’re almost done, don't fail on me now!” Yuta whispered, carefully shielding Hinata from the crowd as he regained his footing. Yuta was always so quick thinking. Hinata got back to his position and finished up the routine, eyes looking for that boy he had spotted earlier. He half hoped the boy would come talk to them afterwards while they were packing up for the evening, but when he finally saw that shock of red hair, it was moving away with the rest of the crowd. 

Hinata sighed, disappointed. Maybe that boy would come back someday. There was something about him that drew Hinata in. 

Someone bumped his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. “Hey, aniki, are you alright? You seem out of it today.” Yuta’s hand rested on his shoulder and Hinata couldn’t help but smile. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around, the older brother checking in on the younger one? 

“Hey hey everything’s fine Yuta-kun, don’t worry about me. I was just thinking about that delicious dinner you’re treating us too~” He playfully pushed back on Yuta, the red haired blue eyed boy all but forgotten now. 

“Hey! It’s technically our money so I’m not treating you to anything!” Yuta scowled but the smile in his voice was obvious to Hinata. 

“Hehe, then dinner’s on me! Say ‘thank you aniki!’” 

--- 

It was a week before Hinata saw the red headed boy in their audience again. He had all but slipped his mind, but those striking blue eyes were impossible to forget. Yuta was introducing their next performance which allowed Hinata to take a better look at the older boy who had made his way to the middle of the audience. He was tall and what Hinata could see of his outfit seemed ill-fitting at best, along with a headband holding his hair away from his eyes. 

Hinata scrambled to his position as the music queued up and let his instincts take over. Every so often he found himself glancing at the red haired boy, trying to see what he thought of their performance, but his face revealed nothing. 

Why was he so focused on this one boy? It’s not like they didn’t have strangers who watched them sometimes, and none of them had caught Hinata’s attention quite like this boy. He really couldn’t be much older than Hinata, maybe 17 at the oldest. Was he an older brother too? The boy’s eyes made contact with Hinata’s and it took everything in him to not look away. 

Once again however, Yuta snapped him out of whatever trance he had been in and everything was forgotten. 

“Are you really okay aniki? You’ve been out of it a lot recently…” Oh how it pained Hinata to see the concern on Yuta’s face. Nothing was even really wrong per se, but Hinata was distracted nonetheless. 

“I’m fine, Yuta-kun. Geez, can’t your older brother have some peace?” His mouth ran faster than his brain and he immediately regretted it. Yuta’s face flipped through several emotions; hurt, confusion, exhaustion. It wasn’t like him to hide things from his brother, so why was he doing it now? “Whatever, let’s get some dinner. My treat~” 

“It’s our money!” 

--- 

The boy continued to make appearances at the twins’ performances on the street, becoming something of a regular but disappearing before Hinata could flag him down. Hinata wasn’t even sure what compelled him to want to talk to the older boy, but he wanted to say something. He had even noticed that the boy seemed happier and his clothes fit a little better, not like they were just the first thing he grabbed out of a donation pile. 

Finally, after almost a month of trying to say something to the boy, Hinata saw him walk up to their hat on the ground and drop a few coins into it. 

“Thank you!” He said, walking up to the boy. “Hope you enjoyed the performance!” 

The boy froze as if he wasn’t expecting to be greeted like that. There was a slight flush to his face. “I-it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. You uh…you were great?” The boy seemed unsure of how to reply, though Hinata was happy with the compliment nonetheless. Maybe… 

“What brings you here? I mean--agh, sorry! I just mean…I noticed you don’t have a regular schedule?” The words were practically falling out of his mouth and Hinata wasn’t really sure what they were doing. “Like you show up a few days in a row but then go three weeks without stopping by at all!” He was just digging a bigger grave for himself! Great! 

“Ah uhm…I’m not from around here.” The boy scratched at the back of his neck. Maybe Hinata should back off. 

“O-oh, yeah of course. Duh. Are you visiting family or something?” 

“Not quite. I really should get going though. See you…later?” 

“Yeah, see you later.” 

“Hey Aniki, are you coming or not? The food’s gonna get cold!” 

“Coming!” 

---

It was almost a month before the boy appeared again. In the time between, Hinata had come up with a million different ideas for what his life was like. Was he a delinquent who skipped school to hang out on the street with gangs (how scary! But he looked strong enough to fit in)? Or was he a runaway from a city far away, somewhere Hinata only dreamed of visiting like Okinawa? Maybe he had a bad relationship with his dad and ran away, a thought that Hinata hated to admit had crossed his mind more than once. Or maybe he just passed through the city on the way to somewhere else. That seemed to be the most likely option, especially if he couldn’t come very often. 

When the boy did finally show up again, Hinata had to hold himself back from practically jumping him after the performance. Something looked…different about him though. His eyes seemed more tired? Like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Hinata thought of a fight he had with his dad a few weeks ago that made it hard for him to sleep and thought maybe this boy was the same as him in that regard. 

Hinata decided to wave him down after the performance, hat in hand (they had done pretty well! It felt heavier than normal and even without counting everything, they’d probably have enough for breakfast too). 

“Hey! You look tired, are you--did you want to get something to eat?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes--

The boy’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Did Hinata mess up? Oh he overstepped and now there really wasn’t any chance of getting to know him. Why was he so interested in talking to the boy anyway? Hinata had been asking himself that for a while now and he still had no answer. 

“I…I can’t. I need to go.” The boy turned and ran off before Hinata could ask more. He just kept messing up, didn’t he? Maybe he really was just a burden to Yuta and their dad and the restaurant owner. He shouldn’t have been born and Yuta would’ve been better off--

“Aniki! Sheesh, get your head out of the clouds. How much did we make?” Yuta grabbed the hat out of Hinata’s hand and quickly counted out the coins and bills. “Woah! We could eat a whole five course meal with this…” 

“Think with your head a little Yuta-kun. We’ve got breakfast paid for if we don’t blow it all tonight!” 

Yuta nodded before handing the hat back to Hinata. “So, my pick tonight?” 

--- 

Hinata signed the note, trying his best to keep the tears from dripping on it and smudging the ink. After his blunder with the red haired boy, he hadn’t shown up to their performances for over two months. Hinata was certain that he had messed up and was too forward. He didn’t even know the kid’s name! Why did he think the two of them could ever be friends? 

And on top of all of that, Yuta had become more and more distant from Hinata, as if Hinata just existing was dragging him back from his full potential. Yuta would have been better off as an only child and maybe Hinata deserved this life. Thirteen years living with their father, who had treated them as nothing but monsters, blaming them for their mother’s death and everything bad that had happened since, Hinata had resolved to run away. He’d make his way to the mountains and maybe he’d find someone willing to help him or maybe he’d slip into an endless sleep. 

Dear Yuta-kun, the letter had started. I’m sorry that I’m leaving like this, but I know that I’m just a burden to you. I’m sorry for that. I wish I had more to say but I just want you to be happy and maybe father will treat you better without me. I love you. 

The other letter, already folded and placed on the table, was much shorter, addressed to his father. 

Dear Father, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better son. Please don’t take this out on Yuta-kun, it was my decision. 

The less words he spent on that man, the better. Hinata folded Yuta’s note and placed it on top before quietly exiting through the front door. 

---

Everything was cold. Hinata slumped against a tree, head between his knees in a last ditch effort to keep warm. Sleep should come soon and he could painlessly move on, at least that’s what he hoped. He barely registered someone approaching him, but didn’t look up. 

“Hey.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but where did he remember it from? A warm hand shook at Hinata’s shoulder. 

“‘M fine.” The words were barely a whisper. The other voice grunted before walking away. It was another minute before Hinata felt something drape around his shoulders and a cup shoved in his hand. Whatever was in it was steaming, warming his fingers. 

“Drink.” The voice said. And he did, the tea was very, very bitter. That voice… 

Hinata looked up, meeting a pair of bright, sky blue eyes. That’s where he recognized the voice from. Did he…live? In the mountains? The boy seemed to recognize him too. He was wearing a headband and what looked like very warm clothes that Hinata wished he had. Hinata finished the tea, trying not to focus on the flavor. It helped at least, in warming him up a bit. 

“Why are you here?” The boy finally spoke again. It sounded like he was unsure if he should be mad or concerned, or both, but he offered Hinata another cup of tea, which he accepted if only to warm his fingers up. He pulled the blanket closer around his body. 

“I…ran away.” Hinata looked downward, as if admitting this out loud was a cardinal sin. The boy gestured for him to continue. “I guess I just…I was dragging my brother down. I’m not really talented at anything like he is and I’m the reason our dad sees us as monsters. He shouldn’t have to deal with a brother like me.” Hinata wasn’t really sure why he was spilling this so easily. The boy was a good listener though, hanging on every word Hinata spoke. Was he shaking? He’d never admitted this out loud before and it felt oddly freeing to say it to someone. 

He waited for a response, anything to chase away the uncomfortable silence Hinata had created with his confession. He really fucked up, didn’t he. He should have just kept that to himself like he always did instead of burdening a stranger like this! 

“I…” The boy started, barely audible above Hinata’s racing heartbeat. “I’m glad you’re alive.” He sounded unsure of his words. Was he just trying to be nice? Of course he was, how else do you respond to a kid telling you something like this? 

“You don’t have to pretend.” 

“I’m not. When I saw you singing and dancing…I think I realized something--” The boy cut himself off, the suddenness of it making Hinata look up. A moment later he heard his brother calling out from the woods behind him. 

“Aniki! There you are!” Yuta tackled him to the ground, squeezing Hinata like he might just blow away in the wind if they weren’t careful. “You scared me! I can’t believe you’d do something like that!” 

Tears pricked at Hinata’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, Yuta-kun. I’m really sorry.” He buried his face in Yuta’s jacket. His nose started to run, from the cold or the tears he couldn’t tell. 

“You aren’t a burden to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you around Aniki!” Yuta pulled back, hands gripping Hinata’s shoulders. “Promise you won’t do something that stupid again.” 

Hinata wiped the tears from his eyes, sparing a glance where the boy had been. It was as if he had never been there at all and Hinata had just hallucinated the whole interaction. He looked back at his twin brother. “I promise.” 

“Now let's get you home and warmed up. Where’d you get this blanket anyway? It doesn’t look like one of ours.” 

“I…” The boy had been real, and he told Hinata he was glad he was alive (even if his explanation was cut short by Hinata’s brother rushing in). “I guess I just found it. There must be people living nearby or something.” 

--- 

The chatter of the night club died down for the night as everyone was getting ready to go home. Hinata’s feet were sore from running around, but it was satisfying to be back in a restaurant like this. It reminded him of his childhood working for the Chinese restaurant with Yuta. 

Rinne, the leader of Crazy:B who had wanted to get closer to Hinata, and by extension 2wink, slid a drink down the bar. It looked like a horrible mix of syrups and club soda, but one sip was all it took for Hinata to drink it all down. 

“Great job tonight Hina! You’re a real natural at this stuff.” Rinne was washing the other glasses behind the bar now as Hinata finished the rest of his soda. 

“Yuta-kun and I used to work in a restaurant so it comes pretty naturally to us!” 

“That so?” 

“Mhm!” Hinata slid the empty glass back to Rinne, who quickly dumped the ice and washed it before tossing the towel over his shoulder. The entire week they’d been working the club together, there had been something bugging Hinata at the back of his mind. “Hey, Rinne-senpai…did you ever watch our shows?” 

“Huh? ‘Course I have, vice prez wants us to work together so I’ve seen a few of ‘em.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I mean like…back when Yuta-kun and I did street performances.” 

Rinne paused for a moment. “Why’re you askin’?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just reminded me of someone who used to watch them.” 

“Well I’m sure whoever it was is proud to see you singin’ and dancin’ on stage.” Rinne had come around the bar and stood next to Hinata, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get goin’ or I’m never gonna hear the end of it from Niki-kun.” 

[uniquezombiedestiny]

Why was I made this way?

full text (its bella monologue sunday!):

"I'm always here to help." That's what I always say! But sometimes, I have to wonder, well… why else am I here? Whenever I fall down or… or have one of those bad days, I just think, "Well, there's work tomorrow." Hm? Oh, it's not that bad. You get used to it. But anyways, sometimes it just makes me think - what am I? Outside of being your Captain-… I know my name. But what's my purpose? What's the meaning of all my time here? Because so many horrible things keep happening. So many- so many spikes, penetrating straight through my mind; so many things made to laugh and jeer at me; "You couldn't do it! You never could. Never." What else was I possibly made for other than to help you? I wasn't born the way a person was. I was built like a machine, all my life… So why.. Why do I feel anything? Why does everything just drag me down? Why can't I let go of everything I feel while everyone else diligently works? It's tiring. Really tiring. So why couldn't I have just been built out of metal and wires instead? Why couldn't they have just made me a machine? A perfect, unfeeling metal body. Noone could ever hurt me again. I'd never have to cry; to deliberate; to feel guilty about anything… Why? Why was I made this way? Why am I a human being at all in this place… if not to fail..?

[strxnged]

something something i'm not as interested in reading/writing x reader/r anymore something something

[asheanon]

Second WIP of this one, featuring a closeup. 💜

[catsafari25]

A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.

This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)

x

In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.

At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.

In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.

Natural.

The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.

It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.

It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.

Matoran couldn't say the same.

Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.

And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.

The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.

The room beyond is quiet.

Unmarked.

He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.

Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.

Something is wrong.

It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...

Only he came here for a reason.

The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?

He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.

Wrong.

This is wrong.

And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.

He moves into the next room.

It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.

It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.

Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.

The wrongness spikes.

Screams.

And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.

But from the temple.

It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.

It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.

In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.

Vakama recoils.

And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.

The wrongness sings.

But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.

There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.

Norik?

No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.

It won't matter, in the end.

The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.

The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.

It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.

But it does still hurt.

x

Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.

(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)

The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.

(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)

He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.

(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)

He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.

Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.

Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.

And it stops now.

Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.

Why won't he just shut up?

Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?

And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.

The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.

Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.

"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.

Well. Two can play at that game.

Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."

Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.

"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...

Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.

"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.

She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.

How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?

He never finds out.

He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.

What–

Norik.

He'd forgotten Norik.

He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.

He stills as he hears footsteps approach.

The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."

"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."

Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"

Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"

"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.

Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."

"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."

Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."

"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."

"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."

And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?

His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.

The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.

A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.

Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.

Then it begins to rumble.

It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.

The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.

The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.

And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.

Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.

Where's Norik?

Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.

Any.

Moment.

Now.

"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."

No.

No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?

Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.

"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."

Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.

"Stop that."

She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.

The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.

"Stop."

Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.

Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.

"I said, stop," he snarls.

She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.

His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.

He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not

The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.

Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.

But he was never meant to be one.

And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....

Well. That's somebody else's problem.

x

The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.

"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.

He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.

"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.

"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."

He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.

"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"

The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."

"Alive?"

Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.

No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.

[carcarrot]

i guess im being offered the job lol

[justplaggin]

opening tumblr like

[batfamhyperfixation]

I need more content of Tim's jealousy when other siblings come in and become close to Dick. Like every time someone says Damian is Dick's favorite it hurts my heart a little cause I know how Tim would feel.

It's one thing for a younger sibling to grow up with you, cause like at least then you all have your defined roles and it's like what you know so you aren't stepping on one another's toes, but like it's something completely else to have a sibling who is already grown up come into the family and become siblings with your sibling.

It is just like that longing feeling when you see them together and like they haven't known each other as long yet they seem closer to your sibling than you are, and everyone knows they are the favorite and you are just like how do they get along so well with so little effort.

I need more Tim and Dick content like this. The boy went from being Dick's only sibling still around (aka no competition for being brothers and nothing to compare it to) to being like 1 of 5 of dick's siblings, and I know this also goes in reverse where the newer sibling is jealous of the older two siblings for already having the established bond, but I dont see enough of Tim having bitter envy of how close Damian and Dick are despite not knowing each other as long, like you want angsty relationships DC, show me this instead of just everyone trying to kill Tim, show me silent envy that grows more and more as it slowly decays a sibling relationship instead of like a weird ritual where if you wanna be apart of the family you have to attempt to kill tim

[crybaby-bkg]

I’m so sad I was so sure I was gonna get all As this semester but it’s looking like I’ll still end up with one B 😭😭😭😭😭

[kannedia]

FF14 Vanilla GPose challenge day seven-

Companion: Iskra and Anima go for a walk in the Lavender Beds.

[fiepige]

Summary:

“HOLY SH-” Miles and Gwen simultaneously turned to cover Pav’s mouth so as to not alert the creature in the middle of the carnage below them. The creature either didn’t hear him or it was too preoccupied with whatever it was doing. To his regret Miles soon realized what that was, as another wet snapping noise broke the silence once more. The creature was crouched down on all fours over what Miles assumed was the body of an officer, though it was so mutilated that it was hard to tell for sure. Its head was buried into the chest of the body beneath it, another wet snapping noise emerging as it pulled out a couple of ribs between its bloodied jaws... Or The Spider-Gang goes looking for Hobie. They don’t like what they find.

Hey guys, remember how I mentioned that I was working on a Venom!Hobie fic a while ago? Well the draft is done and so is the first chapter!