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snaileer · 11 months

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Everyone Loves a 2-for-1 Sale Part 3

Part 1 & 2 (And original Prompt)

The dining room was suspiciously quiet for a Wayne breakfast when Danny walked in.

He glanced up from his phone, pulling one earbud out, “Oh feel free to continue arguing my morality like I’m an object, my music’s on full volume.”

Dick looked uncomfortable, “We weren’t-Look, Ti- Danny, we are just a bit curious as to why you’re…. here,” Dick finished, glancing at the others like asking if they’d share the plate of batguilt-fries with him.

“Surely the world could have done without a second Drake,” Damian cut in before Danny could even start.

“And we could have done without even one of you, yet here you are,” Danny glared, “Factory defects and all.”

Damian jerked upwards with a raised knife, narrowly pushed back down by Dick.

Danny rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his phone-Tim’s phone-their phone. He held a folded paper out to Bruce with two fingers, still typing, “I have a list, if you want it.”

He continued typing as they opening the note and read it, he knew what it said.

To Do in Gotham:

1. Get to Gotham

2. Find original - don’t freak family out

3. -Find- Talk to Bruce

4. Convince Vicki Vale that Tim is/ actually engaged to Tam Fox

5. Get safe house

6. New identity? (what do clones do? - ask Connor)

9. Leave?

“What’s number seven and eight?” Dick asked, and Danny actively made sure his typing pattern didn’t change.

“Don’t know yet,” He answered with a shrug, the picture of nonchalance. Bruce probably didn’t believe him.

Didn’t matter. Dick did. Because Dick felt guilty.

Bat guilty.

About time he believed him about something.

And Danny didn’t care about Damian’s opinions one way or another.

He stepped away from the table, plopping another grape in his mouth as he walked past, “Welp that’s it for me, busy day, fake engagement, gotta find some crutches because I don’t think Vicki will accept my ‘you got new legs Lieutenant Dan-ny’ joke, all that,”

Danny slipped out the door past a sleep-deprived Tim with a jaunty salute, “All’s well in Clone Town!”

Danny kept walking, his brain running miles ahead of him, Ted Tobin steering the wheel with his fingers on the keypad of his phone as he moved forward and mentally filled in the list.

Number 7: Find Ra’s Al Ghul and the Lazarus pits.

Number 8: Stabilize yourself.

Danny continued up the stairs. He had people to see and rings to buy. Busy is the life of a saboteur.

—

Red Robin watched his clone linger in the jeweler’s store, trying to keep the frown from taking over his whole face.

He was making Tim’s life difficult. Tim suspected it was on purpose.

Largely because people would ask way too many questions if two Tim Drakes showed up in Gotham at the same time.

Hence, Red Robin being relegated to rooftop surveillance.

He turned his attention back to the clone, watching as he left the shop and turned down the street. Red Robin swept after him, following from above.

The clone remained focused on his phone- which was also Tim’s by the way, and stolen- as he walked down the street, turning into an alley without even looking up.

Tim tilted his head and swung to the rooftop, peering into the darkness.

“You could always just come down and actually talk to me, you know?”

Tim dropped into the alley, unsurprised to come face to face with the clone. It was weird to see his own face look so annoyed by him.

“Thought it was best to stay out of sight. We’re not exactly a daylight hero.”

Danny rolled his eyes, “Already annoyed with Vicki Vale?”

Tim nearly growled, “That is your fault,”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me it’s not hilarious.”

“You’ve spent all morning in ring shops! I have meetings!”

“Lucius can handle them. It’s not like we actually did anything this last year anyways.”

Tim stared at him for a second, confusion in the squint of his eyes and laced with suspicion.

Danny groaned with a roll of his eyes, “Fine, you want me to stay put somewhere so you can do your civilian thing?”

“Yes.”

“I am not staying in the manor. You can’t make me.”

Dread filled him as Tim smiled, “Not a problem.”

Danny glared at Tim standing arms wide in the center of the room of his emptiest safe house, “This is so not what I meant and you know it.”

Tim’s face betrayed nothing, “Look, none of us are happy with this situation-“

Danny scoffed. Understatement of the century.

“But..” Tim continued with a pointed look, “It’s my fault, and I get that. So…compromise? You stay here, work on cold cases while I sort out my current job, and when I’m done, we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

Danny sighed, feeling Ted Tobin stir to life with plans already forming.

“Fine.”

Tim nodded succinctly, reaching for a laptop and multiple cords, “Ok, here’s my old computer, -huh, I could have sworn that had a different charger- anyways- I’ll take this,” he plucks the phone from Danny’s hands in one smooth motion, giving a mocking smile in return to Danny’s glare, “Thank you very much, now I just have to-and find the guy who…”

Tim’s voice tapers off into mumbles as he heads into the bedroom to peel off his suit, fingers focused on the keypad of his newly reacquired phone.

Danny slumps himself down on the secondhand couch, dust echoing around him. This was fine, he could do stuff in the meanwhile, maybe help Tim with his case -or solve it himself, he bets he could- and then finish the new specs for the suit wings that Danny’s suit still didn’t have.

Tim fumbled through the doorway, now in civilian clothes, already on a call with Lucius probably, or Tam. Tam helped him a lot.

Danny slouched further into the silence.

It felt like being left behind by his parents.

They had bigger priorities.

Archaeology.

Ghosts.

Danny shook his head, opening the computer and letting Ted Tobin fish through the passwords for case files.

He’s nearly 3 hours deep when he really pauses for the first time, finally stopping the continuous notes sitting next him, each a different clue. Most for different cases.

The current case pulled up on his screen scratches at him, facts slotting into place with rapid fire precision.

The officer assigned to the case is a vet.

The case is perpetrated by a senatorial candidate.

The officer assigned served on three active fronts and 2 undisclosed.

The guilty candidate is running support for a bill cutting veteran supports.

Best of all?

It’s not in Gotham.

Danny smiles as Ted Tobin’s plan fills in, piece by piece.

—

Ra’s Al Ghul should really make it harder to hack into his confidential back market mercenary dealings.

Then again, maybe it was for the better. How else would he make sure Red Robin was able to intercept the assassin in time to save that poor officer’s life the night before his case-closing arrest?

—

“Detective, I assumed holding my business outside of Gotham would keep it from being the concern of you and yours,” Ra’s’ voice is muffled through the bag over his head, “It seems I was wrong.”

“Oh well, you know me…,” The bag is ripped roughly off his head, leaving him blinking rapidly against the light even as he smirks, “Always butting into things when I shouldn’t. It’s kind of what we do.”

“Tell me, Timothy,” Ra’s says, turning his back to him once more, as he waves his ninjas away, “What does this officer matter to you, more than a state away from your usual stomping grounds? What-“ Ra’s pauses as a different ninja approaches him to whisper in his ear. His body stills.

“Well, we’ll start there. First of all, as I’m sure you just found out, I’m not Timothy,” Danny says, standing up smoothly. He relishes the look Ra’s gives him as he turns around. “And secondly, the officer wasn’t what mattered. Getting you here on the other hand. Now that.. that takes a little more planning.” Danny brushes himself off, removing the cowl to leave just his own domino behind.

Ra’s al Ghul hums, his eyebrow twitching up even as his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“What? No sudden desire to stab? No impromptu attempt to put a sword through my chest?”

“You are curious. So much like the detective, and yet… my people tell me he is currently patrolling in Gotham with the Grayson boy.”

Danny scoffs, “Oh great, another fruit loop interested in me, like I need a new one of those.”

Ra’s’ stare doesn’t change. Albeit a bit more annoyed, but still flat and calm.

“You wanna know what makes me different from Timothy, Ra’s?” Danny pauses, taking a deep breath and letting the ectoplasm ripple inside him for the first time in months. “The difference between me and him,” When he looks up he knows his eyes glow fluorescent green, “Is that I’m stronger.”

—

Bonus Scene:

Dick stared at Tim’s clone as he left, sweeping past the original’s bleary form stumbling to the coffee machine.

“Are we sure he’s Drake’s clone? He seems… less of a fool,” Damian sneered, watching Tim stand listlessly in front of the cabinet, coffeemaker off, and tablet in hand.

He looked out of the Dining room doors, spotting Danny standing not far away in front of one of the closets by the stairs rather than the actual steps, fingers tapping away.

Damian turned back to his breakfast, “I retract my statement. Clearly his stupidity was simply blinding.”

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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 7 months

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Prompt List

Hey! I am so sorry for not uploading for like five months! I really want to start uploading again but I think doing so many Taylor Swift inspired prompts burnt me out - if you sent a request or do send one I will get to it just give me time.

Here is a prompt list I'll be using from now on, like always if you have your own idea(s), send them in!

These's prompts include: "dialogue", 'anything in quotations is what the whole fic will be based around', 5 times plus 1, AU's and more!

Send in just one or merge some ideas together!

Click here to add yourself to my tag list! 🤍

_______________________________________________

1 - “You’re in love with her, you know that right?”

2 - “I didn’t know where else to go.”

3 - “I’m replaceable, you’re not.”

4 - “You kept it?”

5 - Leaning their head on their shoulder

6 - “Because that’s what you and I do, we protect each other.”

7 - “I swear on us.” “Why us?” “Because there is nothing I have ever believed in more.”

8 - Person A getting hurt protect Person B

9 - “Hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

10 - “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

11 - “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

12 - 5 times Person A and B correct people about their relationship status and the 1 time they just accept it

13 - Everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. The world goes back to black and white when they die.

14 - “For what it’s worth, I never gave up on you.”

15 - Accidental love confession

16 - “You’re staring at him/her again.”

17 - “Give me one good reason why I should trust you?” “Because no matter how much you hate me, you know I have never lied to you.”

18 - “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

19 - “If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you.”

20 - “You had your chance with her. You had your chance and you blew it, and this is my chance and I am not going to blow it because we are made for each other.”

21 - ‘I still hope there is more to our story. Maybe we just had to fall apart to find each other again one day.’

22 - “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you and you weren’t there!”

23 - “It’s my job to keep you safe, yes, but you could work with me a little to make it easier.”

24 - “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you and you haven’t stopped thinking about me.”

25 - ‘I am usually an optimist but I have never hoped for a sad ending like I do for you and her.’

26 - “I can’t say if the day I met you was the best or worst day of my life.”

27 - “Don’t look at me like that.”

28 - ‘Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.’

29 - “She’s my best friend, that’s never changed.” “Yeah, the only thing that changed was your feelings for her.”

30 - “How many fingers am I holding up?”

31 - “You’d die for her?”

32 - ‘He had that awkward tenderness of someone who had never been in love and was forced to improvise.’

33 - “I did it for you, you idiot.”

34 - “If I never see you again just know that I love you so, so much.”

35 - ‘He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else.’

36 - “I thought you were dead!”

37 - Squeezing their hand reassuringly

38 - “Whatever you do, do not make a sound.”

39 - “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

40 - “I can’t do this without you. I won’t do this without you.”

41 - “See? I told ya they’d get together.”

42 - ‘There is some good left in this world and it is worth fighting for.’

43 - Born with your soulmates first name tattooed on your body

44 - ‘There are some people that you meet and you just know from the get go that they are important, that you have to do anything to keep them in your life. He was that person.’

45 - “You came to me, begging me for help!”

46 - “Tell me about your life before all of this.”

47 - ‘S/he would always be my biggest what if.’

48 - “It turns out I’m absolutely terrible at staying away from you.”

49 - One being forced to hurt the other but refusing, getting themselves hurt instead

50 - “Why is it always the people you can’t trust saying “trust me”?”

51 - ‘If you were going to die, I was going to die with you.’

52 - “You can’t sleep yet kid, I need you to stay awake.”

53 - ‘We met at the wrong time. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. Maybe one day, years from now, we’ll meet in a coffee shop, in a faraway city somewhere and we could give it another shot.’

54 - Five times they wanted to say ‘I love you’ and the 1 time they finally did

55 - “I always thought you were the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

56 - “I’ve never had a family before.”

57 - “I’m not leaving without her.”

58 - ‘Sometimes we do everything right and it’s still not enough.'

59 - “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

60 - ‘We’re in love, we just want to be together. What’s wrong with that?’

61 - “Take me instead. Leave her/him and take me.”

62 - Sitting together on a rooftop

63 - “I think…I’m in love with (Name.)” “Congrats on being the last one to find out.”

64 - Needing somebody else to point out the fact you have feelings for character

65 - “I know we’re not…friends or anything, but…I’m here for you, if you need someone to talk to.”

66 - Drunken kiss

67 - “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

68 - ‘Home is not where you are from. It’s where you belong. Some of us travel the whole world to find it. Others find it in a person.’

69 - “If I had it my way, we’d never leave this bed.”

70 - ‘Everything that needs saying, truly saying, begins with a lump in the throat.’

71 - When mysterious injuries appear on your body, it’s because your soulmate got them.

72 - ‘For old times sake.’

73 - “I’m never gonna be good enough for you, am I?”

74 - “Don’t hurt him! Just stop hurting him, please!”

75 - ‘Sometimes there are no words that can help. Sometimes you just need to sit together in silence and try to come to terms with how the world works.’

76 - “When I let a day go by without talking to you, that’s just not a good day.”

77 – “Do you have a plan?” “I have a gun.”

78 - “How long did you think you could hide that?”

79 - “Leave with me.”

80 - ‘She was good and he needed a little good in his life because without it there was an awful lot of darkness.’

81 - 5 places Person A and B have kissed plus the 1 place where they did more than that

82 - “Honestly I wasn’t listening but I always disagree with whatever you say.”

83 - “There’s no way I’m sharing a bed with you.” “You’re more than welcome to sleep on the floor.”

84 - Person B is frowning all the time but Person A can always see when they are happy (Grumpy x Sunshine)

85 - ‘I want you to always remember me. Will you remember that I existed and that I stood next to you here like this?”

86 - “I’ll do it, but only because you asked me to.”

87 - 5 times Person A treated Person B’s injuries, plus 1 time Person B treated Person A’s injury.

88 - ‘Maybe one day we’ll meet again and I’ll be right for you and you’ll be right for me.’

89 - "Dying in the middle of nowhere doesn't seem so bad if you're here."

90 - “Oh no, you’re a morning person.”

91 - “I hate you.” “I love you too.”

92 - “No, don't stop, keep talking. I like hearing you talk.”

93 - “Are you cold?”

94 - “What do you want from me?”

95 - “Look, I know you hate me but I don’t know what to do and I really need some help.”

96 - “I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”

97 - “I wish things had been different.”

98 - “I can’t leave you alone for a second without you getting into trouble, can I?”

99 - “You’re not sleeping?” “Nope.” “Why not?” “Don’t want you to stab me the second I close my eyes.” “I won’t.”

100 - “This isn’t just an (object), it’s a promise.”

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ickyarson777 · 3 months

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Many Eyed Vessel Fic Thing??? Chapter Two

If y'all have any suggestions on a name for this series, let me know and I'll do a poll if I get enough suggestions!!

Chapter 1, 2

That being said, here's chapter two. I don't know quite what I think about this one.

Word count: 2,889

Content warnings: maybe a little dread? it's not particularly scary tho

After my experience in the forest that day, I decided to return to the small, single motel in the tiny town where I was renting a room. I decided to lie down and take a nap. It was about 2 in the afternoon when I had fallen asleep, and I woke to see darkness crawling in through the window, glancing over at the clock on the nightstand, I saw that it was 9 o’clock and sighed heavily.

’Managed to sleep through the whole day,’ I think to myself.

I slide out of bed and pull on some clothes. My stomach is growling and I decide that I should go and try to find some food. Surely, there’s a restaurant or two that’s still open. I pull on my shoes, grab my bag, and walk out of the motel, walking down the street towards the restaurants. I knew walking alone at night was dangerous, but I prided myself on the knowledge of how feral I’d act if anyone approached me, knowing they’d be twice as quick to get away from me.

I hummed to myself as I walked down the street and glanced sideways as I passed an alleyway. Just in the corner of my eye, I see him, the man from the woods. A blur, almost entirely hidden in shadows save for the bright white and red of his mask. I do a double take and whip my head back around, he’s not there. I pause for a moment, listening. Surely, if he was there I’d still hear distant shuffling in the alleyway. I don’t. Instead, part of me believes I hear a voice. I can’t hear the words, I can’t tell if it’s speaking or singing, but it sounds like the man. Or does it?

I hesitate, glancing back down the street and taking a deep breath before stepping into the alleyway, choosing to follow after the man, to see if I can get some answers.

I take quick steps, rounding the corner and catching a small glimpse of him again, turning around the corner of a building, his cloak billowing after him, tracing his movements. I followed silently, not paying attention to the fact that we were slowly walking back towards the forest.

I don’t realize this until I’m on the edge of the concrete, the roots of trees digging into the rough stone. I see him, in the distance. But he looks.. odd. He stands there, but it's like his appearance is flickering. I decide it must be the darkness playing tricks on my eyes, and take a step forward.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says a voice somewhere to my left.

I gasped and turned, searching for the one who spoke. Luckily, this guy stuck out like a sore thumb. Tall and thin, shoulder-length hair, colored bright red. He wore a long-sleeved shirt that was covered in colorful designs and a long black hooded vest over it. His pants were black but only stretched down to the middle of his shins, where long checkered socks met the edge of his pants. He wore a mask as well, gold, save for the area around his mouth, which was black and gave the impression that his lips had been crudely sewn together, but not shut in a creepy open-mouthed smile. In clean white lines, the same sigil that the other man had on his mask was painted across his face. I could see his eyes, shining greenish blue in the darkness.

“That’s not who you think it might be, love.” He spoke with a thick Cockney accent. “That’s another one of our monsters, trying to kill you.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed, and glance back at the first man, seeing that the form was flickering and changing much more now. I could see more clearly that it was indeed, something else entirely. I could see the figure, now hovering slightly above the ground, much taller than it should’ve been. Its legs were heavily muscled and ended in hooves rather than human feet, ankles wrapped in bandages, and upper legs armored. Its rib cage was empty, dark viscera coated its completely exposed bones, and thin leathery skin poked out of the tarnished metal breastplate it wore, extending to the tips of its long withered fingers. Tusks extended from underneath the things mask, which was blank except for six dots, arranged in two columns of three as if they were eyes, a feather plume extended from the top of its helmet, curling around its head, and the two horns on its head. One hand held its weapon steady as it sat across the monster's shoulders, a huge war hammer, one end flat, the other a dull pointed tip, both splattered with the reddish brown of dried blood.

“An apparition,” the man said to me, now standing closer.

I took a step back, I hadn’t heard him move closer. ”Who are you?” I demand. “What the fuck is going on?”

Beneath the mask, the man chuckles, his shoulders shaking. He turns towards the monster, “Leave us alone you big lug, go find your food somewhere else.”

Slowly, the monster turned and disappeared, the image melting into the trees.

I turn back to the odd man, still waiting for answers. I look at him expectantly.

“Oh, you were serious?” He asks, almost sounding amused. “Look mate, this is something that doesn’t concern you. Vessel told us you’d be back, and sent me out here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed or worse. I’m sure I'm not even supposed to be telling you most of this, but you seem like the type to ignore anything if you’ve set your mind to do the opposite of it. Trust me when I tell you, you need to turn around now, go back to the town, go beddy-bye, and pretend all of this was just a really weird fever dream.”

I try to process his words quickly. “Vessel?” I decided to question him here first. “What vessel?”

“Not what, but whom. The guy you met when ol’ clunky was chasing you earlier. His name is ‘Vessel.’”

I think for a moment, then I turn and begin walking into the woods.

“What are you doing?” The tall man says almost worriedly. “I told you to go the other way.”

“And clearly you’re not going to stop me,” I say as I hear him begin to follow me. “I want answers, and if that means finding your ‘Vessel,’ then so be it.”

The man laughs softly. “Love, if you think you’re gonna get an answer better from one of the others, you’re sorely mistaken. II and IV, they listen to the rules. Vessel’s even more vague than them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, pausing for a moment and glancing around the woods. “Are we headed in the right direction?”

The man sighs. “I’ll never understand why we’re not allowed to touch you humans. How am I supposed to stop you from finding the house if I can’t grab you and toss you back to where you’ve come from?”

I stare at him. “What are you?”

His eyes glint in the darkness. “Do you really want to know?”

I nod my head, now feeling slightly nervous.

“What’s your name?” He asks slowly.

I tense now feeling slightly apprehensive. An odd masked man in the forest asking for my name? If I was stupid, I might’ve given it to him. “None of your business.”

I can see the sly smile in his eyes as I speak.

“Smart one, aren’t you..”

I continue walking. “What’s your name?” I ask him.

“III,” he says simply. “And yours?” He tries again.

I shake my head. “Ulfric Stormcloak.”

At this, the man, III, laughs. “Nice to meet you then, Ulfric. Planning on giving me your real name anytime soon?”

“Of course not,” I say with a small smile. “I won’t be giving you anything of mine.”

“You are a smart one,” he says. “Not smart enough to realize we’ve been walking in the wrong direction this whole time though.”

I scoff, turning to him. “Which way then? And where are we even going?”

“No idea, love,” III says laughing. “You set off on some determined journey.”

“Just going the way I went earlier,” I mutter as III turns and walks in a separate direction. I follow him quietly.

“That’d be why you ran into the one you did then..” III says, surveying the woods.

I stay silent for a moment, thinking of the two monsters I’ve met so far. “What… what are they?”

III turns his gaze to me. “Hmm? Oh, Clunky and uh…” He trailed off. “Shit, I only know their other names,” he mutters to himself. He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “They’re… uh,” he pauses. “Actually, love, this one might not be for me to tell you about.”

I sigh, “Great, and you’re telling me you’re the only one who’s gonna give me straight answers, and now you won't give them to me?”

He barks out a laugh. “Not necessarily. Those things, I don’t know how to explain that one to you without making you turn tail and run. And at this point, I’m not sure Vessel will let you do that.”

His words send a shiver down my spine.

“Meaning?”

He glances at me, eyes almost seeming preoccupied, “Meaning, you’ve seen far too much of this and lived. Vessel’s under direct orders to not let anyone who’s seen as much as you have just… go.”

We fell into silence then. I open my mouth and close it, trying to find the words to speak, and failing. “Am I… going to be killed?”

I half expect him to laugh, tell me ‘of course not,’ but he doesn’t. Instead, he shoots sideways glances at me.

“What do you think?” He asks, but it seems more like he’s asking someone else, someone unseen. He thinks for a moment, before speaking again. “I don’t think so. But it's not really up to us, is it?” He puts his head down and his shoulders droop slightly.

we fall into silence again. A few minutes later, as we walk through the brush, a faint warm glow begins radiating from the trees ahead of us.

“Ahh, home sweet home,” III says loudly, making me jump.

As we get closer to the glow, the building comes into view and my eyes widen in surprise. Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t a mansion.

It was such an odd sight, too. A lovely, perfectly preserved Victorian-style mansion, gas lamp posts lined the courtyard and led up to the large porch. The whole building was three stories high, and I assumed there was an attic and basement as well. Vines grew up and down the building, and if not for the warm light coming from the windows, I would’ve assumed the building to have been abandoned, even if it was pristine underneath the foliage.

III walked up to the door, and opened it, ushering me in with an exaggerated bow. “Welcome to our home.”

I step inside. The foyer was lit by candlelight and a beautiful rug ran down the hall, which branched off to three different rooms. Directly ahead I could see bits and pieces of a kitchen. III began walking down the hall and took a left. I follow him quietly. I glance through the door at the right, the dining room. A long mahogany table complete with a crimson table runner and intricate golden candlesticks. The room was empty.

I stepped through the doorway of the room to the left, which ended up being a living room of sorts. A sofa, a loveseat, and a couple of plush armchairs surrounded the coffee table in the center of the room. On the wall in front of it, a fireplace, with burning tinder. I was surprised to see a TV mounted on the wall above it, the modern tech looked very odd in a place like this. The right wall was filled to the brim with bookshelves, each one crammed tight with hundreds of books, some very old, some new. There was a dark staircase on the wall by the door, leading both upstairs and downstairs into a basement.

III threw himself on the couch and gestured for me to take a seat. “II and IV will be down soon,” he tells me. “Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

I take a seat in one of the armchairs and fold my hands into my lap. ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ I think to myself quietly.

A few moments later, two men enter the room, and I suddenly feel more afraid than before. Neither of them was as tall as III, but they also wore masks. One of them, the taller of the two, had a mask like III’s, except the colors were switched. The other, his mask was a dark charcoal gray, an angry expression molded into the face, though the same sigil passed over the forehead, eyes, and eyebrows. Unlike the other two, the mouth of this one wasn’t sewn together, but twisted and nonexistent.

They glance at me and take seats around the room. The one with the different mask nods at me, muttering a muffled ‘hello.’ I’m too nervous to return it.

“Don’t worry love, II won't hurt you,” says III. “Bloke just looks a bit spooky’s all”

Vessel told you not to return.

I jump at the voice I hear in my mind.

“Forgive IV,” says the one with the different mask. “If he speaks out loud, none of us would ever hear again.”

I glance at IV, his eyes are narrowed, staring at me with an angry gaze.

Silence falls over the room as I try to decide how to respond. I see a smile grow in III’s eyes.

“Having trouble collecting your thoughts?” He says, smugly.

I’m beginning to feel slightly faint. A forest full of monsters, four masked men, none of which seem to be entirely human. They can all definitely hear my thoughts and each other. I’m quite far away from my home, and my friends and family don’t even know where I am. III has already given me the hint of an idea that they might kill me.

My thoughts are running rampant now. The men in the room tensed, almost as if sensing my fear. The fourth stares at me, gaze softened slightly.

We don’t want to hurt you. His voice echoes in my mind. But we might not have a choice.

II shakes his head, “We don’t even think it’ll end up coming to that,” he says quietly. “Vessel is speaking with Sleep now, trying to figure out what we’re to do with you.”

My mind is reeling, and I suddenly have a strong urge to cry. I feel the tears gather in my eyes for a moment, desperately trying to blink them away.

I see II glance over to the staircase and I follow his gaze. The man I’d first met, the one called Vessel, was walking up the steps from the basement. I’d felt his presence before I could see him and felt a shiver run down my spine. There was a certain air of authority and heaviness that followed him.

“Hey, Ves!” said III enthusiastically.

As he reached the top of the stairs, Vessel looked around the room at our little group. I couldn't see his eyes through the mask, but I could tell when they fell on me, the way he lingered for a moment and his jaw clenched slightly.

Was he angry? With me?

“Of course not,” his voice was just as beautiful as I remember.

My eyes widen slightly as I realize he’s speaking to me, hearing the fears in my thoughts and reassuring me.

I open my mouth to speak and then close it again.

“I’d like to have a word with you, alone,” he says quietly.

Wordlessly, the other three stand and file out of the room, IV leaving last and closing the door behind him quietly.

Vessel takes a seat in the armchair across from me, studying me through his mask. His body paint is a lot more streaked and faint now, I can see a lot of his natural skin underneath.

“You’re an odd one, huh? Meet a monster in a forest and a strange man who tells you not to come back,” he tells me, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Anyone else would listen indefinitely.”

“I want to understand what's happening here,” I say. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s ever done this.”

Vessel doesn’t speak immediately but nods in agreement. “No, definitely not the only one. But there’s a reason more people don’t know about this. The ones who see what you did and listen, only have their words to tell people. The ones who come back-”

Somewhere in the distant wood outside of the house, a horrible gut-wrenching howl sounded. It brought up every horrible memory, every time I’d felt pain. I take a shaky breath, a tear tracing its way down my face.

Vessel regards me for a moment before finishing his statement. “Those who return, are either killed or consumed by Sleep.”

Thanks for reading !! Should I cross-post to Ao3 as well?

@dravenskye @stuffedzitifrita

#sleep token #sleep token vessel #vessel #sleep token iii #iii #sleep token ii #ii #sleep token iv #iv #the apparition

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sir-yeehaw-paws · 1 year

Text

No, but it does give you back some control, Kaz. Which honestly is an understandable feeling to want to have. But thinking about it, what’s gotta be worse than being both grounded-and in excruciating pain with much less function than he had previously?

Loss of control.

Even if I go with my headcanon of the capture being an organized thing between himself and Ocelot-that doesn’t mitigate it being traumatic or bad.

(Which obviously, is just a headcanon/theory: nothing I say in any of these posts is 100% proven canonically, this is just my own thoughts after all from context we receive within the game).

Anyway.

Taking aside the other factors (artificial limbs aren’t a guarantee that it makes things better, or easier. Extra weight, difficulties etc) thinking of the kind of personality Kaz has; that of a high-strung man eager to find his place and exert power over others (and if not power, then something akin to it, or mingled with other elements) a core element in that is control.

Being the one in charge. Someone who has enough of a position of authority to exert his will unto others. Whether that word comes from himself or Snake, he’s at the helm somehow.

After Kaz is rescued, he’s open about exactly how he’s feeling-

And honestly, a single look at himself, or even just how much pain he has got to be in on a day-to-day basis would tell him that he really doesn’t need to focus on that in order to remember. Frankly, I think he’d have a much harder time forgetting. After all, it’s been 9 years since the attack, and he’s still fueled so strongly by hate and revenge that it’s on his mind 24/7. Nothing else occurs to him, ever.

Angry enough that even after weeks in captivity, he’s fuming and chomping at the bit to get going again.

Sir the only thing you should be right now is unconscious.

But there is really only so much vulnerability a single person can take. Let alone someone like him.

Kicks help away.

If he’s in pain, it’s more than just a reminder. It serves as the one thing he has left to master. To be in charge of. Pain meds wouldn’t take all of it away. But it would ease it. Bionics wouldn’t take all of it away, but it might (or might not) help him. If he says ‘no’ to all of this, then he’s the one with the final say. Logically, it doesn’t make the most sense. After all, you can’t think or function properly in pain the way you could out of it.

Believe me I know.

I rely on aids myself, from time to time. I was a daily cane user for most of university.

A wheelchair for another trip.

And there’s absolutely an argument to be made, that if he did take assistance. Help. That if he did get himself in less pain then he’d actually be exerting more control in the situation because now he’s the one that’s got a handle on it. He’s the one that took it back and brought it back to himself. Into a place where it no longer dominates him, but he dominates it.

But the longer he’s in pain, the angrier he can stay. Not to mention it provides an excuse for the anger. Now he’s not just in control of himself (so he thinks anyway, I’d argue the point with him myself if he was a living thing I could speak too) but kept mad and spitting. Mad enough to kill Skull Face, mad enough to keep going and going. Fueling his fire with self grown coals.

Because without that pain, that anger. Also comes loss.

Grief is one of the central themes to MGSV (a whole other post to be honest). Grief and anger often times go hand and hand. Kaz isn’t a good person with good morals at the end of the day. A man who was so eternally displaced with his position in the world from the day of his birth, and really until his death that his solution was things like nation states and war economies. But you don’t have to be a good person, or a saint, to have been wronged in some fashion.

He's never been shy about admitting exactly what kind of person he is (in this regard, anyway)

And is there not, end of day, a large element of control rooted in things like this?

These are the sorts of ideologies Kaz holds: in his own words.

Like this:

Or this.

His lead, and Kaz's. (Since it's Kaz talking here that is not what is outright stated, but it's clear enough what Kaz might want, within these situations).

(One could also argue this is just morally corrupt people taking care of other morally corrupt people but that’d be a derailment. Another post would have to delve into that as well).

When he lost everything-his home, his limbs, he lost key elements of his control that he worked so brutally to build. Whatever scrap of it he can cling to and maintain, he will.

Obviously, Kaz is in a different place (and undoubtedly frame of mind by the 90’s) but in the 80’s, he’s holding strong to pain, grief, anger, and loss. Because if he lets go of the things that keep him fueled and furious, then all that’s left is all-encompassing grief.

And that must feel a whole lot harder to deal with to him (I’d think anyway) than being raging and fuming.

#mgsv #kazuhira miller #nates headcanons #thoughts posts #character posts: kazuhira miller #yes im extending my tags kakjsdnjksa shhh #mgs #like i mean obviously take everything i say with a grain of salt this is just my own thoughts #i just enjoy thinking #perhaps far too much #revolver ocelot #diamond dogs #venom snake

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hermannsthumb · 2 months

Note

9 / 13 / 27 for the prompt fills? 😮

9. Stargazing + 13. Family Reunion + 27. Power Outage

from summer prompts meme here

looking back at some old unfilled askbox prompts and went and took some generous liberties with this one......

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

It’s been kind of weird not having shit to do. That’s not technically true, because Newt and Hermann have plenty of shit they could do, but none of it is particularly time-sensitive or, like, interesting—a lot of paperwork, sleepovers at Shatterdome medical to get prodded and poked at, and mandatory meetings with PPDC higher-ups. No glamorous magazine spreads just yet. Newt’s holding out hope for those, though. Specifically they haven’t had shit to do in the lab, other than packing up their (newly defunct?) research in moving boxes, final destination still currently TBD. No magazine spreads, but plenty of universities begging and outright bribing them to set up shop on their campuses. Newt’s still not totally sold on returning to academia yet, but he's been enjoying feeling like homecoming king.

Basically they can afford to take a few days off. To Newt’s surprise it was Hermann who brought up the topic of vacation in the first place (would you be inclined to join me in Germany for a week?), and though it’s unfortunately not the luxury spa resort he had in mind (and that he would’ve found an excuse to charge all the expenses of to his PPDC-issued travel card), Newt’s game. He's game for anything that gets Hermann to unwind a little. He was less game when Hermann revealed the reason—a reunion dinner with his family (three terrifying siblings and two terrifying parents) at Hermann’s childhood home in the countryside, something which Newt can’t imagine going well for anyone involved.

Still, it’ll be fun to see where Hermann grew up, and they’ll have a whole bonus six days over there to do anything else they want. Hermann also seemed mildly terrified at the thought of going alone, and Newt definitely owes him one after the whole drifting with a kaiju thing. Possibly those aren’t comparable sacrifices. Newt’s basically a saint here.

They rent a car to drive from their hotel to Hermann’s house themselves instead of calling a cab like Hermann wants to do. A rental car gives them more freedom, Newt argues, and Hermann reluctantly accepts, too grumpy from the flight over to put up an argument of his own in return—they can take a longer route and see more of the country, make a fun little k-science road trip out of it.

The idea seemed more fun at the time. It's summer! People take road trips in the summer! Newt and Hermann have spent five long years crammed into a damp, chilly basement together, and they earned some open roads and open skies. Take in the natural beauty of the world, still standing as it was against all odds. Or something.

"Are we here already?"

"No," Hermann says. "I don't know why we're—did you fall asleep? You're meant to be navigating."

"Jet lag, man," Newt says, and yawns into his elbow. "I'm stupid sleepy. You sure we're not here?"

"Does it look if we—? Oh, I don't believe it," Hermann snarls as the car wheezes to a halt. "Now?"

Newt started getting the impression the second they left their hotel that Hermann doesn’t realllly want to go. And why would he? By all accounts his family dynamic kind of sucks and they most likely only invited Hermann as some weird hand-wavey apology for all those years of—uh, well, kind of sucking. We’re really sorry about the whole wall thing, Hermann, but now that you’re all famous and have an incredibly hot boyfriend, won’t you please show your face around us again?

Newt’s flattering himself here. He wasn’t actually invited. He has a distinct feeling he was the opposite of invited. When he asked Hermann about it (you sure it’s cool if I come?) Hermann just scowled and said something to the effect of they should expect that I would bring you, it’s only natural given that we are— and then pretended to cough a bunch. Newt politely handed him a glass of water and didn’t press him further. They are something! They’re k-science, Newt and Hermann. Good enough for Newt.

He loves a party. He’s not sure he’ll love a Gottlieb party, but he’ll make it work, even if Hermann wouldn’t let him bring his guitar or buy fun booze or dress in anything but his most formal pair of slacks. My family isn’t that lively, Hermann said. He bought Newt three depressingly boring non-skinny ties to choose from and spent the week leading up to their flight subtly hinting to Newt that he really ought to get a haircut. Hermann knows a fellow at the Shatterdome, even, who will do it for pennies. Make him look nice and presentable. If that’s who does your hair, man, I really doubt that, Newt said, and then Hermann threw several pieces of chalk at him and definitely-not-deliberately knocked Newt’s iced coffee over onto his pants on his way out of the lab.

It gets Newt so hot and bothered when Hermann resorts to petty stuff like that. He got the haircut.

“You were supposed to fill the tank!” Hermann shouts, smacking his hand against the dashboard like it’s going to help. His palm is conveniently covering the fuel gauge, and Newt nudges it away until they can both plainly see they have almost three-fourths of a tank to go.

“I did, you dick,” he says, and Hermann shuts his mouth real fast. “The engine’s probably busted or the battery’s dead or something. Dude, they totally gave us a crap car just because we wouldn’t take the cybertruck.”

“Rubbish,” Hermann says under his breath. He turns the key in the ignition twice, and the engine makes a few pathetic stuttering noises. The car doesn’t budge.

Newt shakes his head. “No good. Cybertruck revenge. Switch it off, I'm gonna take a look under the hood.”

“Oh, and I suppose one of your doctorates is in mechanics, then?”

Newt ignores him and gets out of the car. Mildly annoyed as he is at Hermann, he’s still careful to roll up the sleeves of the button-down Hermann picked out for him and twist his body as far away as possible from the car as he pops the hood and squints inside. Hermann will be very sad if he gets his clothes dirty.

Truthfully, not that he's going to admit it to Hermann, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His dad tried to teach him once years back, but Newt lost interest once they took the engine apart and he realized it was much more fun to try to rebuild it into something else entirely, like a robot or something. Not that he succeeded there either.

“It’s definitely not working,” he decides.

The other car door slams, and he hears Hermann shuffle off to the side with a loud, disgruntled sigh. Newt shuts the hood and taps at his cell phone fruitlessly. No reception out here on his shitty roaming data, and even if he did have any he’s not sure where they’d find, like, an actually certified mechanic willing to drive all the way out to the middle of nowhere to tow them to Hermann’s parents’ in time for dinner. Maybe in time for lunch tomorrow, but that’s still kinda pushing it. He doesn’t bother asking to try Hermann’s—he left it back at the hotel, allegedly by accident, but Newt has a lurking suspicion that it was subconsciously in the hopes of something like this happening. Oops, sorry, no way to get in touch with anyone, looks like we won’t be able to make it tonight after all.

If they pick a direction and start walking now they might be able to get some cell service or at least find a hotel nearish-by with a phone they could borrow. Maybe some quaint and eye-wateringly expensive Airbnbs. It seems like the kind of place they would have those. On the other hand, wandering around in the German wilderness (relative wilderness, anyway) at dusk is maybe a bad idea. Cliché horror movie shit.

He catches a whiff of stale smoke and whirls around to stare incredulously at Hermann. “Where the hell were you hiding those?” he says.

Hermann, scowling around a cigarette, shrugs one shoulder. “Sock,” he says. “Only three. You know how they are, my family—I felt I may need to invent an excuse to duck outside. Oh, fine.”

He takes one final drag of the cigarette before flicking it to the ground and grinding at it with the end of his cane until it’s nothing but a flattened smear of paper and tobacco ash in the dirt. He thumps his cane at it twice. Then he smacks his cane against the front tire of the car with a metallic thud. Newt perks up in alarm. “Cool it, we didn’t get the insurance.”

“Bloody piece of trash,” Hermann says.

He slumps against the side of the car, smearing grime and probably some smashed bugs all over his clean shirt, and rubs a hand down his face. Newt hesitates a few seconds to make sure he’s not about to start swinging again before sidling up next to him cautiously. He wonders if he should try to give Hermann a hug or an affectionate pat on the shoulder. It’s not something they usually do, affection in general, but Hermann might appreciate the gesture. “It’s just dinner,” Newt finally says. “I didn’t even think you wanted to go.”

“I don’t,” Hermann says.

“Okay, then this is a good thing, right?" Newt says. "We didn’t even have to make up an excuse. This is legit, man, and I mean, it’s not like I was dying to spend some quality time with the in-laws.” Can Newt say that? In-laws? He and Hermann aren’t married or anything, but he’s not sure what else he’d call Hermann’s family that doesn’t sound like he’s deliberately dancing around saying in-laws. “Basically, we’re in the clear.”

Hermann says nothing.

“Wait.” Newt frowns. “Did you think I wanted to go?” The idea hasn’t occurred to him until now (because, like, why would it?), but with Hermann being all weird like this…

“Of course not,” Hermann says. There’s an unspoken but there. Hermann hesitates. Newt waits. The sun is almost finished setting, and under different circumstances he thinks it would actually be a pretty nice night out, like the ones they spent back on the Shatterdome roof bitching at each other and sharing shitty takeout dinner and squinting up at the sky to try to see stars through the light pollution of the city. He wonders if pointing that out to Hermann would piss him off more.

Hermann finally sighs. “I suppose I wanted to introduce you to everyone, is all.”

Newt knows Hermann’s family. Newt actually knows Hermann’s family famously, or maybe he means infamously, and maybe he also means that they know him, thanks to the unfortunate combination of his less-than-stellar professional reputation, his widely-ridiculed televised appearances shortly after the first kaiju made landfall where he pushed the whole extraterrestrial origin angle, and the extremely dramatic, uh, everything he’s had going on with Hermann for well over a decade now. Also, Newt spilled wine on Hermann’s dad at fundraiser once, and the resulting shouting match got them both (plus a not-very-innocent-bystander Hermann) thrown out. The verdict is still out on whether Newt did it intentionally or not. “I think they know me pretty well, dude,” he says.

“Introduce you,” Hermann continues, forcing the words out through gritted teeth, “as my…partner.”

They know we worked together, Newt almost says, and then he thinks ohhh. “Ohhh,” he says.

“Not that I desire their approval for our relationship,” Hermann adds quickly, “or have desired, ever. In fact I rather hope they don’t approve. It’s just that I…” He lifts a hand towards Newt’s arm, stops, grazes his fingers against Newt’s sleeve, and drops away. His teeth are clenched so tightly Newt wonders if he’s going to induce a migraine. “I’m—content with you. With how things are. I, well…” He makes another weird face, and slumps his shoulders forward.

“Content,” Newt says. “Aw, Hermann, that’s really romantic.” The worst part is that he means it. This is the most emotional candidness he’s gotten from Hermann in a very long time of knowing him, and he’s over the moon about it. “I’m cool with how things are, too. I like being your—” He can’t bring himself to say partner. Too academic of them, given their professions. It doesn’t feel gay enough. “—uh, guy. That’s stupid. Your significant guy. That’s stupider.”

Hermann’s mouth finally twists up into a little smile, which was exactly what Newt was going for. He nudges Hermann with his elbow and grins. “Anyway, what I’m saying is you have pleeeenty of time to show me off.”

“Your arrogance is one of your more attractive traits,” Hermann says.

It’s dark enough now that Newt can see the pinprick lights of stars in the sky above them, clear and unobscured by clouds or city lights. Newt thinks he would go nuts if he had to live this far out in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere 24/7, and maybe some of Hermann’s sexier issues make sense now that Newt’s seen his hometown, but a visit is somewhat worth it for this. “Hey, look,” Newt says, pointing and nudging Hermann with his elbow again until Hermann finally rolls his eyes and looks up. “Let’s worry about the phone or flashing S-O-S with our headlights or whatever later, we can actually see stars out here. You wanna give me an official Dr. Gottlieb astronomy 101 course? You know how hot it gets me.”

Hermann gives him another little smile, and Newt takes that as an invitation to throw his arm around Hermann's shoulders and yank him close. “I suppose,” Hermann says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #gaytheropods

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createyourownnarrative · 2 months

Text

Usually I try not to post too much about Long Covid on my regular FB feed. I’ve learned to just not do it. It’s best I save those posts for my support groups where I can get the support I need from people going through the same struggle.

But I need to get this off my chest.

I always knew I wanted to be an artist. I dabbled in many mediums over the years, photography, music, painting, film/media, writing, I’ve made sculptures. I truly enjoy expressing myself through various art forms, and connecting with others through that.

In 2010-2011, after years of working job after job trying to find my passion (when most of my friends were already college graduates with direction) and feeling a little lost, in the retail industry, I put my foot down, went back to school and chose a medium, & decided to pursue THAT. One medium I truly always loved: Photography. In 2012, I exhibited my work for the first time. In 2020 I opened up my first photo studio. A creative space where I can share and make memories. 1 month later, a global pandemic overturns our worlds and realities. I never would have imagined, that, in our lifetime. You just don’t think it could happen to you (to us). But it did. It’s still so surreal to me.

I got sick with Covid twice. I knew some people who had covid over 4-8 times. I had it twice. It only took that first bout with the virus to completely change my life. My body. My mind. My worries. My perspective. My whole world. And my future. I thought I almost had it figured out, my path, my plans, my goals. What I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go. Who I wanted to be. Now i’m grateful that I make it through my day, without collapsing. (which has happened and was very scary). My last two photography jobs, I couldn’t feel my hands. It’s why I’ve been so inactive, since I got sick. Whats going to happen when I can’t take pictures anymore?

When I tested positive for the first time, I cried in the cab ride home. I was beyond terrified. What will this mean? Will I survive this? What is going to happen. I thought if I can get through the virus and live, that’s all I could want. Some months before, I had lost a high school friend, a fellow musician, to Coronavirus. He was only 32 years old. We didn’t know what would happen. Who was at risk of death. After 9 or 10 days, with the virus. I tested negative, and returned to work. Feeling good, that I survived. Especially after day 4, when I woke up gasping for air in the night. I feared I wouldn’t wake up. I got blamed for testing positive by people around me. It was “my fault”. For “not being careful”. I felt so alienated. After I returned to work, I was preparing to move, packing, organizing, purging. One day, I could not get out of bed. And strange heavy symptoms. I thought I had Covid again. Of course the test came back negative.

But I would never be the same again. I never fully recovered from getting sick. Stuck back in 2020.

Do you know what it’s like? I see the world moving on. Almost like it never happened. Our government lying and covering up facts/truth. We are still sick. Still here. 18 million people in America are still sick with Post Covid syndrome. I’m left to feel like it’s my fault..I’m to blame. Because I “didn’t take care of myself.” Would you say that to someone with cancer? Or fibromyalgia? Or heart problems? Or Alzheimer’s? Or diabetes? Or any other illness? The stigma I’m (and we are) facing is unreal. People don’t believe me when I say “I still can’t taste and smell” and that I’m chronically ill now. “You don’t look sick”. “It’s because you party too much”. “you’re getting older” “it’s all those long nights you work on your feet”. I’ve heard it all. “But I see you at the bar working”. I have to work. There is no disability, go fund me, or assistance. I have to pay my rent. On my own. So I need to work. But just because you see me, at work, doesn’t mean I’m well. It just means I’m pushing myself to stay alive. It’s been true torture working through all this. I mourn and grieve for weeks and months at a time. It hasn’t stopped. It took me a long time, to accept that this is not going away anytime soon.

And my heart is broken. I feel left out in the rain. By our leaders, scientists, doctors, friends I thought I had. There is no community support. Even if someone believes you’re sick. No funding/fundraisers for LC. There is no cure, no pill, no treatment, no progress in finding treatment or biomarkers in the body to be able to even test for LC. The unpredictability of it. The symptoms. It’s really been torturous. Torture. A true nightmare. Having to sit in the shower so I don’t fall. Or hit my head (again) Doubling heart rate just upon standing. I get winded just talking and singing karaoke. I forget everything now. I slur my speech, sober. Tremors like Parkinsonism. My memory loss and constant issues feel like dementia-brain fog. I forget how to spell now. my hands turn purple red and blue when I step out of the shower. Migraines that last for months. Months. I take Tylenol like it’s medication. Neuropathy, nerve pain, nerve itches, tingling and numbness. My body temperature can’t regulate, so I often am cold and hot simultaneously. How do you remedy that? The discomfort and distress I feel is unbearable. Loosing clumps of hair. My hair is greying more and more rapidly post covid. Brittle nails. Skin issues. Digestive issues. Eye problems. Cognitive difficulties. Joint pain. Muscle pain. Muscle atrophy. Weakness. Severe severe fatigue. Almost like you worked out at the gym, full body then took a benadryl. Every. Fucking. Day. I’m tired of being so fucking tired. Before Covid, people would always have to tell me to slow down. Working full time, school, internships, photography, going to the gym full time. I always took on so much. I had so much energy and drive. It was a fire in me.

Now it’s gone. A piece of me has died, undoubtedly. And I question everything now. Most days I’m afraid to leave my house. And don’t. Unless it’s to work. If I do leave my house, it’s because I’m pushing myself, and I’m not well. My anxiety and depression are much worse. Chronic illness has also taken its toll on my mental health. It’s been draining trying to keep up with the world. I feel left behind. I’m not only mourning my health, and my abilities, but my passion in life, the one thing I worked so hard for. My future. And Photography. What do I do, if I can’t create anymore? What purpose do I have?

No one believes me, or think LC exists. And if I don’t “show up”, it’s because “she’s a flake”. I’m in such a dark place you may never understand. How do I navigate this life? Being sick every day.

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katyawriteswhump · 7 months

Text

the power of love part 8 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here where it's still in need of love, if anybody is feeling kind *sobs* ;))

Chapter Eight

Eddie POV continued

“You kissed? And now you can’t wake him?” Robin perches beside Steve on the bunk then rounds on Eddie—genuinely baring her teeth. “I shouldn’t leave you alone with him. It’s like you’re cursing him or something.”

“Woah! Are you accusing me of satanist shit now?” Eddie stops pacing the floorboards, claws his hair.

“Steve? Steve! Oh God, please!” She gently pats him, sinks her face into a hand. “Sorry, Eddie. It’s just… totally unexplainable.” She looks up sharply. “That’s exactly what we should be looking for, right?”

“The unexplainable?” Robin nods. “I should be dead. Steve should be bright and breezy—”

“—and it’s not anything to do with the Upside Down.”

Eddie hums uneasily. Should he share the new theory he’s got brewing? “I dunno. It blows to be a cynic, but—"

“Come on, Eddie! There are so many other possible explanations. If the Upside Down is real, who knows what else is? You’re a maestro of the D and D underworld—work with me here.”

They bounce ideas off each other, including that Steve might’ve succumbed to bad beer. Neither of them buy that one.

“Maybe Steve has some sort of regenerative power,” she says, “like Doctor Who. And you’re leeching it out of him, or something.”

Eddie hoots: “It’s my fault again?”

“No! Look, I sometimes get kinda papa grizzly where Steve is concerned, which is odd, because otherwise, I have almost zero protective instinct. We can’t deny the pattern, though—last time you two got mouth to mouth, he performed miracles and then went downhill fast. This time, uh…”

“I slurped the life out of him again?” Eddie sinks down on the opposite bunk. He thinks back to the kiss, which had been so mind-blowingly awesome. Until it wasn’t. Time to test his number one sucks-balls-squared theory of the day.

He slowly peels his shirt—or, rather, Steve’s now extremely grubby t-shirt—off over his head.

“Ew! Save it for the boys, Munson.”

He runs his palm across his midriff, glances over his shoulder, then hurries closer to the window for better light. Holy shit. “I was still covered in scars yesterday. Even earlier today, there was too much pink among the ink. Now there’s diddly-squat.”

“So, Steve is still healing you?”

Eddie scrunches the shirt and hurls it across the room. “Yeah, and at this rate, my payback’s gonna kill him! We’ve been so fixated on Steve—what if I’m somehow a font of crappy juju? The big bad wolf the whole world believes I am, after all.”

“No.” Robin strokes Steve’s arm. Eddie’s dying to be close to him, too. Shit, he doesn’t dare! “It’s the water. It gives him some kind of power, and he’s passing it on to you. I mean, it doesn’t explain everything, but…”

Eddie retrieves his shirt, grabs her lifeline and clings to it. “It’s as good an explanation as any.”

“Ooooh!” She turns super-excited. “Perhaps there are fairies in Lover’s Lake? Water nymphs? Or aliens landed there! I’m still mightily suspicious about those clouds and the choppers, because—”

“This is getting absurd, Robin.” She sneers at him, shrugs anyhow. “Look, if we buy the lake theory, what can we do about it? It’s not like we can drag him there. We left the car practically in the next county, and he’s too sick.”

“I could fetch water and bring it back here?”

“Given my recent form, I think it’s best for you to stay with him. Eddie the Banished will don his armour and head once more into the breach.”

“Shakespeare? You listened in English Lit?”

Eddie puffs out his chest, conjuring a bravado he so doesn’t feel. “Still gonna be my year, Buckley.”

His armour is chiefly the shelter of the forest, during several hours of tedious trek. He cycles the last part of his journey, pulling his bandana over his face. When he makes radio contact with Dustin, however, his journey feels more than worth it.

Eddie arranges a meet with the Wheelers at Skull Rock. At least, he believes he does. Dustin communicates in one of his more baffling codes. Eddie is blown away, therefore, when he spots his fave lil’ dude approaching their liaison spot. Dustin defiantly wears his Hellfire Club t-shirt, despite everything.

Dustin throws down his crutches. Eddie rushes forward and flings his arms around him.

“Eddie! You son-of-a-bitch! You scared me so much!”

“Yeeeah, I was pretty scared myself.” Eddie hugs him tight, squeezes his eyes tighter. Tears leak anyhow. “But I’m alive and…” He pulls back, drinks up the sight of Dustin, who sniffs and rubs his red face. “God, it’s good to see you.”

Somebody clears their throat. Eddie jumps a good two inches in the air.

“Hey.” Nancy Wheeler stands a few yards off, offering a sheepish wave, which Eddie returns.

It’s not really surprising she’s there. Someone had to give Dustin a ride, and help him limp through the woods. Sitting beneath the rock, the three of them discuss possible explanations for wtf is going on with Steve.

“Okay, let me get my head around this,” she says. “You think Steve derives some sort of regenerative power from Lover’s Lake? And he’s sick? Right now?” She frets her lip. “I should go to him.”

“Uuuuuh, no need. We’re coping all right.” Eddie almost laughs out loud at how badly he doesn’t want her anywhere near Steve. He’d never in his wildest dreams have believed he would go toe-to-toe as a love rival with Nancy Wheeler.

She shakes her head. “There’s gotta be a connection with the Upside Down. This is bad. Really bad.”

“Not necessarily,” says Dustin. “I like Eddie’s hypothesis. There’s no logical reason why all the supernatural shit in this town, let alone this world, is evil.”

“It was Robin’s hypothesis,” admits Eddie.

“Whatever,” says Dustin. “If a bad alternate dimension can bleed into ours, maybe a good dimension can too.”

“I suppose,” said Nancy. Eddie nearly agrees with her, but can’t quite be that gracious. “Either way, if that lake fixes Steve somehow, we need to act quick.”

Nancy heads off to collect lake water. Once she’s gone, Eddie feels able to share his other Steve-related issue: “Didn’t want to divulge this in front of Wheeler, but… Uh, Steve and I got mouth-to-mouth again.”

“You had to perform CPR on him? I had no idea you knew—”

“There’s other reasons that lips meet.” Eddie puckers his lips and crosses his eyes, totally silly.

Dustin stares at him, his mouth hanging open. “Oh!”

“Yeah. Theeeeen… he basically passed out.”

“Whut?”

“Look, don’t ask me to explain it! I mean, I like him. I really like him. Equally implausible, I think he likes me, but…” Aargh! His feelings for Steve are more tortuous than pleasurable right now. What’s more, the distance between them makes armouring his heart a teeny-weeny bit easier.

“But?” Dustin bobs up and down on his butt.

“If I’m making him sicker, I should make myself scarce. I still wonder if I’m the bad apple here. Flayed… or whatever. It would neatly continue the sordid tale that is my life. Plus, if Hopper’s back, I bet he can get Steve off the hook for aiding and abetting, or whatever. Steve can go home, get the help he needs.”

“Hopper’s got his own problems, dude.” Dustin scratches his head beneath his baseball cap, kinda nervy. “There’s this army colonel in town, O’Sullivan, who’s pretty much Vecna levels of evil. He knows about Brenner and Hawkins Lab, and… Long story, cut short. He’s out to kill Eleven.”

“You gotta be shitting me!”

“That was my line when I found out. Hopper and El are hiding out, waiting for a safe opportunity to get outta Dodge. The band of the banished gets bigger every day.”

“Well, this exile should return to being a solo act. Steve and I absolutely would not work in the real world.”

“Huh?” Dustin wrinkles his nose. “You’re different—that’s what makes it fun. Even Suzie and I don’t like all the same music, for example. She’s got a real downer on Debbie Gibson.”

“Then maybe I should date Suzie,” mumbles Eddie, avoiding Dustin’s scrutiny. “In reality, Steve and I are from different planets. I’ve seen his house—his folks are loaded.”

“You can’t hold Steve’s parents against him. They’re literally never there for him. His Dad travels tons, and they stopped taking him with him when he was, like, eleven, because…” Dustin’s jaw drops again.

“Because what?” prompts Eddie.

“Steve stopped travelling with his parents because he started getting sick every time.”

“So, he got travel sick. So do tons of kids. So what?”

“I honestly don’t know! But it supports your theories concerning his proximity to the lake. Sort of.” Dustin whacks his cap against the rock. “Jesus-mother-effing-son-of-a-bitch! I am literally dying to return to a world where I can trust the laws of science.”

Steve POV

1979

Getting himself up in the morning, getting himself to the school bus-stop alone—that only sucked.

It was the emptiness of the night that freaked him out.

Steve stayed up too late, of course he did. He was nearly twelve years old, with nobody to tell him what to do. He ate sweets and watched grown-up television, which got boring pretty fast. When he finally plucked up the courage to go to bed, he’d huddle under the covers, muffling his ears. It never drowned out that horrible, screaming quiet.

Who knew silence could be so loud?

He missed his mom, and it hurt, too. Knowing she chose to leave him behind.

He’d hated travelling, because in the last year, he’d always got ill. Like, not just travel sick, but fevers and chills and headaches and stomach cramps, always “ruining” his father’s trips.

Inevitably, his dad decreed that he must stay behind, and the first couple of times, his mom stayed home with him. Then she’d told him his father needed her more. What did that even mean? Steve really, really needed her, simply to be there. Somewhere in the house.

She wasn’t.

The hours would stretch on, while he was too scared to close his eyes, until…

The monsters barged out of the closet, rioting through his nightmares. Then THEY arrived, with their smooth, smiling face and whirlpool eyes. That wordlessly singing voice, trickling through the waters, reassuring him everything would be all right…

In the morning, shuffling to the bus-stop, he remembered them. Clearer than the monsters, even. Oh man, he could be so childish and unhip sometimes.

“Steve? Steve! Please wake up! You’ve been asleep for hours.”

A groan escapes him, and then: “Momma?” Somehow, he knows it’s not her. “Dad?”

He opens his eyes.

Oh shit.

No, that’s not where his life is now. He’s sure as hell not eleven-years-old! Robin looks faintly amused, and also like she wants to thump him: “Gonna give you a pass on that this once, Steve, then go bleach my brain.”

Part 9

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 10 Part 11

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #eddie x steve #eddie munson #platonic stobin #stobin #stobin fic #stobin friendship

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kitthepurplepotato · 1 year

Text

Shenanigans part 9

New to the story? Start with Chapter 1!

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Part 9:

Bakugou Katsuki and the case of the Number One.

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Warnings: Swear words, fighting, sexual tension, 16+ for safety as always.

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“Come on, you waste of space, show me what you got!”

Uhm… so… you kinda made a big mistake today and made your boss a tiny bit angry, or to be more exact, absolutely furious.

You ended up in the massive training area and he definitely looks like he’s ready to spill your blood today and end your hero career for good.

How did you end up in this situation?

Let’s go back in time and see.

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Bakugou is acting really weird today.

You would think the “weird” is a new normal in this office and it certainly is, but this is a different kind of weird.

Bakugou’s unruly blonde locks are even more puffed up today; his whole attire is messy, like he’s having his second rebel phase.

He is also wearing an eyeliner even though this is his paperwork day so he’s not even in his hero costume, and to be absolutely honest… he looks smoking hot.

Okay, this is definitely not appropriate, but hell, you are not blind. If the guy wouldn’t have the personality of a psychopath, he would be able to get into everyone’s panties in a matter of seconds.

There is no way anyone would be able to say no to him if he would smile sometimes. Also, those pecs? Mate, you want them to squish your face so much, it hurts.

Wait.

Why does it hurt?

“What the fuck are you staring at?!”

Oh, Bakugou is pinching your face and pulling the skin so hard it’s about to rip.

“Your stupid punk face?” You answer honestly; well, half-honestly, as you definitely will not share your thirsty thoughts with your boss. You are sure the conversation would end up with your dismissal. “Didn’t know Green Day has a concert in Japan today. Can I come?” You try to smirk at him while your skin goes back to its original place with a loud snap. With a small whine you stroke your red left side with an offended gaze.

“We have another guest today.” He rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your Green Day joke.

“If this is your way to impress, puffing yourself up might work with peacocks, but it doesn’t have the same effect on humans. You are also missing an important feature; the elegant, colorful feathers.”

“The fuck are you talking about, you Fuckstick?! I look like this every day!” The blonde screams, his face hot and red from embarrassment.

“That isn’t how you talk to a lady, my friend.” A new person emerges from thin air, in jeans from head to toe. Literally. You can’t hide your excitement, when your eyes lock with the ‘stranger’.

“Jeanieboo! Long time no see!” You attack the new visitor with a hug right away.

“Y/N, what a pleasure to see you again!” Best Jeanist mumbles into your hair, smiling proudly. “You both were a pain in the bottom to work with, never listening to my advice, or to be exact, never listening - end of the sentence, but I appreciated our time together anyway.” He smiles, his arms still snaked around your shoulders protectively.

“Okay, how the fuck do you know each other?!” Hisses the blonde, clearly unimpressed by the sudden plot twist; he can’t believe the two people he ‘hates’ the most are actually buddies. How fucking annoying.

“I trained Y/N in her country when she was a teen. She was more vicious than you, Bakugou. I didn’t think it’s possible for someone to be more aggressive than you are but she definitely gave a run for your money, child.” He reminiscences and you can’t help but smile thinking about your old self; you were an actual proper menace when you were young, talking back to everyone and ‘exploding shit’ whenever you were in a bad mood.

“Yeah, I will never forget the quirk nulling bracelet you gave me for my 17th birthday. I still don’t appreciate that, by the way.” You murmur, offended. It wasn’t fucking funny. It really wasn’t.

“Well, you tried to burn the agency down because they were out of coffee.” Jeanist furrows his brows, clearly not amused.

“Oh my god, I want to see that.” Bakugou makes an ugly laugh and you can’t help but pout. You really did not want this fucker to know about that embarrassing story. You will never hear the end of it.

“But…” Jeanist continues. “You are your country’s number one hero for a reason. You grew up well.” He smiles, and while you’re about to get lost in all the lovely memories you had with your favorite hero, a tiny explosion crackles from the palms of the blonde, which takes you back to the present again.

“You’ ok, bruh?” You take a look at the furious looking Dynamight. He looks… kinda red. Weird.

“One?!” He whispers, and shit you not, his whispering is the scariest shit you’ve ever heard in your life. You didn’t think a whisper can sound so threatening, but here you are, ready to fight for your life if it’s needed. “You motherfucking useless piece of shit, you, Number One?! What kind of sick joke is that?!” Dynamight screams like the lunatic he is, you sigh, Best Jeanist stares.

The time stops for a second for all of you.

For Bakugou, it stops because of the sudden jealousy in his heart. He feels attacked, because how the fuck is he not the number one yet if everyone else is only an extra? How is the biggest extra in the world number one if he can barely keep his second place? Bakugou’s whole world just shattered. He feels like someone put a stick into his virgin hole and showed it in him so deep it came out of his throat.

For Best Jeanist, the time stops thanks to the sudden tension in the room; he worked with so many people during his hero career, but he never felt so scared for his life. He’s aware that if these two decide to kill each other right now right here, the whole agency will go down with them.

For you… well… you forgot to mention this really important detail to Dynamight for the sake of your safety, so now you’re not just a nuisance but a threat to his number 2 ranking, and fucking liar. Great.

“First of all, this is why I didn’t tell you. Because you are a pathetic little jealous piece of shit who thinks the whole world revolves around his pretty fucking face and no one can be fucking better that he is!”

Maybe that was a bit too honest. Oops.

“Wow, jealous? I ain’t jealous of your sorry ass! I’m just sorry for your country as it’s full of pathetic fucking hero wannabes, if you are their best.”

This is it. You thought you can’t hate this guy more than you already do, but here you are, mentally disemboweling the fucker and trying really hard not to explode his whole fucking agency on him. Where is that bracelet when you need it?!

“I will fucking murder you, Dynamight.” You sneer, taking a step forward.

“You wanna fight, motherfucker?” He answers right away, also taking a step towards you. Best Jeanist is still frozen in place, probably writing his will in his head, just in case.

“You know what, you bleached haired fuckhead, I want to fight.”

“You and me, training room, now!” He screams and pulls you with him by your arms. “Also, my hair is natural, so fuck you.”

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Oh fuck. Oh fuckidy fuckie fuck fuck.

You didn’t think this through. Yes, you are the Number One hero in your country and you also have the coolest fucking quirk on Earth, so beating Dynamight’s ass doesn’t sound impossible.

The main problem is the fact that your boss will definitely never look into your eyes again if you do, but he will also hold a grudge against you if you let him win. So long story short, you are fucked, so honestly, it doesn’t even make sense to stress about this right now, as your fate was decided for you the moment Best Jeanist opened his mouth.

“Is this really necessary?” Kirishima tries his best to save the day and has been constantly trying for the last hour, but his words vanished in the air like a cheeky, scentless fart in the wind.

“Come at me, Number One!” Dynamight calls, half naked, and damn, if you die today, at least the view is nice.

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Why.

Just why.

Having the nerd and his lapdog in the office is one thing, but Best Jeanist?

Mr. Katsuki has all the respect for the guy as a hero, but his sense of style? Hell no. Like… fuck that shit.

Mr. Katsuki decides to go all out today, out of spite; messy hair, rebellious clothing and all those shenanigans. He’s still traumatized since Best Jeanist made his hair flat and ugly that last time during UA. He will never forget looking in the mirror and seeing a bad Monoma cosplay looking back at him. It was terrible.

There is another reason Mr. Katsuki is going all out today, but don’t tell him that we know this; Mr. Katsuki secretly plans to show off to the Menace to let her know what she’s missing out on by being a dick.

No, he doesn’t want to woo the Menace; he just wants to show her that he can be sexy like that. That’s it. No other reason. He definitely does NOT have any kind of feelings towards that fuckstick except for annoyance. No way.

It’s true that he has been a little bit concerned when the Menace disappeared into thin air, but it was more about not wanting to do a shit load of paperwork after the death of a staff member than about being concerned about the actual person.

You don’t believe him?

Fuck you, then.

The plan was working. The menace did her best to bully Bakugou for his rebellious look, but he didn’t miss the way she eye fucked him for a few seconds before opening her mouth.

Mr. Dynamight also liked to hear all the embarrassing stories about the Menace’s childhood after getting over the fact that they had the same mentor back in their school days.

But then… things went south. Really quickly.

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“Come at me, Number One!” Dynamight yells, ready to kick the Number One’s ass back to her bloody useless country.

Bakugou is not stupid, he was well aware that the Menace wasn’t just a side kick back in her country. The villain who ended her career was an extremely powerful one. No side kick stood a chance against him, yet the menace fought him for hours before the terrible accident; but Katsuki didn’t even think about the possibility of her being in the top 10 and being the Number 1 hero was even further on his possibility list.

Mr. Katsuki will never admit this even though it’s really obvious, but he’s still not over the fact that he’ll never get to the number 1 spot in Japan until Deku dies and as Deku and Bakugou are friends; he can deny it but it’s true; and he would never want his friend to die in a battle just to be able to fill his desired spot. Being number 2 is really frustrating for Mr. Katsuki. He was nothing but number one his whole life until his twenties, yet here he is, stuck in a certain spot and he was just told that his useless, annoying piece of shit of a secretary is better than him. He’s not gonna have that. Not without a fight at least.

“Bring it on, sparky boy.” The menace grins in her boring ass sports bra and shorts combo. Mr. Katsuki can only hope her hero costume has more creativity to it than this… not like he cares. He definitely doesn’t care, thank you very much. He would rather die than google her hero name, especially after these news.

“Oh, you will regret saying that.” Mr. Katsuki’s hands sparkle, ready to start this game; he jumps closer, his palms ready to explode in the menace’s face, but she dodges gracefully, moving to the other side of the room in a flash; teleportation quirk or just increased speed? Hell if he knows. In only a few milliseconds, he can see a shadow right in front of him, which indicates that she used the same quirk to attack him from behind; Dynamight moves away with the help of his quirk, but he isn’t quick enough to not get hit in the head with an explosion, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t hurt. It also smells like cotton candy.

When Mr. Katsuki looks back, he’s met with a laughing idiot, folded in half; she’s actually crying from laughter. Mr. Katsuki is furious.

“Oh my god, that was amazing.” The menace screams while she makes tiny, magenta colored explosions with her hands. Mr. Katsuki sees red. The explosions leave a baby pink smoke behind, and the cotton candy smell gets stronger.

Dynamight just got absolutely humiliated and he’s not having it. No fucking way.

“I hope your joke was funny enough for you to die for it.” The blonde grits his teeth and goes all out, and for the next two minutes no one can tell what’s happening on the battle field; there isn’t anything but fog and dust particles, loud bangs and battle screams.

Suddenly, it goes silent. As the fog disappears and the view gets clear; and Mr. Katsuki’s grin can be seen from far away as he pushes the Menace to the floor, keeping her pinned down by her hands and legs.

“Number One my ass.” Dynamight grumbles, panting on top of her; usually he would feel really uncomfortable being so close to someone as he is now, but in the middle of a fight, Katsuki doesn’t care about personal space. He won. That’s all that matters.

“You cheated.” The menace pants and her breath tickles Bakugou’s lips in a really uncomfortable way. His heart rate goes even higher, making him a bit dizzy; is she using another quirk? It wouldn’t be a surprise, she used at least 10 different ones during the fight, making her moves unpredictable. Katsuki might have her pinned to the floor now, but it wasn’t the easiest fight of his life. He’s not happy to admit it, but most of the heroes wouldn’t even be able to touch her. If the menace would change sides they would be utterly fucked. It’s not only about her strength, it’s about her intelligence as well; her movements are perfectly calculated and she’s quick and efficient.

The menace is… extremely dangerous.

“The fuck are you yapping about?” The blonde murmurs, his almost whisper resonating in the dead-silent training room; no one dares to make a noise in the building.

“It’s really hard to concentrate when you’re shirtless, you know.” The menace whispers, her eyes looking up and down his torso then straight to his face. “You’re really fucking beautiful, Dynamight.” She smiles and fuck if that didn’t go straight to his d………

He lost himself in his thoughts for only a second but that was enough for the menace to change the outcome of the fight; while he was busy with his internal monologue, the menace freed herself from his grasp and kicked the blonde right in the crotch, where it hurts the most.

The menace is on top of him in only a second and something, probably another quirk, makes him unable to move completely. Fuck.

“You know fights aren’t just about the strength of your quirk, but about the strength of your brain, baby.” The menace whispers into his ears in the most erotic way possible, her fingers scratching his scalp pleasantly as she rakes his hair back with her fingers.

“You cheated and lied. What a shitty way to win.” The blonde mumbles but his voice is shaky from… embarrassment? Want? Is this what Kirishima was talking about? Is this the feeling he lacked until now? Is this his sexual awakening? Is he Menace-sexual? Why is he not mad about losing? Is it because of the way he lost? Is it out of respect? Is it because it was worth it for the fluttering feeling in his chest? Was the menace always this pretty? Why can’t he look away? It might be another quirk. It needs to be. There is no way he’s…

“I never lied. I do think you are beautiful.” The menace answers with a straight face but her cheeks get rosy when she finishes the sentence; she fists a big bunch of his hair on the front, and Bakugou realizes it doesn’t hurt the way it should; it’s painful and pleasant at the same time. He’s definitely done for, isn’t he? “Don’t underestimate me ever again, Bakugou Katsuki.” She murmurs, and fuck, hearing his first name from the Menace’s mouth is thrilling as fuck.

Honestly, what’s happening to him?!

He doesn’t have time to think about that for too long as his head gets smacked into the floor and everything goes black.

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“I feel like I just found a really good porn to watch, but it started buffering right when the action was about to happen.” Someone mumbles next to Kirishima but he’s too busy having an internal meltdown to tell his underling off for speaking inappropriately.

“So… how long…?” Best Jeanist tries to ask a question but Kirishima honestly can’t answer right now; he stands up and runs to the battlefield. His best friend is unconscious for the fuck’s sake, he can’t be bothered about this sexual tension right now. He needs 5 to 7 days to get a hold of his thoughts about this new revelation anyway.

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You’ve done it.

You flirted with your boss just to win then you lost yourself in the middle of it when you realized how easy it was to do so. Bakugou was right. You wanted to cheat, you wanted to lie, but right after you said those words out loud you realized they were true.

Your mind is an absolute mess right now.

“Was this really necessary?!” Red Riot arrives at the scene and pushes you out of the way to take his best friend into his arms, probably to take him to the emergency room.

“You know one of us had to be unconscious to win otherwise we won’t back down until we pass out from exhaustion.” You sigh, out of breath and out of words. This was probably the best fight of your life. Bakugou is an amazing partner. You might call him names all the time but he’s intelligent and strong, he can keep up with you in a way no one ever could when fighting. This fight with him reminded you of his other self; the one who’s clever and emotional, the one you kinda fell in love with in only 24 hours. Your mind is a mess, your heart is beating out of your rib cage, and shit, you really need some time alone to get yourself together.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Oh, so that was supposed to be a scolding for… for what? For flirting? For cheating?

“Whatever.”

You can’t have this conversation right now. Everything is a mess, the world is black and white, the only thing in color is the unconscious blonde in Kirishima’s arms.

You are definitely not ready to look into those eyes after all of this.

Fuck, you can’t wait to go home and hide under your bed for the rest of the day.

…Next Chapter!

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Waaah this was such a pain to write, sorry for being away for so long! Send me a comment with your thoughts, things are getting heated, eyy! I really wanna fangirl about this plot, help me out, will ya? 😂

I hope you like where this story is going, I can’t wait to dig deeper into it!

Kirishima is the best, isn’t he? 😭 such a protective little brother, I love him so much.

Also, don’t forget that there is a taglist for this story so if you wanna be added, just let me know!

Reblogs are appreciated 💜

Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai

@nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos

#mha x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #shenanigansbypurplepotato #bakugo x reader #Kirishima #platonic kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou

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samptlay · 6 months

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To My Sweetheart Who Carries A Wounded Heart Ch. 9

Series Masterlist, Chapter 1 🤍, Chapter 2 🖤, Chapter 3 🤍, Chapter 4🖤, Chapter 5🤍, Chapter 6🖤, Chapter 7🤍, Blade & Reader's Relationship, Chapter 8🖤

Lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, saying he had a lot on his mind would be an understatement. For some reason, His boss had given him off today a whole week in advance because “he’d be needed somewhere else.” Elio seemed to be 10 steps ahead of everything, so he didn’t question it. But what he did question is the fact that something bad happened to you, and he had time off the exact next day, which was only ever occasional. Did Elio have anything to do with your mental health? Did he play a factor in this?

No, although Blade knew the work he did was questionable and sometimes on the radar of the authorities, he knew his boss would never do something to cause people harm. (This wasn’t true, but he wouldn’t do anything that wouldn’t benefit him or proved to be unnecessary.) But Blade swears that Elio could foresee things others can’t.

But then does that mean this is a sign? He hadn’t realized it until after he called Herta personally, informing her of the situation you had faced recently so that you could take it easy for a while. He wasn’t surprised when Herta was questioning why Blade was calling in for you, not your husband. He simply answered that it was a hard time for the couple and that he was just looking out for both. But she knew that Blade did care one bit for your husband, he proved so time & time again.

That was about two hours ago, and when Blade got up from the black sheets to go get ready for work, both Kafka & Silver Wolf messaged him through a group chat that was created by S.W. when they first started working together. He had never been the best with technology, though he’s no boomer, suffice to say. Picking up the device, he unlocked it to see what they wanted.

Baldie: What’s so important that you two need to spam me while I’m supposed to have a day off? User-Banned: you weren’t at work today so I hijacked my way into your calendar, didn’t know you had work off today.

He still rolls his eyes every time he reads that name. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he changed it, Silver Wolf always made her way into the system to change it back. He just let it be at that point.

Black Widow: I’m sure Elio was the one who scheduled it, with everything that’s happened, you get time off. I’m assuming you also contacted her boss? How thoughtful of you, Bladie. Baldie: How did you even- Nevermind. What do you need? User-Banned: well on the work, Kafka noticed Levi’s car while she was on the highway. Spider Lady found it weird that he was anywhere but home with the woman who holds your heart, (AKA, (Y/N), ofc.) Just to drive up a bit more and see another woman in the passenger seat.

Did he read that right? Sitting on the bed, he blinked twice before looking at the slightly dimmed screen again with eyebrows raised as he finally found the courage to sit up in bed. His teeth clenched together and his hands started trembling while the poor phone in his hand seemed to crackle, this man was not happy in the slightest.

How could that fool even leave you alone for a single moment on a day like this? Though Blade lacked experience in relationships, even he knew that couples were supposed to stick together during hard times. And with how long he’s known your husband and your vents to Blade, he can bet a million credits he didn’t tell you that we left.

Another woman?? Someone other than you? He refused to believe you would choose a partner who took amazing things they didn’t deserve for granted, a prime example of what you are. Levi couldn’t be stupid enough to betray your trust, and abandon you when you needed him the most, could he?

*Ping!* Another notification.

Black Widow: @Baldie, I’m sure Elio made you take off for a reason. Why don’t you give our lovely (Y/N) a call? I’d like to do so, as well as the others but we don’t want to overwhelm her & give her the space she needs. So who better than the one person she trusts no matter what? Black Widow: It’s not a secret that you two are closer to each other than everyone else, and (Y/N) must feel so lonely. So why not give her a little company? Honestly, I’m baffled that she has such a man as her spouse. Stelle told me that he used to have a kind heart until he reached the stages of life, leaving him as a scumbag. Black Widow: Anyways, you know what to do Bladie. Don’t make her wait any longer. Oh, and honestly, we don’t know the full story so we can’t say for certain if he’s having an affair. So avoid much conversation about Levi.

Blade stared at that last message for who knows how long. Kafka seemed to understand human feelings better than anyone else he knows, even though sometimes she seems to lack them herself. But was it really appropriate to call you just to what, hang out? Within less than 24 hours of the loss of your child’s life? If he were to do that, would you be angry with him for crossing a boundary? But since when did you two have boundaries?

With all these thoughts going through his head, he really thought he was hallucinating when Blade saw your name pop up on his screen.

Incoming call.

Taglist: @uhfhfhfhf @xdrin @msun1c0rn @lovingnahida @strrawb3rrysh0rtcak3 @ssecylia @skyl8ver @immahuman @meowmeowraven @01234 @markexplanation @esthelily @dawnofazrael

Borders by @cafekitsune

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #hsr x reader #fem reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #hsr blade #hsr fic

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idontplaytrack · 6 months

Text

“you’re a softie.”

Rosa Diaz x teen daughter! reader

warnings: mentions/descriptions of anxiety, medical gaslighting, chronic pain & illness

in which, rosa gets a call from reader’s school that she hates to receive.

part 2 here!

rosa’s always been a private person, you knew her reasons for not telling her friends about you. however, it wasn’t exactly like it ever came up after all the (very limited) knowledge they had about your mother. but of course, one person on the 99th precinct squad was the exception- captain holt.

the day was going by as per usual, until diaz abruptly went onto the terrace to answer a phone call. the noise startles the relatively quiet bullpen, but they resumed their respective work tasks. “what’s going on with rosa?”

“hm?” amy asks, still distracted by her paperwork.

“rosa seems very…i dunno. have we ever seen her showing this much emotion on her face? that isn’t annoyance or anger?” jake shrugs, pointing at rosa who was currently on the phone with you.

“she doesn’t look happy though. that can’t be good.” amy seethed. just as she finished her sentence, rosa reenters the bullpen and was immediately headed for holt’s office. she knocks, he allows her to enter.

“diaz. how may i help you?”

“my daughter called me. i need to take her home from school. her symptoms have been flaring up for awhile. i don’t want her to get hurt if she makes her own way home.”

“very well. i understand. how much time do you need?”

“can i clock out now? i’m not sure if i need to take her to the hospital or not because she’s not really talking to me- i’ll stay later tomorrow and do whatever task you assign me.” rosa promised.

“hand over the work on your desk to me and you may clock out.” holt decided.

“thanks.” rosa swiftly walked to her desk to grab the small stack of files and turned it in to holt, then left the precinct without another word.

————

“i can’t believe you won’t let me get a car.” rosa scoffs playfully.

“and let you part ways with your motorcycle? I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“i can have both, you know?” rosa bit back a smile, “are you sure you don’t want me to get us a cab home?”

“hurts, but eh.” you shrug.

“hospital?”

“just let me curl up in bed for a couple days, they’ll just hook me up to an iv and give me the same meds i have at home.” you sigh, “i’m due for an mri in two weeks anyway- i can tough it out till then.” rosa pulls you to the side, “i don’t want you to tough it out. your doctor already said that if the pain suddenly worsens and persists you can go in to see her.”

“i can, but i won’t.”

“you amaze me.” rosa huffs, “flareups cause you a 8-9 out of 10 pain and you can walk, spend a whole day out.”

“all thanks to the whole year of medical gaslighting. had to learn how to function with the symptoms.”

you two board the subway and rosa spots a seat. she nudges you to sit down but you refused. “sit. down.” she insisted. “fine, fine.” you gave in, she stands in front of you, keeping the conversation going to keep your mind off of the pain. “how was school today?”

“just did worksheets and asked questions if i had any. but, lunch did suck.”

“why? someone give you trouble?”

“no, the food was revolting.”

rosa lets out a soft laugh, “is there anything i can do to make you feel better?”

“i already had you abandon your work at 2pm. i feel bad as it is. i could’ve went home myself.”

“yeah, i’m not risking that.” rosa scoffs, “nice try.”

“how about a slice of pizza from your favourite place? or two?” rosa suggests.

“if you want.” you shrug, tired.

getting off the subway, she leads you to your favourite pizza place - it was a short walk. pushing the door open, the bell above the door tinkles. “hey, y/n!” the usual counter staff, ana, spotted you. “ay, rough day?”

“she’s not feeling well.” rosa answered on your behalf.

“pobrecita.” ana frowns, “usual order?”

“yep.” rosa nodded curtly, “2 slices sausage. 2 slices pepperoni.”

“of course, just a minute.” the older lady smiled. rosa paid, then took you to the side to wait away from, the crowd. she had a protective arm around you. “i’ll be fine.” you glanced up at her. “i don’t care. you’re my baby.” to you, this was the norm, but still quite rare. you just knew her coworkers would kill to hear this interaction.

after picking up your order, you and rosa resumed your journey home. the last stretch was a nine minute walk from the pizza place. once at home, you excused yourself and went to change into your favourite loungewear set. that made you feel a tad better: to be out gross sweaty clothes. soon after you emerged from, your bedroom, rosa walked out from hers donning a plain black tank top and a pair of matching leggings.

“let’s eat.” rosa tilted her head toward the dining area. you walk over before she did and laid the table. “ana gave us free garlic knots and sauce again.”

“she always does that when you go there with me.” she smirked. you chuckled, sitting down. “didn’t you tell her to stop doing that?”

“i did, but she likes giving you a little treat. her words, not mine.” rosa shrugged, “the lady’s happy. let her do it. she’s been there since before i had you- she’s kinda like another abuelita of yours. besides, she won’t take my money. i tried to pay her back for the extras she gave, but she wouldn’t take it.”

you fought back a laugh, “what?”

“it’s true.” she places the box containing the pepperoni pizza in front of you, “she’s been there for years.”

“i know.” the laughter mellows out and you quietly ate your slice, your mind drifts off. rosa caught you spacing out almost instantly. you caught her gaze for a moment, “i’m fine. just trying not to think about anything at all, actually.”

she shrugs. “how was work?”

“the recent cases are nothing too intense so i won’t be working too much overtime, i hope. it was a good day, though.”

“good. why?”

you saw that subtle glimmer in her eyes, “you know, don’t you? you just want me to say it.”

you gave her cheeky grin as you chewed your food.

“ha! some things really don’t change.” she remarked, “you always gave me this…grin even when you were really little.”

“you’re a softie.” you teased her. she purses her lips together, her attempt of trying not to smile or laugh. which failed - the corner of her lips tug into a small smile.

“take a nap after this.” she changes the subject abruptly.

“okay, softie.” you pout.

————

the remainder of yesterday went by like clockwork during a flareup for you. so it was uneventful in rosa’s opinion, and she was glad to be back at work the next day because that meant you were in less pain than you were before. “why’d you leave work so early yesterday?”

“not talking about that, jake.” she told him absentmindedly, focused on her computer screen.

“oookay.”

“i’m not kidding.” she glares at him. he rolls back to his desk on his chair, “i’m gonna keep bothering you till i find out~”

“not gonna happen.”

“diaz, my office.” holt stepped into the bullpen briefly. rosa followed him inside silently. “you don’t have to work over time this evening.”

“i can.”

“there is no need.” holt reiterated, “there isn’t any paperwork that needs to be done.”

“okay.” rosa acknowledges with a nod, “is there anything else?”

“yes, how is your daughter doing?” he asked, which caught rosa by surprise.

“better. she’s at school again.”

“that is good to hear. dismissed.”

as soon as rosa shut holt’s office door behind herself, jake returned with the same question. “shut up.” rosa’s phone beeps, jake beats her to it. “oh! your phone’s not on silent mode like it usually would.” he peeks at the screen, “oh my god, rosa-”

“what?” rosa deadpanned, “give it back.”

scared, jake handed the device over. but it wasn’t just that. rosa’s been way more guarded up ever since your recent diagnosis of this chronic illness— which your doctor told you was a rare disease. by the name of aggressive fibromatosis. something apparently ‘harmless’ but has been the root cause of your pain and sleepless nights. the name alone terrified you, even rosa. but more so when she sees you go through a flareup episode. for the first time in her life, she felt helpless. she hadn’t told anyone other than holt, and he didn’t even know the specifics. it took a very long time for you to get answers. doctor after doctor brushed you off and painted you as crazy or dramatic, telling you it was either period cramps or all in your head. day after day, rosa’s anger grew but her patience depleted. she was desperate for you to get the help you needed and she was so, so relieved that you did now. but despite knowing she would probably need the help of her friends in one way or another regarding your situation, she was still choosing to keep this to herself.

but, you were absolutely right about one thing. she was softie. but only you have seen this side of her, and maybe arlo- but he was a puppy. which sadly passed away some time ago.

“who is she? why’s she calling you softie?” asked jake, eagerly.

“give it up, jake.“ rosa exhaled sharply, “give it up.”

“fine, softie.”

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz x daughter reader #b99 #brooklynninenine #alternateuniverse #comfort #sickfic #x reader #reader insert #teen daughter reader #daughter reader #alternative universe #reader imagine

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

Text

Burden

Chapter 8: The Mist Waits

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

I finished earlier than I thought I would, so enjoy the early chapter release y'all!

TW: Violence, confrontations, The Fates, Desire, blood, Dark Daunt, cliffhanger

Rose Walker was having an odd day. So much had happened in such a short time, and the girl wasn’t sure whether the appropriate response would be to cry in joy or to scream in frustration. She had family left, a Great Grandmother that seemed to want the same things that she did. Jed back home and safe, and them to all be a family once again. Now she had the resources to start truly looking for her brother and, hopefully, to bring him home once and for all.

“I’ll just get Lyta. Be right back,” Rose said in answer to one of the new people added to her odd little circle.

“Rose,” a voice called out to her, soft and young.

She stopped walking for a moment, quietly questioning whether the voice was in her head or actually coming from within the home. “Rosebud,” another voice said, maternal and warm.

“Rose Walker,” a third replied, cold and older.

She felt afraid and uncertain for a moment as her feet carried her forward to the closest door, the only logical place one could whisper to her from. Once she opened the door, she was greeted by three figures clothed in black.

“Hello, Rosie,” the youngest said.

The second smiled. “Come in, my butterfly.”

“You are at a crossroads, Rose Walker.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“Names, names, names,” the eldest among them said, waving her question away.

The youngest smiled sweetly. “Each name is but a single aspect of the whole.”

“Be satisfied by the trinity you have, love. You wouldn’t want to meet us as The Kindly Ones.”

“We can only caution you, sister.” The youngest looked darker. “We can’t protect you.”

A chill ran up Rose’s spine as she asked, “Protect me from…”

A maternal laugh echoed around her. “From life, my posy.”

“And the things that hover beyond life.”

“Thrashing themselves against it,” the eldest finished.

“Beware dreams,” the youngest whispered. “And houses. And trees.”

The cold voice sighed. “You ask the wrong question.”

“Had you asked the right one, we could have warned you against The Corinthian and the ghost of mist that haunts his steps.” The warm voice said.

“Told you about Jed,” the young voice continued.

“And about Morpheus.”

The light turned on, and the figures vanished before Rose’s eyes, almost as if they’d never been there… and maybe they hadn’t.

He stood in the center of the throne room, staring at the steps that Daunt had stood on. Dream had spent every free moment searching for The Forest, to no avail. The realm had either vanished entirely or closed itself off from him, as Daunt had after that day in Fiddler’s Green. Sadly, he was more inclined to believe the latter to be true. His head spun with the sheer number of concerns plaguing him, awaiting to be addressed. Dream of the Endless felt like he had back in the Burgess basement, only somehow worse. He felt he was being pulled in every direction, forced to split his focus between dire events, and feared no matter what he did, one or more would slip through the cracks and result in yet another loss for him to bear.

“My lord,” Lucienne’s soft voice called him from the dark corners of his mind as she approached with a book. “Forgive me for intruding, but I have the volume you requested.”

“Yes,” he sighed, taking the heavy leatherbound book from her hand and moving to sit on the bottom step of the stairs, hoping the vision of her bloodstained gown would fade from memory if he was not looking at them. “I assume it holds nothing of use as all the others.”

His librarian nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so.”

“Jed Walker is still in the realm of the living, but I cannot find him.”

“No. Nor I, my lord.” She answered.

“All humans are connected to The Dreaming.” He shook his head. “They spend a third of their life here. Breaking that connection would require knowledge. And power.”

“Then it may interest you to know that the last nightmare Jed Walker had before he disappeared was of Gault.”

“You think she severed him from The Dreaming?”

Lucienne nodded. “I do.”

“Why?” He questioned.

“Because he’s not just any child, is he?” She replied. “He’s Rose Walker’s brother. She is the Vortex.”

Quiet footsteps echoed in the empty throne room as a dark figure walked toward them. “Excuse me. I am Rose Walker. What do you know about my brother Jed?”

Lucienne turned to Dream with wide eyes and an open mouth. Daunt’s words echoed in his ears. Sight alone will not tell you her secrets. He stood and smiled. “You are welcome here, Rose Walker.”

She looked around for a moment before asking, “Who are you?”

“You have somehow dreamed your way into an audience with Lord Morpheus. The King of Dreams,” Lucienne answered sternly. “And now you must go.”

“Lucienne.”

His librarian sighed. “She shouldn’t be here.”

He tilted his head slightly. “No, but I should like her to stay.

Rose Walker was indeed the vortex. Dream could feel it swirling around her. Power and mystery and something else, something that felt familiar. Lucienne’s apprehensive demeanor did not shift while Rose stood in his realm. He could not blame her. After all, a Vortex was a volatile and uncertain thing. Matthew agreed to watch over her in the Waking World, and as Rose Walker returned to her bed, Lucienne gave Dream a look. “Are you certain this is wise, my lord?”

“Gault must be found one way or another,” he answered carefully. “Leave Rose Walker to me, Lucienne. In the meantime, continue your search of the library for anything that may lead us to The Forest.”

The Corinthian enjoyed tea. He enjoyed the smell of the soft floral notes and earthiness and found the taste to be almost comforting. Though he’d never allow himself to linger on why he enjoyed such things, a lingering nagging voice in the back of his mind told him repeatedly. It reminds you of her. This was, of course, a voice he smothered when he was able. Instead, he smiled beside Unity, listening to her so easily give up the information he needed. It was inconvenient that Rose Walker had returned to America, but The Corinthian didn’t mind much.

If she was the key to his permanent freedom, he’d go to the ends of the earth to find her. Daunt’s white form stood before him, bathed in the light from the window, but that light did not touch her. Instead, she dampened it with her presence alone. “What do you fear more, I wonder? Not finding your vortex in time or having her deny you as all others have.”

As he walked out of the old home, he clenched his jaw at her presence beside him. “Answer me, nightmare.” She insisted. “Answer me, betrayer.”

“I’m not scared of anything,” he spat at her. “Not some fuckin kid, not Dream, and certainly not you.”

Laughter echoed around him as the sky grew dark with storm clouds. He turned to face her, to find her gone once again, but before he could even breathe, he felt her cold hand wrap around his neck. Long nails bit into his skin as she leaned in closely and whispered. “You should fear me, dear Corinthian.”

He tore himself away from her, searching for the white maiden in the open streets. “Mine will be the last face you see.”

“My lord,” Lucienne called out as she approached with confident steps. “May I help?”

Hunched over the table, he glanced up at her. “Is this everything we have on Rose Walker?”

She nodded. “And Jes Walker. But I shouldn’t think there’s anything in those you don’t already know. Except perhaps-”

“Except perhaps why she was able to wander into my throne room.” Dream sighed. “What do you think? Why did Gault target her brother and not her?”

“Did you read about Unity Kincaid?” She asked, turning away from him to fetch another book. “The day you were imprisoned, there were people all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up. Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the “sleepy sickness.” The day you returned, she woke up.” She set the book down in front of him. “Rose Walker is her great-granddaughter.”

He hummed. “Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex.”

“Is that not a possibility?”

“Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena,” he stated with a smile. “No one knows why they happen. Not even I know. But I do know they are not caused or created. They simply happen.”

Lucienne’s eyes narrowed as she thought about his words. “Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?”

Dream sighed. “My instinct says no, but tonight, when Rose Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly. May I?”

Lucienne held up a hand to stop him. “There is something else, my lord.”

“What is it?” He asked, reading the way her face tightened as she spoke.

“I know every book in this library,” she began, turning away from him and retrieving something from a nearby shelf. “I know this library and these books and… yet…” she returned, holding a pale book in her hands and offering it to him with a saddened face. “Somehow, this one has been hidden from me for eons. It should not be possible.”

“And yet it is,” he said, gently running his hands along the white bindings, glistening with jeweled leaves of green. On the first page, The Great Tree was illustrated in deep tones of brown and emerald, surrounded by the smaller trees covered in mist. It was almost as if he could feel the leaves beneath his fingertips and the cold mist caressing his skin. It was almost as if this book was alive.

Lucienne looked at the beautiful thing with fondness and apprehension warring in her eyes. “I’ve tried to read it, but it’s… Incoherent.”

“How so?”

“Most of the pages are blank. There appear to be remnants of words written on some, and other pages or paragraphs are perfectly legible. The words, however, make little sense given all that is missing.” She shook her head and sighed. “Only the illustrations remain intact.”

As Dream flipped through the pages, studying the little words scribed here, he stopped at another picture. Daunt, or rather a drawing of her, white amidst a sea of dark colors. His heart felt heavy in his chest the longer he looked. “This will not tell us where she is.”

Lucienne’s soft eyes met his as she spoke, “No, my lord, it won’t. But…"

“What is it, Lucienne?”

“One of the illustrations seems to depict what happened to her… What kept her from reaching you the day she left.” He handed the book to her instantly. If there was a way to learn what befell her on his behalf, he had to see it. He had to know.

The librarian quickly flipped through the pages before holding the book back to him with downcast eyes. There on the red-stained page were three words… Daunts last words. “My dear Corinthian.” The image showed her standing on a bridge, holding his nightmares cheek as The Corinthian pushed his blade into her chest.

Dream drew in a deep breath as The Dreaming rippled with the rage that filled his heart. “The Corinthian…”

Lucienne bowed her head lower. “It is my fault. I should not have given her his location nor asked her to seek him out.”

“No.” He breathed out, tears welling as his finger glided across the worn page. “The fault lies with me. She would not have been vulnerable had I failed my duty to retrieve the nightmare.”

“My lord…” she whispered. “If this image is corrected, then… is Daunt not… dead?”

“No.” Dream looked up at her, meeting her wet eyes with his own. “Death told me she’d not been called to The Forest for Daunt. Daunt herself told us she was lost.”

Lucienne shook her head. “My lord, that… vision… that apparition spoke in naught but riddles. If it was truly Daunt, then she is not in her right mind.”

“Perhaps she is not,” Dream replied solemnly. “But the fact still stands that she lives. She lives, and I will find her if it is the last thing I do in this existence.”

That night he accompanied Rose in her dreams to search for Jed Walker and Gault. That night he had the chance to examine the vortex up close. Dream had expected Rose Walker to be impressive, but the way she adapted to her newfound abilities as a Vortex was surprising, even to him. She found her way through the dreams of those closest to her, following his advice and asking questions, seemingly wanting to learn from him. Most impressive was her ability to stay focused through each dream, never losing sight of her purpose within them and never seeking to abuse the power she held.

She led him to Gault with ease, and once his nightmare was back within his grasp, he ensured she would not be free to defy him again. He did not regret his harsh punishment of the shapeshifter, but he did feel an unpleasant knot form in his stomach after his less-than-kind treatment of Lucienne after the fact. Still, he moved forward. Too much demanded his attention to focus on keeping his realm safe. The notion of that seemed simple enough until a crack appeared in the stained glass window above his throne, and the entire palace shook violently around him. After that, all he could do was watch in horror as the cracks grew before his very eyes.

“Loosh? You in here?” The pumpkin head made a quiet noise of apprehension. “Sorry, boss, I was just looking for Lucienne. See ya.”

“Wait.” He ordered. “Why were you looking for Lucienne?”

“Oh, well, we just had some minor seismic activity and a little, you know, damage I wanted to report.”

“Then why not report it to me?” He asked.

“Uh, because you’re busy?” Mervyn offered. “While you were away, Lucienne started taking care of that stuff, so I figured why bother you when-”

A dark feeling curled around him, nearly squeezing all the air as he said, “Mervyn if The Dreaming has been damaged in any way, I will be the one to address it.”

The floor shook, and the cracks spread throughout the windows and up the stone walls. “Oh, for crying out loud. Do you want me to fix that for you? Or will it just keep happening?”

“It will not keep happening because I will find the cause of the disturbance, and I will eliminate it. Thank you, Mervyn.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” the handyman replied before turning and hurrying in the opposite direction.

Dream returned his eyes to the glass as it continued to crack. He would not watch his realm crumble again. The halls shook around him as he made his way to the library with hopes Lucienne would be able to provide him with some information on these tremors. “Lucienne?”

She stood off to the side, re-shelving books with a slightly pensive face. “My lord.”

“I have come to return these.” He handed her the books, their eyes meeting in an awkward stare. “And to assess the extent of the damage from the recent disturbances.” She said nothing, merely watching him as he bent down and picked up a stack of fallen books. “Have you any idea as to what caused them?”

“I assumed it was you, sir,” she said almost coldly.

“Me?”

“Making further improvements to the realm… now that you’re back.” She clarified as she brushed past him.

Dream sighed quietly. “Lucienne, when we last spoke, I did not mean to imply that your efforts beyond the library are without value.”

“Oh?” She questioned, clearly frustrated.

“I merely wish to relieve you of responsibilities with which, had I been here, you would never have been burdened.”

“I see.”

“And in that time, did you experience any… similar seismic disturbances?” he inquired offhandedly, looking at the book he still awkwardly held, only peeking up at her.

I did not.”

“Have you any… theory as to their origin?” He pressed cautiously.

At last, Lucienne set down the stack of books she held and turned to him. “Speaking strictly as a librarian? I do. But you won’t like it.”

“Go on.”

“I know you’re waiting to see if the vortex will lead you to The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green. The way she led you to Gualt.”

“She may yet still.”

She scoffed. “Yes, but while you’re waiting, she’s putting cracks in the foundation.”

“Rose Walker has visited this realm before and done no damage,” he pointed out. “This is something else, something new.”

“Perhaps, but if there is something new in The Dreaming and you did not create it, how did it get here?” She asked. “This is the vortex. I assure you.”

As soon as he could, Dream found Rose Walker’s dreams and watched her closely as the landscape marred with cracks and the house he’d not built appeared before him. Lyta Hall was indeed pregnant; by the look of it, she and her dead husband had somehow managed to find a way inside his realm in secret. He would be furious. How could he have been so blind? How could he have allowed a vortex to cause such chaos just to aid him in mending his own troubles?

Matthew cawed beside him. “So, what do you think?”

“Tell Lucienne she was right about the source of the tremors.” Dream ordered. “And that I am taking care of it.”

The raven took to the skies quickly as he moved forward, entering the house with ease and staring down the spirit that had found its way here. He knew, without Dream having to say a single word, the spirit knew that his time here was up.

Lyta and Rose entered, laughing with one another. “Hector, look who’s here.”

Both women slowed as they looked at him. Lytas face was drained of the happiness that had been there moments ago, while Rose looked confused. “Lyta, you remember I told you about Lord Morpheus, the King of Dreams?”

“What do you want?”

“He wants us to leave,” the spirit answered.

Rose looked at her dead friend and then back to him. “Why?”

“Because a ghost cannot escape his fate by hiding in The Dreaming. Nor can a living human being escape her grief here.” He shook his head. “Do you not see the damage your presence has done to this realm? I cannot allow you to stay.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“You belong with the dead,” Dream answered. “You must go to the place appointed for you. I’m sorry, but you must say your goodbyes now.”

Lyta exhaled a shaking breath and shook her head. “No. I’m not losing you again.”

The spirit approached her with a sad smile. “I love you so much.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the woman insisted, pressing a kiss to her lover’s lips. “Get out of our house!”

“Lyta-”

A soft chill stilled the harsh words on his tongue as mist swept across the floor. Dream turned to look at her lithe figure standing in the room with them. Daunt did not acknowledge him or Rose or even Lyta, only the spirit once named Hector. She raised a pale hand, covered in frost and frozen vines, toward him as she whispered, “Come.”

“Hector!” Lyta cried out, taking hold of the spirit’s arm as he began to turn toward the specter.

“She’s here for me.”

“You can’t go with her. You can’t go!” Lyta cried. “I can’t… not again.”

“What is lost will always be found.” Her words were cold, carrying the chill of the mist and frost. Dreams’ heart stuttered at the sound of it.

“Daunt,” he whispered her name like a desperate prayer, a plea to her. Hear me... Look at me.

Her head turned in his direction, and even from behind the veil that shrouded her face, he could feel her eyes. He almost dropped to his knees then and there in the crumbling dream Lyta Hall, and her dead husband had built, but she turned away from him and once again beckoned the spirit to her.

Hector spared Lyta a look before pressing a kiss to her lips and cradling her round belly in his hands. “Tell the baby I love them. Never let them forget just how much I love them.”

With a weak sob, she nodded. “I won’t, not ever.” She sobbed as she cupped his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” the spirit whispered. “Goodbye.”

He turned and lifted his palm into Daunts. A wave of mist and distant wolf howls echoed all around them. Dream took a half step forward at the familiar sounds of The Forest’s call - of Daunt’s call. The spirit let the mist wash over him with a content sigh before he vanished from sight. Rose held her friend closely but never looked away from Daunt as she remained.

“Child born of death and dreams,” Daunt said, her voice echoing like ocean waves. “Evil will seek it out to steal its power.”

“No!” Lyta shouted, turning her head toward the white figure. She shook her head, holding her stomach tighter. “No.”

Rose rubbed her arms. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep them safe.” She looked at Dream desperately. “Right, Dream?”

He was frozen for a moment, still looking at her, before he nodded stiffly and looked at Lyta. “So long as I live, no harm shall befall your child. Not in the Waking World and not in dreams.”

The woman didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, she nodded and eased into Rose’s arms.

“We are running out of time,” Daunt said to him.

“Then help me,” he pleaded. “Open your realm and let me in.”

She tilted her head. “Only you hold the power to do so, Dream of The Endless.”

“What do you mean?”

“My realm was never closed to you,” she answered.

Dream sighed, stepping closer to her. “I do not understand.”

Daunt lifted a frozen hand to his face, her thin fingers traced over his eyes. “You do not need to understand. You only need to see.”

Mist slid through his fingers and smoother gently across his cheek. Gone again from him, the crumbling dream was all that remained. The two looked sad when he turned back to Lyta Hall and Rose Walker. Sad for him. Lytas’ eyes held an understanding beneath her deep anger and loss. Rose spoke, “Who was she?”

“An immortal being,” Dream answered simply. “One that is not your concern.”

“You care for her.”

A painful longing exploded within him as he turned away from them and said, “This dream is over.”

When he finished repairing the damage to his realm, he sought Lucienne out. Matthew would have already delivered his message, but Dream owed his librarian an apology. “Lucienne?”

“My lord. There’s something I must tell you,” she said as she hurried out from around the corner.

“And I will listen. But, first, you must let me tell you that… you were right.” He said softly, noticing immediately how her eyes looked up at him with light and hope renewed inside them. “The vortex was responsible for the damage to our realm, and I was… wrong to risk our safety in the hope that she would locate the missing Arcana.”

“You were not entirely wrong, sir. She’s found them both.”

“What? The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green? Where? How do you know?”

“Fiddler’s Green told me.” She looked over to the shelves at the man… at Fiddler’s Green as he emerged from behind the racks.

He bowed. “Apologies, lord, for having left.”

“Why?” He asked, desperate to understand what he’d done wrong. “Why did you leave? I trusted you. You were the heart of The Dreaming.”

“No, sir. You were the heart of The Dreaming. And you were gone. I was curious. And it turns out that life as a human contains substance I never even imagined when I was here.” He sounded so vibrant. “Which is why I’ve returned because… he’s murdering them.”

“The Corinthian?” It wasn’t shocking to learn of his nightmare’s recklessness.

Fiddler’s Green nodded, face twisting in disgust. “He appears to have built up a cult of worshipers who kill for pleasure, endangering the Waking World and the life of a friend called Rose Walker.”

“The Corinthian has found Rose Walker?”

“Yes.”

Lucienne shook her head. “Can you imagine the damage he could do with someone like Rose?”

“You must tell me where they are.”

The Corinthian stood at the podium, delivering a confident and proud speech inspiring the room of pathetic and deluded humans to imagine their atrocities. Dream stood in the aisle, watching his creation with ill-tempered rage swimming in his chest. The nightmare noticed him quickly but did not stop his speech until he’d finished. Always doing things on his own terms, Dream thought silently, for a brief moment admiring the determination he had forged. But was it not that determination that led him to plunge that knife into Daunt’s chest? To betray the one he called friend?

“You disappoint me, Corinthian,” Dream said through tight lips. “You and these humans you’ve inspired and created… disappoint me.”

His words visibly struck his creation as he bared his teeth. “I’ve done my best to be what you made me.”

“No,” he replied with a slight chuckle as he walked toward the stage. “You’ve done your worst, which was in so many ways what I had hoped. You were my masterpiece. A dark mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.”

“That’s what I am,” The Nightmare nodded, straightening his back as he turned to face his creator. “That’s what I’ve done.”

“No. Look at you, walking this Earth for over a century infecting others with your joy of death, but what have you given them? What have you wrought?” His anger began to seep into his words. “Nothing. Just something else for people to be afraid of. That is all.”

The Corinthian scoffed, cocking his head ever so slightly. “So what now? You send me back into their dreams?” He pulled a knife from his jacket, a knife not unlike the one he’d used on Daunt, and shook his head. “Cause I won’t go willingly.”

“A knife against a dream?” His voice was dark wind and shadow as he stepped towards his creation slowly.

“You don’t think dreams can die? Let’s find out.” The Corinthian insisted.

Dream held his hand out, drawing upon his power. “Enough.” The sand moved at his feet as The Corinthian stabbed his knife into his outstretched hand. The pain startled him back and to his knees as he looked down at the wound. “How?”

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker,” The nightmare said with a wide grin. “She’s taking your place at the center of The Dreaming. She’s bringing the walls down between the sleepers’ minds, and now they’re all dreaming the same dream. A dream that I inspired.”

“No.”

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.”

“Then she’s not beyond my reach.”

The Corinthian shrugged. “Oh, I think she is. Now that she knows you’re planning to kill her.”

Dream pushed himself into the horrific visions molding together just as she and her brother turned towards him. “You need to wake up!”

“Don’t listen to him, Rosebud. You’re the one with the power now, not him. This is your dream.”

“It’s his dream for your world,” Dream corrected.

The Corinthian smiled at Rose. “Then let’s make it yours. Whatever you want, Rose. A blank canvas!”

The dreams of her brother and the other humans vanished, and Rose’s eyes went wide with fear. “Where’s Jed?”

“Jed’s fine. He’s upstairs, asleep, he’s right next to you. This dream is yours now. The Dreaming is yours now!”

“The Dreaming is yours? Is that what he told you?” Dream demanded coldly.

Rose looked up at him, confusion evident in her eyes. “He told me you were gonna kill me.”

“Did he tell you why? When a vortex brings down the walls between dreams, she creates a single volatile dream that will collapse in upon itself, and take the waking world with it. Your world. Everything and everyone will die.”

The Corinthian bent down to Rose’s ear. “Don’t believe him, Rosie.”

“It’s happened before. I failed in my duty, an entire universe was lost.”

“He can’t kill you if you kill him first.”

“Killing me may save your life, but it won’t save the lives of those you love.”

“I’m tryin’ to keep you alive here!” The nightmare growled, the playful mask he bore slipping at last.

“I’m trying to keep your world alive,” Dream argued.

The Corinthian growled, “You have to choose one of us, Rose!”

“Enough!” She shouted above their noise, waves of power rolling off her and amplifying her voice. Rose Walker looked to The Corinthian. “If I’m as powerful as you say I am, then I will find my own way. In the meantime, the walls go back up.” She lifted her hand, willing the walls between the dreams to return.

A loud groaning sound echoed all around them as the mist began to overtake the room. Rose drifted back closer to Dream as everything around them changed. “What is this? What’s happening?”

Trees, gnarled and dripping with blood, surrounded them as dark figures moved in the woods, and all manner of noises surrounded them. The tree roots wound around The Corinthian’s limbs as The Nightmare tried to take a step back from the figure in white that now stood at the treeline. “Daunt.”

Dream wanted to reach out to her, to speak to her, anything, but Daunt was not herself. Her blood-covered form was no more than mist and bitter frost. Instead, Dream took hold of Rose’s arm and pulled her behind him. “At last,” Daunt said softly, but her voice sounded anything but. “You have come to see the damage caused by your hands.”

The roots of the trees began to squeeze the nightmare tightly. He groaned as his bones began to creak beneath the wood. “This is still your dream Rose.”

The figure in white turned her head, and ice crept along Dream’s form under her gaze. “No.”

Rose shivered from behind him and quickly uttered the words she’d heard him say, “This dream is over.”

“NO!” Daunt screamed, lunging forward as the dream vanished.

Standing back in the hotel, his nightmare breathed a relieved breath and stood once again as Dream looked down at his now-healed hand. His nightmare removed the dark shades that shielded the rows of teeth from view. That anger that filled him became unbearable as he looked over at the nightmare with watering eyes. “She trusted you, loved you, and you betrayed her.”

The Corinthian sneered. “You, of all people, have no right to judge me, Dream. After all, you drove her away in the first place! If you think I’m going back to The Dreaming with you-”

The floorboards beneath their feet began to tremble and crack. Mist filled the room as tall trees tore through the floors, and The Forest started to bleed into the Waking World. The Corinthian looked around him with stoic features as roots quickly began overtaking everything in the room. Standing in the crowd, Daunt breathed heavily, the veil gone, revealing her bleeding chest and wide eyes. “You do not get to leave me again, Corinthian.”

“Daunty,” the nightmare said softly. Roots twined around him as she walked up the stage and past Dream to stand in front of his rouge creation, the creation that had betrayed her.

“Have you any idea what it was like?” She demanded. “Knowing all this time that it was you that plunged the blade into my heart. That you… my friend… would doom me to this.”

For the first time, Dream could see the sorrow and pain in the nightmares eyes as he looked up at Daunt. “I’m sorry.”

A sob escaped her throat as everything in the room grew colder. “LIAR!”

The roots stabbed through The Corinthian in various places, digging deep into his body. He took it all with a sheer grit of his teeth, never looking away from Daunt as she stepped closer to him, a blade… the blade poised in her hands and pressed against The Corinthian’s chest. “Do it.” He told her. “I deserve it.”

Dream moved closer to her, ignoring the way it stung his skin. “Daunt…”

“No,” The Corinthian told him. “Do it, Daunty. Finish me.”

“Was it worth it?” She demanded, her gaze shifting to the humans that sat in the crowded room. “Was all this worth it?”

“The only thing I regret is what I did to you,” The Corinthian said carefully.

“Regret?” She questioned, deathly quiet. “You do not know regret… not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

“Daunt,” Dream called out, hoping to pull her from the darkness that echoed in her words.

The blade flashed in the dim light as she drove it through The Corinthians ribs, twisting it as she knelt down, leaning her head closer to the nightmare and listening to his pained noises. “Look into my eyes, betrayer. Look and see what you wrought.”

He seemed to shake the longer he met Daunt’s gaze, the stoic features of his face twisting into pain and sorrow. The trees closest to her caught fire, and the sounds of fear and screaming. “Daunt…”

“You did this!” She screamed, tearing the blade from his ribs and stabbing him again.

The Corinthian bowed his head, pulling the blade from his flesh and holding it out to her. “Please.”

A sharp and pained scream echoed around Dream as Daunt fell back slightly, holding her chest as the wound began to bleed once more. She sobbed quietly, holding her hands to blood and crying as she looked to The Corinthian. “I trusted you…”

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispered. “I didn’t…”

Daunt wept, “I cannot kill you, dear Corinthian. No matter how much you deserve it. Our fates are sealed, yours and mine.”

The Corinthian’s lips quivered as he looked back up at Dream. “Finish it, Dream.”

His voice was low, nearly hoarse, as he spoke, “I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“I do it to taste what it’s like to be human.” The Corinthian admitted. “You don’t care about humanity, none of them. You can’t even bring yourself to care about her. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.”

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or you might actually feel something. I am not the problem, Dream.”

With a look to Daunt, whose form slowly began to be overtaken with frost, he replied, “You are right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

The sand swirled, glowing red as it ate away at his masterpiece. Daunt lifted her hand to his cheek, and he looked down at her as the last remnants of him faded. The Corinthian smiled at her, a soft smile, one he’d never known the nightmare to show before now. “Yours is the last face I will see.”

Daunt held the tiny skull of his nightmare in her bloodstained hand, standing slowly and turning to face him. More blood streamed down her cheeks as she cried tears of red. She placed the skull in his hand, and she whispered before he could even utter a word. “Find us, Dream. Please.”

And just as suddenly as she’d appeared, Daunt was gone again from his sight. His hand curled around the skull as he turned to the crowd of his creation’s flawed inspiration and shook his head. “And you… who call yourselves collectors, until now you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims, comforting daydreams in which you are always right. But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgment upon you, that you shall know from this moment on exactly how craven and selfish and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. And the grief of those that mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time.”

They all rose from their seats and walked, dazed, out of the room. Dream looked around him at the lack of trees, mist, and all Daunt had brought with her. He closed his eyes and silently swore he would find her.

Rose Walker was not only the vortex but the child with the blood of an Endless. A child born of his sibling’s games. As soon as Dream had laid eyes on the dark heart she’d pulled from her chest and given to Unity Kincaid, he knew it. With a swiftness powered by his rage alone, Dream entered his gallery and grabbed the heart on the wall. “Desire. I stand in my gallery, and I hold your sigil. Talk to me.”

The faint image of his sibling’s wide red grin shinned from within the stone. “Why, sweet Dream. This is a surprise. Almost an event, I might say.”

“Good. I’m coming through,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“You are?” They questioned, a slight pitch of fear entering their voice before they chuckled. “But of course. You know you’re always welcome in my chambers.”

The glossy red of Desire’s realm was hideous. He’d forgotten how much he detested the vivid color and how pungent the sickeningly sweet smell of summer peaches was. Dream took slow, deliberate steps closer to his sibling, who lounged in a chair in their gallery. “Lovely to see you,” they purred. “Can I get you anything you desire?”

“I desire nothing from you save some answers,” he replied tensely.

“Ooh, is this a test?”

“Unity Kincaid should’ve been the vortex of this era. But someone took advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex, and I would be forced to kill it.”

Desire’s smile widened. “Was I really that obvious?”

“No,” Dream answered, circling them. “You covered your tracks remarkably well.”

“Well, that’s high praise coming from you.”

“What did you truly intend? That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”

They laughed. “This time, it almost worked.”

It was no secret that he and Desire loathed one another, but Dream hadn’t thought they would stoop to such drastic whims to see him dead. With a scoff, he shook his head. “My sibling, we of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.” Standing behind them now, his voice lowered, threatening and dark. “And you and Despair, and even poor Deliruim would do well to remember that.” He pulled their head back by their light hair and looked deep into the golden eyes that now flared with anger and fear. “Mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. Do you believe yourself strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”

“No,” they said in a trembling tone.

“Remember that next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs,” he whispered to them as his eyes trailed away from their golden irises to the red bitemarks that marred their hand. His hands tightened in their hair. “Where did you get those marks?”

“Is it not obvious, big brother?” They sneered with a smile. “Our lovely Mistake sends her regards.”

“What have you done with her?”

Desire’s smile widened. “So predictable, big brother.”

Anger laced deep into his voice. “What did you do?”

“I merely gave her what she always wanted.” Their golden eyes flared. “An end to her pitiful excuse of an existence.”

“You would dare to raise a hand against her?”

Desire scoffed. “She is no Endless. She is a Mistake. One that refused to see reason.”

“Where is she?”

“Right where I left her,” they answered. “In that pathetic little forest of hers with that stupid mutt.”

“How did you find it?”

Desire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, you still haven’t been to see her? How sad. From what I hear, she doesn’t have much time left.”

Dream released their hair, practically throwing them forward as he turned and strode back down the hall he’d arrived in. “If Daunt dies, I will be back for your head.”

“Give her my best,” they called after him. “She looked rather ill when I last saw her.”

Daunt was alive, he reminded himself. She was alive, and he would find her. He would not lose her again.

It had been weeks since he’d finished his business with the Vortex and Desire. Months and still, there had been nothing to help him find her. He scoured every book and dream, desperately searching every corner he could reach for her to no avail. The ember of hope he’d held all this time slowly began to dwindle as the days passed… as he grew closer and closer to facing the horrible reality that he’d failed her.

Matthew had followed him to Fiddler’s Green, as the bird was known to do now that he was no longer shadowing Rose Walker, making comments on his incredibly sullen behavior, but Dream didn’t care enough to answer him. Instead, as he stood among the green fields and the flowers and the memories of their moonlit dances and conversations, Dream cared about nothing else but her. He wanted to see her again, to hold her in his arms and to beg for her forgiveness… to tell her, the real her, that he loved her and that he had for quite some time.

He stared out at the peaceful meadow for a moment longer before turning to leave. There was nothing for him here. Or was there? He halted almost instantly at the sight of white standing in the trees in front of him. The white stag stood between two large trees, watching Dream. Matthew looked over to where his master was staring and quietly asked, “What’s that thing?”

“A creature I thought had long abandoned this realm,” Dream answered as the stag turned away and began walking into the forest. Something inside him forced his feet to move, to follow the creature into the dark woods.

“Oh! So we’re following the weird lookin thing?” Matthew cawed loudly, taking to the sky to fly after them.

The trees grew closer and closer together, and darkness began to make it difficult to follow the creature forward. Mist rolled over Dream’s boots, and a chill seared his skin, forcing him to halt. This was not Fiddlers Green. This was nothing of his realm. “The Forest.”

A few steps ahead of him, the stag looked back and huffed, its breath visible in the frozen air, before it continued forward, stepping over the gnarled roots. Dream moved, too, a newfound desperation in his steps as they emerged from the thick trees into a small glen of frozen moss. Death and blood hung in the air all around them. The hollow resembled that which he’d seen in the short dream Daunt had influenced.

The stag took a half-step forward, a small frozen twig snapping beneath one of its hoofs. The sound echoed far louder than it should have, filling the silence with it. A heartbeat passed before a black shadow lunged out of the trees and dug its claws into the stag’s back, clawing and biting until the poor creature collapsed and its blood coated the white ground. Dream stood perfectly still as the beast tore into the stag’s flesh and devoured the steaming meat.

“Holy shit,” Matthew breathed from a branch beside Dream. The beast’s head turned, revealing two grey eyes locking onto Dream. It turned, claws clutching the stag’s body tightly, and let out a loud screech. Blood and spit coated its sharp teeth as its foul breath wafted to Dream’s nose.

The beast gave little to no warning before it pounced, claws tearing out of the carcass and slicing through the air as it made its way toward him, ready and willing to take the killing blow. White shot out through the forest, slamming into the black creature and forcing it onto the other side of the clearing. Growls and barks echoed through the trees before suddenly all grew silent. Matthew flew down from his perch, hopping toward the stag cautiously. “Where the fuck are we?”

Before Dream could answer the birds’ quiet question, the white blur returned. It leaped from nowhere and pinned Matthew to the snowy ground by a wing. The bloodstained teeth of the white wolf, marred with scars both old and new, chomped as he raised his head to look up at Dream. One eye was blue, crystal, and starry, while the other was faded gray and scarred. “What manner of demon are you?”

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igotanidea · 2 years

Text

Breaking point : Matt Murdock x f!reader

A/N: so in my work I deal with a hell lot of dirty cases. This story was loosely inspired by one of them.

Domestic violence is probably the worst silent crime, since in a hell lot of times it leaves no traces. Victims are ashamed of it, scared to report it and it usually ends up ugly. So, remember, do not hope for it to get better, do not make excuses and try to justify the perpetrator. React. Act if you see violence. You may literally save someone's life.

Warning: anxiety, domestic violence,

When Matt was out of town I was usually spending time at my parents’ place. It was a good way to mix the obligation of daughter’s visit and a nice way to not miss him so much. Being in an empty apartment always gave me thoughts. Sometimes they were crazy, so, you know, it was better not to be alone.

So when he had to go to the other side of the country, dealing with the case with Jennifer Walters, the freaking she-hulk I grabbed some of my stuff and after a quick but sweet goodbye left to my parent’s house for a weekend getaway.

It was good at the begging, but the hell was soon to be brought to earth.

Let me just say, I had a really stressful week, like really stressful and when I’m under heavy pressure my anxiety kicks in and I can’t really talk. And besides, I was exhausted. So, when I woke up at 9 a.m., which was later than my usual, I felt the urge to stay in bed. Not like I’m lazy and I don’t want to get up just yet, but more like I can’t force myself to move or even I’m scared to move. Fuck! Should have listened. Instead I tried my best to water that feeling down, standing up and moving on with the day. Finally, after some traditional Saturday clean-up and some workout that made me feel slightly better, I believed myself strong enough to get downstairs, hoping for someone to just talk to. My dad was busy with his stuff but since my mum was in the kitchen I asked my classis good-willed question (even though I already knew the answer).

“Do you need help with something?”

“The whole house needs to be cleaned, since no one did it yesterday. The toilets are all dirty and dusty, so you can go pick some gloves and start the work. I don’t really understand how this place can get so messy all the time. And there are only adults, here. God, I have to do everything by myself, no one’s ever helping.” Right, come at me with the commands thrown with the speed of machine gun. Just what my anxiety screams for. Besides, we were standing in the middle of clean kitchen and my sister and I were taking turns in visiting parents and helping them at home and in the garden and with all the paperwork stuff they needed. So, was it fair to say no one was ever helping.

“Right…” I muttered sipping on my tea. “because the life is all about having clean house” of course I was not a slob and eventually I was going to vacuum, but come on, her attitude was influencing everyone and lately, barely anyone has been talking to anyone in this house. But hey, at least it was tidy.

“What did you say?” she turned her gaze on me. Oh, shit. “Do you see yourself? In your age you look like a scruff, this sweater….” She wrenched the hem of my clothes “in your age…. That’s unbelievable!” she was just getting started. Abort! My brain screamed at me and knowing how this can go I retrieved upstairs. Sadly, it did not stop her from following me to my old room.

“What is that?” she started moving around “do you see that blanket. All dirty. And this…” she pointed towards the carpet “I would be ashamed to live in a piggery like this. Oh, and how about that psychologist that you have your session with? I’m going to get her number , call her, invite her in and show her around this mess . Then she’ll see who you really are” she hissed at my face and left. I did not engage just watching her carefully, at this point still calm, with a pinch of disbelief. What was happening? I offered her a hand and now she was ranting about everything.

“you know I think life is not only about…..” I started

“What do you know about life?!” she yelled ”you have no life! You are worthless, pathetic, grubby person.”

“And what do you know about life?!” now I had enough.

“Are you trying to preach me!?! You?! I am you mother!” she abruptly walked to me and I get back to my room, sitting on the bed to calm down a little. It did not stop her, as she started walking around the house muttering to herself. Well, muttering would be nice, but she was legitimately trash-talking me.

“Ungrateful piece of shit. She thinks she can talk back to me like this. It would be so much better for me without her. Who the hell does she thinks she it? That worthless fake of a …….”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” I am ashamed to admit I finally broke, screaming my lungs out at her. All the childhood and teenage memories flashing thought my eyes. All those time I was forced to be obedient with every method possible. All those times, she hit me, scratched me or attacked me mentally aiming at everything I worked for so hard. All the times, when I had to be perfect, quiet and cover up for all the shit happening at home. Every single time I needed to earn the attention or a scrap of time for her, since she was always busy with work. “I AM SO DONE WITH YOU TREATING ME LIKE THIS!’I was not thinking straight in my blind rage. Oh, boy….

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” she was now possessing the fury of a raging animal and out of instinct I grabbed her throat.

“How do you like that, huh? Isn’t that what you used to do to me for so many years?!” yeah, I still had some scars on my neck from the time she was choking me and putting pressure with her nails. She let out a single scream and as I realized what I was doing I let go (even if it wasn’t even half as hard as her shriek indicated) and that gave her leverage as she throw me onto the coach, pushing my face down and pressing on my throat harshly.

“You’re out the house. You have five hours to get out! The clock is ticking! You…..” she panted and left, closing the door loudly. I barely had time to swallow all the tears and grab my hurt neck when she was back.

“Oh, and just so you know. I’m going to call the police. And your job. I’m going to show them everything you just did and tell them you are a criminal. You are done. You have nothing! Five hours! I don't care if you'll end up killed z raped or eviscerated!"

I was shocked. My whole body, especially legs were trembling so hard it was impossible to stand up. At this point she was capable of everything and my heart was beating frantically at the thought of her accusing me of being a perpetrator and a source of domestic violence. I literally felt my stomach drop, feeling cold and shivering at the same time with suffocating from the heat. My head was killing me, I felt dizzy and utterly terrified. What do I do? Oh, God, what do I do? Do I run? Do I stay? Do I call someone? But she will find me everywhere… Please, no. And what if she’s really going to make a call at the police station……

With all the thoughts spinning in my mind, now I understood why the casualties are always covered with the blanket. I felt sick…..Even the grounding technique I learned during my therapy was for nothing. She threatened me and treated me coldly and harshly all my life and yet I was feeling guilty.

“Ok, Y/N….. Calm down….. Calm down….. Deep breaths. …. Think…..” I told myself.

After some time that felt like an hour, but was in fact just a couple of minutes, the brain fog dispersed and I felt the urge to group chat with Matt and my sister. With a huge prick of conscience because I knew they were both busy, but there was no one else I could ask for advice of what to do. I wasn’t thinking straight and desperately needed a look from the outside this hell. I took one deep breath more and gathering my composure dialed their numbers.

“Hello?” my sister cheerful voice resonated on the other side of the line.

“Y/N?” Matt asked with almost the same amount of joy

And this did the job. My composure felt apart like a house of cards, since upon hearing them I just stared sobbing uncontrollably, not able to say a word, tears falling down like crazy.

“Oh my god” my sister whispered “Calm down.”

I sobbed even more, but a bit more quiet. Thank god, she knew exactly what to do. When I got like this (well, this was the first time with such intensity and I was sure she was terrified to hear me completely out of control), the best way was to talk to me calmly, telling me what to do. Not a command, just a way to hold on to reality.

“Just calm down” she repeated “sit down. Breathe. Just breathe”

“Ok….okey….” I panted

“Good. Breathe. Take a tissue and clean your nose.”

“Yeah, that.. that may be hard….” I hiccupped, now with a bit of humor hidden in the voice.

“What happened?” Matt asked calmly, but clearly disturbed. The daredevil was at this point surely awake and I was glad he was strong enough to control his alter ego and not overtake the conversation letting my sister lead the way. He knew better than to interrupt us.

“We…. We had a fight…..”

“Which one?” my sister asked simply

“there;s only one of them that can make me like this….”

“Ok, so it was mum, surely. Walk me through it.”

And so I started talking, briefing the case, as Matt would put it., both of them listening carefully. When I got to the point where I attacked my sister chuckled a bit.

“You did what?” I felt her smile through the fun “Wow! That is just WOW! I’m shocked!” was it just me or did she sound impressed? Since I was always a victim, beaten and humiliated maybe she was awestruck.

“Positively or negatively?”

“Don’t know yet… Just shocked.”

“I feel so guilty about it….” I hiccupped again

“Baby…” Matt soothing voice took over “you are a victim not a perpetrator, you hear me?”

“I do….”

“Listen, to me carefully, I am going to pick you up as soon as I can, all right? Don’t go anywhere…..”

“I am not able to go the garden in this state, let alone anywhere else…..” oh, those damn tears made my voice shake

“There’s some tranquilizing syrup in my old room if you need some…” my sister pointed out, alerted by my state.

“No, I….. I don’t think I need that….. But,….. what if she’s really going to do that? Call the police and ……”

“Of course, she’s not.” my sis said firmly “breathe. It’s all just talk, all right? Don’t worry about it….”

“How can I not worry about it…..” I wiped my eyes with the sleeves, feeling like a child and desperately needed someone to hold me.

“Baby…. Just stay calm. I;m already on my way .

“But I thought you were working……”

“Not anymore. I’m coming.” He repeated “No one is going to hurt you, I promise. I won’t let anyone harm you. You hear me?”

“Thank you. And I;m so sorry to both of you.”

“Are you crazy?! What are you sorry for?!” my sister exclaimed in-style and I smirked unwillingly. Her attitude was helpful

“Y/N…..” Matt sighed “how many times do I have to assure you, you mustcall me when you need me. I am here, anytime.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna hung up now, but call me again if something happens, all right?”

“Thanks again, sis.”

“Talk to you soon.” The line on her side disconnected and now I was left with Matt on the phone.

“Matty….. I…. I think I need to catch a breath now. I’ll talk to you when you get here?”

“Are you sure? I can stay connected….”

“I’ll be fine for now. It’s just… a lot….”

“Ok, sweetheart. Lay down, get some rest, I bet the emotions are high.”

“Speaking as the human or the devil?”

“Both. You know, lawyers deal with different cases.”

“Sometimes I forget about your day job. See you soon?”

“Yes. Now, close the door and rest.”

So I did. The second I hung up, the shivers came at me again and I had to wear additional sweater to avoid freezing. When the softness and warmth surrounded me I slowly started to drift off.

***

I sprung out of bed screaming, eyes wide open, breath expedited, sweat dripping down my forehead. I had no idea where I was and how the hell I ended up in my pajama instead of jeans and jumper.

“Y/N. Hey, it’s all right. You’re safe. “ it took deep, calming voice and a pair of strong arms sneaking around me to start thinking clearly again.

“Matty….” I turned towards him, diving into his arms, grateful that my knight in shining armor came for rescue, however cliché that sounded.

“I’m here….” He whispered holding me tighter to his chest, stroking my hair softly and leaning back so we were laying on the bed again.

“I…..”

“You don’t need to say anything” he assured “we’ll deal with it all later. You’ve just been though a traumatic event, let it all out. Don’t hold it.”

And then the tears started falling again. I felt the unfairness of everything that happened, the cruelty hit me hard and I could not understand why and how someone (my mother) could be so vicious. Matt said nothing for all the time I was shaking next to him, just keep holding me, providing me with little head kisses, warmth and sense of security.

“Can you stay with me like this?” I asked hiding my face in his chest

“I’m not going anywhere. “ he assured “Just need you to promise me something”

“What?”

“You won’t ever go there again. At least not without me…”

“I promise. It didn’t felt like home there anyway. I think my home is somewhere else.”

“Really” he chucked caressing my back soothingly “and where is that?”

“With you” I muttered “You are my home…”

“And you are mine Y/N” Matt kissed my temple “I love you. Rest now. And I am not leaving this like that.”

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