#trees that stabilize the island…gone

[ziparumpazoo]

If you’re thinking of lighting off fireworks this holiday weekend…maybe don’t?

[girlscience]

alien be upon ye

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 3

Danny would guess they'd gone about 20 miles by the time he'd stopped. They were well within Siren Territory by then, not that that was any comfort, considering the source of most of the trouble in the last six months, but distance was distance. Thankfully, none of his usual enemies bothered to rear their heads, likely licking their wounds from their last encounters.

In a tiny cave blocked off by kelp and coral, Danny leaned back against a wall and caught his breath. Damian had been silent for most of the swim, which was a small blessing. It let Danny think; think about what happens next. The tiny siren loosened himself from Danny's arms, and did a few cursory flaps of his fins.

"Where have you been taking me?" Damian mumbled.

"Around. Can't exactly double back to Amity right now." He hoped Bruce Wayne was an accepting man. He'd adopted kids from all manner of backrounds, but that didn''t help the same nagging uncertainty that plagued him whenever he thought about his own parents. If he'd just doomed Damian to a life without his father, he didn't know if he could live with himself.

Damian floated to the other side of the cave, his eyes on Danny the whole time, arms crossed in a scowling expression.

"And then?"

"I don't know. I give you back to your dad? I wasn't exactly planning out every step earlier."

"Then what were you thinking?" Damian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Do you suggest I return to the public, to school looking like this? I can hardly breathe over water, let alone walk."

"I don't know! I just..." Danny poked his finger webbing. "I've been doing this for six months. And the whole time, even if it was hard and painful, I never lost someone. No one ever, well." Danny swallowed thickly.

Damian huffed. "You are a poor excuse of a hero."

"I failed you, there's no denying it. I was too late, and I let you drown. I'm sorry. There was no other way, I swear."

Danny looked up to Damian again, but the smaller boy looked away, his expression unreadable. "Take me back."

Yeah, that wasp probably the best he could do for Damian now. Bruce Wayne was probably having the mother of all freakouts, and if Damian never wanted to see Danny again, then that was fine. He was sure the world's richest man would be able to accommodate Damian's needs just fine. Rich people were weird like that.

It took some begrudging glares, but Damian at least allowed Danny to take his hand and use his much better swimming skills, but Damian didn't look very happy about it. Then again, today was probably the worst day in the kid's life.

They were approaching the island at rapid pace, its lustrous palm trees swaying in the distance, a promise of stability, and safety at last.

Motors hummed in the water. Danny's blood froze. Immediately he submerged and ducked near the sea floor.

"What is this delay for? Let me see." Damian pushed against Danny's hand, but the older boy kept firm.

"Patrol boats. Dozens of them. And they're all on high alert. And they've got Fenton tech. Shit."

"Can't you swim past them?"

Danny sputtered. What was this kid thinking? He wasn't some god of the sea! "I can't fight thirty boats by myself! They're gonna skewer us both!"

"What about your camouflage?"

"That would've worked a couple months ago, but these guys have got Fenton Sonars."

Damian did a double take. "The Fentons? You mean the town crackpots?"

Ouch, his parents were a little obsessed, but they definitely weren't crazy. Not anymore. "The town siren hunters. And yeah maybe Jack's not great at hunting, but their inventions work. I've got a scar or two to prove it."

"My father is on that island." Damian growled. "You have to do something."

"But it's not your dad on those boats, is it?" Danny furrowed his brow. "Those guys don't see you as human, or even sentient. They think you're another monster to be studied."

"No thanks to you." Damian challenged.

Danny growled back. "I was saving you! And now you wanna be un-saved?"

They glared into each other's eyes. Danny should really feel bad about squaring up to this literal child, but man was he difficult not to get annoyed at. Deep breaths, Danny, deep breaths. This was going to be more difficult than he imagined.

Damian glared at Phantom, the supposed siren superhero of Amity Park. He wanted to scream, to yell and to cut something open, preferably Phantom, if he weren't his only ticket home, and if only he had his weapons on him.

Such a loss of composure would be beneath him, so he remained stubbornly defiant.

As much as he wished for it not to be the case, Phantom was in all likelihood correct. This horrid, horrid body was new to him. Dozens, no, hundreds of foreign sensations flared from every part of his person, each impulse sending his body wobbling in new, unexpected directions. He would never get through the blockade on his own, which killed half of his initial plans. These blasted sonars killed the other half.

Damian grit his teeth. "Fine." He said, despite the embarrassment welling up at having to admit defeat. "But this conversation is not over."

"I bet." Phantom said, the infuriating cur.

By Damian's estimates, it should have been around midnight when Phantom stopped. They took refuge underneath a larger cave, filled with sparse furniture, a rug and some tables, with dark green curtains over the entrance. Small glowing jellyfish provided faint light. It seemed like the hopelessly domestic scene Jonathan would enjoy.

Damian slithered (He didn't crawl or shuffle. He was too dignified) into the corner of the cave, where he assumed a defensive position and poured all his seething hatred into glaring at Phantom.

"Welcome to Casa de Phantom! Or at least one of them. I've got a couple hideouts here and there. I'd say 'make yourself at home,' but I guess you beat me to the punch." Phantom said with a laugh. How dare he!

Damian hissed. "Tt. I am taking advantage of the opportunity for respite while taking necessary precaution against a rogue element."

"A rogue element? I don't know if you're serious or just pulling my tailfin."

"Do not test me, Phantom."

"Right. Look, I'm gonna go get us some food, so just stay put or something or other. I won't be long and then we can talk about where we go next. Oh, and don't touch anything!"

Damian growled at him again for good measure. Phantom exited the cave in short order, leaving Damian with ample opportunity for investigation. He wouldn't be a Robin if he didn't seize this opportunity.

Damian uncoiled himself and pulled his body along the soft sand. The grains tickled and pricked at his scales. The tables held a number of different gadgets and tools. Human clothes like t-shirts, a few vests and belts were scattered around. The bench held various strange devices, like a glowing blue lipstick, and a thermos of all things. Damian knocked on the thermos, the clanging sound confirming it was hollow. The most incriminating detail of all, however, was the distinctive F logo branded onto the side of each and every device.

How does a siren with no legs acquire so many inventions from siren hunters? He supposes they really are better siren hunting inventors than proper fighters. It was a miracle Jack Fenton hadn't drowned by now, considering how he conducted himself in a fight.

The thermos was lightweight, its metal settling gently against his webbed hands. Videos of Phantom's exploits have been scarce, and grainy, showing very few useable details. Various buttons and lights adorned the thermos, showing it was no ordinary soup holder.

Damian popped the cap off. The thermos' interior contained a circular mechanism of some kind. "What in the world?" Surely this could not be a weapon. The cylindrical design and lack of handholds would have made it too unwieldy. The kickback from any shot would throw off the wielder's aim every time. As Damian peered and tried to get a closer look, his finger slipped on one of the buttons. Blast.

The thermos whined. Its interior glowed blindingly bright. Before Damian could react, a blue beam engulfed his body. Damian felt his body warp and compress into a tiny space, before his vision went dark.

Damian awoke, vision blurry and head pounding. Phantom's smug face floated above him.

"And that's why I told you not to touch anything."

Damian shook off the grogginess and sat up, almost colliding with Phantom's face. "What manner of trap was that? Were you attempting to disfigure me once again for your sick pleasure?! En garde!"

Damian was no good swimmer in this form, but it was easy to launch himself off the floor and into Phantom. Phantom, for his part, didn't sit idly like the last time. He raised his arm and blocked off Damian's access to his neck, a shame, but that did not stop Damian sinking his teeth into Phantom's flesh.

That is, if he could actually penetrate his skin.

Damian blinked in shock. Sirens were supposed to have razor sharp teeth. He'd seen those fangs in Phantom's own mouth. He should be drawing blood right now, but as he was he was barely denting Phantom's scales.

Phantom laughed, as if it just tickled. "Dude, I literally let you out of the thermos. It's not a 'trAP to diSFiguRe yOu fOR mY sIcK PleaSuRe,' it's just a containment device for sirens. Also can you stop that please, it tickles."

Damian flung himself off of Phantom's arm, retreating back into his corner. "How have I not drawn blood?! This is madness!" Damian sucked in breaths through his gills, an endlessly foreign and vulnerating sensation. "The only useful thing about this body was supposed to be its natural offensive capabilities, yet it is unable to achieve even that!"

"Siren kids just have blunter claws and teeth. Youngblood's the same."

"Do not call me a child!"

"Your claws will grow in over time, it's just the nature of things."

"You say that as if you will not return me to my true human form."

Phantom shifted uncomfortably.

Damian pressed. "Well?"

"Yeah about that..."

"Do not tell me you have no way to reverse it!"

Phantom's look of guilt sealed it. Damian's heart sank. Goodbye Robin, goodbye previous life. All his hard work and sacrifice for naught. Phantom had saved him from death by drowning, but suddenly Damian felt as if he were better off dead anyway.

Tears built up. What was happening to him? He hadn't cried since he was five years old, a show of weakness that grandfather had beaten out of him. Then again, he was really one year old back then, artificially grown to a competent age.

"H-hey, d-don't cry or anything, I was just-"

"I am not crying!" Damian shouted. He turned away from Phantom and stuffed his face into his tail, praying somehow the tears would go away on their own. He was Damian Wayne, son of Batman and daughter of Talia Al Ghul, there was no such thing as crying for him, none at all. There had been nothing, absolutely nothing he had been unable to overcome. He was going to overcome this, no matter what. These things he knew.

Why had this feeling not abated?

There had to be a solution, there just had to be. There had to be some kind of surgery that could split his tail into legs again. No that was absurd, what kind of quack surgeon can completely alter someone's species? Perhaps magic instead? Normally he hated the involvement of magic, but if it was the only way. Perhaps Zatara could assist, or he could pawn something off to that Constantine. But nothing ever good happened from associating with that man. Or maybe Aquaman would have a solution, someone well versed in oceanic magic, except Aquaman's claim of being king of the ocean was doubtful considering the siren attacks that lead him and Father to this forsaken resort town in the first place. What if... What if....

Damian felt lightheaded.

A weight pressed on Damian's body. Warm scales against his own, their individual texture segmented, but smooth, like a kind of weighted blanket. A hand laid on his shoulder. Damian remembered where he was, remembered to perform the mental exercises Father had taught him.

Slowly, his breathing evened out. His fins steadied into a gentle lull. Damian's eyelids felt heavy. His chest vibrated in a strange rhythm he couldn't place...

Suddenly the weight disappeared, and Damian blinked himself awake. Phantom retreated a sociable distance away, looking sheepish.

"Sorry, about touching you without your consent, I just saw you were hyperventilating, and I remembered a few classes about this stuff, and I watched that film too, Puss in Boots 2, it was great and-"

"Do sirens watch human media often?" Damian said. He gripped his tail, something solid to keep him anchored.

Phantom seemed to freeze for a moment. "Uhm well, maybe they do! just because we're sirens doesn't mean we're uncultured!"

Damian would have loved to pick this information apart, scan it for weaknesses until he knew this person in and out, but at this moment, he simply sat and let it settle underneath the shame of expressing similar, or even more weakness.

"Speak of this to anyone, and I will have your head."

"Yeah that would be a dick move, so if I ever did that, feel free to take it."

[five-rivers]

Death is a personal thing.  

To be sure, everyone dies eventually, and, in that, if nothing else, they are equal.  But no two people know death the same way.  No two people are touched by death the same way.  No two people see death in the same way.  No two people are taken by death in the same way.  

And no one may know another’s death.  Not beyond a glimpse through a window at night, not beyond a tale of a country undiscovered.  

That country of death was much the same. 

The Ghost Zone.  The Spirit World.  The Infinite Realms.  

Many names.  Many faces.  Many forms.  

It was personal.  

.

Vlad Masters knew what the Ghost Zone looked like.  He had worked with Jack and Maddie to extrapolate its composition and appearance long before they’d even gotten the proto-portal running from the tiny samples of ectoplasm they’d been able to synthesize.  

Once they had… Well.  Even the small uncertainty he’d had before was gone.  The Ghost Zone was green and pulsating pain, ooze and rot, twisted abominations and power.  

He could feel it inside him, even in the hospital, even dying from ecto-acne.  He knew.  He knew.  

And his knowledge was vindicated the first time he stepped through a portal.  

.

Danny grew up hearing stories about ghosts, even if he didn’t believe in them.  Stories about how evil they were, generally, but also about what the Ghost Zone was supposed to be like.  Vast voids.  Glowing ectoplasm.  Islands of stability.  

It shaped him.  But it wasn’t the only thing that did that.  

(He remembered, distantly, Grandpa Fenton saying that he was going on one, last, long journey…)

He stood in front of the empty porta, smiling.  “You’re right.  Who knows what kind of awesome, super-cool things exist on the other side of that portal?”

Danny didn’t know.  But he imagined.  He imagined a journey of a lifetime, of a death, of an eternity.  

The light that killed him and saved him was green, but it was followed by diamond-studded black.  

His first journey into the Ghost Zone showed him a world of wonder.  Eternal night stretched as far as the eye could see, strewn with luminescent islands - each a wandering star, populated by strange trees, strange fruits, strange beings, strange technology, all glowing in the dark.  

.

For Sam, the Ghost Zone was a vast wilderness full of extinct and endangered creatures.  All those things Sam cared so much about saving.  All the things humanity had failed to save.  All the things humanity had driven into the dark.  

Not only a wilderness - a hungry, grasping wilderness.  Beautiful, but deadly and eager to take.  

It was about her activism.  Her passions.  Her understanding of killing.  

(It was really about Danny.)

(About losing him.)

(About dooming him.)

(About killing him.)

(Making him a member of a not-quite-species with only three members.)

But she could find her place here, too.  She knew.  The jungles, the deserts, the mountains, the tundra.  The creeping vines, the snarling beasts, the towering trees.  There was a place here for her.

.

The Ghost Zone was dead, and to Tucker Foley dead meant two things.  Broken tech and hospitals.  

His version of the Ghost Zone had both.  Great landfills and huge, almost industrial buildings that seemed to ooze illness and injury in an apocalyptic landscape.  There was rust and gray in the sky, streaked with mossy, algae-like green.  Verdigris.  Even gold oxidized and crumbled.  

The thing was, junk could be repurposed.  Broken things could be fixed, or scavenged for parts.  Brought back to life, as it were.  

He just had to avoid the hospitals, and everything would be fine.  

.

First and foremost, Jazz’s view of the Ghost Zone and ghosts in general was colored by the general concept of ‘her brother, the superhero.’

This was the world beyond the portal for her.  One where death wasn't, and she still didn't have to see.

.

Valerie hated the Ghost World and everything in it.  It was a bottomless pit that did nothing but take and take and take.  

… It did seem a little different, though, after the first time she'd actually worked with Phantom.  There seemed to be other changes after her second suit.  The whole place just felt more inviting.  

But surely that was all in her head. 

.

And Jack and Maddie?  Well.  They already knew everything there was to know about ghosts… and they knew they weren’t ‘souls of the dead’ or any such nonsense.  They were simply monsters from another dimension!  One made of ectoplasm and energy!  A green world!  An exciting world!

A hostile world.  

One that would do anything it could to lie to them, to trick them, to kill them.  Just like the ghosts that inhabited it.  

That's why they needed the Specter Speeder and all their other protective gear.  

That's why they needed protective gear, unlike, say, Sam, who could walk through her wilderness unharmed, so long as she kept an eye out for prehistoric megafauna, or Tucker, who'd had to get his tetanus shot renewed after a nasty fall into a junk pile that first week.  The Ghost Zone would destroy them, just like they tried to destroy it.  

That was just what death was like, after all.  

[scottatkinson]

Trying to Stay Afloat

We drift through the clear open waters of Georgian Bay in our red canoe. Not a care in the world. Smiles on our faces, stomachs full, and a full day of paddling and exploring ahead of my family and me. The first two days had gone by like a breeze. We paddled for 5 or 6 hours total, sunny clear skies, and lots of tasty snacks along the way. Always finishing off with hot chocolate once we got set up at camp. Today seemed to follow the same suit; we got up at the crack of dawn, got some oats and coffee in us, and packed up for the day ahead. The temperature was about 25 degrees Celsius and the sun was tickling our skin once again so we made sure to layer up with sunscreen.

We traversed the Georgian bay in about an hour hiding the edges with small rock islands habiting frail trees and lots of chirping birds. As we approach our turn down into the river running out of the bay, we see a black sign with a picture of a rock with fast-flowing water. We know what this means; our first set of rapids that we must tackle. My uncle and my Dad being the most experienced paddlers decide to go up and take a look at what to expect, as the water levels change frequently with the seasons. It's mid-June so almost all of the snow has melted months before and the water level is moderate to high. In April or May, this would be an almost impossible task to get through with the dangerous water levels. Most likely resulting in a portage, where we take off the packs out of the canoe and carry everything around the rapids on my foot. 

My dad and uncle work their way back to us with a smile on their faces. 

“Nothing you guys can’t handle up there. We’ll just need to avoid a couple of sticky spots and everything will be fine.” Says my dad.

At this point, we have no reason to doubt him so we throw our life jackets on and get ready to go. As we slowly approach the head of the rapids I see two massive boulders on each side with lots of white water crashing over top of each one. 

We gently tip the head of our canoe into the flying water and get grabbed and thrown into the stream like a walkway at the airport. Immediately I feel like i’d lost my training wheels and my sense of control over the canoe.

“VEAR LEFT!! LEFT!!” My brother screams from a foot behind me.

I quickly do draw strokes on the left side of the boat pulling us a couple of feet over and narrowly missing a sharp rock.

“LET'S HEAD RIGHT!! QUICK!” My brother directs me.

The left side is now home to a field of boulders in shallow water ready to pierce the bottom of our boat.

I draw as hard as I can to the right but the back of the boat fishtails behind us. It slams into a boulder sending a wave of bone-chilling water into our boat. I dig my paddle into the bottom of the river in an attempt to stabilize our boat from tipping, but to no avail. 

“WE HAVE TO LEAN !” I cry out desperately.

Our efforts are too late as the canoe does a full 180, ejecting us and our belonging into the river. My body is shocked at the frigid temperature of the water but I come to my sense and put my feet out in front of me. This way the rocks will hit our feet and we can gently push off as we float down to the bottom of the river. Our packs are spread out across the river at the bottom as we pass the final stretch of rapids. I look over my right shoulder and see a pie sized hole in the bottom of our canoe.

First picture : A beautiful painting by Nancy Yanaky which depicts a section of rapids in the french river, on her trips to the Georgian Bay. https://www.kingstonglassstudio.com/products/orchards-2

Second picture : A map of Georgian Bay. On our trip we traversed the open water and exited at the French River in the top corner of the map. https://www.redbubble.com/i/photographic-print/Map-of-Georgian-Bay-and-Lake-Huron-by-QBFCanada/51429189.6Q0TX

Third picture : Picture used in “Guide to Rapid Classification.” Posted by Mikaela

https://www.voyageurtripper.com/whitewater-rapid-classification/

[butter--peanut]

Idk if you're still taking asks, but Sakura's pov of her talk with Obito when he was in jail would be great.

Kamui Blues prompt request #11 (previous requests), Sakura and Obito have a chat. 775 words, G rated.

(prompts now closed btw; life & work currently eating into my writing time, but I'll make my way slowly through the ones I have!)

“Obito,” Sakura said from the outside of the cell bars. 

She was nervous — she was always uncomfortable around him, and it was no different when he was blind and in prison. But she’d wanted to ask him this question for a while, and she didn’t shy away from discomfort. 

“Sakura,” he greeted her neutrally. He was sitting at the little table in his cell, eating  dumplings that Kakashi-sensei had brought him. She knew this because she had watched the prison gates from a nearby tree until Kakashi had left, feeling faintly ridiculous for the subterfuge. But she didn’t want Kakashi to be around for this conversation. 

“You love Kakashi-sensei,” she began.

He nodded, and he waited.

She had seen it on Turtle Island, how everything in him was oriented to Kakashi. Kakashi’s pain and grief made Obito hurt twice as badly, though he hid this from Kakashi, only showed him care and protection and stability. Kakashi’s recovery had made him glow with happiness and relief. Kakashi’s affection made him awed, soft, as though he still couldn’t believe it was possible.

At the time, she had hated it. How dare he claim to be on their side after his crimes against Konoha, against Naruto. How dare he think to give them guidance to win the war when he had planned the war. How dare he be capable of loving someone when the person who she had loved couldn’t be fixed, couldn’t heal. Couldn’t love in return. (Until he could, of course, and she didn’t begrudge Naruto his love.)

“But you don’t blame me for what I did to him,” she said. “Why?”

Kakashi-sensei and Naruto had never blamed her. But they both cared about her, and they were good people, so as wrong as it was, their acceptance made sense. 

How could Obito, who loved Kakashi more than anyone, and who had hated so deeply not hold this against her?

(Someone should hate her at least as much as she hated herself.)

He tilted his head, thinking.

“I might have,” he said eventually. “Obviously, I’m no saint. But I found him safe before I knew what you’d done. He didn’t die because of you.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, he must have guessed her flinch from her silence. 

“He died because of me, you know,” Obito said, with a slight smile. “So I understand. I know the guilt. I know how terrible their forgiveness is. And I know how unworthy you feel. These feelings haven’t gone away for me. I doubt they will for you.”

She let herself lean her head against the cell bars, exhaled out a little of her tension. There was some strange comfort in Obito’s words. In having someone understand her.

“What helps?” she asked him softly.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure what will work for you. But for me, it’s always been him. He needed me to accept his forgiveness, so I did. He wanted me to remember myself, to know what it meant to hurt other people, so I remembered. And he wanted me to recover from what that knowledge did to me, so I tried. I’m always going to put what he wants above everything else in life.”

Once upon a time, she had loved Sasuke like that. She had wanted to do anything for him to be happy.

But she couldn’t use that strategy now, and she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be tethered to a person like Obito was to Kakashi-sensei. Not for a long time, at least.

She pulled away from the bars; stood straighter.

It was okay. She would come to terms with her actions. She would find her own way through. 

(She would accept more of Naruto’s hugs, at least. That was a start)

“Thank you, Obito,” she told him. “I’m glad that Sensei has you.” 

She turned to leave, and Obito snorted. “That’s it? I thought that you were going to give me some sort of Sensei shovel talk.”

“I think we both know what I’ll do if you ever try to hurt him, or Naruto, or Konoha again,” she said immediately. “Once you’re out of here, I’ll watch you, Obito. I think you’ve changed now, that you won’t try again, but I’ll keep you in check just in case.”

He smiled widely at that, and she could tell she was correct. They did understand each-other. This strange connection, created by the fallout of their horrible decisions from the best intentions.

“Good.” He raised a shoulder. “If you want, I can do the same for you.”

That, too, was a relief. 

“Good,” she repeated, and left him to his meal.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 4

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Not everything is what it seems.

Note: I’m getting this chapter out before I’m clogged up with work. Y’all take care of yourselves and I hope you have a Happy Halloween.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Despite your agitation, your isolation slowly reinstilled a sense of stability in you. Even if you were trapped, even if you had little choice in being there, the cabin with the bullet proof windows and advanced security system calmed your wearing nerves. And without a phone, you could not be reminded of, or harassed by the faceless villain who had turned your life on its head.

The first day dragged by as you spent hours pacing in your room and tossing and turning on the mattress. Sure, you were annoyed with Bucky and his demands, his often mercurial moods, but you recalled Steve’s words and they abated your irritation. You could still be in your apartment, still be entirely clueless to your shadowy stalker, still be a sitting duck swimming through dark waters. But you were safe with two super soldiers, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

Steve brought you a pre-packaged meal and you ate alone at the desk after trading him for your grocery list. 

You stared out the window at the shedding trees and the frozen ground, the critters gathering what they could for their nests and burrows. The preserved potatoes were powdery and stuck to your tongue; the gravy lumpy and bland. You tossed the tray in the bin under the desk and rolled yourself in your covers.

That nail in your skull hadn’t quite relented yet and the knot in your stomach only wound tighter. You were still tender between your legs but the levee had yet to break. You laid awake through the night but for the few hours before sunrise. You awoke with stiff muscles and a heavy head. No longer a sharp pain at the top but a dull pulsing just above your neck.

You went back to the desk, wrapped in the quilt formerly folded over the end of the bed and slid open the drawer. You stirred through the hotel quality contents; cheap pens, a notepad, and a handful of mints. Odd but you supposed you weren’t the first occupants of the safe house.

You took out a blue pen and the pad of paper. You looked out the window and etched in ink the scene on the other side of the glass. You weren’t particularly skilled but the points of the tall pines and the sprawling arms of the walnut tree were simple enough. Little scribbles to show the twigs and pinecones at their feet. You blindly scratched the nib against the thin paper until you heard a knock at your door.

“You awake?” Bucky’s voice came clear through the door.

You put the pen down and cloaked yourself once more in the quilt as you stood. “Yeah,” you called back as you leaned against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”

Bucky carefully turned the handle and opened the door. He wore his high collared jacket with its chest pockets and two more lower down. His leather-sheathed knife hung from his belt, its tip poking out from beneath his coat, and he twisted a pair of gloves in his hands. He let the door fall completely open and lingered in the frame.

“I’m going into town. Steve will be here.” He said as his blue eyes bore into you. “You okay?”

You shrugged and pulled the blanket tighter around you. 

“You want me to turn the heat up?” He asked. You didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About being so blunt but you have to understand, you panicking isn’t helping anyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about something like that? About the drawings?” You snapped. “I have a right to know.”

He sniffed and let out a long breath. “You really don’t want to know everything. Alright. I was just coming to make sure your list was final. Anything I need to add?”

“Just sweeping it aside? Just like that?”

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this creep. Me and Steve will. You just need to be patient,” He neared you with decisive steps, “And listen to us. We’re your lifeline, it’s about time you start using it.”

“Don’t.” You huffed. “Don’t call me ‘honey’.”

He tilted his head and his eyes sparked. His lips curved slightly as he considered you.

“Sorry,” he said rigidly. “I guess… I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

You watched him as he pulled on his gloves and bent his fingers, flexing his hands as he pushed his shoulders back.

“So, I don’t need to grab anything else while I’m out?” He prodded. “You got enough clothes--”

“Yeah,” you said sharply, “I should be fine. I’d say that list is the least of my worries.”

He smiled and scoffed. “Alright, h-- You need anything, you let Steve know. He’s downstairs trying to figure out breakfast.”

You nodded as he stared at you. He rubbed his hands together and backed away. He turned and stopped at the door.

“If you really want the truth,” he looked over his shoulder, “He killed again. Two girls in as many nights…” He shook his head and tutted. “He seems pretty desperate. It’s a good thing you’re here. With us.” He stepped out into the hall and you barely heard his last word. “Safe.”

👁️

You found Steve in the kitchen grimacing at a bag of oats. His hair was slightly askew and he wore a sweatshirt which would be loose on any other man but clung to his broad chest and thick arms. His blue eyes bore a semblance of fatigue and he looked up as you neared the other side of the long walnut island.

“There’s coffee,” he smiled. “Do you like oatmeal?”

“It will do,” you climbed up on a stool and bent your arms over the counter. “Bucky gone?”

“Yeah,” Steve set down the bag and turned to the cupboard. He pulled out a metal mug in the military style and filled it with coffee from the pot. He slid it over to you. “You like sugar? Cream? Because we have neither.”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. “So… is this something you do a lot?”

“What? Make coffee?” He asked as he bent and searched the cupboards.

“No, whatever it is we’re doing here. Hiding?”

“I’ve been sent on protective missions before,” he stood and clunked a pot on the counter. “Can’t say it’s ever been this… intense. Usually political,” he opened the bag of oats and poured them into the pot, “Escort from point A to B. Nothing overly complicated.”

“So why exactly has S.H.I.E.L.D. taken the lead and not the FBI?” 

He looked at you and raised his brows. He turned to add water to the pot and placed it on the stove. He turned the dial and spun back to you.

“If I tell you, you can’t let on to Bucky that you know.” He warned as he neared the island. “I mean it. I really shouldn’t. He’s right, you know? The less you know, the better.”

“Tell me. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” You urged. “Please.”

He sighed and pushed back his blonde hair. His short stubble caught the light as he dropped his arms.

“We have reason, strong reason, to believe that this… guy has ties to an association known as HYDRA. An organization which has been working to undermine democratic peace for decades.” Steve lowered his voice as he leaned across the countertop. “The hotel room that was… an unexpected and uncharacteristic slip-up. Before, he was stealthy, smart, we were barely able to string it all together. He was all over the city. But… I’m starting to think that it’s all deliberate on his part. He wants to distract us with the overwhelming evidence so that we make a real mistake.”

“But why-- Why would an operative want anything to do with me?”

“Oh, well, we don’t think he’s with HYDRA anymore and that makes him even more dangerous. He’s taken everything they taught him, all the evil they instilled in him, and now he’s working for his own agenda.” 

Steve searched your face, “Why he chose you; who knows? Maybe you said ‘hi’ to him and he liked the way it sounded or maybe it’s entirely at random. The FBI handed this case over because they can’t figure him out and I gotta be honest, we’re not any closer than they were. The only upper hand we have is that Bucky saw him. That’s it. We don’t have a name or anything else. Just a face and there are an awful lot of those in New York.”

You trembled and ran your fingertips down your cheeks. You gulped as you sat up and your eyes threatened to well.

“Thanks for telling me.” You whispered.

“Right, but I need a favour in return.” He said.

“What?”

“Stop snooping around. We’re all stuck in here for a while. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not Bucky. He’s just trying to do his job and he’s already had to call in back-up. He’s feeling beat up right now.” Steve explained. “Besides, you really can’t give him a hard time after he got all bloodied up for you.”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” You muttered, “I’ll cool it. Okay?”

He smiled and turned back to the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the oats. He swore under his breath.

“I really hope you’re a good cook because we’re all gonna be miserable if I’m in charge.” He tutted at the steaming pot. “Or at least, half-starved.”

👁️

“So we ended up getting lost on the beach,” Steve hit his empty bowl with his elbow as he talked. “And the bozo says he’s gonna get seasick. On land!”

You laughed as Steve’s eyes twinkled but quickly stopped as you heard the beep from the front door. It opened and closed, followed by the tap of fingertips on the panel. You looked over your shoulder as Bucky entered. You hadn’t realised how long you and Steve had been talking. A couple hours even after finishing the chewy porridge.

“There’s more in the car,” Bucky crossed to the island and plunked two bags on it. 

“Oh, I’ll help,” you slid off the stool and Bucky caught your shoulder.

“You should stay inside,” Bucky said, “Steve.”

“Alright.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’ll clean up in here,” you offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned as he rounded the counter. “But since you promised to cook tonight I’ll be more than happy to let you do so then.”

“Deal,” you said and watched him pass into the hallway. 

Bucky’s hand slipped from your shoulder and he gripped the lip of the counter. “You two get along.”

“Figure I should try, considering,” you moved so that the stool was between you. 

“It’s gonna start snowing soon.” He said awkwardly. “Calling for a storm next week. Could be snowed in here.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said.

“Maybe,” he reached into one of the bags as he spoke, “I got you this.” He pulled out a bottle of red, “Figured I might as well.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to but… thanks,” you tried to smile. You heard Steve behind you and Bucky’s jaw squared as he looked over your shoulder. “At least let me help unpack.” You insisted as Steve placed the bags beside the others. “I mean, it’ll be something to keep me busy.”

“Twist my arm,” Steve said, “Alright, I’ll get the dishes and you started putting all this away. Bucky, do you mind helping?”

Bucky nodded and blinked slowly. “Any coffee left?” He asked.

“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve said as he gathered up the bowls, “But I wouldn’t recommend my oatmeal. There’s probably something better hidden in those bags.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky muttered, “It was a long ride.”

👁️

You decided that while you weren’t in control, it didn’t mean you were helpless. It only meant that you needed to let those who knew what they were doing take care of it. Bucky and Steve had years of experience in security and combat. You were just a secretary scared for her life. You had no idea what to do or what you were doing.

After the first couple days, it grew easier. You grew comfortable but not complacent. The few times of day you could cook kept you busy enough to distract you. Steve and Bucky were easier to be around as you grew used to them, even just used to having others in your living space. Mostly, you kept to yourself but managed some decent conversation when you ate or stumbled upon each other in the cabin.

It was quiet and you were bored. Again. There were a few books you'd found to read and your doodles had grown frustrating. You decided to take a shower and try to relax. Your isolation made you restless and your restlessness made you think of why you were hidden away in the middle of nowhere.

You locked the door behind you and hung your towel. To your surprise, Bucky had managed to pick out the exact soap you used. You couldn't recall if you'd been finicky enough to have written it on the list. You stretched and undressed. You still didn't sleep very well but it wasn't as if you did very much either.

You stepped under the showerhead as the pipes whined. In the evening, if your keepers were busy, you'd read by the woodstove. The smell was calming and the crackle filled the dead air. Maybe after you would sneak down and try to warm up in front of the fire.

The shower fogged up and you closed your eyes as you scrubbed your body. The smell was reassuring. It reminded you of when your life was normal. It made you think that maybe you could go back to before. That this might end and you might be free to live again.

You let out a breath and cranked the shower off. You pulled back the curtain as the steam cleared and you patted your skin dry before wrapping yourself in the towel. As you picked up your clothes, you froze. You stood and neared the door. Had you not locked it? 

It was half-open and let in a draft from the hallway. You poked your head out and peered up and down the hall. Nothing, no one. Well, you were careless, you could've left it unlocked, not pushed it enough for it to catch.

You tiptoed across the hall to your room and pulled the door shut. This time you made sure it was closed though there was no lock on it. You tossed your clothes on the bed and pulled out a new set. Loose sweatpants and a cotton shirt. You needed to do laundry already. Well, another task to keep you occupied.

You pulled on some socks and crept out into the hall. You descended the stairs and listened for any sign of disturbance. Usually the men worked in the dining room or in the small office on the other side of the stairs. 

You got to the bottom of the stairs and neared the front door. You looked out at the grey forest. It was supposed to snow that night, that's what Bucky declared at breakfast. You grasped the handle but it would not turn. You reached to the panel just beside you but it rejected your fingerprint with a loud beep. 

"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked and you spun to face him, startled.

"No, I just… haven't been outside and I just wanted to… smell the air. I guess that's, uh, weird." You rubbed your hands together.

"It's freezing. You can't go out like that."

You stared at him. "But can I… go out?"

His blue eyes clung to you and his long lashes flicked. He lifted his brow and stepped closer. He stopped and slid your boots over to you with his foot. 

"Stay close," he grabbed his coat, "And wear a hat."

He handed you a wool beanie from his coat pocket before he pulled the ends of his hair from beneath his collar. You took your coat, in slight disbelief, and smiled.

"You sure it's okay?"

"Well, you shouldn't be pent up in here for so long and once it snows, you won't wanna go out much at all."

He opened the door as you tucked your hands into your gloves. You stepped out and he followed you closely as the door clicked shut behind him. You tramped down the steps and bounced on your heels at the bottom. It smelled like pine and cold.

Bucky walked evenly across the clearing and you trailed behind him as he neared the trees. He stopped and waited for you to catch up. He waved you ahead of him. "Just follow the path."

He wasn't far behind as you did as he said, the path winding between trees and petering out before a frosty brook that would freeze over with the first snowfall. Your teeth chattered as the looming winter nipped through your layers. You were quiet as you bent to pick up a pinecone and admire its scales.

You felt Bucky watching you as you turned back and walked around the small clearing amidst the trees.

"Hey," you faced him and tossed the pinecone away, "I'm sorry I was so… contrary. I was afraid."

"It's fine," he shooed away your apology with his hand, "I've dealt with worse."

"Sure but… I owe you a thank you, too. You saved me. More than once. And I know I wouldn't be alive without you. So thanks. Really. And… I am trying. I trust you. I know you're going to get this guy."

He gave a small smile and kicked a stone as he came closer. "Well, let me just say, this is one of the only jobs I've been assigned that hasn't been a complete pain in the ass."

You scoffed and resisted your urge to back away from him. "Flattering, really."

"Twenty minutes," he said, "Then we gotta go back… before Steve notices and gets worried. Or worse, he'll think we left him out of some fun."

"Ah," you snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to think that."

👁️

Another day and then another. Time fell as lackadaisical as the snow. At first, it had been a storm but it had slowed to a powdery lull. Neither Steve nor Bucky spoke of the killer and you didn’t dare to ask. What good would it do you to know he had killed another? Or that some other grisly piece of art had been found? Ignorance was bliss or at least solace.

You found yourself moving from room to room. First, your bedroom, then the kitchen for a cup of tea, the living room to feed the stove and watch it burn, and then back upstairs. You ran into Steve on your way up. He seemed distracted if not a bit perturbed. You noticed that in the last day he and Bucky had been quiet. More so than usual.

You continued up to your room and opened your current read; a classic you refused to read in high school and opted for the Sparknotes instead. You laid on your bed, one leg bent under the other as you swayed back and forth. The words didn’t stick in your mind and you found yourself rereading the same page until you clapped the book shut and snarled.

You sat up and tapped your foot on the floor. You heard voices, muffled by your door. You eked it open and slowly approached the top of the stairs. You listened as the argument came clearer.

“Goddamn it, Bucky, after everything I’ve done for you. What the fuck are we here for? Well, what am I here for?” Steve growled.

“Stop yelling, alright.” Bucky snipped. “Have a little fucking patience. You know this hasn’t been easy.” You heard something slam but couldn’t guess at what. “Don’t fucking blow it. Shut up and have a little faith in me.”

There was grumbling but nothing more as a door closed and blocked out the voices entirely. You felt that heat along the back of your neck. The sudden burst of instinctual fear that nestled along your shoulders. The goosebumps that told you that not all was as it seemed. The creeping, inescapable sensation which had lingered for weeks now.

You pushed yourself up to your feet and headed back to your room. It was a stressful mission, you couldn’t blame the two for getting frustrated. That must have been what it was. They were anxious to get this guy and be onto their next mission. You doubted it was their ideal job to be locked away in the snow.

You stopped as your hand fell to your door handle and you peered down the hall into Bucky’s room. The door was mostly open, only a slight angle blocking out part of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hand away from the knob and felt along the wall as you continued down the hall.

His bed was unmade, the pillows strewn about, and a familiar patch of fabric stuck out from beneath one of them. You glanced behind you and took a breath. You took a step inside and waited as if testing it. Would he know? He seemed to know everything.

You placed one foot in front of the other as softly as you could. You leaned a knee against the mattress and reached beneath the pillow. You lifted up your panties and blanched at the little daisies speckles along the cotton. You’d gone all week without a pair, the mystery of their disappearance forgotten as your own carelessness. You mouthed ‘what the fuck’ as you dropped them back to the bed.

You turned around and went to the tall dresser near the closet. You inched the top drawer open; the rest of your panties bunched up with his briefs. The pink pair with the hearts you didn’t dare to touch as dried white strings stained the lacy edge. You slid the drawer shut and gasped as you were suffocated by your shock.

You spun around and peeked out the open door. You heard nothing but the winter gales outside. You rounded the bed and went to the table in the corner; a monitor, a mouse, a keyboard, stacks of folders and papers. 

Your fingers shook as you took your wallet from the mess and opened it up. Your cards, your IDs, and even the cash remained within. You put it back and took the envelope that was hidden beneath it. You opened it and flipped through its contents; your college ID from years ago, the one you got replaced after presumably dropping it in the library, your graduation photo, pictures of your family and you… all things you’d thought you lost.

You replaced the envelope and lifted the top of a file. The same drawing as before and several more, each one bloodier, more gruesome than the last until the final one. A metal arm around your neck…

Your hand hit the mouse as you retracted it in disgust and the monitor lit up. The sudden glare stung your eyes. A dozen different frames across the screen; each one a room in the house, including yours and even one in the shower. Bucky and Steve were in the office, deep in conversation.

You let out a shuddered breath as tears pricked.

You moved the mouse slowly and clicked on the file explorer. Folders sorted by date and then another simply labelled with your street name. You hesitated before you selected it. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of video files sorted by date. You bent closer as you clicked on the last day.

You hit double speed as your empty apartment greeted you. Then you came home, poured your wine, then Bucky arrived, you ordered food… You slowed down the footage as you slumped against the arm of the couch. The wine and the terror of that video call had left you senseless.

Bucky stood and pulled you down to lay across the couch. He backed up and watched you for a while then neared you again. You watched in horror as he bent over you and rolled your pants down. He climbed between your legs and buried his head between them. He shoved his metal hand beneath his mouth and your entire body jolted as he fingered.

You gasped as he finished and pulled your pants back up. Then he stood near you and used your hand to pleasure himself. You exited out of the window before your stomach turned entirely. You stood as you looked to the live feed. The office was empty.

You were suddenly pulled back as a rope wrapped around your neck. You kicked out as you were strangled, a figure flush against your back. You flailed and grabbed at the robe as you were shoved towards the bed. The body fell down onto you and the rope tightened.

“Baby girl,” Bucky’s voice slithered in your ear, “It didn’t have to be like this.”

[yanderestevenuniverse]

I'd love to see a nice prequel to "Precious Little Thing" - explaining how the S/O washed up on Mask Island after an accident on the waters, and comes to meet and be held prisoner by Malachite herself.

well of course my dear black onyx20

my precious little thing: prequal (insert starwars prequal joke here)

waves slammed ageinst the side of the boat causing it to rock from side to side which was bad for you since you were trying to get back to your room. if you could even find your way stupid ship it has to may levels to many corridors you thought as you turned a corner hoping it would contain your room only foor it to contain another unfimilier corridor you sighed to yourself as you put your hand ageinst the wall for stability and looked around you for anything that might look fimilier. just then you heard... was that a scream you thought to yourself your attention now suddenly peaked... there it was agein now alarmed you imeadiatly started looking for the source was someone hurt? arfter looking through a couple of corridors you tracked the...noise to outside the ship? now you were very concerned there was a storm outside the wind was eaisly enough to push someone off the the ship and the rain made sure that the deck was slippery enough to make sure they fell. which was esactly what you were worreid about after a few seconds of gathering your strangth tou descided to just go with it. quickly useing all of your strangth  to push ageinst the wind. as you stepped outside the door slamed behind you makeing you jump as you desperatly tried to keep your footing trying to find the source of the screams. it was very dark outside with the storm blocking out the stars above you could bearly see anything relying purely on the sound of the screams to find your way all the while trying to keep your footing. was... was the it coming from over the ship. panic filled you were you to late? had they gone over board? carefully grabbing onto the railing you scanned out over what little you could make out from the ocean. thats when you saw them. four golden orbs floated in the darkness seemingly bodiless at first only for a crack of lightneing to illuminate a towering body attached to them. you opend your mouth to scream but it never came for a wave smashed into the oppisite side of the ship sending you tumbleing over the side of the boat allowing a yelp to leave your mouth as you fell down! down! down! before finally you hit the water followed only by darkness and...

you lived?...

feeling... sand beneath your fingers you grogaly looked up to see you were on a island. trees covering a lush green jungles as you could hear exsotic birds chirping in the distance.

you should really be more careful you heard a booming voice say as you quickly turned to see... a monster 

purley white k9s lined a smile that spread just a little too wide across her face. four golden orbes stared down upon you ctting into your soul. white matted hair connecting to a six limed aqua stripped body 

my precious little thing 

end

[itsmoonpeaches]

The Ocean Meets the Sky

Chapter 7: Souls

Please note: Every prompt for this Kataang Week connects into an over-arching story.

Prompt: Soulmate AU

Story summary: After his battle with Fire Lord Ozai, something lingers within Aang's spirit. Katara is the one that pulls the seams back together. No matter what, Aang and Katara find each other.

Chapter summary: There were pieces of wobbling, rickety furniture. A stool with three legs and with uneven lengths, a crate being utilized as a table, a cracked Pai Sho board with missing playing tiles. There were inky shadows in the corners that filled the lines in between the timbers. Outside, it looked impossibly bright. It was oversaturated with odd tones of pigment and motes of speckled dust that lightened the room.

“That was a brave thing that girl did, you know,” said someone. Their voice broke the silence.

-

Or, Aang remembers a promise.

Written for @kataang-week

Read on ao3 or ffn.

---

Aang blinked and he was floating above a scene with a ruined palace courtyard. He saw his own body struggling to keep itself standing up as if in a war with itself, eyes flashing from violet to bleached white. Katara was grasping his body’s forearm, eyes closed, face eerily calm.

He blinked again, and he was nowhere near the same scene.

He rose in the middle of a dilapidated structure made of run-down planks that were half-eaten with rot and nailed together with rusty iron. Thick, twisting tree branches snaked through a rectangular open window. Another broke the ceiling and proceeded through the floor, holding up the poorly made building in the treetop it stood in.

There were pieces of wobbling, rickety furniture. A stool with three legs and with uneven lengths, a crate being utilized as a table, a cracked Pai Sho board with missing playing tiles. There were inky shadows in the corners that filled the lines in between the timbers. Outside, it looked impossibly bright. It was oversaturated with odd tones of pigment and motes of speckled dust that lightened the room.

“That was a brave thing that girl did, you know,” said someone. Their voice broke the silence.

Aang saw as upon the three-legged stool there materialized a man in unkempt, draping, orange clothing. He was young, maybe just a few years older than Zuko was. He was scrappy, youthful, with a demeanor that told of a boy trying at being older than he really was. He was cleanshaven with dark, black hair that stood up in a mess of spikes.

His eyes were a Fire Nation golden brown and had a piercing quality to them that Aang recognized, but he could not quite figure out from whom. It was determined like Zuko’s stare, kind like Iroh’s, but there was something ancient and knowing behind them that reminded him of Roku.

“It was brave,” the man continued, lips quirking at one end, “but it wasn’t ever going to work…trading places like that…not in the way she thought.”

Aang felt a pull, a call, from someplace inside himself. He stepped toward the man and left the center of the room. “Who are you? What are you talking about?” he asked. He stopped walking when he was only a few paces away. He was in the patch of light that spilled from the window.

The man chuckled. He leaned forward and placed his chin on his palm, his elbow resting on the crate. “Wan,” he introduced himself, “but you already knew that didn’t you?”

Aang gasped as soon as he heard the name. There was a click, a resounding bell that tolled and that he thought he could feel resonating within him. An invisible force sliding into place.

For a moment he saw himself as an old man in an era long gone, surrounding by snapped arrows and shattered weapons on a battlefield. He apologized to Raava.

“It’s hard, you know,” started Wan again and bringing Aang back to reality, “to live nearly ten thousand years and to live so many lifetimes.” His gaze lingered on Aang’s. “But what doesn’t change is that every life is new, and every life is a continuation of the last one.”

“You’re…the First,” Aang whispered, almost in quiet reverence.

Wan stood up from his stool, and it faltered for a few seconds before it stabilized. He met Aang where he was, and they were bathed together in the same beam of sunlight.

“You know what else doesn’t change?” Wan spoke again. He smiled albeit with a bittersweetness. “The fact that in every new life we have, we remember what it’s like to be human.”

He pointed to Aang’s chest, and it glowed softly with the same light of Raava’s intricate patterns, reacting to his presence.

“In every life we have Raava, the spirit of light and peace with us. But there is a balance that is maintained and still, Vaatu, the spirit of darkness and chaos must exist,” said Wan. “They have an eternal battle, you see, like that of our own world’s. No matter if they are there or not, the essence of them always remains…because the world is like that. Because humans are like that.”

It sounded like an archaic parable told to children as a bedtime story. But Aang knew, as he did the other lives he has had, what was true.

He did not have to be reminded that there was great good and great evil that existed in the world. He lived through a war that proved that. He had longed, beyond all else, for Gyatso to be alive, for his people to come back.

“What Master Katara did was pure and courageous, and so, so human,” Wan began again. His expression was unreadable. “That is exactly why it didn’t work.”

Aang clenched a fist at his side. “What happened to her?” he pressed. “What happened to Katara?”

Wan bowed his head a little, and there was something kind in the way he looked at him. “She returned to her body, as you soon will,” he remarked. “She healed your soul, as only a person bonded with the soul of an Avatar could. She helped you to remember that there is love in this world, love that is reborn.” He paused, peering at him in an inquisitive fashion. “Vaatu made a gamble that he was sure to lose, even if he didn’t know it. For his error, he returned to his jail. He gambled on the fact that he could bond with any human, and for some that might be true. But he forgot that there is something even stronger than peace and chaos, even if they rule our lives, even if they are connected.

“Love is what makes us human, Aang. It’s what has driven our incarnations to do what they have done, what we have done. It is the ultimate balance…not good, not evil. It is the reason why a soul is born alongside every reincarnation, a soul to help the world remember that the Avatar is human…because they have forgotten before.”

Wan’s eyes were bright with white light, and all Aang could see was himself sitting cross-legged in a locked room alone.

The wooden floorboards he sat upon did not even creak as he stood on bare feet. The resounding silence followed him, an infinite specter that clung to his shoulders like a heavy cape. He paced, sliding open the window to witness the morning as it blanketed the bamboo forest outside. He closed it, and then the shadows in the room grew darker. He opened the window again and the moon was full and the stars a hoary bright.

He stared at a copse of trees just below him, for he was so far up. He waited and waited, but no one came.

It was then that he turned to the empty teapot that rested on the chest in the corner of his prison. He called for a servant to fill it with water. His hand went to his sleeve where he had hidden the packet of powder that he had swiped from the apothecary while on a visit to the islands where the people of the element of fire resided.

All he wanted was to be free.

The light subsided, and Aang was looking at Wan again. They were both misty-eyed.

“A spirit is born out of necessity, out of wishes. A soul is often born like that too. And if the wish is strong enough, then they will be reborn again and again,” Wan explained. His brow was crinkled, and he could not look at Aang directly for a time. “The people forgot that we are like them...until the fourth Avatar, Kun, and he paid the price for it. It was the powerful, resilient wish of the person that loved him most to give him the humanity he deserved.”

Aang let out a breath he did not know he was holding. Rivulets of tears ran down his cheeks.

“I’ve made many mistakes, but I think this is the biggest one,” Wan sighed. He did not look away from Aang again. “I told the people that I was part of legend when I had forgotten to remind them who I really was, and that thought continued from one life to the next.”

His firm hand grasped Aang’s shoulder as he spoke. “But love has foresight,” he said quietly. “You will meet across times, across lifetimes, in different places, in different eras. You could be friends, you could be family, you could be lovers, but you will meet…and when you do, your heart will remember that promise.”

When Wan released him, the branches and the timber fell away. He was rushed through a myriad of moving pictures, pushed back through space.

He only halted for a moment in a field of white. A palm opened before him, and he could not stop the smile that settled upon his face.

“I found you,” Katara said, and he was whole.

[tomthesoftie]

Hey, it’s me again. For the part two of ‘her blood-stained bodysuit’ where the reader is still upset about tom expecting to high of her, the next morning tom noticed it and try make it up to her..? Something like that... or you can make it your own way 😊 thank you in advance

her blood-stained bodysuit pt. 2

❧ prompt: all you wanted was to help your mobster boyfriend. you never expected your plan to go all wrong and result in failure. when you return home with blood soaking your suit and drying in your hair, how does Tom react?

❧ pairing: mob!tom x assassin!reader

❧ genre: angst, fluff

❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, slamming a glass cup onto a counter (?), mentions of insecurity

❧ a/n: i got a backup laptop babies! it’s not actually mine but i’m going to get mine fixed soon :)) hopefully this part lived up to your standards, anon. i tried to make it angsty-er than the first part since someone reposted it saying it wasn’t as angsty as they expected. i didn’t find it as an insult because i took it more in a constructive criticism way. anyways, enjoy!

part 1!

masterlist                     prompt list                     add yourself on my taglist!

You flinched awake, placing a palm at the side of your head. Your eye shut in pain, letting out a shaking breath. You looked ahead of you, stabilizing yourself, before using both of your arms to push yourself up into a sitting position. Beside you, you heard the sheets rustling and felt movement beneath them. You froze in your spot, turning to face the sleeping figure.

Tom laid peacefully, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. His steady breathing filled the radio silent room. Flashes of the night before filled your mind, Tom’s voice ringing in your ears. 

“It’s so unlike you to be so reckless.“

“I expected you to know better.”

You let out an audible huff, forcing your aching off the bed. Your blistered feet touched the cool floor, relaxing your tense body. Quietly, you made your way to the bathroom with an occasional limp. 

Looking yourself over in the mirror, you took note that you looked like a mess: (h/c) hair a tangled mop, dry, cracked lips, and bruises littered your figure. You winced at the sight and began towards the shower. 

Stepping into the warm, fog-filled cubicle, you sighed as the warm water relaxed your tight muscles. Your arms wrapped around your torso, holding yourself as your hair flattened against your scalp. You let a hand fall to your thigh, fingertips dancing along the hem of your waterproof bandage.

Sighing, you stepped into the empty gym. You closed the door behind you, pulling off your large, black jacket. You placed the piece onto the bench, sitting beside it to put on your black tennis shoes.

The gym was a sad room at those hours. The hours when everyone was still asleep or slowly awakening, when the rising sun was concealed by the overwhelming fog. Through the teal-tinted glass, the opaque light in the room was faint, shadows hiding in the corners of the room. The air was still, an occasional shift when there was the slightest of movements. 

A chill ran down your spine, as you shook, and goosebumps slowly arose from your soft skin. Rubbing your arms for warmth, you grabbed the black hair tie and pulled your hair up into a tight ponytail.

You worked hard for the next couple of hours, pushing yourself over your limit. Occasionally, you stopped when you felt a sharp pain in your thigh or your vision spun you off balance. 

After another shower, you made your way into the kitchen, smelling of fresh soap. You grabbed a glass of water, chugging the cup in one go. You leaned against the island of your kitchen, staring out the large window and at the gorgeous scenery of trees. 

“I’ve done everything I can to be the top,” you spoke, quietly, “Where did I go wrong?” 

“G’morning, darling,” Tom’s groggy voice filled your ears, as you felt him place a gentle kiss to your temple. 

You flinched back at the sudden contact, strangely alert to your surroundings. 

“Sorry. Did I touch your wound?” A concerned hand came up to your face, gently moving your hair behind your ear.

Shaking your head, you moved towards the stove, thinking about ways to improve yourself on the field. Just as an idea popped in your head, his voice came up again. 

“It’s so unlike you to be so reckless.“

“I expected you to know better.”

Your head snapped up, and you looked behind you. “What’d you say?” You asked with a venomous tone.

“I just asked if you were feeling better, love,” he walked up to you and placed an arm around your waist, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Maneuvering out of his grasp, you replied, “Yes, I’m fine. I don’t need to be babied, Tom. I just have a lot going on in my mind.”

Concerned, Tom pushed further, “You know you can tell me anything.”

Frustrated, you harshly put down the glass in your hand, almost shattering it against the counter. 

Tom flinched.

“Look, I’m just really tired and sore and frustrated, right now. If you could just leave me alone for a few minutes, maybe I’ll feel like putting up with you later,” you snapped, walking out of the room, leaving him no time to speak.

As expected, he followed after you, wondering what had gone wrong. He thought back to the night before, trying to remember if your attitude could possibly be a symptom of the medications you took. Shaking his head, he reflected the argument the pair of you had.

That must be it, he nodded to himself.

Unknowingly, you lead him to the gym, but when he tried to pull the door open, the glass wouldn’t budge. From within, he heard your gentle grunts and soft breaths, leading him to the conclusion of you exercising. Thinking to the injuries you had returned with, he began to worry and panic for you and your health.

What were you thinking? What if you injure yourself further? Why aren’t you prioritizing your health? Tom thought, growing frustrated, mostly at himself.

His fist banged on the glass, head spinning with negative thoughts, “Darling, you need to let yourself rest. You’ll only hurt yourself more if you push yourself over your limit.”

You heard the faint murmur of his shouts but decided to ignore it. If you were stronger, you wouldn’t be in the position you were in: a limp in your walk, ache in your thigh, and an occasional blur to your vision.

Stepping onto the treadmill, you dialed the speed to 5 miles per hour to start as a warm up. Within a minute, you pushed yourself to a run at 6 miles per hour, then to a sprint at 7. You were panting for air, sweat dripping down your face.

 You could still hear Tom’s protests, angering you further. 

Unsatisfied that you could still hear the noises in your environment, you brought the speed up to 7.5 miles per hour, a sharp pain slowly becoming more and more noticeable in your thigh. The blood that rushed to your ears drowned out anything and everything you didn’t want to hear.

Barely any time had passed when the faint pain in your leg began to feel like someone was constantly pressing on your wound. Additionally, your head was pounding, and your vision was growing blurrier by every passing minute. 

You brought a hand up to your forehead, fingers pressing into your temples, attempting to massage the pain away. Unfortunately, the pain stayed, and if anything, increased tenfold. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, arms grasping at the hand supports of the treadmill.

Before you knew it, your vision turned black, and the sensation of your body getting thrown into the air was all you felt before you went unconscious.

-

After too many attempts, Tom was able to successfully break the lock of the gym door. Hearing you continuously and vigorously increase the speed of the conveyor belt made him move in haste, leading to his multiple failures. He was too worried about your wellbeing to think straight.

As he stepped into the room, he saw your hands fall limp by your side, and your body rocked to the side, off balance. With wide eyes, he ran to your slipping figure before you could make contact with the hard floor.

“Darling? Love? Are you alright? Please answer me,” he cried, looking at the pain-etched face of yours.

Not receiving a response, he quickly stood, carrying you bridal style in his arms and back into your shared bedroom.

-

You rolled your head to the side, hearing a rustling beneath you. Your body felt overheated, aching to feel even the slightest of breezes.

As you began to move your leg to kick the thick duvet off your body, you flinched in pain, reflexively grabbing said leg to support it.

“Don’t move. You’ll only make it hurt more,” a gentle voice explained from behind you.

Consumed by your pain, you hadn’t even noticed you were tucked in your bed, back in your shared bedroom. 

The familiar brunette you had spent the day trying to ignore protruded from the shadows, eyes quivering and shining with tears.

“What happened?” You asked, throat oddly hoarse.

“You overworked yourself. You fainted whilst running,” he explained, “I was so fucking worried, darling. I almost lost you,” he shook his head, “No, I could’ve lost you, but I didn’t. I’m so lucky to have opened that door before you hit the ground.” A few tears began to leak out of the inner corners of his chocolate eyes as he thought of the scenario of him not saving you in time.

“It’s all my fault,” he let out a loud so, “If I hadn’t said that you weren’t good enough or that you were too reckless, you wouldn’t be here,” he placed a hand onto the bed, “in this wretched bed, resting as you are now. Your thigh wouldn’t be bleeding out, right now, if I hadn’t insulted you out of frustration and worry. I wasn’t—” he hiccuped, “I didn’t have my head on straight. If I did, I would’ve been more generous and not passive to you. You were only trying to help me, and all I repaid you with were insults.”

Pitifully looking at your boyfriend, you moved a weak arm to his hand, tugging him down onto his knees. You patted his curled locks, giving him the best smile you could muster.

“I know you were concerned for me, but what you said really hurt me. You know how,” you thought for a proper word for a moment, “insecure I can be about my abilities in this field. There’s so much— too much competition in my industry and having to keep up this perfect, high-leveled assassin façade is taking a toll on my mental health.”

Tom’s eyes shook with despair. He never knew you felt this way. He’d never want you to have to deal with your hardships alone.

“But, because of you, I’ve been trying my best and pushing myself over so many of my limits to make me the best I can be. I mean, you’re one of the most powerful mobsters to be, so it would only make sense if I were one of the most successful and strongest assassin, right?”

Shaking his head, he cried, “No, not if it means breaking yourself apart and tearing your morale into pieces.” He grabbed both your small hands, enclosing them in his. He looked straight into your eyes, sniffling away his tears, “I don’t care whether you’re number one or number 3 billion. All I care about is your happiness and wellbeing. I want you to live your best life with me. I want you to feel like you can trust me and come to me whenever you need me because I am here. I will continue to be here through thick and thin. I love you. Not because you’re one of the most skilled assassins, not because you’re someone I can flaunt to others, but because you are the most beautiful, talented, intelligent, lovable person I know. I wouldn’t exchange you for the world.” 

This time, Tom’s eyes didn’t sparkle because of his sorrowful tears, they twinkled because of his love and adoration towards you and only you.

“I-I love you, too, Tommy, and I promise that I’ll come to you whenever I need you,” you placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You can also come to me anytime as well,” you blushed.

“Thank you, love,” he tilted his head, smiling, thumb stroking the blush on your cheeks.

“Thank you, bubs, for having my back and understanding me and putting up with me.”

Pulling on his arm, you dragged him into bed with you to cuddle. He stumbled as he focused on avoiding touching your injuries.

That night you fell asleep in each other’s arms, an unbreakable bond connecting the two of you. You understood him, and he, you.

All left of that tragic night from before had dissipated into nothingness, except for her blood-stained bodysuit.

taglist: @marlenetough @big-galaxy-chaos @chloecreatesfictions-archive @dpaccione

[miss-tc-nova]

You Won - Sora x Reader

HI! First off, thank you so much for this request. I needed some more fluff in my life. Second, of course I had to pick Sora, Sora said the line! Okay, I didn’t have to but it felt so right! Third, I hope this lives up to your expectations. I had to mull it over for a while, but once I got it going it was fun. Please enjoy.

~~~~~

              “Okay, you can let go now. But don’t look yet.”

              Against instructions, I tighten my grip, pressing my face harder against the young man’s back.

              “Ugh! Sora!”

              “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.” A hand taps at my fists. “But please let go; you’re gonna squeeze my guts out.”

              I release him to slide my hands over my eyes. I feel him get off the massive, bike-like machine he calls a keyblade glider.

              “You’re not gonna leave me here, are you?”

              “No. I just need a minute.”

              “You know, when you go on blind dates, you still get to see the guy you’re going out with,” I say sarcastically.

              “What’s a blind date?”

              “Not this.”

              Sora laughs. “Just relax. I’ll be done soon.”

              Grumbling, I set in to wait.

              When I woke up this morning, I knew that my boyfriend had plans for us today; what I didn’t expect was for him to take me to an entirely different world.

              Once we got into a serious relationship, Sora kind of spilled the beans on his magical powers—meaning he started talking about wild adventures like a crazy person until Riku slapped him. I might’ve just let it slip and excused it as Sora’s wild imagination had Riku not overreacted. Once I picked the brunette out of the sand, I had to pry the story out of them. All of it was nonsense to me—a fairy tale they had made up or something—but Sora proved me wrong with the keyblade. In a matter of minutes, he got me believing in magic and that, maybe, other worlds really did exist. Well today he proved they did by taking me to one.

              “You’re not peeking, are you?” Sora calls, breaking into my musings.

              “No,” I groan.

              “Are you sure?” I can hear the smile in his accusation.

              “Yes, Sora, I’m sure.”

              “Good. I’m gonna pick you up.”

              “WhaaaAAAAAAA!” My arms immediately circle his neck when I’m lifted from my seat.

              His hold tightens. “Don’t worry. I got you.”

              Trusting Sora is as easy as breathing; so while I’m nervous and mildly uncomfortable, I keep my eyes closed and rest my face against his shoulder. A warm breeze washes across my skin. I can hear the dancing of leaves high above us and the song of a bird or two. I could probably fall asleep in the comfort of the moment if not for the fact there’s a surprise waiting for me.

              Sora’s arms shift, lowering my feet. I keep a tight fist of his shirt for a sense of stability.

              “Can I look now?”

              “Ye-No! Wait!” He takes my hand off his shirt before leaving me stranded.

              “Sora!”

              “Hold on!”

              I growl but let him run around a bit more while I’ve got my eyes closed. I can hear him fighting with something, frustrated growl and all.

              “Okay! Okay,” he says.

              “Can I look now?” It’s endearing that he’s trying to make it all perfect, but he got my hopes up that this blind thing was over, so I’m getting antsy.

              “Uh…Yeah! Now you can look.”

              The light is blinding yet only a few blinks fend off the brightness. Met with a beautiful scene, I awe. Trees tower high above, spreading their leaves to dapple shade on the ground. Green grass flourishes with patches of colorful flowers spread about. The weather is perfect and serene. This is a place I’d only seen in fairy tales.

              I’m definitely not on Destiny Islands anymore.

              Sitting in a shady spot of grass is a blanket with a basket, food containers, and even a little round vase with some of the wild flowers in it. Eyes roll because I should’ve known this would be a picnic. Beside the spread stands my boyfriend with the most excited, hopeful grin I think I’ve ever seen him wear.

              It takes two strides to wrap him up in an embrace. Excitedly, I ask, “When did you plan all this?”

              “Like two weeks ago.”

              “Two weeks?” Sifting through memories, I remember. Folding my arms, I say, “You mean when you told me Riku needed your help training?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Uh huh. You realize when you plan a surprise, you should probably tell the guy who’s supposed to be your alibi?”

              His smile disappears. “What do you mean?”

              “I mean that I found Riku in town and grilled him about what you were up to.” Sora’s eyes widen in horror. “That guy better be your best friend. I knew he was lying his little heart out but he made up some excuse on the spot and stuck to it.’

              Shoulders slump. “Aww, you knew?”

              I reply, “I knew something was up, but I didn’t know what…And then I kinda forgot about it.”

              “Pfft. You forgot?”

              I grin. “Yeah. So it’s still a good surprise.”

              Sora nuzzles his nose against mine. “Thank goodness.”

              Hands against my back pull me flush against him. Soft lips press into my cheek and proceed to drop little pecks as they trail to my neck. A giggle comes from the tickling sensation. Reactively, I lift my shoulder to push him away and he places one more on my nose.

              “I love you,” he says softly.

              “I love you too.” I return the cheek kiss. “So what’s for lunch today, lover boy?”

              “Oh! This place has great soup and amazing bread!”

              “Perfect. I’m starving.”

              As we eat, just enough sunlight sprinkles through the leaves to keep warm even in the shade. By the time the food is all gone, I can already see where this is going. Sora flops onto his side, resting his head in my lap. It takes minutes for his eyelids to start drooping. A tuneless hum floats through the air as I run my fingers through his hair. He drifts off in peace soon after.

              I can’t help glancing around at the sight I would never see on our home world, still enamored by the foreign beauty. And then I look back at Sora. For a guy from such a small world, he’s seen so much. I’m sure there are plenty of other beautiful sights than just this. I thought I was happy and content on Destiny Islands in its familiarity and security, but in this moment, I’m tempted to make Sora take me to another wonderous site. So I would have completely understood if he never returned to Destin Islands ever again.

              But Sora came home. Despite being able to run off on adventures that could last a life time, he went back to Destiny Islands, and I don’t understand why.

              “What’s wrong?”

              My eyes shoot down to the boy in my lap. Sleepy eyes blink his nap away.

              “Nothing. Why?”

              “You got a crease between your eyebrows.”

              I realize I’m frowning and relax. “I was just thinking.”

              “’Bout what?” he yawns.

              There’s nothing to be gained from asking my question—it’s in the past so it’s not like anything will change. Still, I want to understand the choice that changed my life.

              “Why did you go back to Destiny Islands?”

              “Huh?”

              “C’mon, Destiny Islands is pretty, but it’s just one sight out of probably millions out there. There’s so much out there to see, so why did you go back?”

              His blue eyes shift to the sky. “Well, like you said, there’s so much out there—more than I’ll ever be able to see in my whole life. It’s nice to go out and explore those new things, but sometimes, you just miss home. Besides, ever since I first saw you, I could always feel something pulling me back.”

              “I’m sorry what?” He gives me a toothy grin. “No, don’t grin at me. What are you talking about? Were you stalking me?!”

              “No! I just-…I mean-…”

              Tugging at his cheeks, I say, “Mean what? Spit it out!”

              He pushes my hands off, a blush dusting his face. “Uh, well, me, Riku, and Kairi wanted to get off the islands so bad, we started building a raft. They told me to find supplies and, while I was doing that, I saw you for the first time. You were sitting by the paopu tree and…I remember thinking you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Blood rushes into my ears. “I was gonna ask you to come with us…but I chickened out. Then stuff happened and I went to other worlds. But no matter what amazing things I saw, I couldn’t help comparing them to you—and you won every time.”

              My heart is fluttering in my chest at his confession. But Sora’s not done. He looks me in the eyes and, with complete seriousness, says, “I told myself if I ever made it back, I was gonna ask you out on a date.”

              A hand clams over my mouth while my dumbfounded brain scrambles for a response.

              Sora sits up, looking at me in concern. “You okay?”

              What comes from my stupid mouth is sarcasm. “You’re such a dork.”

              He protests, “Oh come on! Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

              “No!”

              Sora scowls. As I’m coming down from the fluster, I can’t help smiling as I rest my palm against his cheek.

              “But I do believe in you. And your heart has never let you down before, has it?”

              The frown shifts to surprise and then cheeky glee. “No, it hasn’t.”

              “That’s all I need to hear.”

              Our lips meet in a tender kiss, rallying butterflies in my chest. He’s goofy and ridiculous and not always the smartest person, but Sora is the brightest person I’ve ever met. He’s my sunshine and I’ve never been happier. Knowing that he paused his adventures for me, I can’t even begin to explain how ecstatic—and bashful—that makes me. That emotion reaches my lips through a smile.

              Sora breaks away, mirroring the expression. “What?”

              “You’re amazing, Sora.”

              “Not as amazing as you.” I attempt to hide my face but he’s already caught on. “Aw, you’re blushing. What’s wrong, buttercup?”

              “Sora, stop,” I complain, not great with compliments. Blood is pooling in my cheeks; I can feel it.

              He’s laughing at me. “But you’re so cute.”

              “Sora!”

              Sora pulls my hands from my face, capturing me with those gleaming ocean eyes. “I love you.”

              I huff with a glance away. “I love you too.”

              A firm tug pulls me against his chest. “Good.”

[actual-lea]

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

AO3 | First chapter

The train ride is largely uneventful; Daniel idly taps two fingers against his leg in rhythmic patterns and watches the buildings and trees and countryside fly past in a blur of dull greens and grays. The exact directions from the station are just as much of a blur in his head, but he's sure that he'll know where to go once he arrives, that muscle memory will take over and he'll be on his way in no time at all.

By the third time he wanders back into the station to stare at the map, he's started to doubt that theory.

“Lost?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin and whirls around to face the source of the voice, a tall man in a suit watching him with amusement from behind a pair of thick glasses.

“Uh, y– No. I'm...” Dan gestures helplessly to the map and finally manages to stammer out, “Queen's College.”

The man chuckles and reaches past him to point at a spot on the map. “There,” he says simply, and he takes a small step back as Daniel fumbles with his pack, rummaging around for a pen and scrawling the relevant street names onto his hand. “You a student, then?”

Daniel freezes. “...Yes.” He reaches for a tie that he isn’t wearing and ends up awkwardly fidgeting with the placket of his shirt instead. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Right.” The man clears his throat, like he's covering up another laugh, before he turns to walk away. “Good luck, then.”

Dan waits until he's fully out of sight before letting out a heavy exhale. So much for not drawing attention to himself. He's just being paranoid, of course, and he knows it, but it still takes a not-insignificant amount of willpower to keep himself from hopping the first train back to London and flying far away from here without looking back. Instead, he takes a deep breath and forces his feet to start moving in the right direction, because there's nothing to worry about. He can do this. He can do this.

------

“I can't do this.”

Daniel shakes the man again, uselessly, like he’ll start breathing on his own if he just waits long enough.

“Come on, I can't do this, you have to wake up now.”

He knows what to do in theory, but a single week of CPR training in an undergrad health class, well over a decade ago, hardly qualifies him to actually do it.

“I can't do this, don't make me do this, please don't make me–” He squeezes his eyes shut and drags both hands through his wet hair, twisting his fingers tight to pull at his scalp, and mutters through a quick assortment of curses.

“Okay.” He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath, in and out. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. Okay.” His hands hover nervously over the motionless body beneath him. “Okay...” He tilts the man's head back and concentrates on his own breathing for a few seconds, forcing himself to take steady, even breaths despite the residual burning in his lungs. Finally, he leans down, pinches the man's nose, and directs two of those even breaths into his mouth before sitting back up and placing his hands, left over right, in the middle of his chest.

He counts aloud, his voice unsteady, with each compression. It's almost impossible to keep a consistent pace when the float is constantly moving, rocking from side to side and bobbing unevenly in the waves; he might as well be trying to perform CPR on a waterbed.

He makes it all the way to twenty-eight before he's suddenly pitched forward by a particularly rough wave; he catches himself on the edge of the float as water floods over the top of it and then quickly recedes, nearly dragging the two of them off along with it.

The platform stabilizes after a few more seconds, and Daniel carefully re-situates himself before leaning down to give the man another two lungfuls of air. As he sits up, he checks for a pulse again, holding his breath to stop his fingers from shaking. “I really need you to wake up, now...” He closes his eyes and waits a few more seconds before reluctantly moving his hands back into position.

“One, two, three, four...” He watches the man's head jerk with each push – God, is he even doing this right? – and counts in his head, whispering a breathless mantra to the same rhythm, “Please, let, this, work, please–” –fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen– “Please. Let. This. Work. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Please. Let. This. Work.”

He swallows, and inhales, and bends down for two more breaths, pausing for a moment to catch his own breath in between.

One, two, three... There's an awful sense of dread rising in his chest and clenching tight in his throat; if this doesn't work – if he's doing it wrong or he's not using enough force or maybe if he's using too much force if there is such a thing as too much – if he screws this up, this guy is dead, and he's going to be completely alone out here, in the middle of the Pacific fucking Ocean without so much as a life vest. “Please. Don't. Die. Please. Don't. Die. Please. Don't. Die. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.”

Another breath, and another, and Dan sits up and coughs into his arm. How long is he supposed to keep this up? “Come on, come on...” He runs one shaking hand through his hair to push it out of his face and places his other hand flat on the man's chest to feel for a heartbeat, a breath, anything. “Don't– don't do this, please don't do this.”

Nothing.

He exhales and starts again. “One. Two. Three. Four. Please. Wake. Up. Eight. Nine. Ten.” His arms are aching, already, and breathing isn't getting any easier. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen–

Water explodes out of the man's mouth in a sudden burst, and Dan flinches back, nearly falling off the float. “Whoa–” He slips a hand beneath the man's neck and helps him twist to one side as he chokes, his whole body convulsing violently with the effort. “Hey hey, you're okay, you're okay...”

Finally, he collapses onto his back and starts breathing again; loud, gasping, uneven breaths, but he's breathing.

“It worked,” Daniel says, and he laces his fingers behind his head and laughs. “It actually worked!”

“What...” The man's eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused, and he starts coughing again.

“You're alright. You're alive, and you're gonna be okay.” It's probably not the time or place for it at all, but Daniel can't seem to wipe the triumphant smile off his face.

His gaze finally fixes on Dan, and he blinks a few times. “You, you're...” He gags, and sucks in a sharp breath. “You were on the Zodiac,” he rasps.

“Yeah, I'm–”

He's interrupted by another splash of water from the man's mouth; he moves to help, but quickly backs off as the man grips the edge of the float and leans over to vomit into the ocean.

Daniel exhales. Briefly, he considers trying to reposition himself in such a way that he isn't more or less sitting in this stranger's lap, but it's glaringly obvious that there simply isn't enough room; the float isn't designed to be ridden, after all, so it's hardly large enough for even one person to sit comfortably. Instead, he places his hands on either side of the platform and allows himself a moment to relax, to breathe. His pulse pounds heavy in his ears, still, but it's finally slowing down now that oxygen isn't in such short supply.

After what seems like minutes, the man collapses onto his back again, his chest rising and falling with labored but even breaths. “Daniel, right?”

Dan looks up, surprised, and nods. “Yeah, yeah, that's right.”

“Thought so.” He holds up one hand in a quick wave. “I'm Peter.”

Daniel nods again. “It's– it's nice to meet you. Formally. Uh...” He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry about the, uh. Personal space...situation.”

Peter glances down and laughs, weakly. “Hey, I'm alive, I'm not gonna complain.” Then he squints up at Dan and adds, pointing to his own head. “Y’know you’re bleeding?”

“Oh.” He brings a hand to his forehead, then blinks at the smear of red on his fingers. “That’s…probably alright,” he mumbles, pressing a palm over the sore spot on his temple with a slight wince. “Um. Are you– How are you...feeling?”

Peter closes his eyes and coughs, then swallows with obvious difficulty. “Feel like I scrubbed my throat with sandpaper.” His neck tenses and he moves to sit up, but quickly abandons the motion with a grunt. “And my leg hurts,” he adds, through clenched teeth.

“Oh, uh... Which–” Daniel turns, and the question quickly becomes unnecessary. “Oh.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s…” He tries to keep the panic out of his voice as he loosens his tie with one hand. “It’ll be okay.” He wraps the tie around the bloodiest part of Peter's leg and pulls it tight, careful not to jostle the thick piece of metal buried in the skin just above his knee. “Just...try to stay still, okay?”

Peter doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway and stares up at the sky with a small cough as Dan lets out a shaky sigh, his excitement from before finally dampened by the reality of their situation setting in.

“Daniel?”

“Hmm?”

“I gotta ask you somethin'.”

Anxiety jolts through him at those words, just out of habit. “Yeah...?”

Peter coughs again and clears his throat. “I know that there was an explosion, and I got thrown in the water, and I just drowned and was maybe dead for a second and everything, so I'm probably just crazy or remembering it wrong, but...” He pushes himself up on one elbow to squint at Dan. “Did the island...disappear?”

“Well...” Daniel exhales, and lets out a single breathless laugh. “Good news and bad news,” he says, and he looks out at the empty horizon, blinking against the too-bright sunlight reflecting off the waves. “Good news, you're not crazy. Bad news...you're not crazy.” He turns back to Peter. “The island is gone.”

He sighs, and relaxes, resting his head on the surface of the float. “Super.” He coughs a few more times and closes his eyes. “Now what?”

Daniel looks around; the largest remnants of the Kahana are barely visible now, almost entirely submerged in the distance. There's still a considerable amount of debris around them, floating in bits and pieces, but nothing that looks particularly useful.

And here and there among the wreckage, he can see a few bodies – or pieces thereof – bobbing in the waves, most of them facedown and all of them motionless.

He tries not to look too closely at those.

“We need to find where the helicopter crashed,” he states, and he looks down at Peter. “It– It was still in the air after the island moved, so it must have just gone down somewhere. There should have been a life raft aboard, and if there are any survivors, that's where we want to be. And even if– if no one made it out, the raft should still be there regardless.” He scratches his head and shrugs a bit. “Either way, it's our best chance.”

“What, and leave all this luxury behind?” Peter waves a hand to their surroundings with something between a smile and a grimace.

Daniel laughs a little as he scans the horizon to the east, toward where the island used to be, guesstimating the distance to the helicopter based on his brief glimpse of it from earlier. “Looked like two, maybe three miles, you think?” He pauses, then adds, “I guess you're not gonna be able to swim, huh,” and it's not really a question.

“No.” Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“It's– Hey, don't worry about it, alright? It's not a problem, I just... I need a minute to catch my breath, first.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I am not, exactly, the most fantastic swimmer in the world.”

“If you...” Peter begins quietly. “If you have to leave me behind, I wouldn't hold it against you.”

Daniel blinks, and turns to face him. “Oh... No. No, I'm not doing that.”

“Oh, thank God, because I didn't really mean it,” he says in a rush, visibly relieved.

“Yeah, no, I'm...” Daniel shakes his head. “And besides–” He places one hand on the side of the float. “I'm gonna need this anyway, for breaks.”

“What, you mean you don't wanna swim three miles without stopping?”

He chuckles and gestures to himself. “I know, I definitely look like the super athletic type, don't I?”

Peter's laugh turns into a string of coughs. “So, once we make it to the raft,” he says after catching his breath, and then, “If we make it to the raft... What then?”

“I don't know.” Daniel swallows. “I don't really...have a plan, after that, but...”

Peter nods slowly. “Might as well die on a raft instead of a box,” he sighs.

“Something like that.” Dan looks out over the waves again with a heavy exhale. It's not going to get any closer; if anything, it might be drifting further away while he wastes time. “Okay,” he says finally, shrugging off his backpack. “Would you mind, uh...”

“Got it.” Peter takes the pack and hooks an arm through the straps as Dan carefully lowers himself into the warm water.

The rope attached to the perimeter of the float provides an easy handhold, and Daniel loops it around his wrist to secure it, then pauses and turns back toward Peter. “East, right?” He points, not trusting his own sense of direction, especially with the disorienting waves all around.

Peter cranes his neck to find the afternoon sun, still high in the sky but slowly setting in the opposite direction, and gives a confident nod. “Right.”

And Daniel takes a deep breath and starts swimming.

(next chapter)

[bluemoonbeam15]

CTA: Hopper

CTA is short for Cognitive Task Analysis. It's essentially a method of unravelling the inner workings of a person's mind and seeing how their thoughts affect their actions.

I'm starting with Hopper -- obviously -- because he isn't given much, if any, backstory in the entire movie. His actions were written purposefully for the audience to not feel any remorse for his demise. If he had been given a backstory, there would probably be more people who could defend his actions, which isn't what the directors wanted.

However, just by analyzing his dialogue and actions -- no matter how small of screen-time -- we can get a rough sketch of his true personality.

I've spent the last hour completing the 16Personlaties test online and reading through the results. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it's a website that has you go through a series of questions and by the end of it presents you with whichever personality type your responses most align with.

To the best of my ability, I have gone through each question and replayed Hopper's scenes in my mind to get a feel of how he would've answered them. The results showed him to be an ISTJ-A.

I = Introverted (52%)

S = Observant (95%)

T = Thinking (98%)

J = Judging (78%)

A = Assertive (69%)

I'll put a link to the website at the end of this post so any of you who are interested can read through it. This will also be the site I use for the other characters I analyze.

So since the link is available -- and the personalities can be read about, anywhere -- I will give my reasoning for how the result above fits his character.

BY THE WAY, NONE OF THIS IS CANON. I AM NOT STATING FOR A FACT THAT THIS IS HOPPER IN HIS ENTIRETY. IT'S ALL SPECULATION DRAWN FROM SMALL AMOUNTS OF EVIDENCE.

First off, let me brag on him for a moment for his incredible work. I know he's the bad guy and all, but let's give the man some credit. Only extremely powerful people in human history were able to convince a whole nation of people that they were in the right. Hitler, being one of those people.

While Hitler obviously did unforgivable things, everything he did was done thoughtfully and carefully. He analyzed the people, the children, and understood how their minds worked. This is what Hopper does in the movie.

By the time we are invited into this world, Hopper has already established a system within the colony. Despite not holding any true authority in their own monarchy, he had managed to set himself above the Queen. Even she is in fear of his capabilities and fights to keep him appeased.

He also manages to uphold his authority within his own gang. The fact that none of them -- aside from Molt -- have the boldness to question his decisions speaks volumes about how assertive he is.

But the only way he can keep his position is by applying his cognitive talents. We see in the movie that Hopper doesn't take the details for granted. He remarks that Atta didn't smell like the Queen -- implying he took note of which ant was in leadership. When he first lays eyes on Flik, he watches the ant's demeanor and takes in every detail. This allows him to recognize Flik when he reveals himself from the fake bird near the end of the movie. When the Circus Bugs arrive while Hopper is at Ant Island, he notices the empty box by the end of their act and demands to know where the Queen is.

We can even see that in almost every scene he is in, he does more observing than talking. In the beginning, he walks around and takes note of the ant's countenance around him, looking for any sign of rebellion as the source of his missing offering. He watches Atta carefully as she tries to explain that Flik is the reason it's missing. After punching the random gang member instead of Molt, he looks around at the colony to take in their reaction and adjusts himself accordingly. When Molt comes to tell him his "great idea," Hopper doesn't immediately rant off. Instead, he watches his brother carefully as he advances and takes in the sincerity and fear of Molt explaining himself.

As he walks around The Resort, addressing his gang, his eyes are pinpointing every grasshopper until they land on the three at the bar. He makes offhanded remarks and observes how the three react suspiciously overly supportive. By the time he lets them have it, he watches the grain fall and proceeds to keep his eye on every member as he makes his speech. When they get to the Island, Hopper manages to pinpoint the Queen in the midst of the crowd of ants. As the Circus Bugs first reenter the scene, Hopper silently follows his gaze as they pull up in front. Not once does he say a word until they make themselves fully shown. When the pill bugs appear, he watches them for a good while before finally allowing the Circus Bugs to entertain them.

Throughout their performance, Hopper is silently watching -- maybe laughing once during the entire ordeal. You can especially see it when Manny offers to let the Queen be a part of the performance and Hopper follows his every move as he does so.

As he gives his speech to the ants, he walks around and makes it a point to make eye contact with as many as he can. He observes their gradual return to submission. When Flik speaks up again, Hopper does not yell, summon Thumper, or try to interrupt him at all. He advances -- like he did Molt -- and observes how the ant will react to his closing proximity. It's almost as if he's gauging how much damage has been done to his influence before he decides on which course of action to take. In fact, for the remainder of the movie, Hopper maintains this way of decision-making. While in the canon, he's keeping his eye on Flik. When it rains, he pinpoints Flik in the crowd.

When he lands in front of Flik by the bird's nest, he begins advancing again and uses that time of observation to unsettle the ant. While Hopper uses analyzation as a way to base his decisions, he also uses it as a way to unsettle his opposition. In nearly every situation he quietly observes, the adversary becomes nervous and backs away. They mess up on their train of thought, try to explain themselves, or beg for mercy. It's more than Hopper looking intimidating, it's the way he looks at them to make them feel transparent. As if he knows every little thing about them, and in a way, he kind of does from the time he's observed.

The only hole in this is when the real bird finally makes an appearance and Hopper is so caught up in his rage of the previous bird that he neglects to fully analyze the creature before him. Of course, let's also take into account that he is blind in one eye, it's dark and raining, and his perception of reality has been slightly altered thanks to the fake bird from earlier. In his defense, he had good reason to believe the bird before him was also a fake.

His observations play hand-in-hand with his tendency to base his decisions on rationality rather than emotion. As well as being more judging than perceiving. For the record, the word "judging" in this sense is not used in a social manner. It is being able to make faster-paced decisions and to stick by them. People who are judging will be clean-cut and look presentable to others as a means of influencing others to agree with their steadfast decisions.

As also mentioned, Hopper does not act on his emotions. You can base an alternative opinion saying, "Oh, but he gets mad and threatens his brother," or, "what about when he killed those three grasshoppers?" and so on. However, acting on your emotions and acting on rationale are two different things. They look different too.

Consider this: had Hopper, the moment Molt opened his mouth, yelled or swung a punch at him, then he would then have acted on his emotions. Had he outright put those three grasshoppers in their place instead of going through the foreplay, he would have acted on his emotions. Flik was also not immediately killed when he first spoke up and when he continued to defy Hopper. Even at the end of the movie, when the real bird appears, Hopper halts his strangling long enough to realize that the bird is real.

After re-watching the movie with these characteristics in mind, it doesn't seem like there is one time where he acts on his emotions. Impulsively, is one way to put it. He never acts on impulse. Every move is calculated according to how he needs the situation to play out in his favor. Perhaps the only time he acts on emotions is when he punches the nearby grasshopper instead of his brother. And, even then, he lets enough rationality in to redirect his anger onto someone else.

Now let's dive more onto the hidden side of Hopper the movie doesn't shed much light on.

Despite giving off this hard, rough exterior, we know that the gang he surrounds himself with was on purpose. While he probably gathered them for the sake of enforcing the ants more into submission, I think it might be safe to say that they're there for his own mental stability. Let's be clear, Hopper doesn't need them to accomplish his goals. Flik doesn't spare a glance at the other grasshoppers once Hopper comes into the hill. All eyes are on him. Even when Hopper has taken control of the Island, Atta and Phyllis are constantly glancing to see his reactions.

It's especially significant when Atta notices Flik and the girls climbing the tree to the bird and the only grasshopper she looks at to see if they noticed is Hopper. Because in the grand scheme of things, his awareness of the situation is what will make or break their plan.

Notice with me too that the other gang members have the IQ of a rock. Any opinion they have is shown to be based on little to no evidence. And although they were on the right track to not go back to the Island -- which ends up being one of Hopper's downfalls -- they didn't necessarily understand the true power the ants could have over them. Basically, their desire to stay the The Resort was not based on truth but more their own personal wishes.

Personally, I believe that Hopper only keeps them -- and Molt -- around for the sake of keeping himself distracted. With his observations, it can be seen that he does more time thinking rather than acting. Imagine having a whole colony under your control and your mind running 24/7 to maintain that power. Imagine how stressful it has to be for him to know that in a single instance, all that work he put into molding the colony could be in vain. No wonder he needs some time alone for a massage.

But then imagine having others around you to keep your mind off of those stressors and anxieties. With the gang partying and having a good time, it would be hard for Hopper to dwell on all the ways everything could go wrong. I believe that's why he keeps Molt around. Hopper never said he promised their mother he'd let him join the gang, or that he'd watch him 24/7. He merely stated he promised not to kill Molt.

Molt is simply that happy-go-lucky persona that Hopper can not only release his stress on, but also someone who can distract him from everything storming within his own mind. It may seem in the movie like he's a lazy freeloader who uses the ants to avoid doing any work himself, but let's look at it this way:

> He's "babysitting" his brother constantly

> He has to travel a great distance back and forth at least once a year for the offering

> In that little time he sees the colony, he has to assert his authority to keep them obedient

> He has to keep his own gang members submissive

> It seems that he also runs (or at least co-runs) The Resort

> Just as all insects do, he has to protect himself, his gang, and his brother from bigger predators

Most of these have a lot of psychological weight that would wear Hopper out with all the stress it adds on to him. There's so much responsibility that has not only been forced on him, but also ones he's chosen to take. And some of those responsibilities were chosen for the sake of distracting him from everything else. It's a vicious cycle that he's gotten caught in where he ends up putting more on his plate than he can handle, all in a vain attempt to have something to redirect his attention from his other anxieties.

Hopper has a very self-destructive mindset in this term. It ends up getting to the point where, by the end of the movie, when everything begins to unravel before him, his anxieties kick in and he doesn't know how to handle it. He's spent so long trying to avoid those fears that he never established an escape for them other than the other self-destructive behaviors. He never found the right way out of his own torment.

In reality he influenced himself to be subdued just as much as he had the ants. He has convinced himself that he is weaker when mulling over his anxieties and letting his emotions get out of control. Therefore, he's put chains on them and has put an emotional muzzle on himself. And all of it is in an attempt to stay rational and maintain his position. In a way, Hopper has become so skilled at overpowering others that he has subconsciously overpowered himself. He's convinced himself that he is who he wants to be. He wants to be in control, calm, collected, strong, and powerful. And he has convinced himself to believe that he can be all those things so long as he pushes back the characteristics and emotions that would hold him back.

And he reflects this inner pain on the ants as he convinces them to be what he wants them to be. Submissive, mindless, fearful, and obedient. And so long as he pushes back the ideas and rebellion, they can be all those things.

If any of you want me to continue this analysis -- God knows there's still more to unpack about his personality -- feel free to ask! I will be doing the other characters (Flik is next).

Here is the link to the website I used:

https://www.16personalities.com/istj-personality

[metamelonisle]

super sonic HC: the chaos emeralds are mysterious gemstones of untold power. As such, they have the potential for great acts of creation, as well as great acts of destruction. Because Sonic has such a strong love of life, the chaos emeralds grant him the ultimate tool for preserving it: an invincible, golden form, brimming with life energy and speed. 

Super Sonic’s aura, born of his desire to protect life at all costs, and his incredible willpower, naturally enhances life around him. Wounds will heal, soil will become fertile, plants will grow at his feet. The power of Super Sonic, much like the emeralds, is tied to his emotions. The more intense they get, the stronger the aura is. Trees will grow from seed to maturity in seconds. Even ruined, salted, dried up soil, gone over with toxins and concrete, will break through and become rolling green plains once more. Entire limbs will grow back. Impossible recoveries from injuries thought fatal happen within mere moments. He’s a golden miracle... right?

However, the Chaos Emeralds are considered to be extremely dangerous and volatile for a reason, no matter who’s hands they’re in. The Master Emerald’s purpose in stabilizing them is very important. Sonic may be a paragon of justice and self-appointed protector of life, but he’s still a kid. Fast and strong as he may be, that’s a lot of unregulated power coursing through one guy. It’s not too much of a stretch to assume Super Sonic isn’t exactly the most rational guy, especially when it comes down to his core belief. Protecting life.

When Super Sonic hits his limit, when he’s as angry as can possibly be, when he’s at his absolute most powerful, that’s when things go wrong. Plants begin to grow out of control, destroying buildings and potentially harming others or each other. Simple bacteria begin to mutate at an alarming rate, growing into deadly diseases. Within a certain distance of this Golden Nightmare, death is impossible, down to the cellular level. And when no cell can die, but must still reproduce anyways... 

It’s not pretty.

Of course, there is a flipside to this. The Master Emerald, the massive gemstone that keeps Angel Island floating in the sky, is a relic created by ancient forces to act as a counterbalance to the energy of the emeralds. When the emeralds are united with their stabilizer, their energy is organized and regulated, not only making them safer to use, but even more powerful. When Sonic taps into the power of the super emeralds, he is seemingly regifted his old, volatile form. But this is not the case, for this energy is perfectly attuned to Sonic’s mind and body! As the almighty Hyper Sonic, he is even faster, stronger, and more powerful than before, but as the energy flowing through him is regulated and balanced out by the Master Emerald, his mind is now clear. Fueled by the balance of positive and negative energies, Sonic now understands that while Life is important and needs protecting, Death is equally important and must continue to exist to keep everything in order. They are not two warring factions, but merely two sides of the same coin. 

Hyper Sonic, in his level of control and precision, is able to fix life in the way his Super form could not. He is able to revitalize life without letting it grow out of control and hurt itself accidentally. He can heal wounds without fear of infection, or overgrowth. He can take down toxic, polluting, destructive factories with ease and let Mother Nature reclaim it all without hurting the surrounding communities. With the Master Emerald stabilizing his mind, he is in control. He’s still a kid, yes, but Sonic’s exceptionally bright for someone in his mid-teens! He’s still quite capable. Powered by the Super Emeralds, Hyper Sonic is not just Nature’s revenge, but its champion.

[darling-i-read-it]

Comfort

Will Graham x reader

Word Count: 1.2k 

Warnings: talks of murder, mental health issues, spoliers for hannibal 

Author’s Note: Writing for Will is not only fun but its therapeutic and also everything I write for him seems to be him being comforted and happy because its what he deserves 

Summary: based around season 1 episode 10 mostly Wills health 

Genre: angsty fluff

Song: the night we met by lord huron 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

“Can I speak with you?” 

You looked up at Hannibal who was giving you a look that you didn’t like. You weren’t a fan of that face. You could tell that something was wrong and the only thing you and Hannibal really had in common was your boyfriend Will. Which made you extra worried when he asked to speak.

“Sure.”

You stood up from your seat, leaving Jack and a few others who were in a conversation. Will had gone to the bathroom which gave Hannibal an out to talk to you alone without raising suspicions. You were all having dinner at Hannibal's home, celebrating a win on a case that had been particularly hard.

You followed him into the kitchen and he leaned against the counter.

“You know that Will is sleep walking,” You nodded stiffly, mentally preparing yourself for anything that you didn’t know about Will that you were about to be told.

“Hannibal if this could break patient confidentiality I don’t-”

“It doesn’t.” You nodded and clutched the ends of the island, your knuckles white.

“I’m worried about his state. I figure you know enough about his behavior to know that what Jack Crawford wants from him is not something he is prepared to give, mentally.” You nodded.

“I’ve tried to talk him out of it-”

“I’m leaning on the edge here but I need to show you this.” He grabbed a notebook on his counter and brought it over to you, opening it to a specific page. “I asked him to draw me a clock.”

You looked down at it, number strewn, nothing in the right spot inside the circle. You put it down carefully, staring as though you couldn’t quite understand even though you understood perfectly. 

“Hannibal…” 

“I’m telling you this because he trusts you.” “He trusts you too,” you muttered.

“He trusts you more than anyone else. He trusts you to live with him. He trusts you to be there when he comes home. If anyone can cushion his time until I figure out how to properly deal with the problems it’s you.” 

You shut the book slowly and nodded. The two of you simply stood there for a moment in secret as though you had shared a big secret and you supposed he had. The real truth on what you knew Will was going through.

You handed him the notebook back and walked back to the dining room. Will had returned and he looked fidgety, not having you or Hannibal there. Something was bothering him but the second you and his friend walked back into the room. You gave him a smile and he gave you a strained one back.  

You walked over and sat down beside him, putting your hand on his knee. He placed his hand on top of yours and you squeezed.

“Wanna go?” you whispered. He nodded. He had only just told you that he was losing time and often you wondered if in the moment you were beside him he was on autopilot. The way his eyes were now, you knew he was with you. He just wanted to be gone.

“Lets,” he muttered.

You gave Hannibal a look and he nodded, smiling at Will.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded. 

“7:30 on the dot.” 

“Of course. It was nice seeing you too Y/N,” Hannibal said, shaking your hand. You nodded and in your eyes you thanked him for the information he had shared.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

It was a long drive back to Will’s but you spent most of it in silence, the music from the radio playing softly in the car. Will watched the trees as you drove up to his house. You were both quickly greeted by the dogs whom you petted softly. 

Both of you started to get ready for bed but it was itching at you. Wondering where he was.

“Will?” You peeked your head into the bathroom where he threw on a shirt. 

He gestured for you to come in and you did, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. He relaxed into your touch as you stared at each other in the mirror.

“You feeling okay?” you whispered. He scoffed.

“Sure.” 

“Really.” He escaped your grap and walked in the bedroom, sitting on the bed. You followed him but stood a few feet away, against the wall.

“It’s been rough. In my head,” he told you. You nodded.

“Is there anything I can do?” He shook his head. “You wanna talk about it?” He took a deep breath and you walked over to him, putting your hand on his.

“I lose track of time, like I told you. I just don’t know how to…” He tried to find the words. “Feel stable.” You nodded. “Sometimes I see the bodies and wonder if I did it. I know I didn’t but it feels like I did.” 

  You turned to him and grabbed both his hands.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It isn’t your fault,” he told you, fidgeting.

“I just want you to know that you’re my best friend and I’m sorry that you ever feel that way.” He put your head on his shoulder and you put an arm protectively around him. “And I love you and I will do anything I can to make you feel stable,” you whispered. 

He buried his head in your neck and breathed heavily. You thought he might cry. You put your feet up on the bed and held him for a moment as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. Stability. 

Will Graham was in desperate need of stability.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“You won’t go? Even if I’m..” he thought about his wording, “..wrong in the head.” You shook your head.

“I would never.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on you. 

“Let’s sleep,” he whispered. You nodded and brushed his hair out of his face before getting under the covers. Usually because of his dreams the two of you weren’t near each other when you slept but tonight was an exception. Stability.

Will outstretched his arm and you rested your head on it so that your faces were level. You smiled gently at him and he kissed you gently once.

You both closed your eyes shortly after, tangled in each other falling asleep.

[yodawgiherd]

You Were Never Truly Gone ch.5

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Back to plotting.... The pacing is much faster than the previous chapters, but I meant it when I said that this will not be a long work. Just a few more.

Just like the year before the Paradis shore was slowly but surely appearing from behind the horizon. Armin was watching, again, albeit this time he had a cigarette in his hand, not a feather. Taking a drag from it, he felt the smoke filling his lungs. A dreadful habit picked up from Pieck, but the life of a diplomat was a stressful one, and smoking helped.

Especially stressful when the leaders hated each other and the man who flattened eighty percent of the world was secretly alive. Armin couldn’t even count how many times Eren’s name was brought up during the discussions. He was no longer a person, he was an entity - the devil, blamed for each and every bad occasion that happened.

Did the crops die? Damn Eren Yeager.

Are there floods? Damn Eren Yeager.

Then again, if there was one thing that Eren could legitimately be blamed for, it was the Yeagerists. Those were the worst to deal with because their aggressive expansion politics couldn’t be reasoned with. From the letters Armin exchanged with Historia, he knew that the queen was growing more oppressed every single day, the soldiers from Hizuru that used to keep the balance disappearing back into their home country. Kiyomi’s chokehold on Paradis’ stability was an eternal thorn in Armin’s side because he couldn’t see a solution. The old woman would not haggle, didn’t care, all she wanted was Mikasa.

Which was quite a problem, because as far as Armin knew the former soldier had no reason to leave her cabin. She had a home, the love of her life back, and overall was the happiest she ever was, judging from her letters.

Cursing his bad luck and stubbornness of others, Armin threw the burning cigarette into the ocean.

“That was a waste.”, Pieck appeared next to him, her mouth also occupied by one.

“I guess…”

“Tsk.”, she held out her pack, offering the blond a new smoke, “you’re lucky I stashed enough for us both.”

“Why?”

“Jean started smoking too.”

With a chuckle Armin took one, letting Pieck light it up for him, and then they were standing together on the deck and puffed against the wind.

“Are you sure that you want to come with us?”, he asked, knowing that she was far from happy about Eren’s resurrection, “You could stay in the city with Historia.”

“Right, because the sudden change of my routine after four years won’t be suspicious at all.”

“I don’t think people would know that Eren came back from you not visiting Mikasa once…”

“It’s a risk I’m not willing to take, and neither is Reiner.”, she snickered, “Despite how terrified he is of the Ackerman girl.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly smart, threatening Mikasa’s happiness the second it came back to her.”

“Still, he had a point.”, Pieck let out a long grey strip, “I know that, you know that, everyone knows that.”

“We can find a solution.”

“I have one.”

“Yours is killing Eren, right?”

“Exactly!”, Pieck’s fist hit the railing, “Kill him properly this time, bury the body under that damn tree and be done with it. With him gone, Ackerman is free to go to Hizuru, and Kiyomi will renew her support of Historia. Then she can put Yeagerists on a leash and we can work from there!”

It was hard to not see Pieck as a villain after this speech, yet Armin knew that she is only pragmatic. Her solution was the logical one, easiest to execute, but it required him to do something he would never stain his hands with.

“You would hurt Mikasa like this? After what she’s done for us all?”

The next words that left Pieck’s lips were soft yet determined.

“The happiness of a one woman is nothing compared to the happiness of the world.”

Taking the last drag, Armin threw the butt into the ocean, turning to face Pieck head-on.

“That’s where you are wrong. It’s everything.”

She sighed and Armin left, leaving her alone at the railing. The shores of Paradis grew ever so closer…

One of the many things that Mikasa enjoyed in their intimacy was this – taking a bath together. Admittedly the bathtub was a bit cramped, now that Eren was sitting behind her, but she would never trade the heat of his body for the additional space. He was working on her too, currently washing her hair, fingers gently threading through the long raven strands.

Eren had a thing for her long hair, it would seem, the way it flowed behind her anytime Mikasa undid her ponytail fascinated him. The sun could cast such beautiful shine into the midnight cascade, it made his eyes go wide in wonder. Even now he was moving slow, clearly not rushing anywhere, enjoying the activity almost as much as Mikasa.

“Armin will be here in a few hours.”, she reminded him, but didn’t open her eyes, “We should get a move on.”

“Hmmm.”, a kiss on her bare shoulder, followed by a whisper, “I don’t think I can do that.”

But Mikasa should be the strict one, so she turned in the tub, water splashing and Eren making an “Ouch” sound when her wet hair whipped his face.

“We really have to get out.”, to sweeten the deal, she kissed his nose, “Can fool around after…”

With that promise, Eren was willing to leave the bath and soon after they were sitting together at the outside table, waiting for the familiar faces. Those appeared quick, even faster than expected.

“You guys are here early!”, Mikasa exclaimed, standing up to greet them.

“You know how it is, Reiner had no more letters to sniff.”, Connie joked, poking the large blond in the shoulder.

“Sod off…”, Reiner pushed him away, but Jean replaced Connie immediately.

“Don’t sulk, maybe we can ask the queen to write us a new one, so you won’t be alone at night.”

Reiner growled, eyeing Jean with disgust and Pieck had to step in, pulling her grinning boyfriend away.

After the initial catching up, Armin asked if they could go inside for a talk, one that was meant only for the three of them. Or four, since Annie tagged along, and no one questioned it.

It was just the four of them in the cabin, sitting around the table - time to truly discuss what to do with Eren, what to do with this crazy thing that happened and that blissful dream Mikasa and him were enjoying for a year.

“I thought this through,”, Armin began, “And I think that the best we can do is…”

“Wait a second,” Mikasa interrupted him, “hear me out first.”

Giving her the needed space, the blond nodded at her. And just like that, Mikasa dropped the biggest bomb he could ever imagine.

“Me and Eren, we are going to Hizuru.”

“No! You are crazy!”, Armin almost shouted, “How do you think that would even work?”

“It’s an isolated country, and the Hizurian people don’t know how Eren looks like.”, Mikasa explained, calmly for a change, “Sure, they know of the devil and the rumbling, but they have no idea what his appearance is.”

“Kiyomi does!”

“I can deal with Kiyomi, I have a plan.”

“Then, would you be so kind and share it with us?”, Annie asked, mirroring Mikasa’s calmness.

And she did. She told them what she planned to do, making Armin gape at her while Annie chuckled, nodding along. Eren wasn’t sure how to react. It sounded crazy, but also somewhat logical, and did he have a different choice? The way Armin painted it, there was no place in the world where he could live without being pursued, and unless Mikasa did something Paradis would turn into a warmongering nation, as soon as Kiyomi withdrew her support.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”, Armin confessed when the raven finished, “I have tried a hundred different scenarios but the best I could come up with was you two running away and leaving Paradis to fend for itself.”

“We don’t want that.”, Mikasa said, “We didn’t run away before, we won’t do it now.”

“The rumbling was supposed to be the last war.”, Eren agreed, “If this plan can help us achieve that dream, I will go with what Mikasa proposed.”

“Oh please.”, Annie shook her head, “As if you could say no to her.”

Eren blushed, Armin laughed, and Mikasa smiled and patted her boyfriend affectionally.

When no one took the word, Annie continued, laying their cards on the table.

“Let's go over what they can do then – Option 1, they stay here, Kiyomi goes back to Hizuru, Yeagerists take over the government and start planning their global supremacy. Realizing that a retired Ackerman is living on the island, they come knocking on Mikasa’s door, only to find their war god alive and happy. Global fun ensues. Option 2, They run somewhere far away, settle and live together. Yeagerists still take over because Kiyomi will leave, and this Island becomes a death trap. Option 3, We go with Mikasa’s plan – it’s crazy, but it's that crazy that it might just work.

Silence ruled afterward. When Annie reached out and Armin held her hand, Mikasa noticed the lack of ring on the man’s fingers.

“Wait, you guys didn’t marry yet?”

“There was no time!”, Armin explained, “All we do is work, work, and more work…”

“And when he doesn’t work,”, Annie supplemented, “He’s sketching a map and trying to find a location where Eren could disappear to.”

“Mikasa’s plan foiling your hard work?”, the resurrected devil asked.

“It’s risky. I know that it can work but…, but you have no idea if it is a long-time solution. What if someone notices you? What if….”

“Don’t steer away from the topic.”, Mikasa interjected, “A year of engagement and no marriage?”

Armin and Annie exchanged a look, both shrugging.

“Then, why don’t you do it now?”, the raven continued.

Now the engaged couple was staring at her.

“What?”, they asked in unison.

“Here, in Paradis. Have a small wedding, invite a few people you know….”

“We could use it to show Eren to the few people that we trust.”, Armin began but was quickly smacked by Annie.

“Do NOT make OUR wedding about your friend.”

“Right… sorry.”

“It is the perfect excuse though.”, Mikasa defended Armin’s point, “We can’t travel the world.”

Annie looked at Eren and seeing the silent begging in his face she sighed and surrendered. He died for them; this was the least she could do to pay him back.

“Fine, let’s use my own damn wedding to help you. Who do we invite?”

It was Armin’s turn to look surprised.

“Wait, are we seriously doing this?”

“Why not? We are engaged for a year. What better time there is but present?”

When Annie made a decision, it was quickly followed by action. Soon enough, there was a list of people who could be invited and that Eren wanted to meet, rather short but that was quite understandable. And just like that, the preparations began.

A week. That was all Annie needed. Together with Pieck, who turned out to be an incredibly efficient planning genius, they set up everything while Armin and the others hung around Paradis, unsure what was even going on.

Yet the more Armin walked around the city, the more he could feel the tension in the air. Yeagerists were truly almost everywhere, and with no Hizuru army to control them they were growing bolder too. He could see the posters on the walls, calling for the replacement of the “fake” queen, calls to arms, and notes of Paradis supremacy. Something had to change, otherwise there would be hell to pay.

Even with his own wedding coming, it managed to sour his mood.

Eren and Mikasa were back at the cabin for most of the time. Sure, she did go out a few times with Annie to help her, pick out a dress and whatnot, but most of the time it was Pieck’s show. That woman was a machine. On the morning of the wedding, there was a crate at the cabin’s door with a note, stating that Mikasa should put this on before going to the ceremony. Opening it, the former soldier saw that it was a red dress, high heeled shoes and some jewelry, overall things that Mikasa did not own.

“I don’t think that I’ve ever seen you in a dress this pretty before.”

“I didn’t have a reason to wear one.”, Mikasa agreed, fixing her hair in the mirror.

Heavy steps behind her, and suddenly Eren’s hands were at her waist, possessively circling it.

“Makes me want to tear it right off of you.”, he growled into her ear, kissing it after.

“T-That can wait…”, she stuttered, fighting her own treacherous body as she gently pushed him away, “After the ceremony.”

The touch disappeared, and the chair creaked as Eren sat down, admiring her beauty from a short distance.

“Sucks that I can’t be there to see Armin say his “Yes, I do.”

“I know, but he was right. No matter how hard we would try to mask you, people would notice, especially if you were with me for the evening.”

She walked over to him, a bit unsure in those heeled shoes, bending over to kiss him.

“Behave. Once it's over, we will bring the people here so you can meet them.”

“Don’t worry. I and Yams will survive without you somehow.”, squeezing her hands, Eren blessed her with a radiant smile, “You go have fun.”

With a last wave and a kiss, she was indeed gone, leaving Eren alone for what felt like the first time since he came back. Putting his hands in the pockets, he walked over to where Yams was, studying it. The animal looked him straight in the eye, not flinching even when he leaned closer.

“You know, sometimes I think that you are more than just a goat.”

Yams didn’t say anything, surprisingly, chewing the hay.

The wedding was short but sweet, the view of the ocean being everything Armin dreamed of. Annie was given away by her sobbing father, and Mikasa was Armin’s best “man”, stunning in the red dress Pieck got her. Yet it didn’t matter how she looked, because the blond’s eyes were solely for the woman in white. It felt like a dream when they recited their vows, and as Armin slid the ring on Annie’s finger, he considered himself the happiest man alive.

Any worry about world peace, any thought about Eren, anything and everything just flew right out of his head, because it didn’t matter. The world narrowed down to Annie’s smile, and Armin was more than okay with that.

A kiss and they were bound together forever, the cheers loud enough to scare all the birds in the vicinity. The queen handed Ymir over to her husband, clapping and jumping up and down in glee, ignoring the looks the bodyguards shot her way.

Jean also had tears in his eyes, unsure of what came over him. Connie teased him for it but Pieck simply smiled, wrapping him in a hug. It felt unreal to watch his friend and comrade marry the woman they used to fight, their sworn enemy. Yet here they were, any sort of hatred between them forgotten in favor of their love, and he thought that it was beautiful. And looking down at Pieck, Jean knew how Armin felt.

With the ceremony over, the celebration began, taking place on a few tables that were brought out. The evening progressing, Levi was the first who Mikasa approached, saying that she needs to discuss something with the old soldier. She pushed the wheelchair herself because both Gabi and Falco were enjoying the reception, heading towards her cabin. It wasn’t that far but not too close either, yet Levi was silent the whole journey, most likely thinking that whatever she wanted to talk about could wait. Yams watched them approach with his usual interested look as if she knew what was going on.

When the cabin door opened and Eren came out, Levi’s expression froze.

“Hello sir.”, the dead man said, coming to stand in front of him.

That was when Levi took a deep breath. And spoke.

“Eren, my kicking days are sadly over, but I’m now going to stand up and punch you in the face.”, his eyes were cold as he spoke, “Do you have a problem with that?”

Eren back straightened.

“No sir.”

“Good.”

With a scramble of wood against the grass, Levi pushed himself upright with the cane, taking a few steps towards him. He was old and crippled, Eren reasoned, there was no way that….

The punch threw him on the ground, the taste of blood filling his mouth.

“This is far from what you deserve, but it will do for now.”, Levi stated, shuffling back towards the wheelchair.

Mikasa was watching but didn’t intervene, knowing that despite how much she loved Eren, he deserved this. On his own, the former devil pushed himself back to his feet, studying Levi’s unchanging expression.

“I take it that you are not that happy to see me?”

“Happy? No.”, his hands clenched the wheelchair, “You’ve done terrible things Eren, and I hold no love for you. Unlike Mikasa, I think that you should have stayed dead, and if it wasn’t for how much she adores you I would put you in the ground. I don’t know how you came back and frankly, I don’t care, but you don’t deserve it. You have taken too much from the world…”

Erwin, Hange

“Too much from me.”

His eyes shifted to Mikasa.

“You believe that what you two have is special, but how many young lovers were trampled beneath the rumbling? How many lives were lost?”, icy gaze slid back to Eren, “I can’t forgive you. Maybe in time, but not now. Definitely not now.”

With that, he wheeled himself away, heading back towards the celebration, where Gabi and Falco were. The girl was describing something loudly, waving her hands while the boy looked on, a faint glint of adoration in his eyes. But after today, Levi was sick of love.

“Hey brats!”, he called them, “Get me out of here.”

They moved immediately, taking hold of his chair and pushing him back towards the city.

“What did Mikasa want captain?”, Gabi asked, energetic as ever, “Was it important?”

“No. She just… We….”, Levi clenched his teeth against the feeling, “She opened some old wounds, that’s all.”

Gods damn you Eren. If you ever make her unhappy, I will kill you myself.

Queen Reiss was a bit more difficult to separate from her guards, but when Mikasa asked if they could talk, just the two of them, she turned towards the black-suited men with a raised eyebrow.

“I believe that I will be quite safe with a legendary soldier like Mikasa, an Ackerman too. Take a small break.”

With that, she hoisted her daughter up and smiled.

“Lead the way.”

The guards obeyed, knowing better than to try and argue. So, Mikasa led the queen to her cabin, the door creaking open when Eren stepped out.

“The worst girl in the world,”, he greeted the blonde with a crooked smile, “It’s good to see you.”

Historia exploded into tears the second she saw him. She handed little Ymir to Mikasa and hugged him, sobbing into Eren’s chest in a very unqueenlike manner.

But when they tried showing the child to Eren, she hid behind Mikasa and refused to move, even crying when he reached out to her.

“I guess I’m not that good with children.”, he said with a smile, watching Ymir as she clung to the raven’s legs.

“That’s so strange,”, Historia wondered, “She usually loves meeting new people.”

But Ymir wouldn’t let Eren touch her, and because nobody wanted a crying child, Mikasa was the one to hold her while he and the queen sat down to do some much-needed catching up. Quiet gasps left her lips when Eren described his “reincarnation”, the long and perilous journey he had to endure to be reunited with his lover. When his story was done, there were tears in her eyes, and a whisper followed.

“D-do you think that… that Ymir could, you know.. ?”

It was obvious which Ymir she meant, but Eren could offer her no comfort.

“I’m sorry, but they are all gone. The paths collapsed, all the souls that were there are free now, I was the only one that stayed.”

With a slight tremble of her lips, the queen nodded, expecting such an answer. Taking a few deep breaths to stabilize herself, Historia got to the matters at hand.

“Eren, can you help me with the Yeagerists?”

“Not me, but Mikasa has a plan.”

Gently rocking the child in her arms, the Ackerman recited her plan to Historia. When she was done, the queen had a look of concentration on her face, tapping the table.

“It’s insane, but… good insane. I feel like it has a chance.”

Mikasa and Eren exchanged a look.

“That’s all we can hope for.”

After Historia left, taking Ymir with her, the pair was alone again. The celebration moved to the city but Mikasa didn’t feel like attending it, much more content here, lying on the grass with her lover. Together, they stared at the starry sky, basking in the moonlight.

“Do you think that we can ever get married?”, Mikasa wondered, still jittery from witnessing Armin’s and Annie’s wedding.

“I’m not sure. I feel like that if I ever walk into a church, the priest will try to drown me in the holy water.”

Mikasa giggled, hiding the smile in Eren’s shoulder.

“Maybe we don’t need a priest.”, he continued, ripping out a few blades of grass.

Deftly, he made a ring out of them, sliding it on Mikasa’s finger.

“Mikasa Ackerman, will you take me as your lawful husband?”

The answer bubbled out of her throat before she could make a coherent thought.

“Y-Yes.”

Following his example, Mikasa also made a ring, much better than Eren’s, putting it on his hand.

“Eren Yeager, will you take me as your lawful wife?”

“Yes, hundred, thousand times yes.”

Tangled on the ground, they stared into each other’s eyes, ignoring the rest of the world.

“I guess we can kiss now.”, Eren whispered.

Mikasa was the one who closed the distance, pushing her lips on Eren’s. It didn’t matter how many times they kissed, it made them both feel lightheaded, such joy could be found in a simple gesture. And when they broke apart, breathing heavily, Eren could say from the way Mikasa looked at him that this was only the beginning.

“Look at me.”, she said, admiring the grass ring, “Here I am, a married woman, when I thought that I will end up as a crazy bird lady.”

“Bird lady?”

“There was one that kept circling anytime when I visited your grave - it tried taking my scarf once too. You know, I thought that it might be you, living now as a bird or whatnot.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”, Eren pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “But I was never a bird, and I don’t plan on being one. As a human there are things we can do that would be… questionable if done with a bird.”

Now he was speaking Mikasa’s language.

“Do we get a wedding night?”, she drawled, her bedroom eyes and teeth biting the bottom lip making her the hottest being Eren ever saw in his existence.

The smile he gave her back was downright sexy.

“You bet.”

Eren was still sleeping when Mikasa woke up, slipping out of his hands. She stretched, feeling the burn in her muscles from last night’s activities, and looking down she could see faint bruises blooming on her porcelain skin. The dress was gone and forgotten, lost in the heat of passion, so Mikasa picked up Eren’s shirt from the floor, slipping it over her naked form.

Combing her hair, she put it over one shoulder, staring at the rising sun. The light somehow steeled her resolve and soon she was sitting down, pulling out a piece of paper. This had to work, there was no other way. For her and Eren to be together, the world had to be stable. With the pen in her hand, Mikasa thought for a moment before touching the white and beginning to write.

“Dear Kiyomi….”