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mythicamagic · 4 years

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Ulquihime Week: Day 4

@ulquihimeweek

Pairing: Ulquiorra/Orihime (UlquiHime) fanfic. Chapter Two - here

Rated T

Summery: Orihime has an imaginary friend, who happens to be a terrifying creature living in the woods behind her summer home.

For Ulquihime Week 2019 Day 4: Haunting/Touch Starved.

AN: This one is a little...weird. Think of it like a fairy tale/ horror /friendship /eventual romance?

Eldritch

At six years old little girls still believe in many things: Magic, ghosts, monsters, Santa, unicorns, the tooth fairy. Yet their beliefs are usually rooted in what they've already been told is possible. Santa lives at the North Pole and visits on Christmas. Unicorns can be found in forests. Tooth fairies only visit if you lose a tooth. The evil spirits in bathrooms usually resided in the last cubical.

Orihime Inoue had the profound ability to believe in almost anything. To give imperfect things palpable form inside her mind as something new. If Sora held up a sock puppet because her parents couldn't afford to buy a doll, she'd willingly suspend her disbelief and see it as a fierce cupcake dragon. If she ate red-bean paste on bread because they were low on groceries, she'd taste honey on pancakes or strawberries and cream. Dust came from magic spiders who liked to throw salt shakers of grey specs everywhere. The gloomy, faded lights of their dingy neighbourhood weren't half dead lightbulbs, but winking fairies or playful spirits. Graffiti was a technicolour, ancient language she didn't understand. The rivers and skies was a playground for the Gods. Sora could be her Mama and Papa in place of their actual parents.

So it surprised absolutely no one when Orihime claimed one day that Batman was her best friend.

---

He had been born from nothingness.

The only indicators that he was even alive were from the sharp, broken twigs on the forest floor tickling his hard, pale skin, and the solid earth supporting his back. That and consciousness.

He had no visible features, lacking a mouth with which to eat, or eyes with which to see. No hearing with which to listen, fingernails to claw and pry, fur or hair with which to shelter, and no heart.

Essentially, he had been born to experience nothing. A worthless, meaningless birth. He felt the absences of what he lacked with a keen, visceral emptiness.

The creature lay in a pale heap, content to die.

But something disturbed the clear nothingness surrounding him. Raising a hand, long fingers flexed wide, searching for the thin sensation in the breeze. The slightest, barely-there touch had him snatching something out of the air. Pressing it instinctively to his face, his form shuddered and convulsed.

Twin slits cracked on the creature's face. Muscle started to move and fix itself together. Skin crumpled as paper-mache lids pried themselves open. Long black lashes grew forth and the creature blinked the dust from his newly formed grey eyes. Muddy colours and blurry forms assaulted him, until he looked directly into an orb of something harsh and bright. Shielding his eyes, he looked down. Focusing on the dirt felt safer as he took a moment to practice blinking, seeing an afterimage of that burning light.

His sight cleared, shapes coming into focus.

Lifting his head and glancing around at the forest, slit pupils shifted. Sunlight filtered through the leaves. Blue skies could be glimpsed further still above. Hundreds of countless trees surrounded him.

Green. So much green.

His grey eyes let the colour leak into the canvas of his irises, making them give way to lush emerald. Touching his black lashes gingerly, the creature instinctively pried out one that didn't fit quite right with the rest. A small, single sun-kissed orange eyelash lay in his palm.

He found the colour acceptable.

Muffled, quiet vibrations thudded on the ground not too away then, like footsteps. Somehow, he could feel it. Lifting his gaze upon seeing movement in his peripheral vision, the creature stilled.

A little girl stopped in unison with him, tilting her head. The hair spilling out from under her sunhat blazed the same bright, fiery colour.

Deaf to her words, he could only watch as her mouth moved. She then hesitantly shifted forward, silver eyes bright and filled with nebulous flecks of brown. Gesturing to the orange lash in his palm, her lips curved, and the girl beamed.

For some reason, he then heard her words clearly, blessed with sound. "Are you my new friend? You can keep that eyelash in exchange!"

He stared uncomprehendingly, seeing a reflection of his image in her eyes. Proof of his existence. Distant tweeting could be heard in the trees. The scampering of strange, tiny creatures raced up tree trunks.

Something ran down his face from his eyes. Her expression crumpled and became alarmed, taking out a tissue from her pocket. "Oh no, don't cry! I promise I'll be a good friend!"

Racing over, she knelt and pressed the soft white thing against his dry cheeks. No matter how much she fussed and rubbed, the teal lines that made him look like he was constantly in mourning remained.

---

The girl had spent a few hours with him every day from then on, jabbering. Now that he'd received both sight and sound, the creature drank in all the newness surrounding him. He did not understand why his form was grown, with longer limbs than the girl, or why she saw fit to blush and remove her coat, telling him to cover his lower half with it. He did not understand much about himself at all, but everything she talked about, his frayed knowledge pieced together. The more books she read to him, the more his mind caught on until he became impatient with her slowness to describe the words.

'Sora' was her older brother, she said. A brother was a sibling. Her parents were poor. Parents raised their young. Being poor meant having no money with which to buy things.

The girl was called 'Orihime Inoue.'

When he gestured to himself, she blinked at him. "Oh, you're Batman!"

'Batman' did not sound right. But he supposed she was his God, his maker, despite not having palpable proof of such a thing. It felt correct to assume she knew best.

When she returned into the woods that bordered her back garden again, this time Orihime chewed an apple. She took out another from her red frilly dress, handing it to him.

"Oh...can you eat without a mouth?" She frowned.

Mouth?

Eat?

She tilted her head, saddened. "You must be really hungry," her tiny hand patted her stomach.

Hungry.

His stomach felt empty then, twisting into knots. Perhaps that was what she meant.

Yes, hunger.

He supposed he was.

'Batman' did not expect much to come from it, but the next day, Orihime trotted out through the bushes, giving him a gap-toothed smile.

She presented her baby tooth to him with all the flourish of a magician. "For you! This way, you can have a mouth! I could have saved it for the tooth fairy, but I'm giving it to you instead. I wrote her a letter explaining that eating food is one of the best things in the world, and my friend needs to know what it's like more than I need yen," she nodded happily. Her exuberance faltered slightly then. "Um, I think this will work. I hope. When you got that eyelash you got eyes, right?"

The creature reached out and took it between bone-thin forefinger and thumb. Instinctively he pressed the tooth to the appropriate place on his face.

A natural slit curved open, spreading wider as he stared at her, mentally mapping the look of her mouth. Behind the lips that formed came other intricacies of the mouth, muscles and such- that allowed him to open his jaw, accepting the tooth inside. Others formed an upper and lower row of the same bone-white teeth, strengthening until they were adult molars, canines and the like.

When finished, he parted his lips, plucking out the baby tooth and handing it back to her, a new tooth instantly regenerating within his mouth.

Orihime blinked, not thrown by witnessing the somewhat gruesome creation. "Your upper lip is all dark," she patted her top lip.

He mimicked the action but obviously could not see. Without fear, she casually pried her thumb into his lips to flash his new teeth at her.

"Wow! So many!"

Batman did not like this so he shied away from her touch.

"I guess you still can't talk though," small shoulders fell. "You probably need a tongue for that."

Tongue?

She stuck out her own, grinning. "You can't have mine! But I will go fetch you some food. I hear that ice-cream and soup are good if you struggle to eat. Please stay here!" The little ball of sunshine turned, bounding away without another word.

Green eyes stared after her, before mismatched lips opened. Touching inside, he indeed felt an absence inside the wet, hot space. His finger traced over the bumps and edges of his new teeth with fascination.

When she eventually returned, Orihime fed him peanut butter ice-cream and soup. He couldn't taste it, so the texture was all he had to go on as he swallowed. It was fine. He opened his mouth for more, and she giggled, calling him a glutton. He frowned at her tone and took the spoon off her, feeding himself.

She told him about her abusive parents, a drunk of a father and prostitute mother whom her brother, Sora, had saved her from. Ulquiorra understood some of the intricacies of what she said without fathoming her sadness or happiness. He did want to learn specifically, what the term 'glutton,' 'drunk' and 'prostitute' meant, but could not ask. Gesturing to her summer holidays homework in her backpack, he was rewarded with her teaching him how to read at her level. He caught on quickly, adapting, thirsty for knowledge.

Orihime gripped his large hand in both of her small ones and his curled long, pale fingers around a pen. She then grinned and taught him how to write in large sprawling characters.

She left him with a strand of her hair, which looked as though it had been kissed by the sun. He'd dutifully touched it to his head, where long, flowing dark tresses grew and fell to his shoulders, sprawling unevenly and wild.

----

From one of her broken fingernails came his long sharp talons.

With them, the creature felt that he now had the right tools to hunt, which she explained was what he'd need to do in her absence.

It was just as well, because a week later, Orihime had to leave. She'd made him a house of twigs and branches, a poor attempt at shelter, while explaining that she'd been staying with Sora at a cheap 'holiday home' they visited every year and rented for two weeks. They were now leaving for their city home. Batman felt no emotion at her departure but frowned slightly when water leaked from her eyes, running down chubby cheeks.

It smelled sharp and strange.

She'd scrubbed at her eyes and waved, promising to see him next year. Ulquiorra had nodded. With all the caprice and carelessness of a child, she'd then left her creation in the woods alone.

Orihime wanted him to have a tongue and it felt imperative to get one immediately. Legs shook as he stood, and he glanced down at the new blanket he'd tied around his waist at her behest.

He set down the advanced dictionary in his hand and tried talking a few steps, mimicking her walk, but soon panted. Sweat dotted his brow from the effort of walking the expanse of his clearing. He'd need to build strength. Eventually he'd get the hang of it.

---

"That's horrible."

Orihime looked up from her doodles to glance at Sora in the driver's seat, who listened to the radio.

"This attack was random and unprecedented in this town. Kenta Yano remains in hospital and has been unable to communicate to authorities who exactly is responsible for viciously severing his tongue from his mou-" the dial was snapped to the side, turning it off. Sora glanced at Orihime in the rearview mirror and gave a smile.

"Who wants pancakes with broccoli when we get home?"

"Ohhh I do, I do!" Orihime raised her hand, the distraction working its magic as they left the woods and summer home behind them.

----

The creature found that without her, the days blurred into one. He kept himself busy by reading the books she'd left him but they were quickly committed to memory. Rain poured heavy and endless sometimes. It had forced him from the usual clearing where they talked, finding a small cave and clawing at the earth to carve a space deeper for himself. He then lay down, suspending any and all thought; sleeping.

A year later, when she came hurrying through the woods again, clad in a summer dress and skirts flitting about her knees, Orihime found him exactly where she'd left him, but he now stood upright on two legs. More books were stacked atop each other, carefully stored in the shelter of a tree. They appeared to have been stolen from the library, but since the collection wasn't out of control, it could only be assured that he'd been putting the books back after reading them. The trunk had been carved out into shelves, keeping them safe. Orihime felt kind of proud. She'd told him not to steal.

His form had changed. Black fur now coated his arms up to his elbows, feathers sprouting from his shoulder-blades, yet more dark fur on his legs and lower-half, ending at his waist. She supposed he must have gotten cold in the woods. It only occurred to her then that she could have given him a pair of Sora's pants, and felt a degree of guilt. Maybe she'd been a bad friend.

He glanced at her, eyes wilder than she remembered, but he spoke eloquently, in steady, clipped tones.

"You are late, Orihime Inoue."

She burst into a wide smile.

---

"Murciélago," he said one day on her 8th birthday.

"Hm?"

"My name."

Orihime scrunched up her nose with concentration. "Mercy-"

"Murciélago."

"Merci...lego."

Flat green eyes told her he was not amused.

She huffed, looking apologetic. "Can I not call you Batman?"

"If you want to be incorrect, yes."

Seeing her state of furrowed brows and continual struggle to say it, he bit back a sigh, glancing up at the branches. "...Ulquiorra, then."

"Ulqui...orra," she murmured, before brightening. "Ulquiorra! That's a nice name."

He did not need her opinion on the matter but nonetheless felt assured and proud.

---

"I think it would be fun if you could fly," she mused one day, wading through a stream at the bright young age of 9. She claimed to be searching for stardust, because gold didn't satisfy ogres, apparently.

Since he was used to her random outbursts, he took it in stride, watching her from the bank. "Do you want me to fly?" He asked, gaze gliding over the bruises on her arms. He did not ask what they were from.

Orihime laughed softly, "maybe. Sure!" She then tapped her bottom lip. "But my brother says it's good to have a tail if you want to fly."

He blinked as she gasped and clapped her hands, dropping the bucket of precious stones she'd found into the water. "Ohh! Imagine if you had a lion's tail!"

----

She heard about the local zoo's break-in and subsequent attack on its male Barbary lion. She didn't think much of it even as she hugged Ulquiorra's newfound tail, which was thin, black and long. She had a wonderful time playing skip-rope with it.

Her laughter always resounded- not in his ears- but in the hollow of his chest which lay hidden beneath a surface of skin and muscle. The sound echoed and bounced off the walls long after she'd left him alone. In those times, he resented her presence in his life. The echos left a pulsing, aching thing. When his chest was silent, there was no sensation. An absence. A nothing. Nothingness did not hurt, so Ulquiorra came to the conclusion that nothingness was happiness.

----

"Your hair is shorter."

That smile he always noticed wobbled and shrank, before finally disappearing altogether. She curled her arms tighter around her knees, "some...girls cut it at the playground."

"Without permission?"

"Mhm," she scrubbed at her cheek, shoulders shaking a little. "I didn't tell Sora. I just said I felt like a change," her voice became thin and fragile. Ulquiorra watched as she struggled with something, holding back tears. She blinked rapidly and raised her head, exhaling. Not one fell.

His slit pupils dilated slightly. Even at ten years old, she was a strong girl. Different from the brats he'd glimpsed sometimes playing in the woods.

"It's just that...they made me feel like I was nothing," Orihime scuffed her shoes on the forest floor, disturbing leaves. "Just trash to be discarded. Girls always do stuff like this at school, but I didn't think it would happen while I was here. I like coming to the summer house... to be happy for a little while."

Happy? He blinked. Was she not usually? She smiled so often, indicating happiness. "There isn't anything wrong with being nothing," his tail thumped and slid over the forest floor. "But you are not trash."

She turned to look at him, brows furrowing. "I'm not?"

Ulquiorra stared at her, face as expressionless as ever, but a firmness crept into his tone. "No."

----

The next day, Orihime wandered to the playground cautiously, only to blink at the sight of the girls there. They sat, hands curled in their short locks that ended above their shoulders.

Frowning slightly, she made to approach. They hadn't looked like that yesterday. Their hair had been long and lush. The girls immediately noticed her and squeaked, hurrying away with frightened wails. One of them, the girl who Orihime remembered holding her down as the others had snipped at her orange locks- tripped and fell.

Orihime wandered closer, "what happened to you all?"

"Stay back!" The girl cried, dragging herself backwards on the mud to try and scramble away. "Keep away from me! You're a witch! A-a witch who summons demons or something! You sliced off my hair! I know it was you!"

Flabbergasted, Orihime could only watch as she turned and clawed at the ground to pick herself up and bolt away.

Naturally she'd visited Ulquiorra soon after. "Did you cut their hair?"

Vivid green eyes slid away. A rare thing. He always stared, like he were burning the image of her into his retinas. "You'll have to be specific."

Small hands drew into fists, "those girls. Did you...hurt them?"

"They hurt you," he pointed out evenly. The creature shifted and blurred, appearing much closer than she'd anticipated and causing her to startle. Long, sharp talons slid into her hair, gliding nails through the locks briefly, before drawing away.

Orihime swallowed, experiencing a brief flash of wariness for the first time. She then shook it away, putting her small fingers over the sharp tips of his claws. "You can't do that again."

"Why not?"

She frowned, trying to explain. For once, she felt out of her depth, "because it's wrong. Sora says it's bad to get revenge...to be w-wrathful."

He considered this, having no use for her human concerns. "Are you ordering me?"

"U-um..." the girl faltered. "Will it stop you from doing it again?"

"Yes."

"Then don't hurt any humans again," Orihime nodded with satisfaction.

Ulquiorra bit back a sigh, inclining his head. The ensuing pensive, thoughtful silence was soon broken by him slowly verbalising what had bothered him all night. "They were frightened of me. Even before I did anything to them."

"I suppose that's normal," she mused. "You're not like them."

His usual melancholic expression didn't change, but a kind of weight settled into his next words. Like a soft demand to know. Ulquiorra had never demanded anything of her before. "Are you afraid of me?"

And as usual, honesty stared him right back in the face. She visibly gentled and smiled. "No, I'm not."

---

The next year, she did not come.

Orihime did not visit the year after that or the year following that either.

Ulquiorra eventually plucked a bat from a tree and ripped its wings clean off its squirming body. He then pressed them to his shoulder blades and forced the leathery appendages to lengthen and grow, attaching them into his body and weaving the muscles and bone together. They soon towered over him in height, enough to support his weight in the air.

Theoretically.

It took a few attempts, but soon it took jumping and freefalling from a tree to actually work the wings enough to glide. A few more days and he was leaping into the night sky, flying.

He did not find her right away. Actually it took two more years to track the girl down, as he moved only at night and kept to himself. Ulquiorra observed as he went, becoming used to crawling down alley walls to peer into windows and observe humans. He'd scared away a homeless man who'd been squatting in an attic of a warehouse, watching television. Ulquiorra had promptly seated himself before the square of moving images and bright lights, learning.

They were all so similar and yet different, humans. They all wanted things, be it money, relationships, security or fame. They spouted ridiculous things about emotions and 'the heart.' He found that his assessment of them kept changing. Their books had taught him so much- and yet not enough. Orihime had been something unnamed and yet he wanted to name it. Was she special to him only because she'd given him what every creature usually possessed? That of the five senses? That sounded logical.

And yet it felt incorrect. It was not just that.

Ulquiorra eventually tracked the girl down by closing his eyes and feeling for something invisible. That same pull in the air that had happened when they'd first met. Energy he couldn't name or find a word for it with the language she'd taught him.

He soon pushed a window to an apartment open, tail sliding into the dark room and feeling for the floor before the creature followed.

The light in the bedroom switched on, causing him to freeze, eyes widening.

"Ulquiorra?"

Bedcovers rustled and sounded like they were being pushed back. Ulquiorra shifted, turning slowly to look at the woman.

She blinked, sitting on her bed, eyes looking wet but cheeks remaining dry. "I-it's you..."

He stared, transfixed. Orihime had changed.

His mental image of her shifted; bones growing, hips curving, body filling out, hair lengthening. She was a woman now. The child that had taught him what 2+2 meant was dead and gone.

He didn't react to the change, merely updating his information on her appearance and assumed maturity.

She stood, walking toward him with vague confusion. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, sliding down in waves to end at her mid-back. Ulquiorra blinked, his foot drawing back slightly, instinctively. Something pooled in his stomach. Similar to hunger, but illogical, since he'd already eaten.

"I thought...I don't-" her voice wobbled, uncertain. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't return."

She bit her lip, tugging it between her teeth. The sensation in his stomach tightened into liquid heat. Ulquiorra shook it away.

Finally, her grey eyes slid away, like she were ashamed. "Sora died."

He processed this, picturing the brother he'd glimpsed beyond the treeline sometimes, waiting for her. A tall, dark-haired man. "I see. Do you expect me to comfort you?"

She flinched, holding her arms. Slowly, slim fingers glided over the tanned skin, nails biting in. "No," she murmured. "After he died, my aunt began giving me money so that I could keep myself afloat here. On my own," grey eyes slid to the window, guilty. "I wanted to see you but I didn't have enough to come-"

"You're poor. It's to be expected."

The words didn't upset her. Ulquiorra was always painfully blunt. She decided to be equally straightforward, looking at him.

"But...I'd like to give another order. If that's okay?"

Ulquiorra mulled it over, wondering if her teenage years and impending adulthood had rendered her as selfish and shallow as the other humans he'd glimpsed. Perhaps the qualities he'd admired in her had vanished.

Taking his silence as reluctance, Orihime stepped closer and lay gentle, warm hands on his arm. Ulquiorra tensed, breath hitching.

"Is there anything you'd like in exchange?" Her breath fanned over the exposed skin of his chest. The hollowness beneath the surface opened wider.

"I'm not sure as of right now," he quietly admitted. "I'll do as you ask, and then we can discuss what I want afterwards."

She nodded, firey hair bouncing with the motion. The heat from her body felt alluring, in a way no hearth had ever beckoned to him previously. "Alright, I want..." Orihime took a breath. "I wish you would bring Sora back."

Ulquiorra thought of the bat he'd killed. How its eyes had turned glassy and vacant. "I'm not certain that power is within my reach," he admitted, slit pupils dilating slightly at her tense, rigid expression. Like she straddled the line between a collected facade and despair. Strong as ever. "...But I will try," he added.

Her eyes lit up like they used to, lashes falling shut. Orihime's fingers brushed over the black fur of his arm.

"Thank you," she breathed, giggling slightly. Her arms wrapped around his middle then. The warmth and softness of her body pressed against his bare chest and torso, trapping him in a tight grip that he oddly didn't find restricting yet caused his eyes to widen anyway. The thudding coming from her chest resounded in his own. He set his hands on the curve of her hips, counting the thuds of her heartbeat. Without realising, he smelled her hair and brought her closer.

"You're the best imaginary friend I've ever had."

Tilting his head a touch caused black strands to dip and brush over her cheek. Did she mean that she'd initially assessed him as a friend but now felt that their bond had been imaginary? Or...

Orihime released him and turned towards the kitchen, asking whether he wanted something to eat or drink. He barely heard her.

She was incorrect. He'd left proof of his existence via that man, that bat, that lion, those girls in the park. Their tongues, wings, tails and hair had been cut by his talons. The things he'd assumed were his lungs constricted, sensations assaulting- spouting cold fire from the depths of his stomach and into his throat, burning.

His hand rose, digits pressing against the surface of his chest. The feeling of it being nothing but an empty container doubled. He was only vaguely alarmed when his fingers dipped inwards. The brittle surface of skin over his chest crumbled away where his heart should have been. A hollow hole was revealed in its place.

Ulquiorra realised then, he didn't care if he had actually interacted with the world. If he had actually scared that homeless man, harmed those creatures or cut those girls hair. What he desired, coveted, craved, needed lay in Orihime's tired eyes that seemed just a touch out of reality as she glanced at him and he found no sign of his reflection staring back at him.

He wanted to exist in her eyes again.

----

AN: TBC in chapter two

#ulquihime #uhweek2019 #Bleach #ulquiorra x orihime #orihime inoue #Ulquiorra

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ialwayscomewhenyoucall · 4 years

Text

Horses, Laughter, Singing, and Family

thirteen x rose

~600 words

They crowd around the console; the Doctor is busy flipping and sliding various bits and bobs while the others wait for the TARDIS to land. The Doctor had gathered them all, said she’d found a party that looked like fun. They’re all dressed up, even Graham agreed to wear a tux (although he keeps tugging at the neck of his shirt, clearly annoyed by the bowtie).

“So do you always just crash parties that look fun?” Yaz asks.

“Oh yeah,” Rose says. Then she adds more quietly, “But please don’t say crash when she’s piloting the TARDIS. Remember how we all met?”

“I heard that,” says the Doctor. “I’m old, but I’m not deaf. I was blind for awhile once, but I can hear just fine. And I’m an excellent pilot. This old girl just doesn’t always react well when I regenerate.”

Rose rolls her eyes at Yaz, who puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Then the Doctor laughs. “Rose! Remember when we snuck into that posh party and it turned out to be a gender reveal party?”

She and Rose link eyes and shout together, “For a horse!”

Graham looks mystified. “It was a what?”

“A gender reveal party,” says Rose. “A party to tell your friends and family if your baby is a boy or a girl.”

“Except this one was for a horse!” the Doctor adds, still laughing. “There was a big sign that said--”

“Will it be a filly or a colt?” Rose interjects.

“There were saddles everywhere, and tiny little buckets of oats or whatever on the tables. And we just thought they must be horse people being all cute with the theme of their party.”

“But then they brought out the pregnant horse!”

By now Rose and the Doctor are practically collapsing with their giggles, lost in the memory. The Doctor’s leaning her head onto Rose’s shoulder and they’re holding each other up.

Graham just shakes his head. “Only you, Doc.” Then he looks at the two women, suspicious. “You’re not taking us to a horse party, are you?”

“No! No horses. None on the guest list, at least.” The Doctor grins. “This is a good one, guaranteed. It’s the cast party for the Hamilton revival. It’s the 300th anniversary!”

Ryan pulls a face. “Are they gonna sing? Please don’t make me go to a singing party.”

“Open yourself up to a bit of culture, Ryan. I have no idea if there will be singing. I haven’t actually been to the party yet.”

“I thought you liked Hamilton,” Yaz looks at Ryan through narrowed eyes. “You’ve never complained about us going to see it yet, and we’ve seen it, what, six times?”

“Seven,” Ryan admits. “Singing’s fine on a stage, or in the shower. But when I’m with people who just burst into song for no particular reason…” He shakes his head, almost violently.

“You only say that because you can’t sing,” Yaz teases.

Ryan opens and closes his mouth several times, then says, “Shut up.”

Everyone laughs. Even Ryan.

The TARDIS lands and fills with quiet anticipation; Ryan, Graham, and Yaz huddle near the door, excited to see what’s to come. Even Ryan, despite his dislike of “singing parties.”

Rose and the Doctor stay back, taking a quiet moment. With five people in the TARDIS now, they don’t get as much time for just the two of them as they have in the past. Still, neither of them would trade their new “fam” for anything.

Rose snakes an arm around the Doctor’s waist. “I love laughing with you,” she says.

The Doctor smiles. “I love pretty much anything with you.”

“Should we tell them about last time we crashed a party?” Rose asks with a wink.

“Nah,” says the Doctor. “We don’t get arrested every time. No need for them to worry.”

***

for @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas || Day 9 - Party

#lirael writes #doctorroseprompts #31 days of ficmas #thirteen x rose #dw drabble #the tardis fam #fluff #i've written these tags four times now #maybe this time it'll actually post??

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bates--boy · 4 years

Text

He set the collection of mice skulls in the tin bowl and stared at them. They looked like tiny, discolored stones carved with holes, more cutesy Halloween decoration than the product of hours of trapping prey in the alley between his flat and the next. And the skinning.

Oh, god, the skinning...

At least his anaconda is set for snacks for the next couple weeks. But there were bits of clarity in his exhaustion and mild panic where he wondered if this would even work with rodent skulls. The only reason he even had them was because he didn't feel right taking ones from the corpses of the primates that passed in the animal center, and he had to save the questionably legally-acquired human ones for later in case this did work.

Because that was what this hesitation came to: the fact that this might not work. The man knew he was being driven by a moment of asphyxiation and an eternity of hallucination, but those souls...their voices...

YOU ARE WRONG

They still crawled over his skin, breathed against the back of his neck, still thundered in his head and made the very little sleep he tried to attain impossible. He still felt that black hole inhaling, trying to swallow his screaming form and those unfortunate, judgemental souls.

What was he wrong about?

He eyed his set-up on the dining room table, checking off the list in his head, and leaned forward to switch on the camera.

"To anyone who may be viewing this: hello. I'm Peter Kirkland, and today, I'm here to answer a question as old as time, itself: what happens after we die?

"As an atheist, my answer was once and always: nothing." He shrugged. "Nothing at all. But, er, there have been some recent developments..."

He thought about the conversation with Matthew, of heads rolling across floors.

He thought about the cycles of regeneration Roderich went through under the unforgiving ocean.

He thought about how he had to carry Roderich back to his hotel room, and wait in a corner until the man came back to life.

He thought about those stories of children claiming memories they were much too young to have, past lives returning to them.

He thought about the black hole, the howling, hungry black hole.

"...that made me wonder if the answer was as simple as emptiness beyond here. Now, don't get me wrong: I'm still an atheist. Truthfully, I don't see how religion would tie into this. Or anything requiring rationality, really. Heh, there goes my angry atheist joke for the day." He tipped an invisible fedora to the camera.

"And now, to make myself absolutely hypocritical, I have here a sort of necromancy equipment." He reached to the camera and turned it at different angles to show the bowl of skulls resting on a trivet, the vials and tubes, the pile of notes, the candles and lighters, and the plasma separator machine.

"But this has less to do with merely communicating with the dead, and more with entering their plane."

He returned the camera back to its place eon the tripod and shrugged. "Now, whether or not that means I may die, I don't know. That does seem like the only outcome of this, doesn't it? 'We all die someday', and hell, today might be my day!" He tried to chuckle, but ended up nibbling on his lip.

He picked up the notes stacked on the corner of the table. "Anyway..."

He gave a brief outline of his theories, some stuff about plasma and energy and stars that sounded more like hopeful sci-fi the longer he spouted it to the camera. After, he wrapped the rubber tourniquet around his upper left arm, struggling to tie it near and tight one handed.

Like the many medical videos he'd watch, he practically doused his inner elbow with rubbing alcohol and pressed his fingers about, looking for that sweet spot. "God damn, it's always so hard to find. Semper Do to my nurses who had to struggle with me." He gave the camera a fleeting, awkward smile.

There. It thumped through his flesh, popping against his fingertips. Okay. Okay. He picked up the needle and flicked off the protective cap. The metal was cool against his skin.

...Okay, he was pushing the syringe in...

...On the count of three, he will push the syringe in... One...two...

...He just needed to take a deep breath, and he'll be able to stick it in.

He inhaled, held it, exhaled. Inhaled, held, exhaled. Inhaled, held, exhaled. Inhaledheldexhaled, inhaledheldexhaled, inhaledexhaled inhaledexhaledinhaledexhaledinhaledexhaledgoddamnitdoitforscienceinhaledexhaledinhaledexhaled

"AAAAAGH!" He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his fist up.

He cracked them open. The needle was stabbed through, with only minor drops of blood bubbling up at the injection site. It'll have to do, so he connected the syringe's tube to the vials' stoppers, one at a time, his body overcome with shakes as he watched his blood run down the sides of his elbow as well as fill the plastic containers.

He gave the vials a shake and set them in the separator machine. While that was at work, Peter bandaged his wound and cleaned up his spills, then downed a half bottle of sports drink, at least whatever he could drink past his quivering lip as he lied down on the couch to recover.

The centrifuging was complete, and Peter returned to the table. He retrieved the tubes and, using the same needle as before, he drew out the plasma from the cells vial by vial, and pushed it out into the bowl. He capped the needle as a precaution and took a moment to lay his hands flat on the table and breathe.

"Next step," he said mostly to himself, reaching for the lighter and a votive candle, "Fire!"

He put the lit candle in its hold under the bowl's trivet, and set the rest of the candles around the vulgar set-up. "Oh, these candles make me feel like I should set some mood music. What music would even be appropriate for this?" He looked off into the distance, grimacing. "Hmm... Death metal? Nah, too cliched."

Still, he was sure that this practice required some silence, so Peter let the joke pass and reviewed his notes one more time, coming to the slips of paper with the procedure he created.

1: Establish a channel.

Wait until the plasma comes to a gentle boil. The steam will be the gas like the ones that make up stars, the candles the fire that make them glow. This will be beacon to you, the skull will be the home for them.

Make sure all distractions are removed; there is no telling what may scare off souls. ("Oh, I guess music was a no-go, anyway," Peter murmured.)

2: Connect

Relax your body to a state of semi-sleep (asphyxiate again?? Give meditation a try)

Place hands as close to the beacon as possible without disturbing it

Mimic the black hole noise

3: Collect information

Invite the sound to take you to their plane

Ask for names and stories

Mingle, I guess

He wished he had thought this through more. Nevertheless, he laid his hands flat between two candles and closed his eyes. He breathed through his nose and out his mouth, gagged at the taste of his own plasma burning in front of him, and tried again. He went back to that place, that void, that place of condemnation and confusion. The bumps returned to his skin as he waded through the screaming of souls, as he faced the ruling entity in his mind, the one that swallowed the dead and existing like smoke from a cigarette.

In the hallucination, when he was right there in front of it, the black hole screeched destruction and vengeance, it howled with an insatiable frenzy, it crackled like the unending fire that it was, making even the frightened cries of the souls it consumed mute and damn near rendered Peter deaf.

But when he recollected that moment of looking the end in its blinding and dark face, when he thought he would lose his voice trying to scream louder than it...

A hum. It was a breathless hum, a droning and tuneless lullaby to soothe the frightened children to sleep.

It had to be wrong. It had to! Nothing so soft could inspire what Peter felt in that place!

Yet Peter leaned back in his chair, and felt the hum reverberate in his chest.

The heat from the candles traveled through his fingertips and up his arms, the warmth crawling up his neck and brushing across his face. The darkness behind his closed kids thickened, almost like time was easing towards night. In the calm, Peter had wished that he used scented candles so the smell of his very essence burning didn't choke him and made him nauseous, but he was slowly getting used to the smell, that the sensation of it clogging up his throat lessened the more he hummed and leaned his head back...

WHOAREWHATDOYOUTHINKYOU'REAREYIUDOINGHERE?!

Peter's head snapped forward, his eyes popping open. He had to stop himself from toppling his chair over as existence flickered around him. He watched as his home, gray with not exactly darkness but still a lightlessness that sucked the life and time out of everything, disappear into that black void. It flickered through the cycle like the flame of a candle, from his flat to the black emptiness to a warping of the two then back to his flat where his bird was so still in his cage but Peter could still hear him go batshit and beating his wings against the bars and above his head in the emptiness was the Black Hole and

He gasped.

Standing before him, phasing in and out of the planes like the planes, themselves, we're switching back and forth, stood the souls. Whether in his flat or in the void, these faceless beings stretched out before him in legions, as far as Peter's watering eyes could see. These beings converged, looming higher, looking down on the heaving young man cowering in his chair. They had no mouths, yet still they screamed

HOWDAREYOUINVADEWHOAREYOUWHERESMYMOMMYDEIDREDEIDREWHEREAREYOUDUMBFUCKRUNBEFORETHEBLACKHOLE

Peter presses his hands to his ears, clawing his nails into the back of his head. Too many...there were too many.

THEBLACKHOLEISHUNGRYRUNWHYAMIHEREWHOAREALLOFISTHISHEAVEN

What were once beads of sweat trickling down his nose and cheeks was now a full layer of sticky sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, drenching the front of his shirt until the collar hung heavy. He swallowed, gasping and blubbering, his lungs searching for fresh, cool air, but only finding the stench of his plasma and heat -- god, the heat of these souls! The candles were pointless! He's being burned alive. These souls drew closer to him and they were nothing but fire and burning energy and they didn't care that this whimpering bastard curled up in his chair was being roasted down to his bones!

THISISWHATIGETFORFIGHTINGINTHEWARYOUAREWRONGYOUAREWRONGDOYOUKNOWMAGNUSYOUAREWRONGYOUAREWRONGYOUAREWRONG

He pressed his hands harder against his face. A droplet ran down the bridge of his nose, and he couldn't tell if it was sweat or a tear.

CANYOUHELPMEFINDMYDADDYTHEVIEWFROMHALFWAYDOWNYIUAEWWROMGYIUAREWRONGYOUAREWRONG

God, make it stop--

Peter?

Peter opened his eyes and lowered his hands. That voice. Through the devastation of these numberless voices that crashed through him like stars and asteroids, he knew that voice. The gentle, loving one, the one that sang him lullabies and told him stories of places afar and promised him a happy home when the war planes stopped flying over his fort. The family he had before he knew what family was.

He whipped his head about, searching these faceless entities. "Marion?!"

Peter!

"Marion!" Peter shot out of his chair, standing on his toes and craning his sweat-soaked neck out as if that would help him seek her out among this cruel, burning mass.

"Marion, I--!"

The flickering worsened, but he found that the flat he lived in stayed longer and time tried to continue. No, no no no, the channel! He had to keep the channel open!

Peter lit more candles, replacing the one under the tin bowl, and grabbed for the needle-- shit, where was it?! He looked for the needle he used-- god damn it, where was it, where was it?! He looked all over the table, under the mess of papers and discarded candles. The souls, the ones he hated and wished was swallowed up by that damn Black Hole flashing in and out of existence above him, started fading. Along with her voice.

"No!" He wailed, his voice hoarse. He looked down at his hands, blinking rapidly to keep the sweat out of his eyes.

And then he bit himself.

His teeth sunk into the tender flesh under his thumb, stabbing deeper until his blood filled his mouth. He spat it into the still heated bowl. The souls' fading stopped, though they still flickered. He bit into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, sucking until he choked on the blood that he had to spit out into the bowl. The mice skulls turned dark.

Peter, what are you doing?!

He chomped down on the opposite palm, and his wrists, and up his arms, sucking, spitting, choking, crying, screaming through his own skin and meat he had between his teeth. The flickering between planes slowed. Everything slowed, except for hi is rapidly blinking eyes Peter tried to maintain consciousness. Her voice stopped fading.

Peter, please stop!

The darkness of sleep and the darkness of the void were indistinguishable as Peter collapsed into it.

#hetalia #droid noodles ( writing )#animal abuse tw #self harm tw #death tw #blood tw #uuuuuuh i don't know what ekse to tag this as soo #might be good to just ignore it #long post #since read mores don't work on this godforsaken app #rage against the singularity saga

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otheroutlandertales · 5 years

Photo

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Witches - Part 8

by @whiskynottea

Hours had passed when Claire finally woke up. The light was dim in the room, the house quiet, the blankets around her body so warm and inviting that she spent a good five minutes contemplating staying in bed.

Five good minutes of chasing dreams before she was crushed by reality.

She sat up quickly and felt light-headed, the heavy wooden furniture of the room blurring around the edges. She squeezed her eyes closed and took two deep breaths before the world settled onto its axis.

How many hours had she slept?

Claire’s stomach growled and she realized that she had eaten nothing for almost a day. Broth, Jenny had said, waiting for her in the kitchen. Not her first choice of food, but something warm and nourishing was what she really needed.

Claire got hastily out of bed, forgetting about her wounded shoulder until she felt the bandages restraining her movements. The pain had subsided considerably and she smiled, proud of Jenny’s work.

“Removing the bullet, putting me to sleep,” Claire murmured as she scanned the room searching for her clothes. “We’ll forget who the healer is in this house.”

Claire dressed with strained moves, now mindful of her injury. She was surprised when she found her body had gone through the inflammatory period of healing in just a few hours of sleep. Once she got something to eat, she would heal her shoulder to the best of her ability. If she would focus on the regeneration of the muscular fibers and formation of the connective tissue scar, the wound might soon be just itchy, if not a little sore.

No matter how content she was with her healing process, and thankful for a few hours of rest, Claire felt guilty for letting precious time pass. She knew there weren’t many days left until Alex’s execution. No matter Jenny’s visions and Brian’s inquiries, they had to leave for Fort William soon. The invisible noose of time was gradually closing around their necks.

Claire walked down the stairs, passed by the empty parlour and headed for the kitchen, the only room of the house that looked lived in. They were all there. A bit paler than she had left them, and with eyes red and tired, but their gazes when she entered the room were fierce and determined.

Frasers, all three of them. She should have known. They wouldn’t rest until Alex was safe in Ceana’s arms, away from the redcoats. If all went according to the plan the two of them would escape to Stornoway and would live there, forever lost to the world.

“Claire!” Jamie talked first, rising from his chair and motioning for her to sit down. “Do ye feel better, lass?”

Claire took a moment to look at him. It was strange, how he’d gone from calling her a witch and telling her how dangerous she was for his family, to asking her if she would be safe in the future and then searching for her in the midst of nowhere to bring her back home. Hadn’t he even told her this morning that she wasn’t allowed to leave after Alex was rescued? Did he want her here, now?

What had changed? Had Jenny boxed his ears as she had promised she would?

It was at that moment, when she bombarded herself with questions she didn’t know the answers to, when Claire realized that the way he had looked at her the first day was the same as the night he’d found her. He wasn’t angry; he was afraid. Not afraid of her, but afraid for her -- for them all. And the softness in his eyes when she met his gaze suddenly made sense.

“Will ye stand there all night, Claire?” Jenny’s voice brought her back to the present, and she took the two steps that kept her away from Jamie and the chair. He moved aside, smiling at her, and went to the parlour to fetch another one.

Jenny stood up and moved about, and a few moments later set a bowl of lukewarm broth and two oatcakes in front of Claire. “Eat.”

“I’m eating,” Claire rose an eyebrow together with her spoon, “and you’re speaking. What have you seen?”

“Not much, but enough.”

Ceana, who had entered the kitchen right after Jamie left, sniffled back tears when she heard Jenny’s gloomy tone. One look at the girl was enough for Claire to imagine the streams of tears she had shed during the past few days. But Ceana’s jaw was set, her hands clasped together in a defiant manner. Painful though it was, she would go through whatever they needed to do to get Alex away from Captain Randall.

Jamie came back into the kitchen and sat down on the chair he carried under his arm, right between Jenny and Claire. “Did ye tell Claire?” he asked his sister, reaching for an oatcake only to have his hand slapped by Jenny.

“I’m waiting for her to eat first,” she replied, her voice stern. “And she doesna need help wi’ her food, brother.”

Jamie shrugged, although a light blush rose upon his cheeks. They didn’t speak much until Claire finished her food. Every time they fell silent, the air in the kitchen got heavy with anticipation and sorrow.

“I’m listening,” Claire announced, pushing her plate away.

“I’ve seen him twice, Claire. The Captain, I mean.” Jenny paused, biting her lips as she glanced at Ceana. “Do ye want to go to yer room, lass? Ye don’t need to hear the details of it.”

“No.” Ceana sat straight, looking at Jenny straight in the eye. “I decided…” She looked uncertain for a moment, then cleared her throat and spoke again. “I need to know what is happening in that cell.” Jenny nodded. Brian and Jamie gave her similar heartening smiles.

“Captain Randall is beating Alex. And he is using him.” Jenny swallowed hard and lowered her gaze on the table, eyes fixed on the sturdy wood. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as though the words had failed her. “He takes him to bed,” she added, at last, her voice almost a whisper.

A gasp came from Ceana’s side, but no other comment followed. Jenny continued. “Randall goes to his cell every night after dinner.”

“Sick bastard.” Hatred echoed in Jamie’s words. Brian coughed in warning, and his son didn’t say more.

“He doesn’t want to be heard.” Claire belatedly realized that she had spoken aloud. Jenny nodded, her face grim.

“The execution is in five days,” Brian’s deep voice made all eyes turn towards him. “We could report him, but I dinna think we would be fast enough to save Alex. Were it not to fall on deaf ears, that is.” He sighed, resigned, as if he’d rather not mouth the next words. “If you want to save the lad, ye must leave tomorrow.”

“This is what we’ll do, then,” Claire agreed.

“Yer shoulder?” The frown on Jamie’s forehead got deeper.

“I’ll heal it tonight. I feel better already; Jenny did a magnificent job.” Jenny beamed hearing Claire’s praise, but looked at her uneasily, as if she didn’t really believe her. “I can take care of the rest by myself,” Claire insisted. “Now that I’ve slept and eaten.”

“D’ye get the poison and the antidote?”

“I did. Raymond gave me both, before…” Her voice failed her. Before what? Before she disappeared? Before he died? She couldn’t complete the sentence.

Jenny didn’t let her. She spoke again, too quickly to seem casual, but Claire welcomed the distraction. “I think Jamie has to come wi’ us,” Jenny proposed, her slanted blue eyes searching for Claire’s.

“Why?” Claire questioned, eyes darting between the two siblings, unsure if there was more in Jenny’s visions than she let them know with Ceana present.

“He can carry Alex until we reach the horses. Ceana has told us Alex is thin, and he is so in my visions, but ye’ll be frail after using yer powers Claire, and I don’t think Ceana and I can carry a man if he’s paralyzed or anesthetized.”

Claire didn’t know what to say. This was new to her, and totally unexpected. She hadn’t told Jenny, but in the worst case scenario, she planned to take them all away to another time. Four people were a lot, but five? She didn’t know if she could do it. She was sure she couldn’t, especially after stopping the poisoning and making sure Alex would live.

“It will be better, Claire.” Jamie was resolute and stubborn as always. “I can look out for ye, if I’m there.” His eyes glinted, but his easy smile was not enough to persuade Claire.

Five people meant that their initial plan was all they had. No alternative. No plan B. She didn’t even want to think about it.

“Do we know at what time does the Captain have his dinner?” Claire asked, more to divert her thoughts than to suspend Jamie’s anxiety as to whether he would be a part of their mission.

“Around seven,” Brian supplied, most probably getting some intelligence of his own to complement Jenny’s visions.

“I wish we knew when he visits Alex.”

Claire thought everything over. Raymond, her sweet Raymond, had included a syringe and a needle in the package. He knew that curare wasn’t effective if administered orally and had saved her the trouble of cutting Alex raw to apply the poison on the wounds. Doing the injections would save her the time she needed to heal the cuts and clean the blood before they left his cell. She would need approximately fifteen minutes to talk to Alex, convince him they were not witches -- this is why they needed Ceana -- and make him relax to start with intramuscular injections that would paralyze his arms and legs.

“Curare has a range of action between thirty minutes and eight hours, dependent on the administration, the product, and the dose. If we suppose that Raymond has found me the clearest curare available, which I’m sure he has…” Claire looked intently at the empty plate in front of her while making calculations. “If I use a moderate dosage, and increase it in case it’s ineffective, we can more or less expect the poison to reach its full effect about thirty minutes after I do the intramuscular injections.”

“The what?” Jamie asked, and the way he screwed up his face made Claire chuckle.

“Injections. A syringe, a needle… I can show you later,” Claire said invitingly, both eyebrows raised in a challenge.

Jamie’s eyes widened, blue changing into black. “No, thanks.”

Jenny shook her head and smacked her brother lightly. “Claire knows what she’s doing.”

“I ken. I just have never heard about such a thing before.”

“Intravenous injections started back in the 17th century, actually. The syringe used back then, however, was a crude device. Raymond has given me one from the 20th century. It is precise and the needle is thin, so the pain it causes is substantially less.”

“I dinna think Alex will mind a wee needle,” Ceana murmured, the colour gone from her face.

“Aye, of course. Ye’re right lass.” Jamie pressed his lips together bashfully, regretting the change of subject. With a glance at Claire, he implored her to continue.

“What was I saying?” she wondered, trying to buy time to decide how much she would divulge.

“Thirty minutes to get the effect,” Jenny reminded her and Claire could see her friend was trying to form their plan of action in her head.

“Right. Which means that if we get there at seven, and I finish by seven fifteen, the paralysis onset will be around seven forty-five. But we can ask Alex how meticulous Randall is considering the time he visits. If he follows a schedule we can calculate the time of the injections to be more precise. And we will have everything ready before Alex gets paralyzed.”

She didn’t want to say how by ‘everything’ she meant the noose, or to reveal the last, intravenous injection that would paralyze Alex’s diaphragm to make the suicide seem real. The injection that would require Randall to be on time for his visit to find Alex and the guards to dispose of Alex’s body quickly for Claire to reach him, administer the antidote and force some oxygen into his lungs. She didn’t want them to know how Alex would have his senses throughout his ordeal, how he would feel the pain, how he would not be able to swallow and would feel choked in his own saliva. How easily he could be killed by curare, and that if his heart stopped in the process Claire would have three to four minutes to get to him before losing him forever. She didn’t want them to know what being a healer means. The terrible decisions you have to make, and how often you walk on the precipice between right and wrong. She couldn’t tell them. Not all of them, anyway. She might tell Jenny later.

“Pa-paralyzed?” Ceana mumbled, confirming Claire did right not to inform them about the ugliness of the situation.

“There is no other way, lass,” Jenny reassured her, taking Ceana’s trembling hand between hers. “It won’t be permanent.”

“And then?” the girl asked.

“Alex will hang himself.” When Claire’s voice faded, the kitchen was so quiet one would think no one breathed in the room, no heart was strong enough to keep beating. Not when they all faced what they had to do.

“But how? How will we save him if he hangs himself?” The despair in Ceana’s voice made Claire’s heart shrink inside her chest.

“Alex has to hang himself when he hears Randall approach the cell. If everything goes well, he will be paralyzed and Randall will think he’s dead.”

Because he will be close to death, Claire thought.

“Judging by what Randall has done to the lad, he won’t be happy to let the doctor examine the prisoner. What we believe,” Jenny hesitated, realising that ‘believe’ wasn’t a strong word to console Ceana. But it was the true one. “We believe that he will order the body to be disposed of, at the place everyone ends up after the noose.”

“We will be there, at the east side of Fort William. Claire will give Alex the antidote and I will carry him back to the horses,” Jamie’s belief in the plan was unquestionable. “We’ll be back in no time, lass.”

“What d’ye mean? I’m coming wi’ ye.”

“Ceana, a nighean…” Brian was calm as he talked to the girl. Claire looked between him and Jenny, trying to understand when this change of plans occurred. Ceana was supposed to be with them to help Alex believe they had come to his rescue. In his emotional distress, a familiar face would be necessary to calm him and explain the plan before the injections began.

Brian kept talking and Jamie agreed with his Da, insisting that the risk was bigger than the profit, but Ceana had none of that. When they turned to look at Jenny for help, she shook her head in a negating manner. Both men glared at her. “What?” she exclaimed. “I would want to go if it was my man in that cell.”

With Claire’s assertive, “Me too,” Ceana’s face changed with a victorious smile. Her first smile in weeks. “We need Ceana,” Claire added. “It will be easier if Alex sees someone he loves.”

“Aye, ye’re coming, then.” Jamie sighed in defeat. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

Claire didn’t mention she hadn’t agreed to his coming, but she was tired and Jamie would insist on coming anyway. Jenny rose from the table, and Ceana followed her. When they left the room, Claire looked at the men and spoke again. “Once Alex is safe, I’ll leave again. Jenny won’t let me, but you two have to understand.”

Two pairs of blue eyes looked at her incredulously. “Ye’re family, Claire.” Brian’s deep voice ran straight into her heart. “We canna do what ye’re asking, we canna let ye go. Unless ye don’t want to stay here, that is.”

Jamie didn’t say a word, but his fingers kept drumming a frantic tune on the table. “Is it because of what I said to ye that first day?” he finally asked, his voice soft. “I didna mean it that way, Claire. All I meant to say was --”

“No, this is not your fault, Jamie,” Claire interrupted him. “You called me a witch when you met me, and this is what I am. I was lucky to find another witch, one with a big mouth and a bigger heart but I…” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Jenny won’t let me do it, but I have to go. I have to make sure you’ll be safe. You’re my family, right? This is what families do, they take care of each other.”

She rose from her chair before either of them had time to state their disagreement. And as Claire walked up the stairs to her room, she lingered outside Jenny’s door and felt a part of her heart falling behind, always safe within the walls of Lallybroch.

#outlander fanfiction #otheroutlandertales #mod whisky #ch: Claire #ch: Jenny #ch: Jamie #ch: Brian #canon AU #category: general #witches #oot

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ayanna-wild · 5 years

Text

Under the Knife

Word Count: 1088

Pairings: 10th Doctor x daughter reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of death

A/N: Request from anonymous, and part 4 of Day With The Devil will be posted tomorrow! Enjoy!

Summary: Your nerves gave you no rest, you tossed and turned all night. You tried to sleep, but the fear of tomorrow, it consumed your thoughts.

............................................................

Your eyes stared at the ceiling, pointing out constellations in the stars painted on it. You smiled as you remembered when you spent the afternoon painting them with your father. Your joy was short-lived whenever thoughts of tomorrow clouded your mind. You stood with a heavy sigh, choosing to give up your useless attempt at sleep. You made your way to the kitchen, hoping to have a warm cup of coffee.

"You're not supposed to drink that."

You lazily turned your head to see your father standing there. In truth the Doctor wasn't really your father, but he was the man who raised you and kept you safe. Everything about your parents marriage was frowned upon, your mother was human, your father a Time Lord. Then there was you, it was illegal for you to even exist. So your parents kept you hid and safe, and for nine years you were loved by the greatest parents the universe could have given you. Then the Time War came, and just like that, they were gone. The Doctor had promised your parents he'd take care you, and he did. He loved you like you were his own daughter.

"Oh... right..." You muttered, placing the cup on the counter top.

'That's right, I have surgery in a few hours.' You thought.

Although you were proud of your half human half Time Lord heritage, you had an unfortunate amount of health issues. You only had half the number of regenerations that Time Lords had, and only one heart. The Doctor, always worrying about you, insisted unless it was absolutely necessary that you didn't use your regenerations. Which is why, that although your liver was shutting down, you weren't going to wait for it to trigger a regeneration. There was a surgery, a few thousands years into the future, that would fix that problem. Unfortunately you were nervous and even slightly scared, but you kept that to yourself.

"Y/N!"

You jumped slightly at his raised voice. He raised and eyebrow, lips twitching up in amusement.

"What?"

"I've been saying your name for the last five minutes." He chuckled.

You frowned, were you really that lost in your thoughts?

"No you haven't."

"You're right, it was..." He glanced down at his watch.

"Four minutes and fifty-six seconds."

You rolled your eyes and leaned against the counter, crossing your arms.

"Why are you awake?"

He shrugged, grabbing your cup of coffee. He gave you a smug smile as he took a drink of it. You stared at the cup of hot coffee, jealous.

"I heard you moving about. I'm not deaf, you were like an elephant crashing around in here."

"Well you are certainly old enough to be deaf." You replied cheekily.

"Oi!"

You laughed as you made your way out of the kitchen and to the console room. He followed behind you and you could feel his eyes on you, probably giving you a look like he was analyzing you. You spun around to face him, catching him off guard.

"What?"

He looked at you confused and you smirked.

"You're making that face you make when you're thinking."

He looked shocked, as if he didn't expect you to read him so easily.

"No I wasn't." He lied weakly.

You fixed him with dry look and shook your head. The Doctor walked over to you, standing beside you as you stared at the TARDIS doors. The hospital was just on the other side of them. The Doctor, being protective of you as always, wouldn't take you to anywhere but the best hospital in this universe. You briefly consider the fact that he would most definitely would travel to a parallel universe if it meant they had a better hospital for you.

"You're scared."

You immediately felt on guard, you knew there was no reason to but you couldn't help it.

"I'm not scared, Doctor."

You never really called him dad, but he didn't take that personally, he knew he could never replace your father. That's not to say you've never called him dad, and he felt proud in those moments when you did.

"Then you're nervous, and don't deny it, I've been watching you play with your necklace all morning." He said.

The necklace he was referring to was a simple silver chain, with your mother and father's wedding rings on it. You cursed yourself for having such and obvious give away.

"So what if I am, I get to be cut open like a cantaloupe. You'd be nervous to." You huffed.

"Well actually they won't be-"

"Doctor."

You loved him, but you didn't want to hear him go into a detailed explanation of everything they'd be doing to you. He got the message and fell silent. Instead, he held his arm open for you and you welcomed the hug. You exhaled shakily as he held you tightly.

"You'll be fine, Y/N. I'll be right there when you wake up." He promised.

You nodded, clinging to him tightly, just like you did when you lost your parents. The Doctor walked you into the hospital lobby, and they took you to a prepping room. The Doctor paced nervously, regretting drinking that coffee now that he was so wired. What felt like days to him, in reality was only a few hours, was the nurse telling him he could see you now. He impatiently followed her to your hospital room sighing in relief when he saw you were okay and just now waking up.

"Dad?"

Your voice was hoarse, a side effect of the anesthesia he assumed. He is hearts stored hearing you call him dad, it was the rare moments like that, that made him happier than most. He grabbed your hand smiling.

"Right here."

"Everything hurts." You groaned.

He chuckled and you gave him a sleepy smile.

"I suppose you've got your own little battle scar now."

"That's pointless, it'll be gone when I regenerate, which is inevitable, no matter how many times you try to prevent it." You laughed.

"I'm convinced it's that human side of that makes you so stubborn." He sighed.

You squeezed his hand. He'd been there for you through everything, almost gave his life for you a few times as well. He was the man who told you the most epic stories of your parents. He may not have been your birth father, but that didn't change the fact that he was your dad.

"I love you dad."

"I love you too, Y/N."

He kissed your forehead, making you smile.

..........................................................................

Tag List: @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @adira-secrets @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @justheretoscrollpast @gingernarwal

#doctor who oneshot #10th doctor #doctor who imagine #doctor who #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor imagine #10th doctor x you #10th doctor one shot #10th doctor x daughter reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x daughter reader

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sachigram · 6 years

Text

Hearts Like Ours Chapter 4

((click here to read on ao3!)

It's a complicated thing, the human mind.

Izaya has always loved studying the way people tick, what makes them, them. He loves the different expressions, the triumphs, the hardships. He loves people, and he loves pushing them to their limits, making them stronger than they ever thought possible. He loves watching people face their fears.

He doesn't love it in himself, however.

He hates the things his mind is afraid of, even more so now. He can't stop himself no matter how much he dislikes it, even if he knows fear is a useless thing for him to feel. It does nothing for him. Most people feel fear, and they know to stay away from things. High altitudes, deep oceans, dangerous animals—all things to be avoided.

Izaya has always charged at what scared him, full speed ahead.

He doesn't allow himself to be frightened away, even in the interest of self-preservation. He's always known Shizuo could and likely would one day destroy him—but he never factored in that he'd be alive to regret it in the aftermath.

His body was broken, and it healed. It took time and work Izaya didn't want to put into it, but he eventually got over himself enough to work through his pain and make it out of the chair, then away from the crutches.

His mind, even still sharp as ever, is far from healed. And what's worse, Shizuo has no idea, and won't leave him alone.

As payback for the crude drawings on his face, Shizuo has taken to barging into Izaya's daily life, usually just to piss Izaya off, which he's unnaturally good at. Worse yet, there isn't a lot Izaya can do about it. Sure, he could call the police, but as Namie mentioned before, it'd cause a great deal of commotion and there's no definitive proof they could even get Shizuo to leave. He could jam a knife in Shizuo's throat, but then he's almost positive Shizuo can regenerate himself like a microscopic life form, or a horrible alien creature from a horror movie. Plus, then Shizuo would almost definitely snap his neck in retaliation, and Izaya would be killing a human being anyway, if he killed Shizuo, loathe though he is to admit it.

He does his best to ignore Shizuo, and he tries to shake Shizuo off his trail when he can, but he's never been good at hiding from the beast, who has chased him for as long as he can remember. It seems every time he turns around, Shizuo is there, on his heels, reaching out to grab him.

He only wishes his body wasn't so scared of Shizuo. His heart physically aches from the constant adrenaline he feels when Shizuo is around.

“That man isn't here today?” Namie asks, breaking his thoughts.

“Yes, he is. Can't you see his daunting form on the couch?” Izaya asks, motioning to nothing. She huffs at him.

“It's getting to be strange when he isn't around. It's been almost two weeks of him barging in, and neither of you even talking. It just seems pointless, given your history.”

“You know nothing of our history,” Izaya says. “Besides, haven't you heard of an impasse? Talking isn't required.”

“Whatever,” Namie says, flipping her hair. “You're not completely stupid, though. You know things can't continue this way.”

Closing his browser, Izaya sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk.

“That was almost a compliment, Namie,” he tells her, delighting when her expression sours.

“I'm just curious to know where all this is going. Even you can't fight fate.”

“Fate. Right.” Izaya stretches, wincing a bit when his lower back twinges. “You don't share a mark with the one you love. It hasn't stopped you, has it? Where is fate in that scenario?”

She slams her hands down on the table, leaning in to glare at Izaya, who only smiles at her pleasantly.

“Don't pretend to understand my situation. It's entirely different. I'm not the one living in denial,” she hisses, pointing at him. “I don't even have a—“

“A mark. I know that. How could you possibly think I didn't know that? You don't have a mark, how shocking! It doesn't matter. You're one of the lucky ones,” Izaya says.

“Lucky!” She laughs incredulously, her eyes narrowing at him. “In a world where people are born knowing who they're meant to be with, I'm one of the lucky ones because I was meant to be with no one? Your logic is even more twisted than usual.”

“You're lucky because you're free to choose.” Izaya shrugs on his coat. “Besides, people put entirely too much stock in the soulmate thing anyway. Did you know forty percent of people never encounter their soulmates at all? Another twenty learn their soulmates died a long time ago. And then a whopping ten percent, like you, have no mark at all.”

“A thirty percent chance of meeting your soulmate before it's too late,” Namie says, “and you think it's unlucky you've found yours. Of course you do.” She folds her arms across her chest. “You're determined to die alone.”

“Dying alone is better than dying with someone who hates you,” he says placidly. “Shizu-chan will realize that, in time. It's better to let him fizzle himself out.”

“Oh, please,” she says. “The only thing you hate about him is that he hates you.”

He opens his mouth to retort something biting about her incestuous crush, but his door opens, and Shizuo strolls in, like he has every day this week. Izaya pinches the bridge of his nose. Namie looks positively gleeful.

“We were just talking about you,” she says.

“Thought I had the heebie jeebies,” Shizuo replies easily.

“Feel free to stick around, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, and he doesn't miss the way Shizuo's eyes widen in response. “I have places to be.”

“Places?” Shizuo asks.

“A meeting,” Namie supplies.

“Lock up when you're leaving,” Izaya tells her, passing them both. He clenches his teeth when Shizuo turns on his heel and starts following after Izaya instead. “You can't come.”

“Sure as hell seems like I can,” Shizuo says, unfazed. Izaya laughs.

“This particular client doesn't like intruders. If anything happens, don't say I didn't warn you.” Izaya twirls to look at Shizuo, walking backwards so he can observe Shizuo's face. “If you end up stabbed or worse, it'll be funny, at least.”

“Is it like a Yakuza meeting?” Shizuo asks, frowning at Izaya. “Turn around. You're gonna fall.”

“Don't worry about me. It's disgusting.” Izaya turns anyway, tiring of looking at Shizuo's stupid face. “You can't just do whatever you want all the time. Maybe you'll be reminded of that today.”

Outside the building, it's a cold, biting day. The cold snap happened all at once, coming after the bout of seemingly endless rain. Izaya puts his hood up, shivering a bit as he makes his way over to the sleek black car parked across the street in its usual spot.

“Good afternoon,” the driver states. He makes a face as Shizuo climbs into the car next to Izaya, who scowls and scoots away from him. “Who is this, Orihara-san?”

“Heiwajima Shizuo,” Shizuo says.

The driver pales, clearly knowing of Shizuo's reputation. “I...see. I was sent to only pick up Orihara-san.”

“Tough shit,” Shizuo says. A moment later, the car is in motion.

“You're so annoying,” Izaya informs him, looking out the window at the people walking around, bundled up and hunched in their posture.

“That's you,” Shizuo says back. Neither of them says another word during the ride, though they do shove each other a bit. Izaya stops shoving when his head slams against the window, courtesy of Shizuo's monster paw.

“Shit. Sorry,” Shizuo says.

“Shut up,” Izaya says.

“Here we are!” The driver says, sounding somewhat relieved. “They're waiting for you inside. I'll escort you, of course.”

They exit the car, and Izaya pulls his hood up, ignoring the bite of the cold. He's always been cold natured, but his back hurts more when he's hunched over for warmth, and to make matters worse, his head hurts both from Shizuo's presence, and because he was just pushed into a window.

“This can't be right,” Shizuo's voice says. Izaya looks over at him as they walk inside.

“Shiki is a man of simple, yet refined tastes,” Izaya says. “This is the right place.”

“You've been here before?” Shizuo asks.

“Often, for meetings. Have you not been here? It's nice.”

They walk past the bouncer, who only nods at them. The club is busy for the daytime, the bass blaring through the speakers, which only makes Izaya's headache worse. He hopes they'll be out of here soon, but Shiki never keeps him long. He looks over again at Shizuo, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

“Why, Shizu-chan. Have you never been to a strip club?” Izaya asks gleefully. Shizuo's red face becomes even redder.

“Yes, but not by choice. Tom dragged me a few times, always saying it was for work. It was always easier to endure knowing I could punch someone soon,” Shizuo says, barely audible over the music. Izaya has to strain to hear him.

“You can always go,” Izaya informs him.

“Like hell,” Shizuo retorts.

“I hope you go deaf and then die,” Izaya mutters.

“What?” Shizuo asks loudly, frowning at Izaya like he already knows Izaya said something biting.

“I said—“

“Izaya,” a smooth voice says. Izaya schools his features as he's escorted into the private booth Shiki and his entourage are occupying. There are three women on different stages right now, all slender and beautiful in their own ways. The muscly men on either side of Shiki are busier watching them than Izaya. Killing Shiki would be easy, if that was his intent. He'll have to mention that to Shiki, one day. For now, Izaya likes having the upper hand, in case he's ever double crossed.

“Always a pleasure, Shiki,” Izaya says, holding his hand out. Shiki shakes, but not before he gives Izaya a stern once over.

“It's been a long time. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I didn't consider you'd bring a guest.”

Izaya glances over at Shizuo, who is already pressed close in the booth. Their shoulders are touching, the irony of which isn't lost on Izaya. Their marks are separated only by clothes.

“I have a new shadow. I can't seem to shake him,” Izaya says, grinning at Shiki.

“Shizuo,” Shiki says, looking Shizuo over. “Is there a reason you're here?”

“I'm with him,” Shizuo says, motioning to Izaya.

“Really? Have you two become friends?” Shiki asks. The look Izaya gives him must speak for itself, because Shiki laughs before continuing. “How odd, then. We were prepared for a chair. Not for the cause.”

“A chair?” Shizuo asks.

“A wheelchair. I was told Izaya needed one.”

The room seems smaller, all of a sudden. Izaya can feel Shizuo's eyes on him, but he doesn't meet the monster's gaze. He focuses on the man across from him, who has always been fair, yet a pain in Izaya's ass.

“Your information is wrong, but then again, I haven't been around to give it to you. I'm perfectly unscathed,” Izaya says.

“I see.” Shiki puts his elbows on the table, peering closely at him. “You don't look unscathed.”

“I've looked worse,” Izaya hisses, trying hard not to clench his teeth. He can feel Shizuo still looking at him.

“Right,” Shiki says. “I trust you got my message?”

“The one about not returning? I got it, but I'm afraid I couldn't listen. There's much to do.”

“Indeed there is. Do you have what I asked for?”

“Do I ever have anything less?” Izaya asks, smiling. What Shiki asked for was child's play, after all. “You'll find what you're looking for here.” He passes a small piece of paper across the table. “He'll be there tonight.”

“Good. It's time to put this to rest.” Shiki passes the paper to one of the muscly men, who seems to have finally remembered he's here for a job. “Now then. Why else were you here?”

Izaya pauses, his eyes cutting to Shizuo again. “We can return to that at a later date.”

“I'm a busy man,” Shiki says. “Surely you aren't assuming I'll be waiting for another meeting more convenient for you?”

Izaya bites at his tongue for a moment before laughing lightly.

“Of course not! I understand your schedule, and I sympathize. I only meant to save my own wants for another time and place. I never want to seem ungrateful. But since you insist, I'll get to my point.” He sighs softly, inaudibly, knowing Shizuo is listening to his every word. “Junichi Watanabe. Does the name mean anything to you?”

Shiki visibly stills, his eyes boring into Izaya's.

“Is this why you've returned?” he asks.

“Partly. Please, if you're able, tell me what you know of him.”

“He used to work closely with us,” Shiki says. There's a round of applause as a woman does a complicated maneuver on the pole. “He doesn't anymore.”

“He has...become a person of interest to me,” Izaya says.

“He's dangerous,” Shiki replies, glancing first at Shizuo, then at Izaya.

“I'm aware. One of his men stabbed my friend.”

Shizuo is staring openly at Izaya now, but Izaya doesn't dare look away from Shiki, who can zero in on any moment of weakness like a vulture swooping down for prey.

“I'm sure the goal was to invoke a rise from you,” Shiki says.

“A line was drawn. I'm doing my own research, of course, but you're always on about how you 'owe me one'. I thought maybe you were the man to talk to. You usually are,” Izaya says.

“I knew him. He had...radical ideas. Do you know why he might be targeting you?”

“I gave him the wrong information.”

“Deliberately?”

Izaya's stomach turns. “Yes.”

“I see,” Shiki says, looking over as a beautiful woman with huge breasts passes them. His eyes cut back to Izaya's. “You're valuable to us a source. I can offer protection.”

“And have someone in my space all day, every day? I have enough of that with Shizu-chan. I'd rather do this my way.”

“In that case, I ask you don't get yourself killed. That's all I can do.”

Izaya could say Shiki owes him a lot more than that, and mention He knows Junichi was part of Shiki's little entourage in the past. He could refuse to leave until he knew more. Instead, he offers a smile, and he stands, knowing Shiki's game, and refusing to play along.

“Then I thank you for your time. I'll see you later,” Izaya says.

“I hope so.” Shiki looks between Izaya and Shizuo again, and then he grins. “I told you it wasn't a good idea to return to the city, Izaya. But I think you've grown since then.”

“Have I?” Izaya asks.

“I believe so. I think this is all good for you. You were such a brat before.”

Outside the building, the driver is gone, undoubtedly wanting to get as far away from Izaya and Shizuo as possible. Izaya can't even blame him. He and Shizuo have an outstanding reputation.

Thankfully, Shizuo is silent as they walk. Izaya shivers, walking as fast as he can. His whole body aches, and he's ready to be in the warmth again.

“Izaya,” Shizuo begins.

“Not now,” Izaya says, meaning 'not ever.' He hopes Shizuo gets that, but he doubts it.

By the time they get back, the sun is setting. Izaya hurries inside and soaks in the warmth, and he bustles around the kitchen to make some tea, even going as far as to make Shizuo some. He's feeling rather hospitable, seeing as how whether he knows it or not, Shizuo is acting as a bodyguard. No one would dare jump Izaya with Shizuo looming beside him.

“What he said...” Shizuo murmurs, looking down at his teacup.

“It's not important,” Izaya says. “It's my business.”

“Were you in a wheelchair?”

Izaya flops onto his couch, leveling his gaze at Shizuo. “Dos that matter?”

“Yes,” Shizuo says. “Did I put you in a wheelchair?”

“Yes,” Izaya replies easily. “You did. I couldn't use my legs for a while. And now I can. End of story.”

Shizuo looks down into his cup, his brows furrowed.

“I had nightmares where I killed you. I lost control. And even if you pushed me, I—“

“Right. I did push you. I pushed you until you broke, Shizu-chan.”

“I'm sorry,” Shizuo says. Izaya ignores him.

“Nothing else matters right now. If I can't get you to leave, you'll at least be quiet while I work. I think that's fair.”

Shizuo is quiet, which is a good sign. Izaya goes to his computer and continues his research. He knows of the man who ordered the stabbing of Shinra. A cocky, vain extremist who used to work with the Yakuza. He had enlisted Izaya's help in planting a bomb in a crowded hotel. Izaya had tipped off the police, not wanting all that carnage.

Junichi must have known Izaya sold him out. But surely he knew better than to think Izaya would go along with such a massive loss of life. Izaya loves humans, even if he doesn't agree with them. He wanted Junichi to fail.

“It's late,” Izaya says after a while. He's been typing away steadily, now on a chatroom for the sake of taking a break. He usually ignores Shizuo, not wanting to give Shizuo the satisfaction of knowing he's even bothered.

“I guess,” Shizuo says. He's watching TV, sneaking glances at Izaya every now and then.

“Are you leaving soon?”Shizuo usually does. He only stayed the night once by accident.

“I wanna finish this episode,” Shizuo says stubbornly. Some cooking show is playing.

Izaya rolls his eyes and puts his head down, reading the responses across his screen. This chatroom is pure recreation, but no less interesting than any other. He replies every now and then, but it's hard to keep up with. His eyelids are heavy, and his head still hurts.

Everything hurts.

He looks up and sees Shizuo above him, eyes cold and hard. Shizuo is reaching for him, for his neck.

“Do it,” Izaya hears himself saying, but it isn't what he wants. He's so afraid, wants to run, but his body won't let him. He's just too proud t say anything different.

Shizuo's hands close around his neck. “I hate you so much,” Shizuo says, eerily calm. “Everything would be so much better without you around.”

Izaya cries, but it doesn't matter. He's dying, and he did this to himself. He knows that. He's always known this is how it would end, and he pushed anyway.

“Izaya!”

He wails, fighting the hands on him, not daring to go out without a fight.

“Wake the fuck up! Izaya—!”

He opens his eyes to find himself at his desk, Shizuo looming over him. Izaya's nails are embedded in Shizuo's arms, blood staining Shizuo's pristine white sleeves.

“What the fuck,” Shizuo breathes, letting go of Izaya when he sees Izaya is awake.

“I...”

“You were crying. And then...”

“It was just a stupid dream,” Izaya says, standing and trying to pass. Shizuo grabs his arm.

“A dream about what?” he asks.

“A monster,” Izaya says, and Shizuo flinches, but doesn't let him go.

“Did... Am I...” Shizuo struggles with words, and then he looks up at Izaya. “Am I the reason you can't sleep?”

“Don't give yourself so much credit,” Izaya says, pulling his arm free. “Go home. I'm going to bed.”

Shizuo looks at him as if he wants to argue, and then his eyes soften. He nods, and then he leaves.

Izaya's stares after him. He locks the door behind Shizuo, and then he goes back to work. He won't sleep; he knows that already.

He'd rather stay awake than relive that again.

#hearts like ours #shizaya #drrr!!#Izaya Orihara #Shizuo Heiwajima #izaya lives in denial

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infernosmelody · 6 years

Text

BEYOND LEVEL 1 ( BARD )

–「 canon 」 due to Mordai not being within a campaign, he will be RP’d based off of milestone EXP, meaning that as the threads go on, he will gain experience and level up !!! But, due to this, his bard ( and later on, his other class, ▆▆▆▆ ) ways, and how the dungeons and dragon’s system works, I want to plan out his actual course of actions and spells, yet, these can change, especially depending on the people he meets and how desperate he becomes. Below the cut, everything will be broken down into sections, from FEATS to SPELLS.

( official 5e bard information. )

FEATS.

Jack of All Trades. ( lvl 2 )

Starting at 2nd level, you can add half your proficiency bonus, rounded down, to any ability check you make that doesn't already include your proficiency bonus.

Meaning that in threads, he can wiggle and bullshit his way out of most situations if he’s desperate enough.

Song of Rest. ( lvl 2 )

Beginning at 2nd level, you can use soothing music or oration to help revitalize your wounded allies during a Short Rest. If you or any friendly creatures who can hear your Performance regain Hit Points by spending Hit Dice at the end of the Short Rest, each of those creatures regains an extra 1d6 Hit Points. The extra Hit Points increase when you reach certain levels in this class: to 1d8 at 9th level, to 1d10 at 13th level, and to 1d12 at 17th level.

Meaning in threads, he can attempt to heal others with his music, ( using his viol typically ) and while it may not heal major wounds it can heal another from any scuffle that they might’ve gotten themselves into.

Expertise. ( lvl 3 )

At 3rd level, choose two of your skill proficiencies. Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of the chosen proficiencies. At 10th level, you can choose another two skill proficiencies to gain this benefit.

aka, this jerk will become double proficient ( expert ) in acrobatics && sleight of hand.

Countercharm. ( lvl 6 )

At 6th level, you gain the ability to use musical notes or words of power to disrupt mind-influencing effects. As an action, you can start a Performance that lasts until the end of your next turn. During that time, you and any friendly creatures within 30 feet of you have advantage on Saving Throws against being Frightened or Charmed. A creature must be able to hear you to gain this benefit. The Performance ends early if you are Incapacitated or silenced or if you voluntarily end it (no action required).

Meaning in threads, he can attempt to disable charms && fright upon other characters, but only if he has time to do such an action ( as in, pulling out his viol ).

Magical Secrets. ( lvl 10 )

By 10th level, you have plundered magical knowledge from a wide spectrum of disciplines. Choose two Spells from any class, including this one. A spell you choose must be of a level you can cast, as shown on the Bard table, or a cantrip. The chosen Spells count as bard Spells for you and are included in the number in the Spells Known column of the Bard table. You learn two additional Spells from any class at 14th level and again at 18th level.

Meaning in threads, he has the possibility of learning a few different spells from other classes, but that will depend on the partner.

COLLEGE OF LORE.

Bards of the College of Lore know something about most things, collecting bits of knowledge from sources as diverse as scholarly tomes and peasant tales. Whether singing folk ballads in taverns or elaborate compositions in royal courts, these bards use their gifts to hold audiences spellbound. When the applause dies down, the audience members might find themselves questioning everything they held to be true, from their faith in the priesthood of the local temple to their loyalty to the king. The loyalty of these bards lies in the pursuit of beauty and truth, not in fealty to a monarch or following the tenets of a deity. A noble who keeps such a bard as a herald or advisor knows that the bard would rather be honest than politic. The college’s members gather in libraries and sometimes in actual colleges, complete with classrooms and dormitories, to share their lore with one another. They also meet at festivals or affairs of state, where they can expose corruption, unravel lies, and poke fun at self-important figures of authority.

Such is gained at level 3, though unlike many bards of this college, he tends to just listen to the people, talk around the campfire, find out what the people believe.

Cutting Words. ( lvl 3 )

Also at 3rd level, you learn how to use your wit to distract, confuse, and otherwise sap the confidence and competence of others. When a creature that you can see within 60 feet of you makes an Attack roll, an ability check, or a damage roll, you can use your reaction to expend one of your uses of Bardic Inspiration, rolling a Bardic Inspiration die and subtracting the number rolled from the creature’s roll. You can choose to use this feature after the creature makes its roll, but before the GM determines whether the Attack roll or ability check succeeds or fails, or before the creature deals its damage. The creature is immune if it can’t hear you or if it’s immune to being Charmed.

An addition to countercharm almost. Mordai will be able to use his sharp tongue to at least distract or completely get out of a situation if it arises. However, this most likely will not be his only use for sharp words, and he can use it as a more so ‘ bluff ‘ than anything.

Additional Magical Secrets ( lvl 6 )

At 6th level, you learn two Spells of your choice from any class. A spell you choose must be of a level you can cast, as shown on the Bard table, or a cantrip. The chosen Spells count as bard Spells for you but don’t count against the number of bard Spells you know.

Spells will be listed below, but, they can change depending on who his partner is at the time ( as all threads with each character is in a technical ‘ different ‘ verse unless stated otherwise ).

Peerless Skill ( lvl 14 )

Starting at 14th level, when you make an ability check, you can expend one use of Bardic Inspiration. Roll a Bardic Inspiration die and add the number rolled to your ability check. You can choose to do so after you roll the die for the ability check, but before the GM tells you whether you succeed or fail.

It practically gives him the ability to be a show off ( depending on the situation, I will typically roll a dice actually to see if he’d even attempt such a thing ).

KNOWN SPELLS.

as someone who’s played dungeons and dragons a bit differently in the past ( where the dm allowed characters to have a ‘ spell book ‘ of sorts of spells that they could use, just not always prepared ) that is going to be the same way as I write them down here. Mordai would have a leather bound book with spells that peaked his interest, considering he has made quite a few deals with sorcerers and the like to gain access to some of their knowledge. Because of this, he will only use spells within reason ( never pulling out his spell book mid - fight ).

The spells listed below are specifically from his bard spell set. Other spells that he gains from FEATS will be decided within threads.

CANTRIPS.

Mage hand, Vicious mockery, Minor Illusion, Mending.

1st LEVEL.

Cure wounds, Thunderwave, Faerie fire, Feather fall, Sleep.

2nd LEVEL.

Cloud of Daggers, Calm Emotions, Blindness / Deafness, Enhance Ability, See invisibility.

3rd LEVEL.

Nondetection, Leomund’s tiny hut, Dispel magic.

4th LEVEL.

Dimension door.

5th LEVEL.

Dream, Seeming, Modify memory, Legend lore, Greater restoration, Geas.

6th LEVEL.

Guards and wards.

7th LEVEL.

Teleport, Resurrection, Regenerate, Forecage.

8th LEVEL.

Dominate Monster.

9th LEVEL.

Power word kill.

#c. 🎻 ▍ rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard ▍canon.

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snkcrack-writer · 7 years

Text

Rogue X Armored Titan part 1/?

Okay, so before I start writing this, this is meant for @redcoaster XD. I’m gonna do it based off of your fanfic a little so I hope you like it. I have to warn you though that I’m not good at writing fight scenes so sorry if it’s bad. Also, for the sake of this to go right, I’m just gonna say that the Female Titan is alive, you’ll see why later. The Colossal Titan isn’t up on the walls, it’s just Rogue, the Armored, and the Survey Corps. This is the unedited version of the story, meaning that this will have adult themes and dare I say it, titan sex. Enjoy!

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Summary: Corporal Levi had thought he had seen everything when it came to titans. He’d seen titans eat his comrades, he’d seen the colossal titan and armored titan take down Wall Maria, he’d met a overgrown toddler of a titan that happened to be the guardian of two teens that had joined the Survey Corps.

He really thought he’d seen it all.

However, he had not seen this coming. At all….

———————————————————— ———————————————————— Story begins now…. ———————————————————— ———————————————��————

Part 1:

Hange watched nervously perched on the side of the wall as Rogue and the Armored Titan battled out to the death. She watched as the Armored swung a right hook to Rogues’ jaw, seeing him duck just in time to deliver a uppercut to his opponent. It did nothing to deter the Armored Titan, it didn’t even seem to leave a scratch as the beast huffed in agitation before beginning to advance to Rogue. Charging at the emerald green eyed titan, the armored huffed out a puff of steam before ramming into Rogue at his middle similar to a bull, sending him flying back.

“Rogue!”, came a shout of worry and fear. Looking to the side, Hange saw that it was, as expected, Armin and Mikasa, both of them looking ready to jump down there and help their friend who struggled to get back up. The scientist could see others around her sweating nervously, she could also see that Rogue seemed to be between a rock and a hard place. It looked as if he was having a mental battle with himself, the elf eared titan looking back at the wall and back at the armored every few seconds.

The Armored Titan was walking, taking his sweet time to reach Rogue who kept backing up every time his opponent took a step forward. He didn’t know what to do dammit! He didn’t want to endanger his family who watched on helplessly, he didn’t know what the titan in front of him could do to them! However, he also needed help. He didn’t understand just how he could do this when no matter what he did, the Armored Titan didn’t have a single scratch on him! It was like he was a walking wall, impenetrable no matter what he did. Groaning in frustration, Rogue looked back at the towering wall that came closer every time he heard his enemy move, holding his side as it regenerated. Deciding what to do, Rogue began to think hard. Either keep going backwards, potentially endangering his family, or…

Looking up, Rogue, still in his fighting stance and steaming around his middle area as he held his side, glanced at the forest behind the Armored Titan. …Or, he could hide in that forest, buying enough time for his family to get away! Especially his babies!

It looked to be tall enough to cover most of his body, in fact, Rogue bet that all that wouldn’t be covered would be the top of his head, which could easily be sliced by him hunkering down. Brainstorming, Rogue thought up a plan. He waited until the Armored Titan had gotten close enough to him, almost at an arms reach, before he side stepped him and sprinted to the forest, eyes determined. His elongated ears pressed back against his head as he bolted, his quite advanced hearing catching the frustrated growl that the Armored had let out before he heard the thundering steps of the turns chasing him.

“Rogue! Get back here!”, came a shout from someone, most likely Levi which fell on deaf ears as the two titans sprinted away playing chase.

Rogue almost let a trill of glee escape his lipless mouth, his plan was working! The Armored was following him to the forest, away from his family, away from his babies! Now, the only thing he had to do was reach the forest and plan his execution now that no one was around to interfere. Running almost at top speed, Rogue ran into the forest, the greenery immediately sheltering his large frame as he dodged numerous trees. Lightening his body weight to go faster and quieter, the dark haired brunet 15 meter began his plan.

Using his ears to pinpoint the location of his enemy, eyes set forward to look where he was going, Rogue noticed that the Armored Titans’ footsteps were coming from his right and getting closer by the second. Going back to almost top speed, Rogue hunkered himself down to will himself to go faster and faster. Legs pumping beneath him, he ventured into a part of the forest where the trees became taller in height and more tightly packed, causing him to slow and dodge even more trees, not wanting to slam into one on accident.

He could still hear the Armored Titan gaining on him, the vibrations from the titans’ large frame rattling even Rogue as he stumbled upon a clearing. Even though this wasn’t what he had in mind, Rogue would take it since his made takin down his target like the hunter he was, a lot easier. Realizing he had limited time, he out his plan into action. To his family, this trick would have been easily overlooked due to how many times he had done it to throw them off his path, but to a new foe, there was no way he would be found out quickly enough.

Quickly going over to some trees that led deeper into the forest, Rogue began to break the branches just in front of him, making it look as if he had ran through that area, making sure to chip some bark off the wood to make it seem like he crashed into them on accident. Once he was done, he quickly looked his work over and deemed it suitable enough. Ears standing on full alert when he heard a tree crash to the ground, Rogue noticed he most likely only had a few seconds before his enemy would appear. Looking around, Rogue looked for the nearest strongest tree that could hold him and ran to it, jumping up and gripping the bark with his sharp claws. Taking a cautious pull, Rogue began to climb once he saw that the tree wouldn’t teeter over from his weight. In record timing, the giant had scaled the tree and now rested up in the branches, crouched down similar to a dog (or Spider-Man. Which ever you prefer) as he waited for his target to appear.

Moments later, the Armored Titan came bursting through the trees, disrupting the tense silence that had overtaken the forest as he came to a stop in the middle of the clearing, right under Rogue. Said titan was tense, all muscles at the ready to execute as his emerald eyes trailed the now confused Titan below him. Due to the silence and his advanced hearing, Rogue was able to hear the Armored Titan smell and scent the area, looking for Rogue. He almost let a amused snort slip as he looked at the clueless titan who unknowingly walked right into his trap.

It was silent, too silent, almost as if the forest held its breath when finally, the Armored Titan looked up just to see Rogues’ foot come crashing down on his face, sending him into the ground, skidding backwards from the impact. Rogue then came crashing down to the earth, bracing himself to land on all fours similar to how a cat would have. Quickly, the animal like titan began to attack.

Rogue launched himself forward to start running at the Armored Titan on his legs, a mean left hook coming up to hit his dazed foe in the face, dizzying him even further as the armor covered titan slid on the ground in his two feet. Punch after punch after punch, Rogue attacked the Armored Titan viciously, the Armored Titan landing a hits just as fast as Rogue. However, when Rogue was gonna land a kick to his enemy’s middle, his ankle was grabbed as he was hoisted into the air and swung into a tree, tearing through it to end up sliding a bit far from where the clearings was.

Tumbling into the ground and little rivulets of steam seeping into the air from his cuts made from crashing into the foliage, Rogue rigidly got back up, looking at his opponent just in time to see the Armored come running at him. Bracing himself due to him not having enough time to move out the way, Rogue Jaeger caught the Armored Titans’ biceps and dug his feet into the ground, slowing the Titan down enough for him to roll away to the side and for the Armored to crash into another tree.

Rogue could see that the other titan was becoming angry, seeing him huff a jet of steam as he turned to look at him. But Rogue still had a plan at the ready. I mean, yeah, he wasn’t exactly sure on what to do, so right now the only thing that seemed to be working was to let the Armored Titan crash into the trees around him just like a animal known as the bull that he had seen in one of Armin’s books. Just then, the raging titan in front of him charged again, Rogue sidestepping again to let the turns crash into a tree. This continued on for quite some time. A sweat, however, rolled down his temple, Rogue nervously looking around them as he realized a fault in his plan. Due to all these trees that were falling, his ways to escape were becoming narrowed down due to the trees falling down on top of one another. There was no way he would be able to leave without getting caught and isn’t likely killed by the Armored. On top of that, his enemy was becoming angrier and angrier with every failed attempt at tackling him down, the armor around his jaw parting open to release a jet of steam that looked like fire for a second.

Rogue began to realize that he couldn’t keep this act up forever, eventually he’d end up barricading himself in with his foe, which really wouldn’t end right for him. Ears pricking forward and emerald orbs on their target, time seemed to slow when Rogue saw the Armored turn around and begin his advance. Looking pass the Armored, he saw that his only way out the circle of fallen trees was behind the other titan. He needed a way to stop him long enough to get out of there and make it back to his babies!

As time slowed, Rogue saw a blinding flash of light before suddenly, he was out of that clearing, in fact, he wasn’t anywhere near the forest where he was battling, or near the walls. Looking around, he saw that he was standing in a clearing that was filled with flowers and other vegetation. Around him were trees that seemed to tower high into the sky, reaching and touching the clouds without a care as birds chirped and spun in the air. In the distance, Rogue could see a beautifully raging waterfall surrounded by mountains, its stream of water bending by the clearing as sunlight poured into it.

‘Where…am..I..?’, he thought. When Rogue looked forward, he saw another titan in front of him, the one that was from his other memories! Even though the other titan was turned, Rogue knew that it was the one from his once lost memories. At that moment, the titan began to turn around, its stern gaze landing on Rogue who unconsciously straightened his back in response. The titan seemed to be observing him for a few moments, before the titan went into a fighting stance.

“Fight.”, was the only thing spoken the titan in front of Rogue waiting for him to do what was asked. At that, Rogue had blanked. What did he mean to fight? He didn’t want to fight another titan who could be his own! Trying to voice his disagreement, Rogue was shocked to find that he couldn’t speak, not even growl out a reply.

“Fight.” The word was repeated once more, the other titan patiently waiting for Rogue to attack, seemingly oblivious to the inner turmoil the behemoth was having. He didn’t want to do this! Why couldn’t this titan see this?! Trying once more to the disagree with the fellow titan, Rogue strained his vocal chords to make a single sound, heck a huff of all things would have been good.

However, it seems he had taken too long, for a flash of annoyance had flickered on the other titans face, before he was a flash and all of a sudden, Rogue was on the ground in a headlock. Acting purely on instinct, Rogue latched a hand onto the the bicep that curled around his neck, and although struggling, somehow managed to pull himself to his knees while the other titan curled his legs around Rogues’ waist and begun to bend his body back to try and yank Rogue down. It seemed though, that he wasn’t having any of that. Once Rogue managed to stand, he had ran up to a tree and twisted just in time to slam his back along with the other titan into the tree, effectively dislodging the unknown giant from his body.

Blinking in surprise at what he had just done, the shocked behemoth looked down at his hands. Looking up, he saw the similar titan standing there with his arms folded across his bare chest. Then, the titan opened his mouth,

“Control your emotions…fight to return home..”

And in a flash, Rogue was back to where he was, back to the fight and back to reality. Time was still slowed, but only for what felt like a nanosecond. Then everything returned to normal. The Armored Titan launched himself at Rogue, going full speed which shocked the brunet long enough for the Armored to smash into him, sending Rogue along with himself flying past the ring of trees and tumbling down a hill. Rocks and other debris from their surroundings flew down with the two titans who never separated during their fall.

They both came to a crashing halt, a large dust cloud flying up as they crashed into the ground, making a large crater. Steam rose in thick streams as the two titans regenerated. Bells rung in Rogues ears’ disorienting him further but before he could, the Armored Titan began to grab him around the waist and lift him up. Though, when Rogue noticed that his legs just so happened to be over the armor-plated titan’s shoulders and by his neck, Rogue felt instinct take over. Immediately, Rogues’ legs clamped down hard on his foes’ head, grabbing the arm that was around his waist and forcing himself down and letting gravity do the work. They slammed back toward the ground, adrenaline causing Rogue to not feel a thing as he growled heavily at the other titan who growled in response.

He began to apply an alarming amount of pressure to the Armored Titans’ head and shoulders, pulling at the arm he held, his muscles bulging in the effort that it took to do such a thing. He could hear the titan below him roaring in pain and anger and the sound of something hard cracking and breaking along with the sound of flesh being torn apart. Then, the arm he held was suddenly able to move freely instead of rigidly. Confused, Rogue looked down only to see that he had managed to rip off his preys’ arm! A wave of proudness washed over him as he looked at his prize, next thing he did was look at the Armored Titan and see that he had managed to crack some of the plating on his face.

He was actually winning! Rogue couldn’t believe it! But now was not the time to bathe in his small victory, he needed to wear him down enough so he could escape. Though, that would have been the plan, if Rogue had ripped both arms off.

He hadn’t. Which led to this event:

Roaring quite loud in agitation, the armor-plated titan wrapped his other arm around Rogues’ waist, moving up on the body as he flipped himself around to be the one on top. Then, he dug his feet into the ground and pushed Rogue against a huge tree, the trunk vibrating violently as the two titans crashed into it. That annoying ringing that had went away in Rogues’ ears came back full force, making the giant groan and wince in pain. The Armored Titan seemed to be trying to drive him into the ground with how powerful he was moving them both, he could feel the tree creak and splinter from the force of them.

(This is where the crack begins X3)

However, something made them halt. Something made them just stop moving. Rogue could feel…something weird prodding down below, something that seemed to pulse and move on its own. Looking downwards in confusion, Rogue could see that the Armored Titan was doing the same, only for one thought to come to Rogues’ innocent mind.

'Is…that a third leg?’

—-—————-—————-—————-—————-———— Here’s the first part XD the second part is where the full on crack begins. Sorry for any typos. —-—————-—————-————

#fanfiction #redcoaster #request #snk #aot #snk crack fics #Rogue x Armored Titan

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script101 · 7 years

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The Doctor Falls/Credo in unum Librium: The Script (or "Think but this")

O.K., TV Show. You win. :-D

You gave me both emotional beats I wanted but didn’t think I’d get in a million years (spoilers after the jump), and you explicitly compared the abomination currently living in Madam President Hillary Clinton’s House to sewage.

In return, I officially forgive you for “Lie of the Land”.

We ARE clearly intended to remember that in that dreadful episode Bill was able to resist the lies. So I will remember ONLY that very basic premise and I’ll throw the specifics of that episode (which I found repulsive both on a personal level and on a dramatic level) in the garbage where they belong.

All is mended.

I had written a quick idea on a way to get to the emotional beats I wanted to see in the finale. I also had a lot of still-unanswered questions, but personally, I like Sci-Fi Joss Whedon style: if given the choice between a plot twist and a pile of answers or a single believable emotional moment, go with the believable emotional moment (loosely paraphrased from his comments in a documentary titled “Showrunners”). If the characters ring true, that’s more important to me then checking off every single question box.

1.I’d hoped that the first viewing would be about Bill. 2.I wanted the second viewing to be about a different character.

I needed Bill to survive and move on and AWAY from The Doctor. 2.If the above happened, I wanted the second viewing to allow me to focus on the tragedy of Missy.

~~~~~~~~

Just Plain Bill

The moment she woke up in the barn, I knew. I’ve been harping on “mirrors”, so I started crying within seconds. I knew that she’d be given a mirror shortly and likely would still not grasp what had happened. I did note that Twelve WAS kind kind when he was explaining to Bill what had happened, and when psychopath started mocking her in that accent I wanted to punch him in his stupid round face. But everyone did, amirite? (As an aside, given Twelve’s expressions and the limp in the scene in the barn, I was almost expecting him to start speaking with an American accent and pull a bottle of Vicodin out of that bag of jelly beans…).

I had had a nagging worry that Bill would turn out to be related to the Doctor or Missy/Master somehow. That would have answered a ton of questions but it would have felt cheap.

I also know Steven Moffat can’t win, and there will be attacks about “hand of God” because of the way Bill survived, but I don’t perceive the ending that way. The way the finale played out, “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” DOES apply.

While describing what had happened to Bill, Missy said something that was entirely inconsistent with what she and the doctor had seen (there wasn’t a working heart to “scoop” out). We do not know what that gun did or did not do. We do not know what did or did not happen as part of being turned into a cyberman. We only know that the Doctor blindly believed he could fix it, only to later realize he could not.

As the extent of the injuries and harm Bill endured are unknowable (we cannot and should not believe the words of a psychopath who was getting off on inflicting as much suffering on those around him as possible), it is therefore plausible that an imaginary advanced technology (the sentient substance that was seen in “The Pilot”) was indeed able to cure Bill in a way that The Doctor could not.

And as far as I’m concerned, the conclusion of Bill’s storyline was FAR better than what I had suggested yesterday! Yesterday, in a post that intentionally had no hashtags, I mentioned something John Rogers’ had written: if you want to know what a show is about, rewatch the last scene of the pilot. I know that Bill’s rescue might feel unearned to some viewers, but I think it was perfectly foreshadowed in the last seen of “The Pilot”.

I also quite liked that when it came time to undo the horror that had happened to Bill, The Doctor was just set dressing. He didn’t help Bill. He didn’t save Bill. He was on the floor unconscious. His boasts and promises, no matter how sincere, were promises he has demonstrated over and over again that he could not keep.

I am no longer angry at Twelve (which is good since I bought most of seasons 8, 9, and 10!), but I do see his arrogance is unabated. It would have been disappointing to have had him control Bill (even if benignly!) all season, have her ripped from him by a psychopath who used and destroyed her simply to hurt the Doctor, only to have the Doctor claim credit for remedying the situation that only happened to Bill because of Bill’s proximity to the Doctor. I also am sad to admit that I still question how much he truly cared about Bill at all, as he consistently put her in too much danger and we were never told WHY he had chosen her out of his standing-room-only lectures.

To have Bill be rescued solely by Heather (young former-human who is making one helluva win out of a very bad situation!) after she learned how to control her new form of existence, all while the Doctor laid unconscious, was sadly perfect. He does not know that Bill survived. He cannot claim credit for Bill’s survival. With Heather, Bill now has complete agency over her future. I believe we can take Heather’s words as the truth: Bill can stay with Heather and be like her if she chooses, for as long as she chooses, or (“any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” applies!) Heather will make Bill fully human again if that is ever what Bill wants. It’s also significant that in “The Pilot” even though Bill sneaked into The Doctor’s lectures, she was only interested in the CLASS. He chose her for personal attention. Bill chose Heather and lost her. Heather chose Bill but could not control her new abilities. I was happy to see them fly away together. When the TARDIS doors closed behind them, that was the door slam heard around the…no where: there’s no sound in space…well yeah there’s sound inside the TARDIS…but if a TARDIS door slams closed in space and no one is conscious to hear it…OK YES it still produces sound waves inside said TARDIS, but…never mind.

I really am not angry at The Doctor anymore, but he had failed in every way possible, and Bill’s continued loyalty to him was less earned than the Full-Circle and explicitly foreshadowed possibility of seeing Heather again.

I liked it. I know there will be people who don’t, but I was very happy with it. I actually think it was perfect.

~~~~~~~~

Oh Missy, you really are so fine!

Like I wrote in the unhashtagged post, Michelle Gomez is so likable that her character literally can get away with murder. The way her death played out was tragic, but it was the only way the audience could truly believe that she was sincere in her attempt to reform. When Twelve pled to both Missy and the Master to please stand with him and simply TRY to help, Missy understood what The Doctor could not: her previous incarnation was simply too much of a psychopath to ever be redeemed. She said she could REMEMBER what it was like to think and “burn” the way he currently DOES (present tense) and that she will miss it.

Note that she REMEMBERS it because she DOES NOT perceive people or the world in that way any more. You can only MISS something when it’s GONE.

Understanding the paradox of them both being on that ship at the same time, and WITH HER OWN MEMORIES of being that other person NOW COMING BACK in flashes exactly as the Master’s memories of dying on the ship began FADING, Missy realized that she HAD successfully CONNED and SCARED her former self (Missy: “which REMINDS ME… a VERY SCARY LADY threw me against a wall and told me…”). This was all a ruse. Missy NEVER wavered in her intent to redeem herself.

The performances were perfect. Missy knew Twelve’s plea to her former incarnation was not even falling on deaf ears, instead Twelve would be heard clearly, would be mocked, and his words would be mined for any sign of compassion that could be exploited as a weakness. Every moment Twelve wasted trying to convince the Master to do the right thing was another moment giving the bastard ideas on how to undermine him. This was a situation where a lecture would HURT his chances at success. Missy knows who and what she had been, and she knew that the former version of herself would stop at nothing to undermine the Doctor and inflict as much pain and suffering upon the innocent inhabitants of that ship as possible. She needed to to make Twelve stop talking immediately. She needed to remove her former incarnation from the equation as quickly as possible.

She knew the only way to redeem herself was to commit one final act of violence. She had to stop her previous incarnation. The only way to do that was to make him trust her by appearing, just for the moment, to betray The Doctor.

She remembered being that man. Because she remembered it so clearly, she knew there was no reasoning with him. Her former incarnation had been a completely unrepentant psychopath. He perceived his cruelty as a sign of strength. Missy also remembered the scary woman, and now realized that woman had been HER.

Missy thought she would be able to get to the lifts, inflict a slow fatal injury upon her former self, allow him to make it back to his TARDIS in time to make the necessary repairs, leave, and regenerate into her current incarnation. She knew that would happen because it already did happen. It would resolve the paradox. As soon as the elevator doors closed, she intended to return to The Doctor and help him.

She understood her former self so well, yet she had genuinely changed so much that she failed to realize just how strong his current urge to “stop at nothing” was. I think she felt pity, and I think that is what cost her her life.

Her paradox-scrambled mind remembered the scary woman. Her paradox-scrambled mind DID NOT REMEMBER that her former self had murdered the scary woman.

The moment she was hit with the fatal blast, she realized the irony of her miscalculation.

That’s why she was laughing.

The Doctor gets the glory, but it was Missy who truly died a virtuous death. “Without hope. Without witness. Without reward.”

She died alone, apparently without the ability to regenerate, knowing the Doctor would always believe she had truly betrayed him. She knew the deck would be abandoned and destroyed. She knew she would never be found shot in the back. We know from “Heaven Sent” that her species takes “forever” to die even if they cannot regenerate.

Since her last words to the Doctor were words of betrayal spoken only with the intention of being heard by her former self, her sacrifice will never be known or even suspected. The only legacy of her existence will be the sins of her past.

We might THINK she killed Danny. We might WANT to think that she killed Danny. It’s easier to accept INTENT rather than “sometimes good people are the victims of terrible accidents.” The truth is, we have, per the scripts, ABSOLUTELY NO EVIDENCE TO INDICATE MISSY HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH DANNY’S DEATH.

But… We do know Missy murdered Dr. Chang, the young man who had worked for her and liked her, for no reason at all.

We know Missy murdered Osgood for no reason at all.

We know Missy murdered multiple UNIT officers, one of whom was the father of a newborn baby, for no reason at all.

Depending on when Steven Moffat decided on the storyline about “The Hybrid” being Clara and Twelve together, Missy might have let Twelve shoot the Dalek cage holding Clara Prime. Even if The Hybrid was planned when “The Witch’s Familiar” was filmed and Missy would NOT have let Twelve kill Clara, her motivation was still rotten.

Missy personally has done so many things that are just plan unforgivable.

Now, though, by deliberately having her die where none but the audience would ever know what truly happened, we have no choice but to accept that she had truly developed a conscience. She regretted her prior actions. Her tears were real. Her motives pure.

Psychopaths are devoid of empathy, but they can instantly recognize it and exploit it. I was correct that the expression on Missy’s face at the end of “World Enough and Time” was compassion. Missy WAS deeply upset when she realized the cyberman was Bill. We KNOW Missy felt compassion because the Master STATED DIRECTLY THAT HE SAW SHE WAS FEELING EMPATHY. It disgusted him.

As noted, Twelve is still arrogant. We will never know if this was just a short window when Missy would have wanted to do the right thing, or if she actually could have been a force for good in the universe who died before she knew how to handle crisis situations because Twelve rushed her into this idiotic test. We know Michelle Gomez will not be back next season. The Doctor is going to change appearance because of the events of this episode, Missy is just plain dead.

Had they cast ANY ACTRESS OTHER THAN MICHELLE GOMEZ as Missy, honestly, WOULD WE CARE?

I don’t think so.

But they did.

And I do.

Her story was tragic.

Bravo, Michelle Gomez!

And BRAVO to Steven Moffat and Rachel Talalay.

#doctor who #the doctor falls #12th doctor #twelfth doctor #missy #michelle gomez #bill potts #pearl mackie #Steven Moffat #Good Job Steven Moffat!#I'll chip in if TwitLer threatens to sue #john rogers #12 & Missy #12 and Missy

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organicdietguide · 4 years

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The Vertigo & Dizziness Exercises Treat | Balance Problems

How in the World Could Snoring Exercises Treat Vertigo?

It is actually quite simple.

You see, traditionally, vertigo is caused by three major factors:

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Pressure on the inner ear (water buildup, in the case of Ménière’s disease, and infection with vestibular neuritis).

Lack of blood flow to the brain. Low blood pressure is often blamed for this. But bad blood circulation is a more common cause. This is what often leads to stroke.

Miscommunication between the balance system in the ears and eyes. The ears tell you to move in a certain way, and the eyes in another way. That’s why people sometimes fall down when they close their eyes.

The snoring exercises loosen up and strengthen the muscles around the head.

This does three things:

It increases blood flow to the head. Most people think the heart is the only source of blood circulation. But all muscles act as mini-pumps that help the heart. The muscles in the neck are especially important to get blood flowing up to the brain.

It triggers the lymph system to remove toxins and extra fluids from the head area. It also fights infection in this area. Almost everyone, for example, has stiff jaws. When you begin to loosen up your jaw, it triggers the lymph system around the inner ear (very connected).

This is the only reliable way to remove fluid and fight inflammation in the inner ear.

These exercises position your head in the right way. If you look in the mirror, I guarantee your head doesn’t sit completely straight on the neck. I never met a person suffering vertigo or dizziness that had his or her head positioned 100% correct.

Your neck joints are like a cabinet door with wrongly adjusted hinges. They either bang into the other doors or won’t close properly.

This blocks blood flow.

But more importantly, it skews the balance between your eyes and ears. Your ears feel like your body is positioned in one way while your eyes perceive your position in a different way.

When you work on the muscles around your balance system, your head will be rightly positioned. Your ears and eyes will agree.

and when that happens, you won’t experience the vertigo and dizziness symptoms anymore!

As much as the medical system would like to cash in on costly, “cutting-edge” surgeries, these operations are almost always useless.

More importantly, it’s scary to learn how often these surgeries lead to serious hearing loss (even total deafness), damage to the inner ear, infection and other complications.

What Does NOT Cause Vertigo and Dizziness!

There are many myths about vertigo and dizziness and other balance problems, and I need to tell you about the more serious ones…Myth Number 1:

Vertigo and dizziness is just a normal part of aging.

Absolutely not.

You shouldn’t accept vertigo just because you’re getting older.

It sets on people as they age because of an underlying factor that commonly affects older people.

I’ll tell you more about this in a second.

However, if you tackle this underlying vertigo and dizziness factor, your vertigo will be gone in minutes – never to return – no matter what age group you belong to.

Myth Number 2:

Vertigo is a direct cause of another disease.

Ménière’s, vestibular neuritis and labyrinthitis are commonly blamed.

Yes, these diseases are associated with vertigo. But they aren’t the real underlying cause.

In fact, doctors have no idea what causes these diseases. They say Ménière’s causes vertigo and then state that vertigo is the main symptom of Ménière’s.

Like a dog chasing its tail, this just leaves you dizzier than ever and without a real solution.

Myth Number 3:

Medications and surgery cure vertigo and dizziness.

If they don’t know what causes vertigo, how are they going to cure it?

Now, I’ll always encourage everyone to listen to their doctors and follow their advice.

But if yours is not open to alternative methods, get a second opinion.

And when you have a doctor who is truly educated and honest, he or she will tell you that very few people benefit from vertigo medications and surgery.

In fact, the side effects are usually horrible. They’ll make your problems worse in the long haul.

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Common side effects of vertigo and dizziness medications are:

Dry mouth

Drowsiness

Nausea and vomiting

Blurred vision

Confusion

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The food we eat has important influences on our health. Dietary choices can alter or influence disease patterns & progress.

For vertigo patients, a little tweak in their dietary choices can either raise or lessen their risk of a vertigo attack and the discomfort causing associated symptoms.

Some people start feeling dizzy after eating certain food while others experience improvement in vertigo condition after going on a vertigo diet.

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Vertigo or dizziness is just a symptom that can be caused by over 40 diseases of the inner ear, the nervous system or the brain.

It is very important to diagnose the actual cause of vertigo or dizziness by conducting diagnostic tests and then the specialist doctor will be able to prescribe medicines, rehabilitation therapy & diet based on the underlining disease.

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The vestibular disorders stem from the inner ear, causing imbalance or dizziness. It may also cause visual or hearing disturbances as well.

It is important to diagnose the cause of vertigo to manage vertigo conditions. It is necessary to understand, what are the best foods for vertigo and what are those foods that trigger vertigo and should be completely avoided.

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If you are suffering from vertigo attacks, you may try some of the food tips mentioned hereafter consulting your doctor.

How food affects vestibular problems

Vertigo is a consequence of certain problems in the inner ear.

It can be an infection, mechanical problems like dislodgement of calcium carbonate particles (otoliths), inflammation, functional disorders, weak immune response, increased inner ear pressure, etc.

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The underlying pathological conditions need proper medication and treatment. Dietary modifications may augment the effect of medical management.

Foods to control vertigo Avoid These:

If you are experiencing vertigo conditions, here is a list of foods to avoid with vertigo:

Avoid consuming fluids that have high sugar or salt content in it such as concentrated drinks and soda. These are the foods that trigger vertigo.

Caffeine intake. Caffeine is present in coffee, tea, chocolate, energy drinks, and colas.

It may increase the ringing sensation in the ear of the person who has vertigo issues.

Caffeine has been reported to cause cell depolarization making the cells more easily excitable. Caffeine intake should be regulated in patients suffering from Meniere’s disease and vestibular migraine. Caffeine is strictly restricted in the vestibular migraine diet.

Excess salt intake. Salt causes retention of excess fluid in the body affecting the fluid balance and pressure. High salt in the diet interferes with the internal homeostasis of the vestibular system.

Patients with Meniere’s disease and vestibular migraine are asked to limit their salt intake or you may start feeling dizzy and trigger symptoms even further.

Food rich in sodium like soy sauce, chips, popcorn, cheese, pickles, Papas, and canned foods is to be avoided.

You may replace your regular salt with low sodium salt as sodium is the main culprit in aggravating vertigo.

Nicotine intake/Smoking. Nicotine is known to constrict the blood vessels. Vestibular problems arising due to vascular constriction will worsen by nicotine ingestion/smoking.

Nicotine reduces blood flow to the brain and hampers in recovery by vestibular compensation.

Alcohol intake. Alcohol adversely affects the metabolism, dehydrates the body, and its metabolites are harmful to the inner ear and the brain.

Alcohol may trigger severe vertigo attack, migraine, vomiting, and nausea in a vertigo prone person.

Alcohol may interfere with the central processing of the brain hampering vestibular compensation and affect cognitive functions negatively impacting the recovery of the patient.

It may also aggravate vertigo by altering the inner ear fluid dynamics. Wine is a known trigger of migraine attacks.

Processed food & meat are some of the foods to avoid with vertigo.

Bread and pastries can even trigger vertigo conditions.

Fried foods should be completely avoided when you go on a vertigo diet.

Pickles and fermented foods may aggravate symptoms of vertigo.

The above foods are shown to aggravate the conditions leading to vertigo. Avoiding these foods can help stabilize your condition.

Include These:Incorporate foods that are anti-inflammatory and detoxifying. They reduce the swelling of the tissue in the inner ear, repair the cells, and ensure healthy cell regeneration.

Drink plenty of water and stay hydrated.

Rich in potassium; tomatoes help flush out excess fluid from the body. Include tomato in your diet, it is counted as the best vertigo or dizziness treatment food.

These are rich in antioxidants, micronutrients and are anti-inflammatory too. Nuts are counted as one of the best foods for vertigo as they are rich in vitamins.

Nuts improve blood circulation in the body and inner ear, thereby reducing the inner ear pressure build-up due to excess fluid. However, in a vestibular migraine, nuts should be avoided.

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sclty95er-blog · 6 years

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TAIYI

patisser, 500+, son of the chinese moon goddess

Born of the flesh and blood of Chang’e (the Goddess of the Moon) and Houyi (the malevolent emperor who shot down the nine suns), Taiyi was given his life after his mother had consumed the Elixir of Immortality that was given to his father as a reward for saving humanity from the ten suns in the sky.

The lore goes that Houyi was tasked by the Gods with the mission of saving humanity from dying by killing the ten suns that dwelled in the sky. Upon the accomplishment of his task, he was awarded with two bottles of the Elixir of Immortality (one for him and one for his wife) but he had made the mistake of not consuming the Elixirs immediately with his wife and left it unguarded when he was tasked with another mission. Chang’e was left alone with both bottles and without means of guarding the potent medicines.

Fengmeng, a man who was jealous of Houyi’s feat, came to Chang’e demanding the Elixirs to be handed over, to which the female had denied. In order to deter the villain from getting his hands on something so precious, she drank both bottles in hopes of the medicine not landing in the wrong hands…However, underestimating the potency, Chang’e was indeed given immortal life but having consumed too much, the magical properties of potions had lifted her body to the sky.

Houyi returns home to the news of his wife’s departure and was immediately saddened by the events that transpired. Upset that this had happened and that his wife was now alone on the moon, he would place sweets and fruits as offering to her in the sky at night and spoke to her…But soon, his feelings turned from sadness to bitterness towards his wife for having done what she did. He blamed her for not protecting the Elixir as best she could, for not finding another way where she didn’t have to consume the potion.

His heroics in his early life earned him a place in society as an Emperor but his bitterness towards his wife had made him a malevolent tyrant. He stopped placing offerings to his wife, refused to speak of her passing. He wished her a life of loneliness and isolation.

Unbeknownst to Houyi, when Chang’e had consumed both bottles of the Elixir and ascended to the sky, she was carrying his son. Carrying the child for 9 months before giving birth to the boy, she named him Taiyi in remembrance of his father’s feat of shooting down the nine suns and she had hopes that her son would grow to be as great an archer as his father was. Taiyi grew up to the age of 10 without being discovered by his father.

Taiyi was supposed born of a human father and immortal mother but due to the potency of the Elixir his mother had ingested and having been born from her flesh and blood, Taiyi was gifted with immortality…Almost as if he was meant to accompany his mother into eternity in bliss on the moon.

However, that was not the case when Houyi discovered the birth of his son from a messenger of a God. Angered at the fact that Chang’e had company when he had wished her a life of isolation, he plead to the Gods above to bring his son down to Earth under the ploy that Chang’e already has a companion (the Jade Rabbit) on the moon while he was alone on Earth, without wife or heir, and the Gods took pity to Houyi and as a way to thank him for his services to them, they removed Taiyi from his mother’s custody and placed him on Earth to live with his father.

Taiyi left willingly, promising to return as soon as he can, but his father seemed to have another plan for his son. Houyi had greeted Taiyi with warmth upon their meeting and though he had intent of raising his son, he saw too much of Chang’e in the 11 year old boy and enraged by seeing a splitting image of his traitorous wife, he imprisoned Taiyi in a room with only a small window, cutting off all human contact to the poor boy. It was as if Houyi was trying to punish his wife on Earth as well as on the moon.

Taiyi spends most of his life in isolation, his only companions being the birds and animals that approached his window. He spends his nights awake and speaking to the moon, speaking to his mother (though he has no idea if she can hear him). His only human contact is through the door when the servants bring him food or when he’s watching people from a distance. An obedient boy, he prayed for a day that his father would come back and release him from his confines, he believed in the good in his father yet the day never came….

Growing tired and fearful of his isolation, he began to beg the servants that came to give him his food and water to set him free but that fell on deaf ears…He begged loudly for his father and even to his mother to save him. Begging and pleading from the immortal only landed on apathetic ears so Taiyi gathered his courage to figure out how to get out of the room through the small skylight. He could not fly like his mother, his powers limited solely to a prolonged life and speedy regeneration, he only had items in the room to assist his escape.

Stacking furniture and whatever else he could find that would give him height, Taiyi climbed the tower of items towards the skylight. The tower stood precariously in balance, any wrong move would cause massive injuries to him and draw attention to his escape…But perhaps Lady Luck took pity on the poor boy and helped him through the window and onto the roof. Free! He was free!!

Taiyi crept along the roof, trying to find an exit out of the palace…But in that moment, Lady Luck left his side as he stumbled upon an archery challenge…Fengmeng (now Houyi’s apprentice) had challenged Houyi to an archery competition to see who was better. Though none of the competing parties had spotted the runaway, it wasn’t until Fengmeng’s stray arrow struck Taiyi in the back that caused him to draw attention towards his presence. Crying out in pain, Taiyi’s foot slipped on the tile rooftop, causing him to come crashing down to the ground below.

Injured even further, Taiyi knew he was doomed to be sent back to his prison but this time with more restraints…Yet, it seemed like the Gods took pity on the boy by sending a curious servant child that innocently led Taiyi towards the servant entrance…His escape route!! Stumbling through the doors, he knew he should run but he turned to gently grasp the hands of the child and promised that he’ll thank them properly one day, giving them his jade ring as a deposit on his promise, before disappearing into the woods.

now

Taiyi currently resides in Seoul, South Korea as a baker, having opened his own sweets shop that seemingly is quite popular with the females in the area. His youthful appearance and bright personality is what attracts his many customers, the specialty of the shop being his moon cakes that are of different flavors. His shop is filled with not only Chinese sweets but also fusion sweets from around the world.

The promise he made so many years ago, he still remembers and is still looking for the child’s descendants to repay them for their help and kindness…He owes them his life, for having set him free and saved him from a life of imprisonment.

personality

Taiyi takes after his mother, benevolent and soft spoken…A friendly and open minded boy, he is kind and generous to everyone, no matter if it’s friend or stranger. Calm and patient with everyone, he is often described as a boy with a golden heart, always willing to give pieces of himself away without asking anything in return. He is loving and caring, a gentle soul who tries his best in life. He is very sensitive and emotional who’s seen more often crying than yelling when met at emotional extremes.

However, despite his warm outlook in life, when night fall comes and the moon is clear in the sky, he is often spotted with a lonely look in his eyes. A pained and longing expression as he looks towards the moon, yet when asked, he refuses to speak as to why he looked so upset. Taiyi hates to burden other people with his problems so he locks it away in his heart. He does suffer bouts of depression where he feels completely incapable of doing anything and confines himself to his bed.

#{ muses }

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