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gojoscalico · 6 months

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Turn Back Time || t h r e e

Summary: You were never sure when it started to fall apart but it did. 10 Years later and now you're facing him again. Will it reignite the feelings you both once had for one another? Or will you both end up walking away from each other once again?

Word Count: 1990

A/N: WARNING!! This chapter does mention graphic violence and death of an animal.

Tags: @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn

<;- Previous Next ->

“Y/N!” Afraid that you would burst into tears in front of not just Shoko but in front of the students who suddenly have turned their attention to the both of you, you bit your tongue. You winced in pain. The taste of blood triggers your memories of living as a corpse in your family’s basement. It was something you had always done when your mother would strike you until you were unable to stand. It became a hard habit to break. You remembered whimpering in pain. And if you had cried she would only pounce at you some more. The sudden twinge of pain from biting your tongue calms your nerves, pivoting suddenly and turning towards Shoko with a smile. The best smile you can conjure up. It was something you had been good at. Taught at a young age how to smile for the public even with a broken rib. To hide how you felt to survive. But eventually it was also something the trio was able to look past. Shoko looked at you with a pained look on her face. “Y/N…Toru he–”

“I’m fine! Shoko I just forgot that I had to grab something from my lug–” She interrupted you with a sudden hug. Suddenly you were sixteen again and here you were struggling to survive…to breathe freely in a world that wasn't the cold dark basement you had grown familiar with. And here again a decade later was Shoko with her healing touch. You had thought that maybe moving away had helped you fight the demons inside your head but in her arms you knew that you had just silenced them for a moment and learned to live alongside them in the shadows. You had never really faced them. You dug your head deeper into her arms and the tears just flowed. “Shoko…I wish I could tell him…I wish I could just tell him everything but being a Gojo is everything to him.” She petted your hair as she ran her hand down your back,” Shh…I know…I know… everything…” You stopped crying, lifting your head up you felt a sense of confusion, “What?”

“When the clan called on you I was there…I heard what they said. I thought that you were going to tell us. I thought that you were gonna ask Sugu and I for help…I’m sorry that we made you feel like we weren’t safe enough to talk to when they forced you to make a choice.” You shook your head. You never thought that even once this whole decade. You stepped away from her crying into your hands. You were thinking about how much this hurt Shoko. To know the truth about everything but was unable to tell anyone. “No…Shoko…I never…I just didn’t want to…” Shoko took a step towards you to reassure you that she didn’t hate you for your choice. She never once hated you for how you handled a shitty situation chucked to you as a child. Especially not by adults who had promised to protect you. She had only wished she was able to help you more, “Maybe I can help…Tell Toru what it was that–” BOOM.

It was an attack.

Shoko looked around with a confused look on her face. How was she okay? How did she end up outside of the pavilion that just collapsed? Then she remembered hearing you clap before the loud boom. She looked around to find a tree standing where she had been just mere seconds ago. Turning her head to where you had been standing just seconds ago she saw a huge mountain of rubble. She heard ringing in her ear from the loud noise, which left her a little disoriented . “Y/N!!” Shoko yelled at the top of her lungs, panic was distinct in her voice. In desperation she called out to Satoru and Suguru. “PLEASE ANYONE! I can’t find her!” Shoko felt the tears in her eyes. Please. She begged that you were okay. Please. She fell to the ground as she noticed your shoe right outside the mountain of rubble. She picked up the shoe to realize that it had been wet. Staring at the vivid cherry colored liquid on her hand. She panicked as she looked around for any sign of you when she saw the blood seeping through the debris. She yelled for Satoru and Suguru in desperation one more time before she started to dig through the wreck. Her fingers were bleeding after cutting herself from the sharp edges of the fallen debris. “Shoko…what are you?” She turned around to find Satoru standing over her. Suguru appeared right behind him, his eyes widening as he noticed the blood. “Y/N…she’s under here.” Shoko stated as she stared at the rubble. Satoru’s eyes widened as he took a step forward, “No…No…” Using his curse technique he lifted the rubble so easily. There he finds your body miraculously not crushed by the wrecked parts of the pavilion. Still there was blood staining your clothes. You were hurt. You gave him a weak smile. “T-Toru…I–” You coughed up some blood. Your body was at its limit. “I’ve got you princess…I always got you…” After hearing those words you released your technique. Unsure if it was muscle memory but your body knew that if you heard those words you were gonna be okay. You took one last breath in before closing your eyes.

“Y/N! You’re too slow!” Heavily breathing you lunged at Satoru with a spear as he dodged it…again. You groaned, “Just once I want to be able to hit you just once.” Satoru laughed, “Oh come on princess, then it’s not sparring, I just become target practice.” You scoffed, “Doesn’t sound too bad especially if you keep calling me princess. You know I don’t like that nickname.” Satoru laughed at you mockingly as he kept avoiding your attacks. He watched as your cheeks just got redder as you continued. He was worried that you were going to pass out from the heat. “Okay let’s take a rest before you hurt yourself.” You groaned again as you took off the uniform jacket and fanned yourself with your sweat-soaked t-shirt. “Fine.” Satoru watched as beads of sweat dripped down from your face to your chest. The sweat soaked t-shirt practically transparent, he swiftly threw his jacket over you as he heard footsteps from behind. “Hey!”

“Shut up!” You then suddenly hear Suguru and Shoko laughing down the hall. “No and then he…woah are you two okay?” You tilted your head confused, “What do you mean?” Suguru placed an ice cold sports drink on your cheeks, flinching letting out a little moan of pain as the cold drink touched your warm cheeks. “Ow…” Satoru watched Suguru laugh as he handed you the sports drink. He felt a tinge of jealousy as your cheeks turned even more red. “Yeah exactly, you look like you're dying of heat exhaustion. And why are you still wearing the uniform jacket?” You glanced at Satoru who was now looking down at the drink that Shoko had brought. “It helps with conditioning my body for extreme temperatures.” Shoko laughed at your remark, “All that training would be useless if you die Y/N. You have to take care of your body more.” You pouted as you ran towards Shoko hugging her, “I mean it’s not even my jacket…” You then glared at Satoru’s direction, “Someone just suddenly threw his jacket at me. When I was trying to cool down.”

“Well I mean her…sh-shirt is...” You tilted your head unsure of why the arrogant Satoru was suddenly flustered. Then you looked down at your sweat soaked t-shirt and you noticed that your bra was seen through it. You felt the heat of your cheeks turning red in an instant as you covered your chest, “P-Perv! Toru you’re a pervert!.”

“Huh? ME? You’re the one who just just took off their jacket in front of me. A man.” You laughed, “A man? You? Please Toru. I won’t see you as a man for as long as I live.” Pissed off, Satoru laughed, “And I will never see you as a woman, just a little girl who can barely land a punch.” With that you scurried away huffing with anger. You weren’t sure what it was about Satoru but whatever he did he pissed you off. It was his arrogance. His arrogance was based on nothing but the fact that he was a part of the Gojo clan and that he was born with those eyes.

Satoru watched you hurry away. He chuckled because no matter how pissed off he was at you the way you moved was so cute. You were like an angry rabbit. He knew that no matter how pissed off you always get you would still bless him with that pure and innocent smile. The smile that made his heart skip a beat. “You know Satoru, if you like her you shouldn’t be so mean to her it’s not like we are still in grade school.” Satoru sighed at Suguru’s comment. “Go apologize and tell her you love her.” Satoru threw a punch at Suguru who blocked it, “Tsk. Always acting like you know everything. Shut up.”

With Suguru's advice Satoru followed you so he can apologize. He knew how hard you were working but he wanted you to catch up soon so that you could start to fight alongside him. “Hey Y/N…” Satoru stopped in his tracks as he watched you sitting on the floor looking at an injured squirrel. Typical. He figured you were going to pick it up and cry about how you wanted to take care of it. Shocked as he watched you pick it up and break its neck instantly killing it. He watched your dull expression as you held the lifeless squirrel in your hand. He flinched. It wasn’t something he expected you to do. “Hey, What are you doing?” He asked as he took the squirrel’s dead body away from you. He caught a glimpse of your eyes. It was as if you were a different person. They were hollow and dark; it was the eyes of someone who knew what they had done and meant it. Satoru pried the squirrel's body from your hands and placed it by the tree where it had probably fallen from.“Y/N! Why did you do that?” He shook you as you glared up at him. “Why? The squirrel was in pain Toru…it was gonna die anyway.” Satoru looked at her in shock. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew. But he knew for the first time he was seeing you for who you were. Cold. “You didn’t have to kill it…we could’ve nursed it back to health.” You laughed almost mockingly, “How do you know it would’ve lived? What if it suffered even more if we had let it live?” He looked at your eyes. He knew you weren’t talking about the squirrel anymore. “Weak things die…it’s how the world works Toru.”

He looked at you with a distressed look in his eyes. In this moment, he wanted you to forget the pain you were forced to bear before coming to Jujutsu. For the first time ever since he had met you he reached out his arms. He placed his hands lightly on the back of your head as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “I’ve got you princess…I always got you…” It was as if the anxiety that blanketed over you since the day you were rescued was lifted, you felt a sudden relief. You cried as you dug your head deeper into Satoru’s arms. “Toru…I…” He looked at you, placing a hand on your chin as he lifted it, bending down a little until his lips touched yours. He knew that whoever you become he will always love you. And he will always follow you.

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that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 1 month

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Part 2 of the Merlin saves (tries to kill) Arthur fic

(I suck at naming stuff and I'm not putting more effort into the title than the actual fic.)

(Part 1) (Part 3)

—

When Merlin woke, fear coursed through him. Arthur, Gwen and Gaius were sat around him and he was pushed too far back into his own mind. He felt himself lunge at Arthur, hands aiming for his neck, all reservations about subtlety gone.

“Kill Arthur Pendragon!” Fomorroh screeched. “Kill!”

Merlin grasped at reality, fighting desperately again but loosing the battle. Something hit the back of his head and he collapsed again.

———

When Merlin awoke again, it was to only Gwen and Gaius, a smoke canister under his nose that made wakefulness rush through him alongside relief. The distant mantra of ‘Kill Arthur Pendragon’ still rang through his head but he was fully in control of himself.

“What is that? Arthur's socks?” He grinned, looking at Gwen smile in relief.

She stood and pulled the door open, Arthur was just outside looking anxious with a furrowed brow and red rimmed eyes.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, the king looked up.

“Merlin.” He whispered, standing and taking a cautious step closer. He looked to Gaius, “is he..?”

“Not permanently. It’s dormant for now, but that’s will only last a day.” Gaius said. He shivered at the thought of being dragged back under its control.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry,” he pushed himself into a sitting position on the workbench, cleared to act as a table while he was being treated.

“What happened?”

Gaius stepped forward and set a bowl of his favourite berries on the table. Merlin slid into the chair and frowned, trying to remember everything.

“The mercenaries, they were hired by someone I know. I can’t remember what his voice sounded like, but I remember knowing him.” He started, “I had my eyes closed so they’d think I was unconscious, the mercenaries were calling the man who hired them “my lord” too.”

Arthur sat down, “The traitor, do you think you’d recognise the voice?”

“Traitor?” Merlin asked, surprised Arthur was willing to think of such a thing.

“We were talking about it before you attacked me, do you not…”

He pinched his lips into a line and shook his head, “I remember fighting for control and using your voice to remind myself that we’re friends, that I’d never want to harm you, but I don’t remember what you were saying. Then… Fomorroh got way too excited about something, like the poison and the crossbow but I could sabotage it with that. It kept screaming in my head but I don’t know what happened next, the next thing I knew everything went dark.” He couldn’t figure out what happened after that.

“You broke free of the enchantment.” Gwen informed him. “Your eyes were gold, then you were shaking and you told us Morgana was controlling your mind with a Fomorroh and then said we should knock you out.”

“Gold?”

“Don’t think on it too much for now.” Arthur’s said coolly, “what happened after the mercenaries?”

Merlin nodded hesitantly, “I passed out for real, then when Morgana woke me up I was hanging from the ceiling by my wrists. She had a sort of… hovel? Like what Dragoon lived in but in the woods. Then she healed me, and knocked me out again. The next time I woke up, she conjured the snake and put it in my neck. Everything disappeared, like I was underwater but with the Fomorroh yelling that I had to-“ he looked down, glancing at Arthur and back to the half empty bowl of fruit on the table.

“To kill me.” Arthur filled in.

Merlin nodded.

“Do you remember anything else?”

He hesitated, thinking about what he could pull from the memories that didn’t feel like his own, “There’s a few things but none of them make any sense.“

Merlin shook his head, brow furrowed in anxious concentration as he tried to force the memories to surface without disturbing Fomorroh.

Arthur sighed, relaxing slightly and dropping his hands onto Merlin’s shoulders, startling him out of his thoughts by kneeling down to meet Merlin’s eyes, “You’re in no trouble, Merlin. You saved my life today, for that I’m in your debt.”

“Does that mean I finally get a day off?”he quipped without thinking.

Arthur huffed, “you can have a free afternoon after all this is sorted out, but we just want to know how to fix whatever Morgana did to you so.”

Merlin swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat. He’d seen Arthur’s charm turned on nobles and members of the court, even Gwen at one point before she and Lancelot married, but seeing it aimed at him was too much. He had no idea how to handle such a thing.

“Take a breath, and just… say whatever comes back to you.” He said, giving Merlin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’re okay.”

Merlin took a breath, as instructed, and thought back to the time he’d been fighting against the snake.

“It would get excited whenever it thought up some plan.” He said, realising he’d said something similar before. “I couldn’t see much of what was going on, I could hear a few words when I got closer with fighting back into control but never anything important. Except for Morgana. I remember… when the knights found me, I didn’t understand why they sounded different than Morgana did. I could hear everything she said even with the snake.”

“You don’t remember what happened when we found you?” Arthur asked with a furrowed brow. The questions helped.

Merlin frowned and tried to focus. “Gwaine called me bog man. He was there, wasn’t he?” He hated how small and uncertain he sounded.

“It was me and Gwaine. Leon and the others had just got back from searching.” Arthur told him.

“You were there?” He asked, knowing Arthur wouldn’t lie but the memories all seemed just out of reach. “Fomorroh kept taunting me, telling me that you’d die believing you’d been betrayed. I managed to get a second of control then…” he frowned for a moment, trying to remember that moment it came back to him. The realisation ached, knowing what he’d missed.

“You hugged me,” he murmured.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I was happy to see you alive.”

“I missed it,” Merlin pouted. “The first time you hug me and I can’t even remember it, I had a second when you were pulling away but then it took over again. It was more careful after that, keeping me away from control.”

Arthur frowned at him, still knelt on the floor. Merlin almost forgot that Gwen and Gaius were there too, evidently it had slipped the kings mind too because he pulled Merlin forward and wrapped his arms around him. Merlin instantly melted under the warmth and safety of it.

His arms came up and held onto Arthur’s shoulders, fingers curling into his tunic and holding on like letting go would kill him.

“You actually hugged me back this time.” Arthur huffed in a whisper, breath landing on Merlin’s ear and their two heartbeats beating against each other’s chests.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur,” Merlin told him, tears brimming in his eyes and voice thick.

Arthur’s grip on him tightened. “You did nothing wrong. You saved my life, and did all you could.”

Merlin didn’t respond, only buried his face into Arthur’s neck, dampening his tunic with the tears that hadn’t fallen and breathing in the warmth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice what was going on.” Arthur whispered.

Merlin shook his head, not knowing the words to say. Arthur apologising never even crossed his mind, he’d never thought about Arthur having something to apologise for.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for.” Merlin whispered, teary eyed and trembling. Arthur’s hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles into his shoulders and holding him close like just staying there would keep Morgana’s terror away.

‘Dear Gods, please let me keep him.’ Merlin prays desperately to any forces or divine powers that still listen to him.

His grip loosens, his arms tighten around Arthur’s shoulders, palms pressing flat against his shoulder blades. Merlin knows, given any chance, he’d hold on forever and he would never let Arthur go.

But then Arthur pulls away and Merlin has to suppress a pained whimper at the loss. Arthur pushes himself up and sits on the bench beside Merlin, they’re pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. Arthur doesn’t move away and neither does Merlin, Gwen and Gaius are kind enough not to mention it.

———

Thoughts? There's maybe one or two more parts to come but honestly motivation is a struggle at the moment so please be patient

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #guinevere #gaius merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #fix it fic #merlin fanfic #fanfic #angst and hurt/comfort #a servant of two masters #i’m bad at tagging

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indibutterfly · 1 month

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Awww, the Pomni short fic made my heart swell! And that's a good thing! Well done, dear author! If you're up to another fic prompt, I have one in mind.

Caine tries to genuinely conjure up an exit as per Pomni's request that will lead to an outside world. But ultimately fails. So to help, Pomni tries to explain what the outside world is like, or as much as she can remember anyway. Caine just ends up creating a pocket dimension. Looks like outside/exit, with nature stuff on it, but not really. Pomni doesn't want to leave the place he just created though. It creates a problem because it's unstable. And so she's sent back at the circus, sadder as ever. Might even abstract.

I wonder how will you write this one ;)✨ I have faith that you can do it! Thanks again though!

So sorry this took so long! I am glad you like the last story I made! I hope you like this one!

Warning: This is really angsty

“Boss…..you’ve been at this for days….maybe give it a rest?”

“I CANT BUBBLE!! She won’t love me anymore if I don’t do this!” Bubble gave a distraught look towards his master. He has been so different ever since…..that day…..no he wouldn’t think about that right now. Maybe if he talked some sense into the stripes, then his boss would go back to normal! Bubble immediately teleported to the location of stripes. He saw her in the same corner she has been in since…..that day………not thinking about that! Bubble floated over to Pomni, with a giant smile.

“Heya stripes! Doing any better?” Silence.

“Uh stripes? Did ya hear me?”

Silence.

“Stripes, want me to get the boss?”

Silence. Bubble sighed,

“Pomni, the boss is worried about you…could you please feel better so everything can go back to normal?”

She finally responded. However, her response wasn’t coherent. All that could be heard was the sound of her muttering words…….it was honestly……a depressing sight to behold. Bubble teleported back to his boss. However when he arrived, it definitely was not what he was expecting.

“I’ve had done it……I’VE HAD DONE IT!!! My love will no longer have to suffer anymore!!! She is going to have everything she wanted!!” Caine snapped his fingers and created a mirror before him.

“My my my I look quite a mess don’t I? Well we can’t have that!” Another snap and he was good to go. He almost looked normal. Well all except for his tie being completely undone, but that had nothing at all to do with his mental state right? Right?! Caine spared it no mind, or was it pay no thought? Well whatever it was, the only thing he cared about was about to no longer feel depressed! That was all that mattered. He teleported over to his lover’s room.

“Oh Dearest~ I have the most wonderful of news!” Caine expected no response from Pomni. After all she wasn’t in her right mind! He was going to fix that!

“Pomni! I made you a special room in the circus! It’s modeled almost completely like the real world! It’s small, but I did it!” Real world……now those words caught the Jester’s attention.

“H-Home?” She said with a weak and broken voice. The ring master floated towards the love of his digital life. He cupped her face as though she were a porcelain doll.

“Yes my dear, your home.” Though she kept the same expression and broken voice, she seemed to perk up just a little bit.

“Take…me…home…” He did not waste any time. Caine took her by the hand and teleported the two in front of an Exit door.

“I know how fond you are of these types of doors, so I put your reality behind it! Go ahead my love! Open the door!” She lifted her hand and opened the exit door. Her eyes widened in shock and amazement. He did it……HE ACTUALLY DID IT!

“Do you….perhaps like it my love?” The jester ran up to the ringmaster and squeezed him ever so tightly.

“It’s perfect! Just like my home!” It was a small town with different shops that you could enter. It looked so realistic. It even had NPCs look like humans! Finally, true happiness could be achieved here for his love. Caine watched in pure enjoyment as Pomni ran around the entire area with wonder and excitement filling her. It had been so long since he saw her look anything other than scared……he could easily get used to this. Sure it took pretty much everything he had in his code to keep it together for her, but that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. Only her happiness. That’s all that was relevant mattered now. That’s all that could ever matter. For two weeks, Pomni hardly ever left the room. Caine couldn’t fault her though. She finally had everything she could ever want…until she got that look again. He had noticed it around the time of his daily visit to her.

“Oh my love! What would you like to do today?” She looked up at him with an almost melancholy expression.

“It’s getting dull Caine.”

“Dull? My dear whatever could you mean?” She took a deep breath and tried her very best to explain.

“I guess it just got kinda mundane. It’s really hard to have fun here, when everyday it’s the same shops, stores, etc. I guess I just want more.”

“Then more you shall have my dear! Give me only an hour, alright?” She nodded and sat on one of the benches that were scattered throughout the “real-like” room. When Caine returned, he looked rougher than usual. Not only was his tie undone still, but now his coat was completely untucked.

“There you are my dear! More for you to enjoy!” With a snap of his fingers, the room grew twice in size. There were now office buildings and homes, which created the illusion of living in the real world. Her face once more gained that amazed look as she rushed over to the new areas that surrounded the tiny business. This would be the start of a cruel cycle. Pomni would get bored of the new room. Caine would destroy himself making something new for her. She was happy. Until she wasn’t. Caine wasn’t bothered. Pomni loved him. He knew that very well. She was simply…..missing home was all. He looked in the mirror at his new appearance. His abilities were completely used, except for the little bit to keep the circus afloat. The ringmaster’s attire was torn and tattered. His hat was smushed flat, his coat was completely unbuttoned and torn. He did not look like the ringmaster of the digital circus.

“Boss……you don’t look so good.” Caine gave a sigh.

“What I look like doesn’t matter…..she is…..happy. I love her enough to give her everything she wants.” Bubble floated up to his boss. Even though he was an ai of very little brain, Bubble could tell this was unhealthy. He couldn’t stand to just sit and watch his best friend hurt himself like this. He teleported to the room where Pomni now resided.

“Stripes!” Pomni turned around and faced Bubble.

“Hi Bubble! Are you okay?”

“Stripes, the Boss doesn’t look so good. Please ask him to take away this world.”

Pomni shuddered to even entertain that thought.

“Caine made this place to show how much he cares for me. Wouldn’t it hurt him more if I asked for him to take everything back?” Bubble gave a load groan.

“Follow me, stripes.” Pomni did as Bubble asked. As soon as she walked outside her new room, the Jester saw how broken the circus looked. Pieces were falling, the stage curtains were ripped, doors were off their hinges. Caine would never let this slide! Where was he?!

“Why hasn’t Caine done anything about this? He loves this circus more than anything.”

“Not more than you, Pomni.” No……no……it wasn’t her fault that this was happening…….was it? She felt something deep within her break. Black squares began to surround and began to slowly engulf her. Bubble did not know what to do. Caine ran with everything he had in him. He felt the pain she was feeling and he knew what would happen next.

“POMNI!” He cried out in desperation. Though she had not yet fully transformed, her mental state had already left her. Caine grabbed her face and pulled her close.

“Pomni! My love! Please look at me!” The darkness continued to engulf her.

“What do you need?! I can give you anything, you want! Just say the word, my dear!” He tried snapping a few things into existence……but nothing happened. Pomni saw that.

“I don’t need anything!” She tried to cry out to the love of her life. However that’s not what came out of her mouth.

“Need everything.” That is what Caine heard.

“I can give you that! Just please…….” He began to break down in tears.

“Please, Pomni….don’t leave me!” Seeing her lover broken, she broke her even more. If she had never shown him true love, then he wouldn’t be like this. If she never told him how she felt about the real world, then he wouldn’t have hurt himself giving her what she wanted. She needed Caine. Seeing him break like that……hurt more than anything. With that she fully lost her old form.

“POMNI!” The jester known as Pomni…..was now no more. A feeling Caine had never known before.

“POMNI!! I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU!! I GAVE EVERYTHING FOR YOU!! WAS IT NOT GOOD ENOUGH?!” He screamed at the creature.

“Was….was I not good enough?”

Broken sobs, overcame the circus.

Fin~

I kinda wanna make a part two……lemme know if yall want that.

(I am still doing ship one-shots. Send me an ask or a comment and I will do it. As long as it follows the guidelines ofc.)

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thescarletwitchsapprentice · 2 years

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Imagine: The Scarlet Witch invades your city in search of her children, but you react differently to her. (Yandere!Wanda Maximoff/Yandere!Scarlet Witch x autistic!fem!reader)

Summary: Everyone's made fun of you. Bullied you. Abused you. You don't really think like others. It's just how your brain was wired. By this point, you didn't think much good could come from it.

But that may just capture the heart of a powerful witch.

(CW: Mention of bullying/isolation, hypnosis)

Author’s Note: My laptop is really starting to break down, just like me mentally and emotionally.

A loud set of screams interrupts your quiet time in your first-floor apartment, startling you.

Looking outside your window, you see people running away from something, including some of those who’ve bullied you for your autism. (which is a bit satisfying to see, you won’t lie)

“What’s going on?” you wonder aloud.

That’s what you see them, following the scared crowd; it’s a figure decked out in a dark red outfit.

“That’s what everyone’s afraid of?” You’re confused as fuck, so you decide to go outside to check out the scene. As you get closer, you can make out the figure more clearly; a woman with long hair that seems to be made of fire. Her hands are glowing with a scarlet aura. It’s....actually a bit relaxing to look at and you find yourself entranced by its smooth movements; it’s like it’s performing a ballet. Slowly you find yourself getting closer, staying fixated on the aura.

“Wow....” you gasp as you approach her hand.

“What are you doing?”

A voice nearby snaps you from your trance. You look up to see the woman with a hardened expression.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I was just fixated on that glow in your hand. It’s beautiful, and honestly kinda calming as well.”

The hardened expression softens a bit.

“....You’re not running from me,” she notes.

“Why would I be?” you ask. “You don’t scare me.”

Her expression turns back to stone and her head tilts.

“Is that a challenge?” An Eastern European accent appears in her voice.

“No,” you say matter-of-factly. “I just don’t feel afraid of you. You’re not causing any trouble, you’re just....here existing.”

The tilt retracts and her anger turns into a mixture of confusion and fascination.

“You’re a very odd girl,” she notes.

You shrug.

“Comes with the ‘tisms.”

“The what?”

“Oh, I’m autistic. My mind is.....well, it’s different from other people’s brains.”

“I see....”

“Yep,” you nod. “Kinda got bullied and isolated for it. A lot. Still do. I....basically have no friends.”

“Why would they bully you?”

You shrug.

“I guess they’re afraid of what they don’t understand, you know?”

At that moment, her expression softens almost completely.

“Yes.....” she says quietly. “I do know....”

In her mind, something switches. Here you are, a fellow misunderstood soul, with not even a single companion. Someone who’s not afraid of her, someone who didn’t immediately run when you saw her, but rather....you were fascinated by her. She can’t remember the last time she’s met someone who didn’t fear her or treat her like a criminal.

“You’re really pretty too, you know.” Your compliment both jolts her from her thoughts and solidifies her decision. There’s no way she’s leaving you here. Her heart is pounding furiously and she comes up with an idea.

“Would you like to see some more of my aura?” she asks.

You nod eagerly.

“Please? Those screams I heard earlier kinda stressed me out.”

She gives a smile and moves her hands to conjure more in front of your face. Her hand movements begin to fascinate you as well.

“Holy shit, that’s beautiful,” you whisper, your eyes widening in awe. “It’s like your fingers are dancing.”

You begin to find yourself hyperfixating on the magic and on her hands, just as she hoped you would. Soft whispers invade your mind, but you’re unable to make out what they’re saying, nor do you really care about what they’re saying. Slowly your eyes gloss over as the hands and magic play over and over again in your mind.

You almost fall down on the road, but the Scarlet Witch catches you and sweeps you up bridal style, holding you close and protectively.

“Sweet, sweet girl....my sweet, sweet girl,” she whispers as she flies away with you.

“You’ll never be hurt or unloved ever again....”

#yandere wanda maximoff x fem!reader #yandere wanda maximoff x autistic reader #autistic!reader #autistic reader #actually autistic #yandere wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff #yandere #marvel #Avengers #yandere avengers #yandere marvel

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babylovepresley · 1 year

Text

thinkin’ about you — elvis presley x reader

summary: you are elvis presley’s former lover… at least you think you are. the year is 1960, and he is finally returning home from the service… but you haven’t heard from him since the day he left memphis and got on that plane nearly two years ago. what is left of you both?

word count: 2k

content warnings: 18+ sexuality mentioned, ANGST, possibly an unhealthy relationship, references to religion and god

read & listen along: https://open.spotify.com/track/1fDFHXcykq4iw8Gg7s5hG9?si=c2I7yoRJQMOSZEIrxLHCsg

writer’s note: hiya lovebugs! this is just a little something i conjured up when i was supposed to be doing homework (hehe), and i thought perhaps you’d all like to suffer with me. it’s not my best work, as i have had quite an overwhelming day and this is the best i could produce. this is my first fic posted, and i truly hope you all enjoy! remember requests are always open, and i am forever sending you all plenty of love and light!

dedicated to: my darling friends that promote my obsession with writing angst, though it hurts them in the end <3 (@eliseinmemphis my sincerest apologies lover)

It’s a cold day in March when he comes home; his hair wispy and long, touching the tip of his forehead beneath the large issued cap. When he first went away, the cap seemed to swallow his sleepy head and make him seem like the boy I first met all those years ago— when life was kind and he smiled with his tongue between his teeth. A patron moves to turn the television up, standing on the counter and nearly knocking over a young man’s grits that sat untouched on his plate. The soldier huffs and puffs as the camera follows him; his lean figure cutting through the tv and leaving an ache in me heart. Did the scars from our childhood playing wear off? Did the inside of his left pinky still glow red and raw from the movement of his ring? Does he still think of me?

He swallows, and my own throat constricts watching him. Life had become so difficult after he left— the beginning of us did not matter, I only wanted to get through to the end. And now we’re here, or rather he is. All I can do is stand and watch in our hometown diner, as he glows for the entire world. My coworker comes up beside me, placing her tray down on the crowded counter and side eyeing me.

“Yes Minny?”

“Sugar, I hate to do this… ‘specially today of all days… but—“ always walking on eggshells, Minny was. In fact, I’ve noticed that every other waitress today has been side-eyeing me with pity; wondering what I must have done to him to be here instead of greeting him with open arms, perpetually on my knees for him. The truth is I never did anything to him… and I guess that’s why he never found it important to write to me.

“You need me to close… don’t you?” I smile. I didn’t have it in me to be cruel right now, though I wanted to scream and cry can’t you see I’m busy lamenting a man I don’t know anymore?

“I’m sorry y/n, it’s just that my daughter wanted to stop by the Graceland gates tonight to.. well.. you know…” she trails off, itching an imaginary scratch behind her neck. It isn’t her fault that her daughter looks at him the same way I did, or still do. It’s been a long time since I’ve laid my eyes on him, and I wonder if they still fill with the warmth and affection I once saw him have for me.

“It’s okay Min, I don’t mind at all! I’ll probably just make a cup of tea for myself and clean the jukebox tonight… have a feeling I finally wanna clear out a certain someone’s records….” I giggle, though I’m laced with a bitter agony in my throat; I never wanted to hear his voice again, but I know one sound falling from his pouty lips would cause me to stare in adoration and declare my god, where have you been?

I turn my head back to the television, because I simply cannot bear not looking at him… not after three years of staring out the window and praying to God that he’d somehow be sitting outside my door, waiting for me all the while. He has changed so much; poised and gifted with the confidence that can only affect a young boy who dreamt of the strength and masculinity he exudes. He left me a scared boy, with heavy shoulders that I ached to massage into a restful stature, and came home a man; broad and unashamed. I simply can’t wrap my head around it as the camera pans to his face, spotted with the cold sting of snowflakes as he nods his head in thanks. It’s ridiculous.. I feel jealous of a force of nature simply because they get to live and die on him; when I have faced far more triumphs and little deaths as a result of his person.

Still, he looks afraid as he shuffles through the crowd of women waiting to grab at him. I feel nauseous just looking at it, and I find myself tugging at my uniform in an attempt to deflect from the obvious want situated in each woman's eyes. Many years ago, I would’ve moved through the sweaty crowd gathered by the gates of that airport, and used my handkerchief to wipe the nervous sweat on his eyebrow; my hands ever-so delicate on his cold cheeks. And he’d look up at me and smile, the apples of his cheeks pressing his eyes into a squint; “you miss me lil?”

But now I stand here, as unknown to the world as the words he said to me the first night he pulled me by bare chest to his and mouthed a sonnet only he could tell. Memphis has changed, he has changed, but I haven’t. Maybe that’s why he didn’t write. Maybe that’s why I’m living in the in between; Elvis’ girl or not? Lover or former flame?

The hours pass by with the creaking stools signaling the end and beginning of each meal, my nails making a dull clack against the cracking counter. Before I knew it, the street lights flickered to life, and my coworkers' cars pulled out of the lot, blowing kisses out their windows in a silly “goodnight!” gesture. The diner is lonely without the murmuring of the town, but I find it to be deeply comforting while I clean. The TV has been turned off, and the jukebox unplugged, leaving me with nothing but my pitiful thoughts and slight hiccups as I cry and clean the corner booth.

In the midst of my cry, for him, for me, for his Mother, and for any semblance of a future I had once dreamt of, I failed to notice the front door being pulled open and the slight ting of the bell. The wind from outside climbed my bare legs as I wiped, shouting out a quick “We’re closed honey, I’m sorry!”. Why look up when I always know who it’ll be— whether it be a neighbor, the town drunk or a church choir member.

“Oh… ‘m.. ‘m sorry” the stranger stumbles out, and I can physically feel the soft tapping of his loafers on the sticky linoleum floor. I’d know that voice in death, when the grim reaper kisses me goodnight, I’d be begging him “please.. let me hear his breath one last time”.

With all of my strength I turn to him, staring down my old hero. My spray bottle has long been abandoned, spilling on the floor beneath me and wetting the tips of my white shoe. I couldn’t care less. Nothing could’ve stopped me from following his voice— nothing could have prepared my heart for the sight of him in front of me. I feel the ache of my brows pulling down on my face, and the cold air drifts through my parted lips to remind me that this is real… he’s here. After all this time, he’s here. I’m silent as I watch him distribute his weight; left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

“Ya see me on TV today lil?” His thick voice cuts through the air; still gravelly from the cold morning air he sucked in earlier that day. A part of me wanted to coddle him; coo “oh poor baby” for the pain in his throat. But the other part of me wanted to laugh in his face at the incredulous question. In the end, that’s just what I did.

“Did I- Did I see you on TV Elvis?” I barely manage to get out, as my throat begins to constrict with sobs. Bastard. At least we both are in pain from the words we can’t say, I think to myself.

“W-well I noticed the TV ain’t on.. so I thought I’d ask…”

“You thought you’d ask me if the TV was off because you wanted me to watch you come home today?”

“Baby I know it ain’t been that long,” he chuckles, his hands digging deep into the pocket of his black slacks. I once sewed a hole he tore in those slacks, and I remember the way he kissed my cheek in thanks— I still feel the burn of his lips. “know my girl hasn’t gone all dumb on me”.

My girl. As if he had any right to call me that anymore. My anger bubbles to the surface, as the chemicals I dropped sting my nose. We stand polar opposites of one another. On one end of the diner, we have a lowly waitress who dreamt of a family and a small life but now spends her days covered in bacon grease for the creepy men in town to ogle at. On the other end, with hair still blown back from the influx of winter wind coming through the corner window, stands a god amongst men. He has the world in his hands, and it dawns on me that he could have any family or anyone’s life that he could ever want— small or large it wouldn’t matter, it’s all small to his strong flesh.

Unchanged in my agonizing swirl, I threaten, though no matter how hard I try I could never be crossed with him in tone, “You don’t get to call me that no more Elvis”.

He shuffles uncomfortably, and his lips curl inward with a tremble. He has taken an interest in the floor, and I wonder if he remembers the time he stayed here until 4 am with me scrubbing them down. He looks at the tiles just as intently as he did then, though now it seems like he feels just as dirty as them.

“I ain’t… I m-meant to write you y/n honest—“

“Oh you MEANT to write me, huh?”

“Yes! Yes I-I-I did I just got caught up ‘s all…”

“Caught up?”

‘Yes Lil! Caught up!” he extends his arms out to his sides; desperate for a positive response.

I can’t hold back the building sobs anymore, it hurts too much— makes me want to reach my arms out to him like a child and cry for help. I’ve bared my soul to him in far too many ways, and he deserves to see the mess he’s made of me.

“For two years E?” the tears sting my cheeks, as I hiccup in a breath.

For a moment, I see him take a step toward me. Ever the holder, Elvis always showed love through his touch. There would be nights I’d wake up sobbing and afraid at the idea of never getting to feel the velvety touch of his fingertips in or against me ever again. Those nights still haunt me, and the idea of him touching me is almost too much. No man has touched me since him, and I’ll never want anyone else to ever again. I move from his reach, and walk beside him with a wipe of my nose as he panics.

“B-Baby I tried! T- The Colonel”

“The colonel,” I stop in my tracks and smile spitefully with a small shake of my head “It’s always the Colonel E, isn’t it?”

“Oh c’mon y/n whas’ that supposed to mean?'' he follows behind me as I stomp past him and behind the counter, desperately grabbing at anything to appear unaffected; but he knows me. Elvis knows me more intimately than I know myself, and I’ve come to resent him for it. I can’t bear his cluelessness, and I can’t live with all of this hurt inside of me for any longer.

“ELVIS! He has taken EVERYTHING FROM YOU. Money, your Mother, your life, me! You’ll just let him take and take and take,” I throw the bulk of napkins across the counter and into his chest in anger, though I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt him. Strange how he seemed fine all the while I was dying for a single word from him. “until there’s nothing left of you— of us!”

I move around the counter, and it feels as if I don’t keep moving I’ll collapse in a heap of tears. My finger jabs into his chest, and he flinches with the intrusion. For the first time tonight, I see tears forming in his eyes, yet his stained cheeks indicate they have been falling for a long time as he struggles to inhale from his own pitiful, silent sobs.

“One word from you Elvis, that’s all I wanted.” I sob, barely coherent as I lay my hands on his chest. He grabs them, and the shift in my stomach nearly makes me lurch in pain. I feel him now, so real and warm and so mine. I could never forget his touch, and now that I have it again I doubt I’ll be able to breathe without it. We cry quietly for a moment, holding one another as if we were foreign to each other; like he hasn’t consumed by body and soul whole and left it to rot in his chest.

It’s silent save for his uneven breathing and the gentle scuff of my feet; unable to stay still as my body betrays itself. I pull away, and he mumbles a “no, no honey stay” as I wipe my eyes and regain my strength. He paws at my apron, trying to pluck me closer before I scold him for his mistakes.

“Elvis, please just go. I-I’ve lived without you, I’ve cried each time I saw your house, or-or heard your records. I’ve grieved you before you were even gone, and I know I can do it again. So please baby, please just go” I whimper out, smoothing down my skirt and pinching my thighs beneath the frilly mess. I can’t look at him, though my eyes thirsted for the pinch of his brow for so long.

There are very few women who can say Elvis Presley laid himself in front of her and wept. I’ve seen him cry before, in fear and anger, and each time I have taken him into my arms and quelled him into relief. But nothing could prepare me for the sight laid out before me.

My man, a god, falls to his knees in front of me and cries with outstretched palms, “Do ya think I’ve forgotten ‘bout you?”

His eyes appear to burn as they flutter closed with a gulp, his large hands gripping onto the bottom of my skirt, “Oh God baby, ‘ve messed up somethin’ awful, I know.” he cries out, wiping his nose with his sleeve like a boy. A chuckle builds in my chest at the antic, as it reminds me of the boy I’ve cried for all along. He licks his lips, panicking at the thought of rejection. “ ‘ve always tried to be so good for ya and look what I’ve done now… look what your satnin’s done now…” He chokes out, ever the fallen angel.

His arms wrap around me, and I stumble forward with the force of his pull. It’s no use in fighting, I think to myself, I can never purge myself from the feeling he gives me. I don’t think I’ll ever want to— I can never shed the feel of him. The feel of Elvis; an irrevocable heartbreak. My upper body falls on top of him, my breasts pressed against his strong shoulder as my hands slide flat down his back; the wool of his jacket slightly burning my wrists. I feel his cries against my hips, as his arms lock around the backs of my legs; hands clasped in fear that I’ll soon pull away. His shoulders shake as I lean over him, and chills run down my flesh as his thumbs soothe the backs of my thighs.

Against my skirt he wails, “Kiss me. Please God, kiss my sins away. ‘ve done so bad by you baby— let me know I ain’t the devil incarnate..” his nails dig into the thickness of my thighs in desperation.

Who am I to deny him?

#elvis in my eyes <3 #elvis presley #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis headcanons #elvis fanfiction #austin elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley angst #elvis x reader angst #elvis fanfic

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wrenreid · 2 years

Text

Off Limits

content warning: none i can think of

Part Four

I’ve been watching Hotch’s son for five days now. I got a call from him this morning apologizing for leaving me with Jack for so long.

“I really don’t mind, Hotch,” I told him.

It’s true. I’ve always liked kids; well, at least the sweet ones. And I don’t have any kids of my own. Babysitting is a way to take care of children and be able to give them back eventually. I think it’s a pretty good deal.

Anyway, it’s not like I’m alone. Jade is here 90% of the time; the other 10% she’s with friends. I suppose it’s nice having company other than a four year old. We’ve stayed up in the living room talking almost every night after Jack goes to sleep.

We haven’t talked about much, but it’s been nice just to talk. She doesn’t seem to mind when I go on tangents about anything my brain can conjure up. I like that because as tolerant as my coworkers are, their faces always show when they want me to quit rambling. Jade’s facial expressions don’t grow irritated and bored when I spill out my knowledge. She may not really care, but she doesn’t show that. I appreciate it.

She a lot like her dad in some ways, but I don’t think she notices. She’s stubborn and intelligent. I can also tell by examining her body language and the way she talks that she’s a natural born leader. Maybe that’s why Morgan has always called her little Hotch.

When I first met her, I was 23, and she was 16. Her dark hair reminded me of Hotch’s, but it was more chocolate while his was more ebony. Her eyes are dark too, but there’s a hint of hazel in them, like Haley had. Her eyes have gotten a little darker now that she’s aged some years.

Some may say it’s strange that I notice these things, but I notice everything. Details stick out to me. I’ve also noticed how she has a wall she’s put up behind her eyes, keeping those looking into them from seeing her feelings. The wall isn’t as strong or thick as her fathers, but it’s still there.

I have one of those too, I’ll admit. If I remember correctly, I began building that wall at 10 years old. 18 years later, I’d like to say it’s pretty sturdy.

Some might think it’s a bad thing to create those barriers between yourself and the outside world. But from my point of view, it’s a safety net. Why would one wear their heart on their sleeve and risk others using that to their advantage when they can hold all the cards themselves?

All this to say, I don’t blame her for the extra support in front of her emotions.

“Hey,” Jade says with a yawn, her steps making soft thud sounds on the hardwood stairs.

“Hi,” I give her a small wave from my spot on the couch. Jack is watching cartoons on the tv while he sits on the floor, his legs crossed in a pretzel.

Jade slept in this morning, and I told Jack to be a little quieter so she could stay asleep.

It’s 11am now when she heads into the kitchen. She comes back a minute later with a bowl of cereal in her hands. She sits down a little bit away from me on the couch, shelving a spoonful of the cheerios into her mouth as soon as she’s situated.

Her hair’s messy, but it’s kind of flattering somehow. Jade’s dressed in a white t shirt too big for her and black shorts that are hardly visible underneath the shirt.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask, just trying to make conversation. Usually, I don’t bother for small talk, but I figure it can’t do any harm.

Jade finished chewing the handful of cereal in her mouth, swallows, then answers. “Pretty well. I appreciate sleeping in for the first time in a while.”

“Not a morning person?”

She shrugs. “Not particularly. You?”

I furrow my eyebrows a little. “I’d rather sleep in than get up early, but I hardly ever get to. I usually go to bed late too. So I guess you could say I’m more of a night person,” I tell her.

“Me too. I just like night better,” Jade says. “It’s quiet and less bright.”

“Research shows those considered ‘night owls’ are more intelligent and creative than those who wake up early.”

“I guess our brains just need more rest after a hard day of being smarter than everyone else,” she says with a grin.

I laugh softly at that. “I suppose so.”

“Would you want to go to the park today?” She asks, and I almost think she’s asking me on a date of some sorts until I glance back at her and see she’s talking to her brother.

“Yes!” Jack exclaims excitedly.

“Okay. If you go put this in the sink for me, I’ll take you and we can play catch,” Jade says, holding out her bowl.

Jack realizes what she’s doing, but agrees to her terms. He rises from his place on the living room rug and makes his way to the living room with her bowl in his hands.

“That was devious,” I say with a slight chuckle.

“It was strategic. I didn’t want to get up off the couch, and he wants something I can give him. It’s good thinking,” Jade says, tapping her fingertips to her head.

I shake my head, but a smile creeps up onto my lips. “I’m glad I didn’t have any older siblings.”

She laughs softly. “Me too.”

Jack comes back, his hands on his hips. “So, when we going to the park?”

“How about one? I need a shower,” Jade tells him.

“One?” Jack whines.

“That’s only about two hours. Five and a half cartoons,” she says.

“Fine,” he sighs with quite a bit of emotion behind it for a four year old.

The desired time for said four year old rolls around, and Jade keeps to her word. They’re both dressed now. Jack in jeans and a light weight jacket and Jade in thin black joggers and a slightly baggy t shirt.

“You don’t have to go with us if you need a break from you know who,” Jade tells me as she reties Jack’s shoelace that he did himself.

“Actually, I’d like to go if that’s okay. It’s a nice day,” I say with a soft smile.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs, grabbing her keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

“Your version of a nice day is quite different from most people’s,” Jade laughs once we’re walking through the park to find a suitable spot.

There’s several people here, some on bikes, some talking on benches, some playing football, some playing with their children. The light grey clouds in the sky are covering up the sun just enough so that it’s not too bright out. It looks like it may rain tonight. The April weather is still somewhat cold, leftover from winter, but it isn’t so chilly that one would need many layers.

I look up at the sky and around us. “The sun isn’t blinding my eyes. Nice day.”

“Valid,” she shrugs. She’s holding hands with Jack, his little legs setting our pace much slower than my usual walk. I don’t mind.

“Right here’s good,” Jade points to an area of the park with green grass and enough space for a kid her brother’s age to play in. There’s a bench just across the concrete path from it.

Jack pulls her onto the grass, his ball in his other hand. “Go far,” he tells her.

She goes about five four away from him.

“Farther than that!”

Jade takes two more steps back. “We’ll start out here, okay?”

“Okay,” he says and throws her his ball.

It’s plastic ball the size of a softball. It’s not hallow, but it’s not too heavy to where it would hurt bad if one got hit with it.

She catches it and underhand- tosses it back. He catches it too. This goes on for a while, and I sit on the bench a small distance away from them. I brought two books to read while we’re here.

Eventually, Jade declares she is quitting the game of catch with her brother. He whines a bit, but she reminds him they’ve been playing for half an hour.

She takes a seat next to be on the bench, Jack sits in front of her on the ground, rolling his ball around.

“Whatcha reading?” Jade asks, looking over my shoulder curiously.

I close the book to show her the cover. She reads the title.

“It’s about a time traveler. Usually I read nonfiction, but the occasional Sci-fi or dark fantasy peeks my interested,” I tell her.

“Dark fantasy,” Jade smirks. “Sounds kinky.”

My face heats up, letting me know I’m definitely blushing which is a little embarrassing.

“N-not like that. Like Lord of the Rings,” I say.

“I know, Spence. I was teasing you,” she says with a little laugh.

“Right,” I give her an awkward laugh in return.

I’m still not exactly used to detecting sarcasm or teasing. I’ve gotten better at realizing when those two devices are being used, but occasionally, they’ll slip past me. Perks of being autistic (sarcasm). I’ve gotten pretty good at detecting mannerisms and reading unsubs, but somehow a joke will still fly over my head.

Jade grins, shaking her head. Her hair brushes my face briefly, and I involuntarily smell the shampoo she just used an hour and a half ago. It smells good. Oats and vanilla I believe.

She twirls her hair for a moment, the brown strands curling around her finger. In the natural lighting, I can see all the different colors in her hair. There’s chocolate brown, caramel, walnut, and even some mixtures of red where the sun shines on it. It’s pretty. It’s pretty and it smells good.

I snap out of my thoughts when Jack hops up from his seat. I’m relieved to have the kid release me from my thoughts. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. Even if it was just her hair, it’s still inappropriate.

—————

Jack pulls me back away from the bench.

“Piggy back ride,” he demands, but it’s kind of cute.

“You’re heavy.”

“Am not,” he says.

I roll my eyes, and bend down so he hand jump on. He does so excitedly, wrapping his arms around my neck.

I walk around with my brother on my back for a little bit until his short attention span is bored with me. Then he forces Spencer to give him a piggy back ride too.

It’s sweet watching the two of them together. Spencer’s good with kids. Better than I am and this one is my own brother.

I love Jack, I really do, but I was 17 when he was born, and it was weird to become a sister at that age. I was excited, of course, but still strange.

I also thought it was weird that my parents were having a baby at that age anyway. It’s not like they were old at all. In fact, Mom was only 35. But when it’s 17 years after your first, it’s a weird gap.

My mom and dad were young when they had me. Mom was 18 a freshman in college, and Dad was 20 and a junior. They’d been dating for three years already, but it’s safe to say I was not planned.

They didn’t let the unplanned baby ruin their plans for college though. Mom became a part time student instead, and both sets of my grandparents helped take care of me whenever needed.

Dad was still able to go to law school when I was three. I’m glad I didn’t ruin their lives completely. But Mom assured me I didn’t ruin it at all. She was honest when she said finding out about me was a minor set back, but she was also honest when she said they loved me no matter what.

Jack and Spencer play around, and I’m convinced to join in.

Eventually, I drive us back home. Jack lays down for a nap at 4, and at 7, I cook dinner instead of Spencer.

Eventually, I get Jack back into bed, but since he took his nap a little later, there was some resistance. Finally, at 11, he goes to bed. I make him promise he won’t tell Dad he went to bed that late, and he says he will if I get him ice cream tomorrow. I will be talking to Dad about why his child is a bargainer.

At midnight, I hear a weird sound from downstairs and go to scope it out.

I laugh softly when I see Spencer popping the popcorn I bought him a couple days ago.

“You weren’t kidding about the late night snack,” I grin, leaning against the kitchen counter.

He turns around, jumping a little. I scared him.

“I never kid about food, Jade,” he says and that makes me laugh a little more.

“Care to share?”

“Hmm,” he thinks for a moment. I scoff. “I suppose.”

“Want to watch a movie?” I ask him, not ready to go to bed.

He looks a little hesitant to say yes. Well, not really hesitant, but somehow nervous? “Yeah. Sounds good.”

five

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @crynroom @scarredelirium @reid1nspiration @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz <3

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notinthislife50 · 11 months

Text

Chapter 23- Pamela

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

As you all sat around the small room trying to work out what was going on, Bobby mentioned his friend you could go see.

When Sam tried to question Dean about hell all he said was he couldn't remember but you had seen the fear in his eyes, it was the same fear that had plagued you for the past four months.

As you all made your way to the cars Dean came behind you “Ready to ride in baby again” he whispered wrapping his arms around you.

“Think I'm gonna ride with Bobby “ you smiled sadly turning away from him.

“Try to keep up“ Bobby grinned.

“What was that?” Bobby asked as you both hit the road.

“What do you mean?” you played dumb turning your head towards the window.

And Bobby left it at that knowing you were not yet ready to talk.

As you all arrived Bobby knocked on the door. It was thrown open and the gorgeous brunette threw her arms around Bobby.

“Bobby so nice to see” She smiled squeezing him and lifting him.

Sam and Dean looked at her impressed.

“So this is the boys “ she eyed them up grinning. “but I thought you said..” then she stopped and looked at you.

She smiled wide and took both your hands “ There she is” and pulled you in for a hug.

“Nice to see you too Pam but I would very much like to breath” you laughed.

Then she turned to Dean and hummed to herself and you saw Dean smirk at her, you felt a pang in your chest but on the outside, you were stone-faced.

“Pamela Barnes best damn psychic in the state” Bobby smiled proudly.

“Dean Winchester out of the fire and back in the frying pan, “ she asked “Makes you a rare individual.”

“If you say so“ Dean stuttered.

“But not as rare..” and when she caught the look on your face she stopped. “Never mind not my business to say.”

“So did you hear anything?” Bobby asked.

“No one seems to know who broke your boy out or why,” Pamela answered inviting you all into the house.

“So what's next?” Bobby asked.

Pamela shrugged “A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed.”

“You're not gonna Summon the damn thing here,” Bobby exclaimed.

“No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.” Pamela answered not convincing anyone.

You looked at Bobby concerned and he sighed walking after her.

As you sat around the table you joined hands and closed your eyes.

“I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.” Pamela began to chant. I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easily. “

“Castiel” Dean questioned.

“It’s name “ Pamela answered “ he's warning me to turn back.

As the table shook you pleaded “Please, Pamela stop”

“I've got it “ she answered.

You looked at Sam scared and your head flung to Pamela as she screamed as her eyes burned.

“I can't see” she kept repeating.

“Call 911” you shouted at Bobby and held Pamela “ It's okay we got you.” Not really sure what the hell was going on.

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avatarmerida · 2 years

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The Origin of Orchids

In which Hunter almost ruins the confession. Almost. It’s very similar to another story I’ve already written but don’t think about that please

———

“...but it’s extremely hard to grow and I can’t seem to summon it again no matter how hard I try,” continued Willow as she and Hunter walked back to the Noceda house after picking up some groceries. Willow was sharing her frustration about being unable to recreate an intricate plant she had accidentally grown a few days prior.

“Maybe it’s the weather? Don’t some plants grow seasonally?” offered Hunter.

“I did consider that, but the weather has been constant,” replied Willow, happy to be able to talk about plant magic and have someone respond. The others let her ramble and think aloud, but they didn’t have much else to contribute besides encouragement. “I’ve tried recreating the time of day, the location, everything! I’m really glad I was able to do it. I just wish I knew how!”

“What about the moon cycle?” said Hunter to which Willow raised an eyebrow. “Hear me out! The moon controls the tides and plants need water… is that… anything?”

“It’s certainly… something,” Willow chuckled. “I’m sorry to bother you with this, but you were the only one there when I did it! Otherise, I’d probably think I had imagined the whole thing!’

“You could never bother me,” said Hunter, happy to help. He adjusted his grip on the shopping back as he thought back to the day. “It’s the first plant found only in the human realm that you’ve been able to summon, that’s a big deal! You said you tried recreating the time and place you summoned the orchid but do you remember everything about that day?”

“Yes, it was sunny but not too hot and I was in the garden monitoring the tulips, nothing unusual,” said Willow, conjuring the day in her mind. “Then you came outside and I turned around to say hi and you said that you had got me something and you gave me the cutest little watering can I’ve ever seen. And it was my favorite shade of green and you had painted a big golden ‘W’ on it and put little drawings of butterflies and flowers inside it and-.”

“I didn’t tell you I had painted it,” said Hunter, slightly embarrassed. “How did you know?”

“I know your handwriting,” she shrugged simply, not sensing his flusteredness. “It was so sweet. And I also knew you had painted it because you had some paint on your hand because you had taken off your gloves to paint it and you hadn’t put them back on yet.”

“Wow, you remember all that?” he chuckled nervously, noticing much of the story involved him and not the important orchid.

“Yeah,” she continued. “And then you handed me the watering can and then I hugged you…” she stopped walking as her sentence trailed through her mind. “And then I hugged you! Hunter I didn’t recreate everything! C’mon!”

She grabbed his free hand and started running back to the house as Hunter did his best to hold on tightly to the shopping bag.

“Captain slow down, I've got eggs in here!” he exclaimed, taking the shopping responsibilities entrusted to him by Mrs. Noceda very seriously.

“Sorry!” she said as they approached the front lawn where Willow’s garden resided and thrived. She carefully retraced her steps and brought Hunter over to the exact spot they had been when he had given her the watering can. “Okay, lemme see….”

She adjusted their footing to be as exact as possible, moving him slightly to the left to ensure the monet was recreated perfectly. He was confused, but asked no questions as she was clearly determined and focused and he was happy to help (and putty on her hands). Once she was satisfied, she wrapped her arms around him, trapping his at his sides just as she had done a few days prior. Her face rested against his chest as Hunter looked straight ahead, just as confused and flustered as he had been when they were in the original scenario.

The embrace was longer this time,as Willow attempted to focus on summoning the orchid, hoping that this was the missing piece. After a few moments (which felt like hours to Hunter) when nothing availed, she pulled away with a sigh.

“Hmmm,” she said quietly. “I really thought that was it.”

“Maybe I should get you another watering can?” tried Hunter, noticing that while she was not holding him as tightly she had not fully let go of him, her arms resting on his as she searched her mind.

“Was it a magic watering can?” she asked, only half joking. “Everything else is the same, I’m even wearing the same shoes. What else…. Wait!”

She looked back up at him as his eyes darted down to her face, eager to hear her realization. He was stunned to see her face donning a crimson shade that reminded him so much of Flapjack. He was about to ask her if she was alright when she spoke again, as if choosing her words carefully.

“There was one more thing….” she hesitated to continue, though Hunter couldn’t see why. He searched his own brain for details of the day, his mind a fuzzy light fog recalling how tight she had hugged him, and remembered when she had pulled away.

“Oh, yeah,” said Hunter, finishing her thought. “You had dirt on your cheek.”

“Yeah,” breathed Willow. “Um, and then you brushed it off for me.”

“Yeah,” said Hunter. “Oh, we can get some dirt. Hold on!” He jogged over to the garden and scooped some into his hand. “Is that really the missing piece? I didn’t realize plant magic was so detail oriented. Does it matter how much or how fresh? Here, did you wanna-.”

“Hunter I… I don’t think it was the dirt that made me summon the orchid,” said Willow delicately.

“Oh,” said Hunter, confused with a handful of dirt. “Do you mean it wasn’t this dirt? Did you get it from someplace else or-.”

“No it was….” she exhaled, trying to compose herself. “When you touched my cheek… I didn’t know I had dirt on my face….”

“Oh Titan, Captain, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he sputtered. “It wasn’t alot, I promise. I-I have stuff on my face all the time! Look!” he smudged the dirt he held onto his cheek, definitely more than Willow had possessed days before. “See? It's not that bad, it’s good quality dirt! Nothing to be ashamed about!”

“Hunter no,” Willow laughed, walking over to him. “It’s… it’s not the dirt… what I mean is, um…” She stood in front of him, uncharastically nervous. His mind raced with what he could’ve said wrong, surely she was trying to spare his feelings since he was still new to social cues. “When I say I didn’t know I had dirt on my face, I mean I thought you were touching my face for a different reason…”

Because I’m weird? He thought. “W-what reason?”

“I thought, um…” her eyes darted to the ground as her voice grew softer, Hunter leaned in closer to hear, hanging on her every word no matter how timid. “I thought…”

He braced himself for the worst.

“I thought you were going to kiss me,” she said at last.

“Oh.” Hunter didn’t know what else to say. Should he apologize? Correct her? Should he bury himself in the ground having caused her unnecessary discomfort?

“So anyway…,” continued Willow with an airy laugh, regaining conviction in her voice. “I think I was able to summon the orchid because when you touched me, it made my magic stronger because…”

She trailed off, looking up at him as though the answer was so simple. Did he know the answer? Was this a link between plant magic and-oh. Of course; she had figured it out. She was smart, he should’ve known it was only a matter of time! The palistom wood he was made of amplified magic. When he had touched her, he wasn’t wearing his gloves so the direct contact boosted her magic and allowed her to summon the orchid.

She had been the the last one he told. Everyone else had figured it out or overheard, but for some reason Willow was different; he wanted to control the way she learned things about him. He wanted to share things with her, even difficult things, but this was something he wished he could forget so he put it off as long as he could. He had been trying to be better, to unlearn things, to change but this was something that bound him to his past forever and made truly moving on seem impossible. He knew that she knew how he hated talking about it, and figured that was why she hesitated now and looked for his permission to bring it up.

They spoke at the exact same time to finish Willow's hanging thought

“...because I’m in love with you.” “...because I’m a grimwalker.”

“What?” they said at the same time again.

“I um…” began Hunter, wishing he had waited. “I’m made of Palistrom wood, technically. Heh.”

“I know,” she said, also knowing how much he hated talking about it, surprised he would choose to dwell on that and not comment on her confession. “But… did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah,” said Hunter softly, averting his gaze. As hard as it was, he needed to make sure she understood. How selfish would he be if he allowed her to think she had romantic feelings for him when it was the palintrom wood all along? “And... I didn’t mean to trick you, I-.”

“Trick me?” she repeated, confused. “What do you mean? You didn’t trick me.”

“Well, I…” he struggled to find the words. He didn’t want to imply that she was gullible, but he knew this was the only logical explanation to this impossible situation. “I’ve been reading about grimwalkers to the best of my ability here, trying to remember scattered things I’ve seen before and it’s common for these things to happen. Because the same component present in a paliman is also used-.”

“Hunter,” Willow cut him off before he could begin rambling. “Even if that’s a part of it I… I still… you know how my magic is linked to my emotions, right?”

“Yes.”

“So even if you being a grimwalker helped amplify my magic, the type of flower it helped summon… that was summoned by how I feel about you… and I’ve never been able to summon a flower that rare before.”

“You’ve also never met a grimwalker before,” he pointed out.

“You don’t know that.” she said.

“I- I guess I don’t,” he admitted, mulling the thought over. “But it’s very unlikely!”

“I’ve also never been in love before,” she continued,fidgeting with her hands. “That I do know for sure.”

“Well, erm,” Hunter cleared his throat, finding that point harder to counter. “Me neither…”

Willow’s eyes went wide with horror as her hands shot to cover her mouth and she gasped in embarrassment. “Oh my Titan, I’m so sorry,” she groaned.

“What?” Hunter asked with concern.

“Here I am trying to convince you that I’m in love with you while you’re just trying to let me down gently,” she said, totally mortified, burying her face in her hands. “I’m just embarrassing myself ans you’re being so nice about it! Oh, I shouldn't have assumed you felt the same way just because-.”

“Oh, no no no!” said Hunter, now it was his turn for his eyes to go wide in terror as he set the bags down and took her by the shoulders. “That’s not what I meant! I meant like before now!”

“What?”

“Yeah!” said Hunter, not realizing what he had just confessed to her, more focused on reassuring her. “But that’s another thing about the Palistrom aspect, having emotional connections. So because I’m in lo-.”

He froze. He was stuck. He had planned on picking up eggs today, not telling Willow every deep secret he harbored. He was digging himself a metaphorical hole but he wished it was a real one so he could dive into it and escape from this moment he couldn’t seem to stop ruining.

“Wait,” said Willow, coming out of a pause of her own, a smile creeping onto her face as she took delight in his halt. ‘So…”

“So! We should probably get inside, right?” said Hunter, not knowing what else to do, picking up the grocery bag with great forced enthusiasm . “I mean, um, ya know the eggs should probably be-.”

“Hunter,” she laughed, gently removing the bags from his hands agin and placing them on the ground so she could take his hands in hers. “I think… we should talk about this.”

“I…” Hunter felt like he would only embarrass her. Why did he say anything? Having a grimwalker admitting they’re in love with you was not something that happened every day. Hunter knew what romantic feelings were but until he met Willow he had no idea what they felt like. They were a rare combination of so many things: caring, fear, bravery. But grimwalker were also a rare combination of things, and Hunter was certain this was the reason for the confusion on Willow’s part. The nature of his origin messed with her magic in a way that usually only love could, it was a simple mistake anyone could make! Even the brightest of witches!

“I do… care about you alot,” he started, feeling that while ‘love’ did feel accurate and true, it was too strong a word to lean on at the moment. “And I really like you and I thought these feelings would go away, like they were from a sickness or a spell, but they’ve only gotten stronger. Which, I supposed could still be symptoms of a sickness or spell, they don’t necessarily have to diminish with time unless-.”

“Hunter!” said Willow, snapping him back yet again.

“Right, um,” he tried to regroup his thoughts. “But if you're feeling that way about me…”

“I am.” she said with bright confidence.

“I uh…I have to assume it’s a side effect of me being a grim walker,” he said.

“Wait, so are you saying that… you can be in love with me but I can’t be in love with you?”

Hunter nodded, grateful she understood.

“Hunter, that’s ridiculous,” said Willow bluntly.

“Not if you consider the facts.”

“I have, and the facts are that I’ve liked you for awhile and apparently you feel the same way about me and this would normally be a very nice and romantic moment but you’re being stubborn which oddly enough is one of the reasons I like you.”

“But that’s only because-.”

“Hunter…” she tried to find words that would demonstrate how ridiculous he sounded before he could blame her infatuation on Palistrom wood again. She always thought the hard part of this would be gathering the courage to confess, not preparing a works cited page. “If that was true, then wouldn’t everyone feel this way about you?”

“Well, no,” he said casually, as though they were debating flyer dery strategies. “Because I have romantic feelings for you, I have the ability to strengthen your magic. The same way being around other people’s palismans doesn’t affect you the way your own does.”

“Then why can’t I summon a butterfly orchid with Clover’s help?” asked Willow, crossing her arms smugly.

Hunter was stumped. “I’ll have to get back to you on that, I think maybe it’s because of the grim aspect of the name-.”

“Okay fine, I’ll prove it to you,” she said, ever determined. “Kiss me.”

“Um, excuse me?” Hunter felt like he was about to float away. “W-w-what will that prove?”

“If you’re going to be dramatic then so am I,” she said, summoning stubborness of her own. “I’m not going to stand here and let you tell me how I feel without doing all the necessary research to support my hypothesis.”

As much as Hunter wanted to debate her, hearing her talk about validating research did make him want to kiss her. He would do anything for her, and if it took kissing her to convince her that she couldn’t be in love with him then so be it.

“Okay then,” he whispered and inched forward looking at Willow skeptically. He had thought about this moment before, in spite of himself, and even though it would only break his heart he wanted to get it right.

He was suddenly aware of how quiet the street was. He heard the faint sound of cars, streets away and windchimes from the neighbors house. He could hear Willow steadying her breath, and the closer he got the more hypnotized he felt. He moved slowly, but in his mind time stopped all together. A true bittersweet moment, he insticitly closed his eyes and right before he met her lips, she spoke.

“Open your eyes,” Willow whispered. His stopped, and his eyes shot open on her command and seeing how close he was to Willow’s face made reality come crashing down on him. Hunter leaned back, nearly losing his balance before Willow grabbed his arm to steady him. “Careful, you don’t want to crush them.”

“What? The eggs?” he said, glancing down to make sure he hadn’t stepped on the grocery bag.

“No,” replied Willow with a smile. “The orchids.” She gestured with her head and Hunter looked around the ground to find that they were surrounded by a circle of the rare orchid she had been struggling recrete.

He looked around with admiration and confusion.. “I… wow… wait, how did you…?”

“I told you, it’s the same thing that happened the last time I thought you were gonna kiss me,” she said simply, as though she thought about kissing him often. Wait, did she? “And I also thought about how you said you feel about me and… poof!”

“But, what about-?”

“And we didn’t touch, so you can’t blame this on your grimwalker powers,” she said, wagging a finger in his face. He never thought to think of his grimwalker traits as ‘powers. “Now do you believe me?”

He looked around again at the perfectly formed butterfly orchids surrounding him, tangible proof that Willow Park had romantic feelings for him. Clear evidence, brought forth by a controlled experiment that the feelings he felt were genuinely returned. He was in disbelief, and found it hard to accept not because it was unwanted but because it seemed too good to be true. But, then again, when was the last time Willow had been wrong?

“Maybe it’s… both?” he offered. “But… even knowing I’m a grimwalker… and what that means…you still feel that way about me?”

She nodded.

“That’s bananas.”

“I… don't know what those are,” giggled Willow.

“Me neither,” admitted Hunter, running the back of his neck nervously. “Luz keeps putting the on the shopping list but I never know where to look for them and-.”

“Ya know, I wonder what kind of flowers I’d be able to summon if you actually did kiss me,” said Willow, rocking back on forth on her heels. “They’d probably be pretty impressive.”

“Yeah,” said Hunter, considering how the structure of the magic and resources could have the final result would either increase in size or number before he realized what she was implying, what she had been implying. Standing before him was the girl he was totally crazy about saying she was totally crazy about him and wanted him to kiss her. Why was he just standing there?!

He took a deep breath and regathered his nerves and gently placed his hands on her shoulders (mostly to steady himself) as he cautiously stepped forward again. Knowing how slow he tended to move, Willow expedited the process and reached her arms out to grab onto his shirt to pull him towards her, wasting no more time.

It wasn’t a long kiss. It was clumsy and awkward but the fact that it was happening at all made it perfect. Hunter didnt know when he had closed his eyes, but when he opened them to make sure Willow hadn’t disappeared as part of a dream, he found her face glowing with a pink flush. She smiled at him as she adjusted her glasses, having gone askew when he moved his hands, before placing her hands atop his and sighing contently. He returned her smile and as he looked at her with admiration and tried to remember how to breathe, he realized that he didn’t need to bend down to look into her sparkling eyes, but found her now at his level.

“Wait… how?” Hunter looked down and saw the pale pink flowers their kiss had inspired had created a sort of delicate staircase underneath her feet to bring her closer to him. “Woah. What kind of flowers are those?”

“I’ve only seen drawings of what they might look like so I can’t be sure but I think… those are palistrom flowers.” Willow said, marveling at her creation.

“Wow, that’s-.” Hunter leaned forward to look at them closer when a crunching sound made him freeze for the second time that day.

“Hunter? What’s wrong?”

“I think I stepped on the eggs.”

#huntlow #willow park #hunter wittebane #toh #the owl house #winter toh #winter

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itsnothingofinterest · 2 years

Text

You know what, I’m gonna do something fun. You remember that theory I had about AFO stealing the Shimuras quirks and those quirks & corresponding vestiges being in Tomura? Well I’m thinking I’m gonna take a crack at guessing what those quirks could be (/making up whatever sounds cool & might work because there’s not much to build off of), under the assumption that Tomura will get and use them like Deku and the OFA vestige quirks. Because I’ve grown really attached to this theory*.

Kotaro Shimura:

Starting off is everyone’s...at least 2nd least hated abusive parental figure of MHA and Nana’s son; Kotaro.

My guess for him is one I had since his last appearance alive, when a pair of hedge trimmers seemed like they flew to his hand to help him strike his son. Not that that’s how it happened in the anime, but I’m still attached to the idea regardless. I think he had a form of Psychokinesis, similar to Inko Midoriya (if you’d like, feel free to insert an Inko Shimura theory here). It seems a natural child quirk to Float, and would be useful to Tomura.

A telepathy quirk would, for example, allow Tomura to fight at range in a way he (and most of his allies) otherwise can’t; which opponents have tried to use against him in the past.

Chizuo:

Now, because of that fact that quirks build of their parent quirks, we’re gonna be a bit unconventional and do the grandparents next and move down the family tree; starting with the father-in-law because his cooking gives him one (1) actual character trait to base some assumptions off of. So I’m only mostly making something up from thin air.

Of course it probably wouldn’t be anything too impressive, being a civilian, so I’m gonna go with something really basic but potentially useful. Namely, a heightened sense of taste and smell that allowed him to become a fairly decent cook in life; mostly for his family.

Still as I said, basic can be useful, and a heightened sense of small could provide Shigaraki numerous advantages like it does Gigantomachia; such as tracking opponents or sniffing out traps.

Mako:

The grandmother, and sadly the one who we know the least about and has no parents I can speculate on; meaning I’m just making something up from scratch. If there’s anything to build on, it’s that she was a caring person, and I kinda get the impression she was the bread-winner of the pair back in her day. Hmm...

How’s about a Magic Hand quirk. Like the DnD cantrip. The ability to conjure some energy hands for when you need an extra pair or some extra reach. ...It’s the best I got.

Now Magic Hand might not seem too useful for Tomura; what with them likely to not be able to kill people or steal quirks like his normal hands, and also he can conjure all the hands he wants now. But idk, I think a pair of ghostly grabbers could prove useful.

Nao Shimura:

The penultimate family memeber; it’s time for Tenko’s kinder parent, Nao Shimura. Sadly, she is also someone without much of a developed personality outside her familial role to take power ideas from; but we did just came up with ideas for her parents to combine & build off of. Better than nothing.

Magic Hand & Enhanced Taste shall combine to form Body Double. The idea is that she conjures up an assistant made from a mist she exhales to, like her mom’s quirk, act as an extra pair of hands. Except it’s better because it’s a whole body. Still relatively short range though, if just to give room for her daughter.

This would be useful to Tomura as a distraction and something to take a hit for him when he’s in danger. Because it feels fitting for his mother’s quirk to be the one to best protect his life. (especially since I keep theorizing he’ll give Regen to Dabi.)

Hana Shimura:

Last but only technically least, one of the first Shimuras we ever saw, and the one I assume has the best quirk after Decay in the Shimura family since she had ambitions of being a hero; it’s Hana’s turn.

Factoring that with her free spirit, and combining Psychokinesis with Body Double, I’m guessing she had an Astral Projection quirk. The ability to create a solid double of herself which can be remote controlled. Unlike her mother’s quirk, which was more like an extra set of limbs, Astral Projection allows the user to see and hear through it and use it from any distance; and had Hana grown proficient with it, she even would have been able to change it’s shape in a variety of useful ways.

When combined with the AFO quirk in Tomura’s hands though, it allows for an even greater application. As by allowing a quirk vestige to inhabit the Astral Projection; Tomura could effectively bring back to life anyone who’s quirk was stolen, including anyone in his family. With enough control, perhaps his entire family! Now the catch is that any Projection may not be able to use their own quirk, as that would still be in Tomura’s body. But since the form could shape shift, the vestige may be able to replicate their quirk by simply shaping their body the way it should do with their quirk.

Such an awesome ability would surely become one of Tomura’s headliner powers, thus making the duo they always wanted to be...probably minus the ‘hero’ part, depending on when all this happens. (And honestly I don’t think he could ever be a hero with how the word has been soured for him.) But the important part is, they’d be working together. And with the rest of the family to boot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Incidentally, because I am so attached t this theory, I happily welcome others to share their own ideas for the Shimuras’ quirks if you have any and are interested in sharing (which I presume you are if you’ve read this far into this theory post).

#bnha #shimura tenko #kotaro shimura #tenko's grandparents #nao shimura #hana shimura #shigaraki tomura #gigantomachia #league of villains #lov #paranormal liberation front #PLF #all for one #nana shimura #inko midoriya #quirk analysis

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dansnaturepictures · 2 months

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Remembering Winnie: The extraordinary Winchester Peregrine

Following the sad news of Winnie’s passing following a scuffle with a newly arrived female last week (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-hampshire-68478589) I wanted to look back on what Winnie meant to the city and her species and my personal journey with her.

Winnie at the cathedral in January 2024

Winnie and her partners Chester and then William have done amazing things for their species nesting both at Winchester Cathedral where they became global stars thanks to the nesting tray in the gully and the webcam and the old Police headquarters building before that. It’s so awe-inspiring to consider how many chicks the pairs produced and what a wonderful impact this has had on the numbers of this species which continues to bounce back strongly. In 2020 they raised an extraordinary five chicks. It is also incredible how they and particularly super mother Winnie also came to represent the species. From Chichester to York having Peregrine Falcons nesting on cathedrals and similar buildings in cities is very much a trend of modern Britain and I remember when I first began working in Winchester in 2016 (a year before Winnie and Chester’s relocation to the cathedral as their nesting ground) I was desperate to see my birth and new work city join the trend. From people I have met and spoken about them with behind the fence looking up at their inspiring north tower nest site at the cathedral to people on social media including those maybe not as interested in birds as myself it has been heartening to hear so much enthusiasm for these magnificent birds. It was a sad day learning of Winnie’s passing, but it was somewhat comforting that it was in the grip of the brutality of nature and completely within a natural process that she met her end rather than anything more sinister given the persecution of birds of prey that still is sadly so present in the country. And of course with the new female appearing to slot in with William seamlessly as I observed first hand at the cathedral on Thursday (having it seems, seen the two females together on nearby St. Thomas Church perhaps before/during the scuffles the Wednesday before) I’m so glad there are still Peregrines in Winchester.

Winnie at the cathedral in 2019

Winnie at the cathedral in 2020

2021 chicks at the cathedral

I have so much to thank the Winchester Peregrines for personally. Before they started nesting at the cathedral from 2017 and successfully from 2018 I really liked Peregrines, you can’t really be into birds and not admire the fastest in the world and such a fantastic and beautiful species. It was a species I saw sporadically, I actually think I’d count myself lucky to see one once or twice a year. So it was quite something when from 2018 to early 2020 when I worked in Winchester every day, especially in the breeding season, I was able to see a Peregrine most days (or most weeks/at least once a month perhaps outside the breeding season). And I really became so familiar with them and so enamoured with them, they became one of my favourite birds thanks to the Winchester ones. When seeing them elsewhere at places I did more so before the Winchester ones, mostly coastal marsh locations that extra love I had for them was really clear. I came to reflect in recent years how Peregrines are really evocative of marsh locations where outside of Winchester I’m most used to seeing them and also my favourite area generally rugged coasts with cliffs and the thought of a Peregrine with their almost haunting call really conjures up a sense of the wild for me. So when seeing them at the cathedral and St. Thomas Church where they also spend a lot of time often a staging post for the chicks development in my working days I get an injection of the wild often much needed in a busy city working day which is so powerful. I really do never tire of the amazing opportunities to see and photograph the birds in Winchester and I often have to pinch myself and say “There’s a Peregrine Falcon up there!”

Winnie at St. Thomas Church in 2022

I think Winnie takes the greatest place in my heart among the Winchester Peregrines as following original partner Chester’s passing in 2021 a year later my full time working from home arrangements (bar the odd day here and there) morphed into the hybrid system with two days in Winchester in the office per week and the rest at home so I was back in the city on a regular basis. Winnie with her new partner William and the three chicks they produced between 2022 and 2023 spearheaded a new era for me. The thing that the Peregrines first drove me to do in 2019, bringing my second camera my bridge camera in my work bag on some office days as it fits in, became an even more regular thing. When factoring in some odd days I was required to come into the office each month and photographed them on my lunch break before the hybrid system began between November 2021 and January 2022 between Winchester Cathedral and St. Thomas Church I managed to photograph them in twenty four consecutive months that run finally came to an end when I didn’t manage a photo of one in November 2023 which felt so special. After photographing one in every month apart from March in 2019 before the pandemic hit in 2020 I wanted to photograph one in every month of the year one year, doing that in 2022 as part of that incredible run was worth waiting for. When considering my time watching Winnie I don’t know where the years have gone but it’s wholesome to think that I was seeing this same bird regularly for six or seven years (I only had fleeting glimpses of one flying during the 2017 breeding season earlier into my Winchester working days at my old job where I didn’t necessarily go to the cathedral as much and I don’t believe it was public knowledge that they were nesting at the cathedral so much and can’t recall which, though one was flying past the office window as it was nearer to the cathedral back then). That consistency of seeing one bird for so long is really valuable and a fairly rare thing I suppose. With my photography it has created such a special relationship with Peregrines too of being able to take so many photos of them and strive for and develop things. I have enjoyed many great times watching them on the webcam giving everyone invaluable access to watch them too. https://www.winchester-cathedral.org.uk/explore/peregrines/

Winnie at the cathedral in 2023

Thank you for everything Winnie, it’s been a blast! I will never forget her, but watch with interest to see how the new pair do this year and beyond.

A couple more of the many chicks, at the cathedral in 2019

The late days of Winnie, a shot of her taking pride of place atop the cathedral's north tower in February 2024.

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lunarrolls · 10 months

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hiii luna hiii you said for the ask game we could do dnd characters so if you want to, the Wish spell with Alden and Perle?

elysium you little shit. giving me the ultimate angst spell with my silly little blorbos. well TOO BAD. nobody’s casting wish even though there’s definitely a timeline in my mind in which that scenario becomes real BUT you can have some pre-campaign shenanigans because i Do Love Them So Much,

•

Wish is a 9th level conjuration spell on the sorcerer and wizard spell lists.

Wish is the mightiest spell a mortal creature can cast. By simply speaking aloud, you can alter the very foundations of reality in accord with your desires.

The basic use of this spell is to duplicate any other spell of 8th level or lower. You don’t need to meet any requirements in that spell, including costly components. The spell simply takes effect.

•

Perle sits draped over Alden’s windowsill. He’s engaged in some crafty new thing, probably homework, but that’s alright—Perle’s an expert at talking to the air, and Alden’s an expert at half-listening in a wonderful way that never makes her feel belittled. It’s part of why she likes him so much.

“Sage?” Perle asks, kicking her legs back and forth. “Saaaage?”

“Mm,” Alden responds, not looking up from their work. “What’s that?”

“Elle told me,” Perle says conspiratorially, “that there’s some crazy magic out there. And she would know, right? She’s got all that—that weird—well, you know. I’ve told you about Elle, right?”

“Mhm,” Alden says, fiddling with something very small in the contraption set on his worktable.

“Right, well, today, her ballad—I actually got to sit in the audience this time and really listen to what she was saying rather than having to perform alongside her with those lights I just learned, and the lyrics! They were so mystical, almost heroic! Absolutely gorgeous, in my book. So I asked her where she got the inspiration.”

Perle grins, flopping onto his back to stare up at the small crescent of starlight that’s just barely visible from Alden’s window. “She said that her mother and her mother’s mother and so on and so forth—all that shit, the generational stuff, you get it—passed on stories of great magical prowess, of a spell so powerful, it could reshape reality. She said that the spell plucks a star from the sky and forces it to grant you a wish. The caster has to wrangle a star into submission, Sage, that’s—that’s fucking crazy, right?”

Alden actually looks up at that, considering their words. “I think I’ve heard of something like that. Vaguely. Obviously, it’s banned in Piltover—“

“—right, this definitely happened outside Piltover, even before the undercity was here,” Perle adds, nodding along.

“Yeah, yeah, but… I think it’s taught, still. At least, its existence is. It’s probably just a fable, anyway. There’s no way magic like that exists out there.”

“Right, right,” Perle half-heartedly agrees. “But, you know, it’s fun to think about. Like, if you had a wish like that, what would you do?”

Alden pauses, staring thoughtfully off into the distance. “Um, I’m not sure. That’s kind of a big ask, isn’t it? The kind of power to reshape reality… seems like I’d be a waste of a caster to have that.”

Perle frowns and sits up abruptly. “I don’t think so. You’re the most capable caster I’ve ever seen. You could run Hextech yourself, probably better than—“

“Oh, come on, Perle,” Alden scoffs, leaning back. “Don’t be rude.”

Perle relishes in the brief excitement in his chest at Alden using his new name. It’s been a long, long time since he was anyone but Abalone to anyone, even his mothers. He can’t remember a time he’d been anything different, actually, and it felt… good, personal, intimate, friendly, safe, to have a name just for trusted people.

“I wouldn’t be rude to two random rich bastards if you weren’t mean to yourself,” Perle mumbles, crossing their arms. “But whatever. If I had a wish, I’d use it—well, actually… hm.”

“See? It’s hard!”

“I don’t know nearly as much magic as you do, that’s not fair!” Perle pouts. “And I can’t cast water magic with my hands at will, Perle,” Alden points out gently. “You’re also not allowed to be mean to yourself.”

“One day, one of us will be powerful enough to get a wish, and when that day comes, we’ll figure out what we want,” Perle decides. “Until then, we gotta think about it.”

Alden gives her a half-smile that indicates they don’t really believe her, but they definitely want to. “Sure.”

#city of dust #perlemoen alabaster #alden moreno #roll performance #charisma save #spelling disasters #dnd

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weatheredpileoftomes · 2 years

Text

shieldbearer

For FFxivWrite2022 Day 4, a free day, written to “party”. Grishild, early A Realm Reborn, ~1400 words. Past OC death, alcohol use, swearing. The ARR duty support NPCs make appearances here and should hopefully be easy enough to keep track of. I’ve been thinking about this one for a while.

As a former sword-and-shielder herself, Grishild trusts Avere not quite as far as she could kick him.

“That one’s bad news,” Grishild says softly, tipping her head across the gorge.

“How can you tell?” Fifina’s voice wobbles a little. She might not be sure she can do this, but Grishild’s seen her not just slinging spells at the training dummies, but locking the wheels of a runaway cart with ice before it could do more than smash a few crates.

Grishild just doesn’t like him. “He’s only polished the outside of his shield.”

“Huh,” says Sundyrund. His axe gleams, blade and haft alike. His armor’s solid too, well-oiled, the leather supple and the plate with not a speck of rust showing.

A Midlander woman runs up to Master Careless Shield’s group, breathless and babbling apologies. She’s got a conjurer’s cane strapped to her back, but she’s handing out potions to the others. Grishild looks at Kennard, curious.

He shrugs, his own cane bouncing with it. “Some people like the convenience.”

Kennard didn’t speak any louder than Grishild had, so they can all hear Master Careless Shield—Avere, apparently, by the woman’s frantic apologies—start scolding her.

Grishild’s palms itch. If she’d ever even thought about talking to Llayan like that, she would have deserved every bruise she kept. She’d never thought about it, because she wasn’t a bloody ungrateful idiot, Llayan was a damn good healer, and even a bad healer would have been better than none at all.

“I’m sorry!” Edda wails.

They’ve got a thaumaturge who’s watching Avere tear into Edda like it’s a gladiatorial match, and an archer who’s drinking straight out of the bottle, and Edda herself, doubled over with her hands braced on her thighs. Seven hells.

Edda deserves better than Llayan got in the end.

Grishild’s footsteps are silent on the thick grass. Avere doesn’t even see her coming until she stops right behind Edda and says, “The hells are you trying to do, get your whole squad killed?”

Avere looks up and scowls, then scowls darker as he realizes that Grishild is taller than he is and almost as broad across the shoulders, even though she’s wearing a light shirt under her armored vest and he’s armored like he expects a lot of people to hit him. She’d be happy to be first in line. He rallies, though, with an eyeroll and a “None of your business.”

If she’d had any good opinion of him left, that would’ve torn it. It is none of her business, but he should care anyway. He also shouldn’t be dismissing her as a threat, even—especially—to make a point. She’s not, as it happens, planning to put his guts on the outside of his body, but she’s got three knives strapped to her in plain sight and she knows she moves like she knows how to use them.

She crouches at Edda’s side, puts a soothing hand on the girl’s shoulder. Nophica spare her, Edda is small—younger than Llayan was, younger than any recruit Grishild remembers training. Maybe some of that’s Grishild being older now herself, but…damn. Damn. If she’d decided to get married and have kids instead of joining the Blades, the oldest might’ve been nearly Edda’s age. She can’t be much older than fifteen.

“You don’t want to be here,” Grishild says, gently as she can.

“Hey!” Avere shouts.

Edda gulps in air. “Oh, I d-do.” She holds out her left hand with a horrible kind of pride. The afternoon sunlight glints off the yellow metal of a ring. If it’s real gold, Grishild will eat it raw, but from the way Edda looks at it it might as well be. “Avere and I are—are engaged, we’re going to be real adventurers and when we have a little more money and a reputation we can finally get married! I can’t just leave him!”

Seven hells aren’t enough. Grishild looks up at Avere, taking him in from his shiny helmet to his muddy boots. He’s good-looking enough, she supposes, if that’s what you like, but surely the minute he opens his mouth that would put an end to that.

“Yeah.” He glares at her, like he thinks that’s actually going to scare her. It’s not that she thinks she’s too good to fear angry men with swords, but he’s got his fancy scabbard strapped so that it looks impressive but he’ll have to draw the sword slowly to keep from punching himself, and she could be up by then with both her knives out. “Stop trying to steal my girl.”

Frankly, if Grishild wanted to steal his girl, she’d’ve tried it already. Probably wouldn’t have succeeded, with how hung up on him Edda is, but she could do better than this.

The archer tips her head back, draining the last drops from the bottle.

“Look,” Grishild says to the thaumaturge, who at least could be both sober and in his right mind, “this isn’t a good plan. I was going to check out Sastasha myself, with a few fellows.”

She nods over to the group she’s…well, “assembled” makes it sound intentional, or like she’s responsible for them, and it isn’t and she isn’t. Sundyrund will be leading them once they’re inside the caverns, and Kennard will be keeping them all alive. If something happens to Sundyrund, Grishild will throw herself in front of Kennard if she has to—see how long her off-hand knife will serve as a shield—before she lets Noline or Fifina do the same, but none of it is on her. She hasn’t even set out to give them orders, they just keep…asking.

Noline waves.

“You and Edda could come with us.” She looks up at the archer, who’s—shit and derision, gazing at Avere. “You, archer—”

“Liavinne,” the thaumaturge says. He bows. “My name is Paiyo Reiyo.”

Sure, fine. “Grishild Wyght.” Crouched as she is, she can’t bow back, but she inclines her head. “Good to meet you. Liavinne, you’re going to get yourself killed all on your own if you go into battle drunk, but you’d be welcome to join us—sober—any other time.”

“No thanksh.” Liavinne leans a little toward Avere, and it takes real effort for Grishild to keep her hand from tightening on Edda’s shoulder.

They’d all adored Llayan, any soul in the squadron as ready as Grishild to give their all to protect her, and it still hadn’t been enough. Her corpse had been found just fulms away from Grishild’s unconscious body—she hadn’t even had time to run, or, knowing Llayan, even if she’d had the time she wouldn’t have done it. Edda won’t even have that, when things go wrong.

“Paiyo Reiyo—”

“Stop trying to steal my group!” Avere shouts. “The hells is your problem?”

“The hells is yours?” Grishild stands up, anyway. They’re not listening. “You’re not taking care of your gear, you’re not ready to draw that sword of yours fast—if it’s even sharp as well as shiny—and if I’d ever talked to a healer the way you’re talking to your fiancée I would have…” She shakes her head. They wouldn’t even have let her die for it, is the thing, not just sweet-tempered Llayan but any of the Blades’ conjurers and alchemists. They all took their work too seriously. She can’t imagine not respecting that.

Paiyo Reiyo bows again. “Thank you for the offer, but we’ll be fine.”

You won’t, Grishild thinks. What can she do about it, though? She can’t very well keep them out of Sastasha by force. If she’s quick enough—if they’re quick enough, depending on what they face, how many foes Sundyrund is comfortable trying to hold the attention of, how much damage Kennard is used to healing, whether Fifina and Noline as well as Grishild herself can take out their enemies before Sundyrund gets overrun. It’s not about Grishild anymore, and that’s how she wants it.

Even so, helplessness and despair weigh too familiar on her again.

“If you change your mind,” she says again, and Liavinne of all people nods. Well, it’s something, at least.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #my fic #my fic: grishild #my fic: grishild: gen #my fic: 2.0 #grishild wyght #edda pureheart #avere bravearm #arr duty support npcs #my screenshots #my screenshots: grishild

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tornsurvivors · 1 year

Text

“Urgh!!! Why can’t I ever get it right?” The gnome bemoaned, hanging her head and planting her face into her tiny hands. Jaina stifled a chuckle, hiding her amused smile with a hand and wrinkled her nose at the heap of what was supposed to be conjured sweets. Instead, looking like a burnt pile of... something most definitely not edible.

“Don’t worry, Kinndy. You will get it right, eventually. It’s not the end of the world.” This time, Jaina let out a laugh -- it was a soft and breathy sound, carefree. With a strong hint of amusement especially when her apprentice gave a doleful look. It was almost so jarring to see such an expression, considering the bright personality that Kinndy was. Jaina then shook her head, smiling and rested a hand on Kinndy’s shoulder.

“Take a moment first. Breathe in and then out, okay?” She nodded when Kinndy did so, before continuing and lowered her hand back onto her own lap. “Alright, good. Now take your mind back to those moments when you were in the kitchen with your mother. Tell me about them. Was there an indescribable joy on her face when she baked?”

Jaina couldn’t help but smile again as she watched Kinndy close her eyes and think back. More so at the way Kinndy also smiled and the creases in her features clearly spoke of how sentimental those memories were. “Yes... she was always so excited. Always eager to teach me new recipes she came up with all by herself or learned from others.”

“Hold onto that, Kinndy. That emotion, that passion and utilize it.” Jaina paused for a moment, remembering the first time she was learning how to control her magical prowess. “Using spells and conjuring things are not as simple as you can clearly see. They also depend on our emotional capacity. Why do you think different types of magic exist? Unlike the darker magics, we use ours for the better and to help people. What you’re trying to do isn’t selfish and for your own personal gain. You’re merely following in your mother’s footsteps because you share the same passion she does, no? You couldn’t get it right, because you’re only thinking about just that... trying to get it right. You’re not thinking about the love you have for baking as your mother has.”

Jaina could easily tell the gears were starting to turn in Kinndy’s head, all by the shift in her apprentice’s expression. Slight confusion at first, then realization and then... relief and a quiet joy.

And then Kinndy began to conjure once more.

Her smile brightened and she could feel pride bursting from within for Kinndy at the sight of the perfectly conjured baked goods. Sweet mana buns that looked every bit as they should and more.

“Oh... I did it, Jaina! I FREAKING DID IT! LOOK AT THAT!” Jaina winced a little from the shriek, before sharing a joyous laugh with her apprentice when the gnome launched herself at Jaina and into a fierce hug. Well, as fierce her smaller arms could reach but it was enough.

“I knew you could do it! As Rhonin had said, you have a lot of potential. Don’t ever forget that.”

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

The warm memory floated out of her mind, rudely interrupted by the bright flash of lightning outside of her window -- followed by a deep rumble within the earth beneath the Proudmoore Keep.

“And I’m still proud of you. Even now.” She whispered to nothing but air, before exhaling shakily and closed her eyes. Her hands clutched tighter at the book in her lap when she felt tears begin to well up and she just let them fall this time.

It was about time she let it out anyway.

As horrific the fall of Theramore was, she knew that Kinndy did ALL she could to help people. To save them just as much Jaina had. As much Rhonin had. Their deaths weren’t for nothing, and they never would be.

#here.#have an emotional memory.#THROWS IT AT YOU ALL.#yes share my love for jaina #and feel the PAIN that I feel for her.#:))#𝖩𝖠𝖨𝖭𝖠 𝖧𝖢 » ahoy sweet daughter of the seas #𝖩𝖠𝖨𝖭𝖠 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 » sometimes there’s no way to save everyone #DRABBLES » memoirs of a torn survivor

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lastchanze · 2 years

Photo

what’s in your heart ? ⸻

» 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 . . . » 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 ⸻ 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝟷 ⸻ » 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎 ⌄

The entity’s body draped around her like a tapestry of shadows. “The she-witch! The demon!” it giggled. Its cobra-like wrap around Haeun constricts tighter with every word. “I remember all those names you were called,” it said. With a spineless slither, it released the warrior and loomed overhead with wide, soulless eyes. “Don’t you hate them? Don’t you hate this wretched kingdom for how everyone treated you, the poor little girl with acid blood?” it asked. “I think that I too, was wrongfully hated.” The Boundary back-and-forth like a desperate minnow, the conjuring of an old memory clearly upsetting the phantom. “Ah, but you want revenge, don’t you?” it said. “I am not your enemy, but your ally.”

𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗗. a word she never acknowledged. she didn’t need to acknowledge it when it was so elegantly curled around every inch of her, blended perfectly with who she was so that she didn’t even see it anymore when she looked in the mirror. it simply pervasively entrapped her. it kept her alone. it kept her hungry. it kept her in misery. it just kept her.

she could drown in the implications of what the entity pushing buttons inside of her prodded at. it pushed her, it coiled around her, she could choke on those implications.

in an instant, the world peels away like chipped paint on a canvas and suddenly, she’s back in that soggy house, the deafening roar of wind beyond the walls threatening to drown out her senses even now. collapsing in on itself. her reality, the building. this is where she saved the girl; lydia, age 14, her mother was a baker at the local pastry shop. the choked groans from her lips still send haeun into shock. feeling hazy and out of place, she practically floats over, with none of the rush she remembered having. there’s rubble crushing lydia’s legs, and she reaches out for help and haeun’s instincts reach right back, a delicate gasp slipping from her lips. she only looks down at her gaping wound, the maroonish colored ichor that poured from her hands a moment too late. she had only wanted to help... the last thing she hears are lydia’s piercing screams, and then the ground falls out, and she’s plummeting down a black, bottomless abyss.

landing with a crunch on the ground, her entire body revolts, exploding in pain like a broken glass and shattering her senses in the progress. she’s suddenly slipping all over marble floor, the pools of her blood creating slippery puddles, denting the ground and slowly steaming. the room around her fills with an audience. mean darkness where faces should be, grim and ghoulish, shouting obscenities.

her head spins. she’s losing too much blood, but her panic and the burn of shame in her chest leashes her ability to control herself. to stopper the blood that pours and save herself. “please,” she begs and the humanoid chorus of darkness around her laughs, “i didn’t mean to.” she knows better than to ask for help. whether giving, or receiving, it’s a word that’s outside of her reach.

the worst of it comes then.

it’s in the broadness of his back. she’d missed it. this time she’s abruptly transported, without even so much a transition. she’s simply dropped right behind him, with her hands already extended, midway through the action of gouging into her arm, watching the blood spew and drench everything down. the faceless invader, her husband. she could have been sick, she opened her mouth to lose the contents of her stomach, to scream, to recall what it was like to breathe, but nothing surmounts from it.

silence. she can’t make a sound.

so her thoughts beg instead.

please. . .

her husband disappears, everything resets like chess pieces on the board and she’s standing on the checkered floor all alone. she’s heaving, hysterical without all of the waterworks or the blubber of sound. it’s all as raw and real as if it had happened yesterday.

hatred? did she feel hatred? it’s worse than that. it’s a hatred so synonymous with who she was that she was numb from it. like become accustomed to hot water she no longer recoiled and hissed, she no longer fought it. it just sunk in, bone deep, and left her steaming. she sobs and at last the song of it fills the room, a broken, wet sound. but not a sad sound, the emotion that fuels it is something else. something exacting, barely human.

she’d do anything not to feel helpless again.

it’s why she tried to embrace her abilities recently. it’s what lead her to the house of vanitas, to the scars over her skin from learning what it meant to control this mess. this whole mess.

but it wasn’t enough. it never felt like enough. she crooned, wrecked, ill conceived at every corner, thinking that every shadow would once again grow a face. that any one of them could mount offense against her for the simple crime of existing.

not even her assistance was wanted. then what did they want, if not her help, her kindness and earnestness?

her gaze glazes, her features melting into nothing, mind, breaks down. a thousand lightyears away. hopelessness in rage. rage in hopelessness. and in the darkness, it appears.

The Boundary approached her again.

“I want...just a piece of you,” it whispered. An outstretched hand reached for where Haeun’s heart should be. “I want it so badly, I swear to grant your wish.” As if stung, The Boundary recoiled back. It slowly disintegrated into darkness, leaving her alone in the nightmare where illusions and old memories lurked around every corner.

“Won’t you...accept my offer?”

she finally opens her mouth to speak it comes out in like a toad. “of course i hate them.” of course she does. how could she not? she sounded detached, vocally mellowed, like dry sand. “but i don’t blame them.” she reasons with it, herself. a last ditch to save herself.

shaking, inhaling, she swallows harshly. “i’m so angry all of the time ⸻ i can’t stand it. it’s so exhausting.” she lifts her palms, colored with thick blood like slowly drying oil paint. the color of it disgusts her. but she needs it. “are you saying you can really help me take control of this?” this anger. her fate. her fear. the urge to rip apart the glimmer of distrust in the face of everyone as she grew up. to be a kid and faced with such hate. it changes a person.

she doesn’t receive an answer. the offer was enough.

her heart plunges. what does she have to lose? not the love of her life. not herself; she can’t remember the last time she felt like haeun. “i don’t care. take whatever. just help me take control of it all.” all of it. she meant it. all of it, entirely, completely. she’s not foolish enough to think they’re allies. there’s likely to be strings. but if she takes the power, she’s more than willing to face the entire world, alone.

#softly but with a lot of feeling: frick #cag: event #e01 #got carried away #love to see it #dev: haeun.

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abbatoirablaze · 1 year

Text

The Understudies, Season 2, Chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: none really

“Miss?” the nurse asked, breaking me from my thoughts of the names I’d conjured. She took a few nervous steps in, “miss…we have a phone number for your father if you wanted to call him. He keeps disconnecting on us. The phone by your bedside is able to be used…I’ll be right outside if you need anything, okay sweetheart?”

I nodded. She handed me a piece of paper, and then curtly left the room. I felt the ball of nerves rise into my throat from my stomach. Sitting up, I threw my legs over the side of the bed. Forgetting about the paper beside me, I took a second to look down when my feet didn’t touch the floor.

What on earth?

I looked at my arms. Why did I feel smaller?

I got up and ran to the bathroom that was connected to my room. I rushed to pull the cord by the mirror, but I didn’t need it to confirm my suspicions. As the electricity buzzed into the bulb, I stared at myself in horror. I looked like a teenager.

Something about this felt wrong.

I screamed.

The light shattered and the bathroom went dark.

The nurse came bustling in and tried to calm me down. Tried to get me into the bed, “it’s okay sweetheart. It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“I look so different,” I shuddered, mortified in seeing a teenage version of myself, “what happened to me?”

I was sobbing. She held onto me and rubbed my back.

“You’ve been in a coma for nearly a year, sweetheart,” she said, patting a moist towel to my forehead and cheeks, “you’ve changed a lot. You’re undergoing some changes…but the doctor can explain it all to you, sweetheart.”

It didn’t feel right. In my dream I was older. I remember being older.

“I’m older,” I said, trying to convince her of something I felt in my heart, “I’ve been a mother. I’ve driven a car. I had a boyfriend.”

“Oh sweetie,” she cooed, a hand on my cheek, “you can’t be more than 13 years old. There’s no way you’ve done any of those things.”

“I-I”

“You must have dreamt it all up. You know, they say that people can feel like they’ve lived a whole life if they’ve fallen into a coma,” she sighed, instantly coddling me, “poor thing…you’ve been through so much.”

She looked at me, waiting for my reaction. Internalizing all of my terrified thoughts, I nodded along with her, “but…my father. Y-you say I’ve been out in a coma for a year?”

“You should call him…did you call yet?”

I shook my head. She gave me a soft smile, nodded, and then picked up the rotary phone. I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything that would point to my life. The only thing that came to mind was Reginald Hargreeves. An older gentleman who always wore a suit and had an umbrella. I fell into a trance as I heard the dial click every time she went to dial another number.

“Sweetheart?”

I opened my eyes. The dial stopped clicking. She held out the phone, and I took it. Without another word she walked into the hall and closed the door. The gentle ringing stopped as I put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Reginald Hargreeves.”

“Who is this?”

“Dicere nobis necesse est. Scio quid estis vos.” (We need to talk. I know what you are.)

I heard a sigh, “Ego in Dallas. Credo tibi hospitium est vocant unum per circuitum.” (I am in Dallas. I presume you are the one the hospital has been calling about.)

“Ego filiam tuam, Brianna.” (I am your daughter, Brianna)

I heard a gasp, “tantum scio Brianna –“ (the only Brianna I know)

“Mater tua,” I said cutting him off, “et fui mortuus coram venisti huc ante annos.” (is your mother. And she was dead before you came here years ago.)

“We will speak,” he said, taking a deep inhale, finally in English. I smiled to myself, knowing that was the only way to get his attention. Latin was the key with Reginald, “I will send a car in one hour. Tell them to have your discharge papers ready.”

The line disconnected before I could respond.

I hung the phone up and stood unsteadily on my feet. Walking over to the door, I opened it and went out to the nurse’s station where the kind woman had said that she would be.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I asked. The woman turned around, and my breath caught in my throat.

“What can I do for you sweetheart?” the woman asked, a deep Southern drawl.

“I uh-“ I stuttered.

Something about her looked so familiar.

“Do I know you?”

“Of course you do, sweetie,” the lady laughed, “I’m your physician. But you can call me Doctor Grace.”

“Sir Reginald Hargreeves requests your presence at the car, Miss.”

Grace put an arm around me in a protective manner, “sir, I’m not to release this girl into anyone’s care but her fathers.”

The older gentleman buttoned the middle button of his jacket and nodded, disappearing down the hall. I looked at Grace, who had yet to let go of me. That’s when it all came back to me…why she looked so familiar. Being tucked under her arm, I remembered a time when I was little, and Reginald had made a robotic version of her. It felt like it was another lifetime. But here she was, standing in front of me.

“Mom.”

She laughed, “oh darlin, I’m not nobody’s momma.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, pulling away from her and sitting on the bed, “I just…you look a lot like her…”

“Brianna.”

I turned around and Reginald look like his breath caught in his throat. But he was staring at Grace.

“Mr. Hargreeves?”

He nodded, “I am he.”

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for quite a moment,” she laughed, “we’ve had your daughter listed as Jane Doe for over a year.”

“Boarding school,” he lied quickly, recovering whatever thoughts he tried to have, “she was supposed to be in boarding school in Europe.”

“And no one called to tell you she was missing?”

He shook his head, “no. I suppose I should have a word with them.”

“Well Mr. Hargreeves I’d invest in a different school,” she laughed, “I’ll give ya’ll a few minutes to get caught up…alright?”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off her until she closed the door.

“She’s our mom,” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “at least…you make a robot version of her to raise us.”

“Who are you?” he said, still staring at the door, “You’re not FBI, MI6, or even a Russian…how do you know me?”

“October 1, 1981,” I responded quickly, “That’s the day I, along with 42 other children are born to women who were not pregnant at the beginning of that day. All of us have superpowers. But this really isn’t a conversation we should be having in a public place, lest you want me to get tossed in a loony bin.”

“Abhijat said the doctor wouldn’t let you leave with him.”

“It’s nice to see he’s alive here.”

Reginald raised a brow, “he’s not alive in whatever place you came from?”

I bit my lip, “He dies due to one of the children’s outbursts…”

“What year?”

“1994,” I admitted, “you were going to let him go home to India to retire. Vanya did not take that well and snapped his neck. You make a robot of him too, but he’s nowhere near as popular as mom.”

“We have a lot to discuss, don’t we little one?”

“Only if you care to know it,” I nodded. “If not, you can leave me here…”

“But you know I wouldn’t do that!” he commented, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.

I smiled, “you’re too curious, papa. You wouldn’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re my favorite, aren’t you?”

I nodded, sitting on the bed, “is that curiosity why you really agreed to come today? Or do you have other reasons?”

“You said you knew what I was.”

“Two zippers,” I said slowly as he sat down. I touched each spot as I pointed it out, “one at the crown of the back of your head, and another on your back, right between your shoulder blades.”

The mask didn’t betray his confusion, but the twitch on his lip told me he believed I knew about him, “when?”

“I was six,” I replied, “I never told my siblings about that day. But you were trying to coax me into showing what my full abilities were. They only knew that I can become invisible…but you had a feeling I could do more…I got my full powers at a delayed age, and almost died. You had me in the medical wing of the basement for a month before I came out of my transformation. You showed me what you truly are, and told me that I would always be safe with you…you told me that you wouldn’t force me to be part of the team, nor would you do any experiments on me.”

“Well then, “he began, trying to read me, “if all of this is true, I cannot leave you here. If anyone were to get to you and realize who you are, it could be catastrophic.”

“I know. It’s why I called you first.”

“Invisibility,” he muttered, “did I ever learn about any of your other powers?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, “Dani wouldn’t let me show you. She made me promise.”

“Who is Dani?”

“Dani is my twin sister, Danielle,” I told him, “she had similar powers, none of which she showed you either…you two didn’t like one another. You once told me that she held me back from achieving my true potential…”

“Why are you telling me this sort of thing now then?”

“We jumped back into the past to stop the apocalypse which happens in 2019…at least, that’s the story I think is right” I sighed, “I can’t put together the whole story right off the bat, and there are a lot of blank spaces, but I know that Five sent us back. As far as I know I’m the only one to make it out…and if I’m the only one that made it out alive I need to make sure that we don’t have the same problems…we need to make sure they get fixed before they ever happen.”

“And how do you propose that?”

“I’m going to help you papa,” I smiled, “we’re gonna make a better world for everyone.”

He chuckled softly, and smiled at me, “I know you say we don’t meet one another for another few decades, but I feel as though we are kindred spirits little one.”

“I must have made it back for a reason…and clearly me being able to get in touch with you is one of them.”

He patted my knee and stood up. Then he held his hand out to me, “well little one, we’ve got a lot of work to do then. So let’s get started.”

Chapter 2

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