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lostysworld · 3 years ago

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Only if I could – Kaz Brekker x reader (Part 1)

Masterlist

@acupnoodle ❤

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader

Warning: mention of touch aversion??

Summary: everything is in the request🖤 Getting fed up with quarrels with Kaz, your boss, and looking a him and Inej together, you decide to leave Ketterdam for the better life.

A/N: Flashback is in italics

Grim atmosphere of Kaz's office is hovering above your head or it's just a mirage, you don't know this for sure. While Jesper is twittering nonsense next to your ear, you try to listen to your boss carefully, catching details about upcoming heist.

About a year or so since you've started working with the Crows, this man developed an unhealthy displeasure towards you, and, as it seems, mutually.

Your constant quarrels with each other at the wrong time and harsh hurting words here and there always lead to weeks of tense silence between two of you. He criticized your work, even when it was just brilliant, questioned your methods, when they were like his own.

About a year ago you do not only understand that Brekker didn't like you, but you also, unexpectedly, discovered warm feelings towards the man. Warm unrequited feelings actually. Despite his rude behavior, they didn't vanish, and you turn this attachment into that special twisted kind of childish resentment and jealousy.

Jesper's quiet laughter draws your attention and not only yours. Kaz casts a glance towards you and shakes his head in reprimand. Inej sits next to him, looking exactly the same. She is the second reason why you decided to leave the city. The faster you leave the Crows the better.

Kaz and Inej are almost inseparable, at least the last few weeks. And this is freaking you out. As much as you like Inej and consider her as your sister and close friend, you can't bear looking at two of them together. Every time when Brekker leans closer to the girl to whisper her something, your heart literally stops in your chest. You usually just turn around and leave them alone.

Now you find that it's hard for you to focus on Brekker's words not because of Jesper's chatting next to you, but because of a decision you've made earlier. With every thought about your departure the sound of waves becomes louder in your head.

Not so long ago you decided to leave the Dregs, the Crows and Ketterdam itself. You have no final destination point yet, but maybe a few months of sailing with a trade ship will help to clear your head. You can't just look at that happy couples around you and tolerate such attitude from your boss.

Yes, you will miss people here, exactly the Crows. All of them. They became a family to you in short period of time and you can never forget them. Even when the time to move on came.

– You're all free to go, - Kaz's voice wakes you up, and you raise from your seat. – Except for you, Y/N.

You barely hold an urge to roll your eyes, while he doesn't see it, facing your back. You get yourself ready for another unreasonable reprimand.

– Do you think blue-sky thinking will help you during tomorrow's heist? - he lowers his voice when everyone is out, strict and scolding as usual.

– I didn't-

– I'm not interested in what were you doing, - you grit your teeth on that. You should get used to it, but each time is like the first time. – I need you to do your part of the job, that's it.

– I always do my job, Kaz.

– Should I remind you?

You lower your gaze. He is right and last time Nina almost got hurt, when you got distracted.

– I'm not going to save your neck another time, Y/N-

– Oh, good to know I always have people taking care of me!

The tension between you two is like a live wire. Electric and dreadful. You decide to tell him now. The man will be furious when learns about your departure, but sometimes you just need to rip off the band-aid.

– If you want, you can find another place-

– I am leaving, Kaz.

These words make the young man halt on his place. On a second his face expression shows only confusion, but then it turns into usual cold mask he wears around strangers. You get to notice this short moment.

– Excuse me?

You wave your hand commenting your words.

– I am leaving Ketterdam. After the heist, of course.

Kaz keeps silence during a minute looking at the papers in his hands, and only now you notice him not raising his glance on you, peering blindly into one spot. He is that man who always stares right into your soul and what's happening now?

– Well. You can do this right now.

Now it's your turn to be surprised.

– What? Kaz-

– I don't need a traitor in my team, - Brekker raises his glance on a second and then looks away again. – I will come up with another haist plan by tomorrow's morning. We can handle it without you.

This foul rotten feeling, spreading across your lungs, seems to poison every cell inside of you. You understand pretty clearly that it's your fault only, but Kaz Brekker plays a significant role in all of it with his shitty attitude towards you. You bet that Kaz is unaware how much he hurts people, ones who are close to him.

– May I, at least, get the reason of your escape, Y/N?

– It's not..., - you take a deep breath rubbing you eyes tiredly. Sometimes you wonder how you could tolerate this man for this long. In the end you can't just tell him the truth now. – You wouldn't understand.

– Why? Because I'm not desperate to believe your words like others do?

– Because you don't listen to anyone or anything but yourself, Kaz!

– It's called business.

You exhale and only shake your head with bitter smile. Even now he tries to justify himself.

– Business...One day you will see where this business leads you.

You turn away from him, noticing at the last moment, that the man wants to say something, but head to the entrance of the room anyway. He had plenty of time to say what he wanted, and every time he chose to hurt you instead. Now you are completely done, even if this means to leave the man you love behind.

At least, Inej will always be right next to him.

– Is that all you’re gonna tell me?

You almost don't believe your ears. Kaz rarely wants to talk further when it comes to situations like this one. Now something's changed. Or it's just a chance for you not to avoid telling what you really mean. But Brekker doesn't need to know it.

– What do you want to hear, Kaz? - the man still looks directly into your eyes, waiting for Saints know what. Seems this time you are the only one who will speak. – I am not a traitor, like you called me. And I was loyal to you for all this time, if you didn't notice. I just make the situation easier for everyone.

– By leaving the Crows?

He raises his brow, throwing a set of documents in his hands aside.

– You hate me, Brekker. And it spoils all the job, - he has that unreadable expression on his face, and you go on. – It is better for all the Crows to let me go. It'll be a lot quieter without our conflicts here.

– Conflicts?!

You shrug your shoulders. Any other day Kaz would let you go without a word, and now he is not able to shut himself up. It's quite unusual, you would even say he cares.

– And what was that? Friendly chatting?

– Work issues, - you just raise brows in surprise.

– Work issues, excuse me! Kaz, you..., - despite the light tone of your conversation, not like your usual ones, tears start welling up in your eyes. – We didn't say a good word to each other during this year, Brekker. It's not work issues. You always say such horrible things to me. Every time. Always. Always.

It's not fair even for the bastard like he is, or he just didn't notice it before. But how couldn't he notice his own mean remarks here and there and your reaction?

Brekker's glance is searching for something, darting from your whole figure towards things in his office. The man swallows the lump in his throat, he seems confused, lost, ashamed. Like never seen before.

He looks almost like he is ready to stop you from leaving this spot in the room.

Kaz may say that the Crows is a family, and no one leaves a family without consequences. He may say that everything you have now was given to you by him only. But one exact thought makes him focus on completely other things.

You are leaving because of him. Kaz misses the moment you vanish from his office, staying lost in his own thoughts. All this time he thought you are with Jesper, according to your way of acting with each other. And now you didn't drop a word about him.

Maybe, just maybe, the reason of the departue is not Jesper and your accident quarrel with him. He saw with his own eyes like Fahey and you were cooing like doves while he was talking about the heist. And honestly he was fed up with this scene.

Now, when he tried to know the truth, you didn't mention the boy. Kaz hopes, Jesper has nothing to do with it at all.

Yes, he's fucked up. But he tried to find common points with you every time. With his own twisted methods. And seems, this didn't work as he planned. Backfired even.

You are both stubborn, and it's complicated. And you are now only his to lose. They all are his to lose.

When the door is shut behind your back, he is the only one left in his office. Now he has all his time to himself, and can not spend it on quarreling with you as he used to do every other evening. The silence is pushing against his ears, and he has to say, that he misses your ringing voice. Even when you tell him off.

Kaz buries his hands in hair, massaging his scalp, getting rid of throbbing headache, but the next moment takes off his gloves and throws them to the distant corner of the room. With some kind of disgust he looks down at his hands.

At the same moment he remembers one of the evenings at the beginning of the week, when all of the Crows were celebrating the last successful heist. All of you were on the first floor, at the bar, chatting and laughing. All, except for him.

You and Jesper had your own group with someone from regular customers, who were happy to share your party. But the problem was not in them, but in the way Fahey behaved next to you. You two looked like newlyweds, always close, always together, almost inseparable, the boy didn't leave you on a second and you did the same.

It took Kaz a while to realize, that he was squeezing his cane too much, looking at you and the young gambler. The way you laughed at his jokes, like he leaned closer to you to tell another one.

– Don't want to join us, Kaz?

Inej's quiet voice he could hear even in the loud atmosphere like this one. Brekker casted a glance towards her, and only looked away at the couple again. The couple that didn't notice him, too busy with each other.

– I only want what I can't have, Inej. Unfortunately.

The girl shaked her head and stood right next to him. In this mess of people and alcohol she preferred a spot of peace next to her boss. When she saw the direction he was looking, her usual smirk dropped.

– I would come to her, if I were you.

– But you are not me, Inej, - the man didn't even take his glance off.

– It would be better anyway, then standing here with these puppy eyes.

Brekker changed his target immediately.

– I don't have puppy eyes! - Inej took a step behind to find her way out at the same moment.

– You so do, Kaz.

He watched her smile, but not for long as he switched his attention back. The next second he noticed Y/N looking directly where Inej has stood earlier with a bitter grin. Not realizing that she's being watched, the girl didn't notice Kaz face expression changed.

He furrowed his brows, and his cold mask was almost dropped. Brekker was ready to come up to the girl. But then Jesper distracted her, and, look at her, she's laughing at his stories again, like nothing has happened.

Maybe Inej was right, and he had to come to her, to say that he didn't want to fight with her anymore, that he wanted to make peace and become closer. Like Jesper was.

But he would not be Kaz Brekker, if he did this. So the man remained on his place, at the edge of the bar, watching all of his Crows attentively.

Now Kaz is still watching his palms, his slightly trembling fingers, and quietly swearing. You are leaving the town, leaving him, and he can't do anything. He, Kaz Brekker, can't do anything to change your mind, and all of this is because of him.

His glance is somewhere, where he threw his gloves, looking at them with hatred so strong, they could literally burn out from it. Something in this man changes now, he doesn't know what exactly, but he will learn.

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pan-fangirl-345 · 4 years ago

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He Would Tear the World Apart

Summary: During a raid, you're taken hostage. Shouto doesn't take the news well, and will do anything to get you back.

TW: kidnapping, abuse, alcoholism mentioned, Enji Todoroki's bad parenting, mental torture, dissociating, injuries, blood, angst, mentioned character death (no one actually dies), a lot of swearing, chains, starvation, dehydration, that sort of thing. If there's anything I missed, please let me know! Also, there is a happy ending, so it's angst to fluff!

A/N: First and foremost, I have no medical degree, I have no idea what it's like to dissociate, so anything medically incorrect is because I am not a doctor, though I am currently working on getting my psychology degree. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, that was not the intention. I have no idea what went through my head to make me write all of this in an hour, but here you go. Also, please read the trigger warnings, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Anyway, I might make a part two to this if anyone is interested. Feel free to spam my ask box, or slide into my DM's if you want. Please interact with me, I adore you all.

Aizawa sighed as he stepped into the conference room. He sat down heavily in his usual seat, and Nezu climbed onto his shoulder, as was custom after so many years, despite the situation they were in.

Again.

"As you have all heard, one of the second year students, (Y/N), has been taken. She was last seen on a raid with the hero she was studying under, and we haven't heard anything from her since this transmission."

Nezu pressed play on a recording and her voice floated through the air.

She was panting, and she was whispering, but Aizawa knew that it was her.

"To anyone receiving this transmission, this is hero-in-training Tempest, I'm pursuing the criminals associated with the gang 'The Numerals'. I've been separated from the others and my comms have been compromised by one of the members. Please, send back-up."

There was a pause where all they could hear was her breathing, and suddenly she yelled, "Hey! You, stop!"

There was static, and then there was nothing.

"We have received information from one of our recon teams that they have taken her to their base of operations, though we don't know exactly where that is yet. We have also, as a school, received a ransom demand. Her parents have yet to be contacted about this."

Copies of the notes were handed out to the teachers, and they all frowned, clearly thinking the same thing Aizawa had thought.

They were a school, what kind of school had this kind of money sitting around?

"What is the girl's quirk?"

"She can create different types of storms in her hands," Aizawa supplied. "As of the end of last year, she could make a hurricane for a few minutes at a time, sometimes a dust storm, and I know for a fact that she was undergoing training over the summer, so it might be more than that now. Under extreme duress, she can make a full scale electrical storm in a building or outside, but only if her life is threatened."

"So, not helpful for getting out of this kind of situation?" one of the other teachers chirped and Aizawa nodded.

"No," he agreed. "Though we should be checking for any strange storms and freak electrical spikes."

"Do any of the other students know about this?" Hizashi asked.

"No, and we need to keep it that way," Aizawa told his husband.

"Why?" Vlad King asked.

"(Y/N) is Todoroki Shouto's girlfriend," Aizawa replied, then waited for that to sink in before he continued. "If he finds out that she's gone, or that's she's been kidnapped and harmed . . . ." He shook his head a few times before he added, "He would tear the world apart to get her back."

"Fuck," someone mumbled, and Aizawa nodded.

Pretty much everyone that was at U.A. knew what that girl meant to Shouto, not to mention the people at Endeavor's agency, and the one that (Y/L/N) was working with.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Midnight asked.

"We plan a rescue mission," Nezu said. "We're working with nearly every police force in the country to try and figure out where they're keeping her. We have a rough area," he clicked onto a photo of a map, one area to the far north highlighted in bright red. "But there's nothing we can do until then, we need a warrant and evidence."

"The life of a child isn't enough?" Midnight asked. "Especially such a beautiful girl?"

Everyone went quiet, the mood somber and heavy.

"Aizawa, you spent more time with this girl than anybody," one of the third year teachers said, "how likely is it that she'll find a way out on her own?"

"It's a possibility," Aizawa admitted. "She's a very capable student, on par with Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou, but they know what she can do. Not to mention that sources tell us she was injured, though we aren't sure to what extent. And the longer she spends with them is more time Shouto has to figure out what's happening. Not to mention the other students. We need to get her out as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Hizashi added.

It was no secret that Present Mic and Eraserhead had both taken a liking to you when you were in Class 1-A, all of the teachers liked you, and you were a solid foundation for your classmates.

You were a calm presence, and everyone, Bakugou included, had gone to you for advice at some point, though it was all for different reasons.

You tend to be a level-headed person, but when you felt strongly about something, nothing was going to stop you.

People, Shouto mainly, would start to sense the lack of your presence, and Aizawa wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted you back where you belonged.

"We can't keep him, Shouto I mean, in the dark about this," Hizashi murmured. "He's one of the best up and coming heroes."

"Not to mention," Aizawa added, "that we plan on flooding the streets with her photo. We've already sent it to all of the major hero agencies involved with the search, Endeavor's being one of them. If we don't tell him, his father will, and we all know how volatile that relationship is."

Everyone in the room shuddered at the mention of the father and son duo and nodded.

"Aizawa, All Might, it might be better if you both told him," Nezu said. "You both have the best relationship with him in this room, and you might be the only two that could hold him back if he reacts violently."

"And he will," Aizawa mumbled, already standing from his chair.

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

Shouto knew something was wrong.

He hadn't seen or heard from you in two days, almost three, and the teachers were acting suspicious. There were fewer of them in the halls, and Aizawa was even more tired than usual, with dark worry bags under his eyes that the students hadn't seen since the Bakugou Debacle in their first year.

The last he had heard, you were going on a raid for some gang members that were selling some sort of hallucinogenic drug based off of a mirage quirk.

You hadn't contacted him or come back since.

"Young Shouto, can we speak to you for a moment?" All Might asked, making everyone look up from what they were doing.

Despite the dorms no longer being completely necessary, (the League had backed off a little bit in recent days, and there hadn't been very many Nomu attacks lately), most of Class 1-A, now 2-A, had moved into the dorms for their second year, you and Shouto included.

"Does this have to do with (Y/F/N)?" he asked, standing quickly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Aizawa said, voice somber.

"Todoroki, do you want us to come with you?" Midoriya asked, getting that look on his face.

"If it's about (Y/F/N) then they all deserve to know too," Shouto said. "And I would feel better knowing they were here."

"Of-Of course," All Might replied, glancing at Aizawa nervously.

"(Y/L/N) has been kidnapped and is being held hostage as we speak," he told them, as blunt as ever.

Aizawa ripped his goggles off right before Shouto blew.

One half of his body erupted into blue tinted flames, and the other exploded in a rain of ice, but they evaporated quickly under Aizawa's gaze, and before any damage could be done to the dorms.

Everything went dark in his head, and his feet were moving before he even had a chance to fully process what his former teachers had been saying to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved to intercept him.

"To find her," Shouto snarled, and he didn't even recognize his own voice. It was several octaves lower than normal, and there was a rasp to it that had never been there before. "To get my girlfriend back."

"You don't even know where she is," Aizawa said. "We don't even know where she is. Besides, you're too emotionally involved."

"Too emotionally involved?" Shouto said, his voice too calm, his eyes too dead.

Everyone in the room took a step away from him. Everyone except Midoriya and Bakugou.

"Too emotionally involved?" he repeated.

"Oh shit," someone whispered, though Shouto didn't know who it was.

"That is my girlfriend. That is the love of my life and you're telling me that I can't get her back because . . . I'm too emotionally involved? What about when Midoriya went to get Eri? Was he too 'emotionally involved'?"

No one dared to point out that it was nowhere near the same thing, but there was a collective thought about it in the room.

"That is my fucking girlfriend out there," he snapped. "I will work harder than anyone to get her back. I will be the one person wholly invested in making sure that she stays safe."

"And that is why you can't be one of the people in on this," Aizawa told him. "The others are her friends, but you? You are way more than that, and that means that when it comes down to it, you can't make a clear-headed decision on whether it's worth it to try and grab her or not. Because she'll always be worth it to you."

"Damn right she will," Shouto said, staring Aizawa down.

No one had heard Shouto swear this much at once, if ever, depending on the person. He was starting to sound like Bakugou, and the others knew immediately that if you weren't back soon, he was going to blow.

"Look kid, I understand," Aizawa muttered. "I really do. I understand how you feel, I would do that same thing for Hizashi, but I also know what I would do, and we can't have that in the investigation. What would (Y/F/N) want?"

"She would want to be here!" Shouto shouted. "She would want to be teasing Bakugou in the kitchen, making sure that everyone had a blanket for movie night. She would want to be curled up with me on the couch watching bad romance movies that the girls cheated their way into picking out and making sure that I-!"

Shouto stopped as the emotions got lodged in his throat. Tears threatened to spill over as his vision got blurry, and the others were there to catch him as his knees gave out on him.

"We'll get her back kid," Aizawa assured him, crouching down, touching the top of his head softly. "We will get her back."

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

Your head was buzzing as you came back to consciousness and you suppressed a groan of pain.

Consciousness hurt.

You did a short mental tally of your injuries.

Your ribs were definitely a little bruised, if not cracked or broken. Your lips were split in at least four different places each. One shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the other was hurt in some way. Your left ankle was bruised and swollen, broken probably. Your head probably had a huge gash if the blood running down the side of your face was anything to go by, and you were definitely concussed on some level.

Apparently getting your head slammed into solid concrete by someone who had launched themselves off a ledge would do that to you.

You were in what looked like a basement of some sort. The walls were solid concrete, there were pipes running overhead and dripping on you randomly, which wasn't appreciated, and there was insulation and plaster showing through here and there.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty?"

Your head whipped around to see your kidnapper, but your head protested and so did your stomach, despite the fact that there was nothing in it.

You suppressed a groan, trying to keep your stomach where it belonged.

"Ready to tell us who the informant is?"

"Go straight to hell," you muttered, when you were certain you wouldn't throw up on yourself, glaring at them.

"I still can't believe you were fucking stupid enough to kidnap a child! She doesn't know shit," the other man snapped at the first.

"She has to know something!" the first guy snapped. "She was in on the raid!"

His quirk allowed him to change his voice, so he wasn't using the real one, he sounded like a guy that smoked twenty packs of cigarettes a day.

The other guy you had started calling Sandy in your head. His quirk was similar to yours, he was able to turn anything he touched into sand, and then use it. He mostly made sand storms, and that's how they had gotten the jump on you in the tunnels.

One had blinded you while the other had carried you away, much to chagrin of the Sandy.

"I'm in training," you rasped. "I'm hero-in-training Tempest, from Class 2-A at the school U.A."

They hadn't given you anything to drink in the last two days, from what you could even remember of it, and you knew that you weren't going to last much longer, having been dehydrated when they had taken you.

They had kidnapped you from the raid site, and then spent six hours driving around like morons trying to cover their tracks, before driving for an unknown amount of time before they had dumped you in here. You had been unconscious for the secondary part of the drive, and you knew that with everything going on, there was the possibility you were experiencing retrograde amnesia.

"They don't tell me the important stuff like that. I get told when we're going on raids, and what my part in them is, and that's on the very rare occasion that they happen during my shifts. Most of the time, I'm on patrols around the city," you told them, taking a break in your little speech to spit blood onto the floor by your leg. "You need directions, I'm your girl, but you need to know who's a rat, sorry, I can't help."

You would've shrugged, but your arms were chained to the wall behind you, and every time you moved your right arm it made an awful clicking noise that you knew wasn't natural. Your left shoulder was dislocated as well, meaning your arms were pretty much useless.

One leg was operational, but barely. You were so far out of commission you wouldn't be surprised if U.A. kicked you out to recuperate.

U.A. wouldn't, and couldn't, pay the ransom. You knew that. The best hope you had was that you could act your way out of this, or that they planned a raid to get you out.

They had done it for Bakugou, why not you, right?

Shouto passed through your thoughts, thoughts about what he might do to get you back, but you shut them down as soon as they entered your head.

You were trying to keep him in a safe place.

You hoped that Shouto never learned about this. About where they were keeping you, what they had already done to try and get you to talk.

He was your safe place now, safe and away from this building, wherever you were. You thought maybe if you could keep him out of your head here, it was a way of protecting him from the reality of your situation, even if he already knew.

"She's a kid," Sandy snarled, pointing at you viciously. "She's a kid. You know the Boss' rules about kids and you broke almost every one of them!"

"Yeah, well-"

"Guys, hey, I hate to interrupt," you interjected, "but I really have to go to the bathroom."

They both stared at you for a moment before Sandy asked, "Do you promise to not try and escape?"

"Buddy, I don't know if you've looked recently, but I doubt I'm doing anywhere," you quipped. "My ankle is obviously demolished, my head was cracked open like an egg, thanks to your buddy Darth Vader over there. Not to mention, I'm dehydrated and starving, and don't even get me started on how much my ribs are killing me right now, probably literally. Do I look like I'm in any shape to try and escape?"

Sandy frowned, glancing at you like this was the first time he was seeing the extent of what had been done to you.

"Alright, I'm going to undo the chains, but you can't try to escape, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

"Death seems preferable at this point," you grunted, trying to hide the pain you were in.

"Don't you have healing supplies?"

"How am I supposed to use them when I can't move my fucking arms?" you asked, wiggling your fingers in emphasis. "And you morons confiscated my belt, which had them all in it! You know what my quirk is! What did you think was in it? Explosives? No, I leave that to Dynamight."

"Fuck," Sandy muttered.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" the voice dude asked.

"Because if she dies then that means no money and no chance of surviving prison again. Do you know what happens to people who mess with kids in prison? Nothing good."

You logged that little piece of information away, trying to focus on their features, but with your concussion, your eyes weren't the hottest.

"Can you move?" Sandy asked you as he worked on unlocking your chains.

You couldn't help the cry of pain when your arms dropped to your sides, tearing stinging your eyes as you bit into your already roughed up lip.

"Shit. Can we get a medic in here?" Sandy shouted.

A door opened and someone stuck their head in. Sandy repeated his demand, and the door shut again.

"Why are you doing this?" you whimpered, trying to keep your voice even.

If they were sadists, any fear or pain you showed only gave them what they wanted.

"Because we don't have a choice," Sandy said. "The Boss gave us somewhere to belong, he gave us a place off the streets. We owe him. We would've died."

"Shut up," Smoker snapped, and you glanced at him.

"I have a headache, and it comes and goes as you talk. Please, for the love of all things holy, shut up," you hissed to Darth Vader, wanting to touch your head, but not being able to for multiple reasons.

Sandy touched your shoulder lightly and you cried out again, moving automatically to hit him, but your other arm twinged, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"Sorry," Sandy murmured, pulling his hands away.

You took a shaky breath, waiting for the pain to dull before you said, "There's no way I'm moving from this spot without being in pain, and I'm definitely going to need help."

"Holy fuck, you two morons were two lucky blows away from killing her."

You glanced over to see someone with a med kit strolling leisurely down the stairs.

"Hello Tempest," they said, giving you a bright smile.

"Hello Med Kit," you replied, giving them a grimace.

"You can call me Himo for now," Med Kit said. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

"You're going to whether I want you or not, but sure, go ahead," you muttered. "It's not really like you can make this any worse."

"I could break almost every bone in your body and keep you alive while doing it, so I could do so much worse, but that's not the goal here," Himo told you, setting to work.

"So what is the goal? Since I'm assuming that I'm never going to get out of here," you said, glancing around.

"Why do you think that?" Himo asked, ignoring your first question.

"Because I've seen your faces, I know your quirks, I know a general area of where I'm being kept, unless someone used a teleportation quirk of some sort. I know the school won't pay the ransom, my parents don't have that kind of money, and my boyfriend's father would never pay to see me safe and sound. He would probably twist his son's grief to get him to be compliant," you grumbled. "Besides, I'm a hero, hero-in-training, whatever, it's all semantics. I'm basically your arch-nemesis. Isn't that what every villain wants? To kill the person in their way?"

"We aren't villains," Sandy muttered.

"You break laws put in place to protect people, you attacked a minor, then kidnapped her after assaulting her, and you are trying to get a ransom for me," you pointed out. "That doesn't really scream 'hero' or 'civilian' to me."

"Have you ever though about who writes the rules? About how money can manipulate everything? The system is flawed, and we are going to make sure people know it," Darth Vader snarled. "Do you understand how unfair the world is?"

"Don't talk to me about the world being unfair," you whispered, your voice dropping, every muscle in your body tensing. "My boyfriend loves his mother more than pretty much anyone in the world. Her parents, his grandparents, arranged a quirk marriage, and she had four children she didn't necessarily want. Her husband drove her to near insanity, enough so that she poured a kettle of boiling water over my boyfriend's face because he looks like his father. His father has already managed to get one of his children killed, and he considers the other rejects because they don't have the quirk he wanted them to have. He's a different kind of monster, and he's not in jail.

"My own father verbally and mentally abused me for as long as I can remember. My mother and I were zombies until recently, when I decided I had had enough and my mother finally found the courage and will to leave his sorry ass in the gutters where it belongs. My father always had enough alcohol in his system to make him a human molotov cocktail. I had little to no self esteem until recently, and I still struggle to understand and comprehend that I am worth love. I am still learning to respect myself. So you don't get to preach to me about how unfair the world is buddy, we all know," you snarled.

"The hundreds, thousands of kids out on the street know. The women and men that get raped, and continue to see their own personal monster roam free know. The kids that get hit every day for not being what their parents want know. That's why people like me exist, to put away the monsters wearing human skin. That's why my friends and I try so hard to be heroes. It's not about the glory, or the money. It's about bring people to justice, it's about making sure that people feel safe. It's about giving other people something that we never had."

Silence echoed through the room as what you said sank in.

You hadn't meant to burst like that, but you were sick and tired of these guys using their shitty lives to make other people's lives shitty too.

"Why are you a hero, Tempest?" Himo asked.

"Because I want to save people," you replied. "I just told you that. I want to make sure that every child like me knows that they don't have to be their parents, that there is another option. I don't want the abused becoming the abuser. I want to make sure that the people doing the bad things get put where they belong. I want to help the kids that have nothing to lose, I want to help them realize that they have everything to gain. I want to give people like you hope."

There was no use in lying to them, they were probably going to kill you anyway. Besides, it might help you build rapport, and they might let you go when they realized that they made a mistake.

"People like us?"

"People who think that there isn't another option. People who have been shown nothing but the horrid parts of the world, the horrible parts of humanity. People who don't know what it's like to be loved completely by somebody, both good and bad. People who think that they owe someone who isn't worth one minute of their time. Good people who strayed too far from the path."

There was silence for a few minutes before you said, "I've seen a lot of real villains, people who aren't capable of basic human emotions, I've seen people who have no humanity in their eyes. They are the villains, they are the monster under our beds personified. People like you, you just simply wandered. You aren't lost, you're just further to the side than some other people. It would be easy for you to walk the path again."

You paused, thinking over what you said, then added, "Well, it wouldn't be easy necessarily, but it would be worth it."

"You still have the naivety of a child," Vader snarled.

"Call me what you want, naive, innocent, optimistic, I've heard it all, but in the end, I'm right," you told him.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, at the end of the day, I know that every life I save isn't just one life," you replied. "That young woman I saved, she might have kids some day, or foster a child that needs a loving mother. That child I shoved out of the way might help the suicidal child in his class. Every life I save touches other people's lives. As hard as it is to believe, no one is ever truly alone in the world. Every smile I give to a stranger might make their day, might help them live long enough to find the thing that makes them happy. That's why I'm a hero."

More silence.

Your face heated, but there was something in their faces that told you they had never thought about it that way before.

"So, is there anything you can do to heal me?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Like I said, these guys were two lucky blows away from killing you, I'm surprised that you're still alive, actually, everything considered. Your head will heal on it's own, but there might be a little scar left. However, your ribs might take longer. Three are cracked, and four are bruised. Your ankle might need surgery to get it back to the way it was. It's definitely broken, and there might be small bone particles floating around in there, I'm not entirely sure, my quirk isn't that detailed I'm afraid. Not to mention that, from what I can see, your shoulders just need to be popped back into place. One was dislocated more than the other, but it will hurt."

"Can't hurt worse than the state I'm in now. So what can you do? I'm assuming that taking me to a hospital is out of the question."

"Well, I can treat the cut on your head, relocate your shoulders, and I can see if someone else can take a look at your ankle, but everything else will have to heal on it's own."

"So there isn't much?"

"Nope, we don't have the equipment needed for your ankle here, and, like you said, no hospitals."

"Fucking gre- wait a minute, to you guys still have my belt?" you asked, perking up a little.

"Yeah, it's over here," Sandy said, walking over into the back corner, pulling your med belt out.

"Hand it over. I promise there's nothing too harmful in there. There are some painkillers, but it's just Midol. It's all medical stuff," you said, wincing as Sandy dropped it into your lap.

You opened it, taking out a small device.

"What does that thing even do?" Himo asked, looking at it warily.

"It's not a communicator or anything," you hurried to explain. "I made some friends in the support courses, so I asked if they could make me a device that works like an X-ray would. Himo, take it."

He took from you gently, which you appreciated, and turned it all around, trying to figure out how it worked.

"Alright, see that little button on the top left, yeah, right there. Click that button twice, like hitting the home button of a phone."

Himo did as he was told, and the screen blinked to life.

"Alright, hold the over my hurt ankle, and it should be able to show what's going on. Or," you added, "it'll blow up. Hatsume is kind of unpredictable like that."

Himo's hands tightened on it, but he did what you asked, and was clearly surprised when a detailed X-ray appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit, it worked!" you cheered, grinning.

"You have some very talented friends," Himo told you.

"I know right? She's a little quirky, but she's great at what she does!"

"How are you able to smile right now?" Sandy asked, looking at you with something akin to wonder.

"Don't get me wrong," you started. "I'm fucking terrified, but there's not much I can do in this situation. Besides, from what I can tell, other than the initial assault, you people don't want to hurt me. You want something from me. In this scenario, what I'm guessing, is that you want something from me, so you're going to be nice, and make me want to help you out, or make me feel like I owe you one, and then, when I don't comply, you'll either torture me to try and get what you want until I die, or you'll just kill me right off the bat."

Himo winced, and Sandy twitched.

"You guys really hate the thought of me dying, don't you?" you asked, cocking your head to the side, despite the protect of your brain. "Is this one of those scenarios where kids should be off limits?"

"We may be bad guys, but we have certain priorities," Sandy admitted. "Kids are a sore spot for most of us."

You nodded slightly. "I can see why. You guys said something about being on the streets? I know that sometimes kids band together, that's how they survive. I'm assuming you've lost friends."

"Smart kid," Himo murmured, eyes darting over the X-ray.

"Sometimes they give us profile training," you admitted. "Besides, I've been working on my psychology degree."

"Wicked smart kid," Sandy quipped.

"Alright, so I can set your ankle, there isn't anything wrong with it other than the obvious fact that it's broken," Himo said, handing the device back to you. "Riko, I'm gonna need your help."

"With what?" Sandy asked, looking skeptical.

"Can you hold her legs down? I need to relocate her shoulders before I do anything with her ankle, just because I have a feeling she attacks when she's hurt."

"Good instincts," you muttered.

"I'm a doctor," he confessed, grinning. "You learn a thing or two."

"Sorry about this," Sandy said.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," you told him. "As long as that's all you do I'll considerate your way of trying to make up from everything else."

Sandy snorted, holding your legs just below your knees.

"This is going to hurt," Himo warned.

"I would be surprised if it-"

You clenched your teeth to try and keep your scream in as Himo popped your right arm back into place.

The rest of your body bucked, trying to roll away, but Sandy, Riko, had a firm hold on you.

You panted as the pain started to fade a little in your arm.

"Sorry, I've found it works better when people aren't expecting it," he said.

"Son of a bitch," you gritted out, spitting blood off to the side. "I bit my tongue."

Riko chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, now for the other one," Himo murmured. "I really don't understand how you managed to take this much damage."

"At least I only broke my ankle. My friend Deku has broken both arms, both legs, and both hands before. I think he's broken almost every bone in his body sa-"

Himo popped your other arm back into place and you couldn't stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks at that one, your jaw almost cracking with how hard you clenched it to try and keep the noises in.

"Fucking fuck," you muttered when the pain pulsed into something a little bit more bearable.

"Better?" Himo asked, prodding your shoulders.

"Yeah," you admitted, moving them slowly. You dug around in your med belt, pulling out two pieces of metal and a small bottle.

"What is that for?" Himo asked.

You pushed a button on the metal, and they extended to the required length.

"It's for a splint, or a cast," you told him. "Once you set my ankle, you put the metal on either side, and I can spray this one. It's a special kind of plaster, don't ask me how it works, I have no idea what's in it, but it'll hold until my ankle is fully healed, then it'll fall off on it's own."

"Amazing!"

"Heroes, when the respond to disasters, often have to set up triages until other emergency responders can arrive, so we have to know a little bit about basic medical treatments in emergencies like that. So a lot of us have belts and such to keep medical stuff in. I also keep duct tape and glue in here. You never know when you're gonna need it."

You pulled out some painkillers, popping two in your mouth, taking them dry.

"How?" Vader asked, sounding horrified.

"Hate to break it to you, but when you're a teenage girl, especially one learning to be a hero, when you don't always have time for water, you learn to take pills dry."

"TMI," Vader muttered.

"Hey, jackass, you asked," you told him.

Riko and Himo chuckled.

"Alright. Riko, see if you can get a hold on her, this is gonna hurt like a bitch," Himo warned. "Li, hold her other leg down."

"Don't use my fucking name!" Vader shouted.

"You know, I wouldn't have known that was your real name if you hadn't reacted that way," you told him. "Heroes are also trained to pick up on certain behaviors like that."

Li grumbled, but did as he was asked.

Himo situated himself, then said, "Get ready."

The pain had you blacking out before you knew what happened.

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

"I knew something was wrong," Shouto muttered for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. "I should have gone with her!"

"Dude, it wasn't even your mission," Kaminari told him. "There was nothing you could've done for her."

"Yeah you half-and-half bastard," Bakugou chimed in. "Besides, we're gonna get her back, so shut up and try and think of something useful."

Everyone had leapt into action when it had sunk in that you were in serious danger. It didn't take long, and no one wanted to acknowledge that it was worrisome.

They had split up into teams.

Midoriya, Bakugou, Shouto, Kaminari, and Kirishima were working on the maps that had been given to the students.

Momo, Jirou, Uraraka, Mina, and Tsuyu were going over the interviews with raid members, trying to gather up information on what had happened, trying to see if there was a traitor among them, other than the undercover agent that they had been told about.

Tokoyami, Ojiro, Shoji, Sero, and Koda were helping the other heroes do recon missions and patrols in the area where they suspected you were being held.

Sato, Shinso, Hagaruke, and Iida were working on the case files of all the known members of the gang that you had been going after. Surprisingly, those four were the only ones able to hear about the things that some of the gang members had done.

Hagakure was crying softly to herself as she read, but no one could pull her away from the files.

"I have to know," she kept saying. "I need to know about what they did so I can help when we get her back."

Sato didn't know you as well as the others did, so he was a little less effected. He were itching to get you back, but the others had spent far more time with you personally.

Shinso, on the other hand, was powering through them, wanting to know what he had to avenge when they got to that building. He wanted to know what they might be doing to you so that he could have far more reason to get them arrested.

Iida just wanted something useful to do.

"They just cleared building seven in section 3-C!" Aoyama called from his spot the progress computer that they had set up in the common room.

Aoyama was in charge of letting them know what had been cleared, what was under suspicion, and what they had ruled out completely.

"Fuck, that pretty much clears that grid section," Bakugou muttered, forcefully crossing an abandoned apartment building off his map.

"They might need to expand their net," Midoriya added. "No one knows where she is. There's the possibility that they aren't even in that area."

"I hate this!" Shouto burst out. "I feel useless just sitting here!"

"It's either this or you get stuck back on the sidelines," Bakugou reminded him and he clenched his fists.

He just wanted you back safe and sound by his side, preferably with his arm around your shoulders.

He'd been trying to remember the last thing he said to you before you had gone on that raid, but he couldn't remember.

He hoped that it was 'I love you' or something similar, but not knowing was killing him.

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya said, laying a hand on his arm. "We will get her back."

"Yeah, we aren't giving up on her, no way in hell," Kaminari added, eyes flashing gold in the lights of the common room.

"She never gave up on us, it's not manly for us to give up on her," Kirishima chimed in.

"I know," Shouto said. "I trust you all."

It went unsaid, but understood, that when it came time to get her back, Shouto was going to be the one leading the rescue.

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

A week later, Himo came into the basement and said, "Do you think you can walk?"

"On one leg maybe. Why?" you asked.

Your ankle was wrapped in the cast that you had taken out, but your ankle was feeling a little better than it had been. It still throbbed every once in a while, but it could've been worse.

"The boss wants to see you."

"Oh, the big boss," you griped, rolling your eyes. "He wants to see me he can come down here himself."

Himo hesitated, but he nodded, heading back upstairs.

You had known that there was an undercover agent in the gang, but you had yet to figure out who it was.

Every member of the gang seemed to know that you were there, that, or they were much bigger than you had anticipated.

So far, Himo and Riko were your top two suspicions, given that they were the only two that were actually kind to you, but you had a small part of you that wasn't sure.

The door opening a few minutes later announced the arrival of the leader, and you steeled yourself.

"You fucking morons," the man muttered, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. "What did I say about kids?"

"Sorry Boss, but we didn't have a choice," Li said, stepping out of the shadows.

He had been stay with you for the entire week, and it was clear that you didn't have the kind of rapport with him that you did with Riko and Himo.

You had been trying to make a storm, something, to let the someone know where you were, but you had idea of knowing whether it was working or not. You were in the experimental stages of the large storm capabilities of your quirk, and you were completely drained at the moment.

"What's your name kid?" the man asked.

His hands were covered in rings, and scars littered the little bit of skin his tailored suit showed off.

You had seen Shouto in high class clothes for gatherings that he was required by social convention to attend, so this guy was either rich, or so far into debt that he was on the run from the banks.

"You can call me Tempest," you said.

"(Y/N). Second year at U.A. Class 2-A student, and one of the new public favorites," Li said.

"Aw, you looked me up, how sweet," you taunted. "But like I said, I prefer Tempest, it sounds cooler."

"Far enough," the boss said.

He was wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face, and a fedora type hat, so there wasn't much to catalog, but you did anyway.

"Are you here to kill me?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, despite the way it made the chains rattle.

"No, not if you give me what I want," the man said. His voice was deep, and he looked like he was in his early thirties, but you weren't entirely sure.

"I don't know who your rat is," you stated.

"How do you know that's what I wanted?"

"When I woke up on day two, your Sandy man and Darth Vader over there were talking about it. Vader actually asked me about it." You paused, then said, "You guys do realize that I'm right under an intern right? I'm not high enough to know about UC's. Think of me like the intern's intern. I'm lucky I even got to go on the raid."

The man watched your for a moment before he said, "I hate it when people tell me the truth. It means I don't get to have any fun."

"Sucks to be you then," you replied. "So what happens now?"

"You get broken," the man said, reaching out to touch your forehead.

"Good luck with that," you muttered when he pulled away.

Then the visions started.

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

"Everybody get up!" Aoyama shouted. "Up, up, up! Someone called in a noise complaint late last night!"

Class 2-A poured into the common room.

Shouto, Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero ran in with no shirts on, and Kaminari fell trying to pull his shorts up over his Pikachu boxers. Shinso was already in there sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee clad in a t-shirt with a cat meme and dark jeans.

The girls poured in in a mix of pajamas and hoodies that they had stolen from the boys over the last week, their hair a mess and dark bags under their eyes.

"What's going on?" Shouto asked. He knew that his bags were darker than anyone's, and no one had seen him sleep in almost three days.

"Late last night someone called the tip line anonymously to complain about screaming from a condemned building smack dab in the middle of section 1-A. Someone checked into it and there has been a lot of activity in that area lately," Aoyama explained.

He had given up trying to keep up the sparkly attitude, though some of the French had stayed.

"Is there anything else?"

"Guess which gang has been operating in the middle of that area?" Shinso said, having stayed up with the sparkly blond.

"The Numerals," Shouto said.

"Tres bein!" Aoyama replied.

"Have the heroes been notified?"

"They started a conference at three this morning," Shinso said.

"And no one told us?" Shouto asked.

"They wanted to let us sleep. They know how hard we've been working," Shinso replied.

"I'll sleep when we get her back," Shouto snapped, heading for the conference room.

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

Aizawa shouldn't have been surprised when his former students streamed into the meeting that was being held to rescue (Y/L/N), but he was.

Though that might have been because most of the boys were shirtless and the girls were clad in their pajamas, and hoodies that were clearly not theirs.

"Catch us up," Shouto demanded.

"Shouto, what are you-"

"Shouto, you are aware that this is merely to scope out the building, correct?" Aizawa interrupted, glancing at his former class.

"We don't fucking care," Bakugou snarled. "You're going to catch us up, and you're going to let us join, because she's our friend, and we're the strongest team that you could ask for."

"We can't, in good conscience, let kids into-"

"Do we need to mention all the times that the League has attacked us in the last year? Not to mention Gentle Criminal, Stain, the whole Chisaki ordeal, should we go on?" Midoriya asked, frowning.

Endeavor went to talk again but more students started to talk.

"We can help," Kirishima chimed in. "We want to help."

"Besides," Kaminari added before any of the adults could chime in, "the more hands you have the better it'll be. We can capture more members and get her back. It's a win-win scenario. Gangs are known to be disorganized. If you can get word to your informant about a stealth mission, you might be able to get both them and (Y/L/N) out with minimal risk to them both."

"And we have useful quirks," Jirou supplied. "Kaminari can kill any power they have, Bakugou and Midoriya are good for taking stuff down, so are Kirishima and Sato. Todoroki is more than capable of restraining anyone that he comes across, and I can tell you where people are, how many and so on."

"Not to mention I can make communicators that are much harder to disconnect," Momo piped up.

"People don't really know about me yet," Shinso said, hands in his jeans pockets. "They don't know my quirk, so they're much more likely to fall for me, which is more than helpful for you, since it makes fighting back much less likely."

"We want to get her back, me more than anyone," Shouto said, arms crossed over his chest. "We can useful. Besides, I don't think I need to mention all the times that we've stepped in without your permission and gotten the objective completed while keeping everything legal."

Aizawa sighed.

"We really should just let them help," he said. "They're going to keep pushing, and I don't want any of them expelled and arrested. They are some of the best up and coming heroes. Besides, they all make good points."

"I feel the need to point out," Midoriya chimed in, "that the more of us you take, the more heroes you can have causing a distraction, or the more you can release to recharge and work on other things that are starting to take precedent, like the drug that the gang is manufacturing and selling."

There were more whispers, and finally the heroes sighed.

"Alright, but you're working with Eraserhead and Endeavor, since they're going to be leading the mission with Fatgum."

"We can work with that," Bakugou said. "But we want permission to engage if necessary."

"You would have that anyway," Fatgum said.

"We also want credit if we find her," Sero added. "We aren't going to let possible attackers think that we're defenseless. They take on one of us, they take on all of us."

"That can be discussed," Present Mic assured them.

"This should go without saying," Shouto began, "that I get to ride with her in the ambulance when we find her."

"Everyone assumed that anyway," Midnight told him. "Don't worry Todoroki, no one is going to keep you away from her."

Endeavor opened his mouth, but sharp looks from everyone had him shutting it again.

The students nodded.

"Now catch us up," Bakugou demanded.

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

You couldn't remember when you had stopped processing things the proper way.

You couldn't remember a time before the nightmares.

They talked to you, they wanted you to know about an informant. Sometimes Shouto appeared, smiling and reaching his hands out to you. Sometimes your father walked in, drunk as always, shouting at you to do better.

You retreated in on yourself.

You turned to that small part of your brain that you had made to wait out the fighting, the yelling, the hurt. You retreated into the part of yourself that you knew no one could ever enter but you.

Shouto was there like he always was. He wasn't entirely your Shouto, but he wasn't the nightmare either.

He was a figment of your imagination, but he made things a little bit better.

"I'll come," he assured you. "I'll find you."

You were lying in a meadow, a small clearing surrounded by trees that were bent over you to create a small dome of shade.

"I know you will," you told him, reaching your hand out to him.

He touched his fingers to yours, but you couldn't feel it.

You remembered someone in the past calling it dissociating, but you weren't a professional yet.

You had never done it at U.A. since you had never felt the need, but this wasn't something that you would ever be able to forget how to do.

You could still see the nightmares, but it was like it was far away, background noise.

"Do you think that you'll ever go back?" Shouto asked. "Do you think that you'll ever go back to me?"

"Maybe, if the nightmares ever stop. If I think that it's actually you that I'm going back to," you said, watching him carefully.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" Shouto inquired.

"Yeah. I said, 'I'll always come back to you'. Why are you asking me that?"

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said, 'Promise me you'll be safe?' I was about to go on the raid, and you were upset about not being able to go with me."

"Do you promise to remember that?" Shouto asked.

"Yeah, I promise," you told him, smiling a little.

"(Y/F/N)! Oh, darling, what did they do to you? (Y/F/N), can you hear me?"

The nightmare was getting better at looking like the real Shouto, and this one had the same voice.

"Go to him," the dream Shouto said, sitting up.

"Why?"

"(Y/F/N), blink if you can hear me," Shouto demanded.

You forced yourself to blink.

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

Shouto couldn't describe to absolute relief it was to see you blink.

He had seen the discarded cast off to the side of you, and he wasn't sure whether you would be able to hear him in that state.

"Hey darling, come on, we're gonna get you out of here, I promise," he murmured, touching your face lightly.

"Sh-Shouto," you rasped. "Shouto, wh-what was the last thing that you said to me?"

"Darling, don't try to speak," he told you, trying to figure out how to cut through the chains without hurting you.

"Shouto, what was the last thing that you said to me?" you asked again, reaching up to grab his hand.

"'Do you promise me that you'll be safe?'" he said, eyes roving over you to try and see any wounds. "That's what I said to you."

Your eyes widened in surprise before tears slipped out of your eyes.

"Sho, it really is you!"

"Darling, hey," he murmured, touching your face softly.

You were sobbing now, fully body sobs, and Shouto wanted so badly to take a moment to just relish in the fact that you were safe, but he had to get you out of there as soon as possilbe.

"Tsukuyomi," Shouto called. "Can Dark Shadow cut through chains?"

"Yes."

"I'm on the basement level of the building. I have Tempest, can you meet us down here?"

"On our way," Tokoyami assured him.

"Guys, I have her, she's in the basement with me, we're getting her out as we speak," Shouto declared over the coms, and he was met with cheers and relief that you were okay.

"How many of you are here?" you asked, wiping at your face.

"The whole class is here," Shouto told you. "Most of the hero agencies sent representatives that are here too."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, people were really upset that you were taken, especially with the role you played in apprehending Numeral gang members on the last raid, and the part you played in bringing the drug to light."

"Wow," you murmured, making Shouto laugh.

"Hold on just a little bit longer darling," he coaxed. "Our friends are on the way."

"I can't believe that it's really you," you whispered, touching his face softly, rubbing your thumb over his scar the way you did.

"Oh darling, what did they do to you?" he asked.

"For the past couple of days they've been trying to break me, they want to know who the undercover agent is. I don't know who it is though, so the leader of the Numerals used his quirk on me. He makes the drugs. His quirk makes you see things, makes you feel things. It's like he can burrow into your head and take the images out of your head."

You shuddered in his arms and he frowned as Tokoyami appeared in the doorway.

"Hello (Y/L/N)," he said, smiling at you.

"Hey little bird," you replied, your smile watery with emotions.

"Can Dark Shadow get through those chains?"

"Of course," Tokoyami told Shouto.

"Hello starlight," Dark Shadow said.

"Hi Dark Shadow," you murmured, stroking the sentinent creature before he tore through the chains like paper mache.

You rubbed at your wrists for a moment before you threw your arms around Shouto, burying your face in his neck.

"Sho," you sobbed, tears back full force.

"I've got you darling," he murmured. "I've got you. You're free, you're free."

You nodded, arms tight around him.

Shouto scooped you up, cradling you against his chest, letting you sob as much as you needed to.

The paramedics that had been called to the scene hadn't managed to get Shouto to let go of you, and you showed no signs of letting go of him, so they had managed to do everything they needed to with you clinging to him.

"She'll need physical therapy, not to mention professional trauma therapy. She's malnourished and dehydrated, not to mention suffering from exhaustion and a very severe concussion. Her ankle needs to be further inspected, and there's some internal damage, some cracked ribs that might need to be taken care of, but we can do some more thorough work at the hospital. I assume that you're coming with her?" the paramedic asked when he was finished.

"Yes, I'm her boyfriend," Shouto said.

"Alright, well, you have to let go of her so that we can get her hooked up to an IV and make sure that we don't make her concussion any worse. You really shouldn't have moved her, but there's only so much we can do about that now," the other paramedic told him.

"I-It's okay Shouto," you murmured, pulling away from him enough to wipe your face off.

Your breathing was ragged, and you looked like you wanted to go back to being unconscious, but you allowed the paramedics to get you onto an IV and a bed with a neck supporter.

"Shouto, will you stay with me?" you asked.

"Always darling," Shouto said, gripping your hand.

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

Forthree weeks afterwards, you were stuck in the hospital. Your ankle hadn't been as bad as it had been feared, you back on your feet in a week, and you were undergoing physical therapy.

You were back to a normal diet, and you were going to therapy three times a week. Well, the shrink came to you, but semantics.

Your class visited every day, bringing you your homework and recorded lessons, most of them crying, and more than elated that you were back, safe.

Shouto, after being given permission by your parents, was being counted as a family member, and he had been practically living in the hospital with you.

For the first week, he had refused to leave your hospital room. He had slept curled around you, despite the machines that you had been hooked up to, he had missed class, staying with you and keeping you company.

There was also the reason of him being the only one to be able to calm you down after a nightmare.

There were nightmares where you woke up sweaty and nervous, asking the nurse on the night shift to light the candles that were all around your room.

But there were some that had you hurtling to the small bathroom in your room, hurling the contents of your stomach up. Then there were the ones that got so bad that you locked yourself in the bathroom, hiding yourself away in a corner until someone noticed and got a hold of Shouto.

They were getting better, and you were getting better about people coming up behind you, the touching.

For a few days after being admitted to the hospital, the only person who could touch you was Shouto.

Your mother had been heart broken every time you flinched away from her touches.

Your father had only come once, and he had been carried out by hospital staff after Shouto had tossed him out of your room.

You had retreated into yourself after that, and had come clean to Shouto about some of what had happened while you were being held hostage.

The therapy was helping, and so was the massive support that you were getting from the public and other heroes that had been in similar situations.

Your friends were very understanding of you not touching them as much anymore, and you and Bakugou were closer than ever, since he had experienced something similar.

Today was your first day back in the dorms, and you weren't going to lie to yourself, you were nervous.

The class had slowly starting moving all the gifts that you were receiving into your room, so you were only carrying a small bag.

"Shouto," you began. "You know that you can walk away if I get to be too much right?"

It had been bothering you for a while, that he had stayed with you for so long. It had bothered you that he had given up so much of his time for you, while getting very little from you in return.

"Why would I do that?" Shouto asked cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"I just mean that . . . well, I know that I haven't been the easiest girlfriend to have recently, and I . . . I have more issues than when we first started dating, and things have changed. I'm way more high maintenance than I was. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted a different girl-"

"Stop it right there," he demanded, turning to you.

His eyes were hard, despite his soft tone of voice.

"(Y/F/N), I don't want anyone other than you," he said. "I don't care if you wake me up at three in the morning screaming. I don't care if you sometimes have days where you feel like you can't say anything to me. I don't care if you have days where you can't get out of bed. I love you. I love you more than anything, and those things are not going to stop me from loving you.

"You are one of the strongest women in my life, and I am not letting you go because you have some issues. We've all got issues, hell, I have issues we haven't even touched on. Those things are just another part of you that I get to love. Alright?"

You nodded, blinking back tears.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" you asked softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He waited for a moment before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You weren't entirely sure why touch was such a problem for you now. Other than the injuries you had received during the fight, nothing had happened to you that would explain it, nothing you could remember anyway.

There had been some retrograde amnesia that went along with your kidnapping, though the doctors had assured you that those memories would come back with enough time.

And they had. There were still a few blank spots, but there weren't nearly as many as there had been.

"All the right things," he murmured, kissing your forehead hesitantly.

"I love you too Shouto," you told him.

He smiled softly at you, then turned towards the doors.

They opened, revealing your friends and a huge banner with your characterized face on it.

"Surprise!" they all said, though they didn't yell it like you had thought they would.

"Welcome home (Y/F/N)," Shouto said, sliding his arm around your shoulders as you both walked out.

Yeah, this was home.

#shouto fluff #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroko shouto x reader #todoroki fluff #shouto angst #angst to fluff #todoroki angst #i have no idea where this came from #honestly #what went on inside my head to make this thing?

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kittymsmithwritesstuff · 3 years ago

Note

What instruments do you think the legends would play?

Ho boy -

Bloodhound: In line with old Icelandic and Norse instruments, possibly a lyre of some kind. Probably tried out guitar when they started interacting with the modern world more but never really got into it.

Gibraltar: Canonly plays the uke and honestly that’s just his vibe yo. Dude likes to chill. Also probably didn’t wanna bother learning anything more complex. Proooobably slacked off on music lessons in school.

Lifeline: In line with having a higher education, piano and harp. She’s pretty damn good at but prefers the piano; she was in lessons from toddlerhood all the way up until she left home at 19. She avoids both in favor of the drums.

Pathfinder: Tesla coils that he codes to play hot cross buns. Mirage will sometimes mess with his Tesla coils, so they play the Death March from Star Wars.

Wraith: Honestly, don’t think she can play any. Not her priority. Can whistle a fine tune and knows several, though she has no idea when or where she picked this skill up. She likes to imagine she was some kind of whistle aficionado in the 3rd grade. Seems like something a kid would do.

Bangalore: Also piano, her Nana taught her because “Lord forbid a girl don’t know how to play an instrument”. Bangalore never really understood what Nana meant by that, since she said the same thing about all her brothers. Unlike Lifeline, Bangalore actually really enjoys playing when she can and usually subs in when the piano player at her church is out. Also can pluck a guitar a little bit from what Jackson taught her, but after he went missing she couldn’t bring herself to learn any more, or play. He’d be really disappointed, but she tries not to think about it.

Caustic: He’s a clarinet hoe. His mom thought it would help him socialize. All it taught him was that he hated the clarinet. And the guy who played the triangle because he never hit it on time. Fuck, he hated that guy.

Mirage: Literally just Inchworm on the piano. He filled up all his brain space with engineering stuff, cocktail recipes and his own top 10 Apex plays.

Octane: The only thing he had the attention span and want to learn was the jaw harp, ‘cause it was one of the weirdest things he could think of at the time. He was also motivated because it pissed off his dad and wives number 3-5. 6 was actually pretty chill with it. He does technically know how to play the piano and violin through lessons he was forced into, but he’s elected to forget everything. Would probably shred an electric guitar if he got interested enough to learn it because he, as a rule, is actually really good/smart about things he cares about.

Wattson: She’s the one that showed Path you could make music with Tesla coils. She likes to use them to recreate classical pieces. She found if she puts on her suit and stands between two of them, she can make her own music. This freaked Wraith the fuck out the first time she showed her, even though she knew she’d be okay.

Crypto: He can’t play any actual instruments, but he can use one of those music creation programs to make beats or arrange instruments as if he had an orchestra to control. Dude couldn’t have really afforded an instrument or lessons growing up by my guess, but he had some kind of access to a computer, and if anything, he could have pirated the program, so that’s why he probably can’t play anything outside of it. Started playing with classical music more when he and Wattson became friends.

Revenant: As a human? Probably nothing. As a Sim? One time he took two femurs to a guy’s ribcage and managed a decent rendition of hot cross buns.

Loba: Once she got to the point where she blended into high society instead of just trying to hide within it, she got herself piano, flute and violin lessons. Piano is a pretty standard instrument in the homes and event halls of the rich, and she frequently uses it to impress high profile guests. Violin is equally respectable and easily portable. She learned the flute as an extra “in case” instrument, one that is still acceptable, but a little more unexpected and unique for clients that might appreciate that. In short, it’s all about strategy for her.

Rampart: She can play happy birthday with armpit farts. (She has been banned from doing this at parties. Except for Octane’s, he encourages it). She also is like those guys that play things like jingle bells by shooting different metal disks in bumfuck nowhere. I love her.

Mary: Pan flute. She learned it for DND as a young teenager. Has dressed up as a woodland elf for Halloween multiple times. Will play funny tunes at seemingly inappropriate times as a way to cheer people up; it almost always works.

Fuse: We know that dude shreds the electric guitar 100 percent. Plays exclusively old fucker music. A favorite at parties.

Valkyrie: Never bothered to learn, can play literally nothing. She can keep a beat just fine and dance pretty well, but she had other things to dedicate her time to and neither of her parents were musically inclined.

Seer: He’s one of those people that can just pick up an instrument and play it; all the traditional ones, some less mainstream like the oboe or something. Had done jaw harp duets with Octane. A virtuoso. Would probably be able to play even more instruments than he already can if he stopped playing so much pinball in his spare time.

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icollectyoursins · 4 years ago

Text

Demon!Jotaro x reader x Demon!Rohan

Anon asked “!!! It's monster fucker hours bay-beeeee!! May I perhaps request a Spicy Demon Rohan and Jotaro double team?? Pretty please with a cherry on top???”

Yeah I... I honestly don't know what happened in this one. Uh... Breeding but... Kinda weird? I dunno, demons are strange and I was a little tipsy when I wrote this! Readers' pronouns are they/them, but they have a vagina.

You were walking home, just minding your business when two men (one who was an overly flirtatious asshole and the other was... just an asshole) approached you, asking if you were interested in a little fun for a small price. You haven't discussed the price yet, but who cares, honestly. They're hot and you're horny.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Ass eating, tied up, breeding, aphrodisiacs? A liquid that enhances the feeling, anal, double penetration, sloppy seconds, light self-degradation at the end from Rohan. What can I say? He's a freak.

Word Count: 1641

Teasing Euphoria

The tall, cold man you had met on the road (who you learned was named Jotaro) sat in the hotel room chair, one leg crossed over the other with his cheek resting on his hand. The other man you had met (Rohan) was behind you, currently eating your ass out with fervor. You moaned at the thick tongue slipping into your plucker, pushing back into him. He pulled away, choosing to smack your ass before walking over to Jotaro and placing kiss on his cheek.

Jotaro closed his eyes, hiding hid disgust then opened them again as the other one whispered something in his ear, grinning wildly. His eyes landed directly on you. The stare was intense, though not demeaning like Rohan's. Bright blue eyes drifted over your body, drinking you in. You were tied down with a ball gag in your mouth, silently pleading with him to do something. While sex had never been his strong suit, there was something about you that he couldn't deny.

He walked over to you while Rohan closed the blinds, making sure everything was protected from the view of other people. It wasn't that they minded an audience, they just weren't quite so sure people would accept their true forms. The smaller one was the first to let go of his glamour, running his hands delicately through his hair as small, deep green horns started to protrude from his forehead. His eyes misted over to a stark white and the rest of his body seemed to shift until he was tinted green, shoulders, cheeks and elbows being darker than the rest of his body.

As Jotaro approached you, he did the same, dropping his clothes with the mirage. His body wasn't the same colour and his horns were long, but he was no less stunning. Black shoulders freckled into pale skin. His eyes matched, but there was something about them that left you hypnotized by them. A long, clawed finger traced a wet stain from where you had cried after what felt like hours of teasing and denial from Rohan.

"We will allow you to cum and please us," he said, voice ruling through your nervous system.

"If they can handle us," Rohan chimed in, strutting over to his place at your backside. Jotaro shot him a look, then continued.

"There is one request we ask of you. You will be let go if you say no, but you need to say so now. I doubt we'll be able to stop once we get started." The green one kneaded his talons into your ass, spreading your cheeks before letting go, smacking you again. You looked to Jotaro, giving him your best 'please fuck me' face you could muster. He continued, carefully watching your reaction. "Let us breed you." He grabbed your cheeks, pulling you close to his face. "Let us fill you with our spawn, birth it, be the start of a new generation. This is your only chance to say no, there's no turning back after this."

You moaned as his grip travelled to your neck, squeezing it lightly. You nodded. Yes, you'll do anything, just fuck your ass, fill you. Jotaro neglected to tell you that it wouldn't matter where they came in you, it would travel to your womb or the equivalent of, assuring your pregnancy regardless. Though, cumming directly into your womb would be preferable. If you didn't have the assets, they would make do. He nodded to his partner who eagerly stuck his fingers in your ass, spreading you open.

Your eyes shot open widely at the feeling, dexterous fingers scissoring you. Meanwhile, the view in front of you was getting more interesting by the second. Jotaro grabbed his length, slowly jerking himself off to the sight of you. He was going to be the first to cum in you whether Rohan liked it or not. He knew that the other demon could be greedy, but there was nothing that could stop him from filling you up over and over again.

You keened as a third finger was added, then a fourth. A warm, tingling liquid was dripped onto your hole that made the sensation much more intense. Soon, you were reduced to a mess of drool and muffled words as Rohan gradually began fisting you. You were going to need all the help you could get when Jotaro fucked you and he was feeling generous. You were going to be the start of a new breed, after all.

You were so close to your release already, mind fogged with wanton. With a clever twist of his fist, you were sent over the edge, cumming wildly onto the floor. The one behind you chuckled while the other grabbed a bottle. He removed your ball gag, lifting your chin up. Your half-lidded eyes and open mouth begged him to touch you more.

He caved, taking a small sip from the bottle then kissing you, making you swallow what was in his mouth. The liquid was so sweet, like your favourite candy. Then came something you can only describe as fuck-me brain rot. Every small touch on your body was like fire or electricity, sending signals straight to your brain that just demanded a thorough fucking.

Jotaro swapped places with Rohan, linking himself up with your entrance, sliding his tip between your gaping hole. He slowly pushed in, pressing down on your back to keep you still. You swear, it was the best feeling ever, letting out a loud scream/moan. He stopped, checking on your breathing. Rohan laughed cruelly.

"He's not done yet." You looked up at him in shock. "You still have so much more to go, take some deep breaths. If you can." He added, shoving his cock into your lips. Jotaro began to push again, in sync with Rohan who slid deeper into your mouth. The two stopped again as the one in front of you tangled his hand into your hair. "Halfway there."

Halfway? What?! How was there more. You already felt as though your bowels were full, stretched to their limit in every direction. They started again and Rohan began thrusting into your throat when he ran out of length. Jotaro kept going, the state of euphoria kept high by whatever liquid they gave you. You looked up to the green one eagerly taking as much of his cock as you could, creating a vacuum with your tongue and lips. His head tossed back, letting out a moan. He mumbled something about you being good at this or built for it, you weren't quite sure. Finally, the darker one bottomed out as your eyes rolled back in your head. A large, warm arm wrapped around you as two smaller one undid the ropes holding you down.

You were lifted up with ease allowing the cock inside of you to rub up against your walls tantalizingly while another was shifted below you. Rohan grabbed your thighs, acing them on either side of his body, straddling his body which was now lying beneath you. Without wasting another minute, he lined himself up with your wet entrance, slipping between your folds with ease and up into your tight canal. The three of you groaned as the two cocks bumped against each other, rubbing together. If it hadn't been for the liquid, you'd be in pain right now, but all you could feel was bliss.

Jotaro moved first, slowly gyrating his hits into you with shallow movements. It quickly became apparent that you wouldn't last long like this, your second orgasm quickly approaching. Rohan lifted a clawed thumb to your lip, pushing down so he could slip it in. You barely heard his order to suck. Even if he hadn't said anything, you're fairly sure you would have anyway. You were so desperate for him, for them; for anything.

Soon, the other started moving, timing his thrusts with Jotaro's which only made you scream more. A second orgasm wracked through you, though you were too blissed out to care, too caught up in the feeling of two delightful cocks pumping in and out of you. The one behind you began to groan more loudly, thrusts getting a little less structured. He shot a look to Rohan who, much to your dismay, pulled out. It wasn't long before it was full again but with Jotaro this time.

He pushed you over into the other's arms, picking up the pace on your not so stretched out pussy. Your tongue rolled out your mouth, eyes rolling back once again as he hit every sweet spot inside of you. His groans and breathing became louder as he got closer until finally-

"Fuuuuuck," he growled you, burying himself deep inside you. Your pussy milked his cock, seemingly sucking in every drop of his hot seed. He was still hard when he pulled out. He could get used to this. In a brief moment of cruelty, he slipped himself into your ass again, leaving Rohan to do his own work on your poor cunt. The latter quickly filled you again, setting a quick and brutal pace for himself. His claws dug into your back as he moaned in you ear. Jotaro matched the pace, knowing that even if you did feel it, you'd love it too much to say anything.

Soon enough, the two were cumming again in their respective holes. Rohan felt some kind of sick pleasure at feeling your cunt loosely spasm around him in an attempt to find your own release, but you were too stretched out from Jotaro that you could find no purchase. As degrading as it was to know his cock was too small to get you off, he loved it.

You flopped over to bed, clearly out of it. One of them brought the drink to your lips again, this time taking their places beside you, too lazy to move your limbs at this point.

"Oh, darling. We're only getting started."

"We're not letting you go until you're leaving a trail behind you or we decide to take you back with us." You couldn't tell who said what, but you didn't care. Call it fate or destiny, but there was something about being a cock sleeve for demons that had you more turned on than anything else in this encounter.

#can you tell which kink is my favourite yet?#its breeding #i was actually really struggling with this and then i had a few drinks and now its just flowing out of me at 1 in the morning. amazing #kishibe rohan not sfw #rohan kishibe not sfw #kishibe rohan n/s/f/w #rohan kishibe n/s/f/w #jotaro kujo not sfw #jotaro kujo n/s/f/w #demon!jotaro #demon!rohan #rohan x reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro prompts #rohan prompts #monster prompts #demon prompts #not sfw

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98prilla · 5 years ago

Text

Saving Face

Inspired by This Video by hotvanilla on youtube. Such good animations, check them out, they have quite a few Sanders Sides animations and they’re all so awesome!

Deceit has a mild breakdown. The other sides help.

AO3

...

He’s in the kitchen, when it starts. He’s washing up the dishes from the night before, because it was a movie night, and everyone passed out before cleaning anything up. He doesn’t mind cleaning. Finds it a bit soothing, actually, gives his hands something to do while his mind wanders.

His face burns, suddenly, a spasm of pain, and he drops the bowl he was holding into the sink, hand flying to his mouth at his reflection. The scales are gone, his face a mirror of Remus’s, unruly hair, electric green eyes, perfectly applied messy makeup.

It stays just for a moment, before he grips the counter, another spasm wracking his frame, this time shifting all of him, he can tell from the outfit it’s Virgil this time, and he shakes his head.

They’re healing, they all are, but he knows Virgil will still freak if he sees him impersonating him, never mind the fact that he isn’t trying to impersonate anyone at the moment. He hisses in a breath, forcing himself to change back, change back, and he does, though it sends a shooting sharp zing up his spine.

“Um, Dee? You ok?” His head shoots up at the voice, forcing a smile to his face, forcing his mounting fear back as he can feel another change coming.

“Yes. Fine and dandy. Just finished the dishes.” He sweeps past Patton, letting his smile drop as soon as he’s passed Patton and turned down the hall, staggering against the wall as he is nearly knocked off his feet, the sharpness like a punch to his stomach, rattling his bones. Roman this time, it seems, and he clenches his fists, trying to breathe.

His gloves flicker in and out of existence for a moment, before they settle into reality, his outfit changing to his own, his face burning as it settles on Patton. It’s coming faster now, and he can’t stop it, and he doesn’t know what is happening.

His door seems like a distant mirage through the staggering pain that shatters in his skull each time his form flickers, he’s lost count of the changes, can’t keep track of the flickers he catches out of the corners of his eyes, here a green sash, there black dress pants, now a katana at his hip, now a hood pulled over his head, scales and blue eyes, green eyes and yellow gloves, red sash and black painted nails as he barely manages to shoulder his door open, stumbling across the room to his mirror.

He’s clutching at his hair, as it changes again and again, his own face unrecognizable, and it hurts, and he just wants it to stop because he’s not even sure who he is anymore, this amalgamation of the other’s traits melding and mixing and breaking and shifting and his reflection is dizzying to look at.

Then glass shatters, is sent flying across the room, and he belatedly realizes he has a new cut across his unscaled cheek, and for a moment, he’s himself again, eyes wide and afraid, the freckles across the bridge of his nose showing, with how pale his face is right now, and he stumbles back, broken glass crunching under his feet.

He lets out a soft cry of pain as he drops to the floor, heedless of the glass, face buried in his hands, too long bangs that aren’t his hiding his face, and he feels himself glitching, cracking, breaking, he is sure the cracks in the mirror are etched into his skin, sure that the slightest breeze will blow him apart, send him scattering across the floor.

It is too much, he doesn’t know why now, it is all hitting him, why now, it is all too much, when he’s had his entire existence to deal with every issue that he’s ever shoved back behind his walls, but suddenly those walls aren’t high enough and he’s drowning and he doesn’t know who he is anymore.

His gaze shoots up as he hears the door open, scrambling backwards against the wall, breathe catching in his throat, before another spasm rocks him to his core, and he flinches back so hard his head cracks against the wall, tears springing to his eyes, and he can’t find it in him to open them and see what he has become this time, he can’t stand to see the looks on their faces.

He is just starting to fit in, just starting to be accepted, just started having fun and being involved and not being purely maligned. And now, now this, now he looks like the monster Roman had once thought him to be, and he bites his lip hard as he curls forward, sickening nausea forcing his eyes open, his reflection staring at him from glass shards, a thousand different colored eyes staring back at him, and he doesn’t know which ones are his, if any of them have ever been his, he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to look like, he never has, he’s forgotten his own face.

“Dee.” A light touch rests on his shoulder, the voice low and soft, trying not to startle him. “what do you need?” Logan, he’s looking up at Logan, or is Logan looking at him? He doesn’t know, he can’t tell, he just shakes his head.

“I don’t… I don’t know.” He gasps out, trying to stifle the changes, hands fisting in his gloves, oh, gloves, the gloves are back.

“That’s ok, love. It’s ok to not know.” Roman murmurs, crouching beside him, carefully resting a hand on his knee, gentle enough he can easily pull away if he wants to.

“It hurts… I don’t understand… I can’t…” he stammers, voice cracking, a silent scream building in his throat, one that would shatter glass if he hadn’t already done that with his own fist, but his vocal chords are closing shut, and he can’t make any more words, which terrifies him, and soon his breath is gasping in and out, sandpaper rubbing his throat raw as he struggles to inhale.

“Breathe, Dee. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You can do it, Dee. In and out.” His vision is spotty, but he recognizes Virgil’s voice, counting out the numbers slowly and steadily, whispering out soft encouragements between numbers, until his vision clears, and he realizes he’s slumped back against Remus, who must have slid in between him and the wall to cushion his head.

“DeeDee? You back?” He nods weakly, collapsing as a final wave of fiery flame races across his face, feeling everything shift back into place, his scales unfurl across his cheek, his capelet settle across his shoulders, his gloves firmly in place.

“yes. Sorry.” He manages, face pressed against Remus’s shirt, not trusting himself to look at anyone, not wanting to see his own reflection in the shattered glass, afraid of it for the first time in years.

“Oh, kiddo. There’s nothing to be sorry about. I was coming to check on you, cause you seemed a little off in the kitchen, when Logan heard you shout and the thump against the wall.”

He winces. He hadn’t realized he’d shouted. Hadn’t realized he’d been that loud.

“Don’t apologize again, or I’ll rip out your tongue and stitch it back on.” Remus whispers in his ear, making him let out a surprised snort, because that is Remus’s way of saying he’s worried, and he cares, and he’s here.

“you’re hurt.” Patton murmurs, and he wants to wince at the touch that ghosts over his cheek, where the glass cut it, but he doesn’t, because it is touch, and it feels good to be touched so gently.

“We should also bandage those knuckles, and get them some ice, so they don’t swell.” Logan responds, and he cracks open his eyes at the almost hesitant note in his voice, peeking out from the sanctuary of Remus’s arms just a tad, just to gauge the amount of disgust or hatred he’d be dealing with now.

“Hey. ‘S ok, Dee. No one’s mad. No one’s upset. We’re just worried about you, alright? That’s all. Just let us help, ok?” Virgil asks, no doubt picking up on his own anxiety, the cause of which wasn’t hard to guess. Especially since Virgil had lived with them so long before moving. Virgil could read him better than anyone else, save Remus.

“ok.” He whispers again, looking around the room, seeing Virgil’s words echoed in everyone else’s eyes, and he can feel the truth of it like cream being poured into black coffee, slowly mellowing out the bitterness to something tolerable.

He lets Remus carry him to the living room, lets Logan and Patton fuss over his hand, lets Virgil slip onto the couch next to him, and intertwine their hands without saying a word, just a silent pillar of support. He lets his head rest against Roman’s shoulder, who starts humming softly, Remus eventually joining to form a strange, lilting duet that flits like a hummingbird through his mind.

“it’s ok, Dee. You can sleep.” He feels Patton kiss his head softly, as Logan finishes carefully wrapping his hand in bandages, but he doesn’t let go, instead gently stroking his knuckles with his thumb, just light enough to send tingles up his arm. “we’ll be right here when you wake up. Then we can figure this all out together, m’kay?” Patton asks, and he is barely aware of mumbling something that could be a yes, because he is warm, and surrounded by people, and surrounded by touch, that grounds him in a way he hasn’t known in years.

“thank you.” He whispers, not sure if anyone can even here him, with how quiet his voice is, how small, and it hurts, honestly, to speak, but he forces those words out anyway, because he means them.

“Of course, love.” Roman murmurs in his ear, and he feels Virgil squeeze his hand gently in agreement, Logan pressing a kiss to his bruised knuckles that sends shivers up his spine in a good way, Remus holding him just a bit closer, Patton gently tucking back his hair, and he is crying, finally, the silent tears slipping out because somehow being loved almost hurts more right now than being ignored and hated, because it gives him something to lose. And the last time he lost, he lost Virgil.

“you’re not gonna lose us, Dee. You’re not gonna scare us away. We will fight for you, I will fight for you, I promise.” Virgil, soft but fierce, and he can’t tell if he’d spoken out loud, or if his anxiety was just so strong that Virgil could read it with ease.

“I love you.” He says smally, slipping back into the darkness, every inch of him aching from the forced shifting, sore and feeling like every muscle has been pulled, every part of him stretched wrong.

“love you too, snake face. Now go to sleep.” Remus replies fondly, and he finds himself unable to disobey that soft suggestion any longer, not if his family will be there when he wakes up.

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seerofmike · 4 years ago

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Apex Characters as Stardew Valley Players

Part 2 Electric Boogaloo

Lifeline

-is trying really hard to complete the community center but is stuck on a few bundles

-has minor mods, like the improved map that shows characters, but doesn't want to cheat

-gives everyone gifts weekly

-doesnt care for profit and just grows flowers because theyre pretty

-didnt know u can date multiple characters/break up with them so she married elliott out of obligation

-has kids because she thinks theyre cute

-has never gone in the mines

-cannot fish without mods but won't use them

Bloodhound

-did not investigate the community center

-does not talk to any of the townsfolk

-crows keep eating their crops but they dont craft scarecrows because they like them

-owns every hat in the game

-can fish without mods

-stops playing winter year 1 because there are no more crows

Wraith

-bought it because lifeline recommended it as something "relaxing"

-literally cannot relax

-is rushing to maximize profit EVERY DAY

-lines the beach with 50 crab pots for MAXIUMUM PROFIT

-avoids elliott in game because of mirage irl

-doesnt marry anyone but she likes maru

-once completed 30 levels in the mines in one day

-can fish without mods

-somehow completed community center winter year 1

Rampart

-literally never cleaned up her farm after moving in and plants crops around the debris

-"its builds character"

-invites mirage to a co-op game so she can chase him around and freak him out

-masters the slingshot, somehow

-starts learning how to mod and somehow becomes really good at it

-makes mods for everything now

-crypto looked at her save file once and thought it was a completely different game with how much she modded it

-put the ability to murder in her mods for some reason?

-cannot fish without mods

-never bothers with the community center

Loba

-has romanced all 12 bachelors because she likes breaking up with them

-let rampart mod her game so that she can steal things as well

-somehow??? has 500,000 gold by the end of summer year 1??

-doesnt know what the community center is

-cannot fish, doesn't care anyways

-decorates her house to look nice

-doesn't care to check which character likes which gift because she thinks its hilarious when she recieves a negative reaction

Gibraltar

-completes community center in year 3

-Actually Relaxes and doesn't feel the need to do Everything all at once

-marries harvey because all the other bachelors seemed a bit too young

-makes sure to pet his dog and all his animals daily

-maxes 10 hearts with everyone in town

-does every single bulletin board request

-somehow reached bottom of the mines with the wooden sword

-can fish without mods

Pathfinder

-started off with the 4 corners map because he wanted to do co-op with mirage and wraith

-makes everything really neat and orderly

-has married and divorced every single bachelor

-keeps elliott around so he can invite mirage to his game and go "hey look! we are Best Friends!"

-thinks shane and sebastian are mean :(

-investigated community center but keeps accidentally selling the things he needs for it

-can fish without mods

#apex legends #lifeline #bloodhound #loba #rampart #gibraltar #pathfinder #wraith #stardew valley

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unsteadygalaxy · 4 years ago

Text

all is soft inside chapter 4

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/64695070

previous | next

4. running with the wolves

Mirage picks up an R-301 and lets out a huge sigh of relief. He quickly removes every attachment from his Alternator and swaps it over to the new gun, and dumps the old one on the floor. Good riddance, he thinks. He hates the Alternator. It feels too choppy and unpredictable in his hands. The smoothness of the R-301 made it a favorite weapon of his. He holsters it, picks up a stray box of heavy ammo, and loads that into his Wingman. “Hey kids,” he says to the comms piece in his ear. “If you see a good old Skullpiercer anywhere, let me know.”

He was doing surprisingly well today. I guess ‘well’ is a relative term, he thinks. At least we weren’t first blood again. The teams list this morning made him dread his very existence. Today Mirage is teamed up with Caustic and Crypto. Crypto he could handle, but Caustic? God, he hated that guy. Nox was so snide and rude to everyone around him. His attitude was as toxic as his experiments, and Mirage couldn’t stand being around him.

“Skullpiercer here,” Caustic announces.

Ugh. Gross, Mirage thinks. “Hey, thanks buddy! I’ll grab that.” He trots down the stairs and makes his way over to the next building to pick up the attachment. Caustic is behind the counter, setting a trap in the corner by the door. Crypto is crouched over in the storage room, observing his drone through a holographic screen.

“Two squads in my drone range,” Crypto calls. “We should make our way over the hill to Fragment East. We need to go now so we don’t get pinched.”

“No,” Caustic disputes. “We can lie in wait for them here. I believe all our Ultimates are charged, yes?”

“Yes, but we need to beat them up the hill,” Crypto replies. “If we do not take the position now, we will be overrun.

“Are you afraid, Crypto?” Caustic sneers. “It seems that you feel threatened, do you not?”

“Maybe it is you who should be afraid, Nox,” Crypto says, a hint of venom in his voice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, kids!” Mirage says nervously. “Let’s break up the catfight! Listen, Caustic, Crypto is right. We’ve got to take the choke point before anyone else does.”

“Suit yourself,” Caustic responds. He staunchly ignores the two of them and moves to the other door to set the next trap.

Mirage sighs. Dammit, he thinks. These two are insufferable. “Come on, Crypto, let’s leave Mr. Gas Man alone to do his dirty work.” He attaches the Skullpiercer to his Wingman, jogs out of the room, and begins to head up the hill.

“Fine, old man.” Crypto follows suit, skirting around the buildings and sticking to the mountainside.

“Old man?” Mirage shouts, annoyed. They ascend the hill swiftly. “Come on kid, you’ve gotta let that slide! You’ve been calling me that ever since-”

kzzzhhhCRACK!

The sound of a fully charged Sentinel rips through the air, and the accompanying bullet hits Crypto squarely in the chest. He yells something in Korean that Mirage doesn’t understand, and scrambles up the ledges underneath the giant overhang.

kzzzhhhCRACK! Another charged bullet flies directly in front of Mirage’s nose, missing him narrowly. “DAMMIT!” he yells. He releases all of his clones, hoping to distract the other team for just long enough to join Crypto on the ledge. The echoes of you got bamboozled! smack against the canyon walls, multiplying until it puts a ring in Elliott’s ears. He rushes up the ledges and crouches, trying to take aim with his Wingman.

Bloodhound, Wattson, and Octane speed up the hill with inhuman swiftness, pursuing Mirage and Crypto relentlessly. Mirage takes aim at Wattson with his Wingman and fires. His hands are shaking from the escape, and he misses the first three. The next two hit her in the shoulder and stomach respectively, and her shields sputter, but hold. Crypto fires his G7 at Octane, but Mirage is too distracted to see whether or not he lands his shots.

“Caustic!” he calls, swapping to his R-301. “These guys are feeling ag- agn- aggre- FEISTY today, so I’m gonna try and draw them down to the city. You come up behind and cut off their retreat!”

“Understood,” the trapper responds.

Uh… did he just agree with me? “Wow, okay, great! I’ll see-”

“Move, you imbecile!”

“Uh- right!” Mirage quickly fires a clip of his AR at Wattson, then dashes down the hill towards Fragment. He tosses a decoy to the side, hoping to throw off his pursuers once more. Crypto tosses his drone into the air, and positions it in a perfect spot to detect any enemies coming up the hill. He follows Mirage, taking shots at Octane with his Prowler as he goes. He backs up and hides behind a small outcropping of rock just as Mirage makes it to the halfway point.

An otherworldly roar splits the air.

Mirage slides behind a large shipping crate, and tries to see what the hell is going on. Crypto’s drone indicates two hostiles, further up the hill, but the third is nowhere to be seen. Where…? Caustic’s gas canister arcs far above all their heads, and explodes upon impact, cloaking them all in a green mist. Just as Crypto begins to activate his EMP, his drone is shot down, and the indicators disappear. The steady beating of bullets rings in Mirage’s ears, and he calls out to his team. “What’s going on? I thought you guys were gonna choke them!”

“Shut up!” Crypto yells in frustration. “You abandoned us!”

A cold feeling grips Elliott’s chest, and he stops in his tracks, breathing hard. “Look, it’s not my fault you guys are completely incompetent-”

A pair of glowing, red eyes emerges from the toxic mist, and the words in Elliott’s mouth fizzle out and die. Bloodhound swipes the gas away, and sprints down the hill, low to the ground, surrounded by an electric red energy that makes Elliott’s eyes water. Even from where Elliott is, he can hear how hard Bloodhound is breathing. They flip a small, lethal looking axe in their hand as they run, and Elliott is scared for his life. He’s seen Bloodhound while they were Ulting before, but never like this. He’s rarely ever been on the receiving end.

Bloodhound is a beast of deadly precision, flying down the hill as smoothly and imperceptibly as their raven companion would. It seems like lightning strikes with every step, and Elliott just gazes at them, absolutely dumbfounded. They’re a magnificent creature, exuding pure power and dignity and strength. Too late, he realizes that he should, in fact, be getting ready to shoot at them. That familiar feeling in his stomach clenches both pleasantly and unpleasantly, and he takes aim with his Wingman.

The first shot misses completely, but part of Elliott doesn’t even care. Part of him just wants to watch Bloodhound and nothing else. You dumbass! Why are you so useless? Stop freaking out like a six year old girl and SHOOT! He shakes his head, and takes aim once more. The next three shots land perfectly on Bloodhound’s head and chest, putting a sizable amount of damage into their red shield. Bloodhound swiftly pulls out an R-99 and fires at Elliott’s head and chest, ripping through his purple shield with ease. Dammit! Elliott dives back behind the storage crate and throws out a decoy, taking the brief moment he has to reload both of his weapons. His breathing is ragged, heavy, and it almost keeps him from hearing what’s going on.

Elliott darts out from his hiding space, taking aim at Bloodhound’s head with his Carbine. Except… Bloodhound isn’t there. He turns around, and immediately gets shot in the chest with their R-99. Elliott falls to the ground, bleeding and gasping, and his head hits the dirt, hard. His vision spins, and bile rises to his throat. Bloodhound stands above him, still crackling with electric energy, breathing hard. They reach in their pockets for something shiny and silver. The ringing in Elliott’s ears reaches a deadly pitch, and he hears something he vaguely recognizes.

“Fyrirgefðu mér.”

Bloodhound’s axe embeds itself into Elliott’s helmet, and everything goes dark.

#apex legends #miragehound #mirage apex #bloodhound apex #mirage apex legends #bloodhound apex legends #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #my writing #apex #apex legends fanfiction

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rotzaprachim · 4 years ago

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Ok but your soc au was and is absolutely everything I need!! I saw ur draft and was instantly brought back to like 2018 but like in a good way??!? You’re so talented it’s amazing!!

i’m SO GLAD TO HEAR and not sure if this is about the Hunger Games Au or the misfit au but EITHER WAY i am always so so SO glad when people enjoy my extremely niche soc (+ even nicher soc AU) stuff it’s been one of my most consistent interests for five years now.

ALSO! There is MORE of the SOC misfits au and i actually have so many ideas and precise plot points i am going to have to take out a notepad and try to plan this bitch out? Which i NEVER do? But here’s a scene from the opening. Hope you enjoy!

CONTENT WARNING that while one of the biggest divergences i plan to take is that the AU will be far, FAR less sexual than Misfits as a show, taking in mind the younger general target audience and character ages of Six of Crows and respect for the characters, there is a sexual joke in this that felt appropriatedly teenage.

“We were given these powers for a reason. We have to do something useful with them. Use them to help people.” Inej insisted.

“Given these powers by who, then? God?”

“God wouldn’t give them to us as a reward,” Matthias said, suddenly flexing his hands nervously, as if the possibility of his newfound ability to turn things into instant popsicles had in fact been conferred by a far more demonic entity. Looking at Kaz, he thought there was something to that particular theory.

“Everyone shut up with making the fucking community center into some kind of fucking seminary. God’s faker than the blonde hair of the poor girl who delivers off-brand milk to this dump on thursdays, and if there’s any supernatural reason for our powers, it’s that fate decided they’d dealt me a fucked enough hand and might as well give me something with a purpose.”

“And that is?”

“Making myself fabulously, disgustingly rich.”

“Which you plan to do with your ability to inflict plain in what, the fucking community center? None of us have five fucking quid to rub together, except for Posh Boy Here.”

“I don’t have five quid either,” Wylan said quietly, getting mostly drowned up in the arguing.

“Yeah you do,” Jesper said quietly. Wylan almost flinched, unused to being heard in the chaos. “I know the pen you have. Some kind of an old school Lamy that needs fancy ink cartridges. It’s like, ninety at least.”

“You know about Lamy pens? From where?”

“I got a past even the devil would flinch from, merchling. I have seen things. Horrifying things, spine tingling things, th-”

“I’ve seen you before. On Tv i think.”

It was Jesper’s turn to be surprised. “I-”

“There is no fucking way you are going to do that. I’ve been trying for fucking years and I barely make rent.”

“Are you saying you have a sharper acumen for the world of business, Nina dearest?”

“I’m saying I didn’t get fucking arrested for eating pick-n-mix, that’s for fucking sure. Anyway,” Nina said primly. “I agree with Inej. If we have powers we should use them for something.”

“Like what? Fighting the oppressive overarching structures of society that hold us all down?” Kaz’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Yes.” Inej said.

“I was thinking more like. I dunno, small things. Loads of hopeless cases around here.” She shrugged. “Maybe we can make some a little less hopeless.”

“That’s going to be really easy, what with the dead body of our probation worker lying around premises. Yes reporter officer sir, we did help that old lady cross the road with her sunday shopping, now come take our interview and take our photos for the Sunday Supplement and yeah, sir, don’t notice the full on bloody corpse lying in the rec room.”

“We do it in secret. Have codenames to mask our identities, like real superheroes do.” Wylan said.

“They organise a cute little meet-and-greet with a real fucking superhero as an extracurricular at Eton, did they now? Give you have so much experience with how real superheroes operate, then.”

Inej’s eyes flashed. It almost looked like a warning, and he filed a mental note that she looked like she might have a little more lightening inside than he’d first judged. Kaz glanced away from her and stared at the wall where they’d hastily moved a big sign for Mommy and Me Musical Magic Monday Maraccas Momzanza!!! (6 months to three years) over what remained of the blood, which, given the deteriorating likely asbestos-ridden condition of this rattrap, would be a goddamn bitch to fully get out of all the cracks and gouges in the wall. After they dealt with the body.

The problem was, he liked the posh twit’s idea. Liked it a lot, far more than he was willing to let on. If there was anything he’d learned in his years in the Dregs, it was that names had power. Images had power, the idea that other people had of you. If they were properly terrified, they stayed the fuck away and did what you told them too. Make something greater than yourself, and have them fear it. That was the closest you came to power in this world.

So Kaz gingerly nodded, levelling his enthusiasm in a slightly bored town. “Yeah, eh. Let’s do that. Codenames. So they don’t know what ours are.”

“You go first, then, genius. What’r you gonna be going as? Cazzo Brekker? Dickhead of the nth degree?”

Kaz thought for a moment. Tapped his gloved fingers against his knee. “Dirtyhands,” he said.

A long, sudden pause. Kaz’s brain worked fast enough to realise the disaster he’d just set off, and he was suddenly, urgently, jealous of Jesper and his powers over town.

The silence was broken by Nina shrieking with laughter, harpy lad and almost doubled over.

“Dirtyhands? You might as well call yourself Filthy Fingers. Or better yet, Massive Fucking Wanker.”

“You could abbreviate that to MFW,” Jesper added helpfully. “In case Massive Fucking Wanker was too long to fit on the superhero cape or something.”

Kaz glanced around. Inej had disappeared, although rather that was using her power or because she’d always been good at doing that even before the electrical storm made them all freaks from one of Wylan’s comics, and Matthias was doing something that looked like praying fervently, hands clasped and searching strips of the grey sky through the cracks in the skylights, looking very much like a man caught in one of the lower circles of hell and searching desperately for deliverance.

“Very funny. I have a suggestion for you lot, then. It’s called D-E-A-”

He was well into launching himself at both Nina and Jesper, certain that if a fight broke out he at the very least wouldn’t be the looser, when he rammed into something small but very solid.

“What the-”

Some very sharp fingernails pinched his ears. Bold move, considering his aforementioned touch-me-and-feel-excruciating-pain powers. It hurt.

“Where-?”

Inej didn’t rematerialise. Jesper jumped up, though, as if someone had sharply stepped on his foot. “Oww, mate.” He reached out, swatted air. Nina tipped sideways suddenly, rubbing at her scalp. “Shit, did you have to yank at my hair that hard?”

She was fast. Tricky, tricky. Kaz mentally reassessed his current pecking order of bullshit-powers-by-order-of-danger

“If we don’t stop fighting, we’re all end up in prison again. Police’ll be here soon, and we need to make alibis. They’ll cross examine us and we need to make sure the stories match, because there’s no way they’ll trust any young offenders on our own. And we have to do something with the body before putrefication really sets in and the smell comes.”

Inej didn’t rematerialise. A veiled threat of another pinch, Kaz realised. He almost had to smile. Nina and Jesper both looked a little gobsmacked, and it dawned on Kaz that that was by far the longest string of words they’d heard Inej say at once.

“Fine.” He thought he saw a dark ripple of her hair, but it was nothing more than a mirage- a tease, he would have said, if it were Nina-” and she was gone again. “We will have veiled identities, but we will refer to each other exclusively by our true, God-given birth names. Kaz, Jes, Nina, Inej, Posh Boy, and Barry.”

“That’s not my name,” Matthias said.

“It’s fine, man,” Jesper says. “You can go by your middle name instead. Kaz does, which is why he’s referred to by the diminutive form of Kazzmatazz, instead of his first name, Demon.”

The clock on the wall hit five. Nina immediately started stripping off the required orange uniform jumpsuit, giving Matthias a good look at her cleavage.

“Don’t play with the poor boy,” Nina said. “He might almost believe we’ve all been possessed. Now has anyone seen where I left my bus ticket, lipgloss, and the half a hazelnut kitkat i saved from lunch?”

The wind, the unknowing observer would think, blew the ticket, tube of gloss, and wrapper, emptied, right back in Nina’s face.

#the soc misfits au #my writings #oh this felt like such a fun throwback for me too writing the Six of Crows characters!#thank you so much for this message agaon #anon #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa

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phantoms-lair · 4 years ago

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❧

The crowd was large and excited and that was how Arthur wanted it. Lance thought it was good for him to get out and do things. He didn’t know, would never know, Arthur had an alternative motive.

He wondered if he would have told the others. He might have eventually. But that wasn’t a factor now. Vivi had been called back to Japan on family business and Lewis had been scouted by a talent agency and Arthur was alone. And that was probably for the best. The truth weighed heavily on him, no one else needed to know. The lights shining on the audience vanished as the one’s on the stage brightened. Arthur closed his eyes and forced himself to relax as a loud cheer shook the area, only to be silenced by and electric violin.

He hadn’t paid attention to what the concert was or who was performing, but at least the music was good. But now it was time for the real reason he came. He could feel the energy of the crowds emotions swirling around him as the small horn on the back of his neck, hidden under the orange hoodie, absorbed the power. It wasn’t quite like the magatsuhi of Amala, but it was enough to give him some strength.

Then the performer started singing and Arthur’s eyes shot wide open. What...what were the freaking odds that the concert he’d randomly bought tickets for was none other than Lewis’s

A swell of panic rose, but he forced it down. He was one of hundreds of people in a darkened outdoor arena, and his hoodie was hiding his distinctive hair to boot. There was no way Lewis would have recognized him, especially with the lights in his face. No, he should just sit back and enjoy the show while siphoning a little of the excess energy in the air.

And damn, no wonder Lewis was scouted, he was born to be on stage. Even under the dual effort of playing the violin and singing, he was prancing around, moving dramatically with his coattails swaying. He was loving it.

And he deserved to. Vivi being forced to move back to Japan had broken his heart. It was good to see him regain his old passion, even if it made Arthur’s own heart ache for better times.

Lewis’s violin had reached a crescendo pitch when the first scream came from the crowd. Arthur sanpped to attention and saw waves of what looked like red-cloaked dementors circling above, a few dive bombing and attacking the crowd.

“Hellbent, Harmonize!” Lewis called out. A shadowy skull-faced being seemed to come out of nowhere and evelope Lewis causing a...magical girl transformation?

Arthur was trying to process that when a voice yelled “Get Down!” He ducked as one of the Dementor things dove on him and a glowing sword rimmed with ice shot out and sliced it in half. “You need to run! Get out of here, I’ll handle the demons.” “Vivi?” Arthur asked in disbelief. “Arthur?!” Vivi looked back in shock.

“Demons now, reunions later,” Mystery barked, changing into a giant fox. “All hands on deck.”

Vivi nodded in understanding. She pulled out two glowing items and two more strange beings appeared. “Moh Shuvuu distract the enemy. Orthus, get as many people out as you can.” “Vivi Arthur? What are you doing here?” Lewis was flying towards them on purple flames. Well, Arthur supposed the giant fox demon, wing haired girl, two headed lion thing, and glowing sword would attract some attention.

“Watching the concert?” Arthur stammered out. He wasn’t ready for this, oh he wasn’t ready for this.

“Professional Demon Hunting.” Vivi answered.

“Close enough, I guess.” Lewis narrowed his eyes at the the things circling the sky. “Okay Arthur, you stay behind me and Vivi and-” Lewis didn’t notice the dementor thing coming up behind him until Arthur raised his hand and a bolt of pure lightning flung from it and fried the creature mid air. Arthur was breathing heavily and Lewis could see blue glowing line on his hands and face. “We...need to talk after this.” “Long overdue.” Vivi agreed.

The three stood back to back, ice, lightning, and fire crackling in their hands. Then they charged.

~~~~

Big ol’ Atlus crossover with MSA here. Also no-cave Au

Vivi was called back to Japan on a family emergency, the death of a relative. It turned out her family had a secret. One member would be chosen to keep the worlds of man and yokai safe from each other. The family member who passed had been that person and Vivi had been selected to replace them. She fought it vehemently as first, but caved when she found out that she was the only one who had enough spiritual capacity to do the job, and if she didn’t several people could die. Not wanting to drag Arthur and Lewis into her now very dangerous life, she told them she couldn’t return to America.

Arthur was crushed, but Lewis was utterly devastated. In one of Arthur’s attempts to cheer him up he took Lewis to audition for ‘become a star’ thing where his talent and charisma made him a huge success. At least that’s the story Arthur and his family know. The truth is Lewis was targeted by entities known as Mirages, but was able to merge with a benevolent one, called Hellbent, and was able to fight back. It turned out the hostile Mirages fed off humans, usually gathered in high numbers in high levels of excitement. For that reason the group dedicated to fighting them has placed agents as performers (from singers to athletes) so they can always be on hand in an attack occurs. He also chose not to tell anyone he was close to, so they wouldn’t get mixed up in it.

Arthur was bummed when both Vivi and Lewis left town for good, but when pressed he’d say it wasn’t the end of the world. Arthur knows. He’s seen the end of the world after all.

He’d experienced the apocalypse brought upon by a cult. He shouldn’t have survived, wouldn’t have, except something decided it would be fun to watch him and somehow partially turned him into a demon. Known as the Demi-fiend he fought his way through the Vortex World, defeating the cult and earning the right to form the world that was to be born into one of his choosing. He chose the old world, minus the cult. But even though everything returned to normal, he didn’t. So now he uses tattoo concealer to hide his markings, and hoodie to hide the horn on the back of his neck, and tries to forget any of what he saw.

#MSA #Tokyo Mirage #SMT: Nocturne #SMT: Devil Summoner #Ghost Writing.#youareshauni

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eightdoctor · 6 years ago

Text

Bruce Week Day 3: Mirror/Night and Day

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859947

He runs and runs and his DNA runs with him. Every morning Bruce wakes up with a different face.

They say that your life and its path is dependent on the friends you make. So by extension, your life, your personality, is all reliant on your friends, your acquaintances.

Bruce doesn’t have those, and he doesn’t know what he lost first; his life or his friends. Maybe they were synonymous with each other, or maybe not. It’s not like it matters.

After his friends - and his life, he supposed; he’s dead now, technically, not even a person but a thing, a possession - he lost his assets. The money he had been saving for years for the white picket fence and the swing set in the backyard is gone, his apartment is gone, his clothes and furniture and everything is gone. They renovated his lab into a storage room, they deleted and purged all his files and research. If your life depends on what things you own, well...you know how it goes.

Then it was his name. With every disguise came a new name, a new person, a new life. A life that was discarded when he was found, peeled off and thrown away like trash. Countless names and lives and people were killed by the monster, the Hulk, whatever you call it, but countless names and lives and people were killed by Banner, as well. Names distinguish the person, a name decides your life and your identity. Bruce Banner had no name because he couldn’t afford to have one, and so he had no life because he couldn’t afford to have one.

The next thing to go was his autonomy. Simple, easy. He has no choice in where he goes, he just floats in the wake of the Hulk as he paddles furiously away from the military. Philosophers argue if humanity has free will, but Bruce doesn’t need to argue. Because he knows. The answer is a resounding no.

The last straw, the final nail in the coffin of his horrible, fucked up life, is the removal of his face. After a month of running and hiding and dying, the gamma twists his insides and swaps some nucleotides around so some As become Gs and Ts become Cs and he wakes up in his grubby motel as a stranger to himself. His hair is lighter, almost ginger, his eyes are rounder, his chin squarer. The reflection in the mirror moves with him but it isn’t him. It’s the worst feeling, he thinks - that disconnect. He knows he should look different, look like how he did on that fateful Day (a deafening roar and a wave of heat and power and green, green, green...the screaming and the Geiger counter ticking ticking ticking…), but he...doesn’t.

An adaptation. A mutation. An evolution. Call it whatever you want. Bruce calls it death.

Bruce is dead. It’s too bad he can’t die.

It’s in some backwater town in Texas where he breaks; some meaningless, inconsequential town with a population of 107 where the nearest Walmart is 45 minutes away. He’s staying in a cheap bed and breakfast owned by a nice old woman who can barely move from arthritis.

The room is adorned in frills and has that distinct old-person-smell, but it’s nicer than most of the places he’s stayed in in the past few months, with a mattress that isn’t rotten and electricity that doesn’t flicker.

It also has a mirror. He tried to avoid them after seeing how his appearance shifts every week, but running into one is more or less inevitable, isn’t it? Sometimes he catches his reflection in shop windows and cringes, or there's a flash of the wrong face in a body of water and he flinches. But he hasn’t looked close. He doesn’t think he’d be able to keep it together if he does.

And he was right.

It’s a Tuesday, when he breaks. He wakes up, showers, leaves the shower, towels off, walks past the mirror on the dresser, stops. Stares.

It isn’t him. Or it is him, but his cheekbones are lower on his face and his eyes are almond-shaped and hazel and he doesn’t even recognize himself. It’s like there’s a mime behind that pane of glass doing what he does as if the mirror isn’t a mirror.

He raises a hand to touch his chin, and the man in the mirror copies him exactly. A choked noise rises in his throat, some horrible hybrid of a scream and a sob, born of surprise. The man’s face that is-isn’t-is his reflection crumples, and Bruce feels his do the same.

It’s like his brain is split in two. Logic says that he’s in the mirror, that that’s him because that’s what mirrors do, they reflect, but then there’s his instinct. This isn’t him. This can’t be him. He doesn’t look like that. His hair is dark brown and his chin is pointed slightly and his eyes are dark and almost black.

He collapses to his knees, as if something hit the back of his legs and they buckle like a marionette with its strings cut. The man in the mirror follows him down, down, down. Bruce feels like crying, but the tears don’t come. They never do. He isn’t allowed to have these emotions, this sort of distress. He isn’t allowed to cry, because the Hulk doesn't let him. Crying leads to anger leads to destruction leads to death. So he doesn’t cry, but he wants to.

He doesn’t always get what he wants.

Bruce feels himself float away from his body, his face. He tries to hold on tight, because he can’t lose control, he can’t, but he never really feels himself come back down, and he never feels himself stop floating.

Jen’s apartment is there. It’s there, and she’s in it. Bruce knows she’s in it, because he had watched her walk in, his face concealed by a bowed head and the grimy baseball cap he had pulled out of a Salvation Army bin. Today his hair was ginger, the color of orange sand, and his eyes were round and owlish. He only got a glimpse of himself in the grubby mirror as he left his motel room.

But it didn’t matter what he looked like, because Jen was there. She was right there. His cousin, his friend, his familial soulmate. Less than 100 feet away.

Bruce couldn’t go speak to her, though. He was frozen, stuck, as if his spine had grown roots and anchored him to this metal bench with chipping green paint. His hands wove together in a flurry of movement fueled by his anxiety, and his legs shook his seat with how hard he was bouncing them.

Go talk to her, moron.

Wasn’t it supposed to be easy to talk to a friend, as instinctual and inherent as breathing? Bruce hasn’t had a friend in so long, perhaps he forgot what it was like to have one. Or, well, he hopes she’s still his friend, he would understand if she wasn’t. Maybe that’s why he can’t walk up to her apartment and ring the damn bell. Maybe he was afraid she wouldn’t like him anymore.

He’s always been such a damn coward. A milksop, just like Ross had said on that fateful day.

He shouldn’t have come here. He should just walk away, and forget he was here, and just leave. Jen didn’t need to be involved in this, and fuck, Jen probably hated him anyway, despised him -

He didn’t realize he was walking until he found himself standing in front of her apartment door with no recollection as to how he got there, fist poised to knock, a few inches from the wood. Fuck. He couldn’t do this. Bruce looked down at himself. A blue jacket with a mystery stain on it he had found on the sidewalk covered his emaciated torso, a pair of frayed jeans a size too big hung off his hips. What a mess this was. What a mess he was.

God.

The door opened, and Bruce stumbled back. Why did he come here he shouldn’t have come here but it was too late now because she was right there.

“Uh…” Jen stood in her doorway, awash in the natural light emanating from her apartment; it made her look ethereal, like she was a spirit or ghost or something. Bruce had to restrain himself to reach out and touch her, to see if she was actually solid or just a hallucination, a mirage. He wouldn’t put it past his brain to do something like that. “Can I help you…?”

Bruce looked up in shock, saw the wariness and trepidation present in her eyes. There was no spark of recognition in her features. None. Her eyes were void of familiarity, as if he was a stranger. He blinked, unsure of what to do. He was expecting surprise, happiness, anger, sadness - anything. Not this. Not this…this nothingness.

She didn’t recognize him. He doesn’t know what to do. What does he do?

“Jen,” he coughed, voice hoarse from disuse, “Jen…” his desperation was palpable.

“Um...yes?” She had taken a step back, her hand on the door, ready to close it.

“Jen - Jen, Jen,” he repeated her name like a mantra, a chant. It almost didn’t sound like a real name anymore. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she wasn’t real, maybe this was just some bad dream. “Jen, it’s...it’s me.” It’s Bruce. He couldn’t say that, though. Because he wasn’t Bruce, hadn’t been in years.

Jen was looking more and more freaked out the more he spoke. She didn’t recognize him. She didn’t recognize him. “I’m going to...I’ll be right back,” she moved to close the door, but his foot darted out to prevent it from shutting.

“No!” He called. “No, no Jen, Jen please…”

“Sir,” her formal tone caused thorns to grow around his heart, squeezing and piercing and hurting. “I don’t know what you want from me, but -”

God, he couldn’t take this, this, this torture. “Jennifer! It’s me, it’s -” Robbie Bruce David Robert “Bruce. It’s Bruce.”

Jen’s stance immediately stiffened. “You - you aren’t Bruce. You can’t be. Bruce is dead.”

Bruce was dead, she was right. He was dead, and now there was only Bruce.

“And besides…” Jen continued, “you don’t look like him.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say in response to that, because she was right. He didn’t look like Bruce. So he just mutters something about having the wrong person and leaves, because he’s a coward.

Later, after Jen got shot and there was blood blood blood, pooling on the tarmac in a puddle of scarlet so thick it was almost black, reaching out to him in red tendrils like it did when Mom died, Bruce moved into action from the alleyway he’d been watching from. He couldn’t have done anything before the gunshot, because then the Hulk would have come out and hurt Jen and he just couldn’t hurt her, not again, so he didn’t move and just stood there and watched. And then Jen was bleeding out and he stood and watched. Just like he did on that night with Mom. He stood and watched until something clicked and he was spurred into motion.

The blood transfusion happened during one of those times where everything goes fast and slow at the same time. Bruce stares as poison enters her veins and hopes that it’ll work, that she’ll be alive after this.

He drops her off at a hospital when she’s stable.

Later he finds out that a large hulking woman, big and green and muscular, was seen in L.A.. As Bruce is eaten by the guilt, he hopes that Jen doesn’t become Jen.

He hopes she can keep her life.

He’s in Bangalore when he’s found. The slums are warm and hot and damp, steam rising off the muddy ground like a sauna. Most nights he arrives at his abode - a liberal use of the word - with inches of mud caked on his shoes and weighing his steps down.

When they find him, he’s asleep. But he wakes up, because he’s always been a light sleeper - it’s a habit that has roots in alcoholic fathers and crying mothers, that stems from running running running. He’s sure he hears them before they see him, because an entire military squad is very hard to keep silent. He doesn’t bother running, which is a first for him.

He’s just sick of existing and not existing in this wretched sort of purgatory, with his different name, different face, different blood. He doesn’t know what parts of him are really him anymore. He’s just a harbinger for the Hulk, a carrier of the plague, a bad omen that predicts nothing but destruction.

So he walks out of his lean-to and faces his executioner, arms up in surrender. Bruce doesn’t move and doesn’t care as they shackle the mutant inhibitor around his neck and roughly restrain his hands behind his back.

This is wrong. So, so wrong.

He shouldn't let them do this.

But he is just so, so tired.

So he does.

His hair is brown - almost black - and it falls in his eyes limply, burdened from days of dirt and grime and oil. Bruce’s eyes - they're more wide set, now, a light brown - are sunken like a corpse’s, and his movements are jerky like the undead. It’s appropriate. He looks as dead as he feels.

They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He has no friends, but he does have enemies. It’s the one thing he does have.

But they are mostly the Hulk’s enemies, so maybe he doesn’t have anything, after all.

Ross towers over him, square muscles square torso square jaw pulled taut, something awful glimmering in his eyes.

“Finally found you, you bastard,” Ross gloats, chewing a gross black cigar. Bruce doesn’t blink as Ross exhales smoke like pepper spray into his eyes. He does tear up, though. It’s the first time he’s cried in years.

Dead eyes glance up at their captor, blank and dull. Furious eyes stare down at their prisoner, filled with fury, then...something else. Confusion.

“This isn’t him!” Ross shouts at the army men surrounding him. Bruce’s face is slack with shock as his restraints are removed, and he’s shoved unceremoniously back into his house. He stands there until the soldiers leave, their feet light and solid despite the mud beneath their boots. He stands there and doesn’t move. And then he starts laughing. He laughs and laughs and laughs until he realizes he’s crying and the tears finally come and don’t stop.

He clutches at his cheeks with a tenacity that makes them bleed. He doesn’t feel the sting from his nails piercing his skin or the burn from the salt in his wounds. He just feels relief and disappointment and everything. He hasn’t felt anything in the past year, hasn’t allowed himself to. But the dam broke and now there’s everything.

The blood drips down his chin and mingles with the tears, and together they fall to the floor in a cavalcade of scarlet.

They say that your life and its path is dependent on the friends you make. So by extension, your life, your personality, is all reliant on your friends, your acquaintances.

He has friends now, and they’ve been with him for about a month. He had sought after Betty one day and explained everything, and Jen had seen Hulk save the world and had sought after him, and Rick...well, Rick was always there when he needed him. So he had friends, which was nice. He wasn’t used to nice. But he could get used to it.

He has possessions now as well. Jen let him live in her guest bedroom. He had a weighted blanket, a stack of books and scientific journals, and a phone and laptop. He felt almost like a normal person, almost like he didn’t have a maelstrom inside of him, always ready to be unleashed.

He was in Jen’s guest bedroom when he saw it.

The room is cluttered; not disorganized, just cluttered. Busy. He can’t find it within himself to throw anything away - he hasn’t had anything in so long, that he keeps everything. Ticket stubs, notebooks, dried out pens, everything his hands have come in contact with litter every surface. There’s a bathroom attached to his room, and this bathroom has a mirror, as bathrooms do. He avoids it.

It’s a Tuesday, when he sees it. He wakes up, showers, leaves the shower, towels off, walks past the mirror in the bathroom, stops. Stares.

It’s...it’s him. It’s him. His reflection stares back at him and he has a pointed chin and high cheekbones and dark brown eyes and light brown hair and it’s him - God, it’s him. He doesn’t react at first, just looks and doesn’t blink or move. It takes a while for the realization to break through that wall of shock. An arm slowly raises to feel his chin. He blinks.

And then he’s laughing. He’s laughing like that night in Bangalore. Loud and manic and relieved.

Jen must have heard him, because she barges in, almost knocks the door off its hinges.

“Are you okay - oh my God.”

He looks up at her, eyes glistening with tears. “Jen, Jen, I’m me.”

“Oh Bruce,” she says, and Bruce doesn’t need to correct her, because she’s right.

A name decides your life and your identity. Bruce finally has a name again, because he finally has an identity again. He looks like how he did on that fateful Day (a deafening roar and a wave of heat and power and green, green, green...the screaming and the Geiger counter ticking ticking ticking…).

For the first time in years, Bruce is alive.

#yeah ive already posted this sometime but im proud of it and it fits the prompt so #there #bruce week #bruceweek #bruce banner #bruce banner appreciation #my writing

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thesunlounge · 6 years ago

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Reviews 237: Ai

I’ll never be able to resist the wild and freaky prog, psychedelia, and space music that came out of Germany during the 70s. It was this perfect convergence of psychoactive substances, futuristic electronics, spiritual mind expansion, and rock’n’roll shamanism that produced some of the music I cherish most and while there are many great examples of artists exploring this sound in the modern era, very few have overwhelmed me with krautrock and kosmische perfection like Ai. The collective of Matt Flores, Frank Bauer, Andreas von Hillebrandt, and Shunsuke Oshio first appeared on Slowboy Records’ Kingii comp in 2012 and followed that up three years later with “Anima Itako” on Theme for Great Cities’ third Mogul release. This track then appeared later in 2015 when Ai issued their debut self-titled full-length on Hauch, which was deep and far-out trip into motorik trance rhythms, space riff percolations, kaleidoscopic synthesis, and amorphous starscape bliss outs that could equally soundtrack post-rave chill-out rooms and planetarium laser shows. For their second album II released at the end of 2018, Ai explore these same sonic spaces, but a slight change in personnel has augmented the sound in new and surprising ways. As opposed to their debut, Shunsuke Oshio only appears on four of II’s seven tracks and much of the guitar work has been transferred to new member Nima Moussavi, who brings a muscular 70s space rock riff energy as well as an even more pronounced level of interstellar prog majesty and funk and fusion fire. And in the shimmering “Amberica,” Amber Pine’s whispered vocals lead an etheric float down a river of dream-pop radiance.

Ai - II (Hauch, 2018) “Ai Theme” sets the stage with sweeping filters and sea blue hazes swirling above a balearic dreamscape. Downbeat electro-drums pound majestically through aquatic cloudrealms and vaporous pad washes smear together with romantic guitar atmospheres, with everything slowly phasing from one ear to the other. Chiming bubble melodies drift towards a sunburst sky while searing static waves swoon through romance motions and as we move towards the end, outerspace voice transmissions are surround by ever-evolving layers of oceanic mesmerism. At the other end of the A-side sits the gleaming pop of “Amberica,” which starts with a radiant soudbath of deep space filtering and chittering feedback. A dopamine drumbeat enters and cruises on light kick taps and air cracking snare smacks as dreamy vibraphone synthetics melt down from the sky. Heatwave brass layers swell around vibrato guitar weavings that at times evoke some sort of futuristic recollection of patriotic Americana, but this vibe is soon worked against by Amber Pine’s subversive and feminist beat poetry spells, which are delivered via sensual breaths and ambivalent whispers. She’s surrounded by immersive layers of shoegazing bassline funk, all subterranean sustain and riffing vibrations moving beneath wavering currents of guitar shimmer. I’m reminded of Amp, Bowery Electric, Jessamine, very early Spiritualized, and so much else from the golden age of pop-kissed 90s space rock, especially as Shunsuke Oshio radiates golden guitar magic that vibrates in tune with the universe while misty-eyed bassline lyricisms swim upwards through glowing reverb hazes.

In between “Ai Theme” and “Amberica” sits “Aruki Ikura,” where wind blown chimes and rustic guitars give way to riffing bass guitar heat and a mutant breakbeat riding on dazzling snare rolls and sizzling hat patterns. Frank Bauer’s ethereal prog organs descend and blistering noise waves swell while a spellbinding synth sequence works through the sky…starting subtle but slowly growing into a vocal strand of space acid magic that snakes continuously through the mix. After a rhythmic pause, the track erupts into pure motorik perfection with fat-bottomed basslines chugging beneath tight hypno-riffs and drums locking into an energetic krautrock stomp. The vibe sits somewhere between Neu! and Hawkwind, all pastoral psych magic intertwining with chugging space rock fire while phaser morphed organs fly through the sky. The Michael Rother airs are all the more pronounced when vaporous wah-wah licks enter, setting the stage for Nima Moussavi’s molten fuzz solo magic. Dreamy wailing guitar leads trail polychromatic tracers as the ultra-tight jam underneath threatens to explode, with massive drum fills and snare rolls surrounding liquid basslines as they slip and slide through LSD groove motions. Then the song fractures and fades into mist, before snapping back to life with a downbeat stoner funk jam out. Crystalline clean guitars underly moaning fuzz leads that play themes for majestic cloud kingdoms and eventually, Matt Flores works his rhythms back into a sunshine kosmisch glide while interstellar keyboard layers float the soul. And as we work towards the end, epic harmonizations and dueling leads locking together and climb towards a starscape horizon.

The first track on side B is split across three parts, with “Akai Indigo” seeing insectoid oscillations locking in with a fusion breakbeat jam-out. Snares skitter around tight kick and hat patterns while guitars drop deep blue shadow swells over exotic bass guitar walks. The panning oscillations grow ever more intense as they swim through distorted synth dream weavings and eventually the drums work into an upbeat gallop with off-beat snare flourishes and rhythmic clacks cutting through futuristic melody hazes and phaserwave oceans. Moving into “Akai Indika,” chugging bass riffs, technoid kraut-disco rhythms, and percussive dial tones slam through a black haze nightscape and evoke Heldon soaring at hyperspeed. Shakers pulse ecstatically as alien oscillations chitter and laugh and there’s so much magic in Andreas von Hillebrandt’s basslines…like Jannick Top locked into a hypno-groove disco ritual. As clanging chimes lock into an Afro-folk starscape, layers of resonance grow in strength, causing the synths to sound like glowing balls of energy bouncing through a galactic tunnel. And after dramatic horror-prog chords flow down from dark skies, we transition into “Akai Indigo (Reprise).” It’s a return to a world of jamming psych basslines and splattery swinging drumbeats, though it’s all somehow more lo-fi than before…like far-out garage rock blasted onto the surface of the sun. Burning waves of guitar sorcery melt over the mix and eventually move through rippling wah-wah motions and reality tearing phase-shifts and near the end, galactic synth solos bring dark funeral enchantments before it all disappears into self-oscillating smoke.

Reso-filtered machine cymbals and paranoid percussion energies give way to dubwise basslines and phaser-blasted hi-hat chaos in “Aleister Instamatic,” while melodic electro-tom cascades circle overhead. Unintelligible voices beam in through shortwave radios as a sped up break beat enters, with switching and smacking snare magic intercutting deep bass drum thuds. Sequences flash overhead and recall the crazed lines dominating “Akuri Ikura”…as if playful electro-spiders are crawling across the mind…while skronked out guitar chords sit beneath cymbals splashes that are increasingly shrouded in galactic static. We then sweep upwards into a swooning robot romance chorus with Frank Bauer’s melancholic vocoder melodies melting the heart until the track cuts into a wild guitar passage filled with wah-wah trance vibrations, violent flanger and phaser oscillations, and bubble-form delay clouds. Everything eventually breaks down into crazed plastic crinkles and metallic liquid noise, with bass guitars chugging through a nightmare landscape. But as kick drums push dark clouds of reverb, the basslines are progressively reduced to abstract picking sounds and acoustic string vibrations before fading away almost entirely, leaving guitar mirages flashing side-to-side while incandescent hums emanate from deep space. Angry screams and cosmic wind gusts surround crazed guitar loopings and everything stretches and smears out, with heatwave noise blasts growing in strength as the skittering beats return. And after a sharp pause, we explode once more into the climactic vocoder chorus, now with sweeping string synth orchestrations raining down from the heavens and leading into a gemstone piano solo coda.

“Anikulapo Immortal” starts in a world of smokey lounge jazz as basslines wander apart from tapped cymbals and midnight guitar chords. Anxious synth repetitions, floating aqueous hazes, and clattering rimshots move thorough air-sucking delay and reverb fx and Von Hillebrandt and Flores are in spiritual communion, with pulsating basslines supporting funked out tom-tom tribalisms. And as vocal breaths are spectrally morphed while deep space guitars shimmer like stars, I’m reminded of the ethnological forgery freak outs of Can and Amon Düül II and the side-long epics of Earthless. Galactic drone waves enter while the ecstatic groove motions flail ever forwards and there’s a growing sense of anticipation leading to a slow-burn explosion of dreamworld psychedelia and underwater jazz, wherein gemstone guitar strands are woven from liquid arpeggiations and spaghetti western slides. Then we transition sharply as low-down bass riffs stomp through a solar ascent, with palm-muted echo riffs, synth squiggles, and zany e-pianos floating on water waves. Flores revels in ride cymbal fire and revolving tom majesty while trancey pad smears and staccato riff bursts interlock with thunderous bass riffs….the whole thing evoking the hypno-prog and NWOFHM of Circle. Eventually the jam transitions from militant cosmic ritualism to post-rock majesty as Von Hillebrandt’s bass climbs through lyrical fantasias and leads us again into a passage of joyous pop-psychedelia and aquatic jazz, where haunted pad gases, e-piano vibrato weavings, chiming percolations, sliding guitars, and swinging cymbal and snare rhythms sit below distorted piano notes that seem to decay across the galaxy.

The track then shifts into a patient kick drum march with airy hi-hat taps fluttering and bewildering tom fill madness building in from the depths. Smoldering guitars riffs and shimmering cymbal taps cut through fogs of synth chaos, galactic reverb blasts, sci-fi chime cascades, and blistering filter weirdness and there’s so much ecstatic percussive energy as polyrhythms fly out in all directions. The bass guitar stomps and storms through the sky as the melodic layerings seem to devolve into clicks and scrapes. Then all of a sudden, a blazing guitar solo rips through the fabric of spacetime with bridge pick-up western twang and surf blues spiritualism smothered in slapback echo and white light vibrato fuzz. Breaky drum beats ride on golden cymbal taps and hypno-snare smacks while tambourines jangle joyously and wah-wah clicks flash across the spectrum. The rhythm guitars vibe out with bluesy hammer-ons and interstellar funk wiggles and Von Hillebrandt’s bass locks in and harmonizes with the sun-soaked psych soloing as the mix grows ever more anarchic and free, moving especially far-out once mind-melting organ drones blast in…their longform chordscapes drifting over the mix like muted rainbow light. And there’s a thrilling sense of transition, with the spirit being surrounded by aquamarine crystal hazes, searing feedback spirals, and crashing and thrashing cymbals as Ai work miraculously back towards that irrestible dreamwave psych and ocean jazz sway…a seamless transition from shamanic and shambolic psych bombast to instrumental pop enchantment.

The album closes with “A Huge Structure Far Behind the Sun,” which earns the Orb-ian evocations of its title by foregounding a pulsating sequence that is continually worked through otherworldly filter and envelope modulations in a way recalling “A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain that Rules from the Centre of the Ultraworld.” All around swirl primordial drones, UFO whooshes, ethereal washes of static, and hovering angel atmospheres as twinkling synth-pianos radiate webs of crystal. Warm swells of distortion break free from the rhythmic swirl of planetarium phase-shifters and the soul glides eternally on soft feedback pulses, filter morphing wave fronts, and layered strands of electronic fire…all while the hallucinogenic lead sequence morphs through long flowing decay trails and sharp staccato percolations. At some point, the bubbling yet subtle currents of rhythm give way to amorphous mermaid dirfstscapes, whale song oscillations, and deep sea lullabies that bring to mind Michael Stearns, Tangerine Dream’s Zeit, Seahawks, and Anna Själv Tredje. It’s pure psychoactive ritualism submerged within an underwater dreamscape where infinite webs of shimmering jewels are constructed from e-piano fractals and electro-bubbles. Mind-melting cymbal swells move into the mix then fade into ether and the Orb-ian galaxy sequence continues weaving polychromatic strands while sometimes overtaking the mix with transcendent blasts of spectral sonic vapor. And beneath it all, heavily treated guitars are transmuted into temple bells.

As we go along, the track continue to spread out and submerge itself within a sea of LSD tracers…as if the mind is being wrapped around by vibratory threads of every possible color. Sparkling melodies, screaming fuzz arcs, and blinding synth solos intertwine while all throughout the mix float the sounds of electrified marbles rolling through echo-caverns. The dreamscape lead sequence swims through modulating waves of distortion and slow motion oscillators accelerate into hyperspace spirals while interstellar resonances create droning clouds of warmth. And as we move deeper into the otherworldly electronic miasma, I am increasingly reminded of Experimental Audio Research, especially Beyond the Pale and Mesmerised…just a joyous celebration of the possibilities of analog synthesis to evoke neon jungle environments on emerald planets or seas of intergalactic gas crashing upon diamond shores. Overt rhythms are abandoned, as are MIDI-sequencing and programming, with Ai instead reveling in human manipulations of crazed alien electronics. Starlight keys add further layers of cosmic shimmer while swelling currents of cymbal metal push the spirit towards ecstasy and moving towards the end, delay trails and reverb tails start merging together…like lapping ripples of feedback spreading outwards on a surface made of glass.

(images from my personal copy)

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formerlyrunephoenix6769 · 6 years ago

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Fields of Gold. (Bumbleby fic)

She was loath to leave behind a good job with a reputable newspaper that she had worked hard for, but things with her ex-boyfriend had gone too far, so she had packed her most cherished belongings into her car, she had hugged her housemate goodbye, n tearfully parted, not telling Sienna where she was moving too so as not to put either of them in danger. Plus she had no idea where she was going. Absconding in the middle of the night, she had driven to a dealership,which coming to think of it had seemed at bit sketchy, swapped her car, bought a new sim card and deactivated all her social media accounts.

She couldn’t remember how far she had driven, Route 66 meandering across America, she was sure she passed a number of state lines, she had stopped off at diners in the small nondescript towns..

None of them taking her fancy.

It was in Oklahoma, 10 or so miles outside of somewhere called Clearwater that the engine gave out. Spewing up steam n making a bit of a gurgling sound as she willed the car to keep going, inch by laborious inch the noise became too loud to ignore giving one last pathetic squeal before the lights on the dash flickered and died and Blake thunked her forehead against her steering wheel in defeat.

It was only when she was rummaging through her purse she remembered that she had forgotten to purchase data, so there was no googling mapping where she was or figure out if there was any local tow companies.

Maybe if she got lucky she would be near one of the orange emergency phones that were dotted along the highways of America in case of this exact emergency.

With a deep sigh, she collected her purse and got out of the car to be instantly hit by a bank of oppressive heat and the glare of the midday sun. Shielding her eyes, she scanned the horizon and was meet with nothing but two fields either side of the highway, tall grain, rippling as far as the eye could see spread out like a vast yellow ocean.

The highway stretched like a snake, basking in the rays, heat shimmered off the surface and in the far distance a twinkle, more than likely a mirage.

She wasn't dressed for this vastly different weather, clad in heavy black jeans, a black tank top and leather jacket.

Reaching back through the car door, she retrieved her sunglasses from her visor and peeled out of the jacket, tossing it haphazardly on the back seat. She began rummaging through the trash she had accumulated over course of her journey in the already sweltering car, sifting through candy wrappers, crisp packets and sandwich covers, stretching out, she blindly searched under the passenger seat, and let out a squeak of triumph when her fingers coiled round the familiar feeling plastic of a water bottle but her victory short lived as when she retrieved it, there was barely a drop left. The ground beneath her feet began to vibrate. like the very asphalt itself was coming alive and a deep rumble began reverberate the car. Blake crawled backwards, trying to get out of driver’s side door only to hit the back of her head on the roof.

“ Fuck! ... God damnit!” She cursed, outloud to no one in particular

In a fit of temper and mounting frustration, she threw the bottle back into the depths of the car as the rumbling noise almost became deafening.

Turning to investigate the hellish sound, the journalist saw in the distance a huge green tractor approaching at a speed that surprised her. She had always been under the impression that tractors where slow and lumbering. This was anything but, it was large, much larger than she ever anticipated and it was fast approaching. Maybe whoever was driving was local? Maybe they would know a tow company or maybe they were a country bumpkin serial killer and all they would find of blake was her busted car?

She could be easily buried in a field and turn into one of those cold case shows her mother liked to watch. It's not like anyone knew where she was.. OR, She could stand on the side of the road, roast to death and die of thirst. They were her options! looking up at the cloudless cerulean skie, she spotted a bird hovering over the field... . I'll die here and my bones will get picked clean by vultures, what a fitting end! In university, she hadn't been voted most likely to die in a freak accident and she had no intentions of putting herself in the running.. Death by country bumpkin serial killer it is then! Wiping her already damp hands on her jeans, she stepped out giving the universal symbol of hookers everywhere and "Im available to be mass murdered." , stuck her arm n thumb out and shielded her sunglasses from staring in the direction of the sun. The tractor ate up the asphalt, leaving a plume of what looked like off coloured clouds from its side attached exhaust pipes. The machine looked monstrous, as it drew closer, Blake could make out the height n width of the tyres, at least another foot towering over her decent 5ft 7 in ,and she tried not to imagine being squished underneath them instinctively causing her to take a step back from the road. The wind screen was tinted making it near impossible to make out the driver.

The noise of the machinery clunked and clonked, almost as if making a mockery of Blake's car's plight, its cabin rocking and bouncing with its suspension,even on the supposedly flat surface of the road and did not seem to be slowing down any time soon.

In desperation, Blake flipped her long silky dark hair over her shoulder and flashed what she hoped was a megawatt inviting smile. With a deafening roar the tractor sped past, with a rush of wind, leaving Blake in a cloud of dust, dirt and nasty exhaust fumes that stuck in the back of the throat, causing her to cough and splutter. With watering eyes, she was about to flip the jackass the bird when she noticed the tractor beginning to slow down before coming to a halt up ahead on the side of the road.

Nobody alighted from the cabin and Blake remained cautiously beside her car, the driver’s door open, in case she needed to hastily duck back in and lock the doors. Not that it would offer much protection from a LeatherFace kind of creature hell bent on ripping her limb from limb.

After what seemed like an agonisingly long moment, the door to the cabin opened and someone hung out. From this distance, Blake could just about make out a brown cowboy hat, the sun glinting off a pair of glasses and a mass of unruly blond locks. A voice called out that invoked images of apple pie, iced peach tea on the wrap around porch, nights spent plinking a guitar round a campfire on the plains, and lazy summer evenings watching the fireflies dump into each other. "Is everythin alright there, darlin?" Ignoring the slight electric shock down her spine, and the 'darlin' part of the question, two very conflicting feelings, which right now was not the most opportune moment to act upon. Blake took a step forward, n away from the car. Holding up her hands so the other woman could she see wasn't armed. "My car..." She called out, "It conked out.. and my phone.." She gestured, " has no data... was wondering if you might know a tow company I could call." The blond paused, almost as if she was weighing the options as Blake stood there sweating her tits off in the midday sun in the middle of the road in buttsville county in whatever the fucking state she was in. Finally, coming to a decision, the woman climbed down from the cabin. As she approached, Blake began to wish she hadn't. As the Cowgirl, as Blake was beginning to think of her, came closer she could see the glasses were aviators. The blonde moved in confident strides, a roll to her hips n shoulders. worn brown cowboy boots, skin tight blue jeans held up with a chunky buckled belt. a yellow n brown flannel undone, but knotted just on the tummy, accentuating the woman's flat stomach and the rather impressive assets currently been held back by a straining bright white tank top.

The only words that the journalist could bring to mind was ‘breathtakingly beautiful.’ As she came to a halt just in front of Blake, the journalist could make out a slight honeysuckle brown texture to the skin of her collar bones and her strong looking forearms, no doubt gained from long hours spent outside. Blake licked her lips, finding her mouth suddenly dry. The blond woman's teeth were bright white and her lips were moving. Her ears finally getting the attention of her brain, Blake realised the blond woman had been talking as she had been staring. She sputtered, "I'm sorry... I didn't quite catch that." With her fingers in the loop of her belt and a relaxed cock to her hips, the blond regarded her, making Blake suddenly conscious of the fact she had been practically living in her car for the past few weeks and the last time she had showered properly was at a truck stop. She attempted to draw her fingers through her hair. The blond removed her glasses and asked, "How long you been out here? Did you get a touch of the sun fever?"

At first Blake bristled until she caught the hint of a smirk playing on the blonde's lips. She's damn well knows and she’s she's teasing me about it, the journalist thought. It was both parts hot and infuriating, but she couldn't help it when a laugh bubbled from her stomach and erupted from her chest, causing the blonde to break into a huge grin, with a devilish glint in her eye. Blake stuck out her hand in introduction. "Blake! From New York." The blonde took her hand shaking it with a firm grip. Her palm was surprisingly cool in heat of the day. This close blake could make out a smattering of sun dapples across the bridge of the blondes nose and apples of her cheeks and in the light her eyes looked almost lilac. As she shook her hand, she replied in that easy going almost teasing way,

" I was gonna say, you dont look like you're from round these parts.". "Its that obvious?". “ Yup..... 1) No one wears black out here, not on a day like today. 2) You're waving down strangers on the side of the road and 3) i know every one round here and I mean everyone and you, I don't recognise.... So you're either new to town or passing through.!” She paused, "Also...... Imma gonna need my hand back if you want me to have a look under the hood" And that's when Blake, the supposedly sophisticated big city slicker, realised she had been grinning like a buffoon, her sweaty palm still pumping the cowgirl's hand. She let go, giving an embarrassed cough, mumbling, "Of course.. of course." Once again the cowgirl regarded her with a look Blake couldn't fathom, as the flustered woman tried to regain some composure. Her cheeks were burning that had nothing to do with being under the sun's intense glare. In an attempt to hide her blush, Blake gestured with a incline of the head, "I’ll just go pop the hood..... shall I ?" "That would be ideal. " Blake ducked back into the car and almost yelped when her hand touched the metal of the door, it was scorching to the touch. Sucking on her fingers, she slid into the driver's seat trying to ignore the pair of ever so slightly mocking lilac eyes watching her intently.

Reaching underneath the steering wheel, she fumbled about. With it being a new car she wasn't entirely sure where anything was. Atleast she could duck her head n find some respite. Fingers clasped solid metal and she yanked hard to hear something click and the bonnet of the car popped open. The blond flashed her a thumbs up before lifting the bonnet and disappearing from view. Blake hastily checked her reflection in the rear view mirror and quickly brushed her fingers through her hair before alighting from the car and returning to the front to come across the cowgirl bent over inspecting the engine, giving Blake a view of a very firm and pert backside, the skin tight jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. The white vest top had ridden up slightly showing off a muscular lower back and the ever so slight hint of a red thong poking out of the lip of the jeans. Blake swallowed, biting back the urge to fan herself, just as the cowgirl straightened up. She removed her cowboy hat, taking a brief moment to look around before popping it on Blake's head and returning to what she was doing. Blake parked her backside ever so slightly on the bumper and watched as the blond began checking the oil and water gauge. "I didnt catch your name." "Cause i never gave it to you." Echoed from the depths of the engine straightening up the cowgirl gave Blake another annoying smirk, "I'm Yang..... From down the road." The two women held each other's gaze, before Blake once again broke out in laughter. As Yang removed a hair tie from her wrist and tried to bundle her unruly thick hair into a ponytail, Blake was certain she caught hints of gold glittering as it caught the sun light. "Would you have some water?" Yang asked. Blake shook her head, "I'm sorry." Yang gave a playful roll of her eyes. "Now i definitely know you ain't from round here." Bracing herself on edge of the bonnet with her hands, Yang added. "Theres some in the tractor." "You want me to go to the tractor?" Blake replied in slight disbelief, "Are you not afraid that I might just abscond with it?" "Do you know how to drive it?" "No." Blake admitted. "Then I think i'll take my chances." There came another pause, ".... It's under the seat." Blake seemed to stutter at the trust she was being given as Yang's eyes raked her up and down watching in interest. Pushing herself off the car, the journalist set off in the direction of the tractor. Arriving at the monstrous vehicle, it took her two attempts to climb up the awkwardly shaped steps. She almost fell off when she yanked the door only to find that it swung from left to right rather than a car door, right to left. She hung precariously for a few moments as her trainers slipped on the steps and she was able to nimbly correct herself. The cabin was surprisingly cool, tidy and smelt of freshly cut grass with a hint of lavender. With minimal effort she found the bottle of water retrieving it before ungracefully stumbling back down the steps, though she tried to be extra aware of her foot placement and closing the door with a slam. Head long, she rushed back only to find Yang casually sitting on the bumper of the car bonnet, flicking through her phone. At her approach, the blonde looked up and Blake spotted a dash of dark oil on her cheek. Handing over the bottle of water, she watched in fascination the way the column of Yang's neck bobbed as she swallowed the clear liquid. How it met the collar bones opening out to an expanse of honey coloured skin that looked soft to the touch, leading down to her cleavage that rose and fell ever so slightly.

For the second time in 10 minutes Blake was reminded just how dry her mouth really was. Another sickle of a smirk was her greeting alerting the brunette to the fact that she had been caught staring again. Offering out the bottle, Yang innocently asked, "Thirsty?" A second, seemed to last an eon, as the implication hung there, crackling like an electron, and Blake caught the wicked flash of mischief. Two could play at this game. Blake reached out for the bottle, allowing her finger to graze Yang's as she took it. With a smirk of her own, she held Yang's gaze, as she replied with a sultry, "Parched!" She continued to hold the other woman's gaze as she drank and she was delighted to see a bit of colour blossom across the cowgirl's cheeks and a bite of her bottom lip. Finished, she screwed the cap back on the bottle, slowly and deliberately drawing her thumb across her bottom lip to catch the slight moisture left there Without a word, Yang pushed herself off the lip of the car, closed the bonnet with a bang. She stepped up close to Blake, the other woman registered how the purple of her eyes was barely a thin ring, bordering huge black pupils that almost reflected her back. She leaned closer, her eyes darting all over Blake's chest hungrily before coming back to her face. Leaning closer still, she breathed against the brunette's ear, "Bring only the essentials and come with me.” Blake barely had time to drink in the intoxicating smell of the cowgirl so close, before Yang deftly plucked the cowboy hat from Blake's head, popping it on her own, giving her a down right salacious wink and setting off back to the tractor. Unable to move, Blake stood there in a stupor as her brain short circuited and a shock went straight from her stomach to her core, it was only when she heard Yang shout from up the road, "Unless you got better things to do." that she was finally able to move It was almost like a jump start . She flailed and tripped over herself, yanking on the door, scrabbling around the backseat, tearing open bags in an attempt to find a change of clothes, underwear,a towel and stuff them in a small backpack. She rammed in her toiletries bag, grabbed her laptop and her purse. Closing the door with a slam as the sounds of the tractor's engine roared to life, she had to retrace her steps so she could lock the door.

She rushed almost head long across the bleached tarmac in the sweltering heat on a road in the middle of buttsville, wherever the fuck she was, about to willingly and very eagerly jump into a stranger's vehicle, leaving behind no trace as to being there and as she scrambled to up the awkward steps and a strong yet cool hand reached to take her belongings, coupled with a warm megawatt smile, Blake realised, that she couldnt find it in herself to care. Her stuff safe stashed, she hovered a little awkwardly, as there was only one seat and tractors were not designed for two, until Yang patted her firm muscular thigh. "Come mere, darlin, you ever ridden a cowgirl's knee before?" Blake shook her head, trying not to laugh, instead she cheekily leaned forward, breathing against yang's ear, "But i'm a tryer, i'll try anything once." Before swiftly snatching Yang's hat from her head and placing it on her own once more. This time is was Yang's turn to laugh. "You're a feisty one, that's for sure." Blake grinned, wickedly, "You have no idea" "But I'd sure like to find out, Darlin." Hands reached, helping turn Blake around and pulling the slightly smaller woman on her lap on her lap, sitting her side saddle so Yang could see the road and reach the wheel. Blake lay one arm round Yang's shoulders and back, the other holding onto the stability handle to brace herself. "You comfy, darlin?" And for the first time in over a year, Blake truly was. As Yang pressed the throttle, the tractor lurched forward, causing Blake to let out a surprised yelp and a giggle and Yang to guffaw. As they thundered down the road, the cabin shaking and bouncing, which from Blake's vantage point gave her a very jiggly eyeful, she yelled out. "High ho Silver.. Awaaaaaay!" Much to Yang's amusement and a shake of her head. Never in her life had Blake ever imagined she would find a fresh start in the cabin of a tractor that smelt of freshly cut grass and lavender, wearing a cowboy hat from a girl from in the middle of the road in Buttsville, wherever the fuck she was.

#rwby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #blake x yang #bumbleby #bumblby #bumbleby fanfic #olkahoma #the sooner state #beehaw

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