#Multi Pressure Fire Fighting Pump

[midseo]

Power Take Off For Fire Tenders, Fire Hawk PTO, Manufacturer, India

Manufacturer, Supplier, Exporter of Power Take Off For Fire Tenders, Fire Hawk PTO from Kolhapur India.

[dakotaibrahim]

Understanding Hoses for Fighting Fires

Fire hoses are a critical element of firefighting and are used for transporting water, foam, and other types of flame retardant under high pressure. Hoses are connected to water pumps or fire trucks in outdoor settings, or are permanently connected to plumbing or standpipe systems indoors. Operational pressures are typically in the eight to 20 bar (116 to 290 psi) range, and most are rated to withstand burst pressures up to 72 bar (1036 psi).

Fire hoses are made up of a jacket and lining, with the jacket being either single- or multi-layered and crafted of materials such as plain or twill-woven high-tenacity polyester silk and polyester staple fiber, or nylon. The coating tends to be a material that boosts durability and strength, such as PVC or rubber. The outer layer is able to withstand both UV light exposure and abrasion, while the inner layer is designed for compatibility with the substance it carries. Traditional hoses are primarily made of rubber, and are heavier and have less heat resistance.

Hose diameters are commonly in the 3/4-inch to six-inch range, and those with diameters of more than 3.5 inches are called supply hoses. These are employed in transporting water at high pressure and high volume from a source such as a fire hydrant to the fire engine’s pump (or another forward position).

By contrast, hoses with smaller diameters are known as attack hoses. These are designed for easy carrying and maneuvering into place by firefighters, and are used to directly spray fires with high-pressure liquids. Hose lengths range from 30 to 50 meters, which provides sufficient reach for operations such as entering into structures or traversing extensive distances.

Thick-walled and covered in rubber, booster hoses are smaller 3/4- to one-inch-diameter hoses that retain the round cross-section form, even when not under pressure. They are not stored flat, but rather carried on a reel connected to the fire pumper, and are used for mop-up operations and fighting small fires.

When not in use, fire hoses are rolled for transport and storage, with the most common technique on fire trucks being the straight role. The hose is laid flat, with the male end that connects with the water source rolled tightly and evenly toward the other end.

The donut roll is suited for situations where the firefighter carries the hose and deploys it from the roll. The hose is first folded in half, with the folded end rolled in the direction of the open ends. As the firefighter carries it, the hose unrolls into position. Larger hoses may require a twin donut roll, with both ends of the flat-laid hose rolled toward one another, creating a pair of side-by-side rolls. In cases where firefighters will be carrying hoses over their shoulders, they use a self-locking donut roll. This involves creating an extra loop of hose at the start, which functions as a carrying handle.

The horse shoe roll is advantageous for rapid deployment of larger hoses. In this roll, the hose is laid out flat, with the two ends folded toward the middle in a horseshoe shape. The folded ends are then rolled toward the horseshoe bend, which delivers a compact and easy way of handling the long and bulky hose.Fire hoses are a critical element of firefighting and are used for transporting water, foam, and other types of flame retardant under high pressure. Hoses are connected to water pumps or fire trucks in outdoor settings, or are permanently connected to plumbing or standpipe systems indoors. Operational pressures are typically in the eight to 20 bar (116 to 290 psi) range, and most are rated to withstand burst pressures up to 72 bar (1036 psi). Fire hoses are made up of a jacket and lining, with the jacket being either single- or multi-layered and crafted of materials such as plain or twill-woven high-tenacity polyester silk and polyester staple fiber, or nylon. The coating tends to be a material that boosts durability and strength, such as PVC or rubber. The outer layer is able to withstand both UV light exposure and abrasion, while the inner layer is designed for compatibility with the substance it carries. Traditional hoses are primarily made of rubber, and are heavier and have less heat resistance. Hose diameters are commonly in the 3/4-inch to six-inch range, and those with diameters of more than 3.5 inches are called supply hoses. These are employed in transporting water at high pressure and high volume from a source such as a fire hydrant to the fire engine’s pump (or another forward position). By contrast, hoses with smaller diameters are known as attack hoses. These are designed for easy carrying and maneuvering into place by firefighters, and are used to directly spray fires with high-pressure liquids. Hose lengths range from 30 to 50 meters, which provides sufficient reach for operations such as entering into structures or traversing extensive distances. Thick-walled and covered in rubber, booster hoses are smaller 3/4- to one-inch-diameter hoses that retain the round cross-section form, even when not under pressure. They are not stored flat, but rather carried on a reel connected to the fire pumper, and are used for mop-up operations and fighting small fires. When not in use, fire hoses are rolled for transport and storage, with the most common technique on fire trucks being the straight role. The hose is laid flat, with the male end that connects with the water source rolled tightly and evenly toward the other end. The donut roll is suited for situations where the firefighter carries the hose and deploys it from the roll. The hose is first folded in half, with the folded end rolled in the direction of the open ends. As the firefighter carries it, the hose unrolls into position. Larger hoses may require a twin donut roll, with both ends of the flat-laid hose rolled toward one another, creating a pair of side-by-side rolls. In cases where firefighters will be carrying hoses over their shoulders, they use a self-locking donut roll. This involves creating an extra loop of hose at the start, which functions as a carrying handle. The horse shoe roll is advantageous for rapid deployment of larger hoses. In this roll, the hose is laid out flat, with the two ends folded toward the middle in a horseshoe shape. The folded ends are then rolled toward the horseshoe bend, which delivers a compact and easy way of handling the long and bulky hose.

[yoyik456]

bolt GB5782-86 35 Steam Turbine LP casing Steam turbine parts

bolt GB5782-86 35 Steam Turbine LP casing Steam turbine parts YOYIK is a research and development, production, sales, import agents in one of the manufacturing and processing enterprises. Our company was established in 2004. For more than 20 years, our company's products are widely used in electric power, petroleum, chemical, environmental protection, refractory materials, metallurgy, fire fighting equipment, natural gas, electronics, nuclear industry and other fields. Our company is willing to work with colleagues from all walks of life at home and abroad wholeheartedly cooperation to create a better future! Deyang YOYIK power plant, steel spare parts are as follows: Yoyik can offer many spare parts for power plants as below: #DF-bolt GB5782-86 35 Steam Turbine LP casing-DF hydraulic line filter element 1300R020BN3HC/-V water separator filter SGLQ-1000A filter FBX (TZ)-63*10 hydraulic filter housing FBX(TZ)-800×1 oil filter ZU-A25*20BS filter TZX-E100*3Q multi cartridge filter housing LH0110R20BN/HC filter TZX2-100*3 filter water DLS-500 pp filter water SG-125/0.8 replacement filter WU-A630×180FS water filter housing cartridge SGLQ-6000A filter pressure hydraulic housing TXX-100×80 inline water filter SWF4 water filter housing cartridge SG-65/0.7 melt blown cartridge filter DLS-300 pp filter element SL-12/50 industrial water filters SG65/0.7 filter hydraulic servo WY300×20Q2 pp spun filter SG125/0.8 return oil filter ZU-E250×20FS oil filter ZU-H160*20S filter TZX2W-63*80 activated carbon filter cartridge honeycomb CFRX-100×30 oil filter XU-A400*30FS Filter 21FC-5124-160*600/25 filter LH0660D20BN/HC oil filter tool HFX-250×20Q oil filter making machine 0160R005BN3HC/-V cross reference hydraulic filter AZ3E303-04D01V/-W jacking oil pump auto back-flushing oil filter ZCL-1-450B filter GX-40*5 filter TFX (ZX)-100*80 hydraulic spin on return line filter WU160×100-J oil filter machine price  T150×915 filter HXW-400*80 bolt GB5782-86 35 Steam Turbine LP casing pleated filter cartridge DP2B01EA10V/-W oil filter Q3U-A160*5S hydraulic oil filter pump with cart CFAS-100×180 filter ST718-100-03ZXCO hydraulic duplex oil filter HQ25.300.18Z hydraulic oil filter cartridge FAX(NX)-100×5 filter SZ-150X595-SS string wound filter SL12/50 hydraulic oil filter element 0508.951T1901.AW012 oil filter XUI-A100*30S water cleaning filter MSL-31 pp spun filter cartridge DSG-125/08 filter cartridge housing HX.BH-63×40 oil filter cartridge TXXI-10×80 chemical filter cartridge JX-63×180 pp filter water KLS-65T/80 filter XJL-03-02 filter tank hydraulic GX-250×3 oil filter cartridge 73D.470Z-6 centrifugal oil filter TZX2I-100×10 element filter PA-250/100V filter SFAX-25*20 oil filter WU-H40*50S return oil filter GX-25×20 pp filter housing WFF-150-1 oil filter machine FBX(TZ)-40×10 replacement filter 18P110QBT1KG121 lube filter QF6803G40ZXS-NQ water filter price SGLQB-1000 water filter straw SGLQ-6000A oil filter change L2.1100B-002 filter cartridge HC9700FKZ9Z shaft sealing filter KLS-50U/80 PN1.6 ion-exchange resin filter DRF-8001SA hydraulic oil filter ZL366-25×5 oil filter tool FBX-800×10 bolt GB5782-86 35 Steam Turbine LP casing DFYLSYC-2024-5-16-A

[krunaldigitalads]

What is Fire Fighting Pumps? Who is the best manufacturer of Fire Fighting Pumps?

A Fire Fighting Pump is a part of a fire sprinkler system’s water supply and can be powered by electricity, diesel or steam. These pumps provides water flow at a high pressure to the sprinkler system risers and hose stand pipes. The Fire Fighting Pump intake is either connected to the public underground water supply piping, or a static water source. A fire pump is tested and listed for its use specifically for fire service.

If you are looking for Fire Fighting Pump, We have been offering ISO-9001:2008 certified Fire Fighting Pump. We are the best Fire Fighting Pump manufacturer and Supplier in the industry providing premium mud pumps.

Applications of Fire Fighting Pump

Irrigation — Sprinkler Installations

Water Supply

Pressure Boosting — Multi stories buildings, Hydro — Pneumatic

Water Works Fire Fighting — Mining wash down Applications

Hydraulic press / Circuits transfer & circulation hot & cold water

Advantages of Fire Fighting Pump

Fire Fighting Pump are made with flame proof / explosion proof motor. Fire Fighting Pump are customized and are made for self priming type, centrifugal type, mud pump type, gear pump, or any other type pump.

Our Products

Gear Pumps: 

Flow Meter

Lobe Pump

Self Priming Pump

Centrifugal Pumps

Sewage Pump

Mud pump

Barrel Pump

For more details Click here:- https://www.sspumpsindia.com

[deltaponline]

New break tank package booster sets for fire fighting meet DIN 14462: 2023-07

  At the end of 2023 KSB launched a new generation of its HyaDuo break tank package booster sets for fire fighting on the market. The sets meet the revised DIN 14462: 2023-07 standard for fire-fighting systems and break tank package booster sets for wall hydrant systems. The extended standard contains a number of changes that majorly impacted the design details of the fully automatic break tank package booster set for fire fighting.

The redundancy, in particular, that is stipulated for the supply of fire-fighting water means that all control and measuring elements now have to be doubled or redundant. The HyaDuo 2 D FL and HyaDuo 2 D FL Compact sets also feature two inlet devices ensuring the hygienic separation of drinking water and fire-fighting water to EN 1717 type AB. The effective volume of the break tank is now 600 litres to compensate for any fluctuations in inflow rate and reliably supply the pumps with water for one minute. Newly designed suction elbows allow full use of the tank volume. A ball valve near the bottom of the tank enables the operator to regularly check the function of mains water supply. A window for fill level indication shows the water level at all times. To facilitate manoeuvring when installing the set, the hydraulic unit can be separated from the tank unit. The master switch is now outside the control cabinet as the new edition of DIN 14462 requires the entire place of installation to be protected against unauthorised access. In the event of fire, HyaDuo 2 D FL Compact supplies wall hydrant systems with up to 36 cubic metres of fire-fighting water per hour with only one duty pump. The sets have been developed for supplying fire-fighting water to protect multiple dwellings, residential and office buildings, multi-storey car parks and hospitals, for example. In the event of a lack of water, the new products from KSB now incorporate the option of either stopping the pumps or continuing operation. The default setting is for the pumps to stop if lack of water occurs. The operator can deactivate this function by removing a wire jumper, which means the pumps will keep running even in the event of a lack of water. The fully automatic break tank package booster set for fire fighting of the type series HyaDuo 2 D FL Compact is fitted with two fully redundant pumps, each of which has got its own power and control circuit. Their redundant control systems continuously monitor pressure switches and limit switches for broken wires and short circuits. www.ksb.com Read the full article

[camslightstories]

Tolerate it - Part 8

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers.

Notes: Well I hope you like it, part 9 is going to be up on Saturday, i know it may not be the best one but I think is actually better than part 7. I hope you guys enjoy! Thank you so much for your support, it feels unreal. 

I loved reading about your theories and opinions. I will gladly received any feedback, comment, opinion or request. I hope you guys a have day! Thank you for reading! I hope you guys like it!

Taglist: @multi-images @captain-josslett

Russian Translations:

А Вы, Олли? - Do you, ollie?

Ты не сказал им, не так ли? - You didn't tell them, did you?

The darkness of the night made the hideouts easier. The persistent sound of the music coming through different places made it harder to focus. The cold and loneliness of the night made the two superheroes teams stand secretly behind the warehouse. 

Standing ready for the signal to invade the place, Oliver Queen and Kara Danvers, best known as the Green Arrow and Supergirl. With comms on their ears as Lena and Felicity gave information about the event. Alex arriving with Jonn, Diggle, Nia, and Brainly ready to enter the place. 

The Danvers sister shared a look of protectiveness and caring, as Felicity gave the signal to enter. The archer looked back at his friends before entering first, with the Kryptonian no long behind. 

With the lights off, they both spoke up. Oliver throws a bomb arrow to the middle of the warehouse. “You have failed this city!”

“Why do you guys do this, knowing we are going to stop you?”And your sister getting a look from your best friend for creating a pun. 

As both of the teams caught the majority of the people in question for minutes, the criminal that had been terrorizing National City and Star city was still on the loose. As both of your sisters ran where Sinclair’s bodyguards were being put down by a blonde. Oliver stood on the top of the stage watching the whole interaction with Anatoly by his side. 

Kara felt her world stop as she heard it again. The blood pumping sound coming from your familiar chest. Alex stopping looking back at her, as the blonde stumbled with her feet, slowly falling into the floor as tears started to come out. Desperately looking around the place with a foggy mind trying to find you. Alex tried to ground her pulling her into her, whispering calming words to your sisters. 

Your best friend had already recognized you, as you flipped the table and tried to cover, throwing a tranquilizer arrow immediately, hoping to make it before Roulette could shoot you. As Kara looked up where her friend stood throwing the arrow in direction of the tattooed woman, where you stood.

Shaking Alex as she got up. She watched Roulette firing at you and hitting you, making you fall to the floor. Your redhead sister looking at her confused before your name fell out of her lips as a whisper “Y/N”

All of the comms became quiet, for a second as all of them shared a look. Your archer best friend, already with you in his arms taking your pulse. As he put pressure into the wound, looking for a pulse, finding a faint one. He screamed, “We need to get her to our place now!”

You on the arms of your sister, with the rest of the teams not long behind. Some of them are still in shock. Alex and Oliver running into the medical bed where your ex-girlfriend and Felicity stood connecting you to the machines. 

Oliver rips your dress where the wound was located, only to find an open scar and various scars in the rest of your chest. Looking over to where Felicity stood checking your vitals, recognizing the tattoo that stood on the top right of your chest. He sighed, before grabbing Alex from her shoulders getting her out of the space where you were laying. “Alex! I need you to trust me okay!?”

“I'm a doctor and she is my sister, Oliver let me pass!” Alex yelled angrily, trying to push past the archer. 

Oliver looked at her before responding as he jogged to the med space again “I can't! You are not stable and we can help her, like this you can't”

Your oldest sister stood angrily and went to enter again only to be stopped by Kara evolving her in a hug. Both of them sat on the floor as the angry tears left their eyes, blaming themselves for the situation. 

-----

The pain was the only thing that you could feel as you started to gain consciousness. The brightness hitting your eyes the moment you blinked. With a clouded mind, you slowly began to look at your surroundings, when you felt various things attached to your body. 

Slowly closing and opening your eyes, as they adjusted to the white light that illuminated the room. You went to move, only to feel the IV in your arm and the tight bandage in your abdomen.

Groaning internally as the pain increased. You heard faintly familiar voices that you couldn't make of. The cold of the place made you curse internally as it felt that it was increasing the headache. Trying to clench your fits but failing when you felt all of your strength leave your body. 

Tossing around the bed, you noticed your cuffed hand into the bed. Furrowing your eyes as you look back now, in more pain and consciousness at your surroundings. Closed walls, small medical instruments, bright surroundings. Noticing your dress on the couch you looked down to see a familiar sweatshirt and shorts only to make you sigh in annoyance, putting the dots together. 

Moving around the bed, you grabbed the V1 and took it out slowly, putting it on the table beside you. Breathing multiple times, gaining all of the strength you could have the moment, you dislocated your thumb crying in silence as you did before getting your hand out of the cuffs.

Getting up slowly, you tried to look for your gun or anything in the space, only to find none. Breathing heavily the moment you tried to walk as the pain in your abdomen overwhelmed you and made you get support on the wall. Trying to conceal now your emotional and physical feelings you clenched your fits only to bandage around them. 

Nodding after gaining a part of your self-control you started to walk out of the med bed just to see Oliver with his arms crossed over his chest, stopping you.“Y/N, can't let you do that”

“For a former assassin, you do not take the right precautions, Queen” You responded with venom in your voice, trying to walk past your best friend only to be stopped as he got in your way. Showing your free hands. 

“I got things to do, and places to be, so get out of my way Oliver” You hissed when the archer made no move, and only stepped closer to you. Oliver examined your face as he did.

Your eyes that once were full of light now filled with darkness and wall. Your face that was once filled with smiles, now it was filled with voidness. Your once warm and caring expressions were now blank. A small scar on your cheek, almost unnoticeable if you weren't in the light. Everything had changed, and for the first time in a while, Oliver felt like he was just back on the island without any hope to save you, you were long gone and he knew it. 

“Where do you think you are going to go like that?”He claimed as he grabbed your shoulder, walking in the direction of a separate room. 

You concluded the struggle against his hold, even though the pain increased as you sat abruptly on the couch. “To take the fucking smirk out of Roulettes face with satisfaction”

You murmured loud enough for him to hear, as you moved around trying to get comfortable so the pain running through your veins could go away “Don't touch me”

“What are you gonna do? Fight me?” He sarcastically said before leaning on the doorway, watching your every move. 

“I may be not scared of anything anymore, Oliver but I’m not stupid enough to fight you,” You said before moving to lay on the couch. Ignoring his every try to speak to you. 

The silence became part of you in the past years, it helped to control your emotions, your wounds, and yourself. It became your solution to your problems. Now with it by your side, it refugees you as time passes. 

Oliver stood there for two whole hours, trying to find solutions in his thoughts. Memories that were buried inside came to play as he tried to find anything to get you back. But he knew that if you got into the Bratva organization there wasn't a single thing you haven't been through, and your scars confirmed his theories. 

All of the peace and calm was broken when your redhead sister burst through the door. Infuriated, and with a resentful expression on her face. Her breath got in her throat as she clenched her fits when she saw you. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Your oldest sister said, trying to hide the broken tone coming from her voice. Standing in front of you with fear in her eyes as she did, the fear of losing you again, the fear you saw more than once in her’s and Kara's eyes in any type of crisis. 

Kara came through the door no long behind, calmer than Alex but still tense. Both of your sisters shared a look when your silence became your answer. Ignoring them you kept looking at the ceiling, with a blank emotion. 

Kara walked closer to you, putting a hand on Alex as the redhead started to yell at you for leaving, for getting shot, for killing someone, for everything. Trying to relive the madness she had for you since you left. Your blonde sister shut Alex up, as she sat on the floor facing you like you did when you were kids.

With legs crossed and hands on your laps in front of the couch, when your mom wasn't home. Your sisters and you talked about what was wrong when you were kids. There wasn't anything you would hide from each other even when you moved to National City for college after so much time of disconnection between you three, it became natural. 

But the two of them sat there for hours and you didn't even move as the time passed, the only thing you did was breathe and stare at the ceiling. It was like you were trained to be in silence, you were completely void and both of your older sisters noticed. 

Trying to defuse the tension every now and then, Kara or Alex would speak up to ask you a question, but you remained silent. The rest of the teams stood in the Arrow cave, some of them more worried and confused than the others. Felicity had already spoken to Oliver. She had noticed the tattoo on your arm which did not pass by her remembering the same tattoo her husband once had on his left shoulder. 

Lena buried herself in her hands, as she tried to make sense of the situation. Many things had happened in the last few years, and many mistakes she had made, now we're basically feeling impossible to recover. Her foggy mind and unbalanced feelings all over the place.

Pulling herself up, Alex walked out of the room after sharing a look with Kara, when you kept silent and motionless. Oliver, Felicity, and Lena walked up to her as soon as she got out, with tears in her eyes, the redhead went to speak but was beaten by the archer. “She is not talking, is she?”

Alex nodded slowly before getting out of the way so the four of them could walk into the room. 

Noticing the now five standing figures in front of you, you remained in silence. The pain somehow became bearable as time passed, and with the control of your physical and mental feelings. You were basically the same person, Oliver once was. 

You seated back and examined each one of them. Oliver remained with a simple expression of worries, with his arms crossed, trying to find the words to get you to talk. Felicity stood on the far right with the table in her hand, as she searched for any part of your old self. Alex stood with her arms crossed, tears threatening to come out but still a desperate expression on her face. Kara was closer than the rest, with hope in her eyes, but a flash of pain and resentment in them too. Opening and closing her mouth multiple times as she cleaned the angry tears coming from her eyes. Lena stood upright looking at you like a ghost. Gripping to the sleeves of her sweater as she stared, biting her lip while trying to make the tears not come out.

“What do you want?” You claimed as you played with your hands, glancing at each one of them. Oliver remained calm, and not surprised when your cold and indifferent tone of voice hit them. While the three women felt their breathing get caught in their throats. 

Your best friend took a step closer to you, with a challenging look in his eyes as both of you connected glances. He was pushing your buttons so you would overwhelm yourself, but you knew better than that. You had seen him and your sisters do the same thing a lot of times, so you played along. “You know what we want”

“А Вы, Олли?” You said not looking anywhere else but his eyes. Your sisters and Felicity looked shocked, as you spoke while Lena understood you perfectly, furrowing her eyebrow in confusion. What were you hiding? 

When the archer didn't respond, you took your turn again, this time with a sarcastic chuckled as you did. “Ты не сказал им, не так ли?”

Oliver looked at you annoyed before rubbing his temples, Lena got closer only to be stopped when your oldest sister angrily yelled at you. “What the hell happen to you?”

If she would have done it three years ago, you would have flinched. Surprising your sisters and Lena when you didn't. Instead, you looked void, and with your eyes challenging Alex with determination and calmness with nothing to fear. No one had ever challenged your sister, everyone feared the redhead, except for you.

You had lost all of your fears in the past years. You weren't scared of death or anything else. You became blank, it didn't matter to you, if you died or if you were alive. You didn't have anything to live for, but you also didn't have anything to die for. So you survived. 

“Nothing of your damn business, Alexandra” You responded going back to laying on the couch. Your two sisters and ex-girlfriend exchanged looks, having a silent conversation. You had never called her that, it was always, Alex, Al, Allie, Bear Bear. That scared the hell out of both of them, tears coming out as they walked out of the room slamming the door as they did.

You weren't there, you weren't yourself, you weren't the person who had once loved them infinitely, you weren't the person they had once comforted after having a nightmare, you weren't the person who danced and sung around the kitchen as you cooked, you weren't the person who took their camera everywhere so you could captivate moments with them, you weren't the person who was an absolute child during each holiday, you weren't the person who would drop everything to make you sure they were okay, you weren't the person who cried themselves to sleep when you had disappointed them, you weren't the person who tried to be funny, you weren't the person who was distinguished for being clumsy.

You weren't the person they once knew, you were gone and deep down they all knew it.

[the-original-b]

Archangel Chapter 11: Talent Scouting

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 3 of 9 (Previous Chapter | The Beginning)

Word Count: c. 2,600

Summary: Khai pressures Krueger to contain a rapidly deteriorating state of affairs.

Krueger stepped through the glass doors of the Sixth Avenue office—dressed in a commando sweater and dark jeans with classy shoes under his pea coat—and headed towards the conference room.

Danielle straightened up behind her desk as she noticed him walk past her. “They’re waiting for you inside, Mr. Krueger,” she said.

He thanked her with a nod and proceeded down the hallway, past Khai’s old office which CJ Silvio now worked out of, and entered the conference room to join her and Everett to discuss their next steps after the events at Pharaohs a few days ago. Visible on a computer monitor at the end of the table was Hayden.

“Gentlemen, Miss Khai.” he greeted them. “Is Mr. Desmoulins joining us?”

“We’re ironing out the connection now,” Khai noted. She wore a dark suit with a white blouse and black peep toe pumps. “It’s one thing to set up a video call, but another entirely to set one up with him.”

“The man lives in military grade encryption,” Everett added. Today he wore a conservative blue suit with a pale gray shirt underneath.

“It’s how he’s stayed invisible for so long…” she added sotto voce. She tapped a few more keys on the laptop Hayden’s face was on. “Got it,” she said, turning the device toward the other men in the room. “Brandon, can you hear us now?”

“Loud and clear,” Brandon voice confirmed through the speakers.

“Perfect. In the room you can see I’m here with Mr. Krueger and Henry Everett. Also joining us via teleconference is Mr. Hayden.”

“Hey, everyone.”

“Greetings,” Hayden said. “Good to see you’re all well.” He folded his arms atop the desk he sat behind.

“Same to you, sir.” Khai said, sitting down and facing the laptop. Krueger and Everett took their places standing behind her. “Have you heard any updates from Dana and Charles?”

“No, and that’s what concerns me. Karin’s seen a steady increase in the Dragon Tears’ popularity in her territory, but she and I have been in regular contact; and Herman’s reported no problems in his area. The others have had their hands full for months, and now that I haven’t heard from them since last week the rest of us are more than a little concerned.”

“That bad?”

“It isn’t just the drugs, it’s the problems they invite. Police budgets have been slashed nationwide, and the hardest-hit cities have turned to the private sector to compensate.”

“Castle Security Solutions,” Krueger noted. “I’ve seen a news story on them the other day.”

“It’s no coincidence they’re expanding while the Dragon Tears become more popular,” Khai noted.

“Are you suggesting they’re connected, Miss Khai?” Hayden queried.

“I’m saying there may be a causality, sir; that somebody stands to profit from the expanse of one or both of the two forces choking the Partners today.”

“I agree,” Everett added. “And thanks to Krueger, I think we know who.” He looked at the monitor. “Mr. Desmoulins?”

“Special Agent Peter Cross,” Brandon said. “Born August 14th 1966, UT San Antonio class of ’88. Eight years with the FBI, then transferred to the DEA in ’96. He spent three years there, then moved to ATF. He changed hats a third time and joined the CIA in 2002, after which the records stop.”

Krueger arched his brow. “The United States Government?” He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot.

“We don’t know that for sure, but it does make sense,” Brandon mused. “If the CIA is sponsoring an effort to destroy the Partners, they’d want somebody like Cross at the tip of the spear.”

“Not their wheelhouse,” Khai commented. “That’s more the FBI’s job.”

“Also doesn’t make sense that his story stops after his start with the CIA,” Everett noted, his hand on his chin. “I get the feeling there’s more to this Peter Cross than the records show.”

“Especially since the buyer named him,” Krueger added, just loud enough for the others to hear.  He leaned on the back of a chair to Khai’s left. “Is it possible he’s changed sides, started working for another criminal organization?”

“Possible, but not likely; the only other major player in the region is the Company,” Khai said. “And after the ordeal with Osiris, they’re hardly on my radar these days.”

“Mine either,” Hayden said. He brought his knuckles to his lip as he looked away from the camera, breaking eye contact as he considered the new information. “Do we know if Cross is operating in the Tri-State?”

“I found an office in Long Island City,” Brandon said. “Registered to a Rook Capital. He’s listed as Operations Manager.”

Krueger and Khai shot each other looks.

“Then I think that’s where we should start,” Hayden concluded. “Mr. Krueger, head to the Rook Capital office tonight.” Hayden lowered his hand again. “Surveil the building and report back what you find”

“Understood,” Krueger said.

“If I may, gentlemen,” Brandon suggested, “I think I have a better idea. I wrote a script that clones a computer’s internal drive and writes it to another location. I call it the Intruder.”

“The one used at Miles Orham’s cabin?”

“The very same. I think we can use it again here, but we’ll need an access point for it to work.”

Hayden nodded. “I agree,” he said. “That is a better idea. Mr. Krueger, if you can gain entry to the office and upload Mr. Desmoulins’ program into their server room, I believe we’ll gather all the information we need.”

“I’ll get it done, Mr. Hayden,” Krueger said with a nod.

“Excellent. We’ll reconvene after we’ve made more sense of the data.” He reached for something off-camera. “Good day.” His visage disappeared immediately afterward, and the four remaining people on the conference call shared a moment of silence.

“I’ll make the needed modifications to the Intruder,” Brandon finally said. “Krueger, can you come by later today to pick up the drive?”

“Absolutely. I’ll get the address from you while I’m there as well.”

“Awesome. Let me know when you’re on the way. Mr. Everett, Liz, take care.” And just like that, Brandon Desmoulins disconnected from the conference, and Khai shut her laptop before turning to face the two other men in the room with her.

“Well,” she said.

“It sounds self-explanatory to me,” Everett said. “We plant the Intruder, wait for it to do its job, and decide our next steps after we analyze the data.”

“We might run out of time before then.”

Everett shot her an inquisitive look.

“Rook Capital… Rook, the chess piece.”

“Castle,” Everett concluded. “The private contractors?”

“Not a doubt in my mind.”

“I caught it too,” Krueger added. “It can’t be coincidence that Cross is part of their office in Queens, he has to be connected to the private contractors coming up in cities across the country.”

“All the evidence points to that,” Khai said. “And if all is as it seems then there’s no time to delay here…” She stood up from her seat, adjusting her glasses. “We have to kill him.”

“Liz,” Everett said, raising a hand to chest-level. “You’re talking about killing a possible U.S. Government agent. That’s a sure-fire way of drawing attention that we cannot afford.”

“It’s also the only way we can guarantee avoiding the same thing that’s happening to Dana and Charles right now, and to stop whatever’s brewing from destroying the whole organization…” She took a breath, placing her hands on her hips and shutting her eyes. She opened them again and met Krueger’s gaze. “Milo, go see CJ in the armory.”

“Liz,” Krueger began.

She started toward her desk at the head of the conference room, by the window overlooking Sixth Avenue. “It won’t be easy, but if you can get in and out before they know what happened, I think we can slip the noose before they get a chance to tighten it.” She took a seat and woke her desktop computer.

“Liz, I was ordered—”

“It’ll be tight, but there’s a safe house in Sunnyside, on 40th Street. You can lie low there while things settle down—”

“Liz..!” He got her attention.

Khai looked away from the monitor to face him.

“That isn’t the job,” he specified. “You heard Mr. Hayden, this is strictly an infiltration assignment.”

“I did,” she said, “but it may be too late to do anything about whatever facts we dig up by the time we analyze them all. We need to solve the problem before it becomes one.”

“And I agree with you there,” Krueger said, leaving his place at the table to approach her. “But this is different—you’re talking about having me remove a possible Federal Agent.” He stopped barely two feet from the edge of her desk, then placed his hands onto the desk top. “A long time ago I stood right here in front of your predecessor, and promised to kill him in his sleep if he ever ordered me to do something I’m not comfortable with.”

Khai didn’t take her eyes from his, even as she leaned back into the chair and uncrossed her legs. She wasn’t even aware of the distance she tried to create between them until she blinked, realizing what she was actually feeling wasn’t shock, but fear.

“I don’t want to have to revisit that threat.” Krueger finally said. He maintained his flat tone, deadly serious. “Least of all to you… but if I have to, I will.” He straightened his posture again, looking down at her. “I was issued an order, Liz. And I don’t intend to deviate from it.” Krueger turned on his heel and headed toward the exit, his hands in his coat pockets. On his way out of the office he acknowledged Danielle again and passed through the glass doors to the elevator down to Sixth Avenue.

Everett shuffled uncomfortably after Krueger left. “That wasn’t something I should have been in the room for. Sorry, Liz.”

“No, you’re fine,” she reassured him. “Really…” She let a quiet sigh escape her lips. “You know, that’s the closest thing to a fight he and I have had in the almost two years we’ve been together… I was always nervous about that, but now I think I was scared of the wrong thing.”

Everett followed her eyes darting across the top of her desk. He noticed her reach for a pen and absentmindedly tap its point on an old post-it note. He’d seen that look on her face before, and could practically see the gears turning in her head as she worked through what must have been a problem she’d revisited and resolved dozens of times already. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she declared, trying to convince herself more than him. “Yeah, it’s just… easy to forget who he is sometimes.”

“A good-hearted man?”

Khai looked up at him and, after a brief pause, exhaled. She shut her eyes and put the pen back down, then brought her hand back up to remove her glasses and rest them by the pen. She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and first finger then pinched the bridge of her nose before allowing her hand to slide down her face to her mouth as she opened her eyes again, staring ahead blankly.

Everett looked over his shoulder to the conference table and headed over to retrieve a chair which he placed in front of Khai’s desk. “Don’t tell me,” he began, sitting down. “You’re considering ending your relationship with him; you’re listing the pros and cons in your head and trying to come up with any good reason to let him go on your own terms before you’re forced to make that choice.”

Khai quietly laughed and shook her head. “That obvious, huh?”

“You may as well be an open book,” he returned, smirking.

Khai relaxed her smile and brought both her hands together, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. She shut her eyes again and placed her face into her palms, exhaling slowly. She interlaced her fingers again, looking over her knuckles at him.

“And now, you’re realizing he’s not only the best thing to happen to the Branch, but also to you.”

Khai nodded. “I know,” she said. “And as much as I try to rationalize and poke holes in the pros, I can’t find a single reason to make it worth breaking up with him in the end.” She dropped her hands and turned her head to look him in the eye. “But I’m scared, Henry,” she admitted. “I hesitated even bringing him to the Brooklynite that night. I didn’t think I’d fall for him…” She shrugged. “But I did. A kind, charming, good-looking guy with a tragic past; I didn’t stand a chance,” she laughed. “I ignored my doubts and let myself get closer to him. No matter how many times I think I made a mistake with him, then realize I didn’t, I still feel like I’m going to screw this up somehow. And that terrifies me.”

Everett gave a half-suppressed chuckle as he considered his next words. “Forty years ago, I think I heard those same words come out of your father’s mouth when he tried to talk himself out of proposing to your mother.”

Khai laughed again. “I guess the apple plopped straight down,” she jested. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him he was the smartest person I knew. Then I chastised him for not being able to see the obvious choice,” he added with a smirk. “You inherited his brilliant mind, Liz. The two of you work through problems the same way—you consider all the approaches, all the variables, and by the time you reach your solution you realize you knew the right answer from the beginning.” He shrugged. “This is no different. I think you made your decision before we even started talking about this.”

Khai opened her mouth to offer a rebuttal, but stopped herself when she realized he was right. Sure Krueger caught her off guard with his parting words, but he said what he did because of who he was and—more importantly—who he wasn’t. Khai rested her cheek in her hand as she considered Krueger, weighing his numerous good qualities against his few bad ones. She tried to justify splitting with him in light of any hypothetical and actual threats to their relationship, and a soft smile washed over her face as she realized she couldn’t.

“There’s a reason you invited him to dinner that night, Liz” Everett concluded, leaning forward. “Remember that.”

~~

Krueger headed down Sixth Avenue and crossed at 51st Street to head toward the garage where he parked his car. He slowed after he made it across the street, then sighed as he stopped in his tracks. He stood off to one side to let others pass him as he slid his hands into his coat pockets and stared absentmindedly into the sky, re-playing his meeting with Khai, Everett, Brandon, and Hayden in his head over and again as he considered the information. After a while he fished into his coat pocket to find his mobile phone. “Ich werde es bereuen,” he said to himself as he dialed the number when he found it in his list of contacts.

“Mr. Krueger!” CJ Silvio’s voice on the other end answered. “What can I do for you?”

“I need something precise and powerful.” he said. “Last-minute.”

“How powerful are we talking?”

“Hole-puncher.”

“Uh…” Silvio shuffled audibly on the other end. “I think I can put a list together. Rifles or handguns?”

“The latter. The quieter the better.”

“Oh, well that narrows it down… I’ll have to see if we have any of those left in the armory.”

“Meet me there in thirty minutes.” Krueger ended the call and headed for the garage on 51st to his car.

(Masterlist | Chapter 12)

[antihero-writings]

Inverted Recurrence 

Fandom: Castlevania Symphony of the Night (but with the Netflix series characterizations)

Summary: It's been three hundred years since Alucard saw Trevor and Sypha. When he sees a version of them in the inverted coliseum...he just can't seem to win the fight against them. 

So he loses. Over and over.

(The inverted coliseum boss fight from Symphony of the Night, but with the Netflix series characters)

Notes: First of all, warning!! There will be swearing in this fic!!

This is a fic for the game Symphony of the Night. However I used the characterizations of the characters from the Netflix series. This is also why Grant is not present, even though he's present in the actual fight. (I wanted to include him, especially because they took him out of the show...but because they took him out of the show, and because I have yet to play Dracula's Curse, I didn't feel like I could properly characterize him to have him in the scene.)

If you enjoyed this I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a comment! They make my week, and really help motive me to keep writing multi-chapter fics like this one!

I’ll also post this on my Castlevania blog @symphonyofthewrite if you want to check it out there!! 

Chapter 1:

Alucard hit the ground of the save room…which happened to be the ceiling, breath and heartbeat crawling through his chest like fire ants.

“Well…fuck.”

******

Fire consumed the werewolves’ snarls, echoing through the stone hall, and he continued up the corridor without a glance back.

Alucard paused to think; count the rooms.

He wiped the blood off his sword—well, not his sword, that is to say, he still didn’t have his mother’s sword back from that dickhead, Death, so he was using one he had borrowed from one of those green skeletons upon its second death.

“Are you prepared?” he asked his fairy familiar. “If my thinking is correct we’re coming upon the main part of the coliseum. This could get”—he adjusted his grip on the sword and inclined his head to the side. “Interesting.”

She folded her arms and bowed. “I am prepared for whatever comes our way, Master Alucard.”

He grinned back. “Good.”

He marched forward, and, sure enough, the upside-down version of the coliseum center revealed itself. The same room where he had fought the Shaft-possessed-Richter in the right-side-up castle. The sconces spilled blue fire endlessly to the ground, fixed to columns that didn’t reach the ‘floor’, in a circle around an overthrown throne. A throne which held no one now, as if he were a gladiator in an upturned universe, a slave of the games, watched by an invisible sadistic god, hosting this for their own pleasure.

The doors shut themselves behind, and in front, of him with a loud thump, closing off his exits.

Yup. Interesting.

He stood on guard, aiming the sword at the pentagonal spinning coffins in the center of the room, his mind cycling through what might step out;

Let’s see, skeletons? Zombies? Ghosts? No it’d be something more advanced than that. Maybe dragon would walk out? Or maybe he’d fight the embodiment of of emperor Nero himself? That might be fun.

When their lids creaked forward, and the first enemy stepped out it did not, in fact, have rotting skin, or a malevolent grin…It looked like a man.

A man with brown hair, blue eyes—one of which a scar fell across—sauntered over to Alucard, the Belmont crest gleaming on his chest.

Alucard froze, eyes widening.

The man groaned when he saw Alucard—but not in an undead way, more like a man who was annoyed—and, unlike many of the monsters, he spoke:

“Well if it isn’t the cockwart, Alucard.”

Alucard fought werewolves and demons, things that spit fire, things that turned him to stone, things that would eat his soul out if given the chance, and he didn’t even break a sweat. Not much could make his heart hammer these days.

But this—

“Trevor! What have I told you about speaking your mind?!” Alucard had been so focused on Trevor he hadn’t noticed the other enemy: a woman in blue smacked Trevor on the back of the head.

“Uhh that it’s what everyone should do it all the time?” he rubbed his head.

She pulled on his ear.

“Okay, okay! Easy on the moneymaker!”

Alucard’s eyes stayed open wide, as if he was afraid if he closed them they’d disappear and he’d remember he was dreaming. The golden irises oscillating beneath waves of memory, the sword at his side twitching.

“Master Alucard?” the fairy’s voice was muffled behind the sound of his heartbeat.

He fought reanimated flesh, and first-animated metal, he fought things straight out of books, things he wished were mere fantasy, and never once did he stand paralyzed.

But this…this made his blood thump cold and relentless in his ears. This made his heart start churning with questions, his head ache with memory. This made his throat tighten with sentimentality long forgotten.

The fairy couldn’t hear the words he breathed.

Three hundred years is a long time. Even if he spent most of it asleep, time has a way of weighing heavy on the chest.

They were arguing amongst themselves, while the fairy was asking him questions, but he couldn’t hear any of them. As if he was beneath many tons of water, the pressure slowly crushing him.

Being immortal has never been the blessing humanity thought. Watching your friends, your family, die is hard enough, but when you know you won’t be joining them wherever they’re going for a long time, if at all, things get more complicated. The pain, then, isn’t just loss…it’s the knowledge of what you’ll never lose. Watching your friends die, while you, standing at their death bed, look the same as you did when you met them sixty years ago, like you’re taunting them, like you’re some cosmic joke… Watching them die, while you have millennia left to spend grieving, making new friends and watching them die too, just living… it isn’t exactly something you’d spend one of your three wishes on.

Sometimes he wished he was mortal. Human. That the blade and arrow would sting more, that words would mean more, that he’d remember the things his friends told long ago, under moonlit skies. He wished he could feel something, that he could feel fear and horror and hope. That the fight would pump in his veins. That he could grow old, and die, and wouldn’t have to live a thousand more lifetimes before death took him away. Sometimes he forgot how to appreciate life; they say death is what gives life meaning, after all.

Seeing his friends from centuries ago, his friends who he had argued with, played games with, laughed, cried with. Friends who he had watched die, who he had mourned, grieved long ago back again…

“What’s the matter?” Trevor put his hands on his hips, noticing that he was standing their dumbstruck. “Cat got your tongue?”

Alucard backed up on shaky legs, biting his lip until it bled.

He was twenty years old again. Twenty years old and they were in a snowy woods speaking of God, mothers, old books, and how lonely they all were, on their way to defeat Dracula for what they didn’t realize then was only the first time.

“Master Alucard!” the fairy fluttered in front of his face—how long had she been calling him? “What’s going on?!”

His lips were sealed shut; he couldn’t answer her even if he wanted to. His eyes gravitated past her toward the two behind her.

It had been so long. So long since those lonely nights. So long since those sunny days. So long since he’d seen their faces. So long since he’d heard their voices. Seeing, hearing, them now was like medicine, like sobriety. Like reminding himself he hadn’t made them up after all—(because sometimes it felt like he had). So long…So long since he’d been with his friends. So long since he’d had friends.

“I did want to resolve our differences.” Sypha shrugged. “But, we’re going to have to show you what we really think of you now.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. It was nice—well uh…it was something knowing you.”

“…What?” Alucard’s breath made clouds in these snowy woods.

Trevor glanced up at him, unspooling the morning star whip—the one that he had once used to fight the night hordes with together…or at least a version of it…it didn’t look quite right.

“It’s a real shame”—he said like it wasn’t much of a shame at all—“but…we do have to kill you now.”

“We have a reputation to keep.”

“You know, vampire slayers and all. Can’t have the son of Dracula walking around.”

Alucard had to keep his breath from catching on itself and tripping.

He backed up, turning to see Sypha holding out her hands in a combat posture.

He shut his eyes and shook his head quickly, clearing the snow from his eyes, reminding himself the woods were nothing but memory; he was here, in Dracula’s upside-down castle fighting phantoms of his friends.

They’re not real, he told himself. They’re not your friends. Trevor and Sypha are gone. They’re just one of Dracula’s tricks. He’s using them to get to you.

He felt something wrap around his leg.

“Master Alucard!”

“It’s nothing personal.” Trevor spoke, “Except if you count the fact that we’d only do this to you because you’re the worst.” He yanked on the whip and swung Alucard by his leg into the far wall at full force.

Sypha held up her arms beads of light before her fingers, then brought them together, making spikes of ice jut out from beneath the walls, stomping towards him.

He pried himself from the wall and jumped out of their way.

Trevor threw a cross at him—one made of bones—but it came back without finding its mark.

Before Sypha could send her jet of flame at him, Alucard burst forward knocking her down.

“Attacking poor, innocent girls now? So that’s how you want to play it, huh?”

“Who are you calling ‘poor’ and ‘innocent’?!” Sypha crossed her arms, “I can handle myself thank you very much!”

“Oh—I—uh—I didn’t mean it like that!”

Sypha scowled at him.

It was like they walked straight out of his memory. …Were they really not real?

Trevor jumped up, raising his whip.

You don’t have to do this, Alucard wanted to reason with them.

But he knew. He knew this wasn’t them. They were only a shell. A reanimated memory. Empty. There was nothing in there to reason with.

Alucard blocked his attack with his shield, and crouched down, slicing his leg, knocking down. But before he could send the sword through his chest, Sypha raised her arm and incased him in a block of ice.

The fairy broke him out, but this had given Trevor enough time to get up, throwing another bone cross. This time it knocked Alucard to the ground.

Sypha floated before him, ready to blast him with fire. This time Alucard teleported, slashing Trevor in the back.

“You filthy vampire bastard.”

Why them?! He wanted to demand of Dracula, but that was all-too obvious.

Alucard disappeared in a column of gold, then reappeared, opening his cloak and sending fireballs towards Trevor, who extinguished them by swinging his whip.

He dodged Sypha’s ice spears, but Trevor took this opportunity to power up, and once Alucard was out of their way he began throwing continuous knives at him.

Alucard turned into a bat to avoid them.

Sypha incased him in ice for the second time, returning him to human form. The fairy broke him out.

Before Sypha could cast her next spell Alucard turned into a wolf and bowled Trevor over, leaping into the air to bite Sypha’s leg—

But before his teeth clamped down on her leg something caught in his throat—something too close to sentiment—and he fell to the floor, himself again.

In the moment’s hesitation Trevor wrapped the whip around his neck.

His eyes glinted, and his mouth quirked up. “See you in hell.”

******

“Well if it isn’t the cockwart Alucard,” Trevor grunted as he sauntered down from the wagon, smirking.

“If it isn’t the…bastard Trevor.”

Sypha ran up to the dhampir and put her arms around him.

“It’s so good to see you again Alucard!” She released him, putting a hand on his cheek and smiling. “You haven’t changed a bit!”

“Well being half-vampire does have its benefits.”

They turned to look at Trevor, who was hanging back, rubbing the back of his head.

Sypha put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. Trevor sighed.

“Good god, I never thought I’d say this but…” he looked at his feet. “I missed you. …You and your stupid, ugly face.”

"I have something to say to you as well.”

Alucard promptly flipped him off.

Trevor made a face, groaning, “I try to say one nice—”

Before they could blink Alucard had wrapped his arms around them.

“I missed you too. …You don’t even know how much.”

******

Alucard hit the floor of the save room—which happened to be the ceiling—at full force, the world returning like a punch to the face. Once he regained his senses, he coughed, balling his hands into fists before him, breath harsh in his throat, heavy on his chest.

“Well…fuck.”

“…Master Alucard?”

He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to talk to much of anyone. He didn’t even want to think. To be here at all, in this castle. He half wished this save room didn’t exist so he wouldn’t have to go back there and do it all over again.

She fluttered up knelt in front of him, brushing the hair from his eyes.

Those eyes flicked to her. Eyes which were often soft and warm…now they were full of cold fire.

“I hope it’s not rude of me to ask…Who were those people?”

He didn’t reply at first, dropping his gaze, letting his breath rise and fall like ocean waves ripping through him, filling his eyes with saltwater.

“…Nobody.” He murmured low.

“They…” She paused a moment, trying to figure out how to delicately phrase things, “didn’t seem like nobody.”

He sat up. “…They’re not real.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the burgeoning headache. “Dracula’s just trying to fuck with me.”

“Oh, indeed, I understand that.”—He shot her a reproving glance, so she continued more delicately—“…But most of Dracula’s minions don’t look human…not to mention they don’t know you…It appears to me whoever they represent were important to you.”

He didn’t respond.

“And…they did know you, right?”

He looked down to see her wringing her hands.

“What exactly are you getting at?”

“It’s just…”

It dawned on him he smiled, shifting onto his knees. “That I’m the son of Dracula.”

She opened her mouth to say something, her wings beating and stopping nervously, looking down.

“Well it is a rather strange thing for them to say isn’t it? I mean, it can’t possibly be true.”

He smirked. “What if it is?”

She fluttered up to him, examining his features closely, her mouth open the whole time.

“You are?!”

He lowered his face closer to hers so she could feel his breath, his fangs glinting, “You scared?”

“Not scared, more…confused. I mean how can Dracula have a son? And—”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to go into the details?”

“I don’t mean that!” She smacked him lightly. “I mean…How can you be his son?”

“Why can’t I be?”

“Well first of all you don’t look like him—”

“Oh? And how do you know what Dracula looks like? Have you met him?”

“Well…I…” Her eyes darted between him and the ground, apparently grappling with the idea that he knew quite well what Dracula looked like. “This castle is full of Dracula’s supporters… he seems quite persuasive.”

“I’m not sure I’d say that—over half of them are creatures without reason or free will enough to know, or care, who they’re following.”

“Still…he has no shortage of allies.”

“What’s your question?”

“…How are you not one of them?”

He smiled. “I like to think I have a little more sense of right and wrong than mindless beasts.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just mean…you’re so kind. I wouldn’t think Dracula’s son—”

“I’m not only the son of Dracula.”

She paused, thinking, before looking up. “Your mother.” Her wings fluttered as she gained understanding, floating up to his face. “It was your mother, wasn’t it? That memory we saw. The Succubus. You said that your mother never said those things.”

“Yes, she said quite the opposite, in fact.”

She fluttered back and forth—the fairy version of pacing—trying to wrap her head around it all.

“Was she married to Dracula?”

“Yes.”

“Who was she?”

“Her name was Lisa… and she was mortal.”

“Did he love her?”

He smirked at the innocent and naïve question.

“Very much. Enough that he’d destroy the world for her her.”

She paused, looking at the ground. “Is that why we must defeat him?”

He gave a small nod.

“It seems such a sad reason to have to kill him…for love.”

He looked off to the side, not saying anything.

“Come on.” He stood up. “It’s time for round two.”

[symphonyofthewrite]

Inverted Recurrence

Fandom: Castlevania Symphony of the Night (but with the Netflix series characterizations)

Summary: It's been three hundred years since Alucard saw Trevor and Sypha. When he sees a version of them in the inverted coliseum...he just can't seem to win the fight against them.

So he loses. Over and over.

(The inverted coliseum boss fight from Symphony of the Night, but with the Netflix series characters)

Notes:  First of all, warning! (As evidenced by the summary) there will be swearing in this fic!

This is a fic for the game Symphony of the Night. However I used the characterizations of the characters from the Netflix series. (This is also why Grant is not present, even though he's present in the actual fight. I wanted to include him, especially because they took him out of the show...but because they took him out of the show, and because I have yet to play Dracula's Curse, I didn't feel like I could properly characterize him to have him in the scene.)

In case you've only watched the show, but are still interested in reading, I'll put a little summary of the things you need to know about the game in order to read in the replies!!

If you enjoyed this I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog! They make my week, and really help motive me to keep writing multi-chapter fics like this one!

I’ve also posted this on my general writing blog @antihero-writings if you want to check it out there!!

Chapter 1:

Alucard hit the ground of the save room…which happened to be the ceiling, breath and heartbeat crawling through his chest like fire ants.

“Well…fuck.”

******

Fire consumed the werewolves’ snarls, echoing through the stone hall, and he continued up the corridor without a glance back.

Alucard paused to think; count the rooms.

He wiped the blood off his sword—well, not his sword, that is to say, he still didn’t have his mother’s sword back from that dickhead, Death. Due to this, he was using one he had borrowed from one of those green skeletons upon its second death.

“Are you prepared?” he asked his fairy familiar. “If my thinking is correct we’re coming upon the main part of the coliseum. This could get”—he adjusted his grip on the sword and inclined his head to the side. “Interesting.”

She folded her arms and bowed. “I am prepared for whatever comes our way, Master Alucard.”

He grinned back. “Good.���

He marched forward, and, sure enough, the upside-down version of the coliseum center revealed itself. The same room where he had fought the Shaft-possessed-Richter in the right-side-up castle. The sconces spilled blue fire endlessly to the ground, fixed to columns that didn’t reach the ‘floor’, in a circle around an overthrown throne. A throne which held no one now, as if he were a gladiator in an upturned universe, a slave of the games, watched by an invisible sadistic god, hosting this for their own pleasure.

The doors shut themselves behind, and in front, of him with a loud thump, closing off his exits.

Yup. Interesting.

He stood on guard, aiming the sword at the pentagonal spinning coffins in the center of the room, his mind cycling through what might step out;

Let’s see, skeletons? Zombies? Ghosts? No it’d be something more advanced than that. Maybe a dragon would walk out? Or maybe he’d fight the embodiment of emperor Nero himself? That might be fun.

When their lids creaked forward and the first enemy stepped out it did not, in fact, have rotting skin, or a malevolent grin…It looked like a man.

A man with brown hair, blue eyes—one of which a scar fell across—sauntered over to Alucard, the Belmont crest gleaming on his chest.

Alucard froze, eyes widening.

The man groaned when he saw Alucard—but not in an undead way, more like a man who was annoyed—and, unlike many of the monsters, he spoke:

“Well if it isn’t the cockwart, Alucard.”

Alucard fought werewolves and demons, things that spit fire, things that turned him to stone, things that would eat his soul out if given the chance, and he didn’t even break a sweat. Not much could make his heart hammer these days.

But this—

“Trevor! What have I told you about speaking your mind?!” Alucard had been so focused on Trevor he hadn’t noticed the other enemy: a woman in blue smacked Trevor on the back of the head.

“Uhh that it’s what everyone should do it all the time?” he rubbed his head.

She pulled on his ear.

“Okay, okay! Easy on the moneymaker!”

Alucard’s eyes stayed open wide, as if he was afraid if he closed them they’d disappear and he’d remember he was dreaming. The golden irises oscillating beneath waves of memory, the sword at his side twitching.

“Master Alucard?” the fairy’s voice was muffled behind the sound of his heartbeat.

He fought reanimated flesh, and first-animated metal, he fought things straight out of books, things he wished were mere fantasy, and never once did he stand paralyzed.

But this…this made his blood thump cold and relentless in his ears. This made his heart start churning with questions, his head ache with memory. This made his throat tighten with sentimentality long forgotten.

The fairy couldn’t hear the words he breathed.

Three hundred years is a long time. Even if he spent most of it asleep, time has a way of weighing heavy on the chest.

They were arguing amongst themselves, while the fairy was asking him questions, but he couldn’t make out any of the words. As if he was beneath many tons of water, the pressure slowly crushing him.

Being immortal has never been the blessing humanity thought. Watching your friends, your family, die is hard enough, but when you know you won’t be joining them wherever they’re going for a long time, if at all, things get more complicated. The pain, then, isn’t just loss…it’s the knowledge of what you’ll never lose. Watching your friends die, while you, standing at their death bed, look the same as you did when you met them sixty years ago, like you’re taunting them, like you’re some cosmic joke… Watching them die, while you have millennia left to spend grieving, making new friends and watching them die too, just living… it isn’t exactly something you’d spend one of your three wishes on.

Sometimes he wished he was mortal. Human. That the blade and arrow would sting more, that words would mean more, that he’d remember the things his friends told long ago, under moonlit skies. He wished he could feel something, that he could feel fear and horror and hope. That the fight would pump in his veins. That he could grow old, and die, and wouldn’t have to live a thousand more lifetimes before death took him away. Sometimes he forgot how to appreciate life; they say death is what gives life meaning, after all.

Seeing his friends from centuries ago, his friends who he had argued with, played games with, laughed, cried with. Friends who he had watched die, who he had mourned, grieved long ago back again…

“What’s the matter?” Trevor put his hands on his hips, noticing that he was standing there dumbstruck. “Cat got your tongue?”

Alucard backed up on shaky legs, biting his lip until it bled.

He was twenty years old again. Twenty years old and they were in a snowy woods speaking of God, mothers, old books, and how lonely they all were, on their way to defeat Dracula for what they didn’t realize then was only the first time.

“Master Alucard!” the fairy fluttered in front of his face—how long had she been calling him? “What’s going on?!”

His lips were sealed shut; he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. His eyes gravitated past her to the two behind her.

It had been so long. So long since those lonely nights. Since those sunny days. So long since he’d seen their faces. Heard their voices. Seeing, hearing, them now was like medicine after years of sickness, like sobriety after spending years drunk. Like reminding himself he hadn’t made them up after all—(because sometimes it felt like he had). So long…So long since he’d been with his friends. So long since he’d had friends.

“I did want to resolve our differences.” Sypha shrugged. “But, we’re going to have to show you what we really think of you now.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. It was nice—well uh…it was something knowing you.”

“…What?” Alucard’s breath made clouds in these snowy woods.

Trevor glanced up at him, unspooling the morning star whip—the one that he had once used to fight the night hordes with together…or at least a version of it…it didn’t look quite right.

“It’s a real shame”—he said like it wasn’t much of a shame at all—“but…we do have to kill you now.”

“We have a reputation to keep.”

“You know, vampire slayers and all. Can’t have the son of Dracula walking around.”

Alucard had to keep his breath from catching on itself and tripping.

He backed up, turning to see Sypha holding out her hands in a combat posture.

He shut his eyes and shook his head quickly, clearing the snow from his eyes, reminding himself the woods were nothing but memory; he was here, in Dracula’s upside-down castle, fighting phantoms of his friends.

They’re not real, he told himself. They’re not your friends. Trevor and Sypha are gone. They’re just one of Dracula’s tricks. He’s using them to get to you.

He felt something wrap around his leg.

“Master Alucard!”

“It’s nothing personal.” Trevor spoke, “Except if you count the fact that we’d only do this to you...because you’re the worst.” He yanked on the whip and swung Alucard by his leg into the far wall at full force.

Sypha held up her arms beads of light before her fingers, then brought them together, making spikes of ice jut out from beneath the walls, stomping towards him.

He pried himself from the wall and jumped out of their way.

Trevor threw a cross at him—one made of bones—but it came back without finding its mark.

Before Sypha could send her jet of flame at him, Alucard burst forward, knocking her down.

“Attacking poor, innocent girls now? So that’s how you want to play it, huh?”

“Who are you calling ‘poor’ and ‘innocent’?!” Sypha crossed her arms, “I can handle myself thank you very much!”

“Oh—I—uh—I didn’t mean it like that!”

Sypha scowled at him.

It was like they walked straight out of his memory. …Were they really not real?

Trevor jumped up, raising his whip.

You don’t have to do this, Alucard wanted to reason with them.

But he knew. He knew this wasn’t them. They were only a shell. A reanimated memory. Empty. There was nothing in there to reason with.

Alucard blocked his attack with his shield, and crouched down, slicing his leg, knocking him down. But before he could send the sword through his chest, Sypha raised her arm and incased him in a block of ice.

The fairy broke him out, but this had given Trevor enough time to get up, throwing another bone cross. This time it knocked Alucard down.

Sypha floated before him, ready to blast him with fire. This time Alucard teleported, slashing Trevor in the back.

“You filthy vampire bastard.”

Why them?! He wanted to demand of Dracula, but that was all-too obvious.

Alucard disappeared in a column of gold, then reappeared, opening his cloak and sending fireballs towards Trevor, who extinguished them by swinging his whip.

He dodged Sypha’s ice spears, but Trevor took this opportunity to power up, and once Alucard was out of their way he began throwing continuous knives at him--which Alucard turned into a bat to avoid.

Sypha incased him in ice for the second time, returning him to human form. The fairy broke him out.

Before Sypha could cast her next spell Alucard turned into a wolf and bowled Trevor over, leaping into the air to bite Sypha’s leg—

But before his teeth clamped down on her leg something caught in his throat—something too close to sentiment—and he fell to the floor, himself again.

In the moment’s hesitation Trevor wrapped the whip around Alucard's neck.

His eyes glinted, and his mouth quirked up. “See you in hell.”

******

“Well if it isn’t the cockwart, Alucard,” Trevor grunted as he sauntered down from the wagon, smirking.

“If it isn’t the bastard, Trevor.”

Sypha ran up to the dhampir and put her arms around him.

“It’s so good to see you again Alucard!” She released him, putting a hand on his cheek and smiling. “You haven’t changed a bit!”

“Well being half-vampire does have its benefits.”

They turned to look at Trevor, who was hanging back, rubbing the back of his head.

Sypha put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. Trevor sighed.

“Good god, I never thought I’d say this but…” He looked at his feet. “I missed you. …You and your stupid, ugly face.”

"I have something to say to you as well.”

Alucard promptly flipped him off.

Trevor made a face, groaning, “I try to say one nice—”

Before they could blink Alucard had wrapped his arms around them, holding them so fast and so tight it nearly made them fall over.

“I missed you too. …You don’t even know how much.”

******

Alucard hit the floor of the save room—which happened to be the ceiling—at full force, the world returning like a punch to the face. Once he regained his senses, he coughed, balling his hands into fists before him, breath harsh in his throat, heavy on his chest.

“Well…fuck.”

“…Master Alucard?”

He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to talk to much of anyone. He didn’t even want to think. To be here at all, in this castle. He half wished this save room didn’t exist so he wouldn’t have to go back there and do it all over again.

She fluttered up knelt in front of him, brushing the hair from his eyes.

Those eyes flicked to her. Eyes often soft and warm…now full of cold fire.

“I hope it’s not rude of me to ask…Who were those people?”

He didn’t reply at first, dropping his gaze, letting his breath rise and fall like ocean waves ripping through him, filling his eyes with saltwater.

“…Nobody.” He murmured low.

“They…” She paused a moment, trying to figure out how to delicately phrase things, “didn’t seem like nobody.”

He sat up. “…They’re not real.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the burgeoning headache. “Dracula’s just trying to fuck with me.”

“Oh, indeed, I understand that.”—He shot her a reproving glance, so she continued more delicately—“…But most of Dracula’s minions don’t look human…not to mention they don’t know you…It appears to me whoever they represent were important to you.”

He looked away. He didn't want to talk about this. Not now. Not with a creature who--however well meaning--could barely begin to understand the horrors of immortality.

“And…they did know you...right?”

He looked down to see her wringing her hands.

“What exactly are you getting at?”

“It’s just…”

It dawned on him and he smiled, shifting to his knees. “That I’m the son of Dracula.”

She opened her mouth to say something, her wings beating and stopping nervously, looking down.

“Well it is a rather strange thing for them to say isn’t it? I mean, it can’t possibly be true.”

He smirked. “What if it is?”

She fluttered up to him, examining his features closely, her mouth open the whole time.

“You are?!”

He lowered his face closer to hers so she could feel his breath, his fangs glinting, “You scared?”

“...Not scared, more confused. I mean how can Dracula have a son? And—”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to go into the details?”

“I don’t mean that!” She smacked him lightly. “I mean…How can you be his son?”

“Why can’t I be?”

“Well first of all you don’t look like him—”

“Oh? And how do you know what Dracula looks like? Have you met him?”

“Well…I…” Her eyes darted between him and the ground, apparently grappling with the idea that he knew quite well what Dracula looked like. “This castle is full of Dracula’s supporters… he seems quite persuasive.”

“I’m not sure I’d say that—over half of them are creatures without reason, or free will, enough to know, or care, who they’re following.”

“Still…he has no shortage of allies.”

“What’s your question?”

“…How are you not one of them?”

He smiled. “I like to think I have a little more sense of right and wrong than mindless beasts.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just mean…you’re so kind. I wouldn’t think Dracula’s son—”

“I’m not only the son of Dracula.”

She paused, thinking, before looking up. “Your mother.” Her wings fluttered as she gained understanding, floating up to his face. “It was your mother, wasn’t it? That memory we saw. The Succubus. You said that your mother never said those things.”

“Yes, she said quite the opposite, in fact.”

She gave a sad smile. "...It sounds like you loved her very much."

He gave an almost imperceptible nod as he looked away.

"I'm...sorry that happened to her. That's ...awful. Humans can be brutes at times."

"Yes." He agreed softly, before adding, "But not always. And not all of them."

She paused herself, then began fluttering back and forth—the fairy version of pacing—trying to wrap her head around it all.

“Was she married to Dracula?”

“Yes.”

“Who was she?”

“Her name was Lisa… and she was mortal.”

“Did he love her?”

He smirked at the innocent and naïve question.

“Very much. ...Enough that he’d destroy the world for her.”

She paused, looking at the ground. “Is that why we must defeat him?”

He gave a small nod.

“It seems such a sad reason to have to kill him…for love.”

He looked off to the side, not saying anything.

“Come on.” He stood up. “It’s time for round two.”

******

Notes Cont.:

For the cartoon, I actually wrote this fic before I watched S3, so when I was trying to come up with memories for after S2 with Trevor and Sypha all I could think of was simply them arriving back at the castle. Then reading it after watching S3 I realized their reunion would probably go differently :'( ...I decided to keep it as-is because I really have no clue how that's gonna go in later seasons, and because I felt people might like reading about a nice version of them coming back to him anyways.

[tempestshakes01]

I have that movie idea ruminating in my brain--THE DOG DAYS OF GIRLHOOD--and it’s been a seedling of a plot for a good 4 years now, ever since I brainstormed a modernist novel and came up with the rough idea of a mentally ill teenager becoming obsessed with the fact that people were dying on the border from either a serial killer or the Chupacabra, and trying to solve the ~mystery, and layering that over a multi-generational story about her family.

And then one day, as I hiked in the desert, I realized this wasn’t the only story. There’s a sorta prequel to Dog Days. And I’ve played around with it for a year now, but it really crystallized into something once I watched Bone Tomahawk and Midsommar. It’s basically a mix of those two. Very straight forward.

Lemme sketch it out:

ACT ONE: Strangers

We open on a ragtag group of men from the east traveling through west Texas in the 1930s. They’re an odd bunch and we wonder whether this is going to be a buddy comedy, until...

...they come across farmhand (the frightened young man is blathering about how they’re headed into hell yada yada) and BAM! hyper-violent murdering...oh, they’re the bad guys. 

Cut to: a homestead, last one before you hit the mountains and then there’s nothing but a desert that wants to kill you. Women are doing chores, wearing white, pulling water up from the well (purity motifs). It’s nearing sundown. Dust kicks up at the horizon and the familia, a matriarchy, shield their eyes and wearily watch as the bounty hunters ride onto their farm. 

Bounty hunters inform them they’ve been sent from town and told that they have to stop here for the night, eat, and water up because, after the Rangel’s, there’s nothing for miles and miles. Leery, but kind, the mother allows the men to camp out on her property. The second oldest daughter makes eyes at the same young “nice, honorable” bounty hunter as her smaller cousin, a teenager who shouldn’t be trying to make eyes at anyone. The grandmother seems suspicious on the porch and whispers to her daughter in Spanish. 

The men make camp and tell the family their story. An anonymous benefactor from the East is funding this little expedition to hunt down a “monster” in the mountains just past their ranch. Once they get it, they’ll be paid handsomely. Rumor has it the last two parties died of the elements or were scalped by rogue Mexicans/Indians or ~because of what they saw out there~ (trying to spook the women).

The mother suggests that the men stick close to the farm and take their time. They can scout the area for signs and then return to base camp. 

(I know it seems like they’re on equal footing but the men are very obviously pressuring them at every turn, hinting at a bitter end if the women aren’t accommodating)

The men like the idea. They ask the women if they’ve ever seen anything. The grandmother smirks. Says she’s seen lots of things and that men disappear in the desert all the time. 

ACT TWO: Searching 

Things in this act start to get...weird.

Men head out in scouting parties. Lil cousin wants to join them but she’s pulled back. In the mountains, the hunters start confident but soon come up against a variety of problems, starting with a rock slide and someone’s arm getting pinned. Another man gets bit by a snake. Are they cursed they ask themselves?

They go back to the farm where wounds are tended. They’re offered drink. It becomes tense as there’s some violence. The women become wary of the men. Drunk, they wander about and experience more weird shit. Older daughter and honorable bounty hunter make out. 

One of the men disappears the next day. They discover a bone pit.

Drink more. Something comes to the farm and everyone panics. They run and hide. Everyone makes it to morning except another some of the hunters. They ran out into the desert after the lil cousin. They come across a massive mountain lion. Hunter shoots it dead. Back at camp daughter sleeps with honorable hunter. Grandmother says how none of them are safe because it’s hungry. 

Bounty hunters return with “the monster”. 

ACT THREE: The Hunt

Celebrating over an open fire, the bounty hunters and women cheers. It’s quite peaceful. The moon is full. 

It’s like a painting, wide shot, when--almost like a dance--the mother stands up and walks outside the circle, reaches into the well, and (lil cousin turns to her crush and mouths ‘run’) turns around with a shotgun and fires twice to shoot the first hunter in front of her, back of the head, dead. It’s an “OH what the FUCK” moment.

 She pumps it as one of the daughters smoothly pulls a hatchet from her skirt and hacks into the man next her. The men are now scrambling, drunk, and realizing they’re defenseless. 

It’s a sudden role reversal. 

They’re now hunted. 

They run off into the desert. 

Blah blah, fight scenes, at one point the honorable hunter is begging for his life from lil cousin, trying to play her jealousy to get her to turn on her cousin, talking about she called him honorable like her dad and blah blah, and she cuts him free, he like ‘thanks boo’, and she skewers him to his shock, saying, “What honor?” and then shoving him into a ravine. 

blah blah all the men die. we hear a monstrous yapping and howling. we see the women head back to the homestead at dawn. 

--

yeah i got lazy writing this, but yeah 

[angstymarshmallow]

WIP (cal lowell x mc)

I wanted some feed back on something for the next chapter of my multi-fic series! Uh, don’t worry the crossover is coming soon lol. I just have some kinks to work out. I love writing action scenes because they present a unique challenge but I struggle with the flow of it. I would love to hear some of YOUR thoughts?

-

Wren stumbles to catch her footing, her hands warding off the dent of the blow once he strikes – his arm sailing and making contact, before she backpedals several steps away. It hurts, but it would’ve hurt helluva a lot more if she hadn’t seen it coming at the last possible second.

“You’re distracted.” His words are terse, eyes drawn back as a smirk toys at the corner of his lips.

The ass. He’s enjoying this.

She shouldn’t expect any differently, and for all that he was – Nik Ryder is still one of the most infuriating people she has ever met. But he’s never given up on her and taught her almost everything he knows in the short amount of time they’ve known each other.

Still, she doesn’t appreciate him pointing out the obvious, she’s been more than distracted lately. She’s been moody. Angry. Depressed. All of that and more at just the thought of Cal – at what they meant to each other.

“Bite my ass, Nik.” Snarling, Wren ducks his jab and feints to the left. She thinks she has the upper hand until his leg cuts her off, sweeping into a wide arc to take out her knees.

Wren curses as her feet fumble and there’s no stopping herself from tittering then falling flat on her ass. Her wrist takes most of the impact and she hisses at the slight twinges of pain that shoots up her arm. Getting to her feet, she begins to rub tiny circles across the inside of her wrist.

“Sloppy.” He tsks, dark eyes remaining impassive despite her own foul attitude. He circles her. Raising his hands, he clenches them into tight fists. “Sloppy will get you killed.”

He doesn’t need to tell her twice – she knows. But her mind isn’t focusing on looking for opportunities, cracks in his defense – she’s still too angry, too out of control of her own emotions to care about the consequences. She doesn’t care if she’s being sloppy, she just wants to hit something. Without uttering a remark, Wren sets off on her feet again – ducking when he tries to deliver a hook at the side of her head and she throws her hands up to body-tackle him towards the floor. “Rughh!”

At the last second, Nik manages to pivot his feet with enough of a twist to change the angle of his stance. He uses her own momentum against her, throwing her off balance and slightly chuckling as she lands with a hard thud. He whirls back around to face her. “Oh, that sounded like it hurt.” He taunts, eyes brightening as she curses.

Grimacing, Wren hauls herself off the floor. “It did. Not that you care.” She fires back, raising her hands up as she gets on the balls of her feet.

“If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here right now – giving you a target to hit.” He counters, ducking at the last second when she throws a quick jab. “I’d be at home with a case of cold beer.”

Wren lets out a cry of triumph as her other hand quickly shoots out and her fist finally connects to his jaw

He winces, but makes a show of blocking her next attack – preventing any follow-up chance for an onslaught. “Sloppy,” she mimics, trying her best Nik impression. “Aren’t you the one that said sloppy will get me killed?”

He dodges to the right and grips her briefly by the waist; setting himself up for kneeing her exposed chest.

The impact makes her grunt and fight for her next breath. She staggers back, eyes tearing up as she manages to shoot him a glare.

“And I wasn’t lying when I said it.”  His tone is deadpanned. “You’re angry. Use it but don’t let it control you. Anger is a powerful tool – but letting your emotions get the best of you isn’t only dangerous, it’s stupid.”

Huffing a breath, Wren rushes into him.

Their bodies slam together, but Nik keeps an inch away by using his arms to push against her demanding push and pull. “Control it, Wren.”

She growls low in her throat, increasing the pressure and leaning more of her weight against him. He won’t get the better of her again, she won’t let him.

Nik blinks and adjusts his stance almost instantly to administer more of a defensive posture.

It’s all the opportunity she needs. Loosening her hold, Wren drops her right shoulder a few inches and uses her weight to propel him across her shoulders – heaving his heavier mass over her – despite the racing of her own heart as adrenaline pumps loudly inside her veins.

He lands with an oomph and doesn’t stand right away. Wincing, Nik rubs his left hip then hastily gets to his feet.

“I am controlling it Nik.” She mutters with a hiss. Trying to anyway – this was the best it’s going to get.

His eyes halt towards her and his brow creases as soon as he holds up his hands – indicating they should place their sparring match on hold. “I thought this was helping, but now I’m not so sure.’

“If I wanted to talk, I would’ve gone to see Vera.” She should have sparred with Katy; Katy has always been better at reading between the lines – knowing when to push her and when not to. But Katy is out of time on nighthunter business.

But Wren doesn’t want to talk, because talking won’t make it easier –  it’ll make her feel things she’s been staving off since he left. There’s no Cal anymore it’s just her, and the knowledge hurts. It hurts so bad that her heart aches at the thought.

She’s afraid if she starts talking, the tears will start and she’ll never be able to stop.  

Taking a step towards him, Wren swallows back the lump in her throat and forces her thoughts to the present. Focus. Breathe. Control. “Now are we going to fight or not?”

-

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[fic-for-fic-sake]

The Professor

you’re a college student and starting a new semester and you have professor laufeysons class, He’s your creative writing professor. You start having very vivid sex dreams of him and use those to fuel your writing. But when you’re in class you swear he gives you knowing glances as you squirm in your seat and find yourself wishing you were asleep so he could take you like he had done so many nights before. One time because you’re tired and flustered and forgot to hand in an assignment you accidentally send him your latest very very vivid fanfic. He calls you into his office to discuss your latest work...multi-chapter because knowing me I couldn’t make this a one shot. Smut in every chapter, not sorry about it.

Part(s): 1

Part 2: NSFW Warning

Going through the rest of the day was torture. All you wanted to do was get home so you could release all the pent up pressure you felt between your thighs. You were about to head home when your phone buzzed with a calendar notification reminding you that you had your night class today.

You audibly groaned which earned you a few confused looks from the strangers around you. You huffed and turned back around and headed towards class. You hated this, you had your night class once a week and of fucking course it would be on today of all days.

Once you walked into the room and found a seat in the middle of the lecture hall you pulled out your phone to look at your schedule to see just how long this class was. One glance told you that it went from 6-9. Three fucking hours. You debated skipping the class but knew that would only come to bite you down the road so you stayed put.

By the time 8:50 rolled around you were practically white knuckling your desk. Masturbating was literally the only thing you could think about. You couldn’t focus on the professor and what she was talking about and to be honest, you didn’t really care. All you cared about was remembering where your vibrator was and praying that you remembered to charge it after the last time you used it.

When your professor dismissed everyone you practically bolted from your chair to the exit. It normally takes you a half hour to walk back to your apartment from class, you made it to your door in 20 minutes. You opened your front door so violently you were surprised it wasn’t ripped off its hinges. You ran into your room and pulled open the drawer that contained your vibrator.

In one swift motion your pants were off and you were on your bed. Your fingers were already working on your swollen clit and you let out a sigh of relief. You began rubbing your clit faster and faster as you turned your vibrator on. Ever so slowly, you began to insert the vibrator into your slick heat inch by inch. Your hips bucked at the sensations caused by your hands and the vibrator. The vibrations made you moan aloud and at that moment you were thankful that you lived alone.

Your eyes were closed in pure bliss and you felt your head fall back on your pillow as you continued to play with yourself. You could feel your walls begin to flutter around the vibrator and you knew you were close. You rubbed your clit with determination as you felt your climax fast approaching. The only sounds in the room were your panting and the hum of the vibrator. You were so close your legs were shaking when suddenly you no longer felt the sensation of the vibrator. Come to think of it, you didn’t hear the noise of it either. Thinking your vibrator died at the worst possible moment, you sat up and opened your eyes and came face to face with Professor Laufeyson. Wait, what? What the fuck? How did he get in your apartment?

“P-p-professor Laufeyson?” You asked, your voice laced with confusion, “What the hell are you doing here?” You questioned as you pulled your blanket up over your half clothed form.

“I’m here because I saw the state you were in, in my class and I intended to rectify the situation.” He said calmly like he was talking about the weather.

The situation? Wait, he knew you were horny in his class?

“How did you get in my apartment?” You asked cautiously as you moved up on the bed trying to create distance between the two of you.

“The same way I got in your dream last night, I know you must remember that pet.” He answered with a gleam in his eyes.

So, he knows he was in your dream? This day just keeps getting stranger.

You were about to ask him another question when he put a finger up to your lips to silence you.

“Shh pet, there will be enough time for answers later. But right now, I came here with a purpose and I intend to see that through.” He said in a hushed tone as he slowly began to lower the blanket that covered you.

You wanted to tell him you needed answers now damnit, but just like last night you felt hypnotized by his presence. He was intoxicating. Plus, he did say he wanted to help you with your current predicament.

“Let me see you.” Professor Laufeyson whispered as he pulled the blanket all the way off of you and tossed it on the floor. He stood up and walked around to the foot of the bed towards your feet. Slowly, he grabbed your ankles and pulled harshly so that you slid halfway down the bed. You let out a yelp of surprise.

“Now pet, there are a few ground rules we must go over.” Professor Laufeyson dictated as he slid his hands up your legs until they reached your knees.

“Number one, in here you will address me as sir, am I understood?” He questioned as he slowly parted your legs so he could admire your glistening wet pussy.

“Y-yes sir.” You responded quietly, too focused on what he intended to do with you.

“Good.” He smiled as he lifted one of your legs in the air and began to kiss it from ankle to mid thigh, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

“Number two,” He began as he repeated his previous actions on your other leg, “is you will not speak unless spoken to. The only sounds I want to hear come out of that mouth are those delicious moans of yours. Am I clear?” He asked seductively as he lowered himself onto his forearms and positioned his mouth directly in front of your core.

“Yes.” You let out breathlessly, focusing solely on his mouth and where you currently needed it.

He let out a harsh growl as his teeth nipped the inside of your thigh, “Yes, what?” He articulated, arching an ebony eyebrow at you.

“Yes, sir.” You declared, raising your upper body on your elbows to see more of him.

Apparently satisfied with your compliance he lowered his face and licked a line up your sopping wet center. You moaned your approval which spurred him on. He went to work sucking and licking your clit. Your hips bucked up to meet his mouth and one of your hands planted itself in his onyx locks in an attempt to anchor him to you. This only made him suck harder as he brought up one of his hands and slowly let a finger play with your outer folds. You moaned as he gently parted your lips and carefully inserted one long finger inside of you. You screamed in pleasure as your upper body fell onto the mattress, your arm not being able to support you anymore.

Your legs tried to clench around his head but he brought up his other hand to pin down one of your thighs. He quickly sank another finger into you and began to pump them faster. He gently grazed his teeth along your clit, causing a surprised yelp to escape your mouth. Your hand that wasn’t in his hair found the headboard behind you and grabbed onto it tightly. Your back bowed off the bed from all the pleasure professor Laufeyson was giving you.

His mouth left your clit and began to travel up your body. When his mouth reached your left breast he gently nipped it before sucking it. He continued his assent north until he found the sweet spot where your neck met your collarbone. His fingers curled inside of you and your hips bucked at the sensation.

“You know Y/N” Professor Laufeyson said in a husky voice as he continued to pleasure you, “After you left my classroom I almost came to you right away. You were in such a state when I saw you it was intoxicating. I had to fight the urge to take you in the middle of the classroom.” He confessed as his fingers moved impossibly faster inside of you.

His confession and his tone of voice was quite possibly the most erotic thing you had ever heard. You swore you grew wetter just thinking about him taking you in front of everyone.

“I was determined to fuck you into oblivion tonight.” He continued, “So imagine my disappointment, when I come here and find you doing what was to be my job.” He said as he withdrew his fingers from you and completely separated his body from yours.

You were left a wanton mess without him. A thin sheen of sweat covered your body and you swore your body would explode from all this pressure and no release it was being put through. You went to clench your legs together when suddenly professor Laufeyson was kneeling in between your legs, effectively keeping them apart.

In his hand you noticed your vibrator and your eyes widened in shock. What was he planning to do with that?

“You think this, toy can fuck you better than I can?” He questioned as he held up the vibrator in disgust.

“N-no sir.” You replied cautiously. You were afraid to say the wrong thing and be left on the edge by him again.

“Interesting, because that’s not what it sounded like when I saw you. It looked to me like you were content with this object. In time Y/N you’ll come to find that I wish to be the sole source of your pleasure.” Professor Laufeyson stated as he dropped your vibrator carelessly on the floor.

“Let this night serve as a reminder pet.” He started as he stood up and headed for the door, “You will not touch yourself unless I permit it. Otherwise, your punishment will be more severe than this.” He said with a mischievous glint in his eye as he opened your bedroom door. He took one final glance at your ruined body before swiftly leaving your apartment.

Tags: @mayorofzillyhoo, @malanix, @drakesfiance, @kinghiddlestonanddixon, @kcd15 @lokixme

[kirishii-gay]

In Your Eyes

My long planned multi-chapter fic is finally happening! In this fic, Kirishima and Bakugou are completely switched. Kirishima’s the one who’s Midoriya’s childhood friend, and has a hardening quirk.  I’ve worked super hard on this and planned it for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count (Chapter 1): 3.9k

Summary: 

Orange-yellow sparks illuminated across Eijirou’s wrists with a loud bang that sent his ears ringing as he held out a hand to catch Izuku. Mezmorized, Eijirou held up his other hand, watching as matching sparks emerged from his palm. His face broke into a grin, and he held his hands up, the colours of his new quirk lighting up the lingering dark.

A world where Kirishima Eijirou was Midoriya Izuku's childhood friend and given an explosive quirk, and Bakugou Katsuki was given a hardening quirk.

READ ON AO3 HERE -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776298/chapters/34174289

If you’d like a request, drop a pairing + prompt in my inbox!

The night had just arrived, dressing the sky in a dark hue before sprinkling stars across the clouds, across the moon. They shone bright, giggling and smiling as the moon reflected down into the rippling waters.

Two boys ran, laughter echoing across the empty fields of grass. One with blond hair that hung loosely over his face and blood red eyes, mouth stretched wide into a sharp-toothed grin, the other with forest green hair surrounding his head in a green halo of curls that bounced as he ran. The two darted through the empty land, chasing each other, playing and smiling without a care in the world. Izuku squealed as Eijirou caught up to him, tapping his shoulder and exclaiming, “Got you!”

The two played for hours on end, not a shred of negativity entering their young minds, only the bright colour of joy and hope. Young minds full of fresh dreams--of cape wearing heroes who came to save the day, and visions of the day they’d become those cape wearing heroes too.

In their young minds, the world had superpowers. Each person had something they could use to join those heroes, something that belonged to only them. A gift, a blessing, a curse. The two waited patiently for theirs to arrive, too, and on this night, where dusk had just arrived, Eijirou was given his superpower.

Orange-yellow sparks illuminated across Eijirou’s wrists with a loud bang that sent his ears ringing as he held out a hand to catch Izuku. Mezmorized, Eijirou held up his other hand, watching as matching sparks emerged from his palm. His face broke into a grin, and he held his hands up, the colours of his new quirk lighting up the lingering dark.

“Ei-chan!” Izuku called, and the blond craned his head to see his childhood friend jogging up towards him, their game of catch forgotten. His eyes roamed across Eijirou’s palms with wonder, watching them ignite and crackle like a newly formed fire, palms popping like the candy that he loved so much. Eijirou stretched his fingers wide and held them out to Izuku with a shark-toothed grin.

“Look! Izuku, look!” He exclaimed, and the light across his hand reflected in his friend’s eyes as he glowered at Eijirou’s newly formed quirk.

“Ei-chan, that’s such an amazing quirk you have! You’re so lucky!” Izuku praised, mesmerized by the dancing lights across his friend’s palm. Eijirou turned and flashed him a grin, his explosions increasing, ricochetting of his palm like fireworks.

Izuku’s eyes then dropped and he looked down at his own palms before dropping them to his side. “I still don’t have a quirk yet,” Izuku whispered, and Eijirou immediately ceased his explosions to grin at his friend with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Izuku! You’ll get yours soon! And then you can be like All Might and we can be heroes, taking out all of the bad guys! Izuku and Eijirou!” The blond exclaimed, putting an end to his explosions before pumping his fist in the air while shooting his friend a warm smile.

Izuku’s eyes regained life and he nodded enthusiastically, and the two returned to their game as the night lived on, forever in the minds of the dream-filled boys.

When Eijirou and Izuku reached middle school, that’s when things began to change. The pressure of other students kicked in with new quirks and sharp grins, trying to rip apart the bond between the two. “Kirishima, you’ve got such a cool quirk! Come with us!” They’d shout, and Eijirou would look up, grinning and ready to grasp the hand of another, before turning and seeing the disappointed look on his friend’s face. Izuku’s expression dropped from the life-filled one this morning. The two had run to school together, clutching new school bags and fitting uniforms, ready to step in and make friends before going to U.A together.

But Eijirou was the one with a quirk, and Izuku was not. Everyone was in awe at the fireworks across his friend’s palm, the bright personality, everything about Eijirou just drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was no wonder Izuku would be left in the dust. Izuku’s heart sank and he held his head down, avoiding the sight of his only friend from all of his childhood being taken away.

“Can Izuku come too?”  Eijirou asked, turning his head back to his friend. Immediate warmth swelled within Izuku’s chest and he’d never been more thankful and was sorry that he’d ever doubted Eijirou. Eijirou brushed the blond bangs from his eyes before holding out a hand like he always did, and Izuku took it with a grateful smile.

The boys’ faces immediately were painted in disgust. Kirishima, the guy with the strongest quirk, friends with Midoriya, the quirkless nobody? With a disapproving click of their tongue, they walked away.

Izuku turned to face his friend, worried that he’d be upset at their sudden dismissive attitude, but instead, Eijirou let out what seemed to be a sigh of relief. “They were jerks anyway.” He smiled, giving Izuku’s hand a squeeze, and the green-haired boy laughed in return as the two walked side-by-side. The strongest and the weakest, equal, not needing anything else but each other.

The end of middle school edged nearer, opening a new door for something the two had been dreaming of for ages. U.A. The two were so excited, Eijirou mostly. After a lifetime of discussing what it would be like to go there, to get stronger than All Might, to live their dream of becoming a hero side by side.

But Izuku was having second thoughts. He was quirkless. He had no superpower, no ability that could give him the chance to rise up. And he loved Eijirou, but he couldn’t help but be envious. He was given a quirk--not just any quirk, but an incredibly powerful quirk that he could grow further and further. Every day he marveled at his increasing strength and was glad he was able to stand alongside someone like that.

Eijirou noticed this one day as the two were sitting in his room, Eijirou sprawled across the chair, telling a detailed story of a spar he had with one of his classmates. He won, of course. Izuku was sitting on the bed, head hanging in his hands as he let out a defeated sigh. He couldn’t focus on the story at all, he couldn’t help it.

Eijirou was bubbling on, skin still tingling from the fight. He’d been challenged out of the blue, and soon the whole year level was drawn to see his fight. And that felt great. To feel strong, to have such a cool quirk! It was really manly, too, as Crimson Riot says. Crimson Riot was Eijirou’s idol, which came as a shock to Izuku. But Eijirou claimed he loved his attitude and how ‘manly’ he was, and no one could argue with that.  

Eijirou turned his gaze over to his friend, ready to tell the best part of the story, the part where he won the fight, only to see his discouraged expression. Eijirou immediately went quiet, and his expression turned soft. “Izuku? Are you ok?” Eijirou asks, getting off the chair to come sit beside him on the bed, concern filling his red eyes. Izuku let out a small sigh, unraveling himself from the small ball he’d hunched himself in. “I’m...I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to apply for U.A.” He admitted, and Eijirou’s eyes went wide. But before Eijirou could retaliate, or say a single word, for that matter, Izuku began to talk again, letting out all of his held back feelings. “Ei-chan, your quirk is amazing. And you’re so strong and everyone knows that and everyone knows you’re going to become a hero. I don’t have a quirk, I don’t have anything that could make me special! How am I supposed to get in like this, Ei? How am I supposed to be like All Might, like Crimson Riot, like you, when I’m quirkless?” Izuku whispered, small tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Eijirou’s heart immediately clenched with sympathy and he moved closer, taking Izuku’s hand. “Izuku. You have to apply. We were going to apply to U.A and become heroes together, right?” Kirishima reassured, giving Izuku’s hand a squeeze.

“You don’t need a quirk to be strong, Izuku. And your quirk is going to come one day. You’re just a late bloomer, right? It doesn’t matter what the doctors say, I know you can become a hero. And you do, too. I know I don’t understand how you would feel right now, but I do know one thing. With or without a quirk, you’re strong. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, smarter than those losers at school. And you’re going to be great one day. I know it.”

By the time Eijirou had finished talking, Izuku started crying. He didn’t even know why. He was so moved by Eijirou’s words, overwhelmed by their sincerity and how lucky he was to have him as a friend. Eijirou was always there for him, from the very start until now, and always did the right thing, said the right thing.

Eijirou’s expression softened and he held out his hands slightly, offering Izuku a smile and giving him the option for a hug if he needed so. Izuku let out a sniff before burying his head in Eijirou’s chest and wrapping his arms around Eijirou’s body. The blond let out a smile and hugs Izuku back, holding him for as long as needed. “Come on, now. Let’s fill out the form for U.A, okay? Together.” Eijirou said after a few minutes had passed.

Izuku nodded.

The next day, Eijirou and Izuku are sitting next to each other and calmly chatting while the students created a riot around them. “Izuku, they’re announcing who applied for which school today,” Eijirou says, his red eyes twinkling, tucking blond hair behind his ear. “You remembered to put in your application, right?” Izuku nods, slowly. “Yeah, I did. I wasn’t going to break my promise, Ei-chan,” Izuku replies with a small smile. “I probably won’t even make it past the entrance exam, I don’t even have a quirk-” “Izuku! Don’t say that!” Eijirou retorts, his eyebrows drawn together. “You’re gonna get in! We both are! And you have a quirk, I know it! You’ll get it before we go to U.A, then we’ll get in together!” A deep clear of throat sounds from the front and the students’ gazes quickly turn back to their teacher, the chatter gradually dying down.

“You’re now all third years, it’s time to start properly taking into consideration your goals for the future. I see you all have plans for the hero course, right?” The teacher says with a grin, and the class immediately erupts, the various students proudly showing off their quirks. Eijirou even lifted his fist into the air and let explosions dance across it with a loud bang, causing all students to look to him in awe. Eijirou beamed proudly, and so did the teacher. “Ah, that’s right, you’re planning to try out for U.A, Kirishima?” The teacher reminds, eyes flickering down to the sheet in front of him. One by one, each of the student’s eyes peels to him and they immediately begin to whoop and cheer. “U.A?! Isn’t that the top school in the nation?!” “Their acceptance rate is super low, too!!” “As expected of Kirishima!! His quirk is amazing!!”

The teacher then shuffled around the sheets in his hand as the class continuously cheers for his top student and praise him endlessly. He cocks an eyebrow as he comes across Izuku’s future plan sheet. “Oh, Midoriya, you want to go to U.A too?” The chatter immediately ceases and the students turn to him with a gobsmacked expression. Izuku’s heart stops, but he turns to see Eijirou with the biggest smile he’s ever worn and his worries cease. He turns to the front and nods his head. “Yes, sir.”

The class’s gaze immediately turned to disgust, their glares turn dangerous. The bright, warm admiration they felt for Eijirou was replaced with hatred at Izuku. A best friend and a worst enemy. A number one supporter and the one to make your life hell.

“Midoriya? Into U.A?! Ha!” “He’s a nobody--less than a nobody! He’s quirkless!” “There’s no way he’ll get into U.A!” Izuku balls his hands into fists, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. His classmates seem less like people now and more like swarming villains, circling him and waiting to tear him apart. But before Izuku can even open his mouth to say something, Eijirou’s standing in front of his desk, angrier than he’d ever looked. “Stop it! Stop tormenting him! What’d he ever do to you guys?!” Eijirou yelled, his eyebrows drawn together, small explosions popping across his palms. His words don’t affect his classmates who push further, challenging Eijirou for once in their lives. This gets the blond frustrated, wanting to do everything he can to protect Izuku.

“Why’re you defending him, Kirishima?! You’re so much stronger than him! He’s just a weakling! Stop letting him tag along and drop him already!” One person pushes, wings spreading across his back, and Izuku can’t help but be reminded of a demon, the pitch-black aura, the menacing stance…

“I’ll never drop him, and I’ll never stop standing up for him! What you’re doing isn’t manly at all!” Kirishima retorts, gradually growing more frustrated. Izuku holds up a hand and opens his mouth to say something but is quickly interrupted. “Midoriya?! He’s nothing! Nothing! He doesn’t have a quirk, there’s no way he’ll get into U.A, let alone become a hero! He should just give up already!” “He’s my best friend! The most important person to me! I won’t let you make fun of him, or try to tell him what he can and can’t do!!” Eijirou exclaimed, releasing the final word with a booming explosion. His class immediately gasps, clearing way to see the damage caused. “T-that’s enough, K-kirishima…” The teacher stammers as the students cough from the smoke immersed in the classroom. Eijirou lets out staggered breaths, his eyes still aflame, before he exhales and sits back in his desk, turning to Izuku with a gentle smile. “Hey. Are you ok?” Eijirou whispered, and Izuku looked down at his desk. “Yeah. I’m ok.”  

Izuku had promised to meet Eijirou after class for the two to walk home together but never showed up. The previous experiences with his classmates still had effect, their words continuously staining his brain. They were right. He wasn’t as strong as Eijirou, and he had little chance of getting into U.A. It was hard, but it was the truth.

Izuku sighed and flipped open his notebook, jotting down more notes about various heroes. He opened to his favourite page, which held a sketch of Eijirou and a detailed description of his quirk. Izuku smiled and put his pencil to paper, writing more notes.

Kirishima Eijirou (Ei-chan!!)

Quirk: Explosion

Ei-chan’s quirk makes him sweat nitroglycerin from his palms and blow it up at will to cause explosions!! The more he sweats, the more intense the explosions-

“What are you doing?!” A voice snapped, and Izuku immediately turns his head in shock to see the same classmate peering down at him with complete and utter hatred, before leaning down and snatching the notebook from his desk. Izuku immediately jumped up, attempting to get it back but his classmate began looking through it, calling for his friends to come look.

“You’re such a weirdo, Midoriya! I seriously don’t know why Kirishima puts up with you, a little quirkless creep…” His classmate muttered, his eyes squinted, nose scrunched in disgust. “Hey, give that back!” Izuku orders, a slight hint of desperation in his voice. That notebook...it’s not as embarrassing as say, a journal, but to Izuku, it’s more personal. It holds all of his notes, his effort poured into various copies. But that one held his notes about his classmates, and most importantly, Eijirou. It was personal to him, special. And it felt like his brain was being displayed and read through with a tainted smile as the people he’d dreaded to be near reading through it.

“Kirishima’s not here to protect you now, nerd. You act so high and mighty around him, but you can’t hide behind him forever!” The other taunted, putting his hands on either side of his hips. His eyes were covered by his hair, but Izuku could tell he was being looked down on, and his mouth was stretched into a menacing grin.

“I don’t hide behind him!” Izuku remarks, but they simply let out a laugh, and Izuku’s never felt more alone. And he hates himself for thinking so, but he really, really, wants Eijirou with him right now. He’s never felt more scared, and he doesn’t have Eijirou to help him this time.

“You follow him around like a kicked puppy. You’ve followed him since the day he decided to let you drag along. You act like you’re equal to him, Midoriya, but you forget that you’re quirkless. ” The first one mocks, his wings spreading up again on either side of his back. Izuku moves back in his chair as an automatic defense, not knowing what to do, how to respond. This seemed to further his classmates, who pumped their fist into their hand, inching closer.

“You’re nothing, Midoriya. You can’t keep lagging behind Kirishima forever, and when the time comes for the two of you to go to U.A, don’t come crying back to us when you get left behind.” Izuku feels his heart shatter and tears immediately fill the corner of his eyes. He clenches his hand, digging his hand into his palm, his bottom lip quivering slightly. Those words hit him hard, his word fears all strung into one string of words. But his classmates only edged closer, the three of them surrounding Izuku’s desk. Wings spread out, arm stretched and hair covering judgemental eyes.

“You’ll see the truth when you try for U.A, Midoriya. You should take a dive off the roof before it’s too late.” The winged one hissed, holding up his notebook before scrunching it up in his hands, creasing the cover before throwing it out the window. Izuku’s eyes went wide and tears crawled out of the corner of his eyes. He ran over to the window, watching his notebook flutter down to the base of the building, falling into the water. His classmates finally left the room, leaving Izuku alone. He leaned over the window and let the tears fall, down, down, crystal-blue as they fell, following the same route of his notebook.

Eijirou made his way out of the school, a frown upon his face. Izuku’d promised to meet him after school so the two could walk home together again, but he was nowhere to be found. Eijirou puts his hands in his pockets, letting out a low sigh.

He wanted to know if Izuku was ok after what happened in class. That would affect anyone, and he wanted to make sure his friend was ok. He’d stand up for Izuku again in a heartbeat if needed. Eijirou knew more than anyone else that he couldn't protect Izuku forever, but he couldn’t help it. When the others targeted him so harshly because of something he couldn’t change, it was infuriating. It sent a rage coursing through Eijirou’s veins that he’d never seen before, and he had to act on it. He’d never acted so harshly with his quirk, but he didn’t regret it at all.

Eijirou saw a stray bottle on the side of the footpath and gave it a kick, still frustrated by the previous events. He checked his phone again, looking for a text from Izuku, but other than the usual notifications, there was nothing to be found. Eijirou was worried, really worried, an ugly feeling forming in his stomach.

Eijirou returned his hands into his pockets and pressed his back against the wall of the small tunnel with a sigh. He grated his foot along the asphalt, feeling strangely lonely. Eijirou had so many people who he could talk to, who were raiding through his phone, spamming through his notifications. But they weren’t Izuku.

Eijirou hears a slight hint of movement and turns his head sharply, his brow cocked. However, nothing awaits him so he turns around again, slightly suspicious. Barely a minute later, faint shuffling is heard, as well as the scraping of stray rubbish along the ground. Eijirou confirms that something is now definitely here, and moves back slowly. His eyes widen as he follows the trail along the floor. A green, murky texture of some sort is making its way along the ground towards him. Eijirou’s stomach twists, trying to move away. But the slime takes form, moving together and rising in front of it, bearing erratic, bloodshot eyes.

Eijirou had never seen anything like it. It was a villain of some sort, but held no structured form. A mix between a liquid and a solid, constantly morphing, movements varied and sloppy. It was terrifying. The creature edged closer, and Eijirou was frozen in place, nitroglycerin furiously sweating out of the palms of his hands, nerves taking over as his palms popped quickly. They weren’t big blasts, just small little pops across his palms, fear-filled. Eijirou’s eyes widened just in time for the villain to loom above him, staring down at him like a predator to its prey.

The creature attacked just in time to muffle Eijirou’s scream.

Meanwhile…………..

The redhead stormed his way down the asphalt of his middle school, his hands balled into fists inside his pockets, face painted in a permanent scowl. He constantly surrounded himself with a terrifying aura, one that screamed “Don’t come near me”, and if you were to betray, his piercing red eyes would pin to you a disgusting glare. His quirk wasn’t the most impressive, he could simply harden his skin, but the way he flaunted it made it terrifying.

He was a delinquent, you could say. No one wanted to go near him since he was a kid, mainly because of his sour attitude. A guy with a lackluster quirk and a personality worse than sewage? No thanks.

This didn’t bother Bakugou Katsuki at all. He didn’t give a crap about other kids, he didn’t give a crap about what they thought of him. He was left alone when it came to friends from a young age, and at first, it would hurt. But he had to learn from himself, he always did. Bakugou Katsuki was the only person that Bakugou Katsuki could rely on.

Katsuki was fine being alone. He was fine building some walls up and hardening them with all of his might. Building up walls that would stop others from getting close to him before they left him too. Katsuki, the asshole with a mediocre quirk.

Anytime anyone dared to come near, or mess with him, in his own mind, he’d harden his fist and one glare and they’d be gone. Weaklings.

U.A was his way out of here. Out of this useless path with useless people and up to the top where he belonged. He didn’t need anyone and it was going to stay that way.  

[piermanwalter]

Star Wars Army Swap AU Part III: Biotech Grievous

In a galaxy where the Confederacy of Independent Systems went super into biotech instead of mass industrialisation, and the Jedi’s secret deal with the Kaminoans fell through so they had to create a different army, the Republic soldiers are droids and the Separatist soldiers are clones.

Tune in next time for the GRAND DROID ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC!

Backstory

After the Kaleesh, avian-reptilian inhabitants of the planet Kalee, were ravaged by the insectoid Yam’rii of the planet Huk, the Yam’rii appealed to the Republic for help to continue the war effort. Jedi-led Republic troops joined the Yam’rii. After almost all population centers of Kalee were destroyed, the Republic refused to send help to rebuild. Grievous, a Kaleesh warlord, was forced to take out an enormous loan from the InterGalactic Banking Clan that he could repay in no other way than working for them for the rest of his life. Dooku intentionally sabotaged Grievous’s shuttle, permanently damaging his mind and body to later be shaped into the ultimate military commander for the Separatist Clone Army, and to ensure he would never escape the influence of the Sith. 

As Grievous was being rebuilt, the IGBC Chairman San Hill proudly presented Dooku with plans to use Grievous to gain as much wealth for the newly made Confederacy of Independent Systems, some of which ran against Sidious’s other plans. After choke-slamming San Hill into a wall for being so presumptuous, Dooku gave what was left of Grievous’s body to the Techno Union to reconstruct instead, but still being funded by the Banking Clan. The Techno Union broke budget limit records and poured billions of credits into a single being out of spite. Dooku intentionally did this to create the best living weapon possible, and to use company ownership to leverage the Banking Clan to do whatever he wants, until the Techno Union regrew Grievous’s damaged brain against Dooku’s permission. Suddenly remembering his old life and becoming fully self-aware, Grievous fell into deep depression upon realising he turned into a giant insect just like the ones that slaughtered his people. After Force-Pushing Wat Tambor off a balcony for causing this disaster, Dooku gave Grievous to the Trade Federation. And then the Trade Federation discovered how to clone force-repelling ysalamiri, escaping Sith control almost completely. Because of this, there are four Separatist special interest groups fighting amongst themselves for custody over their mutual creation.

How does General Grievous feel? It is common knowledge that Grievous hates his position and wants to become a free agent. Despite this, his corporate overlords feel safe with their influence over him, because he lacks motivation beyond killing Jedi and is often so depressed he can barely move.

Biology and Engineering

The Techno Union influence is obvious in his streamlined and organic design. Derived from the Skakoan ironclad beetle, an incredibly sturdy creature that is able to withstand crushing pressure, yet is still light enough to fly in standard atmospheres, his exoskeleton is not as powerful as the purely mechanical design suggested by the Banking Clan, but it is much faster and more efficient. Grievous does not need to need to be recharged and he can eat and recover from injuries quickly. If he drinks enough metal salts, ferroin, and other compounds like those, he can heal from exoskeleton injuries even stronger than before. Even the few mechanical components can be repaired with nanomachines. The mottled white carapace plates are not technically part of him, and can be torn and broken off without hurting the rest of his body. They are technically living beings by themselves and when replaced, must be grown around him. He is strong enough to resist outer space, but doing so is highly unadvised since his almost entirely organic body requires enormous amounts of oxygen to function, to the point where two emergency tanks of liquid oxygen are installed inside him before missions to low-oxygen environments.  

Grievous has two circulatory systems because his own heart is too weak to oxygenate his entire augmented body. He has one circulatory system pumping hemoglobin-red blood for his remaining tissue and a second circulatory system pumping hemocyanin-green hemolymph to his insect-derived exoskeleton. Grievous owes his incredible speed and reaction time to his hemolymph-powered hydraulic muscles, like a jumping spider. 

His own lungs were brought to optimum health, yet they are still not efficient enough to power his entire body in conditions of extreme stress and activity. When the carbon dioxide levels in his blood become too high, his mechanical air filter kicks in. He cannot use the air filter all the time since it runs on electricity, so it recharges when he breathes normally and is only used in extreme situations. He can magnetise the metal plates around his waist to store lightsabers. It is not strong enough for him to stick to walls, but he doesn’t need it, since he can easily climb around with the exoskeleton’s limbs. Aside from the communicators located in his head, those are his only mechanical components.

After the Techno Union regrew his brain, he was able to feel stress normally again, and was caught in a state in where he was struggling to breathe with his own lungs, but his CO2 levels were too low to trigger the air filter. Techno Union agents had to break into a Trade Federation core ship to tell him how to live with his body, and perform emergency surgery to lower the trigger threshold of the air filter. 

Toxins in his blood are filtered out and incorporated into his continuously growing wings. His doctors can identify his health from what colors and patterns that appear as his wings grow, like a ever-printing diagnosis report. The wings serve no other purpose and are too flimsy and weak to do anything except from billow dramatically without wind. Grievous rips them off before serious battles and it is possible to tell how long he has gone without fighting by how long his wings are.

When cut off from all CIS communications for too long, his body automatically enters Panic Mode, producing enzymes that make his metabolism more efficient, making him slower and slower, devoting all energy to generating electricity to send out distress signals, until he eventually turns into a cocoon. This is meant as a safety measure in case he is ever stranded or captured, preventing him from starving to death or revealing any information. This also unintentionally forces him to answer his holomessages on a regular basis instead of ignoring everyone and choosing to remain miserable and alone. But many other things, such as being in a shielded facility, breaking his receiving antennae, or everybody blocking his comm number for too long will cause him to enter Panic Mode too.

Combat Effectiveness

Not strong enough to duel fairly, Grievous relies on overwhelming speed and unpredictability to successfully fight against Jedi. Using his ranged weapon skills from his previous life as a Kaleesh kolkpravis soldier, he fires both slugthrowers and blasters from a distance, preferably while hidden, in order to cause as much injury and confusion as possible before charging into close lightsaber combat from the opposite direction that he fired from. 

Dueling against Jedi, Grievous must stay on the offensive at all times, switching between lightsaber Forms, jumping back to open fire, and directly slashing with his arms. His organic body, while fast, is easy to influence using the Force, so whenever he feels outclassed, he immediately retreats, finds a good vantage point, then fires another barrage, starting the vicious cycle again. Grievous earns his title as the Clone Army’s greatest Jedi hunter, carefully stalking a dangerous prey that could easily destroy him, yet always coming out alive, if not always victorious.

Any disadvantages he has against Jedi are compensated for in his brutal effectiveness against Republic droid troopers. Because fluid pressure travels instantaneously, he is capable of moving even faster than an electromagnetic servomotor. He does not require his mechanical components to live, so a common tactic for him is to charge straight into a droid formation, take a deep breath to calm down and deactivate his air filter, then set off an entire bandolier of EMP grenades. In most situations, Grievous needs no fancy strategies when dealing with droid troopers, effortlessly dismantling them with his lightsabers, ripping the damaged survivors apart with his feet, and taking random potshots for fun.

All of this makes him sound like an unstoppable war monster, which would be true if it wasn’t so hard to motivate him to do anything. Grievous is overly protective of his troops since many of them serve as officially mandated depression therapy, and especially after he found out that all of the B1′s are female. To get him to do something he doesn’t want to do, one must either threaten him or convince him. 

Role in the Separatist Clone Army

There was some slight miscommunication when Grievous was ported from a mechanical system to a biological system halfway during construction. The Techno Union created a low-maintenance highly-autonomous self-healing exoskeleton more suited to long campaigns and guerrilla warfare instead of actual lightsaber combat. Count Dooku was very disappointed when his multi-billion-credit weapon was unable to kill Jedi as efficiently as he had expected. After throwing Wat Tambor off a few more balconies for good measure, Dooku later changed his mind when he heard of regular clone troops performing remarkably well against Jedi. Commando Tup infiltrated Republic battle lines and shot two Jedi in one day. General Kraken punched Anakin Skywalker so hard he couldn’t stand. His range of skills combined with the competence of his elite troops allows Grievous to be an actual general instead of a single-purpose anti-Jedi weapon. 

As the leader of the Clone Army, many Separatists look up to Grievous as the ultimate symbol of the Confederacy, as an Outer Rim Non-Human who was destroyed by the injustice of the Republic and the treachery of the Jedi, then repaired using technological innovation. The higher level Separatists, on the other hand, tend to see him as either a valuable potential asset or a poorly controlled puppet, so Grievous often engages in uncivil obedience. After the Banking Clan felt worried that one of their greatest assets was interacting with other companies more than themselves, San Hill expressly banned him from relying on the products of other corporations. Although San Hill meant products such as weapons, vehicles, and medical equipment, for the next day, Grievous did not interact with his second-in-command Supertac Tey-Zuka, a Techno Union product, his field officer ��Himiko” OOM-135, a Trade Federation product, or his intelligence team leader Commander Faie, a Kamino product. Likewise, when Count Dooku felt that Grievous was becoming obsessed with his Jedi lightsaber collection, he forced him to get rid of them. Grievous distributed the lightsabers among his own troops, which caused a wave of chaos and dismemberment they have yet to recover from.

There are beliefs that a sad disobedient creature of unidentifiable species is unfit to be the symbol of the Confederacy, but it is of almost unanimous agreement that at least he isn’t the rage-fuelled lung-puking trash-droid that was his original design.

From the Republic’s Perspective

In the beginning of the Droid Wars, very little was known about the ghostlike figure who stalked the battlefield, killing as quickly as it disappeared. Later, the CIS propaganda campaign made sure the entire galaxy knew the name of Grievous and exactly what the Republic did to him, his planet, and his people. The Confederacy’s promise to liberate any planet from debt and war like they did with Kalee if they renounced the Republic is a huge breaker of morale. Grievous is noteworthy among Republic diplomats by being willing to negotiate with violent military leaders, but attempting to kill Jedi, bringers of peace, on sight.

Although psychological warfare has limited effectiveness against machines, there are horror stories told by the Republic droid troopers about the severed limbs of Grievous landing in the dirt and growing into terrifying trees with branches of arms, and a Jedi who fought him and survived, but a bit of his carapace got stuck under her skin, embedded itself into her skeleton, and devoured her from the inside. How terrifying must a being be in order to strike fear into machines?

Tune in next time for the GRAND DROID ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC!