#izzy and his stand [you want it darker]

[samiwife]

Hii there! How are you?

I loved your post about Izzy headcanons and preferences, and I was wondering if you could write how would be him giving Princess Treatment to his girl?

Tysm! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Yes of course <3 I've been planning on making a fanfic like this so here you go <3 Thanks 4 the request

Little Miss Princess ੈ���‧₊˚ (Izzy Stradlin x Reader)

♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

𓆩⟡𓆪 = Headcanons

Izzy's form of affection is personal service. Izzy was always the silent type but his love for you is in his actions. He's always treating you like a princess. Like that one time when you hurt your ankle and he carried you around the house. He'd always ask what you need or get you things you didn't ask for. One time you and Izzy were walking past a fancy boutique window, and you saw a beautiful silk pastel pink dress. You quietly muttered the words "I would kill to have that dress." Izzy heard you and quickly ran inside and bought it. Just like that, no second thought. He just ran in and went out with the dress in hand. You were shocked. Izzy treated you like a princess.

One day, you decided to take Izzy to the mall with you. Most of the time, Izzy hated going to the mall with anyone. But with you, he'll do it any day and anytime. You brought your purse and quickly drove to the mall with Izzy. You stepped through the mall's door. "Babe, what store are you going into?" Izzy said looking down at you. "I was thinking about this cute dress shop on the second floor." You said holding his hand. Izzy nods and continues to walk with you upstairs to the shop. "Izzy, you don't have to come with me. You can look at shops you like." You said to Izzy while smiling.

"No, I want to be with you," Izzy said sternly as he pulled you closer. You blushed and continued to walk to the store. You finally reached the store. You quickly started scanning the clothes and shoes. Izzy was standing behind you the entire time giving little comments when you asked. "Do you think this color would look good with these shoes?" You asked Izzy. He gives it a thought and then looks at the dress and shoes. "I think the shoes need to be a darker shade, but I know you like lighter colors so I think you should get a lighter dress. But you're always beautiful." Izzy explained while giving a slight smile. You grinned widely and kissed him on the cheek.

You picked out a lighter shade of the dress and began to walk to the front and pay. Izzy gently pushed you to the side and slapped down his card. "No baby, I'll pay," Izzy said sternly again. "No Izzy, you've done enough for me. I'll pay." You said giggling. But Izzy wasn't. "No baby, I am going to pay. And you're not changing my mind." Izzy said as he stood over you. You gulped and smiled. "Okay fine, Iz. You can pay." You said backing away from the counter. Izzy smiled widely and swiped his card. The two of you walked out of the clothing store and began walking downstairs.

"Hey Iz, since you paid. We can go visit your favorite record shop down the street." You said holding his hand. Izzy's face grew bright and he began speeding up his pace in walking. "Oh looks like someone is excited." You said laughing. "Thank you, Y/N. I love you." Izzy said confidently. This was a shock to you since Izzy rarely ever said "I love you", you would always say it but you just get a kiss back. After Izzy said that, you quickly wrapped your arms around him and kissed his lips. Izzy kissed back and ran his finger through your hair.

"I love you too, Izzy." You said smiling.

[ambiguouslady42]

Remember Summer Days: Chapter 6 - Planetarium

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Female OC

Genre: Fluff. The kind where your heart kind of melts.

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags: @pixelcafe-network, @hayatoseyepatch (big thanks for reading it for me)

Summary: It's not a date, but you know it is.

Chapter 5

Saturday Night. July 2007

Isabel still felt the warmth of his hand as they were being driven to an undisclosed location. She felt excited because nobody had done this before, but she was also curious if he had planned this by himself or with some help.

Satoru came up with the idea on a whim, he didn’t plan all the major details on how to make this the best night for her. He knew he could always ask her what to do after, but he felt he wasn’t sure what Isabel would think of him. Would she judge him for taking her out and then asking her what else they should do?

He started to notice that her grip on his hand was loosening. He grew worried that she finally got too uncomfortable and wanted to let go. Just when he had noticed that she was starting to lean her neck to the side, she fell asleep. Rather than let her neck hang to the side and become sore, he decides to move her head towards his arm. When she began to nuzzle against his arm, a pink hue appeared on his cheeks. She didn't move, and that was a great comfort to him; it meant she was becoming more comfortable with touching him.

The route to the undisclosed location was very busy. Traffic was lining up from the freeway’s exit. 

“There’s no other way to get around, we’ll have to sit here for a little while.” the driver informed Satoru. 

“It’s fine. Thanks a lot for this.” Satoru responded.

“...I can’t wait for this”, Isabel responded sleepily.

“You don’t need to wake up yet, Izzy. You can keep sleeping.” He said softly,  as to not awaken her. 

The radio was on. The station that the driver had been listening to was mostly playing 80’s music. Satoru began to reflect on the first time he spoke to Isabel about John Hughes's movies. He figured at some point he should have a movie night with her and his friends. He’s sure they’ll like her a lot too.

And when she wakes up and makes up her mi-i-ind//she’ll see I’m not so tough just because I’m in love with an uptown girl  

Satoru smiled at hearing this particular lyric. 

As the cars were all honking, trying to cut in front of each other to go into moving lanes, they all ascended a hill. She was slowly waking up. As she felt the car going up and making turns, she was trying to guess quietly where she could be going. “Where could we be?” she thought.

“Alright, we’re here.” the driver announced.

“Hey Izzy, wake up. We’re finally here!” Satoru’s excitement couldn’t be contained. He hoped that she would be excited with him, but only time will tell.

“Can I take off my blindfold now?” Isabel asked.

“Nope! Not until we get out of the car.” he grinned.

Satoru stepped out and opened the door for her. He helped her by grabbing her arm. “As fun as it would be to let you fall, I know you would be pretty mad.”

“I’d actually cry, dude.” Isabel attempted to shove him, but she couldn’t see him. He began to laugh at her.

“Who are you trying to push? Me?”

“No, the holy spirit. Yes, you, Sherlock.” with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Gotta do better than that.” 

He grabbed her arm and they walked ahead. The evening was entering the scene. The sky went from a purple hue and it was getting darker. The street lamps were illuminating. Cars were parked everywhere. People were observing the skyline nearby.

“Okay, NOW can I take off this blindfold?”

“No, I’ll do it.” 

“Ugh, where are we?!”

“Just be patient.”

“I’m not a patient person.”

“I can see that now.”

She sticks out her tongue at Satoru. Of course, she can only assume that he’s standing next to her, so he’s able to see this gesture. It makes him laugh. 

“Woman, stop being a brat. We’re here.”

He removes the blindfold. 

“Dude how did you know I wanted to be here?!”

“I didn’t, I just thought it would be a good idea for me to check it out, but I guess I knocked down two birds with one stone.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to come back to the observatory!” she smiled ear to ear and began to jump up and down.

“You’re such a dork. It’s really cute actually.”

She immediately stopped jumping, feeling embarrassed by this comment. Now that she thinks about it, it’s not a word she hears often from others. It wasn’t missing, but she can’t help but feel that there’s something there.

“Aww come on, don’t stop, Izzy. I like seeing this side of you. I feel like you’re letting me get to know you”, Satoru says with a grin. 

Was this the risk that Mariella was talking about? Isabel was concerned that her actions would make him not like her anymore. It was a growing insecurity on her part. His words can be a form of reassurance, but she knows she needs to believe that people can be honest and truthful with good intentions. 

Satoru did like seeing that Izzy was letting him see this side of her. His friends are not necessarily the excited type. Shoko is mostly laid back and goes along with whatever he and Suguru decide to do. Suguru was his partner in crime, they do mostly everything together. These days, they’re either going to the beach, hanging out at the pool, or going on random food runs. 

As they reached the rotunda of the observatory, there was a pendulum at the center of the room. People were surrounding it and staring at the bottom. The pendulum was slowly knocking down some pegs beneath it. 

“Do you know what a pendulum is?” Isabel asked Satoru. 

“Sure. It’s moving back and forth using the force of gravity to move, right? As it’s doing that, it’s going to slowly knock those thingies out, right?”

“Yep!” Isabel said with a giant smile. 

“Cool, now what’s my reward for answering correctly?” 

“The gift of nothing!” she smirks.

“Ugh, I thought it would be something else.”

“No idea what you’re talking about…” Isabel walked away as her face was turning tomato red. Satoru quickly followed right behind her as they made their way further inside.

 As they enter past the rotunda, they’re making their way through various galleries. They see a giant crowd of people gathering in a specific area. They decide to see what the commotion is. Isabel is not tall at all, so she pushes her way to the front of where everyone is standing. When she reaches the front, she discovers that she is standing in front of a giant orb. When she reads the sign, it reads Tesla Coil. Satoru shoves his way to the front, despite that his tall stature might be bothersome. He doesn’t care at the moment. He wants to be close to her and continue admiring her. The lights began to dim and a speaker was at the front. 

“Welcome everyone! You might be wondering what a Tesla Coil is. Rather than just explain it right now, I’ll demonstrate how it works. 3, 2, 1.”

BZZZZZZ, BZZZZZ. Electricity began to run. Sparks were contained. The sound was so startling that Isabel grasped onto Satoru’s arm so tightly and pressed her face against it. She peeked from one eye to observe what it looked like. Realizing what she had done, she let go as fast as she could. Satoru looked down at her. Noticing that she now can’t look at him and she’s staring down at her shoes. 

“Don’t be scared, Izzy. Look it’s all contained! Plus, you were so excited to see it too!” he offered her his hand to comfort her. Rather than taking the entire hand, this time she only decided to hold onto his pinky. 

Why did I do that? I already held his hand once in the car. Ughhh, I’m such a weirdo. 

“As you can see two wires are running to create this current of electricity. One is a green one and the other is a copper coil, which is what ultimately makes the Tesla Coil work. This coil is plugged in just like any electronic appliance in your house. When the electricity reaches the top of the coil, the electricity produced is 500,000 volts. That’s a lot!”

The speaker decides to demonstrate the use of the coil once again. BZZZZZ BZZZZZZ. The noise was starting to create anxiety inside of Isabel. She didn’t know if she didn’t like the noise, but Satoru got the hint. He grabbed her hand and they walked away from it. 

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything, you don’t like, okay? I just want to make sure you have fun.”

“I’m sorry.” she blushed and felt embarrassed by not being able to tolerate the noise. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Let’s keep walking around. You don’t have to let go, by the way.”

Her smile displayed the dimple on her right side. To him, this was her cutest feature. He wondered if he could continue to make her smile throughout the night. What exhibits will bring out this joyful side of her? There’s so much that he needs to know about her. So much more to see.

I have to make the best of tonight. She seems so happy too.

Isabel felt a lot better as they walked through the exhibits. They observed how the moon can affect the tides of the ocean due to the forces of gravity; they learned how seasons worked due to the sun and the rotation of the Earth. Space was such a magnificent thing to learn about for her. Too many knowns and unknowns exist; just like her relationship with her and Satoru. 

“Hey there was something back towards the rotunda about shows taking place at the planetarium, do you want to check it out?” Satoru asked.

“Sure! I wonder when’s the next showing.” Isabel said excitedly.

Arriving at the counter, they saw the next show was called Centered in the Universe. It was the next show in 5 minutes. She wanted to purchase both tickets, but before she took out her wallet, Satoru beat her. 

“No. You do not get to pay for anything while I’m here.”

“Why? I can pay for it though.” she giggled.

We’re on a date, can’t you tell?

“Whenever we go out, I don’t want you to worry about paying for me.”

“Are you loaded or something?”

“You could say that.”

“Is there anything that I could buy for you?” 

“No! It’s fine, Izzy. I just want to make sure you’ll have fun and keep having fun while I’m here.”

She blushed, but she relented. She wasn’t comfortable with this gesture on Satoru’s part, but if he insisted, she knew it was a battle that she wasn’t going to win; they made their way to the terrace where they entered the planetarium. The seats reclined and it allowed them to view the ceiling. It was displaying a starry sky right above them. Isabel was observing the different constellations that were displayed above them. 

“That one right there is the Big Dipper. Then not too far away, is the Little Dipper. The shiniest star at the end of the handle is the North Star. You’re supposed to use it to find your way if you get lost.” 

“You could say that I’m the Big Dipper and you’re the Little Dipper.” Satoru whispered to Isabel. She immediately blushed and tried to look away from him. “You’re so cheesy” were the only words she was able to muster back. Her heart was beating faster as they continued to hold hands and Satoru shared this sweet flirtation with her. 

“And yet, you’re still here next to me.” he moves to grab her hand once again. “Tell me what else I should see,” he asks her excitedly.

“The one that looks like a stick figure is Orion. He is technically holding an arrow. That’s as much as I know, I don’t stargaze too often.” she turns away from him to keep staring at the ceiling. She’s smiling and hopes that this night never ends. 

The planetarium begins to dim. A presentation begins with a presenter holding an orb to represent the sun. Projections appear on the ceiling to show the entire solar system. The sun is the center of the universe. Planets that exist beyond Earth. Stars that are born and then die. At this moment, Isabel felt small. Satoru shared this feeling too. They’re two individuals who are small in this entire universe. Satoru rubs his thumb on her hand as they’re holding it together. There’s more to discover outside of Earth, the same way that there’s so much to know about each other.

Before they knew it, the presentation was over. The light turned on again. The audience exited the building and it led them to the terrace. Isabel led the way to a corner of the terrace to allow Satoru to see the city’s skyline. The wind began to blow as Isabel was standing on the terrace. It was a secluded area away from all the other guests. He stood right behind her. She turned around and there was a glow to her where he was standing. She sees that there is a hint of pink on her cheeks as she’s smiling at him. 

“So what do you think?” she asks him.

“This is wonderful. All of it.” he crouches down to whisper in her ear. “I’m glad we got to come here tonight.” 

“...Toru, what are we doing?” she turns around. He’s looking at her. 

“I don’t know yet…” he places his hands on her waist. She places her hands on his arms. 

“Can we talk about it?” the wind starts to blow. Her hair moves towards her face. He moves it away to place it behind her ear.

“...I think I like like you. I don’t know how possible it is to be around each other as you’re going home soon.” 

“Izzy…I knew there was a way I charmed my way into your heart.” he smiles.

“Oh my god, shut up” she begins to laugh.

“I think you’re cool. You’re so smart and you know a whole lot about movies and music. I want to continue to get to know someone like you. I know that our time is limited, but I want to make it the best. All this to say, I like you too.”

“I can’t reach you, so do you mind just lowering your head just a little?” as he does so, she kisses his cheek. He turns bright red. He’s not embarrassed, but he feels glad that she was the first to make the first move. It reveals how brave she is. This means he will also need to be brave for her. To return this gesture, he kisses her on top of her head.

“Whatever happens, you’re special to me. I won’t forget you that easily.”

“If you say so, Toru.” as she proceeds to hug him. “I’m feeling hungry, do you have any ideas where we will go?”

“No, I was hoping you knew” he laughs. 

“Ugh, fine. I know the spot! Have you ever had pupusas before?”

“No, but I hope they’re good.”

“Trust me, you’ll love them! I know a spot not too far from here.” 

“Lead the way.” 

They walk towards the entrance hand in hand. The stars are shining brightly tonight, just for them.

[anodesu]

I Like How They use Colour in Our Flag Means Death.

Hello, I should be working, but today I just want to take a moment to gush about something that I haven't really seen anyone really talk about yet, but would love to discuss. Our Flag Means Death is a series about love and identity in so many ways, and one of the ways they 'subtly' depict where a character stands with their identity is with the use of colour. The most obvious one that can be addressed is, naturally, Blackbeard. Everything about his character in the show to start encompasses the colour black, including those around him.

Everyone on Blackbeard's crew conforms to Blackbeard, all in black, all in leather, and to an even deeper extreme in the second season as Ed spirals. It's all dark makeup, face paint. Crudely dyed hair. Not even Izzy, whose entire attire has remained unchanged, is not left unscathed when Ed is at his lowest.

(you know, besides the whole... toe... leg... thing) The times that we see Ed in anything but his leathers in the first season are times where he is slowly breaking away from the persona he had built up. We see it a few times when Stede and Ed wear each other's clothes, but that is when they are working on the mutual goal of becoming more like the other. The other notable time this happens in season 1 is when the two are imprisoned, and the clothing that defines each of them is gone, leaving only two men with growing feelings to face one another as equals.

However, Ed's not really the one who I want to focus on here. Instead, I'd actually like to talk about Stede. See, I feel the whole thing with Ed was made very abundantly ham-fisted for a reason. It stresses the idea of colour and theme to us in a simple way, before adding in places beyond Blackbeard. The thing about Stede Bonnet is that, up until the most recent episodes aired (Season 2, episode 7), Stede always had a splash of white incorporated into his attire; be it a cravat or a loose shirt, Stede's attire always has a brightness to it to make his noble ass stand out from the more neutral tones of his (admittedly commoner) crew.

But even when Stede is wearing tones that blend in, there's always that smattering of white somewhere. Or sometimes everywhere.

This is naturally supposed to be in contrast to Ed at all times, as no matter what, Ed's attire is always a little or a lot darker than Stede's, even when Ed was at his most Stede-like.

Things start to truly change mid season 2 with the discovery of a beautiful deep crimson (cursed) suit, which, if you remember, Stede secretly swipes the shirt from to keep wearing. It is this episode where we start to see a shift in Stede's colour scheme from whites and brights to something far darker than he's ever willingly worn before.

This here is the start of Stede's true descent into embracing his pirate persona in a way that did not really fit with his original ideals. By keeping a piece of the suit, Stede lies to his crew that the curse is fully, truly gone from their lives, which frankly, is quite a pirate-like thing to do, and from that moment on, his progression to being seen as a "real pirate" truly takes off. He is wearing that same shirt when he offs Ned Low, and so far, we haven't really seen him wear white since.

It all culminates into the midpoint in episode 7. Stede is basking in the fame, his ego's gotten the better of him. He's casually set a man on fire moments earlier. Ed, on the other hand, is fancying himself a career change. He had thrown his infamous black leather garb into the sea at the beginning of the episode, instead donning something much more soft and neutral; a mid-grey shirt and pants. To add to this, in the scene with Stede, Ed says the following: "I don't even know who I am! I don't wan't to be a pirate... and you- look at you! You're blowing up. You're the toast of the town!" Ed, in his neutral greys of uncertainty, and Stede in deep blues. Not in each other's clothes, but garb they had willingly chosen for themselves, and so the colour shift, where Stede is in darker colours than Ed, is a significant turning point for them both.

I personally don't see it as being White = Good or Black = Bad. I think you could see it in a lot of ways: Society vs Piracy, Gentleman vs Pirate. It could be perceived as the loss of innocence, or maybe just two strict ideals of toxic masculinity on opposite ends of the spectrum. Either way, I think it's a beautiful touch in a show about the exploration of identity of one's self. Thank you for listening to my Ed talk.

[natalynsie]

Buzzing Lights (Noco Ficlet)

“I can’t believe your dad kicked us out,” Heather stated.

It was just past sunset. The park had a faint smell of rain from earlier that day, the pavement was ever-so-slightly wet, and the lights above the baseball fields buzzed quietly. It was dark, dark enough that the sign listing the rules, one of them being the park is only open dawn to dusk, was unseen.

“Duncan literally stole his wallet. I don't know what more you want from him,” Noah responded blankly. “Would your parents not kick us out? Because if they wouldn’t that says a lot about your family.”

“Well, he could’ve just thrown Duncan out, but he had to take all of us out. I mean, I guess being slow runs in the family.”

“I’m actually a very fast runner,” Lindsay argued. “But my dad is a little slow.”

“See what I mean?”

Noah rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe Owen managed to drag him to another party with his homeroom, one at Lindsay’s house no less. What he also couldn’t believe is the fact that Lindsay would actually invite Duncan to her house. Of course, after Duncan decided to go and start robbing the family, effectively getting all the kids kicked out. Now, they were walking around a local park aimlessly.

Duncan just shrugged at the conversation. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Well hey, it’s a nice night!” Geoff smiled, optimistic as always. “I think me and Bridge are gonna go find a place to watch the stars.”

“Hey, not a bad idea,” Duncan grinned as the two blondes departed from the group to find somewhere to sit. “Courtney, would you-”

“Not in a million years, Duncan,” Courtney responded. “Especially not after you robbed Lindsay’s parents.”

“Worth a shot,” Duncan replied.

“Courtney, let’s go on the swings!” Gwen suggested, pointing at the swing set standing on its own separate from the playground.

“Sure,” Courtney smiled.

“Don’t you leave me here with these crazies,” Leshawna called, following them. After a moment, Trent followed them as well.

Heather, Lindsay, and Beth headed to the bleachers to paint their nails. Alejandro, Duncan, DJ, and Tyler headed for the field where they saw an abandoned soccer ball. Everyone slowly split up from the group, going off with their own friends, leaving Cody and Noah heading to the woods.

“You sure we should go in there?” Noah asked.

“I know my way,” Cody argued. “I’ve been here a million times.”

It wasn’t like Noah had anything better to do, anyway. Eva, Izzy, and Owen went climbing fences so he wouldn’t want to hang out with them. Going for a walk in the woods was tame and required little effort. Plus, Cody knew what he was doing.

Well, not really.

After about twenty minutes of walking and Cody ranting about anything and everything, they decided to turn back. It was even darker than it was earlier, and Noah could barely see Cody.

He heard a clunk. “Wait, where are we?” Cody voiced.

“Are you serious right now?” Noah responded. “I thought you knew where we were going.”

“I just hit my leg on something and I have no idea where we are. Sorry.”

Noah let out a sharp sigh. Great.

Lost in the woods with Cody of all people. Maybe Izzy or Eva would be able to find their way back being the crazy people they were, or Owen could find his way back with the promise of food, but Cody?

Then Noah felt another hand touch his.

“I just don’t wanna lose you,” Cody justified the action, lacing his fingers into Noah’s. “In the woods, that is.”

Noah felt his heartbeat speed up, but blamed it on the fact that he was lost in the woods at night. He wasn’t scared, but what else would it be?

And he tripped.

“Ow, Jesus,” he exclaimed, letting go of Cody’s hand.

“Woah, sorry.” Cody crouched. “Are you okay?”

“I just fell really hard.”

“Are you bleeding?”

Noah felt the area directly below the knee he fell on. “Yeah. A little.”

“Okay, um, we’ll get band-aids when we get back. We can wash your cut in the bathrooms.”

Noah nodded, but then remembered he couldn’t see Cody. “Uh, yeah.”

Cody took Noah’s hand again and began walking slowly, not wanting to fall again. Noah stuck his free arm out so he wouldn’t run into anything again.

“Man, this would be a lot easier if Izzy was here,” Cody stated.

Noah snorted. “Yeah. The girl has night vision.” His hand hit a bush. “I guess we have to turn here.”

“Wait. Stick your foot out to the right.”

Noah did so. “Okay?”

“So there’s two paths here. I think we need to go left.”

“I guess you know better than me. If you’re not right though, I’m going to be mad.”

“No no, I know where we are now.”

Noah sighed. For the rest of the walk they didn’t talk much. There wasn’t much more to say.

“Oh hey, we’re back,” Cody smiled. The buzzing lights were visible and shone light on the path. “We can make it to the bathrooms from here,” Cody grinned and let go of Noah’s hand.

Noah nodded, following him, but longing to hold Cody’s hand again.

[gardensgatekeeper]

Watching Over - Part 3

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of gore/blood, nightmares, mentions of death/crime, police/law involvement/settings. As always, please let me know if I missed anything important!

Note: I’m not sure why but I’ve been writing this story in first person POV when the rest of my stuff is in second person so if you notice any parts that switch back to second person, my bad! I tried to catch them as I went along but I probably missed some along the way so apologies for any confusion!

Izzie

His face was distorted, his appearance resembling that of something from a horror film. When he looked at me, I noticed his eyes. Darker than the night. Clouded with guilt for what he had just done. What had he just done? I looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. Not his. Who’s blood is that?

“Danny?” No answer. He just stared at me for another moment before looking back down at his hands again.

“Danny, what did you do?” I whispered out though afraid for the answer. His eyes met mine once more and the guilt was suddenly replaced with a glint of mischief, humor. Is he smiling? He began to approach me and it was only then that I saw what he had just done. 

There on the ground, her body laid unmoving. It was dark but the blood pooling from underneath was still visible. She’s dead. Did he kill her? Why else would the blood be on his hands? No words could escape my mouth. I tried to scream but there was nothing. He continued towards me with a sinister look on his face.

“Isabella, you shouldn’t be out this late. Why don’t I take you back home.” His voice sounded almost demonic

As if my feet were frozen to the ground, I stood there still unable to move. Unable to scream out for help. Was I next?

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Did I? The thought of whatever he had to say truly terrified me, but would it answer any of the questions running through my brain? Would it explain anything? But he answered before I could even make up my mind.

“There’s a lot of things in this town that you don’t know about. Be careful who you trust.”

Then with no warning, he lunged forward, as if going to claim me as his next victim.

---

The loud scream that came from deep within seemed to rescue me from the awful nightmare. I sat up abruptly in bed, suddenly aware of the sweat covering my entire body as my chest heaved, trying to catch my breath. Turning towards the little clock on the bedside table, I saw the faint glow of the time: 6:29am. The glimmer of the morning sun was just beginning to peek through the window. Might as well get up. I thought as I released myself from the warm enclosure of my tangled sheets.

Stepping into the bathroom, I squinted at the stark change of the bright fluorescent light for a moment before taking in my appearance, shuddering at the terrifying sight. I quickly hopped in the shower and once again found myself trying to  wash away any memories attached to him.

The rest of the day and those that followed seemed to blur together as I tried to find a new routine to keep my mind from drifting too far. I had called out of work for a few days and luckily my boss was more than understanding, telling me to take all the time I needed. Though the days seemed to be okay, the nights became something I dreaded. Between the never ending racing thoughts and that same recurring nightmare, sleep had become a distant memory.

Things were a bit different one morning when the doorbell rang as I was brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Both of my parents had already left for work so since I was alone, I was on extra high alert. My fears disappeared though when I peeked through the peephole and saw a man in a dark navy suit standing on the porch. His attention shifted as I cracked the door open just enough to speak.

“Hi, Miss Rotterdam?” He awaited my confirmation before continuing. “My name is David Miller. I work for Neumann Law Firm here in town. I believe you know my client, Mr. Daniel Wagner?”

“Uh yeah you could say that.” I muttered out, dreading whatever this man’s business here was.“I have an urgent matter I would like to discuss with you. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” I pondered for a minute, deciding whether this was something I really wanted to deal with at 9:30 in the morning. But, I knew this was something I wouldn’t be able to avoid much longer.

In response, I opened the door all the way and walked back into the kitchen, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table while I leaned back against the counter to fix my coffee. Was I a bitch for not offering him any when the mostly full pot was right there? Maybe. But honestly I wanted to get whatever this was over with and didn’t want to extend any welcome here.

“Well first, I’m not sure if you and Miss Evans were close so I do apologize for your loss if you were.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I’m not sure if you’re aware that a court date has been set for next week to try Mr. Wagner in the case of Miss Evans’ murder. Now, I’m confident that with the lack of evidence, he will not face charges, however, may I say something off the record Miss Rotterdam?” He posed.

“You can just call me Izzie, but sure.”

“Okay. Izzie. Even though there’s no real evidence, he’s still being painted in a bad light. And that’s where you come in.”

“Me? What do I have to do with anything?” I asked, startling myself a bit when I sat my mug down a little too harshly.

“Having you on the stand to provide a character witness statement on his behalf would tremendously help his case. The jury needs to see that Mr. Wagner is a good person. Not someone capable of such a crime.” He replied.

My mind raced at what was being asked of me. My brain was split down the middle as I toyed with the idea back and forth. On one hand, he’s my best friend. Someone I've known all my life, so of course I could talk for hours about the wonderful, caring, and thoughtful person he is. But at the same time, I was still so confused with this whole situation. I needed answers, even if it was bad. I needed to know.

“Can I talk to Danny first?” I proposed back.

“Well, I don’t see the harm in that. How does tomorrow at noon work?”

Nodding my head in agreement, he opened the small briefcase that accompanied him, pulling out a small business card to hand to me.

“Wonderful, this is my card if you have any questions about anything in the meantime. I know this would really mean a lot to him, Izzie. He’s been asking about you. I can tell he cares about you a lot.”

Talk about a dagger to the fucking heart.

David grabbed his things and saw himself out. The remainder of the day eventually bled into night and soon enough, I was met with another restless night.

---

The ominous clouds rolling in the sky seemed a little too telling as I stared at the moderately-sized brick building in front of me. According to David, Danny was apparently being held at this holding facility until the trial next week. Eerily enough, I passed this building on the way to work every day but never knew what it was due to the lack of any obvious signage.

He met me outside before escorting me to a door where an officer stood outside. Was all of this really necessary? David gave a quick rundown, explaining that Danny was only allotted 30 minutes. He reassured me that both him and the officer would be right outside the door the whole time in case I needed anything.

Then, without further ado, I opened the door and there he sat, handcuffed to the table in front of him. My heart sank a bit at the way he really was being treated like an absolute criminal. Was he though? That’s what you’re here to find out Izzie. My mind scolded me.

He immediately perked up when he saw me enter the small room. “Izzie.” He breathed out.

I took my seat across the table from him. Not speaking, I just took in the sight that I knew would never leave my memories. He sported a classic faded orange jumpsuit. He physically looked rough. His eyes were dull, lacking their usual shine. Even though his whole aura was completely different, my brain fought to try and see that it was still the same Danny underneath. My Danny.

He suddenly spoke up and his voice almost scared me, sounding so foreign since I hadn’t heard it in days.

“I’m really glad you came. This whole thing is cra-“

“Danny, what the hell is going on. What happened?” I interrupted, cutting right to the chase.

“Iz you have to believe me when I say I’m innocent. You know me. You know I could never do something like this.” He began pleading his case.

“Danny, please answer my question. What happened?” My voice wavered a bit as I choked out the words.

“I don’t know. Izzie I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re asking. Please believe me.” I saw truth in his eyes, but I also saw a hint of something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. There was something else he wasn’t telling me.

“Where were you? Why didn’t you come home?”

“I was just driving around and I lost track of time. That’s the honest truth. Believe me I know it looks bad. That’s why I need you to testify for me. Please Isabella. Can I trust you to do it for me?” Out of instinct, he tried to move his hands to reach for mine but the harsh clink of the metal restraints halted his attempt, startling me a bit.

“Danny, please just talk to me. You know you can trust me. I can’t help you unless you help me.” I was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed, a rush of emotions taking over my body as I tried to process.

“I can’t. I just can’t.” Danny then leaned forward a bit, taking a deep breath before whispering out.

“I just, I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore.” I mentally cursed myself for letting him see me cry like this. “I need to go, I’m sorry.”

I abruptly stood up, the scrape of the metal chair on the floor echoing in the room. Just as my hand reached for the door, he called out, “Izzie, wait!”

Pondering for a moment, I slowly turned back around and saw the slight panic on his face. He then whispered out and I could barely understand the words he spoke.

“Not here, not now. I’ll explain everything when the time is right, I promise you that Izzie. But in the meantime, I need you to do this for me. Please.”

I was unable to give an immediate answer as I walked out of the room, feeling like I left with more questions than I came with. His lawyer asked me how things went as we walked outside together, wondering if I would accept his request. Though he wasn’t necessarily pleased with my lack of an answer, he understood that it was quite a big ask and I would need some time to think things over. Before I left, I promised that I would let him know as soon as possible.

I truly had no idea what I was going to do.

✶ ✶ ✶

Taglist:

@jannysarcher

[snormynight]

@sitruksista put out a call a minute back for an izzy pneumonia fic and seeing as I have field experience in the subject, I gave it a shot🫡 It’s ~2k of a Modern AU where they live together, featuring TLC given by Stede and brat roommate Ed. Not snez.

Nowadays if Izzy wants a moment alone with Ed, he has to basically be dying. At least it sure felt like he was.

He went to sleep the night before in the study with a chill and a headache that bloomed into a persistent pounding in his head and full body wracks. He can barely lift his head this morning; he feels like he’s drowning. He hears Stede leave early, so he’s successfully avoided him, but he knows he will eventually run into Ed.

When Ed confronts him, he’s already prepped with what he will say.

“Fuck you i’m not going to the fucking doctor. This’ll blow over in a few days.”

Ed pretty much expects this. He and Stede had been up for a while hearing him hack up his lungs. He slides up to him, bringing his hand up to feel Izzy’s face. The skin there is tacky and hot, and he drags his hand down the side. Izzy dares to pull away but Ed steers his chin right back to face him. He has to suppress a sudden onslaught of coughs, his body convulsing with the effort.

“Look I don't like them either,” Ed says, leaning back to try and protect himself. “Doctors are dicks. Huge ones sometimes. But they're gonna make you better. I'm basically useless; Stede’ll have my head if he comes home to find I did nothing for you.”

Izzy’s lips tug down in a nauseous frown. “How kind of you, Edward, really. My heart is fucking melting.” He tries to lay his hands over his chest in mock affection, but the force of it sends a barrel of coughs out of him. He sits up to lean forward and is a little hurt to not find Ed's presence at his back. He’s already up, getting ready for work.

He's more hurt though at the prospect of Ed getting help for him only because he didn't want to upset Stede. It feels like lately it’s been all about him. Ed will barely lift a finger to make him smile.

“My shift starts soon,” Ed says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Call me if you need anything. Stede will be home in a few hours. I'll have him bring you some soup.”

When Ed leaves, the room feels darker than before. Izzy just sits there for a moment, noting just how sore his throat feels and his chest aches. He pulls out his laptop, hoping to squeeze a few hours of work in, and to hopefully get Ed off of his mind. But every time his fingers slow so he can hack out a few germs, his thoughts just go back to him. It's his personal jail cell until he decides to break the chain and cut himself off. It's the evening when he shuts his laptop down, and he can no longer deny the warmth that he seeks. Izzy pushes himself up into a standing position and stumbles towards the stairs, noting how his leg has locked up now from non use. The skin is sore there like it gets and he knows it’ll bother him all night if he doesn’t get it sorted out right now. He reaches for the railing, gives a big grunt and hauls himself up the first step.

Izzy has made it to the top, gasping for breath when the front door lock clicks. He freezes, leg and lungs on fire when the door opens and Stede steps into the foyer.

“Izzy? Where are you off to?”

Izzy grips the railing, biting back a cough. “What's it to you, Bonnet?” His witty retort costs him a breath and he chokes on the air, hacking profusely. These ones are a little juicier and he fumbles in his pocket for a tissue to spit into. Stede comes bounding up the stairs, and there it is, the pressure on his back that he was looking for earlier.

“Whew, Ed mentioned you were pretty bad off. I couldn't possibly imagine this.” Izzy straightens up, a wavery breath ghosting around his raw throat. He feels lightheaded, and he has to sniffle back some of the phlegm.

“I'm fine.”

Stede gives him a sideways look. “You most certainly are not. I'm calling the doctor first thing in the morning. Maybe we can get you a walk-in. Ed’ll take you.”

Izzy pulls away in indignation. “Ed wouldn't take me ballroom dancing if you asked him to.”

He wants to curl up in his room and rot, but after the feat that was the stairs, he settles for the couch. He brings his knees up to his chest, desperately trying to warm up his core while he shivers violently. Like an ever present rash, Stede appears at his side once more.

“What makes you say that?”

Izzy heaves a bitter sigh, his breath crackling on its way out.

“You're such great pals now, huh? You…you talk and make jokes and you just-you just play games all day don't you?”

Stede just looks kind of confused. “Well yeah I suppose, but I thought that's what all of us were doing. It's in the roommate agreement.”

Izzy turns his head, his face growing hot for reasons other than fever. “Shut up, we're not out here owing each other life debts. You’re petty little contacts.” He gives a few close mouthed coughs. “And even if we were I’m not going to the fucking doctor, not with that twat, and not with you.”

Stede shakes off Izzy’s normal, if not elevated by fever spite. He places a hand on his too warm shoulder. Izzy doesn’t pull away.

“He won’t mind me anymore. Not with you around.”

Stede frowns, feeling a little guilty. “Izzy I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. Truly I am. I love what we’ve got going on here. I really don’t ever want to stifle you.”

Izzy lolls his head to the side, glaring at Stede. He wants to bite his head off, but the fight in him is gone, and all he feels is just sadness. Sad that he and Stede were capable of sorting things out in a matter of minutes that he and Ed had to fight to.

Izzy tries to shift further away, despite not entirely hating the comfort Stede was offering, but his leg decides to pinch up that exact moment. He sucks in a pained breath, which develops into another coughing fit. His head throbs in time with his hip and he tries to stretch himself out to alleviate the pain. Stede puts the pieces together.

“Your leg bothering you?”

Izzy grimaces and adjusts himself with shaky arms. “It’s misaligned. I have an appointment in a month, another reason why I shouldn’t be taking leisurely strolls to the hospital.”

“It’s not a stroll, Iz, you’ve obviously really come down with something. And I wasn’t about to suggest the doctor again.” Stede eyes the way he's got himself pressed against the cushions, chest moving up and down shallowly. He looks miserable and his own chest genuinely hurts at seeing him in pain. He reaches an experimental hand out toward him. “May I?”

“What do you know about joint pain?” Izzy accuses, but he relaxes his leg a little bit. Stede scoots up the couch so his knees are pressed into the cushion and his left and Izzy’s right thigh are pressed together. He starts to pull izzy's pants down when he asks it again.

“May I?”

Izzy blinks. “Won’t your boyfriend be mad when he finds out you've been feeling me up tonight?”

Stede sighs. “It's for your health, Iz. And Ed trusts me. Now I want you to do the same.”

Izzy can't help it. He feels suspicious, but Stede has always been a generally pleasant roommate. Maybe a little too cheery at times and kind of a goofball, but he guessed it was true that at his core, Ed had been like that too. And he kind of misses it. He misses him in general.

Izzy shimmies his pants down and worries the raw skin on his leg. “I suppose you know what to do.”

Stede’s hands are soft. Being a cartographer Izzy supposes there's not much reason to go abusing your hands for, but it surprises him. Stede rubs the abused flesh with his thumbs, the rest of his fingers working around his thigh. Izzy decides that he doesn’t give that bad of a massage.

Izzy also decides that he likes his company. He's still absolutely freezing, but he feels some kind of warmth in his heart that wasn't there before. The pain in his leg ebs so he can draw his focus back into his chest. He squeaks with more pained wheezes, crossing his arms over himself. Stede stops what he's doing and pulls a blanket to drape over Izzy.

“That's enough for now. I don't like the sound of that cough at all.”

Izzy pouts when Stede moves away. “I guess…to ease your precious little heart I may relent to a doctor’s visit tomorrow.”

Stede smiles. “Great. Ed will be thrilled.”

Izzy doesn’t know how to clarify that he’s more so doing it on Stedes behalf but it doesn’t matter because suddenly he’s left with very little energy. He snuggles more into the blanket, eyeing Stede somewhat fondly.

“You’re not a bad nurse. Your anecdotes could use a little work.”

Stede rolls his eyes, but the smile is still there. “It was my pleasure. Get some rest before you change your mind.”

Izzy sleeps deeply for a while, well past dinnertime, but is ripped violently from a dream right after midnight. He pulls himself up into a sitting position, white dots dancing in his vision. The first two coughs are quiet warnings, and the next ones confirm to his dread that he's gotten worse. They scrape his lungs of everything they have before filling up once more for another round. He rolls over off of the couch, peeling the air for a breath when the room suddenly floods with light. Izzy squeezes his eyes shut and somebodys by his side again, helping him off the floor.

“Is he alright?” Stedes too far away voice asks.

Izzy blinks against the dizziness to crane his neck up at his helper. Ed's blurry face stares back down at him, framed in yellow ceiling lights. He looks like an angel. A grimy angel that smells like restaurant patrons and seafood.

“Yeah. Think so,” he mumbles. His feather light touch is on Izzy’s brow and it takes everything in him to not lean into the touch. He just squints at Ed, feeling horrible and wonderful all at once. Ed's voice suddenly goes very soft. “Iz, what happened to you, bru?”

Izzy’s chest ignites and he's suddenly fighting for his life once more. Ed sends Stede to get some water while he props him back up onto the couch.

“Seem to have taken a turn for the worse,” he rasps. “How was work?”

Ed dodges the question, tearing off his vest and picking a few things off of the floor from the day. “Stede treat you alright?”

Izzy hums in confirmation. “Bonnets’ been a peach. I see why you like him.”

He means the compliment, but it comes out with a bitter edge to it. He can’t tell if Ed detects it or not but he throws his things in a basket and stands close, regarding Izzy.

“Glad you guys are getting along.” He hesitates for a minute, more words on his tongue that he doesn’t know how to say. But Izzy is pale and weak and he needs some strength. Ed thinks they could probably talk more tomorrow. “I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?”

Izzy nods. And when he falls asleep again, he’s actually looking forward to spending the day with Stede Bonnet.

[izzy-b-hands]

What if Stede returns to The Revenge with the rescued crew members, to an Ed that's in an exhausting, devastated, rage that has him sobbing his eyes out

Lantern in one hand, boots traipsing over gunpowder and anything else he could find as an accelerant

What if they fight, forcing everyone else to work together to try and end it, no matter their feelings about each other (Jim pulls Izzy out of the way when Ed swings the lantern nearly into his head, Izzy pauses just long enough for a look of confused realization to dawn on him, then returns to the mass of them all trying to pull Ed and Stede apart. His sword clangs against Ed and Stede's whenever they drift too near to any of the other crew)

What if the lantern falls, unintentionally, and it becomes a race to try and save the ship, a useless one but they try

Buckets of water passed hand to hand, panting in smoke that grows darker and heavier by the minute

Izzy pauses and begs Ed to start leading them to the dinghies, this is madness Edward and we will die here

Tears in his eyes because damn it Ed he doesn't want to die here and even more so he doesn't want Ed to die here and no heartbreak is worth sinking to the ocean floor for

And another painful blink of personal realization hits him and he starts to call the others towards the dinghies

What if Olu pulls Stede towards the boats too but he won't move, Olu there's Ed still here hang on

He motions for Olu to go without him and passes Izzy on the way to Ed

Standing on the rapidly burning deck in tears

Of rage and hurt and loneliness and from the smoke that's inescapable

What if Stede stands there and he begs Ed please you don't have to like me or love me again but I love you and I can't I won't watch you die here

He strides forward and pulls Ed into a hard kiss flames licking a hand as he moves but he doesn't so much as wince

Ed's forehead rests against his after the kiss ends and he finally beautifully blessedly smiles

And he reminds Stede that captains go down with their ships

--

What if they wash up in a sea cave

Alive but slightly singed and with a few burns Roach will need to tend to

What if Ed wakes first and pulls Stede from the low tide onto the sand at the edge of the cave interior

Begging every power he's ever even briefly cared about or believed in to make Stede wake up and smile and he looks so close to how he did when he was stabbed, dark circles under his eyes and pale skin and

What if Stede coughs and flutters open his eyes and smiles because

There you are Ed

I've been looking for you and missing you and I have so much to tell you

And I came up with our fake names Olu says they're too obviously fake but I think he's being a bit too critical and-

What if Ed kisses him and tells him he wants to hear everything after they find the others

After their wounds are clean and bandaged and they're resting together

Because this isn't a healed fracture not yet but

He thinks of kintsugi and golden lines forming like the stitching of a wound as the sun filters into the sea cave

What if in the distance they hear voices gone hoarse and ragged calling their names

(Izzy has never shouted himself fully hoarse before but he's barely audible when he rushes in with Olu and kneels by Ed to help them up adds on to Olu's reassurances that they'll get them up and looked after and things will be fine)

What if they limp out of the sea cave with Olu and Izzy but Stede asks softly

Looking into the distance at The Revenge her remains at least his dream that he made reality in wood and tar and people and

He hesitates but does ask if they can watch her finish burning before they go anywhere else because he created her designs and funded her birth so the least he can do is witness her cremation

What if they all join together on the beach and watch their ship burn

Exhausted and injured and leaning on one another as if making up for the loss of structure and foundation a ragged bundle of people who've rarely ever known a proper home but know it can occasionally be found among others

[darby-draws]

for the character creation asks: 1, 3, 11, and 19 for Nathan and/or Izzy :)

(Send Questions Asking About Creating My OCs!)

The two oldest OCs, lets test my memory … time for some deep dives! Come back with me, if you will, to 2011/2012 Darby brain.

1 What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?  I often draw or at least try to visualize OCs before I can end up naming them so it's usually appearance, but Izzy's might be "story". She came first, I just don't know if the purple hair design or wanting an OC inspired by the song Rebel Girl was her first inspiration.

I definitely had A Vision with her+the song of her being kinda young/new to her bisexuality absolutely idolizing another perceived Cooler Girl, perhaps to a fault. That was Chrissy, their dynamic actually changed a lot beyond that original start tho and was no longer the case since we've really gotten to know them. (and has since never drawn Chrissy in years) I think Izzy's more of the rebel than Chrissy was, anyway.

Nate's is definitely his hair, just wanted the long hair like a lot of grunge n rocker men. (most likely Anthony RHCP specifically) It was darker than it is now, pretty much black, but I can't remember why I changed it to brown!

3 How did you choose their name?  I think they're both too old for me to remember this because I don't often spend much time contemplating OC's names. I think Izzy sounds tough but sweet though, and I'm sure that was the goal. Nathan is literally just some guys name and these were my Just A Guy normal human OCs so.. 🧍‍♂️ plus it had shorter nickname potential which I always like!

11 Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?  YES I'm sure they were both an iconic bi4bi couple, even when they weren't ORIGINALLY the end goal couple at the time of creating them. I'd only known they'd previously dated when creating them, but I knew ... Iconic.

19 What is your favorite fact about your OC? Ough, this is like the most impossible question bc theres so much to enjoy about my lil guys idk what the stand out favorite thing would be, but I'll try.

I like how Izzy has always wrote lyrics for the band with Nate, even before she had the confidence to sing in front of everyone, and I like that Nate got her to a place where she was able to sing in front of everyone. :) I also like Nate for his,,, stupid-optimism trait, he gets so confident in himself he forgets all reasoning. Like how often he climbs trees before remembering his awful fear of heights! Surely not THIS tree...! Love that for him..

[ascendancy-echoes]

Chapter 15: Indoctrination

Russ woke up in a daze. Before he could understand what was going on, he was blindfolded from behind and forced to stand up. He heard a lock click and found himself pulled forward, still cuffed.

“What’s going on?” he asked his captor. “Where are you taking me?”

A gruff sounding voice answered back, “Nocturna is taking you to the Order’s headquarters.”

Russ stumbled a moment before being able to keep up with whoever was pulling him along. He soon found himself outside in the cold autumn night air. The Mystic came to a stop and told Russ to watch his step as he roughly guided him into the back of a wagon and he was forced to sit down. A moment later, the wagon lurched forward and was moving.

No one spoke to Russ the whole ride. Alone with his thoughts, Russ worried about Ismene. Had Oz kept his promise and let her go? Did she know what he had done to keep her safe? Before he knew it, Russ had arrived at the manor or so Nocturna claimed.

Once they were inside the building, Russ was led down a corridor by Nocturna and down a spiral flight of stairs. Eventually, she took the blindfold off him and they stood before a door. Nocturna unlocked the door and opened it to reveal a room devoid of any decoration or way of knowing what time it was. Deliberately plain, all that furnished the room was a bed, a lamp on the ceiling and a simple wooden dresser. 

“There is a washroom down the hall,” Nocturna noted as she removed the shackles from Russ's wrists. “Now, we need to go over some rules while you are here. First, you cannot contact Ismene. It’s for both your sakes. Secondly, you are not to leave the premises. Third, you will do everything asked of you by Mirror. She’s the agent that is sponsoring your training and it is going to be her responsibility to train you to be a proper agent.”

“I agreed to join the Order… Why can’t I talk to Izzy or leave this place to tell her I'm okay?” Russ asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “I thought I was done being a prisoner.”

Russ found himself struck in the back with that accursed baton and shoved into the room. He turned around to see Nocturna shut the door and lock it.  The light in the room went out, leaving Russ in complete darkness.

“The difference is,” Noctura remarked from behind the door. “Is that we have your best interests at heart but if you want to say you’re a prisoner, we can treat you like one.”

Russ hated the dark. Not in the same way he feared fire but it unnerved him nonetheless. He struggled to his hands and knees and felt around in the dark for the door. Finding it, he called out that he meant no offense. He apologized and asked Nocturna to let him out.

“If you really care about your friend and her safety, you’ll be wise to not question me or anyone else here,” Nocturna replied coldly. “You can just wait in the dark until Mirror comes to train you.”

Russ slumped against the door as he heard Nocturna’s footsteps fade away. It felt like an eternity before the light came back on and a cheerful feminine voice called out, “Please change your clothes so we can start the day. Just leave your old stuff on the floor and we’ll take care of it.”

Russ got up and walked over to the drawer. Inside were several sets of a dark gray robe with a darker gray sash and a pair of black pants. The clothes fit perfectly, leading Russ to conclude that the Order must have paid Belinay to make uniforms for its members. She was the only tailor he knew of in Medina. 

Once dressed, Russ opened the door to a masked Kotengu dressed in light gray robes and a white sash, with a baton not unlike the one that Nocturna had at her side. She introduced herself as ‘Mirror’ before looking him over.

“Don’t know how to tie a sash, I see,” she sighed. “Follow me to the dining room for breakfast and please be quick about it.”

Russ kept a brisk pace as he followed Mirror down the hallway. He felt tired and confused as he followed Mirror. Had he managed to get any sleep before she had come to fetch him? Besides dozing off after being initially detained, he couldn’t be sure. Arriving at the dining room, Mirror gestured to a bowl of oatmeal and a small cup of tea, telling Russ to sit and eat.

Russ sat down and started eating. The tea was bitter and the oatmeal was bland and a bit cold but it was the first thing he had eaten in hours, so he couldn’t complain. He wondered if complaining would result in the food being taken away and receiving no more until Mirror forgave him. Considering this thought, he decided not to risk it.

Mirror seemed satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere and went through a nearby door, returning with some bacon, eggs and toast as well as her own cup of tea. As Russ ate, Mirror told Russ she had heard about his comments to Nocturna the night before and she mused at the idea that Ismene had never given Russ the choice to live anywhere else so how was she any different than the Order?

“I’m sure any family would have gladly taken you in if Ismene had allowed the previous Elder to find one,” Mirror had remarked. “Instead she was insistent she could manage you, as if you were helpless without her…  It’s truly a wonder you’ve managed to make any friends with someone like Ismene providing you a roof over your head.”

Russ didn’t quite remember the situation starting out that way but it had been some years since he had ended up in Medina forest. Life with Ismene had been good and while Ismene was a good friend to him, Mirror was insistent that it was better for Russ to live apart from her for now and see who he was without her.

“Yes, you do have to stay here but it’s for your own benefit,” Mirror declared. “Nocturna told me what you did that night and I can’t help but wonder… What if you had hurt Ismene? What if you hurt her in the future? Or your other friends? I think we need to get to the source of your power so you can control it.”

Her remarks startled Russ. He hadn’t considered that he might have hurt Ismene or that he might hurt someone again in the future and he admitted as such to Mirror.

Mirror nodded. “We’ll get started once you’re done eating.”

~o~O~o~

After questioning Russ for a possible cause of the shield, Mirror deduced that he created it out of fear and a desire to protect himself so therefore they had to push him to his limits until he figured out how to create it on command. She led him down the hall and down a flight of stairs to what he assumed was the basement.  Two masked agents stood off to the side. Russ noticed that they were a Gargoyle and a Naga, but with their masks, he couldn’t tell who they were. Were they anyone he knew?

“My colleagues here will help you in getting past that pesky mental block you seem to have about your magic,” Mirror said cheerfully.

“What are their names?” Russ asked quietly.

Mirror smirked. “Please don’t ask stupid questions, it’s beneath you. Now I suggest you figure out that shield or this is going to hurt a lot.”

Russ looked in the direction Mirror was nodding towards to see the Gargoyle come at him with their clawed hands. He hadn’t even heard the Gargoyle running towards him. Russ held up his arms to shield himself and suddenly found himself slammed into the ground. His arms felt like they burned and he realized that they were bleeding from the claw marks caused by the Gargoyle’s attack.

“Don’t be too rough, Silence,” Mirror chastised. “Nocturna doesn’t want him broken.”

Russ got to his feet and steadied himself. He looked to Mirror and asked if he could have something to defend himself with if he was expected to fight.

“You have something… once you can manifest that shield on command,” Mirror replied. She turned to the Naga. “Please assist Russ in figuring out his ability.”

“Mirror?” The Naga asked, sounding uncertain.

“Do I need to spell it out? Use your training to encourage Russ to create the shield,” Mirror sighed before the Naga nodded and stepped forward to attack Russ. Whereas Silence seemed all too willing to cause Russ harm, the masked Naga seemed reluctant to leave a mark, striking him with her tail and avoiding the use of her clawed hands.

Russ did his best to dodge hits from each of the agents as Mirror stood back and watched. He found himself being knocked to the ground more times than he could count. Every inch of him ached when Mirror gestured for the agents to cease their attacks. She walked over to Russ as he lay on his back, bruised and bleeding. She tsked and said, “You aren’t much of a fighter are you?”

~o~O~o~

After hours of ‘training’, Russ was given a meager meal of unseasoned roasted potatoes and a single glass of water while the other agents and Mirror had spiced chicken and wine. Russ supposed he should be grateful that Mirror tended to his injuries and let him clean up and he supposed he should be thankful that she let him eat. He picked at his food, mostly because his aches and pains ruined his appetite but also because it was so bland. Still he ate every bite to avoid being punished further.

It was exhaustion that allowed him to fall asleep after he was escorted to his room. His sleep was fitful, filled with strange dreams of fighting his fellow Mystics in a fog-filled forest. He was abruptly awoken by Mirror who informed him it was morning and it was time to start his day.

This became Russ’s new routine. He would be woken up, be allowed to eat breakfast and go down to ‘train’ with the masked agents until Mirror deemed it time to stop and eat and then he would be escorted back to his room and locked in for the night. That is, if he didn’t complain.

When he insisted that he couldn’t do what they wanted, if he even began to question what the point of all of this pain was, he was taken back to his room by Mirror and locked in. No more food or water for the day and, on those days, the lights would stay on, making it hard for him to sleep when he tried. Eventually he learned to stop questioning Mirror’s methods.

Russ quickly lost count of how long he was in the manor. Sometimes the days felt short and other times they felt like an eternity. Did it even matter how long he had been there? He now lived to endure whatever training Mirror could devise, all for the sake of making Oz and Noctis Arbitra happy. If they were happy, Ismene was safe. That knowledge kept him sane throughout the days and nights in the manor.

Mirror often told him as she tended to his injuries after training that she didn’t like seeing him get hurt but he had to learn to defend himself with his magic. She confided to him that everyone privately talked about his lack of magic. Everyone knew Russ, the ‘magickless�� Mystic. What if Guardia decided one day to invade and finally exterminate all of them? Wouldn’t he want a fighting chance? To protect the ones he loved? That’s why many of them were in Noctis Arbitra, she said. They were working towards the safety of all Mystics and sometimes their work was grim. Everyone had gone through the same kind of training. The Order was the only ones who truly knew what he was going on. Things would get better if he truly cared about Ismene. If he truly cared, he would do what was needed. Only then would the pain lessen as he learned to endure for Noctis Arbitra, for Medina and for the Elder.

~o~O~o~

One day, Mirror said she had decided that they needed to take things to the next step. Simply getting beat up was getting Russ nowhere, although he was getting better at fighting back physically. No, Mirror reasoned that Russ needed to truly face fear and fight back. She looked to Silence and asked them to use fire magic, but to avoid burning Russ if possible. Silence nodded and blue fire appeared on their fist. Russ felt his heart race at the sight of the flames.

Mirror looked at Russ. “Go on Russ, protect yourself.”

Russ stepped to the side to avoid Silence’s fiery punch, but was grazed by the flames nonetheless. Again, Silence came at him with fiery claws. Overcome by his fear of fire, Russ tried to run but Silence stepped back and tossed his flame into the air. The fire landed in front of Russ and created a circle of flames that trapped him and Silence within. Silence flexed their wings and charged at Russ. Russ tried to fight back but got a punch in the chest for his efforts. Silence continued to punch and kick Russ while Mirror told him to fight back. Mirror reminded Russ the pain would stop if he would just defend himself.

An anger swelled up inside Russ, a rage he didn’t know he had. He knew that Mirror was right. If he wanted the pain to end, he had to use magic. He was tired of disappointing Mirror, tired of the beatings and being seen as less than Mystic. He lunged for Silence, creating a small sphere of light in his palm. Moving to strike Silence in the face, Russ let the light flare up and dissipate, blinding Silence briefly. With his opponent stunned, Russ tackled and slammed them to the ground. He felt the surge of energy in the air, just like the day he fell into those ruins and the day they took him away to this place. Suddenly, Russ found himself and Silence surrounded by a sphere of crackling lightning.

Instead of vanishing instantly, the field persisted. Everyone else had jumped back to avoid being shocked by it. Russ slowly stood up and noticed that the fire couldn’t get past the shield. Silence lay stunned on the ground, coughing as they caught their breath from being knocked flat on their back. After a moment, Russ began to feel dizzy. He collapsed to his knees and the shield vanished, snuffing out the fire as it burst out from him.

“Very good Russ!” Mirror said gleefully. “Now we’re getting somewhere…”

~o~O~o~

The next morning at breakfast, Russ found himself rewarded with a real meal. Bacon, eggs and toast and a cup of freshly brewed tea sweetened with honey. Mirror told him that he had earned it and more rewards would come if he continued to do well.

As they ate, he asked Mirror what her magic was. He had found himself curious for a while. If his magic allowed him to make a shield, what was her innate magic? He then apologized for asking, suddenly worried he was asking something too personal.

Mirror’s feathers fluffed and she happily said, “My magic? Well, I probably shouldn’t brag but I can use shadow magic to create a glamour.”

“Glamour?”

Mirror nodded. “Nocturna bestowed the title of Mirror to me because of it. As for what my glamour is… It’s much easier to show than tell.”

She waved her hand, shadowy motes of energy resembling feathers and orbs swirling around her. Russ blinked and saw himself across the table. His doppelganger grinned and said, matching his voice precisely, “My magic creates an illusion that lets me look and sound like anyone I want to the point I can trick the senses of others, a skill I inherited from my father. Very useful magic if I do say so myself.”

The shadowy energy dissipated and Mirror reappeared before Russ. She sighed and said, “It’s a fine illusion but I can’t physically change my appearance… Not like the infamous General Flea could.”

“General Flea… didn't she betray the Demon King?” Russ asked, recalling an impromptu history lesson from Zoradysis ages ago.

Mirror nodded. “No one knows why she would do such a thing. The Demon King had thought highly of her skills. That’s why she was promoted to be one of his top Generals… And as much of a traitor as she turned out to be, I truly do envy her legendary skills. No one in the history of Mystickind has been able to surpass her ability as a shapeshifter. She could physically transform her body into any living creature, truly become whatever she wanted to assume the form of.”

“But enough about that and my magic,” she declared. “Please, tell me what you were feeling when you created that shield. Be honest.”

“I-I was angry,” Russ replied after much hesitation. “Not at Silence… At myself. For being so weak… for letting you down.”

“For letting Izzy down too.” he thought as he took a sip of tea.

“You didn’t let me down! When did I ever say that?” Mirror said, aghast. “I’ve been trying to encourage you this whole time, Russ. I’m hurt you would think otherwise.”

Russ frowned and apologized. Mirror reached across the table and placed a gentle hand on Russ’s. She sighed and said, “I understand why you’re confused. I’ve been pushing you so hard to succeed, you must be tired.”

“It’s okay,” Russ replied. “It’s like you’ve been saying…. I needed this.”

Mirror’s feathers fluffed slightly. “Glad to hear you agree with me. It’s a shame you never got the help that I’m giving you until now.”

~o~O~o~

Figuring out how to create the shield on command was still an endeavor. It took some effort, but Russ became aware of how it felt before the shield appeared. In the same way he had learned to be mindful of his temper over the years, he began to notice how he felt before the shield would appear. With effort, he became able to summon the shield at will, although his efforts only lasted seconds.

The first few times, Russ collapsed from the strain on his magic in his attempts to maintain the shield for longer than a few seconds. After the third time, Mirror started giving him Ether to treat his magical exhaustion.

“It may take some time before you can expertly use your skill,” Mirror noted. “But I’ll be here for you, guiding you the whole way. Do you trust me?”

Russ nodded. Any doubt he had about Mirror’s intentions to help him has long since faded away. He no longer doubted that she had his best interests at heart, no matter how harsh she might have seemed at times.  The strict routine felt familiar.

Life under Mirror’s tutelage became much more rigorous but at the same time, more bearable. As a reward for making progress, Mirror served him better food and gave him some books on the history of Noctis Arbitra and Lavos to read in the evening. Sometimes she would stay and talk to him to help him understand the content of the books. She helped him understand things in a way that Ismene and others couldn’t. When Mirror explained, Russ understood.

She started to teach him more about Noctis Arbitra’s mission, helping him understand the importance of the Order. She told him how he was doing something for the greater good of Mystickind. Russ wanted to be able to help his fellow Mystics and keep them safe, something Mirror promised him he would do as an agent in the Order.

One day, Mirror greeted him at his room and told him that Nocturna had decided he was ready to properly join the Order. He just had one task to perform and then he would truly be a member of Noctis Arbitra. One final task and he’d be done with his training and isolation.

[avastyetwats]

Stede just stands there in silence when Ed stands and walks by, only stopping to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. For exactly what reason? Stede doesn't know, but things are... different. Painfully so. He didn't expect Ed to just sit back and let the English go about their days without paying for what they did. He didn't expect Ed to not want revenge for Izzy. Stede may be naive at times, but he wasn't stupid. He just... hoped he and Ed would be okay. That Ed would still be able to love him, would want to be with him and do this together. He came back to Stede, said he was all in, but now... now it felt like he was all out again. So Stede was trying to mentally prepare himself for the fact that he and Ed may not be okay. That their relationship, yet again, had come to an end. He wants to believe it didn't, but he isn't even looking at Stede like he used to. Doesn't even seem to want to be around him and it hurts. It hurts so fucking much.

He held back the tears while Edward was still in the room, not wanting to cry in front of him. Not wanting to annoy him or make him feel guilt tripped, but as soon as the door shut and he was alone, the tears broke through. He drops his head into his hands and lets out a strangled sob, feeling the urge to fall to his knees but he refrains. He can't let himself break. Not now. Not when he needed to be strong. For himself, for Edward, and for the crew. But he could at least cry a little - he could at least let out some of the pain, frustration and fear that was swallowing his heart. He missed izzy. He missed Ed. He didn't want things to fall apart anymore, but they were and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to fix them. He broke Edward... turned him back into Blackbeard, into a darker version, and he got Izzy killed... it had been his plan, after all. His plan that got Israel killed and god, he felt sick. He really did ruin everything, didn't he? "I'm sorry, Ed... I'm sorry, Izzy... He was right..." Stede speaks in between his cries. "I bring everything, everyone, to ruin.." He being Chauncey. His words still haunted Stede to this day.

It's then he hears that voice again, that oh so familiar voice, and it's comforting. It's soothing. And he knows just who the voice belongs to. Stede doesn't even think anything of it when he replies, so overcome with grief and guilt and fear. Forgetting that he's even supposed to be alone. "No, it is my fault. I started all of this, Izzy, I--"

Wait.

Stede stops and then turns and there he is. There he stands.

Stede lets out a loud, high pitched scream before he runs and practically dives behind the desk. He hits the chair and then the floor with a thud, but the adrenaline from the shock blocks out any pain he'd likely feel from that crash to the floor. So he withdraws the dagger from the sheath on his waist and slowly peaks his head out from behind the desk, his eyes widening when he sees Izzy standing there. In the flesh. Or... whatever he is? "W-what are you!? You're not real... you can't be real. I-Izzy died... I... I saw him. He... he..." A thick swallow, visibly shaking. "You're not here... I must be seeing things. This is all a dream. Yes.... yes, a dream... a bad dream." He breathes out. "A really, really bad dream..." That could also explain Edward's change in behavior. But then he wouldn't be feeling pain if it was a dream, was he? The slightest movement from Izzy has Stede ducking down behind the desk again and after a few seconds he peaks back up, the grip on his dagger tightening, his hand shaking with the rest of his body.

Stede flinches when Edward raises his voice, causing the man to step back. There's something akin to fear in his eyes, widening as tears fill them. Ed has never yelled at him like that. He knew it was because he dared to say Izzy's name, but he hoped it would calm Ed, not anger him further. "I may not have known him the way you did, Ed, I know that, but during our time apart I started to. He told me about the things that happened after I..." He sighs. "After I left." Stede still hates himself for it. "He wasn't just worried for the crew, Ed, he was worried about you." Because he wasn't just harming the crew, he was harming himself. It was a path of self destruction that Izzy was trying to save him from as much as he was trying to save the crew. "Blamed himself for it..." He didn't know how much Edward knew about that, but god, he didn't want this happening again. He knew Izzy wouldn't either which is why he said those things. "It wasn't even his fault. It was mine."

Because if he hadn't left, none of that would have happened. Edward wouldn't have been heartbroken. He wished he could apologize to Izzy again...

"I'm not expecting an apology." Stede says out loud to himself, though he isn't quite sure why he says that... to himself? Like the voice in his head was telling him something about Ed apologizing... he was starting to worry himself. Shaking his head, he steps closer to the desk once more when Edward stated they do things his way.

"Then we burn their world." Stede agrees. After all, they started this war and... well, as much as Stede wanted to avoid bloodshed, he was a pirate. He chose this life and he was going to stay with it. With Edward. "But you talk to me, Ed. Any plan you have, any idea, you talk to me first. We do this together." Only then does he take a drink from the bottle. And winces. Then he holds it out to him. "Agreed?"

[zerachu]

mixed bag

[alphacygni]

from Just What You Sow on AO3

Izzy’s eyes were full of blood. Something had caught him across the forehead—shrapnel, a close call from a cutlass, he couldn’t remember. He didn’t recall much at all. Just the shouts of being boarded, the boom of the cannons, the splash of those thrown overboard. 

And the hot, stinking squelch of the saber as it had run through each and every one of them. Whatever darkness he’d marinated in the last few days had taken up residence in him, moved him like a beast, starving and feral. 

His hands were covered in blood, too.

In the end it had taken five of them to pin him down. He’d sent one ahead to his maker; another would be dead soon, if he was any judge of neck wounds.

But it was over now. They’d tied his hands and feet, disposed of his sword and his hidden knives. They’d carried him here, to the captain’s quarters, thrown him to the ground and left him, blinded by blood.

It had taken him a few moments to realize he wasn’t alone.

The room was dark and still: only a single beam of sunlight sliced down the middle. The man on the other side was quiet for a long time, obscured in the shadows, and if it hadn’t been for the wafting smoke and the occasional orange smolder of a pipe, Izzy might have doubted he was there at all.

“If you’re going to kill me, just get on with it,” Izzy said finally, feeling the keen edge of adrenaline wane. Beneath it, the memories were still there. They were worse than whatever this man could concoct certainly. He pulled at his restraints, felt the rend of skin and muscle and a hundred small injuries as he did. It kept the edge sharp.

The slow sizzle of a pipe. “Do you want to die?”

Izzy had managed to stand, but he still couldn’t make the man out. “Already seen worse.” 

“And done worse. They tell me you took out a full dozen of my men.” 

“Untie me, and we’ll make it a lucky thirteen.”

The low chuckle threatened like thunder. “You know, I’m tempted. I am.” The pipe was set aside with a clatter, and the man stood, crossed into the light. “You might actually be a challenge.”

Izzy blinked. Between the blood and the sun, it was hard to be certain, but…

“What’s your name, crewman?” 

No, it wasn’t hard to be certain. Not with the twisted black whiskers and the dark, mad eyes staring down into his. Though he couldn’t have been any older than Izzy, Izzy had never seen a young man like this: a man who looked as much a vengeful spirit of the deep as he did flesh and blood. His face as it watched was calm but menacing, the sea before a terrible storm. 

It promised pain. 

“You’re Blackbeard.”

“I asked your name.” Something in the way he said it made it clear he would do more than ask if need be. 

“Israel. Israel Hands.” 

“Israel.” He ran the sounds around his mouth as if trying to decide whether to spit them back out. “Israel Hands.” 

Izzy forced himself to look in the other man’s eyes. 

They were mad, yes. Born of the devil, they’d said of him, and Izzy saw why. But there was something darker and sadder there: something that, a week ago, Izzy might not have recognized. Something the pipe dulled only just enough.

“I’d like you on my crew, Israel Hands.”

“I’m no pirate.”

A twinkle of amusement in those dark eyes. “Oh no?”

“Pirates are scum.” 

“Unlike you, Mister Hands. You’re better than that, are you?”

“Better than you? Yeah, maybe.”

The twinkle caught, lit. Slowly, gaze flat and unerring as a shark’s, the other man circled behind him. The telltale whisper of a knife leaving its sheath seemed unnaturally loud.

Izzy closed his eyes, readied himself. 

The rope fell from his hands. He hardly had a moment to register it before the rope from around his feet was gone, too.

“I’ve been looking to meet a man better than me,” he laughed as he circled back around. He looked as if Izzy had just given him a wonderful gift. “Let’s hope you don’t disappoint.” He held out the knife, handle first.

Izzy didn’t take it.

“Come on. Number thirteen, remember?” Blackbeard smiled. There was something in it that put a shiver through him. Adrenaline spiked again. 

Izzy took the knife and went for the heart.

He wasn’t sure, exactly, what had happened. He’d put a blade through plenty of men that morning, charged at breasts and buried it to the hilt just that way. 

It didn’t even approach Blackbeard. Instead Izzy found himself face down on the floor. 

That chuckle again. “Alright. We won’t count that one. Try again.”

Izzy growled as he stood. Whatever madness had possessed him earlier flared, and the furnace of his belly caught. He wanted nothing more than to see the color of this man’s blood.

He got closer this time. The knife almost met the man’s side, but he managed to push it back at the last moment. This happened enough times that Blackbeard unsheathed another blade. More than once, Izzy’s met with a twin. 

Finally, after more passes than he could count, he was rewarded with a red scratch across brown skin. 

Of course, his own arm was sliced open from shoulder to elbow, too. The pain flashed white behind his eyes, and, in that blink, a fist found his jaw. He was on the floor, then, with a boot to the soft, struggling flesh of his throat.

He couldn’t breathe.

There was a slow laugh. 

“Not bad.” 

The boot moved, but only a little. Just enough for Izzy to hiss in a thin stream of air.  

“No one else got a hit in the first time,” Blackbeard said, holding up his arm. A rivulet of blood made its way from his wrist to pool at the elbow. It looked bright against the dots of the black serpent tattooed there. “Course no one else was willing to take a cut like that to do it, either.”

Looking thoughtful, Blackbeard moved his boot, going down to one knee beside where Izzy lay. 

He held his bleeding arm out. “Alright, dog. Clean up your mess.” 

Izzy coughed, still struggling to regain his air. What the fuck had he said?

There was a hand in his hair, dragging him up, pulling him forward.

Blackbeard presented the wound again. “I said, clean it.” He pushed it to Izzy’s face, blood wet on his lips. 

The pull on his hair stretched even further.

Everything else disappeared.

Still gasping, Izzy stuck his tongue out, tasted. It tasted of salt and iron. The warmth was strangely comforting.

When he looked up at Blackbeard’s eyes, they were still mad, yes, but there was something rapt there, too. Brighter than it had been before. 

He was enjoying this.

Izzy swallowed. Despite the scream of pain from his arm, the taste of blood on his lips…so was he. It was that same rush but more. Adrenaline and pain and…something else.

He ran his tongue up the length of Blackbeard’s wound and was rewarded with a groan.

Without warning, Blackbeard backhanded him across the jaw. 

Izzy was back on his belly. 

“Good.” Blackbeard’s voice was rougher than just a few moments before as he regained his feet. “Not untrainable, I see.”

At that, Izzy’s pride ached. He made his way back to his knees, then feet. He still stood a good half-foot shorter than the other man, but he refused to feel lower. 

Blackbeard backhanded him again. 

This time he stumbled but didn’t fall. 

“Do you want to die, Israel Hands?” He stepped forward, reared back and hit him again.

His jaw gave a crack: it was a pain Izzy had never experienced.

He fell to his knees, panting. 

“I asked if you want to die, Israel Hands?” 

Izzy breathed. It was all he could do.

Blackbeard knelt, leaned in until they were face to face. The look in his eyes made Izzy think, strangely, of the nautilus. Of its shining nacre, wrapped and beautiful around something hidden.  

“You’ve seen worse than death, you say. Many things are. So if you truly wish…” These words were spoken more gently, but they were not a comfort. Not meant to be, maybe.

When Izzy searched himself, he found the desire to die gone. It was all gone, somehow. All he felt now was the pain. White, cracking pain that had filled up all the empty places inside him.

How the other man had done it, he didn’t know.

When their eyes met again, Blackbeard smiled. It was oddly soft, through the haze of blood. 

“Scum we may be, Israel Hands. But it’s the best way to avoid being at the mercy of scum, wouldn’t you agree?”

The other man traced a finger along his jaw where Izzy was sure a line of bruises would soon bloom.

“I could use someone like you,” Blackbeard whispered, almost, it seemed, to himself. 

There was a contour to the word ‘use’ that fit inside Izzy like a missing piece. 

He didn’t remember saying yes, after. He didn’t remember, but he must have. 

He must have just before he passed out, falling forward into the arms of the most fearsome pirate the seas had ever known.

from Just What You Sow on AO3

[the-great-lightwood-bane]

U — Understanding [Shadowhunters Ace ABC]

Malec | Rated general | tw internalised & institutionalised homophobia | Bingo Square: “Love is Never Wrong”

Summary: Isabelle realised that her brother was not straight when she was fifteen and he was sixteen.

Or: Izzy loves her brother, but some wounds go deeper than she can fix. (Ft. gratuitous light/dark metaphors, sibling antics, and angst with a happy ending.)

A/N: The letter ‘U’ for the Shadowhunters Ace ABC, an event from the Shadowhunters Ace Mini Bang Discord. Also for the Shadowhunters Pride Bingo presented by the Malec Discord Server. @malecdiscordserver

Thanks to @maplemachiato for beta'ing this for me!

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

Isabelle realised that her brother was not straight when she was fifteen and he was sixteen. 

It was shortly after Alec had become Jace’s parabatai, and that was also when she understood why Alec had hesitated so long on the day of the ceremony: he’d known that his feelings for Jace were not what a parabatai should feel. She hadn’t seen it at first — Alec was simply like that, far more interested in rules and politics than in romantic relationships; she’d long wondered if he was ace, or if it was just who he was. 

(As it turned out, it was a bit of both: Alec was grayromantic, but he also had responsibilities and a duty that prevented him from dating. Until Magnus, that is, but now she was getting ahead of herself.) 

The realisation came as she watched them train. Alec was all pale skin and dark hair, while Jace was gold; both were shirtless, dripping with sweat and warm with exertion. They’d started with staffs but switched to hand-to-hand soon enough; she and Alec were the only ones who could stand against Jace for any length of time, but this time, Alec lost. His eyes flicked to Jace’s chest, only for a moment, and then away; Jace didn’t catch the glance, only the hesitation in his step, and Alec was on the ground in a moment. He got up laughing and immediately challenged Jace to a rematch, but there was something darker, pained, guilty in his gaze. 

Jace didn’t catch the glance, but Izzy did, and suddenly she understood it all. Alec’s lack of attraction to girls, his discomfort when Jace flirted with them, the looks he sent Jace. Alec liked boys, not girls, and it was tearing him apart. 

It wasn’t, Izzy knew, only about Jace. Yes, Alec looked at Jace in a way that was not brotherly, but it was more of an infatuation with the only good-looking boy he knew well, rather than anything else — with time, Alec would learn that what he felt for Jace wasn’t that kind of love at all. 

But this wasn’t just about Jace. Alec looked at other boys, too, a quick glance up and down that Izzy only noticed because she’d learned to pay attention; always, when he pulled his eyes away, there’d be that darkness in them. Guilt, for something that he could not control but blamed himself for anyway. 

She wanted to help — Alec had always protected her, whether it be from a skinned knee or the Clave’s wrath, and she wanted, just once, to return the favour. So she brought it up a few weeks later. 

Jace had left the training room already, and Alec was putting his staff away, that dark look in his eyes. He raised an eyebrow at Izzy when she didn’t follow Jace. “Iz? Everything okay?”

“No,” she said, but Alec immediately looked worried so she added, “I’m fine.”

“Is it Jace?” Alec inquired. 

“No, it’s you,” she huffed, looking at him insistently until he met her eyes. “Alec, I know you’re—”

A flash of understanding, quickly hidden beneath a harsh mask. “We’re not talking about this,” Alec said sharply, and turned to go. 

They both had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and this was one argument Izzy wasn’t going to let him win. She followed him, walking quickly to keep pace with his longer strides. “Yes, we are.”

Alec didn’t bother replying, only sped up until she was jogging to keep up. She didn’t let him get ahead of her, however; that would mean he could shut himself in his room and refuse to come out. Recognising that she wasn’t going to let this go, Alec changed course and headed for his office. 

He sat down at his desk — still sweaty, which, gross, but it was really her fault since she’d refused to let him escape her via taking a shower — and started working on a report. Izzy stood in front of him, silent. 

A minute. Two. This was a battle of wills, and Izzy would be damned if she let her brother off on this. 

Usually, he’d give in at the seventy-three second mark — sixty seconds as he waited her out, then a bit more time for him to be stubborn, and then he’d raise his head and ask what she wanted. Now, though, he continued working despite her presence, though he didn’t appear to be taking in anything he was reading. 

Three minutes. Izzy didn’t move. 

At the two-hundred-and-twelve second mark, Alec sighed, signed a report, and looked up as though they hadn’t just spent nearly four minutes sitting in silence. “Yes?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know,” Izzy said casually, sliding into the seat across from him. 

Alec raised an eyebrow in feigned ignorance of her point, but there was perhaps the faintest hint of vulnerability in his eyes — something visible through the dark. 

“Love is never wrong — it’s them, not you,” she said softly, pressing the advantage, but apparently she’d made a misstep because Alec’s eyes abruptly shuttered. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told her coldly, eyes dark and hopeless as a pair of black holes. She felt her heart sink at the harshness in his voice, not really directed at her. 

She looked back at him, desperate and confused, and he almost faltered, but held strong. “They’re the ones who decide what’s wrong, Izzy-belle,” Alec said gently, heartbreakingly, and Izzy suddenly understood. 

It wasn’t that Alec hated himself, or that their society had pushed him to believe that he was wrong. It was that he knew, always, that loving men would be disastrous — that if he let that part of himself out, it would break down the life he lived. His career would be gone, yes; perhaps more importantly, his ability to protect her and Jace would be gone, and that was something that Alec couldn’t allow. Alec was gay, but that was nothing but a weakness that he had to suppress — not because he thought it was wrong, but because the world did. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, uselessly. Obsolete. The black holes in Alec’s face looked like they’d never light up again; he inclined his head toward the door, and she left in a silence that echoed in the dark. 

Alec’s future, she felt with a sudden, terrifying certainty, would not be happy. 

She could see it all happening, unrolling like a dire prophecy in her mind: years and years of this, of shame and pain and humiliation and self-hatred, years of suppressing himself for his siblings’ sakes — and then a marriage, loveless and joyless, to whatever woman would benefit the family the most. Alec’s own happiness, worthless. Not relevant to the equation. The dark in Alec’s eyes would never fade, never lighten. Black holes forever. 

She didn’t try to talk to him about it again; it would not help. He knew that she, at least, wouldn’t hate him for it, and perhaps that would be a weight off his mind; but by making him talk about it, she’d brought those black holes to the surface again, and she couldn’t bear to do so again. 

So the years unrolled as she’d hoped they wouldn’t and known they would: Alec grew older, shoulders broadening to accommodate his height, to bear the weight of an ever-increasing responsibility. He still looked at Jace, but he’d grown better at hiding it, better at keeping himself hidden away beneath the dark. He was Acting Head now, in name as well as in reality — really, he was more of a Head than Maryse or Robert had ever been, but that wouldn’t make him happy. 

Sure, there were moments of joy: on a hunt; when Maryse smiled at him proudly; when Izzy took down a Shadowhunter twice her size who’d dared to suggest she couldn’t fight in heels; when Jace grinned and told him that three come in, three come out — but it was only ever on the surface, a glint of light dancing just past the event horizon. Never a glow that meant Alec was happy.

Until Magnus Bane. When Alec looked at him, it was like he couldn’t quite hold in the attraction — like the light was spilling out despite Alec’s attempts to hold it back. That immediate infatuation was new; Izzy could tell that he liked Magnus more than he’d liked anyone else before (perhaps because he was grayromantic, perhaps simply because Magnus was like nobody else in their lives), and she hoped with a sudden desperation that he’d let himself go for once. The darkness abated, faded, almost went away—

—and then it was back, dark as ever, black holes replacing that tentative light as Alec told her that he was engaged to Lydia. 

It was what she’d imagined, what she’d never wanted, what she’d feared the most. A perfect political marriage, loveless lifeless lightless like Alec’s eyes. And it was all the worse because she’d hoped, for a happy golden moment, that Magnus Bane could chase that nightmarish dark away. 

That was why she sent him the invitation to the wedding. Alec wouldn’t make a move on his own; she couldn’t take that step for either of them, but she could open the door, let the light in and hope that they would step into it. 

When the door opened and Magnus came in, she saw the light burst suddenly into Alec’s eyes. Her brother stormed down the aisle and pulled a man into a kiss, and suddenly, the future seemed brighter.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Ok I do want to talk about lighting actually. Lighting is so important for skin tone I'm not even joking. Like I saw a disagreement the other day where a piece of art of ed was drawn a bit on the lighter side and I didn't think it was out of his skin tone range by any means, perhaps the background would suggest that there was less light in the picture than the skin tone would suggest. But basically the artist was having a disagreement with a rather polite anon about skin tone and I was like, this is 1000% a lighting issue. I'm gonna drop some examples of lighting.

Ok here we have three pictures of the same fucking guy right. His skin pigmentation is the same, he's not tanner in any of these images. And yet.... When I go to color pick

All of these colors are Taika Waititi's skin tone. One of them is fucking purple. So obviously not all colors that we can pick are created equal. Now if I were incredibly fucking lazy and didn't care how racist I was being and I wanted to draw Izzy and Fang, but I didn't want to bother with two separate skin colors, and so I just made em both white and then someone called me out on it I could do something like this

And then say, They're both standing on the deck. I picked from the most highlighted portions of their faces. But you'll notice that fangs got a bright whitish light shining on him from one side. where as Izzy is in pretty neutral , muted lighting

Now if you actually gave a fuck, which why are you even making art if you don't give a fuck tbh, You would do something more like this.

Now sometimes it is an honest mistake. Drawing Fang and Izzy the same skin tone never is, because I fell like your "i've fucked up" alarm bells should go off long before you post it to the internet. But I'm a Stede/Ed/Jack/Izzy enjoyer and pictures of those 4 actors in the same room don't exist, so I have to either guestimate skin tone or go searching for pictures that are roughly in the same lighting. And Even in a picture like this if you pick from literally the darkest spot on Izzy's face his contour will be much darker than Fangs because his face touching Fang's shoulder is creating a much darker shadow than any shadow that exists on Fangs face. That said, this is what separates us from the AI. We have critical thinking skills and we can, assuming we're not colorblind, look at hues and tones and values and evaluate whether they're correct or whether this particular photograph isn't really working and we need to go find another one.

That said one of the most common lighting mistakes I see, and I understand completely why it happens, is using a picture of a actor in studio lighting, which brightens the apparent color of their skin significantly, drawn against a background that would suggest that the character isn't in that sort of lighting. The reason this happens is because if you google an actor the first pics that show up are all professionally shot in studio lighting. I would take a screen cap from a show over that 90% of the time.

All of this is tangential to the issue I didn't mean to derail I just feel like it's useful for artists to have this info so they don't mess up in problematic ways, and it's useful for non artists to have this info so that they can recognize when an artist is being disingenuous.

was just casually scrolling twt and came across p recent art of Fang/Izzy/Lucius/Pete and Fang was literally the same color as Izzy 🥴

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Queen of Underland: Izzy

CW: Panic attack, child of recovering adult whumpee, anger as trauma response, referenced noncon kissing and touching (nonsexual), childhood bullying, referenced past domestic and child abuse, some gendered and ableist insults (kid to kid and nothing too intense - just fair warning)

Izzy, at nine years old, has been free with her family for almost five years now, and her mother has been in prison on a life sentence for two. With attention, affection, and therapy, she has blossomed into a quiet kid who nearly always has her nose in a book.

When two classmates try to put her in the center of a storm, Izzy finds something inside herself that she has pushed down for so long she had nearly forgotten she ever had it.

Izzy finds her father’s anger.

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

---

Izzy sits at her desk, perfectly still, reading a book while the teacher’s out of the room speaking with another teacher in low voices, just in the hallway. The sun shines in the windows that line the wall, lighting the pages of her book, and one of Izzy’s hands rubs repeatedly over the seam down the side of her uniform skirt, the only movement she makes beyond her eyes.

Around her, the others are whispering, passing notes and giggling (except for Noah, who has his own book open, and Jack, who is drawing his story about giant killer robots in a notebook, and Sarah, Jack’s twin sister who is trying to build a tower of pencils and paper), but Izzy barely notices them.

When the teacher comes back in, Izzy will not be whispering, or giggling, or doing anything that might bother her. When the teacher comes back, Izzy will be quiet, and good, and put her book back into her desk and look up with her hands in her lap. She’s the quietest kid in class, she heard the teacher say so.

At home, she’s not always quiet anymore, but at school she still holds a balance, protecting herself and keeping herself safe in the best and truest way she knows - by simply being exactly what the adults need her to be, and keeping all her real feelings and thoughts inside her head.

Still, while the teacher’s out of the room, she takes a few minutes to read while she has the chance. Her heart beats cold and heavy in her chest as she scans over the words on the page, biting down on her lower lip, worrying at a bit of chapped skin. Her left hand settles over the soft texture of pages nearly yellowed with time spent in the school library being held by hundreds of small hands. The fingers on her right hand feel over the seam of her skirt, right along the outside of her leg, again and again.

Fierce anxiety, and a little fear, swirl inside her for the characters that exist only in ink and her imagination.

Two Earthmen entered, but instead of advancing into the room, they placed themselves one on each side of the door, and bowed deeply. They were followed immediately by the last person whom anyone had expected or wished to see: the Lady of the Green Kirtle, the Queen of Underland. She stood dead still in the doorway, and they could see her eyes moving as she took in the whole situation—the three strangers, the silver chair destroyed, and the Prince free, with his sword in his hand.

“I think I like Karissa,” Henry Fitzgerald, who sits at her left, says to his best friend Kevin Magden - not to be confused with Kevin Michaelson, and didn’t the teacher sigh over that sometimes. He has to speak over and around Izzy’s head. 

“Like, like like her?” Kevin Magden asks, sounding half-horrified, half-fascinated. Izzy fights not to roll her eyes, and tries to focus back on her book, on the entrance of the Queen, on the Prince freed but faced with great danger.

The Queen of the Underland, the lady who held the Prince in the dark for ten whole years, that’s older than Izzy even is. Coming into the room to find the children and the Prince, and her having no control any longer. 

She turned very white; but Jill thought it was the sort of whiteness that comes over some people's faces not when they are frightened but when they are angry. For a moment the Witch fixed her eyes on the Prince, and there was murder in them. Then she seemed to change her mind.

“Run,” Izzy whispers, to the children, to Puddleglum the strange marsh creature, to the freed Prince. “Don’t talk to her, just run. Don’t listen to whatever she says, don’t.”

“What are you even saying, Izzy?” Kevin Magden says.

“She’s all in her book like always,” Henry Fitzgerald says, shrugging. He makes some sort of gesture - Izzy doesn’t look up to see it - and the two of them laugh. She doesn’t care about that. The story is far, far more important than they are anyway. “Anyway, Kev, I like-... yeah, I think I like like her. I’m gonna tell her at break.”

“Gross,” Kevin says, but he sounds fascinated. “What if she says she doesn’t like-like you back?”

Henry shrugs again - Izzy can see the movement from the corner of her eye. “Dunno. Maybe kiss her.”

“Gross,” Kevin repeats, much more emphatically. 

Izzy tries to keep her mind on the page, but shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She closes her eyes briefly, thinking of the Queen of the Underland, standing in the doorway. She imagines her with very white skin and dark, long fingernails, wearing a long dress that brushes the earthen floor, making a soft swish-swish sound as she walks. In her mind, the Queen of the Underland has very bright blue eyes and lots of curly, dark brown hair that is threaded with silver down her back, wild and uncontrolled, like it can reach out and grab you and drag you into the dark with her.

She feels like the Queen is not a stranger to her, and not hard to picture at all. Try as she might, she can’t make the Queen in her imagination look like the description of the Queen in the book. She only ever looks one way - beautiful and wicked, deceptively soft, eyes brilliant and shining too bright when the Prince is in pain.

Will she hurt him, while the children have to stand and watch and can’t save him at all?

"Leave us," she said to the two Earthmen. "And let none disturb us till I call, on pain of death." The gnomes padded away obediently, and the Witch-queen shut and locked the door.

"How now, my lord Prince," she said. "Has your nightly fit not yet come upon you, or is it over so soon? Why stand you here unbound? Who are these aliens? And is it they who have destroyed the chair which was your only safety?"

Izzy can hear the Queen’s voice, musical lilt, simpering sweet and dangerous. Why are you leaving me? How dare you. Come back here, Jax, you can’t leave, you’re mine. 

Kevin and Henry are still talking, but Izzy doesn’t hear them any longer. She’s lost in the panic rising inside of her. Run, she thinks, in a scream, a shout in her mind. It isn’t that she doesn’t understand it’s just a book, but that she is still scared, frightened for the prince whose father had grown older while he was gone, whose family must have missed him so much. She is frightened for the children who do not understand the witch or how to fight her. She’s frightened even for Puddleglum, who only wants to help, to do the right thing. Don’t talk to her, don’t give her the chance, just run. She’ll make you hers again. She swallows - it feels like her heart beats itself right up into her throat, like she is swallowing around it - and keeps reading.

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

“I’ll kiss her even if she doesn’t like me back, anyway.”

Izzy’s breath catches, and she blinks, feeling like she has been pulled out of a spell herself. She looks up, glancing sidelong at Henry, who isn’t looking at her at all, just talking to Kevin. “Hen-... Henry-... what did you say?”

“None of your business,” Henry replies, voice harsh and loud enough to get some of the others to look over at them, and Izzy’s shoulders creep up towards her chin, face burning red. She hates when everyone looks at her, hates it more than anything. Henry looks back at Kevin. “At break, I will. I’ll tell her, and I’ll kiss her, whether she wants to or not.”

Izzy looks back down, but the words on the page run together, she can’t see them any longer, they’re just squiggles, meaningless little lines. What I want just matters more, whispers a nightmare she can never quite feel woken up from. She tries, she really does, to focus again on the book but she sees secondly, she took out a musical instrument- 

Izzy slams the little paperback shut, sticks it back in her desk, and says in a thin voice, “You can’t do that if someone doesn’t want you to, it’s wrong.”

“It’s not a big deal, Izzy, geez.” Kevin on her other side speaks up now, and between them she feels like she’s being battered, tossed on a sea, shoved down, locked in the dark. Izzy stares down at her desk, then, letting her eyes lose focus on the wavy colors in the polished wood. Light brown, almost auburn, and darker brown, almost a chocolate color, very like the hair on Izzy’s own head, clipped short and spiky.

Very very like the wavy, thick curls that ran down her mother’s back, that smothered Izzy in the smell of her shampoo and perfume. 

“It is a big deal,” Izzy whispers. “It’s wrong, to make someone kiss you. It’s wrong. It-... it hurts them. It matters what they want, too.”

“Ugh. It's just a kiss. You’re bonkers, you know that?" Henry leans over, almost in her space, and Izzy sits back as far as she can until she presses her back hard into her chair, enough to hurt. “Absolutely mad.” 

“No, I’m not,” Izzy mumbles, but panic twists even worse inside her. Is she? Her mom is. Isn’t she? Don’t you have to be, to be evil? Dr. Marty says no, that those two things are totally separate and people are just bad at understanding that people can be really, really, really bad and still be sane - that bad people almost always are - and Dr. Marty knows everything about crazy and not-crazy, that’s his whole job, and she’s not like her mother anyway, she’s not. 

“Are so,” Henry taunts, falling easily into the familiar cadence of mockery, and Izzy’s face burns brighter and hotter as the room begins to fall quiet, other conversations falling away as the others realize there might be some entertainment now. Her breath comes faster, and she closes her hands into fists at her side, fighting to control the way the fear and a new rise of anger start to twist around inside her stomach, making it flip, making her feel sick. “You’re bonkers for sure, Izzy Gallagher.”

“I-I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not! It’s not right to kiss people who you don’t know if they want to or not! It’s not!”

The room feels suddenly too small, and too big - she can’t escape Henry’s bean-breath and she can’t run far enough to get to the door, she can’t run at all. Some small voice inside her demands she stay still, shut her mouth, never talk again. She should have just finished her book, seen how the Prince would escape the Queen of the Underland, seen if the children help him or just weigh him down, one more bit of stone tying him to Underland and maybe he wishes he could just leave them behind, if they bother him, if they’re no good-

“Ewwwww, who would want to kiss Izzy?” A girl near her wrinkles her nose - Lindsey Smith, Izzy’s brain supplies, in an airless dizzy spin of details that aren’t important but she can’t stop circling around. “She looks like a boy.”

“Hey, back off.” Izzy, surprised, glances over her shoulder to find Noah Hawkins looking up from his own book, eyes narrowed. “Izzy’s hair is cool, and it’s cooler than yours anyway, Lindsey-kins. You just wish you looked as good as she does.”

“Shut up! You just say that because you’re a boy, of course you think boy hair looks cool.” Lindsey sticks her tongue out, crossing her arms in front of herself. She has big poofy hair like Izzy’s would be if she didn’t have her dad cut it so short, held back with a clip. Hers is red, though.

“There’s no such thing,” Sarah says from over by the window. “As boy or girl hair, I mean. There’s no such thing. It’s all just hair. Izzy’s hair does look cool. You all should leave it alone, Mrs. Brent is going to be back inside any second and we’ll all get in trouble if there’s fighting.”

“Yeah, Izzy,” Henry hisses at her, leaning in close. Too close. She forgets how to breathe. “Stop causing trouble, Izzy.”

“I’m not,” Izzy whispers. Her face feels like it might light on fire. Her fingernails dig into her palms, until she feels flashes of pain, creating crescents that could take hours to fully fade if she did it hard enough. “I was-... I was just-”

“Just butting in where you don’t belong,” Henry finishes for her. “It’s not your business.”

“It’s-... but, but I just-” Her voice is fading fast, airy and breathless, barely a whisper. Quiet little Izzy Gallagher, who never stands up for herself, who lets everyone talk to her like this, who never says a word she isn’t asked to say. Her fear batters her with wings inside her chest, but beneath it is something else entirely, trying to rise up and take over her mind and mouth. Anger. She and Dr. Marty had talked about it, about how it was a normal feeling to feel, but every swell of it within her was met by the rising tide of fear in response.

She never lets herself be angry. That would make her like her mother, who was angry so much, and she’s not like that, she’s not. 

She doesn’t think, in the moment, that her mother isn’t the only parent who knows how to be angry.

The thoughts are not conscious. They aren’t driven by any kind of logic, they loop and swirl around each other. They flash bright like light in the back of her mind. She thinks about the story, the book inside her desk, the way the Prince fell upon the silver chair, how he swung his sword in dim light. 

She thinks about the prince walking out the hotel doors with a baby in one arm and a little girl on his hip, a backpack heavy against his back, into the sunlight outside. She can remember the way he breathed quick and shallow against her hair, the racing of his heart as he asked her to be very quiet, and very brave. She didn’t know he was scared, he didn’t say it, he was just the Prince, shining in the sunlight, asking for directions to the train station and going in a suit to court later and the silver gave way before the sword’s edge like string, and in a moment a few twisted fragments, shining on the floor, were all that was left of the chair. 

“But-but-but-but, I just-” Henry is still going, and Izzy’s eyes burn as hot as her face, lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace like a snarl. “Just shut up, Izzy Gallagher, nobody cares what you think.”

“Don’t be a dick, I care,” Noah says, from the back of the room, his voice getting louder, now. Other students whoop and go ooooh, Noah likes Izzy, but Noah ignores them, and he doesn’t turn even a little bit red. “Izzy hasn’t done anything wrong to you.” She barely knows Noah, he’s in her class but they don’t talk or anything. This is the first time he’s done more than help her with a math problem, this is the first time she’s heard him even talk in class without the teacher calling on him.

But it feels good to have somebody else stand up for her. 

“She’s butting in!” Henry protests, hands up like he’s the innocent one. “Kevin and I were just talking-”

“About kissing Karissa Bellweather!” Izzy half-shouts. “From the other class! You were talking about kissing someone even if she doesn’t want to! You said you would even if she said no! That’s not right!”

“Ew,” Someone says, Izzy doesn’t know who. Her blood is rushing in her ears almost too loud to hear. “Do you like-like Karissa Bellweather, Henry?”

“No! I don’t!” Henry looks stricken. He hadn’t expected her to just say it out loud like that to everybody. “Gallagher’s lying! She’s a liar!”

“I’m not! I’m not a fucking liar!” Her voice is too loud and she claps her hands over her mouth. Don’t cry, she thinks to herself, and her own thought-voice twists into her mother’s sharper edges. Her palms ache and she wonders if her nails have broken skin, but the wonder is faint, and faded. She feels a hand pressed against the back of her neck, the Queen of the Underland’s voice beside her ear. Don’t cry, Bella. You’re so ugly when you cry. Jax, get her out of my sight. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy says, voice trembling. She isn’t really talking to Henry, not anymore. “Leave-... leave me alone.”

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, huh? Gonna throw some punches?” Kevin is too close on the other side, now. They’re both too close. Izzy’s heart beats all out of time, and when she goes to breathe, it… it doesn’t work. Her breath is stuck in her throat, halfway down. The air just… sits there, and she can’t hitch it in or exhale it. It feels like her throat is closing up, she’ll choke on nothing, black out and fall down. “Bonkers Izzy Gallagher, gonna fight us, are you?”

“I-I could-” Her voice is a whimper, and Izzy closes her eyes. 

“Could not,” Henry mocks, from his side of her. “You’re weak as a puppy. What are you gonna do?”

“Stop-... stop you from talking anymore,” Izzy says, and pushes her chair back with a loud scrape, getting to her feet. She should tell Dr. Marty about the book, she thinks, about the Queen of the Underland. She should tell her father about the Prince tied to the chair, and how he chopped the chair to bits, and she should tell them all about it, nice and safe and quiet at home, and not do what she’s afraid she’s going to do instead.

“How, gonna use something you learned from your mam in prison?” Henry asks, and Izzy remembers, all at once, how to breathe - but it’s all poison. She gulps in air, fear sparking up, her nerves feel like a hundred thousand tiny lightning strikes. She wants to run but she’s at school and there isn’t anywhere to go. 

“Wh-what?”

“My dad says your mam’s famous in the States for being in prison,” Henry says, leaping on this new tactic as the blood drains from Izzy’s face. He’s like animals on the nature shows that James likes to watch at home with their snack, circling a calf all alone. She’s a wounded baby calf, she’s weighing the herd down, she’s not strong or brave enough, she never was. “Did she teach you how to prison-fight? Ooooh, did she show you how to make a-” He jabs at the air, fist closed empty around an imaginary knife. “A prison-blade?”

“Shiv,” Kevin supplies helpfully.

“Right, that. Did your mam show you how to shank someone?”

“I don’t-... I don’t talk to my mom,” Izzy says, half-strangled by her own words. Her head is spinning. Her backpack is so far away. “We don’t-... we don’t have contact-... she doesn’t talk to me, isn’t allowed-”

“Oh, ew.” Henry sits back, and his face lights up with the simple cruelty of wounding someone who looks unable to fight back, of regaining his own stability and distracting everyone from his embarrassment by bringing up Izzy’s shame instead. “Are you so awful even your mam doesn’t want to talk to you?”

No. She doesn’t. Izzy’s lip trembles. She can’t bring herself to try and respond. She doesn’t, she doesn’t want to know anything about me at all. The last thing my mom ever said to me was yelling at me not to look so scared all the time and Dad said she never asked about me when he talked to her during the trial she never asked she never-

“Hey, Henry,” Someone says. “This is super gross stuff to say, isn’t it?” Izzy can’t see anything but Henry’s face, everything else is white noise and his words ringing through her, settling too deeply inside, meeting her own thoughts that match them, sometimes, on hard days. She never asked about me, she doesn’t even care that I hate her. Your mam is supposed to care if you hate her. You’re so awful your mom doesn’t even care about you. Your mam is supposed to-

“Yeah, Henry. That’s too far, that’s really mean.”

“She can’t help who her mam is, Hen.”

“Yeah, it’s not like she went to the mam shop and picked a rubbish one.”

“My dad was away for a while, Iz, I get it. My mam says it doesn’t say anything about us. People make bad choices is all.”

“I haven’t even seen my dad since I was five, Izzy, it’s okay, don’t be sad.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Izzy, don’t be sad, Henry’s just being awful.”

“Hey, she was awful first!”

“Go run up a pole, Henry. I like you, Izzy,” Sarah says, from the window, and moves in her direction. “Henry’s being a jerk, don’t listen to him. Don’t be sad. It’s okay.”

“I like you, too, you’re fun at break, you always have good ideas for games.” That’s Amira, using that certain kind of tone you use when you are trying to comfort an upset person, and Izzy feels some of the ice closing around her heart starting to warm up, to melt, to crack apart. 

Even Lindsey says, almost grudging, “Don’t be sad because of Henry, Izzy. He’s really mean sometimes.”

“I think you’re really cool,” Noah says, in a quieter voice. “Please don’t be sad. Want to play monsters at break?”

They don’t all hate her, they don’t. Someone puts a hand at her back, and she flinches, and they pull the hand away, but they don’t hate her for pulling away, they don’t hate her voice or her hair and they don’t hate her for speaking up, they don’t. 

Henry hasn’t given up, not yet. “Your mam’s in prison for being a shit to your dad, isn’t she?” 

Izzy doesn’t look at him, leaning down to pull the book out of her desk, trying to think. She can pull her backpack out and go the nurse, say she’s feeling sick, and maybe her dad will come get her and take her home. They can call Dr. Marty and she can tell him what happened and Dr. Marty will know what to tell her and her dad to work on for the next time. She can tell him that there were good things, too, like that Noah said he thinks she’s cool, and Amira likes her game ideas, and not everybody hates her because she has the wrong mom, and it’s going to be okay. 

It’s going to be okay.

“Henry, stop it,” She says, in a half-whisper. “Please stop.”

She can go to the nurse. Say she’s sick, it’s not a lie, her stomach is all twisted up in knots. It’ll be true, she’s not going to feel better. She has sweat on her forehead drying cold, making her shiver a little. It’s not a lie, being scared makes her sick, it’s a real sick, it’s not a lie. She gets sick a lot from being scared, Dr. Marty says it’s normal for kids who have anxiety, she has exercises to do, she can picture all her hurting thoughts and move them away, and… 

“That’s what my dad said.” Henry’s voice cuts in. “He said your mam’s a piece of fucking work and probably made your dad one, too-”

“Don’t talk about my dad!” She rounds on him, then, book clutched to her chest. “Don’t you dare, you don’t-... you don’t have any right! You don’t know what happened, you don’t know us, you don’t know anything! My dad is better than yours ever could be! And, and stronger, and braver, too!”

Izzy Gallagher, quiet as a mouse, teacher’s pet from sheer terrified inaction, who always sits still and listens carefully and takes direction so well and is just an absolute pleasure to have in class, Mr. Gallagher, an absolute pleasure, is shouting and doesn’t realize it until the words have left her mouth. 

She should stop, some part of her brain begs her to stop, but the anger is suddenly larger than the fear and she is a little girl with a sword. Where they came from, and what she and her father and her little brother have survived, is a silver chair she will hack to bits until all that’s left shines like jewelry when held up to the light.

Henry’s eyes widen, they are big saucers, and they are very bright and very blue.

“My dad is amazing.” She can’t stop shouting. She’s not even trying to stop any longer. “He lived through really bad stuff and he still got us away from it! Even though it would have been easier to go by himself and leave us, he didn’t, and my mom is evil, and I’m not, because you don’t have to be what your mom is and I’m not ever going to be like that, but you are evil, Henry Fitzgerald, and you don’t even have an excuse! You’re-... you’re mean for no reason, and I hope Karissa spits in your face and kicks you between your legs as hard as she fucking can! You are an asshole, Henry Fitzgerald, and you can go fuck yourself all the way home!”

“Isabella Gallagher!” Mrs. Brent’s voice is shocked, and the words die in Izzy’s throat, as she slowly turns to see the teacher standing in the doorway, staring at her like she’d grown three heads and all of them have fangs. 

Izzy feels like she has fangs, too. And claws, like she is a monster herself. She should be scared, or sad, or ashamed of herself, but all she feels is anger burning bright and hot and good in her veins, louder than fear. Angry feels safer than scared. She feels proud of herself, a feeling so unfamiliar it seems like it must be someone else’s. Sarah, close to her now, whispers, go Izzy, in a soft impressed voice, and Izzy feels her eyes burn again, more than before, but for a different reason. 

They don’t hate her, and Henry isn’t saying bad things about her dad any longer, because of her. They don’t hate her.

“You might be even cooler now,” Amira says, and the teacher shushes all of them and points Izzy out, telling her to go see the Head Teacher. Any other Izzy would slink out with her shoulders hunched, full of fear, but this Izzy feels the buzz of standing up for herself running through her and warming all the cold, chasing the heavy hand on her neck away. This Izzy walks with her chin up and her shoulders back.

Some of the warm feeling goes away when the Head Teacher calls her dad to come get her, and says in her stern hard voice that Izzy was yelling and cursing at another student. The Head Teacher doesn’t say that she had a reason, and makes it sound like Izzy just stood up and started cursing for no reason at all. That’s… that’s not fair. Grown-ups always do that, make it seem like kids just go off for no reason, and Izzy can’t hear what her dad says back to the Head Teacher, but a lot of the warm feeling goes away, then. Her heart feels cold and scared again.

What if he’s mad at her?

What if she can’t be sorry enough to fix it?

Izzy sits in a hard wooden chair that is shaped all wrong for kids and makes her legs hurt after a while, waiting for him to come get her with a racing heart, her book open in her lap. 

There’s some brown-y red smeared on the cover, drying. She made her palms bleed when she was scared and didn’t even notice. She’ll ask her dad to buy the school library a new one. She wants to keep this one for herself.

"I have come," said a deep voice behind them. They turned and saw the Lion himself, so bright and real and strong that everything else began at once to look pale and shadowy compared with him. And in less time than it takes to breathe Jill forgot about the dead King of Narnia and remembered only how she had made Eustace fall over the cliff, and how she had helped to muff nearly all the signs, and about all the snappings and quarrellings. And she wanted to say "I'm sorry" but she could not speak. Then the Lion drew them towards him with his eyes, and bent down and touched their pale faces with his tongue, and said:

"Think of that no more. I will not always be scolding. You have done the work for which I sent you into Narnia."

"Please, Aslan," said Jill, "may we go home now?"

"Yes. I have come to bring you Home," said Aslan.

A flash of gray, worn jeans in her vision brings her slowly into awareness of the world around her, but it’s the voice that breaks her completely from the story’s spell. 

“Talk to me, kiddo.”

Izzy looks up to meet her father’s eyes, surprised - she hadn’t even heard him come up. But they’re quiet movers, the Gallaghers - except for Jamie, who never had to learn to move so quiet she couldn’t hear him, who never had to push down all his sounds so deep inside himself he could go whole days without making any at all. 

Her dad drops into a crouch in front of her, and his knees crack a little, but if it bothers him he doesn’t show it. He looks up at her, from this angle, and he doesn’t look mad.

He almost never looks mad at her.

“I got a call that you were fighting in class.” He looks like he’s trying not to twitch a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And using some pretty creative language.”

“Can’t imagine where I learned to curse,” Izzy says gravely, and there - that was definitely a smile on his face that he has to hide as fast as it shows. She lives for her father’s smile. Still, she closes her book, and folds her hands on top of the stain on the cover so he won’t see it. “I only yelled a little. Henry Fitzgerald was mean to me, and he was going to-... he was going to kiss a girl who didn’t want him to kiss her, even if she didn’t want him to. He said it didn’t matter if she wanted to or not.”

“Ah.” It’s all he says, at first. His face doesn’t show much, now. Her nervous heart starts to beat fast again.

“It’s, that was, um, that was before he got mean. He got mean when I told him that it’s wrong to do that and… I kind of… told everybody in class he was going to.”

Her father’s eyebrows raise, a little. “You did, did you?”

“Yes. Then he said his dad told him my mom’s in prison and that-” She stops herself, closing her hands tightly over the book, before her voice can start to shake again. She takes deep breaths, strong ones, fills her whole lungs up. Her dad waits for her, he always waits for Izzy when she needs him to. “He said, it was just, it was a stupid thing, but it made me really angry.”

Her dad’s face hasn’t changed, but Izzy knows when emotions change in a room, even without anyone’s face moving at all. She can feel that something has shifted inside him, something he’s not showing her. “What did he say?” 

“That I must be awful if my mom doesn’t even want to talk to me.” She says it flat, like it doesn’t bother her at all to hear it. No big deal, it’s normal to have a mother who hates you for stealing your father even though it didn’t happen that way. “Then he said mean stuff about you, and… I was already upset, so… I kind of went off on him. I’m sorry you got called and had to come get me.”

“But you’re not sorry you did it,” He says, and it’s not a question.

She presses her lips tightly together, and shakes her head. “I’m… I’m not. He needed to be yelled at. I’m not sorry, Dad. I mean, I am sorry that you have to do anything, but, I’m not-... sorry for calling him all those names and I will put my money from my birthday in the swear jar if you want, I’ll skip tea for a week and put all my chocolates in there, but I still won’t be sorry for yelling when he was mean about you.”

He huffs a sound like quiet laughter and offers her his hands. “Izzy… I don’t care what a year three kid - or his dad - says about me. But clearly it was important to you. Let me go in there and talk to the Head Teacher about it, and we’ll talk out what happens next on our way home. Okay?”

No anger, or threatening punishments, no mention of discipline ever leaves his slightly smiling lips. Izzy is never taught through making her afraid, not anymore. But he waits, seriously, for her to acknowledge what he’s said. 

“Okay, Dad. We’ll talk about what I need to do. And-... can we call Dr. Marty when we get home? I-... want to talk to Dr. Marty about what happened.”

He looks surprised, but not unhappy about it, and nods. “Yeah, kiddo. Good plan. I’ll be back out in just a bit.” When he turns to walk into the Head Teacher’s office, she thinks that even with everything, he looks very like a grown-up prince, and the rings in his ears look like shredded silver. 

She lifts a hand to touch the shell of her own ear, on her left side. 

Izzy opens her book, to the murmur of their voices as they talk about her. She decides to finish it later, and instead she flips back to read again the bit where the prince takes his sword to the chair that kept him under the spell and tells the evil Queen of Underland that he isn’t hers any longer. 

He will go home, to his family, to be freed of her entirely, even if she still shows up in bad dreams… bad dreams are the only place she can come to, now. He’ll wake up and someone will tell him that she’s gone and she can’t come back, and it will be true. They’ll tell him, again and again, until he believes it. 

Izzy will tell her dad, until he believes it.

Jax will tell her, until she believes it, too.

But first… 

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

"Madam, there will be no more need of that chair. And you, who have told me a hundred times how deeply you pitied me for the sorceries by which I was bound, will doubtless hear with joy that they are now ended for ever. There was, it seems, some small error in your Ladyship's way of treating them. These, my true friends, have delivered me. I am now in my right mind, and there are two things I will say to you…”

“Go fuck yourself,” Izzy whispers with a smile on her face and the thrill of forbidden words up her spine. She isn’t talking to Henry Fitzgerald this time, either. She never really was. “And I’m not sorry you’re not Queen anymore at all.”

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

[fan4196]

How You Get the Girl

1989

(16x15 but it’s not Link at the door)

-

Stand there like a ghost

Shaking from the rain, rain

She'll open up the door

And say, are you insane, -ane?

Standing here right now, all the confidence he build up on his way up is gone. Simply gone. Looking at the brownish red medal door let's him rethink everything. He doesn't know if this was the right think to do anymore. He knows nothing is like it was when he left. Everything changed. Him leaving changed so much - for him, for her, everyone. Nothing could remake that mistake. He knows that leaving was the biggest mistake he could have ever made. And he needs to make it right again. He has no idea how but he at least has to try. After all that’s why he’s back - back to make things right again.

With a last deep breath he finally knocks on the door - hoping she was home but also hoping she wasn't. He doesn't know what she will say, what he will say, if she will listen or shut the door right in his face again. He shivers a little when he hears the door unlock and then squeal as it is pushed to the side.

"Oh my god." Her voice is surprised, her eyes look at him softly but also filled with tears and a little bit of anger. "Alex." Her voice is a whisper as she tightly pulls her arms around his neck. He did expect a lot but not this.

"Hi." He answers in a similar pitch as hers. Wrapping his arms around her as he buries his face in her hair.

He missed her so much. He can't describe how good it feels to hold her after what felt like years. She still smells like the prettiest wildflower field he ever knew, her hair is a little longer and also darker but she's still her.

"Are you insane? You're soaking." She starts worried as she unwraps her arms from his neck and quickly gets a towel while he's still standing in the door. "Give me this. Take your wet clothes off."

She grabs the suitcase from his hand and takes it inside while he quickly strips down his soaking wet jacked and takes his shoes and socks off.

"You wanna stay there forever or do you wanna come inside?" She asks with a smile as she puts his suitcase next to what used to be their bed.

"Jo I-"

Say it's been a long six months

And you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

"It's been-" He starts as he slowly walks towards her.

"I know." She interrupts him as she looks up from her hands.

"Aren't you angry? Or- I don't know hate me?" He asks as he takes the place next to her on the little bench in front of what used to be their bed.

"I thought- I-" She takes his hand and looks at him with once again teary eyes, "I thought you were dead." She whispers, tears streaming down her face. "And whatever reason you had to not return my calls or texts, I'm just happy you're not dead." She squeezes his hand, "Which doesn't mean that I'm not hurt that you were somehow able to throw me away and ignore me like some piece of trash."

He opens his mouth to answer but he can't find the words. He doesn't know how to explain why he did what he did. Nothing can excuse what he did. He knows he needs to tell her but he's doesn't know how.

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl

And then you say

I want you for worse or for better

I would wait for ever and ever

Broke your heart, I'll put it back together

I would wait for ever and ever

"You are not trash, Jo." He breaks the silence that lingered in the room for a few minutes. "I'm sorry you felt like I was abandoning you. That was never my intention. I'm sorry I was gone for six weeks." His last sentences a whisper before he takes a breath and continues, "But I want you, Jo. I married you because I love you, nothing will change that. I promised you for better, for worse. I'm sorry I didn't return your texts or calls I just- I needed time. But I’m back to make things right and I understand if you need time now too. I'll make it right again, I'll do everything to make it right again."

His tone is honest, his eyes are filled with tears too and his voice cracks during his last sentence. She knows that he means what he's saying. She knows she can trust him. But it was so easy for him to lie to her and leave - to ignore her - she doesn't know if her broken heart will ever recover from it if he does it again.

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl, girl, oh

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl, girl

Remind her how it used to be, be

Yeah, with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks

Silence lingers in the loft for a few seconds before he leans to her nightstand and grabs the picture frame that she put there the day after they returned from their honeymoon.

"I'm not the person that I was in this picture because time went on, life went on and it changed me but I'm still Alex - the stupid idiot that loves you so much that he can't imagine a life without you. I wanna grow old with you no matter what. I'm your Alex and nothing will ever change that."

Tell her how you must've lost your mind

When you left her all alone and never told her why, why

"I- ah I have kids Jo."

"What?"

"Izzie had my kids. Twins. A boy and a girl, they are five." He looks at her to see if she wants to say something but she keeps quiet as she turns her view away from him.

"When we reached out to the Doctors for Mer's trial, I also reached out to Izzie. We talked and I heard kids in the background. I asked her if she had kids and she said yes. She was silent for a few seconds after my question but then said that she used the frozen eggs. Since that second my brain didn't work properly anymore. It turned into autopilot and all I could think about was to go there and meet them. They are mine. They are perfect and I don't want to miss another second of their life but I love you - way to much to ever leave you behind. I could never do that and you now that because I told you so way to many times. I'm sorry I didn't tell you and I'm sorry I left you not knowing where I was. I'm sorry, Jo."

"You have kids." She answers still not looking at him.

"Yes." He answers simply.

"And you didn't tell me." She replies, turning her head to look at him for the first time again.

"I was afraid-"

"Of what? That I get angry at something you did years ago when you wanted to help your dying wife? Didn't we talk about that exact topic years ago? What were you afraid of?" She asks, looking at him.

"That I might loose you because another woman had my kids. That this news is just another trigger to push you back into depression. That- I don't know, my brain wasn't working properly. I just needed to figure it out on my own first." He answers holding eye contact because right now that's all he needs in this situation - seeing every single emotion and reaction she wasn't telling him verbally.

"And I get that. You shut down before you come and talk to me but why lying to me?" She asks not breaking eye contact either because she knows in serious conversations like this he needs to look her in the eyes.

"I don't know. I'm sorry." He answers a little more quiet than before.

A nod is all she answers. She knows that he’s sorry, he said it many times already, "What are their names?"

"Alexis and Eli." He answers simply, thinking about them for the first time since he set foot in what he once called home.

"You have a picture?"

"Yeah." He gets his phone out of his pocket and puts a picture up on it of the two five year olds smiling in the camera.

"They look so much like you."

"Mmhhh."

Silence lingers in the loft for a few minutes while they both keep looking at the picture.

"Please don't ever do something like this again, ok? Please talk to me or at least say something like 'Jo listen I need to do something. I can't talk about it yet but I will when I'm ready.' Ok?"

"I'm so sorry, Princess." He whispers as he buries his face deep in her necks.

"I know." Is all she answers, wrapping her arms a little tighter around his neck.

And that's how it works

That's how you got the girl

-

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