Summery: “Oh,” the redhead said, ruffling his own hair sheepishly. “I’m Oda. I think I’m dead in your universe.”
Akutagawa promptly passed out.
Or Beast AU Oda ends up in the main timeline and chaos ensues
The explosion, the deaths, the screams; Akutagawa couldn’t see. This shouldn’t have happened. He should have known. Fuck, he should have known
“Akutagawa-san!” More screams. His men were dying. Their blood had spilled over his shoes and the stink of ripped flesh, burned his nostrils. This shouldn’t have happened.
He coughed.
“Hayato!” He called out; covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. Another cough. “Hayato! Tell me where you are!” He could barely see two steps ahead of him and-
His men. They were dying.
Finally; shaking fingers clasped his wrist. “Akutagawa-san.” A choked breath and terrified eyes. Hayato was older than him, but – It was Ryuunosuke’s job to keep him alive. To keep him standing.
“Get behind me,” he muttered; struggling to speak each word. “Get as many of them as you can behind me.”
Hayato didn’t need to be told twice, and with a click of his earpiece, he was shouting orders left and right; blood-soaked fingers still clenching around his gun.
Akutagawa didn’t care whether these no names lived or died, but he’d promised the Jinko not to kill, and if he wasn’t planning to end his enemies for what they were putting him through right now, couldn't he afford the idiots following him the same courtesy?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 46/?
Fandom: Chris Evans - Fandom, chris evans fanfic
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Chris Evans x OFC Nicole Frasier
Characters: Chris Evans
Additional Tags: Original Characters - Freeform, Mild Language, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Celebrity Crush, Smut, Angst, Omaze, Boston, Escape with Chris Evans, Contest, chris evans - Freeform, chris evans fanfic - Freeform, prudential center
Summary:
Summary: Who would ever guess that winning a contest could change a life forever?
When 34 year old Nicole Frasier won the Omaze contest, “Escape With Chris Evans,” she expected to have a day she’d always remember. What she didn’t expect was the spark between she and Chris. A connection so strong that by night’s end, saying goodbye is just not an option.
The story chronicles the relationship between an average woman and a movie star. How they build a relationship that’s both a deep friendship and romantic. How they navigate the time apart, the insecurities they each face and the past demons they need to overcome. The passion that comes when you’ve met the person you’re supposed to be with, and the struggles that come when fame gets in the way of it. There’s a lot of fluff, a lot of laughter, a lot of smut, and a lot of heart. This story and all the associated separate stories containing the characters are written in second person pov.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 24/25
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Alayne Stone
Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Petyr Baelish, Val (ASoIaF), Rickon Stark, Davos Seaworth, Samwell Tarly, Gilly (ASoIaF), Alayne Stone, Arya Stark, Bran Stark
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
Sansa knew Jon married her—married Alayne—for the Vale, or maybe, because of his past, he saw her as a fellow bastard and meant to raise her up the same as his people did for him, how they chose Lord Eddard’s sole surviving son as King in the North. But when she looked at him, she saw nothing of the sort in his eyes, only a flash of desire, the way a man ought to look at his wife, before he steadied his gaze. If this was truly wrong, she wondered, then why did the gods let it feel so right?
Melodies crooned behind the ongoing layers of walls, each choked syllable peppered with the scratches of interference within whatever made the glass screens shimmer. Shattered windows hung heavy with the dense plume of fog, where murky droplets formed on the glossy fins pinned in the cracked frames. The garbled speek of the television made the room eerie with the vacuum of silence crowding the rest of the world, beyond the windows and spiraling into the hazy depths below. Howling rains and stabbing pellets was the usual – it cloaked the noises of feet slapping hollow wood, or something heavy falling over - really, any noise that could draw the attention of a hidden thing from somewhere it should stay.
The cupboard creaked when the other kid pushed the door out. He was slow to emerge, as if in the short time he went scouting, a monster might’ve come in and stolen her away.
She shuddered and carried the package food to the corner of the cabinets. She gnawed through the plastic cover and gobbled whatever her teeth bit through. From the corner of her hood, she watched the other kid shuffle from the cupboard with a lumpy box. In the same fashion he watched her with the side of his eye, while he working to tear apart the container.
The feeling was mutual. She didn’t like the kid. Something about him, the way he smelled or the way he dressed (not that anyone had choices). Still, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. He was off.
This whole place was off.
Most the rooms didn’t give anything, but she figured early on that was typical. The sounds of creeping residents put them on edge, beside how the walls themselves vibrated or rattled despite the placid weather. Once they had a fill on food, and shoved stuff into their available pockets, the two went on. They abandoned the kitchen by climbing up the counter to... what should be a window, slotted above the sink. It was more of a worn out ulcer from intense storms, and maybe something colliding with building side. A narrow ledge bent beneath the tattered opening did hold their weight, and for the next excursion they were outside.
The city never knew dry, even during hours lapse of rainfall, the wet soaked into everything and held tight. Especially the outer building walls, always slimy with the relentless storms. It was a peril for kids to navigate, but gave them the main highway and near assured safety - if a kid was careful. Strafing along narrow ledges and climbing over vent flues was not without tragedies, but served to cull the feeble from the strong. Survivors. The ones that never stopped, despite how the world might punish them for existing.
Perched on the metal grate of a fire escape, Six studied the cable tangled on the sharp inclined side of the platform. The tether attached (somewhere) to the television, rotating below ever so slightly. Gibberish vomited from the screen, along with eye aching grays and blacks. It was important to avoid televisions, not only because of Viewers, but some more important reasons. No sane kid risked tampering with the box menace. None. The danger was the thing that pretended safety, but lured with symbols and curious singing. But she was smarter. Sometimes - on chance if she couldn't get away - she swore the imprint of an eye blinked through, among the stranger shapes of adults and other things. The television was not a simple box, but a monster in its own way. And she hated it.
The alley below the television looked clear of hazards. While ignoring the emaciated body of a child splayed directly beneath the flashing box. She supposed the child must’ve fallen, or might could have been stamped into smatterings by a boot. The latter was the less likely happening, since creatures were usually swift to pluck up a body. It was rare to find dead kids.
“Oi.”
She picked her head up and turned to the other kid, right on her shoulder. When granted her attention, he dropped onto the TVs flat top briefly, before diving to a mess of papers gathered around the kids corpse.
The kid, she forgets what he called himself. Something like fire, or lighter? It’s not that important. He peered up and beckoned. She didn’t reward him with a reaction, so he darted into a direction without a glimpse back. The path he chose, it did almost clear between the narrow walls. Even so, the kid was soon obscured among the haze and not likely to return.
Everything was… off. She didn’t know how to explain what this felt of, or why all of what she saw seemed ‘out-of-place’. She didn’t recall much before waking up in the room, aside from a need to take shelter and find some food. That was consistent. Everything else, the rain and the buildings… all foreign. Misplaced, or better yet, the scenery wasn't what it should be. For the life of her, she couldn't recall what this place should be like.
Punishing rain, layers of clouds pummeling the skyrises. Somewhere, she was sure there was colors. Like her jacket. The other kid adorned drab gray and blue, and whatever else stained him through. Not her though.
Six scooted to the gap in the rails, where the kid dropped. Bracing herself, she let herself down by her hands. She lost her balance upon hitting the televisions top and scarcely braced for hitting the ground, waterlogged papers aside. At least she didn’t make a sound, but she was numbed all through her footpads as she rushed off to find the other kid. He seemed to know this place.
Hiding was natural. Scavenging, that too, standard. Everything else – the scenery, the rain, the derelict buildings. Something was missing. Something about this whole scene was… wrong. Not right. She was forgetting something. The raw heat of colors burned in her thoughts, and flashed through her worst nightmares. The speek on the card haunted her if she was left too long on idle, wondering about the strange ideas marching through her repertoire of a mental checklist. Something about the place, the pictures - food. And the promise of more. She could only imagine the illusion of warmth.
The fog bundled her tightly with its oily chill, a thousand or so glittering beads coated her hood and sleeves. It wasn’t long before the glaring images of the television paled to nothing and the craggy jingles drowned behind the soupy vapor. She was the same as the other kid. It was best to avoid those. Never mind if adults flocked to them, and both could be heard long before being seen. Unless you were the sort of kid that got between an adult and the screen.
The alley was blocked by an ugly wood fence. The other kid prodded the boards, but hadn’t gotten through. She searched among garbage bags and piles of rubbish, but couldn’t locate any sort of tool they might could lift. A ways back from the cluttered fenc huddled a banged up dumpster. She took the handle at the base, and cooed to the boy.
He picked up the theme fast and came loping over. With their combined might and some grunting, they managed to scoot the dumpster closer to the fence. Not by much, too much ruble and weight bore down on their puny vigor.
It was an easy matter afterwards to boost him onto the dumpster lid, and then clamber up herself, when he reached down to her. Now perched on the lid and following a brief recovery, the kid took a running leap and managed to land directly on the edge of the fence. She was a little impressed. With a misty huff and scuff of her footpad, she followed his example.
However, her heel missed the slot between the slates in the top, and she nearly went crashing backwards. If not for the other kid snaring her arm, he yanked her forward. Once situated proper, she glared at the kid. He didn’t look her way, but went on to drop down to the open sidewalk on the other side.
The two moved carefully through the clouded roads. The persistent lamps glowed through the thicket, flashing and humming with obnoxious intensity. The two strayed near discarded artifacts, such as grocery baskets or abused furniture – practically melting - or a chunk of building shed from above. It was dangerous to be out in this way, the fog was a challenge to navigate and anything could be lurking beyond the veil waiting. Most the sounds was stifled, the earthbound haze sheltered their passing. The world surrounding them was likewise, creepy with its smothered silence and ethereal dreamscape. Though, everywhere she went the cotton threaded scenery was always familiar, but never could she pinpoint when she chanced upon the ruins, let alone who she was with.
Unlike the rain, the fog soaked through the openings of her coat. This made water slid from her sleeves and the hood stick to her head. Her color was the one thing that made her special, since no one wanted to steal armor that was eye-catching and amazing, but also gave her an advantage against the rain.
The fog. Not so much. Humph.
Even water rushing through gutters and cracks in the road held a hushed croon. Despite how stale and numb the air was, a shirt whipped like a flag on the eave of a canopy above. In the alcove beneath the awning, bleached pages decorated the floor and plastered against the opaque windows.
Six cast her gaze around, while the other kid knelt at a glossy puddle and dipped his hands into the water. No shapes drifted at the fringes and no sounds made her alert. Calm for the moment, she examined the exuberant images outlined on the soaked poster cards. She almost thought the speek made... sense, but how or where it might could have, she didn’t know. The marks felt familiar, and if she watched them intently enough, the meaning would transfer over.
With a shake of her head, Six dismissed the idea. Dumb. The marks meant nothing. It was something adults shared – a secret speek full of junk.
She left the posters, and found a waterlogged cardboard box with a puddle gathered on the bent lid. That gave her a few swallows to cleanse the gooeyness of her throat.
The other kid already ventured back into the sidewalk, following close to the walls of the city blocks they passed. She fell in step a ways back, not fully devoted to pursuit. He and she didn’t acknowledge the other much, aside to check that the other was there. Both of them kept on alert, but they stayed outwardly tuned to the strange noises that came from nothing – something shuffling, a voice whimpering, a whistling that could’ve been a clever dash of wind.
Across the city, the stretched horizon groaned, affording them hint that storms would be returning. Soon the weary light dulled, and patches of gray swarmed among the tallest sentinels.
So many roads came apart, revealing caverns deep and dark. More often these gaping channels forced much backtracking and lost time (and energy), but other times, previous travelers left passage for newcomers. She and the other kid wandered a long the edge one way, then the other, until they found a bent series of wood planks lashed across the wide break. The bound wood creaked under their combined weight, but held firm without a shiver.
As she crossed, she extended her arms out. No idea why, it really didn’t help and she didn’t feel her balance waver. This ritual meant something
It always surprised her when Wisp – that is what he was – looked back at her, or she saw his face. She always expected to see someone else looking at her. The other boy, maybe. The one they no longer saw - got lost or ran away. It happened.
A thin mist began to fall. Not quite raining, but something like droplets beaded on her jacket hood. Wisp did pick up the pace and she hastened after the boy. The dull rattle of televisions cut through the faint sizzle, distorted but easily recognized against the crackle of the Viewers voices seared by transmission. Neither of the warnings was safer than the other, but noises offered an early detection, and patches of the thick vapor to avoid. So long as they were cautious and patient, the citizens never caught scent of their presence.
Before they got too drenched, Wisp took interest in some planks of wood layered and wedged atop stacked heaps of garbage. Six adjusted her hood, and then could spy the tatter of cloth flashing beneath an open window. It took work between them both pulling or pushing the other up the slanted planks, already slimy and impossible to get traction on at all. And much falling, for Wisp since he had darn rags tied on his feet. For a while they went no where, but no one was getting off the street since despite the window being on level with the stack, the window was not fully open.
Six discovered it was easy enough to grip the edge and scoot up sideways. Only if she didn’t lose her balance and flop over the side.
It took their combined effort to hoist the window up, then they could slide in. Once they cleared the windowsill and began wandering the halls, doing initial scans—
The window cracked shut!
Big deal. Six still tugged at the stiff sleeves of her coat, and glanced around the corridor. Some of the ceiling lights smoldered, not enough as far as she was concerned. It was quiet of terrible sounds, aside from the wind picking up at the glass barrier and struggling to snatch them back.
The other kid went on ahead. She didn’t know if he cared she followed, or if they went in the same direction and it was convenience they decided to help the other. She didn’t know the boy, and decided not to trust him long ago.
The ceiling and walls kept shape, the usual decay and wear of a dozen scuffed feet cleaved the floor clean of anything but splintered wood. The rain stayed out, fierce drafts carried down the stairways and cut through their drenched clothing. This might be a good area to nest. If there was any food. At every corner or doorway, the two paused and preened the shadows with their ears, they sniffed at the musty aged tinder. Under a book or beneath a pile of saw dust, a strange living thing scurried from the prospect of intruders - the way they did. Overall, nothing to maintain alert, no shuffling to drive them into hiding themselves.
Following up some extended scouting of the lower floors, they found a working lift that took them to an upper floor. But no higher. That was fine, they resumed exploring through the bent hall checking open doorways and keeping vigilant. It seemed….
Too quiet. Unnaturally so. That wasn’t… right.
How could that be a problem? Six wondered, as she and the Wisp slipped under the blotchy patterns of faithless light. If they’re careful and wary, nothing could surprise them. Even so, it was off. The rooms. Quiet. Empty. But not safe. Never safe. The vacancy melded an ominous threat of a past tragedy, which promised a violent replay.
A broken patch caving under their toes condemned their travel beneath floorboards, which still went somewhere. Maybe. Gaps dropped bars of light into the dust and ruble, defining bent barriers of wood and splinters. Climbing a series of slates jammed into the plaster backing of a wall, got them up a room or more, she lost track of how high they climbed. The crude ladder was not stable in its mount, and more than once Wisp nearly tumbled backwards into her.
This relentless exploring did deliver them to a room, leading into a corridor and an area of smaller rooms. They checked on two rooms that had windows, but Wisp didn’t seem impressed. With no input of her own, she'd leave it to the kid to figure where their maybe exit would be. The wild wind salivating at the broken boards and scowling wind did not make this prospect an eager one, but the weather was not likely to falter soon.
After exploring around on her own for a while, and having no success with food finding, Six did cross paths with the other kid, huddled behind a blanket garbed chair and gazing at the wall behind the shelter. The wood was scratched by child speek, all the lines looked very deep but had not faded.
Hmm. Was story? Mean how?
Of course, the ever-watching Eye. Some monsters with pointy teeth. A door. A child missing their head. Little creatures, they looked liked ants. Something that might’ve been a cage, or a box. A chair. The other speek might've been children, or dolls. A lot of it was hard to make out.
She glanced over at Wisp. The kid was rigid, eyes fixed on a speckle of disjointed and incomplete scratches. He held a bit of flint and was carving into a space of the wood, bits of dust crumbling away. The speek was something of a child, she thought, but she didn’t see what it was before he dug into the mark.
Though the rooms hadn’t been damaged to allow the new rain in, mildew and decay was thick. Anywhere inside would have been tolerable compared to the streets, the kid was riled about something. Six pretended not to notice, and kept her interest on searching for food things. She had almost nibbled through the rations that went jammed into her pockets earlier, and none of it was worth celebrating over – the scraps gone muddy from damp and them both climbing around.
No kid liked the kitchen. Sure, get excited and shiver about maybe a meal. A maybe meal. The kitchens with good foods had to have something hording food in the little rooms. That was her big worry.
With Wisp tailing her wistfully, they chanced upon that one most dangerous, but most important room. The dwelling appeared all hollowed and abandoned, stank of the waterlogged wood – all the same, the kitchen didn’t give all answers away with a glimpse. They first made certain no hidden doors or alcoves hid in the gloomy corners, where things not quite dead lay in dead-sleep for the off chance victim.
The kitchen retained gaunt appearance, mimicking the other rooms they both plodded through. Wisp went first, and Six followed. Cupboard doors and cabinets high above (the few remaining) hung open; the floor harbored the shedding of a dozen bags or boxes, all shredded. A whole pack must have plundered the rations.
The other kid pulled a skinned box from the floor of a cupboard and shook it. A couple of insects flung to the floor, but nothing to get excited about. Mites or something.
She tipped her head back and skimmed over the shelter of doors above. Was worth effort? She pointed, and watched as Wisp trailed her arrow aim.
Wisp shook his head. With a stern lock of his shoulders, he snapped around and marched from the chamber.
Six didn’t want to just leave. But casting her gaze across the discarded containers, it was despairing. The time they might spend scaling high, only to find more starved cabinets, that time could be put into finding another place. Or catching something better.
Stuff like time and energy was a luxury children didn’t have. Every decision had weight, every error added up. No do overs.
It was easier to follow the boy and watch his every move. Especially in the halls and endless rooms when all looked the same, but that didn’t bother Wisp. She only felt assured when they managed to find a stairway or a built ladder to climb up for the higher floors, where she could detach for a while and maybe have a chance to find something left out. Sometimes in a room with a television, a plate would be abandoned with food crusted on. Televisions would never stop being danger, for more reasons than just the Viewers flocking from everywhere. But no creatures, no food things. That was the harsh nature of surviving.
This building… didn’t have Viewers lurking, but more important no televisions. It was still possible to stumble upon good scraps left out in a random room, usually stale and in questionable shape. Food was still food, and going without something would bring pain and more danger. She aimed to be the first to get a mouthful. But careful first. The absence of danger was a threat all of its own.
“Hoo.”
Six hurried to the end of the corridor, where the other kid waited. He kept his gaze around the edge, but when she closed in the kid inched beyond the side and shuffled toward a pile of garbage. Once they felt that the open hall was bare of life and the silence genuine, he and she padded by the shut doors at a swifter pace. They paid close attention to the entries that gaped open, or doors left ajar that they could maybe squeeze into.
Most of the doorways didn’t go much of anywhere. A hall, a few rooms, and furniture to hide around or under. The two only resorted to hide places when they got spooked or overwhelmed by the uncanny stillness festering in the crooning shadows. Sometimes, nothing lay behind the door but a deep pit, swirling with mist and groaning.
Other hazards lurked in the corridors, aside from wandering creatures seeking aimless scavengers. The walls bawled, agonizing against the blistering gales pummeling without relent. Someday, they promised. Perhaps… today? Or not. Who really knows when? All sentinels must fall, all dangers must cave.
While rushing through a corridor, the plaster and wood plunged from the ceiling. Ruble and grit pummeled their heels as the two raced neck and neck – vaulting over broken furniture, a wide break in the floor. Though fortunately, only a patch collapsed and the walls encasing their escape held firm, imparting a husky weep of the trauma endured. The floor still shivered and graveled wails vibrated through the core of everything of this precarious world. Safety was unreliable and fragile.
Six still ran, even after tremors faded and the dust simmered into a watery vapor. She couldn’t stop. The walls folded inward, the floor disintegrated. Everything was coming undone, she lost her balance. He leapt away while she fell! They were—
“Oi. Oi!” the raspy voice choked.
Her arm snagged, and she whipped and bucked at the branch cutting at her skin. The longer she fought, the more ferocious she became with kicking and stifled snarling. She was on the verge of fighting, when the light from above flickered the way bulbs glistened during intense storms. She froze, gawking eye-to-eye with a kid.
Wisp glared at her, one fist tangled with her shoulder and the other hand tethered to her wrist. He held on for dear life, face cracked into scowls. He didn’t loosen his grip or his knotted face, not until she relaxed. Then his face and his entire body uncoiled. Only a slight bit.
“Shh,” he hissed.
She shoved him away. No noise. Quiet. The kid was making more whimpering. She didn’t whimper!
The other kid held her with a glare for longer still, shoulders tight. He was always like this. As if she hadn’t been wandering these roads for… however long since she woke up. She didn’t know since how long that was. It was after they lost the other kid.
Six turned her gaze up, tugging on the hood of her jacket to gather in the boundaries of the area they stumbled into.
High above a bulb swung from a dangling cable, off center of the ceiling. Water dripped from somewhere above, but not drenching the floor. From the heights overhead extended the bent and twisted stairway, and that looked solid from where she stood. It had to be. Some sort of adult in a stiff coat dangled in the weirdest pose she’d ever seen a creature hang in; the body tangled entirely, one arm pinned to its backside, while the other long dangling arm rotated independent of the socket and body.
It was all broken, and moths or other insects fluttered around the corpse. The cord snickered with each miniscule retch of the corpses movement. It would be interesting if the tether snapped and the boney sack collided with the floor. It would be best not to wait for another collapse.
Wisp was already on his way up the steps, going at it on his hands and feet like some creature. It looked fun. Easier than hiking up.
The kid was watching as she came galloping up. She wasn’t as graceful as him, but the contrast of light and shadowed pool of her hood made it impossible to pick out the shameless smirk. The kid turned and went on, and she in turn trailed – padding into another enclosed corridor, cluttered with plaster and timber from furniture.
It wasn’t like she went with him out of the necessity of it. Finding pathways that seemed safe enough, if not at all traversable, was an ongoing struggle. She and the kid had the same goals – not die and not get mangled. Where go? What seek?
Foods and shelter. Big goals. Impossible.
While the kid poked around at some large boxes, she curled up by a wall and had a rest. And poke at her thoughts. There was another-other kid, right? They had pack, her, him, and… Him? Most frustrating, she didn’t recall a face. But smell. She remembered smell better. Faces were so forgettable. She’d seen so many, all of them gone. Faces always went away. The other Him had been persistent in her dreams, stuck to her cloths but hard to see all the same.
Broken light bulbs and ovens. That’s what it made her think of. Most kids stank of cage grunge and filth. The other one was different.
With a rasp, she picked her head up and glanced the room. No noises alerted her to danger, the lone bulb on a corner desk shed enough light without giving smaller shapes away. It was a damp hum of clarity, still, her dusty eyes scratched at the harsh intensity.
To her side, the other kid shifted in his sleep. It must’ve been him. The kid winced and mewled, either trapped in a nightmare or struggling through the dream haunts. She gave his shoulder a firm kick and uncoiled.
He sprang awake a lay like a carved out crab, eyes wild.
Six paid his recovery no mind, instead rising up and dusting out her jacket. Need she remind him, no food was found as of yet? She gestured to him and began walking.
The story was the same with most of the dwelling full of the small rooms. It should have been anticipated, since where the Viewers didn’t crowd to, then no food. No televisions, no Viewers. Stupid monsters. They probably fell out of the windows before reaching this high. No safety was worth the clawing tummy. This was dumb.
In one of the corridors, Wisp and her sat to scratch out a strategy on a wall. He was like her, did picture speek but didn’t make much noise. He craved into the soft plaster what she already knew – television and the Viewers. No food. A window. Duh.
His arm was shaking when he polished off the window speek. The one thing they managed to find didn’t count as food, Viewers didn’t eat birds. Something was hanging around at one point, but they hadn’t found any fresh kills, and better yet, heard nothing to make fear in them. That meant whatever it was had either left or died, but it hadn’t eaten up what it killed. So… it wasn’t big? It made her feel better to not think of it lurking and hunting.
The two took another elevator, which only went up a few floors. When the gate didn’t open upon reaching the lifts final resting place, Wisp had to figure out a way out of the cage by jiggling the lever. She had to help, since the lever was too high to reach alone, and it made more sense for him to hold on while she jumped up to grab and pull at his ankles. The lift was jammed, where it wouldnever go back down all the way. They would be stuck.
If she hadn’t managed to get the door unjammed. Wisp helped a little.
Part of the lifts issues might be on account part of the floor and wall, and some of the buildings side was missing. They both raced to the corridor end and inspected the damage, finding much of the wall caved out and draped across a rooftop further below.
Before she really mapped out what looked safe, Wisp was already stumbling down the rocky slope. Shrugging, she went ahead and followed. If something happened, Wisp would be the first to know.
The hard gale thrashed against her hood, and the cold pellets coated everything in white beads. Clouds choked out whatever light might brave the heavy cover, but the vibrating water gleamed against the cleaved flesh of the building.
Six turned her gaze up, examining the remaining ruins of the skyrise. Beneath the boiling mist, the moth of clothing spiraled downward. The terrible roar of a crumbling stone bellowed upward, seeming to come from all directions. Giving herself a shake, she hurried across the blocky slabs and made the roundabout of unsteady debris in order to reach the roof edge slanting beneath.
Before joining Wisp on the stable surface, she paused and checked over the side of the roofs edge. She thought it was more clothing, in a way it was. It might’ve been a hat or a the mask some creature lost.
In the near center of the roof, a hut with an open door creaked against the intense weather. Long ago the hinges ground away, but most of the panel lay pinned by the entrance. The stairway into the entry sighed stale, dank air. She hurried after Wisp when he took the first few steps, sniffling as he went. At their backs the clogged radiance snuffed out, the whining door haunted each tentative step.
The stairway went downward, until the steps broke apart leaving them with no assured route. If not for discarded clothing, a shirt tangled on the jagged wood of the shredded banister. Wisp saw the route, and took the climb first.
When Six let herself down, the threadbare cloth ripped before she could brace herself for the drop. Wisp tried to dive aside, but she landed on top of him anyway.
The two lay in pain, listening for the creaking walls and the assured clamor of something large barreling for the clatter of bones. Nothing came. Nothing sought… for now.
Assured nothing was on the verge of rushing upon the slightest shuffle, she and the other kid collected themselves. They landed on the flattened ruins of the stairway, its creaking complaints still echoed against the walls. Some shrewd radiance swelled from somewhere distant, and they could navigate the serrated fencing bent around them. Only enough walls stood to corral them, to trap, but they had a place for their feet.
She crawled after the kid under a mesh of bent wood and cloth, spare light glittered in among rasps of drifting dust. Only one safe path was open for exploration, but neither would complain. The constrained tunnel bent downward, and she suspected by the loss of actual floor slates, the floors collapsed and twisted into something.
When Wisp stalled at a difficult twist, she tugged on his ankle. Turn back?
The kid tugged his leg away and squeezed through the gap, pretty much on his tummy and almost upside down. He got stuck, and she went ahead and twisted his body to the... left, or was it right? Righty-tighty? Lefty—
With a grunt, the kid popped loose. Six followed, only on account she forgot to release his leg. They went rolling down a slope of plaster wall, until the floor leveled out.
As ever Wisp was on his feet, sharp and listening to the stale air. He lunged for the nearest dark patch beside a crate and huddled down. She followed, patches of moldy carpet dampened their frantic steps.
The corridor went one way, but the way they came from was clogged entirely by the collapsed ceiling. Surprise-surprise. Bulbs trapped by ruble smoldered, but along the floor glittered the bits of glass from the wilted ones. Even with his feet bound up, Wisp was cautious about getting close to the shimmery pieces.
That kid was weird like that. The other weird thing, he had a hard time eating some foods. She wasn’t sure which foods, he was picky at times for no good reason. Difficult kids didn’t last long. He was a prissy boy.
No televisions. Not a good sign, but they weren’t really expecting much going through the rooms. This was dumb. The only consolation was they were going down, and the walls didn’t shatter around them. Sometimes a lift shaft was open, and they could leap down and reach a vent or something. Other times, their path was as easy as finding a crummy ladder built into the inner wall, or slates which let them scale to the next floor below.
Some floors kept their secrets, and would not let them find a way out. Six and the kid had chittering arguments and angry scratch speek on the floors, about where to go or what to do. When was the last time she ate?
One difficult floor at last imparted its secrets – they could jump on a brittle patch of floor next to a wall, which plunged them into an tight space beneath the ruptured boards. Crawling through the must of insect husks and grime, they used their combined strength (waning in all this wandering and nothing found) to shove through a rusted vent flue.
The whole thing shattered into dust and the two dropped, to who knows where. She’s certain Wisp made a cry, but in all the confusion and crumbling she couldn’t be sure. The noise got cut off when they smashed into a soft ground, which was pretty miraculous. What were the odds! She wasn’t prepared for crashing to a hard floor, or whatever else the ground could be made up of – jagged cement, spears of rebar, punishing glass.
Nope! Hit a moldering soft thing.
Wisp shot up and gave the scenery a brief skim. He snorted at and shook splinters from his tattered hood – it didn’t offer him any protection from anything.
Slower but all the same woven to the surroundings, Six pushed herself off the cushion and gathered in the room. Foremost, she singled out the doorway, and where they should be wary. Next, where to hide if something came through that gaping entry – they had a second corridor to rush for. A table sat to the side, but wouldn’t offer much cover if something tore the room apart. A tall dresser might be worthwhile, it was impressive with height and looked climbable.
She winced when Wisp gave a hiss and dove to the floor. When she gathered what gave him such excitement, Six joined without hesitation.
Foods! Boxes and packages scattered around a stack of books! Wisp was savaging a box, nearly ripping free its precious contents without regard. She wasn’t much far off, barely getting her fingers out of the way before burying her teeth into the soft mush stuff. It tasted horrible, but that was edible. And she was inhaling every crumb.
Throughout the process of their feeding frenzy, she and the kid glanced between the two entries. The anticipation of something tearing in burned in their collected brains, given the too fortunate treasure of their discovery.
This was very likely a trap. Thus far, no noise or gruff choking indicated warning. They kept on alert and waited. They wouldn’t get much further without eating. In short, the ferocious gnashing and angry snarls diminished by leagues, and they could nibble at a semi-not-desperate pace. Despite awful flavor, they were happy to have cheek-fulls of whatever.
Wisp didn’t have endurance for scarfing. He pushed aside a box he was gnawing on and shuffled to his feet. The recliner chair held his attention for awhile, and a glint of light hit his eye, enough for Six to see his expression was anything but placid. Without a sound, the kid scurried to the furthest wall and huddled down. For rest.
More for her.
She shook the metal flint off a package and went to work on the plastic, nearly choking in the process of going at it before peeling away all the coating. While the kid was off, she let her eyes rove over the drab scenery. Foods made everything, it wouldn’t last but for awhile her main goal was achieved. And when danger came rooting for children, she’d have the energy to run and jump and dodge and slide. Flee. Flee was the only way to survive.
It was better to run. Bad happened when kids couldn’t do that. Tired, sick, nutty, sad, hurt. It all ended kids. But flee and hide never failed.
Never.
She sat among the wrappers and all the work she did, confused. Why food but not trap? It was more than a pack worth. Unless danger, no pack abandon. And the dumb toys.
Most of it was soft things, of bizarre creatures with no real names. She reached over and tugged a floppy, plump limbed animal and looked it over. It didn’t have eyes. At one time, maybe, but not anymore. It was so ratty and broken, she couldn’t decide if the eyes came off on their own….
Something about the room was… off. Like this place, and how everything was terrible. She couldn’t place why or specifically, what could make her feel that way. The trap?
She stood and dusted the flakes of debris off her jacket and crept to the entry. On her way through the one doorway, she glanced to the other kid. He hadn’t budged, his legs drawn up and his arms knotted tight over his shins. She wouldn’t go far.
The corridor beyond the room was nothing noteworthy, offering the same depressing glow of paint, and the cracked, flaking walls. She got a close focus of the patchy fabric crushed into threads, the small crawly things scattering at her silent steps.
Nothing stood out to her. The dwelling just creeped on her skin for no reason, aside from having a stash of foods all for the take. For who? And to why? The more she thought of it, the bigger her unease grew. It was like waking up all over again and something was… wrong.
She passed a small bathroom, not bothering with a search. A door was shut, but she wasn’t interested in finding a way in. Not yet. The next room across the way from where she left the other kid, was more interesting. She traced along the wall as per routine, checking the furniture for hide places. Behind a fallen chair, more child speek. A story? More gibberish? Children did speek for warning and danger.
The only speek she ever saw was the time that never stopped, and the watching Tower.
She crouched beside the wall and touched the vague carving. Many of the lines had no sort of meaning, maybe it wasn’t speek. It was frustrated like chewing. The chair made another appearance. A large and lumpy creature grabbed children, one body in its large burly hand was only half-a-child. The lines on its face must’ve been juices or whatever came out of children. A sideways door on a line. A bird. Ladder….
Hmm.
The sharp piece of flint had a feel to it, of being held and used for a long time. It was a favorite tool, but forgotten. Discarded…..
She experimented with carving lines into the wall, beside the other kids speek. The lines meant nothing, she just wanted to see how hard it was to make the mark so deep. Some speek began to form.
“Climb.” She tilted her head against the inner wall of her hood. “Fall.”
Those sounds. The hissing and humming, but not like sing. “S’together. Make friends. To safe….” Another patch of scratching and chitters. It was a strange speek, but she managed to imitate the noises. And sometimes, while they huddled together, he leaned beside her shoulder.
“What make name?”
She tightened her eyes shut against the hard glare of the light. That terrible noise blistered her ears, curdling all other echoes and warbles of the room. Her movement ground to a halt as she climbed through the air, clawing at the worn carpet sticking to her sleeves and knees. Strength abandoned her, as did the… other.
Wedged in between the wall and couch, a crinkled bag and arm surfaced from the dark pool. But the hand grasped the corner of the bag, and the body sagged to the floor. Whatever is happening swirled behind the cutting knife digging into her thoughts, vague shapes and the screaming crackle punctured her movement. Her nails ripped through the fibers beneath her. The coffee table bent sideways, and something horrible blotted out the dying light drenching her coat.
With a choked snort she repelled backwards from the wall and lay on her back, vision muddled and ceiling whirling. Thoughts hitched and burbled in her head, the light a somber gleam but blazing with a cruelty that soured everything in the back of her throat. She thought she had to be sick, her gut ached. Everything in her ached.
The space of the wall where she did speek, nothing was there. Not a picture but a messy, deep gouge. It tore out snippets of the other speek.
Working through the numbness, she managed to sit up and hunch forward. The quiet was soothing, the room felt… calm. Empty.
Abandoned.
She picked herself up and walked around the room a bit more, pulling some sensation back into her shaky legs. On the other side of the room lay a partially collapsed cabinet, the small drawer slots rested in splinters. She picked up one of the feathers scattered by a cubby and twirled it between her palms. Poking out of a space of the cabinet sat some clothing, and another of the stupid animal toys. If she thought back, the ones from the other room were missing eyes too. That was… spooky.
Feeling uneasy annoyed, Six left the room and went back to where she left the other kid. For whatever reason, she couldn’t focus on the corridor or the walls, or the shadows and the sounds. Her head buzzed with a phantom tenderness that only not thinking could ease.
WrongWrongWrongWrongWrong. Everything was wrong. She shouldn’t be here… not this place or its rooms, but… she couldn’t put into think for reasons or why. This wasn’t where she was meant to be.
When she came near the entry of the room, she jarred to a stop and glared.
That! YOU! She pulled her arms close to her chest and gave her most savage glare.
Impossibly, the scratchy and distorted shadow that was nothing of a shadow. Silent and mysterious in all its appearances, it stood observing her. Was it even aware? What made it? Nothing of questions or ponderings brought her closer to its purpose, of for reason of being. It followed, a disconnected memory of… someone.
Empty.
She held its void glower, challenging with a mental snarl. Six meant to go ahead forward and confront it proper, but she couldn’t move. She wasn’t scared! Nothing frightened her! She was tough, and smart! Definitely smarter than some dumb shade! She did allow a gravely hiss, only to get her point across.
None of her affront put off the shadow. It couldn’t feel, it was uncaring. The murky silhouette simply was. And as suddenly as it appeared to visit, it was gone – dissolved into black threads, as always and as before, as if it never were. She knew this wasn’t the end, as it was not the first appearance it had made since she saw it... in That place. It wanted something. Demanded her to understand an unspoken caution. Somehow, without expressing any sort of awareness, she knew it was wholly thinking in some way. But not in a way that would make sense. Nothing in this world made sense.
It was unforgiving, relentless, and stupid, but she didn’t care. She had a lovely raincoat, and that was all she really needed.
Still, she felt all of this... was a misplaced world from a distant dream. She belonged elsewhere.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Have you talked to Kururi?” Shizuo adds.
“Why?” Izaya feels it already, the anxiety coming into his body, making him feel almost physically ill. Was it more of an issue than he perceived it to be? If he could be perfectly honest, the anxiety had become more prominent of a symptom as of late. It makes Izaya wonder if it’s always been this bad, and he just didn’t realize. Maybe all these demons in his minds just took turns, and he was just the one getting beat.
Shizuo sighs, fondly and a little impatiently
“You don’t think this is hard for Kururi too?”
Izaya flops back on their bed and stares angrily up at the popcorn ceiling of their, (formerly Shizuo’s apartment) and feels his eyes start to fill with his emotion.
Forcing his eyes away, Garrus surveyed the rest of the bar. No one paid any of them more mind than a stray dog begging for scraps. It was refreshing. Still, he could not fully relax. It wasn’t in his nature to let down his guard anywhere, let alone surrounded by strangers in a public saloon. Dry Creek was as much a haven for their type as it got, but it was full of criminals all the same. And agents of the Shadowbroker. Averted eyes were still capable of seeing, and there was always somebody watching.
Feron.
Garrus spotted him enter through the back. Smooth as a snake through sand, Feron weaved through throngs of people without disturbing a single one. Silent. Invisible to those by whom he did want to be seen. He approached Garrus from the side and then, as if coming by him was a complete accident, clapped a hand on his shoulder. Friendly, if it weren’t so calculated.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 5/6
Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak
Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Adrian Mellon
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Musician Richie Tozier, Mutual Pining, Implied Sexual Content, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Alternate Universe - Music and Lyrics (2007) Fusion, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Fluff and Angst
Summary:
“Have you ever done any writing?”
“I mean, yeah, everyone nowadays has done some writing.”
“Well have you ever heard of ‘the Losers’? The band?”
“Of course. Bev loved them. They were those two weirdos, and Lord, one of them could not dress to save his life, and—” He turned as he spoke, looking Richie in the eye. “Oh my God, you’re one of them.”
“I’d like to say my outfit choices were very much in style.”
“Wow, I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine, cutie. But I would love to talk to you about writing some lyrics?”
tldr; Richie is a washed up musician who needs to write a new song, but he can't write lyrics. Enter Eddie with surprising talent, yet resentment, for writing.
music & lyrics au (heavily inspired by the movie)
