the fatal plunge

i have no explanation for this

Bare feet padded lightly down the empty palace corridors, wandering toward the source of a guttural wail that rang through the night. Words of encouragement from a garbled voice that echoed throughout the confines of their mind urged them forward, coaxing them into the foreboding darkness of the abandoned wing.

           “I knew you’d be back.”

           A gust of air greeted them upon entering the desolate bedroom, and the silken hem of the elegant palace robes that adorned their body dragged through accumulated ash. Sudden, smoldering heat prickled at their back, fanning over the shell of their ear. There was a sense of familiarity that came with the way the voice whispered their name; it was almost comforting, kindling a notion of belonging.

           “You just couldn’t stay away.”

           The subtle pressure of clawed phantom fingers gripped their chin, turning their glassy stare to the extravagant portrait hanging on the wall.

           “You know me, just as I know you.”

           They shambled toward the painting, reaching out to smooth their palm over the grandiose depiction of the late count. The vibrant crimson eyes seemed to glow, gradually becoming brighter until they seemed a separate entity from the canvas altogether. It was as if the rest of the world fell away, the luminescent scarlet optics demanding every fiber of their attention.

           They recognized the creature before them as the one at the center of the artwork mounted in the dining room, and they could do naught but heed its instruction to follow it, trailing along behind the hulking white apparition with a dreamlike gait. Chilled wind whipped at their hair and clothing when they stepped out onto one of the balconies overlooking the garden. The spirit called to them from below, coercing them onto the ledge.

           “Come to me.”

           Arms wrapped around their waist before they could take the final step forward, pulling them away from the fatal plunge that awaited and back against Asra’s chest. The ghost departed with a shriek, leaving them to tremble in the magician’s embrace upon their return to reality.


           He nodded, clutching them tightly to his shaking frame. “I’m sorry.”

Archer (Moriarty)

Criminal mastermind who is said to be the greatest of all of Sherlock Holmes’s enemies and the ‘Napoleon of Crime’. He was just as intelligent and as cunning as the great detective, perhaps even more so. Moriarty was also known to be a brilliant mathematician.

Alongside his loyal assistant Sebastian Moran, he fought Sherlock Holmes at least twice, until his fatal plunge at the Reichenbach Falls, in the story ‘The Final Problem.’

The Dream of a Fish

[Content warning / trigger warning: Suicide, death, gore]

[Author’s note: I’m going to try something different and add some music links to this for additional mood. Critique and opinions are always welcomed.]

There was a person on the lake’s bridge about to kill herself. Looking over the edge, the water was dark and deep underneath, and there were plenty of rocks to land one’s head against. Death would be certain, so she stood there for a while for her nerves to build up and take that fatal plunge. She was halfway ready to do so, and leaned against the railing in preparation to do so. Her beaded bracelet wore against the jagged rust of the railing and snapped off, each beloved bead below plunging quietly into lake with only a whisper.

Although not a moment before was she ready to throw away the weight of the world, the loss of a single bracelet stung coldly at her. The precious bracelet that was associated with valuable moments in her life was gone forever, and she cursed at the cruelty. Not only for the loss of the bracelet, but for the return of her yearning to live. Her hands trembled, and her tears burned at her eyes.

Down below however rose a fish to the surface attracted to the falling beads. It had thought that they were pieces of food. The person above had already begun to leave the bridge, their attempt at suicide foiled, yet the fish didn’t know that. It followed by to see if the person would drop anything else into the water. Even though it was only a fish, seeing that for a moment there was a living soul out there that was interested in her at her worst hour, the person called out to the fish. “Next time, if I’m still alive, I’ll bring you actual food.”

Keep reading

This is Part I of what I hope will be a bunch of Swan Queen rec lists, each one tailored to a mood or genre or whatever I feel like doing that day. WIPs are marked accordingly, as are AUs. I am not very discriminating when it comes to some genres but I’ll try to keep it classy, you feel me? I’ve seen some rec lists in the past but they don’t seem very recent so!! Here we go:


Just accept that. Prepare the tissues, warn everyone in your subway car or classroom you “have a cold” (note: this goes over more convincingly if you are not the professor), get a friend on hand who’s really good at feigning sympathy over your feelings for fictional assholes. These are angsty, these are slow burns, these are going to make you cry and yearn for Emma or Regina or their baby boy. But I’m totally not here for fics without happy (or at least hopeful) endings, so expect any non-WIPs to have that shining glimmer of happy women in love within them.

Oh! And feel free to add your own recs on reblogs! Even just remembering all of these took a ten-woman team, I kid you not~

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Final Nominations List!

Nominees for Summer 2014 Awards

So this is the final list! They have been all alphabetized, but of course we’re still human so if there are a few scrambled ones, we hope no one will truly mind. 

Go check it out below because it’s a truly impressive list, and you can get started checking everything out. Then, when voting comes around in the next couple of days, you’ll have your choices picked out and ready!

Keep reading

Breaking Out (Part 2/2-Final) (Pietro Maximoff/Tony Stark x reader)

Request: Ahhh I’m so happy I didn’t miss the requests being opened!!! :’D Okay so I decided to watch both parts of Kill Bill today because it’s one of my all time favorite movies and got the idea for this request. lol Could you write a Tony/daughter!reader where she was captured by HYDRA and once her memories come back, Tony sees that she’s become a total badass with a katana and he’s just really awestruck and a little scared as they fight their way out? Thank you and love your blog! 💕

Part 1

Pietro had been running for hours, for days, for months; it didn’t matter.  He would run until he found you, no matter how long it took.  He didn’t care what Tony screamed at him every day when his search turned up with nothing, or how tired his body had become, he would continue until he saw your face again and until your fingers were intertwined with his again as they were the last time he was with you.

“Pietro, you’re looking thin.  When was the last time you stopped to eat?  Do you even sleep anymore?”  Wanda asked worriedly, sitting across from him in the conference room as they waited for the rest of the team to arrive.

His frenetic energy coursed through him, anxious to get the meeting done and to get back to his search.  Pietro knew he could cover so much more ground on his own than with the team, and he wanted nothing to do with the Captain and Tony’s plans.  “I’ll worry about that later.  I can’t think about that right now.”  He began to wring his hands and nervously tap his foot on the floor, “can we get this done, already?  Where is everyone?”

“Calm down, they’re right there.”

Pietro straightened and watched as each of his teammates took their seats around the table, his eyes fixed on Tony, waiting for the familiar glare to be returned his way, but it never came.  Tony looked exhausted, more than usual, and now he wondered if your dad was starting to give up, though he would never really believe it could happen.

“Good morning, everyone,” Steve announced, gathering the group’s attention.  “About an hour ago we were called in to do a rescue,” he paused, loading the mission details on everyone’s tablets, “details are in front of you, and we fly in an hour.”

“I can’t be a part of this,” Pietro interrupted, “I have too much ground to cover today.”

Steve sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m sorry, Maximoff, but these are our orders.”

“Well, I’m not interested in orders, Captain.”

“We all know how hard you’re working to find (Y/N), but that can’t distract you from the job we have to do.”  Steve’s gaze shifted from Pietro to Tony with a cautious look, “we all want to find her.  But it’s been three months and we need to remember that we have these commitments.”

“Actually, Cap, I think I agree with him,” Tony said quietly but with an air of authority, “I’m not exactly interested in this either.” He tossed the tablet to the table with a resounding thump, “if my head isn’t in the game, then I should sit out.”

Pietro’s eyes brightened and his head turned to look at Tony, “perhaps…we could work together?  I have a strong lead for today.”

Stark shifted in his seat slightly, appearing uncomfortable, but when he thought about it he realized that it would be better to work together, since neither of you had made any headway alone.  “Sure, Speedy, I’m in.”

“Hold on, I don’t think I remember saying that you two were exempt,” Steve huffed.  “Did anyone hear me say that?”  He looked around the table at each of your teammates, challenging them to speak up against him.  “Anyone?”

Natasha cleared her throat and raised her hand slightly, putting on her most convincing expression, “actually, Steve, I think I might have heard you.”  She knew that if the opportunity for the two men to work together had happened, then it would be in your best interests to allow them to do it.  Being two Avengers rather than one would be a benefit in itself, but having your father and the man who loved you working together was rare to say the least.  Suddenly, other voices began to join hers.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, Nat, I think I heard him too.”

“Definitely heard something.”

“Cap, that’s really generous of you.

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing as each member of his own team gathered with the next to gang up against him.  “Insubordinates,” he mumbled, slamming his belongings together in a huff.  “Fine. Just fine.  I guess I’ll just go and re-write the entire plan.  Being the Captain apparently means nothing around here…” he trailed off as he stormed through the door.  

A small chuckle worked its way around the room as the team stood to prepare for the mission, each of them pausing to give small words of support to both Pietro and Tony.  Once they had all gone, the two men looked at each other and held their gaze for a moment, neither of them speaking up first, until their words spilled out together.

“Mr. Stark-“

“Ok, listen-“

They each paused again, waiting for the other to speak.  “Mr. Stark,” Pietro began and waited, making sure he was clear to talk, “I think I have a firm lead that I haven’t explored yet. But it’s far from here, and I can run, but if you’re joining me…”

“Don’t worry, kid.  I can meet you there with a jet.”

“You’re seriously going to make me run?”

A weak smile crossed Tony’s lips, but his eyes showed no humor, “hey, you’re the one who lost her.  I don’t feel like I owe you anything.”

Pietro’s shoulders slumped in defeat and acceptance of the words that reflected what he was already feeling, and had felt since the moment you were taken; it was all his fault, and it was up to him to make it right. “Yes, I understand, Mr. Stark.  I agree.”

“Damn, kid, I was joking,” he finally broke, “I might be pissed at you, but that’s just cold.”  Tony stood and made his way to the door, pausing to turn back before exiting, “suit up and meet me in the hangar.  Ten minutes.”


It was taking longer than you expected for your heart rate to slow, your breaths finally becoming regular and unrestricted.  You looked down at the weapon you held in your hand, covered in blood from a source that you couldn’t remember.  A quiet, choking cough began to build from behind you; turning slowly, your eyes fixed on a man who wasn’t fortunate enough to die during your first strike.  Flipping your katana over in your hand, you took a deep breath and made your way to him, pangs of regret growing stronger with each step closer that you came.


“It sure seems awfully quiet, don’t you think?”  Tony asked, peering out the jet window as he began the descent to land.  “I don’t know, Speedy, I’m not getting much for life signs down there,” he paused, tapping the screen as if it were malfunctioning, “maybe a couple, but nothing definitive.”

“Maybe my lead was wrong?”

“We can still check it out…oh, wait…hold on!” Tony yelled when he spotted a small missile heading for the jet, not sure if he had time to evade it.  “I think someone must be home!”

The jet rocked back and forth, but he was able to quickly steady it, though apprehensive about his approach now.  Tony glanced at Pietro a few times, his eyes nervous but his expression holding steady; his fingers began to whiten from the tight grip he held on the controls.  “Hold on, kid.  This is gonna be a little bumpy.”  

Pietro hopped into a seat and strapped himself in, only seconds before he felt the jet sliding across the ground, grinding and scraping the earth until finally coming to a stop against a grove of trees.  Once he felt secure he frantically released himself and opened the jet door while Tony put on his suit.  Before Stark could utter even one word, Pietro was in the wind.

“So much for working together,” he mumbled to himself and took flight behind him.


“(Y/N), stop.  You don’t know what you’re doing.  Clear your mind.”

You stood over the HYDRA agent, watching him beg for his life without a care.  He was one of the men who had trapped you here and experimented on you, making you into a killing machine meant to lead them to the destruction of the Avengers. They had definitely succeeded in making you into a weapon, but it was now a force being used against them.

“No, we aren’t going to do that,” you said flatly, “so you may as well save that air for your final breath.”  You moved to stand over him with a foot on each side of his waist, pressing his wrists to the ground as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with fear and his body trembling so harshly that you could feel it in your own.  You raised your blade up over your head and prepared to fatally plunge it into him.  “Close your eyes,” you commanded, “don’t look at me.”

“(Y/N)?  (Y/N), what are you doing?”

You turned your head towards the new voice, knowing immediately who it was.  “Pietro,” you acknowledged with a small nod, returning your gaze to the man on the floor beneath you, “if you could excuse me for a moment.”

The feeling of metal sliding through muscle and tissue is something you would never become accustomed to, and would never enjoy, but it was necessary.  This man didn’t make as much noise as the others, but he was also higher in rank and was expected to face his death silently.  You felt a strange respect for him in his last moments of commitment to HYDRA. With a deep breath, you bent down to wipe your blade, using the man’s own uniform to clean his blood away.  

“Did you bring dad?”

Pietro couldn’t do anything but stare at you in disbelief, watching a person who was nothing like the one he had lost months ago.  The change from the quiet, shy and adorable you into the assassin in front of him was too much to comprehend.  “Um…yes, he’s here…but (Y/N)…?” he trailed off and waved his hand around the room that held at least a dozen dead bodies, “I don’t understand.”

“It was time for me to go, so I had to make my move when the opportunity arose.”  You stood and secured your katana to the sling on your back and took a few steps towards him.  “Whatever they were doing to keep me in their control wasn’t working anymore.  All of my memories were released; the only thing I could think of was getting home, no matter what I had to do.”

“You’re so different,” he whispered, reaching up to touch your hair, “you even look different to me.”

“Well, HYDRA boot camp can do that to a person.”

Your head snapped towards the door at the sound of Tony’s suit landing just outside.  Running past Pietro, you were outside and in front of him as he stepped out of the suit. His mouth was agape and his eyes wide with a hazy glistening at the sight of you, but he paled as if he were seeing a ghost.  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he gasped.

“I should say so.”

“We’ve been together ten seconds and you’re already giving me a hard time?”

You smiled and leapt forward, throwing your arms around him and into a tight hug.  “What took you so long?” you sighed into his shoulder as he held you, “I was starting to think that you gave up.”

“Are you kidding me?” he whispered, “that would never happen, sweetheart.”  He pulled back from the embrace to look at you, giving your arms a small squeeze when he realized how different they felt from the last time they were wrapped around him.  “Been working out?”

“That’s hilarious.”  

A sound of dried leaves crunching beneath the guard’s shoes closing in behind your father caught your attention; you immediately pulled your weapon from your back and pushed Tony out of the way.  “Be right back,” you huffed and began your assault, struggling only slightly with the assailant’s efforts.  You recognized him as one of the men who trained you in your new fighting style, and even though he could anticipate your moves, you could do the same.

Pietro joined Tony, the two men standing by and watching as you held you own with no need for them to assist.  Their mouths hung open and neither had the capacity to say anything, completely shocked at the new you.  They glanced at each other a few times in wordless conversation and a little hint of fear.  When you finally finished the man and again cleaned your blade on his clothing, you rejoined the pair, only slightly fatigued but in remarkably good spirits considering what you had just done.

“So, fellas,” you said with a smirk, “I’d like to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

ficlet; strange bedfellows

“Watson, I have to unclothe you now.” He kept up a running monologue, collecting and cataloguing each vague hum and groan she gifted him in response. The increasingly breathless claims that she was fine had stopped around the same time she’d lost the ability to walk. “Obviously I’ll thank you not to consider this act in line with the more… spirited comments and hypotheses I’ve expelled in the past. At any rate, you’ve never been less attractive. Practically insensate, whiter than the actual snow, your hair crystallized to icicles…”

The soft sound she made through her nose felt not like permission, per se, but it encouraged him to keep going. The sodden jumper went first, carefully negotiated over her head and swiftly spread out on a patch of ground to dry while she lie motionless a few feet away. Her denim trousers proved more difficult. “Had you worn one of your voluminous tunics or short skirts, this task would have been long completed by now,” he remarked without ire. The more substantial clothing could have prevented her from tumbling headlong into fatal hypothermia when she plunged into that half-frozen lake. Now it maintained the dangerous conditions she’d extricated herself from.

Task thus completed, he rolled her on her side into the recovery position and made short work of disrobing himself, despite his fingers having gone intransigent from the cold. He molded his body around hers with no hesitation, necessity having driven away any shame he might have felt invading her personal space to a degree wholly unforeseen in their several years of partnership. Her skin was like soft marble. One hand stayed high on her chest, keeping careful track of her heartbeats.

“And I’ve long held the theory that you would prefer to be ‘big spoon’,” He pulled his coat over them both with a shaking hand. The wool was cold, partially transitioned from damp to wet, and their only option. “However, needs must.”

His mind conjured thoughts of disaster every passing second she remained silent. He would be a terrible eulogist, he decided. Particularly in this case. “Watson? For future reference, I refuse to speak at your funeral.”

Gradually her breaths deepened and increased in volume. An entire lifetime later, a shiver originated at her neck and shoulders and ran through them both, her first since long before they’d reached the cave. He finally allowed his eyes to close.

There was a twenty-three percent chance she would kill him in a few hours. She shivered again, and he brushed his cheek against hers. “That’s it, Watson. Well done.” Happily, the benefits far outweighed the possible consequences.


MC x Iori

Genre: Vampire AU

Summary: You’ve hidden it so well, so well in fact you forgot about your true self. Leaving late at night, finding poor victims who wish for death. You thought you were doing the right thing. What happens when you get caught—and by him no less?

Rating: PG-13 (Violent scenes warning)

A/N: A short little drabble I’ve had in my drafts for some time. Polished it up and here you are. Eh? Enjoy!

You casually flipped through your journal pages, trying to find some spark for inspiration from past songs as you gnawed on the top of your pen.

“Orange breath?”

Scratching your head you flipped through the pages again, irritated that nothing popped out to you. Maybe it was time to start all over. Again.


“Ahh!” You squeak, turning around to find Iori glaring at you in full force.

“I’ve been calling you for a while now,” He said, flicking your forehead.


“Dinner’s on the table already, let’s go.” He said, turing and leaving the room and you behind.

You sighed, chucking your pen on your desk and closing your journal. Not a single word down and you were already stumped as to what to write. What was even worse was that you were starving, but not for human food.

Years you’ve lived this life, and have yet to find someone with decent enough information, and trustworthy enough, to help you.

You were tired of the restless nights. Leaving in the middle of the night to only survive for a few more hours and having to hide yourself from everyone around you. You couldn’t come clean to anyone, it would mean your death. 

Sighing you sat down at the table and engrossed yourself in the small chit chat. Eating slowly, it only hurt your stomach more as the smells of everyone around you grew stronger. Shit was it hard…

And getting through dinner wasn’t the hardest part, it was escaping after that that left you nearly on lockdown.

“Where are you going again?” Iori asked, arms folded as he blocked the doorway.

“A walk, why?” You asked, trying to cover the obvious reason as to why you were leaving.

“This has been going on since—” He paused, thinking of a number to throw out before it dawned on him how often it truly was, “Since I’ve met you.”

“And it helps me think this way.” You said, ducking under him and scurrying outside to fresh sweet sweet smelling air.

He was enough to drive you wild. 

Not because he was a member of Revence or because he was the heir to Enjo group. It wasn’t his sadistic teasing or his complete blindness without his glasses or how he called you orange breath. It wasn’t about any of that. It was his smell. The amount of times you caught yourself before taking the fatal plunge in devouring his sweet sweet blood was one too many, and after your stash of food went dry due to your source getting caught—you were left to fend for yourself for food. And to fend for yourself meant to drink someones blood. That someone being alive.

It was rough at first. You didn’t know how to suppress the mans screams in pain and pleasure as he twitched and squirmed underneath you, but your thirst was to great and before you knew it you sucked him dry, surprising yourself. 

You really had it in you to kill someone, just like the rest of them.

And before you knew it you couldn’t stop.

You were watching to path you were slowly falling down. Finding victims, drinking their blood, it was going to get you killed. And strangely enough, you didn’t mind the thought. Living the life you lived, 100 years, 200 years, you lost count. It wasn’t fun. Nothing was new. 

He was your only relief. Iori Enjo—the sadist king himself.

The times he comforted you when you were in tears about what to do. All the times you were so close to drinking his blood he somehow told you just what you needed to hear, held you just the right way, kiss you so sweetly when you needed the touch and never pushed you to tell him what was wrong. You weren’t sure what would hurt more: outliving him, killing him yourself or telling him the truth?

“N-No please! Is it money you want!? I-I know a guy I swear!” The man yelled underneath you, crying and moving about like a mad man trying to get free.

“That won’t do.” You said, almost monotone as you sunk your teeth into his pale, fleshy neck. It tasted so sweet, so exciting, to drink straight from a human before you knew it he was limp in your arms. 

“Tsk.” You could never stop yourself in time.


Fear ran through your body as you didn’t dare turn around. You knew that stern voice anywhere. 

“Why?” You asked, not having the strength left to face him.

“Yumi are you—”

“Am I what?” You asked, griping the mans shirt in front of you, shaking his body some, “A murderer? A damn vampire?” You asked, turning around so he could see your face. Your red eyes, blood falling from your mouth and running down your chin, fangs exposed and protruding, “What do you see?” 

The shock in his face was priceless. Here he was, the prince in everyones eyes, deceived and lied to by you, a small but powerful murderer. How people would kill to get their hands on you. To experiment on you and to rip you apart for science.

“Let’s go home.” He said, holding out his hand to you.

“Didn’t—” You were so shocked, so mad even, didn’t he just see you kill a man? “I am a vampire Iori!” You yelled, getting off the man and point a finger at him, “Are you stupid?” 

“I must be.” He answered, laughing a little, “Your stupid must have rubbed off on me.” He said, shaking his hand in the air, “Let’s go home.”

Anger boiled inside of you, but…wasn’t this what you wanted?

You wanted someone to accept you for all your flaws. Surly he knew what you did every night now. Going out, killing people to survive, all while keeping on the act of Yumi you perfected oh so well. 

Why did it make you so mad?

Before you knew it you already grabbed his hand, pulling him towards yourself and to the ground where you hovered over him. He didn’t struggle, just stared. And before you knew it you were already drinking his blood. The sweet sweet blood you desired for so long. 

It was good.

“A-arg,” He panted under you, gripping your shoulders but not pushing you away, not fighting you. Why was he like this, after everything he went through, he was prepared to die like this?

Were you prepared to kill him?

You already knew the answer to that.

No but, seriously, does /anyone/ know how The Fatal Plunge fic three was going to progress/end?
Emma pushes down, hard, and then she’s there; cupping a heart that’s so clean and so pure, just coated with the slightest dusting of gray speckles, that her breath catches in her throat. The light seeps into her; molds a cast around her own heart, covers it whole and brightens it and makes her feel young again, like a girl who just wanted to ride, wanted a mother who loved her, wanted so many things without knowing they were always out of reach.
—  a million filaments by maleficently
The Fatal Plunge: a time to be small

I don’t suppose any of you fine folks happened to copy/download all 10 chapters of the previous iteration of the third part of the series?

I’ve been blasting through it, and while I’m totally down with a rewrite (though I’m.. totally confused by this first chapter), I’d love to keep reading what I had started last night.


Team Arrow Project: Day 5 — Favorite Felicity Smoak hero moments

Starling City has much to thank Felicity for. Aside from watching over it every night as the eyes and ears (and brains) of the “Arrow” operation, Felicity also delivers big when the city is under siege. She helped dismantle one of the earthquake machines, she helped bring down Mirakuru-powered Slade, she helped pinpoint the locations for the Alpha-Omega bioweapon AND saved Oliver from a surely fatal plunge. She willingly puts herself in danger to save people, such as when she rushed to fully packed Starling Square to help dismantle a bomb. And she doesn’t shy away from making difficult decisions if there’s a chance she could save a life, such as when she gave Barry Allen the go-ahead to inject rat poison into Oliver. So yeah, Felicity is and has always been a hero.

thecwarrow, marcguggenheim, warnerbrostv

From TV Lines Once Upon a Time’s Most Missed Characters


Representing the greatest untapped potential in a character, the con man for so long was separated from first love Emma - first by the Dark Curse, then by circumstance and his seeming fatal plunge through a portal. Even “reunited” in Neverland, where he was at first held prisoner by Pan, their time spent together was sparse. Similarly, Baelfire and the long-distraught Rumplestiltskin never enjoyed much father/son time, until, well….


It was revealed in Season 3 that “mad” Rumple in fact had his son’s soul inside of him. Knowing that Storybrooke could best benefit from Rumple’s survival, Neal “split apart” from his dad, sacrificing his life to save others, dying in his dad and Emma’s arms. Sure, he left Henry with the memory of a hero father. But wouldn’t the lad much rather have a living Dad?


Below are links to the winning fanfictions for Best New Fic & Best Angst as voted by your fellow SQ shippers. Winners should feel free to snag their banner for personal use :)

Best Angst [Complete]

Best Angst [Incomplete] 

Best New Fic: