#although it looks more reddish but with my dark hair I will take the victories where I can!!!

[shylittlefrogg]

I got pink hair!!

[jemmahazelnut]

Autumn bath

Summary: It's November and Laxus wants to take a dip at sunset. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Fraxus Week 2021, Day 3. Prompt: Sunrise/Sunset.

Autumn bath

They had just completed a mission. It had been simple enough compared to the missions they usually took, they had only had to free a rare species of dolphins that had been captured by traders in black. It had therefore taken them very little time and now Freed was sitting on the beach watching the animals as they moved away from the shore, finally free to swim. Evergreen, Bickslow and Laxus had already returned to the inn for dinner. On the other hand, they had done well, it was really getting cold.

“Are you going to stay here all night?” came a voice behind him. Freed didn't even turn to recognize who he was. Laxus joined him without sitting down, the rune mage smiled.

“No, I'll be back soon” he replied, standing still to listen to the waves of the sea, and the winter air, while the sun was lowering on the horizon. He liked to have a few moments of calm, especially after spending the whole day with his teammates. He heard a thud and turning around saw that Laxus had dropped his coat on the sand.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a frown.

“Don't tell me you can't get there alone,” Laxus said with a smirk that only meant trouble. Freed arched an eyebrow wondering what idea was going through his mind and vowing to say no to whatever he asked. It was really getting late and he had stayed there just to get some peace of mind. Laxus, however, took off his shirt and Freed realized that he wanted to swim in the sea.

“It's November” Freed pointed out “You're completely out of your mind, can't you feel the wind? And the water will be frozen”.

“Oh, come on, is Freed the Dark afraid of some fresh water?” Laxus teased him as he approached the sea.

“You'll get a fever and we have to go back to the inn,” Freed insisted. He wouldn't give in. That was a completely crazy idea, no matter how much Laxus insisted, Freed wouldn't accept or follow him.

All those thoughts were thrown away when Laxus dived into the sea, re-emerging a few seconds later and showing himself in all his beauty. Freed really tried to resist, but how could he do it? He simply couldn't, not with Laxus practically naked with droplets of water running through his muscles. The last rays of the sun were reflected on his abs and on his face making him look even more handsome than he already was. His wet boxers barely hid his body, and his arrogant smirk definitely won over the runic wizard.

“Come on, draw that heat rune and go in,” Laxus urged. Freed didn't really have the strength to say ‘no’ and drew the rune, then undressed himself and went into the sea, gathering his hair in a bun so as not to wet it.

“If I get a fever, it will be your fault,” he muttered and Laxus laughed heartily, swimming farther out. Freed smiled slightly, he couldn't really be angry, not when he saw Laxus so happy and when he heard his loud laugh. With a few strokes he caught up with him but he had come to a point where Freed couldn't touch the sand. He aimed his gaze at the sun which was lowering more and more, so he didn’t notice the dangerous grin on his friend's face, and when Laxus grabbed him by the head pushing him underwater, Freed was completely taken aback. He squirmed and managed to free himself by surfacing and spitting out salt water.

“You're a bastard” he said “I tied my hair just to not wet them, what the fuck” Freed snapped, but Laxus continued to grin satisfied.

“What a pity” he said sarcastically. Freed narrowed his gaze.

“You won't have war, if that's what you're aiming for,” he chilled.

“Let it bet?” said the blond, widening his grin and Freed knew that that meant trouble. With a single stroke Laxus was close to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing him back under. Freed, disadvantaged by his height, was unable to rebel and felt the blond man fiddling with the elastic of his hair, removing it and untying his hairstyle, and then stuffing something between his locks. Freed emerged running a hand through his hair and noting with horror that Laxus had taken a sticky seaweed.

“You’re dead” Freed hissed and threw himself on his friend's shoulders, trying to throw him under, but it was useless. Laxus was much more muscular than him, in fact with a quick gesture the blond threw him back. At that point Freed decided to use his magic and with a rune he teleported some algae and sand directly above his friend. When he saw the result, he smiled smugly.

“You play dirty,” Laxus snapped as he tried to pull the stuff off of him.

“We’ve never established any rules on the use of magic,” Freed replied and then erased the rune of heat from Laxus and the blond began to tremble and cursed. Freed laughed. “Is the great Laxus Dreyar afraid of a little fresh water?” he mocked him as his friend had done before.

The blond shot him a grim look and began to swim towards him. Freed immediately swam to shore and then ran, but the blonde caught up with him and grabbed him by the shoulder and in the heat to escape his grasp, Freed staggered and fell to the ground, with Laxus headed over him. Freed swore as he saw his hair getting dirty with sand, and heard the blond's loud laugh in his ear.

“I won even without magic,” he said arrogantly. Freed didn’t reply as he felt his face begin to warm from the proximity of their bodies.

“Good, now get up” he dryly trying to get up, but Laxus only made him turn him, and Freed found himself in an even worse position than the previous one, with his friend still lying on top of him who was raised on his elbows. Laxus was staring at him with a victorious grin and Freed could see his chest rise and fall with each breath as he felt the grip of Laxus' hand on his shoulder. A hand that after a while climbed up to reach his neck. His friend's expression softened and Freed remained motionless for a moment, not knowing how to react and feeling his heart pounding.

Laxus tilted his head to the side, running his hand over his fringe, pushing it away from his face.

“Your hair is really a mess,” he commented hoarsely and Freed tried not to shiver at that closeness and touch. He just stayed silent, peering into Laxus's gaze and noticing that he too was blushing. Or maybe it was the sun's rays. He had no idea, but he was sure that his friend was getting closer and closer.

And in fact, a moment later he kissed him. Freed closed his eyes and let himself be drawn into the kiss. He reached behind the blond's nape and pushed him to intensify it. He could feel Laxus' hands rising through his hair and the taste of salt between their lips. It was beautiful. When they parted, they stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, both red-faced and out of breath.

“Well...” Laxus started awkwardly but stopped probably not knowing what to say. Freed smiled running a hand through his damp hair and pushed him back on him. They kissed a second time, more intense than the first, and when they parted, they both sat back down on the beach, both with smiles on their faces.

Freed look at Laxus. In that moment and with those reddish lights he looked even more handsome than usual. Only after a while did he realize that his friend was shivering with cold.

“We better go inside,” he said at that point. Laxus turned to him and nodded and then giggled in amusement. Freed frowned.

“Nothing, it's just that your hair is in a mess,” he said. Freed raised a slightly frown and amused eyebrow at the same time.

“You know how to be romantic after the first kiss,” he commented ironically and Laxus blushed slightly. “Really,” Freed continued “It's the perfect atmosphere, first kiss, sunset, beach, and in any case, you manage to ruin it by making me notice my hair dirty with sand and seaweed” he continued to tease him, while Laxus stared at him in an embarrassed silence.

“You know I'm not good at these things,” he replied in a mutter. Freed at that point smiled and stood up, extending a hand making him rise from the ground.

“Yes, I know,” he said softly as Laxus stood up beside him. Freed felt his cheeks blush, although he already imagined his friend's response. He just hoped that Laxus didn't notice it, and that he blamed the sun's rays. “Would you like to go out on a date tomorrow?” he asked him.

The answer was obvious.

***

Freed heard a door slam and woke to hear Laxus swear from the inn hallway. Freed yawned and turned to see what time it was, almost groaned to see it was 5.30 in the morning. Why was Laxus already awake? He knew Laxus woke up early but that was too early even for him. He decided to ignore it and turned in bed, slipping even further under the sheets. He just wanted to sleep, he had already had to stay awake until three to finish reading a book. He heard footsteps walking down the hall again and then sneezing. Freed opened one eye fearing that Laxus had caught a fever.

“I told him it was a bad idea to take a bath now,” he thought. He almost decided to ignore him, but eventually pity got the better of him and he reluctantly got up, put on his slippers and took some healing herbs. He left the room. After taking a look around and seeing that no one was there, he walked towards Laxus's room. He knocked softly and heard a grunt.

“What are you doing awake already?”. Obviously with his developed senses Laxus had recognized him. Freed walked into his room and closed the door behind him.

“You’ve a fever, right?” he asked wearily, barely holding back a yawn. He got no response and this time Freed yawned without bothering to hide it. “I told you,” he muttered as he approached the bed.

“I'm fine,” Laxus snapped, but one glance was enough for Freed to see that this wasn't the case. He was cold, and placing his hand on his forehead he also felt that it was warm. He sighed wearily and took a glass of water, dissolving some tablets inside and passing it to him. “I don't drink that shit,” Laxus said immediately. Freed wasn't really going to fight.

“Do as you like, as long as you don't complain if your fever doesn't pass,” he muttered. Laxus then sat up on the bed and threw down all the contents, making a face. Freed yawned again and the blonde patted him on the shoulder.

“You don't need to stand up, you know,” he told him.

“I'm awake by now, I won't be able to go back to sleep,” Freed replied with a slight smile. Laxus snorted.

“I think our date is postponed,” he muttered in a bad mood and Freed looked at him softly.

“No problem,” he replied with a slight blush. He was pleased to know that the blonde really wanted to go out with him. Not that he didn't already know, but it was nice to hear that. Laxus snorted evidently in disagreement and glanced at the terrace window. Then he stood up and grabbed Freed by the wrist forcing him to follow. The boy didn't object and watched Laxus open the window and go out.

“Laxus, don't you think you've already caught cold enough?” he asked feeling the fresh morning air and wrapping his arms around his body. Why did he have to fall in love with an idiot who didn't learn his lesson?

“It can't get any worse now,” Laxus said and then told him to follow him. Freed at first wondered where, but then he saw Laxus turn into lightning and climb onto the roof of the inn. “But what is he thinking of?” Freed wondered, without asking questions decided to follow him. Anyway, he surely wouldn't have fallen asleep by now. He went up to the roof and sat down next to Laxus.

“Why did you want to go up here?” he asked. Laxus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Freed saw him blush slightly, but then saw his lips curl into a slight smile.

“You said I can't be romantic, right?” the Dragon Slayer asked. Freed didn't understand and stared at him silently, still half stunned. Laxus nodded to the sky and the magician finally looked away from his friend to observe the first light of dawn. He found himself smiling spontaneously as the pink lights illuminated the city. It was truly a wonderful sight, especially for him who usually got up late and hardly ever saw dawn. There was a surreal calm, only the first birds could be heard chirping and the waves of the sea behind them.

“It's wonderful,” he admitted and turned to his companion, who in turn turned to him. They looked at each other for a moment and under his gaze Freed felt his face warm up. Then he took courage and pushed himself slightly forward. Laxus did the same and immediately after the two boys joined their lips in a sweet and short kiss. When they broke apart Freed could feel his heart leap and a tiny smile formed on his face. Several times he had thought about what it was like to kiss Laxus and that… well, that was perfect.

He turned back to look at the sky, and rested his head on Laxus's shoulder. He felt the blonde wrap his arm around his shoulders and the smile on Freed's face widened. Fever or not, that moment was just perfect.

[hecohansen31]

KINKTOBER (14: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism)

Construction Worker! Jim Mason+Fem! Reader

Based onto @langdvn‘s list of prompts!

SUMMARY: You and Jim had been playing a dangerous cat and mouse game, and you decide to do the move that will bring you to your own victory.

WARNINGS: Exhibitionism/Voyreurism, Female Masturbation, Use of Massage Oil (please don’t repeat this at home, unless it is explicitly told that it can be used also on the inside).

You had noticed Jim since the first moment you had spotted the construction workers working outside of your apartment complex: he was nice and much younger than his fellow colleagues, maybe a year or two older than you, but nothing too much.

He was in the crew that was helping with the work on the façade of your apartment complex, because due to old age and some recent problem it had proved to be dangerous to let it go with no works.

Hence the swam of construction workers, all around the complex.

But you had eyes only for Jim, and he felt the same for you, since he would constantly tease, although you had never spoken: he would flex his muscles, raising some pretty heavy material, meanwhile he was either shirtless or the shirt he wore was soaked and transparent due to sweat.

Something that truly brought you to be left there with your mouth open.

And you had immediately shot back your reply, walking in front of him in a too tight skirt, which became even shorter as you leaned down to reach a fallen earring.

What a clumsy thing you were.

Or when you would walk past him with your heels and a malicious smile on your face, smirking at him.

It was a damned cat and mouse game, which neither of you wanted to lose.

It was obvious you liked each other, but neither of you wanted to be the one who did the first move and you were brought to resort to extreme measures.

You had noticed that the workers had created a scaffolding right next to your bathroom window and usually you hid yourself with curtains and avoided the bath when they worked in the morning, but that morning you couldn’t help but want a long, hot shower.

And you knew that also Jim would have enjoyed it.

You started with manual things, such as cleaning your face and brushing your teeth, normal things you could do with workers outside of your window, and you waited till Jim was alone, carrying and taking care of some tubes.

You slowly lifted your pajama top, revealing the little white vest you had under it, your nipples standing against the whiteness, and you softly tweaked them to make them blossom in pebbles.

You repeated the action gently for a few minutes, till you could see the outline of them against the fabric, and you knew that Jim could also see it.

Then you quickly pushed your pajama pants down, kicking them unceremoniously, making it seem like you hadn’t noticed about the window.

You jumped a bit on your feet, knowing perfectly that it got to show even better your butt, barely contained by the sinful panties you had chosen: a dark shade of reddish pink with a cotton front and a lacey back.

They rubbed deliciously against your core, during the night and you could already see a darker spot on the lower part of the panties.

You then moved out of the vest: finally revealing your chest but you didn’t give it too much thought, immediately palming your breast as one would do if he was alone, softly playing with them, drawing patterns on them, till you reached your sensitive nipple and there you scratched it lightly with you nail, just a minimum pressure but it got you to hiss in pleasure.

You were definitely soaked by the time your hands rushed to your clothed core.

You teased yourself over the panties, bringing the soft lacey designs over your holes, stimulating them, and then bringing your hand directly to the source of your wetness: you simply teased yourself and Jimmy and when you had had enough, with a moan you detached your hand from your most sacred parts and softly enveloped the finger that had teased and collected wetness into your mouth.

Quite the show you put, closing your mouth and pushing up the angle of your mouth as if you were thoroughly enjoying it, and from the side-eye glance also Jim was.

But the show wasn’t going to end there.

You were just going to get started.

And you needed a shower, didn’t you?

You turned around, giving Jim a view of your barely clothed ass, and then slowly pulled your panties down, giving Jim a perfect view of your backside, but you didn’t take a single minute to waste looking at his reaction and swiftly jumped in the shower.

Your shower walls were made of some rough glass which hid your figure but still outlined it, so you knew that Jim would know perfectly what you would be doing in the shower.

The way you sprouted shampoo onto your hand, meanwhile you crouched down, and caressed your hair gently.

The way you passed the body soap onto each zone of your body, not forgetting the most erotic one, the hot water and your hands bringing loud moans to escape your mouth.

And finally… the way you pushed the showerhead between your legs, teasing your pearl with it, and making you almost fall onto your suddenly shaky legs, overstimulation and hurt quickly becoming pleasure meanwhile you pushed an hand between your breasts, to grab onto one, pushing and pulling onto the nipple.

You did this for a few minutes, playing with angles, temperatures and different sprays of water onto your most sensitive body part and each time you found yourself shaking with pleasure.

But you denied yourself an orgasm, starving yourself of it, and exiting the shower, barely covering your body with a fluffy towel and seeing Jim still standing there, an hand onto the bulge forming in his pants, and you simply smirked, your lips a bit swollen for the warm shower, and hide yourself in the towel you used to dry your hair a bit.

And then you let the towel fall to the ground, gently leaning down to retrieve some oil for the skin.

And effectively showing your reddish and puff fold and your stretched holes, gaping for pleasure.

The oil, you had read, could be used also for internal use and although you had never really tried it for that, you couldn’t see a better chance than this.

You pushed a generous amount onto your hand and gently pushed it onto your body, starting from your arms, raising them and making your breast bounce slightly, meanwhile you moved from one side to the other, and then moved onto your legs, propping a legs onto the sink to stretch it better and reach any point, with particular attention to your thighs.

And with a slight and teasing attempt you gently brushed against your sacred area, immediately moving up, your stomach, your breasts, with particular attention to your reddish and hard nipples, and then gently held your neck in your hands, falling back onto your shoulder.

And finally, you met again your soft puff, pushing your hand down to meet the other down there.

The oil helped, although you were already wet, but it made some pretty squelching sounds that brought you to feel like even Jim could hear them, helping you with the thrust of your fingers, making you take more, more easily, meanwhile your thumb brushed gently your clit, spreading slicky from it, and collecting.

You were right on the edge, soon, the edging working in your favor towards a mind-blowing orgasm.

And there, on the edge, you turned towards the window and there you came onto your hand looking Jim in the eyes, completely enraptured in you.

You came with your mouth open, silently screaming in your eyes.

You rode the orgasm till your legs were shake and your clit was too sensitive to tolerate any others brushes, and there you exited yourself, took a deep breath, still looking at a surprised and amazed Jim and as soon as you had regained some kind of composure, you smirked.

And turned, just grabbing your towel, not using it to cover yourself but just to bring it as a trail which emphasized your figure and shifted the attention from your legs.

You went to your room to finish getting ready, dabbing the excessive oil with the towel simply putting on clothes before you went again to the bathroom, to collect the rest of the clothes you had discarded, hoping to catch Jim so that you could tell him to quit playing this game.

You couldn’t help but be disappointed because he wasn’t there.

But a little note hanged against the window and you quickly collected it, and there written in an atrocious calligraphy, there was a message for you:

“Nice show, beautiful, but next time what about I show you mine? What about, tomorrow, after I finish working?”.

You put the note back into its place simply adding “it is a date”.

Maybe you had more in common than you had thought.

---

Since I know that this is low key out of my range-zone, let me knw how it went, what you thought of it and if I did well or not!

I am always open for feedback and new ideas!

Much love, lovelies!

@emmyrosee @blakewaterxx @lovelylangdonx @1-800-bitchcraft @rocketgirl2410 @ladynuwanda @rosegoldrichie @lathraios @frenchbread4ever @bish-ima-clown @eternalnostalgia @ itssuperofthenaturalvariety @ mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @ raindeadbarbie @whitetigerlover17 @harmcn @lilwolfgirl86 @ whiteliliesandayellowrose @photography-ygs @bvbfob @courtcourt2607 @ born-of-the-sea @pearlsofperyl @ali-1864 @trilogyss @ daddy-hargrove-83 @otps-4-life @christine-daae-songbird

[umbralich]

History pt. 6 - Confinement

Part 5 <---

Lareine had been thunderstruck by how easily the other knight and the cart driver had just let Varg take her with him, despite her pleas of helping her away from him. Even in the middle of her outburst of feelings she had realized what it must've looked like to them. There had been her, wet-headed, wearing old, shabby pajamas, men's winter coat and slippers. And then there had been Varg looking like some damn king.

"Where are you taking me?" Lareine snapped at Varg, while he was leading her back home through the silent Ishgard and having a firm grip of her better arm.

"It should be obvious", Varg stated without looking at her and sounding somewhat tired.

"Leggo of me!"

"I would, but then you would flee."

Like showing her a big fat middle finger, Lareine's body decided to suddenly make her cough uncontrollably. She tasted metal and saw few drops of blood falling on the paving below her. Varg lifted her easily like a sack of flour and started to carry her. Lareine cursed and tried to punch and scratch him with her better arm, but Varg managed to grab it with a couple of his fingers, and for the rest of the way held her arm tightly against her.

"Oh, thank the Twelve you found her", Arsene exclaimed while jogging towards them when they were only about a couple of blocks away from the estate. He didn't have any outdoor garments on him except for boots.

"I can not take credit for that", Varg said dully. "She just happened to pass my checkpoint."

The au ra was walking fast, but his pace was slow compared to Arsene's so far. The butler was catching his breath while walking next to them.

"I'm at loss for words...", he panted. "She was quiet as a mouse. Besides I didn't believe she would do anything like -"

"Not your fault, Arsene", Varg said, yet again without looking at the one he was talking to. "I think we have given her way too much special rights considering the state she is in."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lareine snarled.

"What exactly is it that you even want, little miss?" Varg asked without answering the question, slightly annoyed. "If memory serves, it was you who asked me to help you. I am helping, and suddenly you behave like it would have been me who left you to die in that alley."

For a long while Lareine didn't say anything. She just bit her lip and tried to fight back tears. When they got back in and Arsene had closed the door behind them, she found her voice again.

"I know who you are and what you do", she pronounced victoriously, like she'd have uncovered some big and dirty secret. "You're an inquisitor. You have torture tools laying around like they'd be some godsdamned cutlery. I bet you have a whole arsenal of them in your cellar."

At this point Varg cast a questioning look towards Arsene. It was the butler's turn to sigh deeply.

"She found one from your drawer. I returned it into the cellar", he said, sounding suddenly tired as well.

"A-ha!" Lareine cried out, glancing alternately from Varg to Arsene. "You're not denying it are you?"

"It is one of my jobs", Varg admitted, sounding somewhat reluctant. "And since you seem to be so worried of my... customers, perhaps I should take you along the next time I interrogate them. You would see with your own eyes what kind of delicate, exquisite and misunderstood individuals they are, when they spit on you, mock their victims and brag about the amount of people they have raped or murdered. A bath, please." He was forcing his tone as polite as possible, while carrying Lareine towards the bathroom.

Arsene hastened his steps in front of them.

"What, you gonna grope me again?" Lareine giggled. Tears were running loose the more she tried to hold them back.

"You are in good enough shape to do it yourself", Varg stated. "Arsene, stay with her and make sure she does not do anything strange."

The au ra took her into the bathroom and put her down next to a bathtub, where hot, foaming water was halfway ready. Arsene was checking the room and its closets, and picking up everything possible she could harm herself or someone else with. When he was done, his hands were full of toothbrushes, razor blades, scissors and the like. Varg took them from him.

"Make it quick. You should not be standing", he commanded Lareine and left the room. Arsene closed the door after Varg had gone.

"What the hells? You gonna watch then?" Lareine exclaimed while painstakingly undressing herself.

Without saying anything and just looking at Lareine accusingly, Arsene reached towards the nearest wall and pulled a partition between them.

Soon after Lareine had bathed, mostly dried herself and gotten dressed in some ages ago deceased grandma's old nightgown, Varg appeared into the doorway. He had taken off his armor and switched into his casual clothes: black jodhpurs and vest, and white blouse. While Lareine was still drying her hair, Varg was waiting and snapping the doorframe with his long claws. After the au ra's arrival Arsene had disappeared somewhere. Lareine prolonged her operation for as long as it was plausible.

When she returned into her room - escorted - Arsene was there. There were also bars on the windows. For a moment she just stared at them with her mouth open. She hadn't heard any noise, so they couldn't have been just installed. When she had escaped, she hadn't paid any attention to the estate's appearance. Perhaps they had been outside and averted out of sight while they weren't needed or something. At least a chain and a huge lock in the middle of them suggested so.

"Is this some sick joke?" Lareine asked, looking sequentially from Varg to Arsene.

"I have to admit I have wanted to ask the same thing", Varg said in a harsh tone. "Today you have undone in mere hours a great deal of the progress you have made during the last few weeks. Happy now?"

"You can't keep me here against my will!" Lareine notified, distancing herself a bit from the two others.

"You can be certain keeping you around is the most displeasing thing I can currently think of", Varg explained, crossing his arms. "However, you have not convinced me you are capable of taking care of yourself. And I simply can not let you roam around Ishgard or any place for that matter, and tell folks in your sorry state how you used to be my patient."

Lareine saw a sudden flashback of herself a while ago sitting in the cart and she felt her whole face warming up. She was certain she looked like a ripe tomato.

"I assure you you will get out, little miss, when you stop hurting yourself and start behaving like an adult", Varg announced, sounding like it was his last word. "It is completely up to you for how long it will take."

He walked out and Arsene followed behind him, closing the door after them. There was a soft click, before their steps receded and a deep silence fell into the room. Lareine stood there for a while, just staring at the door. Then she glanced towards the windows, carefully limped next to them and studied the bars. She had absolutely no hope to get out. Strangely enough, she wasn't scared. She was purely furious.

There was a tray of food, cooked undoubtedly by Arsene, and a glass of juice on the table. The sunflower was no longer the same one it had been on the day Lareine had awoken for the first time in the estate. It was one of the last ones picked from the garden before the weather had gotten too cold for them. Lareine was tired, her body was aching all over, and she felt like she was starving.

Some small voice of reason in her head told her to eat and go to sleep, but she didn't want to listen. Instead, she took the flower pot and threw it across the room, making it clatter loudly. She also took the glass and threw it at the nearest wall. The sound of breaking glass was like music to her ears. Then went the plate, though it didn't make as nice sound as the glass did. The reddish, running sauce smeared the wall and it looked almost like blood in the dark. The tray was metallic, and although it didn't break, it made such a loud clank while hitting the wall it made Lareine wince.

After that the days that followed had eventually become hazy in Lareine's mind. The ruckus upstairs had caused Varg and Arsene come rushing back into Lareine's room. She thought to herself later it must've been quite a sight: the floor full of shards of glass, sauce on the wall, one potato over here and another one over there, all movables except for the table and cupboard scattered all over the place, and Lareine standing in the middle of it all with messy hair and dressed in her shabby nightgown.

She remembered there had been some sort of scuffle. The men had tried to seize her, and she had attacked. And since she didn't have time to grab any shards of glass, and she didn't have her own weapons anymore, she had used what she had: her teeth and nails. Lareine had landed some punches and made some scratch marks, and she had been very proud of them. Especially considering both Varg and Arsene were twice as big as her and gramps was also very skillful in close combat.

At some point Lareine had been alone with Arsene for a while: he trying to hold her and she trying to escape. When Varg had returned, he had carried straps. Arsene had managed to drag struggling Lareine onto the bed, and together they had tied her down. The memory was quite peculiar, since it was the first time Lareine remembered seeing some sort of authentic emotion on Varg's face. The men had been halfway done with the straps. Lareine had been screaming and kicking like she'd been a pig taken to slaughter. The elezen had proceeded to tie her remaining free leg and the au ra her arm.

Usually Lareine had seen Varg's mere face intimidating because of his high cheekbones, angular features, his narrow, dried lips and dark markings and circles around his eyes. Appearance like that combined with his usual stern demeanor didn't actually give the warmest and friendliest possible impression. Now however, Lareine had suddenly noticed Varg looking as terrified as she had been angry. And she had been very angry. Then, against all her possible expectations what he would do next, he had dropped the strap from his hands and marched out of the room, looking unwell.

She had heard few running steps and then sudden, violent vomiting in the corridor. Arsene had quickly turned to look at the door, tied the last strap left loose and then run after him.

"By the gods, are you alright?" There had been no answer. "Should I call someone?"

"Absolutely not!"

They had walked farther away from Lareine's room, so she hadn't heard what they had said or what had happened after that. Lareine had laid on her bed unable to move for a good while, until Arsene had arrived to clean up the mess mostly Lareine had caused. For the next couple of days, it had been only Arsene taking care of her. He of course hadn't been able to give her the stronger painkiller, so she had to get by with milder elixirs. It had sucked. Lareine had started to appreciate the better stuff now that it was no longer taken for granted she could get it.

Varg hadn't visited her much. Perhaps even less than he had used to until that point. He only appeared once in a while to either give her her medicine or checking her wounds. Every time he had avoided looking at Lareine in the eye or talking with her. He had just asked some essential questions, but apart from them they hadn't spoken with each other.

After a week had passed, her straps had been untied. To be honest, Lareine didn't have the smallest clue why she had behaved like that in the first place. A couple of days had been quite nice, like old times. She and Arsene had enjoyed some tea and pastries and Lareine had helped him in some minor chores. Then her memory suddenly had a mostly blank clip again, and next time she awoke, she was back in her bed, bound.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered, while laying alone at one night, and looking at the waning moon shining through her windows. "Who is that scary person inside me? The one that hurts others... that's definitely not me. It can't be..."

"Shut up", she whispered right after, in a different tone. "Get the hells out of my head."

---> Part 7

[eternallyyoungjustice]

Wherever the Winds Take You: Chapter 8

A/N: As promised, here we are. This one’s probably going to be the shortest chapter this time around at just under 3k words (hard to believe that would have been considered a long chapter in the old instalment). Also, I’d love to get some feedback from those reading, good or bad. I’m always looking for new ways to improve and I want your guys’ opinions/ideas ;)

Deléson, France

July 8

16:02

As Lina waited just outside of the old building on the empty field lot, she found herself floating anxiously outside it's threshold and pulling anxiously at a strand of hair.

The cool early afternoon breeze that blew around her was lovely for floating, but it was also very cold and gave the French girl goosebumps despite the denim jacket she wore. The girl yanked at the hem of her sundress, which she was now regretting wearing with the wind.

Casual street attire, or as Wally like to call them 'civvies', felt alienish on her flesh. Being in the presence of the Justice League and her comrades without her uniform? That just seemed odd to her. She felt that it blended the line between 'Lina Dubois' and 'Zephyr'. So much so that, just to add a little bit of normalcy, she had worn the gold sash that usually was worn around the waist of her uniform. It helped ground her, and she was thankful for it.

As the zeta-tube beside her whirred to life and announced Red Tornado's designation, Lina suddenly snapped to attention. Her hands dropped to her sides, her shoulders straightened, and her feet made contact with the ground. When the shape of a large man began to appear, Lina to an excited step toward the figure.

"So?" Lina asked once Red Tornado had fully formed. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet. "What's happening?"

"I am to escort you to the decided location, where you will be given the 'run down'." The robot explained.

Lina quirked an eyebrow, tipping her head to the side like an animal. "And what location is this?"

Red Tornado paused, then replied. "Happy Harbor."

Lina's mind automatically began to race. Happy Harbor? Why did that name sound so familiar? She must have read it in the League's files somewhere…but what made it special.

"Oh, the sea currents are so nice there…" A cheerful voice rang out.

"So much nicer that the stuffy Paris air." Another, stricter voice sounded.

Lina paid the voices no mind as she happily bobbed over to the computer, wasting no time as it read of both her and her mentor's names and numbers.

Mount Justice, Happy Harbor

July 8

8:30

Mount Justice.

The answer to Lina's question had been ‘Mount Justice’.

The original HQ for the League, before an informant accidentally disclosed their location and it was attacked by the Joker and his evil Joker Venomed Monkeys. Mount Justice appeared to be as advertised, a mountain. But the reality of it lay in the bottom foundation where a hollowed out cave was secured tightly. It was right on the water, so mixed with the smell of wet rock and metal was the salty scent of the sea.

Even inside, Lina could feel the cool yet friendly sea currents. They were marvelous. Almost wonderous enough to distract from the fact that she; along with Kaldur, Robin, Wally, and Superboy, were all standing in a row and being spoken to by the co-leader of the Justice League himself.

"This cave was the original secret sanctuary for the Justice League's operations. We are calling it into service again." Batman explained. "Since you five are determined to stay and fight the good fight; you'll do it on League terms."

"Red Tornado volunteered to live here and be your supervisor. Black Canary is in charge of training."

Although she raised an eyebrow and sent a quick glance at her two teachers, Lina felt at ease. She knew both's teaching methods and personal principles. Red would be level-headed, a good den mother, but he also leaves people to do and learn on their own, lets them lead their own lives. He wouldn't try to control the team, he trusted them. And Dinah, although tough, was a great martial arts teacher. She could be the motherly, but strict hand the team needed for adult guidance.

"I will deploy you on missions." Batman explained.

"Real missions?" Robin asked.

"Yes, but covert." The Bat explained.

"The League will handle the obvious stuff." Flash piped in, and then tapped on his lightning-themed insignia. "There's a reason we have these targets on our chests."

"But Cadmus proves the bad guys are getting smarter." Aquaman explained. "Batman needs a team that can operate on the sly."

"So we're the Justice League's spies now?" Lina thought to herself. "Doesn't sound too bad…"

"The six of you will be that team." Batman finished.

"Cool!" Robin exclaimed, then recoil. "Wait…six?"

Batman turned, and all five teens looked past to see Martian Manhunter stepping forward, accompanied by a young Martian girl. She couldn't have been older than 16 judging by her appearance, green skin the same time as the man beside her, shoulder-length red hair, a face full of freckles, and a tentative but friendly smile. Her outfit was much like the Manhunter's as well, red X on the chest included, only hers appeared to look more like a white t-shirt and blue skirt.

"This is Miss Martian, Martian Manhunter's niece." Batman explained.

"Hello." The Martian girl greeted shyly.

"Oh mon dieu! Finally!" Lina exclaimed, throwing her hands up in victory. "We finally get another young, female hero!"

She heard Dinah let out a snort of laughter, and Miss Martian's smile seemed to widen at the welcome. But the moment was cut off by Wally leaning over to Robin and fake-whispering.

"Liking this gig more every minute." He muttered, then raced over to the new recruit. "Welcome aboard! I'm Kid Flash. That's Zephyr, Robin, Aqualad, Superboy; it's cool if you forget their names."

"I'm honoured to be included." Miss Martian replied with a shy nod.

"Awww." Lina thought. "She's super cute!" The French girl smiled back and flew closer, taking the alien's hands in her own. "Please, ignore Kid Mouth. We're honoured to have you here, seriously."

The green girl blushed, and something seemed to spark in her reddish-hue eyes. "Thank you."

"Hey Superboy!" Robin called out, and Lina turned her head to see that the clone had been the only one not to step up to greet the new girl. Turning away, Lina gently let go of Miss Martian's hands and faced everyone. As Superboy stepped forward, a small blush seemed to grow on the green skin of the Martian. Then, her white t-shirt faded to a dark black, the same tone as the red ‘S' shirt the clone wore.

"I-I like your t-shirt." The girl stuttered.

Feeling his gaze on her, Lina looked up to see Kaldur peering down at her. The moment their eyes met, they knew what they both wanted to say.

"The team has found its couple"

After a moment where Robin elbowed Superboy in the ribs and Wally slung his arm around the boy of steel's shoulder, Kaldur broke his gaze with Lina to look at everyone.

"Today is the day." He spoke.

And everyone knew that he was right.

As everyone broke off and began to chat; Robin, Wally, Lina, and Kaldur grouped together, the youngest two with a scheming look in their knitted brows.

“We’re missing someone.” Robin whispered. “We should try to talk to Seedy-Roy-again.”

“Once we explain this great gig, he’ll have to want to join, right?” Wally asked. “I mean, it’s been nearly four days. Surely he’s calmed down a little.”

Lina and Kaldur looked back to one another, silently communicating. Both of them had reached out to their friend, with varying degrees of success. But the probability that Roy would leave his anger and betrayal behind him and move on…

“We may not have the best chances.” Lina shrugged. “But I’m more than willing to try, we have to.”

Kaldur nodded. “Agreed. Last we spoke, he was working on getting the best of an illegal weapons smuggling ring, run by a man named ‘The Brick’.”

“The Brick, real name Daniel Brickwell. One of Green Arrow’s rogues.” Wally nodded, recalling the man’s file. Robin pulled up his holo-watch.

“According to bat/league files, there’s been talk on the streets about a new shipment of weapons coming in a little over a week...in Star City.” Robin read in a whisper.

“Then Roy will definitely be there.” Lina spoke as she propped her hands on her hips.

“And so shall we.” Kaldur added, nodding at all of his comrades.

Star City

July 17

23:16

The shipment came just as it had been predicted, located on an old fishermen dock that hadn’t been legitimately in-use for upwards of five years. But according to League files, the place was popular amongst gangs for covert overseas shipments. Just like the one that was going down tonight.

There was only a small team handling the illegal weapons, which gave everyone the feeling this wasn’t going to be a fair fight.  

As two men carried out the first crate, an arrow shot down at their feet and began releasing a thick gas. The men dropped the box, causing one of the guns inside to topple onto the gravel ground, sliding straight to the feet of a man that was easily seven feet tall, and thick with muscle. Dark red skin the colour of baked clay, and light hair pulled into tight dreadlocks; The Brick kicked the gun up into his hands.

Aiming the pistol, The Brick quickly spotted his target. Up on top of a crane, a redheaded male not yet a man, but too old to be a boy. He was dressed in a familiar red and yellow tunic, but the absence of a feathered hat made re his outfit appear incomplete.

"You again!" Brick bellowed. "I'm starting to get insulted Green Arrow's not messing up my operations personally!"

Brick shot at Roy, who easily dodged by flipping onto a nearby piece of metal and as shots continued to fly at him he ran across a bridge, loading up his bow. When the arrow was notched, he whipped around and fired; the arrow meeting its target and blowing up the gun and the air around it.

Brick faltered, looking down at the shredded pieces of cloth hanging from his body that used to be suit.

"Do you know what I pay for for a suit in my size." The giant man bellowed, then turned to the four men beside him. "Scorch the Earth boys."

But just as the men took out their pistols, two of the gangbangers were knocked out by a yellow blur. As the other two directed their aim at the direction the blur had escaped, their guns were knocked out of their hands with flying metal projectiles. The two men went to step back, but they were stopped by a dark-skinned boy with glowing arm tattoos slashing them in the chests with whips made of water.

Brick, angered that he had become outnumbered, dug his hands into the Earth, pulled up a chunk of it, and launched it at the redhead from before.

But just as the boulder of concrete was about to hit the archer, a young girl dressed in yellow and gold flew out and waved her hands, whisking the boulder safely to the edge of the dock.

"Speedy." The girl greeted, throwing a look over her shoulder.

"Zephyr." The archer replied.

As Brick threw another boulder of concrete, Kaldur leapt up and sliced through them with his water swords as if it were warm butter. Just as the young heroes were in the clear, Roy shot an arrow at Brick which erupted into the same thick smoke as before.

"The cave is perfect, it has everything the team will need." Kaldur explained.

"For covert missions." Robin added, popping behind them seemingly from nowhere. "Y'know, spy stuff."

"Plus I have it on good authority that our only supervisor isn't the, as you say, 'helicopter parent' type." Lina explained. "No overbearing Leaguer watching over our shoulders."

"And wait 'till you see Superboy and Miss. Martian…" Wally pipped up, running up the side of the wall they were on, "but I saw her first!"

With a loud and angry roar emitting from their adversary, the five young adults turned to see Brick wrenching another piece of concrete free.

Moving on instinct, Lina flew forward and created a bubble around her and her friends. The boulder crashed into it and promptly crumbled.

Once the bubble was released, Roy ran out and  sent a barrage of arrows to the giant-sized man, but they only succeeded in causing him to lose his footing.

"Tell Arrow not to send boys to do a man's job." Brick growled.

"Uh, rude." Lina thought, but shook it off.

Roy glared as he loaded another arrow, aiming straight at Brick. Grinning, the man opened his arms to welcome the attack.

"Go ahead."

With a sharp 'thwap' the arrow met the redish man's chest and a thick, lumpy substance emitted from the point, quickly beginning to engulf the man until he could no longer move.

Regrouping around Roy; Robin, Kaldur, and Lina found themselves behind the archer while Wally zoomed in front to observe the damage.

"High-density polyurethane foam, nice!" Wally spoke as he gave the archer a thumbs-up.

Roy gave the boy a curt nod and then turned, walking towards a gap in the shipment containers surrounding them.

"So Speedy, you in?" Robin asked.

There was a long pause as Roy stopped, sending a look to Kaldur and Lina. The look he gave them was friendly, but distant.

"Pass." Now he was addressing everyone. "I'm done letting Arrow and the League tell me what to do. I don't need a babysitter, or a clubhouse to 'hang out' with the other kids. You're just playing their game, this is something they're doing to keep you busy and 'in your place'." As he began to walk away, the shadows seemed to swallow him up. "If you guys want to run around and play Jr. Justice League, be my guest...but I don't want any part in it."

And then he was gone.

[kainna15]

Lend Me Your Sanity

Twilight Fanfiction: Jasper x OC

Chapter 1

Scarlett Quinn sat down at the dark wooden oak desk and placed her folded hands delicately on the surface. Her heart was hammering against her chest and she felt her hands shake against her will. Next to her, across the small walkway that separated the two sides of the courtroom, sat a woman with the same reddish brown hair and same auburn eyes as the younger girl. While the younger had straight hair, the older had curled locks, and while the girl had pouty lips that were bitten red from nerves, the woman had straight thin lips that were pressed tight together in a small scowl.

“Ms. Scarlett Quinn, as I understand it you are here on a request to separate from your mother, here in New Jersey, to go live with your father in Washington?” The Judge’s voice broke Scarlett out of her daze and with a nervous nod, she agreed with what was being said.

“You have been living here with your mother for 7 years, why the sudden change in heart?” Scarlett spared a quick glance at her mother and saw with bitter relief that she was no longer staring at her. What was she supposed to say? She finally escaped her mother long enough to be able to file a case? That her father had been trying to get custody of her but only now had enough money for a proper lawyer? That she wanted to leave because she felt close to suicide living with her mother?

“I miss my father, even if I do see him every summer. And since I am considering going to college in the west coast anyways I figured moving there a year earlier would benefit me.” Scarlett managed to utter the two sentences that she had been practicing for the past two hours. It was logical and reasonable and she really hoped that the Judge bought it.

“And what about your anxiety and depression?” The Judge’s smooth deep voice almost made the question seem innocent. Scarlett’s whole body froze for a moment and she hoped that the Judge, with his small rectangle glasses sitting on his wide face, could not see that her body was now shaking; panic was setting in.

“While I do have some problems emotionally,” Scarlett started with a small voice as she looked at her lawyer with pleading eyes. He was rifling through his piles of paper while she tried to find a good way to continue her sentence.

“You see your honor, she has no idea what will happen if she leaves my side permanently. She might be endangering her health.” Her mother’s higher pitched voice cut over her own. Her fake concern coated her words and made Scarlett swallow nervously. She could already feel a panic attack starting, she never had gotten this close to leaving her mother and the thought of losing her only chance to escape made her nauseous. Taking her away from her mother would do nothing but make her health better. No more belittling insults, body shaming, forced diets, or depression. She needed to get away from her.

“Wait. Here it is. A copy of Scarlett Quinn’s medical records. As you can see, almost every year she has to be admitted to the hospital because of a panic attack or depression. However, if you look at the dates; it is never during the summer when she is with her father. She has never went to the hospital when she was with him.” Mr. Jenkins, Scarlett’s lawyer who look much younger than his name hinted at, pulled out a stack of papers and handed them over to the balluff to give to the Judge. Judge Henderson read the papers carefully while the seconds ticked by slowly.

“It seems you are right, Mr. Jenkins.” The lawyer grinned victoriously and sat up straighter with attention.

“But that doesn’t mean anything, of course a teenager would have less stress in the summer.” Ms. Morrison, Scarlett's mother, snarled with anger. The Judge gave her an unimpressed look before moving his attention back to the records.

“If we cannot measure her health with the timing of hospitalization then what can we measure it on, Ms. Morrison?” Judge Henderson questioned and, when he didn’t receive a reply, neatly arranged the medical records and handed them back to give to Mr. Jenkins.

“As I see it, there is not a single reason why Ms. Quinn should not be able to live with her father.” Scarlett’s small tremors now stopped and a skin breaking smile covered her face.

“Thank-“ The Judge held up his hand to stop Scarlett from speaking.

“However; if you have a panic attack that causes you to be hospitalized, you will be sent back into the custody of your mother.” At this, Scarlett spared another glance at her mother. A small shiver of fear traveled throughout her entire body at the crazed, malicious grin placed calmly on her mother’s face.

“That sounds reasonable.” Mr. Jenkins spoke for Scarlett and within moments the deal was made.

“Alright Ms. Quinn. You are now legally out of your mother’s custody and in Mr. Quinn’s custody. You may leave to Washington anytime you would like.” After those words, the gravel hit the table and Scarlett found herself moments later stepping out of the court room with more confidence than she thought she would ever have. Her hands were still shaking and her heart was beating faster than she thought possible but for once it wasn’t because she was scared or anxious or nervous....it was because she was happy.

“Do you have everything you need, Scarlett? You said you had everything packed this morning.” Mr. Jenkins asked as they walked out towards the small parking lot. Scarlett spotted her old red Mercury Cougar sitting a few spaces down, packed with all the items she thought necessary to bring with her. Most of the boxes were filled with books and clothes but a few had more sentimental items from the few friends she had over the years. They were all gone now, driven away by her less than sane mother, but the small trinkets still held their value with her.

“Yea, I have everything. It's all packed in my car.” Scarlett answered as they finally approached her vehicle. She patted the rooftop affectionately and gave Mr. Jenkins a smile.

“If the Judge knew you were going to be driving to Washington alone, I don’t think he would have been as lenient.” Mr. Jenkins eyed the old car with distrust. Scarlett had known Mr. Jenkins for the past couple of months now, ever since her father managed to collect enough money to hire him, and even though she distrusted any lawyer, he was alright in her book; especially since he had managed to win the case for them. He cared about his clients and although he was a bit of a egotistical asshole, she assumed he had to be in order to survive in his career.

“Letty! Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your mother?” Scarlett’s entire body tensed as soon as the voice, and the annoying nickname, registered in her ears. Her mother stood a few feet from the car, her black pencil skirt and red blouse outlined her thin body perfectly and Scarlett was again reminded how much her mother looked more like a model than a mom. She stood with her arms open, as if expecting Scarlett to jump into them. The tremors came back and she pressed herself against the door of her car, as if she could hide, while she tried to stutter out a reply.

“Scarlett is not in your custody anymore Ms. Morrison. She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.” Mr. Jenkins answered for Scarlett in a firm authoritative voice that left no room for debate.

When Scarlett had first met her lawyer, she wasn’t impressed. Pretty blue eyes, light brown hair, young and carefree with an arrogant attitude had made Scarlett distrustful of the lawyer from day one. But when he sat her down and listened to her talk about the woman she called mom, he didn’t give her pity like she expected or questioned her about the events like she was to be distrusted; but instead promised to get her home to her dad. He didn’t make a face when she told him about being locked inside a closet because her mother wanted her to stop being afraid of the dark; or the malnutrition she suffered because being a size 8 was too fat for her mother; or her punishments of cleaning floors with bleach without gloves (those burns heal after all), or any of the hundreds of insultive nicknames she received from her mother on a daily basis. Instead he simply made her a promise and got to work. He saw how shy and nervous she was and instead of trying to change her, took over as her voice when she found she had lost hers. No pressure, no insults, no changing; just help. Its was reassuring and at this moment she realized exactly why her father hired this lawyer.

“Why wouldn’t she want to say goodbye to her mother?” She asked in a innocent voice. Dumb doe eyes played her face well and her manipulation rose the anger inside Scarlett. Her mother did always go for the innocent dumb look, it always worked for her.

“Because she wants to get away from you.” Mr. Jenkins spoke so nonchalantly it was hard to understand it was an insult at first. Scarlett watched her mother’s face morph from surprise to anger, a conceited smirk danced across her lips.

“See you soon, Letty.” She grinned and walked off. Scarlett stared at the pavement of the parking lot with a mixture of emotions; breathing slowly she gritted through her teeth;

“It’s Scarlett.”

Jasper Whitlock, or Hale as he went by now, stood looking out the floor length window for, well, God knows how long now. Time was hard for Jasper to keep track of as a vampire. Maybe because he was always so focused on other things that time just didn’t matter anymore; focused on thirst, focused on the emotions he felt around him, focused on controlling his own emotions; focused on not reacting as if he was in a war-zone (PTSD was what they called it now) especially when Emmett barreled into rooms without a care in the world. Just so focused because when he wasn’t he remembered he was waiting...and he’d remember that the waiting time was ending in just a week. Remembered that he would meet his mate in just a week. And once he remembered that, it consumed his every thought.

“Jasper? Are you ok?” Alice’s light voice broke him out of his thoughts, his body tensing as he fought the urge to react and throw her through the window he stood in front of. It was always surprising whenever Alice did manage to sneak up on him, only because of how much noise she made on purpose to avoid it. But the few times she did, he had to fight every instinct to attack because when she did manage to surprise him, it was when he wasn’t exactly himself at the moment.

“Alice.” Jasper eventually breathed out as his muscles relaxed and he came back to himself. “How long have I been here this time?” He asked out of curiosity. If he missed something important they would have broken him out of his thoughts sooner. Alice’s lips twitched, which let him know it was nothing serious.

“Just a couple of hours. Nervous?” She asked with a friendly smile. Alice had a vision of Jasper’s mate just over 7 years ago. It came as a surprise to her at the time, while neither her nor Jasper had found a mate, she had never had a vision of either of theirs before. It was surprising, considering she saw his mate when she was already 10 and not when she was born. She could only assume at that time that they would have met her naturally if something hadn’t happened. They were planning of going back to Forks within the next few years anyways and would have naturally met her...if not for Scarlett’s mother. Alice couldn’t explain it to Jasper when she first saw it, it was like her mother’s mind just... broke. Her mother was perfectly normal and happy and then one day, she wasn’t.

She didn’t tell Jasper of the emotional trauma and abuse Scarlett would have to face in the upcoming years, only that she had to move suddenly but she would be back a couple of years after they moved to Forks. Alice couldn’t tell Scarlett’s life to Jasper, it wasn’t fair. But Jasper already knew that his mate had went through something; Alice’s sad and slightly guilty emotions gave him that hint long ago.

“Nervous isn’t the right word.” Jasper spoke softly and dug his hands into his pockets. “Excited is more of what I’m feeling.” He gave Alice a sideways grin that made her laugh back at him.

“Well next Monday you’ll meet her. Just survive this week of school.” She grinned and nudged him with her elbow. “Which we have to leave now to get to.” Jasper finally noticed that the sun was starting to peak over the tree line. September was ending quickly, the beginning of October was this week and it was becoming obvious by the lateness of the sunrise that Fall had indeed started.

“One more week. But she’s already on her way here, right?” Jasper asked as he and Alice walked at a normal human pace to the garage. Alice nodded, recalling the vision she got just yesterday.

“Yup, she will be leaving today after the court case with her mother. She’s driving here from New Jersey, at a normal pace with food stops and rest, she should make it by Thursday night.” Alice already saw Scarlett arriving safely by Thursday night. The only time differences that affected her visions were Scarlett’s choices of where to eat and luckily differed only by 10 to 30 minutes.

“She’s going to be alright traveling by herself across the country?” Jasper asked yet again. Ever since he heard how his mate was to arrive in Forks, he had been thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Her car could break down and she would be at the mercy of whoever passed by. A frown graced Jasper’s lips while Alice simply rolled her eyes.

“She will be fine. Being alone and away from her mother will do her some good. She needs this time to herself.” Alice reassured as they finally reached the spacious garage and climbed into the Jeep Emmett was already revving.

“It needs to be next week already.” Jasper simply answered.

Thanks for reading. Check out my fanfiction and facebook page!

https://www.fanfiction.net/~kainna15

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[surrounded-by-superheroes]

Crave (Bucky Barnes)

Song for this series; Guns and Roses by Bohnes

Summary; The Asset.

Makes it sound like there was only one, doesn't it? One assassin, one soldier, one life stolen and taken over to be used as a tool for evil minds. There was never only one. Hydra's bloodstained hands, people called them. And once one's hands have been bathed in blood so many times, it's near impossible to look at the skin and not see red. Yet, when Hydra has been pushed out into the open by the Avengers there's the slightest flicker of hope for the asset left behind. You see, I never had a Steve Rogers. No one is looking for me. The only person I've ever had is the one I was trapped with, the one that's now free. The one who, if he finds me, I will surely destroy.

A/N; Hiya, been a while since I’ve posted anything original but I’m excited about this! O/C and Bucky Barnes. O/C’s aren’t things I do often, but I’m hopeful with this. With all this craziness with Tumblr, people have been freaking out, but I’ll be staying until this site shuts down. But, just in case, my Wattpad account is @kensy_lane There are longer stories on there and it is up to date. Hope you enjoy this new series! Please comment and reblog! It’s the only way I know you all like something.

Warnings; Blood, torture, mind control, dead bodies, it’s a rough chapter guys.

Words; 2,218

Crave Masterlist~~~Complete Masterlist

Chapter One

Old Friends and Memories

Dark. Humid. Wet.

Sweat drips off the ends of my hair to the floor and droplets stream down my back, neck, and arms. I do nothing to impede the droplets progress. It’s not in my nature to care about appearance. Metal and concrete are cold and hard on my body, but both are a relief. My limbs ache from an earlier mission, but I remain seated on the floor where I was placed. Mission complete, targets neutralized, I’d usually be put away by now.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry to keep you waiting.” I instantly stand at the sound of his voice and straighten into attention. My eyes don’t dare look up into his.

“This is a bad idea.” A man behind him whispers with an American accent and I don’t hesitate in meeting his eyes. Green eyes, brown hair, white skin, thin lips. His clothes tell me all I need to know about his standing here, as well as the heavy sigh given to him by the man in charge. When my eyes meet his he visibly flinches.

“Pity you think so, Dane.” The boss speaks with his own American accent and I drop my eyes to his boots as he steps in front of the young rookie. Usually, I’m working with Russians, so this is a change. This means something is happening. “Even more pitiful is that you think your opinion matters whatsoever here. Open the cage.” There’s a surprising amount of hesitation before the metal bars shift and open to reveal the small group of men. I remain stone-still until ordered otherwise.

“Sorry, sir.” The subordinate apologizes and I nearly smirk.

“Apologies don’t belong here, Dane. We don’t make mistakes.” He corrects him and steps inside the cage with me. “Shut the door.” The metal screams as they slide it closed. I watch his slick black boots as he walks in a circle around me, white hands with red knuckles hanging loose at his sides in confidence, black cattle prod strapped fondly to his right hip. “Head up.” Instantly I snap my head up and the group outside shuffles unsteadily. He keeps walking around me and I still avoid his eyes. I don’t have to see his face to call it to the forefront of my memory. Wrinkled. White. Aging blue eyes. Reddish blonde hair. Lips perpetually pulled down in a frown although I’ve seen him smile before. Usually with the cattle prod in his hand.

“See, she’s perfect.” He coos and stops in front of me facing his men. “Kneel.” Immediately, I kneel. “Open your mouth.” My jaw drops. He turns and nods satisfactorily at me. “Good girl.” He commends and I see the men outside smiling and elbowing each other. Suddenly I’m struck by a fist and I collapse to the side. My cheek thrums with pain, but I remain still on the filthy, sweat-covered floor. “We’ve reached perfection here. We’ve had great success with our two assets. One here, in America, meant to pave the way for the greatness of Hydra. One in Russia, keeping our assets there safe and furthering the cause we’ve fought hard to protect all these years. Now, it’s time we take another step.” He waves a hand and the door opens. He steps out and the group of fearful men scatter as someone else walks down the hall. Heavy boots hit the floor speaking of a weighted step. The expressions of the men outside speak of fear, apprehension, and…anticipation. “Stand.” The man in charge commands and I obey, not bothering to wipe the dirt off my cheek. My eyes wait and watch for whoever is coming just like the rest. When he rounds the corner, everyone but me takes a breath. Tall, broad, and dark is the man that emerges from the shadows as if he is one himself. Dark, greasy hair falls to strong shoulders and hands barely swing at his side. Dressed in black that’s a stark contrast to the white skin of his face but matches the scruff decorating his cheeks, he’s formidable. I recognize the clothing. It’s the same that I have on. It doesn’t take long for me to come to a conclusion.

This is the asset from Russia.

He takes two steps into the cage at a wave of the man’s hand, then turns back to the man in charge once he’s next to me. My eyes remain on my superior’s chest. “Arms.” He commands and we both raise our right arms in unison; wrists up. He steps forward with a gleaming silver syringe in his hands and takes my arm first. Ripples of fear and disgust roll throughout my body at his touch, but after the small prick and the injection of a sickly orange liquid, it’s done. He puts my arm down and trades his syringe for another. He injects the man to my side and once again hands the syringe off as he steps back. One of those rare smiles appears on his face and I feel unease swirl in my gut along with…something else.

“Welcome to the future.” He whispers as my stomach starts roiling. While he walks out and the cage shuts again, I fall to my knees with my arms around my stomach. “They’ll stay in here since the chemicals won’t work in cryo. You.” My eyes look up into his with defiance as pain rocks my body. Amusement dances across his face. “Make sure neither of you get out.” All I can do is gasp and dry heave since nothing’s in my stomach. Only now does the man next to me fall to his knees, but he’s still quiet. The man walks away among whispered congratulations and shakes hands with another down the hall.

“Well done, Pierce. Your work here will affect millions.” They exchange pleasantries as I finally fall to the floor and curl in on myself. My eyes meet the vivid blue of my cellmate and his eyebrows furrow at me. Something in them…calls to me. My hand shoots out and grabs his fingers, smudging dirt and sweat across them. Surprisingly, he lets me. Heat sears our skin when we touch and both our eyes widen, but we don’t part. He’s the thing I cling to as pain steals what sanity remains in me.

When it’s over, we’re not the same.

*Five Years Later*

                                                 Alexander Pierce

                                       August 18, 1936 - April 4, 2014

Hm. That’s it. Wish they’d put traitor on it too, but I guess I can’t have everything. Isn’t even worth the price of the headstone anyways. I take great satisfaction shoving my shovel into the dirt of his grave and shoving it to the side. It takes me a little less than an hour to hit the hard shell of his coffin. Dark, smooth, and still glossy, it gives me a little pleasure to chip the top with my shovel. Tossing my shovel to the side, I stoop down and take a deep breath before opening the top half. The smell of embalming and decay hits me instantly and I make sure to breathe it in deeply. I will savor every facet of this moment. He’s still relatively fresh, so I can easily make out his pale, wrinkled face, downturned lips, but not those eyes. I have no desire to see those eyes again. Relief washes over me so ferociously I sway slightly in the hole I’ve made. My hand shoots out and grasps a handful of grass to steady me while my eyes burn into his face. The face that has tormented my every step for all my life. After I’ve regained my breath, I bend down and rest my knees on the rest of his coffin so I can hover over him.

“Seems I’ve beaten you, old man. I outlived you.” I smirk and tuck back my wild red hair so it doesn’t touch him. Grimacing, I note my hands are shaking. Looking back at the corpse, I spit in his face and slam the coffin shut again, climbing out of the hole victoriously. After rolling my shoulders, I begin the process of reburying the scum. So, it’s true. He’s dead. A weight lifts off my shoulders at the revelation.

“What the hell are you doing?” My arm lifts and chucks the shovel metallic end first at the voice. His gleaming left arm snaps up and catches it easily. Sitting at a stone bench, he looks like some version of the grim reaper come to snatch me into the afterlife. Well. Many have tried and failed.

“You know why I’m here.” I sigh and straighten up, wishing I hadn’t thrown my shovel. It’ll be dented now. He stands and my breath hitches at the mere movement, my heart speeding up ridiculously. The sight of him is a salve to my heart and eyes after years of avoidance. My soul sighs it’s relief to be near him again and begs me to get closer. He walks over and tosses the shovel back to me.

“You had to see him dead yourself.” He says with understanding shining in those familiar blue eyes. Moonlight makes them seem slightly silver, also making his arm seem polished. Or maybe he’s just taken to polishing it these days.

“The real question is why you’re here.” I comment before continuing burying my monster, ignoring my body’s ache. He crosses his arms and sighs, leaving a puff of mist in his breaths wake.

“I’m here because you’re here. Wanted to see you.” He reveals and I can’t help but chuckle.

“We both know you could find me any time you wanted, James.” I shoot back and his lips curve up a little when I say his name.

“Missed you sayin my name.” He teases and I roll my eyes.

“Don’t start that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we both know it’ll lead to something we don’t want.”

“We both know that do we?” He questions and elicits another heavy sigh from me.

“I asked you to knock it off. You’re just avoiding my question anyways.” I point an accusatory finger at him and proceed in my mission.

His arms uncross and instead bury his hands in his jean pockets. “Thought maybe you’d be a little more open to me now.” James eyes me carefully so he can read every slight move I make. It’s irritating. I pause and lean against the shovel as my eyes run up and down his familiar shape.

“You seem good.” I comment civilly for once. “Are you?” His expression lightens when he gifts me a small, genuine smile.

“I’m better. Better than you, I’d say. Why don’t you come back with me, Rosie?” My eyes narrow at the use of the nickname, but my heart soars that he remembers it. I shake my head and finish the job as Bucky waits for his answer.

After wiping the sweat from my brow, I start heading back to the parking lot with Bucky at my side. “Don’t call me that, first of all. Second, it’s a bad idea. Third, I like being on my own.” He scoffs.

“You can’t say every idea I have is bad just because I came up with it. I’m not the worst strategist in the world.” He jokes as I watch him. It’s good to see him like this. The emotion in his eyes belies years of emptiness and the small smile on his face could almost make me forget that he was by my side during those years of abuse. “So, Rosie? Come back with me.” He emphasizes that damn nickname before reaching out and taking my free hand just before we get to the asphalt. Warmth spreads through me as the tiniest contact and his eyes shut a moment in relief. The shovel falls from my other hand from the shock of his touch but I can’t resist letting my fingers cling to him like sailors to a life preserver. I jerk my hand away as soon as I realize what I’m doing. My eyes consider his for a moment before walking over to my motorcycle and grabbing a pen and receipt from the bag on the back. I hold the paper steady as I write down my address, then shove it into his hand, careful not to touch his skin.

“Here. Next time you won’t have to surprise me in a graveyard.” I tease softly before mounting my bike and kicking back the kickstand. Bucky moves in front of me with the piece of paper held tightly in callused fingers.

“How do I know this isn’t fake?” He asks and I shake my head at him.

“You’ll know if you go to it and I’m not there. Now, I will run you over if you don’t move.” A smirk curves his lips up as he steps out of the way and I start her up.

Chapter Two Here!

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Son Of Scheherazade, 12

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors Drucilla and BlueShifted who deserve all the appreciation in the world, honestly, I don't deserve 'em.

I actually had no idea what to make the challenge until it was time to write it, and my editors gave me some really helpful suggestions. I was very tempted to put some YuGiOh jokes in there =P Anyway, think of this as the end of Part One of our journey - we're finally off to find the parents!

Summary: It's Mickey versus Daisy in a game of wit and gifts! Can Mickey find a way to defeat a mind-reader, or will he lose the woman he loves?

Pete didn't have fond memories of his mother – he didn't have fond memories of anyone. But as he laid there with his swollen ankles, his aching stomach, and the stinging cuts on his face, he decided that the kind touch to his head was indeed motherly. His head lay in Sultana Scheherazade's lap, with her fingers tenderly stroking him as if he was her young son that was now far away. She was humming a soft melody, probably a lullaby from Mickey's baby days. Sultan Al sat with his wife, their backs together, his eyes on the only light in the wide, open cell. A small, square hole was several feet above them, impossible to reach, yet had three solid bars attached to it as if to further mock the prisoners. Sunlight was slowly leaving, and soon it would be night. Then the terrors would begin anew.

Scheherazade accidentally touched one of Pete's cut ears, and he flinched in pain, growling. “My apologies,” she said gently as she pulled her hand back. “I do not know why our captor tortures you so... but never give up hope.” She smiled serenely, never losing her beauty even in the worst of tragedies. “My son will come for us, and every day he is but one step closer to our rescue. Even now, he will gain an ally who will help him find this cursed kingdom.”

Pete grunted, but he didn't pull away. Even if he wanted to, he lacked the strength. “How can you know that?” But this was a question he knew the answer to. It was why he was there.

She resumed petting him. “In the town of Maelumat, they have found a girl with the gift. Once my son has claimed victory, she will be able to lead him where he needs to go.”

The Sultan thumped a fist to his chest. “She won't stand a chance! There is no son more clever than ours.”

Pete doubted this – sons of fools were fools themselves. Footsteps echoed off in the distance, and Scheherazade's kind touch now became tight, her warm eyes now ice cold. Sultan Al tried to get to his feet, but he was losing strength day by day. The footsteps came closer, and the door to the dungeon cell flew open. Spirals of inky black smog wrapped around Pete's feet, dragging him out – his fingers dug into the ground, Scheherazade tried to grab him, and Al struggled to chase the attacker. But as with every night, these attempts failed. The cell door slammed shut once Pete was gone, and he was lost to the darkness.

“Wretch!” Scheherazade screamed, rising to her feet, grabbing the iron bars and shaking them. “You wretch! You will never win, do you hear me? This kingdom of yours will never be what you desire!”

Even though they couldn't see a body, a chilling voice spoke in the dark. “I will have your son... and you will obey me, Lady Scheherazade. One way or another, you will do as I command.”

At the mention of her child, Scheherazade's screams became more frantic. “I will never tell you where he is! Never, not even if you put me to death! You will rue the day you ever thought of harming a single hair on his head! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE MY CHILD!” At this last shout, she broke into tears, and her husband took her into his arms, ashamed that he had no words to console her. All he had now was his faith, the faith in his son to win his game and become closer to freeing his loved ones.

Although right now, he was one of the few people who actually had that faith.

~*~

Not that the members of Goofy's crew weren't trying to have faith in Mickey – it was just becoming a difficult task. While they waited for the appointed time, Mickey paced everywhere his feet could go, struggling to think of strategies against the supernatural. What if he tried to meditate and empty his mind? Or concentrate on something else to block his thoughts? Or just tried to think of a song that would get stuck in his head? Minnie offered the obvious idea of using a wish, but to no one's surprise, it was immediately shot down. He didn't want to abuse Minnie in order to save Minnie. Then there was the biggest bother of them all, his pride, which he didn't tell anyone as he once more walked into the bar when the stars began to decorate the sky.

Mickey's pride had taken a severe blow thanks to Lotus Blossom, and here was a chance to restore what was left. If he wanted to prove he was more than just the Son of Scheherazade, this was the right opportunity for it. He'd have to use his brains to win the day – if only his brain didn't keep saying “I'm doomed” over and over again. He expected his adventures to be full of sword-fights and monsters, not games of wit. The bar was nearly empty, save for the last waitresses heading up a staircase behind the bar, though Mickey couldn't see where it led to. He advanced onward to where he saw Daisy leave before, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

It was Donald. “I know you can do it, Mickey.”

Mickey squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Thanks, Donald...you wouldn't happen to know how I can do it, do you?”

“Heck no. I'd have given up right away.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at that needless honesty, and that's when Panchito burst through their moment of friendship. “Have no worries, amigo! Jose and I have a brilliant idea to help you win the day!”

Jose took his cue from Panchito, suddenly and elaborately moving his arms and hands about. “We'll signal to you and let you know what she's doing! For example, if the challenge is the mischievous game of poker, and she has a queen of hearts, we'll do this!” He and Panchito then performed an absolutely nonsensical dance that had nothing at all to do with hearts, queens, or common sense.

“Uh... thanks, guys, we'll see how that works out.” Mickey drew out his words of gratitude, his last remaining optimism dying. He glanced at his elders, hoping to find some advice or well-wishes, but Goofy, Clarabelle and Horace were all equally nervous, not even able to look Mickey in the eye. They noticed his troubled glare, and gave a trio of shaky thumbs-up. “... Gee, guys, tone it down, or I'll be bursting with confidence.” His sarcasm dripped from his mouth, his entire body now sagging with uncertainty.

Mickey almost didn't bother looking at Minnie, thinking she'd be just as hopeless, but it turned out that she was staring at him with such intensity that he felt he'd melt into the floor. She looked him straight in the eyes, with no quiver to her tiny frame or wringing of her wrists. “You will win, Master,” she said without a doubt in her voice. “You must believe it, and believe in yourself.”

“That's easier said than done,” Mickey admitted, the door to Daisy's room now looking scarier than the open mouth of a shark. “I know that if I think about losing, I'll be sunk, but it's hard to think about anything else.”

Minnie glanced away, then back to him, her cheeks suddenly taking on a reddish hue. She had an idea to distract him – for her freedom! That's what this was about! Certainly nothing else. “Well... what if I gave you something to think about? Something that would make you positive you could win?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet doubtful. “Shoot, I'd take anything at this point. Whaddya got?”

Minnie jabbed her pointer finger to his chest. “Just remember, this is to build up your confidence. That's all. Don't go thinking it means anything more than that. I am a genie, and it is my duty to help my Master in all ways.” She was really more saying it to herself than him, and even then she didn't quite believe it. Regardless of all her silly logic, she leaned in and did it anyway.

She quickly kissed his cheek.

~*~

Within her room, Daisy was making the final arrangements for the challenge. Despite her domineering attitude, her quarters were very messy. Piles of both washed and unwashed clothes lay here and there, with won jewelries lazily stacked on tilted tables. Everything was done haphazardly – a colorful carpet was partially rolled, artwork was hung crookedly, and there was a smell that was possibly old food that had been forgotten about. It made for a startling contrast to the prim and proper beauty that sat at a round table in the middle of the room. She was wearing new trinkets and new make-up, her white hair now rolling down her arm, her pet snake nestled within her braid. The table was covered with a red sheet, with two cups of water. Daisy sat in a wooden chair, quietly shuffling a deck of cards, waiting for her opponent who would sit in the opposite one.

Above her was a shabbily-made balcony, made for the sole purpose of watching Daisy's challenges. She was specifically had it installed so people could come see her taken down challengers, her ego inflated with each face in the crowd. Waitresses and bar patrons were trying to get a good view, eager to see how this would go down, yet also feeling pity for her latest victim. No doubt he was getting ready to lick his wounds and go home crying to mama.

The door smashed open. “BRING IT ON, LADY!” Mickey shouted in a deliriously cheerfully loud boom. “I AM THE SON OF SCHEHERAZADE AND I CAN'T BE BEAT! I AM GUNNA BEAT YOU SIX WAYS 'TIL TUESDAY! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Some of the audience almost fell off the balcony in shock. What could have given him such maddening confidence?

Behind him, Minnie buried her face in her hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “Please make him stop.”

Mickey marched into the room, unable to stop grinning, and he slammed his hands on the table. “I AM GOING TO WIN, AND YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT MY PARENTS, AND THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT, MISSY!” Thank goodness Minnie had only kissed his cheek. Had she gone for the lips, he might have completely lost his mind.

Daisy, all the while, was unimpressed. She didn't even bother looking up as she continued to shuffle and reshuffle. “That was some kiss she gave you.”

“YOU BET IT WAS, AND SHE... how... did...” Like a balloon losing it's air, Mickey's voice lost its loudness as he looked behind him. The door had been shut, so how did Daisy know there had been a kiss – unless she read his mind? “Uh. Oh boy.” Talk about knocking the wind out of his sails – she capsized the entire boat.

Daisy lightly waved her hand towards the group. “Speaking of which, I'll need all of you joining the crowd upstairs. No need for cheaters.”

Panchito snapped his fingers in frustration. “Dang, and we just came up with a new set of hand-signals!  Maybe we can sing him clues!” Jose began to hum in agreement.

Donald grabbed each bird by the arm and dragged them away. “If you ask me, a mind-reader is the biggest cheat of them all.”

“Good luck,” said Horace before he left.

“You're gunna need it,” said Clarabelle before she left.

Goofy lightly picked up Minnie in his arms. “All righty, let's head up before you smooch him again and he starts bringing the house down.”

“I DIDN'T KISS HIM BECAUSE I WANTED TO,” Minnie objected with a very loud lie, and the entire group made their way to the balcony as quickly as their feet could take them. Within a minute, they had shoved and pushed their way into the audience, with everyone trying to get a good look at the action.

With a heavy sigh, Mickey took his place at the table. “Now or never, I guess... what's the challenge?”

Daisy finally stopped shuffling, and held up one of the cards – on the one side was a blue and white checkered pattern. On the other was an illustration of an angelic woman, her arms open in grace, with billowing white robes and blonde hair masking her face. “In the west,” Daisy said, laying the card face-up, “there is a belief in beings called angels, who will lead the good to their paradise in the skies above. But there is also the belief in beings called demons, who will take you down to the underworld below. They hide in crowds of angels to lead sinners to their downfall.”

She then pulled out another card and laid it down – it was another angel, but this one was playing a harp, her head bowed in modesty. “In this deck, every angel has a match, but there is only one demon. We start with five cards. Each turn, you have three choices – match and discard the ones in your hand, pick a new card from the deck, or take one from your opponent.” She flipped another card down – it matched the first open-armed angel. “The game stops when one player is stuck with the demon, and is damned to the fiery pits below.”

“This sounds like Old Maid,” Goofy quipped.

“No, it's totally different and exotic and well-thought-out,” Donald whispered.

Daisy took the cards back and shuffled them back onto the deck. “This is your last chance to turn back, your highness. Give me the lamp willingly, and I'll tell you what you want to know... or you can lose the lamp, and your last chance at finding your parents.” She smiled sweetly, as if she wasn't driving a knife into his heart. “Is it really that hard a choice?”

Mickey glared as hard as he could manage, trying to hide his fears about his choices. “Deal me in, Daisy.”

“Suit yourself. Can't say I didn't warn you,” Daisy chirped pleasantly, and she doled out five cards to each of them, placing the deck between them. “As my first and last gesture of fair play, I'll let you go first.”

Mickey looked at the cards in his hands. Two angels were reading a book, one was playing the flute, one was the open-armed woman, and the last had the harp. This was a new game to him in many ways – his father preferred physical games, like playing tag and hide and seek. His mother was always inventing new games with her creative genius. But since he didn't have the demon, maybe things were off to a good start. “I pair.” He slid out the two book-readers and placed them beside the deck.

“I'll take from the deck,” Daisy swiftly took a card into her hand.

“I'll do the same.” This angel was taking a nap on a fluffy cloud.

“I pair.” And so the game went on peacefully for several turns. At first, it was dreadfully boring for the audience above. Some began to nod off.

Mickey's confidence began to return card by card. What was so challenging about this? Shoot, he could beat a child in this game! He glanced at Daisy, who took a sip of water and seemed the same as ever. He fought off a smirk. Maybe she was going easy on him and needed to put on a front for her customers – he could stand a little bit of babying if it meant he got what he needed! “I'll take from the deck.”

And he took the demon.

Even a person without mind-reading powers could have guessed this, judging from Mickey's wide eyes and the huge bite on his lower lip as if he was suppressing the urge to yelp in shock. Daisy chuckled quietly, fanning herself with her hand of cards. “Oh good, things are finally getting interesting!”

“Th-the game's not over yet,” Mickey stammered, trying to believe it himself. He now had six cards in his hand – the napping angel was still with him, an angel listening to a seashell, a pair of angels picking petals off flowers, one kneeling in prayer and lastly, the demon itself – a snarling dark entity with a man's face but goat horns, wearing a gray cloak and holding a scythe in its claws. He shuffled the small bundle in his hands, trying to think.

“I think I'll take sleeping beauty from you,” Daisy said, and she reached over, plucking the napper away.

Mickey froze. He hadn't even finished shuffling, yet she knew what was where! When did she start using her powers? Had she ever even stopped? “I... I'll take from the deck!” But as he reached over, he saw how small the deck was – when the game had started, it seemed like an endless deck. As a result, Mickey kept pulling, pairing, pulling, pairing, and now he could guess there were maybe twenty left. Very soon, it would just be a matter of picking between their hands. Had she planned it all along?

“I decided to go easy on you,” Daisy answered him, and Mickey almost jumped out of his seat. “You seemed to really need a boost of self-esteem after that pretty thief played with your heart. Shame you never got that kiss. I hoped it would've been worth something.”

Mickey slowly took the new card in his hands. “That was then, and this is now. I won't be fooled again!” Maybe if he shuffled them faster, she wouldn't know where the demon was, and he watched his own hands shuffle as quickly as they could.

“You have a pair of horn players on your right,” Daisy chimed in, still perfectly pleasant. “I mean, I could tell you how the entire game is going to go piece by piece, but maybe that would make things a little boring. And I can't stand boring things.” She reached over to pluck away one of the horns players. “Thankfully for me, your head is full of excitement. Daring adventures, new lands, it's all very thrilling...” She lifted her eyes from the cards to his face. “Except for you, poor dear. You are exceptionally, sadly, and undoubtedly dull. ”

Mickey swiftly took a new card from the deck. Even though they were going to run out of cards soon, he felt he couldn't afford to put any pairs down. If he had more cards, maybe it would buy more time. He bit his lip, trying not to say anything, trying not to rise to her bait, no matter how angry he got. “It can't be easy, being the Son of Scheherazade. Mom's got all the fame, and what have you got? A sword you barely know how to use? A flying carpet that doesn't obey you? Oh, by the way, your current strategy isn't going to work.” She placed a pair down.

Mickey could feel his heart beating faster, and he stared down at the cards in his hands. The demon stared back at him, and for a second Mickey thought he heard it laughing cruelly. He noticed that while the background of the demon's scenery was plain white, just like all the other cards, there was the tiniest of smears down in the left corner, a hint of gray. He didn't know why he picked up on such an inconsequential detail when there were more important things to worry about. He picked another card from the deck. Less than fifteen cards remained in the deck. How could he make her choose the demon?

“The demon will never belong to me,” Daisy answered for him, making his nerves extra jumpy. “I'll always know what you have because I'll always know what you know. I know everything about everyone. I know that Clarabelle can't fix her nail-biting habit, I know that Jose is running out of cigars, I know that you're panicking.” She chuckled quietly, taking sheer delight in Mickey's frustration. “Maybe it's a good thing you won't rescue your parents. They'd probably be disappointed to see how you're losing.”

“I won't lose,” but Mickey's voice was a whisper, afraid to look upwards and see the disappointed faces of his friends. No matter how much he moved his cards around, Daisy knew which ones to pick. At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he was stuck with the demon. In a desperate move, he tried to take one of her cards, but before he could slid it into his hands, she merely snatched the same one back, using up her turn to mock him further.

“That lamp is going to look marvelous here,” she cooed, admiring all her treasures from past victories. “I just can't decide where I'm going to put it. Oh well, I'm sure I'll figure out what to do with it... it does have so many vast uses, after all. I wish I could tell you all the possibilities.” She giggled slyly,  knowing what buttons to push.

Mickey took a card – now there were ten in the deck. Daisy must have known exactly who – rather, what – Minnie was to say such things, and there was no way she'd ever be a kind master. Minnie's faith in Mickey was going to cost her her freedom. What had he been thinking? He should have just told Minnie no and apologized later! This was going to be all his fault! He was going to lose her, and even worse, she was going to be miserable and chained the rest of her life! She didn't deserve that, no one did!

As Mickey's panic began to override all his senses, one of his hands went to a familiar ritual, rubbing the scar on his neck. The bandanna covering it slid down as he rubbed, revealing the golden hue it now took.

“That's the only problem I have with it,” Daisy lamented as she put another pair down. “I don't think I have any necklaces big enough to cover something like that. But I guess I'll just have to manage. Thank goodness I'm so beautiful that people will be looking everywhere else.”

Mickey furrowed his brows, annoyed by her vanity, knowing she was just rubbing in her victory all the more – but then he really heard it. She thought she was going to get the scar when she got the lamp. Mickey's hand stayed where it was, finally losing its shakes. The scar got its golden appearance by a wish, but the scar itself had been there ever since his childhood – from that one blood-soaked day – from the day of revenge -  Mickey's eyes slowly began to widen. Daisy thought the scar came from the lamp. Did she not know where it really came from? How could she not, if she was reading his mind?

Unless...

Mickey's eyes met Daisy's eyes and refused to move. If he was right, there was one way to test it. He refused to look at anything but her, and instead of thinking about what cards to play or even that terrible day of his past, he thought one sentence over and over.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

Daisy plucked a card from Mickey's hand. “So, are you going to apologize to the little lady now, or will you wait until I win-” In that second, Mickey's hand suddenly lashed out, smacking his glass off the table and shattering it on the floor. Daisy jumped out of her seat, and members of the audience gasped in surprise. Daisy stared down at the mess, and then clicked her tongue. “Daddy's temper, I see. Maybe you did inherit something from your parents after all.”

But when she lifted her head, she didn't see a single trace of anger on Mickey's face. Instead, much to her shock, and the shock of those above, Mickey was grinning, displaying all his pearly-whites. “On the contrary, Daisy... I've never felt happier! I'm about to turn this game right back around!”

Daisy sat back down, snorting in disbelief. “Is that right? Or did the pressure make you snap?”

“I haven't lost my mind – maybe if you actually could read minds, you'd know that for a fact!” Mickey slammed all his cards face-down, eyes burning with new intensity. “I'm calling your bluff – you never could read minds! This has all been a trick!”

At last, there was a crack in Daisy's armor – she swallowed hard, slow, her fingers drumming the table beat by beat. Up above, whispers began to turn into shouts. “She can't read minds?” Goofy repeated, scratching his head. “How can that be? She knows everything!”

“She doesn't know my Master!” Minnie was on the edge of the balcony, clicking her heels over and over in delight. She was so thrilled by this turn-around she forgot her whole 'cold as ice' act.

“That's a dangerous assumption to make, your highness,” Daisy finally replied, snatching a new card from the deck, the first time she'd done so in ages. “What makes you think I'm not what I say I am?”

“You've got some kind of trick up your sleeve,” Mickey admitted, removing the bandanna from his neck. “But this right here...for the longest time, I wore it as a mark of shame for my family. The real memory behind this haunted me for years... but today, I'm wearing it as a badge of honor! Because you can't tell me where it really came from, can you?” He hadn't told a single person the ship – he hadn't even told Pluto. There were only a handful of people who knew the origin of the scar, and Mickey knew Daisy wasn't one of them. “If you can really read my mind, then read it now, and tell me how I got it!”

Daisy didn't answer right away, but her cheery demeanor had begun to darken considerably. The drumming on the table got louder and faster, nearly making the table quiver. The snake in her hair poked its tiny head out to hiss, only stopping when Daisy spoke in a cold tone. “Nothing says you've won yet. As long as you still have the demon in your possession, the game is far from over. I know exactly what cards you had!”

“But do you know exactly where they are?” Mickey countered, placing his hands back on the table. Without waiting her for her to answer, he began to shuffle them around quickly, never looking down. “Somehow you saw what I saw – but if I can't see what I have, how can you?” It was a dangerous gamble, but for now it was all he had.

“You'll regret messing with me, kid!” Daisy snapped, reaching over to take a card. Relief flooded her face, and she turned it over to reveal an angel lighting a candle. “Seems like lady luck is on my side. Rather fitting, since your experience with ladies is less than nil.”

“Your head games won't work on me anymore.” Mickey took a card from the deck, reshuffling the ones on the table. “You know information, but you don't know people! You know what you see, but you can't see anything past that! You see me only as the Son of Scheherazade, but I'm much more than that!” She couldn't read his mind, so now he was free to think again! If she was more focused on playing mental tricks on people, then she wasn't a real strategist after all. That meaningless detail from before – had a part of him known it would come in handy? “I'm more than who I came from.” He laid his cards back down, and now afforded a look at their backs. If that one card had a stain on its front, if he was right about where it came from – he slid one card a quarter-inch above the rest -

“You'll never be anything more than the Son of Scheherazade!” Daisy declared as she snatched a card, but her confidence was obliterated when she saw what was in her hands. “W-what the..? How?” There in her fingers sat the demon in all its hellish glory.

Mickey smiled, and for the first time since the game started he looked up at the audience. All their previously downtrodden faces were now glowing in happy surprise, with Donald, Jose, and Panchito all dancing in an ill-placed circle. Clarabelle and Horace were hugging, Goofy was laughing, and Minnie was gazing at him in wonder, her hands on her cheeks, eyes starry. Mickey was definitely going to remember that last one for a long time. “It's an old kid's trick... you push the card you want your opponent to take just a little bit up, and they'll grab it because it's closest!” With his hand free of demons, he picked his cards back up and placed a pair down.

Daisy inhaled deeply, taking a new card from the deck. Soon it would be completely empty, and they'd be down to the ones in their hands. “I won't fall for that again. Just because I have the demon doesn't mean anything's decided yet! Whatever gifts I have, you have none. You have no idea where it is!” She shuffled her hand, but Mickey wasn't wavering – he swiftly took one card from her, returning the candle angel to his hand.

Deck, pair, pair, deck, pair, deck, deck, deck – several turns passed, with crowd beginning to cheer for Mickey each time a card was taken. Now the deck was gone, and the two opponents had only what was left in their hands. Daisy had five, Mickey had four. At one madcap turn, Daisy tried to pull the same trick on Mickey he'd done for her, but it failed, and now Daisy was left with four, and after Mickey placed a pair down, he had three.

Daisy wiped sweat from her brow, her eyes dancing back and forth between her cards. “How can you possibly know what you're doing? I've never lost a single game in my entire life! What makes you think someone like you can beat me?”

“I said it before, Daisy,” Mickey snatched another card from Daisy, leaving her with three. “You don't see beyond the surface!”

“What can you see that I can't see?” Daisy yanked a card back. “There's nothing I can't see!”

Back and forth, back and forth, a pair – now Mickey had one card, and Daisy two. It would take just one movement to end everything, and judging from Mickey's beaming face, he knew exactly what to do. He stood up out of his chair, feeling tall for one of the very few times in his short life. “You know how to play people like a fiddle. You can't see what's in their heads, but you know how to get in them. It makes people mighty nervous... and I bet you've played this exact game with a bunch of people. And when you play your tricks, they get so nervous they sweat. And you've used this trick and this game on so many people... it's left its mark!” The stain on the corner of the card had been a sweaty thumbprint – and there were similar, small stains on its back, where the other fingers would have been! Daisy had been so used to messing with people she never took an actual good look at the cards she used. While the other cards bore the marks of time, the demon's smears stood out most of all.

With one last pull, he took away the remaining angel card, holding it with the last card and flashing them both for all to see – two harps. “I walk with the angels, Daisy – game over!”

The crowd exploded into ecstatic cheers, people kissing and hugging each other, threatening to break the poorly-made balcony with each triumphant jump. The beastly owner of the bar had been bested! The impossible had been done! Three cheers for the Son of Scheherazade! Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me! M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E! Minnie pushed past the chants and cheers, trying to get back down the stairs so she could see Mickey face to face. Once again, he had done what others thought couldn't - or just thought he couldn't. Was there no limit to his strength, to his bravery, to his cleverness? He was truly something, wasn't he?

There came that strange, warm feeling in her chest, but now it was much more intense, like a fever, which was strange because genies didn't get sick. How odd. Oh well, it was hardly anything to worry about now – Mickey had won! His parents were as good as rescued! Freedom was almost hers! Mickey had won, Mickey had won, her marvelous Master had won!

Daisy stayed silent in her seat for a long time, her fingers curling and crumpling the demon card. This was a new sensation for her – loss. She took her time leaving her seat, her eyes unreadable. She walked around the table, her every step a stomp. “That...was...SO MUCH FUN!”

Mickey dropped his cards. “Huh?”

“I've never lost before! This is amazing!” Daisy grabbed Mickey's hands, swinging them around happily. “Oh, thank you, your highness! You've brought the most excitement I've ever had in my whole entire life! This was grand!” She even hugged him tightly, popping one foot up. “A true cure for my boredom at last! I've never been happier!”

“You're... welcome?” Mickey replied in confusion – given all the enemies he'd dealt with before, he was expecting something along the lines of “You'll rue the day!” or “Curse you, boy!” Even though he had uncovered some of the truth about her, he was quite certain he'd never entirely understand her. “You are still going to tell me about my parents, right?”

“Fiddle-de-dee, of course I am, silly.” Daisy lightly poked his nose, and then went to a pile of clothes to dig something from within. She popped out an old cloth bag, and began to stuff it with clothes and jewels. “But first, it's time to pack.”

While the bar patrons above were still partying, Goofy's crew stopped. Clarabelle went white. “Did she say pack?”

“I have a bad feeling,” Horace added. Just because Daisy wasn't a mind reader didn't stop her from being unpleasant to be around.

“Pack?” Mickey scratched his head. “What for?”

“Well, you don't expect me to travel with you guys without my things, do you?” she chirped, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“Travel – that wasn't part of the deal!” Mickey squeaked, looking up at his friends for help, but they'd already started running, hoping to get to the ship before she did.

“It wasn't not part of the deal!” Daisy said, chipper as she looped her arm around Mickey's. “Oh, and don't take what I said during the game too seriously. You're a good kid! I just like messing with people. Think of me as the troll under the bridge, bothering the billy-goats as they pass.” She then proceeded to drag the stunned mouse to the door.

Mickey had won, but he was also starting to feel he'd also somehow lost. “Didn't the troll eat the billy-goats?”

“Tomato, tamata.”

The door opened before they made it, with Minnie ready to heap praise upon her Master. “I knew you could do it! I knew you were...” She trailed off, seeing the two arm-in-arm. “... Did I miss something?”

“Yep.” Daisy grinned. “We're eloping!”

“WHAT?!”

“Heeheeheeheeeeeeee~! Just kidding.” Daisy laughed, pushing Minnie aside to walk on. “This is going to be so much fun! So many new toys to play with!”

And so the terror of Maelumat finally left, leaving the waitresses wondering who owned it now, before deciding to form the world's first worker's union.

~*~

Pete could taste blood in his mouth, and he didn't want to look up. Yet even when his eyes shut, he knew who stood before him with a whip in his hand, and he heard the dark chuckles vibrating in his ears.

“So, the boy is in Maelumat?” the shadowy master confirmed. “Excellent work, Pete. She won't tell me a thing... but as long as she's convinced you're just as much my prisoner as she is, she'll spill her guts to you all day long.”

“Speaking of guts spilling...” Pete groaned, his hands on his stomach. “How about we call it quits early tonight?”

The man tsked. “Now now... we have to make her believe I'm torturing you, and make it look real. If you want their kingdom to belong to you again, you'll just have to endure it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, so it's said.”

Pete didn't know how that could be right, when he felt as weak as a kitten, and not just physically. Every day, as he felt the motherly touch at day and the stinging whip at night, his soul and humanity died a little bit more.

“My kingdom will return to its glory,” said the dark being, raising his weapon again, “And soon, all will worship The Phantom Prince!”

[cryptoriawebb]

Inspired by this piece of art I did.

“Mephisto!” He hears his name before he sees her; a flurry of auburn and molten butterflies hurtling towards him. Alarm bubbles in his throat, bursting into a startled grunt before he can call out. Then he’s got a face full of crumbling crystal and pain rockets through his nose and forehead and suddenly something’s raining down from above—

The pieces come together with a disorienting click. Mephisto bolts upright, hissing as the world around him swerves. Eyes squeeze shut, grappling at the ground for stability. The action jogs his memory and his vibrant-green gaze snaps open again. Praxina.

“Praxina!” He cries, scrambling to his knees. Stomach lurches, knocking his heart into his throat. No. No no no where is she? Then he sees it: that same, flustered flurry of reddish-brownish, identical hair color to his own. Fanning amidst chunks of glowing rubble, beyond the ledge that has become their battleground.  “Praxina!”

Praxina turns her head, blue eyes wide and dazed. Fly, he begs, and tries to say it aloud, but that battlefield tilts and he clutches his head and suddenly kneeling feels impossibly difficult to maintain. Nonetheless, his eyes remain on his sister; just as wide and glittering with fear. Come on, fly, get out of there. It’s just crystal, after all. Glowing crystal, but nothing his twin couldn’t escape. How long had they’d been chasing the cursed princesses? And how many of those times had they narrowly gotten away? These crystal casualties should be a—

He swears he hears her gasp. Hears her say his name a final time. Her eyes, however, scream louder than words ever could:  ‘Mephisto, I’m sorry, forgive me, I don’t want to leave you.’

Those eyes are the last thing he sees before the world explodes in violent purple light. He’s thrown to the ground for a second time, landing hard on his front. Copper erupts in the back of his throat, but it’s hardly a second thought. Praxina. Praxina, no!

“No!”  Agony lances up and down his body, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care about anything but the very real possibility his sister might be—

Dizziness strikes again, tag-teaming the rattling throb inside his chest. Just as suddenly as he manages to stand, footing disappears, and then he’s falling, falling the same way Praxina had, hurtling helplessly towards the ground, below. His sister’s name passes through his mind before the world blacks out.

When he comes to, everything hurts. A grueling, all-encompassing pain that sits on his body like one of their monsters gone astray.

Their monsters. Their.

“Praxina…” Mephisto moans, sagging into the earth. Head dips and presses against a bed of grass, dusted in fine crystal but otherwise unblemished by chaos. At any other given day, he’d make some ridiculous comment about the princesses finding it surprising, even hopeful…but this wasn’t any given day, and he had no one to joke with.

Not anymore.

Tears fuzz his vision, and then they’re falling, disappearing into the mossy green. The princesses. Those damned, righteous idiots always won in the end! And for what? To add another stupid little gem to Ephedia’s crown? He and his sister were living, breathing Ephedians! Did they ever stop to think about that? No, he thinks, slamming a fist into the ground. The action immediately triggers nauseating pain. He stops, choking. No they didn’t.

He isn’t sure how long he lays there. How long it takes for his body to numb and dull to hollow resignation. For the tears to dry and stick to his cheeks; visible one moment, disappeared and gone the next, its only trace a raw and very real aching heart. Just like Praxina. He doubts very much anyone on this cursed world would remember her death, if they’d even notice it at all.

Right hand forms another fist, joined this time by its partner. Though sore and strained, they hold together. “It can’t end like this…” Princess Iris and her candy-colored crew could not get away without punishment. Can’t they? Countered a miserable voice—his own, dredged with exhaustion. You were barely victorious as a team. What will you do alone?

It’s a question he doesn’t want to answer. Praxina would know. Praxina always knew what to do when he failed to conjure a solution. Praxina isn’t here.  No, no she wasn’t, and that was the entire point. Mephisto was on his own. No direction, no temporary allies to rely on…nothing but beaten bones and a gnawing, rattled yearning for vengeance.

Vengeance can be yours, child.

What?

Mephisto looks up, a sharp twinge seizing his neck. He ignores it, a colder, more prominent feeling condensing in his stomach.

“Banes…?”

The beast stands before him, dark fire rolling across its back. The same flame coils around its tail, crackling and swinging methodically, behind. Beady white eyes bore into Mephisto’s weary greens, almost challenging, daring him to ask: ‘did I speak? Can a creature as I do such a thing?’

Ultimately, Mephisto decides it doesn’t matter. Not right now. If Banes is here, that means one of two things. Either Gramorr requires backup (although why he’d need Mephisto’s help with the crown poisoned is a question in itself), or—

…or the war was over.

As though reading his mind, Banes pushes something forward with its massive paw. Mephisto’s breath catches. For a split second, the sound around him drains and fizzles out.

“Gramorr’s mask…”  He murmurs. So it is true. The old Sorcerer had met his match and left nothing but a fragment behind. A fragment and Banes, he thinks, looking to the creature again. That soulless stare hasn’t wavered. ‘Take it,’ they seem to say, encourage, accompanied by a low and rumbling growl.  ‘Take it and show them what you can do.’

He wonders what his sister might think of all this. What she’d do if she could see him, now. Would she urge him on, as Banes did? Chastise his hesitation? Steal it for herself?

The wounded teen pushes himself to his knees. One arm stiffens, holding him upright. The other reaches for the mask. Dark energy crackles and stings his fingertips. He winces, but doesn’t pull away. Praxina saved my life. Maybe she’d have done the same, right now. Mephisto sits back on his heels. He turns the fragment over and puts it on.

They’re celebrating, as he knew they would be. Dazzling enthusiasm oozes like a harmonic pulse around the castle walls: all vibrant, all made up of those same, sickening blues and oranges and pinks.

He hates that color most of all.

With a snarl, Mephisto’s visible eye glares hard at Ephedia’s grand empire. His sister hated the color, too. So bright and cheery and full of nonsensical promises like joy and love and better tomorrows. Does it look like I’m doing better, Iris? Is this what they mean by happily ever after? Dark energy spirals up his ankles, writhing and twisting like snakes.

“Guess we’ll find out.” He mutters darkly, then disappears in a puff of black and green smoke.

Oh, if Praxina could hear the way they gasp his name, she’d finally be proud of him. He stands in the center of the throne room, so different from the shadowy cavern Gramorr had called home. Vibrant. Colorful. Glittering like sunlight through the towering, stained glass windows on either side.

Sickening, all of it.

Mephisto steps forward, hair grown longer swaying in front of his face. His outfit, too, has been altered under this new power: inky black solidified in armor, only color his glowing serpent emblem. They follow him, too, the snakes, looming shadows hovering behind his heels—seamless, colorless, save for their striking green eyes.

“Mephisto…?” Ventures a quivering voice. Head snaps towards the source, but he’s already identified the fool. Pretty-perfect Iris stands in the center of a crowd, hand clutched to her chest and crystal blues nearly bulging from her head. Good, he thinks with a sneer. Be terrified. See how it feels.

“Surprised to see me?” He laughs, a cold, hollow laugh that bounces around the room.  “Don’t be. I know you only care about yourself.”  

“Myself?” Iris echoes, as if she can’t believe he’d dare tarnish her with accusation. On cue, bodyguards blue and orange flank her sides.

“Don’t you say such things about Iris!” Orange—sorry—Auriana cries. Mephisto’s jaw tightens. Black humor jitters and threatens to give. Remember Praxina. He does. If nothing and no one else, he always will.

“Why not.” Mephisto spits, almost hisses. “It’s true, isn’t it?” Gaze darts back to Iris. He raises an arm. His reptilian entourage rear their heads. “You, all of you, so bent on ridding Gramorr from this world; where were you when my sister needed help!”

Blue stiffens now, baring teeth. Before she can speak, the aggressive purple one pipes up. “Are you serious? You’re the ones always terrorizing us!”

“Carissa, don’t.” Warns Iris with an outstretched arm. She reels it back in a moment later.

“I’m really sorry about what happened to Praxina.” Iris says, and it’s with such a sad earnestness he almost believes her. Almost. But he’s been through this before, been down this road and seen the closed door on the other side. There’s no place for truce among them. Not now, not ever.

“Sure you are.” He barks, and now it’s his turn to raise an arm. “You’re so sorry, you threw me a pity-party. Oh wait! No you didn’t.” The serpents dissolve as he speaks; they reappear around the royal family, mouths open and fangs bared. A silent cry of panic circles the crowd.

“Mephisto, stop this!” Auriana again. “You can’t blame us for your sister’s death.” He ignores her, crossing closer.

“I can, and I’m going to.” He growls; as before, it sounds like a hiss. “You’re going to pay for what you did. All of you.” He adds, just in case it weren’t clear. Auriana steps back. Talia stiffens. Then something happens he doesn’t expect. The king places a hand on his daughter’s delicate shoulder. With his other, he draws his sword.

“Stand down, evil one.” He declares; it’s just cliché enough to evoke an inkling of a smirk.

“You really underestimate me.” Mephisto flicks his wrist, summoning a dark cloud around the blade until it’s not a blade, anymore. The king gasps, dropping a newly-formed smoke-colored snake. Mephisto bends his wrist again, and the creature dissolves.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” He explains, bathing in the undivided, utterly terrified attention at his command. That inkling slides further across his face, coaxing and curling his upper lip. “I want you to suffer. And I know just where to start.”

He looks to Iris again, then casts a deliberate glance towards the sky. Three, two, one…

“What…what are you implying?”

Of all incompetent aggravations. “Earth!” Snaps Mephisto, expression souring again. “I’m going to attack Earth.”

If they notice this slip-up they make no indication, too distracted, it appears, by his startling announcement. Of course they are. He’d just sworn revenge against their precious, mortal loved ones. Given them a taste of helplessness. Promised a lifetime of irreparable, haunting grief.

“You can’t do this.” says Talia, fists balled at her sides. Mephisto’s visible eye narrows.

“Just watch me.”

The spindly, snaky forms disperse from the group, merging with the floor until they find their place around him, again. “Heed my warning, princesses. From this point on, the blood is on your hands.”

The final word trails off with that same, feral hissing. With one last, long look, he steps back among his shadowy friends. They follow his lead soon after, compiling together until all that remains is one massive, seamless serpent. Toxic light skitters across its form like lightning; the creature lingers, as Mephisto had done, then barrels forward and through the back wall.

As it does, the ghost of a snarl not its own echoes behind.

He untangles himself some ways away, panting and puffing but grinning like a loon. Or however the earth phrase went. Earth. Mephisto touches his mask. A planet unprotected, ready and waiting for his murderous hand. Our murderous hand. He throws a glance at Banes, seated between two jagged boulders. The old beast flicks its tail.

Praxina really would be proud of him.

[kaitanisb021]

Truth

A rebel captain faces interrogation by the notorious Agent Kallus, but is unprepared for his methods.

Notes:

May contain or imply Season 2/early Season 3 spoilers. Written and posted prior to Season 3: Through Imperial Eyes. May eventually be part of a series of Kallus shorts. Reference to previous series canon violence (i.e., torture, Lasan massacre) (Cross-posted at Archiveofourown.org, TheForce.Net and Fanfiction.net)

Truth

Flanked by four stormtroopers, Captain Ranu was being quick-marched down the hallway of an Imperial administration building, two blasters uncomfortably jabbing into her kidneys. She smiled ruefully. At least they didn’t take it for granted that she would go easily.

The stormtroopers stopped in front of a nondescript door. One pressed the door com.

“Agent Kallus? We have the prisoner.”

Ranu’s heart jumped into her mouth. Agent Kallus, a high-ranking member of the Imperial Security Bureau, was apparently on the other side of that door. Her hands clenched into fists, tightening the binders which secured them in front of her.

Agent Kallus was known to be ruthless. Stories had made it back to the newly-formed rebel alliance. Dark stories. Torture, ruthless murder, genocide. Doing the bidding of the Sith Lord Vader. Working with the cold and clever Grand Admiral Thrawn. And she knew that the ISB was known for effectively…extracting information from captured leaders. She took a deep breath. She felt sick. This was going to be her biggest challenge yet in her near-lifetime of rebellion.

“Enter,” growled the voice on the other side of the door.

The door slid open to reveal a plain office with a window and a desk. A tall man with reddish-blond hair and a closely-cropped beard—no, large sideburns, actually, now that she looked—and dressed in a dark grey and black uniform sat behind the desk, looking at a datapad. His eyes glanced up as the stormtroopers marched her into the room. He stood and walked toward them, searching her face carefully as he approached. He walked with a slight limp, she noticed. But more than that…she had never met him before, and yet he seemed strangely familiar. She saw his eyes widen slightly as he approached, but then his face hardened into an impenetrable mask.

“Thank you, soldiers. You may leave the prisoner here.” He turned to the officer who stood to the side of the three soldiers. “I will call you when I am…done here.” He turned menacingly toward Ranu. Her stomach turned.

“Yes, sir.” The soldiers and the officers saluted briskly and turned to leave the office. She was alone with the agent. Her eyes quickly scanned the room for weapons, for escape routes—anything that could help her in a match with this monster. When her eyes returned to the agent, she noticed he was watching her with a smirk.

“Any luck? Have you found a way out? Or perhaps discovered a clever way to render me senseless while my back is turned?” He snorted derisively. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, rebel,” he growled, turning to walk back to his desk. She noticed he kept one eye on her nonetheless. He was no fool, this man. She had binders on, but she could still fight, and he knew it. But he also knew that she didn’t have a chance of getting anywhere in this imperial facility on her own. There was little on his desk to use as a weapon anyway—nothing but a datapad and a strange, glowing meteorite.

“Nice rock,” she said.

Kallus turned quickly and walked to the desk, placing the rock in a drawer and turning the key with a click. “You aren’t going to smash me over the head with that, rebel. Thank you for the reminder.”

He glanced out the window. “You will find that this office, on the fifth floor of the Imperial Headquarters, is rather unfortunately high for a daring escape. Near the roof, in fact. A floor below your cell, which is an even higher jump—or fall.” His eyes flicked back to her, then away again. “Unless you are hiding a jetpack under your uniform, or have rather more resilient bones than you appear to have at first glance, you aren’t going anywhere, rebel.”

Fifth floor. She followed his gaze out the window at the setting sun and clocked her position. Fifth floor, south side. Cells on the sixth. That would be useful information if she could ever get a message out of here. She was surprised that the Imp let that slip. Sloppy.

He came around from behind the desk and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at her with that searching gaze, eyes narrowed. “So. Let’s get on with this. Name?”

“Ziro,” she spat back defiantly.

Kallus’s eyes widened and, much to her surprise, his head tipped back as he barked out a hearty, genuine laugh. He looked almost boyish for a moment. He met her gaze again, a wide smile on his face for a moment before he controlled his mirth with some effort. “The rebels have a surprisingly rich connection to infamous intergalactic crime families, it seems. Not that I should be surprised. Nonetheless, I have to point out that you are a little….small for a Hutt.” He placed his hand over his mouth, wiping away the smile that was creeping back. “Small. And human. And female, which is rather at odds with our knowledge of Ziro the Hutt. That, and the fact that you are alive.” He chuckled softly and walked away from her, hands clasped behind his back.

Ranu’s face reddened. She did not like being mocked. She narrowed her eyes. “May you burn in the fires of Mustafar, Imp.”

Kallus turned back to her with an unreadable expression on his face. “Although it is not entirely out of the ordinary for the Empire to grant a reasonable prisoner request,” he said, turning to look out the window again, “I am afraid that that particular request will have to go unmet.” In a lower voice, as if to himself, he added, “for today, at any rate.”

He walked back to his desk and pulled out a circular metallic device. “I suppose I’ll have to do this the hard way, then.”

Ranu’s heart started beating faster. “I can withstand your torture, Agent. I will give you nothing.”

Kallus approached her with the band, shaking his head. He looked annoyed and, if possible, bored. “I don’t think torture is really necessary at this stage, is it, Miss Ziro? Torture is a rather….crude approach. And pain is a blunt instrument. I don’t need to use them to get what I want.”

Ranu’s eyes flashed. “That’s pretty rich coming from the Butcher of Lasan.”

Much to Ranu’s surprise, the Agent reacted as if he’d been slapped—for just a moment, before he replaced his expression with a mask of grim impassivity.

She was surprised. In that brief moment, his face had registered hurt, anger, something more.… But why, she wondered, would that comment bother him? It was true—she was sure at least that that story about him was true. Kallus was notorious for having called for the use of T-7 ion disruptors in the genocide on Lasan. She had heard through the grapevine that he had even bragged about it when facing down members of one rebel cell. The rifles were known for having particularly cruel effects on organic life forms, destroying them agonizingly slowly, painfully, and completely. Even the Imperial Senate, not generally known for its sympathy with insurgents and their feelings, had banned their use. But Kallus had employed them mercilessly, and she imagined that despite the Senate’s publicly-expressed hand-wringing, this particular victory had been instrumental in his promotion through the Imperial ranks. So why would this memory leave him so pained? Curious, she thought.

Kallus ran his hand through his hair and met her gaze again. “Ziro,” he mocked, “do you think I rose to my position in the ISB because of my ability to cause pain?” He drew closer, anger reddening the tips of his ears. “I rose to my current position because I am, quite simply, better than anyone else at getting information from those from whom I seek it. Pain is”—his eyes flicked away briefly—“occasionally required”—he met her gaze again with renewed control—“but rarely so.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “You will see what I mean. This,” he raised the band, which he had opened, “is a tool, but it isn’t entirely necessary. It is just convenient and slightly more direct than the low-tech alternative.”

Ranu felt her stomach flip as he snapped the band around her wrist. Was this some sort of torture implement she’d not heard of? Was it going to stab her, or drug her, or….

“It is,” Kallus continued as if she had asked the question aloud, “a biofeedback reader. But one can do the same work with some basic biological knowledge about the species one is interrogating.” He straightened. “Now. Let’s begin.” He glanced at the datapad. “Your name is Captain Ranu. You are a pilot and leader of a rebel cell”—his eyes glanced over the datapad; she could tell that he was looking at different things on the pad, not reading—“now centered on Lothal. Your cell took over as the organizing force there after another rebel cell, consisting of a Jedi, his padawan, a Twi’lek pilot, a Lasat, a Mandalorian and a C-1 series astromech droid, left the system. For the time being. Yes?” He looked searchingly at her face before dropping his eyes back to his datapad and nodding.

“Wrong,” she responded defiantly.

“I think…not,” he replied flatly. He turned the datapad to her. “See this?” He pointed out numbers and readings as he spoke. “The combination of your pulse, your respiration, your temperature and…”—he peered into her eyes – “pupils tell me what I need to know.” He glanced back at the datapad. “You rebels could stand to be a bit better at this sort of thing,” he said, his voice sounding almost disappointed. “Bad information was at the heart of the death of the Republic, and it could be the death of the rebellion.” His face, again, had an unreadable expression. He paused to let his statement sink in. But why in the stars would he be explaining his interrogation strategies to her? She shook her head, confused.

He kept squinting at her eyes. “Oh, and Coruscant was your home, not Lothal. These are the things I know about you, Captain. And you have confirmed them quite helpfully.” He looked back down at his datapad.

Ranu was furious. She intended to give up nothing, and already he knew who she was, what her status was with the rebellion, and where she was from. Nothing much, of course. More than she wanted to give up, but not what was really important. He didn’t know that she came from a moneyed elite family that traced its successes in trade to the time of the Republic, a family that continued as Imperial loyalists from the very start of the Empire, thus keeping their power and position secure. He didn’t know that her older siblings had been shuffled off in their youth, first to the Republic Academy and then to the Imperial Academy on what she assumed was the very planet on which she was standing right now. Her successful siblings were, of course, her mother and father’s pride and joy. She never saw them, could barely remember them; they were sucked quickly into the machinery of the Empire and her parents couldn’t have been happier to see them go into that glory, even if it meant that they were effectively gone forever. Her eyes filled at the loss. And this man didn’t know that she had run away at a perilously young age when her best friend’s family had “disappeared” after criticizing the Empire publicly. She had been on her own since she was a youngling, and found a small band of rebels early. She had shown her dedication quickly, and worked hard to hone her ability to shoot, fight, and fly. She straightened her back unconsciously. She was proud of this history. A history he would never know, if she could help it, and that he certainly would never understand.

“Now,” he said, raising his eyes from his datapad and narrowing them again. “Do you know Commander Sato of the Phoenix Squadron?” He stared at her.

“No,” she said, as impassively as she could.

He looked at his datapad, and then back up to her face. His eyes glanced over her eyes, her face, searchingly, almost desperately. Then his eyes lit up. He looked almost…joyful. Ranu’s anger rose. “You do. You know them. Are you in contact with them?” he asked quickly, his pitch rising. “Can you contact them?”

He knew. Why did he even ask? That blasted wristband, that datapad, those searching eyes. She ignored the strange tone in his voice as she was overcome with shame and self-loathing. He knew. She had broken without being broken. Her treacherous human self had given her away, had given everything away. She was furious with herself. She had expected to grit her teeth against horrible torture. She didn’t expect to be bested by an Imperial bureaucrat with a bracelet and a datapad.

“Karabast,” Ranu mumbled.

Kallus froze, his eyes lighting up with surprise as he met her eyes again. Then, once again, his face was transformed entirely as he laughed another hearty laugh. “Karabast?” he sputtered merrily. “Karabast! What does that even mean?” His laughter was uncontrollable now, tears running down his face. “Oh, Captain. Bless you. Karabast! Karabast!”

Ranu stared at the man. Was he insane? What was happening? She watched, stunned, disbelieving. The hardened Imperial Agent was practically falling over laughing at a joke she had somehow made and didn’t even understand. But he wasn’t mocking her. He was….happy.

Then she looked more carefully at him he tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath and regain control, breaking out into rolling, joyful laughter again. That face….when he laughed, it looked so familiar. She shook her head, trying to reach into her memory…who? Who did he look like? Why did he seem so …

Her mouth dropped open as the realization struck her. Her head spun and she stumbled a step toward him, barely keeping herself upright as the shock of recognition overwhelmed her. Tears rose to her eyes.

“Kal?” she whispered.

He turned and wiped away his tears of laughter. His face looked serious now. Serious but...kind. Searching.

“Ralia?” he said, a wondering smile crossing his now-familiar face. “It is you. I thought…I hoped, when I first saw you….It is you,” he finished. He paused. “You changed your name.”

“And you yours,” she replied quietly, eyes shining.

“It is required of security agents,” he said simply. “I gave myself a name to live up to,” he added wryly, turning away.

“You weren’t so callous when I was young,” she said with a smile. “You always played with me when Mother and Father were busy. And they were always busy.” She looked away, pain crossing her face. “I changed my name, too. So they wouldn’t find me. And,” she said, cocking her eyebrow, “so no one would make the connection to our illustrious family.” Her indignation began to rise as she realized what was before her. Her brother was an ISB Agent. Her sworn enemy, a torturer, a brutal Imperial. How could he?

“Ralia.” He looked back at her, his face serious, almost stern, ignoring her obvious anger. “I needed to know if you knew those in the larger rebellion before I told you anything more. I’m glad it is you. Ralia, I am about to tell you something, but I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”

Ralia’s face hardened. This might be her brother, but she was no fool. He, like her other siblings, was their parents’ pride and joy because he had become a successful Imperial. And he hadn’t done it by playing dolls with his sister.

He approached her and clicked the band off of her wrist and attached it to his own. She looked at him in confusion.

“If I release your binders, Captain, will you promise to give me five minutes before you attempt to kill me?”

She paused. “Yes. I suppose.”

He put his hand on her wrist and stared into her eyes. Then he nodded. “Very well.” He unlocked her binders. She resisted the temptation to sucker-punch her brother in the gut. He handed her the datapad.

“Look at me, and look at the datapad. And ask me a question that you know the answer to.”

Ralia looked at him, puzzled. He nodded to her impatiently.

“OK. Did you grow up in the Imperial capital of Coruscant?” she asked hesitantly.

Kallus looked at her with an expression of mild frustration. “Yes, Ralia, but I could be lying about being your brother. Try something else first to set your default data. Something the answer to which you are more certain.”

Ralia thought. “Are we standing in Imperial Headquarters?

“Yes,” replied Kallus. “Good. Look at the data. Remember it. And did you look in my eyes? Did you note what you saw?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good. Now. Ask me something you know to be false.”

“All right.” She thought for a moment. She didn’t know much about him, but she was certain of a few things. “Did you fail out of the Imperial Academy?”

“Yes.” Ralia looked at his eyes, and examined the datapad. She could see the variations in his biodata that showed her that his response was false.

“A lie. Good,” she replied, warming to the game. “Is the current emperor named Palpatine?”

“Yes.”

“True. Now. Are you trying to trick me?” she asked quickly, her eyes darting to her brother’s.

“No,” he replied simply.

She looked at him, and looked at the data. Nothing suggested he was lying to her. She took a breath, about to ask him another question, when he stepped toward her.

“Now, I will tell you something, Ralia. Listen to me very carefully. Watch me. You don’t need the datapad or the band for this, but use them. It is very important that you have no question about this. Am I understood?” he said.

“Yes, I understand.”

He paused. Then he straightened, and looked into her eyes with deadly seriousness.

“I want to join the rebellion.”

Ralia looked at him, blinking rapidly in disbelief.

“Ralia. RALIA,” he snapped. Then his eyes softened. “Am I telling the truth?”

She looked at her brother searchingly. She glanced at the datapad. She read the signs there, noted all of the clinical data. But she didn’t need it. She could tell in her heart.

Her brother—he had changed. He was coming home to her.

“Yes.”

Brother and sister smiled at each other.

At the truth.