#and suddenly this new tool that's supposed to help you get intentions across appears

[kienium]

i have such a hard time with tone indicators still because i don't know what the fuck i mean either. how am i supposed to fake it until i make it in these conditions

[ikeromantic]

Friends and Frenemies

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2800 words. This scene takes place after the events of the romantic epilogue. Mostly fluff, slightly spicy.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Kitsune's Day Out

Mitsuhide sat on the floor with his little mouse in his lap. His fingers stroked the nape of her neck as he listened intently to Sarutobi.

Sasuke and Miyake sat across from them on the edge of the bed. Miyake’s expression was somewhere between awe and exhaustion. He wasn’t saying much, just staring into empty space with a confused grin.

The ninja looked mildly pleased as he talked. “My professor took a little convincing. We had to call in the history department chair to talk to Miyake.”

“What did he want to know?” The chatelaine’s eyes were heavy with sleep. They’d spent the day walking around Kyoto, looking at historical sites - things Mitsuhide should recognize.

Of course, everything was so changed from his time that the places they visited may as well have been new. Even if they were the same structures, what lay around them had changed so much as to render the buildings and monuments unrecognizable.

Sasuke shrugged. “Details. It was like watching a verbal exam in a master class. And then he made Miyake pick out his own sword from a room of Sengoku period weapons. It was impressive watching him look each one over.”

At this, the warrior chuckled. “I almost didn’t. It was strange to see Kichihiroe looking so old and worn.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “But you did. So all is well.” He turned his attention back to Sasuke. “What is the benefit of bringing these men in on our secret?”

“Well, first off, this.” He handed Miyake and Mitsuhide campus ID cards. “You are both now officially visiting professors, with a stipend and everything. There was a small . . . additional favor they requested from you.”

“Which is?” Mitsuhide raised one eyebrow.

Miyake answered. “They want you to come in and answer questions. A lot of questions.” He wiped his brow. “They started in on me today and there is just no end!”

Sarutobi nodded a confirmation.

“So . . . they want to pay you to answer questions about the Sengoku era? And that’s it? That doesn’t sound so bad.” The chatelaine grinned.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I am not sure it’s so simple. This interaction - couldn’t it cause -” he thought for a moment, trying to find the words. “A complication? If I let slip something they don’t know, or they tell me something that will happen?”

“A paradox.” Sasuke’s mouth curled up in the slightest smile. “I considered that. But we are already living in a parallel timeline. One in which you and Nobunaga live, as well as some other changes.”

“So the things they tell us, those aren’t things that will happen?” Miyake sounded a little tense as he asked the question.

“Right,” Sarutobi replied. “Or, mostly right. We can’t be sure how far apart our timeline is from the original, so I encourage you to forget anything you may hear.”

Mitsuhide snorted. “Once a truth is heard, it cannot be so easily forgotten.”

“True enough. Can’t unring the bell, as they say. But are you willing to take that chance and talk with the history professor anyway?”

“I will.” Mitsuhide stroked his little one’s neck with gentle fingertips. “It will be interesting, regardless. And you have gone to a lot of trouble to arrange things. It’s the least I can do to play along.”

“I appreciate that.” Sasuke gave a little bow. “So what did you two do today?”

Miyake elbowed him and gave the two lovers a knowing wink.

Mitsuhide’s little one blushed and covered her face. “No! Nothing like that! Miyake! We just went shopping. Oh - and there were these men -”

“Who kindly helped me pick up our bags when I dropped them. We were very appreciative.” Mitsuhide interrupted her before she could give away any more information about their run in with the modern day bandits. Not that he didn’t trust Sasuke and Miyake. He did - as much as he trusted anyone. But it was always wise to keep information to yourself until there was a reason to share.

Sasuke blinked. “Ok. Well. Tomorrow, I’d like to take you up to the university, Mitsuhide. If that’s alright. You can both come if you want to.”

“Oh! But I needed to run by the office for my job tomorrow! I wanted to give them my apologies for disappearing so suddenly, just when they offered me a position.” She bit her lip. “I guess it can wait though.”

“I can go with her to do that, if you want me to,” Miyake put in.

Mitsuhide nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. You two can run errands tomorrow while I satisfy the curiosity of some modern scholars.”

“Are you sure?” The chatelaine looked uneasy.

“I am.” Mitsuhide kissed her cheek. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”

After they made arrangements for the coming day, Mitsuhide and his little mouse trekked back to her flat, leaving Miyake and Sasuke to themselves. It wasn’t that he minded the company, but he wanted to have her to himself tonight.

They stopped at a ‘small’ grocery on the way home to pick up something for breakfast. While Mitsuhide had noticed the number of foodstalls, he had not considered an entire store with shelves full of food. He wanted to ask if this was normal, but one look at his little one’s face gave him the answer.

She was not surprised at all. With barely a glance at the stacks of fresh vegetables and fruits, she led him further into the store.

There were at least five types of vinegar, he noted. An assemblage of noodles that defied sense. Several types of rice. Beans. And a variety of things with names he couldn’t identify as food, all wrapped in bright packages. “Masamune would love this place,” Mitsuhide murmured.

“You think? Maybe we should bring him something back.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you thought of him just now.”

“He’s a -” Mitsuhide paused at the realization he was about to say friend. Not ally. Not colleague. Friend. He bit back the word and finished with, “man who loves his food.”

His little mouse didn’t appear to pick up on the omission. “He really is. And he wants everyone around him to enjoy it too.” She picked up a package of rice, then added, “I wish I was such a good cook.”

“I think you’re amazing.” Mitsuhide settled his palm lightly on her low back, reassuring.

She smiled wryly. “Says the man who doesn’t taste his food.”

“Kyubei thinks so too. And his taste buds work fine.”

“Mhmm. Kyubei would eat a pile of rocks and tell me it was delicious if he thought he was supposed to. But I appreciate the compliment.” She leaned against Mitsuhide and sighed. “I wonder how he’s doing right now.”

Mitsuhide considered. There were a number of things he wished he’d had time to tell Kyubei. And of course, he hadn’t counted on Azuchi being attacked but, “I’m sure he is well. Kyubei is resourceful, talented, and I’ve left him the tools he will need. You should worry less about him, and more about yourself.”

“What should I be worried about?”

He grinned and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. With his lips almost touching her ear, he murmured, “You should worry about what I will do if I don’t get you alone soon.”

His little one inhaled sharply, cheeks heating. Her eyes were bright and full of desire as she replied. “Then we’d better hurry.”

They got back to her flat soon after, and unpacked the groceries. With the last items put away, she sat in a kitchen chair and looked up at Mitsuhide shyly.

It never failed to amuse him how innocent she could be in moments like these. As if she couldn’t admit what she wanted no matter how badly she wanted it. Of course, he’d take full advantage.

“How should I use your bath, little mouse? Can you show me how it works?” Mitsuhide already had an idea, but what fun was that?

“Oh! Yes. Sure. It would be good to clean up.” She led him to her small bathing room. “This handle is hot. This one cold. And if you press this, it will activate the shower. Just be careful where you point the nozzle.”

Mitsuhide leaned over her, pressing close. “So this one is hot?” He turned the handle.

“Umm . . . yes but, I should probably . . . get out of the way . . . the bathroom isn’t big enough-”

“And this one is cold?” He turned the other handle.

She nodded. “Yes. So. Ah, first rinse off with . . . with the shower. And . . . and th-then fill . . .”

Her distraction was deeply amusing. Possibly caused by his breath on the back of her neck and the way her hips met his. Not that he was unaffected. The press of her hips against him was maddening. The slight friction of cloth, the denial of skin to skin touch he ached for. But this was his game, and he knew what came next. Delay only made victory all the sweeter. Mitsuhide pressed the shower, and water fell like warm rain over them.

“Mitsuhide!” She gave a little shriek as he pulled her to standing under the flow. Her clothes clung to her skin, revealing as much as they hid. He could not wait to peel them off her.

“Oh dear. What have I done? Now you’re all wet!” He smiled widely and slid his hand under her shirt, popping the buttons open one after another.

She playfully swatted his other hand as he reached for her skirt. “You totally did that on purpose! I know you did!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” Mitsuhide slid her shirt off and enjoyed the sight of water pearling over the rise of her breast. Her soaked bra looked a deeper blue than it had when dry. A good color for her. His hands slipped around behind her, reaching for the clasp.

“You know, if you wanted to bathe together, you could have just said so.”

“Mmm, but this was more fun.” His fingers fumbled with the odd hook-and-eye catches, finally releasing them. Her bra fell away. Mitsuhide relished the sight. “You should probably help me get the rest of these clothes off. I’m fairly certain you don’t bathe wearing them in this age.”

She laughed softly and reached up to cup his cheek. “My wicked kitsune. No. We don’t.” And then she kissed him.

***

Kyubei frowned at the short, dark-haired man in front of him. “You can cut the act, Ranmaru. I’d recognize you anywhere. Besides, your work on that scar is atrocious. Who taught you disguises? Were they blind?”

The page - spy and ninja as well - sighed and set down the basket he was carrying. “I thought the scar was pretty good. It really changes my face. What gave it away?”

“Your fingers are still stained with beetjuice, for one. And you didn’t blend the edges well enough. I can see bits of raw paste at your hairline.”

“Well damn. Alright. You caught me. Are you here to kill me?” Ranmaru’s tone was light, joking, but there was nothing funny about the way his fingers curled around the hilt of the short blade he wore at his hip.

Kyubei rolled his eyes. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead. I came to find out what you know - and how you know it. Are you willing to have a conversation with me?” He left out the alternative, which was knocking the page senseless, dragging him back to Azuchi, and putting him in the dungeon. He wanted to avoid that outcome. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Alright. Fine. But you’re buying us something to eat. I’m starving!”

“I can do that.” He led the page out of the alley they were in - a spot chosen in case things got ugly - and back into a market street. Kyoto was full of people selling things. He had his pick of at least a dozen stalls and shops for food, but made a beeline for one in particular. The proprietor was one of Mitsuhide’s informants, someone Kyubei could trust if this chat went sideways.

The two men sat down at a back table and ordered sake and food. Ranamru’s preference for sweet things had not changed in his absence. They were getting stewed peaches, peaches with rice, and peach-jelly stuffed mochi. Not to Kyubei’s taste at all, but then, he hadn’t come here for the food.

“What do you know about the attack on Azuchi?” Kyubei wasted no time getting to the point.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Would you believe I didn’t know it was going to happen?”

“No.”

The page giggled. It was a high, false sound with no real mirth. “Well, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me either. But I really didn’t know that was coming. I knew something was . . . my - my Master was working with some people. And they were coming to Azuchi so I knew they had something in mind. I thought . . .”

Ranmaru’s throat bobbed, stuck on the words. He looked away and wiped at his face.

Kyubei sighed. “So you weren’t sure what was planned. What did you think might happen? Is that what made you run?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and he hadn’t looked up. “I thought . . . maybe they would try to kill him. Nobunaga. A direct attack. Or, poison? I - I didn’t want . . . but I was . . .”

“You were afraid they might ask for your help. Or participation.” Kyubei’s voice was pitched low, for Ranmaru’s ears only. This was not a subject to be discussed lightly.

The page nodded.

“So you ran.”

He nodded again.

Kyubei rubbed the short growth of hair on the top of his head. It was coming in, full and dark, but it itched some days. Especially after spending time on the road, with no rest. Touching it had become a habit for him when he was anxious or unhappy. This conversation was not making him happy.

“I didn’t want to be the one to - you know. Nobunaga has - he’s always been good to- to me. I thought, let them do their own dirty work. I would g-go back to Kennyo. Offer to be, to do a-anything else.” Ranmaru finally looked up. His expression was one of abject misery.

“I don’t blame you. It can be hard to serve two masters. Even when their goals usually align . . . often the methods do not.”

Ranmaru smiled bleakly. “I guess you understand a little.”

The tea and sweets came, and for a brief few minutes, the two men ate and drank in silence.

Finally, Kyubei asked, “So why aren’t you with Kennyo now?”

“I can’t find him. I know he’s working with . . .” Ranmaru’s jaw clenched. “I can’t say. But, I don’t know where they went. Or what they are planning next.”

“I need you to tell me the names, Ranmaru. Assume that I already know them, and from you, I only need confirmation.”

“Fine. Then you say them. I’ll nod if you’re right.”

Kyubei smiled. “Kicho.”

Nod.

“Motonari.”

Nod.

“The ‘shogun’ in exile.”

Nod.

“I was hoping the last one was a no. We worked so hard to set that boy up, but I suppose Yoshiaki’s allies got to him.” Kyubei took a deep breath. “And you really have no idea what they will do next?” He watched Ranmaru for tell-tale signs of a lie.

“I wish I did. I’d find Kennyo and get him away from those stray dogs.” The page almost spat.

“So what will you do now?”

Ranmaru tugged at his darkened locks, twisting them around his finger. “I don’t know. I am afraid to return to Nobunaga’s side. Afraid they will ask me to betray him. But that makes me a traitor to my Master. I am damned either way.” His voice was flat, empty of self-pity or any other emotion.

“You could work for me.”

The page raised an eyebrow. “You know I turned on both my masters. That I am a coward. What would you trust me with?”

“Well, not disguises, clearly.” Kyubei caught the curl of a slight smile on Ranmaru’s lips. “I’d want you to gather information from the daimyo loyal to the shogun. Nothing to do with either of your masters directly. No need to dig yourself a deeper grave.”

“I’d report everything to the Ikko Ikki too.”

Kyubei shrugged. “I’m fine with that? If Kenny’s monks act on the information, I doubt it will be to prop Ashikaga up further.”

Ranmaru chewed at his lip, thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “I guess I can do that. Just until I find where Kennyo has gone and what he needs of me.”

“Then we have a deal. But I do have one more question before I leave you.”

“What?” The page eyed him, suspicious again.

Kyubei tapped his finger on the table, almost afraid of his own question. Asking it would be giving information away, but he needed to know. “Have you seen or heard from Akechi since the night of the attack on Azuchi?”

Next: Uncomfortable Questions

[isnt-it-loverly]

little birdie//five hargreeves

Warnings: tried a new pov and it did not go well

Summary: When Five lands in the Sparrow Academy, he must convince one of them to help him reset the timeline. 

Word count: 1540

Author note: part two is out find it here

part three, part four, part five

“This is not your home,” Your father spoke, “this is the sparrow academy.” 

You smirked ever so slightly at his words. Your entire life you had been prepared for this, the day that they would come and threaten everything that your family held dear. This was everything that you had worked for. Soon it would all be over, and you would finally have your chance at normal. 

Number five, he had called you. Much like your umbrella counterpart you were deadly. All you had to do was to look into his eyes and he would be yours to control, you’d have all the information you would need to take them down. 

You watched intently as they pleaded with Number One. How curious, you thought. 

You almost felt bad for them, how they whined like little lost children. You couldn’t help but watch their Number Five intently. He was young like you. Instinctively, you pushed up your sunglasses to make sure that they completely covered your eyes, and wondered if his power came with a price too. 

Soon your father called each of you by number. Then tension in the room was thick, and it was easy to see that it made the Umbrellas uncomfortable. They all flinched as their number was called, just as your siblings did. Maybe they weren’t so different from you after all. 

“Number Five!” Your father's voice rang through the air. 

Five took notice of you, as he had for all of his newfound “siblings”. He watched intently as you straightened your jacket, and placed your glasses in the side pocket. Bewilderment took over as he noticed your eyes.  They were such an unnatural shade of blue, deep like the ocean and endless like space. He also took into account your age as well. So young and innocent appearing, but with a number like 5- he knew your looks were deceiving. 

Reginald called you forward and asked you to demonstrate so they could see the academy’s peak potential. 

“Yes, father,” you spoke timidly. The sound was quiet and didn’t carry very far, but yet still obedient and full of determination. Your gaze soon set on him. 

Five felt a cold feeling wash over him and his knees buckle. Crumpling to the ground, he gasped, “What are you doing?”

He couldn’t look away from you no matter how hard he tried. You knelt down and placed a cool 

hand on his cheek. It was soft and gentle, the feeling matched your innocent physique. “This will be over soon, try not to fight it. It will only make it worse,” he heard your voice but no movement or sound came from your lips. That’s when it dawned on him, that you were in his head. 

“No,” he choked. There was an ache in your heart, something about this felt wrong. However, this was always the part you hated most, the fear in their eyes as you took over. 

Fire danced across the rubble of your newfound surroundings, there was nothing but destruction as far as the eye could see. The worst part about it was the fact that you were entirely alone and incredibly scared. The academy was reduced to ash, and crimson stains filled the street. The burgundy jacket you sported was now a navy blue, picking up a shard of glass you see Five’s reflection staring back at you. This is a memory? You look for any signs of life in the rubble, for anyone or anything that might still be clinging on to life. The only thing you found were the lifeless bodies of everyone you loved- no he loved, sometimes the feelings could get confusing. Yet you felt what he felt, everything from the guilt to the regret to the grief. It was the worst you had ever experienced. Taking a shaky breath, you lean against the rubble, biting your lip as hard as you can to distract from the pain this remembrance had caused. 

“Its awful isn’t it?” a voice called. Your heart dropped into your stomach, it was just supposed to be you here. You turned to see Five staring at you. Rendered absolutely speechless you quickly touch your face and realize that your features are your own. This was impossible, he shouldn’t be here. The fact that he had slipped through your grasp angered you beyond means.

“How are you doing this?” You ask through gritted teeth. Five was amused, you had much more spunk when Reginald wasn’t there to control you. 

“I’m not as dense as your average Joe, once I realized what you were doing I knew I had to divert you here before you had full control. I needed you to see this,” he explained. You looked around at your surroundings once again, there wasn’t much to look at other than death and destruction. Why was this the first thing he wanted you to see? He noticed the look of puzzlement on your face and decided that it would be best to take things slowly.  

“Do you have a name?” He asked. He searched your eyes carefully, they were full of confusion, and yet he could tell that you were intrigued. 

“Five,” you answered. “That’s your number, If you’re going to be in my head we might as well get on a first-name basis,” He retorted. 

You looked down solemnly, “That is my name. Father said names made us weak and that they would place divides in us. But when we were kids we used to pretend to have names. I would always choose (Y/n). What about you?” 

“I thought the same thing my-” he cleared his throat, “our father did when I was younger, thought I was above my siblings so I never chose one. I’m just Five, but I think it kinda suits me,” he finished with a small smile. His warm emerald eyes looked at you and your heart melted. They were so sad and you could tell that there were a million stories hiding behind them. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and suddenly all your malice towards him melted away. 

“This what we were trying to stop. The big Dooms Day of 2019, but it appears my family and I have a knack for royally screwing shit up. We apparently got ourselves unadopted,” he explained. Five made his way over to you, cautious to make sure he didn’t frighten you away. You may have not realized it yet, but you could’ve put a stop to this little rendezvous whenever you wanted. He wanted you to listen, no, he needed you to. He sat next to you and pointed to the remains of the academy.  

“That was our home too, I’m sure we had very similar childhoods. The training sessions must have been interesting with you around,” five said light-heartedly. You knew what he was doing, trying to distract you from your purpose. But you liked the company, it was nice to be able to talk to someone outside your family.

“‘My power is very hard to control. When I was a little girl, I could get stuck. I’ve lived a thousand lives, been so many people. That’s why I look so young, while I’m out of body… I don’t age, don’t hunger, never thirsty. Just still like a statue,” you explained. It was too much information, but who was he going to tell. It felt so right to sit with him, and you knew your secrets were safe with him. 

“I got trapped in this hell for forty-five years when I returned to my rightful time- I miscalculated my equations. One decimal off and now I’m going through puberty again,” he said with a sad smile. He looked at you, and suddenly his smile faded. You searched his eyes and they were full of sorrow and regret. 

“I need your help, (Y/n), this timeline is wrong. This could destroy the fabric of reality, everything could cease to exist. My family, yours, the entire world gone. This is the new apocalypse. If we don’t fix this… I’m afraid this may be our future,” Five explained solemnly. You heart welled when he called you by a name, it had been so long since someone had treated you like a person and not a tool for extracting information. You gulped as the information played over in your head again. This is exactly what your father had warned you about, they always brought the end with them. You stood quickly and backed away from the boy. 

“(Y/n) please, you have to believe me,” he pleaded. Before he could say anything else, there was a flash and the warmth rushed into him. He looked up to see you towering over him, sapphire eyes brimming with tears.

“Well Number Five,” Reginald spoke firmly, “what did you learn?”

“He knows something about the apocalypse, I think them being here causes it,” you replied meekly. All your kindness and bravery you showed Five was gone, your father had a way of doing that to people.  

Reginald stood and cleared his throat. His eerie presence loomed over the room and all fell quiet. “Sparrows, kill them,” he instructed. 

[tu-mint]

Amendment

A/N: Sooo I’ve been meaning to share my Mortal Kombat stuff on here for a while, I wanted to wait for the movie to come out first 😅🤣

TW: mentions of torture & sexual assault

In which Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are officially put down and Earthrealm's defenders are able to return home, but Raelynn is stuck in her thoughts, but one of the young Kombatants is able to help her reconsider the negativity in her mind. (Based around MK11 & Aftermath but w/ a twist?)

Raelynn knew this all too well. With her entity as a half god, a change in time would do nothing to erase the horrifying memory in her mind back in the Black Dragon's dungeon -- at least, that's what it felt like. Hours upon hours of nothing but brutal beatings, each kick, punch, and swing as harsh as the last. While it wouldn't have hurt too much being that she was stronger than the average mortal, the bindings fused with the dark power of Shinnok's amulet extracted much of her godlike strength and left her as a helpless bait to be shredded and mauled at by the jaws of vicious and starved predators, desperate to take a leap at the prey before them. It still seemed unbelievable how she was alive even after all the bruises and cuts and blood...but she managed. After all, those shallow wounds were all but nothing comapred to--

The demigoddess shivered involuntarily and inhaled sharply. Thankfully, everyone aboard was too immersed in their own activities to notice her sudden actions, but she knew she wasn't stable enough with where her thoughts were treading. Her eyes searched for her son who was currently speaking in a group of the younger Kombatants. A yellow strip of cloth with an intricate design she couldn't make out was fastened around his bicep, and she wondered where it had come from until her eyes peered at the young male he stood beside. Takeda, son to Kenshi and pupil under Grandmaster Hasashi, was missing the usual yellow band that adorned his head as a reminder to those that he was a member of the Shirai Ryu clan. His short onyx locks blew freely but he didn't seem to mind all that much, instead grinning down at Haru who wore the cloth proudly. Cassie and Jacqui mirrored the telepath's reaction, the blonde pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. The sight warmed her heart and she was thankful the young fighters didn't look upon her son with irritation, but rather genuine care and happiness. When Haru had told her of the adventures and stories spent with them, a pang of guilt struck her for the early misjudgement on her part, believing they were just frivolous juveniles that only gained their high positions due to the status of their families.

Wishing not to allow her brooding to draw unwanted attention, Raelynn slipped silently to the back of the ship. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Raiden who stood near the hull of the ship, but he decided against speaking with her in that moment.

He recalled the time he had found her, bound like a dog and covered in welts and lacerations big and small. She was curled into a ball, shaking and burying her face into her knees. It was then Raiden became aware of the state of her clothing, torn and barely covering her form as if someone intentionally ripped and pulled at it to expose more of her. Immediately he slipped out of his own robe and pulled it across her trembling form, respectfully averting his eyes. As he helped Raelynn stand to her feet, his eyes widened as countless more bruises and marks made themselves visible, tiny splotches of smooth brown skin barely surviving. These people had clearly put her through a very long, thorough beating, and it was evident that they were in no means hoping to show mercy. No, they wanted her dead. Raiden had teleported into the SF ship and rushed her to the infirmary room. People cleared the way immediately and knew better than to question his sudden appearance as he brushed past them while carrying the barely conscious woman to a bed near the back. He knew the Kombatants would be able to handle themselves well, so he stayed and began the healing process.

It was during this time he realized that Raelynn was no mere mortal, but a half god created by the hands of Cetrion. While it was difficult at first for him to fully trust her said intentions due to her creator's betrayal upon the Elder Gods, he had seen her heart's purity during the mission. The thunder god knew that she was making the best of efforts to redeem herself of past mistakes, and Liu Kang recognized this as well. A twinge of concern fell upon him just then as he knew that she still had much she needed to recover from. Whether she would eventually open up to him or not didn't matter, he would be patient and assist her as best as he could.

Raelynn took a seat upon the thick wooden rail and swung her legs over to face the bloody depths of Netherrealm's ocean. She wasn't afraid of falling nor coming across any odd sea creatures knowing that she had flying abilities, but of course she also wasn't dumb enough to try and test her strength or reflexes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked on at the overlapping waves, allowing her mind to space out and roam. Her fingers tapped on the rail in a rhythmic pattern, and she suddenly was reminded of something. Her hands came together and moved in a circular motion, stretching further until the form of her solar powers had become a guitar. She clutched the neck and hugged the body of the instrument under her other arm smiling to herself.

Upon visiting the islands of the Pacific in the past, she had learned about the aspect of music through vocals and tools that produced a pleasant audio. The demigoddess found that these brought her a sense of peace and tranquility, and immediately she wanted to learn the ways of this fascinating revelation. What came as an interest to her in the beauty of music was the endless techniques for a new sound, new sensations, new reactions, and day by day, there was always the creation or discovery of another. She allowed her fingers to delicately pluck and strum a mix of chords, a tingle settling in her chest at the euphoria beginning to wash over her. Her hands moved on their own accord, finding a steady tempo and following a pattern with an occasional switch. The nerves that built up in the pit of her stomach had eventually disappeared into wisps of nothingness. Her eyes began to slowly close and she hummed quietly wanting no attention to be drawn to the back of the ship. It seemed to work decently, until-

"Wow, you're part god and a singer? Gotta say I'm definitely jealous."

The woman’s fingers froze in place already in position to strum a new chord. She craned her neck just enough to glance over her shoulder at the intruder, already knowing it who it was. “My life is nothing to be envious of, Specialist Briggs.”

Raelynn heard footsteps tread closer and tapped on her guitar. The younger woman climbed onto the rail and threw a leg over the other. They sat for a moment in silence, staring off at the deep scarlet waters swishing and rolling about. “I owe you an apology, Specialist.”

Jacqui’s eyebrow quirked and her eyes fell upon the half god. Raelynn took her silence as a sign to continue. “I apologize for my behavior towards you and your friends throughout most of the mission. Even after I had caused harm upon your lives and nearly killed your fiancé, you still ensured trust in me. That I could never understand, but-"

"It wasn't easy." The half goddess shifted her attention to the soldier. Her face was impassive as she watched the waves. Raelynn couldn't tell if her expression was a good or bad thing, but she decided against trying to get her hopes up. A great deal (if not all) of her acts under Cetrion were cruel and groundless, and she held no anguish up until the time she had to come face to face with the truth of her doings. It tore her day and night, and meeting Hajoon had her convinced that she would be able to leave the life of corruption far behind and start fresh. Of course, the facts couldn't be hidden forever, and the half goddess found herself back in the deep hole of falsehood, surrounded with nothing but fabricated offers to a better life. She scoffed mentally. That opportunity was officially closed off to her. It seemed as though disaster was always a few steps away, eager to ruin her chances at something sound, and risking it a third time was nowhere near appealing.

"There were many instances where I questioned why the Chosen One defended you to such an extent, especially after it was SF that provided for your recovery." Jacqui's voice had brought her out of her thoughts. "Trust me, I was beyond ready to blast a hole or two through your head a hell lot of times." She paused. "But spending time with Haru and hearing your whole deal...I understood you." Raelynn's brows raised slightly, not expecting such a considerate response.

"I couldn't imagine a life finding out that the one who was supposed to be my caretaker, my protector, my safe haven, was actually the one who robbed me of all that. My mother..." Her words trailed off and she peered down into her lap. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip to keep from releasing the tears awaiting just behind her eyes. Raelynn almost reached her hand out in an effort of comfort but stopped, not wanting to ruin the intimacy in the moment. Jacqui lifted her head and continued. "Man, it would kill me if she'd ever done something like that...growing up believing that everything was all good and sweet, and everyone just hated her for doing what I thought was the right thing, thinkin' it was my own folks who were the crooks trynna steal me away and take my power from me..." She scoffed. "Seein' my dad as a revenant then manipulated by Kronika was betrayal enough, and it hurt like hell. Point is, I realized that you truly had no malice in you. You were just takin' orders and tryin' to keep your mother—uh, Cetrion, happy."

And it was true. Raelynn trusted completely in the virtue goddess as any child would their guardian. She worked vigorously in carrying out the Elder Goddess' wishes, longing to eventually gain any sort of praise or affection, but it was rare that those occurrences came to past. Most of her upbringing revolved around unanswered questions and the constant urge to do better, trying at all costs to win approval. But like a fool, she allowed her heart to get the best of her, put her through the worst of hells just to seek out a foolish desire that would never be anything close to genuine. That's what messed her up in the first place, and she couldn't—no, would not dare to do something as stupid as that again. It was only her and Haru. Nobody else.

"I am...appreciative of your understanding, Ms. Briggs," Raelynn spoke after a long moment of silence. "You and your comrades are owed a huge debt on my behalf."

Jacqui chuckled and shook her head, then turned to look at the demigoddess. "You're damn right we are!" The two women shared a laugh on the rail. "Actually, I believe there is a way to pay back this debt."

"How so?"

"Well, Takeda and I's wedding was put on pause due to this whole mission, and it cost a lot to find decent live music. Cassie offered, but we're trying to have a simple proper wedding, not a drunk karaoke session. And you have the voice of an angel—well, a god in your case. If you can strum a few chords and sing a few notes for a few hours, I'll consider you free of deficit."

Raelynn cocked her head and raised a brow. "That's...that's all?" She figured the woman would request of something more extravagant, like a prolonged lifespan or giving her supernatural abilities. Jaqui nodded and crossed her arms awaiting an answer.

"I...very well, Ms. Br-"

"Jacqui. That formality stuff is weird if it's not comin' from General Blade." The demigoddess was taken by surprise again. She gave a single nod and looked on at the waves which now fell into to a more mellow and calm pattern.

Perhaps it wasn't just Haru and her against the world. Every person aboard had their story, their differences, their fall outs, but they were able to cast it all aside at an effort for peace upon a world that did almost nothing for them in return. Some aspects of the Earthrealm were odd, she thought. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to these people, but maybe, just maybe...

There was a sense of hope.

[worlds-smallestviolin]

Petty Revenge pt1

Note: I started playing Mozart's route, and boy, does he know how to push my buttons (I know I'll probably fall for him eventually, though). MC being her sweet and innocent self, is all like "I'll get him to like me", while I just wish I could punch him. So it got me thinking: what if instead of forgiving ball of sunshine, our MC was someone who was not above messing with the boys to get some payback. Also, let me know in comments if you’d like a part 2.

Mozart:

Traveling through time to 19th century, only to find herself trapped in a mansion full of prominent historical figures, who also happen to be vampires, MC was not exactly having a good time.

Well, seeing as there was no going home for a whole month, she offered her help around the mansion, which is how she came to be responsible for delivering a breakfast next morning to one Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, AKA His Royal Rudeness.He used every opportunity to remind her how annoyed he was that she was even here, which is something she had no control over.

After exhausting all her energy on trying to talk to him only to get showered with insults, she finally gives up. If he wants to hate her, she will give him a good reason for that.

The hardest part was finding the right moment to carry out her plan. He rarely left the mansion and spent most of his time in the music room. Finally, after being asked by le Comte, he leaves one night to perform at the ball. She picks up tools that she managed to “borrow” without Sebastian noticing, and with a smile on her face heads to the music room.

Next morning, after setting down his cup of coffee and music sheets, Mozart sat down in front of his piano, only for the bench to let out a laud creak. He froze up, then moved slightly, as if to make sure that really happened. And sure enough, there was that sound again.

Not wanting to deal with it at the moment, he tried playing while sitting stiff as a board, making sure to only move his hands, but even that was followed by that annoying noise, so he marched out of room, frustration written all over his face.

He got Leonardo to fix it for him, only for the bench to start creaking again a few days later. He found himself in a never-ending cycle, fix the problem, only to have it reappear, sometimes even later the same day. One day, he stormed out of music room, red faced and eyebrows scrunched up with anger, and went to the town to buy a new one, hoping to finally put the matter to rest. It didn’t work.

Maybe it’s telling you that you’re fat attitude should go on a diet. MC stood at the door, gazing at Mozart leaning defeated over piano. He turns, seeing her smirk, realization finally dawns on him. But as she walks away, he simply stands there, mouth open, having to many things to say, but being too exhausted to voice them.

Theo:

She didn’t think that he ever used her name, sometimes she doubted that he even knew it. No, to him she was Hondje, a dog. And when he wasn’t busy calling her one, he was busy comparing her or treating her as one. That he claimed to like dogs did little to make her feel okay with it.

No amount of polite asking did anything to change this. Fine. There were other ways to get the message across. It was Sebastian who gave her a perfect idea, letting her know an interesting little detail about Theo. Honestly, the amount of information that guy had on the residents was frightening.

It was a long day for Theo. After spending it running across town, selling paintings, trying to butter up stuck up nobles, and then getting into a fight with those assholes from L’ Academie, he was really looking forward to seeing his bed.

After he checked up on Vincent, who was still painting despite the late hour, he headed to his room, only to run into MC in hallway. Hondje, you’re still up? He expected her to pout, as she always does when he calls her that, but instead she greets him with a smile. Just finished my chores. I was on my way to my room. And as she passed by him, her smile growing even bigger, she adds Good Night, Theo. Something in the tone of her voice told him she was up to something, but he was too tired to deal with it tonight.

Finally arriving at his door, he opens them, light from the hallway spilling into his room, and he freezes. It’s a miracle how he managed not to let out a scream, or how he was even able to lift his hand and pinch his cheek to insure that what he was seeing was real.

His room was filled with cats. Not a cat, which was terrifying enough. Cats. Ten, he thinks, though it’s difficult to count them due to them jumping all over the place.

Somehow managing to close the door, he practically runs back to Vincent’s room. He grabs him by the sleeve, like a little boy, and stuttering explains to his brother what’s wrong. Vincent enlisted Arthur to help, and between the two of them, they soon got all the cats out into the garden.

After he cautiously walked into his room, Theo found a note on his bed. 

Just letting you know, I’m more of a cat person.

Arthur:

To put it simply, Arthur was a walking, talking, breathing sexual harassment. MC could deal with his flirting; him trying to bite her, however, was another matter entirely. He gave her some kind of apology, saying how he did it because he wanted to warn her about vampires, because words are apparently overrated. 

He continued to flirt, seemingly unaware of what personal space means, and well, it was quite exhausting. She wanted to punch him so many times, but she knew that would do little to solve the problem, it might even encourage him.

Watching his interaction with Dazai, who seems to be the only person capable of getting under his skin, gave her an idea, something very simple.

Arthur was heading to the library, intent on doing some research for the book he was working on; only to find it occupied by one very pretty skirt. She had her head in the book and didn’t appear to have noticed him walk in.

Smirk on his face, he slowly approached her, already picturing her little gasp of surprise that was sure to be followed by a glare, as he set next to her and threw his arm around her shoulder. But her reaction wasn’t what he expected, in fact there was no reaction, she simply turned her head and looked at him. 

He was taken aback for a second, but than flirt mode was back on. He went on and on, teasing her and complimenting her, yet she didn’t blush or said anything. She just kept looking at him, eyes narrowed in concentration, as if she forgot something, and was trying hard to remember it. Noticing this, he too fell silent, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Suddenly, her eyes went wide, she snapped her fingers, smile appearing on her face. It’s Sherlock, right? I’m sorry, I’m not very good with names. 

From then on every time he talked to her, she referred to him as Sherlock or that guy who wrote Sherlock. To make matters worse, Dazai joined in on the game.

Sebastian:

He is a perfectionist and very strict, understandable considering his occupation. She didn’t mind that; after all she volunteered to help around the mansion, which quickly proved to be a not so easy task. She understood that she needed to learn the ropes as quickly as possible, otherwise she’d just make things more difficult for Sebastian, so his constructive criticism didn’t bother her too much.

What did bother her, however, was his passive-aggressiveness. He would always make some snide remark, delivering it in a way that left her unable to reply lest she end up being the rude one. Add to that his habit of flicking her forehead, as if she was a little child, and well... He had it coming.

 So one night, after diner she was volunteered into cleaning up the kitchen by herself, after being flicked again, because a single spoon wasn’t polished to Sebastian’s standards.

 The next morning, Sebastian walked into the kitchen, part of him expecting to find something out of the ordinary, after all we are talking about MC. The kitchen was spotless and nothing appeared to be unusual, at least not at first glance. Feeling relieved, he went on to start preparing breakfast and make coffee for the residents.

He opened the first cupboard to take out coffee cups, and stared at it in shock. Gone were the cups, as well as all glasses that were supposed to be there as well. Instead he was greeted by plates that should be in a different cabinet. And not only were they misplaced, they were stacked completely out of order, piled in one disorganized mess, rim soup bowl on top of a salad plate, on top of a dinner plate, on top of a bread and butter plate, and so on.

He proceeded to the other cupboards and drawers, his horror growing with each one opened. He found saucers in the drawer where utensils were supposed to be, cups and glasses where plates used to be kept, spoons, forks and knives all mixed together, frying pans, cooking pots, spices, all piled in one giant nightmare.

It is a miracle how he managed not to have a heart attack. He started pacing, hands running through his hair in frustration, desperate to figure out how to begin putting kitchen back in order. It was at this point that MC walked in with a cheery Good morning!, soon to be followed by the rest of the residents.

What happened here?, asked le Comte. Looks like Sebas loves cleaning so much, he does it in his sleep, only not as successfully as when awake, MC said, and before he could deny it, the boys were already cracking jokes about it, while he was left desperate to try and maintain his cool.

Later she was left alone to clean up her mess, which was fine, she wasn’t trying to make Sebastian’s job more difficult, she simply wanted to get a reaction out of him. She paused for a moment to rub a red mark on her forehead. He flicked her so hard, she was sure her brain did a flip. Worth it, she grinned, Wait until he finds out I changed the order of keys on his key chain.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

Chapter 13

******

The tool in your hand hums just barely as it melts the metals together, effectively sealing the band to the watch face. You slide it over to cool beside the others.

Across from you, Tony assembles the suits, synthesizing it with the nanotech. Schematics of Scott’s Ant-Man suit hover above the table alongside one of Rocket and Nebula’s space suits.

Just a few hours ago everyone gathered to speak with Tony and came up with an actual plan. It included gathering a team, as it usually does. 

The beginnings of the team were easy to pull together. One simple call from Natasha had Rocket and Nebula flying back to earth in a couple hours, followed by Rhodey who had to finish up some business. She couldn’t reach Carol through normal communications, instead using the advanced pager they found from Fury years ago, she’d yet to show up. 

From there, they got the run down of the plan and their current assignments. Rocket and Bruce were tasked with going to get Thor. Rhodey had also informed you and Natasha of Clint’s future whereabouts.

The man was headed to Tokyo, hunting down a prominent member of the Yakuza.

You’d been ready to go with Natasha but she told you she had to bring him in alone. Despite your worry, you trust her, and let her go get her best friend.

Steve, Scott, and Rhodey were somewhere around here, no doubt hashing out more details of the plan. And Nebula was all over, occasionally stopping by to offer help to you and Tony. You were impressed with her knowledge of the tech and listened intently to the tips she gave.

Right now though, she isn’t around. 

Led Zeppelin blares from the speakers above, setting the lab in a familiar work environment. If it weren’t Tony you’d have complained about it, with him you don’t mind. 

While the two of you chat on and off, you actively avoid speaking about the Time Heist. Focusing instead on your separate projects or your families. 

Tony rolls his eyes as he mentions Morgan still wanting to play superheroes and Pepper wanting your red velvet cupcake recipe. 

As normal as the conversation is, it makes you wonder about the outcome of this whole thing. 

You’d yet to have children with the woman you love and while she makes up your family, there’s still the want of children, which could possibly not happen. Nothing is set in stone but the fear is there.

Tony suddenly pushes himself away from the suits,“ I’m gonna need some more coffee, these four can be linked to the watches. You want some more coffee?”

Shaking your head, you watch Tony leave out, before focusing back on the work. By the time you’re finished, six of the eleven suits are ready. You make sure the nanotech is secured in the watches. 

Needing Tony to finish the last five before you can finish the watches, you leave out the lab. 

Walking through the compound, you notice the added presences. Thor who doesn’t look so well and Clint. He looks different from the pictures you’d seen. Apart from the new haircut, the exhaustion and pain is clearly written on his face. 

The God of Thunder, noticing your appearance, exclaims your name. His heavy set form staggers over to you, crumbs sit in his beard along with droplets of beer.

“Hey pal.” You reciprocate his one armed hug, making sure his mess doesn’t transfer to your body.

“Ah, it-it’s so good to see you old friend. Join me in the kitchen for a drink.” He slurs.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there buddy. Drink a water in the mean time.” You instruct.

His mumble of something Vodka related doesn’t miss you but you don’t react, instead shaking your head, and focusing on the shorter brunette man that approaches. 

Clint stops in front of you, eyes scanning your form, before settling on your eyes as he speaks,“ you must be Y/N.”

“That I am. Pleasure to meet you Clint, Tasha speaks highly of you.” He shakes the hand you’ve offered.

“Nat’s told me a bit about you as well.” There’s a brief pause,“ I’m glad she’s found someone. Thank you for making her happy.”

You smile softly, warmed at the obvious love he has for Natasha. He’s hurting but still has enough care in himself to be happy for Natasha. 

“Speaking of, you know where she disappeared to?” Eyes search the vicinity for her red hair.

“No, she didn’t say and I didn’t see her.”

With a nod, you excuse yourself and head off to find her. You check the most obvious spots: her office, the training room, and your shared room. Not finding her there, you check her room.

Quiet sniffles hit your ears on entry. Instantly going into “wife” mode, you look to comfort her. 

She’s leaning over the bathroom sink, face buried in her hands, as her shoulders shake with her cries.

“Tasha, love what’s wrong?” You ask, stopping at the bathroom doorway, noticing her freeze up.

No reply comes for a moment, only for her to move toward you and wrap her arms around you. You instantly return the embrace, holding her close in hopes of making her feel better.

Whatever she mumbles into your shoulder, you don’t hear it.

“Gonna need you to speak up baby.” You whisper quietly. 

“Don’t hate me.” She speaks up, though it’s still muffled.

“We need to go through a hell of a lot of shit before I could even consider disliking you. Hating you sounds impossible.” You reassure her.“ Why would I?”

She pulls away from you, walking around you, and back into the bedroom. E/C eyes follow her movements, taking in the nervous wring of her fingers, and her nibbling on her bottom lip.

“I should’ve told you sooner. I forgot myself.”

“I’d love to know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m pregnant.” She sighs, eyes trained on the floor.

Her words circle the room, getting louder, before entering your ears, and then settling in your brain. 

She’s pregnant.

There’s a baby inside of her.

Your wife is having a baby. 

Your baby.

By the time you’re ready to reply, tears are rolling down her face, dropping off her cheeks to the floor. 

Stepping closer to her, you gently grasp her hands in yours,“ you’re pregnant?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes when she sees the pure euphoria written in yours. She frowns,“ yes.”

“We’re gonna be parents?”

Despite her confirming it multiple times you’re still in shock.

“We are.”

A shriek leaves her lips as you pull her into another hug. Spinning her around excitedly, before setting her down, and peppering kisses all over her face and neck.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. 

“Wait, when did you find out? When did you even have the procedure? Are they healthy?”

She chuckles, still a little confused,“ I went to see the doctor before we got back. I got the procedure about two months ago. And yes, they are very healthy. She said that at nine weeks they already have little hands and little feet and they’re developing toes and fingers.”

The more she spoke about the baby the harder it was to hold back the tears. By the time she’s done, they’re cascading down your cheeks.

“You’re happy about this?” She asks after you’re brief silence.

“God, of course I am.” You pull her into a kiss, certain that your love and excitement pours through it,“ I love you so much, you are my world Tasha. How could I be anything but happy about you being pregnant with our child.”

You kiss again, initiated by her. She mumbles that she loves you over and over after each kiss. 

Before she can even allow another apology to leave, you’re kneeling in front of her. As slowly and gently as ever, you raise the bottom of her shirt.

How could you not have noticed? You’ve seen her body more times than you can count, yet you missed the slight bump growing at her abdomen. And now that you know all the signs are obvious. 

The random disappearance? She went to see Tony and the doctor for the procedure. Only eating peanut butter sandwiches and ice cream? Cravings. Sleeping longer and still being so tired along with all the mood swings? The pregnancy. 

“I can’t wait to meet you little one.” Natasha had seen how soft and loving you could be with her. This was completely new.“ I’m going to do everything that I can to make sure I’m the mom that you deserve. I’ve known about you all of five minutes and I’m so ready to give you the world.” 

You feel Natasha’s fingers comb through your hair as you press a kiss on the growing bump. 

She genuinely believed you’d be angry at her for keeping it from you. She knew the procedure worked months ago but couldn’t bring herself to tell you. Why? She was simply scared.

Despite having talked about children with you, her anxiousness of the news ate at her until she’d decided to keep quiet at the time. 

On the flight home she’d mentioned it to Clint and her best friend wasted no time in telling her she needed to confirm it and tell you. 

Looking at you now, the way happy tears fill your eyes and the way you’re smiling like she’s given you the world, she wishes she’d told you sooner. 

‘Miss Y/L/N, Mister Stark has requested your help in the lab’

You nearly groan at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s announcement in the room. 

Slowly rising to your feet, you cup Natasha’s face in your hands, and place a kiss on her soft lips.

With a promise to continue talking later, you both leave out. Natasha goes to find Clint and you head to the lab with Tony. 

Together you both finish up the suits and the watches, then go to help Bruce and Rocket finish the traveling platform. You pass by Thor who’s opening yet another can of beer and spilling it all over the floor and himself.

You hate that his depression led him to drinking but that’s something to be addressed when the fate of the Universe isn’t at precedents. 

While Tony finishes up with Rocket, you take a time suit to Scott. He’s supposed to be testing it. The suit uses the Pym Particles to shrink the user to atomic size in order to travel through the Quantum Realm, using the watch as a gps to navigate when and where to go. 

Scott steps away to put it on and you chat with Bruce about what’s about to happen.

“Are we sure we trust this imbecile to do this properly?” Nebula asks bluntly.

You laugh and shrug,“ he’s the only one that’s done this before so,” your sentence trails off.

When Scott comes back, Rhodey comes in,“ time travel suit? Not bad.” He nods approvingly.

“Hey, hey, hey!” All eyes fall to Scott whose looking at Bruce bewildered,“ easy, easy!

“I'm being very careful.” Bruce replies.

Shaking his head, Scott argues,“ no, you're being very Hulky.”

Offendedly, Bruce exclaims,“ I'm being careful.” 

“These are Pym Particles, alright?” Scott waves the red vial around,“ and ever since Hank Pym got snapped out of existence, this is it. This is what we have. We're not making any more.”

You all frown at the obviously frazzled man. Rhodey tells him to calm down.

“Sorry.” He takes a deep breath.“ We've got enough for one round trip each. That's it. No do-overs. Plus two test runs.” 

In the blink of an eye he shrinks down and then resizes,“ one test run.” 

He nods, then admitting that he isn’t ready to do this. Only for all your eyes to snap over to Clint who volunteers.

Figuring it’s better than Scott, and seeing as no one else offers, you all wait for Clint to change into the time suit.

Once he’s done Bruce explains some things to him. And Rhodey butts in, offering a plan.

“If we can do this, you know, go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos, you know, and-” He demonstrates choking him out.

You shrug at the suggestion. It’s not the worst idea but it wouldn’t work.

“First off that’s horrible,” Bruce starts.

Rhodey argues that it’s Thanos.

“Nice thought, but that’s not how it works. Killing Thanos in the past won’t reverse what he did to our present.” 

Bruce nods along with what you say, pointing a finger at you to make his agreement clear.

“Look, we go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them. Thanos doesn't have the stones. Problem solved.” Scott explains as if that makes perfect sense.

“Bingo.” Clint agrees.

Nebula looks at him,“ that's not how it works.”

He frowns,“ well, that's what I heard.”

When Bruce asks by who, Scott and Rhodey list off a number of movies about time travel. 

It amazes you that these guys manage to chip away at your faith in this so easily with their lack of knowledge. Not even lack of, just misconception.

“Those are all movies. Fiction.” You roll your eyes.

Bruce shakes his head, then explaining,“ if you travel to the past, that past becomes your future. And your former present becomes the past. Which can't now be changed by your new future.”

“Right.” You say as Nebula says,“ exactly.”

Clint mumbles about it all being bullshit and you just sigh and walk away. 

Everyone is gathered around the platform, preparing for the test run. You nod to Steve and Tony, going to stand beside Natasha as the rest of the team comes out. 

Clint steps up to the middle of the platform and Bruce stands in front of the control panel.

Finally being ready, Bruce gives Clint a count down. The man shrinks away, you all wait a minute, before he comes back. 

He drops to one knee and Natasha rushes over.

They speak quietly for a second and then Clint stands.“ It worked.” He speaks louder, tossing a baseball glove to Tony.

Steve nods,“ alright everybody, we’ll reconvene later to talk about the stones.”

******

Taglist: @thelastavenger-3000 @aaron-despair @messuhp @izalesbean @bvb-bk @username23345 @sighsam @confusinggemini612 @natasha-danvers @rileigh519 @higherfurther-romanova @dynnealberto

[haberdashing]

Biting Your Own Neck (7/?)

Mid-season 2, Jon’s life is abruptly upended by the intrusion of two unexpected and eerily familiar visitors.

on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Jon assumed it was either Tim or Martin sighing, though the sigh stopped before he could redirect his gaze to either of them to be certain; either way, though it appeared directed against Jon’s own words more than anything else, Jon couldn’t say he entirely disagreed with the sentiment. It had been a long day already, and it was still only the middle of the afternoon, with plenty of time for more surprises to lurk just around the corner.

“There’s got to be something that’ll prove what they’re saying is true.” Martin eventually said. “At least hypothetically, or else you’re just being paranoid for no reason.”

“Not like that’d be anything new.” Tim muttered under his breath.

Jon thought for a moment. Now that Martin mentioned it, he didn’t have any concrete ideas for how Jonny and Kay could prove that they really were versions of Jon and Martin rather than shapeshifters out to steal their identity or some such, but Jon could see the merit in Martin’s argument just the same. But if it was more evidence he needed...

“They left their bags with us. We could look at what’s in there, see if the contents make their true identity any clearer.”

Jon had expected Martin to jump at the idea, but instead he looked as uncomfortable as ever. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Didn’t they say not to do that?”

“They didn’t, actually. All they said was that they thought their bags would be safe here.”

“While talking about us like we weren’t even here,” Tim added, “Which was really rather rude of them.”

Martin visibly deflated as he let out a long breath that fell just short of a proper sigh. “It’s still an invasion of privacy.”

“Can’t be as bad as stalking someone’s flat.” Tim said with a meaningful look at Jon; Jon, for his part, tried and failed to convince himself that Tim was referring to what Martin had been doing when he’d first encountered Jane Prentiss.

“And if it helps settle any suspicions, it’ll be well worth it.” Jon cleared his throat as he stood up and took a few steps towards the bags in question. “They probably won’t even know it happened so long as we’re careful about it.”

Martin still looked unconvinced, eyes wide and face pale, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Alright then. So long as you’re sure.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far, but I’m willing to take the blame if if comes to that.”

“The least you could do.” Tim said in a voice low enough that Jon wasn’t actually sure he was meant to hear it.

Tim and Jon stood up almost in unison, with Martin only a step or two behind as the three of them approached Jonny and Kay’s bags, two stuffed and grimy-looking backpacks that both looked entirely unfamiliar to Jon. (If they really were from the future, well, Jon must not have bought that particular backpack yet.)

“Should we pick one to go through first? Either of you have a preference?”

Jon and Martin looked at one another for a moment before shaking their heads.

“I don’t recognize them, so I wouldn’t know which one was ‘mine’ to begin with.” Jon said.

“...yeah, same here. Guess we can just pick one at random.”

A moment of indecision, and then Tim grabbed the closer of the two, a backpack which looked to be a musty green underneath all of its grime. Just unzipping the thing was enough to send a bit of unpleasant-looking dust out into the rest of the Archives, and Jon had to stifle a cough.

“Oh, this has to be Jon’s- well, future Jon’s, anyway.”

“Jonny’s.” Jon corrected before shaking his head a bit as the words sank in. “What makes you say that?”

Tim shoved the backpack Jon’s way. “Just take a look.”

Jon did so, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little as the reason behind Tim’s certainty about the backpack’s ownership became clear. A tape recorder was sitting near the top, and about a dozen cassette tapes were crammed into the backpack, threatening to spill out if it were unzipped any further.

“You know, I still don’t exactly like tape recorders.”

“Doesn’t stop you from using them, though.”

Jon made a noncommittal grunt in response as he looked through the other contents of Jonny’s backpack. There were a handful of loose pieces of papers seemingly thrown in there at random; at a glance, Jon didn’t know what they were or what their purpose might be, but they might be worth a closer look later. The backpack also contained, among other things, a small torch, a roll of duct tape, matches, a whistle, and several safety pins scattered across the bottom.

“On to Mart- er, Kay’s now?”

A few nods of agreement, and they moved on.

Some of the contents of Kay’s backpack weren’t terribly surprising: a thin blanket, a handful of teabags, another whistle and torch. Some weren’t outrageous, but made Jonny wonder what spurred on their inclusion: a long thread of rope, a crowbar, several maps of what looked to be the entirety of Great Britain with an X in northern Scotland and London circled.

(There was one notebook that Martin grabbed immediately and refused to let the other two look at, even after Jon confessed that he’d read Martin’s poetry before, that it couldn’t have gotten much worse in the future.)

And then...

“Martin, why the hell do you have so many knives?”

“What?” Martin inched closer as Tim brought the offending knives out of Kay’s backpack. “Oh, that’s- the way you said that, I thought it’d be more than that.”

“What d’you mean? That’s a lot of knives for someone to carry around!”

“Three knives isn’t that many, really! And the one’s a Swiss army knife, a, a multitool, that barely even counts as a knife-”

Tim held up the knife in question, extending its blade, which was admittedly fairly small. “But it is still a knife, you know, legally speaking-”

“I didn’t think we were speaking legally, just look how thick that handle is, there’s got to be loads of other tools in there-”

Jon cleared his throat, mostly in order to get Tim and Martin’s attention and stop their argument in the making. “What do the other two knives look like, then?”

“Well, this one’s a bit bigger, and it’s clearly not a multitool-”

“...I think I recognize that one, actually. From when I carried around a knife for a bit. Looks like the same knife.”

Tim squinted at Martin. “Since when did you carry around a knife?”

“Since Prentiss attacked me! Thought it’d be good to get worms out, at least until I came up with the corkscrew idea. Never had to use it, thankfully, but...”

Tim let out an exaggerated shudder. “Lovely.”

“And I thought the corkscrew was bad...” It was only too easy for Jon to picture that knife being thrust into his skin, being stabbed to remove the worms burrowing their way inside of him, his flesh being cut up like a piece of meat... no, all things considered, the corkscrew was the lesser evil there.

“Don’t suppose you recognize the other one, then?”

This knife was big, even by non-portable knife standards, Jon was pretty sure. A butcher’s knife, perhaps? One that was big and sharp and didn’t lend itself as easily to uses beyond simple violence, cutting up meat dead or alive.

“I mean, I think it’s the one he- Kay was gonna use on that Not-Sasha thing, but other than that? No idea.”

“Why would Kay even need to carry around a knife like that?” Jon took a closer look at the knife, tried to determine whether the dirt on it was simply dust and debris from being carried around or something more sinister, but to no avail. “Did he... did he use it on someone?”

“He didn’t, no.”

Jon gulped as he heard his own voice calling out, fast footsteps approaching--how much had Jonny and Kay heard?

“Martin hasn’t had to hurt anyone with that knife. He’s certainly not a murderer. Unlike yours truly, that is.”

Kay protested with a quick “Jon!”, but it wasn’t enough to avert Jon’s attention from the implications of what Jonny had just admitted to. Jon’s throat suddenly felt like sandpaper.

“...are you going to kill us too, then?” Tim didn’t sound terribly afraid of the prospect--angry, perhaps, but not afraid--and his fingers wrapped themselves around the handle of Kay’s biggest knife as he looked up at the duo.

“Jon, you’re scaring them.”

“I have no intention of killing you, no. But since you went digging through our stuff, and probably found some confusing things in there...”

Jon’ stomach sank.

“...perhaps it’s time the two of us give the rest of you a proper explanation.”

[the-darklings]

That vampire au is just 😔👌

𝙑𝘼𝙈𝙋𝙄𝙍𝙀!𝘼𝙐:【01】| 【02】| 【2.5】|

.

John sits in a tub of water, his hands covered in blood. 

You approach him unhurriedly, your eyes dragging over the powerful set of his shoulders. 

The Holy Text across his back appears even more brutal in low light and glistening water. 

“Is that what your church does? Carves up little children so they have a slight chance of opposing my kind?“

The vampire prince and his clever words. There’s been such rage in his eyes. Like he could taste the agony you were put through in your Making. 

You and Jardani were just kids. Plucked out and deemed fit for a higher purpose. No ever stopped to ask you what you had wanted though.

Tools indeed.  

Maybe that’s why it felt so good to see the vampire prince so furious on your behalf. 

“You’re late.”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

His dark halo of hair turns in your direction and you watch him lower his shaking fingers into the piping hot water, hissing lightly. 

As always, his dark stare is quiet and intent as he watches you. 

Your dark shadow. 

“You’re making a mess,” you complain quietly and tug off your thick coat, dropping it on an empty chair before you approach the tub, sitting down against the iron edge. “What happened?”

Your fingers sink underwater and you grab his hand, tugging it up from the burning water as you wet a cloth with your other hand. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Your eyes lift to his for a moment. “Then stop looking at me like you want me closer, Jardani,” you chide softly and drag the wet cloth over his bruised knuckles. “Now tell me what happened.”

“Aurelio.”

Your mouth twitches downwards. “Hm. Werewolves are getting bolder. They believe their new treaty with Camorra saves them. Is he still alive?”

Jardani doesn’t answer immediately. You can feel that intense stare focus on your face, lips, your interlaces fingers. The droplets of blood between you.  

“For now,” he says eventually, a hint of coldness there that says that it was not his decision to grant such mercy. The church sometimes passes judgments that make you both wonder what, exactly, your mission is. If you hunt everything that could harm humanity as a way to keep them safe. Or if you exist for the sole purpose of removing those that no longer play the little power game well enough. “They fell in line eventually.”

You hum under your breath, focusing on your task and watch as the pale cloth stains with blood. 

None of it is his. 

“The vampire prince?”

Your eyes jump to him again. He didn’t want you to go—not alone at least. He had protested but the High Priest had shut down his complaining with a single cold remark. 

You are of service, my son, and you will be of service. Do not forget your place.

“Still alive,” you reveal and meet his inquisitive stare calmly. “They did not want him dead though.”

Jardani frowns; it pinches his eyebrows and tightens his mouth into something colder than he actually is. 

It doesn’t take him long to realise what your last statement means. 

He’s a dangerous, wicked thing. There is a reason why monsters fear him. 

“They wanted you to seduce him?” he whispers, his voice a low growl. His fingers tighten around yours, gripping them tight and his warm eyes have transformed into pits; dark and merciless. 

“They wanted to see if he can be swayed,” you mock, your tone dripping with displeasure at the last word. The Adjudicator’s words. Pointed and direct. Swayed might as well had meant “spread your legs and see if he bites” except literally in this instance. “They wanted to know if he can be used to get a foothold in Camorra. What’s the point of my gifts if they do not help the church. It is my divine purpose.”

Every word is as brittle as the last. They come out hollow and bitter, distant—a truth you’ve had to convince yourself for years. 

Jardani looms like a colossal, terrible thing as he listens and you can’t quite help your slight grin. You lift his now clean fingers, grazing your lips over the warm skin and his eyes latch onto the contact. 

“Do not fret, Jardani,” you reassure him knowingly, lightly, and press another kiss against his skin. A tease, an offer, and this time his eyes darken for a different reason, you know. “The prince was intriguing but you have no reason to be jealous.”

“You like him,” he points out lowly, noting your slightly pause, your thoughtful frown. “Or he won’t be alive. What happened?”

You have no rebuke for that. Santino D'Antonio had proven to be far more exciting than you ever could have imagined but that doesn’t change much. 

You are still a Hunter and he a vampire prince. 

One day, you will inevitably destroy each other. Or maybe Jardani will. 

“You do not have a bearing of a woman who settles for scraps when she can have the world.”

Frowning, you release his hand and rise to your feet, walking further into the room. You’re restless, so your fingers busy themselves with removing your holy blades. The runes cut deep into the metal glimmer when you rotate the blade in your hand with expert ease. 

Jardani’s heavy stare rests on your back as you move, expectant, and it makes you shift, feeling a tingle of your own words beneath your clothes. 

One by one you place the blades on the table. 

“He offered me eternity.“ 

There is no answer. Not for a while. 

Then, you hear him rise from the tub. The distant sound of water running down his body and back into the metal tank is the only sound in the otherwise silent room for several seconds. 

“He what?”

Your smile is grim. “Do not worry. I have no intention of being dessert to some princeling.”

“If he offered you immortality, then he wants you for more than just your blood." 

Astute as always. 

His voice is displeased and right behind you. You feel the distant warmth of him in the chill of the room. 

You turn to face him and reach for him, brushing your fingers through those midnight strands and over the scruff of his cheek. Jardani’s eyes close for a brief second, his soundless wrath receding at your delicate touch. 

He’s still nude from his bath and you tug him to you by the neck, your lips meeting in a hungry, lingering kiss. 

"We can’t,” he breathes against your mouth when he pulls back for breath, no more than a few centimetres apart. His mouth might be saying that but his arms are around you, touching, lingering, as desperate as you are. “It is forbidden.”

You kiss him again, biting his bottom lip and he groans, dragging you to him till you’re flush against him. 

“Make love to me, Jardani,” you whisper against his mouth and his grip on you constricts, his breathing laboured. “Make me forget.”

“Make you forget what?”

“Everything that isn’t you.”

Jardani obeys because he is yours as you are his and as always, he starts with the harsh, twisted carvings of the Holy Text on your back. His breath wet and hot on your skin. Gentle. 

With him, the pain and the uncertainty all fade away. 

For a while, at least. 

But not forever.

And it scares you that forever might be exactly what you want deep down.

. 

.

Your head slants and something cold brushes against your cheek. 

A careful, light touch—an experiment almost. 

Your face scrunches up at the tickly sensation and you snuggle deeper into the—

The blood in your veins rages. 

A warning knell. 

Your fingers snap to your thigh but no blade lays there. All you can touch is silk and bare skin.

Your hands wrap around a slender column of a throat harshly, your thighs locking around your target and you glare down at the figure beneath you. 

Santino D'Antonio grins; a pleased, lazy thing. His eyes spark and he tilts his head slightly as if to get into a more comfortable position. 

“This is a sight I could get used to, bella." 

"What the hell did you do?” you snarl, tightening your grip on his throat—a useless effort now that you know it’s him but some semblance of control is better than nothing. “Where am I?”

Because nothing about this place or this bed of burgundy silken sheets is familiar to you. 

The vampire beneath you hums and watches you with parted lips and hooded eyes. “You’re in my room and you’re dreaming.”

Dream walking. 

A powerful and rare vampire gift. 

It should not surprise you to learn that he has it. 

His father is the most powerful Dream Walker in the land, if not the world. You’ve heard tales of how he tortured Hunters in their dreams for sport till they were driven mad. Some say it was all for fun but others tell tales of how the Hunters—the Holy Church itself—has taken something from the vampire king and this war is a punishment. How humans everywhere have to pay for the mistakes made. 

D'Antonio’s nostrils flare suddenly, scenting the air—you—and his eyes narrow. His jaw ticks, clenching, his previous hunger fading a touch. “You reek of him,” he informs you bluntly and his mouth curves into a dismayed line, irked. “I suppose that answers my previous question about the nature of your relationship with the Boogeyman.”

You pull away from him, scrambling across his huge bed and stagger to your feet, not letting him leave your sight. 

Even if this is a dream—

You have no weapons, no way to defend yourself, not really. 

You could invoke the Holy Text on your back but that will cost you. The High Priest has warned you against calling upon it many times, stating that you were not ready. 

The vampire prince only grins at your retreat, seemingly amused. He sits up slowly, as if not to spook you, and leans against the gleaming dark wood of the headboard. You glare at him harder when you realise that he's naked. The silk barely covers him and the prominent dip of his hip catches your eye. The silky smooth skin there. 

“You can come closer. I don’t bite,” he purrs softly, his eyes a shade darker, hungrier under your scrutiny. He enjoys being admired. “Oh, my. My apologies I just realised that I do, in fact, bite, amore. My bad.”

“How am I here?”

He clicks his tongue, bored, his eyes flickering up towards the ceiling. Apart from his bed of rich, red silk the rest of the room is surprisingly open. Bright. 

“I have your scent. Once a vampire like me has that, I can find you anywhere in the dream world,” he divulges, his words a touch dull and he leans against his palm, a slight grin twitching that sensuous mouth. “How could I resist such temptation, hm?”

The hunger in those words is stifling. 

Even though you’re wearing a nightgown, you might as well be naked under that otherworldly gaze. His eyes drag over every inch of you. From the swell of your hips, to the curve of your breasts and the crook of your neck.

“Get out.”

He chuckles; a low, sinful sound, his head slanting and baring the graceful arch of his neck to you. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, bella. I need you to ask nicely. Preferably while you’re moaning my name." 

His goddamn voice—

He might as well be fucking you with his words alone. Every syllable rolling off his tongue like a seductive, loving purr. 

All vampires are like this. Wicked and ready to corrupt all for the sake of their own pleasure. 

Gritting your teeth, you tug on the heat in your blood. That poison, that nectar of holy power, and leash it around yourself.

"I said get out." 

The room creeks. 

D'Antonio shifts, his eyes tracking over the walls where stone cracks. The air becoming thicker with a mix of more than just him. The Holy Text carved into your back burns and you hone in on that heat as his eyes snap to you. Wide, delighted. 

"Oh, look at you,” he speaks, his words warped with wonder, and sits up, not taking his eyes off you. “You are so much more powerful than I thought. You're magnifica."  

"I said get out.”

Stone crumbles to the floor but the vampire before you doesn’t seem to mind or care. He has eyes only for you. 

His room continues falling apart but Santino D'Antonio only bestows you with a slow, dangerous smile; a peak of his fangs appearing. 

“You had my curiosity before, Vipress,” he says, his accented words rolling off his tongue effortlessly. “But now you have my attention.”

Everything goes dark.  

[memory-mortis]

For Whom The Bell Tolls [Bucciarati x Reader]

Hello there! First JJBA fanfic posted on this blog, let’s fucking gooooo- anyway, I feel kinda weird about this one, idk. It’s a mixture of fighting, then angst, then some fluff. Your Stand is named Parabola, after the Tool song. If you like rock/metal, I suggest putting it on when you rush in to help Bruno! CW: Graphic violence Word count: 4,777

Your leg bounced up and down in anxiety as you sat on the couch, a single meter of space between you and Bruno. The sounds of the motorboat from the outside filled the room inside the turtle, but you paid it no mind, too preoccupied with your thoughts running rampant in your head. The mission was nearing its end. Trish sat in the armchair across the table, hugging her legs close to her chest. You assumed she was nervous as well, and you could totally understand why. This was, after all, the first time she would meet her father and the fact that he was the boss of the biggest mafia in all of Italy did not help ease any of her anxiety. Or that’s what you guessed she must have felt like anyway. You would have been the same in her shoes. 

You leaned back into the couch, spreading your arms over the back, but despite your efforts to look as relaxed as possible, your leg just wouldn’t listen. Fuck. It all felt too easy. The mission was going too smoothly. You hadn’t lost a single member of your team. That was a good thing, of course, but at the same time, doubt crept its way into the far back of your mind, gnawing at you, its whining for attention soon turning into a loud screech of nails against chalkboard. This is why you worked alone. The constant worry of losing someone close to you would hold you back and rapidly decrease your performance.

Was this a trap? Bruno had confided in you a couple nights back that him and the new kid Giorno were planning on taking over the mafia. But the boss was a huge enigma and none of you never really knew who he was - what if he had heard all of that? What if he knew? You bit your lip hard. Was he going to massacre the team - even if the only ones who knew about the plan were you, Giorno and Bruno?

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Bruno laid his warm hand on your thigh, stopping the rapid movement. Your eyes jolted to his face; brows furrowed in concern and deep blue eyes boring into your very soul. You exhaled a breath which you didn’t know you were holding back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice as soft and caring as always. It was nearly impossible to keep things from him, but as your eyes ticked over to Trish, who was staring at you intently, you figured it would be best not to voice your thoughts. You didn’t want to give the girl any unnecessary worries.

You gave Bruno an apologetic smile before responding, “Sorry, it’s nothing. I guess I’m just anxious to meet the boss.” He continued to stare into your eyes and you felt your cheeks burn up under his gaze, but refused to break eye contact, as that would indicate that you were lying. A corner of his lips twitched upwards but he quickly forced the smirk back into a neutral expression. What was that about?

“How much longer till we get there?” he asked, finally turning away from you. You looked at Trish who was cocking an eyebrow at you. You huffed in response. “We’re almost at Rialto Bridge,” Fugo answered from above, “it’ll be at least another five minutes.” “All right. Keep going.” “Bucciarati,” Giorno joined the conversation, “what was the mission from the boss?”

Bruno inserted the disc he was holding into the laptop on the table and immediately a window popped up. “I’m reconfirming the mission from the boss right now,” he said as green letters appeared on the screen. You shuffled a bit closer to the capo, looking over his shoulder in curiosity. “I’ll read it aloud,” he announced from next to you, so close you could practically feel his breath. This was the only kind of intimacy you would get while on this mission, apart from the occasional disappearance into Sticky Fingers’ realm for a quick make-out. It was always small things like an arm wrapped around your shoulders, the back of his hand brushing against yours, or his hand on the small of your back while ushering you somewhere. You had learnt to appreciate these gestures in your time with Bruno. The two of you were very reserved and hated doing anything inappropriate in front of the others, especially since like half of your team was underage. But they were quick to catch on to the way the two of you looked at each other and would snicker to each other behind your back. At least Abbacchio was there to keep them at bay. You were very thankful for that.

Bruno went on to explain the instructions on the disc, such as how much time you had and all the strict rules that felt extremely paranoid to you. The boss wanted to meet only one of you and you immediately knew that Bruno would be the one to go. The rest of you were supposed to wait on the boat and stepping onto the island was strictly prohibited. You bit your lip once again.

“Giorno, Y/N,” the capo addressed the two of you when the boat came to a halt, “I would like to speak to you in private.” He stood up and walked over to one of the walls, creating a zipper on it. Giorno got inside the turtle without hesitation and all three of you stepped into Sticky Fingers’ void, Bruno closing the zipper behind you. The blonde raised an eyebrow at him in question. “I have a bad feeling about this. We need to have a plan B in case everything goes to hell.” You nodded in agreement. “Do you, um…” you started, blushing at the realization that Giorno was about to hear what you have to say, “do you have to be the one to go? Can’t Abbacchio do it?” Bruno’s gaze on you softened as he gave you a smile that could melt all the ice caps. “Y/N.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and you leaned into the touch. “I wish I could, but I’m the capo. I should be the one to do it, mia cara.”

You weren’t surprised. A little disappointed, yes, but you understood the gravity of the situation at hand. Sending an ordinary gangster could be viewed as disrespectful, who knows how the boss would react to that. And so you just gave him a sigh before bracing yourself, your expression shifting into its usual impenetrable hardness. That was the you that Giorno recognized, the strict determined glare you had when Bucciarati first introduced you to the gang.

“Then let’s make sure we’re prepared,” you said, all tenderness gone. Bruno let go of your cheek and also focused at the task. He loved that about you. The way you could separate your work from emotions in order to truly concentrate, although he would often have to remind you when you were not working anymore.

“Giorno, give me one of your brooches. We can use it as a tracking device. This is a chance for us to find out the boss’ identity.” Giorno did as he was told, giving his ladybug brooch life before handing it to the capo. “Now, if anything feels off, the two of you have permission to get off the boat, but do not let anyone else step onto the island. Got it?” You and Giorno nodded in unison. Bruno opened a zipper in his own jaw before continuing, “I’m going to hide a phone inside myself. If things go south, Y/N, I will call you, so be ready. Any questions?” This time you shook your head. He reached for the zipper to go back outside, but you grabbed his wrist and pressed your lips to his cheek quickly.

“Just for luck,” you mumbled and Bruno chuckled softly, stepping out. You and Giorno followed right after.

__

You couldn’t shake off the bad feeling as you watched Bruno and Trish walk away from the boat. You sat there, clenching the phone in your hand, eyes pinned to the bell tower.

“Jesus, Y/N, ease up a little. You’re like a dog waiting for its owner,” Narancia teased, poking you with his elbow and a grin plastered on his face. You gave him an annoyed glare. As much as he liked to remind Giorno that he was older, he sure acted way less mature.

“The mission’s not over yet. Sit back down and shut up,” you ordered and he listened immediately. Even though you were equal when it came to your position in the mafia, you still gave off the aura of a superior, not only because of your age, but also because of your dominant nature. The boys often argued who was more bossy, you or Abbacchio, and they always settled on a draw.

You looked over to Giorno. His brows were furrowed in concentration.

“What’s up,” you asked, scooting closer to take a look at the laptop in his lap.

“Bucciarati must have dropped the brooch down the elevator shaft. It’s… strange.” You clenched your jaw and once again pinned your eyes to the building. Biting your lip, you stood up and tossed your phone to Giorno who only managed to catch it in the last minute.

“W-Wait, Y/N, where-” you didn’t let him finish his question, interrupting him.

“It feels too wrong. I’m going. Pick it up if he calls.” With that, you stepped out of the motorboat, which made everyone else stand up and erupt into chaos.

“Hey, Y/N! The boss said to stay on the boat!” Abbacchio’s deep voice was the most prominent one out of the rest of the team.

“The boss can go fuck himself. Everyone stay here. No one except Giorno is allowed to get off the boat! And that’s an order from your capo!” That was enough to silence them all and you did not waste any more time, running inside the building.

__

Bruno skidded towards the unconscious girl, wary of his surroundings. The boss was nowhere to be seen, but he was definitely present. Things went south, just as he had expected. Picking up Trish’s arm, he sewed her hand back on using his Stand’s zipper. Disgusting. Doing all of this just to murder his own daughter and get away with it, an action so despicable it made Bruno want to throw up.

“I’d like to ask you why,” the boss’s voice suddenly echoed around Bruno, who instinctively destroyed the pillar nearest to him with Sticky Fingers. “What’s the meaning of this? I highly respected all the work you had done for me on this mission. Were you so happy to become a capo that you got greedy? Or did you overestimate your own powers and get cocky, thinking you could actually surpass me?”

Bucciarati did not answer any of his questions. Instead, he propped Trish’s head up, ready to flee with her body anywhere in case the boss attacked.

“When Trish wakes up, I’m going to tell her that her father didn’t even exist,” he said, his protective nature taking over him.

“Trish?” The boss sounded genuinely confused. “What about Trish? My daughter has nothing to do with you.”

“You could never understand my true feelings!” Bruno growled, unzipping his jaw to grab his phone. He promptly put it to his ear. “Y/N?”

“Bucciarati!” He was surprised to hear Giorno’s voice instead of yours.

“Giorno? Where’s Y/N?” He furrowed his brows. Why didn’t you pick up? Where the hell were you? Would he have to worry about you as well?

“Well, you see- she’s already on her way.”

“What do you-” Bruno gritted his teeth. If you were on your way there, it would be unwise to let the boss know. “Tell me his location,” he ordered instead.

“Yes! Right now, he’s at the bottom of the stairs to the charnel house. He’s right by the pillar that’s about two meters away from the stairs,” Giorno explained, “but wait, Bucciarati! Something is wrong!”

Bucciarati didn’t listen to his warning. He pinned his eyes to the pillar and called out Sticky Fingers, who pummeled it into pieces. A shadow stood behind the pillar, however as the pieces scattered, his eyes widened at the sight of himself. Sticky Fingers’ fist met his own chest.

“W-What…” was all Bruno could say, confused to find himself suddenly standing in the place of his copy. Nothing made sense. He was there, and now he was somewhere else? What the hell was going on? Was this the boss’s true power?

A deep voice boomed from behind him. “I decided to show you… as a parting gift. Since this is the end, I’ll fill you in. What you just witnessed and felt… was you in the future,” the boss clarified, “you from a few seconds from the past witnessed yourself in the future. This is my King Crimson’s ability! I erased time and leapt past it!”

The figure standing behind Bruno reached back, preparing to punch a hole straight through his chest. He was already swinging his fist–

But the contact never came, much to his dismay.

You rushed in at the last second. Seeing the position Bucciarati was in pumped adrenaline through your entire body and you leapt down the stairs, summoning your Parabola with her flaming sword. You jumped in between the two men, successfully chopping off King Crimson’s arm.

“Hands off my boyfriend!” you screamed, the fire of your Stand sparkling in your eyes, a true testament to your rage.

“W-what!” the boss choked out, stepping back just in time to dodge Parabola’s sword one more time, this time aiming to slice his entire body in half. Your cheeks were crimson red from the temperature rising both within and around you.

“Y/N!” Bucciarati called out from behind you. How glad was he to see you. Parabola stabbed its sword into the severed arm, twisting it around until it combusted into flames and turned to ashes. At that moment it dawned on Bruno just how angry you were. This wasn’t good, he knew about your temperament and how hard it was to snap you out of it afterwards.

“Bruno,” you tore him out of his thoughts, voice deep and venomous. “Go get Trish. Keep her safe. Get her out of here. I’ll fight him.”

“Y/N! He’s too powerful, you can’t take him on your own!” he refused, terrified just from what he had seen so far.

“I won’t. I suspect Giorno is already on his way here. Go!”

Clenching his jaw, Bruno turned and bolted towards Trish, only to suddenly find himself kneeling next to her. He froze. It happened again, the time skip. His eyes darted back to you, widening at the sight. King Crimson and you were in a draw, the enemy’s strong hand holding your arm, broken at the elbow, while Parabola’s sword was pressed tight against his throat. King Crimson chuckled.

“I like you. Your reflexes are fast. I was just about to punch a hole through your stomach, but you managed to dodge it, even despite the time skip,” he praised, however you did not respond, too focused on biting your lip to hold back your scream of pain. You weren’t about to let the boss have the pleasure of hearing you acknowledge the damage he did to you.

“Fuck you!” you spat, swinging the sword at his throat in an attempt to slice it. You were unsuccessful. It seemed like he already knew your next move and so he pulled back, taking your arm with him.

This time, you were unable to hold it in. A painful screech left your throat as your forearm disconnected at the joint and the muscles around it were forcefully torn apart. You took a few steps back before tripping and falling onto the floor, eyes pinned to the blood gushing out of your severed limb, and boy was there a lot of it. Your face turned ghastly pale, bile rising to your throat.

“Sticky Fingers!” you heard Bruno’s muffled voice and in mere seconds, the wound was zipped shut, the blood flow cut off. Unfortunately, it did not stop the pain. You took a couple strained breaths and growled, snapping yourself out of the shock.

“Y/N!” Bruno yelled, leaning over you and cupping your cheeks. He gave you a terrified look and you saw your reflection in his teary eyes. You looked like shit, to say the least. Your eyes widened once you noticed King Crimson looming behind Bruno, and you opened your mouth to scream anything, but a familiar sound stopped you.

It was the sound of Gold Experience’s powers, hard to explain, but very easy to recognize. King Crimson was pulled back and both you and Bruno watched as the ladybug brooch turned into a turtle, completely identical to Coco Jumbo, forcing the boss inside together with his Stand.

“Giorno must have put Coco Jumbo’s cells into the brooch before giving it life,” Bruno clarified. He summoned Sticky Fingers once again and opened a hole in the ground, sending the turtle down a water pipe. “Let’s use this chance to get away!” He looked at you and helped you get up clumsily, you were drowsy from all the blood loss, which pissed you off even more. Bruno hurried to pick up Trish and the three of you headed to the stairs, freezing at the sight of King Crimson standing at the top.

“Giorno Giovanna, huh,” the boss thought aloud, menacing aura all around him, “he must have joined this organization with the intent to betray me from the start.” You did not waste another second and called Parabola out. She was paler in comparison to just a few moments ago, but you weren’t going to give up just because you were missing a limb. That unbreakable determination was enough to feed her flames.

“Useless!” the boss cried out, King Crimson baring his fist and aiming right for Parabola’s weak point. He came to a halt when Sticky Fingers’ arm appeared right next to his head. Bruno was able to land a punch, when suddenly King Crimson stood a few meters away, this time coming for your boyfriend.

“Bruno!” you screamed in terror, your voice was already starting to get raspy from all the yelling. To your surprise, he did not show any fear.

“It wasn’t you that I was trying to attack,” he explained, and only then did you notice the zipper on a nearby column, “it was this pillar! Zipper, close!” He grabbed both you and Trish and once Sticky Fingers closed the zipper, you were pulled up, completely dodging King Crimson’s attack. You laughed at the enemy Stand’s angry expression as you continued going up, until the zipper closed around you.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Bruno asked upon setting you down. You stood on all four–well, three–and took laboured breaths, drops of sweat trickling down your face. The adrenaline had somewhat worn off and the pulsating agony in what was left of your arm returned. His soft warm hand tucked your hair behind your ear in order to allow him to get a better look at your expression. But you couldn’t allow yourself to ease up now, no, the danger was not quite gone just yet. You clenched your teeth and snapped at him.

“I’m fine. Let’s go. We can’t stop here. He’ll be here soon.” You struggled to get up and stopped as soon as Giorno’s voice reached your ears.

“Bucciarati! Y/N!” the blonde called out to you, dropping to his knees next to all of you. He noticed the state of your arm and flinched. “What happened?”

“We had a little disagreement with the boss,” you smirked, holding onto Bruno to stand straight. “Grab Trish and let’s get the fuck out of here.” Giorno nodded and picked unconscious Trish up, leading you all to the exit. The rest of the gang stood at the entrance.

“Bucciarati!” Abbacchio growled, approaching you.

“Bucciarati, what’s going on? Why is Trish still with you? Why is- why is Y/N missing an arm?” Narancia chimed in. You groaned, the constant reminder of your pain annoying you.

“I’ll explain everything later. Right now, we need to get out of here as soon as possible,” Bruno commanded, giving you a side glance. You avoided eye contact, focusing on the task at hand instead.

Bruno helped you sit down on the boat. You hated being pampered like this, but without an arm, your balance was off and the boat’s movements were making you unstable. Right after sitting down, he handed you Trish and you held her in your healthy arm, just to make sure she was alright.

“What the hell’s going on, Bucciarati?” Abbacchio asked. “We need an explanation. What the hell are you doing?” Bruno left a hand on your cheek and you gazed up at him with worry, before he turned around and stepped off the boat.

“All right. I’ll just come out and say it.” You watched the capo intently. “But I can’t explain everything right now, because there’s no time and danger’s right around the corner.” Everyone was silent and the atmosphere grew thick as Bruno paused. “The reason I brought Trish back is because I betrayed the boss just now.”

He just dropped the bomb like that, shocking the whole team. Well, except for you and Giorno that is, the two of you already knew.

“I’ll be leaving you guys now,” he announced. “If you go with me, you will also become traitors.”

“W-What…” Mista interrupted the silence.

“Bucciarati, you should explain. Some of them might want to follow you. We need people on our side,” Giorno added, which angered Abbacchio. The goth grabbed his collar, pulling him close to his face.

“What the hell is your deal, Giorno?!” he snapped.

“Abbacchio!” Your deep scolding voice made him freeze. All eyes were on your pitiful form now. Although it wasn’t unusual for you to scold Narancia or Mista when they did something dumb or got loud at the restaurant, there were only two or three instances in the past when you had raised your voice at Abbacchio. You did usually have deep respect for the man after all. “Let go of the boy. This isn’t his fault. It was meant to happen sooner or later.”

Abbacchio squinted his eyes at you in a scowl, but listened to your order and let go of Giorno, instead shifting his attention to Bucciarati, who took a look back at you and Trish.

Finally, he began explaining, “The boss had us act as Trish’s bodyguards so that he could kill his daughter with his own two hands. Because she shares his blood, she could have figured out his true identity. I found that out and… I couldn’t forgive him. I couldn’t just come back pretending I didn’t see that. That’s why I betrayed him!”

You managed to smile in spite of the pain shooting up your arm. That was the Bruno you loved. Compassionate, caring. He knew right from wrong, despite his years spent in the organization. And he was not going to continue ignoring the atrocities done by the boss any longer. You thanked Giorno for that. He was the force that started moving those gears inside your lover, the one thing that forced him to finally truly come out of his shell.

The rest of the team didn’t seem as excited about these news though. You understood their fears. The boss was ruthless.

“Are you insane, Bucciarati?” Mista was the last one you’d expect to hear that sort of thing from, considering his antics.

Abbacchio, on the other hand, sounded more composed, “You know exactly what happens to traitors, no matter who it is. The boss never lets anyone get away. Hell, Venice could already be surrounded by the boss’s elite guard!”

“You’re right, and that’s why I’m going to need help. If any of you are willing to accompany me, come down these stairs and get on the boat. But I will not order any of you to come with me.”

__

The decision was difficult, but in the end, it was only Fugo who remained on the island. For a moment it looked like Narancia would stay as well, but in the end he jumped into the water and swam after you like an absolute madman. The image made you laugh, but a jolt of pain stopped you, causing your laughter to turn into a groan.

“Right,” Bruno turned around after helping Narancia get into the boat. “Giorno, get Y/N into the turtle and fix her up.” You gulped. Giorno’s healing powers were far from perfect, he could fix about anything, but there was nothing to stop the pain. You weren’t about to back out just because of fear though, and so you got into the turtle together with Trish. You lowered her down onto the couch and took a seat on the other end, Giorno joining right next to you.

“Bucciarati,” he called out to his capo, “your zipper.” Bruno got into the turtle as well and took off the zipper around the end of your arm. You hissed as blood poured out.

“Fuck!” you yelled in a poor attempt to somehow relieve yourself. Bruno furrowed his eyebrows at the sight and crouched in front of you, taking your healthy hand into his.

“Hold on to me,” he said and you clenched his hand.

__

After five minutes of your hissing and yelling, Giorno was finally done with your arm. It was still very much sensitive and moving it around felt weird, but it was there and you were thankful for that. You would have thanked him, but you were exhausted, and it was evident in the dark circles under your eyes.

You were about to get up, but Bruno’s hands on your shoulders stopped you, pushing you back against the couch.

“You need to rest.”

You scoffed, “I can rest later. We’re still in danger.”

“Clearly he’s gone, Y/N, otherwise he would have attacked by now,” Bruno reasoned. You cocked an eyebrow at him. Giorno decided it would be better to give you two space and left the turtle.

“We can’t know that for sure, Bruno. He could be anywhere. We don’t know anything about him, maybe he has some other powers. We should be ready to defend ourselves at all times.” You grabbed his wrists and pushed him away, standing up.

“Stop,” he said, but you continued walking, so he hurried over to you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You clenched your jaw.

“You can relax now, Y/N. He’s gone. The danger is gone. I’m here. I’m alive.” He whispered into your ear. You didn’t want to relax. You didn’t want to, because you knew that you would immediately become vulnerable in front of everyone. So instead you opted for keeping yourself on edge constantly, distracting yourself with worrying about danger. But that was hard to do with Bruno’s warmth surrounding you and the sweetness coating his voice. You bit your lip, failing to keep the tears from spilling over.

“You could’ve died,” you whispered, voice shaky from the lump in your throat. The tension in your body dissipated and you hid your face in your hands. Bruno pressed his lips against the back of your head.

“But I didn’t. You saved me. You did well,” he reassured you and with that, your walls shattered. A sob left your lips and Bruno immediately turned you around, pressing you against his chest. Your hands clutched his clothes to remind you that he was there, he was well and alive.

After a while of him stroking your hair, your sobs finally subsided and the tears stopped falling. You looked up and he cupped your cheek with one hand, gazing into your eyes with a sad smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand.

“Do you want me to stay?” You decided to be selfish for once and nodded, which earned you a soft smile and a kiss to your forehead. “All right.” He laid down on the couch and you joined, lying down on him. Resting your head on his chest, your eyes fluttered close at the sound of his heartbeat. Bruno stroked soothing circles on your back and soon enough, your breathing grew even.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and you hummed in response right before falling asleep.

[rainingjewel]

Sweet Nothings - An Ochre prompt

Something simple for @teirrart

As far as Pigment was concerned, it was a beautiful day. The breeze felt wonderful against his skull and the scent of the wide variety of plants that thrived on Sandy’s mountain was soothing. It was a little cloudy, but that just meant he didn’t have to worry about his bones getting burned in the bright sun here! Despite how empty the mountain was, it was a very beautiful place and it kind of reminded him of where he grew up. Just without the beach part.

 Sandy, however, was looking up at the sky, noticing the cloud patterns. Rain was going to be upon them, and what was worse, a storm was brewing in the east. He would have to take Pigment up the mountain, into his old home for shelter… or they’d have to leave. That was not going to be an easy case to make. The smile Pigment wore warmed his soul… he hated to break the news to him that his perfect calm day of learning was going to be put on hold.

 “Minty,” Sandy called out to the daydreaming skeleton. “Come now, we should get moving.”

 “Why? We have all day! You’re always telling me to slow down, why the rush?” Pigment tilted his head in confusion, innocent eyes filled with orange and yellow shapes.

 “A storm is coming later. We won’t be able to do as much field work as we originally planned.”

 “Huh? But it’s such a nice day!” Pigment declared as he protested Sandy’s assessment.

 “For now it is. Come on, you grew up on the beach. Don’t you remember how the weather would suddenly turn?”

 “I guess…” Pigment pouted.

 Sandy sighed at the disappointed look on the younger skeleton’s face. He couldn’t help it, what emotions he did have, Pigment wore on his sleeve. It was endearing, and one of the reasons he had fallen in love with him. Seeing his boyfriend upset in any form twisted his soul, but weather was one thing he could not help with.

 He gently leaned in, kissing the top of the smaller skeleton’s skull. “There’s still time before it all. And while we wait out the storm, I’ll let you use my supplies. You can start your own potion, on your own. I’ll just keep back and watch, okay?”

 Pigment’s pout turned into a gentle smile at the alchemist’s promise. He hadn’t really been able to use any of Sandy’s tools without his extensive oversight. It wasn’t unwarranted either. Pigment had attempted to mix several dangerous things together with his powders in the past. But that had been some time ago, he was better now, not just grabbing random things because they were a certain color.

 “I wouldn’t mind you being close and observing either,” Pigment snuggled into Sandy’s chest, embracing the taller skeleton with an unintentional flirt.

 Intentional or not, it always got to Sandy when Pigment would be forward like that. A light golden dusting appeared on his cheekbones as he felt the tip of his boyfriend’s nasal cavity scratch him lightly through his clothes. “Heh… I suppose I can arrange that.”

 Pigment laughed a little as Sandy fluttered kisses down his jawline, a bit of a rainbow hue brightening his cheeks. Despite them being skeletons, Sandy’s kisses tickled and he knew he was sensitive, especially along the side with his mark! He barely pulled away, giggling for a brief moment, before their teeth met together.

 Pigment, despite being kissed many times before, was always slightly overloaded with the emotions that flowed through him whenever Sandy got this close. It was surreal and addicting. He could never pick one emotion that was prominent when it happened, which was what he tried to do when he overdosed. This wasn’t like that. His cheeks burned, his head felt light and dizzy, part of his chest felt like it was inflating with… something, he didn’t know. It took him a moment or two to recover, just holding onto his boyfriend’s arms as his head continued to swirl.

 Once Pigment was back together mentally, the two would walk around the mountain, doing some field work. The apprentice was quizzed by the master on a variety of things, allowing him to take his samples and ingredients for later.

 While collecting some thistle, Pigment heard a faint sound further into the plants. He slowly moved through the thistle and tall grass, stopping when he saw some stinging nettle… his old enemy. He glared at it, his round face rather humorous to look at from the outside. Carefully, he went around it, trying to find the source of the sound…

 Laying at the edge of the nettle was a black and white cat with longer fur. The sounds were its pitiful mews of discomfort. Instinctively, Pigment went to reach for it, but he felt himself yanked back by his jumper.

 “What are you doing?”

 The quick, harsher tone of the alchemist startled the smaller skeleton, and Pigment’s hands went to his chest, pulling himself closer together.

 “It’s hurt,” Pigment said innocently, looking down at the cat.

 Sandy glanced down at the cat. It had been stung by the nettle… how did it get sick enough by the amount it had walked in, he wondered… it was at the edge of it.

 “Minty…”

 “Sandy, please! I know how painful that is! Don’t you have more of your medicine for it?”

 “I do but—”

 Pigment started digging through Sandy’s satchels, looking for the right ointment. “It’s in this one right?”

 “Pigment!”

 The smaller skeleton jolted back up, looking uneasy at the tone his boyfriend had just used. It wasn’t often he did something to warrant the tone, and he couldn’t comprehend why Sandy would use it now. He only used it when it was serious…

Sandy had been trying to push the smaller painter away from the cat since he saw it, but Pigment was having none of it. He felt for him, and the cat. It wasn’t as if Sandy wanted the creature to suffer…

 “It’s a human pet, Mint,” Sandy emphasized, leading Pigment way.

 The younger skeleton felt his fight leave for a moment, letting himself be moved away from the small, suffering creature. As he moved further away, tears started lining his eyes. He remembered very clearly what the warnings were… humans were toxic, especially to monsters in this world… anything domesticated was to be avoided too… tainted…

 “I-it’s not… it’s a cat, Sandy… it’s not a human…”

 “If the pets aren’t toxic themselves, they can still poison you if it scratches or bites. You don’t have a soul to ward it off, I can’t treat you the way I have the other monsters that have been exposed. I won’t risk you for a cat, Mint.”

 “Please…” he pleaded. “C-can’t you check it or something? I…”

 Sandy’s soul twisted in his chest as Pigment looked up at him with those pleading eyes. Watery, innocent eyes… it was hard enough to not want to help it. It was just a cat, and Sandy had grown very fond of the species thanks to a mutual friend of theirs…

 With a heavy sigh, he relented. “Fine… but you have to stand back,” and he pointed to a tree across a clearing, a good distance away.

 Pigment wasn’t thrilled with that idea. He wanted to help but he understood why. “Be careful…”

 As the smaller skeleton walked over to the designated waiting spot, the alchemist turned his attention back to where the cat had been laying. This poison was something he was used to, but it caused serious damage… it always got his nerves up…

 Carefully, Sandy walked toward the cat, his bare feet softly crunching the brush beneath them. He looked at the cat as its chest heaved, as if not getting enough air or it was hard for it to breathe. His own soul felt tight as he fell into his old role…

 “Sorry, kitty…” he whispered as his hand started to glow with a gentle yellow. The weakened feline’s soul was surrounded by the same light and brought to the foreground…

 Much to Sandy’s surprise, the taint of the humans of his world was barely upon this cat. A small amount, but not nearly enough to suggest it lived amongst them. That alone was strange… did the animals start to move into the forest? That could be dangerous… he would have to investigate…

 But that was later. Now, he had a patient… he still couldn’t risk Pigment being bit, even with this low level of taint, but at least if he was bit, it wouldn’t be serious. He had been around this type of poison for far too long and had grown resistant… but it was something that was forever with him, and it would give him nightmares if he could sleep…

 He had medicine for the taint… he had medicine for the nettle… but something else wasn’t sitting right with him about this whole thing. How did this cat end up being so badly poisoned from the stinging nettle if it was so close to the edge of the patch?

 As he attempted to treat the cat, forcing medicine into its mouth a lot easier than he thought, given how weak it was, he found his answer… talon marks… a bird had scooped this cat up and dropped it into the nettle. How many internal injuries did this poor cat have?

 Pigment fidgeted as he watched Sandy barely move. Sitting still was not his forte, he wanted to move around. He wanted to help. He was getting better at medicine. If nothing else, a second pair of hands couldn’t hurt, right?

 But he also understood Sandy’s concern. Monsters were incredibly susceptible to the toxins human souls produced in this world… and without a soul to combat it, he was uniquely compromised… but after minutes upon minutes standing there, and not being able to tell if the cat was okay, Pigment couldn’t take it any longer.

 He tried to mimic Sandy’s quiet steps, but his shoes always gave him away in the brush. Despite his best efforts, he just… couldn’t be quiet.

 “I told you to stay back.”

 “I want to help,” he quietly declared. “You’re in danger too if it’s tainted… I won’t risk you for this either!”

 Golden eyes met watery blue and green and Sandy couldn’t help himself. “Oh, Minty…” he sighed with a gentle smile.

 Pigment moved in with Sandy’s gentle coaxing and he sat down beside his beloved. The sight of the cat still struggling to breathe worried him.

 “What’s wrong with it?”

 “Between human toxins, the nettle, and being dropped from a great height… there’s a lot, Minty… I don’t know if I can help it…”

 “But… you have to! You’re a doctor!” he began to plead.

 It was times like this Sandy deeply regretted never being able to follow in his father’s footsteps, never inheriting his gift for healing…  “Minty, I don’t… I’m not…”

 Sandy felt arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tightly. “You’re the best doctor ever, Sandy! You can do things no one else can, you see things that everyone else misses. I know you want to instantly make someone better, but your healing is better than that. I know it’s not easy but I know you can do it. And I’ll do whatever you need me to, to help!”

 The alchemist glanced back at his partner before resting his forehead against the other’s. Sandy’s success rate of critically injured patients wasn’t the greatest… that instant healing would be really handy to get them out of the woods… but it did generally lead to complications down the road. Things went overlooked or missed in the rush to close a wound, poisons got left in, infections would spread… neither method was superior but his was all he had at the moment.

 With a little help from Pigment, Sandy did what he could for the cat. He tried to ease its breathing, treating symptoms as well as the overall problems. Medicine took some time to work so it was a waiting game… but all in all… it was a good experience for Pigment. He got to really apply what he had learned so far, and perhaps learn a little more… not to mention he did what he did best… Sandy was always humbled by how quickly Pigment would cheer him on, how he always supported him.

 As he was stabilizing the cat, a faint rumble was heard above them.

 “What?” Pigment started to fret. “It was sunny a second ago!”

 This was what he was worried about. Sandy ripped off his half-cloak and very carefully used it to pick up the cat. Luckily it was too weak to really fight.

 “We need to get inside, Mint,” he spoke up, snapping the other back to reality.

 “O-okay.”

 Running up the mountain to the old, abandoned village, the sky ripped open and started letting out its torrent. Pigment cried out a little as he tried to cover his head from the freezing cold water while Sandy just tried to lean over the cat more.

 It felt like it took far longer than it should have before they finally made it to his old home. It was a modest cabin, made of logs and stone with some straw for insulation on the roof. It was fairly dry inside despite the pounding weather outside. Sandy went and gently placed the cat down on the floor, still wrapped in his cloak. As he tried to start a fire in the middle of the living area, Pigment began to whimper. He didn’t handle the cold well…

 Sandy glanced back at him, managing to get a small fire going. It wasn’t as if he kept a lot of firewood here… he didn’t stay in this house too often, preferring to camp out… too many memories. But what he had left… it would hold them for now.

 “Jeez, Mint,” Sandy went over, beginning to tease, “I think you took in enough water to fill a lake.”

 “Sandy…” he whined.

 “All right, all right,” the elder chuckled before leaning in, gently kissing his boyfriend’s cheek. “Take off those wet clothes and hang them by the fire to dry. I’ll go scrounging around for something for you to wear in the meantime.”

 A rainbow tint came across Pigment’s face. “U-um…”

 “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before, Mint,” Sandy smirked a little at his lover’s embarrassment. “Or are you wanting to do it in my old house?”

 “N-No, I-I…!”

 “Though, I suppose it would be a good way to warm you up.”

 A high-pitched whine escaped Pigment as his entire skull erupted in his rainbow-hued blush, hands covering his face.

 A soft chuckle and another peck to his flushed cheek, Sandy gently caressed Pigment’s skull. “I’m merely teasing, Mint,” he whispered with nothing but love coating his words. “But I am serious about getting you out of these wet clothes before you get sick. Can you do that for me? Once we’re in dry clothes we can cuddle by the fire and keep an eye on our new friend.”

 The blush didn’t fade, but Pigment nodded. He understood the why, but emotions were still… difficult for him to process and it wasn’t always sure when Sandy was serious or teasing. It made for some awkward moments, despite Sandy’s patient and nurturing nature. Pigment was glad he was so sweet and understanding with him…

 After finding a spare set of clothes for them both, Pigment swimming in the taller skeleton’s already baggy clothes, Sandy had also found a blanket for them to wrap up in. The cat was wrapped in a blanket as well, the cloak hanging to dry with the rest of their clothes.

 Despite it being early in the afternoon, Pigment managed to fall asleep against Sandy near the fire. It was a cozy little scene after all… a nap with his boyfriend sounded like the best thing in the world right now… it was too bad he couldn’t sleep…

 As he debated about laying down and just pretending for a bit, he heard a sound coming from the other blanket. Hating to abandon his cozy love bug of a boyfriend, but needing to check on his patient, Sandy reluctantly laid Pigment down on his own, wrapped in the blanket. He scooted over to open the blanket. He was greeted by a weak hiss. He should have expected that… Cats were the most dangerous when they were vulnerable.

 “Easy there…” he spoke softly, gently extending a finger for the cat to sniff.

 A low growl, but after a moment, the cat began to sniff his skeletal finger. Then, as if recognizing the scent, maybe realizing it was Sandy who had helped it, the cat put its head down. He took a chance and went to gently stroke the feline’s head. It didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps was too weak. What did surprise him was the soft purr that emanated from the ball of fluff.

 It was something to focus on as the storm raged outside, and as Pigment slept. As the hours passed and the storm settled, however… Sandy began realizing that they had no way to truly care for this cat… sure, he could medically take care of it… to a point. But there was no food and he wasn’t qualified to care for a cat… but he knew someone who could.

 Pigment awoke to find himself alone on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. He whined a little. This always happened! He couldn’t blame Sandy, things needed to be done while he slept… but just once he’d like to wake up with him…

 As he sat up to look for him, he realized that he wasn’t far this time, holding something wrapped in a blanket…

 Right! The cat! He was embarrassed that he had forgotten. He shot up, forgetting that he wasn’t in his own clothes as well, and tripping over the baggy pants he insisted he wore, despite the fact that Sandy’s spare shirts were almost down to his knees…

 “Mornin’ sunshine,” Sandy smiled at Pigment as he blushed.

 “Is the cat all right?” he tried to distract from his own embarrassment.

 “Better than I hoped… not truly tainted… and friendly, despite that…”

 “But..?” he pressed, knowing that tone.

 “I don’t think I can keep taking care of it. I’ve never really taken care of a pet before… I mean, Muffet had a pet chicken I would look at once in a while but…”

 “Muffet… had a…” Pigment had to shake his head to get himself back on track. “But you did so well, Sandy! I’m sure you can do it!”

 “I could probably fumble my way through… but that’s not fair to this little one… not when we know someone who could do much better than I could.”

 Pigment blinked, then smacked his forehead. “Ccino!”

 Sandy couldn’t help but chuckle softly. He had the cutest reactions. “So get dressed, we should probably go and take it to someone who actually knows cats.”

 “Yeah, could probably tell us if it’s a boy or girl too so we can stop calling it “it”.”

 The alchemist snickered and held his tongue so his boyfriend would focus on getting dressed. He had already gotten back into his classic clothes, not that his clothes were much different from one another.

 Pigment cut open a portal with his giant pallet knife into the fabric of reality itself. It was still as strange to Sandy as he first saw it, the concept of it all anyway… however, he was well versed by now and knew well of what the multiverse could offer… this was just one of those things you had to learn to accept.

 As they crossed into the portal and appeared on the other side, they were welcomed by a familiar, friendly voice.

 “Pigment, Sandy! Welcome back!” he said enthusiastically.

 Ccino was always glad to see his friends. They were good for business too, as Sandy spent so much gold on coffee and coffee beans for the road. He missed them when they traveled the multiverse…

 His attention was quickly grabbed by the blanket in Sandy’s arms, however. He knew that shape better than anyone. In a moment, the coffee in his hands were put down and he ran over.

 “What’s this?” he had to ask, curiously.

 “We found a cat!” Pigment exclaimed.

 Ccino’s eyes lit up for a moment, before he was sobered by Sandy’s explanation of the situation, “It’s pretty badly hurt… I can only do so much medically…”

 “I’m not a vet,” Ccino quickly fretted, catching onto Sandy’s inflection.

 “But you do know cats!” Pigment pipped up.

 “A lot more than I do,” Sandy smiled softly at their friend. “I was hoping you’d help us nurse them back?”

 The sweater-clad skeleton looked up at the other two. “So you… wanna stay and work together?”

 “Absolutely!” Pigment grinned. “And then we can keep it!”

 “Minty…”

 “Aw, please, Sandy? With minty leaves on top?”

 “We don’t have a place for a cat.”

 “Your house?” he tilted his head.

 “We travel too much.”

 “You can always bring it back here, I’ll cat-sit,” Ccino offered with a grin.

 “See?”

 Sandy glanced between the two, before letting out a defeated sigh. “I’ll think about it…”

 “Yay!!” Pigment wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, barely missing the cat.

 “Well,” Ccino chuckled, “How about we check out this little fluffball, huh?”

 “Careful, it still has some taint on it.”

“What?” Ccino blinked.

 “We’ll explain as we go through,” Pigment smiled as the three walked into the back.

[lil-writer-cosmic]

Missing weapons

Loki x reader

Warnings: bad language.. I guess

Author’s note: Wrote this a few years ago. I posted it on another account of mine, so here it is on this one :) let me know what you think !

Prompt: Do you really want to argue with me ? Bad choice.

Loki has never been someone easy to talk to. Thor knows this better than anyone. When they were little, they never really had real discussions, Loki finding them boring, uninteressing, a waste of time. When it comes to argument, it’s the same, except that it always ended with a knife deep in Thor’s chest. Now that they are grown-ups, or are supposed to be, nothing has changed. Loki discovered the silent treatment, learned more tricks to disappear in the middle of heated talks, perfected his facial expressions to use fewer words and trained himself to stab faster. Because words convey emotions. And emotions are not for the god of mischief, the frost giant. Emotions are not for Loki. But he is one kind of person to attract problems. He creates them, he plans them. They grow in his mind and come out of his mouth like the air he breaths. Yes, Loki is a master at getting in trouble and at escaping the talks that come after those. Fortunately for his habits, he met you. And you don’t like to argue with people.

«Loki !»

Your loud voice could be heard by anyone in the building. In the room next to yours, the avengers were already exchanging annoyed looks, all of them waiting to see what he had done this time. Did he turn your TV into a big frog ? Did he steal all your socks ?

«Loki ! Where is he ?»

The doors flung open as you entered the room, already sighing of exasperation. It was a rather calm period for the Avengers. The supervillains were obviously taking long naps, probably dreaming about taking the world in their hands and crushing it. And the Avengers were all bored. Not really bored, useless. But Loki was the one bored, since he is practically always useless or doing bad things. When Loki is bored, stuck in a building with only good people, with good intentions, it is normal that he played tricks on everyone. Lame tricks these days, but still.

«What did he do this time ?»

«He took my weapons. This f-»

A scoff interrupted you before you could disrespect the Asgardian. Loki, in all his glory, was standing right behind you, all the way across the room, a smug look on his face. Your blood was already boiling in your veins as you stared at him. He must have been patiently waiting for you to discover his new trick.

«Give them back.»

«Maybe tomorrow.» 

The way he looked at his nails like a teenage boy made your internal temperature rise.

«I need them to train with Natasha in an hour. Please, just give them back.»

«Sorry, can’t do this.»

You had fought so hard to be an Avengers. You had worked so hard to not get killed through each mission. You desperately needed to be better, faster, stronger. And this wasn’t helping. You asked more than once to put him in a cell or to get rid of him but Thor wasn’t okay with that.

«Loki.»

 You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. This guy has the ability to make you angry in no time.

«Please. I need to train.»

«Obviously.»

He laughed a little. At this moment, you wished that you were Banner to turn green, grab his ankle and smash him against the ground. But Tony wouldn’t like to have his tower demolished. And you just don’t have the ability to do so.

«If I don’t train properly, I can’t fight properly. If I can’t fight properly, I can’t be useful. Just stop your game.»

Your blood was absolutely boiling at his lack of reaction, like lava running through your veins. Oh, how nice it would be to see Loki in a pool of lava. No more tricks. Just no more Loki. 

«Fu- If I don’t train, I can die ! Do you want me to die ?»

As he opened his mouth to probably say something not nice, you raised your hand, ordering him not to speak.

«Tut ! Don’t answer, I don’t want you to answer ! Just give me the weapons back for fuck sake ! It’s not that complicated !»

You were aware that you could have just ignored him and it would have made him angry. That way, his trick would have been useless. But you weren’t the wise one in here.

«I really am trying my best to stay calm and nice and to discuss with you. Do you want to negociate ? I can tell you where are all of Tony’s tools !»

«Hey !» Tony said, finally paying attention to the fight.

«Just turn them into flowers, snakes, whatever you want but give me my stuff back !»

In a second, one of your missing weapons appeared in his hand. It was a small blade, the one usually around your thigh or on your back. A nice weapon, light and easy to use, to throw, to put in someone’s belly. Why not his ? He played with it in silence. That was clearly a provocation.

«You really want to argue with me ? Bad choice.»

You hissed through your greeted teeth. It was only a matter of seconds before the knife you suddenly threw struck the wall as it flew right through Loki’s trick. He stood there, mouth hanging open at your sudden change of behavior and your ability with blades, the illusion getting back together where the knife broke it.

«She just tried to stab me.»

«Don’t be overdramatic brother, you’re not even here.» said Thor as he threw a plastic bottle at him in a nonchalant movement.

«She does not know that.»

On this, you took big, loud and angry steps, grabbed your blade stuck in the wall, took the other one in your shoe and stormed out of the room.

«LOKI ! YOU BETTER COME OUT NOW.»

[sithsecrets]

Shock and Awe

May I request a Kylo fic in which he meets the reader, who is nobility on her home planet, and is smitten after he sees her skills on the battlefield? It can be however fluffy/angsty/etc as you want! Thank you so much! I love your fics!

Hello! I hope it’s okay to request, it not please ignore haha! I was wondering if you could write about the reader being like a new inquisitor or something like that and she’s super badass and Kylo is falling hard but he doesn’t know how to talk to her bc ~inexperience~. Thank you so much I love your writing!! I was hooked on Empress and check everyday to see if you updated hehe. Thank you for blessing us with your writing!!!!❤️

May I request Kylo Ren (pre TFA, before he was Supreme Leader) courting the reader who is royalty from a First-Order-occupied planet? You can make it as floofy or as smutty as you want! Thank you!!!

This fic is based of the above asks!

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Enamored with a fearsome, clever princess, Kylo Ren makes an auspicious alliance.

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1.4k words

Mentions: violence, gore, swearing

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Kylo is in awe of you from the moment he lays eyes on you.

The first time the two of you meet, the both of you are caked in blood and gore, fresh from fighting the Resistance. He’s watched you take down men twice your size, watched you tear through flesh and bone as if it were nothing to you. You kill without mercy, without regard for your enemies or who they are, and watching you slaughter person after person gives Kylo the most delicious chills he’s ever felt.

It is only after the fight, when all of your shared adversaries lay slain, that Kylo finds out who you are.

“I’ve never known a princess capable of slaughtering so many people at once,” Kylo tells you, and he cannot help but be transfixed by how beautiful you are, even caked in dirt and the very lifeforce of your victims.

You laugh at Kylo’s statement, saying that he and his men are welcome to convoy back to your palace with you, and the look in your eyes tells him that perhaps he has missed something. A joke, maybe? He’s always been awful with those, so he doesn’t take it too hard.

Back at the palace, Kylo only falls more and more in love with you with every passing minute. He comes to find out that you are a staunch diplomat, a real cutthroat negotiator. You tell several men from prominent planet not yet under the Order’s control to fuck off when they say something that offends you, and two more parties of hopeful ambassadors are soon bent to your will with little more than a smirk and a minute amount of compromise on your part. As he watches, Kylo grows almost jealous of your prowess. Fear has always been his go-to tool for forging connections, but you are a master craftsman when it comes to forming relationships, even with people you seemingly hate! Everyone wants to be on your good side, and it is obvious that your having your friendship is very advantageous for all parties involved.

And though Kylo does not want to be uncouth or simple-minded, he cannot help himself from acknowledging that you are enchanting. He is transfixed by you, by your beauty, and he wants nothing more than for you to take notice of him in a similar way. If Kylo were every given the privilege of being the object of your most intimate affections, he doesn’t know what he would do with himself! And stars, does it make him jealous, watching how men and women alike absolutely fling themselves at you. They shower you in jewelry and dresses and perfume, in promises of wealth and great power, and yet it seems as if you are not flattered by any of it. You always thank these hopeful suitors of yours, accepting their gifts graciously, but you never heed to their advances, never let them in close to you. In a disheartening revelation, Kylo supposes that this must mean you are otherwise attached, perhaps in secret, for you are unmarried and do not openly show off a partner. Of course, he is envious of this mysterious lover of yours beyond belief, but fair is fair— if someone managed to capture your affections before Kylo or someone else could, then they must be an exemplary person indeed.

So, Kylo continues on with the tasks he’s been given, following Supreme Leader Snoke’s directions to the letter. And, as he strikes down enemies and puts the fear of the Order into more than one diplomat, he spends any free moment he has marveling at you from afar. He thinks you can sense his interest in you, but it’s only a guess. Kylo likes to think that some of the smiles you send his way are a little more than friendly, but really, what does he know about things like this? It’s been so long since he spent time with a woman in such a fashion, and even longer since he attempted to date anyone. Kylo knows that he’s gifted in many ways, but he won’t profess to be proficient in the realm of romantic relationships.

After a few days, Kylo’s ready to give up on the whole concept of capturing your affections… until you corner him in the palace gardens.

He’s minding his business amongst the blooms and grasses, reading over some material about a distant planet, when you appear in front of him. Of course, you’re draped in a beautiful, rich gown, and the mere of sight you takes Kylo’s breath away. He begins to ask you how you are, but you seem bent on not wasting time with pleasantries.

“Do you like me?” you ask, and there is a curious look in your eyes that makes Kylo want to choose his words with the utmost care.

“I… Yes, of course. You have been a most wonderful partner in these negotiations. You are a very competent ruler, and the Order is very pleased with your performance.” You sit down across from Kylo in the other little chair that matches the one his, now seemingly keenly interested.

“I didn’t ask what the Order thought of me. I know that I’ve served them well,” you state, and there’s that confidence that Kylo loves so much. “I asked if you like me. Though perhaps that’s a childish way of putting it. Really, I’m asking you if you have feelings for me.” You quirk one perfect eyebrow in Kylo’s direction, and he feels as if he may pass out.

“Well, I— What do you mean?” Kylo stammers, though he knows perfectly well what you’re asking.

Had he really been so obvious?

“Do you think I’m pretty, Kylo?” you ask, apropos of nothing, and Kylo does his best to control his urge to get up and flee, to avoid this whole interaction entirely. You must think Kylo’s taking too long to answer, because you barrel on, saying, “It’s all right if you do. If I’m being honest, I find you rather handsome.”

You give Kylo’s body a lazy onceover, and the look in your eyes is enough to make his face burn.

Embolden by your compliment, Kylo decides that perhaps it is safe to tell the truth. “I think you are quite beautiful,” Kylo admits, earning himself one of your coy little smirks, “but I am just one of your many admirers. It seems that everyone we’ve met with this week wants to capture your affections.”

Though Kylo tries to swallow it down, just a tinge of jealousy seeps into his voice during the last bit of his speech. That seems to please you, though, for your smirk broadens into something more of a satisfied smile.

“Yes, many people want to be close to me,” you affirm, but it doesn’t seem to be with any pride or arrogance. Cutting your eyes towards Kylo suddenly, you settle back in your chair. “Is that what you want, too, Kylo? My affections?”

“You wouldn’t want to be with someone like me, Princess,” Kylo says to you, conscious of himself. “You would like someone more entertaining, I think, someone who it better at making friends.”

A scoff, and then you’re standing up as if you aim to leave. “I have plenty of court jesters already, Kylo Ren. I have no intentions of taking on another.” You pause and cock your head, allow your eyes to skim over Kylo’s face. “I want someone who doesn’t need my help, someone who knows what they want. I have come to realize that many of the people who throw themselves at me so violently are just leeches looking for a powerful, influential person to draw energy from.”

“I understand,” Kylo says companionably, because he does. He may not have many close friends or a lover, but that’s not to say that people haven’t tried to latch onto him before.

“If I were to give you my heart, would you make sure that none of those parasites ever got anything I wasn’t willing to give?”

Kylo is in love with you. He is in love with that calculating, mischievous glint in your eye. You are a true terror, he thinks, a force to be reckoned with.

He locks eyes with you, deadly serious. “If it would please you to be rid of them, all you would have to do is say so.”

For the first time, you grace him with a true, wide, bright smile.

“Finally,” you say, and you sound so, so pleased, “someone who understands what I want.”

[numberonetyrantwonderland]

Summary: 

“You’ve seen my work?”

“I see everything, Michael Jones, “

Michael Jones is contacted by The Fakes for a potential offer he is unsure if he could refuse.

Word Count:

4121

Lifesaver. The word repeats in his mind like a joke. She had sounded so relieved to see him, relieved to see an electrician. Certainly not a lifesaver. Eagerly let a stranger inside her home for something she could have easily fixed herself. Having money meant she could easily spend it, have someone do things she didn’t want to do. It was his job, however, even if it wouldn’t pay nearly enough. 

Los Santos is dangerous. Yet she leads him into the problem room, leaving him after a few gentle words of small talk. Leaving him alone in her living room. It gave his eyes some time to linger. Glancing over all the expensive looking junk. Junk that could easily be swiped for extra cash. 

In this city, grabbing an apartment like this meant you had money. Large open windows viewing the disaster of a city. Pristine white walls with a few square pictures portraying leafy green scenes. One wall a light wood, holding a TV in the middle. Decently dark wood floors with the contrasting white couches and a white rug in the center. Sitting on the rug was a light wood coffee table with two levels just slightly askew. Glittering in the sunlight, what caught his prying eyes. A small golden bear statue. It couldn’t be expensive, but someone would surely buy it for more than he would be paid today. 

As he begins to wrap up, a hand reaches out to gently take the decoration, stuffing it in his tool bag. Hopefully, it wouldn’t get too scuffed up. With those thoughts, the bag is zipped up with no words. Grabbing the handles and standing. 

“Ah! Finished already?” a soft voice spoke behind him. She didn’t sound cross or suspicious, meaning she didn’t see what had just happened. However, his heart still beat loudly in his chest, pounding through his head and causing his stomach to flip. He turns slowly, the woman looking at him with bright eyes and her hand outstretched with money. She wouldn’t miss it. Simply wonder where the thing had run off to, but ultimately shrug it off. She misplaced it. She could buy a new one. Throw around more money. “Thank you so much, “ her voice trails off as she tries to remember his name.

Giving her no time to ask, he moves forward and grabs the money. “Michael Gaerity, “ he says with a forced smile. The fake name he used for every job, avoiding Jones. Avoiding anyone recognizing him. Without waiting for any more small talk, Michael leads himself to the exit. She follows soundlessly, closing the door as he leaves. 

The hallways bared the same image as the apartment. Clean. Modern. Expensive. He wanted nothing more to do with this place. Moving with only the gentle taps of his shoes against the floor, towards the elevator. Once inside, he pushes the lobby button multiple times until the doors fully closed, stepping back and waiting. Instead of going all the way down, the elevator dings and opens halfway through. It lets on a skinny looking man. Stopping as the doors open, he runs his fingers through his dark blond hair. His hand moves down his face for a minute, Michael noting his unfortunate large nose. Eyes shift on him with an intent Michael couldn’t read. The gaze takes the former aback slightly, making him uncomfortably shift closer to the wall to allow more room. He enters, eyes moving from Michael’s curly brown hair to his electrician uniform. 

Only a few seconds pass, the doors close, and the air becomes tighter. Michael’s stomach twists tightly. The grip on his bag tightens. Thoughts roll through his head as the elevator takes its time. If the kid tried anything, he could take him. On jobs, Michael never took his knife, suddenly regretting that decision now. Usually, the jobs he took were pretty safe and he didn’t need to defend himself too harshly. His fists could certainly be enough on the scrawny excuse of man though. Michael looks towards him again, eyes still strongly adhered to him. 

“I could kill you right now, “ he threatens before he could stop himself. The words were spat like poison, accompanied by the slight twitch of his arms, hands balled into tight fists. Eyes on him were unmoving despite the threat, they almost shown with amusement. Suddenly a smile formed on the other’s lips. A smug expression causing more anger to bubble in Michael’s chest. 

“I’m sure you could, “ he finally says, a strong British accent pushing through. His hands reach into his pockets. Michael tenses up. Golden rimmed sunglasses make their way to Michael’s sight as he watches him put them on in a fluid motion. The elevator door opens as if the result of such action. Bright sunlight filters through quickly. 

Michael pushes past the other, moving swiftly out and towards the glass doors of the lobby. The exit. In a few seconds, he was out on the sidewalk, moving towards his beat down car. Tossing in his tool bag, cringing only slightly as he remembered what he had still in it, before getting in. A sense of dread rolls over Michael for a few moments, his eyes wandering back towards the building. He searches for the stranger, almost relieved not to see him. He was out of trouble for at least today.

The drive home was slow. Once outside the rundown apartment buildings, almost the exact opposite of where he was only a few minutes ago, Michael gets out, grabbing the tool bag and other belongings. The muggy air of the lobby greeted him as he entered, turning to take the stairs. Inside his apartment was no better, though more tidy and neat.

Michael bitterly noted the size of his small studio apartment compared to the lovely home he was just in. Huffing slightly as he set his bag on the counter, opening it and taking out the stolen object. The golden glow brought him back to the golden glasses, the blond hair, the British accent. Something about the encounter was catching him off guard like he was supposed to know who that was. 

Groaning inwardly, Michael moves across the small room, setting the bear down on the table near his bed. Quickly shaking the thoughts from his mind, he heads into the bathroom with clothes he pulled from the drawers. He turns on the shower, getting undressed and stepping in, letting the warm water slide against his skin and wash away the day. 

The ringing of his phone on the sink causes Michael to step out of the daze, turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. A few more rings later, he answers the phone with a gruff, “Hello?”

“Took you long enough. For a second there I was gonna assume you fell off the face of the planet,” the familiar feminine voice reaches his ear. Michael lets out a small amused huff, using his free hand to begin to dry his curly brown hair. “You’ve been pushing off hanging out for weeks now, so I’m coming over with some snacks and you’re gonna deal with it,” she adds after a few seconds of silence.

Michael sighs loudly, hanging the towel he was using to dry his hair. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “But I’ve been taking a lot of jobs recently. Money is tight and all. It’s been a long day and I-”

“Nope, we’re not doing this.”

“Aria.”

“Michael! I’ll be there in ten. And for god sake, you avoiding me better not mean you’ve gotten yourself into some serious Los Santos trouble. We’ll talk more when I get there,” Aria says sternly before the soft click signals she’s hung up. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Michael lowers his phone and frowns. His friend had every right to be worried. Michael had gotten himself into plenty of physical fights before, it would admittedly be just like him to stumble into harsher crimes Los Santos had to offer. However, he couldn’t help but grow angry at her continued kindness. 

Despite that, Michael got dressed and slips out the bathroom just in time to hear the soft knock at his door. When he opens the door, the familiar bright smile greets him. Before Michael had the chance to react, she slips past him happily spewing on about what snacks she brought and what they could do. For a second the blond hair and golden glasses appear in Michael’s peripheral vision as he begins to turn around. Taking one last glance at the empty hallway, Michael shuts the door and locks it. 

As he turns around, Aria looks at him expectantly as if waiting for an answer. Michael blinks opening his mouth and closing it a few times before shaking his head. “Uhh, what?” 

The brunette rolls her eyes and turns her back towards him, taking a few snacks out of a bag she brought. “You seem caught up in something,” she hums, opening a bag of chips and jumping on his couch. 

Michael follows her slowly, ignoring the food despite his growling stomach and sitting down next to her. “It’s nothing,” he simply says which gets a noise out of the other girl with her mouth stuffed with chips. Without waiting to see what she was trying to say, Michael grabs his laptop off the table and slides it on his lap. Aria leans against his side, gazing at the screen as he pulls up a website to watch movies for free, illegally, but free. “Wanna watch this?” Michael asks, mouse hovering over a movie title.

“No. Oooh! What about that one, I’ve always wanted to watch that!”

“Absolutely not. No romance.”

“Not a romance guy? Boring.”

Minutes roll by with no movie playing and an argument breaking out as they couldn’t come to the same terms. Suddenly Michael growls and slams the laptop shut, placing it on the table aggressively. His eyes move towards the smaller human with a fire lit. “Why are you here?” Michael asks, a bitter tone to his voice. It seems to catch the other off guard. 

“You’re my friend.”

“Hardly,” Michael bites back. The two had met on one of his jobs. Aria was friendly, chatty and took to him easily. Invited him out which Michael accepted because he didn’t want to seem rude. She was the closest thing he had to a friend honestly, however it raised a lot of questions inside his mind. He came to Los Santos to disappear. He didn’t want friends. He didn’t want enemies. Both of which he seemed to have made anyways.

“You’re my friend!” she insists. “And when my friends start to push me away and isolate themselves I get worried because I care.” Silence passes between the two for a moment. Aria shifts closer to Michael, closing the gap between them. Her eyes trying to search his for any sense of emotion. “Remember when you came to help my mom with the fuse box problem she had? You had a bunch of bruises on your face and when I asked about them you told me to fuck off,” she muses quietly. “You haven’t gotten into any trouble right?” Aria asks, looking away from him for a moment. “No drugs or gangs or that whole mess, right?”

Silence stretches between them once again, this time it was almost suffocating even to Michael. “No,” he says, the anger in his tone no longer there. “No trouble,” he repeats with a groan, brings his hands to his face and sliding them down. “I just haven’t been in the mood for talking, for being around people. Why can’t you respect that?” Michael asks, though accusing, still no hint of malice or anger. 

This time the silence only lasted a few seconds before the other stood up abruptly. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to show I care,” she says calmly, turning to face him for a moment. “When you need me, need some company, you have my number,” Aria says and offers a small smile. She turns on her heal, swiping up a bag of chips and leaving the rest of the snacks she brought as she moved for the door. “Los Santos is a big bad world, Michael. Don’t get caught up in the wrong crowd.” With those last words, she leaves. Leaves Michael alone with his thoughts and a bunch of snacks he didn’t want.

“We found him, what now?”

“We recruit him.”

“Damn aggressive that guy is.”

“And that’s why you’re going to talk to him”

“What?! You just want me to die don’t you?”

“No, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you did. Look, we take this chance, go through with this heist and benefit in not only riches, but our name being taken seriously. Los Santos won’t know what hit it. We need him.”

“Surely you would be able to convince him more than me?”

“I’d rather have him beat you up.”

“What!”

“Look, just give him the card. He calls me and I can work my magic from there. The kid is struggling with what? Money. Mention the money. Get him intrigued. Curious. Get to work.”

The sun began to set, filtering in a warm orange hue into the small room. Light stretches across the floor and taunts Michael with a happy dance. Suddenly the silence overtakes him and he stands. In an instant he was putting away the leftover snacks Aria brought and grabbing his keys and phone. He leaves his apartment, locking the door and jogging down the stairs. Air. He needed air. 

Michael felt as if he was suffocating in the small apartment, stuck on the words from Aria, stuck on questions and worries and anger. He didn’t want to worry the young woman, but he also didn’t want her around. He was perfectly content being by himself. It was better that way surely. Yet he still didn’t keep his enemy percentage down either. There were plenty of people he has fought that would be more than happy to start more trouble with him. One thing Aria was right about, he needed to stay away from Los Santo troubles. Something deep in his stomach knotted at that thought, an uneasy feeling.

As he gets to the lobby, the familiar stranger causes him to stop in his tracks. The golden glasses glinted in his direction as if to taught him. His skin was tanned and seemed to almost glow in the warm light of the sunset. Averting his eyes quickly, Michael begins to walk again, moving past the other man swiftly. Footsteps ring behind him after a few moments and a heavy hand grips his shoulders. Michael growls audibly, moving out of reach of the touch whilst turning around. 

“Gavin.”

That caught him off guard, causing only one stupid word to tumble from his jaws, “What?” 

The other man, Gavin presumably, huffs slightly as if the entire situation was funny. “The name’s Gavin Free you twit, “ he repeats, though with more annoyance, still a gentle and playful twinge. He didn’t give Michael any time to answer before he pulled out a small card, a grin breaking through his face. “Give us a call, yeah? I’ve seen your handy work, “ Gavin says, holding out the paper as he continued. “Not to mention, you’re quite the character.” 

Hesitation plagues Michael as they stand in the middle of the lobby. People pass, saying nothing, noticing nothing. Here was a man he’s met only once before, but still presented as a stranger to him, speaking of his work. Admittedly, he couldn’t rule out working for one of his friends. However, the odd feeling clung to his stomach. Refused to let go. Leaving Gavin holding his arm out expectantly, Michael takes another step back. 

“You’ve seen my work?”

“I see everything, Michael Jones, “ he says in a hushed tone, Michael’s name rolling off his lips with a smirk. It made the other freeze, hands clenched once more into fists. Gavin moves forward, slipping the card in a pocket on his shirt. Suddenly, Michael had his free hand curled around the collar of Gavin’s shirt, pulling him closer to his face. 

Mere inches apart, brows furrowed, mouth open in almost a snarl. “Excuse me?” he whispers in a low voice. A small squawk exits the mouth of the British man, Michael stares at himself as the glasses hide Gavin’s eyes.  It only fueled the situation. His fingers wrapped tighter around the fabric.

“Trust me, you don’t want to pass this up boi, “ Gavin says in a whisper. “We’ve got work for you, that pays well. “ At the mention of money, Michael lets his grip loosen slightly. Before he could ask exactly how much they were talking, the man struggles free and smooths out his shirt. Michael blinks as Gavin begins to make his way towards the exit. “Call the number on the card, “ he waves over his shoulder as he talks. A few seconds pass before Gavin finally leaves. Leaves Michael in the middle of the lobby with a strange card in his shirt. 

Finally, he takes it out, mulling over it with seething eyes. It was a simple black card with a green logo at the top middle. Directly below that read ‘The Fakes’. The Fakes. It wasn’t something that clearly rang bells, but Michael was sure he heard the stupid name before. 

“All done. Didn’t get my face smashed in!”

“That’s a shame.”

“Came pretty close to it though. Fire burns in that bois eyes.”

“Great, just the kind of fire we need.”

“How long do you think it will take before he calls?”

“Let’s hope soon.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“We send you again.”

“You just want to see him punch me.”

“Maybe.”

The Fakes. It started with small things: pickpocketing and robbing convenience stores. It started with two people: Geoff Lazer Ramsey and Jack Shannon Pattillo. Ramsey, The Kingpin. Ink deep within his skin, running along his arms and littering down his hands and onto his fingers. His face, so recognizable with the almost stereotypical cartoon mustache sitting on his face. Pattillo, The Second. Her ruby red hair and bad bitch vibes made her stand just as high as Kingpin. Almost a year later and their crimes started to become more extreme. Killing people and robbing bigger, badder places. Around these times, rumors spread of their secret Golden Boy. Soon enough, Gavin Free was confirmed to be apart of their crime group. His blond hair, golden glasses, and generally glowing vibe made him truly a mystery to behold. They began to call themselves The Fakes, and the group clearly has no intent to stop growing.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Michael sat on his couch with his laptop on the table, the bright light from the screen gently cascading upon his face. The darkness of the room surrounded the rest of him. Too many tabs were open, littered across his browser with questions and news articles. The soft light made the card in his hand barely readable, however, Michael knew exactly what was on it.

His fingers gently rub across the green logo The Fakes had come to take on. Slowly they slide across the name, then the number. The Golden Boy had stood in his presence, had so boldly made himself known. To Michael. To Michael of all people. There was no doubt that Gavin had the skills as a hacker, seemingly finding his name and location with what truly felt like no problems. The golden child had not been talking about Michael’s skills as an electrician, that was fairly obvious at this point. Michael had tried so hard to erase all of who he used to be, what he had gotten into, and it was resurfacing. 

It was The Fakes fault.

One question continued to plague his mind. Why him? Why Michael Jones? There was no doubt he used to be good at what he did, but it has been years. Los Santos was home to so many active criminals, there surely had to be someone who harbored the skills that Michael had. So, why of all people had they tracked down him? He wasn’t that Michael anymore, he was an electrician who did cheap work.

Perhaps, though, he wasn’t too far from who he once was. Brown eyes gently slide across the almost pitch-black room. They settle on the dark figure of the golden bear he stole. He stole. He fought. He would steal from the homes of almost all the people he worked for. He was still a criminal even if it wasn’t as bad. 

Michael stands, setting down the card that was in his hands and moved swiftly towards the bear. His hand wraps around it, bringing it closer to his body as his blank stare looked over the object. This was different. This was survival. What he did before wasn’t survival. What The Fakes no doubtably wanted him to do wasn’t survival. 

Minutes pass, Michael, standing in the darkness, light sliding over his back where his computer shown, a card in the center of his keyboard. His knuckles were growing white before he realized just how hard he was holding the thing. Suddenly, anger ripped through his chest. It took everything inside him not to throw the statue across the room and hear it shatter with a satisfied grin. A growl emanates from his chest as he places it down and moves back across the room.

A few seconds later, he had the card in his hand and his phone in the other. Fingers hovering over the numbers, head pounding as Michael battles over if he was going to call. If he was going to give in. The computer screen turning black brings Michael back to his senses, the darkness taking over. His fingers type a number and hold the phone to his ear as it rings.

“Michael?” the gentle voice of his friend washes over him, making him let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Her voice sounded groggy and sleepy, causing Michael to frown and glance at the time. Midnight. “Is everything okay?” Aria asks, sounding a little more awake and concerned. Michael opens his mouth to speak, however, the words catch in his throat and suffocate him. Silence passes between them. “Do you need me to come over? Are you in trouble?” Aria asks, a shuffling heard on the other end.

Finally, the words stumble out of his mouth. “No, I’m okay. I’m..” his voice trails off, it sounded strained, not like him. Shuffling on the other end stops. “What do you know about The Fakes?” Michael whispers, leaning back against the couch, putting his other arm across his head and closing his eyes. 

“Wh- The Fakes? Like the gang?” confusion emanates from the phone as Aria shifts again. “Why are you asking me about The Fakes? What did you do?” Aria demands suddenly. The change in her tone makes Michael open his eyes, staring into the darkness for a minute. 

“Nothing. I didn’t- ah I didn’t do anything,” he growls the last part slightly. “I just saw something on the news and did some research and I- its late, I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence. Michael was starting to dislike silence. He wanted to go back to before he called and put down his phone. He shouldn’t have called her. Aria needed to know nothing about any of this. Yet, for some reason, he did call her. What he wanted, he was unsure, but fear bubbled in his stomach at the thought of hanging up, being left alone again. 

“I know that The Fakes are a small gang in Los Santos that has been doing increasingly worse crimes as the years go on. I know that there are three people involved. I don’t know their names, but one has a mustache, one has red hair, and one wears ridiculous golden glasses,” Aria says quietly. Michael chuckles at the last part in a bittersweet way. The golden glasses were going to haunt his every move. “I know that they are very bad people Michael.” The smile fades from his lips as she continues. “Don’t get yourself wrapped up in things you’re going to regret,” Aria whispers. 

The card seems to gleam in the darkness, taunting him as Aria speaks softly to him. 

“Michael?”

“Aria?” Michael’s voice was strained, almost breathless as his eyes bore into the flimsy paper on his laptop.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise.” he lied.

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 200: Prelude to a Curse

Mephisto appeared in Nephilim and chuckled, as the two souls that had been harvested for him by his new charge coward as he passed by. His features twisted from its human appearance to one of pure demonic terror, causing the newly expired people to cry out in fear. He cackled and continued on toward Master Seth's Throne room. He had missed being able to terrorize the dearly departed and was finding great satisfaction in getting to do it again. His newest demon seemed only too eager to do as he asked in exchange for the powers to pursue the lovely Snow White. Though the man was supposedly some sort of genius, his obsession made him blinded to Mephisto's true goals and an all too easily malleable tool in his conquest.

He had told the doctor that he planned to capture the souls of Snow White's family in order to force her to sell her soul to him in exchange for their freedom. But he had no intention of ever letting a single soul go, especially if he managed to get any of the children conceived of this supposed incredible truest love. To be honest though, the parent's souls were the true prize. Because of their shared heart and this incredible love, if he captured one of their souls, he would automatically have the other by default. They were one, two halves of one whole and forcing their souls into his servitude would be quite the victory. He looked around. Yes, he was eager to fill the fallen realm with many, many souls of the people of the United Realms.

"So...you released Dr. Jekyll from the netherworld. Are you sure that's wise?" the Evil Queen questioned, as she strode toward the demon Lord.

"Are you concerned about poor little Snow White?" Mephisto countered.

"No, I'm concerned, because Jekyll is a loose canon. He has a history of finding a way to use science to circumvent magic," she retorted.

"I am inclined to concur with the Queen. I do not like the unpredictability that this move injects into my plan," Seth stated.

"I have complete control over the doctor," Mephisto claimed.

"Did you not just hear me? Whatever control you think you have may not last," the Queen warned.

"And if he destroys the Charmings...isn't that the overall goal?" Mephisto questioned.

"But he won't and he may unknowingly aid their victory by pushing them to realize new levels of power," Seth argued, as he approached and Mephisto was suddenly holding his head in excruciating pain.

"You have forgotten who is truly in charge here," he hissed.

"You may have formerly run your own realm, Mephisto...but this is my realm! I am your ruler," Seth warned.

"Yet you are scared of these Charmings! Especially their stupid brats!" Mephisto hissed and then found himself being flung across the room and painfully into the wall.

"I fear no one, you insignificant peon!" Seth growled.

"I can melt your mind and turn you into a puddle of goo with just a thought!" he hissed.

"But if you really need proof of my power...then you'll have it! They will all have it!" he said. The Evil Queen swallowed thickly and felt fear knot in her stomach, as she knew his anger would mean danger for her grandchildren.

~*~

"If it is Mephisto...there's a way to know. Call your guy," Fandral said. David nodded and dialed the number, as he waited for Bashful to answer.

"Hey Bashful...I know you're just getting started, but I have a gut feeling that I know who might have done this and Fandral has some insight. I'm going to let you talk to him," David said, as he handed the phone to his counterpart.

"Bashful...I want you to look on the back of the neck, along the hairline of the victims," Fandral instructed.

"Oh my God...there is something. It's a tattoo...it's tiny, but it looks like a snake or something," Bashful said. Fandral sighed.

"It's not a tattoo, but rather a brand. It's his sign and evidence that these souls now belong to him," he replied, as he handed the phone back to David.

"Go ahead and do a full autopsy, but I have a feeling there will be no definitive cause of death. But let me know," David said, as he hung up.

"So he did do this," David surmised.

"No...someone else did it for him. He has picked a consort. A desperate soul," Fandral said.

"Who would be desperate enough to do his evil bidding?" David wondered.

"Someone who wants something so badly that they are willing to do whatever necessary in exchange for what they desire most. They will kill without thought for the power to have what they want," Fandral told him. David's brow furrowed and he looked around the diner.

"And what power is this person given?" he asked.

"The powers that most demons have. Possession is not beyond them, though they avoid magic users or those like you that use an indirect type of magic like the chalice," Fandral said.

"So...he could be here," David said, as his eyes suddenly widened in realization and the hair stood up on the back of his neck, just as his darker half burst into the diner.

~*~

An hour earlier...

Dr. Facilier choked for air, as Charming's firm hand was wrapped around his neck and the chalice sword glowed with dangerous energy.

"Did you really think I'd ever let you get away with what you did to my wife?" he hissed, as he slammed him against the wall.

"You let your deranged grandson lock her away and force pills down her!" he growled.

"You helped the Collector keep us apart and take custody of our son," he added.

"And since he's no longer here...you get to pay in his place," he said, as he tossed him to the ground.

"I...I warn you not to toil with me…" Facilier warned, as he produced a doll from his jacket pocket. One mean to represent Snow and Winter.

"One little jab to that half heart and she'll be the one in distress...along with her counterpart," he threatened. But the doll disappeared and reappeared in Winter's hand, thanks to her use of the her wand.

"Not a very good likeness," she said, as she examined the doll and crinkled her nose.

"Of course not," Charming said, as he raised one hand to gently caress her cheek fondly.

"No likeness could capture the true scope of your incredible beauty, my darling," he cooed. Facilier rolled his eyes.

"Ugh...even like this, you two idiots are nauseating," he commented. Charming leveled his sword at the man's throat.

"Reminding me of your presence is not wise, doctor," he warned.

"Our light halves showed you mercy, but from the looks of things, you're still using the dark arts to use against people," Winter said.

"I make deals, not unlike Rumpelstiltskin. Sometimes the deals do not work out for my patrons," Facilier argued.

"I know...I was on the receiving end of one of your deals!" Winter snapped furiously.

"Your grandson locked me away! His henchmen manhandled me on a nightly basis! They forced pills down me and tore me away from my family!" she cried in anguish.

"Say the word, my sweet Winter...and he shall draw his last breath," Charming promised, as he poised his sword to strike.

"Death is much too good for him, my love," she replied. He smirked.

"I am inclined to agree and I think I may know something quite fitting if you'll let me borrow your wand," he said. She smirked and handed it to him.

"What's mine is yours, my husband," she said, as she gazed up at him excitedly.

"What are you going to do to him?" she asked in anticipation.

"I'm going to make sure he's in no position to ever hurt anyone again, including you, my darling," he promised, as he waved the wand. Facilier cried out, as the magic hit him and Winter gasped, as she saw what was now in his place. A green, slimy frog chirped before them and hopped away into the bayou.

"Oh Charming...it's the perfect revenge," she gushed, as she kissed him passionately.

"I thought so...your poetic revenge against Rodmilla Tremaine inspired me to come up with this for Dr. Facilier," he said. She bit her bottom lip, suddenly very eager to be somewhere alone with him, and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I love it...and later, I'm going to show you how much. But for now, I really don't like it here in this musty swamp," she said.

"Say no more, my darling," he replied, as he used the wand to return them to Main street.

"Perhaps you'd like to pay our next victim a visit? Drizella Tremaine, the one from our land that is, deserves a fitting punishment for what she tried to do to us," he mentioned. She hooked her arm on his elbow and nodded, as they strolled together along the quiet streets of Storybrooke.

"I still can't believe my light half let her off so easily after what she tried to do to you. I am going to make her regret even daring to touch what is mine," she said, as she looked at her husband. He smirked.

"I can't wait to see that," he said, as they shared a devious smile and then she noticed that his sword had started to glow.

"Charming…" she said, motioning to it. He looked a little confused and touched the hilt, clearly receiving a warning message from it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's the chalice...or at least my half of it, warning me against a danger to you," he replied, with trepidation.

"What danger?" she asked, but he took her hand and pulled her along toward Granny's diner, before bursting into the establishment.

"What are you doing?" David asked his counterpart sternly.

"He's here…" Charming hissed and his other half furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Snow...can I get you a refill?" Happy asked, as he approached her. She was about to answer when the cheerful dwarf was peeled away from her. The chalice sword glowed, as Charming leveled his blade at the shorter man.

"What are you doing?" Snow asked in alarm.

"He is not what he seems," Charming answered, as David sided up to her and Winter gently put her hand on her husband's arm.

"Charming...what is it?" she asked.

"Don't you see, Snow? Oh, I'm sorry...Winter," Happy corrected.

"He's had one too many hits to that pretty head," the dwarf joked derisively.

"Excuse me?" Winter asked dangerously.

"Happy…" Snow started to question, as she had never seen such malice on the face of her normally cheerful friend. He grimaced at the light of the chalice sword though and his eyes glowed yellow.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Emma questioned.

"Your friend Happy has been possessed...by a demon," Fandral realized.

"Give it up, demon...I know Mephisto's work when I see it," the Asgardian added. Snow gasped again, as an ethereal figure exited Happy's body and solidified in his true form before them. She shook her head in vehemence.

"No…" she uttered.

"Oh yes, dear Snow...I have been freed of that prison you and your husband trapped me in," Jekyll hissed, as his eyes raked over her and then to Winter.

"My, my, this is quite enthralling," he said, as he approached her, but that was a mistake. Charming grabbed him around the neck and sent him crashing through the window of the diner. Jekyll stood up and his arms and neck glowed orange with the new demonic power given to him by Mephisto.

"You're not the only one with strength and power now, Charming," Jekyll hissed, as glowing, fiery chains appeared in his hands and he whipped them toward the other man.

"Holy crap…" Emma gaped, as she watched her father's darker half dodge the hot iron chains. Jekyll began to show off with his new powers by using them to destroy things around him. The light pole sparked, as he burned right through it and Doc nearly had a heart attack when his chains cut his Maserati in half.

"My car…" he uttered, as Jekyll chuckled in amusement.

"I hope you have insurance," he joked, as he whipped them around and Charming practically tackled Winter to the ground to avoid the hot iron. He chucked again and swung the chains toward Summer. David pulled his daughter out of the way, as Snow willed her half of the chalice into her hands in the form of her gauntlets. She fired her arrows furiously at the monster.

"How dare you swing those anywhere near one of my babies!" she growled.

"Ah...there's that fire that's so exhilarating," he goaded.

"We need to rejoin the Chalice!" David called, as Winter used her wand on the monster before her, but he batted her magic away like it was nothing.

"A fairy wand...tsk tsk, my sweet. I would expect better from you. Perhaps your light half is truly superior to you," he jabbed, as Charming charged him with the chalice sword and they engaged in a furious duel. David waited for an opening and was about to draw his sword, but Snow stopped him.

"Here...take my gauntlets," she told him, as she kissed his cheek. He smiled at her and nodded, as he wielded them and joined the fray. Jekyll furiously fought them both and started to grow frustrated, as they came at him.

"Not even two of you can stop me!" he boasted, as his iron weapons flailed about, causing an incredible amount of destruction.

"We need to end this," David said.

"I know," Charming snapped at his other half. Jekyll cackled, as they both were forced to dodge his chains. Curiously though, he found the youngest Charming now standing between Charming and David.

"Well, well, boy...do you want to play too?" he asked, as he swung his chains at the boy.

"Bobby!" Snow and Winter cried together, but they wouldn't need to worry, as Jekyll was suddenly holding his head in pain, as Bobby's eyes glowed dark green with power.

"You insolent brat!" Jekyll screamed, as ground beneath him started to swallow him. Jekyll dug his way out and looked at the boy in surprise. He swung his chains, but a bubble surrounded him, protecting him from the weapons. Lightning coursed throughout his body and a large bolt struck Jekyll where he stood, leaving him charred and singed. They all stared at Bobby in shock, including Jekyll.

"Stay away...from my mom!" he screamed, as he sent a shock wave toward Jekyll with his powers.

"Guys!" Emma called, as she called her siblings and they all struck the deranged doctor with their combined powers, forcing him back.

"This isn't over!" he promised, as he looked at Snow and then disappeared. Celebration erupted from everyone around them, as Snow and David practically bowled their youngest over with hugs.

"That was amazing…" David said with pride.

"Oh baby…" Snow doted, as she ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek.

"Mom…" he complained in embarrassment, as she cuddled him.

"It would seem your powers are developing at an even more exponential rate than I thought," Rumple commented.

"You're a good teacher, Mr. Gold," Bobby told him.

"I can't believe that bastard is back," David cursed.

"And he's sold his soul to Mephisto," Fandral said.

"Does that mean he's under Mephisto's control, my love?" Rose asked.

"To a degree. Mephisto can control him. But he only requires that Jekyll collects souls for him, thus the bodies that you found earlier. As long as he meets those commitments, Mephisto is unlikely to interfere in Jekyll's other endeavors," Fandral explained.

"Jekyll is an arrogant ass though. He doesn't strike me as the type to take orders from anyone, let alone Seth," Regina said.

"Do you think the Queen might undermine him?" David asked.

"It's possible...Jekyll poses a threat to the kids. As much as she hates you and Snow...she does love them," Regina replied.

"Division in their ranks can only be good for us, right?" Leo asked.

"Perhaps...but Seth has yet to make a serious move, aside from his show of sheer devastation when he destroyed Olympus," Rumple warned.

"He's right...Jekyll ruffling Seth's feathers, so to speak, might end up with another demonstration," Aphrodite feared. Snow looked at her counterparts.

"Hyde is working on a serum to reunite us. This division has done nothing good for any of us. We need to reunite when he is finished with the serum," she pleaded.

"Why? So you can continue to push me down and act like I don't exist?" Winter hissed.

"You're right...I have done that and it wasn't right. I just know that giving into my anger and seeking revenge is never the way," Snow argued.

"Maybe, but acting like you aren't angry is wrong too...and you know it," Winter argued back.

"Maybe...but revenge isn't going to make either of you happy. We know happiness...we have it together," David said.

"Yes, until someone else comes along to tear us apart or curse us," Charming argued.

"Revenge isn't going to make you happy. I'll give you the Rodmilla Tremaine one, that was satisfying...but it won't be sustainable," David argued in return. Charming smirked.

"Oh I don't know...turning Dr. Facilier into a frog earlier was pretty damn satisfying," he retorted, as the two joined hands and disappeared with a wave of Winter's wand. Snow sighed and David took her in his arms.

"He's back…" she lamented. He kissed her hair.

"Not for long," David said, as he looked at Fandral.

"You've dealt with Mephisto's creations before. How do we kill him? And for good this time?" David asked.

"I'm not sure, short of banishing him again," Fandral responded.

"I think I might know of a way. I haven't finished reading this book yet...but it's about star gems," Rose interjected and Belle took an interest in the book in her hand, as the other woman pointed out the passage she was talking about.

"Weaponizing star gems? That's possible?" Snow asked.

"Didn't we die for like five minutes when we did that in Seattle?" David questioned.

"Your star gems were stolen. There is a difference," Rose said.

"Apollo and Artemis died when they weaponized their star gems," Aphrodite warned.

"Yes, but they weren't the truest loves, nor were they products of true love," Rose argued, as she showed Belle her notes.

"I've gotten through half of it so far," she said. Belle smiled.

"I'll take the other half and make notes as well. Then we'll know more," she agreed.

"Mmm...you'll like it. It's fascinating," Rose gushed. It was no secret that Rose and Belle shared a passion for books and had spent hours discussing them together.

"Okay...I'd say for now that we should all go home for the night. I doubt things are going to calm down around here," Regina suggested and they agreed, as she and Rumple used their magic to start fixing the damage to the diner and around them, including Doc's car.

"I'll see you bright and early for training, young one," Rumple said, as he, Belle, and Gideon disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Come on sweetie...it's way past your bedtime," Snow said, as she gathered with Summer and Bobby.

"You too, my little ones," Rose said, as her husband rounded their children up.

"We'll meet here in the morning," David said. Fandral nodded in agreement, as they all dispersed for the night.

~*~

Jekyll appeared back in Nephilim and stomped furiously around the barren landscape.

"I can't believe the nerve that little brat!" he growled.

"You're the only one with nerve," Mephisto chided, as he appeared.

"You showed your hand and foolishly gave away your element of surprise. Once again, you underestimated Snow White's husband and now her children," the demon chided.

"What do you care?" Jekyll spat.

"I fulfilled my obligation for the day and you said as long as I did that, then you cared little what else I do," the doctor added.

"But if you interfere with Master Seth's plans...then there will be a real problem," Mephisto corrected.

"I don't care about his plans!" Jekyll shouted.

"They will bend to my will! Snow will be mine!" he ranted, but then was holding his head in excruciating pain, as Seth himself approached.

"Your handler was foolish to revive you, doctor. I have little use for someone like you and I am dangerously close to doing the Charmings a favor by eliminating you from the equation. You are a nuisance I cannot afford," Seth said, as the doctor writhed in pain on the ground.

"Soon...I leave this fallen land and reclaim my birth rite atop Mount Olympus," Seth stated.

"And soon...there is to be a new curse," he added. The Queen felt a pulse of fear ripple through her and she attempted to slip away.

"You're not going anywhere, Your Majesty," Seth growled, as he froze her in place.

"This curse is happening...and you're going to cast it for me, unless you'd like something dreadful to befall the outlaw and his son," he said ominously.

"As for your...doctor, give me one good reason that I shouldn't vaporize you right here," Seth stated.

"My knowledge of science is unmatched by any other," Jekyll reminded.

"Science is of no use to me," Seth refuted.

"It could be...I know you seek to rid yourself of Snow and David's interference. I could be a handler in whatever life you give them. Placing me in a school or University would be easy," he said.

"I already have a handler. They will be under the careful watch of a mortal that will keep the prince in line, while providing him the career of his dreams, all while he enjoys a blissful life with his lovely Snow White. Meanwhile, they will never again interfere with my rule," Seth said.

"You may have a handler for him, but trust me when I say that she needs one too," Jekyll replied.

"Placing me as, say...a colleague of hers and I can make sure she is kept in line as well," the doctor added.

"You won't be able to keep your grimy hands off her, which will only cause her distress and...that could actually be favorable to us," the Queen said. Seth narrowed his eyes.

"How so?" he questioned.

"He would keep them busy and never give them time to think that anything is off. Snow and David enjoy a bit of adventure when it comes to their usual blissful coupling," she suggested.

"Fine doctor...then a handler you'll be. Until then...you will not go near her," Seth declared, as they began to prepare for a new and perhaps the most unique curse ever. Little did Seth know, the Queen had made that suggestion, because she knew Jekyll's insanity might do the opposite of what she had said and eventually wake Snow and David up, thus ensuring this curse, like all the others, would be broken with true love. But he she needed even more insurance than that and such, she would have to make a deal with their dark halves, as much as she loathed it. So she would slip away again at the first opportunity she had.

"For my grandchildren…" she murmured to herself.

"Let's hope you two idiots don't muck this up. I'm practically going to be handing you a way out," she muttered.

~*~

After seeing their two youngest off to bed, Snow and David retired to their bedroom. As he came out of the bathroom, he saw his beautiful wife of forty years, curled up by the window, looking dejected. And he hated that.

"I am such a fool…" she said and he looked horrified by that.

"You are most certainly not," he argued, as he knelt down in front of her and kissed her knee.

"You are the smartest, most beautiful, and wonderful woman I have ever known. Your capacity for love and forgiveness is unbounded," he said.

"Don't you see? That's the problem!" she cried.

"My "goodness"," she spat.

"It's the reason Jekyll is still alive," she added.

"No...we banished him. Our true love punished him for his evil and we could have never foreseen that someone we didn't even know existed then would somehow bring him back from that," he reasoned. But she didn't look very convinced.

"It's not just him though, my love. I always do this...I show mercy and then they come back to hurt us later," she said.

"There are always risks in life, Snow. But mercy is never wrong," he argued.

"How can you say that? When has mercy not screwed us over?" she questioned, but he didn't have answer.

"That's what I thought. Winter is right," she said.

"No...she's not. Revenge is never the answer. Look at how revenge destroyed Regina's life," he reminded.

"She only found love and turned her life around once she let go of her revenge," he said. She sighed, but said nothing. He was right about that and he took a moment to kiss her tenderly.

"I know it seems like the trouble never ends. I know it's one villain after another and it kills me that Jekyll is one that we still haven't shaken, because I'd give anything to make sure he never comes near you again," he told her.

"But we always win, Snow. I know what we've had to face to do it...but I wouldn't trade being with you for some safe, conventional life," he added. She smiled softly.

"Neither would I," she admitted and hummed, as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I'm sorry...I feel like I've been such a mess lately," she mentioned.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he assured.

"And you're not a mess, Snow...you're human," he reminded, as he kissed her lips.

"And you're mine," he added fondly. She smiled and bit her bottom lip. She stood up and took his hand, leading him to the bed.

"Let's go to bed," she said sultrily.

"Tired?" he teased and she gently prodded him onto the bed, before she straddled him.

"What do you think?" she asked, as their lips met again, this time with fervor and passion.

~*~

Fandral tossed and turned that night. It wasn't unusual for him to have nightmares. The events of Asgard's fall and his brush with death had often haunted him over the years. But tonight was very different.

"ROSE!" he screamed in terror, as their castle was ablaze and he searched fruitlessly through the smoke for his family.

"Fandral!" he heard her call in anguish and he rushed into the library, which was an inferno. But he cared not, as he ran through it in search of his beloved.

"Rose!" he called and this time, a laugh met his ears instead. He turned and saw her through the flames.

"It didn't have to be this way…" Amora said, as she stood there with Rose as her captive.

" .go…" he growled, as he drew his sword.

"Did you really think rejecting me would go unpunished? You know better than that, my dashing Fandral," she goaded.

"Then punish me!" he pleaded. She smirked.

"It doesn't work that way. Goodbye Rose Red…" she hissed.

"Fandral...I love you!" she called. He rushed toward them, but not in time, as Amora hurled his wife into the fire.

"NOOOOOO!" Fandral screamed, as he shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his shirtless torso and fear alight in his features.

"My love…" Rose said fearfully, as she sat up beside him, her unclothed body covered with the sheet.

"Rose…" he cried, as she found herself almost crushed, as he hugged her close.

"It's okay...it was just a nightmare," she reminded, but he shook his head.

"No...it wasn't memories of Asgard's fall this time. It was you...it was watching that demented Enchantress kill you while I could do nothing to stop it," he said in anguish.

"I am fine...and nothing is going to take me from you," she promised. But he wasn't convinced.

"Something is coming, my angel...I can feel it and I cannot lose you," he stressed.

"I know that you are steadfastly against it...but will you please reconsider going to New Asgard with the children until we deal with Seth and the Enchantress?" he asked. But she shook her head with vehemence.

"I am not leaving you and Sif to deal with this. This is our Kingdom and I have a duty to our people and my library," she refused and he sighed, but she caressed his cheek.

"I know you are scared, my love. I am too...but I trust in our love," she said, as she pressed her forehead against his.

"As do I...but she is determined to make me pay for rejecting her and the only way to truly make me pay is by hurting you. She will try to do it again," he warned.

"And you will protect me as you always have," she admonished.

"What if your faith in me is misplaced? I once failed to protect my former home...what if I fail to protect this one too?" he asked. But she shook her head and kissed him tenderly.

"You could never fail me, my warrior," she answered.

"It's almost morning...I should join the search for her," he mentioned, as he reluctantly started to get up.

"You have our entire army combing the Kingdom for her...you can join them later," she said, as she pulled him back into bed.

"Much later," she purred, as she kissed him.

"I am safest when I am in your arms, after all," she reminded, as she nuzzled her nose against his.

"I suppose I cannot argue with that," he agreed and she giggled, as he threw the bedclothes over them, giving way to the ever present passion between them.

~*~

Charming kept tossing and turning, before finally giving up on sleep. He gently pressed a kiss to Winter's head, glad that she was finally asleep, before getting up and dressing. She had been very upset after the reveal that Jekyll was back and he had, with no little effort, eventually calmed her down. It was another failure on their light halves to truly take care of the villains that continually came after them and their family. And Jekyll was arguably the worst one of all, next to Seth now. He was far too quiet and that could only mean something big was on the horizon.

"Good...maybe I'll get a bit further with you than I did with your wife," the Evil Queen said, as she appeared.

"Highly doubtful…" he growled.

"Easy...I'm not here to kill either of you. Just to warn you that Seth is moving to cast his curse," she warned.

"Then stop him! He can't cast it without you!" Charming insisted.

"Don't you think I would if that was possible? But he would think nothing of killing Robin and Roland...he's already implied that they are dead if I don't remain loyal to him," she responded.

"So as usual...you're going to screw us all over," he hissed.

"He plans to banish your light halves into happy, blissful lives and we both know that if that happens, they may never wake up from it unless we put a contingency plan into place," she said.

"No! No more curses and no more contingency plans where my children are usually the ones that pay the price!" he said sternly.

"I don't like it either, but stopping the curse at this point may not be possible.

"What do you have in mind?" he questioned.

"You and Winter must join us. Swear loyalty to Seth and keep your memories. Then we can work in the background against him," she proposed.

"He'll never believe that we're willing to work for him," Charming said.

"Unless you prove it," she replied.

"Fine and what atrocity do we have to commit to get him to believe that?" he questioned. She smirked.

"I always enjoyed your darker side…" she mentioned, as she walked to the window.

"Right now, Mephisto is Seth's right hand man, but he is quite unhappy with his recent revival of Jekyll. He sees the doctor as an unpredictable variable," she said.

"Is it possible to kill Mephisto?" Charming asked and she laughed.

"Tsk, tsk, Charming...what would your darling Snow say if she knew murder was your go to?" she chided. He smirked.

"Snow belongs to David. Winter is mine and she'd be there cheering me on, just like she did when I turned Facilier into an amphibian earlier," he retorted.

"Cute...and poetic," she complimented.

"I have my moments," he replied.

"Hmm...while killing Mephisto would be entertaining, I think bursting in and humiliating him in a battle in front of Seth in revenge for reviving Jekyll would work much better. Your need for revenge is very attractive to the Dark Lord and your power serving him will be too much to resist. And then you can still make Mephisto do most of the dirty work when he's forced to work for you," she purposed. He smirked.

"I do like that part...that demon only thinks he knows torture," Charming said, as he clenched his fist. He turned and walked toward the stairs.

"You should return to Nephilim and prepare for the show, because I'm about to be on the warpath," he said. She smirked and disappeared. Though she did not entertain working with the two idiots, their plan would ensure that the curse would break and their children would be protected.

Charming returned to their bed chambers and gazed at the beautiful vision that was his sleeping wife. He leaned down and she mewled, as he gently kissed her awake. She smiled up at him.

"I do so love waking up to that," she hummed, as he kissed the back of her hand and then her palm, as she caressed his cheek.

"How long have you been up, my love?" she asked.

"A while, my darling...but it's okay, for I have come up with a plan that will ensure that we get everything we want," he promised. Her face was a light with intrigue and he swept her into his arms.

"Tell me…" she pleaded.

"It will require playing the long game and being in the company of some rather detestable beings, but it will ensure that eventually, we will rule and will protect our babies in the process," he promised.

"As long as I am by your side, I can stomach even the worst deviants," she assured.

"Good...and we'll have to be very good actors as well, but in the end, our love will conquer all," he said.

"I trust you to lead us to everything we want. What must we do first?" she asked. He smirked and kissed her passionately.

"Get your wand and let's dress," he said. She smiled and waved it, dressing herself.

"How's this?" she asked, as she was now wearing her white warrior princess-esque attire.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he asked, as he pulled her close and she smirked.

"I have an idea," she purred, as he kissed her throat and she thrilled at that.

"Mmm...we won't be going anywhere if you keep doing that, Charming," she teased.

"Battle first...and then we'll pick this up after," he said.

"Do you promise?" she asked, as he kissed her again and drew his sword, using the chalice's power to change into his black leather battle attire.

"I promise you all that and more, my darling. I will not stop until I am crowning you as Queen of the United Realms. It will take time and require working with that insidious Seth...but you will rule," he promised. She smiled.

"And you will be my King," she said, thrilled by that thought, as they joined hands and disappeared in twin puffs of silvery smoke...

[larpwhump]

Proverbs 20:30

This is Noncanon beautiful fiction written by @highheelsinblood​.

James was starting to become very familiar with the ceiling of Elizabeth's medical bay. The lights were dim, a scattering of red lamps like dying stars as his vision focused. His head was pounding and he couldn't remember getting here ... did somebody knock him out? 

The Nation went to open his mouth, to call for his Handler, but his jaw wouldn't move. Was he gagged? Muzzled? He didn't feel anything on his face.

But he could hear, and his ears picked up the gentle clattering of metal tools, and Elizabeth's footsteps as she walked around. He couldn't turn his head to look for her though. Panic began to crawl up his throat as James went to move anything - his arms, his legs, fingers - but nothing was working. Everything felt heavy and tingling but he couldn't do anything. James could feel a whimper in his throat, along with something else, not his Chain of Command, but cold and sharp. 

"Oh, you're awake." Her blond curls popped into his view, Elizabeth looking down at him like a cat looked at a dying mouse, and chills ran down his spine.

'Elizabeth, please, why can't I move?' he could hear himself think, but couldn't hear his own voice.

"Are you comfortable? Not like you can go anywhere." Her laugh was slow and wicked, and James felt her hand on his jaw as she turned his head ever so slightly to look into her face.

"Aren't you impressed? Xer taught me about poisons while I was with him last." She smiled sweetly, running her thumb along his cheek. "He told me that wolfmonk weed and devil's salt can make a great paralytic."

A paralytic? She poisoned him?! James wanted to scream, but only heard a tiny gurgling noise come from his mouth.

"Is that as loud as you can be?" Elizabeth giggled again, and the flash of metal appeared - she was holding the knife he usually carried in his tasset. "Can you even scream, Holy Man?"

'No, no I can't, what are you doing!?' He watched the knife vanish from view, right into his chest. The hot pain that exploded in his chest and holy fuck he wanted to scream, to squirm, to do anything to distract himself from the slicing Elizabeth was doing to his torso. He could only see the side of her face and the top of his chest, bright red blood appearing on her hands and a smile on her face.

'Elizabeth are you well? You're not well again, are you? What did you do?' 

He saw a chunk of his flesh be folded back and the edges of his vision blurred with red - oh God he might pass out, oh God.

"You know what will stay with you even more than your scars, Holy Man? Carvings." She folded back another flap of his torso skin, and his whole chest burned like he'd been flayed open. "And you know what carves beautifully if you know what you're doing?"

'You know I don't,' he thought between the waves of agony.

"Bone."

She smiled, standing up straight and wiping her dark red hands over her smock, walking out of his viewpoint while she kept talking to him. 

"I got bored and went through your things some time ago. Don't get upset, I didn't see anything embarrassing. But I did find this."

A familiar book appeared in his view, soft green leather cover. His Bible, now with his blood on the page ends.

"This is some interesting stuff, I tell you what," she said, taking the book away. He could hear it being opened and the pages turning. Despite the pain, the churring in his stomach was weirdly excited - she was reading the stories of God. Not the circumstances he wanted but still.

"Seems like your book here is really into cleansing away sin. Whatever that means. But I have an idea. Here, look, do you see this part?"

She held the book up to his face, tapping the thin paper with a bloody finger. It was Proverbs, the section that almost read like poetry. Beautiful prose of worship and commands, the directions for how to lead a fulfilling life. It took him a moment to focus - even his eyes hurt somehow - and he tried to read the section she was showing him.

'Lashes and wounds purge away evil, and beatings cleanse the innermost parts...'

He almost felt embarrassed, like she had found a private note of his. The book closed with a snap in his face, and James could feel whatever she had shoved through his neck twitch. His fingertips burned.

"We'll have to talk to your ranking officers about how you worship. But later. Now, you worship with me, in my mercy." James saw a new tool in her fingers, like a screwdriver but not. It took a few moments and the dread in his gut threatened to choke him. It was a chisel.

"Don't worry, James, I know exactly what to scar your bones with."

He would have killed 10 people just to be able to scream at that moment, to let the pain outside of his body, but the only noise that came out behind his shaking teeth was a sad bubbling of blood and whining - whatever was inside his neck was pressing his throat almost all the way closed and burning him up. His feet were burning, his hands were burning, he was going to die from the pain, he knew it, Elizabeth was going to kill him with that hammer and chisel. Every strike of the tool sent a shock up his chest and his muscles managed to tense up just a little.

"I wish you had more space on your ribs, James - I'd just chisel out the whole line. But you don't. Small mercies I suppose." 

‘Small mercies indeed, thank you Lord,' he prayed, trying to ignore the voices inside his ears. The Angels had finally started to visit him again in his agony while Elizabeth worked on him in his worship, and he tried to listen to their whispers.

{Say it.}

{You brought salvation.}

{Say it!}

{How can they stay faithless?}

James whimpered again, feeling liquid inside his mouth but he struggled to breath, oh God, he was drowning in his own bile, his own blood, oh God oh God-!

'Elizabeth, help me, help, I can't breath,' he prayed to her, but she didn't turn her head as his vision started to blur again, the lights meshing together as he choked, his lungs on fire, they needed air, they needed air --

His head was suddenly jerked to the side, and he managed painful coughing, watching bloody spit pool up under his cheek as Elizabeth squeezed his face, forcing the liquid up. "I guess we have to take the spike out now. Pity."

The sliding of metal against his spine almost made James throw up, but the immediate pressure off his throat was sweet relief - he caught sight of the offending instrument. A railroad spike. Lord Commander, where did she get that?

"It's almost too big, I think. I'll have to find something smaller for next time." She dropped it with a sigh, letting it clank on the floor before going back to his chest. James could almost turn his head to follow her now, the poison finally starting to wear off. He could move his fingers freely, but his arm was still so heavy and dead.

"We're almost done, don't suddenly start thrashing on me. Pray, check out, do what you have to, but I'm finishing this carving."

"E-Eli--"

James almost managed to speak before she went back to chiseling his bones, and without the spike against his throat he could finally scream, scream against the pain, scream against the restraint of his own flesh. The Angels hovered in the edges of his vision, flashing symbols with their open palms as he screamed.

"Fucking shit, fuck, stop, stop, please!" 

{She never stops.}

{Faithless one.}

{You can't stop.}

James felt the tears burning his eyes as he kept screaming. "She has to stop, she has to stop!" he cried, and Elizabeth, as usual, paid him no mind. She just chiseled, one elbow propping her up against his twitching and bleeding body.

"If you shake too much, I'll puncture a lung." She briefly glanced up at him, a splatter of blood on her face, a stark contrast to her soft eyes. "Stop moving."

"It fucking hurts!" he snapped.

"I'll put the spike back in James, I swear to fucking God."

His fingernails were biting into his palms down and he looked up at the Angels above him, their faces almost visible, taunting him. 

{Don't move, just watch.}

The symbols burned his eyes, his chest was threatening to dissolve, he could hear Elizabeth far far away, he could hear her screaming, hear her laughing, Mack was somewhere nearby, oh God Almighty help me --

A shock of cold water hit him right across the face, and the angels vanished like smoke, Elizabeth's face taking their place.

"You were convulsing," she said flatly, but her eyes betrayed her worry. His lungs greedily ate up air, and James could feel his limbs again. He pushed himself a little in the chair, testing his freedom to move. Elizabeth stopped him from sitting up. "Hold on, Holy Man, I'm not done stitching you yet." She put her hand in her pocket, pulling out her compact mirror, and held it up over James, angling it down.

'Prvrbs 20:30' was carved into his upper rib, by his sternum. His breathing stopped again, staring intently at his own bones, glistening with his blood, twitching and alive. He was alive. So this was worship with her now.

"Tha.... thank you Elizabeth."

"You're welcome." She snapped the mirror closed and set it down. "I have to stitch you back up now. Try and breathe." Her hand found his forehead and pushed him gently back into the Ottoman's. James closed his eyes.

[syntheticmask]

Mistakes and A New Friend (A Metallic Fate Chapter 3)

Writers block is a b. Nonetheless, I finally got this chapter out. BatIM belongs to theMeatly. A Metallic Fate AU belongs to me. My headache was gone when I woke up. I yawned tiredly, attempting to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I had momentarily forgotten that I wasn’t in my normal body anymore, and a wave of panic overtook me when I felt that my eyes were nowhere near human. “Oh… right.” I slowly relaxed after the previous day’s experience returned to me. I lifted up my left arm to check that my memories held true… yup, made of metal and half of it missing. At least it looked like the bleeding had stopped.

I returned my attention back to my lower half. Everything around and below the scar on my spine was sore. How come my upper body wasn’t like that when I first woke up? Perhaps I was asleep longer than I thought. I tried to swing my legs back and forth now that I had regained feeling in them, slowly due to the soreness. I could feel them responding in turn, but they were still off the edge of the table and out of view. I then attempted to roll my ankles and wiggle my toes, just to make sure everything was there… I couldn’t feel my toes. I suppose this body didn’t have any. I wasn’t all that worried, I could do without them.

“Let’s see if I can sit up yet.” I thought out loud. I reposition my usable arm underneath me. I took a deep breath of anticipation, and pushed myself up. A sharp jab of pain from my healed wound was the price I got for going too fast. I winced, staying in my current position until the pain began to dull. I then continued to push myself up cautiously, finally reaching my goal. I lifted my arm up slowly, testing if my spinal column could still hold up my weight without any support. It was a success. I breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing my hand over my scar to try and ease the soreness. It seemed to help a bit, as though I was actually massaging the area despite the lack of any skin.

Finally, I drew my attention away from my scar and to my legs. They were longer than I expected them to be, since I wasn’t able to see my feet from my previous position. They sort of looked like those large cartoon shoes Bendy always wore, but kinda sorta incomplete. Explains why I couldn’t feel any of my toes. I lifted up one of my legs onto the table, which seemed easier that it should have been. It was likely from the absence of a single joint, and in place of it remained one, two… four joints. Wait, actually, if each one of those larger sections has a joint on each end then… eight joints? Maybe even nine? Anyways, It appeared they couldn’t bend as far as a normal knee could, so when bending my leg, each joint contributed. Speaking of joints, my arm appeared to act in a similar way, but with only… never mind, it had the same number of sections.

I was antsy to stand in two legs again, but I had to be slow, especially if they weren’t fully repaired. I didn’t want to end up collapsing from my own weight. I cautiously scooted closer to the edge of the table, to the point where my feet almost touched the floor. Hesitantly, I supported myself again with my right arm as I reached down, finally hitting solid ground. As I began to put more weight onto my foot, everything seemed like it was fine. Sore, but not any real pain. I set my other foot down, and took away my support from the table. A grin spread across my face as I made a full turn around on my feet.

‘Haha! Yes! Step one complete.’  I cheered to no one but myself. I still took it slow, but I began walking around the room. Having so many joints instead of a single solid knee was messing with my ability to walk straight, but I was getting the hang of it quicker than I would have expected. I eventually circled back around to the front of the table, taking another look at my hand.

“I guess this body isn’t as bad as I thought… well, except for the missing arm.” I chuckled, trying to brighten up the gloomy atmosphere with a small joke. I finally lifted my head and took a real look around the room. It was the same as before, with the broken ink maker and the wri- wait, hold on. The writing on the wall was gone. I raised an invisible eyebrow up in confusion. “The ink’s gone from under the table, too…” I muttered to myself after taking a kneel to get a better look, finding that the space where my old body should have been was completely empty. I stared at the spot for another while longer before my mind could come up with a possible explanation. “Is that how the ink got in my body…?” I knew the ink could corrupt someone if they came in contact with the stuff for too long, but it was still confusing. I had been very careful to avoid the stuff for as long as I could, but with all the floods and puddles and the decreasing sight of anything able to wipe it off before it took it’s hold… I suppose it had finally gotten to me, even when I was already dead. I had to give it some credit, though. How else would I be alive right now? I tried not to think about the other poor souls who were currently stuck in purgatory due to its properties. Was I now in the same boat…? “No, no. Just… just think about something else for now.” I shook my head to clear my thoughts, focusing back on my current plan. Continuing on briefly with the second step, I gazed around the room once again to anything else of importance. There were a few other work tables set up in front of the same wall. The closest one had two duck-like heads sitting atop it, one partially painted and the other completely blank. The other had another tool box on top of it, presumably empty, and- “A tape recording?” I must have missed it earlier. I approached the oddly large device and pressed play. The voice of Lacie Benton, as written on the side, rang out. “The only thing that works around here is my ulcer. Half these people don’t know a wrench from a dang steamroller. Buncha morons is what they are. Spend their day in the warehouse arguin’ over who’s supposed to be doin’ what or playing them silly games. Still, I’m not complainin’. I get most of my time to myself. Suits me just fine. Only thing that bothers me is that mechanical demon in the corner. Bertrum’s been working on it for a month now. Says it’ll walk someday and maybe dance. All it does now is give me the creeps. I swear, when my back’s turned… that thing’s movin’.” The tape ended with a familiar click. “Well… I suppose said robot is finally able to walk, and- ” I tapped the tips of my feet against the metal floor. “-even dance, despite the fact that I’m terrible at it.” I chuckled to myself. I attempted to do a small twirl, just for the fun of it. However, I was still getting used to all the little quirks and details about this body, and didn’t fully take into account my new weight, or strength for that matter. I stumbled off balance as soon as I pushed off, tripping over my own feet and tumbling to the floor. I landed with a metallic crash on my left side, unable to slow my fall. Pain shot up my upper body as the fall jarred my previous wound and created a new one. I soon came to a rest on my back, holding my side with my arm in an attempt to soothe the ache. Odd as it was, the pain seemed to dull quickly, and I was able to catch my breath soon after. When I lifted my hand to examine the damage dealt, all that was left was a slowly darkening spot, as though some sort of bruise was forming. No dent either. It was still sensitive to the touch, but manageable, and not as bad as it would have been with normal ribs. I stayed on the ground for another few moments, letting the pain mostly dull before attempting to get up. Using the table as leverage, I carefully returned to a standing position. “Lets not do that again.” I uttered as a mental reminder, brushing off the lingering dust as best I could without irritating my injuries.  ‘At least I didn’t injure my neck there, that could have gone a lot worse… At least the price I had to pay for my stupidity wasn't all that high.’  My thoughts were interrupted when my stomach let out a low growl. “Right, I’m still hungry. I guess some of that nasty bacon soup will have to do.” There were plenty of those cans around here, as searching for the stuff always yielded results quite quickly. Passing through the only exit to the room, the quiet stare of the Lost One caught my attention, as well as the unopened cans of soup lining the shelves to my right. The inky being tilted its head curiously, earlier cries seeming to have ceased. I tilted my head in return, matching its curiosity and confusion. “Er, uh… hello…?” I tried to start a conversation with the creature. Some of them couldn’t speak, others could. I hoped this one was one of the latter. The Lost One’s glowing orange eyes seemed to widen in surprise.

“You can speak…?” Its voice was garbled and had a watery undertone, but I was still able to tell it was a male by a long shot. “Um, yeah. No duh.” I attempted at a joke. His expression didn’t seem to change and my grin faltered, but it was hard to tell with all of the ink on his face. “Is it really that uncommon to be able to speak…?” The Lost One shook his head. “No, no. It’s actually quite common. I was just surprised you could learn to speak so quickly, with the-” He tried explaining his reaction, motioning to his mouth before suddenly pausing. He seemed to be staring intently at my face before resuming talking. “- you don’t have a speaker?” I was confused by his question, taking a second to realize what he meant. “Oh! Well, not anymore. I was confused by that too.” I chuckled awkwardly, shrugging. “When I woke up in this body, I had a relatively normal jaw.” To prove my answer, I opened my mouth just enough so the Lost One could see my teeth split apart. One of his eyes widened, likely raising an eyebrow. “I see. Interesting…” He paused once again, looking me over. “How long have you been here for?” “That depends… how long have I been in this body or how long have I been in the studio altogether?” “Since you’ve had your most recent body.” “Time is wonky down here but I’d say roughly five to eight hours since I first awoke.” I finally answered. The inky being took in the information, while I took his silence as another chance to ask a question. “Do you have a name?” He returned his gaze to me, nodding. “The name’s Daniel, one of the lucky few who still remember their original. Might I ask you the same?” I nodded. “I guess I’m in the same group as you. Please, call me Amber.”