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smuggsy · 3 years

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Remember this post about how Riddler dug up Elijah's body and we just... collectively chose to ignore it along with Oswald? 😂

Well. I un-ignored it. With a sad angsty fic.

(You can read it down here as well.) Word count: 2040. Tags: #emotional comfort #established relationship #hence: canon divergence #nightmares

Oswald's used to having nightmares. He's no stranger to sleepless nights, 5-am coffees have become a bit of a recurrent habit to make up for the drowsiness clouding his mind after a particularly difficult dream chimes in without permission and throws his sleeping schedule off — so much that he often finds himself power-napping through the day when Ed isn't around to tell him off for it.

Yes, he's almost grown too accustomed to Hugo Strange's voice narrating all sorts of gruesome scenarios that he ends up carrying out of his own volition, propelled forward by an unknown and invisible force deep inside. He never really sees the Doctor, but he hears him all the time, he's just there all the time. He tells Oswald what to do and Oswald does it without a pinch of remorse. Shoot him. Stab her. Blow them all to pieces, they deserve it.

It's the kind of hell he's used to. He's almost learnt to accept it's never going away. That it's a part of his psyche now, a part of him that will never really go away — because how do you fix a tattered mind? He wouldn't let anyone try, anyway. Not after Arkham.

This night is different. This night he's assaulted by a new kind of terror, almost perfectly calibrated and specially curated for him. Blossoming from the deepest part of his mind where he'd stocked it, never to be revisited.

And it's most cruel for one reason: when he wakes up with a startle he can't bear the thought of those arms wrapping around him and providing comfort like they've done so many times before. In fact, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is untangle himself from Ed's sleeping embrace like it burns him.

Which means he's got no-one but himself to count on, again. No-one to hush him through the aftermath and speak softly in his ear and hum a long-dead melody until he calms down or, if he's lucky, falls back asleep.

"Oswald?"

He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over to catch his breath, and feels Ed shifting position behind him. His partner's voice is clouded with sleep and Oswald can't bring himself to even turn around and reassure him — lie to him. He fears if he turns around he won't see Ed but Riddler. Not Ed's gentle eyes but Riddler's mocking glare. Not a warm comforting smile but a disdainful sneer.

His father, standing on the other side of the bed with a disappointed frown. My boy, how could you steep so low? Do you know where I am? Do you know where he left me?

When Ed's warm fingers brush over his right shoulder Oswald bolts upright with a whine.

"Osw—?"

And he runs to the bathroom and slams the door close behind him, feeling his one-piece nightgown sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" Edward's voice is immediately on the other side, he tries turning the doorknob but Oswald is pinning it closed with his own weight, still unable to brush away the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal that's so suddenly taken hold of him, "Oswald, get off the door."

It's a gentle request.

Oswald might have done it, perhaps, might have considered it, if he hadn't looked right into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and seen Elijah's pale and sickness-stricken face. A dead man's face that makes him shiver.

He shall never have peace, so long as you're with him, Oswald thinks. Some other Oswald. Some other voice that sounds like his but isn't. Can't be.

"Oswald," Ed tries again, and this time he pushes against the door with more conviction, Oswald leans off and turns around to face him when he comes in, to keep him away, Riddler, he's still in there, he's— "oh dear," Ed coos, having one look at him and taking pity instantly. He takes a step forward and Oswald takes a step back.

"No!" he blurts out with a raspy voice. Edward stops dead in his tracks, lost expression for a moment before his shoulders relax again.

"It's okay, Oswald. It was just a nightmare," he adds, softly like so many times before.

"No, it isn't! It wasn't!" Oswald lashes out, hating that he looks at Ed's dishevelled face and concerned caramel eyes and wants him to just get away, his voice comes out just barely, "you did that to him! You— How could you?!"

Ed opens his mouth and doesn't move, clearly taken aback by the accusation even if he fails to comprehend, thrown off by the way Oswald looks at him, stands like that, like a wounded animal, like he might flee if Edward takes another step forward.

He still takes a step forward, though, because he never was really good with physical cues.

"Os, I don't understand wha—"

"Don't touch me!"

Oswald jerks away and hits the wall behind, still shivering despite his burning skin. Edward shows him his palms, a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'm not," he takes a steadying breath in, "I'm staying right here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's not him, I swear! I didn't—"

"Oswald?"

"He's different now! He's not like that anymore!"

Oswald gestures towards Ed, clever, supportive, thoughtful, with his checked blue pyjamas and plaid shirt and lack of glasses and puffy eyes from sleep. Then he looks back at his father now standing by the door and projects the thought: Ed. Not Riddler!

But Elijah shakes his head and purses his lips, looking him up and down like he doesn't approve and Oswald just needs him to understand.

"It's not hiiiiim!"

"Oswald, this is starting to become very unsettling."

Edward looks around, to his right, there. To where Oswald's looking, to nothing. He knows that deranged gaze, he's seen it countless times before, he's stood in front of the mirror a lot of times and seen it on himself.

"Os, it's just those new painkillers making you groggy, okay? It's a much heavier dose than the one you're used to. Whatever you're seeing," Edward chances a slow step forward and Oswald finally turns his head back to him, with glassy eyes and tears on his eyelashes and still looking like he'll run away, "it's not there, Oswald. I am here."

Oswald stares at him for a few more silent moments with a lost expression, mouth open and still bracing himself with one hand on the cold tiles behind and the other on the sink.

"You're not... you're not him, I try to— I tell him you're not," he babbles, looking feverish and lost.

That's when the penny drops for Edward. It feels like a stab to the heart, that broken voice, the trembling hands, the quivering lips, the whole sight of an Oswald so distressed he won't even let him get close enough to soothe him.

"No," Ed says softly, his own voice failing him for a moment, shaking his head and taking yet another step closer, "no," he repeats breathless, "I'm not. Please. Come here."

He reaches an offering hand and Oswald slowly looks down as if weighing his options. As if making sure this isn't a trick — which, well. If he's thinking of Riddler, he can hardly be blamed for exercising caution, Ed admits. It hurts him to admit it. To know he's caused this, one way or another. Painkillers or not. This raw incoherent fear is coming from somewhere, however small the flame that ignited it might be, and he can't fix it because Oswald won't stop trembling like a leaf and recoiling.

"Oswald, please," he begs, voice finally breaking and eloquence escaping him, retrieving his outstretched hand and rubbing fingers over his burning eyelids because if he breaks down too... "please, it's me, Ed, just Ed."

He doesn't know what to do. He's on the verge of blurting out apologies when he opens his eyes to Oswald latching onto him with one of those desperate hugs. Ed wraps his arms around him instantly, a reflex, feeling like he's just come back to life.

"Go away," Oswald says, sobs with his face buried in the crook of his neck and starts crying. Edward tightens his hold and hides his own tears in the other man's raven locks, understands he's not the one being spoken to, "go, please. I won't leave him!"

Edward can barely understand the string of pleas when Oswald's clutching onto him so firmly his words come out muffled and nearly intelligible. Either way, he's not about to ask who's there — better not add salt to the wound. Not feed the horror, lest it become a recurrent thing. He needs him to understand this is a figment of his imagination if he's not aware already.

"Shhhh, it's all good," he keeps Oswald in place with an arm around his waist and brings the other one to gently pet his hair, "it's o-kay, Oswald. I'm here, it's just you and me."

Oswald nods against his chest but he can't seem to bring himself to stop crying. Edward rubs circles on his back.

"Just you and me," he repeats, striving for a soothing voice and feeling it waver ever so slightly.

They stay like that for a whole five minutes until Oswald finally leans back, sniffs and looks up with red eyes and a self-deprecating comment on his lips that Ed doesn't let him voice out.

"Come on, it's freezing out here."

Ed guides him back under the covers and tucks him in, Oswald watches his every move like an overcurious child. That cloudy expression is gone, though, and Ed can't help but let out a sigh of relief at having him back. He looks drained but sober.

Mostly sober.

His eyes still dart around with a nervous air but he doesn't seem to find his demon anywhere. When Ed climbs back up on the bed Oswald immediately shifts closer and hides his face in his shirt again.

"I'm sorry, that—"

"No-uh-uh," Ed cuts in, brushing a strand of hair off his green doe eyes and feeling an almost compulsive need to plant a kiss on the now-red tip of his nose, "say no more."

Oswald purses his lips and shuffles even closer, pressing his flush body so firmly against Ed's that they can't exactly see each other's faces anymore.

"Can you...?"

"Yes I can."

And that's that. He settles his chin on top of Oswald's head and starts humming; content to sidestep the issue just for now but unable to brush aside the sour taste of guilt filling almost every corner of his mind.

He starts rubbing circles on Oswald's back and doesn't stop the melody until he feels the other man's hold loosen up and his breath change into a normal and peaceful pace. Only then does Edward slowly extract himself from the embrace, far enough that he can look at Oswald's face.

Red and wet and troubled, still. He reaches over and soothes the lines on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Os," he breathes out.

He's used to Oswald having nightmares. He wakes up all heaving breaths and uncertain hands latching onto anything that's near for comfort, for safety or reassurance. Ed is always there to provide either one, wrap his arms around his shaking form and listen to him if he wants to talk. Make him a cup of tea or play soft tunes on the piano if sleep doesn't return.

Oswald's always been needy like that.

Having him wake up and frantically keep himself away, recoil from his touch and excuse himself to a third party only he can see... that's a first.

And it's terrifying.

Because He made that happen. Because Oswald's grown to be too dependant and Ed's grown to be his anchor in moments like these and if he can't even be that... then what can he be? What's left for him to be, besides the clear instigator?

Ed closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, focusing on the sound of Oswald's breathing and on the touch of his cold feet and the smell of cherry-scented hair conditioner. He relishes in the familiarity of the hold and shakes the darker thoughts away.

Perhaps he's become a bit dependant himself.

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

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Of All the Places

Chapter 12

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki is in SHIELD’s custody, but refuses to speak. That is, until Thor manages to get through to him. Chapter Warnings: kinda angsty and some bad language A/N: Updates every Friday. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @marvelousdaydreams @parkastoria @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @sourpatchspinster @gaitwae

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The wall across from him was a dull, depressing shade of gray. It had light cracks running through it, undoubtedly from previous super-powered villains who had resisted against their captors. This deep in the belly of the beast, Loki doubted they had much success with anything besides maybe giving out a few bruises. He, however, would not give the agents the satisfaction of seeing him lash out, no matter how badly he wanted to act like a madman, tearing everything apart until they let him go. Until he could see you. But, no, he swore he’d stay away from you for your own good.

Loki looked at the one-way mirror out of his peripheral vision. Another thing he refused to do was look directly at them, to look like he cared at all. His whole plan on getting out of here hinged on the fact that he seemed completely uninterested. It had worked the first time, after all. Though, that would probably mean they were more likely to be wary of him now. It didn’t really matter, anyway. His plan was half-baked at best, and he didn’t have much hope for getting out. Or much of a reason for trying, either. Not when he couldn’t go to you. A pain shot through his whole body, starting in his heart and spreading out. It was the all-consuming thought of you that made him show a crack in his armor, even though it was for the briefest of seconds. He tried to go back to the completely calm facade he’d been doing such a good job of keeping up, but he was sure he looked quite a bit more deranged now. It was much more of a strain on him to look fine when he was remembering that you were out there, possibly still crying into Denzel’s shoulder.

The door to his left swung open, and Loki examined his nails as best he could being cuffed to the table. He hoped the action looked as nonchalant as it did in his mind. Fury and Natasha walked up to the chair opposite him, but neither sat down for a second, obviously trying to give a subtle reminder of the power they exerted over him. Finally, Fury took the seat, but Natasha remained standing off to the side. It was probably a reminder of how she got him to crack last time. As if he would let that happen again.

“So,” Fury began, “you mind telling me what was going on in that crazy head of yours, attacking civilians without a cause.”

He was met with silence.

“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. Now, don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Still, stony-faced silence.

“You can take all the time you need. The sooner you answer, the sooner we can ship you back to that alien planet you dared to come from. It makes no difference to me whether you’re rotting here or there. I’m in no rush.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Loki taunted. The man’s intimidation tactics were more annoying than anything else, and Loki couldn’t resist the chance to be snide. “After all, it only took you two months to find me. And even then it was only because of a civilian, is that not right?”

“Fine, have it your way,” Fury shrugged, leaving the room with Natasha, seemingly carefree, though Loki knew he was grating on his nerves.

Really, all Loki wanted to do was break down, scream. Cry. But he knew he was being watched, so he didn’t say or do anything else. He should have left when he had the chance. Had he not stayed on your farm, he wouldn’t be in custody right now. Not to mention you and your family wouldn’t have had to be interrogated. Because, he was sure, there had been countless questions asked of you in the past twenty-four hours. Most of you would be safe, he knew, but what about John? He had kept Loki’s secret. If he was smart, he would claim it was under duress. Alas, Loki knew his friend cared too much to say anything that might condemn him. He could only hope John didn’t incriminate himself instead.

And Matt! Oh, that poor boy would be so confused, so upset. Right from the beginning Loki knew he would be no good for the child, but did he listen to sense? No, he gave into his own selfish desires. If only he hadn’t spent so much time with him, this might be easier. Maybe Matt was still young enough that after all this was said and done, he wouldn’t even remember it. Of course, that means he wouldn’t remember how Loki saved him either. The thought made him sadder than he ever would have imagined it could.

What of Papa and Ana, Loki wondered. They knew nothing of his true identity, so they must be safe. Ever the pacifist, he was sure your father would keep everyone as calm as possible during the whole ordeal. But Ana might not be doing too well. Plus, she was pregnant, and Loki felt guilty he’d inflicted so much stress on her during such a time. It dawned on him just then that, in his mind, he’d always just assumed he’d be around to meet the new baby. Needless to say, that was not the case. How he already missed your whole family already. Except for Mama. Screw it, even her! As annoying as she was and whatever she may have done in the end, Loki enjoyed the banter with her, deep down.

Then there was you. You’d cared for him since the moment he first arrived. From the very second you saw him passed out in the field to the time you found out the truth, you watched over him. All the bruises and cuts and scratches on him, you had healed with your touch. And that wasn’t just the physical ones, but the ones on his heart, too. Words could not describe all that you had done for him. His blood boiled at the thought that SHIELD agents were prying into the details of your relationship at that very moment.

He remembered he’d said he’d sing for you one day. He’d never get to do that now. He supposed it could just be added to a growing list of broken promises.

The last image he had of you as the van pulled away was still burning in the back of his mind. The way Denzel had been holding you, comforting you, it broke Loki. After everything you went through together, that should have been him. That could have been him. Instead, Mama had to go and ruin everything. He couldn’t really hold that against her, though. After all, he had been branded as a criminal. When you got down to the nitty-gritty of it, he actually was a criminal. But was he a villain? There was a difference there, he realized, but he didn’t know exactly where in the spectrum he fell. You’d called him a hero once. He shuddered to think what you’d call him now.

He’d vowed to leave you alone, but his resolve was already weakening. What if, by some miracle, he was able to get out of here? Could he go see you for even a second? If for nothing else, then to apologize for all the wrong he did you. He shook his head ever so slightly. That was not a thought he should be entertaining. How could he be so stupid! Here he was thinking about making the same mistake again. Would he ever learn? He needed to keep you out of this. You never should have even been involved in the first place. A monster; that’s all he ever was, and all he’d ever be. A single imperceptible tear rolled down his cheek.

Again, the door opened, but this time Thor walked in. He was seething in anger, but if Loki looked deep enough—and for whatever reason, he did—there was also a deep remorse in his eyes. A sadness Loki could only assume was due to all that had happened. It made him feel a little bit better to know he wasn’t the only one who wished things could have been different.

“Brother, I know not why you have taken this path,” Thor said. “But the sooner you confess, the sooner I can go back to fixing the mess you made in the rest of the Nine Realms.”

“What?” Loki scoffed. “So eager to leave your precious Midgard.”

He tried to spit it out with only venom in his voice, but it just sounded sad at the end. It was, after all, his precious Midgard now too.

“What happened, brother?” Thor asked, a bit more softly than he had before. “Why did you attack?”

Loki looked at the table, unable to face Thor. “You would not believe me even if I told you.”

“What have I ever done that you think I do not trust you, care for you, brother?”

“Stop calling me that,” Loki snapped, his eyes shooting up to Loki’s face. He would have stood if his restrains allowed it. “I am sure father dearest has already told you my true heritage.”

Ah, there was the venom in his voice. His demeanor quickly changed, though, when he noticed Thor was looking at him with a puzzled expression. Loki had assumed that Odin would have gone singing through the streets, telling everyone that Loki was a Frost Giant once he declared him a villain. Could it be that he hadn’t even told his prized son?

“Did he...” Loki gulped. “Did he not tell you?”

“Father did not mention anything. Loki, what are you talking about?”

“I am Jötnar, Thor,” Loki whispered. “The very thing you were taught to abhor.”

Thor finally sat down. He seemed to still be confused by something, though the trickster god could not quite figure out what. Perhaps he was just deciding the best way to slay the beast, to strike him down.

“But you are still my brother.”

Loki’s voice caught in his throat, and he choked on his words. He was nearly as shocked as Thor seemed, if not more. Though, it was for entirely different reasons. He sputtered, trying to find the right thing to say. So much for his cool demeanor.

“Just tell me what is wrong,” Thor said, “my brother.”

“I will tell you. On one condition.”

“That depends,” Thor hesitated, “on what that condition is.”

“That family I was staying with, you must make sure they are all safe. All of them.”

“You have my word. Now, please, tell me why you attacked Midgard. We will discuss your previous actions another time.”

“Very well,” Loki conceded with a small nod. Here goes nothing. “It was the mad Titan, Thanos. After I fell—well, let go on the Bifröst, I was adrift in a void for a while. It was not my intention, but it is what happened. After, well, to be quite honest, I do not know quite how long, Thanos pulled me out. He... He twisted my mind, bent me to his will. He used me as his puppet and made me attack. It was his bidding that I lower Midgard’s defenses, take note of what kind of fight the planet could put up. And one more thing. He wanted the Tesseract. I cannot at this moment, however, give it to you.”

Thor paused for a moment, the gears in his head turning. “And why is that?” he questioned.

“Because of these,” Loki said, lifting his magic-restraining chains. “If you take them off, I will be able to provide you with it.”

For once, he was telling the truth. He had no plans to keep the artifact for himself. Not right now, anyway, with so much else on the line. Once he had handed it over, though, he would have teleported away. It would have been nice to make amends with Thor, yes, but it was not something he would stake his freedom on.

“Point Break,” Tony said, popping in. “Can we talk to you out here for a second?”

Thor excused himself and left Loki by his lonesome again. Well, he wasn’t really alone with so many agents watching from the other side of the glass. His heart was beating wildly. If it had been up to Thor, if he had acted quick enough, Loki would already be on his way off this planet. There was no way anyone else would ever allow it now.

“Ok, Rock of Ages,” Tony said, waltzing back in with Thor and Fury close behind. “You know what I think? Your story sounds like a load of bullshit. But, Point Break here says he believes you.”

“Which is the most idiotic thing I’ve heard,” Fury added.

“And he’s got some evidence to back it up,” Tony finished.

Loki looked at his brother with wide eyes, much like he had when they were kids and he was about to get in trouble. A part of him couldn’t believe Thor would have stood up for him, even after their little heart to heart. He dared let a spark of hope ignite in his heart. If Thor was sticking up for him, and SHIELD was accepting his story as the truth that it was, then was he free to go? After all, if they agreed that it was not him, what reason did they have to keep him in custody?

“May I ask, then,” Loki started, “am I free of the charges? May I go?”

“I am afraid, brother,” Thor solemnly replied. “That I cannot allow that.”

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hasbbdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

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Summoning ancient horrors for dummies

so this is kind of an exposition type of short story that introduces how Quin got some of her abilities. It is also a bit of a call back to one of the books Quin checked out from the library au post.

anyways, there is a bit of unsettling details/descriptions in this so read at your own risk!

Traveling to solve these problems was not her specialty but they needed to be done.

It was amazing that of all the alumni the Clock tower has they decided on her to ask for this favor. Granted the reports were about some ghosts and other spooky things swarming the area, so at least she was slightly qualified to do this.

Quin glanced out the window to the countrysides flying by. The train seat, uncomfortable as it was for long voyages, cushioned any jostling from the train. In hindsight, she really should have scrounged up some more money for another plane ride instead of this train but beggars can’t be choosers. Quin’s destination was some old abandoned prison or insane asylum or something along those lines. From the file, she got about the job it said that the organization was run by a group of non-mages who found out that mages existed and wanted to experiment on them. If the group was mages experimenting on mages, the Clock tower wouldn’t even bat an eye no matter how horrendous the experiments.

“Wow! You are really in your own head aren’t You!” A cheerful yet also mocking voice says into Quin’s ear shocking her from her thoughts.

“Sorry d-darling, I was just thinking about this mission.” replying back to her purple-haired partner in love and crime.

BB just stands back up to her normal height after giving Quin a small peck on the cheek. Her face quickly forms into a pout, as if she was a cat that didn’t get enough attention from her owner. The purple-haired girl just plops down into the seat next to Quin and moves up the armrest separating the two. She then wraps her arms around the other woman’s waist and holds her tight.

“Well, I gueeess I can forgive you!” She gives a chuckle that if anyone else heard would think of it as a villain’s laugh “Since you are so cute and all!”

The two have been in a relationship for almost 2 years now and the butterflies never stop fluttering when BB compliments her. “...But y-you are e-even cuter and m-more b-beautiful.”

“Of course I am! But I need someone just as cute to stand by me. Even I have standards! Anyways, I got drinks. The stupid waiter was overcharging for them so I just hacked into their bank account and used their money. People should really stop wearing name tags.”

“T-Thank you.” Internally Quin let out a sigh. She wasn’t a fan of cyber-crimes and she tried to get BB to stop before but it just never worked. So it was something she learned to deal with. One thing you get from being a mage is that you can easily throw away morals that make your life more difficult. Though commendably BB has never gotten caught, so it’s not too much of a hindrance.

~~Time skip~~

After checking in at their hotel and placing their things away the two waited until nighttime to start their search. Coming up to this large facility, only reminded Quin of her family’s laboratory. The brick walls and ivy growing on the outside to the white stained walls on the inside. The only difference being that recently Quin renovated the laboratory into her new home. The facility was eerie and quiet if not for the light gusts of wind blowing through.

With an involuntary shiver going down her spine BB just mumbles “This place looks like trash compared to the prisons I make.”

“I-I don’t think they had access to the a-abilities you do. I also d-don’t think they would c-care about the p-people contained as much as you do either.”

“Aww, does that mean I can imprison you since I love you so much?”

Quin just chuckles a bit “N-Nope. I already t-trapped y-you and ch-chained you to my s-side.”

To much of the outside world, the two seemed liked deranged lovers, and well maybe they actually are. Yet, they both have found each other making them better and growing together. Instead of actually doing what they say they now just flirt and joke. Overhearing one of their conversations usually causes people to be horrified. That is why the Clock tower sent Quin on this case, as they thought that if the mysteries aren’t dealt with through normal means, the two can just scare the sentient ones away.

Exploring around they find some traces of experiments, each detailing a different thing. One of the most interesting being how psychosis affects magecraft. After going through the above-ground floors Quin finds about 7 different experiments written down that are still legible. Looking them over, she notices that some of the letters used in the reports aren’t actually letters but are instead symbols that look similar to the letters they replace. She writes them down on a piece of paper and looks to BB.

“Th-there are glyphs or something o-on these papers.”

Looking over Quin’s shoulder BB glances at the symbols written down “Maybe they form an incantation of something…” With that suggestion, Quin gets to work trying to format the symbols and corresponding letters into something that makes sense.

After writing down a sentence Quin says “so i-it says, ‘Be gone now the eyes of the that deceive, O creator remake me to see, for what lies beyond the truth is an endless sea’” Finishing that incantation, she suddenly feels all of her mana vanish from her body. In its place, a screaming pain rushes in. Not having felt anything this tortuous since childhood, Quin collapses to her knees. Her eyes feel like they are simultaneously being melted, shredded, and crushed over and over. Screaming out in agony Quin moves her hands up to her eyes and starts clawing at them.

Seeing this, her dear one in so much pain and agony makes BB cry. She can’t even stop the tears or hold them in, they just flow as if they are supposed to. She knew that this was going to happen though. Those glyphs are ones to call upon those outer gods that watch over existence. So why didn’t she stop Quin? Save her from the pain? Well, it’s because BB knew Quin would do it anyway. Dropping down to her own knees, BB just hugs Quin to her and whispers sweet nothings in her ear.

A few minutes pass and Quin’s voice goes raw. The pain passes and she opens her eyes. The first thing she sees is the blood covering her hands and BB’s shirt. Her glace then travels up to BB’s face, seeing those purple eyes calms Quin just a bit before noticing the things behind her. In the dark corners of the room, almost neon shapes appear. Eyes, tentacles, claws, teeth, and another appendage or organ one can up a name to, and then some litter it. Creatures, monsters, crowd and clutter as much as they can. Looking towards the lantern they brought, some figures stand in it but are now just look like pictures drawn with black ink. All Quin wants to do is hide. It reminds her of the first time she saw her family’s magecraft, the jagged, jittering motions of those animated corpses walking and moving. Yet, she can not hide from this fear. She has a job to do and well, BB is here with her. From the time they met to now and every trial in between, she had always been Quin’s guardian angel no matter what the other claimed about her. So she can’t give up, at least not yet. She tries to regain ass much strength as possible and stand up.

“Th-thank you and s-sorry I got b-blood on your shirt.” Quin presses her lips to the crown of BB’s head.

“Hehe, no problem!” if it wasn’t so dark in the room and BB didn’t turn her head away, you could see the large blush covering her face “W-well, on to the basement!”

With a deep shaky breath and a nod, Quin grabs BB’s hand in reassurance. The two then venture down into the basement of the facility. BB picked a few locked doors, and the two went down some stars before reaching a long maze-like corridor with rooms on each side. Opening each room, some were filled with beautiful artworks of madness, some random scribbles of symbols, others the walls were no longer the material they were before now squishy and oozing, a few were collapsed, one was completely full of water, some just opened to a void of darkness but Quin could see millions of eyes watching them back, and the last door led into a library with a large summoning circle which had a pedestal and a box sitting on top of it.

Before going to the main event of what is in the box, BB and Quin check the books on the shelves. After making a perimeter of the room BB just shouts out “Why are they all the same damned book?! Why would anyone even write a book called ‘Summoning ancient horrors for dummies’!? These people are stupid. AUGH!” Quin just sadly chuckles, sharing the same sentiment that after everything thing they saw today, owning over a thousand copies of the same book really is insane.

“C-come on let’s g-go check the box.” She just tugs on BB’s hand still clasped to her own. They two then move to the box and find it locked. Just being done with this place, Quin and BB look at each other and together pick up the box and slam it on the ground, breaking it into pieces.

BB bursts out laughing and says “Wow! That felt good. We should go to one of those stress-relief rooms where you can just destroy stuff. Or y’know, Chaldea.” It sadly was true that Chaldea often had hallways and rooms completely destroyed from something the servants there did.

Quin picks up what ones in the box. It looks to be a pair of gauntlets and a note. She reads the note out loud “It says, ‘For those who can comprehend, the next is to amend. O creator make anew in the beings beyond, from shape and form that are meaningless to those who can respond.’ I-I think th-the gloves are a m-mystic code of s-some sort.”

“Hm… that would make sense! Well, let’s just say they are our prize for conquering this dungeon. It was pretty creepy and we deserve it!”

Quin nods “Y-yeah, do you w-want them?”

“Nope! They are yours Quin!” BB shakes her head no “My little tarantula hawk deserves some compensation for that pain this place put her through.”

She blushes a bit and then puts on the gloves. Quickly they form to her, covering her hands and arms all the way up to just before her elbows. Pushing a bit of mana into the gloves, they compact into little bracelets. This isn’t the place to find out what they do so Quin just leaves them in their small form for now. “Are w-we done with th-this places darling?”

“Mhm. When you did that incantation, all the mana in the surrounding area got gobbled up. So even if there were ghosts there aren’t any more!”

“Then l-let’s g-go home.” Quin says with a small smile. This adventure and mission was only one night, but it was tiring.

“Let’s take a bath together and cuddle!” BB grabs Quin’s hand and then the two sprint out of the facility, and off towards their hotel.

#oc post #bb did nothing wrong #she kinda did but tried to make up for it #best way to not be scared of something is to not think its scary #or just know your girlfriend can be scarier #i feel sorry for anyone trying to use quin's body or go into her mind #they get the trauma instead

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years

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equinox | chapter 06 –– “open book”

here is chapter chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but sometimes it doesn’t work. so. um.

the last time i wrote for this, it was BEFORE midnight sun came out. and now, midnight sun has been out for two weeks (oops...now FOUR weeks), i’ve finished it, i am miserable as a result, and finally, SHOOK. here’s why: in the last chapter, i mentioned esme’s aversion to having her floors ruined by rain. in midnight sun, edward mentioned that multiple times. MY MIND.

everyone reading this is thinking like, yeah, sure “your mind” OR you’re dumb and should not be finding any humor that your lizard brain came up with the same basic idea as smeyer, known racist. maybe esme was just written with hardly any personality so it wasn’t that difficult to end up concocting the same idea. and… okay, you’re right. but in those moments, let me tell you, i was really feeling something. smeyer, you reading this?

to catch up since i’ve been busy, i reread my other chapters. and i really need to go back and edit them. so thank u for being here & bearing with me. hehe

also… the beige… that’s for y’all.

just a lil baby warning: there are conversations revolving around religion in this chapter. i wanted to mention that as a warning for the sake of anyone who has had negative experiences with church/religion (like me!) whom this topic makes uncomfortable. the local doctor and his children are VAMPIRES. you have been warned.

It was entirely unrealistic –– the possibility of running out of time –– but still, I expedited through the forest, the greenery blurring by me in long unfocused streaks. Although if I paid attention, I knew I’d still be able to see every microscopic detail. The fluffy moss growing along the trunks of the ground, the iridescent droplets of rain dotting the ferny leaves, the patterns in the wood of the trees. But I cared little to as I barreled forward, hurtling over uprooted trees and bounding over large pools of rainwater nestled in the muddy forest floor.

I lost a shoe leaping over the last fifty yard stretch of river, so I kicked the other off carelessly in midair. The shoe fell into the water with a powerful splash from the height. Alice could bite me later. I was in too great of a hurry to deal with her chastisement now. If she really cared for this pair of shoes, she could dive for it. Alice! The thought of my sister made me realize a reason I could actually be late. I needed a change of clothes.

As I fell back to the earth, reaching a hand forward to grasp onto a convenient branch, I focused, envisioning my arrival at the house, the flight of the stairs, and the knock on the door of her room. I pictured asking her my request, and though I had no intention of actually following through with these steps, I hoped the thought was enough for Alice to see what I wanted. It should be, because if it wasn’t, I’d have to go into the house anyways, but I really didn’t want to waste time.

I swung lightly onto the bough of another spruce, and nimbly travelled this way from branch to branch, juggling the journal all the while by throwing it into the air between trees and catching it again. I could run fast and delicately enough to avoid muddying my feet, but with how unfocused I was in my hurry, I didn’t want to risk needing to stop to wash off.

If they hadn’t been concerned already, now would really be the time that my family genuinely considered my descent into insanity, seeing me wildly and maniacally swing through the trees towards the house like Tarzan after having only melodramatically left hours prior.

I knew it wouldn’t last, but I felt somehow liberated by the realizations that I’d come to in my wintry jungle. After hours of considering the right way forward navigating my now complicated future, I’d decided to face it head on. To stubbornly confront the problem. I was tired of feeling unlike myself and feeling distanced from my family, though my new resolution might encourage the rift I’d only just mended with Rosalie. Even with my grievances, I still enjoyed this life, the strength I’d found in it. The sense of rightness and belonging that contrasted how I’d felt so weak and out of step as a human. I wanted to bask in that again. I wanted to take action.

I decided the best way to reattain that freedom was rather than leave the boy alone, I’d challenge the vision. Seek him out this morning. Return the journal to him. Sit beside him. And in my ability to do so, I’d then prove his irrelevance to me, his powerlessness over my self control.

And although it was still a ridiculous thought to entertain, if I did find in me some concern or care for him, then that’d be even better. It’d certainly be strange, but it’d also strengthen my resolve to leave him be with his own life rather than make any choices he couldn’t even be knowledgeable enough about to consent to. Then, once I’d done so, I could truly leave him alone for good. I’d toyed with completely ignoring him from the beginning as I said I would, but then I decided that outcome wouldn’t develop from inaction. I was far too headstrong to leave this alone without trying to face it.

I will admit that a part of me was curious about Alice’s vision, curious about a friend or even a partner in this life… But the thought of Edward as that partner made me recoil. He was too irritating –– not the ideal candidate to spend an eternity with.

He was smart, though. And kind too, I noted, thinking of the way he’d cheered up the girl in the hospital… But definitely irritating. I’d have endless time to decode what had made him so relentless and smart-mouthed, but once I’d made the discovery, what then?

I had spent hours turning the little brown journal in my hands over and over, studying the worn leather, the folds and creases, tempted to open it and uncover his secrets. During an hour where I’d been resolved to go forth with pretending he didn’t exist, I’d even considered sneaking back to his house and finding my way in to leave the journal by his side so that I wouldn’t have to give it back to him myself in person. But that –– and also privily reading it without his permission –– seemed indefensibly invasive.

I didn’t mind being a vampire if that’s what I was. But that didn’t mean I had any desire to fulfill some of the creepier of the tropes.

Once I reached the tree closest to the garage, I tightroped onto a thin branch. Then, cautious as to not break it, I gently pushed down and sprung off, diving like a swimmer seventy feet down, the journal clasped between my outstretched hands. The distance was very short, and I landed softly, focusing greatly on doing so in a cautiously tactile way that wouldn’t cannonball me through the building and barreling into the ground. I rolled like a bowling ball to a stop on the vegetative, vine-covered roof in a cluster of silky honeysuckle and tickling lavender wisteria.

Even now all these years later, I felt kind of giddy at the impossible physics of my body’s capability for control, so I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I even laughed a little more thinking again of how my family might see my behavior –– me laughing here in the flowers –– as lunacy in how drastically it differed from the darkness of the personal rain cloud I’d been carrying over me.

From the house, I heard a deep chuckle and the sound of a scoff, confirming that I did have an audience. It must be Emmett mocking the impressiveness of my nosedive. I smiled, feeling very much like myself again.

I hopped off the roof to the ground and entered the garage. Sure enough, Alice had laid out a small pile of clothes for me for the upcoming school day. I stripped, unceremoniously dropping the garments I was wearing into a pile on the floor and reached for the clothing. Then, I groaned.

“Alice!” I hissed her name like an expletive. I thought we’d moved past my sister’s insistence on using me as her personal doll, but it seemed this was her attempt for a revival. Maybe she was determined to punish me for the way I’d destroyed my shoes. Rather than a sensible sweater and jeans, Alice had taken advantage of my hurried need and elected to pick out a cropped turtleneck sweater and a mini skirt, both black. The sweater wasn’t awful in that the crop wouldn’t be exposing with the high waist of the skirt, but the bodycon fit of the skirt, the crocodile print of the polyurethane, and the ludicrous split up the side… Alice was deranged. This had to have come from her own closet.

She had the good sense to include sheer black tights to hide some of the disconcerting flawlessness and freaky whiteness of my skin –– not that that would matter much in how off-putting and contrasting I’d look in all black anyways –– but I’d have preferred converse over the matching black boots. At least the heel of the boot was more reasonable than I’d expect from her. Not more reasonable than converse, though.

I imagined showing up to Edward’s house. Hey, Edward! Here I am to drive you to school, pale and ridiculous. Also, I’m a vampire. Here’s your journal.

I considered the short run to my room in the house, but again, I was already running late…

I tugged the clothes on and hopped into the pearly white car, throwing the journal into the passenger seat. As I reversed out of the garage, I felt thankful for the engine upgrades Rosalie worked on that allowed for the instant rapidity of the acceleration.

I spun sharply, letting the car spin out with an obnoxiously loud screech until I was facing the long drive away from the house. In the rearview mirror, I watched as Rosalie entered the garage, her golden eyes shocked and her mouth open as I sped away.

My reckless driving only warranted a few irritated honks on my way to Edward’s house through the morning traffic –– one dark green Honda specifically gave me a long piece of their mind when I cut them off –– before I was whipping around the corner onto his street.

Just as I pulled in front of the lonely house, I watched as Edward casually jogged down the steps of his porch, his sleek backpack hanging carelessly off one shoulder and an apple in his hand.

His tangle of bronze hair was like a low burning flame against the muted monochromatism of the grey house and the grey sky and the grey pavement. Today, he wore a light tan turtleneck that clung tightly to his chest, slim beige trousers, and a long black coat that ended above the knees. His fancy belt, his long socks, and his suede boots were all black too. I didn’t particularly consider him to be someone who cared much about what others thought about him, but he seemed pretty meticulously dressed. I wondered if he dressed to impress others or dressed for himself. Neither decision particularly mattered, but it’d been so long since I thought about something so human –– the thought process of selecting what to wear and considering how you wanted to present yourself.

The clothes I wore ceased to matter long ago. I never particularly had an interest in fashion, so it was easy to allow Alice to select my wardrobe. And for the most part, she got it right. Only when I found her selections to be impractical, such as today, did I really care. But it was a rarity that she tried to push me too far out of my comfort zone anymore. She’d given up on me, or maybe she had just become more clever about finding the right opportunities to dress me in something absurd… I liked things that I could easily move around in.

Alice would approve of his outfit, I thought. Maybe if he liked fashion, they really would get along. But that didn’t matter because I had no intentions of involving Alice and her freaky little visions in my experiment.

Seeing me parked there, he froze for a moment, before his lips curved into a huge smile. Edward laughed, throwing his apple up in the air and catching it again. He half-jogged forward to meet me. I took a deep, clean breath full of the leather scents of the car’s interior and rolled down the window, leaning forward towards him.

Edward bent over so that his head could duck down to see my face through the window, and he shook his head again, chuckling.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hello, Edward,” I smiled pleasantly, trying to play nice.

He eyed me suspiciously, but the glint in his pretty green eyes was teasing, the grin that lit them up never fading.

“I’ve come to bring you this, fresh from the scene of the crime––“ I grasped hold of the leather bound book in my hand, raising it up to wave it before setting it back down, “––and to offer you a ride to school. I’m sure it’d be a humbling experience for you to walk, but I felt bad about your pretty car being flattened like a pancake.”

“You’re not irritated with me?” Edward asked, slightly cocking his head to the side.

“Are you irritated with me?” I countered.

“Never,” he beamed.

“Well, then we can call a truce,” I half smiled. “You’re not curious as to why I’m forcing you to carpool, making your getting to school my business?”

“The wasting of finite resources is everyone’s business. But of course, I am curious.”

“As usual,” I mumbled under my breath. Hesitantly, I breathed in. It was like pulling the chord on a hot-air ballon with the way his scent ripped my throat into flames. I was grateful for the distraction of someone grumbling to themself as they turned onto the street, because instead of spiraling, I was able to instead laugh as I realized who I had cut off a few traffic lights ago. I looked in the rearview mirror and sure enough recognized Sara, the sandy blonde, driving the ugly green Honda.

“Hmm… Well, I wouldn’t want to upset your girlfriend––” I bit my lip momentarily to keep myself from laughing, “––so I wouldn’t be offended if you said no.”

“Who?” Edward asked, but his smile had faded as his eyes watched my lips intently.

He looked back into my eyes after a second, blinking as he realized I was staring at him staring at me, then up at the car awkwardly pulling in behind me.

“Oh,” he chuckled as he realized who I meant. “I’ll be just a moment.”

I watched in my side-view mirror as Edward approached Sara on the drivers’ side.

“Hey, Sara,” he said as she cranked her window down.

“Hey, Ed,” she grumbled, kind of irritated. I should have felt guilty for disrupting her plan, but her irritation with Edward instead provoked my nerves. Also, the fact that she called him Ed bothered me too. “I guess you made it out alive. I’d have been here sooner, but Cullen cut me off. I got suck at a red light.”

“Did she?” Edward laughed. “Well, I’m really sorry, Sara. This is so nice of you, but Bella offered to drive me to school today. I’d cancel now that you’re here, but after she saved my life, I’d feel terrible doing so. Is it alright if I see you at school?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she snapped, trying to seem unbothered despite the tightness of her jaw and the edge in her voice.

“I’m sorry again, Sara. I really appreciate that you came here,” Edward smiled a dazzling smile.

“No big deal. I’ll see you at school,” she lifted the corners of her lips once before turning away, her mouth in a tight line.

He sighed watching as she drove past me and away before a crooked smile reappeared on his face as he walked back to my car. I didn’t have time to wonder if he would have preferred to ride with her. It didn’t seem likely.

“…Ed?” I asked as he crossed back to the passenger side.

“You heard that?” Edward chuckled. He slid his backpack off his back, opened the door, and dipped his tall frame into the car. He picked up the journal before settling into the passenger’s side, adjusting the seat to make room for his legs and backpack. “I’m not particularly fond of that nickname. Or any, for that matter. My mother called me Teddy sometimes. I prefer Edward.”

“I do too,” I agreed, breathing in the potency of his fragrance. I clutched the steering wheel tightly and swallowed dryly.

“So,” he began once he was comfortable. “Are you feeling more open today?”

“No,” I answered as I began to drive towards the school.

Edward sighed, but he shook his head, amused. Clearly, he’d decided to play nice too. “Do you ever get tired of ambiguity, Bella?”

Yes.

“No,” I teased, rolling my eyes. “I enjoy being mysterious far too much.”

“Mysterious enough to keep me up at night,” he egged on.

“I’m sure you slept just fine.”

“How’d you sleep?” Edward asked. I looked over at him, ignoring the tingling of my tongue in anticipation of the taste of his sweet blood. I should have thought of a response, but I was too busy fighting off my instincts to think of a lie. His pretty eyes narrowed in thought as he analyzed my face and the dark circles beneath my golden eyes.

Suddenly, I froze, my muscles locking down as he reached forward, his hand gently touching my hair. I didn’t dare breathe as the heat of his skin enveloped me in warmth. His hand lingered for a moment before it pulled back, holding up a broken piece of fern.

“You had a leaf in your hair. How’d that get there?” Edward almost whispered, his lips curved into a half-smile.

A strange electricity throbbed through my body, and the sensation was so odd. Like my heartbeat should be thrumming loudly in my ears. Deafening. But my heart was frozen and dead, so I only heard the beat of Edward’s. We sat in silence for a moment as my mind spun in the dizziness.

“Maybe I should have accepted Sara’s offer,” he joked after a moment, laughing, but I wondered what he made of the affliction I was trying to hide on my face. Around him, no matter my attempts at subterfuge, it felt as though my face was an open book in which he could read all my secrets. I refocused my eyes on the road, too distracted by the warmth of his pale face and the prettiness of his green eyes as the forest flew by in the window behind him.

“Maybe,” I agreed, smiling softly, smiling sadly. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should jump out of the car and run before I accidentally kill you.

“But,” he mused gently, trying to keep the mood light and playful. “She probably doesn’t have heated seats.”

His effort to comfort the conflict raging within me that he didn’t even understand worked. I snorted.

I continued driving, thinking of ways to bring up the journal.

“You look lovely today, by the way,” he smiled, appraising me. “Which is not to say that you don’t on any other day, but you do look very pretty.”

I felt oddly incomplete as I waited for reactions my body was no longer capable of. Reactions I’d forgotten. There was another strange sensation in my cheeks as if they should be very warm.

My head whipped towards him in surprise, my eyebrows pulling up.

“What?” He immediately asked in shock, his heart beat picking up. My reaction didn’t totally alarm him though, because his lips were still pulled up at the corners. Edward seemed to always be smiling. Or maybe smirking was the better word. “Do you not get compliments often? I find that rather hard to believe.”

“No, it’s not that,” I relaxed my face. “I was just caught off guard. Lovely…That wasn’t particularly something I’d expect a seventeen year old boy to say.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, easily grinning again.

“Are you even seventeen?” I found myself smiling in return.

“Are you?” He countered.

My mood darkened as my lips dropped immediately, but I fixed the smile back onto my face so he couldn’t see how exposed I felt.

“You know, my mom used to say that I was born thirty five years old, and that I get more middle-aged every year.”

“Hmm…” Edward nodded, his eyes narrowed again as he scrutinized me. I wondered if this clarified some assumption he’d made about me.

I turned into the school parking lot. I saw the gleaming cherry redness of Rosalie’s ostentatious car and desperately hoped she was already inside one of the brick buildings.

“So,” he prompted, his tone mysteriously patronizing. “Did you read this?”

I glanced over to see the accusation in his eyes as he held up the journal, but he didn’t seem angry whatsoever. They were still light. Still playful.

“What? No, of course not,” I defended myself. But my voice was unpersuasive, the pitch coming out a little too high to give my words any credibility.

I parked beside Rosalie. The car was luckily empty, so I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel. Ha! As if my sister would have confronted me here, and I’d have driven away, effectively kidnapping Edward… I scoffed at myself. I clenched the hand Edward couldn’t see into a tight fist, concentrating all of my strength in my fight against temptation into the way my fingers dug into my palm.

I turned my face to look at Edward, whose face was condescending, his thick eyebrows pulled up in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Maybe I look guilty because I considered it, but I didn’t actually follow through.”

His face relaxed into a crooked smile. “Okay, I believe you. I’d have forgiven you anyways.”

“Does that mean if I ask you about the contents, you’ll share?” I asked eagerly. I’d read so many books in my life that this new mystery novel easily became just like another book I was dying to read.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, chuckling. Edward reached for his bag, winking at me, and opened his door, ducking his head to get out. I swiftly undid my seatbelt and was out beside him probably much too fast, my backpack slung onto my shoulder. For a moment, I wondered if my siblings needed their useless backpacks too since we typically drove this car to school, but I figured Alice must have rescued them from the trunk after seeing my plans for this morning.

He blinked, looking down at where I suddenly appeared.

“Why?” I inhaled through my mouth, grateful for the influx of fresh rainwater and firs that helped dilute Edward’s scent.

His heart thrummed in his chest, and being so close to him, the sound was like thunder surrounding me as I listened, becoming attuned to it. The splash of puddles as tires hightailed through the parking lot, the slam of locker doors as students got their books, and the chatter of kids as they entered the school all seemed like irrelevant ambiance now.

“Because,” Edward breathed. His breath was shaky, but his face remained cool. The sweetness of the smell washed over my face, and I clenched my fist again. “That wouldn’t be fair whatsoever.”

“And why not?” I demanded.

“You expect me to entrust you with all of my secrets when you won’t trust me with just one of yours?”

He wasn’t wrong. But I couldn’t exactly divulge anything about the accident. I was already breaking too many rules. My own rules. My own promises I’d made to my family.

“How about…” I considered, though my thoughts were headed in a dangerous direction. “If you happen to have any theories, you can share one, and I’ll either confirm or deny it.”

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

“How is that worth the very much intimate documentation of my entire mind, Bella? That’s hardly sufficient.”

“Fine, I don’t care about your stinking journal,” I snapped, stubbornly poking my chin in the air a fraction.

He surprised me by actually throwing his head back to laugh.

“Are you done?” I asked.

“You’ve got a bit of a temper, don’t you?” he considered this for a moment, beaming. “Okay, I’ll accept these conditions. But later.”

“Later?” I demanded, feeling a sense of injustice as I froze in place. He continued forward and took a bite of his apple. The juice spilled out sweetly into the air, but the fragrance was unappetizing and certainly not as sweet as Edward’s blood.

“Thank you for the ride, Bella. I’ll see you in biology.” Again, he winked, walking backwards. He saluted me, waving once with the journal in his other hand and then turned around, clearly enjoying having the upper hand as he and temptation disappeared into the crowd of students.

I stood there, my mouth propped open. The sensation of being watched started to creep up on me and sure enough, I turned to find Rosalie ten yards away outside of the building to her first period. Her eyes were dark, cold, and fierce with betrayal. Guiltily, I looked away and headed off towards my first class.

Throughout my morning classes, I tried not to think about my family’s –– or rather, Rosalie’s –– opinions on my decision this morning. At this, I failed miserably. As I imagined explaining how really if I didn’t stay away from the boy, it would prove that I actually could leave him alone and exercise control against Alice’s visions, I started to find my logic extremely flawed and unbelievable. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I was just too pigheaded. I tried not to think about this too.

Instead, I thought again about the secrets of his journal. Wasn’t this essentially the symbol of everything I’d been obsessing over? All of my wonderings and curiosities as for why he was so annoying and his eyes so perceptive could all be unraveled in that little book. I wondered if I’d be disappointed once the mystery was unveiled. Maybe the journal –– and by extension, Edward himself –– was not as interesting as I thought. I may have just been fixating on this because it was something different. But I told myself it’d be better for me to be disappointed. The sooner I could move on with my life.

Throughout the day, a couple of the braver students asked for details about the accident but became disappointed when I didn’t offer up the dramatics they were hoping for. I felt too shameful to discredit Edward’s accounts, so I irresponsibly dismissed the opportunities to ensure the accident yesterday hadn’t exposed anything unusual about me or my family. Eventually, as my monotonous account of the events spread through the tiny school, kids stopped asking.

I was impatient to get to biology, but before then, I’d have to face my siblings at lunch. When the bell rang after fifth period, I walked much too quickly to the cafeteria, dreading arriving but very much eager to get it over with. As I weaseled my way through the hallway –– which wasn’t difficult because even in the familiarity of the school, we were typically provided a wide berth –– I overheard the conversation of two other juniors. I froze in place as my plans shifted for the day. They discussed the difficulty of today’s biology pop exam, and I realized I wouldn’t have the hour of the day the school allotted to speak with Edward, the excuse I could provide my family in my defense. A freshman nearly rammed into me from behind, not expecting my sudden stop. Whoever it was recoiled immediately.

Well, I wasn’t going to miss out on whatever explanation he planned to provide because of some trivial pop exam. I rearranged my lunch plans, appreciating the excuse to postpone another family confrontation. We could battle it out at the long oval table later if necessary.

I entered the cafeteria and was second in the lunch line, only selecting a glass lemonade bottle so that the emptiness in front of me wouldn’t be unnerving for Edward. I figured it’d be more disconcerting to leave a tray of food in front of me untouched. I headed to a round table in the corner that was typically empty. This wouldn’t surprise my family when they entered. Alice would warn them.

I sat waiting as students filed in, either joining the growing line or meeting at their usual tables with their friends. I avoided Rosalie’s eyes when she entered the room, but I could still feel the iciness of her stare. I listened for Edward’s deep and soft voice to indicate his arrival, then when I couldn’t find it, instead listened for Sara’s to see if she may be with him. Sara was a loud, babbling talker, so it was easy to find her voice in the crowd of the hallway. She seemed to have gotten over her irritation from this morning as she animatedly spoke about some research she’d done the night prior into some potential colleges she might apply to.

I found that although I may feel some irrational resentment of her ability to be so close to Edward, I liked Sara. Maybe we would have even been friends if I was a human. And if her proximity to him didn’t bother me. She was prattling on about her dream of becoming a veterinarian, and her goals seemed so sincere that I almost felt guilty finding any enjoyment in having stolen Edward from her this morning.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t have intentions to do so again.

As I suspected, when Sara walked through the double doors, Edward was by her side. He was actively listening to her words –– always so polite to anyone who wasn’t me –– but once inside the lunch room, his eyes immediately flashed to the table in which my siblings were settling into. His thick eyebrows pulled together in confusion –– and maybe even disappointment? –– at the realization he didn’t find me there.

I was impatient as he purchased his lunch. Once he’d left the line, he still hadn’t noticed me sitting here. Maybe he was less perceptive than I gave him credit for. I felt a moment of awkwardness as I thought about having to get up, walk across the cafeteria, and ask him to join me in front of my family. I would still have done so, but I was immensely relieved when Sara noticed me.

“Are you eating lunch with Bella too?” The sandy blonde asked, her tone suddenly indignant. This time, I felt no pleasure in my thievery. Sara was right to want to reserve Edward to her human world, but I was too entranced with the mystery of his journal and the mystery of his mind to care.

Edward looked up, searching. His sage eyes were bright and animated once he found me here at the table. He held his tray in one large hand while combing the other through his untidy bronze hair. The arrogant confidence in his face made me smirk, and I rolled my eyes, lifting my hand to beckon him forward twice with my finger as if I was reluctantly pacifying a child.

“I guess so,” he laughed a little as he sauntered forward towards the table, leaving Sara behind gawking. I braced myself for the onslaught, inhaling one last fresh breath of air. How habitual this was becoming.

“I’m being gifted your presence outside of our biology class twice in one day? What did I do to deserve this?” He teased once he’d arrived, standing behind the seat across from me.

“Nearly die. I guess that’s a fair enough price to pay for my company,” I played along. If only he knew how true that still was. He grinned, his perfect teeth white and shiny. “Oh, don’t look so smug. I’m only here to uncover a mystery.”

“As am I,” he reminded me. I winced.

“Are you going to sit down?” I asked. He still stood behind the seat, tall and lean, a giant like my brothers. Not quite as towering and much slimmer, but still, I felt small in my seat looking up at him.

Edward leaned down to carefully place his tray on the laminate before comfortably settling into his seat as if we’d done this before. I glanced at his tray, curious as to his selection. A bottle of water, a grilled chicken salad, and a bag of dried fruit. I stared at the food for a moment as if this would provide me any clues about his mind.

“So,” he began. I looked up to meet his eyes and though I knew he’d be looking at me, I felt a jolt pulse through me. He caught something about my reaction, and a crooked smile appeared on his face.

“So,” I continued. “You were going to tell me about your journal.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I believe we agreed on a condition, did we not?”

“We did,” I admitted. “Go ahead.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure I’m actually ready to, Bella,” he pondered, and I felt odd again hearing him say my name.

“Why not?” I demanded, restless. Of course I was interested in the book, but I was also definitely interested in his theories. I couldn’t believe it had only been yesterday that the accident occurred. It felt like a lifetime ago. The same way that first day in biology did.

“I’ve only been given about twenty four hours to come up with any explanations.”

“And have you?”

“Maybe, but I have a feeling you’ll be very firm on only allowing one theory, so I want to hold out for the theory I’m most confident on.”

I frowned, and Edward laughed.

“Don’t worry though. I’ll tell you about my journal anyways. As long as you promise–– no, that’d be letting you off too easily. As long as you swear to me that you won’t forget your end of the deal.”

“I swear,” I promised, smiling at the silliness of his command. I took this moment to breath in his powerful scent, to wrestle with my desire.

“Hmm… I wonder if it’ll upset you,” his forehead crumped in thought. My patience was wearing so thin that the inexorable cloud of lust for his blood had little impact in comparison to the sudden aggravation at his procrastination.

“Oh, Edward!” I groaned, exasperated. “Would you just tell me? What could possibly upset me?”

For whatever reason, Edward burst into laughter at my outburst and couldn’t seem to stop.

I glared at him, and he tried to choke back his humor unsuccessfully. The irritation in my eyes didn’t deter him or instill any sense of fear in him. Briefly, I wondered if he was mentally sound.

“Okay, well, you can just go eat lunch with your little friends, and I’ll stay here and talk to myself.”

“Don’t be mad,” he pleaded as another laugh escaped. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so impatient. And for what? My uninteresting little journal?”

“You’re annoying, did you know that?”

“Maybe, but you’ve chosen to sit here with me, so you must like me for some reason,” he pointed out. For some reason indeed. Once again, he was right on target. My mouth gaped open.

“Okay, I’m getting up––”

“No, please, Bella. I’ll behave myself now. I’ll tell you about my journal. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” His smile was dazzling, and his eyes were fierce, sweet, and sincere. I was mesmerized, stuck in the seat across from him.

“Okay,” I said stupidly.

“My journal,” he began seriously, “is sort of a Bible.”

I waited for him to laugh again.

“No, really,” Edward did laugh but not as though he’d told a joke. “I know that’s kind of strange.”

Religion had never been a major facet of my life. A dozen memories flickered through my mind of the times as a human where my mother Renée had gone through impassioned phases where she attended church, trying on multiple denominations and religions for size. But just like the rest of her sudden and fleeting interests, her spiritual high wore off, and we never spoke about God or church again. Only when I became immortal did religion take a more permanent place in my thoughts. But it was only the proximity to Carlisle that made me consider spiritual beliefs, and even then, it was simply another topic to devote thought to in all the endless space in my head and all the endless time in which to fill it.

I didn’t know particularly what I believed nor if I cared much, but I did know that if Edward was religious enough to tote around a bible at school, he’d definitely not be pleased to know he sat across from an actual vampire.

“You carry around a bible?”

“Well, don’t make any judgments yet, alright? It’s not exactly a bible. It’s kind of difficult to explain.”

“I think I can keep up,” I said simply, feeling slightly awkward but still curious. I glanced down at his untouched food. “But you should probably eat.”

“And what about you?” He asked, eyeing my full lemonade bottle.

I unscrewed the tin cap for his benefit. Following my lead, he opened the plastic container of his salad. I waited impatiently as he slowly ate his food.

I watched him as he ate, but when his eyes flickered curiously up to me, I fixated my attention on the lemonade bottle, tracing the mouth of it with my pinky finger.

After a few moments, Edward spoke up. “What are you thinking?”

I looked up to meet his light green gaze and felt stuck there again, compelled to reveal everything.

“I’m trying to figure out what you think I am,” I admitted only one of my concerns, though even this was much too honest. I thought of the inspiration he could draw from his religious text. The second beast. The Nephilim. Cherubim. Demons. Even though I didn’t have a true understanding of the contents of the book, some of Carlisle’s paintings had provided me with enough of an idea.

“I’m not having much luck with that yet,” he answered.

I laughed, relieved. “Well, you have only been given twenty four hours.”

“What else are you thinking?” he asked again, sensing there was more.

I sighed, feeling uncomfortable under his analyzation. The weight of his watchful eyes was too penetrative.

“That a boy who carries around a bible probably wouldn’t like me very much.”

“Why? Are you a sinner?” He smiled teasingly, but his eyes were soft as he tried to pull me again from the gloominess that seemed to steal me away.

“Something like that.”

“Well, aren’t we all?”

“Not all dogs go to heaven,” I answered. He chuckled at how I butchered the expression.

“Hmm… I’m not sure if I absolutely believe in a heaven, but if I do, I think the prerequisites to make it in are much broader than the Christian faith teaches.”

“You carry around a bible but don’t believe in heaven?”

“I said I’m unsure. And I said it was difficult to explain, didn’t I?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I hardly understand what you mean the majority of the time either.”

We both laughed, and the synchronicity of the moment made me forget my intentions with bothering him in the first place. It made me realize that in a way, I actually did feel fondly of Edward.

“Here, I’ll explain. I’m done eating anyways.” He used a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth, then pushed it away on top of his lunch tray.

“My mother was very religious,” Edward began. “She wasn’t pious or bigoted or forceful about her beliefs. She was kind… devout. She believed in goodness. Her entire life had been dedicated to caring for other people. She wasn’t someone whose true intentions were to condemn others with the hope to save them from hell. Rather, she seemed more focused on saving someone from unhappiness. A lot of other believers have been known to connect with someone only for the end goal of forcing them to change the way they live for the sake of feeling as though they saved them. She had always been offended by this insistence to control another’s lifestyle, believing that any Child of God should truly only be concerned with loving others.

“I have pages of verses ripped out from her bible stuck throughout my journal. It may seem sacrilegious to destroy a bible in that way, but she’d read through it so many times that it had completely fallen apart. I tried to save it when she died, but there was no hope to. It was too dilapidated and tattered. So in my own journal, I have all these notes I’ve written on the notes she wrote in her bible. All these confusing erratic writings, these scribbles, I’ve been trying to sort out, just trying to figure out how to be a good person.”

At the end of his speech, my mouth dropped open. Quickly, I closed it again.

“So, do you believe in a god?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“I’m not sure what I believe. If you don’t believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, then a god seems to be just as reasonable an answer as anything else. But I do believe in science as well. And once again, I don’t believe that any higher being who created the entire universe would be so particular and unyielding on such frivolous, harmless human matters as to what you do…or who you love… I’m hesitant to speak about god publicly, not because I fear any kind of persecution for my complicated beliefs, but because I know that the church has caused a lot of damage to a lot of people. And I don’t want anyone to think I support any of that harm. But for innocent believers, I see nothing wrong with wanting a reason to hold onto hope if that’s what religion is for them.”

“Neither do I,” I agreed, thinking of Carlisle.

“I think at the core of any religion –– and I definitely am interested in studying other religions as well –– is the same message. To do good by others and yourself. Of course, historically, religion has been weaponized as a means to take control over innocent people, but in considering people like my mother… I sincerely hope that there is a god. For her sake.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry.” Edward smiled his crooked smile. “I’m not about to try and sell you some religious propaganda. At no point will I sit you down and ask, ‘do you mind if I take a moment to speak about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?’ That’s never been my mission. I’m not entirely certain whether or not I even consider myself religious.”

“So what is your mission then with the journal?”

“Perhaps this will sound a little pretentious, but it’s not so much that I’m curious about the chicken or the egg scenario… Evolution versus creation… I don’t care very much as to how we got here. I guess because my mother believed so profusely, and I consider her to be such a great person, I’m curious as to whether our morality is innate as people, or if all goodness is because we have some kind of spirit within us leading us to want to do right by other people. I think overall, it is innate. An atheistic individual can do wonderful things for the world just as someone who claims to love Jesus can do terrible things. I don’t think anyone who doesn’t believe chooses to do good for God, but I wonder if that innate sense of morality, sense of compassion is ingrained into us because of the fact we do have souls. So the question I’ve been trying to answer all these years is… do we? Does my mother die, fade to nothing, with her body? Or did she live on because she had a soul?”

“Those are big questions for a seventeen year old.”

“Those are big questions for anybody, no matter their age. And questions humankind has been trying to answer for thousands of years,” Edward chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t expect to be the one to stumble upon the answers. More so, I’m really trying to find some purpose in my mother’s life. I do want to honor her, and maybe if I can understand all the things she wrote about people and about God, then I can.”

“So what do you write?”

“I write my thoughts on what she journaled about. And I write about all the good things I see someone do. About the reasons why I think they did them… I study people a lot.”

“Do you ever feel creepy?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he laughed. “I mean, it’s not that I’d be the type to watch someone while they sleep. But if someone comforts a friend, picks up a stray piece of trash off the ground, smiles at a stranger… I try to take notice. I want to notice people.”

Edward sighed. “I know this must sound arrogant, but I really do believe I’m very sensitive to the thoughts of other people. At least, I try to be. For example, I know Sara must not be very happy that I chose to ride with you this morning, or that I am sitting with you now. I’m not oblivious to her feelings for me. But it’d be very ungentlemanly of me to accuse her of those feelings if she prefers to keep them secretive, so I’ll define a boundary if needed to protect her feelings whenever she chooses to come forth about them. I’d like to retain our friendship, but I still make my own choices.”

“So…” I began, ignoring his point about Sara. “Let’s say we all did have souls. Could someone lose that soul by any chance?”

“Hmm…” he thought, his eyes intent, piercing into mine as though he were trying to read my mind. “Now, that’s a big question for a seventeen year old.”

I laughed along with him.

“Well, I’m not sure whether or not you can lose your soul –– if we have them, of course. Perhaps you could damage the integrity of it or compromise it somehow. Could it be lost in death? If there is something of a heaven, does that automatically imply the existence of a hell? What purpose does hell serve in torturing one’s soul for eternity? Justice? Do some people perhaps deserve that fate? I want to say no, but then you think of awful, malicious people who have done awful, malicious things. Murder. Genocide. Rape. Isn’t the losing of your soul in death, fading into nonexistence too easy of a punishment? Do those people warrant a judge, jury, and executioner? I would hope that there are consequences to evil actions, but I don’t understand the idea that if such a place exists for the most vile of humanity, nonbelievers and sinners would go to the same place as well according to the Christian faith. I would say on that front, the Bible must be profoundly off. That aspect has to be invented by man for a means of control. What creator would wish such a fate on someone so innocent as to simply be uncertain about a god? So does a nonbeliever or sinner simply cease to exist, therefore losing their soul? Or is there some kind of alternative? Like a purgatory in the Catholic faith. That too seems a cruel fate from what should be a loving God.”

I felt slightly uneasy, wondering what he would think of my non-life, if he would consider this to be the alternative for innocent sinners. I wondered if he would believe I had a soul.

Edward softened his expression at my discomfort. His eyes were gentle and kind.

“But I don’t think I believe that. Like I said, I think the division between good and bad, right and wrong, is less black and white than most religious people believe. I think it’s gray, and I think any higher power would realize that too. So if you’re making that face because you’ve sinned a little here and there or murdered somebody, maybe you can make a comeback.”

Edward winked, and I forced myself to laugh.

“So would yesterday earn me some points?”

“Oh, definitely. You’ve practically merited an angel status.”

This time I did genuinely laugh at the thought of me as an angel.

“But again, as for what’s considered sin… I don’t subscribe to the majority of what’s considered biblical canon.”

“You don’t have to continue with the disclaimers. I believe that you’re not judging my sinful ways.”

“Correction, I don’t believe that God themself is judging you for your sinful ways. I never said anything about my judgment of you.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling at the smirk on his face. “I’m not at all surprised that you have a god complex. That seems about right –– you do come off like the type to be very judgmental.”

“I’m notoriously difficult to impress,” Edward half-smiled. “Are we continuing this conversation in Biology, or are you growing tired of the dark and the heavy?”

“Not yet,” I answered. “But I overheard that we have a pop quiz, so you’ll have to save your pretty boy disciple thoughts for later.”

He chuckled as I stood up from the table, reaching to grab my untouched lemonade bottle and cap to throw away, then stopped me.

“I’ve got it,” Edward placed the bottle on his tray to dump into the garbage. I watched curiously as he pocketed the bottle cap.

“I’d say thank you, but I know you’re only trying to win points in the eyes of God.”

“Anything to get into heaven,” he laughed.

* * *

y’all know i had to make edward a lil christian boy. u know edward is the i wanna church girl who go to church… and reaaaad her biiiible vine. i do want to clarify again… unlike stephenie mormon, i have no agenda in speaking about religion in this fanfic. i’m not particularly fond of labels, but i am more agnostic than anything so… i’m not tryna convert anybody to anything. it just seemed very “classically edward” as rosalie would say.

i hope u enjoyed! i also wanted to say i really, really appreciate the comments! i haven't replied bc... i'm shy but i read them & truly feel very flattered. ♡

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight #midnight sun #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella

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inorganicone2230 · 5 years

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Divine Intervention (Part 4) Yandere!Erasermic x Fem!Reader

Part 3 Part 5

Summary: Sometimes a little divine intervention is necessary to take back the ones we love… whether they want it or not.

Warnings: Suicide, kidnapping, forced relationship, emotional and mental manipulation, typical Yandere behavior, possible non-con in future chapters, see tags below for more

Side Note: Elements of non-con in this chapter!

Please Enjoy!

Soft.

That was the first word that came to mind as you wake up and your eyes tried to open. ‘Since when has my bed been this comfy?’

You never really had much trouble with waking up. The moment you would hear your alarm or phone go off you were bright eyed and out of bed in an instant. So the fact that you were having such a hard time jostling yourself from sleeps clutches was slightly alarming to you.

Your mind was groggy and you couldn't seem to come up with the strength to even lift your arms to rub the crust from your eyes. Your mouth also felt dry, like you had been sucking on cotton balls all night.

Wait…

Last night!

Instantly the cloud of sleepiness was gone and you shot up right. Those two weirdo lookalikes had kidnapped you! But wait… before you had passed out, they had changed. Changed to look more like their counterparts from the dreams. It certainly didn't take a genius to put two and two together to come to the realization that they were one and the same. The room you were in proved that much.

It was a room you knew all too well. From the bed the size of two kings covered in extravagant blankets and fluffy pillows, to the walls draped in lavish wall-scrolls and tapestries. The scenes depicted ranging from epic battles and iconic moments from mythology, to tranquil gardens, forests and lake sides. Even the size of the room itself, you could fit three of your apartments in here and still have room to move around.

It was the same room the two men shared in your dreams. Though, you were beginning to suspect that they were never really dreams to begin with. Not ones that your mind conjured up all on it's own at any rate.

Despite only being awake for a few moments, the knowledge of the situation you currently find yourself in was undeniably terrifying and you wished more than anything that you could write it off as just another dream. However, you weren't stupid OR gullible enough to actually let that thought progress further.

For starters, you were interacting with the environment. You could move your body and touch with freewill. You could look around as much as you wanted, or not at all if that's what you chose. All the other times you you were merely the dreams puppet, moved and positioned against your will. You weren't even allowed to blink or close your eyes, all you could do was stare blankly ahead at whatever was in front of you.

These changes alone were enough to assure you that this was real. Or something that felt substantially real at the very least.

You wanted to go back to sleep, to close your eyes and let this hell fade into the back of your mind. To cover your ears and pretend you were anywhere else.

But your looming fear was to great. The questions you had racing through your mind were to big to let you try and forget where you were. You needed to figure something, anything out about your situation.

You slowly began to crawl off the oversized bed. You needed to look around and get your bearings, who knew when those psychos would come back.

With your feet firmly planted on the floor you first took note of how you were dressed. You were no longer wearing the clothes you had last night, instead you wore a simple silk robe that just brushed the tops of your feet. Black with emerald green vines winding around it. You felt sick at the thought of one or even both of them taking off your clothes to put you in this thing! At least you could still feel your underwear. That was something…

To be honest, despite it being their bedroom, there wasn't much to see or find. Nothing that you saw as useful anyway. There weren't even any visible doors along the walls, not even a seam for a secret one as far as you could tell! And all the windows were too high up for you to reach, even if you stood on something.

You had seen it all before, but now you were getting to touch and look more closely. You saw the masterfully crafted low-sitting vanity table that -The Golden One- Hizashi usually did his hair in front of, brushes, ties, hair sticks and other little trinkets scattered about it's smooth polished surface. A large bathroom like area complete with a built in hot spring. And a few dressers and trunks, each filled to the brim with beautiful and intricate clothing that looked more like it belonged on the set of a period-piece style movie than in someone's personal wardrobe, there were even a few modern articles scattered about. It wasn't hard to figure out whose clothes were who's, though you were incredibly disturbed by the sheer amount of women's clothing and undergarments you found. You had a feeling you knew who they were meant for and that was something you just weren't ready to think about yet. There were other things to, like a writing desk and a small library in the back of the room, but nothing else really.

You took a seat back on the bed and began to think. Why were you here? What did they want from you? How could you get away? Were they going to hurt or kill you?

You highly doubted that they were going to do something as drastic as kill you! They did go through all the trouble of kidnapping you after all, they even went so far as to put you in sleeping clothes and even let you sleep in their bed! But even so, you were beginning to panic again. Whatever calm rationality had affected your thoughts upon first waking was dwindling down to nothing. Your knuckles were turning white with how hard you were gripping the sheets and breathing was becoming difficult. The only sound besides you labored breath was the rush of blood in your ears as your heart pounded louder and faster than ever before. That's probably why you almost missed it.

The sound of a sliding door.

Your eyes shot up from the floor to see them standing in a doorway that had not been there before. They were smiling at you as if nothing was wrong, as if they hadn't kidnapped you.

“How are you feeling Kitten?”

“Did you sleep well? We tried to make you as comfortable as possible.”

The sound of their voices made you feel like you had been doused in ice water. You shot up and ran to the other side of the bed, you knew it was a futile effort but you needed to put space between yourself and them.

They watched your actions and looked at each other, sighing in unison.

“I suppose we should have expected this kind of reaction.” Shouta said.

“You don't have to run away from us Sweetling. The last thing we would ever do is hurt you.” Hizashi tried to reassure you. “Why don't you come over here and we can talk, so we can explain what's going on.”

You snapped, “How about you tell me right now and then go fuck yourselves!” You knew you should probably stop while you were ahead, but you weren't done, not by a long-shot. “ I want to know what is going on?! Why am I here, who are you and why do you look like them?!”

“Your here because this is where you belong. It's where you have always belonged.” Shouta replied. He said it with such certainty, such conviction.

“What the fuck does that even mean?! I don't know you freaks!” You shouted in frustration.

Hizashi stepped forward and held out his hand to you, like he really expected you to take it. Yeah right, as if?!

He must have made the brilliant deduction and realized that you weren't going to accept his offer because after a few moments he dropped his hand into the long sleeves of his robe. He pulled out a small vial, it's contents shimmered a faint silver. “If you come over here and drink this, everything will make sense (Y/N), we promise. Just be a good girl and do this for us.”

Unbelievable. They were crazy, that's the only explanation there was. You told them so, “You must be crazy! Deranged! Absolutely certifiably fucking insane if you think that I would ever drink something that came from your hands!” You were beyond being civil by this point, you were livid and coupled with your mounting fear, the words just wouldn't stop. “I would rather slit my own god damn throat and choke on the blood then do anything for you two!”

You saw them stiffen, their eyes widening with some emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Fear? Shock? Anger? It could have been any one of them… or all of them. All you knew was that the second the words left your mouth, that it was the wrong thing to say.

Faster than you could even comprehend what was going on, they were on you. How had they moved so quickly?

You had a sense of déjà vu as you backed up, right into a wall. The two of them crowded you, glaring down at you as Shouta took your chin firmly between his fingers, squeezing so hard you thought it might bruise. It made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You will never say something like that in front of us ever again! If you do, I promise you will not like the outcome. Do I make myself clear?”

All your bravado from a few moments ago was gone, replaced by crippling fear with how close they were.

Shouta however, was not satisfied with your lack of response and gripped your chin with more force, his eyes flashing a menacing shade of red. “Answer me! Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.”

Self preservation was a powerful motivator, it was probably the only thing that made you able to speak at all. “Yes! I understand!” You scrunched your eyes closed and cowered further into the wall.

His eyes softened and his hold on your face relaxed with your submission as he held your cheek in the palm of his hand, stroking his thumb back and forth across the smooth skin. “I am so very sorry for frightening you Kitten, but you have to understand how hurtful it is for you to say such things to us. The very idea of you being hurt, even at your own hand is not something we even want to think about again.”

‘Again?’ What was that supposed to mean?

Hizashi picked up right where Shouta left off and spoke next, “Just drink your medicine, everything will make sense once you do.”

You shake your head, eyes still unable to meet theirs willingly. “I-I can't! I-I don't want to! Please just take me home! I don't want to be here…” Tears brought on by both fear and frustration slide down your cheeks.

“We're sorry Sweetling.” You highly doubted that. “But we can't do that. This is your home now, and it will be forever. It would be in your best interest to get used to it.” Hizashi said matter of factually.

You felt numbed by his words. Logically you knew you had no chance of getting away on your own, they obviously weren't human, and that knowledge alone was enough to send your mind reeling. A small part of your brain was telling you to give in and just do as they say, that it would be easier than trying to fight a losing battle.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to do it… the unknown was just too scary.

“I figured this was how it was going to play out. She always has been a stubborn one.” You heard Shouta admit. “Do you want to do it this time Zashi?”

“Stop talking like you know me!”

Your outburst went ignored.

“Of course! It's not as if I have to hold back this time after all.” He shot you a filthy grin that made your skin crawl.

You tensed up, you had a feeling you knew what they were talking about and you clamped your mouth shut tight just in time to feel Shouta grab you by the arm and yank you closer to him. Your back was pressed against the firm lines and ridges of his well defined chest and abs and he used only one arm to keep both of yours pinned to your sides in some twisted version of a backwards hug. You still couldn't believe how flipping strong they were! You wanted so badly to scream at them to stop but you knew you had to keep your mouth shut.

“Can you give me a hand here Shou?” The blond asked before uncorking the little bottle and pouring the liquid into his mouth.

You felt him nod from behind you and suddenly felt his other hand come up and cover your face. More specifically, your nose! He was trying to force you to open your mouth by cutting off your only other source of oxygen! You began to thrash and jerk around, kicking out your legs in an effort to knock him off balance. To bad for you he was like a fucking statue, the only sound he even made was a deep groan when your backside rubbed up against a certain area on his body.

But with no oxygen to sustain you, your movements quickly ceased. You felt lightheaded and against your wishes, your body finally took that involuntary breath it was so desperately craving.

Large hands took hold of your face and a warm mouth latched onto your own at the same time you felt Shouta’s free hand move up to your forehead and pull your head back, keeping you locked firmly in place.

You would have tried screaming, but Hizashi’s kiss was forcing the contents of the vile down your throat and you really didn't feel like choking. He moaned into the kiss and slide his tongue against your own. You had the fleeting thought that you should bite down like you did before but it was like they could read your mind, because Shouta’s breath was suddenly ghosting across your ear, “If you try to pull that same little stunt you did last time, you're going to regret it… Now, just be a good girl and enjoy it with us.” He whispered hotly and took your earlobe between his teeth to give a slight nip. The action sent an unwelcome heat curling in your core and you felt ashamed when it made your panties dampen with desire.

You knew he meant what he said and so you stayed perfectly still while they continued this assault on you. Hizashi continued to kiss you, and you felt drops of the liquid slide down your chin and neck. His hands having moved from your face to your waist, pulling you towards him and grinding his hardening cock against you. Shouta meanwhile was doing much the same, holding you in place and rolling your ass slowly across his bulge while his mouth worked on leaving all sorts of marks on either side of your neck.

You did your best to tune it out, to pretend that you were anywhere else but in this situation. But trying to do that was proving to be a challenge as unwanted arousal and something else were burning inside you. You suspected it had to do with what you drank, the effects reminding you of sleeping pills. You felt lethargic, your body was heavy and you knew if you were to lie down and close your eyes that you would have no problem falling asleep if you wanted to. Unlike the stuff they forced you to drink last time though, this one didn't make you feel like you were going to pass out.

Eventually Hizashi pulled away from your lips, leaving you gasping for breath. He smiled down at you with a dopey grin on his face, “You did so well Sweetling! We just need you to give it another moment to kick in.” He praised you, like a parent congratulating their child on getting a good grade.

“Don’t worry Kitten, you'll understand everything in just a few moments.” Shouta continued, nuzzling his nose into your neck and taking a deep inhale. “Fuck,” he groaned, “I had almost forgotten how utterly fantastic she smells Zashi.”

Hizashi gave the other man a filthy smile before locking eyes with you, “She tastes fucking good too. I can't wait to bury my tongue between her legs and get a real taste. It's been far too long.”

You were still trapped between them and unable to move much, but that didn't stop you from trying, or voicing your displeasure. “Get the hell off of me! Stop touching me already and start explaining what is going on!” More useless struggles. “Why do you two keep talking like you kn-”

All movements and protests from you came to a crashing halt.

“Looks like it's started.” You heard one of them whisper. You didn't know which one though.

You were being bombarded by images, images that you had never seen before, but you somehow knew every detail about them as soon as they flashed before your eyes. You saw a little girl who you knew as yourself, dressed in clothes worn by people thousands of years ago and playing with other children by a pond, spending time with your mother in her garden, helping your father gather firewood for the coming winter. These and so many more filled your mind to the point of bursting, an entire lifetime’s worth heaped upon you in a matter of seconds until finally, only a few remained…

-Bending down to pick up the weak little Cardinal with the broken wing, cradling it ever so gently in your hands as you rushed home to tend to it.

-The weeks spent patiently caring for it until it could at last fly again.

-Meeting the birds owners a few days later, two handsome men, one light, the other dark. They came to express their gratitude for the kindness you showed their little pet, telling you that they lived in the area and had heard from the villagers in the market that a girl fitting your description had been carrying for it. You would come to regret not questioning their words further.

-Becoming friends with them over the course of the next few months. You simply assumed they were lonely living in the mountains by themselves and you enjoyed the company as well, you never felt the need to give it much more thought.

-That fateful night they came to the home you lived in by yourself. To tell you who they really were, The Gods of Life and Death. They proved it when one killed a hare without touching it and the other brought it back with a touch of his glowing hand.

-You were shocked of course! But you asked them why they were telling you this all of a sudden. Their answer left you speechless.

-They said that they loved you. That your kindness concerning the Cardinal had endeared you to them as well as the months leading up to this night. They said they had come to get you, to take you back home with them.

-You refused. Bowed and told them that while you were honored by their opinion of you, you had friends and your parents here. A life that you loved and didn't want to leave.

-They did not seem to take your rejection to badly. They appeared saddened, but otherwise seemed to respect your decision, even offering to make you some tea before you went back to bed, with the assurance that you wouldn’t lose their friendship as a result. You happily accepted. That was a mistake...

-They did something to the tea, waiting until you had gone back to bed before stealing you away. The drug making you fall into a deep undisturbed sleep, only to awaken later on in an unfamiliar place. They told you that you were just confused and that you would come to love them in time, that they would show how much they loved you. Your pleas and wishes to be let go fell on deaf ears.

-The time with them in that beautiful prison was a nightmare. Day after day, night after night. Being forced to spend all your time with them no matter how loudly you screamed to be let go. Being forced to share their bed with them as they used your body, all while they called it making love. The pleasure they forced upon you did not make it bearable and pleading and begging did not dissuade them.

And finally…

-Reaching your breaking point. They were so convinced of your feelings for them, that you truly loved them and simply did not know how to express it. They were so wrapped up in this fantasy that they never even considered thinking you would try to hurt yourself.

-You used one of the hair ornaments they had gifted you with to slit both your wrists and even stab yourself in the heart for good measure. It stung, but the pain was worth it. You laid back and waited. In that time you had a few more thoughts pass through your mind but in just a few moments everything was black. Nothing.

--------

You came to, blinking in astonishment, and still trapped between them.

“W-What was…”

“Do you finally remembered (Y/N)? Do you understand now why we've done this? Do you understand just how much we love you? That we will never let you go? Never!” Hizashi whispered across your lips, pulling you even deeper into his suffocating embrace.

“It was so very selfish to do that to us darling.” This time it was Shouta. “Do you have any idea what the last five thousand years have been like for us? We have had to live without you all this time and it was nearly unbearable.” His grip on you was bruising.

You were still in too much shock to really pay attention to what they were saying. You remembered everything! It didn't matter that these memories might have been fake, they felt real, and that was all that counted. Because deep down in your soul, some part of yourself that you couldn't lie to, told you that they had been very real.

And this knowledge gave way to fear. You now knew exactly what they were capable of doing to you, what they were willing to do to find you and keep you. Panic set it. “How?!” You gasped, “How did this happen?! Killing myself was supposed to free me from you two, so how am I still here?!”

They must have decided that it was safe to let you go because all at once they released you, stepping away to simply watch what you would do next.

“We don't know why your soul did not fade. We have a few theories but nothing concrete.” Shouta started, “Shortly after we found your body, we realized your soul was still here and we rushed to rectify your mistake. We set your soul down the path of reincarnation, we spent all this time doing everything in our power to make sure you would come back to us someday, and here you are at last. Our sweet darling girl is home for good.” You could hear the sickening love in his voice as your head shot up to glare at them.

“Not for long! I got away from you two maniacs once, I can do it again!” You declared. Where there's a will there's a way.

They both looked at you, then each other, then back to you before Hizashi let out a deep mocking chuckle. “That won't ever happen Sweetling. We have taken measures to see to it that that will never happen. Measures we did not take before because we were foolish enough not to consider every possibility.”

You felt a cold dread wash over you at his words, “What k-kind of measures?”

“Just simple things really, like making sure your never left alone. From now on, one or both of us will be with you at all times. It will be a very long time before we give you any kind of privacy again. But the biggest one is the contents of the medicine we gave you.” His voice was filled with such joy at the mere thought of it.

“Wait… wasn't that... just to make me remember? To restore my memories?” You were definitely losing it now and for every step back you took, they took two to follow you, until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell. You scrambled to roll over and crawl away from them but it was to late, they were already sitting on either side of you. Picking you up with ease, Shouta settled you into his lap while the blonde moved to be closer to the two of you. Neither seemed to mind how hard you were struggling, they just continued on with their explanation.

“Yes, and no.” Was their answer. “You see, we added a little something special to the mixture that wasn't part of the original recipe.”

“Special?” You had the feeling you were about to regret asking that.

“Our blood.”

“W-What?!” You locked eyes with The God of Life and tasted bile on your tongue when you saw no sign of deceit on his smug face.

Shouta took over the talking again, calmly and rationally explaining what that meant. “We mixed some of our blood into it. You simply being here in the Heavens is enough to keep you young and immortal, that part is easy. But after your little -shall we say- transgression, we had to consider other things as well.” He paused to make sure you were paying attention and continued, “My blood for instance, should you ever manage to get yourself hurt that badly again, will make sure that your soul is sent directly to me. It will keep your body on the very cusp of life until your wounds have healed and I can reattach your soul back to it. Nothing short of me ripping your soul to shreds can ever kill you now.”

“And as for my blood,” Hizashi took you from Shouta as easily as if you were a rag-doll, setting you down in his lap this time. “it will heal you. No matter how severe the wound is, my blood coursing through you will make sure that you always heal and never scar.” He wrapped his arms around you and rocked you back and forth. “And as a nice little side effect, if you ever manage to get lost our blood will act like a beacon for us, we will always be able to find you now!”

“Not that you have to worry about any of this, they are just precautions after all. Nothing can or will ever harm you again. Not even yourself.

This wasn't happening! This couldn't be happening! You wracked your brain, trying to think of some way to get out of this, but every idea that came to mind was shot down. Every plan you could think of was foiled by these “precautions” they spoke of. And even if you could think of one that would allow you to avoid every one of them, how were you supposed to execute it if they planned on being with you every second of every day? You couldn't, you realized. You were probably stuck here indefinitely for the time being… for now anyway. The very concept had knots forming in your stomach.

All of this did leave you with one burning question in your mind though. One that you had been wanting an answer to for years.

“The dream’s?” You whispered quietly.

“Hmm? What was that?”

You clenched you fists. “The dreams. Why make me have those dreams?”

“Oh, those?” Hizashi replied. You hated how damn proud of themselves they sounded. “We wanted you to get accustomed to us and the palace again. We thought it might help make the transition a little easier if you already knew your way around.”

It was a simple explanation, one that brought you no satisfaction of any kind. But then again, you doubted that any answer they gave would have made you feel anything other than bitter.

You felt dead inside, numb and lifeless. How could things have gone so downhill?! Just yesterday you were a normal adult, working a normal job, living in a normal city in a normal apartment, spending time with your normal friends. Now you didn't know what you were or what you were doing. All you knew was that you wanted to be anywhere else but here.

The two deities fawning over you did not seem to notice or care about your lack of response to anything they said or did. They were too caught up in their reunion with you. To ecstatic over their plans success.

“You'll see,” one of them said, “things will be better this time. We will make you so happy the thought of leaving us will never cross your mind ever again.”

So, the next chapter will pick up right where this one left off, no time skip or anything. It was just getting kind of bogged down with too much exposition so I decided to split it in half. lol

As always, thank you again to @jadepillar18 for the inspiration on this story and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

#yandere!erasermic #yandere!erasermic x reader #yandere!aizawa #yandere!hizashi #yandere!aizawa x reader #yandere!hizashi x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #aizawa x hizashi #yandere bnha #bnha #gods au #kidnapping #stalking #forced consumption of foreign substance #elements of non-con #typical yandere behavior

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ain-t-bovvered · 6 years

Text

14x07 Commentary

Zeta and Giuls scream together, and then die.

Me & Zeta will watch together season 14′s episodes as they come out and we’ll do our commentary while watching.

1 2 3 4 5 6

14x07 Unhuman nature

Y’all still alive after Thanksgiving? good ok here some more pain.

-ugh niCK , I think he gone psycho

Zeta: the Devil going to the shrink

-Nah, he’s murderous, I feel that , look at that face.

N: “Feel so good”

.....see?

Zeta : A priest is gonna die....oh yeah

- FUCKING TOLD YA, shit.

-LOL hang in there

Zeta: dAMN

- Cass....Cas babe , baby, my sweet angel, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT FACE PLEASE U R KILLING ME

I don’t know why but I love how they made the light shine there. It looks so ....peaceful and pure. Also....you can see the cable of whatever they use for the ligh effect around Misha’s wrist. Still....beautiful effect .

-MY SON! MY BABY omg omg omg

Zeta : oh Cas.....fuck

-NAAAAAAH look at them worried parents.

Zeta : Have those plaid shirts got smaller?

me: Yes, they have heard my prayers from the last commentary.

-Look how worried they are omg, DAAAAAADS

- Oh...nice Darcy’s move Dean. If you are obsessed with pride and prejudice in general you know what I’m talking about.

-”I don’t know what’s wrong with him” he’s so frustrated (Castiel)

Zeta : fucking hell

- Help I’m hurting

-Hello, american health care

-...oh...oh I hoped they would have said “Winchester” as last name. Glad they didn’t or I would have died

Zeta : me too

- How quick Sam answer “May 18th” and the look on Dean’s face. Imma think it’s because he erased that day because 1. Cass and 2. Mom.

-” Stabbed through the heart and he exploded”

Zeta : Look how tiny the nurse is

-”We are right here”

3 giant men

Zeta : look at them

- uuugh nICk

Zeta : I don’t like him....at all.

- idk, we don’t know much. And his damage BUT, I doubt there is much of the real Nick in there.

-DAMN MUSIC

Zeta : next victim

... “Kellogg” ...

me: corn flakes.

Zeta : Though of that too

-Aaaaargh Knew it, fucking knew it.

-What if like the human part can’t live without the angel one.

- ....AAAAARGH THE TRENCH

Zeta :his ass hanging out. And look at Cass, he’s fucking naked.

YUM *slapping my own wrist* tis not the time Giulia!

- I love when the two fuckers are in sync again. How long until one dies, one betrays, one lies,one does something stupid?

Zeta : ROWENAAAA

-my god how I missed that Scottish lilt . “How sick is Dean?”

Zeta : Samuel SAMUEL

- Mom’s voice

- Lucifer’s son .

Zeta : aaaaaaaaand

Rowena : Yeeeeeet

Cute bumble bee appears

Rowena: * SQUINTS*

Zeta : poor kid

-Look at that precious bean

Zeta :Bollocks

Rowena: Damn I love him already .

-He already won Roweena

-Concerning parents #2

-me looking at Castiel offering his grace without even batting an eye

-TOLD YA. OMG.

Zeta : W T F

-No what what. WHAT. Are we finally going to see what the fuck happened to that other egomaniac bitch?

Zeta : Psycho killer

-Be safe with Nick. SURE

Zeta : bitch you didn’t

-Oh come on!

Zeta : run bitch

Zeta : Go to Vegas.

- THE MILK . ( honestly you know who drinks milk during a meal? newborns babies and from a tit....yall americans are nasty ok)

Zeta: “I’m done being special”, use a spoon for my heart Jack.

-NO U R NOT BABY

Zeta : Take him on a fucking road trip

-We all know Dean doesn’t disagree tho.

Zeta :Air quotes

-”There is a wee nephilim”

- NO WHAT IS HAPPENING. NO.

-Castiel: EXCUSE ME YOUNG MAN

Zeta : Don’t fuck with the oldest dad.

Zeta : Baby for some exercise

-My heart hurts so much

Zeta : HE’S GIVEN HIM THE KEYS

-”OH boy” omg ahahahahahahah IM CRYING

Zeta :Why am I looking at his hands

This is becoming one of my favorites scenes .

- *tiny animal noises*

-Well...ok now Dean has experienced giving driving lessons to his son. I CAN DIE HAPPY.

Zeta :”Let it ride” bitch

“It’s like I’m you”

“nO IT’S NOT”

THE FUCKING ARM OMG

-AHAHAHAHAAH I CAN’T

Zeta : i’M DYING

-no I AM DYING , I’M DEAD. NOBODY TALK TO ME

Zeta : I’m typing from the grave

- C: “ I feel the need to do something”

- S:”I know he hasn’t forgiven himself”

oh whAT A SURPRISE

-Jared and his friggin’ eyes

Zeta : Can someone please make Sam stop hurting?!!?

- “losing a .....son”

-He cALlEd hIM SoN

SON

Zeta :bow fucking legs

-look at dem legs

Zeta : “High on hook up potential”, taking both father and son to the dent of iniquity.

-DEAN NO

cut to Lucif- Nick beating a bitch

Zeta : FISHING

- that’s the Jensen insta pic.

Zeta : “I can tell”, he’s hurting so much

- OH SHUT UP. LOOK . AT. HIS. FACE.

- y’all heard Dean’s voice crack a bit there, right?

Zeta : “I’ve had a good life Dean”

-Don’t fucking look at me like that Jack

- LOL IS THAT MISHA’S CAR, WHAT THE FUCK

- steps out the car into a holy fire ring

- No I look hot af.

- * rolls over laughing because puffs and me: SAME*

-he’s so cute, I wanna smother him.

Zeta : down bitch

- me *foaming from mouth* Never for Castiel

- “I wouldn’t call Ketch STELLAR”

- “His name is Jack”

Zeta : rebooting like a computer, unplug Jack.

- HaVe yOU TrieD TO tuRn iT Off aND oN

Zeta : Vintage from Gabriel

- I DON’T TRUST HIM *squints* HE HAS ‘KETCHY’ EYES

- Winchesters owing you one, can you imagine?

- “Then what is it that you want” said it like that by Castiel....umpf yas

Zeta :Bloody hands

- But what is the purpose of Nick’s arc tho?

Zeta :there has to be some connection

to what??

Zeta : no fucking clue

-The fuck is he

Zeta : What the fuck is that?

-idk, ...oh he got possessed. Oh there it is , he’s gonna kill him anyway I just know it....or cut his hand.

Zeta : nail him

-NAIL HIM, BITCH

Zeta : sorry, I had to.

-ouch

- Ooooh he likes it. What is this music wtf.

Zeta :Tired af

-They are all so tired

Zeta : Why am I holding my breath?

-bitch same

Zeta : please

-OMG please save my baby.

Zeta : YES

- yaaaaaaas YAS

Zeta : OH MY GOD. Don’t let this turn out like Michael.

- THE PAT

Zeta : Fuck it did

- THE PAT TO CASS

- jACK CHOKES

Zeta : trial and error

- “the son of an archangel of the lord”

Zeta : castiel’s nostrils. He’s pissed.

-THE SNAAAAARL.

“I will find you”

...hot

Zeta : I will burn you to ash

-HOW DARE. The fuck does he thinks he’s doing

-NICK....oh he looks like Luci.

Zeta : He’s deranged

Zeta : WHAT

- ooooooh the Empty....of course....who is he

Zeta : Lucifer.

- ....OF COURSE

Zeta :fUCKING dADDY dEAN

- “You made him happy”

Zeta : as he dies?!?!

-NO U SHUT YOUR WITCH MOUTH

Zeta :NOOOOOOO

- I have goosebumps

Zeta No ...I do not accept this

If you want to get tagged in the future ones send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

TAGS: @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @destiel-honeypie @mariekoukie6661 @dragontamerm @closetspngirl @rainflowermoon @mattiecat @bunnybaby121115 @aliaitee @jacks-word-of-the-day

#spn season 14 #season 14 commentary #supernatural #spn #supernatural ep #supernatural episode commentary #spn episode commentary #commentary #14x07 #14x07 commentary #unhuman nature #spn 14x07

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colorofmymindposts · 6 years

Text

Hope for the Stars Complete

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Gen, Implied Doctor/Master

Warnings: Alternate Ending to series 10, Major Canon Divergence

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Status: This is the last update for my series The Doctor Falls officially, meaning the series is finally complete! Definitely read parts two and three for necessary context.

Word Count: 1753

Chapter: 2/2

Summary: Ohila and other parties have become suspicious about the Doctor’s whereabouts. They investigate and come to a startling conclusion.

Tags: POV Ohila, Interrogation, Time Skip from Previous Chapters

View my work here on ao3!

Even Ohila can admit to herself these days that she grows weary with involving herself in the personal politics of Time Lords, particularly of one who travels in a TARDIS disguised as a police phone box from Earth circa 1963 CE. Still, she and the Sisterhood of Karn are the only conduit through which the High Council has any presence in this universe. And this summons must be answered.

A rumor has been floating around of late, entailing the heroics of a mysterious lone traveler running about on planets, starships, desolate wastelands answering distress calls of the most extreme and dire nature. The distress calls no one would dare answer, save for the Doctor. The description of the time-space interdimensional capsule spotted by the locals matches that of his TARDIS, but this individual they speak of...should the accounts be true, this means the universe is in more peril than ever before.

Ohila’s present task is to verify whether or not the Doctor is still in possession of his vessel or if someone else has commandeered it. Whoever this TARDIS pilot is has been eagerly responsive to distress calls, so theoretically such a call for help to the surface of Karn should suit Ohila’s purposes quite well.

The precision is something Ohila notes to herself. Within just a few hours of the sending of the distress signal, the TARDIS arrives on planet’s surface. Her sisters stand guard in front of the cave leading to the Sacred Flame while Ohila conceals herself behind one of the many large rock formations.

Out of those doors appears one of the High Council’s most feared suspects in this case. Ohila has met her once in passing, when the Doctor had requested she deliver his Confession Dial to his closest friend: the Mistress, formerly known as the Master. Despite having a reputation for burning through bodies the quickest out of any Time Lord, the Mistress has retained the form Ohila last saw her in. The Time Lady is still dressed in what would be considered high-fashion in Earth’s Victorian era: a refined straw hat with ribbon and feathers protruding off the top tilts towards the right of her face, a well-fit violet evening gown overlaid by a similarly colored overcoat, and black leather boats that kick up the dust on Karn’s surface with the Mistress’s every step.

“Oh Sisterhood? Of the planet Karn? What do you lot call yourselves nowadays? Still Gallifreyans? Or has there been an upgrade? Karnivores, perhaps?” The Mistress stops and giggles to herself, invoking some humorous mood that Ohila does not share.

She continues on, unabated. “Admittedly, I was surprised by your call—”

“Were you, Mistress?” Ohila remarks more than asks as she steps out of her hiding place. The time has come for answers, now that she knows half of the truth.

The Mistress widens her eyes at Ohila, not in surprise but interest. Extending her right arm forward, the Mistress points an umbrella in the air, a whirring noise accompanying the motion. Sonic technology.

“My name not is the Mistress, it’s Missy,” the Time Lady states as she lowers her umbrella to her side. “And I suppose I should have known that your distress call was fake. The Sisterhood of Karn is never under threat from any species, unless some stupid person gets the bright idea of stealing your Elixir of Life and thinks they can match you.”

Ohila acknowledges along with a nod, “You would be correct.”

The Time Lady stiffens her posture and rests both hands on her umbrella handle while flashing a truly delicately put-upon smile. “What is it you want then, anyway?”

“We already have discovered what we wanted. We now know that you have stolen the Doctor’s TARDIS,” Ohila answered.

The smile quickly sours. “Wait, wait, you think I stole this?”

Ohila simply arches an eyebrow.

“Alright, I’ll admit I’ve had a certain history involving theft of the Doctor’s property. But I can assure you that this was...passed onto me. To be more accurate, she’s chosen me.”

“Who has?”

“The TARDIS of course, why are Gallifreyans such numpties about their own tech?” Missy huffs, assumingly rhetorically. “She’s sentient. She called out to me for assistance before I even knew what was about to happen, but she was trying to tell me I was, and now am, her Plan B to freely traveling the universe as she once did with the Doctor.”

Ohila dismisses this all as lies and trickery characteristic of the Time Lady. She resumes her questioning, while discreetly signaling her sisters. “What have you done with the Doctor? Why have you been answering the cries of help from the universe in his stead? To impersonate him and gain the trust of whole worlds, only to eventually conquer them?”

“No!” Missy cries out somewhat desperately and defensively. “You don’t understand, that’s not what I’m doing...not anymore.”

She appears to quickly recover from the lapse in demonstrating personal weakness, flipping right back to the irrational and inappropriate sense of humor upon which she seems to rely. “Although that would have been a good long game plan for when I was evil.”

“Was?” Ohila asks disbelievingly.

“Yes. I’ve turned over a new leaf, went cold turkey, made a new millenium resolution, whatever you want to call it I’m—better than I was before. I am trying to help the universe now ‘in his stead’ because it’s what’s right. As to your other question, the Doctor is dead.”

Ohila is, for a singular minute, unable to process this information. Of course, after what the Doctor did on Gallifrey with displacing the human girl out of her timestream, Ohila did not want to see him for quite some time; he almost jeopardized the safety of the universe to end his self-centered guilt. Now he has fated them all to eternal subjugation to the most unstable of all renegades through the sheer act of his own death.

“You are responsible for his death,” Ohila eventually says rather than asks.

The intense eye contact they share is finally disconnected when Missy casts her glance downward, in a manner that Ohila would consider guilty if she did not know better. Without warning, her gaze is again set upon Ohila, but it is haunted, sorrowful, and vindictive simultaneously.

“I suppose in a way I am. Thank you for reassuring me on that particular detail, I’ve always wondered,” Missy admits so quietly Ohila can barely discern the words. The Time Lady then stares off into the distant setting sun of Karn. In her distracted state, the sisterhood has successfully managed to surround the Doctor’s TARDIS. They have her right where they want her.

“You have confessed to stealing the Doctor’s TARDIS and being the architect of his death. These are already punishable offences in Time Lord society, but they will certainly be worse considering the Doctor’s legacy as a war hero to the High Council and greater Gallifreyan public. Transport shall be arranged for your extradition to Gallifrey where you will face an impending trial and sentence for your crimes.”

If Ohila was expecting to illicit a response of fear, she was mistaken. Missy’s body practically crumbles in onto itself while it pulses with her cackles and readily apparent humor. It is an unsettling sight for a planet typically so devoid of laughter or joy.

“Oh you’re serious? Honey, if the Time Lords wanted to punish me for my crimes, they would have done so long before now. Or has the death of the Doctor touched such a nerve that they seek some sort of sanctimonious retribution?”

“They have relied on his aid for many centuries.”

“Well—tough!” The Time Lady suddenly exclaims with unforeseen rage. “They’ll just have to get used to the fact that I’m helping the universe. Personally, I think it’s an upgrade.”

Ohila nevertheless persists. “You are so insistent on this narrative, and yet there is no feasible explanation present for why you of all beings would abruptly change your moral compass if not for a selfish ulterior motive.”

Missy sighs, loud and long. It is not difficult to irritate her, it would seem. “The motives and morals have changed, but the goal has not. Even when I was planning on conquering the universe, I always wanted universal peace, ultimately. The Doctor’s...influence helped me correct my method.

I will admit that I haven’t been taking the same approach as he did. After all, we did have our differences. To start, if you’ve bothered to notice, there has been no haphazard rewriting of the timeline or bringing along human strays. I only help when asked for, I don’t need to save millions to stroke my ego, and I know how to fly and maintain the TARDIS better than he ever could.”

“You have a certain way of showing regret if you possess any,” she remarks accusingly.

“Oh Ohila,” Missy chimes in a higher pitch with an added sickly sweet tone oozing over the words. “I realize now why you’re in the High Council. Only a bunch of idiots sit up there delegating and twiddling their thumbs, passing judgment. You see, you’re quite mistaken. I have more regrets than you can begin to count.”

The Time Lady turns on her heel, her skirts fanning out and flowing with her steps, and stalks over to the line of sisters encircling the TARDIS exterior.

“Where are you going?”

“Where I’m needed, which has been made abundantly clear to me is not here.”

Ohila calls out firmly, “You will not make it off this planet.”

Missy merely smirks, a dark twinkle dancing in her eyes. Ohila has never seen a face so befitting of a deranged, ungrounded predator. With a snap of Missy’s fingers, the TARDIS doors open, knocking two of Ohila’s sisters to the ground with the force. While the fellow sisters rush to their aid, Missy calmly steps around the commotion and frames herself in the doorway of the TARDIS.

“Since I have thoroughly satisfied your request for my presence, I have something for you to do for me now,” Missy demands, gaze inspired and dangerous like that of a daring revolutionary. “Pass along a little message to the dear gang back home. Tell them: if they want me, they’ll have to clasp me in irons first.”

The doors shut, and in a moment the blue box dematerializes and fades from view. The universe will be subject to change and, for the time being, that is all that Ohila is able to tell.

#my writing #fanfiction #missy #the master #gomez!master #ohila #sisterhood of karn #doctor who #i finally finished a wip guys!! first time ever!#i'm so proud

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queen-of-deans-booty · 6 years

Text

Bedtime Stories- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,091

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, language, angst, implied smut, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

A few hours later, you were waiting by the Impala while Sam and Dean talked with the paramedics who took the teenage girl away to get her help. You sighed and stared at the apple, trying to think where this little girl might have come from. Sam and Dean walked back over to you and you bit your lip, tossing the apple to Dean who caught it.

“Does this thing mean something to you?” Dean asked, tossing the apple to Sam.

“I think it’s Snow White.” You said, making Sam nod his head.

“Snow White? Ah, I saw that movie. Or the porn version anyway, because there was this wicked Stepmother? Woo, she was wicked.” Dean grinned and you rolled your eyes, continuing your thought process.

“There is a wicked stepmother and she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple.” You said, catching the apple when Sam threw it back to you.

“But the apple doesn't actually kill the girl, right?” Dean asked.

“No, it puts her into a deep sleep that makes it seem like she’s dead. But, I have another theory…” You began.

“You think the girl is Snow White, per say, right?” Sam filled in the pieces.

“Yeah. She flickered away and in her place, was the apple. I think, whoever she is, her stepmom tried to poison her.” You and the brothers looked at one another before nodding. It was clear what you needed to do. You needed to go back to the hospital to see if there were any comatose little girls that could possibly be doing this.

“No, I’m sorry, we don’t have any comatose little girls,” The nurse said when she came back. You were all dressed up in your professional clothing, ready to get answers but there was none to be taken.

“You sure?” Sam asked.

“Totally. It’s mostly just old guys and well… Callie. She’s been around before I started here,” The nurse said.

“Callie?” You asked, not sure who she was.

“Yeah, it’ so sad. Poor Dr. Garrison, he just… won’t give up on her.”

“Is Callie one of his patients?” Dean asked.

“No, his daughter,” The nurse said in a sympathetic tone.

“Which room is she in?” You asked, getting the information from the nurse. You thanked her and you three walked down the hall, towards the room she was in. You stopped when you saw Dr. Garrison by his daughter’s bed, reading to her. But she wasn’t a little girl, she was an adult girl who wasn’t responding to anything. Was this little girl Callie?

You three watched the doctor read a bit until he looked up and saw you by the window. He shut the book and stood up, walking to the door and out of the room.

“Detectives. Can I help you?” He asked.

“We just... heard that Callie is your daughter,” Dean said, sympathetic.

“And we wanted to say how very sorry we are,” Sam added.

“Well, uh. Thank you. If you'll excuse me.” Dr. Garrison said, pushing past Sam and Dean, walking down the hall.

“Oh, heading this way? We'll walk with you,” Dean said, him and Sam walking with the doctor. You looked at Callie and knew if you could just touch her, you would know for sure if she was the little girl or not. You opened the door just as Sam and Dean’s voices got farther away. “How long's Callie been like that?”

You slipped into the room and closed the blinds to have privacy. You looked at Callie, seeing her there, hooked up on life support. You didn’t like this any more than anyone else did but it had to be done. You walked over to her and sat down where her dad was sitting.

“Hi Callie, it’s me. Remember seeing me in that house? You showed me that you were poisoned. Is that what happened to you?” You said to her even though you knew she wouldn’t answer. You felt like something was behind you and you turned around, seeing the little girl again.

“Is this you?” You asked her and she nodded.

“I need you to show me what happened, okay?” You said to the little girl before touching Callie’s arm. You gasped and got the Supernatural vibe from her just as a vision clouded your eyes. You saw the little girl, Callie, and what looked to be her stepmother, talking. It seemed normal at first until the stepmother was forcing Bleach down her stepdaughter’s throat. You gasped and withdrew your hand, knowing what had happened to her.

The door to the room opened and you expected it would be Callie’s dad but it was Sam and Dean who was looking confused.

“What happened?” Dean asked, seeing your pale face. You got up and looked at the end of the bed but the little girl was no longer there. You got up and took Sam and Dean by the hand, leading them out of the room. You didn’t want to do this here. You walked down the hall and let go of their hands just as you let go of the breath you were holding in.

“Callie is the little girl. She was poisoned by her stepmother. That’s why she gave me the apple.” You said in a quiet voice.

“We know. Dr. Garrison told us the whole thing.”

“No, she showed me what happened to her. I touched her arm and I saw it being played out.” You said, sighing.

“Wow, you can do that now?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know Dean. I’ve only had this happen once when Meg was possessing Sam but I thought it was because she is a demon. This is so freaky to me.” You were panicking on the inside.

“It’s okay. This actually might be a good thing to have.” Dean tried to make you feel better.

“Yeah, right, what did you guys find out? Anything new?” You asked, biting your lip.

“Yeah, kind of. Well, it’s a theory. You know fairy tales and I know movies. This is just like what happened in The Sixth Sense. There was a part in the movie where a mom kept her kid sick so that she would get all the attention from her husband. So, say all these years, Callie's been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what mommy dearest did?”

“And after all this time her spirit just gets angrier and angrier, until it finally just starts lashing out,” Sam said, putting the pieces together. You and the brothers walked into the reception area but you didn’t know where you were going. You needed to tell this to Dr. Garrison.

“Right. Meanwhile, she has to listen to Dad tell her these deranged stories about a rabid wolf or a cannibalistic old lady. It's enough to drive anybody nuts.” Dean pointed out.

“Okay, but how are we gonna stop her, I mean Callie's stuck here, her father's keeping her body alive,” Sam said.

“It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones,” Dean said.

“You think?” Sam said, exasperated.

“We have to tell her dad. Maybe the only reason she’s doing this is because her dad is keeping her body alive?” You said but you were cut off when the doors busted open and EMTs brought in an old woman on a stretcher, yelling out things.

“Okay, what's her status?” Dr. Garrison asked when he walked to the situation.

“Seventy-two-year-old female sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is eighty over forty and falling. Sinus tachycardia.” One of the EMT’s reported. They wheeled the woman right past you and the Winchesters. You started following them so you could hear what happened to her. They wheeled her into a room to look at her and take care of her. They left the door open and you watched.

“Is that a bite?” Dr. Garrison asked.

“Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or, maybe a wolf?” Another EMT said.

“What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?” Dean asked his brother.

“Little Red Riding Hood,” Sam said and you sighed, knowing this was the work of Callie.

“Excuse me,” Sam said, stopping one of the EMTs who walked out of the room. Sam flashed his badge at the EMT and began his questioning. “Was she the only victim?”

“She was found by the side of the road, barely alive. Alone.”

“We need to find her next of kin,” Dean said. The EMT looked through the paperwork he had in his hands for the answer.

“She has a granddaughter.”

“Do you have an address?” Sam asked. The EMT hands Sam a sheet of paper with the address and walked away.

“Okay, you guys go to the address, I’m going to stop Callie. Okay? You’re both stronger than I am so go!” You ordered. They nodded and left you alone. You nodded and turned back around to find Dr. Garrison but he wasn’t with the woman. You walked through the halls to find him and saw him down the hall by Callie’s room.

“Dr. Garrison! I need to speak with you.” You said, catching his attention. He stopped and waited for you to catch up with him.

“Detective. What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s about Callie.” You said, biting your lip.

“My daughter? What about her?”

“Why don’t we sit and I’ll tell you,” You started to say but he wasn’t having any of it.

“No, what about her?” Dr. Garrison asked, clearly annoyed.

“Okay, well, this isn’t going to be easy to tell you but what happened to Callie wasn’t an accident.”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Garrison scoffed.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

“You have no idea what happened to my daughter.” Dr. Garrison said angrily and turned away from you but you followed him.

“Doctor, there are things you just don’t know about your wife,”

“My wife?” Dr. Garrison looked at you, offended.

“She poisoned Callie.” You told the truth but the doctor was pissed.

“Why would you say something so horrible to me?”

“Because I need your help.”

“You stay away from me and from my daughter, you understand?” Dr. Garrison said, pissed at you. He walked into his daughter’s room and shut the door in your face. You rolled your eyes slightly and opened the door, entering the room while closing the door behind you. Dr. Garrison saw you and tensed up, scoffing.

“I’m calling security.” He reached for the internal phone on the wall but you rushed over to him and placed your hand over his.

“No, listen, I don’t have time to do this gently. If you don’t listen to me, more people are going to get hurt. Callie is going to hurt them.” You tried to get him to understand this.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“You might not believe me but Callie is here. She is still here but she’s a spirit.” You said. Dr. Garrison’s hand fell from the phone and sighed.

“So, you’ve seen her too?” Your mouth opened in shock but you closed it immediately. “I sensed her… Callie. Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at the foot of my bed but I never... believed it, I thought I was dreaming.”

“It wasn’t a dream. She looks like she did when she was eight. White dress. Red ribbon in her hair. She's been trying to talk to you.”

“You’re not a cop, are you?” Dr. Garrison asked with a sigh.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then who are you?”

“Someone who knows a little bit about this kind of thing.”

“But what you said about my wife poisoning Callie…”

“Callie told me. She showed me.”

“What?!”

“Not with words, but in her own way. She told me.”

“My wife loved Callie. So how is–how is that possible?”

“I don’t know but it is.”

“No. No I–I don't believe you.”

“Look, Callie is killing people. She’s angry and desperate for you to hear her. No one will listen to her so you have to. Please, listen to what she’s saying.” You said and he nodded, turning to his daughter. He sat down and touched her arm.

“Callie? Callie, it's Daddy,” Suddenly, the spirit of Callie flickered into the room, standing behind her father. “It's me, Daddy. Is it true? Mommy did that to you? I–I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now. Daddy's here. Please honey, is–is there any way that you can tell me?”

“Doctor…” You said, catching his attention. You pointed behind him and he turned around, seeing his daughter.

“Is it true?” He asked his daughter and she nodded, not saying a word. “Oh, I'm so sorry, baby. But listen to me. You gotta stop what you're doing, okay? You're hurting people. I know everything now. I know the truth. It's time for you to let go. It's time for me to let you go.”

Dr. Garrison sighed and he stood up, tears in his eyes. He knew this was the hardest thing he has ever done. He reached over and pressed a few buttons on Callie’s life support machine and in a few seconds, the monitor buzzed and flatlined. You got tears, knowing you were close to losing your loved one.

This is going to be a tough year.

You had called Sam and Dean to let them know that Callie was taken care of and all was good. They came back to the hospital and you were with them with Dr. Garrison by the nurse’s station.

“And the girl's okay?” Dr. Garrison asked about the woman’s granddaughter. Dean nodded and the doctor sighed. “So, it’s really over?”

“Yeah, all thanks to you.” You said with a small smile.

“Callie was the most important thing in my life. But I should've let her go a long time ago.” The doctor said with a sigh. He patted Sam and Dean on the shoulder before walking away.

“You know what he said? Some good advice.” Dean said suddenly and you looked at him with angry eyes.

“Is that what you want us to do? Just let you go as if you don’t mean the world to me?” Dean didn’t answer you but stare at you before moving to Sam. He turned around and walked away, leaving you alone with Sam. You got tears and you looked up at Sam who had them too.

You and the Winchesters decided it would be best to get some sleep before heading to wherever the hunt would take you next. But you couldn’t sleep. You kept thinking of the look Dean gave you before he left you alone and how angry that made you feel. You knew you shouldn’t do anything stupid but you couldn’t help yourself.

You woke up, noticing Dean has moved away from you and you looked around, not seeing Sam in his bed. You looked over and saw the bathroom light was on and figured he was in there. You better get out before he came out.

You got up and quickly but quickly got dressed, noticing the Colt was nowhere to be found. Dean probably hid it somewhere but you didn’t need it right now. You grabbed what you needed and headed out the door to where you knew it would work.

You got to a crossroads—it took a while—and opened the box you had, placing your photo inside of it before burying it in the ground. You waited for something to happen and when you turned around, you noticed a woman in a black dress with red eyes.

“Wow, Y/N Y/L/N. I remember you when Dean was thinking of replacing his life with Daddy’s. But now, I see he did it anyways,” the crossroad demon said to you. All you did was glare at her. “What can I do for you, Y/N?”

“You know what I want,” You said, your jaw clenching.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to end the contract on Dean’s life.” You demanded of her but you had no weapon so it wasn’t fair.

“And I see you didn’t bring anything to defend yourself with. You can’t make the demands if you don’t hold all the cards.”

“Let him out of his deal!!” You yelled at her.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but Dean is a big boy. He made the deal of his own free will, fair and square. It’s ironclad.”

“Every deal can be broken.”

“Not this one. Y/N, look, I’m just a saleswoman. I got a boss like everybody else. He holds the contracts, not me. He wants Dean’s soul, bad and believe me, he’s not going to let it go. Although…” The demon said, smirking.

“Although what?”

“I know all about you and what you’re meant to be.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your soul, Y/N. Everyone knows who and what it’s meant for and my boss would love to get his hands on it, even more so than Dean’s. I can make you an offer but one of you is still going to Hell.”

“Make an offer? What are you… you want my soul?”

“In exchange for Dean’s. He can get off Scott free but I’m going to need your soul. It’s worth more than Dean’s.” You bit your lip and thought about it. You would be saving Dean, saving him from Hell and that was good enough for you.

“Fine, take it. As long as you leave Dean alone.” You said, scared about this but it needs to be done. You were meant to die, not him.

“Great, I’m assuming you know how this works?” The demon smirked, puckering her lips. You gulped and walked closer to her, ready to kiss and seal the deal. Just as you were getting closer to her, a shot rang off and you jumped, not expecting it to happen. The demon’s skeleton lit up orange and she fell to the ground, dead.

You whipped around to see Sam there, with the Colt, glaring at you.

“Were you really just going to sell your soul for Dean?!” Sam yelled at you.

“LIKE YOU WOULDN’T DO THE SAME! I can’t lose him, Sam, I just can’t. I don’t know what to do anymore.” You let the tears loose and Sam pulled you into his arms. You cried against his chest, feeling defeated. You hated feeling this way but you didn’t know what else to do.

And why was your soul so special?

Series Rewrite Junkies:

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greekowl87 · 7 years

Text

Fic: Midnight Blues

Sequel to (Tried and True). I am tempted to maybe do a small series with this for early MSR since I don’t feel like I write it enough. Anyways, enjoy. Post ‘Beyond the Sea’ and ‘Lazaurs’. Tagging @today-in-fic .

Scully was a forensic pathologist. She studied death. She examined, recorded, and cataloged it. She can give the dead voice. She spoke from beyond the grave when they no longer could. But experiencing death, on a personal level--well, nothing was easy about it. She had hoped her objective, rational scientific views would make the blows easier, waging a war against her own emotions that threatened to swallow her. So far, she had been winning but her defenses were waning.

The death of her father and seeing a vision of him right before the news of his death had been delivered. Jack coming back from the dead not as himself. They were still fresh on her mind, the barest disturbance sending pain through her inwardly. She had witnessed and experienced things she could not understand despite her attempts to explain it through science. Scully was beginning to have a lot of days like that, especially when it came down to working with Spooky Mulder. Except he wasn't spooky or weird. The more time she spent with him as her partner, the more he pushed and challenged her, the more she grew as a person. He respected her and treated her equally. The more she realized the rumors about Mulder were just that: rumors. But after the latest incident of Jack not claiming to be Jack, kidnapping her, that deranged woman, dying...she could not make head or tails of it. Jack's death and also ravaged her still healing grief of the loss of her father. Both weighed heavy on her like the cursed albatross around her neck.

So that Friday, when the clocked ticked to five o'clock on a Friday afternoon with the promise of a case-free three day weekend, Mulder perked up and smiled. "No cases, Scully and a three day weekend!"

"Huh?" She blinked and shifted her focus to him. "Oh yeah. Big plans, Mulder?"

He paused before answering her. Mulder had a lot of difficulties reading Scully. She kept her cards close to her chest and rarely let her emotions show except 'I'm fine, Mulder.' He had glimpsed at the woman named Dana Scully briefly when the FBI SWAT team stormed the building in her rescue but she was quick to recover. "You okay, Scully?"

She forced a smile that could have fooled almost everyone but him. He was slowly learning her tells. "I'm fine, Mulder. Just going to catch up some errands and work on a journal article. You know me, living it large."

Another thing that Mulder had noticed that Scully thought she hid from him was the dwindling social life that she used to have. He was not stupid. He heard things and he could make the connections. His late-night calls and dragging her across the country was beginning to take its toll. Only a month ago they were ready to kill each other over space worms on top of the world and somehow, someway, something shifted and sparked between them, a very primordial trust. Maybe it had been born the night she came to his hotel room in Bellefleur, but something had changed on top of the world and somehow, despite his crusade, she was becoming a very important aspect of his life.

"Nothing with your family?"

"I kind of wanna be left alone," she shrugged. Her blue eyes shifted towards her briefcase. "I have a lot to get done."

"I'm sure," he deadpanned.

"What about you?" There it was. That false cheerfulness.

"Oh you know, hanging out in chat rooms, talking conspiracies and what not."

Scully had finished packing her things. "Well, don't get into any trouble so I have to save your ass. I want a quiet weekend."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a playful smile and she returned it with a slight quirk of her lips. "Have a good weekend, Mulder."

"You too, Scully."

She took a deep breath, sighed, and walked out into the hallways, her heels clicking against the sterile floors, each one making Mulder wince as he could only imagine what was going on through Scully's head.

. . . .

Scully had sat in her car in the parking garage beneath the Hoover Building for a half hour trying to decide what to do. She watched random agents pass, even saw Mulder loosening his tie as he jogged to his car, and she sat there wandering her place in the universe. Etha left after her first case and the first late-night call. Probably for the best. After seeing Ellen at her son's birthday and Tom Colton being a prick, what had been her social network absolved into one person, not including herself. Although she was annoyed with the late night calls, she enjoyed them. She enjoyed verbally sparring with Mulder and how he saw her as an equal. She kind of wished that he would call her tonight but she told him not to. But what were the odds he would listen? Then again, he looked awfully happy. Maybe he had a date. She was aware of what the female agents and sectaries said about him. As she shook her head and pinched her nose, the grief came back as a tension headache, like a spike being drilled into her skull as punishment for her father's and Jack's death.

Fuck it. She needed to numb it. She needed to numb those threatening emotions that wanted to drown her. She was going to treat herself tonight.

. . . .

What many people did not know about Dana Scully is that she was a woman of simple taste. Her FBI persona screamed ice queen and her apartment declared itself worthy of a photo shoot in a home decor magazine. But deep down, she liked to be comfortable. Comfortable clothes, comfortable food, comfortable atmosphere.

After she left the Hoover building, she headed home to change into a pair of jeans and sweater. She grabbed her jacket and purse and left her phone. She drove to a dive bar at the other end of Washington near to Alexandria and let herself unwind. It started with a glass of cheap chardonnay in a wine glass that seemed to be made of plastic or cheap glass. She sipped it tentatively, trying to prolong the eventual buzz the alcohol would produce, but she grew hungry instead. Throwing her habit of eating healthy and dieting to the wind, she ordered a burger with onions, bacon, mushrooms, and cheese, and of course, onion rings, the obvious choice. As the bartender took her menu away, she chuckled to herself, imagining what Mulder would say if he could see her at this moment.

She took a deep breath and tried to visualize the moment. Her head was already lightheaded from the wine. The bar was smoky. She could smell someone smoking pot somewhere (those were the college days). The leather stool was too plump and made her feel like a child. She expanded her hands across the grainy, splintered wood of the bar trying to purposely get a splinter and forget at the same time. The grief was too much. To feel was too much. Maybe she should call Melissa tomorrow.

Suddenly there was a chuckle, loud and very familiar. She opened her eyes and clutched the short wine glass and bowed over her drink. She could not let Mulder see her like this, outside her armor and so exposed.

"Scully?"

Shit.

She closed her eyes and straightened her back as she felt a comforting hand graze her shoulder in greeting as he slid into the barstool next to her. She forced a smile and turned to him. Mulder smile faded as he read her face.

"You here with a date," he teased, knowing she was alone.

She swallowed and nodded curtly. "I was but he ran off. Some big meeting or something."

"Those can be annoying."

"They can." Silence ensued and she played with the wineglass uncertainly, fidgeting, something Mulder had never seen before. "I don't want to keep you from your friends."

"They'd understand."

"Mulder!" A short man with glasses called. "You coming, amigo?"

"Come on, Mulder!" A tall lanky man with blond hair and glasses added.

Scully closed her eyes and turned down her head, bowing as if in prayer. At that moment, Mulder still to this day does not know why felt bad...he felt sad...he felt the need to comfort his greenhorn partner who was supposed to spy on him but had, unknowingly, become his friend. She played with the wineglass. "I'm fine, Mulder. Really. Have fun. I'll see you Tuesday." He could hear how her voice strained to keep from breaking. "I'm fine. Really."

Mulder looked to Lone Gunmen and with a simple shake of his head and a frantic wave of his hand, they left grumbling. "You don't seem fine," he stated softly.

"Is that the profiler in you?" She gulped her wine and grimaced. "Am I that pathetic?"

"No," he spoke softly. "You're not."

He rose his hand and ordered a Shinerbock quietly. The bartender asked about food. "I already ordered," she supplied weakly. "A burger."

"You want to halves like we usually do?"

She nodded slightly, unable to keep her defenses from crumbling. Why was she acting like this? She kept quiet, trying to figure out how to regain control of her emotions in as Mulder ordered the fried veggies basket and cheese sticks for them. Why now, she pleaded, was she coming undone? The bartender passed him the beer and walked away. Mulder gazed at the tv, watching the late night basketball scores scroll across the screen. "This seems very unlike you."

She shrugged. "You get to see a side of me that no one usually does."

"Beneath the Ice Queen is a warm center?" She glared him in annoyance and he gave a warm smile. "Sorry but not sorry. It's nice to see you so..."

"Normal?" She sighed in exasperation and rolled her head. "I hate when people automatically assume that I don't have feelings."

"I didn't mean that, Scully."

"I know, Mulder." She sighed. "I just needed to mix things up."

"How so?"

"Are you asking as a shrink or my partner?"

"I'm asking as your friend."

The forbidden word slipped between them like a grain of sand in an hourglass. Insignificant but still so powerful. Scully gulped and cleared her throat. "We're friends?"

"I...I like to think so."

She nodded and focused on her wine. There was a long silence before she spoke again. "It's the deaths. My dad and Jack. I can't...I can't explain it, Mulder. I know I shouldn't feel guilty but I do. I feel like it is my fault." She finished the rest of her wine and Mulder grabbed her wrist lightly. "What?"

"For once, let go?"

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Don't behind those walls I see every day," he spoke softly. Scully's eyes lingered on him cautiously. She had heard the same voice from on top of the world. "Come on, Scully. I can see every day how much it hurts you."

Fucking alien worms and the top of the world. Scully waved her hand and ordered a vodka soda with an orange slice. Mulder ordered himself a second beer. "You really want to hear what I have to say?"

"I'm better than a preacher," he told her, crossing his heart.

She bit her lip and suddenly just surrendered. She surrendered to her emotions and to feel. She submitted to being the perpetrator of her father and Jack's deaths. "It's my fault that my father and Jack died," she confessed softly. "If I had not joined the FBI my father would still be alive. If I had acted quicker Jack would still be alive." She snorted as her bartender brought her drink. "I'm supposed to be the brave daughter, the dutiful one. Dad had his hopes long ago that I was going to make the family proud and be a doctor at a famous hospital. I shattered him by joining the FBI. Jack. Oh, Jack, what false love." She downed her vodka in a few quick sips that left Mulder stunned. "I've always been attracted to powerful men. And with Jack...I don't know what I felt, Mulder, but I know it wasn't love. I never loved him." Scully had tears in her eyes. "It's my fault they died. If I had done something different, maybe they'd be alive. It's all my fault, Mulder, all of it."

It must have been the alcohol talking, Mulder mused because his Scully would never be this open. But he reached out and took her hand. When was the last time someone had touched her so...purposefully? Intimately? Would she trust him? Not emotionally of course. No, she had built stonewalls that no siege could penetrate around her inner self. However, underneath all that, the warmth between them. But at the base level, her hear knew. The warmth of his hand swallowing hers and vibrating through her entire being spurned a memory and she recalled being held on top of the world. That after everything, she could trust him. Without thinking or control of herself, Scully threw herself uncharacteristically into his arms and cried. Mulder stood in shock, if he moved, something would go wrong. Not knowing what to do, he patted her shoulder and tried to speak soothingly. It was the briefest minute that seemed to last a lifetime. Quickly, as if coming out from under a spell, Scully reclaimed herself. She wiped her tears and looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry for my outburst," she eventually admitted as the bartender brought her a third drink, more vodka for the pain and for her embarrassment. She was averting her eyes, fixated on the gnarled wooden bar top. "It's not like me."

He reached out to reclaim her hand and squeezed it quickly, a sign of solidarity. As she shifted her gaze to their joined hands. Mulder coughed and quickly withdrew it in a weak attempt to hide a cough. "Scully, you're okay. What do you say? Stay here a little longer with me? I'm starving and haven't eaten dinner yet. We have all those food coming and I'd hate to waste it."

"I get first dibs on the cheese sticks," she mumbled.

"It wouldn't be right if you didn't."

About twenty minutes later as Mulder and Scully in silence, their food arrived. The scent of greasy and unhealthy foods mixed with the atmosphere of the dive bar caused Scully hummed appreciatively. Without thinking, Mulder plucked one of her onion rings. They continued to ear in silence as the clock ticked and Mulder could really study the rare relaxed and causal Scully.

"You want to talk about it?" Mulder pushed the cheese sticks towards her.

"Not really. I don't want to be reminded how depressing my life has become." She shrugged. She reached for a cheese stick, dipped it in marinara, and took a healthy bite. "Their deaths reminded me how alone I really am. My life is the work and that's it. No time for social lives or anything else. You remember when you were chasing the Jersey Devil and I was on that date? I was hoping that you would call so I could go away. I would rather go chasing monsters with you than some lousy date."

He weighed his words carefully unsure if it was the alcohol or her talking. "I...I know this has taken a lot from you, and I know you consider me a little arrogant."

She scoffed. "A little?"

He gave bet a boyish smile. "A lot." She finished her drink and ordered another one. "I just want you to know I appreciate you and everything you've done."

"What have you done with Mulder and who have you replaced him with?"

"Haha, very funny."

Mulder cut the greasy burger in half without asking and deposited part of it on his own plate. "You really went all out. Mushrooms, onions, bacon, and cheese? I should ask if aliens abducted you?" he chuckled.

Scully was just beginning to feel the warmth in her cheeks, knowing her pale face was already flushed. But sitting her with Mulder, some other warmth was working through her. The way Mulder just reached into her personal space without asking, how normal it felt. Maybe wasn't truly alone. "Do you know the probability of us both being replaced by aliens would be, Mulder? Besides, you know little green men don't exist," she dismissed, reaching for the ketchup.

Mulder paused and smiled slightly as Scully slipped into the comfortable thing they had, whatever it was. "Yes, well, if you are a replacement, your previous version at least knew how to share." He took some of her onion rings as well and pushed the fried veggie basket towards her. "I hope I didn't order this for nothing. You know I only eat the fried pickles."

She smiled softly and picked up a fried mushroom cap. She dipped it into the ranch sauce and took a bite, hissing slightly at how hot the food still was. He chuckled at her and she slapped his bicep. "So, did I steal you from those strange little people?"

"Hm? Oh, the Gunmen? No."

"The Gunmen? Are they a band or something?"

"Something like that," he smirked. He took a large bit of the burger and spoke while still chewing his food. "I'd much rather spend it with my partner anyway."

Scully was surprised by the admission and she knew he was telling the truth. She gave a knowing smile and looked down at her own food. It wasn't one of his late night calls that she got but this was so much better. He looked up to the TV and frowned. "I can't believe they're already talking shit about the Yankees and it isn't even spring training," he cried foul.

"You like baseball?" she asked, wondering what else she did not know about him.

He nodded and flashed her another smile (there are a lot those tonight) and she somehow knew they were just for her. "Yankees fan and Knicks fan are the main two. What about you, Scully?"

She shook her head slowly. "I really never had an interest or time to watch sports, Mulder."

"Really? Huh. Well, maybe we can go to Camden Yards and watch a game this spring." He shrugged absently. "Let's play twenty questions. You asked me one, I'll ask you. Who's your favorite author?"

She blushed and shoved an onion ring in her mouth to give her time to think. "Truman Capote," she said, still chewing the food. She swallowed the onion ring and smiled. "My turn."

. . . .

In a cab, she slept blissfully against him in thanks to the alcohol. It was two a.m. and in a rare change of routines for him. Friday nights, if he was not on a case, were either spent bullshitting with the Gunmen or drinking a local bar alone and passing out. But tonight...there must have been a blue moon or something. When he saw Scully sitting alone at the bar, he had been moved by pity. How many nights had he spent in the same position? So he went to check on her. Then he was moved to make her feel better. Caught between the guilty of death she should not carry and loneliness, he stayed with her. Something must have changed in the few short months between them that he couldn't explain. But he ended up staying, splitting dinner, talking and laughing, learning things about the small redhead agent that was sent to spy on him who he, at the end of this night, considered a likely friend and guaranteed ally in his quest. She only sought to help him and he would return the favor however he could. Right now, that was being the pillow to his drunk and passed out partner.

She murmured something and snuggled against his side as the cab slowed to a stop outside her Georgetown apartment. Mulder quietly paid the cabbie, ignoring the smirkful glares and got out of the car first. He did not have the heart of wake her so he fished for her keys and grasped them lightly in his hand as he bent back into the cab and lifted her easily. She really was small, he smiled slightly. Carefully he maneuvered her up the wake way and down the hall to her apartment. He unlocked the door with some difficult and closed the door with his foot.

Unsure of what to do and spying a blanket on the back of her couch, Mulder carried her into her bedroom and lay her on the bed. This was completely unknown territory for him and also very out of character, but somehow, she was bringing things out in him that he thought he no longer had. He strolled out into the living room, grabbed the blanket, and draped it over her. She murmured something in her sleep and he smiled. Taking a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, his fingers lightly traced the shape of her cheek, and he smiled.

She murmured something, waking up in a haze. The darkness hid their faces but she somehow knew it was him. "Mmph. Where are we?"

"At your apartment," Mulder spoke in a low voice. Scully closed her eyes, remembering when he held her at the Icy Cape and how his chest rumbled when he spoke like that to her. She let the memory wash over her like a wave. "I'm going home. Call me in the morning okay?"

"Mm 'kay," she yawned. "Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?"

"Thank you. For everything tonight."

"It's nothing, Scully."

"To me it is." She yawned again. "Not alone. Got you."

"You're talking nonsense."

"'M smarter than you. Know what I'm talking about." She blindly groped for his hand and gave it a quick, light squeeze. "Take my apartment key. I have a copy. Meant to give that to you last week."

Mulder was touched by the additional gateway into her personal space. "Okay. Call me tomorrow when you wake up to let me know you're okay. I'll have a copy of my key for you, Monday."

She nodded. "Call you. Got it." He hesitantly reached for her face again and gently traced her cheek before getting up. "Thanks, Muler. Still got you."

"Always, Scully," he spoke softly. He bowed his head and smiled slightly. Quietly, he left the bedroom door and shut the door behind him.

#todayinfic #xfiles #xf fic #msr #msr fic #season one #early msr #mulder and scully #mulder #scully

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bartsugsy · 7 years

Text

The Robron Break Ups: A Definitive Guide (Part Seven/How does one make the infinity sign on a keyboard)

Part One / Previous Part / All / AO3

Aaaaaand we’re back! Recap - Rob’s been shot and is in a coma, everyone is a suspect including our Aaron and now we’re firmly out of the Affair Era and into Who Shot Robert?

Thank you all for reading etc. You’ll quickly notice that we’re gonna SKIP THE HELL THROUGH ALL THIS BECAUSE I WANNA GET TO THE GOOD STUFF AYOOOOOO

ANYWAY, TIME TO FIND OUT HOW MANY TIMES ONE HUMAN CAN MENTION THAT AARON AND ROBERT ARE ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE DESPITE ALL THE HATRED AND WHATEVER. HAAAAAAY.

Part Seven: Hold Me Whilst I Fondle Your Life Support, My Love

Honourable Mention #23: 28th September 2015

So, Rob’s in a coma and everyone is being questioned by the police, Aaron included. Kerry tips an officer off to the fact that Aaron and Robert were all “hot and heavy” with each other. Aaron obviously doesn’t deny it, nor does he try to pretend that their relationship ended happily, but he tells the copper that it didn’t end badly enough for him to want to kill Robert.

Of course, literally MINUTES later, Aaron has taken himself off to the hospital to go visit his beloved coma Robert. They say that talking to coma patients is good for them, you know?

Only, Aaron is still GOD DAMN FURIOUS at Robert about the scrapyard argument and a little thing like almost dying isn’t gonna stop that, so this isn’t really so much a touching bedside scene as it is a MASSIVELY HORRIFYING DISPLAY OF COMPLETE HATRED.

HE STARTS OFF STRONG BY JUST SORT OF STROKING HIS FUCKING LIFE SUPPORT PLUG AS IF HE’S GONNA LITERALLY PULL IT AND END IT ALL HERE AND THERE AND TBH THAT SHOULD TELL YOU EVERYTHING ABOUT THE INCREDIBLE SCENE YOU’RE ABOUT TO WITNESS.

AARON IS LIKE “SEEMS A SHAME NOT TO SEE YOU LIKE THIS” TO COMA ROB AND THEN HE FUCKIN CALLS HIM PATHETIC.

AND THEN!!!!!! HE LITERALLY FUCKIN!!!!!!!!!! JUST GOES TO TOWN, SAYS “NOT SO COCKY NOW, ARE YA” AND READS ROB FOR TREATING EVERYONE LIKE DIRT, “LIKE THEY DON’T MATTER”. HE SAYS THAT HE MADE EVERYONE'S LIVES HELL AND HE DIDN’T EVEN CARE. ROB RECKONS AARON’S TAPPED? WELL AARON RECKONS HE MUST BE FOR EVER FALLING FOR SOMEONE LIKE ROBERT.

WOO WOO WOO WOO SOUND THE SICK BURN ALARM

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD HOLY DAMN AARON DINGLE

FINALLY, AARON SAYS THAT THE ONLY PERSON HE WANTS TO HURT IS ROBERT - THAT NO ONE’S GONNA MISS HIM, SO HE SHOULD “HURRY UP AND DIE!

HURRY. UP. AND. DIE.

What a love story.

Also Chas overhears all of this and assumes that Aaron has shot Robert (all the while, Aaron thinks Chas shot him - it makes them both act very dodgy towards one another for a while).

Of course, Aaron hasn’t and he never would because, as I think we can all see,

Honourable Mention #24: 6th November - 16th November 2015

There’s loads more plot about who shot Robert blah blah blah and then Aaron gets wrongly arrested (actually, like a billion and one people get wrongly arrested, but Aaron’s is the one that sticks the longest) and because he’s Aaron and was literally only serving a prison sentence a year ago, he’s forced to remain in prison custody until his hearing. Aaron struggles and it’s awful but we don’t really see it so Rob is in a coma and Aaron is in prison and I am left missing my messy sons and bLAHHHH. Oh, at one point they try to wake Robert up from his coma and Aaron just hangs around the pub all day refusing to talk to anyone, because he wants to know how Robert is as soon as possible.

BUT ANYWAY LET’S FAST FORWARD TO WHEN ROBERT IS AWAKE OK GREAT.

SO ROB IS AWAKE AND HE’S ALL “AAHHH WHAT HAPPENED” AND THEN DIANE AND VIC HAVE TO TELL ROB THAT AARON HAS BEEN ARRESTED AND CHARGED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER AND ROB LOOKS FUCKING DESTROYED. Robert also doesn’t necessarily believe that Aaron did it - particularly given that the list of potential suspects is about eight miles long.

The fact that Robert’s behaviour has made him hated enough that MULTIPLE PEOPLE could have tried to murder him shakes him up enough that it actually sort of makes him rethink his entire life and attitude. Also, and I don’t know if it’s because near death experiences make you realise the fragility of life or whatever the hell, but he entirely gives up on his old “I WANT TO SPEND MY LIFE WITH MY WIFE CHRISSIE” tune and instead decides to embrace what he really wants from his life - Aaron.

Uh. He’s just gotta make sure that Aaron didn’t try to kill him first.

Aaron and Chas have a chat (or, they did on the day Robert got shot) where Aaron says that he doesn’t know how to stay away from Robert, or stop loving Robert and that he thinks that maybe the only way he’ll ever be free is for Robert to just disappear. Oh, Aaron.

It’s not true, honestly. Aaron is stubborn as shit and while yes, he’ll always love Robert, I think that… if Rob had never gotten his act together, never even tried to be better than who he was in 2015, Aaron wouldn’t have really gone back there (outside of maybe the occasional cheeky hook up lbr).

Robert gets discharged from the hospital and moves in with Victoria. He’s walking around like a timid deer, because he’s still not convinced that Aaron shot him. He asks Vic about it again and says “how can someone who loved me do this?” and then he says that when he sees Aaron at the hearing, when Aaron looks Robert in the eye, Robert will “know”.

Sure, bee.

The morning of the hearing sees Victoria as the only person convinced that the police must have got it right and Aaron must have shot Robert. Andy and Adam go off to court to support Aaron (Andy because he’s crumbling under his guilt that Aaron is currently in prison because of something he and Ross did) and Robert once again questions whether Aaron could have done it. He says that he needs Aaron to tell him the truth. Which. Be careful what you wish for Rob lmao.

The hearing starts and Aaron stands up looking, frankly, pissed at the world. Robert makes a dramatic late entrance and he and Aaron come properly face to face for the first time since the Scrapyard argument. They stare at one another, Aaron processing the fact that Robert isn’t just still alive, but well enough to be walking around (considering the last time he saw him, Rob was in a coma) and Robert trying to confront the idea that Aaron could ever have tried to kill him. It’s amazing tbh. TENSION EVERYWHERE!

They’re both apparently so #shook by this 2 second meeting that they immediately both LOSE THEIR TINY DERANGED MINDS.

Aaron pleads ‘not guilty’ to attempted murder, obviously, and the judge sets the court date and orders that Aaron continue to be remanded in custody. Robert, who is apparently not satisfied with any of this because he’s still desperate to know whether Aaron did it or not, stands up and yells at Aaron to just “tell the truth”.

Aaron spins around and, because apparently he can’t keep himself in check either, says that, if Rob wants to hear the truth, he’s got some fucking truth bombs to drop because Robert dESERVED EVERYTHING HE GOT AND SHOULD HAVE DONE THE ENTIRE WORLD A FAVOUR AND DROPPED DEAD.

AARON, YOU’RE TRYING TO CONVINCE THEM YOU’RE NOT GUILTY, YOU LUGGAGE TAG.

Aaron gets dragged out of court and Robert and Vic leave, Rob reeling at the fact that Aaron could ever hate him that much. Andy comes out and starts yelling at Robert for… believing Aaron shot him… even though…. this specific situation is actually…. Andy’s fault……….. Oh, Andy.

Andy knows this much and he’s struggling™ with the fact that Aaron is in prison, which Ross realises. Given that Ross is the actual person who pulled the trigger and shot Robert, he emphatically reminds Andy that if he confesses, Andy will never see his kids again. Because prison. Andy gets drunk and sits at Katie’s grave crying (again). Ashley sees him and goes to try and console him and Andy takes this opportunity to drunkenly let slip that he knows Aaron is innocent and more than that, implies that he is responsible for Robert’s shooting.

Ashley, being a Man of God, decides to track down Robert and tries to find a way to tell him what he’s heard, whilst still respecting the fact that people speak to him as a vicar in confidence. Still, he can’t live with knowing that Aaron is innocent and ultimately decides to leave a voicemail for Andy and mentions almost everything he knows, and then tells him that either Andy goes to the police or Ashley will.

Only Ashley accidentally leaves a voicemail on Robert’s phone instead and Robert… well, he’s Robert, isn’t he?

ROB CALLS ANDY AND GETS HIM TO COME TO THE SCRAPYARD AND WHEN ANDY GETS THERE, ROB CONFRONTS HIM. HE ASKS IF AARON IS INNOCENT. ANDY DOESN’T RESPOND. ROBERT SAYS “OK BRUV TELL ME THIS!!!! WHAT DID YOU DO ANDY?????

WHAT

DID

YOU

?”

Rob quickly puts together that, as Andy couldn’t have faked his alibi, he must have had someone do it for him. Andy goes to defend himself and Robert yells “STOP LYING YOU LIAR”

Getting shot has really knocked ol’ Robbo off his insult game, I’ll be honest.

Andy can’t deny that he was behind Robert’s shooting and Robert looks actually hella heartbroken about this. He gets his phone out and calls the police, but Andy knocks the phone out of Robert’s hand and breaks it. Robert gets into his car, presumably to drive to the police station instead and Andy gets in his own car to start an INSANE CAR CHASE.

In the end they both get out of their cars and just start yelling at one another.

Andy admits to being behind the shooting and Rob is all “SO HOW MUCH DID YOU PAY AARON TO DO IT? BET HE DIDN’T NEED MUCH” in a sad lil voice. Andy says that it wasn’t Aaron and Robert is all “SO HE’S INNOCENT” because Robert is NOT ABOUT AARON BEING IN PRISON TBH

HE’S REALLY NOT ABOUT THAT LIFE

Andy refuses to tell Robert who shot him, says it doesn’t matter because he did it, Andy is the one who is responsible. Rob is all “YOU REALLY HATE ME THAT MUCH?” and Andy’s like “YOU KILLED KATIE!!!!!” and look, I’m as sad as the next person that Andy’s wife is dead and tbh I get it

Your brother killed your wife.

You’re gonna be pissed.

It makes sense. I get it.

But sometimes don’t you kinda wanna tell Andy to change the record? Just a little?

Rob once again tries to explain that it was an accident but gives up halfway through, because Andy’s clearly never gonna hear it and then he’s all like “YOU WANNA BELIEVE I KILLED HER? FINE! I KILLED THE BITCH. SO YOU TRIED TO KILL ME. NO, ACTUALLY, YOU GOT SOMEONE ELSE TO DO IT AND THEN YOU LET AARON TAKE THE BLAME”

Aaron taking the blame is a fundamental part of how pissed off Robert is, I need you all to understand this. If anyone else had been in prison, Rob probs wouldn’t have been careening down to the police station to sell Andy to the police quite so fast, let’s all be real here. Like, maybe eventually, but it wouldn’t have been the first thing Robert felt the need to do. Rob’s list of priorities on this day are, in no particular order:

Be upset that his brother hates him enough to try and kill him (again)

Free Aaron

Andy says he hasn’t killed Robert yet and Rob asks if he’s gonna finish the job off. It’s then that Andy points out that they’re at the same place where Max King died all those years ago - the accident that involved Andy and Max in one car and Robert in another, driving towards one another. Max grabbed the wheel and swerved at the last moment, leading to Andy and Max crashing. Robert pulled his brother out of the wreckage, Max died and Jack Sugden came along, placed the blame entirely on Robert and told him to leave the village.

They reminisce about this delightful moment where Robert and Andy were both involved in the death of another human and Andy says, in a strangely smug way, that that would have been the last time Robert ever spoke to Jack before he died. Robert can’t answer, but Andy pushes on, asks Robert what the last thing Jack said to Robert was.

Rob, now crying, says “Which part? The part where he put all the blame on me? Or the bit where he called me a lunatic and told me to just drive away forever and don’t come back?” as Andy yells, “DON’T COME BACK, YES” and tells Robert that he should have listened to him.

I get that I’m just transcribing this scene but it’s one of my favourite Robert scenes ever so WHY MAKE JOKES WHEN I CAN JUST BASK IN HOW FUCKIN INCREDIBLE IT IS?????

ROBERT IS EVEN MORE UPSET NOW, STILL CRYING, AND SAYS TO ANDY “YOU KILLED MUM AND HE HELPED YOU. MAX DIES AND HE DECIDES TO SEND ME AWAY?”

AND ANDY REALISES THE CRUX OF IT, WHAT THE PROBLEM HAS ALWAYS BEEN - THAT JACK LIKED ANDY MORE THAN HE LIKED ROBERT.

Andy of course, never realised that Jack knew about Robert’s bisexuality and beat him because of it, which is another ever-present unspoken layer to the immensely complicated and fraught Jack/Robert relationship - and the Robert/Andy relationship. Jack loved Andy so much more and Andy was the one who was straight. That shit can fuck you up, you know?

Robert says he tried - he tried to get away, as far away from the village as possible, but maybe it’s fate that they’re in this field. Maybe there’s only one way for them both to break this cycle of just… hating one another. Andy says he could - he could kill Robert and Robert tells him to and then Robert just fuckin loses it - tells Andy that this doesn’t end here, that Andy can’t just drive away, that Robert will come for him.

And then they both get in their cars and get ready to fuckin chicken 2.0 like the insane little boys they are.

Families are weird.

Ultimately, Robert swerves, but Andy doesn’t and he flips his entire car.

Robert sees and goes to drive off, leaving Andy to die or whatever, but he can’t do it and instead pulls Andy from the wreckage again, saving his life. He does this all with a gun shot wound, by the way, which is fairly impressive.

Vic and Adam choose this moment to pull up - Adam saw Andy and Rob fighting earlier and told Vic. They call the ambulance and everyone gets out safe and sound.

At the hospital, Vic is demanding answers but neither brother offers up the truth. Once they’re alone, Robert immediately asks Andy what they’re going to do about Aaron, because he can’t go down for something he didn’t do. Andy says he knows and he’ll sort it and then reiterates that he still sort of wants to kill Robert. Robert says that he tried to leave Andy but couldn’t, because no matter what either of them do, they’re brothers. Robert says that Emmerdale is where his family is and he can’t leave.

Ultimately Andy says that they can’t go on like this. He says that maybe he can believe that Katie was an accident, even if he’ll never forgive Robert for the rest of it - but the violence stops here.

Robert leaves and, apparently not content with Andy’s commitment to help Aaron ~~~at some point one day~~~, immediately calls DS Hart and gives a false description of his shooter that clears Aaron’s name.

The village reacts and everyone keeps saying the words “Robert got Aaron off” and I laugh every damn time.

Aaron gets home a few days later and returns as Rob is having a drink in the pub. They make eyes at one another and Aaron texts Robert to meet him outside - apparently to yell at Robert and accuse him of keeping him locked up just to mess with Aaron’s head.

AND IT’S FASCINATING BECAUSE ROB IS ALL SOFT WITH AARON AND WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE’S OK AND AARON IS LIKE “HAHAHAHA I HATE YOU XOXOXO” AND STORMS OFF AND LIKE

THIS IS THE START OF ONE OF MY FAVOURITE UNDERRATED ROBRON PERIODS: THE PERIOD WHERE AARON HATES ROBERT’S GUTS AND ROBERT IS OPENLY HEAD OVER FUCKING HEELS IN LOVE WITH AARON AND KEEPS MANUFACTURING EXCUSES TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM.

IT’S AMAZING.

Honourable Mention #25: 27th November - 30th November 2015

SO, it turns out that watching Robert get shot in front of her sadly left Chas with PTSD. Whilst suffering undiagnosed with, among a lot of other symptoms, hypervigilance and paranoia, Chas accidentally stabs Diane. Chas turns herself in and both Robert and Aaron spend the night terrified for the well-being of their mums. They have a little confrontation outside the pub the morning after and Aaron goes to leave, on his way to see Chas at the Police station with Paddy. Rob is all, “THAT’S RIGHT, RUN AWAY” and Aaron is all, “I’M NOT RUNNING ANYWHERE MATE” and they have some sexy angry eye contact and it’s great.

Also at this time is Chrissie’s trial for accidentally killing all those people. Robert is a key witness and Chrissie is hella concerned he’s going to throw her under a bus to get his own back for dumping him, or something. Lachlan hears this and corners Robert in the Cafe and asks him to do the decent human thing for once and not fuck over his mum. As he leaves the Cafe, Aaron enters - Aaron thinks that Robert knows who shot him and that maybe the guilty person was after Chas and has been responsible for stalking her ever since and ultimately driving her to stabbing Diane.

Aaron approaches Rob and says that he wants to talk and Rob is all “OH, ABOUT UR CRAZY MUM STABBING MY MUM”. Carly, who is serving at the counter, is all pack it in or take it outside, while Aaron is giving Robert a warning of “careful”.

Aaron then turns to Carly and says “bring his drink over, we’ll be over here” because Aaron knows he can still get Robert to do whatever the fuck he wants god bless.

It’s real real real real love.mp3

ROB ROLLS HIS FUCKING EYES AND LOOKS #TIRED BUT HE FUCKIN WALKS OVER TO AARON AND SITS THE FUCK DOWN ANYWAY.

AND THEN ROB IS LIKE, “WHAT?” AND TBH HE SOUNDS LIKE HE’S HALF USING HIS SOFT AARON VOICE. AARON ASKS HOW DIANE IS AND ROB SAYS THAT HE’S NOT TALKING TO AARON ABOUT THAT. AARON SAYS THAT HIS MUM IS IN BITS AND ROB NOT ONLY DOESN’T CARE BUT IS HAPPY THAT CHAS IS SUFFERING WITH ALL THAT STABBY GUILT.

AARON IS LIKE, “I NEED TO KNOW WHO DID THIS TO HER” AND THEN ASKS IF ROBERT IS SURE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHO SHOT HIM. ROBERT TRIES TO ACT #CASUAL BC HE DOESN’T WANT TO GET HIS BROTHER INTO SHIT AND AARON IS LIKE “WELL MY MUM THOUGHT THEY WERE AFTER HER AND NOT YOU” AND THEN ASKS ALL THESE QUESTIONS ABOUT WHAT ROBERT REMEMBERS ABOUT THE SHOOTER.

APPARENTLY ROB’S DESCRIPTION TO THE POLICE WAS “A TALL BLOKE” WHICH I GUESS AUTOMATICALLY EXCLUDED AARON.

RUDE.

AARON IS STILL PRESSING ROBERT AND ROB ISN’T SAYING ANYTHING BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHO THE FUCK ACTUALLY PULLED THE GOD DAMN TRIGGER. AARON GETS MORE AND MORE DESPERATE, BECAUSE HIS MUM IS STRUGGLING, AND ENDS UP SAYING “ROBERT, PLEASE” AND ROB, BEING FUCKING WEAK AGAINST AARON BEING ALL VULNERABLE AND SAD AND SHIT, LOOKS ALL SAD AND CONCERNED.

AARON SAYS HE’S DESPERATE AND ROB CRACKS AND SAYS THAT IT WASN’T SOMEONE WHO WAS AFTER CHAS. AARON SAYS THAT ROBERT CAN’T KNOW THAT AND ROBERT SAYS, POINT BLANK, “I DO KNOW. HE WASN’T AFTER YOUR MUM. HE WAS AFTER ME. AND IT’S OVER NOW”

HE SOUNDS V UPSET ABOUT IT, SO I GUESS HE’S STILL NOT OVER HIS BROTHER TAKING A LITERAL HIT OUT ON HIM.

AARON QUESTIONS HIM AGAIN AND ROBERT ASKS AARON TO JUST TRUST HIM, THEN GETS UP TO LEAVE. AARON STANDS UP AND GRABS ROBERT’S ARM (....HAND???) AND ROB SPINS AROUND AND LIKE THEY COULD BE JUST HAVING SEX RIGHT HERE TBH THEY COULD BE BANGING RIGHT ON BOB’S FLOOR, JUST LOOK AT ALL THIS EYE CONTACT I’M HAVING THE BEST FUCKING TIME

ANYWAY, AARON LOOKS ROBERT DEAD IN THE EYE AND SAYS “YOU KNOW WHO SHOT YOU DON’T YOU.” AND IT’S NOT A QUESTION. ROB SAYS THAT THE PERSON WHO TRIED TO KILL HIM HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH CHAS AND HE SHOULD JUST LEAVE IT AT THAT AND THEN HE LEAVES.

Basically, they’re in love.

Honourable Mention #26: 1st December - 14th December 2015

Rob stands up in court and basically takes the blame for sending Chrissie to the brink and his hair looks terrible. Aaron tells Cain that Robert’s shooter had nothing to do with Chas and Cain says “WELL YOU’RE NOT THE BEST JUDGE WHEN IT COMES TO ROBERT, ARE YOU?” and like… fair play tbh. Other stuff happens and Chas ultimately gets treatment for her PTSD because Aaron refuses to give up until he gets answers and then until he gets help because he’s wonderful, even if his hair is not.

Robert warns Andy that Aaron might start asking questions about the shooting and Andy is like AARON AIN’T GONNA LET THIS DROP, HE’S AARON. SHUT HIM DOWN. like some sort of demented failure of a mob boss and Robert looks concerned and stuff. Also Robert would never be able to shut Aaron down~~ lbr.

Doug is not really much of a believer in Chas’ PTSD. He decides to open the pub at the same time as Zak and Aaron decide to do the same and the three clash over Diane and Chas. Doug and Zak ultimately decide to try and run the pub together, even though they’re arguing like cats and dogs.

Aaron and Robert bump into each other round the back like Romeo and fuckin Juliet, what with their families all ancient blood breaks to new mutiny etc. Robert says he’s sorry about Chas’ PTSD diagnosis and Aaron gives him a civil little nod. Except Rob is really trying to get Aaron off the scent of who shot him - which Aaron realises immediately.

See, Aaron cared about finding out for his mum, yes, but now that she’s getting help, he’s switched to caring about finding out who the fuck he served all that god damn time in prison for. And he ain’t resting til he knows “who pulled that trigger and why [Robert is] protecting them”.

Classic rivalry.

Doug is out working the bar and talking shit about the Dingles and Chas’ PTSD. No one is here for Doug’s misunderstanding of her mental health but especially not Aaron, who starts threatening Doug because threatening violence against old people is Aaron’s speciality.

Aaron retreats to the back and Robert follows him, spotting a cheeky lil opportunity.

He walks in there and says “You really need to listen” and Aaron isn’t really here for that, he’s mostly just worried about his mum. Rob is all, “You want Doug off your case and I’m your man” and Aaron says “YOU’RE NEVER GONNA BE THAT AGAIN XOXO” loooooool jokes not even slightly true good one baaaaabe

Robert is like “...maybe I deserve that” (whilst dying inside probs) and then says that maybe he can get Aaron to trust him again at least.

LIKE. ROBERT IS DOING THIS TO COVER ANDY’S TRACKS BUT HE’S ALSO HELLA DOING THIS TO TRY AND INCH BACK INTO AARON’S GOOD BOOKS AGAIN. WE NEED TO ALL JUST REALISE THIS REALITY.

AARON IS ALL “YOU KNOW WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR UR SHOOTING BITCH” AND ROBERT IS JUST FULL ON LIKE “YEP BUT IT’S NOT WHAT U THINK” and tbh at this point Aaron should have just assumed it was Andy bc who the fuck else out of the suspects would he cover for?

BUT ANYWAYS, ROB IS LIKE “I SWEAR ON DIANE’S LIFE I DON’T KNOW WHO SHOT ME” and that’s the truth i guess god bless. He then adds on, “it’s about a grudge that’s been going on a long time and you digging is only gonna fuck this up even more smh” which. Again. How does Aaron not put two and two together here god damn.

ANYWAYS Rob realises that Aaron has no reason to trust him so he offers him a deal - Aaron stops digging and Robert will get Doug off Chas’ case. Aaron accepts but says that if Robert lets him down, he won’t stop.

Because Aaron knows not to trust Robert.

CUT BACK TO THE BAR and Aaron and Rob are chilling out whilst Doug is still talking shit, bless him.

Aaron starts up the threats again and Rob tries to get onto Doug’s good side and then offers to have a word with Aaron. Aaron is all “what the hell bitch where’s your end of the bargain” and Rob is like “I am working on it but maybe try cutting out the fucking death stares” and then Aaron threatens Doug again because… idk Aaron just loves threatening violence against old people, it’s amazing.

Rob tries to get on Doug’s level by saying HEY LET’S PROVE CHAS IS FAKING HER PTSD and then suggests that they speak to Emma to get her to help prove it. Emma comes along and Robert and Doug go and sit with her to talk. Robert asks Aaron to help Zak behind the bar while they talk and Aaron, absolutely unwilling to help Robert help Chas, is all “since when did you give out orders?” and Rob rolls his eyes and says “Just do it please” and honestly

They’re basically married fight me.

Emma tells Doug that Chas is absolutely not faking her PTSD and that the doctors who have diagnosed her would know if she were trying to fake it to get off from punishment of stabbing Diane. Doug accepts this and offers Aaron an apology, because he’s a good and pure soul.

Aaron is characteristically the least fucking grateful human at Doug in response to this, but he gives Robert a little nod in thanks all the same.

THEY. ARE. IN. LOVE.

OK YOU KNOW WHAT, I’M STOPPING THIS HERE BECAUSE BABY, WE’RE HEADING INTO A NEW ERA IN THE NEXT PART, AS WE ALL WELL KNOW. Thank u for reading and i love u all.

Next up: Robert and Aaron might not technically be together, but emotionally speaking they’re back in a god damn relationship and there’s nothing u can do about it.

#the robron rejection compendium #robron #meta #emmerdale

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