#dark scenes.... when will i learn to color u correctly......

[arcanegifs]

"Betrayal, that pain that feels like it’ll eat you from the inside out, can either break you or forge you into something greater."

[angelicmichael]

Hoax - Prologue

Michael Langdon x Mallory

Summary: After failing to kill murder house Michael; Mallory must travel back in time to Sojourn era to try again. However; she finds to her horrific discovery that jumping through time repeatedly does not come without its consequences.

Words: 3.0k+

Warnings: Death, They both almost die (or do die) so.. a lot of describing wounds and nearly dying and that jazz ✌🏻, major wounds, lowkey a dark fic, Mallory discusses wanting to kill Michael and finds celebrates it??, angst, Mallory goes and sees his dead body, blood

A/N: this takes place right after Mallory drives away from Michael in the finale btw!! I literally didnt intend on making it this dark but it just happened LOL. I feel like most of the dark stuff is vague so.. it should still be chill. This is the first time ive written millory/character x character so please go easy on me!! I also tried to follow canon and stay accurate to details the best I could but knowing me I probably fucked up somehow LMAO but enjoy 💖💖 major plot twist is coming in the next chapter btw! Also Mallorys thots are italicized.

As soon as Mallory drove away; she knew nearly immeadietly that it was too good to be true. Things could never be this fucking easy.

She felt a pit in her stomach almost instantaneously once she was in the year 2015; Even though she couldnt decipher if the anxiety was a warning or something else.. She continued on with the dark destiny she was put on this earth to fulfull.. to kill the antichrist.

Even though she was fully aware of this; and had come to terms with what she had to do - she learned the hard way that it didnt seem to make things easier at all; like how she dreamed it would. Although, even now as she continued to speed away from the infamous 'murder house', the drop in her stomach seemed to only grow; along with her self doubt.

Was he really dead??

Did I really do it??

She knew that the answer to both of those questions should be yes; but the longer she remained driving in her car, getting farther and farther away from where the incident had occured.. she knew something was wrong.

Mallory suddenly jolted the steering wheel into a sharp left; continuing to turn it until she was doing U-Turn.. She couldnt help but to feel completly bewildered at her own actions - never doing something so impulsive, like going back to a crime scene let alone commit murder, in her life.

Although Mallory felt a bit disgusted with her recent previous actions; she couldnt help but imagine how disgusted she would feel with herself if she didnt pull this off. She mulled over the previous thoughts she had had about this moment and how dreamed it would feel; she thought she would feel joy, elated, and at peace but.. instead she still felt as if she was being suffocated by his presence.

He wasnt gone. Not yet.

She pressed her foot down on the gas, she knew she hadn't gone too far away from Michael's residence yet it seemed as if it was a millenia away. The task she was supposed to complete was starting to seem more and more increasingly impossible the less distance was put between them.

If running him over with a car three times wasnt enough to kill him, whose to say anything else would? What if Constance had brought him inside?? What if she was still out there with him?? Mourning?

Mallory wasnt a monster; she wasnt going to tear away a dying boy from his grandmother in his (hopefully) final moments, even if he was the antichrist.

She felt as if she was a total loss for what to do; which made her grow sick to her stomach because she knew that was a cruel form of denial. She was destined for this moment; every moment thus far had led up to this.. so why did she feel like such a failure? Her thoughts grew more foggy and distant with panic; her throat became entirely dry as she slowed the car down. The murder house now in view; the first thing she noticed.

The red bricks and stained glass windows shined brightly in the sun. The house, which Mallory was sure typically looked beautiful, radiated a terrifying aura.. even more so this time versus when she was here only a mere minutes ago. The expanse and exterior of the house was intimidating; it held a certain danger to it that she couldnt pinpoint her finger on where the source came from.. it certainly was not Michael. Mallory knew that even if he wasnt dead; his powers would fade out for atleast a few minutes from being so wounded.

Mallory stopped the car once she saw Michael's dead body; which still resided in the middle of the road. Her feelings of panic and nausea only amplified once she saw his body -  her gaze lingering upon it. She approached him with no hesitation; she could nearly feel that he was gone.. his spirit momentarily missing.. somewhere else.

She studied him carefully and nearly pitifully as she crouched down to kneel next to his body. His body was littered and splattered with bright red wounds. His pants looked as if they were dip dyed in red paint; His once pale skin along with the majority of his clothes was covered in a bright red splatter. Long, dark red lacerations decorated his face. His mouth was still agape; his once white teeth were coated in the same shade of red his clothes were.

Even though he looked absolutely horrible; Mallory still felt absolutely no remorse for the antichrist. Knowing what he would become, and his sick ways of manipulation deserved no mercy. However, knowing only seconds ago he was nothing but a mere bloody, suffering child.. she couldnt help but to not fight the tears she felt budding at her eyes; letting one slide down her cheek before quickly wiping it away - she knew it was naive to assume she wasnt being watched.

Mallory wasnt stupid - she knew her powers and what she was capable of, like the back of her hand by now. The past few months practically consisted of her testing and expanding on her limits... She knew that healing Michael in this exact moment wasnt out of the question. In fact, it almost seemed to be more difficult to restrain herself from healing him.. but she knew better.

He deserves to fucking suffer. He deserved to rot in his personal hell; wherever that may be.

She couldnt help but to nearly laugh at the thought that he finally got what was fucking coming to him.

Mallory could feel herself shaking with how close she was to Michael now. She couldnt stand how he made her feel when they were this close - almost touching.

She now was kneeling next to his body on the concrete, her knees aching from the rough surface but she couldnt go just yet. Not when she still had no fucking clue where to go from here.

The world seemed as if it came to stand still; nothing seemed like it existed outside of the small bubble that Mallory felt her and Michael were suddenly trapped in.. The birds stopped singing, no cars happened to drive by.. everything just stopped.

All the spirits and souls that Mallory could feel that were trapped within the grounds of the house, didnt bother to make a appearance either. But she knew they were still there... she could still feel their eyes on her. Watching; waiting.

The sun's warmth, which normally Mallory chose to bask in, was starting to make her itch. She could feel her skin start to moisten with sweat.. Instinctively she knew that her sudden newfound state of being uncomfortable was her cue to leave... To go where though? She wasnt sure.

Why am I still here? If everything had happened correctly; if I really killed him.. then why havent I woken up yet??

Mallory continued to stare at him grimly; not quite brave enough to speak but still managing to maintain the courage to sit by him and look at the damage she caused. The most jarring feature of Michael's current appearance would be his eyes. Mallory couldnt help but to stare at them; and it certainly wasnt because they were beautiful.

His once vibrant, sky blue, irises were now starting to look oddly dull. A faint, milky white color looked as if it were painted over them instead.

His skin was now a bruised white; Mallory shakily extended out her hand - pressing the back of her knuckles softly to his forearm. She wanted to see how cold his body was; and when she made contact - she pulled her hand back so fast as if it had been burned. She hissed, the coolness of his skin stunned her. She stared at his body intensely - shocked that she even dared to touch him, let alone even stick around for this long. 

The sounds Michael started to make is what finally drove Mallory to wake up out her near trance she found herself amidst in and to realize the reality of the situation. After minutes of silence and stillness, and sure death, Michael's chest finally started to move. The amount at which his chest moved was nearly minuscule at first; but he was recovering rather quickly.. too fucking quickly for Mallorys liking.

It was almost sickly ironic how Mallorys chest started to move faster and faster as soon as Michael's did; she couldn't help but to feel entirely panicked. The rest of her emotions; her thoughts; her feelings; everything that used to make up her was now fleeting.. rapidly leaving until as she could focus on was the oxygen briskly escaping her.

She watched the color from his skin start to return; the off putting stark whiteness leaving and a very subtle pink gracing his skin tone. More noticeably; she observed how the color in his lips and eyes returned back.. almost appearing normal.

She unconsciously found herself rising; panic still occupying all of her senses. She quickly unfolded her legs and steadied herself as she stood up.. One thought and one thought only rang through her mind like a sick mantra..

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Mallory tried to gasp as she suddenly felt her throat grow incredibly dry; she let out a desperate dry cough. Her eyes started to tear up unwillingly as she felt a enormous amount of self doubt suddenly surge into the core of her being - the feeling slipping momentarily into her soul.

The world around her began to spin and melt away simultaneously; until she felt her physical body melt away from Michael and the Murder House incredibly rapidly before she could even fully process what was happening.

She felt the harsh coldness of the bath tub water for a split second before she emerged; the black water engulfing her as she stayed partially concealed within the water. Immeadietly she found herself gasping and gagging on her tongue from not being able to breath possibly fast enough... The next thing she felt was otherworldly pain. She felt so much fucking pain.

Mallory gripped the edge of the bathtub until her fingertips turned white and her nails threatened to split. She stayed like that for a moment; spitting and gasping, trying to find a way to consume as much oxygen as possible while managing the nearly unimaginable pain. Her entire body throbbed but her eyes felt a different pain; a sickly stinging.

Keeping her posture and preventing herself from slipping entirely back into the black water was a fucking mission in itself, she quickly learned. She didnt even bother to pretend to be quiet.. Her breaths and groans were far too loud to even begin to ignore.

Is Michael still alive?  Where is Myrtle?

Mallorys lungs seemed to return to normal capacity after a while, her gasping decreased until she was utterly and completely quiet. She arose from the water as quietly as she possibly could, biting her lip to prevent making any additional noise from the sudden cold air she felt against her body.. stinging and torturous..

Her eyes still ached, bringing her hands instinctively to her eyes to stop the pain - she realized ones of her hands was still balled into a fist.. holding onto something.

Was that.. is that MICHAELS hair??

Mallory stared at the once curly, perfectly golden strands of hair that lie in her balled up fist in complete horror - it was now a dark red from the blood that had washed off her skin and into the water.

There was no way this was HIS hair. It had to be someone elses; anyone elses! She refused to believe that she was holding onto anything that belonged or had to do with Michael... complete disgust and delirium rendered her from thinking that.

Her first instinct was to drop the hair; but something told her to keep holding onto the lock, it would only serve her well in the future.

Her vision was inky with blood; dark red clouding her vision and making her feel even more impaired and utterly hopeless then she already felt.. even with the large wound still gaping and bleeding from her stomach. Her stomach wound made her entire body ache, trying to stay conscious was a fight within itself.

It happened again. I failed.

She wasnt sure if she was just being cynical or if her thoughts were even to be trusted anymore when she was in this state.. she only knew she wanted this horrible nightmare to be fucking over with already. She wanted to wake up in Robichauxs and see her sisters; Misty, Madison, Queenie, Zoe and more than anyone.. Cordelia... Oh fuck.

Cordelia... She was still dead.. because of me.

Mallory blinked slowly a few times; taking her free hand and wiping as much blood away from her face and eyes as she could - just enough so she could fully take in her surroundings.

If she could feel her stomach; she was sure she would feel it drop because as much as she looked, she saw no one. Absolutely no one. Tears slipped down her cheeks but they werent bloody anymore. She knew she was completely fucked; he had her cornered.

Well not literally anyways. He still managed to lurk somewhere within the vast empty walls of Outpost Three; most likely looking for her.. but he had to know she was fatally wounded.. right? 

That's when out of the thick silenceness, she heard the first sign of life. Loud; but distant heavy footsteps.

Michael.

She knew she was fucked right away. She could almost feel his spirit itself within Hawthorne; the feeling slowly flowing to her until it forced her to be frozen. Petrified, still sopping wet and with some left over blood dripping off her chin - she knew what she had to do.. and she only had seconds to do it. Mallory knew he was approaching closer and closer the longer she stood docile in the bathtub.. like a idiot.

She took deep, heavy breaths. Fully; for the first time, cherishing the feeling of oxygen in her lungs - knowing that she very well might not make it out alive. Preforming time travel once alone was a enormous feat; but she had already done it twice.. but three times?

The thought simultaneously scared and excited her; she continued take deep breaths before relaxing. Closing her eyes and focusing; searching for a moment in Michael's history to go back too.

There had to be another time Michael was weak besides when he was with Constance at the murder house.. Another time that he felt abandoned.. lost.. confused..

She swallowed as she felt and focused on the soft strands of hair that she held onto; trying to search desperately for the answer that she needed as she took the next step and plunged herself under the water, first barely managing to weakly whisper, "tempus infinituum".

The water tore at her skin as she felt herself letting go from the past reality... slowly yet rapidly her senses seemed to all melt away at once before she was floating- until nothing.

Suddenly Mallory opened her eyes, blinking as she kept calm as she adjusted to her new surroundings.. an open, nearly empty forest was what welcomed her as she slowly spun around.

The smell of pine leaves and the heavy scent of the forest consumed her senses. She first felt calm and at peace; the forest was beautiful. She almost felt tempted to forget about what she came here to do and to lose herself within the sea of greenery but.. something was terribly wrong.

More so; someone was here.

Mallory first stood still; puzzled as to why she was now standing in a vacant forest with pine needles at her feet.

She didnt dare say a word out loud, just in case, but she knew she was waiting for something before she dared to take a step.. she was waiting for a sign. She didnt bat a eye when she felt a soft, warm breeze tousle her hair forward. She felt it continue to crash against her body - almost like soft waves crashing upon rocks. She felt it on her warm skin; her skin getting goosebumps as she knew what this meant. She was getting her sign.

This is it. Is he here?

Mallory giggled at the mere thought; the anticipation and glee of imagining how this nightmare perhaps could be over in the near future was making her experience true euphoria.

She began to walk through the forest; passing several trees as she searched for what she was yearning for. The breeze was far gone by now but she knew to keep going; to keep looking. She looked at the forest landscape that lie ahead of her; a sea of moss and blended greens and blues. The forest didnt have the same magic it typically held though; something was missing.

It was because she was getting closer to him.

Mallory had to suppress a scream as she suddenly felt herself step on something that wasnt the forest floor. She felt a painful shiver run directly down her spine, almost as if someone was running a blade down her back. She was becoming consumed with panic once more; and with the sudden realization what was happening.. What this meant.

It was pure reflex which caused her to take a step back; even before she had the opportunity to look down and confirm her suspicions, she knew exactly what she had stepped on. A body.

She quickly looked down at what she had stepped on - not able to take the anonymity of the individual any longer.. and of course..

I fucking knew it.

She recognized who it was immeadietly, curly blonde hair that was mangled with dirt and a typical black outfit.. it was too easy to guess the identity of the body. He was face down, his body sprawled out unnaturally and in a uncomfortable manner..

It was once again; Michael Langdon.

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @beyond-repentance @lizzy-claire-fandom

[devintrinidad]

Red Blood Cell, Sighted! Chapter 1

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13022702/1/Red-Blood-Cell-Sighted

Guys...I don’t know how to say this, but I think I made a reverse harem fic for Cells at Work/Hataraku Saibou. Partially based off @lunchtimerushin​‘s beautiful fanart and my need for more neutrophil content.

U-2001 is too old for this.

If anyone were to ask him how the whole thing started, he would merely shrug, knock back a drink of barley tea, and sigh. He's not an old neutrophil, but he sure likes to stay away from the immature adventures his close colleagues like to embark on. Days for him, other than the occasional bacterium or a virus, pass by slowly while time seems to meander without much reason for worry. One would think that 2001 would have gone mad, or at the very least, bored without the lack of any activity.

That was simply not the case.

Most of the time.

"2001," U-1146 greeted casually. Like most neutrophils, 1146 was dressed in the standard uniform of a white blood cell, but he was covered head to toe in cytosol. The dark red shade contrasted starkly against the usual white color that it had 2001 recoiling in shock. Usually 1146 would have enough sense to clean himself up immediately after a mission before seeking out a friend.

2001 definitely was not expecting his colleague at all.

"1146," 2001 answered in kind. He raised a pale eyebrow, although it wasn't apparent due to his wearing of a hat. "What brings you to this marginating pool?"

Normally, 1146 would bring up a topic that could be easily answered, 2001 would offer some insight relative to the question, and they would sit in companionable silence. It was a habit that had originated back in their youth as myelocytes. Over the course of the maturation, they kept up with the tradition and it had benefited them both; for 2001, it offered a sense of companionship that he didn't always receive due to his aloof nature and as for 1146...well, 2001 hoped that his friend also received the same sense of security and friendship.

1146 seemed to frown under the visor of his hat before vaguely commenting on the state of affairs within the body.

2001, not sure how to take this unexpected turn of events, remarked that all systems within the body were doing well.

And, for a few minutes, that was that.

Until—

"The normal cells do a fine job of replicating copies of themselves," 1146 said casually. "I wonder what their lives must be like, to continuously make copies of themselves, train their copies their ways, and finally let them go. Wouldn't that make life seem so boring and fleeting?" 1146 paused before continuing. "But they also seem so close knit; they're always playing games with each other. It's admirable, honestly, given that they're usually the ones who are targeted under bacterial or viral infections."

1146 stopped. Clearly, it was the time for 2001 to say something—anything that could provide validation or add on to 1146's observation, but 2001 didn't know what to do with this information.

Normal cells? Replication? Having fun? What was his colleague insinuating?

Shrugging, 2001 murmured, "It's their job and their nature, regardless of how mundane or trivial it may seem. All cells serve purpose; you should know this. We protect and the others serve."

1146 hummed thoughtfully as he processed those words.

"And the red blood cells...carrying those packages of oxygen or carbon dioxide continuously with little to no breaks…"

Was it 2001, or was 1146 looking wistful?

"They're always running around, destination to destination with no end in sight. Do they ever truly stop? We white blood cells are permitted breaks here and there; bacterial invasions or infections are frequent, yes, but not to the point where we never stop."

"They're born to do that," 2001 shrugged as he relaxed against the vessel wall. "At the bone marrow, they're trained so that they could travel great distances without feeling tired." Really, what was 1146 getting at with this inane conversation? Truly, it was thought provoking to think about the occupations of other cells, but this was elementary. All myelocytes knew why certain progenitor cells differentiated to become monoblasts, erythroblasts, promegakaryocytes, and so on.

2001 happened to glance at 1146 at that moment.

His colleague appeared lost in thought; his eyes were furrowed and covered in shadow, his body was hunched over as he contemplated. His dead stare, which was typical of all neutrophils, seemed even more probing and blank than normal. Typical 1146 pose, atypical cause for it.

"Why are you so interested in the erythrocytes anyway?"

"Oh. I met one who kept getting lost recently. You probably saw her in that one abrasion incident."

"Hmm, yes. That incident was definitely scarring."

1146 stared deep into 2001's eyes and barked a short note of laughter. Gone was his look of contemplation; it was now replaced with his favorite companion of the neutrophil bunch.

Finally. A reaction that 2001 fully calculated and expected.

"Well, 1146, I think we should head back to work."

"Noted."

He was patrolling an area near the foot—probably the ankle if he remembered correctly—at a capillary. Here, the roads were thin and crowded with red blood cells busy delivering the oxygen to their designated recipients. As 2001 observed from a narrow passageway, he thought back to 1146's words from earlier.

From an objective standpoint, it made sense that immune cells were allowed to have breaks every once in a while. They expended incredible amounts of energy defeating bacteria; therefore, they needed time to regroup and refresh. On the other hand, red blood cells ran around all the time, but they were trained to endure. They could withstand resistance longer and were allowed to walk on their way back on the circuit back to the lungs. For practical reasons, it made sense; different jobs yielded different needs.

So deep in thought he was, that he was completely blindsided when he heard a sudden crash and several curses from a group of passing red blood cells. Even though this situation could have been handled by others, he casually strolled from his hiding spot to see if there was any trouble. It appeared that one red blood cell (one with brilliantly red hair befitting of her cell type) had mistakenly bumped into another red blood cell (this one not as ostentatiously colored or differentiated). The situation looked like the red blood cells could deal with affairs within their circle (the redhead was already apologizing and gathering up the boxes of oxygen) so 2001 merely shrugged and moved back.

For several minutes, 2001 contented himself with his thoughts while he passively observed the red blood cells and a few platelets walking or running to their destinations. One of those who were running was a red blood cell (the very same who was the inciting incident for that accidental crash) who walked past him. Nothing interesting.

Well that in itself wasn't interesting until he saw that the clumsy red blood cell had walked past him again.

And again.

And...again.

After seeing that the red haired erythrocyte had passed by his hiding spot twenty-two times in a span of fifteen minutes, 2001 decided to step in.

Literally.

On the twenty third attempt, the erythrocyte had neglected to tighten her shoelaces. The result was, and this should have been obvious, was halfway disheartening to any aspiring red blood cell.

The scene was halfway disheartening because 2001 didn't want any cells under his watch to end up getting hurt—even if it was her own undoing.

Due to his quick reflexes and ideal spot, 2001 managed to grab her by the back of her shoulders and righted her up in record timing. For a moment, her eyes were dazed and confused; her mouth gaped open in a shrill scream that had 2001 wincing because of the pitch and frequency. Heavens above, such a sound at such punishing decibels shouldn't have been possible. However, she quickly turned to him and began apologizing—all of which he managed to deflect with the proper "oh's" and "mm-hhms".

"—orry, Mr. Neutrophil! I didn't—I mean, I'm kind of clumsy and I'm still trying to learn all my routes and—"

2001 held up a hand, which immediately quieted the red blood cell.

"Turn left on the main road and go straight for 100 micrometers. There, you'll see a checkpoint that has a reliable map and plenty of red blood cells who could help you." After observing the package of carbon dioxide that the red blood cell was carrying in her arms, he immediately deduced that her next destination was for the lungs.

Gobsmacked, the erythrocyte looked from the main road to 2001 and back. Was she dreaming? Was another neutrophil helping her out? Were all immune cells this nice?

Gratefully, she bowed again and thanked him graciously. However, when there was no reply, she found that he was no longer there. A little confused, but still overly grateful, she saluted the deserted area and headed off the main road. For now, she was content that she was back on track.

She hoped that she would find that kind, aloof neutrophil again in the future.

U-2001 couldn't help but...soften at the sight of the red blood cell saluting and then leaving with a smile so bright, that it could rival that of Dendritic Cell's. It wasn't every day that 2001 managed to see such a happy smiling cell in person. It was rare that cells would approach him, rarer still to see one so willing to thank him for such a trivial action.

Was it a habit of red blood cells to be so emotional and helpful?

Or was it just a trait of this particular red blood cell?

Briefly entertained with this thought, 2001 idled away until he heard his transceiver inform him that help was needed elsewhere.

This time, it was 2001 who approached his friend 1146 in a marginating pool. After the usual greeting and pleasantries, they lapsed back into silence. Again, the atmosphere felt safe and companionable; a far cry from the heat of battle and the call of bloodlust. It was soothing and for once, 2001 relaxed and let his back touch the wall of the blood vessel, fully at ease and a micrometer away from taking a nap, germs be damned.

"Something good happened today," 1146 commented as he watched his colleague sag against the wall in uncharacteristic tiredness.

Not a question; it was an observation.

"Depends on perspective."

"Then let me rephrase, from your perspective, did something good happen?"

2001 could have said anything. He could have said that he had a quiet time patrolling the foot. He could have said that he spent his entire patrol philosophizing and that he came across some great discovery before it disappeared like plasma. He could have said that his day was relatively peaceful other than that allergen that happened to run amok. If this were any other day, he would have said any of the above, but for some odd reason, images of a sweet smiling red blood cell who looked so earnest and trusting made him want to-to—

"I stopped a red blood cell from tripping." 2001 stared resolutely forward—no, he wasn't avoiding his companion's eyes. "It was all in a good day's work, I suppose."

Even without looking at his right, 2001 knew that 1146 was staring disbelievingly at him. Looking back, 2001 knew that this was a weak way to explain the feelings that were circulating throughout his nucleus. But really, what could he say? It wasn't a particularly big achievement or anything worth remembering. Heck, the only reason he remembered the event was because it was jarring to be thanked so honestly and with such vigor.

"It's our job to help all cells, regardless of circumstances." 2001 tried to justify. " If it was a platelet, you would do the same. It's our job."

1146 hummed in assent.

2001 could hear an underlying current of sarcasm, but he didn't mind. After all, he technically wasn't lying.

After a while, they said their goodbyes and left the marginating pool together before going their separate ways. Like any other meeting with his fellow white blood cell, 2001 was left with a sense of...not exactly loneliness, but an awareness that once again, he was alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

On most days he was quite all right with that.

Today...today, he felt too old, too tired to be alone.