#it’s weird that I’m almost four hours into this crossover | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

leave out all the rest | c. beck

→ pairing: chris beck x black!reader

→ word count: 5387

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smidge of angst, smut, sex, breeding kink, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo

flashbacks

→ request: chris beck + breeding kink + "babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that" + "I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that"

→ author note: dr. space daddy is finally here! this is also the first of my 5k celebration fics! all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. thanks so much for the request @thedarkplume! title from linkin park leave out all the rest (i loveeee this song); line divider by @firefly-graphics; flashbacks are in italics. i also formatted this with the beta text post editor on desktop... so hopefully nothing looks weird and the italics/bold actually work... it is tumblr after all.

oh, hey, there’s a bit of a marvel crossover in this too!

Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel in this moment. Your stomach hasn’t been settled since you got the call two days ago. It’s been flipping and twisting ever since. Sleep hasn’t come easy either, but you’re used to that. Ever since Chris left, you haven’t slept well. It’s been almost seven hundred and thirty days— well, just three days short.

You follow the two tall military men, decked out in their dress blues, through the secure facility, your black leather combat boots thudding against the tile floors. Everything is white— the walls, the floors, the coats of all the scientists and doctors milling about— except for you and your flowery, thigh length sundress. Dark eyes wide, teeth nibbling on a sore, often bloody bottom lip from all the nibbling, small purse bouncing off one hip as a duffel bag bounces off the other.

Winding through corridor after corridor, pausing as the men lift their badges to keypads to get door after door to click open. An eerie quiet looms throughout the entire building, nothing but random beeps, your breathing, and footsteps.

Nervous doesn’t begin to describe it.

The walk gives you too much time to think about the last seven hundred and twenty seven days. All of the crying. All of the anger— the screaming. Chris trying to calm you down, assure you that they were okay— that he had to do this.

"It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?" You sobbed into the phone, staring up into the stars, knowing that he couldn’t but secretly hoping that he could see you.

"This is not easy for me," he choked back tears, his tongue heavy, "Leaving you is never easy but I have to do this, baby. We have to go back for Mark. We have to."

You didn’t answer his calls for over a week. And when you did, your words were quick and harsh.

"I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving in with my sister."

Chris was silent on the other end of the phone— too silent. He sighed after a while and just said, "Ok. I understand."

That was day four hundred and sixty three.

So you moved in with your sister. Got a job at the local bar, picked up every shift you could, sometimes working sixty, seventy hours a week— just so you didn’t have to think about him. It didn’t work. You’d still stare out the window at night, up into the big black sky and through the twinkling little stars, wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking about you.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris continued to call your sister. Just to check on you.

Day seven hundred was when two Air Force officers walked into the bar as you were cutting up lemons and oranges. Your stomach, in a perpetual state of tight and sour, dropped to your feet. It’s never good when the military comes knocking on your door.

“He’s dead,” you spit out, eyes watering, chest starting to heave, “He’s dead, isn’t he? They’re all dead.”

When they removed their hats, your hands flew to your face, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs. You just knew they were all dead. Humans can’t stay in space for this long. It’s not natural.

“No ma’am,” the taller, brown skinned man answered, a small smile breaking onto his face, showing off the distinctive gap between his two front teeth, “They’re back in our orbit. They’ll be landing within the next seventy two hours.”

It was a flurry after that. Phone calls, you moving back onto the base, protocol gatherings, interviews with local and national media. None of it mattered. You just wanted to see him— you needed to see him.

Not before his mandatory three week quarantine that is.

Day seven hundred and twenty five is when they called to let you know that he was ready to move onto the second phase of his integration back on earth. Two weeks cohabitating with another person of his choice, just to make sure that his body and cells can still tolerate, you know, earth— and that he doesn’t give off anything that could make earthlings sick.

They called to let you know that Chris chose you— if you wanted to, of course. If not, he could call his sister.

You were packing your bag before the call even ended.

After two days of getting tested for everything known to man, it’s now day seven hundred and twenty seven and here you are, passing through the last set of doors and stepping into a large observatory room. One of the General’s starts talking, but you don’t hear a word. You just blink slow, lips falling open as you stare back at Chris as he stands at the little square window of his living quarters. He smiles soft, running his hand through his short, dark hair before waving and placing his palm on the window.

Tears cloud your vision. Your chin trembles as a sad smile spreads on your face. A sob chokes in your throat and a warm tear streaks down your cheeks. Despite the talking man, you step up to the window and press your much smaller hand on the glass, spreading your fingers to match his. Chris rests his forehead to it and you do the same as you really start to bawl— shoulders shaking, face breaking, breath rushing fast and hard.

"Baby, don’t cry. Come on pretty, don’t— don’t cry."

Chris’ voice is muffled by the thick glass, but just hearing it— so close, so familiar— after so longs it’s just… it’s almost too much. It is too much.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you in there like this. We need you to calm down.”

Dense thuds shake the glass as Chris pounds on it, "Open the door, Sam!"

Sam grabs your bicep, gently, guiding you towards the door— Chris following you both, still talking to you through the glass.

"It’s okay baby, I’m right here. I’m right here."

“We need you to calm down,” Sam starts again, “He hasn’t been around—”

"Sam! Goddamn it, leave her alone! Open the door!"

“Beck! You cool it in there!”

"Don’t be an asshole! Open the door! She’s scared!"

You hear a scoff, “Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.”

"I swear to God—"

“Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.” Sam is stern now, pointing his finger towards Chris.

Sam pauses for a few long seconds, blinking slow but keeping his hand around your bicep— and thank God, because you honestly need it, “I’m going to badge you into the hallway, okay? You take this keycard,” he presses it into your palm, “And put it up to the keypad at the second door after I close this door behind you. It’s only good for one passthrough— once you’re in, you’re in until the medical staff clears you both. Understand?”

The second half of his speech is softer, his thumb rubbing the back of your arm. You like Chief Master Sergeant Sam Wilson. You nod quick, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand, sniffling hard and focusing a shaky breath out through your teeth as you step in front of the door. There’s a loud click and the metal pops, Sam reaching past you to push it open.

Your body, on autopilot, takes three steps to the second door, eyes staring at the keypad on the wall beside it. Chris is still talking to you through the windows, one hand pressed to the glass, the other on the door handle.

"Just a few more seconds baby. You’re doing so good."

There’s another click— Sam closing the door behind you. Water fills your eyes again, emotion choking up in your throat at the gravity of it all. All of the screaming. All of the crying. All of the hating him and loving him and missing him for seven hundred and twenty seven days all culminating right here, right now, while he’s just three feet away from you. The sky used to be the thing keeping you apart— now it’s just a wall. A door— that you can’t walk through.

"Baby, Chris says gently, "Come on baby. Open the door, honey."

You’re frozen. Eyes locked on the keypad, fingers gripping the keycard so hard they start to burn. Open the door, honey takes you back. Takes you back to the day that he told you he was going up— that he’d be gone for a year.

“Open the door, honey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You sniffle, staring at your reflection in the mirror in your small bathroom.

“You knew this was coming. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“A year? A year, Chris? I’m just supposed to put my life on hold for you for an entire year?”

He sighs through the door, “I’ve worked my ass off for this, you know that.” You do know that, you’re just being selfish. Needy and selfish, “I know we’ve got plans baby, but it’s just a year. One year and then I’m all yours—”

“Yeah, until the next time you decide to go up there. This is what Melissa warned me about. You get addicted to it.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” you retort, “I know you.”

That makes him laugh, and then you’re laughing because he’s laughing, “Open the door, please.” Chris sighs again.

As soon as you turn the knob, he’s pushing through it, lifting you up off your feet and twirling you around— to make you laugh again.

You were standing on a precipice that night and neither one of you knew it. Your lives, both individual and combined, would change forever and that was the night that set it all in motion.

The keycard digs into your fingers and palm, bringing you back into the present. Back into the hallway, back in front of Chris. You blink, linking eyes with him again, finding them soft and down turned, his head tilted as he presses his fingers to the glass.

"Let me hold you," he says soft. So soft that the glass between you gobbles it up. But you just know that’s what he said. You just know.

The door clicks in your ear, a breeze is in your face as Chris throws it open, and then you’re consumed. Arms wrapped around you, hard chest against yours as you’re lifted right off of your feet. He’s so warm— he’s always been so damn warm.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, leaning back a little as you push your face into his neck, “This moment was the only thing keeping me going.”

“I’m sorry,” you sob, pushing your face into his shoulder, your tears wetting his NASA sweatshirt, “I’m so sorry, I was so selfish,” the words are clipped and broken, heavy on your tongue, “Chris, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, it doesn’t matter.” He sits you back on your feet, rubbing your back with both of his large hands, “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

You cry openly into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and pushing your hands up into his sweatshirt, under the thin t-shirt underneath— just to feel his skin, “I missed you so much.”

One, two, three, four pecks of his warm lips on the top of your head before he rests his cheek there, holding you tight as he takes a deep breath, “All that’s over now, hmm?” you can feel the smile on his face, “We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”

A yawn pushes out of your mouth as you stretch out tight, sore muscles screaming. Eyes flutter as you shift, another deep breath pushing out your nose as you nuzzle your face into the pillows, body cocooned in warmth. You’re drifting again, quick, when an abrupt panic races through your veins without warning. Your stomach drops, skin instantly flushing with heat as you spring up, eyes as wide as saucers as your breath rushes.

That’s when you hear it, an all too familiar sound. A pencil, tapping slowly, methodically, against something. It calms you instantly. It’s real, you’re real, Chris is real, and you’re here. He’s here.

You swing your legs over the edge of the small bed, tucked in the corner behind a small partition. There’s a soft light glowing underneath it and a single red blinking dot emanating from the corner of the room— a camera. You push your hair out of your face but keep your fingers on your cheeks, closing your eyes as you focus on your breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. There’s a murmur, Chris mumbling to himself and you can’t help but smile.

You stand and start moving towards the noises, padding soft and slow as his mess of brown hair and hunched back comes into view. He stands, switching out an X-Ray on the viewer before he plops back down into the swivel chair, staring at it for a second before he starts flipping through the large, open text book just to his left. There’s a little white board off to the right, leaning against the wall, the days he’s been “gone”, seven hundred and twenty seven, scribbled in his messiest of messy handwriting.

The little slice of time watching him sends you right back to your college years, waking up in his dorm room, finding the bed empty and him huddled over a too small desk, furiously flipping through a thousand page text book. You’d sneak up on him, just as you are now, barely dressed and sleepy eyed. Dig your fingers into his hair, scratch his scalp slow. Giggle as his shoulders slump and his head falls back a little, him moaning all the while.

“God, that feels good.”

“You let me fall asleep.”

“You cried yourself to sleep. Didn’t have the heart to wake you… you look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

“Hmm, more like two. What are you doing?” you ask, pushing around his side and crawling into his lap, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Looking at our X-Rays from earlier today. I’m working on another paper for the Institute.”

“Trying to see if you guys are still earthlings?”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through you, making you smile, “Kinda, yeah. Our body masses have changed dramatically— our bones are longer, I’m not shitting you.” You giggle again at the enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s just a few centimeters, but still. Our brain waves are a little different, metabolism has sped up… it’s incredible.”

You keep the small smile on your face as your fingertips drift over his chest, rubbing slow as you feel his eyes fall to you, “You should get back in bed,” he says, squeezing your knee gently, “You look so tired, baby.”

“Not without you.”

He laughs again, “My circadian rhythm’s all fucked up, I can’t sleep.”

“Then it looks like you're stuck with me,” you kiss his chin and then cuddle back into him, “Don’t mind me.”

Mind you, he doesn't. He just goes about flipping pages and scribbling down random thoughts, marking up his pile of x-rays and fumbling through his and the rest of the crew's medical charts. You push your hand up into the arm of his navy blue NASA sweatshirt, raking your nails up and down his forearm absentmindedly as you breathe him in. Your other hand wanders too, tracing the band of his dark sweatpants before skipping up into his sweatshirt, brushing over his stomach and up to his chest.

The pads of your fingers outline the muscles that are still there, his pecs, down and across his soft abs, before back up and over a cheeky nipple. He jumps slightly, crinkling his nose as he smiles big and hard, “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You bat two big eyes up at him, the weight of going almost two years without catching up with you right at this moment. A hum vibrates in your throat as you stand, taking a few steps away from him before you toss your eyes over your shoulder, licking your bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it. You hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers after a few moments, watching him drag his big eyes down your bare legs and then back up over your powder pink satin shorts and matching camisole.

“Come to bed, Dr. Beck.”

He’s up and on his feet before the words are out of your mouth. Warm fingers interlace with yours as the two of you move back towards the bed, falling onto the soft twin size mattress. His weight dips into the bed as he sinks his knees into it, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as you crawl towards the headboard. You draw your legs up, swaying them gently back and forth, palms flat on your thighs as you inhale deep, watching as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

The smile on your face grows larger as he crawls over you, pushing your legs open with his soft hands before he settles right between them. Chris takes his time looking at you, smiling soft as his eyes drift over your face, his index finger dragging down the bridge of your nose, over two full lips, and down your chin and neck. You let out a quick breath when the pad of that sneaky finger dips just inside your tank top— right into your cleavage.

He cups your face, his thumb resting on your lips, brushing gently, “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispers, blue eyes filling with earnest as they bounce between yours, “I mean it.”

You turn your head into his palm, pressing your lips into the soft, warm skin, planting kisses, “You promise?”

The delivery is breathless. Quiet. Small. Almost begging him to mean it. He takes a deep breath, pushes it out slow before leaning in, closing his eyes as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. That’s when he kisses you— slow. Deep. Tongue pushing through your lips and into your mouth. Massaging the roof of your mouth before sliding along your tongue. He even moans a little, lets his body— muscles, bones, brain— relax. Lets himself melt into you because it’s just been so damn long.

It ends slow, the kiss. Chris grabbing your lip with his teeth and pulling gently before he rests his forehead to yours. Eyes closed, his big, skilled hands and fingers flirting with your calves—pushing over your knees and then down your thighs to come to rest on your sides and hips.

“I promise.” You slide your hands up and down his sides, letting your eyelids flutter as he continues, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses, “We can start that life you’re so crazy about,” he laughs when you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, “Buy you a house.”

“On the base?”

“I thought you didn’t like the base?”

“I don’t… but I kinda... do.”

“Then yeah, on the base if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes are still closed as hot lips press against your face— the crook of your nose, underneath one eye, cheeks, and then chin. You push your fingers up into his hair as he forges a path with his lips and tongue— down your neck, over two collarbones, down your arm— all the while his hands move upward. Up into your silk top, nimble fingers playing with two tight nipples before he rucks the silk top up to your chin.

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What about them?”

“Them, who?”

Pointing with your foot towards the blinking red light in the corner, “Them.”

He laughs and you laugh, covering your face with your hands until Chris pries them away, “They’re nerds, babe. We’ve already made them so nervous they’ve left the control room.”

You honestly can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Not since he left you suppose. It’s a nice sound, for both you and him, filling up the small space, making it alive and lived in instead of clinical and dry, “That’s not nice, Chris!”

He shimmies the thin material up over your head, casting it to the floor, “It’s the truth! I should know. Remember the first time I saw you naked? I couldn’t look anybody in the eye for a week.”

The memory makes you laugh, soft and dreamy-like, “That was so long ago.”

Chris catches the tone. It makes him halt, for just a second, his eyes shifting away from you. Guilt. For holding you at an arm’s length for so long. For making you number two. For making you wait for him for so damn long.

You tilt your head, eyes searching his. Gentle hands claim his face, pulling him back into your strong gaze, “Stay with me,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, “You’re buying me a house.”

“Ah, yes,” with one fell swoop, your shorts are pulled down your legs, right over the tips of your manicured toes and thrown to the floor, “One story? Two?” He asks, back up on his knees.

“Umm, maybe just one,” You answer, sitting up, slipping your hands into the dark sweats still covering his bottom half, “A two story house is too much to keep clean.”

You pull, but not all the way. Just enough to see his hips and that little tuft of dark hair underneath his belly button. You can’t help yourself and lean forward, kissing his stomach, giggling when he jumps a little. When you do it again, kiss him, and then a third time, and a forth, he gives in. Sweeps your locs over your shoulders and pulls them into a ponytail in his hand. That’s when you hook your thumbs back underneath the thick band of his sweats and pull a little harder, pushing the material right over his hard cock, making it bounce.

Chris kicks out of the sweats, grabs your face in his hands and tilts it upward. Leans down and kisses you again— soft. Sweet. All while rubbing small circles into your cheeks with his thumbs. He stays there, forehead to forehead, eyelashes spread over his buttery, quickly blushing red cheeks as you palm him, dragging your hand from the base right to the tip.

It doesn’t take much— never has. After a few strokes, he’s wet and red all over. Chest, neck, cheeks. Mouth agape, pulling in ragged breaths as his eyelids flutter. He swallows hard, and then hums quick, deep and throaty before inhaling through his open mouth. You push upward, kissing him as you continue slow strokes, sweeping a thumb over his wet tip.

Fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh, down low, first by your knee. Then, slowly, they skirt upward, not groping or kneading, just brushing— flirting with your skin until they reach their destination. You gasp, mouth falling open as adept fingers— not only just in general, but with your body specifically— push through wet folds.

“One story it is then,” he breathes, hot, unhurried, “A dog and a,” he slams his eyes shut, hissing and grunting when you squeeze him, “Fuck baby,” he swallows again, lips trembling as he nuzzles in, rubbing the tips of your noses together, “A dog and a cat.”

Your free hand wraps around his neck, fingertips pushing into his hair as your head tips back, hips start to shove forward, eager for his touch— wanting those fingers inside. When Chris obliges, sinks his index and middle finger into your cunt— touch starved and needy— you mewl. Making a real sound for the first time in seven hundred and twenty seven days. It enlivens you both.

Chris pushes you back, lays you back onto the small mattress, spreads you out. Keeps his fingers inside, pumping slow, curling, massaging. Thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing. He lays between your legs, coming face to face with your most intimate and blows gently. Warm air sticking to balmy flesh. Big blue eyes flick up to yours, then back to your sweet, licking his lips as a squelch fills the room.

His tongue darts out, slips along the inside of your thigh. Your hips react instantly, jutting upward as a sharp breath fills your chest. A long arm pushes up your body, fingers prodding your breast, tweaking a nipple before he palms the skin, but not for long. Within seconds, his fingertips are pushing into a willing mouth. Your tongue, swirling around thick digits as you grab onto his hand, holding it there.

Warm air tickles damp skin again as he blows on you, “Have some babies,” he offers quick, the words muffled by your flesh as he finally laps at you, tongue slipping through sticky folds, flattening against your slit as he massages the delicate, “How many you want, baby?”

Nothing but a bitten-off groan answers him. It comes for many reasons. His fingers somehow delving deeper, lips brushing over your cunt— the thought of babies. Little brown skinned, curly headed babies running in the backyard with that dog and cat. Wide smiles, complete with missing teeth, loud laughter, declarations of love as they jump into mommy and daddy’s arms.

“Oh yeah,” heavy words breathed into your ear, a hunk of man now laying on top of you, cock pressing at your opening, “My pretty girl wants babies,” the wetness makes it easy for him to slide in— all the way in— bury deep, “I’m gonna give them to you. You’ve been so good.”

He’s moving, hips pushing and pulling as he cups your face in his hands, presses his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna fill you up,” he mutters, swollen lips brushing against yours, “Stuff you— full of— my, fuck,” a deep moan, another quick hiss as he bites his bottom lip, overcome by the warmth, the wet— the tight, “Fuck, you feel good.”

Feverish lips are on yours again, teeth nibbling as his hips shove into you. Soft and swift. A palm covering your breast, fingers pressing, kneading and working sensitive, responsive skin. Nipples hardening, heat blooming across an ardent canvas of skin, pulsing hips eager to meet his.

Chris cups your chin, pushes upward so you're forced to keep slitted eyes on him and him only, “You want my babies? Hmm? Tell me baby,” you can only whimper in response, digging your nails into his sides, drawing your legs up and around him as he plunges deep, “Come on honey, use those words. Tell me how much you want my babies.”

He fucks into you hard, jamming his hips just once— the sound of skin on skin slapping out loud and off the walls. It arches your back, the sudden, quick thrust. Sends you right up into his chest. Chris pulls you into his lap as he falls back on his ass, extending his legs, heels digging into the mattress as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and tight, fingers spreading out on your back.

Hips roll into one another. Fingers grip his calf as you lean back, hot, sloppy lips on your chest, over and between bouncing tits. A taut nipple pulled right into his wet mouth. Slippery tongue swirling and flicking, teeth nibbling before he sucks on the tight nub, teasing it further.

Then he’s holding your hips, forcing you down onto his cock. More rushed, sticky words falling from swollen, red lips, “You want me to fill you up? Hmm? Tell me.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, overcome by it all. The emotion of it, the physicality of you and him tangled together— the words, how many years you’ve waited to hear those words.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he purrs, thrusting harder, faster, “You want me to come in you, don’t you? You’d love it if I came in you, huh? Knocked you up? Gave you a baby?”

You kiss him hard. Cupping his face, moaning sweet into his wet mouth, “I want it,” it’s breathy— desperate, “I want it, Chris. I want it.”

“Then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you.”

It’s feverish after that. Pushing and pulling. Grunting, smacking— lips on lips, skin on skin. Large hands gripping, fingers pressing into the meat of thighs and calves and ass and tits. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs, your ass, slide up your back— around your neck as your head falls back. Those fingers find your mouth, push just inside as he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling your hips closer, helping them rock.

His fingers are out of your mouth, cupping your cheek now. Smoothing hair out of your face as it strains. You try not to get loud, slam your eyes closed, purse your lips as your toes curl and stomach tightens… heart flutters.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over your closed eyes before prodding at your lips, “Don’t do that, honey. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that. Come on, let me hear you.”

“No, I—“

“Don’t be modest,” his tone shifts, going stern and deep, and that’s all it really takes for the noise to flow, “I wanna hear you.”

But he knew that.

It’s a sweet little hum, and then a gasp before it’s clipped by an obscenity— a shaky, desperate, filthy word that dissolves away into a loud groan and then… it’s all downhill from there.

You couldn’t hold it in if you tried. It’s been too long. A pent up aggression, a nervous need all finally working its way out of you. You pull him close— crush your chest against his, wrap two liquid arms around his neck, press your face right against his. Chris loops an arm around your waist, squeezing your opposite hip, pressing his fingers right into the soft skin until it hurts.

But it’s good, the pain of the squeeze. It helps you right over the edge, makes you finally cum after seven hundred and twenty seven days. Slow at first. A warmth just taking its time as it spreads. The feeling sort of foreign because it’s been so long— your brain hasn’t caught up just yet.

When it does catch up, brain and body finding each other, dormant synapses kicking on with a jolt, it’s not just a warmth. It’s molten now, searing and stirring, passing through veins and muscles and skin and bone— it’s that deep. Toes curling so hard they go numb, fingertips digging into his shoulders as you throw your head back.

You’re sure the scientists and military guards can hear you three floors down.

Chris leans in, hot, wet, shiny lips pressing against your chest, over your tits with sloppy kisses, hips still churning into yours until they just can’t. Wet walls closing in, clamping down as they spasm, that molten enveloping him. His hips freeze quick with the first spurt, but find a haphazard rhythm as he comes. Fills you up just like he promised.

He pushes those warm blooms of silk deep with now pointed, long strokes. Not a drop escaping— it’s all for you, after all. Supply and demand and all that.

The mattress is a dream beneath you. Inviting and soft as he lays you into it, still rooted deep as he rolls you onto your side. An arm snakes around your hip, a palm and long fingers anchoring in the center of your chest. A hot, flushed cheek presses against yours as lazy wet lips drag along the back of your neck. Languid thrusts at random intervals keeps you gasping as he tucks his knees and thighs into the backs of yours.

“Say it again,” you whisper after a few quiet minutes, breath still heavy, chest still heaving.

Chris plunges into you again, soft and sweet and deep, “Say what, honey?”

“That you won’t,” the words break off, a moan replacing them as he kisses a trail down your arm, fucks into you once, twice, three times, “That you won’t leave me again.”

“I’m not leaving you again.”

When you wake up the next morning, that little whiteboard with the days scribbled on it is erased. All it says now?

Day one.

#bad things happen bingo #5k...holy god #chris beck #chris beck x reader #chris beck x black!reader #chris beck x you #you x chris beck #reader x chris beck #the martian #chris beck fanfiction

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911lonestarscreentime · 3 years

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Owen Strand Screen Time Meta Post

Welcome to the first in a series of posts analyzing the screen time of characters post season 2 of 911 Lone Star. I thought this idea would be more interesting, and efficient, than trying to put all of my thoughts for every character, and the entire season into one post.

First up is Owen because he’s the highest billed character and because when I put out a poll, he was the only character no one wanted to see first. So let’s dive in!

Read my analysis below the cut:

Season 1

I’ll be honest, when I started calculating the screen time I had no idea how much of an impact Owen’s time would have on the fandom. I really don’t recall there being that much discourse over it until I posted the results... and it didn’t really bother me before I saw the numbers? But after I did that first episode I was like oh..... yeah that’s a problem.

At least that pilot episode was the most screen time he’s gotten, though I’m willing to bet that will change with season 3′s “Owen Begins.” I mean in a way, the pilot episode was his begins episode (or could even be considered “Begins Again” like what they did with Bobby on 911) since it was about him packing up and starting a new life as captain of the 126. Essentially, the pilot episode served to set up that this would be Owen’s show.

The other episode where he took up a larger chunk of the screen time was 1x06 (”Friends Like These”) which makes sense because it was exploring his friendship with Billy... little did we know how important that would be later.

Most of his screen time in season 1 was concentrated around 8-10 minutes. Obviously that is the most screen time given to a character on the show, which makes sense since the show and the character was written for him and he hold the executive producer title.

The least amount of screen time he got was around 7.5 minutes in 1x03 (”Texas Proud”) and 1x08 (”Monster Inside”). I do find that especially interesting since those are still episodes where he played an important role in the plot, compared to other characters whose least amount of screen time meant they were lucky if they spoke one line. It’s also worth noting in 1x03, Owen still had the most screen time (though Michelle was a close second) and in 1x08, Michelle did beat him by a few minutes.

Season 2

We really went into season 2 with higher hopes, though it wasn’t much better (I would argue there was some improvement... but I’ll talk about that more later).

It says a lot that Owen’s top 3 episodes are 2x10, 2x11, and 2x12. Though he didn’t beat his previous record of over 20 minutes, he got nearly 15 minutes in 2x11 (”Slow Burn”)... which if you didn’t already know, is also the episode that was written by his son, John Owen Lowe, and directed by his brother, Chad Lowe. He also got around 12 minutes in the two episodes that buffer that one, 2x10 (“A Little Help From My Friends”) and 2x12 (”The Big Heat”). This three episode arc accounts for about 32% of his screen time this season.

Before that major arc in 2B, in the first half of season 2 his big episodes fell around 10 minutes each; 10:45 in 2x07 (”Displaced”), 10:00 in 2x03 (”Hold the Line”, the crossover), and 9:45 in 2x01 (”Back in the Saddle”)*

A big difference for this season compared to season 1 was that there were episodes where he did not get as much screen time. Whereas his least screen time was 7:30 last season, this season there were four episodes that were lower than that; 7:15 in 2x06 (“Everyone and Their Brother”), 6:00 in 2x13 (”One Day”), 5:30 in 2x02 (”2100°”), and of course, a mere 1:00 in 2x09 (“Saving Grace”). That is really the only episode where Owen has completely stepped aside, playing a very minor role in the overall plot. In 2x02, 2x06, and 2x13, Owen came in second behind Tommy (in x02 and x13) and Paul (in x06). And in 2x09, he came in fourth (the only time thus far he was not in the top 3) behind Judd, Grace, and Tommy.

(*I’ve mentioned the new method I’ve been using to calculate screen time on a few occasions now and I’ve only revisited 2x01 so far (almost done 2x02 tho) anyway, I’m using the data I collected using the old method for these posts but in an effort to be totally upfront about how the new method is going, Owen’s screen time for 2x01 is actually about 30 seconds higher than I originally calculated, coming it at 10:15 instead of 9:45. Not much of a difference, and idk how much the rest of the new method results will impact this meta post, but I wanted to be clear about it).

Total Screen Time

As the infographic above states, his total screen time for the two seasons comes in at nearly 3 hours and 45 minutes. Divided in half, thats around 112 minutes per season, which does fall in line with the totals for each season (103.25 minutes for season 1, 120.5 minutes for season 2). However, there was only 10 episodes in season 1, compared to the 14 we saw in season 2. With that in mind, you can begin to see how season 2 was actually a smidge better than season 1 when it came to how much screen time was given to Owen. But the real indicator is the averages, which is discussed next.

Average Screen Time

As you can see in the infographic, Owen’s average screen time in season 1 was around 10:15 and dropped to 8:30 in season 2. The series screen time (which is the total divided by 24, not those two totals divided by 2) comes in at about 9:15.

Obviously, even 8.5 minutes is still a huge amount of screen time. But compared to over 10 minutes in season 1, his average screen time is seeing a clear downward trend. I would take this as a win. It’s a small change, but it’s an indication that we are heading towards a day where Owen doesn’t eat up the majority of the screen time each episode.

Outliers

The idea of outlier episodes wasn’t even something I considered until a few weeks ago. This would be an episode where the screen time total was either much higher, or much lower than what is normally seen for that character.

According to my calculations, in season 1 the pilot episode at 20:45 is an outlier for Owen. In season 2, 2x09 (”Saving Grace”) is also an outlier at 1:00. And looking at the data set for all the episodes in series, both numbers (20:45 and 1:00) are outliers. (Outliers change based on the data set, so we need to look at each data set (season 1, season 2, and series) individually and not assume that an outlier for one season would also be an outlier for the series).

What happens when you remove the outliers?

That brings us to the above question. Is Owen’s 20+ minutes in the first episode the reason why his time is so high in season 1? Is his 1 minute in 2x09 bringing down his time in season 2? And what about the series?

I’m not sure if it’s worth examining how the totals are affected since that’s pretty self-explanatory. Obviously all the totals will go down if you take out the outlier episodes. But where it makes a difference as far as we’re concerned is the averages.

Obviously the average number is how much you should expect to see that character during an episode. But if 20 minutes is much higher than normal, and 1 minute is much lower than normal, then what happens when you take out those numbers? Well, something actually fairly interesting happens, that almost contradicts what I said before about the progress...

When you remove the pilot episode from the data set for season 1, the average comes to around 9:15. When you remove 2x09 from the data set for season 2, the average comes to around 9:15. When you remove both episodes from the series data set the average comes to (you guessed it) 9:15.

9:15 is more indicative of what to expect for Owen’s screen time in an average episode, and since it hasn’t changed that says a lot about the progress we’ve seen for screen time distribution.

Now as for what to do with this? Honestly, I have no idea. I mean the fact is that while these episodes are outliers, they did still happen. There is an episode where Owen only had about a minute of screen time; just like there’s an episode where he got over 20 minutes. Outliers are weird because I don’t want to not acknowledge them, and I think it’s important to look at when studying the screen time as a whole. But as for the reported numbers, we can stick with what is laid out in the infographic.

Closing Thoughts

It’s hard to say whether this season saw less Owen, or about the same. Of course when taking all episodes into account, it is less. But when you remove the outlier one minute episode, it’s really not that much better. But then again, the fact that we did get an episode where he was only on screen for a minute is a very good sign, so taking it out of the data set doesn’t exactly make sense.

I guess the biggest takeaway still is that Owen still has a lot. He always will. Even if he did have less this season, it’s still much more than the characters who come in second and third had. I like to think it will get better, and maybe it will, but personally I’ve accepted that Owen will always have the most, and he will have much more than other characters, but it shouldn’t be as much as it is. Hopefully his screen time will continue to trend down and allow for more time to explore the other characters on the show.

#meta #owen meta #owen strand #911 lone star

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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come on in, folks, i got some kind of goof ass Beetlejuice/Evil Dead crossover for you to enjoy.

He’s eighteen, and it’s Saturday, which means that he and Lydia are wandering around Manhattan, looking for trouble to get into. Lydia, eleven and ever his little shadow, is standing next to him, as they take a moment, on the busy New York street corner, to sip their boba and think about their next move. They were meant to be watching some horror movie that had looked alright from the previews, but ended up being so stupid, it wasn’t even fun, and the Deetz siblings had found themselves walking out, one hour poorer but a bucket of overly butter saturated movie popcorn richer. “I still can’t believe how bad that was,” Lydia says, again, huffing, because they’d actually paid money to see that stinker, instead of sneaking in, which is their usual habit. “Ya get one big name attached an’ everyone apparently stops givin’ a shit. Musta figured th’ droolin’ masses would eat it up,” he agrees, and he slurps up the last of his tapioca balls, and then proceeds to eat the plastic straw. “Is it too much to ask that characters actually be interesting, and, I don’t know, behave like normal human people?” Lyds bitches, as BJ takes a bite out of his cup, too. She glances up at him, dryly. “I mean, I guess maybe my standards for normality are low, but still.”

He grins at her. “Whatever could you possibly mean, sister dearest?” he puts on a posh, almost transatlantic accent, and she rolls her eyes, and sucks boba up in her straw, then shoots the pearls at him like a pea shooter. He snorts and laughs.

It’s a good day, despite the letdown at the movies. It’s nearly that time of year, just about the start of his seasonal depression, as the sun becomes shy and things go cold and gray. Still, there’s some time left with the sunshine, so he’s drinking it up, savoring it, and it feels good, to stand here with Lyds, and talk about nothing. “Alright, come on, let’s second act it,” he grins, and she perks up. “I think Wicked’s playing!” “Wicked’s always playin’.” “Well, I’m not sitting through Hamilton, it’s a Saturday. I’m not learning if I don’t have to.” “Totally fuckin’ fair. Music Man, maybe?” “Hugh Jackman’s weirdly brick shaped head freaks me out.” “There’s gotta be a show we can sneak into,” BJ frowns, scratching at the scruff of his chin, and then he catches a scent he’s never smelled before, as Lydia puzzles through their remaining options. It’s like death, sort of, but not. Like death warmed over, or death, refried. He takes his sister’s hand, and leads her away from the street corner, following the smell, nose in the air, pupils blown wide, and Lydia laughs. “Great, time to go poke a dead thing. That’s more fun than The Last Four Years, at least.” She’s seen him go like this before, and thinks she knows what to expect.

Neither of them know how to react when they follow the scent down an alleyway and see the violent fight happening in front of them.

Parked at the far end of the alleyway is a car, some 70’s make that he doesn’t know enough about such things to name, and between it, and the Deetz siblings, is an one handed man absolutely going feral on a group of three refried dead smelling zombie… things. “Deadly-vu,” he hears Lydia whisper, as they watch the man perform a scissor kick that sends a zombie head flying. It bounces like a basketball against the brick wall that makes the alleyway, rolls, and lands at the Deetz sibling’s feet. There’s a beat, as they stare at it, and it stares back, before the head on the ground opens its mouth and speaks. “DEMON!” it shrieks, and then it makes the life ending choice to roll at Lydia, teeth bared, and his boot is going through it, crushing through the skull like an overly juicy bug under his heel. He takes a second to wipe the gore from his sole onto the pavement. “Maybe Wicked could be good,” he turns and says to Lydia, who responds by ducking behind him, because the body the head formerly belonged to seems to be stumbling at them, clutching something in it’s boiled and infected and puss covered arms, and it thrusts the thing at BJ, before falling down and collapsing into dust. It’s a book. Some kind of creepy old demon book, from the look of it. He wrinkles his nose in vague disgust, and then takes a sniff. If the zombie things are refried death, this thing is a whole fucking Mexican food buffet of it, and it makes his head spin in a way he’s never felt before. He kind of likes it. He’s about to give the cursed reading material a tentative lick before a boom rings out from in front of them- the one handed man has pulled a sawed off shotgun off his back, and dispatched another corpse thing. There’s one left, and it’s circling the man, who by this point is so blood covered, he looks like he was tricked into being prom queen, or something.

“Is it just me, or do you freaks just keep gettin’ uglier?” the man quips, and the corpse lunges, a stumbling move which earns it the butt of the shotgun to the jaw, which goes flying. The zombie is shot through the gut, and drops, but is a twitching, squirming mess. BJ’s seen enough horror movies to know that thing is getting back up. The stranger has apparently, too. He takes a moment to reload the shotgun, then double taps, blowing clean through the thing’s skull. He blows at the slightly smoking barrels of his sawed off, twirls it, and holsters it, re-slipping it onto his back. It’s a pretty cool move, actually, and the siblings watch in rapt attention. It takes the three remaining people (well, two people, one demon,) in the alley a moment to actually focus on each other, and there’s silence, before the stranger speaks. “Uh,” says the man, covered in blood, and Lydia peaks out from behind BJ, and stares at him, with big eyes. “Kids,” he hears the man mutter. “Great, just what I need, a coupla kids, gettin’ in my way.. Hey, kiddies,” he says, louder, with a smile, which might be really charming when he’s not soaked in rot and blood, but the effect at the moment is not as sincere and friendly as he clearly thinks it is. “Looks like you two little heroes managed to wrangle my book away from those deadites. You wanna do your pal Ash a favor, and hand it over?” He makes a “come here” motion with his stump arm, and then seems to realize that’s not so appealing, because he tucks that appendage behind his back, worried, suddenly, about scaring them. As if a man with a missing hand is the weirdest thing they've seen in the last five minutes.

“What the fuck,” Lydia says, and BJ can’t help but agree with that sentiment. Also, he feels a vague sense of sudden responsibility for this weird old tome. It doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing a human should have. Maybe those zombies… deadites? Maybe they were trying to get back what was stolen from them. Though he’s not charitable enough to assume that they’re the good guys in this feud. The stranger, Ash, takes a careful step forward. “It’s alright,” he says, like he’s talking to a wild animal he’s trying to tame, and not a teen and preteen, respectively. “I’m not gonna hurtcha. Just need to get my book back.”

A sudden screeching wind roars down the alleyway, and both living humans react, ducking, as it bellows and swirls around them, kicking up dust and trash and chunks of leftover deadite. “Demon! Aid us!” BJ feels a presence in front of his face, something he can’t see, but a great, ancient something, reaching out to him, demanding, begging, pleading, for him to assist in whatever macabre goal it wants to meet. He responds by sticking his unglamoured tongue out at it. “Ewww, gross. No.”

The thing shrieks again, and makes a beeline for Lydia, which is just about the stupidest thing it could have done, because he drops his glamour fully and snarls, gives the ancient being a psychic push back, and he sends the thing that cannot be seen flying, out of the shady darkness of this alleyway, past what he assumes to be Ash’s car, and out onto the city street, into the sun. It shrieks and moans and curses him. He flips it off, as it dissipates. The vibe in the air, however, tells him it’s not “dead,” just gone.

Ash straightens up and looks at him. BJ’s already slipped his human disguise back on, so the effect is that Ash has just seen what seems to be a slightly too pale and definitely overweight human teen somehow push back an ancient evil, totally unaffected. Now it’s his turn to let out a confused, “What the fuck?”

“Come on, BJ!” Lydia grabs her big brother’s arm and pulls him away, running from the gore and the confused zombie slayer. “Wait, kids-!” Ash rounds the corner, after them, but the Deetz siblings are already gone, disappeared into thin air, flash stepping the span of blocks in the blink of an eye, and they don’t stop until Lydia, sick from the teleportation, gives his hand a squeeze. They appear on a rooftop, confusing and traumatizing some pigeons that had been roosting.

“Wait, why did we run?’ BJ asks, and Lydia looks at him like he’s a moron. “Because that guy was clearly a monster hunter! And kind of really good at it!” she says. He mulls that over, and smiles. “Worried for your big bro?” he bats his eyelashes at her, and she responds by slugging him in the gut, which he reacts the barest amount to. “Last thing I want is to explain to mom and dad how you ended up with a shotgun blast through your skull,” she says, and crosses her arms, before leaning forward, to study the book he’s still holding. “So. What is that?” He grins. “Wanna open it an’ find out?” Read the rest of the first chapter here!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice au #bj deetz au #ashley williams #ash williams #evil dead fanfiction #lydia deetz #emily deetz #charles deetz #my writing

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spytap · 3 years

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That Time I Maybe Accidentally Slid Between Universes On The Lower East Side: A Modern Pizza Brigadoon

Okay, we’re trying this again. With the words. Let’s give it a shot.

I was telling this story over the weekend, and it struck me that it’s something I’ve never really written down. But I think it’s worth documenting - you know, for science.

I guess I have to preface this by saying that I’m not the type of person to accept the unexplainable. In the Mulder/Scully matrix of assumptions, I lean much more Scully, assuming that most things have a reasonable explanation once more data is uncovered or known. I say that just so that I can say that one time while on a business trip to New York, I’m pretty sure I drunkenly dropped back and forth between parallel universes Sliders-style while trying to grab a slice.

Right, so let’s set the stage of our merry little fever dream of a play, shall we?

It’s 1:30am and I am drunk.

Wait, let’s be clear: I’m not just “I’m in New York and let’s have some fun” drunk, I’m “we’re at a digital media event and it’s the late oughts” drunk. I think it was the Webbies, but who knows. It could have been social media week or any number of other things. But if you were in the DM scene at the time, you remember (or not…) that any event which brought together the weird crossover between tech, social media, and nascent web video had, at its intersection, going hard in the motherfucking paint, if you get my drift.

The late oughts were where SXSW got its reputation as an epic and riotous shitshow where long term memories went to die. Companies lived and died by the parties they threw way out in the wasteland that was “anywhere off of sixth street.” It set the scene for an arms race of irresponsibility that wouldn’t peter out until about 2012. And New York, being much larger than Austin and with a scrappy underdog of a tech industry, had a reputation to uphold.

So that’s how I find myself at my third after party, in a bar called (I think?) Ford’s, on the lower east side, surrounded by the technorati, glitterati, and all other manner of descriptive terms for young, pretty, newly and soon-to-be rich people, before we discovered that they were called “influencers.”

This bar is a proper dive. Not quite “you could destroy everything in here and you’d be out like fifteen bucks” but still well into “you’re gonna need more than a new paint job once the artisan cheese shops roll into this neighborhood.” Put in 2009 money, we were still getting five dollar beers in Manhattan, so do with that what you will.

Back to the story: right around 1:30AM, I’m thinking three things: 1) I would very much like to slam an inordinate amount of pizza into my mouth, 2) I probably need to use the restroom before I do so, and 3) The four or five people I’m with are probably feeling the same way. So I check in with my crew, tell them I’m gonna hit the head and then we’re gonna hit some pizza. First things first though: I gotta get some crucial info from the bartender.

I saunter up to the bar and ask where I can get a slice. The sole bartender, a man who is both younger and exponentially cooler than me, tells me “New York’s best pizza is two blocks up and one left.”

“New York’s best?” I clarify, because wouldn’t that be a coincidence?

“Yep, New York’s best pizza. Two blocks up, one left.”

Well, I know that everyone thinks they know the best pizza in town, but this dude looks like he’s a perpetual trend setter, so it feels like it has a higher-than-average likelihood of relative goodness. Besides, I’ve assaulted my sense well past the realm of good taste, so as long as it’s not cooked on a literal garbage can, it should serve it’s purpose. I pop the directions into the old memory banks, and wander off through the broken door that indicates relief (and, in retrospect, possibly tetanus.)

True to its dive bar requirements, this restroom is super classy you guys. Just above the pee trough (like an actual six foot long trough that horses would drink out of) (in other circumstances) there’s a mirror where someone has carved “Smoke Beer” - a particular exercise that I contemplate for far too long. Is this a flavor profile of some cheeky new porter? Are they suggesting you replace your bong water with Budweiser? Or is this an actual “get a beaker and some burners and let’s get high in the science lab” situation?

Regardless, my attention turns back to the core mission: Operation Pizza Face Hole Intersection. So I push away the culinary suggestion, zip up, and return to the main room to find…no one.

I don’t mean my friends were gone. I mean that when I left to pee, there was somewhere between 150 and 200 people in this bar, and now there were two. And I was one of them. The other one is a bartender, but very crucially, not the bartender I was just speaking to one or two or five hundred billion minutes ago. This is a new bartender. He’s older. And has a beard. This is very distinctly a different person, but I’m still hung up on the reality that there is no one else in this bar except for him and me.

I look at this new bartender. He looks at me. I look around to see if maybe my friends are hiding behind something, but this place doesn’t even have tables, let alone hiding spaces. I look back. He’s still looking at me. So I do the only logical thing to do in this scenario: I run away.

Outside, I pull out my blackberry (shut up) and call my friends. Voicemail. Every one. No one picks up. I text them “where the fuck are you assholes” but drunkenly, on a keyboard the size of a postage stamp, so they don’t write back, even to clarify whether I just had a stroke.

Something has definitely gone horribly wrong. I am very drunk in a strange part of a strange city. Everyone I know and several dozen complete strangers have been Thanos-snapped into the ether of the universe. I am alone and have no real understanding of how to get home from here. But, you know, I also still really want pizza. So I do the only thing that truly makes sense in this scenario: I start walking towards pizza.

One block up, things start getting weird(er). Now weird in nighttime Manhattan isn’t quite as weird as it used to be, and I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Venice Beach, so my weird meter is a little skewed compared to most people. But it’s as-near-as-matters-2am now and the streets of the lower east side are deserted, except for…

Look, there’s no way to say this without sounding like I’m writing a David Lynch spec, so I’m just gonna say it and you’re gonna have to trust me here.

Directly in front of me there is a group of a dozen or so seven to ten year old girls playing double dutch in the middle of the street. A totally normal sight at 2pm - less so at 2am. There are no adults here. Or anywhere. Except me. And right as I notice them, they notice me. They don’t stop their monotone chanting, they just continue to do so while swiveling their heads to follow me like a leopard follows a [whatever leopards eat - I’m not looking it up on Wikipedia right now.]

So once again: empty streets in the LES, except for me and a gaggle of girls wielding a pair of twin jump ropes. And chanting. I briefly wonder if they’re okay and why they’re out here all along performing what’s starting to sound more and more like some pagan ritual before I keep fucking walking because there’s no scenario in which any good comes from me stopping and hanging around. But I start thinking that I need a witness here.

The blessing of living in California and spending a lot of time in New York is actually time. More specifically, that you can call your girlfriend at what’s almost your 2AM and she’ll still be up and wondering what the absolute fuck you’re talking about when you open with “I hope I didn’t wake you but everyone disappeared and I’m kind of scared because there’s this creepy group of girls playing double dutch but I think it’s going to be alright because I’m walking to get pizza.”

We’d been together for a while at that point, so thankfully I’d build up a reservoir of good graces to pull from in moments like these.

Witness achieved, I told her precisely (ish) where I was, so the police could find my body, and continued my Epic Pizza Quest. Two blocks up, and one block left, where I found…

New York’s Best Pizza. That’s the goddamned name. Motherfucking hipster bartenders.

It’s open, for some reason, and empty for good reason, but after some back and forth that includes “well I don’t have any and I’d have to make a full pizza” and “I understand but I don’t want a full fucking pizza, I just want a slice” I get a couple slices and, for lack of anything better to do, decide to head back to Ford’s.

Now you might be asking yourself, dear reader, why I would march back through a fae revelry towards a crack in the universe, and that’s a very good question. The answer is that I was very drunk at the time.

So back I went.

The children were still there, still playing double dutch. (In my memory of this, they’re doing everything slowly and in a minor key, but it’s likely they were normal speed and tone, and I was just perceiving things slowly for chemical reasons.) My phone comes out again and I subtly (HA) narrate my way through this gauntlet to my girlfriend (and for the police report) and back towards the bar/Tardis.

Which brings us to our climax. See, there’s something even more disconcerting than leaving a restroom to find an erstwhile packed bar with naught but tumbleweeds, and that’s coming back to the deserted bar and finding it full again. Like packed full. Like normal full. Like Digital Media Event after party full. You know, like you remembered it pre-restroom (which is as weird a sentence to type as it is, I imagine, to read.)

I immediately run into my friends, who not only know nothing at all about the empty bar, but proclaim that they’ve been looking for me for “like an hour.” They’ve called and texted me, they say, which is ludicrous because I’ve been using my phone and I would have…

I looked at my phone. I had seven missed calls. A dozen texts. None of which were on my phone when I used it just moments ago, but all of which were timestamped over the past hour-ish.

I call my girlfriend again. Please pick up.

“Did you just talk to me and did I just tell you about everyone disappearing and the bar being totally empty and the weird creepy double dutch girls and getting into an argument with the pizza guy at New York’s Best Pizza?” I shouted into the phone, to the absolute horror of my friends (who were probably wondering what legal obligations they had to return me to my hotel and/or the insane asylum before I hurt myself.)

“Yes…” she responded, probably wondering what obligations she had to guide me to my hotel and/or the insane asylum before I hurt myself.

“Good!” I shouted, and promptly hung up, having proven my sanity, but really testing the depths of that aforementioned reservoir of goodwill. She would later tell me that somehow the second phone call was weirder than the first.

Moving past my friends, I stormed back into the bar. The bartender (the first one, the hipster one, the human one) clocked me coming in, but before he could open his mouth to ask what was probably going to be a very friendly question about whether I found the pizza place, or did I want to close out the tab I’d left open, instead got to be on the receiving end of me shouting “You sent me to a really fucking weird pizza place!” before marching out the door; thus cementing my reputation as a gifter of bizarre and inexplicable social interactions, and the probable punchline to someone else’s very different story.

For the rest of the week, my friends would swear up, down, sideways, sober, and drunk that no, the bar did not empty out; no, this was not a prank; no, they didn’t see me leave; and yes, they were in the very full and active bar the entire time I was gone.

It’s ten years later, and I don’t have an explanation for this event. I wouldn’t say it haunts me, but it’s definitely one of the weirder things that’s ever happened to me. And weirder still, in writing down this modern pizza-driven Brigadoon, I looked up Ford’s and New York’s Best Pizza just to see if I remembered their names right - and I can’t find any trace of either of them.

I’m still with the same girlfriend, and she still remembers the phone calls (vividly), but no one else was actually there, so no one else can verify the very weird set of events and circumstances that happened late that night, and into the early morning, across a series of overlapping universes.

Somewhere, out there in the ether of the multiverse, I imagine one version of me is still wondering where everyone went and yearning for a slice of New York’s Best Pizza.

#Personal

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #233: The Annihilation Gambit!

July, 1983

“Up against... the BARRIER!”

Pretty cool cover!

So here’s the thing. This is a crossover with Fantastic Four. John Byrne even gets a credit for breakdowns and co-plotting.

I’m not going to completely cover the related FF issues but I’ll dip into the relevant parts of them.

For example, let’s discuss Fantastic Four #254 which coincided with the ending of Avengers #232. The thing with the fleeing crowd that didn’t know what they were fleeing and the invisible wall She-Hulk bonked off of? What’s the deal with that?

Allow me to summarize.

The Fantastic Four went off to explore the Negative Zone and had a series of weird and silly adventures. They left Alicia behind to babysit Franklin but Annihilus popped out of the portal and took them captive. This happened back in #251 so he’s had the run of the place for a while!

He’s been making modifications to the Negative Zone Access Portal and adapting the generators. For whatever reason, switching the machine on sends out potent fear waves which causes everyone to flee the area of the Baxter Building. There scene where She-Hulk and Wasp see the fleeing crowd and bonks off an invisible wall repeats.

And that’s all you need to know! Annihilus is messing around, potent fear waves, invisible wall, Avengers!

Now let’s get to the Avengers part of this crossover.

The Avengers issue of Avengers starts with Captain Marvel booking it over New York musing about what an eventful day she’s had as a full-fledged Avenger.

What with having to rescue President Reagan after he was taken hostage by soggy swamp men. Then Eros (Starfox) showed up and insisted on joining. Then Monica, Starfox, and Thor went off to catch Plantman who engineered the presidential hostage thing. All of that in only six hours!

Monica Marvel Rambeau is on her way to the mansion to give her report when she too bonks into something.

Captain Marvel: “It was as if I bounced off some sort of invisible wall! But that doesn’t make sense!”

Yeah, it really doesn’t!

As Monica herself points out, the wall is invisible ie light is going through it. So her light form should be able to go through it too!

Its a very selective invisible wall, apparently. And it gives her a weird ominous feel to touch.

But she’s not going to let sleeping walls lie and decides to try different energy forms to see if anything can get through.

Annnnnnd. Radios, cosmic rays, electricity, infrared, x-rays, and even gamma rays can’t get through. Although, Monica has the feeling that the wall gave a bit under the gamma, but not enough to matter.

Monica detours around the wall and heads back towards her original destination. AVENGERS MANSION!

When Monica arrives, cool team leader Janet the Wasp van Dyne is talking with the police. Obviously the police aren’t equipped to deal with an invisible dome.

At the least, though, Jan uses the NYPD data-link to figure out where the giant dome is centered.

Also, Wasp has another new outfit. This is the same day.

But its pretty snazzy black and purple so I won’t complain.

Monica tells Jan that Big Trouble is brewing and Jan is basically like ‘oh god now what’ but thankfully Monica and Jan are on the same case.

MEANWHILE, Steve Rogers’ modest Brooklyn Heights apartment. Where Steve Rogers is not having a conversation about his feelings with his girlfriend Bernie Rosenthal because his feelings are classified!

Steve Rogers: “In a way. It’s Avengers business!”

I’d mock this but what has Steve bummed and pacing like a caged bear is that Tony Stark, his good pal who he’ll never Civil War with, has quit the Avengers, gave Iron Man up to someone else, and is trying to drink himself to unconsciousness.

Which is very concerning! But also something you can’t really share the full details of without revealing a lot of secrets that aren’t yours to reveal! I feel like you could at least say ‘I think my friend is an alcoholic but won’t accept my help’ without spilling secrets but shrug.

At least Steve is open with Bernie. Yeah, she knows he’s Captain America!

Truly, the man is a role model. Not just as a superhero but also on dating.

Steve gets a BZZZT on his snazzy cool radio wristwatch, possibly the coolest thing to wear on one’s wrist ha ha don’t think about Avengers wearing Apple Watches.

Anyway, Jan updates Steve on the invisible - and expanding - dome. And that weirdly, there doesn’t seem to be anyone trapped inside because everyone ran away from it because its inexplicably spooky.

So Steve rushes off to Save The Day, stripping mid-run because that’s the kind of casualness and comfort you can have in a relationship where you’re open and honest.

See how Steve didn’t have to make up a half-assed excuse? Maybe think about that, Spider-Man. You’re not in this scene but maybe think about it.

Meanwhile again, the Baxter Building.

Where thankfully for people not reading Fantastic Four, we get an echoed scene where Annihilus motive rants at captive audience Alicia Masters.

Basically, Annihilus is feeling very bummed that Blastaar stole his Cosmic Control Rod in Marvel Two-in-One #75. For one thing, it really tied his whole outfit together. For another, without it, Annihilus isn’t immortal and he’s freaking out about dying. And not dying eventually, he’s apparently got Doom-level messed up face now from how he’s degrading.

So really the only real way to come to terms with mortality is to destroy two whole universes so you don’t die alone.

Annihilus broke Reed’s Negative Zone Access Portal and used its power core to power his own impenetrable NULL-FIELD. Which I guess is the invisible dome.

Annihilus: “How wonderfully ironic -- that a device which once produced a gateway between two universes should provide the power to utterly destroy them!”

I’m missing some middle steps here but basically invisible dome -> ??? -> destruction of the Negative Zone and the, uh, Positive Zone.

A MEEP MEEP from a computer which may be a roadrunner gets Annihilus’ attention and he sees to his shock that She-Hulk has planted her feet and is trying to bodily hold the dome back.

It’s not working but its slowing it almost imperceptibly and even that’s supposed to be impossible.

Annihilus: “What manner of creature is this?!”

I’d guess gamma-powered She-Hulk is having a tiny bit of luck against the dome for the same reason that Captain Marvel did when she tried gamma radiation.

Wasp, Captain America, and Captain Marvel show up to help She-Hulk.

She-Hulk tells the other Avengers that the invisible dome keeps “oozing over everything inanimate” but that she(-Hulk) can’t stop it.

Cap suggests using his shield despite the risk of losing it inside the dome.

Because, when Captain America uses his mighty shield, all who oppose his shield must yield. So maybe he’s onto something.

She-Hulk plants the shield in the ground in the path of the dome.

So good news/bad news.

The dome doesn’t swallow up the shield. But the dome just pushes the shield, carving a little furrow in the ground.

That cracks me up a little, I will not lie.

I don’t know why Cap’s super cool shield is exempt from getting schlorped up by the null-field but now they have a good idea where it is without having to bonk!

Speaking of bonk, Thor and Starfox come to join the party and Starfox runs right into the invisible wall.

Hee hee hee.

He also drops right into She-Hulk’s arms and they have a mutual banter moment.

She-Hulk: “Hmm! I’ve never had anyone fall for me like this before!”

Starfox: “I assure you it was totally unplanned... but rarely have I fallen into such open and inviting arms!”

If I recall correctly, they do hook up at one point and then years later She-Hulk beats seven kinds of shit out of him when the question arises of whether his powers influenced her into it.

At least Starfox is receptive and she’s not stalking Ben Grimm.

Anyway, Thor tries his hand at busting the null-field by shooting a bunch of lightning at it. Even though Captain Marvel tells him she already tried electricity.

Thor gotta Thor though.

And when the field stands firm against all the lightning, he gets pissed and hurls his hammer into it.

Mjolnir flies into the field, loses steam, and just pitches gently to Earth.

Bit confusing. I wonder why Cap’s shield can’t go through the dome but Mjolnir can.

BY THE WAY, THEY LEFT CAP’S SHIELD JAMMED AGAINST THE DOME.

They don’t comment on it but you can see it still gouging up the pavement. I guess they’re using it to mark where the dome is?

Amazing.

Anyway, Thor marvels at how Mjolnir left no mark on the invisible barrier and how its not returning to his hand like it should. Clearly there’s some weird property of the barrier interfering with Mjolnir.

Cap points out yeah thats interesting but isn’t there something that happens if you have Mjolnir out of hand for too long?

So Thor runs away and turns into Normal Doctor Donald Blake in an alleyway where nobody can see it happen.

Again: amazing.

Thor is basically out of the story because Normal Doctor Donald Blake can’t do anything to affect the barrier and he can’t get Mjolnir back while its up. So he’s just going to be twiddling his thumbs.

MEANWHILE, at Cross Technological Enterprises.

Hawkeye tries to cajole inventor Jorge to build some contraption for him but the man protests that he designed it in his spare time but if he builds a working model on staff, CTE will own the invention.

Unless someone approves a sub-contractor waiver that will let him keep the rights but who would do such a thing for him??

Hawkeye decides that as head of security he’ll do such a thing. I don’t know if head of security has any kind of sway like that but I imagine that won’t stop Hawkeye from insisting that he does.

Then Hawkeye hears about the Avengers dealing with the dome thing and gets sad that he can’t be out there with them.

Hawkeye: “Blast it, I oughta be out there with the rest of the Avengers! But, as long as my leg’s in a cast, I’m a liability to ‘em... until I prove otherwise!”

Maybe focus on letting your leg heal!

I don’t know what nonsense you’re brewing up and I know that months is forever in comic book time but maybe just take the time and let your leg heal up!

Back over at the Avengers, Cap and Wasp now justify to the others why Thor took off. Claiming that they sent him on a scouting mission. Captain Marvel objects that scouting is her specialty, what with the lightspeed dash, so Cap claims that brute force isn’t helping so its more important to have Captain Marvel’s versatility here.

Leading She-Hulk to snark that brute force not working doesn’t give her a lot to do.

Starfox has become instantly bored with the plot because he’s here for adventure dangit, so he wanders off to go flirt with an EMT.

Because Starfox.

A Quinjet arrives, because Wasp has put her true superpower to work.

The power of NETWORKING!

Aka, she placed a call to Vision and Scarlet Witch and they just showed up to help.

Wasp explains the situation and Vision decides he’s going to intangible through the field.

Vision: “Interesting. It does have an oddly unsettling ‘feel’ to it!”

Then he walks through and instantly collapses face first into the asphalt.

The Avengers’ bumbling attempts to deal with the null field are almost farcical really.

Scarlet Witch is alarmed by her robot husband faceplanting so tries to use her plot-resolving probability powers on the invisible barrier but to no avail.

OH NO HER DOES ANYTHING POWER DID NOTHING!

She bangs on the invisible wall yelling Vision’s name but Cap tells her “that won’t do any good!”

True but c’mon. Her robot husband just collapsed. Have some understanding.

Although I wonder what’s going on here.

The field goes over inanimate objects but doesn’t let Cap’s shield through. Mjolnir and Vision can go through it (although Vision does the intangible) but lose power shortly after entering.

Then again it is called a “null-field.” It probably does whatever it wants.

I’m just wondering whether Vision counts as an inanimate object or not. He’s very animate but he’s not strictly speaking biologically speaking alive.

Meanwhile, in the Baxter Building, Annihilus is laughing up a storm at the Avengers’ silly hijinxes. But mostly in the ‘they thought they could stop me’ sense.

Annihilus: “Lesser beings such as these are helpless before the genius of Annihilus! They do not deserve to live -- just as I do not deserve to die! I curse the fates which have robbed me of my rightful immortality! But even though life slowly ebbs from the dissipated body within my exo-skeletal armor, still shall I be Annihilus... still shall I be He-Who-Annihilates!”

And he pulls the Big Dramatic Lever.

Outside, Starfox is still flirting with the paramedic while she asks whether he should be helping the other Avengers?

Starfox: -squishes her face- “Alas, I am not a full Avenger. I am but a trainee, at the others’ beck and call! If they want me, they will call.”

And then he tries to make out but she’s distracted by the Baxter Building suddenly glowing with an awesome power.

And Starfox freaks out. He freaks out so much that he realizes that now is not the time for making out. That’s how alarming things suddenly are!

Paramedic: “Brighter than the moon... glowing like there’s no tomorrow...”

Starfox: “I fear your choice of words is most apt!”

And then he wanders back on over to the Avengers to tell them how messed up everything is.

Something occurs to me.

The Avengers don’t really have a Smart Guy TM currently. Tony left them in the lurch in that regard. And they tried to recruit Hulk again (apparently in Incredible Hulk #285).

Cap(tain America), Captain Marvel, Wasp, She-Hulk, and Thor are great. But they’re not people who can look at a thing and instantly jump to a correct conclusion about which technobabble will keep things from bad.

I think... Starfox may have become the Smart Guy TM of the team by default because he does have advanced space learning even though I’m pretty sure he napped through advanced space learning science class.

My god, the state of things.

Anyway, Starfox directs the Avengers’ attention over to the Baxter Building. Within the invisible field, there’s a second glowing field. And based on Starfox’s brains, the invisible field is a null-field (yes, that’s true) which cancels out all energy within, except at its focal point. Uh, sure. I think if all energy was cancelled out, we’d see way wilder effects but sure.

The glowing field is positive energy. And when the glow meets the invisible, it will cause the universe to merge with the Negative Zone AND THEN DESTROY THEM BOTH.

See, this is something that’s known on Titan. They just study ways to destroy everything apparently, nbd.

Starfox even mentions that his brother Thanos knows about this but “not even my brother Thanos was mad enough to test it!”

I dunno. I feel like Thanos is exactly mad enough to do that. I also feel like Starfox doesn’t know his brother was well as he thinks. So, yeah.

Hence, they’re all doomed. I mean, unless there was some way to penetrate the null-field BUT WAIT, Starfox says, didn’t Captain Marvel feel the field give slightly under gamma radiation? THEN THERE STILL MAY BE HOPE!

Yeah... Yeah. Starfox is the Avengers’ Smart Guy now. God.

Its like a reverse-Beast. He came to be a smart guy but the Avengers’ had plenty of those so decided to be the fun guy.

Starfox came out just to have a good time and he has to use his space brains to save reality.

(Also, its because of Same Face but Starfox even looks like Reed while he’s transitioning from doomsaying to figuring out the whole thing just by panicking and explaining things)

So after the Avengers do some calculations and preparations, Captain Marvel blasts off into space!

Cap(tain America) estimates that they only have twenty minutes and that a lot can go wrong.

Then a giant shouty bug man appears in the sky to shout.

Annihilus: “PEOPLE OF EARTH -- HEAR NOW THE WORDS OF ANNIHILUS! YOU ARE HELPLESS BEFORE ME! I AM YOUR DEATH!”

“The destruction of all that lives has ever been my goal -- but never have I had the means to kill so many! The time of universal death is at hand! I see among you those who are known as the Avengers... those who you would call heroes! Hah! They cannot save you! They are as helpless as the accursed Fantastic Four!”

“There is no hope for anyone this day! This is the day that Annihilus dies! And as I die, I shall reach out and I shall shake the very foundations of two universes! AND ALL SHALL PERISH WITH ME!”

Not gonna lie.

That’s a damn good villain speech.

You’ve got the villain head in front of an apocalyptic pink sky. You’ve got evil gloating. You’ve even got some dunks thrown at the superheroes because you just know that average civilians will be like ‘the Avengers will save us!’

Pretty good rant, Annihilus.

“Meanwhile, in the vacuum of space, the lightform of Captain Marvel has already flashed beyond the orbit of the moon”

Amazing.

Simply amazing.

Captain Marvel nyooms past the moon and traverses 93-million miles to go to the sun.

Which, even at lightspeed, takes over eight minutes.

A helpful reminder that even the ability to go as fast as light doesn’t necessarily mean you can get everywhere instantly. Cosmic distances are vast.

Captain Marvel nyooms around the sun, so close that even in the form of a light, she can feel the Sun’s gravity.

This is all some great stuff.

Then, Captain Marvel melds with a coherent light beam fired from solar satellite Starcore-One and transforms it and herself into a gamma ray laser beam NYOOMING right at Earth.

Blasting through the null-field just in time to interrupt more of Annihilus’ villain ranting.

Annihilus: “Prepare to make your final accounting, mortals! These are your last wretched moments of... eh?”

And then with a SKRAKATA SKRAKATA BOOM, the null field and positive energy fields are neutralized.

She-Hulk who was casually leaning on an invisible wall FLUMPS to the ground.

Wasp assembles the Avengers still milling about and tells them to move on the Baxter Building since Annihilus might still have tricks up his sleeve.

With the null field gone, the terrified crowds of onlookers are now just confused onlookers and want to get back to what they were doing before they started panicking.

Normal Doctor Donald Blake has to reach through the crowd of legs to grab Mjolnir so he can become Thor and rejoin the Avengers.

Y’know, before someone starts pondering why they haven’t seen him in a while.

Scarlet Witch notices sudden Thor and since everyone else ran off without paying any mind to Vision (geez, what the hell, the Avengers? He’s your good pal chum!) she begs Thor to help.

Scarlet Witch: “Thank heavens, you’ve returned! The Vision was injured somehow by that null-field! I... I can’t find any vital signs! His synthetic body is too different for the paramedics to do anything! Help us! Please -- !”

Thor slings Vision over shoulder exactly like you’d expect a buff Norse god to do and reassures Wanda that they’ll find someone to revive Vision.

At the Baxter Building, the Avengers very courteously go in through the front door because there’s just a lot of defensive systems that may or may not be active. And anyway, Wasp has a key to the special elevator.

Apparently, Wasp is such good friends with Sue Storm that she was given one of those special lasers incorporated into her new costume that opens the elevator doors.

I’ll have to check with my friend who liveblogs Fantastic Four to see if Jan shows up much. Because Sue has shown up a couple times in Avengers to build the idea that she and Wasp are good friends after their cool brunch but I haven’t heard of the reverse.

When the Avengers get to the 34th floor to confront Annihilus, they find that it’s been taken care of off in Fantastic Four.

The caption tells me for the full story to see that issue #256 and for once, I will.

(Interestingly, while Byrne got a co-plotter credit on this Avengers issue, Stern doesn’t get the same in the corresponding FF issue which really suggests who the driving force of the story was.)

Over in FF #256, the FF are stranded in the Negative Zone for reasons but have also noticed the null-field and positive field thing going on. Reed works to limit the effects of the fields merging to only the Baxter Building instead of the whole universe, which will also help the FF return home. He also hopes that someone on the Earth side of things “an Avenger perhaps” is also taking action.

Which, yeah. Captain Marvel’s whole thing where she launched herself at the Baxter Building from the Sun.

While she’s doing that, the thing that Reed is doing starts shorting out the circuity that Annihilus is using.

Then, Captain Marvel’s appearance causes the console Annihilus is working at to explode in his face, destroying his life-support armor.

Annihilus tries to activate the ‘destroy the universe’ thing manually but because of Reed’s machinations, the Fantastic Four get pulled back into the universe and Annihilus gets booted into the Negative Zone.

Its implied that Annihilus dies here but ha ha ha no he’s going to show up again without explaining how he survived. What a dick.

The Fantastic Four pop back into the Baxter building with the colors in their outfits changed because of technobabble. Reed instantly accosts Captain Marvel for being someone he doesn’t recognize but Thing tells him who she is and defuses things.

Thing runs off to take Alicia to the hospital, Sue runs off to look for Franklin, and Reed and Human Torch put out all the fires.

And that’s where the books sync up so back over to Avengers.

The Avengers meet up with the FF and compare notes and Reed starts trying to technobabble explain the change in uniforms when Wanda interrupts and asks someone to help Vision.

Reed examines Vision and comes up with some good news.

Vision is, more or less, okay. When he entered the null-field it drained his energy and disrupted his synapses but there shouldn’t be any permanent damage. The robot coma is Vision basically fixing himself up but Reed could speed up the process and help him recover faster.

And then Sue comes in with an unconscious Franklin.

Everyone drops everything to immediately rush off to the hospital, leaving Wanda and coma-Vision alone.

I mean. Kinda rude. Its entirely fair for Reed and Sue to run off. Its their son. And Johnny flies ahead to alert the emergency ward. But does the situation really need Starfox, Captain America and She-Hulk?

(The FF issue actually shows that Captain Marvel stuck around. She barely knows Wanda and Vision and she’s actually being courteous to them. Geez.)

I’ll give Thor a pass because he can turn into a Perfectly Normal Doctor. But really? Everyone is just leaving Wanda alone? Just like they left Vision just passed out in the street?

The Avengers are being dicks to Vision and Wanda today!

Follow @essential-avengers and like and reblog perhaps. Because I wouldn’t leave Vision lying passed out in the street and I haven’t even been his friend for years. Just saying.

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Wake-Up Calls and Watermelon (SPN/CM)

Criminal Minds / Supernatural crossover!

Word Count: ~2140

Warnings: Irresponsible use of pink feathery handcuffs, but don’t worry, Sam is there to give a safety lecture. Kiddie pools, kittens, an emotional support cyberterrorist, and so much fluff. Ridiculous escapism at its finest. Everybody needs a smile these days, right?

A/N: Four mornings on the Wayward Sons World Tour. This is part of the Rockstar AU, but it can be read on its own, as can most of that series. There’s no real plot, just shenanigans and silliness.

Thanks to @stunudo and @fookinghelljensensthighs for pre-reading and inspirational photographs, respectively!

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 4: somewhere between Miami and Orlando, FL

Something is meowing.

Rossi frowns to himself and opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of his bunk.

Something is meowing on his bus.

His first thought would ordinarily be Penelope and one of her assorted stuffed animals or weird talking figurines. Spencer could also potentially be the culprit, depending on what sort of chemicals were in his system. Last time Rossi checked, though, both of them were on the other bus, where the shenanigans are supposed to happen. This is the quiet bus, where the grownups sleep.

The mysterious something meows again.

Bad enough that he’s slumming it sleeping on a goddamn tour bus. Now there’s a goddamn petting zoo on board. Rossi sighs and gets out of his bunk to investigate.

“Who’s the cutest kitten in the entire world?” Morgan is sitting on the ground in the front, smiling adoringly at a tiny ball of black fuzz he’s cradling in his palms. “Who’s the sweetest little furball I’ve ever seen, hmm?”

“How on God’s green earth did you find a kitten at —” Rossi glances at the clock on the microwave. “—nine in the morning in the middle of Florida?”

Morgan looks a little guilty, but Rossi can’t tell if it’s because he has a kitten or because he got caught using that ridiculous high-pitched voice.

“We’re at a rest stop so the drivers can get a couple hours’ sleep, and Hotch and I were stretching our legs, and they were in a box close to the highway,” Morgan explains. “He was the only one who was still alive. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

The door opens, and Hotch comes in, carefully carrying a small dish of water. He’s followed by Sam Winchester, who has an upside-down drum that’s padded with a towel.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Rossi mutters, watching the three grown men surround the kitten and coo at it. Morgan tucks it into the drum and it curls up happily, meowing its appreciation.

Sam’s phone rings, and he digs it out of his pocket and answers: “Yeah? No, we got water, we just — no, Dean, Jesus. Just the hoodie. Did you find it?” He pauses and scowls, stepping away from the others and lowering his voice. “No, that’d be way too big for it, are you kidding me? That collar was specially made… no! Leave the fucking leash, Dean, it’s not like we’re taking the kitten for walks.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, bring the feathery thing, just — oh for fuck’s sake, leave that bag alone before you find something you really don’t — Dean. Yeah. Cool.” He grimaces and hangs up.

“Do I want to know?” Rossi asks, with a new sense of respect.

“No,” Sam says firmly. He turns back to Hotch and Morgan and announces, “Dean’s bringing some stuff we can use as cat toys, and a big hoodie with a pocket so you can carry it around.”

“Sweet. Thanks, man,” Morgan says, flashing a bright grin. He’s all googly-eyed.

“What should we name it?” Sam asks, crouching down and rubbing under the kitten’s chin with one careful finger.

They all take a moment to consider. The little ball of fluff is purring, and even Rossi has to admit that it’s goddamn adorable.

“What kind of drum is that?” Hotch asks Sam, who grins.

“Pearl.”

“Pearl!” Morgan echoes delightedly. “Who’s the prettiest little black pearl, hmm?”

“I guess we need to find a pet store,” Rossi sighs, and settles in to get to know his grand-kitten.

***

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 7: Atlanta, GA

“Wheels up in fifteen,” Hotch is shouting, banging on the hotel room door. JJ groans without opening her eyes and tries to pull Emily closer, rubbing her cheek against the soft worn cotton of Emily’s shirt.

“What the fuck,” Emily mumbles.

“Oh, seriously, what the fuck,” comes Penelope’s voice. The fact that it’s coming from somewhere above JJ is what makes her frown and open her eyes.

She and Emily are on the floor, lying in a sort of nest, which upon closer inspection seems to be made up of an inflatable kiddie pool filled with blankets.

Penelope is peering over the edge of her bed at them, squinting blearily, last night’s hot pink lipstick smeared down her chin. She appears to be wearing a plastic coconut bra over her shirt.

“Huh,” JJ says. She pulls a lei off her neck. “Did we throw a tiki party last night?”

“That would seem to be the case,” Emily says slowly. She rolls over and wraps her arms around JJ. “Five more minutes.”

“Solid plan,” JJ answers, snuggling in. The kiddie pool is surprisingly comfortable.

“Not if we have to pack up and get our sorry asses on the bus in fifteen minutes,” Penelope reminds them.

“Fuck.”

“I smell like… like daiquiris and regret,” Penelope sighs. She wrestles the coconut bra off and flings it across the room.

“You can have first shower,” Emily says generously.

JJ hears Penelope pad across the floor, and then there’s a surprised yelp from the bathroom.

“Is Spencer in the tub again?” JJ mutters.

“Yes, but oh my god, you guys, you need to come see this,” Penelope says, giggling. JJ groans, head spinning, but manages to get up. She hauls Emily to her feet.

JJ pokes her head through the bathroom door and snorts. Spencer’s wearing one of those cheap fake grass skirts over his jeans and there’s a top hat perched on his head. He’s got his arms wrapped around a tacky pink flamingo lawn ornament.

“Em, get your—”

“On it,” Emily says, already reappearing with her phone to snap a picture.

Spencer stirs with a pathetic sort of whining noise.

“Next time I suggest coconut rum,” he slurs, without opening his eyes, “...remind me I’m a moron, ‘kay?”

***

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 10: near Dallas, TX

“Get your hooves out of the toaster!” Cas says urgently. Dean starts awake and almost falls out of the bunk. He really needs to give up trying to sleep with Cas on the bus; these things were not meant for two people.

Cas mumbles something about Mufasa and opens his eyes groggily.

“Fun dreams?” Dean asks, voice raspy with sleep. He cuddles close and presses a kiss to Cas’s pulse.

“There were wildebeests in the kitchen,” Cas croaks.

“Sounds like a good time. Coffee?”

“Mmm.”

Dean rolls out of the bunk and stretches. The door to the back lounge is open, and he can hear music; he looks inside curiously.

He remembers Sam saying something about a Doctor Who marathon. Geek.

The DVD menu is up on the little flat-screen, playing the theme music in a loop. Sam’s sprawled out on one of the couches with popcorn in his hair, and Penelope and Charlie are leaning against each other on the other couch.

Someone snores loudly, but it doesn’t seem to be any of those three. Dean looks around, momentarily confused, until he spots Spencer, who has wedged himself under the tiny table. He’s curled up with what looks like Charlie’s favorite purple hoodie as a pillow, and Pearl is kneading happily at one of his arms.

“Time’s it?” Sam asks quietly. He sits up, and something pops audibly as he stretches his shoulders.

“Coffee time,” Dean whispers back.

He wants to make a snarky quip about how they’ve clearly been partying hard, but Sammy’s looking around the room with such a fond little smile on his face that Dean can’t bring himself to say anything. Instead, he just leads the way through the bunk area, out to the front, where Cas is watching the coffee drip slowly into the pot.

Dean wraps his arms around Cas and nuzzles into his neck. It’s a good morning.

***

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 14: Chula Vista, CA

Penelope is just about to get up for a gloriously self-indulgent shower (and if she uses all the hot water while the others are hitting snooze, that’s fully their problem) when there’s a knock on the door.

She peers through the peephole. It’s Dean, aka not at all who she expected.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he says gruffly, when she opens the door. “Um… Spencer said he knows how to pick locks?”

Ooh, this is gonna be fun.

“He sure does. What’s up?”

“Um… we need to pick a lock,” Dean tries, and Penelope laughs.

“Nice try. Gimme the dirty deets.”

Dean sighs. “Jack is maybe handcuffed to the bed.”

“No way,” Penelope says gleefully. “Okay, I will wake the boy wonder, hang on.”

She ushers Dean into their room, shushing him and pointing to JJ and Emily, who are still asleep, before poking Spencer.

“Are you sleeping in a kiddie pool?” Dean asks.

“Mmph,” Spencer assents, rubbing his eyes. “M’comfy.”

Penelope shrugs at Dean as if to say, what can you do?

“So there is a bit of a situation I was hoping you could help with,” Dean says. “A lock picking situation? It’s, um, a pair of handcuffs.”

Spencer doesn’t bat an eye, bless his heart. He just shrugs and unfolds himself from the kiddie pool, picking up his wallet from the desk.

Penelope grabs a robe and her glasses, because while she wouldn’t ordinarily show her face while she’s still in pajamas, there’s no way in hell she’s missing this. Dean looks like he’s about to protest.

“She’s my emotional support cyberterrorist,” Spencer tells him. “She’s coming.”

“Excuse you, former cyberterrorist,” Penelope says, as dignified as she can manage while wearing a fuzzy zebra-patterned robe. “I prefer to think of myself as your fairy godmother.”

“No teasing him,” Dean says sternly, but leads the way out the door.

“You really trying to tell me you found the kid handcuffed to a bed and nobody is going to tease him about it?”

“Well,” Dean amends, with a smug grin. “Nobody but his family is allowed to tease him. Don’t worry, though, we took pictures.”

“Yeah, okay. That seems fair.”

Dean leads the way into the Ceiling Fires’ suite and points them to one of the bedrooms.

Penelope can hear Sam’s voice when they get to the open door: “I told you, they’re single-latch. You pull on those the wrong way, they’ll cut off your circulation and — oh, hey, guys.”

Not only are they handcuffs, they’re handcuffs adorned with pink fluff. They’ve pulled a blanket up to Jack’s chest, but he’s clearly naked under it, and he’s blushing so hard he basically matches the handcuffs.

“Good morning,” he says politely.

Penelope gives him a cheerful wave. “Don’t mind me. Spencer’s here to rescue you.”

Spencer is unfazed. He pulls a tiny flat case from inside his wallet and pulls out a couple picks. Sam and Dean are both watching him like hawks. Mother hens. Overprotective mother hawks? Something like that.

It barely takes a second before the lock clicks open.

Jack breathes a sigh of relief and rubs his wrists. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“You gotta teach me that,” Sam says to Spencer. He grabs the handcuffs and lifts them between two fingers like they’ve personally offended him.

“It’s easy once you understand the principle of it,” Spencer tells him, showing him the picks. “See, this pushes the tumbler—”

“Where’d you go?” comes a low British voice from the main room, and then Harry motherfucking Styles is wandering through the door, wearing a turquoise silk kimono and holding a half-eaten slice of watermelon. “What on Earth are you doing with those? I have my leather — oh.” He looks from Penelope to Spencer, blinking. “I… don’t know you, do I?”

“Shit,” Dean mutters. “When did you get here?”

“Wee hours.” He takes a bite of watermelon, tongue-first, and chews slowly.

Penelope is staring. She should really stop staring and say something cool.

“You look sorta familiar,” Spencer offers, with a little wave. “Did you sell me E at a warehouse party in Boston a couple years ago? Cause I gotta say, that was a weird night.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t me,” he says pensively. “But stranger things have happened.”

Harry goddamn Styles is licking juice off his fingers and dimpling in her general direction and this cannot be real life.

“The watermelon is a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Penelope blurts out. Sam snorts from somewhere behind her.

“They were all out of kiwis, I’m afraid,” Harry drawls. “You want some? More in the kitchen. Bananas, too, and—”

“Hey, guys?” Jack interrupts, from where he’s got the covers pulled up to his chin. “Um… would you mind taking this outside so I can put some clothes on?”

There’s a chorus of apologies. Spencer asks about coffee as they all start to filter out the door, and Penelope heads to the kitchen to eat watermelon with Harry Styles, because apparently this is her life now.

#supernatural #criminal minds #spn x cm #crossover #cm fic #supernatural fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

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mcu xover: jar of hearts 3/?

Oh yes, my MCU x Twilight crossover is still happening.

And this chapter may even reference the MCU directly. SHOCKING.

Seriously, I’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve been writing a lot, across a lot of different fics and this one slid to the back of the queue. Also, I wrote myself into a corner and needed to get out again.

And yes, we’re inching closer to joining up the MCU. These things take time, but it’ll happen.

part two here

roadtrip.

They’re almost in Arizona when Charlie calls to find out where the fuck Seth Clearwater is, because apparently he’s been tangling up his story all over town - he’s told anyone on the Res who asks that he’s staying with Charlie. He’s told Charlie that he’s staying with Colin or Brady.

Alice scowls at Seth through the rearview mirror and begins to weave a tale of being told Seth had permission to join them to go see their cousins - in between lecturing Seth about setting them up for a kidnapping charge across state lines.

By the end of the conversation, Charlie’s trying not to snigger at Alice’s increasingly indignant rant at Seth, at law breaking in general, and at fucking son-of-a-bitch moron drivers, sweet Jesus. Emmett and Seth are howling at Alice’s cussing and even Charlie is a little bit shocked at her language (later, when the boys are picking on her about it, she rolls her eyes, looks over the top of her heart-shaped sunglasses, and reminds them both - quite primly - that she married a goddamned soldier.)

Seth’s favourite part of the whole ordeal is that Alice isn’t even driving.

But Charlie clears Seth accompanying them, so that’s one less problem. Of course, it means his Jeep stinks of human food, and that they have to stop, but they still make good time up to Alaska.

It’s a hard drive to make - closer to the cities and urban, abandoned cars have been moved off the road. But in the rural areas, cars are still scattered, seemingly abandoned or crashed. Most of the bodies have been removed, thankfully. But still, only most. And it’s been weeks - months - since it happened, so those bodies aren’t in good condition.

And not all of them are adults.

They start out burying the people they find (well, Emmett and Alice do - they both insist Seth stay in the damn car), but then only the children.

Then they just stop because they are both tired of handling rotting bodies who never should have died, let alone forgotten on the side of a long, empty stretch of highway. The graves they’ve already dug haven’t got markers or anything. Just a hole on the side of the road.

It doesn’t feel like enough.

The house in Denali feels wrong before they even get out of the car. The house has always had a sense of otherness, thanks to the fact that it’s the permanent residence of immortals. But right now, it feels more forgotten, lesser in a way.

Tanya’s walking out the front door the second the car pulls up, and she looks old. Tired and strained, and she walks straight into the hug Alice offers.

Seth gapes at the house - the enormous glass-and-wood lodge, tucked carefully in the wilderness where it is mostly forgotten. It might be on a map somewhere, might be noted down in some database, but it is mostly overlooked, a sanctuary in the middle of nowhere.

There’s not really much for them to say or do in Alaska, Emmett realises; Carmen and Tanya are more than capable enough to manage on their own.

Except… Carmen looks like a ghost. She looks disorientated and disinterested, and there’s a part of Emmett that is cold and dead that is perversely fascinated with all the different ways there are to fall apart after the loss of a mate. He’s walking around like a hollowed-out old man, Alice is… not quite there, a little unbalanced.

Sometimes he wonders if Rosalie should have stayed, should have taken his place instead. He would have given it to her, without question. Rose only deserved good things, easy things.

But then he wonders. If living through it all really was easy or good. It doesn’t feel like it, most days. It’s a heavy weight in his chest and a constant feeling of leaving something behind (he’s got one of her hair ties around his wrist; it’s dumb but he always had one on him just in case - at school, when they went hunting, everywhere; he’s also got one of her shirts in his bag. It won’t smell right, being crammed in with his stuff, but he brought it anyway).

Rose wouldn’t have been happy in this world. She wouldn’t have known what to do with Alice or Seth. She would have been angry at the disruption to her life. She would have been afraid and lonely and lashed out at everyone.

No, not good and easy at all.

Then he wonders how Jasper would have faired, without Alice, and that is a grim, grizzly train of thought. Thanos would have begged for death, if Alice had been taken and Jasper left behind. He’s only ever seen a glimpse of the monster behind the man over the decades since Jasper and Alice joined the family, and it’s enough to think that perhaps nature intervened and tried to protect everyone from what Jasper would become without Alice.

They stay in Alaska for two days; Tanya and Carmen are ill-at-ease with Seth, even after they explain who he is.

“But,” Tanya had frowned, “why is he with you?”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

Because Seth was… he was Other, like the Cullens. He understood what it was like to be special and expect to be strong enough to survive and to save; to be beyond the reach of petty mortal shit. He was a fucking kid, who’d lost his family, his friends, and most of his community. Fuck, at this rate, he’d lost his childhood too. He was the natural leader of what remained of the pack, and he’d done something fairly smart - looked for adult guidance.

A shame that the only thing he could find in its place was him and Alice. If someone had ranked his family by ‘best choice to care for a teenage boy’ he, Alice, and Jasper would have been dead last. Edward would have ranked higher.

(It still feels weird to think or talk about Alice without adding ‘and Jasper’. Like he’s mispronouncing a word.)

But it is what it is, and Seth’s still clocking more hours doing online school than online games on the laptop Alice gave him, plus there’s a bunch of food in the back of the Jeep, so they aren’t failing too badly.

Seth turns red when Tanya smiles at him, and Alice banishes him to a guest room, loudly forbidding any imprinting for the next decade, and that just means Emmett has to explain imprinting to Carmen and Tanya, and Alice has to read the riot act to Tanya about not flirting with the fourteen-year-old boy upstairs and it almost feels like old times.

They go hunting whilst Seth is asleep, and it’s obvious that nothing is the same. So much of the forest surrounding the house is just… gone. Empty, as if there was never trees looming over them, underbrush to push through. There are less animals to track and hunt, no excuse to be picky.

It was probably the same around Forks, truthfully, except there was that cloud of grief and horror surrounding him and Alice when they hunted - that was where Edward stumbled and fell. That was where Jasper couldn’t run any longer.

That was where he heard Alice scream when Rosie disintegrated.

In the harsh light of day, the situation feels much bleaker, much bigger outside of the insular forests of the Olympic Peninsula.

They don’t see a single bear.

He’s not entirely sure why they’ve come to Alaska, except he sees Carmen and Alice go off together, finds them sitting quietly together talking. On one hand, he wishes that he could sit with them; that he lost Rose just like they lost Jasper and Eleazer, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to be a part of that particular club. Doesn’t have words left to comfort Carmen. Most of his platitudes have started sounding hollow.

Alice vanishes one morning, and leaves him to help Seth with school work, and he grimly realises they have nearly four more years of this until Seth graduates. But things will be different before then; they’ll be back in Forks and Seth can ask paid professionals to explain algebra to him.

When Alice returns, it’s time to go - she’s been off in the wilderness, trying to See around Seth, and deciding to go off on her own is, apparently, the best way.

“Call us if you need anything,” Tanya says, pulling all three of them into crushing hugs, and if Seth turns red and tries to look down Tanya’s top, Alice pretends not to notice.

“Where are you headed next?” Carmen asks, as Seth climbs in the back, clutching an energy drink they’re all going to regret.

Alice smiles. But it’s the wrong kind of smile; it’s sharp and sinister and looks wrong on her face. A Cheshire Cat smile, a Joker smile, and Emmett wonders if after all these years together, if Jasper’s reactive violence hasn’t bled into his wife a little.

“We’re going to Mexico.”

—

The trip to Mexico can be described as long.

If the Jeep wasn’t Rosalie’s last gift to him, then they probably could have run there faster, even with Seth in tow. But there won’t be anymore perfectly modified cars ever again, so he’s staying with the Jeep.

Alice gives up the passenger seat once they make it through to Alberta, apologetic that Seth’s been crammed in the backseat. But then Alice starts muttering to herself, tapping away on her phone, and seems distracted and irritated when Emmett tries to get her attention.

He can’t make out what she’s saying at all, it’s just an irregular hum, and he wonders if she’s having more of her one-sided conversations with Jasper.

The trip takes a week, winding through landlocked states. It shouldn’t take so long except everything is in chaos; they lose an entire afternoon carefully shifting some abandoned cars off the road to get the Jeep through in the middle of backwoods Montana. They spend hours waiting for gas every time they stop. And Seth might be a mystical shapeshifter, but he needs a proper bed, and hot food, and human moments; they have varying success at finding all three, but they try, and Seth is nothing if not agreeable and grateful for even the smallest attempt at making him comfortable.

They find an abandoned farm in Wyoming and they let Seth transform and run for a few hours at dusk, sitting on the front of the Jeep in silence until it’s dark enough for them to hunt, as well.

It feels like the world has ended, some days, and they are the only ones left - to him, at least. Maybe that’s why Alice is talking to herself - it’s the only sensible answer she’ll get.

Some towns are empty; no one for miles. The information that filters through the internet mentions people heading to the cities, to the larger towns, because the population is too small to keep so many different settlements functioning. There’s no money or survival if you’ve lost your entire farm, if the hospital or the school is unmanned.

And Emmett wonders if he’s been cured of human blood for good now he’s seen so much of it spilt, stale and rotting, on the backroads of the country. It feels like everything smells just a little bit like decomposition right now. He’s not sure if that’s him or if that’s everything.

And they get closer to Mexico.

—

They arrive just as the day turns to night, and he expects… he’s not sure what he expects, honestly. Maybe setting up in the motel they’ve found, that Alice has declared a safe distance from any of Maria’s plotting, and getting Seth some fresh food - he hasn’t complained, but even Emmett’s tired of the pre-packaged, long-life crap.

Instead, Alice slips from the car, clad in jeans and a leather jacket, tucking her phone in her back pocket.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” she says, like she’s going alone.

“What?” Seth looks suspiciously at the pair of them, and it’s only later that he realises the kid is terrified of being left behind. That he’ll cling to their belt loops with his dying breath. His mom left, his sister left, his friends and pack left, and he took a chance on leaving everything else that was left to stick with them.

That makes Emmett feel guilty for no reason he can name.

“I can’t see with you around me,” Alice says gently. “It’s a simple clean-up job, it won’t take long.”

Seth frowns and looks at Emmett.

“You aren’t doing this alone, Alice. Even if we wait in the car,” he says with finality. This isn’t going to be an argument, because there’s nothing to argue about. He’s not letting Alice roam around in a city full of uncontrolled newborns, no matter how talented she is.

Alice scowls. “I know what I’m doing, Emmett,” her voice is sharp, and she never likes reminding them of how long she was alone before she found Jasper; what the family knows about those years is quite vague and patchwork - as far as Alice is concerned, nothing important happened before she met Jasper, as if she popped into being on a diner stool just in time.

Rose always suspected Alice’s real story was very lonely, very frightening, but no one asks when she so obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. He knows what it costs for her to bring it up now.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting my only sister go newborn hunting alone,” Emmett says, and Alice sighs and nods - her visions have gone dark, obviously this is not a battle she can win.

Emmett ends up wishing that he and Seth had stayed behind.

Alice is like a laser, zeroing on her targets with a single-minded intensity. He hears that hum faintly, of her talking to herself and he wants to ask her what she’s saying, what thoughts are so important she needs to say them almost out loud but he doesn’t get a chance.

The first one of Maria’s abandoned acolytes is a girl around seventeen with matted black hair and a dress that Emmett mistakes for some kind of lace at first, except it’s the remnants of dozens of meals dried across the front of her, ripples of dried, stale blood that have solidified into a repulsive black and red mass.

She snarls at them, her face bloody, and the pale form of a man beneath her. Alice just walks up to her and backhands her with a crack that makes Seth jump; Emmett flinches but he’d never admit it.

The newborn snaps at Alice, and in one movement, the girl is pinned to the brick wall behind them, cracks spiralling up her neck from Alice’s tight grip.

“Who the hell are you?” the girl snaps in Spanish and Alice says nothing, just rips her head off by her neck, the screech sounding deafening so close. Moments later, her body is in pieces in a dumpster, along with her victim, and Alice has set the entire thing alight, her face blank.

Emmett makes a decision then, to leave Seth in a brightly lit burger place with a promise he’ll be back in one hour because this is nothing a kid should see.

And he’s so, so glad that he made that choice. Alice’s hunt is something that will be burned into his brain for the rest of his life.

The next newborn is a middle-aged male who reminds Emmett of his English lit teacher back at Forks, right down to the salt and pepper streaks in his hair and the slightly off-centre nose. He’s the worst of the night, Emmett silently decides, as he guards his hunt - a family of five that he’s only half-finished. The father is extremely, viscerally dead and there’s no putting him back together; the mother is choking and struggling for a breath that her torn throat will never give her as she bleeds out; the baby in her arms is long dead with its head taken up by a gaping wound. There are two young girls, clinging to each other in terror, and there is no way this ends well.

The newborn obviously thinks Emmett is more of a threat than petite little Alice, practically frothing at the mouth as Emmett approaches him, and grabs at one of the children. It all happens in seconds - the girls scream, there is a crunch of bone and more screaming, the rich scent of fresh blood, another crunch of bone and muscle, and then the newborn’s head is half-torn away before Alice can get better leverage and finish the job. The dead child dangles from his grip, bent the wrong way; her sister has her head half caved in, and the mother still chokes on her own blood. It all happens so fast.

He should have stayed with Seth.

He lets Alice handle the rest of them - she’s located six of Maria’s surviving nine, and after the family, she takes them down swiftly and wordlessly, just a diminutive blur and the sound of tearing metal.

The sweet smoke clings to them as they make their way back to Seth, Alice’s head down.

“I thought,” she began and just shook her head. And he reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

She thought it would be closure, would feel like an ending or an achievement. That there would be some peace in ending Maria’s life’s work. Instead, she’s just the same, but with blood on her boots and a tear in her jeans. The newborns barely got an opportunity to fight back, to give her the pound of flesh she was looking for.

Seth is waiting for them in the window of the store, a broad grin on his face when he spots them. Back to the motel for the night, now. And then tomorrow…

“So,” he says finally. “What now?”

#twilight fic #alice cullen #emmett cullen #seth clearweater #mcu crossover #my fic: jar of hearts #marvel #mcu fic #why yes we did need a twilight x mcu crossover #it felt necessary

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torishasupremacy · 3 years

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doin that ck ask thingie that’s been going around!

It's the year 2021 and you're obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?

I’m just vibing. Excited for the summer because I’m too busy and stressed with school stuff atm to dedicate any time/energy toward it but I want to get back to writing fics when I have more free time.

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?

Hmm, I remember vaguely watching the first movie when I was younger but I think it was before I started doing karate (when I was 8) so it didn’t really stick with me. Remembered nothing when I first started watching Cobra Kai. So I guess I’m new?

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character:

It’s sooo hard to choose between my main five (Miguel, Sam, Aisha, Robby, and Tory) but I gotta say Aisha with the other four tying for second.

Favorite ship:

Big torisha fan!! Legitimately thought Tory’s introduction was for Aisha to have a girlfriend, very bummed when that wasn't the case :(

Underrated character:

AISHA ROBINSONNNNNNNN

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol):

Kiaz, mostly saying this because I created the ship name and I don’t consider myself very active or popular. I’m honestly surprised it stuck, but grateful, as it feels nice to have made a little bit of an impact on the fandom.

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?

As someone who’s actually been taught leg sweeps, they’ve much more fun and twirly than blocking (except when you have to actually do them on someone) but they’re not as easy.

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?

I think he has a lot of great looks in TKK but all his Cobra Kai looks are bland af and I can’t remember any of them.

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver:

No one, mostly because I think returns can be very hit or miss, like with Ali the chemistry and acting was amazing but Johnny lowkey cheating on Carmen was not it. If it’s not the unhinged energy of Terry Silver then I’d like them to keep developing current characters.

Scene that lives in your head rent-free:

The end of Robby and Miguel’s match in the All-Valley where Johnny is looking back at Robby and Daniel and then Miguel pulls him away to celebrate. God I love that episode.

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?

Only if he teams up with Terry Silver and makes Daniel have a heart attack.

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war. Which dojo do you join?

Cobra Kai. Miyagi Do has to train on grass with shoes which I hate hate hate for karate. Put me in a dojo barefoot and give me someone to spar with any day of the week. This is probably influenced by how I haven’t been able to train indoors or spar for over a year but I don’t care I miss it so much. Weirdly enough, I feel like Johnny would respect me more than Daniel after some time.

What’s your training montage song?

This is pretty weird, but Almost There from the Princess and the Frog soundtrack. I always feel like I’m working up to something but not there yet.

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?

I think there would be soooo many hijinks if Cobra Kai got crossed with Community, and I’m not just saying this because I’ve been recently obsessed with Community. Okay, I am, but seriously, imagine Jeff trying to deal with Johnny? Shirley facing with her moral stance on fighting in the middle of a karate war? Britta bonding with Yaya and Troy and Abed assigning themselves as a very confused Miguel’s honorary older brothers. Annie chilling with Sam and Aisha and Tory beating up Pierce. I think the Dean and Daniel could have some really funny scenes. Robby would watch all this go down, baffled. It’s the All Valley mixed with paintball. So much could happen. I think Chang could take down Kreese if he wanted to.

that was fun!! tagging anybody who wants to do it!!

#cobra kai

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mavspeed · 3 years

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First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Hey @applesfallingfromblondehair, thanks for the tag love!! likewise i dont usually do this but this feels interesting so lets see if my ass has improved over the last few stories lmfkjgjk

also this will prob be a mix of xmcu fic + kingsman fic bc i think i have a more or less equal number of fics written for both

The first time Charles meets Lucifer Morningstar, actual devil from hell, ruler of the underworld, fallen son of the lord above and god knows what else, it had been after Erik had been sentenced to life imprisonment in the highest security cell in the Pentagon.

- this is from a professor and a devil walk into a bar, which is kinda a crossover rarepair fic that rose out of me and mutuals on twitter discussing tom ellis and james mcavoy being roommates and kinda... devolved from there. i am proud of this one lmfnjgkj

“Are you okay, Professor?” Hank asks quietly.

Charles blinks. He supposes it’s a valid question. He’s been in a bit of a funk the past few days- scratch that actually, the past few years. He’s just lost so much- his father, and then his mother’s love, and then Raven and Erik and Sean and countless others. Building a school, gaining students he loved to teach and nurture hadn’t helped him in the slightest, and he’s as lost as he ever was, wandering the halls of a drafty mansion alone, feeling like he’s been stranded at sea even whilst surrounded by people.

- from in the belly of the beast, which again came out of me wondering what would have happened if fox had gone w their original plan and charles had been that last horseman instead of erik. this story will prob gain a sequel... sometime in the near future when im not too bogged down by current wips

The Xavier family hall of the deceased- because of course they’re weird enough to have a cemetery- is full of rows upon rows of holograms. Charles is four and gets bored of his father crying over his mother’s hologram, so he toddles over to the other rows. Unfamiliar names, all of them- Charles is young, and he doesn’t understand death. He doesn’t even know who his mother is, who’d died at childbirth and left him with a father still at a loss when it came to bringing up a kid.

- from tequila on a spaceship, the sequel to a fic that still has some people angry at me i think. this fic never did gain as much traction as the first one but im still proud of it esp since it discusses certain themes of reincarnation that ive always wanted to see explored for myself in reincarnation aus (and i only ever saw it in danveresque’s reincarnation au)

There are cork boards covering every inch of the wall. Red strings, photographs, conspiracy threads, everything. Raven takes it in, swallowing, noticing the picture in the middle.

It’s one of Charles, when he’d been in university. His final year- he'd just been done presenting his year- end project, his fringe a tumbled mess and a bright smile on his lips. Erik had taken the picture, Charles scurrying to his side once he’d been done and demanding to look at the image, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. He looks like how Raven had always imagined him to be.

“He wouldn’t want this,” she finally says, turning to look at Erik.

- from tequila on a beach, the first fic to the fic above. this fic is v special to me because i actually wrote this on a spiral after having a very tough visit with one of my parents in the hospital after a surgery for organ removal to prevent the onset of cancer. its simpler than my other fics yet i think more powerful because of what happens. also i think the first time i killed charles off lol (spoiler alert). also idk if ppl were aware of this but this is called tequila on a beach precisely bc charles and erik were tipsy from tequila at a frat party and then went to a beach. its the way they first met (and will continue to meet for all their next lives)

Erik doesn’t know how it all started. Maybe it was when his insane sergeant had started rambling about imaginary cities, treasures of gold and cursed incantations. Maybe it was when trickles of rumours had started pouring down about the higher ups wanting to investigate unfound territory, disregard the Egyptian government’s feelings on the matter, and put a previously unfound myth on the map for all the world to see. Or maybe, Erik thinks, it was when archaeologist Klaus Schmidt put a bullet through his mother’s head and he ended up going to America armed with dual citizenship and the sole intent of wanting to drive a coin directly between Schmidt’s eyes, joining a division of the American military focused solely on guarding archaeological digs- more importantly, in Egypt, where Schmidt’s interest had shifted.

- from courting the end of the world, another one i’m just insanely proud of! this is the first time i’ve ever attempted a multichapter movie au and it actually managed to work pretty well, i at least haven’t run out of inspiration for it yet lmfjgjg. also erik as himbo rick connell... very rent free in my head

The day after they murder Shaw and leave his house of horrors, Erik crosses the Canadian border with Charles across his back. Charles had started getting tired while they’d been walking, stumbling and nearly tripping until Erik had forced him to get on his back, ignoring Charles’ protests.

The blood’s seeping out steadily from Charles’ nose, staining his shirt and soaking it through. It’s been leaking on and off, and the effects are already obvious in the dark circles beneath Charles’ eyes. Any more, and Erik knows they’ll have to find him a doctor. He hopes the nearest town in Canada has one that would be willing to treat them.

- from a world built for two. i actually dk where the inspiration for this came from, i think i was once again on a depressive spiral and wanted to break my comfort characters into pieces and put them together again. this also deals with codependency and unhealthy coping mechanisms as a result of trauma which i showed as sweet in the fic but i would def not recommend in real life. pls if u relate to either charles or erik in this go see a therapist

The call comes in the afternoon, an hour before Charles is supposed to teach his Intro to Genetics class. Frowning, Charles abandons the game of Candy Crush he’d admittedly been playing rather badly and picks it up. “Charles sp-”

“We need you, Prof,” Kitty says desperately into the phone. “He’s been in a temper all morning, and then Alex’s reports missed out a whole subsection, so he’s fired the entire marketing team! Please, Professor, you have to come immediately!”

- from and we can be pirates. i wrote this in like 4 seconds for my friend who wanted professor charles and ceo erik and actually did not expect this to gain the attention it did... its always the fics u write in like 4 seconds lmfjggj. a sequel for this Is coming too probably at some point in the very far future

Charles Xavier can admit as he sits across from Essex, hands cuffed to the desk, that in hindsight, this had perhaps not been one of his better ideas.

He refuses to admit it as he controls Erik’s mind, preventing him from lashing out and making him close his eyes to the nightmare unfolding in front of him. He refuses to admit it as he gets shoved into the back of a black pickup truck, and the butt of a gun is smashed across his forehead hard enough to knock him out cold for a few hours. He refuses to admit it when he wakes up what appears to be hours later in a cold interrogation room, hands cuffed to the table in front of him, with a suppression collar rendering his mind dark and almost achingly silent.

- from from the land of gods (bring me home). i’ve been struggling w this fic a lot (it didnt come as easily to me as the first one did) but its getting there. also i put charles through hell in this rip sorry mister xavier

In the aftermath, both of them stand at the border of the mansion. The air feels frigid, slicing into Raven’s lungs like a thousand paper cuts. “Charles, please,” she begs, heart in her throat and voice hoarse. “He wouldn’t want you to be like this. He wouldn’t want you to do this. It’s not too late, you can come back.”

Charles gazes back, a brick wall. He hasn’t even cleaned up, still in that damnable yellow and blue suit with blood drying in the corners of his mouth, the bridge of his nose. There’s nothing in his eyes- blank, almost see through. He looks as if he’s a mere shade, a ghost lounging about where he once was. Raven knows better.

“I will raze the world to the ground,” he finally says, his voice free of any inflection, “and when I’m done, no one will be left standing. Not you, and certainly not me.”

- from where all the poets went to die, a dark fic based on what would have happened if moira had killed erik with the bullets. its the first time ive written dark charles and it was v fun if im being honest

10.

Charles is a light sleeper. It’s a trait that stays with him- all the way from his father and the tests to taking care of his mother to Cain Marko and his fists to Cuba and then now, the dust of Washington settling over him and making the waking world lie an inch beyond his eyelids. It therefore stands to reason that the second the windowsill creaks he’s up in a shot, hoisting himself up and lashing out with his telepathy instantly.

That’s not a trait that had stayed with him. That’s a newly formed trait, bitter and bold, carved into existence by Cuba by his students disappearing one by one in Vietnam by the letters that announce Sean’s death in black unfriendly print by-

The tendrils of his telepathy forged cold and distant meet a barrier and recoil, stunned. He focuses his eyes and then widens them, staring at Erik who stares back, hidden beneath that infernal muddied magenta helmet of his. They stare at each other for a moment before Erik clears his throat.

- from in the valley of kings (you will come home). my first ever cherik fic! im actually also proud of this one even if i ended it horribly and half my mutuals refuse to read it bc of how it ended LMFJGJGJ. i cant believe this was supposed to be a funny and cute kid fic and then i turned it into an angst ridden mess. also leo is actually an oc whose adult version is fancasted as charlie rowe by me and another mutual on twitter and im v proud that readers are willing to die for the baby

11.

Mike has to google it, finding a crafts shop nestled into the corner of the street right smack in the middle of Louisiana, past a long and winding dirt road and the crumbling farmhouses relics of a time long past. The air is hot, humid, sticking to the back of his neck like an unwieldy parasite as he pushes the door of the shop open to the sound of the bell tinkling above.

He finds the origami paper quickly enough and has a momentary breakdown about what Bill’s favourite colour even is- he had never thought to ask him. Twenty seven years of following every single footstep of his like a dedicated, most definitely creepy stalker, three months of more than a few states traversed with Bill’s laughter now echoing in his ears like a shadow that trails after him, and this is what stumps him. It takes ten minutes, but he finally settles on light green.

- my first and last entry into the IT fandom bc i love these two but to be very fair there isn’t much content out there for him (and twitter content actually intimidates me lmfjgjjg) a thousand paper cranes never got much traction either but i suspect its bc i was horrible at promoting it. also i very much love this fic even if it never did that well bc ive always wanted to write a fic like this after watching the movie in cinemas in 2019

12.

ok nsfw i guess

Mornings start like this- Eggsy snuffling into David’s neck, attempting to work his way back up to wakefulness as David sleeps the sleep of the dead, the streams of morning sunlight gradually lightening up the room. It’s a while before he gets the energy to sit up, pushing an eager V off the bed- V for Vendetta, a kitten named after one of David’s favourite movies that they’d adopted about a month after moving in together- before stumbling to the loo. He’s already in the shower when David comes in, naked as the day he’s born with his arms entwining themselves around Eggsy’s waist as he murmurs a sleep-soft, “Good morning, love,” as he presses a kiss into the two-days-old hickey on Eggsy’s shoulder. His breath smells of toothpaste, the minty fresh kind he insists on buying from Target no matter how much Eggsy insists that the other brand is much better. Without fail, Eggsy always has a split second thought of thinking that he must truly be in heaven because no way can this be his reality, every single day, before sinking to his knees and allowing David’s cock to hit the back of his throat.

- from that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of. i genuinely wish i had an opinion for this but i don’t remember writing this its been way too long

13.

The first time Eggsy sees her is in Trafalgar Square.

Trafalgar Square is uncomfortably packed on any normal day, but on New Year’s it is quite the hothouse. Sweating armpits and hot bodies plastered against each other, the twinkling lights overhead providing a flash of blue and green and yellow and red, screaming children and giggling teenagers shoving their way through- it’s a recipe for disaster. Eggsy doesn’t know how he ends up there. It happens sometimes- one second he blinks, sequestered in the comfort of his living room, and the next he’s somewhere else, as if he’s been teleported. “Life goes past you,” Tilde had said once, “and you don’t even notice.” Tilde would be right.

- this is a roxy and eggsy friendship centric fic that i abandoned bc i lost my ardor for this world about the same time i got into xmen lmfjgjg. all the king’s horses also had some great fancasts in it with dev patel fancasted too... rip ig

14.

once again, nsfw

Eggsy, truth be told, doesn’t actually like having sex in bathrooms. First of all, bathrooms generally have an unsanitary air about them. Besides that, the granite of the sinks always feel cold against his hips, there is the ever present fear of being walked in on and unlike what people might say, he actually really isn’t that much of an exhibitionist- and truth be told, he’s never liked the look of himself in the mirror mid coitus.

For David Budd, however, he suspects he might be up for anything.

- from do you ever dream of me. im actually proud of this fic and this series, i never usually write straight up porn or friends w benefits and i think it worked well in here. once again didnt get much traction but that was very of the norm for my kingsman fics lmfjgj

15.

It is on his fifth meeting with the therapist on site that she brings the issue up. The elephant in the room- or the bomb , David thinks morbidly. If asked, he can’t remember specifics about that day now. All he remembers is this- the burn of Julia’s picture in his wallet against his thigh, the Botticelli painting on the far wall and Miss Paulson’s face, severe and unsmiling.

“When you couldn’t reach Julia,” she says, after he finishes describing the feeling of running to Julia, the panic searing his chest as he’d prayed for his legs to work faster so he could do something, anything to reach her hand. “How did that make you feel?”

- from your haunted social scene. i genuinely... do not remember anything about this either helpfkjgjg,,, this has 55 comments tho which. Nice

16.

David brings her home on- in a move far too cliche for it to be reality- a stormy night. It’s in fact storming so hard the windowpanes shudder like leaves in the wind, droplets crashing against the glass in a cacophony so loud Eggsy more than once considers turning the radio all the way up to drown it out. He’d gone scrounging for David’s sweatshirts instead of his own halfway through, wincing intermittently at the flashes of thunder. At a particularly loud one JB had jumped up, squeaked in a very undoglike manner and skidded across the floor to cower beneath the sofa, only coming out when coaxed by Eggsy to do so. Officer Oatmeal had watched the proceedings from her regal place by the armchair, dozy eyed and blinking heavily.

- from a cat named lavender. from what i remember this was also my first try at bringing up trans eggsy

17.

He first appears at the black prince on a cold Monday evening, eyes like Frank Sinatra and lips arresting anyone’s gaze if they weren’t careful enough. He stood out too, clad in a respectable bomber jacket and boots that clicked against the tile rhythmically and loudly, a sort of organised, measured cacophony.

“Go and serve him,” Andrew said, fat and disinterested, seated behind the counter and idly flicking through bills, less than ten percent of which he pays Eggsy. “I’m busy.”

- from trust is left in lovers after all. i never continued this which is sad bc this did get a lot of attention... it was just v hard to keep the story going

18.

It usually rains cats and dogs in London but for some reason, the rain is heavier than usual today. The droplets splatter against the windows in a constant buzzing rhythm, the sound meshing together in a melody not altogether pleasant to the ears. It’s half past five and yet the light has to be kept on because that’s how dark the sky has gotten- thunder rolls like a loud crack, abrupt and deafening, causing Daisy to jump in her seat.

“Just a thunderstorm, flower,” Eggsy says. They’re seated at the dinner table, Eggsy going over her homework while David sits opposite them, hunched over his laptop as he attempts to finish a post mission report. Eggsy is half convinced he gave up ten minutes ago- he’s got his earbuds in and he hasn’t really typed anything in a while, eyes focused on the screen. His eyebrows are scrunched up in a glare that’s too adorable for his own good- and for Eggsy’s.

- from could feel like kryptonite. a lot of my kingsman fics are actually so much happier than my cherik ones... i should prob look into that rip

19.

“When you’re done lazing around you can come in, you dozy dog,” he tells Officer Oatmeal, who butts her nose into his knee. She’s the only one not on a diet in the house, Eggsy deeming her far too healthy and skinny to need one anyway. In fact, she’s under strict instructions by Eggsy to fatten up instead.

Once the animals are done feeding- Eggsy sporting a suspicious scratch on his left forearm- they settle down to eat their scrambled eggs and toast. David’s taken a large gulp of his scalding coffee when Eggsy says, all of a sudden, “So, I have a school reunion.”

- from gonna set this dance alight. don’t remember much about this either tbh

20. (the last one FINALLY)

It isn’t a big event or explosion that makes David realise he wants to see his father’s ring sitting pretty on Eggsy’s index finger. No teary confessions in the rain like in the rom coms Eggsy loves to rent out and sniffle his way through, or a fight that makes David see sense. In the end, it’s breakfast that cinches the deal for him.

The day had started out normally enough. David wakes up at eight like clockwork, the soft downy hair at the base of Eggsy’s neck tickling his nose with his arm locked tight around his waist. He’d yawned, exhausted- mostly because they’d stayed up very late into the night making good use of the bed- before standing up and shucking his shirt off to head for the shower. Eggsy had shifted in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and the sight had been too endearing to resist so he’d bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead and smiling when Eggsy groaned out loud.

- from lover boy rules. i actually started a lot of my kingsman fics in the same way which is rather awful of me. im glad thats changed with my xmen fics lmfjgjk. also this has 15 comments???? i dont even get that much attention with my xmcu fics these days... which is arguably a more active fandom... Hello

anyway that’s the end of it needless to say i do not know 10 other authors so im just gonna tag whoever i know rn: @hellfre , @queerneto, @ikeracity, @drinkingstars, @zebraljb

#whew this is super long i apologise #u can pinpoint the exact time i replaced taron with james as my number one boy #fic tag #fic meme

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vore-scientist · 4 years

Text

Demanding

[FLUFFY Safe, soft, willing, GT, non-romantic non-sexual M/f vore, fantasy setting. No additional warnings]

Proper Title Demanding: Yonah in Terra-Syor

Ok a little explanation is needed for this: IT'S NOT PART OF THE NORMAL MYSTIC WOODS. IT'S AN AU+ CROSSOVER SILLINESS

Been talking with @vixen525 (dA, tumblr) and we’ve been talking about fun crossovers with our worlds/characters and this came out of that!

To set you up: Yonah, for whatever reason it’s not important for this story, got transported to the dimension/world of TerraSyor (which belongs to @vixen525 ), but in the process suffered memory loss (bc I wanted to be cliche as fuck and it makes things so much fun!!!). Giants in TerraSyor are called Syors or Syorians which are two subspecies. Check their dA for more information. They are a LOT larger than Yonah. But anyways. That’s kinda the set up, other things you need to know are explained in the story.

---

Like last time we find ourselves in the office of the King of the Giants (who is away on a diplomatic mission) on the giant desk which had a smaller human sized desk on the upper right hand corner. Only this time it is night, or rather early evening. Though in this northern region, the sun had gone down over an hour ago; the Chief Political Advisor is sitting at her desk with mage lights hanging around her.

With King Connor away, Naomi tended to bury herself in her work. Because her best friend, the aforementioned King, is not there and while she misses him she has a lot of work to catch up on! King Connor tends to let it pile up. Often by keeping her from being able to do it thanks to his favorite way to enjoy her company. So while she missed her friend, she was not about to let this opportunity go to waste!

She would stay up for days to finish the paperwork! She had done so before even against the orders of the castle’s human physician for her to maintain a proper sleep schedule. As if she could sleep without Connor! And she was reluctant to ask one of the castle staff for assistance. Once or twice she’d gone to Lana, but the former Queen and interim King wasn’t someone Naomi liked to bother much even if she was available. Always more than happy to help, extremely sweet, but a little overbearing.

Thankfully her new guard was there to get her proper rest every night! Well. He tried. One all nighter he was willing to allow; he would force her to sleep should she try two in a row.

Tonight was such a night, however it would prove to be much more interesting.

Grunting as he glanced at his pocket watch tick into later evening he stood up and feeling a bit playful he reduced himself from 23.5ft to 7.5ft tall. Even at his full size he was more than small enough to sit comfortably on Connor's desk. Naomi didn’t notice him walking up until he was pulling the politician from her chair. She protested and held onto the desk and Yonah pretended to let her be strong enough to hold herself there.

“No! I need to finish reviewing this trade negotiation!” she sounded serious but there was a hint of playfulness.

“You can review it in the morning, you were up all last night! I know you miss Connor, that’s why I’m here!”

“I’m your boss, you’re paid to protect me!”

“I’m not technically paid and apparently I need to protect you from yourself. Also I need to sleep too! How can I protect you if I’m exhausted” He had tried to sleep last night, Naomi in his arms, powered by caffeine and hyper fixation, and armed with her portable desk, she did not waiver.

And he did manage to nap a few times. Not for more than an hour total. He was disinclined to sleep while she worked for several reasons. Mostly her safety even if this was the most secure room in the palace. Assassins had still gotten in before! And because once he woke up buried in paper. He was sure he’d inhaled a page at some point. Such suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Naomi got mad at him for it. And for his snoring.

So no more sleeping on the job!

Finally Yonah yanked her away from her desk, and ripped the paper from her hand. “I’ll give you one chance to change into PJs or you’re going down as is!” He grinned.

She had not changed clothes in almost 36 hours… she sighed and agreed. Plus she needed a shower, even if it would be made pointless soon after. Very soon in fact, as they both put on PJs after drying off but before heading to Connor’s bedroom, which they both lived in. No this is not weird.

Now, with both in their PJs, and teeth brushed, it was time! Yonah had returned to his normal size a while ago and he picked up the human and locked her dark and sleep deprived eyes onto his own. Before he lowered her from eye level and shoved her into his mouth.

Now, Naomi was never enthusiastic to be eaten, at least, not by Yonah. Not by anyone but Connor really. It kinda sucked, a lot. Being swallowed was the worst part. Yonah, being almost five times shorter than Connor, could barely fit a human torso in his mouth and Naomi’s sides sometimes got bruised against his teeth, and even though it was a short trip down it always felt like she might be squeezed to death. But that wasn’t why she was so unhappy.

Yonah noticed her hesitation but didn’t say anything as he swallowed her down as quickly as he could, and then promptly made his way to Connor’s chambers. Maybe the motion of his gate would lull his passenger. It was a fair distance even for Yonah, at 23.5ft, navigating a Castle meant for much larger giants. But the wash chamber was nearby to make it more convenient for Naomi. Soon he was in the bedroom and making his way to his own bed that was tucked into a corner of the room. It was a four poster with a canopy, and curtains, which gave it a feel of a box or a container, or cage… which wasn’t a bad thing, in fact it kinda felt familiar but he was sure he’d never been caged in such a way.

Yet sleep did not come. Specifically Naomi couldn’t sleep. As he climbed into his bed he felt Naomi shift. So much so it was clear she hadn’t woken due to his movements. Normally such little hints of struggle lulled him, but he could sense her restlessness and with him being in charge of her wellbeing, his worry chased away any lulling effect.

“Something wrong Naomi?” He sat at the side of his bed, feet on the ground, and pressed a hand to his belly, pleasantly full with the small human woman. She didn’t seem to appreciate this.

“It’s nothing!” She kicked, knowing it didn’t hurt him but he still grunted for her edification.

“That’s a lie, you need to tell me,” he rubbed at her.

He heard her sniff.

“This is. So different from when Connor eats me… it’s so confining!!” though her tone carried an air of falsehood.

“Do… you want me to spit you up? Will you sleep if I hold you in my arms?” Yonah knew full well that Naomi was from a tropical kingdom, used to warm humid nights, and was so accustomed to sleeping in Connor’s stomach that the cool dry air of the giant’s castle made it hard for her to fall asleep.

“I just miss Connor!” She finally wailed softly. Oh. This wasn’t a problem he could fix, and he was about to suggest he cast a reversal of his reduction so that he was closer to Connor’s size, if only briefly. But The problem wasn’t his size, the problem was he wasn’t Connor, so it was unlikely to help.

Yonah still held his stomach, he could feel her shaking as she cried under his hand. There wasn’t anything he could do.

Then his keen ears picked up a new sound and he stiffened. Naomi was too preoccupied to notice at first. Until he poked at his stomach, and with that poke was able to convey an air of novel concern.

“Wha-”

“I hear something-”

“Surely not an assassin, Connor’s not even-”

Shhhh - he pressed his hand forcefully down, feeling her squish in frustration. The sound was distant and small, he needed her to be silent. As emotional Naomi was, she knew that this took precedence. In fact she was a bit worried. What if it was a an assassin, or a slayer! Technically any slayer after Connor is also an assassin given his status as King.

“Yonah if you eat an assassin without spitting me up-”

“The fuck!? That’s horrid, and please, quiet-” he said at a whisper. It was probably the lack of sleep combined with missing Connor that had her so delirious that she even thought he would make her sit in his stomach if he caught someone. Now that he was thinking about it too and it made him a bit sick to his stomach. But he forced such images away to focus on the sound.

“Oh!” he said as he realized what it was. It wasn’t one he heard very often. “That’s the human door!”

Naomi sat up, curious but not without some concern. “You’re sure?”

“Very sure, and it sounds a bit frantic”

“I doubt it’s trouble... “

They sat there for another minute.

“Still knocking” Yonah reported.

Naomi shifted like she was thinking. Then Yonah heard the door unlock, open, and then the quick steps of bare feet across the stone floor, headed right for him! Him and Naomi! Quickly he put on his glasses, withdrew the curtains, and peered into the darkness.

The figure passed through a section of the floor that had a spot of moonlight shining down from a window and Yonah startled but chuckled as he saw the plump female form.

“It’s Dani!” he said.

He thought that would make Naomi relax but the way she flopped over she wasn’t relieved as much as suspicious.

And her suspicions were confirmed when Dani climbed right into the bed and dropped what a moment ago had been a human sized book, now the correct size for him, into his lap with a THUP. Yonah anticipated the next sentences out of her mouth as, hands on her hips, she glared at him with fierce confidence.

“Eat me! Read to me!”

Yonah was acutely aware that his hand was STILL over his stomach, and Naomi had gone still, but he wasn’t worried about that. While he loathed to turn Dani down, his stomach was already occupied. This wasn’t really up to him.

Having also gotten little sleep his first emotion was annoyance, then anger. But no. He wouldn't lash out. Instead hesmiled kindly down at Dani, scooping her up in his free hand and kissing her chubby cheek, stroking the back of her head. Then he rubbed at his stomach and looked down, Dani looking as well.

“Only if Naomi says it’s ok”

Even in the dark He could see Dani’s face get red.

“I- didn’t realize-” she flicked her eyes back to Yonah’s which in the darkness glowed softly. “I’m having trouble sleeping, so I thought- even if you don't eat me…”

Naomi sighed with her entire body. Seemed like Yonah’s services were in high demand tonight. Still. The idea of Yonah eating Dani along with her… The chamber that was his stomach was so small that Naomi filled up most of the space already. Yonah said he could do it, eat more than one person, but was now the time for him to prove it? As a test she stretched out the space a bit. With her massaging it graciously gave way, not as much as she would have liked, but better than nothing. Another sigh, and then she deflated.

“Misery loves company, she can’t make it worse!”

Yonah grimaced, he wasn’t so sure about that. But then looked back at Dani who was snuggling into his arm, smiling softly. She hadn’t heard Naomi’s reply. Though now with Naomi’s permission, Yonah couldn’t see himself not eating Dani. One person in his belly was pretty great. But two? Wonderful. Delightful. The ideal amount of stuffed for a perfect and well deserved night’s rest. So he jostled his arm and Dani looked up at him.

“Naomi said it was alright” he kissed her cheek again, this time sticking out the tip of his tongue to get a brief taste, for soon he would get the full experience.

Dani’s eyes lit up, “Really! Then what are you waiting for?”

The light chuckle that came from Yonah shook Naomi who couldn’t help but giggle as Yonah said “Nothing, I’m just not feeling rude enough tonight to not warn Naomi that she’s about to have company.” He pressed fingers into his stomach to make sure she was listening. Since she could hear him speak, his statement to Dani was all the warning she needed.

He held Dani up to his mouth and opened his jaws wide, placing his tongue over his teeth so she could crawl in. There was more flavor on Dani tonight, she must have used some new bath salts. Yonah had recently caught onto Dani’s attempts to find a combination of salts that would be nearly irresistible to him, but since the magic flavors of the salts were designed for Syorians, there hadn’t been much success. He still held her in his mouth for longer than he had done Naomi, enjoying the new and interesting flavor that complimented her natural one.

There wasn't much space with her halfway in his mouth but he could still move his tongue enough to make Dani squirm a bit, laugh a bit. Until he tipped his head back, and he pushed her in a little further as gravity helped slide her to his throat and he took a swallow. While he liked to take his time with this too, as the stretching was painful but in a good way, his airway was completely cut off, he had to continue to swallow. Slowly but steadily. Naomi was also scrambling a bit, probably to make room. That felt nice. When he took a deep breath as her body slipped past his collar and allowed him to breath he could feel the pressure in his chest.

“Hey!” he heard Dani yelp and his own breath caught! As he felt something he hadn’t in a while.

Her hands had only left the esophagus, her head not even breaching into the chamber, when strong hands took her wrists and pulled her in. While their safety charms produced light, they had both set them to be dim in anticipation of sleeping, but not pitch black just yet, they needed to get settled in some semblance of comfort in the confined space.

“Hi Naomi!” Dani said as she tried to get off of the woman of much higher authority. That mostly failed but at least she wasn’t on top of Naomi anymore. More laying across.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, but it had only been a once or twice before. So adjusting to being so squished wasn’t very quick. They had to move around a lot to experiment with different positions. Yonah hummed small vibrations as they made their various attempts, and his constant poking and pressing at them did not help, but neither did they tell him to stop.

Oh it was a great day, or night, when he got to eat two people! And two of his favorite people in this world. Friends always tasted better. And every shove was a small burst of joy for him as he sat, completely content.

Finally the movement stopped but yonah didn’t notice until one of them, probably Dani, did her best to kick his insides.

“The book, Yonah? You’re not getting this full belly for free you know!” that was Dani, and Naomi laughed.

“Naomi needs to sleep, Dani!”

He felt the women shift a bit and had a hushed discussion that he couldn’t hear well enough.

“I’ll fall asleep faster if you read! Your voice is very soothing.” That statement was accompanied by stroking against his insides.

Placing all of his pillows behind him so he was sitting up for maximum comfort, he picked up the book. There was a bookmark in it but disregarded it. This was Warrior Mages: Into the Feywild, the first story from a series he’d not read before. Of course being from another world (not to mention his loss of memory from the interdimensional travel), he hadn’t read most book series. This one in particular he’d wanted to read, on Dani’s recommendation. Sneaky little human!

The effect wasn’t immediate but it was much quicker than he’d have bet on, as he could soon hear light snores coming from his midsection. He’d barely made it a second chapter in, and while he’d been hooked he was also on the verge of passing out. Keeping his voice low he told Dani this, laying a hand lightly over his stomach. She only responded with some strokes from the other side of his flesh. Still awake but not about to insist he keep reading.

Very carefully and very slowly he adjusted his position and pillows so that he was laying down. The weight of the humans settling in his gut, he kept his hand over the spot, using his other to pull up a thin blanket.

Apparently the night's adventures were not over however, as only 2 hours later the door burst open with the King’s early, loud, dead of night return. Yonah thanked the gods the didn’t think to shout for his friend. But the crash of the door and the approaching thunderous footsteps were just as infuriating.

Taking note that Naomi was not as her desk, Connor made a beeline for the small bed in the corner, dropped to his knees, leaned down, and drew the curtains without warning, though he was met with the angry, tired gaze of his little, doll sized guard who was sitting up, clearly stuffed with the king’s favorite treat. A little too stuffed if Connor was inclined to notice, but he was not. Yonah’s mane of jet black curly hair was also in the most amusing state, which Connor did notice but didn’t care about.

His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and he had a massive fanged grin on his face like a child looking at both a pet rabbit and a piece of chocolate cake.

“Spit her up!” he said without any more pretense. His voice devoid of consideration for the time of night.

Yonah put his hands defensively over his stomach, “Welcome back, Your Majesty.” The two humans in his belly waking up slower than he, but upon Yonah’s words Naomi called out as well.

“Connor’s back! Let me out!!”

The pointed ears of the king flicked to catch the voice of his friend and favorite snack.

Normally he’d obey a direct order from The King. Without question he would follow identical orders from the King and his second in command. But he was sleep deprived, no mood to deal with a demanding royal, and more so no mood to give up his treats! So delightfully full. He deserved this. The King could fucking wait.

“No.” he growled, making his eyes glow.

Connor blinked in surprise. A bit confused and taken aback at this blatant disrespect for his authority.

“What do you mean, no?” He narrowed his eyes surely his guard wasn’t disobeying him!

“What do you mean, no!!” Naomi’s voice rang out. Dani stayed silent, not really her place to intervene.

Connor’s ears flicked back and forth, switching between showing frustration and staying locked on Naomi’s voice.

“Yonah if you dont spit her up, I’ll-”

Yonah glared “Do what!? Fire me? Punish me? If you do, I hope you Have fun finding another guard, You had such great luck before.”

Connor’s hand had started to reach for him but stopped at Yonah’s threat. He knew Yonah wouldn’t really quit. But he finally noticed the bags under yonah’s eyes as the fire and sleep deprived fueled angry otherworldly half-giant continued to glare at him. Then pulled the curtains closed before the king could respond. The bed chamber was brightly lit now but the curtains, though translucent, were designed to keep most light out.

A smile crept onto Yonah’s face as he heard Connor continue to grumble yet stood up and walked away. He lay back down and fell asleep quickly as Naomi continued to complain while Dani regretted her choice of bed for the night.

[FIN]

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gabriel-gabdiel · 3 years

Text

Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword Chapter 56: Living Sin (Part 8)

Likka Ikumi and Natsuki Shinkai deal with the Karasu and Kuronue tandem. The Oniwabanshu with Kuwabara deal with Gein and the Omyouji.

Hiei and Kurama deal with Usui as well.

The original source of this idea comes from Chad Yang. I continued his story idea found here.

The rest of the chapters of my Yuyu Hakusho and Rurouni Kenshin crossover fan fiction are available here and here. Enjoy.

First | Previous | Next

At the Okushiri Airport...

Natsuki Shinkai freed herself from Kuronue's tight chains, increasing their velocity even while at rest by focusing and infusing her unique reiki unto them.

Kuronue barely dodged the bullet-fast broken chain shrapnel along with the follow-through Kousa Dageki (Cross Strike) strike and thrust combo that nearly crushed his skull and/or put a hole in his trachea.

Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he got hit after all. And killed.

However, the next thing Natsuki knew, he was about 6 feet or 2 meters away from her, none the worse for wear. As though she had hit and killed a mirage.

Damn. That was close.

They were currently inside the flaming remnants of a 747 cargo plane that Karasu had earlier blown up along with the rest of the airport.

Yes, Natsuki Shinkai could be as softhearted as Kurama in that she wouldn't indiscriminately kill her enemies. However, when she was pushed far enough, she could be every bit as cruel as the Youko.

Especially if she thought you deserved it. Like her father, Feng Xinhai, attempting to kill Daiji Matsudaira with a half-formed supercell of a tornado.

Apparently, a simple humiliating parry of her best friend's flying kick was enough to send her to the edge.

Figuring out what Kuronue meant by Natsuki's limits, Kuronue started blasting the remaining buildings and planes of the decimated Okushiri Airport.

Even though she could redirect the explosions or even rubble away from herself, the mindful Natsuki kept her barrier down against the high-speed shards of earth and glass for fear of accidentally deflecting it against nearby civilians or her friend, Likka Ikumi.

"Dammit," she cursed as she concentrated hard to deflect the individual rubble and debris at only Karasu and Kuronue in order to protect Ikumi.

"I think I understand her weakness now," said Karasu, who sneered and produced Clamshell Shrapnel Bombs for good measure. "She's only as powerful as the attacks directed at her! She also needs to concentrate hard to manipulate the direction and trajectory of a multitude of objects coming at her simultaneously or else there'll be collateral damage!"

"That's right. She can't deflect multiple things at the same time!" said Kuronue, who easily maneuvered through the raining debris, metal shrapnel, glass, and rubble in order to attack Natsuki with them, knowing that she could only dodge and couldn't return fire with any effective offense of her own.

The demons attacked simultaneously at two fronts, which kept Shinkai from focusing her psionic redirection powers properly.

Natsuki held on remarkably well though, redirecting the flying rock shards at both demons while using Hawatari (Sword Halt) and Hadome (Sword Crossing) at the supersonic Kuronue's attempts at stabbing her and making her mess up her concentration.

"Ahhh!" Likka cried out in pain as several bits of shrapnel hit her on the thigh and abdomen.

There were too many bullet-fast objects chaotically shooting at every direction and at different speeds for Shinkai to properly take account of and deflect.

"Likka-tan! I'm sorry!" shouted a tearful Natsuki, only for Kuronue to aim for her neck with his scythe. She then faced her attacker and said, "Fine. You want me to kill you? Then I will!"

She proceeded to do what Kuronue claimed she couldn't do, which was to reverse the flow of his blood in one direction, leading his head swell and burst like a balloon.

A second Kuronue appeared right behind the deceased one, his blade at the ready. "Whoa. Those are some frightening powers, child."

'What the hell was going on anymore?' thought Natsuki as the tip of the sickle cut through her stomach.

Karasu then threw a new grenade at Natsuki, who attempted to deflect it only for it to explode in her face.

***

Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword

A Rurouni Kenshin/Yuyu Hakusho Crossover Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

Original Concept by Chad Yang

The Misao reincarnation known as Likka Ikumi gets to activate her special powers at last.

Disclaimer: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, and Studio Pierrot. Rurouni Kenshin is the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallop, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted materials that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 56: Living Sin (Part 8)

***

At Nabetsuru Rock...

The Nabetsuru (Pot Handle) Rock was a tourist destination off of the coast of Okushiri Island. It was a rock formation visible across the shores of Okushiri with the appearance of a pot handle.

Speaking of pots, the water surrounding the rock soon boiled, steamed, and bubbled like water inside a pot being heated by a stove. Something was afoot.

The half-healed zombie corpse body of Usui Uonuma was still licking his wounds from his defeat against Hajime Saito when one of the ferry-girls located him off of Nabetsuru Rock and informed the Reikai Senshi (Spirit World Warriors) of the fact.

Shikigami from Houji had gathered around him to present him with enough spiritual power to restore his body to seeming health.

It was weird how jaki (negative energy) of all things could heal him, but he knew his body was really more of a corpse and he was more of a vengeful ghost than a reincarnated spirit.

He knew and he didn't care. He'd cling to existence by any means necessary after it was nearly snuffed out by Makoto Shishio and "permanently" ended by Hajime Saito.

Usui had by then reconnected his body's top half with his bottom half, but his fatal wounds were still tender and his broken spine was still in bad shape.

The Spirit World Warriors were really hammering their forces down, weren't they?

A few minutes later and there he was: Jaganshi (Evil Eye User) Hiei.

Probably the second or third most powerful member of the Reikai Senshi, behind Kenshin Himura (with his inimitable Demon Sword) and Yusuke Urameshi (the direct descendant of one of the Three Kings of Makai, Raizen).

Usui smirked, opened his mouth, and licked his lips.

This was now a battle between the Shingan (True Eyes) and the Jagan (Evil Eyes).

The blind swordsman turned spearman zombie wondered about something. If he had Jine Udo's Jagan on one eye socket and Hiei's Jagan on his other eye socket, would he finally gain the power he needed to usurp the likes of Tenro? Or the Chojin?

Or Shishio?

'Same difference.'

He remembered how his supernatural Tinbe shield grew thick enough to stop even the ultimate attacks of both a super-powered Kenshin and Saito, which in turn allowed his Rochin to penetrate anything weaker and less dense than his Tinbe.

If he had the power of one Jagan to hypnotize people and another Jagan to gain control of huge amounts of demonic energy, he'd be unstoppable: The most powerful Shin Ju who possessed both superhuman senses and supernatural powers.

'But first thing's first,' Uonuma thought, noticing the fewer number of shinigami (death gods) assisting his healing as Hiei approached his perch on the unusual rock at dangerous speeds.

The sea seemingly parted in twain from the jaganshi's flashing steps as though he were a mix of a miniature speedboat and Moses himself parting the Red Sea like theater curtains.

***

There were too many of them. There was a suffocating amount if multiplying Iwanbos there as well as shikigamis who fed them jaki.

The combination of Houji "Onmyouji (Occult Priest)" Sadojima and Edward "The Puppet Master" Gein (also known as Dr. Shoji Sugino from Unit 731) were too much for this batch of Reikai Senshi to handle.

That was the simple conclusion that the Spirit World Warriors and the Oniwabanshu (Garden Keepers) had when fighting against the armies of undead Iwanbo and shikigami spirits from both of the Chojin's top generals/captains.

Like the Roku Youkai (Six Demons) on Mt. McKinley versus The Nameless Yatsume, the Reikai Tantei and the Oniwabanshu were flooded with Iwanbo versions 1, 2, and 3 and the shikigami they fed on for jaki and power ups, like this was an ecosystem teeming with predators and the Reikai Senshi were their prey.

Kuwabara had been chopping out reanimated puppets and familiars left and right with his twin Jigen Tou (Dimensional Sword) for almost an hour, only to end up sapped of energy.

He ended up with only one flickering Dimension Sword left as more and more of the puppet monsters appeared, multiplying by mitosis or something.

At the same time, he had to contend against Houji turning everything nearest him into fast-healing creatures like Toguro Ani, with their wounds or even pureed bodies healing instantly. Like nothing they did to them could faze them.

Gein, in turn, used his own unique jaki to supply the Chojin's necromancer with fresh corpses to bring to life.

The reincarnated Okashira (Boss) of the Oniwabanshu—Daiji Matsudaira (formerly Aoshi Shinomori) —fluidly maneuvered against the razors-sharp web of trip-wires that the World War II veteran mad scientist ninja known as Gein weaved with diamond-covered threads, only to be bull-rushed by the one Iwanbo Version 3 with the four arms: The Iwanbo Version 3.2.

The Iwanbo 3.2 had thus far trampled on all of the efforts of the Tokyo Oniwabanshu to take it down, whether it was through poison, fire, sword slashes, brute strength, or martial arts.

Like Shikijo, it got cross-slash scars from every part of its body, but it still kept moving, shrugging off the rain of kodachi Daiji produced as well as the pistol shots to the head (the police officer could conjure guns as well).

Kuwabara did notice how the monstrous puppet recovered as quickly as Toguro Ani while sporting the same ridiculous musculature of Toguro Ototo. 'Hiei and Kurama's investigations were true! That old ninja guy really was responsible for demonizing the Toguro Brothers!'

Meanwhile, Kuwabara desperately held on to his knife-sized Jigen Tou, willing it to existence even as he had to contend against an undead army of shikigami and Iwanbos.

He could summon a Rei-Ken (Spirit Sword) instead, but even a dimensional knife had more utility to it.

He sliced apart portals, warp gates, dimensions, space, and even the sky itself with the way his cuts remained in the air like cracks on glass, cutting through the guts of the zombie puppets down below and the ghoulish ghosts from up above.

Houji and Gein pushed him to the brink of using up all his spirit energy, which may then force him to use his own life force to keep on fighting (like what Yusuke did to take down Suzaku the first time they fought).

The Onmyouji sloppily sliced his scythe at Kuwabara, who then blocked the blade but his knees ultimately buckled against the weight of the Chojin's negative energy instead of the strength of the strike.

'Dammit, we're going to lose!'

The bowl-cut necromancer cackled and ranted, "This is the power of the Chojin! This is the power of the gods! You were no match from the start!"

As for the Aoshi Shinomori of the modern era, he threw every last kodachi he could muster at the charging Iwanbo 3.2, whose tackles were so impactful he turned even fellow Iwanbo and stray shikigami inside-out into road kill, ground beef, or ectoplasm.

Even after being turned into a knife holder sculpture or Julius Caesar after his assassination, the four-armed Iwanbo would not stop charging.

The tired Okashira ended up taking a knee. He willed himself to move away with his Water Flow Movement, but Dr. Sugino caught him off-guard from behind with razor-sharp thread that wrapped around and bit into his neck.

"Checkmate, Okashira. You killed me before, right? Well, let me return the favor."

Daiji struggled against the old man, surprised at how strong he was for his age, the piano wire digging deeper into his throat. They'd be both turned into mush by the rampaging Iwanbo 3.2, but only one of them would end up getting resurrected by the Onmyouji when all was said and done.

The air around them then changed as the ghosts of the Oniwabanshu rose again. However, something inside them changed. They exuded menace that wasn't there before.

Hannya, Shikijo, Hyottoko, and Beshimi rose up like zombies hungry for flesh.

"Don't you dare touch the Okaaashiiiraaa...!"

***

As Likka Ikumi—Misao Makimachi's Heisei reincarnation—went unconscious due to blood loss, she dreamed of what had happened earlier, when she was deemed a C-Level martial artist ninja girl while the rest of the people she knew from past and present ranked B-Level and higher instead.

"This isn't fair!" Likka complained to Yahiko Myojin. "You'd be B-Level too if you didn't have special powers yourself, you little brat!"

"Yeah, funny how that works. Even Cat Eyes got better superpowers than you and your quick costume changes! OW!" teased Yahiko before he got hit upside the head with Misao's patented flying kick.

"KECHO GIRI!" Ikumi screamed. "Grrr! I want superpowers too! I don't want to end up in the battlefield being some sort of liability to Uncle Jiji (Daiji) or Tsuki-chan (Natsuki)!

Yahiko then relented, "Jeez, Weasel-chan! Don't be upset about me being stronger than you. You only 'woke up' recently! But you're still the reincarnation of Makimachi Misao and yes, you're better at hand-to-hand combat than I am."

Likka paused then pouted. "Really, Yahiko-chan?"

Kenshin himself then said, "Misao-dono, I know that Shinomori Aoshi's talent might have blinded you of this fact, but shinobi (spies) are not known for their swordsmanship or strength. They're instead known for their cunning."

Natsuki herself interjected, "You are not a swordsman but a spy, Likka-tan. A ninja. A shadow warrior. You can take down a samurai many times more powerful than you by ambush and stealth. Use that."

Likka then woke up back at the Okushiri Airport, in time to see the miko (priestess) ferry-girl tending to her shrapnel wounds, removing the foreign objects and healing her body the best she could.

"Please, wake up! Please, hang on!" pleaded the shinigami known as Hinageshi.

***

Back at the Kyujimayama Observatory...

The combination of Houji the Onmyouji and Gein the Puppet Master was truly too much for Kazuma Kuwabara and the Oniwabanshu to handle.

Daiji Matsudaira then did the Jissen Kenbu (combining the Water Flow Movement with his one-handed kodachi strikes) to escape Dr. Sugino's wire-based grasp. The doctor was not as adept at pure ninjutsu as his Meiji Era counterpart.

However, Shoji's supernatural powers and modern scientific knowledge more than made up for his lack of physical prowess and skills.

However, just behind them, the transformed Oniwabanshu tore apart the four-armed Iwanbo 3.2 like a pack of wolves.

"Saaaave the Okashiraaa! At aaaall cooosts!"

Hannya. Shikijo. Hyottoko. Beshimi.

Again, their supposed Okashira had failed them and soiled their memories. Or this watered-down copper version of their Okashira living in the present Heisei Era did so.

These ghosts that served as Daiji's guardian angels from the death of his wife at the hands of Feng Xinhai to the present, when he discovered his dark destiny as being the reincarnation of the Last Oniwabanshu Okashira, were now forced to demonize themselves.

They abandoned their humanity and turned themselves into monsters in order to save Matsudaira.

Shikijo's muscles bulged and popped as his complexion turned grey or even metallic, with him grabbing one set of the Iwanbo's arms in order to stop him in his tracks.

Beshimi bit the Iwanbo with snake-like fangs and threw toxic spines growing from all over his body at him for good measure, the corrosive toxins directly seeping into the undead veins of the puppet monster.

Hyottoko turned into a full-on kappa youkai who breathed fire, toasting the creature from behind.

And finally, the tri-clawed Hannya mauled the Iwanbo repeatedly by slicing apart the veins of his other arms and ravaging him like a rabid wolverine.

The more they ripped apart the puppet, the more mindless they became. Like wild animals.

Houji chuckled at the display, letting his shikigami deal with the weakening Kuwabara for a change. "How would it feel if I brought your ghost friends back to life, Okashira? Alas, they'd end up as the Chojin's minions, but at least they'd be alive."

Meanwhile, Gein retreated and used his own knowledge of the dark arts in order to form a fresh new Iwanbo 3.2 puppet out of the spare parts of the discarded Iwanbo corpses.

No. Enough was enough.

The deceased Oniwabanshu had been haunting Aoshi's soul all this time, even a hundred years later in another body, because they felt like they had failed in protecting him when the opposite was instead true.

Time and time again, they'd saved him.

His blue eyes shining bright like twin stars on a clear night, Daiji's aura of reiki (spirit energy) flared to life and reacted to the youki (demonic energy) emanating from his former Oniwabanshu comrades.

He then started to absorb their dark energy unto himself, shouldering all their anger and feelings of failure unto his own body.

It was his failure and lack of strength that kept them anchored to him for so long, keeping them from passing on.

It was his turn to save them.

As Matsudaira absorbed more of their dark energy, the Oniwabanshu ghouls started to go back to normal. They were neither demons nor monsters any longer.

"Uh, what happened?" asked Shikijo.

"Beats me. I don't remember much," said Beshiimi.

"I feel hungry," said Hyottoko.

"You can't be hungry! You're a ghost!" admonished Hannya, who then turned towards Daiji's shadowy form. "It's the Okashira. He has saved us again, as usual!"

Daiji then went face-to-face against the Iwanbo 3.2, who had again started to cannibalize the corpses or even the "living" bodies of his undead puppet brethren as well as the nearby shikigami unto him.

To build his strength by feeding upon the weak just like Matsudaira did to his Oniwabanshu underlings' youki.

The Iwanbo Version 3.2 then charged at Matsudaira, with the pair of Houji and Gein close behind him.

"Kill the Okashira! Do so and we'll have this battle in the bag!" said Gein to his puppet.

"We might even be able to revive his soul and turn him into one of the Juppon Gatana," suggested Sadojima.

They were in for the shock of their lives.

***

Back at Nabetsuru Rock...

Jaganshi Hiei ran on water like Jesus Christ in a hurry then blasted the rock where the half-healed (or still-healing) Usui Uonuma lay with a Jaou-En-Satsu Kokuryuha (Dragon of Darkness Flame).

The fire demon didn't want to take any chances. However, as expected, Uonuma's Tinbe still remembered the sheer power of the most powerful strikes given to it by the Battousai and the Miburo.

Thusly, the dense adaptable shield survived even the atomic heat of the Makai flames from Hiei's deadliest attack, neutralizing it completely.

"Hn."

Usui answered that indignant harrumph with a chuckle. "And just like that, my Tinbe is now fireproofed as well as shock-absorbent. Is that your best shot, Jaganshi Hiei?"

Hiei then visually disappeared from Uonuma's midst, but the blind man couldn't even see him regardless, so he wasn't too worried.

Usui heard Hiei all the while though.

The blind spearman could only smile as he caught each and every slash or stab Hiei attempted to hit him with, deflecting them away like rain with his Tinbe umbrella.

Earlier, he was made aware that the Shin Ju had lost contact with Houji and Gein, which meant that there wasn't enough shikigami and jaki left to heal him fully.

However, he was an S-Level entity himself.

This meant that even though Uonuma didn't have the Onmyouji's assistance to restore his damaged body to health, he could damn well heal himself on his own. Not at the cancerous rate that the regenerative Toguro Ani could, but fast enough to count when the chips were down.

'I just need to buy myself a little bit more time,' Usui thought, blocking all of Hiei's sword strikes and countering them with his Rochin spear that was as irresistible as his Tinbe was impenetrable.

'Battousai's reports are accurate,' thought Hiei. 'This man is hard to kill, even without the powers of the Onmyouji aiding him and keeping him alive. Or at least undead.'

The two combatants jumped from the rock to the shore, their feet both using the waves and the surface tension of the saltwater to travel from that long distance.

Not once was Hiei able to scratch the injured man. Not with the Kokuryuha. Not with his blade.

However, the blind Shin Ju in turn wasn't fast enough to counter with his Rochin. He kept missing his kaeshi (ripostes) even though he parried or blocked all of the fire demon's physical attacks.

Getting behind Usui to stab him and avoid the shield didn't work because the spearman sensed the fire demon's presence every time and blocked accordingly.

However, thanks to Hiei's Jagan and his inborn twitch reflexes, the Rochin could not touch him in turn, no matter how badly he missed or got parried by the former bakufu swordsman turned Juppon Gatana member.

Perhaps it was because Usui was too injured. Or perhaps it was because he was too slow from the get go.

They seemed to be at an impasse.

***

"Ahhh!" Natsuki shrieked, her impenetrable deflection powers working against her, drawing the implosion towards her instead of away from her due to the nature of her reversal powers.

The crow demon smirked.

His experimental Pillbug Implosion Bomb was a success.

Shinkai predictably attempted to deflect it like Karasu's other bombs, but she did so by reversing its momentum. This made the bomb explode instead of implode unto itself.

The way Natsuki affected her environment was to use the inertia of the objects going towards her and reverse their momentum so that she didn't have to expend her spirit energy moving them away.

To reverse the momentum of an implosion bomb was to turn it into an explosive.

"Now, Kuronue! While you have the chance!"

Kuronue and his afterimage clones attacked Natsuki. Then, after several more Kuronues died out, one of them decapitated Natsuki with his scythe.

Game. Set. Match.

However, that Natsuki turned out to be a standee advertisement of a stewardess instead. Taken straight from the rubble.

"!?" intoned Kuronue, only to realize it was the Misao reincarnation who duped him into decapitating the decoy.

It was a classic ninjutsu trick. Substituting one object for another.

Karasu attempted to get rid of the troublesome onmitsu (ninja girl) with his variety of bombs, only to be greeted with a rain of kunai (ninja daggers) moving at every which way and direction, defying the laws of physics, gravity, and momentum.

He yelped as a dagger ended up in his eye, which would normally be weak enough for him to swat away. 'Where is that damned ninja...?!'

As for Kuronue and Natsuki, they were locked in a battle of wills and wits. Or perhaps a war of attrition.

For different reasons, both Shinkai and the bat demon ended up cleaving or crushing through dozens upon dozens of their respective "clones".

With Natsuki, they were illusions made by Likka. With Kuronue, it was still a mystery where his doppelgangers came from.

For every Kuronue clone that got beat up, head-crushed, stabbed, blinded, or disabled in some way, so too did every Natsuki clone suffer getting their limbs chopped off, their heads decapitated, and their bodies bisected horizontally or vertically.

The fading corpses of Shinkai and Kuronue that littered the landscape disappeared as soon as they fell.

"I don't care anymore!" the one-eyed Karasu threw implosion bombs at the pair's direction. "I'm sure you'll somehow survive this, Kuronue, but she won't!"

That was Likka's cue to detonate the bombs with her flung kunai, one of which ended up stuck unto Karasu's hand.

"...Fool! You fell into my trap!" said Karasu even as one of the implosions set him ablaze. He then took his mask off with his other hand in order to activate his Full-Body Implosion rather than Explosion. "Now to kill you to get rid of all these illusions!"

Likka then smirked before she shifted forms and turned into Natsuki.

"...What?!"

A flabbergasted Kuronue then spared a glance at the Natsuki he was fighting all that time. The bat demon chopped her up, only for her to turn into a stop sign.

"Since when were you under the impression that you were fighting Tsuki-chan?"

"Natsuki" then appeared behind him and turned him into a kunai holder. Sure enough, this "Natsuki" ended up being Likka in disguise instead, mimicking her friend all the while.

"I will not be a burden to Tsuki-chan any longer! I can help her out with my own special power! We can win against you two!" said Ikumi.

Thus was the power of the "C-Level" Likka Ikumi: Optical Illusion. Perfect Deception. Absolute Fantasy.

In other words, Genjutsu (Illusionary Techniques).

Her skills allowed her reiki to create mirages or hallucinations from her own imagination that, when used properly, could make even gods kneel and devils cry.

A special power that could beat even S-Levels to submission.

A power similar to that of the Kanji Killer and his hypnotic Jagan, but it involved projecting her imagination unto reality like realistic mirages instead of invading her opponent's psyche for them to see what she wanted them to see, thus she used up less reiki to do it.

"You've underestimated the both of us," said Shinkai, whose only injuries were from that one implosion bomb from Karasu that slipped through. "Now pay for your arrogance!"

Just as Karasu was about to explode and take both the girls with him to kingdom come, Yutaro Tsukayama's female reincarnation reflected and focused all that potential energy towards Kuronue, blasting him with her own version of Suzaku's Railgun.

She turned the crow demon into fuel and matter for her own energy gun, the same way Suzaku could turn any piece of steel into a blast of pure energy.

The golden beam of light seemed to kill multiple clones of Kuronue at the same time, his body stubbornly refusing to disintegrate, with him reviving over and over, only for him to die again, until there was nothing left of both Karasu and Kuronue in that seeming infinite loop of life and death.

***

Hiei harrumphed.

His speed did not phase his opponent one bit. Nor did his S-Level youki and Dragon of Darkness Flame.

However, he still had to kill Usui then and there.

The blind swordsman with his adaptable Tinbe was too dangerous to be left alive. He'd just disrupt their plan to take out Houji Sadojima permanently and drive the Shin Ju back without hope of resurrection.

Was it shameful to strike down an injured man? In war, there was no such thing as honor or fairness. Just survival of the fittest.

Uonuma cackled. "The speed by which you attack and how hard it is to catch you off-guard is impressive. You remind me of someone."

Hiei didn't answer back.

"Ah yes. Sou-kun," said Usui with a hint of wistfulness in his voice even though his comrade Soujiro Seta was still with him, just in a different unit of the Chojin's Army (the Dai Shin Kan).

The two used to spar from time to time, with both being amazed at the other's prowess.

Seta was surprised by the fact that no matter how fast he went, the Tinbe would block his strike despite his lack of presence or sakki (bloodlust). Uonuma was shocked at how, at times, the boy would reach supersonic speeds that even his Rochin couldn't hope to counter.

Instead of turtling up in defense, Usui attacked for a change, the sands of the beach underfoot blasting behind him like a sandstorm. His Shingan senses and Hiei's Jagan third eye kept the both of them from making fatal contact with each other. The most they could muster were flesh wounds.

Perhaps the youkai underestimated the revived human's abilities just because he was injured.

"Sou-kun's Shukuchi made him blindingly fast and his lack of bloodlust made him nearly undetectable. Your speed and constant bloodlust reminds me of him. You're always brooding while he's always happy. Like twin sides of the same coin."

"Sou-kun", huh? Soujiro Seta was a thorn in Hiei's side all throughout his mission and investigation on human experimentation at Alaska's Mount McKinley (also known as Denali).

The longer the battle went the further Usui pushed Hiei into a corner (literally even as they battled from the beach to the resort to the streets and to several nearby buildings), much to the prideful demon's shame.

It wasn't because Uonuma was as fast as him. Rather, Shishio's oldest rival was used to fighting people as fast as Hiei was, such as Soujiro.

This allowed Usui to use prediction and skill to match Hiei's superior reflexes.

The jaganshi harrumphed again, growing impatient. Someone who was this injured should not be this hard to kill.

Regardless, the youkai still had an ace up his sleeve that the nimble "Ten Ken (Heaven Sword)" lacked.

Summoning the Sword of Darkness Flame felt like a waste of time, but he did it anyway. If speed didn't work then raw power might tip the scales of their deadlock.

This only made the wistful, deranged, and sightless man happier for some reason.

A wave of nostalgia filled Usui. He couldn't see the fire of Hiei's flaming sword with his own actual eyes, his stolen Jagan from Jine sealed away with his blindfold, but he felt the heat from blade, giving him goose bumps and raising the hairs behind his neck.

Usui was for all intents and purposes a living corpse with an unbeating heart, but his mind made him feel as though his heart raced and his blood flowed like hot fire through his veins. His aortas. His artificial circulatory system.

To Hiei's surprise, the zombie discarded his impenetrable Tinbe and charged with only his Rochin. Shouting one name all the while like a lunatic.

"DIE, SHISHIO!"

Compared to Soujiro and even Hiei, Usui knew more nuanced sword/spear forms and cutting/stabbing techniques than a simple upward, side, or angled slashes. Fire sword or no fire sword.

Like a drunk brawler picking a fight against a championship boxer. Quickness could be countered by experience against predictability.

The jaganshi attempted his usual modus operandi of making his opponent miss and slash at his afterimage, only for him to appear from behind and slash his opponent to bits instead.

However, it was Hiei who ended up slashing at air and an afterimage that wasn't there.

Did Uonuma heal his wounds already? Was he hiding his true speed all this time...?!

Hiei's Jagan tried to sense and locate where Uonuma was, like always. His sight beyond sight served as his means to activate his tripwire reflexes.

Wait a minute. He couldn't see or sense him. Even Usui's jaki was gone. Hiei's vision had become clouded. 'Dammit...!'

The Rochin from out of nowhere stabbed him in the back and shot him right into the sign saying they were in Kitaoimisaki Park, his youkai blood spewing forth his mouth, nostrils, and even his three eyes.

The illusion faded away like a pile of cherry blossom petals blown away by a strong breeze, and soon reality set in.

As soon as the flames from Hiei's Jaou-En-Satsu Ken (Sword of Darkness Flame) enticed Usui's senses, he lifted his blindfold and unsealed the power of Jine's version of the Jagan.

Apparently, even Hiei's artificial Jagan that Shigure transplanted unto him was susceptible to hypnosis. Along with the eyes he was born with.

The Forbidden Child of the Koorime fell into a boneless heap before his blood pooled from underneath him.

He was too careless.

He believed he was there to take care of injured game, forgetting that an animal's flight or fight instincts made them many times more dangerous than usual.

"That was refreshing," said Usui. "I have to thank you, Jaganshi Hiei. Your flaming sword reminded me what I'm truly fighting for, even after a century."

The maneuver Uonuma did on Hiei was something he wished to do on Shishio himself. Trick him with the Jagan then stab him in the back. S-Level or not, such a sneak attack would kill him.

Uonuma then frowned. Inwardly, he thought, 'I haven't mastered Jine's Jagan yet. I can only use it once a day. Maybe more with the help of the Onmyouji's jaki power up, but he's sealed off from the rest of us Shin Ju right now.'

After a minute of pondering, the taller, bearded man grabbed hold of the diminutive demon by the hair and lifted him up high over his shoulders, his bloodstained Jagan in full view.

"No matter," Usui decided. "I have a new Jagan to play with now. As soon as Gein returns, I'll have him surgically implant your Jagan into the empty socket of my other eye. Then I'll have the power of both the Shingan and twin Jagan at my hands."

Uonuma trembled with barely contained excitement, which woke Hiei up after blacking out from the pain of being stabbed so hard.

"Not even Battousai nor Saito Hajime nor Shishio Makoto nor Tenro nor the Chojin will stand a chance against me once I have both those Jagan in my possession along with my Tinbe and Rochin!"

Just as Uonuma was about to melon-ball Hiei's Evil Eye from its artificial socket, Kurama then arrived, parrying the Rochin away with the Grass Blade.

"...Ah. You must be the Legendary Youko Kurama," said Usui with a sneer. "Udo Jine has told us a lot about you."

***

Kyujimayama Observatory suddenly had an entire building sprout from its lookout. Like a gigantic tree of steel and concrete. An ominous castle made of black spires and iron ore.

A structure with no discernible entrance, doors, or windows.

Earlier, just as another Iwanbo 3.2 was on the verge of turning Daiji Matsudaira into a messy pile of shattered bones, giblets, and mince meat, something changed inside the policeman's soul.

He absorbed the guilt and unfulfilled desires of the Oniwabanshu that left them as earthbound spirits, this energy mixing with the reiki of Daiji's soul and the kenki (swordsman spiritual energy) of Aoshi's warrior spirit.

Pushed into a corner and forced to feed into the negative energy of his comrades, his reiki and kenki started to mix with their youki and jaki.

It produced a whole new kind of energy: A swordsman's energy mixed with a human soul's spirit energy and the bloodlust of a demon.

Reiatsu (Spirit Pressure).

Like Shinobu Sensui's Sei Kou Ki (Holy Light Energy), Daiji produced a different sort of spiritual power worthy of one the gods or shinigami themselves or their version of the police, the Reikai Tokubetsu Boueitai (Spirit World Special Defense Squad).

It was through this volatile cocktail of different energies that Matsudaira was able to produce the spire-filled castle by which he trapped Houji Sadojima, Gein, and their undead army in one huge, tangible prison with his Quest-Class powers to create matter out of spirit energy but without sacrificing his life energy to do so.

And, like the One-Eight-Ten Killer before him, he himself was on the verge of breaking through from A-Level to S-Level by suddenly learning this spirit energy blending technique that took Sensui years to perfect.

Afterwards, a flabbergasted Kuwabara created a portal out of the constricting spire and exited with Officer Matsudaira in tow. He then sealed the portal shut before the Onmyouji, Gein, or their creatures could come out.

They'd finally stopped and sealed Houji from reviving the Shin Ju every time they were beaten. For now.

"You're really something else, Officer Matsudaira. You know that?" said Kazuma.

Catching up with his own shallow breaths, Daiji turned behind him and stared back at his ghostly Oniwabanshu comrades. "I can't let them down. Not again."

Kuwabara himself turned towards where the copper was staring at, in time to see the will o' wisp or blue fireball souls of the dearly departed Oni Gang.

The fireballs then formed back into the transparent human bodies of the four deceased shadow warriors. Hannya. Shikijo. Hyottoko. Beshimi.

With a smile hidden behind his mask but could still be heard from his ghostly voice, Hannya said, "As expected of our Okashira."

From there, Uchiko Shikoku (Sayuri), the ferry-girl of the Northeast Quadrant, arrived and started replenishing their spirit energy, although she pouted as she told Daiji, "I was almost sure you'd die, Ikemen (Pretty Boy). Oh well. Maybe next time?"

To Kazuma, the blonde shinigami instead said, "You, I couldn't care less if you died or not."

"Nobody asked you!" shouted back Kuwabara.

***

Back at the Okushiri Airport...

Sayaka finished up her report to the other Reikai Senshi and then said to them. "So far so good. Kurama-san's plans are coming along smoothly. I've also heard reports from Sayuri-san that Sadojima Houji and Gein had been sealed inside a castle-like structure by Matsudaira Daiji-san."

"As expected of the Okashira!" said Likka, mirroring Hannya's sentiments. "We have this mission in the bag!"

Natsuki then told the young Spirit World Inspector, "Tell Shuichi-sempai, I mean, Minamino-sempai to watch out for that Kuronue person. He may still be out there."

Sayaka tilted her head to the side in askance. "Tell Kurama about Kuronue? Why? Isn't he dead? Didn't you just kill him? Killed two birds with one stone by making Karasu into an energy blast?"

"That's the thing. I'm not sure he's dead." Shinkai shook her head. "Killing him is actually easy. Keeping him dead is hard. It must have something to do with his current powers. He might still be out there, hunting Kurama at this very moment."

The Heisei Era Misao piped up, "Yeah, it was weird. Every time it seemed like you've killed him, another him kept popping up in his place."

The youngest ferry-girl considered their words. "Do you think he's like Toguro Ani? An S-Level, Regent-Class regenerator?"

Natsuki shrugged. "The best way I could describe it is that he's like Schrödinger's Cat. Like he's alive and dead at the same time."

"Maybe even Schrödinger's Bat!" Likka quipped to mostly silence.

***

Kitaoimisaki Park was located in the westernmost corner of Okushiri Island.

The Sea of Japan served as its backdrop. It was designed as an open-air museum of sorts filled with sculptures made by Masayuki Nagare, a modernist Japanese sculptor.

Sculptures that soon turned to dust from the battle that ensued.

"RENGOKU SHOU! (PURGATORY WOUND!)" shouted Hiei as he pummeled the wide-open, distracted Usui with his fists of flame, but the flurry of blows were also countered and neutralized by the damnable Tinbe shield.

It did allow him to get away from his captor, though.

Meanwhile, Kurama had arrived there just in time with the assistance of Sayuri's intel and Kuwabara's Jigen Tou.

Kurama asked for their help after they were done sealing away the Onmyouji with Daiji Matsudaira's evolving powers.

"Let's not risk having Usui use Jine's Jagan again," Kurama told Kuwabara. "Leave and don't look anywhere near his face or eyes, Kuwabara-kun."

"You got it, Kurama," said Kuwabara before making a portal out of there. "Hiei, you fucked up! Now Kurama has to bail you out!" Kazuma jumped right into the portal he made before Hiei could follow him and beat him up for his remark.

Kurama then told Hiei, "Kuwabara-kun's right, you know," which made Hiei seethe even more. "I know how you feel, but sit this battle out for now. Let me handle this while Sayuri-san heals you for now."

As for the scythe-bearing Uchiko "Sayuri" Shikoku, she balefully used her shinigami powers to heal the damage done on Hiei, although the pint-sized youkai didn't look too pleased about it.

"Look, we're both not happy about this, so could you stop glaring at me?" said Uchiko, who actually wanted to see what was next for the death-defying "hunk" known as Daiji Matsudaira instead.

Actually, Kitaoimisaki Park was supposed to be under Botan's jurisdiction (she was assigned the northwest quadrant), but she was too busy guiding Yahiko safely towards the Onmyouji to finish him off, so Sayuri had to do for now.

Usui chuckled, rubbing his chin. "Toguro Ani warned me about you," he said. "You're quite the trickster, I hear. So are you going to fight me now?"

"Yes," Kurama said, picking a rose seed inside his hair and turning it into a rose bloom then finally into the Rose Whip. However, this time around, it was a Rose Whip tied around the handle of the Grass Blade, thus turning it into a Rose Kusarigama (Chain Sickle).

"I hate tricksters like you," confessed Usui. "You remind me of a Saizuchi (his fellow Juppon Gatana member) that could somehow fight. The best way to take care of people like you is to kill you before you can come up with a convoluted scheme to take me down."

"Saizuchi?" repeated Kurama as he attempted to scan through Kenshin's memories given to him through his contact with the Demon Sword. "I don't know who that is." Himura must've never met that particular Ten Sword member.

They then proceeded to fight. Kurama was decently fast but not blindingly fast so like Kenshin Himura, Soujiro Seta, Yusuke Urameshi, or Jaganshi Hiei.

However, like with how Usui countered Hiei's speed with technique, Kurama knew how to methodically place his whip strikes and whiplash to minimize movement and maximize his range.

Also, thanks to his new weighted weapon, he could actually maneuver his whip to bounce off the Tinbe then hook-stab Uonuma from the back, as though he were fishing in the ocean.

What a frighteningly clever demon.

It took full focus and concentration from Usui's Shingan to predict the trajectory of every whip strike and whiplash from all sorts of awkward angles.

Kurama even made sure to attack only from a distance. He patiently waited when he'd commit to his strikes to keep himself from giving away any openings. A true chess master that outwitted even the likes of Feng Xinhai.

Truly irritating. Usui had no time for such protracted nonsense.

Usui let the Rose Chain-Sickle wrap around his Tinbe, which allowed him to pull Kurama towards him and stab him with the Rochin at last. The fox spirit turned human was able to twist his body in time to prevent a full-on stab like with Hiei, as though he was used to these situations.

Kurama grunted and tumbled backwards before ending up kneeling and gasping for breath.

Uonuma spared a sightless glance at Hiei and Sayuri, sneering at the youkai in particular. This was more for Hiei's sake (and mockery) than a need for him to sense the demon by turning his head, since he had heightened senses.

"I've defeated both Kurama and Hiei! The right-hand men of Yomi and Mukuro! Even the best demon warriors that Makai (Demon World) could offer are no match against me!"

However, before Usui knew it, he felt his Tinbe start to crumble, with cracks forming all around it like the time Kenshin hit it with the follow-up strike of the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki (Heavens Gliding Dragon Flash).

"W-What? But how...!?"

His fingers then noticed the growth of moss on the shield, which had taken root throughout the battle. "Moss...?"

Kurama said as he stood up, "A rolling stone gathers no moss. But a turtle shield might. Your Tinbe is amazingly sturdy, with it getting stronger the more you break it apart like organic bone. But since I added Makai Moss to it, the tiny cracks and marks it was supposed to heal couldn't heal because the moss roots had filled up their space."

Like moss on an old building, the moss on Usui's Tinbe compromised the strength of the magic item, keeping it from reconstituting itself properly. Making it crumble as the cracks and gaps where bone or shell was supposed to be was instead replaced with insidious moss.

Also, the Rochin strike to Kurama's side was shallower than before, the spear becoming more and more brittle in cadence with the weakening of the Tinbe.

A cold sweat dripped down Usui's beard. Even after he was warned by Toguro Ani to watch out for Kurama's trickery, he still ended up tricked in the end!

"I take it back," said Uonuma, gasping for air even though he didn't really need to breathe. "You don't remind me of Saizuchi after all, Kurama. You're more like Shishio Makoto himself. You're as shrewd as a fox yet you fight like a demon."

He glanced again at Hiei, this time not to mock him but instead because his Shingan sensed the sudden spike in heat from the fire demon, which in turn knocked Sayuri back.

"Eeek!"

"Jaou-En-Satsu...!"

"NOOOO...!"

"KOKURYUHA!"

Multiple Dragons of Darkness Flame engulfed and blasted open the compromised Tinbe like a roasting chestnut, the Demon World Moss burning away along with the rest of the turtle shield as the second-in-command of the Juppon Gatana and Shin Ju practically got nuked in place.

***

Meanwhile, in the sky overlooking the northwest part of Okushiri Island...

Botan flew top-speed towards the Kyujimayama Observatory, exchanging places with Sayuri since that was under the northeast quadrant's jurisdiction.

Right behind her, riding shotgun, was a tired Yahiko Myojin, who was conserving his strength for the battle ahead against the Chojin's so-called conduit of power.

As soon as they got confirmation of where Houji the Onmyouji hid, they flew up in the sky under Kurama's orders while Natsuki herself met up with Likka in order to run interference against the incoming Karasu and Kuronue (a replacement Shin Ju along with Toguro Ani).

Even better, they stopped bothering to hide in the clouds for fear of aerial strikes after both Natsuki and Daiji neutralized their targets.

The Yutaro reincarnation blasted away Karasu (who could make flying Trace Eye bombs) and the Aoshi reincarnation trapped both Gein (Kaoru didn't remember who that was) and Houji (Kaoru heard of him through Sanosuke) inside a sealed, castle-like structure.

Now was the perfect opportunity for them to strike Houji down before finishing off the rest of the Shin Juppon Gatana and rescuing Okushiri from being under siege by the Chojin.

However, the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

Instead of them going straight to the sealed Houji, the Chojin's top minion apparently decided to go after them instead.

"What the hell is that, Tanuki-chan!?"

The top portion of the castle of spires proceeded to float towards Botan and Yahiko like some sort of alien ship or U.F.O.

The monument to their success had now become the flying tombstone of their imminent doom.

Jaki laser beams then blasted through the windowless structure, creating windows and doors.

"AHHH! Retreat!" screamed Botan while the Kaoru inside her head wondered how ordinary humans from the Meiji Era could take on something as ridiculous as a floating sky fortress.

***

Before the Kokuryuha could completely sublimate or at least carbonize Usui to the point of Gein needing to create a new body for him, Kuronue blinked into existence and pushed him aside in order to take the full brunt of the Demon World equivalent of a nuclear warhead.

"...Kuronue!" Kurama shouted out at the bat demon, concerned with the wellbeing of his former partner-in-crime despite their circumstances.

Then a curious thing happened.

Kuronue turned into a shadow in the street. Only for another him to (re)appear, who also turned into ash. Another him then replaced him, dying from the flames of the black dragon conflagration. Then another. Then another.

The bat demon died probably a dozen more times before Hiei thought it prudent to return the flames into his arm as tattoos, sealing them. Not willing to let Kurama's partner from millennia ago waste more of his demon energy.

After the present Kuronue gasped his dying breath, a new him took his place, completely healthy and unharmed.

What the hell was going on?

Even Kurama was shaken by the proceedings. He had heard Natsuki's explanation about Kuronue's new powers relayed to him by Sayaka's communicator, but even then he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw it in action.

Was it instantaneous resurrection powers like with Toguro Ani? Clones, like with Suzaku? Or even hypnotic illusions, like with Likka Ikumi and Jine Udo?

The Kuronue whom Kurama knew that died because of a bamboo trap never had such powers. Granted, he was a much weaker demon around that time. But still.

"Uh... Usui, was it?" said Kuronue to Usui. "You should be more careful when fighting Kurama. He's a sneaky one, you see. Don't let him figure you out or else he'll get you killed. It's rare for him to get overwhelmed, like in the case of that one S-Level Reikai Tantei or the Reikai Boueitai."

Uonuma harrumphed. "Ah, so it's you, newbie. Don't get full of yourself. You were only revived by the Chojin because you're the only guy we know who could deal with Youko Kurama's cunning. Udo Jine was supposed to fill the role of Achilles' heel to Kurama, but he ultimately failed and got killed by him."

The bat demon could only laugh. "Haaai (Yeees). Read you loud and clear, sempai (upperclassman)."

Hiei then told the blonde shinigami, ""You better leave now if you don't want to get hurt."

Uchiko said, "But you're not yet finished healing...! Ah. You know what? Fine. Whatever." She then made her exit using her floating scythe as her means of transportation instead of a long boat paddle.

Kurama and Hiei backed away unto each other's sides while both Uonuma and Kuronue loomed towards them, their weapons at the ready.

The Tinbe had already started to reconstruct itself. The gambit Kurama used to weaken it couldn't be used twice now that Usui was aware of how his trick worked.

"Is that really Kuronue or just another imposter?" Hiei asked Kurama, remembering the Meikai (Nether World) god who impersonated the bat demon to mess with the youko's head.

"I'm afraid that's him," Kurama said, his smile looking more like a wincing grimace. "And yes, he does know me like the back of his hand."

"Hn," said Hiei. "Then the same could be said with you to him, right?"

Minamino turned towards his fire demon companion and smiled. "Yes, of course."

Multiple Kuronue "clones" served as Usui's meat shield as his actual shield continued reconstituting its cracked surface, with it now strong enough to resist the Kokuryuha and perhaps even Demon World Moss.

"What's going on? Is Usui using Jine's Jagan again?" asked Hiei.

"No, I don't think so," said Kurama. "From what I remember, Jine's hypnosis affected one person at a time. I'm not sure if Usui evolved the Jagan enough to affect multiple people or create mirages like with Ikumi Likka's powers."

Hiei grunted. Before them was a scene reminiscent of one of the Dai Shin Kan (Great Priests), whose name escaped him at the moment, multiplying endlessly. 'It was Something-Yatsume who did it,' he thought.

Was multiple cloning the M.O. of the Overfiend?

Was it his way of showing his undead army of Dai Kaijin (Great Monsters) were as unlimited as a pestilence of voracious pests? Like a swarm of locusts or a mischief of rats? Unkillable like an intrusion of roaches?

He even heard from his communicator that the same thing happened with Gein and his Iwanbo meat puppets with the assistance of the Onmyouji, which forced Detective Matsudaira to seal them off inside a windowless, spire-filled prison.

Did they intend to infest the world like a plague, from Kuronue to Suzaku or even the Iwanbos of Gein and the Shikigami of the Onmyouji?

Hiei was sick of this clone nonsense but knew that using up his Kokuryuha wasn't in his best interests.

Kurama murdered several shadow clones of his partner, only to succumb to cuts and slices to his neck, abdomen, and thigh. This reminded him of his fight with the Fake Kuronue. That Meikai God did a convincing impression of his old friend.

But this time he was fighting the real deal, and none of his tricks were working against him.

"Rejoice, Youko!" said one of the Kuronues. "When the Chojin snatched me up from the depths of Hell, he told me he did so because he saw you as a threat. You were the only one who wielded the Demon Sword and used it to boost your powers to X-Level."

Kurama frowned, decapitating that one Kuronue and countless others with his Rose Kusarigama. "Who cares about being X-Level?"

Usui shook his head. "Fool! I'd jump at the chance to be as powerful as the Chojin himself! The only X-Level in existence at present! More powerful than the most powerful of the Demon World! You could've single-handedly killed the Shin Ju if you had that kind of power! Save everyone on the Human World you so love! Why do you deny greatness?"

The Youko inside Kurama chuckled, and for a split second his true form emerged. "What's the fun in that? Something given is taken for granted. Something earned is treasured."

The horde of Kuronues laughed upon hearing this and chorused, "Ah, now that's the Youko I know and love."

Hiei also chopped and burned the Kuronues before him with his Jaou-En-Satsu Ken. The sword had flames that, unbeknownst to him, were reminiscent of Shishio's Homura Dama.

The jaganshi did know enough about the Shin Ju to realize that doing the Sword of Darkness Flame would only entice Usui to fight even with his unfinished Tinbe.

The risk of fighting someone with the power of hypnosis was high, but as long as the brilliant and prepared Kurama had his back, Hiei had no fear against such hallucinations.

Whether they were from Kuronue or Usui.

Kuronue continued, "As one of the Chojin's Dai Kaijin, I then developed newfound abilities to help me take you out in the best way possible, Youko. Knowing you, the only way anyone can defeat you is if they're given unlimited retries to do so. You're a cunning fox. Most people would die a thousand deaths first before they can find an opening to take you down. So I chose to develop that kind of power."

Hiei had to admit that that sounded about right. You did not want the Youko as your enemy.

Using the brief rise of energy elicited by Kuronue's tempting words about gaining X-Level through the Youtou Shinnoken, Kurama turned a single stalk of bamboo into the Hydra Bamboo once more.

This weaponized plant of Kurama's was bamboo on "steroids" that multiplied twice for every stalk you cut down. Just like the legendary Hydra of yore. The only ways to kill it involved overcrowding it with other plants or by burning it to the point of carbonization.

The forest of bamboo pierced through the hearts, lungs, stomachs, muscles, intestines, livers, kidneys, and brains of the nearest gathered Kuronues while the rest scattered away like disturbed flies on shit. Or bats, since he was a bat demon.

"Hiei, NOW! While we still have the chance! Kill Uonuma Usui! I'll figure out a way to deal with Kuronue later."

The jagan user charged with his flame sword, able to keep the Hydra Bamboo at bay with his burning slices and cuts so that he wouldn't get overwhelmed himself by the deadly malignant forest.

He wasn't able to kill the half-healed Uonuma earlier but now he should be able to fare better against the blind man's half-formed turtle shield. His airtight defense earlier was now broken in half.

Usui's supernatural hearing and enhanced reflexes allowed him to block Hiei's 17 fire sword strikes in one second.

However, that one second of blocking was the opening the fire demon needed in order to blast a Dragon of Darkness Flame straight into the night sky before it came crashing from behind Uonuma while he busily defended against the Sword of Darkness Flame.

One of the Kuronues ended up protecting Usui from the rear, his chain scythe weapon turning into an iron mine's worth of steel that melted from the heat of the Black Dragon Spirit Wave Technique, which in turn flooded the bamboo forest with fiery molten metal.

Also, the Tinbe had by now reformed two-thirds of itself instead of only half, with it having a pie-sized opening left on an otherwise complete turtle shell shield.

They were running out of time.

The Spirit World Warriors would be back to square one or worse if the Onmyouji managed to escape Daiji's seal before Yahiko could get to him and neutralize his connection with the Almighty Chojin.

Again, Kurama used the Invasive Kudzu Grass to smother and eat the fire away, making it grow with the same uncontrollable rate as the Hydra Bamboo had over being sliced or physically torn apart.

Kuronue said, "I've seen that technique of yours before as well!"

From there, one set of Kuronues served as gardeners who chopped and diced up the Invasive Kudzu before it could absorb enough energy to become a problem, with them even sacrificing several of their own in the process.

Another set of Kuronues kept the blaze of the growing forest fire alive, filling the air with smoke and flames that burned up the mutated bamboo before it could grow enough to become unstoppable.

Unlike the mindless puppets of Gein and the Nameless Yatsume, Kuronue's phantoms had a frightening hivemind that learned from every mistake they made and adjusted thusly with every new generation of himself.

One Kuronue branched out into multiple versions of himself, thusly exploring infinite possibilities.

The Quantum Kuronue.

Maybe Kurama should've gotten hold of the Demon Sword and finished all the Shin Ju off with one or ten slashes. A potential eleventh slash for the Onmyouji.

But that was the boring way of doing things. And Kurama loved a challenge. How should he solve this puzzle that Kuronue suddenly became?

Besides which, Kurama noticed that Hiei had been hiding one more ace up his sleeve all this time. An ace that the Shin Ju were probably also aware of, but had yet to experience firsthand.

Hiei backed off from Usui's Rochin stab, sheathing his sword and adopting the same battoujutsu or iaido (sword-drawing) stance that Himura Battousai was known for.

The whole park had become a mess. One part of it was composed of burning bamboo and molten metal that had started to harden.

The other part was filled with bits and pieces of kudzu grass reaped by scythes, with several of them allowed by the Kuronues to eat the remaining red and black flames, thus controlling the blaze.

That was one helluva landscaping job Kuronue did.

The army of Kuronues then remerged into one body, awaiting the next attack from Kurama to occur that they'd then dissect and deconstruct.

Once Uonuma's Tinbe was completed, nothing in their arsenal would be able to take down his defensive turtle shield.

The shell had already tasted every last technique they could throw at it, from Demon World Moss to Makai Flames. Everything but the kitchen sink.

Regardless Hiei flickered into action and Kuronue multiplied once more.

Usui lay in wait, his Shingan soaking in all the different noises surrounding him yet his supernatural senses able to distinguish which ones were the Kuronues and which ones were Hiei.

He also screamed, "Hey, Newbie! When you decapitate the fire demon, make sure to keep his Jagan intact! I need that!"

Kurama walked calmly towards the chaos of burning bamboo, chopped kudzu grass, a self-contained forest fire, and what seemed like an army of Kuronue converging into what appeared to the naked eye as empty space but instead was actually a supersonic Hiei.

He then snatched the jewel necklace hanging from the neck of (one of the many clones of) Kuronue.

The youko figured out the new powers that the Chojin bestowed upon Kuronue. All of his clones were the real him.

On a quantum level, Kuronue managed to exist in multiple planes of existence and manifest himself in one reality, allowing some of his selves to die and his other selves to live at the same time in an infinite loop.

It enabled him to interact in one dimension in a multi-dimensional manner, so that he could do one, two, three, or more things at the same time until he succeeded in a given instance, his realities branching forth endlessly as he explored every possibility.

For a schemer like Kurama who tended to finish off opponents with cunning and wit, this new version of Kuronue was an absolute nightmare to handle. He was like Yusuke. Creative. Unpredictable. Chaotic.

An honest demon who'd never attack you from behind but knew every trick in the book because he was an expert in unraveling mysteries, traps, techniques, and lies. He loved figuring out the truth behind everything.

The same bat demon who ended up dying, ensnared by the simplest and most primitive of bamboo traps due to his immense sense of sentiment, which was ironic and truly unbecoming of someone as clever as him.

Kuronue should've known better.

Kurama figured out that the Meikai God who impersonated the Fake Kuronue was a fake with the way he discarded the jewel around his neck.

In the same vein, he knew this Kuronue was the real deal when he... all of him... scrambled for the jewel with a high amount of sentimental value to him.

The seeming dozens—perhaps even hundreds or more—of Kuronues all jumped at grabbing hold of the jewel Kurama threw away in the same manner that the Meikai God Kaiki did.

This was the opportunity Hiei was waiting for.

"Jaou-En-Satsu KOKURYUHA!"

***

Thousands of years ago...

A bloodied young Kuronue cackled with gnashed teeth and a raspy throat at Youko Kurama and his bloodstained claws.

Maimed but not broken. His body scourged with lacerations. His limbs flopping uselessly on the floor.

His clenched teeth gripping the string of a necklace.

The leader of the demon bandits looked at the bat demon with disdain and confusion. The kid managed to steal a necklace from their haul.

"Why are you so happy? That's just a trinket compared to the countless treasures we've gathered," Youko Kurama said with a toss of his silken hair.

On shaky legs, Kuronue rose up, his bloody back on the craggy wall. "If it was so insignificant, you wouldn't have almost killed me to get it back."

Kurama raised his clawed hand, the constant lightning from Makai's dark clouds illuminating his silhouette. "Would you die for that necklace?"

Again, through clenched teeth, Kuronue spoke. "What an honor it would be to do so. Let me die a martyr. Let me be known as the one demon who outwitted the Legendary Youko Kurama."

Kurama changed his mind then and there. He put down his raised arm, turned, and walked away.

"HEY! Are you just going to let me go, you coward?" Kuronue spat, which led to him accidentally dropping the necklace. He then went on a mad scramble for it, willing his trembling arms to catch the jewelry.

"Rest up. Heal your wounds. You're now part of my bandits. Bring my jewel along with you," commanded the youko. "We hunt in the next earth day."

After finally grabbing hold of the jewel, Kuronue demanded, "And if I refuse?"

While still facing away from him, Kurama turned his head and gave the bat demon a sidelong glance. "I don't think you will."

From that point forth, the youko ended up with an ally more valuable than the trinket he stole from him.

***

The Dragons of Darkness Flames killed every last one of the Kuronue doppelgangers with its youki-infused flames from the Demon World burning them to sublimation at an atomic level.

Kurama went down on his knees, exhausted. He'd lost a lot of blood from his war with what seemed like a thousand Kuronues converging at him at once.

However, in the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he saw at least one Kuronue move out of the Kokuryuha's line of sight.

If a Kuronue had survived, then there was at least a one in a hundred/thousand possibility that if Kurama had thrown away that necklace, he wouldn't have gone after it.

Kuronue was learning. Changing. Evolving.

Kurama smiled. At least something good came out of the Chojin's plans to revive their dead enemies/comrades to use against them.

***

To Be Continued...

I based Kuronue's new powers on the version of Kuronue featured in my first-ever fan fiction, "Shonen". Something about the (watered-down for fiction version of the) Many-World Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics with a dash of Schrödinger's Cat thrown into the mix.

The boss battle is fast approaching, but those mini-bosses can be quite the handful!

Ciao, Abdiel

#king #king of fighters #hiei #kurama #yuyu hakusho #幽☆遊☆白書 #rurouni kenshin #るろうに剣心 #demon sword #youtou shinnoken #妖刀真の剣

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venusxxlangdon · 5 years

Text

Of Mice & Snakes. Part Two — The Mice

pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader x Tom Riddle

warnings: crossover, third-person narration, character death, smut, dub-con, dirty talk, fingering, oral (male receiving)

words: 11.5k

summary: The Dark Lord and his gray eminence are coming to end the regular world order. While the Slytherin Heir might have already put the crown on his head, keep in mind that it’s the Knight (Michael Langdon) who’s the most powerful on the grand chessboard of the wizarding war. When money, power, glory, and love collide, what will win in the end?

mood board by the one and only @micheallangdons

“No, please, don’t! No! Pleaaase!” Her deafening scream pierced through the thick, fetid air of the pit. She clawed onto the muddy walls, but her fingers slipped and she ended up falling to her knees, smearing the dirt all over her bony kneecaps and bruised thighs. The squelching sound of mud and mucus rang in her ears and mixed with the threatening hissing behind her. She squeezed her eyes and let out a desperate animalistic howl, trying with all her might not to look over her shoulder and see them — two huge serpents making their way to her small, trembling body.

“Did you miss us, kitty?” Her blood ran cold at the sudden sound of a human voice echoing in her head. Her body jolted up, and she covered her ears with her dirty hands, but she could still feel the snakes approach her, come closer, their boneless bodies gliding along the ground. Like a trapped bird, a little prey with no chances of survival, her mind tried to come up with some, any plan to get out of this nightmare, but every thought was hammering against the gold cage of her subconscious without the slightest idea of the possible escape.

Her heart raced like mad, pumping the thick blood, shackled with fear, through her veins.

“Go away!” She cried out and whirled around, facing the beasts. Her breath hitched at the sight of the snakes with their big heads swaying slightly from side to side as if they were trying to hypnotize her. One of them was jet back, with the silver scale on its head, and the other was emerald green with spikes. She knew it was a dream, but the creatures looked so real, that the thought of actually dying there and never being able to wake up crossed her paralyzed mind.

The serpents had become the frequent guest of her nightmares, none of which had been as realistic as the current one. She looked up at the rift above her head, through which a faint streak of light was coming. It was too high for her to reach. Having moved the gaze of her wide eyes back at the snakes, she gulped heavily. Their maws were not moving, but she still could hear their voices. They were whispering something like “we are coming, we want you, you are ours”.

She put her hands in front of her and leaned forward, standing on all fours, digging her fingers into the goo; her hair covered her face like curtains. A shiver ran down her spine as she noticed from the corner of her eyes that the serpents had come closer, they were several inches away from her, their forked tongues darting out. There was only one way to end this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Empty yourself from emotions,” she heard Snape’s voice and tried to concentrate on it as if it was the lively beacon that could guide her through the nightmare. Her nostrils flared when she felt the beasts crawl closer, facing her. She knew if she opened her eyes she would be welcomed with the stare of two pairs of slit-like eyes.

She had never been good at controlling her emotions, but at that moment, on the verge of death, she had to do it. Although it was almost impossible to calm the racing heartbeat down, she tried to tell herself to relax. At least a little bit, so her mind could jostle her out of the lucid dream. She gasped at the blow of cool air fanning over her ears.

“Y/N...” they hissed, “silly, little girl...”

And then...

“Legilimency,” another voice drawled, and a blinding spark of light flashed before her eyes.

She shook her head violently, resisting the intruder. A pounding headache shot through her temples — it felt like as if someone was trying to cruelly scatter her thoughts and memories all over the ballroom of her mind and destruct her from her attempts to gain control over her subconsciousness. It became harder to breathe as if her lungs were held with a steel vice.

She ran the tip of her tongue along her dry, chapped lips and grunted through the gritted teeth, “Protego!”

A loud, primeval scream bordering on terror that rippled through her sweaty body and shattered her brain, made the blood drain from her face, and before she was aware of making a conscious decision, her legs were pounding furiously in the mud.

Her body bolted up in bed, and her wide eyes welcomed the darkness of the Prefects’ bedroom. She was panting heavily, her mouth rigid and open, her face gaunt and sulky, fists clenched with blanched knuckles. Her mind was still in the snake pit, so it took her a while to focus her eyes on the small window in the opposite wall that gave the view of the silver band of the Black Lake sprawled out in the distance. With a look of disgust, she glanced at her nightgown clinging to her body and hooked her fingers under the hem of her collar to take it off. She ran her fingers through her messy hair and slid her hands over the chiseled lines of her face, scratching her flushed cheeks as if she wanted to rip her skin off to get rid of the crawling feeling under it. She sighed and hanged her legs off the bed, placing her feet on the thick emerald green carpet.

“Aguamenti,” she whispered and poured some water into a tall glass on her desk. It was down in one gulp, and as she put the glass back onto the polished surface, she leaned her hip against the corner of the oak table and blankly stared through the window, her back slouching.

Why was it all happening to her? Standing there with her toes flinching on the carpet pile, she reminisced to that ill-omened day when she found the accursed diary in her bag. Why was the universe so merciless to her? The moral cancer of dispiritedness had been eating into her heart for months, turning her into a malignant ball of fear.

The burden of silence had become unbearable at some point and after she had heard the mysterious whisper calling her name in the hallway on her way to class, she decided it was time to share what had happened to her in the Chamber of Secrets at least with someone, otherwise, she would have gone mental. Winona Flint, who had seen the diary when that second-year student brought it to Y/N on the following day after the incident, was the first person the girl shared her experience with. Well, not in detail, of course. Fling’s reaction was quite predictable — as a reasonable witch, she told Y/N that the best thing to do was to let Dumbledore, or Snape, whom she always had a good relationship with, know. Little did Winona know that the poor thing was too scared and worried that the professors could find out that she had been fucked by two entities and really enjoyed it. When she admitted that shameful fact to herself, she forswore that she would never discuss it again.

She tried to get rid of the diary. On one of the gloomy Sunday mornings Winona and Y/N went to the backyard and spent two hours trying different charms to destroy the artifact.

“Insendio!” She pointed her wand at the diary. The lively flames licked the hardcover, turning the grass around it into yellow patches of straw. When the fire went out, it revealed the notebook without any slightest traces of distortion. Not even a scratch was made.

They tried to find something about the diary in the library, but eventually, lost their privilege of using the Restricted Section. Irma Pince, the librarian and Study Hall observer, tracked the search history of the archives and demanded the explanation of why two Slytherin students had been fishing for the information about the darkest artifacts.

The rules became stricter as more students were attacked by the mysterious creature. All Prefects were told to be more attentive to the first and second-year students, who always tended to sneak out late at night, and make sure that everyone was in their dorms after curfew. No matter how hard the professors had been trying to cover what was happening in Hogwarts up, panic started to rise in a geometrical progression. Scared students wrote letters to their parents about the “weird atmosphere at school” and some of them even stayed home after Christmas break.

The usual spirit of mirth and joy that had always reigned in the Great Hall was replaced by the dark and gloomy atmosphere. Even the candles flowing in the air seemed depressive as if they were mourning the petrified victims.

Everything went downhill after the first death. Ginny Weasley, a Gryffindor student and one of many Weasleys who were studying at Hogwarts, was found dead in the abandoned bathroom. It was the day when the Headmaster made the tragic news public. The reporters from Daily Prophet and other magazines flooded the castle like locusts. Rita Skeeter was in her element, interviewing Gryffindor students and then Molly and Arthur Weasley whose hysterical cries could be heard from afar.

“I heard she had asked them if they were sad because they lost a chance to be a part of that Family program Mr. Weasley had applied for last summer,” said Cedric Diggory to one of his mates, and Y/N who was leaning against the doorway and watching Ms. Skeeter pose with the crying Weasleys, snapped her head at him.

“Are you serious?” She asked in disbelief, and to her disappointment, Cedric nodded.

“I’m telling you,” he glanced at the woman, “she’s fucking sick.” They all simultaneously looked back at the blonde woman who was flashing her pearly white teeth at the camera.

Y/N frowned. How easy it was for one person to depreciate other people’s grief. In times when they all were in danger, unity was supposed to be the only thing that could help them, yet the voice of one of the most famous newspapers belonged to a heartless bitch who would never learn such words as sorrow, sympathy, and support.

Over the past months, death had become a frequent visitor of Y/N's life. The familiar feeling of distress and pity that had been eating her from the inside like a nasty warm reminded her about itself on the following morning after she had been awoken by the nightmare. It filled her body like quicksilver, making every limb of hers heavy, nearly pinning her to the wooden floor. Looking through the small window, she was watching the faint sunlight trying to break through the thick blanket of the grey sky that was looming over Hogwarts. What if she was next? She could feel something inside of her, crawling its way out — the sickening fear of the unknown. She highly doubted that Tom and Michael were done with her, but it was not the worry about herself that made her insides flutter in terror. She cared about her family and the thought that something could happen to them was making her head spin. She wanted to make sure that her mom and dad were okay thus she was sending them letters every three days, asking if everything was alright. Every time her white owl brought the yellow envelope tied to its clawed paw, the feeling of relief washed over her.

When Ginny died Y/N's mother wanted her to go home as soon as she could, but the girl had a strong feeling that she would not be safe away from Dumbledore and other professors. Besides, she could not use magic outside Hogwarts without passing her O.W.Ls*, so it was another reason why she chose not to leave.

Having pushed the buttons of her white shirt into the holes and pulling them through absentmindedly, she got dressed and span around on her heels to take her black cloak with a green serpent adorning the breast pocket. She adjusted the cuffs and took a deep breath. How the hell she was supposed to go through the day when every fiber of her body was paralyzed with anxiety? The collar of her shirt felt too tight, suffocating; the laces of her shoes were like shackles, making every step torturously heavy, and the corners of her eyes tingled with upcoming tears. She ran her bony fingers through her messy hair nervously in a weak attempt to calm down.

There were going to be so many people, and the professors would be watching her like hawks — she could already feel their stares and it made her physically uncomfortable, so she hugged herself tightly and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Unfortunately, she could not spend all day in the bedroom no matter how badly she wanted to do so. It was the day that would go down in history, and she should have been there to witness it. Probably one of the most important things the Slytherin House had taught her was the ability to wear a mask of a stone-cold detachment on her face even in times of grief.

She cleared her throat, shrugged her shoulders as if she wanted to brush the weight of the burden off of her shoulders and made her way to the door. When she wrapped her fingers around the silver knob and twisted it, opening the door with a helpless squeaky sound, she froze and looked over her shoulder at the nightstand by her bed. That was where she had been keeping the diary, which no longer belonged to her. Dumbledore confiscated it from her on the day she confessed that she knew what creature had petrified the students.

“There’s no guarantee she’s telling the truth, Headmaster,” her haze lingered over Snape’s pale fingers gripping onto the arms of the chair she was sitting in with such force that his knuckles bled white. He kneeled before her and looked her in the eyes through the greasy strands of his raven black hair. She shivered under his stare and looked away, focusing her attention on Dumbledore who was walking around the room with his hands behind his back. “Truth serum will give a loose to her tongue.”

“Severus, she’s not an enemy,” professor McGonagall intervened, arching her thin eyebrow in a reproachful manner, “miss Y/L/N is your student and her reputation is implacable.”

The remark did not seem to convince Professor Snape who knew more about the dark arts than anyone in the headmaster’s office.

“We’re dealing with dark magic,” Snape hissed, his eyes still glued to Y/n’s face overshadowed with fear, uncertainty, and shame. She slouched her back and looked down at her trembling hands, that were clutching onto the hem of her pleated skirt, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable that McGonagall’s heart sank. “Why all of a sudden miss Y/L/N decided to bless us with her confession?” He narrowed his snake-like eyes at Y/N. “Who is going to prove that she is not their ally...”

Her head flew up so unexpectedly that it made professor Snape recoil in surprise. Her wide, e/c eyes looked at him in disbelief. How could he even think such things of her? Her mind went back to the humiliation she had gone through in the Chamber of Secrets and the grievance of the unfairness washed over her. Why did she have to deal with false accusations when it was /her/ who should have been protected and taken care of? Her bottom lip started trembling, the omen of an approaching tantrum.

“Severus, that’s enough!” Dumbledore barked and raised his right hand, calling for silence. For a second the only sound disturbing them was the ticking of numerous magic objects in headmaster’s office and Y/N's quiet sobs. He squatted to her level, the draped fabric of his long, lilac gown polling around him, and softly touched her hand.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she started, hesitantly looking into the older man’s watery eyes that were studying her face attentively through his half-moon spectacles. There was something in his gaze that made her visibly relax — the noble calmness of wisdom and understanding. “I swear to Merlin, it wasn’t me... I just...”

She didn’t finish because of the lump in her throat and uncontrollable tears she had not even noticed at first.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” his voice was croaky, yet managed to sound gentle, “please, tell us if Tom and Michael had told you when they were going to come back?”

That question had been bothering her ever since. It felt like every day had turned into the exhausting waiting for Riddle and Langdon to strike. As she walked out of the Prefect’s bedroom, she made sure to check if the hallway was clear and only then headed out to where every student was going. To the Courtyard. The lapels of her school gown rustled with every step; she shoved her hands into the pockets and wrapped her fingers around the wooden handle of her wand — the small gesture made her feel safer.

“Good morning, Mister Nicholas,” she greeted the Gryffindor ghost who pouted unhappily in response.

“Hardly, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“I’m sorry for the loss of your house,” she added, but the Nearly Headless Nick only shrugged and disappeared into the nearest wall. She bit her lip thinking how awkward it was for her to express condolences. She felt somewhat embarrassed by such things because it was difficult to find the right words that would not be too sentimental and too formal at the same time.

The soft flames of the torches hanging on the walls were casting shadows on her face. The sound of her steps echoed through the semi-empty hallway matching the drumming of her racing heart. As she got closer to her destination, the sound of voices humming in the distance became clearer. Her nerves were tight as the violin strings when she made the last turn and the numerous rows of chairs, placed all over the yard, came in sight. She pushed her way through the crowd of students toward Slytherin pews.

Thick grey clouds moved in the afternoon sky, kissed into brilliant white by the sun. She pulled the collar of her cloak a bit higher to cover her neck — the chilly air made her a bit cold. She looked around, spotting a messy mane of bright ginger hair of Ron Weasley next to Hermione’s head. The kids were sitting next to each other, wiping off tears with the back of their palms.

“Today we have gathered to acknowledge a terrifying loss,” Dumbledore’s voice thundered, drawing everyone’s attentioт. “Harry Potter was, as you all know, exceptionally hard-working, intricately fair-minded, and loyal student. But most importantly he was a great friend, Hogwarts Quidditch champion, and the outstanding young man with the bright future ahead of him. Only a few of you know how he died, so before we proceed to say goodbyes I would like to tell you about Mr. Potter’s heroic act of bravery. He was killed by two former Hogwarts students,” a shocked whisper rolled through the crowd, and Dumbledore had to wait until everyone calmed out.

“Heroic? I bet Potter slipped and banged his stupid head,” Draco Malfoy smirked addressing Crabbe and Goyle who immediately nodded in agreement. “My father says Dumbledore will do his best to present the story in the best light with a bow on top.”

Y/N leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. The boy looked back and raised his brows at her.

“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna take ten points from Slytherin,” she sneered, feeling annoyed.

Malfoy pursed his thin lips in disgust; he looked at her hand still placed on his shoulder and shrugged it off.

“That’s robbery,” he noted, giving her a sidelong glance, “you aren’t going to take the points from your house, are you?”

“Try me.”

He was about to say something but the headmaster’s voice cut him off.

“Michael Langdon and Tom Riddle, whom you may know as Lorde Voldemort, were Slytherin students many years ago. With the help of a dark artifact they had managed to trap their souls in the Chamber of Secrets and waited many years to come back.” At the mentioning of Riddle’s and Langdon’s names Y/N shivered. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and leaned back into the chair, wishing she could disappear. Deep inside of her, she felt extremely guilty for Harry’s death. If she had told the professors about Tom and Michael it would have been possible to avoid many victims.

“Harry Potter was killed by the person whose attack he had once survive. The dark times are coming. All students will be dismissed before the official end of the semester, the exams are to postponed until the next school year...”

Hot tears of feebleness burned in the corners of her eyes and she had to look up at the grey sky to let them dry. That was the moment when she noticed how weirdly the clouds were gliding along the silvery surface. The grey hues obscured the sky, covering the last patches of where the faint light tried to get through. The unexpected sound of thunder interrupted Dumbledore’s speech and made everyone lift their heads. A violent gust of wind raised a pile of leaves and swirled it in the vortex — Y/N had to cover her face with the palm.

“Look!” Pansy Parkinson exclaimed and pointed at the patch of darkness that erupted from the sky in the form of a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. The Courtyard was shaken with a loud CRASH. Y/N turned her head at the source of the sound, and her eyes widened at the sight of a huge fiery ball flying in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Many people were only just realizing that something strange had happened.

“What is going on?” Someone shouted and the helpless cry died down in the noise of the extended thunder that was coming from beneath the ground. The concrete floors started to crack.

“Holy shit.” Y/N cussed and drew her wand. Panic ensued quickly as the ground shook up and down as if the entire place suddenly fell from the sky. Scared students rushed to the main entrance of the castle.

“Everyone, go inside! Now!” Professor Dumbledore cried out. “To the dungeons! Use the passageway to Hogsmeade. Prefects, listen to your deans for the further instructions!”

Y/N was pushed away and nearly got swept off her feet. She saw the smoke transform into tall, dark figures whose faces were covered with silver masks adorned with arabesque ornament. Her heart skipped a beat; she could feel the sweat drench her skin, and the ringing screams vibrating in her ears. She got a strong grip on her wand and curled the fingers of her other hand into a fist, nails digging into her palm. Pushing through the crowd, she made her way to the stairs ignoring the conciseness that was telling her to fulfill her duty as a Prefect and help the students. Images of her nightmare flashed before her eyes, and she gulped heavily, realizing that they came for her. Fear engulfed her body, churning her stomach in cramps. The only thought “Run! Get out!” was pounding in her head like a gong. The only person she cared about at that moment was herself.

Her scream from deep within that forced its way from her mouth was so loud that she had to press her palm to her lips to muffle it. Her eyes widened at the body of a student that fell before her feet. She looked back and gasped at the sight of the Courtyard ignited by the flashes of green, red and white lights.

She sped up making her way to the Pendulum and then behind it toward the big wooden door. “To the left, and then forward, then again to the left” she was running faster than the wind, her mind racing. The plan she had come up with the other day was not thought out, in fact, she did not have any plan besides having her bag packed and kept in the wardrobe in case of emergency. She headed out to the Prefects’ bedrooms to pick it up and then go to the secret passageway to Hogsmead where she could apparate from.

She stormed into her bedroom, the heavy door swinging open. She slammed it shut with a loud noise and locked it from the inside. Only when her back felt the wooden surface she let herself take an erratic breath. Her eyes skimmed through the room and she stopped her gaze at the big wardrobe that stood proudly against the wall. Her trembling fingers rummaged through the piles of neatly folded clothes; she grabbed the bag and tossed on the floor beside her.

Suddenly she heard a noise behind the door and turned her head at it worryingly, instinctively gripping her wand tightly. The short hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end when the door flew open with a loud noise, and the clouds of dust obscured her vision, filling her nostrils. She started coughing, and before she could mutter “Protego!” someone’s familiar, stern voice said “Expelliarmus,” disarming her. Her wand fell from her grip and landed several feet away from her.

As soon as the dust cleared, two tall figures walked into the room. Both were wearing the same masks she had seen on those wizards who had appeared at the Courtyard. They took them off with a delicate flick of their glove-clad hands, and a strangled yelp left Y/N’s lips when she saw who was in front of her. The arabesque masks revealed the features of those who she had been trying to forget all that time. It seemed like they had got even more handsome. Michael’s blonde hair styled in short, soft waves looked almost silver in the light that was splashing through the small window. His locks and vibrant blue eyes emphasized the beauty of his porcelain skin. He had a subtle hint of blush on his cheeks which she had not noticed in the Chamber of secrets. He was alive. Michael Langdon stood before her in flesh.

She moved her gaze at Tom starring at her with his rigid and cold eyes. The color of them matched the shade of his hair of the purest ink. She made a couple of steps backward but impaled herself onto the corner of the nightstand that hit her hip painfully.

“Well, well, well,” Tom said in a sing-song voice, and her insides fluttered. He looked around the room and pressed his lips into a tight line. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s not polite to hide from your friends, sweetheart.”

She wrapped her trembling fingers around the lamp on the nightstand and pointed it at Tom in a threatening manner.

“Don’t you dare do anything to me,” she hissed, her eyes traveling back and forth from Michael to Tom. From Tom to Michael.

“Michael, seal the door,” Riddle ordered without looking at Langdon and made a couple of steps toward her. She shivered at the feeling of the weird deja vu — everything resembled her nightmare, except for the human guise of Tom and Michael. “We don’t want Dumbledore to interrupt our fun, don’t we?” He arched his brow at Y/N.

“What do you want from me?” Her question came off as a piercing screech.

“You want me to announce the list?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. Tom thrived off of the sight of her trembling lips and bright, e/c eyes gleaming with tears.

“I don’t understand,” she sobbed, “Why me? I didn’t do anything, I...” She froze to her spot when the sudden memory of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets flashed before her eyes. She saw herself with her legs wide open, Tom thrusting into her worked up ass, and Michael taking her soaked pussy. She had been trying to forget it, the delicious stretch of both of her holes and intoxicating smell of the boys, for months. She was looking at Riddle with wide eyes and then she realized that he had sent that vision to her on purpose.

Y/N shook her head and imagined a stone wall surrounding her mind. It was another trick professor Snape had taught her to block her subconscious from Tom’s intrusion. Anger flashed in Riddle’s eyes when she shut him out of her thoughts.

“Not bad, not bad,” he hummed, crossing his arms against his chest, “turns out Snape has taught you a thing or two.” It took his long legs just a couple of strides to approach her, his broad figure towering over her. “We would’ve never thought that you’d be so stupid and tell Dumbledore about what had happened,” he spat out. “If it hadn’t been you, many students wouldn’t have been at the hospital recovering from Basilisk’s attack.”

He knew what buttons to push. Even though she understood that Tom was aware of her weaknesses only thanks to Occlumency, she still felt guilty. She readjusted her fingers on the handle.

“You could’ve used anyone instead of me, and the outcome would be the same. Now, back off,” She barked and took a swing at him. When she was about to hit him, a pair of strong hands got wrapped around her waist and pushed her forward from the nightstand into Tom’s embrace.

“Not so fast, kitty,” Michael whispered in her ear, his colossal hands landing on her hips. The lamp crashed on the floor, the crystal beads of glass scattering over the emerald green carpet like morning dew.

She cried out and tried to push Tom away, pressing her small hands against his chest, but he did not even flinch. He laced his fingers around her slender wrists, and for a second, she thought he was going to break her bones.

“You are so pretty,” Riddle cooed, tracing the pads of his fingers along her features almost lovingly, ignoring the way she scrunched up her nose at his caresses. His eyes lingered over her face and stopped at her parted lips; he slid his thumb along them. Riddle smirked. “Too bad such a beautiful doll face has no brains,” and with those words, he blew some blue powder in her face.

She did not even have time to process what was going on before a thick blanket of mist clouded her vision. Her eyesight blurred, everything became fuzzy, floating before her. Then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was swimming through a space filled with a thick static.

It was the beginning of the end.

xxx

Slap!

She winced at the harsh tap on her cheek and the pounding headache in her temples. Slowly, as if at any given second her head could explode, she opened her left eye, and then the right one. Everything was unfocused, although she was hyper-away of the fact that there was a wooden surface of the polished floor in front of her face, her left cheek was resting against it. No wonder every muscle of her body was sore and felt as if she had been beaten up for hours — her wrists were tied behind her back, arms bent outward at the most uncomfortable angle, and when she tried to move them, a hot wave of piercing pain shattered her body.

Slap!

Another tap and she let out a muffled moan. Her throat was dry as The Sahara — she gulped heavily and licked her chapped lips.

“That’s enough, Bella,” she closed her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. So it was not a nightmare — they had kidnaped her. “She’s with us.”

A desperate yelp fell from her lips, when someone’s strong hand gripped at the roots of her hair and forced her upper body up from the floor, forcing her to kneel. Her heavy-lidded eyes flew open and she faced a pair of expensive leather shoes and the bare feet of the house elf before her. She traced her eyes higher up the black slacks and the bony, slender frame of a creature that must have been responsible for slapping her. The elf looked angry, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Y/N. Bella looked as if she was ready to rip Y/N’s throat out at any given second if the girl attempted to attack any of her masters.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Michael placed his long fingers under her chin and used his index and thumb to get a strong grip on it. He carefully examined her face. “You gave her too much of that powder, Tom.” Langdon noted critically, tilting her head to the side and pursing his lips disapprovingly at her puffy features. “She shouldn’t be so swollen.”

He looked over his shoulder and she followed his gaze. Riddle was sitting cross-legged on a big velvet armchair, his pale, aristocratic hands resting atop wooden armrests. He pensively rubbed his pointy chin and shrugged.

“It’s the last thing that bothers me. As long as she‘s more appeasable than her father, she shouldn’t have any problems.”

Her whole body bolted up at the mentioning of her dad.

“What did you do to him?” Her hoarse voice roared through the room. It sounded so foreign and raspy that she could barely recognize herself. The elf hissed at her threateningly, but she ignored it. Michael was looking down upon her, a faint smirk ghosting over his plump lips.

“The old man was so sensitive. Couldn’t handle even two minutes of the charming effect of Cruciatus. By the way, he was right at this spot where you are now.” He flashed his perfect teeth at her.

She could not understand what they were talking about. She had been receiving letters from her family every three days. Y/N pressed her lips together.

“If you think that I’ll buy another lie, you fucker...” She spat out and earned one more slap across her reddening cheek.

“Bella, stop,” Langdon rolled his eyes at the elf who did not understand why her Master was so forgiving of the girl’s rudeness. She glanced at him with her big eyes that looked like two baseballs.

“Bella can’t let this filthy girl talk about Master and his friend like that,” she frowned, curling her fingers into tight, little fists.

Langdon hummed and traced his the pads of his fingers over Y/N’s face, barely touching her.

“She’s not filthy, my darling,” he told the elf, and Y/N tried to shy away from his featherlight touch. “She comes from a pure-blood family where there have never been any encounters with muggles. She’s a pure lily-white to some extent,” he muttered.

Y/N did not know how he had known anything about her family. She was a pure-blood witch indeed and knew her family tree by heart because it used to hang next to the crest in the living room of her parents’ mansion where she had grown up. Her father was a famous wandmaker, always competing with a half-blood family of the Ollivanders, the owners of the well-known store located in Diagon Alley. He had a penchant for studying the psychological aspect of wanders, how they chose wizards and the way the core of them resonated with the personalities of their owners. He believed that the wands had souls.

“What happened to my father?” She barked, the slimy hand of fear grasping around her spine. “I received letters from mom, she said everything was fine,” tears tingled in the corners of her eyes.

Tom chuckled, clearly finding her naive nature amusing.

“Your honorable mother writes whatever she’s told,” he explained, “under Confundus. It does wonders to those unwilling to compromise,” as Tom spoke, he was examining his perfectly trimmed nails with a bored look on his face. “As for your father, we needed some information only he could provide us with, but he refused to share it, so...” he smiled carnivorously, “he’s at St. Mungo’s recovering from his visit.”

His words knocked the bottom out of her made-up self-control. Her howl that ranged through the room made the blood of everyone present in the room run cold. A scream of hysteria and disbelief. She wriggled her back trying to get rid of the ropes, but it was impossible — she ended up beating her body against the floor like a fish that needed oxygen. She cried as if her brain was shredded from the inside, the emotional pain of realization that Langdon and Riddle had tortured her father flowed out of her every pore. The living room turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. She could only hear the blood drumming in her ears. Tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. Her throat burnt, forming a scream, her breath got heavier, as she fell on the floor and rolled over on her side. It felt like a part of her was dying inside.

“Oh, c’mon,” Michael scoffed at her lying before him. Y/N looked so helpless that it was getting on his nerves. He stepped aside, afraid that her tears could stain his shoes. “He’s doing alright. Besides, you can help him if you behave and do as you are told.”

Langdon waited till she stopped crying. The girl stared blankly at the wooden surface, letting out small hiccups from time to time. Tom sighed and covered his face with the palm, already regretting having messed with her. A fucking cry baby was on their hands.

“You’re monsters,” she finally whispered and closed her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you and make sure that your death won’t be easy.”

“Sounds like a promise,” Michael mused, “and a good start for the negotiations.”

The next moment she found herself sitting on a chair, hands still tired securely. She looked over the shoulder and noticed that the ropes were glowing. No way she could untie them. She bowed her head lowly, admitting her defeat.

“Don’t be so pouty,” Tom said in a mocking tone, “you’re going to benefit from our deal, too.”

She snapped her head at him.

“I’d rather fucking die.”

Michael tsked.

“It would be such a waste of the precious blood of yours,” he clicked his tongue, crossing his hands against his chest, the fabric of his cape tightening around his strong arms. “You need to practice more self-love. In that case, you won’t be willing to die every five seconds.” His deep tone vibrated with a silvery clang of veiled satire.

“If you continue with this stupid sarcasm,” she sneered, “I’m going to smash my head against the floor and die like that.”

“That’s not an appealing way to die.”

“Better than listening to you.”

“That’s enough!” Tom interfered and stoop up to his feet. The sound of his boots echoed through the room, as he approached her and Michael. He bent over at the waist to the same level with her face. “You are much better when the only sound leaving that pretty mouth of your is your pleas to be fucked harder.”

Her cheeks turned bright red and she could not find anything to contradict with, which made Riddle extremely satisfied with himself. He straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“You have no idea how similar you are to us. You can tell yourself all you want that we are monsters because, perhaps, to some extent we are,” he smirked, “but everything we do is for the bright future ahead of us. The world without mud-bloods, muggles, and other rubbish. And you,” he slid his thumb along her bottom lip bruised from biting, “are not a saint you try to portrait yourself to be. Forgive me, angel, but I don’t remember you helping the students when the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts. Where were you, a noble Prefect of Slytherin?”

She gulped.

“I...” Y/N started, but Tom did not need her remarks. He raised his hand, forcing her to shut up.

“You were saving your ass,” he said nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. “You are selfish and cowardly, but that’s what makes you a human being. Save the puny bravery for Gryffindor. Those fools never miss the opportunity to get into a fight without even thinking of the consequences...”

“Don’t make my fear of getting killed equivalent to the horror you and Michael are responsible for.” She interrupted him.

Tom’s nostrils flared. She looked at him with wide eyes, when he brutally grabbed her by the chin and made her look up at him.

“Next time you interrupt me, I’m going to cut your tongue off, am I being clear?” He had waited for her to nod before he let go off his grip.

“They are fighting and losing their people when they could join us and help us built something greater,” Tom raised his hands as if he was showing her the scope of his ambitions. “We’ve been oppressed by muggles for centuries, and it’s time to end it. We’ll annihilate everyone...”

“That’s where there’s mischief or the deity of things — nothing can be entirely annihilated; — not even a thought.” She murmured loud enough for Riddle to hear.

Michael sighed.

“Crucio”

A shot of blinding pain went through her body and made her choke on her scream. It felt like hundreds of needles were stuck under her nails and her skin got ripped off at the same time. It subsided as quickly as it had started when Michael pointed his wand in a different direction, leaving her breathless.

“Much better,” Riddle said, nodding approvingly at her fucked out state. “Where we were? Ah yes, the annihilation. Here’s the thing. To build the new word, you have to destroy the regular order of things. Those who choose to join us are very welcomed because they are going to be the ones building up the new life based on my and Michael’s commands. Human beings are very easy to manipulate, my dear. You will learn it soon enough. Our society has created a system that shapes every single one of us since the day we are born. It gives us our name, believes and determines the role we are going to play. A man in his origin is a blank canvas, nobody, who will be shaped in whatever form we want them to be,” his dark eyes sparkled mischievously.

She could only imagine the destruction they wanted to bring into the world.

“Has your father ever told you about the Elder Wand?” Michael asked, slowly circling her chair. She shivered when he brushed his hand over her tense shoulders.

“The one from the fairy tale?” She asked, her eyebrows frowned.

“Yes, the one originally owned by Antioch Peverell, a loyal subject of Death. The most powerful wand that has ever existed,” notes of anticipation threaded into Langdon’s voice. His boyish features illuminated with excitement as soon as he mentioned the wand.

“You are talking about it as if it’s real,” Y/N responded timidly. The last time she had heard anything about the Peverell brothers was when she was seven.

“It exists,” Riddle said gloomily, “and your father confirmed it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t said much before he lost his mind.”

A new wave of boiling anger raised within her. She tried to get her wrists free by rocking on the chair back and forth but failed. Her only desire was to punch Tom in his handsome face.

“And what do you want from me?”

Michael came closer and put his hand on her shoulder, holding her in place, his fingers dipping into the hollows of her collarbones firmly.

“Any information about it, the access to your father’s archives,” his blue eyes were drilling into her soul, “they are charmed and we can’t break into them. We need to know the possible location of the wand or its current owner.”

She was looking at them in disbelief. Two the most powerful wizards she had ever come across, really indulged in the idea of finding the wand from a fairy tale. She nervously licked her lips.

“I don’t know anything about it,” she started slowly, “Dad never talked about it and...”

Tom let out a frustrating groan. He was so tired of hearing the same damn thing from every captive. He hid his face in his palms and took a deep breath.

“Fucking cru—...”

“No! Please, don’t!” She yelled at him and squeezed her eyes tightly, waiting for a new wave of agony wash over her body, but it did not follow. She opened her right eye and saw Tom pointing his wand at her.

“Name one reason why I shouldn’t help you join your father at St. Mungo’s right now,” he hissed.

Y/N sobbed and only then noticed that she was crying again.

“If I give you access to my father’s archives, will you promise that you’ll leave me and my family alone?” She asked, her voice breaking. The voice in her head kept telling her to shut up, but she tucked it away. “That’s the only thing I need. Do whatever you want, but promise that in the anarchy you two will create, my family and I will survive.”

A defeating silence followed her question. She felt weak and defeated. Maybe they were right and she only cared about herself indeed? But who could blame her for that? Dumbledore was right about upcoming dark times and having seen Tom and Michael in flesh, as powerful as they were, she realized that it was time to make a choice. The choice every wizard would face soon enough. She had never wanted to be a hero and if there was a small chance for her and her family to survive. She would do anything for it, even if it meant making a deal with Satan.

“Seems like there’s an ounce of common sense in you indeed,” Tom finally mused. When he raised his wand again, she expected him to torture her, but he only flicked his wrist and untied her ropes. They fell helplessly on the floor like two coiled snakes. She lifted her eyes at him.

“Tomorrow we will make the Unbreakable vow in front of our followers. We will grant you a chance to live, but if you break any of your promises, you will die. You have time till dawn to think it all over.”

It was all he said to her.

xxx

Sitting in a huge bathtub filled with scented foam and oils the house elf had added for her, she was thinking if it was possible to drown in there or Michael and Tom would come and save her because they needed her for their plan. She leaned her head against the marble edge of the tub and closed her eyes. At least she had bought some time till morning, but she still had no idea what to do. On the way to her bedroom that Tom and Michael had prepared for her, she managed to take a glance at their mansion. It looked impressive. There must have been more than one elf because taking care of all those carpets, shiny polished furniture and jacquard curtains that framed big windows required a lot of time and effort. She doubted that Michael and Tom had neighbors, so she eliminated the attempt to scream and cry for help from her list.

What if she tricked him into believing that she was supporting their ideas and then found some floo powder and used in the fireplace she had noticed in the living room? She could let Dumbledore or Snape know what had happened to her. But Tom and Michael were masters of Occlumency. There was no way they would not control her mind. She sighed heavily. Y/N was too tired and drained out to think of any plan. She looked at her palms under pink foam and stroke the water with such anger that it got splashed overboard.

Fucking assholes.

She froze to the spot at the sudden sound of Riddle’s and Langdon’s voices behind the door.

“I don’t think she will mind,” and the next moment two men brazenly ruined her fragile peace.

They had got changed into more comfortable clothes, yet still managed to look implacable. A loose fit grey t-shirt was hanging off Michael’s collarbones contrasting with the icy blue flames in his eyes. There was a wide grin on his face when he entered the bathroom, he looked so young that if Y/N had not known what he was actually like, he would’ve tricked her into believing that he was a real-life angel. He shoved his hands into the pockets of linen trousers he was wearing and closed the door with a push of his hips.

Tom did not even bother to throw a shirt on. He leaned against the sink with his hands crossed against his smooth chest. His pants were hanging lowly on his naval, exposing the deep V of his muscles. Y/N nervously tried to cover her nudity with foam, hoping that they had not caught the glimpse of her pink, perky nipples, poking through the white and pink clouds of bubbles.

“Get the fuck out of here!” She exclaimed angrily, sinking deeper into the water, leaving only her head above the surface.

Michael rolled his eyes.

“No, not happening,” he said and bent over to sink the tips of his fingers into the water, checking the temperature.

She gasped at their audacity and demanded the explanation.

“What are you doing here?”

She could feel the blush creep over her cheeks at the heavy-lidded look of Tom’s dark eyes; for some reason, it seemed like he could see her through the water and foam mixed together, and she felt extremely embarrassed by it. She brushed her fingers through her hair, trying to cover her breasts with it.

“We decided to come help you with your decision,” Riddle said, licking his lips.

Y/N shot a sidelong glance at Michael who nodded in response and hooked his fingers under the waistband if the pants. She did not have to think twice to understand what he was up to.

“Don’t you dare!” She protested, instinctively pressing her back against the bathtub. She looked over her shoulder and nervously bit her bottom lip, thinking if she could slide to the side and thus get away from Michael, but the tub did not have much space. Langdon rolled his pants down his long legs and quickly stepped out of them, revealing himself in his full glory before her.

“Oh, my God,” she whined and tried to look away. “Put them back on for fuck’s sake!” Y/N pleaded, feeling the panic rise within her. She tried her best not to share at the impressive length of his half-hard cock hanging heavily between his parted thighs. It looked just as she had remembered it — long and thick with a pink, shiny head and a prominent vein on the underside. Okay, she did not see the vein this time, she just remembered it from the Chamber of Secrets, how it had felt against her wet, velvet tongue.

The cheeky grin ghosting over Michael’s plump lips was a sign of him being perfectly aware of the effect his naked form had on Y/N.

“Move,” he beaconed his fingers at her, and she shook her head.

“What?” Y/N’s question came off in a more high-pitched tone that she had intended, “No! Don’t you even think...”

“You need to be more appreciative of the fact that we have saved your life,” Tom said, and she wondered if he would join too. God forbid. So far, he was still standing against the sink, watching Michael and her.

“You are the ones who have put it in danger,” she reminded, eyeing Langdon suspiciously. He put his one leg over the edge of the bathtub, forming the ripples in the water.

“Then you understand how fragile your position is.”

Arguing with them was pointless, but it did not mean that she would give up so easily. She curled her fingers into fists and brought them against her chest when Michael fully got into the tub and headed toward her.

“Stay where you are,” she warned. He approached her, his broad chest covered in transparent beads of water; he dipped his head into the water, his blonde hair getting a shade or two darker.

“Or what?” He scoffed and extended his hand to her. It took him a couple of seconds to wrap his fingers of his one hand around her wrists and hold her in place. She looked at him in fear, but he only tilted his head to the side, his whole look asking “So what now? Go ahead and try me.” Michael used the time of her confusion to push his body off the bottom and press himself against her.

“Michael, please, don’t,” she begged, calling him by his name. Langdon’s cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from her lips, and he maneuvered both of them so he positioned himself behind her, holding her closely against his chest, her hands still in his firm grip.

Tom leaned forward, putting his hands on the edge of the tub, his muscular arms flexing at the weight of his body; the black strand of his hair fell into his face.

“C’mon, kitty,” he cooed, “didn’t you miss our time together?”

She arched her back and whined helplessly, trying to get away from Michael’s steel grasp. She wriggled her shoulders, but he wrapped his arm around her waist, pinning her to the spot. She could feel his erection pressed between their bodies and the way his chest was rising and falling within steady breathing.

“Did you sleep with anyone else after that?” Langdon whispered in her ear, grazing his teeth over the earlobe, his breath fanning over the sensitive spot. He nipped on the soft skin and then moved his lips to her neck, peppering it with sweet, teasing kisses. She rolled her head to the side in an attempt to prevent his manipulations.

“I’ve been trying to forget that experience like a nightmare.” She managed to mumble. He laid his hand on her stomach, slowly stroking it, his fingers dangerously close to her pubic bone. Michael used his thigh to spread her legs and make her straddle him, a position she was so used to.

“Hmmm, to forget?” He mused, massaging her tummy lazily, getting dangerously close to her womanhood with each circle. Langdon cupped her left breast in his free hand and rather harshly squeezed it, moving his fingers to her pink, soapy nipple to give it a pinch.

“We’ve seen every darkest corner of your mind,” Tom reminded her and stroke her cheek painted in scarlet hues of blush. “You loved the feeling of our cocks inside of you, didn’t you? The fullness? The way we moved together in your tight little holes that were begging to be ponded,” as he spoke his pupils were blown wide, turning his eyes into dark abysses; his voice dropping a few octaves lower, vibrating through her bones. By the way he licked his lips and brought his face so close to hers, she knew he was getting off to the filth that was coming out of his mouth.

“Stop, just stop it,” she whined and kicked Michael with her elbow, earning a disapproving groan from him.

Immediately, Langdon’s hand flew to her neck and wrapped around it securely, his thumb pressing right on the pulsing point of her sinew. She gasped in shock and reached for the edge of the bathtub, scratching her nails against the fine marble.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” she gripped onto his arm, but it only made him more aroused. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the nape of her neck and then moved lower to where her neck connected with her shoulder to bite the sweet spot, sinking his teeth into the warm flesh.

“She’s so cute when she’s trying to resist us,” Tom chuckled, sliding his hand over his bare torso down to his tense stomach, and then to the prominent bulge in his pants. He pumped his throbbing erection through the fabric without taking his eyes off of Michael who was toying with Y/N’s nipples. Having made sure that she was not moving, Langdon put both of his hands on her waist and raised her a little, so her breasts would appear on the same level with his lips. He attached his mouth to the hardening bud and sucked on it, circling his tongue around her flesh with a wet, ringing sound.

“I know,” he smirked against her mounds and playfully jiggled them in his palms, brushing his thumbs over the swollen nipples. He squeezed them and then let them go, clearly being amused by the way her tits bounced in front of his face. “Trying to fool us into believing that she’s not a little slut who craves being double penetrated, isn’t it so, angel?” He wondered, cocking his eyebrow at the nearly crying girl in his arms. They were doing it again. Mocking her. She sobbed, realizing that there was no escape, and dropped her hands, sinking them into the water and resting her palms on her spread thighs. She threw her head back on Michael’s shoulder and looked up at him tiredly.

“Just be a bit more gentle,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. His hands roamed over her body, contouring her sides and the curve of her silhouette. He groped her ass and parted her cheeks, stealing her breath away.

“We can’t promise it, sweetheart,” he winked at her and brushed the side of his palm over her crease, touching her most intimate parts.

She had to put her hands in front of her for leverage when Michael’s hand cupped her crotch, his long, skillful fingers digging into her folds. He pressed the heel of his palm to her center, mere inches away from her clit, electing a moan that mostly resembled a muffled gasp from her. Y/N turned her head at Tom, as she heard the sound of him undoing his zipper, and her mouth involuntarily fell agape at the sight of him. He wrapped his veiny hand around the impressive length and gave it a few tugs at the base, his fist meeting the neatly trimmed pubic hair. The sloppy sound that his hand was making mixed with the splashing of the water, as Michael started moving the V of his fingers up and down Y/N’s pussy, was filling the room.

The fact that they were in the tub made it a bit difficult for Langdon to understand if she was wet or not, but as he worked his digits faster, each time grazing her clit, he felt the beads of her juices collecting around his knuckles — consistency of her liquids was thicker than water. He swirled the tips of his fingers around her entrance and rubbed the arousal into her clit with tight, circling motions. She moaned and shifted on his thigh, instinctively wanting more.

“One thing that we’ve learned about you for sure,” Michael mewled, sliding his index inside of her tight heat, “is that you are submissive as fuck,” and just to emphasize his words he added another finger, stretching her walls out. She clenched around his digits, but he scissored them on purpose as a sign that he would still do as he pleased.

Tom’s hand found its way in her hair as he grabbed a fistful of it and pulled her toward him, her roots stinging at the piercing pain. Working his palm up and down his length, pausing at the slit to smear pearly precum all over the head, he crushed his lips against hers, his tongue possessively pushing on her bottom lip. She parted her mouth for him, and he let his hand, tangled in her wet locks, cup her cheek. Riddle wrapped his plush lips around the tip of her tongue and sucked on it, making her moan into the kiss.

She had to cling onto his shoulders when Michael’s fingers suddenly left her aching core. Tom was the one to break the kiss. She was panting heavily, as he pressed their foreheads together. Her eyes fluttered, lashes casting long shadows over her cheekbones when she looked down at his cock resting heavily against his abdomen. Riddle noticed her stare.

“Yes, Michael,” he grinned, his fingers stroking the blue, pulsing vein on the underside of his dick. “Give her what she wants.”

Langdon slid inside of her with ease and a low throaty groan, some water got splashed into the floor, but none of them cared. She could feel every inch of his delicious length and the head of it protruding its way into her quivering heat. The lack of lubrication, because of the soapy water,r made it harder for him to penetrate her with one thrust like he had wanted to do it. She winced at the burning stretch but did not ask him to stop.

“Just like that,” Tom praised, his fingers squishing her face and making her look up at him. “Take it, little slut. Take it all.” He smiled carnivorously, wiping the salty tears off of her cheeks.

“Oh, God,” she cried out when Michael, who had got tired of the slow pace, nestled his hands on her sides and forced her down on his length, making her sit fully on his cock. She heard the obscene “slap” of his balls against her ass cheeks.

“Fuck,” Langdon cussed behind her, throwing his head back. “Still the tightest kitty I’ve ever fucked.”

Her pussy clenched at the compliment, and she mentally slapped herself across the face for having reacted to his praise. She wanted to lean back against his chest, but Tom was holding her. He shifted forward and bent down on one knee.

“Bend her over a bit more for me,” he instructed Langdon who pressed his palm to her lower back, helping her position herself before Tom; her face appeared inches away from his cock. She lifted his gaze at him, and if it had not been for his self-control, he would have cum at the sight of her. Michael adjusted himself, too — he was standing behind her on his knees, his cock buried deep inside of her. He smoothed the foam all over her butt and gave the meaty flesh a couple of loud smacks.

“Come here, have a taste,” Tom called her and guided his cock to her lips. He ran the tip of it over her mouth, contouring the plump shape of her cherry lips, and for a second it seemed like he was going to be gentle with her. But as soon as the head of his flesh met the velvet of her mouth, he thrust his hips forward, hitting the back of her throat. Y/N did not expect that and ended up recoiling from him thus skewering herself onto Michael’s dick. She cried out with a mouthful of cock and placed her hands on Tom’s thighs in an attempt to push him away. It was almost impossible to concentrate. Not when Riddle was holding her firmly and Langdon pounding her so perfectly that each time the head of his cock brushed against all the right spots, making the knot in the pit of her stomach tighten.

He let her pull away just for a moment to recollect herself and get her breath steady, but then he threaded his fingers through her hair and wrapped it around his fist. This time she was more prepared and started breathing through her nose, hollowing he cheeks around his shaft. She laid her tongue flatly and let him slide the length along with rapid, brutal thrusts. She did not know how they were doing it, but Tom and Michael managed to work in sync — as Langdon was taking her from behind, the Slytherin Heir was using her mouth. She could feel the slightly bitter taste of him. Tears were streaming down her face, the air filled with the smell of sex and strawberry foam filled her nostrils.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” Tom murmured, squeezing his eyes when she swirled her tongue around the head and stroke the rest of the length with her hand. He snapped his hips and forced her to stay still, making her gag on him. The muscles of his stomach tensed at the sound of her struggling to take a breath, and he tightened his grip, feeling the way her throat convulsed around him. She was drooling all over herself, and Michael hovered over her back, to reach for her breasts and smear the liquid all over them.

She gasped when Tom let go off of her hair. Her eyes were red, lips bright pink and swollen, wet hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her body was jolting toward Riddle each time Michael’s dick penetrated her. She let out a low moan, her voice sounded hoarse and raspy when Langdon pulled his cock out of her completely and then shoved only the tip inside. He did it a couple of times with the most vulgar sound.

“Look at me,” Riddle demanded. By the hazy look in his eyes and the erratic movements of his hand, she knew he was close. Tears welling up in her eyes made everything look blurry. The ripples of pleasure piercing her body also made her feel weak and pliant, leaving her all worked up and needy. In the state of pure euphoria, she could admit that she loved the way Michael was taking her on all fours. “Stick your tongue out.”

She obeyed and darted her tongue out at the command, giving Tom her best doe-like look.

“Fuck I’m so close,” she heard Langdon’s ramblings, and her tummy fluttered in anticipation. “Go ahead, kitty, work that pussy for me,” he smacked her. “Clench that little hole.”

Right at that moment, with a low growl, Tom came all over her tongue. The white stripes of his cum painted it like pearly ribbons, staining her lips and chin. He looked ethereal with his mouth formed into a perfect “o”, dark eyes sparkling with lust. His broad chest was rising and falling rapidly as he was coming down from his high. The salty taste of his milk and the whole scene, in general, sent her over the edge too. Y/N clenched her pussy around Michael so tightly, that he had to dig his nails into the flesh of her hips from how good it felt. A string of “fuckshitiamcumming” accompanied his last thrusts, and she whimpered at the throbbing between her thighs as Langdon’s cock erupted with his hot, sticky seed and filled her up to the brim. The coil in the pit of her stomach snapped, and the earth-shattering wave of pleasure flooded all her senses. Her arms gave up, and she would have nearly dropped her head in the water if Tom had not caught her.

For a while, it was only their erratic breathing and tired limps intertwined together. She was standing there with her ass still up and pussy covered with Michael’s cum on full display for him, when she slowly started realizing what had just happened. She turned her head over the shoulder to meet the blissful expression on Langdon’s face. He licked his dry lips and ran his fingers through the damp hair, putting the disheveled strands of blonde locks in place.

“Tomorrow,” he cleared his throat, “at the meeting with the Death Eaters you shall not say a word to them even if they address you, understood?” He rather clumsily rose to his feet, letting the mix of foam and water run down his lean body. He waited for her to nod and then looked at Tom.

“Give it to her.”

She did not know what he had meant until Tom scooped Michael’s pants from the floor and snaked his hand into the pockets. Langdon reached out for one of the fluffy towels folded neatly by the sink and wrapped it around his hips. Y/N watched him step out of the tub and join Tom. Two of them were facing her like the snakes from her dreams. Riddle fished a small black box out and quickly opened it, reveling to the dim light of the room a silver bracelet in the shape of the serpent.

“Don’t ever take this off,” he told her and made a gesture with his index and forefingers to give him her hand. She did not have the strength to hold his palm, so she just let him put the fine piece around her wrist.

“What’s it for?” She whispered, feeling the warmth radiating from the snake.

“Something for you to wear until you get the dark mark.”

*In Harry Potter universe the underage magic is considered as any magic used by a wizard or witch who is under seventeen years of age outside of school, but in this series, it’s required to pass an exam first.

Taglist: (my regular taglist + those who expressed their interest in reading part two): @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @ccodyfern @sammythankyou @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @starwlkers @iloveziggystardust @chaoticevillangdon @sojournmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @rocketgirl2410 @theghostoflangdon @americanhorrorstudies @bbyduncan @nightsblackroses @langdvnshepherd @ccodyferns @isoldedax @omgsuperstarg @1-800-bitchcraft @wroteclassicaly @ticklish-leafy-plant @elena-75s-blog @peachesandfern @your-daddy-langdon @hexqueensupreme @icylangdon @littledemondani @hecohansen31 @mega-combusken

#michael langdon smut #michael langdon fanfic #tom riddle smut #michael langdon x reader #harry potter smut #Michael x Tom x reader

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thedoctornumber11 · 4 years

Text

Munday post

I figured maybe this week I’d do a different type of Munday. Most of my long time roleplay partners already know me quite a bit and I also try to introduce myself to newer partners as well, however I figured this could be a good chance for everyone to really get to know me. I’m including everything under a read more not because long post and also because I know not everyone likes seeing this type of thing. It’s just a bunch of random facts about me and my favorite things along with a munday pic under the cut. I didn’t want to just throw out a munday picture like most would do. I’ve done that plenty of times before and there’s nothing wrong with it, I just felt like doing something a bit more unique and different this time that might really give people a chance to get to know me :D

So long post under the cut.

So, first off, my name is Derek. I’m the mun. I just recently turned 30 and I’m from Indiana. I work in a preschool, essentially as a glorified baby sitter. I help the teachers get their breaks.

I’ve been interacting on here since November of 2013 and I’ve had this exact blog with this exact URL the entire time. I wanted something really generic and not just a quote or something like that. I first tried TheEleventhDoctor, but obviously that was taken so this ended up being what I went with. As for the theme, it too was made a VERY long time ago. The TARDIS theme with the opening doors on the TARDIS actually used to be quite popular when I first started interacting on here, particularly with the Doctor Who RP fandom. Although I’m the only one I see with it these days, if you go looking for older Doctor Who blogs that have gone inactive you are actually likely to find a few other blogs with it. As for the background picture, I found that one myself except for the part with Matt Smith/The Eleventh Doctor edited on. That part was done by someone I used to interact with who just surprised me with it one day and unfortunately isn’t on Tumblr anymore :( Having been on this platform for so long I’ve obviously seen a lot of blogs come and go and I miss every single last one of them :( However I also enjoy everyone I currently interact with and would recommend almost any of them. Seriously, if anyone is looking for new people to interact with, let me know you are looking for people and what fandoms you enjoy and I can probably recommend a few blogs!

Outside of Tumblr RP, I enjoy video games, yugioh, reading comics, general super hero related stuff, watching movies, playing Pokemon Go (I help run the local PoGo community) general board games, watching my shows, figure collecting, and cosplay, most of which I’m sure is stuff many of you also enjoy. My fandoms include Doctor Who (obviously), DC, Star Wars, The Legend of Korra/ATLA (I’m one of the few that likes LoK more than ATLA), Marvel, Star Trek, Firefly, Power Rangers, The Walking Dead, Yugioh, Pokemon, Sherlock, general Nintendo fandom, Digimon and Harry Potter.

Here’s a few things about me in list form.

My favorite musician is Weird Al Yankovic.

My favorite book is Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robbison. As someone who’s been diagnosed with aspergers syndrome myself, this book really spoke to me in my original read through and since then I’ve purchased it multiple times. I own at least three or four different copies of this book, partially because I kept loaning it out to people.

My favorite book series is the Harry Potter series. Don’t ask me for a favorite book in the series, I love them all about equally.

As for comics, right now my favorite thing I’m reading is the Power Rangers series that Boom is putting out. Some of my favorites of all time include Power Ranger Soul of the Dragon, the Star Trek TNG/Doctor Who crossover, the Power Rangers/Justice League Crossover, the original Spider-Gwen series, Poison Ivy Cycle of Life and Death, The Dark Knight Returns (I know anything Frank Miller related is a bit controversial but I enjoy it for what it is) and Batman: Hush.

Favorite movies include UHF, Scott Pilgrim VS the World, Captain America The Winter Soldier, Captain America the First Avenger, Avengers End Game, the Justice League movie, anything and everything DC animated, anything and everything Spider-Man related (yes, I even like Spider-Man 3 although it wasn’t as good as the others), anything Star Wars related although I’d say Force Awakens is my favorite one, the 2017 Power Rangers movie, Serenity, The Lego movie and it’s sequel, Yugioh Bonds Beyond Time, Mystery Men, Galaxy Quest, all the Star Trek movies, the corny 90′s Mario movie, the Doctor Who movie, and Detective Pikachu. Really, any of the Marvel and DC movies could probably make this list as well, I’m not super picky when it comes to movies.

Favorite TV shows is something I am a bit pickier about. Doctor Who is obviously on the list, and I’ve watched and enjoyed most of the Marvel and DC live action stuff although I have a huge preference for the arrowverse and 70′s Wonder Woman. Animated stuff tends to vary but a lot of the older stuff from the early and mid 90′s seems to be best for that. Power Rangers is obviously on the list as well, along with The Walking Dead, Digimon, Avatar the Last Airbender, The Legend of Korra, Sherlock, Yugioh, Firefly, and off the top of my head that’s about it. Everyone always assumes I’m huge into anime as well, but I’m not actually that into it. Just not my thing.

Now video games has potential to be my longest list as it’s easily my favorite medium of story telling due to the interactivity. First off, Nintendo and Playstation are my general consoles of choice. Nothing against Xbox, I have a lot of respect for the brand but I can’t really afford to have three consoles (even though I wish I could) and Nintendo and Sony have more offerings for me personally. I also do dabble on PC a bit, but I don’t really have a high end PC and it’s mostly just for Sims. That being said, my favorite games and game series include Watch_Dogs, The Sims, Mario (mostly the “main series,” 3D games and 2D platformers but I do enjoy some of the off series stuff like Mario Kart and Mario Party as well) , Pokemon, Super Smash Brothers, The Force Unleashed series, Injustice, most of the Spider-Man games, The Last of Us, Tomb Raider, most of the Batman games, Wario Ware, The Last of Us (still haven’t played the sequel yet. Waiting to get it for cheap after seeing reviews), Days Gone, Control, Horizon Zero Dawn, No Man’s Sky, 51 Worldwide Classics for Switch, No Man’s Sky, the Tony Hawk Games (still haven’t played the new one yet), Time Splitters, The Movies, Hulk Ultimate Destruction, Zombies Ate My Neighbhors, Kirby, The Legend of Korra game (the 3d one, not the really bad one for 3DS), Donkey Kong, Street Fighter 2, Punch Out, Metal Gear Solid 5 the Phantom Pain, Sonic Heroes, and the list could go on and on.

My favorite drink is root beer or chocolate milkshakes if that counts

My favorite alcoholic drink is probably just a basic screwdriver tbh

My favorite food is Cheeseburgers, although Chicken Pot Pie is also a top contender tbh

My favorite color is green

My favorite Doctor is Eleventh obviously, but Thirteen, Two and Twelve are tied for second

Favorite companions are Amy, River (if she counts), and Donna

Favorite New Who episode is The Eleventh Hour

Favorite Classic Who story is Genesis of the Daleks

Since I’ve mentioned super heroes a lot, my favorites are Batman, Wonder Woman and Spider-Man, although Supergirl, Batgirl, Captain America, Scarlet Witch and Black Widow are also pretty high on the list.

Favorite game in the Pokemon series is X and Y

Dragonite is my favorite Pokemon

Favorite 3D Mario game is Odyssey although Sunshine would be next up on the list.

This is my only Tumblr RP blog. I also have an ask meme blog and I used to have a personal but I haven’t logged onto it in years.

I’m on discord and I do add people from Tumblr on there, but I mostly only use it for Pokemon Go tbh

I spend every Wednesday and Sunday at the local comic book shop playing Yugioh

For anyone wondering in relation to that last fact, my current competitive deck Barrier Stun. Some of my favorite casual decks that I play or have played in the past are Lightsworn, Blue-Eyes, E-Heroes, Greed, Sacred Beasts, Penguins and Six Samurai.

In the last decade I’ve moved about 3 times

I own pets! I have one dog and one cat currently, but a few years back when we lived in a more country like setting, we owned 7 cats and 2 dogs at maximum. Most of them died of old age over the last few years.

Before my current job I used to work at Walmart. Long time followers of the blog may remember that I hated it there.

I don’t have a whole lot of writing experience outside of Tumblr tbh. While I do enjoy writing on here, it’s the interactions itself that makes it fun for me and while I’ve tried to write a few things myself, it’s just not the same as roleplay.

Anyway, I just sort of wanted to do something different for munday besides just posting pictures of myself so I hope anyone who read this enjoyed it. Here’s a pic of the mun to go with it.

#munday #ooc #long post #Honestly I just felt like writing this all out for some reason

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 2)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count: 3284

Warnings: Language,

Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once you dropped the man known a Thor off at the hospital, you all returned to your research trying to figure out just what the hell that was last night. What was the light? What was that funnel? What kind of tornado appears like that out of nowhere?

“Jane,” you said, looking at the pictures, “does something seem off to you here?” you asked, holding a photo up.

“Yeah… Where’s Ursa Minor?” she asked.

“My thoughts exactly. We better show Selvig.”

And so you did. You showed him all the oddities from last night, when Darcy noticed that Thor was actually inside the weird event. A few photos were taken and a silhouette of a man was inside of the cloud, that man had to be Thor, and he would have all the answers you needed.

The four of you went back to the hospital, only to find that he'd broken out of his restraints. Feeling defeated, you went back to the car, where Jane hit him again with her car. He had come out of nowhere and she backed into him.

“Jane, are you just determined to kill our only evidence?” you asked in a slightly irritated tone as you got out of the car.

“I’m not doing this on purpose!” she snapped back.

You knelt beside him and examined him. “Are you okay?” you asked softly.

He looked up at you and gave a slight frown. “Yes, I’m quite alright.”

“Good,” you kindly said. “Would you mind coming with us? We… want to talk to you,” you said, glancing to Jane who nodded, affirming your request.

“As you wish.”

With that, you and Erik helped him up, got him in the camper, and got him back to the lab.

All of you introduced yourselves while Jane got him some clothes he could wear instead of the hospital gown he was in. He went to change and you stared at him, not because he was muscular and attractive. You stared at him because of that familiar feeling you got when you were around him, and for some strange reason, you felt… better when you were near him. You felt energized, stronger, like you could take on the world.

And although he seemed… not quite right, something was just too coincidental that his name was Thor and he knew of a Bifrost. Unless he was just entirely loony, and decided to take on that persona, he looked the part of Thor, and knew at least a few key things about a world in which it looked like he belonged.

“This mortal form has grown weak. I need sustenance,” he suddenly said and you jumped up.

“I could make you some food,” you offered.

“What? No. He can eat some PopTarts,” Jane countered. “We need you to tell us what happened last night,” she instructed as Thor walked towards the kitchen.

“Jane, please. Give him a few minutes. You’ve run him over twice and clearly he’s still a little dazed,” you pleaded.

“Fine, but I want answers,” she informed firmly before sitting down with the other two at the breakfast table.

You walked over to the cabinet and pulled down some pop tarts and handed them to him. “Sorry about her, she can get a little… passionate when it comes to her work,” you said quietly as your eyes drifted to her.

“What is this?” he asked, taking the box.

“Oh,” you said, laughing. “These are pop tarts. A breakfast food. Do they not have them where you’re from?” you asked, noting his accent.

“No,” he informed.

“Ah, well all you do is--” you popped open the box, pulled out a silver package, ripped it open, and handed him a piece “--open the box, open the sleeve, and eat.”

He looked at it for a moment before shoving nearly the whole thing in his mouth. “I like this. This is good. More!” With that, he yanked the box from you, making you laugh.

“Have them all if you want.”

After he downed the entire box, he informed you all he was still hungry so you went to a diner down the street. The entire time you sat there, all you could try and think of was where you’d seen him before, other than in the mythology books -- which, that couldn’t be real. Thor seemed to be intrigued by you too because he seemed to steal a couple of curious glances your way as well.

As soon as Thor seemed to finally be full, he heard about the “satellite” wreckage that landed fifty miles west of town. Once he heard of it, he seemed hellbent on getting it.

“It’s not what they say it is,” Thor insisted.

“Well what is it?” you inquired.

“It’s Mjolnir, and it belongs to me. If you take me there right now, I will tell you all the answers you seek,” he promised and your heart swelled.

“Jane!” you said, turning to her in joy. “Let’s go!”

“Can I have a word with you two?” Erik requested and you glanced back to Thor before walking a few feet away. “Please don’t do this.”

“Do what? Take him to see some wreckage? He’s promising us answers, Erik,” you stated, pleading. You couldn’t explain it, but Thor seemed sincere and kind, and all you wanted to do was help him. You didn’t get any sort of odd feelings from him.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear him? Thor? Bifrost? Mjolnir? It’s all stories, all tales I was told as a child. That’s all they are, are tales. He’s delusional and he’s dangerous.”

“We’re just giving him a lift to a crater site,” you insisted.

“Jane,” Selvig started, turning to her, trying to reason with her. “Please. Don’t. I don’t like the idea of this.”

Jane gave him a torn look before glancing at you with apology in her face.

“Jane, no...No! Come on!” you pleaded but she just gave you a sympathetic look before telling Thor she couldn’t take him.

“Then this is where we say goodbye,” he said before bowing, saying goodbye to you all and kissing Jane’s hand. His eyes lingered on you for a moment when he told you goodbye, but then started to walk off, but something about him retreating made you feel… sad, almost... homesick.

Just as you all began walking away, a truck with Jane’s equipment stopped right in front of you all.

“Uh, Jane--”

“What?! Hey! That’s mine!” she shouted before the two of you took off running towards the lab. “What the hell is going on here?” Jane demanded as you stood beside her.

“Ms. Foster, I’m Agent Coulson, with SHIELD,” a man in a black suit stated and you recognized him. You’d seen him once before… hanging around Stark’s tower.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? You can’t do this!” Jane shouted as she tried desperately to grab at the things that were being taken.”

“Jane. Jane. This is a lot more serious than you realize. Let it go,” Selvig advised in a cautious voice, making your eyes scan the man and the other men in suits working diligently to clear all the work from the last several weeks.

How could they do this? How could some company or government program just waltz into a private scientific lab and seize any data they see fit? Which reminded you… there was a recorder in your pocket from last night, a recorder in which you used all the time to take notes out loud to transcribe later for Jane. You thought better when you spoke. You subtly felt it to make sure it was still there, then rested your hand inside your jeans to keep it secure in your hand.

“Let it go? Let it go? This is my life!”

“We’re here investigating a security threat. We need to appropriate your records and all your atmospheric data,” Coulson informed.

“By ‘appropriate’ do you mean ‘steal’?” Jane asked as she followed the men to a van where they were loading the last bit of your things.

“How can you do this?” you asked in an oddly calm voice, sadness tinging every word as you looked at the man in the suit.

“Here. This should more than compensate you for your trouble,” he tried, handing Jane a check.

“I can’t just buy replacements at RadioShack! I made most of this equipment myself!”

“Then I’m sure you can do it again.”

“And I’m sure I can sue you for violating my constitutional rights!” Jane yelled.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Foster, but we’re the good guys.”

“So are we! I’m on the verge of understanding something extraordinary. And everything I know about this phenomenon is either in this lab or in this book and you can’t just take this with--”

At that, another man in a suit grabbed Jane’s prized journal and tossed it in the van and closed the doors.

“Hey!” she said and you held her back.

“Jane,” you tried.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he said before disappearing around the side of the van, making you feel hollow. Weeks of research. Weeks of work. Hours upon hours of math -- gone. How could the world be so cruel? At this point you weren’t sure what to do. The ethical thing would be to stay with Jane and help her rebuild her research, but you needed funding. Maybe some labs back in NYC would have an opening. Maybe Tony would take pity on you and --

Your phone began ringing and you stepped away to answer it.

“Hey, Shannon, could we talk later? I’m kind of in the middle of something…”

“Yeah, so am I,” she said with a knowing tone. “It’s called being in your city, well, town. You can’t call this a city.”

Your eyes lit up and some form of warmth refilled your body. Between saying goodbye to the strange Thor and losing your work, you needed something like this. You looked out of the wide windows of the lab into the streets of the town, expecting to see Shannon just standing there.

“You are? Where?”

“I’m on my way back into town, actually,” she corrected. “Wanna get some coffee?”

“Of course,” you said. “Meet me at Izzy’s Diner.”

You grabbed your purse and told the three researchers you’d be back. You left the lab like your heels were on fire and skated into the diner. You ordered a coffee and a plate of toast. About ten minutes later, Shannon emerged and a giant grin grew on your face. Within an instant you jumped up and wrapped her in a tight embrace, really needing your best friend.

“So what the hell are you doing here?’ you asked quickly, and excitedly, with a dash of strong curiosity.

“Did you hear about that satellite crash? About fifty miles west?” she asked, leaning forward on her arms.

“Yeah, kinda,” you said.

“It’s not a satellite. But anyway, Tony wanted me to investigate. Grab some readings off of it, so we can study it. I got there early this morning got my data, and then the SHIELD goons showed up, so I hightailed it. I pretended I was a tourist. Tony gave me this nifty watch that lets you read from a distance of 100 feet." She went to show you the tool but you shook your head and lowered her hand.

"That's great, but...SHIELD showed up and took all of our data."

"All of it?" she asked, shocked.

"Every bit. Just now. We saw them load it and haul it away," you noted, the sorrow in your voice not hidden as your eyes dropped to your plate.

Shannon sank back in her chair. "That's a bummer. I was going to ask you if you had anything I could bring Tony. I knew you were working in that area. I was hoping you had swiped some info."

"I've got something small but... not here," you said, glancing around.

"Right." She nodded.

"So how is Tony?" you wondered, wanting to get your mind off the bad events.

"He's... you know... Tony," she said with a laugh, that made you want to return the laugh.

"So he's still a stubborn, egotistical, asshole, genius?" you inquired.

"Bingo."

"And has that asshole-genius asked you out yet?" you asked with a quirk of your eyebrow.

"What? No," she responded, blushing, covering part of her face with her hand as if Tony were in the room now and could hear. "We aren't like that, okay? He doesn't like me like that."

You let out a loud, short laugh. "Oh my god, Shannon. You can bullshit Stark all you want, but me? No. You know damned well that I know how you feel about him."

"Yeah, well that doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like me," she quipped in a whisper.

"It does, because I know he does."

"Oh, and where is your proof?" she asked with a playful mocking face. "Hmm? Please, paint me a picture of how Tony Stark wants to be with his lab assistant."

"The way he looks at you," you said point blank, your tone making it clear it was obvious to everyone. "The fact that he made you lead lab director."

"That's qualifications, Y/N."

"He could've put you on bigger projects. Projects that don't take place inside Stark Tower? Projects that are all over the globe? but what does he do? He sticks you in the same floor, the same main room he works in."

"We are not discussing this," she said firmly, her cheeks getting redder.

"Why not?! He's into you! You should just ask him!"

"I'm not going to ask my boss if he's harboring feelings for me!" she whisper-shouted.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

"Well if you won't be reasonable, then maybe you'll listen to something crazy."

You launched into how you met Thor and everything he was saying, and you how believed he was telling the truth.

"Wait, let me get this straight. Jane runs over a guy with the research van, and you think he's some Norse God reborn?"

You shook your head. "No, I think he is the Thor. I think he is very old and very powerful."

"What makes you think that? He probably read the same books you did in college but he took them a little too far," she noted.

"No, I'm telling you, Shannon. He talks about this like it's his home. He talks so comfortably about it as if I were to say 'Hand me your phone' or 'Get in the car.'"

"Okay so he's been crazy a long time. Since when do you defy logic and reason?" she challenged, wondering why you were believing a man who was probably insane.

To be honest, you knew how it sounded. You'd been dwelling on it all day since he said his name was Thor last night. But there were too many coincidences for this not to be something weird.

"Since Newton was called crazy, since Einstein was ridiculed, since Copernicus was railroaded."

Shannon started to roll her eyes but you pressed on.

"Come on, you have to admit, it's pretty weird that the night he shows up in the middle of the desert, some weird 'thing' crashed nearby. You saw it, did it look like a hammer?"

She seemed to stall, which meant you were right.

"Well... yeah, but that doesn't mean--"

"Aha! See? I'm telling you... This is the real deal."

"I think you studied that crap too much that you forgot what's real and not real," she muttered.

"Shannon, science is always telling us to broaden our minds, our thinking, our understanding. We've all agreed that it would be wildly arrogant to assume we're alone in the cosmos, why is this any different?"

“Because it’s insane,” she stressed. “You’re talking about magic and realms and teleportation devices.”

“Yes, but thirty years ago nearly all of Tony's inventions would've been called impossible. And now look where he is! Look where science has brought us.”

“Okay, and what if what you’re saying is true? What are you going to do?” she pressed. “You gonna tell everyone? You gonna ask him to take you back with him?"

A small sparkle twinkled in your eye before Shannon began going, "No. Oh no. I know that look. No! Are you mad?"

"Possibly," you said, tilting your head to the side. "But what do I have to lose? I just lost all of my most recent work, he didn't threaten me. The least I can do is ask!"

"Y/N! Y/N!" she shouted as you got up from the table, throwing some cash down and making your way outside. "This is crazy. You don't even know where to find him!"

"Can't be hard in a population of five," you muttered, looking around for him on the street. "I need a car. Dammit. Give me your car," you instructed. "We'll take him.”

“I’m not so sure I want some homeless crazy dude in my car,” she stated as the two of you walked down mainstreet.

“Please? We’re just taking him to that hammer. He said earlier he would tell us information. This way we both get what we want. I can see if he’s telling the truth and you get more data for your boy toy.” You flashed a cheeky grin and began walking again.

“He is not my b-- Ugh! Fine. Only because I love you and I want to prove to you that Norse Mythology is just that -- myth. Something made up for children or for primitive beings with primitive gods.”

“I don’t care what your reasons are so long as you take us,” you said with a smile. Just as you said that, you found Thor inside a pet store. It seemed easy to find him, almost like… Almost like he was a beacon to you. Without even seeing him, you were drawn to him.

You texted Jane and told her where you were going and she said she wanted to take you all, to come along. So, instead of taking the fancy ass car Tony bought Shannon, you took the broken down camper. Jane and Thor sat up front, chatting a bit while you and Shannon caught up some more. You introduced the two of them and set off.

Eventually, talk turned to Thor and his life.

“You’re brave to do this, you all are,” he noted.

“I’m just trying to find answers,” you stated honestly.

“Yes, it seems we all are. But you three maidens seem to be rather clever in this realm. Much like my friends back home,” he said with a fond smile.

“Maidens? Realm?” Jane asked, her voice saturated with amusement and confusion.

“You think me strange?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good strange or bad strange?”

“I’m not quite sure yet… I’m sorry but, who are you? Really?” Jane pressed.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“You promised us answers,” she reminded.

“What you seek, it’s a bridge,” he started.

“Like an Einstein Rosen bridge?” she asked, excitement in her voice, meanwhile you began to tingle all over.

“More like a rainbow bridge.”

“A rainbow bridge… like… Like in Asgard?” you questioned.

Thor turned around to try to face you better from his position in the passenger seat. “Yes, exactly. I thought Midgardians didn’t know anything about us.”

“I… I studied your… culture.”

“She means,” Shannon started, “that she studied mythology that happens to sound like where you came from but I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” she said with a pointed look.

You gave her a look back, before the four of you settled in for the rest of the drive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

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Loki:

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#unforeseen chasm #loki x reader #tony stark x ofc #loki #tony stark #thor

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