#jiemma (the bastard)

[latinoxxghostxx]

FairyTail: Natsu, Gray, Sting & Rogue vs Mard Geer & Jiemma AMV

The FairyTail demon arc was a 10/10. This fight tops it all. Natsu and Gray team up against my favorite villain Mard Geer. And Sting and Rogue's revenge against that bastard Jiemma. 

Song: Breaking Benjamin - Dance with the Devil, Linkin Park - Don't Stay, and Skillet - Back from the Dead

[newgeht]

Binding Ink

Chapter 4: Misleading Entries Summary: Everyone had a name forever embellished on their wrist. This was the name of their mortal enemy… Or at least it was supposed to be. Characters: Minerva Orlando, Gray Fullbuster, Gajeel Redfox, Sting Eucliffe, Lamy, Jiemma, Lucy Heartifilia Rating: T  Words: 4,510 AO3 | FFNet 1 | 2 | 3 

Trigger Warning: Graphic images of abuse up ahead. 

Her very own bike came speeding toward her, those great white lights filled with fury. Minerva pushed herself up against the damp alley wall, dodging Gray's attempt at running her over.

“That's my bike! What the hell do you think you're doing?” Minerva spat, her hands consumed with her magic. She knew better than to run after him, so she stayed to guard the door. “Do you really not trust me?”

 She received no reply as he rounded the corner, now completely out of sight. Now she went running after him, there was no way in hell she was going to lose her bike to a man -much less a fairy. A shirt was left on the sidewalk outside of the alley, Minerva knew that Gray meant business.

 “So you came here for a fight, huh?” Minerva turned on her heel, the spotlight back on her again. Her mouth cocked to the side, the black paint of her bike gleaming under the moon's shine. Those two white eyes coming closer by the moment and she leaped at the last second. Those chilly blue orbs meeting her own.

 She successfully leaped over the charging machine, her heeled boot meeting Gray's chest. She hit him with a force like none other, sending him flying off the seat. His body went one way and her precious vehicle the other. Unlike Gray and her cherished bike, she landed on her two feet. Clashing and clattering followed the bike, but groans spilled from the other direction - Gray. Minerva was cocky, but at least she could admit it. How dare he try to run her over, and with her own bike.

Minerva was tempted to stalk in the other direction to grab her bike but thought naught. No matter how much she wanted to run over the ice mage, she held her temper. Lucy wouldn't appreciate it if she plucked Gray's wings. She noticed her motorcycle wasn't a complete mess as the lights shone on the two of them; her shadow creeping across the length of the eery street.

 Gray coughed and struggled to sit up, a blue light blooming from his fists.

“Don’t even try it.” Minerva kicked him and he grunted, falling back into the ground. His entire torso was littered with road rash and various scrapes. His arms were the worst as his forearms were bleeding, some of the asphalt sticking to his wounds. Settling her hand on her hips, she stood above him. She exuded confidence and reeled her foot back.

 “Where’s Lucy?” His voice was scratchy as he choked out the words. Minerva almost took pity on him, but she grinned.

 “Why is that any of your business? She’s not your girlfriend, is she?” Minerva knew she hit a sensitive spot as his face darkened. She kneeled down, mocking him. “Seems like she’s more interested in me than you.”

 Her fist glowed a bluish black as she pulled her hand back, sending it straight into Gray’s gut. He sputtered and failed to land his own hit on her. “That doesn’t matter. I love Lucy, unlike you.”

 Minerva nodded and tutted at the ice mage. “Of course I don’t. I barely know her.”

 Her words were insensitive and she knew it, which made the whole conversation even better. She hardly spent time with Lucy and the blonde was head-over-heels for Minerva. The thought made her feel better, she was going to win in any situation. The only problem was the frustration that Gray had been causing. He couldn’t seem to let go, it was something that made him weak -something that Minerva took advantage of.

 “Argh…” Gray sat up, his eyes level with her own. “Take me to her or face the wrath of Fairy Tail.”

 Minerva scoffed and stood, looking down upon Gray. With how annoyed she was, he was more like a fly than a fairy. “You’re acting like I kidnapped her. I didn’t. I thought you saw her willingly come along with me.”

 “But she’s seriously injured. Don’t be so ignorant to think that no one knows about that back alley clinic.” He pointed at the dark alleyway, his jaw tightening. “You should have just brought her to us. Not to that vile demon.”

 Minerva rolled her eyes. Lamy was a bit boy-crazy but she wasn’t vile. The other demons of Tartarus were far worse than what Gray had insinuated.

 “Tch, so low of you to think I would injure her on our first date. We all just went because my friend Gajeel got injured. His fight with Jackal wasn’t as easy as he expected.” She lied smoothly, so very smoothly.

 She only got a perplexed look from Gray as he staggered to his feet. “You mean to tell me that Leo is wrong?”

 “Leo?” Minerva questioned, knowing full well Lucy had called him out earlier.

 “Her celestial spirit! You would know this if you cared.” Gray drawled, his eyebrows pinching together.

 “Ah yes, I remember him. The flirtatious lion is probably jealous, just like you.” Toxicity dripped in her voice. Gray frowned and glared at her. He made himself so easy for Minerva to tease, and it was too hard to resist prodding at him. His own annoyance gave her satisfaction. An eye for an eye in the end.

 “Shut up, that’s not what this is about.” His face fell and he shoved his hands in his pockets. A dark cloud seemed to weigh on him and he sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’m sorry for assuming that she was hurt, just let me take her home.”

 Minerva could barely repress her laugh, he completely bought all of her lies. “Alright. I’m sure she’s ready to leave by now. But you owe me, that bike cost me a fortune to build.”

 “Oh, I’m sorry about that.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head as he looked at the bike. “I guess I kinda took things a little overboard.”

 “And you got your ass kicked anyways. Just be glad this involved Lucy, otherwise you would be in much worse shape.” She rapped against the steel door, not ready to wait for Lamy. Gray followed in suit after he brought her bike into the darkened safety of the alley. She turned to look at the ice mage, unimpressed with him so far.

 “As much as I would love for you to pay for my bike, you don’t have to. I’m glad you destroyed it, it gives me an excuse to get an upgrade.” Minerva chuckled as Gray’s eyes widened.

 “I can at least give you some money…”

 The door was pushed open and the dim yellow light from inside shone on the two of them. Lamy began to hyperventilate, her eyes roving over Gray’s body. “Y-You brought me another pretty boy?! I still don’t know whether to hate or love you Minerva.”

 “I think the best would be to love. I’ve brought you so many at this point, haven’t I?” Minerva wasn’t wrong by a long shot and grinned as Gray’s face was wiped with pure irritation. “But like always, you can’t keep this one either. Find your own man for once.”

 “You’re the one who’s always dripping in men. How come you can’t share with me?” Lamy wheezed in rapid succession as she led them to the room that Lucy was originally placed in. It was evident by Gray’s fidgety posture that he wasn’t so comfortable in this place. No one ever was, Lamy was an absolute pig.

 Minerva shot a look at Lamy, daring her to continue her sulking. “You know my interest only

lies with women. And it’s not my fault that Sting is gay or that Gajeel is in a relationship.” She pushed the door open; Sting was lounging on a wooden crate.

 “M’lady, Lucy is… Who’s that? It better not be a new recruit.” He eyed Gray suspiciously, a small look of recognition gracing his features. “Why the hell do ya have to get involved with the fairies so much? All they bring is trouble.” He explained in exasperation, clearly not happy with today’s turn of events.

 “Hush, Gray is fine.” Minerva glowered at the ice mage, “As long as he behaves. Anyways, isn’t Gajeel fixed up yet? We really have to clear this place soon, or Jiemma will come after us.”

 Sting stiffened at the mention of her father, and she couldn’t help feeling a small pang of guilt.  “Y-Yeah, he is. Lamy didn’t have to do much, it’s just Lucy we have to worry about.”

 Minerva cleared her throat, eyeing the blond. “She’s completely fine, Sting. I’m sure she was helping Lamy patch up Gajeel. Right, Lamy?” Her hazel eyes shot the small bunny-demon and it elicited a wheeze.

 “I don’t know if I would call that blonde bimbo a help. She was too handsy with him.” This made everyone laugh.

 “Take me to them, Lamy. I need to speak with Gajeel in private.” The girl’s small head of hair bobbed as she acknowledged Minerva. Dutifully, she led her out of the room.

 Gray tried to come with them, but she held her hand up. “No, you stay. I didn’t say you could go anywhere. You have wounds that need tending to.” Minerva nudged him into the room, looking at Sting. “Get this fairy patched up, will you?”

 “I just want to get Lucy and go. She’s not supposed to be out this late-”

 “If she really cared, Lucy would have asked to leave long ago.” Another lie but Gray wasn’t phased by it. He muttered something under his breath and took residence in a rusty metal chair. Another fault of the fairies, they were extremely gullible. It was just too easy to win, Minerva thought. “I’ll be back with the both of them, soon.”

 Catching her look, Sting grabbed a box of randomly assorted medical supplies and began tending to Gray. Neither were happy with the situation but they came to a mutual understanding.

 Minerva exited and walked with Lamy down a small corridor. “You best hope she’s fixed or you’re dead.” Her voice was low and she could see the white sweat break on Lamy’s face.

 They walked into a room much larger than any in the small clinic. The room was dark and held a green filament, the ceilings being raised another twenty feet or so. In the middle of the room, there were rows of glass cylinders. Each was filled with a murky bile-colored liquid, which was still transparent enough to see through. These were big enough to hold any size animal, ranging from humans to the most dangerous of demons themselves. Which is why this operation is so illegal.

 After Tartarus’ disbandment, Lamy had taken all of her regeneration and youthonizing magic technology, and set up shop here. She had great dealings with the dark guilds, most using her curse to completely regenerate their guild mates and hideous monsters. But Minerva only used the girl on emergency occasions, such as this.

 It was evident that not a single container held a body, all of them empty and flowing with the same repugnant liquid. Lamy’s curse supposedly only worked on the demons of Tartarus, but she found a loophole. She kept it hidden from everyone as to exactly what she did, but Minerva was one of the only ones who didn’t care. As long as she was capable of turning everything back to normal. But not seeing that familiar head of golden hair, made her doubt Lamy’s abilities. “Did you even put her in?”

 “Ah, don’t worry Minerva.” Lamy cringed in on herself as she spoke. The green lighting of the room making the small girl look sickly. “I put her in right as you left.”

 “Don’t worry, buns.” She hated Gajeel’s nickname for her. Minerva’s hair wasn’t even in her signature style right now. “I got the blondie, right 'ere. She seems to be back ta normal, no scars or nothin’.” His piercings were eerily illuminated in the room’s light as he walked out from behind one of the glass encasings.

 For a split second she felt relieved to see Lucy but the feeling dissipated as quickly as it came. This was still strictly business, no matter how much that prophecy bounced around her mind. Her body was limp in Gajeel’s arms. It looked as if she still wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

 “Good, I’m glad Lamy tended to you as well. But here’s the thing, we’re going to act like Lucy was never injured. A little fairy had the gall to come and find us.” The more Minerva thought about Gray, the more she despised him.

 Once she was done with Lucy, the ice mage was next on her list. A burning sensation enveloped her wrist as she thought of harming Lucy, and she gritted her teeth. This tattoo was going to be the death of her; the vision of their prophetic moment flashing through her mind.

 “Just follow my lead, Gajeel. Don’t say a word about anything that has happened today, not to one person.” Minerva quickly led them all back to the dingy patient room.

 Sting and Gray were silent as she walked in, looking at her with wide eyes. Gray’s upper chest and arms were bandaged, he had some nasty rug burns. But it wasn’t her fault that he chose to strip in the middle of battle, what kind of idiot was he? They both seemed like lost puppies. “Gajeel and Sting, you can leave now. Make sure you get the word out about next week.”

 Even with this big accident today, the fight club would still resume it’s activities. Gajeel nodded and handed Lucy over to Gray, taking his leave with Sting. Lamy began to weep over their absence, excusing herself from the room. Her heavy sobs, echoed in the silent hallway. Minerva was extremely displeased with her performance today. She deserved to cry.

 Blue eyes hardened, becoming void with emotion at Minerva’s presence. Gray coddled Lucy to his chest, looking over her features with worry. “I thought you said she was-”

 “She is. She just fell asleep while waiting for me to come back. Now make sure she gets home safely.”

 Gray cursed under his breath and stopped next to Minerva. Their shoulders were practically touching and the room’s temperature dropping significantly. “I can’t wait until Lucy knows how evil you are, “ the most lethal venom dripped from his voice. He shoved her out of his way, kicking the door closed behind him.   

Minerva was alone, the silence of the room drowning her. His words had stung her, punctured her heart severely. She didn’t know what the feeling was, but the emotional pain as insurmountable. She wasn’t evil, was she? Minerva bit her lip to repress the tears that were threatening to fall. What stopped her was the thought of Jiemma. He could do so much worse than the puny ice mage.

 With a deep breath, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. Right now she had to worry about getting home before curfew.

By the time Minerva got home, the moon was beginning to crest over the horizon; peaking it’s shiny balded-head over the skyline. So far she had dropped her bike off at Sting’s home and had made the long trek to her own home on her own two feet. It was a couple miles from where she lived, but leaving the bike at her best friend’s house was a step in the right direction. There was no way she could get caught today. It was almost midnight.

 Looking ahead, her antiquated home stood as a flower in a dirt field. Her father constantly was renovating and updating the house’s features. Which meant she had to find another way in every time she stayed out too late, which wasn’t often. It was just her luck that he had gotten a new security system about a week ago. Jiemma never would have bought the technology, but he needed a way to assure that she wouldn’t try to escape.

 Minerva grinned at the thought. No one, not even her father could keep her locked up.

She stood with her hands on her waist, sizing the quaint house up. Her dad’s car sat in the driveway and there were security cameras hovering above the garage. The only thing that had changed from when she left this morning was the absence of dew on their front lawn. Minerva frowned, nothing had particularly stood out of place.

 Instead of some risky procedure, she decided she would crawl through her window. This was her usual method of sneaking in, but caution was always necessary. Even for something so basic.

 With a couple steps back and a great leap forward, she vaulted over her the gate leading to the backyard. Minerva used her hands to push off of the gate. Last time she touched it, the alarm was set off but not this time. Internally she applauded herself, all those gymnastics classes Jiemma forced her to take finally worth the time. She landed on her feet, immediately pressing her back up against the shingled wall.

 There were still cameras back here. But these ones surveyed their grand, olympic-sized swimming pool. Her father absolutely despised the rowdy teens that tried to take an evening dive. Or one who took a skinny dip… That was an absolutely horrible day. Jiemma accidentally blew up their previous pool with his maddening anger.

 Sucking in, she kept her body pressed into the wall, slowly moving along it until she stood under her window. Looking up, she could see that it stood open. Her silken curtains lightly kissing the window sill. That was odd, Minerva had sworn that she closed it before she left this morning.

 Closing her eyes, she imagined being up at the window sill. A small surge of magic filled her entire body and her hands grasped the edge of the window. She was so happy that she had teleported successfully, but a large tanned hand grabbed her own. In a single moment, she was yanked through the window and thrown to the floor. As she was pulled through, her side had hit the ledge. Minerva cried out, mostly in distress than in pain.

 Fuck, she thought. “Where were you?” That low voice was filled with danger. Minerva looked up and met her father’s gaze. She wished it was a burglar. She wasn’t capable of killing her own father.

 His eyes narrowed and he lifted his hand. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

 Minerva scrambled to get up to her feet, her heart beating too quickly. She had never gotten caught. “I was with Sting.” She managed to speak in a cool tone. It usually worked when she lied.

 Even with her tall stature, Jiemma stood heads above her. His presence was darkened, the light absent from his features. Minerva wished she could run away, just as it did. “You’re leaving some details out.”

 He wouldn’t be mad if she was at Lamy’s but he couldn’t know about her other activities in

the night. “We went to Lamy’s place, with Gajeel.”

 Jiemma scoffed, his eyes burning with rage as his hand marred her cheek. Minerva was an idiot to think she could deceive him. “Do you take me for a fool?”

 Her face felt raw and burned, tears briskly approaching the edge of her lashes. She didn’t dare look at him again, lowering her head in shame. Minerva’s cheek stinging and pulsating as a stray tear slipped from her eye, burning a trail down her face.

 That same calloused hand lifted her chin up. Jiemma looked at her with hollow eyes and yet his words were soft. “Pathetic. It only took one hit this time. I thought you were stronger Minerva.”

 Delicately he wiped the tear away, his fingers bruisingly gripping her chin. Her eyes still hadn’t met his and he frowned. “Look at me when I speak to you.” Anger was always underlying in his words, no matter how gentle he was.

 She complied, her lip quivering with fear; she was looking into the eyes of the devil. “Now tell me, Minerva…” His hand softly pet her hair, treating her like a broken doll. “Who’s name is on your wrist.”

 With the smallest movement, she shook her head. Minerva was completely at a loss of words, how did he know? His hand trailed down from her chin to her neck, those hardened fingers lightly skimming her throat. “I don’t even know who they are…” Minerva breathed out, fear digging into her skin.

 The hand of the devil clasped around her throat, his nails digging into the soft skin. Minerva’s breath was completely taken away. Grasping onto her father’s hand. Jiemma’s eyes filled with the beginnings of insanity as he continued to grip her throat. “You’re not the daughter I’ve raised. When did you protect pansy fairies?”

 He sneered with disgust, his hand flaring a dark and violent purple. Her throat erupted with blistering pain, the struggle to breath worsening. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clawed against her father’s arm. “I… don’t…” She scrambled to get out. To feel a release.

 She had beaten Gray to the curb but that was just to show him a lesson. And Lucy was different, she was unlike anyone she had ever met before. But Jiemma knew about everything, he always seemed to know. This wasn’t any good for her upcoming plans.

 Jiemma’s eyes flashed with sympathy for only a brief moment and he released her. Minerva fell to the floor, a sniveling pile of utter failure. Jiemma didn’t look at her as he left, “You have training in a couple hours. Get your act together before then or you will face greater consequences.” The man was stone, his words holding truth.

 The door slammed shut and Minerva curled in on herself. She allowed all of her neglected emotions in, the barrier of apathy coming down. Rejection, failure, disappointment, the list could go on. These flooded her at an unbearable force and she wept, the tears never ending.  

 Her whole body wretched with insurmountable pain, everything crashing down on her. Gray’s words violating her mind. She wasn’t good, but she wasn’t evil. Everyone had to take a side, right? How come she couldn’t follow her father’s orders? Why hadn’t she murdered Lucy yet? Questions like this had bounced around her mind, her body quaking with despair.

 The more she dwelled on her thoughts, the more they consumed her. Overwhelming feelings and emotions at play within her body. And Minerva was trapped. She sobbed until she couldn’t, the tremors subsiding as her energy was lost.

 Minerva would take care of her wound and duties later, the chasms of sleep taking her in.

Lucy woke up with a startle, her dreams a distorted flashback of what occurred only a couple hours ago. She was in her own bed, the pink comforter tucked in at her sides. Lucy threw the covers off of herself, only one thing on her mind -her lacrima phone.

 Oh how she wished Minerva had been by her side when she had awakened, but that, sadly, wasn’t the reality she lived in. She was sure that the Sabertooth mage returned home safely. Minerva was just too capable.

 Scrounging through the items in her school bag, she couldn’t find the damned device anywhere. Lucy picked every piece of her room apart in the search for it, but it was no luck. She huffed and plopped down on her bed, the previous hours relaying through her head. The ride with Minerva had been fun but her little “club” was a shock… And then there was her battle with that insane and fiery red head.

 At the thought, Lucy frantically looked over her body for any injuries. Her wrists weren’t burned and her stomach…

 Lifting her night shirt, there wasn’t a scratch. And no blemishes on her skin to signify that she had been injured. Weird, she thought. She distinctly remembered the pain she had suffered not too long ago, but nothing, not one thing to confirm it. Maybe it had been a nightmare after all.

 Her bedside table rattled, the piece of furniture chattering. It was her pink lacrima phone! Picking the gadget up, there was an incoming call from Gray. She pressed down on the red button, sighing.

 When she scrolled through her notifications, she had many messages and missed calls. Most

of them being from her current problem, Gray. She really felt so bad for the guy, he was one of her best friends after all. She wished that he would get the hint already. No matter how Lucy explained to him she wasn’t interested anymore. At this point it was a matter of his stubbornness or that he really didn’t understand, she doubted the ladder choice.

 The rest were from Natsu, Yukino, and… Minerva. She grinned at the text, excited for what she could have possibly sent her.

 She left her phone open on the message as she got ready. Lucy was giddy and filled with a newfound energy, there was no way she could decline Minerva.  

 Minerva: Last night didn’t go as I expected and I’m sure you weren’t impressed either. Would you be willing to let me take you out again?

 She was so sure that today was going to be much better. That was until there was a timid knock at the door. The person she had least wanted to see standing behind that door.

[starswallowingsea]

Before i go to bed I really gotta ask if mangakas who give evil bastard characters children realize that there has to be another person involved in making them. Like I just watched Minerva’s backstory in FT and her other parent is never mentioned at all despite the fact that someone had to give birth to her. Who fucked Jiemma. Who unironically fucked him. I need to know

[poisonouslightslayer]

Do not reblog, steal and use as your own.)

Verse 3: Holy Light Corrupted

(tagged as)  v Light AU Dark: Holy Light Corrupted  

“Who says all light has to be pure? They haven’t met me then.”

This version of Sting happened when he let all of his negative feelings he ever experienced feed into his power that went to his head.

Prelude:

A mysterious voice called from the heavens and those gathered around to discuss about the one that could help or corrupt mankind. All  had their own plans for this young boy now in Fiore that would grow into a handsome powerful young man, but the question was which side would he lean more towards?  

“After centuries of searching he has been chosen, the one when he comes of age will possess both holy light and darkness to keep balance in the world. His life will be filled with strife, turmoil and hardship and others will envy his might, but he must not stray and give into more then one over the other or else the world will be in peril and a new powerful entity will emerge and rise again to corrupt all.

When Sting was a young kid, he never realized the kind of power he would possess in the future based off the choices he made in his life. Raised by the white dragon Weisslogia, he was deceived to thinking he had to slay him in order to master the abilities of a dragon slayer, but in truth his father manipulated his memories and rested within him to assist in fighting Acnologia and prevent him from becoming a dragon one day. When Sting later discovers the truth that he was lied to, doomed to the fate of having dragonfication and that all the hell he experienced being in Sabertooth could have been prevented had his father told him the truth about his reason for being in the present timeline as well the the hardships of the war that cause him to suffer in more ways then one that nearly killed him,  the wrath and resentment within him takes over and puts him on a dark path that he never comes back from.  A mysterious voice leads him to this fate and a new entity rises from within; the tyrannical hybrid dark angel, Demon King Abyssal White Dragon Sting; corrupter of  souls.

His objective:To test, influence, manipulate and eventually have humans destroy themselves with their own choices using the seven deadly sins: wrath, envy, gluttony, greed, sloth, pride and lust.

“You are mightier. All are beneath you. Defeat them!”

Through out his time in Sabertooth, Sting was a solider of a high caliber (Captain class) and did nothing but follow his master Jiemmas’  orders. During those seven years he became very disciplined, ruthless, sadistic and power hungry in order to keep pleasing his guild master for that he would never end up being expendable and his power would keep growing. Others that weren’t in Sabertooth were considered scum and not worth his time. Sting relished beating up Natsu and Gajeel in the Magic Games for all to see when he entered his state of Dragon Force and knocked them both unconscious for a limited amount of time. Within his mind his inner voice told him to only give into his pride and anger and so he did.

“Kill that bastard. Make him suffer like no other!”

When the Twin Dragons in Dragon Force  both were harmed and defeated by the hands of Natsu on his own, Sting’s bitterness, doubt, and fear grew within his mind especially when he was physically and verbally abused and humiliated  by Jiemma.  Something in him snapped when he thought he had lost his exceed and best friend Lector whom he thought his guild master Jiemma had killed him. In a violent rage, Sting blasted light through the bastard’s chest hoping to end his life in the most intense and painful way imaginable. Luckily Lector, his exceed was saved, but he was blackmailed by Minerva, Jiemma’s daughter to win the magic games to get him back. Sting promised at all costs he would get even went and went as far  to take great delight when she lost to Erza making him the remaining member left of Sabertooth. He wanted her to suffer and anyone else that dared to hurt him in anyway.

“Pathetic. No one shall get in your way. They will all see that in due time.”

Sting when faced with the 5 remaining members of Fairy Tail that were brutally injured savored their suffering by taunting them, but only yielded to give them the win in hope to get Lector back. He didn’t care if they were all beaten to a pulp earlier. They deserved it in his mind.  All that mattered was Lector’s safe return and once they were reunited he swallowed his pride for the time being to aide Fairy Tail later on to fight the dragons from the Eclipse Gate, but never dismissed the fact of them being better then him, When faced with the fact he never fought a dragon before and that his magic at first didn’t effect the beast, he felt discouraged and had to reevaluate his priorities and become more powerful. He would rise in power and be greatly influenced as time passed.  

“You are in control now. Show no mercy to idiots.”

“After the return of the dragons back to their time period, Sting became the new Guild Master of Sabertooth and was respected by his peers. He was feared by everyone outside of it such as the people of Crocus due to his notorious reputation and the might and power they witnessed in the Magic Games. During that time he trained and held onto his grudge having his negative feelings to give him that motivation to push himself to new heights. When he was notified by a letter written by Erza to tell him of Minerva’s where abouts and that she had joined the Dark Guild Tautros, Rogue and him rushed to the scene to get her back from remaining in the dark guild and had to fight the infamous demon Mard Geer from one of Zeref’s  the dark wizard’s books. Sting’s dark ambitions and goals further increased to surpass those who challenged him.

“How dare he lie to you. These fools will get what is coming to them.”

His fears were then realized to find himself helpless when Acnologia as a dragon made himself known in the skies. Sting’s heart palpitated violently in his chest along with Rogue and the other dragon slayers that were raised by dragons not knowing at the time, that his father was waking up within him. To discover Jiemma his former master had become a demon and wanted to exact revenge upon him and Rogue was also a huge factor that fed into his fears and anger. The twin dragons were victorious and later on witnessed  Zeref mention part of his plot. Lastly, when the demons were going to wipe out ethernano and kill all of the mages with magic deficiency illness with the faces project, the dragons from within the dragon slayers emerged and told the truth about their reason for being in the present timeline. Sting on the surface was confused and grateful, but this was merely a facade for the inner turmoil he felt brewing up within him for the deception and how different his life could have been had his father not lied to him.

“You can rise from this fate. You will get stronger. Remember that.”

With his father no longer in his body and no more antibodies to prevent the dragon seed (dragonfication) from growing, Sting’s magic flourished with his training while working out his anger through brutal sessions as he reminded himself he had to get more powerful for his authority as a leader and to surpass others. His negativity also reached a new plateu as he never had forgiven what he had endured. When the war happened between the Alvarez Empire, he reached a new low and entered a deep depression furthering the changes of dragonfication going on within him. Having been ambushed and crucified, he once more had to be rescued by Fairy Tail, the guild that in his mind that mocked him. The voice would remind him all the time that he was to weak and he had so much to overcome.

“You’re better then this. Show no mercy. Your time will come.”

To make matters worse at his lowest point of doubting himself as a leader and having a nervous breakdown of losing lives in his charge, Yukino from his guild slaps him in the face to bring him back to his senses. For a moment he is stunned and his pride shot to pieces, but after hearing her plea to be the leader he needs to be he vows vengeance to have anyone from his guild who could still fight take out as many enemies  as possible.  A more powerful villain shows up only to relocate him from his group. Luckily he comes back just in time to save the life of Yukino from a horrible fate. He then squares off against the one known as Larcade who puts him through Hell and back by testing his resolve further increasing his wrath to kill him. Sting overcomes the magic of pleasure by eating it since it is white and light and adds to his own power to use his more powerful spells without much effort.

[littlemissheartfilia]

Son of the Don

ITS HEERREEEEE~! 

I’m so excited! Are you excited?? So anyone who doesn’t know this is the start of my next new ambitious fic series. I got the idea for it to be a part of Stingue week but only the first chapter will be. After that I’ll upload weekly, probably every Saturday, and I’ll be honest, I have no idea how long this will be but I’m predicting at least ten more chapters probably more. 

Long story without my rambling: Sting’s a detective in the 1930′s. Rogue’s the son of a mafia Don. There will be lots of angst~ Enjoy :_)

Oh this is also on AO3 now! This chap caps out at about 4k words!

Part(s):  [1]   [2]   [3]   [4]   [5]   [6]   [7]    [8]

Series: To Love or to Lose is a Yukinerva aspect of this universe

Pairing(s): Stingue, eventual yukinerva and orfus, possible gajevy or nalu

Setting: New York City by Long Island 1935.

Summary: With a rise in murder cases, poverty, drunken brawls, and thievery Sting Eucliffe is watching his city go up in flames. The Great War killed everyone else he knew. The stock market crash destroyed any hope America had left. In such difficult times Sting struggles to fight off the past and to find a hope that’ll keep him going.

After ten years in a foreign country Rogue Cheney finds himself at the bottom of the world’s pit of despair. Yet he can’t seem to find the emotion to care. Even if he could it would serve the future Don of the Cheney Clan no good. His father has a business to run. And he has a lot to learn.

September 2, 1935

The long drag from the cigarette tastes foul in his mouth for the first time in his life. The ashes flare up brightly then recede just as quickly into a charcoal colored stub on the end of the stick. Sting Eucliffe held the smoke in for a few moments, letting the putrid taste sit on his tongue.

It’s fine, he tells himself. He deserves this, he knows. The cigarette is just a pale imitation for the world that tried to kill him every day. Society was the flame and Sting was the tobacco. He was always being chased, always being lit on fire for other’s amusement. And the certain other he thought of was permanently stuck in the back of his mind, disintegrating every last happy memory he’d had. Just like the embers chase away the mint tasting menthol with every inhale.

He blew the smoke out through his nose at first and then, when he couldn’t stand the taste any longer, he opened his mouth to release it all at once. He watched it billow into a hazy fog that quickly covered up the dull gray of the ceiling tiles. The smoke was clouding over everything until, even with the golden light of evening coming through the slanted blinds, Sting thought that his entire office was turning gray.

He was just about to take another drag when there came a knock on the door. He sighed as he sat back, the squeak that followed sounded like chills up his chair’s spine. “Come in,” he moaned to the closed glass door.

In a moment his silver haired secretary peeked inside. Her round cheeks were as rosy as always, and it shocked Sting, the contrast such a fair haired young creature had in this dull office. “Detective?” she called.

Sting sat forward, pushing the butt of his cigarette into his ashtray. Trying for a smile he said, “Yukino, don’t be shy now. What can I do for you?”

Yukino slipped her way between the door and stood before him fully. “Chief has been asking for you. Says he’s got another tough case that he needs you for.” Yukino paused and Sting casually cast a glance outside his office. The blinds were always down but he kept them slanted slightly so he could see basic movement within the precinct.

Sure enough, there was Chief Jiemma standing impatiently by Yukino’s reception desk, tapping his foot and glaring at everyone. Sting also noticed how suddenly every officer in the station was dutifully doing their work, noses to their files or telephones so they wouldn’t have to look at the Chief. He didn’t like to be looked at.

Sting blew air out of his nose. “Yikes, he doesn’t look happy,” he remarked.

Yukino clasped her hands neatly in front of her long pressed skirt. “I would be wary. The departments been breathing down his neck because of the rising unsolved murders.”

Sting rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he said then he stood up. “Alright, I’ll be there in a moment.”

Yukino nodded and shyly slipped out of his office to tell Jiemma he would be present soon. Sting, meanwhile, ran a hand through his slicked back blonde hair. The day was wearing thin, and so was his appearance. Soon his hair would start sticking up in random spots, this gel was the only way he could keep it controlled.

But it wasn’t time to think about that right now. If Jiemma was being hounded from HR that likely meant he was going to hound Sting too. It wasn’t like Sting was already up to his knees in unsolved, no lead murder cases. He was starting to believe crime in this city was going to consume them all. Not to mention the whispers he’d heard that gangs had been forming in the dregs of back alley residence areas. This city is going to shit... Sting thought as he walked around his office desk and out into the tense silence of the precinct.

He kept his back straight as he approached, already fingering another cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Chief?” Sting said lighting up the cigarette as he approached.

Jiemma grumbled and crossed his arms, looking down at Sting from his impossible height and bushy face of hair. “Ass in gear, Eucliffe, we got another murder case. Fifteen year old girl this time. That brings this precinct ten cases behind and HR is going to start making cuts if you can’t do your job right.” His voice was deep, gruff like it always was when he’d been drinking too much.

Sting simply nodded and didn’t meet his gaze, looking instead to the cigarette between his fingers as he flicked away the excess ashes. “What are the details of the case? I’ll look over them all tonight.”

Jiemma huffed and frowned. “No, not tonight, now -” He shoved a thin folder into Sting’s chest and made to walk away, forcing Sting to follow him as he went. “I don’t want any excuses this time, Detective. There’s a reason all these unsolved murders are piling up and I want to see results from you.”

Jiemma stomped around each desk, his expression just as heavy as his footsteps, towards his own office. Each officer either found an excuse to suddenly get up from their chairs before Jiemma passed, or a reason to duck under their desk, leaving Jiemma’s footpath empty. Sting followed obediently, like a trained cat, not making any noise.

“You think they’re all connected, Chief?”

With one hand on the metal of his office door handle Jiemma whipped around, “Of course they’re connected, boy!” he roared and Sting stopped a few extra paces back. “Ten murder cases in three weeks and whispers of a new gang in D4 and you think it’s a coincidence?”

Sting nodded his head and kept his face stoic. “It is suspicious, sir.”

“Right,” Jiemma said standing in the doorway to talk loudly at Sting. “So figure it out, Eucliffe. I want results!”

Without another word Jiemma stepped inside and slammed the door in Sting’s face. He was left standing, cigarette burning uselessly where it hung from his lips. He fingered the edges of the thin file of papers nervously for a moment then turned around.

Every eye in the precinct was on him. Officers stopped in their tracks to stare widely at the show. Sting rolled his eyes and made sure everyone saw. Putting the file under his arm and grabbing the cigarette between his fingers he said, “Alright, back off scamps. Nothing new happened here. Just get back to work before he kills us all for slacking off.”

Instantly life returned to the station as if nothing had happened. Sting began to walk back to his office. It was almost a rarity now when Chief showed up here. He guessed that was the reason for everyone’s curiosity. Sting didn’t know where Jiemma was always running off to, and he didn’t really have the courage to ask.

The last time someone asked Jiemma a personal question it was his daughter and she didn’t leave the station without some nasty bruises. No one really questioned the chief after that. They all just stuck to their jobs, because what he did didn’t matter as long as they got paid.

Sting hated that atmosphere. It should matter to them. He had never been able to get close to the chief’s daughter, not that he wanted to, but Minerva Orland had always seemed to be hiding something. He had a feeling that Jiemma was the reason for that, even if most of the time she acted like she enjoyed the torture Jiemma would inflict on them. Sting had a gut feeling she was just acting out of self-preservation.

Not unlike the rest of them, Sting observed. In all his years on the force he had found that that’s really all life is. Just a world of self-serving bastards trying once more in pitiful desperation to survive until tomorrow.

He slapped the file on his desk and moved to the cabinets lined up on his wall so he could look at the others all together. Ten cases. Ten murders. And only one lead across all of them that was currently skipping town.

Sting hated to admit it but cases were never this empty. Not in a city as big as New York, not with telegraphs and telephones making communication-and subsequently gossip-easier to hear. The more he struggled with this the more he thought that evidence was purposefully being hidden or stolen from the police. Someone wanted very much to cover up their tracks.

The chief’s words rang in his ears once more, Ten murder cases in three weeks and whispers of a new gang forming down in D4 and you think it’s a coincidence? Sting swallowed hard. If New York was breeding new gangs, dangerous ones that killed for sport or perhaps something worse, he would have an entirely different case on his hand. One that could kill him at any turn if he slipped up.

Sting walked from his desk over to the table by his cabinets, and poured a glass of whiskey. He took a slow sip and let the burn ease its way down his throat. If this did end up killing him what would be the harm in a few more liquid deaths before he got there.

Rogue Cheney hated slackers. He had no sympathy for the stupid sluggers who gave excuse after excuse without result. So the idea of standing here, ready to kick down the door of the shithole his weasel of a soldier stuffed himself in now was repulsing to say the least.

He had told Damien over and over again to not fuck up. To clean up every scrap of evidence. Hell, Rogue had even made it easy and gotten one of their associates to go into the precinct and wipe any evidence the police did manage to find. But still Damien was here, running for his life, because despite all of their careful planning and protocols in place a missing person’s report had been put out along with a BOLO for arrest with Damien’s face on it.

After thirty minutes of listening silently at the front door he had heard enough to know that his weasel was still inside, talking in hushed tones to someone who sounded like his wife. Rogue turned around, the silk material of his dress clothes swishing delicately as he did. With one look at his soldiers- his soldatos -behind him, they were charging inside the rundown shack they called a complex.

Rogue watched each soldato stomp inside. He listened calmly to the screams that followed. Every man had his weapon drawn as he stepped across the threshold. Rogue waited until the first shrieks of shock had died down, and he knew that his targets had been wrangled together, before he stepped in.

Rogue held his head high, taking his hat off as he entered. He held the hat where his heart should have been. With a fierce gaze he looked over the room. The weasel was clutching onto his wife and child. Coward. Rogue thought. A wiry frame of a man too weak to protect his own. His long face paled as Rogue strutted forward and all of a sudden his mouth was unhinging wildly but no sound made it out.

Rogue’s shined shoes clicked on the pine flooring as it creaked under his weight. He opened his arms and gave Damien a grin. “Damien,” he spoke drawing out his words in a thick Italian accent. He had practiced it just to remind Damien of where Rogue and his family came from. Things may be different in America but Damien had to remember that Italians like him and his father don’t play by their rules. America is weak, but Rogue wouldn’t be.

He was only two steps away when Damien let go of his wife, who then hugged her seven year old son closer to her. He was on his knees now, pleading, getting dirt all over the expensive suit Rogue’s father had given him.

Rogue sneered, managing to look happy whilst doing so. “Skipping town, Evans?”

“ Capo,” Damien pleaded putting both his hands together. “ Capo, please. Mercy-” Damien tried to shuffle forward on his knees but Rogue slyly slipped a pistol out of his pocket and leveled it at Damien’s head. There was barely a split second for Damien to realize he was staring down the barrel of a gun before the bullet split its way through his skull.

Damien’s wife screamed as his body fell to the floor, all blood splatter and leaky wounds. Much to Rogue’s surprise the little boy barely even flinched. He just stared at his father’s dead body, all dark eyes almost black in the dingy room, while his mother shook him and went into hysterics.

Rogue looked at the boy for a while. When the kid didn’t meet his eyes he bent down, knees hanging over the blood puddle. “Come ti chiami?” Rogue asked and kept staring. Finally the boy looked up and Rogue noticed a single tear was falling down his left cheek.

He looked confused and the more he stared the more his eyebrows creased. “What’s your name, son?” When the boy didn’t answer Rogue continued with a nasally “Huh, don’t you got one?” Rogue jerked the barrel of the pistol in his direction to get his attention.

Suddenly the boy straightened. His mother by now had collapsed on the floor and was whispering Damien’s name over and over again, like a mantra, as she crawled slowly to his body. “F-Frosch?” the boy stuttered. He swallowed thickly, a bead of sweat falling down his temple from his head of chalky brown hair.

Rogue chuckled. “Say it clearly, piccolo. Be proud of who you are.”

Frosch nodded slightly, his pupils now shakily darting between each of Rogue’s eyes. He was now pointedly avoiding the corpse of his father. “Frosch,” he said loud and clear.

Rogue smirked. “That’s a good, boy. You know you could turn into something-” Rogue talked with the gun in his hand, gesturing casually to Damien’s body. “-not like this failure. And listen I’ve already killed a lot today, and I could take you too, but kids- eehh-” Rogue made a face and waved his hands searching for the words. “Let’s just say we Italians have a strong moral code for some things. So, Frosch, if you behave and follow orders, you may be able to stay with us from now on.”

Frosch’s eyes seemed to level out at the size of dinner plates. His expression lost its confusion and gained something that Rogue knew all too well. Blankness. Emptiness. And judging by the deadset in Frosch’s eyes Rogue would say it was coupled with the inability to feel anything when he knew he should be in a similar state as his weeping mother.

Still he didn’t spare her another glance as she lay on her husband’s chest, trying to wipe the blood off his forehead in vain. “And what if I don’t want to?” Frosch asked.

Rogue gave a noncommittal shrug and pointed once more with his gun to the corpse of Frosch’s father. Frosch looked at his father again, but it was almost like the first time and his eyes widened all over again. In a split second he pieced it all together. His head snapped back up to Rogue who had extended a hand.

Without looking back Frosch took it and followed Rogue as he stood up to bring Frosch out of the house. The boy tried to look back a few times, especially when his mother began calling his name. She nearly reached him with her hands to pull him back.

But Rogue didn’t need to say anything before she was restrained, he placed one hand on Frosch’s shoulder to keep him from turning around. Walking out of the shack her ghastly shrieks followed as the soldatos closed in, all guns and stern bodies blocking view of her only offspring. The last thing they heard was a high pitched screech cut off at its apex, leaving the now silent air bone chilling in the tail end of summer.

“Yer a fucking idiot, Ryos.”

Rogue fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Stop calling me that,” Rogue said in a flat tone.

The man standing in front of him, his brother, took another look over at the boy Rogue had picked up. Since arriving back at the Cheney house, Frosch had been rather quiet, though Rogue couldn’t be sure if that was normal for the boy. Now he was sitting patiently, thighs on his palms and staring at his kicking feet in the large grand foyer of the Cheney mansion. Rogue briefly wondered why the boy hadn’t broken down by now. He doubted Frosch was used to the mafias tactics; but the implication given by his reaction to all this suggested otherwise, and that put a knot in Rogue’s stomach.

In his experience, the family didn’t deal in children. Not since his elder brother had nearly been killed for being the child of a hidden affair. But Rogue also knew that the family held its own code of honors, one which involved no killing of children. For now that meant he would have to take Frosch under his wing, get the boy situated in a housing agreement with someone willing, and hopefully- hopefully-the boy wouldn’t be too much trouble.

Gajeel scoffed, he put his scarred hands in the pockets of his baggy slacks. “Kid looks like a wimp.”

“Mind your business, fratello,” Rogue warned.

“You know the boss doesn’t deal in kids,” Gajeel barked at him. “What makes you think you can keep him?” Rogue opened his mouth but before he could say anything Gajeel added. “And don’t call me, fratello.”

Rogue curled his lips. “Your mother is my mother; that makes us fratelli. But I’m not here to debate blood with you, where’s the boss?”

Gajeel groaned and turned from Rogue to light up a cigar. “Fuck if I know. He’s your kin, I was just leaving.”

Gajeel made as if to walk away but Rogue grabbed his elbow and gripped it hard. “Why are you here, anyway?” Rogue asked.

Gajeel ripped his arm out of Rogue’s grasp, his teeth grinding a little too much on the butt of his cigar. “Relax, I was looking for the boss too but he ain’t here.”

Rogue sneered. His elder half-brother only came around for the boss if he wanted something. And after all the stunts Gajeel had pulled with his drinking, drugs, and fucking around he’d been cut off from any legitimate claims to the Cheney’s estate or expenses, even after Rogue's father had been so kind as to allow him an illegitimate chance at it. Rogue despised the idea of Gajeel coming back and asking for something now. After all that’s happened Gajeel can’t possibly expect the boss to do anything for the son of an affair that wasn’t even his own.

“All of the power offered to you in this house and you still seek the boss’s money just to chase the dregs of society…” Rogue commented harshly but Gajeel didn’t grace him with a response. He offered no more words and his reaching hand fell back to his side. Gajeel gave him a hairy eyeball before shrugging off the touch and stomping out of the main foyer.

Rogue watched his body disappear behind the closed door. His attention was broken finally when Frosch’s high pitched voice called to him.

“Do I have to leave now?”

Rogue turned to the boy, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” he asked some of the venom from his talk with Gajeel still present in his tone.

Frosch shrugged. “Last time they couldn’t find the man to take care of me I had to leave.”

Rogue walked lightly up to Frosch. “What do you mean the ‘last time’?” he asked.

Frosch stared up at him with big dark eyes, if the light held them long enough Rogue could tell they were brown but here in the dim foyer before nightfall they looked as black as his pupils. “Back at the orphanage. I went to my first family but they never found the head of the house so I had to leave.”

“Your first family?” Rogue quirked an eyebrow. Frosch just nodded matter of factly. So this boy is used to seeing rotten things? Rogue thought. He frowned slightly and said, “Nevermind, I don’t care. Just go upstairs. Last door on the right is my room you can have it until we figure out where you’ll go.”

Frosch followed his order without hesitation. His small steps echoed in the grand room as he practically ran up the stairs. Rogue let out a heavy breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He turned his attention instead to the problem at hand.

Where was his father? He couldn’t very much bring a new child into the family without permission first, especially one as young as Frosch. And he knew his father’s loathsome attitude towards anyone younger than twenty-five. Most of the time Rogue was even sure his father hated him, his only son, simply for not growing up fast enough.

On a whim Rogue found his feet had brought him into the kitchen where servants were preparing the family’s dinner. Porchetta. His father’s favorite. Though it was hard to tell, wherever the boss was, that a dinner would bring him home tonight.

“Adelina?” Rogue called to the brown haired servant preparing the ingredients and ordering around the other cooks. “Tell me when the boss will be home, ah?” he paused then added, “And make sure the boy in my room is taken care of.”

Adelina nodded vigorously then turned back to her work as one servant dumped steaming water in the wrong pot. She stopped short, finally processing what Rogue had said. “Boy? What boy?”

But Rogue had already left the kitchen. He was suddenly in a state of fathomless boredom. His time was no longer occupied and for the rest of the night he was free. Unless the family suddenly needed him for something. But he doubted they would.

Rogue made his way back to the foyer, grabbed his hat and left the house with a swift wind under his feet. Summer was just ending and New York brought a cool autumn breeze to an otherwise dead cityscape. The Cheney mansion was a bit of a walk away from downtown but Rogue had nothing better to do. He swallowed the idle thoughts that plagued his mind like pond scum floating delicately on top of murky water. He was just bored, nothing more.

Yet still as Rogue continued down the long driveway and turned the corner at the front gates he found himself fighting one persistent thought. One thought that rang true in the small corners of his mind. A small truth that scuttled from the safety of the shadows for to come into the light was to be destroyed. Rogue was a monster, because he wasn’t sure he had ever felt anything at all.

Where Rogue found his feet taking him was further into town than he had planned. Halfway through the walk he stopped thinking and just floated. His soles carried him down the cracked pavement of the outskirts into the smooth cement of the old city. Without a purpose or a direction. He was drifting away from the world but his feet kept walking.

By the time his awareness floated back to him he realized he was walking close to Wall Street. His distaste for the more uppity business types didn’t sit well with him or anyone from his family. And the feeling was mutual. Legality was often ignored within the mafia family of New York. And Rogue knew of quite a few politicians and businessmen that would love to do away with the kind of filth they were so sure a mafia was.

He turned on his heel before he got too far. Turning around Rogue saw the night winding down and street lamps turning on. At this time of night the party goers were just starting to wander the streets. Flapper girls and young men barely out of their parents roofs took to the bars and restaurants.

Rogue despised the idea of interacting with anyone; but sometimes a crowded bar was the best place to be alone. No one cared what you did, what you drank or who you talked to. So he walked into the busiest bar he could see in sight.

The interior was dark, somehow darker than the night outside. It was still lit pleasantly every few feet with golden fluorescents that provided a calming atmosphere. Stirring so differently from the atmospheric light were the people in the bar. Some, who looked like they’d been there a long time, were already drunk and swaying on their seats. There was a jazz band on a stage to the right, and a throng of people dancing in their flowing dress outfits.

Rogue took a seat as far on the end of the bar as he could. He quickly ordered a shot of gin and a bourbon. The gin went down smoothly, too smoothly. The bourbon however took it’s time to burn as it slid down his esophagus. He had barely taken the rim of the cup from his mouth before another shot was slammed down in front of him.

Rogue looked over in distaste. A very smiley blonde was standing, one elbow on the counter and a twinkle in his blue eyes that mimicked the light of the bar. Rogue frowned at him. But the boy just kept on smiling.

Finally he leaned in closer, and said rather loudly to be heard over the din of the crowd, “Name’s Sting. You look like you need a drink.”

Italian:

Cappo - boss

Come ti chiami? - Whats your name?

Piccolo - little one, term of endearment

Soldato - soldier

Fratello/fratelli - brother/brothers

[splendidlyimperfect]

Sting and Rogue barely escape Sabertooth with their lives, and Sting turns to the only place he can think of to help - Fairy Tail. While they try to sort out their feelings and recover from the abuse Jiemma inflicted on them, Sting and Rogue must help the other guilds protect Fiore from their biggest threat yet - dragons.

Chapter Summary: The gate is destroyed, but the war isn't quite over yet.

Chapters (10/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Characters: Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Erza Scarlet, Lucy Heartfilia, Wendy Marvell, Porlyusica (Fairy Tail), Makarov Dreyar, Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine, Future Rogue Cheney, Jiemma (Fairy Tail), Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Platonic Cuddling, Sign Language, Magic Fusion, Unison Raids, Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 3 of what we choose to become

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Natsu was numb. He knew he was fighting – fists connecting, icy fire burning through him – but he couldn’t feel it. Lyon stumbled along behind him, Gray in his arms, and Natsu forced himself to keep his gaze forward. The angry haze of despair from before had been tempered by Sting’s touch, and now all he felt was a deep, heavy sense of loss.

He shuddered, touching his chest as part of his power flowed up to Sting. Gray’s magic was in there, too – Natsu could feel it, wrapped around his gently like the embrace they’d shared before he’d—

Natsu exhaled sharply, shaking his head and taking another step forward. They had to make it to the gate. That was all that mattered now. He had to help, had to fight so that nobody else he loved would…

Natsu shook his head and moved forward.

“Look!” Lyon’s voice was hoarse as he looked up, and Natsu slowly followed his gaze. A blinding flash of light exploded from the dragon’s back, and a second later it roared, a pained sound that tore through the city as it quickly changed course. “It’s working,” Lyon breathed.

“Hurry,” was all Natsu could manage as he moved quicker, picking his way through the rubble as they ducked into an alley. The square was close, and there was the gate, dark and deadly as it loomed over the city. “We’re almost there.”

Continue reading on AO3

A shadow filled the air, the body of the dragon blocking out the light of the blood moon as it careened closer and closer to the ground. Natsu could see people running – Lucy and Wendy were guiding them all away from the gate toward where Natsu and Lyon were standing.

The dragon hit the ground with a fantastic sound that ripped through the square, bursting any windows left intact with the intensity of the blast. Natsu watched impassively as the colossal body skidded across the ground, slamming into the left pillar of the gate and instantly turning it to rubble. Giant chunks of stone crashed around its prone body, tearing up the cobblestone and leaving craters in their wake.

The locking mechanisms on the door began to crumble as the entire door splintered to pieces, bursting out in an explosion that shook the ground around them. Lyon stumbled and Natsu quickly turned to him, grabbing his arm and guiding him over to where Lucy and Wendy were crouched behind a chunk of debris.

“Did it work?” Lucy asked, voice trembling. She looked up at Natsu, and then her eyes widened as her gaze moved to Gray’s still body. Natsu ignored her pained gasp as he stood again, staring at the ruined gate and the dragon’s still body.

“It worked,” he said quietly as they both started to shimmer, everything fading as the edges of the dragon slowly became translucent.

The tiny flicker of relief in Natsu’s chest lasted until he saw a human form next to the dragon’s body, struggling to stand. The man pushed himself to his feet, long white hair tangled and full of dirt. His clothing was shredded, and his arm hung and an unnatural angle by his side.

“You,” Natsu growled as the sorrow in his chest blazed into a desperate anger. Future Rogue looked up at him, expression dazed, and Natsu’s lip curled back in a snarl as he stared down the man that had killed Gray.

Natsu took a step forward, desperate to incinerate the man before he disappeared, but someone beat him to it.

“You bastard!” It was Sting, stumbling toward Future Rogue with something held tightly against his chest. He set it down gently, then rushed forward, slamming a fist encased in holy light into Future Rogue’s face. “You fucking bastard,” Sting sobbed as Future Rogue’s head snapped back from the blow.

Natsu stared, eyes widening as his gaze moved back to the unmoving figure on the ground. No.

Another blow slammed into Future Rogue’s stomach, throwing him backward. Sting lurched forward, ignoring the blood pouring from a deep cut on his forehead, and flung himself on top of Future Rogue, tears streaming down his cheeks as he hit him again and again.

“Sting.” Natsu could barely push the word out past the tight ache in his chest – there was no more room for heartbreak, no space for any more loss inside of him. He barely registered Wendy darting across the courtyard to the figure he knew was Rogue, or the way the rest of the gate and the dragons had slowly faded away into nothing. All he could see was Sting, and the furious heartache that tore his expression apart as he slammed Future Rogue against the ground again.

“Why?” Sting gasped. “I…”

He trailed off as Future Rogue’s edges started to blur as well, and as Natsu moved closer, he could see an expression of shocked confusion on Future Rogue’s face. “Impossible,” Future Rogue murmured. “But that means…”

His gaze drifted over to Wendy and Rogue.

“You killed him.” Sting’s words were barely understandable through his tears, and Natsu’s heart cracked again, another tiny piece of him succumbing to grief. Sting swung a final, feeble fist at Future Rogue, then collapsed forward onto his hands.

Natsu watched, wide-eyed, as Future Rogue slowly reached up and touched Sting’s cheek with a fading hand. The murderous expression on his face was gone, replaced by something full of pain and regret. Natsu expected Sting to push him away or hit him again, but instead Sting shuddered and pressed his face into Future Rogue’s palm.

Slowly, Future Rogue’s hand moved across Sting’s cheek, brushing his hair back as he gazed intently into Sting’s eyes. Sting let out another loud sob, then suddenly leaned forward, pulling Future Rogue into a tight embrace. As Future Rogue’s body slowly dissolved into tiny sparks of light, he whispered something Natsu didn’t catch into Sting’s ear.

Then the light was gone, and Future Rogue with it.

Natsu stood frozen to the ground, torn between comforting Sting and giving him space for his anger. Everything was deathly silent, as if the entire city was holding its breath. Sting didn’t look up at Natsu, instead dragging himself to his feet and staggering toward where Wendy was kneeling next to Rogue.

“Can you…”

Wendy shook her head, touching Sting’s arm gently as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry,” Natsu heard her say as he moved closer. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Natsu’s stomach churned as he took in the state of Rogue’s body. The right side of his head had taken a heavy blow – the shape of it didn’t look quite right and the ground around his ear was thick with blood. His body was battered, and a shard of something jagged protruded from his stomach.

Sting collapsed, burying his face in Rogue’s tunic. “You can’t leave me,” he begged, face pressed against the bloody, tattered fabric. “Things were just starting to go right.” He grasped Rogue’s face in both hands, placing a desperate kiss to his forehead and tracing the shape of his cheeks with bloody fingers. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Sting.” Natsu’s voice was barely a whisper as he slid down to the ground next to Sting, wrapping an arm tightly around his shoulders. “Come here.” Sting struggled against him briefly, but his grief allowed Natsu to overpower him and pull him close. Sting buried his face in Natsu’s chest and let out a loud, heart-wrenching wail.

“Why?” he sobbed, grasping at the fabric of Natsu’s shirt. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Natsu managed, and then he was crying again, too full of heartache to hold it all in. “I’m so sorry,” he said as he pressed his face into Sting’s hair.  

“I love him.” Sting’s voice broke and Natsu’s heart cracked again, threatening to shatter.

“I know,” Natsu murmured. “I know you do.” He choked on a sob, pulling Sting as close as possible. “I love Gray, too.”

“Fuck,” Sting whispered, trembling as he reached out and touched the back of Rogue’s still hand again. “We… it doesn’t feel like we won.”

Natsu shook his head, gripping Sting harder, as if he would dissolve into sparks of light too if Natsu didn’t hold him tight enough. “We lost too much,” he said, the words muffled by Sting’s hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I might be able to help.”

Natsu slowly relaxed his grip on Sting, looking up to see Ultear making her way over to them. He immediately growled, baring his teeth at her as she approached.

“Fuck off,” he said, keeping his arm around Sting. “You wanted this to happen.”

“I never wanted this,” Ultear said gently, kneeling down next to Rogue’s body. “I just wanted to fix things.” Natsu rumbled protectively as Ultear reached out and touched Rogue’s chest, and Sting looked up at her, lip curled in a fierce snarl. “Please, let me help,” Ultear begged. “I might be able to save him.” 

~

Sting froze at Ultear’s words, staring down at Rogue, then slowly shook his head.

“You can’t fix this,” he said, voice hoarse. “He’s… gone.” Sting’s voice broke on the last word and Natsu squeezed him tightly.

“But you were connected,” Ultear argued. “The spell. I might be able to… turn his timeline back, through that magic.” Natsu stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t fix it – not entirely. But I might be able to… negate some of the damage.”

Sting stared at her, trying not to let hope take over the despair that filled his chest. “Negate?”

“It has to go somewhere else,” Ultear said. “It wouldn’t heal him completely, but it could save him.”

“But someone else would have to die.”

Ultear didn’t say anything, just stared at the ground next to Rogue’s body.

“I’ll do it.” Natsu’s voice was so quiet that Sting barely heard him. “If you can save him, I’ll do it.”

“But…” Sting looked desperately between Natsu and Rogue. “No, that wouldn’t—”

“You deserve to be together,” Natsu said, squeezing Sting’s shoulder and then letting go. “You’re safe now, and you should be happy.”

“But you—”

“I can’t be,” Natsu whispered, voice breaking as he looked back toward the rubble. Sting could see Lyon there, with Gray’s body still cradled in his arms. “I don’t… I can’t live in a world without Gray. But I could give you a world with Rogue in it.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Sting argued, trying to breathe through the desperate tangle of emotions in his chest.

“He might not have to,” Ultear interrupted, frowning as she ran her hands above Rogue’s body. The area where the rune had been lit up with a dull echo of his shadow magic. “I could share it.” Then she shuddered, drawing her hands back. “There’s so much. It might kill you both.”

Sting hung his head, grasping at Rogue’s arms.

“I was connected, too.” Gajeel’s voice came from behind them, rough and gravelly as he knelt down next to Sting. “Splitting the damage three ways would help, right?”

Sting looked at Gajeel, eyes wide. “You would… do that?”

“He’s family,” Gajeel replied gruffly, looking up at Ultear. “So, would it work?”

Ultear hesitated for a moment before responding. “It should. I can’t see why it wou—”

“Four is better than three.” Laxus appeared next to Natsu, reaching out and resting his fingertips lightly on Rogue’s shoulder.

“And five is better than four,” Wendy added from where she was already settled next to them. Cobra, who had been standing off to the side, sighed and stepped forward as well, not saying anything, but crouching down next to Wendy.

Sting’s eyes filled with tears of a different kind as he looked up at the other dragon slayers around him. Their faces were all set in firm lines of determination that made Sting’s chest swell with an unfamiliar feeling.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, turning to look at Natsu. “What about Gray?”

Natsu tensed. “What do you—”

“He was connected too. His magic, I could feel it.”

“He was?” Natsu looked down at his hands, summoning a tiny bit of fire magic. It was still tinged with blue. “You mean…” He looked up at Ultear.

“It’s possible,” she said hesitantly. “But it would mean splitting the healing between them. It might not be enough.”

“We have to try,” Sting insisted. Natsu looked like he might argue for a second, then nodded slowly, pushing himself up and stumbling back over to Lyon. A few seconds later he returned with Gray cradled against his chest and laid him down gently on the ground next to Rogue. The sight of them there together, still and pale, brought a fresh wave of tears to Stings’ eyes,

“We have to hurry,” Ultear said gently. “We don’t have much time.”

Sting let out a shaky breath, grabbing Natsu’s hand and squeezing it tightly as everyone reached out and rested a hand on Rogue and Gray. A tense silence filled the air as Ultear stood, raising her hands above them and letting her magic flow downward. It twisted around the dragon slayers, running through them and over their hands, then coalescing between Rogue and Gray.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

Everyone nodded and she exhaled, closing her eyes and pushing.

It hurt. Not as badly as the first spell, but painful nonetheless, like every nerve in Sting’s body was on fire. Natsu’s hand was clutching his so tightly he could barely feel his fingers, and he stared at the magic that ran from Gray and Rogue’s bodies and wound around his arms. It pushed and pulled, stealing his breaths and his pulse and replacing it with sharp aches and a stuttered heartbeat.

The pain crescendoed suddenly, burning Sting from the inside out. He gritted his teeth and bit back a scream, then slumped forward as the pain ended as quickly as it had begun. Exhaustion flooded through his body, along with a bone-deep ache that blurred his vision at the edges.

“Did it… work?” he gasped, reaching out and touching Rogue’s forehead with a shaking hand. Ultear dropped back down to her knees, reaching out and running her fingers over Gray and Rogue’s throats to feel for a pulse. There was a terrifying moment of silence, but as Sting’s vision slowly started to fade, Ultear breathed a sigh of relief.

“They’re alive.”  

[bazzaya]

a demon’s plight - part one

A multichapter series regarding Minerva’s healing/redemption Post-Tartaros.

Summary: Following the incident with Tartaros, Erza tries to help Minerva recover both physically and mentally. One of her only hopes is taking her to Porlyusica to see if Minerva can be made human again.

A/N: Hey, did you know that apparently it’s canon that Minerva went to Porlyusica post-Tartaros to get the whole demon thing checked out? Yeah so here’s that, but with Minerza, because that’s my thing. Probably will be multiple chapters. Idk if it’ll have a happy ending or not. We’ll see :)

Word Count: ~3.2k

[Ao3 Link/FFNet Link]

Enjoy!

"Are you good to walk on your own?"

As she was trying to get herself to stand, Mirajane glanced up to see Minerva in front of her with her hand on her hip. She was surprised by Minerva's concern, but she soon schooled her features and merely shook her head, "I'm fine, but thank you for the concern." Mirajane figured she should at least be polite; Minerva seemed to have a change of heart and she was the one to kill Kyouka, besides Mirajane didn't have the energy to be difficult, "There's something I need to handle on my own anyways…"

Minerva only shrugged and gave a dismissive wave at that, unbothered either way, "Suit yourself. I'll look over Titania in the meantime as you run along with whatever business you have."

Mirajane's gaze steeled on Minerva once she stood, "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

At Mirajane's cautious look, Minerva rolled her one eye, "Oh, please.. It's not like I'm going to try anything while you're gone. You needn't worry over sweet little Titania." Minerva looked over at Erza in that moment, seeing the battered and bruised mage practically unconscious on the ground, "...Well, aside from the obvious worry there, I mean."

Mirajane seemed more convinced with that, and her expression softened and she nodded appreciatively, "Thank you. I'll leave her to you."

Minerva watched as Mirajane left, though soon Minerva returned her attention to Erza. She walked over towards Erza and kneeled by her side, making sure that Erza was at least alive, "It's over now. We're all safe. There's no more Face to worry about, and the demons are all gone." There was a beat of pause, "All except for one, that is."

Erza languidly jolted at the suggestion of another demon still roaming around, and she tried to sit up, "There's still one left? Where is it?" She coughed out, her attempts at sitting up proving to be futile.

Minerva coaxed Erza into lying back down, "It's me, you idiot."

"Huh?" Erza turned her head to face Minerva, a confused eyebrow raised, "...Oh, right. I almost forgot about your...situation."

"Flattering, really, but I know they're hollow words. One look at me and it's easy to remember." Minerva sneered, "But enough of that. Do you want to go join up with the rest of your friends? I'll take you to them."

Nodding at that, Erza slowly started to sit up again, "Yeah… I should see how everyone's doing, make sure they're alright…"

Minerva held out her hand for Erza to take, and from there she pulled Erza to her feet and wrapped Erza's arm around her shoulder to keep Erza upright. Minerva started walking with Erza in tow towards where she last saw action, hoping to find the rest of Fairy Tail there. Along the way and amongst a very heavy silence, Minerva noticed how Erza's gaze was trained on her and had been trained on her for the longest time, and Erza didn't look to be letting up anytime soon.

"Now… You know I thrive off of the attention, but you of all people to be staring at me like that is at least moderately unnerving." Minerva warned, glancing at Erza out of the corner of her eye.

Erza blinked a few times, surprised to have been caught, but she shook her head to regain her composure, "Sorry… I was just thinking about something."

Minerva raised an eyebrow, "About me?"

"Sort of." Erza frowned out of sympathy, "I was thinking about everything that's happened. You scorned yourself for being so weak as to have been subjected to this whole transformation… I wondered if there was anything to do about perhaps reversing it."

Letting out an annoyed growl, Minerva tore her gaze away and bared her teeth, "I don't need your sympathy. I was the one who wrought this upon myself. I should have to live with the consequences of my actions, even if it means looking like this forever."

"Did you really bring this upon yourself, though?" Erza tilted her head to get a better look at Minerva, "You know, Minerva… I'm not clueless, and I'm certainly not obtuse. I kept an eye out for you and that guild you ran along to after we crossed paths again. Don't think I didn't hear the rumors about what happened to Succubus Eye. Everyone was obliterated in that place except for you… and it was all because of Kyouka's curse, wasn't it? You must have been strong enough to withstand it. It also must be why you were taken into Tartaros to begin with."

"I was weak enough to allow myself to be taken."

"You can't possibly blame yourself for this."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Titania." Minerva smiled wryly, "If I was strong enough… If I hadn't allowed myself to be petrified with fear… Maybe then I wouldn't have been taken from Succubus Eye. Better yet, if I hadn't been so corrupted by darkness, I wouldn't have been in Succubus Eye to begin with."

Erza furrowed her eyebrows in response, "What's done is done, and there's no use in dwelling upon it. Don't let yourself be bogged down by it, either."

"It must be easy for you to say that when you aren't the one scarred like this forever!" Minerva growled, placing her hand over her blackened eye, "This is a permanent reminder of my weakness and mistakes, and there's nothing I can do to fix it!"

"Perhaps there's nothing you can do, but maybe there's something I can do about it!" Erza countered, raising her voice to try and get Minerva to listen to her.

Minerva let out a bitter laugh, "What, are you planning on using your magic to change into a nurse's outfit for little old me? A pretty sight that may be, but it will get you nowhere in reversing the damage that's been done."

Erza scowled at that, growing irritated, "Would it kill you to take me seriously for five seconds?! Listen to me, Minerva! Are you truly thinking of returning to Sabertooth, to your home, continuing to be so stubborn and standoffish? If you really want to change, start by accepting help and stop insisting you do everything on your own!"

"Do you really think that Sabertooth would accept a monster like me?" Minerva sneered, twisting her lips.

"Sting and Rogue sure accepted you with open arms." Erza shot back, "Even with you looking like that."

Minerva averted her gaze and clenched her jaw, unable to dispute that. Erza took that as an invitation to talk further, "There. Now at least hear me out before you start fighting back, alright?"

With a pronounced tilt of her head, almost like she was pouting, Minerva looked back over at Erza, "Fine."

"A friend of the Master's… she's quite adept in healing the most obscure of ailments. She was even able to make me an artificial eye after I lost mine as a child." Erza held her hand over her right eye at the memory, though she quickly focused back on Minerva, "There is very little she cannot do. I wondered if perhaps she would be able to reverse the transformation you were put under."

"You sound hopeful." Minerva commented, a dry tone to her voice.

Letting out an enervated sigh, Erza closed her eyes, "Yes, I am. I want to help you, Minerva. Just allow me that much."

Minerva didn't respond right away to that, she merely glanced Erza over and kept her jaw clenched tight. Her expression gradually came to be less aggressive, and soon she caved in and nodded her head. Something in her couldn't deny Erza that much. "Fine. I'll give your healer friend a shot. For you."

Erza allowed herself to flash a brief smile Minerva's way, "Thank you. You won't regret it."

Adjusting her hold on Erza as they walked, Minerva simply kept her gaze fixed ahead, refusing to look at Erza, "I better not."

"Wait… She's not coming back with us?" Sting tilted his head, confusion written all over his expression. He turned to Rogue, eyebrows raised, "But that's the reason why we came here in the first place…!"

Erza frowned to herself, staring at the ground by her feet, "I'm well aware… However, she doesn't want to return, not yet. She doesn't believe she deserves to return to Sabertooth in the state she's in. I believe I have a plan to change her back to her human form, but for now… she's not going back."

"That's ridiculous! I don't care how creepy she looks! Milady's coming back with us and that's final!" Sting shouted, fanged teeth exposed in his rage.

"Sting… That's enough." Rogue interjected, "If it is milady's wish, who are we to deny her what she wants? Everything is her decision, whether we like it or not." He focused back at Erza, and despite his composed nature, Rogue still could not completely hide the concern and disappointment on his features, "Do you think she will ever want to return to Sabertooth?"

"That's… a tough question to answer." Erza admitted shamefully, still unable to make eye contact, "I think that if she feels that she has repented, or if she thinks that she is no longer a monster… she will deem herself worthy of your company. I cannot say anything for certain… I'm sorry."

Sting's anger seemed to wane, and he unclenched his fists and frowned in helplessness, "We just want her to come back home, man… All of this is her bastard of a father's fault! Milady didn't deserve any of what he did to her!"

Erza raised an eyebrow at that, and Rogue took it upon himself to explain, "We encountered Jiemma here, shortly after you left with milady. Apparently he was the one who came to Tartaros first, and he was the one that had Succubus Eye attacked so that Minerva would be brought here and would be made into what she was." He frowned as well, averting his gaze, "This was all Jiemma's doing, what happened to Minerva… and yet he still had the gall to call her useless and weak…" He wound up taking a fistful of the fabric of his sleeve as he spoke from his growing anger as well, though he was faster in calming himself than Sting.

Erza finally looked up at that, eyebrows furrowed and a new look of determination in her eyes, "I'll fix this. I promise this to you. She will be back at Sabertooth where she belongs. Please, just allow me the opportunity to reverse what has happened to her. Then she will want to come home."

"We trust you, Erza." Rogue nodded, "Let us know if we can be of any help to you."

"Yeah. We want to help her too… We just don't know how…" Sting grunted and hung his head, letting out a heavy breath.

A small smile crossed Erza's lips, and her demeanor softened, "Thank you. She is lucky to have you both at her side in a time like this. I'm sure she will not forget that."

"And hey! You better not try and steal her for Fairy Tail either! She's ours, you got that?!" Sting teased, snickering to himself.

Rogue punched Sting in the shoulder, "You idiot…! Now's not the time for your jokes!"

Sting pulled Rogue into a headlock in retaliation, "Come on, man! You can't say I'm wrong! Remember when they nearly stole Yukino from us?! I don't want the same thing happening to Sabertooth's resident princess! So hands off, Erza!" He pointed at Erza with that statement, a grin on his face.

Erza raised her hands in surrender, unable to stop the laugh that slipped through, "Don't worry. I won't steal your princess. Though… You should probably let the poor guy go, Sting. Rogue's face is completely blue. I think you're suffocating him."

"Huh?" Sting looked down to see Rogue blue in the face, and he let go, "...Right, yeah. I knew that."

Rogue rubbed his raw neck, taking in a large breath as he could finally breathe again, "Yeah, sure you did…"

Minerva glanced over her hands, studying them, allowing for the reality of their appearances to settle in for her. It was the first time she was out of the clothes that Tartaros had put her in, the first time she was without any gloves over her hands. It was then Minerva could see the black scales that had replaced her skin, turning her arm serpentine, morphing her fingers into claws. The black scales began to fade near her elbow, where they turned into a few lines that trailed up into her neck and face. It was the first time she was without the knee-high boots as well, and through the slit of her dress, Minerva could see the markings that went up and down her legs. The demonification process certainly left its traces on her, and there was no denying the monster she had become.

In the midst of her reflection, Minerva heard her name being called, and with a slow blink she focused her gaze on Erza, "There's no need to yell, Titania. I'm right here."

Erza frowned in response, "I had been calling your name for perhaps a solid minute now. I felt as if yelling was the only way I was going to get you out of your thoughts."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Minerva drew in a breath from surprise, "...My mistake. Well, there's no use in dallying around any longer. Introduce me to this renowned healer friend of yours, Titania. You'll have to understand my eagerness to be freed from this depressing state."

Erza nodded and walked towards the reclusive tree Porlyusica called home, knocking on the door until the woman she was looking for appeared on the other side.

"Oh. It's you." Porlyusica stated with obvious disdain in her voice.

Unable to help herself, Minerva wound up smiling at that, and she peered over at Erza to gauge her response, "How loosely was the term 'friend' used before, Titania?"

"Unfortunately, quite…" Erza said to herself, but quickly she got a second wind and she stood up straighter, "I do hate to bother you, Porlyusica, but I would like to ask for your help."

"With what? You look as healthy as can be." Porlyusica said dryly, "I don't like to waste my time."

"I'm well aware. I wasn't requesting your services for my sake, but rather for my friend here." Erza stepped aside and motioned towards Minerva to introduce her.

"Another loose usage of the word 'friend.'" Minerva commented, still smiling to herself.

"Humans… Always testing my limits…" Porlyusica shook her head with a growl.

"Then this might be your lucky day." Minerva placed a hand on her hip, "I'm no human, after all. Perhaps then you will be so inclined as to help me."

Porlyusica raised an unamused eyebrow, "You look human to me, missy. If you're not human, then what are you?"

Minerva narrowed her one eye, "Take a wild guess. Starts with an 'm'...?"

"A monster?" Porlyusica said dryly.

Grinning, Minerva nodded, "Exactly."

"Minerva, stop this." Erza shook her head disapprovingly, "You're not a monster!"

"Whatever narrow loophole you've created doesn't matter." Porlyusica explained, "I won't treat you. Do not think for a second I do not know who you are, Minerva Orland. I know of the terrors you've wrought upon Fairy Tail, and especially for Lucy's sake, I will not extend my services to an enemy."

"Porlyusica, please! Hear me out!" Erza pleaded, though she was soon cut off.

"Oh, please…" Minerva sighed, placing her hand to her forehead, "Why does everyone always call me cruel for what happened to Lucy? I allowed her to get second place! I feel as if that was extremely generous on my end!"

"Some nerve!" Porlyusica sneered.

"I'll show you nerves!" Minerva stepped forward, a clenched fist reeled back, but Erza's arms around her waist stopped her from getting very far.

"Minerva!" Erza growled, struggling to hold Minerva back. She didn't have to put up a fight for long, because soon Minerva was placed under a sleeping spell and fell slack in her arms. Erza only had to move to catch Minerva to keep her from falling. Looking back at Porlyusica, Erza blinked a few times in surprise at how Porlyusica tranquilized Minerva so easily.

"Now if you're finished wasting my time-"

"Please… Allow me to explain!" Erza said, desperate, "I need help. Gravely."

Porlyusica let out a sigh and crossed her arms, eyes falling shut. She did not protest, however, which gave Erza a window to continue.

"She isn't supposed to be like this… She didn't deserve what happened to her. Her father had her kidnapped and put under demonification. What I and her friends want is for her to be returned back to normal." Erza swallowed harshly, "Please, Porlyusica… She's committed to changing, believe it or not. Putting this experience and this trauma behind her is a step in that process."

Silence followed for a moment after that, with Porlyusica seemingly thinking things over. Erza looked at the unconscious Minerva in her arms, eyes wandering over the scales and markings marring her skin. She felt sympathy and concern rising in her chest for Minerva, with the effect that demonification had on both her mind and body. Looking back over to Porlyusica, Erza was able to catch Porlyusica letting out a heavy sigh and stepping aside to make room.

"Alright, I'll look her over. But I make no promises. I have never treated anything like this before." Porlyusica caved, shaking her head.

Erza allowed herself to smile as a result, "Thank you." Moving her arm behind Minerva's legs, Erza sweeped her up into her arm, "Er… Do not tell her about this. I have a legitimate fear that she would actually kill me if she were to find out that I was holding her." And bridal style no less.

With a roll of her eyes, Porlyusica eventually complied, "Yes, yes, whatever. Just set her on the bed and I will examine her."

Nodding her head, Erza brought Minerva inside and laid her down on the medical bed. Erza moved without thinking to brush some stray hairs out of Minerva's face, and again her gaze was drawn to the mark covering Minerva's one eye. With a frown, Erza pulled away and turned to Porlyusica, "Thank you again, truly. Please… Do what you can. Many people are hoping for her recovery."

For once, Porlyusica didn't have anything smart to say. She nodded in response to that, and went to gather some supplies. Left to herself, Erza swallowed and let out a sigh, still looking at the unconscious Minerva.

She truly hoped that Minerva could get better.

[thisgoldenafternoon]

“Where light is blind and shadows dissolve” Chapter 2

TW: mild horror, language, implied; figurative mentioning of abuse.

Summary:

A quiet visitor. A moment of comfort. All received and lost within a single heartbeat. And the air gets cold and colder, after the short wave of warmth had burned itself out. Still in the dark, Sting shivers.

                                A spark that blooms in blackness

The silence is gnawing at his ear drums with greedy fangs. In his secluded bubble of eternal midnight, where all sound is muted and the darkness presses solidly against his eyeballs, Sting almost feels afloat. The concept of time is slowly lost to him, for his pulse has become far too unsteady to help him measure the minutes and hours of his confinement. His limbs feel numb with cold and exhaustion, even lack the energy to keep on trembling, allowing the chill to seep into his body. His consciousness has retreated far into his mind, searching for some place warm and bright, where he could see the open sky and drink in the sunlight. A place where his hand would find another one whenever reaching out, and the sensation of a familiar heartbeat close to him, that never failed to calm his nerves. But whenever his imagination nearly manages to conjure the feeling of safety, serenity, and all those things belonging to carefree days spent in a brighter past; he'd be pulled back by a shiver coursing through his body, or a drip-dropping splash of water falling from the ceiling. Back to the crushing embrace of darkness and the foul stench of dead flesh ingrained into his nose. The memory might have brought tears to his eyes all over again, but he seems to have spent them all, so only a dry burning remains as he stares blankly into the vast space. There is nothing here to keep his thoughts occupied, so they're ceaselessly circling around the sickening sensation of cold, mindless creatures wandering lecherously over his skin. He's trapped in a downward spiral that just won't stop draining his sanity, leaving him to the nauseating aftermath of an adrenaline-shock with his nerves buzzing and pulse racing. So, even though his body demands rest, exhaustion turning every muscle into lead, sleep has never been farther away than at this very moment. The only thing he can do is curl into a tight little ball and wait. To be released from this nightmare or pass out from hypothermia and distress. Which ever comes first; he doesn't really care any more.

All of a sudden his head snaps up. An icy draft, that hadn't been there before, had just wafted through his hair, causing shivers to run down his spine. Something seems to be stirring in the shadows, Sting can almost feel them swirling and churning, as they give way to a solid form. Something's in here with him and the mere realization has the boy frozen in fear. 'No, not again... Please, dear god, don't... just don't do this to me again...' He pleads to any deity that might be listening, but not a single word passes his lips, as panic fastens its hold on his body. Instead Sting goes perfectly still; limbs petrified and breathing strained, he only stares into the darkness with blind eyes and listens. The sound of footsteps identifies the intruder as a human being, but that does nothing to ease Sting's urge to lash out at the thing and shout his lungs out, as it draws closer until it's right next to him. He already feels a scream building in his throat, a hot, scraping sensation, like swallowing a shard of glass, when a hand suddenly flies out to cover his mouth, the fingers as small and soft as his, and the grip surprisingly gentle. He could bite them if he tried, maybe even draw blood... The thought sends a jolt of fear driven excitement through his bones. But before panic could get the better of him, a pair of lips grazes his temple, tiny puffs of air tickling his ear, as a familiar voice breathes a soft, low whisper against his brow. “Shh, it's just me. It's okay, it's okay.” Sting almost sobs, as realization dawns upon him, dispelling the frost from his limbs and leaving him boneless and heavy. “I'm gonna take my hand away now, but you gotta promise, not to scream, you hear me?” Sting gives an eager nod, a never known relief flooding his body as the calming presence of his friend washes over his quivering form, efficiently erasing the tremors. “Rogue!” He croaks, trying very hard to keep his voice from cracking. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?” He senses movement, measured and cautiously and in the next second Rogue drops down right beside him, hands feeling around, until they find Sting's. The violent flinch that follows the rather familiar touch more than startles him, but as he is about to withdraw, Sting quickly catches his retreating wrist and laces their fingers together on his own accord. His skin is icy, clam and just won't stop twitching, so Rogue inches a little closer and eases his arm around the hunched shoulders, securely wrapping Sting up in his cape. “C'mer, you're freezing, man!” he coaxes and soon enough Sting all but crumbles into the patiently waiting arms, head shyly coming to rest in the crook of Rogue's neck. The Shadow Dragon Slayer rests his cheek lightly against the blond crown and wills the life back into stiff, numb limbs by rubbing his hands fiercely over the other boy's arms. “You weren't in our room when I got back from training.” He states simply after some moments of evaluating the whole situation. Sting hums a little sound of approval, but otherwise stays quiet, what cues Rogue to continue. “I thought you hadn't returned from the mission yet, but then I saw Jiemma practically pounding Dobengal into the dirt- He was so fucking angry, I... “ He trails off, shaking his head in silence, but after a soft little nudge from Sting's elbow, keeps on talking. His voice suddenly sounds much softer, as compassion worms it's way into his speech. “I had no idea, where to look for you! And I thought: What if he'd expelled you from the guild? What if he hurt you so bad, that...” Once again Rogue can't finish the sentence, but the way his fingers suddenly dig into Sting's shoulder, protectively and oh-so-warm, is more than enough to fill in the blank. “I tried following your scent, but it was everywhere and nowhere at the same time and I ended up running down the same hallways time and again, before I overheard Minerva asking about your mission. And Jiemma told her, that he'd thrown you into the pit... and....” Rogue takes a staggering breath and fastens his hold on Sting a little more, before adding: “His voice gave me the creeps... It was... just so... I don't even know how to describe it... It was dripping with scorn and the way he laughed, kinda told me, that he had something horrible in store for ya... I came here as fast as I could, but... but...” Another deep breath as he prepares for the inevitable, obvious question. “I'm too late, ain't I? Something's already happened, right?” There is such an amount of concern laced into Rogue's voice, that it's almost impossible to bear, and Sting cannot bring himself to burden him even further by revealing what took place behind these walls. Not when the blackness is only being warded off by the thin layer of fabric that is Rogue's mantle. The memory is yet too fresh, the wounds it ripped still bleeding and he feels sullied, tainted, so he couldn't stand the idea, of his friend knowing just how pathetic his defences had been, how his hands had trembled with fear. How, in the end he just let those horrible things happen, without much of a fight.

That's why he forces himself to shake his head and even contorts his face in something akin to an achingly broken smile, while he hopes desperately, that his voice wouldn't betray his true emotions right now. “Nah, I've just been locked up in here for quite a while now and... you know, I've never liked the darkness very much.” If his stomach hadn't started convulsing with nausea, Sting might have even been proud of how normal and steady his voice came out, but like this, it takes all the willpower he's got, not to falter and throw up. “Dude, that's like - the biggest understatement I've ever heard of, you know? You “Don't like the darkness very much?” “ Rogue's tone is light, maybe even a bit mocking, but there's affection and sympathy woven tightly into his words, as he adds: “You don't have to pretend, that you're not scared for me. We've been friends since forever and I had to comfort you so many times... I just know this is freaking you out. I can feel that you're shaking, you know?” “Sh-shut-t up. 'm ju-just c-cold.” As if to prove a point, Sting's teeth all of a sudden start clattering violently with every word, so Rogue wraps his coat a little tighter around the quivering body next to him and curses under his breath. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” He nudges the White Dragon Slayer gently, but stalls in his tracks, as the action elicits an outcry of pain. “He's beaten you up again, didn't he?” Rogue's voice suddenly comes as a vicious growl, and even though Sting can't see it, he knows that those warm red eyes are now ablaze with fury. “One day Imma kill this bastard, I swear!” It's Sting's time now, to cover the other's mouth hastily. “Shh, are you insane? He might hear you! Don't you think he'd be able to listen to what's going on in here, somehow? What if...” As if to prove Sting right, Jiemma's voice is suddenly thundering throughout the whole guild hall, filling the air with a malign, dreadful static. “ ROGUE!!!!!” “Oh no!”, Sting whispers, throat tight with fear. The Shadow Dragon Slayer only sets his jaw in determination, but otherwise doesn't even flinch. “ROGUE!!” “Go!” Sting urges his friend, even though every fibre of his being wants him to stay, wants to keep his warmth, his comforting presence selfishly by his side. “No way! I'm not leaving you behind in here. I don't care...” “CHENEY!!!! GET YOUR SORRY ASS HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!! THERE'S WORK FOR YOU!!! CHENEY!!!!” “Please!!” Sting is pleading with him now, despair spreading through his guts. “I'll be fine, I promise. I... I can do this. But...” His voice is dangerously close to breaking and he has to force it back into obedience, the lie weighing heavy on his mind, before he continues. “But... please don't make me worry about you, too. This is what I couldn't do right now. I might endure the darkness, but only if I know, that when this is over, you'll be waiting for me back in our room. And then we'll start reading the book I got us in town, today. Just...” Now his breath hitches and almost comes as a sob, but Rogue seems to understand him nevertheless, for he actually draws back, prepared to get to his feet.

As soon as his arms fall away from Sting's shoulders, his body already misses the soothing feeling of heat, the distant rhythm of Rogue's pulse and his warm breath on his hair. “ROGUE!! GET THE FUCK HERE! RIGHT NOW OR YOU'RE GONNA REGRET HAVING EVEN BEEN BORN!!!” He is bracing himself for the inevitable harsh, cold silence that'll be swallowing him up once again any second now; but to his surprise, the other one leans back in, hands capturing Sting's once more, as he whispers: “All right. I'll go. But don't you worry, I'll be back for you, as soon as possible. Wait for me, you hear me?” He rests his forehead ardently against Sting's before continuing “Be brave! Just for a little longer! ” And Sting, completely dumbfounded by the tender gesture, just squeezes those warm hands and breathes: “I will. Please be safe!” He feels the nod against his brow and then a soft swirl of shadows tousles his hair and their hands slide apart. Rogue is gone, leaving behind nothing but his earthen scent and rapidly cooling darkness. Sting's facade caves and crumbles.

[starswallowingsea]

HEY GUESS THE FUCK WHAT? I'm joking you don't have a choice but anyways so,,,, after Sting murders Jiemma (I think that's how you spell the bastards name but I also don't want to check because do I have any fucks to give about a pe*le & abuser? Nope.) & Natsu cremates his corpse I was fuckin wondering if we go by canon & when he appears does Gray just anhilate him in a fit of rage for his trans sabertooth friends or what? Also if a shitty flute sound doesn't play when he dies again then what's the point?

Omg yes....... Gray one-shots Demon Jiemma and Sting and Rogue can keep helpin Natsu fight Mard Geer

[newgeht]

You sent me one it’s only fair. How about... Rogue Cheney??

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff  He’s fairly intelligent and I feel like he has some philosophical things to say… Like all the time but everyone shuts the poor man down T^T

best quality: Rogue is loyal to the max. He’s not going to betray anyone he sees as a true comrade/friend. He’s also super caring and sympathetic to those he loves ;;

worst quality: He’s always wearing a mask of sorts. Very apathetic around those he doesn’t know. 

ship them with: Oh boy, do I have lots… *coughs* Sting, Minerva, Yukino, Jellal (don’t question crack xd)… Lucy *shifty eyes* 

brotp them with: All of Sabertooth, plus I can see him getting along quite nicely with Natsu and Gray. And Frosch ofc… He loves his exceed so much!!

needs to stay away from: Uhm… JIEMMA. That guy was such a fucking bastard… He needs to stay away from everyone. 

misc. thoughts: He’s too good for everyone ;; 

[poisonouslightslayer]

🌹⚠️ Cobra and Sting

🌹 Would they ever lie?

 ⚠️ Would they seek revenge against someone who’s harmed them or the people they care about? 

“What person ever wouldn’t? I mean come on. Let’s be real here. As for your other question nonnie ya better believe I’d go to extremes if anyone ever hurt anyone I care about. Ya saw what happened to that bastard Jiemma didn’t ya?”

 “Stupid question gray face to both. Did you forget I was part of the Oracion Seis? Deceiving others was part of my job. Anyone who tried anything stupid would be met with a slow agonizing path to death if they couldn’t recover from my poison.”