#long despair looming overhead

[cubot]

Coworker comes into the staffroom on my 15 and then turns her phone on speaker, stands by the door, closes the door, leans on the door, talks loudly annoyed to the robot receptionist on the phone.

I must have been blistering my vehemence because she left after a minute with a friendly laugh ("what can you do about these robots"), but I was about to rip my face off in front of her.

[acapelladitty]

Jonathan Crane/Reader - Captive (Kinktober #9)

Summary: Held captive by Jonathan Crane, you find yourself victim to his cruelties as the reality of just how monstrous the Master of Fear can be truly sets in. (TW for noncon & various implied abuses and punishments)

Part 2: available here

Awaking with a start, the sudden brightness of the overhead bulb which dragged you from a restless sleep burns your eyes and you snap them closed once more as you find yourself momentarily blinded.

The filthy mattress providing very little comfort from the even filthier floor below, your body instantly screams its discomfort as you unfurl from your curled position. No matter how you recalled falling asleep, you awoke in the same state; with your body cramped and aching as it wound itself into the tightest ball imaginable. To protect yourself as much as you could.

Still disoriented by sleep and exhaustion, bleary eyes dart around the bare room as reality sets in- the horrid truth of your captivity a fresh trauma every time you awaken in the prison-like space.

A screech of metal and your body flinches away from the mattress, scrambling towards the furthest away wall as a familiar, tall figure creeps through the sliver of opened door. Your heart leaps into your mouth as the temperature of the room drops even further, a stiff breeze quickly sneaking in as the door is left ajar, its guardian showing no fear of a potential escape.

"Evening, pet." A deep voice greets and the cadence of it sends a deep shudder rolling through your spine as your back pushes even harder against the wall, your eyes now rooted to the floor to avoid any misstep.

Your trembling fingers clutch at the ragged blanket which he had so graciously provided after you begged for something, anything, to stave off the bone-chilling cold which settled in during the long nights. The fabric was frayed at the edges and rotted with holes which looked to be the result of moths, a stale scent clinging to the fibres. It was disgusting but you had carefully hidden the retch which threatened your throat as he presented it and, further still, hidden the disgust as you delivered his 'reward' for such a kind treat.

"No hello?" His voice drops any pretence, and your frightened eyes instantly snap to his own, the rounded wire-rimmed glasses doing nothing to hide the frigid emerald gaze below. "How unfortunate. I thought we had finished up our work on basic manners."

"Hello, D-Dr. Crane." You stutter out, panic tearing through your thoughts at your own stupidity for forgetting his rules. His lessons were cruel and never ended before both your body and mind were shattered, broken into a pitiful submission until he next decided you had slipped up. "I-I'm sorry, I've just woken up."

"Lazy." He sneers, genuine contempt playing in his features as he looms over you. "I've been awake for fourteen hours and the night is still young. Such laziness deserves correcting as I will not stand for a substandard little pet. Not when I have so kindly visited to check in on them."

His Scarecrow costume is tight around his body and your eyes drop to the telltale bulge in his brown slacks and the sight of it sparks fresh despair in your chest as you realise exactly what he is here for.

"No. No, please. Not again." You whine through jittering teeth, your knees drawing up flush against your chest as your fingers curl harder into the ratty blanket. "Please. No."

He moves quicker than you anticipated, and a shrill cry breaks free of your lips as his fingers latch around your shivering frame and push you down to the mattress. Whatever resistance you make is weak and pathetic, a lack of food and movement making your body feel lethargic and frail, even against his mild strength.

Stars flash across your darkening vision as his thin hands slams your head off the mattress, a sharp pain in your lower lip altering you to the fresh split in the skin there as blood pools within your mouth.

Apologies spill from your lips, disturbing the fresh cut further, and the words fall free thoughtlessly as your body tenses before going slack against any further brutality.

Just let him do what he wants.

He will anyway.

The blanket now fallen away, you lay there naked and stunned as the chill from the opened door washes over your bruised skin; the mottled colours of older injuries standing out starkly. His hand releases your head, and you cry silently as you remain as still as possible until a sharp kick to the outer thigh makes you yelp in surprise.

"Ready yourself."

Whimpering with shame as you draw your knees up and bend your head down, you present your naked ass, allowing him to move out of sight behind you as you hear the familiar sound of shuffling fabric and the rustle of a zip.

A sharp nail scores a harsh line across your ass and you can feel the well of blood immediately as he breaks the skin there. It's a sharp pain but against the other aches of your abused frame, it means very little aside from sparking a fresh whimper from your lips.

Openly sobbing as his finger presses against your asshole, you spread your knees further to allow him easier access - knowing that the punishment will be a lot harsher if you don't.

"Good pet." His finger pulls away and you flinch as a warm glob of spit lands just above your hole, the insufficient lube rolling across your ass as his finger returns to spread it carelessly. "Now, keep being good or I'll belt this ass raw and bloodied before enjoying my reward."

His cockhead bumps messily against your hole and despite the shuddering of your upper chest and face as they press against the cold stone flooring, you try to relax. Anything to make it easier and lessen even a little of the pain; even the lube was only for his own convenience, to ensure that he didn’t damage his own cock as he used you freely.

He enters your ass with a thrust which takes your breath away as you burn and stretch around him, forced to take half his length without mercy.

"Always so tight around me," he purrs, "pulling me in further like a whore." At the final word he jerks his hips forward once again and a broken sob flutters across the floor as his hips lay flush against your ass, the sharp sting of his entry a wretched discomfort as you feel hollowed out.

"Please, take it out." You beg, unable to stop. "It hurts. Y-you're killing me."

A callous laugh cuts across your words as his thin hand pulls your head free of the mattress and your scalp burns at the vicious tug as he tilts your head as far back at it would allow.

"Killing you? Don't be dramatic, pet. Why would I kill my favourite little project? You survived my toxin; you can survive a little fuck. If not, then maybe we should mix the two? My toxin is begging for another round inside that soft little frame."

Genuine fear stiffens your frame, your body thrashing and tightening your ass around him while he grunts at the sudden pressure, as you recall his toxin. You had lasted over an hour before passing out. A full hour of creeping shadows and horrific beasts tearing at your skin as you screamed and wailed and pissed yourself in terror. Awaking after that had been just as wretched as the ache of your abused body told you of just how much he had enjoyed your terror as you were lost in hallucination.

Even through the mania, you had heard his laugh. That high, cold laughter which mocked your suffering as he basked in the fruits of his labour. You remember him scolding you for the mess as he promised a cruel bath, little more than chilled water hosing you down as you retched and squealed under the hard pressure.

Snapping back to the present as his hand collides against your ass, sparking a dull ache in the abused skin, he continues his very real threat.

"What do you think would sink deeper; the needle or my cock?"

Mewling out something incomprehensible as you cough out some of the blood which has accumulated in your mouth, you clench your ass around him - ignoring the way it sparks a dull, throbbing pain in your guts - as you miserably await him finishing.

His pace is frantic and cruel, every thrust designed to inflict as much discomfort as possible as you writhe and bawl beneath him. Every breath is erratic, his panting broken up by feral growls and grunts as he nears his peak.

With a merciful swiftness, his sharp nails dig into the vulnerable skin of your hips as he drives himself as deep as possible as he comes. Heat pools within your mauled ass as he refuses to pull free, coating you with his release as he issues a strangled snarl, every inch the beast he truly was.

You press your head against the mattress roughly, pushing your tears into the stained fabric as he finally frees himself; his cock pulling from your ass with an obscene noise as you feel his cum trickle free of your abused hole.

Nothing else is said, his silence as oppressive as the cold air which now assaults your sweat- slicked skin, and you lie there pathetically sobbing into the mattress as you await his next torment.

It's not until a full minute later, several moments after the screech of the metal door alerts you to his exit that you even dare to move.

Slipping your fingers back to your ass, you brush against the tender flesh there as you wipe away his release - the very feel of it making your throat tight with an unrealised retch.

Wiping your stained fingers on the furthest edge of the thin mattress, you try to ignore the slight pinkish tinge to the liquid as you once again curl into a defensive position; a twisted relief that he had not followed through with his threat of toxin making you deliriously thankful even as fat tears roll across your filth-covered cheeks.

[trans-shuichisaihara]

it's been a long time since i added any new pieces to my tragedy au, but i've been thinking about Them again so here's a fic

---------

The van shook and groaned as they tore their way through the ruins of what used to be Kobe. Smoke lingered in the air, polluted evidence that the attack on this area had been recent.

Mere hours had passed since they were forced to abandon their home in the face of Ultimate Despair supporters closing in on the area surrounding Kyoto. Kokichi clenched the steering wheel tightly, sharply turning to avoid a fallen piece of rubble. This was such a mess. He almost wished they’d—no. He pushed that thought out of his mind. Things were fine. They had the necessities and that was all they needed. He repeated that over and over, as if it would block out Kaede’s crying in the back seat.

Miu wasn’t much better. “I just hated it, alright?!” She outright denied every potential new base, taking one look at the setup and deeming it either irreparable or just not good enough.

“If you keep hating everything, we’re going to have to sleep in the car tonight,” he finally rebutted, getting frustrated at her refusal to drop her standards for one whole night.

“I’d rather sleep in the car than some drafty, unsafe pile of crap!”

They continued arguing for a while, before Kaede finally spoke up. “Would you please stop yelling.” Her broken yet firm tone efficiently silenced the two of them—it was a command, not a request.

A long silence hung over them like a guillotine, the reality of their situation looming overhead as that blade might—threateningly. This wasn’t the time for petty squabbling, but there was nothing else they could do either to relieve the fear in their hearts.

“We can’t sleep in the van,” Kokichi finally muttered, squeezing the steering wheel. “And we can’t keep searching forever. We’re going to run out of gas soon.”

Miu leaned against the passenger’s window, hugging her arms to her chest. She let out a huff, her breath clouding the glass before dissipating. Quietly, she responded, “Fine. Just pick one, and I’ll get us some new gas, and we’ll find a better place tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a concession, but it was certainly a compromise. Kokichi knew that Miu was struggling with everything just as much as Kaede was—trying to process that their home was gone, that their parents were dead... Certainly, he held no hard feelings towards her—she was his bestest friend in this whole wide shitty world, after all.

But because he was her best friend, he knew that he had to keep her safe. So, if that meant forcing her to stay put in a shitty ruined building when anything intact would be an easy target of any rioters or followers of Despair, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Ideally, he’d find some place crummy, but not too crummy. Unappealing on the outside, but intact on the inside. Miu wasn’t exactly wrong in denying some of the places they’d looked at earlier, but... Beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

He drove them into a gloomy neighborhood, slowing the car to a crawl. They observed each ruined house in turn, trying their best to ignore the splatters of dried blood on the cracked streets and driveways.

After a few minutes of “window shopping”, Miu sighed loudly. “These all suck.”

In the rearview mirror, Kokichi saw Kaede grimace. “I don’t disagree. There’s a lot of bomb damage in this area...”

“That works out in our favor,” Kokichi pointed out. “If they’ve hit this area, there probably won’t be too many people around, and they probably won’t target this area in the near future either.”

Miu harrumphed. “Stop being right about things. Just find one that isn’t fucked up already.”

Silently, he continued on, and after a few more minutes he found their first candidate in this area. A small two-storied house with an intact driveway, which they pulled up onto before getting out.

“The windows are shattered,” Miu complained as Kaede was grabbing their self defense weapons—nothing special, just a crowbar for Miu, a kitchen knife for Kaede, and a baseball bat for Kokichi.

“Just give it a chance, Miu,” Kaede begged, exhaustion pulling her shoulders downward. Miu frowned, but she complied and said nothing more as they made their way inside through the open front door.

It was dark inside, and though he could assume it was pointless, he still tried to flick the light switch to turn the lights on. Nothing, of course—the power grid in this area was probably long gone, annihilated in the destruction of Kobe. Reluctantly, he flicked on his flashlight, and Kaede did the same with hers.

“I’ll check the security of the first floor,” he decided, his voice firm as he made the call and continued delegating tasks, “Akamatsu-chan, check and see if the upstairs is intact. Iruma-chan, see if the garage has space and opens—if we can get the van hidden away, and the building is stable, this’ll have to do.”

Kaede nodded, while Miu gave him a shrug, again commenting, “The windows are busted; that’s a major weak point.”

Kokichi couldn’t disagree there. “Yes, but if we can lock and barricade the doors, some broken windows aren’t going to be that big of a deal. It might even tell others that this place is useless—no one would camp out in a house with broken windows, yeah?”

Again, Miu shrugged, but she seemed to accept his response as she wandered off towards the logical location of the garage, opening a door before flicking on her flashlight. It seemed to be it, as she walked through the door and started looking around.

“I’m going upstairs; be careful around the broken glass, okay?” Kaede gave him a smile before going off on her assignment, the stairs creaking as she walked up them. Kokichi watched her go, before silently beginning to patrol the first floor.

The windows in the front were shattered, but the side and back ones were still intact. The doors themselves were untouched, aside from the wear-and-tear one would expect on a home that had been lived in for many years. There weren’t any unpleasant smells, aside from spoiled food in an unpowered fridge. It looked a bit battered from the outside, but overall it was in relatively good shape.

Whoever lived here must’ve met their unfortunate end elsewhere, or fled. Hopefully it was the latter.

Miu returned from her search first, hands on her hips as she announced, “I think we can fit the car in; we’ll have to move a few things, but I was able to get the door open manually.”

He gave her a smile and decided to tease her. “I’m so glad that wasn’t too much for your itty bitty piggy brain to figure out!”

Somehow his response seemed to surprise her, and it took a moment before she pushed him by his shoulder in retaliation. “You lil shit, you think now’s the time to be flirting with me?” She stuck her tongue out at him, and his smile turned into a mischievous grin.

“Me, flirt with you? Wow, someone’s getting haughty!” He stuck his tongue out at her cheekily. “I thought the smell in here was coming from you, and I’m not into pigs that roll around in the mud!”

They poked and prodded at each other while they waited for Kaede, but after a few minutes, their bantering simmered and slowed to a stop. They stood in tense silence, Miu’s brows furrowed as she looked at the stairs. Kokichi looked as well, both of their minds in sync.

“She’s taking a while.”

“Yeah.”

Miu shifted in place. “You didn’t hear anything weird?”

He shook his head. “It’s been quiet.”

“... Maybe she’s just being really careful.”

“Maybe.”

The way the staircase loomed in front of them was starting to become unbearable. Finally, Kokichi scoffed and, without announcing it, he started towards the stairs.

“H-Hey, wait up!” Miu was at his heels as he ascended the stairs, his footsteps light enough that they made no sound—there was only the delayed creak of Miu’s steps behind him.

There was a murmur of sound on the second floor—voices—and Kokichi’s heart grew fearful and panicked. Quickly, he swerved his head around to pinpoint the location and darted towards a door at the end of the hall.

“What—” Miu started to ask, but Kokichi gave her a stern look and a finger to his lips as he pressed his ear to the door.

“What was that?” an unfamiliar voice asked—a man.

“Hm? Oh, that sounded like Miu; she’s my sister,” Kaede answered. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m keeping them waiting. C’mon, I’ll—”

Kokichi shoved open the door. The stranger and Kaede both jumped, and Kokichi took advantage of their surprise to run forward and disable the stranger by kicking him straight in the knee.

He fell like a sack of potatoes to his side, shouting out in pain and alarm. “What the fuck?!”

“Akamatsu-chan, hurry downstairs; I’ll make sure this guy doesn’t get the chance to do anything,” he growled, distrust and fear mixing crudely in his heart. His grip on his baseball bat was tight as he shoved the tip of it into the stranger’s shoulder.

Kaede stared at him with wide eyes. “Huh? Ouma-kun, what—ah, no, you’ve got the wrong idea!” She did the opposite as he commanded, instead hurrying to his side and grabbing his wrist. “He’s friendly! He’s in high school, just like us!”

Kokichi took another look at him—true enough, he looked about their age, with dark messy hair and an ugly goatee on his chin. He held his kicked knee and looked up at him with confusion-filled eyes.

He scoffed, looking back to Kaede. “Age and friendliness mean nothing,” he rebutted, twisting his wrist from her grasp. “Don’t forget there were teens in that riot in Kyoto, too.”

Kaede winced and stepped back. “Ouma-kun, I know that.”

“You know this guy?” the stranger asked, shoving at the baseball bat to divert it away from him. Kokichi scowled and aimed it back at him.

“Ah, yes, this is my friend Ouma Kokichi-kun—” Kaede introduced.

“Akamatsu-chan,” he hissed at her, “Don’t be so casual with giving out our names to people!”

“Ouma, huh?” the stranger repeated without bothering to use any honorifics. He inched back enough that he could stand up again, massaging his knee. “C’mon, I swear I’m not gonna hurt you guys; I was just tryin’ to bunker down for a while, and then Akamatsu here walked in.”

“Well, this is our place!” Kokichi declared, looking back to Miu. “Isn’t that right, Iruma-chan?”

“Huh?!” She blinked at him, before scowling. “Well, yeah, of course! I don’t want to go looking for another place when this one is actually decent!”

“Ouma-kun, he was here first,” Kaede chided. “But even so, he said it was okay if we bunkered down here for the night with him.” She turned to the stranger. “Right, Momota-kun?”

“Momota” hesitated. “Uh, well, yeah. I did say that...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But this Ouma guy here doesn’t seem to want to play nice...”

“Of course not! Playing nice with strangers is a sure way to get stabbed to death while we sleep!” he retorted. “No one would be stupid enough to share a living space with a total stranger in this nightmare!”

Both Momota and Kaede were silent. Miu crossed her arms, frowning.

Receiving no response, Kokichi pushed forward. “It’s three against one, and so you gotta leave,” he declared.

Momota’s jaw fell. “Don’t be stupid—and selfish, for that matter! I was here first!”

“Ouma-kun, I’m certain about him being safe,” Kaede insisted, putting herself between the two again. “If something happens, it’ll be my fault, okay?”

He glared up at her. “And if he hurts you or Iruma-chan? What then?”

“I’m not going to—!” “He’s not going to—!” Momota and Kaede said at the same time, before looking at each other. He gave her a nervous grin while she quietly laughed.

“Oh no, no you don’t!” Kokichi shoved his way past Kaede, stomping up to Momota. “Listen here, mister! You better not touch Akamatsu-chan, or Iruma-chan and me are gonna let you have it! I know she’s a total catch and all but she’s got super high standards and you certainly aren’t enough of a catch to be worth reeling in!”

Momota’s eyes widened and he gasped like a fish, stammering out, “No, it’s not like that! I’m not gonna do something like that, I just was being nice ‘cause she was being nice—”

“Aha! The victim blaming type!” Kokichi shoved his finger into Momota’s chest. “I’ve got you read like a book. Yup, I’m gonna keep an eye on you—and in the morning, you better leave, got it?”

“Ouma-kun...” Kaede sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Momota-kun. He’s normally not like this...”

Momota grimaced. “I sure would hope not, or else I’d wonder why you’re friends with a guy like him...”

Kokichi huffed. “I’ll have you know I’m a much better choice as a friend than you would ever be, thank you very much.” He walked behind Momota and roughly shoved him towards the door. “Anyway! This is our room now! Go find a different room—and then tomorrow, you better leave! I’m serious!” he demanded and reiterated, even as Momota protested.

Yes, it would all be better once they got this stranger out of their hair.

(Little did he know, this stranger named Momota Kaito wasn’t going anywhere.)

[darknesseddiem]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In the heart of the ancient woodland, a frantic escape unfolds as shadows whisper of ominous fates. Reality warps, concealing a lurking malevolence. Amidst chains of torment, an eternal curse is woven, binding a soul to endless longing. In the haunted depths, a mysterious tale unfolds, shrouded in darkness and secrets, known only to the silent forest.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Heavy content, dark themes, violence, blood, murded, witchcraft.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨��𝐧𝐭: 2,3k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: As I said, this series contains heavy themes and many triggers for some people, don't read if you are sensitive! Also, Thessalia it's NOT Reader, in the next chapter you will understand who she is. Spoiler: Something about reincarnation and past lives.

Thanks to @birdysaturne and @fan-girl-97 for beta read this for me, love u babes.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ali-r3n @birdysaturne @maedesculpaeusoubi

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

In the somber depths of the ancient woodland, Thessalia's heart hammered against her ribcage like a frantic prisoner, each beat echoing the rhythm of her desperate flight. The towering sentinels of the forest loomed overhead, their gnarled branches entwined like skeletal fingers grasping for her fleeting presence.

Through the labyrinth of tangled roots and shadowed thickets, she raced, her senses heightened to a feverish pitch. The air was thick with the cloying scent of decay, and the chorus of nocturnal creatures fell silent in ominous anticipation of her pursuer.

Yet, amidst the oppressive darkness, Thessalia sensed a more insidious presence lurking—a malevolent force woven into the very fabric of the forest itself. It whispered to her in sibilant tones, promising horrors beyond imagining should she dare to falter in her flight.

With every stride, the forest seemed to shift and contort, its once familiar paths twisting into nightmarish mazes designed to ensnare the unwary. And as Thessalia's strength waned and her resolve threatened to fracture, she realized that her struggle was not merely against the physical bounds of the woodland, but against an ancient evil that hungered for her soul.

For in the heart of the forest, where light dared not penetrate and shadows danced in malevolent glee, Thessalia knew that her fate hung precariously in the balance—a fragile thread stretched taut between survival and eternal damnation.

As the echo of her footfalls reverberated through the gnarled roots and whispering leaves, a palpable sense of dread hung heavy in the air, suffusing the very essence of the forest with an aura of foreboding. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the weight of impending doom pressing down upon Thessalia's trembling form like a suffocating shroud.

Then, with a sudden, bone-chilling certainty, the world around her twisted and contorted, reality itself warping under the weight of Calista's sinister power. Thessalia felt the ground beneath her feet vanish, her body lifted from the earth as if by unseen hands, and hurled unceremoniously against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak.

Pain blossomed like a crimson flower within her, every nerve ablaze with the searing agony of her impact. And there, amidst the dimly lit confines of the forest's embrace, Calista materialized—a specter of darkness and despair, her eyes ablaze with an insatiable hunger that pierced through the very fabric of Thessalia's being.

In that chilling moment, time seemed to stand still, the air heavy with the weight of impending doom. Thessalia felt as though her very essence lay bare before the vampire's piercing gaze, her soul laid bare to the whims of an ancient evil.

But within the depths of her terror, a flicker of defiance ignited—a primal spark of courage that dared to challenge the darkness. With a trembling voice, Thessalia spoke the words that echoed through the haunted groves, a whispered invocation of strength against the encroaching night.

For in that fleeting moment of defiance, amidst the shadows of the forest and the hungry gaze of the vampire, Thessalia realized that she was not alone in her struggle—that even in the darkest of nights, the light of hope still burned, a beacon against the encroaching tide of despair.

As Calista loomed over her, a predatory gleam dancing in her crimson eyes, Thessalia could not help but feel the icy tendrils of fear clutch at her heart. For in that gaze, she saw not merely her physical form laid bare, but the fragile threads of her soul stretched taut across the yawning chasm of eternity—vulnerable, exposed, and utterly at the mercy of Calista's dark power.

Amidst the somber shroud of night, the frigid voice of her sister resonated like a sinister echo in Thessalia's ears, piercing deep into her tormented soul. The weight of betrayal hung heavily over Thessalia as the broken promise reverberated in the void that stretched between them. Calista, cloaked in darkness like a nefarious shadow, loomed before her, a presence both terrifying and irresistible.

"Thess, you left me no choice." The frigid tone of her sister's voice pierced Thessalia's ears, resonating with a chilling finality. "I vowed to protect you, and yet you betrayed me. I placed my trust in you, Thessalia." Calista's words carried the weight of betrayal as she reached out, her hands gently cradling the young girl's face.

A heavy silence descended upon them, laden with the looming specter of a cruel fate. And then, the words spoken by the vampire echoed in the nocturnal ether, sealing Thessalia's fate with a somber and irrevocable sentence. Her lips curled into a merciless semblance as her cold hands touched the young girl's face, as if tracing the lines of her condemnation with the touch of an executioner.

In that moment, Thessalia knew that she stood on the precipice of oblivion, teetering between the light of salvation and the abyss of eternal darkness. And as Calista's grip tightened around her, sealing her fate with a whispered promise of torment, Thessalia's scream echoed through the haunted groves—a desperate plea for deliverance that vanished into the night, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the shadows.

In this veil of darkness, Calista pronounced the decree that would resonate throughout eternity, casting Thessalia into an abyss of pain and despair. The curse she uttered reverberated with the weight of eternity, condemning her to bear the burden of her own transgressions, a burden that could never be alleviated. Her fate was sealed on that dark night, enveloped in the relentless chains of eternal suffering.

"În această noapte întunecată, condamn spiritul Thessalia Delnegro pentru trădare. Este destinul tău să trăiești cu o povară pe care nu o poți renunța niciodată, vei provoca durere celor pe care îi iubești și nu poți face nimic în privința asta." (In this darkened night, I condemn the spirit of Thessalia Delnegro for betrayal. It is your destiny to live with a burden from which you can never rid yourself, to inflict pain upon those you love, and there is nothing you can do about it.)"

The fiery eyes of hatred and the pitiless face of Calista were the last sight Thessalia beheld before life fled her body, leaving her to wander the shadows of eternity, imprisoned in an endless cycle of pain and remorse.

On the other side of the forest, within the final tower of the castle veiled by the looming trees, Eddie languished in chains, his heart torn asunder as he was forced to bear witness to Calista's merciless slaughter of his beloved.

His anguished cries reverberated throughout the castle, echoing off the cold stone walls, yet offering no solace to his tormented soul. The pain etched upon his face seemed to eternally etch deeper into the fabric of his being, an unrelenting agony that threatened to consume him whole.

But as the tendrils of despair coiled tighter around his shattered heart, a simmering rage ignited within Eddie's breast. With each passing moment, the sorrow that once weighed him down like an anchor metamorphosed into a seething hatred, fueled by the presence of his captor.

In the depths of his gaze burned a firestorm of loathing, a tempest of fury that threatened to consume all in its path. His muscles strained against the unyielding bonds that shackled him, the sinews of his arms threatening to snap under the tremendous force he exerted in his futile attempts to break free. Yet, alas, it was all in vain, for Calista had ensorcelled the chains with dark magic before binding him, rendering them impervious to his desperate struggles.

And so, within the confines of his prison, Eddie found himself ensnared not only by physical restraints but also by the relentless grip of his own hatred—a festering wound that gnawed at his soul, driving him ever closer to the brink of madness. Each passing moment brought him closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of oblivion as he grappled with the agonizing realization that he was powerless to change his fate.

"Eddie... My dear Eddie," she intoned, her voice dripping with a sinister allure as she paced gracefully around the captive figure, a spectral waltz in the dimly lit chamber. "I bestowed upon you all, yet you chose her, a mere mortal, to hold your affections."

With an ancient tome clutched tightly in her grasp, the woman embarked upon a ritual steeped in arcane mysteries, her movements a macabre symphony that echoed through the chamber's oppressive silence.

Each incantation dripped from her lips like poison, weaving a tapestry of darkness that enveloped the room in a suffocating embrace. Shadows danced upon the walls, twisting and contorting in time with the rhythm of her words, as if driven by an unseen force.

And as the ritual reached its crescendo, the air crackled with palpable tension, a miasma of malevolence that hung heavy in the stillness. With a final flourish of her hand, the woman unleashed a surge of dark energy that coursed through the room, ensnaring Eddie in its sinister embrace.

In that moment, he felt the chains that bound him tighten with a vengeful fervor, their cold steel biting into his flesh with renewed cruelty. And as the shadows closed in around him, Eddie knew that he was truly alone—a prisoner of his own folly, condemned to languish in the depths of Calista's wrath for all eternity.

Calista's gaze fixated upon a tarnished cauldron, its metal surface reflecting the flickering flames with an otherworldly gleam. Into its depths, she cast esoteric objects, each imbued with a darkness that seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if yearning to be unleashed upon the world.

"We could have ascended together, you and I, were it not for the meddling of that wretched mortal," she hissed, her words a venomous lamentation as she traced the edge of a gleaming dagger. "You are a disappointment, Munson." And with a deft flick of her wrist, she drew a crimson line across his cheek, the metallic tang of blood staining the air with a macabre sweetness.

In the suffocating embrace of the chamber's shadows, a malevolent energy coiled and writhed, its tendrils reaching out to ensnare the very essence of Eddie's being. As Calista's incantations reverberated through the air, the boundaries between worlds grew thin, a portal to darkness yawning wide with each syllable uttered.

And in that moment of profound dread, Eddie could feel the ancient powers stirring, their hunger for chaos and destruction palpable in the oppressive atmosphere. For as the ritual unfolded, it became increasingly clear that the forces they had sought to invoke were far more malevolent than either of them could have ever imagined, and the price of their folly would be paid in blood and despair.

With each sinister chant, the veil between realms wavered, threatening to tear asunder and unleash untold horrors upon the world. And as Eddie watched in terror, he realized that he was but a pawn in Calista's dark game—a sacrificial lamb offered up to satisfy her insatiable thirst for power and vengeance.

"Îl blestem pe tine, Eddie Munson, cu nemurire," she intoned, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old malice. "Destinul tău va fi să rătăcești pentru totdeauna în căutarea singurei persoane pe care ai iubit-o vreodată, să rupi blestemul care te leagă. Totuși, ea nu te va recunoaște, nici nu va purta nicio afecțiune pentru existența ta. Te condamn, Eddie Munson, la o existență lipsită de iubire sau alinare."

("I curse thee, Eddie Munson, with immortality," she intoned, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old malice. "Your fate shall be to wander for eternity in pursuit of the sole person you have ever loved, to break the curse that binds you. Yet she shall not recognize you, nor shall she harbor any affection for your existence. I condemn you, Eddie Munson, to an existence devoid of love or solace.")

The air grew heavy with the weight of her words, each syllable a damning verdict that echoed through the chamber like a tolling bell. As the incantation reached its crescendo, a palpable sense of dread descended upon the room, shrouding Eddie in a suffocating embrace of despair.

In that moment, the boundaries between the mortal realm and the realm of the arcane wavered, the veil between life and death growing thin. And as the curse took hold, Eddie could feel the tendrils of eternity coiling around his very essence, binding him to a fate from which there could be no escape.

For in the darkness of Calista's chamber, a sinister pact had been forged—one that would haunt Eddie for all eternity, condemning him to an existence fraught with longing and despair. And as the last echoes of the curse faded into the abyss, he knew that his journey had only just begun, a solitary quest through the shadows of time in search of a love that could never be reclaimed.

The mist draped over the Maleviski forest like a shroud, casting an eerie veil over its ancient depths. In the ethereal twilight, where shadows danced with whispered secrets, only a gathering of somber ravens bore witness to the events unfolding beneath the moon's watchful gaze, their solemn caws echoing through the stillness of the night.

Beneath the cloak of mist, two lovers found themselves ensnared in the cruel machinations of fate, their hearts torn asunder by forces beyond their control. Separated by the malevolent presence that lurked within the forest's depths, they yearned for a reunion that seemed forever out of reach.

As the night wore on, the forest stirred with an unsettling energy, the very air thrumming with the palpable tension of impending doom. And amidst the swirling mists and haunting cries of the ravens, the tragic tale of these star-crossed lovers unfolded, shrouded in darkness and secrecy, with only the enigmatic forest as witness to their sorrow.

[borrowedtimeandspace]

Picking Up the Pieces 2/3

1 | 2 [here] | 3

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU)

~~~

Despite her determination to watch over Donna, Zepheera found it rather disquieting once she was alone. The silence was deafening, only barely broken by the human’s soft, sleepy breathing.

The sound brought back many memories in Zepheera. She and Donna had shared a room for a long time, before the borrower had recovered enough to find her own space in the TARDIS. She and Donna would talk for hours about anything on their minds, until one of them dropped off to sleep and the other followed. Given Zepheera's initial sleep issues, that first person asleep was most often Donna, so the sounds of her sleep were terribly familiar.

She was always full of life, from the moment Zepheera met her. It frightened the borrower at the start, but now its absence left her feeling so empty inside.

Before she could think better of it, Zepheera's feet were on the move. She marched right up to the edge of the nightstand and took the short leap to land on the purple pillowcase. She held her breath for a moment, on the lookout for any signs of movement in Donna.

Not a twitch.

This was an objectively bad move from a borrower’s standpoint. No cover, unsteady ground, and proximity to a human that could wake up at any moment. Zepheera didn't care.

Keeping her eye out for signs of movement, she carefully circled around the top of the pillow towards the opposite side, inching closer to Donna's face once it was in view. The weight of her head caused a slope, so Zepheera had to slow down to keep her balance as she approached Donna’s forehead.

She reached out a hand to touch her, but hesitated before making contact. 

When the Doctor had taken Donna's memories, Zepheera had no clue what was going on. All the confusion and pain hit so strongly in that moment that she had a hard time remembering the few moments after Donna had passed out into the Doctor’s arms. Her raw throat told her plenty about all the screaming she'd apparently done, but the one sensation that she did recall was heat.

Donna’s forehead ended up leaning against the shoulder Zepheera had occupied at the time. Desperate to be close to her friend in a moment of visceral impulse, Zepheera's hands were pressed to it the moment it was in reach. Humans ran rather warm compared to borrowers; she'd grown used to their body heat, but that… That wasn't a normal temperature by any means. Zepheera just didn't care at the time because the despair in her heart overruled the fire under her hands.

With that memory returning, alongside the knowledge that this was likely the last contact Zepheera would ever make with her best friend, she took a deep breath and gently pressed her hand to the skin.

It was still warm, but nowhere near the fever Zepheera felt before. She let out a slow, shuddering breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding. She could be upset about it all she liked, but it became clear right then that the Doctor was right. That what he did was making her better.

That didn't make losing Donna hurt any less.

Zepheera lifted her other hand to join the first, using them to balance herself so she could lean in and place her much smaller forehead on Donna's. Her eyes squeezed shut in a failed attempt to will away her tears, and she shared a breath with her sleeping friend.

“Bye, Donna…”

She stayed there for an all-too-brief moment. Just after she'd brought herself to pull away, she felt the flesh beneath her fingers twitch. The eyebrows to her left were shifting, and the chest beyond heaved with a deeper breath than before.

Donna was waking up, and Zepheera needed to be scarce when she did!

Throwing caution to the wind, hoping the human was too out of it to truly notice, she pushed off of Donna's forehead with both hands and used that momentum to scramble back along the pillow. Donna’s brow furrowed, and a hand loomed overhead to absently rub her forehead as she gave a yawn. By then, Zepheera had slid over the side of the pillow and landed silently on the mattress, tucking herself out of sight behind it.

“Blimey…” she heard Donna mumble. Small movements that Zepheera couldn't see translated into tremors through the mattress under her feet. “What time is…?”

Zepheera dropped from a crouch to her hands and knees as the mattress heaved under her thanks to Donna sitting up properly to have a look around and down at herself. From her hiding spot, Zepheera could see Donna fish through her pockets to find her mobile, its screen glowing softly in the distance.

“Thirty-two??” Donna exclaimed, properly awake and full of all that energy once again. With a final lurch under Zepheera, she hopped out of bed and marched out of the room, eyes glued to her phone.

With the room completely still and truly silent, Zepheera had nothing left to distract her from the overwhelming dread that told her it was over.

Donna was gone, forever.

[jorvikpov]

At long last, your seemingly endless search has come to an end. Yet, it is far from a triumphant victory; bittersweet at best. The answers you have found only bring on more questions. More problems to be solved. Where they bring hope, they also bring despair, and where they bring solace, they also bring dread. There is something that could be done, after all—that could bring an end to things for good—but it seems so frighteningly impossible that you feel even further from a solution than before. If this is your only chance, and it would certainly seem that way judging by the hundreds if not thousands of books you have combed through, you are barely left with any chance at all.

In the library’s basement, the hardwood floor has become worn and eroded with time. In one particularly decrepit corner, a root pokes through the half-rotten planks. It is hard to say if the floor has shifted around it over time or if it was always there, and it seems strange to find such a thing this far underground; regardless, it seems to belong. You sit there often. Touching the root feels familiar, almost like coming home. It buzzes with a warmth that you could never quite put words to before. You understand it better now. Running through the very foundation of Jorvik is a sprawling network of ancient, living roots. If the legends reaccounted in the great, dusty tome you found in the library’s furthest corner are to be trusted, Aideen herself courses through them. She may have given herself up all those countless years ago, but she never truly disappeared; she is still and always here, keeping the island alive just as she gave it life in the beginning. Someday, it is said, Jorvik will call to her for help, and she will once again be awakened.

The scholar noting down the legends seemed doubtful of their legitimacy at best and downright mocking at worst, but the Moon Rider brushed it off—this book is all you have, after all, and what reason would a learned scholar, a woman of science, have to believe in ancient Druidic legends? It feels like a thin, weak thread to hold on to, but it is all you have. The Moon Rider reminds you with care every so often that she saw the book in a vision, and that both of your powers, at their core, come from Aideen. In a way, the goddess herself guided you to this book. Surely, then, it must hold some truth.

The Moon Rider asks you, on occasion, if you have had any visions as of late. These days, your answer is always no. Her ever-present frown always deepens, as if she had expected a different reply this time around, and then she shakes it off and returns to her research. You try not to think much of her concern, or the fact that you haven’t had a vision in weeks, now. You hope desperately that it is a sign that things are okay. Perhaps your opponents have been halted in their quest to grow stronger. Perhaps there is no hurry. Perhaps you have plenty of time to figure out the next step of your mission. Even so, you feel like you are teetering just at the edge of something—a great abyss, or a cliff you cannot see beyond—and, yet, like the edge is just out of reach. It’s as though the walls you’ve built around yourself are closing in on you and the clouds overhead becoming denser with every passing moment, keeping you from seeing beyond the fall. These days, you only need to reach out the smallest bit to feel cold, hard stone.

You have completely stopped spending your nights in the library. With the mission you came here on completed and any further research seemingly hopeless, there is no more reason for you to stay there, especially when the stables bring you far more peace and quiet. Still, you almost never find rest. You dream of surges of power so great that you wake with a thundering heart and a looming fear that you will be destroyed by something within yourself. You dream of the dam bursting, of everything you have so carefully built up and repaired coming down in less than a moment never to come back, of the freedom that follows, then wake in a cold sweat, every inch of your body trembling with fear of what that would do to you. You dream of something so ancient it is unknowable and so terrifying it is unthinkable, but somehow, in the dream, carries a strange sense of familiarity so strong that you feel like you have known it and thought it all your life. You wake gasping for air and yet feeling, for a moment, like you are breathing deeper than you ever have before. At times, you wonder if these dreams are visions, but you brush the thought off as soon as it comes to you. They cannot be. They must not come to fruition. You have not had a vision in weeks. The dreams are nothing only just that: dreams.

Sometimes, just after waking while your dream has yet to leave you, you feel like the walls of the dam are beginning to tremble—to weaken with time—and wonder for a moment if learning the unknowable is inevitable. The moment you fully awaken, the thought once again feels irrational at best, and yet, it will strike you again the next time you wake from a strange dream. So the cycle repeats itself over and over each and every night until the rooster crows in the morning and you leave once again for the library. It is far from a pleasant cycle, and yet, you hope to stay in it for as long as you can. All you know to do with the future is dread it. You have no wish to find out what is to come.

[starreadssstuff]

Fragments of a broken bond -Nanami Kento

warnings - Angsty, character death, spoilers! (kinda idk) emotional distress if anything LMK!

Authors note- y'all... I have been so M.I.A lately so im super sorry!! writers block and life have been crappy soooo... But I am planing on writing a lot more but yk. I really hope u enjoy!! love, star ♥️

Dark clouds loomed overhead as the once serene landscape trembled with an impending threat. You and Nanami Kento, bound by a love as strong as the sorcery that coursed through your veins, stood side by side, ready to face the cursed adversary that threatened to tear your world apart.

The battle was fierce, the air heavy with desperation and the taste of bitter defeat. Spells collided, shattering the calm of the forest, and cries of anguish pierced the air. In the chaos, you caught sight of Nanami, his expression etched with determination, fighting valiantly against the cursed entity.

With a surge of energy, you summoned every ounce of your power, unleashing a spell so potent it rocked the very foundations of your existence. But in that moment, the enemy struck with a vengeance, and a wave of darkness engulfed the battlefield.

When the smoke cleared, you found yourself standing alone, your heart pounding with fear and despair. Kento was nowhere to be found. Panic gripped your chest as you frantically searched the wreckage, calling out his name in a voice choked with tears.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as the weight of loss settled upon your shoulders. The world had grown cold, its colors faded, devoid of the warmth that Nanami's presence once brought. Every breath you took felt shallow, each heartbeat a reminder of the emptiness that consumed you.

Unable to bear the pain any longer, you sought solace in the memories you shared. Photographs, letters, and trinkets became your lifeline, preserving fragments of a love that once thrived. In the quiet corners of your mind, you replayed moments spent together—laughter, whispered promises, and stolen kisses.

One moonlit night, as you stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing at the starry sky, a gust of wind caressed your cheeks, carrying with it a faint echo of Kento’s voice. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I never wanted to leave you. Please, find happiness."

Tears mingled with the wind as you whispered your response to the empty night, "I'll carry your love with me always, Kento. But without you, happiness feels distant and unattainable."

Days turned into months, and months turned into years, but the ache in your heart remained steadfast. Though you continued to live, the shadow of loss loomed over every step you took. The world moved on, but you remained trapped in a bittersweet limbo, forever haunted by the ghost of a love lost.

In the quiet corners of your existence, you often imagined what life could have been. Would Kento have held you close during sleepless nights? Would he have shared stories of his past, allowing you to bear witness to the depths of his soul? The unanswered questions haunted you, forever etching an anguished longing in your heart.

As time marched on, you vowed to honor Kento’s memory by channeling your pain into purpose. You became a beacon of hope for others, wielding your sorcery to bring solace to those plagued by curses. And as you embarked on your journey, you carried within you the fragments of a broken bond, forever etched in your soul.

For love, even in its absence, has the power to transform sorrow into strength and pain into resilience. And in the depths of your grief, you clung to that glimmer of hope, carrying the memory of Nanami Kento with you, forever.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

There is some dub-con in this chapter, so please beware before reading. <3

Chapter 49

Pierce and his men were long gone, leaving me bound tightly to the chair. The restraints cut into my wrists, a constant reminder of my helplessness. I didn’t feel any different physically, but the looming threat of Pierce triggering my adrenaline at any moment gnawed at my sanity. My heart raced as I scanned the dimly lit room, seeking any possible means of escape. Shadows danced on the grimy walls, cast by the flickering overhead light. Despite my frantic efforts, the restraints held firm, unyielding, and merciless.

After what felt like an eternity of struggling, exhaustion overcame me. I slumped in the chair, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down my forehead. My mind teetered on the brink of despair when the silence was shattered by the creak of the door. My head jerked up, hope flaring briefly as Bucky stepped into the room.

"Bucky, please, get me out of here," I pleaded, my voice trembling. His face twisted with anger at the mention of his name, his eyes cold and unrecognizable. "Bucky, please," I repeated, desperation seeping into my voice as I fought against my restraints.

Without warning, he slapped me across the face, the force of the blow snapping my head to the side. The sting spread across my cheek, and I tasted blood. His eyes, once familiar, now brimmed with unrelenting hatred. I was too stunned to cry, my mind struggling to process the betrayal and pain.

He walked over to the wall and pressed the button to release me from the restraints. Even the way he moved had changed, a cold, mechanical precision replacing his former grace. I watched him silently as he approached, his expression unreadable. He yanked me out of the chair with such force that I feared he might dislocate my shoulder.

"Please, Bucky, don't you remember me?" I asked, my voice trembling with desperation as I tried to pry his iron grip off my arm.

He turned to look me in the eyes, and I braced myself for another slap. His chest heaved with each breath, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my face, mingling with the cold sweat on my skin.

Without warning, he grabbed my chin with his metal hand, the cold steel biting into my skin. He pushed me against the wall, his body pressing threateningly close to mine. The chill of the concrete seeped through my clothes, and I shivered, both from fear and the contact with the cold surface. The flickering light above cast harsh shadows, accentuating the intensity in his eyes as he loomed over me.

He pressed his lips onto mine without warning, the kiss rough and aggressive. His other hand gripped my waist tightly, almost painfully. I froze, my body tense with fear. This didn't feel like kissing Bucky; it felt like a stranger wearing his face. The tenderness I once knew was gone, replaced by a forceful intensity that made my heart race with panic.

I closed my eyes as he tried to force his tongue into my mouth, biting my lip in the process. He moaned at the taste of my blood, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. Desperation clawed at my mind. Maybe if I gave in, he would remember who he was. Or perhaps I told myself that to make this violation feel less horrifying.

I parted my lips, and his tongue pushed into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tightened his grip on my neck, pulling me closer, while one of his legs pressed between mine, rubbing against me in an unnervingly precise motion. His other hand roamed down my arm, sending a shiver through me as it eventually rested possessively on my hip.

I moaned at the intense friction between my legs and the unmistakable press of his arousal against me. This moment felt wrong, foreign—nothing like the man I loved. Desperation to reconnect with a semblance of reality made me open my eyes, hoping to find some familiarity in his face. He had his eyes closed, lost in the moment, our tongues entwined. With a sudden movement, he lifted me and pressed me against the wall, my legs instinctively wrapping around him.

I could hear the rasp of his zipper as he fumbled with it one-handed, his other arm bracing me against the wall while he continued his relentless assault on my mouth. Without warning, he thrust into me, making me gasp as he groaned into my lips. The suddenness of his movement sent my head lolling back, exposing my neck. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot and heavy. He bit and sucked at the sensitive skin, each touch intensifying the relentless rhythm of his thrusts.

His grunts grew more fervent, his hands gripping my thighs with a force that left bruising marks. Soft whimpers and moans escaped my lips as I felt myself tighten around him, his lips finding mine once more. One hand held my neck possessively, his fingers pressing into my skin. As he bit my lip again, the sharp taste of my blood mingled with the metallic tang in my mouth. With a final, guttural grunt, he climaxed inside me, his body shuddering with the intensity of the moment.

He dropped me abruptly, wiping the traces of my blood from his lips with a look of revulsion. “Bucky?” I whispered, hoping to see some flicker of recognition, but the sneer on his face was a harsh answer. His gaze shifted downward, taking in the evidence of what had just occurred, a reminder of our ordeal staining my legs. He grabbed a rag from a shelf on the wall and tossed it at me with a dismissive gesture.

"We’re leaving in fifteen minutes," he spat, his voice cold and final. He turned on his heel, slamming the door shut with a resounding clang. I sank slowly down the wall, burying my face in my hands. My sobs reverberated through the room, each cry a hollow echo in the oppressive silence.

Next Chapter

[hrodvitnon]

BAGAN (2/3)

Long overdue at this point, but hey - more Bagan stuff. With extra suffering on the menu for all involved!

-

Abraxas couldn't do anything. They couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could barely even move as Bagan loomed overhead. It towered over them and it felt like a wet tongue was lapping across their brain every time it spoke, leaving scalding boiling scars that made their head pulse and ache.

"Oh, how you have suffered, Abraxas," It droned in its ever-present monotone. Abraxas felt something reach down and lift them into the air, pulling them up towards Bagan's face. "Two lost children, tortured and broken and then fooled into thinking that they were able to escape the grand tragedy of their lives. Had you continued to exist as you had before, your despair would have grown so great that it would have finally led you on the path to me. To rob you of that, I can think of no greater crime."

Abraxas struggled to raise their head, glaring at the dark towering shape that even now felt as though it was indistinct - a paper-thin mask for something vast and incalculable, a void rent into the universe in a chosen shape for a chosen purpose. It twisted and rent their very being just to struggle to perceive it through the haze.

"F...Fuc-k y-ou..."

It went through several faces in that moment. Enjin, then Mizu, then their mother again, before finally settling on the three-headed visage of Ghidorah. Except the golden scales were torn and darkened, almost the color of bloody muscle, the heads of Ichi and Ni riddled with holes and large bloated growths filled with eyes and teeth and worms. And the head of the San-Who-Could-Have-Been was hanging by a cord of meat, drooping dull and lifeless as it drooled blood and viscera onto the ground below.

"AH, BUT WE WOULD NOT WISH TO RUSH THINGS SO SOON. NOT WHEN WE HAVE BEEN GIVEN ANOTHER CHANCE TO RELISH YOU."

"I CAN SMELL THE NEED ON YOU. YOU WANTED THIS, YOU WANTED US. ADMIT IT."

"struggled died for nothing what was the point the point the point"

Abraxas tried to call the lightning, tried to make it rush through their body and tear into the abomination that held them aloft. But nothing came. They were held there as Bagan puppeted the form of Ghidorah to mock them, the three heads moving with none of their trademark deceptive finesse and grace, but with the motions of poorly rigged puppets or dolls.

"PERHAPS YOU WOULD LIKE US TO CONSUMMATE OUR UNION, NOW THAT WE HAVE THE TIME..."

Their eyes widened, and they struggled ever harder against the invisible grip that held them still. The form of Ghidorah melted away as Doragon quickly replaced it, the draconic demon tilting its head at the Ghidorah hybrid.

"They have wished deeply to taste of you, even now. Even as a part of me. Unfortunately, I will have to deny them the opportunity," It said, its face bulging outward as as black bubbling fluid leaked from every corner of its body and started to envelop the Titan.

"Goodbye, Abraxas. Know that in my embrace, your despair shall not be put to waste, like it would in the Mother Dark's gentle hands. You shall remain here, with me, onto eternity. Sleep and struggle no more."

Abraxas wanted to scream, to shout, to cry for help. But any such pleas would have been useless even before the black fluid started flooding their throat. The bile tasting of nothing less than every pain they'd ever experienced, every ounce of suffering and torture Ghidorah put them through, every world that the golden monster had ever murdered, every loss and every possibility of loss past, present and future. The lives and suffering of countless trillions threatening to wash them away.

Their face was just about to be totally enveloped before a familiar roar and a bright burst of blue forced the sickly mass of fluid darkness to retract from them, burning it away in the nick of time.

Abraxas fell to the ground hard, falling to their hands and knees as they hacked and spluttered, puking up the inky sludge that swiftly grew legs like a spider and scuttled away to join the main mass, which was already reforming into the shape of Bagan once again. The demon's still-forming head turned to address the hybrid's would-be savior. 

"Ah, the guest of honor himself and his entourage. It pleases me that-"

Another atomic breath met the unnatural thing before it could finish its sentence, followed swiftly by a blast of frigid ice freezing the entire mass solid, before the blow of a supercharged axe blew the whole thing apart. Godzilla stood silent as he trudged in, Kong and Shimo to either side as they stared at the remaining shards of ice.

"Be silent."  The King's growl shook the earth with the force and weight of his wrath.

Kong knelt down to grab his axe, inspecting it silently before turning to Godzilla, who addressed him and Shimo with a gruff nod. "Be on your guard. I do not think that killed it." 

Abraxas was already thankful for the arrival of their king and the others, but as they felt familiar warm wings drape themselves over them, they had to stop themself from just completely relaxing into that embrace and drifting off. Rodan looked at them, worry painting the beak of the normally perpetually cocky firebird.

Abraxas did their best to give him a grin. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Are the others...?" Abraxas asked, almost worried. Rodan nodded. "They're fine. Better than that, they're on their way. Managed to meet up with the big guy and the monkey, and Mothra went to go fetch the others. They should be here soon."

Abraxas sighed with relief at their mate's words. It was fine. Everything was going to be okay...they could deal with this now that everyone was here. Those were their thoughts right before the monotone voice droned through the air once again.

"The familiar noisome sensation of hope, lingering wherever the masses believe despair to be quelled. It is a sensation that can only be attributed to you and yours, Gojira."

The lingering particles of Shimo's frigid breath swirled together, clustering and condensing themselves back into shape, as all the while that voice droned on. "Yet, as you bring hope as surely as this planet orbits its star, are you not the one with some of the deepest despair of all?" 

Godzilla growled and a quickly formed atomic breath tore through the cloud of still-condensing particles. When Bagan spoke next, the very air seemed to swell and howl with its voice, a collective chorus of all the world's sorrow.

"You try to deny it, but we both know that you cannot escape what you fear...can you, brother?"

 Godzilla and the others froze, as the dust blew away and out came...something else. Something wrong. 

It looked like the shape of Godzilla's brother, Ozymandias-then-Xenilla, still looking as he was before they managed to recover him - infested with that crystalline parasite. But worse, somehow. His armss were painfully stretched out, so long that they flopped almost useless at the thing's sides. Its entire upper body looked hopelessly emaciated, to the point its skeleton was almost visible beneath the flesh. The skull was drawn out in a parody of Ozymandias', stretched to a terrible degree as eyes like pinpricks of violet light shown within. But the worst part were the crystals. Stretching and swelling across every inch of it - crystals. More of them than there ever were across the body of Ozymandias. So many digging into its back that they formed a mane of them, teeth and claws made out of the alien mineral dripping with blood and viscera from where they tore the skin. And they pulsed malevolently, almost organically with every wheezing breath the monster took.

Shimo was the first to break out of the stupor that the paralyzing visage had cast upon them, and it was a bloodchilling cry - of anger, of pain, of sheer and absolute terror as memories of Xenilla's arrival were forcefully dredged back up. Kong was next, barely able to raise his axe with how his kept shivering involuntarily. Rodan pulled Abraxas closer to himself, holding his mate up even as the two stood and beheld the nightmare before them with equal horror. But it was Godzilla whose reaction was the greatest. 

No words were said, no simple growls of outrage made. 

There was merely the earth-splitting howl of the king as vibrant light exploded around him as he charged at Bagan's newest mask. And his rage was met with the unmistakable cries of Ozymandias, warped and rattling beneath a throat made of crystal.

---

(Ach, apologies for the wait! Currently out of state right now because my cousin is getting married but at least the hotel has WiFi!)

JeeeeAYSUS WEPT, BUT BAGAN HOW ARE YOU THIS CREEPY?! OH GOD THE FACE MELTING AND THE SLUDGE GOING INTO ABRAXAS' MOUTH OH FUCK THAT'S ICKY THAT'S NOT GOOD THAT FEELS REALLY NOT GOOD... which is to say, holy shit that was a turn and I dig how horribly creepy Bagan got. Good thing the cavalry showed up... but now Goji's about to go ballistic and I can't wait to see how this goes...

[starboundanon]

anakin’s night routine (eating spiders?) while obi-wan is sleeping from ragnarlothcats devil’s in the details

Ah, a fav. Devil's In the Details by RagnarLothcat.

Send me a missing scene!

The intruder sleeps soundly in his presence, a vile insult.

Anakin watches with brimstone eyes, cataloguing the gentle rise and fall of his sturdy chest, the way his slow breaths tickle the copper hairs curled around his lips. The sight draws him closer, perching on the bed, pleased when his pretty pest twists away from the heat of his smoldering body. Good, he thinks, exhaling smoke from tar black lungs. That's what you get, entering my domain uninvited!

He keeps the man fast asleep, a wave of his clawed hand over that pale face, sowing dark dreams into a surprisingly resilient psyche. Handsome brows furrow in despair as his imagination turns cruel, feeding Anakin's power, his might.

A cold smile crosses his face as he fills that intriguing mind with gorgeous thoughts, blood and viscera and melodic screams, a tapestry of his skill and prowess, a harrowing sight. This man will know whose house he has attempted to steal, come the morning. He will make sure of it.

The moon drifts overhead in a graceful arch as the hours tick by. Curiously, Anakin doesn't move. He should be looming by now, bent over his new prey to ensure he sees nothing but blood red eyes when he jolts awake from his gifted nightmares, but he stays where he is, lingering at his side.

It gives him the best view of that masculine profile, the slender slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw. He is a demon; he has no need for vanity. Yet the landscape of this thief's bearded face is... pleasant. And Anakin has never denied himself pleasure in all the long millennia of his life.

He can indulge for one night, he decides. Tomorrow, he'll begin the ritual of tearing this man's mental state down brick by metaphorical brick. Tonight, he will simply observe. It's his house, thank-you-very-much. He can do as he likes.

An impressive specimen creeps from beneath the man's bed, sneaking across his sinfully soft mattress. Anakin watches it lazily, reading the spider's thoughts of caution danger predator stay in the dark in its modest, inarticulate arachnese. Eight long legs move in symmetrical unison as it climbs his guest's body like a shivering mountain, over toned arms and broad shoulders.

It's large, by this house's standards. It crawls slowly up the pale column of the slumbering thief's throat, tickling his facial hair, making him twitch. Anakin listens and watches intently as the dark dreams he had graciously bestowed on his new plaything's mind take a different shape, a different color. The violence he meticulously crafted shudders and scatters into a thousand baby spiders, an entire hoard, scurrying in all directions, blotting out his hard work.

Rude!

The spider inches up up up, until at last it rests on the man's sculpted cheek, two back legs brushing against the corner of his lips. Its body is large enough to cover his face from eyes to mouth — a mother, Anakin realizes, likely inspecting their newest intruder much the same way he is — but he is irked by her presence all the same. He has a job to do, here. Those were his handcrafted nightmares she just overwrote!

Irritated, he plucks the offending beast from his guest's face, trading insults through her prosaic language before opening his mouth and swallowing her whole. Immediately the man relaxes, his shivers dying out to calm stillness, the darkness of his dreams swept away to nothing. A neutral, grey mist.

He purposefully does not delve deeper into the satisfaction he feels in that moment. Yes, this man's fear and torment is his ultimate goal, his untimely death an inevitable part of the game. But Anakin himself will be the only one toying with this mysterious stranger in his own house, and if the creepy-crawlies watching them from the shadows don't like it, they'll just have to get used to the infinite liminal space of smoke and flame that is his belly. Serves them right.

Because this man, his newest and prettiest plaything, is his.

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 48: Whimsy

Chapter 48: Whimsy

Note: Thanks for your patience with this chapter! I really appreciate it. Seriously.

(-~-)

A blast of cold air hit the duo as they entered the premises, their ears instantly flooded with the pleasant sound of bubbling and trickling water. The room was dimly lit in a menagerie of shades of green and blue, aquas and teals blanketing every surface. Their shoes clicked against the hardwood floors as they stepped off the carpet in the entry lobby and onto the branching walking path of the aquarium. It was climate controlled and quiet, the perfect environment to enjoy their little rendezvous with the denizens of the deep.

A substantial placard hung from the ceiling with arrows and labels to help direct them along their way. And, to the quiet excitement of the summoner with the white hair, this place had a little bit of everything. Tropical fish, ocean fish, cold water, and warm water. Freshwater fish were divided up by river, lake, stream, and pond; large and small, deep and shallow. And ocean fish were divvied up in a similar fashion, separated by ocean, temperature, environment, and size. And he intended to see as much of it as possible during this trip, unsure as to when he would have the opportunity to do so again.

But as the young summoner looked over his options and made an effort to figure out where they should probably start, something caught his eye that immediately sent an excited chill down his spine. Well, this day was just getting better and better.

They had a deep-sea section at this aquarium…

Chuckling to himself as he fondly regarded his friend, Sirrus looked up at the sign above them. Yes, this place had a great variety of species for them to view and enjoy. But considering the excitement that radiated off of his companion, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that he was looking forward to most. And he got the impression that he’d already found something worth checking out.

“Has something in particular caught your eye?” Sirrus said with a gentle nod up towards the ceiling sign, the two of them stepping a little further into the building as they decided their route. V glanced over at him, realizing that he’d been somewhat caught up in what he’d been thinking, his eagerness and excitement distracting him more than he’d initially realized.  After a moment, he nodded, a faint smile appearing on his face, if only for a fleeting moment. This… was going to be fun. What a foreign concept.

“Yes. Something certainly has. But I believe we will find our way there organically.” V said as he started forward, there was something of a fork in the road ahead of them, but every road led back to the others from what he could tell. That was what he could tell from looking at the sign overhead anyhow. “Where would you like to go first?”

Sirrus gestured towards the path directly ahead of them, the one that led to the freshwater section of the aquarium. He didn’t actually have a preference in regard to destination. Be it the aquatic animals or his friend’s refreshing happiness, he was being entertained regardless. The fish were stunning, sure, but V was equally compelling to him, so there was no losing in this situation. “I’ll follow you.”

“Fine by me,” V said with a soft chuckle. As long as they got going, he didn’t care where they went. This wasn’t a marathon or a sprint. This was leisure. And although he was struggling with the concept of relaxing, letting his guard down, and simply enjoying himself and the moment, he was still willing to try and do it. And having some company along for the journey in an environment that he enjoyed was always a bonus. For once he didn’t feel on edge and there was no looming sense of doom or despair. And he just didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d honestly forgotten what it felt like to relax.

… Was this what it felt like to be his father? To always be on alert, regardless of the circumstances? To be permanently unable to unwind.

What a horrifying thing to ponder… 

For a moment, V couldn’t help but think about Vergil. He wondered what he was up to. How he’d been since they’d left town. His injuries during their battle with Belial had been utterly horrific, and there was a part of him that was concerned that his father probably wasn’t taking it as easily as he should be. He knew factually that Dante and Vergil both healed faster than he did by quite a large margin, but as Sirrus had inadvertently demonstrated with his own recovery process, sometimes the healing process wasn’t actually complete just because the skin, muscle, and bone fused back together properly. An experience like that could take a lot out of anyone.

His father didn’t strike him as the sort to take it easy when he was told to do so, either. V wasn’t sure that Vergil even knew what meant, if he was being completely honest with himself. He’d never really seen his father relax to any meaningful degree; the Darkslayer was always alert to some extent. It was just who he was, and it had helped to keep him alive this long, so V couldn’t fault him for it, but he did feel a tinge of pain in a deep part of his being when he considered everything that his father had been through that had made him the way that he was. He’d… he’d been through a lot.

… Maybe when he got back they should spend some time together. He could invite Nero, too. The three of them had never actually spent any sort of meaningful time together alone. Perhaps the two of them just needed to interact with their father a little more. In fact, maybe they all needed to sit down and have a conversation. What that conversation entailed wasn’t something that he could speak on just yet, but it seemed like it might be a good idea.

V would think about it. And then he would ask Nero what he thought about it.

(-~-)

Stepping out of the tropical fish section past the copious variety of Tang, cleaner fish, and colorful reef fish, the duo passed through a set of sliding glass doors and were greeted with the semi-bright light of the outside world. A shaded walkway led to several open pools, some raised and some flush with the ground for a variety of viewing angles. But to get to them, they could either take the main path or pass through what appeared to be a colossal mesh enclosure of some sort. Without any discussion on the matter, the two of them opted to take the latter route. Whatever it led through had to be worth their time, even if it was only set dressing and landscaping.

Pivoting off to the left side, they made their way up to the mesh door that led into the enclosure, one of the members of the staff stepping back and pulling it open for them. He closed the door behind them the instant they stepped through, leading the pair to look at one another in a mixture of barely present concern and confusion. Had there been some sort of mix-up? Had they gone somewhere they weren’t supposed to? Neither of them could recall seeing a Staff sign anywhere on their way over.

“What do you suppose that was about?” V said offhandedly as they headed through the exhibit, the path curving as they gradually looped back around to where the pools they’d seen earlier had been. The path wasn’t very long, perhaps only a few dozen yards, but it was brightly lit from the overhead sky and there was a pleasant, water-scented breeze that drifted through the air. Whether the scent was a result of the open pools of water at the aquarium or the nearby like wasn’t something either of them was privy to, but it was noticeable regardless.

“I was wondering the same thing, but I have come up empty-handed. Perhpase-.” Sirrus stopped the same instant that he’d started, suddenly acutely aware of something that he couldn’t help but notice. And as he followed the genuinely bewildered look on V’s face as the young summoner looked just above him before following his gaze back down, he felt something light on his shoulder. And with a cautious glance to the side, unsure as to whether or not he should move although he liked to imagine V would inform him as to whether or not he was in danger, he suddenly had to suppress the urge to jump in surprise. There was a parrot on his shoulder.

Above them were several varieties of tropical birds, large and small, fluttering through the breeze and nesting in the canopy of shady trees that draped lazily over their head just below the mesh enclosure. This was an open-air bird exhibit. Oh. The doorman’s hasty closure of the door made a lot more sense now.

Looking at the beautiful blue parrot -or was it a parakeet? He couldn’t tell- Sirrus could hardly believe it was sitting on him. It had a cute round head with a small red beak and large, bright eyes. He dared not speak out of fear that the little creature would flutter away and abandon them, leaving them forlorn and birdless. Well, perhaps not entirely birdless since Griffon was still thoroughly in the picture, but still. Tiny, cuddly birdless, anyways.

Without giving it much thought other than to hope that he wasn’t scaring the poor creature, V slowly raised his hand up, keeping his fingers still in an effort to not startle the small creature away. It turned slightly to look at him, ignoring its previous focus on Sirrus’s hair which it had been intermittently playing with. Perhaps its bright hue had been what had caught the little bird’s eye in the first place? Regardless, with his index and middle fingers just an inch or so from the bird’s body, V silently hoped that it wouldn’t flutter away. It was just so… he just wanted to pet it so badly. He probably wasn’t even supposed to, but no one had told him that, so… 

But to his obvious alarm, the bird didn’t tuck tail and fly away. Far from it, in fact. In one swift little motion, it hopped onto his outstretched fingers, perching and preening as they both just stared at it V very hesitantly scoffed and chuckled at its apparent lack of fear. To say that he was surprised that it had done that would be something of an understatement. He had fully expected it to fly away. And as he moved to raise his other hand to attempt to pet it, he realized rather quickly that it was occupied, almost forgetting that he had his cane amidst the excitement, a situation that the man with the long mostly red hair quickly clued into and attempted to rectify, reaching over slowly and taking the cane from his companion so that V could finally pet the little bird. And to no one’s surprise, it was just as softy and fuzzy as it looked, the little creature letting out a little squeak of sorts as the gave it a few gentle strokes before lowering his hand, giving Sirrus an opportunity to do the same. The adjudicator chuckled, a vibrant smile spreading across his face as he made no attempt to conceal how amused he was by this turn of events. And just as he lowered his hand the bird finally decided that it had finally had enough of this little visit, flapping its wings for a moment before flying back up into the canopy with the other birds, leaving them to continue on the path that they’d chosen to follow.

Neither of them had to say it. They were thrilled that they’d chosen to come this way.

Sirrus shook his head at how ridiculous this entire situation was as the two of them made their way out of the exit gate, both of them still radiating amusement and wonderment as they approached the exit and passed through it back into the outside world. That little bird had made their entire day. Surely.

V felt his feathered companion shift in the darker recesses of his mind, making himself known. But before V could ask Griffon if something was amiss or if he sensed that something was out of place, his large avian companion spoke up, grumbling slightly. “Mhph. Ya know, you could pet me like that sometime, too. I’m just sayin’.”

The white-haired summoner turned slightly red in the face at the comment, combing the recess of his mind as he tried to remember the last time that he’d done that. And he came up empty, nothing of note sticking out to him. He knew that he’d done it before, but the fact that he couldn’t recall when he’d done so immediately made him feel terrible. Maybe Griffon had a point, now that he thought about it… 

“Forgive me, my friend. I shall endeavor to do better in the future.” V’s apology was sincere despite the fact that he didn’t speak out loud, though he did get the impression from the glance that he received from Sirrus that the adjudicator could still tell that he was doing something that he wasn’t speaking of. He didn’t enquire, but it was as if he could sense something. To be fair, it was Sirrus. He probably could.

“Uh-hu. You’d better, string bean! The kitty isn’t the only one who likes a little affection every now and then. But I’ll drop it for now. Just don’t forget mkay?” Griffon said in the tone of a disappointed parent who was chastizing their parent for forgetting to take the trash out before they made it home from work. V could practically see his familiar shaking his little head in disapproval, his judgment of his character as severe and scathing as the mid-day sun in the open desert. He would endeavor to show them both more affection. The thought that Griffon wanted more attention from him hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I won’t. I promise.”

Exiting the bird enclosure and heading down the path, they were greeted with several large tanks containing several types of small reef sharks and a few varieties of much larger sharks, all of which were still juveniles. Understandable, considering how impractical and needlessly unpleasant for everyone involved it would be to keep an adult hammerhead or a great white shark in a tank. And as they continued onward, they approached the first of the in-ground pools, nearly back at one of the doors that led back into the building. The other two contained a few varieties of turtle and fish, something they could clearly see from this distance. But what was in this pool was harder to get a read on, and it was substantially larger in size than the others, something that caught V’s attention immediately.

He came to a stop in front of the pool, leaning over and gripping the railing as he looked over into the water to attempt to ascertain its contents. But it was hard to get a good look at what those large, vague shapes were through the murky water. It was certainly large and a freshwater fish, but nothing had come to the surface just yet. Yes, he could go and look at the sign next to the tank, but this was more fun, at least as far as he was concerned. There was a mystery to be solved.

“I wonder what-”

V didn’t get a chance to finish speaking a large fin, at least as long as the lower half of his body, sprang up and out of the water, splashing his with barely warm water and soaking him thoroughly. He jumped back slightly, bumping into Sirrus, his companion not bothered at all as he caught him under the arm, fully in the process of hysterically laughing at his friend’s obvious fright. It was good to see that his fight-or-flight instincts still worked properly. He obviously hadn’t expected that to happen, and being wet was simply the icing on top of the shock sundae. Now he was cold and confused.

“Apparently they are Giant Freshwater Stingrays. They typically stay on the bottom of the enclosure. Apparently, that one didn’t get the memo.” Sirrus said as he helped his sopping-wet friend steady himself, the summoner quite literally attempting to shake off the shock he’d just received. Sirrus was quite certain he’d seen his soul jump straight out of his body for a moment there. Truly the definition of peak entertainment.

V just nodded, unable to string together a coherent train of thought. There… there were rays that big? He’d only ever seen pictures of the little ones… He.. he didn’t want to stand here any longer. This experience had exposed a fear of deep, dark water that he hadn’t realized he’d had previously. He already didn’t like moving water, but now he could add still, dark water to that list. Hooray, he’d unlocked a new phobia!

“I… I don't think I like dark water anymore. Or giant stingrays.”

“Maybe we should head back inside, then,” Sirrus said, barely containing the laughter that he was holding in. V looked so funny when his hair was wet. He just looked miserable. It was absolutely hysterical. Poor V. He was certain that he would never ever recover from this experience. “Before any other denizens of the murky deep attempt to snatch you into the inky blackness, never to be seen again.”

V shook his head, walking swiftly away from the tank as he could hear both Sirrus and Griffon laughing at him, the latter of the two giggling about how he was afraid of “the big bad fishy.” How dare they! But he couldn't muster up even a monochrome of the energy required to hold it against either of them. They were both just having a bit of fun. Except for Griffon. He was absolutely going to hold this against him until they both died. He could never hope to recover from such a severe betrayal of his trust.

As they entered the building again through the nearest door, they realized that they’d looped back around towards the entrance. It was a straight shot to the front of the building should they choose to take that route. Opting to stop for a moment to allow the young summoner to catch his breath, Sirrus leaned against the wall nearest to the door they’d just come through, not wanting to wear him out from the sheer amount of walking they’d been doing. V wasn’t tired yet, but they both had an unspoken vested interest in keeping it that way.

But just as the two of them turned to head back towards the front, assured that they’d seen the majority of what the facility had to offer, V suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Sirrus took a few steps before noticing this, turning around and doubling back to see what had caught his friend’s eye. And as he was looking for a placard with information on what exhibit they were standing near, his peripheral vision answered the question for him. And it had been the last thing he would have expected, given V’s newfound fear of deep water.

It was the jellyfish exhibit.

Watching his friend for a moment, he stayed quiet as the young summoner hastily walked through the doorway of the exhibit, not quite jogging, but not quite walking, either. He clearly didn’t want to be rude by running indoors, but his excitement was palpable, even from where Sirrus stood. It was like he’d been summoned by the creatures within the room, his absolute focus upon them as he slipped into the exhibit, his unspoken intent clear. He’d been drawn in. There was no going back.

Sirrus followed him into the large room and the sheer variety of Jellyfish quickly became apparent to him. There were a few dozen of them in different-sized tanks, all of which had rounded corners of some sort to help protect their fragile bodies. Soft shades of pastel lighting aluminated their mostly clear bodies from several sources and angles and provided a great visual contrast to an otherwise mostly colorless room. It was all very eye-catching, but that was all moot compared to how mesmerized V was by it all. And as much as Sirrus didn’t want to disrupt that, he just couldn’t help himself. He had to say something. It was just who he was today, and he had accepted that. But they were both having a good time, so what harm could there possibly be in it?

“You're enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question so much as it was a statement. He spoke softly, gently as if to not scare him as he walked up behind him. The look on V’s face alone made it obvious that he was utterly awed by the little creatures that floated in the round tanks all around them. His eyes were wide and reflected the light around them back onto every surface. He looked like a small child experiencing the wonder of nature for the first time, and Sirrus couldn’t help but smile just a little from witnessing it. He was genuinely happy. There was no question.

“I… I like jellyfish.” V confessed simply, chuckling like a giddy idiot and not caring one single bit. This was the most fun he’d had in recent memory. He was simply overcome with a sense of giddy, innocent, wonderment that he oh so rarely felt. And he was so happy to experience it again. It had been so long. So very long, indeed. He felt a weight he hadn’t realized was there lift from him and he felt light and… free. Truly free for the first time in a very long time. He had no troubles. It was just the moment here with his friend and these spectacular little creatures. And they were so very marvelous. Better than he’d ever imagined they would be. “I’ve always wanted to see them in person. I’ve only seen pictures and footage of them. This is… special. So very special.”

Sirrus looked at his friend, a gentle smile spreading across his face. To see his friend like this, carefree and just enjoying himself? After everything they’d been through since meeting one another all those months ago. Such a short time in the grand scheme of things, but still so very long ago still. It felt like a lifetime and no time all at once. Simple joy like this was so necessary. Little joy like the poem that he saw V read in his quiet moments on the train between their conversations. He’d give the world t to keep him like this. Carefree and lackadaisical with no thoughts or troubles. The world had been so cruel to his friend. He was glad he could help him forget his troubles, even if only for a short while. And although he would’ve never guessed that jellyfish of all things would be the thing to do it, as he stood there in that room with him, he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“What is it that you like about them?” Sirrus asked earnestly, honestly curious as to what it was about these squishy little creatures that brought him such genuine happiness. Their appeal was certainly clear, to be sure. They were very cute. But even still, he could tell that there was more to it than a simple enjoyment of their aesthetic. V rarely had reasons that uncomplicated. “What makes them special to you.”

V continued to look at them for a quiet moment, obviously thinking before turning his attention back to Sirrus for a moment. That was a good question. And it was one that he hoped he could actually provide a meaningful answer to.

“Where should I even start? A majority of them are transparent. Their biology is fascinating. The variety of shapes and colors and sizes they come in… There’s nothing quite like them.” He paused, a glimmer in his eye that dazzled his companion as he continued to speak, pausing for a moment to find the proper words necessary to articulate his thoughts. V turned slightly to get a better look at his companion, something in his face now harder to read. It drew Sirrus in, firmly holding his focus. V had his undivided attention, whether either of them realized it or not. “And yet they are so incredibly fragile. So easily broken. Their conditions have to be just right. The water temperature. The salt content in that water. A strong tide can be ruinous to entire clustered of their population. And yet they persist. They just… keep going. And they aren’t the only ones. Many other creatures do. But theirs just something that makes it special when they do it, at least to me. I cannot help but acknowledge and admire their resilience.”

Sirrus turned and looked at the little floating blobs of jelly, their little tendrils floating behind and below them as they drifted along through the water that filled their tanks. They came in many different shapes, sizes, and colors, that much was true. Their variety was eye-catching. And as he looked at them, trying to regard them through the same lens that his companion did, he found himself viewing them differently. They were unlike so many other things in the ocean, and yet they persisted anyway, unbothered by that fact and largely indifferent to how it affected them unless it became a problem that they couldn’t ignore. They found kinship among their own kind, belonging in the only way that they could in such an unforgiving environment. Their inability to fit in didn’t even occur to them. They just carried on, defiant. Indignant. Wherever the path ahead took them, they marched onward. Perhaps that was too profound a statement to make about these creatures, but it did reveal something to him, nonetheless.

V found kinship in their otherness. The adjudicator saw that now. Perhaps he saw a little bit of who he was in them; in what and how they were in comparison to everything else in the environment around them. Different and utterly unique, for better or for worse. And they still belonged, something that he was still struggling to feel a sense of even now but Sirrus could tell he was getting better at gradually. Something they were both working on. And they were both doing better than ever.

He was proud of them both, but even in light of his own accomplishments, he couldn’t help but feel a great sense of euphoria in regard to the progress his friend had made. He’d been very worried about him for a while there. But that fear was starting to dissolve and the reality that things were now better had settled in. They… could have more moments like this. He… he liked that.

Sirrus didn’t know the depths of his past, but he could see the hold that past had on him. But he was slowly pulling loose; treading water up from the depths in an effort to breach the surface. Sometimes he couldn’t even see that destination. The depths were deep, after all. But he still believe it was there and kept heading upward. He had to believe. It was all he could do. All either of them could do. But at least they weren’t alone anymore.

They’d come a long way since the day he’d found V standing on the corner in the rain.

“I think I understand,” Sirrus said softly, his eyes drifting from his friend to the jellyfish again. They could stay here a little while longer. There was still plenty of time left in the day, after all. So long as they were enjoying themselves and they made it home in time to rest for tomorrow, he didn’t really care where they were. “Thank you.”

“What about you? What’s your favorite deep sea creature? Surely you have one.” V said softly, gazing quietly at the tank in front of him as he stood beside his friend. He genuinely wondered what he would say. And to his slight confusion, Sirrus looked almost embarrassed to answer the question, something he certainly hadn’t expected.

“I… I like Cephalopods and Crustaceans. The more nightmares they give you, the better. The Vampire Squid and the Bigfin are in my top three with the spider crab being a close contender. I could talk about them for hours.” His face flushed slightly and he shifted on his feet, seemingly genuinely embarrassed to reveal what he was about to say. V gave him a slightly sideways look, now deeply intrigued. This was curious.

“But… what’s your favorite?” V simply had to know now. The suspense was simply eating him alive. He couldn’t be expected to just never know now. His reaction alone was all the proof that he needed that this answer was worthwhile. He prodded him gently, practically pleading for an answer. And as Sirrus looked down at the floor and shook his head in utter defeat, he practically whispered his answer, chuckling ever so slightly at his own ridiculousness.

“... The dumbo Octopus.” He spoke as though all the air had left his lungs. V couldn’t recall seeing him so red in the face before. He genuinely seemed embarrassed to admit that he, a self-proclaimed lover of terrifying creatures was head over heels for a tiny, adorable octopus. And it was one of the most endearing things V had ever seen. “Those giant eyes and those little fins on the top of their head are just so… I can’t help myself. They are simply too precious. And now you know my secret shame. Never reveal it to anyone. I beag you.”

V could only squint his eyes and chuckle deep in his chest, his amusement at his friend’s sincerity evident. He had to keep that in mind. A little idea to squirrel away for later. He needed to find him something Dumbo Squid related. He simply had to. “Your secret is safe with me. You have nothing to be ashamed of, however. That is an excellent choice. They are quite precious, aren’t they? And small. So very small.”

Sirrus nodded in agreement before composing himself, glancing over at a clock on the wall. It was time they headed to their next destination. It was just shy of noon now, and they had a few things to take care of before they headed back to his residence for the evening. This had been fun. He was glad that they’d taken the time to come here.

With that, Sirrus gestured towards the entrance, bowing politely as he handed V his cane back. He was probably going to need that to fight off the sting rays they would inevitably encounter along the way. “After you, V. I’ll follow wherever you lead me.”

V smiled slightly in recognition of his friend’s comment before retrieving his cane from him and turning his attention to the entrance. Yes, they had other roads to travel. It was time for this place and this moment to become a fond memory. One he would treasure. Always.

(-~-)

5200 words. Wow, that felt good! I went through and read some of your old comments last night and decided that what I’d already written just wasn’t enough. Thank you to all of you for inspiring me. Your wonderful words really are a light in the dark for me. I’m glad to have such wonderful people who read my story. I'm so lucky. Truly.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Where do you think they should go for their final stop of the day? I’m curious to see what you think. And thank you for the nightmare-fuel revelation that the Bigfin Squid exists. I’ve not known a single moment of peace since. I’ll see you all next Wednesday, and I hope you have a wonderful week in the meantime. Take care and I’ll see you in the comments! And as always, sorry for any mistakes. I pulled a late night on part of this and I double-checked but I’m sure I probably missed something. If you see anything, please let me know and I’ll fix it. Bye Bye!

[yasdnilgoth1]

One Piece: Big Bang

Leia has no clue what has happened to her. One moment, she was being chased by her tormentors during a hurricane, the next she wakes up in an Earth that is not hers. Creatures, monsters and magical fruits that can only exist in fairytales are now the reality that she lives in. Now, she must survive in a strange territory called Totto Land, where she meets new friends, dangerous enemies and a kindred soul that is more than meets the eye. Set 6 years before the Whole Cake Arc. Co-writer: Aiikawarazu. Inspired by "The Vision of Escaflowne" anime

I do not own One Piece plot and characters. But I do own my OCs as well as plot twist. Directed by me and written by the amazing Aiikawarazu! Please enjoy!

                                                 Prologue

Leia ran along the desolate beach, her heart pounding in her chest as her ragged breaths mixed with the howling wind. Fear coursed through her veins, each step fueled by a desperate determination to outrun the looming threat that pursued her relentlessly. The weight of her large backpack pressed heavily upon her shoulders, threatening to pull her back, but she refused to yield. Stopping was not an option, not when her freedom hung in the balance.

The storm raged around her, a tempestuous symphony of nature's fury. Dark clouds, pregnant with rain, stretched across the sky, obscuring any trace of the sun's warmth. The wind, like an invisible beast, clawed at her, tugging at her clothes and hair with an unyielding force. Raindrops fell in torrents, drenching her to the bone, as if the heavens wept for her plight. Each droplet stung against her skin, mingling with her sweat and tears, until it became impossible to distinguish the wetness of the sea from her own despair.

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead, its deep resonance vibrating through the very core of her being. It echoed her inner turmoil, a manifestation of the chaos that consumed her. Amidst the tumultuous elements, Leia's desperate flight seemed futile, an insignificant speck in the face of nature's wrath. Yet, her spirit burned with an unyielding determination, pushing her to defy the odds and fight for her life.

She was again running, running for her life. Why her life had always been a constant series of running away from pursuers – she never knew. It's like God had cursed her with some form of bad luck, and happiness was the farthest thing away from her. It was as though the only thing she was allowed to do in this life was to hide, and run, and see just how long she could escape the keen nose of her blood-thirsty hunters.

The hunters. She never did anything wrong to them – she did not even harm anyone as far as she could remember. But they wouldn't care less. To them she was a threat. And the only thing to do with threats – is to eliminate them before they became too big.

To them – eliminating her here would mean a job well done. To her – letting them get to her meant the end of her life.

But just how long could she keep running away from them? Even know, her breathing had become ragged, her chest hurt, and the torrent of rain felt like acid splashing on her face. She wanted to drop to the ground, then and there – and give up. But giving up for her meant a lifetime in locked-up facilities, never knowing if she would ever get out of there alive.

Could this have been her fate, after all – to die here in this desolate beach? Or to be locked up for the rest of her life?

She didn't dare to look back, but her intuition told her that her pursuers were closing in, their relentless determination to capture her causing panic to well up even further within her. Leia had always had an irrational fear of being locked up, of losing her freedom with no way out. And now, the looming threat of captivity pushed her to her limits. As the massive wave crashed onto the shore, drenching Leia from head to toe, she staggered, her large backpack becoming even more cumbersome and soaked. She felt a sudden wave of sickness wash over her, the weight on her shoulders feeling almost unbearable. She had never understood why being soaked always made her feel this way. But now was not the time for contemplation.

The group of men who had been relentlessly chasing Leia finally caught up, their shouts alerted Leia to just how close behind her they were.

"Halt!" a stern voice behind her barked. "Stop right there!"

Leia's breath came in ragged gasps as she risked a glance over her shoulder. Her pursuers - a group of masked men soaked to the bone like herself, closed in on her. Their figures blurred in the rain, but the glint of their raised weapons was unmistakable.

"Leave me alone!" Leia shouted, turning back to face the group of men in exasperation. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"There won't be any need for explanations," said another person – his voice had a nasty, frosty note that chilled Leia to the bone. "Just surrender yourself."

Leia's emotions swirled within her – a tempest of grief, anger, sadness, and confusion. Each conflicting feeling threatened to overwhelm her, as though mirroring the chaotic storm around her. She tried to take a step back, but as soon as she made the slightest move, she heard a reverberating sound of a shot being fired, and she was hit with a sharp, hot pain on her right shoulder. She knew right then that she had been shot – a bullet grazed her – and she fell to the ground on her knees, grunting.

"Not another move," said another one of her pursuers, calmly as though he was trying to read her a bed-time story instead of shooting bullets at her. "Next time, it won't be your shoulder, but your head instead."

Breath hitching on her throat, Leia's moves stopped abruptly. Now she silently knelt in place, her left hand pressed over the gunshot wound, her chest going up and down rapidly as anxiety consumed her. But still, she looked upward at her pursuers in a mix of rage and fear.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Leia said, tears began to sting her eyes, mixed with the rivulets of rain that streamed down her face. "I haven't harmed anyone! I would never, ever harm anyone!"

"It is not about what you've done, or haven't," the person with the chilling voice spoke again. And it is not something personal either. It is simply our job to take care of you." The way he said 'take care' was especially bone-chilling, Leia couldn't dare to think what it would mean.

"S-so you will…," Leia paused, her voice shivering – she didn't know if it was because of the chilling storm, or because she knew she was inches away from death. "You will kill me – here?"

For a moment, there was no answer – the silence was filled simply by the sound of the howling wind. Then, the man with the chilling voice spoke again.

"If that's what it takes…," he paused, as if trying to heighten Leia's tense anticipation at her demise. "Yes."

Leia wasn't sure what she did back then – perhaps she tried to run away, or ducked to the ground to evade the bullets being fired at her. She was sure she heard some shots being fired as she turned and tried to get away from the scene. Whatever it was, she remembered her intense emotion to survive – that the only thing inside her mind was to not go down without a fight.

Then, just as the situation seemed to reach its breaking point, she remembered the most mysterious thing happening. The men's shouts suddenly became distorted, as if they were suddenly transported to a great distance – she could no longer hear them clearly. Just as she tried to look back and see what happened to them, her own vision became blurred and distorted. Everything around her seemed to twist in a turn in a bizarre way. She couldn't ascertain whether it was her own senses that became altered, or if it was reality – time and space and the dimension itself – that suddenly became warped.

As if to add more to the already peculiar scene, a strange humming sound reverberated in the air, growing louder by the second, and a brilliant light began to materialize. Leia was suddenly hit by intensifying dizziness. She knew this feeling – she had experienced it when she was on the airplane ready to take off – or in amusement parks when she was on the scary rides. She knew what it meant –that her center of gravity had shifted. As if to ascertain her that she was right, Leia suddenly felt herself being lifted by an unseen force, as though being sucked into a vacuum. The world around her spun with dizzying speed, her body tossed and turned as if caught in a wild, uncontrollable slide. Seconds stretched into an eternity as Leia's consciousness teetered on the edge. Then, abruptly, everything turned black.

Funwari Island

In another place, in another universe that was far away - yet closely connected to Leia's story - two figures walked along the pristine shoreline of Funwari Island. Mabel, a young and vibrant island resident with a spirit as lively as the waves that crashed upon the beach, was enjoying her time with her faithful companion – Jasper, a mink gorilla known for his a loyal and gentle demeanor, and love for the tranquility of nature.

Funwari Island, and the whole Totto Land territory – had endured an especially long night filled with tempest. Granted, storms and extreme weathers were part of unpredictable Grand Line nature, and the residents were somehow used to it – but last night's storm was one of the worst they'd experienced this year. Fortunately, it was not a destructive storm of any sorts, but it was filled with howling winds that rattled the roofs and walls of houses, leaving the island residents unable to sleep. It had been a relentless tempest, its howling winds whipping through the island, unsettling the normally peaceful atmosphere. The air had been charged with electricity, causing a sense of unease that made many seek refuge by locking themselves indoors, their windows shuttered against the raging elements. Sleep had been elusive, replaced by the symphony of rain pelting against rooftops and the chorus of wind howling through every nook and cranny. It had been a night that tested the islanders' resilience and left them yearning for the calm that would follow the storm's departure.

And this morning, the residents were relieved to wake up to a calm, tranquil atmosphere. After the storm's fury had subsided, Funwari Island emerged in all its post-storm splendor. The golden sun peeked through the dissipating clouds, casting a warm glow upon the sand, as if nature itself was welcoming the return of peace. The beach stretched out endlessly, adorned with glistening grains of sand that shimmered like scattered pearls in the sunlight. The gentle waves lapped against the shore with a rhythmic melody, harmonizing with the whispers of the breeze that carried the scent of saltwater and blooming flowers. Seagulls soared gracefully in the sky, their calls filling the air with a sense of freedom and serenity. The palm trees swayed gently, their fronds whispering secrets to the wind. There were no traces of storm that passed through the island last night, it was almost as though the tempest that howled with all its might last night was nothing more than a passing bad dream. The aftermath of the tempest had left behind a sense of ethereal beauty, transforming the island into a sanctuary of tranquility and solace.

"I can't wait for the party, Jasper!" said Mabel as she strolled along the shoreline alongside her best friend. The sand beneath their feet felt soft and cool, a welcome respite after the storm's fury. "It's going to be so much fun!" she giggled, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she eagerly shared her plans for a forthcoming get-together party on the island. Beside her, Jasper furrowed his brows slightly and grumbled – her expression a total contrast from Mabel's. "I don't know, Mabel…," he sighed, then paused slightly. "I mean… you know how I feel about crowded places. I'd rather avoid them if I can…" It seemed clear that Jasper didn't share the same enthusiasm as Mabel concerning the upcoming get-together party plan. He kicked the sand and walked silently beside his friend, inwardly dreading the possibility of having to attend social gatherings.

Giggling rather mischievously at her friend's answer, Mabel playfully nudged Jasper's side, her eyes still bore the same sparkle of excitement. "Come on, Jasper," Mabel urged, her voice laced with a playful persuasion. "It won't be that bad! Just imagine the vibrant mood, the joyful chatter, and the treats! The mouth-watering aromas of delicious treats! Cupcakes and Chiffon! Puddings and Bruleé! I mean, when else can we find such delicious treats in one place – not to mention it will be free to eat everything!"

Jasper smiled at her best friend's argument, "Now now, I would think you are more interested in the food rather than the gatherings itself."

"Well," Mabel continued, "Of course I am interested in the gathering too! I mean.. It's a chance for everyone to come together, share stories, and the warmth of friendship! And some people will be coming from very far away you know… we will finally be able to see them! Just imagine, I haven't seen some of them in maybe a year or more!"

Jasper let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting toward the undisturbed tranquility of nature that surrounded them. His gorilla-like features reflected a sense of contemplation, the wisdom of a creature who found solace in the quietude of the wild. With a tinge of reluctance, he finally responded, his voice carrying a hint of longing for serenity.

"You're right," Jasper finally relented, his words laden with a gentle resignation. "But, you know me, Mabel. You know how I prefer the embrace of nature's silence, where the rustling leaves and the whispering streams create a symphony that soothes my soul... Noisy gatherings, loud music, and bustling crowds have never been my cup of tea."

They continued strolling along the shoreline, their footprints traced a temporary path in the damp sand, quickly swallowed by the encroaching tide. Mabel's steps were light and buoyan, her vibrant energy contrasting with the serene backdrop of the island. She occasionally twirled on her toes, as if dancing to a silent melody that only she could hear, the sheer joy of anticipation radiating from her every movement.

Jasper, on the other hand, maintained a leisurely pace, his large gorilla form exuding an aura of calm strength. His keen eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the swaying palm trees, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. He paused every now and then to inhale deeply, as if savoring the scent of the salty sea air and the delicate fragrance of tropical blooms. It was such a tranquil, ordinary moments for both of them – and little did they know that their path would soon intersect with that of a mysterious stranger, setting in motion a chain of events that would shape their destinies in ways they couldn't yet fathom.

Suddenly, their footsteps halted as Mabel's keen eyes, bright with curiosity, locked onto something unusual further down the beach. A gasp escaped her lips, her heart quickening with intrigue and concern. Without a second thought, she surged forward, her slender legs propelling her, and she started running toward an unknown something.

"Mabel, wait!" confused at her friend's sudden action, Jasper followed suit behind her. "Mabel!" Jasper called her again with an increasing sense of urgency as Mabel did not answer his call. "What's the matter?"

"There is – someone – laying – on the sand – up ahead," said Mabel, trying to answer Jasper's question while running, her breaths panting. "They seemed unconscious! They might be hurt!"

Understanding passed through Jasper's face. He quickened his pace to catch up with his adventurous friend, his large frame moving with an unexpected grace. Mabel reached the unknown figure first. With a mixture of concern and determination, Mabel knelt down on the side of the prone figure, her movements gentle as she extended a hand to assess their condition. Her fingers trembled slightly, a reflection of the emotions that surged within her—a blend of empathy, curiosity, and a deep-rooted desire to help.

That unknown figure was in fact – as strange as it might seem – Leia. She had been transported here from her own world when the strange portal opened during her attempt to flee from her pursuers, throwing her straight to Funwari Island in the midst of the raging storm last night.

"Jasper, look!" Mabel's voice quivered with a mixture of worry and urgency as she looked up from the unconscious figure to her friend's face – who had caught up to her and was now standing beside her. Mabel's eyes were fixed on the injured stranger before her, their brow furrowed with concern. "It's a young girl. She looks hurt… We can't just leave her here."

Jasper assessed the unconscious girl cautiously, his presence a silent reassurance to Mabel. He crouched down beside his friend, carefully looking at the girl's features from top to bottom. She looked strange, even her clothings were unusual. It was easy to tell that she was not a resident of Totto Land.

"Haven't seen her here before… she must not be from around here," Jasper murmured, his brows knitted together in a display of protective concern, his eyes flickering with a mix of wariness and compassion.

"Oh, can't we do something for her?" asked Mabel again, with increasing urgency this time. "Let's take her to my house and nurse her back to health!"

"Mabel, I know you are worried, but we must proceed with caution," Jasper warned, his voice a steady murmur. "I mean… we don't know who she is or what she might be capable of. She might even be a Devil Fruit user, or an enemy pirate crew. We can't just… randomly take her in."

Mabel bit her lips. She knew that her friend was correct, yet her strong sense of empathy prevented her from leaving a tattered, exhausted Leia back on the sands where she found her. After a few moments of contemplation, Mabel drew in a deep breath and mustered her courage – her gaze shifting from the stranger to Jasper and back again. Resolute, she finally made a decision.

"We can't leave them here, Jasper," she declared, her voice laced with unwavering determination. "We need to get them help. It's the right thing to do."

Jasper nodded, his features softening. "You're right," he acknowledged, his voice carrying a mixture of reluctance and understanding. "We should take them to the town's doctor. They'll know what to do."

Grateful for his support, Mabel smiled at her loyal friend. "Thank you, Jasper. Let's get them back to town quickly."

With Jasper's strong arms cradling Leia's fragile form, they began their journey back, their words temporarily suspended as they focused on the task at hand. The weight of their unexpected encounter and the mysteries surrounding the unconscious stranger hung in the air, leaving them with a mix of apprehension and curiosity about the events that were about to unfold.

Please leave a review! Your reviews are my mojo!

[babydxhl]

13 for whichever muse it fits best for!

send numbers for spotify wrapped starters, or 🎁 for random. | still accepting.

She had posted bail in the early hours of the morning, and as she sat now with Quinn in the back seat of the car — precinct building looming overhead, street lamps still lit — the world had just turned the hazy blue that marked the slim fragment of day before the sun cracked the horizon.

Mary felt tired, and faintly numb. The night before she had been drinking, the taste clinging to the back of her throat. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, hard enough that a burst of bright colours spread across the inside of her eyelids; the effect, her back hunched, fingertips splayed across the curve of her brow, was somehow despairing.

On the way out there had been a photographer. The black lens had caught a white-ring glint of streetlight and sparked into her vision, and Mary had instinctively sped up, her grip on Quinn's wrist sharp enough to smear red beneath her nails.

"I'll give you anything," she said suddenly now, a strange calmness in her tone. Almost business-like. There had been a long silence before then. "If you leave the city. I'll pay tuition if you want to go to school, I'll get you a job. If you want to live in some shithole and paint bad art, Christ, I'll pay your rent for the next twenty years." She looked up — her hands twitched, as if she might seize Quinn's own hands, seize the hem of her clothes, plaintive and desperate. She didn't. "I just can't watch it all happen again."

half blind - ye vagabonds

[solarisrasa]

All I Could Bring Myself to Want is You pt 1

Maryse Lightwood never made it to Magnus' door. A different series of events see Magnus sealing the rift without anyone knowing it was him and spending a long year in Edom instead. He returns to find the Shadow World of New York functioning in surprising harmony under the New York Institute and its head, Isabelle Lightwood. 

AKA The Malec fic that grabbed me by the throat and dragged me into writing for this fandom in the first place.

Warnings for Angst, rune abuse, parental death, and general emotional unwellness

Also Magnus is mention, briefly, being with a shadowhunter who is not Alec.

Find it Here on A03

Magnus heaved in a breath, staring up at the rift that roiled under his magic in the red sky. He could feel the pull on his magic but with the pulse of Edom under him now, he knew he could feed it indefinitely. Once, the feeling of power coursing through him might have brought him some modicum of joy or fascination, but now it was just another layer for him to work through.

He strode purposefully toward his father’s- his-castle. What he would do when he got there was beyond him but moving forward helped keep the past day from overwhelming him. The acrid taste of sorrow clung in his throat still, the echo of his father’s demands and cutting words.

  I’ll never leave you, not like that Nephilim with his worthless affection. He was a fool to walk away from someone as strong as you. We can deal with him and then, my son, we can return to gain power from Edom.

Magnus hadn’t wanted that. He was hurt, but there was still something under it all that felt wrong. Alexander had felt wrong. More though, his father’s reminder he would never leave, the pressing knowledge that no matter how many times he banished him Asmodeus would never let him go. He’d swallowed that realization and used it to fuel him through casting his father into Limbo.

It shouldn’t have hurt him the way it did. He was too aware that he was about to have a great deal of time to consider his many hurts. The castle loomed over him and he sighed heavily as he entered, not exploring yet, simply drifting to the chair he’d last seen his father in.

He fell into it without his usual grace and blinked hard. His magic buzzed under his skin, comforting and yet…

  Alexander.

Magnus hoped he was safe. He remembered the cold fear when he followed the pull of Edom’s power and it carried him to the shore of Lake Lyn. His hands shook and he’d cried aloud when he’d realized the awful tear in the sky above was unleashing hell, literally, on the Glass City. The darkened demon towers and the distant sounds of battle told him enough. He knew that the Lightwoods would be there, probably Biscuit too. He’d stood frozen, torn between portalling to assist them and…

Well, he’d made his choice. He could feel the weight of it in the eb and flow around him, in the crackling overhead as demons tested the edges of the bandaged rift.

“Now I just have to...live with it.” He said to the empty room. He wondered if he could.

-

  “I need a...break.”

  “...that spark….gone.”

  “I can’t.”

-

He should burn those memories now. Magnus couldn’t bring himself to try. The memories, no matter how they tormented him, were the closest comfort he could have here.

Magnus lost track of time, the endless red light and his own churning mind keeping him still in his seat, despair pressing breath from his lungs. No one around to perform for, to pull himself together and help. Just himself and thousands of demons swirling in the air that would happily let him destroy himself.

-

  “I’ve never felt fear like that…”

  “What are you scared of?”

  “I can’t live without you.”

  “I need a break...from us.”

  “I can’t.”

-

The repeat of his heartbreak is disrupted, finally, by Lilith. He vaguely remembered her coming once before, cajoling a way through the rift. He thought he blasted her away. He hardly knew.

This time she had power cloaking her, she’d come to make a demand of him.

“Mr. Bane. I trust you’ve had some time to reconsider?”

“There’s nothing for me to reconsider. Your word means nothing to me and I can not trust you to leave the people I care for out of whatever chaos you mean to create.”

Lilith’s smile was nothing short of vicious, “I had hoped you would be a more...intelligent ruler than your father.” She walked slowly around his chair, “I must admit that I am somewhat glad,” her voice rose into a growl, “that you  aren’t.”

She threw her power at him and he met it in a red haze as he stood. It had occurred to him that it would be easy enough to let her do it, let her end Magnus Bane right here. Overhead his reason for living glowed a more vibrant blue as a demon burned itself out against his magic.

Lilith broke off, stumbling away. Magnus allowed it, watching her with flames curling around his wrists.

“Mr. Bane, you’ve already said you don’t trust my word, but trust my nature. I can take your revenge. I can find those who discarded you when you were at your lowest. After all Alec Lightwood saw fit to cast you aside, he left you to stumble and fail without anything to rely on and without a home. Let me through and I will take care of him, if you want I will send him here, to you. Without your magic, your usefulness, he and his kind let you sacrifice everything and in all this time haven’t even tried to find you.” Her eyes flared black as she spoke and the tang of her hateful magic tinged the air.

For a moment Magnus could see what she painted, Alexander on his knees here, his hazel eyes wide even as Magnus’ own magic wound tight around him. He would know the pain that had lived and thrived in Magnus’ chest, he would-

“No.”

Magnus couldn’t stomach the images Lilith spun for him. He had only seen fear, real fear, in Alexander’s eyes a handful of times and never of him, even trying to picture it was  wrong.  

“They must’ve been glad when you vanished with the rift. Shadowhunters, no matter what they tell you, are never going to be able to really love  us. Not demon’s, not demon blooded, not anyone or anything that doesn’t have holier-than-thou blood. They cannot love that.” Lilith’s tone was sympathetic, her features pulled into an imitation of kindness.

  “I’ve never felt fear like that...Magnus...I love you.”

“What would you know? You don’t understand love. If you did, you’d understand your mistake.”

His voice was even but the roar of his magic in his blood rose as she let the façade go, sneering at him.

“You’re too weak to control this plane. Too weak to stop me!”

She had no chance as the flurry of his anger and his aching heart consumed her, even as she moved to attack him. Her screams shredded the air as her human appearance failed and he watched a screaming monster burn into ash.

As the last of her vanished he fell again into the seat he’d been occupying in his time here. A new force pressed in on him and he groaned until it slotted in place with a feeling like ears popping after a sudden change.

Lilith’s power melded with his own and the remnants of his father that Edom had given him and he cried out. He stared at his hands as magic bleed from them, swirling through the room and searing the books that were strewn about.

It was painful, a raw roar of strength and birthright that flooded him and then it just...was.

The light of the rift drew his attention and he realized it would be so easy to permanently seal now. He could leave. He could see New York again.

-

Magnus stepped onto the sidewalk a few blocks from the Hunter’s Moon and took a sharp breath. New York.

He rolled his shoulders and followed the new awareness of Edomai, he would deal with the demons from his realm first and then, then he would see what was left of his life. If there was anything more than the ashes of what was  almost  something amazing.

The feeling pulled him into a dark corner several streets over. Magnus turned a corner, ready to attack and found a small group already fighting. Three Shadowhunters, their faces half-familiar, and two Downworlders were working in tandem to beat back the Edomai that had drawn Magnus. He watched the five of them, realizing they didn’t need his help to finish this.

When the last demon was put down, run through by a Shadowhunter but held in the iron grip of a vampire, Magnus made his presence known.

“Well, you all seem very...capable.”

One of the Shadowhunters raised his blade but the woman vampire stopped him, “Magnus Bane. You’ve returned.”

Magnus laughed bitterly, “Surprise, surprise. I made it out of Edom. Things seem cozier than when I left.”

She looked shocked and the tallest of the Shadowhunters spoke up, “Edom? We were told that you were...technically on some kind of sabbatical.”

Magnus took that in. He refused to believe that no one had looked hard enough to realize he wasn’t on this plane. Not Alexander maybe, but Catarina at least. Well, if he’d been gone long enough.

“Well, I’m looking forward to learning what the Clave’s explanation of the rift to Edom closing is then. I assure you it was no vacation and I am glad to have washed my hands of it. How long have I been...gone?”

The vampire answered, “It’s been almost a year Magnus. The Clave has no idea what happened with the rift, they’ve been looking for answers, they’re terrified it was only a temporary solution.”

“A year? Ugh, that explains why the air here almost smells  good. I cannot wait until I can get a decent cocktail. Now, tell me, why do Downworlder’s know Clave business? What brought you all together?” He swept a hand out, indicating the Shadowhunters, vampire, and what he was realizing was a Seelie.

“I can imagine. The head of the New York institute continued her brother’s directives and the Downworld council elected to test groups of Downworlder and Shadowhunter working together. It’s been a few months but it's working.”    

Magnus couldn’t breath.

  Continued her brother’s directives

“What happened to Alexander Lightwood?” The words left him without permission and he couldn’t hide the rawness of his need to know.

The taller Shadowhunter stepped closed, hands up, “He’s fine. He stepped down when it became clear that no one in the Downworld was willing to work directly with him.”

That...didn’t make any sense. Alexander had been well respected among the leaders of the Downworld, even without Magnus’ blinding bias he’d been an amazing leader, one that could bring them together.  

“What-”

“Mr.Bane...I’m sorry, but we’re still on patrol.” The seelie broke in, holding up an Institute issued phone that was flashing a familiar symbol. They were needed elsewhere.

“Right. Thank you for answering my questions. May the angel guide your blades.” He tipped his head with an attempt at his usual flair as he turned away from them.

He didn’t know where he was going for a moment, torn between heading straight to the Institute to find out what the hell was going on and taking time for himself. He thought about seeing anyone he knew and his stomach clenched.

“Home.” He told himself, nodding sharply and turning so his feet were pointed toward the loft. He took a step and a memory just before he banished his father surfaced.

“Oh.  Lilith . Lorenzo!” He opened a portal and rushed through.

His loft door looked the same and he ran a hand through his wards. The only traces were old, a few clients that had tried to come by months ago, relievingly Lorenzo’s magic leaving intact, and-

  Alexander.

He could feel Alexander had been here, not recently but after Magnus had disappeared. He’d been here both before Lorenzo had gone and again after. Magnus curled his hand into a fist, what had brought the man here? Had he needed a warlock for something and gone looking for Lorenzo or had he meant to see Magnus?

He banished the thought and pushed his doors open. A layer of dust was present and he frowned, that simply wouldn’t do. He might be morose and out of sorts, but he refused to allow his home to reflect that. He pushed his sleeves back, thank fuck he had access to his own closet again, and got to work.

-

Catarina was being annoying. Magnus told himself she was because he refused to examine the reason for her behavior any further than that.

She walked another slow circle around him, “You look...better than I expected.”

The pull of her mouth told him she was  very unhappy with him but the sadness in her eyes told him it wasn’t anger. Oh, it probably had been but the longer he’d been gone the faster it had faded. For an immortal a year was nothing but living it still felt like  something.

“Thank you?”

The concern spiked as she stopped moving and gently touched his arm. He forced himself not to react. He was never so uncertain in his own skin.

“Magnus. You disappeared on all of us, right after Alec,” He doesn’t flinch, he  doesn’t, “ ended things. No one knew what happened. Lorenzo, Dot, and I thought it would be kindest to spread the rumor you’d taken a holiday of sorts but Magnus, we were afraid.”

He swallowed hard, “Of what?”

Cat blinked away the moisture that was gathering, “I remember how bad it was, after Camille and Alec was, he was, so much  more. When I found out what he’d done I searched for you for days and when I couldn’t find anything...Lorenzo couldn’t tell me anything except that you’d banished your father and your magic was back. We tried everything to track you. There was no trace. Magnus, you  bastard,”  there it was, the anger he deserved, “I thought you’d left me! I thought you found another bridge and no one was there to stop you.  I wasn’t there.”

Magnus reached for her then, pulled her into his arms and held her hard.

“I’m so sorry Cat. There wasn’t time to tell anyone. After I dealt with my father the power I gained drew me to Lake Lynn and there was-”

Cat leaned away enough to look him in the eye, “The rift.”

“Yes. I had to stop it, I couldn’t let the edomai destroy everything.”

Cat’s lips pulled into a gentle smile, “You wouldn’t be you if you could. You saved  everything Magnus. I wish you’d let someone help, but you did it.”

“I even got to come back.” He tried for something lighter, a little more him.

A sharp pain in his side made him yelp and let her go with a glare. Catarina wiggled her fingers at him, “I know you didn’t think you would and I will eventually figure out how to articulate exactly how frustrated I am with you for the way you handled this but...I am proud to call you my friend Magnus Bane. You pain in the ass.”

Magnus laughs and it feels  good.

He turns to his long untouched drink cart, “Care for a cocktail? I’ve been thirsty for  so long.”

Catarina snorted, “Yeah. I doubt Edom had your favorite label…”

Her tone shifts to contemplative and Magnus makes a little more noise than is really needed as he mixes them cosmo’s. She’s leading into asking what he did there and he doesn’t know how to say “sat and wallowed and thought about dying” without sounding, well, pathetic.

He turns and hands her a drink, sipping his own with a pleased hum and sigh.

“So-”

Magnus refuses to let her ask the questions he’s afraid she will so he cuts her off with the first question that comes to him.

“Why is Isabelle the head of the Institute?”

Cat frowns over the rim of her glass, she knows what he’s doing but he can also see that she’s going to let him. Gratitude rushes him as she takes her time to answer.

“You’d been gone maybe two days when Alec called me. He was...rough after everything that happened in Alicante and I thought you were with him. He asked me to come to the loft, saying that there was a gecko among your things. Of course, I showed but he stayed long enough to tell me he didn’t know where you were and when I pushed he admitted what he’d done. It was not my finest moment.”

She takes a long drink and there’s guilt in her eyes that makes Magnus’ throat tighten.

“I was angry with him. He was worn but he seemed so distant from it, like he wasn’t telling me he broke my best friend’s heart. I wanted to see him hurt so I marked him.”

Magnus frowned. Warlocks had many spells for marking, some were kind, some were happy little marks only other Warlocks would know that signified friendships or similar things. To mark someone other than a Warlock was rarely done.

“I slapped the  betrayer mark over his heart.”  Catarina closes her eyes in shame.

Magnus sets his drink on the end table, his hands are shaking again.

“That’s why he stepped down, I think. Word spread fast that he’d left you and the magic in the mark was easy to see. Downworlder’s wanted the promise he offered and Isabelle was in a better position to deliver it. I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s what you would’ve wanted but he ran after and when I attempted to reach him to remove it, he sent a refusal. I didn’t try to force it, I was trying to find you and that was-”

“I would like to be alone now.”

Cat startled.

“Magnus-”

“Leave.”

He snapped the glass out her hand and summoned a portal for her, refusing to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft but she went and he closed the portal behind her.

  Betrayer.

Catarina was the only one who could remove the mark and that Alexander had refused to let her was...complicated. The little bit of cheer he’d managed to recoup slipped away as he thought about the consequences of her actions against Alexander.

He didn’t want to care but as many times as it had been suggested that he wanted to hurt Alexander or that he wanted some sort of revenge on him, he still wanted Alexander safe. Well, mostly he just wanted him back, but he’d take what he could get.

There’s a terrible burning feeling in his tight chest and his skin feels like it’s only barely containing the turmoil inside of him. His magic, so much stronger now, skitters over him. He twists his wrist and pulls the balcony doors open, pushing the excess power out of him before it can explode on its own. It streaks into the sky, violent and red.

The tears are coming again and he wipes at them in frustration, he’s so  tired of this feeling. It’s like he’s breathing through sand, grating with every attempt, and like he wants to claw himself open to expel the hurt and the sticky black rage.

He picks up his cosmo, downs it, and refills the glass

If this is what it means to have opened his heart again, he’s going to pour concrete over the damn thing and be done with it.

  Maybe Camille had a point.

  -

He waited a full day more before throwing himself into something that might help numb him.

  Pandemonium.

His trusty place for finding distraction and dalliances. He pulled out all the stops, colors shifting in his hair, glitter across his cheeks and collar bones, his shirt only a shirt in the loosest sense of the word. He had to use magic to put his pants on. They were that fitted and he used a touch of pheromone potion behind his ears.

He didn’t look at himself in the mirror before he left and he pushed past the feeling that made his stomach flip.

The bouncer raised a brow at him but let him past as usual and Magnus made for the section that had always been reserved for him. It still was and he mentally noted the need to thank Raph-.

He came up short just before the circle of seats. Raphael was a mundane now and the job of managing the club in Magnus’ absence had fully been picked up by Sol, a seelie that had worked there for years.

Magnus shook the melancholy away. This was about re-learning how not to feel and ruminating on the new mortality of his pseudo-son was not the way to do it.

He draped himself out on the couch, summoned a drink, and watched the room. There were a lot of dancers tonight, beautiful bodies moving together, mundane and otherwise. His gaze trailed over soft skin shining with sweat and he wondered what he should aim for.

Runes, not as stark as they would be on pale skin, caught his attention. Shadowhunter.

He sat up sharply, a metallic tang in his throat as he watched the young woman closely. She wasn’t familiar at all and her tanned skin spoke of more sun than a New York Shadowhunter typically saw.

She also was not on a mission if the drink he watched her down as she laughed with a small group was any indication.

He shouldn’t.

It was asking for pain and it was likely Alexander might learn of it. Magnus should look away from the pretty girl who was too close to the man his heart yearned for.

He finished his drink and stood. The things he should do falling away as she turned further and a deflect rune high on her shoulder drew his eye.

What better way to get over one Shadowhunter than with another?

He went to her, knowing exactly how much like sex and danger he appeared. Her eyes went wide and then hooded as she smiled at him.

“Well. You’re certainly new.”

“Oh, gorgeous I’m certainly not.”

Magnus held his hand out to her with a wicked smile and she took it with a grin.

part two

[borrowedtimeandspace]

Flashback

AU: Time After Time (Twelve AU)

Note: Bit of an art block, so here's a fun meeting I've been looking forward to <3

~~~

Damp was the day it all changed for Zepheera.

Twice, she had attempted to reconnect with the Doctor after being sent back in time by that damned statue. It had touched her three times in all, gorging itself on the potential energy of an unaging woman who only wanted to reunite with her best friend.

She was starting to lose track of how long it had been since she'd seen him. The more the numbers added up, the more tempting it was to give in to despair. 

Not to mention the physical fatigue. It took Zepheera quite a long time to go anywhere, being four and a half inches in height. Even journeys across the street were arduous. And each time the angel touched her, it not only sent her back in time, but a completely different place on Earth. Getting back to London, and at times Great Britain, was nothing short of an ordeal for Zepheera.

Still, after what she'd experienced with the Doctor, she was no stranger to traveling. Other borrowers were usually content to stay where they were, but Zepheera found any way she could to cross great distances, and managed to stay unnoticed every time. 

Getting around the world was one thing. Occupying her time while she waited to catch up to her Doctor was another. Eighty years was a long time to stay in one place and wait, and after spending time in the TARDIS, that was one thing Zepheera doubted she could ever do again.

That was what brought her to Liverpool in the late 1950’s. Now that she'd lived through most of the 20th century a few times because of the whole Weeping Angel business, Beatlemania had come onto her radar multiple times. Borrowers didn't often concern themselves with whatever humans were interested in, but certain sensations were simply hard to miss when living alongside humans. Zepheera gathered by osmosis that it was all set to start right around that area, sometime very soon.

It gave her something to look forward to, at least. If it was to be the long and winding road, then she might as well make the most of it.

The morning had been rainy, so everything was still quite waterlogged when Zepheera went to pick at the rubbish in an alleyway for supplies. She was contemplating whether to give up on the spot and find a way inside when…

There was no noise, but Zepheera could feel it. Her scalp tickled and something rippled along her bare arms as her hair all stood on end. An energy hanging more thickly than the humidity in the air. For half a second, it intensified, and Zepheera found that she recognized the feeling.

It was barely enough warning for her to make a break for cover when a sourceless shadow appeared out of nowhere, followed quickly by its source.

Two massive shoes crashed into the pavement mere feet behind Zepheera, the impact of the weight they carried nearly throwing her off-balance. She flattened herself against the side of a garbage can and glanced back to watch those same shoes stumble, disoriented. As a larger shadow fell over Zepheera, she looked up to take in the entire human that had appeared.

High overhead, hands nearly twice as long as Zepheera was tall pressed against the brick wall. The looming figure slumped with a miserable groan causing their long wool coat to sway and allowing Zepheera a distant glimpse of their face. It was a man, she observed; tanned and brunet, with a dizzy expression contorting his conventionally attractive features. Then it all angled away from her as the man cursed under his breath, then shifted to lean his back against the wall, sliding down to a seat.

All this with Zepheera standing not two feet away.

She could get under proper cover quite easily. The man hadn't noticed her, and was too caught up in recovery to do so anytime soon. Something kept her rooted in her spot, though, and it dawned on her that it was because this was all too familiar.

Time travel without a capsule. And not by choice, it would seem.

Zepheera took a deep, steadying breath, peeled herself away from the rubbish, and marched to a spot in the man's peripheral vision. Before she could think better of it, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called up, “Just breathe, and try not to move too much!”

Blue eyes shot open from their pained grimace and glanced around, eventually dropping down to the tiny woman on the wet pavement. Zepheera felt her insides squirm as the weight of allowing herself to be seen by someone for the first time in over a hundred years hit her all at once.

How the hell was this so easy before?

The man looked at her, more puzzled by her appearance than shocked. Zepheera thought she noticed a sort of recognition in his eyes, though he didn't seem to know her specifically. She certainly didn't know him at all.

He then attempted to smile at Zepheera, though it came across as more of a wince, and replied, “Thanks, sweetheart, but this isn't my first rodeo.”

Eight little words baffled Zepheera so thoroughly that she wasn’t sure what to question first. The least of her concerns was his American accent; she knew all too well that the Weeping Angels had more than enough power to displace one in space as well as time. Then there was the matter of how unbothered he was by meeting someone less than a foot tall, and treating them so casually right from the off. As though it were perfectly normal to have a conversation such as this.

The words themselves had just begun to sink in amidst all the rest when a massive hand landed on the pavement. Zepheera gave a small jolt as her thoughts were interrupted by the tremor she felt in her boots from the simple movement. More reverberations followed as the man shifted in his seat, straightening his posture to finally look around and get his bearings. 

“Alright, where am I now…?” he muttered.

Though the question didn’t seem directed towards her, Zepheera answered him anyway. “This is Liverpool. Nineteen fifty-nine, nearly sixty”

“Oh good, just in time for the Beatles. Again.” With his dry quip out of the way, the man turned to regard Zepheera once more with an arched eyebrow. “How’d you know to tell me the year?”

“It’s not my first rodeo, either,” she said honestly.

A fascinated grin spread across his fair features as he looked Zepheera up and down in a new light. “Well, then… Sounds like we’d make good company.” 

He shot one more cautious glance around before maneuvering his feet under himself. He dug through the pockets of his long coat, producing a handkerchief that he used to clean the dampness off of his palms. Once they were dry enough, he bunched the fabric in one hand and lowered the other to lay upturned near the borrower. 

“Captain Jack Harkness. Pleasure to meet you, little lady. Care to exchange stories someplace a bit drier?”

Zepheera hesitated only briefly before climbing onto the strange man’s hand. Her chest fluttered with a new feeling; she couldn’t decide if it was the natural anxiety of entrusting her life to someone completely unknown, or the thrill of finding someone in a similar predicament to herself.

And there was something else. Captain Jack Harkness… Why did that name sound familiar?

“Zepheera,” she introduced herself in turn. “Charmed, I'm sure.”

[the-letter-horror-lover]

At The End

Phoenix_of_Athena

Summary:

Ciel knows. He has always known that he made a mad, desperate choice. He has always known that Sebastian is far from the face of perfection that he shows to the world. Ciel just chooses not to think about it.

Notes:

Kuroshitsuji. Manga-verse. Horror/Angst. Timeline? Sometime early on, before Ciel becomes irredeemable. Before the turning point.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

"When you receive your crown decorated in despair your soul will surely be extremely delicious."-Sebastian

"…Your feet are steadily sinking into the bog. Even if you're dragged forcefully into unfamiliar territory, you never show your unsightly form which is screaming for help." –Lau

Ciel was finally, blissfully, alone. The night wind tore at his clothes and whipped the ties of his eye patch against his neck and cheek, but he welcomed it. It no longer mattered to him that he could not feel is toes in his boots, or his fingers or nose. All that he cared about was getting away…because…Ciel had dreamed earlier that night.

He had been, briefly, back behind rusted metal bars: reaching, screaming out to faceless monsters which would not look at him. But then—then—Sebastian had arrived, and Ciel hadn't even cared anymore. He would have done anything, given anything to get out. And Sebastian had descended, and wrapped him up in a warm something—a cloak? A blanket? A towel, like after a bath?—and whisked him away.

And abruptly he was in his own home, in his own bed, and Ciel had let go of the tension that held his heart in a vice. He was safe now, after all, with his ever-faithful protector. His guard dog. And Ciel had snuggled down into his coverlet and looked up at the butler who stood stoically beside the bed.

"Sebastian," he had said in a distant sort of dream voice, "I want you to know… that I would be lost without you. I want to thank you; you don't know how much—how much you being here means to me…."

He allowed himself trail off, for Sebastian's expression hadn't changed and his eyes were empty as he looked at Ciel.

"No need to thank me, young master," the butler had replied all the same in his usual smooth manner; and suddenly Sebastian was looming overhead, filling the entire range of Ciel's vision.

"I was only looking after my own interests," he said blandly, eyes flashing crimson, "A soul so innately pure is quite a prize, after all, and even better once corrupted. I even made it into a game. Tainting something so good."

Sebastian's dispassionate eyes bored into him.

"I shall enjoy this meal, I think." And without another word he moved, and Ciel was suddenly pinned down, his duvet vanished. And the butler was no longer a butler, but a demon: eyes slit, fangs glistening, and long claws digging into Ciel's forearms.

"Se-Sebastian!?" the boy exclaimed, "What are you doing? I order you to stop!"

But Sebastian did not seem to hear him, and merely raised a hand to cup the Earl's face, as he had just before Ciel had received the contract seal.

"Such a delicious looking soul," Sebastian murmured.

And Ciel didn't understand what was happening; what had happened to his butler? What had changed? The contract wasn't complete!

"Stop!" he cried, "The contract isn't complete! You're my butler, I order you—"

And finally Sebastian's expression changed, a soft smile adorning his lips.

"Oh, young master," he said, his hand slipping from Ciel's cheek, claws skimming down his throat and to the neck of his nightshirt, "did you truly think that I was yours? That our relationship was anything but a lie? You know the truth; you have from the start. I am a demon. And I am here to eat you." The demon's hand flicked and dark claws pierced fabric and flesh in one deft movement. Ciel gasped as Sebastian sliced slowly, gently down his chest and to his stomach, blood immediately budding forth from the razor-thin line and seeping into the fringes of his nightshirt.

Then Sebastian carefully slipped his fingers into the cut and tore, widening the gash as Ciel went fully stiff beneath his hands, unable to breathe. With a chuckle, Sebastian then reached fully in and easily broke off a rib with a crack, withdrawing the bone and carelessly placing it aside.

"Humans really are too fragile," the demon tsk-ed, "so easily damaged by injury or illness…So utterly annoying to look after. But," he mused, snapping out another rib, "their pitiful lives are but a means to an end, and end product is quite worth it. Such odd and entertaining creatures."

Sebastian paused in his motions, frowning down at Ciel, who was sinking—drowning—in waves of aching, blinding pain and who was only vaguely able to listen to his words. Then the demon leaned forward, and scooped out his heart, still attached and still beating. It was only a moment later when Ciel seemed to slip back into awareness, drawn forward by the strangest sensation…of Sebastian's teeth raking lightly against his heart.

Unable to speak, the boy could only watch as the demon slipped the fragile muscle into his mouth and held it there, gently, his eyes now locked onto Ciel's.

Ciel saw nothing there but amusement.

And then teeth sliced.

And Ciel woke up.

Upon waking, the young earl lay frozen, blood pounding into his ears and rapid breaths rasping through his throat.

"Young master?"

Ciel flinched violently, his eyes flying open to stare at the demon at his bedside.

"Young master, have you had a nightmare?" Sebastian murmured, leaning forwards with brows furrowed in a pretense of concern.

Ciel gazed unblinking into the butler's eyes, searching, and when the boy didn't respond, his dark guardian tried again:

"Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water? Or warm milk?"

Forcing his muscles to relax, Ciel said in an attempt at a casual tone, "No. That won't be necessary. Just go, and leave me alone for the rest of the night."

The demon murmured an obligatory "yes my lord" and turned to go. But when he was almost at the door, Ciel added:

"That's an order."

Because amusement was still all he saw in those eyes.

Sebastian stiffened for barely a split second before leaving, and once the door was shut fully behind him, Ciel pushed himself out of bed and into motion, dropping his calm façade. He scurried about the room, pulling on mismatched clothing before slamming open the bedroom door and running. He ran all the way to the front door of the townhouse and out into the street before he came to a stop, the cold air scraping at his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. Then, shuddering, he began to walk.

Ciel didn't have a destination, and he didn't particularly care about his health. All he knew was that he needed to get away before he went mad. Or rather, as he sometimes thought, more mad. Truly, he wondered if his parents would recognize him, should he stand before them as he was; the Ciel that they knew was dead, and in his place walked a bitter, broken shell of a boy who made a terrible mistake in terrible circumstances.

I should have died, he thought. It would have been better, but he had been too afraid. He still was. And he hadn't been thinking about anything save for his own desperation, and fear, and hate. He certainly hadn't been thinking of the consequences.

You have to live with the choices you make. And I'm going to be eaten by a demon.

Still, Ciel had chosen his path, and he would follow through. There were no other options; no other possible outcomes; he would die—be eaten—no matter what he did now, so he would follow through on his revenge unflinchingly. He had taken such pride in that determination, but all it really was, was cowardice. Ciel just hadn't wanted to face his own weakness. The fact was, he was stuck here: no matter what he would have to do to get there, no matter how he might change along the way, he was committed. And though he might pretend otherwise, he knew the truth beyond the constant act. He knew what Sebastian was, and what the end of the story would be. Ciel just preferred not to think about it.

Notes:

Because let's face it. Sebastian thinks of Ciel as means for a meal and some entertainment in the meantime. And as much as I liked Ciel in the beginning of the manga, he's just gonna keep becoming darker and darker as the story goes on, and he's going to die in the end. He's doomed. I just hope that Sebastian ends up dying as well. He's seriously my least favorite character in anything ever.

Ah, as far as Ciel's actions in the dream sequence go, well, it is a dream so naturally he'd say and do things that he never would in real life. And as for how he feels towards Sebastian? Well, distrustful, obviously, even though conversely he trusts him more than anyone. Hatred and fear, to some extent, I'm sure. But also fondness, because that's just human nature. When you're around someone enough, you kinda start to like them. Even if you didn't to start out feeling that way, you can develop sort of a fond disliking of them rather than just disliking them. Ever heard of Stockholm syndrome? Yeah. Plus, he's a kid. And Sebastian has ended stepping up as sort of a father figure. Ciel can't help but care about him, and want to be cared for in return. Children need love, people. And Ciel needs therapy.

Phantomhive Staff: Laughter

TastingLatte

Summary:

The rare days and times when they can let loose and laugh. A small snap-shot of one of those days.

Part of the series Feelings: A Series of One-Shots.

Work Text:

LAUGHTER

It started out slow, and built, and rumbled in the chest, and spilled past perfectly trained lips, and then, then it split the air in two, loud and sure, unafraid.

Finny did a cart-wheel again and grinned.

Mey-Rin swatted in the air as she tried to capture the butterfly.

Bard was balancing trays on his head.

Sebastian sat on a chair and watched the small cat in the bushes batting at a fly.

Ciel was being fed by Lizzie, cherries, but she kept throwing them and they landed on his chest, or beside them as they lay on the lawn.

Tanaka sipped tea, his eyes dancing.

The sun was high, the day was warm, but not uncomfortably, and a small breeze had started to push fluffy, puffy white clouds into the sky. The day, if asked by anyone, was perfect. It was perfect.

Ciel smiled as Lizzie finally got a cherry in his mouth and he sat up to not chock, sure that either Tanaka or Sebastian would run over in a moments notice if he was. But he laughed as Lizzie threw another cherry, and he caught it in his hand, and he tossed it back, and she tried to catch it in her mouth.

Bard tipped his head and had to catch the empty tray before it crashed to the grass, and he quickly ducked out of the way as Mey-Rin was running at him, fixated on a bright blue butterfly and not paying attention. He caught her around the waist as she almost fell into the little pond in the middle of the vast lawn. Mey-Rin’s surprised gasp and squeak made Finny pause and point at them, laughing.

It boiled up and spilled over. It was organic and beautiful.

And as the day came to an end, the staff and the Earl and Lady went into the Manor, to eat a perfectly prepared meal, they all wondered why their days had to be so dark and so cautions when the sun was shinning, the breeze was perfect, and they were enjoying life.

At the end of the day, after everyone went to bed, Sebastian sat in the chair, petting the cat in extreme happiness and as it jumped lightly from his grasp and flicked its tail at him and wondered back to his bush, he too let a laugh out; the days of carefree and laughter were too few and it did make him wish the family he called his, could have more. But even as he watched the cat disappear, he knew the laughter would as well.

Series this work belongs to:

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The Maid

bertholdtfruitbar

Summary:

He can't help but feel captivated by her.

Notes:

This is a new style of writing for me, I hope it works out well for me. I wrote this using ZENwriter and I would highly recommend this tool to everyone.

Work Text:

Behind her thick glasses, the maid's eyes showed signs of a intelligence and awe.

Often times he would catch himself glancing into them, wondering what her thoughts were at that very moment. What mysteries lay behind those eyes of red? What was she like growing up? Had she always been the way she was or was this some form of facade she put up?

When it was time to clean up, the maid would stand behind him and wipe the dirt off the table. The butler would say something about the next day, and then he would bid them a goodnight. Probably off to finish his own duties before retiring-though the chef knew that he would simply come back into the kitchen to fix their mistakes.

The Gardener was the second to go, letting out a huge yawn as he said his goodnight and behind him the footman followed. The Steward is already asleep, unlike the rest of them the old man is exempt from nightly chores and is allotted as many time as he wants to rest.

That would leave him with the maid. Sometimes idle chatter would pop up, other times they would work in silence. And when he felt that she wasn't looking, he would watch her out of the corner of his eye.

He can't help, but feel captivated by her. The way she moved, the way she talked-how she spoke to him in a motherly manner even though he was quite older than she was. It seemed the maid spent her time looking out for everyone, but no one would look out for her.

She didn't seem to mind however.

Her lips move however, and he realizes that she is speaking to him. She says something about their Young Master, and how she would like to do something special for him. "With his birthday just around the corner, it would be nice-it would."

He pays attention to how she words things, not much paying attention to what she is saying. The chef looks to her, and he shakes his head quietly. "Do y'remember what happened last time we did somethin'? 'burnt down the kitchen!"

She laughs at him, and though others might find it annoying-he finds it angelic. She can't help her nasally voice however, when those glasses push down on the base of her nose it makes it difficult for her not to sound so nasally when she speaks or laughs.

"You burnt down the kitchen," She says to him, a playful smile on his face; "he would like it, I think!"

He wonders if the butler knows about her plans, as he would never let them do this on their own accord. At least not without interfering. "Fine."

"Can you bake a cake without charrin' it?"

He wants to roll his eyes at her, seem annoyed at her for the jab. But it was all in fun anyways, that's what they do here at the manor. They make fun of each other, at least the three of them. It makes them feel a little better, "You'll get your cake, uncharred missy."

She smiles at him, "Hey Bardo.?"

He again refrains from rolling his eyes at his nickname, "What is it?"

"I'm feeling glad that I came here after all."

She takes off her glasses, placing them on the table she looks up at him and he is once again captivated by her eyes. Did the young master give her those glasses to help her see or did he want to hide those wonderous eyes from the world?

After all, a maid could never attract any attention to herself. She would simply attract too much attention with those eyes of hers, but with those eyes she could kill a man. After a moment of staring he gives her one of his rare genuine smiles.

"I'm glad you're here too."

And with that, he gave her a kiss on the nose.

Homecoming

imtoolazytothinkofausername

Summary:

The trip to the Sanatorium leaves its mark on Baldroy.

A series on interconnected drabbles and scenes.

Notes:

I do not own Kuroshitsuji, and I did not write this for profit. At this point, we don't know how things will end at the Sanatorium, but I'm being cautiously optimistic. If Bard does die (Yana, don't you dare!), this will obviously be an au.

Chapter 1: Distraction

Chapter Text

The train ride back to London took only a couple of days, but it seemed to drag on longer than their entire stay at the Sanatorium. The raw carnage, all of those deaths...the screams echoing in his ears...Baldroy barely knew what Lau was saying half the time as the man prattled on and on during the ride home.

The first night he couldn’t sleep. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw the terror in the patients’ eyes...Ada...Layla...and Terry. It wasn’t as if Baldroy hadn’t seen worse, but he’d never grown used to it. Killing assassins to save a child was one thing, but watching soldiers die after being harvested for their blood...

The second night, he accepted Lau’s offer of a distraction. The chef couldn’t say he trusted the man, not after what he’d seen him do, but it worked at least. He was able to get at least a few hours of rest before the train stopped. Baldroy supposed the man had plenty of opportunities to learn how to make men forget for a bit, given the type of business he ran.

Nevertheless, Baldroy was relieved when they pulled into the station. Lau made him uncomfortable. It was something about his eyes and his smile. Something not unlike Sebastian. Something that told Baldroy that this man could kill him given the chance. But there was none of the comforting fondness that occasionally flashed across Sebastian’s eyes, the type that said, “You amuse me. I think I’ll keep you around a little longer.”

If it benefited him, Lau would kill him, Baldroy thought. Painfully if he thought it would be fun. And he'd tell the young master it was someone else.

Chapter 2: Reunion

Notes:

I do not own Kuroshitsuji, nor is this written for profit.