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littlefireball · 3 months ago

Note

Can you make a Werewolf Yeosang too?

Yah of course 😎 sub yeosang is here btw 😗

ʏꜱ|ꜱᴇx ꜱʟᴀᴠᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴡᴀʀᴅ (ᴍ)

ʙᴇᴛᴀ ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ꜱᴜʙ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴅᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.5ᴋ

Masterlist

Had it not been for the poisoning incident, you would have never found yourself caught up in this questionable contest. Now, standing toe to toe with your rival, you pace anxiously, battling the discontent bubbling inside you and the "toxins" wreaking havoc on your system.

A wave of regret washes over you as you think back to your adventurous spirit that led you to sample such strange concoctions—a glass of wine laced with aphrodisiacs. With no known cure for these powerful agents, the only path back to normalcy lies in having sex with others.

A searing heat envelops your body, your heart pounds wildly in your chest, and every breath feels like a struggle. At first, you tried to withstand the agony, but the toll on your body becomes too much to bear, drastically affecting your everyday existence. In a fit of desperation, you find yourself wandering into the grim world of the slave market.

Whether it's the intoxicating haze clouding your mind or amplifying your cravings, the sight of the prized "championship trophy" stirs a fire within you that demands to be unleashed.

Yeosang—renowned as the finest sex slave in the shadowy underbelly of the black market. To be more specific, he is a werewolf slave. How unfortunate for him, as he was forsaken by his own kind. The tale is straightforward. The mate of the wolf pack's leader became infatuated with him, yet he refused to yield to her advances, leading to her slandering him. Naturally, he stood no chance against the alpha; after all, he is merely a beta.

Clad in a sleek black silk suit, he kneels within the confines of a cage, his hands and feet ensnared by heavy chains, reminiscent of a peacock deprived of its liberty. His striking beauty feels utterly misplaced in this grim reality, with his youthful visage starkly contrasting the violent chaos that surrounds him.

Yet, he remains indifferent to the impending clash, for he is merely a "trophy," and the value he offers will remain unchanged, no matter who emerges victorious.

"Oh damn, what's wrong with me…" Your gaze is irresistibly drawn to him. Yeosang bows his head, his eyes fixating on the handcuffs encircling his wrists, a look of sorrow washing over his face as he gently traces the angry red marks left by the bindings. You take in this poignant scene, but soon redirect your attention to the looming battle.

Ho, you must be crazy because of that fucking alcohol. Why do you feel pity when you kill people for a living? Why do you have to compete in person when you can obviously solve the problem with money?

Just fuck it.

You inhale deeply, centering your thoughts back on the game. Both of you stand poised, hearts racing, waiting for your foes to make the first move.

Your eyes lock in a fierce stare, each of you radiating intensity. In your mind, you strategize, plotting the perfect moment to strike and finish the duel with a single, decisive blow.

Yet, the crowd's restlessness grows, their thirst for blood palpable.

"Just fight already! Quit stalling! You two idiots!"

A voice cuts through the tension, a man shouting in frustration at the drawn-out standoff. The knights halt their fidgeting, turning their fierce gazes toward the impatient onlookers.

Seizing the moment while your adversary is momentarily distracted, you launch yourself forward, driving your sword with all your strength!

He attempts to defend himself with crossed arms, but your blow is too powerful, sending him crashing to the ground, his trident skittering away.

You stride over him, looking down at the defeated figure, and raise your gleaming blade.

In a heartbeat, his head tumbles away like a ball kicked across the field, blood erupting like a geyser, splattering your armor and weapon.

Thus, the clash concludes—an outcome devoid of tension or buildup. The audience stands in stunned silence, unable to comprehend how this "epic battle" could be resolved in mere moments.

Even Yeosang stands in shock, having never encountered such raw power in any battle he has witnessed before. A wave of terror washes over him. Panic surges in his chest, gripping his nerves and rendering him motionless. His eyes, wide with fear, lock onto yours, as if he might crumble at any moment.

You step closer to Yeosang, your face devoid of expression, unlock the cage, and reach out your hand to him. "You belong to me now," you deliberately lower your voice, ensuring that your words remain unheard by others. After a tense pause, he finally responds, trembling as he takes hold of your hand.

You draw him out of the cage, your hand resting firmly on the back of his neck, and once more you lower your voice, whispering, "You understand what you need to do, don't you?" "Yes, Sir."

You both step into the room, the door clicking shut behind you. He reaches for your armor, but you halt his hand. Confused, he tilts his head, yet you ignore his puzzled expression and pull him onto the bed.

"Listen, I'm poisoned. I just need your help to detox, and I promise I don't have any strange habits."

"But… how can I assist you?"

"You're amusing. Did you forget your role?" Leaning down, you gently lift his chin with one finger while your other hand rests on his thigh.

"What's your safe word? I don't want to cause you any harm." He blinks in surprise, having never been posed such a question, but quickly gathers himself and replies, "Gr… Green."

"Good," you say with a smile, removing your mask and letting your hair cascade down. It's then he realizes you are a woman.

Taken aback, he stares in disbelief, struggling to grasp the reality. In all the slave competitions he's been part of, it's predominantly men who compete, with only a handful of women.

"You are staring."

"You are stunning"

He can't hold back any longer, his words spilling out in a rush as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your heart swells with affection at his charming confession, and you can't help but chuckle. You gently cradle his face in your hands, leaning in to press your lips against his.

This kiss is unlike any he has known; it's soft and tender, wrapping him in a blissful haze. There's no urgency, no nibbles—just the delicate dance of your lips, occasionally brushing against each other in sweet little pecks. You soon break the kiss, tracing your finger over his lips and softly ask, "Wanna feel good?" Confused, he nods his head.

"Words." you remind him. "Yes, sir… master." You stand up and remove your armor, leaving only your bra and underwear, then kneel in front of him.

Your hands caress his thighs as you kiss his sensuous lips again. With a hint of aggression, your tongue slides into his mouth while dancing with his and taking control. He can't help but moan shyly. The vibrations from each moan he releases gradually pushes you over the edge that makes you desire more.

"Oh fuck, your voice is so beautiful." You say between the kisses. The heat within your body burns like a flame, urging you to have sex with him. "Damn it…"

Your lips part once more as you settle onto his lap, rhythmically swaying your body back and forth, intentionally pressing against his member. The friction between your thighs sends shivers through you both, igniting a warmth that spreads rapidly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, drawing nearer, occasionally brushing against his growing arousal.

Even through the fabric, the friction sends waves of excitement coursing through Yeosang. He can feel himself growing harder as the tip of his cock brushes against your lower core. A rush of heat envelops him, concentrating on his manhood, while the pre-cum seeps out, dampening his underwear, leaving him with a chill from the wetness.

With a firm grip, you pin him down, and he submits willingly to the bed, your lips locked together, creating an embarrassingly wet sound with each kiss. Breaking away from his lips, you begin to suck and lick at his neck, expertly targeting his sensitive spots. Your playful teasing elicits deep, satisfied moans from him.

"I have never used the word beautiful to describe a man." You whisper in his ears before planting a kiss on his lips. "Oh… gosh…" Yeosang has never experienced such pleasure before. For him, sex is always about service rather than enjoyment.

"Sounds good" Smiling, your hand trails down to the hem of his panties, pulling down enough to free his cock. You hold his member, feeling his hardness beneath your palm. Moving up and down slowly, you make sure he feels every move of your fingers. "Goodness…" The itchy feeling sends shivers down his spine, especially your finger rubs against his tip while giving it a hard press.

He never thought he could be so eager to have sex with anyone. Even you can say, he hates it. But you are different. Each of your movements sends a thrill through him, his desire rising like a tide of ecstasy. He craves you deeply, yearning to feel your warmth wrap around him, guiding him to the ultimate climax.

"Hmmm… I wanna enter you. Please." His beg makes you let out a low chuckle. "You're more impatient than me. Are you the one who was poisoned?" You release his handcuffs and pull him towards the headboard, where he clasps his hands onto it. Taking off all his clothes, his semi-hardened cock is revealed with precum covered on it.

"So horny, aren't you?" "Yes, yes. Please let me have you, master." You are hesitant from his words, wondering if it is education in the black market. He is supposed to be strong, brave, but not beg from others. 'What they did for him.' You think, an inexplicable anger ignites in your heart.

You will kill for him after this encounter ends. You promise.

"Be patient, little wolf." You kneel down before sinking down your face between his thighs. "Let me have a taste first." Gripping his cock, you guide it to your mouth and lick it from the bottom to the top. "Oh god." He arches his back as the numbness and the pleasure crush within his body, a long-throaty moan leaving his lips as you continue to please him with your tongue.

"Open your legs wide or I will stop," you command. "Yes, master. I am sorry." His legs wide open again as you prop against his thigh as support, moving up and down quickly while teasing his ball. Your tongue circled the head of his shaft, sucking hard, leaving a reddish mark. He rolls his hip to thrust deeper; his cock twitches each time the tip reaches your throat, and you know he is about to reach his peak. But you pull out before he comes undone in your mouth.

"Why…master…I want to cum." He cries out, tears dripping down because of delightful. "Only a good boy can cum. Will you promise? Little wolf." "Yes! I will! I promise." His begging satisfies your ego and makes it grow. Maybe the beast called desire inside you is finally breaking out of its cage.

"Then help me." Removing your panties, you throw it away before aiming at his erection, sinking down slowly. You can feel every vein of his cock as your wall tightens around it, making you carve for more. "Master, it feels so good!" "Yah, fuck!" His sperm keeps flowing out, wetting your velvet wall.

"Tell me if you can't bear it." He remains in disbelief at the words that reached his ears. You actually care for him? Is that true? What could possibly motivate that? Even if he's merely a means for your own cleansing, there's no obligation for you to feel anything for him. Yet, before he can delve deeper into his thoughts, you begin to bounce, rhythmically rising and falling after adjusting his size and the sensation of being enveloped.

Your hands press firmly on his shoulders, your nails piercing his skin just a touch too deeply, drawing blood and inflicting a sting. But he feels excited instead of painful. Your breasts bounce up and down from your movements, making him lost in this alluring sight. God, he can just watch how you bounce on him for an hour.

"Ahhh…master…gosh!!" Each time you descend, his tip brushes against your tender skin, eliciting a symphony of moans from both of you. Your rhythm accelerates, and the power behind your thrusts grows stronger. It feels as though you've drained every ounce of energy, leaving a hollow sensation in your lower body that is increasingly uncomfortable.

He yearns to explore your body, to savor every curve and contour of your skin. However, he remains immobilized, his hands bound at the head of the bed. The relentless tugging creates faint red lines on his wrists, while his palms grow slick with sweat from the tension of his clenched fists, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

Your right hand finds its way to his throat, applying pressure that steals his breath and brings dark spots to his vision. He attempts to lift his head for a gasp of air, but you have no intention of granting him a moment's relief. Your rapid up-and-down movements force him to hold his breath. The overwhelming stimulation leaves him dizzy and pushes him to the limit.

"Ahh! Ahh!! Green!!" The moment he speaks the safe word, you instantly cease all movement, loosening your hold on his throat. "Are you alright? Is there any pain?" you inquire gently, a trace of worry lacing your tone. He hesitates, words escaping him as he simply gazes into your caring eyes. You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, your fingers gliding over his delicate skin until they rest on the vivid red birthmark.

Throughout his life as a slave, comfort has been a foreign concept, with no one ever caring for his well-being. In stark contrast to your indifference towards life in the heat of battle, you show genuine concern for him, striving to bring him joy. How could he possibly resist falling for you? Perhaps he's been ensnared by a different kind of poison, one known as "love at first sight." You lean closer, brushing your lips against his, captivated by the magic in his eyes.

"I can stop if you want." You remark. "No, please. I want you, master. I want my cock deep inside you again. I want to touch you. And has your poison been cured?"

Responding to his beg, you pull out from his body and free him from his bindings. Your gaze falls upon the bruises encircling his wrists, and you gently stroke them with your thumb.

"It appears my poison still lingers. Come and help me."

In an instant, he straightens up, his hands finding their way to your shoulders as he leans over you, pinning you down. Shock flickers in your eyes at his abrupt action, but you swiftly gather your calmness and align yourself with his intentions.

"Let me serve you, my lord." His face falls into your neck, sucking and biting your skin to leave a crystal clear red mark. He is really skilled at turning others on harder;the wet muscle trails down to your breast, licking your left nipple while squeezing another with his hand. His thumb circles it along the curve, giving a hard press to make you moan and throw your head at the back.

Guiding his cock to rub against your clit, he thrusts your cunt once again, hitting your sweet dead on. "Here, right?" He smirks with a sense of pride. "Ye..yah!" Not waiting for you to finish your words, his tip hits the same place once again. The waves of numbness make you squirm, and your screams are not as high-pitched as before, but with a shy feeling.

"I love your moaning, master." You let out an exasperated sigh, feeling a surge of warmth envelop you completely. Yeosang leans in, planting soft kisses along your neck while maintaining a steady rhythm. His shaft glides against your slick walls, creating a sound reminiscent of flowing water. With each thrust, he quickens his pace, closing the gaps between each tantalizing connection to your G-spot.

Your breath becomes shallow, and your heart pounds wildly as he maps out every curve of your body with his lips and hands, as if he were intimately familiar with every secret you hold. You wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his back, leaving a trail of marks on his skin.

Yeosang buries his head in your chest, groaning against it. You are so perfect for him, from head to toes. Just everything. Although he doesn't even know your name, your personality, he ensures you are the one he is looking for. Someone who cares about him, someone with whom he can enjoy sex.

He loathes the idea of sex, viewing it as a repugnant transaction. He has grown weary of the way others have treated him, often rough and unkind. Each encounter left him battered to some extent, reduced to nothing more than a plaything. Yet, when he sees you, everything changes. You bring him joy and tenderness, showering him with genuine care.

It may seem almost humorous, but deep down, he realizes that you are the only one he desires, and his body confirms the truth of his feelings.

He places your leg on his shoulder and thrusts as fast as possible. "Ah!Fuck!" "Please say my name, my lord. I want to hear you say it." "Oh…yeosang ar…" Shit! He is unable to control himself anymore. He withdraws a bit and pushes into your cunt in a powerful motion over and over again.

"I'm cumming, master." He feels his cock twitches as you keep sucking him in. "Cum…cum inside me." Yeosang's thrusts become rushed and lose his rhythm; you grab his shoulders, making an "O" shape with your mouth, panting as if you are about to run out of oxygen.

"Oh! Oh! God!" After a few more thrusts, you both reach climax; your hot juices cover his cock and his sperm creams your wall. He thrusts forward twice before pulling out, lying down beside you. After a short rest, the hot feeling in your body has finally dissipated, you get up and put your clothes back on, ready to leave.

"My body is already healed, thanks." You say without noticing his sadness.

"Aren't you staying?" Yeosang asks with confusion.

"Staying? Why? Didn't I tell you that I'm just here to detoxify? Also, I have work." Yes, you have to 'deal with' those people who treated Yeosang badly.

"Will you come back then?"

"Nope." You observe him bow his head, gently stroking his wrist before hesitantly reaching to the nape of his neck. Even in his silence, you can sense the thoughts swirling in his mind. "No worries. I'm gonna kill those people who treated you badly and you can be free."

"What? No…I…"

"Isn't this what you wanted? To leave the cage and no longer be bound by anyone."

"But I don't know where to go or what to do…I'm just a reward…"

"Then go find out, go explore what you want to do."

He lowers his head in silence, deep in thought. Suddenly, he tightens his embrace around you.

He bows his head, enveloped in his thoughts, and then suddenly tightens his hold around you, as if fearing you might slip away.

"Will you stay…? That's all I want. Please… don't leave me alone. You're the only one who cares for me. I'm yours, and I'd do anything for you. Just don't go."

You can't help but giggle at his endearing gesture, stroking his hair softly as you respond, "Are you really sure? I'm a knight, and my profession is to take lives."

"Yah!I'm yours! Just let me stay with you. I'll even give you a written promise, if that's what you want!""

Maybe he sees you as a lifeline. Although you have never thought about buying a slave, it seems that if you reject him, he may feel sad. Also, you don't want him to serve anyone else.

"Umm…fine."

"Really?" A radiant smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. You give a nod in response.

"Can I cuddle you?" It's the first time he's asked this as a servant, and he can hardly believe he's free to follow his heart's desire. You nod again, and he gently pulls you down onto the bed, nestling his face against your chest.

"Just like a little puppy."

"Perhaps I know your name? My lord."

"Y/N."

"It sounds like a name for a genuinely good person."

"You're being overly dramatic." You chuckle softly, allowing him to wrap his arms around you as you both drift into a peaceful slumber.

Well, maybe this aphrodisiac isn't so terrible after all. And of course, you make your promise ─ kill others for him, only.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x female reader #ateez oneshot #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez yeosang #yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 4 months ago

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Hello! New prompt list just dropped. Can I get number 8 with Marko. It just fits him so well

Yes, absolutely! I hope you like this!

8. Why do you think I am the one most likely to wreck my bike?

------------------

"Hi, how can I help you?" I looked up, putting my standard customer service smile upon my face as I saw four bikers enter the store. I had seen them before, racing around the boardwalk on their motorcycles, tormenting the security guard. They seemed like wild people, not caring about a single thing in the world. It made me wonder, why would they be here?

"We want to sign up." The man clad in all black spoke, his voice demanding and cold.

I nodded, looking over some files. "Alright, I will need you all to fill in these forms."

"That's it?" A blonde looked at me, a certain sense of surprise in his tone. "You said it was way more work."

"Shit do I know," the leader of the group spoke again as he took the four forms, handing them out between them.

"Well, I mean, you do have to pay for our program."

It didn't take long, or the files were handed back to me. I looked them over, checking certain things. Their address, their account number at the bank. I was about to let them pay, when I noticed something.

"Which one of you is Marko?"

The curly blonde stepped forward, a slight defiant look on his face, as if daring me to say something.

"If you're eighteen I'll need to charge you more for the insurance."

"What? Why?"

"Statistically speaking, out of the four of you, you're the most likely to wreck your bike."

"Why do you think I am the one most likely to wreck my bike?"

"Your age, mainly."

"You really believe that?"

"I don't necessarily," I said, mentally adding that his attitude was a definite reason why he could crash his bike at some point, "but the company does, I can't help it."

"And what if I was nineteen?"

"What, you have a timemachine to age yourself up?"

"I'm flexible when it comes to age."

I raised an amused eyebrow. "Sure. The thing is, I can't change a thing about it. If you want insurance for your bike, you'll need to pay more."

"See, this is what's wrong with the fucking system!" Marko grumbled, still dropping some bills on the desk in front of me.

"Blame capitalism, not me."

"What if I talk you on a ride, show you how save I drive?"

I looked at him, realising there was only one year difference between us if he hadn't lied about him being eighteen. He looked tough, but even though his attitude was a thing, he did know what he wanted and why. Because of my conversation with him, I'd completely forgotten the other boys, but when I looked up, I saw them pretending to be busy at the other end of the store.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Would you say yes?"

"Would you be okay with me going out with you even though I didn't do a single thing to lower your price because I can't?"

"I'll never shut up about it, but I might forgive you."

I chuckled before nodding. I put their files in the right computer format, scanning them in and letting their leader - David - pay for the insurance on their bikes. I locked the store, smiling as I saw Marko waiting for me.

He helped me on, even giving me a helmet before he told me to hold on tightly. He raced off, sand flying everywhere. He jumped his bike up in the air, landing on the sand several feet below. I screamed.

"What, the bike's all save and secure?!"

"The bike might be!" I yelled over the rumble of the motor as I held on tightly to him, "but I am not!"

#the lost boys #marko #tlb #david #paul #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

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shinjisdone · 1 year ago

Text

Ticking Springs

(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

capitolo uno

capitolo due

here is: capitolo tre

capitolo quattro

capitolo cinque

capitolo sei

capitolo sette

Capitolo otto

Capitolo nove

Capitolo dieci

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.

Tag list:

@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1 , @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites

TW in general: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationship, still in WIP more warnings may occurr in time

The day felt long but not productive enough for you.

Plopping down on your stool with a sigh, you opened the creaking drawer yet again this evening. Although your uncle showed you a bit more and taught you more as he promised, it still stung knowing that the butler puppets were still there on the tables, waiting. Today was not enough to fully repair them.

You know these models. They were one of the first ones marketed and demanded for and so, so easy to teach and gauge. Geppetto constructed them in a few months. The troubleshoot lasted two weeks. They were a big shot on the market and have been so for half a decade almost and yet you struggled to give them back their voices. Both of them could barely let out a greeting.

Sometimes you wonder how the members of the Workshop Union are with them. Even when you try to push these depressing thoughts away, you bet that many at your age could bring these puppets back to their jobs with one hand. And you were here alone in your room, tinkering with the small box.

It was the size of an adult palm. Sharp and clad in gold, the wires neatly hidden behind the cube. All the vocabulary and speech pattern were intact in the system and Geppetto deduced that the fault must lie in the box itself. Now trying to find the bug within this cable clutter was your job. ‘A lesson’ as your Uncle put it.

He was already gone. Put back on his melon hat and coat for the cold weather and let you know he wouldn’t be back until late at night, as usual.

A frustrated groan escaped you and the temptation to let this cube fall right out of your hands at this hour was big. The tinkering didn’t last long and your eyes would wander around the table, at anything else but the golden box.

The drawer peeked open – you weren’t keen on closing and opening it lest it meant having to bear that irritating creaking – and you’ve given into it. Letting your hand crawl to the very back, you gingerly took out the doll from the other night. Her blonde, long hair swung with the motion and her little, button eyes still seemed so kind even after you stuck her inside a dark drawer. A smile unwittingly graced your lips and you patted her dress down. She was still beautiful.

Biting your lips in thought, your other hand reached out to the box. Gingerly and slowly taking out the screwdriver, you opened one side and while the sight or red, blue and yellow cables did not delight you, your finger crawled into the clutter. Fishing out one core cable, you glanced at the doll – and set her aside before hurrying downstairs.

Turning on the lamp hanging above the work table, you quickly turned one of the butler puppets on their backs, screwdriver in hand.

It is child’s play to insert and disconnect the placeholder for the voice box.

Running back to your room, your hands quickly snaked around your doll, flipped over the dress to show her bare back. Inside there were plugs, as you thought.

The toy was old. One of the first things you’ve gotten and were never really meant to be more than just a toy and not a puppet. Yet you remember when certain possibilities of chatting were mentioned, as if to give your younger self the illusion that there was a real friend in your doll.

That was years ago and you were a simple child. Just her presence was enough to entertain and soothe you.

Before you knew it, the mere thought of looking after the butlers was vanquished from your mind as you spent the next hours connecting cables not meant for a tiny toy to make her speak. Feeling how your eyelids grew heavier and your impatience just as much, you put your tools aside and took your beloved doll in your hands.

The process is much more difficult than you imagined. In her current form, your doll could never speak like the butlers. You’d have to take her apart.

Still, licking your lips, you took a breath.

Your mind halted a bit.

“…Girls are stupid.”

Silent ensued and you could hear something beep for a moment.

“…Girls are stupid.”

A humph escaped your nose. You didn’t think your voice would be repeated from the box itself.

You should be happy though. It worked. You couldn’t decipher why exactly that kid’s stupid comment still stuck in your mind, however.

Shaking off the thought, you continued. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“I am a doll.”

“…I am a doll.”

“And I like to sing!”

A smile was etched on your face. The voice box even caught your high note.

You couldn’t help but giggle. If you hadn’t remembered that the cord was still connected to her back, you would have spun your doll around. Still, your childish laughter resounded in the room and you were quick to tidy everything up.

Make it seem like nothing happened.

The door was quickly shut in hopes the entrance won’t get drenched again. Shaking of the water and hanging the heavy scarf away, feet quickly but quietly climbed up the stairs. The door creaked ever so slightly and he shook his head at the sight of the young woman leaning her head on the table and hands tainted with oil. She’ll know in the morning that it won’t wash off.

Shutting it close, the bag was picked up just as quiet. The hallway long, longer than anyone else in this building knows it to be.

Still and silent and different. It grew in his heart and none of these gentlemen would understand it, none understand the true humanity behind it. How it excels him, makes him feel alive as he tinkers on new life itself.

The armchair was as soft and comfortable as it was like last time. Its deep red color seated neatly the dim room and he deserved no less as he gently knelled down. He took out one tool after another, neatly putting the ones unneeded away. The materials he fished out were clean and new, welcomed into his hands with enthusiasm that could barely reach his own zeal.

“Time is fastening. And it’s going wonderfully.” He spoke as if no one else could hear him. Gingerly he moved the metal closer to the entrance, before inserting them with care. The resounding ticks of the springs made him smile. “…Nothing else seems to matter. At times I lose myself while even listening. It is all…nothing.” Removing his finger, the spring reacted but there wasn’t a single stir on his face. “Even she seems so unaware but yet even so, more open-minded than them. Of course, she’s part family, only she would even think…”

Trailing off, his gaze wandered over the torso. A thoughtful sigh escaped him as he looked back into the bag. Licking his lips, he stood still there. Still on his knees, hands empty as he simply observed the springs reacting slowly and feebly. Another noise escaped him and he tilted his head. The monocle was littered with small raindrops but he had no problem seeing through them, not when it came to him.

“She’s a bit more open now than she used to be. No more such a wall flower.” His knees cracked as he got up and groan of pain escaped him briefly and softly. A moment later as he managed to fully stand up, he walked to the table left to him. The clothes were neatly folded even as they were unfinished. He’d rather sit at the sewing machine tonight but was unsure if the noise would waken her. Instead, he mused if he should give them over to a tailor.

Taking a fistful of the blouse, he stopped and looked back to the armchair. His mind was more cluttered than he anticipated. He didn’t know where to continue.

“Although she might get quickly upset if you tease her again.”

#lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p pinocchio #pinocchio #yandere #yandere lies of p #yandere pinocchio #Ticking springs

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qqtxt · 2 years ago

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[🌸] hold me w/ txt.yeonjun [2/5]

✿ pairing: yeonjun x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / fluff ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 1000 words for each member [word count: 639 words] ✿ in which you’re in a demand for hugs and this is how they react [masterlist 🌸] / other members will follow suit!

this... was quite unlike you. normally, you’d be level-headed enough to know that it’s late, you should probably go home now, maybe tell him to stop by instead. but no. here you are, making your way to where he works as he’s mentioned he’s by himself in the studio; playing with some melodies, messing around with song-making. it’s currently close to midnight but you can’t–just can’t–seem to fall asleep. the thought of being in his arms is more tempting than anything in the world, and so, you decide to go to just where you want to.

[🦊] yeonjun you manage to find the studio he’s in and give it two knocks. he doesn’t seem to answer the door immediately, which leads you to open the door to let yourself in. he lifts his head from the computer screen, notebook left abandoned at the sight of you. his pen drops to the table with an echoed thud, the excitement soon filling his veins.

“baby!” he greets, his tone enthusiastic despite tiredness weighing heavy in his system. it’s like you’ve lighten him up, without trying, so effortlessly. you close the door behind you with a huff, arms crossed in front of your chest as you stand there, unmoving.

he pouts, rolling his chair towards you with wide arms, “ahhh... what’s wrong?”

his reaches out, managing to grip onto the material of your hoodie as he gently tugs you closer to him. once within reach, he pulls you down to sit on his lap, legs swept to the side as he tucks you close, his lips kissing your shoulder before he rests his chin there. he peeks to your face within his ability, and huffs when you don’t say anything.

“not gonna talk to me? how mean...” he gives you another kiss, to your neck this time before he murmurs over your skin, “missed you...” you feel his face nuzzling there, comfortable, making your heart swell.

you can’t resist any longer and move to lean your head against the side of his, your hands rubbing over his hoodie-clad arms around you. “i missed you... didn’t wanna wait for you to come over later.”

“ah,” he hums knowingly, nodding to your shoulder, “that’s what this is about?”

you tsk and hit his arm, to which he chuckles lightly.

“wanna go home now, then?”

“are you finished with work?”

“i can be.”

“that wasn’t the question.”

“but that was the answer.”

“...choi yeonjun.”

he sighs and lifts his head up, back to hooking his chin on your shoulder as you two stare at each other’s reflection because of his blacked out computer screen due to the inactivity.

“i mean... there’s still a couple of things to tweak on the track, but nothing i can’t finish up tomorrow.”

you stroke the material of his hoodie, softly, as you lean back against his chest with a small smile he catches through the reflection.

“then finish it. i just wanna be here with you, if that’s okay?”

“augh,” he scoffs a laugh, shaking his head, “that will always be okay.”

“okay?” you double-check, even though it’s useless.

“yeah, okay.” he laughs, knowing very well of your intentions and he hums in delight as he shifts his chair closer to the table and keeps one arm around your waist to hook you onto him, the other reaching out to wiggle the mouse as he continues his work. it’s mundane, quiet, but it’s the kind of love that you appreciate with yeonjun. he trusts you, to allow you to stay with him through the process of his work when he’s most vulnerable and he appreciates the way you seem to appreciate being able to be here with him.

that... that was more than enough to keep yeonjun going with work and still feel at ease with having you here.

#txt scenarios #txt x you #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fluff #choi yeonjun #txt yeonjun

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magpie-writes · 2 years ago

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Catching Snowflakes

Part One

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Summary: Din and his latest bounty crash land on an ice planet. Can you trust each other enough to survive?

Tags: Enemies to lovers. This chapter is pretty tame but things will, ahem, heat up soon. Pre-Grogu.

Author’s Note: Unbetaed, but thank you to @acrossthesestars for gently bullying me into getting back on the writing horse. Thank you also to @radiowallet for her advice about all things fic. I love you both lots.

“Is this what you meant by bringing me in cold? Because I gotta say, there must be an easier way.”

The Mandalorian kneeling beside you in the snow responds with an irritated grunt - which is more of a response than you’ve gotten in the hours since the two of you crash landed on this icy planet. You feel a surge of triumph at getting that much of a win although, with your hands in binders, you know it’s nothing more than a hollow victory.

Still, if all you can do is needle him with your words, jabbing in between the unprotected places in his armor like the stinging sleet currently sliding down the back of your neck, you’ll take it.

Neither of you are dressed for this. Standing in the grey leggings, lavender tunic, and thin woolen coat he’d tracked you down in, you’re halfway to frostbitten already. Still, smug satisfaction curls in your belly as you take in the ice riming the bounty hunter’s normally shining beskar. Opaque white crackles over the plates of his armor like frost on a windowpane, its crystalline branches spreading further and further the longer he crouches beside the open panel of his Razor Crest. One of the engines blew hours after he captured you, forcing the ship into a tailspin he’d only just managed to pull out of before making a heavy landing into powdery drifts of snow seemingly as tall as he is.

He’s spent the time since then swearing under his breath and wrestling with various tools, neither of which has accomplished more than getting a few lights to blink on and off, and delaying the inevitable - him handing you over to the people who hired him, collecting the bounty on your head, and leaving you to your fate.

A shiver that has nothing to do with the weather runs through you at the thought.

“Dank ferrik!” The Mandalorian throws a wrench into a nearby drift and rises to his feet to, you can only assume, glare down at the offending mechanism.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Is this going to delay you collecting your reward money? That’s such a pity for you.”

The black void of his visor turns to you and it takes every stubborn bone in your body not to quail beneath that flat, empty stare. You lean against the ship instead, a look of mock sympathy on your face.

“Why don’t you wait in the ship?” The hunter extends an arm towards the still-open hatch in exaggerated “invitation,” his deep voice tight with impatience.

“And miss all the fun?” Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, all innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Luckily for your extremities, the Mandalorian manages to wrestle some systems online not too much later. The Crest remains grounded, navigation and comms are still down, and he doesn’t seem optimistic about the weapons system, but the atmospherics flicker back to life, filling the Crest with light and welcome heat.

For a little while, at least.

Before you’ve even finished thawing your chilled fingers over a vent, your captor powers the ship down until all that’s left are a few low lights and the barest whisper of heat. When you shoot a look at him, he shrugs one metal-clad shoulder.

“Need to conserve power.”

Raising your manacled hands, the steel as frigid as the air outside, you demand “Think you’ll still get full price if I’m missing pieces?”

You try to force down the thought that he probably would.

He shuffles his feet for a moment, uncertain, then pulls something out of a nearby crate with a sigh.

“Come here.”

You scoff and take a step backward, your hands raised in defiance. “If you think I’m getting any closer to you than I have to, you soulless, money-grubbing -“

The Mandalorian catches your hands in his gloved ones, his grasp firm but not painfully so, and shoves something smooth and metallic against your palm, making you gasp.

It’s warm.

Your fury temporarily forgotten, you almost groan at the relief as heat radiates to the tips of your fingers. You cup your hands around the polished metal blazing like a tiny sun between your skin and his gloves.

“A hand warmer?” You look up to find the Mandalorian studying your expression, his helmeted head tilted to one side, before nodding once.

“Why didn’t you get one sooner?”

“I just have the one.”

As the heat spreads between you, the ice on his gloves begins to melt, the moisture rising into the cold air as steam. If you were anywhere else, with anyone else, you’d make some flirtatious joke about it. Surprised as you still are by the kindness of his gesture, that humor surfaces despite your better instincts, and a wry smile tugs at your lips.

“Do you hold hands with all your bounties, or just the half-frozen ones?”

The Mandalorian drops your hands like he’s been burned. Only your lightning quick reflexes save the handwarmer from dropping to the floor and, caught off guard, you attempt to hand it back to him.

“Keep it.” He nearly stumbles over a crate in his rush to put more distance between you. “I’m uh, gonna go work on the ship some more.”

Before you can think of a response, he turns and walks back into the howling wind. Alone.

Hours later, you toss and turn on the bunk you found while exploring the confines of the ship. It’s surprisingly comfortable, if small, the mattress thin but serviceable, and the blankets thick enough to wrap yourself in. They’re cleaner than you’d worried they’d be, carrying only a faint hint of what you guess must be the Mandalorian’s scent. Worn leather, softened by what you suspect may be beeswax. The tang of metal and burn of carbon. And something subtler. Warm, almost spiced. There’s something oddly comforting about it - or would be, if it didn’t remind you of the man who was hauling you to a grisly fate.

With a sigh, you flip yourself onto your back and stare up into the darkness. Where *is* that man, anyway? If he dies out in the cold, there’s no guarantee you’ll be better off. Not with the comms down and the ship grounded. You could take your chances that there might be a settlement nearby, but you hadn’t caught any glimpses of one as the Crest was plummeting to the planet’s surface. Besides, with no winter weather gear, your odds of making it any distance before collapsing are… not great.

You’re up and moving before consciously arriving at a decision.

The wintry night air whips around you, lashing the warmth from the blanket clutched around your shoulders before you can brace for its icy onslaught. It’s shockingly, brutally cold. Killing cold. Your teeth are chattering by the time you make it to the Mandalorian’s side.

Snow has drifted against his broad form and icicles cling to the cowl around his neck. He’s not moving and for a moment, you wonder if he actually has frozen to death out here by himself.

Somehow, the possibility doesn’t cheer you the way you thought it would.

“Mando?”

Reaching out, you shake his shoulder hard enough to send snow tumbling down his back, nearly jumping out of your skin when he turns to look at you.

“Maker, don’t scare me like that. What are you doing out here?”

“What do you t-think?” Despite his obvious sarcasm, the Mandalorian’s voice is dull, oddly flat. “Trying to f-fix the engine.”

He tries to rise but wavers on his feet. Instinctively, you reach out, taking his weight when his numbed feet stumble. His Beskar armor is freezing to the touch. You can only imagine how cold he must be beneath all that frozen steel.

“Come on,” you urge, slipping an arm around his waist and encouraging him to lean on you as you make your way back into the moderately warmer ship. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather leave me to f-fend for myself in the snow? Can’t say I’d b-blame you.”

You cut a glance at the bounty hunter, not sure if he’s joking.

“Oh, I considered it,” you admit breezily as you close the door behind him. Without the furious howling of the wind, the dimly lit ship falls into a hushed silence, quiet enough for you to hear the Mandalorian’s sharp bark of a laugh.

“What changed your mind?”

You shrug, not entirely sure yourself.

He stands and stares at you for a long, long moment before nodding once, murmuring a quiet thank you, and settling onto a nearby crate.

“Wait, Mando, are you going to sleep out here? In your armor?”

“That’s the plan.” He sounds tired, resigned.

“There’s not another bunk? Or…” You’re about to offer to switch places with him but stop, remembering that you’re his captive. His bounty. Why should you care where he sleeps?

“Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when all your joints rust.”

“I’m not a droid.”

For the first time, there’s heat in his voice. It’s enough to make you turn, to glare at him and demand “No? Because you’re heartless enough for one. Tell me something, Mando. Do you even know what they’ll do to me? The people that hired you to bring me down? Or why they put a bounty on me in the first place?”

There’s a long, tense moment and then, “I didn’t ask.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“I never do.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t you think you should start?”

Without waiting for an answer, you turn your back and make for the small cabin. Alone.

It’s only later, when you’re on the blurred edge of sleep, that a question of your own occurs to you: what sort of bounty hunter gives up his own bed for a captive?

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x Fem!Reader #Din Djarin x F!Reader #My fic #Fic

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breakfastteatime · 1 year ago

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Today's request is 'Sleepwalking' for @iamcalmiamthestorm :D

It is rare indeed for Merrin to be the first one awake. Cere is still fast asleep in her bunk, and when Merrin ventures out into the living space, Greez, Cal and BD-1 are all absent. Sunlight shows through their lodging’s windows. They have been on Forest Moon 1138, an old Republic scientific research base, for a week now, recuperating from Nur. They will not need to stay for much longer. Merrin will be sad to leave it, the snowy forest such a new experience for her. However, there is an entire galaxy out there, and she intends to see more of it as soon as possible.

Merrin is halfway through a cup of tea when Greez comes in, yawning and stretching. BD-1 is close behind him, hopping up onto the table and looking around. He beeps, but Merrin cannot understand him, and she apologises for this. BD-1 turns to Greez for help with a demanding trill.

“Oh, right, sorry, BD. Still half asleep I guess,” Greez says. “You seen Cal around?” he asks Merrin. “Pretty weird for him to be up before me.”

She stares at the pair. Has she seen Cal? They are the ones sharing a dorm room with him. “He was not here when I got up earlier.” And she has been up for almost an half an hour now.

There is an immediate sense of alarm in the room. Greez hurries off to check the refresher, only to come back and announce he found it empty. Merrin immediately knows this is not good, and she goes to get Cere. Thankfully, Cere is up and dressed. “Wherever he is, I can sense that he’s alright,” she says. “Although his presence is cloudy.” She finishes pulling on a boot. “We must find him.”

Cere, Merrin and BD-1 set up a search party while Greez agrees to stay behind and call if Cal returns by himself. He also starts preparing warm drinks and thick blankets. Given that Cal’s boots and poncho are all still in the base, he is likely to be very, very cold.

“Kid’s sleepwalking,” Greez surmises. “We never thought to set up an alert system here for that. Who knows how long he’s been gone. Ugh, I knew I shoulda put a bell on him.”

“He’s alive,” Cere says, holding out an arm so BD can hop onto her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Greez. We’ll find him.”

“Good. And I’ll find a bell we can tie to him while I wait.”

Clad in cold weather gear, Merrin shoulders a pack with extras for Cal. It is very cold outside, colder than it has been in days, meaning the snow has frozen so completely there are no footprints for them to follow. Merrin watches Cere close her eyes and reach for the Force. She had explained her old role as a Seeker, a Jedi who sought out Force-sensitive children. She is obviously a little rusty, and someone with training like Cal would be able to shield their presence, however if they are both right and Cal is sleepwalking, perhaps he will be unable to shield at all.

“My sisters would sometimes sleepwalk however I think it has a different meaning for Jedi. For a Nightsister to sleepwalk is to move through dreams or visions while the body remains in place,” Merrin tells Cere as they move into the woodland surrounding the base.

“That is true for many Jedi too, although I was not one of them,” Cere says. “However, Cal is the kind to take it rather literally. He may eventually outgrow the habit. I think it’s less of a Jedi trait and more of an adolescent one.”

“We can hope,” Merrin says. “And then he will have to learn to sleepwalk properly.”

“Perhaps,” Cere says with a faint smile.

Merrin can hear the distraction and worry in the older woman’s voice. “We will find him,” she says. “He will not have gone far.”

It’s a surprisingly prescient comment as just a few minutes later BD squeals joyfully and launches himself off Cere’s shoulders. He rockets through the trees to where Cal stands with his back to them.

Merrin wastes no time teleporting herself to his side, reaching him first. They are on the edge of a frozen lake, the far edge lost to a snowy fog. Cal stares into the fog, glassy eyed. BD catches up, launching himself onto Cal’s back where he immediately starts beeping loudly.

Cal takes a deep, thoughtful breath. “No, it’s fine. I’ll have it paid by Primeday. I always do.”

He starts to walk forward. Merrin intercepts him, bracing his shoulders with her hands. “Cal!” she shouts, the voices of her sisters joining her. “Wake up!”

He blinks slowly, feet staggering. “Wha –” Confused and surprised, he tips backward, but Cere’s there too, and together she and Merrin manage to drag him to a nearby log and sit him down. His bare feet are a terrible sight to behold, and now he’s awake, he’s shivering violently. “Where am I?” he asks through chattering teeth.

“Where you should not be,” Merrin tells him. She crouches down, pulls the pack off her back, and digs out the supplies. “This is not how you are supposed to sleepwalk, Cal Kestis.” She remains unimpressed by Jedi teachings.

Confused and helpless, he turns to Cere for support. Cere shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

BD-1 beeps and buzzes, throwing himself at Cal. Merrin wishes she understood him better, as whatever he says makes Cal chuckle and hug his friend close. “Thanks, BD. You are warm.”

“How are you feeling?” Cere asks as Merrin wrestles a pair of thick socks onto Cal’s torn up feet. They can fix it all back at the base.

Cal yawns. “Sleepy,” he says. His half-lidded eyes make him look like he’s been on the swamp nectar. Resting his head on BD’s is not helping him to look more awake. He yawns again and BD jabs him. “Stop. I’m awake.”

Merrin looks to Cere who shakes her head. They need to keep him awake if they are going to make it back to the base quickly. “What dream did you walk in?” she asks him.

“I didn’t walk in a dream,” he mumbles. He’s tilting to one side, well on his way to drifting off again.

“You said you will have ‘it’ paid off by Primeday. What is ‘it’?” Merrin asks.

Cal doesn’t answer.

Cere gives BD a nod, and BD whistles gleefully as he jabs his scomp link into Cal’s thigh and shocks him. Gently. Cal still leaps so high off the log he nearly tips backward. “Ow!” he gasps. “What was that for?”

“Good work, BD,” Merrin says, throwing a woollen poncho over Cal’s head. “He is awake.”

Cal grumbles the whole way back to the base, most of it slurred nonsense because he is hypothermic and half asleep. Merrin leads the way while Cere asks him every question she can think of to keep him awake. Cal is grumpy about it, so BD rides on his back, electricity crackling every time he even looks like he might fall asleep.

When they reach the base, Greez is there with tea for all, warm blankets and a medkit. Stepping back, Merrin watches as Cal lets the others fuss over him. Or is fussed over whether he likes it or not. Sometimes it is hard to tell, especially when Cal’s head is already tipped back and he’s dozing again. She smiles at the sight of him, and of BD-1 nestling down under the blankets thrown over Cal. Scourge of the Empire indeed. Merrin has not been with these people long, but already she knows they will always be a part of her life.

…although maybe she really should teach Cal how to properly sleepwalk before they have a repeat of this morning’s adventure.

#star wars jedi: fallen order #jfo minific #jfo headcanon #fic requests 2023 #cal kestis #bd 1 #merrin #cere junda #greez dritus #mantis crew #found family feels

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phoebepheebsphibs · 8 months ago

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Subsequent to the events you have just witnessed...

ACT 1

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau @tmntaucompetition @littlemissartemisia @shiveagit @shiveagit-arts @thevoidbrothers @noval1t @kathaynesart @bluepeachstudios @amevello-blue

CW: panic attacks, minor injuries, mushroom zombies, slight body horror

Prev || Next

Names and abbreviations (sorry there's a lot, we have a big cast for today's performances!) : UIFY = Until I Found You NFIF = No Fun in Fungus Leon = UIFY Leonardo 'Phael = UIFY Raphael DvD / Don = UIFY Donatello Mike/Mikey/Micheal = UIFY Michelangelo AudRaph = Swayed Raphael AudreyTello = Swayed Donatello LeonAudro = Swayed Leonardo MichelAudrelo = Swayed Michelangelo AudRai = Swayed Karai rhg!Donnie = Rise Hunger Games AU Donatello Raph = NFIF Raphael Donnie/Dee = NFIF Donatello Leo = NFIF Leonardo Angie/Angelo = NFIF Michelangelo

On with the show...

Their plan to infiltrate the competition was just way too easy. No one had seen them sneak in. No one had suspected them.

Slider-punk had even been able to disguise himself as one of the employees and hacked into the main system! His associates were outside, Spider-Dee and Spider-Gal working as employees as while Spider-Shine had gone off on his own to open a pop-up therapy stand. Business was booming, apparently. Slider-Punk was no better, he'd abandoned the real mission for a little side mission of his own, to see just how much trouble he could get himself into. He'd allowed a disembodied hand to play some Broadway showtunes over the speaker system earlier.... but the hand had disappeared shortly after, leaving Slider-Punk alone again. It was odds-bodkins, but no stranger than anything else he'd seen in this place. Anyways, what should he do next? There was so much he could do! He could practically do whatever he wanted, now...

Before he could decide, an alert showed up on the computer. Someone was trying to hack in?

Well, no joke, Sherlock! HE had ALREADY--

A line of code showed up on the screen.

Up, up, down, down, left, right, 'A'.

The computer glitched. The screen turned purple. Then blue. Slider-Punk tried rebooting. A small icon of a purple-clad ninja turtle wagging his finger and saying "Nuh-uh-uh!" popped up. Donnie. Of course. A Donnie was trying to hack in. And it didn't seem like they cared if anybody knew... which meant they were making a statement, and didn't plan on sharing their hard-earned goods.

Slider-Punk's spider sense began to tingle. He felt anxious and uneasy. His senses drew his attention away from the computer, and up to... the air vents?

Uh oh.

He immediately dashed out of the room, abandoning his bowtie and went in search of his mates -- Spider-Dee, Spider-Shine, and Spider-Gal. They would have sensed the danger as well, they needed to get to safety, see if they could protect anyone -- something bad was about to happen.

Misa struggled against Ra-Ra's tight grip on her. He was careful not to hurt her, but she still hated it. She screamed and shrieked and howled in furious anger at him, demanding that he release her.

"I'm so sorry, Misa," he wept, cradling her as he approached his prison. "But it has to be this way."

"NO! No, Ra-Ra, let go! Let go o' Misa!! Pwease, Ra-Ra!!!"

Raphael sniffled as he hugged her. He hated doing this. But... he had no choice. She was too dangerous. She knew too much, and knew too many competitors. She might have been small, but the leeway she held with everyone made her possibly the most powerful turtle mutant in this entire competition. With as many connections as she had, she could raise up an entire army against them. Raphael sighed sadly... there was no other option.

As he approached the door, Raphael saw four turtles waiting for him. The Void brothers.

"Move," he growled at them.

"I don't see why we should listen to you!" Signal hissed, Static and Waves doing their best to keep him in his "safe" form, rather than his "absolutely enraged eldritch horror" form.

"Just let me back into the room, and no one will be hurt," Raphael promised.

"And do you plan on taking the kid with you?" Radio growled back at him.

Misa whined, reaching for Waves to come and take her away. Raphael pulled her arms back down.

"Yes."

"N̴̳̆Ó̵ͅ," Signal growled, his face contorting and blackening like tar. "IÌ̵̟ ̴̯̃D̶͚͝O̶̓͜N̶̞̕'̶̹͑T̷͉̋ ̸̫̏T̸̟̅H̶͓͊Í̵̟N̷͈̾K̵͈̄ ̴̲̇Ÿ̵́͜O̴̘̓U̸̠͌'̵̯͑L̶̟̈́L̸͚̈́ ̵̯̓B̷̭̽E̵͉͘ ̷̪̚G̴̼̈Ọ̶̑I̵̭͛Ṇ̵̎G̶̛̘ ̴͖͒Ạ̶͊Ǹ̸̹Ÿ̷͙W̴͎͝H̵̯̚E̷͇̍R̵͔͛Ȩ̴̓.̴͋"

Signal reached out, his arm elongating with a horrid schlurp sound as he went for Misa.

Raph created a hologram over himself, his usually red ninpo having turned that wretched shade of blue. Misa gasped in fear, the warmth she typically felt from such a magic was bone-chillingly cold.

"D̶̒ͅȌ̵͉ ̶̣̓Y̶̛̹O̸̪̍Ų̷̇ ̵͔̀Ĥ̶͙O̴̝͑N̴̢͘Ẹ̷͘Ș̵̕T̶̫̏L̵̻͋Ỵ̶̌ ̵̭̌Ţ̶̔H̷̨̐I̵̾ͅN̴̫͛K̴͕͠ ̵͔̎T̶̢̿H̵̭̽A̶͕̐Ṫ̵̬ ̶̢͝W̷͔̌I̷̞̒L̴̟̃L̴͓̉ ̸̯̓Ŝ̴̫T̵̩̎Ö̷͕́P̸̙̈ ̵̢̌M̸̨͌Ĕ̷͙?̴̩̊!̸̡͗" Signal screeched, laughing hysterically at the boy's attempts to fend him off.

Signal started ripping apart the holographic figure, only to discover that it had been a clone -- even the Misa in his hold was a duplicate, who shed a single tear as she dissolved.

The four heads turned back to see Raphael about to enter the room behind them. Waves screeched, flying at him with barred teeth and sharpened claws, his mystic powers creating an ebony black chain-whip within his hands.

Misa was off-limits.

Raphael opened the door. A flood of spores engulfed him, Misa, and Waves, who screamed in anger and fear as the spores filled him up, hollow as he was. He coughed and hacked and howled, holding his head in pain as he reeled backwards.

"WAVES!!" Static shouted, rushing forwards and grabbing his brother, holding him down.

Signal roared at Raph, eyes turning fully black and body disfiguring into a monster. Even Radio wouldn't dare hold him back after what that punk just did to Waves.

Raphael whimpered sadly as tears streaked down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he wept. "I had to."

Raphael closed the door behind him, taking Misa into the dark room.

Misa pressed her hands over her mouth and nose, trying desperately to keep the spores out.

It was so cold... it was practically freezing.

Misa's eyes didn't need to adjust to the darkness, she found that as soon as the exterior light was gone, the room provided its own light... neon blue, emanating from the many eyes and mushrooms in the enclosed space. It was so absolutely terrifying, every gaze fixated on her and burning blue. Misa did her best to keep her whimpers to herself.

"Don't try to fight it," Raph begged her, as he gently laid her down in a bed of toadstools and moss. "Just... just let it happen, okay? I know it will be scary, but once you give in to the fear, it's just like sleepwalking. You won't even know it's happened, at first. I promised you would be safe, and you will be... you must simply let go, and let the fear take over."

Small vines and roots began to wrap over her, closing in like a tiny cage, keeping her from running away.

Her eyes watered as the air around her closed in. She couldn't keep holding her breath like this! Her hands shook, her chest hurt, the carbon dioxide in her lungs was getting hot and stale.

Misa gasped.

The fungus-riddled air infected her lungs, she coughed and hacked at how chilled the oxygen was in her ribs. She screamed in protest, curling up inside of herself, ready for the birds to come and scratch her shell, peck at her eyes, grab her with their claws and talons and carry her away...

Nothing happened.

Misa looked up, slowly.

She... she was in the labs?

There was a heavy weight chafing her neck, causing irritation on the sensitive skin. She lifted her hand up and felt cold metal.

The linoleum room she was being held in had a glass wall, through which she could see everyone.

EVERYONE.

Mikey, Ra-Ra, Dee-Dee, Lee-Lee, that one robotic-looking Dee that had congratulated her on stealing the moneys, the ballerina Donnie she'd gotten the Lake Water for, all the grow-ed Leos with missing arms, Poptart and Sprout, cowboy versions and bunnies and dragons and beetles and --

EVERYONE.

Claire and Draxum -- the orchestrators of this whole terrible captivity -- walked through the halls, talking to each other and even laughing together. Draxum's vines were dragging a Mikey behind him carelessly, the body scraping across the floor. He was still alive, she could see him struggling against his captors and she could hear him crying. Claire turned to look at Misa as she passed by her cell.

"Oh, hello little thing! Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for leading me to all these funny friends of yours! Now they can all suffer the same fate as you..."

"No! NO! NO NO NO NONONONO--"

Misa sobbed, began slamming her tiny fists against the glass, begging Claire to release all her friends and families. Claire only chortled like a Disney villain, walking away with Draxum and dragging the poor Mikey along with them. Misa would not stop, she'd never stop fighting against this!! SHE WOULD NOT GIVE IN TO THE FEAR! She continued to pound her fists against the glass, screaming angrily at the hallucination that kept her prisoner.

"...Are you sure she won't suffer?" AudRaph asked, his hands wringing.

"Not unless she fights against the fear," AudreyTello answered flatly as he began to type on his wrist tech, starting the hack to contaminate the entire arena.

"She is still young, I suspect she won't know how to fight against it," AudRai added, as she walked over to the little prisoner to inspect her as she sobbed uncontrollably in her cell. "It shouldn't be much longer now."

"It doesn't matter much either way," MichelAudrelo interjected angrily as he examined the new scars on his arms. "If she gives in, she becomes one of us. If not... we can feed off her fear." He looked over at the last Hamato in the room, still held in place against the wall, eyes drowsily watching the rest as they spoke.

"Like him."

"He is one of us," AudreyTello corrected. "But he was the first, so he had to make the sacrifice and give the necessary nutrients for our true form."

"I sense apprehension from Raphael's form," MichelAudrelo noted, scowling. "You do not approve of our survival?"

"...Raphael does not want his brother to die," AudRaph explained. "He would rather they all stay alive. It is his weakness..."

"Unfortunately, to be as strong as we are now -- and to produce as many spores as we have -- we need a physical form to feed off of. So Leonardo stays where he is," AudreyTello explained. "You know this. Choke down that pathetic worm and don't let him speak again. It's irritating."

"He has some immunity, or tolerance to invading hive minds. You recall from his memories, he has dealt with it before."

"Ah, yes. Well, even he cannot stop us soon enough," AudreyTello said with a chuckle. "Karai, Michelangelo, you know what to do now."

The two zombies nodded, and together created an enormous flow of spores. AudreyTello typed in a final command on his wrist tech, and the air vents promptly popped open. The spores filled the ventilation system.

"Now, for a little announcement..."

Ghost had unofficially adopted two more kids. Abby, a cat mutant, with her big and bright personality, though her figure was small. She'd gotten injured during the preliminaries -- apparently she'd attempted some kind of extravagant musical number -- and had to use a crutch to hobble around for the past several weeks while it healed up. She'd only just recently been released from the med ward, along with her friend and protector Diana, the second adoptee. The two girls were laughing and making quite the ruckus as they danced around Ghost's cape.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to carry you?" Ghost asked, fretting over her injury.

"I'm fine!" Abby laughed, waving her hand as a dismissal. "I've been used to this for a while. No worries!"

"Besides --" Diana added, "-- she needs the exercise if she wants to get rid of the crutch as soon as possible--"

Diana was cut short by a sudden burst of light and a loud roaring whoosh. A wind picked up, and a spark ignited behind them as a portal opened.

rhg!Donnie wanted to hold his father close. He hated, absolutely despised how the other competitors are holding his attention. He, more than anything, he wanted to run over to where his father was and hold him close, sob into his chest like when he was so much younger and so much more naive and so much more innocent. He wanted to talk for hours, ask how Raph is, how Leo is doing, if Mikey is okay. He wanted to say absolutely nothing and just sit in his company. He couldn't decide what to do first, and it utterly galled him how open he was with everyone, how chummy they all were with him. How dare Cassandra hug him like that. How dare Kendra pretend to be cordial. It might have been selfish, but he wanted his Papa all to himself. He tried to get as close to dear Papa as he could without making it obvious. The last thing he needed was everyone thinking he was childish. But Atomo Grey opened the doors to the elevators and made a stupid joke about how "the District Twelve tributes will get to their apartment before we can even set foot into ours!" which only got one laugh from the escort as he ushered the competitors into the lift. rhg!Donatello slowly entered the elevator as the doors closed behind him...

The lights flickered, the people in the lift start to vanish one by one, thunder and wind ripped through the box and caused a horrible feeling of claustrophobia in rhg!Dee. rhg!Donatello nervously backed up against the wall, confused and scared. Was this a trick from the Capitol? Or the Gamemakers?? He wanted to shout for his Papa, shout for anyone, but the elevator was empty now and the lights had all gone out. A multicoloured portal opened at his feet, and rhg!Donnie was sucked in, shouting his protest.

rhg!Donnie landed on the floor for the second time this night. But rather than being pancaked by Cassandra Jones, he slid on his stomach and arrived at the feet of three odd strangers. A giant turtle mutt, a cat mutt, and a regular human girl.

"...Well, that was out of the blue..."

rhg!Donnie slowly backed away from the characters, taking in the strange scene around him. He needed to get back, he has to get back, if they find out he'd been portalled away or something then they'll punish his family --

Wait, he knew this place...

He's... back at the AU competition? The one with all the strange turtles and different versions of his brothers...?

But... he was sent back home... why was he here now?

The large middle-aged turtle mutant kneeled down next to him, his joints popping as he did. He inspected the teen, analyzing every little scratch and every major scar with worry. His silent inquisitiveness was starting to annoy him.

"Who are you?" rhg!Dee asked, passing paranoid glances between the trio before him.

"I'm Abby," said the cat, smiling as she offered him her hand to help him up. "This is Diana, my bff, and the big guy is called 'Ghost'! But I'm pretty sure he's a Donatello, hence the purple mask..."

Abby gestured to the tall turtle mutt mutant. He smiled, his white eyes hiding years of trauma and loneliness. rhg!Donnie recognized that loneliness. He'd seen it in his father's eyes. He's seen it in his own reflection.

"Hey there, kid," the 'Ghost' said, his voice low yet overpowering. "Are you alright?"

"I... how did I get here?"

"No clue, but -- wait, I recognize you!" Diana said suddenly. "You were part of the preliminaries, right? The Rise Hunger Games AU!"

"Y-yes, that's me," rhg!Donnie mumbled, shooing away Abby's hands as he stood up by himself.

"We were in the prelims, too!" Diana noted, pointing to herself and then Abby.

"Great. Congratulations."

"We didn't win our round, though..."

"How unfortunate for you," rhg!Donnie sighed as he looked around, getting his bearings. Something about this place seemed off... different now. Something had changed. There was fear amongst these halls, now... an unspoken chill in the air.

"I didn't win, either -- wait... I was sent back because I lost the preliminary round... so, why...?"

"Why weren't we sent back?" Abby finished. "Or... why were you returned?"

rhg!Donnie looked around anxiously.

"I don't know if it's mandatory to leave the contest once you lose a round," Ghost interjected. "But perhaps the Mods sent you home so you could get back to the contest without -- oh, you've got something on your head..."

rhg!Donnie started smacking the top of his head frantically, worried that it might be something dangerous sent by the Gamemakers. Mutated hornets, or a tracking device that would explode if he strayed too far....

Instead, a small note floated off of his cranium and landed at his feet. Somewhat embarrassed by his reaction, rhg!Donnie leaned down and inspected the note with caution.

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔! 𝚆𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙…

"What does that mean?" Abby asked as she read over rgh!Dee's shoulder.

"I'm... I'm not sure... who wrote this, who needs my help...? And what could I possibly have to do with --"

"Wait, did you hear that?" Ghost interrupted, having caught the echo of a garbled glitching noise from the speakers.

The lights suddenly shut off, as hundreds of unprepared contestants and supporters started yelling in a panic.

A tinny voice echoed over the intercom speakers.

"Hello everyone in the competition! It’s your new overlord, Audrey III!"

"That's Donnie's voice," Abbey noted nervously.

"But which Donnie?" Diana asked. "I don't know any Donatellos who go by the name Audrey III..."

"Well, obviously it isn't me or the big guy," Donatello noted, gesturing to Ghost. "But I don't like this --"

"Shh, kids, listen...!"

Ghost could hear a slight hissing sound. He wasn't sure where in the area it was coming from. It sounded like a gas leak, air slowly spilling into the room. It had to be from the vents. Where was the closest vent?? He searched the halls, and found one not too far away. A small cloud of electric blue was pouring out.

Without hesitation, Ghost grabbed the kids and started running.

"EVERYONE, CLEAR THE HALLS! THERE'S A GAS LEAK!"

People began screaming as they all ran in different directions, trying to get away.

“Don’t resist," the Donatello on the intercom said. "Or do, your fear is tastier that way.”

"WHAT THE HECK DOES THAT MEAN, OUR FEAR IS TASTIER?!" Diana shrieked. "WHAT IS GOING ON??"

"Do you see a fire alarm anywhere?" Ghost yelled over the panicked mob around them.

"Over there!" rhg!Donnie shouted, pointing to a small glass box on the wall ahead of them, a fire extinguisher by its side.

Ghost rushed over, pulled the alarm, and grabbed the extinguisher.

"What exactly do you expect to do with a fire extinguisher?!" rhg!Donatello shouted, finally wrestling himself free from the old man's hold.

Ghost wasn't sure, there weren’t any fires -- yet. But years of experience taught him to always be prepared.

He most certainly was not prepared for what happened next.

The vent covers were blown right off their panels, slamming into the walls across, or in some cases, a few contestants. Abby screamed in fright as she ducked, Diana ducking over her as well to shield her, and Ghost shielding the three teens together. Blue fog filled the halls, slowly covering the floors. A few contestants starting coughing and choking. Then the sobs. The screams. The weeping and wailing.

rhg!Donatello didn't know what was going on, but he could guess. The smoke must be drugged, he thought to himself, staring at the oddly coloured gas that started to cover the floors. Was this... was this the Capitol’s doing? Had they discovered his previous absence and this was their attempt to punish him? To capture this new dimension or realm or world or whatever it was, and use it for their Hunger Games?? But how?! How could they have followed him? He was portalled here alone, twice now, and when he was returned there had been no time passed in his world and no change in his appearance, so they could never have known... This must be something else.

Ghost lifted the girls up onto his shoulders before they could inhale the hallucinogen and began to run again, grabbing rhg!Donatello by the hand and dragging him along, effectively snapping him out of his shock.

A father who had been shielding his little "SweetPea" from the vent panels was on his hands and knees, gasping for air as his eyes widened and slowly turned blue. His daughter August kept begging him to get up, crying for her Papa. She started coughing, shaking, blue panic filling her eyes as she began to succumb to the gas as well. A Feral Leo had inhaled the gas and was starting to attack his brothers. A pair of finely-dressed Gemini twins were clutching onto each other, shaking violently as they pressed themselves into a corner, watching as the gas closed in on them... rhg!Donatello was horrified by it all. It felt too much like something that the Capital or the Gamemakers would do...

Ghost could see the panic on the teen's face. It was pure terror, pure fear. He was worried that maybe he'd inhaled some of the smoke... But his eyes weren't blue... so he must just be regular scared, not infected by whatever was happening now. Ghost had to find some place that would be safe from the vapour... but where?! What room wouldn't have ventilation??

A television screen on a single rolling stand zipped past him, an electric Donatello voice shouting over the mayhem in the room. A dial tone was playing from its speakers, as if a call had gone to voicemail.

"LEO? MIKEY? APRIL! WHY WON'T ANYONE PICK UP?!"

"Watch out!" Ghost yelled, grabbing the TV by its stand and lifting it up just before it could run over a convulsing body on the ground.

"WHOAH! HEY!! Put me down, I demand that you put me down this instant, this is no way to treat a creation of the great and late Hamato Donatello--!!"

"Oi, mate!" a voice shouted. A door opened, and a brightly-costumed punk-rock turtle with a guitar strapped across his back leaned out quickly. "In here!!"

Ghost flung himself, the kids, and the sentient television into the room as quickly as he could, the door slamming and locking behind them all.

The medical masks worked surprisingly well. They kept out the spores, in any case. DvD had been worried that they wouldn't be strong enough, they should find some gas masks or ventilators. He didn't want to take any chances, but with time running thin they had no choice. The Hand.PNG had assured them that the masks would work for the time being.

They made their way through the halls, DvD using a torch-light feature on his tech-bō and April using her phone to light the way. Mikey stumbled as he tiptoed along with them, tripping and falling to his knees, the blue spores clouding around his head. He froze, terrified that the airborne fungus was going to seep in somehow... through the mask, through his open and untreated wounds... He couldn't move. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he wanted to go home. But his limbs didn't listen to him. His head clouded over, his thoughts disappeared.

Fight, flight, freeze or fawn. He froze, vanishing into himself...

DvD stopped at the sound of Mikey's knees hitting the floor, turned around to see if he was alright. Michael had started shaking and whimpering, near-silent terrified chirps escaping from him. He was too weak to walk on his own. 'Phael was busy carrying the TNT, Leon the container of weird ninpo stuff. DvD could manage carrying the weightless teen...

"Micheal?" he whispered, coming over to him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

That was a stupid question. Of course he was not okay. The kid had literally died not ten minutes ago, and 15 minutes prior to that he'd used his mystic abilities to the max and run himself dry of all possible energy, as well as reopening his scars and losing a lot of blood as a result. And even before that, he'd given away some of his strength to help aid the swayed NFIF Donatello. Mikey had been run through the ringer, and it had barely been over an hour. It was no wonder he was shaking as much as he was, unable to pick himself back up.

"Would you like me to carry you?" DvD asked, rubbing circles onto his back.

Michael didn't answer, at least not verbally. After a pause he nodded softly, squeezing his eyes shut as the tremors continued. DvD turned around and kneeled in front of him, letting the box turtle slowly climb onto his back and drape his arms over his brother's shoulders. DvD slipped the boy's legs over his hips, making sure he was secure before standing back up.

"All good back there?"

He didn't answer.

"Michael?"

He gently nuzzled his face into DvD's shoulder.

"All good--" he rasped, coughing afterwards.

Right, his throat was raw from screaming and crying.

"Alright then. Let's get going."

DvD continued, catching up quite easily to his family (and the Hand.PNG). They were taking it slow, trying to remain inconspicuous as best as possible. They saw something glowing blue approaching, and the Hand.PNG warned them to get back, slip into a side hall and wait for them to pass.... The group turned off all their lights, watching in horror as a swayed Swanatello sluggishly meandered through the corridor, his face stained with glowing blue tears and his eyes matching the shade. Mikey stifled a gasp. He was horrified viewing first face he'd seen upon entering this whole competition now taken by the spores. He buried his face into DvD's neck and shoulder blades, trying not to cry.

"We may continue," the hand whispered once the zombie was gone.

They continued, searching for a place that would shield them from the zombies and the spores.

DvD passed by a small opening of the arena, an overturned box of cake pops crushed under the feet of panicked rioters and spored contestants. Mikey must've seen it; he gripped DvD's tear-soaked vest as tightly as he could manage. Which wasn't very tight. His fingers trembled and shook, the fabric constantly slipped through his meager grip. DvD could feel Mikey's heartbeat speeding up through his chest, the breaths coming in ragged and shaky as he started to hyperventilate.

"Michael?" DvD whispered. "What's wrong?"

Mikey couldn't answer. He tried, DvD could hear him try. Tiny squeaks and cracks in his voice as he attempted a response. In the end he pressed his face into DvD's neck, hiding his vision from the warzone they were traipsing through.

"Right, can't really talk... here, try this: tap once for yes, twice for no. Are you having a panic attack?"

Mikey tapped DvD's chest once.

Tap.

"I see. Is it... the spores? Did you inhale any?"

Tap. Tap.

"Hm. Is it just... being around them? Being surrounded by the spores?"

Tap.

"I see. I'm sorry. But I won't let anything happen to you, Michael, you can be sure of that. And you can tell me if anything's wrong, you know? I want to be able to help if you see Draxum again--"

Michael's face scrunched up as he leaned over DvD's shoulder to look him in the eye.

"W-what? What did you say?" he squeaked.

"I said -- oh. I said more than I meant to." DvD cleared his throat. "Yes, well... 'Phael might've told us that you'd been having dreams."

Michael's head snapped around to glare at 'Phael, who saw the look and immediately knew what it was for. He slowed his pace and nervously hid behind Leon.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"You can't really blame him for it, you were struggling and we couldn't understand why..."

Mikey sighed sadly, resting his head against DvD's back.

"Y-yeah... I know. S-so, wh-what else did he... say... ab-bout me...?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just that you'd been having visions and recurring nightmares since Karai showed up and that you'd seen everything that happened to you."

"Dang it, 'Phael," Mikey croaked. "I w-wish he'd just -- let ME tell you, y'know? I-I would've l-liked to... tell you myself..."

"I understand. But you should have told us before. I... I would have wanted to know. Even if it hurt me. I'd rather have known you and I could have helped each other, than us both stay hurting on our own..."

"...Wait, what else did 'Phael say?" Mikey asked, knowing exactly what DvD was hinting to.

"He may have mentioned the reasoning behind you keeping your secret..."

Mikey grumbled.

"Okay, now I really am gonna kill him--"

"No you're not," Donnie interjected. "He did what he felt was right."

"I understand... but... why do I have to be so weak and pathetic??" Mikey whined. "Why can't I just... take care o-of m-m-myself? I keep getting hu-hurt and I keep having to rely on everyone to s-s-save me. To protect m-me. I mean, look at me right n-now-w!"

"Physically I can't look at you, since you are on my back...."

DvD wasn't sure why Michael hoarsely chuckled at that. But he was glad the kid could laugh at anything currently.

"...But I understand what you're getting at. You aren't weak, Michael, you're surprisingly strong. To have been through what you've experienced, and to keep your innocence, your joy, your love for everyone, and your trust? That's not an easy feat. Even I can't say that I've retained that sort of strength."

"Emotionally unavailable bad boy..." Mikey joked.

"Exactly. But you aren't weak or pathetic; you've handled so much."

"But... shouldn't I be able to take care of myself? I don't want to keep being a burden to you guys. Is it always going to be like this? Me getting hurt, and you having to carry me home?" Mikey asked softly.

"...I don't know. Hopefully not the former, but I'll always be in favour of the latter."

DvD could feel Mikey smile through his mask, the corners of his mouth turning up as he nuzzled closer to his protective and loving older brother.

"...I'm so tired. I'd fall asleep if I wasn't in a panic-fueled state of adrenaline..."

"I bet. I promise you can sleep for as long as you want once this whole thing is over--"

"Quiet!" Leon snapped. "Someone's coming!!"

The group halted, pressing against the walls in any way they could. April extinguished her light.

"DvD!" she hissed. "Your tech-bō! Get the light off!"

"I'm trying," he hissed back. He was struggling to deactivate it, what with Mikey clinging onto his back and requiring DvD's arms to keep him supported.

A group of zombies approached them. They saw the light... They started running at them.

"Run!" Leon shouted.

The UIFY group darted away, DvD gripping onto Mikey as tightly as he could with one hand, and holding his tech-bō with the other.

"This way, lads!" 'Phael called out, directing them down a side hall that would have lead to an open area for new arrivals.

It lead to doom.

The group froze upon entering the arrival arena. It was swarmed.

"NOT GOOD!" Leon shouted. "Back up, back up, BACK UP!"

An army of swayed zombies started coming at them, each one smiling evilly as they all started chanting together...

"Feed me... feed me.... feed me!"

Mikey shrieked in terror as the zombies closed in on them from both sides.

"We're surrounded!" April yelled over the roar.

"Well, you stupid disembodied hand?!" Leon shouted. "What's your brilliant plan now?!"

"Don't worry," it said, though the quiver in its voice hinted that there was some small reason to worry. "It isn't meant to end this way..."

A shout rang out from above them, followed by two small explosions that cut the zombies off from the group. High up in the rafters, high above the smoke line, a teenage boy watched his handiwork.

"TAKE THAT, YOU STUPID MUTTS!!" he shouted.

"Nice Derry and Toms, kid!" Slider-Punk laughed, as he wrapped an arm around him and jumped down from the rafters, shooting a web that slowed their descent.

From behind the group, a door burst open. Out popped a familiar middle-aged Donatello, who reached forwards and grabbed the kids.

"GET IN, QUICK! That won't hold them back for long!!"

rhg!Donnie and Slider-Punk rushed inside the room after the UIFY group, slamming and bolting the door behind them. A few moments later, the door began to pound with zombies, the faint sound of their cries coming from beyond.

Leon gasped for air, but didn't dare rest before he could see where he was and who was in here.

It was quite an assortment of characters...

A human Donatello, a Donatello who was called "Ghost", spider-themed superhero versions of Donnie, Mikey, April, and Leo, a Cat mutant and her human friend, and... a giant computer with Donnie's face on it? Okay, weird...

"I'm assuming the lack of masks means that it is safe to breath in here?"

"It's safe," Spider-Shine said. "We blocked off the vents with our webs, and Omega an' Ghostie here helped build a makeshift air generator!"

"Is that everyone?" rhg!Donnie asked, short of breath as he examined the new arrivals to their little resistance.

"Yeah, it's just us," April gasped, pulling the mask from her face as she breathed in the clean air. "Dang, that was too close for comfort! Thanks for your help, uh... I'm guessing 'Donnie'?"

rhg!Donatello looked her over cautiously. She was used to that look, everyone who had ever met her after the mutation gave her that look. But what surprised her was how eerily familiar this Donatello was, despite being so entirely different. He really looked exactly like DvD... if DvD had ten fingers instead of six, dark curly hair and human skin, and was not quite so heavily built and muscular as the turtle mutant she knew. This one was a lot thinner, though he had muscle tone too. But he was mostly covered in scars and scrapes and... was that dried blood? She smiled nervously at him as she held out a hand.

"I'm April."

"...You would be, wouldn't you?"

He took her hand and shook it gently.

"You're not a turtle," he said, continuing to eye her over.

"Well, neither are you!" she chuckled anxiously.

He could tell she felt uncomfortable. He recognized the feeling, it was how he felt in the capitol and under the gaze of so many who cheered him on as he prepared to end a life. But this was different. He'd seen enough Aprils here to know they weren't supposed to be... not human. He could tell she hadn't been like this for too long, based on how she sort of hid herself, moved away from the others as if she couldn't tell she was one of them or a part of their group. The way she rubbed the fur on her arms, kept pressing her tongue against her miniature tusk and moving it around anxiously like a loose tooth that might fall out.

"...No kidding. Anyways, who are those guys?" he asked, tilting his head to look behind her at the others.

"I can answer that!" Abby said with a giggle as she skipped over to the teens panting on the floor. "This is the Until I Found You AU team! I met DvD here a few weeks prior to the prelims! And then again in the med ward while Mikey was being treated for hypoglycemia -- speaking of which, when was the last time you ate something? You're shaking pretty bad."

"I'm okay for the moment," Mikey gasped, trying to clear his throat. "But I should probably get something to eat while I can..."

"I've met them, too," Ghost said, as he came over and leaned over to the two orphan teens, reaching over to rub their heads affectionately. "I got them a pizza. How're you kids doing?"

Mikey smiled up at him. It was a weak smile, trying desperately to hide the red eyes and the tear stains on his mask, the sore and reopened wounds on his arms and the shakiness of his frail frame. Leo didn't try at all to mask his emotional state.

"Could be better," he griped.

"I imagine," Ghost sighed, bringing the two close and wrapping his cloak around them -- especially Mikey, who couldn't stop shivering. "Let's get some warm food in you, hmm?"

Mikey nodded, reaching up and asking to be carried. Ghost obliged, scooping the child into his arms and taking him to the other side of the room where there was a heater and a kitchenette, stocked with small snacks and a few easy-bake items. Leon followed after them, just like he had when they'd first met. rhg!Donnie followed after them, having caught sight of how small and frail this Mikey was, as well as the injuries on his arms...

Ghost took the tiny teen and laid him down on the couch by the fireplace. It was a much nicer lounge than the one they'd occupied previously. As mentioned, there was a mini kitchen and a decorative faux fireplace with a heater that warmed the room up quite nicely; and there were also more seating arrangements here than the other room. Mikey settled into the sofa comfortably, snuggling in with a wiggle and a giggle like he typically did. Leon scoffed at him, though he did so with a smile. Mikey always managed to find the positive and cheery moments in even the most dire of situations. Ghost grabbed a few blankets from a small basket in the corner and draped one over Leon, who smiled and nodded a quick 'thank you' at him. He went to tuck in Mikey when noticed his arms, which DvD had failed to re-wrap.

"...What happened here?" Ghost asked, gently taking Mikey's hands and lifting his forearms closer to his face. Mikey gently pulled them away.

"Just a little... um... m-m-mystic mishap," he chuckled. "It-it's alright... really!"

"I'm going to get the antiseptics," Ghost informed. "These should be bandaged. No sense in leaving them open to get infected."

"I can treat the wounds," a voice said from behind them, causing Leon to jump slightly. It was rhg!Donnie, already holding the first aid kit. "You can go get him something to eat instead."

"Alright then," Ghost consented, then turned back to Mikey. "But you will tell me how you got these, okay? If only so we can treat them properly."

Mikey swallowed nervously and nodded. Ghost stood with a soft grunt and walked over to the kitchen, getting warm snacks ready for the guests as rhg!Donnie kneeled by the sofa and started to rub disinfectant on the wounds. Mikey hissed at the touch.

"Ow! That stings," he whinged.

"That means it's working. Stop moving so much."

Mikey did as he was told. There was something about this Donnie that was... different, but familiar. He was overprotective of Mikey, he knew the feeling of someone playing mother hen. DvD acted like this a lot, especially after everything that happened with Draxum. He wondered what could have happened to his Mikey to make him want to protect him like this... the protective drive was the same, but the reactions were different. DvD was overly gentle with him. rhg!Donnie was firm and stern. Driven. Serious. He reminded him of DvD when they'd first met each other. Far too grown-up for their age, and with a determination that could kill you if you crossed them the wrong way.

rhg!Donnie was careful, but not entirely gentle. His rough and calloused hands were strict and commanding, no room for error or hesitance. Mikey winced as he took his wrist and turned it over a little too forcefully.

"Hey, careful!" Leon scolded.

"Do you want me to bandage him, or not? He has cuts all over his arms, I have to move him to get to them."

"Well, you could be a little more sympathetic with the guy!"

rhg!Donnie glared at Leon. He sighed.

"Sorry. I'll try to be more... sympathetic."

rhg!Donnie cleaned the wounds with a bit more grace than before. Mikey still whimpered and gasped in discomfort at the antibacterial and iodine.

"So, tell me... how did you get these?"

"M-m-mystic mishap," Mikey managed, coughing afterwards.

"Nice try," rhg!Donnie scoffed. "How'd you really get them?"

"What are you talking about?" Leon asked angrily. "It was mystic! He was using his magic powers too much and then--"

"Look, I'm not an idiot, I know that those scars were made by a knife, so I'm asking you, who cut your brother like this--"

"It happened a while ago," Mikey interrupted, forcing his voice to be a little louder so rhg!Donnie could hear him properly. Even still, it was low and raspy and the effort made him cough and hack profusely afterwards. Leon immediately rushed to the sink and got him some water. Mikey downed the cup, choking for a half second and spilling some of the tap water on his shirt.

"Sorry, sorry... I'm okay, I'm...!"

"It's okay, Mike, it's only water," Leon said, clapping his hand on his little brother's back to help him. "Just chillax for a sec, let your voice come back, okay? I'll do the talking."

Mikey nodded as he continued to slurp down the water.

"Anyways, Mikey here was sorta kidnapped not too long ago and experimented on -- geez, are you okay?" he asked, grimacing at the human sitting across from him.

rhg!Donnie had gone awfully pale, his eyes wide and glazed over with panic.

"...Fine," he mumbled. "Go on."

"Uh... yeah... anyways, Mike was kidnapped by Draxum -- do you have a Draxum in your universe? Ah, whatever, he was kidnapped by a bad dude and this bad dude did bad dude evil scientist stuff to Mikey and that's where he got the scars from. But that was like, weeks ago. Mikey accidentally reopened his wounds when his ninpo went into overdrive--"

"His what?" rhg!Donnie asked.

"His ninpo... y'know, like magic?"

"I said not to lie to me--!"

"They're not lying," Ghost said, standing over them with a tray of hot chocolate and some cookies. "I should've realized this sooner, but I'm guessing that since you're human that means you don't have any mutants or magic in your world," he said as he gently ruffled the teen's hair. rhg!Donnie shooed the affection away, suspicious of ulterior motives. Ghost sighed and continued.

"These kids come from a universe where their family has special abilities, mystic powers that are unique to them. And sometimes, using those powers too much have... unforeseen consequences," Ghost noted, taking Mikey's hand once again and looking at the wounds.

Michael nodded sadly. Ghost smiled and placed the warm mug into his hand.

"Just be careful next time, okay kid?" he asked, rubbing his head to assure him he wasn't mad, only concerned.

"...Very well, then," rhg!Donnie exhaled, finally admitting defeat. "In that case, I'm not sure I know how to tend to 'mystic' injuries."

"I got it," Ghost volunteered, searching in the first aid for anything especially sparkly or glowing. That would be a good sign. After some rummaging, he managed to procure some mystic cream and began to salve the cuts and sores.

rhg!Donnie watched with interest and concern. He studied the label for future reference. He memorized the patterns in which Ghost anointed the child. He took internal photographs of the angles and shapes of Mikey's scars... and prayed that he would never have to see them on his baby brother back home. He had been concerned that this was the same Mikey he'd met earlier... they looked very much alike upon first glance. But after closer inspection, he saw that they had some differences. The scars were obvious. But this one was younger, and much smaller. Not just shorter, but skinnier too. He looked a lot like his brother in that sense. As for the Leon beside him -- the one that kept giving rhg!Donnie dirty side glances -- he looked like his twin brother. Except bald. No sign of the beautiful and soft hair that rhg!Dee used to braid and style for him before he'd left. He was frightfully thin, too. A thick scarf surrounded his neck to help insulate the miniscule amount of warmth his body could provide. rhg!Donnie happened to glance over at him when he didn't expect it, and saw him pocket a few extra medical supplies, subconsciously stuffing them into his pants. There were quite a few things already in his pockets, rhg!Dee realized. This kid was a thief. Not that it bothered him, he and his Leo had been sneaky like that on more than one occasion. District 4 wasn't a very generous place to live.

rhg!Donnie found himself reaching for his hand the next time he went to snatch something. Not so much to stop him as to simply just... hold something that was so similar to his brother. He knew he wouldn't get a chance like this again for a long time. If ever. It might be stupid, but for a moment he wanted to pretend that this was his Leo. It worked for half a moment, he could almost see his brother here in the room with him.

Leon turned to him as he grabbed his hand, wide-eyed in surprise before realizing that he'd been caught.

"Oh... Old habits die hard, I guess," he explained, sheepishly dropping the tube of ointment he'd taken.

"Next time, try it like this," rhg!Donnie whispered, showing him how to take the tube with better efficiency, while simultaneously distracting the victim while you repurposed their possessions. But he got the feeling this teen already knew all the tricks of the trade.

Leon smiled weakly at him.

"Thanks, but... well, there's not really supposed to be a 'next time'," he explained, while looking back at DvD and 'Phael. "I kinda have a family now... and a home."

"Congratulations," rhg!Donnie said, hoping the genuine delight that this Leon had his family all around him came through, despite the monotonous tone in his voice.

"The kleptomania just sorta... flares up when I'm stressed," he mumbled. "When I feel like I'm not safe. I take stuff so I can pretend that I have everything I might need in an emergency." He laughed as he pulled out all the band-aids and alcohol wipes and gauze from his pockets. "I don't even know what I'd do with half of this stuff!"

"It's better to have most of this than not," rhg!Donnie mentioned, taking half of the pile and stuffing them into his own pockets, despite knowing that if he were to be portalled home again the items wouldn't be going with him. "Just in case..."

DvD had strolled right up to the giant tv screen in the room with a 2D icon of his face... or rather, a face greatly resembling his.

The icon looked down at him, it made an expression. It looked skeptical of him. It could express emotions, and could have thoughts. It must be an AI.

"How fascinating..." DvD murmured, looking the screen over. "What kind of CPU do you run on...?"

"That is classified information," the voice responded. And as flat-toned as most Donatellos tended to be, this one had actual emotion in its voice! It sounded just like him.

"What kind of program are you? You operate like a mimicry program, copying expressions and reactions..." he poked around behind the screen, investigating a few wires and buttons. "What's back here--"

"HEY NOW!" the AI reeled, two mechanical arms grabbing DvD's wrists and pulling him away as the screen moved back on its tiny little wheelie stand. "Hands to yourself, thank you very much!"

DvD's eyes widened. This was much more than a simple AI...

"What... who are you?" he asked.

"My name is OMEGA BOOTYYYSHAKER9000. Most people simply refer to me as 'Omega'. I am a replica of Hamato Donatello."

"Replica..." DvD looked the screen over as his brain pieced together the information. "...Oh."

This was always Omega's least favourite part of the competition, when the younger versions of his family understood that the future was not only unkind, but in most cases it took more than it gave.

"...Well, at the very least, you have achieved the perfect form -- man and machine, finally as one!" DvD said with a grin.

"You sound like Leonardo."

"You take that slander back."

Omega chuckled. When his Leo had first met him, he'd said something almost exactly like that...

"Do you think... do you think that this will be my fate?" DvD asked cautiously, as he continued to inspect the replica. "I've met a few older versions of myself in this competition. One was a demon-void-thing. One is tending to my brother now. I know better than to alter the course of time, I wouldn't dream of... well. But I'd like to know the probabilities, weigh out the outcomes and prepare myself mentally."

"You want to know if... you might end up as a digital duplicate?" Omega asked nervously.

"Only the statistical probability of it happening."

Omega wasn't sure about this. Yes, this teenager seemed highly intelligent and had an iron-clad determination, but he knew better than to actually tell him the truth. For whatever reason -- perhaps his own insatiable curiosity and need to know the outcome and 'create a fix' -- he crunched the numbers. He ran the simulation to test his theory. He knew the outcome of their storyline. And he was right, there was no real benefit to tell him the truth of his future... There was no benefit to telling him how -- in the wrong timeline -- his brother Leon would be the first to go, sacrificing himself to save the others during the first few years of the invasion. And Mikey would follow some time after, his hypoglycemia becoming too much of a strain for his body in a society where food was scarce and rations were slim. There was no point in telling him of the pain that he and 'Phael would bear, caring for the lone orphan son of their late comrade Cassandra Jones. No point in DvD knowing that he would be the one to invent time travel, only to use the machine once -- to send his surrogate nephew into the past to remedy everything. Omega smiled at him, keeping the simulation to himself.

"...Who can say what will happen next?"

'Phael looked in awe at the spider-themed teens in the corner who all jibbered and jabbered away. He was a little too nervous to actually approach them. They were superheroes, weren't they? He'd seen how superheroes looked in the movies! And these blokes looked just like 'em. But 'Phael's social anxiety started kicking into high gear, he fidgeted with his hands, picking at the fingernails which he'd nibbled down to stubs. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he tried not to think about what they were thinking about, which was probably him and about how embarrassing he was --

One of the spider-teetlez turned to look at him. Oh no. OH HEADS NO, he caught him staring. He stared back. OH HEADS. The spider kid smiled and skipped over to him, his hair bouncing with each and every step.

"Hey there, big guy! You okay?"

"Oh, uh, s-sure!" 'Phael mumbled nervously. "W-w-why wouldn't I be?"

"Oi, is that another Brit I hear!?"

'Phael jumped suddenly as the blue and red turtle that had helped them in the halls immediately pounced at him, wrapping an arm around his neck with a great big smile.

"I was 'bout to lose hope for this Johnny Horner, I thought the entire arena was filled with yanks!"

"Uh heh, yeh," 'Phael chuckled, thinking maybe this wasn't the best time to tell him he technically was a 'Yank', having been born and raised in the Colonies. He was just brought up around folks with British accents...

"Hey, lads (and April)! Come 'ere, I wanna introduce ya to one of the dustbin lids that just arrived! This here is a BRITISH RAPHAEL!"

'Phael smiled nervously as he was passed around from hero to hero -- and they all were very nice and friendly, if not a bit intimidating. But then again, everyone was intimidating to him.

Everyone had gathered in the center of the room, squeezing together on the couches and sofas and ottomans and even one rocking chair. Now that everyone had introduced themselves, and Mikey had been taken care of -- his arms rebandaged and his stomach filled with tea and cookies -- it was time to come up with a plan of action.

There wasn't much time left...

End of Act 1

Act 2

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bruggle · 7 months ago

Text

Behold!

The Rip-out-your-heart-inator!

At least, that's the goal. Dunno if I achieved it. Have fun, chilren.

Glowing

The past is a haunting thing. But what else can it do in the present except try to hurt you?

Words: 3k

"A moon of light reflecting fully

And I guess it would feel like rebirth

Out of some kind of dying

To see yourself

So glowing."

-Glowing, The Oh Hellos

Carnage.

Destruction.

Death.

How much was caused by him?

Everywhere X looked, that’s all he saw. Omega, within the massive suit Weil had created in order to enhance his ability to control reploids while fused with the Dark Elf, sat prone; too heavily damaged to even move. X glowered; he didn’t even bother trying to fight it back. There were few people X could say he truly hated. Omega had the ‘honor’ of being one of them.

A part of X wanted to end the doppelganger right then and there. To hell with mercy. To hell with restraint.

X tore his gaze from the giant reploid. He had to find his brothers. Axl had disappeared early in the fight; swallowed by the sea of controlled reploids that had appeared the second Weil had integrated the Dark Elf. Zero… Zero had faced Omega alone for the first part of the battle as X struggled to beat back Weil’s army of golems. He wasn’t sure where the red clad reploid had gone once the white reploid had set his sights on X. Please don’t let them be dead.

There were… so many bodies.

So many.

None of them deserved it.

Of the few reploids still standing, none of them were familiar. They all ducked their gaze once they realized X was looking at them. No. He kept moving. Surely, Axl would appear with yet another poorly timed joke, as he was wont to do. Or… or Zero would join his side without a word, silently giving his support. Please. Please.

As X wandered the battleground, he noticed a group of reploids standing in a circle; their grave expression sent a pulse of panic through his systems. No. He picked up the pace, making a beeline towards them. No. As X grew closer, one of the reploids noticed his presence, a horrified expression making it’s home on his face. No. More took notice of the blue bomber’s appearance; beginning to whisper amongst themselves. No. “Wait-“ one of them called, but X ignored them; stumbling closer to the object they were encircling. Why did it look familiar?! Pushing a purple clad reploid out of the way, it took everything for X to not break right there and then.

The figure on the ground was clad in navy armor with grey and red accents.

The inset blue gem was destroyed.

The helmet was gone, allowing red hair to hang loosely around his face.

Sightless green eyes stared back at him.

X fell to the floor, gathering Axl’s limp body into his arms. “No, no, no,” he repeated softly to himself, over and over and over and over again. It was unnatural to see the normally hyperactive reploid so still. X refused to look at the missing arm and legs, focusing on the prototype’s face. Axl’s body was shaking or was that just his own arms shaking? as X hugged him closer. He was- X shut that thought down, choosing to instead bury his face in Axl’s hair. “You’re okay,” he whispered, clenching his eyes closed. “It’s over. Wake- wake up, Axl. C’mon, this joke isn’t funny anymore.”

The surrounding reploids looked around at each other, searching for the correct words to say. X didn’t care. Where was Zero? Why wasn’t Axl waking up?! “Sir,” one of the reploids hesitantly spoke up. “I don’t think-“

“Shut up,” X demanded, snarled, begged.

Don’t tell me, he silently prayed. He has to be okay.

Where was Zero?!

A sudden wetness on his cheeks made X slowly reopen his eyes. Had it started raining? Looking up, the skies were still clear it didn’t fit it didn’t fit it didn’t fit it didn’t fit it didn’t fit causing X to slowly bring a hand to his face. Pulling it away, it was definitely wet; he had almost forgotten he could cry. The reploid that had been brave enough to speak gave him an odd look. They couldn’t. Of course they couldn’t.

Anger.

Rage.

Pain.

Why was there so much pain?!

Gently cradling his brother’s body to his chest, X slowly stood up. He knew. Axl was dead. And it was his fault. X never should have allowed him to become a Maverick Hunter. Turning, he made his way back to the center of the battleground; passing the giant, motionless heap yet again.

He had never wanted to utterly destroy Sigma as much as he wanted to destroy Omega.

Why not? asked a voice. Why not destroy it now?

It was there that X noticed a new face, one completely unmarked by the horrors all the other survivors witnessed. Her eyes were darting over the wasted landscape, until they landed on him. Recognition lit up her face, as she hurriedly made her way to him, carefully picking her path in order to avoid the worst of the… viscera.

“Mister X!” she called. “I was- I was sent by Isaac! You’re needed!” X brushed past her, he didn’t care. Isaac could go to hell for all he cared at the moment. “Mister X, please-“

“Tell him I’m busy,” X ordered growled, seethed, snapped.

“Oh, but Mister X, it’s an emergency!” the reploid insisted. “There’s been bombs set off and-“

“ENOUGH,” X boomed. He didn’t need to hear it. He had heard them going off as Omega had fallen, Weil cackling in the background. The reploid shrank back, fear flickering in her eyes for a second. It was then that she seemingly noticed the limp form he held tightly to his chest. “O-oh…” she whispered, franticly looking around before darting off.

Good.

Great.

Why wasn’t Zero here?

Ventilation system working overtime, X turned back around. He gently laid Axl on the ground, searching his face one last time in a desperate, desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll blink. Ask X what the long face is for. Laugh. Wink. Punch his arm. Something. Anything. Please.

But he knew.

He knew.

He fucking knew.

And so, with a heavy heart, X gently closed the prototype’s eyes one

Last

Time.

His tears gently landed on Axl’s face, giving the illusion that it was he who was crying, rather than X.

What was he supposed to do now?

The thought of making a grave passed X’s mind, but he didn’t want to entertain it.

That would mean Weil won.

That Axl was dead.

He didn’t want

He didn’t want to think about it.

The sound of footsteps alerted him to an approaching figure.

Too urgent, too heavy, too quick to be Zero.

Glancing at the figure, X didn’t recognize him; but he very obviously recognized the blue bomber. Making a straight beeline to X’s location, the new figure saluted him. X didn’t respond, causing the figure to falter for a second. “Sir, I’ve been sent with a message,” he said in a clipped manner.

X didn’t respond.

The figure hesitated.

“Sir, Maverick Hunter HQ-“

“Don’t,” he commanded. He begged. He raged. He pleaded. He cursed. He whispered. He screamed. What was he supposed to do?

No, no, no, please, no. Weil had already taken so much; please, please, don’t tell him the monster had taken more.

The messenger stood awkwardly, struggling to figure out what to do next. It was pretty obvious that the poor figure was likely pulled from the streets in order to deliver the message to X. A message he didn’t want to hear.

He didn’t want to hear.

He didn’t

He didn’t want

He didn’t want to hear.

“He needs to pay for his crimes!”

“But there’s so few left! Are we really going to throw away a brilliant mind?!”

“Are you out of your mind?! He’s the reason everything went to shit in the first place!”

It was all so… meaningless.

The squabbling, the yelling, the arguments, meaningless.

He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill them both.

Isaac glanced over to X, concern written on his face. X didn’t care. It was all meaningless.

After a handful of reploids none of them familiar. Why were none of them familiar? were finally able to tear X away from his position kneeling over Axl’s body, Isaac had carefully, gently explained that Zero had sealed himself away; claiming fault for everything that happened. After all, he had been the source of the virus. The Dark Elf. Omega himself. It was all his fault.

X should hate him.

He really should.

But he had already lost one brother.

Why did he have to lose both.

And now, here he was. The last dregs of society demanding him to figure out what to do with Omega. With Weil. X couldn’t bring himself to even look at them. He just wanted them out of his sight. The large, white reploid still sat prone, completely worthless without its’ master to command it. Pathetic. He could almost bring up pity for the thing.

But not quite.

Weil, on the other hand, had a smug look despite half his face being covered. Prevented from speaking, he was completely at the mercy of X.

He wasn’t feeling very merciful.

It scared him.

Why, that voice asked. He’s taken everything from you.

“Enough,” X called, his patience growing thin. He just wanted them out of his sight. “There is no way to remove Omega from the suit. Not without destroying it, but there is no way to know for sure if… Weil has any sort of backup plans for that.” He had certainly had a plan to make sure nobody won if he didn’t. The doctor narrowing his eyes told X he was right on the money. He glowered down at the human. “Launch it into space,” he ordered. “It won’t be of any use where Weil cannot reach it.” The people officiating the trial glanced at each other, whispering amongst themselves. The moon had served as an adequate prison for Sigma; X hoped the same would be true of the doppelganger.

“What of Weil?” asked one brave individual.

“Toss him out of Neo Arcadia,” X demanded snarled. “I don’t care how.” He had to leave. He would do something he’d regret if he didn’t. Turning, X made his way off the podium. Isaac followed after, trying desperately to speak to him.

X ignored him.

It was all so meaningless.

Ciel helped.

But not by much.

It still hurt.

The Dark Elf’s reappearance had made him panic.

Was Weil back?

If he is, kill him.

The thoughts were getting louder.

He was slowly becoming a danger.

It scared him.

Thus, he had come to the conclusion that for the sake of everyone, he needed to seal himself away. Just as Zero did all those years ago. The Dark Elf… She had rejected the notion of fusing with X. Quite violently, in fact. But alas, his will, his anger, his agony, it was greater than her rejection. She had fallen silent once fully fused.

But it had taken it’s toll.

He was so tired.

He let himself rest.

It wasn’t so bad, simply existing in a void…

X awoke in a panic.

Greedily gulping down oxygen, he put a hand to his head. Hair. Real hair. Not the synthetic hair he was used to. He pulled it away, studying his fingers. Scars littered the hand; not from fights, not from war, not from weapons. These were all from forgetting where they were while cutting vegetables. That touching hot pans was not a good idea. A misplaced needle while fixing up a garment. Peaceful scars.

He had never been so relieved to see a scar before.

He had to take a moment to remind himself that he was no longer back there.

He was no longer a leader. Well, outside of being head of his little mishmash of a family.

He was just X.

Just as he always wished he could be.

Just as he always should have been.

The cry of a gull pulled him from his musings, causing him to glance at the clock by his bed. It was quite early; he still had an hour or so before the sun even began to rise. But the thought of trying to sleep after… that made his stomach turn. He was awake, whether he liked it or not. It was far too early to start breakfast, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go out into the kitchen.

Barrell had gotten him addicted to coffee, after all.

Quietly making his way out of the kitchen, he turned on one of the lamps rather than the overhead lights. Levi was rather sensitive to light and had the habit of leaving her door open while she slept. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up any of the inhabitants. (Could you blame him for wanting at least a little bit of peace to himself? Eight people in a single house boat was quite the number, after all!) X made his way to the cabinet he knew held the caffeinated drink he craved; making sure to open it just right. (The darn thing squeaked if opened too quickly; he and Barrell were still trying to figure out why.)

Just as he grabbed the bag of grounds, the sound of footsteps caught his attention. X inwardly groaned; he had been so careful not to wake anyone…

“What are you doing up, dad?” asked Volnutt, his youngest. The younger carbon was rubbing at his eyes, telling X he had indeed just woken up.

“Couldn’t sleep,” X quietly sighed. “Now why are you up, young man?”

“Bathroom,” Volnutt yawned. “But I heard something, so I came to check it out.” X chuckled quietly to himself. “It’s just me,” he assured the brunette. “No need to worry. Go take care of business and get back to bed.” Volnutt blinked blearily at him, before turning to do as he was told.

Shaking his head, X prepared his coffee as quietly as he could. Filling the pot with water to pour into the chamber, placing a filter into its place, filling said filter with grounds, now all that was left was for the machine to warm up. The older carbon looked around for something to occupy the time.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much in the kitchen. And he didn’t want to go walking around in fear of waking any more of the inhabitants.

The flush of the toilet grabbed X’s attention; he waited for the sound of running water to accompany it.

It did not occur.

That boy…

As Volnutt opened the door, X glared at him. “What?” he sleepily asked.

“You did not wash your hands, young man,” X accused, crossing his arms.

“Ah, crap,” Volnutt muttered. “Forgot.” He made the decision to walk back to his room regardless. X stared after him incredulously. “Excuse me,” the older carbon huffed. “Go wash your hands, Volnutt!”

“But daaaaaad!” Volnutt winged. “’M tired! And you said go back to bed!”

“You can go back to bed after you wash your hands!” Honestly, this boy…

Volnutt let out a scoff, but obediently turned and did as he was told. X shook his head as he chuckled at the boy’s dramatics.

He would rather have to get onto this child about washing his hands every time than spend one more second back there.

Now why wasn’t the coffee maker heating up?

As X studied the machine in an effort to figure out the reason (surely he wouldn’t be bested by a silly little machine like this!), Volnutt walked into the kitchen. X was tempted to tease him about no longer being tired, but he was far more interested in figuring out why the blasted mechanism wouldn’t give him his caffeine.

“Uh, dad?” Volnutt quietly called. X turned to him, seeing him point to a spot on the wall. The older carbon turned to see that he was pointing at an outlet.

An empty outlet.

Meaning the coffee maker wasn’t plugged in.

Well that explained it.

Huh. He was more tired than he thought.

X couldn’t help but laugh at himself, causing Volnutt to chuckle alongside him. The older brunette shook his head as he quickly plugged in the machine. Now it was making the familiar sounds of heating up. “Are you okay, dad?” Volnutt asked, genuine concern lacing every word. X gazed at his youngest, soft sigh escaping him. “Just a nightmare,” he assured the fourteen year-old. Volnutt tilted his head. “You want to talk about it?” he asked. “You always tell me that it helps.”

The former blue bomber gave his youngest a fond smile.

What had he done to deserve this child? He didn’t deserve him.

“I’ll be okay,” X insisted. “Maybe when your older, we can talk about it.” Volnutt’s face fell; X hated doing this to him, but the child had no business knowing the horrors he had been through.

He will be dead in the ground before he lets even an ounce of his past touch this child.

“What’s all the noise about?” yawned Leviathan as she blearily entered the room. “I’m trying to get my beauty sleep.”

Oops. X supposed they had been a bit too loud.

“Sorry Levi,” said Volnutt, a cheeky grin forming on his face.

Oh no.

“You definitely need it.”

Oh no.

“WHY YOU-“

“Children!” X hissed. “It is still early! Do not wake the house!”

“Is that coffee I smell?” asked Barrell, slowly making his way out of the room. X let out a defeated sigh. So much for his peaceful morning…

“HEY!” Roll called from her room. “Some people are trying to sleep!”

“Take your own advice!” Fefnir yelled from down the hall.

“Why don’t you?” argued Harpuia.

“Man, you’re all so noisy,” chuckled Phantom, slinking into the kitchen from an open window. “Couldn’t be me.”

“As if!” Volnutt argued. “You were stomping on the roof of my room all night!”

“Prove it,” Phantom smirked.

Watching the chaos unfold, X poured himself and Barrell a cup of coffee.

He wouldn’t trade this for anything.

The past was the past.

And it would stay that way.

#be quiet bruggle #writing #mmx x #x centric #musings on the results of the elfwars #one shot #legends reborn #angst muahahaha

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anxiously-going · 17 days ago

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Venom

A draft from my AU in which Bones has a little sister that was assigned to the Enterprise as part of an apprenticeship program because Pike thinks he's funny (he's correct). Pike is also alive in this AU because I refuse to let him go. Takes place post Into Darkness.

It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic meeting to begin negotiations for bringing another planet into the Federation, but things are rarely so simple when Jim is around and what should be a straight forward mission for Paige McCoy's first ground mission quickly becomes a life or death situation.

"Captain!" Paige darted to Jim's side when he began wheezing.

He reached out for her, eyes wide in recognition of what was happening. "Paige-" he tried coughing, but couldn't seem to move the air either way.

"What's happening?" Governor asked.

"He's having an allergic reaction," Paige explained. "Lie down for me, Cap," she ordered and carefully knocked Jim's feet out from under him before he could comply. Once he was down, she quickly took the epipen from his pocket and jabbed him the thigh, causing him cry out. "I know, but it's gonna help," she muttered, massaging the injection point to work the medication into his system.

"What can we do?" He asked and knelt by the doctor and her patient.

"If you have portable oxygen-"

He nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

She pulled open the collar of his uniform open and turned him on his side. He slipped into the familiar recovery position with ease. "Deep breaths now," she advised massaging between his shoulders.

"Supposed to buy me dinner first," he teased, now that he could breathe.

"Shut up! McCoy to Enterprise," she snapped into her communicator.

"We read you."

"I need-" She stopped and swore violently when Jim's eyes suddenly began wheezing, as his airways suddenly closed off again.

His eyes went wide and reached out to the familiar medical blue clad arm.

"Dammit, Jim, you are not gonna die on me!" She snarled and stabbed him with a second hypo. "Get Dr. McCoy with a full medkit down here now!" She ordered to crewmen still listening in. "Tell him the Captain is having a secondary reaction. Epi is ineffective!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Paige carefully pushed him onto his back. "Hang on for me-"

"Called me Jim," he wheezed and seemed to be trying to smile. It might have been endearing if not for bright red splotches taking over his neck and face.

"I did not!" Paige tilted his head back, trying to manually open his airways. She reached for her tricorder and waved it over his chest and face. She swore at the results.

"Paige-" He tried to lift his head to look at her.

"It's gonna be okay. Just keep your head back for me, alright? I put it there for a reason!"

"Dr. McCoy!"

She glanced up to find the Governor running forward with a young man, carrying what looked like an albuterol machine. "That'll work." Snatched the device. "This may be even better," she mumbled when a quick scan of the medication confirmed her suspicion. "Thank you." She had just got the machine going and placed the the mask over his face when Leonard materialized a few feet away.

"What happened?" He demanded, running to his Captain's side. Paige tossed him the tricorder and tore the medkit from his hands.

His eyes went wide. "You're sure about this?"

"You're welcome to double check." She answered as she dug through the kit. "Alright, Cap, just a couple more shots. Hold still for me, alright?" She pressed a hypo to his neck, causing him to flinch. "I know, one more," she soothed, reflexively rubbing the are with her thumb while she dug out the last medication.

She stabbed him for a third time in the thigh. He arched his back, inhaling sharply as the air from the mask finally entered fully into his lungs. "There ya go," she soothed. "You're gonna be alright now. Nice slow breathes for me, alright?"

Jim gave her a weak thumbs up.

"Good work, Dr. McCoy," Leonard nodded and patted her on the shoulder. "The antidote is working. So's the epi now that the venom's been neutralized. It was a good call doing that first."

"Antidote?" Govenor demanded in confusion. "Venom?"

"Captain Kirk had an allergic reaction to a venom-"

Govenor's eyes went wide. "Dr. McCoy-"

"No one is accusing anyone of anything, Govenor." Dr. McCoy held out a placating hand. "We recognize that things that are safe for your species may not be safe for ours. Mistakes happen. I would like to get Captain Kirk up to the Enterprise to finish treatment and make sure he stays stable. Commander Spock is more than capable of continuing the negotiation discussions."

"Yes, of course," Governor nodded. "With the Captain's permission I should also like a copy of his medical report regarding this incident. If it was intentional, we will be doing an investigation. We will also be testing the drink presented to him, if you wish a sample can be sent to your ship as well.

Len glanced at Jim who was nearly unconscious from exhaustion. "I'll talk to him," he nodded. "I have a feeling Commander Spock will request our own tests be done, for the sake of being thorough."

"Of course," he agreed. "It's no offense to us."

---

"You're the only pinhead I know that's been at risk of dying from an allergic reaction to venom over the venom itself," Paige grumbled when she received the alert that the Captain was awake. She let out a breath. "How ya feelin'?"

Jim chuckled. "Like I clipped into another reality. We sure the transporter worked right, Bones?"

Paige rolled her eyes. "Len figured I'd had enough action for the day. Left me up here to babysit you while he and Spock are taking care of things planet side."

"What's damage?"

"Well, the good news is that the Governor wasn't trying to poison you. He still wants to work with us and bring the planet into the Federation. The bad news is someone was trying to poison him. They've already got an investigation going into that, which he insists we don't need to worry about stating 'we've caused you enough trouble as it is'. So naturally Spock offered to help anyway as speeding up their investigation is more time effective at being able to induct the planet yadda yadda yadda." She waved her hand dismissively. "Y-you know how he can be."

Jim snorted. "Now you're really acting like your brother." He reached out and Paige gave him her hand. "Thanks for saving my life, Little Bones."

"That is what you pay me to do. And I worked hard to keep you alive, I don't wanna have wasted all that time and effort, so maybe next time be careful about what you're eating, okay?"

"How thoughtful," he snorted. "Believe me, I know exactly how hard you were working. Probably have bruises from all those epi shots you jabbed me with."

Paige shook her head. "I used the regen while you were out to clear those up."

"Thanks." He pressed the back of his free hand to his mouth and tried to stifle a yawn.

"Get some rest, Captain," Paige said and patted his hand. "You've had a long day."

He mustered up smile, despite the disappointment settling into his chest at the use of his title. "Sure thing, Dr. McCoy. Thanks for takin' care of me."

---

"Can't sleep, Dr. McCoy?"

Paige glanced up from her PADD. "Who let you out of medbay?" She scowled.

"That's really getting to be weird," he chuckled and joined her on the couch. "Bones let me out on the understanding, I'd be coming to see you."

Paige frowned.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier when I got excited about you using my name," he said simply. "It is...something that's important to me, y'know, we're going to be working together a lot. I wanna know...that you're comfortable with me and I know you said before about not wanting to seem insincere and all that. But, I dunno, I was hoping that maybe we were getting there and then you called 'Captain' before you left and..." he shook his head. "I wanted to make sure we were okay."

Paige sat quietly a moment, trying to decide her next words. "I trust you," she started. "But...the fact of the matter is that I haven't had a lot of safe authority figures in my life," she glanced up at him, "and like it or not you are an authority. You're a captain and beyond that your my captain. You have that direct authority over me now more than ever. And it's going to take time for me to...figure out turning that off and on. For a few minutes this afternoon, you weren't my captain. You were my patient. You were someone important to the people I care about. Don't get all smug about this, but you were someone I cared about." She shrugged. "Then we got back on the ship and I knew you were gonna be okay and...the chain of command kinda fell back around me. It's not you as a person I'm uncomfortable with, it's the authority you hold over me as a direct result of our positions in the Fleet."

"That actually makes a lot of sense," he nodded. He arched a brow, cocking his head to one side. "Not quite what I thought Bones meant when he said you had about as much of a problem with authority as me, but. It does make sense. And just to clear the air, I don't take it personally. I probably would have had the same problem with Pike if I hadn't known him from when I was a teen." He sighed and glanced out the observation screen. "I know...part of this is just going to take time, but if there is something I can do, let me know, okay? I get what you're saying and I'm glad you trust me, honestly Paige, that means a lot and I don't take that lightly. But I do want you to be able to trust your captain. I had the same problem with your brother, now that I think about it. When he was my friend we were fine, but as soon as he flipped over into Doctor Mode-" he waved a hand upward in front of his face "-all the walls came up because of my past experiences. So believe me when I say I get it. It took...a lot of time for me to get passed that. It took a lot of communication to get passed that. There are still times when...it's not always comfortable. I still...have a hard time seeing my friend passed my doctor sometimes. So I'm not gonna hold any of this against you, Paige, because I get it. But I want to help if I can." He rested a hand on her forearm. "Because I do see you as a friend."

Paige sighed and let her hand rest on top of his. "I think this helps? Getting to know you, not as my brother's best friend. Just you. As my friend. And...as uncomfortable as it may make me, getting to know Captain Kirk as my captain and not...just some random captain who can order me around just on the grounds of rank will help too. I know you're not the type to throw your rank around like that, but..."

"Seeing it is different," he filled in where Paige trailed off.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Okay, well. I have an idea. You're not gonna like it, but I have an idea. If you're up to it, I'd like to invite you to hang out on the bridge with me for a while. And it's probably a good idea for you to take the next few ground missions with me, so that you have the opportunity to get to know your captain a little better. And along those same lines...I think it would be beneficial, I can use big words too," he teased, "if we did stuff like this more often. Without your brother without...talking about work stuff. Just us talking. So you can get to know me a little better. We can take things as slowly as you need to, but. I want you to feel safe and comfortable on this ship. Because we're gonna be on it a while. You can call the shots about the timing, but I think it can help."

"I think you're right," Paige nodded with a sigh. "Thanks for being patient with me."

Jim smiled and lightly shouldered her. "You're welcome, Paige. And thank you for giving me a chance."

Tentatively, Paige leaned against his shoulder and for a moment they sat in silence. "When did you first meet Pike? I thought it was when he recruited you, but you said you knew him as a teen?"

This time it was Jim who took a moment to answer. "He, uh-"

"You don't have to explain," Paige cut in, noting the sudden tension in his body.

"It's okay. He was part of a crew that I met when I was younger. I can fill you in on other details later. And before you say, I don't have to, I know. But. It could be pertinent information later. And really, with your position, you need to know." He sighed and glanced at the floor. May as well rip the bandaid off while he was here. "I'm one of the Nine."

Paige picked her head up and stared in shock. "One of the Nine."

He nodded. "The Tarsus Nine. I won't go into details right now, but...it does affect my medical history. It affects my health now. And as someone on my medical team, as someone directly under my CMO, it's important for you to know that. And it was important to me, personally, to tell you myself."

"Thank you for trusting me with that, Jim," she said softly.

Jim smiled. "Thank you for being someone I know I can trust."

"Does anyone else know?"

"On the ship? Bones, Spock, Chris, and Scotty. Outside of that it's just Pike, I think. It's...they keep the information pretty need to know. I mean, they can't actually stop us from talking about it, but we were all 'recommended' to talk about it as little as possible." He sighed. "Every time I think about it I become less and less convinced that the body they found was actually his."

Paige squeezed his hand. He didn't have to explain, the Tarsus IV tragedy had been covered in her classes as study in working with victims dealing with severe trauma. The realization that she had been studying her captain, brought up some uncomfortable feelings she'd have to deal with later. "Even if it wasn't, there'd be nothing he could do to you now. He'd have to find you first. Even then, none of us would let him near you."

He gave a pained smile. "Thanks, Paige. I'd be pretty easy to find though. The Enterprise is pretty famous at this point."

"You know I had top marks in weapons training, right?"

He paused then cast her a questioning look between amusement and confusion.

"I'm just saying, they actually had me train as a sniper, kind of just to see if I could, but also like...I did do better than a lot of the guys training for security. I am technically a certified sharpshooter."

Jim arched a brow. "Dr. McCoy, are you offering to assassinate a possibly dead governor for me?"

"No..." she shrugged innocently, "I'm just saying...I have a broad skill set that, y'know, you can use at your discretion, Captain."

He snorted. "Yeah, okay. I did actually know that. It is slightly more relevant information for me to know than say your brother. Does he know about that?"

"I mean...."

Jim laughed at her hesitation and the accent slipping out slightly.

"He probably wouldn't be surprised. I always had more fun than he did when Granddad took us out huntin'."

Jim's jaw fell open, and he gave a surprised smile. "How is this the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"Probably because it was just campin' for Len," Paige shrugged. "He always went out with us, but he never took a shot."

"Yeah, that actually makes sense for him..." Jim mused. He shook his head. "Well, I appreciate the offer, but hopefully it's not something you'll ever have to use."

"Hopefully not, but I am gonna keep up my certs if it's all the same to you."

"Just don't tell Bones about the second one, right?" He teased.

Paige grimaced slightly at his hinting. "I swore two oaths when I joined the ship. The Hippocratic Oath and one to my captain, my crew, and my ship. For Len, those are the same oath. For me...it's a Venn diagram. They're almost a single circle, but not quite." She let out a sigh. "Look, Marcus was wrong, I know that. We are not and should not be the military, but...I don't think we can or should assume that everyone else in the universe wants peace. I'm not at all saying shoot first, but...we should be able to protect ourselves, protect each other. I really hope it never comes to that, but I don't think it's wise to pretend that there's zero possibility of something happening either."

Jim nodded. "I understand. It's nuanced and...kinda messy. Especially after Marcus and with knowing that...where Ambassador Spock came from, they weren't as militarized as we already are. I'll admit, that...makes me think. It makes me worry sometimes, just how close are we to that point."

"I don't think it'll happen," Paige shook her head. "There are way too many starry eyed explorers in captain's chairs. They'd kick up too much of a fuss."

Jim snorted when Paige shouldered him to get her point across.

"I'd be kickin' up a fuss with 'em," she added.

#whumptober2024 #no.28 #alt venom #star trek aos #fic #my writing #jim kirk #leonard mccoy #star trek au

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