#This could mean my mind been making up scenarios in an AU where Erika is a male

[isatisnn]

Two years, five months and so many days after the release of Origins's episode 30 and within the last four episodes of ANE... I can finally say,

I headcanon TO Leiftan as demisexual. Also I hc him to care not for his S.O. gender, but the 'soulmate' link between them or, in repleacement, the strong emotional connection demisexual people need in order to feel attracted towards someone.

On screen we never saw Leiftan take any romantic or sexual interest towards anyone else. We don't have an input regarding any former partners and less he mentioned someone to catch up his eyes aside from Erika. All the other guys but Lance would do show any past or 'present' interest into someone during TO. Valkyon proudly shows us his scars during the beach date, for example, telling us some of them were made in bed. Ezarel had his friend with benefits thing with Ewelein, and Nevra... Was not, once a time, Ezarel mad about Nev doing his thing with the girls of absynthe?

It's hinted in TO, both Leiftan and Erika were complementary to each other (Erika and him fighting Marie-Anne for example, dialogues straight tells you this, or the 'Ying-yang' ilu in episode 30), so as long as 'Erika' remains to be his complementary and keeps the precepts he valued the most from her (Modesty, or whatever he said in the SV event of some year, common-good oriented, etc), anything else seems irrelevant. Leiftan would love 'Erika' no matter what.

Ofc, this is a personal take, and i'm sure people in charge didn't think of it at that moment. But hey, if Beemoov tomorrow decided to publish a new episode where Leiftan claims directly at us: 'I'm a straight man and only atracted to WOMEN!', with all my heart I will totally ignore it.

I already like the idea too much. It's late, six years late.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

noise echoing (part two of two)

sequel to silent conversations, season 11 au, part one

my depiction of msiv had to be pretty heavily altered because of the fact that the entirety of msiv is about looking for jackson, which isn’t actually an issue here, so. some scenes and scenarios stayed the same. warning for violence.

Life returns to normal again. They watch William a little closer, but he seems to be genuinely remorseful for scaring them, with no intention of ever doing it again. They don't talk about it more than they need to. William has apparently inherited his mother's ability to not talk about things, and Mulder and Scully are more than happy to not relive those three terrifying days.

Life is good, even. William hangs out with friends occasionally, but he spends most of his summer holed up in his room reading or watching Netflix, or out in the woods with the dogs. Scully spends the summer writing a series of medical journals, and Mulder pecks away at a book he's been saying he's going to finish for years. They take X-Files where they can find them nearby. They break their rule only once: when Skinner disappears for a few days in the fall. Mulder is hesitant, even with the monster tease in Skinner's apartment; he doesn't want to leave William. Scully says, “It's Skinner, Mulder,” and that's really all it takes to convince him. William spends the next few nights at Jordan's house while Mulder and Scully hunt their boss down in Kentucky.

“I'm glad you went,” William says after it's all over. “I like Skinner. He definitely does way more for you guys than any normal boss. And besides, it sounds like he really needed your help.”

“Mr. Skinner,” Mulder says at the same time as Scully, in that mocking tone that makes her glare. She's been correcting William on that ever since he started imitating Mulder at age three, which Mulder has always found absolutely hilarious and William followed suit. They share a smirk across the dinner table. “I agree, Will,” says Scully, giving them both a stern look that relays exactly what she thinks of their comments. “But I don't know how much help we ended up being. Your father fell into the hole instead of getting Skinner out of it.”

“Mr. Skinner, Scully,” Mulder says playfully. “And besides, that wasn't my fault, I was blindsided. You're the one who left him in the hole!”

Scully jabs the fork at him. “He told me to go, Mulder, we were in pursuit of the suspect! And besides that, he was injured.”

“Exactly,” Mulder says. “Exactly why you should've gotten him out and tended to him.”

“He got himself out,” Scully says defensively. “Exactly why I think he could've handled it himself. I mean, who knows what would have happened if we hadn't come… but Skinner was very capable on his own.” Mulder makes a face at her, clinking his fork against hers like a sword.

“Wait, wait, wait,” says William, pointing his fork at the both of them. “You left your boss in a hole? After he'd been impaled?”

“It was circumstantial, William,” Scully says mildly.

He laughs, swishing his fork around his plate. “How have you guys not been fired yet?”

“I've asked myself that question every day for over twenty-five years, son,” Mulder says. “This isn't even the worst we've done, as a collective.” Scully swats his shoulder with a napkin.

William faces his junior year head on, with loads of homework and the fear of the ACT looming. Mulder and Scully look for any trails from the men who came for William over the summer, but there are none. The leads have dried up. They are all waiting for the day that someone will send people after their son again, but that day seems far off and distant. They remain on edge, keeping their guns in their bedside table and jumping at unexpected sounds, and the paranoia never fades as 2017 turns to 2018. An incident resulting from a birthday dinner for Scully leaves them even more on edge, with a series of drones coming to the property and an automated vacuum trying to set the house on fire. It's quickly figured out that the attack is a result of Mulder not tipping at the robot sushi place they go to, which culminates in William stealing Mulder’s phone and tipping before the house gets burned down. The three of them bicker over whether or not Mulder’s typical cheapness caused the attack, whether or not it is unwise to go to a robot sushi restaurant, and other fun targets as they clean up the house once again. (“Your jobs are ruining our home,” William says sourly as he sweeps up broken glass. “This,” Scully says sternly, jabbing a finger at him, “had nothing to do with our jobs.” “But it was an X-File,” Mulder adds, dropping a mangled drone in a garbage bag. “Shut up,” Scully and William snap in unison.)

Life is normal. Aside from the expected paranoia and surprise visits by an army of drones, life is normal. Life is normal until it isn't.

---

In the spring, William starts having nightmares again. Scully is startled out of sleep one night by the sound of him crying out from his bedroom. On instinct alone, she climbs out of bed and rushes to his room, finds him only asleep, tangled up in the blankets and tugging at the sheets like when he had bad dreams as a child. Fed raises his head from the pillow to give her a sad look.

“William.” She shakes his shoulder to try and rouse him. “Will, wake up.”

His eyes fly open, as dark as Mulder’s in the dimly lit room. Scully wishes she could remember when they turned from the clear blue of her mother's to this dark color, but she cannot.

“Mom,” he mutters, struggling to sit up. He reaches out and scratches Fed on top of the head. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” He sounds sheepish, apologetic. Mulder's son through and through.

“Will, are you okay?” Scully asks, straightening the comforter on his bed. “Did you… see something?”

His face stony serious, he nods. “It's starting,” he says. “Soon, it's starting. And we need to be ready. We need to stop my grandfather before it all ends.”

---

When they come for him, they come when he's at school. He didn't see that one coming. He never sees the important things anymore.

A part of William is relieved. It's easier to blindly protect people here.

He's walking to class with his friends, laughing and talking about the end of school and finals and their upcoming senior year when he remembers he left his book on the wall outside, where they had sat and eaten their lunch. “I'll be right back,” he says, and breaks away from the cluster, pushing through the busy hallway towards the doors to the outside. When he gets there, he finds two men dressed in black suits and sunglasses. One is holding his book. The other has a corner of his jacket lifted to show off his gun.

“You'll want to come with us, kid,” says the guy with the book.

“And you'll want to come quietly,” says the guy with the gun. “Or we’ll make sure each and every one of your friends in there have a bullet in your skull. And then, before we hit the road? We'll pay a visit to your home and do the same to your parents.”

William goes. He's terrified, but he goes, because what the hell else can he do? He can't let them hurt the people he cares about. He steps closer to them and feels the gun jab hard into his side; a huge hand closes down on his shoulder, guiding him towards the car. He's praying that someone will see, will help, but no one does.

He's already forming a plan in his mind: how to overpower them as soon as they're far enough away, how to telepathically contact his parents, but as soon as they get into the big black car, the book guy pins him to the seat with his overlarge hand.

“We were warned about your powers,” says the gun guy. “Don’t worry; we have a remedy for that.”

And the needle slides into William's neck, a cloud of drugs overtaking him before he can fight back.

---

When Monica Reyes shows up at their office, Scully's first instinct is to be confrontational. The first thing she sees is red-hot rage. All she can think of is that Monica took her son in her vision. Monica, who helped bring him into the world. She's barely even in the door before Scully is out of her seat, gun aimed.

Monica's hands fly in the air. “Whoa, Scully,” Mulder is saying, hand flying to her shoulder.

“Mulder, you remember what we saw,” she hisses, not looking away from her. “What she did.”

“You know,” Monica says. It's not a question. She does not look afraid; she does have guilt on her face. Just a touch of it.

“I saw what you do when the world is ending,” Scully says, her hand wrapping hard around the gun. “What you do to my son.”

“Dana, you need to listen to me,” Monica says slowly, sincerely. “It's not what you think. I'm here to help you.”

“Scully, maybe we should listen to her,” Mulder says, a hand hovering over her shoulder. “She can't have Will, he's still at school.” His voice is lined with uncertainty, though; they have lost the luxury to say, He's just at school, and believe it.

“I don't have William,” Monica says, but Scully can hear the but in her tone. She hesitates a moment, her hands quivering in the air.

“Who has William?” Scully asks, and God help her, her voice is shaking. (Not again, she pleads, not again, not again.)

Monica sighs, bowing her head slightly. “It's Erika Price and her associates,” she says. “They were disappointed that Mulder had never made serious on his claims of killing his father. They hope that Spender's love for the boy will give them their opportunity. That they can lure him there and take care of him for good.”

Mulder makes a small sound full of fear beside her. Scully's hands are shaking, but she carefully lowers the gun a few millimeters. “And why are you here?” she snaps carefully.

“Because years of infiltrating the fucking Syndicate once I found out Spender was still alive has taught me one thing,” Monica snaps. “These people—both branches of them—need to be stopped no matter what. And I want your son to be safe. This is the best chance to make sure of all of these things.”

Scully sets the gun down flat on the table, presses her hands into the edge of the table to steady them. “They have William?” Mulder asks in a quivering voice.

“Yes.” Monica is giving them a look full of apology. “I am so sorry. But I can assure you that they won't hurt him. They want him unharmed.”

“Oh, great,” Mulder snaps. “That's so comforting. What happens after Spender is dead, when they don't need him anymore?”

“Do you know where he is?” Scully says, her ears rushing with white noise. “Will you take us to him?”

“Of course, Dana,” Monica says with a great deal of apology in her voice. “I want this to be over just as much as you do. I'm sorry it ever happened in the first place.”

Scully's fingers twitch, itching to grab her gun. She wants to shoot someone, to hurt the people who hurt her son. “Will you wait outside for a second, Monica?” she says sharply. “I need to talk to Mulder for a minute.”

Monica meets her eyes sincerely, nods her head and steps outside the door, closing it behind her.

As soon as the door is closed, Mulder grabs his phone and dials William's number. “Mulder,” Scully tries, reaching for his shoulder and squeezing it. Trying to comfort him. “Mulder, if he's in school, he's not going to answer…”

“He'll answer,” Mulder says, gripping the phone hard and putting it up to his ear. “He'll answer if he sees it's me. He knows…” His voice falters, trails off, and he clutches the phone harder.

“Mulder, I think she's telling the truth,” Scully says shakily, as much as she hates to admit it. “I think we have to go with her. I think that might be the only way to end this.”

“Damn it!” Mulder slams the phone down on the desk. “Voicemail. Goddamnit.”

“Mulder.” A tear slips out of her eye; she wipes it away impatiently. She wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Mulder, please.”

“Let me call the school. Just let me call the school.” He wipes his eyes, his nose. He's not looking at her. “Scully, we have to know for sure before we go with her. We have to know that we can trust her. Just let me call the school. I have to know if he's there.”

Scully's throat is sore, clogged up. She nods. Mulder picks up the phone and starts dialing. Scully steps away, straightening her jacket. She wipes her face again, steps out of the office where Monica Reyes is waiting.

She's standing against a pile of boxes, arms crossed over her chest, an unlit cigarette between two fingers. “How did you know?” she asks.

Scully leans against the opposite wall, sniffles before answering. “How did I know what?”

“That I was working with Spender.”

Scully clears her throat before answering, carefully. “Well, you dropped off the radar when you and Doggett got the X-Files taken away. That was one indication. But I knew for sure after… after William and I had a shared vision. Of the contagion. What happened when Spender released it. I sent William with you to keep him safe, because I… because I still trusted you.” She inhales sharply. “But you took him to the smoker.” She wipes her face again with a trembling hand. “So. That's how I knew.”

Monica swallows nervously. “Dana, listen,” she says. “I know it might be hard to believe, but I was telling the truth. I'm a double agent. I have been ever since William was a baby. Ever since I found out Spender was still alive.” She takes an uncertain breath. “I wanted to tell you, but I knew it would blow my cover,” she says. “I never thought it would take this long. It took me fifteen years to figure out their plan, and two years to try and stop it.”

Scully nods. She can feel her stomach turning over on itself, the burn of bile at the back of her throat, and as nausea overtakes her, she runs for the bathroom. The door slams behind her as she bends over the toilet, retching. “Dana?” Monica is pounding on the door. “Dana, it's okay. We're going to find him and he'll be okay. This will all be over soon, and you can go back to your lives…”

She clutches the toilet bowl with both hands, knuckles turning white with the strength of her grip. She's shaking, quivering on her knees on the tile floor. Tears drip off the end of her nose. She's so cold. Will, she thinks desperately. Will, please, can you hear me, please answer. Please. There is no answer. She rests her head against the porcelain bowl, breathing hard.

When she exits the bathroom, Monica is waiting for her, mournful look on her face. “Dana, I'm sorry,” she says. She reaches out and touches Scully's elbow. “I should have told you years ago. Are you okay?”

Scully nods. She offers a small smile, the biggest she can muster, but it fades quickly. Monica squeezes her arms before letting go. Her eyes are sad.

Mulder exits the room, his face white. “They counted him present in homeroom this morning, but I had them check and he wasn't there for his last two classes, and you know Will wouldn't skip class,” he's saying, but then he seems to see her. “Scully, are you okay? You look sick.” He reaches out to touch the side of her face with a gentle hand.

She nods, swallows back the horrible taste in her throat and steadies herself. “I'm fine, Mulder. Let's go get him.”

---

The last time her son was kidnapped, she and Monica drove off to Canada to save him. What followed was a tumultuous series of events in which she thought Mulder was dead, she thought she had to choose between Mulder and William, William indirectly caused the death of his kidnappers, and she thought her son was dead. Monica comforted her as she cried in the ashes, holding William close. She'd told Mulder about it years later, after he came back, when William was completely safe, napping on Mulder's lap with his thumb in his mouth. It hasn't felt real since it happened, a dark fairy story.

This feels real. Her son is gone again, and she and Mulder are blindly following Monica Reyes in an attempt to bring him home. He is older now, able to fight back, but his whereabouts are less mysterious: Scully knows exactly who has him, but has no real idea what their intentions with him are, and she is terrified.

The smoker is in South Carolina, Monica tells them. When they go to tell Skinner, he reacts in a similar way that Scully did, distrusting of Monica. It takes a few more minutes to convince him that Monica is trustworthy, and this largely comes as a result of Mulder snapping at them both angrily. “We don't have time!” he shouts, smacking Skinner's desk with the flat of his hand. “We're wasting time right now. Time my son doesn't have.”

Skinner sighs, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. “Mulder, we may not have time on any front,” he says, ignoring Monica and addressing the two of them. “Kersh is up in arms about some conspiracy you were talking about on the Tad O'Malley show…”

“That was me,” Scully says. Mulder and Skinner both look at her with some surprise; she crosses her arms over her chest tightly. “William saw it coming,” she says. “He said it would start soon. I knew that this was the only way to warn people, by feeding that crackpot information and letting it spread like wildfire.”

Skinner sighs again. “Well, whoever did it, Kersh is ready to shut you both down. He was ready to do it later this evening. You can report William's abduction, but I doubt he'll let you work it…”

“This goes so much further than William, sir,” Scully snaps. “The fate of human civilization could depend on what we do here today.” She looks at Monica out of the side of her eye, who nods. “And besides that,” she adds tightly, “he's our son and I don't give a damn about protocol. We're going for him. And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it on the down low.”

Skinner looks between the three of them, reluctant. And them he stands, reaching for his gun. “I'm coming with you,” he says.

Scully blinks. “Sir?” she asks, uncertain.

“You're right,” Skinner says. “This is important. And you need backup. I'm coming.”

Scully exchanges a look with Mulder. He looks frightened and relieved all at once. He reaches for her hand, squeezed it briefly. We're coming, she tries, and hopes that William can hear her.

“I'll get us on a flight to South Carolina,” Monica says.

---

When William wakes up, it is to the sound of gunshots. A sound he's entirely too familiar with. His mind is still swimming, his stomach turning, assumedly from the drugs. He turns on his side, curling into a ball. God, he thinks. Oh, god, I hope that isn't anyone I care about getting shot. He lays his head flat on the floor and tries to breathe evenly.

He lets his mind wander, tries to see what he needs to see. He checks on his friends first, makes sure the men told the truth about not hurting them if he came willingly. They're all fine, Jordan and Theresa and Ben, they're fine. He breathes out a sigh of relief, his knees against his stomach. He checks his parents next and finds them on a plane. Headed for him, wherever he is. Skinner sitting in the seat behind them and that woman from his vision, Monica something, across the aisle. His dad sleeping fitfully against his mom's shoulder, making distressed sounds in his sleep. His mom sitting back in the seat, her hand pressed to her stomach like she's nauseous or something. He screws his eyes shut and thinks at her: Mom. Mom, can you hear me?

The vision fades, but he hears his mother's voice, loud and solid in his mind. Will? Oh my god, sweetie, are you okay?

I'm fine.

Oh my god. William, do you know where you are? We're coming to find you.

No, I don't know. I just woke up. I'm sorry. He swallows back the bitter taste of nausea in his throat and tries to sit up. His head spins like a fun house ride.

It's okay. It'll be okay. Will, is anyone there? Are you alone?

I'm alone in the room, but I heard gunshots a few minutes ago. He scoots backwards across the grimy floor, sitting with his back against the wall. He's too tall to sit like this, curled up in a ball like a little kid.

Hang tight, Will, his mother commands. Hold on, we're coming.

---

William isn't sure how long he stays huddling against the wall. The gunshots have been stopped for a while, but he can still hear people moving around in the house. Not close to him. Every now and then, his mother will call his name in his mind and he will answer, I'm here.

And then, the sounds of moving don't seem so far away. There are echoing sounds down the hall, sounds he gradually recognizes as footsteps, and he clenches his teeth. Mom, someone's coming, he says, nearly shouting. He needs her to hear, hopes she is close.

There's no answer. Static in his head. Mom, are you there? he tries. Can you hear me? Mom!

Nothing. It's like there's a block somehow, another presence in his mind, and he fights against it to no avail. There's no connection, and the footsteps grow closer, closer until the door swings open and a man that William has only ever seen in dreams and visions steps in.

I've been eager to meet you, William, says the man who stinks of nicotine, and it takes William a few good minutes to realize that he isn't speaking out loud.

---

“He says that someone is coming,” Scully says in the car as they drive through Spartanburg, her voice full of panic. “Something’s blocking me, I can't say or hear anything else, but the last thing he said was that someone was coming.”

Mulder’s hand clamps around hers. “Monica, do you know where we're going? Do you know where they are?”

“Yes,” Monica says from the driver's seat. “We're twenty minutes away, just hang on.”

Mulder turns to Scully, squeezes his hand. “Can you hear him?” he asks, almost pleading.

She shakes her head. “No, but you know how it is, it doesn't always work. Can you hear him?”

He shakes his head. She lowers her head, hair hiding her face, and he wraps his arms around her briefly. In the front seat, Skinner dutifully ignores them. Monica watches the road.

“We're going to find him,” he says quietly.

“You said that the last time,” she murmurs.

He shakes his head. “This is the last time. I'm ending it now. This is never going to happen again.”

She presses her forehead into his shoulder and he kisses the top of her head. “It's going to be okay,” he says.

She nods. He rubs a hand over her back before pulling away. He reaches for his gun, pulls it out and turns the safety off. He watches Scully reach for her own gun, her hand brushing slowly over her stomach as she goes.

They drive, towards whatever will happen next. The end of the world or the salvation of it. All that seems to matter to Mulder is his son.

---

“What do you want from me?” William snaps, careful to speak out loud as he gets to his feet. He hates this man, has only seen flashes of what he's done to his parents over the years, but he knows he has plenty of reason to hate him.

The man smiles. He stinks of nicotine. “I wanted to meet you,” he says. “To get to know you. To carry on our family legacy.”

William balls his fists in his pockets. “You are not my family,” he spits. He wants nothing to do with this man.

“I'm your grandfather, William,” the man says in a charismatic tone that has William itching to punch him. “And I think you'll find when my plans fall into place that I'll be some of the only family you have left. You and myself and your mother, we'll be some of the sole survivors.”

His vision, nearly two years old, his dying father. William clenches his teeth, snaps his chin with a mind-force behind it that would normally send his target flying. But he finds a sort of resistance, a wall against the force he's sending forth that locks the old man in place. He pushes harder, and the man pushes back with a force that almost sends William to his knees. Blood drips out of one nostril. For a moment, they're locked into a bottle of strength, until William gives out. Weak, he slumps against the wall, wiping blood off his face.

The man—his grandfather—smiles, satisfied. “These parlor tricks won't work on me, my boy,” he says. “Although I know they have worked before for you. My apologies.”

William's eyes narrow, fury building inside him, and in one solid moment, he runs at the man. Telepathically, his grandfather might be stronger, but physically, William outweighs him. He slams into the man like they're playing football, shoves him into the wall. His head cracks against the door frame. William doesn't stay in place for long; he runs past him, feet pounding the floor.

“You won't get very far, my boy!” the smoker calls from behind him, already getting up. There's no way he should be okay after that, William heard the smacking sound of his skull, but he is.

“Like shit,” William hisses through his teeth, running faster. He's going to get out of here. He wants to go home. He's tired of this being his life.

---

The place that Monica takes them to is a sprawling manor house on the edge of a murky green lake. She leads them straight to the front door, uses a key to get them in.

Inside the house, they find several corpses in the front foyer. Men with bullet holes in their foreheads. Mulder’s fingers twitch around the gun as they pass the bodies.

“We'll split up,” Scully says in a low voice. She doesn't think William is dead, but then again, she doesn't know, does she. “You two clear the house. Mulder and I will find William.”

Monica looks like she wants to argue, but Skinner nods wordlessly. They head in opposite directions from the foyer.

Mulder and Scully walk together through the house. They pass a woman in the next room, sitting in an armchair with a similar bullet hole in her forehead. “Erika Price,” Mulder says in a low voice. The woman he met in New York. The woman who Monica said ordered William's abduction.

“If she's dead,” Scully says, her fingers numb and cold around her weapon. “If she's dead, then what happened to William, Mulder?”

Their answer comes too quickly. Gunshots from the direction Skinner and Monica went off in. Pounding footsteps upstairs. Someone is running away.

Their eyes meet briefly, and then they are running too, following their son's footsteps towards the back of the house.

---

The smoker has gotten back on his feet and is in pursuit. William can feel it.

He takes a wrong turn and ends up at a series of glass doors at the end of the hallway. Outside, a balcony. He doesn't think, only pushes through the glass doors and locks them behind him with a look.

Inside the house, he can hear more gunshots. Someone is here, someone is fighting, and he doesn't know if anyone can help him. But he does know one thing: bullets can very easily shatter glass. He isn't any safer out here than in there.

William's eyes scan over the side of the house, his mind racing. He sees the trellis, the white ladder-like thing covered in vines that nearly reaches the ground. He doesn't think, just swings a leg over the railing and balances himself on the trellis. As he lets his weight fall onto it, he digs his fingers hard into the greenery. He begins to climb down it like a ladder. His heart is pounding, pounding. He doesn't think about what he's doing, and once he's only a few feet above the ground, he lets himself drop and composes a silent thank you to Coach Ruthers for making him climb the rope in gym as a kid.

He begins to run again, as far as he can until he hits the edge of the lake, the dock bobbing in the water. He stops at the edge, breathing hard, considering whether or not to swim for it. His parents might be in the house.

And suddenly, he can sense it. His grandfather approaching, calling his name. William can't think straight, so he projects as the first person that comes to his mind. Someone he hopes that his grandfather won't want to kill right away.

“Fox,” his grandfather says when he sees him, as if this is a surprise. Addressing William as his father. “I heard your associates downstairs, but I didn't expect to find you down here.”

William doesn't move, doesn't say anything. Does he not know? he thinks in a panic. Does he not know about the projection? Or does he just want to see Dad? His heart thudding, he starts to move away until he sees the gun pointed at him.

“You really don't give up, do you?” says the smoker, cocking his gun. “But then, you have so much to lose. It's what we have in common.”

“We have nothing in common,” William hisses in his father's voice.

“I need the boy,” the smoker says, and William's skin crawls. He's drawing closer, gun aimed at him. William backs up, closer to the edge of the lake. “The boy is mine. My grandson, my successor in the future ashes of the earth.”

“The boy would rather die first,” William snarls, and he would, if he had to choose, but he really doesn't want to die. He's scanning behind the smoker, hoping that his parents are inside. Mom, can you hear me? he tries. Dad?

“You have no right to the boy,” the smoker says. “He may be your son, but he exists because of me. You and your Scully have me to thank. And now your time with him has ended, I'm afraid.” He raises the gun.

William's heart is thudding so hard he can hear it. He considers dropping the projection. Reconsiders, tries another approach. “You'd shoot your firstborn son?

“Shot my second-born son once,” his grandfather says with a hint of satisfaction. “But I need you to know, Fox, when I gave you life, I never fathomed the moment would come when I would need to end it.”

“I don't think you can do it,” William says, trying to play his cards right, trying to get out of this. This was such a stupid plan, he should have jumped, or screamed for help. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die. Mom, he thinks, desperate. Mom, Dad, help me, I'm out here. I need help, please.

“Then you don't know me very well,” says his grandfather, and shoots.

---

Scully sees the smoker going down the stairs, out the door. He doesn't see them. He's going for William, she thinks, grips Mulder’s sleeve and tugs. He sees what she's looking at, nods. They follow him, staying back far enough so that he doesn't see them.

The smoker gets outside before they do. They hang back, watching him from around a corner, when Scully hears the clock of a gun at the back of their heads. “Drop your weapons,” the man behind them says evenly.

Their guns clatter as they hit the ground. They raise their hands together, exchanging nervous looks; Mulder’s eyes are dark back and forth from her to the doors where Spender exited. Scully feels a flickering of irritation in her mind, annoyance and fear; We don't have time for this, she wants to scream, our son needs us.

“Keep your hands in the air and turn around,” the man says. They obey, shoulders against the wall. The man smirks at them like a jack-o'-lantern. “The famous Agents Mulder and Scully,” he says smugly. “Funny meeting you here.”

“Where is my son?” Mulder hisses through his teeth. “What did you do to him?”

“That's not your concern now,” says the man. “I have orders to shoot you—” He prods the side of Mulder’s face with the barrel of his gun, and Scully grits her teeth, furious, ready to tell this man apart. “—on sight. So I think you should just come with me, and…”

The back of the man's head explodes in a mess of blood. They both jump at the loud sound of the gunshot. When the man falls, they can see Skinner standing behind him, gun still smoking.

Scully's mouth hangs open in astonishment and relief. “Sir…” Mulder says.

“Go,” Skinner snaps, waving his gun at the door. They grab their weapons and go.

They start out running as they approach the water, but they both slow as they see what is happening. The smoker is holding Mulder at gunpoint. The smoker has Mulder at gunpoint at the edge of the water, but that isn't possible, because Mulder is right beside her and has been since Washington. He's saying something with Mulder's voice, but this is all impossible, it can't be him. Scully can't breathe. She gropes for Mulder and finds him right beside her, a solid and warm mass.

“Then you don't know me very well,” says Spender, and fires.

The bullet hits the not-Mulder in the forehead, and it's only then that Scully realizes who he is.

Her scream shatters the windows and splits the sky in half.

---

The smoker doesn't seem to hear or acknowledge Scully's scream. He's watching Mulder's body fall into the water. Mulder’s son wearing his face.

His father has just killed his son.

“Hey!” Mulder roars, with a fury so deep that he can feel it in his teeth, in his bones. The smoker whirls, and Mulder shoots him. He fires again and again, shooting his father as he draws closer and closer. He can feel every bullet.

It isn't just his bullets hitting Spender. Scully is shooting, too, walking beside him and firing again and again. Their bullets hit Spender together, dozens piercing him again and again.

When Mulder hears the click of Scully's gun that means it is empty, he surges forward. He pushes his dying father into the water with all the fury in his body.

He once told himself that if he killed his father, it would be for his son. He wasn't wrong.

His father falls into the water with a splash.

“William!” Scully screams, and she's running towards the water, she's close to jumping in, but Mulder catches her before she can.

Night has fallen. The water is dark and cold, and he can't see his son's body.

His body. He is going to throw up. He wants to scream.

“William!” Scully is pushing at his arms, clawing at him. “Let me go, Mulder, I have to…”

“Scully, stop,” he says, holding her against him.

“He's down there!” she shouts, bucking in his arms, almost falling over the edge. “He's down there, he's hurt, I have to get him out of there, Mulder…” Her voice is wobbling horribly, her fingernails digging into his arms. She sobs once, a hollow sound.

“He's gone,” Mulder says, and it doesn't feel his words, his mouth moving. He's not here, he's somewhere out in a field in summer where it's warm, and his son is there and Scully, and they are happy….

“Our son,” he says, and it sounds like sobbing, and he meant to say is gone, but he can't make the words come. He's shaking, clutching Scully to him just to tether himself to the ground. It can't, it can't be true. No. “Our son,” he whispers.

Scully is limp in his arms, even if she's still struggling. She's sobbing, her shoulders shaking. He thinks he hears her whisper their son's name.

He presses his tear-smudged face into her hair, whispers, “Scully.” She's shaking in his arms, and he's crying, too. He moves his cheek against her hair, and then he sees it: a white hand gripping the side of the dock, trying to pull himself up. It can't, it can't be, but… “Scully,” he says, more insistent.

“What…” Her eyes flicker across the dock until she sees it, and he feels her freeze against him.

Mulder lets go of her, falls to his knees at the edge of the dock and grips the wet hand. He pulls it, pulls the person up onto the dock, the quivering, dripping person, and it is his son, his son soaked to the bone, water cascading off his shoulders. Shaking, a bullet hole in his forehead.

“Dad,” William says, his teeth chattering. “Mom…”

Scully makes a small, whimpering sound. Falls to her knees beside them and wraps her arms around him. Mulder gathers them up against him, holding his son against his chest, rocking them. “William,” he's saying, the words spilling out of his mouth. “Oh my God, Will…”

“It's okay,” William is saying, “it's okay, I'm okay, it's okay…” But he's crying, he's sobbing with his face half pressed against Mulder's jacket.

“Shhh,” Scully says, and she's got a fistful of Mulder’s shirt, clutching William with one hand and Mulder with the other, and she is comforting William as if he's still a small child. “Shhh, baby, it's okay, we've got you. He's dead now. We've got you.”

William's taking shaky breaths, nearly hyperventilating and shivering with cold, but he's breathing, he's alive. His son is alive. “I'm sorry,” Mulder says, and he means for saying William was gone, but it could be for any number of things. William takes a few more shuddering breaths, shivering hard. The lake water is getting them all wet, but he doesn't care. Scully is crying and William is crying and they're all three trembling, sitting on the cold ground, murmuring things that blur together and don't seem to make any sense.

His son is alive. His father is dead. It's finally, finally over.

“It's going to be okay,” he says into Scully's hair. William nods his agreement. Scully makes a choked sobbing sound, tightening her grip on them both, sniffling into his chest. “It's going to be okay,” Mulder whispers. “It's okay. It's over now.”

William nods again. “It's over,” he says. “It's over.”

He rocks his son and his wife back and forth. It’s over and they’re together and they’re alive. For now, that seems like enough.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Can I get a break down of all your black butler request/headcanons etc.?

Newest to oldest

Would Sebastian still accept a s/o that doesn't want children?

Dear Sebastian, would you ask a girl's parents if you can court her or ask her yourself?

Can you do something for Edward Midford? The plot being along the lines of him finding out the phantomhive servants are assassins. It would be much appreciated.

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May I please have jealous/possessive Claude and Sebastian hcs, please? Like where their s/o has an/multiple admirer(s) or something of that nature :)

Dear Sebastian, do you like cuddling with your s/o and doing the things that they enjoy doing?

Sebastian Michaelis one shot please? The reader is a female demon- an assassin- worked on commission and was sent to get rid of Ciel Phantomhive's pesky butler by an unknown third party... only to realise mid battle that they've known and been involved with each other a long time ago... And Sebastian suddenly decides he wants to keep this rare cat-demon... I would love to have some humour thrown in... I just made up the request as I went on- so excuse me if it's bizarre..

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I almost forgot, but!! Some nsfw HC's about how Seb would return the affection that his S/O ravished on him? ^^ 💕💕

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Dear Mr Phantomhive, I'm sorry if I'm intruding but I'm so curious I feel as if I need to know! What do you look for in a possible, future s/o appearance and personality? Thank you ever so much, Lu!

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How would Joker and Dagger react to their S/O dying their hair in an unnatural hair color? (I mean, like, bright pink, not those mainstream dark purple and stuff). Take your time, I love your blog! xx

HC's on how you and Ciel would love on Seb~? Separately as well as together? ^_^ 🖤💙✨ Seb needs all the love from all the beans~!! 💗

Ok at the end of my last commission, you had Sebby fall asleep, and that's always sooooo cute~!! So can we get a scenario of s/o and Ciel waking up when he's still asleep, watching him sleep, and watching him start to wake up~? ^_^ 💕💕💕

Self ship

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Hello sweety. I've been gone a long time. Wondering if we could get some more platonic Sebastian and mistress headcannon? :) As always, take your time. Thank you in advance.

Headcannons for Ciel having a rebellous s/o? (ILOVEYOUANDYOURBLOGDSHtBI)

Erika, what would Sebastian and Ulquiorra think of me and my blogs?

How would Sebastian react if he realized whenever he's away with some criminal business with Ciel or anything, his s/o can't sleep nor eat anything because she's afraid something bad can happen to him?

Crossover for Black Butler and Supernatural. Ciel and Sebastian are rogue demons who indirectly shaped Hell into what it is and changed the whole contract system; 10 year time limit, demon/human interaction, demon form appearance, souls being collected by hellhounds, etc. So, they live in the 21st century and mind their own business, despite being a danger to both Hell and Heaven because of Ciel being a human who became a demon. What if these two met with the Winchester brothers?

For a very long time, I've been thinking of a Harry Potter and Black Butler crossover. Especially after the Weston Arc. Imagine, Ciel and Sebastian in Hogwarts under cover. Ciel is a student and Sebastian is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I'm wondering about the relationship between Sebastian and Snape mainly. They are very similar, but also very different. Can you analyze the interaction and relationship between Snape and Sebastian, and then Ciel and Draco since he's like Alois?

Headcanons of Sebastian with an INFJ s/o please.

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How would Ciel, Lizzy, and Sebastian would react if Their s/o blamed themselves for their sister or brothers death because they believed they should die for committing a sin (killing an innocent person during their manic) and not them and believed everything around them is turning into ashes? Would they confront? Get someone to cheer them up?

Vincent bringing home a woman to meet Ciel to be his nanny/teacher and the woman is a witch who teaches Ciel how to protect himself from Angels and Demons? Please? Plus Vincent asks Ciel if he would like her to be his mother? QWQ

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Scenario of Sebastian's S/O begin him for death to come please? Thanks in advance!

How would Sebastian deal with his s/o that is afraid of their own mind? They dont want to be bored or be left alone because of the crazy and inhuman things that they think about.

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(im not even sure if i sent in something like this before but oh well) Can i get a scenario and possibly some headcanons too of Sebastian finding out his s/o has a black soul wrapped in layers of white.

Could you write about how the Undertaker would react to finding out his chubby s/o has medical scars ( for example I have a pink scar from surgery across my belly) and finding out they are self conscious about it? I'm sorry if that's too much! I just love your writing! You are amazing!❤️

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Could you headcanons for how Ronald Knox would react to someone hardcore flirting with him

Hello, I was wondering if I could get a few nsfw hc about Sebastian (bb) either in general or x a female demon s/o and in their doing something sexual she prefers to be dominant but will be submissive at times? (I'm sorry if this seems like a odd request, feel free to ignore if you don't like it but thank you for reading my request :) )

Hello this is my final ask for now, but I was wondering if I couldget a imagine for Sebastian x female reader who LOVES horror movies and unlike most people who gets creped out she absolutely loves them and likes to try and figure out why the serial killers kills and gets mildly irritated when the characters make a stupidmistake that could have been avoidedAnd if there's a demon hound/cat she finds it oddlycute when its first shown. Also accidentally lets out a giggle if something stupid happens

Hello can I get a HC for Sebastian x female reader who has a seriously terrifying temper, as she doesn't loose it often and tends to bottle up her anger, so when she is finally letting go of her anger you don't want to be near her. (I.e.one time she had to be physically restrained by three people and a locked car to prevent her from unintentionally killing someone who had caused her family so much pain and tore them apart)(sorry if the type of anger above makes you uncomfortable to write)

Self-ship

What would happen if Sebastian meets Whisper (from Yokai Watch)? Lol, 🤣🤣Just though of it since they're both butlers, well Sebastian moreso lolz. 😆

If you write for him, Scenario (or if you want, headcanons, whichever you prefer) Of what if Ronald Knox accidently fell in love with a human?

Hey can you do one with Ciel and his s/o going to woman's house in order to pretend to be babysitter to get edvience about a case of missing people around the woman's neighborhood but all the way there his lover and him bickered about who will babysitting the baby and they get locked in by the woman? I don't know if this is vague or it is not good for you but I hope it seems right.

Currently went to the pet shelter and fell in love with a black cat called "Mr. Black" but at the same time I also fell in love with a black puppy Called "Blue"! Can I get a scenario with sebastian's s/o pleading with him to let them adopt both? :) I'm both a huge cat/dog lover!

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Could I request a scenario in which Sebastian and Ciel try to compete for the reader? Like, they try to embarrass each other in front of her, and flaunt their best qualities! Thank you very much!

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This is like really random, but could you ever see Claude Faustus or Sebastian Michaelis swing dancing? Idk, I just feel like if they existed in like the 40s or the 50s they'd be hella hot XD like badass greasers omg!!!!! When you have the time, could you please do headcanons of this? :) (not them dancing together, but with the reader?)

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Hmmmmm, hc's for what it'd be like to take a road trip with Seb and Ciel~? Maybe in the summer? ^^ ✨

Ooh ooh idea! Scenario with daddy!Sebby and his kids & s/o (got idea from reading the whole Sebastian and Ciel (separate) family and being fathers headcanon thing. CX)

*deep inhale* All your scenarios with it thus far have been super adorable, sO!! S/O (playfully) put-out with Seb always sneaking up on them to tickle them, and determined to make him let them have a turn to get back at him~? ^_^ Give the cutie a taste of his medicine 🖤

Self-ship

Cuddly Agni after seeing his s/o have an anxiety attack due to being at a large party that Prince Soma hosts

Can I have a scenario of Sebastian and his s\o pull a prank on a girl who has a fear of demons? Sorry if it seems vague.

That Prompt wink wink: Sebastian trying to seduce reader for info, but finding out they're actually ace, and sex-repulsed~ (rip Seb)

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Can I have a scenario with Ciel dealing with his s/o who has psychosis? I don't know if you like this request or not so...

Oh wow hi look at that they're open~!! : D So maybe some sweet headcanons for how Sebastian would get his s/o ready for bed/put them to sleep~? ^_^ 🖤

I know he isn't the most popular one to ask for but could you maybe write something for Viscount Druitt where he suddenly gets all head over heels over the reader after seeing her on one of auctions and decides to buy her? Could it be serious and sort of dramatic? Thank you so much I love your blog :3

Hiiii! Could you write Sebastian reacting to a girl who's super interested in demons so she goes to the Phantomhive Manor at night to explore it while he's still haunting it? This is a modern au of course :3. Maybe he also knows the girl's fears...

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Songfic

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Agni NSFW headcanons

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74 BB requests in total.

[themadpuppy85]

Summoning Candyman Epilogue ( Jumin X Reader fanfic)

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating : M  Summary: “Jumin Han, Jumin Han, Jumin Han” you repeated in front of the mirror. When you wished for Jumin to be real on Halloween night, you didn’t expect him to turn out to be a criminal lord with a strange pet fetish…  Keywords: Super AU, self-insert, loss of control kink, pet kink, creepy dominant Jumin, criminal setting, yandere, also some Yoosung X Seven and Jaehee X Zen Author’s Notes: Apologies to everyone who expected super filthy sex – after the last scene in chapter 8, my beta and I came to the conclusion that there was nothing left to add, so this epilogue is mainly to tie up the loose ends (though I remain open to the idea of an extra chapter of smut because who doesn’t love more of that, right? XD) That said, it transits nicely for the next project, which I let you discover at the end ~ enjoy!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

Chapter 9: Epilogue

“You know, I never understood why he chose to bury you here. It’s just so…not you” Simon stressed, then frowned at his inability to express himself better. He didn’t mean the emplacement of her grave, not really; no one could have argued that the place wasn’t as exceptionally beautiful as the girl it guarded. Delicate flowers constantly bloomed around the headstone, like each of them was a tear from the angel engraved at its top; even the leaves of the willows surrounding it seemed to weep with gentle elegance, which was everything Erika had been.  Gentle. Elegant. And weeping, though most of them were too jaded or tactful to remember that fact. 

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a world without suffering, Simon?..” she used to ask. Hopeful, at first, as all idealists are; no amount of problems ever seem too many for serious caritative work to overcome, especially once the cure for the lentivirus was found. Years and repetition, however, slowly moved her focus from those solved to those remaining, until simple math laid the truth bare; it’d never be enough.  For one tree of misery down, a whole forest grew in its place; and while a more philosophical person would have argued that it was even more reason to keep trying, Erika’s fire turned inwards instead.  Guilt for those she was unable to save burned her soul like a fiery sun, and whereas despair drove her mind to radical cultism in the first loop, here she just escaped her cousin’s fretful watch, picked a bunch of syringes and walked straight into an odopium den.

With predictable results, considering the crazed junkies inside, although he wasn’t sure she had anticipated just how utterly brutal a death it would be. If not for herself, then for her loved ones; he couldn’t believe she was so far gone that she hadn’t considered how traumatizing it would be for Yvan to scrap her remains off the floor.  Perhaps she had simply thought they’d choke or bludgeon her to get the drug, and that eternal darkness wouldn’t come first soaked in red.  

Or maybe she did know, and chose to do it nonetheless; it’s not like she left a note to explain any of it. V swore it had been suicide by proxy and nothing else, and though it had certainly had been, Simon liked to think there had been more to it; that her recklessness had in fact been defiance, like a giant middle finger to the Fates that governed this world. It comforted him like a mug of hot chocolate, whenever he thought too hard about his own predicament, to imagine there had been meaning to an otherwise pointless end; to entertain that perhaps she had known, too, and sought her own exit. The theory that her own script prescribed that she always brought people down with her could be as good as any, after all; it was possible that she tried a scenario where it didn’t mean for innocents or her fiancé to suffer needlessly.

Not that she could verify it or that it actually worked even a teensy little bit; as such, he supposed Jehan’s choice of scenery made some kind of sense, at least on a symbolic level. Erika slept forever in her little plot of paradise, and the path to it was bordered with hellish gore; people who were crucified, dismembered, hanging by their entrails in a chorus of agonized moans that could be heard all the way up to the bridge like supplicants waiting to cross to the other side, her side, where forgiveness and peace might wait.

They certainly wouldn’t find any on this side. Identifiable as Jumin as Jehan might be, he had none of his Christian faith or capacity for mercy; and while V might have once have the heart to influence his friend, this version actually thanked him for being so gruesome.  Simon would have called it a perversion of the established order, but the recent events made him doubt he could even cling to that as a reference to what was supposed to be.

Hence why he was here.

“I don’t know where to begin, to be honest” he said out loud. Thoughts were bouncing in his head like in a ping-pong game, and it was hard to pick what was the most important. “I know you’d say to start with the beginning, but there’s not much on that side. We found the Chinese goods – thankfully, God, we did, otherwise I don’t know how many people Jehan would have shot to motivate us, I mean he was so pissed when his pet had her meltdown—” he rambled, then winced at his choice of words. There was really no hope if even he had internalized her as pet rather than girl, which was both the crux of the problem and not.

“It broke Yvan, in any case” he continued with practiced detachment.  He wasn’t sure if he had seen the girl or not, but the crazed look in his eyes when he had raced in his apartment left no doubt that he had pieced enough to understand, and, well — Simon had done his best to distract him with his dick, but hadn’t been able to stay hard very long once Yvan suggested he could be his puppy.  It wasn’t just the frail way he said it, like he was trying to make the girl’s plight okay by embracing it too, but his own reaction to the idea; for a brief second, he had been tempted to agree. It’d be trading a scar for another, sure, but Yvan would be happy, and—

He had snarled in disgust, at himself, as a warning, and Yvan hadn’t understood and ran away in tears, and he had been left... not caring, because he really didn’t, but... wondering. For all the worsening of the loop, it was still the first time he thought Yvan could have been happy.

And the girl was happy too, from what he understood. It was a horrible kind of happy, but she was happy nonetheless, blissfully so, apparently. Rumour had it that she rolled at Jehan’s feet every night in an imitation of a cat begging to be played with, with no sound out her lips but mewls of delight. Not that Jehan ever confirmed it, but the walls weren’t totally soundproofed, and she wasn’t exactly discreet in her appreciation of him. And if that was truly the case, then…

“I suppose I should mention her friend too, before going any further” he sighed. It hadn’t been pleasant to go behind his brother’s back and check the logs of his “volunteers” – poor saps who didn’t know better and were roped in with promises of a fat paycheck and an entry point into Jehan’s organization. Once they realized they were to be used as lab rats for his odopium’s experimentations until madness ensued, it was typically much too late.

He wondered if Maria had known the risks and still soldiered on for the sake of her friend, or if her demise at been by design. Another wish gone wrong, phrased wrong, “please, God, give me another opportunity to reach her”, and the next morning in the newspapers, that treacherous ad shining like gold—

Not that it mattered. The only detail of importance was that she hadn’t succeeded, because the previous times her role had; and while he at first had chalked it up to the worsening of the loop, suddenly he wasn’t so sure. Her death, cruel as it was, had after all reinforced the chances of the girl becoming Jehan’s pet, and thus, happy—

And, well, what if the loop wasn’t worsening every time, as he first assumed, but just… reverting?

Which was easily the most horrifying theory he ever had. To think perhaps what he considered the first world was in fact the last, and that the pendulum was just swinging back to its previous status quo, and that everyone would soon become so… twistedly happy again?

He’d rather die than ever having to find out what that meant for everyone, though he suspected dying wouldn’t be quite enough.

“I thought you would understand best” he confessed to the tomb. Since she made the same wish, in her way, it stood to reason she would give him her blessings was she alive.

“I’m going to make another wish to be free of the loop, ‘Rika” he admitted at last, his voice strengthening as his will took shape. “But not for myself, this time. I’m going to wish that every fucked up part of ourselves go their merry way to have their own brand of happy, in their own bibbity bobbity universe, I don’t give a shit as long as it let us return to what is right. Jumin will turn back into that good old robot we all know and love, and his Jehan part will go fuck girls into his obedient pets in another dimension, and it if it means I’m condemning a whole galaxy to misery, then so be it. I mean we’ll never know, right? We’ll be happy. And you’ll be too, this time, damn it.”

There was sudden gust of wind, a gentle breeze like a caress against his cheek, and he smiled one last time before pushing the words out his mouth:

“I wish…”

///THE END (…?)

A/N: “Puppy, why did you end it so quickly? We were just getting to the good part!” I hear you say. Not because I’m tired of writing, fear not, but because as I wrote this story I began to be more and more frustrated by the restraints of it being a fanfic – meaning I had to respect Jumin’s boundaries as a character, no matter how much I twisted him, and that severely limited me in what I could do with him. I dunno for you, but I want more – I want a story with a Jumin-type character where I can go all out on the kink scale without having to hold myself back because shit that’s not Jumin-esque enough. I want him psychopathic. I want him creepy as fuck. I want him out of his yandere mind at power 100000000000.

And so, I thought…why not? Better yet; why limit myself to written words? Why not a drama CD out of it, so we can lie on our beds and hear a sweet maniac romance us into being his pet?

For those still thirsting for MM, fear not, I still have Sharing is Caring to complete! For those who love the idea though, I leave you with this teaser while I prepare further material:

See you all soon! <3