#honestly i cannot look at black and red tiles the same again after this story

[valor-selfships]

Children of Omen: Prologue Side S

So I followed through on that plot idea I had. I’ll be reblogging this post with a link to it on AO3 and to the full summary, so check the notes for that. Now, on with the story...

SUMMARY: In response to an omen from a trusted advisor that the birth of a child to one of his Capos in December will mark the beginning of the end of his reign, the Boss orders the death of all children fitting that criteria. Unfortunately for Bruno Bucciarati and Risotto Nero, they are both fathers-to-be of children under that umbrella. Unwilling to sacrifice their flesh and blood, they defect from Passione with the rest of their teams, knowing full well the dangers they face, and allying with each other despite their differences in order to protect the innocent lives whose only mistake was being made.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: pregnancy, talk of infanticide, period mention

RATING: T

PROLOGUE SIDE S - RISOTTO NERO AND PROSCIUTTO

Prosciutto likes to think that he doesn't make foolish decisions. But now, sitting on his bathroom floor, staring at a positive pregnancy test? He's really not so sure of that anymore.

Either he is and always has been a fool and just didn't want to accept it, or he has made exactly one (or... well, maybe more than one, but only one that matters in this case) foolish decision in his life, that has led him here. Both possibilities are difficult to accept.

He clenches his jaw so hard he can feel the muscle start to cramp up, but fuck, he really doesn't see that as much of an issue right now compared to what he's facing down right in front of him. This is, by far, the most formidable foe he has faced in his entire life.

Who would have ever thought that it would end up being the child his body is working to protect and grow right now?

Putting his hands over his face, Prosciutto leans back against the cabinet underneath the sink, his breathing heavy and uneven. He doesn't hate the baby, and honestly, that's the worst part about all of this. No, he doesn't hate the little life he's made with the man he's chosen to love. In fact, he's already starting to grow attached to them, and he's certain that as this pregnancy progresses, he's only going to fall more in love with them. That's his baby, for God's sake. Something would be wrong with him if he felt nothing at all, he thinks.

But, again, that's just the problem. Getting pregnant in the first place was a terrible move on his part, and now starting to grow attached to the life that's only barely just begun is turning out to be his next terrible decision.

And to think this whole debacle started with an email, of all things.

Two hours previously, Prosciutto enters the private room of Risotto Nero. It's a room he's become very familiar with over the past year; in this room, they've stood and talked, made out in the closet, and made love on the bed, far more times than either of them care to count. For the time being, though, he's just here to talk with his Capo.

"You called me in?" The blonde asks, slowly making his way over to Risotto. He's hunched over the laptop on the desk in the corner, black-and-red eyes focused. "Is something wrong?"

"... it's a message from the Boss," Risotto says lowly. "And I'm not entirely sure why, but I have a very... disturbing feeling about it."

Prosciutto goes to his side, reads the message in its entirety.

To all Passione Capos,

Greetings, and apologies for the sudden and urgent correspondence, but it has come to my attention that there will soon be a traitor among our ranks.

A source close to me whom I trust dearly has let me know of a message most dire: there is a plan by a group of fanatics to remove me from my status as your Don. According to my source, they are heavily involved in the occult, and believe that the birth of a certain child in this year's month of December, to one of my Capos, will mark the beginning of the end for me.

I believe you understand why this cannot happen. And you may have started to understand what I am ordering you to do.

I know all of you are loyal to me completely. But no chances can be taken. If you, or anyone on your team, is to give birth to a child in this year's month of December, you will be expected to bring the child upon its birth to the location enclosed within this email. At that time, you may either dispose of it yourself, or there will be someone there to dispose of it for you. You are free to do what you wish with the remains once it is over; that is of no concern to anyone. But there cannot be any child left living born to any member of this organization during this year's month of December, unless we wish for the organization itself to crumble into dust.

This must be done for the sake of us all. Needless to say, if it is discovered that any of you do not come forth... you will be seen as working with those who wish to betray me. And traitors do not meet peaceful ends.

I trust you all will do the right thing.

By the end of the message, Prosciutto's face has gone deathly pale. Risotto turns to look at him for just a moment.

"Prosciutto," he says, his voice low and soft. "Is there a chance. Any chance at all?"

Prosciutto swallows heavily, finding his mouth and throat suddenly dry and tight. "My period is three days late," he says quietly. "And I - cannot recall how successful we were the last time I had you pull out of me." To be fair, the couple normally has condoms on hand. But that night, there were a few key differences in their situations: they were both incredibly drunk, and very sexually frustrated, in desperate need of each other's release. God damn everything.

Prosciutto stands. "I am going to go down to the corner store down the road and buy a few of the early detection tests. They tend to be more accurate, anyway. I..." He takes a shuddering breath. "I would like to be alone while I take them, so I'll do that back at my home. As soon as I can, I will let you know the results of the test."

And thus, we return here, to Prosciutto sitting on the cold tile floor of his bathroom. He gives a slow, steady exhale, scrubs his hands over his face one last time, and then stands.

He needs to speak to Risotto, and then they need to talk to Melone. Time is not on their side, and they need to know immediately how far along he is and when he is due to have this baby.

Prosciutto's gut feeling tells him this is not going to end in his favor.

---

"Alright, well, if the data I've got from you about your last period is accurate, as well as the information I figured out from the pelvic exam, then you, Prosciutto, are close to eight weeks pregnant."

It's been about an hour since Prosciutto hurriedly told Risotto that he is indeed pregnant, and then proceeded to drag him from his house all the way into his waiting car and then to Melone's residence. Prosciutto is nearly manic, on the verge of breaking down into either hysterical laughter or sobs the whole time (but, by some miracle or the grace of God, managing to do neither). 

Risotto has never seen him like this, and does not wish to ever again.

And now here they are.

Upon hearing how far along he is, Prosciutto finds himself far too scattered to do the math himself, so he asks: "Melone, assuming I carry to full term, when is the baby due?"

"Hmm... should actually be sometime around Christmas," Melone replies casually. He doesn't know yet about the letter, so the confusion on his face is evident when Prosciutto stands straight up, his face completely blank.

"Excuse me for a moment," he says, half in a mumble and half in a whisper, before turning on his heel and almost running down the hall.

"Is he okay?" Melone asks Risotto as he, too, gets to his feet, albeit not nearly as dramatically. "I mean, I get that this's pretty shocking, but I've never seen him act like this before. Are you two fighting or something?"

"I'll tell you everything as soon as I can," is all Risotto says before taking off in the same direction as Prosciutto had a few moments earlier.

As it turns out, he doesn't have to look very hard to find Prosciutto. All he really has to do, actually, is listen.

From the other side of the thick bathroom door at the end of the hallway, Risotto can easily hear Prosciutto's heartbroken cries. He's crying. He's so upset, that he's resorted to shedding tears. And the very worst part is...

Risotto isn't sure if there's anything he can do or say right now to ease his lover's inner turmoil.

Even so, he needs to try. Risotto pushes open the bathroom door after knocking a few times. Prosciutto is hunched over the sink, bracing himself against it with the palms of his hands and his arms, his head hung low as he sobs freely. When Risotto steps up beside him and puts a hand between his shoulder blades, Prosciutto looks up a little to look into his eyes.

"What - what have we done, Risotto?" He barely whispers. "What have we done?"

Risotto thinks for a moment on how to answer that, then reaches up to thread his fingers through Prosciutto's soft, silky blonde hair.

"What have we done?" Risotto repeats, as though analyzing the question. "Oh, tesoro, cuore mio, we have done nothing wrong. We have created the most beautiful thing any human could ever dream of: a life. A child. Un nostro bambino." He rests his hand -- so large, warm, and safe -- on Prosciutto's belly after pushing his shirt up just enough so that he can trace circles on his bare, pale, beautiful skin. "Ultimately, the decision on what to do about this is yours. I would never dream of forcing your hand." He pauses for a moment. "Either way, two clear paths lie before us: either we remain loyal to the Boss and Passione by following through on the orders we've been given..." Prosciutto fights back another sob, blinking away more tears before focusing on Risotto again as he continues to speak. "... or we become traitors against the Boss and Passione, and risk our lives and everything we are -- everything we know -- all for the sake of the beautiful little child we've made together."

Prosciutto sniffs, wipes his hand across his face. "Risotto... it isn't you who has forced my hand here." He rests his hand over Risotto's -- the one on his belly -- biting down on his lip before continuing on. "I -- I don't care who the damn order came from. I don't give a shit about what happens to some man whose name and face we don't know and have never seen. I love you, and I love the little piece of you that you gave me, that I gave a piece of myself to, that became the life that depends on me now." Prosciutto swallows heavily. "Fuck the Boss. Fuck Passione. I only want -- I only need -- you, and our child. I will -- I will never sacrifice any child of ours for any reason. I know full well what this means, but we aren't the best assassins and criminals for nothing."

Steeling his resolve, Prosciutto finally lifts his head and straightens up.

"I choose to have this baby with you. And if that means the end of my days of crime forever? Then so be it. It's a small price to pay for a treasure as beautiful and perfect as the one we have made together."

Gently, Risotto turns Prosciutto around to face him fully, then cups his cheek with his free hand. Despite the severity of what they're doing, and the danger that they are no doubt throwing themselves into... he feels no fear, nor dread within him. He only feels an immense and powerful love for the man standing in front of him, no doubt the bravest man he's ever known, if only because of this moment.

A beaming smile stretches across Risotto's face as he leans down to press his forehead gently against Prosciutto's. "In that case, I will stand by you, vita mia. Il mio cuore batte solo per te."

Prosciutto lets out a tiny, soft laugh. "Dammi un bacio, you hopeless romantic."

The two of them kiss, and it's perfect, and passionate, and filled with desire and love and hope for the future. They both know what they've done, what they're doing, and what they're about to do. This is the right thing.

Their journey has only just begun.

[rayalez]

A demon in fumes

This is but a dream, not a story with a plot and characters nor a self help piece. It’s all just a dream. This one though, wasn’t lucid, I am pretty sure it wasn’t. Lucidity is where your conscious and unconscious collide, my unconscious did not play it’s part. Of all the things I see in my sleep, this is one of the very few times it took me a long while to figure out the whole thing wasn’t real, I still believe it was, but if it was, I wouldn’t be documenting it here and now. It’s funny how easy it is to die, it’s like bringing down a tower of sticks; all it takes is one little tiny flick.

It wasn’t a dream even, it was a horrifying nightmare. This reality and another were bridged so perfectly I thought I was going to be sucked into a portal into nothing. I was asleep in my bed, lakeshore, an industrial, mundane replica of every residential tower in the city, strongly lit and cold in the hallways, walls are made of thin paper you can hear dumb murmur seep in whenever you turn off your TV, dwellers reek of crippling elitism and animals are forced to live with their shit. It is a tower of sticks inside and out.

It was a common, clear sky night, repeated over and over again, curtains were half closed and the street lights shone into the window reflecting the sticky notes and prototypes I stuck up the window, projecting deformed rectangular animated shapes upon the ceiling with each headlight that passes around the pit (a roundabout where people go crazy in the morning fighting on a spot). Everything else was black. I realised I was awake a while after I saw the regular image of my ceiling, it looked more like a lake of fake, rectangular lilies disturbed by a paddling dog.

My brain probably suspected sleep paralysis and registered as a mere vision. I was awake, laying in bed, a strong unnerving feeling of distress and discomfort fell upon me, it suddenly became a sensation of a sinister presence sprung from beneath the tiles, a summoning spell cast by a mage coming after me from afar.

I sensed an immense, breathing shadow as if a human sized crow stood on actual human feet, I couldn’t control my breathing, my heart was invaded and was filling up with fright, an ominous figure was standing in one of the corners staring at me for a brief moment, I saw nothing after. I got up, it took a world of will and energy, took a few staggered baby steps, and turned on the light, it went off within seconds, I gradually closed my eyes, couldn’t muster enough power to turn around, I turned it on again, it went off again, on, off, on off and as I tried, That menacing breathing thingy felt closer, I knew there was something, I could feel it, I was paralysed I couldn't breath, I almost fainted, that heavy breathing down my neck sent a jolt of electricity, a groan of fright escaped me, along with a few childhood memories.

I honestly cannot put into words how that felt, a terrifying, numbing fraction of my life that is here to stay. I don’t really think it was a reality, at least not the current reality, where I account for nothing and a day is measured by a human invention, time. It’s a visit, just a visit, It would be stupid to assume I was born outside of time, as in, outside of rounded time, but if I was, and that visit was in the current reality; then this “demon” is here to take me back to the common calendar where I belong, but how is it any of it’s business? this is all dumb, an ancient goddess lost a game of domino to a deity and this happens, to me?

One of Hussein al Barghouti’s autobiographies mentions this, Isis; also known as “Mother of god” lost a game of dominos to one of the great gods and the lunar calendar was adjusted forever, 360 days instead 365, these five days were dubbed “Lost time” “Born outside of time” they’d say.

How do I say to this thing “I was born inside of time, get the fuck out?”

I cannot count the times I was paralysed in a dream, seriously, the amount of things that suck the living hell out of my soul and leave me numb and disabled are infinite and, sadly enough, not only in dream world, depression is death in life.

My legs finally failed me, I felt my pupils widening like a tiger ready to pounce, but I wasn’t ready for shit, I ran out of the door as fast as “humanly” possible and closed the door behind me. For some odd reason, the peephole in my door was working both ways, which is kinda fucked up if you ask me, but came in handy now. I took a deep breath after an inner struggle debating if I should flee or have a look, I peeped into the tiny glass circle and it was there, as it turns out, I wasn’t born “Outside of time” I was born in 1986 on a dank rainy night, my mom said she sensed a spirit squatting on her chest as I slid out in a whirlpool of blasphemies and moist dark hair.

At first I thought I saw a skinny figure covering it’s face with the back it’s hands, it’s eyes were naturally embedded into each palm, “The pale man” from “Pan’s Labyrinth” a film where a little girl gets lost in an eerie fantasy world, finds a portal to a tiny room in a wall and encounters a faceless skin on skeleton that feasts of fairies.

I ran like all hell, wailing like a widow.

It’s all hazy, but I think it put one palm against the peephole and, that eye, that eye into the palm of his hand looked into mine and blinked. I got startled and jumped back barely catching my breath, Other animals were partying before I went to bed, that’s why I remember this I think, but while this whole thing was happening, a faint Pantera song was playing in the background, It was “Domination” from the album “Cowboys from hell” specifically where Dime plays the most life altering time bending solo known to man at 3:15.

I ran downstairs to the front desk, unable to talk and panting and barely dragging myself, all was normal again, I knew I was seeing things, I gradually restored a bit of sanity, there was someone there, there were lights, it was the same old hallway with the dumb paintings on the walls, celebrate this chance to be, alive and breathing, while you can, there will be green and dust, there will be light and stuff, and I’ll be one of these dumb things. The guy on the front desk began to melt and everything, lights, walls, tiles turned red, It is a twisted fucking joke, everything, what’s the point of all of this?

The hallway turned into a pond of the living dead, a lake of blood broke in from outside the building, I realised I was dreaming, fortunately, but still, shaking myself awake isn’t going to happen, it’s not something I could do. I crawled back upstairs, the sea of blood kept rising, carrying transparent bodies, souls that couldn’t afford to pass the river styx.

I sat in front of my door for what felt like an hour, I know it was a mere second but still is an hour, maybe this human invention “time” isn’t bullet proof and should be reworked. I looked again into the thing, you’ll never get it, you’ll never ever get how you get this courage to do dumb things in this reality, I looked again but it was gone, I slowly opened the door and walked in, kept reminding my self not to touch the light switch. I was hoping the door doesn’t close behind me like in the movies, and no I did not say “Hello? is someone there?” I did not, that’s just idiotic. I stood right next to my desk, a dead plant sat there shedding leaves with every door slam. Pantera kept playing, faintly still, the hallway light cast from the wide open door meant limited, physical safety, and that was it, It wasn’t a pale man nor a dark spirit, I found myself in the middle of utter silence hearing only my own breathing, I was calm, only here and now, only here. I thought my heart is going to stop and I started seeing colours intertwining around my ceiling light. It stood two meters high on hooves, antlers swirled within faint, white smoke disguising it’s ears. Its face was stark lifeless, still, eyes were dead and teeth of a jaw clenched like a monkey wrench.

Antlers were always a recurring element of most of these dreams. This one though, this one was not of an animal,

Source: Someone at deviantart

It was this guy, in my room, standing there doing nothing:That’s exactly how he/she/it looked like. Well isn’t that cute?

A demon in fumes was originally published in Fiction Hub on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

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