#i also think he took some time to seethe but it's objectively hilarious for him to go there IMMEDIATELY

[golden-anon]

oh hey look it's my tags !!

[prose-for-hire]

Party of two

Pairing: Spike x vamp!reader

Request: "Don't fight it. Or do. I like them feisty." With Spike

Requested by: @sunflower-stan​

Warning: Spike is violent in the flashback. Siring/biting. Spike and reader are evil and they kill people (not described much).

A/N: Wouldn’t be Halloween without soulless vampires doing evil things. (I know I romanticise him a lot but I wanted to make this more of a twisted relationship – but this is me so it might just end up very romanticised. It’s a Halloween lucky dip – enjoy!)

You sighed contently, staring out of the balcony into the dark night. You turned when you heard him walking towards you, a smile you couldn’t drop from your face as you saw him. You adored his face, especially when he changed to his vampire form. There was something about it. His yellow eyes that saw into your soul (or, where your soul should be). His ridged forehead that you loved to caress in such a way he barely changed to his more human-like face unless to entice someone for you both to take home.

“Happy dead-iversary, love” He smirked, pulling you in for a kiss. It would have knocked the breath out of your body, if you had any that is. You grinned as he handed you the small pocket watch that had been in your family for decades previous. You thought it had gone missing with your soul, never to be found again.

“I thought this was lost! I missed it so much!” You clutched it to your heart, smiling at the object before smiling back at his face.

“Sorry, pet. Took some findin’ but – you deserve it” He said softly, his hand under your chin with such affection it was impossible to remember him treating you any other way.

“Thank you! I love you, William!” you say, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing slightly. He affirmed his own feelings as he led you into the other room, where a decadent display had been set up. A small celebration of the date. Just for the two of you. You smiled, looking around at everything he had done.

It had been another half hour and he had noticed your spirits weren’t as high as they had been previously. He was concerned, you usually enjoyed Halloween.

“Two decades of death and what have I done with my time?” You sigh, staring down at your party outfit. Sulking slightly. Spike had thrown you an elaborate death-day celebration that you were very grateful for. Yet you had this nagging feeling. You had thought the beginning of your unlife would have come with more success. Perhaps a mention in Vampire weekly. Or a couple more massacres under your belt. You were still recovering from almost dying in Sunnydale at the hands of the slayer. Luckily, Spike had found a way for the both of you to escape unscathed.

“Pet, you’ve done plenty. You bagged a slayer! Don’t get much sweeter” He assured you, coming up behind you and running his hands down your arms. He rested the side of his head against yours. You both closed your eyes, savouring the contact. It always felt so good by his side.

“But other vampires have done things. Big things and what can I say for myself?”

“You’ve only been dead 20 years, now ain’t the time for a bloody mid-death crisis” he sighed, noting your mood, “Do you trust me?”

“Always” You confirmed, it was second-nature now. It was you and him against the world.

“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be” He assured you, “I’ve got another surprise, come with me” He grabbed your hand tugging you outside and down the street. He had heard of a Halloween party he knew you would enjoy crashing.

“Do you remember it, love?” He asked as you walked, referring to your siring. And you did, it was now one of your favourite memories. One you cherished dearly, because it brought you Spike.

“Like it was only yesterday” You smiled dreamily, moving further into his side instantly and smiling at a memory that had horrified you in the moment. Now, it was laughable. Hilarious at how weak you had been. You stalked over to the house together, both thinking of the same moment.

When your hands connected, tangling your fingers together, you were taken back to that moment….

You had been running. It was Halloween, you were brusquely walking through the streets of your hometown. A desperate fear coursing through you. You sped up, hearing the noises behind you. The noises that could only be someone following. Someone following with bad intentions. You could feel them, dripping with evil with every heavily booted step towards you. You turned, looking over your shoulder. But there was nobody there.

The chill that ran up your spine told you otherwise. You had tried desperately to cling to the idea that you were being paranoid. You were just spooked because it was Halloween… right?

No matter what you told yourself, you started to panic. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears. A dizzying fright that you couldn’t escape. The feeling trapped you before he did. A cold sweat now dripping from your forehead. He licked his lips, almost able to taste it. The salty despair that would soon be mixing with your blood.

You were clutching your pocket watch, checking the time, trying to get home before midnight. It was Halloween and you had been told terrible things could happen on Halloween your entire life. A notion you would hold long after your death.

He stopped you finally, he had enough of toying with you now. He knew better than to take this for granted, it was Halloween after all. Nothing was supposed to happen on Halloween. He slammed you into the wall of the alleyway, rolling his eyes at your naivety. Every time, no matter how large the threat they always ran into sodding alleyways.

“What a pretty trinket, sadly where you’re goin’ – you won’t have much use for it” he shrugged, a cruel smile on his lips as he threw it over his shoulder. You whimpered when you heard the watch smash against something hard. You retracted your arm, balling your hand into a fist as you swung at him. He caught it. You raised your knee to catch him in the groin, but he managed to swerve that too. He restrained you a little too easily as you struggled helplessly against him, “Don't fight it. Or do. I like them feisty." He smiled, cruel intentions twisting his face. No. This wasn’t a trick of the light. It was actually his face – it had changed. His forehead growing bumpy and overhanging. His jaw moving to allow for prominent fangs to jut out from his mouth. His eyes bore into yours the same way. His amusement at your reaction to being so close to death made him pause, even a fraction.

You started to run during his brief pause but he just rolled his eyes, pushing your shoulders back hard into the rough brick. You realised there was no escape. No hope.

You grasped his hand, almost pleadingly. Wordlessly begging for him to stop. For him to just turn away and leave you. A stray tear slid down your cheek as he surprisingly gripped your hand back. He was shown something. A future possibility…

What he saw was twenty years ahead. You by his side, weaving your fingers between his. Halloween decorations ripped down around the both of you. Your mouths running red as did the scene before him. The ceilings and walls a beautiful crimson hue.

The bodies lay around you, face down. The lives you had carelessly used and tossed aside. Drank your fill. Scared a few senseless – it did appear to be Halloween after all. You were the only one he would break tradition for. You were invincible together. And he felt it, just from the one touch.

He saw the glint in your eyes. The sheer joy at the destruction you had created together. Your smile lit up your face, your features only enhanced by the blood trickling from the sides of your mouth.

He took his free hand and wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The look you gave him penetrating and exhilarated. The euphoria of a fresh kill beside your love. He knew what this look meant somehow and he smirked into it.

You move in, your lips meeting his. The thick, tangy liquid mixing with your saliva. You reached and placed your hands, also red, on either side of his face as you kissed him with such passion he was snapped back into his present.

There he was, looking at you his head to the side in confusion. Had you seen it too? No. You couldn’t have done, you were still shaking like a leaf.

He must help you, the way he was helped. He was sent here, on Halloween for a reason. To bring you to life, reanimate you in a way you could thrive. You had merely been surviving until this moment. He was going to save you. Going to take you places you had never even dreamt of before.

“Do you want to live forever, love?” He asked, but it gained no response – you were still mourning your family heirloom and what appeared to be your own life too, “I mean it. Bloody answer me would you? All I’m askin’ is a polite agreement and we can get this started” he said, shaking you by the shoulders to make you face him again. You were so tired, you nodded and closed your eyes.

He moved your head to the side, exposing your neck. His face twisted and you whimpered again, your eyes had cracked open slightly and you wished you hadn’t. He hushed you. Stroking the back of your head, trying to cling to some of the affection he had felt towards you in the vision of the future he had stumbled onto moments before. He understood, he too had been confused when he had been sired. But he would be there, show you the way.

He bit into you and you started to claw at his back feebly, not sure what you had just agreed to. The seething pain a strange sensation, it started to feel so far away. As if you were watching the scene from above. His fangs were deep in your neck as he sucked the life almost completely out of you, leaving just enough. Enough for you to be conscious.

He nicked his palm with his own fang, a line straight along from one side to the other. He pressed his palm against your mouth. He held the back of your head down, willing you to know what to do on instinct. You started to lap at the cut as if you hadn’t had anything to drink for weeks. He smiled through the stinging, enjoying every moment. Willing you to last until that party. Suddenly willing to have you by his side.

The bond forming, sealed with your shared blood. The blood that was now starting to circulate around your body.

“Welcome to your first real night of living, pet” He muttered in your ear as you eyesight went fuzzy and your head rolled back. Your body had still been shaking as you knew you were about to die. You weren’t entirely sure you believed him, trusted that whatever you had just done would bring you back later. He scooped you up, carrying you all the way to the crypt he had been living in alone.

This was the one of many Halloween’s since he had met you, that Spike had been pleased he had left the lair for the night.

[allycat-writes]

Before Happily Ever After

A/N: I’m currently in the middle of making my husband play Until Dawn (as Certified Rami Malek Trash ™️) and Josh owns my entire heart and (without spoilers) that boy deserves some goddamn happiness. Shout out, once again, to my darling best friend @fahrenheit39 for her constant support and not murdering me for having her look over my her constant rewrites and near-panic over if it’s any good or not.

Also, depending on how good the response is......dare I say there might be more chapters?

Warnings: Major swearing. Slight angst but mostly fluffy.

Part 2

“Jesus Christ, Josh. Are you sure we should go in there?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy next to you. You’d been best friends with Josh since kindergarten practically.

“Aw, come on, babe, it can’t be that bad. What’s the worst that could happen, Y/N?” Josh asked, grinning back. You regarded him warily as he started towards the building looming in front of you.

“I swear, Josh, if this is some sort of prank, I’m never speaking to you again. It’s a sanitarium for fuck’s sake!” you called over to him.

“You can stay out here if you want to, babe. But you’ll be out here all alone,” he called back, turning to give you a grin as he continued towards the building.

“Fuck you, Washington! I cannot believe I let you talk me into this shit. Would you at least wait for me, dickhead?” Josh stopped, holding his arms up.

“Anything you say, princess.” You huffed in annoyance as you jogged over to where he waited. “Well?”

“Well what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him again.

“Well, lead the way, princess,” Josh replied, smirking.

“What, so you can disappear on me? Absolutely not. You go first.” Josh chuckled, shaking his head. He started forward again, the two of you walking in silence. He reached the door and opened it, stepping inside. You took a deep breath before following him, your breath catching in your chest. “Jesus Christ,” you breathed, taking in the destroyed surroundings. Josh let out a low whistle as he started forwards again.

“Would you look at this shit, Y/N?” Your eyes scanned the room, landing on a sign hanging above a door frame.

“There’s a chapel?” you asked, starting hesitantly towards the cracked door. You paused, reaching out to take Josh’s hand, pulling him with you. Josh laughed.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little abandoned building.”

“First off, this building is huge. Not little by any means. And second, who wouldn’t feel at least slightly less concerned of anything that could be lurking here with a six foot tall macho man with you?” you replied, still tugging him along.

“I’m coming, babe, you don’t need to pull me with you,” Josh teased, a grin on his face. As you two reached the door, you were reaching to pull the door open when an inhuman screech echoed through the empty halls. You screamed, running back to the door, Josh stumbling after you, laughter tumbling from his lips as you raced back to the cabin. Once you were sure you were far enough away, you screamed again.

“Josh! What the actual fuck! Did you just get us into!” you exclaimed, punching his arm lightly between every pause. Josh doubled over in laughter, shaking his head.

“What the fuck was that? What’s fucking in there? Oh my god, that was hilarious,” he wheezed, leaning against you as you relaxed.

“Was that some fucking prank, you prick?!” you asked, finally starting to catch your breath.

“Princess, I promise you I have no fucking clue what that was. I honestly didn’t think anything would be in there but shit. That was a rush,” he paused, grinning at you again, “Let’s go back!”

“No! No way! I absolutely, positively REFUSE! No way in hell are you ever dragging me back to that horror show!! God, let’s just get back to the cabin before whatever that was finds us. What kind of animal makes that noise?” You shuddered as you started walking again.

“I will never forget that noise. That was like the greatest thing ever. Nothing could ever ruin this night,” Josh exclaimed, whooping into the silence of the night surrounding you two.

“You’re ridiculous! How are you not horrified by that? That could have been anything, Josh! God, it’s like you get off on this shit.”

“What do you mean? Adrenaline doesn’t get you going, angel?” he lightly taunted you, coming closer to wrap an arm teasingly around your waist. You pushed him off, your cheeks flushed. He chuckled as the two of you walked in silence. Once the cabin was in sight, you relaxed, sprinting to the cabin. Josh laughed, easily catching up to you. You shrieked as he picked you up, spinning you around.

“Joshua Washington, put me down right now!” you squealed as he threw you over his shoulder.

“Nope, gotta make sure you make it safely inside and no monsters getcha. Wouldn’t want a pretty thing like your face to be fucked up,” Josh teased, swatting your ass playfully. You were glad he couldn’t see your face as you felt it heat up, your entire face turning red at the attention from your best friend. As you reached the stairs of the cabin he set you down, giving you a wink as he held the door open for you. As you stepped into the house, you turned your head back to say something to Josh when something solid ran directly into you, knocking you back into Josh, who steadied you. You turned around to find Hannah clinging to you, tears streaming down her face.

“Hannah? Hannah, honey, what’s wrong? What happened? Is everyone okay?” you asked, smoothing her hair back as she cried. You lifted her glasses up to wipe her tears away, worry on your face as you soothed her.

“What did you sick fucks do to my sister?!” Beth yelled as Mike, Jessica, Emily, and Matt ran into the room, grinning. Their grins immediately dropped at Beth’s anger and your icy glare.

“It—It was just a prank,” Matt muttered, at least having the decency to look down, ashamed.

“Aw come on, it was harmless!” Mike started, before you cut him off.

“What the actual fuck did you guys do?” you hissed, passing Hannah to Josh, who wrapped his arms protectively around his sister, pulling her away to sit her on the couch.

“I’m guessing you’re the ones who wrote this stupid letter to her from Mike to make her think he was interested in her because you knew she had a crush on him?” Beth spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You did what?? Get the actual fuck out. I don’t care how you do it, I don’t care how late it is, get your shit and get out. Go ANYWHERE else. I cannot fucking believe you guys!” you yelled, gesturing towards the door.

“But it’s cold!” Emily objected, her eyes wide.

“Maybe you can use your daddy’s money to buy a functional coat. And while you’re at it, buy a fucking heart, too! But get out.” Sam came into the room, looking confused. You started to glare at her and then noticed her wet hair. You relaxed, rolling your eyes at her and she raised an eyebrow. Josh watched you from the couch with Hannah as you defended his sister and he felt his heart swell with an unmistakable feeling.

“Guy, come on, we deserve this,” Matt began, turning towards Hannah, “Han, I am so sorry for how awful we were. You don’t deserve this and we deserve to be banished. We really fucked up.”

“You guys can wait until the morning to leave,” Hannah sniffled, lifting her head off of Josh’s shoulder.

“Even with how you pricks treat her, she still shows you kindness,” Beth muttered, glaring at them. You sighed.

“I don’t want to fucking see any of you between now and the next time I happen to run into you back in the real world. Get the fuck out of my face,” you sighed, rubbing your hand over your eyes. All four scattered, Matt lingering with a guilty and remorseful look at Hannah before he was gone too. You collapsed against the door frame, still seething with rage. You looked back over to the couch, the anger leaving your body in a rush.

“Y/N. You,” Josh began, shaking his head. Beth made her way over to her twin, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. Josh stood up suddenly, crossing the room to you in five long strides before he pulled you close, his lips centimeters away from yours. “If you want me to stop, tell me,” he whispered, giving you a moment to object before pressing his lips passionately to yours. After he pulled away, he smiled down at you. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that? God, I love you.” You blinked a few times at the sudden revelation before you smiled, tangling a hand in his brown curls, pulling him back down to you.

“What the fuck did I miss?” Sam asked, her eyes wide as she looked over to Hannah and Beth. Beth shook her head fondly at her brother, glancing over at Hannah who was watching the scene with a soft smile.

————————————————————

Permenant Tag List:

@killerqueenofthenight

[petrachord]

astra inclinant (Chpt 2 out of 29)

Chapter Title: umbra

Translation: “shadow” or “ghost”

Fandom: One Piece

Links: AO3 and FFN

Once, Mother told him in secret that they’d wanted a second child for his sake.

“Why?” he asked and she had shook her head, an old little smile on her lips. She never did answer him, but Rosi arrived all the same.

He was very shy and meek, not one for confrontation. Did weird things like thanking and interacting with the slaves. Also cried. A lot.

They had nearly nothing in common, but he worshiped Doflamingo anyway. Followed him around everywhere and tried desperately to impress him. It gave Doflamingo all sorts of strange feelings inside he didn’t know how to account for. He supposed the slaves deferred to him as well, but Rosi was different. An equal. He didn’t have to constantly totter after him or call for him or really have anything to do with him at all.

But he seemed to want to. And he always did.

“I love you, brother,” Rosi would say sometimes, softly, as if he thought it needed to be said.

Doflamingo supposed he understood what Rosi meant. He appreciated Rosi’s love like he would a pretty sunrise—something he recognized at a distance and was always pleased by but could never quite fathom the idea of touching.

Not to say he didn’t try. Not to say he didn’t love him back in the only way he knew how.

“You are mine.”

===

It took a mere year for the Donquixote Family to make its name. They ran drug rings and slave trade, smuggling weapons to the hands of tyrants. Entire towns burned to the ground and grown men begged for the lives before expiring. There was blood enough for days.

Trebol and Diamante praised Doflamingo endlessly for their successes, attributing him to their growing power and the spreading horror of their names. It was rather funny how satisfied they were already.

Because he sure as fuck wasn’t.

The enterprise required expansion and when he turned seventeen, he declared they’d be taking their business to the seas. Pica and Diamante laughed uproariously, fantasizing of plunder and women and luxury. Trebol’s thoughts were of prestige and fame, rambling from then on about emperors and warlords.

Perhaps people like them could not understand. There was only one objective Doflamingo gave a rat’s ass about and that had nothing to do with treasure or the absurd system of the Shichibukai.

Only Vergo seemed to have half a clue.

“Piracy, huh?” he pondered once, leaning against the rail of their most recently…commandeered ship, “You’ve a knack for poetics, Doffy.”

Doflamingo rested his chin on a palm. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Going out onto the waves,” Vergo’s shades glinted beneath the noon rays, reflecting the crisp waters, “A full circle.”

Doflamingo snickered. He immensely enjoyed these moments of perception from Vergo.

“We’re all buried at sea.”

A small smile crossed Vergo’s lips as he lit another cigarette. The wind was blowing out to the waves, heady tobacco blending together with the salt spray. Doflamingo inhaled, focusing upon it.

And didn’t bother acknowledging the shadow of eight-year old Rosinante sitting on the rail between them.

===

The hallucinations had begun out of nowhere. One moment, Doflamingo was having the time of his life, pounding into some moaning tart in the backroom of a local pub and the next Rosi was standing at the edge of the bed, peering into his face.

Doflamingo swore, nearly crushing the girl in his rush to scramble off of her. His recent growth spurt had made him long and heavy, and the dresser tipped over when he kicked it accidentally.

The girl didn’t even seem to notice the thundering crash it made. She didn’t even seem to notice he was gone at all, as she lay sprawled on the bed still, gasping, a blush of pleasure across her snowy cheeks.

Doflamingo’s mouth went dry. Rosi straightened, hands behind his back, as if he were about to start rocking on his heels. He looked exactly the same as when Doflamingo had last seen him. Sweat and dirt-stained, clothes worn, that thumbprint of their father’s blood at the corner of his chin from where Doflamingo had touched him.

Rationally, it couldn't have been real. He still surveyed the islands across the North Blue and kept a tap on the local news, but had long stopped expecting anything. It had been seven years after all. At this point, Rosi was either dead or didn’t want to be found.

“No,” Doflamingo growled, “No, no, you don’t get to do this to me.”

“What was that, hon?” the girl murmured, eyes clearing, “Hey, what are you doing over there? Fun’s back this way, big boy.”

She sat up, slinking right past Rosi. Her long hair was still dark and wet with rainwater. She smelled of her muddy traipse through the storm when Diamante had demanded whores for company. A cool bird-like hand took him by the wrist, guiding it to her lily-white breast.

“Come on now,” she said softly, fingers resting over his knuckles, “Don’t be shy.”

Doflamingo yanked his hand back and made her jump.

“Shut up.” He pointed toward the side of the bed, right at Rosi’s blank face. “Do you see anything there? Just nod or shake your head.”

The girl looked startled, hesitating a beat that made Doflamingo want to smack her in his impatience. But then she turned, glancing at his brother without comprehension and shook her head.

Doflamingo refused to let the icy grip of panic take him.

“Get out,” he snarled to the girl and wrenched his pants off the floor, far from aroused anymore.

“W-What? But you still have an hour—“

“Did you not hear me?” Doflamingo grinned and the girl paled. For an incredible second, it almost seemed she wanted to keep protesting, before self-preservation kicked in and she nodded, scooping up the crumpled pile of her dress.

It wasn't until her footsteps had faded down the hall that he managed to turn himself around again. Rosi was still there, sitting on the upturned dresser and idly kicking his feet.

“What do you want?” Doflamingo asked quietly.

He was stared at. The expression was mostly blank, save for a faint shadow of reproach, of child-like disapproval with him that Doflamingo remembered so well his stomach curled. Fuck, he was too young to be going crazy.

“I looked for you,” he said, “I really did. But you were gone. I think you’re probably dead actually. You’re not here to blame me, are you?”

Rosi’s face softened. He hopped to his feet, touching the floorboards without a sound, and for a second, Doflamingo thought he was walking towards him and couldn’t stop himself from flinching.

But Rosi halted at the end of the bed, crouching near the post. He stared at Doflamingo, before looking down.

A dropped photograph lay half-wedged between linen and wood. It was yellowed and creased with too many folds. A young raven-haired girl hugging a woman in a wheelchair.

Doflamingo recognized the hair first. It had just been fanned out over the pillows only minutes ago after all and ah, that’s right, he’d chatted with her pimp, hadn’t he? And learned the whole tragic tale. A dying mother. A life of poverty. She sold herself for a handful of pills.

Diamante had laughed and laughed until he cried. (God, the sentiment in people, am I right Doffy?)

Doflamingo hadn't laughed. Fraying hair and brittle wrists had crowded his memory then. And coughing. Endless coughing.

Rosi stared at him, nearly bending backwards just to meet his gaze. The torn hem of a lilac dress was clutched between his fingers.

Doflamingo slid on his glasses.

In the end, he fucked no one and left over twice the entitled payment for the stunned woman, storming out of the pub and into the wet cloud-ridden dark. Diamante didn’t protest much, cowed beneath the seething blackness of Doflamingo’s glare.

The photograph was still in his hand, growing increasingly wet and ruined. His trembling grip crumpled it further. With a burst of crimson petulance, he thought about setting fire to the entire pub and tossing it into the flames.

Instead, it slipped through his fingers to lie in the rain.

Rosi was gone.

===

He kept coming back.

Every time Doflamingo tried to do anything even remotely interesting. Or further the many meticulous plans he’s laid out, Rosi would be there.

Sometimes, in the pristine satin robe of a Celestial Dragon. Sometimes, in the rags their father had reduced them to.

Always watching.

Over the next few years, Doflamingo grew used to seeing him in doorways and windows, seated at the table while Vergo made reports, or spattered with the guts of whomever Pica had slaughtered for laughing at his voice.

Ignoring him to do what he pleased resulted in nightmares. And a left eye that seared with such agony he once nearly gouged it out.

By that juncture, Doflamingo was sincerely contemplating if he'd gone insane. He’d done a vast amount of reading in his spare time, determined to educate himself, and concluded that at some point he'd suffered a psychotic break.

Doflamingo could not fathom why or when. He hardly thought he was broken.

But what else could this be? He wondered, standing in the rubble of another nameless town, Trebol giggling and Rosi huddled amongst the corpses, cradling Father’s head like a toy.

===

“You really should leave me alone.”

Doflamingo was twenty-three and Gold Roger had been dead for six years.

The Grand Line festered with impossible dreams. A torrent of skull sails poured in, each with their own silly little design and captain, here to pursue their silly little goals.

A new era was rumbling on the horizon. Unwritten history with the quill poised on the page. How Doflamingo fantasized about tearing a hole straight through it all. There were so many ideas rambling in his head these days, so many horrible and hilarious things to achieve.

The crew had grown like a rising swell. It sufficiently sized now to organize into individual teams and supervising officers. They were all misfits, orphans and freaks to some degree, ostracized and barely existing on the fringes of society. No one wanted them, which was a waste and a shame, because there was such talent to be found.

Lao G from death row and Jora from the streets. The latest recruit, Senor Pink, had been plucked out of the jaws of a loan shark and was blinking at him with puzzlement.

“Young Master?” He spoke, all caution, and Doflamingo’s gaze trailed down from the bookcase, where his still eight-year old brother swung his feet.

“It’s nothing,” he reassured, shoving aside his own surprise that he’d spoken out loud, “So a little lady’s smitten with you, is she?”

Senor Pink blushed as deep as his namesake. “W-Well it’s nothing very serious. Just a few dates really. But since we’re going to be docked here until the log pose updates, I just thought…uh…”

Doflamingo pretended to listen as he prattled on. He kept tabs on every interesting development and was already well-aware of Senor Pink’s pretty, pretty Russian. They were discussing marriage at this point, far beyond a “few dates,” and Doflamingo was not pleased at all that his subordinate thought to hide things from him. Trebol had already urged that the relationship needed ending by force, worried about a division in Pink’s loyalties. Having yet to see any evidence of this, Doflamingo hadn’t bothered. He liked Pink and didn't like suspecting family.

Even if things changed all the time.

“My dear Senor,” Doflamingo said, abruptly interrupting the other man, “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? You are lying and I’m frankly quite offended you presume me so easy to evade.”

Oho, he’d forgotten how white of a shade Senor Pink could turn. Even better than that petrified bird impression of Jora’s. A corner of Doflamingo, which was forever a ten year old boy burning in the flames, was alight with vicious glee. Fear was not nearly so practical as devotion, but it was fun to see all the same.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I was going to tell you sooner, but there was just never…She thinks I’m a banker, she doesn’t know that I’m…well, I-I guess I’m afraid she might—“

“What, Pink?” Doflamingo tilted his head. “Leave you? Send the Marines after me? Is she a bigger problem than I’d initially thought?”

The man’s eyes widened. Fat beads of sweat trickled from his perfectly coiffed hair and he nearly stumbled over himself to correct him.

“What? No, no, Young Master, she’s not a threat at all. I-I swear she knows nothing. She’ll never know anything. You don’t have to waste your time.”

“Never a waste of time where my family’s concerned,” Doflamingo chided, smiling coolly, “I've been abundantly clear. Mistakes can be excused. But betrayal…”

“I would never betray you,” Senor Pink said, fists squeezing and voice thick, “Never. Not for anyone. Please, Young Master, leave her be. I-I’ll…I’ll break things off with her today if you want me to. Give me any punishment you see fit for lying.”

His head was bowed and oh god, he was close to tears, was it really so serious a thing, eheh. Doflamingo fiddled with his options. Something from the frozen depths of him mused on killing her anyway and making Senor Pink dispose of the body. He’d never been partial to the notion of sharing…

Fingertips brushed his elbow. Doflamingo blinked and Rosi was sitting on the desk with blood coming out of his eyes.

===

(Senor Pink cringed like a dog awaiting a kick when Doflamingo suddenly cursed, nails screeching against polished wood.

“You’ve picked the wrong time,” the Young Master snarled and terror wrung Pink's stomach a little harder. As far as captains went, the Young Master was in his own league. A towering god among men. Power exuded from his every pore, but he was still surprisingly generous and reasonable, even if impossible to predict.

And certainly while those rare moments of anger were frightening beyond description, crew members were never subjected to it as long as they remained useful and did as they were told. He always made his expectations so very clear and Senor Pink would not dare resent him for that.

No, everything had simply been his own fault. He’d fucked up for real and now he’d never see or hear or touch her again.

“Get lost.”

Senor Pink stiffened.

“I said get lost, Rosi.”

Senor Pink raised his head).

===

“…Sir?”

Doflamingo’s jaw creaked as he glared into Rosi’s stained and dirty face, ignoring the shudder that echoed through his soul.

“Young Master?” a voice warbled through his senses, “Who are you…?”

Doflamingo turned back to Senor Pink, who flinched just at his gaze. He made a single alarmed glance at the empty space Doflamingo had been snapping at and did not attempt to move or speak again.

Eyes narrowed, Doflamingo considered the man impatiently. He had an inkling then of what would send Rosi away. It wasn’t the statement he’d prefer to make and he would probably never hear the end of it from Trebol, but he wanted Pink gone now.

“…If you watch her well,” he said slowly, “And never forget where your loyalties lie…then I could care less what you do.”

Senor Pink gaped, his previous unease crushed instantly beneath the weight of hope.

“S-Sir, do you mean…a-and it’s okay if we…”

Doflamingo sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples. Oh well, he was bored of this whole situation anyway.

“Don’t lie to me again. Now get out.”

Senor Pink bowed so low his forehead was nearly level with the desk. He didn’t dare to ask what had changed his mind.

“Thank you, Young Master,” he said, voice trembling, “For your forgiveness.”

Doflamingo snorted as the door clicked shut after him. Forgiveness, huh?

“What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

But he was already in the room alone.

[neverwatchedonepiece]

607-608: "A Fierce Battle Gets Heated! Luffy vs. Caesar!" and "A Mastermind Underground! Doflamingo Makes His Move!"

This one pulls no punches, does he?

Chalk up another pair of excellent episodes with a satisfying payload of reveals. 

The major one? Well, it’s obvious, right? Doflamingo has sidled out of the shadows and is now fully involved in the plot. The mysterious thing Law claimed would shake the New World is a substance/object called SAD which is being manufactured by Caesar on Punk Hazard. Not only that, Caesar Clown is like the Colonel Freaking Sanders of the OPverse, in that he is the only person who knows the eleven secret herbs and spices for making SAD. He also turned Foxfire’s kid into a dragon. 

(Or at least I think he did. That could have been Vegapunk but I don’t think Vegapunk is cruel enough to do that.)

Still have no idea what SAD is, but I will kick back and let the plot guide me slowly towards the answer because I cannot even begin to speculate.

SAD: Eleven Secret Herbs and Spices

Law is such a plot catalyst. 

He didn’t do much across 607 and 608. Well, not to my eyes, anyway.

All he did was walk down a dark corridor with purpose, stand in front of a big, important-looking door, trigger an alarm opening said door, and entering the room with a smirk, while declaring: “Yes. This will shake up the New World.”

Once I finished 607 and 608, I realised Law is probably in deep shit because a lot of powerful, angry characters are out for his blood. He is also at a major disadvantage until he reclaims his heart from Vergo (as he told Smoker via flashback). Because of Law, the plot is now speeding along at a cracking pace.

Caesar Doesn’t Realise He’s Just Issued Luffy a Challenge

The action picked up where it left off. Luffy wound up a blistering punch that hit Caesar so hard I performed a sharp intake of breath and cringed for him. 

Still, to give credit to Caesar, he totally tanked the direct hit. The madman got up again just in time to see Luffy speeding towards him, arms outstretched. That pesky rubber boy just insists on trying to grab him! There was a spot of hilarious, “GOT YOU!” “HA, NO YOU DIDN’T!” Then Caesar got fed up, set the place on fire and asked Luffy a really important question.

“Why are you attacking me?”

That was so damned funny to me. They’ve been knocking seven bells out of each other for several episodes now and Caesar had no idea why Luffy decided to noise him up.

Luffy’s answer was even funnier.

“I don’t know why but I’ve been told something fun would begin if I kidnap you!”

If there is such a thing as a Top Ten Luffiest Moments Compilation, that line has to be in mix surely? Why are you fighting me? No idea, but I was promised fun if I do. I have no words. xD

Caesar made a last ditch attempt to dissuade Luffy from an outright punch-up. Probably because he knows Luffy uses haki and that makes him vulnerable to suffering more gut-punches. “You formed an alliance with Law, right? He told you do kidnap me. You can’t trust him. I’m sure he’ll betray you. Don’t do it.”

Luffy’s response? “DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Negotiations broke down rather swiftly after that. Caesar broke out his karakuni (oxygen removal) technique. It has a limited range, which is good because it would be too overpowered otherwise. Luffy dodged and Caesar tanked another punch right in the word hole. But Caesar is such a mad bastard he actually closed the distance, got right up in Luffy’s face, deprived him of oxygen and slashed at him with a flashy, flaming hot blue sword technique. For good measure, he resorted to a few gastanets to hold Luffy at bay.

Caesar’s fighting style is suprisingly aggressive. xD

Still, when Luffy could huff some oxygen into his rubbery lungs, he was too fast for Caesar. Luffy’s response to Caesar’s aggressive style? “HEY YOU! STAY AWAY FROM ME!” At which point he booted Caesar in the face and he went flying.

“Damn it, that hurt!” Caesar seethed. (He hates haki users, ha!) But he still got back up.

Luffy realised he needed to catch Caesar quickly before he was choked to death. I still think if he hits Caesar hard enough, he’ll be able to do it no bother. It’s just a matter of getting Caesar on his own because Monet is under strict orders from Doflamingo to Not Let Anything Happen to his Cash Cow Scientist.

It was annoying because Luffy was *so close*. Caesar was willing to let him go because he wanted to show the brokers the power of Shinokuni and was impatient to get back to his experiment.  But Luffy stretched his head back, took a deep breath and readied his armament hardening. (Did Vergo use Armament Hardening on his knife stick weapon when he beat up Law?)

He yelled, “If I can’t breathe, I’ll kick your ass in one breath!” (Nice line, Luffy.)

Caesar yelled back, “You want to die, don’t you? Then I’ll give you the death you chose for yourself. Go to hell, Strawhat!”

Caesar almost crumbled. Almost. He dodged the headbutt, but the incoming Jet Gatling was too much. He was saved at the last second by Monet.

It turns out Monet is in possession of the Snow Snow Fruit, can control snow at will and - from what I’ve seen so far - she seems pretty adept at using it.

She was impressed that Luffy’s hits cracked the solid ice wall she had used to shield Caesar. My jaw dropped when Caesar’s head popped out from the ice shards and he was ready for another round.

Monet must have stepped in because she knows when the red mist descends, Caesar does dumb stuff (like persisting in squaring up to Strawhat Luffy like a belligerent drunk in a bar fight). As Caesar is not allowed to do dumb stuff leading to him being kidnapped, she appealed to his scientist ego.

“You must go, Master. This fight is meaningless.”

Caesar snapped out of his red mist rage and seemed to remember what was at stake. He laughed and swept away. “Goodbye, Strawhat! Be as wild as you want. I already have an idea of how to make you people test subjects. Look forward to it!” Nice to see Caesar can swallow his pride and stick to a plan, even if he needs a nudge.

Of course, Luffy went after him, but Monet wrapped her talons round his shoulders. Access denied. If anything happened to Caesar, Joker would kill her. 

“That’s the bird guy I saw in the war, isn’t it? Who is he?”

Monet almost revealed everything. Almost. I sense a pattern emerging here. xD “He wants to kidnap Master and wants SAD to be...” She smiled, said no more, but added, “Now I know what you guys are going for.” (Referring to Law and their alliance plot.)

It was round about that time that the call from Doflamingo came through. They were to take out Law and Strawhat - but be extra careful around Strawhat as he was able to use Conqueror’s Haki (Doflamingo must have spotted that at Marineford.)

At the moment, Luffy is battling Monet. I’m guessing he’ll defeat her pretty quickly, even though she didn’t seem too phased about his Conqueror’s Haki. Then he’ll be running like hell through the labyrinthine complex hunting for Caesar again. Business as usual!

Sanji is Not Vergo’s Biggest Fan

This was strangely interesting clash. Not on account of Vergo. It was mostly Sanji. For all the pasting he gets for being pervy (among other things), he shows moments of genuine concern and consideration for his fellow human beings, no matter what side they are on.

While Sanji and Vergo battled, the G5 Marines looked on in shock. Why was Black Leg/Foot/Limb/Appendage Sanji helping them? He was a pirate. Worse still, the gas was seeping through. Even though he’d knocked Vergo into a wall, Sanji told the Marines to run. When Vergo unfolded himself from the impact crater, he readied a final blow - but then the distress call from the SAD Manufacturing Room intervened and he ducked out to pursue Law.

Sanji about to run himself before he spotted two unconscious Marines. He couldn’t help but risk his life to rescue them. Then, when the Marines showered him with praise, he was... well, he was Sanji-ish about it. “I only take praise from girls, etc.” 

But when the Marines thanked him for helping them against the “Impostor Vergo” and when Tashigi kept up the ruse to as not to hurt her men, Sanji went along with it - even though I’m convinced he knows about the betrayal, as he told Vergo: “You’re the type of guy that our Captain hates most.”

So Sanji decided to spare the feelings of these Marines he didn’t know because he sensed, just like Tashigi did, that the truth would crush them.

That was a pretty nice thing to do, actually. Humanity points there for Sanji. And leadership points for Tashigi, into the bargain.

But... while Sanji was being a reluctant hero, Vergo was bouncing through the passage towards Building D. And someone very important was on the line!

The Feathered One Has Finally Arrived!

While the rest of the cast are currently swimming in the poison-gas-filled hell that is Punk Hazard, Doflamingo (or Doffy as his pals call him) has been living it up on the beautiful island of Dressrosa.** A calm blue sea. Colourful flowers. Architecture that looks Italian. Dressrosa is a nice place. A veritable paradise.

**(Or at least I think it’s an island. I have seen the Dressrosa arc in the dropdowns on CR and every other arc is a location, so I’m going with island for now.)

Vergo was in the middle of his report: “Trafalgar Law is in the SAD manufacturing room. No doubt he is betraying us.”

Doffy was not pleased with the news. “I have treated Law as my young brother and watched over him as he grew up. What a shame. He’s a the SAD manufacturing room, huh?”

At that point, a gun-handed lady staged a series of violent interruptions that did not phase Doflamingo in the slightest. Her swipes barely even broke his concentration. 

“Here’s what I’d do if I were Law. First, I’d destroy that room-- And kidnap Caesar? No. I’d just kill him. Because Caesar is the only person in the world who knows how to produce SAD. But if Law does such a thing, I’ll be in trouble, Vergo. If Caesar is killed, no one else can produce that gas. Then it will ruin my business. And what would happen next if I got into such trouble? Misfortunes never happen singly.” (An oddly fatalistic viewpoint you have there, Doffy.)

A big dude tried to convince Baby 5 (the angry lady) to chill. “You can’t do that to the Young Master,” he admonished. (Young master. Interesting way of referring to Doflamingo. Is there an older master?) 

An older lady asked Doflamingo what he would do with “that cute boy Law-chan.”

An older guy answered, “You know. Law is rebelling against us.”

Doflamingo ignored them all and gave Vergo his orders. “I need you to take care of Law. I wanna make him wish he was never born. So kill him in a horrific way.”

Vergo eventually offered to cut off Law’s ear and deliver it to Doflamingo.

“I look forward to seeing it!” Doflamingo replied (hilariously, as if Law’s ear were a new car or minor purchase).

He dealt with Baby 5 using his weird puppetmaster/control power and called Caesar and Monet. Once he warned them about Luffy’s Conqueror’s Haki, he announced Baby 5 and Buffalo would be sent to Punk Hazard. They all needed to come to Dressrosa at once.

Oooooooooooh, things are heating up! Now I’m wondering if Luffy and Law will even succeed in kidnapping Caesar. Doflamingo might show up with his big guns and snatch back his Cash Cow Scientist. Then again, that will mean Luffy might need to take an L. I don’t wan’t that to happen yet. It’s too soon after Marineford (well, it’s been over two years in the OPverse, but still.)

Not sure how this will unfold, but I am now majorly hyped for this plotline! :D

Twist Level: M. Night Shyamalan

Must admit, I have been thinking this Foxfire/Lost Son plot was kind of lame for a while now. It’s nowhere near as gripping as the Caesar/Law/Doflamingo conspiracy (to be fair, that’s a hard act to follow). Even the experiment kids have lost their plot shine in comparison.

Every time the action cut to the kids, or to Foxfire, I’d been thinking, “Okay this is nice but I need more Caesar, Luffy, Law or characters related to that plot strand, plz.”

But Oda suddenly merged them and threw in a major twist that has wrenched back my interest. The little dragon that has been harrying the Brownbeard Express (and hurting Brook’s feelings, HOW COULD YOU? xD) turned out to be Momonosuke: Foxfire’s own son!

Worse still, the Strawhats teamed up to beat the poor, little dragon and Foxfire almost kicked it to death because he bears a serious grudge against dragons. He kicked it to the point Brook actually said, “Dude... what did dragons do to you? You need to chill.” Foxfire almost sliced its scaly head off (his own son’s head!) Luckily, Nami shouted at them to get back on or they’d be left behind.

Once the Dragon Son was felled, the Brownbeard Express ran straight into Monster Chopper, who was desperately trying to wrangle the Candy-Addicted kids. Mocha is off on a mission to dispose of all the candy in the Biscuit Room. I foresee a lot of angry kids in the imminent future.

Another kid was the one who spilled the twist, right at the end of 608. She was about to head back to the Biscuit Room after examination and she mentioned a “secret room where no one is allowed to go.” Where the boy Momonosuke went and transformed into a dragon.

His own dad almost cut his freaking head off.

Can you believe that?

Such a great plot right now.

All around me are familiar faces...?

[ryik-the-writer]

Laughter in the Walls pt. 1/2

Title: Laughter in the Walls

Rating: T

Word Count: 6575

Notes/Summary: Belle and her son Gideon move into an old house in Storybrooke to begin a fresh start. However, they find their home already occupied by a “residential haunter”.

I was having so much fun with this but I didn’t have enough time to make it as long as I wanted it to be so it’s a bit quick-paced. Still, I tried to keep it organized and tried to give it a happy ending (spoiler). Hope you all enjoy!

Side note: there’s mentions of suicide in the second chapter so please be weary.

Prompt used: Haunted House

A03

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

“Well?” Belle inquired with a sunny smile as she pulled the Cadillac into her and her son’s new home.

Gideon French glanced up from his phone to survey the decrepit house his mother was “forcing” him to move into. If he were still in his goth phase he would have appraised her choice, but since he’d reverted back to society’s acceptable standards for well over six months, he found the house before him a dump.

“It’s great. I hope the rats plan to split the water bill.”

Belle gave her son an indulgent look and stepped out of the car. Her son had had a rough year and she knew he needed to let his steam off in choppy sarcastic remarks, which she allowed as long as he didn’t cross the line ].

“It’s got so much potential.” Belle encouraged as she intertwined her arm with her son’s. “It’s the oldest house on the east coast, nearly 150 years old. Oh look at these stained-glass windows!” She arched on her tiptoes to give her boy a kiss on the cheek. “And most importantly, it’s all ours.”

Gideon allowed his mother to pull him to the porch, watching his step just in case the ancient wood gave way.  He reached out to peel a line of curling pain from the wall.

“What color is this, digested Pepto-Bismol?”

“I think it’s called salmon. And don’t do that.” She ordered, pulling his hand back.

“Is the paint holding this house together?” Gideon quipped.

Belle sighed, the exhaustion of the six-hour drive and her son’s overall pessimism dampening her cheery mood.  

Gideon glanced at her defeated look and forced a supporting smile.

“It’s great mom, really. It’s just…different. I need a little time to get used to it.”

Belle smiled and rested her weary head against his arm. She really had a great son despite everything.

Belle had gotten pregnant at a rather early age by her then boyfriend Will Scarlet. The look of disappointment on her mother’s face when she told her parents made Belle blush with shame even 17 years later. Will, despite being impulsively immature, agreed to support her in whatever she decided to do. With her mother’s vague advice to “do the brave thing”, Belle decided to keep the baby. Will unfortunately couldn’t kick into his paternal instincts and he and Belle separated quietly. Other than a few sporadic child-support payments, he hadn’t kept in contact with Belle or his son.

Belle and Gideon moved in with Belle’s parents and found contentment in their small family and lived comfortably for many years. It wasn’t until the sudden death of the French family matriarch that the peaceful existence shattered. Mr. French sold his house and moved back to the family home in Australia to grieve, and rather than make her son start over in a whole new country, Belle took her half of the money and started looking for a new place to live.

It was during a grueling night of research that she came across an opened librarian’s position in a town called Storybrooke, Maine. A few more clicks and she discovered a house for sale in the same area. It was too good to be true, especially when she saw that the house was priced at just what was in her budget.

Gideon had been less enthusiastic about leaving the city but had no choice but to follow his mother into the unknown.

“A fresh paint of coat and curtains and it’ll be good as new.” Belle promised.

Gideon sighed. “If you say so mum.”

A loud pop broke the two from their musing. They turned to see a Ford truck pull in just behind the Cadillac, a petite woman with long black hair rushing out, nearly dropping the load of files she was carrying.

“Hi!” she greeted breathlessly, stopping at the first step. “Sorry I’m late!”

“No problem.” Belle assured. “You must be the real estate agent.”

The woman nodded and extended her hand. “Mary Margaret Nolan, it’s nice to meet you!”

Belle shook her hand and nodded towards her son. “This is my son Gideon.”

“Oh how nice.” Mary Margaret smiled. “You’re about the same age as my son.” She turned back towards the truck. “Neal!”

The passenger door of the truck opened and a blond teen stepped out, removing his headphones unpleasantly.

A series of looks was shot between the two before the boy stomped up the stairs beside Mrs. Nolan.

“This is my son, Neal.” Mary Margaret introduced through clenched teeth and strangely putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from going up the steps. “He’s…helping me today.”

“You mean I’m your prisoner for today.” Neal muttered.

“Neal.” Mary Margaret growled in a warning tone Belle recognized from any mother. She could also recognize that Neal was trying not to roll his eyes.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Neal.” Belle jumped in.

“Ma’am.” Neal greeted, a twinge of relief in inspiring green eyes.

“This is Gideon.” Belle introduced. She glanced at her son to signal him to introduce himself but found her son staring at Neal with just a hint of blush on his sharp cheeks.

Belle contained her amused smile, knowing instantly that her son was smitten. She glanced at the Nolans, finding Mary Margaret seemingly oblivious while Neal looked down at the porch with a slight smirk on his lips.

“So anyway.”  Mary Margaret intervened, pulling a manila folder out of the stack. “Here’s a copy of the deed, the skeleton key and the spares to the garage and the basement.”

Belle took hold of the mass of keys with one hand and the deed with the others. The second her fingertips grazed the manila envelope a violent burst of wind swept over the porch, causing the papers to flee into the yard.

Neal and Mary Margaret raced down the steps to catch the papers. Just as Gideon and Belle were about to help them, the wind shifted, causing the old house to creak and—the Frenchs would swear by it—laugh. It was a deep mocking sound, almost childlike but much more sinister.

“Well that’s not ominous at all.” Gideon said, standing a bit too closely to his mum than a 17-year-old boy usually would.

“Sorry about that.” Mary Margaret apologized as she trotted back up the stairs. “Early autumn is always when these bursts of winds pick up.”

“And the foreshadowing of doom?” Gideon deadpanned, staring at the realtor uneasily.

Mary Margaret frowned and seemed to pale a bit. “I…”

Belle stepped between her and her son. “Pay him no mind. Would you like to come in?”

“No!” Mary Margaret gasped, causing Belle and the boys to jump. “I mean…I…we can’t. We have…other houses to go to.”

Beside her Neal rolled his eyes.

“Come along Neal.” Mary Margaret said in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Neal looked like he wanted to say something but was dragged back to the truck.

Belle and Gideon stared after the car before turning back to the house. Their new home.

“It’s not too late to buy plane tickets to Australia.” Gideon told his mother. “Maybe I’ll like the Outback.”

Belle almost agreed with him, but her mother’s words rang through her mind.

Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

It had worked when she was pregnant, it would work with her new home.

“A little wind isn’t going to scare me away. Come on, let’s see what the inside looks like.”

“Oh come on!” Gideon whined as Belle dragged him through the front door.

Luckily the inside of the house wasn’t nearly as disastrous as the outside would have it perceived, though there were some obvious problems that Belle could address just from an initial observation.

The wood floors were in need of a polishing and the walls of washing. Luckily, the furniture that had come with the house had been covered and in great condition, abet a few decades outdated.

“How about we start with paint and cleaning supplies and go from there?”

Lighting one of the decorative candelabras (which Gideon found hilariously dramatic), they headed upstairs.

“It’s colder than a politician’s heart up here!” Gideon seethed, shivering as they reached the bedrooms.

“We’ll sleep downstairs tonight by the fire.” Belle amended. “This looks like the master bedroom.”

They stepped inside, holding the candle away from the plastics covering the furniture. It was spacious enough and the bed seemed to be a good size.

Belle sat the candle on top of the dresser and led her son to the bed. Together they jumped on top of it to test the mattress, an instant mistake they realized when they nearly sunk to their deaths and choked on the dust.

Belle arched off the bed when something stabbed her thigh.

“What the…”

Gideon scooted over, feeling the mattress. “I think it’s a loose spring.”

Belle pressed down until the tip of the “spring” was pressing into her palm.

“Gideon, press the mattress down why I try to pull it out.” Belle requested.

Gideon pushed down until the tip of the object burst further from mattress. Both he and his mother were surprised to find the tip of something much thicker than a spring pointing up at them.

“It…looks like the tip of a knife.” theorized Belle. She circled the opening to stretch it out.

“You could be touching a murder weapon!” Gideon hissed.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” said Belle as she stretched the hole just enough to pull the knife out of the mattress. Belle finally presented a heavy, wavy knife that glinted in the limited light.

“Whoa.” Gideon exclaimed. “Who would hide this here?”

Belle shook her head, turning the strange knife over in her hand.

“There’s something written on it.” Belle said, feeling the shape of the indented letters.

Gideon shot around, swearing he heard a sound come from across the room.

Belle lifted the dagger to the light, tracing the letters as she sounded them out.

“Rum…ple…st…stiltskin?”

“What?”

Belle and Gideon shot around to see a man standing in the doorway. Belle quickly jumped in front of her son and Gideon gripped her shoulders.

“Who…who are you? Why are you in my house?”

“You’re house? You poor confused dear.”

The man stepped into the room, the dim lights bouncing off the strange substance on his skin. Belle stared at his strange leather clothing and scaly skin, the feel of Gideon against her back the only thing keeping her calm.

“What are you?” Gideon asked.

The corner of the man’s smirking mouth twitched.

“My my what a rude question.” The man said with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I’m not a what.”

“You sure?” Gideon muttered.

“I don’t care what you are.” Belle growled. “Get out of my house before I call the police.”

The man giggled. “Quite the waste of a call dearie.” He took a step forward and Belle pushed Gideon onto the bed, turning quickly to grab the knife from the floor and point it at the intruder.

“Stay back!”

The man stopped, his amused smirk fading quickly.

“I’ll take that!” He exclaimed, snatching the blade from her hand. “You shouldn’t play with knives dearie! You’ll get cut!”

Belle stepped firmly between her and her son, leaving just enough of a gap for him to run if things got violent.

“I don’t know who you are or how long you’ve been squatting here,” Belle spoke, “but this is our home now. You need to leave. I’ll…help you get where you need to go—”

“Seriously mom? Now is not the time to be charitable!” Gideon hissed behind her.

“But that’s it.” Belle finished.

The man smirked bitterly, leaning against the ancient dresser, rubbing the knife between his hands.

“Trust me dearie, I’d like nothing more than to leave this place. Unfortunately for us both, that’s not possible.”

“And just why not?”

He glanced briefly at the dagger straightened his stance, scoffing when Belle jumped.

“I supposed introductions are in order.” He bowed with a flourish, confusing mother and son both.

“I’m Rumplestiltskin.” He sang, the name rolling off his tongue unnaturally. He lifted his head and smirked at the duo. “Consider me your residential haunter…until you leave, that is.”

“Our what?” Belle exclaimed.

“I’m bound to this house, have been for some time.” He stated with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s mine.”

“As in bound by a contract or something?” Gideon asked.

“Or something.” Rumplestiltskin scoffed.

Belle recognized a deep-seated bitterness in his voice and almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He was still an intruder in her home after all.

“I don’t believe this.” Belle scoffed.

“Oh believe it dearie.” Rumplestiltskin growled. “Believe it and be scared!”

“Threatening me won’t do you any good.” Belle fought.

“And denying what is happening before you won’t help you escape the inevitable, dearie!” Rumplestiltskin fought back.

“Inevitable what?” Belle shouted. “What is going on?”

Rumplestiltskin exuberantly rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time to go over every detail with you dearie!”

“Yeah you do.” Gideon said. “You just said you were a ghost.”

Rumplestiltskin glared at Gideon. “I’m real enough to teach you some manners boy!”

“No!” Belle shouted, rushing towards to tackle him. She underestimated the distance between them and tripped over the carpet. She braced for the impact of the hard floor but was shocked when she fell into a pair of cold arms, her face landing into an equally cold chest. She gasped at the feel, feeling like she was drowning in ice water. She looked up and found a surprising warmth in his wide, reptilian gold eyes, but the cold from his form was more overpowering and his hands were slowly trying to phase through her arms.

“Mom!” Gideon cried, carefully grabbed Belle at the elbows and pulling her from Rumplestiltskin’s grip.

Rumplestiltskin’s shocked looked faded quickly and he howled with laughter, smirking gleefully at her son’s glare.

“You are bold dearie, I’ll give you that. But be careful where you hurl yourself in this house. You might get hurt.”

“Mom, let’s just go before he really hurts us.” Gideon hissed in her ear.

A high-pitched maniacal sound left Rumplestiltskin’s throat. “I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to, boy. The dead can’t harm the living! What a stupid thought.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Will you just leave us alone?”

He pondered for a moment and then shrugged. “No.”

“No?”

“As I’ve said, it’s my house and I hate uninvited guests. I can’t harm you, but I won’t let you make yourselves comfortable here.”

“You think you can scare us off?” Belle scoffed.

“I know I can, and I’m going to enjoy doing it.”

With that said, her strutted past her and Belle shuttered at the coolness that followed. The moment he was past the doorway the lights went off and Belle in her son were drowned in candlelight once more.

“Son of a bitch!” Gideon gasped, falling back on his mother’s bed.

“Language.” Belle said instinctively, but her mind was focused more on the creature that had just shaken her to the core. This was unbelievable! Did Mrs. Nolan know about him? Did she really sell her a “haunted” house?

She had half a mind to march down to her office and rip her a new one, but that would hardly do her any good tonight. Tomorrow morning maybe. Tonight, she needed to unpack and figure out a game plan. There was no way that thing was going to kick her out of her new home!

Still, there was Gideon’s safety to consider.

“What do you think?” Belle asked uncertainly.

“I think it’s going to take a lot more than a coat of paint and a few curtains to fix this.”

Belle scoffed, patting her son on the back. “I mean do you want to stay somewhere else tonight? I think there’s a B&B across town.”

Gideon gave his mother a sly smirk. “You’re not afraid, are you mum?”

“I’m more annoyed than anything.” Belle admitted, flopping down on the bed. “I wanted us to have a fresh start Gideon, a new beginning. And of course, I choose a haunted house to do it in.”

A light giggle echoed through the room and Gideon scooted closer to his mum…to protect her of course.

“This is going to be a nightmare.”

Belle sat up, looking around the room that was supposed to serve as her bedroom. She had planned to move a bookshelf in here. To bring out her mother’s teal and coral quilt for the bed. She had so many plans for this place, plans to make it her and Gideon’s. Could she still do it? It was a hard decision to make when her sole priority was to keep her son safe, even if it was from a creature that couldn’t hurt him.

Gideon noticed his mother’s pensive expression and mused on what to do. As much as he’d like to hightail it to the next town and never look back, he just couldn’t let his mom go through with that. His Grandma used to tell her to do the brave thing, it was time to do the same.

“Maybe we…sleep on it?”

Belle turned to her son, her brave boy who inherited the best parts of her.

“We’ll sleep downstairs tonight.” She said, taking her boy’s hand and heading downstairs.

Just above them, Rumplestiltskin the residential haunter watched from the staircase as his new house guests prepared their selves for bed. They were a funny duo, and far braver than the other people who had run screaming into the night the second they found out their house was possessed.

He was a bit bitter that he hadn’t won on the first round, but was nowhere near ready to forfeit the challenge.

The French’s would leave, it would just take the right persuasion.

[reallylonglies]

Taylor Swift - Demon Hunter: Part Three

Just a normal dinner, she was relieved. She’d spent the summer stalking a particularly malevolent sea spirit. Sea spirits can only be evicted with the help of actual ocean spray, which had meant luring him to the coast which hadn’t been easy. Concealing the bruises she’d gained from fighting him on a clifftop wasn’t easy either. Fighting a violent spirit was hard, she had to avoid injuring the host while landing the right blows to the spirit. Rome has excellent healers though. 

This night would just be a straightforward dinner with friends. She’d known this couple for years, it would be fun, relaxing. 

But as soon as they arrived she sensed that something was wrong. Maybe it was exhaustion that slowed her down. It wasn’t until they were half way through dessert that she took the opportunity to casually take a look at him through the bowl of her wine glass. Pretending to be checking for faults, she caught a quick glance at his refracted image. She almost groaned aloud with frustration, but she caught Blake’s eye across the table. They exchanged much more in one look than they could have in a half-hour’s conversation. 

Of course, Taylor thought, I should have known. 

The invite had been very sudden and Blake had been insistent. 

They finished their dessert. As casually as possible, she suggested that she help her friend with the dishes.

“How bad is it?” Blake asked as soon as they were alone.

“Can we start with how you know what we’re dealing with here?” Taylor asked, stacking the dishwasher with precision. Just because you’re a demon hunter doesn’t mean you can’t be damn good at household chores. 

“I… I trained for a while…” Blake looked guilty. They methodically stacked the machine and, without conferring, began removing all sharp objects from the room, “I retired early. I fell in love and I couldn’t keep chasing all those guys, it didn’t feel right.” 

“I get it,” Taylor sighed, it really was exhausting. She’d tried to keep relationships going, but some guys just get funny about you consorting with beings from other dimensions. Even the most understanding eventually grew tired of her aggressive training routine. It was always “How do I know he’s possessed, what if you’re just using that as an excuse?” 

It made sense that Blake had been a rod, her hair was perfect for luring out a satyr or a fire demon. You can fill it full of perfume and then just waft until the demon shows itself. They just can’t resist the scent/texture combination.

Blake’s husband shouted something inane from the dining room, they remembered the task at hand. 

“Alright, what do we do? I can’t take him home like this,” Blake was urgent but not panicked. Taylor sensed that this wasn’t her first rodeo. 

“It looks like a basic level three demon, nothing too complicated. Do you know how long it’s been like this?” she took a series of silver charms from her pocket and wrapped them around her fingers. Blake removed her earrings and placed them on the counter. 

“About three months, I tried to ignore it at first but then I caught sight of him in a mirror and…”

“Say no more. You were right to bring him here.”

There was a big mirror in the dining room. A level three, the Jack-Of-All-Trades of the demon world. Common as headlice in the right places… Taylor was almost impressed that it had managed to take hold of such an influential host. 

He was a big man, but they were very strong women. 

He entered the kitchen and immediately the demon knew it had made a mistake. Taylor caught him in a headlock and forced him to the floor, trying to do as little damage as possible to Blake’s husband’s body in the process. She was thoughtful like that. 

“What’s happening? Why are you doing this to me? Is it because I said I didn’t like the potatoes? I just thought they were a little underdone!” he was a talker, and there are some things that even demons can’t change. 

Taylor pressed her be-charmed hand into his forehead. 

“Oh god, that burns what are you doing? Did Blake tell you what I said about your last single? It was just below par compared to your previous work I’m sorry…” 

“Blake, we need a reflector, can you grab that tea tray?” Blake pulled a silver tea tray from the worktop and held it above her husband’s flailing head. 

“This is like the worst trip to the dentist ever, what have I done to deserve this,” he caught sight of himself in the reflection, spotting the demon for the first time as it railed against Taylor’s silver covered hand, “Oh. That… What is that? Blake honey what’s living inside me?”

“Just a level three demon, we’re gonna pop it right out for you. You won’t feel a thing.” 

“He might feel something,” Taylor asked, trying to listen for the demon’s tune through the grunting and wailing. 

“Ok, you might feel something but it’ll just be a slight pinch,” Blake smiled, she was a terrible liar. 

“It’ll be more like pulling a tooth,” Taylor was using her full bodyweight to keep him restrained.

“Yeah, just like that,” Blake’s reassuring voice was not at all reassuring.

“Except where the tooth is a demon and your whole body is the bleeding gum,” Taylor finally caught the sound of the tune. Wrenching his face towards the mirror, she sang five notes and the demon split from the host with a deafening scream. Stuck in the tea tray, it growled at them impotently. 

She let the host slip down to the floor, he was whimpering. 

“Would anyone like a coffee?” Blake asked, casually popping her earrings back in, “Ryan stop whining, it wasn’t even that big of a demon.”

*********

I didn’t agree that Blake should be allowed to enter the circle of trust. It was a very tight circle. Me, Taylor and nobody else. Of course I felt threatened by Blake. With hair like that who wouldn’t. I wanted to live in it and cut it all off at the same time. Demons can be weird about hair. 

“She knows her stuff and it would be nice to have a friend who understood… you know… this?” 

“You make a compelling point, allow me to repost: I don’t like her.” 

I beg that you don’t judge me on my debating skills. I’m a demon, I’m good at possessing and haunting and showing up at halloween parties to upset teens. I’m also great at making passion fruit and white chocolate swiss rolls, but that’s not a demon thing that’s just because I’m awesome. 

“You are only saying that because you don’t want to share me,” she said. Perceptively. I hated it when she was perceptive. It was all “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to go out” or “that’s based on your personal bias, not fact” or “you only claim to like CSI: Miami to be controversial.” 

“Fine. But don’t blame me if this goes horribly wrong.” 

“It will not go horribly wrong, why are demons so pessimistic?” 

“Because we literally live in hell.” 

At least that was an argument she couldn’t contradict. 

*******

I will consent that letting her have a team mate did have it’s benefits. Blake did information gathering and operational support, Taylor did the hands on exorcising and I did the clean-up and paperwork. 

Have I mentioned how much paperwork there is? The audit trail on an exorcism is no small thing, and it’s a pretty thankless task. 

Mentally I referred to them as Taylor Swift and Blake Deadly because I thought it was hilarious. I didn’t share this with them because I couldn’t handle all the eye-rolling. I just occasionally laughed to myself about it. The demon who sits next to me didn’t find it funny, he just seethed at me in his gross brimstone cloud. 

Everything was going well until she met him. 

It wasn’t that I was jealous. She’ll claim that I was jealous. I wasn’t. Look how well I’d coped with sharing her with Blake. We were a team now! I was not jealous. 

My complaint was that she was spending a whole lot of time with him and he wasn’t even possessed. He wasn’t even an attractive prospect for a level four wind spirit, you know - the kind that spend autumn days making people’s coffee cool down too quickly, or causing people to get their hair caught in their lipstick. These are minor players, we wouldn’t even send a high ranking rod like Taylor in to combat. For a level four you send in a trainee, someone like Zendaya: she’s got potential but needs to hone her craft with a lot of practice. (Her work with Zac Efron was flawless though, a lot of conversations went on about that back at HQ.)

This guy wasn’t powerful enough to interest low level demons, I didn’t see the attraction. 

Blake tried to explain to me it was something something work life balance. I wasn’t really listening, I was looking at her hair. 

Anyway, I think my actions were perfectly justified. 

It wasn’t like I was trying to get her attention anyway. 

I just wanted to make a point. 

I think she overreacted. 

Definitely. 

*****

She thought she understood what betrayal felt like. 

When she came home that day and found her boyfriend possessed, she almost shrugged: it was inevitable that he’d become a target one day.

It didn’t seem like a big problem, just a small infestation. She locked the doors, sat him down. Tried to be gentle. 

The shock came when she pressed her charm against his forehead and heard a familiar song. The face she saw in the mirror, straining against the face of her lover was one she’d known for fifteen years. The demon that had changed her life forever. 

She didn’t need to sing the tune, he floated gently away from the host. 

“I was just making a point,” he said. 

“I never want to see you again,” she replied to his floating form in the mirror. 

“I was just reminding you that you have an important job to do,” he didn’t even have the common decency look guilty. 

“Get out,” she said, standing up, clenching her fingers around a throwing star in her pocket. 

“Oh come on, it was only a little bit of possession, if anything it will be good for him!” 

She threw the star at him and it passed through his spectral form and smashed a vase on the other side of the room. 

“Oh see, this is why we can’t have nice things,” he began. She didn’t have time for his stupid sarcastic tone. 

“I swear if you don’t get out right now, I will trap you in a song forever and you can spend eternity alone.” 

Her voice was stern, he looked honestly confused. It was as if he didn’t understand what he could possibly have done wrong. 

“Ugh, fine,” he said, dissolving. 

He didn’t know what he’d started.