#i fought the demons (the color blue) to do this ALRIGHT. anything for them <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[valahelart]

couples therapy is scared of them 🫵🩵

[kbuggg3]

~S u p e r n a t u r a l~ CasxReader: “Crazy In Love”

IMAGINE: After risking their lives for a mysterious piece of clay, Sam, Dean, and (y/n) get a call that something happened to Cas at the hospital (s7 e21).

“Well, c’mon Meg! Give us more details! Can you at least tell me if he’s ok?... What do you mean you don’t know?” Sam angrily spoke into the phone and (y/n) and Dean exchanged scared looks as they anxiously waited to hear about the news of their best friend. Approximately an hour before all of this stress and anxiety appeared the Winchester brothers and their closest companion (y/n) Singer were hiding out in an old, abandoned jail staring at the block of clay that lay on the dust covered table.

“So what I’m getting from this is… we risked our lives for a lump of clay?” Sam looked at the girl and shrugged with a reply, “There’s gotta be more to it than just that. I mean, the Leviathans were treating it like Dean treats his car!”

“Hey!” Dean snapped. “Don’t judge me.” Sam just rolled his eyes while (y/n) continued to think aloud. “Maybe there's something inside?” This earned an odd look from Dean and she huffed in frustration. “Wha- Well I don’t know! I’m running out of ideas. That’s all I’ve got goin’ on up here unless one of you can think of something better.” Sam and Dean shared a look then shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Dean grabbed a hammer and Sam grabbed 3 pairs of goggles, handing them out to each person. After making sure everyone had their protective eyewear on, Dean brought the hammer up into the air and struck hard on the block of clay. The moment the hammer hit the clay, causing pieces to fly everywhere, a crack of lightning, a quick rumbling of thunder was heard, and the rusty building shook for a second. The three looked at one another without speaking a word and Dean soon continued on again. Once again, he struck the clay with the hammer and thunder rumbled and the building shook. “Um is it just me or is-”

“Ya,” Sam cut in, interrupting (y/n). “That’s not normal.” Dean debated whether or not he should continue. Whatever is in this block of clay was important enough that Leviathans were willing to sacrifice their lives for it. This could be something to end the apocalypse and put a stop to the death of mankind forever. With that, Dean repeated the actions of striking the clay with the hammer despite the loud thunder, bright lightning, and violent shaking of the building.

Eventually everything went quiet and all the clay was completely gone. (y/n) opened her eyes and released her tight grip on Sam’s arm while Dean let out a long breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. The three stare down at what used to be a big pile of nothing and what now appeared to be a tablet. The tablet had golden writings or etching in it but neither one of them could make out what it was saying. It looked as if it were written in another language.

Before any of them could say one word, Dean received an urgent call from Meg that something had happened to Castiel back at the hospital and told them to meet her there ASAP. So that's what they did. Dean stuffed the tablet in a duffle bag and they got into the impala and drove off.

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After they arrive at the hospital and sneak past a few security guards, Sam, Dean, and (y/n) finally make it to the door of Castiel’s hospital room, where Meg stands chewing her finger nails and pacing back and forth. She heard multiple footsteps and looked at the group with a sigh of relief. “It took you long enough. He’s in here.” Meg opened the door and nodded her head, giving them the ‘ok’ to step inside. They walk in and see Cas staring out the window. “Hey, Cas?” The angel slowly turns around, faces them, and replies with a short “Hello, Dean.”

Castiel looks at Sam and smiles softly. “Sam,” he says with a short nod. “Hey, Castiel.” Cas’s eyes move from the tall man to the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. That’s (y/n) Singer. Of course he has met her before. She is the daughter of Bobby Singer and an old friend of the Winchester family. She was there when Cas first connected with Dean and the taller brother and ever since then he has had feelings for her that he, as an angelic and Godly being, couldn’t quite comprehend.

To a regular human being this was a natural thing, but Cas has never experienced anything like what he experiences when he’s around her. When she flashes her perfect pearly white smile at him, he can’t help but stop mid sentence and stare at her and her beautiful eyes. When she accidentally brushes his shoulder as they pass each other or touches his shoulder as she speaks softly to him or takes his hand for comfort, his face turns color and his stomach feels like he just swallowed a bunch of butterflies. And her laugh… oh her laugh… how it makes him wish he could listen to it forever. The way she scrunches up her nose as she projects this beautiful human noise from her perfect lips makes the corners of his mouth turn up slightly in a way he isn’t all too familiar with. Cas has no idea what was happening to him. If anything, he thought he was sick. But a regular human being would classify that as love. Cas was in love with (y/n).

Cas struggled to find the right words to say as he approached her and stuttered an awkward, “Hello, (y/n).” The girl fought the urge to throw herself onto him and wrap her arms around his neck, breathing in his comforting scent as she embraced him in a big hug. Instead she put a smile on her worried face and spoke to him in the soft, calming tone that he was very fond of. “Cas.” They stared at each other for a while until Dean awkwardly cleared his throat to break some of the tension. “Look at you, walking and talking. That’s great right?”

Cas forcefully peeled his eyes away from the goddess before him and looked at Dean with a goofy smile on his face. The angel approached the oldest Winchester with his pointer finger towards him. “Pull my finger.” Dean looked from the outstretched finger to Cas with a very confused look on his face. “I’m sorry. What?”

“My finger,” Cas explained. “Pull it.” Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment before gripping Castiel’s finger. Cas raised his eyebrows at him as he waited for Dean to pull his finger and sure enough he did. The moment Dean did as he was told, all the lights in the room bursted and everyone jumped at the sudden noise. All of the shattered glass fell to the ground and the group stared at Cas in disbelief as he giggled to himself.

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

“So let me get this straight. You said you remember who you are? What are you?”

“Yes of course,” Cas replied. He then gasped and turned around as if he were reminded of something he meant to say a while ago. “Outside today in the garden I followed a honeybee. I saw the welt of flowers. It was all right there! The whole plan! There’s nothing to add.” (y/n) quirked an eyebrow as she watched his gorgeous blue eyes twinkle with excitement like he just got finished riding a roller coaster or running a marathon.

“And he’s been like this for how long?”

“He’s been like that naked guy at the raver ever since he woke up. Totally useless.” Meg replied and the girl just nodded her head in response. “Well, Cas, how are you feeling? Do you feel any different from before?” Cas looked to (y/n) with a look of adoration as he spoke, “Would you just look at her. My caretaker.” The brothers looked to (y/n) with questioning looks as she gave the same look to the clueless angel in front of her. “All of that thorny pain. So beautiful.”

“You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy in love,” Cas said, sighing contently as he continued to stare at her sweetly. Of course (y/n) was flattered by this sudden affection from the angel she’s been crushing on since she first laid eyes on him, but he is obviously not in his normal Cas-like state. For all she knows this could all just be a misunderstanding and when (or if) they get him back to normal he wouldn’t even remember saying those things. After giving out long, awkward hugs and sharing random fun facts about cat penises, Cas revealed how exactly he became like this and that the tablet was The Word of God. “Ok well what does it say?” Cas crossed his arms and stuck out his lip. “No.”

“What the- Cas how old are you? Just read the friggin’ tablet!” Dean yelled frustrated.

“No.”

“Cas I swear on everything sacred if you don’t read this tablet right now so help me i will-”

“ Cas,” (y/n) spoke, cutting Dean off. Cas uncrossed his arms and straightened his posture as his facial features softened.

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you please try your hardest to read this tablet? It is very important that we find out what this says. You may even help save the world if you dooo,” (y/n) bribed, singing the last part. When Cas didn’t respond she pushed a little more. “Please, Cas? It would mean the world. Can you do it for me?” She ran a hand down his arm gently as she batted her eyelashes. Cas was sure his knees were going to give out on him any second now. He grabbed her hand off of his arm and clasped it tight with both of his hands, tucking the tablet under his arm. “I would do anything for you (y/n).

Cas held up the tablet and stared blankly at it for a while. Dean began to grow impatient. “Well?” Cas cleared his throat as he began an attempt in interpreting. “Uhhhh tree…” he looked around at everyone for a second. When no one responded and continued to stare at him, obviously expecting more information, he looked back to the tablet and continued. “Horse. Fiddler crab. I can’t read it. It wasn’t meant for angels.”

“Alright,” Meg cuts in. “This all sounds bad. What are you two idiots doing with the word of God? Let me see that thing.” She takes a step towards Castiel but is stopped when Dean tells her to back off. “C’mon Dean. It’s my life on the line too.” Cas froze and stared at the ground uncomfortably with wide eyes. “I said. Back. Off. Meg.”

“Dang it enough of this ‘demons are second class citizens’ crap!” Cas suddenly cut in saying “Don’t like conflict” and teleported out of the room, letting the tablet drop to the ground and break into 3 pieces. “What the h*ll was that?” Meg just scoffed and crossed her arms. “You heard him. He doesn’t like conflict.” She flashed a cocky smile causing Dean’s jaw to clench and his hands to ball into fists.

“You know what? We don’t have time for this crap. (y/n), you deal with the tablet, Sam, you do research on how to read this friggin’ thing, and I’ll go talk to Cas.”

“Actually, Dean.” (y/n) cut in making Dean stop at the doorway and look at her. “Maybe I should go with you to talk to Cas. You and him do have a special bond but I have a strong feeling that the little amount of patience you have isn’t going to be enough at the moment.” Sam and Meg chuckled slightly but Dean ignored them. “Ya I guess you’re right. Alright. You come with me. Sam, will you please pick up the… “Word of God”? And do not let that demon get the tablet.” Sam looked at Meg awkwardly and shrugged and she rolled her eyes in annoyance.

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After finding Cas in the main room sitting quietly at a table, Dean sat in front of him and tried to talk to him while they played a game of “SORRY!”, requested by the lost angel himself. “Alright, Cas, where can we find this ‘Metatron’ guy? Is he even still alive?”

“I-I’m sorry. I believe you have to go back to start.” (y/n) giggled, earning a glare from the oldest Winchester, making her cover it up with a cough. Dean looked at the board game in front of them on the table where Cas was pointing and begrudgingly moved one of his pieces back to start like instructed. He then proceeded in his attempt to reason with the angel. “Cas, this is important.” Cas once again pointed to the board, signalling that it was now Dean’s turn to pick up a card from the stack that was located in the middle of the board.

Dean angrily picked up a card, read it in his head, threw it down, and moved his piece to where the card told him to. “I think Metatron could stop a lot of bad. Do you understand?” (y/n) could tell he was growing angry and very impatient with Cas. She quietly stood against the wall, watching anxiously. “We live in a sorry universe.” Cas held up a card that said ‘SORRY’ on it and continued to explain.

“It is engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from your misfortune?” When he spoke he moved pieces around where they belonged and carried on as if he were simply talking about the weather versus the end of the world as we know it. There was no concern or emotion or feeling in his voice as he talked- whereas Dean and (y/n) held on to every word he said as they listened intently. “But these are the rules. I didn’t make them.”

“You made some of them. When you tried to become God. When you cut that hole in the wall.”

“Dean…” The two sat there looking at each other for a while before Cas continued. “It’s your move.” At this Dean slammed his hand on the board game and swiped it off the table forcefully. “Forget the damn game!” Cas looked down at his lap meekly and (y/n) took this as her que to intervene. “Dean! Woah, woah it’s ok. Calm down.” She put a hand on his arm, soothingly rubbing up and down making Cas stare. His mood quickly changed from shy to jealous as he watched (y/n) comfort Dean instead of him. Dean shook his head and stormed off leaving (y/n) and Cas alone. (y/n) took the seat Dean had previously been sitting in and looked to Cas with desperate eyes. Cas took notice of this and sat up straight with his hands folded on the table, giving her his undivided attention.

“Let's forget the game for one second. Is that ok with you?” Cas cutely looked to the side for a moment as he thought about the answer then nodded his head. (y/n) couldn’t help but smile at him. Although he wasn’t his true self right now she couldn’t help but notice how helpless and adorable he was being. He looked like a lost puppy. “Is there any way at all that you can help us?” Cas sadly shook his head and replied, “I’m sorry (y/n). I really am.” She could hear the sincerity in his voice. “It’s not your fault, Castiel.” He noticed her slumped shoulders and sad expression and thought of ways to try and cheer her up.

“M-Maybe when this whole thing is over with I can take you to a park.” (y/n) laughed making Cas’s cheeks heat up. “The park?”

“Ummm yes? Wait, no. I meant to say the strip club. Or was it the bar?”

“Cas, what are you talking about?” she giggled. “Well, quite some time ago Dean told me that if I liked a girl I should take her out somewhere. That and to wear protection, which is why I bring my angel blade everywhere I go,” Cas stated as a matter of factly and (y/n)’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hold back a laugh. “But it appears to me that I’ve forgotten where exactly I’m supposed to take you.”

“Wait a second. You like me?”

“Duh,” Cas chuckled and snorted as if she had told him a funny joke. “(y/n), I have been very fond of you since the day we met. Over the years you’ve made me feel things that I'm sure no angelic being has ever had the opportunity to experience. At first I was scared I was becoming ill with all the odd sensations in my stomach when you’d laugh or the muscle pains in my cheeks from smiling so much when you’d speak to me or even my face getting hot when you’d accidentally touch my shoulder. But after getting some professional advice from Dean I realized that I am truly in love with you.”

(y/n) had no idea what to say. She couldn’t believe that the angel she had fallen for after all these years had confessed to being in love with her. “Well in that case, maybe you’d like to take me to the ‘Bow Tie Bar’ right down the street here sometime.” Cas looked up, surprised that she accepted his invitation and nodded quickly. He was like a kid in a candy store. “Alright then. It’s a date.” A big smile made its way to Cas’s face along with a red tint to his cheeks. “D-Date. Right. Yes.” (y/n) laughed at his nervous stuttering and they sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. She then watched as his smile slowly faded and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Um, (y/n)?”

“Yes, Castiel?”

“Why exactly does the bar have a bow tie?”

[kitkat1003]

Everything is Blue

Chapter 1:  His pills, his hands, his jeans

MK just wants everyone in his life to be safe and happy, to never leave him.  He'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And, luckily for him, the voice in his head has the perfect plan to make that happen.

(Or, the author contemplates how slow the possession was for DBK in episode 10 and considers how MK would fall)

Ao3 link

This is a 13k monolith of a first chapter, but I'm very proud of how it turned out!  I threw it together in 4 days with the help of my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr, famous for the Chivalry is Dead sanders sides au.  Give it a read, it's on Ao3 and tumbr!  It even has a sequel!  Seriously, she’s a great writer and edited this thing in like 2-3 hrs after I threw it at her.  A godsend.

Anyway, happy reading!

When MK knocks the canisters off of DBK’s back, he thinks that’s the end of it.  He wasn’t exactly given the rundown on how the cannisters worked, nor does he know why whatever was in them caused DBK to go crazy, but at the very least he only had to fight the one guy instead of the entire family. It was weird to fight with Red Son and Princess Iron Fan (shouldn't she be Queen, at this point?  She's married to Demon Bull King, after all. Do they not have the paperwork?) but not unwelcome. He wishes they could be on the same side all of the time.

Because he was raised on stories of Monkey King’s adventures, which frequently discuss the Demon Bull Family, and he’s always thought they were interesting in those stories.  He thinks Princess Iron Fan is super cool, even though she’s scary and actively wants him dead.  Red Son is...well, he wasn’t what MK expected, but that isn’t exactly a bad thing.  If anything, MK thought he’d be older.  He doesn’t understand how demon aging works.

Tangents aside, he watches them disappear in a gust of wind and groans, flopping forward as he bemoans the fact that they left again, when he’d just beat them.  Well, he hadn’t actually fought all three of them, this time.  DBK had fought more people than he had.

He jumps as the cave begins to crumble from all the damage that it took from the fight, scrambling to find a way out, when—

A New Vessel?

A voice curls into his ear, a soft whisper.

Young.  Powerful.  Weak.  Freedom.

He looks down, and he sees a white light sink into his skin.  Cold seeps into his every pore, bone, and nerve, his muscles tensing as the temperature drops.  His teeth chatter, and when he lets out a startled breath he sees white air drift in front of his face.  The warmth of his powers—his Monkey King powers—is smothered, and soon all MK feels is the cold that keeps him in place, rooting him to the spot.  It’s a miracle he’s even standing.  

What is this?  

What’s happening?

His eyes dart to the cannisters.  The empty canisters.  There was something in there, earlier, right? Where did it go?  

Is this?  Wher e it w  e n    t?  

Wha t   i  s  . .   .  ?

It’s hard to think.  His thoughts are newly cracked ice upon a lake, pieces crashing slowly against each other and fracturing further, splintering into nothingness.

New Vessel.  Rest.

His eyes slide shut, out of his control, as his consciousness, like everything else, is smothered by the chill.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up on the shoulder of the Monkey Mech, as the last rays of sun are streaking across the steadily darkening sky, like a lighthouse beam against the dark sea.  He sits up, staring far into the horizon, as confusion pulls him out of the just woken up daze.  How did he get here?

“MK?” He jumps, startled, and turns to realize that Mei is right next to him, a concerned smile on her face.  He stares at her, trying to figure out why she’s here, how she got here.  Then again, he doesn’t even  know how he got here.  He feels dizzy just trying to remember. 

“You alright, kid?” Pigsy’s voice comes from his other side, and he forces himself not to jump, turning to look at his boss.  Tang and Sandy are there too, and Sandy waves while Tang smiles in greeting mid slurp, bowl of noodles in hand.

“What happened?” he’s missing time.  He defeated DBK, and then...then nothing.  There’s a feeling of coldness, at the thought, but the memories don’t come.

“I found you on the ground after the Bull Clones all sort of fell apart. I figured you passed out after trouncing DBK, so I picked you up and got you out of there.” Mei doesn’t seem concerned, but MK is, just a little.  He’s never passed out after using his powers; rather, using them often results in him getting an energy boost.  He thinks back on it, trying to remember any time this has happened before.  Macaque comes to mind but even then he wasn’t tired once his powers returned.

His ruminating on the ordeal is cut off by a bowl of noodles being shoved unceremoniously into his hands.  He blinks down at it, and then turns to Pigsy  

“Here, kid.  Eat. You look pale, and skinny as ever.  Can’t have my employee lookin’ half starved.” He smiles at Pigsy’s attempt to hide his soft side, picking up his chopsticks with a grin.

He eats, and the loud conversations of what they’d just accomplished arrests MK’s attention so that the questions about DBK, the cannisters, the voice that he swears he can hear in the back of his mind, fall away like sand in an hourglass, time never able to be reclaimed.

The sun finally vanishes and stars dot the sky like sequins on a gown.  MK curls in on himself, hunched over the bowl a little, missing the sun's rays and the finished soup’s warmth.

He shivers, but there’s no breeze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bonus of living in such a technologically advanced age is that city reconstruction is pretty fast. Hospitals are rebuilt first, people are brought in en masse. MK spends his time volunteering there, because noodle shops are low on the list of things to be rebuilt and he needs to be useful.

MK tries not to be too guilty about the wreckage, though most of it had occurred because he was late to stop DBK. He'd been kept at Flower Fruit Mountain for a few weeks because Monkey King was worried after the incident with Macaque. Wanted to be sure MK's training ethic wasn't too messed up, wanted to be certain Macaque hadn't left any lasting effects or impressions.

It was a punishment, MK knows, for being a two timing student and for making Monkey King have to deal with a demon enemy when he’s made it clear that he’s retired. Doesn't matter that they only ever trained in the morning and early afternoon, then spent the rest of the day hanging out. MK has watched Monkey King: The Animated Series fifty-three times now, most recently with Monkey King during the duration of his solitary confinement at Flower Fruit Mountain. They'd both piped up with commentary, MK about the production and animation, and Monkey King about the inaccuracies that MK filed away for his sketchbook.

But even so, it was a punishment for MK’s failings. Why else would Monkey King keep MK close, keep him away from his family and friends, keep MK away from the outside world?

It takes two and a half weeks after the battle with DBK for MK to go back to work delivering noodles. He'll sometimes buy extra and drop it off at a random hospital nearby, for the medical staff. They're overworked because of him, because he was away for so long.

He has to be better next time. He doesn't know when DBK will be back, doesn’t know how to sense him. Is he able to do that? Can he learn to sense when his enemies are nearby? That would solve a lot of problems, near rid him of worry. Maybe Monkey King knows?

That thought has him swinging by Flower Fruit Mountain on the weekend, with a promise to Pigsy to be home before midnight.  MK is an adult only by age, after all; Pigsy still treats him like the 16 year old he found half dead outside his shop.

When he steps onto the mountain’s sand, though, he feels unwelcome.

The mystic energy that had beckoned him in the first time he’d arrived has shut its doors, like a silent way of saying 

Leave. 

Not a single monkey comes to greet him, but he can see their eyes, hidden in the trees. They regard him with suspicion. He frowns at them in confusion.

He hears a hiss in the back of his head and winces at the ensuing headache, stepping forward in hopes of pushing past the pain. Every step he takes makes the pounding in his head louder and more painful, and MK closes his eyes and focuses, reaching for the well of power he knows he has, the power that makes the staff feel lighter than air. 

It’s like sticking his hand through a well of ice, and his wrist is paralyzed by the time his fingers brush that warmth, the light curling around his palm.  Gold sparkles in his vision, and the unwelcome air starts to recede, as if the island recognizes him again.  He heads in deeper, and lets out a breath as the headache ceases.

He doesn’t have to head in too deep, because Monkey King comes through the waterfall in a rare moment of MK’s mentor leaving the inner sanctum of the mountain.  The waterfall itself moves like a curtain out of Monkey King’s way and the sight has MK focusing on that rather than the expression on Monkey King’s face, until he looks up.  

Monkey King’s eyes are sharp, darting around, an expression MK only recognizes from the suspicion and distrust Monkey King gave Macaque.  MK fidgets beneath that gaze, though it isn’t directed at him, uncomfortable.  He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?  He wracks his brain for any new missteps, but finds very little.  Still, his anxiety skyrockets by the second. 

The look vanishes, though not completely, when Monkey King’s eyes catch on the sight of MK.

“Hey bud!  Impromptu visit?” Monkey King greets.

MK tries not to shy away from the air of suspicion that colors Monkey King’s tone.  Is MK really that untrustworthy? He did mess up badly by trusting Macaque, and Monkey King is right to distrust him.  He bites his lip and tries to ignore the swell of guilt that sets like a stone in his stomach at the memory.

“Yeah, just-uh-just wanted to train, y’know?  Don’t know when DBK is coming back.” He shrugs, and Monkey King nods, only half listening.

He still looks on edge. “Cool.  You uh...you bring anyone with you?” 

Now that’s concerning. MK scrambles to find a supposed intruder, hands gripping his staff tight in preparation for battle. “No?  Unless-Oh no, is there someone here?  Is it a demon guy?”  What if he led a bad guy here?  What if he messed up again?

He jumps as a monkey lands on his head, picking through MK’s hair in typical grooming fashion, and then Monkey King laughs, loud and almost relieved.  MK turns back around to face him.

“Nah, must be my nerves.  Maybe DBK left something on you, messed with my senses.” Monkey King waves a hand, nonchalant, and MK perks up in ease at the reminder.

“Oh!  That’s actually why I’m here!” He takes careful steps forward, trying not to jostle the monkey on his head.  “I was thinking-I didn’t know DBK was in the city and destroying stuff, and a lot of people got hurt.  But!  If I could sense him, like you can, I could stop him quicker!  Right?” He’s bouncing on his toes, nervous and excited all at once, and Monkey King smiles down at him fondly.  

“Sure, why not?  If you’re up for some meditation, that is,” Monkey King turns, waving at MK to follow. 

The monkey on MK’s head hops away, and MK sprints after his mentor with a wide grin.  “Totally!  I’m, like, the best at meditation.  I’m like a meditation wizard!”

Monkey King laughs all the way to the training grounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Training actually is easier than he expects.  MK blusters a lot, but he isn’t dumb or unaware of his limits.  Sitting still isn’t his strong suit, so sitting still while not being able to talk, tap, fidget, or do anything else other than think is basically torture.

But, when he gets into the meditative position with Monkey King, something clicks.  A cool blanket settles on his shoulders, eases out the desire to move.  It’s so easy to be still, and quiet.

Frozen.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monkey King tells him, and MK grins a little, face warmed by the praise.  “Now, when you’re like this, you have to let every other sound and feeling fade out.  Nothing else matters but the energies around you.  Mine’s pretty easy to see cause, yknow,” 

MK can practically see Monkey King scratching his chin and grinning with barely hidden pride.  “I’m a pretty powerful guy.  DBK would be similar, he’s got a pretty loud aura too.  Now, just try it, kay?”

MK nods, and takes a deep breath.  The sounds around him-bugs, monkeys jumping around and talking to one another, the wind, the ever present sound of something in his head—those all start to fade away.

Wait, what was that last one?

He lets them all go, and then forgets the feeling of the cold, the grass, the fabric touching his skin.  Nothing exists except his own mind, and then.

He gets to see the bright light that is Monkey King.  Golden and red and royal in its feel, it’s near blinding.  He has to blink a few times to get used to its light.

“Woah,” he murmurs, and Monkey King opens one eye, before blinking both in surprise.

“Woah, already?  You sure you haven’t done this before?” Monkey King crosses his arms over his chest, almost offended, and MK is reminded of how betrayed Monkey King looked when MK had shown off the skills he’d learned from Macaque.

“Nope!  Maybe defeating DBK gave me a confidence boost?”  He shrugs, and then stands, looking around.  Monkey King’s expression sits in the back of his mind, and MK bites his lip.  “Did I, uh, did I do something wrong?  I didn’t…,” he trials off, worried.

“Maybe,” Monkey King mumbles in response to his first reply, mostly to himself.  “Oh-no, no, you’re fine, bud.  I think I’m just a little paranoid,” he laughs it off.  MK is too busy glancing back towards town to process Monkey King’s pensive expression.

“I can see Mei!  She’s...very green.  Did she always have a dragon?” It’s curled around her, like a protective barrier, snarling and poised to strike.

Monkey King chuckles. “You’ve got yourself some powerful friends, kid.  Not surprising.  Like knows like, even when they don’t know what like is.” He puts a hand on MK’s shoulder, and then starts.  “You’re freezing.  It’s not that cold, is it?”

MK blinks a few times, and everything comes back, the colors and sounds and feelings of the world returning to normal.  Monkey King keeps looking at him, as if MK is a puzzle he’s yet to solve.

“I don’t know, maybe?  I’ve been feeling a bit chilly, lately.  Maybe I’m coming down with something?” He’s been a bit stressed out, between Macaque and DBK and the reconstruction, and he’s heard stress can cause illnesses.

Monkey King sighs, after a moment, and scratches his head.

“I think I’m becoming an adult,” he says, like it’s a crime, and he shrugs again.  “You’re probably fine.  Just, take it easy the next few days, alright?  Practice meditating at home, or when you’re on the job.  When you’re as good as me, you can turn it on whenever you need to,” Monkey King puffs up with pride, and his tail swings back and forth leisurely.  MK watches his tail more than he listens to what Monkey King is saying.

“Okay.  Anything else for today?” It’s only been an hour or two, they have plenty of time.  

Monkey King deliberates.  Then, he grins, stepping back to position for MK’s inevitable first attack. “Tell you what.  We’ll spar for a bit, and then you can bring up that new show you kept ranting about a few weeks ago.  Kay?” 

MK’s eyes sparkle.

“Heck yeah!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK’s muscles aren’t sore when he gets home.  He actually lasted a couple minutes sparring this time around, and Monkey King had rewarded him with peach chips and an arm around MK’s shoulder as he eagerly pulled up the show he had dove into during his free time on the TV.

Pigsy sent him upstairs with a bowl of noodles and a stern reminder to sleep early so he wouldn’t be late for work. He finishes the noodles in record time and, once he has showered and put on his warmest pajamas, pulls out all of the blankets he can find.  He just wants to be warm, just a little, even though it doesn’t make sense that he’s feeling this cold.  He’s not tired, he doesn’t feel achy, his sinuses are clogged—none of the other symptoms of being sick are popping up, so why is he so cold?!

He’s practically buried in blankets by the time he feels comfortable enough to rest.  For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t dream.

Things go back to normal, somewhat.  There’s a niggling something in the back of his head, and there’s guilt and the ever present chill that has MK wearing long sleeved shirts, but otherwise MK falls back into his typical routine, which is nice.  He missed his friends, between Macaque and DBK and training.  It’s good to see them again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time he starts hearing the voice in his head, he’s getting yelled at by Pigsy.

It doesn’t happen as often, anymore.  MK is scatterbrained, but he genuinely tries to do his best at work.  Sometimes, he gets mixed up, because he’s only one kid and he’s never been good at focusing, no matter how hard he tries.  It’s hard for his stressed out and ADHD ridden brain to remember whose order is whose, especially when it’s the dinner rush and he’s running behind.

Today was a particularly bad day.  He’d accidentally given a customer an order with peanut oil in it, when they had an order specifically without peanuts due to their severe allergy.  Pigsy had gotten a very angry phone call, and he passed that rage at MK, rightfully so. 

MK can only apologize so much, so eventually he quiets and lets Pigsy let off steam.  Luckily the customer hadn’t tried to sue, but MK knows the review Pigsy likely got was scathing.  He deserves a bit of a tongue lashing for that, he thinks.

It was an honest mistake.  Cruel, to yell at one so young.  Why is he so mean?

The voice in the back of his head, new and different, nearly makes MK jump.  Pigsy notices the change in MK’s expression and mistakes it for fear, and that gets him to quiet down.  He dismisses MK with a sigh and a wave of his hand, and MK heads upstairs, feeling guilty and confused.

 That voice….it didn’t sound like him, did it?  When he tries to recall the sound, it mirrors his internal voice, but in the moment it seemed different.

 It’s probably nothing.  After all, if something was wrong with him, wouldn’t someone else have noticed by now? Wouldn’t he have noticed by now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The voice keeps popping up at random intervals, random moments.  When Mei gets annoyed at his ramblings.  When Tang pushes him away when he’s begging for a story, because Tang is busy eating.  When Pigsy yells at him for being late for work, for messing up.  When Sandy awkwardly pushes him to leave because MK can’t take a hint, some days.  When Monkey King looks at him with something akin to disappointment, exasperation.

They’re tired of you.  They want you gone.  They’re plotting against you.  They’re going to betray you!

And, see, that would bother MK if he didn’t already know that.  He knows people don’t like him, find him annoying.  He knows he pushes too much, messes up a lot, misses social cues.  He knows that he’s not a good enough successor.  And that just makes him want to do better.  

As for the whole betrayal thing, plotting against him, it makes sense.  He isn’t offended or anything if they are, in fact he’d be more surprised if they weren’t, you know?  He’s the Monkey King’s successor.  He has all of the powers, has all of the strength and invincibility, with a caveat or two, but he’s also still just a teenager.  If they aren’t worried that he could go rogue, mess up and decide to be selfish, then that’s stupidity on their part.  Trusting him with anything is never a good idea, so knowing that, should he mess up, his family will be able to enact swift justice is a comfort rather than a worry.

And yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, knowing just how annoying and useless he can be.  He flinches more often at their glares, gets quieter.  He doesn’t want to make them mad at him, he doesn’t want to lose them because he isn’t good enough.  He just needs to focus, be better, help out more often.  If he does that, hopefully they won’t leave.

The voice, after a few months or so, had backed off for a week.  He’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and smiling was easier.  Pigsy had seemingly relaxed at his good mood, and Mei seemed cheerier when they’d gone out to the arcades.  He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying them.  

Are you so sure they’ll stay?

A single phrase that pulls the rug out beneath MK’s feet.  He knows he isn’t good enough, but everyone knows that he at least tries, right?  That should endear them to him enough for him to prove he’s worth their time, right?  He can be good enough, he can do better, he just needs time!

Not fast enough.  They’ll get tired of you, and then they’ll leave.

The cold feeling in his chest feels so much heavier, as he panics in his room.  He’s supposed to be asleep, but the blankets don’t do much anymore.  He’s losing feeling in his fingers.  He keeps fumbling with things, even the staff, and everyone is getting annoyed at him.  And he’s so tired, all the time, and yet it’s so hard to sleep.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but he knows that whatever it is, it’s going to ruin the equilibrium he has between being a failure and being good enough to keep around.

What happens when he loses it all?

You can be better.

Can he?

Wouldn’t everyone love you if they were safe?

Well, he can imagine not having to worry about DBK would make them far less stressed out.  If he can do that, then maybe they won’t get so easily annoyed at him.  He knows stress can make people snappy, and there’s a lot to be stressed about, like the economy and death by demons.

You can make them safe.

How?  

Listen to me. 

And MK knows it’s weird to make a pact with your own mind, but he thinks he’s pretty good at following directions, so he nods, and doesn’t sleep at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan isn’t an easy one, and MK doesn’t know if he really wants to follow it.  The words turn over and over in his head. He doesn’t know if they’re right or not.

Maybe it would be better, if he wasn’t so nice.  He beats the bad guys, sure, but he isn’t that violent with them.  They try to kill him, but it’s never personal.  He’s the successor to Monkey King, it just makes sense that they’d go after him.  He’s not upset, really!

Even though the calabash has him looking over his shoulder.  They have earthquakes a lot, they live near a ring of active volcanoes, and each one puts him on edge, expecting a lie to turn his whole world apart. And the spider lady tried to eat his friends, tried to kill him.  And Macaque nearly hurt Monkey King because MK let him get close.  And DBK and Princess Iron Fan won’t stop, not until they get revenge or something.

Red Son is...he’s MK’s age.  And MK has noticed just how much DBK and Princess Iron Fan belittle Red Son, and he’s their son.  It’s too familiar for MK’s liking, and it makes the desire to bring Red Son to justice lessen.  Maybe, if he got Red Son’s parents out of the way…

You could have anything you wanted.

All MK wants is for his friends and family to be happy.

This is how you’ll do it.

MK doesn’t give in.  Not yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK considers it when he goes over to see Sandy, one afternoon.  They’re just doing some leisurely painting practice, nothing like painting the whole boat.  After the whole clones thing, Sandy had learned that he should probably figure out which color he wants to stick with in the long run before asking for help in such a task.  So, he asks MK to come over and brainstorm.  You know, sketch out some ideas, test paint samples on different areas of the boat, see how it looks in light and dark.

MK also helps with the many litter boxes around the ship, as well as top up the water and food bowls all around.  He gets appreciative nuzzles from the myriad cats around the barge, so it isn’t so bad.  Then, he and Sandy will have tea, and Sandy will listen to MK ramble on about anything and everything until either Monkey King or Pigsy or Mei calls him to go do something (he gave Monkey King his number.  Occasionally he will get an incomprehensible text.  He’s pretty sure Monkey King has a Nokia phone).

Today, when they’re having tea, MK considers.

“Hey, Sandy?” He starts, more hesitant than when he’s ever asked the man a question before. 

Sandy notices, and MK sees him soften his pose even more, looking warm and welcoming. “Yeah, MK?”

“Do you think I’m too soft on villains?”

Because he beats them, but he always lets them leave, lets them escape.  They get to heal, recoup, and come back stronger every time, and people get hurt.  MK doesn’t want to be the type to attack first, to never ask questions, but at this point there aren’t too many questions to ask.

“You’ve got a good heart, MK.  You don’t have it in ya to go at ‘em too hard,” MK clenches his fist, his other hand gentle against the teacup lest he break it.  He did that a few times when he first got his powers, unused to the extra strength.

“That kinda doesn’t answer my question,” MK tries not to say it through gritted teeth.  He can feel his tea getting frigid, and bites back the burst of white air that would make Sandy ask questions.

He wouldn’t know how to answer questions about that, which is why he can’t deal with them.  That’s the reason.

He’s saying you’re weak.

MK hides a grimace, and lets his heart ache silently.  He sips the tea.  It’s ice cold.

“What brought this on?” Sandy asks, instead of answering the question, which grates on MK’s nerves more than it should.

“I let DBK get too powerful,” he says.  “He destroyed the city again, and people got hurt.  If I’d just got rid of him before, those people would be okay.”

Sandy sighs, taking a sip of his tea.  A cat hops into MK’s lap, curling up, but after a few frigid moments hops away.  Apparently MK is too cold for its liking.  He tries not to get offended by that, but the hot well of shame and longing persists. At least the feeling is warm.

“MK, you’re still learning.  Mistakes are bound to happen.  Those who got hurt will get better, and the city is rebuilt better than ever!  You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders.  And,” Sandy looks away, and suddenly he looks a lot older than MK thinks he is.  “Honestly, being too harsh to make an enemy stop can feel good in the moment, but it does more harm than good, especially to the person who does the fighting.”

And MK leaves it at that, but thinks he doesn’t mind if it harms him, if it keeps everyone else safe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Another story!” MK begs, spinning on the barstool.  Pigsy always tells him not to, something about wearing down the seat joint, but at the same time Pigsy never really stops MK when he does it either, because MK only does it when he’s very excited and hyper.

Tang finishes his bowl of noodles with a chuckle, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion that MK is oh so familiar with.  MK taps the front of his sketchbook with his pencil impatiently.

“Alright, alright.  Tell you what, I’ll tell you the story of the Baigujing, or White Bone Spirit,” Tang’s voice falls into storyteller mode, and MK is immediately entranced.  Pigsy, from the kitchen, slams down a pan and groans.

“Not that one, Tang.  I hate that one, you know that,” MK turns to his boss and is surprised to see an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.  What in this story would Pigsy have to be embarrassed about?

“Hey, MK wants to know all the Monkey King stories.  I’m not going to rob him of knowledge,” Tang argues back.  He leans close to MK and whispers “Pigsy couldn’t sleep for a week after I told him this one.”

“That is not true!” Pigsy barks, indignant, and MK laughs.

Tang chuckles to himself, and Pigsy turns back to his work with a grumble.  Right now is a lull in business, right after the lunch rush and before early dinners get called in, so MK is taking his break and Pigsy isn’t too upset by it.  It’s just enough time for a story.

“Okay.  The Baigujing was a shapeshifting demon, who saw Monkey King and his group of traveling companions as they passed by.  Her eyes caught on the human monk, Tang Sanzang,” MK perks up.

“Hey, that’s like your name!” he points out, and both Tang and Pigsy look startled.  Tang coughs, awkward.

“Yes-well-uh, it’s a family name,” he amends quickly.  MK tilts his head to the side.  “Anyway, she decided she wanted to taste the monk’s flesh.  So, she disguised herself as a little girl, coming up to the group and offering them poisoned fruits.  Because she was so powerful, only Monkey King could sense her treachery, and he hit her with his staff, seemingly killing her.”

MK gasps, doesn’t understand the fury that builds behind his eyes.

Tang glances at him, for a moment, and then jumps.

“MK?  You okay?” He asks, and MK blinks.

“What-yeah!  What happened next?” Tang looks him over, gaze catching on MK’s eyes, before he sighs and continues.

“The Monkey King’s companions were shocked and appalled.  They thought he had killed an innocent girl!  He tried to explain, but they didn’t believe him.  The Monk buried the girl, who turned back into the spirit.  She tried again, once as the supposed mother of the little girl, and then the grandfather.  Monkey King managed to show her as a skeleton spirit during their last encounter, clearing his name, but then his companion, Bajie, told Sanzang that Monkey King made it up.  Thus, Monkey King was abandoned, at least until the Monk was captured by a demon Wujing and Baijie couldn’t defeat, and Bajie had to apologize to bring him back,” Tang finishes, and MK’s face settles into a pout.

“Bajie’s a jerk!” He crosses his arms.

“He apologized,” Pigsy mumbles, from his place in the kitchen, where he slices scallions violently.  “More than once.  Not that it matters.” 

“Monkey King didn’t exactly endear himself to his peers,” Tang amends.  “Perhaps if he had been less full of himself at the time, they all could have gotten along better.  But, all four grew to be better people by the end of their journey.”

MK finishes a sketch of the scenes Tang had described with a flourish, and he tilts his head to one side.  “Kind of rude to just attack the lady, though, couldn’t he have tried to talk it out?” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend the demon, but she doesn’t seem too bad.  

Tang makes a face.

“She wanted to eat a person, MK,” he says, and MK makes a face that mirror’s Tang’s expression.

“Right.  Eugh, gross.  Anyway, thanks Mr. Tang!” he hops off the barstool and puts back on his collared shirt, making sure his headband doesn’t slip down.  “Any orders, Pigsy?”

Pigsy jerks his thumb to the few on the counter.  MK picks them up, and continues on to work, the story sitting in the back of his mind.  He stumbles a bit while walking.  He doesn’t feel the key in his hand, his fingers numbed over time.  He should be concerned, but everything else seems fine.

He kind of wishes he could have met the Baigujing.  She doesn’t seem too bad, besides the people eating.  Maybe they could have worked it out.

Who does Sun Wukong think he is, deciding to serve justice anyway he sees fit?

MK frowns and buttons up his shirt.  His chest feels like ice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s so, so tired.

MK looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and his skin looks paler, his lips a little blue.  He has bags under his eyes that vanish by the time he leaves the bathroom, a bottle of concealer and a tube of lipstick on the bathroom sink that he doesn’t remember buying.

His memory’s been growing spottier, too, missing minutes, hours.  Mei talks to him about a high score he beat at the arcade and he nods along, no clue what she’s talking about but not wanting to worry her.  He hasn’t gone to see Sandy in what feels like years, but gets a text from him thanking MK for taking care of the cats one afternoon.  There are sketches in his sketchbook he doesn’t remember drawing, from stories Tang told him that he can’t remember hearing.

He’s lost feeling in his hands and feet.  He’s dropped enough bowls of soup for Pigsy to go from mad to worried, and he shoves MK off to Flower Fruit Mountain because it’s warmer there, and MK always looks cold.  

He stumbles when he hits sand, nearly bowls over with how much the island rejects him, how much it wants him not to be there.  This is supposed to be a safe place, but the sand feels like needles and the wind slices at his face.  Monkey King comes rushing out like a bat out of hell, teeth bared, but he sees MK, kneeling on the beach, and runs over.

“You okay, bud?  You look…,” he doesn’t say awful, but MK knows he’s thinking it.  MK looks awful, feels awful, is awful.  And the solution to that is right there, waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to take it because he’s a coward.  The voice in his head gave him an ironclad idea, a perfect plan, and he’s been ignoring it because he’s scared.

Weak little vessel.

The hiss in his ear makes him wince, and he trembles as Monkey King helps him up.

“Tired,” he manages, leaning against Monkey King because he hardly has the strength to stand.  

“I can see that.” The try at levity has MK chuckling, but Monkey King is soft and warm and all MK wants to do is suck that warmth into himself, so he can stop being cold for one second.  “Why don’t we head to my place and watch something.  There’s always my show, right?”

MK nods, blinking slowly, and Monkey King takes a step forward.  Suddenly, they’re at Monkey King’s house.  When did they get there?  Why are they here again?

He’s set on the couch.

“There’s something off about your aura, kid.  Touch anything mystic or weird back at home?” Monkey King runs his fingers through MK’s hair, and MK leans into the touch.  Warm.  Safe.  

He shakes his head, a full minute after the question is asked.  Monkey King hums in thought.

“How do you even see auras?” MK mumbles, words slurring a bit as he talks.  “Teach me?”

Monkey King’s hand stills, and MK whines a little, prompting his mentor to continue the motions.

“I already have, bud,” Monkey King whispers, more to himself than to MK.  MK blinks in confusion.  He doesn’t remember that.

Rest, Vessel.

The voice whispers so sweetly in his ear.  It’s nice, sometimes.  Mean other times.  MK wonders if that’s his fault.  Is he so bad that even his own head is mad at him?  How can he be better?  He’s trying so hard.

The TV is turned on.  MK doesn’t register the sound, but the light makes him turn his head away.  Monkey King turns down the brightness with his remote.  Another monkey rests on top of MK for a moment, before jumping off.  It shivers at the temperature of MK’s jacket, his skin, and moves over to Monkey King’s shoulder.

MK rests his head on Monkey King’s lap, and closes his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up in a dream.  He stands on ice.  Each step he takes is careful, lest he slip, and even still he stumbles and fumbles.  He can see something in the distance.

“Hello?” he calls out, but the person doesn’t answer.  The closer he gets, the more he can make them out.  “Mei?”

It is her, but then her head drops, straight off of her neck.

“NO!” MK screams, running to her, and he stumbles and falls.  His knees hit ice and they burn with the chill that sinks through his pants.  He slides to her body, cradling it and her head as if he could put her back together with hope.

He turns, looking for a reason for this, and when he looks up, all of the adults in his life are standing around him, their faces covered in shadow.  Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Monkey King—they’re all looking down on him.

“Look what you let happen,” Pigsy growls out.

“She’s dead,” Tang continues.

“You didn’t save her,” Sandy drones on.

“You let her die,” Monkey King spits.

“No…” MK breathes, and the tears build in his eyes and down his cheeks, freezing on his face.  It burns.

You have a choice, vessel.

The figures of his friends vanish into mist, and MK curls his arms around himself.  He misses the contact.  He hates to be alone.

A woman wreathed in white kneels down in front of him.  It hurts to look at her, and MK averts his gaze until she tilts up his chin so he can look nowhere else.  Her face is ice cold, yet inviting.  He can’t look away from her eyes.

Don’t you want them to stay?  Don’t you want them to be safe?

MK nods, quickly.  Of course that’s what he wants.  More than anything, he wants that love, that adoration.  He wants his family to be safe, to never leave.

You know what to do.

It feels like ice is creeping up his skin, encasing him in frigidity.  She holds out his hand, and he can do nothing else but take it.  The cold reaches its peak, and suddenly it’s warm.  It burns, and yet the warmth is inviting, a relief after months of being so, so cold and confused and tired.  He is past the point of cold, of freezing, of sub zero.  He is warm.  He is ready.  

He is hers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up well rested, and the cold that had settled into him still feels like the burn that is a welcome respite from before.  Monkey King is still asleep, and MK leaves him there, leaving the house and walking slowly out of the inner mountain.  

He leaves footprints of ice where he steps.  The monkeys watch, from the trees, trembling as their eyes gaze upon something inhuman, sitting in MK’s skin.  MK has never felt better.  He knows what to do now.  He knows how to make things right.

The staff in his hands feels heavier, for a moment, but MK grips it tight and bends it to his will.  He pogos out of the island with ease, letting the wind whip his hair back.

He hasn’t blinked in a while.  He forgot he had to.  He blinks because the wind makes his eyes sting, and touches the ground with a gentleness he didn’t know he could master.

He lets his eyes glow gold, searching.  He remembers, now, how to look at auras.  He remembers a lot of things now.  It’s like the pressing weight of being weak for the sake of niceties has vanished, and now he is sharp and ready.

The only question is which of his enemies does he go after first?  He needs to get all of them, keep them secure.  It’s the only way the town, the city, will be safe.

The small fry first.  We’ll work our way up to the demon king.

Right, that makes sense.  MK grins to himself.  It’s so nice to have someone constantly helping, constantly making sure he’s doing the right thing.  He’s useless on his own, but give him a direction and he’ll follow it to the letter.

He can see gold and silver, in the distance.  He forgets their names, at first, but their auras jog his memory.  Yin and Jin.

They put him in the calabash.  They weren’t good at it, but they were good enough.  They’re demons.  Dangerous.  He needs to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.  

He heads to their home, not in a hurry.  There’s no rush to the inevitable.  Is this what self confidence is?  The feeling of knowing you can do it, that you will do it, that no one can stop you?  It feels very gratifying.  He lets the glow in his eyes vanish, because he doesn’t want to startle everyone around him.  

His phone buzzes.  A text from Pigsy, demanding to know where he is.  He responds with ‘Dealing with Monkie Kid stuff.  Be back soon!’ and a string of emojis that Pigsy will find incomprehensible, before continuing on his trek.

He reaches the door, and hears a conversation.

“So, our plan has three steps.  That’s an improvement,” Yin seems to be pacing, from what MK can hear.

“Step one, capture the monkie kid,” Jin pipes up, and MK fights back a laugh.  “Step two, take the staff from him.” 

As if they could.  MK almost has to admire their tenacity.

“Step three, take over the world!” Yin finishes, and MK takes that as his cue to step in.

He knocks in the door.  Polite.  He still has manners, after all.

“Huh?  Jin, did you order out for dinner again?” Yin barks out.

“We don’t have the money for that!” Is the response.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Yin grumbles, moving to the door.

Here they come!

MK counts the steps Yin takes to the door, itching with anticipation.

“Hello?” Yin opens the door, and then jumps in surprise.

“Hi!” MK waves, and taps his staff on the ground.

There’s a thunk; not a thud of a body, but a thunk of a block of ice.  MK pats the statue with a fond look.  He’ll chip away the extra pieces later.  This is his first attempt, it’s normal for it to be less precise.  He can get better at it with practice.  Jin turns, from his place at the desk, and his eyes widen when he sees his brother, frozen on the floor.

“Yin—what did you do?” Red eyes glow dangerously, and MK wonders if they would be more ferocious if he threatened one over the other.  Jin gets up, teeth bared.

“This,” MK replies, tapping his staff on the ground.

Jin takes a step forward and freezes in place. Or, is frozen, MK supposes.  He looks at the brothers, safely imprisoned, and wonders.  Where is he going to put them?  There’s not enough room here for all of his enemies to be placed.  What’s a good place to set everything up?

The cave?  The old villain hideout?  

That’s perfect!  After all, it would be the funniest form of irony, right?  Turning a villain hideout to his base for his world saving plan.  Gosh, he’s so smart.  Because this is him, all him.  He finally is smart enough to know what to do.  He has to clear out the cave, first.  It’s not far away, hidden beneath the sewers.  There’s a path to it from the area where the staff used to lie.

He sets Yin and Jin next to each other, considering their poses.  He thinks they look a little off, but he can fix that, right?  He can fix anything, given enough time.  That’s what all this is, fixing the problem of demons who’ve escaped because of DBK’s release.  He nods to himself, and heads off.  He has rocks to clear out, he has a cave to excavate.

But, he promised Pigsy that he’d be back soon.  That stops him short.  He can’t skip work!

This will make him far happier in the long run.

Still, what’s a few hours of work to make Pigsy happy now?  He shakes off the one track mind and puts his staff away.  The ice won’t melt fast (or at all) and he’s got time.  The flash of cold he gets in response to that thought doesn’t inspire comfort, and he second guesses himself a few times, but he heads to the shop anyway.

“Hey Pigsy!” he waves, and Pigsy glances at him and jerks a thumb over to the pile of orders on the counter.  “On it!” 

MK swoops them up and sets them all on the delivery cart.  Pigsy glances at him again, and then freezes.

“MK?” he asks.

MK turns, blinking a few times.  “Yeah?” he responds, and Pigsy peers at him, almost suspicious.

MK tilts his head to the side in confusion.  A part of him is glad that he has concealer on, because they don’t have the time to chat about MK’s new skin tone, not with all these orders.  He watches Pigsy shiver, muttering something about the A/C acting up, before Pigsy shakes himself off and sets his hands on his hips.

“I thought-your eyes-nevermind.  Get those orders out!” Pigsy barks, and MK stands at attention, giving Pigsy a salute.

“On it!” He promises, sliding out of the shop and hopping onto the delivery cart.

It only takes an hour, which is much faster than he usually is, but focus comes easy when he’s driven.  The faster he gets this done they faster he gets to get back to his real work.  The work that will make things better for everyone.

Right. Of course.

His shift ends when the store closes, and he’s gone before Pigsy can say anything about his work ethic or ask where MK has been or is going.  He rushes to the construction site, dives below, rushing past the decaying plants where there once were flowers and a growing tree.  Without Monkey King’s staff, there’s nothing making sure the plants live.  MK frowns at the sight but stays focused on the task at hand.

Aim.  The staff can be as large as a mountain if it needs to be.  Crush what’s in your way.

He nods to himself, breaking through the rubble that has blocked off the tunnel.  The ground shakes, the whole underground rumbles with power, and he hopes he’s not keeping anyone up.  Then again, it’s not too bad if it’s just for a night, considering how many nights later he’s going to keep quiet.  Everyone will be able to rest easy once he’s done.  

He huffs a breath, and it comes out white.  He should be concerned, but honestly it looks cool.  He remembers to blink, because his eyes are starting to burn.  He doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting.

He makes his way to the cavern, and uses ice to keep the ceiling up.  Pillars rise, frost fills the spaces between rocks that would have cracked and splintered eventually.  The floor remains untouched, save for when he fills in the cracks that could trip someone up.

He doesn’t remember when he got these ice powers.  They seem new?  Why hasn’t he used them before?  How come Monkey King never told him about them?

Monkey King’s always had ice powers.

Has he?  MK isn’t so sure about that.

You’re his successor, not a carbon copy.  It makes sense you would have different powers than him.

Right.  MK nods to himself.  Now, time to get Yin and Jin!  Carrying them is going to be a challenge.

It takes him an hour to get them both there, and another half hour to figure out where to put them.  He has to consider DBK’s size.  Wait, does he have to go and get the spider demon lady?  He shivers at the thought, a deep well of terror sinking in his gut.  Even as self assured as he is now, spiders still terrify him.

I can take care of that.

Really?

Yes.  But first, rest.

Right.  He needs to head back to his house.  Pigsy will be worried if he doesn’t come home soon.  He heads out of the construction site, skipping all the way home.

He barely sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week is certainly a busy one.  MK spends any time not with his friends searching, and he spends far less time with his friends, nowadays.  The spider demon isn’t easy to find.  He does manage to get some small fry lesser demons he hadn’t met before and now never will.  He doesn’t need to meet people who will inevitably try to kill him and those around him.  Far better to prevent the attack than deal with the aftermath thereof.

His collection of ice sculptures is growing.  MK likes to spend time chipping away at the blocks to them more polished.  It’s like sketching, in a way, or cleaning up a sketch.  It also gives him an opportunity to practice a more precise use of his ice powers.  He can make a mean ice chisel now, and he’s learned how to force the limbs of those frozen into the position he likes.  Yin and Jin stand on top of each other, like they did in their introduction.  The expressions on their faces aren’t what he likes, but he can cover it with frost and it’s like it was never there.

He meets up with Mei, one afternoon.

“Hey, MK!” She barrels into him, and immediately jumps back.

He reaches out, missing the contact, but she shakes out a shiver.  “Dang, you’re cold!” She slugs him on the shoulder, and he laughs.

“I feel fine.  Maybe you’re just being dramatic,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, before her eyes glance at his face and she freezes.  “What?”

“Your eyes,” she murmurs, all joking replaced with concern.  He tilts his head to a side in confusion.  “They’re blue?” She adds.

“Oh!” he says, and the words that come out of his mouth don’t sound like him at all.  He doesn’t think he thought of them, and he doesn’t feel his lips move but the sound comes out anyway.  “I’m trying out some contacts.  Do you like them?” He bats his eyelashes at her, all in jest.

Her confusion melts into a smile. “I like your regular eye color better,” She admits.  “But those look cool!”  

She grabs him by his wrist, using his jacket as a buffer, and drags him to an arcade.  Every machine he touches sticks a little, the joystick and button a tad frozen by his touch, and he doesn’t win a match by any means, but he doesn’t mind.  Every time Mei leans close to him it feels like a victory.  Even though he feels warm, at least a sort of freezer burn warmth, the people around him have pulled away.  He’s too cold for them.  

He needs contact.  

Someone trips Mei as they’re running around the arcade.  Her nose bleeds, and MK feels his hackles rising.  Someone hurt his friend.  A demon?  A scan of the area reveals no such thing.  Just a mean person.  He can hear them snickering as they walk away.

Mei is more important than MK’s anger, so he takes her outside and finds some tissues, cleans her up.  He takes her out to her favorite restaurant (not Pigsy’s, though they’ll never tell him that) and they end the night with a race around town.  Her bike is an electric green streak, and he’ll never catch up, but he gives it his all before they finish outside his place.

“See ya later!” Mei still sounds a bit stuffed up from the nosebleed, and MK waves until she’s out of sight.  When she disappears, his expression shutters, anger against her unrecognizable assailant returning in a flash.

He’s been getting rid of demons, but that’s not enough!  Mei still got hurt, because people are unpredictable.  He heads to his room and paces.  How can he fix it, how can he make it better?

Maybe more than demons should be frozen.

MK stops in his tracks.  Now, there’s an idea.  But to freeze them forever, that seems like too much.

Not forever.  Just until they know how to behave.  Think of it as a pause button.

It would be nice if things just stopped for a moment.  Then he could have all the time in the world to fix it.  Once he gets the demons out of the way, he can do that.  Then, once everyone learns to behave, they can come out.  However long that takes.

He can be patient, for his friends.  This is all for them, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A day after that, and he’s found the Spider Demon’s lair.  Every step he takes inside makes him shake, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take her.  He’s so nervous, so scared.

I can help, remember?  Just take a deep breath.

He takes a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

He closes his eyes.  

He doesn’t open them, but they open anyway.  Everything is washed in a soft layer of white, like frost, and his body moves but he doesn’t tell it to.  The fear he felt is muted, and he settles into the comfort of its absence.  He asked for this, right?

The spider demon—she wanted to be a Queen, right?  MK hadn’t been really paying attention when she went on her rant, too petrified to listen—skitters out, and when she locks eyes with him, she smiles.

“Aww, is the little monkie boy back to play?” She giggles, and MK’s body throws the staff at her.  She ducks with a yelp, and scrambles back.  “Ooo, we’re rough, now?  Seems you’re not so scared anymore,” She purrs, but he can hear the nervousness in her voice as the staff comes back to his hand.

“Iͥ ʷgͣˢoᶰtͤ ͮoͤvͬeˢrͨ ͣiͬtͤᵈ.” The sound comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t sound much like MK at all.  Huh.  His body takes a step forward, and ice spreads out from beneath his foot.  “Tͭuͧrͬᶰnˢs ͦoͧuͭtʸ,ͦ ͧyˢoͪuͦ'ͧˡrͩe ͪnͣoͮtͤ ᵇtͤhͤᶰeʷ ͦsͬcͬaͥrͤiͩesͣᵇtͦ ͧdͭemͫoͤn ͥoͫuᶠtͬ ͤtͤhere.” 

The Spider Queen’s expression shifts, and she tries to run, but MK’s legs are faster. He watches himself move, jumping over stones and cliffs and any obstacle.  The webs she tries to trap him in freeze, and he slides across them as if his feet were skates.

Eventually, he corners her.  MK watches his body close in, and suddenly he’s back in control, staring her down.  Satisfaction crawls up his back, a cold grin splitting his face in two.

“ʷWͪhͦˢoˢ'ͨsͣ ͬsͤcͩaᶰrͦʷed now?” He grins, and she screams.

Ice, it turns out, is a great muffler.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finding DBK’s hiding place is harder.  MK locates it just outside the city limits, in an abandoned scrapyard.  The perfect place to get parts for new bull clones and other random things Red Son can come up with.

He decides to go on the weekend, but as he prepares the night before Monkey King makes an appearance in his room.

“Hey, bud,” MK jumps at his arrival.

He must have been hiding as a bug or something, like when MK first found the staff.

“Monkey King!” He grins at his arrival, hopping up.  “What’s the occasion?  Is there something new you wanted to teach me?  Is there a demon we have to fight?”  We, not as in MK and Monkey King, but MK and himself.  Because he’s not one, not really, and that’s fun!  He hates being alone, after all.

“No, no,” Monkey King chuckles, overly fond.  Right, MK hasn’t been to Flower Fruit Mountain for a week.  “It’s just-you left pretty early, and, uh, you didn’t say anything about our next training sesh, you know?  And, uhh, pretty sure you shouldn’t be slacking off on that.”

The half hearted scolding aside, MK almost thinks that Monkey King missed him.  But that’s ridiculous.

“Well, you were sleeping when I got up, and I had to go to work,” The lie slips easily off of his tongue.  “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left!  Um, we’re busy tomorrow, but Sunday works for training, if that’s cool?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, ever excited.

“We’re?  Who’s cooler than me to hang out with?” Monkey King reaches out to ruffle his hair, and MK can feel the shiver that jolts through the monkey’s body at the touch.  Monkey King doesn’t comment on it, though.

“I promised Mei we’d hang out.  It’s been a busy week at the shop, so I haven’t been able to party with her,” He doesn’t know where these lies are coming from.

Sometimes he talks and it’s not him at all.  He should be concerned, but honestly he doesn’t mind if his other self takes the reigns.  He fumbles over his words way too often to be annoyed that someone is smoothing him out.

Polished like an ice sculpture; MK thinks he could be beautiful if he was like that.

“Alright, fine.  You and your friend can….do whatever it is kids do these days.  Am I an adult—oh my god I’m an adult,” Monkey King flops back onto his nimbus cloud with a groan while MK giggles.  

“Anyway, get some rest, bud.  You look tired,” is the last thing Monkey King says to him.

“On it!” MK salutes, and Monkey King floats through the window and then rockets off.  The papers in MK’s room all swirl from the blowback, and MK grabs one of the sketches that floats back down.

He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Tang for a story. The last time he sketched anything else at all.  But, a hero doesn’t need hobbies so trivial.

He plans.  Plans for how the city is going to look like, when he’s finished with it all.  He doesn’t need to write down the steps to get there, he has his head voice for that, but the city.  How it will look, when he’s done.  He has to figure it out, draw it out, and pin it to the wall so he can look at it every morning and evening and remember why he’s doing this.  So he sketches.  Pins the piece to the wall.  

Squints.  He doesn’t like it.  

Back to the drawing board.

His wall is covered by the time the sun rises, and MK still isn’t satisfied.  But there is no time to waste.  So, he picks up the outfit that feels all the more new—blue isn’t a color he expected to like, but blue is cold is safe is good is the burning warmth he needs, so he leaves the orange jacket and red headband hanging off of his desk chair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he can barely tell the difference!

He is gone before Pigsy comes up with breakfast, before Pigsy calls for Tang to look at the mess MK left behind, enough drawings of the same thing for anyone to get the picture.  He is gone before Pigsy and Tang investigate, speak in hushed tones, and call for Sandy, Mei, and eventually Monkey King.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Getting to the outskirts of town is the easy part.  Infiltrating DBK’s base is a bit harder.  It’s not heavily fortified, but MK thinks that’s more because he has never tried to infiltrate such a place.  He doesn’t really attack first, he just protects.  But that’s not good enough anymore, clearly.  He can’t just be protective, he needs to be proactive.

He slides past the guards, freezes them for good measure.  After all, they’re going to be made useless once he takes their leader down, so it’s not as if he’s wasting anything.  There’s also always the chance they get wise, and MK doesn’t want his entrance ruined.

The inner sanctum of the base looks more like a house, made large to accommodate DBK’s figure.  There are pictures on the wall, from painted portraits to black and white to color photos.  MK supposes that the Demon Bull Family has been around long enough to have portraits taken in all sorts of mediums.  He wonders if they have statues, a shrine?  He bites back a giggle at the thought.

The booming sound of cloven footsteps alerts MK to DBK’s arrival, though by the sounds of two voices approaching, Princess Iron Fan must be with him.

“Red Son has been pulling away from us,” the gravel in DBK’s voice is soft, somehow.  MK listens in with interest.  What is it they are doing to their son now?

“You tried to kill him.  He can’t help but take it personally,” is Princess Iron Fan’s reply.  “He barely knows you, and he’s young.  He’ll grow out of it,” she waves a hand, unconcerned.

MK glares at them.  The temperature in the hallway drops, until Princess Iron Fan shivers.

“Darling, I thought this house had a heating function?” Princess Iron fan curls her arms around herself, and DBK picks her up and sets her on his shoulder, suddenly on guard.

“It does, the boy made it so,” he growls, sniffing around for intruders.  MK decides to let himself be known.

“Hi!” he says as he pops out from around the corner.

“Noodle boy?” Princess Iron Fan questions.

“Little Thief,” DBK growls.

“Actually, I go by MK,” he corrects cheerily.  “But, anyway, could you hold still?  This will be harder if you move,” He twirls his staff casually.  DBK growls, and Princess Iron Fan places a hand on the side of his face to silence him.

“MK,” Princess Iron Fan starts, with a forced air of politeness.  “We are in your debt for helping save my husband.  However, if you attack us, we will have no choice but to fight back, and we will not be kind.”

She grins, self assured, and continues  “And you know what happened the last time you tried to fight me.”

Fire.  Volcanoes.  She had tried to kill him and, more importantly, she had made his friends cry.  But things have changed, haven’t they?

MK giggles.  The sound echoes, and the hallway gets colder.  Frost crawls over the walls, and MK looks up with eyes that glow.

“Aͣcͨtͭuͧaͣˡlˡlʸy,ͥ Iͭ ��tͥᶰhᵏiʸnͦkͧ ˢyͪoͦuͧˡ'ͩllͬ ͧᶰfiͥᶠnʸdͦ ͧmᵏeᶰ ͦʷtʷoͪ ͣbͭˢeᵍ ͦhͦaͩrᶠdͦeͬrʸ ͦtͧo ᶰbͦeͭatͭ ͪtͣhͭaʸnͦ ͧbeͨfͣᶰorͤˢeͨᵃᵖᵉ,” He jumps up with a smile, and sprints forward.

Something dawns on her face, and Princess Iron Fan stands.

“Darling, we need to run,” She says, quickly, but MK jumps and bounces off of the walls and is eye to eye with her before she can explain.

She doesn’t even have time to grab her fan.

DBK jumps back as the block of ice slides off his shoulder and he roars.

“Father?!” MK hears Red Son’s voice from afar and ignores that for now.

“I will tear you to pieces you ingrate!” DBK shouts, and MK laughs.

“ʸYͦoͧu ͨcͦoͧˡuͩᶰlͭdnͤ'ͮtͤᶰ ˢeͭvͦᵖenͫ ͤbʷeͪaͤᶰt ͥmʷeͣˢ wͥᶰhʸeͦnͧ ͬI ͪwͤaͣsͩnʸ'ͦtͧ ᶠtͦrͦˡying!” he shouts back, dodging a blow that sinks DBK’s fist in the wall.

The frost slides from the wall to DBK’s arm, gluing him there.  He fires the gun on his other arm, and MK dodges. 

“Nͥiͩcͥeͦ ͭshot!” He dances around the room.

DBK takes a step in the wrong direction, and slips on the ice cube that is his wife, dropping to the ground.  MK wastes no time, and DBK’s roar is silenced abruptly.

Finally.

Finally.

“Noodle Boy!  What on earth are you doing?!” Red Son looks rather steamed, if the smoke coming off of him is any indication.

“Hi, Red Son!  I was just taking care of your parents,” MK gestures to the popsicles on the floor.  Red Son stares, face a mixture of confusion and horror, and MK barrels toward him.  “Now they can’t be mean to you anymore.  You can make fun inventions and not have to be a mean guy all the time!” Honestly, if anything, Red Son should be thanking MK, but MK doesn’t do this for thanks.  He takes a few hairs and blows on them, and his clones start to work on moving the new additions to his cave.

“You—” Red Son is at a loss for words before landing on “Give me back my parents!”

See, MK was worried about that.  He would likely have responded the same, when he first left his parents.

“But I worked hard to get them out of the way!” MK pouts.  “But, I get it.  You don’t understand.  You just need to ᵍcͤoͭolͦ ͧdͭowͦᶠn,ͦ ͧoͬkʷaͣʸy?” MK reaches out, places a hand on Red Son’s shoulder before he can be stopped, and Red Son is going to freeze too, when—

Red Son explodes, and MK burns.

It’s not enough to melt the ice, no, but MK is thrown back against the wall, eyes wide.

The chill in his bones vanishes with a screech, and all he can hear is screaming.  For a moment, something rises within him.  

This is wrong.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be.

He isn’t a bad person, he isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t do this.  

He needs to stop, he needs to—

And then the flames vanish, and so does Red Son, and the cold slips back into place with brutal efficiency.  MK blinks, tries to remember where he is.  Right, DBK and Princess Iron Fan.  He got them!  Great.

His clones have been destroyed in the blaze, so he makes some new ones, and heads back to base.  

A shame he couldn’t get Red Son to understand, but they all will soon enough.

Good job, vessel.

MK feels warm.  It burns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s deliberating back at his hideout about where his newest statues should go when he hears a sharp gasp from behind him.  He turns, and Mei is looking at him with something that looks like horror, but that can’t be right.  Why would she be horrified by something so beautiful?

“MK?” she starts, cautiously.  “What…happened to you?  You look really bad, why are you wearing blue?”

“I like the color!” he asserts.  “And I’m fine!”

She purses her lips, and then tries again.

“Um...MK.  What is this?” She points to the frozen menagerie behind him.

MK does not pout, even though he feels like he should.

“You ruined the surprise,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest.  “I stopped all the bad guys!  See?” he gestures to them.  “Now they can’t hurt anyone.”

There’s a pause, before Mei can catch up, where MK asks, “Hey, do you think people would want to put them in a museum?” He taps his chin with his index finger, deliberating.

“How did you...does Monkey King have powers like this?” she tries, a third time.

“No, I don’t,” MK jumps at the sound of Monkey King’s voice.  Monkey King floats down on his cloud, hopping off and looking at MK with an air of suspicion.  “Kid, how are you doing this?  Why are you doing this?”

“‘Cause they hurt you guys,” MK has been itching for a chance to explain, to get someone to understand.  “And the-my head voice gave me the idea.  Once these guys are all gone, everyone can be safe, and no one will leave!”

“Head voice?” Pigsy comes from behind a pillar.  “MK, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the voice in your head that sounds like you?” He explains.  “It-it told me how to do it.  And I’m not a carbon copy of Monkey King, it makes sense that I’d have a few new powers, you know?”

“No,” Tang appears, from somewhere.

When did all of his friends get here?  He can see Sandy, Mo in tow on his shoulder, peeking in. 

“You shouldn’t have any deviations.  Maybe your transformations would be different, but to go so far as to have ice powers?” Tang pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and his glasses flash.  “That shouldn’t be possible, given Monkey King’s power set.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Sandy’s voice is very soft, as he approaches, just like when they were on the boat.  

“Nothing!” MK’s voice is cheery as ever.  “I’m just fixing things, okay?  I think you need to ˢcͪhͧiͭllͧᵖ ʷoͧʲuͥᶰtᵍ,” he reaches forward, and Sandy and Mo are ice.

Mei screams.

“What?” MK looks on, bewildered, as his friends stare at him in horror.  “He’ll be fine!  It doesn’t hurt.  I’ve been freezing for ages!  It gets warm after a while.”

His eyes glow, and Tang pales.

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and MK turns to him.

“What about her?” he asks, and Tang puts a hand to his mouth, biting his lip and glancing between the rest of the group and MK, unsure.

“Bud,” Monkey King takes a few cautious steps toward MK, as if MK were a cornered animal.  His feet slip a little on the ice, but not enough to stop his careful approach.  His tail is poised and very still, not so much as a twitch from it.  “I think you’re feeling a bit...um, scrambled right now.  Why don’t you hand me the staff, and we can talk about this?” He gives MK a soft smile, but MK frowns.

If he takes the staff you can’t finish your work! Does he think you don’t deserve it anymore?

“But I need it,” he responds, simple and to the point.  “It’s mine.”  Right?  Because Monkey King gave it to him.  Gifts can’t be taken back, right?  MK’s still worthy, right?

Monkey King takes a deep breath, like he’s biting back a retort.

“Preeeeetty sure I let you borrow it.  ‘S called ‘Monkey King’s Staff’ for a reason, bud.  C’mon.” 

Another step forward.  MK grips the staff tighter.  

“MK, please,” Tang calls from his other side.

Don’t let him take it!

“We need you to let go!” Mei’s voice hits his ears.

They’re all lying to you!  

“Kid-I-c’mon, just let ‘em have it and we can go home,” Pigsy’s voice breaks, and MK feels like he’s going to break with it.

Is he even going to let you keep your home?!

Monkey King is close enough that MK can feel the heat of his power emanating off of him, of the great Sun Wukong.  His paws are soft and somehow even warmer than his power as he curls them around MK’s grip on the staff.

They don’t understand! They’re going to abandon you!

“That’s it, easy does it,” Relief colors Monkey King’s tone, and he smiles at MK as if MK were the sun.  It’s too soft to be true.  “Just hand it over, and we’ll make sure everything’s okay, alright?”

He starts to tug, pulling the staff out of MK’s grip ever so gently, and MK flinches as the voice rings loud in his ear.

YOU NEED IT DON’T LET HIM TAKE IT FROM YOU HE’LL RUIN EVERYTHING—

“It’s MͫIͥᶰNͤE!” MK shouts, and he slams the side of it into Monkey King’s stomach and launches his mentor across the room.

Monkey King crashes into the wall, groaning as he pushes away the falling rubble.  MK’s eyes are wild.  

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it!  I need it!” Ice crawls over his right hand, cementing his grip.  

Tang sees it, takes a step back, and turns to the two horrified bystanders.

“Run!” he shouts, and Mei bolts.  Pigsy stares, motioning for Tang to run, but Tang is too close to MK to do anything.

“What’d you do that for?” MK frowns, lowering a hand onto Tang’s shoulder.  Pigsy makes a choked sound.

“Go!  Bajie, get out of here!” Tang shouts, far more desperate than MK expected.  Why is everyone so terrified?  This is just a misunderstanding.

“Okay, tͭiͦmͦeˡ ͣoͭuͤt ͭfͦorͬ ͧᶰyˢoͣᶰuᶻᵃᶰᵍ,” MK pats Tang’s shoulder once, and Tang is rooted to the spot.  MK freezes him slower, because Tang isn’t strong, merely smart.  And if he does it slow, then he doesn’t have to chisel away the extra later.

Mei comes roaring in on her bike, and she picks up Pigsy by the back of his chef’s coat, throws him on the back of her bike, and zooms off.

“Tang!” Pigsy screams, but his voice gets farther and farther away.

“What’s wrong?” MK is so confused.  He looks to Monkey King, who is just sitting there on his cloud, horrified.

“Sun Wukong,” Tang says, voice hard.  The ice is up to his chest.  “Get out of here.  Bajie is going to be a wreck after this.”

“Can you make sense!” MK throws his hands up, tired of being ignored, talked over, walked over.  “Or at least ˢsͪtͧoͭp ͧᵖtalking!” And Tang goes silent, frozen.

MK turns back to Monkey King, and finds that his mentor has vanished.

Well, that won’t do.

After them!

MK jumps onto a disk of ice and slides across stone, feet still as the ice barrels over any obstacle, leading him past the dead sliver of a great mountain and up onto the streets.  Mei just has made her way to ground level, aided up by Monkey King, and MK zeroes in on them.

They pass by cars, and MK ignores the blaring horns as he slides over city streets.  The ice trailing behind him makes cars swerve out of control, but he needs to get to his friends.  They have to understand.  This is all for them!

The ice shoots forward, and he gets closer and closer, until Mei’s back wheel hits frost and the back of the bike jerks one way, the front the other.  The bike slips onto its side with immediacy, and Pigsy and Mei go sprawling as Mei’s bike falls apart, skidding across the ice.

Oh no.

“Mei!” he runs to her side.  

She groans, her bike suit torn.  He doesn’t even think about Pigsy at the moment, too worried about his best friend to think of the other person he hurt.  Plus, Pigsy’s a full grown adult, and MK has never seen Pigsy hurt like Mei is, so it doesn’t even register that Pigsy could be as injured as she is.  Her left arm has a large patch of skin that’s been burnt off by the road, and her legs are bleeding from various places.  Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, so MK doesn’t have to worry about something so serious.  

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.  Are you alright?  Where does it hurt?  I’m sorry!”

Some ice might help with the pain.

Right, right, icing the wound always helps.  He goes to make some, the power swirling in his hand, when a horn from a car blares, making him wince.  

Gosh, humans.  They’re so annoying!  If they could just stay out of the way, because he needs to fix this, that’d be great.

Remember the pause button?

It seems very inviting.  MK nods.  

Right.  A pause button.

“Just a sec, Mei,” he leaves her groaning on the ground, turning to face the city.

He slams his staff into the ground.

Ice shoots out in a wild dash.  It crawls over and into everything.  Cars, buildings, people—everything freezes.  He hears some screams, and watches people try and run for the hills, but the cold is faster. It billows down the streets, kicking up a white haze that is almost impossible to see through, that the pedestrians tripping on ice and solidifying get lost in, but it’s a snowy sheen that MK sees through perfectly. He can see the polished figures of buildings, glistening beneath their ice, the little mounds that must be people beneath the thick layer of ice. 

It’s all so pristine. So perfect.

Finally.

Finally.

MK is glad for the quiet.  With him and himself in his head, it’s hard to deal with outside noise. He just needed a moment of calm, to get to the task at hand.

The task at hand...Mei!

“Mei, are you—” he stops.  Mei and Pigsy aren’t there.  

His eyes search for them, and he can see Monkey King hurriedly pulling them up onto his cloud.  “Wait!”

Monkey King looks at him, and MK’s face is pleading.  He just wants to do right.  Why don’t they understand?  Once he fixes it all, everyone will be happy.  Can’t they wait?

“Sorry, bud,” Monkey King says.  

MK doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. A rush of panic tries to grip his brain, something that was once so familiar, something that was once so him, but it disappears in MK’s desperation to act.

The cloud zooms off. He throws a hand out, running after it.

“NO!”

This is just like his dream.  At the edge of the city, a wall of ice rises.  It sparkles in the light of the setting sun, and MK raises it higher, and higher, as Monkey King and Mei and Pigsy and everyone he cares about most gets farther and farther away.

Monkey King punches through the ice, and they disappear into the horizon.

MK drops to his knees. They land hard on the frozen ground.

“You said they wouldn’t leave,” he whimpers out, crying because it hurts and he doesn’t know exactly why.

It’s more than just regular pain.  Something warm and different and yet familiar stings.  Something knows this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!  If this was the right thing to do, why would everyone leave?

“I have to stop!” The words are forced out of his mouth.  

MK doesn’t know when the words are him and when the words are something else.  He doesn’t know who he is.  What’s right?  What’s wrong?  How can he tell?  

He’s just been listening to his own head, but his own head is arguing with itself.  

He slams his free fist into his temple, to try and make things settle.

Chains drag him to the ground, leaving him stuck.

You are doing everything just right.

The voice is soft in one ear, but on the other side MK hears No! On repeat.  No, this isn’t right.  You froze good people.  Innocent people!  You froze Tang and Sandy!  You made Pigsy cry!  You hurt Mei!

They don’t understand yet.  Monkey King is notoriously stubborn.  He isn’t ready for his successor to pass him yet.  All you have to do is wait for them to come back.  And they will.

It’s harder and harder to hear the argument against this.  

The voice sounds so self assured.  The warmth that doesn’t burn gets weaker and weaker, like a fire out of kindling.  

He wheezes, and tears turn to snowflakes on his skin.  He chokes on his own breath.  It comes out white and fogs his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  

Everyone’s gone.  

He’s alone.  

This can’t be right.

It is.  You just haven’t done enough yet.

That, MK understands.  The need to do more, be more.  It makes far more sense that he hasn’t done enough, than anything else.

“They’ll come back?” He asks, and his voice sounds so loud in the quiet.  He feels a hand brush his hair back.  He leans into the touch, but it’s gone.

Of course.  

MK stands.  The chains vanish, and he smiles.

“Okay then!  Let’s get to work!”  

He hasn’t let go of the staff in ages.  He doesn’t think he can.  He turns to the mess he’d made in his rush job, the frozen city’s statue.  He has to fix that, it’s unsightly!  Mei and Pigsy and Monkey King won’t like a mess.

As he plans, as he hopes, he feels a smile in the back of his head.  It feels like a snowball to his skull, chilling and yet a comfort, somehow.

Wonderful work, Vessel.  We’re going to do great things together.

[purple-martin111]

The Sacrifices We Make

Read on Archive of Our Own

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: The Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor Characters: Paladin Danse, Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Guilt, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Heavy Angst, Abuse, Mental Health Issues

Chapter 3 - The Road to Righteousness

"Well hold on, my darling This mess was yours, Now your mess is mine" -Mess is Mine, Vance Joy-

“I’ll see you on the other side…”

BANG!

Darkness exploded around her and Jackie shot up from her bedroll.

“Danse?!” She cried, feverishly groping for her rifle or her Pip-Boy, anything to help fend off whatever had jolted her awake.

“Soldier?”  It came out forceful and frantic as Danse clanked through the room, “What is it? What’s the matter?” 

“I-I don’t know... I can’t breathe!”  Jackie panted, her pounding heart threatening to strangle her. “Something’s wrong!” 

Unable to control her racing thoughts, Jackie trembled and clung to her bedroll. She was convinced she’d perish in a fit of hysteria or at the very least, die of embarrassment. In an attempt to conceal her shameful state and regain some semblance of control, she pressed her face into her hands,

“You’re alright.”  

She nearly leapt out of her skin at Danse’s hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ear. So consumed by her irrational fear, she hadn’t even heard him exit his power armor. It stood looming at the edge of the room and Danse... Danse was so near that Jackie was suddenly overwhelmed by all the emotions she’d been trying so hard to bury since leaving the vault. All the pain and heartache, her insurmountable grief, leaked from the little box she’d haphazardly stuffed them away in. 

“It’s not real, you’re safe. It’ll pass, just breathe.” 

Danse had taken a knee beside her and his grip, firm on her shoulder, moored her to reality. At least until she met his gaze and those heartbreakingly familiar brown eyes shattered her sanity. It took everything in her not to clamber into his arms and weep away her troubles. Instead Jackie clutched at his uniform and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the haunting reminder and hold back the tears caught just behind her lids. 

Nate, she missed him so goddamn much it hurt. But Danse...right now, Danse would have to do. She let his soft, calming words sooth her aching heart and slowly the panic subsided. Left with only an echo, Jackie’s hands fall into her lap. Broken and hollow, she grasped at the ghosts of her former life splintering in the parallels of her mind. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and pawed at her face, wiping at tears or the flush of shame she didn’t know. 

“This is common among soldiers.” His hand lingered on her shoulder, a gentle reminder that despite her madness, Danse still had her back. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Jackie just stared at her hands. There was sadness in Danse’s voice, a resonance of understanding that made her wonder about his own mental state. She wasn’t blind. She’d seen how he struggled. How he kept himself endlessly busy, avoiding sleep or rest so he didn’t have to confront his own demons. Danse carried the weight of the wasteland on his shoulders and clearly he cared about her. He was a tough nut to crack, but underneath it all he was kind and a good man. 

All Jackie had done since enlisting was repay his kindness in cruelty. She had been insubordinate at best and nothing short of a cold-hearted bitch at worst. 

“I haven’t treated you fairly,” she admitted, “I’ve been angry and so caught up in myself. You...” she nervously wrung her hands together as she trailed off, “you were an easy target.” 

Danse shifted to lean his elbow on his knee. “Sometimes trauma makes us do things we aren’t proud of.” 

“Doesn’t give me the right to be nasty.” She glanced over at him and was met with the faintest of smiles. 

“Is that an apology I hear, soldier?”  

“I-ah…,” she tittered to herself, “yeah, I suppose it is.” 

Danse continued grinning and knocked his shoulder against hers, "I appreciate the sentiment.” 

She leaned into him, wishing he could give her so much more than just fleeting touches. “Thanks,” she muttered and pulled away before her emotions got the better of her again, “I can take watch if you want.” 

“Negative,” his fingers brushed against her shoulder as he stood to retreat back to his armor, waiting until he was safely encased inside before continuing, “but you can sit with me if you’d like.” 

Just breathe.

Jackie’s chest ached at the recollection of that moment. Danse…he was the only thing worth fighting for in this world, the only thing keeping her breathing. He was her lifeblood and if he died at the hands of the Brotherhood for her mistakes, they might as well kill her too. 

This was her fault. She should have done more, fought harder, told Maxson where he could shove it and walked away. Should have run and never looked back and taken Danse somewhere far away. Somewhere near the sea where they could watch the sunrise and hear the waves crashing upon the sand in the evening. Leave it all behind and allow the Commonwealth to fall to its own demises. Jackie, however, had been selfish and naive in thinking that she and Danse could live in peace without retribution.

Despite her shaking hands and pounding pulse, she refused to be consumed by panic. It rattled her bones, scratching at her skull like the parasite it was, but Jackie pushed herself forward. She forced her feet to carry her across the room to where she had dumped her duffle bag the night before. Hastily, she stripped of her night clothes and plucked a clean uniform from her pack, dressing with little regard to her personal appearance. 

Unkempt and unhinged, her hair was a rat’s nest of wheat colored straw and her face a dirty, tear stained mess, but it would have to do. She would have to do.

With a sigh and a final glance around the room, she jabbed the elevator call button. As she waited for its descent she paced, attempting to formulate a plan. A plan that didn’t involve her solo assault on the Brotherhood stronghold or the very real possibility that she would be forced to murder their Elder. 

Shit. 

Staggered by the consequences of Danse’s actions, she stumbled to a halt. If she intended to survive this, she was going to have to bring down the Brotherhood--alone. If by some stroke of dumb luck she was successful, then what? The Commonwealth would crumble at the sudden power vacuum. 

Dammit Danse! 

Jackie slammed her fist against the elevator door just as it clanged open and she was left standing there, messaging her forehead between her fingers. She didn’t know what the hell she was going to do but she slung her duffle bag over her shoulder and snatched up her rifle nonetheless.  She would make it up as she went and wished to whatever gods were still listening that they didn’t end up dead. 

The elevator made an agonizingly slow ascent to the surface and Jackie prayed that she was wrong. She prayed that Danse had just gone to patrol the perimeter or ventured to a nearby settlement for supplies and he would be waiting for her in the vestibule of the bunker. But, when the elevator finally rattled to the surface, Jackie was greeted with darkness and the stark absence of Danse. 

The bunker entrance was empty, and quiet midsummer twilight greeted her as she stepped out into the wasteland. Her heart skipped a stuttering beat at the sight. Perhaps luck was still on her side because in the cover of night and concealed in her armor, Danse might still be alive.

In the distance, the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the skyline in faint wisps of pink and orange. The sunrise lazily eclipsed the deep blues and black of night while she headed east to the unofficial extraction point. As she walked on, she rooted around in her bag, searching for the signal grenade she’d stashed away in case of emergency. 

It didn’t take long to reach the designated location, a vacant stretch of broken road behind the old ironworks factory. She threw down the signal grenade and watched as the plume of smoke circled up into the heavens. Not so patiently she waited for the distant hum of the vertibird’s engines to break the silence.

Minutes crept by and before long the sun breached the horizon. With it, came the feeling of failure. Not once had she bothered to check in with Danse last night to assess his own mental state. His deteriorating physical health had been an obvious sign of his instability, yet Jackie had failed to acknowledge it. Instead, she burdened him with her insignificant troubles and neglected to reciprocate his kindness. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

She had promised to be there for him, help him heal, and secretly she had vowed to love him. Then in the face of hardship, she’d abandoned him. Jackie couldn’t breathe and before she could stop it, tears were tumbling down her cheeks. She had betrayed him when he had needed her the most. 

The crippling intensity of her guilt sliced at her ribs, threatening to tear her apart. It would have been better, easier for them both, if she had just endured the pain of letting Danse go. Allowed him to move on and live out his days in peace. After everything he’d been through, he at least deserved that much.

The ground groaned beneath her feet as she paced in an attempt to occupy her mind and halt the hemorrhaging of her spiraling thoughts. Her gut churned, bile rising in her throat and she commanded her body to be still. Her urge to vomit quelled just in time to hear the familiar whirl of a vertibird’s engines approaching. Earth and grass whipped about and dirt was violently kicked up with the aircraft’s impending landing. Jackie covered her face with her arms, attempting to shield herself from the dust storm. As soon as the vertibird’s landing gear made contact with the ground she hoisted herself up into the troop load, despite the sickening feeling that still lingered.

A familiar face, clad in aviators and arrogance, greeted her when she clambered inside. It was always the same Lancer who retrieved her. The same pilot who had run transport for Danse and his team and who had taken Maxson to the bunker. He was the only one authorized for extraction from this location and even though words had never been exchanged, Jackie knew he knew and she wondered what price he had paid to keep their secret. 

He handed her a headset as she scooted by to sit in the co-pilot’s seat, the roar of the engines drowned out when she slipped it on. 

“Paladin,” His voice crackled through the earpiece, followed by a terse nod and salute. 

“Geers.” Jackie returned the gesture out of habit. 

For a moment Geers watched her, taking in her obviously disheveled state, but chose not to comment, “Ma’am, you’ve got orders to report to the Command Deck immediately upon arrival.” 

“Wonderful,” she scowled, “who did I piss on this time to be owed the pleasure?” 

A knowing look passed between them before he spoke, “The Elder knows where you go when you disappear.” 

Jackie said nothing and stared at her feet, the knots in her stomach twisting tighter. 

Geers allowed the void of conversation to stretch on before he added, “Maxson thought you weren’t coming back this time.” 

And there it was, the painful reminder of her violation. 

“Yeah, that was the plan, but...” She could feel his eyes on her, pitying her, questioning her. 

“...but what?” he dared to ask.

None of your goddamn business. 

Jackie wanted to snap at him. Put him in his place and maintain the distance held within the chain of command, but she bit her tongue because it was rude and Geers was one of the few people trusted. 

She twisted her hands together and mused her bottom lip. Should she tell him the truth? The truth would likely get him killed so Jackie decided on a half-truth. “There's been a recent development that requires my immediate attention back on the Prydwen.”  

Static hissed in the coms while Geers watched her with a frown hovering upon his brow. “You told him about Maxson...didn’t you?” he pressed her with the demand and sharp angel of his eyes when she didn’t immediately respond. “Jackie--” 

“Just take me back,” she snapped. It wasn’t a request, she was done playing games. Every second she spent dicking around with Geers put Danse at risk, they needed to leave--now.  

Geers cursed under his breath and Jackie could hear the eyeroll as he turned back to jab at the instrumentation panel. 

“Whiskey, golf, echo, seven, this is Lancer-Knight Geers en route to the Prywden.” 

Static droned in her ears, her stomach lurching when he abruptly jerked the stick to get them in the air. 

“Acknowledged, what’s your status Lancer?” the voice on the other end asked. 

“All’s quiet here.” Geers glanced over at Jackie, looking more smug than was appropriate for the situation. “But mission objective delta juliette is a go. Standby and I’ll brief you on our arrival.” 

More static and then finally air traffic control came back, “Roger that. You’ve been cleared for landing in bay two upon your arrival.”

“Roger out,” Geers responded and flipped a switch, cutting out the static.

Jackie regarded him with cinched brows, Geers wasn’t one for formalities. “What was that about?”

“Just…” he shrugged and peered over his sunglasses, “maybe you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

She shifted in her seat to fix him a hard glare. “I don’t think you comprehend the gravity of the situation.”

“And I think you underestimate my power of persuasion.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed.

“You’ll just have to trust me,” he smirked and turned his attention back to the horizon, “that maybe you--and Danse--still have some friends in the Brotherhood.”

God, she wanted to smack that stupid little grin right off his face. Somehow though, she managed to restrain herself and not feed his ego with the dignity of a response. Instead, she closed her eyes and hoped that whatever half-baked plan Geers had cooked up didn’t get them all killed.

[petri808]

Awaken the Sleeping Dragon Within

Nalu Canon divergent, would take place after ft 100.  Here you go, I hope you like it!  :)  Lol it ended up longer than I’d expected.

Natsu moves with an extra spring in his step that morning.  The job was a mission complete with no damages and full payment given.  He’d found the perfect gift for Lucy that he’d been searching for and was now on his way back home to Magnolia.  The perfect weather was like a bonus treat that made his travel by foot a pleasant one.

Things had been progressing in their change of relationship status.  Through the whole 100-year quest, the shining revelation was not only that their bond could never be broken, but one that transcends the lines of simple friendship.  When he’d said ‘together forever’ it was a phrase uttered from the heart towards a person he knew he’d always want to be around.  But now he fully understood what it had meant, and it was time to solidify that phrase.  To take it from mere words to action and the gift he held in his pocket would do just that.

It would be another half-day’s journey to Magnolia, which meant he’d have to sleep under the stars one more evening.  Natsu didn’t mind so much.  As long as he could see them, they reminded him of Lucy, and that made him feel less lonely without her at his side.  The roads were quiet considering the holidays were so close in time.  Natsu remembers passing very few travelers, and in the last several hours, none at all.  Yet it was strange that he’d felt eyes watching him on a few occasions.

Just before nightfall, Natsu makes camp just off the side of the road in the first clear area he could find.  He sets up his bedroll, a small campfire, and eats dinner before lying down to get some rest.  The sooner he falls asleep, the faster the morning will come, and it doesn’t take long for mister sandman to come a calling.

There was little warning than a downward draft of air from above bringing with it…

‘What the hell?!’

Natsu jumps to his feet, awoken from a sound sleep by the scent of his brother blasting his senses.  He barely has a chance to dive away and block as a stream of fire burns his belongings to a charred pile and blackens the ground where he had just been occupying.

“Ignia!!!” He screams at the dragon hovering above. “What the fuck is your problem?!”  He was tired of these surprise attacks.  Four times now, but he was glad this time Lucy wasn’t around to be caught in the middle.  The last one… she’d almost been burned.

But Ignia simply bellows a guttural laugh and sends another blast of fire at Natsu in response.

The slayer dodges stream after stream of fire sent his way, lobbing blasts of his own the few chances he gets.  Ignia keeps up the volley at breakneck speed causing Natsu to endure a few near misses and a couple of singes.  Oh, this is ridiculous!  What kind of game was Ignia playing with him?!

As soon as Ignia pauses to change his flight pattern, Natsu takes advantage and lights up his feet.  He rockets himself toward his brother, sending his own crackling of flames to overwhelm Ignia long enough to compromise the dragon’s vision.  Then he uses a flame whip to lasso its neck.  Ignia thrashes at the binding, but it’s too late.  It gave Natsu just enough time to pull himself up and grab on to his brothers back, gripping tightly to the scales.  “Dad… and.. uncle Atlas… would be… so.. pissed… at you!”  He scoots up slowly, inching his way to the base of the dragon’s neck.

His brother bucks harder to get him off, free diving and suddenly banking one way or the other, doing anything and everything to throw Natsu off him.  “Fuck them, as if I care!”  He growls. “They did nothing for me and now they’re all dead!”

That pisses Natsu off!  How dare Ignia speak ill of their family!  “And you tarnish all they fought for by fighting me!  Spare me your sob story, I will not let you talk badly about Igneel like that, you selfish asshole!”  He lobs a ball of fire at Ignia’s head.  “Or Atlas!”  Another ball.  “Even he recognized me as Igneel’s son!”

Several more blasts are levied at Ignia’s head.  From this close proximity, the dragon can’t strain his neck far enough to retaliate or get a good hit on his brother, instead taking each one.  His skin may be immune to fire, but it’s effectively irritating.  There’s only one way he can think of to attack back.

He flames up his entire body.

At first Natsu’s screams pierce the dragon’s ears and he grins wide, assuming his brother still couldn’t handle his flames.  Several seconds tick on, but something changes.  Natsu’s screams die out.  Did he kill his brother?  That brings a wider-brimmed smile to his snout.  He grins and cranes his neck as far as it could go, but the sight that greets him quickly sullies his demeanor.

“It won’t work on me anymore… brother.”  Natsu’s own grin brings a great roar from Ignia.  The dragon bucks, but this time Natsu stands firm, holding tight to his flame whip now blue in color.  The slayer was covered in his brothers flames from head to toe!  The initial flame on had surprised him, hence the scream, but Natsu was able to slurp it up and take it in.

“You’ve learned to control it?!”  Ignia screams.  “I am a dragon god!  How can a mere human handle my flame?!”

Their last fight had hardened Natsu’s resolve to beat his brother once and for all.  It wasn’t a matter of choice, he needed to gain control over the flames to protect his loved ones.  Ignia didn’t need to know all the pain he’d endured to master this ability, but he will see the results.    

The longer he continues to soak up his brother’s flames, the more changes morph along his body.  Scales over his extremities and around his face.  Sharper claw-like nails and elongated canines.  Leathery wings with horn spiked joints and finally, serpentine pupils.  He was still humanoid, a hybrid of both worlds.  “Because I am no mere human.”  Natsu’s voice is low and full of pride.  “I’m a demon and the son of the Fire Dragon King!  For the sake of our father’s honor, I do not wish to fight you, but I will if you continue to threaten me or those I love!”

Ignia wanted to defeat his brother, but he wasn’t a fool either.  He could sense the gathering strength flowing through Natsu and the threat was not baseless.  This slayer or whatever he was, was not only on par with him power for power, but possibly even more so.  There was a strange feeling to Natsu’s energy…  ‘Tch, it’s that stupid love shit again!’  Ignia vaguely remembers his brother spouting nonsense about strength from family, friends, or something like that.  

“Well, brother?” Natsu narrows his eyes and concentrates his flames towards his hands, pooling, and growing balls of fire around them.  “Fight or live?”

“You’re bluff!”

Before Ignia finishes his retort, Natsu sends one ball, hitting his brother in the eye.  His fire, combined with his brothers explodes like white-hot shrapnel, burning through scale.  If Ignia hadn’t closed his eye soon enough, he would have been blinded.  

The dragon shrieks in pain, tossing his head from side to side to shake off the burning sensation.  It was unbelievable to Ignia that any fire could burn a fire dragon!  And one from this damn slayer!    

“I’ve come a long way,” Natsu reiterates, “there is nothing I won’t endure to protect.”

“Get off of me!” Ignia screams.  “Alright!  I’ll leave and go back to Guiltina!”

Natsu takes flight, hovering above and to the side of his brother.  “Don’t come back to Fiore, Ignia or I will not hold back!  I will slay you as we were originally conscripted to do!”  

The dragon blows out a puff of steam and without another word takes off towards the clouds.  Whether Ignia keeps his word or not will remain unseen, but for now, it was over.  Natsu looks down at the area he was sleeping in and remembers that his bedroll and backpack were destroyed, leaving him nothing to rest on.  He groans.  It was still a few hours till dawn, but with the wings, he could make it back to his cottage by morning.  He didn’t like staying in this form for so long because it drained his energy, but it might be better than sleeping on the hard ground.  ‘I’ll just sleep when I get home…’

It was a loud banging on his front door that rouses Natsu from another dead sleep.  “Come… coming…” He stumbles off the couch, wiping at the crusted drool on his cheek and chin.  His body ached all over, not painful, just sore, like every muscle was on strike and his vision was foggy.  His side bumps into the counter while trying to steady his wobbling gait.  “Oww!” Natsu grabs his side.  He looks down at where the pain was coming from and sees a large healing burn.  It was only then that his mind snaps together enough to focus and starts to inspect the rest of his body.  The burn was the worst injury he could see, but his top and vest were ripped or torn and barely hanging on his body, pants singed and tattered in a couple areas.    

Another loud bang on the door followed by a woman’s voice.  “Natsu?!  Are you in there?!!”  “He was supposed to be back by now,” the woman speaks in a lower tone as if turned away to another person.

Natsu shakes his head, even his hearing was fogged up, and his sense of smell.  That fight, nay, the transformation and holding it for hours is what zapped his reserves.  He could barely remember making it home.  The voice sure sounded like Lucy’s.  

Now a male voice.  “Are you sure?  Maybe the job ran late.”  

“But tomorrow is Christmas,” the woman replies, “he promised to be home by then.”

Wait a minute!  Natsu whips his head towards the door.  “Christmas?” he mumbles.  That means he’s been asleep for 3 days!  “Christmas?!”  He pushes away from the counter, trips over his own feet, but manages to grab hold of the doorknob, yanking it open.  “Lucy?!”

“Natsu?!”  She rushes up, throwing herself into his body, wrapping her arms tightly around him.  “Where the hell have you been?!  I’ve been so worried!”

“I…”

She pushes off to take a better look.  Immediately, Lucy’s joy at seeing her partner turns to a new range of emotions, going from happiness to sadness to anger in the span of nanoseconds.  “Oh, my Mavis!  What the hell happened to you?!!”

“Aannd, this is where I take my leave,” Gray takes a few steps back.  Natsu was confirmed alive, but now was in another level of trouble.  “See ya guys later.”  He makes a swift exit, leaving the rest to Lucy to deal with.  A lover’s quarrel was not something he was going to get in the middle of.

“Was it the mission?  Did something go wrong?  Who did this to you?!”  Lucy fires question after question in rapid succession, matching the speed at which her mind was flying in that moment.  Natsu was a total mess.  His singed and torn clothing was one thing but the large wound on his side was of a bigger concern.  She should run to get Wendy, but first, demanded answers!  Just as Lucy was about to lay into him with more questions, Natsu swoons on his feet.  His legs were buckling from exhaustion.  Lucy swings his arm over her shoulder to steady him and drags him back to his couch.  She brings him a glass of water, then when he finishes the drink, kneels in front of him.

Lucy takes a deep breath.  She was furious over being worried half to death but knew a fight wouldn’t accomplish anything.  Instead she places her hand upon his knee, looks up, and in a softened tone, “Spill it Natsu.  Tell me what happened.”

So, he does, starting from when Ignia attacked to flying all the way home after the fight, leaving out no details.  “I barely remember getting home or even passing out on the couch three days ago.  The dragon mode took a toll on my body.  I’m so sorry Luce, I never meant to worry you!  All I had wanted to do was…”  Natsu’s eyes widen, the gift!  He’d forgotten all about it!  Did it survive the flames?!  He reaches into his pocket and pulls the small box out.  Its packaging seemed okay, but as he opens it, Natsu’s heart sinks.  The metal ring of the band was melted and warped.  “Fuck!” He closes the cover and lifts his arm to throw it.

“Wait!” Lucy stops him, grabbing his arm and reaching for the box.  “Don’t!  What is that?”

“It was your Christmas gift,” Natsu’s head sinks, and his eyes fall to the floor.  “But it’s ruined.”

She was still trying to process the fight with Ignia and now this gift added another element to the mix.  Lucy wasn’t sure if she should be upset, or just happy that he’d become so powerful, because that growth had saved his life.  How about both?  “Next time Natsu, when there’s something important like this, you should talk to me about it.  I shouldn’t have to find out by surprise that you had trained to wield his fire or that you can control your dragon form.”

“I know…” he sighs.

Lucy sighs too, squeezing his knee.  “I’m annoyed… but I’m also excited that you’re home now and safe.”  She smiles, “I’ll help you get cleaned up, and go get Wendy to heal your wound, okay?”

“Gah!  I feel so bad, I don’t even have a Christmas gift for you now.”

She chuckles and waves her hand, “I don’t need a gift.  It’s the thought that counts, and besides, maybe it’s still repairable.”

Natsu grabs her hand, “it’s not… just a ring.  Lucy, I…. I was planning on proposing to you tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?”  Lucy pauses in shock, but quickly regains her thought process.  She starts to laugh, bringing a look of confusion to Natsu’s face, like his girlfriend has just lost her mind.  “I’m sorry for laughing,” she chuckles again, “Natsu a ring isn’t important.”  Her eyes crinkle in a smile.  “If you want to ask me, then just ask me.  You can fix the ring later if you still want to.”

“Really?!” That brings a wide-brimmed smile back to Natsu’s face.  “Wait,” he tilts his head, “is this a trick question?”  

That sends Lucy into another round of hysterics.  “No!” she laughs, “I’m serious!”

He pouts, “but I wanted to do the whole show, get down on one knee and stuff like they do in your books.”

Lucy smiles from his cute gesture and caresses his cheek, “then I shall wait as well to say yes…”

[void-tiger]

Shirotember (Belatedly) Days 5-7:

The Chosen, the Astral Plane, and the Black Lion

He knew better.

Shiro honestly did. But outside of running drills with his Team, and forming Voltron in combat he just...never made it down to the Black Lion’s hangar. Shiro told himself that’d it was because there was just so much to do—nearly two decaphoebs of backlogged data to consume. Crash courses in diplomacy and getting formerly integrated into the cogs of the coolition (and a lot of damage control dealing with there being “two of him”.

(Slav in particular had been gleeful about the “second robot arm” and kept bombarding both him and Jiro with new arm designs, each more outrageous than the last, complete with blue fingers and probabilities about how the designs would increase their success and survival (but never higher than 48%, apparently, with pages of things “statistically uncovered”. The reports all read like some beta-tested drug commercial, and Shiro’d had enough of those to last him a lifetime. Well, two. The temptation to simply delete each new schematic sent in was often overwhelming...but he and his twin technically needed new prosthetics and possibly multiple ones, so he forwarded Slav’s latest designs to the Holt Siblings, Hunk, or the Alteans, instead. Well until the day Matt begged him to stop and that most just got shoved into a file Voltron’s Tech Team hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet, which was more than okay for a relieved Shiro. Matt quickly helped him set up a program specific to Slav’s messages that’d automatically delete anything “robot arm related” as chaff...which just left the rest of Slav’s equally dense and frequent reports. Fantastic.)

...and any spare time Shiro found himself with desperately trying to make up for lost time with his friends, and actually being more open with his affection for them and his own insecurities. (It helped that aside from Pidge none of them were really teens anymore, but being indirectly responsible for bringing them into a war that caused them to grow up too soon, too fast still weighed heavily on him. Even if technically it was their Lions?) But all of that—while lessening the strain, especially since he could share the burden of leadership with both Allura and Jiro now—still felt more like getting flayed alive all over again, less like emerging from a chrysalis or shedding a snake’s old and too-tight skin. Especially since the Arena and Haggar didn’t create these habits, just welded them down tight, while Adam and the Garrison had actively forged them.

(Sam’s mentorship had helped, as had the Black Lion and his Team giving him purpose again. But getting locked inside a damaged Black for two years without anyone able to hear him except a desperate clone who mistook Shiro as yet one more of their shared demons for half of it... Shiro didn’t know if that guilt would ever ease.)

So, really. Shiro did know better, but he was too busy being a Paladin to...actually be a Paladin.

Coward, snarked his subconscious, which sounded suspiciously like Jiro calling him out on his learned bullshit yet again. “But not like he’s any better about this,” Shiro muttered. “Hypocrite.”

Yeah, but he learned that from you, Shirogane.

Shiro pinched his eyes shut as he let his forehead thump against the Black Lion’s hangar door. Since he’d been extracted from the Lion’s quintessence and places back inside his own body of reassembled atoms, their Bond felt muted, but not exactly weak. More like...restrained. Like the Black Lion was trying to give Shiro the space he kept subconsciously taking by accident. Occasionally gentle affection or harrowing grief and shame would filter through their Bond before quickly fading away into wisps of mist scattered in the wind. Shiro tried his best to send the Lion his reassurance and forgiveness...but he just couldn’t make himself visit. It all still felt too raw, more so than when Black spat him out so long ago in what he now knew was her attempt to keep him from getting recaptured by their shared tormentors, too.

He knew he needed to see the Lion, without being prompted by training or missions or an active attack. But...

He continued to stare at the door. Willed himself to move. “Coward,” he hissed again, this time aloud.

Footsteps echoed at the opposite end of the corridor. Shiro fought the urge to turn around. The steps grew closer, and he recognized that gait as his brother’s. Same long strides, same intentionality as his, but slightly heavier in the footfalls, like someone not quite accustomed to their growing frame yet, or hadn’t quite mastered the art of Presentation and still had small tells giving them away if you knew where to look. (Or perhaps someone who cared a bit less than Shiro learned to habitually even before his time at the Garrison.)

“You win yet?” Jiro drawled casually.

“Hmm?”

“Your staring contest with that door,” Jiro elaborated. “Think my score’s 3:9, Door’s Favor.”

Shiro winced internally. Jiro rarely spoke about the time he spent grounded, and then when he did, it always came out as a subconscious slip in the form of a joke. He never knew whether to call his brother on it or not. Not like Shiro had much room to talk, especially about stuff Champion-related...

“I’m just being an idiot,” Shiro finally said, single hand clench-fisted, head still leaning heavily against the door with his eyes mostly shut.

“‘Course you are,” Jiro quipped, laying his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “You’re my brother.” Then shoved Shiro through the now-opening door.

“H-HEY!” Shiro squawked. Jiro simply laughed. The bastard.

The door hissed closed behind them. The Black Lion loomed above them. Shiro felt his mouth go dry, felt the ground tilt as the edges of his vision blurred and the light glinted off Black’s hull felt too bright! and—

A hand rested on his shoulder and a dark shape obscures his vision, blocking the Black Lion from view. He flinched, and a strangled gasp clawed its way out of his chest and throat.

“Takashi. Breathe,” Jiro murmured.

Much like he had the first time Shiro entered Black’s hangar when the witch bombarded the Castle after he first got pulled out of the Void. And how before that Jiro had practically shoved the black bayard into his hand and Shiro into the Black Paladin’s elevator, and said-bayard transforming into an Arm at the sight of the imposing zip line in response to his immediate need.

Shiro willed himself not to cry as Jiro’s arm snaked around his shoulders and pulled him close. He focused his breathing to time with Jiro’s steadier heartbeat, then worked on getting it to slow once he could get his lungs to simply work again. In. Hold. Release. Rinse and repeat. Blink away the itch. Relax. Don’t lose it in front of Black. Be the Black Paladin, dammit.

“I’m sorry,” Jiro murmured. Shiro felt his twin’s deep voice rumble more than he actually heard it as, despite himself, he still continued to lean into his clone’s chest. Weak. Pathetic.

“I shouldn’t have forced you in here. Just...I want you two to work it out,” Jiro admitted. “And thought that you only needed a helping hand, and—“

Shiro hummed weakly as he tried to chuckle at the unintended pun. But his body refused and even his brain didn’t quite cooperate. Right. Since when did his brain work with him, anyway? He snorted darkly despite himself at that.

“...what?” Jiro demanded in bemusement.

“Hand,” Shiro lied.

Jiro groaned in exasperation as he playfully shoved his brother away. “You’re terrible.”

Shiro grinned wider as he laughed a bit fuller at his twin’s expense. Let him think it was because of a bad pun. Technically it was...sorta.

He felt Black growl lightly and whap his head with a tail through their bond. Shiro gently shoved it away. Black sent the equivalent of meekly ducking under away from his hand, all wisping mist. A flash of guilt and panic as he tried to reopen their Bond. Black purred dejectedly but then fell eerily silent.

Shiro felt his face drain of color. ‘Black? ...I’m sorry. I know I’m not being fair. Please...I’ll do better. Get over it, press on. Please...’

His forehead tingled with a Lion’s Kiss but the Bond fell silent.

“...’Kashi? Hey, You still with me? C’mon...”

“Mmm?” Shiro blinked blearily.

“...goddammit, Shiro. Don’t do that,” Jiro huffed in relief.

“I think...I just broke my bond,” Shiro choked out.

“What? No. No I don’t believe that,” Jiro denied vehemently. “Not for one second!”

“I can’t even bare to be down here!” Shiro shot back heatedly. “Or form Voltron—“

“Quiznack, Shiro! You’d died! You’re allowed to process that!” Jiro snapped in exasperation. “But...dammit the Lion somehow saved you from that, too!”

“I know that!”

Jiro shook his head wearily. “...do you, though? Look, Tak, I’m leaving. I’ve been interfering with this Bond for long enough. Black chose you. Just...you’ll figure it out, alright? Be glad that you’re actually a Paladin.”

Jiro turned to stalk away—

—only to bounce off the inside of a particle barrier while the Black Lion roared with pent-up rage.

“What—“ Jiro exclaimed. “—the HELL! Let me out, Cat! You have him back. Leave me alone!”

Shiro tried desperately to ignore the sick, twisted head that reared inside him like a dark parasite when the Lion growled stubbornly at his twin. He grit his teeth and shoved it back down. He didn’t exactly have any place to feel jealous when he was pretty sure he’d just fucked things up for good this time. Again.

Then his head ached with what felt like the full weight of a small bull elephant as Black roared again, tail lashing against the barrier in a spray of sparks. “But I can’t even stand—not—“ Shiro stammered in frustration.

Black reared onto her haunches then brought down full-force onto the floor with a deafening boom that knocked both him and his brother, roaring point-blank at both of them again, maw opening into a glow of white, and—

—he fell face-first into glass.

Shiro groaned as he pushed himself back onto his feet, catching Ryou doing the same in the corner of his eye, then froze.

No.

He never wanted to be back here. Not again. Ice chilled his veins as he felt that all-too-familiar Just Not Warm and surrounded by nothing but the dark of the Void and stars and—

...And the stars were different. This wasn’t the Black Lion’s quintessence, but it wasn’t the strange static rush he’d experienced briefly within Voltron’s combined quintessence, either.

So...what was it.

Shiro exhaled through his nose as he calmed—barely—and tried to take stock of his surroundings. Beside him he could feel his twin do the same as he blinked in curious confusion, Jiro’s mind briefly brushing against his much like the other Paladins and Lions did when they formed Voltron.

The sky swirled in shades of deep violet, indigo and blue as stars of white and gold streaked with glittering grey comet tails traveled the great expanse overhead, and bands of green and red flares drifted in retrograde of eachother. Jiro’s mouth made a silent “o” as the site reflected in his slate-grey eyes.

And Shiro understood. Really.

He might’ve felt the same about the Black Lion’s own space, once. Maybe he actually could someday once it felt free from the taint Zarkon’s intrusion and his forced exile there that poisoned it. He felt Jiro’s concern brush against his apprehension before he could shutter it away, and Shiro couldn’t help but hate himself for spoiling this for his twin, only to be met with said-twin’s exasperated anger.

Couldn’t he exist somewhere where everyone wasn’t an empath?! Just once?

“Taks. Just breathe,” Jiro called.

Shiro snorted. “There’s no atmosphere, Ryou. You don’t need to breathe.”

“Fair,” Jiro conceded tersely. “So where do you think ‘here’ is.”

“No idea. But it isn’t the Black Lion.”

“Gathered that much myself, thanks,” Jiro drawled. “Been there a few times to fetch your ass, remember?”

Shiro nodded absently. Jiro cast him a strange look that verged on...Shiro couldn’t quite place it. Too clouded and dense, but nothing good, and he was pretty sure he was about to have it from his clone. “It feels like Voltron,” Jiro said instead. “Only more...”

“Intense?” Shiro finished instead.

“Yeah. That.”

“Only Paladins form Voltron,” Shiro said mildly.

“Oh shut up,” Jiro snapped. “And how long were you going to wait to tell me that you remembered what happened in the Astral Plane? ALL of it?”

Shiro fell silent.

“You ass,” Jiro seethed. “You knew. You knew all along!”

“No,” Shiro interjected quickly. “...not until after I flew again with Black.”

Jiro laughed derisively. “So only for most of it. And to think I didn’t want to judge you for something you couldn’t even remember to the point it might as well have been just another fucked up nightmare or vision!”

“...I’m sorry. I just...I wanted to forget,” Shiro whispered tightly.

“Right,” Jiro snarled “Because you always get to and then carry on, while I have to deal with memories that aren’t even mine.”

“And that’s my fault?” Shiro demanded.

“You said I couldn’t be a Paladin!”

“And you seemed happy enough to have my life!”

A feral scream tore out of Jiro’s throat. The empty space at the clone’s side flashed grey-lavender until it was vaguely arm-shaped, and he swung it at Shiro as he advanced forward.

Shiro caught his advance with his own flesh arm and one apparently formed from glowing indigo quintessence, and used Jiro’s momentum to bodily hurl him. Jiro twisted in midair and dug his heels into the glass-like ground to break his momentum, then rushed forward again, grey coma streaming from his eyes and nose.

Tears. Those are tears, Shirogane. Congratulations.

The fight drained from Shiro, and he sidestepped Jiro’s next blind swing.

“Fight back, damn you!” Jiro snarled. “What’s the matter, Champion? Forget how to do that, too?”

Shiro’s vision flashed white and red.

He batted away and pinned Jiro’s quintessence-arm against the clone’s side with one hand, then grabbed a fistful of his brother’s shirt with the other, and kicked Jiro’s feet out from underneath him before the clone could even react. They crashed to the ground. Jiro gasped reflexively as the impact forced the wind out of his lungs and Shiro continued to pin him against the ground.

“Gerroff!!”

“ENOUGH!”

Jiro went slack, although Shiro could still feel his mind smoldering next to his. Still, he was weary of this, so he released his hold on Jiro’s arm, as both their quintessence “arms” fizzled out, apparently. Jiro roughly shoved him off the rest of the way.

“Asshole,” Jiro sniffed thickly.

“Fair.”

“...shut up.”

The stars continued to swirl peacefully above them despite the tense silence below. Shiro thought about resting his hand on Jiro’s shoulder, to do something to somehow Fix This and ease the churning guilt inside him...but his brother’s mind remained sharp ice and bubbling cryovolcanoes. But Jiro didn’t move away, either.

Shiro oofed in shock when Jiro thumped his head against his right shoulder roughly. Which, technically a quintessence apparition right now or not, that still hurt. But, he kinda deserved it and it at least proved that whatever Laws this place followed were closer to his fight with Zarkon than...the two years bodiless he spent trapped in the Void. Hesitantly he shifted until he could embrace Jiro with his left arm instead.

“...Why?” Shiro whispered.

“Because yes I’m mad at you but somebody’s gotta stick around to get through your thick skull that that doesn’t mean we’re leaving.

“...and I wanted to be a Paladin. So badly that it still hurts. But I wasn’t ever chosen. At best all I could do was make a poor substitute while I kept your seat warm. And I didn’t know, alright? I tried everything to get Keith to stay. And the second I did, I...”

Shiro pulled him closer. “I know. I could hear you the whole time. I know you tried.”

“Then...why do you hate me?”

“...I don’t.”

Jiro scoffed.

“No, listen. Please.”

Jiro went rigid, but his ear faced Shiro. Shiro exhaled a silent sigh. That’d have to do. “I...don’t think I ever did. I definitely don’t now. But...all I could do was wait in the dark, desperate for someone to hear me. No one ever did. Black’s inner quintessence was kinda a wreck, and it looked and felt more like getting shut in a basement closet than...

“But then I think the Team must have healed Black somewhat when they tried finding a new Paladin...not that I knew that at the time. Just that I could hear them and finally see something. But I couldn’t—“

Jiro reached around and grabbed Shiro’s hand, squeezing it gently. Shiro squeezed his eyes shut, his guilt and shame becoming more than just a constant ache or shroud, threatening to choke him under its weight.

“My bonds weren’t strong enough. None of them could hear me. And then Black found you.”

“The Lion still preferred Keith,” Jiro pointed out. “I thought I’d been left. And...at any point I’d almost died, and wasn’t ever found until I thought I was drawing my last breath. I chased Voltron for a week! And then...she...didn’t want me.”

“No. That was me,” Shiro admitted in a tight whisper.

An incredulous look crossed Jiro’s face, closely followed by relief and betrayal. “...what.”

Shiro exhaled a shaky sigh. Quiznack his timing sucked. But if they were stuck in here... “The Black Lion...she...she wanted to connect with you. But I... and then you left. And didn’t come back. But then...”

“The Team was about to die,” Jiro murmured.

Shiro nodded jerkily. “It didn’t matter how I felt. I could hear you pleading to save them, and feel Black’s distress, but it was like you two couldn’t quite reach. Your quintessence was...” Shiro paused, searching for words as he gestures vaguely. “...pale. Half there. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I always thought Black was the one pulling my slack. But...that was you?”

“The universe needed Voltron. And our Team needed a Black Paladin.”

“Then I never actually formed Voltron with them. I never was a Paladin, afterall,” Jiro laughed humorlessly. “No wonder I couldn’t get to that place Lance was talking about.”

“NO,” Shiro repeated firmly. “Black let you inside to try. I was the one throwing a fit which...I guess you noticed that.”

Jiro snorted. “Seemed more like my demons in Sendak’s voice. And they had Keith. Black didn’t need me.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong,” Shiro said wryly. “Might as well been one of them for being all but a clanging poltergeist doing nobody any good.”

“...but I still never formed Voltron,” Jiro repeated softly. “I couldn’t even be Black’s battery.”

“Hey, stop that,” Shiro admonished gently. “You kinda had a parasitic space witch leeching you dry.”

“So did you,”Jiro replied morosely. “But you managed it.”

Shiro shook his head. “Ulaz got me out before she could turn them into anything more than a recording webcam. And your quintessence is strong, now.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah,” Shiro grinned. “And it’s different than mine. So I think...you could actually form Voltron now. No assists needed.”

Jiro shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, now. You’re Black’s Paladin, and now you’re back. I meant it when I said I was done messing with your bond. I wouldn’t have, if...”

Shiro squeezed Jiro’s hand gently. “I know. But, are they even my Team?”

Jiro stared at him blankly in bemusement. “Of course they are. You’re the Black Paladin.”

“Except I only flew with them for maybe two months. You knew them for two years. If Haggar hadn’t been leeching your quintessence, you could’ve formed Voltron,” Shiro pointed out. “And I almost couldn’t. I don’t know them anymore. I barely did before.”

“Quiznack, Shiro. You’ve been working on that. And good god nobody is about to hold being functionally dead against you, either,” Jiro exclaimed in exasperation.

“But...they need a Black Paladin now,” he said weakly.

“Which you are when it counts. And a damn good one,” Jiro said pointedly.

Shiro opened his mouth to argue the point but closed it again. Jiro would only stubbornly argue his point further, Shiro’s guilt wouldn’t ease, and they’ve be back to arguing circles and he was just so tired. And wherever they were, he couldn’t feel his Lion, only Jiro...which he supposed made sense ‘cause he was pretty sure he felt their Bond snap back in the hangar, and it was all his fault.

“Shiro,” Jiro interjected into his thoughts. “Let me ask you something, and answer honestly.”

“Okay...” Shiro drawled apprehensively.

“Do you even want to be a Paladin?”

“I—“

“Don’t go into shoulds or shouldn’ts or what’s better or not!” Jiro interrupted.

Shiro bowed his head until it rested on his knees, and his left arm wrapped around his abdomen on reflex. His shoulders shook as the guilt became so overpowering that it squeezed out everything else. “...yes,” he choked out. “I still want to be a Paladin. I want to fly with Black, but—“

“Say it again,” Jiro urged gently.

Shiro swallowed thickly. Balled his fist. “I want to stay a Paladin.” He exhaled a breath. “But it’s going to take some time. But I will be ready.” He rose to his feet and raised his chin, his eyes feeling clearer than they had in movements.

The sky shifted as something moved through it, displacing the stars in its wake. Shiro’s eyes widened in wonder as a Lion took form, her pelt glittering with stars as her fur glowed ultraviolet in the absence of light. The Lion purred gently and unfurled her wings pulsating with a sun’s heart as she padded toward them. Shiro felt his feet carrying him towards the Lion of their own accord. The Lion bunted under his hand in response, brushing her cheek against him. “Hi, Black,” he murmured.

The Lion draped her tail over his arm, trailing it behind her as she paced over to Jiro. “What? What are you doing. I’m not—“

The Lion whapped the clone with her tail with enough force to cause him to stumble, then gently licked the side of his head. “Okay, okay. But you better not get any gamma rays on me.”

The Lion growled at that.

“But seriously. I’m not your Paladin,” he repeated firmly.

The Lion stared at him unamused, huffed, then shoved him from behind until he was forced to walk to keep from falling.

“You...want me to go on.”

Black flicked her tail as she sat back on her haunches. “...Okay. Guess I’m going?” Jiro called uncertainly.

“I dunno what she wants you to see, Ry, but she’s being very insistent about it,” Shiro smirked. “Better go see.”

“Fat lot of help you are,” Jiro grumbled. But he walked on, back towards the point of sky where the Black Lion emerged. Shiro watched his brother’s retreating form, how he tried to keep his shoulders back and spine straight even as they hunched slightly towards his ears as Jiro walked on alone...then vanished in a flash of watery grey.

“Ry!”

The Lion purred gently, draping a wing over him as she planted a kiss to his forehead, licking reflexively as she got a mouth full of his bangs. “You’re...saying he’s fine. Okay. I trust you.”

The Lion stared into his eyes, blinked slowly, then rubbed against him again, her back arching and tail flopped over until it coiled slightly. The Lion padded a few spaces ahead of him, glanced above and over her shoulder, then chirped expectantly.

Shiro followed.

The word behind him faded in a flash of violet.

.

Shiro’s eyes protested at the sudden light when he opened them within the Black Lion while sitting in the pilot’s seat. Gently he rubbed the levers. “Thank you. I’m sorry I doubted myself...and you.”

The Lion hummed telepathically through their bond sending a wave of fondness and relief. Shiro wasn’t sure whose it was. Perhaps them both.

A wet nose pressed at him through the link.

“Okay!” Shiro laughed. “And I’ll stop hiding things from you, too. Especially you. But...it’s still going to be some time before I’m ready to go back there. If ever. I’m sorry. I...I just can’t.”

Grief and shame, but also acceptance trickled through. No mist. “Guess that means you, too.”

“We’ll fly again. I won’t ever lock your wings,” Shiro promised. “But...I look forward us doing so at our own pace, though.”

The Lion rumbled her understanding, them fell silent. “Yeah, me too,” he admitted.

Jiro stared blankly while leaning against the interior of the Black Lion’s hull when Shiro finally left the cockpit. “Ry?”

“I’m...I’m a Paladin. I actually have a Lion,” Jiro breathed. “I met him, after Black shooed me away.”

A grin spread across Shiro’s face. “Ryou, that’s fantastic. Which one was he? What’s he look like?”

Jiro shook his head, smiling softly. “I don’t know. Not one of ours. I’m not even sure he’s been made yet—he might be from yet another comet we haven’t found yet. But...I have a Lion, Shiro!”

Shiro slung his arm around Jiro’s shoulders. “Looks like you’re still a Paladin,” he said smugly.

Jiro swatted him off playfully. “Joke all you want. But I was right about you still being Black’s favorite.”

“Yeah, you were,” he admitted.

And this time Shiro knew for certain that he chose her, too.

[icefir-windbreaker]

All-Stars -Story Mode- [CHAPTER 3]

I thought I put the third chapter before Day 45 is over, this day had been quite inspiring thanks to the people I had tagged and re-edited the forth chapter. So give @gulliblepineapples and @sampoststuff a lot of thanks. 🤭 I hope you guys won’t mind if I had put your ideas in the story. Still, I’ll do Day 46 when the clock strikes 12. So, be expecting it later. I hope you guys enjoy.

[EDITED]

                                                       -Chapter 3-

Frisk found themself not been able to control their body and gotten scared once they realized they had also a knife in their hands and it was stained in crimson liquid, they knew it was the blood of their victims as they reached the hallway that is colored with gold and orange.

They had reached the SAVE file and saved the progress as they looked at it in horror.

                         [Chara, Level 19 HP 92/92, Judgement Hall]                                                        1 left…

Frisk fought for control as the entity that’s doing this then processed to through the hallway like it knew this was going to happened. Frisk walked until a figure stepped in, a short skeleton in unzipped blue hoodie with white t-shirt/sweater along with the black shorts with white stripes and had a pair of sneakers/slippers. He had appeared out of nowhere like a ghost but Frisk knew is going to happen next.

‘’Heya… you’ve been busy, huh?’’ the skeleton began, Frisk was shaking with the thought of needed to wake up before they could get into a battle with Sans.

‘’So, i’ve gotten a question for ya. Do you think even the worse person can change? And anyone can be a good person if they just try?’’ Sans asked to the fallen human, whom took a step forward towards him, making him laugh at this threat.

‘’Hehe… okay, i’ve gotten a better question for ya: wanna have a bad time? Because if you take another step forward, you really not gonna like what happens next…’’ He threaten with his eye sockets black as the dark.

Frisk struggled to not to go forward but, a demon in them… made them take another step forward towards Sans, crossing the line.

‘’Welp… sorry old lady, this is why i never make promises…’’ Sans said everything around them had turned white and black as the colors fade away, Sans, had always been a skeleton, keep a grin on his face.

In these words he spoke ‘’It’s a beautiful day outside... birds are singing… flowers are blooming… on days like these, kids like you…’’ then raised his left hand as his eye had cyan-yellow pupil and glowed with wraith of justice after patience had drained from it as he finished this sentence of the previous.

                 ‘’S H O U L D   B E   B U R N I N G   I N   H E L L .’’

Then the human felt gravity betrayed them as they flew up to the ceiling and down to the floor then to the walls as they avoided the bones.

Frisk struggled, begged, pleaded or anything they could but the demon, _ _ _ _ _ was thrilled, they truly loved every time they both died and reset to fight Sans, each time he dodges their attacks. Oh! How they wished this moment could last forever.

Sans was getting tired after dodging so, he had to hold the human down to the floor with his magic gripping tight on their soul. But he gotten so tired, he fell asleep and allowed the human to attack but the skeleton suddenly woke and dodged it on time.

‘’Did you really think you really could-’’ Sans asked but he was interrupted by a sudden attack from _ _ _ _ _ themself, Sans was slashed across the chest and blood begins to bleed out as he held the fatal wound.

‘’So…’’ he spoke with his final breathes ripping out, ‘’i guess this is it? Huh? Just didn’t say i didn’t warn you…’’

_ _ _ _ _ was expected more from him but Sans stood up and walked away with a limp as he said ‘’Welp… i’m heading for Gribbly’s… Papyrus? Do you want anything?’’

Frisk, in pure sorrow, screamed as Sans is reduced to nothing but dust…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frisk was jolted awake from the nightmare by Cuphead shaking them to wake them, Frisk looked around and realized their still in the bunker, then… they cried as Cuphead looked at them with confused painted on his face.

‘’F-frisk? Are you alright? It looked you just fought a demon in you.’’ Cuphead said to Frisk then suddenly been pulled into a hug by the human. ‘’Frisk… You had a nightmare?’’ Cuphead asked, Frisk nodded as Cuphead hugged back ‘’I… I can tell that it’s not a pretty one…’’ he said, comforting the human child.

‘’Cups? Frisk?’’ Mugman said as he enters the room after he heard the crying, ‘Is everything alright? I heard crying.’’ he said as Frisk continued crying while Cuphead turned his head towards his brother.

‘’Frisk had a nightmare, I am not sure what it was but I can tell it’s not a very good kind.’’ Cuphead explained, Mugman looked at them and said ‘’I never thought they would have one. Specially with a very bad one.’’

‘’I know Mugs,’’ Cuphead said ‘’Is Boris making breakfast yet?’’

‘’I guess he is making it right now, Bendy said that he can help him with that.’’ Mugman spoke, ‘’As long if Bendy doesn’t destroy anything while doing it.’’

‘’Well, can you least tell us what that nightmare is all about Frisk, we can keep it a secret, we can promised that.’’ Cuphead asked, but Frisk just shook their head.

The two brothers looked at each other as Frisk continued crying their eyes out then back at Frisk, Cuphead comforting Frisk a little longer as he said ‘’If you don’t want to talk about, then it’s alright to not talk about. Okay? How about breakfast first?’’

Frisk nods to the thought of eating breakfast first, but first they gently pushed Cuphead away and rubs their eyes to pull themself together after that moment.

Mugman smiled warmly as Frisk pulled themself back together and Cuphead gently smacked them on the back as they climbed down from the top bunk and into the living room, the smell of bacon and eggs filled the air for the trio to smell it with their tongues licked their lips.

At the wooden wire spool table is Bendy placing forks and knives on the tables as he sings a song as he felt it was related to him somehow, he sung the verse he liked.

‘’I am alive, Immortalized. You're the creator, you traitor. Hey! There's no vaccine to cure your dirty needs, for now you must build up our machine. You die tonight!~’’

Frisk walked to Bendy with curiosity in their heart as Bendy finished up setting things up, Bendy brushes his gloved hands off and stop to admire his work when he felt a tap on his shoulder. ‘’Hmm?’’ He murmured as he turned around and sees Frisk standing behind him.

Bendy smiled and he said ‘’Hey Frisk! Morning, I just finished setting the forks and knives on the table. You are welcomed to wait for breakfast if you like.’’

>[What song were you singing?]                                                       [Okay then.]

                                >[What song were you singing?]<

‘’That song?’’ Bendy said ‘’I am not sure but I think that the title of it is ‘’Build Our Machine’’ sung by someone named Will Ryan or other. I just think it’s catchy for me, ya think?’’

>[I think it suits you well.]                                      [Good luck with that then.]

                                        >[I think it suits you well]<

Bendy blushed, ‘’Awww. You think? Hehehe… Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,’’ he complimented as he walked over to his seat at the table as Frisk walked over to the chair beside him.

Cuphead and Mugman walked over and sat with Bendy and Frisk as Boris finished making the breakfast and passed out ot everyone on the table as well with his own.

They all giggled and laughed while they ate breakfast, they enjoyed their morning as they gotten ready for the day ahead to go back up to the surface. ‘’Are you sure you don’t want to come with us Bendy?’’ Cuphead asked to the Ink Demon, ‘’I am sure that we can use an extra hand with the supplies.’’

‘’Nope, I‘m sorry but someone needs to be on the other side of the door so they can opened it from the inside of the bunker.’’ Bendy answered, ‘’Well, alright, I am not going to stop you. We will be alright when he get back.’’ Cuphead explained, to winch Bendy nods.

With Boris by their side, they made it up the ladder and into the surface and back to the old abandoned elderly home. They looked outside through the boarded-up window and sees that it’s now partly cloudy as the sun poured through the clouds, they smiled as they are glad that the ray of hope is still there like they had been through a nuclear fallout and come out from that unscleathed.

But there’s no time to admire the light in the sky, they had to search for supplies then returned to the bunker. They were aware of the soldiers as well with zombies while they walked down the ruined streets of the 80-year old war torn town with Boris leading the way. Tommy gun in the wolf’s possession.

They all looked around at the surroundings, they could see cars that had nearly been rusted over, buildings remained vacant and empty of life but it does looked like it had been evacuated when a war had just started unexpectedly.

They hid behind fallen pillars, broken cars and inside of the most nearly destroyed buildings to keep out of sight of the Helghan soldiers so they can’t see them all being really there.

They had gone to the stores and looked around for anything, ‘’Is there anyone like us here?’’ Mugman asked to his brother, ‘’I’m not sure Mugs,’’ Cuphead began ‘’If there are different people that we’ve never encountered before then there’s nothing we can handle.’’

‘’And about those zombies… if they were dead and try to kill us, then I am sure we can be handle this if things go wrong.’’ Mugman said to his brother, ‘’if there are anyone trying to survive out there, we’ll find them.’’ Cuphead said as he looked around.

They were walking around for about 2 hours till they found the food and water. They were about to head back until they heard voices, thirteen voices from far, 12 of them males and one muffed by some kind of a gas mask.

They wondered on who they are and decided to check them out but with caution, they crawled down on the the dusty ground and made their way to the cliff as their viewing point.

When they got to the cliff and looked down, the two cup brothers saw the most unusual thing they had ever saw in their lives.

There are a crew of 13 men but one of them, they can’t make out if the one in the gas mask is a male or a female.

There are two Germans, one in the a leather vest with blood vials wrapped around his chest, he had green-blue eyes and dark black hair that is crown-chopped, with a cut on his cheek under his left eye and was wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a leather vest with straps that seemed too tight around his chest with one of them had vials of blood with numbers labeled on them, blackish blue pants with red lines going down to his strapped boots, he had a pouched on his side of waist with a some type of pumping device attached in it. who is talking to what appears to be a field medic but wears a doctor’s coat with medical emblem on each sleeves and wore glasses over his blue eyes and he had a strange-looking backpack-like device on his his back. They can tell they are Germans because of their language and it reminded the two brothers of Werner Werman who happened to be a literal rat.

Then there are two Russians, one had a mustache and a beard, ocean blue eyes, wearing a bulletproof chest plate and a pilot helmet with goggles while other is a giant bald man with a Bavcon, belt of bullets going across his chest and wears a red t-shirt with a vest going over it, also talking in their language.

Four more men are Americans, one of them has a brown hair, sky blue eyes and a mustache, brown jacket, t-shirt, yellowish green pants and wore gloves with weird transmission device on his wrist,

other one is a man that appears to be a soldier with a helmet nearly covering his eyes, with a red jacket with rocket emblems on each sleeves like the medic had,

same thing goes to the other one that is a Texan with the wrench emblems like the previous two, he has a construction helmet that is backwards and wears goggles that hardy revealed his eyes, wore a shirt and overalls with one glove on right hand and the last one in their group is a young man with a cap with an headset, he had sky blue eyes like the first one but unlike him, he had a backpack with a strap across his chest as he had his hands had been bandaged and had pants with socks and shoes, he had red shirt with sleeves rolled up to his shoulders and had buck teeth. He looked like a baseball player.

One of them is Asian with green shirt but with the sleeves ripped off and with the goggles around his neck as his hands are bandaged like the other and he has a katana sword by his side, he had brown eyes and his coal black hair had tied into a bun, like the american and Russian, had mustache and short beard.

He appears to be avoiding the other man sharpening his kukri, that’s taller than him as he wore a hat with one end bended up and sunglasses, red button-up shirt with emblems like the others and the vest with bullets in the vest’s upper pocket, rifle case on his back with a sniper rifle in it, grayish-green pants and shoes. He is muttering something under his breath as he continued on sharpening his weapon while avoiding the Asian as well as they sat against the old rusted truck.

Other man is wearing some kind of a mask that only revealed his evening sky blue eyes, eyebrows and his mouth, wearing the sharp suit, black gloves and shoes. He is smoking a cigarette as he seemed to be busy.

The next man is black african with an eye patch covering his left eye and wore a cotton beanie on his head, he wore some kind of demolitions expert protection clothing/uniform with six pipe bombs on his chest, he still had his good brown eye to make bombs on the nearby wooden wire spool table with a claymore sword on his back.

Last one in the group with the gender is still yet undetermined, they were wearing a gas mask and a red fireproof suit with flare grenades on the strap across their chest with boots and gloves, they just sat down and watch a dead body burn with their legs crossed, seemed to admire the flames.

Most of them are talking among each other while others stood in silence, till one of the group with the sunglasses muttered ‘’Bloody hell, this is strange…’’ in the Australian accent, that caught the Asian's attention as he turned to face him.

‘’What do you mean Sniper?’’ the Asian in a Japanese accent said, ‘’I’d expected there would be people here in this bloody backwater town but no one’s here.’’ now named Australian answered, ‘’There’s no one here, no sounds of the city nor cars but only things that are here: are a bloody army from outer space and walking dead wankers with no life here mate, I am not sure if this is the world we knew anymore Takeo.’’

‘’I know Sniper,’’ now named Takeo said looking down at the ground, ‘’But I am from mine and now, somehow in fate, we end up here by an unknown force.’’

‘’Yeah yeah…’’ Sniper muttered as he stopped sharpening his kurki then looked at him,

‘’You know, it’s not the first time I have ever been to other world nor timeline,’’ Sniper stated, ‘’We were like you wankers, but it was in the bloody medieval times and there wasn’t like ours when Soldier had angered a wizard. Demoman was the one that helped us win against the BLUs in Degroot Keep castle. Now we both it’s now different than that, expect this time there’s no bloody wizard…’’

Takeo nodded as he understood this situation they were in, then looked over to the figure who is staring at the fire, very focus in fact, as he asked ‘’Your friend is very strange, do they?’’.

‘’Ya mean Pyro?’’ Sniper said as he looked the gas-masked figure, ‘’Yeah they are mate, we wish we knew why they like the fire so much. I guess they just like burning anything they could find on the ground.’’

‘’True but we both know that it’s your team’s responsibility to watch them,’’ Takeo stricted to the tall Australian, ‘’To watch them to make sure they don’t accidentally burn someone in their way unless it’s an enemy.’’

‘’Yes we know, Pyro is our pyro and our responsibility for this.’’ Sniper said as the German with emerald green eyes looked in their way. ‘’Is your Pyro always like zhis?’’ he asked, ‘’Of course zhey are, Herr Richtofen.’’ the one in the doctor’s coat answered. ‘’Vell, at least we still had time for zhis. Do remind me again, vho are ve going to rescue from zhe other vorldly soldiers?’’ Richtofen asked.

‘’Zhe fräulein named Mrs. Pauling, she vas zhe one vho hired us und now coming to her rescue as any mercenary vould do.’’ the doctor answered, ‘’Ah yes, now I remember Medic but still; I cant believe zhat zhis is happening.’’ Richtofen said, Medic nodded.

‘’Well, we are all in this whole mess of f****ups together,’’ The man in the suit said in a french accent ‘’But I can’t believe that we all managed to survive this long without one of our own dying from a zombie or the enemy we’re up against. Even the ones who are from different timelines.’’ as that sentence caught the man in the jacket’s attention as he turned to look at him.

‘’Better watch your mouth there Spy.’’ he said, ‘’Keep talking like that would get you even more trouble than that.’’

‘’Tank, come on man! We’re already gotten into even more trouble than that! With soldiers and zombies runnin’ around, we’re all going to die out there for sure!’’ Other in the cap said till one in the helmet yelled ‘’Don’t you dare to lose faith in everything Private! We are going to survive this war!’’

‘’Yeah, like you know what it was.’’ he said as he grinned like it’s no big deal but in reality it was.

‘’Boys, arguing isn’t gonna get us anywhere and if they come waltzing here, it’s just gonna keep happening and happening.’’ the one in the hard hat said in a Texan accent.

‘’Little Engineer is right about it.’’ the giant Russian said, ‘’Arguing is for babies, working together is now full time job if we are going to survive problem.’’

‘’I agree with Heavy, there is no point to argue.’’ The other Russian said with a strict yet concerned look on his face, Tank and Spy looked at each other for a minute before turning their glazes away from each other.

Boris, Cuphead, Mugman and Frisk are all up on the cliff, just listening to what was going on from above. Different world? Are they really been taken from theirs and then brought there?

That explains the town had been abandoned for quite long time but can something else explain the reason they were here?

As for the 13 men we had met, I know what you were wondering the same thought how they met, let’s do a flashback thing, will we?

[crimsxnrebellion-blog]

Crashing Down

[(Alternate Title: Dante Should Have Listened to Jojo's song, "Little Too Late")

Basically, an AU of what could happen between Dante and Lady because they're both dumb (especially Dante).

So...I fought with myself to even post it. It started out as me working through my emotions through Dante and Lady and kept going. Thus, this has a bit of personal flavor to it, and it took me a bit to even convince myself to finish it or make it anything postable in the first place. So, here's my emotional drivel as I try to cope with my own bad decisions and cowardice. :’3]

Lady’s tone when she called half an hour ago unsettled him. Normally, when she said, “we need to talk,” annoyance or anger burst forth in every syllable and several curses or name calling followed. He could perfectly picture the scowl settled on her features as she straddled her motorcycle or paced in her apartment. Occasionally, a sadness crept into her tone. But, this mostly happened if she had her mother or what happened in that tower that changed their lives forever on their mind. But, this time, little emotion accompanied her request to come over. Her statement a simple answer to his why.

Thus, when she entered the shop dressed in a form fitting black dress with heels and makeup on, fingers worrying the clutch in her hands, the demon hunter raised an eyebrow and clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping. She looked gorgeous. She always did, in all honesty, but he rarely saw her in clothing other than her hunting attire. She glowed in that moment, the only thing dampening her radiance was the obvious worry that creased her brow.

“You come all this way dressed up to ask me on a date or something?” He grinned as the legs of his chair scraped at the wood floor below him. “Well, you’ll have to give me a bit to get ready. I haven’t even showered today.”

She rolled her eyes, and he swore he saw her lips quiver as she tried not to smile. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m going on a date but not with your sorry ass. And quit staring. I have something I want to tell you, to get your opinion.”

Dante stopped midstep, hand resting over his heart. “Wha-what? The brilliant, know-it-all Lady needs my advice?”

“Dante!” Lady stamped her foot, her heel clicking on the wood floor instead of the normal thud her boot would make. “I’m serious! For once, can you cut the crap?”

“Alright, alright.” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he raised his hand in surrender. “What’s got your probably sexy lace panties in a bunch?”

The woman remained silent for at least a full minute, bi color eyes staring anywhere except at her hunting partner. “Let me just preface this by saying I know it’s going to seem a little soon...”

Dante clapped his hand to his mouth. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

“Dante!”

“Okay, okay. Go on.”

She huffed and squeezed her clutch. He figured she was trying her hardest not to chuck it at his head. “You’re on the right topic, at least.” She sucked in a breath and finally met his gaze. “You remember that guy I started seeing, Nick? I brought him over for Christmas to meet all of you?”

Just hearing his name made him want to roll his eyes. His demon growled in jealousy, possessiveness, but he couldn’t fully blame his devil. He remembered that night clearly. How his mood had tanked all night, that loud, fake laughter he had to perform at the guy’s lame jokes to avoid Lady’s glares. Holding back every nasty comment about his clothes, his stature, his physique, his bland personality, how he didn’t treat Lady exactly how he felt she should be treated. The seventh bottle of whiskey he went through before pretending to be too drunk to function and escaping to his room to lick his wounds and fume.

“Sure. The dude who forbid you from talking to me when you first started...dating or whatever you want to call it.” His mind was so clouded by his jealousy, he didn’t put two and two together. “Figured you’d dump him for trying to pull that shit.”

“Dante, I talked to him. He backed off on that. He knows you’re my partner and that we’re close friends.” Another roll of her eyes. “But I didn’t come here to argue with you about this again. The thing is...I think he’s going to propose to me.”

Though he should have seen it coming, the news sank his heart to the pit of his stomach. It felt like his ribcage was closing around his lungs and trying to puncture them. “Would you say yes?” he croaked before he could stop himself. No, she couldn’t get married. Not to some bland idiot like this Nick guy. And Lady settling down? Starting a family? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. She had always been the badass demon hunter to him. The beautiful, amazing, compassionate, irresistible demon hunter.

The question obviously caught her off guard as she blinked and stuttered over how to respond. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Dante could list a million reasons. “I dunno...guess it just seems...sudden.”

“You think it’s too soon?” Her eyes shone as they pleaded with him for guidance. He was the last person she should have this conversation with, knowing his track record. Not to mention he suddenly felt like he needed to vomit on top of the dagger she had metaphorically shoved into him.  

“I’m scared. Really. Me...married.” She laughed, a nervous sound he had never heard come from her. She almost always radiated confidence, and when she didn’t, he helped her build it back up. “But, I really want this. I love him. I’m comfortable with him, and you know that doesn’t ever happen. He accepts me, shitty past and all.”

A twist of the dagger. She loved him. She loved Nick. She didn’t love him. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Panic settled in and pumped his heart a million beats per second. Fight or flight instincts told him to bolt and bolt quick. But he stood rooted to the spot, eyes darting every which way as his mind processed some kind of response.

“Cool.” The aggravation in her expression told him that was the wrong response. “I mean...I’m uh, glad you found someone like that. If he makes you happy, I’m happy for you.”

A lie. A lie that tasted like the bitterest toxin. It wouldn’t kill him. That would be too merciful in that moment.  

Lady’s expression softened, a smile lighting up her features. She threw her arms around him. “Thanks, Dante. It means a lot. Really.” She pulled away. “I need to get going. I’ll tell you how it goes if it happens.”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he muttered as he back moved toward the door. “Later.”

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

Dante slammed his glass back down on the wooden surface of the bar, signaling to the bartender that he needed his whiskey topped off. Bullseye was fairly empty, especially for a Friday night. The jukebox in the corner crooned out Motley Crue’s “Don’t Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)” over the occasional laughter and muted conversations of the few others around him. While on a normal night he would hardly pay the other patrons much attention, his mind was so entrenched in his memory of his meeting with Lady a few hours before that his general aloofness became complete distraction.

He brushed his fingers through his snowy locks. If someone asked what he felt in that moment, he wouldn’t know what to tell them because he couldn’t begin to pin his emotions for himself. He was angry, at her, at himself, at Nick. Crushed and broken hearted. He felt stupid. Jealous. Guilty because he knew he should be happy for her. Happy that she would be getting the life she secretly longed for—marriage, a family, stability—but he just couldn’t bring himself to even pretend to be happy. The more he tried, the more it hurt.

“Yo, Dante. Did you even hear me?”

Ice blue eyes snapped up to the bartender, an old friend named Frank. A shorter guy with cropped gray-peppered brown hair and a knowledge of liquor to impress even the most refined conisseurs. He claimed that Dante was the reason he was able to keep the place open. That and the fact that it was connected to a seedy strip club. “Sorry. Got a lot on my mind is all.” He swiped up his glass and took a long swig. The burn hardly bothered him anymore. He set the near empty glass back down and watched as Frank refilled the amber liquid.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had woman problems. And not just the usual ‘they took my money again’ woman problems.”

“Well, ya ain’t far off the mark,” he sighed, spinning a coaster in his hands before tossing it back on the bar. “Lady might be getting hitched.”

“Well, good for her,” Frank said, ducking under the bar to grab another few beers for the two guys sitting at the end. “It’s about time she found someone. A few years ago, I would have bet all I have that the two of you would end up together.”

Though he tried to keep it from his face, he could tell by how Frank balked that he wasn’t successful. He drained the rest of his whiskey. “I don’t know. It’s just...weird. And he’s not right for her. He’s so...plain and normal.”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe that’s what she wants. You two don’t exactly lead the most normal lives.” He picked up a bottle whose rose-tinted glass twisted like a cyclone all the way up the neck. Some fancy, overpriced vodka by the look of it. He twisted the bottle around to examine the label. “Though it sounds to me like you do wish she was marrying you.”

Dante didn’t answer right away, and he avoided Frank’s accusing stare in favor of peering into his glass as if it had all the answers. “It’s just...” He breathed out a breath between a sigh and a huff, searching for the right words. “I’ve...been in love with her for a long time. I know I have. But, I know she could never see me that way, and it could never work out between us. I’ve known that for a long time but I still feel shitty about all this. Like I want to be happy for her, I should be happy for her, but I’m not and it feels selfish.”

He knew he was speaking a mile a minute, jumping from one thought to the next. But, since Frank had given him a chance, every thought he had over the past few hours spewed from his mouth faster than he could shoot his prized pistols. Had it not been for his chuckling, Dante would assume he hadn’t caught a lick of it.

“What’s so funny?” he barked, swigging the rest of his drink. “I’m a mess over here and all you can do is laugh at my dumb ass?”

“Well, you got that right: you’re definitely dumb.” Dante flipped the bartender off as he refilled his whiskey. “If you loved her, why the hell didn’t you just tell her?”

“It’s complicated.” He thought she hated him. He knew she could never truly love someone who was half the creature she sought to rid the world of. He assumed she wanted to keep their relationship as professional as possible. He was basically a manifestation of trash who thrived on sex, pizza, strawberry sundaes, booze, and killing demons. While she could defend herself, he had a glowing target on his back with incandescent arrows pointing at him and screaming, “SON OF THE TRAITOR, SPARDA.” Anyone he brought into his life would be put in danger, and he could never live with himself if something happened to her because he wasn’t there. He couldn’t let that happen again. He had been too weak, too young the first time. He wouldn’t let someone else be killed because of him or his heritage if he could help it.

“I doubt she feels the same,” he finally settled on. He stared down into the amber liquid in the glass. “I doubt she could feel the same. I’m a mess. She deserves better than me, anyway.”

But even I’m better than Nick.

Frank’s sigh raised his gaze again. “Well, if that’s how you feel. Never took you to be the type with confidence issues considering how often I see you leaving with a woman on your arm.” He topped Dante’s glass off one last time. “Give yourself time. You’ll sort out your shit and be back to normal before you know it.”

Dante nodded and finished off his drink. His chest still weighed a thousand pounds. “Thanks, Frank.” He tossed money on the bar with a generous tip. “I’ll see you around.”

He pushed open the door of the bar and headed out into the balmy evening air. He considered going next door to Love Planet. Watch some girls take their clothes off while slinging back shots that wouldn’t really affect him for at least another hour. Flirt with scantily clad waitresses and take one home. Drown his sorrow and self-pity the way she had for the last few decades. Pretend he had never spoken to Lady or that the conversation didn’t leave him feeling utterly idiotic and empty. But his feet had a different idea and lead him back to his door, the neon sign above bathing the area in a pink glow.  

Inside, he flipped on the light and dragged his arms out of his coat. He tossed it on the hook and trudged over to the couch. He splayed out, feet jutting out over the edge and his arm dangling over the side. The fan spinning above him didn’t do much to ward off the night’s heat, but he hardly cared. His mind was too busy replaying Lady’s visit to fathom any discomfort.  

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he drew it out. A text from Trish about a job for him tomorrow. One she no doubt felt was beneath her, so she pawned it off on him. His eye was drawn to the time. 2:17 in the morning. He hadn’t realized he had been out so long. Lady would be home by now, probably sharing her bed with Nick. He could see her wrapped in his arms as he fucked her, hear her moaning his name as her nails dug into his acne-covered back, a rock the size of her fist on her left hand.  

He should tell her how he felt. Let it all out there. He could call her now and confess his love for her. Tell her it’s always been her he wanted. Her he wanted more than anything else in the world but he didn’t have the balls to tell her. He feared for her and feared that she couldn’t love him but he didn’t care about that anymore. He loved her, and no one could keep her safe better than him.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had scrolled through his few contacts and hit the green “call” button beneath Lady’s name. It rang twice. What was he doing? He wasn’t even drunk and he was acting like some idiot who got wasted and called his ex. He moved the phone from his ear and started to tap the “end” button when the ringing buzz ended, replaced but a soft but somehow beautiful sigh.

“Dante?” He hadn’t even placed the speaker back to his ear, frozen in place. Her voice was heavy with sleep; she had been out for a few hours. Maybe Nick wasn’t there after all. Maybe she told him no and sent him packing. His heart soared in a renewed hope for a second, unfreezing his stone limbs.

“Dante, if this is a joke, it isn’t funny. I’m trying to sleep.”

He placed the device back to his ear. “No, no. Don’t hang up.” He sucked in a breath as he heard the grumble of a male voice, jaw clenching as he made out something along the lines of, “are you kidding me? Hang up on him. It’s almost three in the morning, babe.”

Lady ignored him. For now. “Then, what do you want? Not all of us can survive on a few hours of sleep and naps throughout the day.”

“I...” He paused. He couldn’t tell her. Not with that fucker so close to her. Probably listening like the creep he was. “Can you come over?”

“Now? Seriously, Dante?” Her voice had softened, though, the sound soothing him. She could sense his distress. His voice lacked the bravado it normally possessed no matter how hard he tried to sound normal. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

No, he had to do it now. If he waited, he would lose his nerve. “It’s urgent, Lady. I wouldn’t ask this of ya if it wasn’t important.”

Another sigh, the shift of springs. A protest from her bed mate. “Promise me it will be quick. I’ll be there soon.”

He clicked the phone off and returned it to his pocket. Common sense told him this whole thing was stupid. Ridiculous and juvenile. But he just...had to tell her. Get it off his chest. Maybe she felt the same after all. Maybe she had been waiting for him to tell her this after all these years because she didn’t know how to say it herself. Maybe he would ditch Nick and he his. Maybe...

He was getting ahead of himself. One step at a time. He needed to control his hopes, but, as the sound of a car parking up front and boots climbing the stairs reached his ears, he knew he was failing miserably at it. His heart beat picked up a hundred-fold as he stood up and watched her walk in the door.

“So, what’s so important that you had to drag me out of bed at two in the morning?” Her short, raven locks were disheveled from sleep, and she hadn’t bothered to change out of the shorts and tank top she wore to bed (though she did take the time to put on a bra, much to his dismay). She wore her usual boots, which to some would look horrendous, but to Dante, she looked like a goddess standing there. He was only snapped back to his mission when she yawned and raised her left hand to cover her mouth. The light glinted off the diamond and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

"There's something I gotta tell you. I needed to a long time ago but I was too chicken.” He studied her face as she quirked a brow in question. He rememorized every detail from the shape of her crimson and blue eyes, the pearlescent scar across her nose, the rosy tint of the full lips he longed to plant his on. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

“Lady...I...I love you.”

He couldn’t read her face in that moment. It flashed from surprise to confusion to annoyance and cycled through each emotion in rapid succession. Her lips parted and closed several times as she searched for the right words to say.

“W-what?”

“I love you.” He spoke more firmly this time. The words felt so natural. Tasted better than anything on his tongue. He felt drunk on the emotion in that moment, high on the decades old weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Dante...how? Why?” Before he could tighten his grip on her, she slipped away from him and took a few steps backward. His high crashed and burned as he saw unshed tears shine in her eyes. His heart felt heavy again, and his throat closed off. He felt as though his muscles would fail him at any second.  

“Lady, I had to tell you. Finally get it off my chest. I’ve felt this way forever and--”

“No.” She held up her hand and shook her head. Her tears escaped her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. Her voice trembled. “No. No no. You can't do this to me, Dante. Not now.”

Lady stepped back to the door and his body lurched forward of its own accord. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held fast. “Please, Lady. Just hear me out. You mean the world to me and I wish I had told you sooner but-”

“But you had to wait until someone else showed up? Until I gave up on you and tried to start my life? A halfway normal life?”

He could feel his heart ripping itself to shreds as a mocking voice chanted, “You’re too late” over and over in his head. His grip slackened, and she took full advantage of it, ripping her hand from his grip. He swallowed and fought his own tears. Whoever would have thought a woman would ever make him feel so low or make him cry?

“Lady...”

“Save it, Dante.” She scoffed and swiped her hand beneath her eyes, over her cheeks, clearing them of tears. She coughed out a short laugh, the sound bitter and too high. “What did you expect to happen when I got here? That I would just give up everything and get with you?” Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“I waited too long for you, Dante...I’m getting old. I couldn’t, wouldn’t wait forever.”

He was paralyzed. She was right. Had he really expected that? That this would end like a fairy tale? He knew better; his life was the exact opposite. How could he possibly expect a happy ending?

His emotions went into damage control mode. He went numb. He shut off his anger. His sadness. His regret. He was a monster, he reminded himself. Monsters didn’t love, and they certainly didn’t deserve love.

“You’re right.” He finally managed. He brushed his fingers through his hair and turned his back on her, ignoring her sniffle and choked sob. “I’m sorry for bringing you over here. Go get some sleep.”

Dante lowered himself on the couch and closed his eyes. “I gotta get to bed myself, anyway. Early job.” He fought the urge to open his eyes when he didn’t hear her move immediately. To run over and scoop her into his arms. To kiss her and beg her to be with him. Or at least not to hate him for being so stupid all these years and only just now getting the nerve to tell her. His fingers curled around the bottom of the couch to keep him latched to the leather cushions.

He heard her sigh, a shuddering sound. “Goodnight, Dante.”

Finally, boots cleared the rest of the wood floor to the door. He winced as it creaked open and clicked shut. Blue eyes opened to stare at the ceiling, filled with bitter tears. He felt as though everything in him had been sucked out of him, a mere shell lying abandoned on his couch. But the pain...he could still feel that. And it hurt worse than any sword thrust through his guts.

[vincent-frankenstein]

Bloodbond - Chapter Ten

Part ten of my entry for @ts-storytime !!

Chapter Summary: In the terrible demon realm, Roman finds help where he least expected it — in two demons named Talyn and Sleep, the last of the rebels.

Pairings: prinxiety

Warnings: panic attack, a few mentions of death but nothing too bad

Read on A03

{ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 }

art by @pattykrabbies {here} and @vdkstar {here}!!!

(cover by @vdkstar <3)

It was like the Bloodbond but worse, yanking and tugging at him from all different angles as the world tilted into a mess of blurred colors and deafening noises. Virgil’s grip on his hand became vice-like as the chaos threatened to tear them apart, Roman’s scream lost to the cacophony.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the feeling vanished and Roman stumbled to his hands and knees, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. The ground beneath him was rough, and the air around him hung heavy with humidity, carrying the thick smell of smoke. He heard Joan cursing and breathed a sigh of relief, his grip on Virgil’s hand loosening.

“You alright there, princey?” Virgil’s hair was tousled, his cloak a tangled mess, but he was otherwise unaffected, watching the two humans with a smirk. Roman glared as he tried (and failed) to get to his feet, the world swaying around him.

“You could’ve — c-could’ve warned us that it was that horrible!” Roman snapped, voice shaking. Virgil shrugged, reaching up to fix his hair.

“Sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Y’know, for someone who promised to help us, you’re not being very helpful,” Joan complained as they stood, their face pale.

“I got you here, didn’t I?” Virgil said, gesturing to the world around them, and Roman bit back a gasp as his vision cleared. He’d heard stories of the demon realm, of its nightmarish landscape, but this… this was terrifying.

The sky above them was a deep, rusty, bloody red. There was no sun in sight; instead, the ground itself seemed to radiate heat, as though they were standing atop the sun. The air was hazy, smoky, carrying a scent of death and masking a landscape of dead fields and run-down towns surrounding a massive castle seemingly made of darkness.

They’d landed on a small hill, overlooking the grid of darkness beneath. Roman’s gaze caught on the castle, on the sharp spires and dark windows and the feeling of pure malevolence that seemed to radiate from it, and every inch of him seized up with fear, his eyes going wide. The smoke in the air was too thick, too much, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, clamping his hand tightly over his mouth as terror flooded his system.

“Snap out of it, princey.” Virgil set a hand on his shoulder, holding tightly, and he reached over to bracingly grab Joan’s arm too. “Breathe. This hellhole’s magic is enough to make you go insane with fear, you need to stop focusing on it and breathe.”

Virgil kept talking, and his voice slowly but surely dragged Roman from the pit of terror he’d fallen into. He fought to regain control of his breathing, tearing his gaze away from the castle and putting all his focus onto Virgil’s voice.

“You good?” Virgil asked once Roman’s breathing had evened out.

“Just peachy,” Roman said as Joan nodded, forcing himself to ignore the smoky fear hanging in the air. Virgil ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh.

“We’ve gotta move quickly. Follow me.” He started down the hill, and Roman and Joan exchanged a look before jogging after him, towards the tiny group of broken-down houses at the bottom. There was no one else in sight, not a single living soul, and silence reigned over the world as Virgil approached the smallest house, a wooden shack so run-down that Roman was surprised it was even still standing.

The inside was empty and dark, red light filtering in through the cracks in the walls and illuminating the dusty, dirt-covered floor. Virgil crouched down and swept away the dirt, revealing the twisted rune for hidden burned into the wood.

“What does this have to do with rescuing the king?” Joan asked, breaking the silence and making them both jump. Virgil glared, the sharp angles of his face enhanced by the dark red glow from outside.

“Do you think the three of us can face Queen Aliah on our own?”

“Yes,” Roman began.

“No,” Virgil cut him off swiftly, turning back to the rune. “We’ll need help, and this is how to get it.” He placed his hand atop it, fingers splayed across the wood, and it began to softly glow, the floor melting away to reveal a ladder leading into the darkness below.

Joan stopped Roman as Virgil started down the hole, their expression dark and distrustful. “Are you sure about this?” they asked, their voice hushed. Roman glanced at the hole, face softening.

“No,” he said truthfully, “but we have to save the Royal Mage and my father. This… could be our only chance at help. Besides, I trust V — Anxiety.”

Joan hesitated. “...then lead the way, your highness,” they said finally.

The ladder brought them deep underground, into darkness so thick that Roman couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. His and Joan’s fire combined could barely do more than illuminate a few feet in front of them. They met up with Virgil at the bottom, and he led them down a narrow side-tunnel.

The tunnel came to an end quickly, leading into an open room lit by weakly flickering torches. A few old, mismatched tables and chairs were scattered around the room, most housing piles of food or bandages. Virgil stepped into the room and smiled.

“Here we a — ah!” he yelped as a blur of brown and white rushed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Roman rushed forward, quickly summoning his sword to fend off whatever had dared to attack them.

“Leave him al…” He trailed off mid-sentence when he realized that Virgil was laughing, his smile happier than Roman had ever seen before as he reached down to wrap his arms around the blur.

“Anx! Girl, we missed you!” The blur pulled away from Virgil, grinning with razor-sharp teeth. His face was tan, his hair a mess of soft brown and his eyes glowing orange-brown in the firelight. His wings were warm brown, matching the brown freckles littered across his face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes as he fixed his lopsided cloak. “... I missed you too, Sleep.”

“Sleep?” Joan stepped further into the room, regarding the rough stone walls and the small piles of food with one eyebrow raised. The other demon — Sleep — finally took notice of them and froze, eyes narrowing.

“Anxiety, tell me you did not bring humans into our lair,” he said, tone laced with disbelief.

“Okay. I didn’t bring humans into our lair.” Anxiety rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to explain, shooting a glance at Roman, but a small voice cut him off.

“Did someone say Anx? Is he back?” A smaller demon lingered in the entrance of another tunnel, their eyes widening as they caught sight of the group. Sleep held out his arm, shaking his head.

“Stay back, Talyn, he brought humans,” Sleep snarled, wings curling defensively. “Why would you bring them here?” Are you insane?”

“Because we need your help, idiot. The Royal Asshole stole their king, and we need to get him back. Okay?” Virgil met Sleep’s angry glare with a stubborn one of his own. “I’d never intentionally bring any of them here without a good reason, Sleep, you know that.”

“Besides, you can trust us! I promise.” Roman had managed to charm all the hatred right out of one demon, who’s to say he couldn’t manage another? He smiled, waving kindly at the smaller demon, who watched him warily.

“Human promises don’t mean anything to me,” Sleep said with a roll of his eyes. “You could’ve at least warned us you were bringing company, girl. I coulda fixed the place up a bit.”

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, because you would’ve chosen cleaning for humans over sleeping. Makes sense.”

“So… what is this place?” Joan asked, their gaze caught on the smaller demon. Roman relaxed his grip on his sword, allowing it to disappear in a shower of sparks.

There was a map lying across one of the tables, stabbed through with pins and covered in scribbled lines leading towards the castle in the center. A battle plan, maybe? He peered at it closer.

“Rebellion central,” Virgil said with a tense shrug. “It’s where we hide from the queen and where these idiots try to plan to take her down.”

“As if you’re not one of ‘these idiots,’” Talyn spoke up, cautiously making their way further into the room. Their short, curly hair seemed to shimmer beneath the lights, changing from deep blue to soft pink and back against.

“I only stayed because you guys have food.” Virgil reached over to ruffle Talyn’s hair, making them groan in annoyance. But his fond smile slipped from his face quickly, and he crossed his arms. “We need to get inside the castle,” he said, suddenly all business.

“The queen took my father,” Roman said, “and the Royal Mage of Gaepried. We need to get them back.”

“We need your help.” Joan still looked uncomfortable, surrounded by those they’d been trained to hate, but they spoke earnestly, imploringly.

“So what you’re saying is, you all have a death wish.” Sleep looked at them as though they’d each grown extra head, eyes flashing with disbelief behind the darkness of his glasses. “Do you have any idea how dangerous her castle is? How powerful she is? Girl, tell me you’re joking.”

“You’ll all die,” Talyn added, face grim. “If she had your friends, they’re probably already dead. There’s no point going after them.”

“We have to try.” Roman’s heart pounded in his chest. They couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t allow it.

“You are serious, oh my god,” Sleep cried.

“Don’t worry, Sleep, you won’t have to interrupt your precious naptime for us. We just need your maps of the castle. We’ve gotta get inside,” Virgil said. A moment later, his face softened. “I don’t want either of you risking your lives for us.”

“Bold of you to assume we’d let you go alone.” Talyn made their way to a bookshelf in the back of the room, searching the dusty shelves. They stood on the tips of their toes and pulled a rolled-up map from the top shelf, and threw it at Virgil. “What’s the plan, Anx?”

“Bold of you to assume we have a plan,” Virgil muttered, dropping to sit cross-legged as he spread the map across the floor. Roman studied the twisting hallways and tunnels scattered across the castle’s map as he sat beside Virgil, his eyebrows furrowing.

Joan sat opposite Roman, right beside Talyn, and after a moment’s hesitated, they offered them their hand. “I’m Joan.”

The demon regarded him for a moment, their eyebrow quirking up. “Talyn,” they said, offering a hesitant smile.

Sleep leaned over the map, jabbing his finger onto a room in the depths of the castle. “The dungeons,” he said. “If your missing humans are anywhere, they’re going to be there.”

Roman listened intently as Sleep explained the layout of the castle, ignoring the fear lingering in the corners of his mind as he did his best to memorize the twisting halls of Queen Aliah’s castle. His father, the Royal Mage… they were in there, somewhere, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to save them.

Slowly but surely, they came up with a plan. They’d leave the next morning, just before daybreak, take out any guards they came across, and sneak into the dungeons. They’d sneak King Odin and the Royal Mage out before Queen Aliah had even woken up.

There were too many ways that it could go wrong to count, as Virgil had kindly pointed out, and Roman found that he couldn’t shake the tendrils of fear seeping deeply into his mind as he tried to fall asleep that night. Princes don’t get scared, he told himself as he stared through the darkness, that hazy feeling of terror filling his lungs once more. Princes don’t get scared.

“You okay?”

He yelped at the sudden noise, slapping a hand over his mouth as his cry echoed through the lair. He heard a familiar snicker and growled, placing a hand over his chest to calm his panicked heart. Virgil’s silhouette watched him through the darkness, his wings wrapped tightly around himself.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered.

“I’m not sure that I believe you,” Roman grumbled, letting out a shaky breath.

“I mean, you getting scared for no reason is pretty funny,” Virgil said, voice shaking with hushed laughter. Roman rolled his eyes, pulling himself into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around his knees. Silence fell over the room.

“Seriously, though.” Virgil shifted, his voice hushed and uncertain. “Are you… okay? I-I mean this… this place is bad enough for a demon, and you’re going through a-a lot, and I just —”

“Why, Virgil, it almost sounds as though you care about me!” Roman found himself smiling despite the fear shrouding his mind. Virgil growled.

“I don’t, I promise. You’re still an asshole.” Roman could practically feel his glare through the darkness. “Excuse me for trying to be nice.”

“No! No, I appreciate it, really!” Roman spluttered.

“Y-Yeah?” Virgil coughed. “Well… good. Cause this is a one-time thing.” A moment passed in silence. “Well? Are you okay?”

Princes don’t get scared, his mind yelled as it clogged the truth in his throat and tried to force him to say yes. He hesitated, hugging his knees to his chest. “...No,” he said finally, so softly that he wasn’t even sure Virgil heard him.

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Am I really that bad at hiding it?” Roman asked with a weak, humorless chuckle. Virgil snorted.

“You’re a terrible actor,” he replied, laughing as Roman feigned offense. “Look, I’m not good at comforting or any sappy shit like that and this is a really dangerous thing that we’re doing and there’s… a lot of ways this could go wrong —”

“Is this your idea of being helpful?” Roman quipped.

“ — but,” Virgil continued, ignoring Roman’s interruption, “we’ve done a lot of really dangerous things before, right? I-I mean — I’m gonna sound like a huge hypocrite for saying this, but… don’t kill yourself worrying just yet. You’re like… the biggest idiot in all the realms and yet you still always manage to come out on top, so…”

He trailed off, his awkward attempt at comfort hanging in the air between them. Roman hesitated, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he struggled to find the right words to respond. Anxiety was gruff and unsure, but he was being genuinely nice, and it sent a flutter through Roman’s heart.

“I… thank you,” Roman said softly, finding that the fear clouding his mind was fading. “You’re right, of course, I-I am Prince Roman! I never lose!”

“Well now that’s just a blatant lie,” Virgil said with a playful snort.

“Hey, what happened to comforting me?” Virgil’s quiet, giggling laughter was infectious, and Roman found himself laughing too, his hand clamped over his mouth to keep from waking the others. And when the laughter faded, a comfortable, friendly quiet took its place. “And… the same goes for you, alright? I promised I’d get you out of this alive, and I don’t intend to break that promise. So there’s no need for you to worry.”

“Yeah, sure.” Virgil yawned widely, sliding down to lie beside Roman. Roman stretched out across the floor, shifting to watch the demon, and their eyes met through the darkness. They lingered in each other’s gazes, silent, curious. “Goodnight, princey,” Virgil said silently, his eyes fluttering shut.

Roman hesitated. He knew it wasn’t fear making his heart thud in his chest, making blood rush to his face — but the alternative was far too confusing to dwell on. He regarded the demon through the darkness for a moment longer before his eyes slipped shut.

“Goodnight, Virgil.”

[lotolle]

Chapter 3 

This story is based on a dream I had a while ago about an incubus who prides himself in being a collector. He keeps valuable, often dangerous items, and works with various beings in existence (and out of it) in order to get more things and earn favors. His problem? He can’t keep a secretary more than a few weeks before they quit.

Previous Chapter 

Next Chapter 

First Chapter

Bast took the cat from Domingo, holding it like a mother would a child, and turned. Domingo followed quietly, eyes wandering about the rest of Bast’s home. Everything was made to look like a temple, a shrine to her magnificence. Plants that no longer existed lined the windows, old perfumes lingering in the air. And of course, depictions of her power on every wall. Bast walked down the long corridor to a beautiful pool with crystal clear water.

“Show me the vial.”

Domingo fished it out of his pocket, and showed it to Bast. She took a moment then hummed.

“Take any more, I will have your head.”

“How merciful,” Domingo walked over to the spring, careful that only the vial touched the water. He didn’t do too well with holy liquids, after all, and this was no exception. Even though he didn’t fall under her pantheon, sacred was sacred. And sacred burned. Once the vial was full, he took it back, and put it in his pocket.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Thank you, your grace.”

“This relic is worth more than all the water in that spring to me, Collector. Is your client so desperate for a drink?”

“Maybe they are,” Domingo bowed again. “Have a pleasant evening, your grace.”

Bast didn’t respond, but her eyes never left Domingo. She didn’t follow him back, but a small swarm of cats did. They moved in the shadows, right on Domingo’s heels. He fought to keep his cool, but he’d heard of these beasts and their voracious hunger. And even though gods were bound to their word, their minions weren’t. Domingo heard a threatening hiss behind him just as he grabbed for the door, and he quickly let himself out, shutting it behind him. There, not too bad. Domingo smiled to himself and continued on his merry way when a deafening roar sounded behind him. He bolted, running as quickly as he could. He didn’t dare look back, focused only on getting out of this place before whatever was behind him caught up. Domingo pulled up one his necklaces, a feather dangling on the end.

“Oficina!” He called, and on his next step, he vanished from existence. It was fast and horribly dizzying, but angel feathers really were the best way to travel when trying to escape. Domingo shut his eyes, trying to block out the near blinding light around him when he suddenly appeared in his office.

Ten feet over his desk. He fell with a painful thud and a surprised grunt, but at least he was a live.

“Oh…time for a new feather,” He hissed, pushing himself up carefully.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

Domingo quickly looked up and saw…

“Julian?”

“Did you fall through the ceiling or…?” Julian peeked in, but other than Domingo, everything else looked undisturbed. “Uhh.”

“I teleported, sort of,” Domingo rolled his shoulder, and it popped. “Ow.”

“Where were you?”

“On a job. Gods can be so dramatic. We made a fair deal and she still tried to kill me,” Domingo pouted then took the vial out of his pocket. “But it was worth it.”

“If you say so.”

Domingo set the vial on his desk and looked at Julian.

“So, Evana didn’t scare you off?”

“…if she shows up again, I might quit. She picked me up like I was a pillow or something.”

“That’s probably how you felt to her, honestly. It’s good to have you back though, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, I appreciate it, but you said this job was tough, and Shaundra warned me too.”

Domingo couldn’t help smiling at Julian.

“You’re tough, I’ll give you that.”

“So umm, anything you need me to do today?”

“If you wouldn’t mind calling my client and letting her know I got what she wanted, that would be great.”

“Where’s the number?”

“No number. You’ll have to use this,” Domingo held out a mirror, and Julian stared at it like this was a joke.

“Uhh…”

It was nice having Julian back. After a little readjusting and going over a few more specifics about the job, things felt like they got easier. Of course, it was still a shock to Julian every time a supernatural client came into the office, and the occasional unexpected guest. As Julian approached his first full month of employment for Domingo, things started to feel more normal.

“Any calls?”

“Yeesh, you’re soaking wet. Did you walk all the way here?” Julian looked at Domingo, who was drenched down to the skin. He didn’t look too happy either. Domingo tugged off his jacket, which was nearly fused to his skin, and let it fall with a wet shlop.

“The damned feather I’ve been using decided today of all days not to work. And this would be the one time I don’t have any magical chalk, dust, sand, or even any damn change for a taxi!”

“Why didn’t you just call me? I could have picked you up.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Domingo twisted his long, silvery hair, and tried to wring out as much water as he could. “Do I have any spare suits here?”

“Six, if I’m remembering right,” Julian walked over to one of the rooms just down the hall, and looked through the closet.

“What colors are in there?”

“Two lilac, one baby blue, and two red shirts.”

“Red it is,” Domingo headed over as Julian set the fresh outfit out on the bed. “Aww, you know me so well.”

“You’re the only person I’ve met who actually wears jewel encrusted boots. Your style isn’t hard to remember,” Julian looked at what he’d picked and smiled, pretty proud of himself. “Boom!”

“I have to admit, you’re not half bad at this,” Domingo proceeded to peel off his clothes, face scrunched. “I need a shower.”

“Do you even have one here?”

“Of course. You never know what you’ll get on your clothes.”

“That-never mind,” Julian shook his head. “I’ll man the desk while you get changed.”

“Thank you,” Domingo left his soggy clothes in a little pile and grabbed the dry outfit off the bed. “Oh, by the way, if anyone angry comes to the door, don’t answer.”

“How’s the door going to stop them?”

“It’s a portal. If they bust through, they’ll just be standing in an empty apartment,” Domingo shuffled into the bathroom, hands trembling from the cold. Being a demon meant a few things: a better tolerance for hot and cold, pain, and exercise. The obvious things, but for a demon as weak as Domingo, the extra boost didn’t do much. Once he’d showered and dressed himself, Domingo took a little time to neaten up his hair. There. No way in hell was he about to start making appearances looking anything less than perfect! He had a reputation to uphold, and if nothing else, he wanted his clients to remember they were dealing with a professional. As he stepped out, he heard Julian on the phone.

“Yes, there’s an opening next Thursday at two. Yes, of course. Uhu. Alright, Domingo will be expecting you then, thank you.”

“Who was it?”

“Umm, I might say this wrong,” Julian looked at the name he’d written down. “Arhen…Groa?”

“Groya?” Domingo groaned, displeased to hear this. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“He just said it was important he come in and talk to you about something else that I’m not gonna try pronouncing,” Julian handed the note over. “I asked him to spell it out and I think it made him mad.”

“He’s always mad about something. Oh the coffee tastes funny, I had to wait five minutes for you to return, no one will let me eat my brother and claim his throne,” Domingo checked the note, paying no mind to the dumbfounded look on Julian’s face. “Really, the man needs a hobby.”

[nightwingswing]

“Notre Dame de Paris” (Batfam x gypsy! Reader x Ra’s Al Ghul) Part 1

Bonjour ma little wings! Here you have the first chapter of that disney au nobody asked for but everyone deserves! 

So this au will be based mainly in Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame, with also “Notre dame de Paris” Book elements and elements of the musical with the same name and elements from my imagination.

In the image above the fic will feature the main characters of each chapter

THERE WILL BE ONE ENDING FOR EACH CHARACTER! BUT YOUR CHOICES IN EACH CHAPTER HAVE AN EFFECT IN YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THE BOYS AND THUS THE ENDING.

So I’ll give you 3 options and you message or coment your choice. The most voted of them will be the one that the reader will do.

Thanks to @hamsterforlive @chipsinabox @cecedot  and @aliceinwinderland for your coment and support of this au. Also thanks to   @algentforthewin @iisingintheshower @7tharchangel12 @pinkwitch21 @imaprincess09 @lostqueen1613 @cutiedaij @bloodhoundalice @browncoatforever @axa-vega @kaylaphantomhive @roxalienqueenx @memequeen108 for liking it and giving me the suport to write this!

Hope you enjoy!

Part1 (here we are)

                                                             Character GUIDE:

    Damian Wayne - Quasimodo

    Ra’s Al Ghul - Frollo

    Dick Grayson - Clopin

    Reader - Esmeralda

    Jason Todd - Phoebus

    Tim Drake - Pierre Gringoire

Other Info

  (y/n)  Your name      

 (h/c) Hair color    

   (e/c) eye color   

    (g/n) goat name    

   (f/c) Favorite color

The loud bells of Notre Dame rang, waking all Paris up.

Rolling in Paris, the city awakes to the bells of Notre Dame. The fisherman comes with fresh fish and the baker bakes to the Bells of Notre Dame. To the big bells loud as a thunder to the little bells as a sound, and some say the soul of the city it’s the total of the bells, the bells of Notre Dame!

A man dressed with a blue, black suit with yellow feathers in his collars and a matching blue mask, sat behind a cart. A bunch of children sat before him, waiting for him to end his song.

         “Listen! They are beautiful, no? So many colors and sounds, so many changing moves! Because, you know, they don’t ring all by themselves!” He said, suddenly he got a puppet of himself.

“They don’t?!” The puppet said.

“No. you silly boy! Up there, high, high in the dark bell tower lives the mysterious bell ringer! Who is this creature?”

“Who?!”

“What is he?”

“WHAT?”

“How did he come to be there?”

“HOW?!”

“HUSH!” He hit the puppet with a stick as the children laugh at his antics.

“oww” The puppet whined.

“Nightwing will tell you! It is a tale, a tale of a man …and a monster!”

         Dark was the night our tale was begun on the docks near Notre Dame.

“Shut it up! will you!?” The man snarled

“We’ll be spotted!” yelled the other.

“Hush, little one” The woman shushed the crying baby.

Four frightened gypsies slid silently under the dock near Notre Dame.

“Pay, If you want a safe trip out of Paris”

But a trap had been laid for the gypsies and they gazed up in fear and alarm. At a figure whose clutches were iron as much as the bells,

“Judge Ra’s Al Ghul”

The bells of Notre Dame!

Judge Ra’s Al Ghul longed to purge the world of vice and sin, and he saw corruption everywhere, except within.

“Bring this gypsies back to the palace of justice”

“HEY, YOU! WHAT ARE YOU HIDDING?” A soldier pulled the bundle the woman was carrying, she fought back.

“Surely, nothing good. ..Take it from her”

She ran!

         The woman ran the judge closely behind. His dark horse’s hot breath hit the woman’s neck until she jumped a fence. He stopped and she ran towards the Notre Dame.

“SANTUARY! PLEASE GIVE US SANTUARY!” The woman knocks fast and loud on the church’s door. As the judge approached her she tried to run away.

He got a hold of the bundle and pulled hard, she lost her hold and foot.

And…

CRACK!

As her neck came in contact with the cold snow in the stairs of Notre Dame. Al ghul looked unimpressed, he decided to look what the thing the gypsy was protecting.

“A baby?...No, A DEMON!” His eyes widened and quickly covered the baby’s face. He looked around for a way of getting rid of it. Hi eyes widened as he look at the well. He approached it, holding the baby out and ready to drop it.

“STOOOP!” Cried the archdeacon. Who in his arms, hold the dead gypsye’s cold body. Dark memories flood in the back of his eyes. The archdeacon Wayne looked up to the judge’s face.

“This is an unholy demon, I’m sending it back to hell. We’re it belongs.” The judge said nonchalant.

“See, the innocent blood you have spilt on the steps of Notre Dame.”

“I’m guiltless. She ran, I pursed.” He shrugged.

“Now, you would add this child’s blood to your guilt, on the steps of Notre Dame.”

“MY CONCIENCE IS CLEAR!” He snarled.

“You can lie to yourself and your minions. You can claim that you haven’t a qualm. BUT YOU NEVER CAN RUN FROM NOR HIDE WHAT YOU DONE FROM THE EYES, THE VERY EYES OF NOTRE DAME!” Wayne pointed at the statue of the Mary and Jesus, as lighting illuminated their lifeless eyes.

         And from one time in his life of power and control, Ra’s felt a twinge of fear for his immortal soul.

 “What must I do” The judge said, fear written all over his face.

“Care for the child” The Archdeacon said while carrying the body of the woman. “And raise as your own”

“WHAT?” He snarled. “I must be sated with this… monstrous demon from-“He seemed to have a realization, and his face relaxed. “Very well, but let him live with you in your church”

“Live here? Where?!”

“Anywhere…Just so he’s keep locked away where no can else can see… The bell tower, perhaps. And who knows, our Lord works in mysterious ways ” Ra’s looked back  at the baby. “Even this foul creature yet prove on day to be… of use… to me.”

           And Ra’s gave the child a cruel name, a name that mean TO TAME, DAMIAN.

Now here is riddle to guess if you can sing the bells of Notre Dame, who is the monster and who is the man?

Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells BELLS OF NOTRE DAME!

//*\\

Paris woke up preparing for the festival of fools. People setting up colorful tents and a stage at the middle.

Damian looked at everyone, wanting to be freed of his dread. He saw a young little robin, he’s been caring for, for a while back.

“You think you’ll fly today?” He caressed the bird’s hair “I would do it if I where you. Who wants to be trapped here?” He huffed, his abnormal eyes locking down at the ant sized humans setting up the tents.

Then a flock of other birds flew by, Damian smiled encourageously at the little bird who started waving its wings until he was flying above Damian’s hands.

“Go” He smiled at the bird who flew away with the rest. Damian sighed sadly keep looking down. Suddenly the two gargoyles next to him came alive.

“Uff, I thought that bird was never leaving!” A purple bat gargoyle said, spitting straw from the bird’s nest. “I’ll be spitting feathers for a week!”

“Stop exaggerating, Steph.” Another bat shaped gargoyle, this one with yellow and black tones.  “That’s what you get for sleeping with your mouth open!”

“Har har! So funny Babs! Go scare a nun.” Steph said as she leaned in Damian’s shoulder. “Hey, Dami! What’s going on down there? A fight? A flagon?”

“A festival” Said Babs.

“You mean the fest of fools?!” Steph said, exited as Damian nodded “Alright alright alright! Pour the wine and cut the cheese!”

“It is a treat to see the colorful pageantry of the simple peasant folk” Babs said to Damian.

“Boy, I never liked a balcony seat for watching the FOF!” Said Steph ribbing her hands together.

“Yeah” said Damian darkly. “Watch” He then went back inside.

“Oh look a mime…” Steph was about to spit the mime but Babs covered her mouth before anything went down. Obligating Steph to swallow it. She then pointed at Damian. “Het hey! What gives?”

“Aren’t you going to watch the festival with us?” Babs asked.

Damian ignored them.

“I don’t get it!” Steph said to Babs.

“Perhaps he is sick”

“Impossible” A third gargoyle said. This one was completely black. “If 18 years of listening to your arguing hasn’t made him sick, nothing will.”

“But, Cass. Watching the festival of fools has always been the highlight of the year for Damian”

“There is nothing good of seeing a festival if you can never be on it”  She scared the doves above her before following Damian. “He isn’t made of stone like us”

Damian sat beside a handmade replica of the cathedral and the square. With handmade figures of the people living there. He looked longingly at them as the three gargoyles looked sadly at him, Cass decided to approach him.

“What’s wrong” Cass asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“I just, don’t feel like watching the festival”

“Never thought about going there instead?” Cass asked.

“Sure, but I’d never fit in out there. I’m not normal”

“Oh Dami, Dami Dami” Cass said as Steph jumped inside his replica.

“Hey! Quit beating yourself! What do he have to do? Paint you a fresco?!” Steph grabbed the Damian shaped figure from the bell tower and put it beside the other.

“As your friend and guardians, we insist you attend the festival.” Babs said, grabbing Damian by his arm.

“Me?” He asked.

“No, the pope” Said Steph. “Of course you!”

“It would be a fantastical potpourri of educational experience.” Babs nodded

“ Wine, women, animals and so!” Steph said.

“You could learn to identify regional types of cheeses.” Babs said exited.

“A bucket of snails!” Steph said holding a bucket.

“Study indigenous folk music” Babs gestured like she was playing a guitar.

“AND DANCE!” Steph poured the bucket over babs, who glared at her.

“Take it from me, life is not spectator sport. If watching is all you’re going to do, then you’re going to watch your life go by without you.” Advised Cass.

“Yeah, you are human! With flesh, and hair and navel… We’re just part of the architecture! Right Babs?”

“Yes.” Said Babs. Before putting the bucket in Steph’s head.

“Dami, just grab a fresh tunic, a clean pair of pants and go.” Cass tried to drag Damian but he just patted her head.

“Thanks for the encouragement, but you’re all forgetting a really big problem.”

“WHAT?!” The three of them asked.

“My grandfather, Ra’s Al Ghul.” He grabbed a green clad figurine.

“Oh” said the three gargoyles.

“Well, when he says you’re “forbidden” of ever leaving the bell tower, does he mean ever EVER?” Babs asked awkwardly.

“Never ever, and he hates the Fest of fools. He’ll be furious if I asked” Damian sighed.

“Who said you had to ask?” Steph smirked evilly.

“No” Damian said

“You sneak out”

“Just once” Cass said

“Then, you sneak back in!” Said Steph again

“He’ll never know” Cass put a finger in her mouth.

“But if I get caught…”

“Better beg for forgiveness than ask for permission” Babs said, nonchalant.

“They’ll see me!”

“Wear a disguise! Just this once!” Steph put a towel over her head. “What Ra’s doesn’t know, can’t hurt you!” She hides behind Babs.

“Ignorance is bliss” Babs said, mater-of-factly

“No one wants to stay here forever” Cass says.

Damian thought it for a moment, before getting up.

“You’re right! I’ll go”

“YEAH! HURRAY!” Steph said as the three of them cheered.

“I’ll get clean”

“Yeah!”

“I’ll go down those stairs.”

“Yeah!”

“I’ll cross the doors and-”

“Good morning, Damian” Ra’s Al Ghul said darkly.

////*\\\\

Meanwhile, under the watch of Notre dame a young gypsy woman with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes, walked in between the tents.

“(y/n)! wait!” Nightwing, or best known as Dick called you. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, Hello Dick. I’m just searching for Harley, she was repairing my scarf. You know, for the festival.”

“AH! I think I saw her in the green tent, she was helping Ivy.”

“Great, thanks.” You smiled at him and went to find the clown girl.

“WAIT! I’ll go with you!” Dick shouted. He ran towards you, and then proceeded to walk next to you, talking nonstop.

“Oh, where here!” He says.” Now, I have to go back and talk with pop Haley… You think, we can, maybe, I dunno… eat together later? I’ll cook!”

“Okay, but please. Let Jon cook, you will just burn it.” You smiled at him.

“Great! See you later!” He walked away and you got inside the tent, to see Ivy and Harley talking, sitting there with Zatanna.

“(Y/n)! Coming for your scarf?” Harley smiled. Ivy and Zatanna both greeted you with a smile.

“Hey Ivy, Z. Yes, Harls, did you fix it?”

“Fix it? Heck, I improved it!” She smiles, proud of herself. She gets your scarf from inside a brown basked. It was a silk (f/c) with sequins a preset from your mom. Harley had sewed new bright little jewels than sparkled with every movement.

“Oh, Harls… I love it!” You hugged her. She laughed and patted your back.

“Great! Now go! Go practice for your big moment tomorrow! You’ll break so many hearts!” She cheered

“I saw a rather quiet street, not far away. The guards don’t drop by often.” Said Zatanna.

“Great, thanks Z!”

“Be careful, (y/N)!” Said Ivy.

“Will do, thanks!” You smiled.

///*\\\

You put a hat you borrowed from Raptor on the ground, your trusty goat by your side. She watched that no one robbed you.

You started dancing, the only sound that could be heard in the street has the one from your tambourine.

Almost everyone that passed by, gave you a coin. Some looked at you lustfully, some other impressed, and more often that you would like disgusted looks.

A little kid approached you and put a coin in your hat, (g/n) beeed at him, jumping, the little kid smiled and you bowed your head. He bowed back when his mom called him. He said goodbye and ran towards his mom.

At the beginning of the street were you were, Jason Todd, acclaimed knight returned to Paris, his black hair brushed by the wind, his once boney shoulders were now broad shoulders and with what seemed like a red helmet looked at a map, his brown, almost red horse following behind.        

“Hmm, you go for a couple of decades and they change everything!” He said as he wrinkled the map and threw it away. As two guards passed by he decided to ask them.

“Excuse me, the way to the palace of justice?” But the two guards ignored him. He swearer. “I guess not” Then continued his way down the street.

That’s when, after leaving 2 coins in your hat he saw you.

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, enchanted.

You bowed your head nodding, at the same time you hit your tambourine, smiling charmingly.

He smiled rather silly before recomposing himself. Coughing awkwardly, he tried to smile charmingly before going away meanwhile you had heard the call of the guards approaching and tried to run away, (g/n) grabbed your hat but the money fell over, you went back and were gathering them when a guard grabbed you hat before you could reach it.

“Alright, gypsy. Where did you get the money?”

“For your information, I earned it” You got your hat and money back from his clutches.

“Gypsies, don’t earn money” The guard said. You glared at him as the other grabbed you from behind.

“You stole it” Said the one holding you.

“You’ll know a lot about stealing” You said.

“Troublemaker” said the other guard, trying to take your hat. You kicked him in the face, the got away from the hold of the other guard. Your goat then glared at them, kicking one in the shin and kicking the other one in the face. Knocking them down, one of them unconscious. You then took advantage and ran away in the other direction, running towards your secret shortcut to your tent.

Jason, who had seen everything followed you with his eyes until he couldn’t see you anymore. He was very impress with your fierceness.

When the guards tried to follow you he suddenly put his horse in their way, knocking them back down. The one who had bullied you more fell right on a puddle.

“Arsenal, sit” And the horse sat over the guard, making him fell in the puddle.

The people that gathered around them started laughing at their misery, Jason mockingly said:

“Oh, dear I’m so sorry! Naughty horse, naughty! Really, he’s just impossible” Jason leaned over Arsenal, smiling openly and rather fake. “Can’t take him anywhere!”

You, that had stopped in an alley seeing as your shortcut was crowded by guards, had seen everything. You bit your lip and smiled. That man sure has handsome! You looked at him one last time and turned the alley.

“GET THIS THING OFF OF MEE!” The guard yelled painfully.

“I’ll teach you a lesson” Said the other one, unsheathing his sword. Jason got his own sword from his sheath.

“You were saying” Jason smirked. “Lieutenant?”

Then the guard as if he had seen the light for the first time started stuttering and acting nervously.

“Oh, eh , Oh Captain!” He hit his head with his sword trying to salute him, only making a fool of himself. “AT YOUR SERVICE!”

Jason dig his sword on the ground and it cut the other guards moustache. Then he kneeled at the same height as the guards and said:

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now, but the palace of justice?”

In a few moments, they were yelling

“MAKE WAY FOR THE CAPTAIN!”

“UHHH, MAKE WAY!”

Jason saw a few coins on the ground and grabbed them, leaving them in the hat of a beggar in front of him and followed the guards to the palace.

When they were far, you unhooded and looked at the handsome guard who just had given you back the money that fell in your escape.

////*\\\\

That night when you arrived back to your tent, Dick was waiting for you. Food served and a beautiful flower inside a wood glass.

“Dick, what’s al of this?” You asked surprised.

“Well, This is your first festival of fools. I wanted to make it more special. I didn’t cooked this! I swear! It was Eddie! I didn’t know he could cook but surprisingly he can. So if it’s horrible it’s his fault!” Dick rambled.

“Thanks Dick” You kissed his cheek. And Dick’s face reddened.

You obligated Dick to get his mark off for eating. You two had a great time, laughing, making jokes and Dick re-told you the story of the mysterious bell ringer.

“Dick, you’ve told me this story since I was a baby!”

“I know, but it’s very mysterious right?”

“Yeah. It is” You looked outside your tent towards the bell tower, where you swear you saw something moving.

“You know, I told you I had a little encounter with the guard earlier?” You asked absent

“Yeah, I told you they’re complete idiots! Those should be the king of fools, haha!” Dick laughed before taking a sip of his drink.

“I meet the captain” You said and Dick spited his drink.

“DID HE DO SOMETHING TO YOU?” He yelled, checking for bruises.

“No, he was very nice. He even stopped the guards of following me…He was very handsome, his black hair” Dick cheeked his black hair and frowned “his starling blue eyes” Dick’s hands touched his eyes and his frown worsened “And, OH! Those shoulders! Those tights!” You sighed. And Dick pouted.

“I have those same things!” he thought

“Hey, I heard from Z and Ivy that there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Wanna go with me?” Dick smiled adorably.

(What will you say?)

A)  Yes.

B)   No, I’ll stay here.

C)   Yes, but we go with the others.

[sad-af1121]

Unforgettable Part 1/?

Summary: You thought your life would be played out they way you thought. But due to a tragic event, you left everything, including your soulmate, Bucky Barnes.  Pairing: Deadpool x Reader (platonic friendship) Bucky Barnes x Reader (eventually) Word Count:1830 Warnings: Language, angst A/N: Hey :) So this is my first fic series and it’s very slow burned. There’s a lot to the story, and if y’all enjoy it, please let me know and I’d be happy to continue it! This is a very angsty fic, so I’m warning you now. Feedback is welcomed 💜

3 years.

It’s been 3 years since you left your family…

You left your home…

Your friends…

And your lover.

You don’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled, or laughed, or even lived.

Every day was the same. You’d sleep throughout the day, not giving a fuck about the world that seemed to be all sunshine and rainbows. When in truth, the world is pretty fucked up and you’d wondered why people would waste their time having fun, going out, having children, being in love…

They have no idea what goes on in secrecy. What evil organizations are trying to take over the world, an alien invasion, mutant war or the attack of robots who deem that humanity is the reason for everything horrible in the world. And guess what, that robotic, red-eyed son of a bitch was right, however you believed it’s the ones who set out to perfect the human race or did unspeakable things deserve to get rid of from this world and the next. But there were only a few who could work together to save mankind from things that.

Of course, you used to be in a team, but then again that was a time where things were much simpler.

At night, you’d go out and find any suspicious activity. Whether it was saving people lives from criminals or hunting down assholes who have wronged so many and hurt a dozen or so. It didn’t matter. You didn’t care. As long as you showed fear in those who have done or did horrendous acts. They didn’t deserve to be happy, why should they. They’re all scumbags, lacking emotions. They were just… things without a soul. Lifeless creatures walking amongst the living, who believe to have a purpose in the world.

You used to have a purpose. Not anymore.

By dawn, your clothes would be ripped, drenched in blood, sweat, and dirt. You’d look like you stepped out of a horror movie, however, it was reality. You fought with your own inner demons on a daily basis. Oh wait, you’d forget you can sense emotions radiating off of people. You still weren’t used to absorbing all the emotions people felt. You learned to turn off yours a long time ago.

You didn’t need them; you were emotionless.

You weren’t always like this. There was a time where you loved helping people deal with their feelings to try and get them to be happy. Life always fascinated you. You were intrigued with the world and what is was capable of doing, showing and creating. It was a beautiful white canvas that was painted over with mother nature’s intendancies and desires. But you saw the world and life colorless, black and white with red.

You never knew who your real parents were. You were put in an orphanage at the age of 13. You had no memory of your previous years. It was like someone deprived you of that, yet you had no clue if you had maybe suffered through something traumatic or had a medical condition that caused you to have long term memory loss, learning how to do everything again, creating a new identity. A new you.

At the age of 15, you were sent to a foster home. You had a loving family and a brother who would do anything for you. However, knowing the life you set for yourself, you pushed them out your life, no shut them out. They were safe not knowing where you were, if you’re alive or not. You remember the first time they freaked out over your powers. Yeah, more than one. Not only could you feel what others were feeling, but you emitted energy in form of blue fire, wrapping around your hands. It’s also powered my emotions.

Your own actually.

You had to be careful not to get upset or angry or else you’d send a wave of power, damaging a whole lot. You found this out when you were being examined and tested by Bruce Banner. He was fascinated by your molecular makeup and so was Tony. Well, Tony cared about perfecting you in any way possible, building weapons and gadgets to help you aim your powers whenever they got out of control.

You were anything but in control.

Your foster parents had thrown you a birthday party when the lights went out. You got upset and when your foster mother tried calming you down, but you got more upset. You balled your fists and blue fire appeared, lighting up the room in the most exquisite and mesmerizing color. They were afraid to touch you but as you saw the fear and worry they had, the blue orbs disappeared. You leaped into their arms and started crying, trying to understand what was going on. They told you, you brought light into their lives. You smiled a bit at the memory. They didn’t know what to do but to keep your powers a secret so that people didn’t hurt you. You were their daughter and they protected and cared for you as long as they could.

As long as you would.  

You longed to go back and stop the things that brought you here in the first place. Life was slipping through your delicate hands that were now tough and torn from your lack of caring. Sure, you were still beautiful, capturing the eyes of any male or female who found you exquisite and stunning. But you just couldn’t keep up with yourself. People came first rather than you. That’s how its always been. Your fears came true and you were living in one for the rest of your life until you draw your last breath…

Trapped.  

***                          

You groan, hearing your alarm go off and you slam your fist on the device before snapping your eyes open and seeing it in a million pieces. Shit, you cursed at yourself and shifted around the bed, trying to get in a better position to sleep your ass off. However, your roommate started blaring music around the house as a reminder to wake you up. You grabbed an unoccupied pillow and covered it over your head and ears, blocking the horrendous music from ruining your precious sleep. But the sound of the door, slamming open and hitting the wall startled you.

“Ya know Y/n, it’s not healthy to sleep your ass off all day. How else are ya gonna get that ass nice and firm?”

“Get the fuck out Wade!” You threw that same pillow at his head, which he skillfully blocked by ducking his head then turning back to you, plopping himself on the bed. Your roommate is indeed, Deadpool himself. He found you struggling in an alleyway, pressed against a brick wall with some smug bastard’s hands around your throat. He swooped in and saved your life. Well, you used your powers to throw the guy off you and he shot him before he could hit the ground but he was fascinated with the fact that you were a mutant. You two instantly grew fond of each other and he’s been your friend ever since.

But that didn’t change the fact of how annoying this son of a bitch was.

“That really hurt my feelings. I thought we were more than an abusive relationship Y/n? I thought you loved me?” He says with his stupid sarcastic voice that makes you wanna punch the daylights out of him. You growl and sit up, flashing the Freddy Kruger, looking guy a fake smile.

“I’m up asshole. Now go and fuck up someone else’s day, okay?” You rolled your eyes and looked at the other clock you had on your dresser, 8:30 p.m. You signed and hopped out of bed, making your way to your bathroom to get dressed and freshen up.

He casually follows.

“So what’s for today’s agenda, you apathetic little troll? Gonna go guns blazzin’ in another supermarket?” He snickers and bends over, laughing like he saw someone run into a glass window.

“No asshole. I didn’t know that jerk was gonna run in there in the first place. I didn’t wanna lose him, and it’s not like I shot anyone besides that criminal.”

“Y/n… you shot him in the dick.” He cringes. “Even I felt that one. You took his babymaker away. How else is he supposed to cumpie in women?”

Your eyes shot wide open and your nostrils flared at his comment and you threw your switchblade from the bathroom, stabbing Wade in the chest. He looks down at the weapon as if nothing happened and looks back up to you, in total disbelief.

“Baby, what did I say about throwing your toys everywhere? People can get seriously hurt.” He pulls out the blade, groaning before wiping off the blood and handing it back to you.

“We need counseling sweetheart. I-I don’t think I can live like this.” The smug bastard pretends to cry and sound hurt, but you know he’s all act. He’s like a walking bad comedy movie that you wish never existed. You pinch the bridge of your nose showing how frustrated and agitated you were becoming.

“Wade, is there a reason why you’re being more of a complete ass this evening? You’re usually hanging out with that idiot who doesn’t know how to speak when I’m around… What’s his name like rodent or something?” You lean against the door frame with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you mean Weasel?  He tried wearing my suit but hurt himself by tripping on it and banging his head against the coffee table, so he’s home…away from me.” He chuckles and you shake your, walking towards your closet, fetching your boots.

“Ohhh, and some Cap guy called your cell today. I thought I was the only other person who knew your number?” He stands in front of you with his arms crossed. You froze and your anxiety levels rising.

“Wh-when did h-he call?”

“This morning. I told him you were out…” He bends down, taking your hand in his, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Hey, it’s alright. I think you should talk to him, he sounded concerned.” You nod your head and look up at him.

“Yeah, yeah… just give me some time.”

Wade nods and kisses your forehead before getting up and walking out the room. You glance at your cell sitting on the nightstand, across the room. You sit there for a good hour, contemplating if you should contact the only people who knew the Y/n before she died. You were a new person. How would they handle that? What did he want? Did… did something happen?

Panic strikes within you and you leap up, sprinting across the room, grabbing your phone, before dialing Steve’s number. It wasn’t saved on your phone, no. You knew it by heart.

Ring, ring…

Your breathing hitches as you hear the familiar voice that was once warm and inviting to desperate and exhausted.

“Y/n? We need your help.”

Tags: @buckybarnesismypreciousplum, @thatawkwardtinyperson, @the-violent-peach, @amrita31199, @finallybreathee, @jezzula, @atari-writes

(if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. And to those who are tagged, if you don’t want me to tag you, please tell me. Thank you)

[fandoms-archive-blog]

Inhuman Winchester

Supernatural

Prompt: You are an inhuman and you’ve been competing at the fight nights to control your power in some way, but your brothers don’t know until they find out.

Requested by: Anonymous

Written By: Idjit-Only - Danni

Reader: Female

Warning: long

A/N: Hi again

======

I hold my head in my hands sitting on the side of my bed. This guy I fought last night had super strength along with body enhancements. It was horrible and I didn’t win. Two months ago I got these powers after I turned into stone and I don’t know what it is but It looks like magic. 

I force two pills down and head to the kitchen to get caffeine. I can already smell the coffee that is brewed non-stop. I yawn and stretch pretending that I got enough sleep(about 3 hours).

“Good, your up. I think I found a case and it’s local.” Sam states scanning his computer.

I grab a coffee cup and pour some finally joining him at the table, “Oh yeah?”

“People have got into this building where there are different people fighting with supernatural abilities but when they come back, the party has moved elsewhere.”

I almost choke on my coffee. That is how my fight night works. Even though I am the youngest of the Winchester family doesn’t make me defenseless. Over the last two months since I got those..abilities...I’ve done my best to hide them and to do that I need to learn how to fight. I have been doing really well. How and why did someone get in there? Only inhumans are allowed in there, unless someone who is inhuman and works for the other team decided to act like the crazy old lady.

“Does that surprise you?” 

“No. I just find it weird. Which is what we do, so let’s wake Dean up and go.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.�� Sam states matter-of-factly.

“The hell I ain’t.”

“You looked drained and you spilled half of your coffee on the floor and didn’t think anything of it. Get some sleep. I’ll have Cass stay here and make sure you stay here.”

“Sam-”

“End of discussion.”

------

Sam and Dean left about an hour ago. I really hope they don’t get hurt. I stare at the beer in front of me. I’ve never liked beer but now I can’t get enough of it. The Bunker door closes and Cas comes back with the food.

“You're supposed to be in bed.” Cass says 

“And you're not suppose to wait on me.” I roll my eyes

“Sam said your overly tired and you need rest. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No. I’m fine.”

My mind has been racing nonstop. If someone did see the place that means Sam and Dean are going to hunt down all those inhumans and kill them or some organization will find them and kill them.

“You don’t look fine.”

Cass places his fingers on my forehead and I jerk from it. I don’t want him knowing anything about me. I grab th3e beer I had in front of me, as I’m walking away I get a call from my brothers.

“What’s up?” I start

“You should be sleeping.” Dean states

“Then why’d you call?”

“We think that that they are witches, very powerful, unlike anything I’ve seen.” I nod toward Cass who’s staring at me. “We might need back up but for now we are going to head back home. Get some sleep.”

With that Dean hangs up. “They are coming back, be here soon.”

“Are you feeling alright? Do you notice anything different about yourself?” Cass questions

“Cass. I am fine, the same as I’ve ever been.”

------

3rd POV

Dean stares in shock at Cass for even suggesting that the Winchesters sister is a monster. A monster that kills.

“Cass that doesn’t make any sense.” Sam counters

“Whatever I felt, that wasn’t (y/n)”

“We will test her then, show you that your mojo is out of whack and get on with it.”

“Dean, has Cass’s mojo been wrong before?”

“I’ll go get her” Cass says as he disappears but reappears in a flash without (y/n). “She’s gone.”

------

“I thought you said this place is protected against actual humans!” I yell at the man in the booth. 

“It was-I don’t know what happened.”

“Well, figure it out.”

The man rubs his face and takes a look at his clipboard, “Your fight is next.” I roll my eyes and get ready for the match. Putting my hood over my head and getting my powers warmed up. 

I sit in the locker room watching the colored smoke I’ve created move around in front of me. I take a deep breath and let it bounce off the walls. I’m ready.

People cheer for me as well as my opponent. 

Let’s address the elephant in the room, I know it was a stupid move to come here when Sam and Dean are worried about my sleep schedule but if I don’t come here, I may lose control of my powers. I waste all the energy here so it spends the day recharging. 

I’m thrown into the ring. The woman across from me smirks, “I heard that your very powerful, but lets see how good you are without your powers.” 

An immune. 

She punches first hitting me square in the face, I stumble back a bit while the crowd laughs. She goes in for a kick to the head but I block it, grab her leg and kick her in the stomach. She falls back but backward summersaults back onto her feet. 

“I knew you didn’t know how to fight properly.”

I have to put her in a daze long enough so she stops neutralizing my powers. So for the next round, I let her try to hit my wearing her out. Last round and the board says I’m losing. I smirk and wait for the opportunity to get a hit. She's so worn that I lay a nice kick to her temple. She stumbles to the ground and I can feel my powers coming back. Suddenly, she jumps me with a knife. ni block it from coming to my face but I'm pinned to the ground.

There are no knives allowed here. I can hear the people trying to open the ring but they can’t get in. 

“You brought them here, and now you're going to pay!” She screams. She brings the knife up to strike for the last time but I hit her in the stomach and the knife comes down hitting my side. I scream in pain. I don’t know what happened but she is suddenly thrown from me, through the gate, into the crowd.

I win. 

People try to rush to me but I put up a force field. Suddenly a burning anger comes through me and I want to run out of here as fast as possible. I hold my side and stumble out not forgetting to take the bidding money that I won. 

I take in the alley smell and I feel better. Then blackness. 

------

My head pounds but my side feels better. It’s still too bright to see where I am but it looks like the Bunkers dungeon. I try to itch my nose but my chained hands can’t reach my face. Finally, I come to see Sam, Dean, and Cass sitting in front of me. 

“Guys, I can explain-.” I start but get a splash of holy water on my face. “Great.” Sam cuts my upper arm with a silver knife. I hiss in pain but other than that nothing. “I’m not a demon or a shapeshifter.”

“You're a witch.” Dean states darkly. 

“So you put my in chains?”

“We had no choice. We saw the fight. How you threw that woman across the ring. Very powerful magic you're using there.” Dean starts circling me while Sam stares with disappointment.

“You think I killed people?” 

“It’s leading you to it.” 

“Can I get out of these chains? I’ll tell you everything.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Dean please-”

“Why should we listen to you?”

“Because I’m still me.”

“That’s not what Cass says. That’s not what we saw tonight. What are you?”

I swallow down tears, “You think I’m a monster?”

“Dean.” Sam stops, “we don’t think that. We just want to know why you did it.”

“I didn’t kill people.” I glare. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You both would freak out, thinking I’m a monster, you wouldn’t listen to me-”

“Because we don’t listen to witches. What? Did Crowley do this to you?” Dean snaps

“Two hunts ago when we were hunting “Witches”-who were actually inhumans-there was a mishap in the suspect's house. They had this gem and they threw it at me. I caught it and I started turning into stone. I was too scared to scream and I thought this is it. But I broke away from it. Stone went everywhere and different colored mists glowed from my body-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asks, now sorry. 

I lift up the chains on my hands and they fall off, and the one on my neck. “I would never hurt those people.” Deans gun is now pointing in my direction, “Dean I'll show you.” I hold out my hand and show a blue mist. “I think it’s actual magic. I have even more proof on what’s happening if you let me show you.”

“How can we cure you?” Dean asks 

“Dean.” Sam glares, “This is exactly what happened to me when I kinda-”

“Yeah. I know.”

“It’s been happening a lot now. It’s on the news all the time and they are everywhere-”

Dean pulls me into a hug, and I hug him back. I stepped out of the demon's trap.