#its funny cause i can needle felt art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years ago

Text

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

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

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys.

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought.

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected.

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second.

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…"

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real."

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.”

That did make Remus feel better, actually.

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey.

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.”

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

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

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning.

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself.

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly.

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.”

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

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

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well.

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was.

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road.

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully.

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

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

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons.

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence.

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following.

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too.

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor.

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course."

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead.

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said.

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor.

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

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

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man.

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer.

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex.

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once."

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know."

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?"

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!"

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call."

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary.

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him.

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs.

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist.

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out.

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body.

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused.

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails."

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul.

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space.

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

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

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up.

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people.

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow.

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb?

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off.

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself.

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

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

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after;

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!”

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

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

Case 8: the innocent.

And then:

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.”

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

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

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside.

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

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

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself.

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.”

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it."

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

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

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game.

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

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

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

#my writing #sanders sides #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #(others are mentioned)#deityfucker au #death tw #violence tw #crime tw #weapon tw #swearing tw #injury tw #(lots of warnings for this one. take care!)

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venusxxlangdon · 5 years ago

Text

Michael Langdon x reader x Roman Godfrey headcanons

warnings: polyamory, smut, double penetration, oral, edging, mentioning of blood and face fucking, cum eating, daddy kink, soft dominance

words: 5.2k

A/N: thank you guys for 1.1k followers, here are some hcs for one of my favorite pairings. Some of y’all’s asks have been answered here as well. Honorable mention of @micheallangdons who plotted these hcs with me

moodboard by @micheallangdons

Before Roman met Michael and Y/N his life as a newly born upir had been nothing but an endless battle with his demonic nature. Days full of self-loathing and helpless attempts to tame his hunger had gone by before he gave up and quenched his thirst for blood, much to his mother’s triumph. She was so proud of him while he felt nothing but utter disgust and a deep abyss in his heart. Her praise seemed nothing but mockery. She could dance on his bones and still preach about her good intentions.

He did not want to admit that she had won the battle. Roman felt like he was falling deeper into the dark void. Was he going to spend the rest of his life like that? Abandoned and scared of hurting everyone he knew? These questions kept him wide awake in the middle of the silver nights and made him drown his sorrows in cognac and cigarette smoke.

He felt like an addict, storming from one bar into another, looking for hookers to feed on and then sending his people to hide the victims’ bodies. Eventually, it all turned into a regular routine and he mastered the art of draining every drop of blood from humans necks without even staining his always perfectly ironed shirts. He decided that if he turned into a stone-cold machine with no feelings and the slightest idea of attachment he would feel better. Having focused on his parents' empire, the Godfrey Institute, he became a business tycoon: ambitions, cunning, manipulating. Unfortunately, it was calm before the storm. His mother always knew what buttons to push to make him snap and lose the strings of control over his ruthless guise.

It was the night when everything went downhill. Blood was hammering in his temples, fingers gripped onto the sterling weel as he was driving to a familiar location, a bar where he was a frequent visitor. A passing car flashed the headlights, illuminating Roman’s jet black eyes. The usual forest green hues with bluish spots were swallowed up by the unbearable hunger. He could feel the roof of his mouth starting to itch, his heart beating faster.

Factitious self-control wafted around his tall figure when he entered the club. He looked out of place dressed in his black dress shirt and matching tailored slacks, the look on his face intense like an upcoming thunder, electrifying in the thick air.

Something felt different at that time. His nostrils flared, breathing in the mix of expensive alcohol and smoke. He looked around scanning through the crowd of dancing bodies. It felt like hundreds of needles were piercing through the tips of his fingers; he gulped heavily, listening to the sound of crimson blood flowing through the people’s veins. There was something else. Something he could not quite catch. It was seeping through his fingers making it difficult for him to get a hold of it. He turned around on his heels, ignoring a confused look some girl shot at him and froze to his spot. What if his hunger caused these fantom feelings? The sensation became stronger. Godfrey turned his head in the direction of the far left corner of the spacious room. Something about it drew him closer to a big leather sofa where there was someone whom Roman had met before.

“Michael Langdon,” he breathed out, a bit too surprised. It was funny how he had not recognized his vibe immediately. They had met only once but it was something Godfrey would never forget. The blonde Antichrist had the most unique, alluring aura that would suffocate you if you did not know how to handle it. Even for Roman, who was only half-human, it was quite a challenge.

Michael was splayed out on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Godfrey mentally rolled his eyes at the Antichrist’s outfit, ever so extravagant: a navy blue velvet dinner jacket paired with a white shirt, his neck adorned with a big burgundy bow made of the finest silk. Long, luscious locks flowed down his shoulders, curling slightly on its end. Two blue sapphires of his eyes were narrowed, studying Roman’s figure curiously. Godfrey would never admit it, but he felt very uncomfortable under Michael’s mischievous gaze. He instinctively wanted to straighten his back to look more confident, to show Langdon who was the boss. But the pretentious smirk ghosting over Michael’s lips indicated that the Antichrist could care less about the boy’s attempt to look powerful.

“Enjoying the evening, Mr. Godfrey?” He took a sip and swiped the tip of his pointed tongue over the corner of his mouth. Michael cocked his eyebrow at Roman, clearly being aware of the upir’s hunger.

“Quite a lot,” Roman sneered and moved his gaze at the girl sitting next to Langdon with her legs that were barely covered with a short dress hooked over his lap. She was looking at Roman through the thick fan of long dark lashes framing her eyes beautifully. There was something detached in the youthful beauty of her blush and a shy smile painting her lips. For some reason Godfrey found himself embarrassed and even looked away, meeting the mocking stare of Michael’s blue eyes.

“Care for a drink?” He asked, swirling the glass in his long fingers, the metal of his rings clicking against the cut. “You look...thirsty.”

Roman gritted his teeth, the sinew on his neck pulsing.

“How sweet that it’s the matter of your concern,” he muttered, still eyeing the girl from the corner of his eyes. She smiled and hid her face in the crook of Michael’s neck, her fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt. She braced one of her slender arms around his neck and brought her face to his ear.

“What was that, kitten?” Roman clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the pet name, suddenly feeling out of place. He looked around, searching for a new victim. He spotted a girl who was sitting alone at the bar and thought that she could be a nice option. Y/N’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“He’s the one,” she whispered in Michael’s ear, but it was audible enough for Roman’s hearing to catch it. He snapped his eyes back at her, noticing that she was looking at him again. Whatever she had meant, it was something that did not make Michael happy. He shifted in his seat and put the glass aside on the table.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he asked, the threads of concern lacing into the tone of his voice. He gently took her chin between his thumb and index finger, slightly turning it to the side. “You can have anybody...think twice, sweetheart.”

Roman felt as if he had become an unwilling witness of something he could wish to have never seen. It all felt too intimate. He coughed and adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, wondering why he was still standing there. It seemed like the girl’s heavy gaze pinned him to the floor. Michael was frowning, tapping his fingers against the knee impatiently.

“Well, if you excuse me...” Godfrey started awkwardly and shoved his palms into the pockets of his slack, brushing his thumbs over the fabric. The girl was still whispering something into Michael’s ear. He looked so concentrated that for a second Roman thought that Langdon would not even notice if he left. God knew how long he had been standing there like a fool before Langdon finally spoke to him.

“Why don’t you join us, Roman?” He suddenly offered, and the girl giggled, playing with the blonde strand of Michael’s hair. Roman watched her twist the silky locks around her fingers and let them cascade down Langdon’s shoulders. He licked his lips nervously. “I believe I haven’t introduced you to the love of my love yet, and I’m dying to fix this little omission.”

The corners of Roman’s lips twitched in amusement.

“I’m a busy man, Mr. Langdon,” he shrugged, ignoring the fact that Michael had addressed him on the first-name basis. “Hence I’m afraid we won’t have time to discuss the latest gossips.” He noticed the way the girl’s face sulked and how she slightly pushed her bottom lip forward in a pitiful pout. For the reason unknown to him, his heart swelled and suddenly he wanted to do anything to erase the sad expression off her doll face. “But I’ll be more than glad to get introduced to a beautiful lady next to you.”

She smiled and extended her hand to him which he eagerly accepted, slightly squeezing her fingers. Her palm was soft, it felt like his large hands were wrapped in the finest, pearly silk. His whole body jolted up as soon as he touched her. A shiver ran down his spine, and he looked at her with wide eyes. By the devilish sparks in her eyes, he knew she had felt it too.

“Y/N,” She said, and her voice turned out to be much lower than he had expected. “Y/N, Y/L/N.”

He smiled back and bent forward at the waist to bring his face closer to her hand and leave a quick kiss on her delicate skin.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m Roman Godfrey, a CEO of the Godfrey Institute,” he answered proudly.

It was the beginning of something bigger than him, bigger than all of them.

A quick conversation with Langdon and his little pet, that was how Roman referred to the girl in his head, had managed to distract him from his hunger only for a short time. Soon enough he found himself apologizing for having to leave so soon.

He did not waste any time when grabbing the girl he had spotted earlier by the elbow and dragging her out of the club. Luckily she was way too drunk to care. He flashed his best smile at her, and she followed him to the car, giggling every time she stumbled on her heels.

Roman did not pay any attention when she put her hands on his crotch and tried to rub him through the fabric of his slacks, his eyes focused on the road. He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the sudden tremor in his body. He was seconds away from stopping the car and sinking his teeth into the girl’s neck. She smelled like vodka and a subtle hint of her fruity perfume. He turned his head at her and she whimpered at the animalistic gaze of his now onyx eyes.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled, and suddenly her face turned into sharp features of Michael Langdon. Roman almost instantly hit the brakes.

“You look thirsty,” Langdon mocked. Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty, thirsty echoed in Roman’s head, and as he pressed his head into the back of his seat, Michael’s face got distorted into a smirking grimace. What the fuck? Beads of sweat covered Godfrey’s forehead.

“Get out!” He yelled and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw a confused face of the girl who had instantly sobered up from his cry. She was looking at him with her big eyes resembling a fish, and at that moment all he wanted her to do was to leave him alone.

“What?” She asked, adjusting the straps of her dress to let him see a full view of her cleavage. He rolled his eyes.

“You heard me,” he hissed. “Get. The fuck. Out.” He did not care if she had to walk alone in the dark.

Roman drove his way home in silence, hungry and frustrated. He slammed the door of his car shut and stormed into a big mansion. Numerous thoughts were buzzing in his head like a swarm of bees. He headed straight to the shower, hoping that it could help him clear his mind.

He was too tired and tense to care about anything but the burning ache in his bones. Roman let out an inhuman cry when the streams of hot water hit his shoulder blades. He wished they could wash every cell of his disgusting being off the face of the earth. He hugged himself and dug his fingers into his skin as if he was going to rip it off. His plump bottom lip was trembling as he let his anger unwind. He didn’t want any of this, any of this life. He hit the wall with the fist and rested his forehead against the cool tile, sobbing brokenly. Fucking hell.

When he finally crawled out of the shower and reached for the towel to wrap it around his hips, he suddenly got glued to the spot. His nostrils flared. The waves of very powerful energy waged over him bringing the feeling of deja vu. His stomach did a flip at the thought that he was not alone in his mansion and what was even worse — his intuition knew the names of the intruders. Roman did not even care to dress up before he left the bathroom and made his way into his bedroom. His heart skipped a beat when he heard two low voices behind the closed door. No, it could not be true. He wrapped his fingers around the knob and turned his wrist to the left, pushing the door open with his hip.

Frankly speaking, now when he thinks about what happened that night, Roman is thankful that he did not kill Langdon and Y/N the second he saw them sitting on his bed. He remembers the shock and confusion. He thought he was hallucinating.

Langdon took his time to explain why they were in his bedroom while Roman was standing before them with his eyes wide open and his whole body unable to move. Y/N had been having the same dream over and over again: she was saving a young man from something she could not explain. The only thing she knew was that they needed to find him. Michael had never been into charity but he was ready to indulge the wish of the love of his life. Little had he known thar eventually she’d come to him and say that the stranger should have become a part of their relationship. Well, that was too much.

Michael did not understand the urge. Possessive by nature, he was not going to share her with anyone. “I’m not a fucking saint,” he shouted in her face while she was looking at him with her eyes full of tears.”And I’m definitely not a fool.”

They had spent days fighting over that matter until she won. Langdon did not know what exactly made him change his mind: the sadnesses that flooded his lover’s mind and became unbearable for him to handle or the unknown force within himself.

“Let’s see who’s the one needing our help first,” he said through gritted teeth, secretly hoping that Y/N would drop that idea soon enough.

To find out that it was Roman Godfrey being the one in need of help was similar to being punched in the face. When he and Y/N were following the upir on his way home, Langdon tried to do his best to talk her into choosing someone else.

“He’s in pain,” she begged, turning her head at him, “don’t you feel it, Michael? I know you’re aware of how torturous his hunger is.”

“And why should I care?”

“Because I do,” she protectively crossed her arms, “and you care about me. He’s special, Michael. He needs help.”

“Fuck, remind me to ask my father why he chose a fucking angel as my eternal partner,” Langdon rolled his eyes and sped up the car.

He did not believe that any of them would ever turn this into a relationship. He was sure that Y/N would drop the idea as soon as she would see how fucked up Godfrey was. He refused to admit that at that moment jealousy was boiling in every fiber of his body.

When Roman started spitting the curses out, and the subtle hint of doubt sparked in Y/N’s eyes, Michael was celebrating his triumph. However, his content didn’t last. Y/N had this weird talent of persuading people, and eventually, both men fell victims to her charm.

Neither of them knew how to act. Michael couldn’t overcome the feeling of disdain he felt toward the younger boy and he was determined to treat him as such until he would prove that he was worthy of his respect.

On the other hand, Roman didn’t understand why she had to “win” anyone’s trust when it was Langdon and Y/N who had broken into his house and decided to make him “a proud member of their relationship”.

“You two,” he pointed his finger at them, “are fucking insane.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done anything worse than this,” Michael scoffed, “I’m sure impregnating Letha was far less moral”

Those words nearly brought the entire venture to its end.

Roman realized that he really needed help, Langdon’s help, when the Antichrist had soothed his thirst for blood. Using his magic, Michael subsided Godfrey’s desire to kill and for the first time in what it seemed like forever, the upir could breathe.

Y/N made him believe that his kindhearted human nature was still within him. Of course, it took her months to persuade Roman, but the result was worth it. He desperately wanted to be good. All those sleepless nights he had been punishing himself for his victims were gone, and finally, he found someone who could turn him to the light. Well, technically they had found him.

Funny, how salvation came from the Antichrist and his lover. They moved from Roman treating the affair among the three of them as just sex to a deep, serious commitment.

It took Roman a lot of time to realize that he wasn’t alone anymore. The three of them took care of each other.

The turning point happened when Roman had another breakdown. He had been dealing with his hunger relatively good thanks to Michael and Y/N’s influence, but then he went on a business trip and just snapped.

He rested his head in his hands, trying to keep breathing, but it felt like the air had suddenly got thicker. He rushed to a small fridge in his hotel room, looking for a bag of blood that he had stored in case of emergency, but the shelves were empty. He growled in frustration, his senses becoming more acute. His thirst, an obsession with blood, always put him in a weird, dizzy state where he could barely control himself. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. A white fog covered his eyes and enveloped his brain like a thick blanket. He couldn’t think straight.

“Heeeeelp!!” A loud, animalistic scream of a man he was holding in his arms, pulled him out of the trance. Godfrey opened his eyes and faced the dreadful look on the poor man’s face. He had no idea who it was and how he ended up there, in a dark alley far from anyone’s eyes. He tossed the man’s body aside like a useless puppet and looked at his hands covered in blood.

“What are you?” He snapped his head at the man who was on his hands and knees, looking terrified. Roman inhaled sharply, his body trembling as if he had a fever.

“You better fucking run,” he managed to bark. Panic rose inside of him like a tsunami, flooding his mind with a bitter aftertaste of fear and despair. He was scared of himself. He instinctively reached for the phone in the back pocket of his jeans and pressed one button of a speed dial. Please, pick up the phone, please, pick up the-

“Yes?” A familiar soothing baritone responded.

“Langdon, please...” Godfrey sobbed, feeling ashamed of his weakness. He fell to his knees against the dirty stone wall and squeezed his eyes tightly, but it didn’t prevent a couple of crystal tears from falling down his sharp cheekbones. “Help me, I’m begging you, Langdon.”

Michael did not need any explanation.

“Think of the place where you are at now,” when he spoke his voice was ringing with ice and calmness. Roman let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll come get you.”

“Okay,” he whispered and concentrated on the scenery he needed Michael to see.

Langdon was there in no time.

Something about Y/N kept Roman glued to her. Maybe this nagging feeling in his chest was aroused by the radiant warmth that surrounded her like a halo. “How does she even handle you, Langdon?” He once teased Michael.

The dynamic between her and the Antichrist was amusing as well. Roman did not like to admit it but he had been fascinated by Michael’s protectiveness over her since that time when he met them at the club. He thought that such a delicate flower as Y/N deserved nothing but the most careful guidance.

“Is she your little girl?” He asked, folding his hands over his chest and watching Y/N make her way toward Langdon and taking her seat on his lap, wrapping her arms around Michael’s shoulder.

“She’s my girl,” the blonde man answered, his palm cupping her bum and gently squeezing through a flimsy fabric of her dress, “but she’s not little. She does need me to take control when we’re intimate, but it’s never about age regression.”

Dominant by nature, Roman wanted to take care of the gorgeous girl, sitting on Michael’s lap, too. He missed the moment when he had started dreaming about her calling him daddy and letting him touch her wherever he wanted. He desired to learn every inch of her body because Michael seemed to had known where to touch, pet, and lick in order to turn her into a pliant mess.

She looked angelic in her pink and white set, her body splayed out on the expensive sheets, hair tossed around her head as Michael worked his tongue between her parted thighs (her panties were pulled aside), making her tug on his blonde locks and moan his name out loud.

“You need to earn the privilege to make her feel this good, puppy,” Langdon said, using the back of his palm to wipe Y/N’s cum off his full, glistening lips, looking extremely pleased with himself.

And Roman did. He was a bit rougher than Michael at times due to his impatience and youthful maximalism which worked perfectly in tandem with Langdon’s soft dominance. Secretly, he thrived off of bossing Roman around and telling him what to do. He loved holding the younger boy by his neck and burying his face between Y/N’s legs, making him feast on her pussy.

“Good boy,” Michael mused, letting go off of his grip. Roman was panting heavily when he pulled away from her throbbing core. He inhaled sharply and his body jolted forward back to her center when Langdon slid his hands down the younger boy’s torso, encouraging him to continue.

Godfrey found himself addicted to this romance. The obvious competition for Y/N’s attention was making his blood boil but it was different from what his hunger had been making him feel. Ardor electrified every sense in his body and made him feel alive.

She indulged his panty kink like nobody else. Y/N always wore the pretties undergarments, and to pull her panties down and off her legs with his teeth was Roman’s favorite thing to do. He loved dragging the lacy piece down while looking her in the eyes, making her watch his every move. She looked the prettiest when lying against Michael’s chest, while the blonde man was playing with her nipples, caressing them with featherlight touches.

Roman often found himself in a reverse position: blindfolded and gagged with her lacy thong. “Keep riding him, doll,” he moaned at Michael’s command and the increased pace of Y/N’s hips moving in sync with his hammering heartbeat.

Thanks to Michael and his training, Roman became more patient and grew to enjoy edging their girl for hours. He and Michael would have her on her back, hands and legs bound to the bed and with a vibrator pressed against her clit. She looked ethereal, all desperate for his and Langdon’s cocks. The delicious stretch that both cocks made her feel was indescribable. She felt so, so full and worked up, but most importantly — she felt safe and taken care of.

Sometimes, as a part of her punishment, they would not let her cum for days. Prohibited to touch herself, she was suffering from the overwhelming arousal flooding her body. She’d try to clench her thighs, to rub herself against the armrests of Michael’s chair, to hump her pillow, but it seemed like the two men always knew what she was up to. They were always there to hush her and remind that if she continued “acting like a bratty slut” they’d have to extend the period of punishment. Godfrey and Langdon knew what buttons to push. One day when she was on her third day of edging, Roman came up to her when she was washing the dishes and slowly started peppering her neck with kisses. Being impossibly horny, she instantly leaned into his touch, hoping that her punishment was over. He fingered her until she turned into a whimpering, pleading mess, begging his to free his cock that she could feel against her ass from the confines of his slacks and fuck her right there on the kitchen counter. But the upir only laughed and pulled his hand out of her panties, leaving her on the verge of tears, wanting more.

Langdon loved eating her from behind while she was on her knees before Roman and sucking his cock, letting the mix of his precum and her saliva drip down her chin and breasts. She would cup the two mounds in her palms and smear the liquid all over her nipples, twisting and rolling them between her fingers. She could feel Michael’s hair brushing over her thighs every time he brought his mouth to her center to bury his tongue into her heat.

The men loved spoiling their girl. Her closet was full of the most beautiful designer dresses and the prettiest underwear. Roman adored when she put on a little show for them every time they’d buy something for her.

“Sit back and enjoy, daddies,” she’d tell them, and Michael and Roman would wait for her to come out of the bathroom in the new see-through set adorned with ruffles and pearls that matched her angelic personality but also showed off her spicy, devilish side. They nearly choked on their whiskey when she took a couple of elegant strides toward them and bent over to demonstrate how deliciously the sheer fabric of the panties hugged her bum, a purple jewel of a butt plug poking through the lace.

Michael’s blood ritual was something Roman always looked forward to. The first time he witnessed it, the younger boy thought he was going to lose his mind from how erotic it looked. That was when he tasted Langdon’s blood. His silver tongue glided over the Antichrist’s smooth, porcelain skin, leaving burning imprints in its wake. Michael’s chanting in Latin was mixing with the sound of Y/N’s moans and the obscene slapping of Langdon’s flesh against her thighs. The men’s eyes were as dark as cosmos, illuminated by the light radiating from the candles that were put in a circle around their entwined bodies. There were no green and blue, only dark, deep emptiness of the supernatural creatures.

Michael know what big stress the ritual was for Y/N, thus he always made sure to take care of her afterwards, and Roman was always there to help. They’d carry her upstairs and run her a bath.

Speaking of bathing together, Godfrey loved when she rode him and Michael in the tub. The used a water-based lube, so it would not be uncomfortable for all of them. Plus, doing anal in the tub where everything was nice and clean was a lot easier. Roman adored the view of her breasts bouncing before his face as she kept moving on his length up and down, her wet hair clinging to her face.

Aftercare was the most important thing after making Y/N cum, of course. Especially if sex was rougher than usual. Sometimes the mood would strike for forceful face fucking, slaps across her tender cheeks and a cum shot all over her pretty face, but Roman and Michael always made sure to tell her how good she was for them.

“We’re so proud of you,” Langdon whispered against her cum-stained lips, and she smiled so wide, feeling happy and satisfied with how she had taken him and Roman. Every inch of her body was sore, muscles burned from overstimulation, but the pleasure that had come beforehand was worth it. She could still feel the mix of Michael’s and Roman’s cum seeping out of her, so she indulged the temptation to snake her hand between her legs to collect the pearly essence and lick it all clean.

When it was getting darker the following scene was very common for their mansion: Y/N was curled up on Roman’s lap while he was absentmindedly playing with her hair, threading his fingers through the soft strands. Michael usually worked till his eyes would get tired, so after a while, Godfrey and Y/N came up with an idea of how to get the Antichrist’s attention. Roman wouldn’t take his eyes off the tv as he slowly dragged his palm down her body and rested it on her thigh, his fingers barely swiping over the hem of her pj shorts. She looked up at him and shifted a bit, pressing her body against his torso. Roman toyed with a little bow on her waistband and slightly pulled the ribbon to untie it and slip his fingers under it, frowning when he touched the fabric of her panties. He looked down at her and mouthed “Why are you wearing them?” She shrugged and smiled, her breath was already uneven and heavy. She had to bite her knuckles to suppress a needy whimper threatening to fall from her lips. She wriggled her bum and parted her legs, letting Roman properly touch her. He cupped her pussy in his palm, outstretching the fabric of her already wet panties and shorts, starting to massaging her clit in slow, lazy circles.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Michael said in a sing-song tone, making Y/N nearly jump out of her skin. She looked at him with her eyes wide open and instinctively covered Godfrey’s hand between her thighs with her palm.

“Get back to work, Michael,” Roman mewled, ignoring Y/N’s attempts to close her legs. He smeared her arousal all over her folds, earning a loud gasp from her.

“It’s hard to concentrate when I can fucking smell her,” Michael drawled, gripping on the pen with such force that he nearly broke it.

So yeah, Roman’s plan always worked.

They loved traveling together. Eating fresh croissants in France, tasting every sort of pizza in Italy, buying the best vine in Spain, and walking down the narrow street in Monaco. Even though Roman and Michael were busy they always found time to take their girl, who looked good in white summer dresses, with her skin glowing and lips dripping with juices of ripe fruits, somewhere nice.

tagging those who expressed their interest in this pairing: @divinelangdon @littledemondani @ms-mead @emmyrosee @mega-combusken @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly @michaelsrighthand @hecohansen31 @1-800-bitchcraft @saturngirlz @desidia-1 @langdonsdemon @kaigitana @peachesandfern @livanka @lovelylangdonx

#michael langdon smut #roman godfrey smut #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon x reader #antichristdaddy #Michael x Roman x reader

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

Text

Double the Bites, Double the Heroes

Summary: Sophie and Minnie go on a field trip to a spider exhibit that changes their lives forever...

Word Count: 2425

Read on AO3:

“Oh!” Sophie’s mouth fell open as she looked around the room with wide eyes. “I didn’t know there were so many different spiders!”

“It’s crazy,” Minnie pulled Sophie back to make sure she didn’t get sidetracked and fall behind their class. Minnie couldn’t blame her sister though; Sophie just wanted to explore all the different exhibits. For their twelve year old minds, this was just about the coolest thing. The twins’ eyes kept wandering all around the room while the tour guide continued to talk about the Jumping spider.

“The Jumping spiders are in the family Salticidae. They have some of the best vision out of all spiders,” The tour guide moved aside so the kids could gather around and check out the spider. Some of them oohed and aahhed, clearly impressed by the spiders while some were more uncomfortable by the spiders and their multiple eyes. “They use their jumps for hunting, navigation and even courtship.” Some of the boys laughed at the last part. The twins tried to push forward to get a better look at the spider. It was a cool spider: light brown, it looked super fuzzy while its beady black eyes looked around at the onlookers. The tour guide moved onward to continue to the next spiders. The teacher pushed forward some of the kids that lingered to ensure they wouldn’t get left behind. “Next we have the Cellar spider, but they are better known as Daddy Long Legs,”

Justin, a boy with dark brown hair let out a snort and whispered to the boy next to him, Steve, though he made it loud enough for the twins to hear.

“I bet Minerva and Sophie would be those spiders cause of their long legs... and they’re totally lame,”

Minnie and Sophie glared at him when he looked back at them with a smirk. Both of them stuck their tongues out. After a while the teacher stepped forward and let the class know that they could wander this one room and take a look around at the many different spiders. Sophie immediately grabbed Minnie’s hand and the pair went off to explore. There were so many different types of spiders. Large, hairy spiders like tarantulas seemed to be active in their habitats, scurrying around while some others like Wolf and Recluse spiders seemed perfectly content chilling and waiting for the people to leave.

“Whoa!” Sophie pressed her face close to the glass. “This one looks cool!”

Minnie walked over, curious what spider had piqued her sister’s interest.

The spider was not super big but not too tiny either. Its black and white legs moved around with a mesmerizing movement while it made a brand new web. It had a dark brown back with different shapes and sizes of white splotches on its back.

“It looks like a mushroom,” Sophie turned to look over at Minnie when suddenly her stomach gurgled. Sophie clutched it with embarrassment. “Man, I can’t wait for lunch. It’s pizza day!” Sophie’s mouth was practically drooling at the thought.

Minnie walked over to the plaque in front of the exhibit that gave a short explanation of the spider. “It says here that the Shamrock spider makes a new web each day and that sometimes it hides in leaves and waits for the web thread they made to move to signal if an insect is nearby. Sophie looked impressed by that. “That’s amazing!” Sophie turned back just in time to see the spider patter over to its leaf hideout.

“Come on Soph, I wanna see some more spiders,” Minnie pulled on Sophie’s arm who reluctantly left her new mushroom spider friend. After a few more exhibits where neither twin seemed intrigued, they stopped by the Lynx spider.

Minnie’s eyes danced with excitement for this particular arachnid. She liked the way its legs looked super prickly with defined black lines on the inner parts. Its eyes almost seemed to blend into its face. The tiny, dark beads stared at Minnie with the same curiosity that she did when she looked at it.

“You like this one, Minnie?” Sophie’s voice drew Minnie’s focus away for a second.

“Yeah, it looks cool. Also...” Minnie pointed to the spider, “It looks like it has little boxer gloves,” Sophie squinted to where her sister had pointed. Her eyes grew large when she saw them.“Whoa!”

Minnie moved over to read some more about it. “It uses silk to protect its eggs and it says it attacks like a cat and pounces on its prey and stalks them.” Each fact made Minnie like the spider even more. The twins were going to go back to the Shamrock Spider one more time before returning to the Lynx spider, but the teacher was calling for them to join the others. Reluctantly the twins started to walk over.

“Who knew spiders were this awesome?” Sophie looked over at Minnie with a huge smile that disappeared when she saw the scared look in Minnie’s eyes. “What?”

“Don’t freak out, but there’s a spider on your nose,” Minnie whispered, inching towards her sister.

“What? How-” Sophie was lifting her hand to check, freezing when she saw a spider on Minnie’s neck. “Minnie, there’s one on your neck too!”

Minnie’s eyes widened as she froze. “Ok, let’s hit the spiders on each other’s face on the count of three.”

“Yeah, to sneak attack them before they bite us,” Sophie slowly nodded.

“Exactly,” Minnie gave a shaky smile. “Ok, one….” she lifted up her hand, carefully positioning it to strike her twin’s nose.

“Two…” Sophie inched her hand towards the right spot.

“Three!” The twins shouted in unison and swung out their hands to hit the spiders. Their moves landed, squashing the spiders but not before each could let out one final bite in retaliation. Both twins swayed back, from the bite or hit they weren’t sure.

Justin snorted as he watched the scene play out. “Man, those twins are such freaks,” He motioned over to the sisters who were not reacting very well to their less than thorough plan.

“Owwww,” Sophie clutched her nose, flailing about with one of her arms. Her legs were failing her. Minnie let out a grunt while she held the side of her neck, rotating it to try and get the pain to stop.

“You two,” The teacher huffed while she made her way over. “Just what is going on?”

The twins looked up. Before they could respond they fell over unconscious, their bodies hitting the floor.

------

Minnie felt her head pounding. It felt like needles pricking the inside of her head. “Ugggh,” she slowly sat up when she remembered something. “Sophie!” The memories were starting to catch up with her. Sophie had looked like she was in a lot of pain when Minnie’s hand whacked her nose.

“Minnie!?!” Sophie looked up from her spot in the room. Where were they? It looked like a nurse’s office. Sophie let out a sigh of relief when she saw that Minnie was okay. “I thought my hit knocked you out or worse. Y’know there’s some point in the neck that can really hurt someone if you hit it, right?”

“I’m fine,” Minnie lifted her hand to feel her neck. The spider bite was now covered with a piece of white gauze. She looked over and saw a large piece of gauze over Sophie’s nose. Minnie started to chuckle, causing her twin to look confused before she picked up on why she was laughing.

“Hey, my nose doesn’t look that stupid,” Sophie crossed her arms but soon started to chuckle as well. “Your neck looks funny too,”

The twins continued to laugh until the door creaked open revealing their parents who had been called in. Matthew and Walter looked absolutely terrified for their daughters’ health, their hands intertwined as their eyes searched the room before they found Minnie and Sophie, safe and sound. Both of them let out deep sighs of relief before wrapping the twins in their arms.

“When I got the call I was worried, but it seems like the spiders that bit you weren’t poisonous,” Walter whispered, thankful for that fact.

“That sure was lucky. But we’re still gonna take you home for now. The field trip ended a while ago.” Matthew added, pulling back and giving Minnie and Sophie a warm smile.

Sophie and Minnie’s faces fell. They were really enjoying that field trip. Plus Sophie was excited for the cheesy deliciousness that was pizza. But there was nothing that they could do. So they went home for the day and immediately fell asleep, counting their blessings that tomorrow was a Saturday.

-----

As soon as Sophie woke up, her nose was super itchy. She tried to resist the urge to scratch it, but it was so overwhelming. It was only when she suddenly felt extremely twitchy that she was able to distract herself, but that wasn’t great either. It really messed with her art time. Her sketches were constantly getting messed up when her hands began to twitch. Letting out a frustrated groan, she closed her eyes and fell backwards onto the couch only for her senses to feel like they were overloading. Every sense felt like it was trying to dominate her body for control. Every sound became louder. Whenever her parents strolled in she would flinch and spin around. Why is this happening? Maybe the spider was poisonous!!! Sophie snuck onto the computer to look up the Shamrock spider since that was the one that they said they found splattered across her nose. After a few minutes of research it was obvious that they weren’t poisonous to humans. Sophie groaned and shook her hand angrily at the overwhelming sensation that was plaguing her body. Suddenly a white, sticky substance shot out of her wrist and onto the computer screen. Sophie held back a surprised yelp as she struggled to get the sticky web off. Why is this happening? Sophie tried to fling off the web from her hand, but it refused. I gotta find Minnie!

-----

Minnie felt like she was sore all over but it felt strongest in her neck. She tried to roll her head cause she heard that that sometimes helped her mom when she felt stressed. When she placed her hand on her neck though she flinched in pain. Pulling back her hand, she looked closely at it. There on her fingers were tiny, minuscule bristles. They looked like what was on that Lynx spider. Minnie felt herself shake; her body felt like it was overheating. Rubbing her fingers together, she felt the bristles scratch against each other. I have to find Sophie!

-----

Sophie found Minnie in their room on top of her bunk bed. Her eyes widened when she saw her twin.

“Soph,” Minnie tried to move her hands that were on the metal safety railing but whenever she tried they refused to budge. “I think that spider bite did something to me,” Minnie looked terrified; it was obvious that her nerves were overwhelming her.

“I think my spider bite did something too! I’ve been twitchy and not the math type of twitchy before a test!” Sophie rubbed her hands together to try and calm herself down. She let out a surprised gasp when her hands became filled with sticky white spider webs. They were practically oozing from her fingertips. “Aaaah!” Sophie shook her hands to try and get the substance off but only ended up shooting a web out and knocking over her superhero figurine. “No!” Sophie cried.

Minnie attempted to release her grip and grab the figurine but it was too late. With a crash the figurine’s head flew off. Hurried footsteps and a quick knock on the door drew the twins’ attention.

“Are you two alright in there?” Walter called out from behind the door.

“I was just overly excited and knocked over one of my toys,” Sophie hoped her voice didn’t sound as scared as she did.

Luckily it seemed to have calmed down Walter and after some more reassurance he left to finish the movie he was watching with Matthew. Sophie ran over to wipe her hands and help Minnie only for the weblike matter to stick to her pants. Her hands were firmly placed on her hips now.

The twins shared a concerned look.

“It’s okay, we just have to calm down,” Minnie started to take a slow, steady breath which her sister followed. Suddenly Minnie’s hands were free from the railing. She looked at her hands gleefully before jumping down with ease onto the floor.

Sophie was surprised by that. “How did that not hurt you?”

Minnie looked just as confused and surprised . “I don’t know, but for now let’s get you free,”

It took nearly an hour to get Sophie’s hands free from her hips. The twins sat on the floor, feeling absolutely exhausted and overwhelmed by what had just happened.

-----

A few days passed and the twins had been extremely cautious with whatever they did. But even with their caution it seemed they only partially tempered the mistakes from their newfound spider powers. Their bodies were still way too worn out from whatever had entered their bloodstreams so on Monday their parents had called the school to let them know that they wouldn’t make it to class.

Minnie stood by the wall, her hand stuck to the doorway. Sophie walked forward with a plate with a sandwich on it. Her hands were glued to the plate.

“This sucks,” Minnie grumbled. She knew she needed to calm down, but how was she supposed to when whatever had happened to them would change everything about their daily lives?

“Yeah, it does,” Sophie lifted up the plate and tried her best to bite down at the sandwich. “Maybe it could be good though,”

Minnie quirked an eyebrow “How?”

Sophie had spoken before she had even really come up with an answer. “Ummm, well….” Sophie’s eyes wandered the room until they landed on the cracked superhero figurine. In an instant Sophie was struck with inspiration. “Heroes! We’ll become superheroes!”

Minnie looked shocked but her eyes soon danced with excitement.

Sophie’s eyes matched hers. “We’ll be like the Spidertwins or something! We can use this for good!”

Minnie beamed. “Yeah, this is going to be so cool!” She threw her arms out with excitement only for silky webs to cover both doorways. The twins shared a concerned look. They still had a long way to go before they were going to anything close to heroes.

#twdg #twdg sophie #twdg minnie #twdg matthew #twdg walter #twdg malter #fanfic #spiderverse au

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depressed-sock · 5 years ago

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Statement by a man that can't exist about fears that fear can have.

100% self indulgent writing lmao

Tw: death, stabbing, Stranger centric imagery (think episode 165 revolutions), graphic descriptions, anxiety, allusions to past abuse and queerphobia

Multiple times switching identification between I, we, and he.

Statement Begins:

You don't know who I am. I'd applaud you but I have a feeling you'll be knowing soon enough. And once you know who I am… well there wouldn't be a point to any kind of conversation between us.

So that's why I'm here now. Before there's any chance of you knowing me.

I guess I should start at the beginning but to be honest there's too many beginnings that I'd have to tell. So I guess I'll start with our most recent death.

I can see you're already confused.

(The man gives a bark of laughter.)

You see, I cannot ever have a singular existence. Because for as long as the avatars of fear have existed we too have been there. A quiet presence that sits in the back of their minds. Some of them never truly realize it until it's too late.

What don't they realize, you ask? Well, that deep down behind their little power trips that they can still feel afraid. It's almost funny how many of them think themselves invincible. That there's nothing else out there that will feed off of them but their own gods.

(The man scoffs in response.) If you can truly call them that.

They just don't realize that there exists a fear just for them. A fear made to feed off of them just like how every fear is made to feed off of some poor human.

We are a... specially tailored revenge you could say. We are each and every one of their victims. We are the pain, the fear, the death that each of them have caused.

We are the victim's lost opportunities, the tears from those who mourned their deaths, but most of all I am the victim's rage.

(The man pauses for a second. The sound of fingers tapping on the wooden table is the only thing audible for a few moments.)

Sorry... my head's not fully right anymore and it takes a second for me to get my bearings.

I am supposed to always be us, but… something changed with his death. Maybe it was how he died, maybe it was because for some reason someone did remember him. I'm not entirely sure to be honest.

I just know that I died to multiple entities.

(A soft laugh and an almost inaudible mutter) Because when has my life ever been simple?

I…No. He was a student. Here on a college exchange trip for the purpose of learning more about art history. Pretty boring all things considered with the exception that all he could feel was the anxiety waging a war beneath his skin.

There was no joy about new experiences, no excitement to see things he could only dream of before. Just the constant ache and twisting of his guts every time he so much as tried to think a thought.

It has always had a hold on his heart. And going alone on such a big trip by himself? Well it was worse than he could have predicted. Eating away every bit of courage it had taken to come here.

Fear growing more and more out of his control. Fear of what people saw when they looked at him. Fear of letting his anger lash out at those who purposely hurt him. Fear of death, fear of living.

Worrying endlessly about telling truths vs telling lies. So much chaos inside one body. It really is not a surprise that it drew the attention of many of the fear's Avatars.

His existence was a flickering light in the dark that drew whatever simply looked his way. Such an easy target. Such a delicious meal.

The first to try their hand, surprisingly, was the slaughter. Cornered him in an alleyway way and ran him through with a rusty knife. It probably was hoping it's anger and lust for blood would amplify his own.

He did have so much anger. Just boiling deep down and out of sight. That need to hurt those that hurt him. The need to just hurt to try and feel anything but helpless.

It would have gotten such a good meal from him. Who knows how many he would lash out at, how many became another means to feed the Slaughter.

But it'd left him alone in that alley. Holding tight to that knife embedded in his stomach. It didn't know that another had been hunting him as well.

Easy prey made even easier for a minion of the Stranger.

(A chair creaks, his voice growing louder as if he's moved closer to the tape recorder)

Do you know what it's like to have your entire being, your entire existence slowly torn into pieces?

No?

(A laugh) Of course you don't.

Not even the Stranger knows what that feels like. Only we can ever know that. I could try to explain it but to be honest it'd be a lot like trying to explain pain to a doctor who will never try to understand.

Oh don't give me that look.

You can't believe me because you don't think we can exist anymore. And to be honest we don't blame you. You're right. We victim's of the stranger don't exist in a capacity that can be truly understood because it's been stolen from us.

He can though.

(Another creak of the chair and his voice grows quieter.)

Exist I mean.

At least exist enough that he could try and tell you that it feels like you're slowly being skinned alive. Chunks of your meat and bone are cut out into small squares and rearranged and put into something else… someone else. Your skin slowly stitched on over it, and even though it's not your body anymore you're still able to feel each pierce of the needle. Each pull of the thread.

And all while it's happening, you know your body is still whole. That the only reason there's any blood at all is because you'd just been stabbed. But you're still forced to watch as this thing takes every single bit of you and twists it into something you hate. Something that is so distinctly not you.

It takes everything that made you, you. And makes you into them instead.

(The infliction of his voice changes. Like he's suddenly waking up from a deep sleep. His voice slowly growing stronger with each word.)

It's a fear I'd always had to deal with. Becoming someone else because no one wanted the real me. Forcing me into being whatever was needed to keep some resemblance of peace between me and everyone else.

Maybe that's why, as it took me apart, I felt such an indescribable anger.

It had no right to do this to me. To take away everything I had fought so hard for. It needed to pay for trying to steal those small parts of myself that I had nurtured and cherished.

I don't know if anyone could actually hear my screams, or if maybe it had all been in my head. It wasn't even a scream of fear or pain. It was all my anger thrown into a single action to say that. I. AM. STILL. HERE.

It could never have expected me to have any strength to fight back. I didn't expect me to have the strength to fight back. Guess that's one thing I can thank the slaughter for. Gave me enough energy to take that rusty knife lodged in my stomach and strike out with it.

And I kept striking, kept stabbing. Even when my blood had run from my body and my hands had already begun to grow cold. I remember knowing that the striking red shade of blood that began to cover me was not mine. Not sure if it even was it's blood.

I guess it didn't matter in the end. At some point I'd fallen to the ground beside it. My eyes glued onto the lifeless form of what was supposed to be some hilariously wrong version of me.

I thought my last dying thoughts would be of some kind of inner peace. I'd won. I had made one last stand and it hadn't been for nothing. It couldn't hurt anyone like it hurt me.

I was wrong of course. I remember hearing it's bones crack as it started to move again. Helplessly watching as it picked itself up and became something different.

Shedding away everything it had stolen from me. Like it had never really mattered to it. Like all it had wanted to do was to make me unwhole for its own pleasure.

I don't know what happened to it because I died shortly after from the blood loss. The end had already begun to reach out to claim me, only to have it's hand slapped away like a petulant child.

(Something shifts in his voice again. This time feeling like there's more than just him speaking.)

We had already laid claim. He had already tasted the Stranger's fear even if he had not known it yet. It was such a new experience for us. An avatar that felt fear because of someone who was still human. Or as human as one can be in that situation anyway.

It was long gone before we woke in that cold alley. Our head a mess of thoughts and memories and pain. We couldn't be me yet. We were never supposed to be me.

But he was different than us.

A fear can be afraid of feeling that same fear they forced upon others turned back on to them. That's what we had always done. Savoring in it from the shadows.

But I could kill fear with its greatest fear. The fear of their victim having the power in a situation that was supposed to be theirs to control.

So be thankful Archivist. We are not your victims. And you better hope we never are. Because we'll be there to claim them.

And when we do, I will be back to claim you.

Statement ends.

#tma #the magnus archives #my OC #tma statement #My writing #tw:death #tw: blood #tw: abuse #tw: anxiety #it's also possible this is just a little bit of venting lol #got inspired to write and so I wrote

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a-wanderin-whirlybird · 5 years ago

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Sole Ender AU Its the Little Things

It's the little things that made Ryan feel safe with the Fakes. Like how Gavin and Michael always walk on his right side, never his left, so he can always see them. It's how Geoff makes sure that any Heists outdoors are occurring when it doesnt rain. It's how Jack always has an extra umbrella or Eye Patch for him. How Jeremy and Lindsay make sure to never make direct eye contact. Jeremy looks at his mouth, Lindsay watches anywhere and everywhere else.

Those little things always made Ryan feel welcome. Even after they found out about the experiments, the Lab, the Eye. But still, something felt missing, Ryan could never put his finger on it. But he felt, lost still. He didnt realize the Emptiness was caused by something so simple until one night while playing Trivial Pursuit.

"Authors last names? Fuck that! Every last bastard whose ever written a book has a weird ass last name! They could be Hilda Sasquatch or some shit!" Jeremy shouted. Jack laughed and Gavin snorted.

"Jeremy, you wrote a book." Michael reminded him.

"Well Dooley is a funny last name!" Gavin pointed out as Jeremy growled and slapped the Brit on the back of his head.

"Yeah, like Free is any better!" Jack was losing it in the background as the Lads began to bicker and wrestle. Ryan's nose scrunched as his chest tightened and the empty feeling began again.

"What's with the face Rye?" Geoff asked breaking Ryan's stare. His left eye was covered with a glittering purple and blue eye patch Gavin had made out of his Sparkles. It was a fine gift, one that Ryan treasured.

"Its, it's nothing really." Ryan insisted a bit hesitantly. Geoff shook his head.

"Suuuuuurrrre, it's really nothing." Geoff drawled sarcastically. Ryan rolled his eye.

"Your like a security camera." Ryan muttered. "You keep digging and digging."

"Yeah that's not weird at all." Geoff sighed. "But fine, I'll stop. Just remember you Can talk to us."

"I... I know Geoff." Ryan muttered as the fight before them settled. "Just. Not now?"

Geoff nodded and they all turned back to the game. Ryan hoped that he could bury that empty feeling and never touch it again.

It was just a Last Name after all.

Turns out Ryan couldnt avoid the feeling for long. It was another game night a few weeks later. Jack and Geoff were out with Gavin, so Michael, Jeremy and Lindsay insisted Ryan joined them for Mario Party.

"Right so what's got you so fucked?" Michael asked never looking away from the mini game on the screen.

"Oh elegantly put Jones." Jeremy teased. Michael knocked into Jeremy who went tumbling away and Ryan felt the hole in his chest open again.

"I dont know what you mean." Ryan said as Lindsay pressed into him.

"Bullshit you keep wincing at random! Your eye bugging you?" Lindsay asked this time. Ryan shook his head, he felt stupid he just wanted these people to stop caring so much!

"We arent going to stop caring dipshit that isnt how this works." Jeremy said. Great, Ryan thought, he said that out loud.

"Yeah! We're a crew and shit we ain't gonna not care! Somethings bugging you and we want to help!" Lindsay declared throwing her arms around Ryan and pulling him into a hug.

Ryan tensed then mumbled.

"Sorry what was that?" Michael smirked. "Cant hear you through Lindsay dude."

"I dont have a fucking last name alright? It's a small stupid thing but it drives me nuts! I feel even less human!" Ryan shouted, pushing away from Lindsay. Michael and Lindsay began to laugh.

"Dude chill. It's just a name it doesnt mean shit!" Michael wheezed.

"Yeah dude. No need to get your panties in a twist over it." Lindsay added. Ryan growled and silently rose to his feet.

"Ryan?" Jeremy started but with a Vwoop, Ryan teleported away leaving the three others behind. In a cloud of dull sparkles.

Ryan could teleport pretty far. The farthest he ever went in one go was 20 miles. But now he didnt want to go far, just hide. And what better place to hide than one of the safe houses?

It was a small apartment closer to the suburbs of Los Santos, it was nice, if small. It was usually reserved for when someone was on a solo mission and needed to lie low, which meant that Ryan was there most. So he got to decorate.

Back at the Labs he never got to make any space his own. Everything was sterile and empty. He hated to remember the open space and clean white walls and the smell of bleach and chemicals.

Which was why this space was filled with stuff. Sure it was tidy, nothing was rotten or moldy, but Ryan used every space available. If the floor didnt have a rug there was a table or chair. If the tables didn't have Flowers, TVs, knickknacks or something on it there was usually a cup of Diet Coke. It was filled to the brim with bright plants, paintings, photos you name it.

Ryan plopped down on the couch feeling stupid. Why was he so hung up on a name? He had given himself the name Ryan sure, why not a last name?

Ryan knew why, and as that thought rose up he pushed it away. He didnt want any memories of the Labs in his head right now. Now he wanted to just sleep, he wanted to feel less... less stupid and childish.

So Ryan went off to the bedroom and buried himself deep under the covers, like he used to, and blocked out the rest of the world.

Ryan was 13 again and he sat on his cot, swinging his legs absently.

"Why dont I get one?" He heard himself ask. "Why am I only a number?"

"Names are given by family to people. You have no family and you are no longer human. You are far better than that." One of the blurred figures said. The second scoffed.

"Better? It cant even run the most basic excersise without failing ten times. Its isnt anything but a waste." Ryan couldnhear the sneer in the figure's voice as pain shot through every nerve on his body. "Failure doesnt get you a name of any kind. You are a tool, and a broken one at that. Dont forget that."

Ryan woke up with a start. Turning to the clock Ryan cursed. 3 am. He wasnt going back to sleep. Again.

Getting to his feet Ryan didnt bother to change into fresh clothes. He had slept in his jeans why not just use them again? But he grabbed a jacket and went out into the night.

Mount Chilliad loomed in the distance as Ryan walked the dark streets of Los Santos. He could have teleported where he wanted to go, or even driven. But he didnt want to. Walking felt better, it gave agency, he decided where his feet went, no one else.

"Oh Thank Fuck! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Ryan jumped, ready to fight and run from the handlers. When recognition snapped his mind from bad memories.

Standing before him was Jeremy, holding a tiny wiggling bundle of fur. A cat from what Ryan could tell. Jeremy smiled nervously, but relief was evident in the smaller man's eyes.

"Look, uh. Fuck I suck at this shit. Let's go inside yeah? We are near a place I own. Come on." Jeremy ushered Ryan towards a nearby apartment building. Ryan followed wordlessly, but obediently. At the door Jeremy hopped around a little.

"Keys, keys. Uh Hey Rye mind.holding him for a sec?" Jeremy then thrust the cat into Ryan's hands who finally got a good look at the little fur ball.

They were a tiny black kitten, fuzzy and wiggling furiously. What stood out the most was that it was missing a front leg.

The door clicked as.Ryan made eye contact with the little kitten. His chest tightened and his mind whirled as he looked into the kittens little eyes. Then it looked at Ryan's jacket and started burrowing into one of the interior pockets. Ryan felt a purr resonating out of the tiny cat from in his jacket and through his ribs. His chest began to unclench and suddenly he was.aware he was inside a studio apartment.

There were art supplies everywhere. Everything from Yarn and Knitting needles, to paints and canvases to wood sculptures, and musical instruments were strewn about. Jeremy hopped around the room over to a ragged old bed, kicking off his shoes as he went.

"Well, make yourself at home. Dont mind the mess things just get thrown around alot." Jeremy said sheepishly. Ryan picked his way through the room, his eye moving around and soaking up all the little pieces. The space felt lived in not just visited like the safe houses.

"Is this a safe house?" Ryan asked as he sat down on the bed. Jeremy shook his head.

"Nah. It's my apartment. Before I joined the Fakes I lived here. Still try to come back, sometimes you just need your own place you know?" Jeremy explained. There was a tense silence for a few minutes then Jeremy spoke.

"Michael and Lindsay were being a bitch." Ryan tensed ready to run. "No please just, hear me out?"

Ryan froze, suddenly aware he had gotten up to leave. Jeremy had his arm, and the Kitten purred even louder than before. Ryan sank back onto the bed.

"Look. I dont know what your life was like before you joined us but it obviously wasnt even a little bit good. Actually it sounds like it was fucking awful." Ryan laughed dryly.

"That's putting it lightly."

"Yeah no shit. But it's not stupid to feel shit." A pause. " If not having a Last name bugs you why dont you give yourself one?"

"Its not..."

"Not that simple yeah?" Jeremy finished Ryan nodded as the kitten crawled out on Ryan's lap.

"Alright, well. Do you think you can tell me why?" Jeremy asked. Ryan thought, eye down on the kitten as the little guy curled up on his lap without a care.

"Its not the same. It belongs to a family. I cant be a family of one." Ryan insisted and Jeremy shook his head.

"Ok two things. One. Thats a load of horseshit and who ever told you that was dumb as fuck. And two. There is more to it isnt there?" Ryan stayed silent. Running his fingers through the Kitten's fur. Jeremy began to whisper. "You're human, Rye. Just cause someone says you arent doesnt make it true. I know that one."

Ryan froze he didnt expect anyone to pick up on that. The whole Not human but was always somewhere in the back of his mind, eating at him. Jeremy wrapped himself around Ryan hugging him tightly. Ryan shook as he melted into the other man's touch, a few tears spilling out.

"You know. My family abandoned me when I was a teenager. Said I was a monster just cause I kissed both guys and girls. Not exactly dubious experiments but it is dehumanizing all the same. I kept my last name though. I did it as a big old fuck you to them. They died during one of the Fake's heists. Got to watch then burn myself. But the name never connected me to them, a name connects you to who ever you want it to." Jeremy was quiet as he spoke, his voice against Ryan's skin as he pressed into Ryan's neck.

Something was bubbling in his brain, but Ryan had no idea what it was. And right now was not the time to figure that out.

A small Meow pulled the two away from one another. The little kitten was trying to climb up Ryan's jacket between the two. As it scrambled up Jeremy laughed, and Ryan felt a chuckle escape his throat. The kitten then flung itself over Ryan's shoulder, it's one front paw kneading his shoulder blade and purring up a storm.

"I forgot this little guy was here." Jeremy said through a laugh. A pause, then Jeremy smiled softly. "Ya know, I was going to take him to the shelter. Geoff won't let me keep any animals. But I think you should take him."

"You just said-" Ryan began but Jeremy shook his head.

"I'm not allowed any animals. Geoff never said anything about you keeping a pet. And hey! Now you have another family member! You can give him a first name and a Last name of your choice!" Jeremy beamed at Ryan who smiled a little.

The sun rose as the Battle Buddies walked into the penthouse. The morning news was filling the living room, telling the story of several Petstores that had been robbed of supplies in the night.

"And what a coincidence, you both have Pet stuff." Geoff hissed as he sucked back more.coffee.

"Yeah well, Ryan's got a cat now so you gotta have toys and a litterbox to you know?" Jeremy said as he dropped a giant bag of cat food next to the kitchen Island.

"I thought I said no pets!" Geoff shouted, his voice cracking.

"Yeah but only for Jeremy." Ryan pointed out. "Abd Finnieas isnt a pet. He's family."

Geoff paused, Ryan knew the gears were turning. Geoff groaned.

"Ugh! Fine! You can keep the damn cat!" Geoff hissed. "And Finnieas? The hell kind of name is that?"

"Ih his full name is Finnieas Gavallo Haywood thank you." Ryan insisted with an air of dramatics. Jeremy giggled and kept in front of Ryan who held the kitten before him.

"A poud name Haywood! Ancient and divine! Dating all the way back to 4 hours ago!" Jeremy exclaimed. Geoff laughed.

"Alright you dolts get a move on. I'm going to text Jack and let them know you two caused the morning rukus." Geoff said. Jeremy took off down towards Ryan's room, a bag of cat toys in hand. As Ryan went to follow, Geoff got up off the couch. He placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder and gave a lop sided smile.

"Haywood's a good name. You know. I picked Ramsey myself when I built this crew. Jack took Patillo at that time to." Geoff then walked away, pulling out his cellphone and typing.

Finnieas purred as Ryan took in the unspoken message.

A name may seem like a Little Thing, but it holds importance all the same. And sometimes you need to give yourself those Little Things to heal.

#Sole Ender AU #Ender!Vagabond #A kitten has joined the party #Ryan Haywood #yes he named himself #FAHC

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fanfictionamerica · 6 years ago

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A Familiar Face (Doctor Strange x GN!Reader)

Title: A Familiar Face

Author: @fanfictionamerica

Pairing: Doctor Strange x Reader

Warnings: Mild violence, mild language

Word Count: 1,253

Tagline: No one tells you that having memories of your past life could be such a burden.

Soulmate AU: People are reincarnated soulmates, but only one of them remembers their past life + soulmates are rare.

A/N: This is for @loki-the-fox 's Halloween Marvel Writing Challenge. This fic happens after Doctor Strange but before Infinity War. The Doctor is the Sorcerer Supreme in this particular fic. This happens in the MCU, but soulmates occur in this specific universe (though they are rare). Hope you enjoy! P.S. There will be a second part eventually.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was a proverb very familiar to you throughout all of your life. Your parents, some of your friends, and even strangers always warned you of the danger of prying into things that weren't relevant to you or exploring places not meant for you.

That never stopped you, though, especially with the rejoinder, “But satisfaction brought it back.”

Despite some of the danger that came along with the curiosity, your mind always had an insatiable need for new knowledge and new experiences. After all, that need is what lead you to discovering your memories of past life and therein finding Kamar Taj and your soulmate.

“Daydreaming again, Y/N?” The stern, yet teasing voice of your friend drew you out of your thoughts.

“Mmm, more like reminiscing,” you replied, closing the book you had been attempting to read for the past hour. You weren't getting anywhere with it anyway.

Your friend stood a few feet away from you, browsing the shelf nearest you for another book. “Another memory of your past life came back, didn't it?”

Your fellow student of the mystic arts knew of your soulhuman status not one week into your training, in spite of the rarity of being one. Your spaciness in the middle of battle training signaled to them that something else was going on. When your friend confronted you about it, you told them the truth: that you were a Soul Human and that you'd been having more frequent flashbacks since you came to Kamar Taj.

“Yes, this time, I saw the first time I met my soulmate. Not a great first impression for either of us, let me tell ya.” You couldn't help but let out a little laugh at that.

“Sounds like your first meeting of Master Strange.” You could hear the smirk in their voice.

You scoffed, dismissing your friend's suggestion quickly. “I'm pretty sure almost everyone's first impression here at Kamar Taj of Strange wasn't that great.”

“Well damn, that was quite a mouthful, Y/N. You only do that when you want me to stop talking.” Your friend paused, scrutinizing your expression. “He's your soulmate, isn't he?”

“Oh, look at the time. I gotta go.” You got out of your seat and headed toward the exit, giving your comrade a guilty smile as you opened the door behind you.

They narrowed their eyes at you. “You coward. You just wanna avoid my question.”

You shrugged a shoulder, then said as you took a step back out the door, “You're not wrong. But you can't do anything about it.”

You stepped fully out of the library and let out a sigh of relief. “Fwoo, that was a close one. They almost got me there.”

The truth was, you knew that Stephen Strange was your soulmate. He may have not looked exactly the same as in your past life, but you could recognize those stark blue eyes of his anywhere. But you wouldn't readily admit that to anyone.

“Almost got you to do what, Y/N? I thought no one gets you to do anything you don't want to.”

You turned around and smiled at the Sorcerer Supreme. “You see, the key word in that sentence is 'almost.' They still didn't get me to do it.”

Strange rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance. “You're ridiculous.”

“Thank you, that's what I was going for!” A mischievous simper appeared on your face.

“If you're done trying to be funny, we have a lead on the time traveler that's been causing us trouble.” Despite the stern tone, you could tell that he was attempting to hide a smirk at your words.

“You should've just started with that. I would've stopped being funny earlier.”

Strange raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you done now?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I'm not,” you replied in an amused tone. “It's been a while since I've been on an adventure with the Sorcerer Supreme himself.”

“There's a reason for that, Master Y/N,” he quipped back at you, smirking at your exaggerated offended expression.

“How rude of you!” you cried as Stephen opened the library door and walked toward the room with the Sanctum portals. “I don't know if I can be friends with you anymore; I'm so hurt.”

“Come on now, Y/N,” he chided in a playful tone. “We all know that if you were really hurt, you wouldn't be jumping at the chance to go on a mission with me.”

“You know, I could just be following you because I'm bored and then my feelings about you wouldn't matter.”

Strange sighed. “You're not fooling anyone, Y/N. Once, you refused to go on a mission with another student because they'd hurt your friend.”

“…You got me there. Now let's go get that meddling time traveler before they escape.”

The Sorcerer Supreme didn't dignify your words with a response, knowing you two would keep bantering back and forth if he did. So he stepped through the portal to the New York Sanctum and didn't look back, knowing you were following close behind.

I'm telling you, Stephen, I feel like something's following me, you sent telepathically.

You felt an icy breeze tingle your neck, causing a shiver to traverse down your spine. Your paranoid mind almost thought it could be someone's (or something's) breath.

Stay calm, Y/N, you heard Stephen's voice send back. For all you know, it could be an animal or your mind playing tricks on you.

You took a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. I know, but doing missions in the dark always freaks me out.

You never liked being out in the dark, especially considering that it was a circumstance a lot like this one that got you killed in your past life.

A loud bang sounded behind you, causing you to jump on reflex, spin around, and summon a shield with your magic. Instead of running away like a "normal" person, you decided to investigate whatever made that noise.

Are you okay, Y/N? Stephen must have sensed your jolt of fear through the telepathic connection.

You didn't respond right away, edging closer to the source of the noise. The light of your magic revealed the perpetrator, standing there seemingly unaffected by the crashing noise they had just made.

“Well now I feel like an idiot,” you said aloud this time, disappointment and relief flooding your body.

Standing there on a trash can looking smug as all heck was a stray cat, yellow eyes glowing in the light of your shield.

It was an animal, wasn't it? You didn't have to see the doctor to know that he was judging you and having fun at your expense.

Yes, and now I feel-

All of a sudden, you felt a searing pain go through your neck, interrupting your thought. You made an attempt to yell but found you could no longer move any part of your body.

Now you feel what, Y/N? Y/N, are you alright?

You tried to send out a mental message back to Strange but found out (to your horror) that you couldn't do that, either.

Your body fell onto the ground of its own volition since you no longer had any control of it. You hit your head on the pavement below you, pain coursing through your body. Your eyes began feeling heavy. Your consciousness started fading away. But just before you lost control, you saw your own face staring down at you, a needle in hand and a sadistic grin on their face.

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Doctor Strange or other Marvel characters and their stories. Gif belongs to the creator.

#2spooky4river #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #stephen strange x reader #soulmate au #reincarnation au #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel x reader #writing challenge #gn reader

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imdoingathingmom · 6 years ago

Text

My Fault

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2267

Warnings: language!

Description: The reader gets hurt on a hunt and Dean feels immensely guilty about it.

A/n: this has been in my drafts for the longest time so enjoy?? Be warned that this is my first ever Supernatural fanfic. Feedback is appreciated!

"Hey (Y/N)," Dean soothed into the phone as you hid behind a bush, blood dripping down a deep gash in your upper arm.

"Dean, thank god," you sighed in relief, keeping quiet.

"What's going on are you okay?" Dean panicked as he sat up from his chair.

"Well not really I'm stuck on this hunt..." You trailed off with a whisper.

"It's one vamp, how can you be in trouble?" You heard a crunch nearby and cursed under your breath.

"One turned into twenty dickweed! Just come hel-" You dropped your phone as a vamp picked you up by the back of your throat and threw you against a tree in the forest.

"(y/n)? (y/n)!" Dean called, hearing you groan in pain, he instantly hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket. "Shit!" He hissed and ran up the stairs of the bunker. "Sam, (y/n) is in trouble!" Sam ran out of the library and followed his brother up the stairs, using his long legs to take two at a time.

"Damn it Dean I told you we shouldn't have let her go alone!"

"Yeah yeah you can scold my ass later, lets go." In a mere matter of minutes the bunker was locked up and the Winchesters were on their way to rescue you.

Sometime later you were woken up with a jolt. Your eyes fluttered open and it took you a moment to recognize your surroundings. You were curled up in the back seat of the Impala with your back facing the front seat. You slowly sat up and groaned as your head began to hammer. You reached up and touched your temple that was sticky from your blood. "Fuck," you said and gritted your teeth against the pain. Sam looked back and huffed out a sigh of relief when he saw you had finally woken up.

"She's awake," he said to Dean and turned back around. Dean looked at you through the rear view mirror and let out a small sigh, his hands slightly loosing their grip on the steering wheel.

"Hey Princess how ya feeling?"

"Really Dean?" You huffed and grabbed a shirt off the floor of the Impala, wiping the blood from your head. You were going to do the same with you arm when you noticed it was already wrapped up with one of Dean's flannel shirts. "I feel like absolute shit and I'm sure you and Sam can both tell." You dropped the shirt back where you found it and slowly leaned back, wincing as your back came in contact with the leather seat causing pin pricks of pain to run up and down your spine. Sam brushed the hair out of his face and gave Dean a look causing him to clear his throat and lean up in his seat a bit.

"Sorry (y/n) I was just...I shouldn't have let you go at it alone." Dean focused his gaze back on the road.

"Yeah whatever. Just tell me all those leeches are dead?" You tried to get comfortable in the backseat but the pain in your back made it impossible so you settled on sitting up, away from the back of the seat. When the car stayed silent you looked up at the rear view mirror hoping to find Dean's gaze but he refused to look at you. "You let them get away!" Before you knew it you were screeching. "I got mauled for nothing. I could have got turned into a vampire and you're telling me that you let them all get away? Are you fucking serious Dean!?" Dean met your gaze with a glare, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel again.

"(y/n), look I-" before he could finish his counter argument Sam jumped in hoping he could diffuse the tension. He already knew what this bickering would lead to. It became a weekly thing at this point.

"Only two got away. We were more worried about making sure you were alive (y/n)." Sam tucked his hair behind his ears and turned around to give you a pleading look.

"But what if there's more? They'll-"

Sam rose his hand and gave you a stern look that had you choking on your words. "I get it (y/n). Really I do but we've all had a rough night and you're in pain so let's just get back to the bunker and rest. We'll worry about the vamps another day." You chewed at your bottom lip once you realized how silly and rude you had been. He was right so you just nodded your head and kept quiet the rest of the drive home.

This wasn't the first time that Sam had to stop you and Dean from butting heads. Over the course of the few months that you had been hunting with them you and Dean haven't always seen eye-to-eye. You often clashed a lot hence why you sometimes did hunts on your own. You figured the reason why you and Dean had a lots of arguments was because he didn't take too kindly to someone else trying calling the shots, which you frequently tried to do. However, Sam always teased that the reason why you guys fought so much was because you were too much alike.

Sometimes he would even claim that you guys actually liked each other and just didn't know how else to express it. Of course you liked Dean but you knew that Dean didn't feel the same way and you always got mad when Sam would talk about how Dean had a crush on you. Sam would even say that Dean was the first to call "dibs" on you when you guys first met. You never believed in Sam's lies of course. You just couldn't see how a guy like Dean would want anything with a girl like you. It just didn't make sense in your eyes. Dean was a rugged, classic rock, meat loving, ladies man after all. While you were one of those chicks that usually only got asked out because of a dare between friends. You weren't ugly just not an eye catcher and your love for literature, fine arts, and sci-fi movies, surely didn't make you an interesting catch.

You never believed you could catch the eye of Dean Winchester.

After an hour or so of driving, you lost track of time, the bunker came into view and a sigh of relief left your lips. It was two in the morning an your body felt hella stiff, you were definitely ready for bed. You grabbed your bag from the trunk and made your way to the front door in silence. Once you were in the bunker you threw your bag onto a table in the library and made a beeline for the kitchen as you were starving. You washed your hands and started pulling items to make a sandwich out of the fridge. When you reached to the very back, in search of the mustard, you hissed with pain as your arm begin to burn from the stretch. "Don't you think you should get fixed up first before you eat?" Dean's deep voice caused you to jump and knock your head against the top of the fridge.

"God damn it! Why must you sneak up on me like that?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." You turned around with the bottle of mustard clutched in your hand while your other one was pressed against the injury on your arm.

"Its...it's okay. And for starters food is way more important right now." You put the mustard down on the counter and smiled at him.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that Princess." Dean rose from where he leaned on the counter and nodded towards your arm. You followed his gaze and noticed it had began to bleed through the fabric of his shirt. You pouted and he returned it with a sad smile. "Come on let's get you cleaned up." You put your sandwich crafting on hold and followed Dean to the bathroom where you popped a squat on the covered toilet. He busied himself with finding the medical supply kit and then picking out the right materials for this particular task. Once everything was ready he looked over at you. "I think you should sit on the counter. You know so I don't have to kneel." You nodded and silently obeyed.

Once you were sat down Dean stood between your open legs and slowly began unwinding his shirt from your wounded flesh. You took in a sharp breath when it snagged a bit. Dean gave you an apologetic look and threw the bloody garment to the floor. After he set to work with sterilizing and then carefully stitching up your wound. Each tug of the needle pulled a whimper from your trembling lips as you tried not to cry. Finally after the fifth one he was done and began wrapping gauze around your arm. Dean made sure it wasn't too tight and when he was done he looked up into your eyes and scratched the back of his neck. "(y/n) I'm sorry for acting like a dick lately." Dean leaned closer, his candy apple eyes piercing (Y/E/C) ones, as he wiped away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen.

Your head started to swim and you couldn't tell if it was because of your injuries or because of how close he was. Dean had pushed your hair back behind your ear and softly began dabbing your bloody temple with a wet cloth. "Its okay Dean really... I've been kinda bitchy too. I'm sorry."

"I'm not gonna argue with you there but I made it no better. I'm so sorry for pushing you away. I should've never let you hunt on your own. It's my fault you're hurt. I- I wasn't there to protect you." He pulled the washcloth away from your face and looked down as his grip tightened around it.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?" He refused to look up at you, fingers pulling at the cloth in his hands.

"Look at me," Dean just shook his head instead. You placed your hands over his and rubbed circles into his skin before they relaxed and stopped trying to tear apart the washcloth he was still holding. You pulled the cloth from his hands and set it to the side then you place yours on either side of his face and made him look up at you. Dean's lips were pulled into a thin line and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "It's okay. I'm here and I'm alive. "

"But look at you. It's all my fault."

"Dean I've been banged up worse than this before and you know it! I don't blame you. I shouldn't have went on my own I mean the case was fishy right from the start. I should've known." You let out a soft laugh to try and lighten the mood.

"This isn't funny. I would've been responsible for your death. I... I can't lose you." He pulled himself from your grip and stepped back as a means to give you room but you grabbed at his shirt and tugged him close again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed your lips against his into a warm and gentle kiss. You knew this was risky, knew there was still a chance that he didn't really like you, but he did just say he couldn't lose you. Not to mention he looked so shook up so you took a chance.

At first he didn't respond right away but after a minute or so his lips began moving against yours in a tentatively slow rhythm. A fuzzy warmth spread throughout your body and you were on cloud nine. One of Dean's arms came around your waist as he deepened it and the other grabbed a fist full of your hair. His movements became faster and more rugged causing a pool of heat to gather at your core as your heart began to feel like it was gonna explode. His arm tightening around your waist caused you to flinch and he pulled away with regret and fear swimming in his eyes. "(y/n), I am so sorry! I didn't mean- I was thinking with my dick." You pushed him away and hissed in pain.

"Shut the fuck up Winchester! I'm in pain I'm not mad about what just happened." Hope lit up his eyes before he realized you were bleeding again. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying and grabbed the hem of your shirt before slowly pulling it up. Your side had a gash in it that was bigger than the one on your arm. You looked up at Dean as he left to get a bottle of whiskey.

That night Dean took care of you the best he could, stitching you up and making you dinner. He slept in your room that night afraid that if he left you alone you'd disappear. He made sure to keep his space of course as to not upset your wounds and to show you some respect. He didn't really know where you guys stood now. You initiated the kiss but he figured you weren't in your right mind after almost becoming vamp chow. That didn’t stop he from being hopeful though. You were the kindest and smartest woman he knew, and although he didn't deserve you he just hoped, and prayed that in the morning you wouldn’t regret the special moment you shared that night.

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 6 years ago

Text

Luffy, son.... you are not supposed to serve tea this hot to people… (I wanted that to be its separate chapter, but it turned out to be waaay too short for that, and thus, a waste of ch numbers. Art incoming, too; because of that, this will be another “tumblr exclusive (for a while)” part.)

As I’m rather happy with this thing and it’s a halfway Law-centric chapter, I shall put it in the main tags. (this is a dumb LawXOC thing; this one seems to beee.... roughly 4500 words, attagirl)

This was the part that was fun to write even while unmotivated. I think y'all understand why. Now, for the less pleasant things, out of which I'm missing the next two or three chapters entirely… ho, boy. Now, this will be power writing. (Also thanks to anyone who might be here who might have written any of the anon messages I got to keep me going past this particular chapter???)

Ps.: do not ever sterilize your whole entire house if you have a kid. They are meant to catch things so their immune systems get stronger… and have work to do. Because if they don't, they get bored, and a bored immune system will look for shit to defend against anyway; this is how your kid gets allergies ranging from 10 pollens through animals to fucking SUNSHINE. They are meant to be sick a lot in the first couple of years, deal with it. And fucking vaccinate them, too.

31. We need to talk

8 o'clock; there's noone opening the door gently, nor is there anyone near-falling down the stairs. All is perfectly still.

Law drums on the desk with his fingers and sighs; he kind of saw this coming. Doesn't make convincing himself to go out and fetch the girl any easier, however. He's about as unwilling to seek her out as it is the other way round.

A good ten minutes later, he drags himself out of his room and up to the surface; it's relatively silent for a Saturday morning, but a lot of these idiots have been out partying, so whatever. He wouldn't be surprised if half of his crew was still out snoring on a bank or alley.

It's all the more scary when a masked rando pops up right beside him at the railing of the Thousand Sunny with a cheerful ‘yo, Kat’ as he starts checking on her whereabouts.

It's Luffy with one of those fucking… things. Looks like a cheap imitation, too. Seriously… if he didn't know it was one of these idiots, he would have gotten a heart attack. He's still way too jumpy in this body, goddamn.

“Strawhat-ya, honestly... does Kat-ya make a face like this all day?” he asks, with mild annoyance, pointing at his scowling self. “Also… take that thing off.” It's kind of creeping him out, now that he's taken a good look at it up close.

“Ah, right, it’s you, Torao… and nope, it's pretty rare,” Luffy nods, then plucks the mask off his head. “Found it between these big warehouses! Pretty cool, huh?”

“I'm not surprised it was ditched… Anyway, if even you can tell that much, then why do you keep mixing us up?” It's been like… no, not ‘like,’ it HAS been a week, for fuck's sake.

“Well, hugger you is definitely not you you, but otherwise... both Kat and Torao are worried, sad or angry most of the time, so it's hard to tell them apart, to be honest,” he states wondering as he drops the prop on deck with relative care and puts his hands on the back of his head to lounge at the railing. “Like today. And, whenever they are really tired, it feels like the prickly needle thing you get when your leg falls asleep. Everyone else tends to be more like... slow waves, when you stand in water.” He stretches one leg out and flaps the sandal to his soles.

“Huh?” What? Being talked about in third person is also weird, but… excuse him?

“The feel you two give off is pretty similar is all. Though I guess Kat is also more tense overall, at least she used to be. And she has a lot of weird jokes. That I usually don’t get,” he squints. Whenever the others find something she said funny and he doesn't get it, he feels left out, really.

“No, I mean… what would she be pissed off at?” And sad. And tense… He won't even try comprehending that other stuff. Anyhow, she can be the very literal definition of a nervous system at times, that's for sure. The very first thing he knew about her was that she was either really nonchalant about something, or about to have a panic attack, after all. And not exactly in the situations that matched those reactions... she shrugged off a date with the Reaper, but was really anxious when Nami dragged her off to get her cuts and bruises treated by Chopper on board of the Sunny two minutes later. But... halt, stop. It just registered… what does rubber boy mean by him being similar to her?

Luffy shrugs. “Dunno and don't really care. It's not even directed at anything, though... which is the weird thing about it.” He hops up on the railing to sit, then crosses his arms.

Law sighs… his observation haki will never be on this level. And the way Luffy formulates it is akin to an 8-year-old giving descriptions of a dream, which doesn't help, either. Reading faces and gestures can only get you so far, doesn't it.

Scowling a bit, Luffy eventually comes to a conclusion. “Maybe she just hates herself.”

The surgeon is a little taken aback by that; going by what this dunce just said, it makes sense, but... “Why would she...?” he mumbles mostly to himself, also crossing his arms. Going by whatever he could gather from Shachi and the rumors from her time in the dining hall, it did cross his mind that she might have some self esteem issues, that’s why he decided to be better safe than sorry and basically walk on eggshells when dealing with her. How she acts in general can support the idea, too, when considering some traits from another point of view…

“You are the one hanging out with her all the time, so why do you ask me?” Luffy pouts. The expression turns into a thoughtful one soon, then turns into mild worry. “… do you hate yourself, Torao?”

In the blink of an eye, he and his body (that’s worryingly cold in the first place) both realize that it’s like twelve degrees Celsius at best outside, and that not taking a sweater over a thin undergarment and breezy, medium sleeved shirt was a Mistake™. “You're… overthinking it,” he responds while waving dismissively.

“Really? That's a relief!” the other captain sighs and puts a smile back on.

“... yeah.” Perhaps it all boils down to her having a similar way to handle her emotions? She did keep being in pain a secret, which is something he does, so that's one thing they have in common. But goddammit, Strawhat… don't just say things like this all of a sudden.

He peeks then up towards the garden, where rhythmic little thuds have been disturbing the silence for the past minute. They really ought to talk.

Right now.

This is much easier to do once Nami appears from the direction Kat could be, as the navigator won’t let her captain go alone and get himself lost again in town when latter declares his intention to go back, even despite his excuses of being able to see the Sunny from the church tower when it’s not dark. Having gotten rid of Luffy surprisingly quick this way, Law stops on the stairs as soon as he’s high enough to look around. He peeks towards where he suspects her being, and indeed, the noise that started somewhere down the line was caused by a dazed Kat. He weighs his options for a moment; on one hand, taking some time off is a reasonable way to handle this. On the other… if he leaves this up to the girl, she may never show her face again, which is no viable route for him to take. He’ll definitely have to take initiative.

Noticing the light steps closing in on her, Kat stops drumming her heels against the ship.

Law sighs. “Look…. I know I’m making you uncomfortable right now, but I really kind of need my body back as soon as possible.” … maybe not the best start, but he got the point across.

After a short pause, Kat bonks her head into the wooden pillar in front of her with considerable power, and takes a long, sharp breath.

Law watches in perturbed bafflement. Um… maybe… it was a bad start, after all.

“I’ll manage,” she sighs, straightening herself at once. “It’s hard to ignore, and cuts my productivity in half, but… is, what it is. I’ve kind of made peace with telling my boss as-is, too, so that won’t be bothering me.” She pauses the fast rant for a moment to cut the speed, and stares into the waves licking away at the side of the ship. She had enough time to think about this somewhat objectively during her short-ish wake around midnight and later in the morning. “And you… shouldn’t have to worry about it, either. Once you're all gone for good, it will fade away soon. Knowing myself, I might not even be able to remember your name in a few months, anyway,” she shrugs all limp. “I’m no good with names, so… it would be nothing new.” It’s a famous and super simple name that’s not hard to catch, so she likely will. Maybe even his surname, since it’s a funny one. No promises, though.

… twisting knives much? Sheesh, he never suspected her of being capable of such… savagery. And he thought Luffy was being blunt today… Generally, he likes both of their honesty quite a lot, but Kat saying that he’ll be deleted from mind as soon as he’ll be out of sight is… a bit too much. And frankly, it hurts like a bitch. If he was in any way unsure about how he felt about her until this, well... there are no doubts about it now. He better keeps all of this to himself, though.

After all... it really is for the best. Technically, good news, even. And he also gets her; it’s the pragmatic thing to do. Having any kind of amiable relationship with a pirate is not exactly easy. There's no sure way to reach them, and sending messages to someone endangers that person. Hell, they all could die the day after setting sail for all he knows. A part of him has an even deeper understanding of what she means… it's not about worrying about anyone getting killed, quite the contrary. She's sheltering herself from getting hurt, by simply staying indifferent. He handles strangers the same way, and did the same for the longest time while with the Family: laughing whenever he felt like it... helping if he wanted to, or if he had to... generally enjoying the company, but not building any meaningful relationships. The question is, though... how did she get there, to this mindset? Few normal people do that. It could be just the way she’s always been, but considering how much she strives to please people around her, and how sensitive she seems to be to other’s moods in the first place…

Who hurt her?

Getting no response and feeling his eyes on her back is getting to her fast; Kat puts her head back against the pole and continues. “... Sorry, that sounds... really mean... but I suck at keeping in touch anyway. People just... come and go?” She shrugs, then starts to swing her legs again, until her heels hit the ship and she stops with limbs still flailing about. “I have no idea what my kinda-friends from high school or college are up to, either. Even when I think about fun times and miss someone… I never sit down and write a letter or go visit. I don’t get any further than grabbing a pen, but… what even are the chances they still live where they used to, huh?” She puts on a bitter smile that fades away fast. “Am I... a bad person? For that?” Her voice is unstable and hoarse at this point. She takes a shaky breath, followed by a gulp.

“... no, you're not.” Not being able to keep up with people is okay. Being stuck in a cage of her own making is, though. He takes a moment of consideration, then joins her at the railing.

Kat stares down to where her hands should be through the white pillar as Law plops down, then speaks up after a short pause while holding back a sniffle. ”The other week, I was wondering... why none of them tried to hit me up, either. Ever. I guess I'm just... that insignificant...” The sniff escapes and she also needs to wipe off a tear.

“…” He didn’t plan on joining a therapy session, nor doing anything else past talking, but a good old shoulder pat is definitely warranted here, so that’s what he does. Realizing that the cold hand made her shiver is too little, too late, so he just rolls with it. “Now, now… you know like a dozen of infamous people as of last Tuesday, so that automatically makes you count for something.” Her self esteem really seems to be in a bad shape. There's definitely some asses that ought to be kicked on these islands, because this is definitely not normal behavior.

Cannot help but crack a smile at that. “If you say so.” She rubs her eyes. “Sorry, I went off tangent again.”

“As did I the other day… and? Got it out of your system?” Seems like she’s bouncing back at least.

“Kinda,” she breathes after a pause.

“Just kinda?”

“…” She rests her temples against the railing again, even though it’s starting to hurt, bump she just made notwithstanding. “Every now and then, I keep thinking… how there would be someone in my place to do all the things I do.” Her eyebrows furrow. “If not now, then later. I’m just another pebble in the sea, and it feels… suffocating.”

“… I see.” Oh, boy… this actually sounds like more zero filter stuff, but without drugs to make it weird. Which is iffy, since he’s far from being a psychologist. Well, is what it is… take notes, analyze, and most importantly, watch your fucking mouth.

“Like, I know it’s the same for important people, inventing and doing actual, impactful stuff. Because, there’s little difference in the grand scheme of things, is there? It just doesn’t matter whether something happens today or in a hundred years. Everyone is replaceable. As is everything else. What I wanna say, is… wanting attention… at all… makes me feel selfish. Even when it probably shouldn’t.” Feeling the hand on her shoulder makes it tingle… she’d move, if not for knowing that he would lift it off again.

“… Um…” Okay… he might have stepped into this one hard. Aside from blinking wildly, because this has suddenly nosedived into deep waters… he needs a second here. The spaced-out girl he got to know in the past two weeks thinks about this shit regularly? She did seem less bubbly and way less excitable than she actually is at first glance, but… holy shit. She actually is pretty good at brooding herself. If he wasn’t so dumbfounded, he’d be impressed. “… wow, I… never considered the possibility that you could be a nihilist.” A very sentimental nihilist. That’s certainly what he takes from this. The conclusion is kind of enlightening.

She remains silent for a second, then squints. “... all I crave is death.”

Law lets out an exasperated sigh, then slaps her on the back of the head resulting in another light bonk. “Don’t you think for a second that I cannot tell the difference between you being serious and on the brink of grinning like an idiot,” he tells her off with the other hand on his hip. She may be trying to keep a poker face up, but none can do if she’s gonna use that overly dramatic delivery anyway. This woman, he swears to god.

And, as soon as the jig is up, there it is: the smile.

She reaches up to scratch the head area that stings a little after getting smacked. “Heh… sorry, had to break that gloomy mood.” Though, no lie, she does like talking about heavy stuff like that. If Law did not seem to be bothered by it, she probably would have continued.

“By willingly pissing me off?” Was that really necessary?

“Well… it worked, didn’t it?”

“Touche,” he breathes, crossing his arms. “But don’t make a habit out of it, if you know what’s good for you.” If she has actually figured out how to dig down to his berserk buttons, she’s playing with fucking fire, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she found enjoyment the activity. “I can fix myself up as soon as I get my body back, and rearranging your internal organs or face with, or without my powers, is not beneath me.”

She nods, humming. “I didn’t doubt for a second that you’d make a feisty kuja, alright. Will not overdo the gremlin act.”

“… good.”

After a silent pause, Kat stops rubbing her head. “… say, Law?”

He lets out a questioning hum.

“Are you in pain… because you were sick?”

“…” Is there a point to tell her anything if it’s so obvious in the first place? Oh well, she's asking, so… “Yeah. There are a few intergrowths I cannot really do anything with. Removing the lead deposits left my body aching at random, the bigger they were, the worse it is… you’ve probably noticed, but some areas like the left side of my torso and the right jaw are the main culprits. Those spots tend to act out a little even when everything else is fine. And I have additional god awful headaches when it’s too hot or cold outside and I don’t hidrate proper. These are honestly the worst aspects of it, no lie.”

“Act out like... Saturday evening?” When she first noted how something was a little off? It’s the only common experience they have…

He thinks for a moment. “Yeah, like that. The odd tissue that seems cancerous during a checkup, I can get rid of... but the fucking pain just won’t go away. Unless I kill off the receptors altogether, but that strikes me as an exceptionally stupid idea.” Even if it sounds really tempting at times. Maybe if he did it to his internal organs only…

“Wait…” Kat takes the first look at him today, and looks very much taken aback at that; “did you say cancer?” As soon as he looks back, she averts her eyes again. Seeing him, save looking him in the eye, is just… not something she can handle at the moment.

He blinks at the reaction, but keeps his eyes on her for a second. “Heard me right. Don’t shit yourself, I can deal with it.” Looking back in front of him, he adds, “I’m also legally infertile, but that’s the least of my problems.” He’s unlikely to get old, too, but honestly… there’s only so many times you can cheat your expiration date.

“Oh,” she says a second later. And sounds quite disappointed at that.

“... don't you ‘oh’ me. You can have all the kids you want for all I care.” As long as her plans involve someone else, that is. … aw fuck, brain, don't you have anything else to comment on?

“Oh, no, no, no, it's just…” She gives the sideburns a scratching; “This is going to sound so stupid… but you seem like… the dad type?”

Law laughs out at the ludicrous idea. “Me? Seriously?” Geez, that’s so… out of the blue. Even more so than the being married line. Never even seen him with a kid around, has she? They just tend to shit their pants right away. He needs to put a hand on his temples to process this a bit… and to make sure there’s no headache caused by stupid on the way. “God… the hell makes you think that?”

“Well, for starters… someone like Luffy would drop his toddler into the ocean by accident, which you would… not.” As simple as that. From what little she’s heard about Garp’s parenting… even if Law happened to be on the strict side, there is, like, no competition here, honestly.

A millisecond of consideration ends up in a concerned, solemn nod on Law’s part. He wouldn’t want Strawhat oversee children in general, or at the very least, not leave them with him all alone. He out-dads him in any technicality regarding safety and common sense, so that’s a score.

“You still could be fun around, though,” Kat continues leaning back; “Like… you would totally do something like sticking them to the ceiling as punishment for being bad,” she muses with a little relaxed smile, pulling up some average family scenarios. “but, unless you are obviously angry with them, they would love it instead. You could experiment with pretty much everything from floating to chopping them up, but all would backfire spectacularly as they think of it as just another game.”

“... can’t argue with that,” the notes, raising a brow. “Little hellraisers be like that.” Punishing a kid that's acting out, well… Best bet would be the basic ‘send them into a corner’ situation instead of getting creative, huh?

“You’d also be the go-to solution for homework… despite not being helpful at all.” Definitely trolling the shit out of anyone who’s trying to use him for an easy pass… yes, yes. Would come through when needed, too, she knows that much firsthand.

“Correct,” Law nods with a smug grin. He absolutely would be the most useless genius around. It would drive them crazy and he would be enjoying the hell out of it. If they legitimately did not understand something, though… that’s actually negotiable.

Having seen enough of his self-assured smile from the corner of her eye, she addresses him directly. “... get off your high horse, Law. You might be a little shit, but you’d also be out-bawling anyone at any milestone your kiddos reach whatsoever,” she states with an amused look.

“Absolutely not,” comes the indignant reply; “Do I look like the sentimental type to you?”

She takes a long, thoughtful look at his general direction. “Look… I might not be able to guarantee it, but as far as I’m concerned, you would transform into the worst mess of a doting ‘pappa’ there ever was as soon as you’d be holding your firstborn.” First day of school and graduations would be just as bad, if not worse… god save everyone if he’s around for a wedding. Him sobbing in a tux while trying to operate a visual transponder is not a mental image she’ll forget any time soon. In fact, she’s going to treasure the hell out of it. Even if she’s more used to him looking like her, so it takes some extra imagination points to see him in his own body.

Her chuckle earns a very unamused face. “I won’t even begin to try and imagine what you just thought of, but really? Really really?”

“Ve-really,” she states while booping his nose, then gets her hand pushed off to the side. “Honestly… you’re saying it’s very unlikely in the first place, right?” She ponders, scratching her head while sitting upright again. “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t be all over a baby? Beating whatever low odds?”

“...” She’s probably not wrong on that one. Up to eight, maybe ten per cent aren’t a lot...

“And let’s not even get started on the naming process… You have at least…” her fingers straighten one by one; feather guy, little girl, baby’s grandparents, and who knows, who else? “four, if not a dozen they’d have to pry from your cold, dead hands before settling for anything else!” He based his entire image on one of these people, for fuck’s sake. First boy would definitely get that name, whatever it may be.

… not to mention the chances of a healthy child…

“And… little ones are always sick or some shit, right? You’d go into doctor overdrive. Give them checkups like every fucking week, and be staring from over the bathroom door to make sure they wash their teeth, and… dude, I’d fucking hate to be your kid, oh my god!” At least it takes him like point five seconds to sterilize the entire house instead of scrubbing everything all day like a manic housewife, but holy shit…

“Kat…“

“I have no idea how you’d handle feeding them in any capacity, though… you run, like, exclusively on a handful of veggies, rice, potatoes… and chicken… and fish. And, you suck at cooking.” And the occasional drink. Would he be willing and able to make legit sandwiches…? He has no qualms touching the bread, made those French toasts, so that’s a start. This kind of presupposes him being allowed in the kitchen like a single dad, but still, she can’t help wondering how he would tackle that humongous elephant in the room if the need arises.

“Kat-ya, stop.”

The edge in the word startles her enough to delete the train of thought altogether. “Uh… um…” Did she say something wrong again? Did she hurt him? Or insult him? Is… is he angry…?

He sighs, staring into the darkness underneath the waves. “I suppose… you are right,” he says a few seconds later, his head also meeting the railing. “I am… the dad type.”

She stares down at her now interlocked hands; the images she found so amusing before… look sickly and pale all of a sudden. A quick reality check has sucked all life out of them. Managed to fuck his day up again, huh?

“Dreaming… is dangerous,” Law concludes. The last time he did something like that… came with just another harsh wake-up call.

“… sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you.” Again.

“Eh, I’ll get over it.” However… he’s once again reminded of the fact that he’d been living to fulfill a singular goal for over a decade, and ever since he’s pretty much reached it, he’s been feeling… well, rather lost, to be honest. Stretch goals, like going against Kaido are a sufficient distraction at best. Sometimes he hears a little voice in the back of his head breaking through regardless before muffling it, talking about being tired of this life… bringing up the clinic of his own he's always wanted… having a home to return to.

Peace.

He knows better than to hope for any of that.

A single finger tapping his arm makes him realize that his eyes and nose cavity are burning up. This is followed by her barely audible, little mouse voice; “... Law?”

He takes a shaky breath and rubs his temples, sneaking in a finger to wipe away the half-ripe tear from the corner of an eye. “I’m fine, I’m…” he comes to a halt upon looking at her; “oh my god, are you crying?”

“... a little,” Kat squeaks after swallowing once.

Law snorts all of a sudden, then breaks out in painful laughter. The tears are also coming, but fuck it, because... while he’s hurting, this… also feels kinda good. Actually, it feels great. Talking about all of this… is great. She’s a better psychologist than he could ever aspire to be. Cafe girl… you are too fucking nice for your own good. Sincerely, fuck you.

As soon as the surprise wears off, Kat joins in, too.

After a solid minute or two, Law flops on the grass with hands covering his face. “... both of us… are kinda fucked up, huh?” he ponders out loud after the last couple of laughs. It’s kind of a dumb question; who even is not fucked in the head from all the people that he knows? He should have known that she was no different, even if the causes are still a mystery. No wonder the two of them can hit it off.

“I guess so,” Kat sniffs, rubbing her entire face that must be as red as it feels.

Sliding his freezing hands lower, Law stares skyward at the thickening clouds for a while. Laughing and crying are both exhausting… not to mention doing both at once. It feels like floating in a weird dream. Peaceful, even. Every weight has slid on his back, which is neatly supported by this nice ship made of pure sunshine, leaving him to breathe freely for the time being. He would say a ‘thank you,’ but it gets stuck somewhere in his throat.

He must be in really fucking deep, huh. Not that he minds, though… it feels really nice, after all. A little too much to be true, yes. But for now… he doesn’t want to worry about his short future. Instead, right here, right now... he just wants to enjoy this moment. As much as he can. As long as he can. To the fullest.

#opfanfic #opfic #one piece fanfiction #Trafalgar Law #Kate writes #KMKY

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liescraved-a · 4 years ago

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JUST RIDE.

she’s never felt this free before, of cause she’s done things much more wilder than this, and even done this specific thing with other people. but there was something exhilarating about speeding down a highway in the passenger seat with lucas next to her, never felt so hole than right now, in this moment : a rock song blaring through the speakers as his other friends mingled in the back, laughter filling the air as the harsh winds hit them in the face with the hood of the car down . coralines head flings back against the seat, a laugh passing her lips that’s almost startling, never before had she laughed like that, not ever . even before crimson slithered way into life and made a home in the creases of her mind : this is where she belong, she thinks . eyes blood shot from weed and air, and a guy next to her that filled her with nothing but love and contentment.

holy fuck, she was happy.

lucas was trying to keep his eyes on the road, sun glasses on and hair seemingly staying in place as it always did - toothy grin wide and bright, though eyes couldn’t help narrowing towards the woman beside him, who was currently having the absolute time of her life. the notion shared was one same, he had spent his life jumping on a jet to another country just to try and feel something whenever he was bored, to feel that buzz in veins from something else other than a needle : he did, he found it, and one hand was currently against its thigh. this mystic, untamed creature had finally gave him something that was more than a shitty little temporary high - she gave him life, never did he want to let that go.

“ you’re going to hurt yourself ! “ he tries to yell over to speakers as coraline slowly sits on top of the seat, body wavering and hands firmly clinging to the window in front as to not go flying, for a moment he thinks it’s gone unheard, that the guitar and drums drowned out his concern, but she hears - it shows in how face turns towards him, bleached hair flying in the wind, dimples showing deeply in the corner of mouth - for a moment he thinks he should slow down, but the way cheeks light up pink with the wind and that goddamn grin has his heart racing - so, foot never leaves the pedal - in fact, he presses against it a little firmer.

she says something, though his hearing isn’t quite as good in this state and it gets lost - so instead of killing the joy of her being in the most dangerous state known to man, he turns down to volume of the music - just a little, just to hear what coraline says.

“ oh come on ! why’d you turn it down ?! “ jason, one of four in the back complains, though the other pair were far too busy making out in the tight space and in the world of their own to notice the change in volume. everyone simply ignores, and coraline notices lucas trying to garner attention and so she’s returned safely to the seat, a place where she wont be for very long.

“ wh - “

“ we should go to LA “ brown eyes are lighting up, like it was the best idea in the world - and any idea that comes out of those lips is the best, lucas thinks. tongue rolls against teeth as to stop cheeks from aching with the growing smile.

“usually wannabes go there, though i think you’re actually one of the few that could pull off being an actress, or a model - you’re talented “ coraline scoffs, hands reaching over to play with his soft locks “ what’s so funny, i mean it ! “

“ it’s funny that you’d think i’d ever want to go into those professions “ ah, an artist, he’s seen her work on several occasions and he’s never failed to say how good they were, it wasn’t lies either - with skills like that, she’s destined for greatness “ you know i like art, besides, could you imagine it ? i could try and get my art out there, selling shitty little pieces on the streets - then you could get into voice acting “ voice lowers, leaning in and brushing nose against cheek as to not let the others hear it “ i’d say live in a crappy flat somewhere down town, but that isn’t your style, is it ? “ and lucas laughs, quickly turning and pressing a kiss against coralines lips, not able to savior it as much as he wanted .

“ fuck no, if we’re doing that we’re living in style, you can have a room just dedicated to your pieces - get our own vintage car collection... oh ! and nothing but the finest LA drugs, i hear the coke is the cleanest - “ and cora is having a giggle fit beside him, body curling up in the seat as to completely face him as best to abilities in the uncomfortable state - in that moment, he wants nothing more than to make it a reality, just them on their own - a dream, and there’s such a want that burns within his blood cells at the thought of spending the rest of their life together in such a way. so, he stops the car, coming to a complete holt, not forgetting to grab coraline and making sure her inpact is a little less harsher than those currently being slammed against the back of the seats behind them.

“ what the fuck lucas !” “ oh my fucking god, what the hell, what happened ?” “ i think - dude, i think i have a concussion... maybe a broken arm - “

but the continued complains fall on deaf years, lucas is too busy staring at coraline whose in such a hazy state that she’s forced to blink a few times to gather thoughts.

“ wanna go there now ? “ “ huh ? “ “ to LA -- we can see the star walkway, go to the hollywood sign together. look at any places selling, fuck it, right ? why the fuck not, right ? “ “right now ? “ coraline has of cause been to those places, but never with lucas, and the concept of going before never really excited her, up until right now. perhaps not as stoked about already looking at apartments together, but this was lucas, how could she ever dream of saying no ?

“ dude i can’t go to LA, i have work on the weeken - “

“ right now, turn this car around and we can just - go “ cutting off the complaints, and theres a heavy silence between the two, once again not thinking about the fact that there are four other people in the back. lucas would by them plane tickets home, right now he wants nothing more than to just... drive, with coraline by his side and a dream destination in mind.

“ fuck it - “ “ is that a yes ? “ “ yes its a fucking yes, idiot ! “ that was all its needed for lucas to pull a U turn and go into the direction of Los Angeles.

#lucas & coraline.#past revealed : coraline.#past revealed: lucas.

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cecilspeaks · 7 years ago

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Episode 119 - eGemony, Part 3: "Love, Among Other Things, Is All You Need"

The captain has turned off the seatbelt signs, and –has- turned on the ceaseless anxiety signs. Feel free to brood about the cabin.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Welcome, listeners. We have a new sponsor. Our show is now sponsored by – love. Uh definitely consider love when wanting to buy things, because… love conquers all, makes the world go round, and is all you need. This has been a message from love, conqueror of our former sponsor, money. It’s what makes a Subaru a Subaru. [awkward chuckle]

OK, I have returned from the distant cavelands of the Baristas, an arduous journey made easier by it being pretty much downhill for the whole mile and a half. While I was there, I learned that the dreaded eGemony corporate prize contest and sweepstakes buzz marketing street team long ago became baristas. Distributing Night Vale’s case of Canadian Club to the citizens of Night Vale itself, meaning that Night Vale has been consuming its own soul, thus making us an ouroboros of our own selves. I returned because I knew that the best way to fight against eGemony’s attempts to drink Night Vale’s soul – was science. And I’m very into science. Or at least I’m very into someone who is very into science.

Once a year, all the scientists in the world gather in Luzerne, Switzerland, to calibrate their instruments to the length of Carlos’ hair. That appraisal is occurring right now, so of course, Carlos isn’t in town. Um, I’m on my own. Because the cause of science is important, but so is defending Night Vale, and one of the best parts about being in a couple is that when each of you is good at one thing, it’s like the couple is good at two things. This message was brought to you by – love. It turns out. Huh.

More of my plans to defeat eGemony as I desperately figure out what they are. But first, some local news.

Night Vale Community College announced its new slate of winter semester continuing education course. Introduction to Gibbering, Conversational Gibbering, Intermediate Gibbering, Advanced Gibbering, and Ikebana – the Japanese Art of Flower Arrangement.

Community college professor Adriano Copiello, who teaches French Gibbering said, "Ouvrez vos livres à page 3 et criez avant de vous faire bouffer" (Open your books to page 3 and scream before getting devoured)*. Professor Copiello, once considered a failure in his field, has developed what he calls a “charisma ray”, and now everyone thinks he’s A-OK, an exciting thinker and excellent dancer, and an entirely inadequate human being. When asked for comment, Professor Copiello responded by listing everything he could think of that was not a type of gum. By the time he finished, his charisma ray had worn off, and everyone realized Professor Copiello is in fact a terrible person, who attemps to court the friendship of students whose attractive naïveté is subverted, ironically, by how they gradually accumulate the tools of critical analysis in his classes. Meaning they apply what he himself taught them to judge him harshly, ultimately growing to resent his falseness, thus leaving his charisma ray utterly useless in the face of a culturally awakened classroom. Professor Copiello denied this by stringing together a bunch of French verbs related to the behaviors of aquatic animals. Those interested in continuing education should read a book for once.

OK, so earlier this morning, I walked across the street to get a two-pound bag of kiwis at Ralph’s, and had the most remarkable experience. Well, first I passed the same barista I always pass along the way, the one at the abattoire. But this time she gave me a friendly wink of recognition. And then another barista, the one in the produce aisle, he scalded my face with steam and said my mother was soo pungent, people thought she was an unroasted Sumerian bean, and I have never felt so welcome.

But the amazing thing was when I tried to pay for my fruit, the cashier said: “Don’t you love kiwis?” And I said I did and he said: “I love them too, and I love working here. So take the kiwis! Your love is your payment.” So I took the kiwis and later shared them with my brother-in-law, Steve Carlsberg, who said: “I love these!” Then he added: “I love you, brother!” and I nodded.

It seems that Night Vale is now a love-based economy. Oh, wait. This just in. Ralph’s would like to explain that the cashier made a mistake. It’s perfectly fine that he loves working there, and that I love the kiwis, but I do still have to pay for them. That makes more sense. But I’m a little disappointed. Still, because of the incredibly effective new sponsorship of our program, love is definitely in the air in Night Vale.

At Dark Owl Records, there is now a loudspeaker outside and store owner Michelle Nguyen is publicly playing the records she loves the most. Something she has never done. These albums aren’t vinyl but discs made of chalkboard slate, being spun underneath a needle and amplified through an outdoor speaker system. People who were strangers only moments ago are gazing into each other’s eyes with looks of admiration and hunger. That made it awkward to spy on them. Not impossible, of course, just awkward. Which has caused several members of the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency, who sit outside our homes in dark sedans, to step out of their cars and offer hugs to anyone who would like to have a hug placed on their permanent record.

There are reports of unidentified citizens running by fountains, waving flowers and balloons and handing out otters. The Sheriff’s Secret Police have replaced their patrol car sirens with Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You”. The hooded figures who stand in and around the forbidden Dog Park are still terrifying to look at, or even think about. But one of them is waving. That’s probably the most expressive form of love that they have.

Love is everywhere. But also there has been a subtle shift. As love has become more prevalent, its value has decreased significantly. The angel who is definitely former billionaire Marcus Vanston, who is now named Erika, said that they have drawn on a cocktail napkin an economic model for supplizied feelings, where those with the most feelings will them trickle down the love to those with the least.

Even here in our radio studio, I am feeling such love for you, right now. Listener, I love – this microphone. Aand this cable. And the mixing board! I love these blinking phone lines, oh! You know, maybe we should take some calls. Um hi, this is Cecil, you’re on the air.

Anonymous caller: I love you.

Cecil: Awww, I love you too! Next caller, you’re on the air with Cecil Palmer.

Same anon caller: I love you.

Cecil: Did you just call from the other line?

Anon caller: Oh uh, no. [lowers voice] I hmm, I love you.

Cecil: Ah, my mistake. You know, I love our community. Our Mayor, our angels, and even – our weather.

Anon caller: [whispers] I love you!

["Turn Into It" by Jamey Browning]

Listeners, I would like to thank our newest sponsors, love, for bringing us today’s show. But in all of my loving clamor, I lost sight of what was truly at stake. Our newest intern, Blake, brought back a familiar guest into our studio, thus reminding me of it. Blake then tried to use the three-hole punch without reading the safety manual first. Oh, quick aside: to the family of intern Blake, he was a reckless intern, and he will be missed.

But now, we welcome back to the radio station, Hugh Jackman of eGemony. Hugh, I’ve done some investigative journalism, and I’m going to have to ask you the tough questions. First, I know that you’re here to claim the case of Canadian Club, right?

Hugh Jackman: Oh no, don’t worry about that.

Cecil: Well I am worried about that, among the many different things I worry about. You were coming back to get the case, you wanted me to look under my desk and…

Hugh: Not anymore, that’s OK.

Cecil: But the Barista King said...

Hugh: Cecil, I know about the baristas. I know about how Night Vale drank its own soul.

Cecil: Oh. So does that mean that eGenomy is going to, I dunno, just leave us alone then?

Hugh: Funny you should say that. When I followed you to the baristas…

Cecil: You followed me?

Hugh: Sure. [chuckles] I was the one with the Admiral Tippet sideburns!

Cecil: Oh my god that was you? Those were so good!

Hugh: [laughs] Thank you, that took me hours to grow them. Anyway, after all that I was planning on telling my team leaders at eGemony we were too late and to abandon our plans.

Cecil: Whew! Well that’s good.

Hugh: And to buy all of Night Vale to help with eGemony’s debt acquisition.

Cecil: Oh, well that’s bad.

Hugh: There’s a glitch. I’ve fallen in love.

Cecil: Pardon?

Hugh: eGemony has highly secure communications, corporate demands that we only send messages on postcards from lakeside resorts…Oh, I shouldn’t have said that out loud. Siri, remind me to prostrate myself before HR at 4 PM today. [Siri sound] Anyway, I was at the post office standing in line behind – well, it was the strangest thing, you’ll never guess, I was standing in line behind…

Cecil: A dog with a man’s head, yeah, that guy’s always there.

Hugh: Um, spoiler! We don’t have quite so many folks like that back at the office, and it made me pay closer attention to – everything around me. The first thing I noticed was this particular post office was selling stamps. Then I noticed the stamps had no denomination on them, just the word “FOREVER”. I’ve worked in retail before, put myself through high school operating (--) [0:15:34] that sold decorative soaps and customers there, as you might well guess, can be mean or even cruel, saying things like, “Do you have anything vanilla-scented” or um, they’d also say things like, “I’d like to buy some soap.” It was awful! So I am always extraordinarily polite to clerks, sometimes even flirtatious. And when I got to the head of the line at the post office, I winked at the clerk, and seven of her eight eyes winked back, and then I said: “Forever stamps? That’s quite a promise.” And you know what she said?

Cecil: No.

Hugh: Nothing. It turns out she was a spider and didn’t care what I thought, but Cecil, it was the way she didn’t care! I had a (Mackinac) Island postcard to mail, and it was important because it’s my report back about how we’re going subsume Night Vale.

Cecil: OK, see this is what I was getting at.

Hugh: And I realized that she probably sent a dozen (Mackinac) Island postcards that day and mine was no different. She asked me if anything in my envelope was liquid, hazardous, insidious, shameful, or emotionally fragile and I said: “No more so than my heart.” And then a mosquito hawk got caught in her web and she raced over to wrap it into webbing and then dissolved its body with her venom so she could later drink its liquid corpse like a child with a juice box.

Cecil: Awwwwww!

Hugh: I know, it was so sweet! Now, I am not a poetic man, Cecil, but I was inspired. Have you noticed that love seems to be in the air right now? Like that Mariah Carey song: “I had a vision of love and it was this crazy dream where I was in a park, and trees were made entirely out of recycled aluminum cans, and you were there but you looked just like me, only with a nose bleed.”

Cecil: Oh, I love that song! My husband and I danced to that at our wedding!

Hugh: Anyway, I was close enough to smell her perfume and, well, I asked if I could have a book of the “Forever” stamps, and she asked which kind. And I said: [flirtily] “The Wonder Woman stamps”, and she said that they were out of them, so I said because I’ve worked in retail before, and I try to feel like all of us are in this together, that I was feeling shortchanged by the whole “Forever” business then. And I said it with a frown on my lips, but a smile in my eyes. Like this? See?

Cecil: Uh yes, please stop.

Hugh: Cecil, she handed me back my change and said: “Next human entity in line.” And I [voice breaks] love her, I love Night Vale, so I’m staying here until she loves me too.

Cecil: Wait, what?!

Hugh: See, Night Vale is in my heart now, and it’s in eGemony’s heart. We want to pivet our company mission, see. We don’t want to drink Night Vale’s soul, we want to cross-pollenate our startup model with Night Vale’s greatest asset: love. We want to take all of this love, such [chuckling] great content by the way, and program it into an app that users can just access from anywhere. I can get our street teams on this right now, to inspire the dreamfluencers to talk about love, it’s your station’s new sponsor, right? So let’s (value add) social media platform to..

Cecil: Oh look, it’s right here! It was under my desk after all.

Hugh: Sorry what?

Cecil: The case of whiskey. Yup, here it is! Look at it.

Hugh: I don’t understand…

Cecil: Open it.

Hugh: It’s a cardboard box with the Canadian Club logo on the side. There’s bottles of Canadian Club here, but I don’t get it, the town and the former street team drank this long ago. How was it under your desk?

Cecil: Um, have you ever heard of – science?

Hugh: I’ve watched a TED Talk, I know everything about science.

Cecil: Well there’s this thought experiment where a cat is in a box, but it’s unknown whether the cat is alive and peacefully sleeping, or in fact, alive and just clawing and vomiting on everything because, well, it’s a cat. Since both things could be true, both things are true.

Hugh: This isn’t sounding familiar.

Cecil: Well, your husband clearly isn’t a scientist.

Hugh: But how is it even possible?

Cecil: Hey, with love and science, anything is possible! Now go drink your whiskey.

Hugh: I… guess I completed my goals here then, and this fulfills my obligation to my lawyer, and I won’t be staying Night Vale to pursue my true love.

Cecil: Awwwwww. You need help carrying that to your car? Our newest intern, (Makani), can help you. Hey (Makani)!

Hugh: Is this for real? Wow! You’d think fulfilling a quest of 40 years like that would be an incredible feeling but – this is slightly disappointing.

Cecil: Mm. The realest thing is disappointment. Bye now!

OK, listeners. Mr Jackman is gone. So I can tell you how I managed this. I bought a new case of Canadian Club at the Ralph’s by using – money. [chuckles] Yeah, please welcome back a classic sponsor to the show – money. Money – it fixes all your problems. There are no drawbacks to acquiring it or using it to change the destiny of others. [very fast] Corruption, organized crime and economic inequality may occur. Ask your doctor if you can afford even a routine checkup.

So listeners, that’s all for our show tonight. Oh! I have just gotten a text from Lucerne and yes, all of the scientific instruments in the world are set properly. And all measuring will occur with precise – precision. Because of my husband, who is coming home. And he’s bringing fancy Swiss chocolate, the kind with a little flex of salmon skin? Awwwww! That’s so sweet!

OK, I know money is sponsoring this show, but just for a moment, I have to put a word in for love. Love – is pretty good! OK, done. Money – it momentarily defers desolation.

Stay tuned next for our exciting new game show, “What’s in the box? No, what’s in the f[bleep]ing box?”

And as always, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: For softer bones and a tenuous smile, drink malk. Got malk? It’s here. Drink it. [sped up voice] Drink it! Drink this myilk, mm, maalmk. [sped up voice] Drink it!

* Thanks to everyone who helped me out. It seems like there might be (intentional?) mispronunciation of words, but the translation above makes the most sense.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #episode 119 #egemony #egemony part 3 #love among other things is all you need

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the-chameleon-art · 7 years ago

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Happy holidays, my dear @forever-is-my-promise-to-you. Here’s my @dwsecretsanta present for you! I hope you like it <3

Ao3

The Last Week of School

Monday, 7:27 AM

That morning the staff room of Coal Hill School was so quiet you could hear a needle drop. Most of the teachers hadn’t arrived yet and the rest was peacefully getting the last minutes of sleep before the day started.

The loud bang of a bag hitting the table top didn’t even make some of them stir.

„Rose, dear, what have you got in there? Bricks?“ Jack peered intrigued at the bag trying to deduct its content. „Well, it definitely feels like it,“ Rose replied a little bit out of breath. „No, these are just a few holiday presents.“

„Presents? Oh Rosie, you shouldn’t have,“ Jack went to grab the bag only to have Rose snatch it back. „For everybody,“ Rose simply added as if Jack hadn’t even said something in the first place. „That’s good, seeing that I’m proudly part of everybody,“ Jack proclaimed with his signature smile. He seemed very pleased with himself as he held out his hand to receive a gift.

„Wait, does that mean that he’s also getting a present?“ Jack’s smile turned into a devious grin Rose didn’t like one bit. She groaned in response. „Yes. I couldn’t exact not give him one while giving everyone else something,“ With that she handed Jack a small, wrapped package which he practically ripped open the second it touched his palm.

„You know, I really don’t understand how you can’t like him. I mean have you seen his hair? Gorgeous. He’s a big, walking flirt. Everyone loves him. He always travels around the world during holiday breaks, did you know that? Always to places where people need help. I heard he once lead a caravan of camels loaded with litres of water to desolated villages in desperate need for it,“ Jack nibbled at the chocolate he’d found in the package.

Rose just shrugged „He’s infuriating. Everybody’s blue-eyed boy. Don’t you remember his first day?“

„Rose, you’re being overdramatic, honey.“ Jack finished his chocolate and went over to his desk. „Don’t forget that the Brig is going to make an announcement for tomorrow’s school excursion before the lessons starts,“ he looked up again and Rose noticed that his focus shifted to something besides her. And that bloody grin returned to his face.

„Hiya, Doc. You know one of these days I’m gonna get you show me what you put into your hair because even though you wear that helmet it still looks like you’ve styled it just a few seconds ago.“ Rose rolled her eyes. „He’s probably been here for hours curling his hair.“

„Ah, Tyler. Didn’t see you there,“ John Smith glanced at the bag still sitting on the table. „What’s this? You packing your stuff? Has a miracle happened?“

„Don’t worry, Smith. If I would leave, you’d be the first to know.“ Rose looked into his eyes defiantly. „Oh, I’m counting on that. See you later, Jack,“ Smith moved past them and disappeared into the growing crowd of teachers arriving.

Monday, 7:53 AM

„Also some additionally information; as some out you might know last night some sort of teacher ranking has been posted online. I know I don’t have to remind everybody, but just to make sure everyone’s getting this; Don’t let this interfere with your work ethic. It’s been posted by some students and we’re working to find out who did it. In the meantime just continue as normal. And now we move on to some basics for the school excursion…“ Headmaster Lethbridge-Stewart started talking about safety risks when Rose turned around to face Donna. „What teacher ranking?“ „You haven’t seen it yet? You’re in for a surprise,“ she pulled out her phone and with a few clicks opened a website.

„Here, take a look.“ Rose scrolled through the list of grades until she reached some typical American yearbook questions. Hottest teacher, most likely to, etc. When she finally found her name she had to make a double take. „Most likely to end up together? With John Smith? Are you kidding me?!“ She hissed at Donna. The only response she got back was a big smile.

„Ms Tyler. If you’d be so kind to pay attention seeing that it concerns you too.“ Rose could hear someone snicker near to her and she was pretty sure it was Smith. „Yes, sir,“ she shifted on her chair.

„As I was saying,“ Lethbridge-Stewart continued. „Sadly Mr. Sullivan has called in sick for at least three days which means there have to been made a small rearrangement for tomorrow’s excursion: Ms. Tyler takes over Sullivan’s spot and teams up with Mr. Smith. You two’ll have time to go over the details. That seems to be all for today. Success and please don’t cause any major incidents.“

Slowly the room emptied while Rose continued to glare at the table.

„Well, at least you didn’t really end up with him together.“ Donna tried to cheer her up. Looking up she saw John stare at her from across the room with an unreadable expression. Then he suddenly stood up and walked out of the staff room.

„Can’t change it now. Guess I just have to live with it. It’s going to be one day, right. What harm can it do?“ Rose shrugged and went to grab her sportswear. There were students waiting for her.

Monday, 8:16 AM

„You did this, didn’t you? Well, if you wanted to do something with me so desperately you should have said so.“ Smith leaned against her table. Rose had just given out nearly all of her presents. The only one left was for the person currently watching her like a cat that just ate a canary. „‘Scuse me? Are you implying something?“ She shot him a short glance.

„Not at all. What’s that?“ John pointed at the present she had been holding close to her chest. „Holiday gifts for the staff,“ She replied.

„A little small for the entire staff. Mind that the most important things in life turn out to be incredibly small. Are those Jelly babies?“ He proceeded to grab a handful out of Rose’s bag. With a small jump he almost was off again. „It’s for you.“ Rose simply said, still confused by his change of topic.

„For me?“ Rose shoved it into his hands.

„Don’t look so smug.“ She turned around quickly and left.

„Thank you, Rose,“ John said quietly to an empty space.

Monday, 3:41 PM

„Smith, we have to make plans.“

John looked up from his papers. „Look, if we’re going to make this work you might as well start calling me Doctor like everybody else,“ Rose just looked at him annoyed. „I’m being serious. Seeing that Sullivan and you already discussed the basics helps a bit but like the Brig said, we still need to talk about specifics. Like what we’re gonna do if students injure themselves?“

„Rose, we’re going to an art gallery. They might get dizzy because of an Escher or they’re legs turn jelly from looking at a Dali but they’re not going to get deadly injuries. Relax.“ He said it with so much confidence Rose almost felt at ease. John started to work on his papers again „Now, do you know if this is supposed to be a lambda or an h? And like I said, The Doctor will do.“

„Isn’t that name a bit pretentious?“

„P-pretentious?“ Ah, that got his attention. „I’ll have you know, Ms. Tyler, I worked very hard to get that title. I think. It’s all a bit hazy actually. I have to ask Romana about that. Which reminds me of a funny story which happened to me off the coast of Java.“ And there it was gone again. As John continued to talk about how he and a few rebels once boarded a ship in the Indian Ocean to save a small island Rose sighed. This was going to end badly.

Tuesday, 2:39 PM

It had in fact ended badly. Not as dramatic as Rose had thought but close.

„Oh, come on, Rose. I couldn’t have done anything about the art gallery paying thousands for a fake. So technically it’s not my fault.“ Smith tried to talk to her.

„Not your fault? Smith, you still managed to get us into a holding cell. Did you have to call the curator a moron for not noticing?“ Rose retorted. „Let’s be honest, it really was very obvious.“ John shot back.

„And can you explain to me why you had to try to prove it was fake by tearing the painting? I don’t even want to start about what you said to the police officer in front of the students.“ She let her head fall against the wall. „You always manage to get others into trouble for things you did. I can’t understand how everyone seems to trust you so quickly. Do you’re always wrap them around your little fingers with your charms and looks. Like seriously, do you sleep with curlers? What’s up with your hair, Smith?“

„Doctor“ John interjected.

„What?“ Rose snapped.

„Doctor,“ Smith repeated. „Could you please call me Doctor instead of Smith?“

„Why? I think you’re full of yourself when you call yourself that.“ She kicked a pebble across the room.

„I never liked it. Smith. Always felt wrong. Also I think we’re passed the phase of addressing ourselves with surnames.“ Rose stayed silent after that.

„Why do you hate me, Rose?“ The Doctor asked out off the blue.

Rose looked into his eyes and noticed for the first time how bright they were. „I don’t really think I hate you. To be honest, I don’t even remember what started us fighting half of the time. It just kind of happened.“

„Do you think, that maybe we could start over? We could go on one of my adventures,“ His eyes sparked hopefully.

Rose thought it over for a second. „Tell you what, when you get us out of this cell I’ll consider it.“

„Nothing simpler than that.“ The Doctor jumped up and went over to the door.

Rose blinked. „Why didn’t you do that from the start then?“ She shouted after him.

Friday, 3:24 PM

The rest of the week proceeded like nothing had ever happened. The rumors that something indecent happened in that holding cell circulated in the school so much that even fellow teacher started to speculate as well. Rose just tried to ignore it. Donna had been on her back for days and Jack simply gave a knowing grin.

She hadn’t talked to The Doctor. The last time she’d seen him was when Lethbridge-Stewart reprimanded them for the scene they made in the art gallery. „I hope he didn’t get fired,“ She had told Jack and could have kicked herself at the exact moment those words left her mouth. ‘Yes,‘ she admitted to herself. ‘You started to care about him.‘

„I hope you got all that down. I know it’s the last day of school before the Christmas holidays start but I can assure you that this is going to be important for the exam,“ The school bell rang and Rose started to clear the blackboard. „Happy holidays!“

Some girls started to giggle as they passed her on the way outside and Rose turned to the door. There he was. The Doctor stood there dressed completely in motorcycle gear.

„Hey,“ He smiled. Rose smiled back. „Where have you been?“ She stepped closer and studied his face. „And what have you done to your hair?“ He had cut it. It was shorter and less curly. „I had to make some preparations. Don’t you like the hair? I needed it shorter for the holiday break,“ His smile widened. „Rose Tyler, how do feel about a little adventure?“

Rose looked at him incredulous. „I-I need to pack.“

„That’s a yes, then?“ He chuckled. Rose agreed. „Yeah, let’s do it.“

The Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

„We’ll take the Tardis. That’s my motorcycle. Trusty old thing. Never let me down. Funny story how I got her actually. It all started in a little junkyard actually not that far from here….“

The End

#doctor who #dwsecretsanta #doctor x rose #forever-is-my-promise-to-you #eighth doctor #rose tyler #fanfic #My writing

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todokori-kun · 7 years ago

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Yeah, I think I’m ok :D (I’m gonna reread the entire series now though because my parents decided to buy it for me. I might cry during the reread…)

Ah, well. Death does make the most sense for Hohenheim, and now that I think about it, he was probably tired of living (that’s depressing but hey)

I don’t really know how I feel about Ed’s alchemy but I was a tiny bit disappointed because it felt like it was a small-ish price to pay to get Alphonse’s body back? Maybe it’s just me?

I’m always happy to get recs :D

WAIT. I actually know that book!!! I saw it when I was searching for a new fantasy series to read…most of the reviews were really negative and now I see why XD

Hisoka’s trash, but so is his best (only) friend (who could totally cut off his head with little to no regrets), Illumi. Illumi is the oldest son of the Zoldyck family. Let me tell you about the Zoldycks:

-asassins

-terrifying assassins

-baby assassins

-did I mention that they’re assassins?

-birthdays in the Zoldyck family=cake, presents, hugs

-the cake is probably poisoned to build up tolerance

-the presents are bombs

-mom’s probably hiding a knife in her skirt to stab you as she hugs you

-now figure out how to get out of this party alive

-good job, if you’re still fine by the end of the day momma is proud of you

-now go out into the world and murder people like a good child

-(Apparently they sometimes don’t bother to teach kids about manners and basic human interaction though, because Illumi has all the charm and social skills of a wet rag)

-(a wet rag with dead fish eyes)

-(a wet rag with dead fish eyes who literally digs holes in the ground and sleeps in them)

-(he’s also so obsessed with his adorable little brother Killua that he basically shoves a magic needle into Killua’s head and uses mind-control on him in order to make sure he never does anything dangerous)

-(even if that means controlling Killua so he’ll abandon his best friend to save himself)

tysm ;-;

sometimes I hate TG so much

Kimblee x Explosions vs. Alex x Shot glasses: which one is the bigger OTP?

Kimblee’s idea of sweet: “I only blew up twelve people and two buildings today. Are you proud of me?”

(and imagine when this couple gets into fights

Kimblee: “Really, Evans, I don’t understand why you can’t appreciate my art. I always support yours.”

Evans: “MY art doesn’t involve explosions! This ISN’T FUNNY, ok?!”

Kimblee: “No need to shout. And of course it’s not funny, it’s beautiful.”

Evans: “You know what, couple therapy. That’s what we need. Along with a lot of relationship counseling.”)

omg we’d literally be team rocket thank you for that mental image

That’s SO CUTE <333 I’d probably call you queen on purpose sorry not sorry

Evans might actually join you at some point. Poor Moblit would be left all on his own with three maniacs XD (I know right)

Hopefully Armin will live ;-; cinnamon roll child

I’m actually considered really tall for my age and I was actually mistaken for a college student once XD but yeah, I’m smol compared to you…

(that’s cool ^^ and wow, Levi.)

Glad I could make you laugh :D (I laughed way too hard while writing it too). But Kimblee would probably just blow up the court tbh

TYSM I’M SO HAPPY IT DOESN’T COMPLETELY SUCK ;-; and yeah, when I saw that quote I immediately thought of Uta…

I totally need help so yes, please, if it’s ok? TYSM <3

(and you’ve probably seen by now but I sent in two other aesthetics :D)

I adore all of FMA’S OPs and EDs. I agree with you, though, ‘Again’ is beautiful- I love the singer’s voice :)

I HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET BUT I’M TOTALLY GOING TO SEE IT NOW

Aww, it’s gonna be fine! You’ll get over it ^^ Eventually… And that’s so nice of your parents! I wonder if you’ll actually cry :))

Honestly, I can’t blame him… His life wasn’t all that nice, but he was at least reunited with his wife? So he’s probably happier this was ^^;;;

Well, considering how valuable alchemy is to Ed, and how much he actually relied on it, it might not be such a small price after all. But, then again, a whole body in exchange for a skill that could potentially be brought back, that might be a bit unfair, true… I’m just glad my cinnamon roll finally has his body back T^T

FATE/ZEROooooo. Zankyou no Terror. Re:Zero. All of these have plenty of suffering mixed in. Also, don’t let Re:Zero fool you with its light colors and character design. That is one of the most mentally draining anime I’ve watched recently, because it’s literally a never ending loop of suffering.

This is Re:Zero.

This is also Re:Zero. Pay attention to the head.

Oh god if I was a person who left reviews on books, I’d leave a whole wall of text for the review. There’s a difference between making a character seem perfect, but making that a facade and using it for character growth and actually making the chacter flawless. Wow, that book irritates me XD

I mean… we all have our own quirks? But wow that’s messed up, big time. Shoving a magical needle into your younger bro to ‘protect’ him? Boy, that’s like one of those ‘I’m pushing you away to protect you’ *proceeds to angst* plots. Is Killua by any chance one of the two kid main boys? Cause the name sounds familiar ^^

Tokyo Ghoul is the manga that you have the love-hate relationship with. It’s more hate, but whatever.

Well, Alex x shot glasses at least isn’t destructive? So I’ll pick that one over Kimblee x explosions any day XD

Right, so sweet. Instead of 40 buildings, he only blew up 12. You should buy him chocolate as a reward XD Hopefully he doesn’t blow that up as well...

If you ever get Kimblee into art, make sure to give a separate room for that, otherwise, it might become a hazard. I mean, I can imagine him filling up water balloons with paint, hanging them on a canvas and then blowing them up.

Who’d be the smol pokemon tho? ((I don’t know the names XD))

I’d probably become an actual tomato.

I feel sorry for Mobilt XD He wouldn’t have just Hanji to deal with anymore, he’d have to deal with us as well... Poor Moblit.

He will! The fandom would probably riot if anything happened to Armin, especially after we already had the scare.

Kimblee would blow up Shuu. No evidence left behind (other than the huge crater that was probably left after the explosions)

You’ll definitely grow some more soon ^^

Uta is the one who brings popcorn to the fights, because they entertain him.

I’ll be honest, when I saw Tatsuo’s aesthetic, my first thought was Jumin Han. Then I remembered you never played Mystic Messenger XD

Right, so the thing you have to watch the most when making aesthetics is color. Always have a color palette in mind, because it’ll make finding the right pictures easier. Pick a color and stick to it. That way, it’ll be a tiny bit better, since it’ll also please the eye more. Also dark/light shouldn’t mix too much. It’s better if you pick one of those and mix with another color. Heck, if you get stuck, you can at least search *(color) aesthetic* and find a pic that fits through that XD

SO WHAT DID YOU THINK?? I WAS ALMOST SCREAMING THE ENTIRE TIME, I’M SO EXCITEEEED

I’m sorry I didn’t answer yesterday, we had guests over and were preparing more or less the whole day. Among those guests was my 9 year old cousin, otherwise known as the most annoying kid on the planet. I wanted to punch a wall... First of all, I had to entertain him the whole time, and that’s not an easy feat for someone like him. I swear, the boy has worms in his ass or something, cause he can’t sit still for more than 10 seconds. Then, at one point, I took the laptop and started writing something, because inspiration struck (and internet died again). It was in english and he can barely speak the language, yet he was still trying to read what I wrote out loud and always asked me to translate what I was writing. At one point, I wrote the word ‘Shit’ and he went to my parents and told them ‘Luna is writing bad stuff’. I had to explain that the character swears a lot and that I actually keep it very kid-friendly with how it should be. Then, I received a message from my friend, but the two of us talk in english, so he started reading my texts out loud (a huge no-no for me, because I want my privacy when talking to people) and was basically being a brat the whole evening. Also, he chews with his mouth open. I almost ripped out my hair... True, I also get childish when he’s over, because he brings out that part of me. I mean, he’s the kid who tells me to let him win if we’re playing a game, even if the game is based on pure luck and I couldn’t let him win even if I wanted to. I sincerely hope your little sis is nicer than him XD

#evans #submission

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inawickedlittletown · 6 years ago

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Walking The Wire (119/155)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Eighteen

Stephen wasn’t exactly amazed by where they had ended up. Since learning the mystic arts and becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, he’d seen a lot. Experienced a lot. Being on a foreign planet was par for the course in a way. Stephen wasn’t even mourning the fact that he hadn’t even been able to have lunch. Or that he’d allowed Tony Stark to make the decision to not turn the alien ship around and go back home. A part him thought that maybe that was a good idea.

Back on the ship, he had been a little more focused on shaking everything that had happened off -- to just move past all the needles and how his entire day had gone from boring and average to the fate of the world being in his hands. Or rather around his neck. He’d been trying to just ignore that Stark was there and that he’d brought his kid along for some reason. He’d watched them for a time, seen how much Stark seemed to care about the boy. That had come to a head once they crash landed and Peter had been grabbed with a gun to his head and Stark had looked like he was going to kill the weird skinned alien on the floor. It had been so easy to see how absolutely serious Tony was.

Once it turned out that they were friendlies, Stephen had relaxed a little. One of them was even human which had been a crazy reveal and yet he supposed that it was a welcome one. But Stephen couldn’t concern himself with them and how they might help or hinder them since none of them seemed to be all that capable. Instead, Stephen had more important things to worry about. He needed to know if Stark’s plan to not return to Earth was a good one and if they would be able to protect the stone.

They were lucky that they hadn’t encountered anyone that actually did work for Thanos upon arriving, but there was no knowing when they would -- or when Thanos himself might arrive. Stephen suspected that the alien that had captured him had come to this planet to meet Thanos and give him the stone so it was a matter of time before he appeared and they didn’t have a plan on how to deal with that when it happened.

Before a plan, Stephen just needed to look at all the possible futures from this moment forward. Stark didn’t understand the importance of the Time Stone and how much of a difference it could make to have it and use it.

Being on a different planet was weird. The gravity was different which was odd once they got off the ship and onto the planet’s surface and Peter took a few steps. Mostly, Peter felt like his weight had changed. He stuck close to his dad, but Dr. Strange walked past them looking like he was in deep thought.

Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and steered him forward as Peter looked around and took everything in. Wherever they were, it was odd because there was oxygen and yet no visible life.It made Peter wonder about whether the planet had water. What it did have was a few moons and a sun. The planet had to be outside of their Solar System and possibly even their galaxy and while Peter didn’t know much about astrology, he knew that there were few planets that could sustain life and this one seemed like it could -- maybe. Or maybe they were breathing in something undetectable that would poison and kill them. The more he looked around, though, the more obvious it became that the planet seemed to be made up of ruins.

“Why do you think Thanos was coming here?” Peter asked.

His dad glanced at him. “Not sure but if those guys are here to go after Thanos then he’s coming here. They knew to come here looking for him.”

“Right,” Peter said with a nod. He was still a little bit annoyed by how easily he’d been grabbed.

“Quill,” Tony said.

“Star Lord,” he said.

“Sure sure, whatever,” Tony said, “what do we know about this planet? Where are we?”

Peter could tell that his dad hated having to ask but Star Lord would probably know more about it. It was also nice to know that his dad had probably been wondering the same things he was about the planet.

“This is Titan,” Star Lord said.

“Like Saturn’s moon?” Peter asked dubiously.

“No,” Star Lord said and shook his head. “We’re on the planet Titan.”

Peter was actually really curious about how someone from Missouri could end up in space travelling with some aliens and with clear knowledge of space and how it all worked. There had to be some sort of story there. Peter watched as Star Lord took out some sort of device that he waved around. A few seconds later he was frowning and looking a bit confused.

“The heck happened to this planet? It’s eight degrees off its axis. Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

Peter almost wanted to ask about how Star Lord could know that -- and what he was reading exactly to get that information or why it mattered so much. He had a whole bunch of questions but he was distracted from asking when one of Star Lord’s companions started jumping up and down, clearly enjoying the low gravity. They really had found a group of strange people.

“We got one advantage,” his dad said and Peter turned to him. “He’s coming to us.”

No one else reacted and it sort of seemed like his dad was mostly talking to himself and Peter. His dad seemed to have noticed the same thing because he started walking towards Star Lord. “We’ll use it,” he said. “Alright, I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one. It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don’t want to dance with this guy. We just need the gauntlet.”

Tony had told him about the gauntlet earlier -- what Bruce Banner had described to his dad anyway. It was a little unfair that Peter had only managed to catch a glimpse of Bruce Banner during the fight in New York. It wasn’t exactly the biggest thing to worry about, but the man was brilliant and Peter would have loved to actually meet him.

If everything that his dad had told him about Thanos was true, getting the gauntlet off of him was going to be so absolutely difficult. Peter didn’t even -- he didn’t know if he believed they could do it.

He watched in surprise as the big alien with weird markings made a show of yawning and Peter watched as his dad who had been stressing out probably since this had all started turned and Peter didn’t have to look at him to know he was annoyed.

“Are you yawning?” Tony asked and his voice was taking that tone that meant he was trying to hold back his anger. “In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said we need a plan.”

Tony turned to Star Lord. “Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.”

Star Lord sort of gave a half-shrug. “See, not winging it isn’t really what they do.”

Peter was sort of starting to figure out that they had somehow come upon some really useless people. They weren’t just weird but down right incapable.

“So, uh, what exactly do they do?” Peter asked.

The one with the antenas spoke up before Star Lord could. “Kick names. Take ass,” she said and both she and the other guy tried to look fierce. Peter didn’t even know how to respond to that.

When he looked at his dad, he could tell that Tony felt even worse. There was disbelief mixed up with maybe confusion and annoyance and Peter was surprised when his dad decided to just not comment on it. Maybe he felt like there was nothing that could be said.

“Alright, just get over here please. Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“Mr. Lord. No, Star Lord is fine,” Star Lord said and Peter was tempted to ask him what his real name was because that just couldn’t be it. One of them had called him Quill earlier, but he seemed to prefer Star Lord.

They ended up in a sort of circle.

“We gotta coalesce,” Tony said and he seemed look at all of them, “cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude--”

“Dude, don’t call us plucky,” Star Lord said as if that was important in that moment. “We don’t know what that means.”

Peter wondered if it was worth it to stick with them. Then again, Star Lord had managed to bring him down and hold a gun to his head earlier and they didn’t really know what the other two could do. Peter had to suppose that they had some level of skill to survive in space.

“Alright, we’re optimistic, yes,” Star Lord said when no one said anything. Then, he motioned at Tony. “I like your plan. Except it sucks. So, let me do the plan, and that way it might actually be really good.”

Peter had thought that the posturing he’d seen from Dr. Strange and Tony earlier had been bad. Although in retrospect it had mostly just been funny. This was a whole other thing altogether and Peter didn’t know what to make of it because the whole interaction just kept getting worse and worse especially once a dance-off came up. It made Peter want to ask a bunch of questions that he also sort of didn’t want any answers to because how had these people saved the universe by dancing? And why did Star Lord seemed upset that Footloose wasn’t considered a great movie? No one thought Footloose was a good movie.

Peter -- and probably Tony -- were grateful when their attention turned to Dr. Strange and whatever weird thing that he was in the middle of. Strange was glowing and floating and his face moved from side to side really fast.

Tony knew he was getting frustrated and he hated it. Hated that he didn’t have a team he trusted around him or that trusted him as well for that matter. Well, he might trust Strange -- at least he seemed to have a recognition for how serious it all was. After all, these jokers had been there looking for Gamora whoever that was, and while they seemed to have a notion for who Thanos was, Tony had to wonder if they knew what the stakes of all this were.

Tony had to remind himself that it was them or nothing. That they clearly understood Space better than he or Peter and Strange did and that they clearly did have some skills. If they managed to help him keep Peter alive, Tony would let them say whatever they wanted however they wanted to say it.

Tony hadn’t noticed that Strange went off on his own and that he had gotten lucky enough to not listen to Star Lord and his team. It wasn’t until one of them asked about Strange that Tony even thought about him and then he was rushing towards him.

Strange was jerking rapidly and yet floating with his legs folded as if he were in the middle of some weird meditation which Tony wouldn’t have put past him. Tony could tell that he was using the Time Stone because it was glowing and there was green mist surrounding him.

“Strange, we alright?” Tony asked as he approached him and Strange came out of the trancelike state. He jolted forward as his eyes opened.

Tony rushed towards him, grabbing his arm as he dropped out of the air looking mostly confused. “You’re back. You’re alright,” Tony said, trying to find out if there was anything wrong just by looking at Strange’s face. “Hi.”

For a moment they stared at each other and Tony couldn’t decipher what Strange was thinking or maybe trying to figure out.

“Hey, what was that?” Peter asked, taking Tony’s words before he could get them out. He came up behind Tony and Tony was glad. He wanted to keep Peteras close as possible.

Strange seemed a little winded and he looked a little dishevelled. There was a cut on his forehead from earlier as well as dried blood on parts of his face. It took a moment to answer. “I went forward in time to view alternate futures. To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

Of course he did. Tony didn’t know how the Time Stone worked exactly, but Strange had said that it would help them and this was good -- it was what they needed. Strange was thinking like him -- trying to plan ahead.

“How many did you see?” Star Lord asked.

Tony wanted to roll his eyes every time he thought about the name. They’d called him Quill earlier which was probably his real name -- maybe a last name. But Tony didn’t need to concern himself with that. Instead, he focused on Strange.

“Fourteen million six hundred and five,” Strange said and Tony could tell that whatever he’d seen in all those possible futures some of them must not have been good. But not all of them could have been bad--

“How many we win?” Tony asked and he wasn’t sure that he actually wanted the answer.

Strange looked back at him. Their eyes met and there seemed to be some sort of apology there even if Tony didn’t really want to think about what it could mean.

“One,” Strange said.

Oh, were the odds ever in their favor.

Chapter One Hundred Twenty

#peter and tony #peter and tony fic #mcuwriting #mcu fic #iron dad #iron dad and spider son #stony #stony fic #marvel

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