#rather ironically; had he been alive at the time; he might have been able to suggest why the heart wasn't burning

[phoenixblaze1412]

Hello there!!!👋

May I ask for some angst?

Dottore spending time with his biological child and the more the day progresses he sees his wife (who died a few day after giving birth to their child) in their child (A headcanon and/or small scenario plz)

Thank you!!!

Gonna make me cry anon.. also might have changed it a bit.

Taking care of a kid is a difficult task for Dottore himself. Especially if it was his own. A healthy baby girl, how ironic that she looked exactly the same as you. Neither of you didn't expect such a tragedy to happen, mostly him.

"Sir, she won't be able to make it." Omega stated, watching over your vital signs. Your body was currently too weak to deliver the baby, and being in labor wasn't helping a lot.

"Then let the child die. I'd rather lose the kid than lose my wife." Dottore snapped as he quickly went and placed an oxygen mask over you, tucking away the lose strands of your hair away from your face. He was quick to notice your breathing becoming more heavy and labored.

"Both her and the child will die if we continue with that idea!" the Theta segment exclaimed.

The three of them were quick to shut up when they heard your pained groans. Immediately examining and looking you over to at least lessen the pain you were experiencing but still keeping you conscious.

Dottore was already in a state of anger and worry, thinking up of multiple solutions to get the child out of you all the while keeping you alive but that seems to be difficult since you don't even have the strength to push the baby out so maybe a c-section will do but the chance of you dying is big. He was quick to come out of his thoughts when you grabbed his arm, making him focus his attention to you.

"Zandik please.. promise me you won't let our baby die."

He let out a deep sigh before nodding at your request. Even at times like these, he could never say no to you. He called over a few more segments to begin your surgery. A simple c-section, nothing to worry about right? But why was he, he of all people suddenly felt fear as he held the scalpel upon your stomach.

It's not right. He knows this will end up badly if he continued, he already felt it. Snapping out of his thoughts once more when he heard you cry out in pain, he nodded to his segments to sedate you for a bit as he began the operation.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours. Every segment waited anxiously as they watched their creator work strenuously. The once silent room was filled with small cries as Dottore held his newborn child, dirty from all the blood and amniotic fluid but alive and well. Iota walked over to take the baby from Dottore to clean her up as the doctor went and stitched you up while the other segments who were present had cheerful grins along their faces.

Their happiness was quickly cut off the moment they heard the sound of your heart monitor dropping. Dottore glanced up and glared at Omega, cursing under his breath as he finished stitching you up to help Omega with keeping you stable.

"You incompetent fool! I gave you one job!"

Panic. That's what they're all feeling the moment when you became cardiac asystole. Dottore and Omega resuscitating you the best they can, even using electro to give your heart a shock to at least show any heart rhythm but none came.

"(Y/N) please wake up! You can't leave me! Come on! Your child- our child is safe and awake now it's your turn to wake up please!"

It's been fifteen minutes max with no signs of you showing any heartbeat, the segments could only look away, not wanting to cry in front of you. The sudden weight being placed upon them at the news of your death was overbearing.

Even Iota couldn't believe it. But even so, he couldn't cause any tantrums, he couldn't yell or even throw anything out of anguish. He was holding your child at the moment. The baby you left to them before you passed. It took him a few minutes to calm the baby down and wrap her up in a blanket.

Meanwhile Dottore was still leaning over your figure, his hand held yours as he leaned his forehead against your knuckles. Both of your wedding rings, glimmering against the light.

Dottore knew something bad was going to happen. He felt it bubbling in his guts yet he let it happen. The moment Iota walked back into the room with his daughter in his hold, Dottore glared at them.

"I don't want to see that thing near me. Dispose of it immediately. Give it to the Knave or send it someplace else."

Iota was quick to snap at the order, sure he's still in despair about losing you like how the others feel but his creator telling him to dispose of your own offspring is not what he expected to hear.

"What are you thinking?! (Y/N) carried your child for months, having to go through all the hardships a pregnant woman would go through and here you are disposing her efforts?!"

"I already knew from the start that saving the child would end up with her death! I would have preferred to save her instead of the child!"

"Would she want you to?! You know her well enough to know that she would rather risk herself in danger to save a life! She already said it herself before the operation! You promised her not to let the child die!"

Dottore was quick to shut up, looking over at the little figure bundled up in the blankets. Thoughts filled with 'what if's' as he looked back at your figure on the examining bed.

What if he chose to save you instead of his child? Would you even be happy towards him if you knew about his plans?

A soft coo was heard as Iota looked down at the baby before carefully handing her over to Dottore. The doctor was hesitant at first but he took the chance to hold his own child in his arms. The baby let out little babbles and gargles as her hands reach out to the doctor and tried to grab at his hair.

Dottore observed her actions, looking over her features and letting out a bitter laugh at how his own daughter had most of your features. It's like the gods are being cruel and making his own heart hurt more than it already is.

"From now on, your name will be ■■■■. (Y/N) thought of that name for you."

"Papa? Wake up!"

Dottore slowly opened his eyes and noticed he had fallen asleep on the grass. Finally remembering that he was joining his daughter in the forests of Sumeru to look for some flowers. He was assigned on a mission to take the dendro, along with the electro gnosis back as soon as possible but his daughter wanted to explore a bit and take a break.

Dottore glanced up and squinted his eyes as he stared up at the figure leaning over him. Eyes widening in surprise as he stared at you, the light shining brightly from behind you made you look so angelic and beautiful. He continued to stare at you, tears pricking the corner of his eyes, your face so full of life and a grin plastered on your face as you looked back at him.

He tried to reach his hand out to you but you quickly vanished the moment he blinked and was now staring at his four year old daughter.

"Are you okay papa? Why are you crying?"

Dottore was quick to wipe the tears away from his eyes as he sat up and looked over his child. Oh how he misses you so. Everytime he looks and talks to his child it felt like it was him talking to you instead. Your looks, the way you talk, even your attitude was passed onto your daughter.

He could only laugh at the idea that if you were still with them, he would be having two of the most sassiest women in Teyvat in his life. He got up on his feet and ruffled his daughter's hair.

"Have you gotten what you needed, little one?"

"Mhm! I finally got these flowers! Iota told me all about them and I wanted to take some home myself."

She held up a bouquet of padisarah flowers, the doctor could only stare in surprise at how she even got them, moreso why did Iota even told her about it.

"Iota told me how they were mama's favorite flowers and showed me pictures of her holding them. He told me how you would always gift her a bouquet of these whenever you came back from Sumeru and I wanted to give these to mama too... can I give these to her? Will mama like it?"

"...she would love them a lot, my child. Now come on, once I finished my mission then we can visit your mother and give her these gifts. She would be happy to receive these flowers from you."

[ranticore]

just wanted to say i absolutely love ur characters. each and every one of them is such a joy to follow. genuinely cant say how many times i've reread ur books at this point. i love them and i would hate being around any of them (special mention to my boy erica for being both the coolest and lamest person alive and jean for. being jean)

thank you so much for sending this 🧡and also for so completely understanding eri's character

here is a snippet (might be used, might not) from one of the openings of the third book i've written:

“What is it that we call you these days, anyhow?” Erica went on, falling into step beside him. His fingernails were black, as if he’d been scratching coals. “And why am I needed?” “We found explosives at the Spurs barracks,” Félix said. Any remnant of resentment or anger that might have showed on Erica’s narrow, shrewd features was wiped away in an instant. He practically bounced on ahead, leaving Félix to wrestle with the mule who pulled one of the emptier supply carts. “Wait just a moment!” Félix called, finally getting the animal to pull into a trot. Erica mounted one of the steps at the back of the cart as it passed by. “What kind of explosives?” “The kind that explodes, how am I to know? You’re the expert.” Félix settled himself into the driving position, finally, wincing as the movement of the cart rattled up through his knee. “It was wrote on the box, 'N I T R O-'” “Nitroglycerin?” Erica looked elated at that. “Ah, I know you were sent for Jean but you should have asked for me first, Ortega. You’re less wrong than usual; of the two of us, he may be the physicist, but I am the chemist.” “I don’t give a fuck what it is,” Félix said, stubbornly, “and I don’t care to know. We only need to transport it.”

“Naturally. Do we know why it is there?” Erica was speaking directly over Félix’s shoulder, suddenly, his tangled black mane brushing against Félix’s perfectly clean chestnut brown hair. It was a reasonable question and one at which Félix could only guess. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said, rather than admit ignorance. “They’re storing it all away from the townsfolk so that they don’t set it off by mistake.” “Evidently,” said Erica, “but why have it at all? This is not a mining town.” “It ain’t an army town, either,” Félix said, “but they managed to drum up a firing squad for those rangers.” Erica’s black eyes turned to the distant grey-brown line made by the sea on the western horizon. The sea had always struck Félix as something very ugly, as much as he would have liked to have believed in the romanticised vision of foam and waves in many of the books he’d read. His first association with it had always been the filthy armpit of Amhan bay, mud flats that seethed with salt flies and threatened to trap him as he dug for whelks and razor clams. He recalled the excited voice of Cypress exclaiming over the northern sea past Aberharain, how beautiful it was, how vast. Félix had been able to forget the truth and believe it then. He’d made quite a habit of forgetting the truth, where Cypress was concerned. Now he followed Erica’s gaze and glared at the ugly brown smear, and wrinkled his nose against the distant reek of rotten seaweed and mud. “I’ve heard of a fishing method,” Erica said, “whereupon a fisherman lights a blasting cap and drops it overboard.” Félix snorted. “Where’d you hear that? Jean? What he knows of the real world couldn’t fill a thimble. That goes for you, as well. I could tell you any aul bullshit and you’d believe it.” “I would try,” Erica said, a tiny, ironic little smile hovering about his lips. “Indulging in fiction could only bring me relief.” The shape of the fortress filled the end of the road again with its attendant smell of burning death, and opportunities for light-hearted conversation died with it. The open graves lining the bottom of the wall were still being fed with soil and bodies. Some of the rangers had tied cloths over their mouths, but most had just got on with the work, up to their elbows in mud. “The place was burned,” Erica remarked, as Félix steered the cart as close to the store-room entrance as he could go. “And the explosives remain miraculously intact. Are you certain you can read?" “They were put there after the fire ended, genius,” Félix said. He set himself back down on the ground, with as much grace as could be managed, and still felt it when his bad knee took his weight. The stray dogs had grown less cautious about the graves, and one now lay motionless with an arrow in its chest put there by the ranger on guard. Félix stepped gingerly over it.

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 7

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, fluff, sad goodbyes (finnick refuses to actually say goodbye) and canon typical violence... like, a lot of it. Anyways, happy hunger games.

Chapter Summary: The countdown is on. The goodbyes need be said, the tributes must prepare themselves. The bloodbath is soon at hand, a daring start to the 71st hunger games.

Word Count: 3.0k

okay listen this is the beginning of a long and winding road. there's nothing in this chapter for me to fear for my life over but lord above the next few chapters might make me get my ass kicked (in a loving way ofc)

“Mercedes,” he said softly, handing to you the final pieces of your official game attire. “The Greek goddess of joy and happiness.”  You smiled, the description of your name was the exact reason it was given to you. You hadn’t been named for five days, mostly because your parents had been expecting a boy. In those five days, you’d smiled so much more than any baby they had ever seen. The name only seemed fitting, as you had been filled with joy and happiness. How ironic that a person with such a name would end up here?

If any of the tributes were able to sleep peacefully last night, you would be thoroughly surprised. Once you’d finally reached a restful state, your mind jumped you awake every single time to remind you once again that you were hours away from your possible demise. The bloodbath. All careers are expected to run straight into the chaos. If you want to keep them as allies, it is your duty to do what is expected. You have to conform to stay alive. 

Even though you’d rather grab a knapsack and run far away from the center of the arena, you know that you’re signing your death certificate if you do. It doesn’t matter how strong you are. You have to stay with the allies you made, or you’ll be at the top of their list. Lukas can help you if you need it, you know that for certain. Even if you don’t really trust the others, Rodey, Copelin and Freeda seem nice enough. You know to watch your back with Estelle, but otherwise, you think you’ve made a solid enough impression that they won’t double cross you. 

Yesterday, on the flickerman show, you all were too busy celebrating to focus on the fact that there was still another tribute with a perfect score, from district eleven. His name was Brock. You assumed that he was going to be the biggest threat against the career pack. You didn’t listen to his skills or even his interview, but you knew that if there was anyone to be afraid of, it was him. 

“You ready?” Lukas called to you from your bedroom door. You’d been given a temporary change of clothes for the time being until you were able to make it to the site of the arena. There, your stylist would be waiting to dress you in your actual game play attire.

You nodded, standing up and going to meet him where he stood. He seemed so calm, as did you on the outside. Perhaps it was the way you both were trying so hard to be strong, emotionless, or maybe it was simply the fact that you just wanted to get this over with. After all the pageantry is over, the only thing left to do is die. You just wished it wasn’t such a long process. The games were about sending a message, and that message was that the tributes were not just sacrifices, they were pawns. They were used to show just how much control the capitol had over everything. If they wanted to punish the districts, they could have just lined up twenty three kids every year and shot them down… but the hunger games were about exuding their influence, to let the people know that they could never fight back, and here are the consequences.

Finnick and Mags were waiting outside of the tribute center. Both of them looked sullen, as you can imagine this was a hard thing for them. Having to watch the tributes they worked so hard to prepare, leaving the building where there was a last sense of security. It made sense to say that even in the proudest of moments, they would still be sad for what they have lost. Even if one of you wins, one of you will become a permanent addition to the arena, and there’s nothing they can do about it. All they can do is hope that at least one of you comes home. 

Finnick was up late last night thinking, as were most of the other people in the building. He left the party kind of early, as even though he wished to distract himself, he had no desire to sit and think about the many outcomes of your future. Especially whilst surrounded by those who knew all too well what it was like to see the end of someone’s future. The end of someone’s life. They were all victims of the Capitol, but they all had blood on their hands that wasn’t their own. Finnick had more than most, and he understood that there was always a price to pay for his life being spared… but thinking that today is the day that he loses his best hope, he has no chance of resting until the games are over.

“This is where we part ways,” He said solemnly. The vast expanse of the sunrise getting higher was nothing today. It meant nothing because it couldn’t be appreciated. Even though the colors of the sky were brilliant, lighting the scene in the colored hues, it didn’t matter, because it didn’t change anything about today.

“Thank you Finnick, you’ve given us a better chance than we ever had.” Lukas reached his hand out to Finnick, and likewise, Mags had stepped forward to embrace you. Her warmth and sweetness was the only thing that brought a taste of home to this journey. You only could dream of seeing her again, and feeling her arms around you. 

“Stay strong, don’t let your guard down. Most importantly, stay together, no matter what happens.” Finnick’s last words of advice had no need to be said, because Lukas had already understood their importance. He just wanted so badly for Lukas to know that you were his best ally. He knew Lukas wouldn’t cross you, probably wouldn’t even kill you if you were the only other person alive… but he had to make sure those words were repeated until the last second.. 

“Mags,” Lukas turned to her, his heart leaping in his chest at the mother he never had. The mother he always wanted but was denied. “Thank you.”

You traded places with Lukas, letting him say goodbye to her as you know he wants to. You turn to Finnick, looking up to those sea green eyes. They reflected your sadness, but you tried not to dwell on it. You might never see him again, you don’t want to have the last memory be a sad one. 

You reached for each other, arms clinging around your bodies in an attempt to stay close, and not be forced apart. Whatever the outcome, this embrace will be remembered. You didn’t want to cry, but tears came to the corners of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to try and force them to a stop. Your face was tucked into his shoulder, the smell of him was what you would take into the arena today. You’d dwell on it, and think of it if you died later. 

“I h-have so much I w-want to say to you.”

“Then say it when you get back,” he whispered in reply, his arms becoming impossibly tighter around you until you all heard the engines of the carriers start up. 

It’s time to go. 

You all part from each other, beginning to walk to the separate carriers awaiting on the landing pad. You look back, and Finnick is staring on, trying to catch every last glimpse of his favored tribute before it’s too late. He’ll be seeing you on a screen, but that’s not good enough.

As you board the aircraft with the other tributes, he gets one last look at your bare shoulder, and the windswept hair sitting over it. After that, the only thing he can do is remember. If that’s the last time he ever sees you, he doesn’t know what will come next for him. 

-

Dalton made you smile, a familiar face in the darkest hour, right before the chaos. 

“Mercedes,” he said softly, handing to you the final pieces of your official game attire. “The Greek goddess of joy and happiness.” 

You smiled, the description of your name was the exact reason it was given to you. You hadn’t been named for five days, mostly because your parents had been expecting a boy. In those five days, you’d smiled so much more than any baby they had ever seen. The name only seemed fitting, as you had been filled with joy and happiness. How ironic that a person with such a name would end up here?

“Based on what we’ve been told to prepare for the tributes, I would say you’re looking at a humid climate. Maybe desert or tropical. The directions were to provide breathable material… It could be biome, even.”

You weren’t sure if this rundown was something all the stylists gave. Or if there were just a few that cared more about their tributes. Dalton seemed to care more than any other Capitol member you’ve met thus far, which made him something of an ally in himself. 

“Will there be a l-lot of water?”

He smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

“There’s no way to know for sure. You might be looking at an oasis, it might just be small portions meant for tribute survival. There’s no real way of anyone knowing yet.”

You nodded, standing up and pulling the short sleeve tunic over your head. It was so thin it could be considered mesh, but it provided full coverage of your torso, hiding the black and gray sports attire you were given to wear beneath it. 

“The cargo bottoms lead me to believe that they want you to travel lightly. The pockets will provide ample room for things you might grab out of the packs. My advice would be to leave anything of substantial weight and only keep what you need.”

They want you to be quick on your feet. They don’t want you to be easily stuck in one place… does that mean you’re going to be chased? By something other than tributes?

There was a loud alarm sound that buzzed in the outside hallway of the private room. You looked to the ceiling with fear… it was starting. 

“Hey,” he snapped your attention back one more time. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you. And I hope we meet again.”

“Thank y-you. I hope I s-see you again, too.”

He leaned in and gave you a simple hug. Nothing long and lasting, but comforting enough that you could leave the room feeling better than you did when you went into it. You wished Finnick had been the one to see you off. Sadly, that didn’t fall under his job description. 

Dalton walked you into the hallway and down to the chamber labeled ‘female, four.’

Your heart started racing, and you realized only now how tired you were. Having tossed and turned and been completely and totally anxious the night before, you felt the sting of exhaustion hit you as you stepped into the lift. 

“Don’t be afraid. You are stronger than you could possibly know.”

The lift sealed, and though you wanted to say something in reply, you feel as though words would have failed you anyways. Your words always did. 

The anxiety heightened when the lift moved, the upwards drag of the mechanisms turning your stomach to mush. You’re a career. You will survive the bloodbath. Your allies are the strongest ones in the arena. You will survive through the day. 

When the arena showed itself to you, it seemed to be something of a rainforest. Barely any sun for the giant trees overhead, even in the clearing. It was humid and sticky in the air, which meant water would be everywhere, and as you were assuming, rain. 

This rainforest probably was crawling with capitol mutt wildlife, and you couldn’t help but feel like that would be the main danger. 

The clock was counting down at the cornucopia, thirty seconds remaining until the games began. You searched the platforms for an ally, and found two. Freeda and Rodey. Rodey who seemed to like you quite a bit. You would stick by him until you could find Lukas. He must have been further on the other side, because you certainly could not see him from here. 

Rodey happened to make eye contact with you, and you nodded to him, getting into a running stance. His head tilted towards the left side of the cornucopia, where all the weapons were spread out across from the food. He would run there first, so that’s where you would go. 

Your heart was beating harder and faster than ever it has before, and with every tick of the clock, every number counted down, it got faster, and faster, and faster… until the clock hit zero. 

Your feet were running the mossy grounds the second you stepped off. Copelin was the first to reach the center, grabbing a spear and a knife, throwing the knife at the first non-career tribute that attempted to grab something, you didn’t dare look behind you at whoever it was he’d hit, you only heard their cry of pain before a cannon sounded. The first of many, and you hated it already... You finally saw Lukas, as he was the second one to a weapon. He took a short sword, and tossed to you a long weighted club, you'd made it there third. You didn’t intend on using it, but it was good to have. Freeda was seen next to Estelle, running and grabbing the bow and arrows. You heard the cry of an angry tribute behind you, turning to see the boy from seven with an ax. He was coming at you with incredible speed, but you managed to use your club to deflect his first hit. You were about to try and unarm him before a Kunai knife was thrown from behind you and into his face. He was down immediately, and you didn’t have time to think about the fact that he was the first death you’d ever witnessed, you only listened to the second boom of the cannon, now connecting the sight and sound. You just stood up and turned to Rodey, his arms holding out a sword for you to take. It felt heavy in your hands, and even though you could easily bear the weight of the blade, you doubted you could take the weight of what it would do to the people around you. 

Lukas hadn’t killed anyone yet, but he aided both Copelin and Estelle in taking down the girls from six and eight. Your kill count was zero, and your assist count was zero. You were going to do everything in your power to keep it that way. This wasn’t training anymore. There weren’t any prissy Capitol snobs that could punish you for not doing as they say. You’ve come to die, and you won’t go out a murderer. 

You decided to busy yourself, to make it look like you were helping the team, but without seeming like a coward from staying away from the fight. You rushed behind Rodey and Lukas, hearing three more cannons go off as you scrounged through the supplies. Ropes, sleeping bags, medical supplies. Hell, even snack bars. You started packing them into the backpacks, seeing as though they only contained a flask, a rope, and a hunting knife. 

You weren’t sure what the plan was yet, but you knew you would be needing all of these things at some point, so it made sense to gather them together instead of letting them get taken by run-by tributes. You mentally apologized to them, for taking the resources that could mean the difference between losing or keeping their lives. It was you or them, that was what you needed to start thinking. But you really hated the thought that your life should be considered worth more than anyone else's. It’s not.

Several cannons and a bloodbath later, the fighting stopped. You had gotten everyone a backpack, handing it to them once the career pack was the only group left on the field. It was only when you turned around that you started to feel sick. All those cannons, the sounds were of little consequence until you saw what they left behind. Fallen tributes. Eight, you counted. They all lay in the mossy patches on the ground, a once beautiful clearing already tarnished with the blood of the district's children. 

You didn’t say a word, just handed out the packs you’d prepared, letting them look through and grab what they wanted, keeping what they did and exchanging what they didn’t. You did the same, grabbing Lukas by the arm and pulling him to the side. You opened the top of your pack, showing him the rope and lures you'd stashed away. There had to be water somewhere in this jungle, and when you found it, you were sure that fishing would be a good option to keep the other food supplies stocked up. 

“That’s good,” he said, nodding to you and giving you a once over. You had splattered blood of that kid from seven on your face. Your hands, even trying to hold strong, were shaking. The expression you wore was a facade, but he could see the tinge of guilt hanging in your eyes, even though you hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. He had. He killed a boy, the one his age, from six. He kept reminding himself that this was self defense. Every single person in this arena was fighting against one another in self defense, because none of them wanted to be here. Even the careers who volunteer don’t want to die, they just like the attention. Now, when the fun is mostly over, they would rather be in their own districts as well. Every child in this arena just wants to go home, and in order to do that, the others must die. Lukas is no different from every other tribute in this hell hole, and though his mind feels heavy, he tries to lighten the load by thinking that perhaps he can go home at the end of this. All these dead kids around him are providing him a way home, even though it comes as a great cost of sacrifice. “Are you okay?”

You look back at him, and all you can do not to fall apart is nod. He understands the need for silence. Your mouth couldn’t even say the words you wished to anyway, so you’d rather spare yourself the trouble and not say anything at all.

“Alright,” he turned in the direction of the others, walking back and feeling your presence follow behind him. The others looked at him in expectation, in waiting. Lukas was the top dog, he’d be giving the orders. Copelin leaned forward, wiping the blood off his hands into his pants. He turned to Lukas fully, raising his voice in a question. 

“What’s the plan?”

-

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

[idcfriend]

How do they know?...

[Author here please keep in mind that this is an au and that most of it isn't cannon in either twst or disney, I'm more or less just mixing fact and fiction. SORRY IF It's TOO long]

When Yuu woke up in a coffin they were expecting to have somehow been buried alive not that they somehow got sent to a Disney's equivalent of a modern college. Don't get them wrong they love Disney and everything to do with it but that didn't mean they wanted to apart of it!

But since they're already there they might as well as make the best of it(plus maybe at long last their concerning amount of Disney knowledge can come in handy)

So when Crowley had led them to the...interesting...sight that was Ramshackle they honestly were ready to just role with punches which is when a certain blue flame eared cat appeared they weren't too concerned, not even when they were made aware of their ghostly roommates hell they even befriended them by the time got back having even been told their names which were Michael(skinny one), Anthony(medium one) and Christopher(big one).

And while they weren't pleased at having been made into a handyman/janitor. Which is how they found themselves looking at the statues of their favorite disney villians.

"Hey henchman! Whose this lady?!" shouted Grim ponting at one of the statues, snapping you out of your thoughts of how you ended up in this situation

You looked over seeing him pointing at the Queen of Hearts statue

"Do you really not know who she is?" he asked looking like he couldn't believe someone hadn't heard of the Great Seven.

"Well she's- I can't believe you don't know who the Queen of hearts is!" you were interrupted before you could answer, the person that interrupted being an orange haired guy with a heart over his left eye.

"Well actually- Yeah! Is she some big shot?" you sighed annoyed at being cut off again this time by Grim.

She was a queen who lived in a mazelike garden of roses long, long ago.

She was a strict woman who prized order above all. She wouldn't tolerate a rose being off-color, or her playing-card soldiers being out of step.

"She basically ruled over a kingdom of madness, but not one of her subjects dared to defy her.

You wanna know why? Because the punishment for breaking a rule was immediate decapitation!"

"Woah! that's messed up!" Grim exclaimed looking surprised

"I think it's pretty cool, besides no one would bother to obey a queen if they were kind all the time." said the guy

You zoned out a bot thinking of the queen's backstory and unconsciously saying, "You know it's kind of ironic that even though she ruled over a kingdom of madness she was probably the most sane person there because even though her rules were seen as odd or even downright idiotic they were the only thing keeping her kingdom and its citizens from truly becoming 'mad' for without her rules there would of been no sense of order among the madness. She had a sister who was known as the White Queen who while many thought a good queen preferred to succumb to the madness rather than try to prevent it. While the Queen of Hearts was known to have decapitated many she truly never did so without good reason even if it didn't seem that way, for example she once decapitated three card soldiers for not having painted the roses red but in truth she had done so because not only had they been found to have disrespected the crown but they also had been stealing from the castle, it was also known that is the Queen was ever mad that you should inform the King because while their marriage was arranged they did love each other for he was the only one to be able to calm the Queen, she loved the King dearly for she would even stop a beheading if he asked" when you didn't hear any talking you turned to look at Grim and the guy looking at you as if you had said that the sky actually red and they were just realizing it.

"What?" you asked looking a little nervous, had you said to much? Plus you could of sworn that after your explanation you could feel someone or something looking at you in curiosity from the direction of the Queen of Heart's statue

They both seemed to have snapped out of their shock because they continued to talk

"You know i never thought of it like that, the name's Ace Trappola, first year student as of today, nice to meet 'ya!" he said with a grin that didn't seem all that genuine but maybe you were just seeing things...

"I'm the Great Grim! And this is my henchman Yuu!"

"For the last time, I'm not your henchman Grim" you sighed a bit irritated at being being basically called a servant

"Yuu? that's an odd name" said Ace looking at you curiously

"Sup" you said with a slight wave

"So Ace tell me is the lion with a scar on his eye a famous ruler too?"

"Of course!

That's the King of Beasts who ruled the savanna.

But he wasn't born into the throne - he had to earn it through hard work and elaborate schemes.

When he became king, he decreed that the hyenas would be pariahs no more, and should live among his subjects as equals."

"Sounds like a great guy! Not everyone's able to look past social status like that." Grim said looking at Scar in awe, "Hey henchman what do you know anything about him too?" Grim asked looking at you in question wanting to know more

You thought for a bit thinking of what to say since there's a few different iterations of Scar's backstory, "His original name isn't actually Scar it used to be Askari after one of his ancestors and he used to lead a group dedicated to protecting the Pride lands called the 'Lion Guard' but then another lion told him that he could help him become king but when he refused not wanting to betray his brother the other lion had a cobra bite his eye hence the reason for the scar, then the lion told him that he could cure the cobra's venom in return for Askari's servitude but not wanting to give in and with the cobra's venom affecting his mental state he used what was called "The Roar of the Elders" in a fit of rage. He then reported what happened to his elder brother Mufasa wanting his brother to know of the event but instead of congratulating Askari and helping him with the venom that was still coursing through his veins Mufasa belittled and shunned for his actions which was then made worse when his own brother had given him the nickname Scar which eventually became his only name" you said feeling that even if his actions were a bit extreme Scar's action were still a bit justified

"All in all he was a great leader all things considered" you said with finality feeling a sense of pride emanating from Scar's statue

At some point some students had stopped to listen wanting to know what you were talking about some of which had even heard what you said about the Queen of Hearts.

"Geez sounds like he had it rough, who's the lady with octopus legs?" Grim asked wanting to know about the other statues (more from you rather Ace really)

"Uh she's the Sea Witch..." Ace said trailing off still processing what you had just before shaking his head continuing his explanation (wanting to know what else you knew about the great seven not that he was going to admit it) "who lived in an underwater grotto.

She basically devoted her life to helping troubled merfolk.

If they were willing to pay the price, she'd help them change their appearance, find love, whatever!

They say she was so good, there was no wish she couldn't grant. They also say the price was a tad steep, though.

But she was granting wishes! Of course it was!"

They both then looked in your direction causing you to sigh knowing you were going to have some of what you knew about the others too at this point

"She was known as the Sea Witch yes but not she was also King Triton's sister, where as Triton got the position of King and their father's trident Ursula got magic unlike any merfolk, this cause many to be envious and spread rumors of her being power hungry and dabbling in the dark arts, this lead to her reputation as the Sea Witch to spread which she didn't mind until the rumors became more and more sinister causing mny to fear her so when the King heard these rumors instead of trying to find if these rumors were true banished his only daughter, this caused Ursula to feel betrayed and bitter but during her banishment she took in a pair of young eel twins called Flotsam and Jetsam which she treated as her own calling them her babies, and while still feeling bitter if any of the merfolk seeked her out she would help with her magic but she couldn't do it for free for there must be balance in all things including magic for which she created 'contracts' that way there would be a way for the merfolk to get their wish while keeping a balance but many tried to cheat her contracts causing them to be punished by becoming something similar to 'weeds' due to their magick being sucked dry in order to balance the contract, so many merfolk broke her contracts that she had a sizable garden of 'weeds'"

Ace looked a bit uncomfortable " wow talk about reaping what you sow" he said with a grimace

"The guy with the big hat next!" Grim exclaimed not even talking about Ace at this point but Ace still answered anyway

"That's the Sorcerer of the Sands.

He was an advisor to a total dolt of a sultan. He was a smart guy. Really capable sort.

He exposed this swindler once - some guy pretending to be a prince in order to trick the princess!

After that, he got this magic lamp and became the greatest sorcerer in the world. Then, they say...

... he used that power to become sultan himself!"

Ace said a bit impressed, he then looked at you wanting to know what you had to say

"While Jafar was a well respected individual in Agrabah being the royal advisor and magician second in political power only to the sultan himself he wasn't always that way, infact he used to nothing more but a poor commoner from the worst part of the slums, back then he wasn't respected at all and was nothing more than a thief and a street rat stealing to survive and even if he was looked down upon he didn't give for the simple reason that if he did his beloved younger twin sister would be left alone to fend for herself, one day while trying to steal some bread he ran into a...i guess you could call a scholar who took him and his sister in and taught them and as time passed and Jafar rised in rank the scholar which he and his sister came to see as family couldn't be more proud but one day as a visiting royal visited the palace the scholar caught their eye and so the greedy royal made a deal with the Sultan that is he gave them the scholar he would establish trade with Agrabah, the Sultan not seeing anything wrong with this proposal seeing as they were only a scholar agreed. When the visiting royal and his men came to the scholars house Jafar having heard of the deal refused to let a member of his family be taken but there was nothing he could do and as the scholar said his goodbyes to the two children he had raised and after telling Jafar to protect his sister was dragged away, Jafar swore he would get them back, that he would rise high enough in rank where no one could refute him and his family would never be separated again and that he would make the Sultan regret his decision. Soon Jafar became the Sultan's advisor but when he search for the scholar he could not find them this caused him to despair making him swear to protect the only family he had left and that he would make sure that no one else suffered as he had by advising the Sultan." you finished explaining

"Guess it's true that a mage needs to be an excellent judge of character, huh?", Grim said looking at Jafar's statue with a sense of respect, "And what about this beauty over here?"

"She's a queen who was said to be the fairest in all the land.

In fact, she used her magic mirror to check how she ranked on a daily basis!

When it looked like her position was threatened, they say she'd do whatever it took to keep it.

Can you even imagine the level of dedication it would require to keep a record like that?

Also, they say she was a master of making poisons!"

"You make her sound so shallow" you said scrunching up your nose in distaste, " while yes the Queen valued beauty, she also valued hard work for before she was queen she was a simple commoner and while many claimed she was the cause of her husbands untimely death she truly did love the king but once her stepdaughter started to mature and resemble her late mother more and more each day, she noticed how her beloved king would gaze at the girl she considered her own with eyes no that no father should look at their daughter with and when her daughter for she was her daughter in everything but blood came to her with tears and told her how her father would touch her, the Queen saw red and with a heavy heart called her loyal huntsman and instructed him to take her to the dwarves in the forest and to tell them to keep her safe. Once her huntsman returned the Queen made sure to put a few drops of poison in king's wine for even though he was her beloved husband she would not him hurt her precious child"

"Geez. She's pretty, but that sounds kinda scary." said Grim with a shudder

"Really? I kinda respect it" replied Ace

"F-for sure... Sounds like she fought hard for what she believed in, and never gave up!

And the one there, with the flaming head? Now THAT guy looks scary!" shouted Grim

"That's the King of the underworld!

Single-handedly ruling a kingdom packed with rambunctious spirits - that takes competence!

He may look scary, but he was a straight shooter who worked tirelessly at a tough job he never even asked for.

I mean, this is the guy who was ordering Cerberus, the Hydra, and the Titans into battle for him." explained Ace with a look of obvious respect

"While he hadn't taken his job willingly he still was loyal to those he considered family even is their relationships were strained, working along side the fates while keeping order of the underworld is no easy feat, he wasn't the most well liked in Olympus even though his position was one that could be considered of equal or higher status than Zeus (author note: you can't tell me isn't, he's basically the king of the dead) he also loved wholly and completely as was demonstrated with his wife Persephone the goddess of Spring" you happily explained since he was one of your favorites

"Hmm. That IS something. T'think he could have that much power and not let it go to his head!

And that last one there, with the horns?" asked Grim

"That's the Thorn Fairy who lived on a mythical mountain.

She was noble and elegant, and a master of magic and curses - even by the standards of these seven!

She commanded storms, covered the kingdom with thorns... She could use magic on a massive scale!

She could even turn herself into a giant dragon."

You sighed in relief seeing as this was the last one, " She was an orphan who lived in the Moors and she thought herself the last of her kind, one day she met a young human boy who was trying to steal precious stones from the river, as she grew older her and the boy became closer but, Maleficent had become the protector of the Moors for the neighboring human kingdom wanted to invade the Moors and take it for themselves, but when Maleficent dealt a fatal blow to the human king he announcement saying anyone who brought him the head of treacherous fae would become king. Arthur the human boy now a man Maleficent had met so long ago hearing this announcement traveled to the Moors to ser her, but when Maleficent had fallen asleep Arthur consumed by greed too k out a metal chain but not wanting to kill Maleficent he used the chain to separate her wings from her body and took them to the king as proof of having 'slain' her. Thus when Maleficent awoke to such betrayal her once pure heart became as hard as stone" you finished explaining

"They're all pretty cool huh? Unlike some piddling weasel" Ace finished with a smirk

'you can't be serious' you thought with a deadpan already knowing that this won't end well

(unbeknownst to you quite a few students had stoped to listen to you talk about the great seven, some of which were there to hear you talk about the Queen of Hearts (one of which was even recording), wanting to know more for as far as any of them knew this wasn't information just anybody knew, so how did a magic less nobody like you know? And why when you talked about the Great Seven did you look at their statues with not only fondness but nostalgia and sorrow? (you weren't it's just that talking about their backstories made you remember when you used to watch disney with your family))

[iron-touch]

"But the world’s an ugly place. Buttering up the truth with ideas of fate, like we’re all pulled in by gravity to some predetermined result no matter what we do, doesn’t make it any better."

Read Iron Touch, a JoJo fanpart starring Polnareff’s daughter, Michelle, after Passione’s Stand arrow is stolen.

Official synopsis and the start of Chapter 1 below the cut:

Official synopsis:

May 19th, 2009: the unthinkable has happened—Passione's prized Stand arrow has been stolen. The perpetrators appear to be a group of unidentified Stand users hiding their faces behind masquerade masks. Giorno suspects who one of the thieves may be, and it's the last person Polnareff wanted to get involved.

Or, in which Polnareff’s daughter goes on her own wacky quest and learns some self-love along the way. Hol Horse is there too, though he'd really rather not be.

Chapter 1: Revelations

Giorno had always considered himself to be a fairly competent man.

To most people, competent was an understatement; a blatant example of unwarranted modesty. From the members of Passione who had witnessed his growth as a leader firsthand to the rival gangs across the globe he had crushed underfoot to the kind old ladies he always offered help to, competent didn’t even come close to expressing Giorno’s natural ability to adapt to and overcome any obstacle that stood in his way. Even before having been blessed by the power of Requiem and thrust into the position of mafia boss at the ripe old age of 15, everyone had considered him to be wise beyond his years, complimented by street smarts and a silver tongue. Yes, competent was usually a perfectly acceptable way to describe Giorno Giovanna.

So it only made moments like this, where Giorno felt so completely incompetent, all the more embarrassing.

He still had a hard time believing that such a thing had happened right under his nose. A childish part of him prayed that none of this was real, that it was a nightmare or some kind of twisted joke set up by Mista as vengeance for putting him in a team of four on his last mission. The embarrassment of being so incompetent was already bad enough, but the potential ramifications for this one error were far more daunting.

Someone had stolen the arrow.

An uncomfortable, almost itchy feeling coursed through Giorno's body at the thought, like a snake slithering up his back and threatening to bite his neck. He fluffed the pillow behind him, swatting at it. This was wrong. It was all wrong. The room inside Coco Jumbo was supposed to be a place of cozy isolation, a place where he could relax and decompress between missions, not a place for him to have a borderline panic attack in. He hadn't felt this way since he was a child, hiding under his bead from his stepfather's screeching threats and leather belt. Although, no amount of privacy could spare him from the shame he felt. Nor should it, the arrow was Giorno's responsibility after all. It was his duty to get it back.

Besides, he wasn't completely alone.

Whilst Giorno sat on the couch fluffing pillows, Polnareff paced around the room's exterior. The cheap prosthetic legs that adorned his stumps never failed to catch Giorno's eye. It just looked strange for him to be walking around on them, like they ought to give out under the weight of the rest of his body. In lieu of the usual cheeky "my eyes are up here" response Giorno usually got for staring, he only got the faint sound of his footsteps clanging against the floor. Slight as it may be, the metallic sound of each step made Giorno's stomach turn. If only I got there sooner, he thought, if only I had gotten to the colosseum before Diavolo that night, I might've been able to restore your legs. If only I had got there sooner, you might still be alive and not chained to this room.

Even through his unkempt hair, wrinkled suit, and heavy bags that weighed his eyelids down, Giorno admitted that Polnareff undoubtedly looked worse than he did. All of his frustration was laid bare on his face; his brows arched upwards, eyes unfocused yet brimming with inner conflict as he surveyed the room, the occasional vexed sigh escaping his lips. Considering everything that Polnareff did in order to keep the arrow away from those who would misuse it, his reaction was justified. Additionally, when considering other recent revelations, Giorno figured that he would be just as distressed as Polnareff were he in his prosthetics. Tired of pacing around the same four corners, the Frenchman flumped into one of the armchairs and laid his head in his hands.

"Would you like to go over everything again?" Giorno asked mostly because the useless silence between them tired him. "Now that we've had the chance to sleep on it, we may discover something we had overlooked before."

After taking a deep breath to steel himself, Polnareff lowered his arms but did not look up to meet Giorno's gaze. "That sounds like a good idea," he responded.

Nodding in approval, Giorno began to sort through the mess of documents laying on the coffee table. The regretful, lingering stare Polnareff kept on two of the papers that had been brushed to the side did not go unnoticed as Giorno attempted to line up all of the relevant files in front of them.

“So,” Giorno began, “Tuesday, May 19th, 2009.” He shook away the self-reproach clawing through his thoughts. It had already been three days. “At 3:47 AM, a suspicious man was seen loitering outside of our base of operation. Tall, pale skin, mint green hair. Armed with a Desert Eagle.” In one of the images taken from the security footage, the man sneered at the camera, cigarette clenched between his pearly whites. Giorno couldn’t help but scowl his cheekiness. “He stayed outside the building, standing at the corner of the sidewalk by himself for eight minutes. At 3:55, two other individuals joined him, both wearing dark blue masquerade masks and hooded robes. Both are shorter than the other man, but given how tall he is, that doesn’t narrow anything down.”

He slumped back into the sofa. “It bothers me that only two of them made an attempt to disguise themselves,” he commented, “The fact that he got there first seems to suggest that he’s either their leader or a decoy. Given what ended up happening, I’d say it’s the latter, but,” Giorno glared at the knowing look that the man had flashed at the camera, “I have my doubts.”

He looked up at Polnareff, waiting for his consigliere to give his thoughts. About six seconds of silence passed before Giorno cleared his throat to summon Polnareff’s attention away from the stray documents. It took another moment or so after that for him to register that Giorno expected his input, after which he sat up a bit straighter and finally let his eyes scan over the other papers.

“He could’ve just been full of himself,” Polnareff added, his stare wandering back to those same two papers, “not every man is as committed to keeping themselves hidden as Diavolo was.”

“But you would think that he would at least be someone we knew if that were the case,” Giorno rebutted, “like someone from a rival gang or someone with the government. If he was someone new who wanted to make himself known, he did a laughably poor job.” Giorno grabbed an autopsy report from the table. “We have this man’s corpse but not so much as his name.”

Polnareff sighed. “That is also true,” he said, his voice tired.

“Either way, I had Sheila E use her Stand on the street corner the three of them waited at, as well as the rest of the area to see if they talked about anything. Unfortunately, it seems that they were prepared for that.” Giorno rested his thumb and pointer finger on his chin, deep in thought. “That alone is enough to raise suspicion. And, along with the fact that they knew exactly where the arrow was hidden, then as much as I hate to say it, at least one of the perpetrators could be someone from within Passione.” The very thought of a traitor within their ranks brought about a suffocating tension to the room. Giorno could practically hear Diavolo’s mad laughter ringing in his ears; how ironic that both of them would be undone by one of their underlings.

“We shouldn't forget that we've taken precautions in order to make sure that’s not the case.” At this point, Giorno was all but talking to himself. “It could just be that whoever we’re dealing with is very cautious. Even within Passione, most of our members don’t know the Stands of those outside their own teams. Sheila and her teammates are my bodyguards, if I can trust anyone, it’s them.” He hoped so at least, especially given that Giorno had left Mista in charge of affairs in his absence. “Their alibis are also—”

A sudden bump in the road caused the room to jolt. The papers on the table scattered on impact, turning the organized mess into a more standard one. Shaken from his trance, Polnareff nearly jumped out of his own ethereal skin from the unexpected force. Giorno sighed and began to reorganize the papers. After taking a moment to gather his bearings, Polnareff assisted him.

"Giorno," he said, putting some papers back in their folder for known suspects, "I understand we're traveling incognito, but we really should consider taking more comfortable means of transport in the future."

Giorno laid the timeline out once again and grabbed the basket of fruit that sat on the end table. "This was the best I could get for us under such short notice." He began to lay out the fruit on top of the papers, giving them extra weight to pin them in place. "I don't need to tell you that traveling via plane in these types of situations is a bad idea."

Polnareff observed Giorno take the two papers that called for his gaze and place them in his coat pocket.

Before he could interject, Giorno continued speaking. "Now then," he said, brushing some stray curls behind his ear, "at 4 AM sharp, our building lost power. Our security cameras, smoke detectors, laser grids…all of it shut down. We were the only building in the area to experience a power outage. Sometime soon after, the thieves blew a hole through the side of the building, about two meters tall and two meters wide, and broke in. Shards of glass were found near the scene even though all of our windows remained intact through the ordeal."

Giorno returned his attention back to the timeline. "From this point on the details are a little fuzzy, but we do know a few things for certain." He removed the apple weighing down the stack of autopsy reports, simultaneously taking the papers and a bite from the apple. "Eleven of the twelve guards on duty were killed via electrocution. The only guard who survived, his name was Mente Vettore, shot the green haired man four times in the head, just outside the hidden room where we keep the arrow. He died on the spot and never even removed his gun from his holster."

He took another bite of the apple. "Vettore fired two more shots, hitting the wall and a chair, but he didn't seem to hit the other two assailants. He would've had four more shots left, but there’s no evidence to suggest he fired any more bullets. Around the same time, another hole was blown in the wall, revealing our hidden vault. Just like with the other hole, shards of broken glass were found by the impact. The vault we kept the arrow stored in was also destroyed. At 4:15, the power came back on, and the two masked assailants were already long gone. Vettore has also gone missing. We arrived at the scene ten minutes later."

Giorno picked up the profiles of the two masked assailants they had drafted up. "From what I can tell, the power outage must've been caused by a Stand. That same Stand is probably what electrocuted the guards. My guess is that it's a Stand with the ability to steal electricity, store it, then channel it somehow. I don't think it's what blew holes in the walls though. I think a different Stand did that, and it's likely linked to the broken glass in some way." He placed the profiles down and retrieved an autopsy report. "Interestingly enough, the man with green hair doesn't seem to be a Stand user. We couldn't gleam anything else of note from his autopsy. His fingerprints have been sanded off, his blood and face don't match up with any on record, we couldn't even discern where his clothes are from."

Trading the autopsy report for a mission log, he choked down yet another bite of the apple. “I had Murolo send All Along Watchtower out for reconnaissance. He spotted the arrow yesterday just outside of Orléans, carried by another masked individual. We don't know if they're one of the thieves or someone else. They were headed north towards Paris, which is where we’re on our way to now.”

Taking a final bite of his apple, Giorno looked up to his consigliere. "So," he said, "do you have anything to add, Polnareff?"

He took a moment to examine the mess of papers, reorienting himself so he faced them head on as he ran a hand through his column of silver hair. Polnareff still seemed unfocused, perhaps even more so than before, though Giorno noticed that he made an obvious effort to hide it.

"We should've kept the arrow in the turtle," Polnareff quipped.

Giorno shook his head. "It would've been a bad idea to keep it here. It was starting to affect the turtle. We wouldn't have felt those tremors earlier if we had never put the arrow in here. This would've been the perfect hiding place for the arrow, but it's not worth risking sacrificing you over."

Staring at the ceiling, Polnareff groaned with uncertainty. "I guess," he muttered.

For a while, the two of them just stayed like that, with Polnareff's sights fixated upwards and Giorno looking back at him with concern. Only the faint sound of the engine and the occasional cluck of a chicken bleeding into the room from outside accompanied them. Though he normally strived for this quiet, almost contemplative atmosphere, Giorno figured it wouldn’t do to leave off the conversation like this. It was time to address the elephant in the room.

"There's also the subject of your family…"

Polnareff instantly locked eyes with Giorno, ready and alert. Chuckling at his immediate shift in attitude, Giorno pulled the two papers from his coat pocket, reading the names at the top.

MARYLOU POLNAREFF, NÉE DELON (DECEASED)

MICHELLE POLNAREFF (AGE 17, STATUS UNKNOWN)

"I can't believe you hid the fact that you have a wife and daughter for eight years," Giorno commented, shaking his head in disbelief.

(Alright, that’s enough from me. Now go read the rest on AO3)

[wolfiemcwolferson]

5 for your spotify playlist fic pls ❤️

This is one of my favorite KoL songs. The lore is that Caleb wrote this whole thing rather intoxicated and so it was done in one recording initially. There’s this shiny, hopeless quality to the song which led me to…vampires.

Pierre drinks at the same bar.

It doesn’t matter that there’s only the one.

He’s here every Friday night, seated in the corner, nursing a half dozen beers until they kick him out.

It’s a habit he doesn’t particularly enjoy, but one he’ll continue until - well, he doesn’t like to consider just how long he might be doing this.

But, he supposes, this is the madness of a lovesick man. One who has seen all that life has to offer and still chooses this. Still chooses to wait.

Because Pierre had been all over. He’d photographed sunsets over mountains in countries that forced the FBI to detain and question him. He had photographs in magazines and exhibits and coffee table books.

Pierre was well traveled.

- is well traveled.

But somehow he’s always back here at this bar on a Friday night, waiting in the same corner as he was five years ago.

Because that is when Pierre’s life really changed.

When he was sat in the bar of his dying hometown - visiting with his brother, listening to his high school friends tell him about the state diverting the highway around them and how it was going to cost the town millions.

And then Charles had walked in.

Pierre knew who and what he had been immediately - had met a vampire in Portugal of all places, but no one else had known what he was.

Pierre had.

And maybe that’s why Charles picked him.

Maybe it was the fact that when Charles smiled, his eyes crinkled up on the sides and Pierre hadn’t been able to help himself when he lifted his fingertips to his skin.

Maybe it was the photos that Pierre had of sunrises plastered on his tiny apartment walls.

Pierre had taken him home that night, tipsy on well whiskey his brother insisted on buying him and the way Charles muscles underneath his hands had felt like marble.

It doesn’t matter what it was.

Not anymore.

It was beautiful and all encompassing and Charles had sworn to Pierre that he wouldn’t be alone. That Charles would love him until the end of time and beyond.

And Pierre still believes it.

Because Charles didn’t take the photographs when he left.

And to Pierre.

To Pierre that means Charles still trusts him - that he still loves him.

Pierre knows that Charles meant it because he would have taken the photographs with him when he went. He wouldn’t have allowed Pierre to keep those blurry, overexposed photos the two of them had taken with a timer in the desert. Or the ones of Charles in Pierre’s kitchen, making Pierre spinach and egg omelets to keep Pierre’s iron up.

He wouldn’t have allowed Pierre to keep the photographs of the two of them, curled up in the moonlight - Charles looking every bit of the ethereal creature he is.

Pierre waits for him to come back because Charles had made him promises about taking him home to France.

Showing him his home there - ancient and lifeless he had called it.

Pierre waits because Charles had loved him and made him feel alive and he knows - he knows - what they had together transcends everything.

What they HAVE.

Pierre sips his beer and he half listens to some story David tells him until David mentions Pierre’s niece - something about smashing mailboxes out on 239.

And that’s why Pierre misses it.

The door opening.

The door opening and the whole place going into that hushed quiet whisper.

Pierre might miss the door opening, but he feels it in his blood - like his body knew and alerted him immediately to -

“Sorry,” Charles’ voice is soft as he slips into the chair beside Pierre, scooting it closer to his silently, “I got held up at a festival in Italy, but -“

Pierre reaches over and takes his hand and the whole bar goes back to normal volume. Like they’ve accepted Pierre’s forgiveness for Charles leaving him heartbroken here for two years. Or maybe they think the two of them have been seeing each other this whole time - Pierre flying off to see him.

“Cha,” Pierre says. Quiet and low, but it still sounds too loud for this place. “Want to go back to mine?”

Charles eyes shine as he nods and Pierre brings Charles hand up to his chest, splaying his hand over Pierre’s beating heart.

“Let’s go home.”

They have shit to work out, but they have forever to do it.

Here or France or Thailand or Uruguay.

It doesn’t matter to him. Not when Charles repeats it back to him.

“Let’s go home.”

[justamessedupdisneyprincess]

Lost in labyrinth mall! An onward fanfic! This fic focuses on Izzyley, a SI x Canon ship!

Part 3!

Izzy and Barley happily chatted during the drive to the mall. Along the way they had exchanged music, which was a little activity they tend to do during any road trips. Barley may introduce Izzy to a song he likes whilst Izzy would do the same. The elf was quite surprised to learn about Izzy’s preferred genre. He didn’t know exactly what she might like but it certainly wasn’t something so loud and full of energy and melody. Her love of dubstep was quite ironic given how she tends to hate most loud noises around her. She even introduced him to a new type of genre he has come to really like, even purchasing some of those songs for himself! Metalstep. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Izzy enjoyed many of his songs as well, she liked rock and metal as well. But she has a weak spot for a “sick” drop. Which would be the last thing one would expect from her.

“So ummm…I’ve actually been having some weird dreams where I can make music.” Izzy started at some point in the conversation.

Barley laughed a little. “Pretty much anyone can make music if they pour their heart’s fire right into it.”

“Yeah, but I mean like with mind powers. Like I can make my own dubstep out of thin air.” Izzy added.

Barley laughed a bit harder, he can see what she meant by weird then. “Now that would be one heck of a skill! Y’know I would listen to anything you make.”

“Well they actually sounded super good! Which kind of makes me wonder if I could become a DJ or something…but then I try to make music and it’s so much that I don’t have any idea what to do.” Izzy sighs. “I can hear the drops perfectly in my head but I can’t figure out how to make them a reality. It gave me a newfound respect for musicians.” She sounded a bit frustrated. In some cases Izzy had dreams where she wished so hard for it to be real, these types of dreams were one of them. Of course there are ones she is grateful that are not only real but she hopes to never ever have again, such as anxiety dreams about her teeth falling out, those ones always unsettle her.

Barley shrugs a bit. “You might be able to one day with enough practice. Actually ya know what. I know you totally can do that.”

Izzy chuckles a bit. “I dunno, it all seems pretty complex to me. I guess one day I might try and learn more about it.”

Her creativity, that was just one of the many things Barley loves about her. She is talented with quite a few things, such a writing, drawing and even sculpting. But the main thing that made her stand out were her ideas. She had so many of them, so many it can get overwhelming for her at times. She would often describe how she doesn’t get art block or writers block, but rather she gets so many ideas she doesn’t know where to start. She calls her brain a factory for concepts and that it’s both a blessing and a curse. Because of how bizarre and unique her ideas are though, Barley has grown obsessed with hearing any stories she may come up with.

They finally arrived at the mall and managed to find a park as well. Izzy looked on ahead and noticed a large tree just in front of the entrance, but this was no ordinary tree…it was alive! But alive in the sense it was sentient and aware. She saw the movement but this was her first time seeing anything like this! “Barley…Is it just me or is that tree moving?” She says nervously, worried if it may be a sign the ancient mall was haunted. Then she thought…’wait…this place could totally be haunted if it was literally a bizarre labyrinth where hundreds of explorers died in horrific ways!’

Barley nodded her head and couldn’t help but giggle as he saw the unease on her face. “Yep, he sure is!” He says.

Izzy looked over at him with a puzzled expression on her face. “He?”

“Haven’t you ever met a whispering elm tree before?” Barley replied with a little teasing smirk.

The imp’s blue eyes shot wide open. “No, I haven’t met one before! I did see them in movies before though- to be honest I actually thought they were fictional.” Izzy says, clearly amazed.

“Yeah, they are actually pretty rare now. They were rare in the olden days but now…it’s like shiny Pokémon sorta rare.” He says, just to give Izzy a better idea.

The couple began to walk towards the entrance. “I…kinda feel sorry for them though. Do you think they ever get bored or lonely being stuck like that?” Izzy asks, as usual she was the type to overthink things but in this case she did have a good point.

The grin on Barley’s face grew larger, as he had more knowledge to share. “For saplings maybe.”

As he had expected, his inquisitive girlfriend cocked her head to the side like a puzzled dragon pup. “Eh?”

As usual, Barley was happy to enlighten her, after giving her a little teaser for it first though of course. He just lots to see her little reactions! “Old elm trees can pull themselves out of the earth and use their roots to walk around.” Barley stated. “However, they can’t walk too far for too long because of how big and heavy their bodies are. So basically, they prefer to be sitting in the soil but they are not bound to it…or at least most of them are not.” He looked a bit saddened as he said this. He then leaned down to Izzy and whispered into her large pink ear. “Don’t bring it up but…the stupid idiots who decided to modify the place built tiles all around this guy and now he can’t move anywhere at all…he is a bit touchy bout it…rightfully so…but best to keep quiet.”

Izzy’s blank expression changed into an extremely exaggerated look of utter rage. Little wrinkles could be seen around her frown and eyebrows, her scowl was that intense. “Those thoughtless, inconsiderate ****s…!” She says with a growl, she has a very dirty mouth and tends to curse without even releasing it.

It actually took Barley a while to get used to her unique language. “Ok, I think ****s is a bit much. But I pretty much do agree with ya.” He says, smiling as he came to admire her feisty personality. She had a real strong sense of right and wrong and he loved that about her as well.

Although upon arriving it seems like Izzy completely forgot about Barley’s warning to not speak of this topic around the old tree, she was just too worked up! The whispering elm looked over to her in shock as she suddenly asked him a question that came from the heart. “Ummm…excuse me? Are you feeling ok?” She asked, worried for the tree’s mental health.

Barley gulped as he immediately clings onto Izzy, almost protectively. “Haha…pssst…don’t provoke him…” he whispered.

The tree spoke in a loud and booming voice, which caused customers who came and go to stare intensely as they pass. “Well if it isn’t the poor excuse of a knight! Think you can whisper around a whispering elm, can you?” He says, sounding angry.

Barley smiled awkwardly. “Aha…so you remember that do ya?” Izzy looked puzzled as her head flung back and forth between the two.

The talking tree had not only a mouth but eyes and a nose as well! His little face scowled, like an angry bitter old man. “How could I forget the man who broke my favourite branch?!” He says bitterly.

“Aww, c’mon, buddy! That was just an accident!” Barley pleaded.

Izzy looked more and more puzzled but the negative energy was starting to make her anxious. She was desperate for answers but had been cut off by the furious old tree. “Um- what’s-“

“If I tore off an arm of yours will you say it’s an accident?” The tree swayed around, a few leaves fall down to the tiles that were placed over him, locking him in place forever.

“Well that depends. If you tore off my arm with the intent to do so that sure as heck won’t be any accident…but-“

“Don’t play games with me! I’ve had enough of you youngsters! Always treating us elm folk as if we were nothing more than mere objects.” The tree sways more, the creaking wood echos around the parking lot in an unsettling manner.

Poor Izzy’s head kept snapping between the two who seemed to have been arguing. She got more and more anxious as she is still left in the dark. Barley continued to defend himself as best he can. “Hey, I was the one trying to help you, remember?”

The whispering elm scoffs. “Some help you were.”

“What is going on?!” Izzy suddenly shouted out. Every living soul quickly glanced towards her, but she ignored the unwanted attention from strangers who passed by, she was just desperate to figure out what was happening.

That is when the whispering elm finally seemed to acknowledge her. “Well young lady, this man here decided to sit his fat rump on my favourite branch and he broke it right off!”

Barley frowns a bit. “I told you it was an accident! Besides…it’ll grow back.”

The tree laughed sarcastically. “Grow back you say? That branch has been part of me for over 50 years! Do you really think it will even grow back the same? It will look completely different! Not only that but for it to simply “grow back” would be decades worth of waiting! Might I remind you time feels even slower being stuck in this retched gloomy place forever?! Why, with the lack of sunlight I am surprised I haven’t even died by now from malnourishment.”

As the tree angrily went on a rant Barley grabbed ahold of Izzy and dragged her inside the mall. Izzy looked back at Barley, still confused. “What was that all about?” She asks, she knew there was more to the story than that. Barley may be reckless but she can’t imagine he would climb all over him and break branches without a valid cause for it.

Barley groans a bit, seemingly embarrassed. “It…wasn’t my finest moment. I was trying to dig out the tiles and help him escape but…the mall cop got to me and I tried to climb away from him and uh…you can probably imagine the rest….argh! I should have done it by nightfall!”

Izzy angrily glared back at the direction where the tree is. “You were just trying to help…Hey, when a whispering elm’s branch breaks off does it hurt them?”

Barley looked quite surprised to hear her ask more questions so soon. It was not like her to move on so quickly. “Erm…well it doesn’t not hurt, but it sure as heck isn’t like getting an arm torn off. From what I have studied it’s more like a small sting, like a paper cut if you will.” Barley says, he smiled a little at the little joke he made towards the end. After all, paper is made from trees.

“Did he need that branch as an arm to grab things?” Izzy asked next.

Barley thought for a moment. Whispering elms can use their branches to swat at things but they could hardly be used as extra limbs to assist them. “Eh…not really. I mean he can move it for a bit but he can’t actually use it for much of anything other than swatting enemies away in Quests of Yore.” Barley stated casually.

Izzy suddenly turned around and stomped her way back towards the grumpy tree. Barley quickly realised why she asked such questions, to try and figure out if he had any right to be angry or upset. She was already furious to see the way he spoke to her boyfriend, but she needed more answers to try and see his point of view. As she had suspected, the tree was just vain about the branch’s appearance, nothing more, nothing less. “Oh no…Izzy! C’mon, just leave it alone!”

[talescfshadows]

@broknfeed plotted starter

The smell of iron filled his nostrils overwhelming all his other senses except for the metallic taste of the warm blood now gushing down his throat. Not even the woman's screams, that had quickly been snuffed out, or her pushing against his chest as she fought to remove him had registered. All he could focus on was the raw burning hunger that had consumed him the moment he'd caught her scent, how it had felt like a white hot poker being stabbed into his throat. Unfortunately, he was all too aware on how that felt, only this time it was more metaphorical than literal, but even despite that, it had caused him pain and discomfort.

He had been living in a state of near starvation for over a century, his captors (his torturers) only providing him with enough to keep him semi-conscious and alive. It had gotten to a point where he'd forgotten what it was like to feel hunger, and it brought back the memories of those first few years when he had begged, pleaded and fought for anything to make that pang in his stomach go away. The disgust he had felt towards himself for what he'd needed had only been trumped by his anger at his captors, but it had been a very delicate scale, neither one fully balancing out the other. But now that he could remember what feeling hungry was like, he was struggling to control himself.

He had never fully reconciled with himself with what he had become; for the monster he had been turned into, and now as he felt the woman's body go limp in his arms, that same sense of self loathing hit him. This was not who he was, or rather, this wasn't who he wanted to be. Before that fateful night when he'd been thrown from his horse and had landed in a way that should have killed him, only to regain consciousness and feel himself being pulled in the direction of human blood like a siren's call, he had been a mild mannered person. A member of the gentry; he had been raised in etiquette and decorum. Violence just hadn't been in his nature.

That too had been stolen from him when he'd been turned. Perhaps it wouldn't have been like that had he kept his freedom, he might have been able to prevent himself from becoming the very violent creature he'd been treated as. But alas, no amount of 'what ifs' could change the trajectory his life was now on. His captors had succeeded, he was a monster, he only had to look at the woman lying dead at his feet to know that.

[moonfurthetemmie]

Since I saw the anon ask about Ink in the maze, I kinda wonder how everyone from Dreamswap Prime (original Dreamswap) would handle the maze. What’re their odds?

Oh like, 2018 Dreamswap? Or am I just misreading a bit

well I’ll answer for 2018 and current (non-fatal flaws) DreamSwap

Dream has magic suppressors on because he could fly over the maze and escape otherwise. The Horror Squad won’t answer where they got it from. That would go for more recent DreamSwap Dream as well, though. Ironically I think he’s changed the least.

Blue is trying to be manipulative and suave to get out, but they’re not listening to him and he’s too terrified anyways. Why are they chasing him and trying to kill him what the FUCK

(Frankly he’s lucky they didn’t kill him on the spot.)

Modern Blue wouldn’t be much better, though. Less manipulation and more begging for his life, but still scared out of his mind and rather queasy.

Old Ink has the same capabilities as Current Ink, but Old Ink had a habit of trying to piss people off, and that might work against him.

Old Nightmare had i think had some kind of plot armor. I say this based solely on vibes. Current Nightmare probably has some too, ofc; he’s the goddamn Protagonist. Old Nightmare tho seems to be able to get out of any bad situation he’s placed in (excluding fanfic, because we like to see him suffer for some reason, and WCS), so I’m sure he’ll find a way out. Current Nightmare is more reckless in certain ways, so he has both the advantage of unpredictability, and the disadvantage of being more of a fool. Still, he’s not a complete idiot, and he’s no stranger to running for his life.

Old Cross and Current Cross feel different only in that Old Cross as a dude is a twink and Current Cross as a girl is huge and stronk. Old Cross may have been angsty-er, but that’s about all I can remember. Their reactions to being in the maze will probably be to scream and yell at their pursuers for the entire first day, and any time they see them afterwards. And lots of running and jumping at the slightest of sounds. Old Cross may be jumpier.

Old Error. Honestly. I’m not sure if Old Error was more or less of a bean than Current Error. Because everyone thinks DS Error is an UwU Bean. Probably because Kai said Error was the most bean-like, though they themselves said that didn’t mean much. Regardless, Error has always been the most capable of the Squad. Old Error might freak out more initially, because the Old Squad as a whole was angstier, but..

Whether or not Dream makes it out will somewhat depend on what he’s doing there, and if the Horror Squad wants Nightmare to die. Unless they want to mess with Nightmare, specifically, later on, they won’t care if he dies or not. If Dream fucked with them, the exit is probably closed off, and he’s unlikely to escape alive unless someone can find him.

It’s also very unlikely they’ll bring him there unless they plan on killing him. And if they actively wanted him dead, they’d probably go after Nightmare. Way easier than breaking into JR and kidnapping the goddam CEO. But if he REALLY fucked with them, maybe seriously hurt one of them, they’re probably going to want to see him suffer some before killing him.

Either way, it’s highly unlikely Dream will get dragged into the maze.

Blue will not make it out. The exit is probably closed for him, anyways. Old Blue or Current Blue, he’ll never be able to convince them, especially at this stage, that he’s better than Hunter.

It’s unlikely he’ll end up in there either. They may not think he’s better than Hunter, but he’s yet to seriously fuck with them, so unless they’re just feeling particularly sadistic, they’ll probably just kill him on the spot.

Ink will probably survive. Old Ink may not, if he pisses the Horror Squad off too much. There’s no reason they can’t close the exit in the middle of the game, and if Ink fucks around too much..

Due mostly to Ink’s abilities, it’ll be hard for the Squad to kidnap them at all. Gouge managed once, though, so maybe they can do it. They don’t dislike Gouge enough to make her or her alternate run a futile maze, and Ink probably won’t be able to do much to really piss them off anyways. Key word: probably.

Overall, the Meme Squad is most likely to escape. It helps that the Horror Squad is probably very entertained by fucking with their alternates, but they’re also used to running for their lives and trying to hide from pursuers. Frankly, if they were easily caught in the maze, the Horror Squad would be very disappointed.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Orange Blossom AU: Rough Draft

 In all the world, there were three people Reborn disliked immensely. 

 The Man in the Iron Hat sat on top of the heap, Reborn’s hatred of the man deep in his bones. It wasn’t something he cared people knew either- the man deserved his hate.

 The second person would be Luce. No matter what the story was with her, the truth remained that she ruined them. Took the barest hints of Harmony she offered them and used it against them. That sort of deep betrayal rang in your soul. Reborn carried it and despised her deeply. Not that the moron noticed until she tried to pull on his Flames to keep herself alive a bit longer. He’d smiled as she died, watching her as she realized no help was coming. He and the others partied for weeks after that. Even Aria joined them, her own issues with her mother heavy on her like a cloak.

 The third would be Imetisu Sawada. The man was a narcissist who cared little but for his own wants. Reborn could let that go; he dealt with narcissists all the time. However, Imetisu? The man simply could not rest until he held himself above everyone else. He demanded that everyone act like he was all powerful and the best. He constantly pressed upon all Flame Actives around him, trying to make them bend. The sheer stupidity of the man on top of it? Unbearable. 

 Reborn could acknowledge his own ego. He could acknowledge he wasn’t the nicest person. He could acknowledge his faults even if he didn’t like to. Iemitsu? The man had little redeeming qualities. Frankly Reborn would think him to be Lightning with his fixation on himself if the idiot didn’t flare his Flames all the damn time.

 That being said, Reborn still thought Imetisu would be competent enough to be able to know where his son was living but apparently not.

 Reborn has been hired to train the Vongola Decimo, the apparently civilian heir which he didn’t believe. Tossing a civilian into the chaos of the mafia without warning? That was just Stupid with a capital S. He refused to believe it because it meant that Timeteo was overlooking half of the people he was related to. He might have been an only child, but he had second cousins in the mafia. He didn’t just need to focus on his own line and Iemitsu. Unless there were other reasons related to it but contract reasons could be easily reworked. 

  Reborn had been hired because of the success with Dino. Reborn was fairly proud of that though he felt a little bad (not that he’d never admit it) that Dino had tried to Harmonize with him but got hurt. It was partly Dino’s fault. Dino was well aware that Harmony would happen sooner rather than later and after two years if they hadn’t bonded they wouldn’t. He knew there were risks to a failed bond. Yet, the rest of the blame laid on Reborn. He’d never thought of telling him that a weaker Sky couldn’t bond with a stronger element. And that trying could damage their flames for life. So, Dino tried to bond, and catasorphe occurred. 

 Dino could never bond with anyone ever again. He had Romanio, his Rain. He had a Mist, and a Storm. But he could never Harmonize with anyone ever again. A death sentence for an Active Sky. Elements would preach about how lonely it was to have no Sky, but few knew how badly it affected the other end. Insanity was the kindest way of leaving it. Dino, being from a family who did not use Flames all that often, would have until he was fifty-five before the side effects became inescapable. 

 A to young age for such a brilliant man. Reborn swore he would do better with Tsunayoshi, tell the boy exactly what would happen to him if he tried.

 If he could find the boy. Intel placed him living with his mother still in Namimori, but upon arriving Reborn learned from Sawada Nana, an incredibly airheaded woman that her darling son left for Kyoto when he turned sixteen. A brief records check showed he’d been emancipated from the woman. A shock but after an hour of spending time with her, Reborn understood. The woman truly wasn’t all there.

 Reborn looked into the records then, tossing aside the stupidity of the file given to him earlier. Yes, Sawada Tsunayoshi did move to Kyoto but returned to Namimori at age twenty. The files said he lived in a small apartment in the shadier part of town. But there was little else in there, leading to Reborn stalking in the dark, looking for the man. Instead, turning the corner on one street lead him to finding three good looking women, dressed in revealing clothes. They spotted Reborn, trading startled looks. Ah. Prostitutes who knew of him. Meaning they had ties to the mafia, which meant information he could use.

 “Ciassou.” He said, smiling. 

 “What’s an Acrobaleno doing here?” Asked one of them, a pretty woman who seemed to draw the gaze of people around her with her big doe eyes. She wore her short hair in a messy pixie cut, the tattoo of some sort of generic flower coloured orange obvious on her clevage. 

 “I’m looking for someone. I’ve been hired to tutor someone, and so far the information I was provided is…” Reborn did not scowl. He was better than that.

 “Who you looking for?” Asked one of the other two. A pretty redhead- dyed from the looks of it. 

 “Sawada Tsunayoshi.” That makes all three of them stop and trade more looks. Perhaps Sawada was not as divorced from the mafia as his father claimed.

Doe eyed stared at him for a long moment before she spoke again. “Got a hundred thousand yen? Infos a long story and I make about that much a night.”

 “Is five hundred thousand better?” Reborn asked. The woman jerked in surprise. Reborn was well aware of how hard it is for working women. His own mother had been one, not that anyone knew that. Nothing connected him to his past and that was how he liked it. He wouldn’t deprive the girl of money and she was willing to help out.

 “That’ll be… yeah. There’s a restaurant around here- guy keeps his mouth shut.” She jerked her head and Reborn followed her. After handing the other two women some cash to. He wouldn’t be rude after all, and having ears on the ground would be nice. “Rose and Diamond aren’t easily bought. You gotta give them more than cash.” 

 “Thank you.” Reborn said, accepting the knowledge as she led him to the restruant. A sushi place, still being manned, though the man behind the counter was a sullen young man who had one arm. He did light up when the two entered the resturant.

 “Blossom!” the man said with a laugh. The woman, Blossom apparently, laughed.

 “Takeshi. Is the backroom available?”

 “Always for you.” said the man, reaching out to claspe her hand. Something seemed to pass between them, the man looking pained and Blossom looking at him with sadness. Reborn kept his mouth shut, not wanting to intrude. “You coming tomorrow?”

 “It’s Toshiko’s birthday.” said the woman with a laugh, leading Reborn to the back. It was obviously for shady business, the smell of blood was thick. Blossom didn’t really react as she went and sat down at the low table in the middle of the room. Reborn followed, with a purple haired girl with an eyepatch coming in a second after. She stopped for a second but shook her head.

 “Are you ordering anything?” she asked in a soft voice. Blossom smiled at her.

 “Just my usual and some tea Chrome.” Reborn ordered his favourties and some coffee and then settled in. Blossom studied him for a few minutes before she quirked her mouth. 

 “Buisness or food first? Takeshi will get it ready for us fast. He’s good at cooking. Nearly as good as his dad had been.”

  “First, some back story. Sawada Nana is a discorded Lightning with a Mist secondary.”

 “... fuck.” Reborn said, covering his face. The words deserved it. Discorded elements were bad enough but a discorded Lightning? That was asking for trouble, with the Lightning latching onto something with laser focus and never letting go. Add in a Mist secondary and reality could and would bend. 

 “Mhm. Luckily her focus was to be a proper Japanese housewife. With the perfect family. So that was fine. Issue was though that her kid got sealed at age five and as such was too unfocused and to out of Harmony to be able to be a good student.”

 “... please tell me you’re lying.” Reborn asked. Blossom only gave him a pitying look. 

Shit. He would have to double check but if what she said was true… damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

 If this was true he had a lot to teach the kid. And he no longer thought that Timeteo had been lying. This was… ugh.

 “Nana became discorded when she failed to bond with Sawada Imeitsu.” The woman continued. “They were unaware. She was obsessed with being his perfect wife that they had a boy name picked out for their child and were going to raise a boy. Coupled with Nana’s Mist abilities- pushing and pulling at reality- the nurses told them they had one.” That was oddly phrased. Reborn frowned and looked at her closer. He froze as he fully took in her face. “However they had a girl child. Nana attempting to force her views on her daughter only lasted until the girl finished middle school and was able to leave the house to work. She wore skirts for that and even while sealed her Will was powerful enough to knock back some of the effects of her mother’s Mist. So people saw her as a girl and came to the conclusion Nana wasn’t right in the head when she kept saying boy and when they realized Nana had forced her daughter into dressing like a boy. The damage was done though.” She propped her chin on her hand. 

 “She left her hometown when she was eighteen after petitioning the government and took off for Kyoto where she realized she didn’t have any real skills to work. She did find work though. As a prostitute where she took up the name Orange Blossom and would later break her seal and learn about the mafia.” Sawada Tsunayoshi leaned forward. “Now, tell me everything about why you’re looking for me.”

 Fuck Imeitsu.

[lightofthemoonglow]

chapter six - with the dark, tenderness.

Summary: : Things start to heat up, but with that, comes things that are annoying. For now.

This is the sixth chapter of ‘Howl: The Director’s Cut’, a fic about how the massacre turns a pair of roommates into a pair of feral idiots in an intensely intimate and kinda kinky relationship.

series masterlist

This chapter contains some scalpel play, vague mentions of past racism, mentions of trauma and surgical procedures

i

With one last huff, Herbert collapses on top of Jess, allowing a few moments of what he considered weakness. His body is limp against hers, his face tucked in the crook of her neck. He can smell her, that now familiar scent of sweat and Old Spice. Harsh breaths wash over her skin as he releases the iron grip on her hips, but he stays where he is. One of her hands idly comes up and strokes his hair.

Rather than pull away, Herbert lets her. The two of them rarely have these moments. Or at least they try to. It’s a gamble whether or not the tenderness will be accepted, it’s just how things are. Which is fine, neither of them are looking for anything more. And yet, when it’s accepted, both of them choose to quietly savor it.

After a while, Herbert gets up to clean himself with the wipes in Jess’ dresser and get dressed. His clothes are all over the floor, his tie is nowhere to be seen. The sheets are mussed, half pooling onto the floor. The scent in the room is heady, it stinks of sex, their scents mingling in the air, but especially near her bed. Jess sits up, grabbing a can of air freshener to remove the smell of them. It’s a precaution, just in case they’re at the risk of being found out.

“Alright?” she asks when she sees him standing in the middle of the room, clad in only his trousers. Scratches, gouges, future bruises are littered all over him and she can’t help but feel a faint glimmer of pride. He will have to cover them up and maybe he will be uncomfortable. He won’t be able to sit without thinking about her and he won’t tell a soul. It’s just the way she likes it.

“Of course I am,” Herbert sharply replies as he pulls on his undershirt, looking at her over his shoulder. “Don’t-.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, that is not it,” Jess retorts, sitting up fully and inspecting her own damage. Some finger marks on her hips and faint claw marks on her thighs, but those will fade, the former might not even bruise. “Just wanted to say that if you want me to hold back, I can.” She knows that she can, or else school and work would have even more complications.

“There is no need to treat me like one of your gentlemen callers. I’m not some inept milquetoast that you picked up somewhere. We’re not sweethearts.” He practically spits out the last word and Jess rolls her eyes.

They had discussed the rules, the limits of what they did together. Things were a lot more clear than they would seem on the surface. He knew what she liked. She knew what he liked. They had vaguely discussed fantasies and if the time came to explore his desire to run a blade along her body or hers to tie him up, they would make those into reality.

“Trust me, I know that. You’re barely my friend, much less my boyfriend.”

And yet, when their eyes meet, the two of them are reminded of how they are undoubtedly bonded, had been since that night. The night when they had seen each other at your lowest points, unable to turn to anyone else. They had seen each other battered, bruised, covered in blood, barely able to stand, but somehow making it out of there alive. They had seen each other naked, vulnerable, needing help when they hadn’t before. She had asked him to stay, to get into her bed and he had broken down in her arms, almost as if in return.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Herbert says stiffly, buttoning up his shirt before turning away.

But he still lingers in the doorway, watching Jess get out of bed on shaky legs, quietly looking through her things while pretending to not want to look at him.

ii

The subject of residency applications comes up on a Tuesday. The three roommates are at a cafeteria table with some of their classmates and the subject had gradually shifted to what they all knew to be inevitable. They would have to start sending out applications very soon. Interviews would start in a few months.

“Where are you applying, Danny?” someone asks and the man in question pauses before he answers, trying to figure out a way to answer.

“Here, actually. My advisor says I have a good shot. It’s practically a lock. And maybe to Johns Hopkins and George Washington University, if I’m feeling daring.” Dan flashes that charming smile, trying to play it off as trying not to humble brag. His eyes flick over to Jess’ and she offers a half smile in response, trying to reassure him it was going to be alright. Part of their bargain with the university was guaranteed spots in their residency program. It was one of the best in the entire country. It would be foolish to pass it up.

And yet, Jess had been looking into other options, even before their return. She knew that it would be easy to take the spot she had here. It wasn’t like it would be meaningless. After all, getting into Miskatonic on merit-based scholarships meant something. It wasn’t like this was some second-rate state school in the boondocks. Jess was very proud of having been able to get in, even after everything.

“What about you, Jess? You going to stick with Cain?”

“Maybe. I…” she trails off, not wanting to speak of it out loud. But it was already partially out there and she might as well go for it at this point. “Actually, I might apply to Seattle Grace’s program. My advisor invited me to dinner with the residency program director on Thursday. And if it goes well, I could have a decent shot at getting in.”

At the far end of the table, having been in his own little world until Jess had dropped the bomb, Herbert frowns.

The idea makes his stomach twist, and he just stares at the top of the table, lost in thought. And he tries to put it out of his mind, he really does.

But Jess brings it up while they’re catching up on charts, because despite his best efforts, she can see right through him.

“You’re not pissed that you didn’t get invited, are you?” she asks once they’re alone in the room, just the two of them pouring over files, pens in hand.

“I am not a fan of Seattle’s weather, so no.”

“Then why have you been acting weird? It’s not like it was everyone but you. It’s only me and a few others, I’m not even sure who is going to show up.”

“I have not been acting weird. But I am curious as to why you didn’t tell me about it.”

“Because it’s not a big deal. And I didn’t know I had to run my career aspirations by you.” Jess is on the defensive; she can feel heat prickling at her cheeks, and she grips her pen a little tighter than she needs to. Those are some of the early signs, she knows them well at this point. She’s familiar with having to defend even the smallest things about herself.

Being invited to the dinner had been a big deal, bigger than it had been. Jess just stares at Herbert and she wants to tell him. She wants to crack her chest open and admit how she’s needed to fight tooth and nail for everything that got her here. She’s always needed to be better, because the world would dismiss her otherwise. And even her best hasn’t been good enough sometimes because people would just look at her and dismiss her before she could speak.

Just because she’s been dealing with her for her entire life, that doesn’t mean she has to just take it.

“This is a big opportunity, West,” she finds herself saying. “Even though I don’t really want to move to Seattle, I should at least try. I don’t expect you to understand-“

Herbert cuts her off, unable to stop himself. “I understand, Woods. You think that I’m jealous that I wasn’t invited even though I am at the top of the class.”

“Shut up. This isn’t about you. That’s not what I was trying to say.” Jess glares at him and for a moment he’s more terrified of her than he’s ever been of anyone else because he thinks she’s going to say it. That she knows he doesn’t want her to leave.

But instead of getting angry, Jess becomes somber, at least for her. “I was once asked why I was in the library while I was in undergrad. Because girls that look like me apparently aren’t supposed to be doctors. Or in libraries.” She just looks at him and he knows what she means. Because he can read her almost as well as she can read him. “And I know that getting this opportunity is just as much luck as it is earned. So spare me whatever you have to say. Just…don’t say anything if you’re going to be petty.”

She refuses to back down from this. If need be, this is the hill she will die on. And if he brings it back up again, she will disembowel him with her bare hands. She probably could and he knows it.

“I am sure you will do fine. You’re leagues above most of our peers. Did you think I would have fixed the hands of someone who didn’t deserve it?”

The words just tumble out of his mouth, and she stares at him as if he’s grown an extra head. A part of him wants the words to work, to make her reconsider the idea of leaving. He would take dealing with her vulnerability over his own. It's somewhat more terrifying but he would rather handle it than face what a part of him wants him to stare directly into the eyes of.

But instead, there’s just a quiet ‘thank you’ and later that night, her hands linger when she’s passing him the dishes to dry as they stand over the kitchen sink together.

iii

After the dinner, some of the other students had gathered with their peers that had not been invited and had headed to the bar. And like she had many times before; Jess went home instead. It had been a long night of awkward smiling, conversation and just so much trying that it had made her head hurt. She couldn’t do another several hours of masking, it was too much. At least the dinner had gone well and that was a good thing. Even though she didn’t want to move to Seattle. It was about being the best, it was about winning.

Oddly enough, the only person who would understand her was sitting in the kitchen when she got home, sipping tea. The bag is still in the mug. It’s one of her mugs, a random souvenir she had picked up on a trip to New Orleans a few years ago. His grip on the handle tightens as his eyes fall on her. Jess is still in her dinner clothes, which she had dug out of a box shoved in the very back of her closet. A black skirt and blazer with a white blouse, high stockings and low heels. The sort of clothes she saved for those crucial occasions. She’s even wearing makeup to try and cover up the scars, her hair in a tight braid and her lips are painted red.

“It went well. I could actually get in.”

The words hang in the air. Herbert just stares at Jess as she turns around and heads upstairs. The impulse seizes him, and he follows her, unable to stop himself.

When he finds her, Jess is seated on the edge of the tub, about to take off one of her shoes, the other is on the floor already. The sight of Herbert makes her stop and stare at him, an eyebrow slightly cocked

Won’t you come in?

And he does.

This is far from the first time Herbert has undressed her. Removing Jess' clothing is an act almost as familiar as removing his own, but it’s different this time. He’s used to fumbling with the buttons of her pants before he pulls them down her thighs. They’re always loose fitting, she hates anything tight around her thighs. The skirt she’s wearing has a zipper, but it hugs her body, so he needs to tug it off her. In his frenzy to get her stockings off, he tears one, but neither of them notices.

A hand closes around her left calf, he can feel the muscle, the fat, and a part of him wistfully thinks he can feel the bone. Herbert’s lips find themselves brushing against her skin, right below the knee. They stay there for a few moments, his eyes flicking upwards to meet Jess’. Her gaze is dark, her lips are parted. Herbert finds himself unsettled by the near perfect smoothness of her face, the makeup hiding the scars almost entirely. She shifts her head, and the movement reveals the texture of the scars that are still raised, bringing an odd sense of relief that he does not want to analyze.

Steady fingers undo every button of her blouse and Herbert even pushes it off her shoulders. Jess removes her bra herself, going to the medicine cabinet as Herbert undresses.

She’s wiping off the makeup with a baby wipe as Herbert undresses when she finally speaks. “I have been thinking about what we discussed last week. And I would like to carry that out after we shower.” Showering together was a ritual for them at this point, even months after both of them had recovered. Now that they were back in the States, it was rare. The two of them had no real excuse to be in there together and Dan was usually around, two things that made it impossible. But right now, it doesn’t matter that Herbert showered when he got home from class or that Dan could come home at any minute.

Right now, what matters is that the water is perfectly warm and that she’s right in front of him, wet and pressing her chest against his. That his fingers are massaging conditioner into her scalp, that she’s running a bar of soap over his chest.

Herbert doesn’t know how to feel about the satisfaction that comes with the thought of Jess being with him instead of anywhere else she could have gone tonight.

–

It had been about letting go. Of finally being free from whatever had been holding her down since that night. Jess is sure that her housemates know about her dreams because when she wakes up from them, she’s screaming, thrashing, gasping for air and trying to fight something that isn’t there. She needs to find some way to have control while letting go, but that would require someone that not only is willing to fulfill her needs, but also someone who just understands what she went through that night. Someone she can trust to hold the net during her freefall.

Enter Herbert, of course. Because who else would it be?

Maybe she should analyze this a little deeper, this need for the man that she should blame for what had happened to her. If he hadn’t decided to play God with Hill’s corpse, that night would have gone differently. Sometimes, she runs her tongue along the scar that cuts through her mouth, feeling that new texture of her lips and imagines it going the way she had wanted. The two of them cutting up the body (it’s easier to think of Hill as the body, it helps her feel better about the whole thing) into pieces small enough to fit into plastic bags. They would have scattered most of him, let him be eaten by animals in several different forests, maybe dissolved the head and hands in lye. There would have been nothing left. Meg would still be alive. They never would have gone to war. All that had been needed for that to be their present was for Herbert to leave the body alone.

But she can’t hate him for it, no matter how much she tries. Hill had been the one who decided to create a little army and they had been why things had ended the way they did.

“Are you alright?” His question breaks through her inner monologue, distracting Jess from deeper thoughts.

“I thought we didn’t ask that question.” Her tone is light, the opposite of the noise in her head that only shuts up when she sees the instrument tray on the nightstand. Herbert keeps his nightstand very neat, usually there’s only his glasses case and an alarm clock that seems pointless because of the hours he keeps.

“I needed to be sure before we began.” Herbert’s voice is as blank as ever, his gaze clinical as he looks down at her. She’s naked, legs spread wide enough that he can settle between them. Her arms are unbound, she’s not ready for that yet. And it’s a fun element to add to their game, her trying to keep her limbs still.

Jess thinks about the purpose of what they’re doing as the blade draws closer. She needs to replace the memories. Out with the bad, in with the new. The blade presses against her flesh and she whimpers, everything in her tensing. “Keep going,” she whispers, her words almost slurring together and she can feel her body relaxing just as he presses the blade on the underside of her breast, mere inches from the scarred flesh.

“You’re doing so well.” The praise is whispered and she feels warmth in her chest despite her desire to not take this personally. Despite herself, she reaches for him, grabbing his free hand just as a voice breaks through their peaceful silence.

“You guys home?” Dan calls out, which makes them recoil from each other. Jess pulls up the blanket and Herbert flees to the other end of the room just before Dan stumbles into the room. “Oh good. You guys are up.” He joins them on the bed, not noticing that something was happening.

“You alright, Dan?” Jess asks, trying to make conversation that would also get him the hell out of the room as fast as possible.

“Yeah, just thinking about stuff.” Dan ambles over and sits on the end of the bed. “Come sit with us, champ.” That statement is directed at Herbert, who is still standing right next to the bed, frozen. “There’s some stuff we gotta talk about.” Dan smells like booze, which explains why it is suddenly time for a family chat. And why he doesn’t seem to notice his roommates are up to something. Herbert makes a face and walks over, sitting as far from Jess as possible.

“What kind of stuff?” Herbert looks like he wants to murder someone, and Dan is oblivious.

“Just stuff. You guys…” Dan’s words make both of them freeze and stare at each other, certain that he’s figured it out. “I worry about you two. It’s not good that you’re always here, all alone. Both of you should be out there, meeting people. Making connections.”

“I doubt that the connections you want us to make are-.” Herbert is cut off by Jess purposefully coughing and kicking him in the back.

“What I think he’s trying to say is that we’re doing okay here. And hey, we’re not alone. We’ve got each other. He’s always home, so it’s not like I’m rattling around this creepy old house all by myself” Not exactly what he means, but Jess just wants him to go. It is not the time for a deep talk about whether or not humans had an innate need for connection.

“That’s not what I mean, old sport,” Dan sighs. Jess furrows her brow at the nickname but chooses to let that one go. “It’s about being lonely, not being alone. I just want you guys to be happy. And it doesn’t even have to be together. Which I kind of thought was going to happen.”

“And why would you think that?” Herbert asks.

Dan looks at him like Herbert is an idiot. “The two of you sleeping in the same bed. Showering together. You’re always looking at each other when the other one isn’t looking.”

Before he can continue pulling out more damning evidence, Jess cuts him off. “Okay, okay. But getting back to your original point, we’re fine. Really.”

“If you say so.” Dan lets out another dramatic huff. He wobbles as he stands and Herbert takes it as a chance to leave, grabbing the taller man’s arm to guide him out of the room, leaving Jess alone in his bed.

They don’t have sex or anything else that night.

iv

The ER is chaotic, as per usual. But there’s something different in the air, there’s an edge to the franticness that Herbert hasn’t noticed before. He’s just clocked out and he’s been looking for the other two, trying to see if either of them can give him a ride home, since Dan had given him a ride to school.

Instead, he finds a group of his peers, and some others clustered near one end of the ER, watching something that he can’t quite see. Curious, Herbert pushes his way to the front of the small crowd and someone sees him, informing him what’s going on mere seconds before he realizes it.

“Your girlfriend is going to drill a Burr hole by herself.” Lambert makes it sound scandalous and Herbert can’t even bother to say anything denying that Jess is anything more than a roommate and valued associate to him.

“Where is the attending? Or a resident?”

“Jessie said they told her to just do it.” A familiar voice rings out from behind him and Herbert looks down to see a mass of red curls. Jess’ friend, Amber, is right behind him and he wonders why she’s even here. This is not her domain, and he sees her enough at the house. As time has passed, the people that had once invaded his former residence in the name of friendship have started to trickle back in. Jess’ little group is smaller than before, but they are every bit as irritating.

Herbert can only watch as Jess prepares the patient, her face a mask of concentration. Her lips move, but he can’t hear her. A curl escapes from her braid, trailing down her back as she moves, reassuring the patient one last time before the drill goes in.

The sound consumes his hearing and she consumes his sight. Herbert is enraptured by the sight of her drilling into the patient’s skull. A mere med student is preforming a procedure that no one else will have the chance to do for over a year. Herbert blocks out the rest of the world, eyes darkening as the procedure is executed flawlessly.

All he can think is how magnificent Jess is. How she moves so fluidly, her hands are steady as she completes the procedure. Herbert’s hands are the ones that are shaking by the end, which is when the resident in charge finally comes into the room and takes over, as if they had done it themselves. Jess’s scrubs are splattered with various fluids, she looks exhausted but triumphant and she’s the most…

Herbert needs to close his lab coat tightly, to hide his mild excitement over the sight.

Meanwhile, Amber just smirks, filing away the reaction for later. Jess has insisted it’s platonic, whatever is going on with the two of them, but Herbert looking like a love struck idiot just now is all the proof she needs to confirm that on his end, it’s far from that.

[iobartach]

@d3adagain asked; "get your nerdy gonk nose out of my business."

Enticed to listen, the issued warning prompts brows to crease, a hint of annoyance surfacing momentarily on olive skinned features before being smothered by a mask of forced calmness. Now wasn't the time to be obstinate, not when a gun was being waved in his face. Any wrong move made could prove disastrous-- zeroed before his time had fallen due, with no contingencies in place.

Well, not yet anyway.

"Try lowering that iron first. Then I'll consider it." Threats had been an infrequent feature in O'Hara's life, an aspect that came part and parcel with the job since the day he went to work for Arasaka. An element of the company training he'd been given had covered how to deal with huscle, further enhanced by more than a few close encounters since then. Fortunately, it wasn't enough to serve as a deterrent, to dissuade him from his current path. The only force capable of stopping him now, short of death, was himself. And that wasn't going to happen. Not when he was so close to a breakthrough.

"I don't know how you managed to get this far undetected..." Finding the occasion to stand, shirted sleeves sweep over the desk between them, a hand picking up his drink whilst the other indicated to a datapad screen, primed to summon security at the tap of a finger press. One of the several luxuries he enjoyed, whilst living in corporate owned accommodations. "But I assure you, unless you comply, you'll have a far worse time trying to escape."

It caused him some concern to think a lone mercenary was able to circumvent his apartment's defences and get to the point of an in-person confrontation without triggering an alarm. But the thought is soon shelved, ready to be appraised at a later time. He'd rather concentrate on staying alive first, than be concerned about failings in protection investments.

"So you might as well tell me this; who hired you?"

[howlingday]

Cinder: Raven Branwen...

Cinder: You are invited to join the Inner Circle of the Grimm Queen, and have your revenge uoon those who have wronged you. Do you accept?

Raven: ...

Raven: Uh...

Raven: No.

Cinder: Excellent- Wait, what? What did you just say?

Raven: No.

Cinder: ...What?

Raven: I don't want to be a part of your Inner Circle.

Cinder: I don't think you understand what I'm offering you.

Raven: Oh, I completely understand. I've decided playing villain in this series costs way more than it earns, which is how I got involved in bitcoin-

Cinder: Wait, then how are you in prison?

Raven: I was about to tell you, bitcoin. Kind of ironic, really-

Cinder: Nonono- Listen! You're going to like this! We're taking revenge against Ozpin.

Raven: (Groans) I'm sure you are.

Cinder: We're going to rule Remnant!

Raven: Yes, yes, have fun with that. But I'd rather be here, alone.

Cinder: ...

Cinder: Then I'm afraid if you refuse to join us, then when we're in charge, you will be-

Raven: Are we really doing this?! I have been to prison! I've ambushed and nearly eaten alive! You, your stupid throw-on cosplay outfit, and weak generic villain threats don't scare me!

Raven: I'm not! Interested! Go! Away!

Cinder: We-

Raven: Oh, you're still talking.

Cinder: -are assembling a team of Remnant's most dangerous foes!

Raven: Really? Like who?

Cinder: Adam Taurus...

Raven: Okay, wait, he actually sounds really cool.

Cinder: Well, we, uh, haven't actually asked him yet, so...

Raven: Oh...

Cinder: You know, he might be booked up, or, uh...

Raven: Sure, booked up.

Cinder: He, uh, lives on, like a secluded island really, really far away.

Raven: You sound intimidated.

Cinder: We also have Doctor, uh, Watts.

Raven: I don't- I don't even know who that is.

Cinder: Hazel Rainart.

Raven: The crybaby. (Facepalms) Brothers...

Cinder: We also invited, uh, Tyrian Callows-

Raven: Tyrian Callows?! Really?! Tyrian Callows?!

Cinder: Well, he's done stuff, like, uh, attacking Qrow and poisoning him.

Raven: Oh, you can get into the villain club so easily nowadays!

Raven: Do you know how hard I had to work back in my day when villainy MEANT something?!

Raven: And Tyrian Callows! Really?! What's your plan for him? Just let him loose in the middle of the city until the Huntsmen catch him two seconds later?!

Cinder: We-

Raven: Look, just stop! Just stop! I've already played this damn game too many times already. We team up, we get fancy new weapons, and outfits, and we get a cool secret lair, but it doesn't. Do us. Any. Damn. Good!

Cinder: We can also give you a redesign.

Raven: I'VE HAD SIX REDESIGNS IN THE LAST THREE YEARS! I DON'T WANT ANOTHER DAMN REDESIGN!

Raven: WHY DO YOU EVEN WANT ME?! NO, SERIOUSLY!

Raven: I'm old as fuck! Every plan has blown up in my face! What do you actually think I'll be able to contribute?! I am MARGINALLY stronger than the average person! I can make portals and that's! It! That is it!

Cinder: ...Okay, so, uh... Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.

Raven: Finally...

Cinder: Salem's not gonna be happy about this.

Raven: FUCKING WHO?!

Cinder: Crap.

[cruelprincae]

continued with @saltzitivo from here

of course she would be trapped . it was rare that josie was successfully trapped in a cage but this time was different . the bars were encased in a protection spell that she couldn't break free from . the more she touched the bars , instead of being able to pull the magic from it, her magic was weakened . a reverse siphoning spell , perfect for the gemini witch . " well this sucks . " having two powerful beings trapped together was a potential recipe for disaster if josie had ever seen one . with a huff she made a small fire in the base of the cage , trying to warm the pair of them from the cold metal that surrounded them . hopeful that the flames may do something but knew that hoping and wishing was just useless . " i blame you for this mess , cardan . "

Of course it's his fault. When has Josie ever taken accountability for her actions ever since she indulged the idea of practising dark magic and died her hair a colour dark enough to match his own, similar to an angst-filled child ? It's no secret that Cardan enjoys a tad of danger; But, unlike his reckless companion, he doesn't engulf himself with it ― certainly not to the point where it got him captured by a group of people ( human, he assumes ) who, from what word has it around the school, torture supernatural creatures and then probably hang their carcasses over an overly expensive stove. He never should have come here. Befalling to the hands of Balekin would have been better; At least then, he would know what to expect.

The Fae narrows the witch a glare through his long lashes, trusting it to convey how this new version of the siphoner is starting to irritate him to the point where he even catches himself longing for the old, spineless yet brilliant and calculating Josie, but it is short-lived for no sooner than a moment later, the cage around then is ignited into flames. Startled, he takes a sharp breath and draws closer to the center, hoping to avoid both the burning tongue of the iron bars and the magical embers that could, potentially, scorch them alive. ❛ Do you wish to bring forth our doom earlier than expected ?! Put that out ! ❜ Cardan hisses before making use of his hands to push to his feet. The motion is unsteady, for the small particles of iron still looming in the ear that he has been inhaling ― now tenfold its prior numbers due to the burning flames ― have made him lightheaded and he can even feel the beginning of a headache, but such doesn't stop the Fae from marching towards the locked, iron gate. Although he stops a good distance away from the flames, he can still feel their lingering touch against his cheeks; but that might as well be the effects of iron.

❛ As charming as your blunt accusations are, I believe we need to work together to escape this rather noisy predicament. ❜ Continues the Prince, and although the sentence is cut short, there is no mistaking its original intention; because trying to prove ourselves smarter than one another is what got us here, to begin with.

[rosavulpes]

“ Be careful with it , you break it ? I break you “ 

Tossing over a few credits on the table as payment , he’d soon move away to a darker corner of the area . Some where he could find a bit of quiet , as ironic as it would be considering he was currently waiting for his scouter to get “ fixed “ inside of a night club . 

An odd place to get technical support for his scouter yes , but here ? No one questioned why the credits he was using had droplets of scarlet on them were they ? Regardless of the planet , money was money . 

He’d initially considered crushing his scouter , or leaving it turned on somewhere on the planet he’d come from as a decoy to lure in the frieza force soldiers that were certainly looking for him now that he’d finally made his break away from Frieza’s rule .  However , he couldn’t deny the fact that having it around was still pretty useful . Being able to scan the ambient power levels of those around him would help him steer clear of anyone that might give him trouble . 

Unfurling the length of his tail from his waistline , letting it sway from side to side as it pleased there was no one around here he needed to worry about for now . In fact , there was most likely no in this Universe he would need to worry about ... probably . 

He’d already killed his former “ teammates “ during their most recent assignment , knowing full well that they’d turn on him the moment he’d decided to break off from them . A shame he couldn’t have salvaged their scouters for spare parts but ... it had felt all too satisfying to pummel them into the broken earth until his gauntlets were stained with their colors . With how many times they’d berated him for being a Saiyan , or mocked his ancestry ? They had it coming and then some . 

The memory of it still bringing a grin to his face as he folded his arms over his chest to keep those stains hidden from view .  

Then again ? Turles would have probably killed them anyway . Loose lips sink ships and odds are they would’ve gone running to Frieza to report his desertion the moment he’d decided to slip away . 

Who was Frieza ? A galactic tyrant with a level of power that was rumored to be higher than what any scouter , a device that was meant to be worn on the ears that could detect , and then quantify levels of power into numbers that could be measured , could detect . He’d been enslaved to the Frieza force for years now , conquering different planets for them in his Universe of origin ever since he was a kid and not one person he’d every come across could say with certainly just how strong Frieza was . Direct defiance against Frieza’s empire was a sure way to die . 

As a rather large plate of food , and jug of water was brought to his table the Saiyan began to help himself heartily . His appetite something fierce since he’d first awoken . 

As Frieza ruled his universe of origin , and had the ability to detect ambient levels of power thanks to use of scouters like the one Turles himself possessed , the only way for him to escape had been to enter a state of near death . Lowering his heart rate , and feigning a state of death while traversing through the stars inside of his ship to make it seem like he was dead . With his level of power brought down to near nothing , any scouter that had picked him up ? Probably just thought he was an asteroid soaring on thanks to the pod like structure of his small ship . 

Now that he was free ? Part of him was tempted to go out and find a planet of his own to conquer , not for Frieza , not for anyone else but himself but ... there was also a part of him that couldn’t help but wonder if he’d traveled far enough away from his Universe or origin that he couldn’t be detected , no matter how high he raised his own power level . To that end , maybe it was time to get some serious training in , a safeguard to ensure that if someone did find him that knew him ? They’d never make it back alive to snitch on him . 

Fangs gleaming as they bit through the bone of the meat he as downing with ease . Maybe there were some fight clubs around here that he could warm himself up with , he could use some more money ... 

“ That’s it , get up ... you want to put on a good show for all these people don’t you ? “ 

Smirking as his bloodied opponent slowly managed to stand , the man had been on his last legs for sometime now , with Turles enjoying the fights he’d gone through thus far . He’d yet to find a proper challenge to satiate his saiyan craving for battle but this still had the makings of warm up , even if it wasn’t a decent one . Stomping his foot over the broken remains of a combat machine whose’ s head he’d ripped off earlier on , he’d flatten the machine completely under his boot . His opponent was the last one left out of this grouping of men and machines .  

Easier to make more money when he’d agreed to matches where it was multiple group against him alone . 

@grislyintentions​

[fireinakage]

Narritive Writing for School

Blood stained her gray shirt, making it a dark red. Looking down at the person that now lay in front of her, her eyes appeared glazed. The atmosphere smelled of iron, and not the ore kind. The one of blood. The pulse of the once alive man, now gone. The floorboards creaked as she walked away from the body. 

Her footprints were outlined on the wooden floor. Every step she took laid a new footprint down. The crimson liquid was spread upon the floor, making it obvious some crime had happened. The neighbors who had heard the dying screech, had now called the police officers and an ambulance to the location. 

The sirens of the cop cars blared as they approached the house that the body lay in. Though, she didn’t rush. She took her time walking to the sink to clean her blood-coated hands from the blood. She didn’t even attempt to hide the finger prints that contaminated the body before her. 

Doors of the cops and ambulances could be heard opening and closing as they got ready to enter the house, prepared for a scene they would have to investigate. She glanced at the door, her eyes dull as she looked upon the door. 

Not only did she not try to escape, she stood where she was. Not bothering to turn the faucet off, not bothering to clean the footsteps that lead to where she stood. She just watched the door, waiting for something to happen.

As the cops broke the door off its hinges, and caused it to fly open, the ashy-blonde remained in her spot. The cops walked right in with flashlights, looking for anything they could find. Immediately missing her figure, they began to search for a body of any signs.

The cops walked into the eerily dark living room with their lights, to find a body of a victim lying on the floor. There was shouting, sounds of conversation from the cops as the one who found the body called the rest.

She still stood in the same spot, looking eerily upon the cops. It was even more strange that the cops hadn’t noticed the lady standing there looking upon them. 

The cops began to look at the body and see if they could do anything to revive it as the nurses rushed into the building. They used ink to test for fingerprints, and though the body was mingled, they tested its fingerprints to identify the body.

The machines made loud, blaring noises as they advanced in their search. Some were trying to figure out what happened to the body that lied there, while others were looking at the footprints and other pieces of evidence scattered around the room.

The sirens of the cars now turned off, but the blue and red lights were seen flashing from the window. Even though she stood there, she wasn’t paid attention to. They acted like she didn’t exist. 

She walked back over to the body, and looked at it. This time, a slight bit of sorrowness was seen in her look. Still, the cops didn’t pay notice to her, nor’ did they tell her she needed to leave the crime scene.

More paramedics rushed into the house, now covering the body with a blanket to show respect towards the deceased. Muttered voices could be heard, but the words were not able to be made out.

The room no longer felt of peace, it felt of stress. And horror, that would haunt anyone who ever entered it for the rest of their lives. She looked over to where one office was, as he was looking at the shoe prints that she made when she walked.

He was measuring the length of the shoes, to figure out the shoe size. The shoe size was that of an 11, which the body also seemed to have the same size. Suspicions began to come out, wondering if it might had been a suicide rather than a murder. 

Not only was it just the shoe size, the knife which the crimson liquid coated, had her finger prints on it. There weren't any other finger prints locatable about it on the knife that they used.

The cops then followed the footprints, leading them to the kitchen where the faucet was still on. The fingerprints on the faucet, too. There were no signs of any breakins, or anyone else being in the house at the time of the death.

The fingerprints had now been tested and searched, and located that they were fingerprints of a 19 year old female, who was in college. There were reports of the women being suicidal in her records, and being in the mental health hospital multiple times.

They cleaned up the mess and left the crime scene, leaving behind the vengeful ghost. She looked at the paper that was once in the hands of the cops, and it showed the name of the girl. Nyx Smith.