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chaotic-orphan · 2 months ago

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Intoxicating Fear (XXV)

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (part II)

Read part one // masterpost // continued from here

I’m not happy with the last part, but I am too tired to edit it so voila,

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Where are we going?” Ambrose grumbled, the cling of glass on stone crunching under their shoes as they walked, Nathan a step in front of Ambrose as it was before. Always leading Ambrose, Ambrose always following. It made him feel a little sick, like nothing had changed between them, like no time had passed in the last five years since Ambrose established himself for himself. How he didn’t answer to anyone anymore.

And yet here he was, following, again.

Because Kit’s life is in danger, the rational voice told him. You’re not following because you want to.

But one look at the swirling silver eyes and Ambrose was magnetised, trapped under Nathan’s spell again. He knew it, Nate knew it. He wasn’t a hero trying to save Kit, he was just Oskar, Nathan’s shadow. Nathan turned his head to smile at Ambrose, exposing his boyish dimples despite being older than Ambrose.

“You’ll see, won’t you? It’s about the journey, Oskar, not the destination.”

Ambrose swallowed, clenching his jaw and forcing himself to stare ahead as Nathan led them through the tight building packed streets that loomed like giants on either side of Fagan’s lot. most of them were abandoned, or closed for business indefinitely. Some sad, stale “Everything must go” signs lingered in some of the windows that weren’t smashed or bordered up.

It tugged a bit at Ambrose’s cold, dead heart. Fagan’s lot was where Max and Ambrose had shopped because it was cheap, extremely cheap. He remembered Lucy’s grocers, and how Max used to drool as he walked by the fresh fruit and vegetables, and long for them when he was unwrapping microwave pizza for the fifth day in a row because their oven was broken and they couldn’t afford to fix it.

“I want watermelon, Oskar,” he whined.

Ambrose smiled at him, hiding the bill from their landlord for noise complaints, something Ambrose would deal with later. “Payday is in four days. We’re almost there,” he said.

That Friday, when Max got his paycheque, Ambrose came home after his commute to see Max standing proudly in the kitchen. He grabbed the edge of a tea towel and yanked it away with a flourish like a magician, revealing the biggest watermelon Ambrose had ever seen. Max grinned widely, flashing his teeth like a beaming toddler.

“I got the big one.”

“I can see that.” Ambrose said with a nod. Max brandished a serrated knife, licking his lips as he leaned close and took a giant sniff of the watermelon.

“Uggghh, smell that Oskar? That’s the smell of money right there.” Ambrose laughed as Max started to cut into it. The sweet, sticky smell pungent in their small apartment, but Max looked so stupidly happy that Ambrose couldn’t help grin himself. “How much do you want?”

“A slice?”

“You can’t have just a slice,” Max bemoaned, the knife sliding through the watermelon wetly. Ambrose walked around the counter and placed his briefcase on the table, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top two buttons.

“Okay, two slices,” he said, watching as the pink flesh of the fruit fell like sheer fillet mignon, the red juice running like blood over Max’s fingers. Max cut two large circles and cut them in half, putting two on Ambrose’s plate and two on his own. “Bon appétit.”

Max moaned into the first bite, slapping his free hand on the table in passion. “Augh! That’s so good! So worth the wait. Fuck me!”

Max sniffed, and Ambrose met his eyes over the watermelon. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Max said too quickly, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. “Some juice just got in my eye.”

Now, as they walked past Lucy’s grocers, the bright yellows and reds of the plastic baskets of fruit were smashed out front, a metal shutter down with graffiti adorning it instead of fresh fruit. Ambrose ignored it as he walked by, lest Nathan notice — because he always noticed — what it meant to him.

“How do you know, Jude?” Ambrose tried instead.

Nathan raised his brows as if he was about to say something dirty, or let out a startled laugh of disbelief. Ambrose swallowed.

“Why? Jealous, Osk?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Nathan plumped out his bottom lip, the rosey pink getting lighter the more he protruded it into a pout. “You can still call me Nate, if you want.”

“I don’t want to call you anything,” Ambrose ground out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to be this close to you.”

The words had only left Ambrose’s lips before Nathan’s hands were on him slamming him into the opposite wall of the narrow street, deft hand wrapped around the base of his throat. Nathan smiled down at Ambrose who didn’t have to fight to keep the blush off his face, remaining the cool, pale statue that Kit so often likened him too in his head.

“How about this close?” Nathan said, his voice the shape of an angel’s wings; soft, light, majestic, but behind it held great power to exact divine retribution on devils, demons and humans who strayed too close.

“This makes it worse,” Ambrose said, happy that his voice remained even, though his index finger twitched at his sides. Mercury swirling eyes regarded him with a twisted mischief, the corners tugging up into smiles themselves.

Nathan looked at Ambrose the same way a lion would a gazelle, but Ambrose wasn’t the same man he was when him and Nathan were together. He wasn’t poor little Oskar anymore, who shared secrets with Nathan in the early hours of the morning, secrets they swore to take the grave, secrets like Ambrose’s parents that Nathan revealed to Max just to fuck with him.

Nathan’s fingers trailed up, pinching Ambrose’s chin between his thumb and index finger and tilting his head a little higher so he could feel Nathan’s warm breath on his lips, the smell of cigarette smoke and ash fanning his face.

“And how about now?” He asked his voice a tempting whisper, half-lidded silver eyes positively feasting at Ambrose’s stoic expression, looking for the tell, the give. Ambrose had buried them years ago. “Come on, Osk, you can’t tell me you don’t feel this. You and me, we’re meant to be together. You know it, I know it. We can be like we were.”

Nathan tilted his own head so their noses wouldn’t touch as he leaned in closer until his lips brushed Ambrose’s when he spoke. “Don’t you miss it? Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss me?”

Ambrose’s heart raced in his chest. When Nathan looked at him like that, Ambrose feared that he could read his mind instead of the other way around. Not that Ambrose could ever read Nathan’s stupid mind with his stupid gift and his enchanting eyes. But there was an eerie stillness to it, an intensity that Ambrose couldn’t deny and never felt with someone else. Despite his many attempts of dating after Nate, there was no comparison to the silver eyed devil and that terrified him.

He could do it, he realised, his pulse throbbing in his neck against his throat. He could lean up and kiss Nathan and they could go back to how they were. Nathan was waiting, waiting for Ambrose to make the move, to accept him again. To submit and return to being Nathan’s favourite thing. Ambrose had no doubt Nathan loved him, in his own twisted way, but it wasn’t about Nathan and his love. It was about Ambrose, and he hated the person he was when he was with Nathan.

The shell he became.

Ambrose leaned on his toes, hand sliding up Nathan’s side to his neck. Cigarette breath hitched against Ambrose’s face and he smirked. He slammed his palm up against Nathan’s chin and shoved him back with an easy strength.

Nathan stumbled back, silver eyes flashing with malice and pain as his hand went to cup his lip.

“Ow! You made me bite my tongue,” he whined.

Ambrose smiled, sliding a hand into his jacket pocket when he saw a flash of red stain Nathan’s white teeth.

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe you shouldn’t invade people’s personal space, then,” Ambrose said coolly, black eyes on Nathan’s.

Nathan huffed out a breath through his nose, straightening, his brows lowering over his eyes casting shadows on his quicksilver gaze, darkening them to the colour of gunmetal. Dangerous, powerful, scathing.

He let out a soft hmph of disapproval. “Maybe you have changed, Osk.”

“Maybe,” Ambrose said without missing a beat. Then they were walking again, Nathan still leading, though now with a wired tension in his shoulders, something stiff that wound and unwound and Ambrose wanted so desperately to peak inside his brain and see what he was feeling. To know what to expect.

Then they turned down a side street off the main path of Fagan’s lot and Ambrose stopped walking despite himself. Nathan stopped too, a few steps ahead of him and glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk in his eyes and a knowing smile on his lips.

“Something wrong?”

Ambrose remembered Max telling him that Benny was having trouble yesterday, that he should check on him before he leaves. Benny who lived in the apartment across from them in Old Town. A fast friend because of his jolly, wholesome exuberance, always making them smile and bringing over beers on Summer nights for them to go to the roof and hang out.

Benny’s tailors was on the street.

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “Where are we going?”

“To see an old friend,” Nathan replied.

“Why?” Ambrose asked, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets.

Nathan let out a breath of a laugh, turning his body towards Ambrose and walked towards him, into his personal space again which forced Ambrose to tilt his head up a little to keep his heavy gaze.

Nathan placed a warm hand on Ambrose’s cheek. On reflex Ambrose’s hand twitched up to smack him away, but Nathan’s words stopped him. “Ah, ah, ah, Oskar. Behave. I still have your hero friend locked away safely with Jude, so you’re going to do as I say.”

“And if I don’t?” Ambrose snapped.

Nathan’s eyes tracked Ambrose’s, observing his steeled expression and annoyance. Nathan ran a thumb over Ambrose’s bottom lip, chilling his blood as he stiffened despite himself.

“I have to check in every ten minutes with Jude or he gets to do whatever he likes to the heroes,” Nathan said.

Ambrose frowned. Heroes? As in more than Kit? Does he know who Kit is?

“See, that’s the Oskar I want. The sweet, pliant thing, the one whose heart raced when I got this close.”

“When did you last check in?” Ambrose demanded.

Nathan hmphed again, silver eyes swirling with glee. “At Max’s, while I waited for you two to kiss and make up.”

“Oh bullshit, you wanted us to fight.”

Nathan’s lips broke into a grin, a flash of teeth. “Okay, yeah. Maybe I did, but the fact remains. That was maybe, what, two-three minutes ago? So do you want to waste time being a brat, or, are you going to come with me and do everything I say to save your friend?”

Ambrose felt a tug in his chest. He wasn’t affected by Nathan anymore. He wasn’t. The only reason he was going through this fucking charade is because of Kit, who a few months ago, meant nothing to him. Why was he doing this? Why was he risking his neck for this kid? His sanity?

Ambrose’s shoulders dropped. Nathan stepped away, eyes gleaming as he turned and walked to the tailors at the end of the street. The shop’s trim was wooden, painted a royal blue, striking from far away, something to catch your eye and it did. Red lettering protruded from the black crown sign above the door, that read: Bespoke Elegance.

Nathan leaned against the wooden detail next to the door, grinning at Ambrose, he inclined his head for Ambrose to go first. Ambrose glared at him but wordlessly obeyed.

For Kit, he told himself. For Max. This would be fine. Everything would be fine.

The bells had only tingled open when a shot rang out and Ambrose’s eyes went wide as a nub of metal stopped so close to his left eye that it watered from the pressure. Behind the bullet at the counter stood Lyra; as lethal as she was pretty. The shell fell to the ground with a clatter and she lowered the pistols, relief washing over her taut features.

“Oskar,” Lyra said, the lilt of her voice musical.

“Well I’ll be fucked,” Lyra said, shifting her weight on her legs but not dropping either pistol from her hands, keeping them trained on Ambrose’s body. “Ghosts still walk the Earth.”

“Maybe I’m an angel, come to rescue you.”

“Or a demon in disguise as one,” Lyra replied easily, tilting her head to the side, exposing her long, lean neck that led into her beautiful collar bones and shoulders.

Lyra Sinclair was the only woman Ambrose would ever consider marrying. She knew she was too good for him, and would probably shoot him if he ever tried to ask. Her hair was in a different style every time he saw her, which regrettably was too little. She was as close to a Goddess that Ambrose had ever come, with olive skin and warm features. Though she had a foul mouth, cursing like a sailor, and still hadn’t lost her posh English accent despite herself.

“What are you doing here, Oskar?” She asked, raising a perfect brow. As if on cue the door behind Ambrose opened, and Lyra trained one pistol one the crack in the door. Her eyes narrowed like cat’s, dangerous, lethal. “Who are you with?”

Ambrose raised his hands, trying to calm her. “Lyra, I can explain.”

“No need, Osk, darling, just tell her to drop the guns.”

Ambrose stiffened, silently hoping that Lyra would just shoot Nathan through the doors, but she trained both pistols back to Ambrose, and now his hands went up in surrender, trying to show her he meant no harm.

“If you open your mouth, Oskar I swear to fuck I will kill you where you stand.”

“Lyra, please,” Ambrose said, risking a step forward. “I don’t want to compel you.”

“Why’re you with him?!” She demanded. “How do you even know each other? Do you know what he is?!”

The worry pulled her features across her face, stretching them wide, exposing the whites of her eyes and wrinkle lines on her forehead.

“Tick, tock, Osk. I’m not texting Jude until I’m inside.”

Ambrose stared pleadingly at Lyra, but her hazel eyes didn’t leave his, her chest rising and falling with a gasp. “You know Jude?” She demanded incredulously, her grip tightening on the weapons. “Are you working with them?”

“No!” Ambrose cried, stepping forward again. “Lyra, please, he has my friend and he’s going to let Jude do whatever the fuck he wants with him if he doesn’t text him in the next five minutes.”

Desperate black eyes met fiery hazel across the shop floor. “Please,” Ambrose said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t get her answer. A toilet flushed somewhere in the back, the sound of rushing water and a door was thrown open behind the red velvet curtain that was pushed outside, metal hooks squeaking and then a wide grin. Ambrose swallowed thickly.

A hulk of a man finely dressed in a chequered navy suit and burgundy silk shirt stepped out from behind the curtain, bending to get through the door before standing to his full height of a giant, taller than Ambrose, hell, taller than Nathan who was 6’4.

The fine suit did its best to hide the muscled torso beneath, but when Benny spread his arms, his stubble lined jaw spread open into a grin.

“Well, well, well, Oskar Fucking Ambrose. You giant cunt. Where’ve you been?”

“C’mere,” Benny gruffed, his footsteps like buckshots in the store. Benny was double the width of Ambrose, and a good head taller which made Ambrose mortally terrified of the man, especially because Benny was simultaneously the biggest, and sweetest, man he had ever met. And a hugger.

Ambrose groaned when he felt his bones crack under Benny’s tight hug, the giant man lifting Ambrose from his feet as if he were a child.

“God. It has been too long, old friend.” Benny said with a hearty laugh and a meaty fisted thump to Ambrose’s back. “We love to see you, brother.”

Benny said, his Ukranian accent choking in the middle of brother, making it sound like broo-der. Benny’s real name was Irakliy, but he told Ambrose when he arrived in the country that your stupid people couldn’t pronounce it, eh? They heard ‘ee’ sound and call me Freddie, I mishear and call me Benny. Name stick in brain like a Kesha song.

“Not today you don’t,” Lyra ground out, a muscle in her jaw ticking.

Benny frowned at her then at Ambrose. Ambrose feared the result of the exchange he was about to have, but he couldn’t not say anything.

Then Nathan chimed in: “three minutes, Oskar.”

Benny’s expression dropped. Ambrose could feel the adrenaline spike in his body as Benny glanced at the door, then at Ambrose, then back at the door. When he looked back at Ambrose again, blue eyes darkened and despite Ambrose’s protests Benny grabbed him by the throat and pile-drove him backwards into one of the viewing mirrors for fittings, the glass cracking against Ambrose’s back.

The wind was stolen from him with a silent gasp, both his hands finding Benny’s and trying to pry his fingers off his throat unsuccessfully. Benny growled in the back of his throat, leaning down so he could get in Ambrose’s slowly blueing face.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck like a twig.”

Benny, he tried in his mind, his brain screaming as pounding headache formed from the pressure in his skull, his brain screaming for oxygen, please. Let me exp—

Ambrose didn’t think, he was panicking as his vision darkened at the edges and without meaning to boomed out a command:

Benny, LET GO!

Benny’s fingers sprung open like a coiled spring being released and Ambrose hit the ground, his cheek hitting off the edge of the fitting platform as Benny cried out.

Ambrose gasped, pushing himself up instinctively and reached to Lyra’s mind, tying the wires in her brain together and unplugging her powers before he fell again.

“Two minutes, Oskar!” Nathan sang and Ambrose groaned. He muttered, don’t move, aloud and waited until both Benny and Lyra went stiff before calling Nathan in.

Nathan stepped through the door, poking his head around first and glancing at Lyra before his face broke out into a smile and he stepped inside fully.

“Morning,” he drawled with a happy sigh as Ambrose managed to prop himself up against the wall. He reached behind his head at the bump that was forming and his fingers came away sticky and wet. Fuck. He blinked, the world dizzy in front of him.

FUCK! He didn’t want to have to do that. Fucking Nathan knew exactly what he was doing making himself known before Ambrose had a chance to explain. Ambrose glared at his stupid, gorgeous ex who pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and held it up, waving it at Ambrose’s face.

“Just in time, babe.” Then he typed away on it, positively eating up the attention in the room. Ambrose tipped his head back, chin to the ceiling up at Benny. His eyes zeroed in on the red and purple bruises on Benny’s swollen hand, and realised sickly that his compulsion did that.

“Benny… your hand…”

“Save it, Amber-ose.” Benny spat. The dip between Benny’s thumb and middle finger had split from the force of Ambrose’s compulsion, steadily dripping blood onto the varnished wooden floor.

“I’m not with him,” Ambrose protested, pushing himself up a little and trying to get to his feet, but the world spun and he fell again, sliding down until his arse hit the ground. “He has… he’s—”

“He said this arsehole has his friend captive,” Lyra said, hazel eyes cutting from Nathan’s face to Ambrose’s. Angry, but believing. She believed him, though he doubted he would be spared a bullet if he let her move. “Said that creep Jude is watching him and if he doesn’t do what he says, he’ll let Jude kill him.”

Benny’s blue eyes turned down, drooping at the sides. “I’m sorry, brother,” Benny said. “You are in as much as the rest of us.”

“Now that we’re all caught up to speed,” Nathan said, clapping his hands together. The sound was like a bullet through Ambrose’s brain. “How about we get down to business?”

“What is your business?” Ambrose demanded, practically spitting his words. All he could think about was Max telling him that Benny was in some trouble, that Max was worried about him. Is Nathan the problem?

Christ, he couldn’t think straight, his brain blurry. Fucking Jude and this hangover and Max’s punches, now Benny’s blows, he was shocked he wasn’t unconscious yet, probably concussed. Maybe, definitely concussed.

Benny frowned, eyes on Ambrose, still frozen. “You don’t know?”

Ambrose frowned, the motion too difficult to convey so he flattened his face, holding his head and stifling a moan. If Ambrose thought of it, he could dip into Benny’s mind and read the message he was storing, roaring, trying to let Ambrose hear, but Ambrose was too focused on staying awake.

“Benny,” Nathan said, his tone dipping low in warning. “Naughty, naughty. Don’t you remember what I can do to you?”

Ambrose shut his eyes tight, planting his hand on the ground and pushing himself up. He had to grip the podium for the fittings and push himself all the way, stumbling back into the mirror when he got to his feet.

Black eyes unfocused, glazed over and swimming with colour, but he tried to focus on Nathan.

“What’re you saying, Nathan? Why are we here?”

Nathan smiled again Ambrose. Its effect was like an avalanche of cold, mountains of snow threatening to bury Ambrose under the weight of it, sending tremors of terror down his spine.

His mind screaming at him to notice something he was missing. To see what was right in front of him. His blood rushed in his ears as he took a step forward, silently releasing Benny in his mind: you can move freely. The effect was too much for Ambrose to bear, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as if someone had just switched off his power.

Benny stood taller, and he turned to Ambrose, catching him before his head smacked off the wood, but it didn’t matter. The darkness swallowed Ambrose, Nathan’s voice speaking in the background as he submitted to unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

Ambrose woke in a car, sprawled out in the backseat. He groaned as the light assaulted his senses. Fuck. His head was pounding, and he let out a soft groan.

“Oh, you’re awake sleepyhead?” Ambrose’s eyes shot open, his heart seizing in his chest. Nathan. He forgot. Why were they in a car? What happened to Benny? “You should try and get back to sleep, Osk. We’ll be there soon.”

“Where?” Ambrose ground out, the words rattling his skull and agitating his head.

Nathan’s swirling eyes met Ambrose’s in the rearview. “To Kit. That’s where you wanted to go, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s where we’re heading.”

“What did you do to Benny?”

Nathan chuckled. It was as if he had shot a bolt of metal through Ambrose’s spinal cord, freezing him as the metal scraped off bone. “You didn’t hear?”

“I was kind of unconscious for it,” Ambrose said tightly. Nathan’s eyes were back on the road, but it didn’t make him feel any less observed. Any less seen. The same nagging thing pulled at his mind like a child trying to get their parents attention.

Nathan chuckled again, this time lighter. “I suppose you were. But he was thinking very loud, Oskar. I’m surprised you didn’t hear.”

“Hear what?” Ambrose asked, pushing himself to sit up in the backseat, the world tilting around him. He felt like he was going to throw up. Nathan met his gaze in the rearview again and only then did Nathan’s words register in his mind. Ambrose must have froze or stiffened or showed his emotion on his face. “What do you mean his thoughts were loud?”

Nathan’s laugh was musical, pulling at Ambrose’s heart strings. “Come on Osk, you’re smarter than this.”

“Well I may have a concussion or two so cut me some slack,” Ambrose snapped. His breathing hitched, becoming erratic suddenly as his brain burst through the bars of the cell in his skull.

Nathan remained stubbornly silent, forcing Ambrose’s memory to try and colour in the gaps. Come on, Oskar, follow the context clues. He was— in Max’s bar he was fixing up Jude’s tab from the night before, the night with Jude, and Max said Jude knew Supervillain, and worked with him. Partners. Nathan’s grin at Ambrose’s mention of Jude, “why? Jealous, Osk?”

Jealous.

Was he jealous?

No. That’s not the important part. Come on!

Not just Kit, the other heroes. Kit was patrolling last night, looking for Supervillain and now Nathan and Jude had him, and…

“Ah,” Nathan said, revelling in Ambrose’s cold realisation. “There you go, Oskar. You got there eventually.”

“You…” Ambrose said, his voice losing breath and the words tapering off. “You… you can’t be Supervillain. You… you don’t even have powers!”

Nathan smirked in reply but didn’t answer. It irked something inside Ambrose, making him lean forward. “Right?! You don’t have powers, except resistance to—”

Ambrose grabbed his pulsing temple, cutting himself off. Nathan only has defensive abilities. He wasn’t powered, he couldn’t be, he had never— Ambrose had never seen. Natural immunity. That’s it. Not, not— how could he hear Benny’s thoughts? Mentor’s Telekinesis? He couldn’t—

“Explain,” Ambrose said, his voice a growl.

Nathan hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What do you want me to explain?”

“How can you— people can’t have more than one power.”

“I don’t,” Nathan said with a shrug.

“Then what?! How! How can you use Mentor’s— you- you’re fucking lying to me!”

Nathan’s gaze doused the simmering rage in Ambrose. “Am I?”

And Ambrose knew he wasn’t.

He knew it, but he didn’t want to know it.

“You… you— you can’t be Supervillain,” Ambrose whispered. Hoping that if he repeated it enough it would make it true. He felt the overwhelming urge to cry and scream and rage and claw Nathan’s eyes out, but he just shook in the backseat, every part of his body trembling as if he was just dunked into an ice bath.

“And yet, I am, sweetheart. God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to tell you, Oskar. But I knew, I knew I had to wait and be patient, and now that we’re together again I will explain everything when we get home.”

“Why did you take Kit?”

“To get to you, dummy,” Nathan replied with a lopsided smile. A smile full of love and Ambrose wanted to get sick. “And I got you, didn’t I? Go back to sleep, love. I’ll wake you when we get home.”

Ambrose didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to do anything, while simultaneously wanting to open the backdoor and jump out, or pull the steering wheel and throw up. He wanted to fight, but sleep was already pulling heavy down on his eyelids, and he curled back up beside the door, and closed his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

The door squeaked open, light crawling along the stairs with a jolt and vanished just as quick as someone started skipping down the stairs. “Oh, Kit~”

Kit straightened as much as he could in the cuffs, stealing his expression to a stoic indifference.

Jude appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his green eyes gleaming with malice and a twisted delight. “I had a little deal with Supervillain. He said, if he didn’t text me every ten minutes then I was allowed to have fun with you! It’s been fifteen minutes, Kit. You know what that means?”

Tides and Sawyer woke at the sound, Sawyer freezing, his arms wound tightly around Tides who was trembling in his hold.

Jude’s eyes lazily flickered to the pair. “Aw, aren’t you two just sweethearts? Tell you what, if you be good I won’t even lock you up again!”

“You said you’re going to hurt Kit,” Sawyer told him. “Why would we just sit tight?”

Jude walked over to him and crouched down in front of the pair, tilting his head to the side as he regarded Sawyer. “I don’t know if they lied to you about how bad your face was, or you just don’t care, but if you don’t want me to force you to return the favour to your girlfriend there, I’d suggest you shut the fuck up and be a good little hostage, hmm?”

“You—”

“Sawyer,” Kit said, his voice hollow, yet still managing to cut through Sawyer’s. “Don’t. Just do what he says. I’ll be… I’ll be fine.”

“Kit—”

“You heard the boy, he’ll be fine!” Jude said with a wave, bouncing to his feet and walking around Kit to uncuff him from the wall. It was going to be nice, Kit realised, not having his hands glued above his head for a while. They fell like they were made of cement once Jude opened the cuffs and Kit groaned as he felt pins and needles thrum beneath the skin.

Pins and needles and something else.

Something… electric. Kit hid it, hoping that Jude couldn’t read minds like Ambrose could but when Jude started to pull Kit to his feet, Kit was almost certain that he couldn’t. Which meant that Kit had the leverage, but he would have to use it quickly if he wanted to keep it.

As Jude dragged Kit over to the chair, Kit felt the well of electricity surge within him, grabbing onto Jude’s arm as if he was about to fall. Jude was none the wiser, the stupid grin still on his face. Kit took a deep breath, and let the valve to his powers open from his brain to the tips of his toes and around his body.

Supervillain had used Omen’s commands to restrict their powers.

Too bad that didn’t work on Kit anymore.

Kit dug his fingers into Jude’s shoulders with one hand, the other at his side. He clicked his fingers and red lightning sparked like a glove from his free hand to the one holding Jude in the blink of an eye. Jude was too slow to react, his eyes blown wide before he was thrown across the room along with Kit from the sheer force of the red lightning.

Jude’s spine hit the wall and he collapsed, twitching on the ground from the impact as the lightning scorched his body.

Oh… that felt good, the voice in Kit’s head said as he straightened, suddenly rejuvenated after releasing the pent up energy on someone without worrying if they’d live or die. It was like stretching for the first tike after being trapped in a tight, constricted pose for a while, his body nourishing itself as the lightning ran up and down his body, lashing out every once in a while.

Kit ran a hand through his hair, exhilarated, a wide smile cutting into his cheeks as he walked towards Jude, ready to finish the job checking to see if he was still alive.

“Kit?” Kit stopped, glancing over his shoulder to see Tides and Sawyer gawking at him with wide eyes. Sawyer’s arm tight around Tides. Kit tilted his head, hungry eyes stalking the tenderness.

Sawyer kept his eyes on Kit’s, not flinching away. “Leave him, we need to get out of here, okay?”

Kit frowned. “But—” he began, his voice crackling like a walkie-talkie.

“I need your help,” Sawyer said, cutting Kit off again. Kit glanced back at Jude’s body, glaring at the shallow rise and fall of his back. “Kit.”

Kit shook his head and sighed, the electricity slowly leaving his body. “Fine. Let’s go.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @@dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

#intoxicating fear #Kit Mallory #Oskar Ambrose #Ambrose #whump writing #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #writblr #orphan writing #whump #writing #villain #hero #intimate whumper #implied relationship #whumper turned whumpee #concussion #violence

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randomfoggytiger · 14 days ago

Note

Prompt: "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you"

"The Magician at Nine"

Fictober Special

*-*-*-*-*

They were ridiculous, made up in splotchy dollar store paint and feathers. Every other block Scully slid her ruined fingers through the weepy black patches around his eyes; every other block he halted under her ministrations, grinned, and traded their pirate and buccaneer hats back and forth.

"We should have waited for tomorrow," he teased, batting away a feather leaning, catching, itching, under his nose, "our getup would have been half off."

"Mm. But then it wouldn't be Halloween." This was important to her, inexplicably important. She'd abandoned her report, clicked her heels to Mulder's room, and whisked him away to town-- to a small party store she's seen, driving from the morgue. They'd barely scrambled together a costume, let alone two, when the spooks and ghouls and fairies swarmed down the streets in a rush.

Mulder paused, abandoned a half-formed thought. Instead, he watched her sweep a black smudge on his cheek, eye her thumb, and rub the excess away on her palm. "Scully...."

"What, Mulder?" The pirate hat was swallowing her head, was likely tickling her partner in the face with its obnoxious, uncontrollable feather. If only the paint would rub away--

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

She froze, contemplating, as three little pumpkins and their parents floated by with glowing green lanterns. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Mulder's skin awash in that sickly illumination, as pale and sweaty as Death. Then it was gone. "How do you see me?"

He shrugged. "I... think you were born to be black and white."

He was not, she knew, referring to her fatal collapse, to Fellig's burning hand and madness. "Like the silver screen?"

"Yeah." It was a flippant dodge. But Mulder changed his mind, again: reaching up, he danced a finger clockwise in his ruined paint job; and, reaching down, he drew this finger across her cheek in a slash. "Like... that."

Scully knew he was speaking to her, writing a labyrinthine answer in his strange, tender artwork. But how to decipher it.... She watched his eyes shift with his mood, watched as second guesses began to replace his former whimsy.

"I always had a soft spot for Maureen O'Hara." Lifting the pirate hat up and off, she nudged at his arm. Trade you.

"Myrna Loye?" Transaction completed, they walked slowly onward. "Rita Hayworth?"

"That wasn't her natural hair color, Mulder."

He raised his eyebrows, smiling in a truly superior way; and she shoved his shoulder, shaking loose a squeaky laugh. Nearly laughing herself, in turn. "Shut up, Mulder."

He did not, in fact, shut up. But he did surprise her: his soiled fingers disappeared into a coat pocket and returned topside, pinching a tiny white handkerchief between them-- which he handed over, comically, like a peace flag.

"For me?" Of course it was for her. "Where'd that come from?"

"Didn't I tell you, Scully?" They both tried to dust each other off, swipes turning into smudged and faded smears as the night darkened around them. "I was actually a magician."

Hm, she thought, busying herself with her work. You are.

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading¬

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober24.

#txf #fic #Happy Halloween #mine #randomfoggytiger's fic #I got just enough inspiration to do your prompt anon!#hope you have fun!#xf fanfic #xfiles #x-files #the x files

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worldsetfree · 10 months ago

Text

Stardust Crusaders × F!Reader: Halcyon and On and On

(+ a bonus character card in this booster pack!)

Around the World in Eighty Days is what Joseph Joestar compared this trip to, and hooh boy, you are really feeling that right now. It's been a non-stop bizarre whirlwind trek across the globe, and yet somehow you've found a few minutes to breathe. Maybe the next train isn't for a few hours, or the group needed to split up to get supplies for the next leg of the journey, but regardless you've decided to spend this precious downtime with the person closest to your heart.

(Feedback is welcome. This is my first time posting this type of content, and I'm still playing with the formatting.)

I. THE MAGICIAN

There's something about a good street market that excites Muhammad Avdol so much. He loves experiencing the culture of the places you're traveling through, and for him, the markets are the best way to do that.

Doubly so if it's with you. Link arms, hold hands, whatever you want. Avdol is happy to bask in your presence.

He wants to impress you with his knowledge! He'll be your tour guide through these busy streets. He makes it look effortless.

He really likes books! If you find a bookstore or a stall selling old tomes, the flame in his heart will burn just a bit brighter for you.

V. THE HIEROPHANT

He is a bit shy, but my God is Kakyoin Noriaki happy to spend time with you.

Really wants to do something very specific to the area with you. Visit a famous landmark, try the local cuisine. He read about it in a travel book once. This boy really values sharing these experiences with you.

Kakyoin will do anything to see your smile. He's the type to buy you pretty things that he spots in the street. Jewelry, mementos... he's really sweet. Notices your style, tries to work with that. Will spend irresponsibly, bless his heart.

Find him something in return and he'll be a mess. Nobody's ever treated him quite like you. He doesn't know how to handle it, but it makes his heart melt.

VII. THE CHARIOT

Jean Pierre Polnareff will talk your ear off in two languages. Mostly showering you with compliments. And complaining, as is par for the course.

Wander the streets together in search of food, some shade, or a good bathroom. He has needs, you know? He's thankful for your company on this little quest of his. Makes him feel important to you.

He'll find some way to spoil you, of course. Flowers, a salon. Let him treat you right, belle! He's always looking for excuses to pamper you. And always hoping you'll reward him with a kiss!

I'm so sorry, but you're running into a Stand User. It's Polnareff, what did you expect? At least he'll keep you safe. Il est vraiment désolé, chérie!

IX. THE HERMIT

Watch this silver fox try to barter like he thinks he knows what he's doing. Joseph Joestar has travelled the world, he's got this! (He doesn't)

OH MY GOD! Is that American cuisine? He is either excited by it or absolutely furious (see: hot cola in Hong Kong). Has a lot of good trivia and insight about whatever he's discovered.

Rambles about this kind of thing specifically to make these strange and far-off places feel a little bit more familiar for you. He knows it's been a stressful trip.

But you've noticed the stress wearing him down too, so you tell the boys to handle the usual errands and take the time to get a bite to eat with Joseph. He's very grateful for the impromptu date.

XVII. THE STAR

On the outside, Kujo Jotaro is perpetually cool and mildly disinterested. Of the group, he is the most likely to want to stay put. But you want to explore? Good grief. He'd better come with you so you don't get into trouble.

Inside, his heart is hammering like he's about to beat down a Stand User. This is all so new and exciting, it's making him nervous. What does he even say??? Fuck, he's out of his element here!

You'll complete an errand and wander aimlessly, silently enjoying each other's company. Maybe you'll end up by the beach. You're looking out at the sunlight shimmering on the water and he's... watching you.

He might not understand what he's feeling in that moment, but someday he will. Love hits a Joestar particularly hard, his grandpa told him once. He'll never forget how beautiful you looked.

0. THE FOOL

(Platonic, he is a dog. I shouldn't have to explain this.)

Fuck you, Iggy goes where he pleases.

You're gonna be cleaning up the mess he leaves in his wake, or chasing after him.

He stole kebab from a child. You're mortified.

You're just gonna wait at the hotel next time.

Bonus Card:

XXI. THE WORLD (uh oh)

Hopefully you caught him in a good mood. Ah, but your presence is almost always enough to lift DIO's spirits.

Do you believe in gravity? (I'm only half-kidding.) He loves to talk philosophy like this with you. Your perspective is both intriguing and amusing to him.

He's surprisingly chatty with you. He's missed what, the past 100 years? He has so many questions for you. Civilization changed so much, and you are one of the lucky few he can trust with his idle curiousities.

Just don't bore him, or else.

#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #part 3 #joseph joestar x reader #dio brando × reader #kujo jotaro x reader #kakyoin noriaki × reader #jean pierre polnareff x reader #muhammad avdol x reader #that's a lotta tags #jjba × reader #ramblingsfromzawarudo

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bajistadiamond · 2 years ago

Text

Yuu and the Magical Power of Songs

Yuu Singer, Pomefiore (I Put a Spell on You)

Things were ant-colored.

Since Yuu has weird dreams he takes them as premonitions.

His most recent dream let her know that the Overblot de Vil was about to happen.

On the day of the VDC/SDC everything seemed normal, even Epel was super motivated. But then it all went down the tubes when the Royal Sword Academy held their practice.

Yuu watched as Vil's eyes lost their shine and became vacant before turning elsewhere.

Jamil, Kalim and Rook also realized what was going to happen. So they took the reins. When Ace, Deuce, Epel went for snacks, Jamil told Yuu to go with them and if he found Ruggie to stay with him.

Yuu didn't want to go and leave Kalim and Jamil alone, but Jamil was very convincing.

After some time with his friends, Yuu saw Ruggie.

The hyena beast boy noticed the white-haired man's concern and asked him what was wrong.

Before Yuu could reply, a ruckus broke out as Neige Leblanche arrived.

Using the neuron that sometimes worked, Grim asked his "minion" if he noticed anything strange in Neige's eyes.

Yuu saw it, it was Jamil's magic. Which meant that Negie was only here as a distraction.

Concerned Ruggie asked again what was wrong. Yuu looked at the stadium, noticing a nearly invisible purple magic dome.

Yuu told the boys to go to the stadium, that he would catch up with them later.

They understood the situation and when they left he summarized things for Ruggie. Beast boy looked at Yuu seriously. "Leona is sleeping, what do you need me to do?" Yuu smiled and hugged him. "Go with the flow." He said the white haired one before calling Crowley.

Crowley was very worried.

They may say that he is lazy or negligent with his work as NRC director, but he cares deeply for his students.

As one of the most powerful magicians on the "Island of the Sages" he can sense the disturbances in the magic of the place; not at the level of a fae, but he's still enough to feel an Overblot unleashed.

As he ponders how to fix the problem without alerting everyone on campus, he receives a call. "Yuu?" He wonders looking at his cell phone before answering. "Yuu, what…?" "No time to explain, I need access to the island-wide public address system." Yuu said interrupting Dire.

Yuu knew that Neige wouldn't be distracting enough, so he thought of hypnotizing everyone. Not only those present on campus but also the island in general so that nothing was leaked to the media.

Crowley wanted to ask what crazy thing his favorite student was going to do, but now there was no time. "Ok~ Explain to me later." He said before ending the call and sending Yuu the access link and password.

Ruggie couldn't believe Crowley gave that to Yuu and when she asked how he did it, Yuu smiled mischievously. "Privileges of the voice of the gods".

Yuu quickly accessed the system, but for the song he was going to use he required another person. He looked around and saw Azul at a vegan burger stand. "Azul!". He called the silver-haired Yuu.

Azul looked at Yuu and blushed because they found him eating, but before he could say anything Yuu grabbed his arm. "There is no time to explain or eat; I need your help." Azul looked at Ruggie, the beast boy shrugs.

After a while, they reach Main Street; the place is empty. "Okay, trust me." Yu tells Ruggie and Azul. The second years look at each other and then nod at Yuu.

They completely trust him.

Yuu smiled determinedly and activated the PA system…

~I put a spell on you~

~And now you're mine~

Yuu's voice was an eerie whisper. Yuu was very much against using her gift to control people, but it was an emergency and what better way to do it than with a super iconic song.

You can't stop the things I do~

I ain't lyin' ~

Ruggie and Azul couldn't believe their ears; the song that Yuu sang was a Halloween urban legend. They at that moment felt their magic increase, as if they were absorbing the magic of others to make them more susceptible to mind control.

It's been three hundred years~

Right down to the day~

Every being on the island or who could hear the speakers suddenly went blank. Yuu had in mind that those who were busy doing some work would do it robotically so they wouldn't get hurt.

Now the witch is back~

Yuu snapped his fingers creating a dome of colors over the entire island; The boy was surprised that he could create it, it was one of the biggest things he has created using the magic around him. Azul and Ruggie couldn't help but smile in amazement. "He has come a long way; I must give him a raise in his work." He thought the one with glasses. "How handsome and." The hyena boy thought; Yuu looked at him and winked causing a blush.

And there's hell to pay~

Negie was one of the last on the NRC campus to fall under hypnosis. He did not understand what was happening, but he knew that he was not in danger; a voice said over and over again that he trust. It might always be something innocent and witty, but he knew that that voice wasn't lying.

I put a spell on you~

And now you're mine~!

Yuu motioned for Ruggie and Azul to follow him. The three of them walked swaying their hips and mischievous smiles; in a way Yuu looked like he was the absolute master of the place. The song itself made him feel that way, but Yuu wasn't seduced by the power. His teacher taught him that many songs had the emotions of the original person who sang them; "I put spell on you" was made by Winifred to control Salem, so the song itself caused you to seek power. That was the reason why Yuu looked for trustworthy people, they helped keep his feet on the ground.

Hello Night Raven College

My name´s Yuu Ross!

What´s yours?

Each being fell under the enchantment of the voice of the gods, they danced and moved to the rhythm of the song. However, there is a being that was not entirely under that control. A certain fae was unaware of anything as he strolled through the forest in a state of bliss. He had been invited to an event by Yuu, he couldn't handle his happiness.

I put a spell on you~

And now you're gone~

Gone~, gone~, gone~, so long~! Azul and Ruggie sang with mocking gestures of distance.

My whammy fell on you~

And it was strong~

So strong~, so strong~, so strong~! "This power is intoxicating." Azul and Ruggie thought as they felt more power than they had in their core.

"Ok, more concentration." Yuu thought as he felt the slight attempts of the song to corrupt him and his choir accompanists. Yuu caused magic to swirl in his heart and turn him into a purifying light that drove away the whispers of the song's original composer.

Your wretched little lives~

Have all been cursed~

'Cause of all the witches working~

I'm the worst~

Yuu looked at the coliseum and the dome formed by Vil's overblot magic. The young man hoped that his gift had put everything on pause there. And certainly, as Yuu wanted, the VDC group from Night Raven College did not budge. The only one of that group who noticed that was Vil, who in his unstable mental state was screaming for not being able to move.

I put a spell on you~

And now you're mine~

The magic also added a few things to Yuu, Ruggie and Azul's wardrobe. Yuu, who was already wearing a white lace shirt and black pants and boots, got a purple corset over his shirt and a forest green tunic decorated with Celtic symbols and diamonds. Ruggie, who was wearing a PE tracksuit, got a short-sleeved pastel pink tunic and long gloves with floral designs. As for Azul who wore the dormitory leader uniform she got a complete outfit; His jacket lengthened into a skirt and turned red, his hat changed to a black veil edged in gold, and his shoes changed to brown boots.

Watch out~! Watch out~!

Watch out~! Watch out~

She ain’t lyin’ ~

Azul and Ruggie stomped viciously through the mesmerized getting carried away with the fun moment... Azul saw Jade and Floyd in the crowd, he walked towards them; he planted a kiss on Jade's nose and one on the Floyd´s cheek. Ruggie saw Leona asleep as his tail swayed to the music; he took a soda from a food stall and poured it on the lion… Maybe he will die later, but it would be worth it.

If you don't believe~

You better get superstitious~

Ask my friends

"Ooh, he's vicious~!" Azul and Ruggie whispered as if it were a secret.

Uh~!, Eeh~!

Yuu pointed from left to right with his arms and shook his head in a dance that was imitated by those closest to him.

You might also like~

Yuu looked at Azul and Ruggie with a slight evil smile, which they imitated. The song didn't corrupt them, they couldn't help but get carried away with the fun. Yuu decided to spice up the place by adding a couple of jack-o'-lanterns made of ice.

I put a spell on you...

A wicked spell~

I put a spell on you...

Oh Yeah~!

Crowley watched from his window everything. Despite the fact that his office was surrounded by shields and anti-spell wards, his shoulders moved with rhythm. The director looked at the coliseum before sighing. "I hope Ambrose doesn't find out about this." He thought with a frown.

Ah, say into pi, alpha maybe upendi~

Ah, say into pi, alpha maybe upendi!

In comma-coriyama~

Hey!, hey

High!, high!

Say bye~

The two chorister boys and the owner of the "voice of the gods" sang in opera-worthy tones, which surprised even them. The three raised their hands to heaven as they reached the end of the memorable performance that no one will ever know and remember.

Bye-bye~!

Oh-oh-ah

Bye, bye~!

With the final pose, the magic returned the outfit to its normal state in a flash. The dome that surrounded the island and while it was there the hypnosis would be maintained... It won't last long though.

Yuu looked at Ruggie and Azul. "Ok, any questions you have…" "You'll answer them later." Azul interrupted him while he adjusted his glasses. The hyena beast boy nodded. "shishishi~ don't worry Yuu, go save the day." Yuu smiled before stroking the hyena's head and ears causing a purr and a deep blush. "See you later~" Yuu assured them before running to the coliseum. There was a moment of silence before Azul cleared his throat. "So…you and Yuu?" Ruggie looked at Azul. "That is not of you incumbence." Azul nodded at what Ruggie said. "And besides, we haven't dormized anything yet." Azul looked at him blankly. Even he had already discussed things with the Leech twins. "Sometimes love makes you stupid." He thought the silver haired one.

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gamerwoman3d · 1 year ago

Text

Beta Tester

An MK1 Scorpion Smut imagine fanfiction

Note: if you wanna cut the story plot and get straight to the filth, scroll until you see the animated gif. Other info/notes in the tags.

Imagine you and a friend spot a man with a scorpion tattoo at a party once. Later on in a living room somewhere you find yourselves both talking about how hot he is, and gossiping about him and his overly generous, sweet wife, Harumi. Some months later you see your friend at a party flirting with some other unremarkable new guy when you notice your friend has some weird burn marks on their arm.

[Explicit/spicy below the cut 🔞]

As you ask about it, your friend just covers the burn and avoids the topic, preferring to talk about the flirty new guy. You assume the burn mark was from a hot stove, only to realize that it's actually a rope burn from some kink play gone wrong.

You need details, but worry that if you say anything right now you might scare away the uninspiring new guy. After all, the new guy just met your friend tonight and could not possibly have been responsible for the burn. The two leave the party together before you can ask.

Harumi introduced herself to you not long after they left. She has a gift for your absent friend. You say you'll see your friend tomorrow and can deliver the gift. Harumi leaves it with you in a small gift bag. The following day, your friend can't stop talking all about the new guy and the night they shared.

Your friend seems awkward opening the gift from Harumi only to find bandages and silver sulfadine cream - a type of wound care for open burn blisters. When you ask what's up, your friend confesses that not only have they been regularly fulfilling the hot husband's kink fantasies, but that Harumi herself sanctioned your friend's involvement with her man.

You shamelessly ask your friend to tell you everything.

As it turns out, Harumi wants nothing more than to be his little rope bunny, but they have very specific rules in their culture and in their prenuptial agreement; He cannot leave marks on her, ever.

Privately, the pair practices and workshops their rougher ideas on willing third parties. Your friend is one of those parties, and has the burns and bruises to show for it.

"This one is from a knot in the rope. I landed on the knot wrong when we took me down. We'd been playing with suspension. These little ones are from a melted candle. That one is where the rope was too loose and slipped and caused a burn. I didn't even notice it was burning at the time..."

"How did you not notice?!" you ask.

"He was eating me at that moment. He wanted me to squirm. He got what he wanted."

"Um... does everyone get what they want in that arrangement?"

"Well, Harumi wants him violently, so in her case no, she does not get what she's wanting. But god it's so good when he gets going. I hope she gets what she wants from him someday. She seems to enjoy living vicariously through me. She'll request that he take me rough and work off his energy on me before going back to her to do gentler stuff afterwards. I've heard her whimpering; by the time he's done with me, she's ready to burst."

"I gotta ask... has your new guy asked about the marks?"

"We haven't talked about it yet, but I suspect if I'm going to keep him, I have to call the whole thing off with Harumi and her husband."

"Just to be clear, we're talking about that guy with the scorpion tattoo, right?"

"Yeah that's her husband."

"That guy is hot as fire, what's his name? You kept calling him Harumi's husband?" you ask.

"At the risk of sounding even sluttier than I already sound, admittedly I actually don't know his real name. And I feel kinda weird just calling him Scorpion but... even Harumi calls him that when I'm around."

"Wow."

"Yeah yeah I know. I think he's some kind of street performer or magician, he does neat tricks with fire sometimes. It makes sense that he has a stage name if he's doing magic or whatever. But like... I'm not calling him that unless I have to see him. And the next time I see them is... oh shit. I'm supposed to go over to their place tonight..."

"You going?"

"I should call it off. I don't want to potentially ruin things with my new man. But oh god, if he doesn't work out then I don't want to lose my place with them. Let's face it, I'm not the only 'beta tester' that they employ; someone will take my place if I drop out, and I won't forgive myself if I get dumped and then also can't get my spot back."

"I wish I could take your spot for you, cuz like... damn. I'll call him Scorpion if it means he breaks me off."

"Actually... maybe you could fill in for me tonight?"

Imagine showing up to their door unnanounced, a white knuckle grip on the gift bag Harumi had left you as you practice the lie over and over in your head. He opens the door.

Confusion knits his brow as he waits for you to explain your presence. You ask for Harumi. He calls for her. She joins him in the doorway, and you reach out, offering the bag to her. You tell her that your friend is sick today and didn't want visitors; you thought the responsible thing would be to return the gift to Harumi. She makes a disappointed groan and says she really hated to hear that they're ill, adding how much she 'needed' to see them tonight.

Imagine taking a deep breath, and offering to help, just like you rehearsed with your friend. "I'm happy to help you with whatever work they were going to do for you tonight," you say from a script your friend made you rehearse.

The pair exchange glances and then look back to you.

"What kind of work do you do," he asks.

His eyes dart over your body in one quick, cautious overlook. He stops as soon as he starts; he sensed that his look caused you some tension.

"It's um, secure work, with a lot of lifting, uhm, yeah, I can at least help out with the lifting, if you wanna show me the ropes?"

You tell yourself that the word 'um' was not a part of your script. But upon hearing the keyords, secure, lifting, ropes, the couple's demeanor relaxes. He arches a questioning eyebrow at his wife. Harumi has a pleasant glitter in her eyes that speaks to her approval. They both nod slightly in unison and invite you inside. He's suppressing a smile as he looks you over again, with intent this time. He knows that you know what you're getting into, and is no longer as concerned about causing you tension.

"Make yourself at home. Bathrooms are on the left, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. We do the work in the weight room, which is down that hall. Do you need anything to get started?" Harumi asks.

"Just... one thing. Between us?"

Harumi looks to her husband. He nods and walks away, in the direction of the weight room.

"I just wanted to check if um, if you're really okay with this stuff? I don't wanna do anything with him without your approval," you say as another line you rehearsed.

"Of course! I'm happy to have someone helping take care of Scorpion's needs!"

Imagine thinking wow, your friend wasn't wrong; that name does sound weird.

You can't help but ask if that's his real name.

"It is, to you," he interrupts.

You look up to see him standing at the end of the hall. He makes a 'come here' motion with his finger. Harumi places her hand on your shoulder and gives you a gentle, affirming push his direction.

"You'd better go," she muses, "lest he come get you and drag you over there."

You know now for certain that she's agreed to loan her man out to you, and you also see that he's eager.

Inside the weight room, the floor is covered with foam mats and one wall is nothing but shelves of equipment for rope dart sports. A collection of shéng biāo are coiled and organized from beginner to advanced. The bright red, soft and silky ropes stand out as odd. Imagine following him inside this room only to find lit candles and incense at a small dragon-shaped altar in the room. A stand near the altar holds an assortment of more sensual things, including red silks, lubricants, condoms, dragon-etched ornamental glass pillar candles, and an unopened pack of that silver sulfadine next to a very visible first aid kit. He picks over the red ropes, spinning one in his hand to test for it's weight. Harumi enters with a woven basket full of red fabric, smelling of lavender and pumpkin spice.

"Use these," she says, "I tried a new fabric softener on them. They're fresh from the dryer."

He lets one slip between his fingers.

"Ooh," he exclaims, "they're still warm. And they're very soft. Thank you."

Harumi closes the door as she leaves, winking at you to bid you to have fun. The door latch clicks. Scorpion's eyebrow is raised when he turns back to stare at you.

"So you," he starts, "Why did you come tonight? What are you looking forward to the most, what excites you?"

You realize you stammered without answering as your brain practically buffered. He had a smile in his eyes as he shamelessly checked you out. The smile spread to his lips as he unwound his top from around his torso.

"It's cute that you're stammering. I'm going to miss it. Most people stop stammering after you break through the touch barrier. We haven't touched yet, have we? There's still an awkwardness that I don't think would be there had we broken the touch barrier."

Now stripped to the waist, he picked up and fondled a length of the soft red rope. He sees the way you look at his body and invites you to him with a gesture.

"Would you like to touch?" he asks.

You inch forward and reach out towards his chest. You couldn't be more tense if you were on the brink of toppling a Jenga tower. You take the rope, and let your knuckles brush his skin as you rub your thumb over the silky smooth warm fiber of the rope.

"I meant would you like to touch me," he said.

He smirks, but remains still, his eyes locked on yours as you force yourself to concentrate on the rope. You let the rope fall from your hand and touch his chest with your fingertips.

The pad of his thumb gently grazes the length of your finger. He presses into your touch, gently runs one finger through the hair over your eye and past your ear. His voice is warm when he says "I like that."

His fingers trace down your neck and he says "It feels good. I want to show you how it feels. May I feel?"

When you nod, he reaches under your clothes to fondle the skin near your nipple. He finds your nipple with his fingertips and traces spirals over it with a feather light touch.

"Let's try that question again. What are you looking forward to, right now, in this very moment?" he asks.

Your mind immediately jumps to sex. You have a vision of you both naked, you helpless in his arms while impaled mercilessly on his cock. Your eyes dart to his pants involuntarily. You shut them, but he already saw where they strayed. He gestured towards his erection.

"Would you like to see it?" he offered.

An easy enough question to answer with a nod.

"Do you want me to take it out, or would you prefer to do it?"

"I'll do it," you say.

Imagine unwrapping his package like a present. You can feel his gift through the wrapping. You might try to guess things about this gift before you reveal it. When you do expose it, it feels warm to the touch, feverish and firm. It has heft, but stands on its own despite its weight.

"What do you want to do with it?" He asks.

"Oh, uh, lots of things... what do you want to do with it?"

He holds up the length of red rope suggestively.

"I wanted to tie you up and sling you from the ceiling, so that when I fucked you with it you swing back and forth on it in the air," he said.

"Oh," you said.

Fire, Oh my fucking god, fire said your body.

Then he leaned in close to your ear.

"What can I do for you to get you to do that for me?" he murmured.

"Nothi- I mean, it sounds fun... just get me off?" you asked.

"With pleasure," he said.

He tugged at the fabric of your clothes and asked if you prefer to undress yourself or if you want him to do it. Either way the clothes come off in a blur and he presses the warm soft rope against your skin, rapidly cocooning your form in a macrame sling custom to your body.

Imagine the softest, silkiest ropes whipping around some parts of your body several times as he worked you into a makeshift rope harness. The ropes are warm against the skin; straight from the dryer, they retain heat for a while. His hands brush against you as he works the ropes over your entire body. When he reaches between your legs to wind the ropes through, he grazes the skin of your inner thigh with the back of his knuckles. He pets parts of you as he works, enjoying the feel of your body, knowing you enjoy the feel of his warm hands on your skin. Soon you look like you've been woven into a fancy net. He slings the ropes expertly through the hooks of a pulley above. One last knot and he's hoisting you into the air and asking you if you're comfortable.

"Does it dig into the skin at any point," he asks.

Imagine the rope swing feeling surprisingly comfortable. Imagine it like a recliner you can lean back in, but which forces your legs up and apart. You can barely move, but find you can rock yourself just slightly.

Imagine him running his fingertips over your skin, stopping to pay attention to the areas that make you shudder, all while commanding you to tell him how you get yourself off when you're alone. He asks what you fantasize about happening when you're alone with yourself.

If he finds out that you're rough with yourself when you're alone, imagine the glint in his eye when he shows you a rubber version of the metal dart at the end of a red silky rope. These rubber darts are made for practice.

He says It stings when it hits. It is designed for training rope dart techniques, designed to minimize injury and damage. He says a good design will still inflict enough pain that one is forced to learn from their mistakes, lest they repeat them with a metal dart and potentially do real harm. If he thinks you're interested in the stinging sensation, he offers to test it on you.

He has a habit of running his a thumb along his "beta testers" genitals, asking them to reveal their most sensitive spot. He says he likes to play a game where he throws the rope dart around their bodies - the dart wraps their thigh or their belly several times, squeezing it tight, and continues to wrap rapidly until the rubber tip slaps the targeted spot.

The cringe from that sting is the best way he knows for checking whether the rope sling is tied well enough. Regardless of whether or not the sting was too much, he'll croon apologies and go down on that spot, kissing and sucking and sometimes gagging on it until he's verbally forgiven for stinging his helpless lovers.

"Can I get the oral sex without the sting?" You might ask.

He won't answer in words, just in an arched eyebrow and a smirk right before he goes down without further announcement.

He needs to see you cringe and squirm in the net he wove you into, and he won't stop pleasuring you until your body has locked up in involuntary spasms at least once.

Another of his favorite tests is the act of bouncing you on his hand while you're suspended. He uses the same circular motion as when he's spinning his ropes, only his middle and ring fingers are up, inside you, working your inner spot. The motion causes the whole sling to rock and drives his fingers deeper inside with gravity. He really only uses it as a preview to the motion you'll feel when he fucks you senseless in your sex swing.

The pillar candles aren't just pretty. They're full of wax. It might be massage wax or candle wax, but either way he shows you a magic trick...

First, the condom. It's on him. It glistens. He made certain you're dripping wet before he put it on. But now, a magic trick. He holds the long glass tube of the pillar candle, close to the base. He looks into your eyes and tells you he's going to melt all of the wax in the candle and pour it out onto you. You see the whitish wax in the jar turn clear at the places where his fingertips touch. The dragons etched into the glass begin to burn as if coated with lighter fluid. The wax turns clear underneath the dragon pattern. Soon the entire candle is no longer a white solid, but a clear, hot liquid, sloshing around in the glass as he gently shakes it in suggestive circles. You feel the circles mirrored between your legs as he grinds his cock against you.

He knows you want it inside. He wants you to plead and negotiate with him for it. You can have all his cock if you forgive him for stinging you... if you can accept that he likes to sting you, and understand that he gets off on it when he makes you feel stung. He'll ask if he can burn and sting you with the hot wax, and if you'll forgive him for causing you pain, ask if he can fuck the hell out of you, hard.

This is what you came for after all.

The liquid is hot as a motherfucker as he drizzles it over your body, leaving patterns of clear liquid that rapidly cool to white across the red ropes and reddening skin beneath the scalding wax. Thrashing against the pain, the ropes hold you in place. It is the wincing on your face that provides him his cue to give you what you came for; you've done your worst to his ropes and haven't freed yourself yet. Confident that his ropework is sturdy enough to continue, sturdy enough to let loose and fuck your brains out without worry, he pushes you back and lets his cock fall between your legs. He wastes no more time, sinking his cock as deep into you as he can get on the first thrust, trusting that gravity will sling you back on it harder as he rocks you back and forth on his cock suspended in midair.

He dumps the last of the wax and slings the empty pillar jar to the side. Clear wax dribbles down your hips and thighs and congeals there in white rivulets. He gets some on him as well, but it's strange - on him, the mess stays clear. If he presses his hot skin against you and comes back with white fragments of cooled wax, they fade from solid white to liquid clear against his body. The wax is all over his belly below the naval, and each rough slap of his body against yours just splatters more wax against the deep cut V of his hips. It looks less like wax, and more like someone with clear cum has ejaculated against him multiple times. Therefore it looks like a prophecy that you're currently in the throws of fulfilling.

Whether he takes you rough and flicks you with the sting of this practice dart, or takes you firm but gentle and massages your sore spot from the outside while railing against the best spot from within, he won't stop until you're howling in pleasure and bursting against him.

He'll lower your limp, spent body to the sweaty gymnastic mat below, untie you as you catch your breath, and inspect every inch of your body for marks as he rub a coolant over your burns. One free hand goes to the back of your neck to support you as he lowers you. Imagine the fingertips, still hot as a coffee mug from his grip on the burning glass candle, digging into the muscles at the scruff of your neck. Once he has tended any minor injuries with cooling gel or other first aid, he'll wrap you in something soft and warm straight from the dryer and carry you to the bathroom where Harumi already ran a perfect luxurious bath for you, flower petals and all. Once the pair establishes that you escaped the stinging play without a scratch this time, they leave you to your bath.

That is to say Harumi is pulling at him playfully and as long as you're satisfied, he lets her drag him to bed. All throughout your bath you hear their sighs and moans. You realize that if you like, you can play along in their audio drama; or, you can stay silent, soak it all up and relax.

[The end for now]

Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌

Need more Scorpion smut? Check this one out!

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sekai-no-koi · 6 months ago

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#dcmk #feel free to reblog and promote your choice!#be cool to each other tho!

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doctorzieg · 8 months ago

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Guide to Rewatching Everything Conan Related

Episodes 001-054

Movie 01 (The Time-Bombed Skyscraper)

Episodes 055-097

Movie 02 (The Fourteenth Target)

Episodes 098-139

Short Stories 01-03 (Wait for Me, Wandering Red Butterfly, Santa Claus of Summer; not Conan related but are animated versions of stories Aoyama wrote)

Episode 140

Movie 03 (The Last Wizard of the Century)

Episodes 141-173

OVA 01 (Conan vs. Kid vs. Yaiba - The Grand Battle for the Treasure Sword!)

Short Stories 04-07 (Detective George, Ten Planets, Play It Again, Making of Conan)

Episodes 174-186

Movie 04 (Captured in Her Eyes)

Episodes 187-231

Movie 05 (Countdown to Heaven)

Episodes 232-262

OVA 02 (16 Suspects!?)

Episodes 263-275

Movie 06 (The Phantom of Baker Street)

Episodes 276-303

OVA 03 (Conan, Heiji, and the Vanished Boy)

Episodes 304-315

Movie 07 (Crossroad in the Ancient Capital)

Episodes 316-344

OVA 04 (Conan, Kid, and the Crystal Mother)

Episodes 345-356

Movie 08 (Magician of the Silver Sky)

Episodes 357-383

OVA 05 (The Target is Kogoro!! The Detective Boys’ Secret Report)

Episodes 384-396

Movie 09 (Strategy Above the Depths)

Episodes 397-424

OVA 06 (Follow the Vanished Diamond! Conan and Heiji vs. Kid!)

Episodes 425-434

Movie 10 (The Private Eyes’ Requiem)

Episodes 435-452

Drama Special 01 (A Challenge Letter to Shin'ichi Kudo ~Prologue Until Goodbye~)

Episodes 453-459

OVA 07 (A Challenge from Agasa! Agasa vs. Conan and the Detective Boys)

Episodes 460-470

Movie 11 (Jolly Roger in the Deep Azure)

Episodes 471-490

OVA 08 (The Casebook of Female High School Detective Sonoko Suzuki)

Drama Special 02 (Shin'ichi Kudo Returns! ~Confrontation with the Black Organization~)

Episodes 491-504

Movie 12 (Full Score of Fear)

Magic File 02 (Shin'ichi Kudo, The Case of the Mysterious Wall and the Black Lab)

Episodes 505-520

OVA 09 (The Stranger from Ten Years Later)

Episodes 521-529

Lupin III vs. Detective Conan (TV special)

Episodes 530-531

Movie 13 (The Raven Chaser)

Magic File 03 (Shin'ichi and Ran, Memories of Mahjong Tiles and Tanabata)

Episodes 532-561

OVA 10 (Kid in Trap Island)

Episodes 562-570

Movie 14 (The Lost Ship in the Sky)

Magic File 04 (The Osaka Okonomiyaki Odyssey)

Magic Kaito Special 01

Episodes 571-610

Detective Conan vs. Wooo 01

Detective Conan vs. Wooo 02

Drama Special 03 (A Challenge Letter to Shin'ichi Kudo ~The Mystery of the Legendary Bird~)

Movie 15 (Quarter of Silence)

Magic File 05 (Niigata ~ Tokyo Souvenir Capriccio)

Episodes 611-616

OVA 11 (A Secret Order from London)

Episodes 617-623

Drama Episodes 01-02

Episode 624

Drama Episode 03

Episodes 625-626

Magic Kaito Special 02-03

Drama Episodes 04-07

Episodes 627-628

Drama Episodes 08-09

Episodes 629-630

Drama Episodes 10-11

Episode 631

Magic Kaito Special 04

Drama Episodes 12-13

Episodes 632-634

Magic Kaito Special 05

Episodes 635-641

OVA 12 (The Miracle of Excalibur)

Magic Kaito Special 06

Episodes 642-651

Movie 16 (The Eleventh Striker)

Magic File 06 (Flower of Fantasista)

Drama Special 04 (Shin'ichi Kudo and the Kyoto Shinsengumi Murder Case)

Episodes 652-666

Magic Kaito Special 07-08

Episodes 667-670

Magic Kaito Special 09

Episodes 671-674

Magic Kaito Special 10

Episodes 675-680

Magic Kaito Special 11-12

Episodes 681-694

Movie 17 (Private Eye in the Distant Sea)

Episodes 695-721

Lupin III vs. Detective Conan: The Movie

Episodes 722-735

Movie 18 (Dimensional Sniper)

Episodes 736-753

Magic Kaito 1412 01

Episodes 754-756

Magic Kaito 1412 02-04

Episodes 757-758

Magic Kaito 1412 05-06

Episodes 759-760

Magic Kaito 1412 07-08

Episodes 761-762

Magic Kaito 1412 09-11

The Disappearance of Conan Edogawa ~The Worst Two Days in History~

Magic Kaito 1412 12

Happy New Year, Kogoro Mouri (Fugitive: Kogoro Mouri)

Episodes 763-764

Magic Kaito 1412 13-14

Episodes 765-766

Magic Kaito 1412 15-16

Episode 767

Magic Kaito 1412 17-18

Episode 768

Magic Kaito 1412 19

Episode 769

Magic Kaito 1412 20

Episode 770-771

Magic Kaito 1412 21-22

Episode 772-773

Magic Kaito 1412 23-24

Episode 774

Movie 19 (Sunflowers of Inferno)

Episode 775-813

Movie 20 (The Darkest Nightmare)

Episode 814-844

Episode “One”: The Great Detective Who Shrank

Episode 845-854

Episode 856-874

Episode 855

Movie 21 (Crimson Love Letter) (please see this link for explanation of positioning)

Episode 875-898

Movie 22 (Zero the Enforcer)

Episode 899-935

Movie 23 (The Fist of Blue Sapphire)

Episode 936-1002

Movie 24 (The Scarlet Bullet)

Episode 1003-1038

Zero’s Tea Time 1-2

Episode 1039

Movie 25 (The Bride of Halloween)

Zero’s Tea Time 3

Episode 1040

Zero’s Tea Time 4

Episode 1041

Zero’s Tea Time 5

Episode 1042

Zero’s Tea Time 6

Episode 1043-1058

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 1

Episode 1059

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 2

Episode 1060

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 3-4

Episode 1061

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 5

Episode 1062

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 6

Episode 1063

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 7

Episode 1064

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 8

Episode 1065

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 9

Episode 1066

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 10-12

Episode 1067-1080

Movie 26 (Black Iron Submarine)

Episode 1081-current

#anime #detective conan #SoundCloud

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a-998h · 5 months ago

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Hey there! Can I please request the Stardust Crusaders with an immortal! Chinese! fem reader who's an opera singer and offers sage-like wisdom through her stories and songs? She's also a Hamon user and lived through the events of Phantom Blood and helped Jonathan, Erina and Speedwagon. Reader has a dragon Stand which she can control with her singing. (Stand Name: Dragon King)

Long ago, Reader was kidnapped by Dio's minions from her homeland and she was forced to sing for him at the mansion. She manages to escape with the help of Avdol. When the crusaders ask her about Dio, she tells her story with an entire song about how she was treated like a bird in a cage by Dio, complete with shadow puppets. When they all finally go face-to-face with Dio at Cairo, Reader fights back with the strength of a dragon.

Dio: Ah, (Y/N), it's been a while since we've met. Have you finally came back to me, Dio? If so, bow to your conqueror!

Reader: No matter how hard the wind blows, the mountain cannot bow to it.

You thought Dio, and his legacy, ended that night the ship sunk and Johnathan died. You were working as an opera performer in China, but also a hamon user. You wanted to see the world, so you got a on an English ship, and headed to London. When you arrived, you found work as a stage performer at an Ogre Street bar. You met Johnathan and Speedwagon as they were looking for more hamon users. They found you, and extended the offer to defeat Dio. You joined their cause and met Erina along the way.

You had told them of your immortality, and they took it... well enough.

On thier side, you helped defeat Dion, Wang Chan, and any other villain in the groups way. You would perform songs to easy their nerves, and you would advice to the group. The advice was always a bit riddle like, but it was very sound and reasonable.

When Johnathan died, and Dio was "defeated", you decided to returnto China.

The turth about your immortality, and your exist was taken to the grave by Erina and Speedwagon. Or, so you belived.

You had gone on a trip to Egypt, and you enjoyed the culture and people. You had thought that your life was not in any danger, but you were wrong.

You had been enjoying yourself when you ran into a silver haired young man with half heart earrings. He acted lost and had asked for your help, you told him you didn't know where he wanted to go. You tried to ignore him, but he grabbed you. You fought back with your hamon, but something you didn't see had cut you and something like metal was against your neck.

Before you can ask what he wanted, he dragged you to a mansion. Dio smirked as you were dragged in by Polnareff, Dio grabbed your chin and smirked as he mocked you.

You tried to fight back, by it wasn't working and you ended up being chained up in the mansion. His minions weren't very cruel to you... sometimes. But Dio would make you sing for him, and he would always call you "little nightingale". After weeks, Dio took you with him to recruit Avdol. Before running away, Avdol used Magician's Red to free you. Before running, you got cut by something gold. Now, you have a Stand, you call Dragon King.

Avdol

When he first saw you, he felt bad for you

After the helped you escape, he taught you how to handle your new Stand

Acts as a shoulder to cry on

Takes your wisdom to heart

Likes it when you sing

It takes till the Crusaders defeat D'Arby the older and he recognized you

He would never force you to sing

When you use your Stand and hamon, he is impressed by your skills.

When you use a song to explain what happened to you, he wants to murder Dio even more and he ask let's you know he's there for you

When he is told you're immortal, he smiles a little..

Tries to make sure you heal from your bad memories and that you have many good memories of him

Writes down things he wants to share with you so you have something to remember him from

Gives you a piece of jewelry or other small trinket to remember him by

Joseph

Oh shit...

Granny mentioned you, by he never met you until now

He thought you would be dead, or a super old lady

Ask you to tell him stories about Johnathan and Speedwagon

Is impressed you've kept up with your hamon

Thinks your Stand is cool

Starts jokingly calling you "aunt Y/N"

Is upset you've had to face Dio before

Asks you for tips on how to beat him

Likes hearing you sing, even if he can't understand the words

When you use song to explain what happened to you... he feels mad

Shares stories with you and likes it when you write them down

Promises to introduce you to Holly and Suzi after all of this is over

He feels conflicted on your immortality, but he learns to cope

Takes a lot of pictures and wants to bring you to Japan and America

Jotaro

He thinks you're brain has been traumatized and fired from the desert heat

Calls you old

Acts like he doesn't like you're singing

Rolls his eyes at your wisdoms, but he sometimes takes it to heart

Once he learns what happened to you.... he goes silent

Now, he promises to help you get revenge

Whenever you sing, he can figure out some words that are similar in Chinese and Japanese

Your singing helps him cope with what the hell is happening

Helps you cope with being around Polnareff and Kakyoin

Finds your Stand and control method kind of cool... sometimes

Other times he finds it a bit of a hindrance as it kind of gives your location away

Has to have you explain what hamon is and how it works

Finds your power, a bit strange

Is wondering how the hell you're immortal

He gives you one of his old hats because, "it's ratty and I don't want it anymore"

Overall, a little confused by your existence

Kakyoin

Oh boy...

He remembers you, and he knows you're freaked out when seeing him

Knew about you singing, because Dio would force you to sing for all his minions and himself

Keeps his distance from you, just so you dont kill him

Eventually, he takes the first step

Moves slowly when trying to befriend you

When he learns full about what happened to you... if he didn't want to murder Dio before, he wants to now

Tries his best to not make you feel awkward

Smiles seeing you singing because you want to

Will fully listen to your wisdom and advice

Thinks your Stand is awesome

Will paint and draw and give the pictures to you so you can remember him

Takes your immortality the easiest

Polnareff

Holy fuck....

He definitely remembers you and what he did to you

Keeps his distance because he's scared you'll kill him in his sleep

Tries to take the first step, but he's nervous

Eventually, you two bridge that gap

Now, Polnareff is happy to see you sing on your own time

Remembering the forced singing you did at the mansion, he never asks you to sing if you don't want to

He was the last to learn about your immortality, and he just stares into the middle distance

Then, he just nods and says "ok"

Whenever you sing, he smiles and listens

Might roll his eyes at your wisdom

He tries to act macho when you give him advice, then he listens to it because you're right

Thinks your Stand is badass

Wants to try and pet the dragon scales

Thinks your singing control method is badass

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year ago

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Vesuviella: Part 17

It seems that your friend group has a gift for knocking on your shop’s back door whenever you’re trying to rest. First the Devorak siblings' uneven rhythm, and now the sharp sound of metal tapping on wood as you’re just getting ready to head upstairs for a bedtime snack. You briefly hesitate before turning from the steps to let Lucio in.

“MC! Surprised to see me? You know, you should really consider changing up your -” Whatever else he planned to say is drowned out by the ruckus of two large, white, excited dogs pushing their way into your shop and jumping up to lick you. Between their barking, Lucio’s continued nervous chatter, and the late hour, you cave and open your door further.

“Come in.”

He’s already making himself at home at your backroom table by the time you relock the back door. He’s still talking, something about a group of strangers recognizing him and insisting they buy him drinks and dragging him to this part of town which is why he’s here now, and –

“What’s wrong, Lucio?”

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong! I'm great! I’m always great!”

You lean back in your seat opposite him, too tired to do anything beyond fixing him with an unimpressed look. Mercedes and Melchior are happily rolling on the rug behind your counter, and that’s where Lucio fixes his gaze until he can’t take the silence any more and breaks down.

“It’s not fair. You know I’m good-looking, right? Anyone with eyes does. Jules is just being stupid about this, like he always is. What was he thinking, making me the Ugly Stepsister? Look at me! I’m not ugly!” He pauses in his outburst and glances at you, a flicker of uncertainty in his silver eyes before it vanishes. “Right? I’m not ugly?”

You battle to keep the sleep out of your voice as you try to hide a yawn. “You’re not ugly, Lucio.” You’d normally sound a little more enthusiastic, but keeping your eyes open is a struggle right now and your response is all he needs to keep ranting.

“Of course I’m not ugly. I’m the handsomest guy there is. But what if they can’t see that? You know – because I’m such a good actor, I’ll have to pretend to be ugly, and people might believe it, right?” He’s getting fidgety again, clawed metal gauntlet beginning to put dents in your table and shred at the already fraying edges of the coverings. “And then you’re going to say no to me – in the play, you’re going to say no to the Ugly Stepsister in the play, and go off with that good-for-nothing magician. I mean, Cinderella. It’s just not a good idea to -”

His voice dies in his throat when you lay your hand over his metal arm, just as it’s about to put another gouge in your poor tabletop. You look back into his face, bravado and fear and a little bit of hurt twisting across it, and say the only words your sleep-deprived brain can come up with:

“You can’t control what people see, Lucio. Do your best and the effort will show.”

His face relaxes into a sharp smile. “You think so?” The metal hand under yours turns over to clasp your wrist gently, another warm, human one coming to rest on them. “I’ll be the best, MC. We’ll be the best. There’s no way I can do badly if you’re with me! I mean -”

And he’s sputtering off into another bout of verbal diarrhea as your head begins to nod. Mercedes and Melchior take that as their cue to being roughhousing again, which knocks a whole lower shelf of goods to the floor. Somehow, in the space of about thirty seconds, Lucio manages to wrangle the dogs out of the shop and shoo you off to bed before he disappears down the street. You don’t notice the way your name has been absentmindedly carved into the table where his gauntlet was resting until the next morning.

#vesuviella #the arcana #lucio the arcana #lucio morgasson #the arcana brainrot #arcana brainrot #the arcana fic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana crackfic #the arcana game #ask arcana brainrot

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madllamamomma · 6 months ago

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The Lullaby (Updated Edition)~ [Muriel x OC short story]

[WARNING: Graphic depictions of blood, death, and dying.]

[This is a short story about my female OC, Rhemi; its mostly about tender moment with her friend Julian total fluff and reveals a little into their past. (2024) So I have revised this story because it now pertains to the current arch in The Visitor~. So.... yeah! Here it is].

The silly doctor and you have had your ups and downs. But despite constantly being annoyed, getting into petty arguments, occasionally throwing an elbow or semi-sharp objects at him, you considered Julian Devorak to be a very good friend. He always seemed to walk the line of an annoying brother you never had, nor asked for. Yet, you cherished that in a way. It was a very quirky relationship, but if it ever came down to a serious situation, you knew that Ilyan had your back.

Just before opening his small clinic down the street from the shop, Nadia had sent him a few trunks filled with a few items from his cell in the dungeon. Back when he worked in the palace for a cure, he had collected many things, and abandoned a lot of them after the ritual with the Arcana. But nonetheless, Nadia had found old notes, textbooks, letters, things like that and they no longer had a home in the belly of the castle. She kept wanting him to come and pick up his things, but he always had an excuse, until one day she brought it all to him. Now he was forced to go through it all. Admittedly it's a dull and cumbersome task, but it has to be done one day. A few months after he opened his clinic, he still had things to shift through, and today was a particularly slow day, so he decided to go through the last trunk. Strangely he noticed an old tattered letter that was still sealed with a stamp. The wax was rather pretty, never seen such a mixture of colors before, but for some odd reason it wasn’t addressed to anyone. It did however seem to be housing something inside of the envelope, it seemed to be metallic and had a bit of weight to it. Intrigued, he sits at his desk and decides to open it carefully. Something then spills out despite his care, hitting the desk with a soft CLANK. Two sheets of paper with shakily handwriting encased a small silver locket connected with a long chain. Faintly the locket even sounded as if it was ticking. The closer he looked at it, the locket was beginning to look rather familiar, so much that it actually made him feel a sense of unease without an owner. Gathering his courage, he finally reaches for the necklace….

Muriel came to the shop to meet you for lunch like he did every other day. Julian usually does the same for Asra, and he’s usually very punctual, however today he strangely wasn’t. As the magician starts to get a bit worried, you feel it too. Something is wrong. With a quick look at the clock still ticking by, Asra stands to his feet and decides to go to the clinic and check on him. You suddenly have a pit in your stomach, and feel like you need to tag along. Even Muriel surprisingly didn’t object at all, Julian may not be his favorite person in the world, but he did care about him in his own way.

Once at the clinic, the vibe was like hitting a brick wall, it was cold and harsh. Asra walks in first and just sees Julian sitting at his desk. The poor man just stared at the necklace on the desk, expressionless, his skin pale as if he saw a ghost. He looked like he’d been there frozen for hours. Asra cautiously walks toward him, calls his name out repeatedly, yet he wouldn’t speak a word to him. He didn’t even seem like he could hear him calling. Now terrified, he runs his hand through Ilyan’s red hair, he suddenly jumps, inhaling, finally realizing that his partner was even there. “A-Asra….” He gasps.

The magician pushes his hair out of the Doctor’s face, “What are you doing, Ilya? Why are you staring at some—” His attention suddenly goes to the necklace on the desk, and he starts to turn white as well. “I know that...locket—Where?—H-how? That’s—That’s”

You look up at Muriel, his expression matches yours, you both haven’t the slightest clue of what’s going on. Your brow then narrows. You want to get to the bottom of this. What’s so important about this silly necklace anyway? You stomp over almost wanting to slap some sense into them.

“What is going on here you two?” You start to conjure your magic into your hands. Is there something evil about that necklace? Has it been hexed or something?? Asra takes a step back and refuses to look at you.

“Rh—Rhemi….” Julian hears your voice, he reluctantly stands and slowly turns his face to you. His expression makes you stop dead in your tracks, breaking your heart. He starts to shiver and tears overwhelm his eyes, and whimpers, “It’s my fault...” Asra whips his head towards him, his eyes watery too.

You don’t like how the two are looking at you. It reminds you of the first year you came back to life. Asra would look at you like that. Like he knew something you didn’t. Fear and a bit of anxious anger rises in your stomach as you dart your eyes back between them. “What’s going on?….” Silence. You look at Asra, curling your tight lips into your mouth. “Why...why are you both looking at me like that?” Asra turns his face towards the floor looking like he was trying to search for the words, Julian looks so guilty. You try to search for an answer from Muriel who is still standing behind you. But he just looks as confused as you do, and shakes his head with his brow narrowed as well.

You glance down at the silver necklace. You want to know what’s going on—Something about this stupid damn piece of jewelry has your friends completely scared speechless. It doesn’t feel like any magic is there….Wait… yes there is. I know that magic. You hastily swipe it off the desk about to inspect it closer. Julian sharply yells, “Don’t!! NO!!” And tries to reach out and stop you… but it’s too late….The world goes black for a moment, then suddenly images appear.

A memory……...

———————————————————————————————————

I didn’t like wearing plague masks. They scare people, and for good reason, you can never see your eyes or any form of expression that people so desperately wanted when close to death. Most of these people were going to die and I didn’t want that to be the last thing they saw before they left this realm. That’s not why I did this. I wanted to help people… I didn’t want to make people afraid of me. That's what Aunt Atheana did. She helped people without any want of praise or recognition or riches, no, she purely just wanted to make the world a better place to live in. “We should always try to leave this world better before we give it back.” She’d say. Attempting to finally walk in her footsteps, after she succumbed to the plague herself and Asra leaving me high and dry, I found myself taking her uniform and essentially taking her place.

I wasn’t in the best of places mentally to deal with such chaos, yet I stayed. Hoping. Praying. Mostly for a cure, but deep down I wanted to feel something more than this pain and emptiness I had been feeling the two most important people in my life have left me. But admittedly, I was really here because I was lonely and desperate for a purpose. And even though people around me were dropping like flies, I somehow took solace in it. Death. Maybe even before I got sick… I thought I was dying too?... Maybe… I wanted to die…

There was this little boy…. His bed was in the back corner. His mother and father died just a few days ago. Rene… that was his name… It was Rene. Something about him sitting there on that old banged up cot made me feel like I was looking into my own reflection. He was all alone, dying sitting in a dark damp place with no one left to comfort him. Because of his age, the head plague doctor, the one with eerie sickly green skin and sharp teeth, the very one I despised deeply, wanted the poor thing for an autopsy. They said the boy was a ‘valuable asset’. A valuable asset indeed. He was just a poor little boy, he hadn’t even lived his life yet and this sick fuck wanted nothing more than to tear into him.

Julian, I mean Doctor Devorak, (that's what I was supposed to call him during working hours anyways), he always got onto me when I got too close to the patients. I especially liked to hold the children, I could be a very harsh person, but children really brought out the best in me. They made me feel like I could be a better person.

Julian would say, “..That’s an unnecessary risk you're taking holding them like that.” and get upset at me. Yet, he also never physically stopped me… maybe it’s because I think he knew deep down why I would do it. I think if he could, he’d do the same. Most of the patients go off to the Lazaret after a while, all piled on boats to the small island towards the large ashy smoke stack. But when little Rene’s family had left, and he had to stay behind, he had no idea why. He just wanted to hold his mother’s hand, just so he could say goodbye, yet they took them away regardless.

...He told me he wanted to be an inventor when he grew up….

The frail thing was in the end stages for the Red Plague: His eyes were blood red, skin with a sickly yellow hue under his caramel skin, blood vessels breaking all around his mouth and hands, his poor face even was sunken in and showed the skeleton underneath. That day, he was laying down on the cot in a tight fetal position, clutching something close to his chest. Once he noticed me, he reached out for me, too weak to sit himself up. “M-Miss Rhemi?” He had such manners. I did not like being called a little ‘Miss’. Reminded me of those bad days, but when Rene called me that, it was an exception. No one else was capable of making ‘Miss Rhemi’ sound so sweet..

“Hello Rene.” I said as I sat down next to him, taking off my bird-like mask so he wasn’t so scared.

“I’m cold Miss Rhemi…” He muttered.

I see his boney face and him breaking so shallowly… He’s not going to be long for this world. Choking down my own fears, I gathered him up in my lap, crawling into the cot and covered the both of us with the little dirty blanket and all. “Is that better?” I said, trying not to let him hear the shaking in my voice. He loosens his grip on a tattered stuffed teddy bear with a ribbon around its neck and a button missing for an eye.

He clutched his little weak fingers onto my clothes a little more. God… He was so fragile, so skinny, so weak. “Miss Rhemi… can you sing to me? Momma… she used to sing me a song before I would fall asleep.”

I paused for a moment knowing what was going to happen when he'd fall asleep. “Well… umm..” I started clearing the lump in my throat. “...It’s been so long….. I don’t really know any—” It then dawns on me… Mummy…. Mother’s song…..

I try to remember the words for a moment as I cradle and rock him a bit. A short exhausted chuckle comes from my lungs. “I don’t know if I remember all the words…. I’m also not the best singer.”

Rene buried his boney temple into my chest a little more, seeking motherly comfort. “That’s ok. Momma wasn’t good either...” he suddenly curls himself in a little ball coughing up some blood on his arm, he doesn't even flinch at the sight of it. He’s only eight years old, and he is braver than most adults, he doesn’t look afraid, just tired. I think I was more afraid than he was… He sniffles a bit then continues, ”..But….I still miss her. I miss her voice. Do you miss your mother, Miss Rhemi?”

A hard twisting in my chest swims in my lower intestine with that question. “I do, but she’d sing this song all the time when I was your age. She said one day, she’d become a bird, so she can keep watch over me. So… her song still comforts me.”

“A bird?”

I nod slowly.

He ponders about it a little. “I’d like that. I won’t mind becoming a robin.”

My stomach hurts even more when he utters that. “....I like robins. They’re pretty.”

“Ms. Rhemi, could you sing that to me?” He whispers, becoming a bit heavier in my arms.

I rub his head, gently pushing his hair back, it's so thin some of it even falls out but I try to ignore it. “Alright then…..” Clearing my throat a little, I try to remember the song, but as it starts, it just flows from my lips, I don’t missing a single word:

Ahh oooooooo. Lu lu lu lu.

Hush now, Close your eyes.

Sleep is already coming.

Let your dreams take you miles.

Rest your head to my humming.

Dream of all the beautiful things,

And forget all today’s shortcomings.

Ahhh ooooooooo. Lu lu lu lu.

Hush now, rest your head.

The waves, they’re churning.

Do you hear as they crash?

Forget what you’re yearning

Get some rest, stop your thoughts.

You are young and still learning.

Ahhhh oooooooooooo. Ah-Lu Lu lu lu.”

Rene chuckles through his nose weakly and faintly. “You lied, Miss Rhemi….You have a pretty … v-...voice….” I hum the tune quietly for a moment getting ready to sing the last part.

Rene’s grip suddenly loosens, a strangely deep exhale espaces from his lungs, as if they were completely deflating followed by silence. My blood runs cold as I freeze, realizing that his body is completely limp in my arms. My heart sinks as I check for his pulse… Praying he just fell asleep. He can’t leave me either… not just yet–please don’t leave me too–

Holding his thin wrist I try desperately to search for a sign of life. But eventually I realize that it's no use… He’s…. He’s gone… My breath shutters a bit as I click open the locket to see the watch inside. My hands are shaking so hard, it’s almost impossible to see. Time of death: Wednesday, 2:41 pm… The tears won’t stop pouring out of me. The goddamn green vulture of a doctor will be here soon once he gets word he passed, and then–Then he’ll take him away. He’s body isn’t even fucking cold yet. I… I don’t want them to take him… Not yet…. just… not yet… I just don’t want to be alone.

I swallow the large lump in my throat and continue the last part of the song.

“ Hush now, go to sleep.

Enjoy the night, and what it brings.

If I’m not here, in the morning.

Don’t fear, I'll have grown wings.

I’ll take off to the sky, remember,

Listen to the bird as it sings.

It’s me, I’m still here. Always stop,

And listen to the bird as it sings.

Ahh oooooooooo. Lu lu lu lu.”

I see a pair of long legs making their way towards me, and in the corner of my eye I see Julian slowly approach me. I can't see his expression with his mask on, with his posturing and silence, the silence is answer enough. Despite him, I continue to sing to little Rene as tears still fall from my eyes. He isn’t going to take him from me. But surprisingly, he doesn’t dare stop me….. instead, he kindly comforts me by gently placing his hand on my back and starts to slowly and comfortingly lean into me as I give him no resistance, turning into an embrace. Soon I fully sob into his shoulder and under the mask I can hear him cry as well. I always thought I wanted to be a mother… But losing a child that wasn’t even my own… This was just too much.

Inevitably, Rene was carried away with a light shroud over his face and coins placed on his eyes. The two of us just stayed like that for a moment as Julian held me, and I honestly didn’t want him to let me go either. He insisted afterwards that I’d go home early and take the day off tomorrow. He knew I couldn’t bear to watch that monster, Valdemar, as they cut poor little Rene open to inspect his insides.

I noticed a red beetle crawling on my neck later that night once back in the shop–and I quickly flicked it off in disgust to the floor and smashed it with my boot. Unsure what kind it was. I have never seen its species before... and even looking at Athena's old books I couldn’t find it either.

But as the next day came… I realized I was sick….

But Rene didn't even cough on me... or did he?... Maybe the blood he coughed up accidentally got into my eyes? Or was it the blankets he was wrapped in? The teddy?

The more I think about it the less I realize it even mattered. I’m going to die. And somehow… I'm more shocked to feel that somehow I just feel calm… Instead of being grossly upset, bargaining to save my life like I’m expecting to be…. I don’t think I even mind it. Regret never seems to cross my mind either, Rene would have died alone if I hadn’t been there. And no one that young deserves to die alone like that… Somehow an almost comforted feeling ensnares me after the initial shock. Admittedly, I feel like dying would honestly be easier than living at this point. Strangely, I am not afraid, I don’t like the feeling of easily accepting my inevitable death, but maybe little Rene has given me courage. That or I just lost the will to survive.

As I glance out the window I see a nest of robins on a nearby tree chirping for their mother to feed them and I strangely smile with a single tear dripping down my face.

Rene, maybe I will join you once I’m gone too… Then you can sing me your song.

—————————————————————————————

You stagger backwards, shuddering a little as you drop the necklace to the ground. Your hand braces against your chest hurting all of a sudden. That magic I felt...It was mine…

All the emotions of the past just flooded in like a dam had just broken. But your mind and body can’t keep up with all this, now you just feel numb, unable to process things currently. You feel a little faint.

Muriel’s arms catch you as you nearly trip backwards. Wrapping his arms around you, shocked, “What happened?” He turns you around, and wipes tears from your eyes. You start a bit, not noticing them. He glances back at Julian and Asra, lost for an answer.

Julian drops to the floor to your feet, he’s completely overcome with grief. He rips off his eyepatch, revealing his sick eye and his hands hold the top of his head. His whole body is shaking, sobbing. “Oh, god— Rhemi—My friend...My sweet friend…I’m… I’m so sorry.” Asra rushes to his side, his hands on his back, trying to comfort him.

Julian… he saw that memory too. He didn’t remember that you worked together either. Muriel mentioned that you were trying to help find a cure before you died. But you didn’t connect the fact that Julian was too at that time.

“Julian—“ You mutter.

“I—I knew you— back then…” He chokes on his tears as he speaks.

“Ilya!—“ You gently remove yourself from Muriel’s hold and kneel down to grab Julian’s shoulders, bringing his face off of the floor.

Tears are just streaming down, it breaks your heart, you’ve never seen him like this before. “I… I should have stopped you…I-I got so busy with everything else, I...I didn’t even notice that you’d—”

You grab his face and mutter. “—You were trying to find a cure.”

Muriel looks over to the desk and carefully grabs the tattered letter. He gasps once he sees the words, “Rhemi…. This… this letter… It’s your handwriting.” Silence chokes the room. You can’t even hear anyone breathing.

“I— I know, Muriel…” you say without looking back at him.

“Why… Why is this… your handwriting?” You can hear the paper crumple in Muriel’s hands, his voice sounds desperate for an answer.

You turn your head half way slowly, still holding up Julian. “It was my will….”

His face scrunches, “Your...will??...” he gazes at the letters, a somber look washes over his face as he realizes. “... Your will…”

“It was down there… this entire time… All these years. I had no idea— I never—I never even opened it!!” Julian's shoulder quivers as he continues to cry. “If only I'd gotten the cure quicker!” He slaps his fist into the hard coble stone floor, shaking his head.

“Julian. Stop. That wasn’t your fault.” He grabs your forearm, sniffling.

“I don’t deserve to be your friend, Rhemi…I...I killed you—“

“—No! You didn’t. The plague did.” Tears start to fall from your eyes and lift Julian’s chin up with your fingers so your eyes meet. “ ...I… held that child. Me. I made that choice. I knew what the risks were.”

Muriel's voice shakes a little, “W—why?...Why do you have it, Ilya?”

Julian shakes his head and hangs it down. “She worked for me...”

Muriel is just still, too still as he stares at the letters in his hand. Asra’s has about a thousand different emotions currently.

“You died because….I wasn’t good enough, Rhemi…I was such a failure—” You wrap your arms around his neck, he hiccups and suddenly stops his ranting, but continues to shake violently.

“—I’m here now.” Muriel comes to Julian's and your side and drops to his knees. Asra wraps one of his arms around Julian’s chest, hugging him tightly, his cheek resting on his shoulder. “None of that even matters anymore!...I’m here today because of Asra, because of Nadia, because of Muriel….Because of you, Ilya.”

Slowly Muriel places his large hand on top of his opposite shoulder, and firmly squeezes it. Julian turns his eyes towards him. “She’s—she’s right….” He swallows hard, water in his eyes. “....We all did things we wished we could take back. But we can’t…”

“...I left Rhemi during the plague in the first place.” Asra mutters, muffled by Julian’s shirt. “Ilya, dear. I understand how you feel… But please… it’s true… we all made choices. Made mistakes. But you were not the one to blame. No one really is. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Muriel rests his head on yours. “...I came back because of what you all did…I’m here on this earth. On the floor. Hugging all of you.” You hold Julian even tighter. “...You saved me in the end, Julian.” The doctor slowly wraps his arms around your shoulders, accepting the embrace.

You sit there for a long while until he is able to collect himself, once all of you get yourselves off of the floor. Asra chokes down the tears as he reads the pages out loud. The first page is particularly hard for him. He had to pause sometimes to collect himself:

~~~~~

First page:

The last will and testament of Rhemi Niamh.

To all whom it may concern:

Except for the silver locket enclosed I,magician Rhemi Niamh, of sound mind, hereby relinquish all my earthly possessions to fellow Magician and friend Asra Alnazar, including the shop and all its contents.

He’s the only family I have left.

Asra,

I’m sorry. I was so angry when you left, the only thing I regret is how we ended things, I never would have said those things if I had known it was to be our final farewell on this plane of existence. You're my best friend Asra, and I love you.

I hope you can forgive me.

—Rhemi Niamh

Dear Doctor Julian Devorak,

Ilya, I’m so sorry I had to burden you with this task, but I honestly don’t have anyone else in this city. I know we were mostly just colleagues, I made it abundantly clear that we were nothing but that despite your attempts to be my friend. For that I am sorry. I didn’t let you know me, not the real me anyways. I've had a bad habit of that since I was a girl. As I write this letter contemplating my death, I hope you know that I cherished the company, the laughs, your kindness, and knowledge you shared with me down in the dungeons these last few months. You were always very caring towards me, even when I was difficult or stubborn, or just downright terrible. You never ceased trying to be my friend and I thank you for that. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you these things in person.

...I think we are all a little lonely these days, especially you Julian. Which leads me to the next part…

Please give this will to a magician named Asra Alnazar, he has whitish hair and a purple snake as a familiar. He may come back to shop anyday and I don’t want the deed getting lost.

You should get to know him too, somehow I have a strange feeling you’d both hit it off well. By the way, he’s single, or last I’ve known at least. He’s rather a beautiful creature, honestly. I at least know your type, right Doc? If I was looking at you right now I’d be giving you a wink. With all teasing aside….

I wanted to give this locket. Thank you for taking me in as a student and an assistant to the victims of the plague. I know I wasn’t a replacement to my Aunt Athena, but I only hope by my passing, that you will soon find a cure. Please end this suffering. Maybe even find that sister of yours that you've been searching for. It reminds me of a better revision of someone in my life.

Mother told me on her deathbed that she’d come back as a bird so she kept watch over me from above. Sometimes I think I hear her voice when I hear a songbird sing. I never really understood before. But as I told little Rene, I realized how wonderfully comforting it was. I hope he becomes a little robin, maybe then he'll be full of luck and never want for anything. Robin’s songs are beautiful, don’t you think?

I don’t know what kind of bird I’ll become, but I hope you stop and listen to their songs everyday. Who knows, maybe I’ll sing to you sometime.

With all the love in my heart,

–Rhemi Niamh

—————————

Asra breathes deeply as he wipes his tears. Muriel is holding your hand so tightly, this is all so much to process.

You finally straighten and open your hand and Asra gives the letter to you. “What are we going to do with this?” He asks.

Looking between the three of them and you take a deep breath. Conjuring up a bit of magic in both hands, you blow on the pages and they burst into flames, letting the burning papers drop to the cobble floor.

Asra, Julian, and Muriel all jump, their faces all have the same question. Why?

“Wel…” You smile feeling a bit relieved. “We don’t need it anymore, do we?”

Muriel quickly wipes his nose with the back of his hand and smiles back. “No. You don’t.”

Asra suddenly embraces you from behind. “Thank you, Rhemi.” You lean your face into his arm.

Julian picks up the necklace, stroking the locket’s metalwork with his thumb. All the magic that was once there has all but dissipated. With his outstretched arm he hands the pendant to you. But you shake your head, closing his fist around it and pushing it back to him. “I gave it to you, Julian. I want you to have it…” He looks to you with such an amalgamation of emotions. “... Look, I may get irritated at you… A lot... But you’re still my friend. I never told you that back then and I was wrong to never say it to your face. The old me gave it to you for a reason. So for her sake, please keep it.”

A deeply touched smile graces his lips and he drapes it over his neck. “I’ll wear it proudly, Rhemi.” He says as you wrap your arms around his waist. Asra comes over and pats you gently on the top of the head with the other arm around Julain’s shoulder.

Finally letting go of him to let Asra take over a long hug, you stand back and Muriel reaches and grabs your wrist. Willingly you go into his arms, feeling somehow lighter than before. Then it dawns on you as you suddenly let out a giggle.“Sooooooo, Is no one going to say it?”

The three of them just look at you blankly, have no idea what you're talking about. You glance between them all seeing if one of them would even remotely guess. But, nothing. You sigh hard gesturing towards Asra and Julian, “I’ve been trying to get these two together for years apparently!” Both pairs of their eyes flutter in disbelief.

Muriel huffs grumpily, then just gives in and laughs through his nose, shaking his head slowly at you with a grin and he holds you tighter in his chest. Julian and Asra finally allow themselves to laugh a little holding each other’s hands tightly. Had to lighten the mood somehow, right?

“I guess I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.”

✨The end...... ?....~

The next day as all the outgoing mail was being given to the messenger, Julian hands them everything that was enclosed on his desk rather sloppily, gives them a few coins before shutting the door locking it. Not really knowing what he had handed them, he shrugs too tired to care and heads back to his quarters where a certain lazy white haired magician was keeping his bed warm. He was half asleep when the messenger knocked at the door, and the doctor wanting nothing else but to go back to bed for once. He feel like he could sleep all day today, somehow feeling the most relieved in ages.

Annoyed, the messenger sorts through the scattered bundle of letters, some not even addressed to anyone and had to be returned, until they notice one rather tattered and crumpled letter with a pretty wax seal. It looked like it had a faint shimmer like magic and it was addressed to someone with an overly long fancy well-to-do name and it was to be sent to a foreign kingdom called 'Charlés', which was all the way across the Salty Sea. "Psssh! I ain't taking that..." They grumble as they place the letter into their satchel. "... Hmmm. I'll hand it off to a trading boat heading that way I guess... It'll get there... eventually."

Thanks for reading my hot garbage~

#the arcana #madllamamomma #the arcana muriel #muriel x mc #Julian x asra #my hot trash #rhemi the apprentice #muriel #muriel x apprentice #fluff fest #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #light angst #death #revised fanfic #fanfic #post canon

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qqueenofhades · 1 year ago

Note

With full acknowledgement that you're not actively looking for prompts from the spoopy season list, I do want to do my part as a self-confessed enabler and say that assorted pairings from the Bartimaeus series would lend themselves very well to Fall Semester, Dim Cobbled Street, Chilly Evening, Stargazing, or anything Beyond the Veil related :)

By now, it's Kitty's third year teaching at the University of London, but the first day of term is always extremely strange. She's almost (almost, but not quite) stopped feeling like an interloper, surrounded by chattering commoner students who are just young enough to not fully grasp what a miracle it is that they are here, able to actually study their own country's past in something approaching honest detail. That's Kitty's job, as it's been since she came on as a fixed-term lecturer and has only just, budgetary approval pending, been made the formal offer to convert it into a permanent appointment. However, she isn't sure if she's going to take it. Teaching The History of the Magicians' Empire, 20th-21st Centuries is beyond any doubt important work. She just doesn't know if it's the rest of her life's work.

She ducks into the ladies' loo, checking her makeup. She doesn't usually wear it, but it helps her feel more confident at the front of a lecture theater, and smooths out some of the disunity between her face and her actual age. The silver threads in her dark hair and the lines around her eyes, lasting legacies of the Other Place, make her look an attractive forty, forty-plus. She's barely twenty-five. She doesn't tell the students; it's easier to command their respect if they think she is considerably their senior, instead of barely. They call her Dr. Jones, which is -- well, technically, whenever she gets around to submitting her final revisions on the long-reworked PhD thesis, also a comprehensive and deeply unflattering history of the magicians' empire -- true. She hasn't entirely let go of the fear that a black car will speed up, throw a bag over her head or an imp in an orb, and make her suffer for the things she says, but she says them anyway.

Kitty decides that she looks presentable, clicks up the marble stairs of Senate House in her high heels (another unfortunate concession to women's fashion, definitely not good for climbing fences or staging illegal break-ins -- not that she does that anymore, or at least not very often) and steps into her classroom. It goes well, as much as the first day does. She dashes down to the canteen for lunch, has another class in the afternoon, and by the time she steps out in a chilly rain around four PM, fumbling for her brolly, she wonders if this will be the year she finally stops feeling so damn disconnected from everything and everyone. Maybe she should try again to meet someone, but it's so hard. She doesn't even know who an age-appropriate partner would be. Men in their twenties are rancid; men in their forties are either freaked out when they discover her actual age, or creepily, perversely intrigued. She's not opposed to dating women; maybe she should give that a try. But it's still just a giant --

"Hello, Kitty."

She looks up with a jolt, almost spilling the contents of her purse across the wet cobblestones of the courtyard. She hasn't seen the slight dark-skinned boy, wearing a too-large hooded sweatshirt and floppy trainers, until just now, and she opens her mouth to ask if he's one of her students, though he looks barely old enough for sixth form. But then she catches sight of his eyes, she sees his face, and she knows beyond any doubt. It's been a long time since she's seen him, four or five years at least. She assumes he's been enjoying a well-earned rest in the Other Place, or at least she hopes. But this --

"Bartimaeus." Her voice sounds croaky. She swallows. Of course he looks the same; Ptolemy never ages, and neither do djinn. "I... hello."

He smiles thinly, an eclipsed fingernail, acknowledging that he's startled her. "I see you've gone legitimate these days."

"More or less." Kitty is still thrown from the shock of his appearance, like something from an old life she's almost forgotten, and she can feel her heart racing in her throat. "Coming to check up on me? Make sure I'm not throwing smoke bombs in the classroom?"

"Entirely your own business how you decide to teach the nippers." Bartimaeus tips a cheeky wink -- almost, if not quite, as sardonically uncaring as his old ones. "Suspect a few bombs of any variety could only liven the place up."

Kitty can't really argue with that. It's a miracle that they're letting a former Resistance member in the building at all, and she is always braced for someone calling her to the Head of School's office like a misbehaving child. She looks at him, and he looks at her. Neither of them seems to know what to do. Then casually, as if it's nothing to him either way, Bartimaeus says, "D'you fancy a drink?"

"I -- " Kitty thinks about that. She can't see why not. And she's missed him, more than she can articulate or even admit. Him, and --

Well, never mind. It's no good dwelling on what can never come back. At least she can talk to this one. At least while she still has time.

"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, I think I would."

Bartimaeus, of course, doesn't actually drink. He pays for hers and a plate of supper (no use asking where he got the wallet or the quid), and sits in the booth across from her, watching with those unblinking dark eyes. When she's gotten enough food down her to be moderately more sociable, she says, "I didn't -- I hope you're not back here because you've been enslaved again, are you?"

"No." Bartimaeus shrugs. "Not really anyone who dares to do that any more, not that I miss it. But the gate works both ways, you know. You went to the Other Place, so I can come to your world when I please, without a summoning or a master. Normally I pop down in spring, closer to when -- well." He pauses, as if about to wag an admonitory finger. "Don't get me wrong, now. I don't miss it."

"Course you do." Kitty wipes her mouth. "How else would you add new glorious deeds to your many names?"

Bartimaeus blinks, as if unsure whether she's actually daring to tease him. Then he chuckles wryly, though those eyes still remain dark and liquid and deep as the abyss. "I suppose there's that. Though it does feel as if I've had my fill of bloody glorious deeds for a bit. Any other idiots taken over the world while I've been gone?"

"Not yet. Not as far as I know." Kitty fingers the half-empty beer glass. She wonders if she should ask about that pause earlier, that quickly skipped-over moment. Normally I pop down in spring, closer to when the Glass Palace came down. It is probably just her imagination that that is how that sentence would have ended. Does Bartimaeus, despite all the fraught history between himself and his final master, return to Earth to pay his quiet respects on the anniversary of Nathaniel's death? Or is that Kitty's lonely pilgrimage alone?

"I'm sure there will be some eventually," she says belatedly, to Bartimaeus's expectant expression. "Just not now."

Bartimaeus snorts, a remarkably eloquent and wordless remark that when it comes to the fucking British, an idiot who will attempt to take over the world is never far away. He clears his throat. "You doing anything besides teaching a bunch of commoners how awful the last lot were? Seeing anyone?"

"No." Kitty had briefly thought about moving to Prague and reconnecting with Jakob Hyrnek, but it was only a stillborn fantasy, then and gone. "Why? You're not about to ask me out, are you?"

"What? Me?!" Bartimaeus's outrage is a little too instant and piquant to be, perhaps, entirely real. "A human? Even you?! Never. I'd rather hang myself upside down from silver meathooks and let Faquarl play Little Drummer Boy on my backside. No offense."

"Of course not. No." And yet for an unnerving moment, Kitty finds herself actually considering it. He can take on any shape, he can be anyone, he's the only person (or person-like creature) who understands everything about her, and it would spare her the drudgery of finding any kind of human mate. But no, of course not. It's silly, absurd, unthinkable. Especially if she was so cruel as to ask him to, perhaps, take on the shape and soul of --

Kitty seizes her glass and drinks harder, just to get that image out of her mind. She finishes her meal, and when they step out into a chilly dim evening, London fog twining through the busy streets as it has done in any age of the world and effacing the faint stars, Bartimaeus clears his throat awkwardly. "Actually, I thought -- well. Stupid, really, but speaking of the magicians and studying the things they used to be. I, er. I have something I could show you. If you're interested."

"Something to show me?" Kitty blinks. She supposes that she could pop in, take a look at it, make a note for academic purposes. See if it's something she can talk to her students about, the struggle to make them actually visualize what it was like. Most of the time, she's firmly convinced that it's good that they can't imagine it, that it's not an everyday part of their lived experience. Other times, it is so profoundly alienating that she can hardly breathe.

"Sure." Yet again, Bartimaeus sounds as if he's trying a little too hard to be casual, unaffected, gliding through his endless life with a theatrical twirl, a well-timed Detonation, and a sparkling witticism -- as much a hollow shell as Kitty Jones is, something essential hollowed out and the soul not quite what it used to be, permanently put just to one side. "If you want to, of course. This way."

******

The djinn leads her to some small side-street of the kind that exist by the dozens in London: narrow, cobbled, dim and twisted, flower boxes overhanging from seventeenth-century townhouses that lean together unsteadily like drunken revelers at the pub. There's an art gallery at the end, the kind that looks legitimate but is notorious for fencing old magical artifacts by the bushel, and Kitty opens her mouth to ask if Bartimaeus has brought her here for old times' sake, to break the window and clean the place out. She's not opposed, but she'll at least need to cover her tracks. She doesn't customarily keep that stuff around anymore, either. Maybe she should?

Bartimaeus, however, doesn't appear to have larceny in mind (at least not tonight). He unlocks the door and deftly disables the alarm, which these days is more likely to be a commoner device than a lurking foliot, and they step inside. The place is quiet, dusty, and Kitty has no idea what they're doing here. "Are we supposed to -- "

"Shh." Bartimaeus comes to a halt at the far wall, which is hung with several age-darkened oil portraits of magicians; they are all sporting old-fashioned ruffs and constipated expressions. Since that can't possibly be what he's brought her to see, Kitty frowns, until she notices what's hanging next to it. A full-length mirror filled with oddly nebulous smoke, something that even she -- with her very limited talent, never like the others -- can sense is real magic. She looks at Bartimaeus, utterly lost, and he beckons her. "Here."

Kitty hesitates, decides that he probably wouldn't push her through a portal to some nefarious underworld without at least some warning, and steps up, as he backs away. For a long moment, nothing. All she can see in the mirror is her own pale, tired, too-old face, matching more the full century that she feels than the mere quarter of it that she is. Then she catches sight of something moving in its depths. Walking steadily, coming closer, until it takes shape and form. Until the mirror has become clear and insubstantial as air, as a fluttering veil, and she can feel the chill on her face, breathed from somewhere that is neither the Other Place nor London. A different world altogether, a different gate. It's not --

It can't be --

But then he's standing right in front of her, almost close enough to touch if she reached out and risked her own hand turning to bare and skeletal bone, and it is.

"Hello, Kitty," Nathaniel says, in almost the exact same tone Bartimaeus used. "Long time no see."

Kitty's tongue is locked to the roof of her mouth. She can't speak or move. She thinks wildly that this is a trick -- this isn't Nathaniel, just some strange shade inexplicably summoned out of the mirror's depths, or at most his long-dead fetch -- but just then, it almost seems possible that it is. He looks older than he was when he died: still pinched, thin, dark-haired and pasty-pale, but a man, not a boy. She doesn't know if that's another illusion conjured by her own perception, her own mind trying to picture how he would look now, if he had lived. Just like her, he looks too old for his body, but... handsome. Wise. Serene. All the things he never was in life, as if the ever after has bestowed the learning he drove himself crazy attempting to acquire. They stand there gaping in mutually and excruciatingly awkward silence, like two old friends who ran into each other in the street and aren't sure what to say. Are they friends? It seems like the wrong word, as if they speed-ran right past that and became much more and much less. Possibilities only. Nothing else.

"Nathaniel," Kitty manages at last. "You look... dead. Well. I mean well. For being dead. If you are."

"I am." Something flickers in his eyes, half wry humor and half unbearable grief. "You can have my word on that. Honestly, I'm not sure how we're managing to speak -- wait, you're not -- ?"

"No." His flash of sudden concern is slightly searing, and Kitty doesn't let herself think about it. "I'm in London. There's a mirror. I don't know how he found it, but that's probably beside the -- "

Nathaniel's unearthly eyes flick sideways and spot the dark figure lounging just out of frame. He smiles, shakes his head. "I should have guessed. Hello, Bartimaeus."

"Boss." Bartimaeus snaps off a louche salute, but his eyes are still on Nathaniel in the mirror. "Wasn't actually sure it was going to work this time. It didn't for me -- can you imagine it? It's as if it didn't even know who I am -- but I thought Kitty might have a crack at it."

"You were actually trying to see me again?" Nathaniel raises a skeptical, elegant eyebrow. "That must be a first."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up. Don't read too much into it." Bartimaeus huffs, hands jammed into his too-tight dungaree pockets. "Look. Here you are. You've seen us. We've seen you. Lots of seeing going on, Natty boy. Now you can faff off and be defunct again."

"It's interesting on this side," Nathaniel informs the djinn. "Very interesting. Plenty to study, to learn, to look at. Not really defunct."

"Well." Bartimaeus seems nonplussed -- and though this too is surely Kitty's imagination, slightly choked up. "I'm, er. Glad you're enjoying it. The benefits of your heroic sacrifice, and all."

A pause, weighted between three worlds, three creatures, three planes of existence. The three of them glance at each other, unsure whether to fall back into their old barbed banter or whether this moment is entirely something else, far past all ordinary divisions or decisions. Then Kitty steps closer, raising her hand as if to reach through the veil, though she knows that she can't. Nathaniel does the same, mirroring her gesture like her own reflection -- which technically, she supposes numbly, he is. "You look good," he says, simply and without pretension. "Beautiful, actually."

"I... thanks." At one point she would have loudly scoffed that off, but it slips the lock into her raw, hunkered-down heart and softly turns the key. "Nathaniel, I -- "

"Yes?"

She wants to say so much that she can't, that she can't get her tongue around, even when he's miraculously standing right in front of her, even or perhaps especially because she knows that he has to go. His eyes are as deep and patient as the sea, as the starless shores of the world after death, a place where he still can surface from, but not very often, and not for long. Their fingers ghost as close as they can without touching, they raise their other hands to do the same, and for once, Bartimaeus offers no sardonic comment or other inopportune interruption to break the moment. Kitty almost thinks she can feel Nathaniel's breath on her cheek, but she can't. He has no breath, and it is only the cold chill of death. Their eyes, their noses, their lips are just a few inches apart. If she took the plunge, if she kissed him, if she leapt through the veil right now --

It's an unsettling, alluring feeling, like walking too near the edge of the cliff and being possessed with the urge to jump, and she can't. Not now, not for a while. She swallows, struggles to clear her throat. "It's good to see you, Nathaniel," she says, and steps back, as if to divorce herself from the temptation that still pulls at her hand, that tells her to go through, to learn even more than him, to solve the one mystery that she or her students alike will never know without being so themselves. "We won't... we won't keep you long here. On this side."

Something flashes over his face that she can't read, something that is only the secrets of the dead, that perhaps he could not tell her even if he tried. He smiles. "No," he says gently. "No, you won't."

#tobsjpalfrey #ask #bartimaeus trilogy #nathaniel x kitty #fic prompts #you are all enablers #ENABLERS #mumble mumble #spooky season #anyway HAVE SOME FEELINGS!

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