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simp-ly-writes · 6 months

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Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.3)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Its the task force's first mission as Agents at Taylor Tailor's. How will it go- will other agents accept them and most of all- will you be able to handle working with so many agents on the same mission?

Warnings:2500 words, light swearing and teasing, depictions of blood and violence. A/N: sorry for the delay... decided to change the look of these stories too (hope you like the change!). Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

6:00 PM | Autumn | National Museum of Art and History

Agent Whitby grips the back of another man's suit into a fist, slamming his face repeatedly into the brick wall of the storage room. Blood pours out from their nose, a harsh gash forming against their left cheek and forehead- the skin purple and blue as one of their eyes swells shut. “You really are wasting my time here- you’re a waste of time really for anyone so why not just tell me what the code is, make it easy on your looks and my patience- hm?” he challenges, flicking his head back as the man tries to elbow him in the face.

Letting out a tisk, Whitby drops the man, holding him in place with a dress shoe to the chest as he feels the man begin to cough up blood as he cringes, eyeing at the lower fabric of his suit becoming damaged by the liquid. Letting out a sigh, while shaking his head, glass slipping down his face as he reaches into his waistband leveling the barrel of the gun in between their eyes.

“Let us try this again, where-” Whitby pauses at the sound of your voice coming through his earpiece, tilting his head to the side as he continues to stare down at the man, waiting for him to speak the answers he evers-so needs.

“Whitby, do you have a moment?” you ask coated in sweety-coated sarcasm as you watch him through a hidden camera put on his glasses- observing the man on the floor with mocking pity on your features as you turned to Laswell and point to the room Whitby closed himself into as various enemies flooded the floors below him, making their way upstairs and into the ancient egyptian part of the museum.

“All my time is yours, love. Only to ask,” Whitby says lovingly while stepping into the man's chest harder, hearing as he wheezes out from the pressure. “Warming my heart here darling,” you start to say, hands moving across the keyboard as you add the scanned models of your newest agents into the digital model. “Whitby, I am sending my newest agents in to help you as a gage for the training that needs to be done. You are in charge, congrats- you are a new father of four!”

“You’re joking-” Whity begins to say before Handler Jacobs patches themselves into the call, a still image of them setting on your computer screen as soundwaves spike and drop in rhythm to his speech. “Agent, this is Handler Jacobs, you are green to finish him off- passcode is.” You wince as the gunshot rings in your ears- stilling the blood in your body as switch yours and Laswell’s calls over to the boys comms as they arrive at the scene. Their once greyed out figures now bursting with colour and moving in sync to their current actions.

“Alright Agents, give me a sign that you hear me,” you test, watching the surveillance coverage with a nervous smile as you begin to pick at your nail polish, blood pumping and making it way upwards to your head- settling its thundering beat in your ears. Laswell scoots her office chair closer, placing a hand on your shoulder for reassurance as you let out a large breath. “Loud and clear” rings through your comms as you shake Laswells hand off of you, moving to stand and lean over the diagram. “A physical sign please-” you stress as silence is all you receive on the line, watching as they start to whisper to one another and look around, feeling around their suits.

“I don’t think I copy, Dee…” Gaz says, rubbing the back of his head. “I watch your every move boys while on a mission. And that is Handler D, please. Turn left and go through the staff entrance, inside the envelope is a swipe to get through the door. Charlotte has already put your biometrics into the security. You will have to climb up the disabled elevator shaft. Agent Whitby is on the third floor in the Egyptian exhibit awaiting your arrival as we speak.”

“Oh,” Soap responded, waving his hands widely in the hair as you shake your head- looking at Laswell who is struggling to contain her laughter as you grip at the table, knuckles turning white. You watch as the task force makes their way, peering down each corner and into the elevator shaft as they begin to climb the ropes. You watch their technique, writing a few notes on a nearby paper-pad from your desk upon their technique. “We are on the third floor,” John states.

“Walk as I talk please, turn left, left again, open the yellow door to your right there is a card swipe behind the suit of armour. In 10 steps you find a closet door, open it,” you order, falling back into your chair as their digital models work through the space, guns raised as you click your pen on and off, listening as your clicks sound in tune to the digital clock on your screen. You continue your notes as a ping vibrates through your phone. Mouthing a thank you to Laswell, the report you asked for finally in your inbox.

“Well hello there,” Whitby states, picking up the dead man's handkerchief as he cleans his hands before shaking each of the task force’s in a strong grip and tight smile. “Agent Whitby, do follow me,” he commands, dropping the piece of cloth to the floor before ushering the group outside the closet as he starts to jog down the hall and places the code into the staff hallway before continuing to navigate the maze of white tiled floors and beige walls without a blink of worry. Handler Jacobs rattles off directions in his earpiece as the task force remains impressed by his supposed memorization of the building.

“Alright boys, there is one hostile coming up on your west in 5, 4, 3 2, and…” you watch as Johnny tackles the forager into a nearby cart, various vitals of chemicals spill across the floor as they hiss and fizzle amongst one another, eating away at the leather of his shoes. Loosening his tie, Whitby restrains the woman, humming to himself while scanning the rest of the hallway. “Good work, agent,” Whitby compliments, clapping a hand down on their shoulder before continuing to move down the hall and sporadically turning on 90 degrees to slam the door back on another forger, they curse out in pain, dropping to their knees before quickly standing and rushing out into the hall, starting to swing at Whitby.

Dipping down and extending his leg outwards, the man falls over, face slamming into the tile floors below just before they grip his ankle, tackling the agent down with him. Various punches are shared before Whitby has their purple-head in between his thighs- they whimper for air, slamming their fists repeatedly against his thighs while. Whitby signals over for another tie as John wraps the fabric tightly around their wrists. Straightening his jacket one more, Whitby’s chest rapidly rises and falls- needing air he unbuttons a series from his dress shirt before punching in a code back into the door as it creaks in welcome.

Flicking the lights on, Whitby now walks with a limp to his step- observing the various artifacts in the room sat beside the fakes that were to be sold. Pinching the edge of his glasses, he takes a series of photos- uploading them into the system. “Ghost and Soap, right? If you could demolish these fakes.”

“You have 12 combatants coming from the roof, 20 minutes until they reach you all,” you comment, eyes flicking from the model to the surveillance photo as you chew your lip anxiously. “I have already informed Kyle and Price in the hall but the police are on their way- 30 minutes tops you all. Destroy and set the forgers in place. We cannot be seen,” you state, setting a timer to each of their watches.

“Then let the fun begin,” Whitby announces to the room before they all get to work smashing through the various fake vases and statues that were to be sold for profit through these criminals. Porcelain shards fly and rattle against one another, crunching beneath their shoes. Glass cabinets are flung open, mixing with the debris on the floor as Soap sets fire to a fake wooden ship carving. Flicking your vision back to the hall, John and Kyle made their way back into the room, tying the criminals to desk chairs and placing a bat at their feet with a smirk. Just as they shut the door behind themselves, you clicked a button on your console as the ties fell from their hands and the forgers scrambled and scratched against the door for an escape to only find none besides the prison cell that awaits them.

“You are to take your cars back, Whitby is driving to get your gear cleaned before you step back into the facility- safety protocol. Good work today, boys- a few training notes I have for later but other than that, a successful mission is all that matters- management is pleased,” you note watching as they descended from the window, grappling with their belt and buckle before skirting off into the city streets.

A rock station began to bang through the car's audio system just before you shut off communications and watched them drive to the specialty cleaners. Taking a stand and clapping your hands, Laswell rubbed her eyes before announcing her departure. Taking a long hug together you showed her back to the store front before running across the street to pick up a bottle of liquor. Smiling at the black label brand you pay and dash back to the lobby - pouring out a series of cups with ice and phone for Charlotte, Jason, Jacobs, and Samantha to join you all for a debrief.

–

You smile, watching as the boys do their best to flatten out their freshly primed suits and straighten their ties before walking up to you lounging in one of the many chairs in the large living space of the lobby. The leather creaks under each of their weight, each man smiling as you hand over a glass of Tennessee whisky just as Whitby sends you a knowing wink while eyeing up the bottle.

“Interesting choice, sweetheart.” He teases as you roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder with your own playfully before he starts to lean closer to you, lips drifting featherlight words into your ear as your cheeks turn back. Charlotte smiles at the bottom of her glass, emitting an echoing chuckle before locking her ankles with Jacobs sat across from her.

“Are you all dating? Or is this an agent-handler culture thing we don’t understand?” Johnny asks. Eyeing the way Whitby's hands drift across your clothing, finding hidden bits of your warm skin with a small frown as you furiously shake your head. “No, no, no, definitely not. But in this line of work specifically… you only want to get with people who really know you- for you. Not the management-mandated mask externally…” you drift off just as Whitby places a hand on your knee, smiling reassuringly before standing and distributing the rest of the bottle as you each cheer for a successful first mission.

Returning back home, flicking on the bedroom lamp and getting ready for the night and the subsequent morning after. You could only close that night, snuggling into your cold empty sheets of your house- praying that your remaining “favour-missions” go just as smoothly as the last.

But as the cold night air wept its way through the curtains and into your harrowing dreams as you tossed and turned through the night, gripping and digging into your sheets as the streets became lively in the morning light. Your alarm sounded as you felt around to slam it down shut, another day, another mission done and with your bags packed in preparation. It would be a quick training session and the team's first international mission as a kidnapped royal needed your help.

You groaned at the panic voice mail, the personal bodyguard shaking like a leaf before pleading through your home's digital system speakers. You start a voicemail while pouring a cup of coffee, the toaster pops up as you navigate through the kitchen and settle down at the island.

“I have an agent close by to their last known location- they will be forwarded until I can get me and my team into a local base of operations. We will bring them home for the country,” you finish the note with, chugging down the rest of your drink before washing your plates in the sink. Feeling underneath the counter, your fingers dip into crevices- a light flashes red and the floor just beside your slides open.

A fireproof box hisses open to your fingerprint, various foreign currencies and passports from your past missions flood your memories, fingers drifting over each material and number before settling them on the countertop.

Stepping into your pantry you push back on a wall, the surface rumbles for a moment before turning itself and revealing a series of steps down towards your basement. The lights flicker on to your presence, humming slightly above your head as you make your way down the firing range and towards your collection. Gently picking up and cleaning each gun, you place them in their travel safe and locked containers before slamming the door behind you.

Packing your belongings into a bulletproof suitcase- made from the same material as your suit. “X?” you request to your house, “Yes, Handler Daniels?” the AI responds in a pleasant accent back- awaiting your every order. “Please make a suit reservation in one hour, request for beige to be brought out- we are going tropical,” you state. “Very well,” X responds back before going silent once more.

Suiting yourself up, tying up your dress shoes and slinging a shoulder bag on, you look between the car options you have before deciding on an SUV- needing the seating space for their airport trip that awaited you. Checking your appearance one last time in the rearview mirror you rolled out the driveway and down the country roads. Your house is locked automatically with the lack of your detected presence.

Clicking on the radio, Skyfall began to play through the radio as you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel while awaiting a light change. Rolling your eyes as a driver in front of you almost clipped a pedestrian on the sidewalk wishing to cross on their signal. You pulled into the underground garage underneath the building before driving into a specific parking spot off in a dim corner. It scans the bottom of your car, clicking with approval once finding your matching icon before lowering you deeping into the ground. You smile seeing the various sports cars and SUVs already parked in a line- workers busy or some that even worked through the night as you smile at Samanatha as she waves you in from the front desk, settling yourself in the office once more you read through Lasswell's report before sending out the email. Back your bags boys, we are going international.

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @infpt-zylith @kaoyamamegami @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt

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a-libra-writes · 1 year

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Op...can you do a romantic headcanon for Mordecai from Lackadaisy please ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Yes indeedy ♣️

Reader is GN, pardon the length haha, it got away from me... like ...really got away ............................

I will preface that this would be a ... very slow burn, we're talking the flame is barely there for a long time because that's just how Mordecai Is About Feelings. No, never mind feelings - the trust has to come first, and that's difficult for him. It'll take years, really. You might have an easier time of it if you had a similar upbringing, if you're also Jewish - but that's just slightly easier, and it's not as though he's opening up about himself. It's mostly you talking and being vulnerable first, then he'll begin to volunteer (little bits of) information once he trusts you.

How can you tell he's trusting you? At that point, you've been around him long enough to pick up on Mordecai's mannerisms. He's not as stiff around you, he isn't watching you like you might turn on him, he's calmer and actually talks. You start to pick up what certain glances or gestures mean, when he's relaxed and when someone makes him suspicious. To outsiders, it may seem like you both only tolerate each other.

In fact, you two have something of a secret language with certain looks, gestures, body language and so on. It's especially handy in a gunfight or when you're trying to communicate something across a room. It sort of just came about after years of relying on and trusting each other.

Now, onto the feelings. Mordecai literally blames the feelings on everything but what they are. Was he becoming suspicious of you? No, he trusted you - even if he couldn't say it out loud, he did - perhaps it was a sickness, then? It only alleviated when he was away from you for a long time, but then another awful feeling would replace it, and that only alleviated when you were back. He will pathologize and overthink for literal months (or LONGER if you're a man) before finally conceding that maybe, maybe ... ... it's a crush.

Horrifying. He wants to throw up. Only the thought of the mess he'd have to clean up is keeping him from doing so.

(And obviously he never, ever wants to tell you and figures if he buries it down deep enough it'll just go away)

To anyone at Lackadaisy whose familiar with him, they may notice that he allows you to touch him. It's nothing big at first, and to be fair, he reacted strongly the first few times. You might clean some lint of his coat that he insisted wasn't there, you gently nudge him away from an awkward situation, you softly nudge him and tilt your head to a person you're suspicious of. The first prolonged touch was when you two were utterly exhausted after a run and just leaned against each other in the car, too tired and hurt to move for a while. He didn't say it, but that was probably the closest he'd been to someone in a very, very long time. It almost felt intimate. Thinking back to it made his hair stand on edge for a few days... or a week.

Those who know him may also notice how unusually irritated he gets with men or women "presuming too much" and being too cozy with you. If you're really uncomfortable with the flirting, he'll just outright stand in front of you and dismiss the person with a sharp, green-eyed glare. Mordecai didn't notice he was doing it until Mitzi pointed it out, and he had plenty of excuses ready. Once you both have an "understanding", he's even less tolerant of other people invading your space and being too forward - quite interesting, considering if someone is coming onto him, he's far less aggressive and far more awkward about it.

A lot of being with Mordecai is having to accept that sometimes, you won't hear what you want. Sometimes you have to pay attention to his actions and intentions. Sometimes you won't have a clear idea what he means or wants at all, at least not for a while. Mordecai is aware of his flaws, very aware. More than once he has thought that he isn't deserving of your feelings or the things you do for him.

(you are one of the few people in this cold world who gets the rare Mordecai Approving Smile, but don't say anything! just enjoy! It'll be gone as quick as it came)

The sort of things you do that give him butterflies are as follows: Taking his glasses off the desk, cleaning them and putting them back beside him. Getting into a debate or a discussion-that-turns-into-a-debate, you two getting more and more heated until your faces are two inches apart and you're shoulder-to-shoulder because you're both so invested in the topic. When you're both in close quarters, and your tail or ears accidentally brush against his. When you gesture at something symmetrical with a little smirk on your face. When you bring him warm food while he's working at his desk, something filling and just the right temperature. When you both enter a suspicious place, guns drawn, and you go ahead but glance back with an expression that says with absolute certainty, I trust you.

If you're in physical distress or danger, Mordecai can fix that. He can jump to action and shoot and kill whatever is doing this, and he's confident in that. If it's something emotional, that's the rub, isn't it? He can linger close, he can bring you blankets and food, he can keep others from bothering you, but what else can he do? What can he say? He wasn't good at these kinds of words.

It's these times when he'll touch you first. It'll be a hand on your back after sitting next to you for a long time, listening to you talk about what upset you. If you're in danger, he'll yank you by the arm to safety. He'll sigh, take your hands and show you how to properly hold your gun because why do you keep doing it that way you're going to give him grey hairs this is the best way to handle the recoilsdjsjfjd--

It's not his choice of expressing affection, that's for sure, but that's okay. More often, he finds himself drawn to things that both interest you and could be useful to you. He'll stop by your place with ingredients for a dish you love, he'll "come across" a new coat in your size because your old one got bullet holes. You'll find your guns cleaned and your ammo replenished, you'll notice your apartment has been tidied and dusted. He really appreciates it when you keep your space clean, or at least temporarily for his sake. The first time he was in your apartment for dinner, a spider crawled on him and he FLIPPED. A chair may have been broken. You just took it outside in a cup and continued on like nothing weird happened, even when he insisted on washing the cup like four times.

Also, sometimes Mordecai will associate things so strongly with you that he can't separate them in his mind - a scent, a specific color, a flower, a book, and so on. He might find something that's one or more of those things and keep it with him. Because. Just because. No other reason.

And again! It's so difficult for him to just say and express his feelings for you. It's more likely the two of you will just fall into a sort of odd are-they-or-aren't-they unspoken "understanding", especially if you don't express your feelings and just wait on him. You'll have to make the first step in that direction. Someone would have to torture him to get any serious information about you, especially his feelings. If someone untrustworthy comes asking about you and him, someone prying for a weakness - it's easy for Mordecai to brush off. He can act aloof, or better, callous. He'll say it right in front of you, if that's what keeps you safe. He'll say you're nothing to protect you.

For once, the words come easily, but it's the action he can't do.

It's agonizing the whole time he does it, like dying over and over. Getting beaten and shot was easier than this. Mordecai wants to see you as soon as it's over, even if he has no idea what to say anymore... If you even to see him again. Perhaps he should've expected this is how things would end. You knew what this kind of life would lead to, didn't you? He did. He thought he did.

#This was so enjoyable thank u anon #im so sorry for the ending sdJFDSJFS #i hope i captured him well bc hes such a very very interesting character!#mordecai heller x reader #lackadaisy x reader

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film-in-my-soul · 9 months

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Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

#dreamling #dream/hob #dreamling reclist #reclist #fanfic reclist #the sandman reclist

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sasster · 4 months

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Respite

Uhm, I’m gonna post some not fantroll writing here okay? Because Kurt told me to. Okay. Thank you for understanding, I hope you like it :) [doc] — After the liberation of the people of Aeilur, Qei’eleritte was delighted to find that they were still interested in a diplomatic relationship with the Cardali. Though the threat of war with the peaceful giants was always nonexistent, he’d been worried that they would be uninterested in allowing the mingling of their worlds after the conflict. And that would mean there would be no opportunity to explore their planet after all was said and done.

But that isn’t the case, thank the Gods of both Aeilur and Cardalith. He makes a mental note to learn more about the former’s theology and creation myths later. For now he sits, just as he promised himself in the heat of battle, at the base of something that might be a tree but he doesn’t know enough about to make a judgment on. It juts out of the ground, swaths of fur growing up and down its length, like a giant fuzzy limb that curls as though reaching for the orange alien sky.

A pleasant aroma wafts off of it, one that he thinks smells somewhere between an orange blossom and a rose bush. The curious plant has become his favorite of what little he’s seen of Aeilur in his first visit. He will ask someone for its name.

Qei sits there, not in the green star pattern of his natural form, but shapeshifted into the form of one of the pacifists that call Aeilur home. They resemble bipedal pachyderms and this form of his, though unique to him, was no different. The most uncomfortable part of the transition was the second pair of arms that burst forth from beneath his shoulder blades. He stares at this new pair of hands, covered in a thick brown coat like that of a wooly mammoth, and expels a breath out of his new trunk-like proboscis.

This action results in a good natured trumpeting, something that he recognizes as a satisfied hum in his natural form. The sudden attention to his trunk reminds him of the pair of sisters he saw wrestling earlier in the day, their trunks undulating between them in a taunt when they weren’t grappling.

He tries to mimic the action with little success. The taunting must be more subconscious, then. Or perhaps only some are capable of doing it on command.

As he stares at his new pair of hands, he presses the other pair into the soft fur of the tree behind him. It gives little yield and his hands fully sink in. The furs bristle into little pricks, but not painful ones, before his hands find the spongy surface of the tree. This interaction causes the flowery aroma to become stronger. He closes his eyes and leans his back into the tree, and sighs out another good natured trumpet.

It never ceases to amaze him, getting to experience a new world through the eyes of a people that were built for it.

Just in front of him movement causes his eyes to snap open. The line of trees, similar in size and fragrance to the one he has his hands pressed into, rustles gently and part to make way for an elder Person of Aeilur that, if he stood fully, stands a head taller than him as he is. She would be much taller if he were to assume his natural form. She is clearly older by the way the tip of her trunk curls back in toward her body, opposed to the loose display typically sported by the younger members of the populace. It is a much tighter, almost arthritic hold that curves her trunk.

The other tell is the way her thick sea of tan fur is interrupted by flashes of silver and white streaks, primarily along her arms and across her head. From her head sprouts, uncharacteristic for these gentle giants, twin braids that swirl a good deal of of her longer graying furs down the left side of her face, past the round lobe of her ear and drawing attention to the string along her neck that holds four small tusks close to her chest. The longest of which with a point that stops right where her first set of arms begin. He figures these are from children or grandchildren.

She stops when she sees him, clearly having not expected to find a stranger in this clearing, and he makes quick work of getting to his feet. Then he lowers his head to her with one of the hands from his lower set extended to her, palm up. A show of respect he both read about and saw with his own eyes when the sisters he watched play were wrangled in by an older male.

This elder female closes the distance between them and unfurls her trunk to tap his palm gently, signifying her acceptance of the gesture. When she takes a seat beside him, he pauses before joining her.

“[I must be honest with you],” he starts in her language, but she cuts him off with a quick trumpetting before her trunk recurls.

“I know you are a visitor,” she says in galactic standard, much to his surprise, that does not fit properly in her mouth. “You can stay as you are.”

Qei nods and sits, once again allowing his hands to press into the trunk of the tree.

A sound like a hum vibrates her trunk.

“You like the jam tree?” She asks, reaching a hand to pet the tree's furs.

“Jam tree?”

“That is how visitors call it. It is good for making jellies,” her amused trumpeting does not end, further mangling the standard that does not fit around her tusks. “Here we call it Ahmhavar.”

“Ahmhavar,” he echoes the localization of what could be translated as ‘perfume tree’. “I can speak the Language of Aeilur. If you wish.”

“I can use the practice in standard.”

“Very well, I am Qei’eleritte,” he offers, butchering his own name in the process. The language of his people fits as well in his mouth as the galactic standard does.

“That may be too much for me,” she laughs and it is influenced by the pitch of her trumpetting. “Will you accept the playname of Ahmhatet? Unless you have already been named by one of mine.”

“Perfumed visitor?” He muses.

“You cannot deny its accuracy.”

He laughs too, soft and low in comparison to hers. “I accept Ahmhatet as my play name.”

“Good, my home name is Gihaiya,” and he thinks it is very special that she would share her family name with him, indicated by an inquisitive head tilt and trumpeting on his part. She waves the unspoken question away and continues, “But my play name is Eyha.”

“A pleasure, Eyha.”

Eyha nods her head in acknowledgement, but turns her attention back to the direction she came from. “Were you with the visitors that helped my people?”

Qei grips the tree behind him a little more firmly than anticipated and feels the fur on his hands mat with from the stick sap that is urged from the spongy base. The smell of rose and orange blossom intensifies significantly, which is not unwelcomed. He’d almost allowed himself to forget the disgrace to Cardalith that Falarittus and their scheme to take over Aeilur were.

He sighs and his proboscis produces a sound similar to a deflating balloon.

“I was there, yes. I ended his cruel game myself.”

“In that case, maybe you need a hero’s name, too.”

“I was only cleaning up a mess I let happen. Someone like that should never have been made to look after any lands. Much less did they deserve a paradise like Aeilur.”

She trumpets again, this time a chastising sound, and he lowers his head. “No. It matters that you helped make it right. The mehi does not fly from its nest before it is ready.”

“Yes, of course.” He acquises while also making a mental note to find a resource that will tell him more about the avian species, of which Aeilur houses many, she referenced.

A moment of peace lingers between them and before they can continue their conversation, something that sounds like a small stampede comes rushing in from the direction that Eyha faced. Qei guesses that it must be some smaller Aeilurians scampering towards them and then steps from someone much larger lagging behind.

Three children of Aeilur pop into the clearing, two younger ones chasing after the larger one, and each letting out delighted high pitched squeals when they spot Eyha.The two smaller ones had similar tan coats to Eyha, the older one’s coat was closer to black.

They waste no time piling into her lap.

“[Now, now, little ones. Did you leave dad behind?]” She chides, lifting each one of the calfs to press her forehead to theirs one after the other and setting them on their feet again.

“[He moves too slow!]” The largest of the three protests and the other laugh along with her.

“[Of course. This is my new friend,]” she gestures to Qei. “[He is a visitor.]”

The two small ones suddenly develop a touch of shyness, as though prior to this they simply did not register that a stranger was present. The oldest one moves in close and raises her trunk to him.

“[I am Hajiya! That is my play name. Do you play?]”

“[I do play, Hajiya,]” he replies, lifting his trunk in greeting as well.

“[What do they call you when you play?]”

“Ahmhatet.”

“[Because you smell good?]” And she follows up with a laugh, something akin to a giggle snort. “[Will you play with me, Ahmhatet?]”

Qei looks to Eyha who nods her encouragement. “[You will have to teach me your games.]”

“[We will! Come out here Heiha and Hafrahe. Lets teach the Visitor Ahmhatet how to play!]”

The smaller two run out again and rush Hajiya, causing the trio to tumble over into the grass where they begin a playful wrestle, Heiha and Hafrahe clearly having forgotten their shyness in the meantime.

After a short while of watching them tumble around, Qei offers a feeble, “[I may not be able to keep up with that energy,]” that Eryha laughs at and the children seem to ignore, having moved on to what appears to be a game of tag that sends the trio zigzagging about the clearing.

“You never want to tell a calf, much less a group of them, that they have too much life to keep up with,” a new voice offers in standard from the direction the rest of the family entered from. “They will use the information against you.”

This newcomer’s coat is darker in color, closer to the shade of Hajiya’s coat, and much shorter to the point that some of the pinkish skin beneath can be seen from certain angles when the wind blows it. If Qei has to guess, he would say that he and the man are around the same height and age group.

He sits directly near Eryha. “Or do you not spend much time with children, Ahmhatet?”

Qei takes a moment to think about this, coming to the conclusion that no he does not get to see many children in his line of work, but before he can gets a chance to voice that observation, he is rushed by the small gaggle of calfs, who elect to climb all over him as their first order of business.

#coko writes sometimes #long post #qei #uhmmm #yeah!#<3 #thank u for reading if you do……#i’d appreciate thoughts…. BUT NO.. PRESSURE!!!!#hehe i just ahd fun writing it

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libraryledge · 4 months

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A Part of My Story (A Reimagined Tale Set in the World of Wonka) Chapter 4

I stood at the center of the Galleries Gourmet and observed the scene unfolding before me. In fact, I wasn’t the only one who had taken an interest in the spectacle. A crowd had formed in the shopping square, eagerly watching as the show began. The performance in question: Willy Wonka balancing on an apple box while waving a blue flag.

Like with most things that Willy did, I wasn’t sure what to expect. However, in the short time of knowing him, I learned to trust the process as he always had something magical to both metaphorically and literally pull out of his top hat. The crowd, I noticed, was bubbling with excitement, which peaked my curiosity in what I was about to experience.

Willy stopped waving the flag and stomped down loudly on the apple box to get the crowd’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Galley Gourmet. My name is Willy Wonka! I have an incredible feat to share with you all today. So quiet up and listen down.” He paused for a moment and chuckled, realizing he said it backwards. “Nope! Scratch that. Reverse it. I present to you, the Hoverchoc”

Willy took off his hat to reveal a jar of blue, yellow, and green chocolates. He unscrewed the lid of the jar, and the treats went floating over the heads of the audience, much like the manner that ones he’d shown me earlier had done to me. The audience gasped and applauded at the mesmerizing display of showmanship.

“Go ahead. Try one, and take your dreams to new heights,” Willy proclaimed.

I watched as an elderly woman next to me took a bite of one of the Hoverchocs. Much to my amazement, she began to float in the air. The crowd gasped and then, collectively held its breath in anticipation of what would happen next. The woman let out a hearty laugh, and she floated gracefully above the townspeople. Then, she began to do somersaults and flashy tricks, while maintaining the biggest smile on her face.

“Oh! I haven’t felt this young in so many years!” she exclaimed.

“Glorious! My chocolate will make you feel like a kid again!” Willy replied, beaming. “Alright. Who’s next?” he asked, to which the crowd responded with fervent cheers.

As I watched the men, women, and children line up for a chance to try a Hoverchoc, I spotted a man in a plaid yellow suit, round dark rimmed glasses, and a crooked toupée staring down at the scene from the window of the chocolate shop named Prodnose. In fact, the stores labeled Fickelgruber and Slugworth each had a sullen figure watching the action as well. I knew that Willy was aware of their presence, and I really commended his ability to ignore those who doubted him and continue with his act.

Amidst the hullabaloo, Willy made eye contact with me. I gave him an encouraging thumbs up. He tipped his hat off to me playfully as a sign of gratitude. That’s what I was starting to appreciate about Willy. He didn’t seek external validation for his endeavors, but welcomed it with open arms because he understood the value of his work.

We spent the rest of the day in town spreading the word on Wonka chocolate. Whether it was little children or grown adults, one thing was for sure, they loved their sweets. It was something that bonded everyone, as they took delight in Willy’s confectionery delights.

Once the sun began to set, we headed back to Scubbit and Bleacher’s before the chilly night weather kicked in. As we walked along the rickety path back to the washroom, I heard the silver sovereigns that Willy earned through his chocolate business jingling in his coat pocket.

“How much did you earn today?” I asked him, curious to know the outcome of the day’s work.

“I’ve got twelve silver sovereigns in my pocket,” he replied, smiling proudly at me. “But what they don't mention is how stressful it is just to make a dozen silver sovereigns last more than a day.”

I chuckled. “Tell me about it. I need to find a way to make money, so I can afford to eat something other than slop for dinner.” I said, picturing the unappetizing bowl of gray slush, that Mrs. Scubbit informed me yesterday she would be providing “out of the kindness of her heart”.

Willy took one of the sovereigns out of his pocket and tossed it my way. I caught it and gave him a questioning look.

“Keep it.” he said to me, sincerely.

“Oh no. You worked hard to earn it. I can’t take this.” I replied, shaking my head.

“Nonsense! You were a big help today. Consider this an advance on that bargain we made yesterday. You’re still planning to teach me to read aren’t you?” he asked with a wink.

I nodded and responded, “Of course! Thank you.”

“As for dinner, why don’t we skip straight to dessert? You haven’t had a chance to try my chocolate yet. There’s a new recipe I want to show you, if you’re up for the challenge," Willy said with an eager look.

Once we managed to sneak back into Scubbit and Bleacher’s, Willy and I tiptoed up the stairs into our room. We’ve only been inside for about a minute when there was a knock on the open door. Noodle was standing in the door frame with a small canister in her hand

“Room service,” she said with a small smile. I waved at her, and Willy rubbed his hands together in glee.

“Noodle! You’re just in time to be one of the very first people to try my latest creation,” Willy said as he ushered her inside, looked down the corridor to make sure no one followed her, and closed the door.

“I’m guessing you had a good day in town today?” Noodle asked, noting the excitement in Willy’s voice. Although to be fair, he usually was in high spirits.

“Better than ok! We earned twelve silver sovereigns from selling my Hoverchocs!” he replied, joyfully. I noted how he said we earned as opposed to I earned and couldn’t help smiling to myself.

“Glad to hear it,” Noodle replied. I noticed the tiredness in her voice, so I figured I’d ask her about her day.

“Have you had a long day at the wash house?” I asked her sympathetically.

“Actually, that's the one place that Scrubbit warned me to avoid, since talking to other people would be a distraction from my chores," she said, creating air quotes with her fingers. "Instead, I spend my days doing every other task she needs done from delivering the laundry to mending Bleacher’s old socks,” Noodle said with a grimace.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry Noodle.” I replied, feeling terrible for the girl’s circumstances.

Noodle nodded at me gratefully. “Actually, I did hear that you made the other tennant’s day a lot better with that wacky contraption of yours, Willy.”

Willy’s eyes widened with delight as he said, “Did Tiddles have fun today?”

“Well, he certainly wasn’t sniffing around in my business, and he sure worked up an appetite, so I’d say so,” Noodle replied with a chuckle.

“Splendid! I knew that a puppy powered washer was a great idea! Speaking of great ideas…” he began. Willy pulled out a small suitcase, and removed the lock. I expected him to pull out clothing from inside, but instead was astonished to see the case slowly expand to reveal a work station filled with bottles of colorful concoctions, jars of quirky ingredients, and oddly shaped tools.

“Everything I’ll ever need is found inside of my travel factory,” Willy announced proudly. He pumped a strong smelling liquid onto his hands in order to sanitize them. Then, he picked up several bottles, added their contents into a small bowl, and mixed them together. He placed the mixture through a spiral pipe and pushed down on a small lever. Finally, just like magic, a small cloud shaped treat landed on the bowl in front of him.

“I call this a Silver Lining! Feeling down or need a pick me up? Eat one of these to feel enlightened!” Willy announced. He gently took my hand and placed one of the sweets onto my palm. Then, he skipped over to Noodle and gave one to her as well.

Still in awe from the magical trick I’d just witnessed, I took a bite of the Silver Lining. My tongue immediately felt a fizzy sensation, and then, a delicious combination of cinnamon and hazelnut filled my mouth. My brain was buzzing with excitement, as if I’d been struck by a bolt of energy. Any of the uncertainty and disappointment that I’d experienced this morning was gone and replaced by inspiration and gladness.

I turned and saw Willy resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin on his hand with anticipation.

“Your honest review madam,” Willy said, smiling at me expectantly.

“Huh.” I said, trying to describe the sudden rush that I felt from the chocolate.

“Huh is a good sign indeed.” Willy replied eagerly.

I chuckled. “I’m just trying to find the words. Suddenly, I feel inspired and have so many ideas racing through my mind. It feels….” I trailed off, trying to describe the sensation to him.

“Hopeful,” supplied Noodle, with a big grin on her face. “It makes me feel that things are going to be ok, no matter how complicated they are right now.”

Willy looked as he was about to explode of jubilation. “Oh Noodle! Yes! That is exactly what I want this treat to do. It’s supposed to show you a faint ray of hope beyond despair.”

He began to skip around the room as he exclaimed “Inspiration! Motivation!”

Noodle giggled. “You’re Silly Willy.” It was wonderful to see her in good spirits.

Willy rumpled her hair. “It’s true-dle, Noodle, but it makes me ecstatic to hear that my invention worked!”

“It really is quite amazing," I chimed in. “How do you make them?”

Willy smiled. “They’re made of condensed thunderclouds and liquid sunlight,” he replied simply, as if they were things that could be found at the local shop.

“How exactly did you get those ingredients?” I asked, curious to know how he managed to get such unusual items into his creations.

“I just follow the weather patterns.'' he said matter of factly. “Gloomy weather is great for capturing clouds, and good weather is just right for bottling sunlight. For instance, tonight is perfect for gathering new ingredients because a hard rain’s gonna fall,” he said in a sing-song voice as he winked at me. I giggled because it still didn’t explain how he got the ingredients.

“Well. The treat is certainly doing its job because I am suddenly filled with inspiration.” I said.

“So does this mean you now have the motivation to write some more?” Willy asked innocently, but I could sense his eager undertone. “Last night was so fun!” he said with a dreamy look on his face.

Noodle gave me a confused look as he said that. I blushed and quickly replied, “He’s talking about how I read him part of the story that I’m writing, before we went to sleep.”

“Oh!” she said with a chuckle.

“It was amazing Noodle! There’s this little boy named Charlie in the story, and he’s just like you. He doesn’t have a lot in life, but is the sweetest kid around.”

“Sounds awesome. I love to read, and I spend way too much time at the library.” Noodle said, chuckling sheepishly.

“I think people don’t spend enough time at the library.” I told her reassuringly.

Suddenly a nasally voice came ringing from downstairs. “NOODLE! WHERE ARE YOU?!!!” The sound unpleasantly vibrated through the walls, making the young girl cringe.

“Ugh! Scrubbit’s looking for me!” Noodle said, rolling her eyes “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the chocolate Willy. It’s your greatest yet!”

“Thank you! Next time you can try my macaroons!” Willy said with a grin on his face.

“Your what?” Noodle asked in amusement.

“Macaroons. They’re a French delicacy, and mine work wonders in boosting confidence,” Willy said. “I just need to collect some more of the main ingredient.”

“What is it?” Noodle asked curiously.

“Giraffe milk.” Willy said nonchalantly.

“What? How are you going to…? Actually, never mind,” Noodle said, trying to hide a smile. She turned to head out the door, but Willy beat her to it and enveloped her in a bear hug. I watched as she sank affectionately into his embrace.

“Don’t let them get you down, Noodle.” Willy said sincerely to her. Noodle smiled and waved at us as she headed out the door.

“I can’t wait to hear your story. I’m sure it’s wonderful,” she said to me.

I smiled. “Thank you. Good luck,” I said as she headed down to Mrs. Scrubbit, who was obnoxiously calling out to her once more.

When Noodle was out of the room, I turned and looked at Willy in amusement as I said, “Giraffe milk macaroons? Do I want to know how you plan to get your main ingredient?”

“To be honest, I don’t know how I plan to get giraffe milk in England. It was much easier to do on my trip to Africa. By my understanding, giraffes don’t roam the streets of London,” Willy replied.

“Huh.” I said as I suddenly recalled a sign I’d seen while we were in town.

“What is it?” Willy asked curiously.

“I’m not sure,” I started to say, and then it hit me. “Huh!” I exclaimed, feeling all the fog from my brain dissipate as an idea came clearly into view.

“A double-huh!” Willy said as his eyes widened in anticipation. “You’re experiencing the full effect of the Silver Lining! What are you thinking?”

“Well, there’s a zoo around here right?” I asked him, and he nodded gleefully. “I saw a sign in town saying that they have a new giraffe named Abigail. We could start there, but I just don’t know how we are going to convince her to give you some milk.”

“That’s a marvelous idea! Leave the convincing up to me,” Willy replied. I could see the gears shifting in his mind. He didn’t need a Silver Lining to come up with the most unexpected plans. Willy studied me and then asked, “Are you free tomorrow night?”

I chuckled to myself. Men had asked me that question a few times in my life, but it never involved plans to milk a giraffe. "That depends. Will I be able to try more of the Silver Linings?”

“Oh! You can have more than that! I promised you a lifetime supply of chocolate, remember?” Willy said eagerly. “Something tells me that you and I will make great partners in crime, which will come in handy when avoiding the Chief of Police. He doesn’t really like me either!”

I laughed. “Why?”

“The Chocolate Cartel instructed him to be on my trail. I guess I’ve developed a reputation for myself,” he said shrugging playfully. “Anyway, can you read to me again tonight?”

“Of course. Actually, there are a few ideas that I’d like to add into the story first if you don’t mind.” I replied.

Willy clapped his hands excitedly and pumped his fist in the air, like an excited child.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, scurrying off to clean up his chocolate making station and get ready for bed

I sat by the window, with the moonlight illuminating my notepad and jotted down my new ideas. They were swirling in my mind, and I felt enlightened in a way that I hadn’t in a long time. Part of me figured it was the result the Silver Lining, but at the same time, it felt like it came from another source. I had only been in London for a few days. I left my family behind, was staying in the most downtrodden wash house, and had my proposal rejected by a publishing company. This was all a recipe for gloom and despair, and yet I was feeling alright. It was as if something or someone was shining a beacon of light upon me, encouraging me to find my way. Amidst the unpredictability of the entire situation, I knew that I would. I picked up my pen and began to write.

#timothée chalamet #fanfic #wonka #chocolate #calah lane #writing #wonka 2023 #fanfiction #willy wonka #timothee chalamet #timmy chalamet #wonka movie #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #charlie and the chocolate factory #noodle wonka #roald dahl #sweets #reimagining #humor

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wolflover2426 · 1 year

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To Cause Some Chaos, As A Treat

AN: Just wanted to write something silly and based on one of my prompts that I made a while ago, here’s the post

Shadybug groaned, kicking her feet as she sat atop a rooftop. It was nighttime so she was able to blend in for the most part. Hawk Moth was getting annoying and she wanted to let out some steam after the last battle by taking a stroll. A thump interrupted her from her thoughts.

She didn’t turn around, “You aren't as sneaky as you think you are, kitty.”

Claw Noir merely sneered as Shadybug playfully turned her head to give him a playful wink. He said nothing as he sat next to her. Shadybug merely pouted, her partner is probably in one of his ‘moods’ and by moods she meant, brooding.

She knew his powers were quite dangerous and always wondered what it would be like. An idea popped in her head as she smirked, leaning close towards him. His expression was shocked over the proximity but she could hear a faint hiss escaping his lips.

“Hey kitty, I have an idea!”

He motioned for her to continue, he had an odd look in his eyes which were mixed between intrigue and resignation.

“Wanna swap miraculous?” Shadybug grinned. “It would be an interesting practice.”

Claw Noir protectively wrapped a hand around his other where his ring sat. Despite the glare in his eyes, she could tell he was interested due to the fact his cat ears were pointed forward.

The duo moved in tandem by hiding behind a wall and detransforming. The exchange of miraculous went without a hitch.

Marinette grinned as she muttered, “Claws out!” And green light engulfed her and she looked down at her new costume. Her boots had spikes and were lined horizontally with a metal coat on the toe box to resemble a cat’s paw. She noticed that she now has a belt lined with tiny spikes hanging loosely around her waist and seems to sway with each movement she makes. She now wears a leather jacket and had two pockets with zippers, the sleeves had a ripped-like aesthetic which definitely made her feel quite like a punk.

“Hmm, not bad.” She smirked as she curled her fingers to see the razor sharp claws. “Guess that makes me Cruella Noire.”

Then, her partner emerges through the shadow. It was interesting to see him in her colors and see the way it fitted through his figure. He had pads around the shoulder, his hair had traces of red and was a bit more tame than usual, he had collar but mixed with spikes are flat circles that resemble ladybugs but the colors were inverted.

Cruella Noire merely send him a smirk, “Well, I think you should keep the look.”

He said nothing and his arms were crossed. Aaw, was he pouting? She couldn’t help but stifle her giggle at seeing him look like he’s a kid waiting for his mother to finish talking to her friend.

“Never knew you could act like a little child!” Cruella teased. “I think I’ll name you, Scarab!”

Scarab merely shrugged in response. He seemed unbothered but Cruella Noire could see the sparkle of interest in his eyes.

Cruella Noire was struck with an idea as she grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Hey Scarab! Wanna see something cool?”

Scarab tilted his head to the side and motioned for her to continue.

“This! Cataclysm!” She felt the dark energy pulsing at her fingertips as she slammed her hand into a nearby network pole and watched in awe as it crumbled to dust.

Cruella Noire smirked, looking over Paris and seeing the twinkling lights coming from buildings and poles and finally, the Eiffel Tower practically covered with lights. With that, she jumped into action and began destroying everything that seemed fun to destroy and causing screams of terror from Parisians that tried to flee from the crazy destructive cat villain.

Scarab watched the chaos unfold from the rooftop while drinking milk from his thermos.

#miraculous ladybug #shadybug and claw noir #ml paris special #kwami swap #ml crack #ml fic #mlb fic #ml fanfic #mlb fanfic #please don’t make fun of me for the name I gave to Cat Shadybug #I was watching the latest Cruella movie and remembered a post #of Claw Noir calling Shadybug Ma Cruella

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allfandomstan · 2 years

Text

After Dark~(Batman x Vigilante Reader), Chapter 1.

Read Chapter 2! found on my ‘posts’.

Genre: action, mystery, crime, Noir..

Setting: Gotham City from ‘The Batman’ 2022.

Warnings: swearing, mention of violence, dark themes, mutual ‘tension’😉.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author Notes: Hi, this is my first time writing a fanfic (hope its not too bad!) and this is certainly my first Dcu fanfic. Most characters are adapted from ‘The Batman’ and character credits goes to Matt Reeves, the director. I’m hoping to make this an ongoing series, depending on the feedback I receive and motivation I get to write😫. Anyways, the reader is a newbie vigilante in Gotham(you'll know more about her in later chapters) and she's doing her own little ivestigative work when she crosses paths with Batman...

pls, tell me what you guys think (constructive criticism is always welcome) and hope you enjoy!

P.S there ought to be a lot of ‘tension’ between reader and Vengeance.😏😏

Fuck.

You witness the Mayor getting hammered by some fucked-in-the-head maniac, wearing a dull green trench coat and a leather- green face cover. He had a large, white question mark painted on the side of his coat.

‘What the hell could that mean?’

You blinked twice as you took in the sight of the man taping the Mayor’s head in Duck-tape and writing something on it.

With his own blood.

“Sick Bastard”, you murmured to yourself as you focused the binoculars even more to read what he wrote on the Mayor’s taped up face.

You couldn’t see it.

You had to get a better view, but you couldn’t go down now. If anyone caught you, you’d be a prime suspect in the upcoming murder case. And that would only consist of them digging further into your background which you figured wouldn’t go down too well for you.

You had to wait it out. And wait for the sick Fucker to leave, or you could end up like the unfortunate Mayor.

****

An hour passed and you soon saw the outside of the Mayor’s house crowding up with Police Officers, detectives and the forensic crew. Shit, you even saw Jim Gordon.

And seeing Gordon meant that ‘he’ could be nearby.

Hurriedly and by instinct,you looked up at the sky.

And there is was.

The notorious ‘Bat signal’ was lit.

It was the only thing that had been scaring the living shit out of the crime underworld of Gotham for the last two years. Well, it’s safe to say that Gotham itself is a crime underworld. Corruption, brutality and lies everywhere. Gotham wasn’t a compassionate city, nor was it a hopeful one..

Upon the realisation of the signal up in the sky, you immediately rose to your feet, taking your backpack and binoculars. You had to get out of the roof soon enough or Vengeance just might interfere. He’s always seen on high ground, right? On roofs and shit like that.

He stalks the city from above, and you were too vulnerable.. You had to get down, and now.

You raced to the door leading you to the stairs of the abandoned building which will take you down to the street.

You were breathless by the end of your journey down the damn stairs, and you had to convince yourself to get out of there fast. You crossed the street and went to the back of the Mayor’s house to catch a glimpse of what was going on, but you had to stay far away to keep a safe distance between you and the house. It felt like a fucking ridiculous plan but all you could find was a bush.

Great.

Making use of what you had, you crouched down behind it. Nevertheless, the spot you were in allowed you a great vantage point to the window of the Mayor’s TV room; the place he was murdered.

So, you held up your binoculars and watched.

Closely.

Trying to find clues or vital information about who the fuck the crazy maniac who did this was.

You made sure to stay low, watching the officers and crew scrambling around, clicking pictures and searching the furniture for hand prints. Minutes passed by and nothing out of the blue happened. Until…

You could faintly hear shouting and sensed the tension rise. You saw people running around, shuffling and shouting to one another.

And then..

You saw him.

Everyone seems to have froze, as The Batman walked in. Slow and steady in his movements, but no less fucking intimidating. You froze as well, a chill running down your spine.

This was going to be, interesting…

Hell yeah, fucking interesting..

You were extra cautious now that he was here. If he caught you, you were beyond fucked. Not that you were involved in the case in any shape or form right?..Or were you?

You just came here to spy on the Mayor, nothing evil at all!

And he ended up dead.

But Mr.Batman here wouldn’t understand that, now would he?

You crouched down even more from the position you were in and watched closely. You saw Jim Gordon trying to get Batman’s attention but his gaze was glued to the Mayor. Or to say, his corpse.

Suddenly the light lamp opposite you in the Mayor’s compound lit up, and it shone to the glass of your binoculars.

Shit.

The shine immediately reflected of the glass and onto the Mayor’s window…

The TV room window.

You didn’t notice it at first, but then you realised. And it was too late.

Vengeance took note of the shine and walked towards it, eyes desperately searching for the source. And then he took note of you, crouching down behind the bushes, with binoculars in hand.

You locked eyes with him..

Shit, shit, shit.

Immediate flight instinct.

You jumped out of your position and start running. Running away from the compound. A bit like a caught-in-the-act criminal, who knows he’s fucked it. A bit too much alike.

You run as fast as you could, not knowing where to go but still running as far away as you could from the Mayor’s house.

‘Could he be after you right now?’

You didn’t want to know.

Or you didn’t dare to look back and find out. You had no time anyway. You took a sharp left and ventured into a dark alleyway. You stopped running, trying to catch your breath but not getting enough oxygen.

Fuck, you ran like a bitch.

You haven’t ran as fast as that in your life..

You turned around to see if there was anyone behind you.

There was no one.

He probably thought you were a random curious reporter.

‘He probably let it slide, right?’

You frantically look all around you, eyeing your surroundings to make sure you aren’t being stalked or followed.

You look around yourself, but you don’t look up.. At the roof.

Suddenly, as if it were a gust of wind, a black figure jumped down from the roof. Before you had time to run or even react, he took hold of your arm, swinging you around and smashing you into the brick wall. You winced in pain, as it all happened so quick like the speed of light.

The tall, dark figure closed the gap between the two of you and held you further against the wall, his tall form hovering over you.

His hand went up to the bandana scarf that was half covering your face.

Oh no.

Oh hell no.

Quickly with your free arm, you hit his intruding hand away. He growled in annoyance, and took hold of your free hand in his other one.

“The fuck do you want?”, you shouted in utter hostility.

“To see your face”, He replied in a low growl, still resisting your restless form trying to break free from his firm hold.

“Yeah, right! Like you’ll even come close-“

With a swift move of hand, he snatched the scarf right off your face..

For the first time in your life you felt naked. Truly exposed. For what you are and what you’ve done.

You were about to shout, when you felt his large hand cover your mouth shut.

Something was wrong.. You realised weren’t alone.

You suddenly heard the loud banter of very obviously ‘drunk’ men walking by the alleyway. There was a club nearby, which explains it.

Vengeance made sure you stayed quite until they were gone, and then he released his hand from your mouth.

But this time you didn’t say anything. You just stared.

Into his eyes.

His gaze was intense, fixed on your face like he was trying to read you like an open book.

You wouldn’t let him get to you that easily, would you?

To his scrutiny you looked down.

But soon enough he placed his fingers under your chin harshly and tilted your head up forcing you to look at him.

“Look at me” he said sternly with a dark tone. You had no choice but to comply.

“Why were you there?”

“Why the hell does it matter to you?”

He pushed you further into the wall, reaching to a point where you found it difficult to breath.

“Tell me”.

You struggled against his form, wriggling under him and trying to find a way to break free.

You knew your own share of martial arts and things but he put you in quite the sticky situation here. Well, the man was pretty heavy.

Wheezing you say:

“I would tell you if you weren’t smouldering me to death!”.

You stopped fighting and let him think about the offer.

He backed away.

Now you felt like you were finally able to breath properly again.

“Now, tell me” he growled, maintaining an alert posture incase you tried to run.

“Alright, alright won’t you give a lady her space?”

He didn’t respond, instead just stared at you ominously, his steely gaze fixed on you. Damn it, you felt like prey being watched by its predator.

You knew he wanted answers and fast, so, you gave in. You decided to at least give him something to sooth his nerves, even though it wasn’t entirely the truth…

“Fine..I’m a GCN reporter and I was trying to get some scoop on the Mayor, since y’ know the election is near and he could be down to something that reporters like me just don’t wanna miss. But then…”

You trailed off, the memories of the murder flooding into your mind. He was listening, carefully.

Now you didn’t entirely give in.

You weren’t going to give him the entire details.

“Then what?”, he pushed.

You took a moment to inhale sharply. You then decided to give him a not-so-retarded answer that didn’t make your little lie so obvious.

“Then I got an important call from my friend, and I had to leave.. And when I came back to spy on Mitchell I saw that he was murdered and dead, sitting on the TV room chair with his face taped up.”

You prayed that it was a reasonable enough answer and that it would convince him to let you go.

But no..

“Bullshit” he murmured.

He took a step closer to you, a bit too close for comfort. He gazed down on you with utmost spite he could possibly muster.

“You saw who did it, didn’t you?”

You were offended. How dare he suspect you of lying?

“Listen Batboy, I don’t have a lot of time here and I don’t think you do too. So it’s better if you just let me go my way and do my thing, and you do yours. I didn’t kill anybody and didn’t do no wrong. I was just trying to do my fucking job here, and I think you should do yours-“

“Tell me the truth!” He growls, and places a hand on your throat. And holds on a little too tightly for your liking.

“OR WHAT?” You challenge, looking straight into his burning eyes.

“You’re not a reporter, nor did you leave when Mitchell was getting murdered. You stayed right there and watched it happen…You know saw killed him”.

You were astonished.

‘How the fuck was he able to read through you?’

Like a fucking open book.

There was no use in trying anymore. In trying to lie anymore. It would only make him suspect you even more.

‘Maybe there’s no use in lying?’

‘Maybe both of you can call it a truce?’

‘Maybe you and Vengeance can get along and come up with some, compromises?’… ‘And maybe even some ideas?’

All of it for the exchange of information and maybe even a little ‘cooperation’..

“And what if I did?” You ask with cockiness lacing your tone.

His eyes grew bigger, possibly by realising the possibility that you truly did see what happened.

He took another step closer and now your chest was flush against his abdomen.

“What are you gonna do, baby?.. Arrest me?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, tone laced with the same cockiness from before, but this time also teasing.

“Maybe..”

With his head bent towards you, ocean blue eyes searching for answers, he adds:

“Maybe I’ll let you go if..you cooperate”.

You look into his eyes and then your gaze wanders to his lips and to his sharp jawline. You scan his face, noticing the sharp-chiselled features.

Damn, the man certainly wasn’t ugly…

Snapping out of your little day dream, you think about his offer.

‘He’ll let you go if you cooperate?’

Well you didn’t really want him to let you go. Not that easily, anyway.

“Cooperate? Me and you?”, you ask trying your best to sound surprised.

But he saw through your facade and silence was all you received.

“That would be a little dangerous don’t ya think, Batman?”

“I don’t care”, he replied with a heavy tone.

“Well, you seem to like danger don’t you?”

You held up your hand to cup the side of his face when he suddenly caught you by the wrist to stop you.

There was silence…

Moments passed as he spoke up again.

“Who are you?” He asked, unable to hide the curiosity within.

You cocked your head to the side, arching an eyebrow with a mischievous smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh you’ll soon find out, sweetheart.”

Just as He was about to speak, the sound of police sirens and tires interrupted him.

“Looks like your friends are here. They’re probably looking for you”.

He turns his head to look onto the road.

You were about to yank your wrist out of his firm hold and run, but he tightens his grip even further.

“I’ll find you”, he says, blue eyes focusing in on yours.

“I bet you will”, you smile..

You quickly slip a small piece of paper into his utility belt.

You didn’t think he noticed, as he was so focused on your eyes.

“Maybe we can..cooperate?”

The sound of car doors closing and footsteps approaching snapped him out of his daze.

Using his lack of focus as the trump card, you quickly snatched your hand away and ran off further into the alleyway, turning a corner and disappearing out of sight.

‘Perfect’, you thought.

He didn’t chase after you.. After all he was going to find you.

Bruce was interrupted with the loud footsteps of Gordon and two other cops following behind him.

“Why the hell did you just run off like that, Man?”…

“Nothing. Just thought I saw somebody.”

“Oh and you sure did. Who were you talking to?”

Bruce lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“It was just a GCN reporter. She was just snooping around.”

“And you let her go!?”, Gordon asks frustrated.

“She’s of no use”, Bruce insists.

“Man, she could’ve been a witness!”, Gordon shouts, unable to hide his anger.

“She’s got nothing, believe me”.

The commissioner groans in annoyance and and brings his hand up to palm his face, shutting his eyes.

“I thought we agreed in deciding on things together”.

“We did”, Bruce responds almost instantly without hesitation. Gordon just stares at him in disbelief.

“So you let go of a possible witness without even confirming with me-“

He was cut off.

“I told you, she’s got nothing” Bruce interjects, passing the commissioner a glare.

He resigns, shooting his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, I believe you man but if I ever find out you’re lying to me, you and I are going to have to talk”.

And at this Bruce scoffs.

Gordon backs away with his officers onto the street, and passes Bruce one last look before saying:

“I’ll be in the car”..

When Bruce was finally left alone in the dark alleyway, he took out the note you had given him. After all, he did notice your little trick…

It was a small, white, crumbled piece of paper. It had some digits written on it.

Your number….

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drades-lair · 2 years

Text

After Work Special

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Rating: M for sexual content and swearing

Pairings: Blitzo x female! Kitsune! Reader

Blitz trudged through the door of his apartment shedding his coat followed by toeing off his boots with a heavy sigh. Pulling out his hell phone Blitz sent a text telling Moxxie and Millie that he wasn’t going to be in tomorrow after the shitty mission he’d just had it was worth a day off to recoup but as he was staring at the screen a pair of gentle hands wrapped lovingly around his waist. Craning his neck slightly to look up a little Blitz smiled at seeing his beautiful mate, a gorgeous white Kitsune with blue markings on her fur named (Y/N).

“Hmm, rough day,” (Y/N) inquired nuzzling against Blitz’s cheek

“Exhausting, I’m not going in tomorrow,” Blitz responded, turning around to face (Y/N).

“Oh, well…I hope you’re not too exhausted,” (Y/N)’s voice dropped a little to a seductive tone as she bit down on her lower lip, arms draped over Blitz’s shoulders.

“Hmm, I’m never too exhausted for you babe,” Blitz confessed as he placed his hands on (Y/N)’s hips.

“Good,” (Y/N) grinned before capturing Blitz’s lips in a kiss.

(Y/N) caressed her hands down over Blitz’s forearms coming around to massage up his chest while gingerly moving them towards the bedroom. Blitz brought his hands to knead at (Y/N)’s ass cheeks as his tongue pressed into her mouth, wrapping around hers. (Y/N)’s nimble fingers worked swiftly to undo the buttons on Blitz’s button-down, massaging up the newly exposed flesh of his chest and stomach before moving to his belt. (Y/N)’s six large tails came up to sway as her blueish marks began to glow as she easily undid Blitz’s belt, moving down to give a light squeeze to his half hard cock through his jeans eliciting a moan from her mate. The imp’s hands were snaking their way up (Y/N)’s shirt to cup her breasts gently fondling them in his palms as the backs of his legs bumped against their bed.

Blitz sat down on the edge of the bed causing (Y/N) to lean over him as the two crawled up onto the bed, (Y/N) breaking from their deep kiss just long enough to lean back on her haunches and pull off her navy green tank top. (Y/N) leaned over Blitz again to nip along his jawline, moving down his neck, a hand caressing down his right side over Blitz’s stomach to the front of his jeans, popping his button then unzipping the zipper.

“Roll over babe,” (Y/N) whispered into Blitz’s ear making him groan.

(Y/N) crawled off to allow Blitz to roll over, yanking off his pants and underwear before undoing and removing her navy green cargo style shorts. Blitz already had his front pressed to the mattress with his ass in the air by the time (Y/N) was finished and returning, humming in approval as Blitz smirked over his shoulder. (Y/N) grabbed at Blitz’s hips, giving a light swat to his right butt cheek but even that single action made Blitz keen, lightly biting his bottom lip as he arched into the mattress with his tail swishing from side to side in anticipation. Chuckling (Y/N) spread Blitz’s butt cheeks, pressing the pad of her one thumb against his hole while rubbing subtly in small circles making the imp keen further.

“My, my, so eager tonight,” (Y/N) crooned

“W-we…oh…haven’t…ah…done it…this way…in a while,” Blitz breathed out between moans

“I know, that’s why I figured I’d treat you,” (Y/N) agreed

(Y/N) started pressing the tip of her thumb into Blitz before pulling back out to continue rimming him causing Blitz to press backwards seeking more. (Y/N) released one of Blitz’s butt cheeks to snatch the base of his tail immediately stopping the imp’s movements along with a high-pitched whimpering moan.

“Have patience, darling,” (Y/N) scolded in a firm tone, leaning forwards to lick a strip up the underside of his tail eliciting a full body shiver from Blitz.

“S-Sorry,” Blitz stammered gingerly spreading his legs a little more

“Good boy,” (Y/N) praised in a low seductive tone

Caressing her hand up Blitz’s tail (Y/N) slid her thumb over his hole, down his sack right between his balls making sure to use the tip of her claw. Blitz bit hard on his lower lip while his claws dug into the sheets, eyes slightly rolling back in his head with pleasure. (Y/N) latched her mouth on the base of Blitz’s tail sucking liberally while her hands alternated between stroking the rest of his tail and lightly tapping his sack. Blitz started whimpering, face flushed bright red, eyes half lidded and tongue falling from his mouth combined with moans of pleasure. (Y/N) sucked down to Blitz’s hole, lathing her tongue over the ring of muscle before pressing the tip in.

Blitz let out a string of curses as his claws tore the fabric beneath him, (Y/N) sliding her fingers up the underside of his hard cock feeling the precum drooling down onto the sheets below him. Halting all contact (Y/N) pulled back instantly making Blitz wince with a hefty, dissatisfied groan causing the kitsune to chuckle as she reached into the side table pulling out two items, first was the lube bottle and the second was a vibrator. (Y/N) placed the vibrator on the bed then popped the lid on the lube bottle, drizzling some onto two of her fingers before closing the bottle to add it to the bed next to the vibrator. Gently she pressed a single finger into Blitz knowing they’d not done this in a little while she didn’t want to hurt him although honestly her finger slid in easily right up to the second knuckle. Pumping liberally (Y/N) drew those delicious sounds back out of Blitz only to make them louder as she added a second.

Once a third finger easily slid in (Y/N) pulled out once again making Blitz whimper disapprovingly as she reached for the vibrator and the lube. Drizzling the lube over the vibrator (Y/N) slicked it up then closed the lube bottle, setting it on the floor as she brought the vibe to Blitz’s stretched hole. Pressing into Blitz carefully (Y/N) watched his expressions to make sure he wasn’t feeling any pain or discomfort, luckily Blitz was clearly not feeling either as his face went completely laxed with a huge grin of satisfaction indicating it clearly felt amazing. A few moments later the vibe was to the hilt inside Blitz eliciting a moaning sigh from him at being filled as (Y/N) waited a few moments for him to adjust before switching it on. (Y/N) could easily see Blitz’s cock throbbing from this angle with basically one long string of precum drooling down to the sheets. Securing the vibe in Blitz’s ass (Y/N) walked around to crawl onto the bed right in front of Blitz’s flushed, sweat soaked face, settling on her haunches allowing Blitz the perfect view of her pussy.

Blitz needed no prompt or instructions on this one he moved forwards, hands coming to rest on (Y/N)’s thighs as his long, forked tongue swiped along her folds. (Y/N) gave an approving sigh as she brought a hand up to caress along the top of Blitz’s head over to the base of one of his horns. Encouraged Blitz started licking steadily along his mate’s folds slowly pressing between them only briefly lathing over her clit before dipping lower, using his thumbs to spread her folds for better access. (Y/N) let out a moaning purr as Blitz pressed his tongue inside her pussy, (Y/N) was fondling one of her breasts with one hand while the other hand rested behind her on the bed for support. Blitz tongue fucked (Y/N) slowly getting deeper with each thrust as one of his thumbs moved from spreading her open to toying with her clit eliciting beautiful purring groans and moans from the kitsune’s throat.

(Y/N) started lightly thrusting her hips into Blitz’s mouth as her breathing got shallow, hand tightening on Blitz’s horn to hold him in place as her six glorious tails spread behind her and her markings started glowing brightly. Blitz pressed two fingers in along side his tongue, curling them upwards as he pumped at a quick pace making (Y/N) toss her head backwards with a gasping cry, thrusting her hips harshly into the feeling as her insides tightened around Blitz’s fingers and tongue. Blitz used his other hand to roughly rub (Y/N)’s clit finally pulling the kitsune to climax as she cried out, squirting juices all over his face, tails flaring as she planted both hands on the mattress behind her. Smirking cheekily Blitz continued tongue fucking (Y/N) even after pulling his fingers free and ceasing touching her clit making his mate shudder as her hand come back to grip Blitz’s horn, pulling gently yet firmly all but forcing him to pull off her.

“Let’s…move…this along,” (Y/N) panted out

“F-fuck yes…please…” Blitz pleaded

(Y/N) crawled off the bed to move behind Blitz again, teasingly thrusting the vibe a couple times before pulling it free. Going back to the bed side table (Y/N) pulled out a large butt plug, grabbing the lube from the floor to slick up the toy. Blitz groaned in anticipation as he felt the tip of the plug against his hole, shifting into a high-pitched moan as (Y/N) carefully started pressing it into him, wiggling the plug slightly to ease the muscles open till it popped in. Blitz let out a hum as he wiggled his ass loving the feeling of the plug situated inside him.

“Alright, come claim you’re prize,” (Y/N) cooed moving to the bedside table once more to pull out a condom.

Blitz got up on his knees to watch as (Y/N) laid down with her head on the pillows near the headboard allowing him to easily crawl between her legs. The kitsune used her teeth to tare the condom open, tossing the wrapper on the floor before handing the condom to Blitz who easily slipped the rubber along his hard length. Pulling her knees up (Y/N) invited Blitz to enter her which he happily accepted, lining up with her pussy then gently pushing forwards eliciting a strained moan from them both.

“C-can you take it all?” Blitz asked stopping midway

“I-I…think so…” (Y/N) breathed out

“Okay…I’ll go slow…” Blitz assured (Y/N) although she already knew Blitz would never hurt her.

Blitz slowly continued pressing in with his hands planted on either side of (Y/N)’s body for leverage till he was fully hilted inside her. Taking a moment for the two of them to adjust Blitz enjoyed the look of (Y/N) beneath him, face flushed, tails sprawled on the mattress beneath her as she panted lightly truly the most gorgeous creature in all of hell. Blitz leaned up to capture (Y/N)’s mouth in a passionate kiss, heaving her knees right over his shoulders while simultaneously giving a roll of his hips.

“Hmm, harder…faster…Blitz…oh! Please!” (Y/N) pleaded, pulling from the kiss.

Blitz huffed a laugh as he picked up the pace already feeling his mate starting to clench around him. Blitz reangled his hips ever so slightly and went just a little faster easily pulling the kitsune into her climax, back arching with a growling cry followed by a wave of power that rippled through the bedroom. Blitz quickly followed Cumming while seated to the hilt inside (Y/N), forehead tapping to her collarbone as he panted and shuddered through his orgasm. (Y/N) worked on catching her own breath as she brought up a hand to gently caress up the back of Blitz’s neck to the back of his head. A few moments later Blitz pulled his hips backwards to pull out, reaching down to yank the condom off not worrying where it landed on the floor as he laid out over (Y/N), tucking his head up underneath her chin, tail coiling around her one thigh. (Y/N) drew nonsensical patterns along Blitz’s back as they basked in the euphoria of their respective highs as well as each others company.

“I love you,” Blitz whispered into his mate’s fur.

“I love you too…should I take this out?” (Y/N) retorted moving her hand down to pat lightly at the plug still firmly situated in Blitz’s ass.

“Not yet…fuck, maybe I’ll wear it until tomorrow,” Blitz chuckled, giving a little wiggle of his ass.

“Ha-ha, whatever you want love,” (Y/N) chuckled in turn moving her hand back up to Blitz’s back.

#Helluvaboss #Helluvabossfanfiction #Helluvabossfanfic #fanfictions #fanfic #HelluvabossBlitzo #Reader Insert #Female reader #Kitsune Reader #BlitzoxReader #Smut #Romance #Humor

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averysexyleon · 1 year

Text

Forty Nine

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

This is the work of the Black God.

It is the work of a desperate man, nothing more. No gods required.

Nonetheless, his powers will have to be taken before he is imprisoned. With the aid of that entity there is no telling how easily he might escape.

We are in agreement. Bring forth the King.

—----

Ethan awoke with a start; his journal was in his hands; he’d fallen asleep on the parlor sofa. What were those voices? He realized they’d been speaking the medieval dialect of Romanian. Godric’s dialect. The blond sat up, rubbing his eyes, and was slightly startled as the front door opened. Karl entered, bringing in an armful of firewood, and crouched by the large, empty fireplace.

“What are you doing?”

“Just finished puttin’ everybody to bed,” the other said in an amused voice, “Figured if you’re gonna banish yourself out here, you might want a fire.”

Ethan sat up slowly, wondering what time it was. He’d come to the parlor after dinner; it had been early. He closed the journal and rubbed his eyes again. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to hide away, I can take you,” Karl chided; he looked underdressed, wearing only cargo pants, his boots, and his long-sleeved shirt. Without his coat, hat and glasses, he looked so young and handsome. His thick frame was silhouetted against the created beginnings of a small fire, his masculine profile was full-lips, nose, brow. When he pivoted and smirked at Ethan, the blond blushed. He instantly wondered how to tell Karl to ditch wearing anything that hid his face and body, forever.

“Do you want to…stay in here for a while? I can get us drinks.”

“Sure, Buttercup.”

As the fire grew, Ethan returned to the parlor with one glass of wine, one whiskey. Karl was sitting on the sofa as he had the night that Ethan told him about Godric. He’d been in a similar cheeky mood then.

See anything you like, Buttercup?

Even further back, Ethan remembered sitting on the ottoman while Maricara inspected his face, his hand, musing about his existence.

Walking in the darkness, with no notion who he is! But how can it be healed?

His haltingly amiable words to Karl. What color were your eyes, before….?

Green.

Ethan sat next to the older man, not asking if he could cuddle; Heisenberg’s arm was already draped over an empty spot that seemed made for him. Yellow eyes lit up with a smirk at Ethan’s serious expression. The scowl brightened into a boyish smile when he met the other’s eyes. For a moment they looked at each other, neither speaking.

Ethan handed over the whiskey.

“I’m not the wife,” he began, and Karl chuckled almost too readily, as though he knew it would come up sooner or later. “You’re the wife.”

“No way.” Karl’s accent was never misplaced, somehow.

“I was meaning to tell you, Miranda was trying to get into my head,” Ethan was smiling behind the wine glass, “Looking for where Colm’s body is-I have no idea why-and I didn’t want her to know, so I started thinking about you. She got to see your ass.”

Heisenberg made an overwhelmingly disgusted face, while Ethan laughed. This caused Heisenberg to laugh, then drink deeply from the glass of whiskey, and he placed it on the table with a final cringe. “So she’s back to that shit…I knew it was gonna happen, she just needed time to get her power back, I guess.”

“Is that something she was able to do?”

Karl’s expression by firelight had never looked more serious, more hurt. “Not with any accuracy, with the people who got cadou. Which was lucky for me…but I still trained myself to think of anything but her while I was around her. Others, sometimes…. It was torture for ‘em. Put a few people out of misery after she got in their heads an’ they were punished for whatever it was she thought they knew…or believed. When Donna figured out how to use her…” he gestured, “Miranda had her start doin’ that dirty work. Messin’ with heads. Takin’ things out. Puttin’ things in that don’t go.” Karl’s eyebrows raised. “That’s…about when Donner’n’I stopped….when I-I…c-c…”

Even his voice was haunted. He bit his lip, willing his stutter to quiet, as Ethan stared into the fire alongside him. Karl sipped again, this time stroking his fingers along Ethan’s bicep. Ethan spoke, willing to give Heisenberg a break after that intense confession.

“I…I guess, read? Chris today, by accident. I don’t know how that’s possible, I thought it was only a thing that happened here, or with people who were infected.”

Karl’s expression moved to a sly one, and Ethan turned to him. “Did you know he…had feelings for me?”

“Ethan, I don’t know how a guy is a computer genius, a complete badass with a shotgun, and a total idiot all at the same time, but you are one of the most obtuse son-of-a-bitches I’ve ever met.” He laughed at the scowl now on Ethan’s face. “Of course I know. How did you NOT know?”

“Does it…bother you?” Ethan knew his own jealous streak had shown up several times, but he assumed Heisenberg’s hatred of Chris was over the factory incident, not his feelings toward Ethan. He’d never acted concerned about it.

“Nah. I agree with him, why would it bother me?” Heisenberg managed more whiskey. Ethan considered this, and finally smiled at what he realized must be a compliment.

After a comfortable pause, Heisenberg turned the empty glass in his hand, staring at the crystal patterns. “Do whatever you have to, to not let her see what she wants to see. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about with the grave-don’t tell me, I don’t need to know-nothin’ good can come of her wanting information, and then gettin’ it.”

Ethan realized something in that moment, and he turned to Karl, wide-eyed. “Is that why you won’t talk about–!” The crystal fragment.

Karl’s expression told him he was correct. Ethan’s face fell. “Wait, was it…Miranda trying to get that information from you? Did she…possess me?”

Karl had apparently already considered this. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think that was all you, wantin’ to know. An’ Ethan. I don’t want to talk about it because…”

They were about to delve into a new era of their relationship, a deeper layer, Ethan realized. Karl had been nothing but honest with him since he’d met him, but there was still this one wedge between them. The single thing he didn’t speak about, and Ethan was finally going to know why. It would mean many things, maybe, but it would bring them closer in a way that Heisenberg was afraid of. It was the final secret, wasn’t it?

He should have felt excited; he felt sick.

“Not only does talkin’ about it uh…invite those thoughts…because it does. But. Eva and I have known for years now that the thing has to be destroyed. This is somethin’ in the making for a long time.”

The Duke had said that, hadn’t he?

“Always thought I’d have to kill…them.” He was talking about his siblings. “They might still end up dead-None of us know the full extent of what the shit does. Miranda probably doesn’t even know, she just guesses. We don’t know if it’ll kill me. I planned for it just in case. Made peace with it.”

“But you still have your cadou–?”

“Right. That cadou was a lot stronger before. The crystal was like a built in turbocharger. I could do a lot more with it. With it not powerin’ the cadou,” Heisenberg chose his words carefully, “I don’t have the same power. I used it when you and I fought. I won’t do that again, I want the damn thing gone, I want her gone. I’m happy to fight her however I can, and probably will, til the end. But the crystal has to go before that, an’ when that happens, there’s a chance I might go with it.”

Ethan was silent. His blood felt like ice. His head felt full of cotton. He blinked at the fire. So this was the conversation. They’d gone from a tense dance of words around coffee in the dining room, to this.

This was what it was like to not be in denial. Neither he, nor the other person, was trying to change the conversation into something hopeful, or protect feelings. Nobody walked off in the middle of the discussion. There was a completed delivery of potentially devastating news, and a quiet acceptance.

A billion ‘what if’s and ‘but’s boiled beneath the surface. And yet Ethan knew that for as much as he knew about the mold, Heisenberg and Eva both had years, decades….in Eva’s case, a century, on his information. They had accepted it as a possibility. He now had to accept it as a possibility.

Was more black fluid coming from his eyes? The tunnel vision felt like it was coming back. He dragged his fingers across his face and looked; no, it was tears. He was hyperventilating. He laughed at his own stupidity and then drank more wine. Karl was looking at him, but he couldn’t look back.

“Talk to me, Ethan.”

The scowl was aimed at the fire. His voice sounded like a child’s.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Maybe I won’t.”

“What’ll I do if you do?” He finally turned, really crying now, to see the still-contemplative look on the other’s face. He put a hand over his mouth to stop the stream of begging, pleading that threatened to come out. In a gesture of unusual tenderness, Karl threaded his hand through Ethan’s blond hair, almost petting him.

“It’ll be okay, Papa. Remember what I told you? We’re all just energy. I’ll always be around in some way.”

Ethan still had his hand over his mouth, and now he leaned down into Karl’s chest, thinking of many different things. His own father’s disappearance, Mia’s deaths, his deaths, Godric’s imprisonment, the crystallized man in the tomb. Alcina’s devastation over losing barely-human daughters. Eva’s great yearning to be human and how she seemed to spend every moment of her human life grateful for existence, drinking it like nectar.

Life seemed very fragile and unfair and he could only cry about it. Karl’s arm draped over him, pulling him in closer.

Maybe it would be okay, but maybe it wouldn’t.

For the second time that night, he didn’t remember falling asleep. Though Karl had no fear about a potentially dangerous Ethan, he respected the blond’s wishes to be alone, and after tucking him in, Karl left the room. Ethan slept by the light of the dying embers.

Neither Karl nor Ethan saw the shadow of Jochen, constantly beside him, never truly dead or alive. He sauntered out after his brother, eager to watch the other work.

—------------

Ethan fell in his dream, into a dark spot of a catalogued megamycete. He knew when he sat up that she would be there, looking at him with her pale eyes and confused expression.

“Miranda,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Not really Miranda. A fragment of Miranda. The only decent part she had left, apparently.

“You! I…forget who you are. You learned how to come at will?”

“No, I’m sleeping. Dreaming.”

“I must have been thinking of you.” She giggled; it sounded just like Eva.

Ethan rubbed his face tiredly. She continued, “Still, if you can come here in a dream that would mean, maybe your powers are growing?”

“You…the other you, said something today about almost being out of time,” he said. The train station. Maybe his desire to know had brought him here. “Out of time for what?”

She sat cross-legged. Ethan wondered why this couldn’t have been the Miranda that he encountered; she seemed so docile, charming. Even her thoughtful frown was nearly innocent. Couldn’t they just make a quick trade?

“I can only guess…But I can sense that the core of the Mold, the consciousness, will die soon. She cannot lead from there. The mold is a colony, yes? It must accept a queen. Without a queen, it will fall apart, just memories moving into the earth like raindrops. There has been so much energy used lately.”

Ethan thought of the dragon. Their re-creation of Eveline, who seemed to have far more power than everyone else. Eveline had, after all, created her own fungal root-in Dulvey.

He scratched his head. “Could you do that? Could you be the queen?”

She looked startled. “I…am a discarded piece. A reject. I cannot even remember who I am much anymore. We all go to the voices, and then nothingness, without a complete mind to lead.”

Ethan switched to rubbing his temple.

How could he tell Eva that this was her future? She’d done it, without knowing, for nearly a century anyway. With no guidance, while witnessing the terror her mother inflicted on an entire settlement for multiple generations. He’d just accepted the possibility of Heisenberg’s death earlier in the evening, and now he was going to have to accept that Eva might also have to leave him forever? And if she didn’t….

He was crying again. Miranda-fragment put her hand on his knee; she felt less than solid, like a soft breeze. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, laughing while crying.

“The Black God has been calling you,” she said, looking at her own hand that had been on his knee, as though she only knew this information after touch. “Maybe it has something to say that will help?”

“What even is the Black God? I’ve heard that since I came here. Isn’t it just the Mold?”

“No,” she tapped a finger on her chin. She was stunning. He hated looking at her and seeing someone so beautiful. “It is….a consciousness that was created from mimicking humans, perhaps. The Mold rarely creates things on its own, it just copies memories. But this one was created long before us all, before this land was settled. It is a trickster. It has helped, but…” she tsked. “It is a fickle one.”

“Miranda embraced the Black God,” Ethan said in a monotone, dragging his hand down his face. “She accepted it, or whatever it was she wrote in her notes.”

“Yes, one like you, a traveler, can do that. It has been done. Our long-ago Kings were instructed to split its consciousness between all four of them. First to win our land. And then to rule it. But it was banished after it kept…well…eating outsiders. The Kings became cannibals when they embraced the Black God for too long. It is a powerful friend, but has no human mind.”

He remembered what Godric had said, about who the Black God was. We are.

He remembered Miranda eating the bloody heart as she sat on the rock island.

“Where….is it?”

Her expression of curiosity blossomed into one of awe. “You really….it’s…I…hm…don’t know. There’s so much I don’t know.”

“That makes two of us.”

Ethan closed his eyes again.

He sought the fireplace with the burning embers. The sofa. The two empty glasses that sat on the table. When he opened his eyes, he was sitting up on the couch. Karl’s fire crackled gently at him as if to tell him to go back to sleep. But, Ethan stared out the window. A restlessness overtook him. He recalled the storm Heisenberg had created to correct the hysteresis of the consciousness.

They had uncovered a small, glowing red bundle of neurons and other cells. It was under the surface, down the cliffside. The caverns hadn’t been made by rock, but by petrified mold. This whole area was ancient fossil, and the mold just kept growing in it year after year, making a cocoon bed out of its own fossils.

Ethan grabbed his phone and scrolled through it, looking for some sort of placation, some communication that would bring him peace, or allow him to ignore his restlessness. He found the opposite.

From Chris.

-Yeah, we all underestimated you. I’m not ashamed to say that, I’m relieved you’re as tough as you are.

-You have no idea how tough I have gotten. At this point I really should be studied.

-Don’t joke about stuff like that, Ethan…some people who get infected really are.

-I know. I just hope it’s enough to finally get rid of her.

-If anybody can do it, it’s you. You’re resilient as hell. And maybe as stubborn as she is.

-I’d say more stubborn, she just has time on me.

-Fair enough. Don’t go doing anything crazy just because I give you my full stamp of approval to be in charge, and told you that I believe in you. I try not to say shit like that even when it’s always been true.

-Since when have I ever been anything but cautious?

-Very funny.

-You should say more ‘shit’ that’s true. I like hearing the truth.

-Don’t push your luck.

Before he knew it, he was standing at the window, staring out across the moonlit field. Ethan’s gaze was on the part of the field he couldn’t see from here; the house was on a high hill. But he knew, remembered very well, where IT was. The fungal root had re-colonized far away from the ceremony site, and almost seemed to hug the caverns underneath the cliffs of this home, as if it were the only un-contaminated ground left. Shrinking away from the area of the blast radius.

Ethan didn’t even put on shoes; he was out the door in a moment, moving across the dark cliffside trail like a ghost. He followed the path of the funeral procession…it felt like so long ago. The path where Karl had ridden by him on the large black horse. Past the hill where Karl had pulled the mechanical heart out-the first time he’d ever seen the engineer shaken. Where he’d learned who Eva was, saw Eveline reappear in the ‘flesh’ for the first time.

Why are you helping me?

Because I hate Miranda.

The blond peered down the steep cliff sides, where before, Eva had appeared and reappeared, moving along the rocky cliffs when Ethan was Heisenberg’s anchor. Heisenberg had yelled at him, “Why can’t you do THAT?”

He turned behind him to look toward the house; moonlight illuminated the quiet, dark manor. The tall grass, now mostly dead, whispered around him. Like the castle and Donna’s home, the Heisenberg manor was positioned at the far reaches of this mountain valley, as if to pull away from the organism that resided under it. As if their ancestors had wanted to hide in the mountains, away from the center of the root.

His family slept there, and Ethan might have felt guilt over once again venturing off on his own, except that the desperation he felt was louder in his soul than the guilt.

He wasn’t accepting death as he was told to, was he?

Was he doing what Miranda did?

He was supposed to go back to bed, and hope that whatever had gotten into him since stepping into that pool didn’t take over. Hope that he didn’t try to wrestle information out of another member of his family. What if he went after one of the children next?

Being out here, learning what to do-however he was going to do that-was less frightening than going back to bed and pretending that they had time, that there wasn’t a need for him to step into whatever full power he had at arm’s reach. Or, maybe, he was delusional and it was all an excuse and the pool of death had ruined him completely. Ethan’s cheeks were streaked with dried tears.

He didn’t want Karl to die.

He didn’t want Eva to die, either.

He didn’t want to keep locking himself away.

In Chris’s notes he’d read about Miranda’s encounter with the Mold. She had wandered into a cave, touched the root. Her mind was flooded with information. It was a feeling more than a thought, but Ethan’s mind was made up.

As the tall man disappeared from the cliffside, now easily moving from precipice to precipice, jumping the way that Eva had jumped so long ago, those inside the manor began to stir and awaken. Most of the inhabitants didn’t know why, but were roused from their dreams. Some fell back asleep quickly. Others stayed awake, peering at the ceiling or wall, wondering what had awakened them.

Ethan could sense the energy from the fungal root as he moved closer to it. He was only several petrified-mold shelves away from the ground. Karl’s attempts at burning the top layer of mycelium worked well farther out, where the water helped him conduct electricity over wide swaths of land, but here the ground was insulated, protected. And the root’s energy was strong, he realized.

Miranda was close, he could sense her. Ethan moved once more, stepping from the sandy white shelves of petrified rock to the ground. His bare feet touched on dirt threaded with mycelium. It did feel electric; his hairs stood on end, he heard a buzzing in his ears. He stared at the ground, noting the silvery strands that pulsed as if reading him.

The one that healed us.

Whatever voice that was, referred to Karl’s tornado lifting debris and rot away from the core, allowing it to ‘breathe’...to survive.

That was technically Heisenberg, he answered in his mind. No longer had he communicated with the consciousness than she was there, standing ten feet away. His conversation had called her to him like a beacon. Though Miranda smiled-in her sinister way-at him, she looked perplexed, as if she were surprised to see him.

“You’ve made a grave error, doing all of this in an attempt to stop me. So much energy you’ve wasted. I cannot re-enter the Megamycete as its ruler. What will you do instead, who will you sacrifice?”

The taunt hurt, as it would be Eva who suffered. Miranda seemed to catch onto this emotion, and she tilted her head. “Eva..?”

“How can you just pull a crystal out of somebody without killing them?” He asked bluntly. Ethan didn’t want to argue, he just wanted information. If he had to touch the fungal root to get it, so be it. But maybe she was feeling as generous as her clueless, trapped remnant.

She chuckled, not even listening to his inner dialogue.

“Worried about dear Heisenberg, are we?”

His lips moved into a tight line. “Tell me.”

“You mean, like this?” Miranda pulled her golden-clawed fingers away from herself; in a shower of sparks, a glimmer moved into her hand. She held it aloft for a moment, turning it. “Alcina’s. There are many others, lost to time, but the ones I seek, we both know who has them.” She pushed the crystal back into her body, her eyes glowing white as it merged, skin turning white and threading with white veins.

He didn’t speak.

She crossed her arms, happy, it seemed, to know more than Ethan. “Do you remember when the Mold took you, at the ship? Eveline’s root was there. You were absorbed by that Megamycete, Ethan. At an earlier time, so was Mia. When it chose you, and pulled you in, you became something else entirely. Something so much more. So did Mia. Unfortunately, by the time she got to me, her mind was not intact.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is yours?” She grinned. “Do you understand?”

“What the hell does my past have to do with my question?”

She chuckled against a rumble of thunder. “You are more powerful than you know, Ethan. You were a human who became part of a core. The others are not. They never will be. They are simply this organism trying to create its copies, as it always has, its own ecosystem.”

“Who else has been absorbed by a…Megamycete?”

“I was,” she said proudly. “Rose was. As well as someone else you know, but not the ones you look to save.”

He threw his hands out. “I’m done with the fucking riddles. This isn’t a storybook.”

“You could send the Lords to me,” she said abruptly, and he tilted his head. So this was why she’d appeared to him. She had something to say, to bargain. He’d figured. She spoke again, realizing he was listening intently. “I can remove the pieces, and leave them intact.”

“And…if I did…Heisenberg?”

“I will exchange his crystal for the one you currently have. His brother is very useful to me. I have spent a lifetime curating his mind into the obedient son that his twin was not. He knows how to move through strata expertly. He is non-negotiable.”

“Molding his mind, huh. Is that why he got away from you? Why he’s still away from you?”

Her smile faltered, and he lowered his head. The wind was blowing now, icy on his neck. Ethan barely felt it. He had another question.

“You have Heisenberg’s?” That didn’t sound right.

“It is a one time offer, Ethan. I suggest you choose wisely.”

He couldn’t read her, the way she read him, he realized. Dammit. Was she bluffing? It didn’t matter. Ethan knew that if he made some kind of deal with the devil-to Heisenberg, the literal devil-and lost their one chance at getting his brother back, Karl would never forgive him. Besides, if she really did have the crystal, she would have to crush it to destroy whatever part of Karl was inside it, right? Heisenberg was still alive, so either the cadou could exist on its own, or she was lying. Right? Hopefully.

Ethan was desperate to find a loophole or a solution, but not this desperate.

“I always choose wisely,” he said curtly, and stepped closer to her. His intent wasn’t to interact with her, however, and the blond dissipated as his body morphed through the layers of mold, re-emerging moments later in the last place he’d seen the root. A cavern, where grey rock and walls of crystals surrounded the thick, black knot.

He knew, sensed, that she could not follow him here. Godric had put it best.

She is denied.

The Megamycete had changed.

The last time Ethan saw it, the strange growth was the size of a car, resembled a curled fetus, and something similar to a human heart. It had glowed red, brightly, angrily. And it had a heartbeat, a rapid one.

Now the root towered over his head, fifteen, twenty feet high? More importantly, it had changed shape. It no longer looked like a fetus at all. It looked like a human heart, complete with tendrils of mold suspending it in the air like blood vessels leading away from its center. It moved and pumped grotesquely and again Ethan wondered why he had to be made out of something so disgusting. He approached it, surveying further.

This change is your work, Ethan.

The same voice as earlier, the one that spoke about healing. He ignored it, to examine the health of the root.

Some of the walls of the ‘heart’ were graying, hardening. It was struggling, he realized. The center still glowed bright red, still seemed to have plenty of vigor within them, but he was reminded of Heisenberg when he saw the massive amount of energy, and the breaking, failing tendrils around it. He didn’t even need to ask what the problem was this time. The absence of the mother, the mind…the heart? Of the mold.

This is what Miranda had meant. They were running out of time to save the Megamycete. What would happen if they didn’t give it the component it apparently needed? Why couldn’t the damn thing just adapt?

Eveline’s Mold was destroyed, and her consciousness lived on. Lived on in Ethan, he realized abruptly. He carried all of them inside of his mind. Jack and Marguerite as well. The house. The Molded within it. He’d become a holder of a world, without even realizing it. That world was now connected to this one; he’d become a part of this one as well. So had Rosemary.

He would live if this mold died. Rose would live. But everyone else existed only through the conduit of this organism. He didn’t know what would happen. Ethan didn’t want to find out, he realized.

Careful now, he heard a voice mutter in a teasing, tantalizing voice as he approached. Don’t want to touch anything dangerous.

It almost sounded like Godric. This was different from the cacophony of voices indexed by the mold. Was this its creation? The Black God? He could sense a presence here, one that wasn’t invisible voices, or another person.

He spoke aloud. “If I…touch you. Am I going to lose my mind?”

“Human minds are so easy to lose. Like pocket change.”

“If I touch you, will it kill the root? Take more power?”

“Not so much more. I have been waiting for you. Saving energy. Sending you strength.”

He thought of moving the sarcophagus. Pinning Heisenberg.

“Why me?”

“So that we all may survive.”

He thought back to Miranda’s mind. A trickster. A ‘fickle one.’

Ethan’s heart beat so hard in his chest he thought it might burst.

“Shall we, Ethan Winters? Do you want my help?”

Alcina, he thought wildly, I need you here.

Was that even possible? His entire being, this entire chamber, coursed with energy. If it was possible, it would be here. The Black God chuckled, as if he didn’t mind entertaining.

Ethan turned, eyeing the cavern, which had no entrance or exit. The crystals glistened from the red light on the fungal root, and then, startlingly, Dimitrescu shimmered into view. She seemed translucent. She was traveling as he used to travel–in dreams, her physical body likely still sleeping. She wore a black silk nightgown.

“What is this? Am I dreaming?” Alcina hesitantly stepped toward Ethan, eyeing the Megamycete skeptically. “Is that…”

“I need your help,” he began anxiously. Her utterly bewildered look was almost humorous.

“Surely you are not going to touch that thing.”

“It’s…whatever’s inside…it’s offering to help us.”

“And you trust…THAT?”

“It won’t let Miranda anywhere near it,” he said quickly. “The whole reason it looks like that on the edges is because it…kicked Miranda out, I guess, after the ceremony with Rose. It also has…all the voices.”

She looked back at the root again with an expression of wonder, laced with her usual disgust. When she didn’t speak, he pressured her, “Weren’t you the one who said if I could fully transform, it could be used against Miranda?”

She arched a brow. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

“You were in control of yours. How did you do it? Please. If you think I can’t do this, be honest with me, I need it right now, I need somebody to tell me the truth. I trust you to do that.”

Alcina was completely taken aback at this, but recovered quickly. She blinked rapidly, and crossed her arms, pacing and staring at the crystals that surrounded her.,

“I…was not in control at first. I suppose I am very headstrong. I was not frightened, I was angry that my body had done something so unacceptable, without my permission. I thought of my daughters, in the end. Every time I transformed, they entered my mind, instead of fear. Had I not had this stubbornness, lack of fear- no doubt I would have been as Moreau. Emotions ruled him, and ruled what his body did. Miranda asked many questions of me after I showed her what I could do. All of her questions related to my emotions, my thoughts, state of mind. They seem paramount to a successful transformation. To keep control of yourself.”

Ethan followed her pacing, watching her phase in and out of view with each pulse of the ‘heart.’

“As to your second point…” she stopped, dropped her hands, and turned her head to meet his eyes. “You, Ethan….” Her smile was soft, barely perceptible. “You will be fine. You made your way into a lost place with no exit, and fought with every fiber of your being, well past barriers anyone else could have. I have no doubt that you can control whatever this thing will turn you into. However, what then?” She eyed the root with suspicion. “After Miranda is gone, will it quietly remove itself from you? Will you slowly go mad, as in the old stories? Look at…well.” She huffed, batting her eyelashes. “Look at what happened to her.”

“Yeah,” he countered. “I guess I figured I’d cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Such a man,” she muttered, but didn’t move. Her eyes were on Ethan as he wiped his palms on his pants, and then stepped forward.

“I hope I won’t regret this,” he muttered, hearing the laugh from the entity he now knew was the Black God. As Ethan lifted his right hand, he hovered it for a moment. “Did you know Godric?”

“The warrior King, I so loved him. So many good battles together. Then one day….ritually ripped apart from each other. I would have broken him out of there, somehow…..and they knew it.”

This was enough to satisfy Ethan. If it was good enough for Godric, it was good enough for him. It was this, or go lay back down and try not to wake up black-eyed and insane, with no memory of it.

He touched one of the black spots on the bottom end of the ‘heart.’ Instantly, his vision went black. Alcina’s consciousness disappeared from the cavern, her worried look unseen by Ethan as he wrestled with the pain, unfamiliarity, of thousands of voices surging through his entire being, as if he were electrical conduit. One of the voices-presences-was louder, stronger, snaking its way deep into his chest.

When he burst upward through stone and dirt, it wasn’t like his previous travels. Turning into air, as Eva had once called it. Ethan quite violently erupted from the ground, the crystals and mycelium both bending out of his way when he moved, his force enough to burst through soil on its own. He struggled to stay conscious, shaking dirt from his hair-he felt suddenly exhausted, as if he should sleep, but he ground his teeth instead. Unsteadily he stumbled, and then fell onto one knee.

The blond watched his hands elongate as he held them up; his heart raced even more. His body felt warm, for the first time since he could remember. So warm he wanted to pull his skin off. He was burning alive. This was the metabolism of the mold, he knew. He didn’t know how he knew. Ethan held his head in his hands, grunting against a sudden crushing headache. He heard the voice inside.

Sleep. Rest.

I can do it.

“No,” he argued, feeling his very calcified-white skin growing strange, crystal patterns around his limbs. It needed more arms, more legs. Too small. Maybe more eyes? Ethan fought against this too. “NO, NONE OF THAT.”

He dragged what he could of his long, clawed hands across his face. Black fluid trickled out from his eyes, and his cheek felt like stone-cracked marble. Smooth, with deep fissures. Though he couldn’t see it, his skin had lost all color and now resembled something like the moonlight that streamed down over him. Shadow and blue-white light mixing as this…guest? Intruder?

Part of him

–NO.

Changed him.

It seemed the Black God conformed at least partly to its host; Ethan did not turn into an entirely new creature. His body grew in height, elongated, and he felt the burn on his back where his skin crackled–Tendrils? Fibers? ……Wings? In horror he realized that they could climb, bony structures that protruded from his back, holding wispy black tatters with hooked ends. They reminded him of Miranda’s mutated form’s wings-those had looked downy.

It wanted to get up, away.

NO.

Ethan dragged his hands-claws, blackened, with dripping ichor hitting the ground as it flowed from his fingertips-into the dirt, pressing his bare feet there too. He felt his toes flex, and realized they were long and clawlike as well. It was now a tug-of-war with his body, with him holding on, clenching teeth to the ground, and the thing inside him wrestling up, seeking the sky.

The same obsidian that moved down to cover Miranda’s eyes was creeping toward his own, but his stubbornness seemed to give it pause. The shining mycelium strands, black veins underneath, pooled across his forehead, under his chin, but his eyes remained uncovered. The blackened pools crystallized, blackened like a crown over his brow. They had relented; he could see.

His vision blurred, reddened. He recalled the crimson light from below, the energy of the Megamycete. Ethan’s sclerae became red, his pupils golden. Suddenly his teeth ached. His entire face ached. When he stretched his mouth in a strangled cry, he was forced to acknowledge that his entire jaw was larger, his mouth wider somehow. His tongue licked around a row of sharp, elongated teeth.

Teeth for tearing.

Ethan couldn’t argue with that one.

Up.

He didn’t want to go up. Well, he did, but not like this. Not right now. Not until he could get control of this thing.

And then what?

Well, he’d be in control, that’s what.

Was he talking to himself?

Ethan felt something pulling. Tearing. Himself. Oh, no you don’t, he thought wildly. But he watched the ground disappear from view, and then everything disappeared.

On the cliffside, out of his view, Eva, Alcina, Moreau, Donna, and Heisenberg were all running down the trail, approaching the end of the rocks where the bonfire had burned months ago. Karl was in front by a long shot. Behind him Eva yelped, “There!” as they all skidded close to the edge, peering down the long craggy ravine. Right as she pointed, the gaunt, long figure barely recognizable as Ethan exploded, bursting into-

“Kingfishers,” Karl marveled, his eyes luminescent as his head tilted up, following their flight pattern. There were hundreds of the small birds moving in tandem together. The former lords and their sibling watched in awe at the silhouettes against the moon. The brightly colored birds bobbed and weaved in a murmuration reminiscent of Miranda’s crows. The flock hugged the cliff wall, drifted up, trying to fly high, then lowered. The movements were fluid, but jerky, as if a tug-of-war were taking place.

“You can do it, Ethan,” Alcina muttered under her breath, eyes on the flock.

Donna turned to stare at her older sibling. “Do what?!”

The birds all collapsed into one dark cloud, that then morphed in a flurry of wings. When Ethan reappeared, it was on one of the ledges. He held his head in his hands and cursed, but the sound barely carried. It was a growl, inhuman, no vocal chords maneuvering any language.

His body was elongated, different. His forehead, arms, legs dripped with black. He was barely recognizable, but it was him, all right.

Karl didn’t have his hammer, but he raised a hand anyway, summoning any long-lost pieces of metal from the valley below. When Eva motioned to the others, Karl turned back to them. “No, stay here.”

After biting her lip, Eva nodded, and Alcina said haughtily, “You have two minutes.”

Heisenberg scoffed at this, but meandered down his awaiting steps quickly. As he descended, he finally chose to hop over to a higher ledge than Ethan. He stared over the white ‘rock’ at the creature that sat on all fours.

It was tall, lean, dark on the edges-hands, feet-with a pale torso and face. Not so different from Miranda’s transformation, it was a beautifully grotesque thing with long legs and longer arms. But this one looked suited to being on all fours, with its hunched posture and inverted hocks. Karl was reminded of deer legs, due to the thinness and shape.

It heaved, exhaling and sounding like a bull, complete with steam issuing from its nostrils. Karl wanted to cheer Ethan on, tell him not to fight it, give him some other sage wisdom-having transformed once himself as well, but he was rendered speechless, finally.

The thing that was Ethan was rising to stand now, almost fully upright, drawing itself up with closed eyes. It probably took all of Ethan’s concentration to maintain control of this form, and Karl stared, his own glowing eyes still wide. Was Ethan in control?

His clothing was in tatters, he had some kind of appendages protruding from his back. Claws dripped with inky black. When he lifted his head, Karl could see the familiar sight of blond hair. It stood out from the trails of black crystals that crusted around his forehead, leaking fluid under his eyes and down his throat. His mouth was entirely blackened, but they were Ethan’s lips after all. The thing-Ethan- grimaced-the teeth were not Ethan’s. They were fangs.

Karl was only on a shelf several feet higher than the ledge the blond had landed on. Ethan was close, but not within reaching distance. And now that he was pulled up to his full height, Ethan nearly towered over the engineer. He was easily seven feet tall, maybe eight. Heisenberg was still mesmerized into silence when it saw him.

Its eyes opened, and they were no longer blackened. They glowed red, with bright yellow irises. It stilled when it caught his gaze, and the grimace full of fangs fell. Ethan’s uncertain expression peered out past this creature’s.

Heisenberg actually beamed.

He’d know that upset gaze anywhere.

Ethan paused; seeing the other man had been his worst nightmare. He wanted to wrestle through this alone. This thing inside of him seemed to regard the other with nothing more than mere curiosity-do we need to kill? NO- but just as the shock spread across Ethan’s face he realized the nightmare of him becoming Molded had never been a nightmare to Karl.

Karl had, in fact, known what Ethan was made of all along.

It changed nothing for him.

This changed nothing. He’d never seen the engineer so fascinated.

Captivated.

Ethan thought Heisenberg would only be reminded of Miranda in this form, as Ethan was…it filled him with disgust. But as Heisenberg stood on the rock with an overwhelmingly enthralled expression, Ethan’s heart began to still.

Just then Karl whistled sharply, thumb and finger in his mouth. It caused Ethan to frown; his new face contorted in uncomfortable places; his brows drew over golden-red eyes, but the reason for the shrill ‘come here’ whistle became clear when a sleepy-but-excited Evie appeared on the rock next to Karl in her brand new pajamas.

She held a very awake, very squirmy toddler-Rosemary. Evie sat the girl on the rock beside Karl, who picked her up easily. Together the children each held out a hand to Ethan, as if they could pet him, touch him, or coax him to the rock. Heisenberg continued to beam, an awestruck look on his face, his own breath fogging around him in the cold night air.

Ethan dropped down instinctively to all fours, but was still within eye level of the group. Rosemary was babbling dada, apparently recognizing him when he could not even recognize himself. Evie looked impressed, something he never thought he’d see from her. Her smile was wide and genuine.

His eyes darted between them, back up to the engineer, back between them. Part of Ethan screamed in rage that Karl had brought his children down onto a cliffside to gawk at this animal.

But he could formulate thoughts even better with this added consciousness, that only saw things as they were. Had no fear.

They weren’t gawking. And they weren’t just his children, were they? This was what Alcina had spoken about. Family.

He pushed himself upright, standing only on his back legs, leaning his palms against the rock where the trio watched him. It felt less natural than being on all fours, but he was adamant to gain control.

Ethan’s eyes were still wild and reddened, but he dropped his head as if to show submission-in reality, he was exhausted, and didn’t want to fight any longer. He finally closed his eyes.

Don’t let me give up -

Rosemary’s hand on the back of his head burned to the touch, but there was also some sensation of…tearing. Letting go. Sleeping. It radiated from his neck and through his chest. And it wasn’t him.

When Ethan got the strength to climb onto the rock, his eyes flickered open enough to see that his hands were back to normal. His clothing was torn open where he’d transformed-he could finally, finally feel the chill of autumn air on his skin-and he was still barefoot. He rolled lazily onto his back as if the petrified mold were the most comfortable bed in the world.

His eyes were still closed. “I know, a cage,” he said to Heisenberg.

“Are you kiddin’ me? THAT was somethin’ Winters, that was, holy shit!…..”

“Dada-raaahhhrweerrr!” Rosemary approved.

The wind picked up, ruffling Ethan’s hair. He was ready, finally, to sleep.

#ethan winters #karl heisenberg #fic:the lightning that jumps between #fic: winters and the beast #donna beneviento #mother miranda #molded ethan winters #ethan winters deserved better lol #alcina dimitrescu #rosemary winters #molded ethan

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dnfhascorruptedme · 1 year

Text

Love Doesn't Last - Will Treaty

Chapter 0 - The Burning Bridge

Chapter 0 | The Burning Bridge

One man may be deceit. Two can be conspiracy. Three is the number I trust.

As the kingdom of Araluen prepares for war against Morgarath, Will and Horace accompany the Ranger Gilan on a mission to Celtica. But Celtica’s villages and mines are silent. Only two exhausted and starving girls called Evanlyn and Edith can tell them why: Morgarath has sent his foul creatures to enslave the Celts. While Gilan rode swiftly back to Araluen to report this news to the King, WIll and Horace discover the true purpose behind Morgarath’s actions. The Kingdom is sure to be defeated in a surprise three sided attack - unless they can find a way to prevent it.

Chapter 1 | The Silent

‘They’ve buried their loot, by the look of this,’ Will said and Gilan nodded, smiling thinly.

‘Good. Then without their map, they won't be able to find it again,’ he said, and Carney’s eyes shot wide open in protest.

‘But that's ours…’ he began, stopping as he saw the dangerous glint in Gillan's eyes.

‘It was stolen,’ the Ranger said, in a very low voice. ‘You crept in like jackals and stole it from people who are obviously in deep trouble. It’s not yours. It's theirs. Or their family’s, if they're still alive.’

‘They’re still alive,’ said a new voice from behind them. ‘They’ve run from Morgarath - those he hasn’t already captured.’

If she hadn’t spoken, they would’ve taken her for a boy. It was the soft voice that gave her away. She stood at the edge of the camp site, a slender figure with blonde hair cut short - to a boy’s length - dressed in a ragged tunic, breeches and soft leather boots, bound up to the knee. A stained and torn sheepskin vest seemed to be her only protection against the cold mountain nights for she wore no cloak and carried no blankets. Just a small bandanna tied into a bundle which, presumably, contained all her belongings.

She had a companion. This one they couldn't tell if they were a boy or girl. They were wearing a long, knee-length black cloak, the hood covering their face entirely, with a belt holding the fabric in place at the waist. Black, knee-high leather boots were equipped, and attached to the belt were two daggers. They were both extremely muddy, but other then that the stark contrast spoke volumes.

‘Where the devil did you spring from?’ Gilan asked, turning to face the two. He sheathed his saxe knife as he did so and allowed Carney to fall gratefully to his knees, exhausted.

The girl, who Will could now see was around his own age and, underneath a liberal coating of dirt, remarkably pretty, gestured vaguely.

‘Oh…’ she paused uncertainly, trying to gather her thoughts, and Will realised she was close to the point of exhaustion. The other person was also swaying lightly, and he could see their energy would not last longer. ‘I’ve been hiding out in the… hills for several weeks now,’ she said finally, casting an uncertain glance to her companion. Will had to admit she looked as though she had been. “And she’s been with me for… a couple days.”

‘Do you have a name? Both of you.’Gilan added, almost only talking to the girl as she was the one doing all the talking. He too could see they were both worn out.

She hesitated. She appeared uncertain as to whether to give them a name or not.

‘Evanlyn Wheeler, from Greenland Fief. And that’s Edith Raven, my friend from Redmont Fief. She doesn't talk,’ Evanlyn added as she saw Horace’s slight questioning look. He shut his mouth and nodded. ‘We were here visiting friends…’ She stopped and looked away from Gilan. She seemed to be thinking for a second, before she amended the statement after a head turn from Edith. ‘Rather, my mistress was visiting friends, when the Wargals attacked.’

‘Wargals!’ Will said, the word jerked form him, and she turned a level pair of brilliant green eyes upon him. As he looked into them, he realised she was more than pretty. Much, much more. She was beautiful. The strawberry blonde hair and green eyes were complimented by a small, straight nose and a full mouth that Will thought would look quite delightful if she was smiling. But right now, a smile was a long way away from the girl’s thoughts. She gave a sad little lift of her shoulders as she answered him.

‘Where did you think all the people had gone?’ she asked him. ‘Wargals have been attacking towns and villages throughout this part of Celtica for weeks now. The Celts couldn’t stand against them. They were driven out of their homes. Most of them escaped to the South-West Peninsula. But some were captured. I don't know what’s happened to them.’

Gilan and the two boys exchanged looks. Deep down, they'd all been expecting to hear something of the kind. Now it was out in the open.

‘I thought I saw Morgarath’s hand behind all this,’ Gilan said softly and the girl nodded, tears forming in her eyes. One of them slid down her cheek, tracking its way through the grime there. She put a hand to her eyes, and her shoulders began to shake. Quickly, Gilan stepped forward and caught her just before she fell. He lowered her gently to the ground, leaning her against one of the rocks that the boys had positioned around the fireplace. His voice was gentle and compassionate now.

‘It’s all right,’ he said to her. ‘You’re safe now. Both of you.’ He added. ‘We’ll get you guys something hot to eat and drink.’ He glanced quickly at Horace. ‘Get a fire going, please, Horace. Just a small one. We’re fairly sheltered here and I think we can risk it. And Will,’ he added, raising his voice so that it carried clearly, ‘if that bandit makes another move to get away, would you mind shooting him through the leg?’

Carney, who had taken the opportunity created by the two surprising appearances to begin crawling quietly away to the surrounding rocks, now froze where he was. Gilan threw an angry glare at him, then revised his orders.

‘On second thoughts, you do the fire, Will. Horace, tie those two up.’

The two boys moved quickly to the tasks he had set them. Satisfied that everything was in hand, Gilan removed his own cloak and wrapped it around the girl. She had covered her face with both hands and her shoulders were shaking, although she made no noise. He put his arms around her and murmured gently, reassuring her once more that she was safe. The person in the cloak hastened up to help Horace.

Gradually her silent, racking sobs diminished and her breathing became more regular. Will, engaged in heating a pot of water for a hot drink, looked at her in some surprise as he readied that she’d fallen asleep. Gilan motioned for science and said quietly: ‘She’s obviously been under a great strain. It’s best to let her sleep. You might prepare one of those excellent stews that Halt taught you to make. I’m going to go see what Horace is up to.’

#rangers apprentice #gilan davidson #will treaty #horace altman #the burning bridge #oc #rau

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thelightningthatjumpsbetween · 1 year

Text

Forty Nine

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

This is the work of the Black God.

It is the work of a desperate man, nothing more. No gods required.

Nonetheless, his powers will have to be taken before he is imprisoned. With the aid of that entity there is no telling how easily he might escape.

We are in agreement. Bring forth the King.

—----

“What are you doing?”

“Just finished puttin’ everybody to bed,” the other said in an amused voice, “Figured if you’re gonna banish yourself out here, you might want a fire.”

Ethan sat up slowly, wondering what time it was. He’d come to the parlor after dinner; it had been early. He closed the journal and rubbed his eyes again. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to…stay in here for a while? I can get us drinks.”

“Sure, Buttercup.”

See anything you like, Buttercup?

Even further back, Ethan remembered sitting on the ottoman while Maricara inspected his face, his hand, musing about his existence.

Walking in the darkness, with no notion who he is! But how can it be healed?

His haltingly amiable words to Karl. What color were your eyes, before….?

Green.

Ethan handed over the whiskey.

“I’m not the wife,” he began, and Karl chuckled almost too readily, as though he knew it would come up sooner or later. “You’re the wife.”

“No way.” Karl’s accent was never misplaced, somehow.

“Is that something she was able to do?”

“I…I guess, read? Chris today, by accident. I don’t know how that’s possible, I thought it was only a thing that happened here, or with people who were infected.”

Karl’s expression moved to a sly one, and Ethan turned to him. “Did you know he…had feelings for me?”

“Nah. I agree with him, why would it bother me?” Heisenberg managed more whiskey. Ethan considered this, and finally smiled at what he realized must be a compliment.

Ethan realized something in that moment, and he turned to Karl, wide-eyed. “Is that why you won’t talk about–!” The crystal fragment.

Karl’s expression told him he was correct. Ethan’s face fell. “Wait, was it…Miranda trying to get that information from you? Did she…possess me?”

Karl had apparently already considered this. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think that was all you, wantin’ to know. An’ Ethan. I don’t want to talk about it because…”

He should have felt excited; he felt sick.

The Duke had said that, hadn’t he?

“But you still have your cadou–?”

“Talk to me, Ethan.”

The scowl was aimed at the fire. His voice sounded like a child’s.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Maybe I won’t.”

“It’ll be okay, Papa. Remember what I told you? We’re all just energy. I’ll always be around in some way.”

Life seemed very fragile and unfair and he could only cry about it. Karl’s arm draped over him, pulling him in closer.

Maybe it would be okay, but maybe it wouldn’t.

Neither Karl nor Ethan saw the shadow of Jochen, constantly beside him, never truly dead or alive. He sauntered out after his brother, eager to watch the other work.

—------------

Ethan fell in his dream, into a dark spot of a catalogued megamycete. He knew when he sat up that she would be there, looking at him with her pale eyes and confused expression.

“Miranda,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Not really Miranda. A fragment of Miranda. The only decent part she had left, apparently.

“You! I…forget who you are. You learned how to come at will?”

“No, I’m sleeping. Dreaming.”

“I must have been thinking of you.” She giggled; it sounded just like Eva.

Ethan rubbed his face tiredly. She continued, “Still, if you can come here in a dream that would mean, maybe your powers are growing?”

“You…the other you, said something today about almost being out of time,” he said. The train station. Maybe his desire to know had brought him here. “Out of time for what?”

Ethan thought of the dragon. Their re-creation of Eveline, who seemed to have far more power than everyone else. Eveline had, after all, created her own fungal root-in Dulvey.

He scratched his head. “Could you do that? Could you be the queen?”

She looked startled. “I…am a discarded piece. A reject. I cannot even remember who I am much anymore. We all go to the voices, and then nothingness, without a complete mind to lead.”

Ethan switched to rubbing his temple.

He was crying again. Miranda-fragment put her hand on his knee; she felt less than solid, like a soft breeze. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, laughing while crying.

“What even is the Black God? I’ve heard that since I came here. Isn’t it just the Mold?”

“Miranda embraced the Black God,” Ethan said in a monotone, dragging his hand down his face. “She accepted it, or whatever it was she wrote in her notes.”

He remembered what Godric had said, about who the Black God was. We are.

He remembered Miranda eating the bloody heart as she sat on the rock island.

“Where….is it?”

Her expression of curiosity blossomed into one of awe. “You really….it’s…I…hm…don’t know. There’s so much I don’t know.”

“That makes two of us.”

Ethan closed his eyes again.

Ethan grabbed his phone and scrolled through it, looking for some sort of placation, some communication that would bring him peace, or allow him to ignore his restlessness. He found the opposite.

From Chris.

-Yeah, we all underestimated you. I’m not ashamed to say that, I’m relieved you’re as tough as you are.

-You have no idea how tough I have gotten. At this point I really should be studied.

-Don’t joke about stuff like that, Ethan…some people who get infected really are.

-I know. I just hope it’s enough to finally get rid of her.

-If anybody can do it, it’s you. You’re resilient as hell. And maybe as stubborn as she is.

-I’d say more stubborn, she just has time on me.

-Since when have I ever been anything but cautious?

-Very funny.

-You should say more ‘shit’ that’s true. I like hearing the truth.

-Don’t push your luck.

Why are you helping me?

Because I hate Miranda.

His family slept there, and Ethan might have felt guilt over once again venturing off on his own, except that the desperation he felt was louder in his soul than the guilt.

He wasn’t accepting death as he was told to, was he?

Was he doing what Miranda did?

He didn’t want Karl to die.

He didn’t want Eva to die, either.

He didn’t want to keep locking himself away.

The one that healed us.

Whatever voice that was, referred to Karl’s tornado lifting debris and rot away from the core, allowing it to ‘breathe’...to survive.

The taunt hurt, as it would be Eva who suffered. Miranda seemed to catch onto this emotion, and she tilted her head. “Eva..?”

She chuckled, not even listening to his inner dialogue.

“Worried about dear Heisenberg, are we?”

His lips moved into a tight line. “Tell me.”

He didn’t speak.

“Fuck you.”

“Is yours?” She grinned. “Do you understand?”

“What the hell does my past have to do with my question?”

“Who else has been absorbed by a…Megamycete?”

“I was,” she said proudly. “Rose was. As well as someone else you know, but not the ones you look to save.”

He threw his hands out. “I’m done with the fucking riddles. This isn’t a storybook.”

“And…if I did…Heisenberg?”

“Molding his mind, huh. Is that why he got away from you? Why he’s still away from you?”

Her smile faltered, and he lowered his head. The wind was blowing now, icy on his neck. Ethan barely felt it. He had another question.

“You have Heisenberg’s?” That didn’t sound right.

“It is a one time offer, Ethan. I suggest you choose wisely.”

Ethan was desperate to find a loophole or a solution, but not this desperate.

He knew, sensed, that she could not follow him here. Godric had put it best.

She is denied.

The Megamycete had changed.

This change is your work, Ethan.

The same voice as earlier, the one that spoke about healing. He ignored it, to examine the health of the root.

Careful now, he heard a voice mutter in a teasing, tantalizing voice as he approached. Don’t want to touch anything dangerous.

He spoke aloud. “If I…touch you. Am I going to lose my mind?”

“Human minds are so easy to lose. Like pocket change.”

“If I touch you, will it kill the root? Take more power?”

“Not so much more. I have been waiting for you. Saving energy. Sending you strength.”

He thought of moving the sarcophagus. Pinning Heisenberg.

“Why me?”

“So that we all may survive.”

He thought back to Miranda’s mind. A trickster. A ‘fickle one.’

Ethan’s heart beat so hard in his chest he thought it might burst.

“Shall we, Ethan Winters? Do you want my help?”

Alcina, he thought wildly, I need you here.

Was that even possible? His entire being, this entire chamber, coursed with energy. If it was possible, it would be here. The Black God chuckled, as if he didn’t mind entertaining.

“What is this? Am I dreaming?” Alcina hesitantly stepped toward Ethan, eyeing the Megamycete skeptically. “Is that…”

“I need your help,” he began anxiously. Her utterly bewildered look was almost humorous.

“Surely you are not going to touch that thing.”

“It’s…whatever’s inside…it’s offering to help us.”

“And you trust…THAT?”

She arched a brow. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

“You were in control of yours. How did you do it? Please. If you think I can’t do this, be honest with me, I need it right now, I need somebody to tell me the truth. I trust you to do that.”

Alcina was completely taken aback at this, but recovered quickly. She blinked rapidly, and crossed her arms, pacing and staring at the crystals that surrounded her.,

Ethan followed her pacing, watching her phase in and out of view with each pulse of the ‘heart.’

“Yeah,” he countered. “I guess I figured I’d cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Such a man,” she muttered, but didn’t move. Her eyes were on Ethan as he wiped his palms on his pants, and then stepped forward.

“The warrior King, I so loved him. So many good battles together. Then one day….ritually ripped apart from each other. I would have broken him out of there, somehow…..and they knew it.”

This was enough to satisfy Ethan. If it was good enough for Godric, it was good enough for him. It was this, or go lay back down and try not to wake up black-eyed and insane, with no memory of it.

Sleep. Rest.

I can do it.

Part of him

–NO.

Changed him.

It wanted to get up, away.

NO.

Teeth for tearing.

Ethan couldn’t argue with that one.

Up.

He didn’t want to go up. Well, he did, but not like this. Not right now. Not until he could get control of this thing.

And then what?

Well, he’d be in control, that’s what.

Was he talking to himself?

Ethan felt something pulling. Tearing. Himself. Oh, no you don’t, he thought wildly. But he watched the ground disappear from view, and then everything disappeared.

“You can do it, Ethan,” Alcina muttered under her breath, eyes on the flock.

Donna turned to stare at her older sibling. “Do what?!”

His body was elongated, different. His forehead, arms, legs dripped with black. He was barely recognizable, but it was him, all right.

After biting her lip, Eva nodded, and Alcina said haughtily, “You have two minutes.”

Heisenberg actually beamed.

He’d know that upset gaze anywhere.

Karl had, in fact, known what Ethan was made of all along.

It changed nothing for him.

This changed nothing. He’d never seen the engineer so fascinated.

Captivated.

His eyes darted between them, back up to the engineer, back between them. Part of Ethan screamed in rage that Karl had brought his children down onto a cliffside to gawk at this animal.

But he could formulate thoughts even better with this added consciousness, that only saw things as they were. Had no fear.

They weren’t gawking. And they weren’t just his children, were they? This was what Alcina had spoken about. Family.

Ethan’s eyes were still wild and reddened, but he dropped his head as if to show submission-in reality, he was exhausted, and didn’t want to fight any longer. He finally closed his eyes.

Don’t let me give up -

His eyes were still closed. “I know, a cage,” he said to Heisenberg.

“Are you kiddin’ me? THAT was somethin’ Winters, that was, holy shit!…..”

“Dada-raaahhhrweerrr!” Rosemary approved.

The wind picked up, ruffling Ethan’s hair. He was ready, finally, to sleep.

#ethan winters #karl heisenberg #wintersberg #molded ethan winters #heisenwinters #resident evil village #mother miranda #alcina dimitrescu

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doctorhelena · 2 years

Text

I posted 7,163 times in 2022

That's 397 more posts than 2021!

75 posts created (1%)

7,088 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theawkwardterrier

@mrsvilveyachke

@beradan

@emptymanuscript

@invidiosa

I tagged 1,761 of my posts in 2022

#fanart - 269 posts

#dracula daily - 248 posts

#steggy - 196 posts

#peggy carter - 78 posts

#x files - 70 posts

#fic rec - 65 posts

#captain carter - 49 posts

#my fic - 47 posts

#star trek - 38 posts

#always reblog - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#which seems to happen to a lot of female and poc actors who play characters that get maligned for getting in the way of some other favorite

My Top Posts in 2022:

“Howard, I'm going to kill you for making me wear this bloody hat.”

Happy 101st (or possibly 103rd) birthday to Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD!

Peggy Carter’s Photo Album 2/?

(Made for Peggy’s birthday event at @peggycarterbirthdaybash!)

61 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

What If... Captain Carter Had Met Bernard Stark?

67 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

68 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, but we’re not actually in public.”

“And I'm not uncomfortable. Are you?”

“Oh, dreadfully, Widow. I'm afraid I'll need you to kiss me again immediately.”

—PeggyNat Action Figure Adventures, Part 2—

Part 1

69 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Steggy Fic: Caps Out of the Bag

I’ve created something for every day of Steggy Week 2022 over at @steggyfanevents! This is for Day 1 (Inspired By).

(It is inspired by a tiny scene in Chapter 5 of Assemble by @notafangirl, who kindly gave me permission to use the idea as the starting point for a story of my own - otherwise entirely unrelated to "Assemble"!)

Summary: Captain America and Captain Carter have been successfully hiding their romantic relationship for just over a year. Until today.

Rating: PG-13

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

“That’s your phone,” Steve said into Peggy’s ear. When she didn’t move he reached across her to snag it off her nightstand, handed it to her, then flopped back down onto his own side of the bed as she blinked sleepily at the screen before reluctantly swiping at the green icon.

“Carter.”

With his enhanced hearing, Steve could hear perfectly well why she sat up, abruptly wide awake. She slid out of bed, scanned the floor, and bent down to retrieve her underpants. “Bollocks. All right, I’ll be out front in ten. See you shortly.” She hung up.

Steve eyed his own phone, still silent and dark. “You think they’re gonna call me in on this too?”

Peggy was already in the bathroom. “I expect you should be on alert,” she said, not bothering to raise her voice, “but at this point, it’s likely best for you to stay here in New York on the off chance that this is actually some sort of elaborate distraction.”

“Right, yeah,” Steve said, digging around under the covers at the bottom of the bed with his foot. “I found your bra,” he added, using his foot to pass himself the tangled bundle of cloth that was his undershorts and her lacy red brassiere.

He heard the toilet flush. “Rogers, please tell me you didn’t pick up my underwear with your toes again,” Peggy said over the sound of water running in the sink. She appeared in the doorway a moment later, toothbrush in mouth and hair in a single braid, and sighed. “Never mind. Toss it here.”

“If you don’t mind touching my feet with your bare skin, I don’t know why it bothers you when I touch your clothes with them,” said Steve mildly, lobbing the bra in her direction. She caught it, made a face at him, and stepped back into the bathroom to spit her mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, emerging shortly without the toothbrush, having somehow made the time to apply a perfect coat of lipstick. Steve smiled at that little touch that she hadn’t foregone despite her hurry, then settled back on the bed, enjoying the view while she fastened her bra.

Peggy caught his eye, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth, then sighed. “I brought the stealth suit, but I’m fairly certain I forgot to pack a sports bra. Well, it can’t be helped now. I got along perfectly well long before the invention of Lycra, and I suppose the suit itself provides a certain amount of support.” She slipped into the hallway, and Steve got up, stepped into his underwear, and padded after her. By the time he reached the entryway she was rummaging through the go bag she’d left by his apartment door, pulling out her stealth suit, the subtle Union Jack pattern just visible on the chest. Both of their suits were considerably muted now from the flashy red, white, and blue they’d worn during their respective wars.

“I was right, not a sports bra in sight,” she told him resignedly as she began to shimmy into the suit. “I need to repack this bag.”

“Food? Coffee?” he offered, although he knew she’d say no.

She shook her head. “No time. I’ll eat in the Quinjet. They’re always well-stocked with terrible energy bars and the like. No worse than K-rations, really - but not much better either.” She leaned over to kiss him, at the same time reaching past him into the closet to grab her shield in its brown leather case. “If I’m not outside my own building in five minutes, questions will be asked. I’ll update you when I can. Stay safe, darling. I love you,” she said all in a rush, picking up her go bag.

“Yeah, you too. I mean, you stay safe too. And - I love you too,” he told her, and she wasted precious seconds shooting him a brilliant smile.

He smiled as he locked the door behind her, knowing that at this hour of the morning she’d be able to take most of the distance at her full enhanced sprint without worrying about drawing attention. He checked the time. She should easily make the ten blocks to her own apartment before Natasha swung by to pick her up.

And then, since his own phone was still dark and silent, he headed back to bed, feeling really very absurdly cheerful for a man whose bedmate had very abruptly legged it out of his apartment at 3:12 in the morning.

Clearly, making sudden declarations of love at rushed moments when there was no time to discuss the matter at all must be something fundamental to Peggy Carter, no matter what universe she was from.

Read the rest on A03

73 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

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Unikitty is getting used to ruling over the planet she was given as a gift from Queen Wa'nabi when a threat thought to be lost resurfaced: Rex Dangervest. No, this isn't deja vu and the jerk who learned something last time came back just in time for another threat far bigger than him to emerge.

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Chapter One: PLOT Device 2.5: Deus Rex Machina

"There's nothing to do." Unikitty's voice broke through the silence like a bell. She looked up to her friends, who were sitting on the couch in slightly lower levels of boredom. She was lying on the floor in front of them.

"You could watch the movie with us. It's a good one." Richard turned to Unikitty and gestured with his eyes to an unoccupied part of the couch.

"I'm too bored to get up, Rick." She turned to Doctor Fox, who was closer to her but still on the couch. "Do you have a cool invention we can use to spice things up?"

"Well, I did build something called a PLOT device. We can test that, since it should make things more exciting. It's times like this that it was built for." She pulled the aforementioned device out of her lab coat and slid off the couch, sitting next to Unikitty.

"We are not using that, Doctor Fox. It caused a real mess last time." Richard's monotone voice was cut with worry.

"I have added an inhibitor chip in the device that will short when things are too exciting to avoid abuse." Doctor Fox paused for a moment at the last sentence, but soon held the device out to Unikitty.

"You worry too much, Rick! Let's trust Doctor Fox's invention." Unikitty slammed her paw on the button with way more gusto than the action deserved. The box sparked, which caused Doctor Fox to lift an eyebrow.

"See? The inhibitor already shorted. I'd have to replace it to use the device again." Doctor Fox frowned, disappointedly staring at the device.

"Why did nothing happen?" Unikitty got up and looked out the window. "Nothing out there!" She looked around her in the room. "Nothing in here!"

"It might just be exciting enough right now." Richard said, as firm as this voice could go. "Princess, I would just watch the-!" The sound of a bang cut through the air. "What was that?"

"That sounded like a ship breaking the atmosphere at hyper speed. Or the thruster of a ship exploding on entry of the exosphere. It's hard to tell from this distance." Doctor Fox looked out the window. "Whatever it is, it's going to crash land just outside of the castle grounds." She pointed to an object in the sky that looked like a comet and would have been mistaken for one if it was nighttime. "That means the PLOT device worked! Just like I knew it would!" As she said this, the ground shook from the impact.

"Doesn't that mean the pilot of that ship could be in major trouble?" Richard furrowed his eyebrows."We should go to the future crash site right away." Hawkodile was already on his way out the door.

"Let's go meet our new friend!" Unikitty zoomed out of the castle and towards a pillar of smoke and heavenbound dirt. As she got closer, the smoke and dirt had settled to reveal a sleek dark blue shuttle with lime green highlights. Something about this color scheme made the horned cat step back, ears pulled back. A gull wing door opened as she was joined by her friends.

"Crap! The engine died! Mothership! Captain to mothership! Come in!" Loud rock music blared from the inside of the ship throughout the rough voice's ranting, making anything that he had spoken difficult to hear to anyone on the outside. The music cut off as a figure in a spacesuit that matched the color scheme of the downed ship struggled to get out of the cockpit. "Eh. They'll figure it out." The pilot managed to get out of the shop on his own and dusted himself off. The group remained silent, waiting for someone to make the first move. Unikitty seemed more cautious than usual. Something felt wrong about this guy. It was then she noticed the guy was looking at them. The visor on his helmet wasn't transparent, but she could tell. "Didn't expect to see you guys today! It's been… well, never for you. Actually, that ain't exactly true either. Especially for you." The pilot pointed to Unikitty. "Hairball cannonballs. Gotta respect the creativity." The group looked at Unikitty.

"Wait. You're…!" She turned red, taking a fighting stance. "You're the guy who started Armommageddeon! What are you doing here‽"

"I was headin' back to my mothership after a joy ride around the Systar System. Then, somehow, the engine on my ship malfunctioned. Relax, Princess Furball." He leaned on the split wing of his ship, trying to look stronger and less battered than he probably was. "I hate havin' to restart relationships." He muttered under his breath, glancing for a brief moment at Richard, who looked back at him with suspicion.

Hawkodile got in front of the group and got ready to throw down. "Why should we trust anything you say?" The pilot gestured wildly at his ship.

"My ship buried itself halfway in the ground and you're asking me that? I can't even communicate with my mothership! Why would I make any of that up?" Puppycorn bounced toward the scene, a photograph in his mouth. The pilot turned his attention to the little dog. "Hey, it's the kid."

"Puppycorn, stay back! This man's dangerous!" Hawkodile tried to hold the puppy back, but he got past the bodyguard and sat between the pilot and the chimera. The pilot pat the pup's head and took off his helmet. The man's unshaved face held tired eyes and was framed by dark brown hair. His attention was on the puppy, enough so that Hawkodile used this as a distraction to get behind the human.

"You're the guy in this picture!" The puppy's blue ball tail wagged, handing the pilot a well loved picture. He took it and smiled softly.

"You found it, huh? Can you tell your sister to hear me out, kid? I get why she's angry, but-!" Before he could say more, Hawkodile grappled him. He struggled to get out of the chimera's grip, clearly in some other levels of distress as well. "Bro! Let me go!"

"You're wanted throughout the known galaxy, bro. Start explainin' yourself." Hawkodile tightened his grip, which caused the man to bite his lower lip. "How do you know us?"

"Well, the princess and I go way back. She wouldn't believe how far back. I also met you guys in a different timeline, a doomed one we had ta fix. Look at the photo the kid gave me. That should be all the proof you need." He handed the photo to Unikitty, who looked it over with curiosity.

It was of her, the pilot, and her brother, though it was unknown who took the photo. They posed in front of the Unikingdom castle's waterfall, clearly good friends somehow. Her eyes fell to the handwritten words in the white space below the picture:

We'll meet again soon, Princess Unikitty.

Rex

"You… You're that Rex?" She looked up at the man, who stopped struggling against Hawkodile's grip.

"Yeah. Took that the day I left to fix the timeline. You wouldn't remember that, though. Time travel's a jerk like that. Tell the big guy to let me go?" He glanced up to the bodyguard, who made no move to drop him.

"Temporal travel is rather difficult to believe in, but I have heard rumors it was possible. It's a science very few have gotten even close to being able to study properly." Doctor Fox gasped.

"That makes me trust him even less." Hawkodile kept his firm grip on Rex.

"Then explain how the dog has a picture of me with them when I've never been here before." Rex said flatly. "Go on. No answer is too out there here, big guy." The chimera loosened his grip to a point where Rex could wiggle out. "Exactly." He muttered about his ribs hurting before turning his attention back to Puppycorn. He reached for the pup, but was blocked by Unikitty, who was red again.

"Stay away from my brother. I know what you did to my friend." Rex rolled his eyes.

"Go talk to that friend of yours, Princess. Ask him what he thinks about me." He glanced back to his ship. "I don't have the time to get the third degree again. I'm just gonna dig my ship out and wait for a rescue from my raptors." His tone was bitter and impatient. "Then I'll be out of your hair or fur or whatever." He walked behind the ship and started to try to pull it out of the ground. The group left Rex to this herculean task, walking a short distance to discuss this development.

"I say we turn him in to the space police. If he's a wanted criminal and someone who is known to do terrible things, they would know the best place for him." Richard suggested. Hawkodile nodded in agreement.

"But he's a friend! Look at the picture!" Puppycorn showed them the picture. "He can't be that bad!" Unikitty was already heading to the castle. "Hey, sis? Where are you going?"

"I have a call to make." She headed for the lab, Puppycorn eventually catching up to her when the call was already being placed. She was speaking to a woman with blue and pink hair tied up in a long side ponytail, who was listening to her with a frown on her face.

"We heard rumors Rex was still floating around, but if you have him there… You said he acted like he already knew you and your friends?"

"Yeah. It's so weird. He said something about restarting relationships. I don't get it." Unikitty shrugged.

"I have to tell Emmet. He's going to want to know about this. I need you to watch the guy. You don't have to trust him or even let him into your castle, but it'll take us some time to get out to you. You can't let him leave the Unikingdom."

"Alright. His ship is stuck in the ground and he can't communicate with the Rexcelsior. He's stuck here anyway." Unikitty was still focused on the computer screen, so Puppycorn got closer. "What do you think of the guy?"

"He's… something else. If I didn't get to Undar in time, I don't want to know what would have happened." A door was heard opening on her end. "Hang on. That's Emmet. Let me tell him what's going on." She left the camera's view for a moment, very quickly replaced by a youthful man with neat brown hair.

"You found Rex‽ How is he? Can you put him on? I have so much to ask him!" The man seemed excited.

"He's trying to dig his ship out of the ground right now. Actually, he asked me to talk to you, Emmet." Unikitty was calm as she spoke.

"Oh? About what?" Emmet leaned closer to the camera, attentive.

"He asked me to ask you what you think of him."

"Well… he did use me to start Armommageddeon… but he was in a really dark place at the time. I think he needs a second chance. I think he wanted a second chance." Emmet nodded. "Yeah. He totally wanted one."

"What makes you think that?"

"Before he disappeared, he said he couldn't come with us, not that he didn't want to." The woman said as she joined Emmet, passing him a plate of toaster waffles.

"He went from saying he would keep trying to destroy everything to just accepting his fate. That's why I want you to watch him. There's a chance he may have no malicious intentions, but it's not something I can confirm myself unless I can get to the Unikingdom. I'll start heading there now." The woman finished talking and disconnected after Emmet waved goodbye.

"We're gettin' more visitors?" Unikitty turned to see Puppycorn, wagging his tail.

"Can you keep Rex talking? He seems to like you." She sounded nervous, but she was willing to do what she could to get answers about the mysterious man. The puppy nodded and rushed off as she went to the others to explain the situation.

The dog found Rex sitting with his back against his ship, eyes narrowed and a hand to his hip. He looked over to the pup and smiled. "Hey, kid. Come sit. I could use the company." He used his free hand to pat a spot next to him. Puppycorn sat and looked to the stranger at where his hand rested.

"Are you OK?" Puppycorn asked, pointing to Rex's side.

"It's probably just a bruise. Hit the ground pretty hard." He shrugged. "Shocked the princess is lettin' ya near me, but I'm gonna guess you're a distraction until reinforcements come."

"Reinforce-mints? Nah, but a lady with blue and pink hair is coming here." The pup grinned as Rex's face fell.

"Lucy…" Rex said breathlessly, his voice losing bravado.

"Is she a friend of yours?"

"She was someone I loved long ago. Not the same someone, this one came back to us." Puppycorn looked at his companion with confusion and Rex laughed. "The shorter answer's yes, in a way. I'm not lookin' forward to seein' her, honestly. Last time we met up wasn't fun." He shifted a little, closing his left eye as he did. "How long will she take?" He mostly asked this to himself as he settled into sitting against the ship.

"Dunno, but I hope it'll be fun this time." Puppycorn wagged his little tail.

"Me too, kid." Rex looked skyward, waiting for the telltale signs of a ship entering the atmosphere.

Night had fallen for a while by the time a ship that looked like a stingray landed nearby. He saw the ship and looked down at the sleeping puppy. He preferred it this way: Puppycorn didn't need to see things go down. Lucy walked up to Rex and held out her hand to help him up. They walked to her ship, Rex limping a little as he did. After the two had started talking, Puppycorn woke up and moved closer, curious about the two strange people.

"... realize how long we've been looking for you, Rex?" The woman said shortly. Her arms were folded.

"Lucy, I've… I didn't know you guys were lookin' for me." He leaned against the ship but wasn't holding his side. His voice was low and quiet, like he was trying to not wake someone up. "Look, I had some soulsearchin' ta do when ya left Undar. Spent a lot of time doin' that."

"Soulsearching? How long was that going to take you, Rex? We were worried about you. You could have said something." She shook her head. "Did you think about what we said that night?"

"That was why I was soulsearching…. and you're right. I gotta change." Lucy let her arms loosen a little. "This won't make any sense, but I've been all over the Unikingdom in a different timeline. I think I can see myself having a future here." Rex's voice lost all roughness at this point.

"But we can get you real help on Syspocalypstar. We want to give you that second chance, Rex. I don't think Unikitty's kingdom is where you can get what you need." She looked at Rex's side for the briefest of moments. "You said you weren't anywhere near this planet when you crashed into it. I think one of Unikitty's friends is why. Stuff like that happens all the time. Can you handle that?"

"I'm usually the one causing the chaos. I'm also a big boy, Lucy. I'll be fine."

"I don't know. Like I said, you need help. You can't just start running from your problems like that'll solve it better than what you've already done. Because you and I both know it won't. I'm trying to understand your logic, but you can't be sure this timeline is the same as the last one you found yourself in."

"You gotta let him stay. He needs to take this." The two of them turned to look at Puppycorn, who held the paradoxical photograph out to Lucy, who took it. She looked at it for a while, holding it in her hands.

"You seem… uncharacteristically happy in this photo, Rex. What's the story behind this?" Lucy waved the polaroid.

"I took it in the other timeline. It looks like only the setting behind us changed, which proves my point. Wouldn't you agree?" Rex looked over to the puppy, who's tail wagged with anticipation.

"I don't agree, but I'm not going to argue it. I still say you need help and not the kind of help that you'll find here." She handed the photo back to Puppycorn. "If you need to tap out at any time or if you realize that this isn't working, you know where we are and I know Emmet would be happy to let you stay with him at our place. I'm sure you'll park the Rexcelsior just within this planet's orbit eventually, so you'll have a way to get off planet. Try not to scare the people here too much." She turned to get into her ship. "I'll tell Unikitty to tell her bodyguard to ease up. The rest is up to you, Rex. You want to change. Make an effort. I know you have it in you." Rex pulled the dog back far enough for Lucy to take off without another word. He watched the trail of smoke and exhaust form and fade in the sky.

"What kind of help did she mean?" Puppycorn broke the silence.

"Don't worry about that." He hit the side of his ship and it broke into parts. Before the puppy's eyes, Rex built a smallish metallic tent-like structure. "You should probably get some sleep, kid." He crawled into the tent and tried to signal to the Rexcelsior once more. The puppy ran into the castle to get some sleep.

#the newspaper isn't antiquated •||• written works #ao3 fanfic #the lego movie #lego movie fanfiction #Unikitty fanfiction

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