#the moment charles is anything but shes like go the fuck away disappear you Creature

[barnbridges]

my favorite thing is the richard moment where he's like "he didnt like women. didnt enjoy their company. marion, his self professed raison detre was merely tolerated as a concubine." and then. marion picks up charles basically by the skin off the back of his neck like a wet drunken cat. and dismisses him the moment he shows any sort of actual feelings. truly a match made...somewhere.

[terresdebrume]

Messrs Payne & Rowland's Adventuring Agency Part 1: The arrival of young Crystal - 16 Yes this is officially going to be a series eventually *shoves other WIPs under the table* This is fine and I am managing my workload very well

For a long, tense moment, Crystal stares at the halved size of the creature, her breath caught in her throat, squinting hard at the darkness beyond it. She can't make out anything past it, even as she lowers her hand and lets her eyes get reacquainted with the darkness of the night, so that she almost jumps when Charles emerges from the shadow as if by magic.

"Where's the girl?" she asks, as quiet as she can.

"Right here," Charles says, pointing down at a lump at his side.

Lifting her hand again, Crystal takes a look, and has to slap a hand over her mouth to stop herself from shouting. There, poking out from Charles' bag, is a little girl: round cheeks, eyes closed, her kinky dark hair haloing around her head like a cloud. Her arms hang limply from Charles' bag, her head resting on her shoulder, her mouth slightly open--and then there's nothing but the canvas of the bag, its bottom undisturbed by the child stored in it.

"You said--" Crystal starts, but Mr. Payne's cuts her off with a sharp gesture of the hand.

"It is a magic bag," he hisses.

"She'd suffocate if I put her in too long," Charles explains, "but in a pinch that might be safer than leaving her out--and that way she doesn't weigh anything."

"Very clever, Mr. Rowland," Mr. Payne says with the closest thing to a smile Crystal has seen on his face so far, accepting the bag from Charles without protest. "Now, let us leave before that thing wakes up."

Crystal, with water almost up to her knees, nods and turns to the cliff, one hand against the rock to keep herself upright. She hasn't taken two steps before a larger rock shifts under her and she stumbles, clanging against the rock by her side before she falls into the water with a surprised shout.

She hears the creature roar before she reemerges, seeing Becky's head disappear in the bag seconds before she has to throw herself down again, a long line of blinding light hurtling towards her. She doesn't dodge it entirely, and she's seizing with pain before she hits the water. She almost gasps with it when she goes under, and coughing and spluttering even as Mr. Payne's voice shouts something she doesn't understand, and Charles splashes towards the creature at full speed.

Crystal watches him hack at the creature three times in rapid succession, so fast she almost can't follow the movement--his rapier is like quicksilver in the low light, and she thinks she sees blood spring forth from the wounds, only for Charles to step back with a strained shout.

"Don't touch it!" he says, "It'll shock you!"

Crystal hesitates. She has nothing but her mace with her, she can't fucking throw that! The light from her palm won't help, but even as she races backwards she can't think of anything else, can't make her legs walk properly, can't quite breathe--there's a buzzing in her head, a chorus of voices hissing in her mind, fighting with one another to be heard, and as she tries to shove them out the creature in the air gives a great cry and rushes away from them with a terrifying screech.

"Run!" Charles orders, and Crystal obeys immediately, feeling like her heart is in her throat.

Mr. Payne catches up with her almost immediately, pushing hard at her back. Crystal does her best to quicken the pace, but can't help turning around when there is the sound of impact, and a muffled shout from behind. The creature has Charles by the shoulder, shoving him towards the cliff and only missing because he manages to scratch it in the nose with a dagger. He falls to the water, trying to run, and is slapped backward by the creature's powerful tail.

"Charles!" She shouts, but Mr. Payne doesn't let her stop.

"He knows his job!" He shouts in her ear. "Get to land, it won't follow us up!"

[prolestariwrites]

Open For Me [2]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/Reader Tags: Explicit sexual content, First time, First love, Violence, Death, Implied dubcon, Implied drug-induced sex Rating: M Part: 2 of 5

Summary: Vergil's life has been difficult as far back as he can remember, until he meets a young woman who saves his life. Can she save it again when he learns the truth of who he is, and bring him back from a dark and dangerous fate? A five-part story of pre- and post-canon Vergil.

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What matters most is how well you walk through the fire. —Charles Bukowski

It is morning when you open your eyes. You smile to see Vergil still sleeping, and you slide over to lay against his back, pressing your forehead between his shoulder blades as you take in his warmth.

It's quiet, so the lady upstairs must be out since when she's home her heavy footsteps clomp back and forth. Vergil jokes that she must walk a mile a day, and you're inclined to agree, although if that is the worst thing you have to deal with in this apartment you'll take it.

You can feel him starting to wake up, so you kiss his neck, trailing a line down his spine. When you reach his lower back he jumps a bit, and you chuckle against the ticklish part, doing it again. Vergil rolls over with a yawn, his arm reaching for you as you look up. "What are you doing?" he asks gruffly.

"Saying good morning." You crawl upwards and straddle his lap, smiling down at him just like you had the first time, over a year ago. Vergil's mouth turns up in one corner, and you return his smirk as his hands trail along your thighs.

"Good morning," he replies, before grabbing your arm and yanking you down on top of him.

Vergil covers your laugh with his kiss, his hand tight in your hair. You brace yourself on his shoulders as his other hand presses to your backside, and you rock as you feel his erection growing under the covers. He has been more like this lately, everything fiercer, his touch and kiss aggressive. Something is changing but you can't pinpoint it, so you allow him to take the lead as he pulls your tank top up and rolls you over.

His mouth traces down your neck as he reaches your chest, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples until they harden. "Don't tease," you scold, and Vergil gives you another smirk, his eyes dark and focused on you as he gives one a long lick. You grab his hair and tug, but he won't be moved, and he teases your flesh with his tongue until you are squirming. "Stop," you moan.

"You want me to stop?" he chuckles, kneeling up and tugging his sweatpants down.

"You can be such a jerk sometimes." You lean up on your elbows, licking your lips as you watch him reach inside the waistband and pull his cock free, stroking himself for a moment. Then he reaches over to the table and fishes out a condom, opening it quickly and rolling it on before he leans down to cage you in with his body.

"Open wide, my sweet," he murmurs.

You pull your knees up and open as he sinks into you. Your head rolls back at the sensation of him filling you, stretching you, until his hips are flush with your thighs. Vergil groans as he pulls back, and then he thrusts forward again, and again, until his movements are steady and hard and he is panting with the wet slap of your bodies. The pendant sways with his movements, tapping against his chest that strains with his efforts and flushes up towards his neck. Your hands reach for his hips, holding on tightly as you let him fuck you. This is how it has been, since that first time months and months ago when he took your virginity with a breathless whisper in the quiet, still house, your parents sleeping downstairs.

He knows just what to do, and it isn't long before the pulsing starts. You give a gasp as you tremble with your orgasm, and Vergil pumps his hips quickly before stilling, his grunt the only indication that he's found his own end. Collapsing back on the bed, you sigh as he pulls out, watching with a yawn as he removes the condom and ties it off before dumping it into the trash.

You roll to your side with a smile, wondering about round two, but he is already grabbing his pants off of the floor. "Are you going out?" you ask.

"Yeah. I'm meeting someone."

At that you sit up and tug your shirt back in place. "Who?"

Vergil hesitates before answering, "He knows something about my parents."

"Your parents?" Confusion swirls a bit as you frown at his back. "What are you talking about?"

You watch as he takes a minute to finish dressing, before finally turning towards you. But Vergil won't meet your eyes as he explains, "My parents were killed when I was only eight. There is some… mystery about what happened to them."

"Like an unsolved case?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "Not exactly. It's hard to explain." He checks the clock on the bedside table before moving to grab his coat. "I'll be back tonight."

"Okay," you answer as the door clicks shut.

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The sun is setting, but Vergil does not move from the table by the window in the coffee shop. Arkham had left over an hour ago, but there is much to think about, to consider. He lifts the paper cup and takes a sip, barely tasting the slightly bitter coffee as he watches people walk up and down the street.

All of them are so oblivious. Beneath their feet is a portal to another world, filled with creatures made of nightmares. Vergil is on a personal basis with the things, ever since they had killed his mother and brother and nearly him, leaving him for dead in the grass outside his childhood home.

He chuckles under his breath. It's not funny, never was. But Vergil can appreciate the sick sense of irony that the one who saved humanity from the demon realm could not save his own family. Sparda had been gone well over a year, a time that was fuzzy with whispered questions and more than a few tears from his mother. The confusion is what is most potent from those memories that only surface when he concentrates hard. What had been warm and safe had turned to strain, and even now he can taste the tension that marred their lives when his father disappeared.

Maybe it's just the coffee, though. Vergil finishes it off as the waitress comes over, eyes rolling and a deep sigh escaping her as she pops one hand on a hip. "You done?" she asks.

Vergil takes his time draining his cup, even after the last drops had already slid down his throat, pretending to still drink. Finally he peers up at her annoyed face and sets the cup down. "Yes," he answers.

The girl gives another eye roll and takes the cup. "We're closing soon," she says pointedly.

"Good to know." They have a bit of a stare-off before she huffs away.

Vergil turns to stare out the window again. He wonders what Dante is doing: his younger brother that he loved as fiercely as he drove him mad. As far back as he can remember, Dante had been a part of him, and there is very little of his childhood that didn't involve the curious and outgoing boy in some way. To casual outsiders, the handful of neighbors who were friendly with their family and the various servants that had lived in their home on occasion, the boys were opposites despite being twins.

But that had been wrong. He and Dante had been the same, the same ambition, the same puffed-up sense of pride, what his mother referred to as the "Sparda" in them. It had seemed like a joke to Vergil when he was little to think of his warm and quiet father anything at all like them at their wildest, although now that he understands the full truth of who his father had been and what he had done, he sees the wisdom in his mother's assessment.

"Dante," he whispers. They are not so much opposites as complements of one another, completing some missing part, as if Dante had taken all the bravado and he had absorbed all the introspection in the womb. The energetic Dante with his penchant for aggression had seemed the opposite of the thoughtful Vergil with his perfectionist tendencies, when actually Vergil was the only one who understood Dante's jokes, and Dante was the only one who could keep up with Vergil's ideas.

Which is why the information Arkham had brought is so distressing. At first he hadn't believed it could be Dante, remembering the house engulfed in flames, the heat on his cheeks and the ash that choked the air. They had been inside, no way to escape. Dante was dead and gone.

But the face that was almost his own had stared back at him from the photograph. The silver hair that everyone had exclaimed over when they were two little boys dressed the same was unmistakable. And the red pendant, the twin of his own, made it all reality.

Arkham had left him a copy of the photographs, and Vergil pulls them out to lay neatly on the table. He snorts to himself to see that Dante had gotten no better at dressing himself, remembering how he would run out of the house barely dressed sometimes, or appear for dinner with streaks of dirt up his arms. Vergil would stand and smirk as their mother fussed over the state of his hair or why he would put on an orange shirt with red pants, enjoying the faces Dante would make as she licked her finger and rubbed a spot from his cheek.

He rents a room in Red Grave City, Arkham had told him. Goes by the name Tony. Does odd jobs around to make money. Other than that, he keeps to himself.

Of course he would; they had to, and Vergil wonders if he encounters demons as often as he does. Vergil is so full of questions now: who is he, where has he been, what has he been doing all this time? What did he eat those first weeks without Mother? Did he have a coat in the winter? What did he do with his blood-stained clothes after fighting off another pack of demons?

The questions make him uncomfortable. Vergil isn't sure if he wants the answers, truly. He sorts through the pictures, thinking of his teenage years that were marred with hunger and violence, until he met a girl in a community center. It is almost tragic that he has finally settled into a life he can handle, only for his brother to crash into it the way he would crash into his bedroom in the morning.

He will go and see Dante, though, because there is one question he must know: how he escaped. The fire had been so consuming, there was no way he could have gotten out in time. That sensation that pulses under Vergil's skin when he thinks about the demons starts to make him itch as he lifts a photograph and studies it closely. There was a woman who cared for him, Arkham had said. Was that Mother? Did she take him and escape the house with the one twin she could find, could save, the twin that was her favorite?

Vergil curses and shakes his head. That's the real question, isn't it? For all the smirking and teasing, Dante needed more care, and Vergil had watched his parents fuss over him in ways they never needed to with Vergil. Vergil was the responsible one, the trusted one, older, smarter, better at everything, and he had to be, didn't he? Because Eva had placed her hands on his shoulders and with a teary smile had told him he was the man of the house now, and he had to protect his brother, and Vergil always took his role very, very seriously. It would make sense that she had collected Dante and ran, leaving Vergil to fight on his own, to live on the streets. Vergil could handle it. Vergil can handle anything.

Quickly he gathers the photographs and stuffs them into his coat pocket. He heads to the street, weaving through the people who crowd the sidewalks, his senses alert. Even though you had shared an apartment for a year now, Vergil is still used to being on guard.

He swings towards the bank on 31st. The ATM machine there has questionable security, and he lifts his hood to hide his face as he steps up and begins to press the buttons. There is a combination he had discovered that will spit out a hundred dollars, some glitch in the coding that Vergil had worked out after watching the guard who restocks the machine every morning at five a.m. It's an easy way to get money now, better than pickpocketing anyway, and with his five twenties folded in his pocket he slips down an alley to catch a bus home on the next corner.

In the dark of the alley, he feels the burn on his neck, the one he has not felt in a year, ever since you had left together and settled in blissful anonymity in a new city. The one that he had started to hope he would not feel again.

The one that reminds him of the fire.

The air goes quiet as his footsteps stop, and he waits for them to appear, his eyes sharp on the shadows. Moving to the city had shaken them off of his trail for quite a while this time, but it is inevitable that they would find him again.

Briefly he thinks of you, and what you will say when you see his blood-soaked clothes. He could run, but that would just leave them to another day, and if they followed his trail and found you…

It isn't worth the risk. The only good thing about this is how far he is from the apartment, knowing that at least that will keep you safe.

Vergil reaches into his jacket and pulls out a switchblade, flicking his wrist as the blade makes a soft click into place. "Come on," he mutters, impatient to get this over with.

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His words stay on your mind the entire day, even through the six-hour shift you work at the grocery store. Vergil has never talked about his past, ever, except to say he had no family. Never a mention of parents being killed, certainly.

Your heart aches a bit, partly at knowing his truth, and partly that he never told you before. You had been living together for about a year now, just the two of you sharing everything. At least, you thought you had shared everything. But the more you think about it, the more you realize he tells you nothing of substance. He's heard all about your upbringing with a single mom and overly strict grandmother, and when your grandmother died (to your relief, really), her boyfriend had moved in. They had insisted you call him dad even though he wasn't, and any questions about who your dad really was had been met with some vague variation of "just some asshole" and a wave of your mother's hand.

You had shared pictures, memories good and bad, embarrassing stories. And Vergil had too, at least seemed to… but you don't know how long he had been on the streets. You don't know what he really gets up to during the day, and how he had kept himself alive and fed and clothed those years. It wasn't drugs, that much you knew; but he always has clothes and cash to cover rent and groceries, and you are ashamed to admit you don't want to ask more questions. And there are other odd things: occasional rips in his clothes, his complete lack of friends, the pendant he wears at all times like an obsession, all of it becoming so glaringly obvious that you can't ignore the mystery anymore.

Mind made up to finally ask and make him tell you some things, you are fixing some ramen when he gets home. The greeting dies on your lips when you see that he is covered in bruises and blood, quickly turning off the burner as you hurry over. "Vergil! What the hell happened?" you cry, eyes roaming over the puffy lip and the gash on his brow.

"Nothing," he answers, pushing past you. You follow him to the kitchenette, where he runs the water and grabs some paper towels. In a shocked silence, you watch as he cleans the blood away, leaving his skin pink and puffy, before working on his hands. A sob catches in your throat when he removes his coat and you see his fingers are covered in scrapes and his arms are bruised.

"Don't tell me it's nothing," you hiss. "Did you get jumped?"

"Something like that."

"Did they get anything?"

"No."

Your eyes blink away tears rapidly. "What about… do you need a doctor? Your eye looks bad."

"I'll be fine."

"No, no! Vergil, you're hurt, at least let me look at it!"

He protests as you turn him, reaching up to cradle his face and pull it down closer to see. But then you gasp, because the gash you know you saw—you know you saw not a minute ago—is now no more than a scrape over his eyebrow. Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open as it slowly disappears, as if the skin is gluing itself together. His lip is also shrinking, the dark red color fading back into its usual flesh-toned hue and the bruising surrounding it growing smaller and smaller.

You take a step back, hitting the counter. "What?" It's all you can manage as the word catches in your throat.

He takes a deep breath. "I'm fine," he says.

The room seems to swim, and you realize that there are tears brimming. Vergil walks away, and you watch him move through the apartment. "I need to go for a few days. The guy I met, Arkham, he has information on my brother. I'm going to track him down, but it's all the way in Red Grave City, and that means—"

"Stop!" It comes out as a cry, a sound you haven't heard your voice make since you were a kid. But it does the trick, and Vergil freezes. You see only his back, just like this morning, until he finally stuffs a shirt into his bag and turns. Again he won't meet your eyes, and your fingers tremble as you say, "I don't understand."

"I'll explain it all when I get back. I promise."

The air is heavy, his words hanging between you, and for the first time since you've met, you suspect Vergil is lying. Finally he walks over to you, and you gasp as you see his face and neck and arms are perfectly healed as if nothing had happened. He presses his smooth palm to your cheek and leans in with a kiss that is firm and hot but gives no comfort. "I'll be back in a few days," he says, not waiting for you to say goodbye when he leaves.

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 73

“It's my pleasure, I'm glad I could be there for you..” he put his hand over hers, he so wanted to shuffle real close to her and kiss those plump, gorgeous lips again “there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, you know that” he whispered. She wanted to say so much but somehow the words didn't seem to come that easily, “you have a beautiful house” she awkwardly pulled back because if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he was going to kiss her. Goddamn, spoil the moment why don't you? “Uh yeah, it's alright I guess, anyway, do you want coffee?” he sighed, “yes please” he shot up from his seat like an arrow from a bow, finally something to do to distract him from that wonderful creature sitting next to him in his kitchen, “what am I gonna do, Jared?” there was that infinite sadness in her voice again. “Well, you're staying here to catch your breath for as long as you want” stay for good that would be even better, let me win you back “Charles called me right before you walked in..there's no change in your Dad's condition I'm afraid, they're keeping him sedated”. Harper bit her lip and felt her own heart ache “oh..” she swallowed hard and suddenly a tear trickled down her face, she just couldn't hold back any longer, the shock was wearing off “he's gonna die, isn't he?..he's gonna die and it's all my fault” she choked on her words. “I shouldn't have made that stupid painting”. His own heart pounded in his throat “Heyheyhey, don't say that, none of this is your fault, nobody's gets a heart attack just by looking at a painting, your father's probably had a heart condition for a long time, didn't your mother say that they flew in last night? It could have been anything that caused him to have an attack, could have been the stress at the airport, the flight..or being stressed out from having to give a speech at the UN” oh fuck this, she's crying, he put her cup of coffee down on the counter in front of her and pulled her head against his chest, caressing her hair. “You did nothing wrong, Harper, nothing!” he breathed in her hair before he kissed the top of her head, “why did..they even come? I didn't invite them..why can't they just leave me alone?..and why is this hurting so bad?” she sniffed uncontrollably, feeling her warm breath caressing his chest through his shirt had the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Charles told me he invited them, he genuinely thought he was doing the right thing..maybe he wanted to bring you all closer again..and the reason you're hurting so much is because you still love your parents, even after all the horrible things they did to you, they did you wrong, babe, not the other way around” his words only made her cry harder “you did nothing wrong, ok? You just followed your heart and chased your dreams and that's one of the reasons I fell for you hook, line and sinker”.

Steph's cough put both of their feet back on the ground “well that sure looks like a cosy breakfast” clearly annoyed with the sight of her part-time lover and his..what was she actually to him? She'd never seen him this close with any of his friends before. “Could you give us a minute, Steph?” he calmly said without even turning his head to look at her but it was Harper who broke their bodily contact, “no, it's ok, I don't know what came over me, all this stupid crying has got to stop, anyway, I'll go take my coffee up in my room, give you guys some room”. She gave them both a sad smile and left the room with her cup, ok, back up to her room? I need some air, front door no, ok I'll just go in here, she disappeared inside the huge living room and was drawn to the huge windows looking out over a beautiful garden with a huge pool. Slowly she pulled open the window and stepped outside into the fresh morning air, sipping her coffee she strolled around the garden, this was such a magical place..it actually reminded her of the garden her parents had when she was growing up..was her youth officially over? Did your childhood die when one of your parents died? were the memories buried along with them? Waves of a heated argument drifted out to her and those were really thick walls, uh-oh..wherever she went trouble would always follow her, and the last thing she wanted was to cause Jared any trouble, he had been so kind to her. How cruel and sobering was it to have your ex be the only friend you seemed to have left in this world? With an ache in her heart she sat down on a bench, staring at the faint rippling of the pool water she sipped her coffee, last night's film rolling in her head. Thank god, she was still here, when he couldn't find her in her room he had gotten a bit panicky but instantly felt relieved when he found her in his garden, lost in her thoughts, “hey” he softly said as he walked up to her but she didn't even seem to notice him. “Coco?” hearing her name startled her and half of her coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug “Oh..I'm sorry, I'm so sorry” rattled she looked at him and then at the wet mug in her hands “I made a mess, I'll clean it up” she stammered. “Chill, it's just coffee” putting his hand on her arm he could feel her shiver “you were miles away” and sat down next to her taking the cup out of her hands and put it down on the ground. “Sorry..I..are you ok?” she squinted her eyes checking out the expression on his face, she could always read him like a book, “you guys had an argument? Listen, Jay, I don't want to cause trouble between you two”. Jared stretched his legs and looked at his hands resting on his thighs “we did..” he sighed, “where is she? Maybe I should go talk to her and explain..I really don't want to break up a happy home..I should have known I was gonna cause trouble again” but before she could get up he stopped her. “Harper, stop..just stop! And will you look at me?” he cupped her chin and turned her head so she had to look into his eyes “You are not causing trouble, alright? You're not breaking up anything, because Steph and I are not a couple”.

”Oh..” she felt her heart do a little jump in her chest “but I thought..so if you're not a couple, you're something else then..d'you know what? It's really none of my business” no it really wasn't, I don't want to know, I split up with you one time too many “I guess I still have to get used to the fact that we're actually friends now”. Hell yes it's your business, if you would only give me a chance to make right what I did wrong between us, say it, go on, just tell her, clear the air between the two of you “Steph and I..we're..we were..nothing at all..she was a distraction..I guess you can talk from experience with that..Nathan” he almost puked his name. “Experience?..with Nathan?..Oh come on Jay, we've never even kissed, let alone sleep together” she sighed exasperated, how many more times did she need to explain? Every time he heard her say it, it was music to his ears. His phone ringing made her flinch, reluctantly he broke eye contact and connected the call “I'm sorry, who am I talking to?” he couldn't understand the man with the heavy Italian accent, “Arno..ah..hold on” the minute he said the name out loud, her head shot up and she reached for his phone so he instantly handed it over. “Pronto, Arno?! Sei davvero tu? Come mi hai trovato?” she shot up from the bench and started pacing criss cross through the garden like she had lost all direction, he watched her clutch her heart and look at the sky, then start pacing again, her hand covering her mouth. Jared got up, I'll go get her some more coffee, she'll probably need it after that call and give her some privacy.

Walking back into the garden, she sat on the bench again, his phone next to her, head hung low, her arms folded across her head like she was bracing for a heavy weight to fall down on her head. “Who was that?” he tried to get her attention holding the steaming cup in front of her, slowly she lifted her head, her eyes still wet with tears shocked him, “Arno..my eldest brother” sniffing she took the cup from him. “Any news about your Dad?” he caressed her hair as she nodded “yeah, they were told to prepare for the worst”, he saw the pain tear right through her just saying the words out loud, “oh babe..I'm so sorry” all he could do was be there for her now. He sat down and pulled her in his arms, how long had it been since someone actually held her? Too long, so the kindness of his touch made the tears roll freely, she could finally let go “My father's gonna die..” she kept repeating through her tears, he didn't confirm or deny, he just let her come to terms with the fact in her own way, her mantra had him choking up as well and his own silent tears threatened to roll as well, but he held them in, she needed him to be a rock and protect her from all the trouble that was about to go down, if her father actually died, it was only a matter of time before the newspapers would use her pain to fill up their pages and would leave no stone unturned to try and break her career and reputation. “I'll keep you safe, I'm not gonna let them hurt you anymore” the vibration of his voice in his chest she was plastered against had her close her eyes and hold on to him even tighter.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Steph staring at them in their warm embrace, oh god no “all nice and cosy I see? And you have the guts to tell me you're not fucking?” she stomped over to them, causing Harper to pull out of their embrace. Annoyed Jared got up “I told you to leave Steph, what are you doing back here?” he spat the words at her, “Oh I don't know” she sarcastically spat back with a heavy eyeroll “I thought maybe we could still talk this through” they were almost nose to nose now “you and I go back a while Jared, you and I both know that this was never about just some fun nights with crazy, mindblowing sex”. Harper couldn't bear to listen to this any longer and wanted to walk away “where do you think you're going? Running again when things get a bit rough? Yeah, Jared told me all about you, weren't you the one who fucked him over so many times? Always stirring up shit and then running away the minute you get held responsible? I don't think I need to remind you of last night? Your Dad gets a heartattack in NY beause of you and where are you? In frikkin' LA trying to wreck another home” Steph blew up leaving Harper completely speechless. Jared flew forward, pushing Steph back in no friendly manner “Shut up Steph! you get the fuck off of my property right now and you stay away” he shouted in her face. Harper touched his arm “stop both of you, just stop! I can't take it anymore, and I don't think your neighbours can either, I'm going in..I'm sorry, I just can't deal with this right now” and started walking away. Harper's heart was hammering in her chest, it was just too much, she just couldn't find any peace, wherever she was trouble would always rear its' ugly head, she quickly headed into the kitchen when she heard Jared and Steph enter the living room again still shouting at each other. She needed to call Arno..her phone..where was it?..upstairs in her room..she just needed to hear a familiar voice..he was her only connection..maybe she was not thinking straight or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her right now but he had sounded so calm and warm. Slipping out of the kitchen and up the stairs she stopped in her tracks when she heard Jared swear and curse “you want the truth? You can't handle the truth..”, she didn't want to eavesdrop but what followed had her sit down on the stairs. “Ok, if honesty's what you want, then that's what you'll get..I'm not in love with you..I never was..you were just a distraction, nothing more..there's only one woman for me, hell, I even imagined it was her when we were having sex, I don't give a flying fuck about you or anyone else..that's the only truth I can give you! I only love Harper and I'll always love her for as long as I live, she's all I want, just her, nobody else..” there, he said it, his heart ached knowing that his love would never be reciprocated, not after everything he had put her through. “It's always been you, Jared..I love you too” what? Slowly he turned to see Harper stand there in the doorway “I love you, Jared”.

[welcome-to-raven-wood]

Officer Rainecloud v.s. Mafia Universo (how the rivalry began part two)

“HEY!”

The man keeps walking, ignoring me, I growl a bit.

“Sir, can I have your attention?!”

The man pauses, I wait for a moment and see him continue walking. I sigh and pull out my badge...

“Sir you are under arrest for interrogation purposes... Freeze.”

The man takes off, I quickly follow after him. Another reason to arrest him, I was hoping he would run off. I start to lose sight of him but quickly teleport in an alleyway just ahead of him and jump out if front of him, he falls back and trips over himself. I freeze up a bit, Jason did that a lot... His hat fell off and he quickly covers his face, I go over and pull his arm away and freeze. My blood ran cold, I saw Jason staring back at me, his hair covering his eye and his hair is still blue. He quickly shoves me away and quickly gets up; worry written all over his face.

“W-Why did you- How did you- Oh God the boss is going to kill me...”

He is shaking slightly. I quickly shake my head, this has to be a dream, I'm drunk after all... but there he is, after all of these years... he is still here but, different... He carefully looks around before quickly pulls me close, into a hug. I tense up a bit, it has been so long since someone has hugged me...

“R-Raine I missed you... I-... please don’t tell anyone, I can get in serious trouble for getting noticed or even interacting with you... I'm not supposed to.”

Tears formed in his eye; I quickly hug him back.

“I promise J... I don’t want you getting hurt. “

My eyes widen and I quickly pull away.

“W-What about Charles?! I-Is he okay too?! D-Did anything happen between you two?! I’m just worried... I have been for years...”

Jason looks away sadly; he goes to say something but freezes up.

“I-I can’t tell you... I-I'm sorry, it would put both me and you along with Phizzy in danger...”

“P-Phizzy, please tell me she is okay...”

Phizzy was the little girl Jason and Charles adopted right before they disappeared... Jason continued to avoid eye contact.

“I can’t tell you... I'm sorry...”

I sigh, completely understanding. He turns and walks off, but leaves his hat behind. I pick it up and flip it over to look inside, nothing, I look for any hidden pockets, I find one. I pull out a photograph and my heart skips a beat, it was the only photograph of me, Jason, Charles, and Brandon all together. I quickly wipe away my tears and look at the photograph...

It was all of us being, well, all of us being weird together in front of the rock. The rock pile to be exact, we went there every day, it was our hideout... we managed to scrounge up enough money to pay for a photographer to take the picture. We could only afford one but we all agreed to let Jason keep it because of his current home situation and his dad... We all signed it together and agreed to never split apart... how ironic...

I tuck the photo back in its place and place the hat in my coat. I’m not losing this... I decide to head back to the bar...

“You alright? Anyone behind bars or in handcuffs?”

Brandon asked me after I sat down again, I didn’t touch my drink, I felt sick thinking about what could have happened behind the scenes...

“R-Raine...”

I tense up.

“I’m fine, the guy got away...”

Brandon shoots me a funny look.

“Got away? You never let them go too far, plus I know you can teleport as well...”

“I tripped...”

“That is bullshit, there is no way-”

“I SAID, I tripped!”

I was getting aggravated...

“Sorry...”

Brandon quickly goes back to polishing a glass... I sigh and pay for my drinks.

“Keep the change... and any information you have been hiding from me...”

Brandon stops. His eyes widen a bit and he looks at me.

“What are you talking about-”

“J! That’s who!!! Who else has been here?! Why didn’t you fucking tell me dammit?!?!”

He freezes up.

“Lower your damn voice, I didn’t know he even was still alive dammit, when he disappeared, I lost all hope of him returning... So back off my damn back and quit breathing down my damn neck about it because I didn’t know.”

His tone was dark; he was pissed at me.

“Now get the hell out of my damn bar for the night, I’m not in the mood to put up with your shit.”

That struck deep, I started getting aggravated and I got up and walked out of the bar... The air was colder and damper than before; the fog was thicker. I start walking back to the station...

Jason’s POV:

I can’t stop worrying about what will happen... I know there is a slight chance I might get away with but the boss has eyes everywhere… I finally reach the back of the café and knock in that damn pattern that was burned into my mind. The door swings open and I step inside. I sigh and walk down the concrete hallway, looking at the doors and pathways looking for my door.

I finally spot it, the one with the small burn marks by the handle from Phizzy, I smile at the thought of her. I reach for the door handle but I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder. I tense up, recognizing it was Charles, he turns me and pins me against the wall, his eyes glowing and he was grinning sinisterly.

“W-what did I do this time?”

His grin widens and I shudder.

“You know the boss watches you carefully, right~?”

My eye widens, I look into his eyes. All I see is a cold glow staring back at me, no longer a spark or a warm light that I used to stare into, no longer that fire I fell in love with, the spark died and all that was left was some heartless creature staring into my soul.

“Y-yeah, I am aware…”

He grins,

“Then you know exactly what you did, and the boss says it is about time something sets you straight.”

My heart stops, what is he going to do?! Who is he going to hurt?! My heart races and my thoughts swimming in my head trying to come up with an idea of what the plan is.

“W-what are you even- “

Charles puts a finger against my lip to silence me, I stop…

“The Boss is going to handle her personally, getting caught by an officer is one thing but getting spotted by her is another~”

He chuckles and lets go of my coat, which he was using to hold me up to his height, I drop to the ground and try to stay standing.

“Oh yeah, Boss wanted to let me give you this~”

He grabs my face and takes his nail and digs it slowly into my cheek and drags it slowly across my face. I scream in pain as my skin feels like it is on fire while blood drips down my face. He lets me go and I clutch the side of my face in pain, he walks off and I quickly open my door and step into my room. Phizzy, thankfully, was taking a nap. I go over to my desk and pull out some bandages and some other things and begin to clean the new cut on the side of my face…

After I finally bandage it up and throw away a few things and put the rest away. I sit on my bed and sigh, this place never felt like home… more like a damn prison if anything.

“Please be careful Raine…”

I mutter under my breath, saying a silent prayer for her safety hoping she will stay safe. I don’t want him to break her mind like he did Charles…

To be continued

[lysandra-vanburen]

To Be A Lady...

If you would like to take the opportunity to join in this little 100 days of posting, I welcome you to do so! The rules are simple. Write a scenario in which fits each given rule ( as provided here ) to show how your character is a Lady! Lets call it the… “Being a woman doesn’t necessarily make you a lady” challenge!

Day Seventeen

If you make a mistake, acknowledge it and apologize.                                                             Warning, suggestive content toward                                                                 sexual assault and child abuse.

“You never take my side!”

“This isn’t about sides, Charlette! This is about dignity and grace!”

“Screw that! He hit me, was I just suppose to take it and smile like a good little bitch?!”

“Charle- Language, for one!”

The maids exchanged sidelong glances, their eyes wide with astonishment at the abnormal height of volume in Lady Vanburen and her daughter ’s argument. Never before had they reached such levels of violence of words. True, Charlette was considered quite the rebel child but... She was still well mannered. 

Even though Lysandra had adopted them at a ripe age of six, both Charlette and her twin Albert were taught well by the patient Lysandra, raised right. Despite Charlette and Lysandra’s differences, the girl had enough respect for her adopted mother to behave.

Noticeably the screaming match had died down, both women having relocated to Lysandra’s library to discuss in hushed murmurs the topic, both eager to work out the kinks of the issue so they could both move on. 

One maid worked up the courage to peek into the room-- Just as Lysandra ripped it open and barked in the woman’s face a single command: “Locate the maid that was present for todays blunder! Immediately!”

With a startled squeal the maid turned and ran, exclaiming her readiness to adhere to Lysandra’s demands -- Alas, her only response was the slamming of the library door.

Slowly Lysandra turned about her heels, her neatly groomed brows furrowed in mild irritation as she attempted to inwardly unravel the issue at hand.

“He hit you?” She asked, much calmer than when the incident first occurred.

It was only then that the Lady of the house got a gander of her daughter’s face. A huge, irritated red spot was noticeable bright against the child’s skin, her entire right cheek dark with a noticeable print of a palm and fingers taking shape in the form of a developing bruise. Too, her dress was ripped and her skirts were dirtied, leaving Lysandra to assume that some sort of squabble may have occurred.

“Yes..,” Charlette was much quieter, seemingly embarrassed. 

Instantly the mother bristled, irritation of a new kind swelling within her as she shuffled closer to her daughter, gently taking the girl’s face into her hands to begin closely eyeing her over for further abnormalities.

“Did he do anything else to you, besides hit you?”

The girl’s eyes would promptly flutter shut, visibly shuddering and beginning to quiver with what Lysandra assumed was fear.

“H-He tried--” she sniffled, beginning to break down before her mother who simply curled her arms around the child and brought her in for a tight hug. A single hand rested against the back of the child’s head, coaxing her to bury her face into her chest just as the door was knocked upon.

“Enter,” came Lysandra’s rough, irritated tone.

The maid meekly shuffled forth, her eyes wider than a mouse’s, her fear visible by how her knees quivered and threatened to buckle. Lysandra felt no remorse at this moment, turning - with her daughter in her arms- to address the maid: “You are my daughter's handmaiden, yes?” The maid instantly nodded furiously, “Then tell me what happened this evening in the garden.”

The maid paled, whispering: “H-.. He said he’d bury us if we spoke of what transpired.”

“And I’ll ruin your fucking life if you hide any secrets for that creature,” the mother sneered.

The maid’s head bowed then, submissive to the mother’s will.

“He was a charming boy... He had great influencer over your daughter, and he coaxed her away with the idea that he was just going to show her his family’s garden, claimed the flowers were nearly as beautiful as she was--,” the maid flinched as Charlette would begin to sob, “A-And he.. Once she was in the garden, ma’am, he.. Tried to force her against a wall, claimed she would learn to like it rough... Tried t-to touch her, and... She started screaming,” Lysandra recounted that horrific cry for help, “THen he placed his hand over her mouth... She fought him. He slapped her to subdue her, and as the party arrived was when she punched him.”

Lysandra bobbed her head slowly, nails beginning to comb through Charlette’s hair before pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead, coaxing her to go lay down on the burgundy chaise lounge chair in the room. All the while she murmured her apologies toward her daughter, swearing to right her wrong in so swiftly judging Charlette.

The mother turned and approached her daughter’s handmaiden, her eyes dark, “And what did you do for her, while she went through that, besides swearing silence to that beast of a boy? You’re fired,” Lysandra remarked swiftly, motioning toward the doors, “Send in Alexia.”

The maid left in tears, sobbing as heavily as Charlette who remained curled up on the chair with her bare feet pressing against the cushion, hugging her knees to her chest for dear life.

Next, a more aged woman sauntered through the door, dressed in the garb of most low-class ladies, her stunning blue eyes bright with sorrow as she turned her blonde haired head to address the sobbing Charlette. “You called for me, m’lady?”

“Congratulations, Alexia,” Lysandra hummed, “You’re being promoted to Charlette’s lady-in-waiting. Attend to her immediately, console her... I have a mother and father to speak to regarding the way they raise their sons,” she remarked grimly, nodding from Alexia to Charlette -- the latter of whom received kind eyes before the mother disappeared from the library.

Lysandra -

Charlette -

Alexia -

[heyhowdyhellohi]

How Quickly We Mend Pt.2

Masterlist here

Peter Maximoff x OC (NOT PIETRO FROM THE AVENGERS! PETER AS IN EVAN PETERS AS IN X-MEN)

Warning: Language Probably

Summary: X-Men Days of Future Past timeline, plus an oc healing mutant, Amelia. I’m not doing that thing where I quote huge chunks of the movie. This is going to be related, and then it’s going to veer off into its own thing, namely a love story between Peter and the reader.

The sun heat up the leather of the car seats and filled the stuffy tin box with the smell of smoke and wet dog. The three men were pressed up against each other in the front seat. Logan shifted, thinking that sitting in the middle had been a mistake as the cheap leather squeaked.

“Okay, she should be passing by that homeless shelter soon.” Logan pointed across the street, stretching his arm in front of Charles’ face.

“Oh, she’s a volunteer?” Hank leaned forward and tried to spot the homeless shelter over Logan’s shoulder. Charles shoved Logan’s elbow from his personal space and right into Hank’s chest.

“Uh, sorry, kid.” Logan glared at Charles and cleared his throat. He sat tensed into himself, trying to become small and failing. “No, her parents kicked her out.”

“What?” Charles turned to Logan suddenly hearing voices again, suppressed memories of suffering students whose parents lashed out in fear. Now, there was nowhere for those kids to go. But it wasn’t his problem, right? Why did everyone want to make it his problem?

Logan scoffed at Charles. “What? Did you really just forget all these years? Did you not realize who you were turning your back on? Just because you don’t feel their pain anymore, doesn’t mean they’re not still suffering.”

Charles stepped out of the car and crossed the street to the homeless shelter. Hank followed immediately after him, but Logan took a moment to collect himself. This is the Professor?

He sighed and jogged to catch up to them. “Okay, let me do the talking. We need to do this quick if we’re going to find Peter Maximoff and make it on time to the tour.” Logan stepped in front of both men and opened the door. Inside were three rows of plastic fold out tables, with only a few occupants each. One table was pressed up to the back wall, plastic plates and cutlery waiting on one end. The food wasn’t ready yet.

A woman with long tangled blond hair was upon them in a second. “Are you here to...” she looked Charles up and down, “volunteer?” His fault for keeping that shitty beard. If he doesn’t want to be mistaken for a homeless man, he should stop dressing like one.

“Uh, sorry, not today. We’re looking for Miss Trent. We heard she passes by here.” Logan explained, putting his friendliest smile on, unfortunately not a very warm one.

“Oh, well, I don’t think- well, I mean she’s- I’m not-”

“Woah, calm down there, Miss. We heard about her situation and we think it’s just a shame that someone so young is having such a hard time of it. We represent a school- well, its more of a refuge for youngsters like herself. We want to offer her a chance to join us.” Charles was getting more and more anxious by the second. He felt his blood boil with every word that left this arrogant, hairy, practical stranger’s mouth, but before Charles broke and interrupted, he saw the blond woman glance behind her at a door just behind the fold out table where the food would be served to the homeless. She’s already here, both Charles and Logan realized. “Free meals and housing, a full curriculum, a safe place to grow and learn, and a future. You’ll tell her we dropped by, won’t you?” Logan started to turn around.

“Wait a second! Before you go, do you happen to have any credentials?” there was a shrillness in her voice as she stopped the three men from leaving.

“As a matter of fact, we brought our card.” Logan whipped out a business card he had nabbed from Charles’ desk drawer. At this Charles almost jumped out of his skin to lunge at Logan, but he tensed his jaw and took a step back.

The woman read over the card and chewed on her lip. “Could you wait here just a second?” without waiting for an answer, she rushed to the back door and disappeared behind it.

“You’re an arsehole!” Charles growled at Logan. He snatched the card out of his hands and tucked it into his worn brown leather wallet.

“You asked me to find her, I’m finding her. You got a problem with that, we can turn around and stop messing with shit that doesn’t concern us right now!” The two men squared up to each other, but Hank brought their attention to the blond woman with a throat clear. She was already halfway through the room, a dainty brunette following behind her.

“Amy, this is-uh...” the blond had an arm around Amy’s shoulders and a caring smile, even as she realized the tall stranger hadn’t shared his name.

“Logan. It’s good to see you a-uh-Nice to meet you, Amy. I was wondering if we could have a second to talk outside?” The girl nodded and smiled politely, but she gripped the blond woman’s hand tightly.

“I’ll save you a plate, Amy.” she assured as the group of four walked out the door.

They walked to an empty storefront with minimum foot traffic before Logan stopped and faced Amy. “Kid, uh, we need your help.”

“I thought you had a school?” she stepped back knowing that there were very few good reasons to lie to a homeless girl.

“Can I show you something?” Logan said, stepping back. He remembered how she appreciated personal space, even as an adult.

“What?” her voice was a whisper carried in the wind.

“Just- don’t be scared.” he was afraid that she would run, but she froze immediately when three bones protruded from his fist, breaking through the skin and leaving it raw. Hank cleared his throat and shifted to help block him from view from across the street. Charles followed his lead and stood to keep people behind them on the sidewalk from spotting the mutation. Logan glanced around, his fist tucked close to his body and away from the street, but no one had noticed. So, he sucked in a breath and stabbed one of them into his other arm. Amy gave a choked yelp as she pressed her hands to her face and squeezed her eyes shut. What is happening? What the fuck am I seeing? What the shit?

“Uh, I kinda need you to look,” Logan breathed through the pain as he retracted his claws. He saw her eyes sparkle through her fingers as she watched the skin close back up.

Her hands dropped to her mouth, then to her sides. “You... you’re like me? You’re like me. Oh, my god.” in a blur of brown curls and a surprising bout of giggles she hugged Logan and cried into his shirt.

He squeezed her and chuckled at the déjà vu of this moment. When he met her for the first time, even after she had learned about mutants, she had still been ecstatic to learn about another healer. He pet her soft locks as he told her what she always said she had needed to hear as a teen. “Hey, hey. You’re not alone, kid. It’s going to be okay. I need you to come with us somewhere, though.”

“Of course! Anywhere!” she wiped her eyes and smiled at him like she really meant anywhere. Then she glanced at his companions and paused. “Are you...?”

“I’m Hank. I don’t heal, but I turn blue and hairy and strong,” he smiled and waved a bit.

“I’m Charles. I don’t heal either.” he was going to continue, to say that he was injured. He wanted to ask if there was anything she could do, but he paused. God’s favorite and most forsaken creature. There was more to the story. He was certain. “I’m usually telepathic, but I’m having some- my powers are not currently working.”

“You ever been to D.C., kid?” Logan smiled, honestly this time, because everything was going according to plan.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” Amy smiled. For the first time since she discovered her powers at 7 years old, she didn’t feel like her skin was a clown suit, advertising her freakishness. She felt that she might start to belong.

Part 1 - Part 3

[x-men-x-imagines]

Imagine #10 Charles Xavier (Logan Howlett?) - Part 2

Requested by Anon: Hi love I just found your tumblr and its amazing, and I was wondering if you’re planning to write a part two of the Charles Xavier imagine where the reader has siren powers? 💗

 Requested by Anon: Hii could you do an imagine where you have the ability to make everyone horny who touches here (like Alisha in Misfits if you have seen it) and she is barraly 18. she has a thing for for Charles and Logan and yeah… I love your blog ❤ 

 Not my gif

Words: 2181

Warnings: Swears, fem!reader, angst-ish, typos

A/N: Well, both these requests are from months ago and I am really sorry! I’m also sorry for not uploading in weeks. I’m really busy right now with my brother moving in and my other brother behaving like a twat, uni is killing me and I have a date tomorrow, which is probably going to be a fucking disaster, since I have neither confidence nor social skills. Also, I have no idea, why every Part 2 to whatever I write turns into angst. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! xoxo

Part 1

You could see the mansion from all the way down the street, its roof peaking through the scanty green of the early April trees. You hadn’t been here in a long time. And if you were completely honest, you had to admit that the way you had left hadn’t exactly been the behaviour of a young, well-mannered lady. The past years you had been trying to blame it on your mutation, but at least saying goodbye wouldn’t have hurt anyone, that you couldn’t argue with.

Seriously though, you thought, as your reluctant steps brought you closer and closer to the last place you wanted to be, what were you doing here again? You had always hated confrontation, nothing had changed about that after you had left Charles and the others. But you had also never in your life felt as bad as the months after you had disappeared without notice.

Something by the side of the road caught your eye and you kneeled down in front of the weather-worn plate that was laying in the grass a few steps away from the familiar gate. ‘Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters’, it read in big, clear letters and a strange mixture of pride and sadness took hold of you. So he had actually done it, you thought, Charles had managed to make this place an actual school. You knew that it had been his biggest dream, the thing he had been working for the hardest and the longest. Which made it even worse, that the times of Xavier’s school evidently were over already. Charles would never have something of his lying around like that, you thought and got back on your feet.

The closer you got to the mansion, the clearer it became to you, that the school itself wasn’t the only thing about this place that wasn’t going well. The windows were dirty from rain and nature; the driveway was covered in last fall’s leaves. The garden hadn’t been looked after at all and, the most peculiar detail, the front door was standing far open, opening the view to the dark and more than messy foyer.

Suddenly, you were all too sure that you didn’t want to see, what was going on here, and at the same time knew, that this was the moment, in which you had to take the steps that you’d been dreading for years. Dammit, you thought, as your feet carried you towards the few steps in front of the main portal.

You stepped over the threshold, just in time to see something fly across the staircase and land on the other side, just slightly out of your sight. It – him, as you realized – groaned and tried to get up, just in time to be hit by another flying… person? You didn’t know what to do, surreally, you felt like laughing, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the fact that the man was being thrown across the room once again. You made a step back and furrowed and kneaded your hands nervously, as the second person/creature jumped into the chandelier, whilst continuing his indescribable screaming and roaring.

“Hank, what’s going on here?”, you heard a very familiar voice and felt your breath catch in your chest, as a third man stepped into the picture. You couldn’t see him properly in the dimmed light of the foyer, but oh, you recognized him immediately. This, you thought, was the definition of bad timing.

“Professor.”, the first stranger said. “Wait, you know this guy?”, the chandelier-dangling… person added. “Ugh, he looks slightly familiar. Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank!”

It took you a moment to notice, because you hadn’t at all been expecting it, but once you realized, you couldn’t unhear it: The professor was mumbling, his words more like a stream of indefinable noises. Which could be explained with the glass of whiskey in his hand. Oh no, you thought, not being able to suppress your disappointed groan. What the hell was going on here?

Three pairs of eyes met yours and for a second nobody said a word. “I’m sorry, were you expecting someone, professor?”, the first stranger asked, his voice sarcastic. You didn’t like his tone, but the scurrility of the situation still made you laugh uncomfortably.

“Looks like this is gonna be a hell of a tea party.”, you mumbled and immediately regretted it, seeing the familiar spark in the three men’s eyes, even in the dimmed light of the foyer. “I take that as a ‘no’, then.”, the first man replied. The professor didn’t say a word, but after a moment, he tumbled forward and dropped down on the stairs in a way, that would have had the Charles you knew complain about everything, from his manners to his getup. What had happened to him?

Your eyes fell on the third person in the room and as you noticed the familiar face structure beneath the bizarre, blue fur that was covering his body from head to toe, you recalled the name that Charles had called him by. “Hank?”, you asked, your voice high in confusion. “Hank McCoy?”

“The one and only.”, he replied, suddenly sounding tired, as his face started to return back to a human colour. Did I miss out on something, you wanted to ask, but you already knew the answer. Of course, you had, and it was your own fault. Your guilt hit you with the force of a rhino. “Long time no see.”, you murmured, lowering your gaze towards your gloved hands.

“So, this is what? A family reunion?”, the first man asked. “If it were a family reunion, what would you be doing here?”, Charles asked. You hadn’t expected him to say a word and your eyes met with his immediately. You tried to smile, but you weren’t sure, if his sharp words were directed at you or the stranger. Probably both.

“Well, I’m here to ask for your help.”, the stranger replied, before interrupting himself. “Wait, you can walk?” Silence.

“Wait, what?” You stepped towards the three men, not knowing where to look. Right now, the stranger seemed the safest bet, which was something you had never thought before. You didn’t dare to look at Charles, and Hank… well, he obviously didn’t dare to look at you. “What do you mean, he can walk?”, you repeated, ignoring the stranger’s eyes looking you up and down. You knew it wasn’t his fault. It was your mutation, your… gift.

“So, you don’t know him that well, then?” It hurt, it hurt like a bitch. But the man couldn’t possibly know that and you sure as hell weren’t going to tell anyone. No, obviously, you thought, you didn’t know him that well, not any more. “No.”, was all you said.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” It was Hank, now looking like his human self again, stepping towards you. You could tell that he wasn’t sure whether to hug you or to kick you out. You had been friends. Once, years ago, you reminded yourself.

“What happened here?”, you asked. “The place, it’s…” “Wrecked? Thank you for your input.”, Charles interrupted. You didn’t know why you weren’t expecting to hear his voice. Maybe it was less about his voice than about his tone. You deserved it, but it hurt. Which you probably also deserved. “Charles, I’m…” “You’re overstepping your boundaries. This is private property.” “Charles, I…” “As for you.”, Charles spit towards the stranger. “Why should I help you with anything? I don’t know you and I don’t care.”

“Because I was sent here for you and I’m sure, you’ll want to help me in this matter.” “Well, it’s a shame that I’m busy right now, I would have loved to hear the story behind some Canadian punk breaking into my house and telling me…” “Technically, Beast let me in.” “Technically, he entered against my…” “Hank!”

“Stop it!”, you interrupted and to your enormous surprise, the men actually listened. What was going on here? Charles never hesitated to help anyone, neither friend, nor stranger. And Charles never had to ask anyone about their stories. Their stories came to him and often he had a hard time keeping them out, or at least that’s what he had told you. And Charles definitely wouldn’t leave this place rotting like that. He loved this house! This wasn’t the Charles you knew. Or had known. “What happened to the school, Charles?”

He groaned and took another sip from his whiskey, before getting up on his feet and turning away from you. “You can both piss off.”, he shouted over his shoulder, tumbling up the stairs. “Hank, show them the door.” But that wasn’t necessary, at least not for you.

“Y/n, wait!” It was Hank, but you ignored him, if anything, you increased the pace with which you left the mansion behind you. God, was this your fault? You didn’t even want to hear the answer to that. “Y/n!”

You were roughly four steps away from the gate, when a hand got hold of your arm and you froze for a split-second. Panic flooded your system and you ripped your arm free before realizing that you were wearing a jacket. He hadn’t touched your skin. You turned around to look at Hank. “He didn’t mean it like that.”, he insisted, the same caring expression in his eyes, that they had always worn years ago. “Didn’t he? I would have.”, you managed to say, before tears started running down your cheeks. “I came here to apologize and I… I was prepared for his disappointment, his anger, but… but this? What happened here, Hank? What…?”

“Shhhh.”, Hank hissed, obviously not knowing what to do, but wanting to do something, anything to help you. He started to awkwardly stroke your arm and you jumped once again, a reflex to what could have happened. What had happened in the past. “It’ll be fine.”

“Will it, really?”, you howled, not able to contain yourself. “He used to help people. No matter, who they were. And now he won’t even talk to the guy? He won’t even listen to me?”

“Why don’t you come back inside?” You didn’t argue with that. This place had been your home, even if just for a few weeks. You had never felt more at home, than in your time with Charles. And all that was left of that time was your guilt and the run down house in front of you.

The stranger was still sitting in the foyer and he didn’t look particularly happy either. “This went well.”, he said and looked at you accusingly. “Who are you?”, he asked.

“An old friend. My name is y/n.”, you replied tiredly. “Define friend.”, the stranger murmured, eyeing your undoubtedly red and puffy face. You didn’t care. “You’re one to talk.” He grinned and shook his head. “I’m Logan. So, what did you do to piss off the professor? I mean, the way I know him, it’s practically impossible to get on his bad side.” “It didn’t sound like you knew him very well, if you ask me.”, you countered. Who was this guy, anyway?

“That’s a matter of perspective. And a very long story.” “Must be your lucky day, Charles didn’t even seem willing to listen to a short story.” “Your story doesn’t seem to be of his concern either.”

“Could you stop that, guys?”, Hank asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Let’s just agree, that he isn’t in a position to talk to either of you.”

“Really? Most people find it easier to talk to me after they had a few drinks. And he seems to be far ahead of that, so…” “Do you think this is a joke?”, you growled at him angrily. “Oh, not at all, sweetheart, but I’m on a schedule and he is the only person, who can help me.” “So you behave like a dick? Amazing strategy, how has it been working out for you in the past?”

Silence. Then: “I like you.”, Logan said, eyeing you once again and you knew that your mutation was at it again.

“What do you need his help for?”, Hank asked. He looked exhausted, only now you realized the dark circles under his eyes. “I need to prevent something from happening, or many people will die. And for that I need the professor’s help. And Magneto’s.”

“Mag… Erik? Where is he? When I… when I left, he was here, what happened?” “You missed out on quite a lot, y/n. And you,”, he looked at Logan and his expression changed from sad to sceptical, “you can forget about your plan. There is no way to get a hold of Erik.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it’s impossible. We might just need a little help.” “Do you know where he is?”, Hank asked, furrowing his brows. “Yes. Like I said, we might need some help. And since Charles doesn’t have his powers, I guess, we’ll…”

“Charles doesn’t what?”, you interrupted, just as Hank asked: “How do you know about that?” “Well, it’s time for my long story, then.”

[illuminating-dragons]

Survival of the Worthiest (5/12): Season 5

Spoilers included: Vaguely up to Season 8. 

This is probably as good a time as any to mention that any information from Season 13 does not impact how anything in this series works, including how/when people die or information about their backgrounds.

Read it on AO3

Jo and Ellen Harvelle

Way Number One

            “Hey, Eric? You know those two strong female characters we have?”

            “Ellen and Jo?”

            “Yeah. Let’s not kill them, okay? They’ve got an interesting story line.”

            “But people hate Jo.”

            “No, people hate that she’s a “threat” to their incest fantasy. Or Destiel. Just stop writing her as a love interest. Either give her another one, or make her and Dean have an adult conversation about their feelings that’s actually convincing.”

            “You know what? You’re right. Maybe that’ll give people some hope during the series finale.”

            “Yeah, about that…we might be getting renewed.”

            “We’re getting WHAT NOW?!”

  Way Number Two

            “Hellhounds, Dean,” Meg grinned.

            “Wait!” Sam held up his hands.

            “Sam, what are you doing?”

            “Lucifer just wants to talk?” Sam said, ignoring Dean.

            “Yep. He says he already knows you don’t want to say yes.” Meg’s eyes turned black. “I told him I could convince you, but he wants you in one piece.”

            Sam thought fast. “Okay. We’ll talk. But everyone’s coming with me.”

            “He didn’t agree to that.”

            “I’m not doing anything behind my family’s back anymore.”

            Meg snapped, and the hellhound’s heavy breathing faded away. “Your choice, Sam.” She motioned him towards a building down the street, tall and somber. “He’s in there.”

            “Ladies first,” Sam smirked.

            Meg sauntered towards the building, and Sam followed her, Dean on his heels. Ellen grabbed his arm.

            “Do you know what you’re doing?”

            “I do. I promise.” I’m not watching anyone else I love get chewed up by hellhounds.

Butterfly Effect: When meeting with Lucifer, Sam figures out that the gun won’t work without using it (if Lucifer hates demons so much, he wouldn’t give one the power to kill him). They bargain for a six months’ surrender in Detroit in exchange for Sam’s family being safe, and they leave before Death is brought back.

  Way Number Three (Which is similar to Way Number Two)

            “I can’t walk, I can’t help,” Jo said.

            “We’re not just going to let you die!” Dean snarled, but his voice broke in the middle.

            Sam closed his eyes. Please, help us.

            The lights flickered and Sam whipped around.

            “Who the hell are you?!” Dean snapped.         

            “Lucifer,” Sam whispered. No, he hadn’t meant his prayer to be heard by him…

            The archangel ignored them and stalked towards Jo. Ellen threw herself in front of her injured daughter.

            “Don’t you touch her, you goddamned Devil.”

            Lucifer actually smiled. “An accurate summation, Mrs. Harvelle.” He froze her in place and examined Jo. “Hellhound?”

            Jo didn’t speak.

            Lucifer seemed to know already. “My apologies. Meg can be…over zealous.” He reached out. “Please remain still, I’m still new at healing human bodies.”

            Sam couldn’t move, couldn’t even cry out, but he wasn’t sure if that was a spell or his own horror. All he could do was watch as Lucifer put his hand on Jo’s forehead. A soft blue light moved through her body, and her wound disappeared. Jo took a deep, shaky breath, and sat up.

            “Is your pain gone?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Excellent.” Lucifer faced Sam.

            “You did that so I would say yes,” Sam whispered.

            Lucifer waved his hand and Ellen immediately crouched beside her daughter, checking her wound. “Of course not, Sam,” he said. He actually sounded hurt. “They’re your family. I know they mean a lot to you. And I don’t want to force you.”

            Sam took a shaky breath. Dean was by his side. He could see the Colt in his brother’s pocket…and understood.

            He pulled it out and showed it to Lucifer. “This isn’t going to work on you, is it?”

            Lucifer’s smile was sad, and for a moment he looked truly old. “No, it won’t. Hang on to it though, it will keep you safe from other creatures.”

            “Sam, what are you doing?!”   

            “I figured it out,” Sam answered Dean. “If Crowley’s right and Lucifer hates demons, why would he let one hold onto something that could kill him?” He turned to Lucifer. “You’re not stupid.”

            “I’m glad you think so,” Lucifer said, his lips twisting.

            Sam gave the gun back to Dean. “Is there any way you would stop this?”

            “I can’t, Sam.”

            “You can. I know you don’t believe it, but there is a way out.”

            “Do you think I want to be playing the role my father set out for me?!” Lucifer’s voice rose. “Of course not! But if my brother wants me to fight him…well, I’ll give him what he wants.”

            “There has to be something!” Sam wracked his brains. “We’re supposed to be like you two, right? Well, my brother’s here. He still…he still believes in me, for some reason. We’re still family, even after all I did.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Maybe there’s still a chance for you and Michael.”

            Lucifer looked away. “Do you have any idea how much I want to believe that?”

            Sam almost said yes, but he choked back the word.

            “You can say the word in conversation, Sam. That’s not how this works.”

            “Oh. Then…yes. I know. Maybe Chuck could help?”

            “Chuck?”

            “Chuck Shurley. The prophet.”

            “There is no prophet by that name.”

            “Charles, I guess. It’s a nickname.”

            Lucifer shook his head, perplexed. “The prophet who should be now is named Kevin Tran. The one before him died three years ago, a woman named Teresa.”

            “All the other feathery douchebags know him,” Dean put in. “Raphael and Zach…and Cas.”

            Lucifer snapped his fingers and Cas appeared. “Castiel, have you met the prophet?”

            “Yes,” Cas said. He looked bewildered. “His name is Chuck.”

            Lucifer froze. “It can’t be.”

            “What do you mean?” Ellen said.

            “All angels know the prophets,” Lucifer said slowly. “They were inscribed on our eyes. But I have never seen the name Charles Shurley.”

            “Maybe he has a different name?”

            “As I said, it should be Kevin Tran. And he would only be about twelve.”

            Sam stared at him. “Then who is Chuck?”

            “Maybe a false prophet?” Jo suggested.

            “Not if everyone recognizes him as a prophet,” Lucifer whispered. “Everyone who’s been in Heaven since I fell. Castiel…where is he?”

            “He isn’t…brother, that can’t be.” Cas held up the amulet. “This would glow in his presence.”

            “He is the Almighty,” Lucifer said. “He can do as he likes.” He straightened. “Where is he, Castiel?”

Butterfly Effect: Lucifer finds Chuck and gets through to him. Chuck actually takes responsibility for his actions, gets Michael and Lucifer in a room and sorts out their angst as a family. You know, the way they’re supposed to. Ellen and Jo live happily ever after. Lucifer becomes the weird family member that Crowley might have become.

  Anna

            She’s cut loose from the torture at last, instructed to find the Winchesters. To protect them, since Castiel is clearly not up to it. They need to survive to be vessels.

            At first Anna does offer to kill Sam. She has a knife at her throat the minute after, but she states her case. “You won’t suffer,” she promises. “I’ll make it stop.”

            Sam does consider it. But he refuses, and Anna is okay with that. She has to leave, then; she can’t stay, it will draw attention. But she promises to return if they need her.

            And on a tip from Castiel, she flies, following a trail of bodies and candy until she finds the Trickster. “Any advice on how to disappear, brother?”

            The Trickster laughs, and takes her with him.

Butterfly Effect: Anna is present at Elysium, and she stabs Lucifer to protect Gabriel. She manages to track down God, and convinces him to get Michael in line. She and Dean are not in a relationship, but she does inform him for sure that Cas is in love with him. Destiel happens, Anna wins, the end.

  Gabriel

Way Number One

            Of fucking course he wasn’t going to kill his brother. He’d already made that clear, more than once.

            But he wasn’t going to let Kali die either.

            Or the Winchesters.

            Lucifer seeing through his trick surprised him. Having his brother turn and stab him with his own blade (well, a facsimile of his own blade)…that surprised him even more.

            It hurt, too.

            Gabriel let out a loud, heart-broken shriek, mourning his brother. He’d held on to some hope that his brother wasn’t totally lost. But the Morning Star would never have hurt him. He was Satan now, fully.

            Gabriel almost wished he was dying.

            But he didn’t. He made sure to lay fake wings on the ground. He lingered for a moment, saw Lucifer stare at his dead body. Gabriel hoped that he would react somehow. And Lucifer did cry, but he wiped away the tears and walked out without a word.

            Gabriel set his jaw. Well, that was the end. No more hope. Maybe the Winchesters could beat Lucifer. Maybe. But he sure couldn’t.

            So he met up with Kali a hundred miles away, and whisked the two of them to Pandora. They’d both earned a vacation. And he had a lot of explaining to do.

Butterfly Effect: Gabriel does leave, and his relationship with Kali blossoms. He’s yanked back to Earth by Kevin being in danger the first time, and is forced to sort out the nonsense. He heals Cas, gets the Leviathans crammed back into Purgatory, and takes over Heaven. By that, I mean he and Kali sort out the faction situation, make it impossible for angels to kill each other, and kick Naomi’s ass to kingdom come.

  Way Two

            He sat up, coughing and choking. Kali was sitting next to him, in the middle of a broken room.

            “How?”

            Kali held up the vial. “You’re mine now.”

            Like he hadn’t always been.

            Kali shifted so his head was in her lap. “Your brother is gone.”         

            “He killed me. He’s not my brother anymore.”

            “Loki—Gabriel. Am I no longer yours?”

            “Not the same thing. I know you would never really want to hurt me. Why do you think I gave you a fake blade? But Lucifer…he’s not who he was. That part of him is gone.” Gabriel tried to sit up, but fell back with a grunt of pain. “Alright, I’ve got to go.”

            “Where?”

            “I’m going after the Winchesters. They might actually be right. It’s worth a shot, at least.”

            “I’m coming with you.”

            “You don’t have to.”

            “Do you think you can stop me?”

            “That’s my girl.”

Butterfly Effect: Gabriel and Kali join the fight. Kali is limited in power only because Lucifer is of a different power source; she can fight the Horsemen, and does. She also works to minimize the damage done to the innocent (though quite a few child abusers get killed in the Apocalyptic weather). Gabriel manages to knock both Michael and Lucifer into the Cage, saves Sam and Adam, and everyone lives happily ever after.

  Way Three

            “I’ve been riding the pine a long time…”

            “Gabriel,” Lucifer interrupted him. “I’m sure you have this speech planned out. But I really have places to be.”

            “Stop. Please.”

            “I can’t.”

            “Can’t or won’t?”

            “Does it really matter? It ends the same way.”

            “It doesn’t have to. Look at me! I’ve gotten away with not being an archangel for 3,000 years.”

            Lucifer spread his wings. “Do you see what he’s done?”

            His brother’s wings were scarred and broken. Hey were still usable, still functional, but that was all they were.

            “I…I’m sorry, Lucifer. I’m not excusing what he did. I’m not. You have to believe me.”

            “I would like to. But as you’re currently standing in front of me, trying to kill me…”

            Gabriel took a deep breath. “I’m not in front of you. I’m behind you.” He snapped, let the image fade away.

            Lucifer actually laughed as he turned. “Well, well! You’re getting better, aren’t you?”

            “What do we do, Lucifer? How do we get out of this?”

            Lucifer hesitated, and then lowered his blade. “You really think there’s a way out?”

            “Absolutely.” And if there wasn’t, he would make one.

            “I don’t want to hurt Sam.” His brother’s voice was pitiful, and Gabriel risked getting closer, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

            “Come on, brother. Come to the not-dark-side.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Right. We need to get you humanized.”

Butterfly Effect: Gabriel (with Team Free Will’s reluctant help) starts introducing Lucifer to human things. It’s a bit hard to hide the presence of two archangels, but Lucifer has a solution; if he becomes human, he doesn’t have to fight Michael. He gives Gabriel his Grace, but not before he resurrects Ellen and Jo and frees Nick’s soul, who really just wants to be dead. Humanity freaks him out, but he ends up enjoying it for two reasons. The first is that he realizes how in love with a certain hunter he is, and the second is that it actually shocks Michael out of the fight; his brother was willing to become the thing he hated so that they wouldn’t have to fight. Happy ending, Samifer is a thing that I can’t believe I wrote, and Destiel of course.