#yes i know trish i’m not a corpse

[teddypickerry]

i realized my age when i first saw this lineup this morning and my first thought was “dana carvey is sooooo cool.”

[adamwatchesmovies]

Jeepers Creepers (2001)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

You don’t need to disapprove of director Victor Salva to dismiss 2001’s Jeepers Creepers. This movie has a lot of ideas thrown into the mix. Many don’t mesh together. Despite the elements that come out of nowhere, the questionable uses of humor and several logical gaps, you can see why this film spawned a franchise. It's exactly the sort of movie you’d like to see remade.

While traveling home from college for spring break, Trish (Gina Philips) and her brother Darry (Justin Long) spot a strange man in the distance dumping what looks like a body down a large pipe. After narrowly losing him on the road, they investigate and discover a horrifying secret.

I'll pause my review to comment a bit on Victor Salva. He served his time and people deserve second chances. Good people are capable of making terrible films. Bad people are capable of making great films. Is this an example of the latter? No. Jeepers Creepers begins on a promising note. Trish and Darry are engaging protagonists because they feel like real people who have seen horror movies - just like you and I. Their banter before things go crazy is quite natural and memorable too, which makes them endearing. Yes, they ultimately make the “dumb choice” to investigate a dangerous place after narrowly escaping from “The Creeper” but they’re doing it because someone needs help. There’s something very unsettling at the bottom of the pipe sticking out of the ground. If Trish and Darry hadn’t investigated, who knows how long what was going on would’ve continued. Similarly, when they knock down the killer, they don’t just give him a tap and turn their backs towards him. They’re smart about it.

Some of the film’s issues are only noticeable after the fact. The Creeper drives this big, aggressive, rusty truck with a license plate that reads BEATNGU. Why a serial killer would have such a noticeable and memorable plate, I don’t know and it makes even less sense once you know some of the movie’s twists. Other choices made by Salva (who also writes) are creepy and memorable but feel like they’ve been included because they were neat - not because they actually make sense. The Creeper’s lair is this gigantic structure filled with mummified corpses stitched together in bizarre ways. It’s unsettling, but why does he do that? It gets even wilder when we meet Jezebelle Gay Hartman (Patricia Belcher), a psychic who mostly shows up to tell our heroes that the Creeper is after them and give us bits of information about him… without actually explaining where he comes from, why he’s doing what he’s doing or making sense of the points I mentioned earlier. This character feels like a late addition; a way to spoon-feed information test screeners said was missing.

No aspect of this film embodies its “I have a stack of great ideas so I’m going to include ALL” feel better than the title. Jeepers Creepers is actually the name of a song Jezelle heard during one of her visions. When Trish and Darry hear it, they’ll know The Creeper is after them. Some of the lyrics also describe the killer’s modus operandi - which is obviously the reason why it was included. It’s fine in that “ooh, it’s an old song that sounds upbeat but is actually sinister when you listen to the lyrics” kind of way but it's still shoehorned in. At one point during a chase, Trish and Darry hear the song playing on the radio, except it’s not the 1938 version Jezebelle heard, it’s some new, faster-paced, hipper version. That’s one hell of a coincidence for that song to be playing on this specific night, at this specific time. When it comes down to it, you could’ve taken the tune out of the movie completely if you’d wanted to.

I can sort of recommend Jeepers Creepers to horror movie fanatics. I don’t mean people who like horror movies, I mean people who watch nothing but horror movies. If you gobble up anything that includes serial killers, monsters, ghosts, demonic possessions, etc., this film has some great ideas that you’ll be happy to see play out. Even for that crowd, Jeepers Creepers does not live up to its potential. (November 5, 2023)

[fnalguy]

headcanon 04 || canon divergence ramble. 

so a lot of my canon divergence comes in the form of a timeline. in canon, tommy goes to pinehurst when he’s 17 & resurrects jason when he’s 18. I’m going to kind of stretch that out over a longer period. I think he goes to pinehurst at 18 because he’s desperate to get out into the world & find a way to function. He’s in permanent fight mode during that time & can’t keep his emotions regulated to any capacity --- it’s all or nothing baby. after the massacre i feel like it gets worse when he’s convinced he’s becoming jason. I think the massacre caused him to regress a lot more because it drove him to question his truth. 

Ever since he was a child, people have told him that jason was just some guy in a mask. jason voorhees was dead, a legend. The fact that the killer in Pinehurst was just a guy in a mask would make him wonder. The memories are fuzzy & they come in brief & terriyfing moments of clarity. He remembers the way he felt, but the rest of it is sort of hard to sort through. He was young & ill-equipped to deal with the scenario at hand. Anyways, what I’m getting at is that I think it would take at least a couple of years to straighten out his perception of things. To filter through the hallucinations, the medication, the memories & everything else in between. 

I think he was right on the verge of a ‘ breakthrough ‘ when he decided he needed closure on the subject. He had been told Jason’s ashes were buried but it wasn’t enough to be told. There was still this gap in understanding that the man he had killed was dead, if that makes sense??? He never forgets the way Jason’s hand moved after being stabbed in the face & the fear that drove him to ( double tap ) make sure the job was done... which btw is also i think the first ‘ extreme ‘ reaction that triggers all the ones to follow, but that's a conversation for another day. 

I think he’s 21 when he decides to dig up jason’s body & ( attempt to ) burn it. I think finding a friend in therapy who believed him really fed that fire. He was the first person to ever really believe tommy ( other than trish --- bcs she lived it ) & tommy hits the ground running with that connection. It’s not rational but he’s sure it’s the only thing that's going to bring him peace. He has an extreme reaction when seeing the maggot-eaten corpse--- his psychiatrist had lied to him. she had told him that jason was cremated, but his remains were still intact. that’s when he impales jason & this whole scene goes down, resulting in jason’s revival. lowkey i like the idea of the whole thing happening on his birthday as it would give him a friday the 13th birthday & i’m dramatic. but we’ll see after i sleep.

he goes back to the unger institute by the end of it all. after he defeated jason, he expected it to be over, but it just meant he was put under closer watch. he had proof, witnesses to what he had experienced & it still wasn’t enough to convince anyone. he’s stuck in unger for a year before they decide that his ‘regression’ can only be fixed with medication & he spends the next several years convinced that it’s intentional. that this was all done with the purpose of keeping him quiet--- which to a dregree, it was. he was literally threatened by state police for tbeing so adamant about it all. i want to emphasize that he was right about enough things to make him feel like he had the whole picture, even if a lot the conspiracies in his head were made up. yes, they were trying to keep him quiet but not to the degree he thought.

when he’s 24  he enters a very extreme paranoid episode when he attacks his psychiatrist & flee’s unger. i think what may have triggered this was a change of medication, though i’ll think a little more on the subject. It’s shortly after he flee’s that the events of the friday the 13th game goes down & he shows up at crystal lake. though i know there’s no real ‘ storyline’ i love the idea of him coming back & playing hero & maybe the cops helping him fly under the radar because of his part in defeating Jason ( twice ) when he was younger. It sort of leaves him with the impression that he may not be as alone as he thought & helps kind of break his ‘ everyone is against me, tread carefully ‘ mentality.

[c-c-cherry]

Bucci Gang Headcanons!!!

I’m not really one to usually post this kind of stuff, but these are some lil headcanons my pal @jjadegreen and I have come up with while stuck in the same house during the quarantine!! 

These literally range from *probably would happen* to *fucking crack* so y’all have been warned...

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Giorno is one of those people that has a secret sweet-tooth. Like. An insane one where if he actually decides to indulge in it he cannot fucking stop. 

When he does go overboard, it’s usually because Bruno got his favourite ice cream flavour from the store and it’s always at some ungodly hour of the night.

He usually blames it on Mista somehow. Accidentally ate the entire tub of ice cream at 3am? No biggie. Just put the spoon on Mista’s bedside table while he’s asleep! 

Everyone blames Mista for it EVERY TIME and now he’s not allowed to eat any ice cream when they buy it. Mista thinks it’s the Sex Pistols because he swears he doesn’t remember doing it. 

Giorno just sits there like *sweats* “yeah uh no it had to be Mista, right? There’s definitely no one else it could be, right? Right??”

One time Abbacchio caught him in the act at like 4am and they have yet to bring it up.

He would spill Giorno’s big secret, but he really likes to see Mista suffer.

Narancia wears skirts sometimes and it’s not a big deal. He vibes, they all just vibe. No toxic masculinity here. 

Narancia is genuinely afraid of those “IF YOU DO NOT SEND TO 10 PEOPLE THIS WILL APPEAR AT THE END OF YOUR BED AT 3AM” emails.

One time he couldn’t do it because Bruno took his phone away and he sat in bed all night fucking trembling in fear of what chain mail monster would eat his face off this time.

Abbacchio hates geese. No one knows why. Not even Bruno.

Narancia’s real stand name IS Aerosmith, but he’s dead set on calling it Lil’ Bomber because “that’s his rapper name.”

Mista is lactose intolerant but he doesn’t know because he just thinks it’s normal to feel excruciating pain when you eat ice cream. 

“Like how pineapples hurt your mouth when you eat them.” -Mista probably

Bruno literally had to take him to the hospital one night because he inhaled too much ice cream and would not stop throwing up and Mista was like “wait this doesn’t happen to you??”

Trish hates butterflies because *fun fact!* butterflies often feed on not only nectar and fruit, but DECAYING CORPSES of animals! 

When she was a kid, she was walking in some alleyway and ran into a dead animal covered in butterflies. One landed on her arm and she fucking screamed. She will never look at them the same ever again...

Giorno loves to make things into butterflies when they all spend time together, and Trish literally has to suppress a shudder every time one goes near her.

Fugo is one of those people that is basically not afraid of anything, but when a fucking bee comes near him he will LOSE IT. He’s one of those people that will have to get up and run away from a bee when it flies near him.

If you tell him that it will leave him alone if he stops moving, he will punch you.

Giorno likes to make shit into bees sometimes just to fuck with him

Bruno does not like dogs. It probably stems from some childhood experience that went sour, but he does not care. He will be stone-faced during any mission or situation, but if a dog tries to jump up and greet him he will freak. The fuck. Out.

One time Narancia and Mista brought home a dog from the streets and mama Bruno was like “NOPE” and zipped himself out of existence.

Abbacchio found him locked in the closet under the stairs when he got home and made them get rid of it.

Leone was more of a cat person anyway.

Abbacchio eats raw pasta.

Fugo plays chess with himself. When Giorno joins the team he’s like “ugh finally an intellectual” but Giorno has literally never seen a fucking chess board in his life and is too scared to tell Fugo so he just keeps making up excuses as to why he doesn’t “have time” to play chess with him today.

Mista doesn’t shower but he has a BOMB-ass face-care routine. Even Trish is jealous. His face? Baby soft? Ten out of ten. The rest of him? Axe body spray out of ten.

Narancia went through a goth phase pre-canon. Abbacchio was not happy because Bruno kept referring to him as “little Abba” but he let Narancia use his good lipstick anyway.

Mista found his special hat in a street gutter on a rainy day and it matched his sweater so he decided to just keep it. Abbacchio does Trish’s makeup. They go to Sephora together. I don’t make the rules.

Giorno never really told anyone (besides Bruno) that he got his stand naturally so they all assume he got it from Polpo’s lighter and when he mentioned something off-hand about “when I was a kid Gold and I…” everyone’s just like “bitch hold up-”

Abbacchio wears coloured contacts and his ass literally cannot see without them. 

Yes they are expensive as fuck. He blows half his pay-check on them every month. 

One time he lost them right before a mission so he had to pull out his heavy prescription glasses from like 8th grade. They literally looked like this.

I think you can imagine the outcome

Growing up, Giorno only listened to three songs. 

The only reason he had access to these songs was because he found a really old Walkman on the side of the road when he was wandering around once. The tape only had three songs on it; Dancing Queen, It's Raining Men, and some song by Mozart. These were the three songs of Giorno’s childhood. 

He still has it and likes to listen to the tape when he gets sad

Narancia doesn’t know what a period is. Neither does Mista. 

Bruno forces everyone into the living room after overhearing this and makes them all watch one of those really awkward sex-ed videos from the 90s (you know the ones)

It was one of the worst days of their lives

They still have the tape and Narancia sometimes slips it in the VHS player when they all least expect it just to fuck with everyone

Bruno once held a capo meeting at their house (biggest mistake of his life) and all you could heard blasting through the walls of the other room was “YoUr bOdy MiGht Be gOiNg tHrOuGh sOmE cHaNgEs, fOr eXaMpLe yOuR P-”

On that note, Giorno was definitely that one kid who took notes during Sex-Ed

Abbacchio listens to Avril Lavigne

Giorno shaves his arms. It kind of started by accident but now he literally cannot stop or else his arms will look completely fucked up

Bruno has sensitive teeth. He can’t drink water that’s too cold cause it hurts his mouth. Abbacchio makes him tea :)

Fugo plays piano to help him with his anger. He would say that he plays saxophone too, but it’s more like violently screeching into the mouthpiece instead of actually playing it.

Narancia thinks that lesbian is a nationality

Even though Giorno lived in Japan for just a couple years, he’s still pretty fluent in the language because his mother would only speak Japanese to him growing up

The gang has no idea that Giorno is Japanese and when a foreigner is struggling Giorno just swoops in with perfect Japanese and they’re all just really confused.

Giorno doesn’t cry during movies or TV shows, but he’s one of those people who fucking BAWLS during video game credits

Mista and Narancia beat Ocarina of Time together and Giorno was watching from the sidelines and AS SOON as the credits started rolling there were tears.

When KK Slider starts to sing in Animal Crossing New Horizons and your character is brought into a music void and the credits start rolling he tears up just a little bit

Mista is squeamish around dead bugs. Not live ones. Dead ones and solely dead ones

Mista and Trish go thrifting. Mista goes to check the pockets of clothes for spare cash (cause he’s a broke bitch) and Trish goes to buy clothes

Everyone thinks that Mista doesn’t change his clothes but he actually just buys like 7 of the same outfit

Mista sneezes like a white sports dad. You know the sneeze.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bonus Bruabba shit because Jade and I always go fucking HARD when talking about our local mafia dads:

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bruno ties up the little strings on Abbacchio’s tiddy shirt every morning.

They got promise rings. Leone’s trying to find a nice time to actually propose but the gang keeps fucking it up every time they try to go on a nice date together

Bruno and Leone watch thunderstorms together

-The rest of the bucci gang stay inside and play monopoly or something when’s its stormy but these two bring out blankets and sit on the front porch and just be all soft and shit watching the lightning light up the sky and listening to the rain on the roof above them.

Bucciarati and Abbacchio have been mistaken as the following: 

Bruno as a woman and Abbacchio as a man. Abbacchio as a woman and Bruno as a man. Two lesbians. But never an actual gay couple.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Yeah so I have no idea what that was. These were taken from a google doc we have together that’s just all these jumbled, crack-filled headcanons just for fun. I’m sure you can sense the pure chaos in this. 

Go give my dude @jjadegreen a hello, sis made most of these!

uhhh let us know if you want any more from any other parts. Cause y’all know we probably got some. <3

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #230: THE LAST FAREWELL!

April, 1983

“Yellowjacket no more!”

Aw, dang! Hank got raptured!

Captain America, Thor, and Hawkeye is a weird collection of characters to be staring forlornly at the empty Yellowjacket uniform.

Thor hasn’t really expressed much about the Yellowjacket situation in comparison. You think they could squeeze Wasp into the shot. Just her ex-husband is all. She’s just the team leader is all.

Put Wasp on the cover, you cowards.

So last times on Avengers: Hank Pym got himself kicked out of the Avengers and out of his marriage and pretty much deserved it. He was tricked into committing treason by his arch-nemesis Egghead and sent to jail. He sat in jail for, like, a really long time. The wheels really spun on the arc.

He was kicked out of the Avengers/walked before he could be kicked out in #213. He was arrested at the end of issue #217. His trial was in issue #228.

He was kidnapped from his trial by the Masters of Evil. Then in #229, he turned the tables on them all in quite a satisfying manner and slugged Egghead in the egg head.

Then Hawkeye manslaughtered him. He’s dead.

Hawkeye arrowed the science gun to stop Egghead from shooting Hank in the back and then the science gun backfired and microwaved that egg.

This makes Hank’s victory a little bittersweet for him.

Hank Pym: “I defeated the Masters of Evil single-handed... but more than anything, I wanted to bring Egghead to justice. He was a thorn in my side for so many years. I was never able to defeat him for long, not when I was Ant-Man... and not even after I became Giant-Man! He bedeviled me in every identity I assumed. He did me the greatest wrong when I was Yellowjacket. I’d already ruined my Avengers career, when he tricked me into committing a federal crime!”

Hawkeye too is set to thinking by what happened. Maybe humming a bit of Bohemian Rhapsody to himself too.

Hawkeye: “This is unreal! I’ve never killed a man before! I never planned on anything like this happening! Yeah, but I can’t feel sorry for Egghead! If anyone deserved this, he did! My brother Barney bought the farm, stopping Egghead from killing the Avengers. And if I hadn’t acted when I did, Hank Pym would be dead! If I had to do it again... I would!”

Hawkeye: ‘Eh, fuck ‘em!’

hah.

But Hank laments that with Egghead dead, so goes his chance of proving his innocence by turning him over to the law.

Hank Pym: “Egghead was always getting away from me, Hawkeye. It’s almost as if he’s pulled the ultimate escape!”

Fun fact: There doesn’t seem to be an Ultimate Egghead! Why would there need to be? Even more than in the 616, Ultimate Hank Pym is by far his own worst enemy.

Hawkeye basically tells Hank to buck up and that there’s basically incriminating evidence lying all over the place.

He doesn’t say it but even Egghead’s dead deceased corpse is kind of like evidence. Evidence that he wasn’t dead until recently.

Captain Marvel shows up because someone finally came looking for Hawkeye.

Hank is surprised, much like others have been that this is Captain Marvel. He knew the old guy, the super saiyan. And I guess he didn’t hear there was a new one.

Hawkeye: “We’ve had a few changes since you went in the slammer, Hank. C.M. is an Avenger in training.”

Huh. Captain Marvel doesn’t even react to the dead body. Then again, there’s a lot of bodies lying all around the place.

And while Hawkeye is introducing the new Captain Marvel to Hank, one of those bodies stirs.

Moonstone has regained consciousness and assesses the situation. She could blast Hank, Captain Marvel, and Hawkeye with her coherent light pew pew but that’d just weaken her.

Like in the previous issue, Moonstone is one of the few supervillains who knows when to fold ‘em.

So she decides to skeedaddle while the getting is good but whoops.

Getting wasn’t good.

The rest of the Avengers have shown up and cornered her while she was pondering.

So Moonstone decides ‘eh fuck it’ and promises to spill all the beans if it gets her a lighter sentence.

So days later, the mostly off-screen trial of Hank Pym finally ends.

A loooot of new evidence suddenly popping up led the prosecution to withdraw all charges.

The lead prosecution witness, Trish Starr, suddenly reversing her testimony after putting on Tony Stark’s magical mental-scan helmet kind of tanked the case, really.

Wait, they really did just admit the use of the helmet in the trial when its new, unsubstantiated technology whose inventor disappeared?

Damn, I knew the Marvel legal system was wild (considering comic books as legal documents as explored in Dan Slott’s run on the character) but still!

Although it makes sense. Egghead got Trish to incriminate Hank by using the bionic arm to alter her memories. The helmet Tony invented undoes that kind of alteration. This connects the dots quite reasonably. Glad Stern was paying attention when preparing to finish this arc.

Moonstone and Beetle confirming that Egghead was using Hank as a tool also helps.

In fact, not only did the prosecution drop all their charges, the judge also dismissed all the charges. Which feels redundant? I dunno much about law, really. Just the She-Hulk version of law. Which, again, uses comic books as legal documents.

Apparently happening at around the same time, Hawkeye also had his day in court.

Literally a day.

It wasn’t a trial, just a hearing to investigate whether he was guilty of wrong-doing in the death of Egghead.

Newsman with a newsplan: “Though he was threatened with contempt-of-court charges a number of times -- Hawkeye was found innocent of any wrong-doing in the death of Dr. Elihas Starr -- the self-styled Egghead.”

Yeah, I bet Hawkeye was threatened with contempt-of-court a bunch. And I bet you anything that at least one of the times he rejoined with “No, you’re out of order! This whole damn courtroom is out of order!”

And then the judge probably just sighed.

I mean, look at that unbelievable Hawkeye in the bottom left panel.

Anyway, I think Stern must have felt a little pent up having to start his Avengers run finishing off someone else’s story, especially having to devote a recap issue to it since the plot had been interspersed with fill-ins.

Because in the middle of concluding this arc, he throws in two plot beats that I have to assume are to set up stuff of his own.

A day after the trial, the Beetle is being escorted to a cell in a Western Pennsylvanian federal maximum security prison when he bumps into another prisoner.

What neither the Beetle or the guard notices is that the bump to “Sam Smithers” has peeled off some skin on his arm and revealed THAT HE IS ACTUALLY MADE OF WOOD!

Suspect possibly a living puppet.

And elsewhere but samewhen, IN SPACE, specifically on Saturn’s moon Titan, Thanos’ brother Eros is basically complaining about being bored.

When Captain Mar-vell died of having a lot of cancer, he asked Eros to look after Mar-vell’s... uh... -google- robot girlfriend?? Elysius.

Eventual mom to Genis and Phyla-Vells.

Soooooo, Eros has done as Mar-vell’s deathbed wish was and spent an agonizing several consecutive months hanging out in Titan’s beautiful inside forests and just having a real hard time caring about one thing for such a long period of time.

I’m not even being unfair to him.

Eros: “This is the first time in ages that I’ve spent so many consecutive months on Titan! I have ever been a wanderer! I’ve sought out adventure across the wide cosmos. Frankly, I have known romance on more worlds than most sentient beings could imagine. That’s part of the problem. Our friendship has been wonderful, but I’m having a hard time adjusting to it. My previous relationships have all been of a fleeting nature.”

‘Look its not you, its me’ except for attempting to dump someone as a friend, instead of romantically.

Not dump, even. He just kind of wants to ditch her and is asking in a roundabout way if she’s emotionally stable enough to ditch.

She goes, yeah sure, go off and have fun. And maybe she’s getting tired of his company too.

Elysius: “Look... you’ve been a great comfort to me these last few months, but now I need to be alone for a while with my thoughts.”

Geez, how clingy has he been this whole time while desperately wanting to be anywhere else?

Anyway, since she’s fine with him fucking off, he does fuck off. Right to the Hall of Science.

Where Eros’ dad is like ‘oh ffs’ when Eros tells him that he needs to use the LIVING COMPUTER Isaac to look up planets with the highest adventure potential.

Mentor of Titan is a man deeply disappointed in both of his sons for very different reasons.

Anyway, would you really be surprised if I told you that Earth was in the Top 3 planets in known space for adventure?

You wouldn’t, right?

Meanwhile, back at the plot, Hank Pym is on a boat with Trish Starr.

She wants to apologize for that time she incriminated him but Hank isn’t going to blame her for being as much a pawn in Egghead’s scheme as he was.

Trish: “Yes, uncle was like that all of his life. I think he really enjoyed using people.”

And she remembers the first time they met in Marvel Feature #5, where Egghead tried to drain her mind to power his machines. Because. Batteries hadn’t been invented? Because he’s just not happy unless he’s screwing over someone else?

Second one sounds likeliest.

She also remembers the time he car bombed her car but siphoned out most of the gas first.

Trish: “He didn’t want to kill me... only maim me. Nice guy, my uncle.”

Yeah. Its stories like that why its only Trish and Hank also Fred Sloan on a boat at Egghead’s funeral. Yeah, by the way, this is basically Egghead’s funeral.

Fred is only here for Trish.

Hank reacts to Fred so I wondered if he’s important in some way or if Hank recognized him but I checked the wiki and his main importance seems to be... this issue? So I don’t know why Hank reacts to the guy.

So Fred is just here for Trish. Trish is here out of duty, since she was Egghead’s only known family. And Hank is also only here out of duty but more archnemesis ‘can’t believe that asshole is dead and I don’t even get to feel good about it’ duty. I assume.

Hank even gets the honor (?) of laying Egghead to rest. By dumping his ashes into New York harbor.

Mostly because it doesn’t seem like Trish wants to?

So Hank quotes some Mark Twain and dumps the ashes.

Hank Pym: “‘Death... the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuge are for all -- the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.’ Farewell, Egghead.”

Trish: “It’s awful to say this -- but I can’t find it in myself to be sorry. I think I’m glad he’s dead.”

And that’s Egghead’s legacy. Mourned by no one. And his death is only not cheered because the only people that cared feel shitty about feeling glad he’s dead.

ANYWAY, there’s some other loose ends to tie up.

So Hank takes a taxi to the Avengers Mansion and I guess finally explicitly explains why the mansion has seemed to change positions over time?

Hank Pym: “I never thought I’d be coming here again. The place has certainly changed since the day Jan and I met here with Iron Man, Thor, and the Hulk to draft the Avengers charter and by-laws. And I still recall the time Iron Man and Thor moved the mansion back from the street to give us more privacy. What a project that was!”

Sounds like a heck of a noodle incident, Hank.

... Why just Thor and Iron Man? Did they... did they literally just shove the mansion back from the street? ... There’s... basements and caves under there. How does that work? That seems like a massive architectural project.

Hank, pls, I need to know more details. You can’t just drop that information and casually stroll away. HANK!

Captain Marvel meets Hank at the door and escorts him inside, captain marveling at how calm Hank is despite everything he’s been through.

Hank shows up to the Avengers meeting and-

Oh god, She-Hulk looks like she wants to punch the suppressed emotions right out of Jan. She-Hulk, pls.

So, Wasp is super formal, calling Hank Dr. Pym and telling him that they want to use the mento-scan helmet to see if he was under outside influence when he did all the very bad things he did.

All of the Avengers are harboring their own concerns.

She-Hulk: “I’ve read legal briefs that were more informal! She’s cool on the surface, but inside -- ! Jannie, why are you doing this to yourself?!”

Are you guys already at the cute nickname stage of your friendship or is that just the way She-Hulk be?

Cap is worried that this is rough on Jan but that she’s doing what she needs to do as the Avengers chairwoman. But he’s more worried about the absence of Iron Man who is still missing and who ignored three calls to assemble.

Thor is just internally like ‘just do the helmet, my dude.’

Hawkeye is literally biting his lip at the tension.

Hawkeye: “Jan divorced Hank after his last breakdown. If we find out that he wasn’t to blame, what’s it gonna do to the both of ‘em? I hate this! That stupid court hearing was a breeze in comparison.”

Huh, Hawkeye has a point. Even if outside influence is proven, its not as straightforward as Jan and Hank instantly getting back together, no harm no foul. There was harm. And the problems with their relationship were deeper than one incident. But it would also create this possible expectation that they should get back together because the specific incident wasn’t Hank’s fault.

And Captain Marvel is still looking at this from an outsiders’ perspective.

Captain Marvel: “They’re really hurting over this... all of them! They all care so very, very much. If I ever become a fully active Avenger, I pray that I can live up to their example.”

So Hank very calmly agrees to use the helmet. But...

Hank Pym: “Sorry... no outside influences. It would have changed a lot of things if there had been, wouldn’t it? But no, I made my own mistakes... and I have to live with them.”

Thiiiiis was the best decision for the story arc. It may seem, in retrospect, the worst decision in the long run, but I can respect the story for standing by what it has done and standing by the growth Hank has had as a result of everything that happened.

I think a lot of more modern marvel comics have gone a little wild with letting the heroes do all kinds of dubious things and also die because it can be easily undone. It was a Skrull, they were being mind-controlled, it was an AU Nazi version of them created by a cosmic cube child. Or by giving the hero some big redemptive moment like Iron Man wiping his mind to make up for doing Civil War. Or Iron Man dying to make up for Civil War 2. You can explore whatever scenarios you want without worrying about dealing with the consequences long-term.

But in this era of Marvel, they were concerned with the long-term. Not to say that there weren’t cop-outs back in this day too. But since books were expected to keep going indefinitely instead of being cancelled and relaunched, there’s less of a sense of ‘this thing is only here to play with for a little while.’ If you wrote a thing, another writer was expected to follow up on it.

And I miss that a little.

So not giving a cop-out bullshit thing that undoes Hank’s actions was bad in the long run for his image as a character. But that’s a long way from now problem, exacerbated by writers like Chuck Austin and Mark Millar who wanted to wallow in it.

For an arc where Hank fell from grace and proved himself again, taking ownership of what a garbage fire his life can be was necessary.

One among many reasons I probably won’t like the Crossing when I get to it, haha.

With Hank’s actions proven as being Hank’s actions, Hank says there’s one more loose end that he wants to help tie off.

He wants to participate as witness when the Avengers hold a court of inquiry for Hawkeye killing Egghead.

This comes as an absolute surprise to Hawkeye, who I guess never read the bylaws. Which honestly, is very in-character for him.

But it being brought up, he insists that all he has to do is enter the findings of the state judge and be done with it.

Hank insists he participate though.

Hank Pym: “Hawkeye is faced with charges because he acted in my defense. It’s only right that I act in his.”

So, the Avengers go to the first floor library, which is apparently the court of inquiry room. I feel like we’re suddenly getting a lot of details about the layout of the Avengers Mansion in recent issues.

So Wasp convenes the court all formal style, so formal style that Hawkeye thinks that stickler Cap(tain America) couldn’t have done a better job. The purpose of the court of inquiry is to determine the validity of the charge of “unreasonable use of deadly force” and determine what if any proper disciplinary action should be taken.

I think Hawkeye is annoyed at having to go through with this (read the bylaws, my dude) because when Wasp asks if he has anything to add to his claim of innocence of the charge, he says he already gave the court copies of the court transcript that cleared him of the same charge, but also decides to speechify a little, because he wasn’t accused of contempt of court enough today.

Hawkeye: “I have already given the chair copies of the transcript of a hearing of the state courts... a hearing which found me not guilty of the same charge. And I have something else to say as well!”

“I don’t deny that my actions caused the death of Egghead. But in no way did I use undue force! I found Hank Pym in mortal danger, and I used the necessary means to save him... period. After all, we are supposed to be the Avengers, right?”

Luckily for Hawkeye, the Avengers are more willing to put up with him than a state court so Jan just goes ‘ok, noted.’

Captain Marvel also has a minor change of heart on Hawkeye. I don’t think we’ve gotten her in-depth feelings on him before (although he did get pissy about her joining the team, we didn’t see her response to that) but she’s impressed because she thought he had more wind than conviction but is seeing that isn’t so. And she’s also impressed by Serious Mode Jan who she thought was kind of flighty.

Captain Monica Marvel seeing all kinds of new sides of the Avengers lately.

Also, this isn’t important and you won’t be able to see what I mean unless I included more caps than I wanted to, but in the panel establishing the court of inquiry, Monica is just standing off to the side. But in the next panel she appears in, she’s moved over to sit on a couch instead.

I think its a framing thing but its still kind of funny to imagine her going ‘wait why am I standing up’ and heading for the comfy couch.

With Hawkeye’s statement given, Wasp invites Hank Pym to speak his piece.

And Hank gets up and gives an entirely unnecessary but probably appreciated defense of Hawkeye.

Hank Pym: “Ladies and gentlemen... I have not always been on the friendliest of terms with Hawkeye. Point of fact, we nearly came to blows a number of times... back in the days when I was an Avenger. But in all the time I’ve known him, Hawkeye has never used undue force.”

“I realize that this inquiry is little more than a formality. I have no doubt that you will find in his behalf. He did, as he said, act only in my defense. Unlike my own recent case before you, there is not the slightest hint of misconduct or negligence. The only thing Hawkeye is guilty of is being a good Avenger.”

“When I last spoke before this body, at my court-martial, I was not in a rational state of mind. I was unfit to be an Avenger. You wisely expelled me. I never expected to speak before you again. And now, I can think of no finer final statement than this... It has been my sincere honor to have known Hawkeye’s fellowship... as it has to have known yours.”

Okay. So. Half a defense of Hawkeye. And half... just a general good-bye and a demonstration that he actually does know how to deliver a defense at a court-martial. Cool.

I imagine if he had a mic, he would have dropped it.

Probably not, actually. Hank isn’t that exact blend of cool and inconsiderate for a mic drop.

Jarvis intercepts Hank on his way out and asks that he come with him to the second floor study. Jarvis has taken the liberty of gathering up the personal items Hank just kind of left in the mansion and packing them for him.

One suitcase has a bunch of Hank’s clothes that he had stashed in the mansion over the years. Including some wacky ties for wacky tie Fridays and a shirt that Hank had just plumb lost.

The other suitcase is a spare Yellowjacket outfit. In case Hank ever needs it.

Then Hank and Jarvis shake hands, Hank thanking Jarvis for everything that he’s done for him and the Avengers. He asks Jarvis to take care of himself because he knows he doesn’t have to ask him to take care of the Avengers.

This is a very touching scene. Its so touching that Jarvis excuses himself to go get misty eyed.

This is a Jarvis appreciation blog because I appreciate Jarvis as well.

Then, as Hank heads back down the staircase, he is intercepted by Thor, Captain America, and Hawkeye.

Yeah, the court of inquiry resolved off-screen because of how forgone a conclusion it was.

The three Avengers basically fall all over themselves to pat Hank on the back. Hank actually looks somewhat panicked by the positive affirmation.

That’s some mixture of funny and sad that I can’t identify.

Hawkeye tells Hank how much he appreciated his unnecessary defense. Thor clasps Hank’s shoulder and tells him he’s a class act, but in Thor-y words. And Cap extends an offer for whatever the Avengers can do to help Hank get back on his feet.

Hank thanks him for the offer but he’s already received an offer from a small research foundation in the Midwest.

Seems like getting exonerated of a treason charge is the best resume of all. That and Hank’s actual impressive resume.

But Cap has some stuff to work out re: Hank because he starts off on the stuff he put on the back burner back in that Ghost Rider issue.

Cap(tain America): “Hank... I know Iron Man would agree, if he were here, that we’re all sorry about the way things worked out. We should have realized the pressures you’d been under, prior to your breakdown. I was group leader at the time! I should have -- !”

Hank Pym: “Hold it right there, Cap! What I did, I did to myself! If I could have admitted that my problems existed... If I’d been willing to open up to you folks... Well, ‘if’ can be a big word sometimes. The fact of the matter is, I screwed up. And you did the only thing you could do! I don’t blame any of you.”

Hank has boarded the personal responsibility train and goddammit he’s riding it to the end of the line!

Good for him. Good clarity for the arc to have in its last issue.

But having started to slightly shout at the Avengers that he’s taking responsibility dammit! (he looks a bit pissed when he’s responding to Cap) Hank awkwardly excuses himself.

Cap tries to stop Hank from leaving because he has reached the bargaining stage of grief, I guess.

Cap: “Hank, wait! It doesn’t have to end like this! We could make a special amendment to the by-laws! We could reinstate you as an Avenger! You could be a special reservist -- !”

Hank: “Thanks, Cap. But no thanks. Trying to play super hero was the biggest mistake I ever made with my life! I was only fooling myself in ever thinking otherwise. But if you ever really think you might need a Yellowjacket again some day...”

He hands Cap the Yellowjacket suitcase.

Hank: “... Here! All you need is a good man and what’s in this case!”

I would hope, anyway. It’s going to be awkward if he opens it up later and its full of wacky ties.

The funny thing, although not really funny ha ha, is that Yellowjacket is the one codename of Hank’s that never really catches on outside of him.

You have multiple Ant-Men, a couple Goliaths, at least one other Giant-Man. There was a second Yellowjacket, eventually. But she didn’t make a big splash.

Despite Hank’s attempt here to pass the torch, Yellowjacket is a codename that remains inextricably tied to him. Which might be the problem. If there were another, more successful or at least more endearing Yellowjacket, Hank’s infamy in the role would not stand out so much.

Alas.

She-Hulk and Captain Marvel try next to intercept Hank. They don’t know him very well but they wanted to say their goodbyes too, despite not really knowing him that well.

Its the thought that definitely counts, probably.

But Hawkeye has some social awareness for a change and draws their attention to Wasp who is hanging back, but who clearly wants to talk to Hank.

So the rest of the Avengers quickly vacate to let Hank and Jan finally have closure. Or re-closure. “I want a divorce and to never see you again” is a kind of closure.

The situation has changed, however.

They both try to apologize to each other and then laugh at the awkwardness.

Hank: “Janet van Dyne, you are one in a million! After all that I put you through, you want to tell me that you’re sorry?”

Wasp: “I think we both made some mistakes along the way, but there were some good times... weren’t there?”

Hank: “Yes. But you can’t base a marriage on just a few good times. I fell for the young lady who reminded me of my first wife... and you thought you’d found the strong, silent hero. But I was never that strong, Jan. You know that now.”

Wasp: “Uh-huh.”

Damn, his prison time really did bring Hank a lot of clarity. That or the pile of therapists Tony kept throwing at him.

Hank also kind of talks over Jan here. Or at least steers the conversation. I don’t know what Jan would have said because Hank tells her that they both have other lives to lead and tells her to take care of herself.

Maybe its for the best, if, like Cap, she was going to try to shoulder all the blame for Hank’s bad decisions.

Hank walks out the door and finds Trish and Fred from the boat waiting to give him a ride to the airport. And then he is gone.

Like in the final image of the COURT-MARTIAL issue, Jan watches at the window.

“The last time Henry Pym left these walls, Janet felt like crying... but couldn’t find any tears. Today, at last, she has found the tears... for her former husband... for her team... for herself. Today, there is pain and remorse and release. There will be time enough for joy and hope tomorrow.”

Emotional catharsis can be like that.

In that the book kept going ‘Jan is really holding her emotions in and that’s probably not overall great for her’ its good that she can let it out now.

Kind of laughing at Captain Marvel and She-Hulk who only recently just met Jan being the ones going there there while the men she has known for years are just awkwardly standing in the background.

And that’s the fall and rise of Hank Pym. Apparently collected in trade as The Trial of Yellowjacket, which is a decent enough name too.

Overall, a good arc. That is kind of hampered by the need for filler and a writer change near the end. But honestly, Stern catches the ball and runs with it. He concludes the arc just as good as Shooter would’ve.

This arc is all kinds of iconic for Hank, although, unfortunately, most people are only aware of the beginning and maybe have a hazy understanding of what the ending does.

Although. This is a really good send-off for Hank. A really, really good send-off that would have worked best if he did like he said and quit superheroing forever.

That’s not to be, obviously, not in a perpetual narrative machine like Marvel. But it feels like it could have been and maybe should have been the last word on his character.

I enjoy Hank in Busiek’s Avengers and in Avengers Academy. And also, conceptually, Hank telling Reed “it’s on, bitch.” I very don’t enjoy Ultimate Hank Pym. So its a balancing act. The perfect exit for the character vs but I like some stuff when they brought him back.

Anyway.

After this, Stern gets to move on to his own material. Which he already planted the seeds for in this issue.

That’s a pun.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because of my bad puns. Also like and reblog, if you like to reblog.

[gifti3]

Welcome to Heavenly Host (GN!Reader x Bruno)

JJBA X Corpse Party Oneshot

AO3 Link

Summary:

You walk carefully down the dusty hallway, doing your best to avoid tripping on any of the uneven floorboards.

The man in front of you reaches his hand out towards you. You take it in your own. The warmth was comforting and a reminder that you aren’t alone.

-----

A/N: Guess who’s back with another game and jjba fusion??? Me of course :V

This was supposed to be for Halloween but I completely missed the mark lmao But yea, I wanna thank my friends who read over this for me and helped it get to how it is now! 

Anyways enjoy a bit of horror and Bruno being there for you 💓

-----

Today was supposed to be a bittersweet one as it was one of your students’ last day attending this school. Your other students had decided to throw their friend a goodbye party after school, and you and Bruno were chaperoning.

As the party was coming to an end, Trish pulled out a piece of paper cut into the shape of a human.

It's a charm. I read online that if we each take a piece after saying a chant, it’ll make sure we stay friends forever.

One moment everyone was getting ready to leave after tearing a piece of the doll and saying the chant. The next, there was shaking, falling and screaming.

-----

When you wake up and realize you're not in your bed, any drowsiness you have immediately vanishes. You push yourself off the ground and look around the room. Where did everyone go? The only thing you find is scattered desks and cracked floorboards. You are completely alone.

Near your foot lies the paper doll piece that you had torn. For some reason, you decide to hold onto it and pick it up off the dirty floor to keep safe in your jacket pocket.

Unsure of what else to do, you walk towards the classroom door and out into the dimly lit hallway. 

One look down the hallway and you confirm the suspicion that you aren’t even in your school anymore. It looks much more like an elementary school than a high school. 

You look through one of the hallway windows into the moonlit scenery outside and see a seemingly endless forest surrounding the school.

How did I get here? Am I dreaming?

This felt all too real to be a dream and no amount of pinching was waking you up. 

Eventually, while aimlessly wandering around, you manage to find what looks like a way to get outside, but the door won’t budge no matter how much you push against it. 

You lean your shoulder against the wall adjacent to the door, unsure of what to do now. Is something blocking it from the outside? 

While catching your breath, you decide to head back to the classroom you had first started in. 

You step away from the door and someone takes a step behind you. 

You quickly turn,“...Hello?” 

No one responds.

….this really sucks.

Your feet stay glued in place as you stare down the empty hallway. The ajar doors of the dark classrooms feel much more threatening than before.

But you can’t stand there forever.

You gather your courage and start walking down the hall, your focus completely straight ahead.  The paranoia you’re feeling is probably childish but you can’t push the feeling down.

You ignore the classrooms, the windows, the weird feeling of being stared at and the sound of steps behind you.

You finally reach the end of the hallway, which felt much longer than before, and sharply turn right. The classroom is up ahead but you aren’t so sure going in there is a good idea anymore. Your feet pick up the pace. If you could make it in fast enough, maybe you would still have time to close the door?

Your jog becomes a run but before you can turn into the classroom, another body comes from inside the room and you crash.

Two hands grab your forearms and you prepare yourself to fight for your life.

“___!”

You stop your leg mid kick and open your eyes. You hadn’t even realized you shut them.

“....Bruno?” You look into concerned blue eyes.

The relief you feel that moment is immeasurable. Finding someone else—finding Bruno—helped quell a bit of your fear, but your heart was still rapidly beating away.

“What’s wrong?”

You whip your head around to finally look behind you and see nothing. “I... what the?”

Confused, you turn back towards Bruno and wipe your hands down your face.

-----

You walk carefully down the dusty hallway, doing your best to avoid tripping on any of the uneven floorboards.

The man in front of you reaches his hand out towards you. You take it in your own. The warmth was comforting and a reminder that you aren’t alone.

“I really hope everyone else is okay.” You feel Bruno’s hand squeeze yours.

“They are very resilient," he tells you reassuringly.

You want to believe him but they’re still just kids.

"...I hope you're right."

Bruno adjusts his grip on your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"We'll find them."

-----

It must have been hours and you and Bruno had searched up and down this whole place and couldn’t find any exits or anybody. There were some areas you couldn't check since they were either locked behind a door, blocked off or missing the floorboards, making them unreachable. The only thing you had found was a flashlight that luckily still worked.

"We checked all the doors and windows, right?”

Both of you were currently in the “safe” classroom, as you decided to call it since you always managed to end up back here.

"Yes, unless there’re some hidden doors around here…" You place your arm on the desk in front of you and hold your head. "Maybe one of the places we couldn't reach has an exit, but we have to find a way to get there first."

Bruno leans against the wall near the chalkboard looking deep in thought.

You look down at the scratched desk, exhaustion gripping at you. Somehow you were tired but wanted to wake up at the same time. You just wanted this to be a silly nightmare.

Bruno pulls a chair next to you and sits down. He grabs your hand. "Is this okay?"

You avoid his stare, "Sure."

You and Bruno keep contemplating what to do next when the surrounding area begins to glow blue.

Something floats at the corner of your eye and you look over to see a small, blue fire floating in the air.

You jump from your chair, yanking Bruno's hand along with you.

"Don't be afraid. I want to help." A ghostly voice sounds around the two of you.

Your brain says to get away for all sorts of reasons, but for some reason, you don’t really feel in danger. Bruno must have felt it too because he gently pulls you back into your seat.

"What are you?" Bruno asks.

"A spirit of someone who died here a long time ago."

You go rigid and a cold sweat forms on your back.

"I've been watching you for a while and I want to try to help."

You speak up. "So you know a way to get out?"

“I can send you down the right path but if there’s a way to get out of this school, it would be very hard. I’ve never seen anyone manage to do it and I’ve seen many people pass through here.”

You frown. You already felt doubtful about you and Bruno getting out of this situation, but now you’re beginning to feel straight up hopeless.

You somehow feel the spirit's attention turn towards you. “Keep your head up. Dwelling on the negatives won’t do you any good.”

That’s easier said than done…

Even though you know the spirit is trying to be helpful, you feel a hint of irritation. You turn your gaze away.

If no one has managed to escape, then what are the chances that we will. Can we even escape? This isn’t looking good at all.

“You okay?”

You look up. The spirit is gone.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. I’m fine.”

Bruno doesn’t look convinced at all, but you really don’t want to bother him with your doubts. You never really seek out comfort and would rather handle it on your own. Being vulnerable in a place like this would put more stress on Bruno anyway.

“Did the spirit say anything else?”

Bruno stares, face barely readable like always, and your feet suddenly become extremely interesting to you. “They said to keep exploring and try visiting the library…”

“Oh... Wait, library? I don't remember seeing a library.”

"It's behind one of the locked doors, we just need to find a way to open it."

"Maybe we can kick it down," you say, almost serious.

"Most likely." You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

"I was just kidding, Bruno. I actually think that's a terrible idea. We don't want to attract any angry ghosts. And before you say anything, there are definitely some evil spirits around here."

"I won't let anything hurt you."

You raise your brows at him, unsure of how to respond. That felt sudden, but you did feel a bit more reassured.

You laugh nervously, trying to change the mood. "Thanks, I'll try to do the same for you too."

He smiles at you gently and rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

-----

For some time now, you had been ignoring this feeling that was growing but all the drinks you had at the party were finally coming for you.

“Uh…” Bruno’s attention shifted to you but you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Can we go back to the restrooms? I need to use them…”

You don’t know why you feel so embarrassed but you wish it would go away.

“Of course, you don’t have to look so ashamed.”

You aren’t even looking at him but you know he has that stupid smile on his face.

When you reach the restrooms, you tell Bruno he can wait outside. He looks hesitant but agrees.

The sulfuric stench of rarely used bathroom hits you when you open the door of the pitch black room. You grab the flashlight, turn it on and tell Bruno you'll be quick. As freaked out as you are, you don’t really want him to hear you pee anymore than he probably will.

You shine the light towards the stalls.

Just hurry and get out.

You carefully walk towards the stall and reach your hand towards the handle. You open the door expecting something terrible, but it looks like any old dirty toilet.

You quickly take care of your business. There's even toilet paper. Lucky you.

You're surprised when the toilet actually flushes. Well at least there might be drinking water around here.

You exit the stall and head towards the sink, feeling a random chill. Ignoring it, you place the flashlight down and quickly wash your hands. You don't know why but you need to get out of here right away. It's too dark and you're scared to look around more than you need to. You turn off the tap and quickly grab the flashlight, keeping your gaze away from the mirror and head for the door. You push against it but it doesn't move.

What?

“B-Bruno...” You knock on the door and try pulling the handle again.  

“___? What’s wrong?” He must have pushed against the door since you feel it move slightly, but it quickly goes back into place.

"Why won't the door open?"

"I-I don't know!" You begin to sweat nervously and struggle to breathe.

Each time you and Bruno try the door, it barely budges. You feel the burn on your palms from your efforts.

“You should just give up.”

You freeze.

Your head slowly turns upwards as red glows down on you. What you see looks exactly like the blue spirit you met earlier except a very alarming red. And unlike the blue spirit, which seemed benevolent, this one was the complete opposite. You could feel bitterness and ill intentions radiating from it.

“W-What?”

“Do you think you can really get out of here? Out of this hell? I was naive just like you and your friend and look at me now."

The spirit floats down towards the center of the bathroom and you turn slightly to keep your eyes on it but keep yanking on the unmoving door's handle.

"You know dying from hunger is pretty painful. From thirst, also painful. And if those don’t take you out, one of the other spirits or shitty brats will. You should consider what I'm doing a favor.”

You don’t bother responding. All you know is that you are definitely stuck in here because of this pissed off spirit and that you would be in serious danger if you couldn't escape quickly.

Bruno's voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Who is that? ___!?"

"One of those s-spirits!"

“Don’t look so scared. The darkening has to be one of the least painful ways to go. Well I’m not exactly sure but hey, maybe you can tell me later."

"P-Please let me out, " you whimper.

The spirit continues as if you hadn't said anything at all.

"You know what really sucks about all this? If you die here, it's like you never existed. Everyone who didn't fall down here with you forgets who you were."

You truly die alone."

You shiver. Were you really going to die alone? Even if you do manage to get out of this bathroom, there's so many other dangers that could be waiting. What if you and Bruno never get out? What if something happens to him? You couldn't bear the idea of losing him. Of being alone. These thoughts swirl in your head to the point that they don't feel like thoughts anymore. This will happen.

You and Bruno won't make it out.

You'll both die here.

Your vision starts to cloud and you feel dizzy. You try to balance against the door but your hand moves through the air and you stumble.

You're sure you hear Bruno's voice but it sounds so muffled.

"I-I…"

"___! You have to listen to me! You aren't alone and we are both going to get out of this."

The fog in your mind clears slightly but you still feel so tired.

"But it's point...less…" You dropped your flashlight as your legs collapse under you.

"I need you to get away from the door. Can you do that for me?"

"...okay." You crawl towards the sinks.

"I'm a-away…"

The banging on the door starts to sound fainter and your vision gets darker as you struggle to breathe. "Bru…"

A few moments later and the door swings open and hits the wall adjacent to it.

The moment you see a figure rush in, you can feel the darkness start to subside.

He rushes towards you, slips an arm under your legs and carries you out of the bathroom. You shove your face into his shoulder, trying not to think of anything else but him holding you.

-----

You try to hold your tears back as you speak, "You can put me down now…"

He hesitates, at least you think he does, before he carefully places you on your feet, grabbing your hand before continuing to walk.

You both pass the safe room.

"Where are we going?"

"The infirmary" he says, a bit curt.

When you reach the room, Bruno lets you in first, following right after, before sliding the door shut and locking it.

You plop down on one of the cots but before you can ask if he's upset with you, Bruno sits next to you and pulls you into an embrace. You lean into him and the tears finally start to fall. You release shaky breaths as you try to get yourself back under control but the tears won't stop.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone."

You bark out a laugh, "There was no way I was letting you listen to me pee." Your voice cracks at the end of the sentence.

Bruno's nose brushes against your forehead before he places a kiss there. "It's okay to cry, cara."

Your forced smile falls and you let yourself cry freely into Bruno's chest as you cling onto the fabric of his shirt.

When you finally calm down your eyes feel heavy and you know they are very red.

You lay down upon Bruno’s suggestion.

"...Can you lay down with me?" you murmur.

Bruno lays down next to you on the cot. Even though you were the one who wanted him to, you feel your cheeks heating up. You’d never been this close to his face and you knew you didn't look the best right now.

His lips, that you definitely weren’t staring at, raise into a smirk. “Are you okay? You look more nervous than before.”

You turn onto your back. This was too much.

“I'm fine.” It's amazing how your body found the energy to feel self-conscious after everything.

“You’re so cute, tereso."

You groan and cover your face.

"Can you turn towards me for a moment?" Bruno asks.

Being with Bruno, this close to him, made you feel completely safe so you decide to let your guard down. Just for a moment.

You pout but do as he says and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"You should close your eyes for a little bit."

Too tired to complain about his sneak attack, you relax and begin to drift asleep, your fatigue from everything catching up with you.

As you slept, Bruno's arms squeezed protectively around you. He wouldn't let anything like that happen again.

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20,  Chapter 21, Chapter 22

Chapter 23

"Out late again, huh?" She said in a sassy tone.

"Up late again, huh! Shouldn't you be in bed already?"

"Were you out with that charr girlfriend again? Getting some of that, rawwrrrr?"

Kaleb lost it.

“SHUT UP RACHEL! I'm sick of your nonsense!"

She screamed back. "Well it's true! You have been seeing her, haven't you?"

"It's none of your damned business who I see!"

The commotion woke up their youngest sibling, Katie. Within a few moments, she ambled down the stairs carrying her stuffed teddy bear as she looked at her big brother with a sleepy set of eyes.

"Why are you yelling?"

Kaleb ran to her and picked her up. "Sorry sweetie. Your big sister and I were just having a little discussion. Rachel - put her to bed, please."

"Why me? You were the one who woke her up by yelling at the top of your lungs," Rachel retorted.

"DO AS I SAY!" Kaleb erupted.

Forgetting that he was holding his little sister close to his mouth, the force of his shout hurt Katie's ears to the point she started bawling. The noise had finally drawn the attention of Mother Shirley who had come to investigate what all the hoopla was about.

"What in Dwayna's name is going on here??" Mother Grimwald said tersely as she strode over to comfort a wailing Katie.

"Sorry, mom. It's just Rachel being a little mouthy brat, that's all," Kaleb commented while trying to console his bawling little sister.

"At least I'm not getting pussy...cat late at night with a charr!" Rachel shot back.

Kaleb was now flushed with rage. "Don't you know when to cut it??"

Shirley looked her son in the eyes as the nature of her facial expression began to change. "Rachel - take Katie to her room right this instant! Son - that look on your face... I've seen it before."

"What are you talking about, mom?"

"He's in love with that charr. The two of them have been doing it with each other. I have proof," Rachel said as she carried Katie up to her room.

"What are Kal and the charr doing with each other?" Katie asked innocently.

"Nevermind sis. When you get older, you'll understand," her older sister said as she opened the door to her younger sister's room.

"Kaleb! Is it... is it, true? Have you actually been...?" His mother was at a loss for words.

"Mom. Rachel is trying to embarrass me, that's all."

His mother's look suddenly changed from shock to an expression of sadness mixed with rage. "No. Nooo. By Lyssa's mercy, it can't be!!"

Shirley began to bawl openly as she pointed towards her son. Within moments, the elder Grimwald, Daniel, stepped in from the back kitchen door while hobbling along using a crutch. As soon as she saw her husband, she walked over towards him, nestled her head into his chest crying then pointed towards Kaleb.

"Our son has been having relations with that female charr! I know that look on his face anywhere. It's the look of a forlorn lover, that's what it is!" His mother's bawling became even more intense.

"What's this all about? Shirley, what in the Sixs' name is going on?" Daniel said as he tried comforting his distraught wife.

"He is in love with that charr whose life he saved, that's what. Ever wonder why he packed so much meat during his picnics?"

Moments later, Rachel came down the stairs carrying a large book with a tan parchment piece of paper inserted between the pages.

"He has been screwing that charr too. Here - I have proof!"

His sister ran to the dining room table then laid out the book. She opened it to the pages displaying the explicit illustrations of charr engaged in mating positions. She also placed the letter on the table that Amalthia had written to Kaleb as well.

Both of Kaleb's parents saw the illustrations as Rachel stood back with a wide, sinister grin on her face.

"Son. Is this true?" The elder Grimwald asked with a voice of shock.

"What are you talking about?" Kaleb responded.

"Did you have carnal relations with a charr?" His mother asked pointedly. "Rachel - go to your room NOW young lady. I will discuss the nature of your possession of such a filthy book at a later time. For now, just go!"

The middle child ran back to her room but not before giving Kaleb a razzing before departing.

"Answer you mother's question, son. Did you have unholy relations?" His father asked in an even tone.

Kaleb stood his ground. "Father, there is nothing about our relationship that is unholy. She and I have been together for awhile."

"Answer the damn question, son... did you have this kind of relationship with her?" His father said as he pointed towards the graphic illustrations.

"What business is it of yours if I did?" His son spat.

His mother summoned the courage to read the love letter. When she did her expression turned to sheer horror. Father Grimwald read it as well. When he did, his face darkened with anger.

"So it's true... you are in love with this charr."

Mother Grimwald became unhinged as she ran over, grabbed the objectionable book and began tearing the pages to shreds. As she shredded the material, she began reciting every scriptural verse she was able to recall.

"This evil is to never defile our blessed house again! Such immoral filth has corrupted your soul, son. May Grenth have mercy on your misguided deeds," she said as she frantically began gathering up the hewn remnants of the book.

"Well, Grenth can just stick it where the sun don't shine! Same goes for the other Five. And yes, I am in love with Amalthia. She has a name in case you didn't comprehend that. Oh, and hail Abaddon!" Kaleb snarked as he gave a mocking ceremonial bow to a god he did not believe in.

His father had reached his breaking point. "Son. You do not blaspheme the Six and you certainly do not praise the Fallen One. What's happened to you?"

"I fell in love, dad. With someone I truly care about and who truly cares about me. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Patricia cares about you, about us, about this family!" His father shot back.

"She only cares about this land, father. You more than anyone knows this to be true."

"Why, son. Whyyy??" Shirley started to bawl again.

"So you leave a perfectly beautiful girl with a prosperous loving family to be with, to be with an animal?"

Kaleb's rage had tipped the boiling point as well. "If you weren't my dad, I would deck you for calling Amalthia that. Grow a godsdamn backbone for a change, father! You only approve of Trish because Mom is so desperate for a Grimwald to pop out some grandkids. She doesn't have any clue how much Trish's father, Milton, has been coveting this land and for how long."

"That's it, son! You've talked back to me, insulted your mother, blasphemed the Six and committed unholy relations with a beast. You Kaleb Grimwald, are no longer welcome to stay under this abode!" His father shouted in a raging tone that Kaleb had never heard before.

"So you're kicking me out onto the streets? Who’s going to run your business?"

"My brother, Bill, and his son will offer a hand. Either way, I'll manage. I just want you out of this house within the hour. Otherwise I will call the authorities," Daniel said as he gave his son a harsh glare. Kaleb sunk to the floor as a torrent of tears fell from his dark brown eyes. Everything that he ever knew and loved was collapsing all around him at once.

It took a little over an hour for Kaleb to pack his belongings. When he was finished, he wandered with only a backpack over his shoulders and his trusty weapons by his side. As he was heading down, Katie opened the door from her room then ran down the stairs to hug him.

"You have a nappie pack on. Where are you going?"

Kaleb knelt down and hugged her. "It's okay, sweetheart. Big brother has to go away for a while. Remember, no matter what happens, your big brother will always love ya."

"How long will you be gone?" His little sister asked.

"I wish I knew, Katie," Kaleb said as he leaned past her and looked at his father's stern expression.

I wish I knew.

He departed the one place he had called home his entire life. Once a promising son who was slated to take over the wagon making business, was now unemployed, destitute and - for the first time in his life - without a place to call home.

Kaleb knew the only place that was like a home away from home for him was the Jotun's Corpse tavern. Perhaps Ulfgar would offer him a place to stay. He had the skills to become a freelance bounty hunter along with plenty of local connections, so finding a way of earning income wouldn't be a problem. At least he wanted to believe that, anyways.

When he arrived at the tavern, it was already past one in the morning. By this time, the establishment would normally be closed. However, on this night, he found that the gaslights were still illuminated. As he reached for the door handle, he noticed a hand-written note that was stuck to the front window.

Kaleb:

A special someone has been waiting here for you for quite some time. Feel free to come in.

~Ulf

The bar was empty save for the massive norn who was wiping down the mahogany top. Kaleb walked forward and Ulfgar waved for him to sit down.

"Took you long enough to get here. What's with the long face, boy?"

Kaleb looked down somberly. "Long story. I got your note on the door. Who's this 'special' someone?"

The old norn looked at him, smiled then waved his hand as if gesturing for an unseen someone to come on over. "Who could be, eh? A mighty fine lass, she is."

"Kaleb?" Came the voice from behind the young man.

He recognized it immediately.

"Amalthia??"

When he turned around to look, he saw her standing there, head bowed, her somber amber eyes looking straight at him. As she approached, her facial expression changed to a much more joyous one as she opened her arms wide.

"Kaleb! Get over here, you!" The two lovers embraced and Kaleb's heart was filled with a measure of happiness once more.

"I can't believe you waited all this time hoping that I'd be here. Not that I'm complaining, mind you," he said to her as they held hands.

Amalthia's ears twitched while squeezing his hand hard. "I would have slept in the pouring rain next to a mucking stall if it meant you would eventually be there. Kaleb, there's so much I have to tell you..."

"It's okay, Ama. I'm in the same boat too."

Ulfgar smiled at both of them then offered each a stein of mead. "Yer two outliers if I ever saw 'em. These are on the house. Now tell your good friend Ulf what happened, lad."

Amalthia looked at him and was curious as well. "At the risk of sounding like a drunken parrot, what did happen?"

Kaleb lowered his head as he stared into his mug. "My parents found out about our relationship - no thanks to my backstabbing little twit-of-a sister. Anyway, I got into a heated argument with my folks and wound up getting kicked outta the house."

"Oh no!" Amalthia said as she tried to console him.

"That's terrible news, lad." Ulfgar shook his head.

"So now, I have no place to go."

"Lad. You'll always have a place here when things get tough. So long as you can earn yer keep, there's a room upstairs waitin' for ya. Both of ya, in fact"

"Ulfgar, that is too kind of you. Thank you!" She said as she reached over to give the old norn a hug.

"It's never a problem helping friends. Your sire and I go way back and the least I could do is help his only cub. Besides, I would very much like to get to know you better as you won over one of the best humans I've ever had the honor of serving drinks to."

"Thank you, Ulf. It means a lot. Kaleb - I wanted to tell you that my sire, um... father holds no ill feelings towards you. What he did was just an act to convince mother we were no good to her anymore. From now on, she should no longer pose a threat to you or anyone. For all intents and purposes, she's out of our lives for good," Amalthia explained.

"Thank you, Ulfgar." Kaleb, then, looked at Amalthia and said. "None taken. I probably would have done the same thing had I been in his paw pads. You are lucky to have a father who protects you the way he does."

Kaleb gazed into her amber eyes then kissed her on the forehead. Amalthia's ears twitched in gratitude.

"I'm assuming you are no longer working for your family anymore. If that's the case then how do you plan on making an income?" She asked.

A sudden flash of inspiration came into Kaleb's mind. "Amalthia. How about you and I go into the business of freelance bounty hunting together? We worked really well as a team before and with your skills and mine paired together, we could make a killing! Quite literally, I might add too."

She thought about it for a moment before smiling and nodding to him in agreement. "Funny thing. I was thinking along similar lines as well. But what shall we call our little enterprise?"

Ulfgar chimed in. "Um. Outliers sounds like a fitting name if ya ask me."

Both Kaleb and Amalthia looked at each other and smiled widely.

"Outliers!"

"You are an inspiration, old friend!" Kaleb said as he clapped the norn on the shoulder.

Amalthia had a flash of insight of her own as well. "We need a theme to go with our brand. Hey! I could talk to Ariyana. She does all kinds of custom outfits. I think I could talk her into designing us some."

"Good call. But we are going to need a catchy logo of some sort. Oie! My brain is exhausted from all of the excitement," Kaleb said as he tried to think of some interesting concepts.

"There's been plenty of excitement for both of us, Kal. Ulf - I'm still employed by my sire so I've got plenty of coin if you need a down payment for rent," Amalthia said as she pulled a leather coin purse from her pocket.

"Thank you, lass. But you and Kaleb have to get your house in order first. I'll quote you a very fair price once the two of you get things squared. Now get some rest, both you pups. Tomorrow is a brighter day."

Ulfgar showed Kaleb and Amalthia the upstairs room that was available. Once they were settled into their new surroundings, the pair mutually decided that donning garments of any kind was far too burdensome. Thus, they stripped down until both were lying on the large bed, completely bereft of clothing.

Amalthia nestled her head against Kaleb's chest as she purred in contentment. "My lower horns aren't hurting you, are they?"

"Nah. You're fine, honey," he said as he began stroking her long, golden mane.

"I'm just glad to be here with you." Her voice became a soft purr as she pushed her muzzle into the crook of his neck.

Resting his hand between her larger upper horns and stroking her lovely mane, something dawned on him.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"This will be our first night in bed together. I sure hope you have some birth control," Kaleb said in a tongue-in-cheek tone.

"Oh shut your hole, you! We are birth control together. Besides, it's not like my plumbing works down there anyway," Amalthia said as Kaleb rolled on top of her.

"Crap! I forgot about that. I'm so sorry."

She just smiled then slid her raspy tongue down his mouth for a moment before withdrawing. "I'm not. Now stop talking and make love to me, you big not-so-hairy beast!"

That night two souls from two different worlds shared their love together, for the first time, under the same roof.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 23 is posted here.)

[harveywritings92]

Happy Death day to you [Dante’s Version.]

She's dead...she's dead, his Y/n was dead? how-how could she..."I was only gone for three days..wh-" he dropped the floor still processing Trish had told him, some truck driver ran a red light as some kids were crossing..he was drunk and didn't even notice them...Y/n ran out into the street and shoved them outta of the way and took the hit, She died on impact...

And with it Dante's will to live died with her, alcohol only numb him up, women? no point they weren't his N/n...His friends and family were worried about him, he didn't even go to her funeral. The half-Devil kept expecting the y/height woman to walk through his door like nothing happen ask how his gig went and life would return to normal...But no such luck. Y/n was dead and she wasn't coming back.

Three weeks later...

Dante was at a diner with Morrison and Patty they managed to dragged him out of his room with the prospects of a job. In reality they just wanted to get him outside and try to help him get back to normal goofball Dante. As Morrison explained the job details.

Dante's dull blue eyes traveled to a booth a few tables away he cocked a brow at the odd bunch, which consisted of a bald man with an olive complexion, tired grey eyes and an aura that screamed 'I'm too old for this crap.' Who was giving out orders and handing out post-it to the other's at his table.

a 40 something blond woman in a mailman's uniform and a wash out hippie who looked like Tommy Chong's lost love child. and for some reason an empty space, *Must have a few screws lose...*  he thought as a waitress blocked his view of the hippie.

The old man and mail-Woman ordered breakfast the the hippie ordered a coffee to go, the Waitress then gestured to the empty space next to him. "And you?" the waitress asked boredly as the mail woman snorted while the old man smirked.

"She means you Nibblet." he said taking a sip of water, Dante's brow furrowed who was he talking to? there were only three people at their booth. "I...y-you can see me?" a small very familiar voice croaked the half-devil's heartbeat spiked.

The waitress looked at the fourth person annoyed "Dammit Nate, what have I told you about bringing your junkie friends around here?!" Hippie put his hands up in defense and waitress sneered at the "junkie" who was gawking at her bewildered.

"She not a junkie, that's his niece she just woke up..and she'll take a coffee too." the old man said curtly to the embarrassed waitress who just left to get their order, Dante's eyes winded in shock at the sight of his dead girlfriend sitting in the booth clothes covered in blood with her knees pulled to her chest gawking at the direction the waitress went as Nate spoke up "My niece, what's all that noise?" Only the be talked over by the Y/n who pointed at the waitstaff confused.

"How the hell could she see me? you said I was like a ghost!"   

"Yes, I did say that didn't I?"

"Then what was..how?"

"If you weren't so busy crying, you would've heard me say you were incubating." He said as the waitress returned with their food and drinks, The bald man smiled at the sight of his scrambled eggs and waffles, as the h/c woman looks at him expectantly.

 "Oh, I'm not telling you, that's his job." he said pointing his fork at Nate who look at him stunned "Are you out of your mind Glenn?!" the hippie shouted causing everyone in the diner to looked at him, the scruffy man blanched waved everyone off.

"I can't haul around some roadie and work at the same time." His hissed at this the blond woman to snorted "Work..he calls it." as Nate glared at her before looking around the diner for something "Where Ash? let her take the roadie..." he said as Glenn shook his head. "Who do you think Nibblet's here to replace?" he said suddenly causing a pregnant pause in the group as Glenn kept eating his waffles.

"Ash is..gone?" Blondie said suddenly not hungry anymore as she her oatmeal away and Nate slowly sat down "She didn't even say goodbye." he said as Y/n looked at them confused as the balding sighed "Y'know she couldn't have; even if that was choice, Now get her cleaned and show her how things work." 

Glenn said numbly before returning to his breakfast as Nate looked he wanted to cry but sighed "This way Roadie." he gestured for Y/n to follow him all while Dante sat frozen still processing what he had just witnessed. The half-devil was brought out of it by Patty snapping her finger fingers "Dante are you listening?" she huffed as Morrison stared at him concerned. 

The devil hunter look at them then back at the booth Y/n and that Nate guy were gone, Blondie was having a hushed argument with Glenn. His brow furrowed as nodded towards the booth. "Did you both see that?" He asked shaken and clearly wondering if his mind had finally snapped, Patty looked a the booth incredulously before snorting.

"Oh yeah, the guy who dumped jello and ketchup on his niece! that was funny." she giggled as Morrison chuckled along " His brother really laid it into him didn't he?" the two continued laughing while Dante couldn't believe what he was hearing, that's not what happened at all! how could they have heard something completely different from what he had? distressed Dante got up from the table and went outside ignoring Morrison and Patty calling him. 

But alas they were both long gone it would be another month before he saw Y/n's look alike again. And at that point he concluded that it had to be a demon posing as his dead girlfriend...They must've taken a page from Mundas and created it to manipulate him for something...But for what? Dante was drawing blanks, he was walking back to the shop one afternoon with a fresh bottle of cheap whiskey in hand.

When someone careened into Dante knocking them to the ground, the half-devil didn't even flinch as he stopped in his tracks and looked down at the person, They were wearing a hoodie they couldn't see them properly. However before he could ask if they were okay or help them up, the person shot up to their feet giving him a clear look at their face Y/n...

"Sorry Da...Dude." She check her watch." Fuck I am so late!" she hissed rushing down the street. Not noticing Dante following her watching as she took out a post-it and looked at the street signs, finally looking relieved *must've have found the street she was looking for...* the hunter thought as he watched her turn the corner.

Dante hesitated it could be an ambush... or it could be the answer to what the hell was going on? taking a breath Dante rounded the corner to see a very disturbing scene; Y/n standing over a mangled body of a man, who'd obviously gotten run over and left for dead in the back street like a piece of garbage. the half-devil brows furrowed as he watched from the shadows as gremlin looking demons hissed and sneered at the h/c woman who just waved them off.

"Yeah, yeah I know!" she huffed before reaching her hand out towards the corpse. "Hey buddy, c'mon time to get up pal!" she said as a ghostly hand extended from the body grabbing hers, Dante's blue eyes widened shock as Y/n pulled a guy out of the mangled remains or rather his spirit. the guy looked at her confused then down at his body.

"Oh god, i-s that??"

"Yep, that's you."

"What... I'm...Who are you??" the guy stammered looked back and fourth at her and his body incredulously Y/n winced glaring at her watch, she didn't have time for this! "Y/n, grim reaper, harvesters of souls.. giver of jack shit. yada-yada, could you speed this up? I got three more appointments after you." She said rolling her hand at the dude who looked her up and down in disbelief, "But you're not a skeleton." he sputtered out the obvious as Y/n nodded and started to walk away.

"That's Fairy-tale bull-shit, listen I would've gotten here sooner. but the city bus scheduling is a joke!" she hiss throwing her hands in the air as the dude sighed in annoyance. "Tell me about it..." with that his soul faded away as Y/n walked out of the street just barely missing getting crushed by an AC unit.

"You missed motherfuckers!" she shouted as two of those little gremlin demons crawled down from the roofs and started arguing with each other. Y/n shook her head as took out a new post-it [T.j. Miller DTOD 14:14] the address it was close by, her tired e/c eyes checked her watch she still had an hour to kill...

she sighed bumping into something "arg...what is with me and bumping int-" she her voice dead when she saw who she bumped into Dante...pointing Ebony right at her face Y/n slowly put her hands up as she broke out into a cold sweat, she heard the safety unlock as the h/c mouth felt dry swallowed hard and croaked out the only thing she could think of at the moment. "...Aw Shit." 

{[BANG!]}

[headoverjojo]

Can you write a scenario about an age swap au where Trish is the mob boss of Passione and the mother of Diavolo/Doppio, her 15 year old son who is on the run from his mom's enemies and has already joined up with Bucciarati and his gang?

Hello there, darling! Ooooooh, what a prompt *.* Ok! So… I hope this is actually something you may like? To be short, this is an AU where Trish is adult and the Boss of Passione. She’s not a tyrant like Diavolo and she had her son, Doppio, from a one night stand with Donatello Una, and then she had to send Doppio away in order to protect him. So, here, Trish doesn’t want to kill her son, but just to have him near in order to protect him from her enemies -who aren’t the Squadra, as she’s a way more fair leader than Diavolo and so she doesn’t disrespect them-, and Bucci gang is ordered to escort him to her -as Diavolo ordered in canon to do with Trish-. I hope you’ll like it!! In case, please dm me to discuss it!

(Also: a calletta is a “long and narrow street” in Venetian dialect; if you go to Venice, you may hear someone saying “we’re going on a calletta”, it’s how Venetians call their streets, as with other terms)

Boss of Passione Trish Una orders Bruno’s gang to escort her son Doppio, who’s on the run from her enemies, to her

(Under the cut for length!)

Doppio always knew he wasn’t a boy like the others. He could see and hear things others couldn’t. Sometimes, a voice talked to him from inside his head, and it was so real… he even asked to a psychiatrist, he took specific meds, but nothing seemed to work. The voice was still here, it kept him company when everyone else was leaving him alone. It was his best friend, and his name was Diavolo.

Sometimes Doppio suffered of amnesia and Diavolo, his friend, always told him not to worry about it, that he just took over his body for a little while. Usually, when it happened, a couple of bullies didn’t even dare to come near Doppio anymore.

Doppio’s life wasn’t bad. He just knew who his father was and that he died when he was little. He knew he was the son of Donatello Una, but he absolutely didn’t know who his mother was. The old woman who took care of him never said a word about his mother’s identity. This until Doppio’s fifteenth birthday and his stand’s awakening.

The first time Doppio saw King Crimson, he didn’t feel scared or anguished. It was like… meeting a part of himself. It was like talking to Diavolo, in a certain sense: it felt right, it felt safe. He knew that King Crimson wouldn’t have ever hurt him, as he was part of him.

That night, his tutor, for the first time, talked about his mother’s identity, revealing that she was –she is- a mobster. No, not a simple mobster: she was the leader, the Donna of the most powerful gang in all Italy, Passione. She told him that Trish, this was his mother’s name, after giving him birth, sent him far away to protect him from her enemies, at least until his stand’s awakening. King Crimson was a powerful stand and, she said, his mother’s enemies’ boss was able to feel and track powerful stands such as his one. Trish too had surely felt the awakening, as she and her son shared a special and strong bond since Doppio’s birth. And she was right: Trish, the exact moment King Crimson awakened, jolted awake in cold sweet, feeling a pull in her chest, knowing instinctively that her son was now ready to come back to her. Her heart was pounding both for excitement and worry: she couldn’t wait to see again her son in person… but many dangers were waiting for him. Her enemies would have tried to kidnap him, in order to find her thanks to their shared bond… it couldn’t happen. She had to protect him at any cost, even if she couldn’t just come out and expose herself so carelessly… so she decided to entrust one of her most loyal and powerful teams to protect her son and bring him to her.

The day after his tutor’s revelation, a man named Pericolo came to pick him from his home. Doppio looked behind, with a deep sadness and… nostalgia, in his eyes, as he watched for the last time the place which had been the only home he ever knew for fifteen years and the old woman who always took care of him. He smiled a little, waving at her, before following Pericolo on his new journey.

The day after, his old home was burned down with the old woman inside.

Doppio met up with his “protection team”, Pericolo called them so, two days after his leaving. He was a bit scared: how would those gangsters have been? Would they have been… nice? At least amiable? He really didn’t know. He just hoped to come out alive…

This until he actually met Bruno Bucciarati and his gang. Doppio was stunned by the gentle yet powerful aura the man emanated. He felt… safe, as almost as he felt with Diavolo and King Crimson. He knew that Bucciarati and his gang would have brought him alive and in one piece to his mother.

He liked them. He liked them a lot. Yes, Fugo had some evident anger issue, Abbacchio sometimes seemed almost apathetic and lost in his thought, but all in all they all were fine and nice. They were surprised, of course, to know that their Boss had a son, but, aside from that, they welcomed him in the group. Doppio, for the first time in his life, felt the warmth of a sort of camaraderie, of friendship. He knew he would have fought at their side, that Diavolo too, who was vibrating inside him, would have fought at their side, as he deemed them worthy -and it wasn’t easy to be considered such by his other part-.

And he didn’t have to wait to much for that moment. While they were on the rapido for Florence, a group of their enemies attacked them, without any regard for the other passengers’ life. Doppio never saw a corpse, before, never saw so much blood, never saw someone else’s eyes open and empty. He never saw a horror like this.

And this, this deep injustice, the sight of innocent people dismissed like they were nothing more than bugs, made him snap.

To his protectors’ utter surprise, Diavolo came out, changing Doppio physically. His hair became longer and dotted, his body more buffed. His sweet hazelnut eyes turned into a shocking green and even his aura was changed, Giorno noticed. It was more menacing, more powerful… and, when King Crimson came out, with another wave of pure power, Giorno, for the first time since his joining, trembled. That power… it was the power of a future boss. If Doppio Una’s stand was like this, how was his mother’s, then?

With Diavolo, more resolute and ready to fight than the sweeter and meeker Doppio, King Crimson and his incredible ability at their side, they won, even if they were in heavy numerical disadvantage. When Doppio came back, stumbling and blinking like crazy, he had gained a new respect, thanks to his ability in battle. Now the group saw him not just as the person they had to protect, as a sort of “pack” they had to deliver: he was now one of them, one of the group. An ally who had fought at their side… a friend. You can’t help but become friends, when you fight for your life at someone’s else side and Doppio Una learned it, that day.

After that, the journey proceeded more or less easily. After dropping the train, since it was evidently not safe enough, the group stole a car -actually a minivan, since they were a big group- and proceeded towards Venice, where his mother was waiting for him.

It was the last night before their arrival to Venice. The only one awake was Bruno, who was driving. The others were all sleeping one on each other, in a big, snoring -from Mista and slightly Abbacchio side- pile. Doppio couldn’t help but smile. They really were a family… the thought of it, of a family, made his smile disappear. Family… he was about to meet his family, the mother he never knew. He wondered how she was. Was she a good person? As good a person could be while running a criminal organization. Would she have been… happy to see him and the young man he was? Or maybe she would have been disappointed? He was so scared…

“Don’t worry, Doppio.” Bruno said, in a low and gentle voice. Doppio jolted, taken aback and feeling immediately guilty. Were his thoughts so obvious? Bruno smiled, in his reassuring way, without tearing his eyes away from the dark road ahead.

“Our Boss is not a bad person. She refuses to sell drug to kids and women and she generally tries to keep innocent people out of criminal affairs. I’m sure it will go all well. She’ll love you; no, she already loves you. She’s your mother: she can’t hate or despise you, especially since you’re a good boy.” Bruno watched him briefly, smiling, before turning his head back to the road. Doppio didn’t know how to reply; it was like all his voice and words just disappeared. And so, he didn’t say anything, just nodding to the older man, and looking ahead, taking a deep breath. Truth was, Bruno’s words had reassured him a lot. Maybe it would have gone well, all in all…

When morning came, the group finally arrived to Venice. The exact moment they entered the city borders, they felt observed, and they were right. From the roofs, a couple was observing them and, when the group finally noticed them, already compatting around Doppio, to protect him, they smirked, hopping down, at a safe distance. They introduced themselves as Tiziano and Squalo, two of the personal guards of the Boss, her Unità Speciale, and they were here both to patrol the city, to keep their Boss safe, both to make sure that the Boss’ son was fine. Doppio forced himself not to shrink under the couple’s intense gaze, to face them as who he was: the son of their Boss and a proud stand user. He seemed to have passed whichever exam to which he was being subjected, as the two nodded, satisfied, before telling -more like ordering- the group to follow them, to reach for the Boss’ location.

Doppio’s heart began to pound again, as his feet seemed heavier and heavier at each step. And so here he was, the moment to meet his mother was finally come. He didn’t even know how he was feeling… excited? Worried? Scared? Happy? Maybe all of them? He took a deep breath, feeling the safe presence of Diavolo, his other half, in his mind, and also King Crimson’s, in a corner of his soul. Well… with them near him, nothing could go wrong, in any case.

“Please, sit here. The Boss will come soon.” Tiziano said, pointing at a mostly hidden table in a nice café in one of Venice’s many secluded callette. It was a safe and private place, perfect for a so important meeting.

There were enough chairs for everyone, meaning that the Boss wanted to meet them all. They all sat down, a bit nervous; even if she never hid her identity, she was careful about it, revealing it just to her most trusted collaborators, such as Capiregime, her Consiglieri, the leaders of élite teams and her guards. If she wanted to see them all, this meant that she really trusted them; otherwise, she would have required just Bruno’s presence, as he was a new Caporegime who still hadn’t meet the Boss.

Doppio started to fidget, nervous. Several minutes were already passed and still nothing had happened. Maybe… maybe she saw him and was so disappointed to not want to see him anymore? Those thoughts, however, ended as soon as the clicking rhythmic sound of heels broke the tense silence on the table.

All the boys shot up from their chairs, slightly bowing to a figure behind Doppio. Doppio swallowed, knowing that they would have done something similar just for one person.

He slowly got up, tense and nervous, finally turning around and facing his mother.

Hazelnut eyes reflected in a fresh green ones, really similar to his when Diavolo took over him; Doppio watched her, his mother, for the first time. He recognized his nose in hers, even his freckles in hers; her hair styled in an elaborate and exquisite way were pink as his… he swallowed again, at a loss of words. He didn’t have any doubt, now: she really was his mother. And, by the look on her face and the tears pooled in her eyes, she wasn’t disappointed to see him.

Trish slowly approached him, as she feared to scare him, and lifted a hand, placing it on Doppio’s cheek. She smiled, as a tear escaped her control, lifting her other hand too and stroking his free cheek, like every mother would do with her child. Doppio couldn’t help but brokenly chuckle, as tears started to stream down his cheeks, on his mother’s hands. He had been accepted. He was… worthy. She loved him.

“Look how you’ve grown, you’re taller than me…” she murmured, with a small chuckle on her own, while Doppio held her hands on his cheeks, happy beyond imagination. He slightly nodded, sniffling, looking at her with glossy and joyous eyes. His mother…

“I missed you, mom.” he murmured, sincere, making her lip tremble, as she tried to contain a sob. Instead, she smiled again, between tears, before bringing him forward, to hug him in a tight grip, as to never let him go, never more, not again. She already had to let her baby boy go once, but not again. Now he wasn’t a defenseless baby anymore: he was a young man with a powerful stand and he would have stayed near her until every single one who wanted to use him for their dirty goals hadn’t been dead. This was her promise.

“You’re home, Doppio, now. My sweet Doppio…” she whispered, gently stroking his hair, basking in that long, long moment. Her son was home…

He was finally where he belonged to.

[zenithlux]

Cadence CH 7

Catch up on the story here!

In which Roxy shows Vergil what she can really do.

Still is my soul My blood drawn cold I gain control

Oblivion - THE PRIMALS

The second Vergil stepped out of the portal, the latent demonic energy in the area snapped at him like a pack of rabid wolves unaware that he was the much more dangerous predator. He heard Roxy suck in a sharp breath, followed by a cautious coo from Aki as he hopped up onto her shoulder. “What is it?” Vergil said, genuinely curious if she felt something similar. V had some awareness of demons around him thanks to Griffon and Shadow, but a single month wasn’t enough to explore the possibilities of the familiars’ power. A decades-long connection with Aki must have given her something.

Then there was the matter of her second demon. He couldn’t sense it, but that didn’t surprise him. Familiars had no true form when contained within their pact-maker. He’d felt Nightmare at the back of his mind, but had never tried conversing with it. He wasn’t even sure if it was capable of normal speech. Maybe her’s wasn’t either. 

“There’s a lot of demons around,” She said with a frown. “More than I’m used to.” 

“Can you tell anything about them from here?”

Her look turned quizzical. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Vergil realized he didn’t have a good response to that, as any explanation he could provide would likely give away his own demonic nature. He wasn’t sure what the right time to share that was, but the first day of an actual acquaintanceship probably wasn’t it. “We need to find Nico,” He said. Nico was smart enough to stay away from the more dangerous fights, but if the portals had caught her off guard…

He heard the van long before he saw it. And whether it was the screeching of tires, the clear panic in the echo of Nico’s voice, or his demonic sixth sense, he pulled Roxy towards himself and dashed to the side. He heard her gasp, but it was drowned out by the engine of the van as it whirled by them both. It spun to the side as it skidded, and nearly toppled over before somehow landing on all four wheels. In her wake were at least five demon corpses, including the one who’s bones cracked under the van. Roxy’s ragged, terrified breathing echoed in his ears, and her heart was beating so loudly that he could feel it as if it were his own. “What was that!?” She said. 

“Nico,” Vergil replied

“Is she crazy?”

“It’s highly probable.”

“I knew he’d save ya,” Nico said as she hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Well, I didn’t know you’d be here, but figured it would work out.” Vergil glared at her, but Nico didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, she kicked at the head of the dead empusa beneath her van three times before it dislodged from whatever had impaled it. “I haven’t heard from Nero or Dante since we got a call about this place, so I’m assuming they’re fine. But another portal opened up near here that you should be able to take out before they get back.”

Vergil wasn’t certain if that was a casual remark on how quickly he could fight, or a warning: Nero will be back soon.  “What’s causing it?” Roxy asked. 

“Not sure,” Nico said. “They might know more by now but…” 

She flinched as a series of varied shrieks echoed on the horizon. Of course, Vergil heard more than she ever could. “There’s a lot more than just demons around,” He said simply as he clicked Yamato in his hand. 

“Humans caught up in it?” Roxy said. “We could try reaching…” Her voice trailed off as a black line appeared in the air before expanding into an uneven square; a shredded portal that was nowhere near as clean as the ones Vergil could open. The demons that spilled out were the expected variety of rabble. Empusas (hell seemed to have an abundance of those)  Hell Cainas with their skeleton bodies and incredibly long scythes, and a few Hellbats with the usual chamber of explosive flames mounted on their backs. These weaklings weren’t a concern. Vergil could kill them all with a set of summoned swords if he wanted. Though that would make hiding his demonic nature a bit more difficult, so a few quick slices would have to do. 

A trio of arrows pierced the empusas first, draining their blood as they crumbled. The arrows vanished in a spark of purple light and the energy returned to Roxy’s hand. She took a deep and satisfied breath, though Vergil could see the twinge of worry in her eyes. “These bugs are always nice to see,” She said. “Easy targets. Plenty of energy to harvest. A hunter's dream.”

“They’re called Empusas,” he said.

She hummed in thought. “Not the name I would’ve given them. But sure, let’s go with that.”

“There’s plenty of books on the topic.”

“Not in any library I’ve been to recently.”

“Your father studied demons, didn’t he?”

“The important ones, sure,” She said with a dismissive wave. “I also don’t think those particular demons existed while he was still alive considering they showed up when that tree did.”

Vergil hadn’t thought of that, nor did he want to talk about that particular tree. Instead, he silently grabbed Yamato, lurched forward, cut down the Hell Cainas and shot a bat out of the air with a summoned sword from close enough that she shouldn’t see it. He slid away from the explosion, taking great care to not instinctively teleport. 

Acting human was a lot more difficult than it should have been.

“So you fight them up close and I’ll shoot down whatever I can.” Roxy said cheerfully.

He almost snapped a quick “I can handle this myself”, but bit his tongue. Sure, he could. But handling itself meant he wouldn’t get to see her other demon, and she would have used all of her energy for nothing. But not trusting himself to express that the right way, he simply nodded as more demons spilled out of the portal. This time, the empusas were replaced by the lizard-like Riots. Nothing that concerned him. He surged forward without a second thought, forcing himself to weaken what he could without outright killing them.

That too was something much more difficult than it should have been.

But Roxy kept her word. Every almost dead demon he left behind, she shot in a heartbeat. He tried his best to move on before absorbing the essence himself. However, he realized quickly that he didn’t have to worry, as her arrows drained the demons on their own. A clever evolution for Aki. Vergil wondered if it was something her father had taught the demon or something it had picked up on its own over the years. 

Once that portal vanished, Vergil was confident he had seen enough. “Check on Nico,” He said as he sheathed Yamato and scanned the area for any more spikes of energy. There were still a few demons around, but the human screams in the area were gone, and the only blood he could smell was demonic. If any humans had died, they weren’t here. 

But whatever pride he might have felt at such a thing (which wasn’t much given the simplicity of the task) dissipated the second Nero arrived.

Every time Vergil saw Nero, he was always struck by the impossibility of it all.  He really should have been Dante's son, not his. He knew from the occasional drunk conversation that Dante had considered it when they first met. (Dante being drunk, not Vergil. He'd be a corpse in the ground long before he partook of that infernal drink). His brother's escapades with women during their teenage years were far more frequent than Vergil's, seeing as he'd been with one person and Dante couldn't give him a definitive number. But Dante had joked that Vergil must not have considered any form of protection, and Vergil had been too stubborn to ask what he meant. 

Now he knew, but not through his brother. He tried to avoid his brothers smug, know-it-all grin as much as possible. 

But he and Nero were nothing alike, physicality aside. Vergil was calm and kept his thoughts mostly to himself. Nero was brash and spoke his mind. Vergil avoided most human contact whenever possible. Nero embraced it, even volunteering at the orphanage in his spare time. 

Nero had his life together. Vergil, regrettably, did not.

“What are you doing here?” Nero said as he reached for the sword on his back. Vergil wasn’t sure if that was a self-conscious decision, or if his son truly intended to fight him right now in the midst of a demon invasion.

“I am here to help,” Vergil said. “Just as you are.”

“Sure you are,” Nero said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the idiot who summoned all these things.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed. “I did nothing of the sort.”

Nero snorted, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Both of ours, Vergil thought, but he stopped himself before he said it. Vergil refused to blame anyone else for his predicament, even though he didn’t think there was much else he could do. Nero seemed to take his silence as an admission of guilt and continued. “Thankfully for you, Dante already found the guy. Some old man in his basement. But don’t you dare think this makes anything better. People are dying out here and you went on a date.”

“You didn’t call me,” Vergil said. “Nico did. And it wasn’t a date. It was a meeting.”

“You were supposed to be on surveillance.”

“Wasn’t it your goal to keep me away from this part of the city to begin with?”

Nero was seething now, and Vergil was surprised one of them didn’t burst into flames. “There are portals over there too, asshole. I had to send Lady and Trish in your place.”

“How many?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it does,” Vergil said. “As I am more than capable of dealing with the influx of portals here. A single, coincidental one over there would be a waste of my time.” It was simple logic really, but Vergil didn’t say so. 

A scream from Nico knocked them both out of the petty feud. In the distance, a pack of Riots surrounded her, stalking from all sides. Another demon, a gangly Baphomet that Vergil hadn’t seen in a long time, hovered just in front of a new portal, chanting something in an old demonic language. And while Nico scrambled for the van, Roxy stood in front of her, calm and collected. A small blue light hovered over her palm, and Vergil realized that the demons were moving much slower than they usually did. 

“Nico!” Nero shouted

“Wait,” Vergil said.

Nero’s head jerked toward him in protest, but Vergil ignored him. Roxy’s fingers twitched and the light rose just a bit higher before snapping into a new shape. An orb of ice hovered over her hand like an otherworldly snow globe called from the aether. A single glass snowflake hovered within, glittering with a swirl of light blue. It was enough to quiet Nero’s panic beside him. Even the demons consumed by a desire for human blood had gone still. Her eyes flickered to him, and her tight-lipped expression shifted to a small smirk as she looked back at the monsters before her. 

“Come forth, friend.”

Her voice was a whisper, but the air around her responded to her call.  The orb pulsed once as she raised her hand toward the sky. It lifted far above her head before it pulsed again. Shards of ice shot out from its smooth surface as its perfect form expanded into a jagged, powerful conglomerate of magic. The blue in her hair bled out, and a matching glow radiated through her clothing. An impossible flurry of snow rose from her feet, swirling upward around her body until it reached the ever-expanding orb above her. Her hair turned a deep shade of red. Her skin paled. Energy pulsed again. The demons broke from their stupor, each one charging with desperate abandon.

Vergil grabbed Nero’s arm seconds before the younger devil hunter lurched to her aid. “I said wait,” Vergil said, calm in the face of the pure rage that followed as his son tried to escape his grasp. 

“You’re just going to let them die?” He snapped.

“The situation is under control.”

“You don’t know that you fucking…”

A resounding crack silenced him. When they looked back, the orb shattered. But shards that should have gone in all directions turned to snow, and the energy alone shot the demons backward. Some shattered the moment they touched the ground. Others survived but were slow to get up. The Baphomet began mumbling its familiar shield incantation, but Vergil knew that wouldn’t save it from her.

“Kuraokami,” She said. The snow surged backward forming a tornado flurry. A massive tail with overlapping scales of ice curled out around her and slammed against the ground. Two arms twice as tall as Roxy followed, with one on either side of her. Pauldrons of white ice formed on its shoulders and talons pierced straight through the concrete. Vast wings of sharpened icicles snapped outward and the tornado dissipated. A large dragon head stretched out over her with four horns curving backward and multiple layers of ice protecting its back. Pale blue eyes snapped open and the demon roared; a haunting sound that echoed all around them even though there was nothing to contain it. 

But Vergil felt the strength behind that sound alone. An arch-demon; one far older than himself. His demon-half wasn’t intimidated, but it acknowledged the untold amount of years between them. And, given Nero’s dumbfounded expression, Vergil assumed he felt something similar, even if he didn’t know what it was. 

But Vergil… Vergil was impressed. This human woman, whose body seemed to shift between perfectly healthy and broken in the blink of an eye, had made a pact with an arch demon. And given the way its power quite literally radiated off of her, Vergil was certain this partnership had lasted far longer than he would have ever guessed without seeing it for himself. 

Now, with this ice dragon towering over them all, he realized he’d judged her far too soon. He had taken her for someone who had made a pact on a whim and was still struggling to control it. It explained the back pain and the temporary paralysis, so he hadn’t considered this second demon to be any more than an unruly mess. Aki had been a gift from her father, so surely she couldn’t have made a strong pact on her own. 

Vergil now understood how wrong his assumptions had been. She stood with pride, staring down the demons before her with the confidence of someone who had fought similar battles hundreds of times. And the way her hand drifted along the dragon’s icy scales with great fondness… She was clearly an experienced summoner, and this pact was no accident. A single month with three arguably weaker demons had nearly broken him. He couldn’t imagine what she had given up for such a beast. 

Now, Roxanna had Vergil's full attention, and he was certain she knew it.

“It is good to see you,” Roxy whispered as she glanced up at her companion. The dragon growled in response, and she laughed. “It has been a rather long nap for you, hasn’t it?” The portal across from her widened, and a new batch of demons surged outward. But her smile didn’t fade. “Destroy the source, and I’ll handle the rest.” The dragon huffed, and a puff of white snow billowed from its nostrils. Roxy shook her head. “Child’s play for you, yes?” She held her hand out and Aki vanished as the bow appeared. This time, it crackled with purple lightning, surging outward stronger than the last time he had seen her. 

I hunted yesterday, She had said. How many demons had she needed to kill to achieve this? Surely he and Dante would have heard about such an infestation. 

And how had she done that alone in what he assumed was a weakened state?

Vergil swallowed a sudden strange feeling of excitement. A part of him thought these questions shouldn’t matter. Her abilities were there for all of them to see. But he realized very quickly that he wanted to know how she had accomplished such a feat. He wanted to understand how this power of hers worked, and why her strength seemed to wax and wane at seemingly random times instead of a steady decline. 

The Baphomet’s shield appeared as Roxy threw her hand out. “Shatter!” The dragon’s head snapped forward at her call and a beam of pure ice swept through the demons. Each one turned to ice. The demon struggled, but a series of quick arrows killed them all. The essence flooded into the dragon as it fired another shot straight into the portal. Ice billowed out, swirling around the edges until only a small hole remained. Vergil heard the shrieks from the other side; one more shot would end it. But when Roxy reached for another arrow, she flinched. Her hand twitched toward her back, but she stopped and forced herself to stand up as straight as she could. “Impossible,” She muttered. “How could yesterday not have been enough?” 

A shard of ice shot out of the portal. The dragon’s tail knocked it out of the sky, and Roxy found a smaller arrow to shoot at a second. A Riot slammed into the ice, shrieking as it tossed itself into the barrier over and over again. Vergil heard the grating sounds of metal claws scratching on the surface, but it had yet to break through. But as soon as he heard Roxy’s labored breathing, he knew she couldn’t hold the dragon’s power much longer. “He’s slowed the demons inside,” Roxy said. “But I can’t close it myself.”

Vergil moved without another word, and long before Nero had the chance. The Riot’s head emerged from the hole, cracking the barrier. But when Vergil slashed across the ice, the portal snapped shut. The lizard’s head hit the ground and turned to dust. He sheathed Yamato with a satisfying click and looked to her. 

Except what he got was a very very angry Nero. 

“What was the point in waiting?” Nero said. “You risked their lives for what? Your amusement?”

Vergil’s eyebrow shot up. Did Nero truly believe he couldn’t have intervened? Or that he wasn’t ready at any point to step in? “They were fine.”

“Bullshit!” Nero said. “You didn’t have a clue what she could do.”

Now, Vergil was baffled. Wasn’t Nero the one who wanted humans to learn to fight for themselves? Or had he misunderstood Dante’s descriptions of the boy? “She is a grown woman, Nero. She’s fought demons before and wanted to do it again. Who am I to stop her?”

“Wonderful!” Nero snapped. “Let’s just risk the lives of even more humans so Ms. Ice Queen over there can summon a demon!” He paused for a moment, before glancing at her and mumbling a quiet “no offense.” She shrugged, but the pain in her eyes was more alarming than her lack of response. 

“You closed the other portals, yes?” Vergil said.

“Of course I did,” Nero said. “Because unlike you, I’m not a useless asshole.”

Vergil stared at him, fingers tightening on Yamato. He felt his jaw clench and quickly fought to bury any other reaction to his son’s words. He expected to be angry or find a reason to fight. Vergil assumed he would have something to say to such an accusation. But any response he might have had vanished before it reached his tongue. Instead, a deep stinging pain pierced right through his heart. His mind flashed to his imprisonment, and he tore his gaze away before it consumed him. He would not let Nero see his weakness. Not now. Not like this. Not when Nero already hated him, and not when Vergil didn’t know how to fix it. 

But what could he do? Nothing he said could fix this. Nothing he did…

“Vergil?”

His eyes snapped to Roxy’s as she pulled away from a very worried Nico. The dragon was gone, and her hair had returned to its light blue hue. Aki hovered toward Vergil with a concerned chirp, but Roxy whistled and the demon returned to her shoulder. And as she slowly made her way toward them - no slump, but a slight limp. Clearly in need of more demonic energy- Vergil wanted to walk away. He didn’t want the questions, nor did he know what to tell her. This was all moving too fast, even for him.

This was a mistake. He couldn’t even get along with his own son. What right did he have to make friends with someone like her? How did he dare consider pursuing this new information when he hadn’t atoned for all his past mistakes? But how did he tell her this? How did…

Then, she turned to Nero and bowed her head. Vergil froze, surprised. Nero stared at her, confused. “It was my fault,” She said. “Not his.” Nero’s eyes widened and his mouth opened to respond, but Roxy continued. “I should have been able to handle it, but I misjudged the amount of energy I was carrying.” When she lifted her head, her back spasmed, but she held herself together. In fact, Vergil was certain Nero hadn’t noticed a thing. 

“It’s not… that…” This was the first time Nero had ever looked embarrassed as far as Vergil could remember, but his anger had completely diminished. “I didn’t mean to doubt you,” He said hastily. “I mean that demon of yours is pretty cool… no pun intended,” He chuckled awkwardly.

“Come on, devil-boy!” Nico said as she dropped her arms over both his and Vergil’s shoulders. Honestly, he was more annoyed that he hadn’t noticed her move between them. “Let’s go check in on your uncle. Your old man’s got plenty to take care of himself.”

Nero frowned as he pulled himself out of Nico’s awkward, three-man hug, but he didn’t look at Vergil again. “Fine,” He said. “It was nice meeting you.” Vergil could hear his voice crack, caught between the genuine desire to be nice and his anger toward his father. He finally gave up and hopped into the passenger seat and slammed the door, flinching as he did so. 

Nico gave a dramatic sigh as she pat Vergil on the back. “You’ll take care of your Ice Queen, right V-man?” She winked at Roxy who blushed and looked away. Vergil paused, his mind drifting back to his worries. Was this… alright? Was this… fair? Should he continue on with this friendship after everything…?

He twitched when Nico quite literally smacked him upside the head. “Excuse me?” He said, glaring at her. 

“Restarting those gears in your head,” She said as she followed after Nero. “See ya later, right Rox?” 

The woman blinked before her gaze fell to the other woman. “As long as I get to drive,” She said. 

“Hell no!” Nico said with a laugh. “I’m the best driver around.”

Roxy looked like she believed that about as much as she believed she could jump to the moon. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Her small smile was genuine, at the very least. That was much better than Vergil could manage at the moment. At least the tightness in his chest was starting to ease the more he had time to breathe. And Roxy stepping toward him was… comforting. That same, interested spark returned when she stood beside him in Nico’s place, and the pain in his chest vanished completely when she met his gaze with that same confident smile.

“How do you do it?” Vergil muttered.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Vergil blinked, unaware he had spoken aloud to begin with. He glanced at the van one last time, but Nero didn’t look back as Nico drove away. Vergil took a long deep breath, and he could almost hear Griffon’s voice pulsing in the back of his head. 

Ya ain’t gonna give up like that, right, my lady?

Vergil shoved the bird aside and looked back at her. “You need more essence, yes?”

She sighed. “Seems that way. Guess I miscalculated.” 

“There are some demons left behind,” Vergil said. “I can weaken them for you, but you’ll have to find the strength to kill them yourself.”

She nodded. “Lead the way.”

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch27 (V x Reader)

Chapter 27 - Agony and Ecstasy

________________________________________________

June 15th, 11:14 am

V’s emerald eyes are shadowed, downcast in defeat as he watches tiny fragments of his body float away in the wind, signifying his mortality in an impossible to ignore fashion. For a moment, you can’t comprehend what you’re seeing. The cracks in his skin were one thing, but this? You don’t have a medical term to describe what’s happening to the man you love. He sighs heavily, his shoulders sagging as he reverts to his previous cold acceptance of his fate.

“No, no no don’t you do that! Don’t you give up on me!” you cry out, only to see his lips twist into a sad, accepting smile. You pull him into your arms, stroking his back and his hair.

 No, no, no this can’t be happening!

An icy chain wraps itself around your heart, squeezing it harshly in your rib cage as you feel it crack under the pressure. The unfairness of life has been a constant theme for you, yet this is the cruelest stroke of all. V trembles weakly in your arms as your tears stream down your cheeks, your hiccupping breath stuttering in your pained chest as you replay the moment endlessly. The image of his beautiful fingertips, tiny flakes of his body carried away in the heartless breeze as if he were so much dust.

 Maybe I can fix it? Maybe I can heal him?

You pull his lips to yours for a desperate kiss, tasting the salt of your own tears as you attempt to convey how much you love this man through the motion of your lips alone.

 Please, God, in whatever form you actually are, please save him! I’ll do anything, give anything you ask! I’ll pay any toll for his life!

The void doesn’t answer. It never will.

Your lips tremble against his, your jaw vibrating from the strength of your stifled sobs. His arms wrap around you in a delicate embrace, his tattooed hands stroking your spine warmly. His mouth on yours is a chorus of movement both achingly wonderful and maddeningly terrible because you know you may have very few chances to kiss him remaining.

 Don’t think like that, Y/N! He’s going to be fine; he has to!

He sighs softly into your lips, his shaking hands coming up to stroke your face tenderly, as if he’s trying to memorize the sensation. You pull back at the thought to stare into his emerald eyes, seeing the pain and fear he’s feeling in the dark shadows within. The utter despair in his expressive eyes breaks you even further, the crack in your heart widening into a chasm. You pull him closer, laying your head in the crux of his shoulder and letting his familiar scent comfort you.

 Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me…

“I’ll try,” he whispers hoarsely, and you realize you must have vocalized the thought without meaning to. You lean away to look at his hand again – there aren’t any more specks floating away but it obviously hadn’t recovered, small cracks running through his previously smooth skin amongst the dark lines of ink. You caress the crevasses, feeling for yourself how deep they run, and your heart splits in half.

“It doesn’t hurt,” V tells you in surprise. You hadn’t even considered that, too focused on the ramifications of the decay of his flesh to imagine how it might feel from his perspective.

 What would it feel like to know your body is fading away?

 I hope I never find out for myself.

“I think… I think I can continue,” V informs you hesitantly. “We should try to catch up to Dante.”

“But… V, you should try to rest first,” you begin.

“You know why I cannot, why I must keep going, no matter the state my body is in,” he replies with a morose shake of his head, his obsidian hair shining in the light.

 Yes, I know… that doesn’t mean I agree!

“We are running out of time. The Qlipoth is almost fully grown; the fruit will appear within the next day unless we can stop it before then,” he continues, panting slightly as he struggles to stand, using his cane for what seems like the first time in days. You sigh in surrender, quickly pulling a protein bar from your bag and handing it to him with a teary smile.

“At least eat while we go, my poet. For me?” you beg him quietly. He smirks and unwraps the bar, taking a small bite as he steps forward.

_____________________________________________

June 15th, 11:27 am

V

Following Dante isn’t difficult. The man leaves a trail of broken scenery behind like a tidal wave, fresh scratches on the ground testifying to his battles. V can still smell ash in the air occasionally, the last remnants of the demons defeated by his brother.

Catching up to him, however, proves a challenge. Since his hand began to crumble, V has felt a massive shift in his energy. He is forced to use his cane with nearly every step, a sign of his growing weakness that makes his jaw clench in frustration as he limps forward doggedly, your sorrowful gaze tracking him worriedly.

 I cannot stop now, not when so much is at stake.

His dreary thoughts are a plague he can’t escape, an itch that resists all attempts at scratching. His very bones are weary, so tired of this inexorable trudge toward death that despite your best efforts, he knows you cannot save him from.

 I’m sorry, little fox. I’m so sorry for what this will do to you. I can’t help but wish you had walked away that day, never decided to join us on this doomed quest.

A pulse of agony rips through him, searing his every nerve in excruciating pain. He falls to his knees, cane clattering as he drops it to grip his head in his hands, lightning bolts arching through his neurons within his aching skull. Shards of glass rip his throat to shreds, knives sinking into his kidneys and stomach and twisting cruelly. He can feel the flames that burned his mother’s corpse into ash licking his skin, the heat burning him alive as he finally hits the pebble strewn ground. His very blood burns like acid in his veins as he curls inward, instinctively moving to protect his core from the invisible foe that is the source of his tormented screaming.

 Make it stop! Make it stop, make it stop makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop….

He can no longer see the devastated cityscape surrounding you on all sides, can no longer smell the burning refuse or the rotting garbage. He can no longer hear the wind rushing by, or your voice desperately screaming his name in panic. His existence narrows to only pain, all of his senses completely overwhelmed in the horrors of its ferocity. He cannot even string together a coherent sentence in his mind, his mental processes shattered and mutilated beyond recognition.

Minutes that feel like centuries pass before he hears your voice from somewhere far too distant. He mentally latches on to it, clinging to the sound as if it were a parachute and he were falling from the sky. His pain fades incrementally, brutally slowly as he focuses on your voice and drags his consciousness back from where it had retreated from the agony.

Shame fills his incoherent mind as he regains awareness, finding himself cradled in your arms protectively. His convulsing body stills as your gentle hands stroke his hair, voice murmuring reassurances and comfort as he presses himself closer to you.

 So weak, so powerless. I would not have made it this far alone.

 Holy fuck, V! What the hell just happened?!

 …did you feel it too?

 An echo, not like you did… We all got a taste. You okay?

 …I don’t know. I think I’m dying.

 Shit.

“V? Can you hear me?” your anxious voice questions him. He licks his lips to speak, only to find the words catch in his aching throat, his vocal cords refusing to function in protest of their abuse. He nods instead.

“Can you speak?” you probe softly, and he shakes his head.

“Okay… I’m going to lie you flat and examine you,” you inform him, and he nods again as you scoot back from him, helping his limbs into a position of neutrality. By now his nerves have stopped their spasming and he can feel your touch, feel your careful hands slide up and down his body searching for injuries. After a moment, you lean back with a satisfied smile.

“Nothing external at least. Can you talk yet?”

“I… think so… hurts,” V gasps out through his overworked throat.

“Do you want to try standing or wait a little?” you ask him, brow furrowed slightly.

“Try,” he rasps out. You hand him his cane and crouch nearby, ready to catch him if he needs it. As much as he appreciates the support, he can’t help but also feel irritated by it and its necessity.

 If only I was stronger…

He gets to his hands and knees easily enough, then braces his weight on the cane and pushes, bringing himself into a low crouch. Its uncomfortable, but bearable. He rises further, coming to a full standing position carefully. He takes a few steps cautiously, your arms still awaiting his fall, but he manages to not even stumble. You drop your hands with an apologetic smile, and he forces himself to smile gratefully back, despite his frustrations.  At long last, the pair of you are able to resume your trek, albeit much slower for the time being.

Even with your slow speed, you manage to find Dante not too much farther ahead. There’s a blonde woman lying on the ground near him.

 Trish?

“Dante!” V calls out, breaking into a full run and desperately trying to get the man’s attention.

 There’s so much I must tell him…

But Dante turns away, mounting a motorcycle and barely bothering to send a few more words his way before dashing off. “Take care of Trish for me!”

“Dante, wait!” V exclaims uselessly, and he falls to the ground once more.

 Dammit… always so weak.

In an act of desperation, he commands Griffon to accompany the legendary devil hunter, the blue bird flapping mightily and easily catching up to the speeding motorcycle.

V tries to stand on his own but only falls again. It isn’t until you come to help him that he’s able to rise fully. He angrily chooses a chunk of rubble to sit on, easily able to keep an eye on Trish as she sleeps. He pulls out his book of poetry to try and calm his anxious mind, try to stop thinking about his own death, as you sit beside him with a small smile, taking his unoccupied hand and stroking his fingers gently.

_____________________________________________

June 15th 11:40am

You sit beside V, his hand in yours as he reads quietly. Your mind is racing, wondering if you missed something with your theory. Wondering what more can possibly be done to save V, or if your theory is even right.

 What if it’s wrong? What if he still dies?

You clench his hand in yours tightly, mentally swearing to not let that happen. No matter the cost, you will save V. You have to.

“When Trish wakes, I’m going to tell her everything. She may have better luck in telling Dante than I have thus far,” the lean poet comments suddenly. You hum in acknowledgment, glad that he’s becoming more and more willing to tell the truth of his origin. You hear a quiet sigh and look down to see Trish’s eyes have opened at last. She sits up carefully, holding the blanket covering her nude form in place as she looks around.

“Dante’s left,” she states, her voice unexpectedly soothing.

“Yes… and I don’t think he can win,” V comments back, turning the page in his book.

“What was that demon, V? Where did it come from? Urizen is not a demon. I know for a fact, because I'm from the Underworld,” the blonde woman adds. V doesn’t respond, instead turning the page again with a smirk.

“Oh my god... what are you then?” Trish asks V fearfully, and he closes his book at last to face her and address her directly. Her eyes shift to you curiously for an instant before V speaks and her attention is drawn back to the poet.

“It doesn't matter. I'm a shadow of my former self who lost everything. I will tell you... the story of my birth,” he murmurs softly. You squeeze his hand in a silent show of support as he once again tells his story, voice catching here and there as he describes the moments before his creation and the minutes afterward of sheer terror.

Trish takes it all in stride, her expression barely shifting throughout the telling. She’s an especially difficult person to read, a think outer shell of armor protecting her innermost thoughts from casual observation. You can respect that, even as you find it incessantly annoying.

“I've tried to hold together my crumbling flesh with whatever demonic power I have left, but... I'm approaching my limit. In separating and regaining my human soul, I've realized the gravity of the crime I've committed,” V concludes slowly, his emerald gaze glancing at you as he utters the next few words in a near whisper.  

“I've realized how important everything was... everything I've thrown away in my pursuit for power.”

Finally, the poet is silent, his tale told and his secrets bared. Trish simply gazes at the pair of you, an unreadable expression still holding court over her features.

“Is that why you went to find Dante?” she asks.

“Yes. Foolish. I thought maybe he could change... maybe fix... maybe right my wrong. Tell me... was this fool before you right?”

Trish stands, the blanket covering her naked body somehow morphing into a black leather ensemble that makes you blush with all it reveals. She turns and starts walking past you and V, heading toward the Qlipoth.

“I'm not your mommy, V. You're a big boy. And you need to see this through. Dante's war,” she tells him in a scolding tone, sounding very much like a mother reprimanding her child. V grimaces in pain as he rises to his feet and steps forward to follow her.

 Fuck that.

“V, either you sit back down on your own or I’ll force you. You’re going to rest for a few more minutes whether you like it or not,” you command the poet. He turns to face you, protests already forming on his lips, but you glare at him as threateningly as you can while you cross your arms until he swallows the words. He sighs but obediently sits back down beside you with a smirk.

“I suppose I’m not strong enough to stop you at the moment anyway,” he comments dryly. You take the chance to give him a bottle of water and another protein bar, watching him chew slowly beside you lost in thought. His lighter tattoos look strange to you, Griffon’s absence an empty void hanging in the air.

“Can you talk to Griffon right now?” you ask him curiously, wondering how strong the bond between them has become. He closes his eyes in concentration for a moment before clenching his jaw and shaking his head in frustration.

“I can tell he’s with Dante, see flashes of a house… but I can’t seem to communicate,” he murmurs between bites. Your mind continues its pondering, examining all you know about Urizen and V in an anxious search for answers.

 I don’t know what else to do…

You lean against the poet beside you, careful not to force him to support too much weight in his weakened state. You feel his hand rise to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer and you succumb to his desires and lay your head in his lap. He strokes your hair, your cheek, your lips. Memorizing your face.

 Damnit, stop doing that!

You glare up at him, anger tinting your words. “V, we can’t give up yet. Please, keep fighting it, keep fighting for who you’ve become. Fight for our future together,” you urge him. He can barely meet your pleading eyes as he sighs heavily, his hand pausing its exploration at your jawline.

“It doesn’t seem to be working, little fox,” he reminds you softly, his eyes mournful as he meets yours.

You brush his hand away and sit up, reaching out to turn his face to yours once more as you sit beside him. Determination and stubbornness color your voice as you respond, your intense glare forcing him to accept what you say as truth.

“You don’t know that. There could be all sorts of reasons you’re still weakening. We’re closer to Urizen than we’ve been in weeks, you’re older now than you were last time you faced him, maybe Dante waking up did something… The point is, we can’t know if it’s failing. We won’t know until Urizen is dead. But as long as there’s even a shred of hope left, we have to keep trying. You have to keep trying. Because goddamnit V, I’ll go after Vergil myself if you merge. I’ll drag you back out kicking and screaming if I have to. I refuse to let you go,” you inform him passionately.

V smirks, looking down for a moment as he absorbs your monologue. After a beat, he carefully turns his body to face yours and pulls you against him, crushing your form against his. You can feel his racing heartbeat, feel the heat radiating off his skin as he embraces you.

“Thank you, little fox,” he whispers into your hair.

_____________________________________________

June 15th, 11:52 am

V

V limps quietly alongside you, your hand grasping his carefully. The Qlipoth ahead is taller than ever, reaching high above the clouds in its daunting height. The grey patchwork structure is impossible to ignore, a now constant backdrop to both his innermost thoughts and the landscape surrounding him. He reflects on your words as you slowly move forward, trying not to focus on how his failing body is preventing you from reaching the tree at a reasonable rate.

Your stubbornness and love, your passion and conviction… it had startled him. Even as the fear of death, of losing this chance at a future threatens to consume him entirely, your presence has helped keep him from tumbling over the abyss into hopelessness. Kept him from surrendering to his fate entirely.

There’s still doubt plaguing his mind, still anxiety tugging at his thoughts. Yet he now refuses to ignore the thin tendril of hope that’s grown miraculously within the garden of his terror. Grown only from your attention.

 Perhaps a little from my friends as well, but mainly Y/N. I wouldn’t even consider them friends if not for her.

 She has utterly changed the course of my life.

Sudden terror grips him as Griffon panics over something Dante is doing. He stops in his tracks, trying to focus on the hazy image he can barely see in his mind, too diluted by distance to have much meaning. You look at him quizzically, your steps halting to stand beside him.

“Griffon… Something’s happened with Dante,” he rumbles. Your eyes color with nervousness as he focuses as hard as he can on the image. Blurred shapes flash into a defined form for an instant before the haze obstructs them again, but he can see Dante standing before a portrait of the entire family, a blade embedded in his chest.

 Not again…

He waits for a moment, then focuses his energy again on the image. He watches in awe as Dante transforms, his body absorbing the blade within and using its power to fuel his new appearance. A stronger version of his devil form, power radiating off his crimson flesh in waves of heat.

The image dissolves as Griffon’s panic vanishes, and V can’t help the wry grin from crossing his face.

 Only Dante…

“What happened, V?” your shaky voice asks. He smirks at you as he answers.

“Dante has absorbed the Sparda. The reckless fool stabbed himself. He has grown stronger, perhaps strong enough to win,” he ruefully states. He chuckles, bitterly amused at his brother’s ability to gather strength and how it mirrors his own decline. Always opposites, the two of them.

“Really? So… you might not even need to fight Urizen?” you probe hopefully. He shakes his head, refusing to miss the final fight.

“I must be there, must witness Urizen’s destruction myself no matter who strikes the blow,” he answers determinedly.

“Would it be dangerous to do it? To kill Urizen?” you thoughtfully ask him. He pauses, not having fully considered it.

 I suppose it could be dangerous. I have no idea what will happen to his body.

“It may be. I cannot even begin to guess what will become of his remains. He may have even set a trap for anyone who dares to strike him,” V pronounces with a slight frown. He watches your face carefully, suspicion growing in his mind as your features shift from curiosity to resolve.

“Then I should be the one to do it,” you state boldly, and his heart skips a beat.

 No, no no little fox! You can’t be serious!

As if you had read his racing thoughts, you smile at him tenderly and elaborate.

“If it is dangerous, how much more hope and fear would fill you if I was the one taking the risk? If I was the one who could get hurt?”

He grimaces, already knowing the truth of your words yet refusing to accept the risks. You had to be safe, you had to survive. Even if he was doomed, he absolutely would not under any circumstances drag you down with him. Unthinkable.

“Irrelevant. It will not be you, I won’t allow it,” he forcefully pronounces. You only smile wider, reaching out to stroke his cheek tenderly.

“V… the whole idea about keeping you alive functions on you experiencing as much emotion as possible. As arrogant as it feels to say it, I’m the one you care about the most. Seeing me strike down Urizen… watching me walk up to him… you can’t deny how it would make you feel. It might be the final key, the last shred of humanity that saves you,” you explain carefully.

 I know she’s right, but I cannot allow this!

“The risk is too great. Let Nero do it, or Dante,” he miserably begs you.

You shake your head, your hair catching the light beautifully.

“You care about Nero, true, but he’s only a friend. And you hate Dante, you’d be happy to see him fall. It has to be me,” you declare. “V, at this point, how could you even stop me? This is my decision to make, so you can either help me save you or fight me and lose anyway.”

 Damn. She’s right, I couldn’t stop her even if I tried. I’m too weak, always too weak.

He presses his forehead to yours, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. It goes against every fiber of his being, every single one of his protective instincts screaming in his mind to not even consider letting you do this.

But he has no choice.

He cannot fight you.

“I don’t like it, not one bit. But you have a point. Just… promise me you’ll be careful?” he begs you, surrendering to your will at last. You nod, your lovely eyes lighting up happily at his agreement.

“I promise. Thank you, my poet,” you murmur gratefully, and then you close the gap to kiss him lovingly. His tongue darts out to taste you, craving your unique flavor. A surge of lust overtakes him as you open to his attentions, his arms pulling you against him forcefully as his blood thunders in his ears. He wants you, all of you. He wants to consume you and never let you go. You are his, now and always, and he desperately craves the chance to claim you once again.

V doesn’t care that you’re in the middle of a street. Doesn’t care that there’s chunks of stonework and broken buildings surrounding you. Doesn’t care that the only remotely clean or flat surface is a small portion of sidewalk. He tugs you toward it, easily stripping off his vest as he goes. Your mouth pops open in surprise but you don’t fight him as he carefully lowers you onto the pavement, using his vest as a pillow so your head doesn’t lie on the cold ground.

“Really, V? Here?” you whisper. He grins ferally, his hands already working at your top as he growls his response.

“Yes.”

You blush deeply, eyes darting around the area to check for other witnesses to your carnal pleasures. You find not a single soul, as he knew you would, and seem to settle as he pulls your shirt over your head.

“You are mine, little fox,” he murmurs lustily, and his mouth descends to decorate your bare chest with kisses and bites. You wrap your arms around him, but he tuts. He pulls back and looks you in the eyes.

“If you want me to stop, say ‘juniper’, yes?” he instructs you and another powerful bolt of heat rips through him as he sees your swollen lips stretch into a hungry smile, your glazed eyes narrowing as you nod forcefully. He descends upon your form once more, his arms moving to pin yours at your sides so you’re helpless to his actions. He needs to feel powerful, feel in control even though he would never force you.

He grins darkly as your hands, pinned to your sides, drift to your waist to open your belt. You release him as well, clumsily baring you both to the chilly air. A wicked smile twists his lips as he has a sudden idea, and he rises, pulling his pants up enough so they don’t trip him as he pulls you up. He plants his lips on yours again instantly, his tongue ravaging your mouth passionately as he backs you against a small sedan nearby. You gasp as the back of your legs hit the metal, another exhalation escaping you as he grips your hips and flips you face down.

He drops his pants again, working himself out of his briefs as you extend your arms out on the hood of the brown car, the dust already showing where your body has touched it. The sight pleases him immensely.

“Good girl, always so obedient for me,” he rumbles, his long fingers parting your legs easily as you whimper in desire. He tears your panties away forcefully, a small ripping sound accompanying the motion as he flings them away dismissively.

“Yes, I’m a good girl for you V. Show me how good I’ve been,” you whine as he drags a single digit through your slick folds.

“Hmm. You’ve also been very naughty, my little fox. I ought to punish your misbehaving,” he growls in response, using the tone he knows you can’t resist. You moan, the sound starting a fire in his belly and making him bare his teeth in a wolfish smile.

He raises a hand and smacks your bare ass, leaving a delightful red mark behind in his wake as you squeal. He listens carefully for a moment, in case you need him to stop, but only hears your ragged breathing. He smacks your ass again, another red mark joining the first as you groan.

“Please, V... please… I need you,” you beg, and a heady rush of power fills him.

“Not yet, love. I’m not done punishing you yet,” he groans back with a smirk. He takes a moment to enjoy the view, your arms outstretched and trying to find purchase against the smooth metal of the brown vehicle beneath you, your legs parted and shaking slightly in your excitement. Two red marks on your round ass where he’s marked you as his. He adds one more mark with a final smack, making you gasp amidst your staccato breaths.

“Now, for your reward,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear. He delights in the way you shift your hips, angling yourself for his ease.

 Not yet…

He strokes himself a few times, satiating his own needs just enough to focus his mind as he slides a finger inside you. A delicious moan reaches his ears from your parted lips and he curls his digit just the way he knows you like it. The way you breathe his name jolts him, the low fire in his belly becoming a raging inferno as he feels your wetness. He withdraws his finger and steps forward at long last, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising grip.

“Such a good little fox…”  he rumbles and slowly presses his hips forward. His eyes flutter closed as his head breaches you, the tight tunnel welcoming him home like a lost pet. His own moan joins in with yours as you clench around him, the slick fluids allowing him to inch his way further inside at a pace that would make a snail impatient.

His hips finally become flush with your ass as he sheathes himself fully. One of his hands moves from your quaking hip to fist in your hair, pulling your head up so he can see the blissful expression on your face. He holds your head there as he pulls away, your brows furrowing as you bite your lower lip. He bucks forward again, reveling in the sharp gasp that escapes your lips as you are suddenly filled again.

He releases your head, laying his hand on your spine and holding you against the cold metal as he thrusts voraciously, his panting breath echoing your own. You do your best to angle your hips to meet his, clearly desperate for friction on your tiny bundle of nerves.

“You’re being so good, you deserve a reward,” he gasps out and the hand still on your hip descends, finding its way between your thighs and stroking your clit the way he knows you like. Your cries elevate his feeling of dominance even further, still not uttering the word he’d told you before he began. He feels you approaching your peak, your body sending him all the signals he needs. He stills his fingers and his hips, leaving you panting and wriggling in frustration beneath him.

“Did I say you could come yet, love?” he rumbles, leaning closer to your ear to ensure you can hear him.

Your face says it all – he has total control over you as you willingly surrender to his will and still your hips.

“Good girl,” he growls, standing tall once more and resuming his ferocious pounding. The dust under your form mixes with your sweat, a watery mess coating your front as he molds you to his desires. He can’t help the long moan that sounds from him as you find your rhythm together, the wet slapping of flesh marking your union audibly.

He’s close now, he can feel it.

 I want to feel her come with me.

He resumes his little touches, bringing you just to the edge to join him. With a final shout, he rubs the spot that he knows will send you over, your clenching walls and signature orgasmic moan rewarding his intimate knowledge of your body as his stuttering hips clench, his own pleasure pulsing between his legs within you. His skin prickles, his vision flashing with color as the high of release fills his consciousness.

His blood pounds in his veins as he comes to a stop, spent. The two of you both pant heavily as you catch your breath, the exertion such a wonderful strain on your lungs. His hands leave your body as he stands and pulls away with a slight squelch, your mixed fluids spilling out of you as he joins you on the hood, laying down and meeting your half-lidded gaze.

A long moment passes of the two of you simply staring at each other, reveling in ecstasy.

“I love you,” V finally murmurs, and you smile that smile he so adores, lips twisting to perfectly display your teeth in an expression of utter joy.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, and his own joyful smile matches yours.

[irishavengersassemble]

As Long As You’re in My Care

Hello lovelies! This is an idea I’ve had for awhile. I’ve never written Ducky as lone character before. Hope I did him justice. Enjoy!

Gif not mine!

Ducky x Wife Reader

(Reader is in her mid-forties.)

You stared at your hands as the feeling of a large warm hand landed on your shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Allan your bodyguard asked kindly.

“I’m fine.” You whispered not meeting his eyes. Allan was a stocky 6`5 black man with a powerful build and kind honey-colored eyes.

You tried to ease the pounding in your head as flashes of a shady-looking man pulling out a knife and diving at you before Allan got to him made you shudder.

 “If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask Y/N.” The man states his eyes scanning over the bandages around your shoulder, black eye, and multiple face abrasions.

 He held a guilty expression before he headed towards the door of your hospital room.

 You’d been attending one of your book signings in London when out of nowhere a man came at you with a knife.

 He’d managed to stab your shoulder and get several decent punches to your face before Allan got him off you.

 Luckily the stab wound was only a flesh wound and required some minor stitches. 

The doctor had just finished up with you a few minutes prior. She’d advised you to go back to a friend’s house and get some rest.

J.K. Rowling was a great friend of yours and she’d already offered to put you up for the night while your manager worked on fixing your crew a flight back to the States.

 “Allan wait.” “This isn’t your fault okay.” “Please don’t blame yourself.” You whispered softly staring at the young man who was old enough to be your son. 

In a lot of ways he’d become a bit like a son to you in the three and a half years, you’d known him.

 “Yes, Ma’am.” The retired Marine replied as he headed outside to make arrangements for your transportation to Rowling’s home.

A sigh hit your lips as your mind went to your husband. He was on a case and no one had been able to reach him yet.

 You knew that Ducky would be terrified once he received word you’d been attacked.

Yes, there had been occasional death threats and restraining orders throughout your twenty-plus years of being a world-famous author. It had never actually escalated to that of a physical attack at least not to where you were stabbed.

 “Easy there Mama.” Allan soothed as you woke with a start. You glanced around mildly confused when you found yourself on a plane in first class.

“It's alright Y/N we left Jo’s place this morning remember?” He informed you as memories of saying goodbye to your friend flashed through your head.

 “How much longer until we land in D.C.?” You let out a wince at the splitting headache that hit you.

“Ouch, what did I do get hit with a brick?”

“Well, you did hit your head pretty hard when you fell.” “Sorry about that by the way.” Alan replied softly.

 “I probably wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.” “So there is  no reason to apologize.” You smiled before taking the two painkillers the large man held out for you.

“Thank you.” The words tumbled from your lips as the effects of the pills became to work almost immediately.

 “Hey Y/N… I hate to wake you but we’re going to be landing in about 15 minutes.” You opened your eyes letting out a wince at the light as hit your eyes.

 Most of your headache was gone but the brightness of the sun coming through several windows was uncomfortable.

  “Here doll.” “I figured you’d want to freshen up a bit before we land.” Patricia your manager purred before shoving a tote bag in your hands.

With a sigh, you made your way to the bathroom locking the door behind you. 

The sight of your reflection staring back at you in the tiny mirror made you wince.

“I look like one of Duck’s corpses.” You think.

Your usual neat h/c locks were hanging dull and lifeless around your face. Deep abrasions were scattered along your cheeks and jaw. Swollen and purple your left eye had received the most damage; crimson blood vessels were the first thing that people would see when they looked at your eyes.

 You could clearly see where the man’s hand that was covered in thick rings had bashed your face repeatedly. 

Black and plum shades of various bruising outlined your nose. 

A small smile hit your lips as you glanced in the bag letting out a sigh of relief at what you found.

 Patricia had grabbed a pair of black sunglasses, a mint scarf, a brush, and an array of hair ties.

“Trish you are an angel.” You retort. Before running the brush through your tangled mane, a satisfied smile hit your lips as you walk out of the bathroom a few minutes later.

 Feeling a bit like Audrey Hepburn in your headscarf and sunglasses. You glided down the aisle trying to ignore the dizziness that seemed to be tugging on you from every angle.

Slumping into your seat you raise a questioning eyebrow at Allan who was smirking at you.

“What?”

“You’re just looking very classy today is all.”

“I know there’s underlying sarcasm in that statement.” “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The man retorts with a proud smirk.

“The real question though is did you listen.” You question teasingly. 

“Nope.” He confirmed letting out a deep booming laugh.

 Allan kept a firm hand on the small of your back as he helped guide you through the airport trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“Dr. Mallard said that he’d meet us at the back entrance.” Your bodyguard muttered quietly in your ear. 

“He’s probably made himself sick with worry.” You mutter thinking of how over-protective your husband and his team were over you.

The noise of the airport did nothing to help your sensitive head. 

A grimace hit your lips before it was quickly replaced with a small smile.

The sight of your husband standing beside his beautiful car met your line of sight. 

He was dressed in one of his suits that he knew you loved holding a large bouquet of lilies.

 “Hello handsome.” You sighed.

Allan released his hold on you once you made it over to him. Neither one of you said a word as he opened his arms to you.

Without a moment's hesitation, you accepted burying your face into his shoulder. 

Cologne filled your nostrils but you could still make out traces of antiseptic.

 The Scotsman wrapped his arms around your smaller form protectively placing his chin on your head.

 A satisfied sigh hit your face as you relaxed in your husband’s embrace.

Ducky usually knew when words weren’t necessary but that was to be expected after twenty-plus years of marriage.

 The sound of your luggage being placed in the back of the car hit your ears making you wince as the door slammed.

“Thank you, Mr. Becket.”

“Anytime Dr. Mallard.” “I’ll call in a few days and check up on you boss.” Allan confirms gently.

 “Donald I promise I’m fine.” You protested as he kept a firm arm around your waist helping you into the house.

The drive home had been pretty silent but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to avoid talking or removing your sunglasses forever.

 Taking in the familiarity of your own home you finally started feeling a bit relaxed at being in your own surroundings.

 Ducky went back outside to grab your bags being the gentlemen that he was. 

You let out a groan taking in all of the flowers and balloons that decorated the mantle above the fireplace.

Unable to let your curiosity get the best of you, your eyes landed on the first card you saw.

“Get well my lovely friend” “–S. King.

 “Those arrived this morning.” A warm voice noted.

“Did they that’s fantastic.” You assured.

The feeling of a gentle hand rested on your arm.

 “I know you don’t feel like talking just yet but I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you.” The words fell out of your mouth as you turned to look at him.

His deep blue eyes stared at you with the utmost love and concern. Sitting wearily on the couch you take off your headscarf before reaching up to take off your sunglasses.

The light wasn’t as bad this time around but it still was a bit uncomfortable. He sat beside you placing a hand on top of yours when you didn’t look at him.

 “Y/N”

 Soft and tender there was no anger or disappointment in his voice as he waited for you to look at him. 

He was so patient with you, he always had been and it was one of the things you loved most about him.

Ever so slowly you lifted your head meeting his eyes. Ducky placed both of his hands on either side of your face before gently placing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“I’m so sorry Darling.” “This shouldn’t happen to anyone especially you.”

“Sometimes these things happen Duck.” “We don’t have control over them.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t difficult.” He advised.

 “I don’t deserve you.” You whispered letting your head fall against his chest. 

“Nor I you.” He agreed pressing another kiss to your hairline.

 “I was so worried when I received word about your attack.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to contact you.” “You were busy with your case and every time you called Trish or Allan.”

 “I was knocked out thanks to my painkillers.” You chuckle letting out a slight wince as you feel your body react to the movements.

“Careful Sweetheart.” “ Doctors orders.”

A snort escapes your lips at your husband’s words.

“Whatever you say Doc.” You mumbled curling deeper into his side. He reached over the back of the couch pulling off the quilt your great-aunt had made you before throwing it over you both.

“Get some rest my love.”

 "Love you Donald.”

“I love you too my dear.” “I promise you’re safe as long as you’re in my care.”

“I know Duck.” “ I know.”

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!

[dinasan1]

Oc Sketches 1

Sorry I haven't uploaded in such a long while! My life's been a COMPLETE mess lately... Even though these sketches in particular were drawn BEFORE the fire nation attacked, I didn't want to upload them because I THOUGHT I'd be able to sketch ALL my ocs and put them in one single image (BWHA!, RIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHHTTTTT...) So these 3 (yes, all the Red heads+The Brunettes are the same girl) are probably my oldest OCs I remember?... I think there're older OCs, but I dunno why I didn't feel like drawin' em... I created these when I was 14 or 15 years old, I didn't create MANY of them in my whole life (And NO, imagining and designing myself as a character in a specific franchise DOESN'T count as an OC, y'can all drop your acts now...) The one at the top's named Jessy Lake, (for a game, the logo's "JL"), She's 17 years old. so she was sorta accused in a murder she didn't commit (but she looked suspicious cause she happened to be there, and her hands were bloody from touching the corpse, long story short, without feeling like having a risk with the police, she ran away from home, to a hideout town, which people come into so they won't be found by anyone. That's more or less what I remember from back then. The one at the bottom right's Tasha, 19 years old. I don't remember what name I wanted the game to have, but I remember it was sorta a rip off from Devil May Cry (I based her design to be a somewhat combination of Trish and Dante). as a kid she found out she has a magical ability, that lets her shed her skin at once, so she couldn't be killed via skin damage (stabbing, cutting etc.), and electricity powers were found out later. Everything was nice and dandy till her powers became independent, and she could no longer control them, as they somewhat became their own master. At the age of 15 they completely went out of control, causing her to kill her own parents. Traumatized, she ripped the powers out of her self, Seeing they were now humanized, she decided to call 'her' "ahsat", Ahsat left away, leaving Tasha with only the skin shedding left, as she only had her electricity. Few years went by, and both of them were struggling with keeping their powers because of the disconnection, while Tasha didn't mind giving up her powers, Ahsat was already displeased with electricity only, let alone getting THESE powers weaken. So she began hunting Tasha down. That's pretty much what I remember WHY these sketches?, because I bought THE chameleon markers more than half a year ago, so I felt like starting carefully with a sketch, so I won't ruin a worthy, hard worked on lineart And good thing I did so! These markers are great and all, but they give you even more trouble as well! Sure, it's really badass how you can make this soft transition, causing a really gentle, gradient shading (which I'm conflicted about since it looks great on the paper, but it's barely noticeable once you photograph it... It's not... Sharp, enough, and I'm starting to have regret and mixed up feelings about this... I don't like how I'm only limited to like 52 markers (50 somethin', I'm not 100% sure now), while I had over freakin' 100 Promarkers, and I always felt confident about finding that EXACT color I needed for somethin'... And I thought Promarkers bled bad?, BOI, These chameleon bleed like... SPRAYING BLOOD OUT (not really  ), they bleed like CRAZY and you need to have an EXTRA THICC () paper for them, otherwise you're screwed... It's really shameful, they were CRAZY expensive, but I'm a little confused and confident about sticking to them, I think their disadvantages are kinda overpowering the ONE advantage they have... I feel the promarkers are more... Reliable... And on another thing - I'm considering changing my lineart technique... I don't have a complete drawing with the new way yet, but I'm thinkin' about trying to do COLORFUL lines... Not these, stupid, plain, black, soulless lines... I want it to feel more... Livid... As much as I can... To make everything feel a LITTLE less... You know... Like a drawing?.... But I'm unsure about EVEN THAT... -_- I don't know HOW I should do them... Darker than the coloring?, brighter than the coloring? I'm confused down to my core about coloring lately, maybe that's one of the reasons I've been avoiding doing so?... I REALLLLYYYYYYY should fuckin' finish some of the drawings I started.... Oh, and, Expect no more (or at least, less) Sonic art from now on, things have changed and happened in my life (and with me), so I'm... Kinda out of this fandom now... HELLLLLLOOOWWWW my favorite anime - GINTAMA *3* On a less positive note, like I said earlier, my life's been a COMPLETE mess lately... So expect some REALLLLYYYYYY dark, sad, and maybe even painful, personal art... Because I need to let these horrors out somehow...