#i almost didn't archive her but the longer i stared.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

booboodaddysblog · 5 months

Text

Illusory hope

Warning: smut, p in v, betrayal, fight, blood, gun, almost death, tying, crying

Words: 6781

Patience... some people have none, and some have it in excess. Patience also has a connection with loneliness and hope. Is it worth it to hope that someday things will be as we would like them to be?

- I can't stand it! - Colin paced around the social room holding his hair almost pulling it out - I can't stand it any longer like this!

- Dude, what's the matter with you? Is it about that girl from the hotel? You've been talking only about her for a long time - a policeman named Kevin was sitting at the table. He was looking at Colin's behavior - You would stop doing these laps already, it makes me sick - he said biting into his sandwich.

- I don't care about your sandwich - he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table.

- You would focus on your work, not on some girl out there - he said with his mouth full.

- What do you know! You have, a wife and three children. You don't have to worry about your social life anymore.

- You're right, I don't have to. I have it good, hot lunches, sandwiches for work, coffee in a thermos when I go to work in the field. I'm seriously not complaining. Only the kids could be quieter sometimes. Then it would be perfect - he laughed - Do you miss sex, man? Somehow you're so nervous.

- Of course I miss it. Self-pleasure in the shower is not the same as with a woman.

- And any one-time actions? You've had a few recently, right?

- How do you know? - Colin furrowed his eyebrows.

- This town is very small, and the police station is even smaller. What was her name? That last girl, Lana? - He laughed out loud.

- This is already too much, I do not like that you have such information about me - he got up from the table and put the cup in the dishwasher.

- Well, you know, I'm not the only one who knows this. Still the guys from ...

- Stop, I don't give a shit what anyone says about me. Focus better on your work, not on gossip. That sounds like jealousy - he showed him his tongue and went to his office.

Kevin stared for a moment at the door with which Colin had just disappeared. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating his sandwich.

Colin rushed into the office and sat down at his desk. He booted up the computer and the archives.

"Search: Hotel Cortez"

- Maybe there is an unresolved case - he said to himself.

He scrolled through the documentation and came across two unfinished cases.

"Missing tourists from Colorado. Not found."

"Young couple from Texas. Not found.”

He quickly ran out of his office and ran to Mare.

Without knocking, he entered her office.

- Mare, Mare! I need a search warrant for the Hotel Cortez, right now! - he leaned against her desk and smiled broadly.

Mare looked at him silently, crooking with displeasure.

- This is why such an invention as the door was created. To give people at least some privacy and silence. Start knocking, Zabel. You're starting to annoy me more and more - she returned to her reading.

- Mare, I'm sorry, but I'm so excited that I completely forgot to knock. I'm sorry - he sat down - Mare please, I need it, it's urgent.

- Hotel Cortez? After all, we gave up on these things a long time ago. If I remember correctly, there were two.

- Yes, exactly two. A female tourist and a married couple. Both cases involve disappearances. I have read that the basement and catering facilities were left out during the search. Why?

- That was four years ago. You were not here then. These rooms were left out because there was some big party in the hotel. There was a lot going on in the kitchen. We didn't want to make a fuss.

- And the basement? - He asked curiously.

- There was a renovation there and a lot of dust. We gave up and said that we would return to the subject when it was quieter in the hotel.

- But you didn't come back.

- Exactly. And what about this, Mr. Detective?

- I want to search the basement of the hotel - he said excitedly.

- Alone?

Colin looked at Mare for a moment, thinking.

- Okay, you come to me with such enthusiasm, you almost tear my door out of the frames, and now you don't know what you really want? You can go crazy with you! - she rolled her eyes - don't you have anything to say? Just come out and let me work - she pointed to the door - there is a door there and please close it gently.

- Oh no, Mare! I really know what I want. Don't make me leave because I'm silent for a few seconds - he said exasperatedly.

- That was one second too long - she sighed.

- Okay! Yes, I want to go alone. I'll take the gun, I don't know why but I'll take it. Just to feel safe. Can you get me that search warrant? Please - he smiled as broadly as he could.

Mare stared at him. She shook her head in displeasure and dialed the number.

- Good morning, boss, I want to ask permission to write a search warrant for the Hotel Cortez, again. Yes, exactly the two uncompleted cases. Of course. Zabel, he wants to go alone - Mare covered the phone and turned to Colin - When do you want to go?

- Today, if it’s possible.

- He says he wants to go today. Yes sir, I will have the relevant documents prepared. Thank you, boss.

- And? - Asked Colin nervously spinning in his chair.

- Yes, you have the approval. At 11:00 come to me for both warrants.

- I need as many as two warrants? - He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

- Of course! Is this the first time you work in the police? You need a separate warrant for each case. There are two, which means two warrants. Get out of here. I have a lot of work - she pointed to the door again.

- Okay, see you later. Thanks.

Colin walked contentedly down the corridor, smiling from ear to ear. In his head he was already laying out a plan of action. What he would say, how he would act. He just hoped that the hotel owner would react and respond the way he would like. That is, he would cooperate with him.

- Dude, there's really something wrong with you. I think you need a vacation - Kevin snapped him out of his reverie.

- And you need a diet and a gym - Colin rebuked him.

- Not true! My wife says I look sexy!

- Maybe he needs glasses - he added, entering his office. And he was already about to close the door....

- I'm about to punch you in that beautiful face, Zabel!

Colin leaned out into the corridor.

- I don't advise it, I don't want you to cry, or worse, lose your job - he laughed and closed the door.

He expected Kevin to burst into his office and say something else, but that didn't happen. He laughed under his breath and set about putting together an action plan for the day.

He couldn't wait to see the woman who had been in his head all along again. It had been two months since their last meeting. Two months too long. Of course, he remembers that she asked him not to speak to her again... It's not that easy. He became very attached to her. He felt comfortable in her company. He missed it. He didn't get his hopes up that it would be more than a brief conversation. He just wanted to see her and make sure she was okay. Let's hope he wouldn’t regret it.

——————————-

It was approaching 11:00 a.m. He picked up his things and documents. He went to the bathroom, fixed his hair and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

- You can do it, you're the best! - he sighed loudly.

He took his coat and briefcase with documents. He locked his office and went to Mare to get the warrants. This time he knocked on her door.

- May I? - He opened the door.

- Yes, it's nice of you to ask. Maybe there will still be something from you. Here are your documents. Take care and if something happens call - she smiled.

- I hope it won't be necessary. But thanks. See you tomorrow, Mare - he put the documents in his briefcase and left.

————————

He arrived at the hotel quickly, parked in the nearest parking lot and headed for the hotel. He nervously swallowed his saliva and fixed his hair. He felt himself getting hot. He stopped in front of the entrance wondering if he was doing the right thing. Finally, he entered the hotel. With a slow step, he headed toward the reception desk. He looked around the hall. There was no one in the lobby. He looked nervously behind him, it seemed to him that someone was watching him. He approached the reception desk. There was no one here either. He rang the bell a few times. He heard a noise and some conversation in the next room. A woman looked out and smiled broadly at him.

- Good morning, how can I help you? Do you have a reservation? - she said looking at the stranger, although she thought she had seen him before.

- Good morning. I don't have a reservation. I came here about the disappearance of four people.

- Ah, you are from the police.

- Yes, Detective Colin Zabel. I have a warrant to search the hotel again - he reached into his briefcase and pulled out the relevant documents. He placed them in front of her.

- I understand, however, I am not so competent to give you any information. Please wait, I will contact the owner of the hotel. He will give you answers to all your questions. I'll be right back - she returned to the room she had left earlier.

Colin looked around the lobby again. The first time he'd been here, he hadn't had a chance to explore. The hotel would be lavishly decorated, with lots of gold and large crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The owner had taken care of the smallest detail.

He sat down on the couch and breathed deeply. Suddenly he jumped up, frightened.

- Good morning, Mr. Detective… Zabel. If I'm not mistaken - a man dressed in a smart suit was standing in front of him. He was smoking a cigarette and looked at him with superiority.

- Good morning - he got up from the couch and held out his hand toward him to greet him - Colin Zabel, detective.

- I understand - he looked at his hand, but did not shake it, only smiled artificially - James Patrick March, I am the owner of this hotel. How can I help you, Mr. Detective - he inhaled his cigarette and blew the smoke in Colin's direction.

- Hmm... - he moved away from James and looked at him angrily - I came to resume the case of four missing persons. Who are believed to have disappeared on the grounds of your hotel. I have warrants to search again - he handed him the documents.

James looked at the warrants, then again at Colin and again at the warrants. He inhaled heavily on his cigarette and let out the smoke loudly. Then he inhaled again and let the smoke out through his nose. He shook his head with disapproval. He returned his eyes to his interlocutor.

- Yes... yes... it's really interesting - he handed the documents back to Colin - very interesting. Just curious about one thing, namely. What is the real reason for your arrival at my hotel? I know perfectly well who you are, Mr. Colin - he smiled mockingly.

- I don't know you and I see you for the first time with my eyes. The only information I have about you is that you are the owner of this beautiful hotel.

- Truly fascinating. But it seems to me that you know a lot more. Since you are so secretive, I will tell you who you are. You are the would-be lover of the lady of my heart. My bird in a golden cage. Please don't think I'm stupid. I saw through you right away - he stabbed him in the chest with his finger - I do not agree with the nonsense you come here with. And, of course, I know that this is just an excuse to meet Roberta, by chance - he inhaled his cigarette again - please leave the premises of my hotel. You know perfectly well where the exit is.

- Unfortunately, you cannot refuse. If there is a warrant, you cannot object. Please allow me to carry out these activities. Otherwise, the FBI will step in and the hotel will be closed for the search. And I do not guarantee that it will be open again. Your choice - Colin clenched his hands nervously on the briefcase. He was starting to get hot. He stated that he would still say something - I would also like to confirm your words regarding Roberta. Yes, I was hoping to meet her and ask her how she is, if it's not a problem - he swallowed his saliva loudly.

- This is not quite what I wanted to hear, but I will go back to the first part of your statement and summarize. You are threatening me, Mr. Zabel. I don't like it because I am not being threatened. You should have known that before you crossed the threshold of this building. Please leave this hotel.

- No.

- No… no... Well, we'll talk differently - He grabbed Colin by the sleeve of his coat and pulled him toward the room near the reception desk, locked the door behind them - Lizzie, watch that stupid boy. The poor guy doesn't know who he's messing with.

Colin looked confused, not knowing what was going on. He looked at Lizzie. He wanted to look at James again, but the latter had disappeared somewhere.

- What's going on?

- I think you have a problem, the boss doesn't like it when someone contradicts him. But I won't say anything more.

- I don't understand why I was locked up here.

Lizzie sat down on a chair and took a book in her hand.

Colin looked around the room. There were lots of bookshelves, a few cabinets and a glass display case with the keys to the hotel rooms. There was also a second door. He walked over to it and grabbed the handle.

- I don't advise it and they are closed anyway. Besides, there isn't even anything that interesting there - Lizzie said without lifting her eyes from the book.

- Let me out of here, please. I'll leave the hotel and never come back again - he said in a pleading tone.

- I have no say in the matter.

Suddenly the door to the reception side opened.

- Follow me, Mr. March invites you upstairs - a maid entered the room.

- I'm not going anywhere. Please let me out of this building! - shouted Colin.

- I don't think so. Please follow me - she moved so that he could pass - if you cooperate, Mr. March will not harm you.

- Harm?!

- Oh, please forgive me, sometimes I don't think before I say something - she laughed nervously.

- I'm not going anywhere - he stopped at the reception desk.

- Mr. March asked me to tell you that Mrs. Roberta is waiting upstairs.

- I don't know if I can believe that - he furrowed his eyebrows.

- Oh, Mr. March never lies. Please follow me.

Colin said no more. He moved behind the unknown woman. They entered the elevator and went to the 5th floor. The woman smiled warmly at him, he did not reciprocate it. The elevator stopped and they stepped out into the corridor. They stopped in front of a door that said:

"SERVICE ROOM"

- Feel free to come inside - she smiled warmly at him again.

He turned his head in her direction, but she was gone. He was alone. He pressed the door handle and went inside. The room was dark. The door closed behind him with a quiet click. He tried to fumble for the button to turn on the light on the wall. Suddenly he felt a sharp headache and almost fell. He was hit on the head with a blunt instrument.

- What's going on! Who is here?! - he shouted still trying to find the light switch. Under his fingers he felt the handle. He pressed on it. The door was closed.

Again he felt the impact, this time he lost consciousness and fell inertly to the ground.

He woke up with a sharp headache. He was all achy. He opened his eyes, the light was on. He looked around the room. There were racks of clean linens and towels. There was a chute in the wall for dirty laundry. He tried to get up from the chair, but was tied. His hands were tied behind his back and his legs to the legs of the chair. He looked at the floor and saw a blood stain. He didn't know if it belonged to him. He licked his lips and felt the taste of blood on his tongue. He had dried blood under his nose.

- Hello, is anyone there! Hello! Someone free me! - he tried to cry out for help, but to no avail. He sighed loudly and closed his eyes.

- I think your screams will be of no use. No one will hear you. These walls are soundproof - James approached the wall and stroked it proudly - ah, my greatest creation.

- Let me out - said Colin in a calm voice.

- I don't know if this is a good idea - James walked up to him and forced Colin to look at him - be cultured and look at me when I'm talking to you - he waved the hammer in front of his nose - I really liked this tool, it's really effective.

- What do you want to do with me?

- I wanted to play, just like you played with the lady of my heart. Did you have fun?

- I only kissed her. Nothing more happened - he answered again in a calm voice. He knew there was no point in shouting.

- You just kissed her... just kissed her... just! Or maybe, not just! - hit him in the face with the fist. His head sprang back and he felt blood pouring from his nose again. He also felt blood in his mouth. He hung his head trying to control the pain. He watched his blood drip onto the floor.

- Why are you doing this to me? Is it all because I didn't want to leave your hotel? - He spat out the blood. The puddle was getting bigger and bigger.

- You messed with the wrong man my boy. Didn't Roberta ask you the previous time not to come here again? Are you stupid? Don't you understand what is being said to you? - James punched him in the face again. Colin spat blood on the floor in silence.

- Why don't you try to fight? Have you given up? - James laughed out loud - silence is your greatest weapon? - he walked closer to Colin and unbuttoned his coat, looking into his pockets - wallet, police badge, pen, some papers... just junk... - he unbuttoned his coat more - oh please what we have here - he was pleased to see a gun under his arm. He unbuckled the gun and pulled it out - a beautiful toy - he looked at the gun from all sides and weighed it in his hand - perfectly balanced. Your private toy?

- Yes, private - he spat out blood again.

- I like it - he opened the magazine and began to enumerate - one in the right foot, the second in the left foot, the third in the thigh, straight in the artery, the fourth... hmm... let me think - he scratched his chin in thought - let it be in your dick, although you will never need it again anyway, but it's better not to risk it. Well the last one... right on the forehead - he laughed out loud - I will be kind and not let you suffer for a long time. Appreciate my kindness - he approached Colin and stroked his head - well then where was it? - he pointed the gun at his right foot.

Colin closed his eyes waiting for the pain.

- Mr. March? Should I clean up already? - The maid entered the room carrying a bucket of water and a cloth.

- Mrs. Evers! What am I telling you all the time! I will inform you when something needs to be cleaned! Please get out of here! - he shouted at her pointing a gun at her.

- Ah Mr. March, I would give my life for you again!

- Please get out of here! Immediately!

- Excuse me - she walked out.

- What do you mean "again"? - puzzled Colin.

- Silence!

- This is interesting.

- Boy, you're digging yourself a grave - James pointed the gun at the towel rack and fired. A loud bang sounded and several towels and pieces of wood fell to the ground - I wasted one precious bullet - he rolled his eyes.

- Maybe somehow we can get along? - Colin tried to save his situation.

———————

Roberta heard a knock on the door to her room.

- Please come in - she said putting down her book - Lizzie, welcome!

- Honey, you won't believe it! - Lizzie quickly ran up to her.

- What's going on? - Roberta noticed the terror in her eyes.

- Colin!

- What Colin?

- What do you mean what Colin?! Roberta! - grabbed her hands and forced her to get up from the couch.

- Oh God! What is he doing here?! Where is he?! - she started pacing nervously around the room.

- He is with James.

- With James?! Oh God! Where is he?! Speak up! - grabbed Lizzie by the shoulders and shook her.

- They are on the fifth floor in the bedding warehouse. I don't know if Colin is still alive. I was at the door and eavesdropped. I heard the sound of a gunshot - Lizzie covered her face with her hands.

Roberta fell to her knees and burst into tears. Lizzie came up from her and tried to help her get up. Her legs refused to obey.

- Roberta! Get up, we have to go and save him! Maybe it's not too late! Maybe he's alive! - she grabbed her hand. They ran out of the suite and headed for the elevator.

- Faster, faster! - cried Roberta.

- It's here! - They entered the elevator - Fifth floor!

- I'm about to pass out, I'm weak! Lizzie... - Roberta leaned against the glass wall of the elevator and hugged her cheek to the cold mirror.

- Breathe, breathe...

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. This time they walked slowly and quietly. They didn't want to make any noise in case James was still with Colin. They walked up to the door and started listening. The room was quiet.

- I'm going in - said Roberta - I have to see if he's there - she pressed the handle and carefully pushed the door open.

- Be careful - whispered Lizzie.

Roberta went inside and was horrified by what she found. In the middle of the room stood a chair, and on it sat Colin. He was tied up. His head was hanging down and he was unconscious, or maybe dead. There was blood all around him. The floor and his clothes, blood everywhere. There was no one else in the room. She was afraid to approach him, afraid to touch him to see if he was alive. She was terrified. Tears flowed into her eyes again. On shaky legs, she approached Colin slowly. She walked around him, looking at him closely. His chest was moving slightly, he was breathing, still alive. She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

- Colin... Colin... dear... - she poked him lightly, he did not respond - what he did to you… I would kill him if I could - her breath hitched - Colin, I beg you to wake up - she knelt down in front of him. She grabbed his cheeks and lifted his head. His whole face was battered and bruised. He was covered in blood - oh God, Colin - she wept loudly.

Colin felt and heard that someone was by his side and someone was touching him. But all this was like through a fog. He felt weak, did not have the strength to move or even open his eyes. The touch he felt was different from before, he did not feel pain. This touch expressed concern, it was gentle. He felt tears flowing into his eyes. He felt his body trembling, as if to let him know to gather his strength and let him know he was alive, to open his eyes, to lift his head and look at the person in front of him.

He slightly lifted his eyelids and noticed hands resting on his thighs, he knew those hands. He closed his eyes again and raised his head. He opened his eyes and saw....

- Are you an angel? Did I die? - he said in a whisper.

- No - she laughed - it's me, Roberta. You're still alive - she started crying again.

- Roberta... that is, an angel after all - this was the sight he had waited so long for.

- Colin ... what he did to you ... - she stroked his cheek.

- Can you untie me? Please... - he smiled slightly.

- Ah, yes, I forgot. Wait - she went towards the door - Lizze, help me, quickly! He is alive!

- Holy God! - the only thing she was able to say. She stood shocked.

- Move! Soak some towels in warm water - Roberta grabbed a knife and started cutting the ropes.

- I’ve got them - she approached them with a towel.

- Start wiping his face, just gently - Roberta was still trying to cut the ropes.

Colin slowly stretched his hands in front of him and rested them on his thighs. They were purple and he had practically no feeling in them. He tried to straighten up in the chair, but he was too sore. He felt that his legs were also freed.

Roberta grabbed a wet towel and began to wipe his face. He closed his eyes and drew in the air loudly. It hurt, but not that much.

- I'm sorry, I know it hurts you. I try to do it gently - said Roberta.

- I'll be fine.

- I know - she felt herself wanting to cry again - it will be fine, I promise.

Colin opened his eyes and stared at her, following her every move. Her makeup was smudged from crying, but she still looked beautiful.

- I missed you - he whispered.

- You'd better keep quiet - she laughed.

- I know... I shouldn't have come here... - he sighed - but I had to.

- What you did... that was the stupidest idea you could have come up with - she stepped away from him for a moment to wet another towel. He didn't take his eyes off her.

- I know that too... but it was worth it. I can see you again - he smiled weakly.

- You are really stupid - sighed Roberta returning to washing his face.

- It's a fact, but when someone is in love, he can do anything. Regardless of whether he can survive it or not - he touched her thigh and gently stroked it.

Roberta did not respond to his words. Tears were dripping down her cheeks, she was unable to stop them.

- Come on - she gave him a hand - stand up... slowly.

Colin got up slowly, but felt he was about to fall. His body was not cooperating with him. He leaned on Roberta to keep from falling.

- Let's go, you need to lie down - they started walking slowly to the exit - Lizzie, don't stand there, help me. He is heavy.

- I've lost weight recently, I don't have time to eat properly - he laughed.

- You look very good - said Lizzie.

- Thank you.

They went into the nearest room by the bedding storage. They laid Colin down on the bed. He closed his eyes relishing the softness of the bed.

- You can go now, I'll take care of him - Roberta said to Lizzie.

- If you need anything, call me, I'll be where I usually am.

- Thanks.

She walked over to Colin and looked at his bruised face. He had a cut on his eyebrow arch, cheek and mouth in several places. He still looked very good.

- Don't you know it's not nice to stare like that? - he laughed.

- I guess I don't know.

- That's what you know now, but I'm letting you stare.

- We have to undress you. You're all dirty - she sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over him. She loosened his tie and took it off over his head. She began to undo the buttons of his shirt. With her fingertips she lightly touched his warm skin.

- That's nice - he said, not taking his eyes off her - look at me - he grabbed her gently by the chin and lifted her head - why do you hurt to look at me?

- I'm remorseful... all of this... James... it's all my fault. I'm sorry - a single tear dripped down Colin's bare torso - he could have killed you.

- It's not your fault. He messed me up pretty good, but I'm alive. I don't know why he left and didn't kill me.

- What do you mean he left? - Roberta got curious.

- He just walked out without saying a word and left me. I don't remember much. When he left I was already on the verge of losing consciousness. The only thing I remember is that he took my gun with him.

- Another one for the collection... - she whispered.

- Excuse me?

- Nothing. I'll take off your pants now - she began to undo his belt.

- Do you have something for me to change into? Or are you leaving me like this?

- I'll find something. You should take a nap.

- I don't want to. I've already lost too much time - he grabbed her hand when she wanted to leave - stay with me - he pulled her to him.

- Colin... I can't! - she squealed.

Colin pulled her on top of him and hugged her tightly.

- I missed - he closed his eyes and inhaled her scent.

Roberta raised her head and looked at him.

- And do you know what I missed?

- I don't know.

- This - she kissed him gently on the lips - it hurts?

- A little, but I can bear it - he pulled her to him and kissed her.

Roberta entwined her hands in his hair. He hugged her tightly, as if he was afraid she would escape him.

- What about... - he interrupted the kiss - you know....

- James?

- Yes.

- He's not 100% faithful to me either - she kissed him again, this time more greedily, but still gently. She felt a slight taste of blood.

Colin turned them around and was now over her. He leaned on his hands on either side of her head.

- You are so beautiful - he returned to the kiss.

He started kissing her jaw and went down to her neck, collarbone....

- May I? - He asked while grabbing the strap from her bra.

- I think you feel better already - she laughed.

- Yes, that's right - he slipped off her bra strap and kissed her body as if he was hungry.

He felt no pain. Her presence acted on him like painkillers. He felt he was alive again. But he knew that he would not be happy all the time. This joy was only for a while. He wanted to get as much as he could.

He slipped off her bra and looked at her breasts.

- Wow - he parted his lips in delight - beautiful.

He leaned over and took her nipple into his mouth. He sucked it and gently kissed it. Roberta's back arched and she sighed loudly. She grabbed his hair.

He continued the sweet torture with his mouth, and his hands wandered under her dress. He stroked her thighs heading higher and higher. He touched her panties with his fingers.

- God, you are so wet. After all, I haven't done anything yet, wow.

- Shut up and continue! - She pulled him by his hair upwards and kissed him on the lips again.

With his fingers, he pushed aside her wet panties and slipped them between her wet, swollen lips. He spread her sweet juices and massaged her pleasure button.

- Colin! Ah... I want more! - she bit him on his lips.

- Ough! That hurts! - He kissed her hard and slipped one finger inside her.

- Colin! - she moaned loudly.

He slid into her again and again feeling her tremble at his every move. How she tightened her grip on his finger.

- Enough - she whispered in his ear - I want you inside me - she bit his ear.

- Now? - He slid his other finger inside her.

- Yes!

Without pulling his fingers out of her, he slipped his boxers off with his other hand and pushed her dress higher.

He spread her thighs apart and removed his fingers from her. Roberta moaned. She felt an emptiness, she wanted to feel full again.

- Fuck me! Colin! - She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer to her.

- As you wish.

He began rubbing against her hot entrance and unexpectedly slid inside her. Piece by piece, allowing her to get used to his length. They both parted their lips and stared at each other with wide-open eyes.

- Oh fuck, you're amazing! - they said simultaneously.

Roberta grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss.

Colin began to move. Slowly at first, he felt he didn't have as much energy as he wanted. But after a while, he felt his energy returning with every movement of his hips. He delved deep into her. He felt warmth and a pleasant wetness. His dick was in paradise. He could feel Roberta clamping down on him, could feel her trembling beneath him. He felt that she was getting closer and closer to fulfillment. He also felt wonderful. They kissed greedily without being able to take their hands off each other. Roberta hugged him tightly to her.

- I can't stand it any longer! Colin! - she was all trembling.

- Let's do it together!

They both screamed into each other's mouths reaching their fulfillment. Colin sank down on top of her breathing heavily.

Roberta laughed.

- Why are you laughing? - Colin raised his head and looked into her eyes.

- It was amazing. I think it was from happiness.

He smiled broadly at her.

- Well, well, well... what I see here. Fascinating.

Roberta and Colin sat frightened on the bed and looked around the room. Twilight reigned and not much could be seen.

- James? - whispered Roberta.

- Yes, it's me! You guessed it! Surprise! - James came out of the darkness and stood by the bed. He took out a cigarette case from the inside pocket of his jacket and took out one cigarette. He put it in his mouth and fired it up. He let the smoke out in their direction - are you having fun lovebirds? Without me? Not nice - he shook his head with displeasure.

- Were you here all the time? - Roberta corrected her dress.

- Yes, you guessed again! - he sat down on the edge of the bed - you made beautiful sounds my dearest. This is music to my ears. It must have been very pleasant for you - he inhaled his cigarette - right?

Roberta looked at him in horror and remained silent.

- Would you be so kind and answer my question? That's what culture dictates. Well, there you go, I'm waiting.

Roberta looked at Colin, who tried to cover himself with the quilt, but they were lying on top of it, so had a problem with that.

- Well, I'm waiting - he smiled.

- Yes, it was very pleasant for me.

- Oh, that's great. Just know that this was the last time - he pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Colin.

- What are you doing?! James! You're cheating on me too! Put it away, immediately! - she shouted.

- Don't be ridiculous - he got up from the bed and walked around it coming closer to Colin.

- Boy, oh what were you in for. A moment's pleasure worth dying for? I left you in the storeroom hoping that Mrs. Evers would shove you unconscious into the chute with the dirty sheets and clean up the mess as usual. Of course, it wasn't me who made this all mess, it was you. It was your blood that soiled the floor and the walls - he unholstered the gun with a quiet click - you have no idea how happy she will be to have a little another bedding to wash. I guess it's a hobby for her - he pointed the gun at him and shot him in the arm - perfection!

Colin grabbed his arm and slumped on the bed, screaming and squirming in pain.

- Colin! Oh God! Colin! - she clenched her hand at the site of the gunshot to dam the blood.

- A beautiful sight! I hope I hit the best spot. I love the colour red! - he laughed out loud - have fun! - He threw the gun on the bed, turned around and left the room.

- Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell! You said it would be fine! He is mentally ill! Why are you with him?! - Colin said incessantly - It hurts! I can't stand it! Call the emergency room!

- Calm down, calm down, breathe - she tried to calm him down.

- I'm supposed to be calm?! Fuck!

Roberta ran to the phone and I called the front desk.

- Lizzie! Quickly call an ambulance! James has shot Colin! Quickly! - she threw the receiver and ran to the clothes lying on the floor. She pulled the belt out of his pants.

- I'm about to pass out - he said quietly - Roberta....

- Take it easy now, don't fall asleep, look at me - she grabbed his arm and wrapped it with the belt, tightening it tightly - I hope this will help stop the blood... I really hope so - she kissed him on the forehead - Colin stay with me, the ambulance will come soon and they will help you. I promise - she cried.

To be continued…

Taglist: @robnovetre @team-evan-peters @spill-the-t @yes-divine-ruler @my-own-walker @frankenkyle19 @taintandviolent @innocent-writers-soul @paulinepaul @silverzoomies @divineruler @thewolveswithin @evannppeters @evan4ever @evanspresso @evanpeterswhoresblog @zipzapzabel @evpeters87 @alex-90s-blog

#evan peters #evan is my crush #yyyyyy_okay #dahmer #kai anderson #james march #james patrick march x reader #james patrick march #colin zabel smut #colin zabel fanfic #colin zabel #evan peters fanfic #evan peters smut #mare of easttown #smut #oh my gooood #oh well

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pixiemage · 7 months

Text

Not Allowed

(A snippet from an AU I've been cooking up for a while. It's more of an ensemble universe, where each character has their own story to tell...so you should be hearing more from the other mages in this world in the future. Surprisingly enough, this AU started with Martyen and Ren, but I have yet to write anything for them yet. This snippet isn't the first scene I've written either...but that fic will only come out once I've deemed it complete. So enjoy some Ethubs content in the meantime!)

[This story is also available on Archive Of Our Own]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They had only discovered how disliked witches and their familiars were after already setting foot in the town, and with them both being newcomers, there were too many curious eyes on them from the second they arrived. Bdubs had been riding in owl form on Etho's shoulder for the most recent part of the trip, his tiny form tucked up against the fluff of Etho's hood with his talons tightly gripping the fabric of his magebond's jacket. He had intended to turn back to his human form (or at least an avian one) once they arrived in town.

But the signs were clear from the moment they stepped past the border. The banning of witches from most inns and taverns, the refusal of service to hybrids and those of non-overworld descent. The first posting they passed by made Etho go still, and he brought a hand up to hold Bdubs closer to the crook of his neck. Bdubs took a moment or two longer to register the signs, hooting indignantly and nipping at Etho's fingers - but once he spotted what Etho was looking at he, too, grew tense. He shrank into Etho's palm and pivoted his head about, trying to get an eye on any of the locals.

"Stay close," Etho murmured, already combing a hand through his bangs to try and hide the red of his magical eye. "We'll be fine. One night, and we'll leave. Okay? Next town's another day's trip north."

Bdubs cooed and tucked himself into the fluff of Etho's hood as best he could, half-hidden from view but still able to see. They'd be fine.

Being outsiders, of course, brought curious eyes to them more frequently than Etho would have liked. His own non-traditional clothing and appearance didn't help things either. Their stop at a local tavern for food had gone mostly uninterrupted, with Etho discreetly replicating his own meal using a low-profile spell and tucking away what he could for Bdubs to eat later. He snuck his familiar bits of meat from his own plate, not so much caring if someone noticed he'd brought a "pet" into the building. Most people were too busy with their own meals anyhow, and with their table tucked away in a dark corner of the room, most eyes passed over their chosen corner without a second glance.

It was when they stepped into the nearest inn that questions arose.

"Who's that you've got with you?"

Etho was halfway through counting out some money when her question met his ear, her eyes curious as she stared at a spot near his shoulder. Bdubs. Crap.

"Oh, you know," he said casually, his eyes crinkling into a forced smile. "Travelling gets a bit lonely. I like having a friend to keep me company."

Beside his ear, Bdubs' talons dug into Etho's shoulder, and he could almost imagine the squinting little glare he was attempting to level the innkeeper with.

"So you picked an owl?"

"Mhm." Etho shoved the rest of his money back in his pocket and reached up, all but expecting the tiny screech of protest when he caught Bdubs by the legs. He lifted his familiar from his shoulder easily, watching Bdubs ruffle his wings for balance before he settled - rather petulantly - atop Etho's hand. He hooted and nipped at Etho's fingers, though with the gloves Etho was wearing it didn't do much. "He’s a saw-whet. He's been with me for a few years now. Smart lil' guy too. I don't have to worry about him getting into too much trouble, and he always comes back if he goes off to fly for a little while."

"Oh, does he?" The woman was smiling brightly now, completely enamored by how adorable Bdubs was. (Not that Etho could blame her. He really was cute like this. He was cute when he was human, too, but that was beside the point.) "He must really like you to stick around like that."

"Oh, he loves me," Etho said brightly, and Bdubs immediately puffed up, his eyes wide and his feathers all aflutter. It took everything Etho had not to snicker at how flustered he looked. "And he's just the sweetest too! Aren't you, buddy?" He ran a gentle finger over the feathers atop Bdubs' head. For a moment he looked as though he wanted to try and bite Etho all over again - but just like Etho knew he would, he ended up caving and melting into the little show of affection. "Yeah. You're my sweet boy, aren't you? Such a cutie."

Bdubs turned and pressed himself against Etho's raised palm, letting out a tittering little sound and shooting Etho a hilariously ineffective glare. He hid himself behind his wing in a way that left Etho biting back laughter. Oh, he was in for it, wasn't he?

"Well normally we don't like animals in our rooms," the woman behind the desk said, "but I'll make an exception this time. He seems so sweet and polite. He won't be much trouble, will he?"

Etho chuckled.

"Nah, not at all. I promise."

It was only once they were hidden away behind the locked door of their room that Etho let himself laugh, just a little, with Bdubs attempting to murder his glove with his talons all the while. Etho dumped his travel pack on the lone bed and sat on the end of it, watching with amusement as Bdubs took off from his glove to land on his knee instead. There was a brilliant glow and a moment later Bdubs was back in his much more human form, straddling Etho's lap with his hands clamped on Etho's shoulders and a red-faced glare on his face.

"Cutie?” he demanded, the (now much larger) wings still present behind him fluffing up all over again. “Sweet boy?? What the heck, Etho?!”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. He reached up and tugged his mask down, revealing the cheeky little smile behind it. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Well I–” Bdubs spluttered, floundering, his wings curling forward as if to hide him from view. “That’s not fair! I couldn’t say anything back!”

“Mhm,” Etho agreed. “It’s fun to see you get riled up.”

Bdubs opened his mouth a few times, unable to quite find the right argument, and then settled on not saying anything at all. He closed the gap between them and dragged Etho into a kiss, one hand tangling in his hair and the other clutching at the fluff of his hood. When they broke apart, Bdubs huffed.

“...you’re lucky you were wearing gloves,” he grumbled after a moment, and Etho - who had pressed their foreheads together - merely laughed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(There's a mass post I made with my ideas months ago, but it's gotten lost in my tumblr history. If I find it again I'll link it!)

#Pixiemage Writes #Ethubs #Ethoslab #Bdubs #Magebound AU #Pixie's Magebound AU #Hermitshipping #Trafficshipping #witch!Etho #owl!Bdubs #Hermitcraft #Trafficblr

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thebluemoonjune · 28 days

Text

The Sounds Of A Black Dahlia- Chapter 1

Summary:

8 years after marrying into a rich but cruel and messed-up family, Michonne, a loving mother and dutiful wife, finds herself in the middle of a brewing storm that may take everything she cares for, all while an unexpected member of the family returns, wanting to cause even more chaos and uproot her already troublesome life. AU Richonne centred. The first chapter is the prologue.

Michonne styled her butterfly locs in front of the mirror in her pink silk robe. The mirror captured a stranger, empty and bored eyes, the glitter of vitality gone, replaced by the dormant look of disillusionment, casting doubts on her own identity. She had already put on her make-up and just needed to put on her dress and jewellery. When she was finished with her hair, she got up and went to the long, red, satin, side-split, spaghetti-strap Chanel corset dress when Shane entered her bedroom.

“You’re still getting dressed? We’re gonna be late!”

Her cold gaze fixed on the anxious young man; her eyes narrowed, and she got a vertical wrinkle between her eyebrows. Her lips pursed slightly.

“You seem to forget who you’re talking to. However loud and gruff your tone gets with your whore, don’t try that bullshit with me. I’m not in the mood.” Shane took a breath, not wanting to argue.

“Baby…I didn’t mean to yell at you, but we’re gonna be late. It’s an important night, and this is important to me. You can be mad; I’m gonna need you to keep that attitude in check; when we get back home, you can yell, cuss, or whatever, but none of that horseshit now.”

“You can leave without me, or you can call whatever her name is. I’m sure she would love to get out of that cave you keep her in.”

“Can you behave for once?”

“I don’t know, Shane; can you be faithful for once? Can you be a good father for once? Can’t you be a man for once? No? Then do not rush me. If you want a pretty, supportive wife, fine, I’ll put on the mask, but do not rush me!” She zipped up her dress.

“Don’t bring the kids into this. You don’t wanna go there…I know you're mad at me, but... baby, it’s complicated.”

“Shane… I want a divorce.” She went for her silver heels, not looking him in the face. “Andre and Maliyah are young; we should do it soon rather than drawing this out and letting it hurt them.”

“What?” Not acknowledging his confusion, she continued.

“They’ll ask questions at first, but they’ll let it go. I want you to move out permanently so they get used to it quickly.”

“Baby, I know you’re angry. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? I‘ll be downstairs; don’t forget the driver’s waiting.” He kissed her cheek and turned to leave.

Michonne let out a lengthy sigh as she watched her husband head downstairs. If she had known then what she knew now, she would not have married him. How could a man have two families? How could he say he loved her while being between her and another woman? How could he marry her, knowing that there was someone else? How could she still love that man? Those types of questions plagued her almost every day. She sat in front of the mirror yet again, staring at her perfectly coiffed face.

Come on, Michonne... This is an important night for our family; you shouldn’t delay any longer.

She stood up and stuffed her phone, breath mints, charger, hand sanitiser, and cosmetics into her silver sol metal oval clutch. She wanted to see her children before leaving, so she dashed straight to the room they’d be in while she was out. Shane didn't want her to work, so she didn't. Prior to the birth of her baby, she spent her days doing whatever she desired—having fun, going on trips with her best friends and school—all whilst she was being a wife to her husband. She made several adjustments after becoming a mother, not because she needed to, but because she chose to. Shane made arrangements for her to hire a nanny. Michonne, on the other hand, declined. She did not fancy her children being raised by a stranger, knowing her as their mother in name and name alone. She couldn’t have that. She would be there for her children every step of the way, no matter what. Her love for motherhood didn’t hurt either. As Michonne entered the room, the kids were play-fighting with the babysitter, Beth. It was hard for Michonne to find a babysitter she was comfortable with. Interview after interview and nothing. It was her friend, Maggie, who told her to give her sister a try. Shane preferred someone more professional, but Michonne decided to take a chance this time, not wanting to offend her buddy. She was overjoyed since Beth was a wonderful girl who was excellent with her children. Michonne employed this as a means to assist the seventeen-year-old girl in saving for college without relying on handouts.

“Did you two little troublemakers not see your mother?”

“Mama!” Her younger baby called her first and she rushed over. Michonne picked her up, kissing her all over her face. “You look pweety, Mama!”

“Thank you, Bubba!” She fixed the three-year-old’s messy curls and turned to her son, who was still up under Beth. “Peanut? Did you not see me?

Her son was only six—only six—but had a premature love for women. He had a crush on Beth, and he was no different when Maggie and her friend Sasha were over at their house. He never crossed any inappropriate lines, although she saw he had a wandering eye. She recalled telling Shane about it for the first time. He laughed for ten minutes straight. This was a bad habit; she'd have to kick early or risk becoming a grandma when she wasn't ready. She'd have to keep a close eye on him, especially as he hits his teenage years. It may be innocent for now, but every time she looked at her baby boy, she was reminded of how fast time flew; he would be a man before she knew it.

“I saw you, Mama! I didn’t wanna dirty your dress!”

“Oh, so it was for my sake?”

“Mhmmm!” Michonne laughed at his excuse and walked to him.

“Well, can I at least get a kissy wissy to go?” He got up from the large beanbag, planting a kiss on her cheek before rubbing the tips of their noses together. “You and your sister go to bed on time; don’t give Beth any trouble, okay?”

“Okay!”

"Tomorrow, the three of us will go shopping to get you guys bikes. Lia is old enough now for a little one and you’ve outgrown yours.”

“Really?”

“Only if you two behave.”

“We will, we promise, Mama!” Maliyah nodded in agreement with her big brother. “Alright. I love you both! But mommy has to go!”

“Beth, call me if anything! Goldie already got her dinner, so she’ll sleep on her own.” She gave her daughter to the teen.

“I will!”

…

As Michonne walked to the stairs, she saw her husband at the end, waiting for her with an impatient expression laced on his handsome face. Noticing her finally coming down, he let out a sigh of relief.

“What took you?”

“Well, one of us had to settle the kids, right?”

“Sorry…”

“You're the guest of honour; your father isn’t going to change his mind at the last minute either. Calm yourself.”

“You’re right,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks, we should go.” Her tone was flat, almost cold.

…

The two sat at the back of his Bentley, five minutes away from their destination. Tonight would be the night her father-in-law announced that she was handing over the reins to his son, her husband. She was happy for him, ecstatic even, but she was also exhausted.

“I need a `goddamn cigarette.”

“Not in the car.”

“Oh, you ready to talk to me now… I didn’t go there to fuck her, if that’s what you think.”

“What was that?”

“I went to pull her up about that shit she pulled at the store. I haven’t been intimate with her for a long time.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Does it?” It did and she hated that it did. “I know it feels unfair to you, but Chonne, I can’t just kick her out of my life; we got two kids together.”

“Bastards.” It was wrong of her to say; the children were innocent. It didn’t change things, though.

“My children nonetheless.” He licked his lip as he rubbed his head. “She was in the picture long before you; it’s unfair to her too.”

“And yet you married me. Young, naive, clueless me. All because she wasn’t up to your father’s standards. I made the perfect wife. Young, educated, well-off and from a good family. Having a black wife on your arm also showed you were open-minded and a little liberal.” She gave a sad chuckle.

“Is that all you think you are to me? Woman, I love you. It may’ve started out that way when we tied the knot, but not for long. Chonne, I love you…”

“Can you blame me? You’re Emperor Qianlong and I’m Empress Nara, I just haven’t cut my hair yet... Everything is business with you people. You keep saying that you love me; is that really true?”

“Of course!”

“Then why is she still in the picture?”

“She’s in the picture because we got kids. I’ve explained it all before.”

“Again, Shane, why is she in the picture? The last time we had a fight, did you forget what you told me?” She positioned her body to see his face. “Feelings for your mistress aside, you could be in their lives without her. You could take them. Do you think I would hurt them?”

“It ain’t like that. I just—” At the same time, his phone rang. “Rick?”

“Rick?”

“Yeah, Man… We’re basically here, pulling up now… Tell my old man, we’ll be up soon... later.” Shane ended the call. “Dad wants to know where we are.”

“Well, we’re here... You never told me your brother was back.”

“You been mad at me all day; I ain’t got the chance.” He hit her with a smile, which she rolled her eyes at. “We’ll talk tomorrow, like I said. You know what we gotta do, right?”

He kissed her hand once more, then her neck, pausing to inhale her sweet scent as he placed his head on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and rested her chin on him. She married him when she was barely twenty; he was six years her senior. He courted her for six months at the behest of their parents prior to proposing. He was her first time, her first kiss, her first love—her first everything. She had no clue he was already in love with someone else and had a son with her. What disappointed her the most was that both of her parents were aware. They were aware and pushed her towards him anyway. Now she’s tied to him in more ways than one. He got up from the creek of her neck as the driver, Gareth, reached the entrance of the building. Coming to a stop, Gareth got out, opening the car door for Shane, who in turn held her hand, guiding her out. He fixed her dress and interlocked their fingers, strolling into the venue. Michonne, understanding the show was on the road, adjusted. Her shoulders were pulled back and she held her head high as she adorned herself with an enormous smile.

There were many people in the vestibule. There, they saw the familiar face of one of her father-in-law’s assistants, Tara. She wore a black, knee-length dress, formal enough for the event but conservative since she was here working. Noticing them both, her shoulders dropped and her face lit up as she hurried over.

“Finally! Your father has been asking questions for the past fifteen minutes! You know he hates being late.”

“We ain’t that late.”

“Yes, you are! We started half an hour ago!”

“Come on. Stop. Let’s go in. Before your father actually changes his mind.” They went towards the main hall, hand in hand.

“Who else is he gonna give it to? That whore’s brat is like ten.”

“Is that any way to talk about your stepmother, hmm? She might be an insufferable bitch, but don’t let anyone hear you. He’s eighteen, plus, even if Alex’s young, there’s Monty or Rick; your father has always loved him like a son. He’s a brother you actually like.”

“But he ain’t a Walsh; he’s a Grimes. That old fox would never give my mother the satisfaction. The day that happens, hell gonna freeze over. He’s far too damn cold and petty for that.”

“They’re getting a divorce and still so sour. Flaunting his mistress and children, being close to Rick... What a petty bastard.” His guffaws echoed in the large hall room, causing strangers to search for the source. “Calm yourself.” She patted his back like he was a choking toddler. “It’s not like your mother cares. She’s no different.”

In the vast crowd, they could see John Castus Walsh, the man of conversation, standing in the middle of the room with his thirty-six-year-old fiancée, Andrea Holden, among a couple of business partners. Noticing their arrival, John smiled in their direction, flagging them.

“You recognise ‘em?”

“Yes, the tall slender one is Negan Smith, The woman Daniella Dane, her husband has recently become a shareholder in the company. Josh Cophe may be the COO, but he’s dangerous, so careful and try to get rid of him. The one in the silver-grey suit is Philip Blake; he’s a politician.” Her husband sighed at the information.

“So we play dumb... Any trouble with the other shareholders? Were their wives friendly?”

“No. They were great at the dinner, and you can trust Morgan Jones… Shane… Just because he chose you, doesn’t mean you’re safe. Many poisonous snakes lay in the grass.”

“I know… You ready?”

“No, but it’s not about me; it’s about you.” She stroked his chest, staring deep into his eyes. “This is your night; you worked hard for this and it’s finally paying off. Regardless of everything, Shane, I am proud of you.”

She hooked herself underneath his arm and they made their way to the others. She could feel her husband staring at her but she did not return his gaze, simply staring straight ahead. He tightened his hold on her and spun his neck straight, smirking.

“Ah, let me introduce you to my son, Shane, and his lovely wife, Michonne,” he whispered to Shane. “You’re late,” then said to Michonne. “You look lovely, dear,” he smiled. “Shane, this is Josh Cophe, Negan Smith, Daniella Dane, and Philip Blake.”

“You have a lovely wife here.”

“Thank you Mr. Smith! She’s my partner in crime, this one. You got someone?”

“My wife Lucille. She isn’t here, though.”

“Sad to hear it. Maybe she and my Chonne can meet next time. And you must be, Mr. Blake.

“You’re a very talented young man as as my friend said, lovely wife!”

“Thank you, Mr. Blake. Wait… you’re running for governor.”

“Yes, he sure is and I’m backing him; we’re backing him.” John added.

“I see…”

Shane glanced at Michonne, who tried her best not to roll her eyes at the shenanigans she was witnessing. Business. It was always business. John didn’t even attempt to talk to his son about Blake’s politics or policies. It didn’t matter. If John Castus Walsh was anywhere near a politician, it wasn’t to plan for the betterment of his community. Michonne was about to slip away when an annoying voice rang in her ear.

“Well, could you two be any later? Or did Shane have outside business to attend to?”

“Andrea… Sorry, but you see, I was with my kids... Not everyone can relate, but surely you’d understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed as he attempted to decipher the cryptic message.

“Exactly as I said.”

“Your right. Hmm, speaking of children. I know you love yours very much, and so does Shane, right? I know he makes time for all of ‘em .” She made sure to draw out her last bit of words, twisting her knife.

Michonne looked Andrea up and down, a smile completely enveloping her face. She had to admit Andrea was stunning in her yellowish-green Valentino pleated strapless silk-blend gown. She had her hair in a beautiful French twist and a yellowish-green rhinestone flower clip to match. That, however, was where Michonne’s compliments came to an end. If she had to put words to thoughts, Andrea was, to put it simply, a money-hungry, vindictive, selfish, entitled, cunt of a woman who cared for nothing and no one other than herself. Not even her children were exempt from this, as they were simply insurance for her everlasting cash cow, whom she called a fiancé. Shane hated her to the moon and back. He could see through her from the day he met her thirteen years ago. It didn’t help that they were almost the same age either.

“Yes, something that everyone doesn’t do. You know, sex parties, drugs, trip here, trip there! Like shameless, egotistical, self-centred whores. No sense of responsibility, even to their kids... A sad state of affairs…” She tried to suppress her giggling, but ended up bursting into loud laughter. This drew attention from Blake. “Shane, sweetheart, I'm going to look for my parents. You know how much I miss them.”

“Alright, come look for me when done.” He knew she was lying and probably wanted to leave due to being tired of her quiet sparring with Andrea. She also hated her parents.

He gave her a demure kiss, sending her off. Michonne grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter and walked closer to a corner, not wanting others to talk to her until she was ready to go back to her husband. Sipping on her bubbly, her mind went far but was suddenly brought back when she heard her big brother’s voice over her shoulder.

“Mom and Dad are asking for you.”

“Mike! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.”He began to chuckle.

“Not funny.”

“Okay! Okay!” he threw his hands up. “They still want to see you, though.”

“What the hell do they need now?”

“Why do you assume they want something? Maybe they really want to see you.” Michonne's brows gently lifted as she silently awaited clarification of his nonsense. “Okay… You got me. They want you to talk to Shane about an investment in a project. I'm just giving you a heads-up.”

“They have some nerve. Was this her idea?”

“Well, I have a beautiful and intelligent sister who’s married to one of the wealthiest families in the country and an immodest and audacious mother who’ll make full use of her.”

The siblings stared at each other, breaking out in a sad laugh. They both knew it. Sometimes she wondered if she had been born a son, if she would’ve been forced, controlled and manipulated like her parents were regarding her marriage. She loved her brother, especially when compared to her sister Macie; however, part of her resented him. She fought most her life, trying to gain a fraction of what he had. He lived his life how he wanted for the most part and would inherit their estate when all was said and done. After all, a daughter is like spilt water when she is wed, unless her maternal family needs something, of course. She admittedly would inherit nothing. She didn’t like that; she didn’t like that at all.

“They get dust from me.” She said bluntly, eyes cold and proud.

“Naturally… Look, your mother-in-law and sister-in-law are here. Oh, your brother-in-law is here too, well, other bother-in-law. Saw Richard earlier chatting with a pretty blonde.” Mike peeped her expression, trying to find a reaction on her pretty little face. He saw nothing.

Her sister-in-law, Kendall, wore a long pink open-side Armani halter dress. The neck of the dress was pure silver rhinestones, and her raven hair wrapped tightly in a fishtail braid updo, diamond earrings on her ears and a face beat to the heavens. Kendall Oliva Walsh or K for short was the youngest of the Walsh line and the only girl in a sea of men. She was driven, plain-spoken, and outgoing. She lived life with little regard for anyone, in the best way possible. She started her own publishing company against her father and grandfather’s wishes at the age of twenty-four. Out of all the family members Michonne gained from her marriage, K was her favourite, not counting her kids. Michonne smiled. Kendall is what Andrea wishes she could be.

Her eccentric mother-in-law was no different. Dressed to the fucking nines. Draped open-back Valentino silk gown, her black neck-length hair slicked right back with a side part. She had her face painted with a smokey eye and a ruby red lip, just like her own. Huge white pearls on her ears and neck and marble white red bottom Christian Louboutin heels with a white Saint Laurent clutch under her arm, along with her thirty-year-old French boyfriend. Michonne could smell the money. Some people suggest that affluent individuals don't like to flaunt their wealth, but this couldn't be further from the truth, especially in the case of Eleanor Olivier Grimes-Walsh. Eleanor was a stern woman who had a fearsome and commanding presence. She was harsh with her subordinates and peers, protective of all her children and cold and ruthless with those she deemed her enemies. The deceptively beautiful woman, Eleanor earned her the moniker ‘Iron Woman’. Being a mother of four at fifty-five years old, she looked to be in her early forties at most. She valued her beauty and appearance as much as her intelligence. You could never hope to find a flaw nor would you dare to. Eleanor came from nothing and married into this world, where she fought tooth and nail.

She didn’t care what her Monty wore, as it was a boring, expensive tux like all the other men wore. The most she could say about it was that it was blue. Materialistic, aggressive, pompous, and unpredictable were all words that Michonne thought about the tall glass of concentrated ignorance. While Shane took after his father’s strong masculine features, Monty inherited his mother’s soft beauty, making him a ‘pretty boy’ and a sex-fueled one at that. She stayed away from him for the most part, unless it was a family occasion such as this one. Shawn Montgomery Walsh, better known as “Monty,” was many things and known for many as well but presenting his partners wasn’t one of them.

So, what interested Michonne the most about her ‘good brother’ was the woman at his arm. This was the first and Michonne was confused as to why. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair was dark at the roots and light brown coming out, tied in a messy updo. She wore a white and green sleeveless dress and a white shawl covering her back, a yellow purse, and yellowish-green shoes with accessories to go. If she had to guess she was wearing one single brand, most people wouldn’t do that, not counting celebrities with endorsements. She wore the clothes; she had the man; she was at the event, but even so, she stuck out like a nail. Michonne could immediately tell that the woman wasn’t one of them; whether that was good or bad remained to be seen. One thing was for certain, though, Monty had already brought forth the woman, and so, she’d stay for a while. Oh, how interesting.

Given the arrival of the new party, she hooked her brother’s arm. Her eyes sparkled, understanding what was to come. Though she was trying to hide it, the corners of her mouth were twitching upward. In the corner of her eye, she notices Rick with his date making his way to her husband and father-in-law, same as Eleanor and her other children. Now that the whole family was here, it was time to return to her husband’s side. The event may have started but the show was just starting.

“You’re taking me with you?”

“Don’t you want to see something funny?”

“I’m sure it’s family business going on over there.”

“Probably, but you are technically family too. Just keep your mouth shut and be entertained. Besides, if Eleanor, Rick, and Monty can bring strangers here, I can bring my brother.”

She walked over with her brother by her side and fell in next to her husband. On her way over, John left with his associates.

The news will be delivered soon .

“Come on, Monty! Stop holding out. Who’s the girl?”

“Always in my damn business!”

“What are big brothers for? Come on, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, Magna. Magna Anders.”

“Girlfriend? Well, nice to meet you! Rick, you ain’t off the hook, man! And K, you’re by yourself.”

“Naturally! Why the fuck would I bring a man here? To look pretty?”

“You know she’s a fucking drugged-up slut. No proper man would want her.” Monty smiled at his little sister.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you dead dick prick! You’re probably riddled with syphilis. Syphilis riddled.” Kendall chuckled hard.

“Wicked ranthrough witch bitch…”

“Egotistical, small, dick twink-looking cunt.”

“Closet lesbian, dick tease.”

“I thought we were trading blows. I’d gladly give up men you sexist, inbred-looking, slack-jawed, drooling meatslapper.”

“Oh my God.” Holly and Magna looked at each other awkwardly, shocked at the unexpected turn, while Michonne sipped on her bubbly.

“Both of you stop that shit, right now. We’re in public for crying out loud! No need to get foul. Utterly fucking embarrassing!” Eleanor slapped Monty in the back of his head.

“I’m gonna take a gander and say… Companionship?” Directed the conversation back on track. Michonne looked at Shane with pity.

“Oh please! I’m smarter than that.”

“Can’t be that fucking smart; you’re an English major.” Monty quipped.

“Ignore him. Just answer the question.” Shane didn’t let up.

“A good dick down maybe, but companionship? Fuck no! Hassel Rick!”

“Kendall!”

“Sorry mother…”

“Rick.”

“Oh, this here is Holly. She’s my date for the night.” Michonne stretched out her hand.

“You’re very pretty, Holly. I hope you have a wonderful night.”

“Thank you.”

“She will. You don’t gotta worry about that.” Rick said it with slightly hostile eyes.

Michonne returned his gaze tenfold, not backing down in the slightest. His huge blue eyes gave her a playful expression, as if she were a mouse and he were the cat, like a tiger studying a bunny, until he began laughing softly to himself. His laugh was uncalled for and sounded more like an evil cackle than an expression of amusement. Andrea giggled at the side and Shane rolled his eyes at his brother's behaviour.

“Alright, alright. Stop teasing her.”

“So Holly, Magna, what do you think about our colourful family?”

“Well, like you said, quite colourful. Is it always like this?” They both gazed at her, truly intending to know.

“Oh Holly, stick around and you’ll find out!”

“There ain’t nothing you need to ask her for, Hol.” Rick cut in, making Michonne roll her eyes.

“Michonne! You look gorgeous, by the way!” Kendall attempted to break the tension her brother was stuck on causing.

“So do you, K!” They embraced. She turned to her mother-in-law. “You look absolutely stunning, Eleanor. How do you do it?”

“Ugh! You’re gonna let it go to her head! You know she loves hearing nothing more!”

“I stay stress-free darling. Never let small, egotistical men get the better of me or their whores.” Shane nudged his wife, not wanting her to add fuel to the fire. Michonne, however, did not care.

“I completely get you. What about you, Andrea? Surely you have your own methods?”

“Yes, Andrea, please share.” Kendall joined in.

“I just live my life without thinking of irrelevant people.” Eleanor cut in after Andrea’s words.

“Sure you do! You look… nice. My children’s money sure does wonders.”

“You mean my fiancé’s money.”

“Same thing! My children will indubiously inherit every red cent !” Eleanor waved her hand high with a booming laugh. “Is that not why we’re here? Surely you can swallow those facts, though I know you are as helpless as you are homely, Amanda.”

“What are you talking about?” Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to decipher the cryptic message from the bewitching woman ahead of her.

“It seems the wheel is spinning but the hamster’s dead.” She strutted over to Shane, holding onto his arm on his left while Michonne was on his right. Her tone was playful, like a child. “I know it was kept in the family, but I would’ve expected your fiancé to tell you! Tonight my son will be announced as the CEO of Briton!” Noticing Andrea’s expression, Eleanor feigned a look of shock. “Don’t tell me you actually believed that my pig-headed husband would make your son his heir now? You think, because you got a cheap ring after pushing out two bastards, all your dreams could come true? Let me explain this to you. There are shareholders, investors, and people with whom we have certain relationships. There is still Ronan. Even if John had the idea, my father-in-law would never allow it! What do you have to offer other than your vagina? You don’t even have shares. My children do and I would never allow you or your hellspawns to. You have no power and you can’t intelligently use the only tool God has blessed you with either; that just makes you a cheap whore. One thing I can’t stand a Shameless, Stupid, Slut. They’re a bad combination.”

Michonne could see her brother’s mouth agape from the side, not expecting all he heard. At the same time, John took the front. They all went to take their seats. Though she didn’t tell Shane her thoughts due to not wanting to get the wrong idea, she was befuddled as to why he decided to give Shane control now. John was a man capable of kindness, and his raising Rick was a testament to that; however, he was also one of the cruellest people she knew. He destroyed company after company and family after family to get what he coveted. There was a man who threw himself off a building because he lost everything. It was one of the reasons her parents sacrificed her to the altar; for safety. He was not Ronan’s original successor nor was he his first-born son; he was the fourth child of five boys. His brother Ronan III, eldest, at sixty-six, was currently rotting in a prison cell for the murder of their great patriarch’s third wife, Helena, who also happened to be her father-in-law’s mother. The second son, Patrick, the main choice for the heir, was found drowned in his tub at forty-two. The third son, Cillian, at sixty-three, was held in a mental institution. And the fifth son, Joseph, was born from the same womb as John, never stepping on his brother’s tail and taking what he was given.

All so strange, but hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil... It’s not my business.

What was her business, was the father of her children. John was the possessive type; at only sixty-one, she couldn’t fathom a man as litigious, ruthless, controlling and determined as him giving over his blood work to expand to this point—not right now. Ronan, she could understand; after all, he, his parents, and two older siblings came here as immigrants, and he built everything from nothing for his descendants, but John was not his father. Leaving a legacy may be part of it; all men crave to leave a legacy behind, but there was more of a driving force to his motivations. She suspected more afoot.

“My father, Ronan Lucius Walsh II, came here to America from the old country, Ireland, when he was but 4 years old. My family, like other people of their time, had many difficulties… They bought into the American dream; they could make it here. I’d be lying if I say that upon arrival, everything was fine and dandy. You could imagine the hardships of an immigrant in a foreign land, but they never once gave up on that dream, particularly my father. He basically started Briton on thought, prayer, blood, and sweat and look at it now! Twenty-one years ago, he stood in a similar position as I do now, with the same intentions. ‘Times are changing’. Those were the words my father said to me when he handed me the reigns, and they are what I say to you, Shane. I am proud of you, son. Come on, let them see you.”

Shane squeezed his wife's hand, kissing her temple. He got up and went to his father’s side. The last time she saw him this happy was when he met their little girl.

“All children look up to their parents and I’m no different. As the eldest, growing up, I could only hope that I live up to my father, not for myself but for my family. I am not perfect. Many people helped me reach the point that my old man felt comfortable that I was ready. My father and mother, obviously; my younger siblings; my beautiful children; and my amazing, beautiful wife. Now I get to work for them and our future and build upon what my grandfather and father left to me. I vow to uphold the very same morals and values that has been instilled in me, to protect my family name, to progress my community, and to build upon the legacy that has come before me. That I, Shane Johnathan Walsh, promise.”

Everyone stood up, clapping. Whether it was insincere or not didn’t matter. The old ‘white-eyed wolf’ had already named his successor; there was nothing else to add. What would happen after tonight was a different story. As John gave another speech, Michonne turned to look at Rick, only to find him looking at her. She broke eye contact as quickly as she made it.

Why? Why did he come back… Why now?

After they were done addressing the room, Shane, John and she made the rounds, meeting with business partners, shareholders, board members and so on. She stood by her husband’s side, doing her ‘wifely duties’—smiling when necessary, reminding him of information or names in his ear, charming the opposite party and their spouse—the typical tiring dance.

Why am I even doing this?

When he no longer needed her by his side, she quietly broke away, heading to an area where she could be alone for a while. She sat behind a shadowy section of a wall, in the back room of the lounge, pulled out her phone and began texting her friend Sasha, who should’ve been in attendance, when, all of a sudden, two voices could be heard having a not so ‘small’ argument.

“How dare you! You just announced that Shane would be given the company!”

“It’s still my company.”

“Does that mean you won’t hand over your stocks? You son of a bitch! How could you do this to my boy? Is he just your workhorse while you whip; He’s just a face?”

“When did I say I was giving him full control? CEOs are never in full control. I’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t get what you want.”

“Transfer ownership! Two male rats cannot exist in the same hole!”

“If he wants what’s mine, he’s gonna have to work for it! I can’t just give him what I’ve built… I gave him a chance. If he messes up, there‘s Monty, and even Alex thought he’s young now. Hell, there are many others that’ll fight for it—not Kendell, of course, but you’ll see.”

“He has been working for it! I’ll never get over the embarrassment of being of the same species as you. You are a monster, a demon, a malformation. The fact that you would even bring up that woman’s child but K isn’t an option.”

“You think because he does what the fuck he’s supposed to do—because he’s the firstborn, it’s all that matters. No, Livi, that ain’t how it works. He’s so weak.”

“All parents plan for their children. Can’t you see what you’re doing? You of all people should know!”

“And what do you think I’m doing? Strong men create good times and good times create weak men.” Michonne could hear him smirk at his every word.

“You won’t win!”

“Livi… I always win!”

Eleanor stormed out, slamming the door behind her. John left behind her as easily as he came, leaving her sitting in mellowing in her thoughts! She knew John was cruel but he was basically putting a target on his son’s back, leaving him with no protection! How in God’s name could he put his son on the chopping block just to see if he’d survive?

What the actual fuck! Oh… I can’t breathe!

She got up, nose clenching, making breathing difficult. Stumbling to the balcony for fresh air, her mind a mess with this new information. She did not know how Shane would take it; he craved his father’s approval. Her mouth opened and closed without making a sound. There was no backing out now—not enough and not soon enough to make a difference—that’s where they were at. They were foolish to think things would be this easy. Stakeholders, board of directors...

He was at everyone’s mercy, especially John. A CEO with barely any power. A fucking puppet… He won’t be a John Sigismund!

“Eavesdropping? Really?”

“Rick… What are you talking about?” Her expression was carefully designed and constructed.

“Earlier in the lounge, when Eleanor and John were talking.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I just follow the scent of treachery; that’s how I found you.”

“Why are you here?” He ignored the inquiry.

“By the way, congrats on getting everything you wanted. Gonna be a long ride from here, though.”

“Did you come here to fuck with me?”

“No…”

“Go back.” She had no intention of playing his game.

“I forgot to tell you… You look beautiful…”

Rick cracked a grin and concentrated on her for a long time, his gaze gentle. Michonne could almost call it romantic. While they processed the statement, she leaned back on the balcony railing, her eyes deepening and her head tilted.

“I like the beard.”

“Didn’t have time to shave before I got here. Should I keep it?”

“I still prefer your clean-shaven look.”

“Give it time. You’ll like it all the same.”

“Can I have one?” Her tone softened.

“I thought you stopped smoking.”

“I have.”

Rick peered at her, pulling out his pack and removing one of the cigarettes, which he placed in her lips. He didn't reach for his lighter, instead lowering his head and igniting hers with his, never once breaking eye contact.

7 years, 9 months prior

“Hey…”

“Hi…”

“Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Touché…”

“Rick?”

“Mmm.”

“I wanted to apologise to you… for how I reacted at the wedding. That wasn’t called for.”

“Nah, no need. Should’ve talked to you better than that. I can see how it sounded... I’m not really good with people.”

“Believe it or not, me either.”

“You seem like a lively person... can’t see that.”

“I’ve had two friends all my life; everything I’ve known about the world, I learned from them... My parents didn’t like me out much.” Rick didn’t respond, simply looking at her, waiting for her to go on. Lost in reminiscing, she did. “I met them when I was like six; we went to the same schools… Getting married, I realised… I don’t know so much. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, go on.” She looked at him with sparking eyes. She didn’t understand why he, of all people, would even want to hear her nonsense.

“There’s nothing particularly about me that stands out. I thought playing the piano and violin, painting, speaking multiple languages, and having the best grades made me great, and that everyone saw it like that too. I mean, it made my parents happy, my grandparents too… If I did well, my sister would be mad because everyone would praise me. I like seeing her mad; does that make me a bad person?”

“No, but I ain’t exactly the best person to judge so…” Michonne chuckled at his words.

He really is a socially awkward guy… What a weird response!

“You know… marriage is not what I imagine, at all…”

“Hmm?”

“Your brother doesn’t treat me badly or anything; I just thought…”

“Not some fairytale, huh?”

“No… I feel like an outsider here, with your family... in my home.”

“You smoke?

“Huh? Uh—”

Rick held out a cigarette; she took it and lit it for her. Unacquainted with the habit, her throat burned from the smoke, and she began coughing vigorously. She took it out of her mouth, handing it back to the owner. Without realising it, he spat out a globe of saliva. His eyes brimmed with tears of mirth, and the smile tugging his lips broke into a grin.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” Her eyes blinked excessively, and her cheeks burned as she hit him with an accusing glare.

“You don’t gotta do things you aren’t comfortable with, you know. You’re your own damn person, with your own damn feelings. If you don’t like something, say it! Got something on your mind? Voice it! Don’t be a people pleaser; don’t want people walking all over you, right?”

“What?”

“And if they gotta problem with boundaries, fuck ‘em. Stay away from folks like that. Live however the hell you want. Not for your parents, not for Shane; just you.”

She studied him with unwavering attention, and he stared back at her with a quizzical brow, left hand in his pants pocket still smoking. He was much kinder than she gave him credit for. And he was different from the others. Standing here, she felt at ease. It was sparingly easier to talk to him.

Present

“Why did you come back?” Her voice broke. “You said you wanted nothing to do with this family—with the Walsh's... So why?”

“You know… On my way back, I thought, ‘What would I do when I saw your face again?’ Would I choke the life out you? Maybe I’d shoot you dead for all the pain you caused me, for your lies... Looking at you now... so many plans, and yet.. nothing. Even after all this time, I—”

A tear fell from her eye. She bent her head, not daring to meet his gaze, all while he paced back to her. His face was neutral but his eyes held a crazed look. He lifted her chin with his finger and wiped the tear that trickled down her face, tilting his head to the side.

“I would say that you came back because of Lori’s death, but that was three months ago. You didn’t show up for the mother of your child, then, but Shane is taking over and here you are…”

“And what if I said Lori was part of it?”

“So you admit there are other reasons.”

“I admit that you’re gonna be crying soon. John made it so.”

“How long are you going to be here?”

“Afraid?” He nibbled her ear and for a second, her body began to fall into old habit. “Ain’t gonna push me away?” His hand began travelling up her dress. “Ain’t afraid my brother might see?”

“Where is your date? She seems sweet, all draped in white.” Her whispered question stopped him dead in his tracks. He backed off, licking his lips as his blue pools gaped at her.

“Doing something for me.”

“Doing what?"

“Hmm… I wonder.”

“Doing what?” She stepped towards him. “Rick!”

“I expect a visit from you soon. I’ll text my number.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Shane. Specifically, the children…”

“Is this a threat?”

“No, darling… But you need an offer from me. I don’t wanna be an enemy to you of all people.”

“Says the man who wanted to strangle me on sight. Your words, not mine.”

“I still do. Ain’t that something?”

“And why exactly would you be an enemy?”

“You mean other than the obvious? Hmm, you’re gonna find out… in due time. I promise you that… Carl misses his aunt.”

“Tell Carl that—”

Her voice was cut by a blood-curdling scream overhead, all the way to the bottom floor. A chill of fear caused them both to sprint back to the balcony. Their jaws fell, their eyes widening in surprise, as if a charge of lightning rushed through their veins, temporarily paralysing them. It was Holly. She was laid out deathly still, blood pouring from her skull and nose, eyes stood unblinking. Seeing the grotesque scene, Michonne’s mind ran straight to Lori as she covered her mouth in pure shock and horror.

…

Keynotes-

Empress Nara originally a noble-consort named Xian, was the step-empress of the Qianlong Emperor who was elevated to that rank after Empress Xiaoxianchun ( She was apparently really sweet and the love of the emperor’s life!) died. She served for many years. During the 30th year of Qianlong's reign, the Step Empress accompanied the emperor on a tour of Southern China. As the group arrived at Hangzhou, the step-empress cut her hair which you weren't supposed to do unless in mourning of the emperor and empress-dowager, so she was basically wishing them dead and wanted the marriage to be done. This was a grave crime but she was so fed up that she said fuck it!

John Sigismund Zápolya, Ottoman puppet king of Hungary contested Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand I of Hapsburg's claim to the throne. Boring man, but not so boring life! Was even exiled and made a return. Died childless though.

Would have made a proper note about the Qianlong Emperor. But that man had too many women and too much shit going on. He was good at his job but a shit husband hence the haircutting, but most emperors are terrible Husbands. Read a biography lol.

White eyed wolf . The expressions 白眼狼 (bái yǎn láng) – literally “white eyed wolf” and 狼心狗肺 (láng xīn gǒu fèi) – literally “heart of a wolf and lungs of a dog” are both used to describe a particularly cold-hearted, cruel person.

Prologue

Chapter-2

#richonne fandom #michonne grimes #alternate universe #richonne #richonne fic #richonne fanfiction #rick x michonne #Rick Grimes #Michonne

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wowowwild · 4 months

Text

Klavier gets a vague text from Apollo on his day off asking him to meet in the park. Whatever could be the reason?

Klavier woke up to a day like any other. It was a Saturday, so he wouldn't have to go to work, or do much of anything really. He would lounge around with his brother's dog, he hadn't even known his brother had a dog before... but he did and now that dog was technically Klavier's dog. Vongole was sweet and friendly, and Klavier had always been a dog person, and though it had been 6 months already, it would likely be a little longer before he could think of her as his own dog. It still sometimes felt like he was just dog sitting and his brother would come back any day. He could tell Vongole felt the same. But Kristoph wasn't coming back. He was going to continue sitting in a cell on death row until the state appointed reaper came to harvest what was left of his brother's soul.

An hour or so into lounging, Klavier received a text. Herr Forehead! Now there was someone who could always brighten Klavier's day. His courtroom rival always had such interesting reactions and expressions, it was hard not to enjoy his presences. And of course his genuineness and intensity were hard to ignore. Plus they sought the same thing in the courtroom, even if they had basically nothing in common outside of it... Right, the text.

HF: Are you doing anything today?

That was unexpected. Usually it was Klavier trying to see the attorney outside of work. And he had yet to be successful.

KG: Is this your way of asking me out on a date? ;)

The response was almost immediate.

HF: NO!!!

Klavier chuckled. He could imagine the chords of steel and how Apollo would blush in response.

HF: I wouldn't ask someone out over text, that's just tacky. HF: I was just wondering.

A multi-texter then. Klavier filed that knowledge away in the folder of absolutely useless information he knew about people. If only his brain would use that space to remember the things he actually needed to.

KG: Did you need something? I am always available for you, Schatzi.

Was he maybe laying it on a little thick? Sure. But he was Klavier Gavin, after all.

HF: I don't NEED anything. Why are you being so weird?

… That wasn't the response he expected. He had thought that his text was totally in character- Ah, maybe that was it. Herr Forehead had never been fond of his 'character', and he had a habit of seeing right through it, though he was pretty sure it had something to do with the intense staring, so he wasn't sure how that had worked over text.

KG: I am just trying to ask what exactly you are asking. HF: I asked if you're doing anything today, but I'm guessing you're not since you love telling people all about your plans and all you've done so far is dodge the question. Meet me at People Park. KG: That's a bold assumption.

He waited a minute, but Apollo didn't respond again.

KG: You didn't even tell me what time.

Again, Klavier did not get a response. He groaned.

KG: Can I bring Vongole? HF: Sure. KG: Oh, so that you'll respond to.

You know, Klavier was getting a little annoyed by this point. Not only was Forehead being mysterious and quite frankly rude, Klavier was going to have to go incognito which meant dressing plainly, and Apollo had never seen him dress this way. It was a tragedy, honestly. He should have expected it though, since when he woke up this morning his coffee machine had broken. Maybe he could still wear something cute.

Looking through his clothes, Klavier found a lavender sweater that used to be his mother's and some black ripped skinny jeans Daryan had made him buy. He hadn't worn either in ages, but they would do nicely. Despite being half way through April, it was still a bit chilly. It was... difficult to put the pants on, not because they didn't fit, but because he could remember so vividly the day they had been bought. A lot had changed since then. Too much. Too little. The sweater was a comfort, though. If his mother were there, she would know just what to say, just what to do. But she wasn't, so Klavier just finished getting ready and called for Vongole. All he had to do was say 'park' and she was ready to go.

When he arrived at People Park, he put his 'please don't recognize me' baseball cap on. He had elected to leave his hair down and free in hopes that it would further distance himself from his public persona. It wasn't hard to find Apollo, his red sweatshirt immediately drawing Klavier's eye. He was sitting on a bench, watching the birds, or at least looking in the sky in their direction. It was always hard for Klavier to tell what Apollo was thinking.

“Herr Forehead!”

Apollo turned to look at him, staring again, appraising.

“Uh, hiya. You're, umm... Hi.” “Ja, hallo.” “Right. Oh!” Vongole jumped up onto the bench next to him. “Well hello there, princess. It's been a while, hasn't it.”

Apollo Justice just called his dog 'princess'. That was adorable. But... they'd met before? How... interesting, that Kristoph had introduced Apollo to his dog, but never spoke about his brother even once. Whatever. It didn't matter now.

“Prosecutor Gavin?” “Hmm?” “Are you ok?” His face must have been showing his thoughts. Unfortunately Herr Forehead had always been good at reading him. “Ja, I'm fine. But call me Klavier, bitte. This is hardly the courtroom.” “Oh, um... ok. Klavier.”

Apollo said his name like it was a piece of testimony he wasn't sure about. Klavier didn't know how to feel about that.

“W-well, then you have to call me Apollo!” Apollo suddenly burst out. “No more Forehead business.” Klavier blinked, paused, and chuckled. “Of course. Apollo, then.”

Apollo's cheeks flushed a bit, but Klavier couldn't tell what the source was. Perhaps embarrassment at his outburst? It's not like Klavier minded. It was all part of that unique Forehead charm. Apollo.

“So what did you have planned now that you've drawn me out here? Nothing nefarious, I hope.” “Wh- No! Why would you even ask that,” Apollo huffed. Klavier was about to apologize, but Apollo continued, “I just um... I dunno.” “Now see, the thing is, I don't think that's true. I think you just don't want to tell me.”

Apollo looked at him and squinted his eyes, possibly trying to guess what Klavier had figured out, which was genuinely nothing. Apollo was a mystery to him still, Klavier just knew that he didn't do things without reason, or maybe reason wasn't quite correct, considering the blunders he frequently made in court. No, intent was more like it. Apollo had some intent inviting him out.

“You know, I think I've got you all figured out,” Klavier lied. He knew Apollo would know. “You've finally succumbed to my charms and were hoping to make a confession in the place that we first met. How romantic!” Apollo glared at him. “Get real, Gavin.” “Then perhaps the defence has an alternate theory?” “... Nope.”

Well that was rude. Now Klavier had a lot of traits, some good, some... less good, but quite possibly the most intense was that Klavier Gavin was a nosy bitch and he needed to know! Apollo had never invited him anywhere before, especially not like this. And here he was just sitting on a park bench petting Klavier's dog and giving her pet names like they hung out all the time! Sure, he had felt a sort of connection with the other man during their court battles, and he hoped that Apollo had felt it too, but they weren't close by any stretch of the word. In fact he had been pretty certain up until that text that Apollo wasn't very fond of him at all.

“You're thinking too much. Do you want to feed the ducks?” “I- Hä?” “They're really friendly, though now that I think about it, Vongole might chase them. We could walk around the pond, though. Maybe she's mellowed out since then.” Vongole certainly had not mellowed out, or if she had, she must have been a terror before, but Klavier thought that maybe if he said yes he might get to find out what he wanted to know. “Ja, a walk sounds nice.” “Cool.”

Vongole did try to chase the ducks, but funnily enough it was Apollo who got her to calm down.

“You're very good with her.” “Ah, um...” Apollo winced and looked to the side. “If I mimic him well enough she listens. She always behaved for him, but I think someone taught her to do whatever she wanted when he wasn't there.” “Ah...” What else could he say? He had to imagine it wasn't a fun thing for Apollo to do. “Was... was he a good mentor?” “The best,” Apollo replied without hesitation. “Was he a good brother?” “Ja... Ja, the best.” “Too bad he's a piece of shit.”

Klavier froze. Apollo was always a little out of pocket, but, well, how was anyone supposed to respond to that. Once Klavier found his wits he looked to Apollo who was similarly frozen in place. Vongole had sat down on the trail between them looking very pleased with herself. And Klavier laughed. He laughed hard and with his whole body. It felt like years since he had laughed so hard, though really it might have been. By the time he was done he was crouched down and wheezing, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Ja, too bad. Mein arschgeige Bruder had to go and lie and cheat and kill and my best friend followed suit. Mein Gott they are assholes.” Well Apollo looked worried now, but Klavier felt great. “You know, when I was little he used to sing me back to sleep when I had a nightmare, and if it was a bad one he would let me sleep in his bed. And whenever I would get scraped up doing something stupid, which believe it or not, happened often,” he heard Apollo snort at that, “he would bandage me up and scold me for being so reckless. No matter how many times I did, or how stupid the stunt he would still help me. Even just a few years ago I was worried about him so I asked him to help me with a cut I got and he still did. I'm not certain when exactly it started, but I had noticed by the time I turned 16 that he was more closed off, more paranoid. I tried my best, and sometimes I still feel like I should have tried harder, but how could I have known? And why would he ever have talked to me about it? I wasn't just a kid, I was a kid he raised. He needed someone else and there was no one. It always was just us against the world. Of course I made friends, whatever good that did me, but he never did. I'm glad he had Vongole. You know after all of the times I had asked for one as a kid, that bastard finally went and got a dog as soon as I left. He was right not to let me have one, but still. And every year for my birthday-” Klavier froze. His birthday. He looked up to Apollo who nodded with a sad smile. “Every year for my birthday which is today, he would bake me Oma's topfentorte,” Klavier spoke slowly. “He wasn't perfect, but he was my brother. Still is, I guess.”

Klavier got the distinct feeling that if Apollo didn't stop him, he would just keep going until he'd spilled his guts all over the path. He also had a feeling that Apollo wouldn't stop him.

“And then there was Daryan. Whenever Kristoph and I fought, Daryan was always in my corner. And, I mean, Daryan was an asshole in the first place, but he was my asshole. My best friend. And I would have done just about anything for him. And I still have no idea why he did it, because he won't tell me, and if he did it for a good reason, I don't see why he wouldn't. I also don't see why he would have gotten a child involved. The only thing he will tell me is how pissed he is that I didn't help him get out of it, as if that's something anyone who knows me would ever think I'd do. Maybe, maybe, if it had just been the smuggling and his intentions were good, but how could he ever think I would help a murderer?”

Tears were welling in his eyes again, so he tilted his head up in an effort to not let them fall. It was bad enough he had just dumped all of this on Apollo, someone he couldn't even really be considered friends with, he didn't want to start crying in front of him, too.

“You don't have to do that.”

Klavier looked at Apollo in confusion.

“I mean, obviously if it makes you uncomfortable, then you can do whatever, I mean you can anyway, but there's no one else here. It's just me. And Vongole, but I don't think that's a problem for you. So... you can cry if you need to. It fucking sucks what they put you through. And it's not fair because you're so good. And I mean no one should have to go through that, but especially you. You're so kind and determined and strong. I don't like that they've made you second guess yourself, and I don't like that they've damaged your sense of security. You deserve good things. If you can't have them... Um, but, yeah. There are still people who care about you, you know?” “I... I'm beginning to see that.” “Yeah, um, actually, if you wanted, Trucy kind of prepared this whole thing back at the Agency, she's not going to be upset if you're not feeling up to it, but she invited a couple of people. She's going to call me when it's all ready.” “Ah, I'm... You all are too kind.” “It's nothing, really. They're like that with everyone.” “And you? I seem to recall you being rather prickly with most people.” “I'm not prickly, people are just annoying...” Apollo grumbled. Klavier laughed. “And yet you feel for them all the same.”

Apollo huffed. They stood in silence, watching the ducks, Vongole watching a little more intently than the humans beside her.

“So what about you?” “Me?” “I've just poured my heart out to you, do you have anything to get off your chest?” “... Nope. I'm fine.” “Really,” Klavier gave him his best judgemental look. “Yep.” “So there's absolutely nothing you would benefit from sharing?” “Let's put it this way, the only reason anyone knows my birthday is because they needed a birth certificate to hire me and the only reason anyone knows my favorite color is because I wear it everyday. I am content to live out my days with my closest companion being my cat.” “... You have a cat?” “... Maybe...” “That's it, I have a new goal in life.” “Oh, goody,” Apollo deadpanned. “I'm going to figure you out.” “Good luck with that.” “Thank you, I will take it.” “Wait, no, I didn't actually mean-” “It's too late. I have it now.” “Well bad luck then! Bad luck!” “No, I think you can keep that one.” “No! Take the bad luck! You already have the good luck so it will just balance out!” “I would argue that in general I have exceedingly bad luck.” “... Ok, you can keep the good luck, but use it on a case or something.” “The case of Apollo Justice.” “No, a different one.” “Nuh-uh, sorry.” “Did you just 'nuh-uh' me?” “What're you gonna do about it, Forehead?” Klavier grinned Apollo grinned right back at him. “Hey! I'll show you what I'm gonna do, Gavin-”

They were cut off by Guitar's Serenade playing out. That was probably for the best since Vongole was latching on to their excitement, and she was a menace while excited.

“Oh, that's Trucy.” He answered the phone, which looked absolutely ancient in Klavier’s opinion. A flip phone? Really? “Hey, Truce... Woah, calm down I already told him... Why wouldn't I? Not everyone likes surprises... I'll ask him then! Do you like surprises?” Oh, that one was for him. “Ah, sometimes. In this case I'm glad you told me, though.” “Did you hear that? … No, how do I put it on speaker? … Ok, well he said he was glad I told him... Well, yeah- Actually, wait, he never gave me an answer. Do you want to go? To the thing Trucy did- I know it's called a party,” he grumbled the last bit into his phone. “Ja. I think that will be nice.” “He said yes... No, I'm not going to tell him that, tell him yourself when we get there... Ack! I'm hanging up now, bye!” “Umm...” “Ok, let's go. She'll have my head if we take too long.” “What was that last bit about?” “Absolutely nothing.” “Fine, fine. I'll just ask Fraulein Magician when we get there.” “You can ask.” “You don't think I'll get an answer?” “Nope.” “I bet I can.” “I bet you can't.” “You're on.”

Apollo sighed and shook his head, a small smile still gracing his features.

“Oh, before that...” “Yeah?” Apollo's full attention was right back on him, not that Klavier was sure it had ever left. “If you ever need to have a breakdown with someone other than your cat... I don't believe in transactional care, but it would make us even.” Klavier flicked his bangs. “And I wouldn't mind.” “... Yeah. Ok.”

Klavier still had the feeling that if at all possible, Apollo would never follow through, but he had done all he could to make it an option.

“So what kind of cake did they get me?” “How am I supposed to know? My job was to get you there and that's it.” Klavier chuckled. “They wouldn't tell you, would they.” “'Wouldn't you like to know, Apollo?'” Apollo did his best Trucy impression if Trucy was also incredibly annoyed by the things she was saying.

Klavier laughed. He wasn't sure exactly how Apollo felt, but as far as he was concerned, Klavier had walked into that park lonely and out with a friend.

#ace's fic #ace attorney #apollo justice #klavier gavin #i'm going to tag it bc it can be read this way ->#klapollo #vongole #i hope everything came across how i wanted it to. sometimes i think i leave a little too much up to interpretation.#anyway i hope y'all enjoy my bday gift from me to me

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spideyanakin · 2 years

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hihi can I request a angsty-fluff fic with Eddie?

Cheerleader!popular!reader and Eddie are friends, he always makes her laugh and smile 24/7 , and Eddie is inlove with her (let’s say since first year of high school) when he was about to confess his feelings for her, he saw her talking to a jock and that made him realize he wasn’t enough for her so he backed off

Reader noticed this, and confronted him. And he confessed his feelings about her and with something along the lines “your a queen, and I’m just your joker.” Then obv reader says she also likes him and they date :D

Let me be your Harley (archived version)

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader + popular!reader

Author's note - for the sake of this fic let's pretend Harley Quinn appeared earlier in the DC universe :)

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Eddie Munson masterlist 🌻

Find the rewritten version here

Eddie Munson never thought he could have a friend like you.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined being best friends with the prettiest girl in school, let alone someone who also happens to be a cheerleader.

But there he was, on a random Tuesday evening, a joint dancing back and forth between his fingers and yours, babbling about lord of the rings.

"What do you mean Legolas is an asshole?" You chuckled as you took a new puff, Eddie watching as your cheeks hallowed and you half exhaled by your nose before making the rest of the smoke come out of your mouth, stealing a new drag before handing it to Eddie.

"You don't remember that moment in the two towers where he legit let Aragorn bend down to listen to the earth and struggle and stuff and waited for him to come to the conclusion that indeed a whole ass army was headed towards them, and Legolas was just 'oh yeah I can see them from here, I've known about them for ages."

"Oh yeah, I remember" You laughed. "But he's not an asshole for this. Legolas is one of my favorite characters" you frowned a little.

"He's a good character, but elves can be assholes in general in lord of the rings"

"Don't shit on the elves, Munson" You hit his chest with the back of your hand, a new fit of laughter escaping you both.

At this moment Eddie couldn't help but stare at you. You had this giddy high smile on your lips and shiny eyes. Your hair was loose and you were still in your cheer uniform. You made eye contact and Eddie thought he was going to pass out.

His heart leaped in his chest and somehow he knew, he knew that he couldn't keep his feelings to himself for much longer.

He had already been head over heels for you since the first time he saw you in that high school cafeteria. He knew he would die for you the second you exchanged words for the first time and he had struggled to let the words 'thanks' and 'bye' in the same sentence, causing him to mumble something in between.

He had to pinch himself every day since the moment Mrs. Smith had paired the two of you for a school project and you had decided Eddie was a worthy friend.

He didn't even know how in the world you had anything in common in the first place.

But you always took him by surprise. He didn't even think it was possible for someone like you to feel so familiar with what was in his room the first time you stepped in it. And he certainly didn't expect you to look at all his tape collection with wide eyes and watch as you excitedly pointed to almost all of them adding an 'oh my god you listen to that too?', or 'this is one of my favorites!' and he'd watch as you'd ask permission to put said tape in his player and turn up the volume.

Needless to say, Eddie knew you had been sent from heaven right this moment.

Or maybe you were sent from hell, destined to torment him. For him to fall helplessly in love with you just to never get a chance.

But you liked him back right?

right?

"God, I wish I could join hellfire." You blinked and turned to him. "I wish I could play an elf too. I have so many ideas for my character..."

"I wish you could too, princess"

And that marked the end of a perfect evening with you.

You would go back to your house, take a shower and wash your uniform in poor attempt to hide that you had been smoking. You would make yourself something to eat and do your homework, reminiscing of how off being in the cheer squad started to feel.

Your friends felt faker and faker by the second, dancing in a green skirt and pom poms didn't feel right anymore, it didn't feel like you.

That morning, Eddie came to school with his intention set. A poorly written speech of what he wanted to tell you crumpled in his jacket pocket.

He felt nervous ever since he woke up with the thought that this was the day. This was it. He would ask you on a date today, and he would jump into the potential abyss of ruining your perfect friendship or finally being able to call you his.

It took him some serious pep talk and maybe even a bit of weed for courage. But he was determined to meet with you in the woods like you usually did if you wanted to talk during school hours. He would sit you down and offer you half of his Twix bar 'how romantic' he thought, and once a comfortable silence had fallen between you, he would try and see if his mouth would let him let the words out.

He would try to tell you how wonderful you made him feel, or every little detail about you that made him go crazy. Explain to you how his heart did flips and butterflies flew into his stomach when he was with you. He would ask you out, maybe even let it slip out that Hellfire needed a queen.

But exactly when he was heading to your locker to slip in the small 'meet me in the woods at lunch' note: he saw you.

His face fell.

Your hair was tied with a green ribbon, a bright smile plastered on your face as you spoke with Chad.

He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose as his world began to crumble around him.

He was the real-life version of a Ken doll. Perfect brown hair that would make Steve jealous if he was still in school, a pearly white grin that made Eddie's stomach twist, and crystal blue eyes.

He was everything Eddie wasn't. He was a jock, probably had perfect grades, money, and everything else Eddie hadn't. Everything he lacked that you deserved in someone.

The way you smiled as your conversation went on was enough for him to back away and throw the poor little piece of paper in the trash. He tried to burn out of his mind the image of him leaning in towards you, his arm leaning on the wall beside you, blatantly flirting with you.

He walked in the opposite direction, realizing that he didn't deserve you. You were far too high in the Hawkins High food chain to even consider dating a guy like him. How could he have been so stupid?

But you made him high on love. High on the hope that you could be an item. So lost in his love for you that he was brought back to reality the harsh way.

You needed someone like Chad. Someone with a good reputation and who don't take rides in the back of police cars on regular basis.

You might have similar taste in music and common interests, but that was about it. The only reason you were even friends with Eddie in the first place was because of your similar tastes in music, but your social circles weren't compatible. He felt like a fool to even think he could have a chance.

He felt enough like a fool, he didn't need the pain in his heart to become worst by having you around, even if the look in your eyes every time he canceled your plans only stung worst.

Three weeks into his poor cover-ups and attempts to push you away and he only felt miserable. No amount of Ozzy or Dio was enough to forget the pain. No amount of times he would attempt to drown himself in the new Metallica album as he tried to learn the chords on his guitar could attempt to heal the you shaped hole in his heart.

He watched from the far end of the hellfire table. You looked perfect as always, but what he hadn't realized was that something was off. You had trouble eating and didn't find sleep easily lately. The thoughts of what you could have potentially done wrong for Eddie to act so distant with you munching at your stomach.

But obviously, he didn't see it. He couldn't see it. You would hide behind your perfect cheer uniform and constant fake smiles.

But even if someone could see the pain hidden behind these smiles, Eddie would refuse to believe he had been the cause. In his mind, he was simply a useless passing villager in your game of life. He thought of himself to be like one of the background characters he invented for his campaigns.

Boy if only he knew how wrong he was...

On the second day of the third week, you decided you had enough.

If Eddie was going to ignore you, you at least needed a reason. Something to justify the pang in your heart each time your eyes landed on him.

So you held your books a little tighter in your hand, your pink nails gripping them tighter as you made your way out of the cafeteria. You watched from a distance as Eddie spoke with one of his fellow hellfire member while walking towards his locker.

The bell rang and as usual, Eddie didn't move. He took his time, stuffing his drug-filled lunch box into his locker before trying to sort out through the mess of stray paper and notes he might need for the afternoon.

You closed your own locker, telling your friend that you needed to do something before class so she'd leave you alone.

The hallway fell empty apart from Eddie who hadn't noticed your presence. If he hadn't ignored you, maybe you would have smiled at the way he was figuring out what his own handwriting was saying. You would have cracked a joke about how he was muttering to himself. Something about this not being the note he was searching for before tucking it back behind the mass of unorganized notebooks.

Eddie didn't expect to see your face when he closed his locker. You had made your way to him right as he pocketed the scribbling he had done for history and tucked his 4 colored pen behind his ear.

"You're ignoring me" You stated.

He was staring right at you with his big brown eyes, mouth half opened.

God, he wanted to run away. You being so close to him while he was trying to bury his feelings felt intoxicating.

"No I haven't"

"Yes, you have." He watched as your face fell a little, more pieces of his heart shattering in the process. "Have I done something wrong?" The way you frowned was overwhelming. "I promise I didn't mean to."

He had to close his eyes to stop himself from wanting to rip his hair out or cry.

You were blaming yourself, for something that was all him.

"Y/n, of course not- you could never do anything wrong-"

"Then why are you ignoring me" Your tone might have seemed firm but he could tell the way your voice wavered.

You were hurt.

And it was all his fault.

He sighed and managed to meet your eyes again.

"Because I'm not good enough for you Y/n." You blinked.

"What?"

"I'm not good enough for you!" He lifted his voice a bit. "Y/n- you're- you're perfect. It's as if god had taken everything that's just perfect and made you- and then there's me, who is everything but perfect. A freak who was apparently meant to fall for someone he cannot have." He rambled. "Because Y/n" He looked into your eyes, a look so intense it almost gave you chills. "You're a queen, and I’m just your joker. And The Joker cannot fall in love with the queen of Gotham, she deserves Batman, the handsome Bruce Wayne. Not the madman."

You swallowed as you realized this was a love confession. Eddie was rambling on about how he reciprocated your feelings but thought you could never. How low he was talking about himself made your heart ache and anger bubble at the pit of your stomach for all those bullies at Hawkins high. Because your Eddie deserved the world, and he most definitely deserved someone like you. He even deserved the entire of Gotham to be at his feet.

"Harley Quinn is his queen." You took a step closer to him. "Her and the Joker made a pretty good pair the last time I checked."

Eddie felt the air pull out of his lungs as you spoke, his brain attempting to comprehend.

"What do you mean?" He breathed out, watching you get even closer to him.

"Let me be your Harley." You brushed his hand, making goosebumps travel up his arm. His fingers slowly interlaced with yours, eyes getting glossy. "I might be the Queen of Gotham, but I'm far from wanting a Batman."

Before he could blink again, you were already on your tip toes leaning in for a kiss. You were already lowering yourself back to your normal height before Eddie registered what happened.

But when he did, his lips were on yours again - chasing for the kiss he had been dying to steal from you.

Eddie thought his brain was overheating. Not even 10 minutes ago he thought every chance he had with you had been long gone, sunk deep into lovers lake with the other broken romances and unrequited loves.

But there he was, kissing the girl of his dreams in the middle of a school hallway.

"So, I'm really perfect?" You smirked as you pulled away from the kiss just for Eddie to chase your lips again, muttering 'Yes' in between kisses.

Eddie finally pulled away when the information had fully registered

"How in the world do you like me back?" He blinked in disbelief.

"Because you're perfect?" He shook his head no. "your perfect for me Eddie." you leaned in again. "Even if you don't believe it- you are"

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a-m-pyra · 2 months

Text

First Burn: Ch1 Madame Seymour's Home for Lost Youth (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

Madame Seymour was a short, curvy woman before her forties, whose head was adorned with high pinned, fiery red hair. She was dressed in red and bejeweled with silver rings, necklace, bracelets and earrings.

She greeted them at the door. Her arms were crossed in front of her, she stood straight, with a black trench coat draped over her shoulders. Because even though the sun had been shining over London since the morning — which, as he learned, wasn't so obvious — there was still blowing a cool autumn wind.

He thought that she looked like Sophia in some way — in some way, because she was sort of the opposite. It was as if someone had changed her color palette — Sophia in light blue, Madame Seymour in dark red. But because of the aura radiating from her, he almost felt as if it was Sophia herself, standing and waiting for him to approach her.

She smiled at him gently and warmly. He noticed the dimple in her left cheek, and as he and Giangio moved even closer to shake hands with her, he noticed the freckles galore — which were everywhere he could see, standing out strongly on her cheeks, nose, and shoulders as soon as she took off her of them a coat inside.

He was immediately struck by the noise that was coming from the right. Ten children, a teenager who was probably not yet eighteen, and a young woman were discussing at the table as they ate breakfast together.

He looked down at his feet, stopping for a moment. Under his feet, he saw an ornate scorpion that decorated the floor. The almost black wood against the deep brown background looked as if it had been burnt.

He felt someone's eyes on him. He glanced furtively toward the dining room, noticing the young woman glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He could get a better look at her — her hair was as dark as his and resembled a sheet of spilled ink in its smoothness and shine, that she was dressed in a dress whose cornflower blue color complimented her beauty, and that her eyes were so intensely green that they could easily compete with malachite or emeralds. She was petting a large dog that seemed to be staring at her like a picture.

He heard Giangio clear his throat, bringing him back to earth and reminding him to follow them. This is what happened; They went up to the second floor, where Mrs. Seymour's office was located. It was cozy, warm, even more so than the rest of the building. A comfortable sofa, armchairs and a chaise longue, plus soft pillows, a lot of different textures and materials, a warm shade of wood, healthy, green plants and pictures on the walls intertwined with children's cards — on the occasion of Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, birthdays, holidays and such which she received without much opportunity.

These children seemed to idolize her, judging by the inscriptions on each of the cards and their number.

Mrs. Seymour sat down at the desk, with him and Giangio right in front of her.

While Giangio and Seymour were talking, he didn't dare to look at her. Instead, he looked at the legion's arm. Venigni stayed up at night with Eugénie especially to make it for him. Now it was not supposed to be used for defense, but for normal functioning. He could install it under his clothes without worrying that the material would interfere with its functionality, and what's more, it no longer looked like a typical mechanical part of his body — they made sure that he didn't have to expose himself to strange looks from the English, making his the new arm looked like a human hand.

He felt strange without a weapon. Strange, as if he was no longer himself. Just knowing that he didn't have to worry about fighting anymore was a strange concept to him.

After all, he had been fighting ever since Sophia had breathed life into him.

“I haven't had the chance to work with the puppet yet, but I will do everything I can to help him.” He heard it and then lifted his head slightly to look at her.

“I'm not a typical puppet,” he whispered, and Mrs. Seymour looked at him and smiled softly.

“It's true,” she admitted. “Maybe you would like to tell me what you would like me to address you, hmm?” She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them

He was never asked about it. His father called him simply Son , Sophia Clever one , Gemini Pal , Venigni Compagno , the people he met along the way, Geppetto's Puppet .

No one asked him his name or what he would like to be called. But now the question made him think that perhaps they were all trying to dehumanize him.

Still, all these puppets had names. Pulcinella, Pollendina, Gemini, Romeo, all the puppets he fought. But he had none.

He clenched his left hand and then relaxed it, ignoring the strange cold and tightness in his chest as he thought about his name. He stole a glance at the extinguished Gemini lamp at his side, resisting the urge to grab the legion's arm and rub it nervously.

“Pinocchio.” He lowered his head again. “Though I'd rather just P.”

Her smile widened.

“It's very nice to meet you, P.”

P noticed that she leaned towards him. Her face was radiant with a sincere smile, concern and joy. He felt himself smile slightly.

Giangio and Mrs. Seymour stood up. He felt that Gemini's lamp was shaking just like he wanted to say something, but he himself realized that he should get up and follow them. They went down to the first floor and Mrs. Seymour opened the door at the end of the corridor, allowing him to enter.

His own room.

It was as cozy as Mrs. Seymour's office. It had a spacious wardrobe, a large desk, a comfortable-looking bed with plenty of pillows and a thick eiderdown. What he liked most was the large bookcase, which still had plenty of space for his own books.

The interior was not much different from the hotel in Krat, and this was probably not so common when it came to orphanages and such centers.

Mrs. Seymour truly made sure that not only her knowledge and skills improved the condition of her patients, but also the environment. So that they can really feel at home and recover in truly comfortable conditions.

P put his suitcase next to the bed and sat on it, bouncing on the pleasantly soft mattress with fascination. Then he touched one of the furry pillows, feeling like he was burying his fingers in Spring's fur.

“I like it,” he announced, and Seymour giggled.

“Okay then, you'll probably want to see Mr. Paracelsus off.”

He nodded and the three of them went downstairs. Giangio adjusted his top hat and patted P on the shoulder, then walked towards the carriage, completely speechless. He drove away, and P followed the carriage with his eyes.

“Would you like to join us for breakfast, P?”

He was about to unpack his things.

Contrary to what he expected, there weren't many of them. A few sets of clothes and some vinyl records were all he could take. He didn't need weapons, and he didn't have any trivia to pack in his suitcase.

He figured he'd do that later, when he had some free time, and he nodded as he followed Mrs. Seymour into the dining room, where everyone was still sitting with warm tea and leftovers.

Mrs. Seymour grabbed him lightly by the shoulders and said, “My dears, please meet P, he will be staying with us for a while.”

The monstrously large dog barked as if happily, and after a while there were whispers from the girls. P looked at Mrs. Seymour, and she laughed and scolded them playfully.

“P, please meet Otto,” She pointed to the red-haired teenager, who smiled broadly as he held a cup in his hands, “Charlie, Dodo, Diggie, Toby,” She approached the four boys one by one, the blond, the one with glasses, the boy with curly, dark hair and an eight-year-old with a gap between his teeth, “Abigail, Inez, Angela, Mila and Betty.” One by one, she placed her hands on the head of a girl with pigtails, a darker complexion and two buns on her head, a blonde girl, a girl who had bows everywhere, and a girl with ponytails. “And these are my daughters, Alice and Clara, and my faithful companion Cormac.”

P glanced at Alice, appreciating every detail of her face like a porcelain doll. Appreciating the way her lips parted as they looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Then they both turned their heads, and P was glad he couldn't blush — or at least he deeply hoped he couldn't.

Cormac walked up to him and started sniffing him.

He had rather experiences with cats — one in particular. Hence, the sight of the dog filled him with anxiety, especially because it looked so large that if it stood on its hind legs it would only be slightly shorter than him.

Cormac, however, did not attack him as he expected from his menacing appearance. He lay down at his feet, scratching the floor in front of him and looking into his eyes.

“He wants you to pet him!” Abigail exclaimed, and P wondered if he should do it the same way he did with Spring, or if the dogs should be petted differently.

He pursed his lips and crouched down, hanging his hand over the dog and the dog pushing its head under it. P carefully stroked his head, noting how gentle this intimidating giant was.

“Let me show you something,” Charlie announced and crouched down next to him, only to start scratching Cormac behind the ear.

Cormac began to lie on the floor, wagging his tail happily and laying on his back.

“He loves having his ears scratched!” he added, then scratched his stomach and stood up.

“Wash your hands before you eat, Charlie,” Mrs. Seymour pointed out.

“Of course, Alex!” he shouted, running to the bathroom. He returned a moment later, returning to the table, and Seymour crouched down next to P and grabbed his arm,

“Why don't you sit down at the table, hmm?”

P nodded and sat down next to the redhead. Otto, if he remembered correctly.

Mrs. Seymour, on the other hand, sat at the head of the table, opposite her older daughter.

“Where are you from, P?” Inez asked, trying to brush a stray curl from her forehead that had come out of one of the buns.

“From Krat…”

Dodo and Diggie sighed happily.

“It's a puppet city!” said Dodo.

“How amazing!” Diggie added. “We were going to go there, but Alex said it wasn't safe there. Apparently they rebelled.”

P brushed his hair back, feeling everyone looking at him.

“Unfortunately, yes, and that made them very dangerous. I know something about that,” he said, and interested murmurs echoed around the dining room. “I had to hunt them.”

The boys suddenly dropped their jaws in shock and jumped up in their chairs.

“Were you a puppet hunter?” Toby leaned against the table with his arms bent. “How cool!”

P felt like getting up and going for a walk. He didn't expect such interest. His body tingled, and suddenly his legs began to hurt terribly.

Until now, he didn't think he could feel pain at all.

“Okay kids, finish eating, and we'll help Ms. Sharpe clean up, then you can play before your sessions.”

P was grateful to Mrs. Seymour. It seemed that she noticed the tension that was building within him, and that he himself didn't have the heart not to answer them to the barrage of questions that were unfolding somewhere on the horizon.

“Thank you, Mrs. Seymour.”

“I know how difficult it can be, and they don't always know moderation.” She patted his hand lightly on his lap.

The children were playing, Mrs. Seymour was helping the housekeeper wash the dishes, and Alice had left the orphanage before ten o'clock — something told him to talk to her, but he didn't particularly have the courage to do so. He tried to stop his thoughts by unpacking his things, but they kept coming back to him and made him pause for a moment.

“I think you're tired, pal.”

P looked over his shoulder at Gemini's lamp. He sighed and shook his head.

“It's not tired.”

“So you're just lost in thought. I hope you don’t go back to what happened with… you know.”

P pursed his lips and hung his shirt on the hanger.

“No. I try not to think about it.”

“Hmm? So what is it about?”

He was about to come up with a neat lie when there was a knock on the door. However, he didn't have time to answer, because after a while he saw red hair and a freckled face peeking out from behind the open door.

“Well, listen, it was really good, you know? Incredible.”

P froze in place and Otto went inside and sat on the bed.

“I don't understand.”

“Well, your story. A puppet hunter who looks like you... damn, that would be a good story for a play or a book. Some kind of love story, probably…”

P didn't quite understand what Otto meant. Looks like him? What's that supposed to mean? What love? So far, he has had deeper contact with three women. Lady Antonia was his mother figure, as was Sophia — who always wanted him to do as he wanted, unlike his father. Then there was Eugénie — and although he thought she was a lovely person and liked her very much, he never saw her as a possible lover — more of a, well, sister-type.

He feared that his life as a puppet hunter was much less epic than Otto would have liked to imagine.

In addition, he felt like he was between a rock and a hard place. He had the choice of going back to talking about his thoughts with Gemini, or talking about the Puppet Frenzy and fighting them with Otto. He didn't feel like doing either.

Especially since telling someone other than Mrs. Seymour didn't seem therapeutic to him — more traumatic, especially since he couldn't quite tell how Otto would react when he would tell him everything.

Giangio said that Mrs. Seymour would have no right to judge him; but anyone else could have done it.

“I don't know what you're thinking…” he paused for a moment, trying to choose his words correctly — talking to others was still a bit difficult for him, “but it's not an epic love story at all.”

“So there was no knight on a white horse and no damsel in distress?”

P shook his head.

“There was oil and people who were mad at me for absolutely no reason and tried to kill me.”

“Still epic enough.”

A quiet, irritated snort escaped P's lips unconsciously.

“You don't seem to be the carousing type, are you?”

P looked at him over his shoulder and reached into his suitcase for his vest.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, big groups of friends, partying in bars, lovers…”

“Somehow I haven't had time for this before, you know?”

“I guess. But you wouldn't want to have time for this?”

P thought for a moment, looking at Gemini's lamp, hoping it would help him a little. But Gemini didn't speak.

P looked down and hung the vest in the closet.

“That's right, I'm not the carousing type.”

“Well. I won't force you to do anything. However, Ms. Sharpe asked us to help her with the delivery of products. There are two of us, plus the delivery person. It will go faster.”

P nodded and closed the closet as he and Otto went downstairs to the kitchen, where the delivery boy was fighting with a sack of potatoes. P walked over to it and helped him pick it up, earning surprised looks from both Otto and the delivery man.

He looked at them questioningly, then understood what they meant.

“I fought giant puppets. It’s not even that heavy.”

Otto laughed and P turned away to hide his slight embarrassment and carry the bag into the pantry.

The work went by quickly — in fact, the three of them, and with the strength of P, managed to deal with it extremely efficiently, because after just a dozen or so minutes the car was empty, and the pantry was topfull.

The delivery man took off his flat cap in greeting and drove away. However, in his place, a portly woman appeared, dressed as a housekeeper. P guessed it must have been Ms. Sharpe.

She grabbed Otto's shoulder and patted him on the back in thanks. Then she looked at him and smiled slightly.

“Well, I guess you must be P. Thank you for your help too.”

P nodded, smiling back.

“Okay, you can go about your business. I'll drag these rascals to peel potatoes. Dinner will be before two o'clock.”

“Skip one portion,” P muttered, and Ms. Sharpe looked at him questioningly. “I… well… I just can't eat.”

Nan slapped her hand on her forehead and nodded.

“Oh, yes, I understand. I’m sorry.”

He only assured that there was no problem and went upstairs, intending to hide in his room again. He was interrupted by Charlie, who ran up to him with a smile, announcing that Mrs. Seymour was calling him into her office for his first session.

He glanced towards his bedroom door, wondering if he should or even could take Gemini with him. Then his eyes fell on Charlie again, and he walked into the office without a word.

He took a breath and knocked on the door, walking inside as soon as he heard permission to enter.

Mrs. Seymour sat behind her desk with a cup of coffee at her side. P could smell it and wished he could eat or drink. He wondered about the taste of food and drinks — and he could only imagine them.

When he sat down, Mrs. Seymour asked him for a story. How did it all start. What he went through. What was the end.

Talking about his father was difficult. He felt inside that this was not how a father should behave, although in his head the thought appeared that maybe this was how it should be.

He talked about Lady Antonia, slightly lifting the corner of his mouth when he talked about the most wonderful voice in all of Krat. The smile only left his lips when he started talking about how he wished he could have spent a little more time with her.

Mrs. Seymour did not interrupt him once, only writing something down in her notebook from time to time. He noticed how different her typeface was. Sometimes she wrote sweepingly, other times long letters ended straight, without any loops. Sometimes she wrote in cursive, other times straight. Sometimes the E was made of dashes, other times it was a mirror image of a three — she crossed out the first one most often, and he could see her knitting her eyebrows.

He usually saw regular writing and wondered what could be causing this variability, which could occur even within a single word.

He fell silent, looking at her. She noticed this, asking him to continue.

“I think that's it…”

She muttered, setting the quill aside.

“Tell me, what do you associate with Geppetto?”

P thought for a moment.

“Or I have a better idea.” She stood up and rummaged through one of the drawers, pulling out some cards. “Now I should shuffle them and put them face down, but we'll do it differently this time.”

She opened the yellow aluminum box and unfolded the cards with various drawings on them. They depicted various areas of life, some of them depicting fantastic characters — the Emperor, the Empress, the Fool, or the Magician.

“Draw out the cards that remind you of your father.”

P looked at them, trying to pick out details that would tell him what the cards meant — any he didn't understand, he discarded. He drew The Emperor, The Pope, The Chariot, The Death, King of Swords, Five of Cups, Two, Three, and Seven of Swords. He also made an exception for The Moon — because even though he didn't fully understand this card, something told him he should draw it.

Alex was silent for a moment, resting the lower part of her face on her intertwined fingers.

“And if you were to tell me what you felt then and now, would you rather talk about it or present it in some way?”

P scratched the back of his right hand — not that it was itchy, he did it completely on reflex, hoping it would ease the strange feeling that was inside him.

“I'm just starting to learn how to talk about emotions,” he paused and looked at the cards in front of him. “In Krat I didn't think about them, and in fact, the first time I felt something was the death of Lady. Antonia. Such a tightness in the chest; weight.”

“Sadness.”

He nodded.

“So you don't have a problem with basic feelings. But if you had to tell me more about it. About what's on your mind. Would you rather show it or discuss it?”

“Show; but I don't know anything that could perfectly describe my thoughts. Talking about it seems… pretentious. Like I shouldn't talk about it.”

“That's nonsense. Each of us feels something, me, the children, my daughters, Otto, Nan. Even you.”

Alex opened the desk cabinet and searched it carefully.

“You said you're not an ordinary puppet-” She placed the object on her lap, “and I agree with that. When I look at you, I see someone in between. You may have springs and gears and pistons in your body, but you act like a human, feel like a human, think like a human and use defense mechanisms like a human.” She placed a sketchbook in front of him. “I bought it thinking that I would write down notes from the session in it, and then I threw it away in favor of this notebook.”

Mrs. Seymour's notebook was full of bookmarks, loose pages and numerous traces of use on the leather cover.

“Children have pencils in a container. It's on the shelf in the living room.”

“I can’t draw.”

“That’s nothing. Your drawings don't have to be perfect. They are meant to represent what is going on in your head. People, thoughts, whatever you want. Every session, you'll give it to me to look over, and we'll see what you've drawn, hmm?”

She smiled slightly at him. He returned the smile.

“All right.”

“Well then. Sketch your mind for me, and then we'll think about what to do next.”

P heard the children running down the stairs to the dining room, ready for afternoon tea — but he was so fixated on sketching what was on his mind that he only curled up his legs tighter on the couch and bowed his head to hide his work.

He really didn't want anyone but Mrs. Seymour to see it. He felt intimidated by the thought of someone else looking into what he thought. What he felt.

He heard the door open quietly and heels click. After a while, he saw the cornflower blue fabric of the dress out of the corner of his eye.

He closed his sketchbook and sat up straight, returning the slight smile he saw on Mrs. Seymour's older daughter's face.

“She used the same tactic with me.”

P opened his mouth.

He didn't think people couldn't describe their emotions, either. He attributed it to the puppets, especially himself. After all, he didn't know if other puppets felt emotions too.

“Does Mrs. Seymour do this often?”

She thought for a moment and shrugged.

“I don't think so. Children are usually effusive. Otto knows his feelings better than anyone and has no problem expressing what he thinks.”

He looked at Gemini's lamp. He was quiet except for his natural chirping sounds.

“Would you like to sit down?”

“No, I'll sit at the table, I don't want to disturb you.”

“You're not disturbing me.”

She glared at him, then set her bag on the coffee table, right next to Gemini's lamp, and sat down next to him on the couch.

They were silent for a moment. P wondered what to do now. He felt his heart flutter slightly as he tried to think of something.

“You left before ten. Something happened?”

Alice looked at him and took off her shoes, tucked her legs in and leaned on the armrest.

“No, everything was fine. I work in a theater, I sew costumes. I was going to work at ten o'clock.”

A big red exclamation mark appeared in his head. It worked, he found something they could talk about.

She could. She could tell him about her work, what is happening in the theater and what it all looks like behind the scenes. And he could listen to her, sometimes just asking for details.

Then, at dinner, she got up to get for herself a portion of food and returned to him to continue talking about her work.

“I feel stupid for only talking about myself.”

P smiled slightly.

“It doesn’t bother me. I don't want to talk about what I had to do.”

“So, maybe what you would like to do?” She rested her head on her hand, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I haven't had time to think about it yet,” he admitted. “But the set designer job you talked about sounds interesting.”

“Oh? Maybe a conservator?”

“The set designer sounds better. It's work-”

“Man, isn't this romantic? Just look at that sunset”

They both jumped, spotting Otto leaning against the wall and looking out the window.

“Right, sunset.” Alice rose from the sofa. “I should go home. The streets of London get dangerous after dark.”

“I think you can hang out some more. P will definitely be happy to accompany you.” Otto grinned and P looked at him, trying to understand what he meant.

“Thank you, but I'll be fine,” she assured, and after saying goodbye to Mrs. Seymour, she left the orphanage, bidding farewell to P with a quick wave.

“Well, well.”

P looked at Otto questioningly.

“What?”

“Nothing, that's just what I was told without a reason.” He shrugged and, putting his hands in his pockets, headed for the stairs, whistling.

“Otto, no whistling!” Mrs. Seymour exclaimed irritably, and Otto uttered a quick apology and ran upstairs.

P sighed and grabbed Gemini's lamp to go to his room as well.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Seymour.”

“Good night, P. Get some sleep.”

P smiled to himself. Thanks to the fact that he began to gain humanity, he was able to fall asleep normally. Sleep turned out to be pleasant, sometimes even necessary, and in a way he was glad that he could finally rest.

He put Gemini on the shelf and started changing into something more comfortable, first unfastening his legion arm and placing it next to the bed.

Gemini activated right after P got into bed and snuggled into one of the pillows, smiling to himself as an image of Alice appeared in his mind, happy as she talked about her job and the people she worked with.

And about the fact that she often had the opportunity to work with Mrs. Seymour because she performed on the stage of this theater.

“Okay, so that's it,” Gemini said. “You were thinking about Alice then.”

“She is nice.”

“And you like the way she looks.”

“She's pleasing to the eye.”

“That's what I'm talking about.”

“I won't talk to you about it. I'm too tired.” He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep.

But then he opened them again and smiled like a fool.

#alice madness returns #american mcgee's alice #alice liddell #lies of p #pinocchio lies of p #alice x pinocchio #p x alice #oc: alex seymour #oc: otto #american mcgee's alice oc #alice madness returns oc #alice madness returns fanfiction #american mcgee's alice fanfiction #lies of p fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3fic

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 2 years

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Maybe some of that dub con you’re good at 👀👀 maybe with a virgin! Reader and Marc and she’s super nervous but Marc is convincing her to let him, praising her and telling her how much he wants her and how he can’t hardly control himself anymore and she agrees and he takes her virginity while praising her and telling her how pretty she looks under him

Brain go brrr ngl though brain really was like lol explain EVERYTHING for smut lol

All deities need worshippers, most importantly, they need priests. Khonshu gave you this role, a role he often placed upon those in your family he deemed worthy of him. Your life, the very essence of your being, is devoted completely to Khonshu. Anything he wishes, you will give or make happen by your mortal hands.

You spoke about nothing other than Khonshu, Khonshu's will, or the hope for the current Fist of Khonshu.

Marc Spector is truly the most perfect Moon Knight you have ever known both from the archives full of records of past avatars of Khonshu to the traitor Arthur Harrow. He is the living embodiment of the phases of the moon though he thinks differently of his disorder. You believe the fates blessed Marc with this unique ability to truly represent Khonshu. After all, an avatar must be a reflection of their God.

Marc believes you are likely so brainwashed you see anything as a blessing from Khonshu… Almost no better than how Harrow defended Ammit with the way you speak up for Khonshu when he says how much he dislikes the bird.

A naive little priestess who is extremely sheltered by your upbringing.

"You are so beautiful," It took awhile to get you to this moment: the bed under Marc. Though you are covering your face ashamed, scared, aroused. "Sh, it's okay baby girl," Gently taking your wrists and pulling your hands away from your face. "Breathe, breathe. That's it, breathe for me." He is so gentle with you though you are frightened and you were unintentionally resistant.

You didn't mean to! This is so… Different.

Khonshu was known greatly for his ability to heal, as his priestess you are gifted with such power. Along with other abilities he can unlock to you if he so wishes. The moon God is also a fertility God as well… Steven told you this. Khonshu gave protection to those who were conceiving a child both human and cattle.

You knew Khonshu as a creature of vengeance, protector, and often bitter. Bitter towards the Gods who banished him, bitter towards the mortals who no longer pray to him, bitter towards himself.

It bothers Marc how you are constantly thinking about Khonshu, how everything around you revolves around the old bird.

"Eyes on me."

"But… He's staring." You do not want to do something that will offend the moon God though…You want to be touched more by his avatar. "We should…" What you do not know. Khonshu is there watching as you lay with a man, a mortal man who is his avatar, bare as the day you were born. You can hear his thoughts, is your God upset?

"Look at me," You do, "This is for you. You deserve to be loved." Why would Marc say that? He couldn't possibly be insinuating Khonshu doesn't love you. He does! The God of the moon has often told you he loved his devotees, he treasures them and remembers each one. He has praised you, showed you in gentle affections; things he doesn't show his avatar. It is true Khonshu can be cruel and manipulative but it is with reasons! Though you cannot– Should not– justify those actions, you know he would never intentionally harm you

"He loves me, Marc."

"I love you." There is something painful about the way he says it and the expression on his face, he means it. He means it knowing you are doing this under the belief Khonshu wants you to please his favorite avatar.

The avatar he calls son, the perfect avatar to be his Fist of Vengeance.

A mortal will be the first to ever enter you… You will not lie but you hoped Khonshu would take your virginity.

A single thick finger feels weird inside of you yet your velveteen warm walls squeeze around the finger, it wiggles and curls as if searching. You whimper as Marc kisses and whispers praises, you let out a cry when he brushes against something inside of you. Over and over he aims for that spot, one finger becomes two, he kisses away your tears of frustrated pleasure. You want to cum so bad.

To think this is barely into the sexual intercourse you… Researched after following Jake Lockley to a shady bar. You only wanted to see him at work!

"Please! Spector.. Spector, please!" You have once touched yourself but it hurt thus causing a fear of sex, though you desired to experience it with Khonshu, this fullness is both good and bad. Bad because you fear you will crave more of Marc Spector.

Two fingers, you held your breath ready for him to hurt you, you breathed out slowly when Marc instructed you to relax.

"Marc, you could always say Marc."

Saying his last was always an easy way to keep him at arm's length… What a failed plan for he invaded your thoughts. You only cared about Khonshu but now you care about the avatar bringing into clouds of bliss over and over. You cry not in pain but we erotic joy.

"Want to still ask him to join in?"

You still are twitching from the three orgasms he brought you to, "N-no. No, Marc."

He smiles, a smile hiding the smirk of victory.

Khonshu no longer is watching when you turn your head, you hope he isn't upset.

Not like you have time to dwell on it when Marc is keen on making sure you think (if you must) about him.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector #moon knight #moon knight x reader #marc spector my beloved #marc spector smut #anon ask #and the bird goes tweet tweet #reader insert #smut

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the-present-is-a-gift-au · 3 months

Text

Chapter 32: In Which There is Dinner and a Show

The Future Trio came by to pay Kip a visit. Twig gave them each a long, stern look as they all came through the door, and Kip wished he could decipher the glare’s meaning. The one person in the group she didn't deliver a narrow glower to was Dusknoir, who gave her one of his own that she didn't meet. That worried Kip— Twig would have stared Dusknoir down for giving her a cursory glance before, but now she was backing off when he murmured something Kip couldn't decipher beyond it being said in a concerned tone. Something was definitely going on. Kip needed to stop doubting himself on that.

Celebi kept eyeing Twig in that strange way she tended to whenever she felt cross with someone— a sort of vicious, wide-eyed dirty look that sent shivers down Kip’s spine. Luckily, he'd only been on the receiving end of that look once when he unknowingly ate the last slice of a dessert Celebi intended to save for herself to eat later, but the glare Twig was getting right now was so much more vicious than anything Kip had ever seen from the Legend. What happened? He needed to figure this out, and fast.

Maybe a meal would help.

***

Twig was going to die of a heart attack if this visit went on any longer. Tension was thick in the air, and Kip kept helplessly glancing between everyone in the room like maybe someone would explain why nobody had said anything over dinner yet if he gave them a pitiful enough look. Dusknoir had leaned down as he entered the house and whispered to her that he'd tried to convince Celebi and Grovyle to keep quiet about Darkrai, but that if she didn't tell Kip about the situation soon, he would explain it himself, and he wouldn't sugar coat anything in how he relayed the story.

That was fine, Twig said. She didn't need him to hold her idiocy over her head when she was doing that perfectly fine on her own. She knew she needed to get over herself and tell Kip, but she wasn't sure how to explain that not only had she taken in an amnesiac Darkrai, but she had let him go once his memories returned. It would be a miracle if her friend didn't drop dead of terror in response to that.

Celebi was giving her death glares across the table— no doubt for having indirectly forbidden her from gossiping about the greatest drama their circle had seen in ages— but Twig didn't pay her any attention beyond asking the Legend to pass a bowl full of spiced corn. Celebi looked like she was sorely tempted to huck the bowl at Twig's head, but settled on sliding it over with a huff.

Silence. The cordial chit chat had already been said. What more was there to say? Quiet reigned with a tense fist.

Grovyle, of course, was the one to break it. “Twig got a roommate while you were gone.”

Twig sent him a look so venomous she almost thought she invented a new attack with the way Grovyle grimaced like he'd been struck. He met her eyes and gave her an encouraging, albeit absolutely unwanted, tilt of his head.

“I heard from Team Skull of all people, actually,” Kip said. “Twig said he was a dark-type, if I remember right?”

“Yep,” she said through gritted teeth, recalling how she'd struggled to word her letters vaguely enough not to raise alarms.

“What was his name again? I don't remember you ever mentioning it in any letters.”

Grovyle looked directly at Twig from across the table. “He goes by Ark, but his species name is— ack!”

She pulled her foot back from where she had kicked him in the leg under the table, leveling him with a glare as he begrudgingly caught the hint. “He didn't know his species name,” she said, the cover story flowing out of her smoothly thanks to all the times she had practiced how she'd recite it on the way to Treasure Town. “He actually had amnesia, which is why I offered him a place to stay at all. Felt bad for the guy. It doesn't really matter now, though. He moved out.”

“He what?” Grovyle scrutinized her, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth or adding onto her bluff.

“I hadn't heard that,” Dusknoir said, testing the waters in his own way.

“Yeah. We had an argument that we couldn't get over. I talked to Celebi about it and she thinks we were right to go our separate ways.” She popped a sweet-tasting root into her mouth and chewed, waiting for the conversation to move on.

Kip nudged Twig. He was sitting right beside her, which set him at the perfect vantage point to bump their elbows together kindly. “I'm sorry that it didn't work out. If you want, you can move back in with me. I know you said living alone was too weird for you.”

Twig frowned. Hadn't he already assumed that she'd be moving back in? She thought it was obvious that she'd do that once he returned to Treasure Town. Why did it sound like he was nervous to offer her a place in his home again?

“Thanks man,” she finally said. “I appreciate it.”

The rest of the meal was had in silence. Grovyle watched her worriedly throughout it. Twig hated every second.

#pmd eos #pmd explorers #pmd fanfic #pmd fanfiction #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd2 #pmd fic #pmd sky #pmd #the present is a gift au

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ziseos · 1 year

Text

Tales of Tangerines and Hearts

1- Sun and Moon

original link ao3:

_________________________

Just a collection of LawNa moments, taking place after the events of Punk Hazard and forward. As you might notice as you read, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes ✨🤌🏼

__________________________

After days of incessant rain, calm had finally returned to the ocean and the heat of the sun, no longer hidden by dark stormy clouds, had been a welcome return for everyone on the Sunny, whose name clearly referred to that precious star.

The cloudless blue sky reminded everyone that spring was almost there, just as the mandarin trees that stood out luxuriantly next to the mast also reminded of it, showing the first buds of the seasons.

Nami sat with her back turned against one trunk, as she loved to do at that time of the morning, enjoying the refreshing shade offered by the tree; she loved to listen to the lapping of the waves, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin, taking advantage of a moment when most of the crew was still in their cabins sleeping.

She took a deep breath of the sea breeze, enjoying the intense scent of salt that was familiar to her and closing her eyes to fully enjoy that moment of peace, knowing that it would not last much longer. Robin would probably have been the first to wake up, but in spite of the others, she was quiet and discreet, so she wouldn't have disturbed Nami in her moment of relax.

She was a morning person, usually in the morning she loved to get up early, go to the still empty kitchen and enjoy a citrus tea in the total silence of the room, which sometimes was interrupted by the cries of the seagulls flying over the Thousand Sunny.

She indeed used to be the only one, but only until a few weeks before.

Leaning against one of the outer walls of the cabins, Law stared at the horizon beyond the ship's rail, at the point where the sea and the sky seemed to merge into one. He too preferred to take advantage of those rare quiet moments on the ship, when the ramshackle Straw Hat crew was still resting.

He was a loner who appreciate silence, especially since he found himself living in the midst noisy pirate crew who loved to party whenever it was possible, a place that could be defined in many ways, but that was far from being quiet and peaceful.

Despite everything, he had learned to enjoy those little moments of tranquility ... and also the nice company present at that time.

They didn't talk often throughout the day, perhaps because they had very different approaches: Nami was a cheerful and talkative spirit, Law was mostly solitary and taciturn. At first glance, one might have thought that they were completely different, just like day and night, sun and moon.

In fact, unlike Nami, he was more of a night owl; he usually stayed up late in the night, reading in the room that Luffy had reserved for him: it was a much smaller room than hiss on the Polar Tang, and more spartanly furnished, but it was still something. At least the room was equipped with a porthole that overlooked the ocean, a pleasant view.

For a few weeks he had not been able to rest at night, more than usual, waking up in the early hours of the morning due to nightmares while everyone in the ship was still sleeping. They were always the same nightmares: the hospital on fire, the screams of frightened children, the sound of gunfire, Doflamingo's triumphant grin and Corazon's broken smile.

So he had found himself sleeping even less than usual, and waking up almost every morning at dawn, initially convinced that he was the only one around the deck of the ship at that time. He was convinced of it, until one morning, while wandering around the main deck, he had caught a figure out of the corner of his eyes moving away from the dormitory to reach the mainmast area.

He did not immediately understand who it was, also because he did not believe that someone in that crew could have something urgent to do at that time on the deck. But the early morning light had illuminated the figure for a few moments, reflecting on her sunset red locks, revealing that she was Strawhat’s navigator.

He had followed her with his eyes as Nami went up to her mandarin plantation, avoiding being seen by her while staying near his cabin. He certainly did not want to seem a stalker in the eyes of the redhead, who had a decidedly touchy temperament, and a bit fiery indeed.

She moved confidently around the ship, which had effectively become her second home, stopping to fondly caress her tangerine trees as if they were part of her family; he often saw her taking care of them, watering them with Robin, taking care of broken branches and removing dry leaves.

Despite being half hidden by the foliage of trees, he could still see her sinuous figure moving across the deck, dressed only in a light nightgown, which left her slender, tanned legs uncovered. Nami's skin illuminated by the first subtle rays of the sun shone invitingly, along with the locks of her red hair that, moved by light breezes of wind, framed her face, so much so that Law found himself almost unable to look away.

He wasn't the type to watch a woman insistently, no matter how attractive she might be, yet he couldn't help but watch the young navigator who was intent on staring at the sun as it rose from east, emerging from the ocean with elegance, painting the sky with shades of pink and gold.

Her whole figure, flaming hair, golden skin adorned with slight freckles, her chocolate-colored eyes and fiery temperament ... she seemed the very incarnation of the Sun, a star with human features.

Unbeknownst to him, Nami had immediately noticed his presence, even though he had tried to hide in the shadow of his cabin, thanks to her previous experiences as a cat thief, which had sharpened her senses. She was surprised to see the Surgeon of Death around at that time, as he usually left his cabin before lunch despite being awake for a few hours.

Unlike her, he was dressed as always, while carrying his nodachi on his shoulder, so that Nami found herself wondering if he also slept hugging his sword like a stuffed animal. Just imagining him that way, she chuckled, but she immediately calmed herself to avoid attracting his attention.

She had always been convinced that Law was more of a nocturnal type, especially since she had occasionally gone to the kitchen late at night for a hot drink, and as she passed his cabin she had noticed the lights on reflected under his door.

The night suited him more than her.

Looking up at the sky behind her, to the west, she could still see traces of the night in the stretch of sky not yet illuminated by the sun. Law's raven hair mingled with the morning darkness, as did his clothes, while his steel eyes seemed to reflect the crescent moon still visible in the sky.

People said that the moon was a mysterious celestial body, which showed only one part of itself to others, hiding the other from prying eyes and perhaps, Law was like that. He wasn't a guy who talked much, except to argue with Luffy about their plan, to covertly complain about bread in the kitchen, and to consult with Chopper about the medical field.

He rarely attended her crew's noisy dinners, preferring to dine in his room or on the foredeck. However, she had to admit that she had found him changed in those months spent together, from the meeting on Punk Hazard until after leaving for Dressrosa: if on one hand he always remained with his serious gaze, towards her he seemed more kind, even if she could not explain herself the reason why.

He was definitely different from her companions, and perhaps it was precisely that taciturn and reserved attitude of his that had sometimes had caught her attention. It wasn't just his statuesque physique, bronze skin and magnetic gaze that made him extremely interesting to her eyes, but she almost felt like there was something more hidden in him; she could feel it, for example from the way he looked at her scar covered by the flashy blue tattoo, as if he were trying to penetrate under her skin with his gaze.

A shiver had shaken her, partly due to the cool of the morning caressing her bare legs, but also to the thought of Law's gaze on her.

Indeed, he was still watching her, still hidden in the twilight of the early morning.

"Tra-guy." - Nami said, looking in his direction and leaning back on the parapet, giving her back to the rising dawn - "Why are you awake at this time?"

Law had moved slightly out of the shadows in which he had remained until that moment, still remaining close to his cabin.

“I could ask you the same thing, Nami-ya. Your companions are still asleep. "

"In fact, that's the reason."

"What do you mean?"

"They are still resting, so I have to take advantage of these few moments of silence on the ship." - she answered smiling, turning again towards the point where the sun rose from the ocean - "Besides, this is a special moment."

"I agree on the silence matter. And the view is not bad either. "

Nami blushed slightly, believing the compliment was partly about her too.

“I've always loved this moment of the day, not just for the silence, the colors and everything else… it's a truly magical moment. And every time we travel from one place to another, it is a show that always changes, it never stays the same. " – she continued.

Law nodded silently, agreeing to the redhead's words.

Both had remained silent, enjoying the spectacle of lights and colors on the ocean, breathing deeply the fresh morning air.

A few weeks had passed since that first morning meeting, and from then on almost every morning to the break of dawn, they both met on the deck of the ship to enjoy the spectacle of the ocean and those moments of silence and tranquility that were rarely found on the Sunny, like in a silent promise.

As the Moon and the Sun only met at that moment in the sky, they too did the same.

When my moon rises

Your sun rises as well

Under the same sky

In this different time

Our hearts are connected

Under the same sky

Sun & Moon – NCT 127

#one piece #onepiece #onepieceff #ao3fic #ao3 #archives of our own #ao3 fanfic #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #nami #lawna #law x nami #lawnami

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elisedonut · 17 days

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Microfic May Day 20!

@microficmay

ngl I think this is my favorite out of my Lavender microfics This is the exact vibe i have been imagining for the Bill/Lavender side of Lavender/Fleur/Bill I just love bonding over shared experiences

Now I have to figure out what to do with unhand tomorrow because it's one of the three that are still sadly currently empty djfkhdaskjfs

WC: 632

Prompt: Push & Pull

Summery:

Lavender feels like she barely even knows herself anymore. Acting out in ways that seem to make sense in the moment but feel so cruel later. Luckily, she has someone around who understands what she's going through.

The push and pull of the waves we like a lullaby to her. Luring her into a calm that's hard for her to find on her own anymore. Shell Cottage in general is like a haven to her. She briefly hopes Bill and Fleur never make her leave but that’s unreasonable to be hoping for.

Ever since the battle– Ever since she got the scars. It's been difficult for her to control herself. Not impossible, but she has to be so much more careful, so much more in control, or she’ll find herself lashing out over the stupidest of things. It’s a difficult adjustment to say the least.

A slightly flickering light that makes her feel like she needs to hide under a thick blanket. A horrible noise that makes her want to cover her ears and hide away. A touch she’s not expecting, making her want to turn around and attack.

She still can’t believe she slapped Granger like that.

She felt horrible about it the moment she did it but the fact she did it at all is still eating at her. She had run out of the house immediately after but that didn't stop her from seeing the hurt look in her eyes. Didn’t stop her from seeing the pain she had caused blossoming red on cheek.

Hiding her face in her knees as the tears continue to fall. She knows when she does pull herself back together enough to go back in she’ll be gone. She’ll have to write a letter to apologise. Hope for the best. Hope she doesn’t hate her now. Hope she doesn’t abandon her.

After listening to the waves for a little longer she hears the door of the cottage open. Part of her hopes it’s Granger. She knows it isn't though, even before he sits next to her.

“You alright?” Bill asked.

When she looks back at him with tear stained eyes, he sighs.

“Yeah I didn’t think you would be. She’s not mad at you, you know? She knows you didn’t mean it.”

“I just–” Lavender tries to find a way to explain and ends up unsure of how to. Judging from how Bill’s looking at her she doesn’t really think she actually needs to. One positive about this horrible situation she’s found herself in is at least some else understands it too.

“One time, a few months after I got mine. I–” He falters for a moment. “I gave a close friend a bloody nose. For the same reason even. It was quick, instinctual, like my brain just shut off.”

“Do they still talk to you?” Lavender asks.

“She didn’t make it out of the war. I felt so horrible about it but Tonks never actually held it against me. Even if I really think she should have.” Bill spoke softly, still staring out at the water.

Lavender doesn't have anything to say to that. ‘I'm sorry for your loss’ always feels so fake nowadays. In the end she opts for holding out her hand to him in the way Fleur has done for her plenty in the past few months. She almost thinks he isn’t going to accept it. But after a breath he does, letting their fingers intertwine.

His hand is rougher and larger than Fleur’s is but Lavender can’t help but think it’s much more gentle. Fleur always feels like she’s keeping you tethered to her hand. As if to keep you from falling from a high cliff. Bill’s grip is soft in comparison. Like he needs to be the one tethered. They really are made for each other. Sitting and letting the waves pull them into a sense of security even if it may be false is enough for the moment.

She’ll send Granger a letter tomorrow.

#lavender brown #bill weasley #fleur delacour #Lavender Brown/Bill Weasley #Lavender Brown/Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley #I've been waiting to be able to post this one because I love it so much I almost wanted to just post it early #hp rarepairs #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #microficmay2024 #Lavebleur

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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year

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The Frog Trooper - (3/4)

Summary: After contracting a bad case of strep throat, Dogma ends up feeling a little less like himself and begins to withdraw from his brothers. An outside force decides to teach him about self-value and to trust in one's brothers, no matter how annoying they may be.

[Dogma continues to have a hard time, especially when his newfound froggy instincts and odd behaviour puts into question whether or not the others still consider him sentient or not. What's a distressed overthinking frog to do under such conditions?]

[Part 2 can be found here or on AO3]

---

“I’ll have to be honest boys, I’ve never seen anything like it." Ahsoka said with a frown, as she stared at the frog with the impossibly familiar presence in the Force that should (most definitely) only belong to one very distinct trooper of the 501st. "This is not something that just happens...”

Almost immediately the medics lost their smiles at the rather blunt statement. Not because any of them were foolish enough to believe they’d get a quick resolution to Dogma’s peculiar problem. Rather, in their minds if even a Jedi had trouble gouging the absurdity of it all, then it was likely this ordeal might take a lot longer than they could afford to fix...

And their leave time was most definitely not infinite.

In a couple of days they’d be headed off planet to help provide support on a mercy mission. One that involved the Jedi's agricultural division and a couple hundreds of tons of crops. That much perishable cargo could not go unguarded. Especially not when pirate activity had doubled in the last couple of months.

There was no way they could possibly bring a nerfburger sized frog with them to help defend the Jedi AgriCorps from potential hijackings. He'd just get in the way. Or worse...

And, while commander Tano may still only be a Padawan learner and not a fully fledged Jedi (she was still very inexperienced), the grim look on her face spoke volumes of the severity of the situation itself. After all, she had been raised in the Temple since she had been a tiny little youngling. Her curiosity and drive to learn would have lead her to seek answers to any sort of strange convoluted tales of this very same fantastical nature.

And, if she truly had never heard of a being becoming a frog for no discernible reason, then there was likely nothing in the Archives that might help. Or at least nothing accessible to any of them, mere clone soldiers untouched by the Force.

“We can still try talking to Master Jocasta Nu about it. She knows the Archives and all of the information they contain better than anyone in the Order…” Ahsoka continued upon seeing the look on all 6 of their faces (he wasn’t sure that he could emote as well as the others anymore, but Dogma knew for a fact he didn’t look happy about this). “But whatever caused it isn't something most Jedi would know or even want to do to another sentient… And if Dogma wasn’t in contact with any kind of artifact recently, then I really don’t know what could have changed him…”

So in essence, if they didn’t find a way to change Dogma back soon, there was no telling what might become of him in the 501st's absence. And there were at least two species of sentients in the Temple that actively consumed amphibians. There was no telling how many more resided in Coruscant alone, aside from the armies of stray tookas and other assorted critters that would most definitely not have much of a problem sneaking into the GAR barracks.

Dogma didn't fancy the idea of getting devoured by either Master Yoda, or someone's unsupervised pet. Oh he did not fancy that idea one bit...

He croaked out a despairing sigh that earned him a sympathetic wince from the commander. Difficulty emoting or not, such a pitiful sigh was a universal sign for the general displeasure of being the butt of a cruel joke.

"It just... It just kind of happened really suddenly..." Pitch's shoulders dropped slightly in defeat. Likely from having his hopes so quickly dashed. "One moment he was drinking some water in the mess with the others, the next he was puking up blood and running to the medbay get help..."

"And then he collapsed into soup." Twitch pipped up. The other medics shuddered at the reminder, while Dogma simply opted to ignore the comment altogether. Best not think about that if he ever wanted to eat soup ever again.

Or go without some very horrifically themed nightmares.

"That's... Uh... Alarming." Their commander seemed unsure of how to phrase it delicately. A side effect of being the highly unorthodox general Skywalker's apprentice no doubt. But it seemed general Kenobi's influence still shone through, which was a relief. "Has anyone else ended up like this? Or is it really just Dogma?"

"Just Dogma." Sponge answered calmly. They didn't look all that fussed, which was either them just masking their distress or an attempt to keep everyone else's heads cool. "We don't know why. He'd been taking it easy after catching a rather severe case of strep throat. No time at all to get up to shenanigans... Not that Dogma would."

"Hm... No strange artifacts, no encounters with malicious witches, no threading on cursed grounds that we know of..." The young togruta listed each idea on a finger as she spoke, trying to at least narrow it down to something feasible. "Master Obi-wan would probably have some more ideas... But I still think speaking with the chief librarian might be our better option until he's back from his mission..."

"That tracks. We've tried contacting commander Cody to ask for advice already...." Kix added as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

From his perch within Pitch's now very waterlogged bucket, Dogma could somewhat tell he was growing agitated. It made something in his own skin itch with trepidation of some kind. A need to sink into the water out of sight.

"Total comms blackout." Twitch's smile gained an air of nervousness to it as he seemed to consider the alternative offered to them. "Are we... Are we allowed in the Archives? We're not... We're not Jedi. Or Padawan learners..."

"Well, there will be restrictions obviously. Only members of the Order get to see what's locked away in there. Not even most Padawans get to see the full scope of it until they get knighted, and even then they still have set limitations until they become Masters." The togruta crossed her arms as she explained this, falling into a slightly easier smile. "But keeping what's going on in mind, we'd need to take Dogma to the Archives to better explain the circumstances... So I don't see why you couldn't go in at all, so long as you're with me and don't tamper with the Stacks..."

You'd think after the threat of a stolen Holocron that the security measures would have been reinforced to something more grandiose than just a simple escort permission. Stationing a couple of Temple Guards at the doors surely couldn't do any harm. Still, Dogma couldn't complain at the idea of seeing the inside of the Archives for himself.

All that knowledge... So close yet so far...

It was a wish come true to be able to just be inches away from such a rich pool of information. Maybe once he had his human form back he'd be able to walk amongst the Stacks to appreciate the sheer beauty of them? Just for a few minutes? A clone trooper could certainly dream...

He let himself sink further into the bucket, laying his belly on the very bottom so that he could rest and mull over some thoughts. Ambitions set aside, he had to start prioritizing some things. Like what he knows about his current condition, how he got where he is, and what's likely to come.

It had certainly been a while since he'd brushed up on medical protocol. Hadn't needed to think about it in a while, even if he was technically one of the 501st's reserve medics. One of the troopers you would have to go to if the actual medics were unavailable due to unforeseen circumstances (or even death on the field).

It hadn't happened yet, nor had he wanted it to. As confident as he was that he could stitch up a brother without much issue, he doubted anyone trusted him enough to do so for them...

Also he was just never really good at comforting anyone other than Tup, because he wasn't very good at reading people's tones. At best he could tell when he wasn't wanted, which was often.

Even so, Dogma is no fool. At least not in this particular situation.

The Jedi would be their first option. Commander Tano would be taking them to the Temple to speak to the master archivist, in the hopes that maybe she would have an answer to this peculiar plight. Then (if that proved fruitless) they would likely be taken to the healers for a second opinion of some kind.

And then if that too did not work for them, Dogma would likely be sent to Kamino to be dissected. A thought which made him begin listlessly floating back up from the bottom of Pitch's bucket.

He shuddered to think what the Kaminoans might do to him. What sorts of experiments and protocols they had for situations that involved, pardon the expression, Force Osik.

But it was the likeliest outcome to all of this.

Currently he was a liability. A rather bizarre unknown that would need studying. And who better to crack such mysteries than the people who'd made them? That knew them inside out? Even the medics didn't have much of a choice but to send the worst cases back to Kamino sometimes... No matter how healthy he may actually be, his current condition fit the bill for a returnal.

At least he'd get to see a part of the Temple before he died. He thinks Acronym would have been jealous of him for that.

Reemerging from his temporary dive, Dogma tried to compose himself before using his stubby little forelimbs to cling to the edge of Pitch's bucket once more. The chilly air felt refreshing enough, and his brothers and commanding officer seemed none the wiser about his inner turmoil.

Good. He didn't need to embarrass himself further.

"There's been a stall of information if that is what you are inquiring, commander..." He catches the tail-end of whatever question Sponge had answered. They seem nonchalant about it.

Kix on the other hand, does not.

"Sponge has argued fervently against updating the rest of the vode until we have potential answers." The slightly older medic corrected, expression sour over the matter. "Or a plan of sorts..."

"No one else knows?" The young Togruta frowns, seeming apprehensive about this particular tidbit of information.

"Well... Everyone that was in the mess knows Dogma was throwing up blood and teeth. And uh, the others definitely saw him start to uh... Transform..." Twitch offered with a nervous and rather unsure smile. One could only mention one of their own kin change in a rather gruesome fashion so many times before it lost its luster. "It wasn't pretty and Tup's been blowing up the comms for hours. He's scared half to death because we haven't said anything..."

"Until we can say for sure Dogma will be ok..." Sponge's eye twitched despite them keeping a leveled voice. "...We won't be saying anything. I'd rather not offer anyone any false hope, nor openly lie about this."

"Oh please... Admit you're still just angry about the other day. That's all it ever is with you!" Kix crossed his arms, annoyance permeating his tone like a thick coat of oil.

"My feelings on everyone else's lack of tact do not affect my work as a medic." Sponge rolled their eyes before pointedly glaring at the other. "I tend to look after my little brothers, unlike some clones..."

"Oi oi oi!" Dogma startled as Pitch's voice came directly from above him. He glanced up at the blue haired medic who looked displeased with both Sponge and Kix. "Let's not dig up old wounds, ok? We need to concentrate. And not get into needless squabbles in front of a commanding officer."

That seemed to get both of them to settle down for now.

Even so, Dogma noted the poorly concealed glares the older medical officers gave each other before they relaxed. It made him wonder what had gotten them so tense to begin with. Last he checked there wasn't any bad blood between them.

Was there?

"I don't think it's a good idea to keep everyone in the dark about this for too long..." Ahsoka offered once both medics had calmed down. "But I do agree with Sponge about not offering anyone false hope at the moment. Whatever this is..."

And she looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers. The obvious concern in those soulful pools made him feel so very small and exposed. She seemed... Nervous.

He didn't like that.

"...It needs to be handled delicately."

---

"Gotta love ordering out at Dex's..." Pitch gleefully tucked into a nice juicy nunaburger as the group sat around in the barracks, going through some of the holobooks they'd checked out from the library while eating their lunch.

Just as Dogma had feared, the results of their consultation with both generals Nu and (subsequently) Che did not yield immediate answers. And, where Ahsoka's lack of knowledge on the matter had been worrying but not too disappointing due to her inexperience, the astounded reactions of two Jedi Masters were much more disheartening.

Really, the only positive outcome of seeking out help from the Temple was that they had gained the support of two very knowledgeable individuals. Jetiise who wouldn't give up on uncovering the secrets to such an odd occurrence, just because they were a little stumped on the root cause.

On top of that, Dogma had also gotten another health assessment that was done as more of a form of reassurance to the clone medics than for himself.

He was the perfect bill of health... For a frog...

And he would remain so, so long as his brothers attended to his current froggy needs. In fact, general Nu had been quite insistent that they do some research if they hoped to keep Dogma alive long enough to maybe see a cure in the near future. A sentiment which was greatly appreciated by the frog trooper, but that also filled his tiny pudgy body with tremendous amounts of fear.

Dogma was no stranger to the mortality of himself and the vode. He just never had to really worry about it outside of battle because he wasn't exactly fragile to begin with. He was made of sturdy stuffs just like any other clone. He was also fully independent and capable of caring for himself (he didn't need to rely on anyone, and shouldn't have to).

As it stood now however, his constitution was most definitely not the sturdiest. The incident with the dry skin was enough of a warning on this matter. He was now completely dependent of other's care to get through the day, and did not know how to feel about this (other than deficient on the survival department).

He wasn't even the only one who had to think about this new factor.

So, having parted from the Temple to rethink their situation, the medics had come to their own conclusions on how best to proceed from then on out. That they couldn't exactly figure this out on an empty stomach, and that the public library may have some information about budgett's frogs that may be of use to them...

"Preach it brother." Coric agreed with Pitch's comment in between bites of a handful of fries "I swear the GAR should just hire him to deal with mealtime. He could make anything taste good."

Dogma would agree if he could. There was just one tiny problem aside from the fact he currently couldn't speak neither basic nor their dialect of mando'a. No one had bothered to get him anything. And he was starving too!

His fault entirely for skipping meals the prior night, and then not accepting Twitch's offer of sharing during early meal. Not that he would have kept it down for long, but still...

Watching his brothers stuff their faces while his own stomach felt like it was tightening painfully into an intricate knot, was a form of torture unlike any other. But also being able to smell the rather juicy looking burgers and other assorted junk food? The sight was making his brain go blank with an all consuming gluttonous desire.

He wasn't even a fan of fast food and all that disgusting greasiness that came with it! In fact, the idea of touching slick fried foods with his bare hands usually made him squirm and gag with just how wrong it felt. The amount of oil and saturated fats used to make that crud just couldn't be healthy.

Turning into a frog had likely made his finicky palate a little less picky.

"You're both gross..." Sponge grunted in revulsion at the sight of Pitch and Coric speaking with their mouths full. "Have some manners..."

"Oh lay off the decorum, we're all siblings here vod'ika!" Coric grinned. There were bits and pieces of fries stuck between his teeth. It only made Sponge scrunch up their face in even more nauseated indignation.

"And have something to eat while you're at it..." Kix pointed his fork at them after swallowing another forkful of his own food. "A fancy milkshake isn't going to sustain you all day..."

"Says the man eating a fruit salad." Sponge rolled their eyes.

Twitch giggled as he watched the older medics bicker between themselves over who was eating what, and how clearly one of them had the superior taste buds. A second later he glanced over to where they'd set Pitch's flooded bucket down, and noted Dogma's unblinking stare. Fully focused on their take-out containers.

And the frog didn't take long to notice he was being watched.

"What?" He croaked out institutionally, frowning when he remembered that the kih'vod would not be able to understand any of his words. It was all just garbled animal noises to them.

Still Twitch didn't look away or seem bothered by the rather unbecoming noise he'd just made. He seemed to be considering something, actually.

"Hey... Uh, do any of those holobooks say what these kinds of frogs normally eat?" The kid looked towards the others, a frown on his face.

This seemed to get everyone's attention.

"It's just... Well Dogma skipped late meal yesterday... And this morning he threw up a lot. He must be pretty hungry by now..." The young but rather perceptive medic pointed out. "But uh, I really don't want to give him anything that'd make him sick. Just keeping him in tap water is already making me a little nervous..."

"The water filtration system isn't very good no..." Pitch conceded, seeming almost guilty now as he stared at his burger and then at Dogma. The latter still clearly interested in their lunch.

"As for your question, it says here our vod is a voracious little predator." Sponge scrolled through one of the holobooks, seeming somewhat fascinated by what they were reading. "They are specialized in hunting other frogs. Tadpoles to be exact."

Dogma puffed up at this. He was NOT eating a tadpole. No way in hell! He'd rather starve!

"Erm...We don't exactly have tadpoles at hand..." Twitch grimaced in disgust, likewise seeming against the thought. "Is there anything else we can give to him?"

"Well, it also says here that these little guys eat insects and snails, which we also do not have at hand... However it appears that the people of the planet where they originate from often keep them as household pets." Sponge tapped their chin in thought. "I know a couple of vode who keep amphibians in terrariums under their bunks... Perhaps they could provide some idea of substitute feed. They'd also know what pet traders would reliably give us something that wouldn't harm Dogma..."

"Oh! That's another thing! We should build him a terrarium!" Pitch exclaimed excitedly. "That way we both free up my poor bucket, and also keep Dogma somewhere nice and safe that will feel more comfortable for him!"

The frog in question frowned. A terrarium? He didn't need something like that! Surely they could just let him wander about and occasionally just spray his body with a little water so he didn't dry up! Setting up some kind of enclosure was excessive.

And a blatant misappropriation of supplies.

"I guess that would tick off all the boxes in general Nu's recommendations..." Coric crossed his arms and pondered on the matter a little more. "We have the knowledge at our disposal, we just need the materials and appropriate food... And maybe check to see if tap water is safe for him or not..."

Dogma couldn't believe this...

They were legitimately considering putting him in a tank. Like as if he were some kind of a battalion pet or mascot!

He would not stand for this kind of treatment!

A seething burning rage like nothing he'd ever felt before, was suddenly coursing through his veins and causing his squishy little body to begin ballooning like a startled gullipud.

How dare they? How dare they insinuate such a thing? That he'd ever be comfortable in a position where he was treated as a lesser simple minded being?! He'd thought at least the medics had cared.

"YOU ARE NOT DOING ANY OF THAT! I AM NOT BEING PUT ON DISPLAY FOR EVERYONE TO LAUGH AT!" The vexed frog shrieked in indignant rage, kicked his hind legs wildly as he tried to escape the confines of Pitch's helmet. The urge to run at them and yell in their faces was a strong one, but the way his body puffed up into such a roundish shape made it hard to make it over the edge that was currently keeping him contained.

At least his grating screeches seemed to catch them all by surprise.

All five medics were staring at him in shock as he continued to flail about uselessly, making quite the mess as he furiously splashed the table with water.

"Oh man... I think he's getting cranky..." Pitch winced as he took in the sight before them. His discomfort more than apparent.

"Well, Dogma is usually a grouch when he's hungry..." Kix moved over to try to push the upset frog fully back into the water, but very quickly retracted his hand when he nearly got his fingers bit into. "We really need to get him something to eat. He'll settle down afterwards."

That was not why he was angry!

They just said they were going to put him in a glass cage, which gave him a perfectly good reason to be upset with all of them. They were treating him like he wasn't even there, or capable of independent thought! That, just because he'd become a frog, that suddenly he enjoyed everything a frog did!

He flailed harder and snapped at Kix, wanting nothing more than to bite into those heavily calloused and intrusive fingers and hang off them until he proved his point. He would NOT be treated like some dumb little verminous critter!

He was a clone of Prime just like them. A highly trained soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic. Best marksman of his squad and class, and proficient in tactical analysis. He'd fight them to prove it. He'd scream and bite and rip into their fingers if that is what it took for these insufferable giants to back off and leave him be!

Dogma's eyes widened and he suddenly froze. Where had those thoughts come from? He wasn't, and never had been, the sort of vod to resort to biting another brother in a fight.

But just now he'd... He'd tried to do it...

And he'd been snapping at Kix with enough force that he might have actually drawn blood from him if he'd managed to latch on. Had fully intended to injure the medic on purpose, which was so startlingly uncharacteristic of him that it made him tremble and deflate. The fight completely gone from him.

That wasn't... The way he'd reacted wasn't right... He'd never do such a thing as to think about actively harming his vode! Even on Umbara his actions had never been personal.

He felt wrong. This all felt very wrong. What was happening to him? To his mind? Had his changes been more than physical?

Most terrifying of all, would he continue to change until he really was nothing more than an ugly and aggressive little frog?

Would he... Would he stop being Dogma? The thought terrified him.

---

By the end of midday meal, it was unanimously decided that Dogma's situation needed to be announced to the 501st. Not to everyone of course, only to the other clones who would be recruited into helping tend to Dogma while he was in this state, so obviously they had to be debriefed on the matter.

The natborn officers (sans commander Tano and generals Nu and Che) didn't need to know just yet. And perhaps that was for the better. Dogma's track record was already not great and any more negative attention might end poorly for him.

Sponge hadn't been entirely happy with not having more answers before they told the others, but they had given in once Twitch had insisted that any longer and Tup might begin to actively hunt them all down to interrogate them...

It all seemed like the perfect setup for Dogma to suffer yet another humiliation. Only the laughter and mockery he'd been expecting as he miserably lay in Sponge's gloved hands never really came.

In fact, Hardcase, Jesse, Fives, Echo and Tup looked a little horrified as they were given the full details of just what had happened once Dogma's morphing body had been dragged into the medbay (leaving a bloodied greasy streak behind for them to gawk at). The horror turned to nausea, and then apprehension as Coric wrapped up the explanation with what they had been told to do.

And then Twitch added to the conversation with the ideas they'd had once they'd consulted some research material.

"So that's it...? One of us turns into a frog and we just have to sit and wait until the Jedi figure something out?" Fives didn't look happy about it.

Behind him Echo stood as stiff as a board, staring straight at Dogma while chewing on his knuckles. He looked like he was trying to wrap his mind around the absurdity of it all, which was exactly what Dogma himself had been trying to do since he'd woken up like this.

"There's nothing more we can do besides provide our kih'vod with safe housing, and whatever nutrient requirements he needs to meet..." Kix shook his head in defeat, equally as unhappy about the situation as the ARC trooper. "This is some kind of weird Force event... A rare one at that, if they couldn't give us any direct answer."

"Just our luck, right?" Jesse rolled his eyes.

"I trust the generals will do their best to help." Kix continued. "But it could take days, or weeks, or even months until they find something that we could use..."

"Maybe even years..." Sponge added, very gently running a finger up and down the curve of Dogma's back.

The frog trooper shifted uncomfortably and hissed at the unwanted contact, trying to use his back legs to push the obtrusive finger away. Just being held was fine. The petting on the other hand just reminded him of his previous explosive reaction...

"Years?! We don't have years to spare!" Tup cried out in dismay, hands shooting up to grasp at his very tangled hair (he'd likely been tugging on it all day if it wasn't neat and tidy the way he liked it). "There has to be a way to fix Dogma now!"

And how he wished he could vocally agree with his twin right now.

There was not much use for a frog out in the battlefield. He'd just be a burden on them all. A fact that had likely occured to all of them by now. Dogma himself knew this and he was disheartened at the prospect that his condition might take more time to cure than any of them could put into.

Time that even his own lifespan might not allow for. Or maybe it had been shortened? He had no idea how long these things lived.

The point was, he couldn't fight. He was completely and utterly useless to the 501st...

"Lets maybe not be pessimists and instead focus on building Dogma a safe environment..." Pitch grumbled as he set his bucket to dry on his trunk. "I called in a favour from one of my batchmates, Rhythm. He's stationed here on Coruscant as a communications officer and... Well Rhythm's a bit of a social butterfly. He knows a few people."

The others perked up a bit at this, while Dogma remained laying despondently and flat on Sponge's palm. There was no fighting them on the matter and he did not have the energy to do it again. He didn't want to lose control the same way he had before just because he felt like his intelligence was being put into question.

"He said he knows a friend of a friend who's a bit of a frog enthusiast, and that she's more than willing to lend us some stuff." Pitch carried on, looking down at his comm and carefully scrolling through it. "The tank itself, the filtration system, some natural decorations, even a disk-bowl thingy we can attach to it and put mud into, so that he can play in it..."

"Mud? Dogma doesn't like mud..." Tup looked disgusted.

"Who does? It gets everywhere..." Jesse grimaced in equal amounts of disgust. "And it makes cleaning your kit the worst kind of hell..."

"Well I think it's nice!" Hardcase countered with a genuine smile. "Its really good for your skin, you know!"

Everyone, Dogma included, gave the usually hyperactive trooper a look. Of course Hardcase had to be the one to feel contrary today. But then again he'd never once shown any issue with trekking through muddy terrain. Not even while lugging around his bigger blasters.

Free camouflage, he jokingly called it... Dogma really didn't care for any of that mess.

"What? How do you think I maintain this amazing complexion and smoothness of mine?" The heavy weapons specialist raised an eyebrow. "It's not just a good workout routine. You have to treat yourself."

"By rolling around in the mud?" Fives snorted.

"Hey I'm not that cheap! There's like, there's bath-houses that do special spa treatment stuff... And I might have made a lady friend who's really into men in armour..." Hardcase grinned from ear to ear, eyebrows wagging suggestively.

At this, the others shook their heads, rolled theirs eyes, or even whistled and congratulated the hyper clone. Dogma simply glanced up at Sponge hoping his look of disapproval came across. The medic didn't seem to notice.

"Anyway, I can get some mud for our kajil bal gedin'la vod'ika to play in." Hardcase shrugged. "Might do him some good while his skin is so sensitive..."

One thing Dogma had to give them all credit for. For all that the 501st was often a chaotic incomprehensible mess of insubordinate and mischief, they worked well in groups. It took a mere 30 minutes to get everything delivered to them.

Between Pitch and his corrie batchmate getting the supplies from the specialist; Hardcase's sweet talking to whatever natborn masseuse he'd charmed; and then the collective collaborative efforts to build him the karking terrarium?

It gave him almost no time to really think about the fact this might be his life now. Almost. Nothing short of death would keep Dogma from considering every given thing from all angles.

The odds were not stacked in his favour.

"It looks pretty nice actually..." Echo mumbled as he admired the group's handy-work.

It didn't come anywhere near the naturalist look the zoo had managed to accomplish for their own frog enclosure, but it at least looked fairly decent for a first time build. Surely any actual honest to the Force budgett's frog would love living in there. But Dogma was not a real frog, and he was getting the impression the others had forgotten this.

He was afraid his own brain was starting to forget as well...

"The filter is working correctly, the lights are affixed, and we have plenty of places for him to hide in and even some grade A mud from a spa...." Kix looked very pleased. "We've made frog heaven."

"All he needs now is a little frog girlfriend to get that massive stick out of his sh--" Jesse began, only to get slapped on the back of the head by Pitch. "Ow!"

"All he needs now is to eat something." Pitch glared in warning. "He hadn't had anything yet and we're not letting Dogma starve on our watch."

Dogma gulped and pressed himself even flatter against Sponge's palm. He'd briefly seen the jars of feed they'd gotten from Pitch's batchmate's friend. He'd seen the contents moving. He was not looking forward to his very late lunch.

"We should give him something with a good ratio of fat and protein..." Coric spoke up from across the room. He was currently holding a few of the jars, looking at the labels and skimming through the nutritional values.

Twitch was holding two other jars, seeming entranced by the movement in one of them.

"A mealworm would likely be a nice starter..." Coric continued. "It's 15% fat and 20% protein. Some ARCs and ARFs actually eat these out in the field... It's a good boost. It's also a favourite among reptile and amphibian pet owners."

"I don't think he'll like eating something alive..." Tup gulped uneasily as he caught sight of the wriggling worms.

"We have other options, like the pinkies and the pellets, but the holobooks all said frogs very much prefer to eat live prey." Coric shook his head. "The movement stimulates the hunting instinct."

"Then just wiggle the food in front of his face?" Tup frowned.

"Budgett's frogs are aggressive and don't handle hands in front of their faces well." Kix cut in. "The last time I tried to touch him, Dogma tried to bite me, and he did bite Sponge when they took him out of Pitch's bucket."

The frog in question croaked sadly. He hadn't meant to that time. He'd been startled.

"That's why you use thick gloves when handling bitey critters and kih'vode." Sponge pointed out matter-o-factly. "Although I'd trust Dogma not to give me any kind of disease... You lot on the other hand, I have no idea where your mouths have been. Nor do I wish to know."

"Case in point, mealworm it is..." Coric set one of the jars down before beginning to unscrew the other. "Lets feed him now while the filter works its magic... Then we can put him in the tank."

The moment the jar was open and the CMO used some forceps to collect a big fat wriggling worm, the others all began to make gagging disgusted noises at the sight.

Dogma squeaked in displeasure, not wanting to have that horrid thing anywhere near him. But, as Coric began to approach, the transformed trooper couldn't help but to focus on the creepy crawly.

Logically a great part of him was repulsed by the sight... But a smaller yet somehow louder part of him was reacting in a completely different way. His stomach felt emptier than empty, he could feel himself salivate at the sight of the yellow grub, and his body tensed as his brain tried to comprehend what was happening.

The forceps didn't even get to settle in front of him. He practically lunged out of Sponge's hands to clamp down on the wriggling mealworm. His jaws shutting around it with considerable force. The juices spilling down his throat and filling Dogma with an euphoric sort of glee that not even alcohol could provide.

"Karking hells..." Fives gawked as he watched Dogma eat with enraptured gusto. "This whole frog thing's really gotten to him..."

"This isn't right..." Tup sounded horrified. "Dogma would never eat a bug. Especially not... Not like that!"

The frog paused in his delighted gulps to look at Tup in surprise. He didn't expect his twin to sound so disheartened. He also didn't expect to find him in near tears.

The sudden joy he'd experienced evaporated in mere seconds.

"I know this is hard for you Tup..." Kix sighed. "But until we fix this, we have to accept the fact Dogma's changed... And we need to be supportive of his changes."

"Even if it means Dogma isn't behaving like himself." Pitch added.

But he hadn't changed! Not fully at least... He was still himself! Even if his body and these newfound instincts were making him act weird. Even if he was suddenly not averse to eating bugs.

He was still Dogma! Wasn't he?

"Tup..." He wanted his twin to tell him he was still Dogma.

The other didn't even spare him a glance.

"And what if there isn't a way to fix him? Then what?" The overly-emotional trooper asked the medics. "What if they can't fix him and I've lost Dogma all over again?"

"We'll still care for him." Twitch looked at Tup sadly. "It's our duty."

The more he listened them talk, the more Dogma's cracked heart sunk deeper into the recesses of the cold black darkness of his chest cavity.

He was nothing more than a shared responsibility... A Force-damned chore they'd begrudgingly taken on... Tup already considered him a lost cause...

Appetite gone, Dogma laid back down flat on Sponge's palms. The medic took his reaction as a sign of tiredness, if them turning towards the terrarium and slowly setting him down on the pitcher of mud, was anything to go by.

To add insult to injury, the mud didn't even bother him. It felt nice. It felt karking nice to be in the mud. It felt like home.

Tup was right, he was too far gone.

It broke him, having to accept this. That he could no longer perform the duties he was made for. That he couldn't go out in the field with his brothers and protect them in battle. But he'd be damned if he was any more of a burden to the vode as he had been in the last couple of days.

From the moment he rejoined the 501st, to getting sick and then this, he'd been nothing if not an liability to the battalion. Useless in everything he did, no matter how hard he tried. Unwanted and undesirable, now in both personality and appearance. But, even if he was no longer the proud trooper he'd once been, he was still smart enough to know when it was time to leave.

And leaving was the better option.

It'd save the others the trouble of having to look after him. Of having to worry about whether or not he'd eaten, or if the tank needed cleaning. He could still help by staying away.

And if he was stuck as a slimy gross little frog, then maybe he could still make himself useful to someone out there. Even if just for educational purposes for young natborn children.

Mind made up, Dogma nodded to himself as he prepared for a long wait. Once everyone retired to bed he'd be making his escape. It wouldn't be hard to get out of his enclosure, considering none of them had bothered to set up any sort of covering.

And Dogma hoped he was still as good a climber as he used to be.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper dogma #clone medic kix #clone medic coric #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #clone trooper tup #clone trooper hardcase #arc trooper jesse #clone ocs #clone medic sponge #clone medic pitch #clone medic twitch #pitch and rhythm are rogue's ocs #twitch is obviously gaeasun's oc

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 9 months

Text

This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me - a Magnus Archives AU, Chapter Thirteen

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead.

Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe.

His last act as a dying god had been to save them. To buffet them, so the backlash from Jonah’s death slid harmlessly around them and out to the sea. It worked. They lived. Jon laughed and wiped his eyes.

AO3

----------

The fresh scent was confusing because he both knew it and did not. His most recent self had never smelled grass, never even seen it. His old self—the one he’d forgotten—had spent hours lying in it, staining his clothes, reading good books.

He was alive? He couldn’t be alive. Jon sat up.

His body was no longer a child’s. He was dizzied for a moment, too big, too tall, limbs simply too long to control, but then it all stabilized, and he looked around.

He was home.

There was no sun in this part of Somewhere Else. There was bright light, and breeze, and coolness; above him curved a dome of a sky, elliptical like the inside of an eye. He’d done it. Hadn’t he? “Did it work?” he said.

The Eye answered, and suddenly, like peering into a mirror, Jon could see.

Jonah’s tower had come down like a child's toy, and the ocean still lashed with the force of it. It lay in pieces all over, but it didn’t matter. Jon’s gambit had worked. Martin and Sasha and Tim and Mike lived. They all lived.

Jon laughed wildly, tears briefly stealing his view, and he wiped at them so he could see some more.

Of course they lived, came the Eye's thoughts without words. You gave everything. You gave all.

Annabelle had believed they’d die because, without interference, they would have; but Jon knew better. He’d understood at the end: the crown didn't need to break. It needed to be remade, returned, put back in its place as the core of things, as Jon's weird, true love, even as Jonah's grasp failed. Jonah had replaced Jon; and now, Jon replaced Jon... and then gone back home.

Here. Somewhere Else. The other side.

In his sight, Martin sniffled, wiping his face (and Jon could see him from any angle, any direction, could see inside his skull if he wanted, all the blood vessels, everything). “We’ve got to find him.”

“I’m telling you,” Mike said. “I saw him explode into sparkles. He’s gone.”

Jon. They were talking about Jon.

“But what happened?”

Sasha sighed. “I think the only person with that answer would have been Annabelle.”

Sasha was correct.

Martin covered his face, shoulders shaking with sobs. (And oh, Jon missed him, but he was alive, and Jon could be happy for that.)

Tim held him. “I don’t know,” he said. “I feel like we were side characters, you know? I think we were just… incidental to all of this.”

Tim was mistaken. They were everything to Jon. He’d done it all for them, and he had no regrets.

“I don’t believe it,” said Martin, wiping his face. “I know we weren’t incidental. We just… it wasn’t our choices, maybe, that made this happen.”

“I think it was,” said Sasha, slowly. “I think… when we were kind to that boy, something important happened.” They all looked at her. Sasha shrugged. “I just feel it.”

Sasha was correct.

“But we… I don’t feel the same,” said Tim. “I still don’t understand what he did.”

“It’s changed, somehow,” said Sasha. “Almost like the End isn’t in control anymore. I don’t know what else. Maybe it—”

Mike cried out. “Guys! You’ve got to see this!”

They all hurried over.

The desiccated corpse of Jonah Magnus stared up at them in a black fur ruff and jewels, half-buried in rubble, lips pulled back from teeth, eyes long gone.

“Oh, gross!” cried Martin.

“He really did it,” said Tim, softly. “Jon did it. Somehow, he freed us.”

“I told you,” said Mike. “I don’t feel Oliver anymore, either.”

Where was Oliver? Jon chose to see.

Oliver’s body was in the same shape as Jonah’s, with one exception: he actually looked happy. His hands were folded over his chest; he’d found his peace.

So, likely, both Oliver and Jonah were here, too, Somewhere Else, on the other side. Well; Jon wasn’t going to look for them. The place was unaccountably vast. If he happened to run into one or the other, it’d be strange, but he’d manage. He might try to punch Jonah out, though, assuming one could do that to dead people.

Jon looked back to his favorite persons. At his loves. (He missed Martin, but Martin had a second chance, and Jon would not take that from him.)

“What do we do now?” said Tim.

They were all silent for a moment.

“Rebuild?” said Sasha. “If you’re right, and we’re free, then… nobody has to die at thirty. That has a lot of implications for commerce and resources.”

“Alas, I am to be old and ugly,” said Tim, dramatically pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.

Martin managed a weak laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re not a vampire,” said Tim. “Teeth.”

Martin felt with his tongue, then his fingers. Slowly, he reached up, and took his green glasses off. Blinking rapidly, he stared around the world like a newborn.

Tim stared at his hand, then at the ground. “I don’t have any power.”

“Me, neither,” said Sasha. “We… we’re free.” And suddenly, she was laughing. “We’re free!”

Martin joined her, half-sobbing. Tim leaned in, arms around them both, and the three made wild noises together, laughing and crying, disbelieving and amazed, and clung to one another and were each other’s foundation.

Mike stood by, awkwardly, for all of a moment; then Tim grabbed him and pulled him in, too.

That felt good to see.

Welcome home, came the feeling from the Eye. This was what it had always wanted: Jon to itself.

Jon missed his friends, but they were alive. And… he thought they might manage to be happy. That was why he’d done all of it. That was why he’d given his heart to Jonah Magnus; and that, in the end, was why he’d taken it back.

“What a misadventure that was,” said Jon.

“It was,” said Annabelle, and Jon startled and looked down.

The spider looked up at him, somehow giving the impression of sitting back on her haunches and twiddling non-existence thumbs.

“I forgot about you,” said Jon.

“I know,” she said drily. “I told you you would.”

And Jon remembered making this plan before he’d been reborn, working out the details and risks, and remembered her saying, You won’t remember me, and him vowing that he would. Oops. “Well, I remember you now,” he said.

She laughed.

Jon looked at his favorite people again.

Martin was turning his head back and forth, kissing wetness off the cheeks of his friends, kissing everybody. All four of them were leaning in, clutching; intimate. They were going to be happy.

Jon took a look at London.

The Fingers had all dropped dead where they were, power cut off. People were stepping out of houses, staring up at the sky in wonder; they felt they were free. They were afraid. That was to be expected. But they could be happy, too. They had a chance, now. And Jon…

Jon would get to watch. “Does that make me creepy?” he muttered.

“No more than a mirror is creepy for reflecting what it sees.” Annabelle climbed up his shoulder and perched there. “Besides, you get to see more than this.”

He smiled. “I do, don’t I?”

“A lot more.”

Somewhere Else was vast. Whole worlds were here, whole lost civilizations. He would never run out of things to see.

“I still don’t understand how they didn’t die,” said Annabelle. “Don’t misunderstand me—I’m glad; but I don’t quite get it.”

“So I surprised you.”

“You did,” she said primly.

Jon laughed. “I surprised you! Ha!”

She made embarrassed spider movements.

Jon looked left and right. The weather was perfect, just on the side of cool, combined with the not-sunlight, perfect for walking. Smoke rose over the distant hill. “There’s something over there,” Jon said in soft wonder. “Some kind of… city, built from memories and dreams.”

“Do we go toward it, or avoid?”

Annabelle always let Jon choose. Jon was free, after all. Everyone was free. There were no webs here. His marionette strings had been burned away. “I need to see what’s over that hill,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I did to save them on the way.”

“Let’s.”

Let’s, said the Eye, who probably knew what was there already, but enjoyed watching it all through him.

Jon stood, stretching. It felt so good to be back in his proper body. Being fourteen and starved had not been fun. In the back of his head, Martin laughed, and so did Sasha, and Tim, and Mike. Jon smiled, breathed deep of the perfect air, and walked toward whatever mystery lay beyond the next hill.

#rusty quill big bang #rusty quill big bang 2023 #rqbb2023 #tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #magpod #magnuspod #tma au #the magnus archives au #tma spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #jonah magnus #annabelle cane #tim stoker #this dark thing that sleeps in me

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