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aurora-the-kunoichi · 3 years

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For the Love of Shell - Chapter Forty Six - Halloween Festivities

Another chapter for you to snack on!

Here it is in its entirety.

HALLOWEEN FESTIVITES

It had taken Donnie close to two weeks of hacking and snooping the government database to find out who and what that strange man was about. He was the head of a secret agency funded by the US Government called The Earth Protection Force or E.P.F for short and went by the name John Bishop.

Unfortunately there wasn’t much on Bishop’s past but from the looks of his training and connections he wasn’t someone to cross.

Leo leaned against Donatello’s desk, his arms crossed over his chest deep in thought. He had been watching his genius brother search through pages upon pages of tedious government documents trying to learn more about this new threat. They were aware of their existence even before they saw them. Bishop said something about a little birdie chirping in his ear about them, who could that be? Was it possible one of the police officers that had assisted them with taking down Krang informed the government about them? Rebecca had assured them their secret was safe.

His name being called broke him from his thoughts and Leo looked down at Donnie still parked in his chair. “What is it Don?”

“Do you think if they got a hold of us they would really dissect us?” his younger brother’s voice wavered with the horrid thought of being strapped down to a metal table cut and apart like a lab rat.

Leo’s large hand rested gently on his younger brother’s shoulder giving it a quick reassuring squeeze, “I would never let anyone dissect any of you. I would die before I would let that happen.” The vile images that raced through Leo’s mind of his dead brothers in pieces made his stomach churn making him feel sick to his stomach. It was true though, he would lay down his life in a second to save his brothers and die defending them to his very last breath.

Looking up from Donnie’s brown eyes Leo saw Mikey and Raph saunter in towards the Leader and the genius. The sly smile on Michelangelo’s face put Leo on edge, the youngest had something up his sleeve and was ready to test is sway with his eldest brother.

Reaching Leo, Mikey swung his arm up and over his shoulder pulling the blue leader to his side.

“What do you want Mikey?” Leo sighed allowing the brotherly embrace.

“Do you know what today is oh brother of mine?” Mikey cooed playfully slapping his palm against the hard plates of Leonardo’s plastron.

“It’s October 31st Mike.”

“Yeah Brah, its Halloween and we wanna go out and enjoy the parade. We never get to go out and do anything fun.”

Leo let out a heavy sigh shaking his head, “Mikey, I told you before, we’re ninja and we stay in the shadows. Going topside isn’t a smart idea.”

Raphael moved next to his younger brother and tilted his head eyeing Leo, “We know what we are fearless and we know we don’t belong on the streets. But today is the only day in the year we get to experience walking around with the humans unnoticed and safe. I think after all we’ve dealt with lately I think we deserve to go have a little fun topside.”

Before Leo could reply the voice of their Sensei interjected stopping the conversation. “My sons, you are right, you have been so dedicated to the safety of this city that you have not been able to enjoy the spoils of your hard work. Halloween is the only day you can go up into the streets with no fear of hatred for your appearance or fear of scrutiny of your mutation. Please take this day to enjoy yourselves and unwind. Interact with the outside world but please be careful.”

Leo and his brothers stared wide eyed at their aging father. He had just given them permission to go topside and enjoy Halloween. For the first time ever!

“Besides.” The old rat continued. “You are old enough to make your own decisions and able to care for your own safety. Who am I to keep you from your destiny?”

The atmosphere in the lair exploded as Raph and Mikey jumped into the air in excitement high threeing each other. Mikey turned to his genius brother beaming from his large skateboard chair and slide to his side smacking him on the back of his shell.

“Tell them about that party you heard about Donnie. Maybe we could go there for a bit. Didn’t it say there would be food?” Mikey turned Donnie’s chair to face his other brothers who were now looking at him awaiting a response.

“What’s he talkin about Donnie?” Raph quipped picking up a small trinket from Donnie’s desk flipping it over and over in his oversized palm.

“I follow a local neighborhood watch blog and I guess someone bought that old church on the edge of town that’s been abandoned for years for a dollar. You know the one, the one built in the early 1800’s with all the missing windows? It’s been in shambles from all the vandalism over the years. They have been remodeling it for the past year and finally finished a few weeks ago. They’re holding a neighborhood Halloween party for all the people in the neighborhood. There had been so many people stopping by during the construction to see what was going on, the owner thought it would be nice to let everyone see the work done to restore the old church. Supposedly there will be food too, which is what caught Mikey’s attention a week ago.”

Mikey took out a lone nunchaku and spun it in his wrist circling Leonardo; he could tell by the confused look on his brother’s face he couldn’t remember the place. “You know that old church we used to play in when Master Splinter went to bed, we’d sneak out and play around swinging in the open rafters and hurtling the old pews.”

Suddenly Mikey stopped in his tracks the blood in his veins running cold, he realized what he had just confessed in front of their father. Something he did not know about their past.

“Mikey.” Raph growled in frustration resting his large head in his hands.

With a grimace across his face Mikey slowly turned his head to face his father, dreading the death glare from the feisty old rat. The amused look on the rat took him by surprise, he wasn’t angry?

Splinter watched his sons faces as they glared at their youngest brother then trained their gaze to their father to see how upset he was. When all their attention was on him he began to laugh, a good belly laugh he hadn’t managed to have in quite some time. “My sons you were only 6 years old when you started to venture out on your own. Your ninja skills were barely even tapped yet, so I heard you four leave each time. Instead of punishing your natural inquisitiveness for the outside world I just followed close behind to make sure you were safe. You boys will have hardships around every corner as you continue to age, who was I to stop you exploring your city. The more you got comfortable with your surroundings the more you could protect yourself; learn faster ways to get home. It was a very tiring time though, making sure I heard you each time, so I could supervise. Not a lot sleep when you were curious toddlers. But it did help your confidence and your bond with each other. You knew you had to rely on each other to get back home safely.”

Their tense bodies relaxed as their father confessed he knew they had gone topside when they were younger. It was a secret they had promised not to tell anyone just in case it would get back to their father. As it turned out he knew the entire time and had followed them on each adventure.

Leo let out a shaky breath realizing the wrath of his father would not come. A large bullet had been dodged and a small weight of the lie was lifted. “Yes, I know which church you’re talking about now. Yeah, I wouldn’t see why not, could be fun seeing the old place redone.” Leo scratched his chin contemplating their route; if they were going up to the streets they needed some sort of plan before they headed out just in case they got lost in the crowd. They still needed to be careful even though this was a leisurely outing. There was always a chance of running into some Purple Dragons at Halloween.

To their surprise and delight it wasn’t difficult to get into the parade. With their great “costumes” they were pulled into the sea of people by several hands congratulating them on the detail of their work. At one point people on a parade float had tried to coax them up and onto the decorated trailer. Politely declining they moved back away from the reaching hands. That would expose them more than they already were. Thankfully their ninja skills had helped them mange to avoid any cameras as well.

It was nice getting to know people, conversating and mingling with their fellow New Yorkers. There were no screams or flying insults, just random high fives and praises.

“So life like!” One woman squealed running her hands over Raphael’s forearm excitedly and pressing down on his skin to feel the dense muscles beneath. “It feels like real scales; how did you do that?!”

The red brute smirked when her wandering hands tried to encircle the impossible mass of his biceps. He allowed her hands to travel farther up to his neck, her touches giving his green skin a rush of goose bumps. “These hands are pure talent sweetheart in more ways than one.” He cooed seductively stepping into her personal space getting lost in the attention.

Leo watched the exchange and figured it was a good time to pry the beast away from his prey before he sunk his teeth in too far. “Come on lover boy, let’s get moving before you bite off more than you can chew.” His hand hooked around the back of the brutes harness and started to pull him away from the unsuspecting female.

The woman grew disappointed when Raphael was pulled from her groping fingers, “Come back! He’s fine, I like it rough!” She called after the retreating terrapins.

“Damn Raph, you attracted the girls real quick.” Mikey laughed giving a quick glance over his shoulder at the sad woman they had just left behind.

Raphael turned abruptly ripping his harness from his older brother’s tight grasp and hissed in frustration. “Damn fearless, why you gotta cock block a brother.”

“What were you gonna do Raph when she found that ‘costume’ doesn’t come off? When you got back to her apartment for a few fun evening activities?” Leo laughed as he moved around a poorly designed SpongeBob costume.

“You never know Leo; she could have been cool with fucking a mutant turtle? Aurora can’t be the only woman who’s willing to spread her legs for mutant dick?”

The comment made the leader stop in his tracks and the dense muscles in his neck bunch painfully. Slowly he turned to face his brother and the expression Raph was expecting was nowhere close to the look on the leader’s face. Pain swirled in the blue orbs of his eldest brother making Raph instantly regret the remark.

“I-I’m sorry Leo, that was disrespectful to Aurora.”

Leos’ eyes lowered to the city streets contemplating something and gave his muscled brother one final glare before returning his attention back to the mass of people in the parade.

Donnie came up to the ashamed brother and nudged his shoulder gaining his interest, “You know you’re not wrong Raph. Statistically speaking there are plenty of woman out there who would be willing to bed us. There is a huge following of people online calling themselves ‘Furries’ and ‘Scalies’ that would prefer our unusual body types and larger…….physiques to normal human beings.”

With a deep rolling laughter Raphael patted his genius brothers shell, “Thanks Don, I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m on the net.”

As the parade came to a close they parted from the bustling crowd and headed towards the remodeled church that was holding the public house warming party. The walk was short but the anticipation for their first real party was staggering.

Just as they remembered, the old church was surrounded by a large brick wall that towered even over them, perhaps 15 feet tall. It would require scaling it they needed to get over its walls. The old cast iron door they was barely holding onto its hinges was replaced by a massive wood and iron door. Its structure looked sound and secure not like the rickety old gates. This was built to withstand some heavy pounding and privacy.

As they passed through the new protective doors they gazed up at the newly restored stained glass windows, marveling at the colors. When they were kids they remembered several kids throwing rocks at the beautiful glass shattering the window to smithereens. It was good to see them intact and cleaned for once; they seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.

The once broken and uneven stairway up to the main door had been removed and replaced by fresh concrete and a new wood and iron hand rail. Gone were the tags from gang members and inconsiderate kids who defiled the old brick work on the outside of the ancient building. Someone had spent hours power washing the outside to rid the grey stone of the canned paint.

Reaching the top of the stairs the old wooden doors that had been long torn from their hinges had been replaced by new metal doors. About half way up the thick doors were matching stained glass windows just above their eye line to complete the look of the exterior.

Donnie pointed to the almost invisible camera just to the left of the large front door, noting the advanced security system that protected the property. “So far I’m impressed, the tech is high end, like nearly impossible to hack and the outside is wonderfully redone. Even the shrubbery is trimmed and lush.”

Raph’s large thick fingers wrapped around the elaborate handle and opened the door revealing the newly converted sanctuary. After all the years of abuse most of the pews had been burned or stolen so it wasn’t too much of a shock seeing the rows of benches gone. All of the religious relics were long gone as well; even the large wooden statue of Jesus that had hung above the pulpit had been taken years ago.

The large spacious vaulted ceilings were repaired and refinished leaving no trace of the old roof’s leaks to see. At the back of the sanctuary was a huge circle stained glass window that sat high above the pulpit. It had been shattered long before they found the old building when they were tots so they never saw the vibrant colors inside the window. Now inside the round window sat a beautifully crafted piece of art, each little different colored piece of glass formed a dahlia flower. The large center piece was outlined with more flowers and stars with a background that transitioned from light blue to dark.

Below the circle stained glass window was a large flat screen TV hanging from the wall with an oversized u-shaped couch just before it. Already people were sitting on it mingling and having conversations while snacking on plates of food.

The atmosphere was friendly and inviting and almost immediately people began to introduce themselves commenting on their ‘costumes’. That was when the aroma of delicious smelling food invaded their senses. Mikey was the first to grumble and turned towards the large kitchen sitting to the left, open to the expansive room of the old sanctuary. Atop the counters along with another large island covered in white quarts sat a plethora of foods and desserts.

Mikey wasted no time and made a beeline for the kitchen and the foods followed by Raph and Donnie. Leo kept his attention on the transformation of the old church. They had never seen the space so lit up besides the beams from their flashlights. It was nice to see the old church fixed up and ready for its new life.

Leo left his brothers to pillage the refreshments and continued down a wide hallway to look at more of the house. A bright sign with bold lettering was sitting on a stand just at the opening.

“Please feel free to roam about the house. If the door is open you are welcome inside, but if the door is closed please respect the privacy of the home owner and remain outside.”

Continuing down the wide hallway he peaked through each room that was open. The first room on the right was the old Library, it looked like it had been restored to its former glory. All of the busted shelves were whole and matching the rest of the wood perfectly. You wouldn’t have been able to tell of the previous vandalism which was nice, there had been too many swastikas lining the floor.

Shelves took up every inch of space on the walls, from floor to ceiling it towered. Almost every inch of space was lined with books ranging from what looked like ancient to new. Colors splashed the shelves from their spines like an abstract painting making his fingers inch to pull a book from its home to read. They had their own library but nothing this expansive. His eyes and finger tips roamed over some of the spines and grew a bit envious at the rare books he only dreamed of reading. Some of them were ancient books from Japan dating back almost 200 years, he wondered if they should be in a museum not sitting freely on someone’s bookcase.

Resisting the rising urge to pull a book from the shelve and take a spot on one of the lush chairs Leonardo took his leave and headed back out into the hallway. With a quick look the blue banded terrapin found his brothers hovering over the food thoroughly stuffing their faces. With a crooked grin he turned back and continued his tour of the renovated church.

As Donnie and Raphael moved away from the refreshments Mikey stayed behind sampling a tray of fancy cheeses. This was a great opportunity to try different cheeses together to better his pizza making skills. Where else would be get chance to sample so many cheeses at once…for free?

Putting a slice of munster and gouda on top of each other Mikey slid the concoction between his lips and found very unpleasantly the two did not mix. While his face was scrunched up from the awful taste the person behind the counter who had been diligently working to prepare a new snack turned around and nearly dropped the tray in their hands.

Mikey’s hand moved over his mouth as he hurriedly tried to finish off the taste on his tongue, “I’m sorry.” He mumbled quietly before popping a strawberry in his mouth to mask the flavor. “Munster and gouda do not mix. Mistakes were made. Blerg….”

The woman in what was a phantom of the opera costume set the plate of what looked like pizza pinwheels down next to the veggie tray and stepped back. She smelled of freshly baked breads and sweets, it was comforting and made his stomach grumble for more. Mikey ignored her unsure gaze and swiped up a pinwheel to pop it in his mouth.

“Wait!” she cried out reaching for him as the pastry disappeared behind his teeth. “It’s still hot!”

She was undoubtedly right; he could have sworn he heard the flesh on his tongue sizzle at the treat settled on the wiggling appendage. But instead of spitting it out Mikey huffed around the burning deliciousness trying his best to cool the food down and not drool all over himself. In and out he sucked in air desperately trying to bring the temp down. After a few minutes of rolling the burning dough around on his tongue it was finally cool enough to swallow. Mikey took a swig of his punch to sooth his throbbing tongue and eyed the now giggling woman.

“Are you alright?”

Sticking the tip of his tongue out he nodded, “I no longer have skin on my tongue but you know I’ll live drinking the rest of my meals through a straw.”

She mumbled something under her breath but Mikey couldn’t make it out.

“What was that?”

“Ohh oh nothing, just talking to myself really.” The woman stepped back and leaned up against the counter, “So that’s a pretty elaborate costume you got there.” Her finger waged up and down alluding to his massive shell and green skin. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were a living breathing turtle man.”

“Nope.” Mikey coughed popping a piece of cool broccoli in his mouth. “All foam and plastic. Can you imagine a giant turtle living in New York. Where would something like that live?”

“The sewer?” she calmly remarked. “I can imagine there are a never ending slew of tunnels under us with abandoned train stations perfect for subterranean housing?”

Mikey reached for a chicken salad sandwich and paused. “Don’t you think it would smell down there?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad down there.”

“How would you know?” His baby blues rose in surprise but found the woman gone and another plate of pizza pin wheels in front of him. “Hmmmm.”

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Leonardo made his way down the hallway and found a bathroom, two extraordinarily large empty rooms but only encountered two closed doors. At the end of the hallway there were two large French doors open wide to a giant roaring fire. Taking his time to reach the large room he noticed an open set of stairs leading to the second floor to the old structure. Making a detour he began scaling the old wooden stair case noting the restored finish and carpentry work.

His hefty green hand ran over the handy work with each unhurried step taking in the detailed craftsmanship. At the first landing there was another partial stained glass window that had been restored like the others along with a built in bench. Stopping to peer out Leonardo found a beautiful fresh garden with a massive water feature just below. The water poured out freely from a fountain that contained four large turtles perched on top of each other playfully. What a usual choice of animal for a fountain he thought in the back of his mind making his way up the last flight of stairs to the second floor.

At the landing Leo found the master bedroom just to the right. Like the large room below it had two ornate doors leading into a massive room and a large fireplace in the same spot as the first floor. Looking up he saw the only original stained glass window left sitting high on the wall. A massive circle with the virgin Mary holding a baby Jesus, the array of colors was stunning and as the moonlight filtered through the colored glass it left beautiful streaks of color on the white linen of the king size bed just below.

A flair of jealously sparked through the leaders mind, to be human to be able to live above ground with such luxuries like windows and clean linen that didn’t smell like the dank sewer systems. To finally be able to sun themselves in the sunlight, would be a treat in itself. His fingers ran over the soft fabric and pressed down on the mattress enjoying the textures against his skin.

He wandered around the room for a bit and ventured into the bathroom, his blue eyes wandered to the very large tiled shower and massive soaking tub. The tub alone looked like it could fit him and his shell plus another person comfortably inside. Taking his phone out Leo took a quick picture to show Donnie. What an improvement to the lair it would be to be able to actually have a tub large enough for them to immerse completely in, shell in all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raphael made his way through the open doors of the first floor, until he found the giant study in the back with a massive warm crackling fire in the gigantic hollow of the room’s main focal point. It radiated a welcoming heat helping the chill from the night’s air melt from his scaled skin. Looking around Raphael remembered most of the walls in this church had been crumbling stone. There had been small holes in the structure as time ate away at the history of the building. Now all the walls had been repaired and covered with sheet rock and no doubt insulated property for New York’s winters.

He walked around the room running his finger tips over the antique wooden desk when a voice came from behind him.

“And there was two.”

Spinning around her found a woman leaning up against the thick trim of the open doorway dressed as a female phantom of the opera. She was dressed in a nice fitting tux with a large flowing red cap, a black brimmed hat covered her hair and a white mask that covered more than half of her face. He vaguely remembered seeing the woman working in the kitchen putting out fresh food for the guests. Maybe she was the host?

Resting his backside on the edge of the desk Raphael kept his sights on the woman as she moved forward into the room, “Yeah I’m here with my brothers. If you see two more less attractive pretend turtles they be them.”

“Brothers?” She cooed. “Are you all as handsome? And who is the talent behind these amazing costumes?”

He watched her shift close fingers trailing along the crevasses of Raph’s muscled bicep. As she passed by he could smell bread and sugar, the woman had been baking all day for the scent to cling her to her like that. A hint of pizza accompanied the delicious smell as well making him suddenly hungry.

Raph was ecstatic Fearless wasn’t there, he may not get to take anyone home but by the way the woman was circling him like a vulture he was more than happy to offer up a small meal to the woman. He deserved a little action. Besides it had been a while since he had kissed a woman and Raph very much missed the taste of her even if it was brief. “Yeah we’re blessed, but you’re lookin at the cream of this crop lady. It don’t get any better than this.” His arms opened flexing his muscles putting on a show for the enthralled female.

The woman stopped a few feet in front of him and smiled, “Impressive. What brings you guys to the open house and not out winning some costume contest? You could win top dollar looking like that. Not that I’m complaining about the position I’m in.” closer she moved resting her hands on his thighs.

The lowered lights and flickering flames from the fire crackling in the background made it difficult to see her eyes but one thing was for sure, she was definitely eye fucking him. The signal couldn’t have been clearer. Raphael leaned back spreading his legs which shifted her fingers higher on his thick thighs, “You’re just lucky I guess.”

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As he finished his solo tour on the second floor Leonardo found three more empty bedrooms along with their own en suites with equally large shower stalls and soaking tubs. Each room even had their own fireplaces, most likely for heating the rooms back in the day when electricity wasn’t widely available. Exiting from the last room he saw Mikey and Donnie leaving the master bedroom still munching on hors d’oeuvres.

“I can’t believe you did that Mike!” Don growled giving his younger brother a smack on the back of his carapace.

Mikey gave an indignant huff and shrugged his broad shoulders, “What? I wanted to see if I could get in the tub. Don we need one of those in the lair, I think Leo would love to take baths in the winter.”

“Please tell me you didn’t let him get in the tub.”

Both stopped in their tracks and found Leonardo standing just down the hall from them, his thick arms folded over his chest in frustration.

Mikey popped the last of his mini slider into his mouth and smiled sticky sweet to his older brother. “Omf corsh nomf ((swallows)) why would I crawl into a complete strangers tub to see if our shells would fit inside? I mean who would be that crazy and rude? You have such little faith in me brah.”

“Of course he did,” Donnie cut in dryly. “Had to swat his hands away from the faucet to keep him from filling it up for a ‘test run’.”

“Mikey.” Leo’s voice was low and threatening in its authority wiping the smirk right from the younger turtle’s face instantly.

With one stern gesture from their fearless leader all three mutants headed back down to the main floor. Without a word Leonardo felt himself pulled subconsciously into the large room with the fireplace just to the right of the staircase, as if it called to him.

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With delight Raphael allowed the enthusiastic woman to crawl into his lap straddling his powerful legs. Now with her so close the bread smell gave way to a familiar smell, the smell of a woman and her arousal. It was thick and clouded his senses as she leaned in, mask still covering her face. His large hands found her waist but didn’t stop her from advancing further.

“God you smell amazing, it’s been too long Red.” And with that she leaned forward slanting her mouth over the brute’s beak claiming a kiss.

The familiar taste flooded his senses and Raphael reacted gripping her tighter. His tongue pressed into her mouth plundering the warmth groaning as she whimpered softly grabbing his cheeks with her hands.

“Fuck.” He moaned breathlessly between each engage of their lips.

As their mouths connected Leo, Donnie and Mikey walked in on the pair stopping in their tracks. They watched Raphael’s enthusiasm skyrocket as the kissed deepened. Both large arms wrapped around the woman pulling her impossibly close returning the kiss with everything he was.

Raphael’s large mitt ran up the back of her neck and ripped the black hat from her head and locks of blonde were wound up in his green fingers. Mouth open and dumbfounded the three brothers could hear his rumblings over the fire. Raphael was clinging to the mysterious woman like she was a life line.

“Hey it’s the snack lady!” Mikey pointed out breaking the spell around the two entangled on the desk.

The woman slowed their kiss and disengaged from the brute and the massive turtle slumped down on the desk panting with a punch drunk look on his face; lips still glistening from their activities. One hand reached to her cheek under the mask cupping the right side of her face lovingly.

Slowly she reached for the mask covering her face and slipped it free. There perched above the content brute was Aurora. Her violet eyes met with all three brothers and grinned. “Welcome to my home boys.”

@imthegreenfairy88 @tmntspidergirl @ravn-87 @alonia143 @blossom-skies @tmnt-bucklover

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michaelangelo #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fandom #tmnt fic #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #Fortheloveofshell #chapter 46 #Halloween festivities

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helenofsimblr · 3 years

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He pulled out his phone and dialled the only person that had been even remotely honest with him, the woman in the mask. Only she could be relied upon, and he didn’t even trust her much as it stands… The phone rang and then she answered… She sounded annoyed and irritated at the interruption. Apex could hear someone struggling to breathe through the phone, “What? I am busy.”

Apex: Fidda, It's me, it won’t take long.”

Fidda sounded extremely annoyed at the use of her name

Fidda: Speak Creature. What do you want?

Apex: I’m a clone, you knew all along didn’t you, you and Van Duson!?

Fidda *chuckling*: Yes. I did Creature. I did not want you to be created, but Van Duson believed he could control you. Now, I’ve grown rather dissatisfied with him, but you have entertained me in your discoveries. You have yet to answer the question Creature...

Apex: I’m getting to that, I know who I am… a copy of… and I’ve got an idea. I’m going to first kill Van Duson, so you’ll have to start interviewing applicants for his post, and second, I’m going to use what I am, and I am going to kill every single living thing human and monster, in this District. With Bob Robinson’s body, I can access that space station and I’m going to drop it… right on this city. There won’t be a speck of life anywhere!

Fidda *intrigued*: Came up with this all by yourself, eh Creature? Or were you reading a Chapter of that horrid book the humans like… where Gods drop fire and brimstone down on the masses who are just having a bit of fun.

Apex: Don’t reinvent the wheel, Fidda, imitation is after all the sincerest form of flattery. I just have a few minor errands to address first. And since the bloodsuckers and freaks all seem to all have retreated into a hole somewhere, there’s no harm in me taking a few hours off I think.

If Apex could see her face, he would see that slight smile that brought curiosity to the surface of his mind

Fidda: Very well Creature. I will pull out anyone I deem useful and you may do whatever you wish to the city. It’s a waste of space, we can put up a new Order city after you’ve levelled it.

Apex: There’s nobody here who can stop me, and anybody who tries, will die. Tomorrow… will be a new beginning where these pathetic humans, and disgusting animals are all gone. It will be beautiful.

Fidda: That is acceptable… and Creature, do make Van Duson suffer. I despise it when lesser beings disobey me.

Apex: I will fracture his limbs, and then I will break his neck… or smash his head open like I did that vampire, I haven’t decided yet, oh and Fidda… when this is over, I want to fuck again. That fine?

Fidda: Provide me with some glorious destruction and I will provide you with more glorious fucking. It’s an even trade, I think.

Apex: It shall be done. Goodbye.

Apex hung up and put the phone in his pocket, now all he needed was a plan, but first… Van Duson or Lyra… he’d make his mind up over another coffee, he quite liked Coffee after all.

Fidda hung up the phone, she snapped the neck of the person who she’d been angry with a flick of her wrist. She was actually happy for a moment. Impressed even at the Creature’s ability to become something more than just a beast of burden.

She stepped over the corpse and grabbed the very small amount of belongings she kept. She left the building without saying a word to anyone. They were all worthless.

As she flew away, she was thinking of a good spot to watch the oncoming destruction and the thoughts of the after party were already warming her nethers.

#ts4 #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 story #The Tomorrow Men #KSU #sparkiekong #tw: swearing #tw violence #tw death #collab

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ask-flip-frost · 4 years

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Day 7: Gruesome

Nobody wanted the Winchester route. That much was a fact. When Flip had been setting up the schedules for the upcoming week, she knew that it was impossible not to put it on task, though. She was going to have to suck it up. Silt was getting too old to handle the energy output it would take, and Slope wasn't much use in their case because he was already partially Turned as it was. No chance at trusting a job like this to the temps. No matter how much the Sprite hemmed and hawed over the ramifications of letting them stew a little longer, it would always be difficult to steel herself for what it took to do a brain clearing of that magnitude. No sense in putting it off. For most Humans, even particularly disturbed ones, a Nightmare cleansing was no big thing to fuss over. Repeated dippings into billions of minds left an effect like a trickling water torture over time, but delving into the brains of creatures who held residence in Hell for extended periods was akin to being waterboarded with liquid rage and despair. Sam and Dean Winchester were buckets. They had need to be emptied periodically or they'd go mad and take a huge chunk of the world with them.

No avoiding it. With a resigned chirp, Flip closed her twinkling work ledger and opened a Portal for that evening's route to begin.

Dean Winchester snorted loudly, jolted from the deepest sleep he'd managed to curl up to in months by a light too bright to ignore. His personal quarters in the bunker had been flooded in the halo effect of an artificial bulb on his bedside table.

"Dammit, Sammy!" the man groused into his pillow. "I'm not goin' on a stupid jog. I told you. Go away."

"Did you know that butterflies can taste with their feet?" a very NOT Sam voice asked conversationally. "I thought that very odd, but THEN I found out that Humans can do it, too! Not with everything, but garlic can be rubbed on your foot, and because of the allicin in it, it gets into your bloodstream from the oil and water properties it has. Travels all the way to your mouth and nose. Incredible, ne?"

An annoyed glance was fired over Dean's shoulder at the Fairy on his nightstand, but the effect seemed lost on her. He'd met her very briefly before on sparse occasions, but someone who was barely an acquaintance had no business being in the Men of Letters bunker. No matter who she was bumping wings with.

"But that's not what we're here to talk about. Nay. Today, kids, we're talking about our FEELINGS, and how repressing can-"

"I'm fine, twinkle toes. Now get outta my room." Dean cut her off and scrubbed his palms over his tired eyes before reaching out blindly for the light switch. "Go peddle your emotional wack-a-doo shtick on someone else."

"Fine? That's a very abstract interpretation of what you are, I assure you. And I'm not in your room. You're in mine." Flip corrected, arms akimbo as she rocked on her heels knowingly.

"The hell are you talking about? My bed. My lamp. My-"

"Window?" Flip interrupted, gesturing to a medium box window with purple blackout curtains.

There were no windows in his real bedroom. A moment of slow growing denial passed before Dean rolled up off the bed, pillow gun at the ready, and jerked the curtains wide.

Outside was a sulfurus landscape, parched and cracked with forlorn wishes of moisture. Great hairless beasts with gouged sockets snuffled the dust, blood and pus oozing from their disfigured maws. A symphony of screams echoed in the distance. Dean knew those screams. He'd lived them. He'd given and received them. They must have been on an outer rim of a torture circle, as you could not directly witness the seas of agony. A clap of deepest thunder triggered a jerking sense memory lurching in the recesses of his chest. Meat hooks and chains, whips and knives and whimpering taunts and burning and-

"Dean... close the curtains."

Brought back to the moment, Dean's white knuckle grip on the curtain fabric loosened. He tugged the window dressings shut, but didn't dare turn away, lest the horrid creatures crash in to take him by surprise. He was back. Had he died in his sleep? Was it that apnea thing he kept hearing about? Sam complained about him snoring sometimes, so... maybe? He didn't remember getting hurt or sick. What was going to happen when Sam found his body?

"You're not dead. Not today. You can come away from there, I promise they can't get in." Flip waved him closer. "We don't have a lot of time to talk, but it's important that we do."

Never one to take things at face value, the eldest Winchester kept his eyes locked on the window.

"Where am I?" he demanded.

"Right now, you and I are in a pretty little safe space in your dirty little mind."

"...I'm asleep. And you're brain-invading." Dean worked it out and lowered his gun. "Not cool."

"You're sleeping, I'm working. Usually I don't make myself known because it's a pain in my glittering ass to make a prolonged stop in anyone's mind, but yours takes some time to clear out anyway, so why not have a chat?" Flip shrugged. "A captive audience. All that."

Dean groaned and tucked his gun away. Why couldn't he even dream without being nagged? Too many people knew how to push into his thoughts, and it pissed him off to a special degree that he couldn't even have autonomy of his own brain to keep them out. Was he going to have to keep getting warding tatoos or bone carvings until his entire body was a graffiti wall just for a little time to himself?

"Fine. What do you want?"

Flip blinked. It wasn't obvious, she supposed. One little talon pointed to the window.

"Do you know what that is?" she returned a question with a question.

"Hell. A memory of Hell that I'm dreaming about, I dunno." Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the ceiling in annoyance. "You wanted to see what Hell looks like, is that it? That's why you're here?"

"I've seen it. I don't need to look at a memory for a reminder. So no. That," she pointed again. "Is trauma manifesting as a bad memory. Nightmares Creatures feed on good Dreams, and are drawn to people with an excess of Gloom. Gloom is a residue that can't be seen by the Human eye, and it's my job to scrub it out of people periodically. So what I want is for you to produce less of it. You have Hell roots in your brain. We've been trying for years to dig them out, but we can't. If we pull any deeper, you'll die. Best we can do is starve them by emptying your wells of upset from time to time and dry them out a little."

"Yeah, well. You do what I do for a living, you can't help but pick up the flavors of the road. You can't expect me to quit my job just because it complicates your job." Dean gave her a patronizing smirk, which was returned with an exasperated trill. "We done here?"

"I'm not asking you to quit your job, twat waffle. I'm asking you to work on your feelings. Your job shows you Bad Things, but your repressive nature is making it harder on you than it has to be, which in turn is making it harder on us." Flip retorted. "Me, and my coworkers when they have you on rotation. You're difficult."

"Cry me a river. It's not like I've got easy work, either."

"Of course not. Because the way you go about it is to work with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel." Flip deadpanned. "Why are you so against getting better?"

"Hey, I'm not against the whole feeling better thing, alright? It just doesn't happen. Think I want to be mad all the time?" Dean snapped. "Think I don't know it's screwing things up? Hurting people? I've got a lot riding on how I handle things and everybody I care about is still getting the raw end of the deal no matter what I do! It's not as easy as 'cheer up', okay? I can't."

Flip watched Dean pace around the room like a caged tiger, silently daring her to say anything to to contrary. Instead, she sat down on the nightstand and swung her little feet back and forth idly over the edge, just waiting. For what, he had no freaking clue.

"And it's-" he gestured around the room at nothing. "It's everything. It's getting caught at a red light. It's finding out Sammy made a decision without me. Realizing I went over 3,000 without getting an oil change. It's things that bug the living hell outta me, and I know they shouldn't, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. Everything blows up."

"Trauma." Flip repeated.

"Yeah, I get it. You said that." Dean huffed.

"Your mind is used to constantly being in danger, being scared that people you care about will be tortured and killed. It's wired that way now, so that even little amounts of stress feel like huge threats, ne~" Flip pointed to the bed and waited for Dean to sit. "You block people out because you don't want to burden them, and then feel betrayed when they do the same. You're going straight to anger because it's familiar. Easier than being vulnerable and risking someone making fun or pitying you."

The man just glared. He hated accusations like this. Especially if they were right and stung his sense of pride.

"Easy for you to say, Tinkerbell. What do you have to lose? I have... I've got almost nobody. Wh- Are you smiling?"

"This is good, keep going." Flip flapped a hand.

"This funny to you?" Dean frowned.

"No. On the outside I'm pulling out a lot of grime from your brain, and you venting in here is loosening some of it. It's a good thing. Look out the window." she shook her head.

Dean grimaced uncertainly, but crossed to open the curtains just enough for a peek. The creatures were splintering apart, carried away on the wind like so many dust particles. The landscape had sparse patches of grass and the sky had begun to clear enough to bring shafts of light through, dancing with sun motes.

"You should talk. To your brother. To your friends. You might be surprised how much it helps."

"It's not gonna change anything." Dean replied, his voice far more hoarse than he expected it to be.

"If you do nothing, nothing changes. If you try trusting people not to throw you under a bus... it just might." Flip offered gently. "You're good at being angry. Try getting good at other emotions. It's an uphill walk, but you know there are at least a few people who want you to feel okay. Let them help you. Stop acting like you don't deserve it, and maybe one day you'll feel that you do."

He didn't, though. He didn't deserve to feel better. Not to his mind, anyway. He stared out the window and watched the outside world changing for the better in ways he knew he never could. Time kept marching, and he kept drinking and internalizing. He'd do it until the day he died. A forever death. Not a Winchester death.

"You're crying."

"What? Bullshit." Dean scoffed.

"Not in here. Outside." Flip amended.

"How do you know?"

"It's my job. I can't stay in your mind much longer before it starts being a detriment to your person. I'm almost done. The bucket is empty, so this is as good as it's going to get." Flip fluttered over to the window sill, not looking at Dean but straight ahead to a wispy field of oats. "Where are you, Dean?"

"...I'm fishing." Dean replied, swallowing. "Waiting on Sammy to get back with a six pack and some half decent snacks. Spicy jerky. Combos... the ones with the pretzel and cheese deals, you know. Gummy lifesavers. He likes the berry ones..." he trailed off, mind catching up with his body in shallow breaths and burning eyes. "What if something bad happens?"

"What if something good happens?" Flip patted his index finger.

Ah, there it was. Finally the man began to cry, hanging his head in shame. When he lifted it after a shuddering sob, she was gone and he was sitting in a folding chair on a pier with a large hand patting his shoulder.

"Catch anything yet?" Sam asked.

"No. Uh. No. Nibbles, but nothing good." Dean caught a bag of Combos tossed in his direction and cracked open a Budweiser.

When he sat up in bed, it was no surprise that his pillow was soaked, but he was still annoyed about it. The air smelled like bacon, though. That was nice. He shuffled out to the galley, yawning wide, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"I was gonna come get you." Sam sat two plates on the table, piled high with waffles and bacon.

"Somebody woke up chipper." Dean rubbed his face, but couldn't refuse the siren call of the porcine perfection.

"Slept better than I have in a while, I guess..." Sam trailed off.

"Yeah. About that," Dean took a sip and sat down, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Can we, uh... can we talk? About... stuff?"

Sam passed the syrup to his brother and tried not to look too excited over the prospect of having a real meat and potatoes conversation.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

#Day 7 Gruesome #writing prompts #drabbles #creepy stuff #work related #tw: horror

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madamrogersstorytelling · 6 years

Text

Aura

Chapter 1: The Part of You That Never Dies

I think this will be very different from the original plan (I mean, the one I was supposed to write in Finnish). I had written down something I wanted to include in this first chapter, but almost nothing is there. The main plot line is still the same, though. So I’m not completely lost. And I may have lied, some things from my notes are there, not just the way I had thought they would. Better this way, I think. Or we’ll see haha.

But, let’s start! My very first series, yay! [gulp] I hope you at least somewhat enjoy this and tell me if you did.

I can also make a tag list so feel free to tell me if you want to be tagged.

Summary and other information can be found here.

Words: 2056

“The devil asked me how I knew

my way around the halls of hell.

I told him I did not need a map

for the darkness I know so well.”

t.m.t

She had lost count on the day 210. And now she saw the bright sky. It would always turn inky blue before she’d go back inside.

It couldn’t be much more than 210 days. She had made count to make sure she wouldn’t forget. To make sure her father wouldn’t be able to forget what he had done.

“Of course he can,” she said to herself with an annoyed sigh. “He knows exactly what he has done and surely is proud of it. He’ll tell everyone how he banished the work of the Devil from their sacred family.”

Someone bursted into a loud laughter somewhere further, it made Aura jump. Her spiky-looking hair fell to the sides of her pale face when she leaned forward and closed her eyes. She pushed out a sigh between her lips, trying to calm herself with it. The first didn’t help, she tried twice more.

“I’m sorry for them,” said a lenient female voice. “I’ve told them to shut up… Those skippers, they never learn.” The woman sounded a bit bitter now, and the second Aura let her gaze rise towards her from below her eyelashes, the woman was already looking at her. She was a short, ginger woman with a friendly face and funny wrinkles in the corners of her green eyes. She looked like someone who really should not work at a bar but maybe at a kindergarten. But she probably was a mother who needed money to raise the kids, so she had to take the first job she could have.

“It’s fine,” Aura shook her head, a gentle smile appearing on her face.

“No, it really isn’t,” the woman let her hand touch Aura’s gently, it was a reassuring gesture yet so short, almost nonexistent, that is was easy to ignore, but Aura saw it and felt it. And was amazed how calm it felt.

“Earl!” the woman shouted towards a table in the corner under a dusty lamp. “We have heard the story of how you shot that cougar thousand times already, nobody thinks it’s funny so let it be! Would you? Thank you!” she turned back to Aura and leaned towards her a bit so only she was able to hear her. “It was a raccoon, really.”

Aura let out a laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, Earl has a habit of making things bigger than they really are. His raccoon became a cougar.”

“Maybe he, I don’t know… Really shot a cougar? At some point? He just mixes the stories so no one really knows the line where the other starts and another begins.”

But the woman shook her head. “I don’t think so. He is embarrassed. He is friends with hunters who have shot God knows what creatures – they even talk about chupacabras – but Earl has only shot a raccoon and a few rabbits. And he comes to this bar to tell his stories that really are just stories. I wouldn’t mind it but I’m always here and have heard the story of a bloodthirsty cougar thousand times. Even if I didn’t know the truth, the story has lost its shine; the cougar sounds like a stuffed toy instead of a horrid beast. I feel sorry for the poor man,” the woman got up and banged the counter with her fingers. It sounded like a tune. “Enough about those idiots they like to call men… How about you, sweetheart? I heard you talking under your breath earlier.”

Aura went serious. “It’s nothing…”

“Didn’t sound like that. You were quite angry.”

Aura shook her head and refused to say a word.

“Listen, darling,” the woman looked straight into Aura’s eyes. But she wasn’t angry; she looked almost like she was worried instead. “Don’t think that sitting in bars will help you to deal with whatever is bothering you. I’ll give you a friendly advice: do whatever it takes to survive. Because everyone has a right to live a life they’ve chosen to live. There is no one in this world who can tell you otherwise.”

Aura looked at the green eyes and felt her serious look soften.

“I’ve made a mistake like that,” the woman went on, “and I wouldn’t want anyone else to end up like me. I’m not bitter; I have wonderful kids but… Sometimes you just think you have the wheel. When the truth is you don’t have a wheel at all, you have strings, and someone is pulling them for you.”

They were both silent for a moment after the woman’s last sentence. She looked like she was considering should she have said it at all. But when she saw what Aura looked like, saw her touched expression, she knew that it had had to be said. Some things demand to be said. When you have worked in a bar for years, you start to see that in people; the need for a push, the right words, the truth – no matter how ugly or biting it may be. People don’t come to bars only to seek for a fling, some people come for a truth.

Truths cannot always be beautiful.

Life is not a ballad.

Aura knew that better than the woman could even guess. She cocked her head to right with a thinking frown and asked shyly: “What’s your name?”

“Gemma,” the woman answered with a warm smile. “I can see my words hit you. I’m glad of that.”

“Thank you for them, they… They were really helpful. I’ve had a hard year.”

“I see,” Gemma took a quick gaze at the opening door but returned it to Aura a second after. “Just remember that you can overcome anything. When you decide you can, you really can. Just one push is all it needs, and a dose of strong will.”

Aura nodded a few times with an almost sad smile on her lips.

A man appeared in front of the counter a few chairs away from Aura. He lifted his hand a bit in a greeting manner, looking at Aura for a few short seconds afterwards as if he was apologizing. Aura gave him a two seconds long smile, but nothing more. She didn’t even look at him properly.

“I’ll be right back,” Gemma told Aura and went to the man after getting a nod. Aura was able to hear how the man ordered a whiskey with a steady and only a bit hoarse voice, and how Gemma told him that it would come right away. The man didn’t even try to contact Aura, even though she was able to feel him looking. The urge to change glances with him was growing strong; Aura mainly wanted to just ask what the man was looking at. She wasn’t exactly a fan of men staring at her.

“Thanks,” she heard the man saying with the same voice. Now it had a smile in it, Aura could hear it. His chair made a sound, and Aura turned to look just before the man disappeared. He was a tall, dark-haired man dressed in a sweater, which looked somewhat deep purple and black pants. Not exactly the kind of guy who would have gotten into a fight with a girl because of staring at her.

She remained staring at the direction the man had walked but he had disappeared long before Aura was even sure what he looked like.

“I know that guy,” Gemma said as she came back in front of Aura. “He hadn’t seen you before, that’s why he was looking at you for so long.”

“Is he your friend? I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude.

“He surely saw your discomfort in the way you’re sitting, yes. And no, he is not my friend, not really; just someone who comes here quite often. No need to be sorry.”

“I still kinda am,” Aura chuckled slightly and put her hands in her jacket’s pockets.

Her fingers hit something.

“You’re cute,” Gemma said. “Remind me of myself when I was about your age.”

Aura smiled to Gemma and pulled a paper from her pocket. It was rumpled and folded at least three or four times. An ordinary white paper but it suddenly meant everything to Aura. She lost Gemma, she lost track of her words – or was she even talking anymore? Aura felt her heart skipping a few beats and then it started to drum against her ribcage like it wanted to get out. She unfolded the paper slowly, almost in pain, felt Gemma’s eyes on her and looked slowly at her once.

Dear Aura,

You may not remember me, but I’m still there inside you. They tried to kill this part of you. But I didn’t give in. I’m too stubborn to die. You must know that by now. I’m the one they so eagerly want to get rid of.

Don’t let me go.

Whatever they said about you, is a bitter lie; a thick, black lie that poisoned everyone’s mind because they’re afraid. Fear makes you humane. But if you have to fear for your life, it suffocates you.

Do you remember the cold floor? It pierced through the skin of your toes and made them freeze, even during summer. It was worse against your hands, though. Everything they said was a lie. The world you lived in – it wasn’t a world at all. It was your world, sure, but it was only a small world inside the bigger one. The one you had always wanted to explore. The one your father despised. The one he was ready to destroy. The one he knew you were from. The reason why he held you in that small world of yours.

The more you repeat something to yourself, the more you believe it. I know you believe everything they say about you now. I’m not blaming you; I’m here to get you back.

I’m the one you were able to take with you. The one you had hidden from everyone.

Now, Aura, I need you to do something for me.

Don’t let anyone control you anymore.

Fight for what you think is right. Fight for yourself.

I know you can make it.

Yours,

The part of you that never dies

“What is it?” Gemma frowned but never tried to read the paper in Aura’s hands. When she saw silent tears in the corners of her eyes, Gemma raised her hand and placed it against Aura’s wrist. “You can do it, sweetheart.”

“It’s Aura,” she was still staring at the paper, the letter she had written. She didn’t know when anymore, there was no day anywhere, but she recognized her own handwriting. “My name, it’s Aura. And now I know what I have to do. What I can do.”

“Good, Aura. Good. Show the world you have the strength to overcome every obstacle. I have faith in you.”

“Thank you, Gemma. I will never forget you,” Aura touched the woman’s hand, intertwined her fingers with Gemma’s and looked into those green eyes for a moment. “Tell the man I’m sorry for being rude. Remember that you still have an opportunity to live a life you’ve always wanted. Never change. Don’t let the world take goodness away from you. And tell Earl that his cougar surely was feisty.”

Gemma gave her a warm laugh, but Aura could see tears glimmering in her eyes. Gemma nodded, bit her lower lip and could not stop looking at the young woman in front of her whose face wasn’t that pale anymore. Even her spiky-looking, brown hair had settled. And her hand was warm but a little shaky, so Gemma squeezed it.

“I will,” she whispered. “Don’t get lost. If you do, let your heart and mind guide you. They usually know the way.”

Aura nodded. She let go of Gemma’s hand after stroking it with her thumb.

“Until we meet again, Aura,” Gemma put her hand against the counter when Aura got up.

“And we will,” she answered with a strong tone, which told Gemma Aura really meant it.

When Aura opened the door of the bar, she looked over her shoulder to see Gemma still standing there behind the counter. She smiled and gave the younger woman a nod. Aura returned that nod and disappeared into the crowd outside.

Don’t let anyone control you anymore.

Fight for yourself.

#aura #chapter 1 #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo x ofc #billy russo

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katsitting · 6 years

Note

17&63? This could turn out to be shit if it’s in i.e ww2 or smth idk you’re the writer xx

War AU + Everybody Knows/Mistaken for Couple.

I don’t know what you want me to do here, but let’s see what my brain decides. You also didn’t give me a ship, so let’s simply defer to tomarry.

Warnings: Corpses, Blood, Unhealthy relationships, and standard war themes.

Everyone knew.

The stares at the back of Harry’s head, pitying and upset in equal measure, telling of this point.

He hadn’t wanted this, but this was the reality of a world where the government as they knew it painted a target on their backs. No one was safe. The rebels were being picked off one by one, a spy within their ranks feeding information to the opposing side.

No one could be trusted. There was no such thing as friends, not when everyone simply aimed to survive.

But how did Harry fit in in all this? How was he caught between two beasts in this war?

Simple. He’d fallen in love with the wrong man.

He fell prey to a monster that hid behind the face of a sweet and earnest man. A man that had never experienced love, that had never experienced warmth, or true friendship.

Harry had wanted to give that to him, to show him before it became too late, before he was beyond saving.

And now, he was paying the price. The leader on the other side of a war that he had never wanted to fight. He didn’t want to be the leader, to give the command that would snuff out the life of a man he should hate, but couldn’t. Even betrayed as he was, he never could manage to stamp out the goodness in his heart.

So perhaps, the more stubborn in his ranks were right in mistrusting him. They were right in avoiding him when they could, giving him a wide berth when he stepped into the tents to gather his supplies before a raid.

There was much doubt if he himself, given the opportunity, would be able to lay the killing blow, and they were right to feel this way. Harry too had his doubts, his heart ached with each whisper of Tom’s name--or the stupid title he’d given himself before he’d turned on Harry.

Still, Voldemort--Harry’s heart tried not to burst from just even the mention of such a name--had to be stopped. He couldn’t let this war go on with hundreds--if not thousands--of casualties on both sides.

No one was safe. Not the soldiers, not the generals, not the civilians, not the children, not the animals, not this world.

Everything was burning, and Harry wondered if it wasn’t too late to put out these flames. After all, there was simply no going back for him, not when he loved a monster, not when he still fucking hesitated, to put a bullet between the man’s eyes each time his gun was pressed against Tom’s--no, no, no, that’s not Tom, and you know it, he’s Voldemort, say his name you coward--temple.

“Harry.”

A soft breath escaped him at the sound of Hermione’s familiar drawl. It was low, nearly a whisper. It was a miracle he had even heard it with the storm raging outside the tent and the shouts ringing in the night.

There was no pause button when it came to war, only action, even when the sun has long since set, when this should be the time for rest.

But the wicked don’t rest. Don’t you know that, Harry? With how often Tom kept you up into the late hours of the--

Harry stamped out the thought before it was finished, casting Hermione a wary glance.

There was a furrow between Hermione’s brows that not even the tight ponytail restraining her riotous curls could eliminate. It was incredible just how much a person aged when caught in the cogs of war.

“We’ve found a body. I think you should take a look at it.” Hermione’s eyes were brilliant, like they’d bottled fire within their depths.

The fact that she had come in Ron’s stead to deliver this message was bad enough. Ron was shite at delivering bad news, always caught between an angry bellow and cry when a soldier was killed in battle. Many spoke terribly about him for that, but Harry found it comforting. It was good that there were still people capable of empathy, capable of mourning without the decay of listlessness and ennui buzzing in the back of their heads.

“That bad?” Harry asked, throwing on a rain parka made to protect him from the rough elements outside. It wasn’t raining now, but it would be soon. There was something about England that attracted such horrid weather, even a good hundred miles away from civilization.

“You’ll see,” was all Hermione said before crouching out of the flap in the tent. Harry followed after her, keeping a good pace with her brusque path through the shrubbery of the forest floor.

It wasn’t far, but it was always wise to prepare as if one were going to head further out than was planned. It was this caution that had saved his neck many times. The recklessness of his youth, the brashness, and brazenness of his actions would do nothing but fan the flames of war. It was because of that recklessness that he had even met Tom in the first place, that he had stumbled into his bed and became caught in one of the many masks of a monstrosity.

When Hermione finally stopped, Harry did too. The stench of something vile swarmed him, and Harry swallowed down the bile and his disgust. Someone was dead alright, and had been for some time.

“Look.”

Harry stepped around Hermione and stopped dead in his tracks. Grief overtook him, his spine nearly bowing from the weight of it as he took in the terrified face of one of his soldiers. It had been the youngest amongst his recruits, a simple man that had wanted to do his part.

At first, Harry had found his energy and hero worship irritating, undeserving in fact. He was no hero. He hadn’t been for a long time, not since he--

“Colin.” The name fell easily from his tongue, burning its way up from the pit of his stomach and up his esophagus. Harry wanted nothing more than to shoot back cheap whiskey to mask the bitter pang of sorrow.

“Shit.” A hand made its way to his shoulder, its warmth penetrating the thick parka and the layers of clothes beneath it.

“There’s more.” Harry raked his fingers through his hair, already dreading what would come next. The fact that Hermione had not outright said anything, but waited for him to compose himself before doing so spoke volumes.

“We found a message on his body when we found him. It’s for you.”

Swallowing hard, Harry moved without being told to do so. Hermione pulled something from out of her pocket, handing it out to him.

He shifted his gaze away from it, taking it from her hand, hating the look of apology in her gaze. This wasn’t good.

“I’ll leave you alone. Travers, Lee, head out. We need to see if the rest of the men that left with Ceevy are here.”

With that, the men stood to attention and dove into the shadows. They didn’t turn to look at him, but he could feel their judgment. Nothing could hide that, could erase it. This was how it always went, who he was to his men.

Hermione was the last to leave, a sad smile twisting up her face between she turned and left, leaving him alone with Collin’s cold body and the creatures buzzing in the night.

Taking a slow breath, Harry opened his hand revealing a folded piece of paper. It was thick, a familiar scent wafting through his nose.

It was Tom’s. Harry could never forget it.

All the nights of them in bed, Tom’s sweat-slicked hair and his neck beneath his tongue, bitter and sweet with his cologne. It made his throat tightened, a burning sensation creeping up his nose.

Steeling himself, Harry opened the note and began to read.

Dearest Harry, I hope you are doing well for yourself. Every day I find myself wondering when you will cease this pretense of caring for others and realize where it is that you truly belong: at my side. After all, I am only doing as you asked. To change this world, one must raze it to the ground and start again. You know this. This world is beyond saving.

Tears burned in his eyes, but Harry refused to let them fall. His fingers tightened on the edges of the paper, threatening to tear the fancy parchment in half.

I still recall the taste of your lips against mine, dream of your fingers knitted between mine after an evening of lovemaking. I remember how much you enjoyed it, adored the warmth of my skin pressed against yours. You were never shy about your admiration of me, just as I was not afraid of my adoration for you.

Harry wanted to laugh, then. Tom loved no one, save for himself. He was incapable of it. These were just pretty words to bring him over, to play with his emotions as they often were. It was what he did whenever he knew he did something wrong, whenever he had hurt Harry in some unfathomable way and wanted to ease the sting.

The question was just what was Tom apologizing for? He’d never apologized for this war, never gone out of this way to write some pretty words and leave them with the fallen in battle. Tom reserved his words for special occasions.

Anxiety twisted his belly into knots, and Harry dove right back to Tom’s message, knowing that there was something terrible to come.

But this is not why I write to you now. You know the extent of my affections for you, although you undoubtedly question its sincerity. Harry, if you are in possession of my note, then you have perhaps found the body of one of your men. He was rather young to be involved in our war, it was almost a shame to see the light die in his eyes. I found it interesting that the last thing he said was your name, here I was certain that most of your men hated you--questioning whether you were truly on the side against my reign. Everyone knows who you are, Harry. Who and what you meant to me in my youth, who you had become in my eyes, and what you did to inspire me righting the wrongs in this world.

Harry scoffed. Tom was never altruistic. Had never been and never would be. He did nothing without expecting something in return.

However, it seems that some have misconstrued the nature of our relationship. I have remedied this.

A shock of ice shot up his spine. It was certainly no secret that Tom and him had been an item once, but for Tom to go out of his way to tell others--

Friends, Harry? Hardly. We are so much more. And I hope that after you’ve received this message and the gift I have personally delivered to your tent, you will see that as well. Sincerest regards, Lord Voldemort.

Harry crumpled the letter in his hand, his realization fueling his movements.

He ran back to camp, fingers releasing his gun from its holster as he wove through the trees. He was familiar with the area, but Tom had promised an unwanted visitor. He was up to something, something between the spaces of the words that were more than the threat of exposing the more salacious nature of their relationship and murder.

A flash of light ahead of him nearly blinded him, and then he stopped, walking slowly through his camp with his gun now up and ready. It was quiet, the rustling trees and the sound of animals baying in the darkness the only interruptions to the quiet.

It made him nervous, a slow trickle of sweat gathering on the back of his neck when he saw no sign of any of his men on the camp.

He took slow and steady breaths with each careful step, counting the seconds in his head and listening for anything that broke the still air around him.

This went on until he finally made it back to his tent, the flap wide open and lit. It was a white light, different from the yellow one standard in his camp.

Grip tightening on the gun, Harry parted the fold with one hand while keeping a steady grip of his gun, and entered.

Harry nearly dropped his gun.

There was blood everywhere. It was smeared on the cloth, on his desk, on his bed. There were dismembered arms shaped into the symbol of a heart.

Bile rose up his esophagus, but he didn’t throw up even when he wanted nothing more than to do just that.

Because for all the macabre in his tent, the most terrifying thing was not the arms or the blood splattered all over his tent, it was the single chair at the center of the heart with a bouquet of flowers sitting innocently atop it.

There was a note over the top of the flowers, but Harry didn’t need to read them to know this was all Tom’s doing, that the bodies in his tent were the missing men from Collin’s group.

A breath stuttered from his mouth and he dropped his gun. There was no threat here. Tom wouldn’t come out this entire way just to see him, just to make him squirm.

He reholstered his gun and walked toward the flowers, narrowing avoiding the arms with a precise step over them.

He didn’t want to touch them more than he needed to. Death didn’t unsettle him the way that it used to, but still, that did not mean he welcomed it either.

He pulled the single note out, small and bright. The same powdery blue as the flowers atop the chair.

I hope you enjoy the flowers. Love, Tom Marvolo Riddle. The man you have always known.

#fanfiction tropes mashup #this is pretty dark #wow #tomarry #Anonymous

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cyberneticlagomorph · 6 years

Text

She waits for you in the castle garden. A pulsating pustule of evil, in the form of an eerily massive flower bud, tightly closed around the horror it so carefully gestated in its unnatural womb. Reports from Cheshire and your guards state that it appeared sometime during the night, and all attempts to remove or destroy it have been in vain. No one can get close to it, or else fall prey to the potent miasma of adoration that the loathsome thing oozed like slime. The ground around the bulb is blackened and dead, never to host life again, strewn with the kneeling wide eyed bodies of your guards and any foolish enough to dare tamper with the flower. Their faces stretched to the limit by hideous grins and half lidded eyes, steadily crying blood onto the lifeless earth.

They have to be dragged away, pulled to a safe distance with lassos on long steel poles, like stray dogs caught by animal control. The bulb's range is a short one, so you hope that given enough space and time, they'll be alright. By the time you get there, the last are being cleared away on makeshift stretchers, you need medical supplies and actual doctors here badly. Ada can't handle a job like this alone, and you feel terrible for asking her to help so often. Everything around you is a constant state of dangerous chaos that threatens to swallow all you love, and every attempt to distance yourself from one conflict ends with you falling into the frothing maw of another. It's exhausting, you hate it, more than anything else, you hate it.

The bulb senses your approach, petals bulging like flesh or rubber as something presses against them from the inside, you swear you see the palm of a hand or an eyeless face with its mouth stretched wide in a soundless scream. The whole thing shudders violently and begins to unfurl, releasing more of that choking adoration fog that saps your will to fight and end this once and for all. Your knees tremble, and every thought suddenly vanishes from your head, your fear, your pain, your worries. They all disappear and you are left with nothing but adoration for the Queen. Your Queen. Your everything. You are the dust beneath her feet, she is the air you breathe, you are the dog at her heel, she is the benevolent goddess that spares your life just one moment more. You want nothing more than to please her, you'd slit a thousand throats just to see those obsidian eyes alight with amusement. You'd slit your own throat to see her smile, hear her praise you...

The wretched bulb blooms into an unfathomable rose, stolen blood dripping from the spread petals. The stench of blood baking in summer sun coats your tongue and makes you gag, your consciousness fighting to claw through the Queen's control. Within the rose, a figure is curled, coated in blood and chlorophyll laced mucus, but otherwise naked. She doesn't so much as get up as she is jerked to her feet like a puppet on frayed strings, wearing the body she fashioned from your blood. She takes the watery first breath of a newborn, staggering like a reanimated corpse towards you, the rose dissolving into a blinding cloud of petals that coalesces into a dress for her, a crown of thorns and bone atop her head. You stare into a face too much like your own, you're starting to bleed now, from the eyes and nose. It trails down your face and slithers down the back of your throat, making breathing an impossibility. She holds you fast, a deer in headlights awaiting the oncoming truck with sheer animal stupidity. You see her draw the sword, black and cruel, winking red in the sun as it arcs towards your body.

You dissipate into a swarm of blue fireflies, curling back and around to reform behind the Queen, drawing the Vorpal sword despite your evident disorientation. She scowls at you, raising her hand. The bloody ground boils and seethes, the tortured roots of that ugly rose rising from the earth to become thorny snakes the size of trees, each tipped with the smaller sister of that first rose. Single black eyes with white heart-shaped pupils stare accusingly from within their petals, smaller snakes end in bulbous mouths lined with row after row of needle teeth. Mouths not meant to chew and consume, but to tear and crush their victims into horrid puddles of pulpy gore. She flicks her finger with a sneer, a solitary toothy snake lunging at you with jaws wide and dripping with strands of green spittle. You slash with the Vorpal blade, cleanly severing mouth from wriggling stalk. Both spasm disturbingly, like an animal in pain, trailing ropes of green gore before seizing and going still. The Queen thinks you distracted and sends another vine careening towards you, its mouth foaming and rabid.

Your hand raises without your permission, a consciousness nestling beside yours with almost practiced ease. The vine begins to squirm and writhe, curling and flailing in pain as purple-black streams of smoke swirl from it to you, spiraling up the darkening length of your arm. You watch the plant wither and die within moments, its life force settling heavily within your chest as you approach the Queen, your eyes burning red and blue, sickly dribbles of that same smoke trailing from the tips of your dagger-sharp claws. Within your mind, Moira grins.

"How... adorable." you drawl in a voice that echoes itself, your tone full of boredom and venom that leaves a taste in your mouth as plain as the Irish accent that colors your words. The Queen scowls, then smiles, unleashing more thorns than you can counter or drain, you're left helplessly dodging blindly against the shuddering plant-based hydra. You tumble headlong over one limb, only to see another hurtle towards you at high speed, too late for you to escape. The sound of plant flesh against unyielding earth is finite and deafening, but not as chilling as the peels of laughter that claw themselves free of the Queen's throat. Moira's mind and yours are instantly disentangled, her flung almost painfully back into her body back home. Something else, someone else, oozes from the darkness and fills your mind with an endless shrieking hivemind, nearly drowned out by the hissing and groaning of some diabolical machine. A voice calls to you over the buzzing, screaming din in your head, inky and cold

"Because I owe you one, now let's dance doll..."

A dark, spreading pool leaks from beneath the great limb, and the Queen nearly mistakes it for blood before she remembers that yours is luminescent and blue. She strikes too late, you're already upon her, forming a new self from the terrible ink. Your skin is black and gray, trimmed with white, all of you dripping ink onto the ground below. Your lips curl into an unnatural smile, as you speak without moving your mouth in a voice that rings out a dozen times over.

"Surpriiiiiiissse..." you hiss, summoning limbs and misshapen shambling things from the dark pools around you. The Queen shrieks, pulling the strings on her creature, making it lash out against you. The Vorpal sword becomes an ink pen in your hands, its nib razor sharp and gleaming. You prune the plant-beast with ease and resume your assault on the Queen. She can't touch you like this, the moment she thinks she has you, you draw on another friend's mind to break the shaky hold of her miasma. Bendy, the ink demon with his black well of souls, does this the best. She can do nothing but throw physical attacks at you so long as he's here. His hivemind is deep and disorienting, the longer he stays with you, the more you feel yourself drowning in the churning sea of noise. The hydra swats you aside like a pathetic fly and sends you to splatter against a nearby wall. Bendy leaves the moment you pull yourself together. The rose winds itself around the Queen, becoming a vicious looking fortress with glaring floral eyes and snarling mouths. Two more minds brush against yours, longing to throw their hats in the ring.

The first is giddy, gleeful to be out and causing mayhem rather than confined to her cell back in Arkham. Her agility is astounding, the vines can't touch you, and any too slow to draw back become crushed pulpy piles of vegetable mess on the already sticky ground. The Vorpal sword makes a wicked warhammer, paired with Harley's acrobatic and you're the cheeriest tank Wonderland has ever seen. A vine strikes low, you jump high and perch on the stem just behind its drooling maw, one of its brethren darts for you, sinking its teeth into the flesh of its kin with no remorse, you take off running as the vine starts to spasm in panic. Others try to do you in, either to be bashed with your hammer or left snapping at empty air. You spot an opening in the shivering thorn wall, and dive through. Harley reluctantly retreats from your mind and another consciousness takes her place. The Queen strikes with her sword but is left slicing the space between a churning cloud of blue moths, she reorients herself just in time to receive a merciless kick to the teeth.

The Red Queen staggers back, bleeding the same green as her monstrosity. All six hundred years worth of Jeanne's whiskey-soaked rage courses through your veins, stoked white hot by sheer proximity to the Queen. You give her no time to attack, drawing your guns, putting her back on the defensive. Blade and bullet clash, gun-heels unleash devastating assaults, yet she refuses to die. Every limb lopped or shot off grows back in an instant, but it's nothing you can't handle. The Queen drops the thorn barrier in desperation, searching for any space she can put between you. You could almost smile at her stupidity. You step on a discarded limb and slip, one of the larger thorn vines hits you full on as you stand and sends you careening away. You hit the ground, bounce once and roll for some feet. Jeanne is reluctant to leave you, but you force your bond apart. It hurts to breathe, many things are definitely broken. Good.

You play dead as the Queen tiptoes near, face splitting in a smile. She chuckles darkly, her sword dragging in the blood and muck as she waits to crave your heart from your chest and your fool head from your shoulders. You draw on one last person, feeling her pain and panic as she enters your mind. Your magic manifests her abilities and you feel your wounds start to heal, though you keep your breathing as shallow as possible. The Queen raises her black blade, your strength returns just in time to roll away and spring up as her blade comes down.

"Why. Won't. You. DIE?!" she snarls, half mad with frustration. You wipe blood from your lips and straighten up, your blonde hair falling over one eye.

"Haven't you heard?" you half whisper in a voice accented with German, skin glowing as your wings unfurl, carrying you off the ground, "Heroes never die."

Somewhere in the back of your mind you think you hear Angela laugh, slightly manic and panicked but a laugh just the same. It makes your heart flutter as much as the wings on your back bearing you so proudly upwards. The Queen screams like a damned thing, flinging the whole of her beast at you, as bloody and weak as it is. Its attacks are pathetic and sluggish, vines falling apart midair as you climb higher. Those few still healthy enough to do damage meet the business end of your scythe, true its not the weapon of an angel of mercy, but you aren't feeling very merciful today. You swoop low and take a vine out at the base, watching it crash down on its sister-shoots, pinning them to the ground.

"Now!" you shout to the pair in the shadows, Rewind and Bub, the two who have been watching this fight since it began. They take the Queen by surprise, trapping her in a bubble of time as chains of shadow bind her wrists and ankles. You don't stop hacking and flying until the rose hydra is nothing more than sickly green mulch melting into the abused earth beneath. When the time bubble drops, so does the Queen, left screeching and flailing as tears well up in her black eyes. Her tantrum continues as she is dragged to the castle dungeon to stay. You slump, exhausted on the grass and let Angie go, promising to thank her in person the moment you got the chance.

#action post #ic #ask to tag #blood #rewind #bub #diamour #queenie #worldsbestdoc #littledemoninkdarling #mxthshadxws #feral clown #starryeyes dirtyhands #vorpal sword #all hail the queen

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kaaramel · 6 years

Note

May I see Wendy's lines?

QUAGMIRE_WRONGKEY = "Should I give up, or find another key?",ACTIVATE =LOCKED_GATE = "I can't open it without a key.",FOODFULL = "It hasn't yet eaten our last sacrifice...",NOTDISH = "That may not be best...",INUSE = "Someone's beat me to it.",REPLATE =MISMATCH = "Like my soul, this food doesn't belong in this vessel.",SAMEDISH = "I've already put this on a dish.",QUAGMIRE_ANNOUNCE_NOTRECIPE = "Those foods weren't meant to be together.",QUAGMIRE_ANNOUNCE_MEALBURNT = "It's ruined.",QUAGMIRE_ANNOUNCE_LOSE = "What a horrible place to have a curse.",QUAGMIRE_ANNOUNCE_WIN = "Let us depart this terrible place.",QUAGMIRE_ALTAR =GENERIC = "The monster's hunger shall never cease.",FULL = "We have prolonged our horrific demise.",QUAGMIRE_ALTAR_STATUE1 = "What horror have those eyes witnessed?",QUAGMIRE_PARK_FOUNTAIN = "Long dry.",--QUAGMIRE_HOE = "To till the corrupt soil.",QUAGMIRE_TURNIP = "It's... a turnip.",QUAGMIRE_TURNIP_COOKED = "The turnip is now cooked.",QUAGMIRE_TURNIP_SEEDS = "The life they contain is a mystery.",QUAGMIRE_GARLIC = "It gives food flavor.",QUAGMIRE_GARLIC_COOKED = "It smells a bit nice.",QUAGMIRE_GARLIC_SEEDS = "The life they contain is a mystery.",QUAGMIRE_ONION = "I never cry.",QUAGMIRE_ONION_COOKED = "It will never make anyone cry again.",QUAGMIRE_ONION_SEEDS = "The life they contain is a mystery.",QUAGMIRE_POTATO = "It has eyes, yet it never cries.",QUAGMIRE_POTATO_COOKED = "Now its eyes will never open.",QUAGMIRE_POTATO_SEEDS = "The life they contain is a mystery.",QUAGMIRE_TOMATO = "Red as heart's blood.",QUAGMIRE_TOMATO_COOKED = "Its flesh is far more bloody now.",QUAGMIRE_TOMATO_SEEDS = "The life they contain is a mystery.",QUAGMIRE_FLOUR = "Flour by any other name would smell as sweet.",QUAGMIRE_WHEAT = "We can grind it down into flour.",QUAGMIRE_WHEAT_SEEDS = "The life they contain is a mystery.",--NOTE: raw/cooked carrot uses regular carrot stringsQUAGMIRE_CARROT_SEEDS = "The life they contain is a mystery.",QUAGMIRE_ROTTEN_CROP = "Time came for it.",QUAGMIRE_SALMON = "It flops as its life slowly leaves its body.",QUAGMIRE_SALMON_COOKED = "Not so lively now.",QUAGMIRE_CRABMEAT = "Its insides are as horrid as its outsides.",QUAGMIRE_CRABMEAT_COOKED = "It's ready now.",QUAGMIRE_POT = "We cook to stave off death.",QUAGMIRE_POT_SMALL = "We will cook, or we will die.",QUAGMIRE_POT_HANGER_ITEM = "It's for hanging the pot over the fire.",QUAGMIRE_OVEN_ITEM = "Sigh... Why bother?",QUAGMIRE_OVEN = "It looks good.",QUAGMIRE_SUGARWOODTREE =GENERIC = "It has a sickly beauty.",STUMP = "All things must end.",TAPPED_EMPTY = "Like a dagger through the heart. A tree heart.",TAPPED_READY = "I can harvest it now.",TAPPED_BUGS = "All that sacrifice for nothing.",WOUNDED = "Its life ebbs.",QUAGMIRE_SPOTSPICE_SHRUB =GENERIC = "I suppose it could be edible.",PICKED = "We've taken all there was to take.",QUAGMIRE_SPOTSPICE_SPRIG = "We ripped it from its home on the shrub.",QUAGMIRE_SPOTSPICE_GROUND = "Just a dash.",QUAGMIRE_SAPBUCKET = "For collecting tree blood.",QUAGMIRE_SAP = "Tree blood.",QUAGMIRE_SALT_RACK =READY = "There is salt to be had.",GENERIC = "There is no salt, yet.",QUAGMIRE_SALT_RACK_ITEM = "It's for collecting salt from the pond.",QUAGMIRE_SAFE =GENERIC = "Let's have a peek inside...",LOCKED = "Locked, like my heart.",QUAGMIRE_KEY = "It is the key to something precious.",QUAGMIRE_KEY_PARK = "The key to a beautiful place, locked long away.",QUAGMIRE_PORTAL_KEY = "Perhaps I'll be happier in the next world.",QUAGMIRE_MUSHROOMSTUMP =GENERIC = "They thrive on a stump made by death.",PICKED = "All things die. Even fungus.",QUAGMIRE_MUSHROOMS = "Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll be poisonous.",QUAGMIRE_MEALINGSTONE = "I am ground down on the mealing stone of life.",QUAGMIRE_PEBBLECRAB = "Had I such a shell, I would never emerge.",QUAGMIRE_POND_SALT = "Water, water, everywhere...",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_CARRIAGE = "It's been forgotten.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_CLOCK = "Time is an illusion.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_CATHEDRAL = "Nothing more to pray for.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_PUBDOOR = "A door that leads nowhere.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_ROOF = "The roof cannot protect you when death comes.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_CLOCKTOWER = "Time is death's ally.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_BIKE = "Nothing escaped this plague.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_HOUSE = {"Death has been here.", "It's a ghost town.", "Some tragedy has struck this house.",},QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_CHIMNEY = "This was once a happy home.",QUAGMIRE_RUBBLE_CHIMNEY2 = "Its hearth no longer has a home.",QUAGMIRE_MERMHOUSE = "Seclusion has not been kind to it.",QUAGMIRE_SWAMPIG_HOUSE = "I see no joy in this house.",QUAGMIRE_SWAMPIG_HOUSE_RUBBLE = "Neither a house nor a home.",QUAGMIRE_SWAMPIGELDER =GENERIC = "How do you do, sir?",SLEEPING = "He is practicing for the big sleep.",QUAGMIRE_SWAMPIG = "They're less standoffish than their brethren.",QUAGMIRE_PORTAL = "There's no night here. It is a nice change.",QUAGMIRE_SALTROCK = "It needs to be ground down before we can use it.",QUAGMIRE_SALT = "It adds flavor...",QUAGMIRE_FERN = "Wilson calls them \"greens\"... but they're purple...",QUAGMIRE_FOLIAGE_COOKED = "Cooked purples.",QUAGMIRE_FOOD_BURNT = "A waste.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_PLATE = "My usual dinner. A big plate of nothing.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_SOUP = "Merely a broth. It's not sustenance for my soul.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_SNACK = "This will keep me alive a bit longer.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_BREAD = "Prolongs my life so that I may suffer further.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_PASTA = "Morte bene.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_VEGGIE = "Vegetables are good for you but what's the point.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_MEAT = "An animal died for this food.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_FISH = "A fish died for this food.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_CRAB = "A sea creature died for this food.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_CHEESE = "Death is not cheesy.",--QUAGMIRE_FOOD_SWEET = "It cannot sweeten life.",QUAGMIRE_FOOD =GENERIC = "We should offer it to the beast.",MISMATCH = "The beast doesn't want that.",MATCH = "The beast will be satisfied with this.",MATCH_BUT_SNACK = "This will satisfy the beast, but not for long.",QUAGMIRE_COIN1 = "I shall put them on my eyes when I die.",QUAGMIRE_COIN2 = "Money will not bring back Abigail.",QUAGMIRE_COIN3 = "Wealth cannot buy immortality.",QUAGMIRE_COIN4 = "It came from above.",QUAGMIRE_GOATMILK = "But no honey.",QUAGMIRE_SYRUP = "Not as sweet as Abigail.",QUAGMIRE_SAP_SPOILED = "As bittersweet as life.",QUAGMIRE_SEEDPACKET = "Planting seeds requires an optimism I don't possess.",--QUAGMIRE_SEEDPACKET_SMALL = "A small amount of idealism.",--QUAGMIRE_SEEDPACKET_MEDIUM = "A moderate amount of hopefulness.",--QUAGMIRE_SEEDPACKET_LARGE = "A large collection of sanguinity.",--QUAGMIRE_SEEDPACKET_MIX_SMALL = "A mystery of disappointments.",--QUAGMIRE_SEEDPACKET_MIX_MEDIUM = "I suspect they will all spoil.",--QUAGMIRE_SEEDPACKET_MIX_LARGE = "So much potential for blight.",---QUAGMIRE_POT_SYRUP = "Sweetness begets sweetness.",QUAGMIRE_POT_HANGER = "The hanger is a noose for a pot.",QUAGMIRE_GRILL = "It can't make life more palatable.",QUAGMIRE_GRILL_ITEM = "I don't want to carry this around.",QUAGMIRE_GRILL_SMALL = "It makes a little bit of food.",QUAGMIRE_GRILL_SMALL_ITEM = "It only works if I place it somewhere.",QUAGMIRE_OVEN = "It looks okay.",QUAGMIRE_CASSEROLEDISH = "For making food.",QUAGMIRE_CASSEROLEDISH_SMALL = "For making a small amount of food.",QUAGMIRE_PLATE_SILVER = "If only life had been handed to me on a silver plate.",QUAGMIRE_BOWL_SILVER = "It is empty, like my heart.",QUAGMIRE_MERM_CART1 = "I, too, cart around my baggage.", --sammy's wagonQUAGMIRE_MERM_CART2 = "Nothing in there could bring me happiness.", --pipton's cartQUAGMIRE_PARK_ANGEL = "It's winged, but it's no angel.",QUAGMIRE_PARK_ANGEL2 = "Abigail needs a statue.",QUAGMIRE_PARK_URN = "Dust to dust.",QUAGMIRE_PARK_OBELISK = "A monument. But not to Abigail.",QUAGMIRE_PARK_GATE =GENERIC = "Now I may enter the park.",LOCKED = "I need a key to enter.",QUAGMIRE_PARKSPIKE = "Looks dangerous.",QUAGMIRE_CRABTRAP = "Life is a trap.",QUAGMIRE_TRADER_MERM = "How do you do?",QUAGMIRE_TRADER_MERM2 = "How do you do?",QUAGMIRE_GOATMUM = "Hello, ma'am. Care to trade?",QUAGMIRE_GOATKID = "What childhood is this for you?",QUAGMIRE_PIGEON =DEAD = "Cold and dead.",GENERIC = "Would you like to be a pie, little bird?",SLEEPING = "It's practicing for the big sleep.",QUAGMIRE_LAMP_POST = "It sheds light on nothing important.",QUAGMIRE_BEEFALO = "Don't worry. You'll be dead soon.",QUAGMIRE_SLAUGHTERTOOL = "Is all of life not a slaughter?",QUAGMIRE_SAPLING = "We will perish before this grows back.",QUAGMIRE_BERRYBUSH = "It shall never grow another berry.",QUAGMIRE_ALTAR_STATUE2 = "Yet another reminder of death.",QUAGMIRE_ALTAR_QUEEN = "I am not impressed by opulence.",QUAGMIRE_ALTAR_BOLLARD = "A post. Not very exciting.",QUAGMIRE_ALTAR_IVY = "Like death, it creeps everywhere.",QUAGMIRE_LAMP_SHORT = "The only light in my light is Abigail.",

#dialogueblogue #dst spoilers #the gorge #anonymous

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wordsaremybestfriends · 6 years

Text

Didn’t Ask For This Chapter 3

Hey friends!! Back again for another chapter of this thing…

I’m not sure how active I’ll be around the holidays but I really hope I can post one more chapter next week. After that, I’d like to post every Tuesday if my schedule permits it, but I’ll figure that out later. Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Cursing, child abuse, vocal abuse, violence, *TELL ME IF YOU FIND ANYTHING ELSE*

Dustin royally fucked up.

I mean, unknowingly bringing a baby demogorgon into the house was already a fuck up, in heins sight, but now, he completely, 100% fucked Hawkins over.

After school, he had made sure everyone met at the AV club, including Max. He didn’t care about the dirty looks Mike had given him about their newest recruit and opted instead to focus on the angry blob that he had found on the table in front of them.

Everything was fine, of course, until Dart decided to jump a little bit, and out the front door. Though the five kids were in pursuit of the slug creature, he was nowhere in Hawkins Middle School, and it was already past time to head home for all of them.

Dustin wasn’t surprised to see Emma home already, eating a peanut butter and jelly at their counter and flipping through a book of Greek mythology. When she looked up, however, the pure fire in her eyes froze every cell in his body.

Though she had changed into a pair of tight jeans and a heavier red and purple sweater, a scarf wrapped around her hair to keep it out of her face, the girl looked like she could level cities with one look. She rose from her barstool, arms crossed, and she looked more like their mother than her loving older sister.

“You didn’t think to wake me up this morning, dorkwad.” She was less angry than she was this morning, but the look on her face was certainly not a pleasant one. “I missed calculus, physics, and homeroom!”

He paled. “I was… I woke up and was going to, you know… kill the thing I found last night.” He said it with a straight face, no smirk or wry smile as usual, and it didn’t escape her sister’s intense eye.

“Where did you kill it?” She asked, arms crossed over her chest. “They’re not easy to kill, especially without Eleven with us.”

“Bat.” He replied quickly. His hands began to sweat nervously in his pockets, as his sister rose from her seat, leaning against the tiled countertop. Her usually bright amber gaze was dark from her stare, and even though he knew she wasn’t really angry at him, he couldn’t shake the fact that she might just kill him if she knew what was going on. “S-Steve Harrington. H-His bat. The one with the nails in it, from last time.”

With an unmanicured hand, she flicked a lone chocolate-colored curl off of her shoulder, and began to round the counter. “Funny that he didn’t mention anything at school today. I could always call him up and ask, you know. He lives about two miles down the road, he could be here in an instant.”

“F-Fine!” Dustin said, hands suddenly raised to his head in surrender. He didn’t know Steve super well, but he knew the boy could easily bullshit a lie, just to save some face. “Call him! He’ll just say what I told you!”

Emma wasted no time picking up the landline and dialing the Harrington household, fire in her eyes. Her little brother was going to pay big time if he was lying. The only thing she hoped was true was the fact that the mini demogorgon was gone, and they could go back to life as usual, as if nothing had ever happened.

The line only rang a few times before she heard it connect, the pleasant voice of Mrs. Harrington on the other side. “Harrington residence, Mrs. speaking…”

“Hi Mrs. Harrington, it’s Emma, a friend of Steve’s,” Emma began. “I was just wondering-”

Instantly, Mrs. Harrington, like most mothers, launched herself into a whole speech about ‘oh, Emma Henderson! What a lovely surprise!’ and ‘I was hoping someone would help him with his writing, he’s not doing so well’. Emma impatiently tapped her fingers against the cord and turned to find Dustin missing from his spot in the living room. If that little snot left me mid-argument, I’m going to shave off an eyebrow tonight.

“Mrs. Harrington!” Emma almost shouted over the line. “I need to talk to Steve, is he there?”

“Oh, no sweetie!” She cooed over the line, and Emma wanted to either disconnect the phone or run straight to the Harringtons to disconnect theirs instead. “He left a bit ago to work on a history project with Nancy Wheeler at her house. I don’t think he knows any of our presidents, so he really needs all the help he can get-”

Emma threw the phone back on it’s dock, marching straight into the living room, where Dustin’s bag still sat. “Dustin Peter Henderson, you get your butt here RIGHT-”

The form of her brother barreled straight into her stomach, launching them straight into the couch. The fear of God seemed to be radiating from Dustin, a hand clasped over his sister’s mouth as he looked back to his room warily. His entire body shook, as he kept repeating the same phrase on a loop, like some kind of broken gramophone. “I messed up, I messed up, I messed up!”

Another glare was shot at her brother as she wrenched his slimy hand off her mouth. “What the hell, Dustin-”

“You need to shut up, Em, like right now!” Dustin hissed as he looked warily down the hall where his room was. “Look, you were right and I should have listened to you, but I didn’t and I really really messed up this time, okay?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” She hissed as Dustin looked rapidly from his room to his sister, hands squeezing her arm tightly. “Did you clog the toilet again or something?”

“Um,” He murmured, Emma still trying to wrench her hand away from him. “I’m sorry in advance, okay?”

Her eyes followed his, seeing the closed door. It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together.

“You kept the demogorgon, didn’t you?” She asked, voice eerily slow and calm as her body went still.

Dustin nodded beside her. “It ate Mews, Emma.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“And it’s bigger this time.”

The soft sound of a growl, or at least, something akin to that, echoed through the empty house and both kids were glued to their spots.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Emma mumbled, eyes closed as she let her body fall against the wall..They were either about to die, or unleash a beast that wanted to feed on every person in Hawkins. Both were probable, and both were mostly unavoidable at the moment. “You let a monster into our house that we’ve already fought. You let it live in your room, then lied to me about killing it. You also let it eat the cat while we were at school.”

He turned to his sister, reaching to grasp her shoulders. “Look, we can talk more about me being an idiot later, but for now, Em, please, you have to help me trap it.”

A laugh escaped her lips, quiet and high, as if he was delirious from too many painkillers. “Trap it? The beast that ate Barb and kept Will in the Upside Down? The one that Eleven gave her life up for?”

“It came from the same place as the last one, right?” He hissed, eyes wide with the probability of catching the beast. “We could make it take us there, maybe rescue Eleven, figure out what’s going on-”

“You want to talk to a monster that ate our CAT?” Emma squeaked, tears of stress and frustration clouding her eyes. “You think a monster that killed a bunch of people is willing to have a conversation with us?”

He shrugged. “We could always burn the house down, like at the Byers.”

Emma was silent as she kept switching from looking at Dustin’s closed door to her little brother, wishing this entire mess was just another bad dream. Some twisted, awful dream that ended with her and her brother lying dead on their horrid cream couch, awaiting the same fate as their defenseless cat.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Emma shook her head, eyes boring into Dustin’s. “But… We cleaned out the storm cellar last summer. And in case you haven’t eaten it, we might have the bologna Mom bought the other day.”

Her little brother’s eyes brightened as he suddenly launched into a plan, his sister’s incredulous expression never deterring the detailed explanation.

———

With thirty seven slices of bologna laid out in a perfect trail from Dustin’s door to the storm cellar, the two siblings were ready for the mostly idiotic plan that might just kill both of them. The small clubhouse Dustin and Emma made in the side yard would be their base, with a clear view of the opening to the cellar. Hockey stick in hand and fifteen pounds of weight strapped across his body, the youngest Henderson was waiting for his sister, drawing the demogorgon’s attention to the bologna (and their most likely imminent death) with her old shin guards from soccer, umpire mask from softball, and a pair of football pads Dustin had gotten at a yard sale once. Eyes trained on the blue door, she shifted weight from side to side, spinning the trash can lid in her right and clenching an old guitar she had learned to play at one point. Billions of scenarios ran through her head as she waited for confidence to fill her, eagerly tiptoeing towards the bologna trail through the living room.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” She murmured to herself as she took another silent step towards her brother’s room.

She passed seven slices of bologna, arriving to the last slice that was placed just next to the door. The shake in her hands was hardly contained now, and she doubted she’d stop it anytime soon. Not with a bloodthirsty monster in the house.

With a breath held tight in her chest, Emma slipped her guitar into her free hand, thin, nimble fingers free and ready to pull the gold handle back. Her fingers grasped the cool metal, and without a second thought, she tugged it open, bolting straight down the hall, out of the living room, and straight to her brother in the shed.

“You did it?” Dustin asked as Emma pressed her body against the door, eyes straining to look through the wooden slats. “Is he coming?”

“Shut up and watch for him!” She hissed, and his body velcroed itself towards the small openings, eyes looking straight into the yard for any sense of movement from the front of their house.

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Emma felt her hands shake, the trash lid clattering against her mismatched armor. There was no sight of the slimy slug that had apparently grown since the last time she saw him. It almost would have been nicer to die than to have to wait another few agonizing moments here, helpless and hopelessly awaiting the possibility her brother’s plan had actually worked.

“Maybe he likes real meat, not the processed stuff?” Dustin whispered, and Emma let her eyes slip closed for a moment. There was no way in hell she was going out to be a lure for that damn thing.

Come on, you stupid thing. Get out here. Get in that damn cellar-

The glint of sunlight on the moist skin of a dog-like creature caught both the kids attention. Silence filled the small clubhouse as they kept their eyes focused on the slug like it was magnetized to their sight. It sucked up another piece of the sliced meat, then another, until it was three slices from the cellar.

They were so close. They were feet away. They might actually survive. All they had to do was keep quiet, and all would be okay.

Of course, until Dustin coughed quietly, softer than the drop of a pin to a passerby.

The demogorgon snapped it’s neck backwards at them, hissing and growling. It had found them.

They were going to die.

They were going to be killed because of a cough.

They were in deep shit.

“Plan B!” Dustin screamed, launching himself out of the small door and swinging his hockey stick at the green creature. It fell a few feet backwards like a lifeless doll, though never ceasing it’s disgusting scream out. Emma ran out past him, taking a wind up with the back of her guitar to launch the hideous being straight down the flight of stairs into the dusty darkness below.

With both hands, Emma smashed the metal doors down, trapping the creature with a triumphant scream. Her body fell atop the handles, holding the doors down as it fought back, hissing and screeching as loud as it could. Dustin grabbed a chain, one they had from the garage, and looped it through the handles as much as he could, securing it with a lock for sure, and after a moment, the fight stopped, silence coming from the cellar instead.

Emma let out a breath, rolling backwards on the doors with her football pads clattering against it. “We almost died right now.”

“Yup.” Her brother answered, breathing still quick. His eyes were a bit unfocused as he slid to the ground beside his sister.

“We just caught a demogorgon.” She added, voice eerily calm.

“Yup.”

“Our cat just died.”

“Yup.”

“We need backup.”

“Yup.”

After completely locking up the storm cellar with a lock and chain as well as at least fifty pounds of other junk to keep the door down, the two began the trip to the Wheeler household. Emma was on her old moped, Dustin hanging off the back with her helmet on as he watched the quiet houses fly by. The trees were already beginning their change into fall, filling the yards with a kaleidoscope of colors that were anywhere from the skin of a crisp apple to the shine of her honey bee yellow moped, small bits of clover green spread throughout.

It was just enough to make her forget about the bloodthirsty monster that was locked in her front yard that had just killed her cat.

The Wheeler house looked empty from the outside, as usual. Now that trouble was once again stirring up in town, it was a shot in the dark for where the rest of Dustin’s friends were. Will’s house was almost three miles out from their house, and since Erica had told Dustin that Lucas was out for now, it seemed like Mike’s house was the best option at the moment. The family car was out front, though the lights seemed dim and life didn’t seem to course through the house like it did with the kids around.

Emma came to an easy stop at the base of the Wheeler’s front yard, letting her younger brother jump off. He threw the helmet back at her as he dashed up to the door, ringing the doorbell as obnoxiously as he could.

The entire situation was incredulous to her. She had a mini demogorgon, one that she had captured with her younger brother, stuffed in their storm cellar, and none of her brother’s friends were around to help them figure out what the fuck was going on. Last time, it was easier. Of course, Nancy and Jonathan were stuck with starry eyed gazes at one another, Steve trying to apologize for being a giant dickwad to Jonathan and replace his broken camera, and Emma was just trying to pass her sociology class, but those were the biggest worries of them. When Nancy and Jonathan had first started their plan to catch the monster, Emma began to tag along. She was the smartest, most resourceful one out of all of them, and could help them out in a pinch if needed.

The two girls had gotten into too many messes to count, though being stuck in the Byers’ home trying to catch a creature from another dimension that had supposedly took their friend Barb was definitely one of their biggest. When the creature disappeared, only to reappear moments later in the living room, she had gotten pulled under the creature, it’s flowered face mere inches above her as she felt a bit of it’s slime spread onto her face. Flashes of her father’s enraged face passed through her gaze, and she was pinned to the ground. Her body was rigid, breathing rapid, as slime had begun to drip against her cheek. She could only stare at the hundreds of teeth from within the mouth, wishing that maybe, just maybe, she could have a quick and painless death, one that wouldn’t haunt Nancy and Jonathan for the rest of their lives.

And then, there was nothing but the hazy roof of the Byers’ house above her. Her hands shook as she could only think of her father’s face in front of her, screaming at her and beating her until she couldn’t bear to stay awake for the rest of it. Tufts of the carpet were gathered into her fingers as she curled onto her side with tears gathering in her eyes. Raspy, uneven breaths came out from her mouth as she tried to compose herself in front of Steve and Jonathan, even though nothing could quell the shake in her body. The only sound she could hear was the ringing in her ears, as she let her eyes close, tears leaking onto the ground below her.

Nancy had broke from the two boys as soon as she realized that her best friend wasn’t right by her side. Emma’s state was one she had dealt with before when the memories came back of the screams and the hurt her father would cause. In one motion, Nancy gathered her friend into her arms, holding her small, tremor-filled state as tight as she could from her lips. Small whispers fell from her lips, ones that Emma nodded along to for a few minutes until she could finally raise her head, just to look at her best friend and utter out a few words to her, a watery smile on her face.

“We won?”

“We won.”

And that should have been the end of it. She should have been able to sleep since that night, no more nightmares of what could have been. No more fear creeping out of her each time she drove home from the library in the dark. No more constant glances over her shoulder. No more screams that fell from her lips, every time she found herself pushed on her back.

But it’s started again. And if it took them a few weeks to get over the last one, Emma could only imagine what it would be like to have to deal with a dozen of these suckers.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

She shot her head up, her soft curls bouncing along with her. Only a few feet in front of her was Steve Harrington’s car, him just emerging with a textbook in his hands. He wore his signature brown bomber jacket, his hair as wild and messy as it was this morning at school.

“Why do you care?” She replied as he rounded the front of the car, face solemn.

“I’m studying with Nancy today,” He muttered, eyes flicking back to his textbook. Emma didn’t waste her time to gaze longer at her, watching her little brother repeatedly ring the doorbell to make at least one of the Wheeler’s get to the door. “History.”

“Glad it’s not human anatomy,” Emma said with a smug smile, flattening the chuckle in her chest.

Steve glared from beside her as he began to grit his teeth. “Look, I told Natalie I didn’t want to be with her, like in a relationship.”

“So that’s why she was crying to me at my locker between classes, right?” Emma asked, eyes never looking over to him. “Because, as I told you before, all your little flames come to me for advice, whether you want them to or not.”

He scoffs. “So what, you just know exactly what goes on at school, at all times?”

“Only the interesting stuff,” She shrugs as she goes back to checking her chipping nail polish instead. “Which most often concerns you.”

“You know what?” He snapped, eyes locked in a glare at Emma’s temple as she barely moved a muscle. She had dealt with more frightening things than an insecure teenage boy. “I don’t get why you’re so mad at me for living my life. For God’s sakes, you’re not perfect either!”

“I never said I was perfect,” She drawled, smirking as she turned to face the boy. “And I never said I was mad. You did.”

Before he could reply, Dustin began to cross back from the lawn, groaning to himself. “Neither of them are home, and Mr. Wheeler’s about as useless as a pile of bricks.”

“I could have told you that,” Emma said, mounting her bike once again as she tossed the helmet to her brother. “So I guess we’re going to the Byers’s next?”

“What’s at the Byers’s?” Steve asked, eyeing the two. “Is everything okay?”

“Peachy,” Dustin replied with a roll of his eyes. “I mean, if you call having a baby demogorgon in your storm cellar peachy…”

“Dustin!” Emma barked from the bike. “We’re not even supposed to be talking about that out here. There’s ears everywhere, kid.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve asked as Dustin slipped the helmet over his baseball cap and stepped onto the back of his sister’s scooter. “There’s another one?”

“In our basement, yes,” Dustin said as his sister swatted at his leg, aiming a scowl at him.

“And you guys need help to kill it?” He asked, smirking. “‘Cause I still have my bat, you know-”

“We don’t need your help, Harrington,” Emma shouted as she pressed her foot onto the gas and began to speed down the street. She barely gave him a second glance as she turned down another street, and disappeared from his sight.

With a small smirk, the boy began to climb back into his car and tossed the textbook into his backseat. He threw the car in drive and began to pull away from the Wheeler’s lawn, following the two Henderson kids.

If they had really found another demogorgon from last time, they’d need as much help as they could get.

And a bat with nails was pretty handy in a time like this.

TAG LIST: @luv2reade16 @lillie-writes @harringtonwife @tiarrasmith @sarahmariedesserts @kararanae23

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roxannarambles · 6 years

Text

Dumb ‘ship ramblings/cut fanfic scene under the link

In one of my original conceptions of my fic I imagined Heath & Legault becoming close friends much sooner in the story and Heath slowly developing a massive dorky crush on Legault

and eventually he ends up having very . . . very detailed, interesting dreams about him :3 which fluster and upset him to no end.

and one of the nights he wakes up from an especially vivid dream and decides to go have a cold shower ahahaha

so he goes to the mens shower tent (I mean, they had those in awakening, not mentioned in blazing blade I guess but ah well) and gets into one of the lil stalls like . . . you know, like they have in MASH? (they’re just wood boards up to waist-level or so to provide a minimal level of privacy) and turns the water on and is like “urggh . . . .”

[in the stall next to him, someone pops up]

legault: hi!

Heath: AAAHH!

XD But anyway, along that original outline, I had already written a full chapter that I eventually ended up reworking & using for later on instead

Thought I’d post the original here for the freaking heck of it though. ‘Cause . . . I still sometimes think about that alternate route I guess. Maybe in a future fic I’ll do something else with those strands of ideas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It was lovely chatting with you. I hope people continue to shower you in riches."

"Hah! This is the most business I've had all month! Come back any time you like."

Legault smiled,

"Not sure when I'll be out this way again, but I'll keep it in mind."

The bells hanging off the door jangled merrily as Legault exited the small shop. The air smelled crisp and fresh, the sun just starting to slip below the horizon. A young man was walking down the small village street lighting the street lamps, and a few other late shoppers were milling about, but it was largely empty and quiet. The quaint little mountain village was one of the last in the chain Eliwood's army had been passing through, and it was a welcome bit of peace before the next part of their journey.

Legault stepped out onto the street, trying his best to juggle all the goods he had in tow. The crew had needed to restock on a number of supplies and he gladly volunteered for the duty. The simple truth was, in between the sudden spats of battling, travel with Eliwood's group could be terribly dull at times. Buying supplies was at least something to do. The other source of Legault's entertainment as of late, pestering Heath during his nightwatch, was unfortunately not available this evening. Eliwood's company was camped just outside of the village, being far too numorous to occupy the tiny village inns, and the Lords had not seen any reason to put up a watch for tonight. The village was tucked away in a very sheltered location in the mountains, and rarely saw troublemakers of any sort.

Legault hummed to himself as he strolled down the village street, wondering if everyone else had already returned to camp. He knew a few others had gone out to either fool about or ask the locals about the best path out of the mountains. Considering how long it had taken him to gather up supplies, he imagined everyone had left by now. As he passed by the pub, he peered through the window, but nothing of particular interest seemed to be going on inside; just a few denizens nursing their ales. He carried on walking, past a row of mossy-roofed storefronts.

Legault was in the midst of ruminating on the shoe repair shop he was passing, considering how worn his boots had become, when some low voices caught his ear. He slowed and looked about, trying to pinpoint the source. There was something decidedly . . . threatening about the voices, and it made his skin prickle. Cautiously, he traced the sounds to the lip of a wide alleyway sandwiched between a row of stores and a little church of St. Elime. As he carefully peeked around the corner, what he saw made his blood run cold.

There were wyvern riders-- three of them-- all in shining-bright armor, flowing capes, carrying ornate silver lances. They sat upon pitch-black wyverns, larger and more vicious-looking than he was used to seeing. The trio had their lances drawn and trained upon a man who was backed up against the alley wall. It was Heath.

Legault ducked back to the edge of the wall and shoved aside the bundle of goods he'd been carrying, and then peered down the alley again. Heath was not injured, and was standing with a defiant look upon his face, but his weapon was noticably absent. After a moment Legault spotted it against the wall, to the left of one of the fat wyverns, well beyond reach. The three wyvern knights easily blocked Heath's exit completely. Legault's heart sank as it became perfectly clear this was the moment they'd often spent discussing-- Heath's tormentors catching up to him when he least expected. And now they had him literally backed into a corner.

The thief spun and looked about frantically, searching for someone, anyone else about-- what the fuck was he supposed to do? It was as silent and solitary as the grave out here, with no hope of assistance. These were goddamn wyvern lords. Three of them. He stood there, with nothing more than his pitiful little dagger. He couldn't take on three wyvern lords like this. The element of surprise meant nothing when you would be swatted away like a fly.

"Try to understand," one of the wyvern riders was saying in a low, dangerous tone,

"It's not that we wouldn't enjoy gutting you right here. But we have our orders to take you alive if possible. The General really had his heart set on a public execution."

"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction," Heath spat.

"So you'd rather die in some alley, alone, like the coward you are?"

Legault felt the dump of adrenaline in his system start to make his hands shake and his entire body quiver. He scanned the alley wildly, searching for a solution-- there had to be something. The sides were all bricked off solidly, no gaps or niches, no slipping through. The wall Heath was backed against was too high for him to climb. Legault's eye settled upon the top of the wall. Too high to climb, but if Legault circled around from the other side of the alley and stepped up from the shop ledges, he could drop down? But what use was that? At most, he'd last a few seconds before being shredded. If only he'd bought a mine or something today--

Legault turned and yanked at the bundle of vulneries and other random items from the shop. The wyvern lords continued to threaten Heath as Legault's hand fell upon a couple of torches Eliwood had asked him to buy. He had no flint, but his eye whipped up to the lit street lamps. There was no time to wonder if it would work.

The next part was a bit of a blur for Legault. He honestly was not even aware of moving around the corner to reach the alley from the opposite side and getting up the wall, but it must have happened, because the next thing he knew, he was perched above everyone, seeing the wyvern lords from above, watching their eyes lift up curiously, almost as if in slow-motion. He remembered the way he held the torch aloft in one hand as he leapt, sliding down the wall with his other hand, the rough brick digging and tearing at his fingers. He did not recall feeling his feet touching the ground, but he did recall the sound of his boots slamming down, the noise echoing in the tiny space. He knew he took the torch in both hands, and he leapt forth, charging with a scream, spinning and whipping the flames wildly to and fro, rushing headlong into the trio of wyverns.

The scene was twisted chaos, the massive hulking beasts screaming and rearing up, wings, tails, and lances flailing wildly. Legault spun the torch right at the dragon's faces, driving it right into their eyes and snouts, dazzling their vision and making them shriek and leap, bucking their riders about. Over the screaming he could hear Heath shout something, although he had no idea what. As Legault saw an opening appear among the panicing wyverns, he shouted back to Heath as loud as he could:

"I'VE GOT THIS! RUN!"

Heath dashed forward, but he yanked his wayward lance off the ground and sprang back up, yelling,

"LIKE HELL!"

Lances clashed together and armor scraped against the alley wall, as Legault cursed under his breath and doggedly kept after the wyverns, not wanting them to regain their composure and footing. It was starting to become a problem, though-- and he was standing in the midst of three extremely angry, frightened monsters that were eventually going to tear his head off, no matter how artful his dodging. Barely avoiding the low sweep of a massive tail, Legault cried out as a brilliant shooting pain ran through him, a silver lance embedding deep into his shoulder. The wyvern lord wrenched the lance out savagely and thrust again, the blade destined for Legault's heart, but Heath's sideswipe battered it aside with frightful velocity. A horrid metal scrape cut the air as another of the lords drove their lance into Heath's back, and Legault watched as the jaws of death seemed to close around them, the wyvern riders closing in from all sides. He blinked hazily at the torch he'd dropped on the floor.

With his good arm he snatched the torch back up and threw it spinning into the face of the man gouging into Heath's side. The lord twisted about wildly, battering into his brother, and Legault felt his arm being yanked. White-hot pain filled all his perception, dragged along by his injured limb, and then he collided with the alley wall. He felt an arm wrap around him and haul him along, and it took far too long for him to realize Heath was dragging them out of there.

Somehow, they made it to the mouth of the alley. Legault's head was swimming, but his survival instinct cut through and he rasped,

"Not this way, go over there!"

"But camp is that way!"

"Trust me! We're not making it back to camp like this!"

Heath complied and they spun about, hobbling frantically along the street. The trip was agonizing, a walk that took a minute feeling like centuries now. Against all odds, they lumbered past the row of shops and came upon a familiar sight.

"In there!"

Heath didn't question Legault's choice and instead pushed the both of them through the door, bells crashing and clanging as they barged in. The shop owner looked up at them, jaw hanging agape.

"Came back a bit sooner than I expected," Legault said with a pained smile. The shopkeeper spluttered,

"What happened?!"

"I'll be sure to regale you with the details later. Could you hide us for now?"

The woman glanced around, a moment of hesitation in her eye, but then she nodded and gestured,

"Over here, just-- get behind the counter, there's nowhere else!"

The two came forward gratefully and dropped down, diving behind the small counter space behind her. It was only a minute or so before the door jangled open again.

Heavy boots stepped in and the door slammed shut.

"Good evening," the shopkeeper said, large smile glued to her face, but she'd gone a bit pale. The boots stepped forward, and a cold voice replied,

"Good evening. I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me."

"Sure," she said, her tone full of forced cheer.

The cold voice drew closer as the man came right up to them.

"My friends and I are pursuing some very dangerous men. They've just passed by through here. We know they cannot have gone far."

"O-oh. That's-- that's not good."

"Have you seen anyone tonight?"

"Well, uh. I. . . I had a few customers earlier today?"

"It is a tall man with spiked green hair and armor that bears a symbol like my own. He is with a caped man with lavander hair."

The shop keeper swallowed, but answered,

"Don't think I've seen anyone like that, sorry."

Legault could feel the tension in the air, although he could see nothing from his position on the floor but the nervous shopkeeper. After a beat, the voice asked,

"Are you certain?"

The shopkeeper nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

The voice came coolly,

"I see. I want to be clear: they are both very dangerous. One is to stand trial for high treason and slaughtering innocents. The other is his accomplice. They will kill without hesitation."

Legault heard a creak as the man leaned against the counter.

"I wouldn't want you to come to harm if you failed to mention anything."

The shop owner stared, like a jackrabbit caught in a trap, apparently locked in the wyvern lord's gaze. Legault bit his lip, silently watching and praying.

The shopkeeper forced the smile back onto her face.

"Thank you for checking on me," she said,

"That's very kind of you. I hope you'll have the time to check on my neighbors as well. Do you think you'll be able to keep our village safe?"

The cold voice answered flatly,

"As long as we have cooperation, yes."

"That's a relief. I'm sure everyone will be happy to help. You see, everyone here, we look out for each other."

"Is that so?"

She nodded, then narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah. We can't stand to see anyone down on their luck. If we were to come across anyone like that . . . we'd do what we could to help them."

The little shop was very quiet for a few moments, and then;

"Be sure to inform us if you notice anything unusual later."

"Of course. I hope you find those horrible men."

The door slammed shut with enough force that the bells went crashing off entirely. The shopkeeper looked intently for a few moments out the window, then gave the all-clear. Heath unfolded from the tiny space and Legault grimaced as he helped him climb to his feet.

"My dear, that was-- ahh! ooh. easy-- that was masterfully done. Thank you--"

"--look, I don't know your story, but you two better beat feet. They're headed off towards the cottages, but that won't occupy them long."

Legault nodded at her and they shuffled over to the door, Heath telling her before stepping out,

"You have our deepest gratitude."

"Just get out of here! You're bleeding on the floor."

The journey back to camp was exhausting, but it seemed they were able to succesfully give their pursuers the slip. Village roads gave way to a dusty trail that cut across a fallow field and over a small creek, then wound through some trees before reaching the edge of camp. Heath had to half-drag Legault along, but they made a decent pace. It was only when they began entering camp that Legault realized his vision was starting to go black at the edges.

"Um, I have a problem."

Heath tugged Legault along, saying,

"We're there, come on, we've made it back!"

Legault felt his legs buckle and then everything was spinning. He was vaguely aware of Heath grabbing at him and shouting:

"Legault! Don't you dare! Get up!"

"Sorry," Legault mumbled, as his vision was swallowed up in blackness.

When he later woke, it was only through a disorienting fog upon his mind. Everything was too bright when he first opened his eyes, and he mumbled, squinting them shut again. He tried to move, shifting a little, but a little spark of pain stopped him from going far.

"Hey," a sudden voice said, drawing nearer,

"Hey, you awake?"

He winced as somebody prodded at him.

"Can you hear me? You should be doing way better now."

Cautiously, Legault opened his eyes, recognizing the pig-tailed girl staring down at him as Serra, one of the clerics.

"Oh, joy," he said, voice thick with sarcasm.

"I know, isn't it? That's what many people say when they see me. How you feeling?"

Legault regarded the cot he was laid across a moment and the dreary canvas ceiling of the medical tent.

"My head feels like it's full of cotton. How long-- aah!"

He stopped in his attempt at sitting up, slipping back into the pillow.

"Oh, don't do that. You're not ready yet, you need one more healing session. You lost a lot of blood. Like, a lot."

"I did?"

"Don't you remember?"

Legault mumbled,

"I may recall something about running around and doing something really stupid."

"Yeah, that's what the knight who brought you in here said. Wow, he was super rude, too. He kept yelling at me. Oh, that reminds me."

She vanished from sight, towards the other side of the tent, hollering,

"Hey! Wyvern guy! Your friend's awake!"

After a few moments, a lanky figure appeared over Legault, crossing his arms and smiling a little.

"You moron."

"Good to see you too."

"You should be dead right now."

"Yes, but so should you."

Heath gestured widely,

"What happened to being stealthy?"

Legault chuckled, which hurt a little.

"Even I can't sneak up on three mounted wyvern lords. What would I do, throw rocks at them?"

"So you charged directly at them with a torch instead?"

Legault smiled sheepishly.

"Well, maybe you're rubbing off on me."

Heath shook his head,

"No, even I'm not that brash."

"Hey, it wasn't that crazy. I remembered you telling me wyverns feared fire."

"But that doesn't-- gods, Legault, you're made of sterner steel than I'd thought."

Legault laughed,

"Ow. I think you were right the first time, I am kind of a moron."

Heath gazed at him a moment. Quieter, he asked,

"Why did you do it?"

The thief gave a loopy smile and replied,

"Must be this thing called 'love', you know?"

"Legault--"

"All right, all right, sorry. Look, it's no big deal, right? That's what friends do for friends fleeing from relentless headhunters."

The knight studied him with intense pale eyes. His voice came almost gently as he said,

"I would have--"

"--are you two done? I need to get back to work here!"

Heath turned and scowled at Serra. Legault glared daggers at her.

"Don't give me those looks! You both need second healing sessions and I have another person to take care of, too. That's on top of the supplies I have to pack tonight! I'm a very busy girl!"

Legault heaved a sigh. He glanced to Heath.

"I guess visiting hours are over. I'll see you when I'm a little more vertically-inclined, hm?"

Heath nodded at him.

"Hopefully the additional exposure to the cleric will not be too damaging to your health."

It took Serra several moments, but then she becried,

"HEY! What's that supposed to mean?!"

Legault supressed his smirk as Serra shooed the knight away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mystuff #tbh I have over 50 pages of bits of cut or modified content #and notes and outlines and alternative scenes #fire emblem #legault/heath #fe7 #fanfic

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its-love-u-asshole · 7 years

Text

Unbound [Ch. 1]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki

Rating: T

Summary: Summer is Yata’s favorite time of the year in his town, a place where it normally rains nonstop nine months out of the year. It doesn’t help that the town is marred by old legends and tales which do nothing to make it less creepy and drab. Essentially, summer is Yata’s chance to forget superstitions and finally hit the beach. Apart from deciding what he wants to do with his life, all he wants is to enjoy it with his friends and maybe get to know Fushimi Saruhiko, a stranger who Yata can’t help but feel drawn to. However, the summer has more in store for him than usual, and he’s never been one to back down.

AO3

Note: Sarumi fest! I’m so happy I get to participate this year as well ^^ This is a fic I’ve been working on for over a year really, and I have constantly gone back and forth about finishing and posting it lol. It’s an important project to me though, so I figured why not post it for fest and see what people think? ^^

Big thanks to @emeraldwaves and @brynne-lagaao for talking over this fic with me back in the past!

Enjoy!

The old cemetery, which resides isolated and forgotten on the south edge of the city, houses the dead from long ago, before industrialization came, before buildings and phones. The history is dull and no longer taught, though some still hang on rather tightly to it, including the lore which always shrouded the rainy plains.

At the rusted iron gate of the cemetery, there is an inscription. No author has even been recognized for it.

“There is a legend in these parts.

It is widely accepted despite never being proven.

Should one choose to make a life here, it is best to know of the fate which awaits you.

When it is one’s time to die, a beast of the shadows will appear at the threshold of your home, teeth barred and ready to strike. It is a monstrous thing, scarring and beautiful, large and as black as coal. It will paralyze you where you stand, it will render everything worthless. It does not speak, it does not show mercy. It is an emotionless creature with only one job: to drag you into darkness. Do not try to run, do not try to fight. Such attempts are futile. You cannot escape. Death is imminent.”

They were looking at one of his old photos. Old, as in it had clipped edges, burned with a lighter in the moments he'd been too angry to continue staring, when his desire to erase such memories was strongest. Basically, it was from a time when he actually allowed himself to be in pictures at all, and that time had come and gone long ago.

Looking at it now though, as it was held in Douhan's delicate, manicured hands, he almost let himself believe he'd been overreacting. The pressed green jewels on her index finger and thumb slid over the shadows of his plump face, the childish pout and the beginnings of his characteristic creased brow were already forming even at the young age of six. The quality of the family portrait was mediocre, or no, that was him being unexpectedly kind. It was a horrid quality, the shadows of the image casting a menacing look over his father's smug face while the light shone upon his mother's with a false celestial glow. How quaint, how fitting, since that was how she paraded herself back then, as less evil than the man beside her.

And then there was his younger self. Small, skinny, and his hands still a little dirty from being out by the lake. His glasses were crooked and his clothes too tight, he’d hated those fancy collars and button ups. Useless. Presentation was everything, she would say, the lie was everything. Though, with someone like Fushimi Kisa, who never attended festivals and who he’d once caught tearing down holiday decorations, he had to wonder what compelled her to arrange a family portrait in the first place.

"You look so cute," the blonde commented, the light tilt of her lips causing him to glare as he was brought back to the present. No matter how long he'd known her, her smug intentions and concealed jests annoyed him to no end, especially this time, when—

"This is what I mean though, you look so naive and innocent," she continued, flipping the photo over, pretending to analyze the date on the back as her eyes flashed with cunning. Honestly, why he allowed her to make a fool out of him, why he came to visit her at all, was a total mystery to him.

Saruhiko stared out of the bay window, which took up half the wall of her small home. The weeds out front were overgrown, covering all but the corners of the glass and no doubt beginning to grow into the chipped bricks the house was made of. The plants stood out between the houses on either side of Douhan's, those homes had fresh cut lawns, rose bushes, and neat upkeep. Whereas the windows to those homes let in all the sky had to offer in terms of darkness and sunlight, the pane of the blonde's allowed only occasional streams of light or droplets of water through. The window itself was molded with intricate designs on the borders, the curtains as silky as they were unnecessary, as if she saw guests far more important than himself to appreciate such expensive items. But no, Douhan was not an entertainer, and her door remained locked for all except him. And again, why was he here?

"It reminds me of how you look now--"

"Shut it," he cut her off, standing up as he quickly made his way to the door. He’d been getting restless all evening, and now the weather was finally taking a turn for the worst. It was raining out, and he only had a single coat to shield him, but it was the least of his problems..."I don't have to listen to you and your--"

"Theories? But they're not, are they?" Douhan sighed, kicking the shoebox of old photos to the floor. They’d served their purpose already. Meaningless now. "You're going to go look for him now too aren't you? Normal people talk to the ones they like, they don't--"

"Why would I do a stupid thing like that?" He let each footstep he took towards the door accompany each part of the question, the wood creaking beneath his sneakers like he'd fall through the floor with any more force.

"Because you wanted advice deep down? Because you are in lo--"

"Those things don't happen to me, or to people who have never met," Saruhiko replied, before he realized he was probably pouting very much like his childhood self, and turned his expression into a schooled sneer. "Don't you have better things to do?"

"Yes but this is more fun." She twirled a lock of her hair, absently staring out of the covered window like she was watching a breathtaking show, and he used the opportunity to turn away, and opened the scratched up door, not flinching when crusts of white paint rained onto the wood below. "Make sure to bring him by sometime, when you get the guts to talk to him."

Yeah right, he thought. Partly because he wanted to believe he wouldn't actually talk to the boy in question, because why would he? And partly because...well, he was feeling spiteful, and the pathetic nature of the acknowledgement itself had him scoffing.

The thunder outside rang through the air, followed by the downpour, and he pulled his hoodie on, his stomach sinking with dread when he took his first step out into the storm. His clock read 4:45 pm. The thunder rumbled on.

"Oh, and Saruhiko?" Douhan's voice was booming through the noise, despite it being calm and neutral in nature, and he no longer found himself baffled about how she managed to do that, only annoyed that she seemed to always know what he was thinking. He clicked his tongue, turning his head back to face her.

Her lips, glossy and pink, tilted up in a knowing smirk before he was smart enough to look away, the words hitting him even as he sprinted out into the rain.

"Have fun."

“Chitose hurry up! We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago!”

A distant rumbling of cars filled the chilly atmosphere, and the sound of a spray can dying and clattering to the ground shrouded the warning. A few more clacks of a new can being prepped filled the gap where a response should’ve been, and the group of boys glared angrily at the source. Perhaps sensing the tension, the spraying ceased, and soon Dewa was being acknowledged with a long, overdramatic sigh.

Here we go, Yata thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

“Hey now,” Chitose addressed Dewa finally, turning away from the paint splattered wall in front of him. The other did not look impressed, as he rarely was with any of Chitose’s antics. No one was ever impressed with them, but it wasn’t as if they could avoid it. They were common, and for whatever reason, their group put up with them. “You can’t rush art.”

More silence.

Chitose shook the spray can again, not bothered by it, and continued his graffiti art on the wall under the freeway. A fresh, vibrant shade of orange shot out, adding definition and brilliance to the wispy lines and details.

They did stuff like this often, just tagging random places and buildings to waste time, to have fun. Plus, the thrill of getting caught was exhilarating, though it hadn’t happened yet. They had a perfect record so far.

Not for long though, if Chitose had anything to do with it.

“You can so! A night at home instead of in jail depends on it,” Bandou supplied, nervously stuffing empty cans into the duffel bag they had brought along. He sloppily wiped his hands on the grass, wincing when they became muddy, the colors bleeding together until it all looked brown. He looked up as if the universe had wronged him, it wasn’t as if he could wipe the substance on his pants after all. No evidence could be left. He chose to ignore Akagi’s snickering nearby in order to focus on the reason for his pain. “Besides, it’s just a dumb horse…thing.”

“It is not a horse dickwad, it’s a Pegasus and it’s flying out of the fiery gates of hell,” Chitose explained, like it needed explaining, adding more red to the artistic looking flames angrily as he did so. It was a nice piece, Yata would begrudgingly admit. The horse was weirdly life like even with its amateur design and weird colors, and it was sure to last a good few months before it faded into the grungy wall. Was it worth the risk though? No fucking way.

Akagi was full blown pissing himself at this point. Yata didn’t know if it was at Bandou’s expense or not, but he envied the other for being able to be so happy in their situation.

“So?”

“Soooo, it’s gonna look bitchin.” Chitose swore again as his can ran out of paint, lazily tossing it behind his shoulder and grabbing another from Fujishima. Despite looking a little more than completely done with Chitose’s shit, the other made no move to stop him. Yata winced at the sound of the can opening. Sometimes Yata wondered how Chitose afforded all the paint he went through with his big projects. “I’m almost done anyways. Like, five minutes tops.”

“When have I heard that before? Oh yeah, just last week, when your over the top mermaid was supposed to look bitchin,” Eric supplied with a scowl, causing the others to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. You guys suck.”

“Guys we’ve been here too long,” Yata finally spoke up, tired of just watching his friends bicker. Sometimes it was funny, today it wasn’t. There was a strange sense of foreboding in the air, and Yata couldn’t help but be superstitious. It did not feel like a day to push their luck. “It’s gonna be five soon. The bridge will be full of cops by the time we get there!”

They didn’t exactly look unsuspicious either, what with their stained clothes and large duffel filled with spray paint. Not to mention, they were hardly dressed in the most proper of outfits.

Yata hadn’t even really wanted to go out that day, too tired from playing videogames and doing chores all throughout the previous evening. With enough pestering from his friends though, he was forced out of his room, greeted by a gloomy day that promised bad weather. He was glad it was almost summer, he missed the brightness and warmth of the sun. Even just thinking about it made him energized. Getting to go to the beach, hike the cliffs…

But that day, the town had continued with its usual foreshadowing of bleakness. Indeed, the rain had started while they were out, making the choice of their graffiti spot easy. They were shielded from the water, underneath a loud freeway on the banks of the river. The horns of cars and the screeching of tires echoed down below, making it hard to hear. Plus, the banks of the river were around the more commercial area of the city, which made the land around them fucking reek.

At the thought, his nose scrunched up, and Yata held back a groan. He couldn’t wait for the rain to be over, and to go back to his neighborhood. Even if it was small and humble, it smelled fresher and there was way less traffic.

Sadly however, there weren’t too many places to paint there. As a result, they often had to travel more towards the city. Whenever they tagged in the area, they’d usually take the old midtown bridge back to their side of town, walking besides the traffic and hoping no officers stopped them. So far, so good.

“We’ll get there before five, quit worrying,” Chitose said while adding on the finishing touches to his large piece. “Aaaand, done!”

As he said it, the last of the can was used up, emitting a low hissing noise to signal its emptiness.

“Yes, yes. Now let’s go!” Bandou zipped up the bag after throwing the last can inside, and Chitose scoffed. Ah no…

“You guys just don’t get my artistic vision.”

Yata rolled his eyes, brushing his hands onto his shorts and grimacing as paint smeared onto them. Fuck, I forgot. His mom was going to have a fit if she saw how dirty he’d gotten.

“I’m not sure if the bridge is such a good idea anymore,” Fujishima spoke up cautiously. “It’s nearly rush hour, it’ll be busy.”

“So?”

“Sooo,” Yata interrupted, “lots of people will totally see us!”

Ugh. They’d probably have to take the long way around. He’d surely be late for dinner, and his mom would have his head no doubt, and coupled with the paint, he’d be doing all the chores tonight.

The group looked frazzled now, unsure of the best way to proceed. Even taking the long way was risky, given the longer they were out carrying their stuff, the more likely they were to be noticed. Not to mention the rain was coming down a bit harder than before, and they were without umbrellas.

Shit…

“This is all Chitose’s fault,” Eric muttered beside Fujishima.

“Oh, and who’s the one that suggested we even come out here?”

A chorus of ‘you’ was shot back at Chitose, causing him to scowl at his so-called friends.

“If we’re going the long way, we better start walking now,” Dewa added in frustration, zipping up his coat to hide his paint stained undershirt.

“More like running…” Bandou’s muttering didn’t go unnoticed by Chitose, who was now flipping him off and offering up a butt load of excuses as to why none of it was his doing.

Yata joined in, trying to will them all to shut up, because he was totally dead meat when he got home if he was more than thirty minutes late. Plus, Yata didn’t exactly like when it was pitch dark outside, something about where he lived creeped him out at night. The woods were like something out of a horror movie (but he’d ever let his friends know that stuff still freaked him out). The atmosphere wasn’t helped by the area’s rain, and Yata never understood why his mom chose to live in a city where in rained nine months out of the year.

“Let’s just risk it! Let’s go on the bridge—”

“Yata, it’s five! With all the college kids walking home from school, it’s almost as long as the other way! And we’re even more likely to get caught!” Bandou was freaking out, pacing back and forth on the dead grass beneath their feet. It sloshed from the rain, sticking to his sneakers.

Yata sighed, close to giving up and accepting his fate.

How was he going to explain himself this time? Traffic? Lost track of the hour? He didn’t have much time to shuffle through his overused excuses, and his own feet began to nervously shift on the muddy ground.

What do we do?

“It’s faster if you use the underpass instead,” an apathetic voice managed to cut through their bickering, causing all heads to turn towards its source in fright. The shock was only amplified by the roar of thunder above their heads, almost mocking their misfortune.

Fuck!

Yata turned in a flash, shoulders tensed up from the prospect of being caught, his feet ready to run.

Damn, if it’s a patrol we’re screwed.

But…no.

Looking over, Yata was met was a completely different sight from the one he’d imagined, and against his will, his breath caught in his throat. The voice had come from a boy their age, slender and tall, wrapped in a cowl neck. His dark, wet hair fell in his eyes, obscuring the uninterested gaze he was sporting. He had glasses on that were a bit smudged from the fog of the rain, and his clothes seemed a bit damp and worn. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a while, his eyes glazed over but trying to keep an intense focus on his surroundings. The bags under them were dark for someone so young, but it didn’t take away from his beauty or the bright blue hue of them. He really did seem a bit unreal. Hell, Yata thought maybe he must’ve been one of those models he saw in storefront windows, the ones with the too perfect pictures. His skin was pale against the dark sweatshirt, and Yata had to wonder if he was a complete dumbass, letting himself be completely soaked by the rain.

There was silence as the group stared at him, the few feet of distance making it seem more like a standoff than anything else. The stranger didn’t budge, not even as the rain began to fall harder.

Weirdo.

“U-uh, what?” Chitose had spoken up finally, taken aback by the other boy’s presence, probably hoping that they wouldn’t be ratted out. The dumb design behind him stuck out like a sore thumb, colors new and bright with the paint still wet. They were clearly the perpetrators too, hands stained with paint and the empty cans haphazardly tucked into their duffel, some sticking out messily. Their shoes were discolored from the bright shades as well, so it would take an idiot not to connect the dots.

Damnit Chitose.

A tongue click.

It was simple, but the annoying response was clear as day, even through the heavy rain fall.

“I was just saying, the underpass is faster than walking on the bridge itself. Less people that way,” the young man continued, rubbing at the back of his head. Yata blinked, lips twitching in a smile he couldn’t exactly explain. The guy was awkward, and he talked as if he was seriously struggling to offer advice.

But, the underpass…

Huh. They’d never tried the underpass before, mostly because of old, childhood tales which scared them away from the dank, shrouded place. Still, they were grown up and in a group now, and they could really benefit from a shortcut.

“Hey thanks! Guys—” Bandou was interrupted by a pull to his collar, a gesture that instinctively caused them to all huddle up in a circle. “Huh? What—”

“Idiot,” Eric muttered. “We don’t even know this guy.”

“So what? He’s just giving us directions,” Bandou pouted, on edge and ready to take off in whatever direction he was told. “The longer we’re here the more likely someone’s gonna find us!”

“Yeah but we’ve never been that way before,” Yata supplied, a bit more nicely than Eric. “The end of the pass could be a total cop zone for all we know!”

“Not to mention this guy could be a total sell out,” Chitose added. “I mean, we didn’t even know he was there. He probably saw everything!”

“Well I don’t know, he doesn’t exactly look stuck up. He definitely doesn’t look dangerous…” Yata whispered. In fact, he’d say the guy could stand to gain some weight…

“Shit, I look like I eat more than him,” Eric murmured.

“You eat more than a lot of people.”

“If I may interject,” an annoyed voice cut though the group’s chattering, causing another wave of panic to go through them all. Honestly, given their reactions, they looked like total spazzes. They all jumped back, the loud sounds of traffic also not helping the atmosphere as loud truck horns blared in the background. “Most of the homeless hang out under the new bridge over in downtown now. There’s no more reason for the cops to patrol the underpass anymore.”

It was a roundabout way of telling them that there was nothing to worry about. It was safe. Why not just say that in the first place?

Hm…

They all shared a glance then, and the young man raised an eyebrow, burying his hands deeper into his pockets. Something was still off about him…and though he was always taught to be grateful, Yata wanted to know what was up before trusting the guy. Plus, he was curious. The guy hadn’t stopped staring at Yata since he’d arrived, and Yata wondered if he’d met the guy somewhere before.

Yata was the first to approach him, naturally, his face scrunched up in mild skepticism. “Why are you tellin’ us this stuff?”

A shrug was the response he got, well, that and what he swore was a light flush on the taller’s face. Come to think of it, the guy definitely wasn’t bad looking in the slightest, just a bit mopey. Like a pet lost out in the rain.

Yata fought the urge to shake his head. Not the time.

“You looked like a group of idiots with nowhere to go. The faster you’re out of here, the quieter it’ll be,” the boy said. Akagi squawked somewhere behind him, and Yata nearly did the same.

The hell?

Yata scoffed, glaring now. Well, talk about a complete turnaround. Who was this asshole? “Whatever! What kind of answer is that? What kind of creep hangs out under a bridge anyways?”

“What kind of delinquent spray paints it?” The response was quick, so sharp it almost caused Yata to step back, but like hell did he back down from anyone.

Oh, I am gonna—

“Not to interrupt your weird flirting,” Eric said, looking smug and intrigued in a way Yata wasn’t too fond of. “But you didn’t have to come over here when you saw us.”

Wait…huh? F-flirting?

There was a weird feeling in the air, the kind which usually came when Eric was secretly making fun of him, and Yata saw the taller boy glare at the words.

Yata didn’t even have time to sputter out a response, because it was soon all going downhill.

“Yeah, heh,” Chitose seemed to speak with the same wolfish grin Eric was now sporting. Bad feeling. Very bad. “You sure you didn’t just want to help in general? Or…did you have an angle? I can tell when people are being uh…checked out you know?”

A long, loaded silence. Another tongue click.

What?

“H-huh?” Yata stared at the other boy now, more than a little confused.

“Well,” the taller began hesitantly, almost reluctantly. “You did look like you needed help, but I wasn’t all that excited to offer any.”

Yata laughed at that, because seriously, why all that fuss if he was just trying to help? And why try to deny it after? Maybe the guy was just weird…

He glanced back at his friends, and his tense posture faded. “Yeah, we definitely—”

“I said you…as in I figured you needed help,” the taller cut off, his voice almost a whisper then. His eyes were boring a hole through Yata, the bright blue now a lot clearer. “I don’t know if that constitutes as checking someone out—”

“It does,” was the answer all Yata’s friends gave.

Yata stilled, and he almost didn’t hear the unrepressed laugh from Eric behind him.

Checking out? W-wait…

Yata watched as the stranger looked away, directing an embarrassed scowl at the ground, and it all seemed to click.

Oh.

Yata’s face lit up red instantly, the cold not helping to hide it, and he was about ready to beat up Chitose, who was humming behind him. “I-I-I-I-I’m not—well I’m not like that see.”

“Since when?”

Shut up Bandou.

The other’s eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement at that, and Yata swallowed, suddenly torn between punching the guy and…well he didn’t know.

“I’m really not!”

“Yeah, right,” Eric whispered from the back. Yata spun around, flipping him off before returning to the handsome….no…annoying stranger.

“I-I’m just not…looking for that,” Yata said, but then backpedaled as if his mind was trying to save him. Fuck, fine. The guy did seem kinda cool…ugh! No, he was mysterious, that was all. “As in right now! Like right now, we really have to get back to the east end!”

God Yata wanted to crawl into a hole, his face was on fire. Luckily, the other spared him. Sort of.

“Hm, I see. Either way, you seem a bit slow, so I figured I’d take pity on those who lack common sense,” the boy said, a smug look dancing on his features.

“W-what? Fuck you, just—”

Sirens began ringing in the distance. No doubt about it, they were police sirens, and they were close.

The whole group tensed, and though they knew they probably weren’t being looked for, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be found. It was getting later the longer they stood there, and soon cops would be patrolling their area. The bridge may have already been crawling with them since they’d ran behind schedule. Which meant at that point, they had no real choice but to…

“Ugh fuck this! Either way, we might be screwed,” Chitose yelled, throwing the duffel at Bandou and hightailing it towards the direction of the underpass.

“Thank you for the help,” Fujishima spared a glance at the stranger before turning his attention towards Yata. “Yat—”

“Yata move your ass, you can talk to your boyfriend later,” Eric rushed past, grabbing Fujishima and dragging him forward.

“He’s not—ugh!” Yata ran a hand through his hair before starting to follow his friends, urgency overriding humiliation. He looked back one last time, curiosity getting the better of him once more. The stranger just stood there, unmoving and apathetic as ever, not even phased by all the noise around him, or the sudden retreat. Yet as neutral as he looked, Yata couldn’t help but find him strangely captivating, like he couldn’t help but meet the other’s gaze.

Yata sighed as Chitose called for him again, sparing one last glance. “Hey jerk, what’s your name?”

The other seemed surprised then, his eyes widening a fraction. It was actually a bit satisfying, seeing the new, non-asshole expression.

“What can’t talk now? Spit it out,” Yata called as he started to walk backwards in the direction his friends had gone. Fuck, he was totally going to have to gun it. The other hummed, tipping his head forward acquiescingly after a while, as if he was torn about actually giving up the information.

“Fushimi Saruhiko.”

Fushimi Saruhiko. Got it.

“See you around, Saru!”

It was bold of him, but he probably wouldn’t see the guy again, and the name made him laugh to himself triumphantly.

As sirens continued in the distance, Yata turned, sprinting away until he was but a speck in Saruhiko’s vision.

The sound of Douhan’s door slamming shut barely caused her to jump, and she didn’t even look away from the soup brewing on the stove as a blurry figure dressed in black flew past her periphery, shoulders hunched and steps quick.

“How did it go?” She asked, feeling particularly haughty, and she was answered by the deafening slam of the guest bedroom door.

Ah, so it went well.

“Misaki! You’re early…”

The screen door closed behind him, joining a rumble of thunder, and he did his best to control his rapid breathing so as to not seem tired. He could totally play this off…

Yata’s mother eyed him suspiciously as he trudged into the house, trying to not look like the drowned rat he was. Thank god he’d worn his good coat. He coughed to relieve some of the air in his lungs wanting to be released. He’d run the whole way, and had managed to get back ten minutes early, just before dinner.

It was a miracle, and part of him thanked Saruhiko over and over.

“Have some faith Mom, I’m not late every day,” Yata said as he kicked off his shoes and lined them up next to his siblings’. They were muddy, but the rain had washed off most of the paint colors.

Thank fuck.

“Yes, but you’re late most days.” His mother was now setting the table, eyeing him warily as she set out the appropriate utensils.

“It’s not my fault the bridge usually takes so long to cross…it’s a lot quicker than the long way though,” Yata said, hoping his mother wouldn’t try to question why he was even on the other side of town in the first place.

No such luck.

“You shouldn’t even be over there, what exactly have you been doing?” His mother paused, hand on her hip as she glared at him accusingly. The bowls in her hand clattered as they were placed down roughly onto the wooden surface, and he cringed.

“Nothing! There’s cool shops over there is all, but anyways, need help?” Yata moved closer to the table, desperately hoping to take his mother’s mind away from the topic of his afternoon whereabouts. After all, he could only lie to his mother so well…

She just ignored him, going back to the sink and furiously ringing out a washcloth, worry lacing her tone. “I don’t like the thought of you on that bridge, do you know how many accidents happen on there?”

Ah man…

Yata sighed. His mom stressed too much. He was careful! Plus he was pretty quick and healthy, he could get himself out of trouble, and he stayed away from the road.

He looked at the floor guiltily. It was nice, knowing she cared, but part of him did hate worrying her. It was part of the reason he didn’t like telling her when he went on one of his adventures.

“Don’t worry, we took the underpass today anyways,” Yata replied, tone softer as he laid out the rest of the place settings gently before sitting at the table.

Thinking back, they really had lucked out because of Saruhiko. He was kind of strange, and who knew how long he’d been standing there, or where he’d even come from, but he’d done them a real solid.

Even if he was kind of a dick.

Yata blushed, remembering the smirk on the other’s face as he had admitted his reasons for helping. He shook his head, trying to not let it get to him again. Surely he’d just been joking, trying to rile Yata up, and his friends had honestly only made assumptions. Regardless, the shorter knew he’d be hearing shit from his friends about it for weeks.

It didn’t help that the guy had been good looking either.

It also didn’t help that he had no idea why the guy’s looks even mattered to his messed up head.

Fuck.

He was vaguely aware of his mother’s voice being directed at him, so he figured it was best to return to reality before he got thoroughly scolded.

“—and there was an especially bad one today, a pileup I hear!” His mother was scrubbing at a pot angrily, stopping only to point a menacing finger at her son. “If I hear you’re on that bridge you’ll be in big trouble, you got it?”

He mumbled an affirmative, feeling like a kid again, then slunk further into his seat. His friends were probably going to have a field day with that too…

“Now, could you get your brother and sister? Dinner’s done,” his mom said with a loving smile, opening a pot on the stove and allowing a truly tantalizing aroma to waft through the house.

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

The mall was crowded on weekends, what with school being out and new paychecks to spend. Yata and Chitose had taken the liberty of crashing Eric’s date with Fujishima, inciting his wrath effectively.

“You losers really couldn’t entertain yourselves could you?” Eric grumbled the question as they walked out of the movie theater—the one they had just been kicked out of due to being too ‘rowdy.’ It had been mostly Chitose’s fault in Yata’s opinion. The redhead hadn’t wanted to intrude on the movie date, but Chitose was bored, and had thought it would be funny.

Ha fucking ha.

Now they couldn’t go to the movies for two damn weeks.

Oh well, Yata reasoned. Summer was finally upon them, so it wasn’t as if he’d want to spend much time indoors anyhow. This was his favorite time of the year!

So, he definitely regretted going with Chitose to the mall. Not only because he felt bad about crashing a date, but…

In all honesty, being around Eric and Fujishima sometimes made Yata uncomfortable. Not that he had anything against the relationship, not at all. It was just the fact there was a definite air of…trust and affection…what must’ve been love, and it surrounded the two. It made Yata feel all kinds of strange, but he could never put a finger on why. Maybe he was envious? No, that didn’t seem right either. More like wonder, like an annoying curiosity and need to understand the reasons behind those private looks shared between the couple. He wondered if he’d ever find someone who he cared about so much. He didn’t like to think about it a lot, because really it was so lame. More than anything he was happy for his friends.

“Relax, we’ll leave you alone after lunch,” Chitose argued, sitting down with the group at a food court table. Somehow, they’d actually managed to find a seat.

“Uh huh,” Fujishima replied, smiling fondly as he patted Eric’s back in apology.

“If I buy you food, will you forgive me?” Chitose pleaded with Eric mockingly, and the other just flipped him off, sticking out his tongue for good measure. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Chitose got up and headed towards some unhealthy fast food stand, leaving Yata alone with the couple.

Well, maybe part of it was envy. For whatever reason, his mind unhelpfully conjured up an image of Saruhiko, and Yata immediately forced it away. Shit, what the hell?

“So Yata, still thinking about the dreamy guy from the other week?” Eric’s voice was packed with teasing notes, and he swore he even heard Fujishima hold back a snort. Traitor.

What kind of question was that anyways?

“What the fuck? Why would I be thinkin’ of that jerk? He did us a solid yeah, but he didn’t say anything else important,” Yata scoffed, scanning the food court to avoid making eye contact.

Truth was, he’d been thinking of Saruhiko a lot for some reason. It was like the encounter with the other was permanently sketched into Yata’s brain, and he couldn’t get rid of it.

“Not to make assumptions,” Fujishima began. “But you usually only avoid eye contact when you’re lying.”

Yata choked on spit.

Double traitor.

“I do not! I ju—”

“Poor bastard, doesn’t even know how bad he’s got it,” Eric sighed wistfully.

“Fuck off,” Yata muttered as he continued to look over the vast crowd of people milling about with their screaming kids and oversized shopping bags. The mall wasn’t always his favorite place to hang out, since he could potentially run into people from school he didn’t like, but with his friends it was pretty fun. Well, when they weren’t cornering him about hot strangers. Shit. No, bad. Yata continued to look around in frustration, hoping the distractions would drown out his thoughts. “I barely know the gu—oh fuck!”

Of course, the universe hated him. “There he is!”

If anyone asked, Yata wouldn’t be able to tell them why in that moment he dove under the table. Not one excuse popped up in his mind. Damn.

The same tall, tired young man from a few days prior stood leaning against the wall at the edge of the food court, people watching. He wasn’t soaked with water like he had been that day, and instead had nicely styled hair and clean glasses. Fuck.

Even worse.

Eric and Fujishima both turned to see what the issue was, but Yata cussed at them, urging them to stop. “Don’t fucking look over! He’ll see you!”

“Are you a middle schooler?” Eric asked after a confused pause, like he couldn’t actually fathom the situation which was Yata hiding under a table from some dude. “Just go over there an—”

“I don’t want to talk to that asshole! He looks at me weird…” Yata squinted, peeking out over the top of the table to watch the uninterested figure across the room.

“Yeah, because he’s gay as fuck for you,” Eric supplied, looking over to the counter where Chitose was ordering food, impatient as ever. As if Yata wasn’t having a crisis beside him.

“W-w-what?! Don’t say shit like that,” Yata yelled in a hush, never taking his eyes off of Saruhiko. “He was joking last time…”

“Pft, was not. I’m just letting you know that you shouldn’t be so damn stupid about it, he obviously likes you,” Eric said with an irritated sigh. “Who knows why…”

Yata only groaned, not in the mood whatsoever to deal with his friend’s bullshit. In any other situation, he would’ve been ready for a full on verbal standoff, but all his mind could focus on was Saruhiko and his lazy posture and blue eyes…

Great, he sounded like a loser. Since when did he hide from people? What was he supposed to do now? If he could just make a break for the escalator…

Then he felt a light hand touch his shoulder from across the table, and he looked over to be met with Fujishima’s kind gaze.

“Say thank you at least, he really helped us out the other day.”

Images of the rainy day under the bridge flashed in his mind, along with Saruhiko’s light flush and helpful words. He’d helped them, regardless of them being complete strangers…

Thanking him was probably the best thing to do, since without him, they could’ve been in deep trouble.

Yeah…

Like witchcraft, Yata began to consider it. He blinked a few times, cogs in his mind turning as Eric shared one of those secret couple looks with Fujishima that Yata couldn’t stand.

He had a point though…He’d never personally given a proper thank you…he was raised better damn it! Yeah…that’s all he’d say, just a quick thanks. Yeah. Full proof.

If he could get past looking at the other’s face at least…

Wait…no! His brain really did seem to hate him, but he somehow managed to work up the courage to finally stand. If this was what having a crush meant, no matter how small, he was not a fan.

The worse thing was he actually wanted to talk to Saruhiko deep down. Part of him was grateful Fujishima had given him the excuse, though Eric still didn’t seem impressed.

Yata straightened himself up, brushing his clothes off and setting his jaw like he’d never even dove to the floor in the first place. He waved over stupidly in the direction of Saruhiko until those piercing blue eyes picked up the movement and locked on him. Yata shuddered involuntarily. There was that sensation again…

The taller’s eyes widened a fraction, and he looked around, unsure if he was in fact the one being waved to. Unbelievable.

“Saru! Over here!” Yata’s yelling caused a few heads to turn, but not enough for him to be properly sheepish about it.

The taller didn’t seem to appreciate the attention on him as a few people looked, and from a distance Yata could see him click his tongue. Loser.

Yata didn’t realize he’d started smiling.

Saruhiko fumbled a bit before beginning to walk over, and Yata briefly noted his proximity to his friends, and had enough sense to move a few feet away from the table so Eric couldn’t butt in.

“You’re so short, I almost couldn’t see you over all the people,” Saruhiko said upon reaching Yata. The redhead registered the comment, resisting the urge to fight back, before glaring in annoyance.

“I’m not that short! Don’t think you’re better than me!” So much for resisting.

“Mm, and where do you get off exactly, calling me by my first name so casually?” Saruhiko’s tone was playful, like Yata was some amusing test subject. Or at least, more interesting than the other people bustling about the shopping center.

“Well, um—it’s a nice name?”

Shit.

“Yeah, he could say it all day! Or night I mean…” Eric called from the table, completely aware he was being a total dick. The usual. Yata whipped around to glare, noticing as Fujishima tried to quiet Eric down half-heartedly. Thanks.

“Ugh it doesn’t matter! That’s your name!” Yata crossed his arms with a sigh, thinking maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. He was getting flustered and he didn’t know why.

“And yours?”

Huh?

“W-what?” Yata eyed the other warily, brain struggling to process the turn of the conversation as it entered dangerous territory.

“What’s your name? And don’t just say Yata, because I gathered as much,” Saruhiko said smugly.

“It’s none of your fucking business, that’s—”

“Yata Misaki. You’re welcome.”

Yata was going to kill Eric. Soon. The plan was already forming in his mind, no one would ever know as long as the blood stains came out of his clothes and off his baseball bat.

He was aware of Chitose obnoxiously returning to the table with piles of food, trying his best to whisper but failing. “Hey, is that Yata’s boyfriend from the other week?”

He hated his friends.

“What are you doing here anyways? All you were doing was staring at people like a creep! Are you following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Misaki. This is the mall you know.”

Well yeah, that was true. Misaki gaped, having no real response. It was the most popular mall in town, given that it had the most stores and food places. Still, why the reserved, yet unfairly good looking, stranger from a week or so earlier was there still wasn’t clear to Yata.

And now he fucking knew his name. Perfect.

Then another thought lodged itself into Yata’s brain, begging to be voiced despite Yata’s confusion.

He’d never exactly seen Saruhiko around before.

“Hey, where did you go to school? I’ve never seen you…ever,” Yata said as the other now leaned against an empty chair from a nearby table, old jeans stretching as he stood dressed in the same jacket from before.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, looking away, but something about the expression was more troubled this time. “My parents…didn’t really care if I went to school.”

The pout on Saruhiko’s face…wasn’t unappealing, and the fact made Yata swallow. He was totally aware of his friends sitting at the café table a few feet away, whispering and watching like a couple of vultures.

Even then, he felt the conversation was heading down a bad road, so he did his best to lighten it.

“O-oh. That’s lucky though! Still, I’ve never seen you—”

“Does that disappoint you?” Saruhiko had an amused smile on his face again, and he stepped closer. Yata’s face flushed, and he willed himself to believe it was just because of the attention, not the fact there was any kind of attraction for the guy (but that was looking less and less likely).

“N-no! You’re just weird! And you stick out…”

“Actually you blend in pretty well!” Chitose’s voice carried over from the table. “I hear only Yata noticed you when you were standing over there!”

Fuck you.

“Whatever! Don’t listen to them,” Yata huffed, casting his gaze to the floor. “Ugh, just…thanks for the tip the other day! About the underpass I mean.”

Saruhiko shrugged, small smirk still gracing his delicately structured face. “I don’t like the busy areas of the city. I know a lot of short cuts.”

Whoa…so cool…

He stared back up at the taller boy, eyes slightly wide and a grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. He faintly heard Eric hum mockingly in the background, but he for once, couldn’t find the will to care. Things weren’t going to get more humiliating after all.

He wondered, somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, what it must be like to feel drawn to someone. To want to be friends or…whatever, with someone so bad. Did it make your stomach feel this weird?

He shook it off, trying to not shame himself any more than he had already. He was probably overthinking things, he’d never been attracted to someone right out the gate like this. However, it almost felt like a challenge, a feeling he wanted to explore. And where was the harm?

He didn’t know what was happening, or what had come over him, but he was never one to not act on instinct. It was both an insult and a compliment he got a lot. Impulsivity was his strength and weakness. Regardless, he figured it was safe to trust his gut this time, and the words came out before he could even fully process them.

“Can you show me?”

Eyebrows were raised in return, followed by a barely there smile which spoke much louder than words.

#sarumi #sarumi fest 2017 #adri writing

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limedane21 · 7 years

Text

The Golden Cave (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Prompt: same plot as most angst newt fics (except angstier)

Word Count: 2395

A/N: Yeah Yeah, I know. The Bones part 3 fic should be out. Well, now I can work on it without this fic being in the way. XP

“Hey Y/N?” Newt called.

“Yes?” I called back, trying to find him from where I stood.

“Can you feed the mooncalves?” he asked, “The Goldsteins have invited us to dinner so I was hoping you will be okay with me starting on my way. With you in the case.”

“Good idea,” I replied, picking up the buckets with the mooncalves’ food.

He disappeared into the shed as I walked over to the mooncalves’ enclosure. It has been eight months since I started working with Mr. Scamander. I wouldn't trade it for the world. His creatures were fantastic and amazing and so very lovely. Though my favorite creature was the magizoologist himself. His goofy smile was enough to cure any grumpy mood I may be in. I fancied him. I fancied him a lot, but those feelings were kept inside a cage in my heart. I didn't need to ruin this friendship with selfish desires.

Sighing, I petted a stray mooncalf who was rubbing up against me. I wanted to tell him. Desperately, but I am strong. If he wants to go further in our relationship he would say. But that didn't stop the slight aching in my heart.

"We're here!" Newt called.

"Finally!" I exclaimed, hopping off the rock I was sitting on.

I was up the ladder in record time. I turned to close the case when I heard Newt's laughter. I grinned, happy Newt was enjoying himself. I walked into the kitchen where Queenie greeted me excitedly.

"Oh Y/N! I'm absolutely joyed to see you again," She cheered, dragging me to a chair next to her and Newt.

The dinner was amazing as always and there were plenty of stories to go around from Newt and I's adventures across the globe to Tina and Queenie's work-related tales. The table was soon empty and everyone slowly went silent, tiredness taking over. I excused myself from dinner and walked into the spare bedroom Newt and I were staying in. I was jotting down some notes when Tina opened the door and came in, sitting down on Newt's bed.

"Y/N?" she asked, holding her hands on her lap.

"Yes?" I answered, looking up at her flustered face.

"I," pause, "I was wondering if Newt and you were," another pause, "Dating?" she asked.

Now it was my turn to pause, "Uh. No."

She smiled, "Is it okay if I," pause, "Ask him out?"

My heart suddenly shattered into a million pieces. It took all my strength to keep the waterfall of tears to come pouring. I smile weakly at her.

"Sure," I replied, just keeping in a sob.

We sat together in silence before Tina got up and walked out the door. I soon followed only turning to the door instead of the kitchen, grabbing my coat and donning it.

"Where are you going?" Newt asked.

"For a walk," I replied, opening the door and walking out.

I scrolled the lonely roads of New York, heading towards the frozen Central Park. Snow softly fell, making me feel as numb as I feel on the inside. Silent tears flowed down my cheeks, making them more frozen than normal. I laid my cold body on a bench, casting a spell so I wouldn't die from the cold. I whimpered as more tears fell and the sobbing became worst. I soon cried myself to a restless sleep full of horrid dreams of lost.

~~~

I stood outside the Goldstein's apartment, hoping Queenie could sense me and let me in when Newt and Tina weren't there.

The door cracked open, "It's okay sweetie, you can come in now."

"Thanks," I said, walking in; my head down.

"Y/N," Queenie exclaimed, cupping my cheeks in her hands, "You're so cold. What happened?"

"Just a bit of emotional cleansing," I replied, weakly.

"Liar," Queenie stated, leading me to the couch.

"I'm fine," I said, taking a seat, "I feel better already."

She frowned, giving me a sad look and waving her wand. Two cups of tea floated over to us. I took my cup and started drinking it, watching the fire. Thirty minutes passed when I finished my cup. I got up and walked to the spare bedroom. I started at Newt's case before abruptly grabbing my backpack. Just as I brought my wand out, Queenie burst through the door.

"Y/N! No!" she cried out, trying to grab me.

But it was too late. I already disapperated.

~~~

It has been six months. Six months since I left my friends. Since I left Newt. I was in Italy. Brought here by rumors of a rare wizarding artifact. Ever since I left I enchanted my backpack to be like Newt's case. It wasn't exactly like his for his is made for creatures. Mine for rare and unique objects. Anything valuable and shiny basically. It wasn't as big as Newt's either. Instead, mine was a small cave with a pool of crystal clear water. The walls were carved with natural shelves for my artifacts. Most of the floor was stone. Using sea glass to replace sand for the entrance and bottom of the pool.

This collecting is the only thing keeping me same. Well. That is what I tell myself.

Y/N . . . Come back . . .

"Shut up," I muttered, making a few passerby look at me odd.

Not that I cared. I stopped smiling long ago. I stopped feeling too. My world has slowly turned to gray. Like the walls of my cave. This might be the real reason I collect those objects. Because they're shiny. I had basically turned into a depressed Niffler. Chuckling at the thought absentmindedly, I looked up at the overcast sky.

"It's going to rain," I stated dully to no one.

Just like that, a raindrop fell on my cheek. Several more followed while I adjusted my fedora and coat. I whispered a password to a hobo, who pushed a button as I walked into a bar.

You shouldn't be here . . .

I ignored his words. There just my imagination. Sitting down in the back, I ordered some Italian butter-beer.

You're not safe here . . .

"Shut up," I muttered again as someone came to my side.

I looked over to see the waiter.

"Sorry, I was talking to myself," I mumbled, handing him some money and taking the drink.

"[Insert Italian gibberish]" Someone said, sitting across from me.

"English?" I asked, looking up at the man.

"Oh, yes. Should have known. I was just saying how you seemed different," He corrected.

"I'm here on business," I stated.

"You look like you're here to grieve," He said, then hastily added, "Just saying."

I smiled weakly, looking at my drink," That too I guess."

"So what brings you here on business?" He asked.

"I heard that someone was looking to sell a rare artifact."

"Oh I know just who you're looking for," he said excitedly.

"Who?"

"Me," He raised his hand to his chest.

"What are you looking to sell it for?" I asked as he brought out the shiny artifact.

"Have some magical beast on you?" he joked.

In any other setting, it would be funny but this just struck a chord with me.

"If you want a magical creature you should be asking for Newt Scamander," I spat, getting up and walking out into the pouring rain.

~~~

After finding a deserted alley, I went into my backpack putting an invisibility charm on it so no one could look in or steal it. I kicked off my shoes and fell into my hammock, fresh tears falling from my cheeks.

Don't cry . . .

"GO AWAY!" I yelled, pulling my hair in frustration.

I'm here . . .

"NO! I LEFT YOU! YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY WITH TINA! NOW BE WITH HER!" I screeched.

There were footsteps coming down my ladder. My tears froze at the sight of who it was. It was Queenie, a travel-worn Queenie.

"Oh Y/N," she said, sorrowfully, "You look awful."

I turned my back to her, "How did you find me?"

"There were rumors about a collector with some association with Newt Scamander."

"Don't you dare say his name," I warned.

There was a pause, "You hear his voice."

"I'm just going crazy, nothing I can't handle."

"Honey, you can't even handle the sight of me."

"I'm fine," I whimpered, wiping the tears away.

"Now that is just a lie and you know it. Newt misses you."

"He'll be fine. He has Tina."

"He is most definitely not fine Y/N."

"Have you told him why I left?"

"No."

"Why not?" I accosted, "Don't you think he would want a reason?"

"I do, but you should be the one to tell him."

"If you think I'll just come with you back to his arms, you're wrong."

"I don't need you to come with me," she smiled, mischievously, "Tina and I are just going to carry you there."

"Wait! Why is Tina with you?" I yelled after her.

But it was too late. I was stuck.

Heading towards the last place I wanted to go.

To Newt.

~~~

The days passed slowly. Painfully slow. Between the voice-in-my-head fits and the restless sleep, I was okay even though it felt like the longer we took the more panic filled me to the point that I was pacing with Queenie finally come down the ladder.

"We're here," she cheered but her attitude soon changed when she noticed my state.

She walked over to me and hugged me, "Come up when you're ready," she whispered.

"Okay," I said weakly, barely able to speak knowing Newt was somewhere above me.

~~~

I haven't moved. It has been hours. The nerves were slowly getting to me. I looked at the pool. Hesitantly I breathed out and walked to the edge, taking off my socks and over-shirt. Still, with my tank-top and pants on, I waded into the shallow water; The water only going to my waist. I dropped down, submerging my head below before bringing it back up. I silently watched the ladder, hoping and despairing. There were sudden yelling and loud crashes before footsteps came down the ladder. I ducked my head into the water with my nose just high enough to breathe.

There he was. Blue coat and all. Standing there in my cave, looking around the room before finding me. His face softened turning to sadness at the sight of me as he stared into my eyes. Still not having said a word, he walked over to the water where he started taking off his shoes, socks, coat, jacket, and vest. He then walked into the water, never letting his watering eyes off me as I raised to full height.

"Why are you crying?" he asked softly, slowing closing the space between us.

"It's just water," I lied, walking backward to keep the distance.

He noticed and frowned a little, disappointed.

"Y/N . . ." He said, but it sounded like he also said it in my head.

I closed my eyes and placed my hands over my ears; a pained expression covering my face. Warm arms wrapped around me, one hand holding my head against his chest. I immediately go limp at his touch. He slowly pulled me to a shallower part of the pool. Sitting down in the water, he cooed softly to me as I sobbed into his warm chest.

"Why did you leave?" he finally asked.

I paused my crying to look at him. He eyes bore into mine so I looked back down, unable to hold his glance.

"I knew I couldn't keep up my facade if you and Tina started dating," I whispered, shaking in fear.

"What facade?" he questioned, pulling me closer to him.

"Th-that I love you more than a friend."

The silence that followed those words became deadly. I didn't dare look up. I know deep down I wasn't strong. If I was, I would be able to look up at him like an equal or even would have told him earlier. I also wouldn't have run away like the coward I am.

I turned to pull out of his arms only to have him just tighten his hold on me.

"Newt," I pleaded.

"Do you mean it?" he asked, "That you love me?"

"Yes," I answered weakly.

He then cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. I was frozen in shock. Still even after he ended the kiss. My face turning into a bright shade of pink, I sank down into his lap, staring at my shaking hands. He wiped away the last few remaining tears and held my hands. Still not looking up, he kissed me on the forehead then nose before resting his head on my shoulder. I bit my lip, trying to understand what was happening.

"Newt?" I asked.

Couple minutes passed.

"Newt?"

The only reply I received was a soft snore from the magizoologist. I gently pushed him off me so I could see his face. Smiling slightly, I dragged him to the water's edge. Being too weak to get him out of the water, I rested his head on my lap, brushing his bangs back. After a while I got the nerve to put my hand on his cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, making me pull back my hand in shock.

He smiled and grabbed my hand, opening his eyes and returning my hand to his cheek. I faltered, not knowing what to do so I just stared into his hazel eyes. Getting brave, Newt turned and crashed his lips against mine. I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Crash!

We separated, searching for the cause. Scanning the walls, we saw a black shadow scurry away. Newt immediately gave chase. He ran to the wall and began grabbing at it. After knocking down some of my collectibles, he finally got a hold of the intruder.

"You bugger!" he exclaimed, bring the creature to his face.

It was the Niffler. I giggled as Newt began to shake it by its back paws, some of my artifacts falling from his pouch.

Newt then turned to me, smiling, "Shall we bring him back to my case?"

"Definitely," I answered, smiling.

#Newt Scamander x reader #Newt Scamander #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #fbawtft x reader #x reader #fantic #harry potter fanfic #newt #scamander #newt x reader #scamander x reader

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readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

THE GREAT MEETING ON STABLE HILL

Fop, a long time they could not speak nor even shed a tear. Then the Unicorn stamped the ground with his hoof, and shook his mane, and spoke. "Sire," he said, "there is now no need of counsel. We see that the Ape's plans were laid deeper than we dreamed of. Doubtless he has been long in secret traffic with The Tisroc, and as soon as he had found the lion-skin he sent him word to make ready his navy for the taking of Cair Paravel and all Narnia. Nothing now remains for us seven but to go back to Stable Hill, proclaim the truth, and take the adventure that Aslan sends us. And if, by a great marvel, we defeat those thirty Calormenes who are with the Ape, then to turn again and die in battle with the far greater host of them that will soon march from Cair Paravel." Tirian nodded. But he turned to the children and said: "Now, friends, it is time for you to go hence into your own world. Doubtless you have done all that you were sent to do." "B - but we've done nothing," said Jill who was shivering, not with fear exactly but because everything was so horrible. "Nay," said the King, "you loosed me from the tree: you glided before me like a snake last night in the wood and took Puzzle: and you, Eustace, killed your man. But you are too young to share in such a bloody end as we others must meet tonight or, it may be, three days hence. I entreat you - nay, I command you - to return to your own place. I should be put to shame if I let such young warriors fall in battle on my side." "No, no, no," said Jill (very white when she began speaking and then suddenly very red and then white again.) "We won't, I don't care what you say. We're going to stick to you whatever happens, aren't we, Eustace?" "Yes, but there's no need to get so worked up about it," said Eustace who had stuck his hands in his pockets (forgetting how very odd that looks when you are wearing a mail shirt). "Because, you see, we haven't any choice. What's the good of talking about our going back! How? We've got no magic for doing it!" This was very good sense but, at the moment, Jill hated Eustace for saying it. He was fond of being dreadfully matter-of-fact when other people got excited. When Tirian realized that the two strangers could not get home (unless Aslan suddenly whisked them away), he next wanted them to go across the Southern mountains into Archenland where they might possibly be safe. But they didn't know their way and there was no one to send with them. Also, as Poggin said, once the Calormenes had Narnia they would certainly take Archenland in the next week or so: The Tisroc had always wanted to have these Northern countries for his own. In the end Eustace and Jill begged so hard that Tirian said they could come with him and take their chance - or, as he much more sensibly called it, "the adventure that Aslan would send them". The King's first idea was that they should not go back to Stable Hill - they were sick of the very name of it by now till after dark. But the Dwarf told them that if they arrived there by daylight they would probably find the place deserted, except perhaps for a Calormene sentry. The Beasts were far too frightened by what the Ape (and Ginger) had told them about this new angry Aslan - or Tashlan - to go near it except when they were called together for these horrible midnight meetings. And Calormenes are never good woodsmen. Poggin thought that even by daylight they could easily get round to somewhere behind the stable without being seen. This would be much harder to do when the night had come and the Ape might be calling the Beasts together and all the Calormenes were on duty. And when the meeting did begin they could leave Puzzle at the back of the stable, completely out of sight, till the moment at which they wanted to produce him. This was obviously a good thing: for their only chance was to give the Narnians a sudden surprise. Everyone agreed and the whole party set off on a new line - North-West - towards the hated Hill. The Eagle sometimes flew to and fro above them, sometimes he sat perched on Puzzle's back. No one - not even the King himself except in some great need - would dream of riding on a Unicorn. This time Jill and Eustace walked together. They had been feeling very brave when they were begging to be allowed to come with the others, but now they didn't feel brave at all. "Pole," said Eustace in a whisper. "I may as well tell you I've got the wind up." "Oh you're all right, Scrubb," said Jill. "You can fight. But I - I'm just shaking, if you want to know the truth." "Oh shaking's nothing," said Eustace. "I'm feeling I'm going to be sick." "Don't talk about that, for goodness' sake," said Jill. They went on in silence for a minute or two. "Pole," said Eustace presently. "What?" said she. "What'll happen if we get killed here?" "Well we'll be dead, I suppose." "But I mean, what will happen in our own world? Shall we wake up and find ourselves back in that train? Or shall we just vanish and never be heard of any more? Or shall we be dead in England?" "Gosh. I never thought of that." "It'll be rum for Peter and the others if they saw me waving out of the window and then when the train comes in we're nowhere to be found! Or if they found two - I mean, if we're dead over there in England." "Ugh!" said Jill. "What a horrid idea." "It wouldn't be horrid for us," said Eustace. "We shouldn't be there." "I almost wish - no I don't, though," said Jill. "What were you going to say?" "I was going to say I wished we'd never come. But I don't, I don't, I don't. Even if we are killed. I'd rather be killed fighting for Narnia than grow old and stupid at home and perhaps go about in a bath-chair and then die in the end just the same." "Or be smashed up by British Railways!" "Why d'you say that?" "Well when that awful jerk came - the one that seemed to throw us into Narnia - I thought it was the beginning of a railway accident. So I was jolly glad to find ourselves here instead." While Jill and Eustace were talking about this, the others were discussing their plans and becoming less miserable. That was because they were now thinking of what was to be done this very night and the thought of what had happened to Narnia - the thought that all her glories and joys were over - was pushed away into the back part of their minds. The moment they stopped talking it would come out and make them wretched again: but they kept on talking. Poggin was really quite cheerful about the night's work they had to do. He was sure that the Boar and the Bear, and probably all the Dogs would come over to their side at once. And he couldn't believe that all the other Dwarfs would stick to Griffle. And fighting by firelight and in and out among trees would be an advantage to the weaker side. And then, if they could win tonight, need they really throw their lives away by meeting the main Calormene army a few days later? Why not hide in the woods, or even up in the Western Waste beyond the great waterfall and live like outlaws? And then they might gradually get stronger and stronger, for Talking Beasts and Archenlanders would be joining them every day. And at last they'd come out of hiding and sweep the Calormenes (who would have got careless by then) out of the country and Narnia would be revived. After all, something very like that had happened in the time of King Miraz! And Tirian heard all this and thought "But what about Tash?" and felt in his bones that none of it was going to happen. But he didn't say so. When they got nearer to Stable Hill of course everyone became quiet. Then the real wood-work began. From the moment at which they first saw the Hill to the moment at which they all arrived at the back of the stable, it took them over two hours. It's the sort of thing one couldn't describe properly unless one wrote pages and pages about it. The journey from each bit of cover to the next was a separate adventure, and there were very long waits in between, and several false alarms. If you are a good Scout or a good Guide you will know already what it must have been like. By about sunset they were all safe in a clump of holly trees about fifteen yards behind the stable. They all munched some biscuit and lay down. Then came the worst part, the waiting. Luckily for the children they slept for a couple of hours, but of course they woke up when the night grew cold, and what was worse, woke up very thirsty and with no chance of getting a drink. Puzzle just stood, shivering a little with nervousness, and said nothing. But Tirian, with his head against Jewel's flank, slept as soundly as if he were in his royal bed at Cair Paravel, till the sound of a gong beating awoke him and he sat up and saw that there was firelight on the far side of the stable and knew that the hour had come. "Kiss me, Jewel," he said. "For certainly this is our last night on earth. And if ever I offended against you in any matter great or small, forgive me now." "Dear King," said the Unicorn, "I could almost wish you had, so that I might forgive it. Farewell. We have known great joys together. If Aslan gave me my choice I would choose no other life than the life I have had and no other death than the one we go to." Then they woke up Farsight, who was asleep with his head under his wing (it made him look as if he had no head at all), and crept forward to the stable. They left Puzzle (not without a kind word, for no one was angry with him now) just behind it, telling him not to move till someone came to fetch him, and took up their position at one end of the stable. The bonfire had not been lit for long and was just beginning to blaze up. It was only a few feet away from them, and the great crowd of Narnian creatures were on the other side of it, so that Tirian could not at first see them very well, though of course he saw dozens of eyes shining with the reflection of the fire, as you've seen a rabbit's or cat's eyes in the headlights of a car. And just as Tirian took his place, the gong stopped beating and from somewhere on his left three figures appeared. One was Rishda Tarkaan the Calormene Captain. The second was the Ape. He was holding on to the Tarkaan's hand with one paw and kept whimpering and muttering, "Not so fast, don't go so fast, I'm not at all well. Oh my poor head! These midnight meetings are getting too much for me. Apes aren't meant to be up at night: It's not as if I was a rat or a bat - oh my poor head." On the other side of the Ape, walking very soft and stately, with his tail straight up in the air, came Ginger the Cat. They were heading for the bonfire and were so close to Tirian that they would have seen him at once if they had looked in the right direction. Fortunately they did not. But Tirian heard Rishda say to Ginger in a low voice: "Now, Cat, to thy post. See thou play thy part well." "Miaow, miaow. Count on me!" said Ginger. Then he stepped away beyond the bonfire and sat down in the front row of the assembled Beasts: in the audience, as you might say. For really, as it happened, the whole thing was rather like a theatre. The crowd of Narnians were like the people in the seats; the little grassy place just in front of the stable, where the bonfire burned and the Ape and the Captain stood to talk to the crowd, was like the stage; the stable itself was like the scenery at the back of the stage; and Tirian and his friends were like people peering round from behind the scenery. It was a splendid position. If any of them stepped forward into the full firelight, all eyes would be fixed on him at once: on the other hand, so long as they stood still in the shadow of the end-wall of the stable, it was a hundred to one against their being noticed. Rishda Tarkaan dragged the Ape up close to the fire. The pair of them turned to face the crowd, and this of course meant that their backs were towards Tirian and his friends. "Now, Monkey," said Rishda Tarkaan in a low voice. "Say the words that wiser heads have put into thy mouth. And hold up thy head." As he spoke he gave the Ape a little prod or kick from behind with the point of his toe. "Do leave me alone," muttered Shift. But he sat up straighter and began, in a louder voice - "Now listen, all of you. A terrible thing has happened. A wicked thing. The wickedest thing that ever was done in Narnia. And Aslan - " "Tashlan, fool," whispered Rishda Tarkaan. "Tashlan I mean, of course," said the Ape, "is very angry about it." There was a terrible silence while the Beasts waited to hear what new trouble was in store for them. The little party by the end-wall of the stable also held their breath. What on earth was coming now? "Yes," said the Ape. "At this very moment, when the Terrible One himself is among us - there in the stable just behind me - one wicked Beast has chosen to do what you'd think no one would dare to do even if He were a thousand miles away. It has dressed itself up in a lion-skin and is wandering about in these very woods pretending to be Aslan." Jill wondered for a moment if the Ape had gone mad. Was he going to tell the whole truth? A roar of horror and rage went up from the Beasts. "Grrr!" came the growls. "Who is he? Where is he? Just let me get my teeth into him!" "It was seen last night," screamed the Ape, "but it got away. It's a Donkey! A common, miserable Ass! If any of you see that Ass - " "Grrr!" growled the Beasts. "We will, we will. He'd better keep out of our way." Jill looked at the King: his mouth was open and his face was full of horror. And then she understood the devilish cunning of the enemies' plan. By mixing a little truth with it they had made their lie far stronger. What was the good, now, of telling the Beasts that an ass had been dressed up as a lion to deceive them? The Ape would only say, "That's just what I've said." What was the good of showing them Puzzle in his lion-skin? They would only tear him in pieces. "That's taken the wind out of our sails," whispered Eustace. "The ground is taken from under our feet," said Tirian. "Cursed, cursed cleverness!" said Poggin. "I'll be sworn that this new lie is of Ginger's making."

#LastBattle

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