#woe stomach pain be upon ye | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetorturerwrites · 1 year

Text

Lamb Ch 15 - Dathomir

***This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @elmidol. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

Previous Chapter

A/N: Well hi there. It looks like this beast still lives. I am unendingly grateful for your patience.

C/N: None

---

Fourth man bled to life. At the fracturing of all that was, heartbreak and misery begat a new age. From the ashes of the gods came the greatest of Grandfather Sky Walker’s gifts. Mercy.

The world was red.

The red that is death.

But you did not want to leave him…

From dark déjà vu, you jolted awake. This time, however, it was not to the eternal gloaming of Hosnia but a jagged terrain cast pallid and somber. Pain radiated from the middle of your body, but you forced yourself to sit and then stand. You took stock, just as so many times before. Fingers and toes moved. Your back stretched and arched, though your muscles groaned for it. Whole…

…Mostly.

You looked around, finding only gray-scale badlands, a nothing landscape that boasted no defining features at all save a black cobblestone path stretching in the cardinal directions for as far as your dry eyes could see, though there was none here to walk the road. Panic gurgled. You could hear the bubbles in your throat because the quiet here was absolute, so absolute as to be terrifying. Nothing here lived. Even the air was dead, thick as smog.

Not for the first time since you crossed The Demarcation, you wondered what this meant for you. Devoid of hope was a feeling with which you were intimately familiar, but even the last time you’d felt its clutch, you’d been nestled safe within the rocky honeycomb Kylo made into his home. You winced at the very thought of him, lips trembling as you fought not to fall into all you’d surely lost. Closing your eyes, you let yourself wallow in the days gone by. Somehow, it filled you with something new - a determination to get back there to him.

“Over here, beloved.”

Your head swiveled so quickly you threw yourself into dizziness. You knew that voice, but it was off, just the wrong side of memory. How was that voice - how was she here ? Was she here at all? Or had you descended so fast into paranoid madness?

Turning, you found her seated upon a stack of round, flat rocks. Rocks that had not existed a moment ago. Amazed, you fell over yourself getting to her, filled with equal parts relief and dread. The back of your head buzzed that this wasn’t right, but she had been your salvation too many times before for you to forsake the chance to bury your woes in her arms again. You ran as best your bruised body could carry you and collapsed at her feet. The swish of purple fabric she so loved, the smell of flowers that soothed the yearning in your heart. You erupted into great heaving sobs because she was all you'd wanted since the day you dreamed the first dream of your planet's destruction. Her weathered hand cupped your cheek, and she smiled. Great Father, she smiled, and you felt young again, free and untroubled.

She was everything you remembered. You could face anything - any darkness, any fresh hell - so long as she was here, even if you did not know where here actually was. You pressed kisses into the wrinkled palm, willing your mind to accept this. Don’t break it. Don’t see the cracks. Your stomach, though, lurched. If she was here, and you were here, that made here…

"Nona? It's you, yes?"

But she was not simply she, and when you took a breath, a pause, you saw it. There was a sheen to her face, an inky ring around the irises that glowed in a way so strikingly similar to eyes you couldn't bear to picture. Those kind eyes you'd known since childhood had a depth to them now that gave you pause. Had it always been there? A vastness of knowing you’d never noted before. Were you only now old enough to see?

"Yes," she said, "And no."

Her voice was richer. No, that wasn’t it. Her voice wasn’t… solitary. Its timbre layered one voice upon another - one you remembered, and one that made your very cells pulsate. You knew confusion had taken over your features, changed wholly by anxiousness because the details of your most treasured relative were so, so close to right. But where her back spent a decade crooked, she sat upright without difficulty, and though her hair was as silver as it had ever been, it floated around her shoulders, fuller and star-touched like she'd swum in waters made of light.

Carefully, committed to the facade, not-Nona unfolded herself from the precarious perch and stood. In your lifetime, her soft body sagged over, keeping her at eye level with you. Now, she stood straight, a full head taller than you. She bent forward to help you up, and finally, the feminine facade fell away. It was his hand that clasped yours and drew you to your feet once more.

“You…”

A novel mix of horror and wonder churned in your heart. You dropped his hand as though it burned like ice, hissing and taking a step back. You refused to accept this truth, a stubborn line drawn in the sand because this was too far into the territory of gods. You vaulted from one insane explanation to another to explain the predicament - demon, hallucination, death fugue, Solo in disguise. Anything but what you knew to be the answer, but it was futile.

Silently, he waited, allowing you the time to argue with yourself. In response to your scowl, he smiled, but where it should have offered comfort, it made you angry. His stillness made you angry. His face, the way he clasped his hands behind his back patiently, the twitch of his mouth inside of the white goatee - all of it infuriated you because what you wanted - what you deserved - was the face he'd stolen.

That was the truth. The face you deserved to see, the one you’d endured so much to find in whatever version of peace she achieved, did not stare back at you.

"Did you wear her face for me, Great Grandfather? Or are you cruel like your son?"

You didn’t recognize your voice when it came. Lower and more indignant than ever before, it frothed in your throat, sizzling like acid. Beyond frustrated, ready to murder at the next contrary word said, you curled your fingers into fists, nails gouging at the tender flesh of your palms. The real Nona would roll over in her grave if she knew you spoke to the Maker of Heaven in such a manner, regardless of how deserving he was.

He, however, said nothing in response to your barb, though his eyes narrowed slightly. He knew which son you meant, which monster you compared him to, and he did not like it, though you doubted you were meant to know it.

“What is this place? Am I finally dead?”

If you asked him questions, maybe you wouldn’t unleash the years of pain you’d squashed into the bottle that was your gullet. Maybe you wouldn’t gouge his eyes out or fashion a weapon of your own tibia just to find out if he had a heart to stab. Somewhere in the middle of that tidal wave of rage, though, it occurred to you that you were doing the exact thing you’d done to Kylo daily since the moment you’d met him. The thought of your twilight god strangled the breath out of you, heartbreak shooting up into your temples and switching on the faucet behind your eyes. Your palm instinctively sought your belly, brow furrowing as fresh grief took root.

Wherever you were, Kylo was not, and you felt untethered from reality without him as your foundation.

Sky Walker cautiously pulled you closer, holding your shoulder to the center of his chest. You were so entrenched in your distress you allowed it. Who knew how long he’d give you this solace before disappearing to do whatever it is supreme beings do to pass the years.

“So many questions.” He chuckled, softly and obviously not meant maliciously. This time, you forced yourself to not flinch away. "I knew it would draw him like a moth to flame."

Coaxing you to walk, he led you along the eerie road.

“No, you are not dead. This is Dathomir. Many, the nuns for example, think that the demarcation is the line of Balance, but Dathomir is the true convergence of light and dark, life and death.”

He spoke as though this was a lesson and you his pupil. He gestured around as though he showed you the secrets behind the curtain, but you keyed on the only detail that mattered.

"You knew? Knew what?"

Your thoughts jumped so erratically that it was hard to fix one in the center of your mind long enough to spit it out. He’d known you would draw Kylo out? Had he sent you? Did Nona know? Your eyes must have been round as moons because when he looked back at you, Sky Walker chuckled again and patted your shoulder. But rather than offer you anything of value, he continued his lesson as though it was the only thing that mattered.

“He brings the dead here, and they decide if they will be born again or return to the chaos some other way to rest.”

Blinking rapidly, you decided that the only way to get the answers you wanted was to play along, play his game.

“Some other way?”

His face lit up at your sudden participation. His eyes twinkled, and his lips twitched in suppressed delight, an animation you recognized as a trait of Kylo's. You'd often wondered if they were born in Sky Walker's image, and the similarity in expression seemed testament to that fact. But where Kylo and Solo wore haloes of ebony, Sky Walker was adorned by an almost iridescent crown, a glow to his hair that stretched down into his beard as well. The smattering of freckles across his nose winked like stars, and though he was weathered, it was impossible to discern his age or even his general age range. His body was old, his face wizened, but he stood true, and he had no limp as he walked.

“There is no energy that exists that is ever wasted. The galaxy is one, chaos and peace, conscious and not. Everything that dies can live again, though awareness is not a requirement. Flowers are alive, but they are not mindful of it. Those choices are made here.”

You glanced around, seeing not a single soul, and tried to decide if Sky Walker was a liar or a lunatic. Pursing your lips, you tried your luck once more since this particular deity didn't seem to hate questions as much as your own. You pushed the thought of Kylo away because, if you meant to get back to him, you had to figure out where the fuck you actually were.

“Where is Dathomir? Hosnia is a physical place. Chandrila, too. But I’ve never heard of Dathomir nor where it could be located.”

Sky Walker smiled, clearly pleased with your logic. Leaning towards you, he outstretched his aged hand towards what a sable sky, shimmering to produce a picture of a place you knew well. High, vaulted ceilings. Stars trapped to dance inside wall sconces. A magnificent throne made of stone. You knew it all - only it was backwards. The answer clacked in your head like thunder, and you gripped the man’s shoulder probably far harder than you should.

“We’re inside the mirror!”

He laughed, more vigorous than his earlier chortle. The sound drew your full gaze, and you canted your head slightly to one side at the new puzzle he presented. His voice was heartier than before, if such a thing were possible, and he looked younger, too. The patchy goatee from only moments ago was fuller, more perfectly framing his filling-in face. Was it possible that he was de-aging? Is that a thing gods do?

“Mm. You may think of it that way if you wish. The obelisk is a doorway to Dathomir, yes. It lets me…” His face clouded, and he looked away. “It lets me be close to him without interfering.”

It was only one insignificant detail, a kernel of knowledge that should have skipped away like a pebble on smooth water, but it stuck in your craw. Your brow knit, and you paused. Sky Walker did not meet your eye, which only emboldened you to speak freely. You had literally nothing left to lose. What more could he take from you?

“Are you telling me you’ve been here the entire time? In Dathomir, whose doorway is in the fucking throne room?”

Your voice rose to a shout by the end of your inquiry, and Sky Walker’s face gave you all the answer you needed. Maybe it should have produced another emotion - awe, perhaps, at knowing a different world lay on the other side of the smooth obsidian - but the anger you’d momentarily misplaced came screaming back to the surface, and you were fresh out of reasons to be reserved.

“You’ve watched him search for you for generations. You watched him hurt? Watched him grow more and more weary? And you did nothing! You’ve let him stretch death across the galaxy as he hunted you, and you hid here like a coward in the goddamn throne room?!”

You beat your own thigh to keep from outright punching the Allfather. What right did he have to rest so easily while his son suffered?

“You left him! Alone and lonely, you left him to himself for all this time!”

Where your shrieks should have produced echoes, there was only a muted thud. The vacuum of Dathomir sucked up the emotion, leaving a lingering hollowness you felt in your joints. Doorway or not, your anger battered against the inside of the mirror but could go no further.

“I did.”

Sky Walker nodded somberly, pulling his shoulders back to stand fully upright. His chest expanded wide as he drew in a great breath, growing into his prime as he seemed to steel himself against your ire. He clasped now muscular hands behind his back and faced you. You felt compelled to shrink before this new version of him, but you forced yourself to keep the ground you’d gained. This was no old man. This was the Leader of Heaven - solid, capable, resolute - but you were a perpetual idiot, as Kylo enjoyed telling you, and you’d be damned to nothing if you let this man skate over his sins.

“Of my sons, Kylo has always been the stronger. Solo is impulsive, prone to hubris. He lacks scope, you see. But Kylo…” The Great Father smiled, clear fondness softening the lines of his face. “Kylo sees all. He saw even what I did not.”

“Impulsive?” You screeched and threw a hand out, motioning to what he’d clearly seen. “Try murderous? Genocidal? He wants to blot out the sun and replace it with himself. That is a bit more than hubris, and you damn well know it.”

Sky Walker sighed and turned towards the skyline mosaic more fully. You followed his line of sight as the picture shifted to show your body slumped against the base of the obelisk and Kylo mid-roar with half of Hosnia blasted into oblivion. You were the epitome of powerless, forced to watch as the picture moved, turning from snapshot to live reel in a blink.

It was pure agony.

Horrified, you watched as Kylo gripped his brother by the collar, barely acknowledging that half of the man’s head was gone. With a haggard face devoid of everything but hate, he gripped a bloody collar with bloodier hands and dragged Solo to The Demarcation and threw him out, purging the land he’d so meticulously curated of Solo’s uninvited pandemonium.

When Kylo returned to stand over you, jaw ticking and hands balled into fists, tears rolled in fat tracks down your dirty cheeks. You lifted a hand as though you could reach for him, but recoiled and turned away. Instinctively, you knew there was no going back. Dathomir offered only one choice - rebirth. Regardless of what form it took, you would re-enter the cycle and be separated from him forever.

“I can’t do this.”

You doubled over, crumpling to the ground amidst such sorrow you could not even sob. The tears flowed unchecked, but your chest and throat could produce no sound, no heaving. This was shock, absolute loss, and utter, utter failure. You’d only just told him you’d take up his place, but you never got the chance to even try.

“I’m not like them,” you wheezed, lifting pleading eyes upon the creature you suspected set all of this in motion. “Not like you. This is too much. Please…” Admitting defeat, you bowed your head, a husk of the fiery fighter you’d only just been. “Let me go.”

Sky Walker came to crouch beside you, gently placing his hands on your shoulder. Part of you hated that his nearness was peaceful, but you had no battle left to give this war.

“Something happened with you, sapling. Something I did not expect, but that offers us the opportunity to reshape the cosmos and, maybe, unbreak his heart.”

Your eyes throbbed - both from crying and trying to not - but you lifted them to his face and gaped in surprise. He positively was growing younger by the moment, for now he looked like a young man in his twenties, robust with full cheeks, red tinting his beard, and clear, calculating eyes.

He tipped his face up again, enticing your gaze to follow his to the new shapes swirling and coalescing. It was Kylo reaping, red vapor trailing after him, and you, curled up alongside a dying boy, whispering your prayer hoping to calm his panic. You remembered that day and the fantastic lack of control you had over your body at that moment. Even knowing the danger, even knowing Kylo might tear you to pieces for disobeying, you were compelled to do everything in your power to soothe fears you understood all too well.

“Look there,” he gestured to another patch of sky and a new chapter to the story.

Beyond that boy stood two men, not much older than the lad on the ground. Spontaneously, you knew they were his brothers, and they whispered the invocation in exactly the right pace with you. Each cried, but they did not try to shake their brother back to life. It was as though they could see you lying next to him, and they feared interrupting. They finished the prayer with you, knelt down beside their now lifeless loved one, and whispered thanks…to you.

Sky Walker smiled at your astonishment.

“They pray to you now, you know. They and their wives. Their mother. Their children. Everyone to whom those brothers shared the tale of Mother Death, who comforts the dying before her consort, The Ren, comes to claim them. Those whom he left untouched; they speak of you."

If your jaw were once attached to the rest of your face, you’d never have known it. Your mind tried to smash these mismatched shards together, but it was too much.

“No. That’s absurd.”

Sky Walker shrugged, dropping to sit next to you, cross-legged and lanky. His clothes sagged around his slender limbs, and his hair hung shaggy around a smiling, carefree face. It occurred to you that you were running out of time to ask him what the hell was happening to him. He was a teenager now, no older than the dying boy on the hill and unbecoming with every second that passed.

“Maybe,” his adolescent voice cracked - half youth, half rich - the blending of boy and man. “But there was a time when nobody prayed to my sons, and then one day, they did. Faith changes.”

He touched your shoulder again, and his boyish features were so earnest you nearly wept.

“And now, faith includes you.”

You blinked. And blinked again. And again. Because none of this made any sense. You searched Sky Walker’s face for answers he didn’t seem rushed to provide and found it curious to be seeking galaxy-sized guidance from a child.

“What does that mean?”

“It means the Second Age of Gods is here,” he grinned as though he’d single handedly caught it in his own hands, like a fish. But when you only stared at him, he shook his head as though you were the daft one and he wasn’t talking foolishness. “It means that if you agree, you will take my place.”

He was practically giddy, and you could do nothing - absofuckinglutely nothing - but stare at this genuinely unhinged almighty. But if you did this, maybe that meant you’d get to go back to Hosnia, to Kylo. The possibility made your palms itch, and even in this temperate atmosphere, your neck sweat.

“Agree? Agree to what?”

“Balance is not so simple as light and dark, is it?” The voice talking to you now was eerily young, a ghost-child who knew untold secrets but died far too early. It was haunting. “It took me too long to learn that, but it is too great of a burden, is it not? We must stretch it throughout space and time.”

The Great Father was now desert brown hair hanging over clear blue eyes, chubby cheeks tinted rose at the high points. He was grabby fingers curled into your sleeve and the echo of forever hidden in his child’s tone. He was almost…almost undone.

“You will bear him many children, sapling, and each one will carry a piece of me - no you! That is the agreement. You will help him with his task, and care for the dying until he can put down the saber. And we will bless the cosmos with a new generation of caretakers.”

What he offered was beyond comprehension. It was massive and complex. You had a million questions, but there was no more time. You understood that as Sky Walker de-aged, that was the clock on your decision. You had this moment - and this moment only to choose. You could choose to re-enter the fray of life, try to find peace as something simpler and let Sky Walker devolve into nothing. Or, you could choose a different chaos - one that was frenetic in the most exciting way and came with intimacy you’d never dreamed possible and kisses that held the very meaning of life, the point of everything.

Your spirit suddenly felt too big for your body, and you thought for sure you’d combust or learn to fly any second because there truly was no choice at all, was there? All he had to do was tell you where to leap.

“What do I do?”

#kylo ren #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #lamb

51 notes · View notes

fayoftheforest · 1 year

Text

rating the main five based on how sickly i think they’d be <3

(AKA I’m on my fourth cold since september and if i have to suffer then so do my blorbos)

Stan: 4/10. He gets nauseous quite a lot, but that’s typically to do with his anxiety and less a stomach bug. When he does get sick, he will keep powering through his daily life as if nothing’s the matter, until some kind soul goes “Woah, dude, you don’t look so good,” upon which he will realise that he doesn’t feel so good either, and then he collapses into a heap and crawls into bed until he’s feeling better. He has asthma, so sometimes that makes respiratory-related illnesses stressful and potentially dangerous, but he’s got a reliable stock of inhalers, and 1+ very stressed out caretaker(s), so he’s alright in the end, and usually recovers pretty quickly.

Kyle: 8/10. With canon and fanon as my witness, I do declare that is one sickly motherfucker. From the first snowfall he’s sniffling, and it doesn’t stop until the last of it has melted. But shitty immune system be damned, this boy can work a cold denial! He will keep strutting around no matter how down bad he is, insisting that he’s fine, like he’s genuinely fine, like no that wasn’t a sneeze followed by a painful coughing fit, you must have misheard, and yes his nose has always been that red, that’s perfectly normal actually, and get your fucking hand away from his forehead he’s not FEVERISH he’s FINE. Once he’s finally been wrestled into bed, he will lay there feeling deeply sorry for himself and worrying that he’s going to infect his caretaker(s), until he gets sidetracked contemplating all the things he has left to do today, and before you know it he’s puttering about the house again, and the cycle continues.

Cartman: 3/10. He rarely gets ill, but you wouldn’t know it. It’d be too easy to dismiss him for a hypochondriac, but he knows exactly what he’s doing when he starts his woe-is-me speil over some suposed sickness. Over the years he has perfected faking illnesses into a fine art, to the point where unless you had good reason to be suspicious, you couldn’t separate his coughs, sneezes and general sickly presentation from the real deal. We’re talking Ferris Beuler level trickery here folks!! He generally abuses his talent to get out of school, work, or any unwanted responsibilities, but when the opportunity presents itself he will conveniently accidentally “sneeze” right on the back of germaphobic Kyle’s neck. Which is received about as well as you’d expect it to. (With rage, and threats of violence :)

Kenny: 6/10. The total opposite to Cartman, Kenny gets sick a little more than most, but is a master at concealing his illnesses. Kyle wishes he was on Kenny’s level. This guy could be on the brink of death and the only thing that would call attention to it is him ever so slightly clearing his throat, and then quietly apologising for it. If anyone does figure out that he’s sick, he won’t deny it, but he’ll certainly downplay it. He does not no how to handle sympathy directed his way, and reacts to any attempts at caring for him with awkward gratitude and a constant reminder that they really don’t have to be doing this right now. But, if shown just the right amount of kindness, he will break down sobbing because everything hurts and he’s just so exhausted and he misses being able to breath through his nose. After that he will fall asleep, and when he wakes up he’ll feel a bit better but extremely embarassed, and start apologising all over again.

Butters: 5/10. For once, he’s the most sensible of the bunch, because when he comes down with something, he’ll take a few days off until he’s back on his feet. But by god is he clingy when he’s sick. If you are not with him, he will be constantly texting you. If you are with him he will still be texting you because he may have lost his voice, but he’s still got plenty to tell you!! He also begins to feel very touch-starved, and becomes a lot more touchy-feely with others, which is welcomed by some, tolerated by others, and loathed by Kyle, because god fucking damn it Butters keep your icky germs away from him :(((

Anyway yeah those are my headcanons! I’d love to hear your own personal ratings too. Might make a part two for CATG if people are interested in my soft, loving sadism :)

#south park #headcanons #sp stan #sp kyle #sp cartman #sp kenny #sp butters #i'm so fucking tired of being ill i simply want to be well again #but failing that this is the next best thing :D

102 notes · View notes

candyradium · 2 years

Text

my tummy hurts but im being sooooo brave about it

#candy posts #i am in a decent amount of pain and i am at a family gathering i hate it here #however my parents know and as such i am sitting in the corner with my laptop while everyone else finishes lunch #so like. yea merry fuckin christmas #god saw me being apathetic abt the holidays and was like woe stomach pain be upon ye

2 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Obey Me! Heavy Thoughts for the Dateables

Warnings: Mentions of Death

A/N: Reasons for heaviness may vary! I was in a mood so I kinda scribbled this out in days,, uh yeah!! A little all over the place and ye!!

Barbatos:

His eyes and hands ache, his mouth dry no matter the amount of water he intakes. His temples thud with a dull pounding, one that echoes lightly and steadily. It’s been a rather rough day for Barbatos. Woken up late, and with an already bad feeling about the day. His eyes glow, a bright green light that fades as soon as it comes. His head is heavy and he can feel the effects of the power creep against him, but there is no time for rest, he has duties that he must attend to. He picks himself up and blinks once and then twice, as if willing the pain to go away and he is off. He is steady as he works, precise as if there is not a growing pain that makes itself known the more that he goes on and the longer that the day continues. He was allowed the day off, had concern expressed over him with a steady hand on his back slowly leading him to his bedroom but he declined. It was a simple headache, a simple bad day that must be powered through. There was no use for such worry over something so simple.

It’s a heavy day and he’s had them before but they don’t lessen with each blow- they still hit as heavy as ever. He walks quietly, his demon form exposing himself, his wing-like horns piercing into him, the bones of the appendages pulled taut. His tail swings widely, curved as it sways along, narrowly missing each statue and piece of item that decorates the hall. He cleans dutifully, each piece of furniture polished and dusted, the headache only growing more and more, pounding against his head. His hands grip a cleaning feather duster, the wood splintering in his hand, his jaw tightening and eyes narrowing. The brick wall touches against his gloved palm, the indent and grooves of it press against the fabric, marring it with imperfections, the hand that holds the duster loosens, the feathers brushing against his pant leg. His vision grows spolthy and he casts a glance towards the end of the hallway, paintings move and peer from the frame, watching as the butler walks away. His steps echo in the castle, and he knows that he’s taking time off for such a simple feeling, guilt builds in his body, his legs becoming heavy with lead, and yet, he can’t stop himself. He was given permission, was encouraged and he had looked the other way, but he needs it now.

He hides himself in a corner of the castle, door locked and lights off and he’s nervous. He isn’t allowed to use his power freely and he isn’t going to; he’s simply going to take a peek. Something has come over the butler, something so terrible and nerve wracking and he has no idea how to calm it, how to force his tail to stop swinging so rapidly- he feels irritated. A final look is given to the door- there are no shadows underneath and he takes a deep breath, the smell of parchment and cotton in the air. Time flashes before his eyes, glowing brightly, his hair slowly creeping, longer and longer as milliseconds go by. Everything passes by in a mere blink of the eye and when he returns, his hair receding back to its usual length, his eyes slowly dimming, he sits on a chair. His head is in his hands, his eyes closed and nails softened by gloves scratch into his scalp.

It’s a dip of himself, just a slight little thing that went wrong; and yet, he can’t shake off the feeling. Nearby, he can hear footsteps, they come in eager and almost unsure. Shadows form under his door and he can hear muffled voices, his name being spoken is a constant and there is worry evident in both of the voices. His brows furrow and he rises, his shoulders slacked and exhaustion heavy in his eyes. One of the shadows disappear, footsteps echoing in the distance and the handle to the room turns slowly, his name called once more in a whisper. Through the small gap from the doorway, he sees your face, hesitation graced among your features until they fall and in its place, concern takes over. You close the door quietly behind you, his name whispered under your breath as you rush towards him. You cup his face in our hands, pulling yourself close to him. You hold him as if he is porcelain and he simply bows his head, eyes closing, and his tongue is bitten between his teeth. In a sudden movement, he goes to hold you.

Your hands move from his face to wrapping your arms around him. He leans into your touch, his tail wrapping around your waist and tightening his hold on you, the bones of his horns, pressed against your plush cheek. Barbatos tells you how silly it all is, to feel this bad over a simple bad day, his voice trailing off into a hoarse whisper, and you don’t want to imagine the poor demon crying at the thought of such a heavy day. You hold him, comfort him and edge yourself closer until you reach a couch. He rests nearly above you, his leg swung over yours, and face still buried against your shoulder. Your fingers thread through his hair, curling strands of it around your index as you listen to his woes, his grip tight and voice delicate. In your arms is a demon, beautiful and powerful, but in your arms, he is exquisite and frail, never once lifting his head no matter the times his name is whispered. His hands ghost over your body, the gloves soft against your skin and slowly, he removes them, letting the warmth of his hands curve over your neck as he rests near your collarbone. He begs for you to hold him, just a little bit longer, just until he feel like he can stand and you do so, promising to sit and hold him, ending the words with a kiss against the crown of his head.

Diavolo:

The soon-to-be king is lonely. He grew up being respected but without a friend. He grew with a father who had lost someone he loved and he grew without a mother’s touch. As much as Diavolo can try, he will have limited friends. He is someone that people watch their tone with, they watch their words and avoid playful teasing. Deep in his bones, he knows that he is lonely, that the friends he does have still hold some type of fear towards him, they still respect him. It’s a long day in the castle. It’s quiet, there are minimal sounds and the portrait of his father stands behind his desk, looming over his shoulder and he can never tell if his expression is remorseful or something akin to a scolding look. The prince sits alone with a heavy heart in a room that feels far too large for him to be in.

As a young boy, he has learned to hold himself high. He has grown up knowing that he will be a king. He wants to do great things. He wants to bring people together for reasons that he doesn’t quite want to admit but also because he is so desperate for attention, for any sign of love and acceptance. He is a caged bird, trapped between bars, watching as others gaze upon him, watching relationships form in front of him without reaching towards him. It isn’t healthy for him to let these thoughts dwell but in an empty room, he can’t find the will to push them away. His face is buried in his hands, eyes closed until colors and inorganic shapes dance behind his closed eyes and he sits still for a long time, the unblinking eyes of his father boring into him. Golden eyes brimmed with hope are dimmed, staring at the papers on the desk. He’s already done, finished long ago and yet, he can’t force himself to rise and leave the room that is slowly constricting around him.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth, something that makes him sick to his stomach when his D.D.D. remains unbothered, the screen faced down, not a single sound erupting from it. He learned long ago to never expect much from it. But now you��re here. You are a human, that is it. You hold no true power other than the pacts that you have made and yet you make him wait with bated breath for every message of yours. It’s unhealthy to put so much of his happiness in your hands but he can’t help it. You are the first to not fear him for his title. You are the first to hold his hand and lean against him. You are the first that he has ever had the pleasure to grow so close to and yet you are human. You are compassionate and you do not fear him in any type of way, you include him and laugh with him. You both share inside jokes and he isn’t alone with you. He stands from the desk, his bones aching and he sets out.

He goes to visit you, a bag of sweets in his hand- a cheap excuse to come and visit you even though you have told him that he can visit whenever he wants to. His smile is bright, stretched wide as he holds the bag in front of him, already making himself comfortable on your bed. He can breathe a little bit lighter, his smile now more tired than forced, and his heart still heavy. The weight on his shoulders has shifted into something more troublesome. When your hands cup his face, his smile wavers and he leans into your touch. He confesses to you that he has been lonely and it isn’t like his other confessions- this one isn’t made in a passing comment, this one is said out loud in a somber tone, his hand encasing yours, his eyes brimming with tears and voice in a hoarse whisper and he can’t find the words to describe just how lonely it is for him- how lonely it was before you came into his life.

Diavolo is large beside you on the bed and he is somber, looking much older than he usually does and you wonder for a brief moment just how lonely he was, how it must have felt for him to realize that he won’t have a true connection. You move to sit beside him, cradling his body and pushing him towards you, his head on your chest and hands held together. You rub your thumb over his knuckles, the scars soft under your touch, and when you kiss the top of his head, he holds your hand tighter. He can be a king, he can be a prince or a lord, but he is still someone who craves a relationship, to be included and to have a friend. He rests on your bed, his body warmed by yours and his hand held. He is soothed by your heartbeat, your ever loving touch and his thoughts are silenced when you begin to whisper to him promises that you’ll be beside him while legs entangle themselves with yours. Resting on you, he is comforted, held and told sweet things, and soon with a heavy heart, he moves to hold you above him. You lean down and peck against his lips, his smile tired and eyes still holding wisdom and knowledge that you’ll never know of and he keeps you by him throughout the night, memorizing each and every scar that your body offers, his lips hot against your body.

Simeon:

As an angel, Simeon has to avoid temptations wherever they fall. He’s seen what it can cause- the destruction and death that it could lead to and he has no time for that, not when Luke is under his care. You, however, do not make it easy to sway from such temptation. He doesn’t know what will happen in the coming future and the thought terrifies him. He knows that human life spans are so short, so insufferably short and unexpected, and even if you do live for long, he’ll see you die and the odds of you becoming an angel are something that he has no clue in. You come to him so eager and full of life, so ready to hold him in your arms and he won’t ever be ready for the day that you lay in a bed, too weak to move your arms and hold him again. While he won’t ever do the unspeakable- at least that’s what he tells himself- you unknowingly add to his pressures.

For now, he doesn’t think about that. He thinks about you now. He thinks about your smile and your usage of kaomojis. You still have life and that’s all that matters to him. He thinks about the fun memories that he can make in the meantime with you. His D.D.D. will buzz with new messages, new reports and various other things that come in and he’ll have to face it eventually but it’s all too much. It’s too much, too soon. He has to speak to you one day of his duties, confess upon his knees and tell you that he does it because- well, because he has to. He is an angel, who is he to disobey, to find his voice when it’s suddenly convenient for him. His wings weigh him down, heavy and lined with gold, shimmering under the light of God, and he is supposed to be holy and yet, he cannot touch you without his gloves. He’s afraid he’ll stain you and your being. He’ll taint everything precious about you with just a simple touch.

However, he still seeks you out. Late at night, he’ll search for you, a ripple of itchiness that shoots across his back, tingles that ache as his wings beg to be released. He finds you and curls up to you, so tense and terrified and you’re there to comfort him. He rests beside you, hand in hand, wickedness and love combined, something so sweet that it makes his eyes water and mouth thick with honey. His hands are gloved, not daring to touch anything that he shouldn’t unless it burns his skin. He stares at your wall, littered with pictures of you and the family that you’ve made along the way, you're smiling with a smile that stretches so wide he’s blinded by it. You’ve allowed him in your room, in your sanctuary because he came to you. He’s beside you, a small, golden cross rubbed between his forefinger and thumb, and he can feel his heart race.

Sweat beads against his forehead, his back aching as his mouth dries. The flesh of the son is heavy on his tongue, the blood thick and bitter as it soaks anything sweet in him. His hand tightens and he can feel his hand tightens round yours. He has to be careful- he can’t hurt you. He won’t forgive himself if he ever did. His tongue is between his teeth and in a picture of yours, your tongue is stuck out, hugged between your lips and his vision becomes blurry, fire in his eyes as he stares. He must show the emotion- whatever it is- on his face, read like an open book. You call his name, your hand above his, and he doesn’t register it, he can’t. You call him again, tugging on his hand and pulling away the golden cross. His eyes are wide and you can see the angel in his eyes, the years and the time, the war and the love that he has seen. The cross marks itself in the palm of your hand, and he snaps at you. It’s nothing cruel, but his words are sharp and loud.

You flinch at his words but you offer a tender smile. Your hand opens and the cross itself is tight in your hand. He hadn’t meant to snap. Tears fill his eyes and scorch his cheeks and he’s on his knees, the floor under him cold and solid. Apologies fill the room and he can feel your eyes on him. It’s a heavy day where he cannot feel anything but the weight of everything on his shoulders. You embrace him in your arms, pulling him close to your chest. Unlike the floor, you are soft and warm, holding him as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, feeling your heartbeat like a lullaby to him. Your lips press against his forehead, lips pressed to his skin and hair and he leans to you. His hands tighten around you, pulling himself closer to you; forgiveness has never felt so delicate and repent has never felt so fragile. He cries silently, holding you close to him, letting his tears trace against your skin. Your hands curve against his back, fingertips fluttering between his shoulder blades and pressing lightly between. He wonders briefly if you know where his wings rest, where the hurting hurts the most. You touch lightly around, barely ghosting against the muscles, and he holds himself closer to you. His eyes are fresh with tears, the heaviness in his body slowly lifting as he leans into you, and he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with you. The Celestial Realm is far above, shining in golden light and the sweet air of holiness. Your room is casted in the soft, orange glow of the lamp, the room smelling of apples and jasmine, and here, the tired angel feels safe to lay his weight against you and close his eyes.

Solomon:

Despite being an accomplished sorcerer, Solomon isn’t immune to emotions; he is still human despite being immortal. He is older than you can comprehend, dates and times have been long forgotten by him and the people that he held so close no longer have faces. He is human and he misses the people that he has grown close to. He is immortal, a life that is coveted and always seeking to figure out it’s secrets and yet to him, the life is nothing but cursed. It’s the same routine with each lifetime; it’s people that he grows close to, people whose hands he holds and people who hug him so tight that he can feel their breath on his neck, people with hands that soon grow limp in his.

He does his best to never let his emotions show; he rather not deal with the endless questions of his well being because while he’s fine, he really isn’t. He bottles his emotions and hides them far away and it stays like that. For a while, he can be young, laughing and making references to the world that he lives in now. Other times, he lays in bed, the sun that has been rising is a friend and an enemy to him, the people who age before his eyes are something that he envies. Around you, it’s much different. He knows you’ll die sooner than he would like and he’ll be left alone. You made your way into his heart. You hold a special place within him and he worries for the day when he’ll forget your face and the way your hands feel against his neck, and the taste of your lips that are so sweet and soft.

Glyphs and notes are strewn across his room, the sorcerer at work as he tries to figure something out- something to just keep you safe as much as he can, to ensure that you won’t meet an early fate. It’s desperate and selfish of him but he knows he won’t be able to stand the silence once you’re gone. He’s unlike himself, silent and eyes too focused to see what is going on around him. You have no idea what he’s doing, just happy to be beside him, to see him at work. You stare at him for far too long, your own notes of spells and potions resting beside you, now forgotten as you choose to focus on your partner. He stands still, eyes fluttering about, and then he moves rapidly. He seeks and searches, erases and scribbles notes crudely in a journal. He is a work of art- beautiful to look at, imperfections and lines adorning his skin and you worry for the day that he’ll collapse.

His eyes will meet yours, a tired smile on his lips and he holds a hand up- five more minutes. A promise that has long turned repetitive but you know how important his work is, how he strives for perfection in his spells. He talks aloud to himself, the spell book in hand- the corners of the pages frayed and various notes and inches of extra paper peeking past the pages. The book fits perfectly in his hand, his face flushed and eyes tired as they stare at a potted plant, the leaves brown and nipped. He mutters under his breath, his eyes glowing for a brief second, his hair lifting as if static were the cause, and you can feel the magic in the air. You glance at the plant, the leaves curling in on themselves before falling off, replacing themselves with new leaves. You stand straighter, excited, assuming that’s what he wanted and when you look at him, he lets out an exasperated chuckle. His chuckle turns to laughter and his laughter turns into frustration, a string of curses chased in different languages echoes in the room. You call his name and he turns to you, cheeks nipped with red and eyes fresh with tears.

Your name is whispered under his breath and you frown, rushing over to him where he holds you tight, his face hidden in the soft curve of your neck. Solomon does not let go of you, he keeps you close, crying into your neck, his hands tightening and he doesn’t speak. Tears burn hot against your skin, his lips moving, words silent and when you hum his name, he only shakes his head, his lips going still. Soon, you both sit on the bed, his body leaning against you for support. He holds your hand, his fingers playing with each of yours, fingertips pressed against his lips in gentle kisses. Solomon confesses to you that he worries for the day that you’ll pass, his eyes closing when he feels your body tense beside him. He doesn’t think he could handle it if you were to leave him. He craves your touch and he hates to admit it, but without you, he is lost. You hold him in your arms, moving until you rest against the headboard, while his head rests on your chest. You hold his hand and tell him that no matter the time that has passed, you’ll still be with him. You hold him in your arms, his tears wetting your shirt as his whimpers are muffled by you, and he knows he’ll miss you but for now, he’ll be comforted by your hugs and the press of your lips on the top of his head. He’ll wish and pray that this isn’t some dream and that when he awakens, you’ll still be there.

411 notes · View notes

dokoni-mo · 3 years

Text

She Truly Was || Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader

Summary: Enmu helps Muzan remember you.

SFW // Fluff with small amounts of Angst

Word Count: 4626

WARNINGS: *slight Mugen Train spoilers*, slight mentions of implied sexual activity, obsessive(?) behavior, Muzan is soft for one person only, some angst, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, I also barely proofread this lol

A/N: I've had this in my head for a while and decided to write it down. This is largely just a compilation of scenarios I made in my head to fall asleep at night when I was stressing over exams and stuff, all loosely thrown together with a plot. This is my first time writing for demon slayer, so please be patient! I also am basing a lot of my info about the characters on s1 of the anime, some of the manga, and the wiki. I apologize if something isn't accurate. tldr; I just think he's neat.

Despite having lived through thousands of years with hundreds of stormy nights in the midst, Muzan Kibutsuji never learned to appreciate them.

Something about nights like those in Japan just never sat right with the demon. It wasn't that they were too dreary, not at all. Life as a demon was plenty dreary. On the other hand, it wasn't that they were to lively either. No one ever went out on stormy nights; demon or not. Perhaps it was just because the rain was another reminder of the singularity that was being a demon. The poignant pitter patter just seemed to have a way of whispering to whoever heard it, telling them the most unpleasant yet quiet truths of their lives.

After Muzan's bloody meeting with the lower moons, he had told Enmu his task Muzan had planned for the pitiful, weaker demon. Although he had doubts that Enmu could hear him over the sound of the weaker demon's screams of pain from the blood he gave, Muzan was pleasantly surprised when Enmu understood the orders the first time around. Seeing as though it would cause trouble if the lower moon started to go around bragging about his newfound power and job, Muzan decided it would be best to keep a crimson eye on the demon.

This is what led to the scene before Muzan now.

Muzan had taken Enmu back to one of his many properties scattered across Japan, this one being tucked away in a lush, quiet forest in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The lower moon had not said a word throughout the entire journey there, and still refused to say anything now. Most likely out of fear.

Although it had been a long day of wrangling the lesser worms he called pawns (or "moons" if he was generous), Muzan did not want to show any weakness towards Enmu by resting. To busy himself, Muzan decided to do the tedious work the humans have him do in the job he took to please his human wife.

That insufferable woman.

With his bowler hat placed on his desk, Muzan had taken a seat in his large, leather chair, ordering Enmu to stand at the edge of the desk and face the opposite way. And, for extra edge, he was not to say or do anything.

It had been about two hours since then. The room was filled with only the sounds of Muzan's writing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Although he ordered it to be that way, Muzan was already sick of it.

Peering his red eyes up from the papers scrawled below him, Muzan fixated his bone-chilling gaze upon the back of Enmu's head. Muzan could see the corners of the lower moon's mouth turned upwards as he faced the wall, presenting himself with an expression of dumb content.

Freak.

Enmu was definately a curious specimen. So eager to die, yet so eager to please Muzan. The demon lord would have been confused if he were not who he was.

Perhaps it was his own boredom setting in, perhaps it was because he wanted to feed his already gargantuan ego, or perhaps it was just because he was tired, Muzan decided to speak up.

"Tell me," Muzan said, his deep, smooth voice making Enmu perk up slightly, "Why is it that are you so loyal to me?"

Enmu took this as an opportunity to finally move, but not without some caution. The lower demon only turned his neck towards Muzan, along with a tilt of his shoulder. Muzan noted the disobedience of orders, but decided to let it slide this time.

The rain must have told him to be generous that night.

"Why, Master Kibustsuji," Enmu said, a faint blush adorning his cheeks, "It is because I am so delighted to be in your presence, and have my power be of service to you."

The demon lord felt his jaw clench at this, his red eyes peering up at the lower moon from under his abyssal lashes. Although Enmu had an... odd, way of putting things, Muzan always did like it when someone stroked his ego, even if all they ever said was the same banter over and over again. He was nearly perfection, afterall.

Muzan sat quietly and pondered Enmu's response for a second, before formulating his own.

"Your power, as you put it," Muzan said, his voice firm, "What is it?"

Enmu's grin widened, "Dream Manipulation, Master. I can enter, manipulate, or control anyone's dreams however I want to. I can use it to kill from the inside, eating a person spirit first and body second. I can also put people to sleep."

Muzan wasn't necessarily impressed by this, but he wasn't disappointed either. An ordinary power, really. Nothing that could ever rival his own.

However...

Muzan's gaze flickered down to the surface of his desk. A flicker of a long lost yet not forgotten feeling bubbled deep inside of his being. A mere spark of light, really, a piece of warmth he felt from long ago, lost to the wayside by the vestiges of time.

It was something Muzan thought he would never experience again.

Dream manipulation, huh?

It might be worth a try.

Muzan looked back up to Enmu, sharpening his gaze, "Tell me, are you able to give... pleasant dreams?"

Enmu was surprised to hear this come from Muzan to say the absolute least. He took this as another opportunity to disobey orders and turn to Muzan again, this time fully and whole-heartedly. The lower moon looked right into those blood red eyes, looking for any sign of a rare flicker of humor or joking.

Muzan's gaze was serious, poised as ever.

Muzan was being for real.

Taking a pause to swallow, Enmu allowed his soft smirk to return to his gray, pale face.

"Why," the lower moon retorted, "I can, Master, yes."

Muzan eyed the lesser demon for a good second at his response.

This move was risky. It could damage his image. Yet, if he was to do this with any of his pawns, he would do it with Enmu. Enmu seemed to have no intent on harming Muzan or his image in any way; he was far too loyal for that.

Besides, if someone were to question the might of Muzan, he could just prove them wrong.

Muzan leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together, wrapping them around his knee. His icy gaze still on Enmu, he spoke again.

"I wish to see a pleasant dream."

Muzan nearly rolled his eyes when he saw just how wide Enmu's grin had gotten and just how flushed his face got.

It was repulsive.

But, if it meant what Muzan thought it would mean...

It was worth stomaching.

After a breif moment used to compose himself, Enmu's smile faded to normal again. He pulled up the sleeves to his coat.

"I will give you a dream where you will experience the happiest days of your life over again, Master Kibutsuji," the lower moon stated, "Is this to your liking or would you prefer something else?"

"No," Muzan stated flatly, "That is fine."

Perfect, even.

Enmu smiled widely one last time, holding out his arm and pointing it at the demon lord.

"Sweet dreams, my lord." Was the last thing Muzan heard before falling into a deep, deep sleep.

"Muzan..."

Despite his blood demon art being so much weaker than his, Muzan wasn't quite ready for just how Enmu put him into a dream like that. Muzan's headache had grown ten-fold now, and he could feel that his face was scrunched.

"Muzan..."

Slowly but surely regaining his full consciousness, Muzan could first feel that he was in different clothes than what he had been wearing before. These ones were lighter, softer, and much more airy than his normal suit. Squinting open his crimson eyes, he saw that he was in what appeared to be a long, dark, flowing kimono.

The second thing Muzan could feel was that it was rather cool where he was, and that he appeared to be lying on the ground. Sifting his weight slowly, he could then feel that his head was lain upon what felt like two soft, plush pillows firmly squished together.

The third thing, however, took him a little longer to discern quite that it was. At first, he thought it was a pair of chopsticks running across his scalp over and over again. Upon, further thought, however, Muzan was further snapped back into awareness.

Those were not chopsticks.

Those were fingers.

All too familiar fingers.

"Muzan..!"

Muzan felt a stir deep down inside of him. He recognized this feeling, this touch, this warmth. It had been so, so long since he had felt like this. How long was it again? It had to be an eternity ago. An eternity wrapped within all time time in the world.

Muzan was speechless. Muzan couldn't move. Muzan was struck from deep within, and nothing in the world could ever compare to its blow.

"Muzan!"

Although the calling of the demon's lord name had been going on for some time now, he was just now able to respond.

Tilting his chin upwards towards the voice's source, Muzan nearly fell to bits right then and there. If he was someone else, he would have wept deep, earnest tears at the very sight of the being above him. For everything and nothing surrounded him as he studied the bright, radiant face above him, and nothing else seemed to exist other than that smile.

Other than her.

Her.

Oh, her, her, her.

His beloved. His sun, moon and stars. The ground beneath his feet and the air around him. His joy and love, his woes and sorrow. His fears and excitement. His warmth and his cold.

You.

You were really here.

"I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up," you said, a faint laugh behind your voice, "You were out for so long!"

This scene was all too familiar to Muzan. He had replayed it in his head countless times, as if it were the only record left in the world.

He knew what this day was, and he knew all of your lines.

How could he ever forget?

Every moment he had ever spent with you had been a blessing.

Right now, his head was cradled in your lap, your soft, delicate fingers combing through his hair oh so gently as he had slept. It was deep into the night, and ordinarily Muzan would not be sleeping at this time. However, your touch was just so relaxing to him.

Everything about you was.

Today, you and him had spent the night wandering through the garden of your home together, chatting about anything and everything. It was only about two months into your relationship with Muzan. Muzan had first come to your home with the intention of eating everyone within the residence, but once he saw your face, watched you, saw your heart, your spirit, your you, he just couldn't.

He just...

couldn't.

You were human, yes.

But Muzan didn't care.

He was in love with you.

Muzan had yet to tell you the truth about him, however.

But that could come later.

"Muzan, are you alright?" He heard your voice echo again, snapping him out of his trance. He saw your face painted with worry, making his own features soften.

His darling angel. If only you knew just how much it pained him to see you with anything other than a smile.

Muzan reached his hand upwards, steadily maneuvering his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear and cup your warm cheek. He was shocked at how real you felt, shocked at just how similar it felt to all those years ago.

Perhaps Muzan had to give Enmu a reward.

The demon lord caressed your cheek gingerly with his cold, calloused thumb, savoring in just how warm your flesh was compared to his. For the first time in what felt like eons, Muzan felt a smile adorn his handsome features. Not one put on just to appease the humans around him, but genuine. The type of smile only you got to see.

Only you.

"I'm more than alright, my darling." He responded, his voice soft and warm, without the normal venom he gives to his subordinates. A voice reserved restrictively for you.

Finally, you let a soft grin come over your heavenly face again, making all seven of Muzan's hearts swell.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said, "But it's about to be dawn soon. I don't want you to get a burn, so let's go in the house again, okay?"

Ah yes, the lie Muzan told you. He, of course, couldn't be with you in the sunlight (as much as he wanted to). So he had told you that he had a rare disorder that made him extra prone to sunburns and heatstroke.

Just something to keep you safe from the truth.

His soft smile still adorning his features, Muzan gave you a nod as he slid his head off of your lap. Since you were on your knees, you were quicker to stand than him. Brushing off your kimono quickly, you offered one of your hands to Muzan to help him stand, of which he gladly took. He had long since forgotted just how perfectly your hand fit into his, along with how radiant your kimono made you look.

Once he was back on his feet, Muzan couldn't help but to hold your arms, holding you a few feet away from him to simply admire you for a moment, his crimson eyes doing laps around your face and body.

You were perfect to him.

Every single thing about you was without flaw in his eyes. Not one curve of your body was too shallow or too wide. Not one strand of your hair was misplaced or without poise. Not one feature on your face took away from your radiant beauty. And you had not one bad bone inside of your body.

Muzan was never one to believe in angels.

However, if anyone in any part of the world were to tell him that you were one of them, straight from the heavens themselves,

He would believe them.

As soon as Muzan stepped through the door, his hand in your own, the scene before him changed in one giant, peaceful flash of white light.

Before him now was no longer the house that he had shared with you all those years ago. Now, in its place, was a beautiful, lush springtime garden, all dredged under the cover of the night. It was not devoid of light, however. There were a few lanterns afloat in the water of the stream, as well as some within the structure of the small bridge that went over top of it. Flowers adorned every nook and cranny of the space, and the occasional insect or bird would make a brief appearance.

A small slice of paradise, just for you and Muzan Kibutsuji.

Fearing that you were no longer by his side, Muzan turned his head. His fears were quickly subsided when he saw you there next to him. Your delicate hands were placed on the railing of the bridge, and your eyes were fixated on the calm water below, almost as if it were a window into the heavens above. There was a small smile plastered on your face, and the delicate lights illuminated each of your features so perfectly.

Muzan knew this night.

This was the night he told you the truth.

The truth about him, about his "condition", about where he went for days on end, about why he couldn't walk with you in the sun, about everything.

This was the one night Muzan had ever felt fear.

"Is it really true, Muzan?" You asked, your gaze still fixated on the water below, "Are you really a demon?"

Muzan felt his lips part in small surprise. Even though he had replayed this night time and time again in his mind, it felt as if this were all happening for the first time over again.

Enmu really was good at this.

Muzan wet his lips before responding, setting his gaze on your precious, beautiful face and refusing to move it, "Yes, my love. It is true. I would not lie to you about this, I..."

A pause to collect this thoughts, before he could continue, "I kept it from you to protect you, (Y/N). I did not want any harm to come to you. My darling, I... I love you. My love for you knows no bounds. You are the stars that shine at night, and you are the shining moon above. Each time I look upon you, all I can stand to think of is how deep my love for you runs. I... I need you, (Y/N). I do not wish for you to be frightened of me, my angel. I would never, not ever harm you, nor let any harm come to you."

You still weren't looking at Muzan, yet your smile had yet to falter. Muzan felt a bubble of nervousness in his gut. Although he knew your response to his words already, even thinking of this moment never failed to make his stomach churn. He hoped his words to you were enough. He doubted that he had ever said anything more truthful in his entire life.

After a long pause of silence between the two of you, you closed your eyes and widened your smile. Then, you opened your eyes again, finally turning to face your lover. You looked Muzan right in the eyes, seemingly unfazed that you were standing so dangerously close to the most powerful being alive.

You were so brave.

Your heart was so big.

Muzan felt so overwhelmed.

"Muzan," you said, your cheeks dusting a light pink.

What you said next to him, Muzan could never get out of his head, never forget. No matter how much he tried, he would never not ever forget your words in that moment.

Within that one short, simple phrase, the king of demons fell in love all over again.

"I've always known."

Another flash within his crimson eyes, and the scene had changed again. Nighttime again, of course, but this time within the confines of the bedroom you and Muzan shared. Both you and Muzan were nude, sans the blanket that covered the lower half of your forms. Muzan was on his back, one strong arm wrapped around you, the other cradling the back of his head. Your legs were intertwined with his, and your hair and hands were sprawled out on top of his lean, muscular chest.

Muzan knew this night as well.

It was his most loved night with you, but also his most dreaded.

How cruel fate was.

Stroking your back with the tips of his fingers, Muzan stared up at the ceiling above the two of you. Your body was flush against his, and as warm as ever. He wondered to himself if he was making you cold. If he was, you didn't seem to mind.

After a long period of savoring the silence between you and him, you softly snorted out a cute, soft giggle. This made Muzan angle his chin downward to look at the top of your head.

"What is it?" He questioned.

You giggled again, tilting your head up to look at him. Smiling, you turned your body to lay on top of the demon king, your breasts smushing against his own. Instinctively, Muzan laid his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles into them as he held you in place.

"I just find it funny that even though you profess to have so much stamina, you get tired after only two rounds." You explained to him, a playful mischievousness in your tone and eyes.

Muzan breathed out a smile, reaching up a clawed hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"As I recall it, you were the one complaining it was too much." He quipped back.

You snorted, "As if that ever stopped you before."

The demon let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. Muzan couldn't remember ever laughing so genuinely before you came along. You truly were the light of his life. You filled his days with the sunlight he had long since forgotten, as well with the warmth no other demon could ever have.

He loved you.

He loved you he loved you he loved you.

And he still did.

He watched as you dropped your gaze to his chest, running your fingers along the flesh.

"Muzan..." you said, your voice more serious than before, "I've been thinking a lot lately..."

The demon king hummed, brushing more hair from your face.

"What has been on your mind, my love?" He asked.

You paused for a second before continuing on. Muzan could practically see the gears turning in your head.

"Well, I... I'm not getting any younger, you know, and I've been thinking. I... I really love you, Muzan. You're the only person I can imagine myself being with for the rest of my life. The other day, I was in town, and I saw the cutest family ever with a husband and a wife and two adorable little children, and it made me think..."

You looked up at him again, giving him a soft smile.

"What if we were to have a family of our own?"

Muzan could feel the same sense of joy, love, and pride in his chest as he did this same moment all those years ago. In this moment, he had never felt closer to you before, nor could you recall ever looking more beautiful.

He wanted nothing more than to be a family with you for the rest of eternity.

"Darling, you know what that would mean, correct?" He questioned you. He had told you long before that demons could only have offspring with other demons, for a demon baby would eat its human mother from the inside and kill her. It was gruesome, and had originally made you cringe at the thought. Muzan had thought your reaction was quite cute.

"Yes, yes, I know," you answered, "and I'd be ready for it. Even if I'm a demon, and even if I can never go out in the sun again or live normally ever again, I'd be happy knowing I got to be with you and our baby for the rest of time."

Muzan gave you a smile in return, his long, white fangs flashing in the light of the night. Leaning forward, he kissed you upon your soft, warms lips, gently pulling you closer to him.

This was one of the thousands of reasons why he loved you.

You were always so sweet, so kind and optimistic. He would admit, he did have a soft spot for you and you alone. But he didn't care. You were worth it. You were worth every single piece of money on planet earth. You were worth the sun the moon and the stars, and all the planets here and beyond. You were worth any injury, any heartache, and any trial or tribulation in the world.

The king of the demons unquestionably, unfathomably, undeniably, adored you.

Pulling gently away from the kiss, Muzan looked deep into your eyes, right past your pupils and looked right into your soul, your very being.

"I would want nothing more, my sunlight."

If Muzan could turn back the hands of time, he would have kept you here with him for the rest of everything and beyond.

For he did not know then that was the last kiss you and him would share.

Another flash, and Muzan was no longer greeted with a visage of the past. Much to his dismay, the demon was now greeted with the sight of his office, with a smiling Enmu creepily watching him from across his desk.

What a fucking freakshow.

Taking in a breath of air through his nose, Muzan sat up tall in his chair again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with this thumb and pointer finger.

You were gone again. You were again nothing up a memory, a whisper of a time from the past.

Muzan could hardly bare it.

He had felt you, held you near him.

And just as fast as you came back, you were gone again.

This was a pain almost too hard to bear.

How long was he asleep for? Muzan really didn't care how long it was.

No amount of time with you was enough.

"Did you have the pleasant dream you wished for, Master?" Enmu asked the demon king. The lesser moon was lucky Muzan was in a somewhat good mood that day.

"Yes." Muzan replied simply, closing his eyes to rub them with his thumb, "Excellent work."

Enmu's smile widened at this, his cheeks turning pink again.

"Why, thank you, Master." He responded, his excitement prevalent in his voice.

Enmu really was a special one.

After composing himself again, Muzan scooted his chair forward up to his desk, fixing his gaze back onto his work sprawled out below.

Muzan just wanted to be alone again after that. He had been alone for years now, but he wanted Enmu out of the room. Although he could have easily ordered it to be so, he again did not want to show any weakness to the lower moon.

Christ on a bike. Muzan was so fucking stubborn.

He remembered all the times you nagged him for it.

Oh, what he would give to have you nag him one last time.

After a long bout of silence, the lesser demon decided to speak up again. He turned his head over his shoulder again to Muzan, trying to sound as naieve and innocent as possible.

"Master," Enmu said, "Where is she now?"

Muzan stopped his movements and glared up at Enmu with a venomous glare. How dare he even refer to you. You were so far above him, how dare Enmu even think to invoke your name.

Though Muzan wanted to kill the other demon right on the spot, he decided against it. He still wanted to see how Enmu would do on his mission. Also, Muzan had to admit that he did feel lighter and more generous after his dream with you. And he supposed it was fair that Enmu had his questions.

Feeling nice, Muzan decided to entertain Enmu's question.

Shifting his gaze back to the papers below, Muzan replied.

"Gone." he said, "The night she asked about a family was the last night I saw her alive. The next day, a group of slayers found her and our house. They knew who she was and that she was human, but killed her anyway. All in attempt to get to me. I found her in a pool of her own blood, limp and cold. The slayers died that same night."

Enmu's smile faded at this, his face taking on a look of shock. Closing his lips into a tight line, Enmu looked away, out of a quiet unconscious respect. Everything made so much more sense to Enmu now. Why the demon king was the way he was, his hatred for slayers, his cold-hearted, murderous nature.

It all clicked into place.

"I... I am sorry for your loss, Master." He said, his voice quieter than normal, "She seemed like a lovely woman."

Muzan peered up at the back of Enmu's head. Through his thick, black lashes.

"Yes..." Muzan said.

"She truly was."

#demon slayer #kny fanfic #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kimestsu no yaiba #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan kibutsuji x reader

480 notes · View notes

ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

Claiming Ones Own

Cross posted on AO3

Masterlist

(also I've finally figured out links)

[chap 1] [previous] [next]

Chapter 3 - Mealtime Woes

Her daughter spoke! She was just selective who to. Cass could work with this; this was her ball game!! Excitement filled her veins as she carefully hugged the girl. After the bathing drama she didn’t want to traumatise her too much more. Her daughter could talk and chose to speak to her!! To her of all people. If Cass hadn't claimed her as her own already this would have sealed the deal.

The girl jabbed Cass breaking the hug up. She was still pouting but now also looking disgruntled. The hug, and touch, not having the same effect on her as it did Cass. The murmur of “Chocolate” came out her mouth again, still almost silent that you had to be keen to notice. Luckily this was Cass and with all her past, the subtleties would always be noticed. Her daughter would always been seen/heard and listened to in Cass’s world.

Cass nodded to the girl. She did say she could have chocolate for being good. “Chocolate yes, food too” signing along. She hoped that the signing would allow the girl an alternative way to communicate and pick it up. Maybe sign lessons would need to be added to her mental list.

1) bathe daughter

2) dress cuts and bruises

3) feed daughter

4) name daughter

5) put daughter to bed

6) get clothes for daughter

7) investigate daughters' markings

8) investigate sign language lessons (which language to be decided)

Cass held her hand out for her daughter to choose to take. The hand was critically looked at by the girl before giving Cass a sceptical look, but the girl eventually took the pre offered hand. Cass hummed in contentment; her daughter trusted her, well sort of, the trust was growing at least. She was trusted more than those who had or found her. A warm happy feeling flowed through her body.

Leading her to the kitchen Cass went about finding the girl some chocolate. Her daughter kept a sharp eye on Cass’s movements as she went about finding the promised chocolate. The girl's eyes growing wide and filled with emotion as she saw Cass (and Jason’s) chocolate stash and bar being given to her before she slotted a hesitant mask back into place. Again, the girl cautiously inspected the chocolate before devouring it quickly as if it would be taken from her. Cass slightly frowned, what had her poor baby gone through. She would protect her with everything she could now she was in her care.

Cass’s thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. Her daughter jumped at the noise, eyes blown and scanning the area for threats and escape routes. Not long after came the noise of Jason swearing under his breath as he crashed out of his room to go take the food setting her daughter on edge more. Cass internally chuckled quietly to herself at her brothers loud blustering behaviour which contrasted completely with how stealthily he could really be but was concerned about how the loud noise set her daughter on edge. The girl had winced at the loud noise like it pained her.

Guiding the girl to the table, Jason came back into the room food in his hands. Dim sum, dumplings, noodles, veg and a soup were quickly decanted onto the table. Jason instantly poured a third of the soup into a smaller bowl and placed it in front of her daughter, evidently having decided that was best for her daughter, before loading his plate up with a bit of everything from the selection. Cass grinned at her found family as she brought drinks to the table and started to join Jason in grabbing food.

“So, what happened in the bathroom?! It’s the remains of a warzone Cass” Jason somehow asked between the mouthfuls he was shovelling in.

Cass frowned at Jason’s table manners. It is NOT good example for her daughter. Tapping the table Cass signed to Jason ‘ Manners!!! Alfred will not approve . He would be horrified. ’ “Manners” ‘ Bath time contained more steps than originally planned and anticipated. You will clean it up as I will be settling in MY daughter’ “Bath messy. You clean.” with a glare.

“ME clean!!! YOU made the fucking mess Cass!!! And I’m a guest here, where are your manners Cass hmmmmm. What would Alfred say about that” Jason blasted back before looking at ‘Cass’s daughter’. Speaking softer than he had been a minute ago “Hey Kiddo, as Cass here has decided she is now your mum that makes me your Uncle Jay. And as Uncle Jay I’m saying ya need to eat some of the soup. It will be good for you and your stomach. It’s safe. Promise”

Cass nodded along with Jason’s sentiments to her daughter. “Safe. Eat now” ‘You can eat it. It's safe. Won’t hurt you. It tastes nice.’

The girl shook her head and pushed the soup way. “Kiddo, it’s good for you. Ya need to eat” Jason tried again. They didn’t know when she has last eaten a proper meal and she could do with gaining some weight. The glare he received back was a good one. Not quite the Demon Spawns or Bats level but it was a good glare.

“Ya claimed a stubborn kid Cass. She’ll fit in perfectly with the rest of the crazies B has claimed as his. Found out her name yet?”

Shaking her head at Jason in response to his question, Cass returned her focus to her daughter. “Eat now. Food time”, the girl’s blue eyes bore into Cass’s before turning to look at Jason's. With slow deliberation, the girl picked up the spoon while her eye contact remained flitting between the pair as she moved her spoon held hand out into the room away from the table. Ensuring she still held their attention she dropped the spoon, sitting back with her arms folded, frown upon her face. Clearly not impressed with the soup/food provided.

That was not what Cass expected and strangely cat like. Surely the girl was hungry. She needed a new tactic. Forcing her to eat wouldn’t work and she already had a battle with the bathroom she didn't need or want another one. Jason would be clearing up that mess even if it meant disappointing Alfred. Though she may escape Alfred’s wrath as he now had a great grandchild; yes, that may win her favour. A quick tilt of her head brought Cass back to task how to get her girl to eat. Chocolate worked in getting her to trust her in the alley. It also worked with getting her clean even if she wasn’t happy with it. Should she use it again for getting her to eat a meal, though she could almost feel Alfred’s chagrin if she did that already.

“OUUUUUUUUCCCCHHHHHH” “Hisssssssssssssssssssssssss”

Jason's shout brought Cass out of her thoughts. Jason was cradling his hand with a look of surprise on his face. While her daughter was now standing holding a chopstick in her hand like a weapon. Quickly figuring out Jason took action to get the girl to eat without thinking and she attacked him back, Cass could only grin with amusement. The newest Cain-Wayne was not to be underestimated. Jason should have known better given he was just as bad when he joined the Wayne clan. They all were a little feral at the start and took time to adapt (did any of them ever actually stop being feral?). Her daughter though was clearly now looking distressed and like she would flee the apartment which caused Cass to leap into action to soothe her child. Recalling how Selina sometimes soothed Cass, Cass took to stroking her stubborn but brave girls' hair and humming. Selina would love her new granddaughter Cass was sure.

“She’s another gremlin! Fuck Cass, Demon Spawn is enough, we didn’t need another one! She has claws. Fuck, I didn’t know what she did with the chop stick but it bloody hurts!”

Cass deadpanned him and pointed “Mean!” before turning to her upset girl. “You chose food?” maybe choice would help.

The girl twisted and tilted her head in silent question. “You choose” ‘Your choice on what you eat’ responded Cass. Her girl suddenly skipped up and grabbed Cass’s hand and led to the kitchen to point at the cupboard which Cass had taken the chocolate out. Cass paused. With a reply “No chocolate, Din Sum or soup now” the girls eyes narrowed and pointed again. Cass let out a big sigh and shook her head. Another stalemate already! Oh Great Alfred’s! She would beat Bruce; she could do this; She would not cave.

Jason joined them in the kitchen just as the girl decided to change tactics. Instead of glaring, she looked up to Cass with her blue eyes wide, shimmering with unshed tears, lips wobbling before whispering “Chocolate”. Cass was at a loss, when angry and put out the girl looked cute and amusing, like an angry fluffed up kitten that needed soothing. This though shot to her heart. Could she resist these puppy dog eyes?

Jason caved first. Almost within seconds of the girl switching from hostility to sadness and launched her sad eyes if Cass was honest. “Hey, hey now kiddo, no tears now. Sorry for forcing you to eat soup. It’s ok ya know. You want chocolate, right?” pausing as the girl nodded. “Chocolate on its own isn’t a meal kiddo, but we can sort something out ya got me.” Jason picked Cass's daughter up to put on the counter before bustling around the kitchen opening and closing cupboards grabbing items as he went. “Fuck, you’re light kid, a right little pixie. I’ve got an idea you’ll like. You get your chocolate, but you will have to eat the rest of it, cos if you don’t, no more chocolate in the future, ya got me!”

Big eyes widened to stare at him, fear flickered through them at the mention of no more chocolate, but again she puts her mask back on quickly. Cass went and sat next to her girl on the counter, side hugging her close. The pair watched in curiosity at what Jason was doing. Cass trusted Jason to help her feed her daughter with something suitable based on his experience, though more chocolate was definitely going to get Alfred's disapproval, meh, she’ll blame Jason, she is bringing Alfred a great grandchild after all.

“You got a name Gremlin Two?” Jason stated as he worked his magic with the ingredients he had collected. The growl he got in the return caused him to chuckle “Ok not Gremlin 2. Pixie then? You’ve caused enough chaos for Cass this evening to be one, plus you’re light enough to fly away like fae do.”

It didn’t get a growl but the shaking over the girl's head Cass knew the girl didn’t like the name. Sadly, without the growl Cass knew Jason would forever rename her that.

“Done! Now let's get back to the table, I’m starved, and my food is getting cold” Jason announced leading the trio back out to the food.

They all resettled down, Cass and “’Pixie’” looked at what Jason had created. Chocolate spread covered apples, bread sticks and rice cakes were on the plate. Small chunks of cheese and some grapes were there too. Not huge amounts but enough to ward off hunger for at least what remained of the night and not cause nausea. Probably more than enough to keep hunger gone for a long while if it was anything like his time on the streets.

“’Pixie’” picked up an apple licked at the chocolate spread. The sounds of joy escaped her as she wiggled in her seat and started wiping the chocolate off to eat more avoiding the apple.

"Remember the deal Pixie, all of it or no more chocolate"

The girl pouted but put the apple in her mouth with a mock glare at Jason. Even eating the apple caused her to hum in apparent happiness.

Cass smiled at Jason. “Thank you” before tucking into the feast they had in front of them. It might not meet Alfred’s approval, but her daughter was eating, though how to get the girl to eat without chocolate may be a challenge. At least she is eating though. That's a future problem to worry about at a later point, main thing was she was eating and clean. Not a very Batman approved approach with all his planning, but this involved a child. Children didn’t follow the plans especially semi feral ones, so a more flexible approach made sense to Cass. Cass was sure Alfred would approve.

Now that they all were eating and with Jason repeatedly calling her daughter Pixie it brought up the name issue. It was next on her mental list of things to do.

1) bathe daughter

2) dress cuts and bruises

3) feed daughter (in progress)

4) name daughter

5) put daughter to bed

6) get clothes for daughter

7) investigate daughters' markings

8) investigate sign language lessons (which language to be decided)

Pixie would not do as a name. Her daughter though not hating it did not like the name, she held the name in distaste based on some of her micro behaviour but not wanting to upset due to the chocolate promise.

Knocking on the table to get the others attention ‘Do you have a name?’ “Your name?” Cass queried looking at her girl. “Yeah, Pixie, do you have another name that you go by?” Jason joined in asking. The girl paused in her eating of her chocolate-based meal and look at the pair. She held a thinking face as if pondering the question, weighing up the responses she could provide. After a few moments she shook her head. A quick look passed between the adults at the table, understanding that behaviour it was clear she did have a name but was unwilling to share it. Whether it was due to distrust of them, or dislike of the name was unclear.

“Do ya want us to give you a new name then Pixie?” Jason tentatively probed. "'Pixie'" pointed at Cass and nodded, she did not trust Jason’s naming skills. Jason huffed and rolled his eyes, “Over to you now Cass”

Cass hummed in response. Thinking back to what the other street kids called her, “Dolly” and “Marionette”. She didn’t come across as a puppet to Cass. Though she seemed to be inclined to follow adults' lead, her daughter held a fire within her, she seemed to gauge the threat around her and chose the best course of action for her survival. That to Cass screamed someone who wasn’t a puppet.

Dolly as a name could closely linked with so many rogues in Gotham so wouldn’t do. Marionette, hmmm, Marinette maybe, Marie... Cass quite liked that, close to what she had been before with the kids so would most likely to respond but not too close to bring up trauma.

‘Do you like Marie?’ “Marie?” she asked her daughter. A sharp contemplative look was her response. She let the girl read her knowing she was searching for something, an answer to an impossible question. Both Cass and Jason observed her trying to figure out what she was looking for unsuccessfully. When she had reached her conclusion, she pointed to herself and whispered “Marie”.

Notes: according to internet search Marie can mean: wished for child, rebellion, mistress/lady of the sea, sea of bitterness/sorrow, which kinda fits I think (except for the current aversion of water)

[next]

Tag List:

@boldlyanxious @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @too0bsessedformyowngood @lady-bee-fechin

#maribat #maribat au #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x ml #dc x mlb #marinette x cass #marinette x jason #platonic #found family #claiming ones own

194 notes · View notes

turtletoria · 1 year

Photo

woe stomach pain be upon ye

#turtlearts #wordgirl #wg #dr two brains #he has tummy problems. if anyone cares #hes not lactose intolerant either. hes everything intolerant.#when u eat milk and dont get sick because u got lucky but then the next time u eat dairy u feel like ur insides r trying to escape ur outsid #but then also u cant tell if it was the milk or cheese that did it or if it was literlaly anything else u ate that day #and every day is just dealing with pain. like not enough to incapacitate but enough that u want to sleep all day

346 notes · View notes

kob131 · 3 years

Text

Morgan Le Fay (Alter Ego) My Room Lines

Morgause

“Master~ Can we stay here please? A moment’s rest may bring you far after all!”

“Ah, you really like to work don’t you? No no, I’m not accusing you of anything. I know your drive after all...”

“No matter what, it doesn’t seem I’ll get use to fighting. I wonder if either of those two would-ah. nevermind!”

Bond 1 “...Oh, sorry Master! I was spacing out there for a moment. I’m...not really use to being...heh, nevermind me!”

Bond 2 “Your magecraft seems a little shaky lately. Are you sure you’re feeling well? You eating well? Maybe a nice plate of meat and potatoes will make you feel better? ...Wh-what do you mean that’s too heavy?!”

Bond 3 “How strange. I’m still here. Usually I can’t remember where I’ve been or how I got where I am because...because...

...Well anyway, I can’t say it’s bad after all. I’d certainly be worried if one moment I was here with you and the next you left my sight. That-that can get rather scary...”

Bond 4 “... ... ... I can still feel them inside me, you know? ‘The Lady of The Lake’ and ‘The Fairy Witch’. My...other selves.

... Why? Why? WHY? Why do they have to exist? Why are they inside me? It’s not fair! I lost so much to them! So much of my life- Take, STOLEN from me by them! And even worst, they took my home away! I’m Morgause Pendragon, the daughter of Uther Pendragon! I am human! Not a fae! Not a witch! I. Am. HUMAN, ME!

So why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

Bond 5 “... I won’t be here for long. Even if this body were to see the end of your journey, I-I might not be the one in it. I was the first to fade away after all. It’s simply my fate...to be used and discarded by everything I love.

...Even so, I won’t run. As weak as I maybe in comparison to them...I won’t surrender a second of my time with you. With anyone. I’m here now. I am me.”

To Gawain “My son...my darling son. P-please don’t turn away! Please. I-I lost so much time with you. I can’t-I have to. Please, come embrace your mother. Before I’m gone.”

To Gareth “Gareth...my little pup. Look at you, you’ve grown up so much. I bet you had the lords at your beck and call. ... I wish I could have been there for you.”

To Agravain “Oh Agravain. It hurts to see you look at me so. And yet, it’s all my fault. If only I were stronger, if only I could overcome them. My little knight...I’m sorry.”

To Arturia “Arthur-no, Arturia isn’t it? To think I felt so bitter about what our father wanted...when there was so much to lose to that envy. I...I shall take my leave.”

To Mordred “Master, that knight over there?? That...wouldn’t happen to be Sir Mordred correct? ... Yes I assumed so, given her glares at me. Le Fay’s child with my own brother...There’s nothing I can do to help her, is there?”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “You there, the witch. You have quite the nerve to show your face here. You, who abandoned her humanity for the sake of a kingdom. Your kingdom was a shame and deserved it’s fate. Glare at me all you wish, without the three of us you would be nothing.”

Likes “What do I like? Well, I always liked cooking. It was always such a treat to see my children’s faces light up when I cooked with all my heart!”

Dislikes “...Lake fae and evil witches.”

Holy Grail “Even if it is a heresy, I would like to wish upon it. Then maybe, I can finally be free.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vivian

“Master, come. We have much to do still. ...I know you must be tired, I understand your weariness. But still, we must persist.”

“There’s no need to worry about me. An adventure like this-it is a simple matter. Compared to guiding those troublesome fae...”

“Quiet, quiet, quiet. ...Sorry Master, I was...having some difficulties with...the others. Le Fay especially...”

Bond 1 “So, you have stayed by my side? How strange, most humans simply leave the lakeside after so long.”

Bond 2 “Your heart is weary. There is no point in lying. I know that feeling well myself. Perhaps I have been pushing you too hard. Come, rest. All need reprieve after all.”

Bond 3 “It seems my time has not come yet. Good. I cannot-I will not fade like before. I refuse to let things end like before.”

Bond 4 “It is so tiring. To have their thoughts, their minds inside me. Always, always a reminder. That I am more than the fae ‘Vivian’. The human princess and the raging witch-

...No. No. NO! I am here now! I will be the one to fight! I will be the one to guard the Human Order! I will be the one protect the Age of Man that Father wished for! Not the human Morgause! Not the witch Le Fay!

I am Me, Vivian, The Lady of the Lake!”

Bond 5 “Even though I am the fae Vivian, an existence incompatible with mankind. It was always the humans I loved most of all. The fae, so fickle and cruel. I guided and guarded them out of duty alone.

Why you may ask? Because it was mankind that my father Uther loved. He protected them to his last breath. And so shall I. Even if I may never see the Age of Man, I will protect and guide it. Especially you, my Master. I shall ensure your safety to death and beyond.”

To Lancelot (Berserker) “Master! Th-that figure cloaked in black! I-it can’t be! My son! This is what became of you? ... Who did this?”

To Lancelot (Saber) “I knew it. Of course my son would be here. There was no chance he wouldn’t answer the call to protect mankind. He grew into a splendid knight after all.”

To Mash “This feeling... You there, young lady with the shield. Come forward, let me take a good look. ...It really is, isn’t it? Don’t be scared young lady. I shall never hurt you. Now, come with me. I have much to discuss with you.”

To Fae Servants “*Sigh* It seems there are some troublemakers in this place isn’t there? Worry not Master, I know how to keep them on a tight leash.”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ruler of the fae, huh? How pathetic. To have resorted to such evil. I do not care what your excuses are. I lead and guarded the fae myself. I sacrificed my place in the world. I expect no less of you.”

To Arturia (Archer) “How cute, thinking that little spruit is alike to my magic. Here, let me show you what a true Excalibur Vivian can accomplish.”

Likes “Besides mankind? ...I do enjoy watching the forest creatures prance about. The little bugs especially.”

Dislike “Lazy princesses and malevolent witches. That is all I’ll say.”

Holy Grail “It is a false wish granting device isn’t it? Still, if supplied with enough mana, it might just be enough to grant my wish To gain my freedom.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morgan Le Fay

“Careful now, Master. One wrong step and things will certainly go wrong. I know how much fun it is to lose yourself in the throes of battle. Hehehe...But your goal must come first.”

“That fire...that determination. Very well, I’ll join you in the fray. After all, I haven’t nearly indulged enough myself.”

“Your magecraft is rather lackluster isn’t it? Hm, whatever you call your ‘talents’, that doesn’t matter. Practice, practice, practice. Experience breeds excellence. I didn’t match Merlin with pure talent after all.”

Bond 1 “I must say, staying this way at will without being subject to the fickle whims fate...it’s rather nice. Thanks Master.”

Bond 2 “Fate is cruel. I know your pain better than most. Forced into the impossible by the will of others. But don’t let your heart waver. Through will and guile, you will gain your freedom.”

Bond 3 “Don’t hesitate to give me tasks. I find myself with more time than i know what to do with. Preferably with you around...”

Bond 4 “I’m sure you’ve heard about this before but...My other selves are still here. Deep inside, I can still here them. Their woes, their uncertainty, their hatred. All mine...

...Bwahaha! What a joke! As if I would let them trend upon me. It was my loathing that struck fear into Camelot. It was my malice that twisted the Green Knight. It was my love for Britian that allowed me to stomach sharing a bed with that liar. I am no feeble princess or passive fae. I am me, Morgan, the witch that loved Britian!”

Bond 5 “So here we stand still. I’m sure you caught on but I hate the Age of Man. Tearing away all the work I put out, fading everything I’ve done into legend. Acting as though I was never here. For it’s sins, I will always spur it.

So why am I here? Because I would rather have an Age of Man with Britian than not. Be it the destruction of history or man, I will not stand for it. I will rage and hate and burn until all is done. So long as we stand on the same ground, I will be here. I can’t trust the other two to get the job done after all.”

To Mordred “Hm, that defect of a homonculus is here? Master, you are best off sending it away. It’s incapable of following orders or performing tasks sufficiently. I would love to fix it but that’s beyond my reach.”

To Arturia (Alter) “Tch, that liar dares to attach my name to something so weak. She preaches that the strong rule over the weak, shall I teach her who is truly strong then? Gwahaha!”

To Merlin “Ah, Teacher is here too. How unusual, that fickle asshole couldn’t be asked to cut a blade of grass, let alone save humanity. He’s not even really here is he?”

To Fairy Knight Tristan “Master, this annoying brat won’t leave me alone. Acting all familiar and friendly with me... Maybe I’ll teach her what it means to truly be sadistic. Perhaps by rending her limbs asunder...”

To Arturia “So the King of Liars has come as well. Maybe a trip into Hell will teach her the place where she belongs...but that will have to wait, won’t it? She still has her uses after all...”

To Oberon-Vortigern “That mana. Another embodiment of Britian is here?! It feels like that failure Vortigern...yet...it’s so different. I must dissect him, to know!”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ah yes, that other me. Heh, what a fool she turned out to be, no? She rages against man, fae and knights, wasting all her efforts in the process. Focus, my dear. Focus is the key to victory. I did not waste my time with man or fae, I put my all into the slaying of Arturia. And which of us succeeded, hm?”

Likes “A rough night with a man below me, of course.”

Dislikes “My other selves. Unlike them, I will not hide the truth.”

Holy Grail “Hm, I have no need for such a thing. Unlike them, I will not cling to a false hope. It will be my hand that cuts them out like the parasites they are.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bond 10 CE: I Am...?

One minute *I’m* home with my children One minute ^I’m^ guarding those troublesome fae One minute -I’m- cackling as I tear into his flesh

The next I’m not.

It is my duty to *lead*/^guard^/-destroy- my kin No, That is *my*/^my^/-my- duty. No, it’s *mine*/^mine^/-mine-!

...Is it?

No, I am a *princess*/^guardian^/-witch-! That is not what *I*/^I^/-I- am! Stop it! This is who *I*/^I^/-I- am!

I am *me*/^me^/-me-! I am *Me*/^Me^/-Me-! I AM *ME*/^ME^/-ME-!

I am... I...am... I...

....Who am I?

#fate series #fate grand order

21 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

tapestry 👑 IX

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader is attended to.

Note: Got this done before work yesterday. It was a rough day though and I have some family stuff today so I’m not sure when I can work on more but I’ve been doing okay so far.

I’d like to thank everyone for reading and their support. I am truly astound and humbled by the response to this because it was very much unexpected. Thank you.

(also open to new moodboards for the fic or even playlists for inspo if anyone’s interested.)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋 You guys rock!

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

You barely recalled the ride back to the castle. Lord Barnes reined in your former steed as he led you along the path. His horse was much calmer and followed along diligently ahead of the party. He swiftly dismounted and helped you down from the saddle as the stable hands rushed to take the mounts from him. He barely acknowledged him as you wobbled on your feet.

Another rush of snorting and hooves followed as the king jumped from his saddle onto the ground. He neared as Barnes took your good arm and led you to the door of the stable. The lords and ladies drew up just outside, the queen kept away from the rest. Steven strode at your other side as you were guided towards the castle.

“My lady,” He was hesitant to touch you as your arm hung from the socket. “The physician should await you.”

“Your highness, I shall see her to him,” Barnes assured. “But you should address your court before you retire. Conclude the hunt formally and then you may attend to the lady when she has been seen to.” He lowered his voice as he stopped and turned you so that he stood closer to the king. “You’ve brought enough scandal for the day. In your carelessness, you may just spoil your own plans.”

The king frowned and looked between Barnes and you.

“You cannot abandon your queen so blatantly. Not after your previous slight. Especially as she mopes so openly.”

“Queen,” Steven spat. “A title far too grand for the wench.”

“Enough,” Barnes warned. You’d never heard anyone speak to the king thus. “Not like this. Mind your court, your lords, your ladies, and when the time rises, they shall stand behind you, but should you abandon Eleanor as such, they shall do the same to you.” You leaned against his arm and moaned in pain. “Patience and she will see to her own fate. Now please, the lady is about to faint.”

“Ever prudent, Buck,” The king addressed his friend by his pet name. “Away with her. See her well and send to me when she is fit for visitation.”

“I shall,” Barnes bowed his head. “Your highness.”

“My friend,” Steven clapped Barnes’ shoulder. “Thank you.”

The king bowed to you and for a moment, he stopped to admire you. In your agonized haze, you wondered if it was all in your head. A symptom of your injury. He smiled and turned to march back down the trail to his royal party as they gathered before the stable.

“What did you mean?” You asked as Barnes turned you back towards the castle. “See to her own fate?”

“You needn’t worry yourself, my lady,” He assured you. “You know how perilous this court can be. None of us are beyond its grasp...not even our queen.”

“Wait?” You tried to pull him to a halt but he easily brushed you onward. “Do you conspire against the queen?”

“I do not,” He said firmly. “Though there is conspiracy at play.”

“Lord Barnes, you evade me--”

“I daresay, at this moment, you have greater worries than courtly woes.” He remanded. “Now do try to lift your feet. I have no great desire to carry you through the corridors.”

You did your best to walk upon your own feet. Your ankle was tender but not unbearably so. Barnes slowed when he found himself dragging you though the stairs were terribly steep and winding. The corridors were cold and grim as he led you along. Your boots slipped along the stone as you winced at every jostle of your arm.

You recognized the doors before you. As he opened them and angled you through, footsteps echoed around the next corner. He looked up and nodded to the nearing shadows before he slipped through into your receiving chambers. As Barnes sat you upon one of the carved chairs around the painted table, he turned back to greet Callum and the squat physician.

“Is this the injured lady?” The man asked as he held a chest bound by leather straps.

“She is,” Barnes backed away from you and crossed his arms. “It’s her shoulder. Look how her arm hangs.”

“Ah yes, it is very concerning,” He eyed your left arm as you leaned heavily in the chair. “I should need to see beneath her cloak. Perhaps, remove her sleeves and perhaps the bodice. Might you help move her to her private chamber so that I may examine her properly and decently?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Barnes and Callum came up beside the chair and pulled you back to your feet. You were weak as they guided you to the door of your chamber. Only Barnes passed the threshold to help you to the edge of the bed. He retreated as the physician came up beside him and nodded for him to proceed. He sent you one last look before he retreated and closed the door staunchly behind him.

“My lady, I need to remove your cloak. May I?” The physician was nervous in his demeanour.

You nodded and his hand proved more sure than his tone. He swiftly unbuckled your cape and let it fall from your shoulders. He gently touched your shoulder and you winced with a grunt. He squeezed for only a moment and the pain grew unbearable. He hummed and rescinded his touch. He pulled his trunk close and undid the straps.

“It will be a momentary pain, my lady,” He warned as he stirred around. “But it will relent most quickly once we are through.”

👑

Marge arrived shortly after to attend to you as the physician slung your arm in cotton. The fabric held it at an angle against your stomach and kept you from pulling on the tender joint. Your servant helped adjust your gown and fixed the loose laces. Your skirts were trimmed still in mud and your face was scratched along your cheeks and chin. She tidied your hair and replaced the hood over your head.

After the physicians departure, you remained in your chamber as you tried to collect yourself. As you reflected on the incident, you realized how much worse it could have turned out. You were thankful for only a torn shoulder and a sore ankle. And, you hoped, the injury would allow you a respite from the courtly drama.

“My lady, shall I send the lord away now?” Marge asked.

“Lord Barnes?” You asked as you stood straight from staring at the mirror.

“He awaits without still,” She assured you.

“I can inform him myself, Marge,” You said as you turned. “If you would get the door for me.”

She nodded and opened the door diligently. She waited for you to pass through before she followed. Lord Barnes stood at the fireplace, his dark head tilted up as he gazed at the portrait of the king. He did not turn as he heard your entrance.

“Oh, I love him but he is the most vain man I’ve ever known,” He chuckled. “A kingly sort of avarice.”

“Lord Barnes, you must’ve seen the physician go,” You began. “And it is not proper that I receive you without a proper chaperone.”

“The maid is here,” He turned at last. “Marge, was it?” He asked and the servant nodded with a grin. “She seems the proper type.”

“Even so, my lord, I am tired and in much pain, I should prefer my solitary.”

“There is no such thing at court,” He insisted. “So...the shoulder,” He looked to your arm, “It is fixed?”

“It is fragile yet but healed, so the physician said,” You replied.

“You did put up quite the fight, my lady,” He mused, “I should think I would have let myself be tossed at the first buck but you did persist.”

“It was fear only and stupidity,” You assured him. “Do you mind if I sit, my lord?”

“Please,” He strode across the floor as he admired the tapestries hung over the stone. “You should gather your strength for you will--”

He did not finish his thought as a knock sounded at the door. Before Marge could reach it, the handle clicked and it swung inward. The king entered without invitation and stopped short as you lowered yourself into a cushioned chair. You made to rise and he waved you down with his hand.

“My lady, please, do not trouble yourself,” He crossed to you and knelt beside your chair. “I’ve only come to see that you are well. I spoke with my physician, he says you should recover quickly.”

“I should hope,” You sat back weakly. “The pain has relented.”

“You’ve suffered worse in a joust, your highness,” Barnes intoned from behind. The king looked to him in surprise.

“Bucky, I didn’t know you remained.”

“I said I would see to her,” He said plainly. “She is strong but she will need time for her healing.”

“No, no, it is most convenient. In my impatience, I did leave Hugh behind and he was to be our chaperone.”

Barnes nodded and turned back to the tapestry. “Then I shall linger over here,” He said. “And continue to envy how my own chambers pale in comparison.”

The king turned his attention back to you and took your uninjured hand. Marge softly closed the door and resumed her vigil along the wall. Steve frowned at your slinged arm.

“I was most concerned, I could think of nothing else. But an hour has passed between us and I feel it has been an eternity,” He declared and kissed the back of your hand. Barnes’ boot scuffed the floor as he shifted his weight. “I thought of the most dire results, of how fickle this life is to all of us.”

“Your highness, I am mostly unscathed and shall return to health in due time.” You assured him.

“Oh, but I did think of what should’ve happened were it worse. The thought of losing you, of a life without you, and it did frighten me wholly. And I was as startled to realize how deeply I feel for you, my lady. Of how entirely you’ve taken me.” He squeezed your hand as he looked up at you with sparkling eyes. “Can you not see how I love you?”

“Love?” You gasped before you could stop yourself. “Your highness, that is a potent word. Dangerous, even.”

“Oh but it is true,” He said. “I’ve never felt as I do now and I would not deny it. Cannot deny it.”

“The queen--”

“The queen!” He decried as he let go and tossed his hands up. “Oh, how you do go on!”

He stood as Barnes peeked over his shoulder. The lord quickly averted his attention back to the woven cloth.

“Did I not think upon her too in my despair. Of her neglect, of her distaste for me, and her false title.” He paced the floor as he spoke. “I think of it often. Of how I’ve betrayed my own people, lied to them, and now because of it I am deprived of what I yearn for most.”

“What is it you insinuate?” You wondered. You clung to your skirt tightly as a weight settled in your chest. “You cannot mean such accusations.”

“Oh, but they are more than that. The queen knows it and she means to hide the truth.” He bemoaned. “At my expense and yours.”

“Your highness--”

“I cannot say as yet, but I am not mad, my lady,” He insisted. “I see the queen’s hand in all that has befallen you. All the misery which has ensnared me. I know she plots and yet...we must wait.”

“Plot?” You looked to Barnes as his shoulders stiffened. He couldn’t hide his discomfort. “My king, do you not plot, too? In your pursuit of me? In your public declarations which do reflect so disgracefully upon us both?”

“I do not plot, I only seek the truth,” He strode towards you once more. He stood before you with his hand on his chest. “Oh, my lady, but I shall reveal to you a secret I’ve harboured, the only I dare confess. The intentions I have concealed but to protect your propriety and my own.”

“What secret do you speak of, your majesty?” You breathed.

“Why, I do mean to marry you, my lady,” He smiled. “And I did not dare to speak of my intentions before I could bring them to fruition. For I could fail against the queen’s machinations and I did not mean to scare you.”

“Marry? Marry?” You repeated in disbelief. “Oh, but your highness, it cannot be. Your union--”

“My union is illegitimate and I shall prove it to be.” He interrupted. “I reflected upon your words, upon my own errors, and I should like to be redeemed. To atone for my sins. I would not have you be just another lady.” He got to his knees again and clasped his hands together. “I would have you as my wife and nothing less.”

Barnes slowly turned around. You blinked at the king then glanced to the other lord. Your own confusion was plain upon his face. “Any betrothal initiated during another union would be declared illegitimate in kind.” You protested.

“I do not propose to you, my lady, no, not yet,” He assured you. “I only mean to have my intentions known.”

“Your highness, we should not speak of these things.” You pleaded. “I still serve the queen. I am bound to her as you are and we cannot--”

He grabbed the arm of the chair and raised himself. He leaned over you so suddenly you could not react. He pressed his lips to yours so harshly that you could not turn away. He kissed you until you thought you would suffocate. He pulled away sharply, shoved himself to his feet and turned his back to you.

“Forgive me, my lady,” He said softly and reached to touch his lips. “I...have waited so long and the thought of waiting longer does make me impulsive.”

Barnes watched his king a moment before he lowered his eyes to the floor. It was hard to read his thoughts as his eyes harboured a flurry of unspoken words. You trembled as the king trod across the carpet and shook his head at himself.

“I have told you, my lady, that I shall give you whatever you wish.” He spun back to you again. “And you wish me to wait, so I shall wait but I will not wait for anything but your hand. For you entirely.”

You pressed yourself against the chair. You tried to smile through your horror. You felt the eyes of the servant and the silent lord. You shakily touched your chest as you looked up at the king.

“I vow to you that we will be together.” He promised. “We must only bide ourselves a little longer.”

"We should not speak of it. Even here. Even alone." You played with the edge of the sling. "We should ready for the feast."

"Why lady, I've had the feast delayed until the morrow. I should allow you some time to acquiesce and see that you've enough strength for it." He explained. "You are the Maiden of the Forest and it will be upon you to wear the title with grace."

"You needn't have," You said. "You’ve doted on me far too much. Do you think the court does not notice? That they will not ponder on the king's visit to my chambers?"

"Damn the people," He snarled. "They will not keep me from you. And when they see the queen for the fraudulent shrew she is, they will have the sense to accept you."

"And Lady Rose?"

"I've told you I will see that she is dealt with," He huffed. "There is nothing that can stand between us, my lady, you must see that?" His face fell. "Or do you not feel as I do?"

You blanched. You'd evaded the question before, so not to rile the king or overtly disobey your father. But you knew that neither Marge nor Lord Barnes could save you.

"Oh, but your highness, how suddenly it has all happened that I haven't even a moment to know what I feel." You countered. "And how can I let myself feel but humbly towards a man already entwined?"

The king's golden lashes lowered and a pained grimace strained his features. He nodded and slowly raised his head.

"And so I shall do away with that which keeps apart so that you may feel as you wish. So that there is nothing to keep your heart at bay." He bent his head to you. "And so we shall let you rest for the night and see you well upon the morrow."

"Your highness," You tried to rise and he gestured you to stay.

"My lady, you mustn't. Do not exert yourself thus." He advised and turned sharply on his heel. "Lord Barnes." He signaled his companion. "We've much to do."

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #medieval au #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

986 notes · View notes

drpeppertummy · 10 months

Text

woe tiny little story be upon ye. return of sunny & laurie following a tummy prompt activity with a friend

[unwilling stuffing, tummyache]

"Don't look at me like that. The deal was, if you fuck it up, you have to eat it."

Still, Sunny stared up at Laurie with big sad eyes, but she turned away, leaving him with his cayenne-laden mistake. His eyes slowly fell to the lasagna. Even if it tasted fine, it was still a full-size dish. He felt full already just looking at it. His stomach, not yet up to date on his perilous situation, growled loudly.

"Sounds like you're hungry," said Laurie, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Better get started. It's probably going to take a while."

"You suck," grumbled Sunny.

"Hey, you agreed to it. Not my fault you were messing around."

"I was not messing around! You were getting in the way!"

"I was not!"

"Yes you were!"

"Sunny, would you shut up and eat your lasagna?"

Sunny glared at her and picked up his fork. Stubborn as he was, he was a man of his word. Sighing, he stuck his fork into the dish and dug out a bite. The lasagna's one saving grace was that, aside from accidentally dumping a ton of cayenne into it, Sunny was a good cook. He was relieved to find, taking his first bite, that the heat wasn't unbearable, at least for now. It was still far hotter than it had any business being, however, and definitely not suitable for the party he and Laurie had been cooking for. The replacement was in the oven now, and it pained him to think that he'd be too full to have any by the time it was done.

He continued working on the lasagna while Laurie cleaned up, unsure whether he should pace himself or try to wolf it all down before the fullness set in. He decided to just eat and not think about it, just like he was trying not to think about the heat building on his tongue. He was, however, already finishing up what would have been the equivalent of a second piece, if he had been cutting them and not just eating straight out of the dish, and the growing fullness in his stomach would soon be impossible to ignore. Sunny was notorious for biting off more than he could chew--literally as often as figuratively--and he knew as well as anyone that the capacity of his stomach was underwhelming. He was already past where he would normally quit, and he still had a long way to go.

As Sunny paused between bites, a sharp hiccup shook his body. Laurie turned to look at him, surprised, and was unable to hold back a fit of laughter. Sunny shot her an angry look.

"I'm sorry," Laurie giggled, snorting. Sunny made a face at her and turned miserably back to his lasagna. He was almost a third of the way through it now and well beyond full. He hiccuped again. The harsh contraction of his stomach was not a welcome feeling. He groaned quietly and held his free hand against his belly, which was much rounder and firmer than it had been when he started. With a sigh, he stuck his fork back into the dish and kept going.

The overwhelming fullness had become impossible to ignore, and each bite pushed Sunny further into the realm of discomfort. He would have sworn he could feel his stomach stretching as he forced down the equivalent of a sixth serving. His belly felt unbelievably tight, and was sticking out far over his belt. Another hiccup jostled his stomach, dislodging a weak burp. It didn't provide much relief. He paused for a moment, leaning back in the chair, breathing slowly. He hiccuped. There was still a third of the lasagna left.

Cautiously rubbing his belly, Sunny leaned back toward the lasagna. He picked up another bite and carried on, more slowly than ever. Making himself chew and swallow was becoming increasingly difficult. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. His stomach was tight as a drum, stuffed nearly to bursting with heavy, cheesy pasta. Finally, as he raised the fork again to his mouth, he found himself unable to open up. He dropped it back into the dish and slumped back in his seat, holding his aching belly with both hands.

"I can't do it," he moaned, sounding utterly defeated and a little ashamed. Laurie turned to face him again, surprised at how far he'd gotten. Even in her frustration at having to start the lasagna over from scratch, she hadn't expected him to actually try and eat the whole thing. Only about a quarter of it remained, and the uncomfortable bulge of his bloated stomach was clear evidence that he hadn't just thrown the rest under the table.

"Jeez, Sunny," said Laurie, walking over to him. He thought he heard a twinge of guilt in her voice. The anger between the two of them had faded, and Laurie could barely remember what they'd even been arguing about while they were cooking that got things so heated. Sunny looked up at her, trying to look annoyed but instead just looking sad and exhausted. She sat down in the chair beside him and cautiously reached towards him, half expecting him to protest, but he neither moved nor argued as she placed her hand gently on his belly.

"I didn't think you were going to get that far," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Sunny."

"I'm sorry too," he mumbled, eyes darting away from her. It wasn't something he said often, and Laurie was surprised to hear it. "Let's pair up with different people next time, alright?"

"Or we could just keep our tempers under control," suggested Laurie, rubbing his belly a little. Sunny returned his gaze to her, staring without a word. "Hm, no, you're right. Different partners next time."

#writing #belly kink #tummy kink #stuffing #stuffed belly #xsunnyx #xlauriex

20 notes · View notes

pluto-art · 3 years

Text

Syncytium - Chapter 5

Title: Polarization Words: 11,170 (including author’s comments) Rating: T

Fan Fiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/5/Syncytium

Just as always, I highly recommend the FF.net version, as it includes all accentuated words. This has been my favorite chapter to write so far. Consider it a New Year’s Eve gift. Enjoy. :)

October 1st, 1993 - 7:10 PM

The wall to the cloaked laboratory slid open with a soft hiss as Brian T. Globetrotter quickly shuffled out of his private workshop and headed for the elevator. His ears perked a little as a distant sound caught his ear. It sounded like shuffling. Was that coming from the... trash cans? A yearning desire to investigate had to be cut short, however, as a small ding signaled the arrival of his ride. Not like he could wait another minute anyway. He stepped past the steel doors and poked intrusively at Floor One's button, doing his best not to break out in a desperate dance as his pained expression was shut to the basement.

In a back corner of the basement, a trash can wiggled about unsteadily... then went still. A second later and it jumped about again, rocking back and forth, as if someone were tickling its insides mercilessly. Then, with an echoing pop that reverberated off the walls, from its stomach burst forth a tall white mouse, his hair disheveled and his glasses askew as he shook himself, breathed out a welcome sigh of relief, and hopped out of the can before replacing its lid.

"Sorry, Mr. Trash Can. Zort! Thanks for all the help, though!" Pinky apologized, smiling as he refitted the can with its metallic "hat" and patted it kindly.

Even though no one could hear him, he took care to tip-toe as covertly as he could past where the secret laboratory lay, beyond the elevator, and up... up... up the stairs, only exiting onto the first floor landing once he heard the familiar ding of the elevator below, signaling Globetrotter's return to the basement. He smiled and blew out yet another grateful sigh. That was a close one. He'd almost gotten caught!

Down below, Globetrotter stepped out of the elevator, adjusting his pants a touch and facepalming. That one had been painful... He reminded himself that his next doctor appointment was the following Tuesday, and privately hoped that they'd have a better solution - stronger pills or something. This was getting ridiculous.

Pinky hadn't noticed that, in his haste to hide from Globetrotter's prying eyes, he'd dropped his #2 pencil on the ground at the lab's entrance. But Globetrotter noticed. He picked up the orange object and turned it about with bandaged fingers, a crease or two forming upon his thick brow. This wasn't his. #2 pencil? He'd never be that cheap. Someone had been here...

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 4th, 1993 - 4:14 PM

It was official: The Halloween party was happening at the end of the month - October 30th, a Saturday. Somehow, after four years of the school going without any employees-only holiday gatherings, Pinky had gotten it passed; or, rather, the principal had passed it. Even with him being one for the theatrics, many still couldn't understand why he had no aversion what-so-ever to such an event, especially considering that it was said principal whom had banned employees-only parties in the first place due to an unfortunate incident. Some were convinced that he had an ulterior motive, though what that might be no one could even begin to guess. And so a mystery it remained, although a good number of teachers were unabashedly excited for the party regardless. A few stragglers, such as Mr. Ages and Globetrotter, refused to attend, finding it a waste of time. Completely. Others, however, such as Mrs. Brisby, Dr. Dawson, and Bernard and Bianca had already picked out their costumes. Mr. Ages and Globetrotter rolled their eyes at this. It was generally agreed upon that the party was to be held at Flaversham's house, as he was one of the most handsomely paid and, as a result, owned the largest establishment. He was also incredibly humble about it and often welcomed visitors. The only rule for this autumn gathering was that no children were allowed, and so Olivia would have to room with Mrs. Brisby and her children for the night. Flaversham was agreeable to this. Olivia was not.

Pinky came across her that afternoon, sulking by his door at 4:14 PM. She had been noticeably absent to class, and as the lanky, spectacled mouse approached the young girl, he frowned at her in concern.

She didn't look at him as he knelt down to her level. The floor was, apparently, much more interesting.

"Olivia?" Pinky began, tilting his head a little, the better to look into those stubborn, glossy eyes. "Class wasn't the same without you."

She sniffed, the tears began to fall, yet still she said nothing.

"Olivia...?" he inquired again, reaching out a soft paw and delicately tucking a finger underneath her chin, the better, of course, to tilt her head towards him. He smiled at her, a kindly, encouraging smile. "I'm here."

And the dam burst.

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing vehemently, as only a child can when they've been denied something incredibly important to them. Pinky hugged her right back, patting her back gently.

"Naaaaarf," her teacher cooed in his unusual way, rubbing her head. "Ohhhhh. Tell me all about it, hm?"

"M-My daddy... says I can't go to the Halloween party!" Olivia managed to choke out. "We always do everything together... when I'm not at school! B-But he said that... I can't go because... this is a party only for the adults." At this, she had to pause, for another torrential downpour threatened to burst, making her breath hitch. She was shaking so much that she'd shook her little tam-o-shanter right off her head. "I promise I'll be good! I won't even drink the alkaseltzer!"

She said this all so seriously, and anyone else might have stifled a snort at such an overly-dramatic display, as well as her incorrect pronunciation of "alcohol", but Pinky was not like other adults. He took Olivia's woes as gravely as if he'd just been delivered the news himself. After all, if he was uninvited to one of the coolest parties of the year, especially one he was to be the host of, he'd be pretty bummed out, too.

"Oh, Olivia...," he whimpered along with her, pulling the young girl back from his shoulder so as to address her properly, and felt his heart practically break at the sight of her crimson eyes. "I'm sure your dad would normally love to have you stay! After all, it's not a real party without Olivia." And he winked at her. That turned her frown upside down, if only for half a second. "I'd be really sad to not be invited to a party, too, ya' know."

"R-Really...?" the distraught little student hiccuped, wiping her eyes.

"Of course! But... you know something else?"

"What?"

"I'll bet some of the other kids are sad that they won't get to go to the party with their parents either. Like... Timothy and Cynthia. They can't go either, can they?"

Olivia shook her head.

"And you're the oldest, right?"

Yes.

"You know what that means, don't you?"

No.

"That means that you're in charge of making your own party!"

"You mean... we can have our own private party without the adults?"

"As long as Mrs. Brisby says it's okay. I'll put in a good word for you," Pinky promised. "Oh, and just between us...," and at this, he leaned in towards Olivia, cupping a hand to his mouth. Olivia extended an ear in interest. "I'm rather jealous I won't be able to attend yours. I'm sure it'll be way cooler."

At this, Olivia beamed.

"It'll be the best party you'll have never been to!"

And she picked up her hat from off the floor and slapped it down resolutely upon her furry little head, the redness of her eyes the only trace that she'd ever been crying at all. She spread her arms wide before hugging Pinky tight around the middle, nuzzling into his chest... and letting a few stray tears leak out in the process.

"Thank you, Mr. Pinky...," she whispered under her breath, and Pinky couldn't help but smile as he embraced her in return.

"You're welcome, Miss Olivia," he replied right back, booping her nose and waving after her as she ran off and around a corner.

Olivia's chipper exit was replaced by a much stiffer entrance in the form of Globetrotter, who stared after Olivia in judgement as he straightened a small stack of papers clutched in his grasp. This didn't phase Pinky in the least.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brain!" he greeted him cheerfully, and for once, possibly the very first time for Pinky, Globetrotter actually smiled at him. Well, perhaps it was more of a smirk than a genuine grin, but Pinky accepted it either way. It was nice to see.

"Evening, my quixotic colleague," Globetrotter responded, his tone and inflection considerably more chipper than usual. "I take it you're excited for the festivities?"

"Ohhh, yes! Are you coming?" Pinky asked, as he stepped into his classroom. Globetrotter followed him to the door.

"I don't participate in such frivolities," said Globetrotter, hands tucked neatly behind his back and expression monotonous as he watched Pinky grab a tall ladder from the back of the classroom and position it underneath a dead light bulb. "You'll just have to survive without my presence."

Pinky tut tut tutted sadly as he picked out a fresh bulb from one of the desk drawers and made for the ladder.

"Not even for the punch, Brain?"

"It's Brian. Mr. Globetrotter, preferably. And, no, not even for what I'm sure will be... a delectable punch."

"Mmm. Shame," Pinky shrugged, as he popped the bulb in his mouth, clumsily climbed up the ladder, and carefully set down his bulb as he fixed to take out the old one. "I was rather looking forward to having you."

"You were?" Globetrotter asked, surprised. No one ever wanted him anywhere.

"Of course! Poit!" responded the other, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You were one of the first ones to welcome me when I came to the school, and you did so very well in my class!"

"That was... just a fluke," Globetrotter responded rather bashfully, averting his gaze a little.

"You're also the only other person who's still around at night when I go home late. It... makes me feel a little less lonely."

Globetrotter cocked an eyebrow at him curiously. He simply couldn't make heads or tails of this creature. Not only did he care about him for the stupidest, most meaningless reasons he could possibly concoct, he also saw him as an... equal. The very thought sent shivers up Globetrotter's spine. Never in his life would he put himself on the same pedestal as this nincompoop, not if he was paid to do it. Ronald Pinkus was beneath him in every way. And yet... there was something, dare he say it, wholesome about how he flat out refused to acknowledge any flaws in Brian what-so-ever, for flaws he had and plenty of them. This he knew, yet hated to admit. But he'd never met anyone who genuinely looked past them; who not only wasn't afraid to approach him, but sometimes purposely sought him out. It was... odd. Touching, but... odd.

He coughed uncomfortably.

"Yes, well... Maybe you should simply... retire earlier. There's more associates around before six o'clock."

"B-But I can't retire, Brain!" Pinky voiced worriedly, screwing in the new bulb, which popped a stale yellow as he wound it into place. "I just got here!"

"I meant rest. Perhaps you should go home earlier in the day, you... undeveloped fetus."

The insult flew right over Pinky's head to land somewhere in an empty corner, where no one else's ears could possibly pick it up. If anything, Pinky beamed at Globetrotter's response.

"Ohhhhhh! Well, that's different then, isn't it? But, oh, wait... No. No no, I couldn't possibly do that either. What about the students?"

"The students?"

"Yes, Brain! Don't your students ask to talk with you about their problems after class?" asked Pinky matter-of-factly, as he promptly descended the ladder, folded it up, and moved it back to its resting place. He hummed a very repetitive little tune as he did all this. Hm hm, hm hm, hm hmmmm. It was monotonous, yet curiously catchy, in a way.

"Noooooooo... Not usually. Sometimes they'll ask a question about a theory or mathematical equation, of course, but that's to be expected," he said, perhaps a bit haughtily as he checked over his fingernails. "I am not privy to the personal issues and well-being of my pupils. They keep to their business and I keep to mine. This is a school, not a therapist's office."

"It's not?"

Brain stared at him, giving him the most deadpan glare he could possibly muster.

"You are, without a doubt, the daftest individual I've ever met."

"Thank you, Brain," Pinky smiled, and he said it genuinely.

With a shake of the head, Brain stepped back out into the hallway, Pinky following.

"If you'll excuse me, I must return to my state of business," said he, and he began to walk away from room 210.

"Oh! Ummm... Brain?" Pinky asked, remaining by his door as he waved an eager hand towards his colleague.

Brain turned to look back at him, one eyebrow raised and hands once more tucked behind his back.

"Will you be eating dinner here at the school tonight?" he asked.

Globetrotter stared at him for a moment, nonplussed.

"Most likely. Why?"

"Would you like to join me in the cafeteria? I have something for yoouuuuu!"

Globetrotter considered this. Normally, his answer would be a firm and stalwart "NO", but perhaps it would work to his benefit. Being closer to Pinky would enable him to carry out his plan much faster and easier. The lanky teacher was such an unsuspecting ignoramus that he could probably finish the job Scott free, even in a public area. Heheh. Finish the job. Oh, it sounded so devious...

"Ccccertainly. Why not?" Globetrotter replied, smirking. "After all, you... have shown yourself to be a successful member of this institution. I suppose it's only fit to honor that with the occasional get-together."

"Oh, wonderful! Six o'clock then?" Pinky grinned, radiant as a firefly as he clapped his hands together rather childishly and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Yes. Six o'clock. Don't be late," Globetrotter warned, as he turned around to continue in his trek down the hall. He'd barely gotten another foot away from the excited Pinky, however, when he was called back once more.

"Oh! Brain?"

He looked back, a rather miffed expression pulling at his face. If that nitwit mispronounced his name one more time...

"Thank you," said Pinky in a soft voice as he hid his hands behind his back rather bashfully.

"Don't mention it," Globetrotter responded dryly. "It's just a lunch."

"No no. I mean... for the compliment. You really think I'm a success...?"

He said it so sincerely that Globetrotter almost felt sorry for him. Almost...

"Sure," lied his tongue. "You've certainly proved to be of... some worth."

In truth, it was only a partial fabrication. He had shown himself to be successful, if you considered babysitting a bunch of toddlers lucrative. In Globetrotter's eyes, the bumbling professor, if he was even laudable enough to be called that, was only popular from a superficial standpoint - he was likable, he was approachable, he was, as the girls disgustingly called him, "hot", and he was easy-going with children. In short, he was a celebrity, not a teacher. Whatever credentials he did obtain were worthless to someone of Globetrotter's stature; anyone who charmed their way into so highly prestigious of an establishment didn't deserve to hold a position there in the first place. He was enough of a threat to consider ousting due to his fame as a personality, but from an educational angle he posed no competition; at least, not in Globetrotter's eyes. And so he threw him a bone, more as a cover-up than anything, but he didn't expect him to take it so... consolingly. It made him a little uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Pinky said again, beaming. "You've... been the only one to tell me that. Well, at least here anyway. Eheh. Poit..."

Globetrotter frowned at the verbal tick. Few questioned it, aside from the occasional student who ventured to ask what "zort" or "narf" meant. Globetrotter simply took it as a medical condition and left it at that. He'd rather assume as such than entertain the thought that that sorry excuse of a teacher actually enjoyed spewing such nonsense, but, then again, he wouldn't be surprised.

He also frowned at the admittance, somewhat in surprise. Had none of the other teachers thrown him a kind word? Surely they must have. He knew they had, in fact, for he'd overheard their compliments, both in Pinky's presence and not. Most liked him, and those who didn't simply felt sorry for him. At least they'd had some sense to not outright call him a success, because he certainly was not that when it came to earning a place as a professional in the university.

"Just keep doing what you're doing and I'm sure you'll be fine," he spat, perhaps a little too harshly. Pinky noticed not. "You've undoubtedly shown yourself to be popular."

"Oh, not as popular as you, Brain! I'm sure you're still one of the best teachers in the whole school!"

At this, Globetrotter smiled.

"To that I flagrantly concur, my good fellow. To that, I flagrantly concur," grinned the science professor, and he said it so deviously that, if he'd uttered it to any other teacher, they would have flogged him where he stood.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

4:47 PM

Globetrotter clicked on the little green banker's desk lamp that sat on his table. It cast a dim, yellow glow across the mahogany surface, illuminating papers, calculators, a coffee mug, and a gel pen - an expensive one. Rolling in the combination to the lock on his briefcase, he pushed in on the lock buttons, to which the case satisfyingly clicked open. Out of it he pulled: a pair of gloves, some odd-looking tools, a computer chip, a bottle of Aspirin, and a very small, round device that appeared to be magnetic in construction. Indeed, from an outsider's perspective, it looked to be nothing more than one of those tiny black magnets that one stuck to their fridge to pin up such things as receipts and shopping lists. Quite unassuming.

The middle-aged mouse laid out the chip, magnet, and tools, pulled on his gloves with a sharp snap, and got to work. For twenty minutes he tinkered with the device. It was delicate work, requiring much precision, but he reveled in it. Occasionally, his ponderings wandered to, of all things, Ronald Pinkus - how quixotic he was; how precariously he'd climbed up that rickety ladder. Shame he didn't break his neck, Globetrotter thought. Would have made my job much easier...

At 5:10 PM, he stood up from his chair, learned towards his desk lamp, and, with the little magnet pinched between his fingers, held it up to the lamp.

Snap.

It attached to the lamp's outer surface as if it was made to rest there. Globetrotter smirked. Pulling off the magnet, he opened up a side drawer and tested it out on a steel tape dispenser. It worked there, too. The magnet hugged it tightly. Globetrotter pulled it off, nodded satisfactorily, and pocketed it. Of course, this was only half of the test. It would only prove itself after applied.

"Oh, you beautiful little Polarizer," he mumbled fondly, actually kissing the device as he held it securely between his fingers. "Make me proud!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

6:05 PM

He was late. Of course he was late.

Globetrotter tapped his fingers on a cafeteria table impatiently, checking his watch every now and then, even though there was a clock literally right above him, attached to a pole near the entrance of the meeting area. If there was anything that boiled his bottles more than almost anything else, it was tardiness. There was no excuse for irresponsibility.

The cafeteria was completely devoid of life, save for a few straggling servers behind the counter, the janitors, Jak and Gus, and Globetrotter himself. One thing rather noteworthy, if not a tad bit odd, about Acme School of Arts and Sciences was that all classes generally ended at 5:00 PM. The founder of the university had been strict about the doors closing early so as both school personnel and students had ample time to spend in the evenings with their family and friends, as well as have extra time to commit to homework. It was a rule that was still upheld to this day. Some professors, of course, still stayed past "curfew", mostly to attend to extra duties and grading during the quiet evenings, and even then none of them, save for Globetrotter, and now Pinky, ever lingered past 6:00 PM. The one exception was the theater kids - their rehearsals sometimes went until 7:00 or even 8:00 PM. It was the only reason the cafeteria stayed open until 7:00, and even then it was rare to find anyone at a table this late.

Globetrotter welcomed the silence, of course. It was a time for pondering; a time for planning. But he had no patience for late-comers.

He had half a mind to just get up and leave right then and there when in swooped the Trozologist, waving as he headed in a rush towards his cafe buddy.

"Phew! So sorry I'm late, Brain!" he sighed, flopping down into a chair, a bit too close for Globetrotter's liking. He scooted to the side a few paces. "Mrs. Brisby and I got to talking about cooking and, well, the time just ran away with me! Ha-ha! Zort!"

"Yes... I'm sure it did," Globetrotter groaned, not at all amused. "Are you going to refresh yourself?" he asked. He was already on his third cup of coffee and about to get primed for a fourth.

Pinky looked around at this, concerned, before focusing his attention back on Globetrotter.

"Um... In public, Brain?"

Globetrotter's response was a deep, planted facepalm. What an absolute boob.

"The drinks, you ignoramus. The drinks! Are you doing to get a drink?!"

"Pfff. Well, why didn't you say so, Brain?" Pinky chuckled, rolling his eyes and standing right back up again. "Oh! I almost forgot. This is for you."

And he set down in front of Globetrotter a very pretty, very lovingly wrapped little present that, somehow, he hadn't noticed before. He stared at it rather worriedly, as if it might explode.

"Well, go ahead, silly!" Pinky encouraged him, nudging him forward with a nod of the head.

"Th-Thank you," Globetrotter said, not quite sure how to respond. He unwrapped it with delicate fingers, loosening first the decorative red bow tied about the box, then carefully undoing the rose-patterned ivory paper underneath. Inside was a dark green box with a lid on it. He slipped off the lid, peered inside, and pulled out...

"For you!" Pinky exclaimed happily. "Do you like it?"

It was a black coffee mug, with the words 'Best Teacher Ever!' written in white upon the front. It was quite a nice mug, despite the ridiculous phrase - snug in his hands and smooth to the touch. He was equal parts flattered that Pinky had recognized his fondness for coffee and embarrassed that it was that apparent.

"Thank you...," he answered awkwardly. He'd probably have to blot out the text later. Being associated with anything that generic churned his stomach. But he did like the mug. "I... needed a new one."

"Now you can use it with your new coffee maker!"

"You bought that for me...?"

"Of course! Who else would I buy it for?" blurted out Pinky, rolling his eyes. "I mean, everyone can use it, but... I ordered it for you really."

To this, Globetrotter could only stare disbelievingly. He swallowed thickly. What... was with this mouse?! Buying him a mug. Saying he made him less lonely at night. Ordering a coffee maker just so he could enjoy his days a bit more? No one was this nice. Surely, there was some ulterior motive.

"What's the catch...?" he asked, looking serious. There was always a catch. Always.

"Catch, Brain?" inquired Pinky, cocking his head in confusion. "Um... I haven't caught anything lately, Brain. Unless you count this fish," he said, and he pulled out of his pocket an actual, live minnow in a small jar filled with water. "Hellooooo, Jerry!" said Pinky... to the fish. "I caught him in the lake this morning! Still need to buy him a tank, though. Don't I, Jerry?"

Globetrotter simply stared at him, nonplussed, his mouth hanging open a little.

"Go on! Back you go!" said Pinky, tucking the little minnow back into his pocket and smiling at Globetrotter happily as if he hadn't just pulled a live fish out of his coat. "Oh! That's right. Drinks! Aren't you going to get yours, Brain?"

And off he trotted, heading in the direction of the cafeteria to grab, as usual, an odd assortment of foods and a drink. Globetrotter nervously looked behind him at Pinky, as if he might set fire to something... or pull a bazooka out of his pants... or... something. At this point, he didn't know what to expect from this mouse, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Perhaps he was biting off more than he could chew...

But no. He shook his head at the thought. Pinkus was simply an idiot. A kind... thoughtful... very sweet idiot... But an idiot nonetheless. And no amount of good deeds was going to stop him in his plot. Nevertheless, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least try out the mug. He highly doubted it was bugged.

One mug of coffee, and a tray of assorted foods... plus a cup of Sprite, later, and Pinkus and Globetrotter were back at the table, the former laden down with treats, the latter content with his single, fourth serving of Italian Roast. Pinky helped himself eagerly to a sprinkle doughnut, offering Globetrotter a bite as he chewed happily.

"No, thank you. Bad for my... thighs," Globetrotter uttered lamely.

Pinky shrugged and finished off the tasty confection before diving into another. Globetrotter blew on his coffee before taking a tentative sip. It was good. Rich, flavorful, with a bite at its closure. And his lips conformed nicely about the mug. Yes, he liked this mug. Not that he'd ever say that out loud or anything.

For once, Pinky wasn't talking; so preoccupied with a sugar doughnut was he. Normally, Globetrotter would have welcomed this silence, but he'd gotten so used to Pinky always being a chatterbox whenever he was around him (which, admittedly, wasn't terribly often) that he felt... a little uncomfortable not making conversation, strangely.

"So, um...," he began, in a lame attempt to deaden the silence. "What is your opinion on asymptotic analysis?"

"Hm?" Pinky inquired, eyes wide and cheeks bulging with a mouthful of doughnut as he smiled puffily at Globetrotter.

Too complicated. He's not going to understand that, you moron. Globetrotter floundered. He wasn't good at this. Small talk was not one of his strong points.

"Um... chaos theory?"

Pinky swallowed.

"Ohhh! You mean like in Jurassic Park?"

"What?"

"Well, that's what Ian Malcolm always talked about. Chaos theory! Although, personally, I liked Ellie Sattler more. Laura Dern is such a good actress and I loved her in Rambling Rose! She was actually Spielberg's first choice for the role in Jurassic Park, did you know?"

He said all this as he grabbed a bottle of ketchup and mustard each and squirted their contents all over a hotdog he'd set in a bun. At the word "such" he'd given a very feminine wave of the hand that Globetrotter highly disapproved of.

"I did not know," Globetrotter replied, taking a dainty sip of his coffee.

"She also auditioned for the role of Clarice in Silence of the Lambs, but I really do think Jodie Foster was a more appropriate selection. She's quite versatile. I heard she's looking to get back into the directing field soon..."

And on and on he went, sometimes speaking between bites, other times continuing on with a mouthful of food, his thick mumbles so incomprehensible that Globetrotter could only catch a "George Lucas" here and a "Princess Bride" there. It was downright humorous to him that this mouse, who knew so little about the subjects upon which this school was founded, was incredibly versed in filmography. Then again, he supposed it was only appropriate, considering the flamboyant showman that he was. And this was a school of sciences and arts, after all. But then, why hadn't he majored in theater? Trozology, whatever it was, seemed a waste of time.

"You seem to know a lot about cinema," Globetrotter voiced, finally able to find a break in the conversation after a solid ten minutes. The entire time, he'd covertly tried to roam about Pinky's attire with a sharp gaze, looking for anything magnetic he could possibly attach his device to. He eventually settled on Pinky's name tag. Of course. They all sported one, and they were made of metal. If he could somehow stick it on the back...

"Oh, I love the arts!" Pinky responded, clasping his hands together and batting his eyes dreamily. "All the movie magic and the passion and the creativity...!"

"Pinky, might I... see your badge for a moment? Only there's a nasty blemish on it. I... certainly wouldn't want you to walk around with a dirty tag."

"Why, thank you, Brain. How thoughtful of you."

And he unpinned his badge from his coat and handed it to Globetrotter. It was as simple as that.

"So, if you're so into the arts then why didn't you become an actor... or something?" Globetrotter stalled, as his right hand poked about in his jacket pocket to ensure that the magnet was still there. It was. He plucked it out, hiding it in his right hand as he pretended to rub at a spot on the badge with the end of his coat, surreptitiously planting the little magnet on the back of the badge as he did so. Piece of cake.

"Oh, I was going to, Brain! Narf! But I found something else I love much more...," he said, resting a cheek on his left hand as he gazed off into space, a toothy grin curled about his visage.

"Trozology?"

"Mmhm."

"What is Trozology?"

"You don't know, Brain? It's the study o-"

But at that moment, the cafeteria doors burst open to reveal a very angry set indeed: Dex, followed close behind by Maisy, Marvell, Gadget, Tillie, and one other boy rat whom Pinky didn't recognize. Dex and Maisy were shouting at the top of their lungs, oblivious to the few stragglers lingering about the room.

"-never messed with your business before! I know it's important to you. Why do you think I gave you your space?!" Dex yelled at his sister, a plethora of expressive hand gestures complementing his outburst.

"You never 'gave me my space', Dex. You're always hanging out after my classes; checking in on me when I'm trying to relax. How is that 'giving me my space'?!"

"Oh, man. Um. Lemme think. Maybe it's because... I care about you?!"

"Maisy, come on. He's taken a lot of hits for you," Gadget said, stepping forward.

"Oh, like, grade hits? Detention? You'd know a lot about hits, wouldn't you, Dex?"

"Girl, come on. Maisy's right," Marvell uttered, also stepping up. "You're laying it on too hard."

"YOU WANNA TAKE HER SIDE?! THEN FINE! I know you care more about her and Dex than me!"

"I didn't say that!" Marvell countered, looking hurt.

"This is about Mom, isn't it?! You don't know ANYTHING about taking hits!" Maisy practically screamed at Dex, advancing towards him with the ferocity of a tyrannosaurus, causing him to back up with every step she took.

None of them had yet seen Globetrotter and Pinky off to the side, and the janitors stayed as silent as the mice they were from a shaded corner. Pinky looked on the verge of standing up to intervene, but Globetrotter, surprisingly, put out a hand to stop him.

"It's not about Mom! It's... about everything!" Dex choked out. "And don't tell me that I don't know anything about taking hits, Maisy! You don't know the half of it..."

"The hell do you mean about that?" Maisy softened up, but only for a moment. She turned swiftly 'round to glare at her friends. "THE HELL DOES HE MEAN?!"

All of them shuffled about awkwardly, looking embarrassed. Gadget rubbed at her arm, and Marvell bit her lip suspiciously, gaze firmly planted to the floor. But the boy rat looked the most broken of all, and it was him that Maisy targeted.

"What does he mean, Red?"

Red directed his eyes downward, his ears appropriately turning the color of his namesake.

"What does he mean?!"

"I... I promised I wouldn't say, Mais!" he sputtered out, a paw coming up to rub at a sore spot on the back of his head.

"Dex?!" Maisy spat, rounding back on her brother.

"You attend this school just as much as me. You should be smart enough to figure it out," Dex replied, and with that he walked off towards an exit on the opposite end of the cafeteria, purposely ignoring his sister's pleas.

"Tell me what you mean, Dex!"

No response.

"DEX! Tell me what you mean!"

It was as she started crying that Pinky finally made his presence known... via slipping off his chair. It clattered down with its owner, the noise echoing loudly off the walls and pulling every eye in the vicinity towards him. Globetrotter jumped and glared at Pinky.

"O-Oh! Ummm...," Pinky stammered, standing up in a flash and ringing the end of his coat in his hands awkwardly.

Maisy's cheeks turned bright pink. She full out burst into tears as she turned tail and ran back into the hallway, her friends casting one last embarrassed look at the teachers before sprinting off after her, occasionally calling her name.

Pinky swallowed thickly. Globetrotter sighed, long and exhausted, through his nose.

"Why did you stop me, Brain?" Pinky queried, dusting off his coat and propping his chair back up.

"Because sometimes people just need to talk, Pinky," Globetrotter said, slapping the now tampered with badge back on the table for Pinky to take, which he did, pining it on his jacket, none the wiser.

"I don't think that was talking, Brain. That was more like... screaming."

"Well, people need to scream sometimes, too," Globetrotter nipped, draining the last bits of coffee from his mug and heading towards the sink to wash it out. Pinky followed him, demolished tray of food and empty soda cup in hand.

"Have you screamed sometimes, Brain...?" Pinky asked delicately as he tossed his trash and replaced the tray.

Globetrotter didn't answer right away. He looked thoughtful as he washed out his cup.

"Sometimes...," he finally responded, shaking the mug to rid it of the last few droplets of water.

"Were you hurting then, too?"

Another pause. Globetrotter stepped over to a paper towel dispenser, ripping off a piece to dry his cup with.

"Yes."

Globetrotter looked curiously over at Pinky, whose ears had drooped so low that he looked more like a lop rabbit than a mouse. He actually made to step forward, but Globetrotter, already smelling some form of physical affection, backed up, a hand raised in protest.

"Save your pity."

"I'm sorry, Brain. Poit..," Pinky whispered, and he truly was.

"It's fine," replied Globetrotter.

There was an awkward pause, in which neither of them spoke for a solid ten seconds, Globetrotter running a finger along the ring of his new mug, Pinky shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"I... really should be going. Thank you for the mug. It's... good," Globetrotter ended lamely.

"You're welcome," Pinky said, the smallest of smiles crawling up his face. "Thank you, too."

"For what?"

"Sitting with me."

Globetrotter blinked. It was as if heaven itself was shining a spotlight on him, throwing every opportunity at him to find compassion for this mouse and feel guilty for what he'd done. Well, they'll have to try harder than that, Globetrotter thought. He wasn't going to relent that easily. And, in the most monotonous tone he could muster, he responded with a simple:

"Mmhm."

But the smile stayed. It took a lot, it seemed, to completely break Pinky.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 7th, 1993 - 4:02 PM

One of the first things Globetrotter noticed about his brilliant Polarizer, once it had been planted on Pinky, was that... it didn't work. At least, it didn't work on children. Said device had one purpose and one purpose only: redirection. From it a frequency was emitted that affected anyone within five feet of Pinky telepathically. They would be suddenly and inexplicably hit with a desire to preoccupy themselves with some other activity and, as such, never engage in interaction with Pinky for more than a few seconds. As long as he wore the name tag, he couldn't be touched. Poof. His newfound popularity would come to a screeching halt, no one would converse with him ever again, and he'd have no choice but to leave the school, friendless and jobless, leaving Globetrotter back on top as the most notable individual in the school. Or, at least, that's what it was supposed to do.

But it didn't. As usual, Olivia, Timothy, and Cynthia, along with Teresa and one or two others, were at Pinky's classroom at four o'clock sharp the next day, Evinrude arriving twenty minutes later (for the snacks only, of course). The day after that there was an actual line of kids standing outside the door fifteen minutes early, waiting to get in, and the day after that the line was even longer. Globetrotter could only assume that there was some fault in the hardware. But he'd tested it out on himself an hour before he'd met up with Pinky and it had worked just fine then. What was the problem? Perhaps it simply just didn't work on kids, for some reason. But that couldn't be right... Teresa was one of the college students in the school and it didn't work on her either, nor on any teacher that approached Pinky. Strange. He'd have to get the device back and tinker with it some more, he supposed. Not that that would be much of a problem. Considering how easily he'd obtained it last time, snatching it back, he figured, would be a breeze. He decided to simply wait for the right opportunity and nab it back.

Whereas Globetrotter's experiment had failed, Olivia's had gone above and beyond; in fact, it had practically skyrocketed. She now had a total of 271 signatures on her petition, an overwhelming success, in the eyes of her and Pinky. Pinky said that they had enough to approach the principal with. There was just one little problem: to ask the principal to pass their petition, that meant they had to, well, talk to the principal, something no one ever wanted to do. There was only one person in the entire school who wasn't afraid of him, that person being Globetrotter, and even he avoided the angry little maniac as much as possible. Pinky wasn't entirely averse to approaching the headmaster, mainly because he'd simply never met the guy, although there was still a lingering feeling of trepidation due to how unfavorable people talked about him. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. Olivia's petition needed to be signed off on, and he was going to do everything in his power to see that it did!

And so, that afternoon, directly after class, the hallways of Acme School of Arts and Sciences found Pinky marching down the hallway, Olivia's hand in his, as he and his student headed for the principal's office.

They stopped outside the door. Was it just their imagination, or did it feel a bit colder down this part of the hallway? It was a rather darker portion of the school - not as many offices and classes were down here, some of the lights had blown out and hadn't yet been fixed, and the office was situated right in the center of a long strip of hallway, making it the furthest away from the windows. The place simply had a... foreboding atmosphere about it.

Olivia nuzzled closer to Pinky. He smiled and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Put on your helmet, Olivia."

"Like on our imaginary trip into the caves?" Olivia whispered, wide-eyed.

"Mmhm."

Resolute, Olivia let go of Pinky's hand and situated her tam-o-shanter more snuggly atop her head.

"Okay. Let's go fight the dragon," said she.

Pinky knocked on the door - once, twice, three times...

"Come in..," came a voice from the other side. It sounded pleasant enough, but there was something a little... off about it; a sprinkle of deviance behind the honey-suckle tone.

Pinky opened the door.

The inside of this room was, if possible, even darker than the hallway. Like Globetrotter, the headmaster owned a green banker's desk lamp, albeit two instead of one, each on opposite sides of a dark black table, and it served as the only lighting in the entire vicinity. Besides a plethora of books encased in rich wooden shelving behind him, a couple of comfortable chairs spread about, a trash can, a blackboard, and a television in a far corner opposite the principal, the room was surprisingly plain. The most interesting thing about it was a standing globe of the world, one of those expensive ones that twirled around and had little red lights on it that clicked on to highlight various hot spots on the map as you spun it. Olivia liked those. She had an overwhelming desire to spin it, but was too scared to ask, especially seeing as the globe was literally right next to the principal's desk. The further away she could be from him, the better.

"Come in, my children, come in! Oh, do come closer to the desk. You expect an old hamster such as myself to see you properly from that far away?" the principal beckoned. He sat in a very tall, very black chair behind the ebony desk. Unlike the uniform layout of the room, he appeared quite relaxed. A little too relaxed, perhaps. He was reclining, bare feet up on the desk, and decked out in a comfortable-looking brown suit and pants set, complete with checkered tie. He looked as if he ruled the world, and the smirk on his face as he smoked from a thick, piping cigar only cemented this.

Pinky didn't think he looked that old - fifty, maybe? Around the same age as Brain. But he also didn't want to be disrespectful, and so he moved tepidly forward, his steps more of a shuffle than a walk, Olivia sliding along a couple paces behind him. Now that she was actually in the room, she didn't feel quite so brave.

"I hear you've arranged something of a party," the golden hamster addressed Pinky. "I must say, I'm quite intrigued. We haven't had an employees-only gathering in four years! I'm impressed you managed to pull it off."

"Th-Thank you, Headmaster," Pinky mumbled.

"Please. Call me Snowball," the hamster said gentlemanly, holding up a hand. "No need for formalities. And who might you be?" he asked Olivia, leaning over a little, the better to see her.

"O-O-Olivia, Sir."

"Olivia. You know, the name 'Olivia' comes from the word 'olive'. The olive tree is a symbol of peace and fertility, something we all hope to breed in this school. Fertile minds; obedient pupils. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Y-Yes, Sir," Olivia agreed, although, privately, she didn't understand what he was getting at at all.

"Please, Mr. Snowball, we've come to you with a request," Pinky interrupted, holding up the petition.

"Oh?" Snowball answered, cocking an eyebrow as he took a long, steady swig from the cigar and blew out an impressive ring. Olivia watched it float around the room, intrigued despite herself. It collided upon the chalkboard and disintegrated in a soft huff.

"It's a petition for a new baseball stadium," Pinky continued, holding out the paper for Snowball to take, which he did, looking it over without much interest. "We got two hundred and seventy-one signatures! I... hope that's enough?"

Only now did Pinky realize that he was twisting his tail in his paws something terrible, leaving little creases in it. He stopped immediately. Olivia had been biting at her fingernails. She also stopped as soon as she saw Pinky do so.

"So... you want me... to sign off on this?" Snowball asked, tossing a rather deadpan look in Pinky's direction.

Pinky gulped.

"Is that... all right? A lot of your students would love to have this back on the grounds! You'd be able to develop a team to compete with the other schools. We could win trophies and good sports reputation!"

"And it would be a P.E. class to add to your curriculum," Olivia added. Pinky smiled at her, impressed.

"Yes! Absolutely!"

"Hmph. You think people would go for this drivel? Two hundred signatures from a pool of three thousand is hardly enough to turn heads," he retorted, setting the petition down on the desk and pushing it towards them so hard that Pinky was thankful he was able to catch it before it clattered to the floor. "I must say, I'm not very impressed."

"B-But, it would do wonders for the school!" Pinky pleaded. "And Miss Olivia here worked so hard to get all the signatures. Didn't you, Olivia?"

"Yes, I did," she admitted, suddenly a bit bolder. Fight the dragon. Fight the dragon. "And you shouldn't be so retorshical. All the other schools have sports teams!"

Pinky gave her a side glance. Too far. Too far...

Olivia licked her lips, in-taking a deep breath for her next burn.

"I think you're scared."

And she put her hands on her hips, the better to complete the effect.

Pinky bit his lip. Olivia...

Snowball frowned. Slipping his feet off the table, he leaned fully forward over his desk, his face mere feet from Olivia's, and growled into her face: "I'm scared of nothing."

Olivia had closed one eye at this, the better to block out the dragon's harsh stare... and rancid breath. He even smoked like a dragon. But she stayed resolute.

"Then prove it!"

"Um... M-Mr. Snowball, if I may...?" Pinky barged in, desperate to fan the flames. It was bad enough she'd poked the dragon's eye in his own cave. They didn't need the fire, too. "Perhaps there's something... we could do for you in return? As a trade?"

That settled Snowball a little. He sat back in his chair, slightly amused.

"Hmph. What could you possibly offer to me?"

"Well, um... A special spot in the party, perhaps? Or a gift...? N-Narf..."

"No...," Snowball replied, waving it off and taking another smoke from his cigar.

"A... ticket to Disneyland?" Olivia offered helpfully.

"Pass."

"A... um... coupon for the world's biggest che-"

"Wait... Wait," Snowball said, cutting Pinky off. "The party, you said... Who's coming to the party?"

"Oh, um, everyone!" Pinky smiled nervously.

"Almost everyone...," Olivia mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms indignantly, but Pinky gave her a look that very clearly told her to shush or else.

"Will Globetrotter be there?"

"You mean Brain?" Pinky asked. "Oh... No, I don't think so. I invited him, but he... said he wouldn't make it."

"Brain? You call him Brain? Ha-ha!" Snowball laughed, actually clutching his chest as he reeled back in his chair. "Ha-ha! Ohhh, that's rich. I'll bet he just loves that."

Poor Pinky and Olivia didn't know what to say. They tried to laugh along, but it only came out sounding unbearably awkward, and so they stopped.

"My good fellow, you've convinced me. I'll sign your insipid little petition."

"Really?!" Pinky and Olivia bother spurted out at once, hardly daring to believe their ears.

"On one condition: Get dear 'Brain' to come to the party. It's been an age since I've seen him, you see, and I'd love to... catch up on things, as it were. Do that, and your stadium is as good as built."

Pinky and Olivia looked at one another. Convincing the most stubborn individual in the school to attend Pinky's party when he clearly wasn't interested wasn't going to be easy, but they'd come this far. Surely, they could try again... and again, if they had to? Wasn't the school worth that? Weren't the students worth it?

"Do we have a deal?" Snowball pressed them, a nasty smirk upon his sour face.

Olivia nodded at Pinky. Pinky nodded back. He looked Snowball straight in the eye.

"Deal," said Pinky.

"Deal," said Olivia.

And they shook hands with him, Snowball squeezing down a little too tightly.

"We have a bargain. I look forward to seeing him at the party. Hm hm. Brain. Ha! Oh, how positively affluent."

And they left him as such, cigar in hand, laughing his head off like an absolute maniac.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

7:24 PM

Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter snapped shut his weighted briefcase. He exited his classroom, shut the door, and locked it, as he always did. Another night; another opportunity to work in the lab. While he hadn't managed to get his magnet back, he'd certainly attended to other projects that required his attention. There was one he'd been quite eager to finish for some weeks. Tonight was the night.

Professor Ronald Pinkus opened his classroom door, but did not exit. Students first. A young boy mole stepped out of the classroom, his face still a little wet, but a smile tickling his face. He shuffled out into the hallway, Pinky and Olivia following him.

"Thank you, Mr. Pinkus," the diminutive mole said gratefully. "I wish my mom would listen to me like you do."

"Think nothing of it. Come by whenever you need to talk, okay?"

"Thank you, Sir." And, shyly, he stepped up and hugged him round the middle. "Please don't ever leave."

"I won't if I can help it, Toby," promised Pinky. "Promise."

"Come on, Toby! We're late!" Olivia kindly signaled. At the end of the hallway, Mrs. Judson stood waiting for them.

With a last squeeze, Toby parted and waved good-bye, keeping his eyes on Pinky until he turned the corner and was lost from sight. Pinky continued waving, even after his student had disappeared. He smiled warmly and sighed, deeply and satisfactorily. Closing his classroom door, he walked down the hallway... and stopped as he heard the familiar ding of the elevator. He turned in the direction of the noise, blinking. This was the fourth time he'd caught Brain staying up late to do... whatever it was he did behind that wall in the basement. He'd been too nervous to follow him the last couple of times, seeing as he'd almost been caught initially, but... perhaps it couldn't hurt to take another peek?

Two minutes later saw a pair of loosely-tied sneakers tip-toeing down the stairwell, heading covertly in the direction of the basement. He stuck his nose around the corner. No sign of him. Already, Globetrotter had gained access into the secret lab, oblivious to the intruder whom had followed him to his private dungeon. Carefully, he stepped towards the wall where he knew a hidden panel rested. Had he been a bit more observant, he might have noticed something following him this time - a camera, set high up in a far corner of the hall, small enough to not draw too much attention to itself, yet following his every move all the same.

Pinky pressed an ear up to the wall, listening intently. He didn't even bother with the panel this time; he knew it wouldn't open for him. Sure enough, he heard clinking and clanking and the occasional typing of what sounded like computer keys echoing through the room beyond, barely audible, but still within his range of hearing.

"Naughty naughty, Brain," Pinky whispered to himself. "What are you doing back there...?"

Suddenly, the noises stopped. No clinking. No clanking. No typing of keys. Pinky froze. He pressed his ear ever harder to the door. Last time this happened, he'd been able to pick up the tell-tale sign of footsteps heading for the door, but this time he heard nothing. Perhaps Brain had sat down to read a book? He almost stopped breathing, listening as hard as he possibly could...

HISSSS!

Without any warning, the door slid open, Pinky giving way as he fell to the ground, one half of his body inside the lab, the other half still laying out in the basement hallway.

"AH-HA! So it was you!" Globetrotter exclaimed, his anger unmistakable as he grabbed Pinky by the shirt collar and, with surprising strength, tossed him full on into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Pinky shuffled up onto his feet in haste and backed up towards the opposite wall, slamming into a metallic shelving unit full of jars, beakers, and other unusual things he couldn't put a name to. Globetrotter was advancing towards him, looking positively livid as he brandished what looked to be an X-Acto knife at him. Forget Snowball. He could handle that. This was terrifying.

"Completely innocent. HA! I knew you were up to something as soon as I saw that pencil outside my door last week. What are you after? What concoction of mine have you been looking to pilfer?!"

"I-I..! N-Nothing, Brain! I didn't even know about this place until last week! Honest!"

"HA! A likely tale. For all I know, you could have known about this lab since you got here; perhaps even applied because of your knowledge of this facility. Are you a spy? A NASA scientist? Who are you working for?!"

By this point, he was full on in Pinky's personal bubble, a hand practically choking Pinky by the tie as he brandished the X-Acto knife under his chin threateningly. Poor Pinky was near tears.

"I'm not a spy! Honest, Brain! Really I'm not! Please don't turn me into mince meat!" he begged, holding his hands up to shield his face as best he could, a near impossibility, seeing as Globetrotter was so invasive. Nevertheless, the rabid teacher loosened his grip a little.

"You swear you didn't know about this place until recently...?"

"Mmhm!" Pinky nodded fervently, his face full on wet, eyes shut tight as he tried, and failed, to keep the tears at bay.

"Hmph..." Brain conceded, grip loosening further. Well... fine. But don't touch anything! Understand?"

Another fervent nod, eyes still closed, and Globetrotter released him. Pinky clutched at his neck, gasping for breath as he rubbed at the spot where the tie had pulled on him. He rubbed at his eyes, the better to wipe away his pitiful tears.

"Wh-What is this place...?" he choked out, still catching his breath.

"My laboratory," Globetrotter replied stiffly, hopping into his computer chair and proceeding to continue in his voracious typing. "Don't touch anything."

Pinky nodded, even though Globetrotter couldn't see him. Don't touch anything. Already, he wanted very much to tickle the top of a very brown, very fuzzy-looking object sitting on a shelf near the entrance, but he honored Globetrotter's request. He didn't say he couldn't look at anything, however, and so Pinky looked, eyes wide in astonishment as he meandered about the strange facility.

It wasn't a terribly large area, but what he'd managed to fit inside of it was impressive. There were shelves of bottles, papers, strange electrical appliances, various scientific and artistic tools, rows and rows of books, and two computers, one of which Globetrotter was currently working at. A ghostly green glow hung from a double row of long lights recessed into the ceiling above, the emerald hue occasionally peppered with a soft, yellow light from a table lamp here or there. Even in this room Brain had to have his mahogany, it seemed, that being reserved for the bookshelf. But the most intriguing item in the room, by far, was a large, bubbling... something. It looked somewhat like a giant beaker, albeit a bit more bulbous, and with long tubes branching off here or there, like the stretched arms of a huge, metallic octopus. Inside bubbled some greenish concoction. Pinky wondered what it was, and tapped at the glass curiously.

"I said don't touch anything," Globetrotter warned without turning his head.

"Oh. Sorry...," Pinky apologized, taking a step back. "What is it?"

"It's for my latest plan."

"W-What plan is that, Brain?"

Brain sighed, pushed himself away from the desk, and stood up out of his rolling chair to stare at Pinky.

"If I tell you, you must solemnly swear not to spread a word about this to anyone," he breathed threateningly. If Pinky really was as big of an idiot as he appeared, he'd actually keep his mouth shut and not tell the authorities. Strangely, he was probably the only individual in the entire school whom he could trust to keep quiet. Knowing someone this daft had its perks, he supposed.

Pinky nodded and raised a hand, as if taking an oath.

"I promise, Brain!"

"Hmph. Fine. I'm planning... to take over the world!"

He said this in a flourish, hands raised in ecstasy. Pinky wouldn't have been surprised if lightning had shot out of nowhere at such a forward gesture. He'd never seen Brain this passionate before.

"The... whole world, Brain?" Pinky gasped, incredulous.

"Of course," the scientist replied, tucking his hands behind his back. "This Earth has been in a state of turmoil for years. With my genius intellect and general prowess, I'd be able to make it a better place - create a richer, more fulfilling existence for people to live in."

"Ohhhhhh! You mean like charity work! Right, Brain? Better places for people to live and all that? Good food; warm homes; happy little children playing in the yard with their puppies!" Pinky voiced, hands clasped together against his cheek as he grinned widely at the thought. "Oh! And better school systems! And no more people getting hurt. And plenty of money for everyone!"

"Why, yes, Pinky, that's... exactly what I'm talking about. With... the occasional adjustment here or there, of course."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know... A specific rule set for people to abide by. Recognizing me as their leader. World peace. That sort of thing..."

"Sooooo... sponsorship then?"

"Um. Sure... If... that's what you want to see it as."

"Well, I think that's just wonderful, Brain!"

"Y-You do...?"

"Well, of course!" Pinky continued, prancing about the room now, not at all shy about toying with a test tube or a Newton's cradle. For once, Brain didn't stop him. "We all could use a better place to live in! Peace and love for everyone! That's what I teach every day, Brain."

"Do you?"

"Of course. If I'd known about this place earlier I would have supported you a long time ago! Although, I don't know why you have to hide it all down here. Don't you want everyone to know what good you're planning on doing for the Earth?" Pinky asked, shrugging confusedly.

"U-Uhm... Well, it has to be a secret. If anyone knew about this, they'd... probably try to stop me," Globetrotter fumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Why?"

"Well, you know... Taking over the world. It's... not exactly a normal thing to put on one's "to-do" list."

"Well, it should be!" Pinky retorted, hands on his hips. "If everyone was as kind as you the world would be a better place!"

Just then, Pinky gasped, struck with a sudden idea.

"What?" Brain asked, a touch worried.

"Brain! What if we keep it a secret until allllll of your plans are ready, and then we surprise everyone with a big, save-the-world party!"

"Ummm... S-Sure! That's... kind of what I had in mind, actually."

"Egad! It's brilliant! I'll handle all the party preparations when the time comes, don't worry. I'll get balloons and decorations and... OH! Cake! We have to have cake, Brain! But will two hundred cakes be enough to feed everyone?"

"Pinky...?" Brain asked tentatively. "You... promise you won't tell anyone about this, right?"

"Of course not, Brain," Pinky said matter-of-factly, waving a hand. "I mean, you did almost kill me back there, but now I see that you just didn't want to spoil the surprise!"

"So... no blabbing?"

"My lips are sealed, Brain," he promised, making a "zipping" motion across his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. "But only if you'll let me help!"

He meant it in jest, partially. Even if Brain said no, he still would honor his request to keep the secret a secret, but Brain took it literally. He sighed, facepalming. Positives and negatives, he supposed.

"All right. Fine. But just... stay out of the way as best you can, all right?"

"Promise!" Pinky swore, beaming. "Um... do you mind if I hang around here for a little while?"

Brain narrowed his eyes at him. Just because they were now technically partners in crime didn't mean that he wanted Pinky hanging around any longer than he needed to. Then again, it wasn't as if letting him stay a bit longer would hurt anything.

"Just as long as you keep your paws off my lab."

"Yippee!" Pinky exclaimed, jumping once up into the air before reengaging in deep exploration of the room.

Brain sighed, turned back around, and planted his caboose firmly back in the computer chair. Every now and then he'd pause in his typing to stare curiously at Pinky as he looked at everything in the lab, trying his darndest not to lift a finger as Globetrotter had asked. Brain rolled his eyes, finally consenting.

"Fine. You can touch the books. But be careful with them," he warned.

"Oh, thank you, Brain! I won't rip a page!"

"You'd better not...," Brain mumbled under his breath.

Pinky sifted through the books, eventually finding one he liked and sitting down cross-legged on the floor, such as a child might during reading time. Brain shook his head at this. A past conversation came to mind...

"You're also the only other person who's still around at night when I go home late. It... makes me feel a little less lonely."

He stared at Pinky once more, head cocked to the side questioningly, before turning back to his work. The lanky newcomer was, undoubtedly, an annoyance. He was oxymoronic, incredibly daft, and a thorn in Brain's side. Things hadn't been quite the same at the school since he'd arrived. He was a pest that eventually needed to be eradicated. And yet, as Brain sat there, listening to the soft turning of the pages behind him, with the occasional 'ooo' or 'ahhh' complimenting a particularly good part of the book, he had to admit that the presence of someone else in the room, someone kind and nonjudgmental and supportive, made him feel a little less lonely, too.

-------------

Author's Notes:

- My dad used to own (and probably still does) one of those big briefcases with the locking mechanisms on them. I always enjoyed watching him fiddle with the combination and pop open the case. Of course, now-a-days, briefcases are pretty much a thing of the past, but I still think about that big ol' thing and its locks sometimes.

- The line "... in public, Brain?" is a reference to a very similar quote from one of the original Pinky and the Brain episodes, in which Brain asks Pinky to do something simple and Pinky, misunderstanding, replies with: "Brain? In public?"

- Marvell is an original OC created by Black Geeky Girl, whom you can find on Twitter and Tumblr.

- The line "positively affluent" is a reference to a PatB-themed story of the same name on AO3 that also features Snowball. Please look it up and read it. It's awesome.

- The ending is, admittedly, a bit rushed, and I struggled with the subtext of the laboratory scene. I'm not certain how apparent it is or not, but, if you don't get what I'm going for, all the better I suppose, as you'll be just as surprised as Pinky in a future chapter.

- This is my favorite chapter so far. I had a blast composing this.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

21 notes · View notes

the-great-imagines-of-1812 · 4 years

Text

Mystery of Love~ A Jo March x fem!Reader imagine

This is for @my-morning-straightjacket , to hold her over until i publish the next part to ‘To Love Another’ :)

Song Used: Mystery of Love, by Sufjan Stevens (lyrics in italics)

Summary: Jo and Reader’s relationship, from beginning to end.

A/N: fluff, ANGST, then fluff again. happy ending. also, i highly recommend you listen to the song while reading for more effect. :)

~~~~~~

Oh, to see without my eyes The first time that you kissed me

First Meeting: December 25, 1861.

You remember the day you met Josephine March so very well. Being a childhood friend of Laurie’s who moved to France to further your education in art, you visited your best friend as often as you could, often several times a year. He and his grandfather always welcomed you with open arms; his tutor less, as you often had a habit from distracting him from his studies to go to the music hall or some party.

Ever sine you had moved across the sea, away from your family, Laurie always kept up his letters. He had practically begged you to come visit for Christmas, staying a couple of weeks through the new year.

You, of course, said yes. You were long overdue to visit the Laurence household, and your own family. It wasn’t your fault; this semester at the University had been a tough one, and you were glad to have a two month’s break.

You arrived in Concord, Massachusetts, on the mid morning hours of Christmas Eve. Laurie had practically run to you, sweeping you into his arms and grabbing your luggage off the port. Both of you spent the entire day chattering, catching up on one another’s lives.

Boundless by the time I cried I built your walls around me

After you spent hours by the fire place talking about your semester at the University, it was Laurie’s turn to speak. He told you all about the March family next door, and the loveliest of the sisters, Jo March. By the way he spoke of her, he was practically in love. You could see it in his eyes.

You will always be able to tell by someone’s eyes.

The next morning, you talked away with Laurie’s grandfather, telling him all about Paris.

It all happened to fast. One minute you were eating, and the next you were carrying your breakfast to the March Family’s house, since they had given up theirs to the poor Mrs. Hummel and her children. The family greeted you all as soon as you entered.

You stood in the corner, awkwardly, since you didn’t now anyone, with the exception of Laurie and his grandfather. That was until a blonde, bright-blue-eyed girl approached you, to introduce herself.

She held out her hand to you, and she was oh so welcoming and her voice sounded like home. You wanted to hear it for the rest of your life.

“I’m Y/N Andrews, it’s nice to meet you. You must be Jo. Laurie’s told me all about you.”

White noise, what an awful sound Fumbling by Rogue River

She grasped your hand firmly. “Oh, it so nice to meet you. I hope Laurie has said all good things. Is your family by any chance the publishing Andrews of New York?” she questioned.

You nodded. “It’s my Uncle’s business.”

She kept her gaze on you. She thought you were beautiful. “Interesting. How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“I live and study in France, furthering my education in the art field. But Laurie’s a childhood friend of mine.”

“How intriguing! A woman with a career?”

You blushed and nodded. “Indeed. I quite enjoy it.”

The conversation between you two flowed so easily, and soon enough she introduced you to the rest of her family. You and Amy got along great, with you telling her all about your art career. You and Meg talked about your favorite dresses. And Beth was the most quiet, but shyly showed you a song on her piano.

Feel my feet above the ground Hand of God, deliver me

You had to go back to France a few weeks into January, in order o go back for the new semester. But before you had left, you and Jo had exchanged addresses, and had sent so many letters back and forth. She would send you original poems and stories, all about - you. It was strange and new, and beautiful. She always made you blush. You couldn’t wait to see her again.

That May, you had finished your time at the university and planned to move back to Concord to stay with your family, until you got your own job and were able to move out.

Therefore, you and Jo were able to spend much more time together. Oh, you remember the day she kissed you in so much detail. She took you to a field of lavender, and confessed to you as you both were sitting down, enjoying the sunshine.

She covered your hands with her own and you brought your face close to hers. You heart was beating so fast. She traced a gentle hand along your face.

“Jo I-”

“Shh. Relax, my love. Let me try this, why don’t you?”

You nodded, and she slowly leaned in, capturing your lips with her own. It was sweet. Having someone care for you in such a pleasant way; your soul almost left your body.

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The first time that you touched me Oh, will wonders ever cease? Blessed be the mystery of love

You had never been happier in the time you shared with Jo. The sun seemed to shine just for you, and the stars at night, too. You grew closer to her sisters, too. You and Meg gossiped often. You would teach Amy an art class, free of charge. Beth was like the little sister you never had; she would often lay on you as you read her a story. Sometimes Shakespeare, sometimes Charlotte Bronte.

Oh, but the time spent with Jo. You two would sit in the couch in the attic when no one was home, with your head upon her chest, and every once in a while, she kissed your forehead lovingly. After the story was done, she would bring you into a deep kiss, and the sunshine shined on both of you.

You wished for moments like these forever.

Lord, I no longer believe Drowned in living waters Cursed by the love that I received From my brother's daughter

Among the both of you, there was talk about the future, a future where you two could live openly, free of judgement.

“I’d marry you, you know.” said Jo one day as she kissed the shell of your ear. Both of you were cuddled up in front of the fire place at your house.

“But, Jo-”

She kissed your nose. “Ah ah ah. No buts. We’ll be together under the eyes of the lord, he’ll bring us into his grace for eternity. We’ll live in happiness.”

“Sounds perfect to me, love.”

Like Hephaestion, who died Alexander's lover Now my riverbed has dried Shall I find no other?

But you were both so naive. Thinking that the world was made for you. That the sun would shine for the pair of you.

“Mother, you can’t possibly do this to me. Father, tell her!”

“No, Franklin. Don’t speak. You will marry Alexander Cores by next week. No more discussions.”

You sobbed. “I wanted to have a career!”

“You will. As a housewife. Back in Spain.”

“Helene, you can’t possibly expect her to-”

“She’ll learn to be a proper lady, Frank. No more discussions. You’ll be married next week and straight off to Spain the day after.”

You ran straight out the door, no coat or anything. You had to go see Jo. You burst into the March home, with no regard for anything. She was talking with her sisters and fell into her lap, crying.

“Y/N! What’s wrong?” Amy said, putting a hand on your back.

“They’re-They’re-” you said, your cries cutting you off.

“It’s alright, take your time.” Said Meg. You could feel Beth wrap her arms around your waist. No words needed to be said from her.

Once you had gathered yourself up. You were able to explain. “They- my parents are forcing me to marry.” you felt tears come up in your eyes again. “And he’s taking me off to Spain!”

Jo felt her heart clench and drop in her stomach. She couldn’t lose you, not like this. She leaned down to kiss the side of your head. “Isn't there anything you can do? There must be something!”

“No there isn’t. The wedding is scheduled for next week!”

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me I'm running like a plover Now I'm prone to misery The birthmark on your shoulder reminds me How much sorrow can I take? Blackbird on my shoulder And what difference does it make When this love is over?

It was the night before the wedding. The fireplace in your room crackled and popped as you stared at the room. There were no thoughts in your head. You had given up.

You heard a knocking on the window. You got up and opened it. Jo.

And just like that, you had burst into tears. Her face dropped at this, seeing your unhappiness. “Oh my love. Oh my sweet. It’s going to be alright.”

You trembled in her arms. “No it’s not! I’ll be away from you and never see you again! And I’ll be in pain, and it will be horrible!”

“One last night.”

“Jo, what?”

She fully crawled through the window, now in front of you. “Let me spend one last night with you. We’ll make this our forever. I’ll be gone by morning.”

You had never nodded quicker. You brought Jo into your bed, letting her wrap her arms around you. “Oh, love of my life. Rest.”

She kissed the tears running down your face, and you soon fell unconscious.

This would be your forever, after all.

Shall I sleep within your bed? River of unhappiness

You had been in Spain for almost seven years now. You missed Jo more than you could fathom. Sure, there were letters exchanged back back and forth nearly every day, but it was nothing like kissing her or laying your head on her chest and having her read to you while basking in the sunshine and enjoying the privacy of the attic.

In other words, you were miserable.

And as for Alexander- you really tried with him. You tried to love him, but you couldn’t. She was always on your mind.

As for Jo, she could possibly be worse. She fell into a depression, and she couldn’t explain to anyone why, with fear of judgement. Believe it or not, she rote some of her best work during this time.

All artists have to go through something tragic to create their life’s work.

Hold your hands upon my head Till I breathe my last breath

It was then that you prayed for a miracle. It was as if the Good Lord has heard your cry and decided it was time to align the stars for you two.

Alexander was caught in an embezzlement fraud from work, and was charged and put into prison for 6 years. His lawyers advised that you divorce him.

And so you did. Packed your bags, and booked boat tickets for Concord.

It was then that you received the letter from Marmee. She detailed of Beth’s sickness, an advised you to come, in case anything should happen. You were more than happy to permanently stay in Massachusetts.

You arrived early on a cold January afternoon in 1869. On the same port that Laurie picked you up on so many years ago. It now seemed dull.

But you were here to stay, no matter how glum it may be.

You quickly made your way to the March house, without a single thought. You set your bags down as you came in, Meg’s twins coming to greet you. “Auntie!”

“Hello, my lovelies! Where’s your mother?”

“Hello, Y/N” Meg said, with a said with a sad smile, peeking out from behind the wall. You set the twins down and went over to her.

“She’s passed, Y/N. Beth. She’s gone.” You could see the tears running down her face, the ones she was trying to hide.

You brought her into a hug. “It’s going to be alright, Meg. I’ve got you.”

She cried into your shoulder before puling away. “Jo’s upstairs, you know. Just be careful. She’s fragile.”

You blushed. “How’d you know?”

She gave you a wink as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I always know. You can tell by the way you looked at one another.”

With that, you gathered your skirts and made your way up the stairs. Nearly tripping over the many skirts. Jo always said you wore too much. When you reached the top floor, there she was.

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me The last time that you touched me

She was hunched over Beth’s bed, crying silently. She didn’t notice you come into the room. You nearly broke down at the sight of her.

“J-Jo?”

Her head quickly shot up, eyes fixed on you. Your dress looked expensive; Alexander must have been well off. But you were the same beautiful girl she met way back.

She stumbled as she walked over to you. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She collapsed at your feet, grabbing at your skirts as you got to her level.

“Please don’t leave again! I’ve been in such terrible pain! Please!”

You stroked her hair, her head now being in your lap.

“I’m here to stay, love. I’m not leaving.”

You were here for good.

Oh, will wonders ever cease?

A year later, you and Jo were on a carriage ride to church on a warm, spring Sunday morning.

A secret marriage. You guys’ little secret.

You took a black wedding band out of dress pocket, putting it on her finger. “With this ring, I take thee, Josephine March, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you for all eternity. In sickness and in health, as long as be both shall live.”

You whispered, so the driver couldn’t hear you. “With this ring, I take thee, Y/N Andrews, as my loving wife. I promise to love and cherish you, for all eternity; in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

She pulled you into a deep kiss, her hands on your neck and yours on her waist. As you pulled up to the church she helped you out the carriage, and you two gave each other a look as you went inside the building.

That day, you took communion together, and considered each other married in secret.

Death was the only thing that parted you, as you passed away from tuberculosis in 1900. She always held your hand, even when you passed.

She passed away two years later, in 1902. Her last wish was to be buried with a photograph of you.

You two met again in heaven and you were both young again, with the rest of the March family. Laurie and his grandfather, too.

On the 26th of June, 2015, gay marriage was legalized in all 50 states under the Obama administration. In all states, people of all sexualities would be able to marry their partner, without discrimination.

You and Jo rejoiced from above, along with everyone else. All that you wished was that it happened sooner.

But you celebrated with joy along with everyone down in the land of the living.

Blessed be the mystery of love.

~~~~~~

A/N: I LOVED this. feedback is appreciated! :)

- Talya

#little women #little women x reader #little women x you #little women x y/n #jo march #jo march x reader #jo march x you #jo march x fem! reader #jo march x y/n

97 notes · View notes