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mediocre-artist · 6 months

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Another fic of our favourite Gaunt <33 Was a gift for my friend after he passed a big test :D Super proud of him!!

"Blast it," you hear Ominis mumble under his breath as he works to unbutton his dress shirt. Candles flicker about your shared dorm room, and you are trying your damnedest to stare at the glow's waltz and pointedly not at the very pretty, slowly stripping boy just a few feet over by his bed. You tended to enjoy the dances the flames created, but now nothing seemed more boring knowing what you were missing. Quietly, you grab the nearest book and flip inside, boring your gaze straight through a page about... the history of the troll and wizard relations. Ah. Riveting. (You'd rather watch paint dry. A full bucket of non-enchanted, muggle paint. That had to be more entertaining. The thought makes you snort.)

The sound of Ominis saying your name pulls you from your musing and you nearly turn to face him when you remember why you were looking away to begin with.

"Yes?" You reply, gluing your gaze to the crease where the pages are sewn and far too loudly flipping the parchment.

"If you aren't too busy pretending to read, I would greatly appreciate some assistance with this damned button," Ominis says, and it takes everything in you not to flounder at the passive (and admittedly true) accusation. Hot guilt and embarrassment claws layers beneath your skin as you attempt to swallow whole the nerves trying to smother your words.

"I wasn't—" you begin.

"Please. I'm blind, not stupid," he quips. "And now that we've officially established such, your help would be greatly appreciated." You try not to wallow in the molten searing of your cheeks as you finally turn to face him. The blond has dropped his hands from the troublesome button, expecting your help and knowing he'll receive it. He's not far undressed, in all honesty, and your effort to keep yourself from straying your gaze seems a bit silly now. You take one, two, three steps across the room to where he stands by his bed, and he raises his chin when he hears you stop before him. Hesitantly, you reach your hand up to the button that lies at the dip of his collarbone; it seems to have gotten tangled in a few loose loops of thread, and knowing Ominis, he doesn't want to risk accidentally pulling them further or popping the button off. You carefully push the button through the loops, freeing it from its net and allowing it to slip out through the buttonhole. Though the task is complete, you linger, taking in the sight of his face this close. You can see the sparkle in his veiled blue eyes, can count the beauty marks on his skin and silently swoon over the elegant curl of his long lashes. He's beautiful, you think.

Ominis clears his throat and you jump back, not missing the subtle smirk that flashes across his pink lips.

"I can still hear, you know. Quite well, in fact. You took your time drawing away," Ominis states factually, and you turn, yanking over the drawer of your clothes chest to pull out a more comfortable shirt. You toss it onto your bed and tug the one you're donning off, the rustle of fabric loud in your ears.

"Must you judge so harshly?" You ask, shedding your trousers to replace those, as well, kicking them off to the side before busying yourself with searching for a new pair.

Ominis is quiet for just a moment.

"I prefer the term observing."

"Uh-huh. Sounds like a load of it." You step into your trousers and tug them up, another silence falling between you, before you fall back onto the bed with a loud sigh. "Remind me to leave any room Peeves is in. Even if it's during class."

Ominis hides a small smile as he finishes dressing himself for bed as well, slipping under the covers. It's loud and the sound bounces around in your head, fabric against fabric. It puts warm, embarrassing thoughts in your brain.

"As if you're less the menace."

A grin tugs at your lips and you grin, sliding into your own bed.

"Very true... goodnight, Ominis."

"Goodnight."

You dream of blond boys with light, foggy eyes and a touch warm and sweet as spiced pumpkin juice.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x male reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hp fanfic #requests open :)#slytherin reader #romeowritesHP

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katieaki · 9 months

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My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! I made a summary of the first part, here, which tells you basically everything you need to know about Lou, her (newly discovered as) requited-but-complicated love, and the ill-advised journey she is on!

Uh-oh, friends, we've gotten a bit of a genre shift. I hope you were enjoying your queer western, but now it's time for a queer horror story! I'm SO excited to be posting this! I've been planning things that are happening in this update since January. Careful readers will remember that Lou loves to listen to her little Vampire radio show... let's see how she likes LIVING it.

Read it for free on my patreon, here! Voting ends at 1 EST, 7/26! (image: Head study for The Nun, c. 1870, Adelaide Claxton) excerpt under the cut!

There was a large altar to the Listening Lady against the front wall, framed by the glowing stained glass windows. The statue at its center held a dove in each hand with a string of red glass beads connecting the two of them, neck-to-neck. A second strand of beads connected the center of the first strand to the top of the Listening Lady’s left breast. In the gloom and the haze, it was difficult to see a full picture of the room, but there were niches every few feet and most were occupied by a statue or votive of the Listening Lady. Among the various Listening Lady statues, placed in its own private, heavily-decorated niche, was a yellow lucky cat figure. A thin strip of red fabric was tied around its eyes and something about that sent a drip of ice down the back of her neck. She didn’t exactly like having their watching eyes on her, but having them be purposefully blindfolded seemed like a bad omen. What didn’t they want them to see? She re-shouldered her pack and walked faster after the pale acolyte that was leading them.

They led the two of them through a door to the right of the main altar. It was dark inside. The only light came from a huge quantity of candles lining the hall. Alma had said it had been dead silent when she was there, but the first thing Lou noticed was a low but consistent and enveloping hum she could almost feel in her back teeth. And the cold. It was cold. As cold as a morning in early spring. Lou chilled easily and her nose and fingertips immediately went painfully cold. The sweat on her lower back, armpits, and temples became clammy.

#Wasteland Pony Express #katieakipresentsthewasteland #original fiction #original content #oc #Lou #Louetta Primrose #lesbian fiction #interactive fiction #choose your own adventure #queer western #western romance #lgbtq fiction #choose your own path #cyoa #queer horror

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archetype-archives · 1 year

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ROTTMNT : SPIRITS WITH THE WEAPONS

Not like every other day.

Masterpost

Plot: It was a normal day for the four spirits when suddenly four turtles and one human changed everything.

Genre: Fluff, Attempts at Humor, Family-Bonding, Light Hearted, Original Characters, Canon Compliant

Notes: this one is a bit meh, but it's been sitting around for a while so I decided to just publish it as it is. I'm working on other projects that are much more exciting, so all my time is put into that instead.

Standing tall on the outskirts of the Hidden City stood a tall menacing building filled with a mix of mechanical and organic parts. Pulsing vines, steaming pipes, ominous glowing lights. The home of a warrior-scientist yokai. Inside, amongst many, many rooms, is a large abandoned hall filled to the brim with new and old weapons of various kinds. Swords, axes, arrows, shields. The room pulsed with a vibrant energy of science and magic combined in a glorious concoction. And there, on a far wall, glowing brilliantly in hues of red, orange, blue and purple sat four weapons unlike the rest. An Odachi, Tonfas, Kusari-Fundo and a Halberd. Mystic power surged through the wood and metal, a buzz surrounding them, shivers of vibrations, and, if you leaned close enough, you might be able to hear voices.

The voices of four ancient spirits.

"Rock. Paper—"

"We've got no hands, Fundi."

"Oh right, yeah…. Uh… I spy with my little—"

"No eyes either."

"But we can still see, Oda, so we can still play!"

Oda—un-originally named after the Odachi he inhabits— sighed. One would think, after decades of being stuck on a wall in a long forgotten room with three other unusual spirits, he would've gotten used to Fundi's incessant need to be entertained.

But no.

There was no getting used to this.

And he didn't want to get used to this either.

It was driving him mad.

"—Something beginning with 'A'!"

"Ax." Oda didn't hesitate to answer.

"Damn."

Right, after decades of eye-spy, when they couldn't move past the wall they were strapped to, there were only so many things they could use to play the word game with … and only so many weapons starting with 'A'.

Oda sighed again.

"Okay, okay, me next." The red glowing Tonfas beside him chuckled, obviously trying to save Oda from another headache. "Hmmm…" The spirit inhabiting the Tonfas—aptly named Tonfa— hummed thoughtfully. "Ooh I've got it! I spy with my little eye something beginning with—huh?! Turtles?"

Fundi groaned. "Tonfa that isn't how you play—"

"No look." If he could've, he would've pointed at the pile of four humanoid-turtles stacked at the far end of the room having fallen from an old trapdoor tunnel. "Turtles?…and a human!"

Oda quickly snapped to attention at the mention of a human. Yokai and such they were used to. The Baron that owned this building, and subsequently them, was a yokai. His henchmen and gargoyles were also yokai, so turtle yokais weren't anything new. A human however… that was new.

"Oh, do you think they'll want to play eye-spy too?" Fundi beamed, a flicker of fire shivering down his chain in anticipation.

"Draxum says humans are vile, evil creatures." The normally quiet purple Halberd—Hal—muttered nervously, a trembling pulse vibrating around his spiked ball. "What if the human wants to hurt us?"

"What if the human wants to use us for evil?" Tonfa added to Hal's already growing anxiety, a few particles of translucent squares formed around the Tonfas like nervous beads of sweat.

"Humans aren't inherently evil." Oda said calmly. "But if she doesn't get out of here soon, she'll be the one in danger. You know how much the Baron hates humans."

Tonfa's fear subsided, turning into concern instead. "Oh no, the poor thing." He fussed. "We should do something."

"No." Oda said firmly.

"But what if the human—" Hal said in a small unsure voice.

"We cannot make ourselves known." Oda cut in with a tone of age-old wisdom. "We'll just keep an eye on them and hopefully they'll find a way out of here soon."

"I'm sure those turtle yokai will help her." Tonfa agreed.

Fundi lifted up the ball at the end of his chain, a puff of orange fire zipping around the spiked ring through the center, something he only did when he was agitated. "But just watching is booorrrrriiiinnnngggg!"

Oda sent a spark of blue electricity towards the Kusari-Fundo, effectively telling Fundi to stop; they couldn't risk being seen. Fundi lets the fire die, but not before huffing childishly at the Odachi-inhabiting spirit.

Oda chose to ignore him and instead focus on the intruders.

The turtles recovered quickly from the messy pile of limbs and were quick to explore the vast range of sharp and dangerous weapons around them.

"It's like if magic and science had a baby!" The one in a purple mask said as he marveled at the mad-scientist aesthetic.

They sound like children, Oda noted with an inward cringe. Children and weapons do not bode well. Where are these kids' parents!?

"These'll do." Another one of them exclaimed merrily while holding up a pair of nunchucks. Nunchucks weren't too bad, at least they weren't sharp. The turtle would soon throw them down once he realizes just how difficult they are to wield. A few bruises and bumps later and hopefully he'll never pick up a weapon again.

The blue one however…. He just had to pick up a pair of Katanas. He probably saw the shiny sharp blade and saw himself and some kind of ninja. This isn't a game, Oda wanted to yell. But alas he knew the turtles couldn't hear him.

All four turtles and the human danced around the room, each picking weapons they found "cool" or whatnot. And here Oda thought Fundi was the biggest headache. No, these children beat the unruly spirit by a mile. They were reckless, overly-excitable, and completely unaware of the danger they were in by being in Baron Draxum's lab.

But it just had to get worse before it could get better.

Oda knew what the large red one was thinking when his eyes turned to the wall the spirits were strapped to. Like a moth drawn to a lamp, the bright light the spirits emitted had the big one's eyes sparkling with awe. A huge grin spread across his face revealing his singular spiked tooth.

"Don't do it kid," Oda mumbled. "Ignore the urge. Just walk away."

"Oda…" Hal whispered. "I think the big one is looking at us."

"Don't do it kid, don't—"

"Hey yo, guys!" The red one called out loudly to the others, a mischievous smirk on his beak. Oda groaned. "How about we take the glow-y ones?"

Hal inhaled anxiously next to him. "Oh no."

Fundi giggled. "I don't know why you guys are so worried." He said with an air of mischief himself. "They seem fun!"

"Oh, dibs on the sword!" The blue one exclaimed, much to Oda's horror.

"No! No "dibs" on the "sword", do you even know what type of sword I am?" Fundi laughed harder as Oda glowered angrily at the blue‐clad turtle reaching up to him with sparkling eyes "I am an Odachi! Not something a snot-nosed kid like you should lay a finger on— no, stop! Kid seriously, put me down. You'll only hurt yourself!"

"Oh boy!" The blue one gleamed proudly.

"Too late." Fundi laughed as the smallest turtle grabbed with him an equally joyous laugh.

"Hot soup!" The orange one yelled as he struck a pose.

"Hot soup?" Fundi laughed harder. "This kid is funny!"

"Boom!" The red one shouted as he took the Tonfas off the wall next and struck his own fierce pose. "Hahaha!"

"Please be careful, big guy." Tonfa didn't seem all that bothered by the turtle holding him up in the air like a trophy. In fact, much to Oda's dismay, the Tonfas spirit sounded like a proud older brother as the red turtle started shadow-boxing with him.

He expected Fundi to be ignorant of the consequences of children wielding powerful music weapons. But for Tonfa to also take everything in his stride without doubts was surprising… and frustrating.

Surely he could rely on Hal to be sensible. Hal was always sensible, but only because his overactive anxiety and nervousness got the better of him in pretty much every situation.

Oda watched Hal carefully while trying to keep the young turtle from cutting himself as he swung the Odachi around like a stick. He gulped dryly as the human girl took the Halberd off the wall. Then, without a second thought, strode causally towards the final and less excitable purple turtle.

Oda watched apprehensively as Hal started to panic, stuttering incoherently.

"What about you, Donnie?" She swung the Halberd teasingly in front of the turtle. "Don't you want a glow-y weapon?" She asked as if said weapon was as harmless as an inflatable toy.

"No, I'm good." Hal breathed a sigh of relief when the turtle quickly turned down the offer in favor of stroking his mechanical-advanced bo-staff like an overprotective parent. "I'll never let you go." The turtle whispered with a pout.

The human girl shrugged it off, almost as if she expected such an answer and the Halberd went limp at her side.

"Oh, thank goodness." Hal breathed out.

At least one of them is sensible, Oda couldn't help but think as he caught a glimpse of the three other turtles playing ninja by themselves.

Wait, Oda takes it back, this purple one isn't sensible… in fact he's just as clueless as the others as he ponders over a small purple mystic crystal. "This looks interesting, though." He says cheekily as he snatched the crystal and tucked it away, no doubt for later investigation.

"Doesn't he know how dangerous that thing can be!?" Oda mentally face-palmed.

Suddenly they all gathered together and an air of eagerness buzzed around them. Then the red one raised an arm and loudly declared, "Let's go save the dog thingy!"

Oda sighed for the umpteenth time. "These kids are going to give me an aneurysm and kill me all over again."

~End~

#spirits within the weapons #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt au #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt oc #rottmnt original character #tmnt oc #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt april #unpause rise of the tmnt #rottmnt fic

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obsidiancreates · 2 years

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Not As Bad As It Could Be (Gradually Getting Worse) Part 1

(To preface: There's no discernable place in the timeline for this. The timeline is whatever I want it to be, which is why The Farm Arc happened, but I'm writing this with Season 1 and 2 Leo voice/characteristics in mind. So if some timeline things don't add up to canon, just roll with it. It's for plot, and also because I Want To.)

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It's something they're all used to, something that's just as normal to them as the rest of their lives.

When Raph gets angry, really angry, angry enough that he starts to dissociate and almost does things unthinkable, his eyes have a faint blueish-green hue to them. A glow, one could even call it, a very faint one. Like an old TV that was just turned off.

As far as they know, it's just part of his mutation. None of the others have ever really had the same thing, but then again, they all have aspects that are different between them.

Donnie is much taller. Leo has a bluer undertone to his skin. Mikey has freckles. And Raph? Has eyes that change color when he's lost in rage.

Luckily he's pretty good at calming down, with a little help from the others usually, sometimes on his own. He never takes that last step into it, to something irreversible and terrible. And it always fades when he gets back under control.

Donnie always thought, after seeing mutagen itself for the first time, that it was neat that the substance had the same color to it. Same faint glow.

He never really looked into it, though. Because it's just a cosmetic effect of the mutation, not anything major. He just thanks whatever powers may exist in the universe that he and his brothers and Splinter, all things considered, had pretty mild mutations compared to most of their enemies, even some of their allies. Their bodies are closer to humans than any other mutant they've met, and their minds are sound... at least, mostly. Sometimes he has doubts about Mikey and Raph. Sometimes.

Which is maybe why no-one noticed at first.

When his eyes started doing it too.

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"I'm fine," Donnie groans again, batting away Mikey's hand. "Look, see? Shell is healing fine. I'm fine."

"But-"

"Leave him be, Mikey." Leo pats Mikey's shoulder as he joins them on the couch. "We've already checked for infection today. It's one clean crack, what we see is what it is."

"That's not what my medical show said!"

"Your medical show is a cartoon, Mikey."

"Oh, so Captain Ryan doesn't count as wisdom then?"

"What?! Of course he does!"

"So then why doesn't my show count?!"

Donnie sighs fondly as his brothers fight, putting an arm over his shell and wincing. It's been a few days since his... capture, by Vizioso. The rocket that initially took him out had cracked his shell nearly in half, the crack stretching across his plastron from right by his shoulder all the way down and across to the opposite hip. Luckily the crack didn't reach the ends of his shell, so it stayed intact, but...

Then Vizioso had his goons cut along the inside of the crack.

Donnie can only imagine that they intended to, well. Use it as the starting point.

Knowing Vizioso, he probably wanted to crack Donnie open like a lobster tail.

He hugs himself remembering the ordeal, equal parts fear and rage swelling inside of him. If his brothers hadn't gotten there in time...

"Hey. Donnie, come back to us." Donnie blinks out of the memory, looking up at Raph. The guilt on Raph's face is just...

He blames himself for the whole thing. Donnie did too, for a couple hours after he woke up. But it faded. Only one person was actually responsible for the whole thing, Donnie realized rather quickly. If the mob boss could even be called a person.

"I uh, made you some eggs." Raph hands the plate over, clearly being very conscious of not dropping it on Donnie's cracked plastron. "I read they're full of keratin and I guess our shells are made of it too. I woulda added onions but Mikey used 'em all."

"We were out of noodles! Cook onions long enough and it's basically the same thing, dog!"

"Actually, onions are a good replacement for noodles, at least for us. Raph's right, our shells are made of keratin, primarily, and eggs and onions are good sources of it."

"So it'll help your shell heal better!" Leo looks at Raph, impressed. "When did you become the science guy?"

"I just looked up a stupid article," Raph mumbles, sitting in the beanbag chair a few feet away.

"I-I appriciate it Raph, really." Donnie carefully readjusts his sitting position and starts eating. Soon the plate is completely empty, as quickly as if it had been fresh pizza.

"Dude, eat too fast and you'll throw up, and I'm not feeling enough guilt to clean up if you do." They all know that's a lie.

"I think I just really needed the boost." Donnie carefully positions himself to be laying down a little more, and then his face falls. He groans. "Oh, no, does this mean I need a whole keratin-heavy diet for the whole recovery?"

"Not a bad idea, my son."

"WHA!" Donnie jolts at the sudden presence of their Sensei, and immedietely curls up in pain from the sudden movement. Raph sits up like he's going to move in to help, but Donnie waves him off. "Fine, fine, just startled."

"Let me check if the cut reopened." Donnie forces himself to uncurl just long enough for Leo to check. Once he's given the All Clear, he curls up again.

"I'm sorry, Donatello, I did not mean to scare you." Splinter lays a comforting hand on Donnie's shoulder. "I believe you and Raphael are on the right track. Since your shell itself seems to be healing just as your skin does, we must give it all the help we can."

"So... egg pizza?" Mikey suggests. "With lots of onions?"

"Maybe we should all read that article before we set him on a whole diet around it," Leo suggests. "There has to be more than onions and eggs to help him."

"Yeah, I'm not living in the same sewer as him if that's all he eats, it smells bad enough down here."

"Ha-ha, Raph." Donnie rolls his eyes. "That would make me sick, not help me heal. There is such a thing as over-abundance."

Mikey digs a piece of pizza out of a nearby box. "Sounds made-up."

Donnie sighs, and winces again. A sharp pain shoots through his gut.

"Painkiller?" Raph's voice is a little muffled through the ringing in Donnie's ears, but he can still make it out, and nods. Moments later his head is tilted back and painkillers are popped in, along with some water.

They aren't very strong, just what April could buy from her local pharmacy without a prescription. If he had gone to a hospital, he'd probably be on some of the strongest they have.

But he can't go to the hospital.

Freak

Mutant

Mistake

So he has to deal with it.

... But it could be worse. It could always be worse. He shouldn't have to settle for It Could Be Worse.

"Hey, bro, you're spacin' out again!" Mikey waves his hand in front of Donnie's face. "Dude, you spaced out so hard your eyes blanked out!"

"Huh?" Donnie blinks a few times. "Oh, right, s-sorry. Just um. Thinking."

"When aren't you?" Raph mumbles.

"If that's meant to be an insult, it was terrible. If it's a compliment, then thank you."

"Whichever you want it to be, man."

Donnie leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing into the sounds of the lair.

At least if he has to be a mutant freak, he can be one with his family. Again, it's not as bad as it could be.

It could be...

He stifles a groan as another sharp pain shoots through his torso, and he hugs himself tighter like he's trying to push his shell back together by force.

...

... A lot worse.

#tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie 2012 #tmnt fic #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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twst-the-night-away · 2 years

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to a fashion show (Savvy and Rose head to a super swanky fashion show to do some studying for the Film Appreciation club!! ;3)

"Goodness ... I guess knowing Vil Schoenheit has its perks."

Savvy and Rose found their seats in the front row, laps full of bags of freebies and purchases.

"Let's see what we have here." Savvy went through her bag. "I think we've gotten like, twenty different perfume and lotion samples alone, fifteen business cards, six promotional water bottles, five promotional hand sanitizers, so many little labeled boxes of mints, a checkered Plaisantin scarf for Joker because she asked so sweetly, uh ..."

Savvy looked up at Rose and grinned slyly. She could see a shy blush creeping up her friend's cheeks.

"And how many times were you asked to be a model?"

Rose giggled and held up seven fingers.

"Oh, it had to be more times than that." She leaned over. "You didn't accept any of them, did you?"

Rose shook their head firmly. They reached into their own bag and pulled out a T-shirt, then held it up over their chest.

"Yeah, and we got a few of those, too! We'll be smelling good and in style for a long time." Savvy giggles. "And. Well. We're here for Vil, but you can't lie that it wasn't nice to get first pick of the season's new offerings?"

Rose beamed, nodding quickly. Their face suddenly shifted to an expression of surprise, and they held up a hand. Speaking of which!

"What is it, hon?" Savvy leaned over, watching curiously as Rose dug through their bag. Finally, they pulled out a pair of little boxes, and handed one to Savvy.

"Rose. You didn't get me a gift?"

Rose nodded again, freckles nearly glowing with glee. Savvy cooed and leaned over, giving them a big hug even before opening the box.

You don't even know what it is!

"I already know it'll be fabulous."

Savvy carefully opened the box, and gasped when she pushed aside the tissue paper. It was a little silver bracelet with charms of both strawberries and strawberry flowers dangling from it.

"Ohhhhh, Rose, this is the cutest! ... Don't tell me yours is matching?"

Rose nodded, opening their own box so they could put their own bracelet on. Savvy bounced in her seat, nearly giddy.

"Rose! This means we're besties, you know that, right? I'll have to spoil you next time around. But it'll be when you least expect it." Savvy winked and held out her wrist, so Rose could help her put her bracelet on.

"Here, let's get a quick pic of them before the show starts!"

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #friend's ocs #rose #daisy's ocs #savvy laperle #rose you sneaky little darling!#so sly so stealthy #savvy will spoil you for this

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aspenmissing · 9 months

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𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚢 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

Father Gregory's tombstone is covered in creeping vines; Dean, Sam and Theo crouch before it.

"That looks like-" Theo starts.

"It's wormwood. Plant associated with the dead; specifically, the ones that are not at rest. I don't see it growing anywhere else, except over the murdered priest's marker. It's him, Sam"

"Maybe"

"Maybe?" Dean asks.

"Dean, I don't know what to think"

"Okay. You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof"

"How"

"We'll summon Gregory's spirit"

"What? Here? In the church?" Theo asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, we just need a few odds and ends, and that, uh, seance ritual in Dad's journal"

"Oh, a seance, great. Hope Whoopi's available" Dean deadpans.

"That's funny, actually. Seriously. If Father Gregory's spirit is around, a seance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest"

"But if it's an angel, it won't share. Nothing' 'ill happen" Sam says.

"Exactly. That's one of the perks of the job, Sam: we don't have to operate on faith. We can know for sure. Don't you wanna know for sure"

Theo, Dean and Sam leave a small grocery store, Sam holding a paper sack and smiling.

"Dude. I'll admit we've gone pretty ghetto with spell work before, but this takes the cake. I mean, a SpongeBob placemat instead of an altar cloth?"

"We'll just put it SpongeBob side down" Theo says. Sam and Dean laughs, then Sam stops in shock, staring at something across the street: a young man holding a bunch of flowers; a bright white light glow behind him.

"Guys, that's it"

"What?" The twins ask.

"That's the sign!"

"Where?" Dean asks.

"Right there, right behind that guy! That's him, Guys. And we have to stop him. The young man crosses the street; Sam starts to go after him but Dean and Theo stops him.

"Wait a minute" Theo says.

"What are you doing? Let me go"

"You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?"

"Guys, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to stop him"

"Define "stops", huh? I mean, what are you going to do?"

"Guys, please, he's going to hurt someone, you know it"

"All right, come on" Theo says. The young man has gotten into a car and starts it up, pulling away. Dean gets into the driver side of his car and starts it; Theo gets into shotgun; Sam tries to get in the back but the door is locked.

"Dean. Unlock my door"

"You're not killing anyone, Sam. We got this guy; you go do the seance"

"Dean! Theo!"

"You'll thank us" Dean and Theo pulls away, following the young man at a short distance. The man stops at a corner and gets out with the bunch of flowers, handing them to a woman waiting on the corner. They both get in the car and drive off again.

Kneeling before Gregory's grave, Sam has the spell materials spread out: a circle of small white candles, a large black candle in the middle, the placemat, and the journal. He lights the candles, picks up John's journal, and reads.

"Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere

aput nos circita"(Beloved hidden spirit. We seek you; we beg you. Come speak with us. Join our circle- Loose Translation) He sprinkles some herb on the black candle and it flares once, brightly.

"What are you doing? What is this?" Father. Reynolds asks as he enters.

"Uh, Father, please. I can explain. Um...actually, maybe I can't. Um. This is a, a seance"

"A seance? Young man, you are in the House of God"

"It's based on early Christian rites, if that helps any"

"Enough. You're coming with me"

"Father, please, you, just wait a second!" As Fr. Reynolds pulls Sam to the exit, a familiar bright glow builds behind them. They turn, Fr. Reynolds in awe, Sam is disappointment"

"Oh my god! Is that...is that an angel?"

"No, it's not. It's just Father Gregory" The bright glow dims and coalesces to reveal a young, handsome priest.

"Thomas?!"

"I've come in answer to your prayers” During this, Dean and Theo continue to follow the supposedly evil young man. Sam approaches the Gregory-spirit cautiously.

"Sam. I thought I sent you on your path. You should hurry"

"Father, I'm sorry. But you're not an angel"

"Of course, I am"

"No. You're a man. You're a spirit. And you need to rest"

"I was a man. But now I'm an angel. I was on the steps of the church. And I felt that bullet pierce right through me. But there was no pain. And suddenly I could see . . .everything. Father Reynolds, I saw you, praying and crying here. I came to help you"

"Help me how?" Fr. Reynolds asks.

The allegedly evil young man turns down a dark alley and the twins’ losses sight of him. Dean slams the steering wheel in frustration.

"Dammit!"

"We can't stop now"

"Those murder-that was because of you?" Fr. Reynolds asks.

"I received the Word of God. He spoke to me, told me to smite the wicked. I'm carrying out his will"

"You're driving innocent people to kill"

"Those innocent people are being offered redemption. Some people need redemption. Don's they, Sam?" Sam looks away, touched a nerve.

"How can you call this redemption"

"You can't understand it now. But the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things"

"Those people. They're locked up" Sam says.

"No, they're happy. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to heaven"

"No. No, this is vengeance, it's wrong. Thomas, this goes against everything you believed. You're lost, misguided"

"Father. No, I'm not misguided" Fr. Gregory says.

"You are not an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels"

"But...but I, I don't understand. You prayed for me to come"

"I prayed for God's help. Not this. What you're doing is not God's will. "Thou shalt not kill". "That's the word of God"

The supposedly evil young man stops the car; the young woman holding the flowers looks confused, smiles nervously.

"How come we stopped" The supposedly evil young man smiles back more nervously, his eye twitching. He leans over suddenly and kisses her. She fends him off with a laugh "Um, weren't we going to go to the movies? Ah- we should go, or we're going to be late" Suddenly the evil young man hits her, hard, across the face. She yelps in shock.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it's just I've never done this before" She tries to get out of the car, but he's locked the door and she scrabbles uselessly at the handle "Look, I said I was sorry!"

"Please" The man pulls out a knife "What?" He lunges at her with the knife; she tries to fight him off. They struggle for a few seconds.

"No. N--Stop it!" The window shatters behind his head; Theo reaches in, punches in, and slams his face into the steering wheel. Theo unlocks the door and the woman gets out; Dean helps her out and holds her close. Theo tumbles over the hood to reach her, looking her over.

"Are you okay? Are you okay?!" She asks.

"Thank god!" The woman cries. Behind them, the evil young man has come to and started the car; he drives off.

"Dammit! Are you sure you’re, okay? Do you have a cell phone?" Dean asks. The woman nods, still sobbing "Call 9-1-1!" Dean and Theo run off and gets into the car to chase after the young man again.

Fr. Gregory is staring, bewildered, at his own headstone. He turns to face Reynolds and Sam.

"Let us help you" Sam says.

"No"

"It's time to rest, Thomas, to be at peace. Please, let me give you Last Rites" Fr. Gregory nods in resignation; Reynolds lifts his hands in prayer "Oh Holy Hosts above, I call upon thee as a servant of Christ to sanctify out actions this day, in fulfilment of the will of God" Reynolds gasps as Gregory flickers like a distorted image.

"Father Reynolds?" Gregory says.

"Rest" Gregory kneels; Reynolds holds a hand over Gregory's forehead "I

call upon the Archangel Raphael, Master of the Air, to make open the way. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend, that this being might be awakened to the world beyond" Fr. Gregory glows brightly, then vanishes to a short soft chorus. Reynolds lowers his hand in awe.

Dean and Theo are chasing the evil young man at a more frantic rate now, Dean grips the steering wheel tightly and Theo watches the cars every move. They cut across lanes, over grass, and generally cause mayhem; at a cross-street, a small pickup truck carrying long metal pipes screeches to a halt in front of the man's car. A pipe spins off the truck bed, bouncing once on the ground and ploughing straight through his windshield. It impales him straight through the chest. Dean stops the car in shock and gets out, followed by Theo with widened eyes.

"Holy..."

"...Shit"

Sam is packing. Dean and Theo approaches the room and enters from outside.

"How was your day?" She asks.

"You were right. It wasn't an angel. It was Gregory" Sam says, sadly, dully, demoralized. Theo pulls the flask from her inner pocket, takes a drink, then considering, offers it to Sam. Sam takes it "I don't know, Guys, I just, uh..." Sam sits on the bed "I want to believe...so badly, ah...It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. You're all alone, you know? And... there’s so much evil out there in the world, Guys, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up..." Dean and Theo sits on either side of Sam.

"Yeah, well, don't worry about that. All right? We're watching out for you"

"Yeah, I know you are. But you're just two people, Guys. And I needed to think that there was something else, watching too, you know? Some higher power. Some greater good. And that maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Theo asks.

"Maybe I could be saved" Sam nervously laughs "But, uh, you know, that just clouded my judgment, and you're right. I mean, we've gotta go with what we know, with what we can see, with what's right in front of our own two eyes"

"Yeah, well, it's funny you say that" Dean says, sharing a glance at Theo.

"Why?" Sam asks.

"Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information. That guy in the car was bad news. We barely got there in time"

"What happened?" Sam asks.

"He's dead"

"Did...you?"

"No. But we'll tell you one thing. If...the way he died, if we hadn't seen it without own two eyes we never would have believed it. I mean...I don't know what to call it"

"What? Guys, what did you see?"

"Maybe...God's will"

#supernatural #older sister winchester #oc insert #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom

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sommer-girl · 1 year

Text

The Hiring Process | Self Para

Date: Late April 2023 Warnings: None

Anna gets an update on her application to the Town Hall position.

Ever since she'd submitted the application for the position Pepa mentioned, Anna had watched her phone and email like a hawk. This could be it, her future, finally falling into place like all the adults said it would (she had really tried to believe them, but it was hard to keep that kind of energy up when she had still heard nothing back from Fremover and she didn't really have any backup plans). And finally, walking back to her dorm after her Wars of Ancient Magick History class had let out, Anna had gotten a call from an unfamiliar number.

"Hello, this is Anna Sommers!" Anna said, bracing herself for the inevitable robo-voice that would tell her they'd been trying to reach her concerning her car's extended warranty.

But instead, it was a different voice on the end of the line. A familiar voice.

"Anna! Lovely, this is Skip Rogers, Assistant for the Department of Administrative Adjudication. I'm calling about your application to our open position in the Department of Events and Programming."

Anna's heart raced. Her voice came out a little strangled as she tried to sound cheerful and not at all like she was about to throw up. "Oh?" she squeaked. "That's, er, great! Thank you, uh, for reaching out!"

Good job, Anna, she thought. You sound so normal.

"Right, so, here's the thing. We really loved your application, but we've actually got another position open here that we think you might be better suited for," Skip continued.

"Oh!" Anna said again, and she was still mentally kicking herself as though Skip might change his mind about this whole thing given how Anna could barely string words together on this simple phone call.

It wasn't a simple phone call, though. It was her whole future, hanging on a wire that was being dangled over a fifty-foot drop by none other than Skip Rogers, formerly known as RA Skip, currently known as the Intern for the Department of Administrative Adjudication.

Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Did it mean that Fairy Godmother had disliked Anna's application so much that she'd tossed it to another department, or was Skip's boss clamoring to get Anna onto their team? What did it mean?!

"That is, if you'd still be interested," Skip added.

"Yes, yes, of course!" Anna said quickly, her voice still unnaturally high. "What, er, what is the position?"

She stopped walking and ducked behind an academic building, but then Anna began pacing back and forth again, still restless.

"It would be for my job, actually," Skip said proudly. "Assistant for the Department of Administrative Adjudication. I'm going to be promoted!"

"Oh!" God, could she find any other way to react to news?! Also... she wasn't even clear on what Skip's job was. She knew he worked at Town Hall and that he ran meetings sometimes, but other than that— anyway, she'd figure it out. She just needed a job. Right? "Um, that's really interesting. I'd love to hear more about the position— congratulations on the promotion, by the way."

"Thank you," Skip replied, and Anna could practically hear the glow in his tone through the phone. "We were thinking, actually, perhaps you could come down to the office and we could show you around. And then we'd just do your interview the same day. Two Gryphons with one stone!"

Now that was a thought that really made Anna want to throw up. But she had to say yes. She didn't have a choice, did she? "Um, yeah, that's a great idea," she stammered, feeling a bit like she'd been dunked under freezing water and now she was fighting for air.

"Brilliant! I'll send you an email and we can find a time that works. There's no rush, as I know your start date wouldn't be until June, considering your school schedule. But we're just quite eager to begin the process, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Uh, yeah," Anna managed to reply. She had always thought this moment would make her feel a sense of relief, finally getting a job interview, but instead, she just felt more anxious than ever. Was this adulthood? Anxieties breeding anxieties breeding anxieties?

Why couldn't she just stay in uni forever?

"Thanks, Skip," Anna added, and he thanked her too before hanging up the phone. Anna sank to the ground and stared at her phone screen. "This is really exciting," she whispered to herself, as though trying to convince herself. "This is what you wanted. It's finally happening. This is exciting."

She thought about texting Elsa just to seal the deal, but something stopped her. She didn't know what. Then she began composing a text to Eilonwy, which she deleted, and then she almost wrote a Tweet, and then she knew it was a bad idea. Finally, an email popped up from Skip, and Anna began typing out a shaky reply.

Hi Skip! No. Dear Skip, Maybe... better?

I am so excited to take the next step in this process.

She just had to say it enough times.

#self para

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awoken-lights · 1 year

Note

“You look nice today– did your antennae just wiggle when I said that?” | hmm maybe from Prose to Jazzy, I gotta get Prose out more lol. up to u how established their friendship/anythin beyond is!

Jazzy-8, unlike his brother, did take some pride in his appearance. Only some, because with how he tended to fight, he usually needed to have multiple gear sets at the ready in case he ruined one with his own light and (minor, he'd say) recklessness. However, it was a lot easier to look nice while off duty, and while he didn't look fancy, he had been quite pleased of his look.

Even so, hearing someone else say that he looked nice made him happy in a way he couldn't quite explain. Since he couldn't smile, the electric blue of his mouth glowed a bit brighter at the compliment. His antenna wiggling was not intentional though, and his lights turned a bit more purple when Prose pointed them out. "Uh, don't pay too much attention to that. I did get thrown pretty hard last time I was out on a mission, something might've gotten knocked a bit loose." An easy, warm chuckle left him, though he had no idea if Prose would believe the....improbable truth (he really had been thrown hard in his last mission, but he doubted something was knocked loose).

Even so, he gave a little bow. "I'm glad you like the fit though. One can't always be fighting you know. We've got to enjoy our lives while we can. The bracelet is especially cool." Holding his wrist out so that Prose could get a better look, he pressed a tiny button on the underside of it, and a small compartment disguised as a pendant opened up. "Pretty cool, right?"

#i will be better. i will live this time || jazzy-8 - main #lxghtbound #lxghtbound || prose

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wrenreid · 2 years

Text

Conflict of Interest

18+ content warning for this story

Chapter Thirteen: The Morning After

You lay with your head on Spencer's chest as the sun shines in through the blinds on his windows. You'd both woken up a few minutes ago and decided to stay in bed. This is the first time you've spent the night with someone in a long time.

"Tell me more about yourself," he says softly. The sleepiness in his voice is adorable and sexy at the same time.

"Why?" You chuckle.

"Because I want to know more about you. I'm a learner, remember?"

You nod with a soft smile. You tell Spencer a little about your family and how you were growing up. "And I got this scar by getting my dog untangled from a barbed wire fence," you show him your arm.

Spencer traces his fingers over it gently. "Ouch. Guess you're a natural born saver."

"I guess so," you smile. "What about you? How'd you get that scar on your leg?"

Spencer's face changes but you can't really see it from your place on his chest. "I-uh... a case. I got stabbed."

"Oh makes sense... have you been hurt a lot on cases?"

"Depends on what you consider a lot. Over ten? Yes. Over 30? no."

"Ah gotcha," you nod. "Did you always know you wanted to be an agent?"

Spencer shakes his head. "No. I wanted to be a magician. Then I wanted to be a scientist. Then... well it's quite a long list."

"I think it's pretty cool that you've been able to have so many options. Not very many people can say they do."

He nods gently. "I guess I'm lucky."

"You're brilliant, Spencer."

A soft smile creeps up on his face. There's no way he hasn't been told this a million times, but somehow your words still make him smile. "Was there any other options for you? Or was it always this."

"I had so many dreams as a kid," you chuckle softly. "Like a ridiculous amount."

"Like what?"

"Astronaut, pilot, author, president..."

"Wow. That's pretty badass of you," he grins.

"When I started reading about criminal psychology, I just knew. And thank God I picked up those books because it's landed me a permanent friendship, self defense lessons, and a sexy teacher."

A soft pink blush glows on his cheeks. "Yeah you're pretty lucky on that one," Spencer jokes. "I assume you're talking about Nina on the first one?"

"Yes sir. We've gotten really close. They're amazing."

"They're?"

"Yeah. Nina goes by she/they."

"Ohh. Okay I'll keep that in mind," Spencer says.

You give him a soft smile and kiss his lips just because he looks so damn good. He smiles as you pull away from the kiss, and with the corners of his lips pulled up and his eyes closed he looks absolutely gorgeous. You enjoy seeing Spencer like this, vulnerable and relaxed. Usually, he's reserved, you can tell he doesn't let people in easily.

"Tell me about your family... if you feel comfortable of course," you say as you prop your arms under your chin, looking up at his face, taking in all of his features.

Spencer's cheeks turn a little red, this happens a lot you've noticed. "Well, not much to say. It's just me and my mom." He gives a soft smile and you already know she means the world to him.

"Has it always been that way?"

"No. Not physically at least. My dad left when I was 10."

"Oh, Spencer I'm sorry," you say softly, rubbing his chest slowly.

"It's alright. We animals learn to adapt and grow."

You give Spencer a nod and a soft, supportive smile. "That we do."

"What division do you think you're going to go into after you graduate?" He asks, looking down at you with hazel eyes.

"Honestly, I'll apply to wherever there's openings. I'm just a little worried that I won't be wanted. I mean, there's so many people in this program."

"Don't say that. You're incredible."

"Says the genius who didn't even have to apply to the BAU."

"Okay, fair point. I'm serious though, even if there aren't openings, teams grow all the time. I believe there's never too many brains on board."

A small smile grows on your lips. "I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right."

"Oh cocky," you suppress a giggle.

"You love it."

"Hmm. No."

"Hmm. Yes."

"Perhaps I enjoy it a little," you roll your eyes.

Spencer chuckles softly, his eyes still on your face.

You want to tease him about staring, but then you decide to ask about the picture on his nightstand. You'd noticed it a little bit before but didn't pry. The picture of him and two little blonde boys makes you both smile and your heart burn at one simple question in your head. Are they his? He'd never mentioned having kids before, but what if they came from a poor relationship? It's not like you really know a whole lot about him. God, you hope they aren't his kids. The thought makes a twist of guilt sting inside your stomach.

"Wh-who are they?" You point to the picture.

Spencer looks back at the frame even though he knows exactly who you're talking about. A smile creeps up on his lips. "My godsons. JJ, one of my best friends and coworkers decided to make me the godfather of her kids."

You have to hold in a sigh of relief. "Oh," you give him a small smile. "That's really sweet."

"Yeah. They're amazing. Michael turns 3 this year."

"Awh. They're really cute."

"Are you fan a children?"

"Sometimes," you chuckle. "The crotch goblins who act like heathens, definitely not."

"Crotch goblins?" A laugh comes from Spencer's lips.

"Yeah. Kids can be creatures, and they come from the cr-"

"Yeah, I got it," he laughs again.

You smile smugly, shrugging. "I should probably get going soon. Nina's going to think my date murdered me."

"Did you tell them?"

"No. I said I was going on a date with some woman I met earlier."

"Ah," he nods. His phone goes off for the second time that morning.

"Case?"

He checks it. "Nope. Team night out. Luke says to 'Bring the girl or guy.' They all think I'm seeing someone."

"Technically you are," you chuckle.

"I am, but they don't need to know that. Especially because of our situation. I would never hear the end of it."

"I wouldn't either if my brothers found out." You tell him, sitting up on his bed and stretching. You're in a t shirt Spencer gave you to sleep in the night before. "I should get ready," you frown.

Spencer nods. "I think your clothes are somewhere in that vicinity," he chuckles, gesturing toward the floor near his dresser.

You stand up and find your clothes. You pull off his t shirt, turning around even though he's seen you naked before. After slipping into your bra and underwear, you step back into the dress which is pretty damn wrinkled from last night.

"Well these are ruined," you laugh softly, holding up the fishnet tights.

"Sorry about that."

"No worries. You ripping them was pretty hot."

A pink blush shines on his cheeks. "Noted."

After pulling on your heels and attempting to finger comb through your hair, you start a goodbye.

"I'll walk you out," Spencer stands up. He's in a t shirt and boxers.

"Why thank you kind sir," you say dramatically as the two of you reach his front door, your bag in your hands.

"And thank you, m'lady," Spencer does a little bow and almost trips which makes you giggle. He leans down, kissing you softly. Normally, people in a 'purely physical, no strings attached' relationship don't kiss outside of sex, but you're not like that for some reason.

"Bye, Spencer."

"See you soon?"

"Yes sir."

With that, you leave his apartment and make your way down to his car.

"Holy shit. You got fucked," Nina laughs as you walk into your shared dorm room.

A deep blush creeps up on your cheeks. "Maybe. Your tights are kind of... ruined now. Sorry."

"It's okay I suppose. Well worth it. Tell me all about it."

"I don't kiss and tell, Nina."

"The hell you don't."

chapter fourteen

tags: @reidscake @reidsmilf @reidslovely @awhoreforspencerreid @sexualityisajoke @nomajdetective @kenreadsfanfics @assemblemotherfuckers @calicocatty @hotchandspencearedilfs @kodiakwhiskey @rory-cakes @kbakery <3

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 3 years

Text

We Met Within This Screen (final chapter, pt. 1)

note: ooh here it is, the beginning of the end. I'm not very sure about the quality of this lol-

Donnie couldn't be out long. There was only so much time until the others noticed he was missing and came looking, and in such a tense moment as this was, he didn't know how he'd handle the three of them showing up. All he needed was a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

As he ran the rooftops, he was extra vigilant of his surroundings. Since the last assault, he knew he had to stay on guard, but waiting was simply not an option. As he neared her apartment complex, he could see in the distance a familiar sight; her, on the balcony. He couldn't believe what was happening. That he was running toward her and not away. She looked around, checking everywhere she could think of, but she could not see him. Only his tall shadow on the wall as he slipped into the cover of an adjacent building, perched next to a water tower and watching. In that moment, part of him in the recesses of his mind decided that the soft light of night had a way of making a person look positively ethereal.

He crept closer to the edge, just into sight, and waited.

Now or never, he told himself, leaping ever closer. She was only about twenty feet away, now, him obscured by a door leading to the stairwell he stood behind. The sound of his previous lofty drop into the concrete seemed to have snatched her attention, as he'd noticed, peering around the corner. And so she grabbed the railing and called out distinctly, "Come out, Bo!"

It was silent for a disconcerting amount of time. There was only him and her, the physical gap between them, and then where he hid in the dark.

No more secrets, no more secrets, he repeated, trying to turn his nerves into some kind of hype. The affirmation had no effect on him as it did Mikey, who he'd seen use the "technique" frequently. He still tried it.

"Show yourself," he heard her say, though her tone was not much of a demand. She was just as uncertain as he was.

Not yet could he step out. He hesitated before responding, "Donatello," still from behind the door. She struggled to reply, and when she didn't say anything, he added, "Donatello...that's my name." And with one last burst of courage, he stepped out.

She found herself stuck where she was as he slowly approached, unable to see the details of his face. She squinted. The gear on his back and head glinted in the light. There was a slight hunch in his posture, possibly from the large shell on his back, possibly from the added weight of the gear, possibly because he was trying to look a little smaller. He was conscious of his gait, his posture—his posture, especially—his own body language. He made the effort to straighten out just a bit. Whether she paid attention to those things was beyond him, but it was an unconscious accommodation.

Unblinking, her eyes locked with his, held by each other's gaze. The last thing we wanted to get caught up on was his boyish affection for her (that was how he saw it), but she was simply everything he'd imagined, and more. Impossible to not stare at. He stopped some ways from her and anticipated the reaction he was going to receive.

Her hands loosened their grips on the railing. "You're…" she trailed off, as if trying to find the right words. He shifted in discomfort. "...a turtle," she said breathily, finally able to say it.

"Um...a red-eared slider, to be exact, if you want to be specific," he added quickly, and it made her remember the time he'd told her fun facts about the particular species.

Nerves firing, Donnie resisted the urge to squirm or pace as he did when he was uncomfortable. She knew him in his entirety, now. He did not feel the release he thought he would have upon revealing himself. No, he felt restless. The more time they went not speaking a word, the more he was forcefully grounded right then and there. His attention diverted to her appearance. She was beautiful—one of the most beautiful people he'd seen. And he'd seen plenty of people in his life, but he was held hostage by her and her alone in that moment. Everything around them seemed to fade out.

But the silence couldn't go on forever; one of them had to speak. Both had to confront each other.

He decided an apology was in order. Naturally, he possessed a twinge of guilt for leading her on in a way. "I'm sorry I made you think I was someone that I'm not, [y/n]."

Her hands left the railing and fell to her sides. "Donatello, I—"

"You can just call me Donnie. Please."

She nodded and looked down. Her brows knitted, though not in anger. "Donnie...this is so weird," she said, and his chest tightened. "How?" she asked. He was a little confused by her question, and she went on upon seeing the quizzical look on his face. "How do you exist? Where did you come from?"

He couldn't answer immediately; the story was awkwardly long to be standing out in the open. So he took a small easy step forward, asking for permission to enter the apartment, which felt wholly unnatural. He also didn't want to encroach on her or her space.

Instinctually, his hand drew up towards his neck, where he started rubbing yet again. "The story, it's kind of...complicated. And I can't stay out here too long," he said, motioning at their surroundings, "do you mind if we…?" He was hesitant to even finish that sentence.

"Go in?" she inferred. For a second, he thought she seemed to be seriously thinking about it. I wouldn't be so quick to invite a six-and-a-half foot tall talking terrapin into my home, either.

"Ah—just for now, I'm sorry, I know it's weird and you're probably uncomfortable—"

She shook her head, walking back to the door before sliding it open with some reluctance. "Uh, you can. I just...I'm trusting you right now, Donatello."

He mustered up a slight smile, but it didn't last as she leaned over the railing and held out her hand. For him to take. He wasn't totally sure what to do with himself otherwise as he took the hint and placed his large hand in her smaller one, stepping over the (for him) short gap onto the balcony. Her hand was unmistakably warm against his cool scales. The gesture made his heart flutter, even though he could have gotten across by himself with no issue. He didn't notice how firmly he held her hand until she let go.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, sliding the door open and stepping aside. He had to duck his head underneath the door frame.

Inside the apartment was warm. Warm everything, actually; the only light was the pale yellow glow of the lamps in the living room. He forgot momentarily the circumstances and his eyes wandered the room, finding traces of her personality wherever he could. He noticed the books on the shelf next to them and searched through his own mind library to see if he knew any of the titles. He also took note of whatever the show that was playing on the TV, the scattered knick-knacks, and other telling items. If it weren't for the homely atmosphere, he would have felt like an unwanted intruder, but he was only fairly uncomfortable once he was brought back by the sound of her clearing her throat.

"Oh," he muttered politely, sidestepping out of her way. "Sorry, I've just only ever seen this place from the outside." He continued looking around the room and absorbing information as was his habit.

"Huh?" She quickly turned toward him.

Donnie, sometimes I wish you wouldn't open your mouth, he grilled himself, and instantly went into minor panic-mode in explaining himself. "Well, I—you see, I was out, and…"

She crossed her arms, taking a subtle step back.

She's going to think I'm a stalker!

"It was by pure coincidence!" he exclaimed, holding out his hands nervously. "We took down some bad guys trying to rob a place nearby, and apparently you heard something?" He carefully watched her expression. "You texted me immediately afterwards saying you did, so I just...put it together."

She dropped her arms and seemed to have a revelation. "That's what I heard! And you...took them down?"

He straightened up, one of his hands idly adjusting one of the straps around his shoulder. If he was really doing this, telling her, he'd lay it all out tonight.

"Yeah, my brothers and I. That's what we do. We stop bad guys."

Shoulders losing their tension, she stared at him with a peculiar expression, long enough for him to question what she was thinking. She started, "You never said you had brothers. Or that you fight crime." He gave her a half-smile. "But you also never said where you came from."

"It might take a while to explain."

"We've got plenty of time."

He soon was whisked away into recounting, and forgot that he was missing from home.

Tag list: @spaceman-main @kokokatsworld @criminaly-supernatural @sheepdarkhours @dianounais

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aimasup · 4 years

Text

Ok so from this first part I've decided to finally throw in my headcanon version of Roman and Remus when Thomas was a kid.

(Next here and next here)

@miraculousglitter

But first here's a fic as my headcanon on how they split (Tw gore and angst) :

The Seperation (oneshot)

Fun sniffled. "So... so you're saying... I need to be better...?"

Heart stared. No! No, no, no no! What was happening? Fun never cried. He never let the most piercing of insults get to him. He was always the bounciest of the Sides, bold and daring, without a care in the world. The log to lean on.

And now tears were pouring down his face.

"Fun, please, I never said that! That's not what I meant!" Heart placed his hands on Fun's shoulders, feeling like he was going to tear up himself. Somehow, he had made the unstoppable force that was the royal King Fun cry. He mentally kicked himself.

"I would never think any less of you for anything you do. Everyone else thinks so too. We all love you for who you are!" he said.

"It's just... the things you say and do sometimes. We don't hate you for doing them, what we hate is the things that get Thomas in trouble. That's what we don't want."Heart pulled Fun into a tight hug.

"It's nothing to do with you. Please don't cry." Heart choked. "You're perfect."

Fun gulped down tears. "So.. so.. so it's a - a problem? That we can f - fix?"

Heart had never thought of it that way, but as always, Fun was a brilliant Side. "Y - yeah! You're right! Maybe we can fix this! L - like a cold, or - or a bad knee owie...."

They dissolved into silence. Fun sat on his knees, tear marks still left on his tanned face. Heart had joined him on the bedroom floor and let go of him, but still kept a gentle hold on his hands.

Fun knew what Heart said was true. But the overwhelming aura of his room was pressing in on him from all directions. What no one realized was that Heart was one of Thomas' strongest sides. His room was especially influential. It would constantly shift and change to any emotion, subconscious or not.

Heart was scared.

Not of him, clearly, but Fun knew what else he was scared of. It was true. He had bad things and bad thoughts in him, and they needed to go. Then, everything would be better and everyone would love him again.

Fun hiccuped. "S - so, should we.. get Learning?" He was the one who named everyone. In his chest he knew these names weren't very 'clever' but given Thomas' limited vocabulary they were his best efforts.

Heart considered this. He shook his head.

"I dunno. I'm not sure how he can help. But I do know we're supposed to... uh...separate the problem. Separate...we could just separate the bad stuff! Right!" he said excitedly.

Fun furrowed his brow in deep thought, which was rare for the Side. "Se...perate? How?"

Heart's face dropped. He plopped back onto the floor, where he had previously stood up in a 'eureka' moment.

"... I dunno."

They sat there, pondering some more.

Fun glanced over unsurely at Heart. He noticed the unnaturally tired look on his features. Heart was clearly trying so hard to come up with a solution, which was a problem because that wasn't his job. He wasn't supposed to solve objective issues, which would surely tire him out further than Fun already had.

Fun looked at the ground. He stood up, catching Heart's attention.

"Fun?"

Everything was wrong. Was he wrong? No, it had to be the bad things, but wouldn't that make it him as well technically? Was he bad? Were the thoughts bad?

He took deep breaths, that quickened the more he thought about everything that happened in the past few years. All his friends' thoughts, all his doubts, all of the troubles because of him.

He had to banish the bad thoughts. Banish the bad thoughts. Get rid of them. Get rid of the things ruining everyone's lives.

Get rid of the things that tarnished his otherwise perfect image. Get rid of the ideas he wasn't supposed to enjoy because they were gross and wrong. Get rid of the scary stuff that would make his friends sad.

Fun choked. Rip it out. Kick it out of his body. He was supposed to extract it like a spider nest in his rib cage - no! Gross, bad, scary! You're scary, you're not me!

But why didn't it feel like it was coming out? Something was tearing away, but it wasn't a something else, it was... him.

Heart stared in horror as Fun stumbled and caught on his own feet. He was clutching at his hair and silently choking. Unholy gargled whimpers escaped his throat as golden bile bubbled out of his throat, under bloodshot, teary eyes.

Get rid of the bad things! They're awful, they're not you! They're not me!

I'm not you?

You're not me! You're you!

But I'm you! I'm me!

No! I'm me! Shut up! I'm tearing! It hurts!

No, I'm tearing, you're tearing!

Leave me! I'm leaving!

Fine!

"I don't need you!" Fun screamed in a horrific layered voice, raw and primal. "You're going away!"

Heart was crying. He didn't know what to do, his friend was in a bad shape, nothing was done about it.

"I'm leaving! Fine, I'm leaving! Gone, I'm leaving! We're leaving!" Like a madman, Fun clawed at the carpet rapidly, oozing gold and black down his center. Thin red lines crept into view with bone cracking noises, the liquids stained the floor and his beautiful grey outfit, his pupils changed color, his layered voice grew more and more divided by the minute until he tore.

Right down the middle.

Heart screamed.

What fell onto the carpets were two different shapes. One hit the floor with a soft thud, with more grace and beauty Heart had ever seen. The other hit the carpet with a greasy splat, smelling as it looked.

Heart was still unsure of the situation. With heaving breaths, he scrambled over to help up the one who looked the most like his friend. He still didn't know what to do at the moment, but he just wanted to hold Fun in his arms and comfort him.

"Fun? Fun! Please, answer me, please! I'm sorry, please, wake up..." Heart shook him. "Please, please, please, please," he chanted, then broke out a little sob. "Please?"

The Fun in his arms stirred. Bleary eyes blinked and then shot wide open. "Heart!" he gasped.

Heart also gasped, staring at the face that sort of looked like Fun. Somehow he had completely different features, and his eyes were pure ruby red, but his hair and his clothes were so similar. It was definitely his rustic, bold Fun, but every move looked like a gentle dance instead of a determined lead. His voice was more airy and full of song, more than usual.

The two Sides stared at each other, still in each other's arms. A wet splat alerted them. Their heads whipped around to the noise.

To their horror, a...figure emerged from the black oily heap on the carpet. The figure shone ebony and dripped all over the thing. Somehow it was a mockery of Fun's image, but Heart couldn't help but be drawn to recognize him too.

They stared, and as it advanced slowly, the red one screamed in fright. "No! What is that?!"

Heart and his room were pounding. The answer spilled out before he could stop it, but he didn't care. "That's the bad stuff! It must have worked!"

He took up Fun's hands, now absolutely sure that it was him. "The stuff is gone! Please, don't look so doubtful, we're a family, we've always been!" Pulling him into a hug, Heart laughed in relief. Completely unaware of how his 'Fun' was feeling through all this.

The oily figure reared its head, revealing a terrifying smile and two glowing green eyes. It stumbled over itself and fell, a high, ugly voice tearing out of its orifices. "Heart!"

Heart let go of Fun and they hurried to their feet and backed off, realizing the sludge figure was still in their room. They stared at it with bated breath, like it was a cockroach ready to take flight after them. Their expressions were contorted by fear.

From the ground, it tried and failed to reach out to them. "Heart! I'm here, I've gotten rid of the bad stuff! Heart! Please, Heart!"

But they were already bolting out the room, Fun in Heart's tow. With a yelp, they had fled, calling for Learning and Careful.

The demonic creature sat in silence. Then it started laughing, cackling, a noise that was the stuff of nightmares. Tears streamed down its cheeks, smile permanently etched on its face, its shoulders shaking.

A small, crouched monster with yellow snake eyes silently watched the broken thing crumble from the doorway.

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roseverdict · 2 years

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SO UH. I DIDN'T THINK THIS WOULD HAPPEN BUT I ACCIDENTALLY HAMMERED OUT UHHH A SIZABLE CHUNK OF BATIM FIC. I WAS LAST FIXATED IN 2017. IDK HOW THIS HAPPENED

i blame this little plot bunny, among others:

anyway here's a lil contextless ficlet because i've clearly lost all control of my life. basically it's part of the Big Final Showdown at the end of one of those "what if we TOOK THE HELL'S STUDIO AU GANG and we CROSSED THEM OVER WITH CANON for FIX-IT FIC REASONS" types of fics

(setup: everybody has come running down to what WOULD be the throne room in canon. it's still the throne room it's just that we've successfully gotten "bendy" to Not Want To Commit Violence so canon!joey is there instead, intent on putting his little time loop prison back into motion. he has a nice little villain monologue, exerting his power and influence as he does…)

"…and as for you interlopers," he hissed, "well…what are a few more Searchers in my world? Yes…you will all do quite-"

The monster of a man froze, one ink-covered ear perking up. "…what is that horrible racket?"

Henry glanced around warily, and around him, his counterpart and the rest of the expanded rescue team did the same. For a brief moment, he heard nothing but the dripping of ink and the creaking of far-off machinery.

Then Joey's voice, his Joey's voice, came echoing down from a higher floor.

At first, Henry thought he was screaming, but as the voice drew nearer, he realized Joey wasn't screaming.

He was cheering.

Laughter and even excited whoops grew louder and louder as a silvery glow began peeking out through a tunnel high above them all. The Joey from this world whirled around, pointed teeth exposed and lips drawn back in a snarl-!

-and with a drawn out "YAAAHOOOOOO!" his counterpart came shooting out into open air, the shimmering light that came with him solidifying into flailing limbs and a wildly-grinning face, mere moments before he slammed into the ink on the floor and tumbled to a stop.

"…what."

Henry's Joey didn't seem to hear his darker counterpart, instead shaking his head and patting himself over. "I…am…not dead!" He leapt to his feet with a grin, one hand on his hip and the other pointing to the ceiling. "That was rather exhilarating, actually! It took a bit longer than I’d intended to get in, since somebody shut the door after the ritual proper was completed, but what a rush! Honestly, was that what it felt like for-?"

Henry couldn't stop a small smile from growing on his face as his best friend prattled on and the residents of this studio gaped at him. Other-Joey may have been using his friend’s face, but the malevolence oozing from him was something that could never come from the man who’d fixed as many mistakes as he made.

Even so, Joey, for all that he had trouble reading the body language of others, eventually realized something was up. "…and…uh…why is everybody looking at me like that?"

Other-Joey burst into laughter, his voice warping and twisting as he cackled. "THIS IS MY COUNTERPART? THIS BUMBLING FOOL? AND YOU WOULD PRESUME TO DEFEAT ME ANYWAY?!"

An uncharacteristic (but, frankly, completely understandable, at least in Henry’s humble opinion) stony expression found its way onto Joey’s face, and he turned around to give his doppelganger a once-over. “And who are you supposed to be? Some kind of, I don’t know, power-hungry nutjob out to control the world or something?”

“Of course not!” Other-Joey scoffed. “I am everything you could have been! I am the best of you made better! The worst of you purged away!”

Joey took a step forward to start circling towards the rest of Other-Joey’s captives, and only Henry’s lifetime of experience let him realize how much of Joey’s bravery was a front. “I’d say that’s debatable. Maybe you got ‘best’ and ‘worst’ mixed up in some way at some point along the line.”

“Please. You’re a Joey Drew, I’m a Joey Drew...” Other-Joey drawled. He made a gesture that was probably meant to be grandiose, sweeping his arms down and out to either side, but with the ink clinging to him, it just made him look like a dripping shadow with Joey’s face. “Surely even you, babbling and uncoordinated as you are, have felt the calling of greater powers, the destiny you can create for yourself if you only reach for it?”

Instead of directly answering the question, Joey snapped the fingers of one hand as if in realization, coming to a stop directly between his doppelganger and the rest of the room. “Ohhh, that’s the difference between you and me! I get it now!”

“You really haven’t felt it?”

“What? No, of course I have!” Joey gasped offendedly, giving Henry a miniature heart attack. “I’m pretty sure there’s not a single Joey in the entire multiverse who hasn’t had to figure out what to do with those thoughts, the ones that weasel their way into our heads and promise more, more, more. No, no, I believe the difference between us is fairly simple.”

He smiled cheerfully, mirroring his counterpart’s gesture in a way that made him look like a good-hearted uncle asking for a hug, then clasping his hands together in front of his chest.

“I recognized those thoughts for what they were: intrusions!”

As if on cue, the ink began bubbling everywhere there was enough to bubble, including on Other-Joey. As his twisted, horrifying ‘armor’ began sliding off his body and dropping to the ground in sloppy chunks, he spluttered, “When did-? How did-?!”

“Well, you see, it’s quite amazing what you can pick up when you put dark thoughts out of your mind in favor of spending time with your friends,” Joey said mildly, walking forward once more. “I’m impulsive, and I’m aware of that- shocking, I know- but it’s a lot harder to give into impulses that have nothing to do with who and what I care for than, say, the impulse to breathe life into my beloved cartoons in a way no one thought possible. Even those friends of mine who provided me the supplies thought I was a madman- seeking to create life without stealing it away from somewhere else, honestly, now isn’t that a silly thought? But I did it anyway, because at the end of the day, I’m no god. I don’t have the right to say who deserves to die. I’m just a man.”

His smile grew, looking more and more like the impish smile Henry had based Bendy’s on, and he let his clasped hands drop and his head tilt the same way he would when facing one of Henry’s frustrated tirades. “And now, so are you.”

#rosie babbles #rosie writes #I AM HAVIN A TIME #batim #should #should i post this to ao3???#should i do more with this?????#im mugging canon and rifling through its pockets #and im chucking the canon '''''''''ending''''''''' out the window bc screw that #im all for time loops and i think they are AMAZING plot devices #but. the way its done there. im not a fan #so I SHALL IGNORE IT #OR IF I ACKNOWLEDGE IT THEN IT'S ONLY SO I CAN KICK IT IN THE NUTS #girl help my spaces aren't all there and i keep missing some when i go back to fix them

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willymywonkers · 4 years

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Experiments

Summary: A flashback to when Wonka first opened up his factory, and his relationship with his partner and close friend, Maude, were all the rage. A new guy pulls into town and has his sights set on Maude. Drama ensues.

A/N: Oof, I apologize if the ending feels a little rushed. I should say this fic does have a bittersweet feel to it, but that's how I like it lol. I am working on rewriting one of my other fics because honestly I think I've gotten better at writing Wonka, lol

Willy Wonka made headlines around the world when he opened the largest chocolate factory ever in history. He stood proudly in front of the looming building as the press went wild.

People stood all around the factory, celebrating such a momentous occasion. Especially, Maude Figgle, who stood right in front of the crowd, chewing on a piece of gum.

While chocolate was Willy's main passion, Maude helped out in crafting different kinds of gum. She even invented a kind of gum that would never loss its flavor. The press never seemed to care much about her, even though she was the brains behind most of his famous candies.

"Hello, and thank you for coming." Willy began to speak on a podium. He began adjusting the microphone. He took out several notecards, flipping through each of them.

Finally, he spoke again. "It is with great honor that I, Willy Wonka, have finally opened the largest chocolate factory in the world. Candy has always been my passion since I was a little boy, and I couldn't have done it alone. Maude Figgle, my very good friend and partner, has done so many things to help me on this incredible journey that I could never imagined of doing it on my own. Now, without a further ado, Wonka's factory is now opened!"

The crowd cheered as Willy stood up and cut the rope of his shiny new factory.

Maude ran up the steps, waving to the crowd. She hugged Willy, tightly.

Will was a bit surprised at the hug. He chuckled nervously, hugging Maude back.

It was the happiest day of their lives.

Will sat in his office, admiring all the workers below. After just a few months, people already seemed to enjoy working at the factory. Will would go down from his office sometimes, and test the different samples that people had made.

Maude was usually in the experiment room, where she made most of her breakthroughs. She was currently testing out a type of rock candy that projected different kinds of emotions.

"Maude, if you keep chewing that gum, your jaw will close shut, haha." Will said, jokingly.

"Yeah, says who, Smartypants?" Maude chuckled, and continued chewing.

Gum seemed to be the only thing that keep her focus. Ever since she was a little girl, she had a habit of chewing gum. She would chew faster if she was nervous or extremely focused. When she didn't have gum to chew, Maude would chew on her hair, pencils, or anything to keep her mind to focus.

Willy's stance on gum was obvious. He hated the stuff, but when it came to Maude, he seemed to tolerate it a lot more.

"Whatcha working on?" Will asked, leaning over Maude's shoulder.

"None of your business." Maude scoffed.

Will pouted, crossing his arms. "Haha, jokes on you. This factory is my business."

"Oh, of course, Mr. International Hotshot." Maude pushed Will gently to the side, and grabbed a few chemicals from behind him.

"You better believe it, missy." Willy looked to the experimentation table. There seemed to be a rock that was glowing pink.

"What does that mean?" Will asked, looking to Maude.

"It's emotional rock candy. You just touch it, and it'll glow whatever color you're feeling." Maude said, excited at her new invention. "It's like a mood ring."

"Uh-huh, and what does pink mean?" Will asked, again, placing his gloved hand on the rock.

Maude blushed, slightly. "Um, it's usually referred to the feeling of love or well happiness. It's kinda not really completed yet."

The rock candy began to shake as well as turn several different colors.

Maude gulped, grabbing Will to the ground. The rock exploded and bits of rock candy seemed to blow everywhere.

Luckily, there wasn't any other workers nearby, but Maude and Willy.

Willy grabbed his cane, and started laughing. "That was magnificent! We should do that again, but next time we should add different labels on the colors."

Maude chuckled as well. "Hehe, of course."

"Yes, we should definitely do that when I get back from India."

Maude's smiled quickly faded. "Leaving? To India?"

"Prince Pondicherry asked me to build him a palace entirely made out of chocolate." Willy chuckled. "It's really a strange request, is it not?"

"Yes, but, who will be in charge when you're gone?"

"You will, of course."

Maude's eyes widened as Willy headed out the door. "But, wait, why me?"

"Why not you? You're the only gosh darn person I'd trust to run this entire factory."

Maude smiled, slightly. She seemed a little troubled. "I'll do my best, Will."

He smiled back at her, pulling her into a hug.

Maude hesitantly hugged back. She looked up at the chocolateir's face. He looked young and bright. His lips were almost kissable. His hair was all short and crooked.

Maude pulled out of the hug and looked away. The very words "I love you" hung to her tongue, as Willy walked out of the factory.

"Good luck, Will."

A few weeks later, the press were hounding the factory, curious to where the chocolateir went off to.

Maude tried to maintain her composure without him, but it was no use to the press. They liked to dismiss her like she was some secretary. It annoyed her at times.

Even some of the workers in the factory didn't seem to care that she was in charge. They would say revolting things behind her back. Soon she didn't show up to the break room anymore. She started chewing her gum a lot faster.

"Um, excuse me, miss." A man said, knocking on the door of Wonka's office.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Wonka isn't here right now. Is there anything I can help you with?" Maude asked, opening the door for the man.

"No, actually. I was just looking for you." The man stammered.

The man seemed to have red hair, with captivating green eyes.

"Well, is there anything that you need help with, sir?" Maude repeated.

"Um, I apologize if this comes off as a bit dodgy, but I wanted to ask if you'd get drinks with me later?"

Maude crossed her arms at the offer. "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to decline, because I've got lots of work to catch up on."

The man still insisted. "The drinks would be on me."

"Uh-huh. Another thing is I don't even know your name." Maude said, rolling her eyes.

"It's Ron, Ron Duncan." The man stuck out his hand.

She looked at his hand, and raised an eyebrow. "Maude Figgle. Now, I'm really swamped with work, if you'll excuse me."

"Look, I get that you're busy, but, I really admire your since I was a kid. In my opinion, you'd be better off without Wonka." The man turned to leave.

Maude stopped whatever she was doing and looked at him. "That's very kind of you. You know what, sure, I'll go."

"Great, then it's a date." Ron smiled at her and walked off.

From that first meeting, Maude didn't expect to be in a relationship with him. Ron seemed so nice and caring, but there was something off about him. She didn't exactly know what, but she did have a feeling that his intentions were cloudy.

When Willy got back from India, he was greeted by a tight hug from Maude.

"Ah, it's good to be back after such a long time. India is scolding hot, you know." Willy said, as he hugged Maude back.

"There's someone I want you to meet." She smiled at Will, bringing him over to Ron.

Willy's smile faltered, when she gave Ron a kiss on the cheek. "Heh, hi."

"This is Ron. He's my boyfriend." Maude said, holding onto Ron's hand.

Ron stuck out his hand for Will to shake it. Will hesitantly shook it with a disgusted look on his face.

"I find it extraordinary that after all this time you guys held up your friendship." Ron smiled. It seemed to have a sour connotation to it.

Will smiled back, just as sourly. "Uh-huh, yeah. We've had the same dream since we were kids."

Ron's smile disappeared, slightly. He gave Maude another kiss before heading off. It made Will grimace slightly, as Ron walked off.

Will didn't know how to describe it, but he didn't like Ron. In fact, he grew to despise him, but he just didn't know why.

Whenever he would see Maude all lovey dovey with Ron, it just made Will sick to his stomach. Soon, candy sales began to drop. His chocolate just wasn't tasting as good as it used to.

It started getting worse when spies began stealing his life's work. The only thing that kept him afloat was Maude.

One day, Maude announced that she was getting engaged. However, she didn't seem too thrilled about it.

Willy picked up on it right away. She didn't seem to want anything to do with him anymore.

Maude began to distance herself from Will more and more. He felt more hollow without her.

During the wedding, Will showed up to walk Maude down the aisle.

"H-hey, Maude." He began.

"Yes?" She answered.

Will couldn't get over how she looked in her wedding dress. Her hair was done up all nice, and her lips looked almost kissable. He placed his gloved hand on her cheek, as the words "I love you" hung on the tip of his tongue.

"Good luck." He said, as he walked her down the aisle.

#catcf #catcf 2005 #willy wonka #maude figgle #maude and willy #catcf fan character #catcf oc #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka x oc

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bakutae · 4 years

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meeting the prince

- a royalty au for the @bnhabookclub event

pairing: prince! shouto todoroki x maid! reader

context: where a lowly maid cross paths with a prince unintentionally

author's note(if any): oh my gosh fey @k-atsukidayo thank you so much for beta reading this fic and editing it as well! i really appreciate it

"Remember to keep your heads low while attending to the guests at Prince Shouto’s birthday party today. Do not communicate with each other while you’re working or you will be sent to the queen, as usual."

A low buzz reverberates around the room as the maids begin to whisper amongst each other, drowning out the silence that was present just moments ago.

You glance at the girl next to you, who is kneeling on the bumpy floor, just like you. You don’t know who she is, what her name even is, since maids are not supposed to communicate on the job and are expected to just work and attend to the needs of the royal family.

There was a time a young lady had been too talkative during the queen's celebratory banquet. An electrifying wave runs through your spine as you recall how she had been exiled to another kingdom. Your eyes close for a second, remembering how the poor girl's parents were begging the queen to spare her, since she was, after all, still young and had so much life to explore and learn.

However, the queen had refused immediately. After that, the parents of the girl went missing. There were many rumours as to what had happened to her parents. But the queen had sent soldiers patrolling the village and whoever who spoke about the girl or their parents were, once again, banished to another kingdom.

Your eyes flutter open and you clench your fists, and you can't help but feel that justice was not carried out promptly for her. But your thoughts are soon gone, since now you have to listen to the lecture that the head maid, Reina, has to present or it’s off to the queen you go.

The talk has lasted for so long that your knees are starting to ache, the rough floor scratching your knees from the friction. The color of your skin becoming flushed, the pressure of gravity on your body and the density of the floor being too much as you bite your lip, an attempt to lessen the growing pain.

You then try to move, hoping that it will bring you some form of relief. You wince. It is clearly a bad idea and you glance at your delicate knees, promptly deciding to ignore what else Reina has to say.

The warm sunlight shines in from the tiny square hole at the corner of the room, flickering deliriously right onto you. You squint, the bright beam beam of light beginning to hurt your eyes and you brush a calloused thumb over your knee.

Though your thumb is already quite rough, your knees are worse. The scabs from the previous time you had from a previous meeting, that also lasted for too long, had peeled off a little too early, and red flesh stares right back at you. You then try to tug your skirt down further, hoping that it will give your knee at least a little bit of protection, ignoring the intolerable feeling of exposed flesh the more you tug at it.

You could always just change your skirt, though, you simply don’t want to. Your eyes dart from maid to maid, and you notice that all their skirts cover their knees well. It's just you, the black sheep amongst the others.

You don’t want to bow every time you see someone important; you just don’t understand the concept behind it. Sincerity always seems to ooze out of the others when they bow a perfect ninety degrees, and it disgusts you.

You don’t like how the guests at the parties look down at you, knowing their place and asserting their dominance through eye contact. Especially when some of them would purposefully spill a cup of tea on the floor, and you would have to clean it up, though you don't usually attend to them.

But, unfortunately, you have to simply bite your tongue and hold back. For without the title as a maid, you would be known as nothing but a lowly peasant. You'd rather settle for a maid than being nothing but a peasant.

Your hands slowly move from your skirt to your pocket, gripping the lock of hair that your mother had briefly given to you before passing away because of an incurable illness. Your fingertips caress the smooth chunk, treating it with utmost care, careful to let it not tangle up.

The skirt belongs to your mother, from when she was a just maid, like you, until she met your father, a humble cobbler, and decided to resign from her job and had you.

Your heart aches at the thought of your deceased mother and tears soon threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. Bile rises to your throat, causing you to splutter and choke.

Silence.

You realise that all of the maids, including Reina, are staring at you incredulously. Some shake their heads and click their tongues at you. Irritation begins to replace what once was sorrow, and you are about to give them a piece of your mind when-

"Y/n, we've talked about your attitude multiple times. Anymore of these nonsense coming from your mouth and I will definitely send you to the queen and you will be dealt with. Understand?"

Your large eyes meet Reina’s beady ones, which have a dangerous undertone to them. And, you break off the eye contact immediately, biting your lips instead. You know better than to say anything rebellious now, and you subtly nod. It seems to satisfy the head maid, and she promptly dismisses the group.

Soon, one by one, the maids begin to return to their housing quarters to change into a new set of clothes, nothing too fancy, just plain, brown, cotton covering their thin bodies and they begin to part ways.

You are assigned to the ballroom, as usual, where you have to attend to all the guest's needs at all times and give out the champagne to newly arrived ones, while maintaining eye contact with the ground, to exude ‘submission’, or so you’ve been told.

Before you could even take any steps further, a sharp voice calls out to you.

“Y/n, where do you think you’re going? I have told you just now haven’t I? You will be training our new addition. Guide her, ensure that she will not cause trouble for the royal family.”

Your eyebrows raise inwardly. As you turn your head around ever so slightly, you catch sight of a girl hiding behind the head maid.

She watches you with uncertainty in her eyes. She can’t be much older than eighteen. You look at her suspiciously. What is a young girl like her doing here? Her gaze wavers and she looks down, taking a handful of her skirt in her hands.

You force a warm smile and step towards her, while asking her to follow you. She scurries over to you, glancing over her shoulder in the process, as if to look at the head maid for assurance. The head maid nods and leaves.

You bring her to your room, a small place, your haven, you call it. The familiar, musty smell fills your nose and you take a deep breath and sigh. It does sound gross, but you had been living in this room for a few years now, and have gotten used to the scent. You’ve come to like it.

The brick walls are crumbling off, covering the floor with a thin layer of dirt. You observe the girl for her reaction. She scrunches her nose in disdain and fans her nose, perhaps hoping that the smell will go away.

The room has a sleeping bag and a tiny wooden closet. It is livable in there, though, quite limited to necessities. You crack open your closet door, getting a fresh change of clothes for you and the girl.

“So, uh, why’re you here?”

You ask, hoping to get some knowledge about her, to know what to expect while training her. However, she keeps quiet, hands clasped together and placed delicately in front of her hips and head looking downward.

Waiting a few seconds, you and her soon fall into an uncomfortable silence. You briefly close your eyes and look up, irritated at her. This was why you hate to train anyone here.

She takes a step forward, which catches you off guard, and you take a step back. Unsure of what else to do, you look at her, taking in her facial features.

Her golden brown hair is messily tied up in a loose bun, and her eyes. Her eyes are a rare shade of grey, seeming so much like marble under the moonlight, drawing attention to you. They seem to glow under the moonlight, her orbs are wobbling with emotions with emotion and you feel the need to envelop her in a hug. You don’t know why, you just feel the need to. You control yourself, shaking your head slightly, an attempt to control yourself.

She has a birthmark surrounding her lips, another interesting feature that you caught on now and didn't when you first met her.

Before you can admire her face any further, the bells at the castle ring. You freeze instantly. The bells signify that the guests from other kingdoms are arriving, which means that the maids should be at their positions at this moment.

You curse under your breath and toss her the dress, telling her to wear it. You, too, unbutton the fabric of your clothes and change quickly, enjoying the new soft fabric touching your skin. Then, you carefully grab the lock of hair and transfer it into your pocket.

You proceed to turn around, hoping to at least give her some basic respect and privacy. Staring out of the stained glass from your room, you watch as ships begin to paint the once calm ocean with dots of color.

A small smile creeps onto your face. How would it be like to be on one of those ships? you wonder, a faraway look in your eyes, the girl in your room long forgotten. You itch to gently caress the fabric with your rough hands, feeling the soft delicate fabric on your skin. You feel like a completely different person. It’s almost as if you have a new persona. Your eyes slowly take in the sight, enjoying this new outfit. Then, you turn to look at yourself in your small mirror next to the window, wanting to see how it appears on your body.

You have a plain brown attire, far different compared to the guests’ lavish colored ones. Your fingers find refuge in your pocket as you let out a self-deprecating laugh and frantically shake your head. This is your kismet, how could you stand a chance against it? You chide yourself internally. But, then, you jolt, suddenly remembering the ringing bells.

Glancing behind you, you are reminded of the apprenticeship of the girl, the dreaded task. Holding her dirty clothes in hand, she’s just standing beside you in silence, as if she doesn’t want to interrupt your thoughts. You silently take a mental note of that. She, unexpectedly, is rather considerate.

You then reach out a hand to her, and she takes it. Confused, you stare at her. You mean to take her dirty clothes, not her hand. You look at her, then at the clothes. Finally understanding, she slowly removes her hand from yours, her cheeks gradually glowing a shade of pink as she passes you her dress.

Pretending to disregard the previous ordeal, you throw the dirty clothing in the clothes basket and step out of your room, taking big steps at a time. You have completely lost track of time. This is the first time you’re late, and you have no idea what to expect upon arriving at the ballroom.

Quietly slipping into the ballroom, it seems that everyone is too preoccupied in their fun to notice you and the other girl arrive. Scurrying over to the bartender, you hand her a tray of champagne, and motion for her to give it out to guests. She gracefully nods, and moves into the crowd not long after.

Finally alone, you take a good look at your surroundings. The band is playing up an instrumental piece, reflecting off the four walls and ringing throughout the room. A chandelier hung proudly in the centre, radiating such warmth and joy to the atmosphere.

Your eyes trace over the walls, a glittering silver, so bright and shiny you feel the need to shield yourself from their glare. A group of women walk past you, with flowing, intricate designs on their gowns, beautiful shades of pastel. The faint scent of roses fill your senses and it brings you serenity.

Hearing their low chatter and occasional laughter, you felt incredibly out of place. Right, you never had a place here to begin with. The ambience around you makes you feel a little bit better. But you still couldn’t help but sigh.

Trying to get those negative thoughts out of your head, your hands reach out to a tray as well. As you ready yourself for the task, a cold hand touches your shoulder.

“Why are you late?”

You jump in shock, newfound adrenaline suddenly coursing through you as you gulp slowly and turn around. That high-pitched, piercing voice could only belong to one person: Reina. As you expected, it is her. Panicking internally, you tell her the first thing that comes to mind: your trainee had constipation and you had to wait for her.

Reina’s eyebrows rise in suspicion, and you pray that she wouldn’t see the small bead of cold sweat roll down your forehead.

Not telling you anything else, Reina walks away. Perhaps that is a good sign, since she didn’t rebuke you. Your chest heaves, a small sigh of relief leaving your lips. You heartbeat slowly returns to normal, that is, until you catch the sight of Reina speaking to the queen. Suddenly anxious, you worry about what Reina had told the queen. You hope it’s not your lack of punctuality.

You don’t know why. But at this pivotal moment, it did not matter. But you hurry toward the door of the ballroom impulsively, and instantly regret it. Small feet thumping the ground with a quick tempo, you contemplate to look behind you. And, after much thought, you do.. You watch in horror, as the queen’s gaze is seemingly fixed on you. You can feel her anger.

You know you should have said something when Reina instructed you to mentor the girl. Peeking at the scabs on your knees, you cringe as the pain soon begins to take over your body and lessens your speed. Muttering profanities under your breath, you still push on. From the corner of your eyes, you can see royal guards coming after you.

You know that if they caught you, your punishment wouldn't be just banishing to another kingdom. Shivering as you think of all sorts of gore, you see the door opening inch by inch. You tug at the door as it opened with a creak. Before closing it, you hear the queen scream in pure rage.

The fear completely paralyzes you, and the more you think about running away, or simply moving a bit, the more you feel discouraged and utterly terrified. You hear the queen yell “SHOUTOOOOOO,” and the ballroom becomes dead quiet. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or not since she isn’t calling for you. You think, maybe, something more important has her attention. It is the least of your worries for now, though.

Running along the dimly lit corridors, you find the need to squint, everything in front of you a complete blur. You have no idea where to go, or what you are supposed to do. You surprisingly feel...free.

With no one to control you at this moment, you could roam around the castle to your heart's desire, but you decide against it. You fumble around, placing a hand on the wall to guide you along the way. You then try to find ways to be able to see better. By rapidly blinking, you realize that doing so makes out the outline of your surroundings.

You then see light coming from a corner. You halt, peeking over the wall to see someone coming up with a flashlight. Palms clamming up, you lean against the wall, as if that would do anything. But anything to calm your pounding heart, right?

As you pray that it isn’t any royal guards, you wish fervently that you’d suddenly disappear or turn invisible. Streaks of red and white fill your vision and you frown, confused. Isn’t that…

“P-prince Shouto?” You whisper, almost hoping that he would not hear you.

His heterochromatic orbs widen as if he hadn’t been expecting anyone in these dark hallways. He shines the torchlight toward your face, and you squint from the exposure.

“I’m not going back.”

Tilting your head to the side, you raise an eyebrow. Your eyes flicker over his face, and you accidentally make eye contact with him. Averting your eyes away, it then hit you. You are of close proximity with the prince. Instinctively, you bow. Your hair falls over your head, coming undone. You are still in disbelief that you are face-to-face, less than five feet apart from the prince and-

“Stop with the act. I know Mother sent you after me.” Voice ice cold, he glares at you, with some degree of hatred in his eyes.

Eyes widening, you open your mouth, then quickly close it, not knowing what to say. Frantically neatening up your hair that had been messed from bowing, you whisper. You hope that it will convey your vulnerability.

“I really don't know what’s going on. I’m just a lowly maid who was late for my ballroom duty and the queen looked like she was about to kill me so I just left the ballroom fearing for my life and I’m still fearing for my life. Please don’t-”

Your hands fly to cover your mouth as you fearfully look at Shouto. Then, you mentally reprimand yourself for saying too much and wasting the prince’s time. Deciding that you should probably be on your way, you quickly bow and turn around, taking a step forward.

“Are you trying to run away?”

Shouto’s voice calls out to you a few seconds later. You freeze, not knowing how to answer his question. If you say yes, would he bring you to the queen? If you say no, would he tell the queen about you?

It then hits you. Perhaps… the prince was trying to run away too? Since you did hear the queen yell Shouto’s name. Slowly turning around with a panicked, crooked smile, you reply.

“Yes.”

With your job considered gone and reputation tainted, there is clearly no place for you here anymore.

“Well, great. Me too. Let’s run away together.”

“W-what? What would your mother think? Shouto, think-”

When you stopped yourself, Shouto raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

“I’m sorry for speaking to you informally, Prince Shouto.”

Bracing yourself for any scolding, you force your eyes shut. Nothing comes after that. You try to open your left eye, and Shouto is looking at you, rather amused.

“You have no idea how funny you look right now. Also, honestly speaking, I don't care much for the respect aspect. We’re about the same age, right? What’s there to respect?”

Opening your mouth to protest, you place a finger in the air.

“But I’m just a lowly maid and you’re a prince and I shouldn't be talking to you in this way because I’m kind of like a peasant and you’re like, so amazing and royal and high class and all that and-”

“Gosh, do you ever shut up?”

His ice cold expression is gone and is replaced by a warm smile. You never thought you would see him smile. Since, after all, whenever you had attended to him on any occasion, his eyes would be devoid of any emotion, lips awfully straight with a constant uninterested vibe.

“I guess not,” you respond playfully.

“Besides, this is fate isn’t it? Who would have thought that we’d meet each other here? Look at it as a fortunate stroke of serendipity, you can’t control your destiny you know?”

You are in a daze, still in shock, as Shouto half-drags you along with him, trying to find his way out of the castle with the torchlight lighting the way. No idea where he is going, you decide to trust Shouto wholeheartedly. It then hits you.

This isn’t right.

Both he and you know that you, a lowly maid, and him, a royal prince, together would be a force to be reckoned with. It may even cause all hell to break loose. But realistically speaking, what can you do in this situation?

It may be a mistake; but it’s going to be a beautiful one. You are going to make sure it is a beautiful one. Besides, Shouto is right.

What chance do you stand against kismet, really?

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