#What happens when the four of them are bored and trapped inside cause of rain

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #27: Sole

It was just another day for this small portion of the Troupe. Just Ely, Fen, Aryn, and Ronove in Ely's apartment. Just relaxing and enjoying each other's company. Well mostly relaxing.

"Well, it's o-fish-ial," Ely crows from where she's curled into the corner of her sofa, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth. The rain beats down on the window panes and the troupe group had gathered in Ely's apartment to exist quietly with one another. "Fangs, you're formally a fin-tastic fish father." She looks smug.

Fen, reading a book on the other sofa, sighs fondly.

Aryn is groaning from where he sits near Fen drinking a cup of tea. "Seems a bit fishy to me."

"You betta believe it." Ronove smirks as he messes with his fishing kit he'd bought recently. It was better then the basic one he had started with. An his new friend was planning to teach him to make food for his fishy friends. "I dislike anchovies though, they're a little fishy."

"Maybe think about tackling jellyfish next?" Ely hums thoughtfully, "We wouldn't want them to get jelly!" She pauses at beat and then adds, seriously, "And some of them are bioluminescent, which might be pretty at night. We do like sparkly things here."

"Perch-ance," Fen pipes up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stares, stubbornly, at his book, "would it have krill-ed you to not start a pun war Darling?"

"Excuse you! I have no ink-ling of what you mean Fen! My puns are ex-squid-ite." Ely pouts at him.

"It's de-beta-bowl how skilled her puns are tonight." Aryn smirked as he sipped at his tea. "She takes every oppor-tuna-ty she can get."

"Needs more e-fish-ency. I'm going to need a minute to mullet over." Ronove was doing his best not to crack up laughing as he closed the fishing kit.

"Wow! Re-puffed by my own family. I sea how it is…" Ely pouts theatrically. "It would be shell-fish of me not to share in my gill-orious puns." She sniffs, "It's not my fault you two are all crabby."

"I'm not crabby at all. I'm scaling back on my puns for your sake. Some of your puns can be rather a-trout-cious." Aryn giggles as he makes sure he doesn't spill his tea.

"Don’t try to gill-t trip me." Ronove snorts as he grins with fangs on display. "Maybe you just need some more vitamin sea, Ely."

Ely makes a deeply offended noise, "I can't believe you're trouting my talent! The of-fin-se! I've obviously got you hooked on fishy puns now."

"Now, now. You're just trying to take advantage of every oppor-tuna-ty." Aryn waves a hand in a comforting motion towards Ely. "We can't help that it's just very catchy."

"I think she's the jelly one that we're catching on just for the halibut." Ronove smirks as he thinks. He was definitely feeling like this was something he would have done in his mortal life. Just having fun with puns. "I'll just throw her some hooks so she can stop floundering."

Ely glares at them, "You two think you're so so-fish-ticated, huh? I'll make you feel my wrasse, wait and sea, just when you least expect it."

"These puns are kraken me up," Fen says, absolutely deadpan, "The conversation is a bit lost at sea but at least you're pretty con-fin-dent in your improvisation skrills. Very oar-ganized too."

"Oh dear… She might be the sole survivor at this rate. We're sunk." Aryn laughs merrily. "If we live, we're going to need a minute to mullet over."

"We're not royally scrod yet. This is not the last craw. No surrender!" Ronove thrusts a fist into the air comically. "We'll snapper out of it before long. Because we're not fin-ished yet!"

"How gill-ant of you." Ely sniffs, "You're krill-ly a dab hand at this." A impish smile steals over her lips, "I guess you're just full of carp, huh?"

Aryn was glad he'd set his cup down. He couldn't resist laughing hard now. Waving a white handkerchief in the air as he laid there laughing. Clearly he was calling it quits.

"Oh, for heavens hake! He's drowning now. He's such a Paci-fish-t he couldn't handle it anymore. Done in by the squidding around we're doing. Should we have mercy on him or make him walk the plankton?" Ronove reaches over to poke Aryn's side as the viera is too busy laughing.

"Hmmmm…" Ely taps her chin thoughtfully, "I think we should be ab-sole-lutely sure he's really schooled, you know? We're piranha roll now and we should make sure he's not just playing koi. Make sure he's not throwing us a red herring."

"I think we've reached the fin-ale." Ronove smirking at Aryn laying there holding his sides. "He definitely seems fin-ished. And I think I've clownfished enough that I'm running out of puns myself. I'm out of practice."

Ely pouts, "I see how it is! Now that I've mussel-ed up and you two can no longer bubble-team me you've decided to shrimp out…"

Ronove chuckles and shrugs. "You win this round? I'll prepare better for the next round and then we'll see what you're aboat."

Ely sighs and tips side ways, like a maiden in a Thorne Period novel, "I guesssssss."

"You three are ab-sole-lutely hilarious." Fen hums, lips quirking in amusement, "I had a whale of a time, though I thought I might have to coral you a few times, but you stayed octo-mistic about your abilities and powered through to the fin-ish. I'm very proud of you."

Ronove snorts before sticking his tongue out at Ely and Fen both. "Apparently Fen just had to fin-ish us off. Hook, line, and sinker. I think I need more tea now."

#FFxivWrite 2023 #FFxivWrite #Prompt 27 #Prompt Sole #Please enjoy the Fish Pun War #Or suffer it lol #Whichever :D #About Ronove #About Aryn #Ely helped me with this one since I am terrible at coming up with THIS many puns #The Blue Moon Troupe #What happens when the four of them are bored and trapped inside cause of rain #Friend decided to help my lousy night with amusing fish pun shenanigans #Cause my neck is giving me a killer headache atm

[babydrummer]

hellooo ,,, (evil smirk)

i’m so very curious as to what rainworld is as i’ve only been exposed to it through tumblr and tumblr alone; and to be frank it looks very intriguing and very confusing. ok basically what i’m saying is that if you wanna infodump abt rainworld onto me.. please do i’m a little lost

OH MY GOD MOOR you've activated my trap card i am legally obligated to ramble about rainworld. alright. SO

rain world lore is very. VERY vague and cryptic. even i don't know the whole story n i used to be obsessed with this game so i may or may not be getting this all wrong. but here's the jist.

thats you. you are a slugcat. a fucked up little guy half goop and half kitty. you just happened to be exploring the world with your lovely little slug family when WOOPS it started raining real bad and you accidentally got separated. now you're alone. and at the very bottom of a very brutal food chain.

the world you inhabit is INCREDIBLY FUCKED. essentially, no one here can die. ever. you exist inside a horrible cycle of death and rebirth. it sucks. if you get eaten you wake up the next day just fine. kill the annoying predator lurking outside your den? he's fine. this continues for forever (probably.)

a billion or so years before you existed, there were these people(?) called the architects (? i think?) and they really wanted to die. they had built a great utopian society blah blah blah and now they wanted to die. so they built these MASSIVE computers called iterators and were like "heyyyy lol. please figure out a way to kill us. please"

and the iterators (who are sentient by the way) were like "okay bet" and got to work thinking. but the architects got really bored of waiting and kept searching for their own way to die and eventually, they FOUND SOMETHING. at the very bottom of the world there was this weird substance known as void and if you jumped into it you WOULDN'T BE REBORN.

the architects were like "hooooly shit we're fucking free" and a lot of them jumped in. but turns out the Void has a TERMS AND CONDITIONS. turns out there's this thing called karma and i have no clue how it works but if you had too much / too little karma the Void would spit you back out as a weird eldritch creature cursed to never live or die again.

the architects were mildly freaked out by this and no one really knew how to deal. they kept the iterators running to try and figure out an alternative to jumping into the Void but eventually the architects were like fuck it and killed themselves via void anyway.

a billion years passed. probably. i dont know. but in that timeframe, the iterators made a group chat (im not kidding) between like the 8(??? i forgot how many) of them and were like "heyy lol you guys made any progress on figuring out how to die" "nope lol." this continued for a while.

BUT THEN SUDDENLY. one of the iterators was like "HOLY SHIT I FIGURED IT OUT" and then fucked died. and everyone else was like "HOOOOLY SHIT?????" but no one else could figure it out. and this kinda spurred the iterators on a little more (i think.)

eventually this is where YOU come in. you meet two of the iterators, Looks to the Moon and Five Pebbles, (yes they have strange names dont worry about it they dont mean anything) and while Moon is too run down to properly communicate (in the normal route), Pebbles is like "man lol i don't know what you want you fucking cat weirdo. if you wanna die there's this void thing i guess."

so you saunter your goopy ass down to the void and jump in. and die. and you have a vision of your family. all is well in the world (?????????)

AND THAT'S JUST THE BASICS FOR THE NORMAL ROUTE. THERE ARE FOUR MORE. AND THEY'RE ALL STUPIDLY COMPLICATED. I LOVE IT.

also the reason rain world is called rain world is because every now and then it rains so bad it floods the entire world. it turns out that rain is coming from the iterators. they are apparently SO BIG that the water they use to cool themselves evaporates into CLOUDS THAT CAUSE FLOODS.

also in one section of the game you get to crawl through their systems and eat their neurons. which is cool.

#.mine #long post #rain world #i'll explain more later these are just the basics .

[heavencollins]

David Bruckner's The Night House: Mental Illness and the Effect it Has on Loved Ones

spoiler filled sections up ahead, go forth at your own risk.

The Night House is a tour de force. It's a fresh take on the classic horror metaphor for mental illness and how it affects your day to day life. The film opens after the catalyst that thrusts us into the story; Beth, played by Rebecca Hall, says her goodbyes to a family member/family friend at the door of her house. Once inside, surrounded by huge glass windows and doors, she throws a tin-foil covered casserole in the trash, and pours a glass of wine.

The film is slow, crawling, but never boring. It keeps viewers in the dark about things until we absolutely need to know. Beth’s husband, Owen, shot himself on their boat in the middle of the lake their property sits on. Built by Owen, Beth feels like she’s never alone now that he’s gone. When the sun sets, she can’t tell when her conscious life ends and her sleep life begins, often found waking up in the middle of random rooms throughout the house. Her friends are concerned, her neighbor is concerned, but she knows that something is happening.

Owen kept secrets. There is something in the back of Beth’s head that begins to feed that thought into her mind. Her “dreams”, or maybe bouts of psychosis, lead her further down that rabbit hole with visions of Owen and hearing his voice behind her shoulder. She finds the journal that held his floor plans for the house, but as she fingers through the journal deeper and deeper, nothing starts to make sense. Why is there a reverse floor plan of their house? What is this figure he drew in the middle of it? Why does he write about tricking something?

Beth reveals to her work friend that when she was a teenager, she died in a car crash. She was dead for four minutes, lungs crushed, heart not working, but was somehow resuscitated. Owen was the only person she ever told what she saw in the afterlife. Nothing. She saw nothing.

Furthering Beth’s paranoia, the suicide note that Owen left states that Beth was right, there is nothing. That nothing is following her, and she is safe. She keeps the letter with her, the blood stained envelope, messy handwriting. But what could be following her?

In the woods, after having one last dream about the reverse house, she finds the house Owen was hiding from her. Plywood and tarps and garbage bags form the skeleton, no furniture, just empty. Except for a little figure in the middle of a room upstairs. A voo-doo doll of some sort, with pins stuck through planned locations. She runs to her neighbors house, begging for more information on it, and learns that the neighbor once saw Owen bring another woman there, and left covered in mud. He never saw something like that again, and promised Owen he would never tell Beth on him.

Owen was stalking girls that looked like Beth. He has photos on his computer of women that look just like her, but slightly different. Hundreds of photos. Beth, in a desperate state, goes back to the reverse house. Begging for Owen to contact her once again. It’s night time, it’s raining, and everything is soggy. Her foot falls through a floor board, revealing bags of dead bodies. The bodies of the dead women.

Beth calls her friend in a state of shock, but it’s late, so she doesn’t answer the phone and leaves a voicemail stating that she never should have dug deeper, that she made a terrible mistake. In the bathroom, Beth calls for Owen, and a message appears on the fogged up shower wall: Here.

But it isn’t Owen that is there, it’s something else. It’s nothing. It’s the Nothing that Beth saw when she died for four minutes. It’s the Nothing that Owen has been trying to stave off for all these years, creating a duplicate of their house, placing a voo-doo doll in the house to trap the Nothing, murdering nearly exact replicas of Beth to try and trick Nothing. But Nothing figured it out, sooner rather than later, and he was here to take Beth back with him for good. Owen wasn’t there to protect her anymore. The Nothing drove Owen to kill himself.

In an earlier scene, Beth talks to her coworkers about Owen’s death, and they ask her if there were any warning signs. Beth tells them that she always struggled with mental illness, not Owen, that Owen is who took her out of those dark periods all the time, that he is the one who constantly made the bad thoughts go away, but that maybe it finally got to him and she’s the reason he died. Everybody tells her mental health isn’t contagious like that, but she laughs. Now, Beth knows the truth. It isn’t contagious, but the Nothing will do anything to get her.

Owen fought it for as long as he could, he built this house by himself so he knew exactly what he needed to do in the reverse house, even when Beth recorded him and told him that they could’ve hired people to build the house, and he just shakes his head. He built this house to protect Beth, to keep her safe, surrounded by windows that allow anyone to look in but still act as walls. He found as many replicas of Beth as he could, going as far as to seduce and murder them in his reverse house, while going home and still loving Beth. He was arguably possessed by the Nothing. But he didn’t want Beth to leave this mortal realm, and instead, took his own life.

The suicide note should have acted as a warning to Beth that something was going to happen, we can infer that the Nothing probably persuaded Owen to write it, to make her feel safe. The dreams, or most likely bouts of psychosis that Beth went under at night time were caused by the Nothing trying to get her to feel safe, to make her feel that it was Owen’s presence.

In Beth’s world with the Nothing, everything is dark. There are two moons; a red moon, and a normal moon, right next to each other. The Nothing lures Beth onto the boat, the same boat that Owen killed himself on. The Nothing presents as Owen, but has a dark voice, a brooding energy. The Nothing hands Beth the same gun that Owen used to shoot himself. She plays it over in her head, running the gun through her hands.

In the “real” world, Beth’s friend comes running out to the dock, after realizing that the house was empty and the gun was missing. It’s morning time, but not in Beth’s world. Everything is so dark, but Beth’s friend’s voice keeps breaking through. Beth drops the gun. She tells the Nothing, that there is nothing. After she says this, Beth’s friend grabs her off the boat, and they swim back to the dock. The movie ends with both of them getting to safety.

So what does that ending really mean?

Beth finally came to terms with her mental health, and how to live with it on her own. She knows the Nothing has no power over her, as she can take control of her own life. Owen succumbs to it, but she doesn’t have to. By standing up to the Nothing, she knows she can face anything now, even in the face of darkness itself.

The Night House is a perfect, allegorical tale of what it means to be a depressed adult with a seemingly normal life. You can hide from everything, but it’s always going to creep back into your life. But it also begs the question of how far you would go for the person you love the most, the person you would do anything for. Owen paid with his life for the woman he loved. It’s not necessarily romantic, but it shows the effect that depression has on loved ones, and how sometimes love isn’t enough, and the person has to help themselves rather than rely on those around you.

#the night house #rebecca hall #david bruckner #film essay #film review #essay #mental health #mental heath support

[chaoticevilbean]

Voltron Humans are Weird 2/?

Lance tapped his fingers against the ground again and again, eyes boring into the laser wall that kept them trapped in the cell. Two sentries stood outside, stiff and cold. He had been silent from the moment the Galra had captured him and Pidge on their intelligence-gathering mission. The others were sure to come for them, but the Cuban worried about what might happen before then. Pidge was his little sister in all but blood. He didn't know how he'd survive anything happening to her.

Loud, heavy footsteps pounded their way towards the cell, causing Pidge to scoot closer to Lance, her hands clenched and shoulders tight. The older Paladin moved a bit in front of his comrade, just as tense but ready to fight anyone who tried to hurt the younger. A large Galran commander, broad and furred, stopped at their cell, motioning at the sentries to lower the laser wall. They obeyed, and the commander walked towards his prisoners, teeth bared in what was either a smile or a snarl.

"So we've finally caught some of the famous Voltron Paladins," he growled out. "And you were foolish enough to bring the Green Lion along. Three little presents for the Emperor. Only," the Galra paused, and his mouth closed as he smirked, "he doesn't care about the condition the Paladins of Voltron are in. Which means I can do whatever is necessary to obtain the possible information you have."

"I knew the Galra were stupid, but I didn't know you were dumb enough to think that we'd give you intel."

"Silence, Voltron scum. With the right methods, you'll give me anything I want." Lance grimaced, but quickly turned it into a smirk. The Paladins had learned rather quickly that it is much harder for aliens to lie or hide their emotions, so even amateur acting among humans would be considered highly skilled for other races. It worked to Voltron's advantage that Terrans were underestimated by aliens, leaving them to believe that such skills like lying were beyond the humans' level. Even the Alteans had yet to figure out that the Paladins could lie with ease.

"We're trained in the art of torture, both in inflicting pain upon our enemies in ways that leave them begging for mercy, and in withstanding that which is inflicted upon us. We have watched each other suffer and learned to defy our natural protective instincts. Unless you have something new to give us, which I highly doubt, there is no way you will succeed in getting information." Pidge side-eyed her companion, but was quick to catch on and smirk as well, as though completely confident in her abilities to resist torture.

"Then I guess we'll give you something new, Blue Paladin," the commander sneered, signaling the sentries to grab Lance. As he was dragged out, the Cuban's only thoughts were of how it was him and not his little sister. The Green Paladin looked on with a stoic face, set in the act that had only just begun, but horror was in her eyes.

Lance was taken to a new room and stuck in a chair. He was flanked by two sentries and four Galran soldiers lined the walls. The door closed with a slam, and the Blue Paladin knew he had no chance of fighting his way out. Though he followed Pidge's lead in retaining an expression of indifference, his heart clenched at the thought that whatever torture they had in mind didn't require restraints. It was a scarier notion than if he had been completely subdued.

The commander moved into Lance's view, his sneer still present. He beckoned a soldier forward, a large box in their hands. It was placed on the table, a dull thunk echoing in the room. The soldier scurried backwards as the contents of the container were unloaded. Several beakers, a few sealed cartons, and a plate of what seemed to be mint leaves. Lance attempted to maintain his straight face, keeping himself as still as possible as he studied the probable poisons. It made sense now. He had no chance of fighting his way out, and poison didn't require restraints. All it required was getting it into the desired person's system.

"Well, Paladin, I do hope that you've prepared for your inevitable demise. Maybe you'll manage to squeeze out a surrender as you burn from the inside." As he spoke, the hulking Galra opened one of the cartons, carefully using a scoop to measure out some bright red powder. He seemed extremely cautious of the substance, and Lance tensed in anticipation. The scoop was brought towards his face, and the sentries on either side of him held their guns aimed at his head. His only chance of living was ingesting whatever was given to him.

The commander grasped Lance's jaw, forcing the human's mouth open and dumping the powder in. The boy's eyes widened as he tasted the poison. It... was... spicy. All of the Galra in the room were staring at their prisoner, the underlings peering nervously at him as though he were about to collapse.

But Lance's mind was elsewhere. The poison was spicy, not a whole lot, but maybe like a jalepeno, and only for a moment before it started to fade. He had swallowed immediately, and the burn felt no worse than his mother's mild chili, made for the young ones and their low tolerances. Many of the foods in space were bland, practically tasteless. Even if this poison was deadly, Lance wanted more. He missed spicy foods, missed the burn and the numbness that came with them. He was the kind of person that had tried ghost peppers and Carolina Reapers for fun.

"Is the pain so much that you can't speak, oh great Paladin," his captor asked with venom and victory in his voice. "Do you think you were prepared enough for this?"

"What is this," Lance suddenly questioned, turning to face the Galra head-on with curiosity dominating his expression. The being was surprised, but nonetheless answered.

"A deadly poison that burns through all it touches, C18H27NO3. We learned the human word from the Champion when he was given a small portion of it, to test his strength. Your species calls it capsaicin."

"Capsaicin?" The commander nodded, his smirk back in place, though it disappeared with the next words. "I love this stuff! When my team comes to save us, can we have your supply?"

"For what?" one of the soldiers spoke up fearfully, their eyes trained on the Terran.

"For food! We use capsaicin to season our food! It's delicious!"

"It burns!"

"I know! It's sooo good!" The commander slammed his fist onto the table, growling. He closed the carton and moved it aside, pulling one of the beakers over instead.

"Perhaps this will be better suited for our motives!" His voice raised as he shoved the glass container over to Lance. The boy was less nervous about this, instead grasping the beaker and promptly downing the entire dark liquid. If the powder was capsaicin, then chances are the other 'poisons' were actually not toxic to him. Hunk had once mentioned that many foods humans consumed were considered highly poisonous. The liquid was black tea, served cold.

"So why is black tea considered poisonous? Lemme guess, the caffeine?" The Paladin leaned back in his chair, arms rising to go behind his head. He was greatly amused by the faces of the Galra in the room, and decided that he would take this to the next level. Their own plan reversed and used against them.

The Cuban leaned back forward, bent over the table as he grabbed another beaker. It was fizzing, so he assumed carbonated soda. It was indeed Diet Coke, or something similar.

"Man, these poisons are failing at their jobs. The first is in many dishes back home, the second is used to keep people awake, and this one is soda. We drink it as a common beverage or a treat." He snatched a carton next, pulling out a piece of pineapple. "Mmm, bromelain. The snack that eats you back." He popped the fruit into his mouth, then a few more, chewing with vigor at the delicious taste. Oh how he had missed Earth foods.

He proceeded to wash down the snack with some of the next beaker, though he stopped halfway through chugging it when he realized what it was.

"Shiro will kill me if I get drunk, and I'm not risking it to prove a point. Ethanol may be a fun recreational drink, but not for kids." The Galra seemed more alarmed at that (though Lance would only later learn it was a combination of him referring to himself as a kid and calling ethanol a fun recreational drink), but Lance was already grabbing the container of clear liquid.

"Seriously? You guys think water is poisonous?"

"THAT IS DIHYDROGEN MONOXIDE AND YOU SHOULD BE DEAD TEN TIMES OVER!" the commander screamed in the Terran's face. Said Terran sighed.

"Bud, humans need dihydrogen monoxide, or water as we call it, in order to survive. Our planet is literally 70% of this stuff. It rains this stuff. We sweat this stuff. I told you that there weren't any methods that could get me to talk. Now pass over those mint leaves and whatever else you think should kill me. I want to save it for Hunk so we can have some food that actually has flavor for once."

The alarms blared before any of the soldiers or higher-up could respond. All personnel rushed from the room, desperate to leave the human behind. Lance was perfectly happy to wait. Chances are they would forget about Pidge due to his terror tactics, and that meant that the sentries would-

Yep, there they were, powering down. The others must've been spotted on the cameras while getting the female Paladin out. Lance got to his feet, whistling a merry tune. He put all the containers and the plate back into the box, closing the lid. With a small heave, he began his way out, carrying his cargo towards where the Lions were most likely to be held.

About five minutes into his rather casual escape, Keith and Pidge came barreling around a corner. The smaller one let out a sigh of relief, pleased to see her brother-in-arms unharmed. Both showed confusion at the box, but neither questioned it, reserving that for later when they weren't on an enemy ship. Instead, they each grabbed a side of the Blue Paladin and his cargo, and took off once more for the exit route.

It took them an hour to get back to the Castle, between lugging the box back to the Green Lion, taking care of any soldiers between them and their escape, and getting rid of the cruisers. Lance immediately disembarked the robotic feline and headed for the kitchen, box in his arms. The other Paladins followed after, curious as to what was so important their comrade risked his freedom to obtain it. Pidge and Keith also wanted to get the story of how Lance wasn't locked up or injured in any way when they found him.

In the kitchen, the Blue Paladin of Voltron began unloading the contents of his prize, and Pidge immediately whipped out a scanner. Her face lit up at the sight of her screen, recognizing what the information was saying about the 'poisons'.

"No. Way," she whispered, looking up at Lance with the biggest smile ever. "No. Quiznacking. WAY! OH MY GLOB, YOU FOUND EARTH FOOD!"

"That's Earth food?" Hunk picked up.

"Quiznack yeah! No more tasteless goop!"

"You risked not escaping to get food?"

"Shiro," Lance called, silencing the chaos that was rising. "I told them that we Paladins are trained in the art of torture and can withstand both our own pain and watching each other in pain. Told them that there wasn't anything they had that could hurt us enough to break our wills." Shiro blanched for a moment before he realized what that meant. The Galra would always take whatever the Paladins said as truth. "That commander that tried to torture me thought he had some great way to break me... Poison."

"They thought these were poisons?" Keith asked incredulously. Lance nodded.

"Not only did it let me know that they don't know anything about humans who train against torture, but also nothing about human biology. I mean, even if all of this was actually toxic to us, a lot of people that learn to resist torture build up immunities to poison as well. They know nothing about us. And guess what, Hunk?"

"Hmm?" Hunk's eyes caught the mischievous glint in his bro's eyes. This was gonna be good.

"The first thing they gave me... a scoop of capsaicin."

"No way." Matching grins spread on the duo's faces. At the Garrison, in their first three months there, Lance would eat jalepenos with every meal thanks to the large variety of food the cafeteria provided. A benefit of going to a prestigious school that felt a little bad about how hard it pushed its students. He kept eating the peppers at every meal and as snacks for his entire school experience, but in those first three months, the other students couldn't seem to believe it. Some thought he was exaggerating his tolerance of spiciness, and some wanted to see how much he could handle. Soon enough, there were kids buying the spiciest foods and peppers they could, then going up to Lance at meals or between classes to bet against him eating it. Every single time, Lance would accept the bet, devour the food, and pull the money from his stunned peers' fingers. Several occasions, he was late to Iverson's class and was seen towing whatever frozen kid had bet that time behind him. Iverson hated it when that happened, mostly because every other student vouched that it wasn't Lance's fault and that he was probably suffering an awful burning sensation at that very moment. He wasn't.

By the end of those three months, he had gained over $3,000 from the bets, and the faculty couldn't do anything. He split the money with Hunk, especially when his roommate used that money to buy spices for food he would always share with the Cuban. Throughout the rest of the school year, whenever someone new transferred in, the other students convinced them to do a bet as well, if only so they could watch someone else suffer as they had suffered. It continued the next year as a tradition, with former peers tricking both younger and older kids to bet, and some bringing in items they had saved just for that occasion. Pidge was never tricked into betting, due to her insistence on being alone, and neither was Keith, because he was an extreme loner that no one could seem to befriend.

Hunk and Lance therefore both knew that there was no way aliens, who couldn't handle capsaicin, who had practically tasteless food because of their intolerances, could somehow give Lance something spicy enough to hurt him in any way.

"Someone want to clue us in?" Pidge asked, eyeing the rest of the Garrison Trio.

"Did you ever hear about the Spice King?" Hunk shot back, as way of a response.

"I did," Keith interjected. "I never met them, but I heard that it was someone who could eat anything from bell peppers to Carolina Reapers and still make it to class on time."

"Oh, I think I did, too," Pidge exclaimed. "I heard in passing, but I was so obsessed back then that I never found out anything more than they existed."

"Well, the Spice King was a kid in our year," Hunk started. "He was this dude who could indeed eat anything spicy. The only reason he was ever late to class was because he made sure that whoever gave him the food got there as well. They almost always froze up because he would just accept what they gave and eat it on the spot. Kids in our year bet against him every day, multiple times on some. The dude earned a few thousand because they wouldn't stop. Usually, students would convince others to bet against him just because they wanted it to be done by everyone. Happened every year as well."

"Adam told me about that kid. Apparently, the teachers couldn't do anything to stop the betting. It wasn't gambling because the outcome was always the same and it wasn't like anything was being sold. Do you know who he is?" Shiro had his arms crossed as he stared curiously at the Yellow Paladin, who was now beaming in excitement.

"It was Lance."

Silence.

"The Galra tried to feed me, the Spice King, a spoonful of spice to make me give them information. Apparently, it was supposed to burn really badly. It wasn't even that bad. Barely jalepeno level. And then the commander went for some really dark liquid, and at that point, I was like 'if they think capsaicin is poison, what else do they got that is poison to them, but not to me' and so I just took the beaker from them and downed it. It turned out to be black tea, and I just gave up on the whole pretending to be a prisoner because they thought I was gonna die from caffeine. Caffeine. If I remember correctly, I had soda, water, pineapple, and a bit of alcohol, but- but," Lance held up a hand to stop Shiro's lecture, "I only chugged it because I didn't know what it was and I stopped the moment that I realized it was ethanol. Although, to be honest, it was really watered down. Well, not watered down, because water is supposedly toxic, but it was real weak. Like, a preteen could probably drink that entire beaker and it wouldn't do anything. It's right... here." He pushed the glass container towards Shiro, knowing that the man would want the alcohol away from children and near his own mouth. The dude was a tired dad in every sense. "Anyways, they got really terrified, especially when I kept making remarks about Terran uses for each 'poison', so all the Galra rushed out the moment the alarm went off, and then Pidge shut the sentries down so I just packed up the box and brought it along. I thought we'd all enjoy some flavor in our food. I also wanted- no, I needed the spice. Spice is life."

Shiro sighed, and picked up the beaker of ethanol, plainly about to down the entire thing. He was prevented from doing so - and the others were prevented from asking their burning questions - by a high-pitched, very terrified voice.

"PUT THAT DOWN, NUMBER ONE! IT'S HIGHLY TOXIC!"

"WHY IS THERE A BOX OF POISONS ON THE TABLE? GET THEM PUT AWAY, QUICKLY!"

"NUMBER THREE, STEP AWAY FROM THEM, YOU'LL BE DEAD IN TICKS IF THOSE TOUCH YOU!"

"Woah, woah, guys, it's okay," Shiro attempted to calm the Alteans.

"IT IS VERY MUCH NOT OKAY! WHY DID YOU EVEN BRING THOSE ABOARD?"

"PUT THE BEAKER DOWN, NUMBER ONE! WE NEED YOU ALIVE! THINK OF YOUR CHILDREN!"

"QUIET!" the Black Paladin snapped, patience running out like a little kid runs out of Halloween candy. The aliens fell silent, staring in shock at the leader of Voltron. Said man held out the glass, tipped it slightly in a cheers that showed the liquid quite clearly, then swiftly pulled it to his lips and drank the entire thing in one go. Allura and Coran both gasped in terror, eyes comically wide as they could only gape at the human. Shiro finished the drink off with a satisfied exhale, his own eyes closing for a moment as he simply took in the moment.

"Well, you were right about it being weak. I don't think an entire barrel of that stuff could make me so much as dizzy. And princess, Coran, this stuff isn't poisonous. At least, the- uh... Lance, what's the stuff that's in what you had?"

"Bromelain, caffeine, capsaicin, dihydrogen monoxide, ethanol, and carbonation."

"Those aren't poisonous to humans. They're actually considered common foods and drinks on Earth. Once Pidge finishes scanning it all, Hunk'll probably include it in our meals. No offense to either of you, but your food is awful. It's so bland that I once licked a rock I found on a planet just because it was salty and took away from the horrible taste that goo left in my mouth."

"Oh, I remember that," Keith put in. "That's why we got those salt-licks from the Earth store at our last mall trip."

"You- how are you not dead?" Allura finally blurted out, face tinging blue.

"Ethanol, or alcohol as we humans call it, is a large part of human culture. It used to be safer to consume products with ethanol than it was to consume just water, so people gained higher tolerances to it. It still affects us, and we can still die, but if it's taken in moderation and you wait until your body is fully matured, the effects are extremely minimal. Even now that most people have access to clean water, alcohol consumption is a common recreational activity. That said, Lance, you better drink lots of water. However weak that stuff was, I don't want to risk anything." Lance nodded as Coran spoke up.

"You consume ethanol, a known poison, which is still considered toxic to humans, for fun?" A nod answered. "What about the C18H27NO3? And the C39H66N2O29? C8H10N4O2? H2O?"

"Translation?"

"Capsaicin, bromelain, caffeine, and water."

"Oh, well, capsaicin is a poison found in peppers and I think a few other plants. Humans use it as a seasoning, and depending on where each person is from and how they grew up, tolerance levels vary. For example, Lance can eat a pepper that burns your hands severely. His tolerance is really high, probably one of the highest I've heard of. He was famous at the Garrison for it. On the other hand, I can barely handle a jalapeno, which is a pretty mild in comparison. Scratch that, it is very mild when compared to a Carolina Reaper."

"Bromelain is known to be toxic as well. But for us humans, it usually only causes a tingling or itching in the mouth, occasionally mild reactions in our stomachs as well. Our saliva and stomach acids digest the bromelain before it digests us, and so many people enjoy consuming pineapple, which contains bromelain, as a snack. There's even this big, extremely long dispute about whether pineapple should be put on pizza or not. Personally, we all had that discussion, and have agreed to each their own."

"Caffeine is commonly found in coffee and some teas, and in many sodas, which are all beverages. Chocolate is a treat that also can contain caffeine, and it's eaten by basically everyone who isn't allergic. Caffeine has been known to have adverse effects on people, but it's much like ethanol: consume in moderation and it won't do as much harm. It's actually used to help people focus and become more aware of their surroundings. What I wouldn't give for a cup of coffee."

"Black?"

"Common misconception. I actually enjoy mochas."

"Nice, but have you tried a con panna?"

"I was going to but my plan was derailed by a certain Empire of purple aliens."

"We have to get coffee at the Earth store. Or maybe a poison store. I mean, if caffeine is poison, the odds are good it'll be there. Then, Kaltenecker and I are making you the best con panna ever." Allura cleared her throat to gain Shiro's attention once more.

"What about dihydrogen monoxide? How is that considered nontoxic?" All five humans exchanged amused looks, chuckles slipping out at the chaos they were about to unleash.

"Princess, dihydrogen monoxide covers 71% of our planet. Most weather revolves around it and humans are actually made up of 60% water, with our brains being about three-quarters of water. We need to consume dihydrogen monoxide to live. I think the only reason we didn't die from dehydration is because the Castle started producing water for us. Really glad, too. Dehydration is an awful way to go."

"Your water is dihydrogen monoxide?"

"What's your water?"

"We Alteans did not have water. It's only translated because of other races and their need for liquids. Coran and I gain most of our fluids from goo and hydration pouches."

"Okay, so what does dihydrogen monoxide do to most species?"

"Number One... think instant death."

"Can we put this aside for now?" Hunk called out. He was holding the spice in his hands, running his fingers like it was solid gold.

"What're planning on making?" And just like that, the Alteans and their dismay were left behind to discuss something else. Allura and Coran exchanged looks and swiftly left once again to the control room, pulling up their new log.

Humans are extremely resistant to toxins. Many chemicals in Terran foods and drinks are highly poisonous to most other races. A list of known poisons in Terran victuals is included below. Some of these are actually harmful to humans, yet they will still be consumed. Once again, a list is included of these chemicals. Important chemicals to remember for the care of humans are caffeine and ethanol. Caffeine can be used to bring a human into a more alert and focused state. Effectiveness is yet to be discovered, and the chemical should be given in extreme moderation until more data is collected. Ethanol is known to be harmful to Terrans, but is still used as a recreational drink. Sparingly give to humans, and only when they are stressed or somber. It is a rule that only fully matured humans are allowed to consume this beverage, given the harmful effects.

Dihydrogen monoxide covers a little under 3/4 of Earth's surface, and is necessary for the survival of humans. Under no circumstances is it to be kept away from a Terran who requests the substance. Terran weather usually includes dihydrogen monoxide, so caution is advised when visiting Earth. Until further information is gathered, avoiding visiting the planet at all would be prudent. Be warned that humans are 60% dihydrogen monoxide, so touching a human's skin or fluids would be very dangerous and should be prevented at all costs, especially if a being is unprotected and/or particularly susceptible to the substance. Humans will likely not realize they are covered in poison, so it is best if they are reminded each time they meet with a being from another race, until they remember on their own.

Data is still being collected about this species. Approach with caution.

#voltron #vld #oneshots #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #voltron oneshots #humans are weird oneshots

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Four: Midnight Pharmacy

Hi again! Just the fourth instalment of my Chishiya x OC/ x reader fic. You can find the all the chapters so far on AO3 here. 

Thank you to all the kind people who’ve liked and commented so far. Hopefully you’ll enjoy this chapter too (and hopefully it wasn’t boring haha) :)

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I fell to my knees, shuddering. We did it. We made it. It was close, but we won. My relief was short-lived, however, as the tagger shifted upright. The movement caused his horse-head mask to fall off, revealing, not an ex-military man, but instead, an older woman.

Oh god no…

She looked around frantically, tears and fear welling in her eyes. A metal collar around her neck started flashing, and a small yelp escaped her lips as the collar exploded, drenching the white walls red with her blood.

My eyes burned. I couldn’t tear them away. I couldn’t breathe or move with the impact of what had just happened. And it seems that I wasn’t the only one, because the room was silent.

She was an old woman… scared…. She was a player too, and we killed her by surviving.

I peeled my eyes from her limp body and looked down. I was covered in blood, only some of it my own. My hands were red and slick too, and when I swallowed, there was a tang of metal.  

Movement caught the corner of my vision. It was Chishiya. He casually inspected the carnage, his eyes shifting from the body, to the walls, to me.

He’s so… unbothered.

He leaned against the doorframe as the other man and the climber girl slowly made their way out of the room. They walked slowly, refusing to look at the woman’s drained features. There was a faint click as the door to the apartment closed, and we were alone.

He strolled to the centre of the room, taking a good look at the buttons, before crouching over the tagger’s body. Something instinctual stirred within me as he began to root through her pockets. I wanted to tell him to leave her alone, that she didn’t deserve to be prodded and poked, but I didn’t have the words. It was like they had been ripped from my throat.

He pulled something out of her coat – a square piece of paper – and unfolded it. I couldn’t see it from where I was sat, but he stared at it for a long moment before slipping it into his pocket.

‘Are you going to keep sitting there on the floor?’

‘She was a player.’ The words felt worse saying them aloud. They tasted bad. ‘She was fighting for her own life too.’

Chishiya turned around, presumably to make some kind of snarky comment. Instead, his eyes were serious. ‘It must hurt by now.’

He was looking at my gunshot wound. With my uninjured arm, I patted the area around the marred skin, feeling pure, sharp pain shoot through.

‘I forgot all about it.’

He stood slowly, then moved to the doorway. ‘Come with me,’ he said, and disappeared into the other room.  

I don’t know why I did it. A part of me hated him. A part of me owed him my life. Hell, a part of me wondered if his casual cruelty was just a coping mechanism for everything going on around us. But no matter why I did it, I clambered unsteadily to my feet and followed.

He was waiting for me outside the apartment, and I closed the door softly behind me as the electricity began to shut off. In silence, we descended the central staircase and made our way out of the building. A hard rain had begun to fall, the drops washing away the blood from my face, hands and hair… washing away the evidence… washing away her existence like that collar.

Never even once looking back, Chishiya led me down the road and through twisted streets before coming to a stop outside a pharmacy. The door was open, unlocked, but inside some of the shelves had been scavenged. Making his way behind the counter, he disappeared into the shelves at the back. I could hear the rustles and crinkles of wrappers and packaging as he picked out items. Wandering around the room, I caught sight of myself in a small mirror.

I was still covered in specks of blood. Her blood.

A spike of nausea hit me. Grabbing a half-drunk water bottle abandoned on the counter, I used the remaining water inside to scrub away the dried blood that the rain hadn’t cleared. I only felt slightly more at ease once I started to look like myself again.

Chishiya returned carrying several rolls of bandages, dressings, a bottle of some kind of antiseptic and a sterile cloth still wrapped in packaging. Dumping them on the countertop, he pointed to a desk chair lurking in front of the till. Again, I don’t know exactly why I obeyed so easily. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, combined with the throbbing torture of my arm, that left me too tired to argue. He pulled up a stool and sat across from me, a little too close. Every time he leaned forward, I could see the jut of his collar bone, could smell the laundry detergent of his clothes.

‘Your jacket needs to come off,’ he said.  

‘I don’t think I can move my arm. You were right, it’s killing me.’

‘It still needs to come off,’ he replied, and with a surprising amount of care, began to peel the shoulder of my torn jacket away.

Biting my lip against the pain, I tried not to shriek as he slowly maneuvered my arm out of its sleeve. Once free, I shrugged the ruined jacket to the ground. It was useless now. He briefly turned away to rub his hands with alcohol, before scrutinizing the wound.

‘You’re lucky,’ he concluded. ‘The bullet only grazed you, and it doesn’t need stitches.’

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. ‘Oh, lucky me. It still hurts like hell.’

‘Well, it’s about to hurt more,’ Chishiya said, as he took the sterile cloth out of its packaging and reached for the bottle of antiseptic.  

Before I’d even had the chance to register his words, he pressed the dampened cloth to the wound. This time, I couldn’t hold back a cry, and I put my hand in my mouth, biting as hard as I could in distraction. Meanwhile, he continued to clean the wound, unaffected by my struggles. By the time he’d finished and pulled away, I saw that look in his eyes once more. The same one that he’d given me in the entrance of the Tag game, that left me feeling like a tiny being trapped by a monster.

‘The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,’ I whispered under my breath between wheezes.

He raised a brow in silent question.

‘It’s from a poem,’ I explained. ‘I have known the eyes already, known them all –

the eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, and when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, when I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, then how should I begin.’

Chishiya had stopped what he was doing. ‘Do bullet wounds normally make you recite poetry?’

I glared at him. ‘Of course not. I just realised something. The way you look at me sometimes… it makes me feel like a bug, like I’m a specimen and you’re studying me. I hate it when you look at me like that.’

He seemed to consider this for a moment, then unwrapped a dressing from its sterile packaging. ‘Do you read poetry a lot?’

From his tone of voice, I could tell that he didn’t care. He was probably just finding ways to fill the silence as he pressed the dressing down firmly.

‘I studied it,’ I confessed. ‘I have a Masters, and I’d just graduated before, you know, ending up here.’

He scoffed as he unwrapped a roll of bandages. ‘There is no use in studying fiction. It’s a waste of time.’

His answer didn’t surprise me. I was used to people looking down on my passion and my subject. Even in my own family, it was my brother who supported my decision. As for my father…

‘It’s not a waste,’ I insisted. ‘It’s not even about the fictional bits. It’s about life and finding meaning and purpose in everything.’

Chishiya’s hands stilled. ‘Tell me, then,’ he began, ‘what meaning could you possibly find in books that you couldn’t find here? Every game you play pushes you to the edge of survival. There is no more meaning to life than that.’ He paused, looking me coldly in the eye. ‘When you used my taser on the tagger… when she died simply because you lived… where were your books then?’

I froze. His words were callous, edged with bitterness, and I couldn’t really deny them. But I wouldn’t expect someone like him to understand. He would never understand.

‘What did you do then?’ I muttered coldly. ‘In your previous life, I mean. It must’ve been something huge and super important then.’

He didn’t reply. Maybe it was a touchy subject, or maybe he just didn’t want to make small talk. Instead, he busied himself with winding bandages around my arm, his cool fingertips occasionally brushing my skin.

‘Fine then,’ I said, ‘don’t answer me. But I have another thing I need help with understanding.’

He was silent, waiting.

‘I… I admit, I still haven’t figured out what the difficulty levels mean… or even how the visas work.’

He hummed with vague amusement. ‘It shouldn’t be that difficult to work out… I must’ve overestimated your intelligence.’

The comment was clearly intended to get me to rise to it, but I refused to go for the bait. I genuinely needed his help understanding how these games worked, how the system worked, how this entire alternate Tokyo worked. Falling into his snide traps wouldn’t help me, even if every word he said rattled me deep down inside.

After a few moments silence, he finished tying the bandage around my arm and removed his hands, tucking them to his pockets. But he didn’t move away, and now that he wasn’t giving me first aid, the closeness between our bodies had become distinctly uncomfortable. I was suddenly aware that his knee touched mine.

‘It’s simple,’ he said at last. ‘The number from one to ten is the difficulty, but the card suit represents the type of game. The first game we played together, that was a Clubs game. Clubs are based on teamwork. And then there’s Diamonds games, which are based on intelligence.’

I nodded, as it began to click. My first game was built around strategy, so naturally it would be a Diamonds game. Meanwhile the Jack in the Box game was entirely based on working as a team. In the first game there could only be one winner, whereas in the second we had to open both doors and save each other.

‘And Spades?’ I asked.

‘Spades games can be hard,’ he continued. ‘Like the game we just had, they focus more on physical ability. But it’s Hearts games that are the most fun.’

I blinked. ‘Fun?’

He nodded, lips curling at the corners. ‘Hearts games are about betrayal… toying with people’s emotions.’

I gulped. It sounded horrible, like a game of manipulation.

‘Doesn’t sound like fun if you ask me,’ I said.

He laughed, a quiet huff of air. ‘It’s interesting to see what people are willing to do in order to survive.’

The words sent a shiver through me. The thought that Chishiya may be a genuine psychopath had occurred to me before, however I was reluctant to consider it. He clearly viewed the people around him as things to be looked down upon, to be analysed for their behavioural ticks. He wasn’t interested in doing anything that didn’t benefit himself in some way, that was clear. And yet, here he was, bandaging my wounds. But for what gain? It couldn’t be for his own… unless he had an ulterior motive.

‘Why are we here?’ I whispered. ‘Why did you really bring me here?’

‘Because I thought you might have potential.’

‘Potential for what?’ I pried. ‘You mean, for the games?’

Leaning back on his stool, he let the question settle in the air for just a second too long. It only took that extra second of silence for the atmosphere to drop even further into discomfort, like a song playing just a half-beat too slow.

‘Have you heard of the Beach?’ he asked.

‘The Beach?’

He let out a short sigh, as if I had disappointed him somehow. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t have, since you’re still new to this world.’ He pulled his headphones out of his pocket, beginning to untangle the wires. ‘The Beach isn’t really a beach. It’s a hotel. But it has food, shelter, electricity, hot water… all the comforts of the real world.’ Hesitating, he added. ‘It’s a utopia.’

This time, it was my turn to snicker.

‘A utopia? ‘I laughed, joyless. ‘There’s no such thing. Did you forget what I told you? I’ve studied literature. People know all about dystopias, places that are bad, and they assume that utopias are the opposite – a good place. But the whole idea of a utopia as a perfect society was created by a man named Thomas More. He wrote a book called Utopia. It’s about a fictional island, a place where everyone lives in harmony.’ I leaned forward, smiling triumphantly in spite of the pain that shot through my arm. ‘But here’s the thing – it’s just fiction. The actual Greek word ‘utopia’ doesn’t mean good place. It means no place. More was being ironic. Societies are a reflection of the people within them, and humans are naturally flawed. So an ideal society could never possibly exist.’

I fell silent, hoping that I had suitably ruined Chishiya’s attempt to recruit me into his group. But he didn’t seem at all phased by anything I had said. He was quietly observing me as if all my knowledge was some form of mild entertainment to him. After a minute of silence, things were starting to get really awkward.

Mumbling, I added, ‘I don’t recommend his book. It’s a bit of a dull read.’

‘I can imagine,’ he replied, finally. ‘Reading something like that would be a waste of time.’

Any pride I felt after my little speech suddenly deflated. How does he always manage to find a way to put me down?

His eyes lowered, as if considering something. ‘You do have potential to be of use to the Beach. If you come with me now, you’ll be welcomed in—’

‘I don’t want to go with you,’ I said. ‘I don’t care about your utopia. I just want to survive.’

‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘But you will join the Beach sooner or later. Every night our people take part in games. The others from the Jack in the Box game, they were members. And in the Tag game, the two men in the elevator with you.’

Listening to the way he talked about the place, it didn’t seem like he cared much for it. He had walked away during the Eight of Clubs game despite one of his ‘members’ having died.

‘What are you saying?’ I asked, knowing I probably wouldn’t like the answer.

‘I’m saying that you’ll come across our members repeatedly. And chances are, they’ll try to approach you like I have. Take it from me, they won’t be so nice about it.’

Does he mean that they’ll force me to join? They can’t possibly… could they?

I shook my head firmly. This conversation was over. ‘I’m sorry, but no. Thank you for the offer, and for treating my arm, but I’d rather take my chances.’

He shrugged and got to his feet. The air suddenly felt colder now as he moved away, sauntering towards the door. ‘Suit yourself. But we’ll see each other again, and not necessarily in a game.’

And with that, he left me alone in the pharmacy, the door swinging closed behind him.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

[kalle-and-lita]

My half of the art trade with @tagedeszorns featuring their OC Doriel. I can't even begin to tell you how much of a joy it was to work with the mun and their muse!

~~

Lita cast a furtive glance down the long halls of the palace. It was so quiet she could hear the beat of her heart thunder in her ears. Perhaps it was because she was leaving work so close to curfew. Only the foolish would dare to walk the empty streets lest they incur the wrath of the Night Haunter.

Maybe it was the fear of her mistress, whose rage was easily incited these days. Several members of the staff had already gone missing. Lita wasn't fool enough to believe they had just left.

Or perhaps, her nervousness was due to the large platter of food she clutched to. Taking food, even uneaten, was akin to stealing from the barons. If she was caught she'd be killed without a second thought.

But she was on a mission, and she would not be deterred. So Lita steeled her nerves and made her escape as quiet as she could. Every step was carefully planned, every corner scrutinized until she was sure she was safe and alone. She didn't breathe easy until she passed through the servants entrance and out onto the streets.

There was the faintest drizzle pouring from the sky. A cacophony of lights twinkled in the perpetual dark, reflecting off dirty glass windows and pools of stagnant water in the broken streets. Above the familiar hum of the city Lita noted the blessed silence. No screaming, no gunfire. Orderly silence since the whispers had begun.

Whispers of a silent stalker in the night. A savior to the weak who suffered beneath the heel of the barons and their crime lords. Night Haunter they called him, and his was a name revered with fear and awe. Rumors persisted of his speed, his ferocity. While she had not seen his handiwork for herself, Lita knew the tales of the flayed criminals he left out as warning. To take caution because if you caught his gaze there would be no one to save you from him.

Lita's reverie was broken by the sound of shoes scuffing cobblestone. Just like the nights before they came out of the shadows like pale little spirits. Four in total with the youngest looking no older than five or six. The oldest approached first, crossing the street once he was sure they were all alone. He was strange for a Nostromon; his hair was the color of a fire blazing away in the adamantium furnaces. Though he still possessed the pallid complexion and the hardened, steel black gaze of his kin.

"Hello," Lita smiled, "I'm glad you boys are safe. I brought the good stuff from the kitchen."

The redhead eyed her sharply, a frown etched into his features. The smaller shadows of his gang pressed at his back threateningly,

"Ah," Lita warned, waving a scolding finger at them, "Unless you want to go back to eating garbage and refuse I suggest you play nice."

"Fuck off." The redhead snapped over his shoulder. His mates backed off, though they still possessed a hungry look in their eyes. Sure that they weren't going to cause trouble, the young boy turned back to her, "What you want for it?"

"We have this conversation every time." She sighed, she popped the lid off one of the bowls of food. A hearty, and savoury aroma filled the air. If the boys looked hungry before they were absolutely ravenous now. "I don't want anything more than the satisfaction of you boys being well fed."

The redhead shot her a venomous glare, "I still say it's bullshit. Ain't nobody that nice."

"So you don't want the food then?" She teased, the younger kids hissed at their leader,

"Shut up, Doriel, before you ruin it!" One hissed. The young boy, Doriel, scowled right back,

"I ain't ruining shit! Look, bitch, just hand over the food and we'll get out of your hair."

Lita chuckled but pointedly ignored Doriel's rather colorful language. The large bowl of stew was all but yanked from her hands and she happily watched as the children ate. More than once the young redheaded boy thumped one of his mates on the shoulder, a silent admonishment for taking more than a fair share.

And they scampered off just as quick as they came with Doriel offering a cursory glance back at her. She nodded a farewell and tossed the now empty bowl, all too eager to navigate the eerie streets of the upper districts. Her feet pounded against hard stone as she ran, a desperate bid to get to the shops before curfew descended upon her. 

Luck was not completely on her side tonight, however. Lita cringed as the shop door slammed shut behind her and locked tight. Lights flickered off, leaving her alone on the dark sidewalk. Her gaze flickered to the shadowy corners around her, their long tendrils closing in on her.

She didn't make it a habit to be out past curfew. A nervous tension settled in her belly as she set off for home. Her footsteps echoed loudly, bouncing off the high buildings ominously. Each passing minute was like agony, the eerie silence fraying at her nerves until there was a burning itch between her shoulder blades.

Lita tensed at the feeling.

She was no stranger to this sensation of being watched. Years of service to the barons, and even her years on the streets, had refined her sense of awareness. All the better to know when to run or hide.

But this was not the first night she felt the piercing gaze of the unknown stalker's eyes. For weeks she walked home with the proverbial dagger aimed at her back, ever nervous for an attack that had yet to come.

Lita turned a sharp corner in an effort to evade her stalker. A stupid idea to turn into the pitch black of the alleyway, but she knew it to be a shortcut home and she was desperate. Her heart thundered away in her ears even as her footsteps echoed on the walls. Save for the drizzling of the rain there was nary a sound above the hum of quiet.

Then, just behind her, she heard something hit the ground. If she hadn't been listening so keenly she wouldn't have heard it. Lita froze with a gasp, a chill ran down her spine and the burn in her shoulder blades grew hot. There was a presence at her back, she could feel its hot breath on her neck.

Against her better judgement she turned to look, oh so slowly spinning on her heels. She came face to face with a monstrously large Nostromon man, the pitch black of his eyes drawing her in. His thin strands of black hair stuck to his face, and fell over his shoulders as he sat nearly hunched over her. Lita blinked dumbly, mouth agape in terror.

All at once her sense of self preservation kicked in as a smile crossed his face. A set of wicked sharp teeth gleamed at her and the fear in her gut rose well past the point of control.

So Lita did what any normal person would do and panicked. And in her panic she did the very first thing that sprang to mind, and she threw her grocery bags at him. She didn't bother to stick around to see his reaction. She was far too interested in running as fast her poor legs could carry her.

And she didn't stop running until she was safely back in her apartment. The keys clattered to the floor and her back hit the door. Her lungs burned and her legs gave out, and Lita hit the ground with a hard thud while her mind tried to wrap around what just happened.

He'd been so quiet. That thought scared her more than she cared to admit. How was it possible that someone so large could be so silent?! And she was fairly certain that the only reason she'd known he was there was because he let her see him.

Just who was he? Why was he following her?

Cold realization hit her hard as she came down from her adrenal high. The whispered tales of the few who'd seen the Night Haunter and lived. Of the man draped in shadow and blood, larger than life who took no qualms in spilling the blood of the guilty.

"Oh gods," Lita's hands flew to her mouth, "Oh gods!"

And she had just hit him.

In the face.

With her grocery bags!

She sprang to her feet and ran to check her windows, futile as it seemed. If the Night Haunter wanted to get to her windows were not going to stop him. For the better part of an hour she paced the confines of her apartment, awaiting retribution despite her own perceived innocence. Fixated on the fact that she had thrown her food at the Night Haunter in blind panic.

Lita resented the fact that if she was going to die, she was going to do so hungry.

The burn eventually came back. Fear turned to trepidation as she paused at her living room window. The balcony was empty, wet with the rain. She took a few deep breaths before she opened the sliding glass door. Before she could second guess herself she leaned onto the railing and took another deep breath.

"I'm sorry!" She shouted into the night. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. "I swear I didn't know it was you. I wouldn't have hit you if I had. I'm so sorry!"

A long moment of silence passed until she picked up the sound of something dragging on the roof behind her. She turned her gaze up to find the Night Haunter casually perched on the roof edge, black eyes boring right into her skull. She averted her gaze in embarrassment.

"I am so, so sorry." She repeated, "I wasn't expecting to be followed, and you appearing out of nowhere startled me, and I panicked..."

She was bumbling like an idiot, trapped between him and the railing. But his silence was making her nervous. Lita felt the hot flush warm her face.

Then, something hit the ground. Lita jumped then stooped over to find her grocery bag, albeit missing some of its contents but still intact. She looked up, still under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhhm," she stuttered, awkwardly collecting her bag and shuffling towards the door, "Thank you."

He blinked at her, expression neutral even as he watched her slip inside and close the door.

The itch in her shoulder blades didn't cease as she put away her groceries and started dinner. She tried to ignore it for the most part, though she couldn't help but wonder why he was sticking around. Surely there were more interesting things to do than watch her?

She found her way back to the balcony door eventually, after setting her stew to a simmer. The Night Haunter now perched on the railing so he could peer in. She slid open the door to poke her head out.

"Hi." Lita muttered, he blinked again and let the awkward silence stretch out, "Uh, I made food. Did you want some?"

No answer save for his endless staring. Lita swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped back,

"I'll, uh, leave the door open for you then."

She retreated back to the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. The minutes passed as she slowly stirred the stew, lost in the rhythmic motions. That was until she felt a presence hunched over her shoulder. Lita dared not look up, instead she simply muttered under her breath,

"I think I need to get you a bell."

#art trade #warhammer 30k #konrad curze #lita #warhammer40k #night lord #Doriel #my writing #night haunter

[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 4 - Rain

I can barely believe that it’s Day 4 already. Also that I’m on time for this one, because I didn’t think I was going to be. It’s a welcome surprise! This particular piece is much more of an angst/whump piece, but there’s still a bit of sweetness attached to it. 2020 is just the year of angsty Makoto, I guess! Anyway, I hope you like it! Feel free to let me know what you think.

Oh, and please keep in mind that this does contain some rather graphic depictions of death and violence. Be sure to play on the safe side if that’s not your thing. Thank you so much for your time and attention!

______________________________________

Makoto was about to shower for the first time in four years.

 Of course, that wasn’t to say that the man never bathed – quite the opposite, really. He tended to bathe rather frequently; it was just way he did it that changed the conversation. After all, taking baths was still apart of good hygiene. It was just widely regarded as less convenient to bathe that way. What was a man to do? There was something about standing under the showerhead, watching the water bead onto the tile and slowly roll away… Something about it just made his skin crawl.

 Well, perhaps it was wrong to say “something” when he was well aware of the cause. Four years since the School Life of Mutual Killing, and the image of her never left his mind. Sweet, beautiful Sayaka with a fractured wrist and a knife plunged into her stomach, blood pooling all over her belly and lap. Her eyes shut in a way that could not possibly have looked peaceful even if he wanted it to. Her last message to him written across the wall in disjoined letters – a final plea for him to try and survive. She’d signed her death warrant, yet she refused to sign off on his as well. Kyoko told him that he should take some comfort in that, but it was a comfort he could only half-hold. In truth, try as she might, there was nothing that Kyoko could tell him to take away that pain.

 That was why he was where he was, actually. Kyoko’s inability to remedy his pain. He’d been trying for ages now to counteract the thoughts and feelings associated with the shower, but none of his attempts bore fruit. Even Kyoko’s strategies, helpful as they usually were, did little to assist him. At this point, she could only hope to support him through his struggle. So, when he came to the decision to finally step foot in the shower once more, she did as she always did – supported him as best she could.

 Some would find it weird that a couple who had only recently started having sex would so readily strip down to nothingness and jump into the shower together, but neither he nor his wife found this to be a situation way out of their comfort zone. It wasn’t like the situation would be overtly sexual in any way, shape, or form. They would just be two people like any other, showering in each other’s presence. That was it.

 Still, Makoto wondered if perhaps it was pent-up awkwardness that made his hands tremble as he moved to lift his shirt off over his head, or if shower nerves were getting the best of him. He would always feel flustered at the sight of his wife completely undressed, but this felt like so much more. Within seconds he his throat started to dry up, and his heart picked up its pace. God, he wondered if this was a good idea. It had seemed like one at the time, but now he knew he had second thoughts.

 “Are you sure you want to do this?”

 It was like Kyoko sensed his anxiety without him having to lend his voice to it. It was almost funny that even after all that time together, he still found himself surprised by her ability to read him. She did still insist on referring to him as “Mr. Open Book”; she’d just also begun to refer to herself as “Mrs. Open Book”. Not that that was true, but he appreciated her joke about their marriage nonetheless. Her playfulness brought him respite.

 “Honestly… no,” he answered, pushing a hand through his hair, “I don’t know what’s going to happen if I do, but I don’t want to keep avoiding it like this.”

 Kyoko frowned. “What’s the problem with not showering? There’s nothing wrong with you only taking baths. Regardless, you still emerge cleaner than you were when you entered.”

 His shoulders rose and fell lazily; his eyes drifting towards the shower. The thing looked so innocent just sitting there, the glass pane cracked open ever so slightly to reveal the silver mechanisms inside. They looked so pristine and nice in there, glittering with a shine that proved how recently Kyoko cleaned the faucets and spout. The whole structure appeared so unintimidating; he felt foolish for even being frightened of it.

 “It’s a personal thing, I guess.”

 His wife’s arms crossed her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 Makoto gripped his arm tightly, his nails digging into the skin. He knew better than to grab at himself like that, but confessing to his pain was next to unbearable. Even talking about it threatened to send him spiralling. “Just that I think this is something I need to lay to rest. Not just for me, but for Maizono-san, too. I want her to be able to sleep peacefully…”

 Her expression softened like well-loved leather. “Always thinking of others, Makoto. You really are the kindest person I’ve ever met,” She murmured, reaching over to cup his cheek with her hand, “Still. Are you sure that this is how you can help her? Maizono-san wouldn’t want you to do anything that might cause you to hurt yourself.”

 “If there’s some other way to help her, I don’t know of it.” Makoto mumbled awkwardly, leaning his face into Kyoko’s hand. It was sort of strange feeling her hand on his face; without her gloves her hands seemed so much rougher than he was used to. Not that he minded any. In a way, he almost liked that Kyoko’s hands were like that. It made her touch easy to distinguish from everyone else’s, and made him a lot more comfortable knowing that she was right there at his side. The only situation in which he’d ever want her hands to change was if that was what she wanted. “I think this is the only way I can really go about it.”

 Kyoko nodded thoughtfully, a half-smile playing at her face. “If you’re certain. Still, I ask that you let me know if we need to put an end to it. You know I’ll be swift in putting an end to the exercise.”

 “Of course.”

 With that, the two separated once more, both of them moving to continue to do away with their clothing. It didn’t take them long to strip down to nothingness, feeling the cool autumn air hitting their bare skin. For both of their sakes, Makoto tried to make not too much unnecessary eye contact. Kyoko seemed to care much less about it.  When they were done, Kyoko took his hand, and guided him towards the shower. Sweat coated Makoto’s palms immediately as they made the venture forth to the silver beast; his body suddenly feeling much too cold for his liking. Part of him wanted to run over and snag his clothes, put them all back on, and tell her that he didn’t want to do this after all. It would certainly be a lot easier than confronting his fears. Still, could he really convince himself to give up on his task when he was this close? He should award himself more faith than that, after all. Like trying a new food, there was no sense in giving up before the flavour hit. As frightened as he was, he wanted to at least try to bear it.

 Unfortunately, his desire to soldier through didn’t stop his body from reacting to the stressors. He practically jumped out of his skin the moment Kyoko turned the faucet; he’d always hated the low rumbling the shower made when it roared to life. It had been a while since he was close enough to hear it, but now that he was… he was suddenly reminded of how awful it was.

 “Are you okay, Makoto?” Kyoko asked, turning her head back to look at him. Her face looked so innocent as she blinked at him, her brows knitting themselves together ever so slightly. Her obvious worry made his stomach twist. How could he be so determined to overcome his fear if it concerned the woman he loved so greatly?

 Attempting to swallow around the lump in his throat, Makoto nodded. “Just got a little surprised by the sound, that’s all… We’ve got to wait for it to warm up, right?”

 She bit her lip, taking one long look at his expression. Without even having to use her words or much expression, he could tell she didn’t believe him. “Yes. It should warm up fairly quickly, though. We’ll be able to step in soon.”

 “Good, good…”

 It was not good. Not that he was going to tell Kyoko that.

 Anxiety spun his head like a vinyl record; he fought to keep his belly from churning. God, he just wanted to get this over with. Be a hero, conquer his fears, and then curl up in bed with his wife and snuggle her until his limbs stopped shaking. Every passing second was agonizing. He honestly felt as if he could cry when she told him that the water was finally warm enough.

 “Do you want me to go in first?”

 “It would probably make me feel a bit better if you did… Just like… take me by the hand and guide me in, please.”

 She smiled at him as genuinely as she could manage, her worry still seeping through ever so slightly. “I can do that.”

 He breathed a silent prayer as Kyoko’s hand found his own, slowly guiding him towards the shower. He couldn’t stop himself from squeezing his eyes shut, letting himself be lured into the trap by his lover. The moment the water hit him, he let out a gasp. Desperate to stay grounded, he found himself squeezing Kyoko’s hand for dear life. She took such care to ensure that the shower rain wouldn’t be too hot, yet it scalded his skin as he tried to adjust to the feeling. He almost cried out the moment it collided with him. The sensation could be compared to freshly boiled water being poured down his spine.

 “Just breathe,” she spoke so softly he almost missed it, her hand rubbing against his back to try and comfort him, “It’ll be okay.”

 It’ll be okay, he repeated to himself. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.

 Adrenaline hit him in a crashing wave. It was as if a bubble had burst in his brain, soaking his entire being in paralyzing fear. Every part of his body suddenly seemed full of… something. What it was, he didn’t know. He only knew that he could feel it somewhere within himself, accompanied by a shooting pain somewhere in his chest. If he hadn’t known what the symptoms were like, he would have assumed that he was going to faint. This definitely wasn’t fainting, though. It was… something else entirely.

 All he could see was red. Red streaked on cold grey tile; the liquid having lost its warmth after spillage. A knife plunged into the depths of Sayaka’s belly, diving past her uniform and the protective layer of skin and muscle. How far did it pierce her stomach, one couldn’t help but wonder? How long was she in pain? Did she lay there bleeding out, praying that someone would come and rescue her? There were tear tracks on her face when they found her. She’d cried in pain. She’d sat there writhing in it, bleeding out – five minutes of bleeding out, Kyoko told him – with nobody to soothe her.

 He left her behind to die like that. He’d left her to die like that because he was too stupid to think about what she intended to do. If he’d stopped her, she’d still be alive. If he’d been smarter, or braver, or nicer, everything would have worked out for her. She’d have stood on Kyoko’s side at their wedding, hair curled and adorned in purple flowers. She would be positioned next to Aoi, looking absolutely beautiful in the soft material of her lavender dress. The gown would hug her curves in a way that would surely have made Leon talk, but she still wouldn’t be the most radiant woman in the room. He could picture the smile she’d give from where she was standing, silently wishing him a lifetime of happiness with the love of his life. She’d have been there. She’d have protected him from the harm of the shower’s rain, slicing through his skin like a blistering razor.

 “Makoto!”

 The image persisted behind his eyes, but the sound proved he could make out his own world. Sayaka’s death played on continuous loop like a movie; none of what was happening was real anymore. Water droplets having completed their race were not the same as Sayaka’s blood; there was no reason to see it as such. The grey tile had not been scrubbed white; it was the tile of his own home. The voice calling out to him was not his own frozen in a hellish scream; it was Kyoko’s. Shame seeped into his bones. Go away, he pleaded, I’m begging you to go away.

 Without any choice, his legs gave out, sending him falling to the floor. His knees would surely be bruised the next day.

 Kyoko didn’t kneel down to his level, not at first. Her hand instead went darting for the faucet, twisting it off as soon as she could. Only a twinge of relief washed over him as the pitiful rain dribbled to a stop, leaving him and Kyoko to bask in the new found silence. It made Makoto acutely aware of how sharp his breaths had become, with his body struggling to gather some sort of relief. He squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, how he prayed the darkness would swallow him whole to make this pain stop.

 He barely noticed when Kyoko knelt down on the floor, placing a gentle hand on his back. It wasn’t until her rough hand made contact against his skin… It wasn’t until that moment that he found himself anywhere close to okay. Oh god, he hoped she knew how much that meant. Even with his mind persisting at that image of Sayaka, the contact healed him like an EpiPen.

 “You’re experiencing a flashback, Makoto,” she murmured softly, tracing loops on his back. How could she sound so steady at a time like this? Jealousy at her coolness pricked him. What he wouldn’t give to experience it anywhere but between images of Sayaka, blood leaking from the side of her mouth.

 “Sayaka’s dead,” was all he could utter. No “help me”, no “hold me”, no “I need you to do this for me” … Just an admission that his dear friend was very much dead.

 “She died, but she didn’t die here. It was years ago, Makoto.” The circles she drew between his shoulder blades slowed down. She hoped for him to focus on the sense of touch. “You remember that, don’t you? And you remember that you didn’t have any control over what happened to her. She didn’t blame you for what happened.”

 He didn’t answer. Just kept staring aimlessly at the tile, wishing it would be the way he remembered it. The way it looked when Kyoko had just finished taking a shower. God, he’d have done anything to be able to breathe in the scent of her cherry blossom shampoo, rather than the vague stench of copper.

 “Do you feel my hand on your back, Makoto?”

 He licked his lips, blinking slowly. “I do.”

 “It’s rough, isn’t it?”

 “Very.” He muttered.

 “Just try to focus on that roughness as my finger moves. You can feel me there, can’t you?”

 “Yeah, I can.”

 “Good,” she outstretched her other hand so he could see it, her golden wedding band flickering at him, “Now look at the other. It’s kind of funny-looking, isn’t it?”

 “Like hamburger meat.” He murmured, not thinking about how that might insult her. His mind was too far into its loop to consider it. His body trembled as he tried to ground himself there on the tile; nausea prodding at him to have its way.

 To his surprise, Kyoko laughed. Not a full, hearty laugh like he could usually stir from her – but a laugh nonetheless. “I suppose it does sort of look like that. What I want you to focus on, though, is the colours. How many different colours can you pick out when you look at my hands? Remember, undertones count too.”

 His eyes wandered across her hand, observing it carefully. Naturally, red was the first colour that came to his mind. Red like blood, red like fire, red like a poisonous animal. The red on Kyoko’s hand was an inky layer sandwiched between lighter and darker hues, skirting about midway along her palm, it danced so close to her knuckles. From there, the colours faded into a deeper crimson, then to a brown, until finally they reached a blackened shade at the tips of her fingers. It was only below the streak of red that he could see pink, like apple snail eggs. So close to being warm and rosy, but a sign of damage nevertheless.

 “There’s… red, and brown, and pink… black, crimson…”

 “Crimson? It sounds like you’re getting a little excited with your colour comparisons there. Good for you. Just keep listing the ones that come to mind.”

 “Um… I guess there’s a bit of umber in there… maybe some charcoal?”

 She nodded. “Good. Now, do you know what day it is?”

 Makoto blinked once. Twice. Three times. His breaths still felt much too laborious, but in a way, he felt like things were almost getting clearer. Like he’d been freed from suffocation in ash. “It’s… the tenth of September, right? Autumn?”

 The circles continued as she cracked a small smile. “Good, good. Now can you rub your hands together for me? I want to get you a towel to dry off with. It will keep you warm while I do.”

 Once again, he didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her, just nodded and started rubbing his hands together for friction. He couldn’t bring his eyes to follow her as she pushed herself to her feet and strode out of the shower, tugging his fluffy white towel off the rack. Focus rested on the heat generating between his hands, he almost didn’t notice when she returned and draped it over his shoulders. His movement screeched to a halt the moment it connected with his body; god was it a soft towel. Taking hold of both corners, he pulled it over himself as much as he could manage. They definitely needed to keep buying whatever fabric softener they were currently using.

 Kyoko slowly lowered herself to sit at his side once more, returning her hand to the same position it had been on his back. It was true to say that he could no longer enjoy her rough skin against his own, but the pressure of her presence still made him a bit renewed.

 “Are you okay, Makoto?” Though he couldn’t find the energy to meet her face, the concern coated her voice. It wasn’t difficult to picture her lowered brows; her mouth curved into a hesitant grin in hopes of offering solace.

 His shoulders quirked, and he leaned himself into her. By now she must have known how badly he needed her; he figured she wouldn’t mind if he cuddled up. Touch always rejuvenated him when he grew melancholic or distressed. Hers, especially, brought him a comfort unlike any other. “Honestly… no. I’m not.”

 Kyoko scooted closer to him, and pushed his head so that it would rest on his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

 “No,” the answer came much faster than expected, “Not right now, anyway.”

 “That’s fine. I don’t expect you to be okay. We can talk whenever you would like,” she paused for but a moment, carefully scrutinizing his face, “Is there anything I can do?”

 “I don’t think so.”

 He could tell she was frowning now. “That’s a shame.”

 Makoto quirked his shoulders once more. “It’s okay. You’re already doing everything you can, and I appreciate that. All I really need right now is your company.”

 Cautiously turning her head towards his, she pressed a kiss against his head. Her hand rested on the top of it, stroking his hair ever so gently. A miniscule happiness swelled within him at the sensation. He was a lucky man, who had a woman who cared about him so much. “I think I can manage that.”

 Though it was hard, he did everything he could to push a smile. It must have been awfully weak, but he hoped she could appreciate it nonetheless. “Thank you, Kyoko… I love you.”

 “I love you, too. And I’m here for you anytime.”

 “Shower or no shower?” He joked, chuckling half-heartedly.

 “Shower or no shower. I’ll love you, always.”

#naegiri2020 #danganronpa #naegiri #danganronpa 3 #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #makoto x kyoko #naegi x kirigiri #kyouko kirigiri #naegi makoto #kirigiri kyoko

[urdbell18]

Those Moments In Between The Problem with Mary’s Hair

AN: So thanks to this virus I’m out of work for the next too weeks and I’m bored out of my mind. So I got this great idea about creating a mini series to my main fic A Seed Hidden in the Heart. This is the first story but f you guys have anything that you want me to write about just message me! I think this might be fun. 

Zelda loved a lot of things about Mary. She loved how Mary could anticipate her needs before she even needed them. She loved how Mary always had an ear to listen with and if anyone needed help she was willing to lend a hand. Most importantly Zelda loved how Mary was with her family, especially her daughter. Mary was the perfect parent, she was strict yet fair, fun but knew when to be serious, reliable without being overwhelming. Mary took to being a guardian to two extremes, a teen and a small child, almost effortlessly and it was just one of the reasons why Zelda loved her.

Mary had only one flaw however and that was her hair.

Now don’t get Zelda wrong, she loved Mary’s hair. Mary’s hair was soft and full of volume, perfect to tangle your fingers in. It’s just the problem is that ‘volume’ translates to ‘a lot’ and Mary had a LOT of hair. A sort of trail seemed to follow Mary wherever she went as several strands of hair would end up on things, mostly soft surfaces like the pillow cases and the back of the sofa. It wasn’t noticeable at first but over time the build up of loose hair started to become more obvious which triggered something inside Zelda. Zelda wouldn’t call herself a neat freak, she was just the type of person who liked things to be a certain way and that way just happened to be organized. So her reactions when she saw the large collection of hair on the pillow or on the headrest in her car were perfectly normal for her. She bought a large collection of lint rollers and that was that.

Or so she thought.

A month after Mary moved in Zelda noticed that her tub wasn’t draining as it normally would. It wasn’t something that she noticed at first until she came into the bathroom to brush her teeth and the tub would still be filled with water from her daughter’s bath. It gave her pause. She checked the plug and it was fully dislodged so it wasn’t that, so what could it be?

Zelda didn’t think about it again because everything seemed to go back to normal, her tub was draining like it should be until, yet again, it wasn’t. She noticed it first when she was taking her morning shower and found herself in ankle deep water. Curious, and luckily she didn’t break her neck getting out of the tub. The problem got steadily worse until she couldn’t stand it anymore and turned to the only person that she knew who could fix it, Ambrose. Ambrose was their resident handyman, he couldn’t fix big problems like when a tree fell and put a whole in their roof but for small problems he was great. He had an answer for her almost straight away when she came to him, his exact words were, “Again? I just cleared it two weeks ago.”

Two weeks ago? That was the first time that Zelda noticed the tub wasn’t draining properly. It was also, when she checked the calendar, the end of the month. That meant on the first Ambrose completed his monthly chore of maintenance on all of the household plumbing, including the tub in Zelda’s room. So the drain was clogging faster than normal and the only reason why that was that Zelda could think of was because of Mary.

All evidence pointed to Mary. Zelda never had this kind of problem before. Not when she shared the room, and thus the bathroom as well, with Hilda. There’s never been a problem with her and Vida. Mary was the only factor that added up. All that hair had to go somewhere and down her drain wasn’t one of them. So she bought a drain trap to catch it all and it was fine until… this

The drain trap needed to come out. It did its job and that was the underlying problem. A clump of hair and other things that Zelda didn’t even want to think about circled the trap. She was NOT going to touch it. She called out to Mary who came into the bathroom a bit confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need you to remove that.” Zelda pointed at the drain trap but didn’t look directly at it in fear of being sick. Mary looked over the edge of the tub and grimaced.

“And what exactly is that?”

“That my dear is a week worth of your hair trying to clog up my drains yet again.”

“Last time I checked I’m not the only one with hair. How do you know this is all my doing?”

“Because I never had to deal with this before until you.”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean!?” Zelda took a deep breath. This was escalating out of proportion.

“I don’t want to fight with you but we can’t have the drain clogging up every other week. Could you please just clear the drain.”

“Fine.”

A compromise was reached after that. Zelda would set the trap while Mary would clear it as well as picking up any stray hair that she could. And everything worked out just fine.

_____________________

Part 2

There were some advantages to living in Greendale. One of them that Mary cared about the most was the humidity or lack thereof. There was little to no humidity in Greendale and thus her hair wouldn’t get staticy or dry like it did whenever she was sent to camp in Arizona. That was hell on earth.

However, Greendale did come with one disadvantage and that was rain. It rained a LOT in Greendale. Their yearly rainfall rivaled that of Seattle and Forks and they were one of the rainiest towns on the east coast. All that rain led to one thing that Mary was starting to believe was even worse than the humidity. Frizz.

When spring hit Greendale there were two things that Mary could count on, her allergies and frizz. Both things were manageable. She had her allergy medication for outside, she didn’t really need it for inside anymore thanks to Zelda’s neat freak nature. Zelda says she’s not a neat freak but she totally is and Mary loves her for it. She still had some off days, mostly it would be her eyes would be too dried out for her to put in her contacts. The frizz however, she hadn’t quite mastered. She tried everything, and she means everything, to try and tame it with little to no results. After years of dealing with the same thing she just accepted it as something that happened and went with it, unless something happened.

Like getting a hairbrush stuck in her hair.

The thing about her hair was that it was always kind of hard to brush. Unless she used a smoothing conditioner her hair would become coarse and make the act of brushing it twice as hard. So meeting some resistance wasn’t that unheard. None of that didn’t matter when frizz was involved and so it wasn’t completely unheard of if her brush got stuck in her hair but this was completely different. Her brush wasn’t just stuck it was stuck. Any other time she could get her hairbrush out of her hair but, nope. Her tugging was only doing one thing and that was causing her pain. As loath as she might want to admit it she needed help. Luckily the first person she came across was Hilda.

“Hilda.” The plump blonde woman jumped a bit, she probably wasn’t expecting anyone to still be upstairs.

“Oh, good morning Mary. Thought you would be downstairs with the others.”

“I’ve had a bit of a set back that has kept me and I’m in need of your assistance.”

“What’s wrong?” Instead of trying to explain it Mary turned around so that Hilda could get a clear view of the blue backing of her hairbrush. “Oh my! How’d this happen?”

“Would you like me to blame genetics or the weather?” She heard Hilda chuckle behind her and a warm hand landed on her shoulder.

“Brace yourself love, this is going to hurt.” Mary took a deep breath and placed a hand on the railing. Without further hesitation Hilda started to yank. She was right, it hurt!

Nether noticed Vida coming up on the first landing nor her eyes wide in horror until…

“Mommy!”

At the same time downstairs:

Zelda closed her newspaper, only one article interested her today and now that her reading was done she folded the newspaper and placed it next to her empty plate. She checked her watch and her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Mary and her sister should be downstairs by now and yet when she did a head count they were missing. Ambrose was here eating a bowl while stretched out on the bench. Sabrina was putting some final touches on a school assignment. And Vida was next to her downing the last remainders of her milk. Mary’s absence didn’t go unnoticed by her either.

“Where’s Momma?”

“I don’t know, baby why don’t you go upstairs and check up on her.”

“Okay!” With that Vida jumped down from her seat and rounded the corner out of sight. Zelda checked her watch again and sighed. At this rate Mary wouldn’t be able to sit down for breakfast. This wasn’t the first time it has happened so Zelda got up and filled a travel mug with coffee and popped some toast in the toaster. Mary could eat in the car, something that she never allowed, but Mary needed to eat something and her threat of vacuuming her entire car if she saw even a single crumb was enough for Mary to keep things neat.

“Mommy!” Zelda’s blood ran cold and she rushed out of the kitchen to where her daughter's voice was coming from. Behind her she heard Ambrose and Sabrina scrambling to catch up with her.

“Vida what’s wrong!?”

“Aunt Hilda’s hurting Momma!” Zelda opened her mouth to say something else but froze. At the top of the stairs was her sister and her girlfriend. Something was poking out the back of Mary’s head and she had an ironclad grip on the banister. Vida looked at her with big eyes filled with unshed tears. Zelda could only imagine what all of this looked like to a four year old.

“What is going on here?”

“I was just trying to help with…” Hilda’s sentence trailed off and she waved a hand to the back of Mary’s head. Mary just gave a sheepish sort of smile and a light blush crept up on her cheeks.

“Hilda.” Zelda didn’t need to say anything else as she went up one side of the staircase. Hilda went down the other, ushering Sabrina, Ambrose, and Vida to the main floor. Vida looked up at her but Zelda just nodded and gave her a soft smile. She went with Hilda without a whimper. When Zelda reached Mary that blush seemed to have gotten darker and spread higher on Mary’s sharp cheekbones. “Let me see.” Mary turned to show Zelda the hairbrush that was half embedded in her hair. With gentle fingers Zelda observed the damage. “Come with me.” Zelda turned back to her bedroom, Mary followed her. She pointed to her vanity and, after a slight hesitation, Mary sat down. All Mary could see in the mirror was Zelda’s torso and the flexing of her shoulders as her arms moved. Next thing Mary knew the brush that was causing a tugging pain in the back of her head was being held out to her with a smug look on Zelda’s face.

“Frizz?” Mary gave her a side nod and took back the brush. There was a huge clump of hair in the bristles. Mary hates to think about the damage to her hair. “All you had to do was say something.” Mary turned to look at Zelda surprised.

“Really?”

“It’s not as bad as it was when I lived in London but I’d get the occasional flare up now and again. We just need to find the right combination for you but for now...” Zelda went into the bathroom then came out with a tube in her hand. “Try this.” She squeezed some cream into her hand and then ran her fingers through Mary’s hair. It felt good, really good, and Mary gave off a low moan, it almost sounded like a purr. “That’s better wouldn’t you say?” Mary brought a hand to her hair, it felt almost back to normal, it was still a little rough but a whole lot better than it was before.

“Thank you.” Mary got up and gave Zelda a quick peck on her lips. Zelda hummed and kissed Mary back.

“There’s toast and coffee waiting for you downstairs, We need to get going.” Mary looked at the alarm clock and cursed under her breath. She quickly grabbed her shoes and scrambled to keep up with Zelda. Hilda was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, she handed Mary a travel mug and her toast. She and Vida sent them off with a hug and a wave goodbye as she, Zelda and Sabrina went off for another exciting day of Baxter high.

After that Zelda found the perfect combination to contain her frizz. Some cream, a little hairspray and she was good as golden. No more dryness. No more stuck hair brushes or cries for help. 

Thank god.

#Zelda Spellman #Madam Satan #madam spellman

[water-hates-learning]

nobody knew (and nobody knows)

Crossover with The Magnus Archives podcast because this idea has been bothering me for a while now so I finally just wrote it. Whatever. Not my best work.

Mild spoilers for the end of S1 of The Magnus Archives. Takes place after episodes 39/40 of the podcast. Also contains headcanons, lots of swearing, and the implication that the main EW boys don’t follow the standard laws of time and space. Post The End EW time.

In other words, this is bullshit.

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

"Case number zero-one-one—"

“Six-six-six.”

“Mr. Ritehill, please.”

“Whatever.”

“Statement of Thomas Ritehill, regarding an…unusual trip taken by himself and his companions in January 2007. Statement—” 

“And the shit in 2014.”

“[sigh] Regarding the trip in January 2007 as well as the disturbances on 31st December, 2014. Statement taken direct from subject, 14th November 2016. Interview conducted by Johnathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Before you begin—why are you just now giving a statement?”

“’Cause a bunch of shit went down and somebody needs to hear about it. M’friends don’t wanna talk about it. And if I have to sit on this bullshit by myself anymore I’ll explode.”

“Right. Erm. Statement begins.”

“…now?”

“Yes, now.”

“[mumbling]…can’ believe you’re using a damn tape recorder…what year is this…[sounds of container being unscrewed]”

“Mr. Ritehill—”

“Call me Tom, god. And let a man have his damn vodka. Holy shitake on a sled, lemme just. Fuck. Okay. So, back in 2007, the four of us were bored, right, and Tord—this is when that commie fuck still lived with us—Tord—”

“Full names, please.”

“Christ, okay. Tord Lesion said we should go to Hell. So we did. Just the tourist route, ya know, got to see our personal hells and shit. Won’t bore you with the details. So yeah, me, Tord Lesion, Edd Golding, and Matt Harvice took an elevator to Hell, had a good time, got some souvenirs, and came back. Whatever.

’Cept when we were leaving the…the devil holding the door for the exit said they’d see me in six months. And it was like, haha, mate, yeah, sure, whatever, funny joke. I didn’t mention it to the guys and I didn’t think about it again. Couple months later, Edd’s digging a hole in the back garden and comes up with this door all covered in symbols ‘n stuff. And we’re all a buncha dumbasses so we go down it. Deal with some Indiana Jones traps, beat off a killer mummy, find a mysterious treasure box—you know the drill. So Tord opens the box and then…I dunno. Everything went dark.

If you ask any of the other three, they’d probably just tell you that I was unconscious. They said there was nothin’ in the treasure chest but I’m pretty sure the jackasses kept it for themselves and didn’t tell me. Probably for the best; I just woulda spent it on alcohol.

Anyway, from my perspective, we fell down a hole. When Tord opened the box, the floor dropped out from underneath us and we fell into darkness. I couldn’t see or hear the others, I was just falling in darkness. Or maybe floating. I dunno. Kinda…felt like forever and no time at all. I know that doesn’t make sense but you lot probably hear shit like that all the time. So I’m floating there and it’s dark, pitch black, but I can still see my hands in front of my face, like there’s a light shining only on me but there isn’t a light. Kinda like how someone looks when they stand in front of a black backdrop; the background’s all dark but they’re, like, normally lit or whatever.

And I wasn’t really scared ‘cause it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me. I was just kind of waiting for something to happen. Because something always happens.

Didn’t have to wait long.

I felt something slide its hands around my neck from behind, felt its fingers on my windpipe, its thumbs at the base of my skull. I kind of expected it to be cold, like icy or something. But they were hot, like someone with a fever, uncomfortable. Made my skin prickle. It said…something. Couldn’t tell you what it was now, only have the vaguest sensation of—of a voice, talking to me, right in my ear, hot breath on my skin. I kept thinking I could see it moving out of the corner of my eye but if I tried to turn my head to look, it would start squeezing my neck until it had cut off my air supply.

Sometimes I think I can remember that it had promised me things. Sometimes I think it might have said something about a fight or a war or something. A lot of the time I pretend the whole thing was because I was blackout drunk. But I know that last bit’s not true because I hadn’t been drinking that night. And I wasn’t too worried because, I mean, weird stuff happens to the four of us all the time, stuff that no one even remembers. We’ve been through…three? Zombie apocalypses now? Hell, Matt’s led one of them. All of us have died and come back to life. And—and the thing is, right, the thing is that no one else remembers it. I’m pretty sure there’s stuff that’s happened that we don’t even remember. Tord said somethin’ once about crossing time lines or some shit but I dunno about any of the string theory, philosophical bullshit.

All I know for sure is, that night, in the black that wasn’t dark, with this thing’s hands around my neck, a demon crawled inside me.

A demon crawled inside me and it lives there and it’s so. Fuckin’ angry. Or maybe I’m angry. I don’t know for sure anymore, it’s been too long.

But—[container unscrews, long pause]—mm, anyway. The thing with its hands on my throat somehow—it somehow pries my mouth open. Gets its fingers between my teeth and wrenches my jaw apart so hard it aches. And then there’s this…this purple thing. It looks darker than the black but it’s purple and maybe that’s just because it’s beyond human comprehension or some shit. Hell if I know. It got closer and closer and for the first time in there I was scared. I was fucking scared and I thought—I don’t know what I thought, all I remember for sure is this—this blinding panic. This kind of raw, mind-numbing terror that made my heart beat so hard it hurt and it was hard to breathe and all I could hear was this rushing sound in my ears as this—this cloudy purple thing got closer and closer. I tried to get away but I couldn’t move, I could only sit there and watch.

And it—it…it just…”

“Mr. Ri—sorry. Tom. Do you need a break? We can take a moment to—”

“No. If I don’t…if I don’t say it now—if I leave this room—I’m not comin’ back. And I gotta get this out. [a deep breath, let out slowly] Just…remembering it now…it still scares the shit outta me.

So this cloud thing…it…crawls inside my mouth. And I can feel it. It tastes like…like how ash smells? Or maybe like someone filled my mouth with ash. And embers. Because it was hot and it didn’t exactly burn, it was just—like that moment when you drink some coffee and it’s still hot but not so hot you burn your tongue but still hot enough you gotta sip it. You know what I mean?

And I can feel it s-sort of wr-wriggling…wriggling and squirming to get inside me and I’m t-trying to push it out with my tongue or—or close my mouth or something. Anything to keep this thing out. B-but it keeps flopping around and pushing itself inside my and I’m—I’m ch-choking on it, gagging, and I think I was crying and trying to scream and this thing—[gagging sound]”

“Tom—”

“N-no, no, stop, shut up, let me just—finish. Okay? Don’t! Don’t fuckin’ touch me! I’m fine! Just let me give my damn statement and get out of this place. It smells like death in here.”

“I…I apologize. Please continue.”

“It went down my throat. I could feel it sliding down my throat, feel it under the fingers of that thing that still held my mouth open. It was lighter than candyfloss but I felt it like I’d swallowed a chunk of bread without chewing it enough. It was gross and it was horrible and it was terrifying and I don’t think I’d wish it on anyone. Even that bastard Tord.

And then it was just…done. The hands were gone, the cloud thing was gone, and I was laying on the couch in our sitting room, gasping at the ceiling. Edd was the only one in there, watching the telly. Said he was too tired to carry to my room and then laughed at me for passing out. Maybe I shoulda said something then, should have told him what had just happened, what I’d seen. But I didn’t. Instead I ran to the bathroom and threw up. And it just never came up again, never had a reason to say anything. I kept getting distracted by things.

I didn’t know what had happened until the end of December, in 2014.

You remember that year? It was really wet. Kept raining but we hardly got any snow. Freezing cold but just…no snow, not really, nothing that really stuck.

Anyway, Edd had been on the roof fixing the satellite dish during a rainstorm. He ended up having another dick measuring contest with one of our neighbors, Eduardo. Um, I dunno his last name, actually. Var…something. Var…there was an “L” in there somewhere. Sorry. Can’t remember. Eduardo had this, like, “alien” satellite or something and I guess it was radioactive or whatever. Anyway, he and Edd both ended up with superpowers for 24 hours and I can see by the look on your face that you think I’m takin’ the piss and I swear to fuck I am not. You can look up the incident report yourself, probably. But I bet the coppers only wrote something about property damage due to gang violence or some bullshit. Might be pictures our there somewhere but I dunno how to find them. I’m afraid I’d see myself if I did.

So Eduardo punched me, like, three blocks. Should have killed me. Instead it just…it felt like something clicked into place. And I remembered that demon that had shoved its way down my throat. It was like it had been waiting for this.

It hurt, that first time.

When your body’s stretching and your muscles are tearing and your skin is warping and your bones are snapping and cracking and breaking into new shapes. It hurts like a son of a bitch. I wanted to die. But mostly I was just angry. I was so fucking angry.

Don’t remember much while I was…changed. Flashes of stuff; tearing through building, smashing cars, attacking Eduardo and Edd. I think I might have ate someone. I try not to think about it.

Eduardo hit me with something, some kind of energy beam, I dunno. Sent me flying and ripped that smoke right out of me. I remember it flying away, remember the feeling of it ripping out of my throat and tearing off into the night.

But whatever it had done was kind of…stuck to me, I guess. I can still turn into a monster. Almost did when Tord showed his damn commie face again and blew our house up. You can look that up too. 27 Durden Lane. Nothing but a crater now.

[a pause, sounds of container unscrewing, another pause, the thud of a fist hitting the table]

And the only fuckin’ reason I’m telling you people this is because—fuck it, you probably already think I’m insane—there’s some kind of big…bad thing on the way. Fuck if I know. Just. I just…feel it. Can smell it. Or something. Taste it like some dry fuckin’ rum in the back of my mouth. Maybe the world’s ending for real this time. Maybe everyone will actually remember it. I don’t know.

But this place fucking stinks like a bunch of rotten bodies, like that musty attic stench with dead bugs everywhere. And you don’t believe a damn word I’m saying because you think I’m just a drunk. Ha. I can’t even get drunk anymore.

Whatever. Believe what you want. We went to Hell and I’ve got demon powers. The end.”

“…right. Um. Is the whole…demon powers the reason why your eyes are like…that?”

“What? No. This is just ‘cause my mum’s a bowling ball. They’re hollow. See?”

“O-oh my god. State—statement ends.”

[click]

“I will admit I am…extremely skeptical of Mister—of Tom’s statement. It sound positively ludicrous, the delusions of a schizophrenic at their worst, I’d even hazard. I’d disregard his statement entirely if not for the visceral reactions he showed to some of his own words—though that only proves that he believes they’re true.

But his eyes…Christ, I’ve never seen anything like that. He could obviously see but they were just. Black pits in his head. Gone. He stuck his fingers in them. Not the worst thing I’ve seen, all things considered, but one of the most…disturbing? Uncomfortable, may be the better word.

Tim was able to find a police report on the incident at 27 Durden Lane on 13th March, 2016. It was written off as an accident but with some additional digging he managed to find…more. The rubble and blast patterns look more like they were caused by external explosions. Tim says it looks like a bomb went off. Or several bombs. The neighbor’s house—the residence of one Eduardo Varela, Markus Barnes, and Jonathan Rees—also sustained serious damage. Jonathan Rees reportedly died at the scene due to serious injury.

Martin managed to dig up a few photos from the incident in 2014. Most of them aren’t the best quality and it’s hard to tell what’s happening except for bright flashes of green. But one very clearly depicts a monstrous shape, as big as a building it looks like, with horns on its head. It’s hard to tell in the photograph but it appears to be purple. There was a reported explosion in a local park around the date Tom Ritehill claims he transformed into a monster, and there is a crater there from the police report. But that’s all the evidence we can find to support his…stories.

We tried to get into contact with Eddward Golding and Matthew Harvice but neither of them were very forthcoming. Edd Golding declined to comment altogether and Matt Harvice was…he was difficult to talk to. It was as if he kept losing his train of thought. I doubt he would make for a reliable source.

There was also an attempt to contact the individual Tord Lesion but none of the information we were able to find was up to date. The only thing Tim managed to scrounge up was an old wanted poster,  several months out of date, with Tord Lesion’s image on it. He appears to be in a military style uniform with a shotgun. If Tom Ritehill’s claims that Tord is starting a personal army are to be believed, then I suppose this would be a reason to trust his word. Maybe.

[sigh] I suppose we could investigate these claims more in the future. Though I am very much inclined to ignore them.

End recording.”

[click]

“Supplemental.

It just occurred to me that it’s been very nearly four months since the incident with Jane Prentiss. This place has been scrubbed within an inch of its life, nearly burned with chemicals, steamed so badly that it made my eyes water with the lingering chemical smell when I finally came back from leave. It’s been so thoroughly cleaned that a blind dog trying to sniff his way out would have run into the walls.

And yet…and yet Thomas claimed he could…he could smell the death. He said…dead bugs. Specifically dead bugs. And decay. And I can’t…stop thinking about those tunnels…and what could still be down there.

…end supplemental.”

[end of tape]

#8ball fics #i don't feel very confident about this writing to the point where i almost didn't post this

[cheshiresense]

Can you continue the arrange marriage AU? Like, the aftermath and everyone view on it? Please? Thank you.

Eh same deal as the other one, I only posted this here after I ran out of steam on discord so I don’t really have anything to add. I guess morning at the Giglio Nero compound brings fresh panic when the servants report that Yuni wasn’t in her room, and three hours of searching the grounds came up empty. Even Aria grows increasingly agitated, and her mother’s grave “If she has truly run away from her duty, your sister has doomed us all.” doesn’t help. They don’t even know how Yuni escaped. They’ve suspected her to be a flight risk since she was fourteen; the compound is sealed with Luce’s own Sky Flames, which would flare an alarm and contain Yuni if she tried to flee, but the barrier is still intact, and there’s no sign of anyone having tried to force their way through, let alone succeed.

Luce locks down Yuni’s disappearance; nobody is to speak of it, it cannot leak back to the Vongola, at least not until they’ve ascertained that they can’t retrieve her within the next few days before Yuni is supposed to visit the Vongola mansion again. But their search is in vain; Aria’s Sight fails her, even Luce’s Sight hits a dead end, and that’s never happened before. She’s the strongest Giglio Nero Seer since Sepira, and yet somehow Yuni evades her notice. It’s the first time Aria’s ever seen her mother look… angry. It’s a cold, quiet sort of wrath, and it makes her shudder just catching a glimpse of it. She doesn’t know what Yuni is thinking, betraying them like this, but she doesn’t envy her when Luce catches up to her. Because of course Luce would; nobody can hide from her long. It’s how she gathered her generation’s Arcobaleno; the Cloud wasn’t able to break away, and even the hitman Reborn was tamed in the end. Yuni’s never gone against a Sky as powerful as their mother before. She won’t be able to run forever.

But first they have to break the news to Vongola. They certainly don’t tell Timoteo that it’s already been three days since they discovered Yuni gone from her bed. Luce masterfully frames it in a way that makes it seem as if Yuni might’ve been kidnapped, and even if she wasn’t, surely it was her immaturity and free spirit that got the better of her. She has no friends her own age, and girls her age are often flighty and foolish. Even Aria winces at the unimpressed look Timoteo levels at them, even if he doesn’t outright call them on it. All he does is nod and offer his own people to join the hunt, they’ll drag her back home if they have to, and really, Aria thinks her sister deserves a bit of rough handling. A Giglio Nero daughter has never caused so much trouble; she doesn’t understand why Yuni has to be so difficult.

Of Timoteo’s sons, it’s Massimo who looks the most irate. He must’ve really been looking forward to marrying Yuni, hoping to be chosen. Aria’s seen how much attention the second son often pays her sister; why Yuni would turn her nose up at such fortune is beyond her.

Enrico doesn’t seem to care beyond an amused twist of his lips and bored agreement to help with the search, but Aria concedes that someone a few years older than even Aria herself would’ve found Yuni’s fanciful whims tiresome.

And Federico is a hard read, even for Aria, he doesn’t seem particularly upset either but at least he agrees to help too and doesn’t seem angry at Yuni’s slight.

Nobody bothers calling the Varia and asking Xanxus; no matter how irritated some are, nobody wants Yuni back in pieces.

So, search parties are sent out. They keep it quiet because it wouldn’t do for other famiglie to find out that a future Vongola bride has done a runner.

Eventually, someone asks if maybe Tsunayoshi kidnapped Yuni, or if Yuni’s eloped with Tsunayoshi. There’s some laughter at the first because everybody knows Tsunayoshi doesn’t have very strong Flames, barely even average, to have been passed over as the next CEDEF leader by his own father for some Rain nobody. But among the upper echelon of Vongola, there’s a lot of side-eyes and grim looks, especially between Timoteo and Iemitsu.

It’s possible that Yuni ran off to join Tsunayoshi, misguided by a silly girl thinking herself in love. So they reach out to the Gesso, and because if you look up the word ‘overkill’ in the dictionary, ‘Vongola’ would be included as a synonym, instead of reaching out diplomatically, they send in a few Mist assassins to sneak onto Gesso grounds and grab Yuni if she’s there. They even get two birds with one stone this way - if Gesso is caught red-handed harbouring a Vongola ally “against her will”, they could wring a few more inventions and maybe even a subordinate famiglia to Vongola.

The result - the Mists don’t come back. They just disappear. Nobody knows what’s happened to them, and spies report that Gesso’s going about business as usual.

Vongola sends in another few assassins, because those secure in their power and superiority are always the slowest to learn. They even post spies just off the Gesso property who report back that the assassins managed to get inside.

But again, they never come back out, and even Vongola feels a little uneasy now, especially when Luce still can’t See anything definite for them.

They send spies in one more time, this time just to report back the situation because they don’t need Sight to know there’s something very weird going on with the Gesso.

Not twenty-four hours later, the Pacifier around Luce’s neck flares to life before literally ripping itself away. She’s too slow to grab it, and Aria doesn’t think she would’ve been able to keep a hold of it anyway, and before anyone else can react, it disappears in a flash of Sky Flames.

Simultaneously, the Vongola Sky Ring wrenches itself off Timoteo’s finger and likewise disappears, leaving both bosses stunned and then alarmed.

Someone from the Vongola gates rushes in with a box with a bow tied around it. They don’t know who delivered it; it was left on the ground with nobody around.

They open it only after they make sure there aren’t any traps.

It probably shouldn’t be such a surprise when they find the pieces of their assassins stuffed inside, with only a single note taped on top, half-soaked in drying blood:

They say Helen launched a thousand ships. Let’s see how many Vongola can muster. The Gesso has no need for wooden horses :)

The smiley face was just adding insult to injury.

It’s as good as a declaration of war, and of course Vongola doesn’t fail to rise to the challenge. The box is a taunt, a dare, an insult, and even without Yuni in the equation, their pride won’t stand for it.

And… idk where the fuck i was going with this, omg i wasnt even going to write this much. Just. THERE IS WAR. Prob guerrilla warfare or sth at first before escalating.

#msg #thanzintay #headcanon #khr #myscrap #wedding crashers and runaway brides verse #also holy god i trashed the giglio nero in this

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 42 - The Final Straw

Read on AO3

CW: execution scene, rape mention

Sixteenth day of Harvestmere, 9:32 Dragon

Rosslyn’s breath fogged in the crisp morning air. Her boots tapped dull on the boards of the scaffold where she stood wrapped in furs and plate at full parade shine and waited for the criminals, Baudrillard’s men, to stop their twitching as they dangled from their ropes. The sky arced above in a wash of unblemished blue, mirrored by the frost still hiding in the hollows, the clean scent of rain on wet leaves marred by the smoke still rising from the battle pyres. Within the ring of crumbled stone that was the only remaining evidence of South Reach’s lower bailey, grim satisfaction settled over the gathered crowd as they watched the execution. The faces of the four men gasped purple, their tongues bulged out of their mouths and their eyes bled scarlet where the capillaries had burst, and all the while Rosslyn stood straight-backed and hard as the frozen earth.  

“Look well,” the Falcon of Highever called out over the final silence as the chevaliers were cut down. “The law binds us all. No one, king nor commoner, is above it. No one may break it without consequence.”

The mob sighed its appeasement as the butcher’s boys hauled the bodies into a low cart pulled by a mule, the sons of noblemen given the humiliation of commoners’ deaths. They would be taken without ceremony, not to a pyre for a customary funeral, but to the upland marshes, where the meat would be cleaved and cast into the brackish water as food for the leeches, unmarked, out of sight of the Maker. After the days of horror the townsfolk here had witnessed, having endured Caladrius and his army of undead, such swift retribution could be the only answer for the crime Baudrillard’s men had committed. Rage had coiled around Rosslyn’s bones when the server’s mother had burst into her makeshift office, tears seething upon her cheeks, and demanded redress for her daughter’s condition, for the ambush of the four drunkards who thought they were owed for their part in the battle with the magister. Three days it had taken for the blow of justice to be dealt, three days of harrowing evidence and Baudrillard’s bluster and the knowledge that without her own complacency in the settling dust the whole sordid tragedy might have been avoided in the first place, but even as the cart finally rumbled away, revulsion clawed at her.

Even hours later, with the threat of revolt eased at least for the present and the remaining chevaliers under guard, she stalked through the ruins towards the chantry they had co-opted as temporary headquarters, snapping at the air like a Blight-wolf. Cailan had arrived with a small contingent as the autumn light faded, responding to Baudrillard’s complaint against her, and now he summoned her with all the grace of a mere servant, barely off his horse before he started on his displeasure.

Her eyes stared straight ahead as the royal guards ushered her through the door of the revered mother’s office. The king bent over a scatter of papers on the desk, and as she got closer she recognised the documents as copies of her own reports.

“Your Majesty, I trust you had a safe journey?”

He regarded her for a long moment. “I did, thank you.”

“May I ask why you wanted to see me?” She folded her arms behind her back, so he wouldn’t see her fingernails digging into her wrist.

“You know damn well why,” he snapped, before the brief flare of his anger dimmed to a wearied sigh and he bent over the desk again. “Of everyone in my acquaintance, you are the last person I would have thought would do something so rash.”

Wind beat against the chantry roof, creaking through the timbers as Rosslyn struggled to master herself, but her patience had worn too thin. “Should I have remained silent?” she asked through gritted teeth. “Painted over what happened and pretended there was no crime at all? Do you know what they did to her? Forgive me, Your Majesty, but if you think I would have just stood by in this, you don’t know me at all.”

“The implications of this –”

Her hand tightened on Talon’s hilt. “Our duty is to uphold the law and protect the people who hold us so high – that’s why we’re fighting this war, isn’t it? What sort of hypocrite would I be if I had let those men go only to march into Highever and perjure Howe for exactly the same crimes?”

Cailan glanced sharply at her tone, at the angry gesture of her arm. She let it drop to her side, fist clenched, and swallowed back her anger. “Waiting would have given us a riot, and after everything that’s happened, it would have destroyed whatever victory we gained. I had the evidence and I acted.”

“And in the process, you’ve complicated the situation,” the king retorted. “Baudrillard’s men may be mercenaries, but their families have sway over the Orlesian court, and if they choose they could take this to Celene.”

“Who should remind them they have no cause to complain. The crime was committed on our sovereign soil, under contract to defend it and do no harm.” From anyone else, the words might be naïve, but Rosslyn had grown up with the iron will of the Seawolf as an example, and the delicate, spinning dance of the Game as an adversary. “If I had let them go, it would have shown a weakness to be exploited by our enemies, at just a time when we need to show strength. We cannot afford to be divided over this – you cannot become the object of contempt Loghain paints you. after all the stories coming out of Denerim, you need to be better than him.”

“I know,” came the tired reply. He dragged a hand down the side of his face, his gaze blank in search of the precise words for his confession. “I had hoped a generation of peace and a promise of friendship would forge a new path between Orlais and Ferelden, but it seems the wounds between us are still too recent.”

“The wounds they caused.”  

Cailan sighed. She yielded nothing, but frowned as he turned to pace in the tight confines of the room, noting the slump of his shoulders and the grim lines pulling at the edges of his mouth. Over the past months he had grown into his role as king, taking confidence and leading with a steadiness he had never shown in peacetime, before he knew the cost of war and when all he had to occupy his time were the petty squabbles of the kingdom. The new experience had aged him, as had the business with Anora, but with that had come wisdom enough to temper the blind optimism she had known from him all her life. She couldn’t say that she missed it, but a niggle of regret itched at the back of her neck all the same.

“Whether or not Celene would take advantage of this war is not for me to say,” she tried in a gentler tone. “But some would, and Baudrillard has a duchy to regain – what better way than to strike at Ferelden’s heart? Now that the worst is over, and the Bannorn is under our control, any benefit we would gain by keeping his company is outweighed by the danger he poses. You know this.”

The wind rippled across the chantry roof again, strong enough that a draught found its way inside and guttered the candle on the table. Cailan shot her a wry grin and reached underneath a pile of papers for an envelope sealed with the War Dogs in scarlet wax. “The orders are already written.”  

He held the papers out to her, and she had to purse her lips as she took them to keep from asking just how long they had been written, whether they were a cause or an effect of what had happened since South Reach’s fall. The paper and the seal matched half a dozen others she had received since that first at Aeylesbide, the one that had told her to march south away from home. She fiddled with the edge of it, folded the corner back to dull the point, and finally broke the wax to read.

“I’m to lead the company,” she said, surprised.

“I will not throw away what both our fathers worked so hard to achieve. Baudrillard and his men will be escorted to the border tomorrow with the pay they are owed, and that... that will be the end of this folly.”  

Uneasy with seeing the king so defeated, Rosslyn edged around the desk and laid a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. “Not everyone is as forward-thinking as you.”

“And where I am not, you would doubtless set me right,” he chuckled, turning so they were barely a foot apart, her hand smoothly trapped in both of his. “What would I do without you, my dear?”

Close to, he bore painful resemblance to his half-brother. His jaw, his nose, and even something in the shape of his eyes reminded her of Alistair, though the shade of the irises was so different. The familiarity repulsed her, cut into her chest like a fine wire tightening with every breath she took, and she pulled her fingers from Cailan’s before he could lay a courtly kiss across her knuckles.

“It’s too late to wake my officers now,” she told him as she turned away. “I’ll alert them first thing in the morning, and we should be away before noon. And... if I could take one of the mages?”

“A sensible precaution.” He nodded, resolute. “Harst will inform the knight-captain. Good night, Your Ladyship.”

The path back to her room cut through the cloister. She tucked the orders into a pocket, nodding to the lay sister tending the eternal fire, and slipped through the side door into the chantry garden. At such a late hour, not even guards stood watch over the moon-dusted shrubs, the drooping, dying flowers already sparkling with a thin rime of ice. The lamps were almost entirely extinguished, all but one in the far corner of the cloister that led to the dormitories.

Rosslyn slowed. Even from a distance, Baudrillard’s silhouette was unmistakable, the subtle hunch of his shoulders betraying a furtiveness that rose hairs on the back of her neck. He froze when he heard her footsteps, and at his side the smaller, crowlike profile of Mother Berit turned and disappeared into the shadows of the cloister. A low, angry warning buzzed in Rosslyn’s skull as she watched the older woman leave. The revered mother had arrived with Cailan as part of his retinue, claiming a need to minister the souls of South Reach’s survivors, but that was no reason for her to be meeting with a mercenary commander so late at night. Before she could contemplate the problem further, however, she caught Baudrillard watching her. She resisted the instinct to wrap her fingers around Talon’s hilt and kept walking.

“Of course it is you,” he sneered in his fine accent as she drew level with him. He stalked in front of her, forcing her to look at him. “You have come to gloat? Is it not enough you mete out petty revenges as it suits you, but you also must have us thrown away in disgrace? After all we have done for you.”

She shifted so that her weight leaned casually on one leg, and gazed up at him with the placid expression her mother had taught her for dealing with the most arrogant of vassals. “All you have done?” she repeated. “The king paid your company rather generously to fight and protect the Fereldan people. Your men broke their contract in the most barbaric way possible, which means the only thing that should surprise you is that you, as their superior officer, did not share a place on the scaffold next to them.”

“You killed four men on the word of a peasant girl crying for attention.”

Only the greatest self-control kept her hand still by her side. Her eyes remained steady on the gleaming mask, too cold to be goaded, hating its featureless planes, the ridiculous moustache embossed into the metal, the dark eyes behind it watching as if it presumed her not the falcon but the mouse. The smile she gave him felt more like a snarl across her teeth. “His Majesty believes, given the tenuous nature of the current trust between your force and mine, you would be safer were you to return to your homeland, to forestall any further unpleasantness. I suggest you get some rest, monsieur. We will be leaving early in the morning.”

“Clever little bird.” He stepped into her path as she tried to shove past him. “I know this is your doing. Dress it up as you like, but your arrogance matches that of your parents, and their end will be yours before this is over.”

“Have a care how you address me, Baudrillard. Your safety is in my hands, after all.”

“Your hands?” He laughed, his breath curdled with the odour of stale liquorice as it puffed across her face. “Without your army behind you you’re just another Fereldan bitch who does not know her place.” He loomed closer, arm stretching to the cloister wall, trying to trap her there as a rancid grin spread beneath the mask. “Peut-être, que je vais trouver si tu aimerais sauter comme ça.”

Disbelief stalled her only for a moment before her mother’s training took over. She drew herself up, and bit back the vomit that wanted to crawl up her throat. “On peut essayer,” she snarled, injecting the words with every ounce of venom she could muster. “Mais pas aujourd’hui.”

The grin only spread wider. He further into her personal space, but halted, glancing down in confusion. The point of dagger pressed against his ribs. She pressed it deeper, emphasising the crux of her argument, her free hand fisted in his gambeson to prevent escape if she decided to drive it deep. Just an inch, and it would pierce his stomach; part of her wanted him to try. She wanted the excuse, wanted to see him suffer, to be the cause of it and watch him die like an animal.

Instead, Baudrillard pulled away, his voice a smirk in the shadows. “Bien joué, little bird. Your Seawolf whore of a mother would have been proud.”

Offering a bow that flirted with the edge of mockery, he barged past her towards his own quarters. Her grip on her dagger squeezed so tight her knuckles bulged white against her skin.

“Baudrillard.”

He halted. She watched him from the corner of her eye.

“If I hear you have taken out your frustrations here on anyone else – and I will hear of it – you will not make it to Jader with your head.”

“The Falcon of Highever, making threats?” he sneered. “How little you must think of me.”

She waited until his footsteps had long since fallen into silence, her conversation with the king and her other worries forgotten as she fought the nausea licking at her insides. Her limbs shook, her breath stuttered in her chest as badly as it had at Glenlough, her heart a ferocious tattoo in her ears and the Thorn still clutched like a lifeline in her fist. She swallowed, sheathed it, and rolled her shoulders back as she marched towards her room. If he were watching, she would not show weakness. If he were waiting, she would be ready.

There were other things she tried not to think about as her strides ate up the corridor. Cuno would be waiting for her, most likely snoring on her bed, but Mabari had no words and despite the comfort he could offer it wasn’t the same. With shock swelling to calm the tempest of her rage, quiet stole into the void between her ribs, loneliness that beat against her heart and brought her footsteps quicker and quicker to her door, until she was almost running in her desperation to be away from the world. Her hand fumbled on the doorknob as she tried to turn it. When she was finally through, in the blessed silence of her own private space, she sagged back against the frame, fighting the panic that was threatening to consume her. Cuno, startled awake by her entrance, chuffed at her when she didn’t acknowledge him, but her hearing swam in and out of focus. Her legs refused to support her weight.

She snapped the command to light the glowstone on her small writing desk. A blank sheet of paper rested on the board next and her pen, and the inkpot already unstoppered, as if waiting for her. Still shaking, she lurched forward, one thought clear even as her hands fumbled and spattered ink across the page, Alistair’s name in her mind bright and sharp as the gleam of sunlight on the sea…

Her hand faltered before she finished scratching the first letter. Hopelessness bloomed deep in her stomach. How many times had she written out his name, only to receive nothing in return but his silence? Letter after letter sent, hours spent worrying, hours more trying to quell the nausea of knowing she had overstepped, exposed too much, allowed hope to overcome caution and tip her too far away from what she was, who she was meant to be. Ever since his letters had stopped, the feeling had grown in her like a vine, a creeping despair that choked its way through her insides like ivy over the limbs of a great tree. Her fingers trembled. She was alone. She was alone. Alone with the dark and the cold pressing inwards, silence and blood and breath crushed from her lungs.

A curse tore from her throat as she balled the paper up in her fist and hurled it across the room, then growled again when that did not serve, stood, and wrenched the desk from its place to throw it after the paper with a scream of fury. The spindly legs splintered, papers scattered, and the uncorked bottle of ink poured its guts out over the simple rag carpet, looking like blood in the low, bluish light of the glowstone. For a moment she stood, passing her gaze over the carnage without comprehension until she was startled by someone insistent beating on her door.

“Your Ladyship – I heard a noise, are you alright?” One of her guards.

She swallowed, forced a breath. “I’m fine. I tripped, is all. Go back to your station.”

“Aye, Ma’am.”

The footsteps receded. Her knees buckled. Her chest heaved in a huge, unsteady gust as she sank against the side of her bed, barely aware of Cuno next to her. The butt of his cold, wet nose nudged under her elbow with a whine to ask what was wrong.

“I’m alright, boy,” she reassured him, smiling when he darted a lick across her wrist. “I’m alright.”

In the morning, she would have to be the teyrna again, and play her part without any hint of fatigue or strain, but for the moment, her limbs lacked the strength to even stand. She scratched her dog’s ears, smiling as he wriggled down and flopped into her lap with his paws in the air, playing the clown to keep her grief at bay. His concern brought a lump to the back of her throat.

“At least you’re still with me, hey?”

He sneezed, and rolled over onto the floor.

“Alright, I get the hint.”

Tottering like an old woman, she eased upright and turned to her bed, pushing aside the covers as she pushed the still-toppled writing desk from her mind. The morning would be soon enough to deal with it, with the distance of a night’s sleep and her boundaries back in place, when she could pretend the loss of control an accident, rather than a warning like the first specks of rain in a darkening sky before a storm.

The dog stayed by her side as she mechanically stripped and changed into sleep clothes, then waited patiently as she slipped her dagger into its customary place under her pillow and slipped under the covers. She clucked her tongue and he leapt onto the mattress to settle his bulk against her side. The weight helped ground her, tugging her towards sleep, but the blackness that had chased her all the way from the cloister could not be dissipated so easily. As always, her thoughts drifted to Alistair. It wasn’t a dog she imagined curling around her, that wrapped hands around her waist, or laid kisses and sweet words against her shoulder. She tried to beat the image back, to drown out the voice now little more than memory, but its soft tones were insidious, and her strength was all but spent.

I don’t love him, she scolded herself, dashing away the tears that leaked onto her pillow. I’m not in love with him. I can’t be. I’m not.

Yet even with only herself in the darkness, she couldn’t believe the lie.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #alistair theirin #rosslyn cousland #cousland #king cailan

[jadeender]

The One of Storms

Wind woke up as he had for the last several days dreaming of storms. He was back sailing the oceans with the King of Red Lions but a storm was brewing and he never made it back to land before the storm swept him under.

The sky above their camp was grey with storm clouds gathering. As they packed everything up thunder and lightning sounded in the distance.

"We need to get moving before the rain gets bad." Warriors called over the camp. Harsh winds began to blow as everyone hastily packed up their things and trudged on.

"There should be caves on the other side of the mountain." Hyrule told them, "we can wait out the storm there."

Wind felt as though his dream had never ended, the skies above echoing those in his dream. Tempest was still as loud as always, he would find anything and everything to complain about. The pace of movement, the monsters, everything, and especially Wind himself.

He’d been trying to keep calm and not let the darks words affect him but it was hard when your constantly being told how much of a failure you are. Tempest’s anger only seemed to grow after time as he was tired of being trapped inside Wind’s head. At this point Wind suspected the dark could take control if he wanted to but didn’t know how to.

They trudged on around the mountain as rain began to fall.

"This place and it's monsters are disgusting, you can barely handle it pipsqueak." Tempest mocked.

"It would be a lot easier without the storm." Wind commented.

"Maybe you need to learn to deal with it." Tempest argued. "It's not like you can control the weather."

As Tempest spoke the thunder boomed loudly and lightning stuck near the group.

"It's not safe." Time called. "We need to move faster."

The party picked up their pace, the rain seemed to draw out this hyrules Zora, which instead of being allies as they were in most other hyrules where enemies that needed to be defeated. As they continued on Tempest got grumpier and grumpier and the storm continued to grow.

"Just finish him whelp." Tempest cried as Wind slashed at another Zora as he did lightning struck the Zora killing it instantly.

"Did….. did you do that?" Wind asked speechless. "You can summon lightning? That's so cool!"

Wind briefly forgot his feeling towards his dark and was just excited about the new ability Wind tried to summon some lightning but found he couldn't.

"That my power child, you can't use it." Tempest screamed the downpour becoming almost blinding as the force of rain became twice as hard.

“Stop calling me a child!” Wind yelled out loud causing the others to look at him for a moment before continuing on. “If I’m a child then you’re one too!”

“No I’m not.” Tempest yelled back his voice almost deafening inside Wind’s head, the storm grew more intense once again, the wind almost forcing the boy that bore its name off his feet.

“We’re almost there.” Came Hyrules voice on the wind, its tone bitter and tired.

Tempest continued to rant and rave only growing more agitated as the storm worsened. Wind himself started to feel and worse and worse. His head hurt from Tempest yelling, his limbs were tired from trudging through the rain. Worse he was scared, nervous about his dark, scared of the storm, an embarrassing fear he’d been hiding that had been fostered from the deaths a simple storm could cause while at sea.

The rounded the final corner and the entrance to the cave came into sight. The links rushed forward in a last burst of energy making it to the cave and darting inside happy to be out of the rain. Once inside the cave the rang water out of their hair and wiped it from their eyes.

Someone brought out some wood and Legend started a fire with his fire rod, they all somewhat immediately stripped off their soaked outer tunics and surrounded the fire trying to warm up. Teeth chattering and the small indications of movement were the only sounds.

The storm continued to rage as they tried to warm up.

“We’re going to catch hypothermia like this Time.” Warriors told their leader. “Everyone's extra clothes and bags are soaked.”

“What can we do then?” Time asked defeatedly.

“I…. I have an idea.” Legend chattered out. “The…. the…. Darks camp. They have extra clothes there, I…. I can get them.”

“That not a good idea Legend what if you get stuck. Especially with your…. precarious situation with Acidic.” Warriors responded. “You may not be able to control his powers.”

Four raised his hand rapidly waving it. He signed something to Wild who translated in lieu of using his now soaked journal.

“He says he can help. Shadow can help them get there.” Wild translated. Wind looked back and forth at them, the smallest of them all Four was racked with bad shaking, the bandages around his injured neck soaked and useless.

“Are you sure?” Time asked looking pointedly at Four who nodded rapidly. “Ok go, having the dark’s clothes is better than getting sick.”

Legend and Four stood up and walked over to one of the great shadows cast by the fire and stepped into it before disappearing. It was still a jarring sight to see them disappear but Wind moved his attention back to the fire and back to blocking out his dark.

“Wait what about your mirror.” Wind suddenly thought. “Will they find it when they go back to your camp?”

“It’s not there.” Tempest mumbled.

“Then where is it?” Wind asked. “It's kind of important to know since hurting it could hurt me too.”

Tempest’s anger dropped and he just started to give of a sad aura before flaring up again like a dying fire. “Its with someone I trust.”

Someone Tempest trusted? It almost seemed impossible, another dark maybe? Wind really doubted it. “With who?”

“It doesn't matter I said it was safe.” Tempest huffed.

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does!” Though Wind wasn't fully aware he was yelling aloud at this point frustrated by his dark. “You always act like you’re so much better than me, I bet you lost the damn thing and are just too ashamed to admit it.”

“Arylla has it!” Tempest screeched the storms rage pausing for a brief second before once again slamming the outside of the cave.

Wind was speechless. “Aryll? My sister Aryll? Why in the hell would she ever have it?” Wind replied once he found his voice.

“She….. she’s someone very dear to me. She was the one was nice to me when I was alone, she even gave me my name. She’d never let anything happen to it.” Tempest huffed going quiet. Wind just sat thier completely dumb founded. She’d known about Tempest for all this time, possibly even years and she never said anything.

Aryll was smart though, Wind thought she didn’t tell him because she thought Wind would try to break it possibly rather than risk her being hurt.

“We’re back.” Legend’s voice broke their silence as he and Four reappeared from the shadows carrying several bags and pieces of clothing. They had already changed into their new clothes and for a second Wind could have sworn they were the darks themselves if not for Fours blond hair and Legend’s blue eye.

They passed out clean dry clothes to everyone who began to change except Wild who had pulled a new outfit from within the shiekah slate. Pretty soon they looked like a pack of darks, those who wore armor kept their own armor but chose their dark’s clothes.

Time’s completely black outfit contrasted oddly with his bright silver armor. Savages black strangely enough matched Twilights golden chainmail quite nicely if not for the rips and tears in the tunic though he forwent wearing savages wolf pelt and instead had opted to wait till his was dry. Hyrule looked almost identical to callous in a complete clothing change, similar for Warriors who kept his own shoulder piece but donned Conquerors clothes and currently forwent a scarf claiming he wanted to wait till they were both dry.

Wind himself got redressed completely in Tempest’s outfit, which like his own was rather simple. It seemed odd to be wearing Tempest’s clothes, that and knowing his sister care for and trusted him felt different.

It was hard to immediately switch thoughts after this same person had spent weeks telling him he was nothing, but that was what Tempest was supposed to be as a dark right? After they finished changing the storm died down alot to a simple constant drizzle.

“Maybe…. maybe we could start again.” Wind ventured to ask his dark.

#linkeduniverse #merged #very stormy times #a wardrobe change #tempest needs to learn to chill #soon to be gremlin twins

[sleepyfan-blog]

Gathering Storm

Chapter five of the confession series. Chapter one here. Previous chapter here. AO3 link. 

characters and pairing: Dream, Nightmare, Horrortale Sans, Dust!Sans, Killer!Sans, dreammare

warnings: none

word count: 2,614

Summary: Dream collects the fruits and nuts so they don’t get ruined before an oncoming storm hits the garden and castle. 

I would like to thank @trashydragonartist7 for helping me edit this fic

tagslist: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi​ @therandomskelekey @capisnotonfire

It was incredibly strange to see how their world had changed in the three hundred years that he had apparently been trapped in stone. The sky - when clear - was a dark rust red during the day, and a strange violet-grey at night, with only a couple of stars that dotted the sky. When it was foggy, it was a dense, impenetrable grey mist that seemed to sap all of the light and energy out of everything that it touched. Or so Dream felt, in the three months since he had woken up. Nightmare had changed as well - he was... Dream shuddered a little as he recalled a recent memory.

Dream had just finished baking a dozen hand pies filled with the meat that Hatchet preferred most. The positive spirit didn't much care for the taste of it, but he dutifully followed the recipe that he'd been given - including the amount of spices, and they looked and smelled really, really good. There had been some pie dough left over, and both because Dream knew that Hatchet really hated it when food - any kind of food - was wasted, and because he was a little bored while waiting for the hand pies to cook and had already cleaned up all the things that he'd used in preparing the dish, he had rolled out the pie dough and used a cookie cutter to make a bunch of butterfly-shaped cookies - making some chocolate frosting as he knew that Killer had a sweet tooth as well, and planned to share them with the other.

Dream had been very careful about the amount of magic that he used in making the cookies - as he wasn't following a strict recipe - and the last thing he needed was to accidentally create another living confection that followed him around for a couple of weeks before it died and crumbled into crumbs, the magic sustaining it spent. He'd even found a small bag of very delicious mint candies to put on the cookies for eyes - they were light and sweet and melted in his mouth like butter. Dream had put the cookies on a plate and went off in search of Killer, having set the hand pies on a cooling rack so that their undersides wouldn't burn.

He had been half-way across the castle - as the other was in one of the sparring rooms, when he felt a wave of fury hit him with enough force to cause the positive spirit to stumble and fall, collapsing against a nearby wall, his limbs refusing to move. Dream was barely able to catch the cookies before they fell onto the floor and break apart, crawling forwards on his hands and knees to do so. He shuddered and groaned, coughing as he slumped over, a second wave of pitch black wrath slamming into him and rendering him completely unable to move. A soft sound of pain left the positive spirit before he could stop himself as a third wave of outrage hit him, and Dream instinctively summoned a shield to try to protect himself. He blinked blearily as he stared at the nearly transparent golden dome that surrounded him, having never seen this before - but it was clearly made from his own magic - and was taking a frightening amount of magic to maintain in this deeply negative space.

It shattered and vanish as a fourth wave of ire hit the positive spirit, and Dream realized that the darkness at the edges of his vision signaled impending unconsciousness. With the last of his waning strength, Dream forced himself to teleport close to the source of the anger, his eye lights shrinking to pinpricks as he realized that he was in the hallway just before Nightmare's throne room. The commander of the Dark Papyri guards who protected the entrance came rushing forwards, worry in the other’s aura which caused Dream to whimper a little - the extra negative emotions not helping the weakened positive spirit whatsoever. "Your m-majesty! What's wrong?" They spluttered, dropping their weapon as she caught him as he fell forwards.

"T-Too... m-much ne-negativity... N-Need to calm... the p-person down..." Dream managed to say, determined not to pass out, even as he found himself wholly incapable of any further movement on his own. None of the dark Papyri moved or spoke - but the fear and alarm in their emotive auras caused the positive spirit to frown - they knew who he was talking about. "Please... Into... the throne room... I need... To calm this person down."

Before any of them could speak, Nightmare's voice - louder and more threatening than he'd ever heard it, even when the other had been trying to get the last positive apple from him. "IF ANY OF YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID EVER AGAIN, I WILL MAKE YOUR FINAL MOMENTS A MISERABLE ETERNITY OF AGONY. YOU WILL BEG ME FOR DEATH, AND IT WILL BE A MERCY I GRANT YOU SLOWLY. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

Another wave of fury hit Dream as the other screamed, and he shuddered a little, a small whimper left his lips. He called out as loudly as he could, weakly reaching out for his furious mate, curling in on himself as the Dark Papyrus who was holding him shifted a little, the fear and concern in their aura rising a great deal. "Ni-Nightmare? Wh-What's wrong?"

Some of the rage vanished - replaced by confusion and surprise. Nightmare teleported in front of the both of them and rushed towards the both of them, grabbing Dream out of the Dark Papyrus's grip, checking him over and frowning, worry filling his aura. "Dream... Why is your MP so low? What happened?"

"T-Too much negativity... P-Please calm down, Nighty..." The positive spirit confessed, golden eye lights mostly fuzzed out, shaking a little at the unexpected wrath and fury he could still sense within the other, completely taken aback.

Panic and uncertainty filled Nightmare’s aura, but his other half started to do some breathing exercises that caused the dark emotions to ease. “I… I am sorry I didn’t realize that me losing my temper like that would cause you harm. I’ll… I’ll do all I can to not hurt your like this again.” The other pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, surprise, guilt and worry in the other’s emotional aura. “... Rest, Dream. We can enjoy the cookies together later, alright?”

“I… Okay…” Dream realized that he was very tired. He yawned and nuzzled into his beloved. “Mngh… Cuddles, please? At least while I fall asleep?”

Nightmare nodded, his aura still worried and unsure, but also filled with love and care. “Of course. I’ll take you to our bedroom so that you can rest properly.” The negative spirit had then held him a little bit closer and teleported the both of them to their private rooms.

Dream had tentatively asked the other later, what had caused him to be so furious. Nightmare had answered - but only after a really long time - knocking on one of the wooden bed posts of their bed, and starting a game of Confession Time, explaining that he’d lost his temper. It had been caused by a couple of his people very nearly been followed back to this Universe by a couple of dangerous enemies - which might have endangered the lives of the mortals who lived in this world, as well as putting Dream in danger. Nightmare was terrified of losing him to these mysterious enemies of his. Dream had been wanting to explore other world, but he hadn’t asked to after that, knowing that asking bothered his beloved and not wanting to make the other worry that he’d wander off on his own if not allowed to wander at Nightmare’s side.

That had been a couple of months ago. Dream very much wanted to explore the wider multiverse - and not in the least bit because he knew that both of them could create portals. Nightmare was able to open portals to worlds that had negativity in them -  the darker the world, the easier that he could traverse into them, and the stronger he was... So the reverse was true for Dream himself. The positive spirit mentally shook himself as he focused on his surroundings, smiling a little as he continued to pluck more of the ripe berries in the garden that his beloved had created for him. It really was quite beautiful.

He shivers a little as a cold breeze stirs through the berry bushes, and Dream glances upwards, frowning a little as he notices the very dark and ominous looking clouds that were sweeping across the rust-red sky. Dream had been gathering as much of the edible fruits, nuts, vegetables, herbs and spices as he could for the past couple of weeks - as one thing that hadn't changed was the weather, and from what he'd been able to tell, they were going to be hit with a bad storm soon - and the last thing that he wanted was for all of the lovely, magical food to go to waste because no one gathered it up first. Not that Nightmare allowed anyone but the two of them into this place still - although why he was so stubborn about it, Dream had yet to pry from his beloved.

The positive spirit knew that he had another three-four hours if he was lucky, less than one if he wasn't. Still, Dream moved as swiftly as he could, gathering the last of the berries that he could find  - making sure to separate them by type in his inventory. He teleported just in front of the castle gates before running inside as the rain chased him inwards, heading to the kitchens to begin preparing the fresh produce so that they wouldn't spoil. Killer was currently sitting on top of one of the fridges, hissing a little and swiping his dagger at Dust - who was attempting to take some of the chocolate clutched tightly in the former's other hand. Hatchet was glaring at the both of them and rubbing his temples with his hands.

"Uhm... What's going on here?" Dream called out, confusion and concern filling him as he hoped to diffuse the situation before they could hurt each other. He knew that it irritated and worried Nightmare when they fought like this.

"Dream! I st- bought some chocolate in and Underfell AU and Killer took it from me! He won't let me eat my chocolate and it's not fair!" Dust protested, lobbing a bone at Killer, probably with the intention of pinning the other in place.

Killer dodged and batted the bone back at Dust with his knife and growled back "Like hell! This is my chocolate I got from a Havenfell, and that jackass is trying to steal the chocolate that is rightfully mine! If he wants chocolate, he has to go ask boss to open a portal so he can get some of his own."

Dream happened to have 180 cocoa pods from the six cocoa trees that Nightmare had planted in the garden - which from what he'd read up on how to make chocolate... Which would make between thirteen and eighteen pounds of chocolate. "You know... If you help me make chocolate, I will give you a portion of it. Nightlight planted cocoa trees in the garden and the pods were ready for harvest, so I grabbed them. And a whole bunch of other stuff, but I can't make food in the kitchen if you’re fighting..."

Both Dust and Killer were suddenly in front of him, their eye lights wide with delight and curiosity "Soo, what do we need to do? No, no more fighting here, Boss Dream!" Hatchet also looked curious, and the tallest of Nightmare's friends/top lieutenants moved closer as well.

Dream chuckled a little, his eye lights shining brightly with the others' enthusiasm. "I've been doing some research, and-" He explained the process of turning cocoa pods into chocolate, finishing with, "All told, it's going to take a couple of weeks, but I'm sure that the end process will be worth it - besides, I have an earlier batch of cocoa beans that are ready to process - he planted two different kinds of cocoa trees. We also need to process the rest of the food - there's a bad storm coming soon and I didn't want the food to spoil."

The other three skeletons nodded, and Dream begun to pull out the fresh ingredients, laying them out on the table - each of them working quickly to weave preservation spells on the incredibly tasty ingredients. They were about half-way done when a loud, low rumble seemed to shake the castle to it's very foundations. Hatchet, Killer and Dust paused for a moment before shrugging a little - it must be one of the occasional thunderstorms that came through this AU.

Dream on the other hand, froze up, a frightened squeak leaving him as his eye lights vanished. He trembled a little and hunched on himself at the second clap of thunder that rumbled around them seconds later... And at the third, Dream ran from the room, his breathing fast and shallow. "No... No no no no!" He had to get somewhere safe, it was too open - too dark and negativity pressed against him from all sides. He had to- to escape. He had to find Nightmare and they had to find someplace calmer - before... Before... The positive spirit skidded to a halt as he stared up at his beloved in horror - the other's form dripping with corruption and malice, the frightened supplicants kneeling before the throne of skulls and death "Ah!" He exclaimed, teleporting off and hissing in shock as wards slammed down around him, pinning him down in the corridor, even as he clawed and scratched at them with his hands and magic, desperate to escape, the concussive rumbling thunder filling his head and his soul with fear.

He shoots the rune binding him in place with a bow and arrow he doesn't remember ever possessing, stumbling forwards and nearly falling as the bonds keeping him in place snap and shatter into nothingness. He has - he has to escape. Dream tugs at the thing pressing against his neck, terrified that everything is about to go black as cold nothingness will envelop his mind, trapping him in a dark, empty void where he can only dimly sense his other half occasionally, unable to see, move, hear or speak.

The guardian of positivity continues to flee, dodging the grasping hands of the corrupted beings who are trying to surround him - their voices and negative, confused and confusing emotions that he can sense from them battering at his senses. He shoves his way clear of them- dodging the slick tentacles that will choke and consume his consciousness again if they touch him, and a golden circle that promises safety appears before him as he runs through, and he hears it snap shut, even as familiar-strange voices yell for him to come back, echoing in his head as Dream runs through it.

He blinks twice as he staggers through the snow - startled at the sudden drop in temperature. Strange mortals all stare at him and Dream focuses on two of them.

They're skeletons - one of whom looks like an uncorrupted version of a dark Papyrus. the other looks... a lot like himself? He blinks a little - the light blue clothing, rounded smile. Something presses against the back of his frightened and exhausted mind "Oh... You're... a Swap... Sans..." He collapses face forwards into the snow, the shock of the increased positivity around him too much for him to handle at the moment - particularly since it's been so terribly negative in his home timeline for so very long.

#my writing #confession series #dreammare #dream sans #nightmare sans #killer sans #dust sans #horrortale sans

[crookedmoonlight123]

The Rain Woman - Chapter 17 -The Last Raindrop

The Rain Woman - Chapter 17 -The Last Raindrop

 A/N: Thankyou for the reviews of last chapter and all the follows and favourites!  This is it!  The last one! Enjoy 😊

  Beads of sweat descended off the icemages forehead, rolling down his cheeks and chin, dripping its salty solution onto the floor.  His bare chest rising and falling with each exhausted breath.  Gray had been trying to brake or squirm out the chains that bound him for what seemed like forever.  The door across the room creaked open and three silhouettes entered the dark space.  A ball of flame appeared slightly illuminating a wizards face before it fired off into the sconces on the walls and the candle chandelier on the ceiling in the middle of the room, throwing the whole area into colour, well colour being the dreary gray brick and green moss that lined both the walls and floor.

 “Your time has come little ice wizard.”  The middle one smirked his voice velvety smooth, his dark blue hair stuck out at odd angles almost as if he had been dragged through a hedge backwards and his lime green eyes stuck out like a sore thumb against his tanned skin.

 “Yeah and don’t try anything funny.”  The one on the left spoke with rough, grating tone of voice, he was built like a tank with short, close cut light green hair military style, they moved towards the icemage in a line, the fire wizard reaching out towards Grays feet with some more restraints, Gray shoved his shoulder back against the wall feeling the cold, damp of it on his hot sweaty skin, before kicking his unbound feet into the fire wizard sending him stumbling back a few paces groaning in agony.

 “Why you little…”  His right hand clutched at his abdomen, the left aimed a fire ball at Gray who was helpless to do anything, the fire burned a sharp but short searing pain through his body as the icemage closed his eyes to take the attack, he opened them again briefly only to be met with a punch squarely in the face and one around his head causing him to smack his head back on the wall behind him, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth where he had bit his tongue and they had busted his lip. Gray felt the shackles fasten around his ankles, as he let his body go limp, one eye creeping open as he was dragged out the room in the bright light and a sea of unfamiliar faces.

 Juvia sunk back on her knees once she was alone, tears streamed down her face dripping onto the floor as anger made her blood boil;

 “STUPID! STUPID JUVIA!”  The watermage pounded on the floor repeatedly, why did Juvia not tell Gray-sama about the letters from the very beginning?  Juvia let out a sob remembering the threat which had been made against him. Juvia watched her teardrops amounting on the floor, could Juvia turn herself into a puddle and seep through the bars?  She was sceptical after all it could be an electrical forcefield and not just the bars themselves, but still, she had to try, her beloved’s life was at stake.

 “Waterbody.”  Juvia whispered feeling her cells change as the door opened once again and hurried footsteps could be heard, they pounded urgently on the floor and Juvias eyes grew wide at the sight of the person in front of her; Mitch.

 “Need a hand?”  Mitch smiled that crooked smile at her, hitting a button on the opposite wall as he stepped closer.

 “How are? Why are you?”  Juvia was lost for words.  “How does Juvia know she can trust you.”  Juvia already knew the answer, he had always been looking out for her.

 “We don’t have time for all that, Gray is about to be killed!”  He didn’t shout but he raised his voice in a matter of urgency, as he opened the lock with a key and let her out.

 Juvia made a run for it her heels clicking on the floor only pausing when she got to the door way, was she to go left, right or straight on? She chewed the inside of her cheek.

 “Hold up a minute!”  Mitch shouted catching up with her, “you don’t know the way.”  Juvia stared at him, her eyes narrowed but Mitch could see clarity and purpose in them now, no, he could see life.

 “Well then let’s go if you are going to assist me.”  Juvia said in a low, impatient voice.

 “This way.” Mitch led her off to the right at a run, it wouldn’t be long before guards were swarming the place and surrounding them.  They went straight at another cross roads before taking another right straight into four wizards completely blocking off the corridor.

 “Water nebula!”  Two columns of water took out two of the wizards, sending them flying back and through a large metal door.

 “I’ll handle these last two and anymore that have followed us up behind.”  He locked his eyes on Juvia, “Gray is through those doors.”  Juvia wasn’t sure whether he was leading her into a trap or not, but he had opened her cell door and had led her this far.  

 “Thanks.” She nodded at Mitch before launching herself through the metal doors into a room full of people and her Gray-sama, head bowed, knelt and bloodied at the centre.  Was she too late?  “GRAY-SAMA!”  Juvia hadn’t even known she had spoke let alone shouted until she heard her own voice echoing off the walls back at her.

 Gray could barely make out the faces and he struggled to regain the focus in the left eye, he could open it now, but everything was blotchy.  He was jeered and spat at as he was dragged through the crowd like an animal carcass on parade, a lamb to slaughter, a sacrifice. The icemage was pulled up onto a platform and forced to kneel.  His mind wandered to Juvia, her beautiful smile, her loving eyes.

 “Fellow wizards!”  Juvias father bellowed, silencing the gathering, the icemage remembered the first time they had met on the roof of phantom lord one rainy day, how he thought she was beautiful even then, sad, but beautiful, the prophecy which had been spoken to him not so long before about “water and women” she was ‘the rain women’. “You are all here to witness the death of a pesky Fairy Tail wizard, one that has foiled my- “He cleared his throat, “our plans.  He has led my daughter awry and with his death she shall follow us once more!”  The crowd cheered and clapped, Gray still remembered dying for her at the Grand Magic Games, a secret he kept to himself, he didn’t know the extent of his feeling back then.  He thought of the missions they went on together, the pool table they had been given as a gift.  The background noise stopped, the crowd had stopped cheering, am I dead?

 “GRAY-SAMA!”  His raven eyes shot open wide, his heart pounding hard in his chest as if trying to break free, he’d know that beautiful voice anywhere.  There she was, Juvia, his Juvia, standing tall, a sudden look of relief on her face as he had lifted his head.

 Juvia flew into action the second she saw that black mop of hair rise and those coal black eyes bore into hers, she would save him, she could save him, she still had time. Wielding her water magic Juvia attacked any and all, conjuring up dark water nebulas and cyclones, water clawing any who came too close.  The watermage managed to wipe out the top two rows of ‘spectators’ in the semi circled seating area.  Panting hard she looked up towards the platform where her father stood enraged, a look of pure evil and anger across his face, teeth gritted together hard.

 “Why you!” He roared across the room as he motioned to the two wizards either side of Gray, who nodded to one another, one used his wind to tear bit by bit at the icemages skin, Gray grimaced, why couldn’t they just kill him already if that was their intention. He looked up to see Juvia making her way over as fast as she could, he had to act now.

 Juvia didn’t have to think as jumped and leaped over the rows of seats knocking the opposing wizards sideways and blasting them with jets of water, her one goal, her one path was to get to Gray-sama before the two wizards could harm him further.

 Gray bent his legs up so only his bottom was on the floor and used his shackled hands to spin himself around 360 degrees, sticking his legs out straight, he took the two wizards by surprise sending them toppling over and off the platform edge, before he to, jumped up and half hobbled half jumped off the platform himself only to be caught mid-air in a water noose.

 Juvia had almost made it all the way down to platform, her eyes locked onto her Gray-sama, only a few metres to go. Juvias eyes went wide as the ground suddenly rose up in front of her blocking her way.

 Juvia glared at the offending wizard, “boiling water cyclone!”  The watermage shouted as the boiling cyclone melted through the column like a hot knife through butter.  Nothing would get in the way of her getting to her beloved.  The watermage lurched forwards just as Gray threw himself off the low platform, he almost hit the floor but what happened was worse.  Her father had him in a water noose, dangling in the air in front of her, taunting her.

 “Gray-sama!”  Juvia shrieked, looking suddenly to Jimquin.  “Release him!”  Desperation in her voice, “Please!”  The watermage begged, clasping her hands in front of her, even though she knew it was futile, her father was beyond reason now.

 “Pah!” He shouted, “look at you, begging for your ‘beloveds’ life.”  He paused, a twinkle in his eye, “just like your mother did when I had my men dispatch her on the road.”  Juvia threw her hands to her face in horror.  Her mother!  Had been murdered?  Under her own fathers’ instruction.  Tears filled her eyes, spilling over the edges and sobs escaped her mouth.  Grays heart twisted in sympathy, but anger crackled through him.  “She would have only spread alarm, of both my plans for you and the whole of Fiore.”  He gloated, “she had to be dealt with accordingly…”  Jimquin almost sounded sad as he trailed off, seeming lost in past memories, maybe of their happy days.

 “Water key.”  Juvia whispered, not breaking her fathers eye contact, she had never tried to make a water key before, but clearly Gray-sama was unable to use magic otherwise Juvia was sure that he would’ve broken free by now.  The water key floated towards the shackles that bound Grays hands in front of him.

 “But I am sure that once this bump in the road is dealt with, you will join us again.  I’m sure Jose will be happy to see your improvements.”  The water wizard sounded proud, it sickened Juvia to think she was his pawn as she had been Joses’ pawn but this was worse, he was her father he was meant to protect her.

 “Water key.”  The watermage conjured up another water key, both Gray-samas restraints would have to be released at the same time.

 “Juvia will never join you.”  She glared at him, as the keys slotted into place.

 “Fine.” The noose tightened a bit and Gray choked.  “Have it your way!”  A clicking sound could be heard, as the shackles came undone, crashing to the floor in a heap.

 “Gray-sama!”  Juvia shouted, “Water slicer!”  Juvia added some dark magic into the water, overpowering her father noose and cutting Gray-sama free.

 The icemage fell to the floor, only for a few seconds as Juvia raced to his side, before his devil slayer magic took hold, the black mark covering half his body, “Let’s get outta here.”  He smiled at Juvia, taking in the smile and slight blush in her cheeks.

 “Yes, my love, let’s.”   Juvia turned to her father, who was stood in shock.  She is stronger than I thought, the dark magic has more of an impact on her water magic than I thought possible.

 “I think you’re outnumbered.”  He smirked at the two Fairy Tail mages, straightening his suit.

 Gray and Juvia glanced around them, they were surrounded, would they be able to take on her father and the room of wizards?  Or would they just escape with their lives and leave Juvias father behind?

 The watermage turned to Gray.  “My love, what are we to do?”  The stood arm to arm, a warmth and power flowing between them.

 “Damn it.” Gray groaned.  “I think we’re going to have to just make a run for it, I’m pretty low on magic.”  He paused. “But I have enough for this at least.” The devil slaying magic tingled at his fingertips.  “Ice-make Hammer!”  Gray took Jimquin by surprise as a devil slayer ice hammer landed on his head, knocking him unconscious.  

 The room of wizards closed quarters on the pair of mages.  “Now let’s go!”  Gray grabbed Juvia by the hand and began to pull her away.

 “Lightning dance!”  Someone shouted as random bolts of lightning rained down striking both Gray and Juvia with a strong current.

 “Wind slicer!”  

 “Earth hammer!”  More attacks came flying in, as they struggled to dodge them, Juvia dress coat being sliced open to reveal a green corset, and Greys trousers ripping down the legs.

 “That’s enough!”  Juvia shouted stripping down, her dark water magic rising inside her, “Water lock!” Gray looked surprised as Juvia focused on only allowing a certain amount of the dark magic to be used as each and every person was encircled in their own water lock.  “Go my love!”  Juvia gritted her teeth in concentration.  “I’ll be right behind you.”

 “No way!” He replied, “I’m not leaving you! You can’t keep this up.”  Juvias hand wavered as Jimquin stirred behind them.

 “Go!” Juvia pleaded, Gray just took her soft hand in his, the other turning her face to meet his.

 “I said, I am not leaving you, Juvia.”  The waterlocks broke as tears brimmed in Juvias eyes.

 “Gray-sama…”  She trailed off awash with emotion.

 “We’re getting out of this together.”  Gray paused as the wizards in the waterlock began to pull themselves up off the floor and regain their breath.  “I’ve been meaning to say…”  his eyes frantically searched hers.  He had practised this a million times over, but now, looking into the vast sea of her navy-blue eyes he felt lost.  “I…” He craned his head, his hand still cradling her cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips, feeling the soft plumpness of them, the sweat scent of a fresh spring morning, meadow flowers and that lavender shampoo she always used, he felt like putty but at the same time strong.  They say action speak louder than words.

 Grays lips met Juvias and at that moment she felt like the world had simply fell away, that it was just the two of them, she felt whole, light and joyous, like all her wishes had come true at once, she felt strong but at the same time vulnerable.  The icemage pulled away slowly.  “Love you.” Her eyes shone at those words, her spirit renewed as Gray-sama still held her hand.

 “Let’s go home.”  He smiled at her as their magic grew, melding and sparking, wind whipped from nowhere, water rose and span around them mixed with shards of ice as they stared at their foes, feeling joined in more ways than one.

 “Gahhhhh!” They both shouted leaning forwards and throwing all their magic, dark and good at the enemies who stood in their path to happiness and freedom.  All the mages went flying into and through walls screaming as a huge tidal wave of water and ice hit them hard, Juvia and Gray didn’t waste any time in making a run for the doors.

 “STOP!!!” A loud booming voice that could only belong to Jimquin resounded through their very core.

 The pair made it through the threshold and straight into Mitch.  “You guys made it!”  He exclaimed.

 “Yes, but Juvias father has regained consciousness!”  Juvia blurted out quickly.  “We must go!”

 “Wait a sec, isn’t he bad?”  Gray folded his arms staring at Mitch.

 “No, my love, he actually helped Juvia, he helped me not lose control of myself and my magic.” She paused, “he also broke me out of the cell to come rescue you.” Gray glanced at Juvia then back at Mitch.  

 “Well then let’s all get out of here!”  The icemage pulled Juvias hand again.

 “You two go, I’ll keep Jimquin sealed in here with my shielding magic.”  Mitch spoke not looking at the pair, “I work for the magic council and sent word to them just before we left to come here.” Juvia was shocked.  “They’ll be arriving any minute.”  

 As if on cue a large group of magic council members stormed the corridor, their white cloaks gliding majestically along behind them.  Juvia looked at Gray confused then back at Mitch.

 “But… if you were a council member all along then why didn’t you stop anything from happening?”  Juvia enquired, head cocked to one side, half annoyed, half curious.

 “I…” Mitch ducked his head as the council members poured into the room Jimquin was in, “I wanted to Juvia,” he looked at her apologetically, “I was told to wait, to find out Jimquins grand plan… he started to keep close tabs on me when I started asking more questions… you were falling deeper and the last thing I wanted was to be killed or forced to leave when you were in danger from yourself, and a danger to everyone else.”  Mitch bowed his head and Juvia chewed her lip.

 “So, you were playing both sides then.”  Gray wanted to punch him and thank him both at the same time.

 “Yes… I wanted to contact the council sooner but we didn’t stay in one place long enough, when I knew we were headed here, when I saw Juvia lose control of her powers in the bar, when we chased the old man, I contacted them then, Jimquin was far behind me and you were too far ahead to hear me speaking, and then again when Jimquin went upstairs to talk to you about your mother’s death.” He finished, his pale blue eyes almost ghostly in comparison to Juvias.

 “Murder.” Juvia spoke coldly.  “My mother was killed.”  Those last words wavered and Gray squeezed her hand gently.

 “That bastard.”  He muttered, as Jimquin was escorted out bound in a strait jacket and the same anti-magic shackles he had used on Gray, flanked on each corner by council members.

 “Do you two need an escort back to Fairy Tail?”  A blond-haired council member asked.

 “No, we’ll be fine thank-you.”  The icemage glanced at Juvia, “there is somewhere I want to stop off first.” Juvia looked up questioningly but she remained silent.

  The two mages walked hand in hand, as Juvia relayed to Gray the story of her mothers romance with the real father, she also spoke about he abusive step father and how she joined and moved up the ranks of the Element 4, Jose’s connection to Jimquin, her mothers kidnap, the machine which injected her with dark magic and finally about how when his name was mentioned a little spark grew stronger. Gray listened intently the whole time as the sun beat down on them, warming their bodies and their souls although the ground was still sodden underfoot, birds were tweeting and flittering about.

 The icemage stopped as Juvia continued her story, it was all confusing, but it all added up at the same time, he had always known she had more power than she knew herself and it made him angry that others abused it, abused her very nature, tried to twist and kill her goodness.

 “You’re safe now Juvia.”  Gray cupped her cheek as her blue orbs seemed to grow larger and softer, a small blush spread over her cheeks, she was safe, he would keep her safe, even though Jose who knew of Jimquins plans was out there still.

 “Gray-sama…”  She whispered as his mouth closed in on hers, “did Gray-sama mean what he said earlier?” She tilted her head slightly, her blue waves cascading down one arm, “that he…” her face went crimson, “loves Juvia?”  The watermage cast her eyes down completely abashed.

 “Yes,” Gray lifted her chin up gently with one finger, “I love you Juvia…”  A red blush spread across his cheeks now as Juvia let out a squeal and leaped into his arms, feeling his muscles contract and relax as they embraced, she could feel his heart beating hard and fast in his chest but revelled in the moment.

 The watermage pulled back slightly, “Juvia…”  She pursed her lips, “I love you to Gray…”  His eyes filled with delight, she had dropped the “Juvia” (even though he thought it was secretly cute) and the formal “sama”.   Her lips met his first this time, the kiss deeper than before, their bodies touching in every place, Juvias hands wrapped around his neck and his settled around the small of her back comfortably.

 “I thought I had lost you…”  The icemage rested his forehead on hers staring deep into her eyes wanting to dive down into them.

 “Gray-sama never gave up.”  The “sama” was back, old habits die hard.

 “I never will.”  His eyes steeled and Juvia felt safer than ever there in that moment.

 “Where did Gray…sama,” she blushed “want to stop off before we went back to Fairy Tail?” Juvia asked holding her hands behind her back wondering what Gray-sama had planned, her mind drifting for the first time in a long time into Juvia land.

 “Here actually.”  He scratched the back of his head, snapping Juvia immediately out of any romantic overnight hotel stay fantasies she had.  “Close your eyes.”  He instructed and Juvia obeyed, placing her delicate hands over her eyes.  Gray wandered off towards a hollow in a tree where a destroyed red tote bag lay, covering a Juvia plushie.  He gentle picked the plushie up with his rough hands and walked back over to Juvia.  “Okay you can open them now.”  Juvia swiftly moved her hands, the biggest smile on her face.

 “Oh Gray-sama!  Juvia knitted that for you!”  She grinned, “Juvia was meant to give it to Gray-sama but then she had to….. OH!” Juvia went bright red.  “Has Gray-sama been in Juvias room?!” Smoke may as well as been coming out of her ears with embarrassment.

 “NO!” Gray waved his hands in front of her shaking his head, “no the girls retrieved it when they found your letters.” Juvia let out a sigh of relief.

 “Does Gray-sama like it?”  She teased poking his arm and putting on her best puppy dog eyes.

 “What sort of a question is that?!”  Gray looked away, “and also I want to stop and say thankyou to Mary and Mr. Squiggles if that’s okay?”  He changed the subject but took Juvias hand in his.

 “Yes! Juvia would love to!  You met Mr. Squiggles?  Isn’t he the cutest?”  Juvia cooed over the little black kitten as they walked hand in hand into the sunset.

 A/N: Well that is it!  I hope you have enjoyed reading this fanfic even with the huge delay in chapters at one point, thankyou to everyone who reviewed especially Juvia.hanks, all the reviews are such good inspiration and motivation to keep going forwards.

I am especially happy that I have now finished this fic, I used to get so annoyed reading Juvia backstory ones that never got completed!

 Read & Review  ---> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12261807/17/The-Rain-Woman 

 CrookedMoonlight

#gruvia #gruviafanfic #gruviafanfiction #gruvia fanfic #gruvia fanfiction #fairytail #fairytailfanfic #fairytailfanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #grayxjuvia #gray x juvia #juvia x gray #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #fanfic #fanfiction #the rain woman #angst #backstory #romance #anime #manga

[messifangirl]

Cressi Rec List (Lionel Messi/Cristiano Ronaldo Football RPF)

Now that the world cup is over, it appears that there are many new football fans interested in this pairing! I’ve made a few rec lists before (so if you’ve seen them, some of these fics may be familiar to you), but it’s been some time since then (some of those fics are deleted or the authors go by different names now etc), so here’s a list of some of my favorite complete Cressi fic posted on AO3 for anyone who is interested. 

Listed alphabetically by author and title. I’ve included the story summary, word count, rating, year posted on AO3, and a few keywords. If you check them out, please don’t forget to leave kudos and comments! (And of course, these are far from the only fics out there for this pairing--check out the Leo/Cris tag on AO3--there are a ton of fics! I just tried to narrow it down to some of my personal favorites. 57 to be exact.)

Nice Day (For A White Wedding) by acchikocchi (2011)

Leo's the one eloping with Cristiano Ronaldo, so why is it up to Cesc to make sure nothing goes wrong? And what kind of elopement has an afterparty, anyway?

Words: 7681, rating: general, about: crack fic, humor, weddings, love

Tactical Decoy by acchikocchi (2014)

"Don't worry," Gerard said. "If he stands you up I'll kill him."

Words; 631, status, rating: general, about: humor, friendship, first dates

like sparklers on guy fawkes night by arachnestomb (2015)

No one knows exactly how it works, but when you meet your soulmate, you glow. Leo’s seen it happen in front of him. When he was a kid, he saw two people crash into each other--literally, crash--and then they went up in lights. He thought for a second her chest might burst open like a firework, that’s how bright it was. He was only four years old, but it was beautiful. He dreamed that it’d happen to him someday.

Cristiano’s never actually seen two soulmates glow. He saw a recreation of it some animator created for the sake of education. He saw someone compare the sparklers he lit on Guy Fawkes’ Night to the lights of two soulmates coming together. He doesn’t understand what’s so cool about it, honestly, and if it’s going to happen he only hopes it isn’t someone he hates.

Words: 2880, rating: teen and up, about: soulmates

A Sort of Idea by awkwardsorta (2012)

Because: I get bored at work; Cesc takes a lot of attention from some of Messi's best looking-after people; Ronaldo can totally spot an isolated star; and Kaka's just nice.

Words: 1322, rating: general, about: picnics, friendship

The Ice Bucket Challenge by bethepuck (2014)

Cristiano Ronaldo is nominated to complete the ice bucket challenge and nominates none other than Lionel Messi to do the same.

Words: 4244, rating: not rated (prob explicit), about: smut, top Cris

O Leãozinho by bethepuck (2014)

Lionel Messi, unexpectedly, is traded to Real Madrid, for vague reasonings and is forced to leave his home, adjust to a new team, and face his greatest rival.

Words: 44468, rating: not rated (prob mature), about: transfers, Messi to Madrid, teammates, smut, top Cris, love

We Could Be "A Thing" by bethepuck (2015)

Lionel Messi transfers high schools from Bishop Stamford to Illyria Prep and receives some, at first, unwanted attention as the wealthy and popular Cristiano Ronaldo does anything to get Leo into bed.

Words: 27487, rating: not rated (prob mature), about: high school au, rivalry, smut, top Cris, love

Like A Hurricane by carolinka (2015)

I am just a dreamer, but you are just a dream, 

You could have been anyone to me.

(Apparently students in Madrid and Barcelona need to bond. Via internet.)

Words: 31852, rating: mature, about: epistolary, humor, high school au, love

See you through by couldvelovedyou (2015)

Cristiano gets injured in the Clásico and is out for the rest of the season. Leo helps him through.

Words: 5040, rating: teen and up, about: injuries, friendship

Wake Up Calls by detodores (chasingnukes) (2016)

kink meme prompt:

"Cristiano wakes up one morning and rolls over to see Leo still naked next to him from the sex they had the night before. Leo is still sleeping but Cristiano is getting so horny seeing him laying on his stomach, his ass totally exposed that he can't help himself. Cristiano starts rimming a still sleeping Leo. Leo eventually wakes up at the feeling and then they decide to do it again."

Words: 1409, rating: explicit, about: smut, top Cris

but if you want me by dizzydancing (2016)

Cristiano walks away (again) because he needs to regain a sense of control. He needs to regain the fragments of sanity and restraint that seem to slip away whenever he loses himself to the sensation of Leo’s soft lips under his.

Leo doesn't follow. He never does. Cristiano should be used to it, but his heart still sinks every time.

Words: 8394, rating: teen and up, about: friendship, relationships, friends with benefits, rivalry, love

one is the loneliest number by Flywoman (2012)

Sometimes no one understands you like your greatest rival. Set immediately after Portugal's elimination from the 2010 World Cup.

Words: 3030, rating: mature, about: WC 2010, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, hurt/comfort, smut, sex, top Cris 

no is the saddest experience by Flywoman (2014)

Lionel Messi visits Cristiano Ronaldo after Portugal fail to make it out of the group stage at World Cup 2014. A sort of sequel to one is the loneliest number.

Words: 1805, rating: mature, about WC 2014, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, hurt/comfort, smut 

it's just no good anymore by Flywoman (2015)

His countrymen have never loved him, but his greatest rival just might. A sequel to one is the loneliest number and no is the saddest experience, but all you really need to know is that this is not a first-time fic.

Warning for rough (consensual) sex.

Words: 3548, rating: mature, about: CA 2015, Argentina Nt, hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, smut, top Cris 

Coming Out by footielover (2015)

Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi have been quietly dating for a few months. Then a paparazzo takes some rather intimate pictures of them and all hell breaks loose.

Words: 61599, rating: explicit, about: relationships, friendship, family, smut, coming out, top Leo

Don't fall in love with a superhero by Guessmysoul (2017)

Cristiano Ronaldo, a handsome, intelligent and a charismatic young man could have any man he pleased; except, his attention was consume by a little shy boy with a surprising intelligence, and Spider-Man his saviour in moments of distress. Why did he had to fell for both and not being corresponded?

Words: 10991, rating: teen and up, about: friendship, love, superhero au

everything will fill with light by haroldslouis (2015)

The one where Cristiano falls in love with his son's nanny, Leo, and Sergio Ramos is there because he signed up for the drama.

Words: 27135, rating: mature, about: nanny au, kid fic, love, smut, top Cris

rains, pours (i'll be there for you) by highways (2014)

Winning isn't constant, but maybe something, someone, always is. (post Copa del Rey final, 2014)

Words: 1352, rating: not rated (prob teen and up), about: CdR 2014, love

the boiling point by highways (2014)

Leo's always preferred boys, but he's never had a type until stepping into high school, never really cared for what kind of boy he liked until he suddenly did, wanted to be fucked in the locker rooms by the basketball captain, face pressed against the sting of the cold metal doors, back arching and moulding to the flit of someone's fingers down his spine.

aka, the one where Cristiano's the MVP basketball captain and Leo is essentially a nobody.

Words: 12471, rating: mature, about: high school au, basketball au, relationships, bullying, smut, top Cris, love

Sweethearts: Alfajores by keep_it_fresh

Non-canon. AU-ish. Tween-fic. Middle School (12/13). It takes a team for Lio to not only realize he has a crush but also to snag to his guy.

[Cressi Week 2017: Day 1 - First Times]

Words: 2297, rating: general, about: middle school au, first crush, teen love

Sweethearts: Milk Bones by keep_it_fresh (2017)

Non-canon/AU-ish. Cris wakes up to find an unexpected visitor trapped in his backyard.

[Cressi Week 2017: Day 2 - Identity]

Words: 3513, rating: teen and up, about: shapeshifter au, animals, relationships, love

A Supernatural Love (Cause Love is What You Want) by kkslover9 (2016)

The one where Cristiano and Lionel are dukes vying for the attention of a princess but Cristiano ends up cursed to love his rival instead.

Words: 6056, rating: teen and up, about: magical au, royalty au, fairy tale, love

Let Me Drive You Down the Love Street by kkslover9 (2017)

Cristiano is as surprised as anyone when he ends up on the same team as Lionel Messi. It's not the challenge he's used to but he's ready for it, to take Major League Soccer by storm with a new team and a new partnership.

Words: 20187, rating: explicit, about: MLS, teammates, friendship, slow burn, love, sex, no clear top

I Won’t Bite (Unless That’s What You Like) by kkslover9 (2017)

"Leo licks his lips. He wants it so badly, to sink his fangs into Cristiano’s neck and drink from him and Cristiano knows it."

Words: 6065, rating: explicit, about: vampire au, semi-prostitution, blood, smut, top Cris

You Got to Know (That Everyone Falls) by kkslover9 (2017)

Everyone is born with a soul mark but not everyone gets to keep it. It's been two years since Leo's soul mark burned itself off the inside of his left wrist. With encouragement from his mother and his best friend, Kun, he starts attending a support group for those who have lost their soul marks. Here he meets the confident and charismatic Cristiano who has been without a soul mark since birth. As they become closer, Leo realises that Cristiano has insecurities of his own. Can they overcome their vulnerabilities or will their doubts break them once and for all?

Words: 10840, rating: teen and up, about: soulmate au, soulmarks, loss, relationships, sex, love

you smiled and then the spell was cast by kkslover9 (2018)

Cristiano was Leo's first kiss and first boyfriend but then he moved away. Now nine years later, he's back and Leo finds himself drawn to his childhood friend once more.

Words: 24935, rating: explicit, about: New York au, ex-boyfriends, relationships, crushes, childhood friends

Best Player by LeoDios (2015)

Cristiano grudgingly goes to the UEFA Best Player in Europe Award ceremony. He wants to have a drink with Leo Messi, but for that he has to visit him in his hotel suite.

Words: 24781, rating: explicit, about: award shows, lots of smut, top Cris, love, injuries, relationships

Who is he? by LeoDios (2015)

Wow. Just wow.

This isn't the first time someone cornered him and told him he just had to watch this incredible video of Leo Messi. It is pretty annoying any time it happens.

This time it's Sergio, grinning and practically jumping up and down like a kid at a birthday party all hopped up on cake.

This isn't just any video though. He can feel Sergio's eyes on him, drinking in his reaction gleefully. Cris feels his face going hot, red hot.

Words: 4279, rating: not rated (prob explicit), about: smut, top Leo

In the Wake of Loss by luxover (2012)

Leo opens the door and Cristiano is standing there, leaning against the doorjamb like he does it all the time, like it’s normal for him to just swing by. Leo’s confused; he doesn’t even know Cristiano, not really, not in the ways that count, and certainly not enough for them to hang out.

Words: 7706, rating: mature, smut, rivalry, relationships, humor, love

Day 1: Firsts by MADR1D1SMO (2017)

Leo goes through the text slowly. He can recognise some of the pictures - the famous photo of them standing together in their countries’ colours before the international in Switzerland, the ones from the Ballon d’Or Gala.

There are a lot of firsts.

It doesn’t have the most important firsts, though, he thinks.

Words: 5028, rating: general, about: first meetings, rivalry, friendship, humor

Day 2: Identity by MADR1D1SMO (2017)

After taking a hard blow to the head during a game against Espanyol, Leo wakes up with amnesia. The person who helps him remember is the least one anybody could expect it to be.

Words: 13484, rating: general, about: amnesia, injuries, teammates, friendship, possible love

Day 3: Other Worlds by MADR1D1SMO

There’s a world where Cris plays for Madrid and Leo for Barça, the one we all know and love. There’s also another world, where CR7 and D10S are the deadliest duo in football history playing for the best club in the world. What happens if one day, the two of them switch places?

Words: 15341, rating: general, about: parallel universe au, injuries, teammates, friendship, possible love

Day 5: Time by MADR1D1SMO (2017)

During a Clásico match Leo gets a severe career-ending injury after which he would never be able to play again. Cristiano doesn’t realise how much competition is important for him until it’s gone. He gets one chance to go back in time and try to prevent the injury, but will Leo believe him when he tries to warn him?

Words: 11619, rating: general, about: time travel au, injuries, award shows, teammates, friendship, possible love

nice for what by nahco3 (2018)

 “Who are you and how did you get this number?” Ronaldo says, instead of a greeting.

“It’s me,” Leo says, momentarily taken aback. He hasn’t had to introduce himself for years. 

“Um, Leo Messi.”

“You know, if this is a prank call, it isn’t very original,” Ronaldo says.

Words: 4006, rating: explicit, about: WC 2018, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, angst, hurt/comfort, smut

the best you ever had by nahco3 (2011)

five times Leo Messi surprised Cristiano Ronaldo.

Words: 2044, rating: teen and up, about: award shows, humor, transfers, sex

Okay? Okay. Okay... by Nina22783 (2014)

It's been nearly four years since Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo have been together and a BBC journalist finally gets them both to tell the world how it all happened...

Words: 24469, rating: mature, about: WC 2014, coming out, kid fic, injuries, smut, top Cris, family, relationships, friendship, WC 2018 au

Flesh by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

"I was wondering where you were hiding", Ronaldo said, voice getting on Leo's every nerve as the man invaded his personal space. There was a lot of that on the pitch but Leo felt uncomfortable now, dressed in his suit with his hip pressed against the counter. "I'm not hiding", Leo bit back, doing his best to retain his monotone but ultimately failing. He could tell by the way Ronaldo's lips curved and he confidently stepped even closer.

Words: 5735, rating: explicit, about: award shows, smut, top Cris, dub con, hotels 

I Think We Made A Sex Tape? by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

The prequel.

Words: 3998, rating: explicit, about: smut, sex tapes, drunk sex, rough sex, top Cris

If This Were A Movie by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

"How about you text him to explain then?", Leo asked, stifling a yawn in his hand. "I haven't text him since like... May", Higuain whined, reminding Leo that he captained a bunch of overgrown children. "How about you give him my number and I send him a text then?", Leo prompted, shocked and annoyed by his own proposal.

Words: 16222, rating: teen and up, about: injuries, friendship, hurt/comfort, fluff

Playing With Fire by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

"You're whatever I want you to be", Leo replied easily, "and it's sir".

Words: 38495, rating: explicit, about: bodyguard au, guns, violence, powerstruggle, dub con, smut, ust, top Cris

The Re-Enactment by orphan_account (AM) (2016)

The sequel.

Words: 6360, rating: explicit, about: smut, sex tapes, top Cris

Your Summer Dream by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

Cris had watched and wondered, wondered what it'd be like to touch all the soft unmarred skin, to feel Leo's muscles around his fingertips. Then he'd had to adjust his shorts and remind himself that having a boner in public would probably drawn him even more attention.

Words: 4068, rating: mature, about: vacation, smut

It gets lonely at the top by postmodernsleaze (2014)

Portugal is on the verge of being eliminated from the World Cup, and Cristiano Ronaldo's injury is progressively getting worse. Not knowing how to deal with any of it, he turns to perhaps the most unlikely person imaginable.

Words 7362, rating: explicit, about: WC 2014, hurt/comfort, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, friendship, humor, smut

A Pitch Invader Attack, Messi/Ronaldo by prompt_fills (2015)

During an El Clásico match a crazy fan manages to get onto the pitch just when Cristiano and Messi are arguing over a foul. Things go sappier from there.

Words: 5657, rating: teen and up, about: violence, hurt/comfort, hospitals, PTSD, kissing

Home Is Freedom by prompt_fills (2017)

The Deaemon!AU

Sometimes it’s not the humans who make the first move.

All humans have deamons but no one has ever seen Cristiano’s daemon. Leo isn’t so quick to jump to conclusions because his own deamon is currently missing.

Words: 4574, rating: general, about: deamon au, animals, soulmates, injuries

Cris/Leo, two Leos from different universes swap places by prompt_fills (2016)

There is a reality in which Leo and Ronaldo aren’t together yet but there is also another reality in which Cris and Leo are together.

This is a story for an anon who wanted to know what happens when one Leo switches places with the other Leo.

Words: 6633, rating: teen and up, about: parallel universe au, humor, kid fic,  kissing

Ronaldo/Messi, exchanging jersey by prompt_fills (2015)

Written for footballkink2, PP5, for this prompt: How about during one El Clasico in the new season Ronaldo came over and asked for Messi's jersey? Messi was a bit shocked but still complied. Maybe later media made a big deal out of it and the rumor of Ronaldo preparing to leave La Liga next season starts spreading. Messi realized he doesn't want to see Ronaldo leaving, he wants Ronaldo to always be his best enemy. And their relationship takes the next step from there?

Words: 1771, rating: teen and up, about: humor, fluff, transfers, friendship, possible love

D10S by pseuicide (2015)

Cristiano was sunning himself in front of one of the castle's enormous windows when he felt a hand on his arm. "The king requires your presence in his bedchamber tonight," the guard said. Cristiano resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The king required his presence just about every night.

"As His Grace desires."

Words: 17309, rating: explicit, about: harem au, royalty au, concubines, dub con, power struggles, smut, top Leo, friendship, love

Studio Galáctico by pseuicide (2015)

Cristiano's first instinct was to laugh.

The guy was tiny, easily a head shorter than him, with slender limbs and pale, tattooed skin. He was cute, with his big brown eyes and dimpled chin, but nothing about him really screamed 'top.' He had a sleeve of tattoos down one arm and to Cris it looked like a little boy playing at being a badass. Cristiano wondered where they found this guy and why they thought he was going to be able to convincingly top him.

Words: 5333, rating: explicit, about: porn star au, sex tapes, porn, smut, top Leo

I Bet There's One Thing I'm Better At by sdmadridista (2015)

After Ronaldo wins the Ballon d'Or for the second year in a row, Messi needs to prove he's better at something.

Words: 967, rating: mature, about: award shows, smut

All Gone (Well Done) by slappedq (2016)

He does the best he can at the moment; he pretends.

Spreads his hands at the referee and pretends that it was an accident.

Blanks his face (because he can't steel his pounding heart) and pretends that doesn't want to punch the snarling Alves in front of him.

Pretends that he is endlessly frustrated by the loss, not the overwhelming urge to push Leo back on the ground.

Pretends that he doesn't want to hear Leo to gasp like that again.

Words: 10926, rating: explicit, about: njuries, friendship, award shows, dub con, smut, top Cris, relationships, love, coming out

Regret, Remorse; Hold On - I Got To Go by slappedq (2016)

It’s extremely hard to just walk away from Leo when he is like this. Eyes bright with hunger and body tense with need, wound tight like a string; waiting for Cristiano to break him apart.

Words: 5538, rating: explicit, about: relationships, smut, love, rough sex, top Cris

four times leo messi surprised cristiano and one time he didn't by stickmarionette (2015)

As long as he lives, Cristiano will never forget that horrible screech. It tears through him in the seconds before the landing ships take over the horizon and echoes between his ears for the entire week after that, getting louder every time he closes his eyes.

Cristiano Ronaldo and Leo Messi have to team up to save the planet.

Words: 12780, rating: general, about: friendship, teammates, alien au

We're Going to Fight by stillgold (2018)

Ronaldo and Messi have hated each other for as long as they can remember. But then one day, Cris sees something that changes everything. It’s easier than Cris imagines to start to like Messi, easier than anything and more frightening.

Words: 5245, rating: explicit, about: award shows, CA 2016, WC 2018, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, rivalry, smut, top Cris

Text Me by tenshi_who (2013)

In which Leo tries to stay annoyed at Cristiano. He really does. But the other man is way too charming, and his lips are too distracting.

Or, The One Where Leo and Cris Film a Commercial Together and End Up Falling In Love.

Words: 5383, rating; general, about: friendship, fluff, love, smut

Remember the Best Times Are Yet To Come by Velocity_Owl87 (2014)

Leo Messi has heard it all: He was too small, he was too quiet, he was too different. He didn't give a damn and did what he wanted to do and was damned good at it. He didn't care that he wasn't what an Alpha was supposed to be.

Hell, he wasn't even worried about finding an Omega.

The game was all that mattered.

Cristiano Ronaldo was too focused on making it against the odds. His goals were clear and none of them involved getting mated and settling down. A feat that was made easier by his not being a typical Omega.

Then Cesc Fabregas's party occurred and now Messi and Ronaldo are bonded and mated and have to deal with the aftermath of that meeting and all it brought with it.

Words: 39094, rating: mature, about: a/b/o au, mpreg au, relationships, kid fic, smut, top Cris

The disease by yulin (2016)

There's a weird disease going around. When you touch a fertile man, you have a sort of shock, like static electricity. Then, in a few days, you either have sex with that man or you die. Leo catches the disease, and Cristiano has to take care of him. 

Words: 6568, rating: explicit, about: fuck or die au, dub con, friendship, smut, top Cris

#fic #cressi #football rpf #cristessi #crismessi #fic rec #lionaldo #football fandom #football fanfiction #lionel messi #cristiano ronaldo #argentina nt #portugal nt #real madrid #fc barcelona

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice CH5 PT 4

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 8 of the game!! Words have been taken directly from Stage 8-14 and 8-21 of the game as well! If you’re interested in which ones, message me and I can tell you! (I don’t want to spoil anything in the chapter :P)

Also! There are some harsh themes! Such as ptsd, amnesia, feelings of being trapped, actually being trapped! 

Along with all that though, we have adventure! Fluffy time with Kiro! Some angsty time with Kiro! (only like a line of it tho. You’ll get wAY more of that next week ;P) Plot uncovering! and more! Including cliffhangers galore!... ok there is only one but still!! :D

(Chapter Five (Kiro and Youran) Prologue and part one, two, and three can be found here~)

((Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D))

Chapter Five:

Part four:

As Kiro and I continued down the hall, I kept my defenses up high. Kiro almost got killed because of me. I wasn’t going to let it happen again. Especially if it was me that Montu was after, I couldn’t let Kiro get mixed up in it. Although, as I walked down that hall, I couldn’t help but admire the work that Montu had put into destroying me. From the lights to the dark metallic sheen of the walls, everything looked particularly upscale. If we were under any other circumstance, I would feel honored to have so much money spent on me. 

We had walked for a good amount of time before either of us spoke up. “So!” Kiro snapped and clapped his hand on his fist, “When are you taking off the helmet?”

“Never.” I deadpanned.

“Oh come on! Please?”

“Nope.”

“Well what if I guess who you are? Would you take it off then?”

I felt my palms start sweating.  “How could you guess? I came to the studio when you were on stage. You haven’t met me yet.”

“Hm, I guess you’re right.” Kiro paused for a moment, “... Then how about we play 20 questions! Ya, know, so I can get to know you better?” 

“Um…”  I bit my lip. I guess there was no way I could keep stuff from my Song Bird now. 

I sighed, “Sure. Why not?”

“Awesome!” I heard Kiro excitedly clap from next to me, “Ok, uh,... What do you like to do for fun?”

“... Joyride on my bike.” Even though Victor took that from me...

“Makes sense! Do you have any siblings?”

“Two brothers and two sisters.”

“Names?”

“Nope. Too personal.”

“Ah, dang.” Kiro laughed, “I thought I had you there. Uh, what do you do for a living?”

I paused, “...I help the police with consulting investigations.” 

“Really??” Kiro giddily asked, “What kind of investigations??”

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Ah, I see... So, what is your job at Ike ‘n Bar Productions?”

“... I assist Bart.”

“Like his personal assistant, assistant?”

“Sure.”

“I can’t imagine you being a personal assistant.” Kiro scoffed.

I stopped and turned to look at Kiro with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Kiro waved his hands defensively, “I mean-” The floor underneath us lit up. The same blue light that outlined Kiro's hand, outlined a square around my feet. The ground underneath me started shaking, making the both of us lose our balance. The light got brighter and brighter as the ground became more and more unstable. I closed my eyes and threw my hands in front of my face.

“What the hell?!” I yelled, still struggling to find my feet.

“Ike!” Kiro’s voice was coming from above me. I looked up and saw that the ground Kiro was on had started rising while I was descending. He reached his hand out to mine, “Give me your hand!” I stood on my tippy toes and reached for his hand, but I couldn’t quite close the distance. The gap between us slowly grew.

“Almost…” Kiro muttered, “Just a bit more.” He leaned forward as much as he could. Eyes brimming with concern and urgency. (Stage 8-14) I looked below me. 

“Ah, screw it.” I stepped back, “Brace yourself!” I called to Kiro. The ground stopped shaking. I took a step and leaped into the air. Kiro’s hand wrapped around my forearm and held tight as I slammed right into the side of the wall, breaking the strap to the helmet on my head and causing it to fly off of me. I looked down to see the helmet plummet down the endless chasm below me. I quickly turned to look up at Kiro.

“Don’t. Let. Go.” I spoke through my teeth as I tightened my grip on his forearm.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Kiro grinned through a pained expression. Kiro and I worked with each other to pull myself out of the hole. I took a step onto the rising wall, then a strong force pulled me upwards. I landed onto the ground and right into Kiro’s chest, where I could hear Kiro’s rapid breathing in my ear. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently, “Are you hurt?” I looked up and into Kiro’s starry eyes. The eyes that were such a beautiful ocean blue, I could almost swim in them from how close I was to him.

“Kiro.” I breathed, leaning closer to his face.

“Yeah?” Kiro said just as softly, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. I leaned in closer, further increasing the blush on Kiro’s cheeks. We were mere inches apart when I punched his arm. 

“Ow!” He scoffed, rubbing his arm, “Why did you-”

“You jerk!” I hit him again, “You knew it was me the whole time?!”

“Wh-”

“You called me ‘Ike’ just then! Don’t you dare try to get out of this!”

Kiro paused, then he laughed, “Of course I knew it was you Super Stranger! I knew it the moment you yelled at that poor director!”

“And yet you still asked me that stupid question?!” Each syllable ended with a hit to his chest, “You made me think you hated me!” Kiro grabbed my hands.

“Would you quit it?!” He laughed. I glared at him. His smile gradually fell. “I thought we were still playing our little game… which I guess wouldn’t have been so fun from how bad of a mood you were in.” Kiro looked me sincerely in the eyes, “Ike, I’m really sorry if I hurt your feelings. I really didn’t mean it. Please don’t be mad at me.” I huffed, struggling to find an excuse to keep my anger towards him. Then I sighed. I backed away from Kiro and sat on the ground. Kiro sat up, the worried expression he wore further deepening. He opened his mouth.

“I’m not angry at you.” I interrupted, holding up a hand, “We’re cool.”

“Thank goodness.” Kiro sighed heavily, “I don’t know what I’d do if The Super Stranger hated me.”

“Haven’t I already said no one can hate Kiro?” I arched my eyebrow, “Besides, you’re my sidekick. What was I going to do? Wait for your redemption arch?” Kiro laughed heartily, bringing a warm feeling to my heart. I looked down and the warm feeling vanished. Blood dripped down his forearm. Kiro followed my eyes and looked down.

“Oops!” He held his arm up to reveal a cut running down his forearm, “I must have cut it when I caught you.” Kiro smiled at me, “We need to find a better way of saving each other. One of us keeps getting hurt!” I glared at Kiro and took his arm. 

“Yeah, but I don’t have anything to patch you up with.” I mumbled, looking around the small room. 

“Wait! You do!” Kiro reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small white handkerchief. He handed it to me, “The one you had given me the day we had met was stained. So I got you another one! Too bad this one will be stained too.” I took the handkerchief and dressed Kiro’s wound.

“I don’t care about a handkerchief.” I said, “Just as long as you’re healthy.” I could feel Kiro’s stare bore a hole in my eyes but I didn’t dare meet them, keeping my focus on the handkerchief.

“Thank you, Ike.” His voice was so soft that I nearly missed his words. I looked up at him.

The floor we had been riding passed through a dark room then to an opening to a new room. This one was much bigger than the last, looking to be about the size of a basketball court. It was windowless and had the same dark metallic panelling and blue lighting as the previous hallway. 

Kiro and I stood up and looked around the room. The room was seemingly empty except for a long, dark, metallic door standing on the far wall. I nudged Kiro and walked over to it. There was another keypad beside the door but this time it had a QWERTY keyboard.

“What do you think it could be?” Asked Kiro. I hummed and drummed my fingers on my arm. 

“Well, with the last one, I put in a random code to see how many numbers were needed for the code. Maybe we could start there?” I bent down and started typing in random letters. The keyboard stopped typing after four letters then flashed red. A grinding noise came from behind us. Kiro and I turned and saw a panel from the floor slowly opening. The sound of metallic buzzing filled the air as drones flew out one by one from the hole. They formed a line in the air and flashed red lasers right towards us. Their laser zeroed in, pointing directly at my forehead. 

“Watch out!” Kiro lunged at me just in time for the drones to start shooting. The bullets whizzed over us to the control panel for the room, completely destroying it. A loud click came from the door as it swung open. The drones stopped shooting as their lasers came back on to look for their target.

“Go!” I shoved Kiro off of me and to the door, “I’ll distract them!”

“Are you nuts?” Kiro scoffed, “You’ll be-”

“They are after me, not you!” I looked up just in time for the drones to spot me with their lights again, “Go! I’ll follow!” I pushed off of the ground just as the drones started firing again. But, instead of stopping this time, the drones followed my movements. Keeping close to my tail as I ran around the room to lose them. I looked back and caught a glimpse of Kiro running into the room. Satisfied with the fact that he was safe, I started looking around the room for a way out of the predicament I was in. I spotted the opening on the floor.

An idea in mind, I made my way to it. The bullets rained relentlessly around me as I slid to the flooring. I grabbed an edge from the paneling and pulled it up. From the force of my Evol, I was able to peel it away easily, holding it in front of my face and blocking the bullets as they pelted the paneling. The bullets stopped and red lights lit up the ground around me. Taking advantage of the pause. I quickly bent the panel in my hand into an arch and threw it at the drones. The panel flew in a curve, crashing into the drones in their perfect line.

More drones came from the flooring. With no time to waste, I booked it to the door. Kiro stood there with an outstretched hand. I took it and, with help from his pull, I flew into the room. Kiro raced to the door and shut it. I ran over to it as well, offering extra support. 

We waited for what seemed like forever for any sign that the drones would come back. Eventually, Kiro sighed. “I think… we’re good.” He said, a hint of uncertainty playing at his tongue. I let go of the breath I was unaware that I was holding and panted heavily, falling to my knees and resting my head on the door. Kiro slid down next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asked urgently, “Are you hurt?” I shook my head, answering both of the questions honestly. Kiro sighed and removed his hand. “Man.” He laughed, “They’ve got some weak defenses if that flimsy flooring could take them down.”

“Right.” I sighed, turning to sit next to Kiro. I looked around the dark room. It was nothing like the others. It was an average size, the walls and floor a dark grey, making the room seem dreary and uninviting. The carpet under us was hard, likely flattened after years of being walked on. At the back of the room was a metal desk with a keyboard and mouse. Six flat screen monitors hung from the wall and pointed to the singular wheely chair that sat in front of them. A computer sat under the desk, buzzing slightly.

I groaned as I slowly stood up. Kiro grabbed my arm quickly. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” He whispered to me. I looked over to the computer.

“I’m sure we could take it.” I winked at Kiro. He smiled slightly but still kept a firm hold of my arm. I motioned for him to stand up. He did so, sliding his hand down into mine, stopping my heart in the process. I looked up at Kiro. 

His focus was locked on the computer. He had a strange look in his eyes. As if he had some idea what the computer might hold. But that would be impossible. Unless Kiro knew Montu in some way…

I shook my head. No. He couldn't. Kiro's life was just as at risk here as mine. 

Kiro’s eyes finally fell from the computer and onto me, catching my eyes in his. “Everything ok?” He asked, tightening his grip around my hand. I slowly nodded, turning from him and looking at the computer. 

“Let’s get a closer look.” I walked to the computer, releasing my hand from Kiro's to take the lead. Kiro stalled a moment but eventually joined my side. 

I inspected the monitors. Nothing seems off about them. I looked down at the desk.  A keyboard and mouse sat in the middle of it. I tapped the enter key. The screen in the middle of the six turned on. Another password needed to be typed in. “Ok, we get it.” I groaned, “You’re hiding something. Can we just get on with this stupid gambit?” I moved the keyboard to me. Kiro moved the keyboard back before I could start typing. 

“I don’t think we should just type something willy nilly into the computer.” He said seriously, “This isn’t the same as the others. If we don’t do this carefully, we’ll get kicked out.”

“That’s very inquisitive of you, Kiro, but what other choice do we have?” I reached my hand out to him, “Do you see a sign or a post-it note in here that tells us the password?”

“But-”

“Kiro, the only other way out of here is through the killer drones behind that door. If you’d rather deal with them then be my guest.” Without wasting any more time, I moved the keyboard back to me and typed in random letters. The screen went black again. I braced myself… but nothing happened.

“Did I really guess it right the first-” My words were cut off by a loud siren. The screen glowed red as bright red text flashed on the screen.

“System Wipe commencing in 3:00”

The time started counting down from three minutes. I cursed and tried hitting the escape button. Then, when that didn’t work, every other button on the keyboard. In a flash, Kiro whipped the keyboard from me and took a seat in the chair. He pulled something from his vest pocket and bent down to the computer. When he sat back up he was holding a phone with a wire connecting it to the computer. I froze. He had a phone all along? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he use it? Why was he using it now…?

Kiro’s phone suddenly filled with small, green text, appearing and disappearing quickly. Kiro tapped at his screen quickly, eyes skimming the screen quickly as he did so. I looked back up at the time on the monitors. 

1:30 

and counting. 

I clenched my teeth and looked down at Kiro, helpless. With nothing else I could do, I placed my hand on Kiro’s shoulder, clenching it tightly, hoping for it to be comforting in some way. 

Soon the time had gotten to 10... 

9...

8...

7...

6...

5...

4...

3...

With one theatrical flourish, Kiro tapped a sting of letters into the keyboard in front of him. Everything went black. Then text appeared across the six monitors.

“Welcome, Key.”

I whipped my head to Kiro. He met my eyes. A look of worry and surprise splayed across his face.

“You’re Key?!” My voice became loud and uneven.

“I can explain.” He said, holding his hands up. I grabbed a bundle of his shirt and lifted him up and off of the chair. I held him close to my face.

“Then you’d better start talking.” I said through my teeth. 

Before he had the chance to talk, the chair under Kiro spun in place. One of the hand rests caught Kiro in the side and pulled him from my grasp. Kiro roughly fell back into the chair as it turned and pointed away from me. The chair extended forward, launching Kiro out of it. He fell to the floor harshly and with a grunt. The chair spun back around. The hand rest hit my knee, making it buckle just enough for it to scoop me into the seat. The chair pushed itself into the desk, locking me in place. I moved to push away but bars shot up from the sides of the handrests, locking my arms down onto it. 

I was stuck.

I cursed and struggled against the straps. “Ike!” Kiro called from beside me. I turned to look just as Kiro reached out to me. The floor rumbled from underneath us. With no warning, walls shot up from each side of me, cutting me completely off from Kiro and the rest of the room. I pulled at the arm rests. The chair seemed so dainty! It was just a casual chair a moment ago! With my evol, I should be able to just bust out of-

The monitors went completely black. 

They were soon replaced by more text:

The Black Swan Collective.

I stopped struggling.

We come from the future, with the sole purpose to accelerate Human evolution. We possess Evol. We create all.

I hitched my breath. A group of Evolvers? Here? What were they planning? What did it have to do with me?

No one can stop us, for we hold the world in our hands. The Queen will soon awake. As will her Rook.

A strange feeling overcame my chest. What does that mean? I didn’t know a queen or a black swan collective… then why did I feel so strangely at that statement? Why did it almost seem… familiar?

Together, they will reform this world into one that will be worthy of our existence.

We look forward to marching together into a new world.

Pictures began to flash on the screen, one after another, the scenes depicted all not quite clear. A sealed room with no light, an empty experiment table with several beakers of chemical compounds next to it. A wall full of cabinets. People in white gathering under a surgical lamp.

I heard blood rushing to my temples. I struggled to find composure, something to pull me back into reality, But I couldn’t. My mind was focused solely on the pictures on the screens as more pictures overwhelmed my senses. One picture made my breath hitch.

There, on an experiment table, lying peacefully, was a familiar looking brown haired girl. 

The next picture came on the screen. The girl was lying next to a boy. One with bright blonde hair and a dazzling aura. Another picture came. This time that small brown haired girl was in a room, sitting on a bed next to another girl. The other girl’s hair was also brown but her hair was different. It was bushy and a mess of rats and tangles. And her eyes were a bright blue. They shone as she spoke to the little girl next to her. They were holding hands. 

My own hands started shaking.

The next picture showed a lab but things had gone awry. Tables were flipped and broken glass scattered the floor. Strange substances laced through the floor tiles and coated the bushy haired little girl as she stood in the corner of the room. She was protectively standing over the first girl, who was curled in a ball against the corner. The bushy haired girl’s eyes showed no fear as she protected the girl. Not only that, 

but they were now crimson red.

My hands shook even harder as hidden memories came crashing to my senses. Sounds of glass smashing, people yelling, sirens going off, and screaming.

The next picture made all of the sounds disappear. Men in lab coats were separating the girls. The little brown haired girl was protectively blocked by the men while several men struggled to hold down the bushy brown haired girl. Her mouth was open as if she was screaming as tears streamed down her face. 

My hands stopped shaking.

Don’t take her away, I found myself thinking, She’s hurting. Leave her alone! She doesn’t want to be hurt any more! I told her I would protect her! I promised I would! Get away from-

Unable to take the noise in my head any longer, I screamed. A power like I had felt only once before flooded my body. I closed my eyes, finally regaining my composure and remembering the state I was in.

 I was trapped.

 I needed to move.

 Now! 

With my new found power, I ripped my arms from the restraints. Bands snapped at my strength, clanking to the floor loudly.  I stood up and threw the chair aside. Avoiding any more eye contact with the pictures, I raised my fist and threw it into the monitors. Electricity sparked from them with every hit I threw. I didn’t stop until the only thing that was left was rubble. I panted heavily, looking down at the mess I had just made. My eyes skimmed over the computer under the table. I picked it up. Without hesitation. I crushed it between my hands, letting sparks fly and enjoying the screams it gave off. They can’t hurt her anymore. They won’t hurt her again. 

I won't let them.

(Next)

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