#I did not fall in love with him until the flesh. which ik is so so late but ohh idk why those eps opened my eyes to him but they didddd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 3 years

Text

End to this and this, first part done by @randomly-a-fan (Ik y’all can see it but I really like to mention how amazing she is) <3

Ready or not, here I come

Pairings: The Voorheese’s family x The Creeper, Malon x The Creeper and most importantly Freddy Krueger x MJ, The Voorheese’s family and The Creeper

Warnings: Violence, gore, angst, description of drowning and some cuteness with The Creeper and Malon <:

this one's shorter

Don't hesitate to tell me if i did any mistakes, it would be greatly appreciated!

“Alright… I’m ready.”

MJ said as she put herself comfortable on the mattress they put in the backyard. They didn’t want to have another broken window, so they took some precautions. It wasn’t windy, so with only a pillow and a small blanket, armed with a small knife, she fell asleep pretty easily once she clicked on the small button of the watch. The timer counted down from 10 minutes as they waited patiently, Malon back to colouring inside since they didn’t want her hurt.

-Dream Realm-

The brave woman looked around as she found herself into the boiler room, sweat starting to make her shirt stick to her back. MJ scanned everywhere as she tried to find him, with no success though. ''SHOW YOURSELF!! '' She screamed out as she did a 360 degree and tried to find any source of movement or indication that he was there. ''Missed me?'' A startled gasp escaped her as she felt his presence behind her. '7 minutes' The woman stepped back as she turned around to look at him, her now scared gaze fixated on his approaching figure. ''I think you better run, little MJ. '' The use of her surname made her panic a bit as she did just what he said, hoping that the 7 minutes would pass quickly and that she wouldn't die. As she was running, the scenery changed to the one of the cabin, which almost made her think she was awake until she didn't see anybody around. Almost knowing the woods by hand, she ran towards an opening, hearing the mocking laughters of the dream demon. Her heart was still racing as she abruptly fell upon... Crystal Lake's lake. She knew by the cabins that there was no mistake. The scenery was now of the lifeless camp and it brought her some bad memories, which she shook off as she waited for Freddy to come at her.

...

...Nothing.

'5 minutes'...

MJ took a big inhale as she waited, her body tense and her eyes wide open. She couldn't wait for this to finally be over and have a nice cuddling session with her husband, not in little pieces.. After another long wait, she started to step towards the water to wait for the demon to show himself. It was probably a really bad idea, but she couldn't stop herself. It was like something was tugging her towards the water, calling out to her. Panic filled her once again as she felt her feet starting to move on their own as soon as she tried to stop walking. Sudden realisation slapped her as she now had the water at her waist. ''Oh, no....... NO-!'' A silent scream left her as soon as she felt a hand on her ankle, dragging her down the depths, her arms falling miserably around the dirty water. The woman's pale eyes were still wide open as she looked down at Freddy's sadistic and burned face. ''.....!!! '' Her lungs started to burn terribly as MJ felt the lake entering them and taking her oxygen.... As a last attempt of protecting the ones she loves, she gripped his non-gloved hand with the last of her strength before she saw black.... The beeping of the watch faintly in the background as she felt the black engulfing her.

Jason immediately took action as soon as he caught glimpse of a thin horizontal line of wetness on his wife's lower lip, turning her body to the side frantically. He couldn't lose her, not ever. He wasn't stupid as to what happened, which didn't help his panicked state. He opened her jaw, the beeping of the watch ignored as he tried to save her life. He couldn't believe that Freddy would really dare to try to kill MJ just because she's with him... But he wouldn't let him win. Knowing what to do Jason started CPR while looking for a pulse as his is racing. After some time, he was finally going to abandon until he heard and saw her regurgitating the almost cleear liquid and her brows furrow. With extremely high hopes and his heart still racing, he turned her to the side and patted her back, a smile under his masked face once he saw colours coming back to her face. ''W-what..... What ha-happened..? '' MJ whispered raspily as she looked up at her unknowingly crying husband. He obviously didn't answer as he hugged her, being mindful of her almost dying on him. The couple were so happy that they failed to hear the noise of metal behind them, until they heard the unmistakable screech of The Creepers as he almost jumped on Freddy who was now in the real world. Their heads whipped to the side as they looked almost shocked at the two creatures fighting, almost not believing they got him out again.

''Oh no-'' Everything came back to MJ as she buried her face into Jason's shoulder, tears staining his new jacket. After the corpse insident (If you haven't read it, the kids found a corpse in the woods and Jason buried it), Jason had gotten another jacket. It looked like his original one, but it was obviously newer. Back to the fight, The Creeper and The Nightmare looked completely exhausted, especially Freddy though. He looked like he was going to die right here, right now(Not like anybody minded) ,his burnt 'skin' bloodied and his clothes ripped. He even missed a freaking arm! For The Creeper, he only had some rips in his clothes and a big slash across his face from Freddy's glove. The creature's gaze was fixed on his prey as he bared his pointy teeth to him, making him step back. As they continued to attack each other, MJ looked down as she couldn't bear to see what would happen, a wince escaping her as she heard Freddy's mocking laughter for the last time before the unmistakable squelching of flesh ripping was heard. She... She just hoped he was really dead this time and that everything would be over... A relieved sigh escaped the woman's mouth once she saw their friend coming back, his appearance back to normal except for the holes in his clothes as he tried to unstuck a piece of flesh from his teeth (hehe). ''Is...Is he dead.....? '' She couldn't help but ask as she wouldn't look in the now corpse's direction. A small nod was all she got as a weight seemed to be lifted from her shouldesr. ''Don't.. Don't you think we should do something with the body? Like, maybe burn it?...To not take any chances...?'' The last part was almost whispered. He looked pensive before he nodded, her husband doing the same as he helped her up.

They wouldn't take any chances of him coming back to life once again. After making sure all his remains were burned, the trio walked back into the cabin with better moods and Jason gave The Creeper a shirt and some pants, the creature thanking him with an appreciative purr. They were pretty happy about the result and just hoped that it was really finished....As soon as Malon saw The Creeper emerging from the bathroom from his clothes, she jumped towards him with a giant smile, forgetting about her mother for a second as a smile came onto his face. It was really something special that he liked Malon, since he wouldn't hesitate to kill a child to feed. But the Voorhees' were happy that Malon had another adult in her life, even if he didn't always act like one.

Food was served once everybody felt like eating and after they relaxed, Malon still playing with her friend in her room. The sky was starting to darken, which meant that it was almost time for Malon to go to sleep. So MJ decided that she would go see what they're doing. ''Mal-''

Her heart melted once she saw the two in the room, Malon in her PJs and tucked under the covers with The Creeper listening to her sleepily ramble about some things. As soon as he heard her, he turned his head with a small grin at the corner of his mouth, smelling the surprise on the woman. ''Huh.... Oh my... Thank you..'' She was speecheless. Still shocked, she smiled softly at the creature as he did the same, getting up the bed before he stopped in the doorway to give MJ a small head pat, which resulted in a chuckle escaping her. They walked to the door as Jason waved in the background. ''Have a good night, Creeper... Thank you so much for everything. '' You could hear the emotion as she was trying not to cry again. Once more, he nodded with another smile before he disappeared into the night with a wink and a content purr.

With a sigh and after closing the door, MJ plopped down beside her husband as they cuddled each other, enjoying the now calm night..

#jason voorheese #jasonvoorhees #randomly a fan #freddy krueger #gore #horror #the creeper #jeepers creepers

5 notes · View notes

oceanivoxjoquainx · 5 years

Text

Let's talk about Eric Effiong

Let's be honest Eric's storyline and characterization is one of the most appealing out of all the characters in Sex Education periodt. A true gay, fierce, Drag QUEEN and I feel like ranting about this amazing force of nature. (Spoilers. Duh.)

When I saw the trailer for Sex Education it didnt even hit me that Eric was gay until I read the synopsis. Was just like "Oh I wonder which one of these three mains are the gay one people keep talking about" even after I saw him in drag like a dumbass 😣😂. Personally im glad we've reached a point where gay guys aren't overly feminine and even the brightest colours won't differ a character from the rest (unless I'm just a blind bish and he was obviously gay from the trailer) ei 👏🏾 ther 👏🏾 way; his character was refreshing when I started watching the show. I immediately clicked with him and knew what every look he gave or hand gesture he did meant. Felt nice. When Adam pushed him into the locker for the first time and started with the heterohomoerotic bs I knew that Adam had a raging boner for Eric and was another internalized homophobic bully™ and wasn't really excited for what was to come but I knew it was coming and tbh I liked it in the end.

Eric and Otis' friendship is so pure. Like?!? Get me a straight supportive bestie lilke Otis? Ik they fought but even then Otis was respectful and kept his boundaries and let Eric go through the motions before immediately belting into an apology at the first chance he got. Their dancing scene?!? Iconic. The fact that Eric sees Otis' house as safe and another home?!? Iconic. Otis going drag with Eric to watch an LGBT+ movie as a TRADITION (meaning they've done it numerous times)?!?! Iconic. The fact that Otis was straight up ditching Eric and Eric STILL tolerated him and let him do his thing without too much pressure!?! The most iconic of them all. Just pure love and respect all around.

I am so proud of Erics growth over the course of the season starting from a naive and scared gay doormat to facing homophia and getting beat up by those assholes on his birthday no less to losing his best friend and becoming depressed to channeling that anger into defending himself when people tried him to getting his sparkle back and coming back more fierce that ever before.

Speaking of him getting his sparkle back lets talk about that and why that scene is so important. A random guy asked Eric for directions and Eric noticed his nails were polished and the guy was wearing earrings and he was a big ole black dude. He was like Eric. When Eric noticed that the guy was out, loud, glamorous and proud he immediately switched back into the bright colourful and wonderfully gay Eric we all know and love.

THIS IS WHY REPRESENTATION MATTERS!!!!

It shows people that its okay to be who they actually are and inspires those who are lost to find or return to their true selves. Representation isn't just some offhand thing to throw on a character last minute. And even if you can relate to other characters who arent like you, it is always an amazing feeling to have a character that IS like you. It turned Eric from a popularity seeking doormat into a hurricane with 6 inch heels who was ready to straight up beat down a bully he's had for 4 years. It even inspired him to go back to church and rejoin a community that he closed off. That's exactly how it feels to have someone successful in the media and your life to look up to. Eric only interacted with that man for a few minutes but those few minutes changed his life for the better. So that's a lovely reminder for all who love to bash representation.

Back tracking to Eric's dull colourless period after the attack and his fight with Otis. It was saddening to see one of the brightest characters go dull and even the school felt it. He turned from a guy who rarely stood up for himself and what he wanted into the sass master he reserved only for his friends. All of his built up anger was released causing him to explode on Mr Hendricks (who is adorable tbh and just trying to do his best) and Anwar (I was proud of that punch you go glenn co co) and he even sounded off on his dad who he's usually passive aggressive to at worst. Just goes to show that the happiest faces can harbor the biggest pains and can snap. Moral of the story? Protect the happy few.

Eric also has a great family. Like that obviously know Erics gay and wears dresses because its all right there in his room which his parents enter at their leisure and while it seems that they're a bit homophobic its revealed that they (Erics dad at least) just wants Eric to be safe as he's already a target for being black and apart of an immigant family. He accepts Eric for who he is and what he does he just doesnt want anyone else to give him shit for it and if that's not one of the sweetest things in this world idek what is. Eric and his dad was probably one of my favorite dynamics in the show and watching his dad slowly fully accept that his son was strong and able to stand for himself he was able to become stronger too. This dynamic is important because I never see any gay black characters have a close relationship with their fathers and it was very heartwarming to watch.

Now onto Erics love life. He has a crush on the highschools other only gay guy Anwar who's the typical mean sassy gay we've all come to expect in highschool dramas. Otis saying that Eric doesnt have to have a crush on the only other openly gay guy at school was such a mood as its commonly shown that any gays in close proximity should get together. When Eric punched him I internally went "Finally!" Because all those jeers were becoming annoying. I'm glad Anwar got to come out to his mum over it though. And straight up told the audience that Eric didn't like feminine guys (alluding to him and Adams eventual clean up scene as of we didn't see it coming already).

Moving on to Adam tho, like I said we all been knew that this

was indeed coming and even though I hate the bully x bullied trope I still ended up liking it and hoping that Adam would change. The building up to that kiss was long awaited from episode 1 straight through to 8 with all the longing looks that Adam kept side glancing Eric with and the face cupping and the growls and the lingering touches. I just kept going sthdjksksbslaldbd when one of those moments happened followed shortly after with disgust because gays falling for their abuser is washed up but then immediately going back to jajaklamabsldkd because im shipping trash so 🤷🏿. Eric stepping to Adam in at the ball was one of the most iconic scenes of the show (along with the "Its My Vagina" scene) and the exchange between him and Adam gave be actual chills. The tension was THICCCC. Erics OUTFIT to the ball gave me chills 😭😭 dude came to slay and had everyone at that school proper shook and I honestly could NOT be more proud. I was hoping Adam would become a better person over the course of the season but nope so hopefully they cover all the issues that Adam has in season 2 and properly give him a redeption arc cuz he's still a trashy pos he's just a disaster bi on top of it. (Adam immediately going to suck Eric off is confidence I can only dream of achieving 💀💀) The lab scene was also cute but made me mad because how could Adam look scared, confident and still be a douchebag all in the span of a few seconds was beyond me. A+ acting on Connor Swindells part. I can see why Adam would have to stay in the closet and keep their... relationship?? a secret because it seems like Headmaster Groff would be a homophobic piece of shit and would add to the ever growing list of things Adam did wrong. Even so it doesn't excuse the fact that Adam is in fact a bully and Eric deserves much better. Was sad seeing Adam being driven off from Eric in the end tho. Eric thought that Adam didn't want to see him at all and was probably heartbroken and probably thinks Adam left because of him (my poor baby 😭😭). I feel bad for Adam too because he was just starting to express himself and was at the beginning of a redemption arc when he was just wisked away from the boy he's loved for what seems to be a very long time. I just want my boys to be happy and non toxic and I wish their relationship and them all the best in Season 2.

Eric Effiong is my favorite character in the show and I really want to thank Ncuti Gatwa for portraying him so well and for the shows writers who gave him a very fleshed out character with an amazing storyline and conclusion. His growth was incredible and his strength is immeasurable. I'm 100% certain that he will be a character the community remembers for years to come. Patiently now waiting on what's to come in Season 2 💙🙌🏾.

#eric effiong #ncuti gatwa #adam groff #connor swindells #adam x eric #sex education netflix #sex education #netfix #lgbt representation #lgbt characters #lgbtq

2K notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Note

Okay so ik ur in he middle of writing a series rn but do you think you might ever revisit “the bad guy” & maybe do a part 2 where like another enemy comes along and y/n, e and gray have to maneuver thru it?? I’m sorry if you’ve already answered this but I am so hooked on these characters it’s not even funny. I’ll dead ass be in a lecture thinkin about their love story & the dynamic they had w/eachother. It reminds me sm of daisy & gatsby especially w/the national anthem vibes. Ughh I love it!💕

I love that you still think about them, cause I do too. I honestly had no plans, but I do have something written in case I change my plans.

It's totally unedited and filled with imperfections, but this is how I saw their story evolve next.

If anyone is interested, let me know. 💕

The Bad Guy - preview of a possible part two

He opens his eyes, the darkness around him seemingly moving through the cracks and pushing in. His right arm falls open to the side as he struggles to breathe, blindly reaching out for his nightstand, the top drawer where his inhaler resides. While his right hand struggles to grasp what nature intended to be his cure, his left one taps around the bed for his real remedy - his saving grace.

Finally finding the pump, he takes one puff for the wheezing to stop, allowing his mind to function properly.

His left hand comes up empty, void of what he holds dear and he sits up madly, looking around the room in a daze.

She's not there.

His already wild heart beats fast, letting his hands and feet numb further than when he awoke from his sleep.

But was it all a dream? Was Y/N ever real? If she is, did Mikhail really take her from him?

The questions in his mind drive him up the wall, his arms shaking and legs no longer able to hold him up, so he remains seated. Gripping at his hair, he feels the panic seep in, overtaken with cold sweat and trembling chin.

She must be real. He felt it in his heart. She wasn't just a dream, but her being gone could be more than his imagination.

She's not here.

Had she been there, she'd surely be tucked into his side, her cold feet warming on his calfs or at the very least she'd drape a leg over him.

She's not here.

It's more than panic, paralyzing him. He can't breathe, his lungs are heavy. He feels the air around him, pressing in, overwhelming. He finds his phone, pressing number one on instinct, knowing he had put her in because she's his number one girl. If she is his, she is always his number one dial.

The line goes silent, his mind unable to process the generic response of the caller not being available, eyes widened and a lump forming in his throat.

Wanting to scream, he chuckles because there he is, a man who fears nothing and yet he's absolutely lost in his fear of losing one girl he is no longer sure exists.

Columbia.

"If she's real, that's where she'll be." He whispers to himself, scrambling to his feet without putting on any clothes. Only in his briefs, Grayson runs out of his mansion and sits into his Porsche, driving at illegal speed toward where he might find her.

One of the cops recognize his car, not stopping him. As if he would stop.

Finally on campus, he parks in front of her dorm and rushes out.

Room 23, he thinks, already finding himself before the red door and his heart stumbles on itself when he realizes she must be there. He can't be imagining everything, believing he isn't that creative.

Connecting his fist with the door, he pounds on it impatiently. Until the lock is heard and the door creaks open, her nose and her right eye the only parts of her peaking out.

He sees her eye widen in recognition, the door opening instantly and her worried face meeting his unsteadiness.

"Gray?"

In one move, he grabs her smaller form and presses her into his chest, folding his arms around her. His nose buried in her hair at the top of her head, his hands at her sides, crossed at her back, her arms wrapping around him as well.

"Shhh. It's okay. I'm here." Her voice is muffled by his chest, but the sound of it alone makes his heart calmer and the smell of her hair puts his mind at ease.

She doesn't fight his embrace, for this isn't the first time he came to her room completely out of his mind. Physical touch is what he needs now and not the sexual kind. He needs to feel her, breathe her in and she allows him.

Slowly pushing him in, she kicks the door close and moves him to her bed. She notes the warm, naked back and the muscular built going up and down under her fingertips, realizing he must have had a bad dream. She told him to call her if he needed her, come what may she'd be there. But here he is, in all his glory, trembling like a scared child in her dorm room.

Laying him down, Y/N snuggles into his side, enjoying his strong arms as they push her into him and the way his palms go up and down her skin to assure himself of her existence.

Tenderly, she presses kisses into his chest and neck, reminding him she's with him as she promised to be.

Ever since Mikhail nearly killed both of them, despite the man being dead, Grayson had been restless. They didn't talk much about his gang related work, knowing it upsets both of them as result. But it didn't stop Y/N from insisting Grayson finds help for his nightmares that usually led him to her door at ungodly times and all in his underwear.

Although she insisted living on her own in a dorm, she's become quite aware he needs her with him. She's been splitting her time to the best of her ability between his bed and her own, wanting to permanently give into his requests of her moving in. It's hellish, making a decision between having all she wanted in the accelerated med school programme and having Grayson, what she never thought would be an option.

"You're really here." He mumbles, eyes closed and already drifting off, failing to notice the tears in her eyes as she chooses him above all.

"I am. I always will be."

Once the morning came, Y/N's alarm wakes them both in the most frustrating way possible.

The "I like to move it" song blares, startling them and as big as Grayson is and as small as Y/N's bed is, he nearly dropped Y/N on the floor when he jumped up. Catching her mid fall, pressed against the bed frame with his arms, a scream dies kn her throat and her hands grab at him for support.

"You good?" Grayson chuckles, half thinking how he's too old, too rich for dorm rooms and half thinking how lucky he is to be in her dorm room.

"Think it's time." She grumbles, helping him pull her up into the safety of his chest, draping her leg over his stomach for a better hold.

"For what?" Grayson leaves a kiss atop her head, running his fingers up and down her arm, his ring grazing her skin lightly.

"For me to move back with you." She sighs, enjoying the feathered coldness his ring brings to her warm skin. She's always cold when she sleeps alone, yet sleeping with Grayson, a human volcano, she finds herself burning up.

Grayson's lips part, trying to hold in a confused, but excited gasp. She always makes him feel like a high school girl with a crush, still going through puberty: senselessly blind and constantly confused, wanting to gush about his feeling for her and write poems even if he's not particularly good at it.

"Didn't you say it would take you forever to get here and it would affect your grades?" Grayson asks, still holding in his true feelings. He respects how hard she works, her ambition and drive endlessly, even admires her for it, but he also wishes she'd just be with him...all the time. God knows he had more money than he can spend in seven lifetimes, she need not work a single day of her life, yet he knows how important it is for her which is why he offers his home to her every month, but never pressures her into accepting.

"Yes. But I also want to wake up in your arms every morning like this without falling on my ass. I'll just have to take my Impala and put it into use for the drives, a few hours lost is better than being away from you so long." She excuses, refusing to tell him the truth; that she's worried for him.

After all, Grayson is a head of the most formidable criminal organization, a gang as some would say, and he can't afford to show weakness and these dreams might come across as such. When she's there, the dreams tend to go away. Most of all, she makes sure he takes his prescription and attends his therapy sessions.

"You know I'd love that, but only if you're sure. It's a big move in a relationship and neither of us have much practice there. It's also a strain on you, so if you're absolutely sure, I would love nothing more." Practical, very self aware and extremely protective response put in the sweetest, most gentle way possible. There's the charming, magnetic man she loves so much. Right underneath the rubble. But she found she loves the rubble too.

"I'm sure." She lifts herself up, just barely enough to peck the tip of his nose because that always made him scrunch up and his lips whirl to the side into the cutest smile she had ever seen and that's what she loved the most - having such an effect on him that she discovers new things about him that not even Grayson himself knows.

Lazily, his hand slides down her back and rests upon her bum, squeezing it a little too hard but not enough to make it painful, although she never opposed to a little pain. Releasing the flesh he wanted to take a bite out of, he taps her gently, like a summer breeze.

"In that case, get that cute ass to class and I'll call a few people to help me move all this by the end of the day." Grayson taps her but once more, getting a happy giggle in return only prompting a crooked smile of his own to appear.

She tumbled over to her side, barely managing to survive the fall from grace she considered his chest to be, only to throw on the first thing she could find - a deep green summer dress, falling to her ankles where a tattoo rests; one she got after being saved by the members of The house of the rising sun. As her eternal gratitude, the rising sun tattoo on her right ankle will forever be there to remind her why she's able to giggle with her boyfriend while running late to class.

"And take a banana and an energy bar with you!" He commands, the change in his voice now evident to her. She could always tell when he simply suggests something in comparison to when he orders her to do something, when he dared to do such a bold thing.

Y/N didn't mind this particular demand, knowing this is just another way Grayson shows his love for her because she does forget to eat on time and his nagging helps keep her healthy and at the top of her game.

Quickly pecking his lips, she stumbles toward her door and turns around to take him in. Just for one moment longer her eyes remain on his faintly lit sculptured body, the sun rays dancing on the tan skin. His hair is a mess, his eyes tired but bright and his lips curled into a self satisfied smirk because he knows she's checking him out.

"Clothes are in the drawers." She begins, Grayson joining her for the last part to be said in unison.

"Second one from the bottom." Both smile, giving them enough soul food to survive the day.

Some would consider this a mundane thing, but for Grayson it was extraordinary, magic even. For a man who didn't think he'd live to see his thirtieth birthday, this was the epitome of happiness.

The men came quickly, packing all Y/N's things except her underwear, for Grayson had packed that before anyone even showed up. Maybe being jealous over his men seeing the sexy underwear he loked to provide her with is silly, but he wanted to be the only one with such privileges.

Just as they're leaving the day at its end, Grayson finds Ethan rushing in with a crazed look in his eyes.

"Where the fuck have you been all day?!" Ethan speaks through gritted teeth in hushed voices.

"Why?" A dark look befalls Grayson as he already knows something is happening and it's bad. It's always bad.

He spent the past year trying to make right of his wrongs, legitimize his work, but that can't ever be entirely done.

"Silver Snakes heard you closing up shop, and declared New York an open season." Ethan hissed, finding Grayson's face harden like stone.

"I am still the leader. I am still the Capo." Grayson's jaw clenches, only now seeing he and Ethan aren't alone.

"What does open season mean?" Her voice is determined, but the fear in her tone doesn't go unnoticed by either of them.

"It means they want this territory." Ethan answers instead, seeing his brother had gone back to the cold person he was before he ever met Y/N.

Grayson still considered New York his playground and he definitely had no intention giving up such a prized possession many died for him to keep.

"The Silver Snakes must have found out Gray has you now and in our world that means weakness. When one has a weakness, he can be dealt with. You're a liability." Ethan continues until Y/N starts to shake her head, her chin trembling instead of her lips because her jaw is clenched tightly enough to prevent that from happening.

"What does that mean? How does he get the territory?" Y/N insists, walking toward Grayson.

"It means Grayson has to die. Both of us. Heirs if there are any as well." And that's when her world comes crashing down once more.

"We can fight this. Them." She quickly moved ahead, standing on her tiptoes to cup Grayson's face and bring his eyes to her instead of the faraway place this piece of information took him to.

"We will prevail. As always." He noticed her speak in plural, meaning she would fight with him and although he loved her for it, that is exactly why he's so scared now. That's a part of her magic; she sees the sun even in the darkest days.

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #the bad guy #the bad guy concept

35 notes · View notes

traitor-boyfriend · 6 years

Text

So Viel

Words: 3004

Pairing: Stan/Kyle

Summary: Kyle finally returns home from a year abroad.

There’s an uncomfortable buzz of anticipation shelved in the back of Stan’s brain as he turns onto the main road, his fingers tapping idly along to the crackling radio. Home for all of six hours, there’s a lot that Stan can’t wait to show Kyle upon his eventual homecoming from a year abroad in Germany. He wonders whether to lead with his newly-chipped front tooth, courtesy of the only hockey game he neglected to wear a mouth guard, or the outline of an eventually complete tattoo on his left arm. Neither will matter; the first thing Kyle is sure to notice is that Stan is finally sporting an adult haircut. It’s nothing special -- just exceptionally short. More of an overgrown crew cut than anything. The wind brushes his bare forehead and he reaches to part the spindly wraith of where bangs used to be.

His phone buzzes with a text from Kyle.

My mother is driving me crazy. Please hurry.

Stan grins to himself and assures Kyle that he’s on the way, hoping that the hasty cleaning of his car done beforehand is enough to prevent too big a hissy fit about it. He thinks as such before knocking an empty and forgotten coffee cup beneath the passenger seat at a red light.

Ike is the first to answer when Stan rings the doorbell; he’s seventeen now with all the acne to prove it, the budding facial hair along his chin that’s as ordinary and ugly as it is exceptionally disconcerting. He listlessly invites Stan to wait inside while Kyle remains holed up in the bathroom.

Gerald flicks a newspaper corner in his direction as a greeting; Sheila wanders in from the kitchen and gives Stan a terse nod of acknowledgment, her cherubic hands pruned with dishwater. They exchange half-hearted pleasantries about the weather, the news, a shared eagerness in having Kyle home, and Ike makes sure his performative grunt of irritation is heard. Though he’s not sure when it started, there’s a tightrope balance to maintaining friendliness with Kyle’s mother now – as if any moment he may be ushered from their home by a wicker broom out into the street like a mangy cat. She suddenly insists on calling him ‘Stanley’ and remarks about his tattoo. She calls it “interesting” and nothing more.

Kyle emerges from the bathroom about five minutes later. Shower gel and shaving cream follows him, as does an air of humidity. He fiddles with minor details of his outfit when ambling through the hall before noticing Stan.

“Your hair!”

Stan smiles and runs his fingers through what little of it is left. “You like it?”

Kyle smiles ear to ear before declaring that he hates it.

He playfully gives Stan’s cheek two gentle slaps, hand falling to his shoulder. “I liked your hair long,” Kyle says. “You don’t even look like you anymore.”

“I could say the same to you,” Stan smirks, directing his attention to Kyle’s perfectly coiffed and incredibly stylish undercut. Kyle asks if it looks stupid, to which Stan assures him that it doesn’t. It looks very nice on him. By far, it’s the most fashionable aspect about him – the rest of Kyle clad in the same oversized earth-tone flannel shirt he’s owned since ninth grade, scuffed ankle boots, and a charcoal pair of jeans that are looking a little worse for wear.

The lingering distance dissipates between them in a quick hug; Kyle collects his things with Sheila warbling about their whereabouts from the other room, Stan not protesting as he is carelessly rushed out the door.

Kyle is immediately drawn to the tattoo once outside, taking Stan’s arm and examining it with clinical fervor in the flood of porchlight. He asks what it is.

“A rabbit smoking a pipe,” Stan says.

Kyle turns Stan’s arm at an angle once, twice, releasing the sturdy grip on his flesh. He nods. “Interesting,” he says.

They head to the new and improved Shakey’s, which is neither new nor improved but rather under different management; such management includes the obtaining of a liquor license and excommunicating itself of its titular mascot, which makes Stan both relieved and slightly sad. Several of the overhead lights are burnt out, a dim fog of body heat and grime nesting in every small nook, the floors still sticky as ever. A backwoods baby blanket of childhood baseball games and poorly planned birthday parties. They order a large cheese pizza and a pitcher of beer.

It’s still surreal to be sitting with Kyle again – to be able to see and hear him clearly. Though he understood, it was difficult for Stan to cosign to a year of dwindling phone calls and video chats, to a blurry, garbled visage of Kyle that lived on in his cell phone or webcam that may be disconnected at a moment’s notice. A year seemed intolerable, and far too long to live with the phantom ache of reaching for Kyle only to find him missing. Fostering companionship in others was futile; it was a stark realization on just how little he confided in anyone else. His first sip of beer is cold and crisp and tastes both familiar and brand new.

Obligatory small talk and catch-up questions out of the way, the two fall into the familiar rhythm of silent communication: pointed flickers toward the homey rednecks worthy of their ridicule and concealed snorts, jested kicks beneath the table, cheeks burning bright and eyes filled with light. Stan tells a joke and Kyle grasps breathlessly at his arm as he laughs. Every touch feels so good it hurts.

Kyle pecks his pizza like a sheepish bird, but with encouragement to drink he becomes equally greedy as Stan, the two of them batting greasy fingers at each other like when they were teenagers calling dibs on the unevenly large slices, ready to pounce if the other tries taking more than his fair share. Stan smiles and stares, feeling prematurely drunk. Kyle asks a defensive, “What?” as a long sliver of mozzarella falls from his lips; Stan only shakes his head and grins.

He has a fresh bite in his mouth when Kyle reaches across the table and snatches his chin. He commands Stan to swallow immediately and show his teeth, which he does.

“Christ, what did you do to your beautiful teeth!”

“It’s one tooth,” Stan says. “Hockey.”

Kyle’s internal ticker begins to rattle off, flailing his arms in fury over what a stupid and dangerous sport it is – how it’s bad enough that Stan feels the need to play, but he’s also the reason Ike plays now too, so he’s basically the only responsible party if any injury befalls him – and speaking of responsibility, to be so irresponsible as to forget his mouth guard? What was he thinking? Does he know how much worse he could’ve been hurt?

Stan patiently waits for Kyle to exhaust himself. He does so quite dramatically, flopping back into the booth with a dissatisfied puff. Stan smiles sweetly.

“It’s not that bad, and I’m getting it fixed,” he says. “You don’t need to worry so much.”

Kyle hardens. “Well, I do worry about you,” he says, quiet. His gaze briefly pans to the other side of the restaurant before returning to Stan, holding his drink close without sipping from it. For a moment, Stan wishes to preserve him in exactly this way – loving scowl, knobby knuckles curled around glass, gap teeth bit down on his bottom lip. “And don’t tell me what to do. I’ll worry about you as much as I goddamn please.”

Stan grins and accepts this as an inevitability.

Soon after, he regales Stan with stories of Germany: no tipping the waiter, nothing open on Sundays, the electrifying terror of driving on the Autobahn. It amuses him greatly to admire all the little ways Kyle is both inconvenienced, fascinated and utterly irritated by arbitrary social conventions, exhausting himself regardless of whether he chooses to defy or comply with them, his curious fixation with their very existence reading as evidence to something greater of who Kyle is as a person – though, of what, Stan isn’t sure. All he knows is it makes Kyle very interesting to listen to.

Stan is responsive to the intricate cultural comparisons, albeit only mildly until Kyle makes mention of a man named Lukas. A friend of his host family. He’s expecting the bomb before Kyle drops it; Stan isn’t sure when or where his odd possessiveness of Kyle first emerged, but it beats tried and true as ever, hallowed in his chest by mention of the man being six years older. Kyle insists it wasn’t ‘weird’ or ‘manipulative’ or any of Stan’s other fears – Lukas made the whole experience all the richer. Lukas was sweet. This is worse somehow.

And then the conversation of romance turns its head to Stan. Kyle asks about Andrew. Though, he doesn’t address him as such. Andrew, to Kyle, is “that swimmer, or whatever he was” and nothing more.

Stan says shakes his head and sips his beer. It’s a slightly tender wound that Kyle jumps to salt almost immediately. He raps his nails against the table, obviously waiting to be given the gory details, an unabashed lust for melodrama. The real story is far less glamourous. A nice girl from his botany class who frequently loaned him pens pulled him aside before class several weeks before and informed him that she saw Andrew with his tongue in the mouth of some unrecognizable stranger the night before. It took Stan an additional week to confront him about it. Easily the most upsetting part of the whole ordeal was the ease and unrepentance of Andrew’s confession to it and the months-long secrecy behind it. Reliving it in technicolor vividness makes Stan feel foreign in his own skin.

“That’s it?” Kyle asks, incredulous. “He was just out with some other dude at a party? Not even trying to hide?”

“Yeah.”

“God, what a dick.”

“Yeah. But I liked him, y’know.”

“Oh, I know… and I’m sorry, I guess. He was a dick though. I could tell from the moment I met him – when he told me he liked Bukowski, I was, like, ‘Oh, I bet this guy’s a dick.’”

“You think every guy I date is a dick.”

Kyle snorts. “Yeah, because they usually are. I swear, Stanley, you have the worst taste in men.”

Stan nods reluctantly. Andrew did cheat on him, so it’s not as if Kyle is wrong. He isn’t privy to the consequences of wrongness with the same triage as Stan. He thought to be suspicious when he still wouldn’t say “I love you” after six months of dating; everyone assured him he was merely being paranoid. And sure, maybe he was, but it wasn’t for no reason, he wasn’t simply imagining things, but he felt a need to—

“You can do better, dude,” Kyle says, furrowing his brow, a crown of righteous indignation atop his head on Stan’s behalf. He offers a tender touch of the hand, a thin sheen of pizza grease still coating his fingers. His eyes soften. The overhead light makes Kyle look like an angel. Stan feels something dizzy stir in his stomach. “Way better.”

He thanks Kyle and they polish what’s left of the lukewarm beer, leaving their money on the table.

In the parking lot, they sit in Stan’s car with the radio on and the windows down. He’s a little buzzed but decent to drive, though he finds it best to wait given the unmarked police car across the street, not wanting to end on a dour note with an arrest. Wind blows steady and cool with the suggestion of a possible storm in the coming days. Kyle doesn’t argue over Stan’s choice of music, and the delicate bleating of an acoustic guitar serves as a lovely if ominous backdrop to the brisk bite in the air.

A year in Germany has only exacerbated Kyle’s smoking habit, and he offers a cigarette to Stan before pulling back in embarrassment.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles. His cigarette hovers near the opening of the pack without being tucked away. “I shouldn’t even be smoking around you.”

“It’s okay,” Stan says. “I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s not – God.”

“Dude, I haven’t had an asthma attack in four years. Really, it’s okay.”

Kyle apprehensively twirls the cigarette in his fingers. Stan can tell he’s itching for the relief of nicotine – unable to smoke at home for fear Sheila might catch and promptly berate him – but continues to stare at Stan with lilted worry. Stan scoffs and shakes his head; he reaches for Kyle’s lighter and sparks it for him, the flicker of fire illuminating Kyle’s short and uneven lashes.

Kyle smolders and leans towards the flame. “You’re so good to me.”

Though he isn’t sure when, the smell of cigarette smoke, particularly when mingled with the aura of belonging to Kyle, had transformed from something previously chemical and unpleasant. It was homey now. A familiar pillar to the foundation of his life, like the endless drift of pine needles and gasoline, effervescent chill of snow on his bedroom window, the bellowing of his parents arguing through paper-thin walls. Something that could always be relied on as a universal constant.

He watches Kyle drag and sigh and wave his emphatic hand while he prattles on about the arduous event his mother made of picking him up from the airport, but Stan has trouble paying attention. There’s something even more captivating about the sharp curvatures of Kyle’s face in low light, the wet shine to his teeth when he delights himself with a particularly funny observation. He finds himself wanting nothing more than to kiss Kyle, but beyond that, to allow his face as close to Kyle’s as possible in a dangerous precursor. Just to be close. Very close. So he does, touch-starved and aching and utterly helpless to the allure of self-destruction.

Kyle asks what it is that Stan is doing.

And Stan finds himself kissing Kyle’s cheek before his brain has made any conscious decision to do so. It’s soft and chaste and fearfully quick. It’s the only way he knows to address this benevolent, pernicious connection between them that refuses to be severed, come hell or highwater. Or Germany.

Kyle blinks, oblivious and dumbfounded. Stan’s heart sits crooked in his chest doing its best to find any way to contort itself in search of relief.

“Stan, I, uh.” Kyle murmurs, his voice a gravelly whisper. He laughs to himself and Stan fears it to be mean. Kyle flickers him a glance. “You don’t want this,” he says. He sounds pensive and sad. “Me, y’know.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You can do better.”

“No. I can’t.”

It’s an admission that leaves a hot tickle in some part of his body indistinguishable from his heart or his stomach.

Kyle doesn’t speak right away. He swallows, saliva bobbing in his throat, staring out the windshield until he repeats Stan’s name again, twice, three times in a daze, and its everything he finds himself ever wanting to hear – his name said with that exact inflection of confusion and desperation and loving fondness.

Stan goes for his cheek once more and finds himself on Kyle’s lips instead. He gives a low whine against Stan’s mouth, accepting the first timid brush of Stan’s tongue; it feels so good it hurts. Kyle nips at him eagerly. It’s a gentle stasis, slow and warm and on the brink of collapse at any moment.

Kyle pulls back first. He clears his throat and drags on his cigarette, letting the smoke escape through his nose. Stan tries to find where exactly it is that he buried his voice. “Is, uh. Is this a date now?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Stan is thrown by the question. Kyle looks at him with obvious curiosity; his tone is void of its usual smarmy sarcasm, plain and honest, as if asking whether or not he should be anticipating rain later of if he has something stuck in his teeth. He shouldn’t, and he doesn’t, and Stan is unsure how to respond. He stares beyond Kyle’s eyes with a hand still gripping to a gelled patch of his hair.

“I missed you,” he breaths.

“I missed you too,” Kyle says. He pensively bites on his bottom lip before pawing at Stan’s face, fingers tracing the curve of the shell of his ear. The heat of burning ash radiates against his skin. “I missed you so fucking much, Stan.”

They spend a minute or two like that: hands wandering around the other, foreheads almost touching, but not quite. It’s a culmination of all the years Stan stole little moments, because that was all he had and would be given – hands brushing together, slightly-too-long hugs, drunk over-affection, one of Kyle’s angular hands soothing his back during a two-a.m. meltdown while the other hastily wiped at Stan’s wet eyes, gentle but firm yet exhausted commands to stop crying. He’s not sure how he’s been able to go this long without allowing it a name; he’s terrified of possibly having to continue it this way.

“Say something romantic to me in German,” he asks. It’s all he can think of.

“It’s not that kind of language,” Kyle says through a grin. “It’s not romantic at all.”

Kyle pulls away to savor what’s left of his almost-extinguished cigarette; he flicks the filter beneath the neon storefront, blustering the acidic fog of smoke out the window.

“Can we go back to your house?” Kyle asks. He bats his eyes at Stan, fiddling with the folded cuffs of his pants. “I’m so tired. I’m still kind of jet-lagged.”

Stan smirks, newly emboldened by Kyle’s indirect shyness. “And you wanna sleep in my bed?” he muses.

Kyle rolls his eyes and sighs with a lofty hue. “If you’ll have me.”

Stan grins, laughing. “Of course,” he says. “You’re the only one I would.”

#south park #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #sp style #i wrote this for kit a while ago and cleaned it up a bit GOODNIGHT.

184 notes · View notes

wavesofinkdrops · 7 years

Text

Snapshots

Anonymous asked: Writing prompt: Ivan is an immortal but Alfred is just a regular human. Every time Alfred gets reborn, Ivan falls in love with him over and over again. Alfred has no memory of his previous lives until he finds pictures of Ivan with his exes that look suspiciously like him 👀👀👀👀 Ik this is based on that tumblr post but i just want a rusame ;;;;; I'll give you my first born child im a huge slut for this reincarnation kinda thing thank

Thank you, anon, for your prompt! This went a bit off the rails initially and got longer as I went on, but here we go. Sorry it took so long. Slight warnings for temporary character death, but nothing major otherwise. And thank you @kagemushakosuke for being an awesome beta-reader!

The first time Ivan sees him, he’s bathed in the golden light flooding the late afternoon.

The longshoremen and dock hands are streaming into and out of the ship, and Ivan oversees the process with little interest. The captain of the ship and some American officials are making jovial conversation next to him, discussing everything from weather in Moscow at this time of the year to the political climate in the Colonies.

And out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flurry of movement and a flash of something, and when he looks over he finds himself looking at a boy. He’s beautiful, the sunlight adding a shine to his youthful features. He’s moving around swiftly, carrying packages and crates and helping here and there to unload the ship.

And while he is perhaps the most beautiful person Ivan has ever seen, the first time he ignores it as best he can. He’s just a boy among all the others.

The second time Ivan sees him is much later, in - if he remembers correctly - 1851. Ivan is walking along the streets of Moscow, and comes to a bridge. The boy is standing there, in the middle of the bridge, looking over it to the river underneath.

Ivan can’t immediately recall why the boy seems familiar, but when he does, the boy is also looking at him. Ivan belatedly realises he was staring. Oddly, the boy doesn’t break the gaze, but smiles radiantly. Ivan responds with a smile more apologetic and embarrassed, and crosses to the man (he looks slightly older now).

“Pardon me for staring, it is just that you reminded me of someone I - knew,” Ivan offers as an apology, and though it seemed impossible, the man’s smile widened.

His response is given in flawless albeit accented Russian. Foreign. “It is fine, it has happened to me, too.” The man extends a hand. “My name is Alfred. Alfred F. Johanssen.”

Ivan takes the hand, and shakes it. “Ivan Braginsky. Pleasure to meet you.” Alfred responds similarly, and Ivan decides to engage in polite small-talk. “Where are you from? I venture you aren’t from here.”

Alfred chuckles. It’s a soft sound. Reminds Ivan of a light June breeze. “The accent gave me away, did it not? I am American. I am a student here in Russia.”

Ivan smiles. His response is in English. “If you are more comfortable with English, I am fluent in it,” he says.

Alfred seems relieved, although he tries to conceal it. “If it’s no bother. Thanks. I’m fluent, but it still is a bit of work on some days.”

“What has brought you to Moscow then?” If Alfred is fluent, perhaps he works here. Although he seems so terribly young.

“I’m a student of the University. I heard the classes are good, and had the opportunity to travel abroad for my studies.”

Ivan makes an agreeing hum. “What is it you study?”

“Medicine. It’s hard, but worth it.”

There’s something about Alfred that’s charming, and Ivan finds himself enjoying the conversation. They chat lightly for some time, and soon Ivan finds himself inviting Alfred for dinner, and they soon become regulars in each other’s lives.

The first photo is taken when Alfred gets his doctorate in medicine, and they celebrate it by eternalising the moment.

As much as it pains Ivan to do so, he announces to Alfred in 1859 that he’s being transferred to another country, Germany or France - he can’t remember which any more - to work for His Imperial Majesty. Alfred seems downcast, but Ivan vows to visit and write to Alfred often. He writes but never visits (explaining why he looks the same as twenty years ago would be complex at the least) and Alfred mentions his return to the United States now that he has his degree.

In 1862, he receives a letter in an unfamiliar handwriting. It’s signed Matthew, Alfred’s brother. The letter tells Ivan that Alfred perished in the war, trying to save the lives of wounded men. It pains Ivan more than he imagined, but it is nothing he hasn’t experienced before. Friendship does not come easy for a man like Ivan.

Heroic, Ivan thinks as he reads the letter again, and the word fits Alfred. He ignores the way his heart pulls.

Thirty or so years later, Ivan makes a trip to the United States. He’s reading the newspaper when he comes across a picture of Alfred F. Johnson in it, proudly standing in front of a large building. The man is a Senator. Ivan realises he never asked about the middle name.

Ivan doesn’t meet him in those years, but he keeps the picture. He convinces himself he has no idea why he does so.

As morbid as it may sound, to Ivan wars are nothing but distractions. After all, war provides him with a break from the dull, usual rhythm of life. But this time, war takes a rather new and painful twist for him.

When the war breaks out in 1914, he immediately signs up and quickly rises through ranks due to his sheer skill with a weapon and in military strategy. And when the tide turns in 1917, he knows it wise to join the ranks if the Red Army. And he is soon on the front lines of the civil war tearing his country apart.

Frankly, everything up until July 1920 is rather familiar to Ivan. It is, in all honesty, July 17th that takes Ivan by surprise. That day, Ivan would always remember as the date of his death. The previous time was in 1561, the exact date of which was rather hard to pinpoint, with a rather inconvenient sword through his chest. He’d been in and out of consciousness for days, alone in a forest, and had had to pull the sword out himself in one of his moments of consciousness to allow his body to heal the wound itself instead of him bleeding out, again.

This time, he supposes he miscalculated many things. The first being the simple operation plan, the final being his enemy. He makes his way through the bright night with a handful of his men. It is rather irritating to attempt covert operations so far north in the summer, as darkness is never a cover there. They’ve almost reached the enemy camp when they’re ambushed and surrounded. It doesn’t take long for the shower of bullets to rain through the men, and Ivan finds himself turning to the last enemy man.

To his surprise, the man is Alfred. He’s much younger, almost the age he was when Ivan first saw him bathed in gold. Perhaps he lied about his age when he enlisted.

Alfred blinks twice when Ivan’s weapon does nothing, and fires with shaking hands. Ivan knows that the bullet from Alfred’s gun slammed right through his head.

His last conscious thought is that he’s lucky for the clean in-and-out trajectory.

It’s not long before there’s another war that comes and goes, and Ivan finds himself now weaving through the crowds. He finds himself at the edge of the Elbe, the river flowing gently downwards. The American and Russian soldiers behind him are cheerfully and loudly chatting and singing. He digs his pockets for a cigarette and lights it. The river continues to flow, the same way it has for centuries. Ivan has seen the river many times throughout the years.

To his side, there’s a cough and shuffling. He looks up from the river. His eyes land on what seems to be an American officer, and he looks perhaps in his mid- or late thirties. And then Ivan’s eyes meet the striking blue ones, that smile quickly at him before turning away. Ivan doesn’t think long, and he approaches Alfred. He would be lying if he said he isn’t fond of the man.

Alfred doesn’t see or him approaching. “It is a rather nice day to be alive,” Ivan says. The American turns to him with a smile.

“It sure is.” Alfred looks at him for a moment, but then his expression morphs into a quizzical one. Another moment later, he pales considerably. “Jesus Christ, you-!” Alfred takes a step back, and the realisation crashes in Ivan’s mind.

After all, a normal person would not react kindly to seeing the exact same man he killed twenty years earlier, standing around in flesh and blood. But Ivan’s face simply falls away from his smile, into one of question. “I’m sorry if I am intruding, I can-”

“I- Jesus, no, it- uh… it’s fine. You just… you look exactly…” Alfred frowns. Exactly like a man I killed twenty five years ago in Russia, Ivan completes in his mind. Perhaps he had even been Alfred’s first kill. Alfred shakes his head. “Must be the whole damn thing playin’ tricks on me. War does that,” he chuckles humourlessly.

“Yes, it does.”

“So, uh-?”

“Lieutenant Braginsky,” Ivan completes.

“So, what next, Lieutenant?”

Ivan shrugs. “I do not know. Returning to Russia. And for you,...?”

“Lieutenant Johns.” Alfred sighs. “The Pacific. War ain’t over there yet, and someone’s gotta do it. Maybe get myself some more shiny medals and a new title. Who knows.”

“Who ind-” Ivan is cut off by someone yelling Photograph! And some minutes later they all stand with their men together with a smile on their faces.

Ivan manages to get a copy of the photograph later on, and he realises he still doesn’t know Alfred’s middle name.

He finds out some months later when he reads about the death of Captain Alfred Frederick Johns from Pennsylvania in Japan. The headline reads NORMANDY HERO DIES IN JAPAN.

Alfred does not seem to be meant to live long lives. Ivan finds it ironic. He folds the paper away, but not before saving the picture of the radiant smile aimed at the camera.

The next time Ivan crosses paths with Alfred, they could almost be friends. Ivan is leaving his apartment when a young man with bright blue eyes and a clear voice bumps into him.

The man apologises in perfect Russian, and Ivan notices there’s not the hint of an accent. Ivan doesn’t have time to respond before Alfred is hurtling down the stairs of the standard Soviet apartment building.

Apparently Alfred lives on the floor just above Ivan, as he finds out after crossing Alfred on the following morning. Alfred introduces himself, however, as Fyodor Kozlov, and Ivan concludes he works for the C.I.A.

Ivan figures he can enjoy it while it lasts.

They’re almost friends. Alfred likes to cook, and often invites Ivan for dinner. Ivan has a slightly better television than Alfred, so whenever Alfred wants to watch something specific he’s knocking on Ivan’s door. Moscow is a beautiful city that they often enjoy taking walks through. And when Ivan snaps photo after photo of an elated Alfred in different spots of the city, he realises there’s a reason he thinks the man is special, and why they keep crossing roads.

Alfred sometimes vanishes for a few days at a time, to visit family, to run an errand, attend to business. It’s not long before Ivan’s bosses catch on to it and Alfred’s apartment is raided, Alfred arrested. The U.S. refuses to acknowledge Alfred’s existence. And so, after Ivan leaves the interrogation room after the seventeenth questioning, it’s Fyodor who is sent to a work camp. Alfred is probably long gone, forgotten, having refused to capitulate and give up information. It’s the only thought that makes the entire ordeal bearable for Ivan.

Ivan keeps both the photos he and Alfred took and the photographs from the Alfred Frederick Johnston, C.I.A. Agent file.

Some years later, Ivan comes across the older photographs that he forgot he had. He decides to put them all into the same spot. A week later, he finds a small black album, and he puts the pictures into it in chronological order. The newspaper cut-outs, the professional photographs, the ones snapped with a cheap camera here and there.

He idly wonders when the next time he will see Alfred is. And he wishes, though he denies it even to himself, that they be granted more time.

Ivan meets Alfred F. Jones in 2013. He’s an enthusiastic intern, and Ivan had the good luck to be assigned as his mentor on his first weeks. Alfred is meant to follow Ivan everywhere around the complex, and Ivan soon finds there is no containing Alfred’s enthusiasm whatsoever. The boy, fresh out of university with top grades in Astrophysics, is every bit as fascinated by the building itself as he is by the people and work it inhabits. SpaceX had been Ivan’s workplace for only a few years, but he’s managed to make himself a name. After all, he does have the advantage of a few hundred years of mathematics and scientific studies behind him.

Alfred is a ball of questions, firing one after another to Ivan - who barely finds time to answer before he has another one to think about. The next launch is in a little over a month, no it won’t be manned, research purposes mainly, testing secondary. Main focus of the research is anti-gravity, yes, its effects on plants. New type of engine, in the attempt to shift towards cleaner energies. And the questions keep coming. By the time they finish the tour, it’s late into the afternoon and so Ivan decides that there is no need to start on anything today. He leads Alfred to his office, where Alfred stares incredulously at the whiteboard covered in mathematical symbols.

“What’re you working on at the moment?” Alfred asks.

“It is nothing extremely interesting. I’m merely trying to see how to increase the efficiency of the engine if it were running on other types of fuel, to broaden our possibilities, while still being cost-efficient.” Alfred nods, and Ivan has an inkling it’s unlikely this project will remain his alone for long. He smiles genuinely at the youth who seems to be attempting to remember every detail on the board.

A few months down the line, and Ivan has accepted Alfred as a constant presence in his life. Alfred is either working on a project he wants Ivan’s opinion on, or he’s interested in what Ivan is working on, or they just happen to be put into the same widescale projects. One day Ivan actually forgets that his office isn’t Alfred’s when he’s looking for the American and puzzled as to why he isn’t in Ivan’s office as he usually tends to be.

After a year, they’re friends outside of work. It starts off when they find out they don’t live very far from each other; Alfred’s car broke down and he had called Ivan to tell him he would be late to work. Ivan then asked where Alfred lived, and found out it was barely a detour from his apartment to Alfred’s. From that car ride onwards, they regularly carpool and arrive to work together.

One morning, Ivan accidentally meets Matthew - Alfred’s twin, who was usually at work before Ivan got to Alfred’s - when he mistakenly assumed it was Alfred and tried to get him to get to work. When Matthew introduces himself properly, Ivan remembers the letter that he received over a century ago, but pushes the thought away for the moment. Matthew takes quickly to liking Ivan, and teasing Alfred about the boyfriend he wasn’t told about. Matthew, against Alfred’s wishes, invites Ivan to dinner.

Outside of work, Alfred and Ivan spend time either in libraries when their company’s database isn’t available for their research into other theories or existing experimental data, or debating different equations over coffee.

It isn’t long before Matthew tells Ivan to hurry it up a bit and ask Alfred on a date already, and Ivan does.

“Damn, this is nice,” Alfred whistles as he enters Ivan’s apartment. Alfred had realised he’d never been to Ivan’s apartment, as many times as they’d been to Alfred’s (much to Matthew’s misery), and since then Alfred had been bugging Ivan over it. And so here they are, Alfred taking in the cosy place. It’s nicely furnished, with some pretty standard things. What draws to Alfred the most is the huge bookshelf with books in multiple languages and in various stages of old age. He gently traces the spines of a few of the books.

“How many languages do you speak exactly?” Alfred asks after he’s come across books in English, French, Russian, Chinese, German, Japanese, Italian… “All of these?”

“Yes, in fact, all of those and a few more. I have no books in Romanian, Swedish or Arabic, but I do manage with them when I speak.”

Alfred looks incredulous. “How much time did you spend on learning them, and how did you manage astronomy with it?”

Ivan has a well-rehearsed story by now, which he always does tweak a bit to fit the necessities of the time era. “My father was half-Russian, half-Chinese, and my mother German - naturally, I learnt all of these at home. I lived for a while in France, where I went to an international class and thus learnt both French and English. Some languages I just picked up along the way, such as Italian and Swedish, others I learned for one reason or another.”

“Wow. Okay. And here I struggle with basic French. I know a bit of Spanish though,” Alfred says with a laugh.

Alfred plops down on the couch, and Ivan goes to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” He asks Alfred.

“Yeah, just whatever you’re gonna have!” Is the response he receives. Ivan settles on wine, and soon is pouring two glasses. No noises are coming out of the living room, and while that isn’t alarming, it certainly is odd when the person in the living room is Alfred. When Ivan finished pouring the two glasses, he goes back to the living room and finds that Alfred is flicking through a book from the shelf with a deep-set frown. Ivan sets the glasses down, and doesn’t doubt for a moment Alfred has picked one of the foreign ones and is trying to decipher it.

“Are you trying to deciph-”

Oh.

Ivan recognises the small book in Alfred’s hand, which really is not a book at all. He perhaps should have thought twice about putting the album there, amongst all his other books, but he also had never counted in the probability of Alfred picking out that one out of the rest of them.

Alfred looks up at him, a mix of worry and fear in his eyes. “Ivan?” He asks with a dry voice. He clears his throat, and looks between the album and Ivan. “What the hell is this?”

Ivan is frozen in place, and this is one of the rare situations he does not have a good, logical explanations for.

“Is this me?” Alfred continues. Upon receiving no answer from the shocked man, he pressed on. “Ivan, why do these pictures all look like me?” His frustration seems to grow with each passing second. “Is this a joke?!”

Ivan tries to approach Alfred to take the album away from him, but Alfred steps back. “I… I can explain.”

“Well, I sure do hope you can, because otherwise I’m calling the cops on you. What the fuck is this?” His tone is louder, angrier.

“Alfred, how old did I tell you I was?”

“Answer me, dammit, don’t change the subject!”

“Believe me, Alfred,” Ivan tries with his most calming voice, “believe me, I am trying to explain. How old am I?”

Alfred looks disbelieving. “27. That’s what you told me.”

Ivan… isn’t sure where to go from there. “I, ah,... In all truth, I am closer to 500,” Ivan says.

Alfred looks completely disbelieving and unamused. “What the hell are you-”

“492 this year, to be exact,” Ivan continues, but he doubts it makes much of a difference. “I’m immortal.” Alfred doesn’t respond. “And in my past, I have met people who… ah… resemble you, and are also called Alfred, and whom I have on some occasions been friends with. Although,” Ivan chuckles in an attempt to lighten the tension, “you did kill me once.”

Alfred looks at him without blinking, the album still tightly in his hands. “This is some kind of sick practical joke, isn’t it? Where’s the camera?” He looks around him. “What the hell, Ivan, I thought -”

“It’s not a joke, Alfred,” Ivan says quietly in the hopes of Alfred believing him.

“So, what, if I take a knife and plunge it straight into your heart you’ll just stand there and blink at me?” Alfred asks with a flat voice.

“No, not exactly. I would pass out, and if you remove the knife from me immediately then my body will heal the wound and I will wake up again. If you don’t, I will swim in and out of consciousness until I manage to take the knife away myself and hence allow the healing to-”

“You expect me to believe that?!”

“How do you want me to prove it?” Ivan asks, and Alfred falls silent. Neither of them really has any idea. Ivan walks up to Alfred and takes the album from him, going right back to the beginning.

“Before this first picture, I saw you near the times of the American Revolution as a dockhand. In this one, you - well, your… your reincarnation, to be exact - had just obtained their doctorate from the University of Moscow. We were friends then. You died only a few years later in the American Civil War. After that, on a trip to the US, I saw you in the newspaper - here - as a Senator. Never once met you personally in that lifetime.”

Ivan takes a breath, trying to determine Alfred’s reaction, but his expression is almost blank.

Ivan continues. “1920, July 17th to be exact, you were one of the Allied troops sent to Russia to fight off the Red Army. You looked too young to be in the Army and I imagine you’d lied about your age. I was part of the Red Army, and you shot me in the head. Luckily for me, that shot went straight through and allowed me to heal. After that, I saw the same you, only much older as a Lieutenant, when our troops met at the Elbe. You… seemed like you’d seen a ghost when you recognised me, but didn’t actually bring up the subject. That photograph is of you and I and our men, see? There is me, not a day older than I look now, yes? And here is you, your reincarnation or whatever you may wish to call it.”

Ivan sighs. “Once again, you died, this time in the Pacific.” Ivan points to the newspaper article. “The next time, you were a CIA agent sent to the USSR to spy. Ironically, I had a few years earlier joined the KGB - they had somehow found military records of me, but funnily enough they either didn’t know they were from WWII, or simply ignored how young I looked compared to how old the records were. And of course, to add to this, you lived one floor above me. We became… friends. Until, well, you were caught and sent to a work camp. Never heard from you again, and haven’t met any reincarnations since that one.”

“You’re - you’ve got to be-” Alfred looks at Ivan, whose face is serious and sullen. “You’re not joking.”

It’s not a question, but Ivan still responds. “No, I am not. I wouldn’t lie about this, especially if the evidence is rather damning.”

“I’m… But-”

“You’ve never told me your middle name, is that right?” Ivan asks, a final thought coming to him. Alfred thinks, before shaking his head. “Frederick, isn’t it?”

“You could have gotten that from any file on me,-”

“I do not have access to those documents, I was not the one who hired you.”

“But there, that reincarnation, his last name is Johns-”

“Yes, but the first name and middle name do not change. For some reason, do not ask me why.”

“Well, why are you immortal?”

“I was 27, and came across a… witch. They were rather common at the time, but secretive. Of course, I did not know who she was, and ended up on her bad side. She placed a curse on me, as was customary,” he says with a tense smile. “She doomed me to immortal life, and to fall in love - but watch them die a thousand times before the curse would break.”

Alfred looks shocked at that. “And… that person is me?”

“I refused to believe it pained me to hear you’d died, as many times as it happened. As much as I tried to deny it, you are the one.”

“We’re… like soulmates? Is that what you’re saying?” Alfred asks.

“As foolish as that sounds, it’s the best description. I’ve only ever met one other man like me, and the Frenchman’s been head over heels for an Englishman since the Middle Ages. Although I’m not quite sure how much the Englishman can stand him for even a lifetime. But, that’s beside the point - I will stand by you as long as I can,” Ivan explains. “I do understand if…” He takes a heavy breath. “If you never wish to see me again - for more than strictly professional purposes.”

Alfred is silent. “But if I grow old, you…”

Confusion settles in Ivan’s face. “What?”

Alfred seems to be deep in his mind, thinking something through. “Ivan, I’m in love with you.” Alfred’s eyes are confused but truthful. “I liked you from the moment I met you, and - and - there’s a reason why I basically lived in your stupid office for over a year! When I pined after you for months on end to Mattie he got so tired of me he told you to ask me out!” Alfred’s eyes widen at the confession and he looks away, too embarrassed to meet Ivan’s eyes.

Ivan can’t help but break a smile, despite knowing that the issue still hasn’t been resolved. When Alfred looks at Ivan again, he in fact tells him so.

“Stop smiling! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, I mean, I love you and I really don’t want to lose you but goddamnit, how do we… What if - when, not if, you’re immortal, I’m not - what about when I grow old? What happens then?”

“Alfred,” Ivan cuts him off, “if you can’t tell from this,” he holds up the album, “and how I just told you how long I’ve been in love with you, the answer is longer than you’ve been alive. I won’t leave you.”

Alfred looks at his hands, that he’s wringing together out of nervousness. “I guess we can just figure everything out later.”

“What?” Ivan asks, confused as to what Alfred means.

“Well, I mean, I’m the only one of us who’s gonna grow old, so at least I don’t have to worry about… about what to do if you - if you died or stuff. I’ll just…” Alfred sighs. “We can make it up as we go along.” Ivan smiles. “Promise me to find me in my next life, though, and make it work again. Because if I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, in this life, chances are I’ll do it again. In, uh, another life. Just, you know, try to like… reason, with me, if you can, and explain things and all that? Or maybe I can - I can somehow… convince myself that, that it’s true, like some kind of - of letter -”

Ivan nods, and takes Alfred’s hands into his own. “I will find a way.” His smile speaks volumes, and there’s a slight tint rising in Alfred’s cheeks that Ivan finds adorable. “In the meantime, we can enjoy right here, right now,” he says, and Alfred smiles.

“Yeah,” he answers with a slightly breathy voice, “yeah, that sounds nice.”

#aph america #aph russia #prompt #rusame #my writing #anon #fluff #character death #temporary character death #war #wwi #wwii #russian civil war #cold war #historical #immortal au

96 notes · View notes

jujubieberbae · 7 years

Text

SEX TAPE

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Request: could you please do an imagine where justin and y/n went for jog on the mountains in cali and when they reached to the top in a private space justin fucked y/n against some tree or whatever but a pap saw them and recorded it while y/n and justin never knew. and when y/n and justin are done fucking they went home and saw it on the media of fucking etccc.. you do the rest 😊 LOLOL IK THIS IS A STUPID IDEA😂😂😂

Its unedited so excuse any mistakes. And sorry for the wait, but im back Bitches!

***

The padding and crunching of our feet atop the layers of gravel that littered the familiar trail, accompanied by the early morning birds singing a sweet melody was just as sweet as candy to a child. It was a sugar rush.

But in compose to a sugar rush for a child, it was adrenaline rush for myself.

The sunlight seemed to dance during this early spring morning. To weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. This morning, the yellow light was calming. The suns rays diffused softly through the gray curtains of clouds with a shrouded light that never failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving.

The hilltop approached fast, and with the last few steps completed, a large and triumphant breath was released through my dry and scratchy mouth, so desperate for a sip of water.

“That was a good run.”

The voice was so sweet to my ears, but so sudden after the hour period of silent running. My eyes trailed towards the figure besides me with a smile, as I walked forward, snatching the bottle half full from his hands.

“Yeah, for you.” I scoffed. “I was struggling half the time considering you hogged the water.”

Justin’s smirk was undeniably attractive, his sweaty physic only making the sight so much as a delicacy to look at.

“Thirsty much?” Justin commented sarcastically but the hint of lust was hard to miss.

“Only for you baby.” I replied with a wink before gulping down a large amount of the water bottle.

It was silent from then on out, the early morning breeze brushing past the both of us - whipping through the green blades and blossoming leaves around us.

Justin was the first to act upon our setting, stepping forward on top of the breezy mountain until the entire veiw of LA stood in front of him, me following close behind.

A sigh of delight was forced from Justin, molding a cloud of smoke to appear, re-creating the once invisible air into a smoggy form. His eyes danced around the city with the glare of the sun reflecting against his orbs - leaving his eyes in a beautiful bright honey colour.

He may not be beautiful to himself, but to me, he was just perfect.

His once distracted eyes finally caught sight of mine, furrowing in at the eyebrows as his mouth morphed a form of questioning. “What?” He wandered.

“Nothing.” I replied breathlessly, “Just reminding myself of all the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled. “Well keep trying, you might be here a while.”

The lack of self confidence in his tone had a frown settling across my face as I peered up the handsome boy in astonishment. “Well, It really isn’t that hard. All I had to do was stare at your eyes for a couple of seconds.”

It was silent for only a second, before I stepped forward, my gaze fully meeting his as we turned to face each other. “You really are perfect to me. You know that?”

“I’m not perfect, but I don’t find it hard to believe you find me perfect, cause I think your perfect aswell.”

This had me smiling like an idiot as we both leaned forward, capturing each others lips in a smile set with love and passion, soon falling into one of love and need.

I don’t know if its just me, but recently, I’ve been needing Justin a lot more desperately then usual. It had to be something hormonal, but whatever it was, it was driving me crazy.

The kiss came to an end, leaving my slightly chapped lips pleading for justin’s as the cold air rushed of the swelling aftermath of the kiss. A whimper so slight but noticeable involuntarily rumbling from my throat. I wanted him so bad, and all it took was a kiss.

“I want you so bad.” It escaped as a whisper, appearing shaky and unstable, as if talking to loud would leave me trembling at the knees.

His eyes widened at my tone, obviously slightly dumbfounded at my sudden change in mood.

“Woah. It’s like we haven’t had sex in months, you’re really desperate right now baby girl.” Justin commented, almost in worry.

His voice had me pooling in my panties. This was not natural - nor healthy. All the boy did was talk.

“I know.” I whimpered. “I think its my birth control pills. There making me hormonal. But baby - I need you.”

In this moment, I could of sworn a flash of some sort was seen, but after a quick glance around, nothing was seen, and I had just passed it up as a reflection from the many car mirrors to far for the eye to see.

Justin’s frown of worry fell into a smirk, his face lighting up with smug lust “Well, happy girls are the prettiest girls. And I’m gonna make you elated babygirl.”

His words hadn’t even comprehended through my mind before my back had made contact with the nearest tree. His hands trailed throughout my entire body, ravaging the skin beneath my shirt slyly.

His hands left heat in its trail, even with the morning breeze. It was magic against me, magic that was too addicting to wait on. His lips began attacking the delicate skin by neck, nipping and sucking on the tender flesh by ear and down my collar bone. He knew all the places that had me weak in the knees, and once realising he effect he had on me, hoisted me into his arms, supporting my legs as I wrapped them around his waist.

One by one, our sweaty clothes had found there way to the floor, until we were both left in nothing but each others arms, grinding our hips against one another.

My wetness had his dick hard and his hard had my pussy wet. It was a cycle influenced by one another. Never ending.

His teasing had me moaning under his gaze, eyes dark and pure with lust, as I imagined his now buzz cut once long, and how messy it would be right now from my fingers. I wish he hadn’t shaved it, but either way he was hot. Hot enough to have me begging on my knees after a simple kiss.

“Stop teasing and just fuck me already!” I hissed.

My hips grinded against his in hopes that he would notice how much I needed him. He hissed, and in a sudden second, he had tightened his grip on my thighs and pressed me harder against the tree. The bark scraped and scratched down my back, leaving me with a pleasurable pain. Was it weird I found this oddly sexy?

His nails dug in to the skin of my thigh, no doubt leaving marks for memories on either side of my legs as he leant forward to press his lips in the valley of my breasts, right atop my tattoo. His kisses trailed higher and higher until my lips were aligned with his own.

My back arched a little towards him, leaving him with nothing but the contact of my skin and hardened nipples against him, the feeling leaving him groaning against me. Quickly, his eyes dashed around the area of the hiking trail, finding no one who found an interest at hiking this early in the morning before he attached his lips to my own, and slamming his unnaturally large dick inside me without warning.

“We’re back from our hike!” Justin’s voice echoed throughout the marble flooring and crisp wall panels. The cluttering of keys being placed against the kitchen island bench, followed by the shuffling of shoes Justin and I had both removed from our feet as we entered the abnormally quiet house.

That’s when the noise began, the screeching and giggling of the two children I had come to love as my own emerging from the living room and towards the two of us. Jazzy made no hesitation to jump into Justin’s arms, as Jaxo stuck his hads out for me to pick him up, which I did graciously.

“Hey champ!” I smiled, tickling Jaxons stomach.

Jaxon giggled, throwing his arms around my neck. “Hey Y/nic/N.”

It wasn’t until I glanced up that I spot Scooter sitting at the kitchen bench, his head in one hand and scrolling through a page on his macbook with the other. Pattie on the other hand stood in the kitchen, hand fumbling around with her lip as she slowly paced. Thats when I realised,

Something was not right.

“Hey, are you alright?” I asked pattied, heading her way to run her back comfortingly.

Patties eyes flickered forward in recognition, as if just realising that I was here before a small smile played her lips, but not wide enough to reach her eyes. Sadly, the moment was short lived as her smile fell into one of sadness - or pity maybe?

“Me? I’m fine. You? I think maybe you should sit down for a second.”

“Huh?”

“Both of you.” Scooter added, motioning towards the grand lounge.

Justin and I eyed each other suspiciously, both slowly making our way over towards the living room cautiously. Both Pattie and Scooter followed along, and once walking into the living room, found Jeremy seated on the single seater typing aggressively against his phone.

Carefully placing the two kids down, Justin I sat next to each other, eyeing the adult carefully as we waited an explanation. Scooter seemed scared, almost conflicted and choked up on what to say. Thats when I really knew this could not be good.

Scooter began, “Justin-…No….Y-Y/N…no. How do I say this? Well, guy’s-”

“Look! The paps caught you guys having sex this morning!” Jeremy yelled out from the corner. I hadn’t even thought he was paying attention to anything happening around him until now.

“Jeremy!” Pattie hissed, glancing towards the children.

“Wait…What?” Justin questioned, shock rippling through every word.

“Sorry Justin. But you were reckless and someone had caught you two. It’s all over TMZ.” Pattie sighed.

Justin’s once calm gaze morphed into one of panic, his body leaving the couch aggresively yelling “FUCK!” Loud enough for the kids to jump back from there game of rock paper scissors beside me.

“Calm down sweetie.” Pattie begged. Her eyes showed a form of motherly worry, but also slight fear causing me to shoot up and jump to the rescue.

My arms flew around Justins body in comfort, feeling his shoulders shake in rage. I noticed everyone else glance around the room, nodding amongst each other before all exiting, taking the kids along with them, leaving Justins and I with a few minutes of privacy.

“Justin,” I whispered against his body. “I’m so sorry.”

Guilt had flustered my body at this point, and Justin had seemed to notice that. his gaze jumping up to look at me with his eyebrows furrowed in slight worry on my behalf.

“No babygirl don’t be. This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah but If I hadn’t started it this wouldnt have happened.” My eyes had filled with tears at this point.

Justin immediately pulled me towards him, my face crashing into his chest as he hugged my head towards him. “Hey, hey. Stop. This was just as much me as it was you. I should have been more careful but there’s nothing we can do now.”

“I just wish we could go back and fix things. God I hate how nosy people are!”

“It’s okay baby girl. Hey look at me.” My eyes trailed to his, ones with hope and reassurance that everything would be alright in the end. “Listen to me, shit happens that’s just what comes with being apart of my life but we’ll get through this together. okay?”

I stood staring at the beauty in front of me, amazed how he can make me feel so secure in a time of insecurity especially after finding out half the world has seen me naked at this point.”Okay.” I agreed.

His arms pulled me tighter against his chest, voice soft.

“Good.” He responded. “And beside, I wouldn’t want to go back and change it even if we could. That Sex was bomb.”

My hand met his chest, a small clap made at the impact.

“Alright, sorry.” He chuckled. “But it’s still true.”

Psst! Leave requests.

#justin bieber imagines #justin bieber imagine #justin bieber smut #justin bieber fake text #justin bieber #justin bieber fake texts #justin bieber au #justin bieber drabble #justin bieber one shots #justin bieber one shot #justin bieber drabbles #mccann #jason mccann #jason mccann imagines #mccan imagines #mccann smut

451 notes · View notes

loosecatspen · 6 years

Text

RP.2 Ch.2 The island

Tread lightly, this one is dark

-.Ice.-

Ice faintly heard someone walking around. Strange, she didn't remember falling aslee-she got up with a start and winced when her head protested. The world was a blurry brown and green as if she was racing in the forest back in Maine while sitting down. She was off balanced and not the only one there. Zolotoy boy walked-stumbled around while trying to get a feel of the land and Ike was also on the floor but looked to be unconscious.

Is this the work of reality benders again? Or did we actually get to the mission and I just spaced the travel again? Ice wondered as she tried to focus her eyes.

The blurriness stayed to spite her. She looked up and saw the edges of a thick canopy that could only belong to a jungle. Now that she thought about it, the air did seem thicker but this was still cooler than Arizona.

Yep. Must be reality benders. Information did not detail this level of- either Zolotoy is unsatisfied with the way that he’s seeing things or he's actually losing it. Ice observed him punch a tree. He shook his hand off and went to another and punched it.

“What are you doing Zolotoy?” she finally asked.

The russian paused. “Lines are blurry, this helps.”

That doesn't sound right. Ice thought as she moved so that she was sitting upright. So-wait, why the f*** does my mouth taste like earwax?! Ice tried to get the taste off of her tongue and onto her shirt collar, but the taste persisted.

“Zolotoy I think we’ve been drugged.”

“No kiddin,” Ike grunted behind her.

She turned around. “Hey there sleepy stud,” Ice teased.

He sat up and rubbed his face with both hands. She stood and walked over to him. He kept rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“That tough eh?” she asked.

“Kind-” he looked up and past Ice. “A-are those trees?!”

“Yeah, have you not seen a tree before city boy?”

“Call me a city boy all you want but, I didn't know they can get this big!”

And I didn't know that people could get as big as you until I met you. “Have you never been in the woods?”

“There's no woods in Chicago or Normal. Tallest tree was a standalone and it was twenty- but holy f***ing quarks. I've seen tall trees in text books but I just never-” Ice had never seen this much astonishment at trees before.

“This is nothing Ground. Where I’m from you can't walk through the woods because of how big they are,” Zolotoy stated while walking to him.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Ike looked like he didn't believe him.

“Obviously since you’re feeling better, you take rear. I found a path,” Klesmolv stated while pointing to a opening in the trees. He started walking towards it when he stumbled and nearly fell on his face. Quickly righting himself, he kept going but with a rapier pointed at the ground like a cane.

How does he even store that? Ice thought as she followed.

-.Ground.-

“What are the chances that this is some reality bender’s forest?” Jo asked Molotov.

“High,” he responded curtly.

It's not. The monster’s thought rumbled through Ground’s head.

There you are you piece of s***. The f*** do you mean?

It's the work of Myunchers. You aren't even in the same dimension anymore.

The f*** do you mean by that?!

He was hit with a familiar anger and frustration from it.

Don't walk away you-!

“Cmon already Ike!” Jo shouted.

He blinked and refocused on the path that his team was walking down. The large trees surrounding the path were oddly welcoming. Their leaves coating the path in pleasantly cool shade. Which just made it more suspicious in Ground’s book. His hand fell to his side and brushed against the compact stock of his shotgun. He turned around, unfolded it, and walked backwards with it facing the way they came.

He heard a branch rustling. It increased slightly and a familiar scent caught his nose.

Smells like trouble. “Scatter check,” he ordered. He collapsed his gun before going into the brush. He paused and took in his surroundings, thankful for the uniform switch to a dark blue instead of white. The forest was much darker here. Forcing him to squint. Thick brush pressed up against his sides. Making moving stealthly difficult. Ground could just barely make out some of the bushes around him, and a female figure backing up slowly and quietly.

“Hi. Ground right?” She whispered.

Even though he had been identified, he decided to not answer and got close and personal with the earth.

“Ground? Grou- oh crap!” She backed off and started running. “Guys we have a hostile situation!”

She has friends. Need to cut her off. He thought as he charged after her. He zeroed in on her yellow skirt, the world around him falling to darkness. It ducked and weaved, trying to shake him off but, it's hard to be yellow when everything around you is brown.

At one point it went out of sight. Damnit no! He thought he tried to stop. But his speed was too great and his head collided with a tree, knocking him out.

-.Marina.-

Marina skidded around and scrambled up a tree. She hardly risked a look back as she heard him hit. Gotta get to the others. Gotta get to the others. She broke into the sunlight and headed towards the path. “Annilyse have you-”

“We’ve made contact. Where's Ground?”

“Rammed his head into a tree. Don't know what's going on with him.” Marina jumped onto another tree branch. She dangled from it before pulling herself up. “I’m heading back.”

“Okay. Keep an eye out.”

“Go shoo!” Marina shouted at a horde of monkeys. They shrieked and scolded her as they jumped away. “I will.” Marina headed down towards the base of the tree, then remembered that one one the trees had fallen. She sighed and went in the opposite direction. Hoping to find a way around. Two trees over, and she found a set of trees going where she needed.

“Annie get the others to the village. I’ll see if I can meet you there.” Marina radioed.

“Roger that. Any sign of hostile?”

“No. I’ll -”

The screams of several monkeys erupted and stopped from behind her.

“Never mind!” Marina jumped to another tree and started climbing. “I need a strike squad over here stat!”

“Melody is organizing.” Candice replied immediately. “Keep broadcasting location.” Marina felt the bottom of her earpiece detach and settle in deeper in her ear.

“Will do.”

The trees to her right started to shake and she could hear a thudding coming up behind her. Marina risked a glance under her arm to see a large, clawed hand grab the lower branches of the tree next to her. She didn't have any time to react as another hand appeared on her midsection. Marina cried out as she was yanked down through the tree top. The world spun and she was faced with a large open maw.

She shouted and splayed her hands. A large expanse of crystal sprouting between them and wedging the mouth open. The hand grew another finger and pinned her arms to her body as the head shook the crystal mass out of it's mouth.

Marina took the moment to breathe and clear her head. She didn't have long. Magic swelled around her forehead. The head snarled and the hand thrusted her into it's mouth. She screamed and lashed out at the wet flesh with a pair of crystal knives. Kicking at the top of its mouth in hopes of hitting its nasal passages. There was no effect and the hand pushed her into the throat of the beast.

-.Melody.-

There was a love-hate relationship with incidents. Love because at least something exciting was happening, and Hate for when someone got hurt. Like Marina.

Again.

“Talk to me, what are we dealing with here?” She asked, quickly handing Wolverine a metal vest.

“High intelligence, adaptability, and impossible to destroy by all current efforts. Now the last doesn't mean we can't kill it, it just means we can't keep it dead,” the russian hacker explained.

“And it took over one of your people right?”

“Correct unfortunately. Had a solid month without it intruding but...” She could tell that he was shrugging on the other side of the line.

“How do we break its grip. Wrong way Quinn.” Falcon blushed and turned his vest around.

“Prior data suggests that we have to terminate it while causing massive damage to it's body.”

“Looks like we’ll have to kill it before it can kill us. Annilyse that means you’ll have to be part of the team. Ace, how’s Marina's bio?”

“He’s whittling away at her ma’am. Doesn't seem to have an issue breathing though.” Candace reported.

“Keep me updated. Alright we have a limited amount of time.” She addressed the hastily assembled team. “We have a victim and a hard to kill reptile on the loose. Starfire, I want you and Wolverine to stall as much as you can. Help Annilyse to rip out as much of its head and upper body as possible. Falcon, keep tabs and snipe from the air. Cyborg, Phineas, Ferb. Set as many traps as you can. Just make sure they don't hurt the victim. Understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.” They all saluted.

“Alright now let's go!” Melody ran out with them. “Alright what can you and your friend do?” She asked the hacker.

“Seeing that we have our weapons limited drastically...But, I have rapier, AK-12, and dual 50 pistols. Companion has a 7.56 mm bullpup,” he reported.

“How about in way of abilities?” Melody started climbing a tree.

“Companion has decaying skin, I…” Melody could hear a muffled argument. “Have sharp shooting.”

“Alright. Tell her to go with Annilyse. I want you sniping as best to your ability.”

“Ten- vhat do you have?”

“We have an Angel who can heal and shoot fireballs. An alien who has an array of abilities such as invulnerability and immense strength. We have a cyborg, a mutant with swift regeneration and dangerous claws, finally two boys who are ingenious with machines.”

“You are planning to sacrifice children? We already tried that.”

“Actually we are quite skilled in fighting monsters. And no one will die under my watch.” Hopefully.

-.Marina.-

Slowly, the pain stopped. Marina tried to move her limbs again, only for them to feel numb. Probably not even there. She thought. Gasping as hot, fresh air was blasted in her face. Again. Why did he even preserve her like this? Surely-

Just focus on breathing Myuncher B****.

Marina cringed. That would explain why she wasn’t so hot anymore though. You’re in my head.

Breathe.

She felt it's claws close around her chest. Holding her delicately between the tips. She was no longer trapped in a sac, but unfolding to float limp in the darkness. It's claws holding her up above an empty void.

Breathe.

Where are you? I can't…

Breathe.

Can’t…

Breathe.

...see…

All energy left her. She watched the claws through half closed eyes. So big, so dark. Holding her light enough to be only uncomfortable. Her arms and legs weights on her shoulders and hips. How long? How long had she been-

The world jolted and suddenly the claws held her in a tight fist. Marina gasped as breathing suddenly became difficult. Hot, useless air. She clawed futilely at the talons as she choked. Slowly, they disintegrated around her and she was free falling.

We will meet again life Myuncher… it's voice was like a villain's caress on her cheek. Sooner than you think…

The darkness pulled away and she was surrounded by blinding whiteness.

When Marina pushed herself off of the ground and looked around she saw a dark land covered in dark metal and fleshy cones. Strange, lizard like creatures paced back and forth the area she stood in. A long path wound before her. One of the lizards stopped and looked at her, cocked it's head, and bounded down the trail. Slowly, she followed it. The path eventually became lined with teeth and fingers. The metal platforms seemed to be at war with their fleshy counterparts as they overlapped on innumerable occasions.

Someone is having a really hard time of it. Marina thought. Either that or he has a very dark side.

Whispers started around her. They were mostly unnerving babble that sounded similar to people she knew that Ground knew. Her own voice coming out in the noise. When she focused on it the words “No, please no” and “Why did you do that” repeated often and ran over each other at times.

Surprised, Marina focused on other voices she recognized. There was a few of the planetary crew saying “Monster” and “Take him down.” Dr. Gore was there, and said “Prepare to euthanize.” Marina also heard the raspy voice of Chartreuse, that bastard, order many scientific things along with devastating insults. Klesmolv was more of the same but more personal. And Ice-

“What are you doing here?” Ice asked behind Marina. The whispers quieted to a dull background noise.

“Are you real?” Marina replied, Stepping back.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Well, I guess I should ask how you got here because the gorgon, Melodi I think?, gave me an amulet that she said would let me into Ike’s ‘Mindscape.’ And I’m guessing that this is it?” she asked while looking around. “Why do I have the feeling that this shouldn't be it.”

“Well one part depends on Ike, the other on life. So it goes.” Marina shrugged. She lowered her fists and extended a hand. “I don't think we’ve had a proper introduction. My name is Mari.”

“Frankie,” she shook. “Well he sure did get rass helvíti by life. You still haven't said how you got here.”

“Well, the giant lizard swallowed me. Great way to get me to trust you guys.” Marina muttered as she turned and led Ice down the path. “He must have ‘eaten’ into me as there was this intense burning all around except my face. Kept blasting air into it so he probably wanted me alive for some reason. Anyway, he got into my head and forced me to breathe. Shown by his claws holding me by the chest. Then he took full hold of me, disintegrated, and told me “we shall meet again” before I landed here.” Marina dropped as the path wound to the right.

“Not to freak you out but, your back is missing.”

The teen paused, and twisted around to see it. Sure enough where her spine was supposed to be, there was a emptiness. The surrounding tissue was burned but it was just gone.

“Yes it is.” She observed. “Crap. That thing might have a hook in me. Be fun riding that coaster again. You had a look at my file?”

“Girl, I’m a mobile task force member, I don't have access to that. And speaking of coasters, before I got in here I was on the lizzard’s bucking spine.”

“Yeah, you haven't seen anything yet.”

“I would argue that I’ve seen a lot since I’ve joined the force.”

“Yes, but have you- have you ever been connected to a killer? One that reduces your body to a mere puppet, and replays its deeds before your eyes?” An image of Lightning appeared next to her. Code covering her as she shifted to look like Marina. The cruel, cold smile remaining. A knife held obscured in her hands.

“No and I think we should keep moving as the guy I know with the same problem feels like he’s just up ahead,” Ice said as she grabbed Marina’s left wrist and marched forward. Flipping off the illusion as it faded.

Marina allowed herself to be dragged, feeling foolish. Why was she so worried about proving herself right? It was childish and stupid. There was no reason…

She let the thought drop. “I’m sorry.”

“Look, we all have our issues but comparing them won't do anyone any good,” Ice stated as they came upon a clearing.

Strangely there was Ground laying on a sheet of metal underneath a flesh spire and another thing watching them from behind it. Ice’s pace quickened until she stood over him. He was missing his left arm and part of his chest. Ice kneeled and put a hand on his chest.

“While I try and get him up, check out that thing out back will you?” she asked.

“My pleasure.” Marina summoned a bo staff and headed towards the figure. It shrank back and hobbled away as fast as it could.

Marina relaxed her posture and expression. Using the staff as, well, a staff. “Hey, hey I’m not going to hurt you.”

It winced and tried to go faster. It tripped over it's bum leg with a yelp. Marina thrust her left hand out and it stopped in midair. “Easy. Easy…” she said. Gently lowering it to the ground.

It whimpered and Marina could get a good look at it. It was a sickly shade of grey with skin meshed with scales. It's gangly limbs were uncoordinated as it tried to crawl away from her. It was bleeding from it's open wounds on its left side. Multiple lacerations across it's back and tail festered with green puss. The right half of the head looked to have been caved in with a metal baseball bat.

“Oh...boy…” Marina approached it with her hands extended. “Uh, Ice? I think you're trying the wrong Ground.”

“The hell do you mean by that?”

“Well, in my mind there is not one me, but several. Each representing a different aspect of my personality. No matter how small. Raven’s and Melody’s are the same. Who’s to say Ground’s would differ? Besides, I distinctly remember being catlike one time.”

“What the he-”

The creature suddenly shuddered then dissipated.

“OW F***!” Ground shouted shortly after.

“Shite are you okay?”

“No, f***, the f*** did you do?”

“I, ah, accidentally slipped into your empty socket. Why is that anyway?”

“That would explain that.” he grunted. “It's hard to explain actually.”

“You can tell me later anyway, the gecko went rampant but it seems like the guys outside chased it off.”

Marina walked back around to where the couple sat.

“Really? All I remember was I ran into a tree.”

“Yeah about that. Why were you chasing me anyways?” Marina was tempted to fold her arms but decided against it. “Before you hit the tree I mean.”

He opened his mouth as if to replay but shut it in confusion. “I...really don't remember. I was walking 6, then I smelled something funny then it just… too hazy. I haven't killed anyone have I?”

“Walking 6?” Marina cocked her head.

“Rear guard, walking 6, same thing,” he explained.

“Ah. Also you might have killed me but only time will tell. Especially since Mel is involved.”

“S***, but wait. How are you here then?”

“All-destroyer gave me air for some strange reason. Fused with my spine, practically gave me life support, probably devoured my limbs but a literal bloodbath should heal that.”

“Ookay.”

“Well, it did have some pink armor this time around that was hard to get through. Gecko must’ve used you as a shield generator,” Ice nodded.

“I can- it can do that?”

“Apparently.”

“Ohhhhhh. I will probably be drained then.” Marina bit her lip. “D***. I really will need Gorgon blood.”

“Language,” Ice reprimanded. “How can blood have healing properties outside of transfusion?”

“Ask Melody. She knows all the bio stuff that goes with her abilities. I think it's part of the Medusa mythology though.”

“I haven't read any-” Ground started before the mindscape violently shook. Ice disappeared and Marina felt hands tearing at her limbs. He looked up at her before her vision went black.

-.Frost.-

I am not looking. Jack purposefully watched the upper body shrink and become more like that of a man. A large lump formed below its-his- chest. Making him look extremely pregnant.

Melody approached it with her shield at the ready. She pulled a hidden lever and blades popped out at its rim. Jack barely looked away in time, but couldn't help but cringe at the sound of tearing flesh.

“This is not good.” Melody said. Jack wandered away from the rescue group to where Klesmolv and the unconscious Ice were sitting.

“So, where are you from?” He asked cheerfully. I am going to be so busy tonight.

“Near Yekaterinburg, Russia,” he answered.

“Oh! Same country as Santa.” Jack lightly swung his staff and leaned against the tree. He glanced back at the others, and swiftly back to the Russian guy. “What's it like? I know it's cold, but how are the people?”

“Isolationist at best, wood chip at worst. Who is Santa?”

Jack sensed Pitch Black level of Emo from this guy. Not good.

“He’s a big guy who brings presents to kids every Christmas. He's a nice guy. You should meet him. Really fun to be around,” he offered.

Klesmolv looked at Jack like he was the weird one for knowing what it is. Sheesh, what a hard case. Maybe a magic snowball would- nope! Guy was blind. There went that option.

“Sheesh, are you sure you're from the same country as Nick?”

“It is very large country,” Klesmolv stated.

“Well I guess that's true. Hey how's it-” Jack caught a glimpse of Marina's mutilated body. “Ah, soooo… what do you like to do for fun?”

“Solve possibilities of interest.”

“What kind of possibilities would those be?”

“Classified.”

“Oohhhhkay. Anything else?”

“Drag racing.”

“Cool. How do they usually go?”

“Go as long as possible until run out of gas or too many police show,” he shrugged.

“So it’s a regular race. Cool.”

“We got her!” Melody called. Jack risked another glance and saw with his relief that Marina was bound up in a sheet and the big guy had been put back together. No longer looking quite as pregnant.

Ice’s eyes slowly opened, then blinked a few times. She sat up and ignored Klesmolv’s attempts to help her.

“Alright we have to move.” Melody moved quickly, Wolverine right behind. Marina in his arms. Jack followed right after, as did everyone else. He spotted Starfire beside him, carrying the man over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Somehow, she looked furious and disturbed at the same time.

“How are you doing?” Jack asked quietly.

“Bad,” she replied. “We will talk when I don't have to carry him,” she spat the last word.

Oh boy. Jack drifted towards Raven. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m fine.” Raven replied nonchalantly.

“Okay.” Jack held his staff over his shoulder with one hand and put the other in his pocket. He cast a quick glance at the sun, which was obscured by the trees. They broke through the underbrush and onto the dimly lit path. Melody led them to the fork and took them to the safe house.

Phineas, Ferb, and Cyborg looked up as they came into the building. Jack waved at them as Melody crossed the room. Not too beat up. Nice. Jack gave Phineas a high five before sitting next to Ferb. Boy, what a long day. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

-.Klesmolv.-

Klesmolv followed the redhead who was burdened with his subject into a side room filled with hammocks. She unceremoniously dumped him into one of the lower hammocks and stormed out. He walked over to the hammock and noted his condition. He was lightly bundled up in thin white sheets soaked with his blood. A particularly nasty set of gunshot wounds on his shoulder knitted themselves back up.

The palm leaves rustled and Melody came in, a cup of blood in her hands.

Peculiar, do they know that he can do that or are they just guessing? Klesmolv thought as he stood to the side. “What is that made of?”

“It's my blood, from the right side.” The Gorgon answered. “It has hyperactive healing abilities.”

If only I had my suitcase. He thought as the gorgon held Ground’s mouth open and tipped the cup. The blood flowed thickly and Ground choked a bit. He shifted uncomfortably, then began to cry out in pain. The wounds knitted up faster, leaving small indications that they were even there. He underwent many body wide muscular spasms as his healing was accelerated. Klesmolv lifted up the sheet to see that even the scales on Ground’s chest were receding.

Not only does it have healing properties, it is potent enough to counter that? Interesting. He thought as Ground fell limp. The fissure where the spliced, parasitic, scales met human flesh started to form blood blisters. They bursted and blood shot out of the many openings.

Melody brought out a cloth and quickly wiped it up. The cloth left no smudges. Melody straightened and waited. The spouts weakened then stopped completely. The arteries carrying the blood came to the surface by scale growth underneath them.

“Probability that this is an adverse reaction to the blood?” Klesmolv questioned.

“Or the the lizard reclaiming its property. That’s not good. I’m going to check on Marina.” She slipped off.

“Well that would be an adverse reaction,” he stated after she left. He felt around his torso until he found a familiar bump. He opened the small pocket and pulled out a scalpel.

“AND NO DISSECTION!!!!” Melody shouted.

“I am just removing the exposed arteries,” he stated as he preemptively touched the arm. The hand flexed but nothing above that. Good. He thought as he started on a thin artery on Ground’s pectoral. The blade went through easily and he placed the tissue onto the cloth. He repeated this process with additional looks at the vile hand to make sure that it wouldn’t kill him like all those other times. He got to the shoulder when the hand made a fist. Klesmolv stopped and watched expectantly. It opened and closed a few more times and Klesmolv took it as the chance to leave. He grabbed the material that he had removed and calmly walked out of the room.

He walked out of the hut a small ways, made a small hole with the heel of his shoe, and dropped the material inside. He covered that up with the displaced dirt and walked back inside.

No one spared a glance. Frost was still resting. Ice was explaining Ground to the redhead. The purple girl, cyborg, and the angel were talking softly among themselves. The brazilian was probably with her fallen friend, and Melody was in the large kitchen. Frying something.

“How do you feel about Tacos?” Melody asked.

“I’m fine for right now.” Not sure in a few hours however.

“I’ll make you some just in case. How do you like it? Extra lettuce? Olives? Tofu?”

“Tofu.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Alright. Tofu and lettuce it is then.” Melody pulled a square of Tofu out of her pocket and began slicing.

That can't be sanitary. He thought as he left to look for a sink.

-.Ground.-

Ground woke up with a grimace. His shoulder stung and he had a nasty case of heartburn. But besides that, he was missing the usual soreness that comes post possession. Strange. He heard faint conversations from somewhere nearby.

Maybe one of them can tell me what happened. He thought as he tried to move in an upright position. This caused the thing that was holding him to flip over and dump him onto the hard floor with a ungraceful thud. He groaned and pushed himself up off of the floor with his right hand. Aand I can't use it again. Great. He thought as he got on his knees.

The conversation in the next room stilled. He moved to a lunge when he heard people moving towards him. Hopefully these aren't tribals. He thought as he faced the doorway.

The palm fronds separated and a red headed girl in purple clothing looked down at him. Her clothes and especially her boots looked fairly modern. “Are you alright?” She asked. Her voice was sweet and ponderous.

Well she ain't tribal. “Somewhat. Bad case of heartburn though.”

“Oh. Like the kind Robin sometimes gets?” She offered her hand.

He took it. “Not sure who that is but probably.”

The girl had a surprisingly strong grip and hauled him to his feet with ease.

“Woah okay. Uh, you are?” he asked as his hand brushed the side of his thigh. And I’m not wearing pants. I’m fine with that. He thought as he readjusted so that his hand rested on his hip.

“Starfire. Ice told me you were Ground.” She deliberately focused on his eyes. “Are you...you?”

“Considerin I can't move my left hand now, yeah. Bastard always does that after I come to.”

She nodded innocently. “There's clothes under your hammock. Dinner’s finished. There are still some leftovers of you like.” With that she turned and left.

Clothes under- f*** they're covered in blood. Ground thought as he crouched down and pulled out the soaked garments. The looked like they were supposed to be white or light grey sweatpants and t shirt. He looked behind him and saw a thin sheet that wasn’t covered in as much blood. If he wanted to, he could tear off the bloodiest section and make a loin cloth out of it.

Or I can just ask for some new clothes. “Ay starfire?” Ground called. This better not be the only set they have.

“Yes?”

“Do you have another set? I apparently bled all over this one.”

“Hang on. Melody!” Ground heard cloth thump and Starfire’s gloved hands stuck through the fronds. Holding a fresh set of clothes. He stood, wiped his hands on the sheet, and walked over to the entrance. He took them and walked back a step and a half. It was a white t shirt and very light grey sweatpants. He put them on, making sure to tuck in his shirt, and walked out of the room.

A girl in all black and a purple cloaked girl looked at him. As did two boys. One with red hair and a triangular head. The other with green hair, trousers pulled up to his chest, and a face that looked a bit like a fire hydrant.

The redhead boy waved. “Hi! I’m Phineas, this is my brother Ferb.”

“My names Jack.” An icy blonde boy waved his hand tiredly. He sounded more awake than he looked. “Metal guy is Cyborg.”

“That's Raven.” Blue and black pointed at purple cloak.

“Hi.” She said monotonously.

“I’m Annilyse.” The black clothes girl said. Ground noticed a pink and purple stripe in her left bang, and a blue stripe in her right. “Melody’s in the kitchen.”

There was a collective hiss from the kitchen. Though that could have been a frying pan.

Ground spotted Molotov at a chess board, moving the pieces in tandem with his thoughts. Moving a bit too quickly to get out of the central gaze, he sat across from his friend.

The majority of the people went back to their business. A boy wearing a blue hoodie, however, got up came over to the chessboard. He had an easy demeanor and a bounce in his step. His Shepherd's staff balanced casually on his shoulder.

“Hi.”

Why does he have one of those? Ground thought as he opted to stay quiet.

He must’ve caught where Ground was looking as he playfully swung his staff. A swath of intricate looking frost covered the floor. “Ah, I didn't introduce myself fully. My names Jack Frost. Guardian of fun. Ground, right?”

For some reason, the teen struck oddly with Ground. “What’s it to ya?”

“Well just about everyone is going to be asking your name at some point or another. Figured I’d better get mine outta the way before it's drowned out.”

“Hmph.” He rubbed his chest. Man, this hasn't dulled a bit. “Do you guys have anything for heartburn?”

“I’ll che-” a pill bottle hit Jack in the side of the head. “Yes we do.” He said as he effortlessly caught it and handed it over. His hands were freezing under Ground’s.

Knowing his weight, he took three. He crushed them on his molars so that the medicine could work faster. Relief came in small waves after a minute. He relaxed as the burning sensation ebbed away. Half of him wanted to know what was going on and what had happened, the other just wanted some food. The food wanting half won with a loud complaint from his stomach.

“Alright geeze,” he breathed as he got up and headed toward the kitchen.

“He’ll get it sorted out eventually.”

The kitchen was large and smelt like taco meat. Jo was leaning on some counters facing the other person in the room.

“Hey babe,” Ground greeted as he walked over to Jo.

“Hey stud,” she smiled and got off of the counter. “Want something to eat?”

He chuckled. “You know me too well, what is there anyway?”

“Plain hamburger meat, taco sauce, chicken, and tofu. Lettuce, tomatoes, olives, white onion, green onion, and sour cream. Condiments are a variety of sauces.” The girl said. Her black hood rippling oddly.

“Do you have any large tortillas?”

She pulled a box of them out of her pocket. It was so big she could barely

hold it in one hand. “There's a lot more where that came from but it's a good start just in case.”

He took them and put them under his arm.

He gave Jo’s hand a squeeze. “Help me with the meat?” He asked.

“Sure.” She went over to the cook and got a bowl of hamburger meat. They walked out of the kitchen together.

“Clean up any messes you make.” The cook called after them.

“Got it,” Ground called back.

The table was large enough to fit twelve people easily before feeling crowded. Two of each dish was laid out, and sauce packets were in little piles all around the table. The plates were all missing with the exception of one. He set the box down next to the lone plate and gathered toppings. Jo sat across from him.

“I swear if you're going to deep throat the burritos-”

“Only one of them!”

She stared at him.

“Aw cmon Jo.”

She continued to stare.

There was a loud thumping from one of the rooms nearby. Something splashed and a door creaked open. He turned to look at the source. A side door had opened. Revealing a young girl peering out. Blood running down her black and white hair. Her face, remarkably, was clean. Her neck was far better than it appeared in the dreamscape. She peered around before the goth rushed up with a set of clothing. She passed the clothes and shut the door in one fluid motion before pressing her back against it.

“Looks like she wasn't kiddin about the bath,” Ground noted.

“She looked like the Grudge,” Ice compared.

“I can see the resemblance.” He started making his first burrito.

It was only after his sixth burrito he thought to ask, “What happened after I went into the brush?”

He heard shuffling around in the background.

“Zolotoy went right and I continued ahead. He got himself captured and I made acquaintance with Annylise. He was brought out with Raven and the Frosty teen.”

Marina sat down at the table with a large plate of chicken. She started pouring the pieces into a taco shell and loading it up. Meanwhile the cook frowned at something exposed on her back. She wore dark shades and appeared to have dreads hanging just under her hood.

“Ana heard Marina over here start to have some trouble with the gecko so we joined up with them to take it down and you up again. We were joined by Melodi and her crew. She gave me an amulet that let me into your mindscape while the others blasted away at it. I'm not sure what happened after the first trap because that's when I got into your head. So, why are there metal spires and flesh cones in your head hon?”

“I don't know, it's just been like that for the past while. I was only made aware of that particular place recently.”

“Hey Ground? Do scales replace any flesh absorbed when you turn?” The cook asked. Looking at him with some concern.

“I'm not sure what you mean. It covers more area on me if that's what you were wonderin.”

“Well, I think I need a second opinion on this.” She waved her hand for him to look. Marina's eating slowed, but she kept her gaze determinedly on the wall opposite.

He followed her and noticed for the first time that Marina was wearing a scarlet dress, which tied in the back. Revealing the majority of her spine. Through the crossing cords he could see black veins surrounding her spine.

It looks awfully similar to the first month. “You sure that it isn't just some weird brusing?”

That's odd. It kinda looks like- He compared her back to his arm after he got the splice. The patterns were similar enough to warrant concern.

“That has never happened before. Course this is only what, the fourth or fifth time this happened outside? So there is room for weird s***,” Ground stated after turning to face the cook.

She put her hand on her chin. “So he’s taking her over.”

“That greedy-” Jo started.

“Now let's not jump to conclusions! It could just be a weird reaction that goes away soonish,” Ground defended. It has to be that. It would nice to not be alone but, no one should go through this s***.

“And if it doesn't? What do you recommend doing then?”

“Pick a false god and to pray to that that it doesn't have her. And or we both don't get possessed at the same time.”

A small smirk twitched the cooks lips. “That's mighty presumptive of you to call another's gods false.”

“They’re all just superficial constructs made by people of old to explain the world around them,” irritation started to creep in.

There was a hiss from under the cooks hood. One of her dreadlocks moved. The light shining off of what was supposed to be hair. “Clearly you were unaware that you were just speaking to Jack Frost. The boy that heralds winter.”

Are we seriously having this conversation already? Ground bristled at the thought. “Look-”

“Hmm. It's using your anger as a leeway. Marina be mindful of your emotions.”

“Yes Melody.” The teen sat up and stretched. “Are you guys done yet? I’m not comfortable being stared at.”

He leaned back on the table. “Yeah. Wait, be mindful of back scratches. If it is bein a greedy a**hole.”

“Alright.” She took her plate to the sink. “It's going to be fun watching you figure it out though.”

Melody joined her at the sink. After a few soft words Marina went to the living room. The girl took a sponge and began cleaning. Her hood still rippling like before.

Ground leaned over to Jo. “Ay, is it ripplin to you?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Are we still drugged?”

“I don't think so.”

“Well s***. And I don't feel a breeze that could make it move like that.”

“Possible anomaly?”

“What the hell would that look like. Snakes?”

“You're on fire.” Melody replied. “I’m not from your dimension though. Keep going.”

The adults shared a look of “f***” before getting up. They walked together over to their last team member who was looking at the chess board with minor contempt.

“What's not computing Molotov?” Ground asked.

“How I don't have the time and the limited reports of others,” he replied.

“How do you not have the time?” He took the seat next to him and Jo sat on the other side of the board.

“Under review.”

“Apparently we got mugged along with being drugged,” Jo bitterly stated while resetting the board.

“That would explain why I don't have my- wait. Did anyone grab my shotgun?”

“Same boat.” Everyone in the room said in unison.

“Well f***.”

“Didn’t think to grab it,” Jo sighed.

“An’ I’m assumin that I can't go back to grab it. Great.”

“Well do you have any other weapons?” Marina asked. Sitting down next to her goth friend.

“Once its awake yeah. ‘Member the fire?”

“I think so. Whoever kidnapped us could have thought that counted so you might not have a gun at all.”

“No, I remember havin it.”

“Then you can go grab it in the morning.” The winged teen across the room yawned and stretched his wings. “Night all.” He headed into the room separated by palm fronds.

Wings aren't weird. He thought as he watched him go.

“I think I’ll follow Falcons example. Night.” Marina got up and headed out. She was soon followed by purple cloak, Starfire, Phineas, and Ferb.

Molotov’s head jerked slightly forward. He made a small coughing sound before sitting upright.

“When was the last time you slept doc?”

“Today was twenty first, correct?”

“No doc. You need to go to sleep. An’ just in case, because I know you, gimme your visor so you actually sleep with your eyes closed this time,” Ground held out his hand. The russian tensed in thought, then sighed and handed it over. He got up and walked over to the separating leaves. He walked with confidence into the wall next to it.

“It's to the left Doc!” Ground called.

He stuck his left arm out along the wall. He found the entrance and walked inside.

“Sooo…” Jack asked, still lounging with his head dropped behind the couch. “How are you holding up?”

“Good enough to not need sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Ice yawned. She got up from her chair and sat on Ground’s right side. He shifted so that she had more room.

“So how long have you been a reality bender?” Ground asked pointedly.

“A bit over three hundred years.” The teen shrugged, the frost on his shirt glittering as he did so.

Bulls***.

Melody roped in Jack and Anilyse to help her with setting up the table. Once all was set in the modern European fashion, she put the divided meats and toppings on the table. Melody: evening meal is ready! The teenagers looked up and headed for the kitchen. Klesmolv and Ice followed slowly, sitting next to each other at the end closest to the living room. Jack simply went to the chess board game and watched the white Queen nag her King.

Melody noticed the adults position and placed a bowl of tofu in front of Klesmolv, then she took a seat at the middle of the table. She bowed her head and muttered softly in Ancient Greek while an amiable conversation started up between Raven and Anilyse.

#fanfiction #crossover

0 notes