#itty bitty little ominous eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

host-club-hq · 2 years

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➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x reader (established relationship)

➼ summary: you've been up late lately watching horror game play-throughs... and sometimes you forget how scary they can be, even if you aren't actually playing the game. (something so tooth-rottingly fluffy and domestic for y'all :))

➼ word count: 2.7k: tiny, itty bitty drabble :)

➼ what to expect: "... what are you doing here, anyway?"

➼ warnings: blood mentions, descriptions of the horror game: poppy playtime, SPOILERS!, horror themes???

➼ this is based off the fact that i've been watching youtubers play poppy playtime wayyyy too much, and i wanted to publish something for you without the risk of forcing myself to write indeed and it not being good quality for you all :)

Pulling your blanket closer to your body, sitting up in the middle of your bed with your laptop placed before you, your eyes are trained intently on the screen before you.

You watch as a (mostly silent) Youtuber walks through the empty, ominous halls of Playtime Co with a blue hand on the left side of the screen and a green hand on the right.

You've made it past the horrifying first chapter of the game, where Huggy Wuggy wants to hug you a little bit too hard. How? You have no idea. That chapter was absolutely terrifying, and you don't know how you're not scarred for life.

You never thought being chased through the vents of a toy factory by a tall, blue, fluffy creature (with rows and rows of teeth) that looks like a stretched-out Cookie Monster would be so terrifying. But, here you are, watching the second chapter the second the first play-through was released.

Now you're dealing with a new foe who goes by the strangely innocent name of Mommy Long-Legs, who wants you to complete three games before she'll give you the code to the train to escape the factory. She's much less terrifying than Huggy Wuggy, but you've heard rumors that her chase scenes are much longer and harder to complete without dying.

The thing about watching play-throughs is that you never know when they're going to make a mistake and become a victim of the creature chasing them. Although, of course, when you're playing the game, on some level, you have a clue about when you're going to die about a split second before it happens because you know you've messed up-, but play-throughs... are far scarier.

But they also give you some sort of peace and comedic relief if they're talking through the game as they go along.

You've made it to just after the third game (after a pug/caterpillar hybrid follows you through a round of red light, green light with the addition of a complex obstacle course), where the player escapes through a window and Mommy Long-Legs is on the move after them. You don't know when she will pop up; you're on the edge of your seat.

Your blanket is wrapped around your head and pulled tight in your fists over your shoulders. The screen of your laptop creates an eerie glow and adds to the terrifying atmosphere of your dark room.

Little do you know, your boyfriend has arrived at your front doorstep and knocked, summoning one of your maids to let him in.

As your ever-reputable partner, Kyoya Ootori, makes his way down the hallway toward your room where your maid directed him, he nears your cracked door with suspicion.

He's about to knock when he hears your little shriek and suspenseful music from whatever you're watching.

"Ugh! I asked you to play fair, and you cheated! I... HATE cheaters!" Followed by what sounds like a hand banging on a wall in anger.

"y/n? What the hell are you wa-"

"AH! I promise I wasn't cheating, Mommy!" You shriek, grabbing your nearest throw pillow and chucking it at the intruder in the doorway.

"Ow! Mommy? What the hell are you doing?" Kyoya flicks the lights on to reveal you wrapped in your little blanket burrito and ready to throw another pillow in his direction.

"Oh... it's just you." You breathe carefully, placing a hand on your heart in relief.

Your video continues to play in the background, "Now... we're going to play one... last... GAME! It's called... hide... and... SEEK! ... 10... 9... 8..."

"What in the world is this?" Kyoya rounds your mattress and leans over the bed, over you, to get a look at what you're watching.

The player continues to run down the stairs frantically and proceeds to complete the remaining puzzles. You can feel more chase scenes about to ensue; you just know it.

"Is this that horror game that I told you to stop watching? Based around that doll?" Kyoya groans, rubbing his sinuses under his glasses.

"Yes... but! It's just so interesting, I couldn't stop watching." You pull him beside you on the bed and offer him some of your blankets to watch along with you.

"Oh, wait! Go turn the lights back off first, please...?" You pucker your lip in a pout and give him the best puppy eyes you can muster.

Kyoya's cheeks flush a light pink, and he quickly rises to turn them off so that you won't be able to detect it, murmuring a "fine" under his breath.

After having kicked off his shoes, he resumes his position with you on your bed under your blanket and proceeds to focus his attention on your beloved horror game.

"I promise it's not as scary as the first chapter."

Kyoya shivers to recall your detailed description of watching someone be chased through a vent by what essential is a hug monster, then recalls the image of the aforementioned 'Huggy Wuggy' that chases the player. Why are you into these things...? He'll never know.

But he must admit, it's quite endearing that you watch horror games only to scare yourself silly and come running to him. He's not complaining.

The both of you watch as the player silently makes their way down an ominous hallway after figuring out a code to open a gate. This video, in particular, is a play-through without commentary or the comforting face of a Youtuber in the corner... so it's much more terrifying.

All of a sudden, chase music sounds through your laptop speakers, and Mommy Long-Legs appears, groaning distortedly as the player quickly turns around and sprints back to the room they came from, figuring out that they needed to grab the bar on the ceiling and hide from the creature as she scuttles along the floor, looking for them.

Kyoya leans forward, appalled, "What is that thing?" He adjusts his glasses.

You pause the video at an opportune moment as Mommy is chasing the player again, her pink, gangly limbs sprawled across the screen as her terrifying smile and blacked-out eyes stare at the player; therefore, the two of you.

"That's Mommy Long-Legs." Kyoya's brows furrow as he scans over her pink face with a mussed-up, plastic-looking ponytail and pink torso and abdomen... strangely resembling a spider but with fewer legs.

"She's... horrifying." Kyoya shivers as you scoot in closer to him.

"I know. I love her." You giggle, pressing the spacebar to your laptop and watching as the chase ensues with suspenseful music and the distant sound of Mommy groaning.

This isn't nearly as tame as the other game you used to watch people play, Kyoya remembers. What was it again...? Five Nights at Freddy's? He's pretty sure that was it. This game is at least 10 times more terrifying, and he's only watched about 30 seconds of gameplay.

You peek at your screen through your blanket as your cheek is pressed firmly into Kyoya's chest for protection, jolting as the player fails to grab the bar to pull them away from Mommy as she springs out of the background and catches them. You shriek, burying your face into Kyoya's school blazer and groaning at yourself.

"Do you want to stop?" Kyoya smoothes a hand over your back and places a gentle kiss atop the crown of your head.

You shake your head, clutching your blanket tighter and returning your attention diligently to the screen.

As the video ensues, the both of you watch as the player pulls an obviously placed lever and the gears in the nearby machine begin to turn. Then, Mommy slides into the room, gaining a wince out of you, and gets her hand stuck in the very same machine. She lets out a blood-curdling scream when she realizes she's being shredded.

"Oh, god." Kyoya grimaces. You nod in agreement.

"What have you done?! He'll make me part of him! You can't do this to me!" Her screaming becomes distorted as more of her body is consumed by the dangerous machine, oddly enough, with blood spill... although she's a toy.

"Wow, I can't watch this." Kyoya groans, burying his face in your hair for a moment, allowing himself to become immersed in your intoxicating scent.

"It's over; she's dead." You tap his arm gently, Mommy's torso lying lifeless on the floor. Kyoya peeks up only to find a mechanical, skeletal hand coming out from under a slightly ajar gate to grab the remainder of Mommy's body and drag it into the darkness.

"Does this only get weirder?" Kyoya glances down at you to see your own mouth open, flabbergasted.

"And the lore continues..." you kick your feet giddily.

"I think I've seen enough; we can stop now." you pause the video and shut the laptop, allowing darkness to flood the room.

You hum as you and Kyoya adjust yourselves against the headboard of your bed, relaxing into each other's arms.

"... what are you doing here, anyway?"

Kyoya chuckles, "Well, I wanted to simply spend time with you, and one of your maids let me in. I guess you were too preoccupied to answer the door yourself." He teases, squeezing your shoulder.

"I'm sorry... I'm just so invested. It's scary, but I love it." you smile sheepishly, resting your head innocently on his chest.

"I can see that. And I will never understand why, but I guess I don't have to." Kyoya simpers down at you fondly.

"Will you stay the night? I don't think I can sleep alone after that."

Kyoya rolls his eyes playfully, "And that's why I advise against it... but I can't say no to you. But I don't have any sleepwear with me... I guess I can send for someone to deliver it..." Kyoya reaches for his phone.

"Okay." you snuggle closer to him as Kyoya shoots a quick text to his servants back home and easily gets an immediate reply; someone is already on their way.

"You know, you should keep some here... and I can keep some at your place?" You suggest quietly. You wait and gauge his reaction.

"Yeah? That's very domestic of you to suggest." Kyoya knows exactly how to tease you.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I wasn't saying no. I actually like the idea." Kyoya reassures just as a maid quietly announces herself in your doorway, presenting Kyoya with a small bag with things he'll need to stay the night with you.

"Wow, they were fast..." You marvel as he separates himself from you, bows politely to your maid, and shuts your door behind her as she leaves.

"They have their ways." Kyoya shrugs innocently, placing the bag on one of your chairs and digging through it.

"Are you going to shower?" you sit up in bed and wait excitedly for his answer.

Kyoya glances over his shoulder, teetering a bottle of shampoo in his hand to indicate his intention, "I was planning to if you don't mind."

"I certainly don't mind at all; I love the way your shampoo smells." You swoon, earning a laugh from Kyoya as he meanders to your bathroom with his products and sleepwear in his arms.

"Well, thank you, I'm flattered. I'm glad you like it because your bathroom will be smelling that way in no time." He teases.

"I showered before I sat down to watch the video, so I'll just join you in bed when you're finished." Kyoya nods at your statement, disappearing behind your bathroom door with a smile. The sound of running water quickly follows.

You leap from your bed to rummage in the storage boxes hidden away in your closet, finding just the item you're looking for-

A nightlight that you keep for occasions just like this. It's very childish in nature, but that's what makes it feel safe. It's a soft, baby pink colored rainbow with magenta stars and a smiley face on the cloud near the rainbow's end. You shove it into the outlet, and it flickers to life.

After about five minutes or so, Kyoya emerges from your bathroom in a cloud of steam as you perched in your bed, hopelessly scrolling social media. He's in the midst of towel-drying his hair when he notices the pink light in the corner of your room that breaks the darkness.

"... what is that?" he nearly snorts in amusement, cocking his head in the direction of your nightlight.

"My nightlight that will keep Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Long-Legs away." you grin sheepishly.

Kyoya sighs, "You're such a child..." He nearly groans, plucking off his glasses and setting them on your bedside table after tossing the towel in your hamper.

"Mmhm, but you love me." You counter convincingly with crossed arms and a pout.

"Mm. That I do." Kyoya kneels on your mattress, pecking your forehead, before crawling next to you in bed, dressed in comfortable sweatpants and an old t-shirt he only keeps around to sleep in.

Kyoya may have not started off as a particularly romantic boyfriend. Still, he quickly learned that your love languages are things like physical touch and words of affirmation, no matter how embarrassed you get each time he performs them. He's more than happy to do so, although he must admit at first it was a bit out of his comfort zone, but he's fallen into a comfortable routine; it's become a habit of his.

"You smell clean." you sigh, tossing your comforter over your body and wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, pressing your nose to his neck with a deep inhale.

"Are you sniffing me?" Kyoya peeks down at you.

You inhale once more dramatically, sighing dreamily, "Yes, I like your scent." you giggle, sniffing as if you were a dog trying to learn his scent.

"God, you're a pain." Kyoya teases, although his actions contradict his words, sliding an arm under your body and wrapping it around your back, holding you close to him.

"Mmhm, tell me more." You've learned how easily you can fall asleep to his deep, tenor-like voice if you try. It can fall into a soft, comforting monotone when he drawls on about his day, and although it was first seen as slightly offensive when you would fall asleep to his voice, Kyoya now knows it's nothing more than a sign that you feel safe with him.

"Yeah? Tell you more about how you make me worry constantly? And how I have to look after you?" Kyoya teases once more, watching as you nod sleepily.

"Oh, yeah, I love it when you talk like that, baby."

He snorts, "Okay, I give up. Want me to tell you about my day?" He suggests, running his long, slender fingers through your hair with caution.

"Yeah..." You yawn.

"Alright, then. Today I woke up to that text message from you at about two in the morning last night about how you were craving Italian food. I don't know why you think I'd be awake at that hour." Kyoya recalls fondly.

"Mmm." You hum absently.

"I got caught up on the week's future homework assignments after school today, though I assume you'll want to see them before I turn them in prematurely. Honestly, I'd rather tutor you than just give you the answers. But, have it your way. Dinner was casual; I just had the chefs whip something up briefly, very light. I did a bit of light reading before coming to visit you. Oh, I forgot, Tamaki called this evening wondering about arrangements for your birthday party next week. I told him I had it completely under control, but he insisted he must have some input. You don't mind if he chooses something small... like, say, an activity, do you?"

Nothing comes from you but soft breathing and the occasional hum in your sleep as you adjust yourself. Kyoya continues on as though you answered.

"I didn't think you would. You're also so conducive to him... I think it's endearing. The both of you are." Kyoya smiles fondly.

Your cheek is pressed to his chest, your mouth slightly ajar, soft puffs of air coming from between your lips. Kyoya exhales shortly in a laugh.

"Alright, I guess you've had enough of me. Sleep well... I love you." His last phrase is quiet.

"... love you, too."

Kyoya nearly rolls his eyes. Of course, you'd be awake only to say that. But that's why he loves you... all of you. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

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the-panmixxia · 9 months

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Pound of Prevention (and an ounce of cure) Chapter 1

Before we begin the fic, I would like to preface this by saying - this is my continuation of the 'A Black Cat For (un)Luck' and is also my big bang for this year! I was lucky enough to be paired up with @im-an-anxious-wreck to create some incredible art. I hope you check them out and stay tuned for the master post! (I no longer have a pc, so I'm doing all this on mobile,,, please be kind lmao)

"Oh em gee. What's a lil cutie like you doing in here?"

Virgil froze, fur standing on edge as spook quietly tilted spooks head. In the darkness of the apartment, spooks vampire roommate lurked rather ominously. The vampire that was supposed to be at work right now, shit. Had Virgil forgotten a day off, holiday of some kind? Why the fuck was Remy here!

"An itty bitty kitty~" They purred, and faster than Virgil could blink, spook was lifted by the scruff. "Where the heck did you come from? How'd you even get in? I bet Virgil let you in, knew that little shit was keeping a secret. Honestly thought spook just had a boyfriend or some shit like that. I prefer this though."

Virgil yowled in mild irritation, willing spooks body to move so spook could get out of this embarrassing hold. Remy simply smiled, showing off a row of pearly whites, along with an intimidating set of fangs. Virgil would've been intimated if it wasn't Remy.

"Spicy lil' cayenne coffee, huh? What do you want, babes?"

'let me down!' Virgil internally roared. It came out as a fierce sounding hiss, but Remy simply cooed in spooks face. Humiliating.

"Oohhh I'm keeping you. Don't care what Virgie says. You snooze, you lose. C'mon, there's some chicken in the fridge, it's time to totally manipulate your affection and make me your fave owner. Yeah. Bet cranky lil Virge never gives you chicken, huh? Criminal. Absolutely criminal."

Virgil was plonked down on the cabinets, gentle claws scratching spooks ears before wandering off towards the fridge. Spook meowed imploringly, but was ultimately ignored. Bummer. The kitten looked around, sniffing the outlet and cringing at how filthy it was. Spook should probably clean the kitchen properly in the morning, the landlord would probably blow up and evict them both if they reported another ant infestation.

Spook peered over the edge of the cabinet as Remy was preoccupied googling what cats could eat. The answer was no they can not eat fruit loaf Remy you idiot -

Hmm. The ledge was too tall for Virgil to safely launch spookself off. In human form, spook had a reputation as the perfect blend of cat and cryptid due to the uncanny ability to appear on random surfaces and within impossible crevices - though it seemed in actual cat form, Virgil was lacking.

This called for one thing. It was time to meow frantically until everyone caved to spooks needs.

Meows began, slipping out the kitten's body with ease, practically screaming with urgency. Lemme down! Lemme down, I want down!

It was effective, Remy whipping around and staring at Virgil as if the kitten had burst into song or something as equally baffling. After a second, Remy shook their head and stood up, shushing loudly.

"Shhh, no, shhh! You're gonna wake Virgil up! That little goth is deprived of sleep as it, we can't be waking spook up."

Aw. Well, that was almost cute.

"Plus, spooks such a stress head, I know if spook wakes up I'll just get chewed out for calling in sick today."

So that's why Remy was still here? Virgil hadn't forgotten their shifts. Little shit. Spook yowled in the utmost distaste, and Remy just narrowed his eyes, hands on hips.

"Don't give me that look, you crusty little feline. You gotta take a day off every once in a while, keep your boss on their toes."

Crusty? How could anyone be so cruel to a little kitten? Virgil hissed in offense, swiping tiny claws towards spooks roommate.

Remy seemed to interpret the dangerous display as an urge to be picked up, as Virgil was once again in spooks roommate's arms - thankfully the hold was no longer on Virgil's scruff and instead cradled in Remy's arms, the gentle kiss to spooks head was vastly different to Remy's usual casual affection.

"C'mon, hissy-boy, let's grab you something to eat. I'll just give ya, yup, there it is. Eat this, babes, hear cats go nuts over this stuff."

Four paws landed on a cheap laminate floor, as Remy placed both the cat and a take-away container of dry chicken down. Huh. At least it was human food? Yeah, it was certainly more appealing than the strange oat food that Virgil was fed the last time a person found spook in kitten form.

"Alright, babes! I think we just became besties, huh? Are you my best friend? I'm gonna tell Virgil I've ditched spook for you. I'm sure I'll be forgiven."

Well, at least that much was true. If Remy had brought home another cat Virgil would have been more than happy to house the little thing, but that wasn't the point! There was no way Virgil would tell Remy about this predicament either, they'd never let spook live it down. Virgil bumps spooks head against Remy's leg gently, to signal spook was finished eating.

"Aw. I guess I'll let you mooch around. Gotta get out of these day clothes," Remy tugged on their pajamas "and into something stylish. B-R-B, kitty cat."

This gave Virgil some time on spooks own, mooching around the apartment - spook never normally left spooks room during these nightly spells, but Virgil didn't realize how different everything would look from down here. Even the chipped coffee table looked like some sort of landmark.

The shower kicked in a few moments later, while Virgil was trying to scale the couch, and spook was quietly happy that spook wasn't sleeping - Remy didn't have a great gauge of how much noise they were making, and had woken Virgil up on multiple occasions.

The time alone have Virgil time to ponder spooks predicament for the millionth time. As inconvenient as this curse is, Janus really could've hit spook with something a lot more deadly - Virgil is thankful for that, at least, but really how long can the bitter mage keep this going? There is a time limit, surely. Virgil can't spend spooks entire life turning into a kitten every night like some mockery of Princess Fiona. Maybe, just maybe, Virgil should speak to Janus again. Not to forgive him. To stop this. Yeah, that was it.

It's Janus that should be asking for Virgil's forgiveness, anyway. It's totally immoral to curse your former best friend and roommate. Probably. In fact, the mage was so far up his own ass with all that philosophy crap, he'd probably go on a long monologue on how perfectly moral this whole situation is while also dressing down the idea of morality or… Something. Virgil kind of tuned out of those debates.

Yeah, no, contacting Janus would be spooks last choice. Virgil was not interested in trying to appeal to their ego again, especially not with Remus around, being a little shit and stoking the flame.

Virgil huffed and tried to find a position that was comfortable to curl up on. Being much smaller only seemed to magnify the lumps and bumps in the old piece of furniture, the stuffing underneath the fake leather was compressed into a texture resembling porridge, and still smelt like the sidewalk spook and Remy dragged it from. Vampires had advanced senses of smell, so could Remy smell this shit all the time? Are they used to it? It was so gross. No wonder Virgil burst out in pimples whenever spook crashed on the couch.

A curt knock rapped on the apartment door. Virgil froze on the couch and tilted spooks head. They weren't expecting anyone, unless Remy decided to pull a 'roommate mega dick move' and invite friends over, in the middle of the night, without telling Virgil.

The mystery person knocked again, but the shower kept running and there were no other indications that Remy heard the door. Virgil tediously jumped down, trying to utilize the powers of this strange body spook was inhabiting to listen in on clues of who this may be-

"Hey, Microsoft-nerd, we aren't knocking on doors! Waking up the neighbours is not the way to get help in feline forage!"

The voice was unfamiliar to Virgil, as was the answering voice, much closer to the door.

"I am aware of the standard procedure, Roman. However, on this occasion, I can sense a fellow vampire is inside and thus there is a high chance they'll answer the door. Though that does not seem to be the case right now…"

"Shoot, can't you use your magic vampire brain to communicate?"

"No, Roman, that only works with fellow coven members. And even then it takes an especially large bond to send comments or instructions. It's mostly feelings of visions of something - like sending the sense of danger out to alert the whole coven to a hostility."

"Ugh,whatever - just post the flyer. Patton is awaiting our return. He's cooking Madras! With venison."

"Roman we have several more apartments to visit -"

Virgil jumped back with a slight squeak, as a menacing object floated from the letter box to where spook was just standing. Once it had landed, Virgil could properly inspect it. It seemed to be a lost poster, with the words MISSING KITTEN in a bold, red font. A stock image of a black kitten graced the front, watermark pasted all over, with an arrow labeling it 'KITTEN LOOKS LIKE THIS' as well as a few paragraphs of text all around, explaining that this kitten had somehow got out of the apartment, that they were a rescue and not at an adoptable age, that they'll seek out warm small areas to keep warm and safe, and very kindly asking residents to keep an eye out. There was a whole $800 listed as reward money.

Virgil's first thought was pity, some poor person had lost a cat they'd tried to rescue, and was clearly trying their best to find the lil thing. Hell, Virgil should probably help look for it tomorrow, eight hundred could really help spook and Remy out this month.

Virgil's second thought, after briefly skimming contact information, was 'oh shit'. 'Please Contact Patton,' was at the bottom, with a telephone number, and beneath that was the apartment number. The apartment that Virgil had crawled out of when snatched by a werewolf.

Patton, that was the werewolf's name. Spook remembers the uncomfortable elevator ride where Patton introduced faemself, there's absolutely no mistaking it, Patton wasn't exactly a super common name. The two at the door were talking about a Patton as well, weren't they? One was a vampire, which didn't make sense, but was the other part of Patton's pack?

This was a lot of trouble to go through for one scrappy kitten, if Remy's theory was true.

Would Patton eat a kitten?

It's not like Virgil knows the were properly, but spook did spend a night with Patton, a night where Patton thought fae was interacting with a real kitten and therefore had no reason to be fake nice to spook. Shit, had Virgil just judged this were on event that even spook didn't think happened?

"Ooh, what'cha got, gurl? You gonna bring me my mail like a lil puppy?" A voice coos, Virgil snapping out of spooks character development to look up at an amused Remy who was perched on the arm of the stinky ass couch.

The vamp was dressed down in lounge wear, though it was glaringly obviously the 'Falling In Reverse' band shirt was Virgil's and not Remy's. Virgil stared distastefully at spooks roommate, grumpy sounds leaving the kittens tiny body. Remy glowered right back, pointing at the creature.

"Oh, you must be Virgil's pet. No one else can embody that much grumpy emo vibes. Spook has a billion tees, I'm just wearing it this once."

That was such a Remy response. Unable to roll spooks eyes at the vampire, Virgil opted to turn back around and paw the flyer once more. Over here, idiot, come read this.

Remy, for once, didn't use his vampire powers to teleport across the room, and instead took a rather leisurely stroll across the room, crouching down to read.

"Hmmm, missing cat… Is that you? Did Virgie steal someone's pet, huh?" They lifted the page closer, inspecting it with pursed lips. Remy's eyes were a very pleasing shade of red behind those shades, it was quite nice to see. Virgil moved closer, seating spookself on Remy's socked foot, and as planned, receiving a pleasant head scratch.

"Wait. Hold the fucking phone, I know that apartment, that's fucking Wolfie's apartment. Holy crap, what a psycho, he's actually putting out lost posters? Did you manage to escape his dinner plate or something?"

Remy scooped the kitten up, holding Virgil close with a protective grumble. Like a feral wolf was going to burst through the door and gobble spook up. Virgil made sure to warble out a disgruntled noise at the vampire.

"Hold your horses, puss-puss, it says here you went missing last Wednesday and that's when Virgil crawled through my window like a creep," Remy held the little body up to eye level, staring so intensely, and for a second was sure Remy was a gorgon with how still spook got. Did they figure it out? How?

"That must've been what spook was doing, rescuing you! Honestly, I didn't think Virge had enough courage to break into a were's house to steal something. Spook can't even say spooks order at the drive thru, so I'm thoroughly impressed."

Well that was both rude and awfully convenient, as much as Virgil trusted spooks roommate on matters of life and death… Honestly, Remy likely wouldn't let Virgil live it down if they found out that spook turned into a tiny kitten each night. Virgil would rather not deal with the embarrassment.

"Come on, you. I wanna watch Grey's Anatomy and I'm not letting you wander round the apartment. You'd probably piss on something."

That was rude. Virgil had excellent control of spooks bladder, thank you very much. Still, this was at least a way to watch the soap without pretending it was cringey, spook supposed. Remy draped across the god awful sofa, falling into a position Virgil had seen spooks roommate in many times, and settled the tiny body of Virgil on his chest. Since Remy didn't have body heat, it was rather like laying on a tiled floor - or having the pillow be permanently cold. Virgil decided spook liked it that way, and a gentle purr started up.

Remy's expression, still trained on the television as they searched for the show, turned down right gooey.

"You cute little thing. You're gonna love watching this, look, Meredith has just gone seeing her dad and Thatcher is there. Not British Thatcher, this one's a dude. Was in Prison Break as well, we can watch that one later."

Maybe this is why Latte ran away. Contrary to what Remy believes, most cats aren't down to sit still and watch endless sitcoms.

As the hours ticked on, Virgil tried many times to sneak away. It seemed Remy was adamant to stay on the couch all night and to keep spook right next to them. Rigorous squirming landed Virgil to be sat in a shoebox full of newspaper - something spook hadn't noticed Remy making before all this - then listening to the vampire repeat a 'potty' command repeatedly. Embarrassingly, Virgil had used it, but only once. Spooks dumbass roommate hadn't given Virgil a single drop of water.

Still pressed against Remy's cold chest, Virgil could barely make out the busted kitchen clock as it struggled its way towards half nine. Shit. Shit, Virgil was screwed.

Hissing and yowling had not worked all night, though Virgil was currently weighing the pros and cons to scratching Remy's eyes out. The vampire in question sighed at spooks dramatics, scooping the kitten up and plonking it back into the DIY litter tray. This time, Remy stood up, stretching long limbs and teasing their curls into an effortless, glamorous bedhead. Red eyes stared into green for a moment before Remy let out a loud yawn.

"You stay there, puss. I need a leak, then I'm gonna cook Virge some breakfast. Try and sweeten spook up before I ask for a feeding, heh."

Aw, that was almost sweet. In a way. Virgil was gonna enjoy that breakfast, if spook could just escape this darn box while Remy was out of the room. Huzzah! Freedom.

The box tilted over, freeing the black kitten, as spook made a mad dash for spooks bedroom, luckily it always had a jar open.

At that moment, the magic began to tingle, signaling to Virgil that time was up, but spook was nearly to the bedroom. Unfortunately, a loud 'hey!' distracted spook, turning to look at the vampire that seemed rather peeved about the cat escaping. A stagger on an uneven rug had Virgil tripping up, unfortunately the transformation completed itself at that moment, meaning Virgil's human body grew itself big enough to smack full force into the door, leaving the emo flat on the floor with a light groan.

The door was pushed with quite some force, hitting the doorstop and coming back to bap Virgil a second time. Brilliant.

Virgil sighed into the cheap olefin carpet, hearing hesitant feet shuffle around to get a better look. Spook bent spooks neck awkwardly, looking at Remy with squinting eyes. The vampire looked completely befuddled, before lips began to curve upwards into a big smile. A big, overly smug smile.

"Oh, babes. You've got some tea to spill!"

#logan sanders #sanders sides #sleep sanders #fanfic #tss fanfiction #chapter 1 #cat virgil #virgil sanders #ts virgil #big bang #writing

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ohmiiigosh · 2 years

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@mixnmuse | starter for Leo !

Two words.

Two itty bitty little words. Seven letters. Two syllables. Barbaric and simple, reserved for dumb-dumbs. Who knew that’s all it would take to drive a turtle of science to the brink of madness.

Too. Slow.

The end of a stupid ritual. Up high, down low, TOO SLOW. Donnie stared at his open palm. Metacarpus left unslapped. Hooded eyes fixated on it. It had happened nearly an hour ago, yet his hand remained in the high three position.

Leo’s taunting voice bounced around his rectangle shaped skull like an old DVD screensaver. Once it hit the corner, he had a thought. Neutrons zapping together to form a single idea.

One of revenge.

He WOULD make Leo slap his hand and give him the high three he deserved. After a week of enduring the ‘too slow’ prank, Donnie would bring it to an end. Leaving his hand up, he stalked to the kitchen and checked the fridge. Pulling a pizza box out and slamming it on the counter, he flicked open the lid. Copyrighted videogame item get sound! Bingo. A wicked grin tugged at his beak. A single slice of (EUGH) Hawaiian pizza left.

In the words of their dear team leader, the last slice was the best. Carefully plating the cold pizza, he stalked out into the main den of the lair. “ Oh dearest twin of mine! Come get this last slice of abomination. I need to clear out the fridge to store something I’m working on. ”

His open palm, the hand still waiting for the high three, was tucked behind his back. He held up and wiggled the plate of pizza to entice Leo, like one does when shaking a bag of cat treats at their overweight domesticated feline.

Just a little closer aaannnnnd . . .

As Leo moved in for the plate, Donnie yanked it out of reach, handing it off to one of his mechanic hands jutting out of his battle tech. To up the stakes, two more things popped out too, a mini flamethrower and a buzzsaw hand, both ominous hovering over the last slice. This was now a hostage situation.

“ Too. Slow. ” He sneered, words dripping with malice. The indifferent mask slipped away, revealing a wild smile with eyes to match.

“ Want it? Give me my rightful dues. ” The open, waiting palm is revealed. Give him the high three, Leo, and no-pizza gets hurt.

#ic ◦ cowabunga!#guest star ◦ donnie!#mixnmuse #(donnie having a perfectly reasonable and not over the top reaction to being left hanging on a high three)#(yep)

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themurphyzone · 3 years

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PatB Oneshot: Heartbeat

Based on @wimsiecal‘s wonderful Brain Meets Brawn AU...I might have a thing. for monsters...it’s bad...

There are some ideas from @thecutiewhoyaksandsnacks here too, namely Brain holding Pinky’s wrist for his heartbeat.

Summary: Brain Meets Brawn AU where Pinky drinks Dr. Jekyll’s potion.

AO3 Link

London was such a fun playground!

The horse-drawn carriages, the chimney sweepers, the marketplace!

And there was the lovely silhouette of Big Ben in the distance! Vaguely, he heard a voice call that he was going in the wrong direction, that he was supposed to hold the giant doohickey, that he was supposed to stop dilly-dallying and pay attention-

But why would he wanna do any of that? It all sounded so boring! He just wanted to play!

Bounding into the street on all fours, he took in the gray skies, coughing as a nearby factory spewed smoke from its stacks. No wonder the people all seemed drab and lifeless if all they had were gray skies and smoke.

They needed some fun fun silly-willy in their lives!

There was a man with long, funny sideburns walking arm-in-arm with a woman in a big, poofy dress! They were such a lovely couple, and they’d be perfect to play house with!

He bounded up to the couple, tail wagging in excitement at the very thought of having new playmates.

“Hellooooooo!” he said, and his voice was a lot hoarser than he thought. It was a lot harder to get the words out of his throat too. “Wannaaaaa plaaay?”

The woman screamed, and the man threw his arm in front of her.

Oh, did they want to scream instead? Okay, that was fun too!

He screamed right back.

The couple fled across the bridge, towards the other side of London over the Thames, shouting for a constable. Why did they want a constable? Unless...oh, the fashion police probably wanted him cause he wasn’t wearing anything except green fur.

He could’ve sworn his fur was a different color before this, but he couldn’t quite remember. Oh well! What’s the point in worrying over something like that?

The voice called again, harsh and scolding in that why-aren’t-you-doing-as-you’re-told sort of way. Too many big words. He didn’t want to hear big words. He only wanted to have fun!

Further down the road, a horse-drawn carriage rattled down the uneven pavement. The horses moved in sync, their hooves clip-clopping against stone. They were both large brown horses with white stripes on their foreheads, a short man with a pinched face driving them towards the bridge.

Horses were lovely, friendly animals. They’d play with him!

Clapping his hands with glee, he ran after them, nearly bowling over a group of children in his haste. They immediately scattered, yelling something about green monsters.

Once he asked the horses to play, maybe he could find that group of children again. He’d never heard of the green monster game before, but he definitely wanted to try it out!

The pathway was narrow, so he climbed on top of the stone archway that formed the sides of the bridge and switched to all fours. The horses trotted along at a steady pace, and he quickly overtook them, dropping in front of the carriage just as they reached the other side of the bridge.

He crouched down with his tail wagging, but before he could ask if they wanted to play, the horses reared up and batted the air with their front hooves. The short man screamed as he flicked the reins in an attempt to get the horses under control, but the horses shot forward instead, nearly tipping the carriage on its side.

He barely leapt out of their way in time, and the horses dragged the carriage past him and through the streets, ignoring the coachman’s shouts for them to slow down.

They didn’t want to play either.

Nobody did.

A raw, unfamiliar feeling settled into his stomach. It bubbled up to his chest, his entire body trembling. He didn’t like it. This wasn’t fun.

Why didn’t anyone want to play with him?

He screamed, sending an entire crowd scurrying for cover.

“That’s him! That’s the monster, constable!” a woman yelled before fainting in her husband’s arms. It was the couple who’d fled from him earlier.

A tall young man in a blue uniform broke free of the crowd, his arm quivering as he raised his billy club. His face was pale as he slowly approached. But he didn’t seem bad. Just looked like he needed to sit down for a bit.

He stretched one long arm and pushed the constable down. The constable’s eyes widened with terror, and he yelped as his bottom hit the pavement hard.

He hadn’t meant to push the guy down with that much force.

The crowd shuffled back, their whispers loud and accusing. Many watched him with fear in their eyes.

He whimpered and carefully held out his clawed fingers to see if the man was hurt. This wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted someone to play with.

Before he could touch the man’s shoulder, he heard heavy boots thunder against stone. The constable beside him suddenly shot up, nearly knocking himself in the head with his own club. A red-faced man with an equally red mustache stormed across the bridge. His blue uniform was crisp with hardly a wrinkle.

He squeezed something small and white in one gloved hand while gripping his billy club with the other hand.

“OI, GET OFF YOUR LAZY BUM AND DEAL WITH THAT CREATURE ALREADY, HENRY!” the newcomer bellowed. Henry fumbled for his club while trying to stand. As he scolded poor Henry, he lost his grip on the small white thing, who tumbled to the ground in a heap.

It wasn’t a thing. No, it was a very familiar mouse.

“Pinky?” he murmured, rubbing his large head as he sat up.

Though just a tiny voice, the fog in his mind began to clear, and he remembered things like tomorrow nights and worlds and clocks. And with all that was a name.

His name.

And another too, one that belonged to his best friend in the whole world.

“Buh-raaaaaain?” Pinky said, and it was hard to get the word out when it should’ve flowed off his tongue like butter.

And there was another word too, one that brought him much joy.

“Naaaaaarrrrf,” Pinky warbled, and it was finally a word that came easy to him. It was simple and right, like a lost friend he was just reconnecting with after being apart for so long.

Brain sighed, and Pinky giggled at his funny scowl. “Of course you’d retain your nonsensical vocabulary.”

How he could sound disappointed and relieved at the same time, Pinky didn’t know. But he was here, and that was all that mattered in the end.

Pinky gently pressed the side of his finger against Brain’s cheek. Even one finger was much bigger than Brain. He was just so itty-bitty, like the spider who climbed up the waterspout!

Brain’s face turned tomato-red. “Not in public, Pinky!” he hissed, trying to shove Pinky’s finger away from his face, though he was too small to accomplish that. He stumbled with that particular action, wincing as his hand flew to a spot just above his left hip.

Though Pinky didn’t see why he couldn’t show affection, he removed his finger from Brain’s cheek. Brain quickly glanced at the crowd, but they were much too focused on how the mustached constable was berating the younger one for not doing his job properly.

The younger constable had gone paler, if that was even possible.

Brain flicked his finger. Pinky laid his head on the pavement, turning a large ear toward the smaller mouse.

“I would’ve caught up sooner, but that brutish oaf of a constable captured me,” Brain said, gripping the outer edge of Pinky’s ear as he spoke. “He knows we’re...associates, and unsuccessfully tried to interrogate me for any information I knew about you. I, of course, gave nothing away about my plans for Big Ben. Speaking of which, we’ve been delayed for too long. No more...ow, no more distractions, Pinky.”

There was a tiny hitch in Brain’s voice. The one that always appeared if he was hurt and trying to hide it so he could move on with a plan.

Pinky stood up so quickly that Brain was left dangling from his ear, feet kicking out in an attempt to find solid ground. Carefully, Pinky brought one hand up to his ear, securing Brain in the palm of his hand before bringing up to eye level.

“Enough, Pinky. Let’s depart before-what in Ptolemy’s name are you doing?” Brain protested as Pinky gently pushed him down, using his free hand to check Brain over injuries.

He rolled Brain onto his side. He winced even though Pinky used the lightest of taps above his left hip.

There was a purple bruise, visible against the white fur.

Hurt. Brain was hurt.

Fog clouded his mind once again, and this time, it was red. The city was blanketed in a crimson haze.

Part of him feared it. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, this deep urge to hurt and maim and kill.

It was wrong. It was evil.

But the urges only grew stronger.

Hurt Brain. Make man pay. Make man suffer!

He growled and doubled over, and he felt something slip out of his hand. Something important, but he didn’t remember what.

There were scary noises coming from his throat, loud and ominous and terrifying.

“He’s dangerous!”

“Kill him!”

“No! Can’t you idiots understand you’re only agitating him?”

That last voice was the loudest and clearest of all, though it was quickly lost in the cacophony.

Something struck his back multiple times.

“Why isn’t this working?” the constable screeched. The billy club thumped against thick, green fur. But the blow didn’t hurt at all. His fur was too thick.

“S-sir, m-maybe the little big-headed guy is right?” Henry stammered. “Wh-what if you make him mad?”

But the older constable didn’t listen, though he gave up trying to break through the thick fur. His sharp gaze fixated on a small, white-furred mouse.

“Sympathizer,” he snarled, as the mouse hurled long, big-worded insults at the crowd. He didn’t notice the constable’s heavy footsteps, the raised club, the shadow falling across him-

Hurt Brain! Make man pay! Make man suffer!

The mantra once again encompassed his mind, his hand striking the pavement behind Brain just in time to block the club with his wrist. Brain leapt back at the noise, clutching his zigzagged tail close to his body to protect it.

His bare wrist throbbed, unprotected by thick fur.

But he didn’t care.

Hurt Brain! Make man pay! Make man suffer!

He roared, and the constable’s mouth opened in a soundless scream as he dropped his club. Drawing himself up to full height, he towered over the man and snatched him up by the waist. His hand wrapped around the man’s chest, claws digging into his uniform.

The man whimpered, frozen to the spot as he stared right into sharp, long fangs.

You hurt Brain! You hurt friend!

He snarled, claws tightening, pricking the man’s skin. Just a little more...sink the tips in…

The man begged for mercy.

Oh, now he’d beg when it was his own life on the line? He didn’t deserve mercy at all.

He squeezed. The man’s eyes bugged out of his head, his limbs stiff and useless.

Stop this! A voice inside pleaded. This isn’t right!

Shut up! he snarled, and the man made a pathetic, muffled noise.

He wouldn’t be weak ever again. From this point on, he’d be strong enough to protect Brain from the humans.

In the corner of his eye, someone moved. He snarled in their direction, warning them to stay back or else.

The movement stopped. But he was still being watched.

Irritated, he turned to whoever dared to interrupt.

And he saw loose, drooping ears. Unsure hands caught between reaching out and protecting a soft, vulnerable body.

A pair of rose-pink eyes that were round and wide with fear, shining with a sadness from deep within.

Pinky? A trembling mouth whispered. Nobody else heard.

The red haze tainting his vision lifted. Within his claws, the man choked for breath.

Pinky dropped him.

The man crumpled to the ground, and the crowd fearfully watched Pinky. Henry dragged the man away, several people breaking off the staredown to check the man over for injuries.

He...he just wanted him to stop hurting Brain. He didn’t mean to almost kill the man!

He tried to apologize, tried to say sorry, but it wouldn’t come out. Why wouldn’t it come out?

Why was it so hard to say anything?

Only one thing came to mind.

He ran.

All he did was hurt everyone. All he did was hurt Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky ran until he was completely out of breath. Maybe it was a cowardly move, maybe he should’ve owned up, but some instinct told him to flee before he was attacked with fire and pitchforks.

He took all the twists and turns he could, trying not to think about anyone he nearly bowled over in his path.

What’s one more person? some dark part of him chuckled.

A howl tore from Pinky’s throat, the only protest he could make from that bad, evil voice. He didn’t want anything to do with it ever again.

He came across an empty alley, surrounded by tall buildings that blotted out what little natural light trickled into the depths of the city. He could crawl into the darkness and never hurt anyone else.

It was perfect.

He collapsed on his stomach, too exhausted to move to the farthest spot in the alley. Then he tucked all his limbs in so he wouldn’t hurt anybody. As he curled his tail around himself, he felt something odd on the tip.

Did he catch it on something?

He turned to look, finding Brain balancing on the crook of his elbow, clutching the tip of Pinky’s tail against his chest. They stared at each other for a long moment, Pinky’s tail sliding out of Brain’s grip.

“Buh-raaaaaaain?” Pinky asked. His words just weren’t coming out right.

“I grabbed your tail when you fled,” Brain explained, awkwardly shuffling his feet against Pinky’s fur. He winced and rubbed his left side, where the constable had bruised him. “Um, how’s your...condition?”

“Hurrrrrrts,” Pinky whimpered. It hurt to even force that out.

Worry flashed in Brain’s eyes, and he patted the thick fur on Pinky’s arm. Pinky couldn’t feel the soothing motion at all. “Pinky, you don’t have to worry about it. Nobody’s dead, so-”

But they were still hurt because of him!

Pinky couldn’t tell Brain that. It was too long and he could barely say single words.

He wanted to thrash around, to take it out on everything he could reach, but he dug his claws into the ground underneath himself instead, letting the asphalt take the brunt of the scary anger that overtook him.

The feeling soon passed.

Brain’s ears drooped. “That was foolish of me,” he mumbled, not meeting Pinky’s eyes.

And there was silence. Pinky cried, too afraid to move. What if he hurt Brain? He didn’t bother wiping the tears away. Brain made some odd sounds, like he wanted to speak words of comfort but couldn’t.

Then he settled for pondering quietly to himself.

“Show me your injured wrist, Pinky,” Brain said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Obediently, Pinky stretched out his arm.

Through the tears that fell fast and free, Pinky watched Brain crawl down his arm and into his palm. Sitting there like he wasn’t surrounded by claws that could hurt him.

Brain carefully pushed on the bare skin, watching Pinky as he did so. Truth be told, it didn’t hurt much. Then Brain pressed two fingers on a spot below Pinky’s thumb.

“Strong beat,” Brain murmured, like he was trying to assure himself along with Pinky. “Means your heart’s good. That you’re here. With me.”

Brain looked up, and he was crying too.

Brain truly thought so? After all Pinky did?

“Heart’s...good?” Pinky repeated, carefully rubbing Brain’s damp cheek with his thumb.

“In a purely anatomical sense, of course,” Brain coughed. “And what’s more, I...I shouldn’t have put you through this.”

Brain pushed Pinky’s thumb away and slid off his hand, turning his back to Pinky, afraid to let him see his face.

“...I’m sorry.”

With those two simple words, an entire burden lifted off Pinky’s shoulders. Easier to move and breathe and talk. No more worrying about claws and hurting someone with a strength nobody should have.

Snowy white fur replaced green. No more claws and fangs. A size where he could properly wrap Brain in a hug and tell him everything would be okay.

Shedding the last of his extra height and muscle, Pinky walked up to Brain, resting his jaw against the top of Brain’s head like he’d done so many times before.

“Poit,” Pinky whispered, wrapping his arms around Brain. He was careful to avoid the bruise. “It’s okay, Brain.”

Gently, Pinky took Brain’s wrist in his hand. There was a sharp intake of breath from Brain, like he couldn’t believe Pinky was at a normal mouse’s height now. Pinky felt the skin just below Brain’s thumb, resting his fingers just over Brain’s pulse.

It was a strong, steady heartbeat.

“Good heart. And you’re here with me too,” Pinky said.

“...I’ll concoct an antidote when we get back to the lab,” Brain whispered. For once, he didn’t shove Pinky off. Instead, he turned around and nuzzled into Pinky’s chest, clutching his fur tightly like he was afraid Pinky would leave if he let go.

In the distance, Big Ben chimed four.

#pinky and the brain #brain meets brawn au #patb fanfiction #hello my mind's monster obsession we meet again

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hufflepuffhollander · 3 years

Text

fire and gasoline (mob!tom series) ch. 1: new vendetta

a/n | wooo buckle in this is a wild ride 😼 and pls share w the world! i’m proud of this one!

synopsis | Your family runs a sect of the british mafia. Tom Holland is the son of the mob leader in your rival gang. You’ve been groomed to be at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember, and a chance run-in after over a decade of feuding and secrecy has you questioning everything you thought you knew.

cw | mob!tom au. enemies to lovers. language, angst, death threats, objectification, sexual tension, and lots of spit. 3.1k words.

read the prologue, join the taglist :)

Roxy’s was your spot- it always had been. The dark alleyway entrance, the smoky air inside that concealed who you truly were, the faceless regulars that just knew to leave you be- it was everything you could want in a local bar. So, instead of somewhere a little cheerier, you chose here; instead of a glimmering club with strobe effects to blind you and music loud enough to burst your eardrums, you decided to spend your birthday where you knew you could melt into the blackness of the night and live mess-free, even if it was just for a few hours.

You had just gotten your second round of drinks with a few friends, your heels clicking from across the room as you wandered over to your table with freshly topped off shot glasses. A brand new, skin-tight black dress paired with electric blue heels adorned you, and the birthday glow radiating across your skin had you looking and feeling like absolutely nothing could bring you down. You were celebrating, you had just landed a major deal with a supplier to your casino; and better yet, you hadn’t heard from the Hollands in weeks. Since their failed attempt at taking out your father during a high-profile event, they had been lying low, full of shame. A recent victory for your family in the never-ending turf war with the Hollands? Not a single mention of Dom or Nikki thwarting your plans in days? Well, that was the best birthday present a girl could ask for.

You barely had time to feel the gin roll down your throat before the bar door was shoved open, bells tied in a knot overhead chiming ominously as it felt like a tornado had blown in. The room fell quiet, the punkish music on repeat seeming to mute itself. Even the smoke moving through the air was put on pause. Everyone was eyeballing the doorway, where two heavily armed young men stood rigidly; right behind them, a pale, muscular boy with the scent of his own ego radiating off him, a slick smile painted across his face. Every part of your body suddenly felt ice cold.

The boy took off his glasses, the sheer notion that he was wearing wayfarers at night making you groan, and coated the room with his gaze until it landed—and stayed—on you. You tried to avert your attention but couldn’t, as a wave of realization fell over you when he made eye contact. You knew this fuckwad. It was Tom Holland- the son of your rival mob, the boy your father always told you to imagine a target was when learning to sharpshoot...the one who had orchestrated the failed assassination of your dad. Your belly filled with a white-hot fire at the audacity he had to show his face here. Who did he think he was? What the hell was he doing on the East side? And did he know he had just walked into his own execution?

You would’ve seen it through, too, had he not been about to strike you square in the face with a curveball.

“We’re closed.” you heard Roxy spit out, not even bothering to look at the boys as she dried a glass.

“Doesn’t seem like it, babe,” Tom sneered, flashing her an insincere smile and focusing his attention back on you. “And anyway, we aren’t staying; I just came here with a message for the birthday girl.”

You fantasized about a knife appearing on the table in front of you so you could slice the little bitch to shreds for even daring to acknowledge you. But no such luck.

Tom whisked past the bar front, taking his time to saunter over towards your booth. You had bribed your security guard to let you take the night off- he was only there because of your dad’s doing, so he could breathe easier when you were out of his sight. But you hated feeling like a little kid needing to be babysat, especially tonight, when you were turning a year older, and paid him off to get doped up with a friend instead of coming with you. You were kicking yourself for that decision now, watching Tom come up to you without a hint of fear in his dark, shimmering eyes.

You hadn’t seen him since you were kids, when you had told everyone you were getting married to the cute boy you played with and exchanged candy rings with him in your backyard.

“My my, what an impressive array of barbies,” Tom laughed as he stopped in front of your table, swiping his tongue across his teeth. “any of you pretty things looking to blow this joint?”

Your few friends looked simultaneously revolted and terrified, and you knew they lived their lives too sugarcoated to witness the interaction you were about to have.

“Girls, you should leave,” you said, giving them a concerned stare, and it took them less than a second to get up and bolt. Some real friends you had.

You tried to remain composed as you turned your attention to Tom, syllables seething through your gritted teeth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“Aww, baby, that’s no way to greet an old friend, is it? ‘Coulda least let me wish you a happy birthday,” he sat down on the bench across from you, making you recoil into your seat. “I even have a candle you can blow, if you like.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”

“Well someone just isn’t feeling very sentimental, hmm? You remember all those years ago, playing hide and go seek in your mansion, holding hands under the dinner table...I think I remember you having it pretty bad for me back then-”

“You must have a death wish, huh?” you cut him off, standing up and advancing towards him, but taking a step back as he stood up to meet you and towered over you menacingly. He smelled like cigar smoke and cherry aftershave and it clouded your thoughts. You’d always said you’d kill him if he ever got this close to you. Why were you faltering now when it mattered most? Your heart couldn’t keep up with your head.

“No, doll. Not tonight, and definitely not in a place like this. But I gotta admit, I was not expecting you to look so fucking good after all these years. Pop had me believing you were some kind of ugly recluse. Makes it extra difficult for me to tell you to give daddy a call before your birthday is over,” his eyes hungrily flicked over you in your dress, making your blood boil. “y’know, tell him you love him.”

“The hell are you talking about?” you reached for your purse where your pistol was lodged, but felt a cold piece of metal touch the back of your head, halting your movements.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” said minion #1, standing behind you with the barrel of his gun nestled into your curled hair. You swallowed nervously and felt your heart rate skyrocket. The bar seemed to have emptied out; it was just you, Tom, and the promise of death caressing your scalp, and you had nowhere to go.

“Hey, now, Harrison, there’s no need for that! y/n and I go way back,” Tom said, motioning for his friend to lower the weapon. Deeply buried flashbacks of child you linked arm in arm with child Tom flicked through your mind, memories you had suppressed long ago.

“Love,” Tom started, advancing towards you again, leaving you nowhere to go if you didn’t want gun grease staining your head. “I’m simply hinting that you may want to get out any last sentiments before we bleed him out on his crisp white sheets tonight.”

Your eyes widened in panic, and your words came out stuttered. “Y-you’re bluffing-”

“You so sure of that, baby?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning his head in so his face was only inches from yours. “You tellin’ me you know he’s safe and sound right now? Or does an itty, bitty part of you think that maybe, when his baby girl and best insurance policy went out for drinks, it left his ass dangling out in the open, just begging to get capped?”

Your nostrils flared and your teeth were clenched so hard together that you were sure they’d break, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. You were stuck in the space of Tom as his cool breath violated your cheeks, suddenly picturing violent images of your family in a pool of blood.

Your eyebrows raised with each syllable you spoke, trying your best to conceal the incredible stress eating at you from the inside. “Get...the fuck...out of my face.”

Tom did something that almost made you combust then, swiping his thumb across the bottom of your chin, grinning, and blowing a smooch at you before finally drawing back. The sound of his lips smacking together lingered in your ears, like he not only had total control of you, but of all the soundwaves in the air.

“Look, I thought I was doing you a favor, giving you the heads up and all...I definitely didn’t have to. So if you wanna be an ungrateful little bitch about it, fine,” he stepped back, sitting down in the booth again and casually propping his feet up on the seat opposite. “don’t call him. I don’t fucking care.”

With a path to the door finally freed, you began to calculate your next move in your head, but Tom seemed to have violated your thoughts, too.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked, looking off to the door and giving a nod as minion #2 locked it into place and stood with his arms crossed in front of it like the world’s least intimidating bouncer. “You really think we’d come all this way to tell you we’re about to kill daddy and then just let you, what, leave? Run home to his rescue?” he scoffed at the mere thought, and his worker bees in black laughed along with him. Tom gave you an infinitely objectifying once-over. “Like you’d make it that far in those heels.”

“I’d like to see them off,” one of his men said, prompting Tom to violently curse at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, Harry. She’s not yours.” He was acting like some protective owner of you, which only made you angrier as you felt a dull electricity appear in your stomach.

The alcohol already in your system mixed with the adrenaline coursing through your veins made you feel fiery, out of control, erratic. You weren’t sure if you wanted to lunge at him or cry, the sting of worry pinpricking your eyelids as Tom’s smirk stayed put.

“What do you want?” you resigned, looking down and away from him, leaning against the wall behind you for support. You didn’t want to cave, but you couldn’t help it- you were paralyzed, fight or flight response warring with itself.

Tom shrugged, remaining nonchalant. “Just bragging rights, really,” he picked up an arm and ran his fingers through his tousled hair, his oversized platinum watch catching the light as he did it.

You were able to regain some composure as you responded, remembering who you were, knowing that your family could hold its own. You took a few paces forward in an attempt reclaim your pride. “Slim chance. You’d never be able kill him anyway, you pathetic excuse of a television criminal,” you spat out, seeing Tom’s expression falter just enough to spur you on. “You’re not the only one who knows things, y’know, I’ve learned all about you, too. All bark and no bite. A puppy who acts tough until he gets a paper cut and cowers under the bed.” you could feel your confidence refueling your words, and narrowed your eyes. “Maybe you were intimidating as a kid, but you don’t fucking scare me now, Holland.”

Upon the callout, Tom bolted up from his seat, swiftly pulling a handheld gun out of his belt and backing you up against the wall, barrel aimed at the perfect angle to blaze a clean hole through your head. “You little-”

Thankfully, you had friends on this side of town, and Roxy always had your back.

She tore out of the back with an assault rifle twice the size of her, firing a round of warning shots into the rickety ceiling. It shook Tom’s focus enough for you to make a break for it, running and ducking behind the safety of the bar.

“You better get to leaving before I have to mop you greasy motherfuckers off my floor,” Roxy said in her thick cockney accent, looking as intimidating as you’d ever seen her. Tom sniggered and stayed put.

“You think I’m joking?” she said, aiming at the wooden boards and landing a shot barely an inch from one of his friends’ feet.

“Jesus-!” they yelped, forcing you to stifle a laugh as you watched the scene unfold.

Three very oversized men walked out from the back of the room with their own weapons of choice to back Roxy up. Seeing they’d been outnumbered, Tom retracted his gun and looked warily at his friends, grouping up to leave the bar. He saw you backed in the corner and took an extra moment to let that cocky sneer find its way back to his face, making sure to remind you why you ran in the first place.

The group walked out unscathed, leaving behind a deafening silence until Roxy looked back at you and shook you from your trance.

“Go home, babes, and make sure your family is okay.”

As you ran outside against your better judgement, eyes locked on your car parked in the alley, an abraisive pair of hands grabbed you from behind and pushed you up against the side of the building. You recognized the sickly sweet smell of cherries and knew Tom wasn’t finished with you.

He had his arm up over your head and the other on your shoulder, evidently taking in all of your features for the first time in years.

“Time did you well, didn’t it? My god, can’t believe my little kid wife grew up to be so pretty,” his eyes sparkled with a twisted, deep desire. “We’d look good together in different circumstances, hm?” His words prompted you to spit in his face.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Ooh, a feisty little thing. I’d watch that temper of yours, y/n, you’ll make a lot of enemies talking like that,” he said in a low voice, collecting your spit from his cheek and sucking it off of his finger.

“We’re friends forever, darling. I’ll find my way back to you.” he winked at you and sauntered away into the dark. “Say hi to daddy for me.”

Your foot on the gas pedal made an indentation on the floor of the car as you sped home, tears almost blinding you from the road, making every streetlight overhead look like an abstract explosion of color. You left the ignition on as you careened into the gated entrance of your house, kicking your blue heels into the grass and sprinting inside, yelling. “Dad? Mum? Hello???”

You almost ran head first into your parents as they rushed out of the den after hearing your exasperated calls.

“y/n? What the bloody hell is going on?” your mother saw you standing shell-shocked, taking in the fact that they weren’t chopped into pieces, and pulled you into a hug as you broke out into uncontrollable sobs.

“T-they locked me in and told me they were- that you’d be dead when I got home-” you choked out in between tears, unable to calm your breathing.

Your dad gripped his tumbler of scotch with so much sudden anger that it shattered into his hand. You could see fire in his eyes. “Who? Who told you that?”

You looked up at him and said exactly what he was expecting. “The Hollands. Tom. He- he came into Roxy’s.”

“I’m going to hang that chav from his wimpy little fucking-”

“Hon, please.” your mom said sternly while motioning to you in your sorry state, making your dad’s face a little less violently red. He took a deep, ragged breath.

“Hey, sweet pea, look,” he said, tucking away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face and was clinging to your tear-streaked cheeks. “We’re okay, alright? Tonight is an ordinary night, and our security detail is the best in the city. You stop worrying and go get yourself cleaned up, mum and I have something special we want to give you.” He smiled only to steam off and slam the door to his office, most likely to make a call to get someone, anyone, that may have had a hand in tonight’s events drawn and quartered by dawn.

You came downstairs after a long, boiling hot shower that only made you seethe more at the fact that Tom had been bluffing the whole time. It had clearly just been a fear tactic, probably done for no other reason than to fuck with you on your birthday and ruin your night. He loved crafting little games like that, this being the first time he’d come to play in person—and what made you angriest is that it had worked.

“Honey, we have a gift for you,” your mom said, handing you a silver box that was much heavier than it looked. She and your dad sat on the big sofa in the den, looking at you expectantly.

“Well, open it!” she smiled.

You undid the box, hands still shaking from earlier, and found a shiny, pitch black glock with a silver inscription in its body reading “sweet pea”, the nickname your dad had given you forever ago.

“Uh, wow, I don't know what to say...” you trailed off, picking it up and turning it over in your hand. It became surprisingly weightless, feeling like it was made to fit in your palm.

“It was mine, back in the day,” your dad spoke, seeming wistful. “Had it rebuilt and shined up for my baby girl.”

“Thank you, daddy, I love it,” you said, leaning over to hug your parents. You smiled blankly as they talked to you about the gift and how special it was, nodding at their comments...but you weren’t really listening.

All you could think about was a pair of flushed lips inches from your own, an intoxicating smell lingering in your brain; and just how amazing this gun would feel in your hand right after it had burned a bullet-sized cavity into Tom Holland’s chest.

#fire and gasoline #new series #mob!tom #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #mob!tom x you #mob! tom x reader

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theateared · 4 years

Text

It’s Fine. I Can Wait. ❜

Summary: Certain things make Moxie a little less angry.

“You’re being moody again.”

Since Edgar had returned from hunting, Moxie hadn’t spared him a word. His place behind the bar was begrudging, back remaining to him as he scrubbed the surface with more force than necessary. Edgar briefly considered telling him to watch for scratch marks but promptly decided that it didn’t matter. To hell with it. People are drunk here anyway. They’re not going to notice an imperfection that small.

Still no response, he thought to himself as he watched his packmate busy himself with meaningless tasks. He flitted around the counter like a fly, cleaning already-washed surfaces, moving things slightly to the side, skirting around tables as if he’d kick up enough dust to warrant wiping them down for a second time. The Alpha barely held back a chuckle of amusement, tall form hunched over the counter as his cheek nestled into his palm.

“Moxie. I know you’re upset,” he tried again, voice light, almost sing-song, as if it was being carried by a breeze. “Are you going to speak on your own terms or should I pry until you snap? Because you will snap. Like an itty-bitty twig. Tck! Just like that.”

Briefly, his friend’s shoulders squared, though his back remained to him. Edgar smirked, head tilting against his palm.

“It’s fine. I can wait.”

All at once, the hunter whipped around and flung his rag in the Alpha’s direction. Edgar watched with an aloof smile as the material gathered air, fluttering to the ground some distance away from the counter. His eyes shifted from the spot it had fallen to Moxie’s face as his hands slammed against the solid oak that formed the bar-top.

“I’m PISSED OFF, Edgar--”

“Mhm.”

“-- this fuckin’ bullshit, livin’ here in Huron-- even if it’s only temporary, I feel like a goddamn CIRCUS ACT!” Although he was angry, he had the sense not to bare his teeth at the other lye. The last thing he needed was to provoke his leader. Quickly, he reared back, before he could make a mistake that he wouldn’t be able to rectify. “Don’t you feel STUPID? We’re dancin’ round these motherfuckers like fuckin’-- ballerinas, or some shit! It’s really gettin’ on my NERVES!” His arms extended high above his head as if he was about to scream, though all he did was stare at the ceiling for a few seconds before continuing on, leaning close. His voice dropped to a low, raspy rumble. “Do you know how many fights I’ve had to not have just to stay doin’ this shitty job that nobody wants to fuckin’ do? This shit’s embarrassin’, Edgar. Y’hear me? Embarrassin’. We’re fuckin’. Lyes. There’s no reason we should be pussy-footin’ like this.”

“Hm.” Though he hated to admit it, he harboured some similar frustration. However, the one thing he had above most of his kind was his brain. In general, lyes were an aggressive specie; they would rather fight to the death for something than work out an arrangement. Naturally, a lot of weight fell on an Alpha’s ability to defend their creed members from harm. The way Edgar saw it, it was better to minimise threats than it was to craft plans to combat them. With less enemies to deal with, the creed’s safety naturally increased.

Slowly, Edgar stood up straight, turning around and locating an all-too-familiar bottle of whiskey. He may as well have renamed it at this point - Moxie’s Kryptonite.

“Tell me something,” he said levelly as he began to pour his frustrated friend a drink. Despite the serving regulations, Edgar filled the glass until the liquid sat just shy of the brim. Putting it down gracefully, he turned back around to look at him. “How long have we been friends now?”

Moxie huffed, a hand wrapping unceremoniously around his drink, bringing it close to his lips. “Too fuckin’ long...” he muttered before downing the contents of his glass. Only when it was empty did he continue: “I don’t know. Centuries, probably.”

“And in all that time, how many times have I done something that has put my creed in jeopardy?”

“...” Whether one liked him or not, Edgar was a respectable leader. In fact, Moxie would hazard a guess and say that he was the best he could have wound up with. In his previous creed, his Alpha had been a flight risk. Though his strength was impressive-- he had once killed a band of six rival hunters single-handedly-- he’d been nothing short of a moron. His foolhardy ways had cost a lot of his own their lives. It didn’t help that his means of compensation was mating with those that remained in exchange for their silence. Edgar, on the other hand, was different. Not only did he possess a great deal of power, the way his mind worked was unheard of in their community. To him, he resembled a renowned chess player - a renowned chess player with a body count. “...’s not like I can say...” he finished lamely.

“Yes. I suspected as much,” Edgar replied, re-filling his glass. “And so with that in mind, I would implore you to have a little more faith in me.” His hand wrapped around the stool tucked beneath the counter, drawing it close enough to sit on. Slightly more comfortably, he once again leaned on his elbow, head cocked slightly to the side as he stared at the other. In a patient tone: “Rest assured, there is a reason for every decision I make. It pays to be CLEVER in this day and age, not a barbarian. This truce with Huron serves a practical function. While it continues to do so, these people are not our enemy.”

Less enemies, less trouble. That was the way the wild worked. He doubted many understood that, though he suspected he was only privy to such a thought because he had existed in a different way before this. Had the No-Mans been all he knew, he likely would have striven for brute strength and nothing more.

Moxie sighed softly. “I dunno, boss. What happened to all the fun we used to have? Tearin’ out throats, takin’ names later?”

“Don’t talk about the glory days as if they’ve long passed, friend,” Edgar tutted, reaching forward to pat his arm. “We’ll have our fun, just in the proper way, at the proper time. Like gentlemen. Understand?”

Sullenly, Moxie nodded his head.

“Do cheer up,” the Alpha continued, rising from his seat. “I have a surprise for you.”

He watched the other lye’s head incline, normally squinted eyes round with curiosity. After a moment of silence: “You know I hate surprises. What is it?”

“Ah-ah-ahh!” Edgar all but sang, ever-present smile splitting into a fully-fledged grin. He whipped around the bar like a falcon, taloned fingers resting atop Moxie’s shoulders and pulling him up to his feet. “This was the reason I came looking for you. It would be senseless to give it away just like that. Put on your dancing shoes.”

“My what?”

He didn’t get the chance to ask anything else as Edgar pushed him along.

_____

“... the fuck am I lookin’ at?” Moxie asked, eyes squinting hard at the foreign object. It was tall, and he wondered briefly how he had missed it. Edgar must have had it moved to the tavern that day while he’d been out hunting for food. It stood in the corner, arched shape casting an ominous shadow onto the ground. Pronounced decals lined its edges, a peculiar blend of red, yellow and green, and when Edgar shifted forwards to press one of the many buttons, it made a noise. Moxie’s ears stood straight up, as if startled.

“This, my friend, is a jukebox,” Edgar said, gesturing for the hunter to come closer. He did so hesitantly, eyes moving across the new object with distrustful fascination. “It plays music.” Gently, he pressed another button, the screen lighting up. The song selection jumped straight to titles that began with L in accordance to what Edgar had selected. “I figured we could use some ambience for this place. Nothing livens a scene up quite like music.”

Moxie watched with a hint of interest. Edgar knows which buttons to press already… I have to learn too. “So what, y’thought a bunch’a noise would help soothe my headaches?”

“Oh, come. Don’t be so sour! I know you love music!”

It was a strange truth, but a truth nonetheless. Lyes didn’t often have access to things like that. There was no such thing as ‘art’ when you came from the wild. The closest thing you could get to that was a fresh corpse. Nevertheless, he had heard guitars in the woods before. Ambitious campers or Edgar’s weird friend, he wasn’t sure, but the point was that he enjoyed the sound. Though he hadn’t been vocal about it, he knew that his Alpha was likely to notice. He often did, for reasons that escaped him.

What do you care? You’re the one with the power.

“Choose a song! Any song? Let’s dance the night away!”

“I ain’t dancin’. Especially not with you,” Moxie huffed, though a hand had already stuck out to toggle with the arrow keys. He recognised none of the titles, selecting one at random, seeming to jump slightly when the device began to make noise. Despite being told what it did, it still surprised him to be so close to something so loud. “Woah.”

“Grand, isn’t it?” Edgar exclaimed, spinning in a circle as if inviting him into his personal space. The hunter scoffed, moving away, though his tail began to sway without his say-so. While he couldn’t see him, Edgar gave him a puzzled kind of smile; the sort that expressed a deep confusion despite its contentment. Truthfully, he didn’t understand why Moxie was so standoffish. He likely had his reasons, but he had no clue what they were. He felt as if there was a tragic sort of distance between them, one filled with a daunting vacancy that lingered long after a stale goodbye.

Why do you refuse to have a good time? Why do you only let pleasure visit you in small, controlled doses? Why are your claws drawn around somebody who has sworn to protect you?

He watched as Moxie trudged back behind the bar, half expecting him to begin working again. However, all he did was slump against it, tail swinging from side to side like a macabre metronome; jagged point catching the lamp-light, glinting like an age-old dagger. This was as calm as he could get.

“... decent investment,” he allowed, hard stare fixed on the wall. The last thing he wanted to do was feed an Alpha’s ego. In his experience, the more you did that, the harder you fell when it inevitably shot to their head. They abused their power almost as easily as they fucked - without reason, without warning, and wholly in their best interests. “It’ll drown out these lousy drunkards’ voices a little.”

“That it will, my friend!” He was already busy flipping through tracks on his own accord, grin now eager, genuinely invested. If there was one thing he would always have room for, it was music. From the moment he’d decided that a tavern was the establishment that worked most in favour with his desires, he’d known at some point that he would invest in a player of some sort. Failing that, he would have talked to his talented musician friend about playing live on certain nights.

Perhaps I should still do that. Murr would probably be over the moon about it anyway. It would give him another distraction - and me a source of pleasure. Everybody wins.

So focused with the jukebox, he missed the slacken of Moxie’s jaw; the way he nuzzled his cheek into his palm, ears bent in the direction of the sound as his Alpha flitted through song previews, tail swish-swish-swishing like a reed behind his head. A rare tranquillity had befallen him, one that only visited people in their dreams.

You’re a weird Alpha, he thought to himself, watching Edgar’s face light up as he found a ragtime track that seemed to resonate with him. It’s almost as if you care about us.

#🞮 — if i could i'd trade my heart for a second brain. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — i get lost in the nothingness inside of me. ❜ ( moxie. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#/ idk dude i wanted to write about them #i need to do more dev stuff with both of them explaining how their bond changed from just packmates to friends #but for now you get this tiny thing #it's small and i'm not entirely happy with it but i don't think i can shape it up any more

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gale-gentlepenguin · 5 years

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Dark! Paradox AU After about a few weeks/ a month of being away from home, knowing she'll never be able to return (the fact she stayed implies to her that nothing else but her and Alix survived, and that the cure only affected the new timeline), wants to assimilate into this very similar world by any means. And they're really only one person keeping her from her friends, her family, her entire life. After all, they're fully the byproduct of an akuma, they're not a real life.

Bridgette becomes Darkinette. (Lets ride this twisted idea)

(Dark Paradox)

_______________________________________________________________________

Ladybug arrived on the roof of the abandoned building. It was late that night, and even though they were in the city of Paris, the lights seemed much dimmer in this part of the city.

“I am glad you could make it.” a voice similar to her own called out.

Out of the shadows stepped a red clad heroine that looked just like her. It was her alternate timeline self.

“Hey, so you said you had some news about your timeline. Did you figure something out?” The present Ladybug asked with optimism. The heroine of this timeline did her best to accommodate her alternate self, but it wasn’t as if she could let her step in as a second Marinette. People know that there are two people not from their timeline, the alternate Ladybug and the Alternate Alix Kubdel. So if a second Marinette suddenly appeared, ladybug’s identity would be revealed. She had been staying at this place belonging to Fu, the old man that was guardian of all the Kwami.

The other ladybug smiled, but something felt off about this expression. It was something unfamiliar, Ladybug couldn’t figure it out.

“I found a way to get my life back. It just didn’t realize how to do it until now.” The other ladybug answered.

“Thats great… but what do you have to do?” Ladybug questioned, her body taking a step back, as if sensing something very wrong.

“I just need to get rid of one little thing, and I get my life back. Just a small itty bitty, teeny tiny bug.” Her other self described as she took a step forward, and using her hand to emphasize how small the issue is.

“Like an akuma?” Ladybug asked as she got into a fighting stance, her tone still hopeful that maybe she was interpreting her alternate self’s words the wrong way.

“No not a butterfly….” The red clad copy of Ladybug said as she started spinning her yo-yo. “a Ladybug!”

Ladybug’s eyes went wide as she watched her doppelgänger charge at her. The other her was doing everything she could to hurt her. She was swinging her yo-yo with deadly precision, Ladybug could barely block and dodge her attacks.

“Bridgette…. Please stop this! Are you akumatized? I can help you break free.” Ladybug pleaded.

The other ladybug shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter if I was. This world is a byproduct of MY actions. If it wasn’t for me, you would have been doomed to repeat the horrid fate that occurred in my timeline. This is just the aftermath of an akuma. This alternate world is simply a creation of an akuma. So why not just live my life here. Why must I suffer in a world I saved. This is should be my world! This should be my Paris. This should be my life! You are the residue of the akuma! The one who stole my life! So I am gonna take it back.”Bridgette roared. “And don’t call me that! I am Marinette. THE ONLY MARINETTE! I will get rid of you once and for all.”

The alternate Ladybug managed to knock down Ladybug. She used her yo-yo to wrap around her alternate self’s neck. The red heroine choked as she tried to get the yo-yo off.

“Shhhhh…. Its okay little akuma. Soon you will be purified.” The other ladybug whispered in an ominously innocent tone. She took off the pinned down heroine’s earrings.

Ladybug had transformed back into her civilian self.

“Farewell.” The dark Ladybug said just as she prepared to end her other self’s life

“Cataclysm!” a voice whispered behind the angry alternate ladybug. She felt something cold touch her back.

She looked to see a black clad hero had placed his hand on her back.

“Chatton….” The alternate Ladybug whispered in a mixture of surprise and hurt.

Chat noir watched as she turned to dust and blew away in the wind. Leaving only the miraculous that belonged to Marinette.

Marinette managed to breathe and looked up to see the sorrow filled cat hero.

“I… I didn’t…” The blond haired teen hero fell to his knees looking at his hand.

Marinette jumped to him. She held his head in her chest, holding him tightly. She knew how much Bridgette had meant to him. How much this hurt him. This was not something that could be done lightly. Chat noir had done something that could never be forgotten. But Marinette would be there for him. It would be something that they would keep to themselves.

(Thoughts?)

#ml #ml au #dark paradox au #paradox au #miraculous ladybug au #miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain Cheng #ladybug #chat noir #bridgette #ml angst #death

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tigerlilynoh · 6 years

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If you’re taking prompts I’d love some sam and ruby (job and family verse) in any way shape or form

Sorry that this was a little delayed. I got this prompt while I was still waiting to get my bar exam results and dealing with commencement (and the ensuing intoxication). Here’s a little Sam & Ruby (J&F!verse) for you. Hope you like it :)

Sam came home from helping a few coven members construct a greenhouse on the far end of camp. It’d been a long day of moderate physical effort and more than a little telekinesis. He wasn’t entirely convinced that the weight of the objects being moved with his powers directly corresponded to strain, but the heavy loads of wood and glass had taken a bit of a toll on him. So when he walked in to see Ruby quickly shift positions, to stand with an awkward false-casualness, he was immediate on his guard.

“Okay, so don’t freak out,” Ruby told him, evidently seeing the concern on his face.

“Oh no, who broke what?”

“Nothing’s broken,” she ominously replied rather than assuring him that everything was fine. “You know how you like dogs?”

“What does—“

A raspy-squeak of a bark came from Kaylee’s bedroom. There was the scratching sound of tiny claws scrambling across hardwood floors, followed by two young children running. Before he could react, the most unusual dog he’d ever seen was charging through the doorway into the living room.

The puppy was just over a foot tall, had comically-large goblinoid ears, big eyes that dimly glowed red, and massive paws that gave it a clumsy gait. Its joints had blunt, black spikes sticking out of the skin, causing Sam to involuntary compare them to Malek’s spikes. Black fuzzy fur coated its grey leathery hide.

Kaylee and Anansi giggled as they chased the dog, meanwhile Tom strolled after them, more cautious of the new spectacle. Anansi attempted to hug the puppy, but lost his balance and tripped. The boy saved himself from a hard impact on the hardwood floor with a tiny burst of his juvenile telekinesis, then was promptly tackled by the puppy, who seemed to be unrelenting when it came to licks.

“Is that—is that a hellhound?” Sam asked, barely able to process the possibility.

“Her name is Nibbles!” Kaylee excitedly informed her dad as she hopped up and down.

“I wanted to talk to you before this got out of hand,” Ruby said apologetically to Sam. “Crowley and Kay gave her to them when we were down there earlier. Apparently, this puppy was too docile for the breeders to keep. So Kay suggested we take her.”

“Nibbles?” Sam repeated the ominous name, while watching the itty-bitty hellhound playing with his three-year old son. It took a significant amount of willpower to not pick up his two youngest children and hold them out of the puppy’s reach.

“Because she doesn’t break the skin when she bites. She nibbles.” Ruby explained the name. “Part of why the breeders didn’t want her.”

“Right.” Sam nodded to himself. “Not mauling people is a character flaw.”

“Supposedly they’re really easy to train.” Ruby continued her implicit pitch.

Sam hated to imagine the methods normally used to train hellhounds. If that sort of discipline was necessary to keep a hellhound in line, then he wasn’t prepared to do what was necessary to make it work— oddly adorableness and puppy-appeal be damned. He leaned in close to Ruby and whispered, “I don’t care how easy it is when their trainers hit them. We aren’t in Hell. This is different.”

“I’m not saying that we—“ She lowered her voice while in front of the kids. “—put her on the puppy-rack. I’m just saying they’re really smart. It might not be as bad as you think.”

He watched his kids playing with Nibbles for a few minutes. Even Tom was warming up to her, going so far as trying to teach her how to fetch a ball rolled across the floor. The puppy bounced around, too excited by all the things to play with and too many directions to run in. In her eagerness to do everything all at once, Nibbles tripped over her own feet and tumbled into a fuzzy heap.

Sam’s stomach knotted at the thought of where she must’ve come from compared to a house full of toys and kids who wanted to play. He eventually told Ruby, “first sign of aggression, she goes back.”

“I completely agree.”

The pair of them sat on their too-small couch and watched their kids play with the puppy for a half hour before she began running out of adrenaline—or whatever equivalent hellhounds had. Nibbles came over and lay down on Sam’s feet. The puppy’s fur had the texture of felt. She rolled around on her back, causing her floppy ears to smack his ankles. Sam reached down and picked her up. Despite her fatigue, she wagged her long skinny tail back and forth, then squeaked a bark at him.

“I used to be scared of you,” he quietly informed the hound.

It was hard to reconcile this almost-cute creature with the haunting beasts that had killed his brother years earlier. He supposed that everything started somewhere, often enough with a fresh start. Hopefully, nurture would be found to win out over nature.

“To be fair, she isn’t nearly as intimidating as her sisters.” Ruby pointed out.

“Aren’t they invisible?” He decided not to mention that it was a characteristic of hellhounds’ status as an apex predator.

“Just on Earth.” She corrected. “The charm on her collar makes her visible.”

Sam examined the charm for a moment, then reconsidered the fact that her paws were almost as big as his palms. “How big do they get?”

“Kay once told me that her brother rode one when he was younger.” Ruby smiled innocently before guessing, “Maybe about four feet tall?”

He put the puppy down on his lap. She walked in a circle before plopping unceremoniously on his thighs. The ridge of spikes along her spine made him hesitant to pet her, despite the fact that they weren’t sharp. Instead he scratched her chin, earning a few licks of appreciation.

“I think she likes you.”

After dinner, Sam went to go take his customary walk around the camp to clear his head. He was strolling along a secluded stretch of the lake when he heard the brush rustling nearby. Without looking he knew it was the hellhound. It startled him a bit to realize that he could sense her presence. Though she was an Abyssal and his affinity for all things Hell surely extended to its other creatures.

She scampered out of the grass, then ran around in front of him for a bit. He wasn’t sure whether to try taking her back to their cabin since she was so young and had no idea how most things worked. Though in the camp he didn’t have to worry about her running into the street. Some small part of him worried that she might run off into the wilderness and then he’d have accidentally unleashed a feral hellhound onto Earth— God knew another Abyssal species appearing on Earth would go over great with the humans and Heaven. He tried patting his leg to get her to come to him, but she didn’t seem to know that gesture. Though he really panicked when she noticed a skunk about thirty feet away and started trotting towards it.

“Nibbles, stop!” he told the puppy in Abyssal. To his surprise the dog held still and looked back at him. She patiently waited for him to do something. He glanced around to make sure that no one else was in earshot, then continued in Abyssal. “Come here.”

Nibbles hurried back to him, then circled his feet. She got up on her back feet and started pawing his legs enthusiastically.

“Do you speak Abyssal?” he said, unsure if he was asking her or musing aloud. He’d never heard of hellhounds as being described as exhibiting humanoid levels of intelligence, so they probably were the rough equivalent of a dog. But that didn’t mean that she could’ve distinguish between languages, of which Abyssal was undoubtedly the most familiar. He scratched her chin as he thought for a few seconds to try to figure out how to translate a phrase into Abyssal, then told her, “You’re going to be a good girl.”

That night, after the kids had gone to bed, Sam and Ruby snuck off to their bedroom while Nibbles was dozing on an armchair. They both changed into minimal pajamas, then climbed into bed. Sam had hardly gotten the blanket the way he liked it when the sound of scratching and whining started coming from the other side of their bedroom door.

“If we let her in, she’s gonna want to come in every night,” Ruby noted. “Full grown, she’ll be bigger than me.”

After a few more whimpers, Sam got out of bed and opened the door. Nibbles ran into the bedroom, hopped onto the bench at the foot of their bed, then onto the bed itself. While she was busy licking Ruby’s face and excitedly wagging her tail, Sam made a little dog bed out of spare pillows on the floor.

“Down,” Sam told the puppy in Abyssal. Nibbles gave Ruby one last lick then leapt off the bed with an ungraceful fwomp. He patted the dog bed, calling her over. When she settled in it he gave her a little scratch behind her floppy ear as a reward. Once the hound was sufficiently subdued, he crawled back in bed and spooned Ruby.

“She’s gonna need a bigger bed.” Ruby pointed out.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

The next morning, Sam woke up to find Nibbles stretched out, sleeping between him and Ruby. The puppy’s big, goofy paws moved around in the air, hinting at some kind of dream involving running.

“This isn’t what I meant when I agreed she should get a bigger bed,” he halfheartedly complained.

Ruby scooched her way up and around Nibbles in order to kiss Sam, then said, “Mr. Rogers-meets-Master-of-the-Abyss, have fun training your first minion.”

#fic request #job & family #sam x ruby #Sam Winchester #spn ruby #deleted scene: Aftermath #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam and hellhounds

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penpursuiits · 6 years

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“Why?” He looks to this itty-bitty propped against his knees. Ideally, in a perfect world, Louis would think that she has her mother’s eyes. Well, the way her mother’s eyes once were. Like when she first got off the bus: out of the country and suddenly thrust into a whole new world. Big, wide and brown: eyes were tinted with innocence but overall packaged in wonder. But Shyla does not have her mother’s eyes. They’re big, but only big because she’s still a little kit-cat. The shape of her eyes are different… there’s even a richer darkness they hold. Yes, occasionally in the right light Shyla’s eyes shine and gleam but, there’s never a moment where the setting sun could hit the orbs and suddenly showcase some warm coffee shade. Shyla has his eyes. Those squinty little eyes that have her look as though she’s always doing something. It’s accurate, far more accurate to say she has her mother’s mind.

Louis finds his answer without deep thought. “Not everybody’s going to like you.” Such a claim holds many meanings. Some would hate her because she’s a girl. Some would hate her because she’s a black girl. Sometimes you can’t make people like you in general. These people don’t necessarily matter, in Louis’ mind but, it’s nonetheless important for Shyla to know. Now, this was not necessarily INTRODUCTION TO RACISM & PREJUDICE 101 as much as it was a topic of her grandparents. “Why?” Louis could gasp! There’s the same word for a third time in a row! Why? Because they thought she was sinful. They didn’t look at her and get the sense she was a devious little thing who wrote on walls and held a presence so ominous that Slick and Sly dashed under the bed the minute she came into the room. No, Shyla was born into a world of sin – she was born through sin – she was sinful. But Louis didn’t, couldn’t, explain that to her. “Because yo’ mama’s parents are a part of the elite.~” “El-ite.” A line develops over her brow, the word is repeated with puzzlement. “Yes, young Shyla, the elite. Every day they meet and greet the same man.” His right hand captures the nearest book, his thick thumb rolling over the pages as he would do a fresh wad of money. “Praising the same man’s words. And discussing other topics, that he – and they, made up their selves. So they have a fine time, they and the man.” He puts the book back on the end table, “And people who thought the man was a sloppy writer? They go bye-bye.” “What’s the book?” Louis thought he would never call on the Lord’s name but, here he is. His legs begin to shake. He hopes the sudden movement would diminish Shyla’s curiosity for each word coming out his mouth. Yet, it’s only he is who snickering, the tot. If anything, is enraged by the bouncing; “Where can I geddit?” Did she just try to hit his leg? “I wanna geddit!” “They only sell it to the elite.” He explains with that same cool calmness, though on the verge of having laughter whistle and weasel out from clenched teeth. “And didn’t I tell you? Not everybody’s gonna like you, girl.” “They’ll like me!” “What?” “I can make ‘em like me!” She repeats, bitter as ever. Sometimes she wants to spend a whole twenty-four whopping hours asking why in-between tantrums. Other times, he’s off-guard when she says things like this. He wonders how she’ll be when grown, handling rejection of any sort. If she’ll calm down and hold indifference or, still feel as though if you don’t like her now, you’re going to like her later. Louis chooses to laugh, his thick finger dabbing at her nose. Like a puffer-fish taking a hit, her cheeks flare. “Not with no attitude like that.”

#( IF YOU LOVED ME SO MUCH THEN WHY'D YOU LET ME GO. / FATHER. )#( SHEILA NOT SHYLA / ADOLESCENCE. )#( this is old tbh. written earlier this year )#( DRABBLES. )

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scruffandyarn · 4 years

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Chapter 2: The Child

@stevieharrrr

What is this adorable...ok, nevermind

I know people are thirsty, or whatever, but the gait of this mofo is not smooth...is he top heavy or something, is it the metal plates on his legs

Hello little friends

BABY YODA

Dun dun dun...something is moving

Good job shoving baby out of the way

Why don’t you both jump out at the same time? Like why give him a chance to recover?

Dude...if that weapon disintegrates, why the fuck did you not use it on the blurrg before?

Oh shit, there’s more of these mofo hunters after the baby?

Ouch. Jfc cauterizing is no bueno. That shit...but...you’ve clearly had no medical training, why are you not at least getting the clothes out of the way? You’re going to seal...omg

Bug eyes...see, even the baby knows you’re doing it wrong

Squinty Yoda-hand...please don’t touch it…

Did you just….the same cauterizer thing….tetanus shots for everybody!!!

Aww teef

Does everyone just shove kids in closed spaces? The therapy they’re all gonna need after this

How does the ball thing know to follow him? And how is the kid not getting motion sick?

Wtf is that thing?

He has an extra sight? For why?

Where the fuck is the baby ball thing?

Are they using tin-cans and a string to talk to each other?

Evil laugh is evil

Oh, there’s the baby ball thing

That was not a weak ass fall

Is he dead...nope, just resting his eyes

Baby Yoda is sad

Did you know all your shit’s gone? Is this karma for killing all the aliens just protecting the baby?

Dark puff of smoke...yeah, you’re done

Baby Yoda smiles?! How can you be mad?

Wow, you’re not dead...way to go

Stripped, dumbass

He just full on swallowed a fucking toad...jfc, more tetanus shots

Oh, he speaks their language? Talk shit about him! Do it!!!

Weapons are your religion….like white conservatives?

Off-roading for eggs

Why does the baby need to go with you...no one else is, clearly this is gonna be some shit

Ominous cave is ominous

He has a headlight

Oh shit, eyeball

That is a big-ass rhino

Mud-wrastlin

Oh, so that’s how he gets the baby ball to move

You gonna die

Stay down dumbass

Grabby hand

Wtf

No, dude, that is clearly NOT you

Oh no baby!!!!

That itty bitty knife...no fucking way

Do you have some sort of electrical current? Why do you keep sparking?

Whew, baby

That poor rhino was just trying to protect her baby, you fucking monsters

Why is the egg hairy?

Mother fuckers

Bitch, what’s the hold up?

Damn, they made off with a lot

What do you not understand? Baby Yoda waved his hand, the rhino thing floated in the air, you made an excellent rag-doll, but otherwise were useless as fuck, until you stabbed it with your tiny little knife

Bitch, stop being useless

It’s time for a mother fucking montage!

Did you really...please tell me that took more than a night

I’ve heard of southern hospitality, but this is hella ridiculous

Man, it’s always the people who have suffered the greatest who are the most kind at heart

Did the baby die...wtf...ok, whew, jfc

#they call me mellow yellow #scruff watches #the mandalorian #chapter 2 #I might have gagged a little with the cauterizing #just the unsanitary conditions #and the possible infections #not gonna lie #my skin crawled a bit

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darkspace7 · 4 years

Text

Mutualism

"Two lonely souls in an empty room strike up a conversation to reminisce about the days gone by and eventually come to an understanding." [Part 2 of "Elpis"]

Words: 5,700+

Rating: T

A/N: This piece is a continuance set in the same verse as my prior fic "What Lay Within" of which is set in an alternate bad-end future ten years post canon and explores the dynamic between Shinichi Kudo and his teenaged apprentice Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya as the two attempt to navigate their lives after the fall of the Black Organization.

Contains some mentions of past/implied character death, (established) Hakuba/Aoko and Ayumi/Genta going on in the background, and our boys just generally having a bad time.

I dedicate this fic to my old laptop computer who managed to carry both me and my writing along for the greater half of eight years before it finally beeped it's last boop. My old friend, what with your cracked screen, half-broken spacebar, and semi-functioning usb ports will never be forgotten.

Detective Conan/Magic Kaito (c) Gosho Aoyama

The chatter of the crowded reception hall faded to the background as the teen shifted his awareness inward. 'Alright, I recall them mentioning they would be around here somewhere...' He stared out at the sea of unfamiliar faces that swam in and out of his vision from his little bubble amongst the crowd. 'So where...'

"Mitsuhiko-kun!"

His head swiveled to face the direction from where the call emanated and not a moment later he caught sight of the beaming pair that had flagged him over. With a smile he wove his way through the throng of well-dressed bodies to reach the massive spanse of window. "Forgive me if I made you two wait for too long but I kind of ran into a bit of trouble attempting to locate you through well-" He gestured out to the sprawl before them, "-all this. But I must say, the view from this spot is rather exquisite." The teen gave an appreciative glance to the manicured garden that lay just beyond the panes of glass.

"Oh don't trouble yourself too much about it. The fact that you were even able to come at all is what really matters. Isn't that right Genta?" A somewhat pointed look was leveled at the larger teen who nodded in response.

"Yeah. Took your sweet damn time too. Thought you'd never get your ass over here." The snorted comment made around a forkful of cake earned a sharp retort from his partner.

"And whose fault would that be? If a certain somebody had stayed over where he had promised to wait instead of getting distracted by some slices of raspberry-lemon cake then maybe he wouldn't have had to come looking for us."

Another bite disappeared into his maw as he shrugged, "They were gonna run out if I didn't 'Yumi. Totally worth it if you ask me." He gestured to the stocky teen with his utensil. "'Sides not like he cares, right?"

Ayumi's response to this was nothing more than an utterly flat look aimed at the teen. "Genta-"

Having sensed the ominous turn in the conversation, the freckled teen cut off the soon to be diatribe with a shake of the head. "No, no! Don't worry, like Kojima-kun said, it isn't that big of a deal. Really." Mitsuhiko tacked on at the sight of her dubious stare. "Anyway..." Quickly, he sought to drag the conversation's flow into somewhat different waters with the hope that it would distract his friend from her ire with the crass teen.

"I've been meaning to ask, are you entirely certain it is alright for me to be here with you guys?" A touch of hesitance flavoured his tone as he cast a slightly nervous glance around the room. "I mean it isn't as if I received an official invitation after all."

"Dude, chill. Back when we were still bringing stuff in I went and asked Aoko-san if my girlfriend could tag along and she seemed cool with it then so she probably wouldn't mind if another gatecrasher got tossed in the mix." The rotund teenager shrugged, "And if anyone does say anything –not that they're gonna– we could always just vouch for you." He made to spear another bit of confectionery with his fork only to have it return sans cake. At the noticeable lack of dessert on his plate he pulled a face and went on, "Besides don't you know the groom or whatever?"

"Huh? What? O-Of course!" He shook his head slightly, flustered. "Ah well...sort of? Not exactly, I know of him but I don't know him. N-Not to say I don't want to know him someday because I do. Very much." The teen froze a beat before heavily palming his heated face with a grimace, "Wait, no, that sounds…urgh." He held up a hand, "Just…give me a second."

One slow breath in –hold it– then release. Alright then, let's try this again. "Most of the information I've gathered concerning Hakuba-san is from prior case files as well as a few accounts of those who actually have had a chance to work with him. But I, myself, have never had any interactions with the man, yet. Does…Does that make any sense? So not necessarily a no but more of a… kind of?" He finished lamely, dark eyes drifting to the carpet as a dusting of red tinted his cheeks. How embarrassing.

(Though perhaps it was a good thing that, having long been party to his somewhat spastic displays, neither teen so much as batted an eyelash at this behaviour and simply moved on with a nonchalant half-shrug and a muttered "close enough".)

"Say Genta..." The girl turned to her partner, presumably to ask him a question or something of that nature before suddenly; she stopped and narrowed her eyes, head tilting to the side ever just so.

"…What?" He shied away a bit, somewhat startled (and mildly unnerved) by the set of blues now focused so intently upon him.

"Ah…You have a little bit of something…Hold on, let me get it for you." She began to rifle through her bag in complete disregard to the other's protests.

Previous embarrassment willfully forgotten in favour of this new bit of intrigue, the long familiar urge to just sit back and watch how things unfolded welled forth unbidden. And he allowed it; having settled back against the glass to tune in for the latest episode of his favourite show.

"Hey h-hold on just a minute! Ugh, here we go again." The teen groaned in mock exasperation, "Just because there's an itty-bitty mess every now and again doesn't make it so you have to go all forensics on us 'Yumi. Seriously, there's really no need to go digging through that thing." He said as he eyed the handbag with the same level of wariness as one would give a particularly vicious wild animal that was keyed to go off if one even dared to breathe wrong in their general direction. Which, knowing some of Ayumi's more experimental trinkets... wasn't an incorrect assumption.

"Oh, you sure about that?" She drawled, having finally located and tugged free her handkerchief (an older pastel number that seemed to have been worn soft from use) from where it had lay and went to work. "I mean, what with how you're always such a huge mess around those sweet treats." A teasing lilt played at painted lips as she tapped the solitary remnant of his sugary dessert. "Dear."

"Come on." He sputtered. A vibrant streak of red lit up tanned features as he seemed steadfastly determined to look anywhere but young woman before him. "That's just unfair." Genta grumbled with a slight whine.

"All's fair in love and war Genta, all's fair." She hummed a bit. And then frowned, "Oh for the love of...would you just hold still?" Her cheeks puffed out a bit in a pout. Tenderly, she swiped the cloth against the spot in order to collect that errant crumb. "Honestly, putting up such a fuss over a tiny piece of frosting. And...There!" She smiled triumphantly. "All gone." With a giggle she leaned up and pressed a quick peck to the tanned cheek. "Now was that so bad?" She stepped back and watched as he sputtered then proceeded to flush an even deeper shade of red.

Mitsuhiko ducked his head and turned away, valiantly attempting to fend away the smile that had threatened to form. It was always nice to see his two closest friends happy together and genuinely just enjoying the company of one another. But even so, he could not help as the smallest twinge of something settled deep within his heart. That feeling –despite its briefness– had successfully run its course, sapping away at the happiness until it was nothing but a ghost of its former self. Quickly, he fought to stave off any inkling of this from bleeding into his features lest anyone catch sight and ask him what was wrong. After all, no one wanted to be that guy at a wedding.

Exhaling slowly, he allowed himself to fall back into that familiar detached calm that had served him well in his tenure as detective. A practised eye trailed over the forms of his friends, absorbing the information present and storing it in the back of his mind for a later date. 'It's almost second nature by now,' he mused, 'to look upon something and be able to piece together a functioning narrative from every seemingly inconsequential bit and bobble scattered about.'

Even now he couldn't help but observe. Small things, such as how Ayumi's outfit appeared to be some sort of variant of a halter-neck tulle dress that meshed quite well with the black bejeweled clip pinning back her hair, or how the tiny price tag that clung stubbornly to that bag of untold horrors marked it as being from that small family-owned boutique that was less than fifteen minutes away from their current location, or even the fact that Genta had somehow managed to sneak in those fashionable sunset toned sneakers along with formal outfit that that his partner had no doubt coerced him into wearing; all of this and more was crystal clear to his inquisitive gaze.

...As was the fact that the young couple had apparently become so enamored with one another they seemed to have forgotten his presence entirely. Great. 'Nothing like seeing your two best friends making out with one another to further cement your status as the awkward third-wheel...And, yep. They're still going at it. Well, this is uncomfortable...' The youth let his attention drift out towards the reception hall in the hopes of finding something –anything– to distract himself. And not a second later it appeared as though he managed to find it in the familiar form of something –or rather– someone.

'Huh? Isn't that...Sensei?'

And indeed it was. The great detective had stationed himself between a set of secondary entryways and looked to be about as comfortable with everything in the crowded room as Mitsuhiko himself felt at the moment. He took note on how the other's gaze remained fixated upon something off in the distance, although as for what exactly was unclear. What was clear, however, was how the elder man seemed –for lack of a better word– distracted. No, not distracted. Troubled. But why?

Carefully, the teen traced the line of sight to its end which appeared to be a small table ensconced away in semi-private niche toward the front of the room that was now populated by both the new bride and groom. The man, who he knew to be Habuka-san smiled brightly at the woman in white (who could only be none other than Miss Aoko) as they carried on what appeared to be a rather engaging conversation. Every now and again a mustachioed man (presumably the father of the bride) would interject and earn a smile or a round of laughter from the table's other residents.

'Maybe something to do with them perhaps?' The brunette contemplated this as they carried on for a bit. Curiosity peaked when he saw the older man get up from the table after exchanging a few more words with the groom then a reassuring smile aimed at the pair as he took his leave, presumably to take care of something.

'Could something have happened?' He wondered, before quickly dismissing the notion. Neither party appeared to be overly concerned judging by the gentle looks of love the newlyweds sent one another and the genuine laughter of their peers so it was unlikely that there was something out of the ordinary there. 'So something else then?'

Confused, he turned back again just in time to catch sight of the bride as she put her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort, the gentle movement shifting the veil away from her luminous face and...oh.

Oh.

It was as though the air had been knocked from his lungs as a pool of something ice cold sat heavily in his stomach. Dark eyes quickly shifted back to their original target and he hissed through his teeth when flicker of something pained and familiar and unspeakably private flitted through those darkened blue eyes. And then just like that he was gone, having slipped back through the door without a trace.

And then suddenly, Mitsuhiko was moving.

He wove through scores of guests, transfixed on the spot where he had seen the other disappear. So focused to the point was he that it almost brought about a collision with another partygoer which only a quick-timed twist did he narrowly manage to avoid. "Sorry!" He tossed back as he caught a fleeting glimpse of dark hair and surprised garnet eyes. All of which were quickly dismissed and allowed to slip to the back of his mind.

(And while normally he would not be so rude as to do a thing like straight up crash into people and speed off without so much as a by-your-leave his civilities had, for the moment, been set aside in favour of more pressing matters. He would, however, in time find himself recalling this fateful moment and the cascading series of events that were to follow. But that was another story for different time and different place.)

Having reached the entry he stopped in his tracks. The lobby was, for the most part, empty. Understandable seeing as the majority of guests present were either inside enjoying the festivities or traipsing about the garden. This vacancy should have made it relatively easy to spot the wayward detective but as it stood he couldn't see hide nor hair of the man. The teen glanced about a moment before he lit upon a group of bridesmaids chatting off to the side. Perhaps they could provide some manner of clue to Sensei's whereabouts?

"Ah excuse me." The group's chatter petered out as they turned to regard his approach. "Sorry to interrupt but by chance have any of you happened to see a man come through here just now?" Exchanging a glance, they shook their heads.

"Sorry. We just came from the restroom where we were fixing our makeup. So even if there had been someone we couldn't tell." One of them spoke, a small frown on her face.

"Ah wait!" Another piped in. "But wasn't Momoi waiting for us out here though?" She and the others turned to the bespectacled woman expectantly. "Right?"

"Aah w-well..." She stuttered, feeling somewhat awkward about suddenly being thrust into the spotlight. "Um actually...I think there was a guy that came out through that door right there. Just a few minutes before you did."

"Did you see where he went?"

She thought for a second then nodded. "Mhm. I think I saw him headed towards the stairs."

"Thank you." Mitsuhiko tipped his head appreciatively before setting off once again. 'Wait for me Shinichi-san.'

(DCMK)

While the teen could not exactly be called unfit (thanks to many an hour spent idly pitching baseballs around after school) the run up had still managed to knock the wind from him so he leaned back against the doorway and took a moment to catch his breath. As it slowly steadied he allowed his gaze to wander.

Like its sibling below, the room with which he was now faced had been built to a mirrored scale with an identical colour scheme and general overall design, but it was there where their similarities came to an end. For while the former had been grandiose and richly festooned for momentous occasions –such as the one currently being held– this place carried itself with a somewhat more muted and almost lounge-like air. To the teenaged detective it was almost as if someone had pulled back the curtain on a set that had been half-built so there was nothing else, save for the empty stage in which they now stood.

Which made sense, he supposed, seeing as this room wasn't actually supposed to be in use right now. Although, if the shadowy figure parked firmly over by the bank of glass or even his own presence were any indication this little bit was to be ignored, if only or the moment.

'Though if this is to be the stage would that make us the actors, then?' He mused. 'Shame I haven't a clue as to my lines.'

"Took you long enough."

"You knew." It wasn't so much of a question but rather a flat statement. Wryly shaking his head, he pushed up and away from the doorframe and made his way over to the man's side. He smiled, "I should have figured. So what was it that tipped you off? The reflection in the window-" A tip of the head toward the glass and the faint twinkling of city lights beyond it. "Or was it the echoes in the stairwell?" He hadn't exactly been quiet.

"Neither." He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "At the reception hall I felt you watching me from across the room. You weren't exactly being subtle." He gave him a dry look.

Ah, that was right he had almost forgotten. The man had always seemed to be able to sense whenever he was under the object of scrutiny without fail. And while it made sense, all things considered, for the other to posses such a trait, that did not make it any less eerie.

"Ah, sorry." He flushed slightly. "I just didn't expect to see you here. To be honest, if it weren't for those two I wouldn't even be here myself."

"I considered it, seeing as I wasn't able to make it on time for the wedding." At Mitsuhiko's inquiring glance he elaborated, "Case at the station platform. Guy was stabbed in the back and had it made to look like robbery gone wrong, killer turned out to be the guy's flatmate who was pissed at him for sleeping with his lover behind his back."

"Ah."

"Yeah." He sighed, "But even after all of that I thought I might as well go ahead to drop off their gift as opposed to spending any more hours on the train. Besides, I had already traveled all this way and I figured I owed that to them at least. Wasn't like this night was going to get any worse right?" A snort of derision escaped him and he let his gaze fall to the side. "Honestly, I might have been better off staying at home." And although the other couldn't see it, he could hear it the softening of his tone.

Mitsuhiko shuffled awkwardly on the balls of his feet, unsure as to what he could possibly contribute without the high probability it backfiring spectacularly. Thankfully he was spared of chance when the other startled him from his reverie with a bout of nasty coughs. "Hey, are you okay?"

"H-Hold..." Shinichi wheezed out between sputters. "G-Give... me a-" He held up a hand, grimaced, and tried again."...Yeah...I'm fine..." Once the fit had subsided for the most part he managed a wan smile. "I'm fine." He repeated, stronger this time. "...Hah...Sorry I've just been a bit under the weather, nothing serious mind you but just a bit of holdover from before. It's been making me kind of irritable lately. Don't worry about it."

The teen's expression showed exactly what he thought about that little statement. As a fellow detective -no- as his friend there was no way he was going to let him play this off. Any of it. "Are you really though?"

"Huh? Yeah like I said it's nothing, probably just another cold-"

"That's not what I was talking about." The other zeroed on him with that razor focus, a touch miffed at being cut off. The scene from earlier flickered in his mind's eye and yet again he found himself faced with those haunted blues. He shook his head to rid himself of the image. "Back there, in the reception hall..." Though he began slowly –hesitant– his voice gradually gained traction as he went, "You had this look about you. As if... As if you had seen a ghost or something right before you just straight up and bolted. That doesn't exactly scream 'everything's alright' now does it?" Dark brows knitted together in concern as he finally lifted his head to meet the other's stare head on. "Shinichi-san, can you tell me what's wrong?"

Shinichi regarded him for a number, that knife-like gaze which made a score of weaker men crumble bored into the very fabric of his being; sorting through his thoughts and actions until nothing but the truth remained. Yet where suspicion and mistrust were expected there was only the honest worry of a kid who wished to know if he was alright. "Unbelievable..." He muttered.

With a resigned air he scrubbed a hand over his weary features. The lines of tension in the teen's frame and quiet set of his jaw was not unfamiliar sight for the older man and he knew then and there that the other simply wasn't going to drop it until he had come to an answer. It was a trait that he found both honourable and vexing in equal measure and ultimately what caused him to sigh.

"It's just-" The words seemed hard-pressed to leave his lips, as if it physically pained him to do so and for a moment Mitsuhiko felt a twinge of regret. Perhaps it would've been better if he just had let sleeping detectives lie but before he could voice this the elder had managed to work through the knot and spoke, "Just...when I saw the two of them together –saw her– I just...I couldn't help it. I didn't think that..." He stopped, a noise of frustration left his lips as a hand raked through once tidy hair. "She looked just like she did back then. Before..."

Mitsuhiko winced. "...I'm sorry." And he truly meant it. "How long would it have been now?" He asked softly.

"Two years this May."

"It isn't easy is it?" Taking the silence as a note to continue he went on. "Dealing with the ache and sorrow and all those other things that you don't even have a name for yet can't help feeling; of every little thing reminding you about them to the point it becomes downright maddening..." Fists clenched at his side, little crescent moons dug into the soft flesh of his palms. "O-Or even just the knowledge that you will simply never be able to see them again." Dimmed eyes sat upon the horizon as the rueful ghost of a smile flit into place. "The whole lot of it just...sucks."

"B-But." He swallowed. (When had his throat become so dry?) "But then...you find that no matter how terrible it all gets and how unfair everything seems the world just... marches on." No, seriously, what the hell was he even saying at this point? He just kept going off the top of his head but for some inexplicable reason he just...couldn't seem to stop. So he didn't.

"All the days and months and years just keep on ticking by and then all that s-stuff starts to get covered up by other stuff and then you s-start to n-notice that-" And there came the crash. Dark eyes clamped shut as he stalled with an inaudible hiss.

('Easy now Mitsuhiko, easy. One slow breath in –hold it– then release...There isn't anyone else here right now. It's okay. You're okay. Breath, just breathe.')

So he did. One right after another, over and over again; just breathing. And the impossibly tight coil that had progressively wove itself around his airway seemed to constrict for moment before it suddenly reversed and the tension that had laced his frame had little by little begun to bleed away with every passing breath.

"Y-You notice..." He began again once he had sufficiently calmed, "That while that pain and sadness isn't exactly gone and probably never will be it..." The teen let out a shaky chuckle as he reopened his eyes, "It doesn't hurt as much as it did before. You know?"

A light of comprehension dawned in Shinichi's eyes and a look of pitied understanding ghosted briefly across his features. "Ah...that's right. Your mother, didn't she...?"

Mitsuhiko nodded with a vague noise of confirmation. It had been over a decade prior, yet he thought back to that time he could recall it with the utmost clarity. Back to that damned phone call and whirlwind flight that followed, to when his father had finalized the decision to pack up and head overseas with him and his sister in tow without so much as a by-your-leave, of finally learning why: that his mother had been caught in a accident when visiting extended family abroad and that the doctor's prognosis was grim. The months of waiting and waiting and hoping that she would get better and be able to come back home with them. How one day she just simply...wasn't there anymore. And how everything just sort of...went completely downhill after that.

He had been only a child at the time but that didn't mean that he didn't remember. And he said as much.

"...Back when we first moved those two would call me all hours of the day, you know?" He shifted, folding his arms across his chest. "And you want to hear something? They liked to talk about you guys all the time."

"That so?" The other perked up, seemingly intrigued by this admission.

"Mnh always used to sound so happy over the phone when they did too. Spouting things like 'Shinichi-niichan came over today while we were at the Professor's and how cool it was that he showed us how to solve this locked-room trick' and ' you know how Ran-neechan knows karate and stuff? Well I asked her to show me some of her moves and we wound up totally flipping this one creep...' That sort of thing." A fond smile graced his lips. "I must've cost my dad a fortune in international calls."

"Oh! Don't even get me started about when Kojima-kun started with his cooking lessons." He groaned in faux-anguish. "All he messaged me for months were pictures of the food and stuff that he tried to make." He shook his head.

"I remember that." The elder detective chuckled reminiscently. "He honestly was quite terrible. Eel should have never been prepared that way..." He intoned with a faint shudder. Although the teen really had came a long way since then the fact that whenever the boy went to cook something the only things that ever seemed to come out right were pastries and sweets continued to baffle him to this day.

"Yeah. But you know back then...being able to listen to their stories, to hear about how you, Ran-neesan, Haibara-san, and everybody else were doing...It was nice. It helped...quite a bit, actually." A short beat. "Even if you guys did get in way too much trouble. Really, the amount of cases the Shonen Tantei had back then simply by just hanging around you bordered on the realms of ludicrous-"

"Oi."

"-and while I'll admit that I don't put much stock in superstition I can sort of see where that whole 'shinigami' rumour circulating around Division One came from and honestly if it weren't for that 'curse' I don't suppose any of us would have learned proper crime scene etiquette." He continued to mutter. "Or how to handle a dead body for that matter."

The teen glanced up to find an indescribably flat look aimed his way. That lasted a few seconds before a more contemplative one slid into its place and once more he was faced with the detective's unnerving stare. "So you really were the one who went through my stuff." He stated apropos of nothing.

Mitsuhiko started. Because –seriously– what the hell? Apparently this reaction was confirmation enough because the other just shrugged with a disarming nonchalance that had alarm bells going off immediately in the teen's mind.

"I mean-" He casually went on, "-seeing as if an outside source had ever decided to attempt to enter my study without my knowledge I would know and that two out of the three people that currently do have access to my home would have the neither the inclination nor opportunity to do so and since the time frame seemed to sync up it only serves to further paint you as the culprit..." He shrugged once more with that faux indifference. "Plus you just pretty much gave yourself away."

And oh wow was he upset wasn't he? The taught lines of tension that faintly coursed through his frame, belying the calm air he put upon himself. The teen could almost feel the other's silent accusation at the perceived betrayal and damn if that didn't sting. Well it wasn't as if he hadn't seen this coming. After all, it had only been a matter of time before the hammer fell and he had brought it down upon himself with that thrice-damned curiosity of his so by rights he was going to have to own up to this mess. (And if he had to drop down to his hands and knees to grovel for the other's forgiveness then so be it.)

"I'm so sorry. I was just trying to pick things up a bit when you got sick that one time but one of the files got knocked to the floor. I really wasn't trying to snoop but..."

"But you're a detective and curiosity got the better of you." He suddenly sounded so tired it made Mitsuhiko want to cringe and shrivel up inside himself just a bit.

"I'm sorry." He repeated faintly, feeling absolutely awful about the whole deal. Short of massive head trauma, there was nothing he could do that would be able to take back what he had seen in there and the knowledge that came with it and they both knew it. And it was with this thought weighing heavily on their minds they fell into an uneasy silence.

"..."

"...So."

Mitsuhiko shifted slightly. "So?"

"You probably have...questions, right?"

"...I'd be lying if I said that I didn't." The admission seemed to make the man sink a bit but it wasn't unexpected. "But!" He ploughed on ahead, "You know? I'm not going to ask." This seemed to draw Shinichi up short as he shot him a sharp glance.

"...Why?"

'Why indeed.' No, he knew why. It was because...

"Because..." His arms dropped down to hang at his side. "Because even though you may be my mentor you are first and foremost my friend Shinichi-san." And between friends there must be at least some measure of trust or else the relationship will crumble. Even he knew that. "You have your own very good reasons for not wanting to talk about any of that. And I'm not going to force you to. But-" Dark eyes met startled blues. "-just so you know, if you ever do need to talk to someone, well...don't forget that there are others willing to shoulder those burdens along with you okay?" They held one another's gaze, each party searching for something unspoken in the other and after a moment it seemed that they found it.

"...Thanks, Mitsuhiko-kun." A tentative smile.

"Don't mention it. I won't." Lips quirked up in a shy but earnest grin. "I mean, what kind of detective would I be if I didn't know how to keep an open mind and at least a modicum of plausible deniability?"

"A pretty damn terrible one. That's for sure."

"...You know," Mitsuhiko started, drawing the man's attention back once again. "I heard they just opened up a new branch of that café we liked. This one's supposed to have extended hours and a bunch of new location-specific desserts on their secret menu. So...You don't think they'll mind a few particularly well-dressed patrons, do you? What do you say?"

Truce?

"I say we better hurry before those two lovebirds finally notice you're missing." He cracked a mischievous smirk back, "Besides, it's your turn to pay this time."

Truce.

#DS7's Log #-Carefully adds to The Archive-#DCMK Fanfic #[ Elpis ]#Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya #Shinichi Kudo #D: Swearing #D: Character Death (Mentioned)#There are a few other characters here but they aren't really the focus...

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xivu-arath · 7 years

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merry christmas @ghostfxce! you asked for a compilation of marvel heroes shenanigans and thus I like. tossed all our memes and most feared moments in a blender. I know this last year was super rough on you and I’m really proud of the progress you’ve made and I hope once the update finally actually happens that we can continue mocking the mutate voices and dying to ridiculous holo-sim waves

“Maybe I should catch one for you, then!” Green Goblin jeered. “Could make a good Christmas present. Send you a little itty bitty Brood hatchling as thanks for this delightful vacation.”

“ANY GIFT YOU MAKE WILL JUST BE ANOTHER MARK OF CORRUPTION ON YOUR DAMNED SOUL. ...WOULD BE NICE, THOUGH.”

“YOU KNOW, I LIKE THE BROOD,” Ghost Rider said, stepping over a burning corpse of one such member of the species. Agent Smith followed a little more at a distance – burning psychic insect smelled bad, and was killer on even SHIELD-issue boots.

“I think that’s... kind of a first. You usually talk like you hate everything you fight.”

“WELL THAT’S WHY I’M FIGHTING IT. HELL IS ALWAYS IN NEED OF MORE SINNERS.” There was a pause as, ahead of them, Green Goblin dropped a series of bombs on everything. The explosions briefly lit up the expansive caverns, revealing warped stone and more scuttling insects. “BUT THE BROOD DO NOT ACT OUT OF SELFISH, HATEFUL REASONS. THEIR PREROGATIVE IS TO SPREAD, AND THEY DO THIS WITH PURE INTENTIONS.”

“By infecting people,” Smith pointed out, and didn’t quite cringe as their companions made their way back. He had more or less gotten used to trailing a demon of vengeance with a good fashion sense when it came to leather. The occasional company of Green Goblin and the symbiote following him around was... a little too much. Why were they here? How many times had they broken out of jail to follow them around? Why was Ghost Rider not just fighting them on sight?

He was so tired.

“THAT’S WHY THEY’RE DEAD.”

“Maybe I should catch one for you, then!” Green Goblin jeered. “Could make a good Christmas present. Send you a little itty bitty Brood hatchling as thanks for this delightful vacation.”

“ANY GIFT YOU MAKE WILL JUST BE ANOTHER MARK OF CORRUPTION ON YOUR DAMNED SOUL. ...WOULD BE NICE, THOUGH.”

“Chill their bones and heat their blood!” the Dark Elf commander snapped, sounded just a little bit panicked at the sight of not only a burning skeleton but one of Asgard’s princes waltzing up. “For Svartalheim!”

There was a brief scuffle as a squad rose from the shadows and hurtled at the pair. Brief, but not exactly quiet – by the end, their corpses were scattered everywhere, some blackened by hellfire and others neatly cut to pieces, or pinned by massive shards of ice.

“Impossible,” the commander gasped, sagging to his knees. “They must be using... cold iron....”

Loki looked over the body contemptuously and prepared to move on, but Ghost Rider hesitated, examining his chain as if suspecting a trick.

“What’s wrong, demon? Not having second thoughts, are you?” Loki asked.

“PRINCE OF LIES, YOUR TREACHERY IS INEVITABLE AND ONLY SENTENCES YOU TO GREATER TORMENT. BUT NO, I’M JUST WONDERING...” There was an expectant pause. “MY CHAIN ISN’T.”

“...Isn’t what?”

“COLD IRON. HE SAID IT WAS, BUT IT’S A STEEL ALLOY AND IT’S NOT EVEN COLD.”

“That’s... something you can tell the next commander we face. At length.”

“YOU’RE TOO CAUTIOUS FOR SOMEONE WHO’S BULLETPROOF, CAGE.”

“Listen,” he said tensely, keeping an eye on the advancing yellow horde. The AIM robots swivelled to and fro, trying to get a grasp of what their targets was. In the harsh light of the training facility, their casings gleaming, looking a little like a massive swarm of insects. “There’s no point fighting these things. They’re too powerful.”

“FEAR IS FOR MORTALS,” Ghost Rider proclaimed, striding forward with exactly no caution. “I’VE BLOWN UP THOUSANDS OF THESE THINGS BEFORE.” The robots turned as one, focusing on their target.

About ten seconds later, a motorcycle ripped through the swarm and skidded to a spot near Luke.

“WHOEVER ALLOWED THIS IS GOING TO BURN IN ETERNAL TORMENT,” he said, a bit more wearily. Behind him, the robots calmly walked through several blazing pools of hellfire, apparently unaware that they were supposed to be shorting out and melting.

“Sure,” Luke said, and clapped him very carefully on the shoulder. “I’m not saying I told you so. Took me by surprise too, the first time.”

The skull regarded him with something a little like pity. “WHICH TIME IS THIS ONE.”

“...Fifth.”

“I’M SO SORRY.”

“So we just have to survive a minute and a half against... that thing,” Luke said, turning to the ominous glow that had taken over half of the area. At the centre of the radiance was a familiarly goopy figure, currently blazing with light.

Given normally Ghost Rider remember it hanging around an area, dropping items when hit like a slimy vending machine, this was rather worrying.

“SO WE JUST KEEP AWAY FROM IT.” He considered the sudden blast of what looked to be copies of Mjolnir thudding into the walls and leaving large blackened marks. “FAR AWAY FROM IT.”

Then another one appeared and far away rapidly became a fond dream. They made a run for it – figuratively, as Ghost Rider was on his bike and tearing away without much consideration for Luke having to jog behind him – but caught between two Doops blasting items in a heavy, continuous barrage, little could be said for their chances.

Luke grunted as the Holo-Sim finished effortlessly crushing them and powered back down. “I guess having company only goes so far when they put the difficulty up this high,” he remarked. Ghost Rider made a dismissive noise, like fire hissing when rain fell on it.

“THIS WAS A MOMENTARY LAPSE IN JUDGMENT,” he said tersely as he repaired his jacket. “I CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER WHY I THOUGHT HELPING YOU WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA.”

“You kind of never said. Just showed up and growled at me about it. Not that I’m complaining, mind. All that fire helped out a lot, until... that last bit.” He tilted his head, considering. “Wanna try one more round?”

“...ONE MORE. THIS PATHETIC MACHINE CAN’T MAKE A FOOL OF ME.”

#my words #gift fics #hey eps you are a super cool friend and I always enjoy how well we mesh #and how much we share #esp ninjas but other stuff too #I'm v proud of how much you've been trying to work on yourself #and how much you put into your passions and fandoms #thanks for being my friend for another year!#hopefully we'll both be doing better and having more ridiculous dark elf quote sessions in 2017 #marvel heroes

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