#yeah this is the look that happens right before he pulls some illusion revenge shit

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Winter!

Hey @winterpower98 it's your birthday! I really hope you enjoy this, I know I had a ton of fun writing it for you! Actor AU is one of my favorite AUs you've made and coming back to play around with it again was a blast and a half!

Painter MK cackled, taking the brushes filled with bright pink paint into his fists.

“Yes, yes!” He exclaimed, brushing them against his cheeks and bringing another to run up the center of his face. “The art is-OW! OW, THE ART IS IN MY EYE!”

“Cut!” The director yelled, bringing the entire film production to a halt in an instant. “Xiaotian, what happened?”

The young actor dropped the paintbrushes into the hands of a stage worker to rushed over to help him, one hand covering his right eye as he tried to keep himself from laughing. “I think some of it splashed when I waved the brush at my face. I guess the art really IS-”

“Don’t say it,” Heshang said from the other side of the set, doing his best not to join his co-star in laughter.

“-seeping into my pores!”

The entire cast and crew groaned as Xiaotian cackled again, with a few added ows, before another stage hand came by with a bottle of water.

~3…2…1~

“Uh…” Xiaojiao pulled, attempting to pull the prop sword from above her head out of the wall only to be met with… a lot more resistance than should probably be there. “UH…? It’s stuck?”

She stood, attempting to pull it out normally only to be met with just as much resistance.

“It’s stuck!” She laughed, out, bracing a foot on the wall with no change.

“Let me try,” General Ironclad, or rather Red in the costume of General Ironclad for the episode, offered, attempting to do the same with the exact same result as his co-star. “What did you use to hold this in place? Cement!?”

“It should have only been stuck in with force!” A stage hand yelled as Xiaotian and Heshang joined in, both failing to pull the sword out from the false wall and Heshang nearly toppling over backwards with his additional costume pieces.

“Whoever stuck that in there needs to be moved to making sure the safety equipment stays connected!” Xiaotian offered, watching as even more people tried to remove the sword. “That is not coming out.”

~3…2…1~

Heshang held Mo in his arms, waltzing around the set as he waited for places to be called for with the shockingly content feline in his arms.

~3…2…1~

“You are selling beautiful vegetables today?” Pigsy said, leaning over the the display to give an awkward smile to the disguised Spider Queen.

Tang looked over the produce from where he knelt, looking back up at his companion with a concerned and confused look. “Are you… a-are-PFT-FUCK.”

Everyone on set burst into laughter as Tang did, both of his fellow actors holding back from laughing themselves.

“Why is it this line!?” Tang yelled in frustration as he continued laughing. “It’s not a hard line! I wrote this line! Why do I keep laughing at the last word!?”

“Maybe if Ganglie wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at me you’d keep straight face,” Zhi-Zhu Jing managed to get out through her laughter.

“That’d be the only thing straight about me.”

~3…2…1~

Dicky Cheung, or the actual Sun Wukong disguised as a human actor in full costume of himself, took a running leap and jumped onto the counter of Pigsy’s noodles, sliding to a perfect stop with a wink toward the camera.

~3…2…1~

“MK, there’s something I wanted to tell you…” Mei said, looking at MK with sparkles in her eyes before snickering. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s hard enough to keep a straight face during this scene!”

“Sorry!” Xiaotian yelled to the camera. “I can’t help it! How are Jin and Yin this wrong about these two in the show?”

“Himbos!” was the shouted answer from Tang at the other end of the set.

~3…2…1~

“One of the rare talents that no one knew the great Sun Wukong possessed…” Xiaojiao said ominously, camera panning over to Mr. Cheung in full costume. “Surprisingly good peach juggling!”

“Gotta keep myself occupied somehow!” The actor laughed out, catching two peaches in either hand while the last one was caught perfectly in his mouth to the applause of everyone watching.

~3…2…1~

“Thanks for the Key los-AH!”

Red flung his arms wildly, key flying into the air as Tie Shan rushed forward and caught him just before he face planted into the ground.

“Mine!” Mr. Cheung yelled as he caught the key mid air and rushed through the frame.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THIS EPISODE!”

~3…2…1~

“Thank you… for giving me all o-ooh, whoa!” Lui Er Mihou, or unbeknownst to nearly all Six-Eared Macaque in disguise much the same way as Sun Wukong was, yelped as the cable that was supposed to gently raise him and make him look like he was floating yoinked him as good 4 feet off the ground way too fast. “That’s too much power!”

“SORRY!” The line operator shouted, fiddling with the controls. “Someone loaded the weight setting for Xiaotian into your line instead of yours.”

“I already feel bad enough treating him like garbage and beating him up in this role, this is just rubbing salt in the wound,” Liu Er muttered, leaning back and swinging limply much to the amusement of everyone who couldn’t hear him before raising his voice. “When will my beloved friend Sun Wukong come to rescue me?”

“SPEAK MY NAME AND I SHALL APPEAR!”

Liu Er yelped in surprise as Mr. Cheung rushed in and grabbed him from beneath to hold him bridal style with a shit eating grin. He couldn't help the flush on his cheeks in response.

“HOW DO YOU KEEP SHOWING UP IN SHOTS WHEN YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE YET!?” The director yelled with more than a little amusement in his voice despite the disruption.

~3…2…1~

“You!” DBK said, rounding on Red Son. “You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again! I keep telling you I… shit, I can’t remember the next line when you look that sad, I am so sorry.”

“Nothing but disappointment?” Red offered helpfully, immediately breaking out of his downcast somber gaze to the floor with a wide smile.

“It is scary how fast you get in and out of character sometimes, kid,” Niu Mowang laughed out, clearly resisting the urge to ruffle the younger actor’s hair lest he ruin the styling job that took far too long every time they got dressed.

~3…2…1~

The White Bone Spirit stood at the entrance to the Silken Web Cave, looking at the camera before far too much time passed from when she was supposed to say he line. She moon walked backwards out of the frame without changing her expression one bit as the other actors devolved into cackles.

~3…2…1~

“The Year of the Spider starts tonight!” Spider Queen proclaimed from her high vantage point before she muttered something under her breathe, narrowing her gaze and then looking off to the side. “Or next year ‘cause I don’t remember my line.”

~3…2…1~

Huntsman slowly lowered into frame, upside down and gripping the rigging holding him up like Spiderman.

~3…2…1~

“Oh yeah?” Sun Wukong said, appearing in frame as he walked down the wall MK was embedded in. He grabbed his staff, yanking it out of the wall and jumped down and smacked the wall with it.

… only for it to go through the wall once again and crack it. Or, rather, the false wall that was on a tilted angle to make it look like he was talking down it, rather than a heavily slanted floor.

“I’m sorry!” Mr. Cheung yelled, looking at the damage he caused. “I must have hit at weak spot!”

He hoped no one noticed that when MK offered to get the prop staff for this shot and put it into the wall… he grabbed the real one by accident.

~3…2…1~

Nui Mowang held the little bird that was Wukong’s transformation stand in for one of the final scenes, gently petting the little head with a big goofy smile on his face.

~END~

The entire cast sat around on various travel tables right outside the small Lunar New Year Festival set they had set up, various extras that had answered the open invitation for the shoot going about and getting the free food that was available at the functional stalls provided by the catering they had hired.

It was an odd sight to see Red Son and Spider Queen and Sun Wukong and everyone else sitting around together, but Liu Er Mihou being there outside of his Macaque costume broke the illusion a little bit.

It was the final day of shooting for the season 2 opening special to Monkie Kid, Revenge of the Spider Queen, and everyone was there. Even people who didn’t have to come in wanted to give a temporary farewell to Tie Shan, Nui Mowang, and Red before season 2 proper began shooting. There was still a chance they could bebcalled in for bit roles, the scripts weren’t entirely finished yet, but as far as anyone knew the Demon Bull Family wasn’t going to be returning properly any time soon.

Maybe in season 3, Tang had teased, holding the begun scripts for that in his little tablet away from prying eyes. And they were always welcome to help out in bit roles, background characters or voice over or to use their other talents to work other jobs that were needed around the set.

But even before then it would be a while.

And so that’s how Red found himself sandwiched between Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian, with the newly added member of their quartet in her full White Bone Spirit costume hanging over his shoulder to watch the compilation that Xiaojiao had expertly edited on her phone for them all.

“The director gave me permission to use whatever I wanted and I though that… maybe we could all have it for ourselves,” Xiaojiao offered, pulling up the wireless transfer option on her phone. “To watch when we miss each other being on set together. I know we’re going to probably be back together with Red Son eventually! But…”

“I’ll miss shooting with you too,” Red said smiling softly as he pulled out his own phone to accept the file. “Hopefully Mr. Tang isn’t just teasing us about season 3.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #gen fic #actor au #ensemble cast #shadowpeach #(hinted) #scheduled

[poesparakeet-fics]

Read it here or on AO3!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast Characters: Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss, Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre, Caduceus Clay Additional Tags: Shadogast - Freeform, dunamancy, Empire Siblings - Freeform, Prank Wars, Tickling, rib tickling Summary:

What happens to a ticklish wizard when he manages to piss off too many of the people who love him? Allies are made and lessons are learned.

FIC

“Caleb Widogast!” Caleb jumped as he walked into the kitchen of the Xorhaus, unsure of what he could have possibly done to upset anyone this early in the morning. He was even more surprised when he saw who. “Essek?” Caleb stammered, taken aback. The drow was perched on a large kitchen chair with a cup of Caduceus’ tea in his hands and a pinched look on his face. “Schatze, I’m sorry, were we to meet? I hope you weren’t waiting long, I--” “No.” Essek corrected him sharply. “I am here to have tea with Mr. Clay at his request, to discuss the situation in Savalierwood. But he just told me that he healed some pretty distinct injuries for you, yesterday?” Caleb felt a guilty cringe fold his stomach in half. He sighed, looking at Caduceus. “So that just came up, ja?” “Yeah,” Caduceus responded, “thought it might be why you slept in.” “Ja, I had a bit of a fall--” “A fall? From where?” Essek’s gaze was intense. Caleb dropped his eyes to the floor. “Oh just, you know, clumsy--” “Really? You clumsily practiced dunamantic phasing on your own and fell through the floor?” “I think it was three floors, actually…” Caduceus mused quietly. The cringe came to the surface and showed, unbidden on Caleb’s face. “Essek, I--” “I have never limited you. It was the one thing I asked.” “I know, I--” “Caleb.” He froze when Essek cut him off, meeting the elf’s gaze once more. Essek stared him down hard before continuing. “I had… better masters than you had, when I was a young wizard. Infinitely gentler, certainly. But they would have whipped me for practicing phasing magic by myself. Truly. You could have cut yourself in half, dismembered yourself, crushed yourself, suffocated in a wall--” Essek seemed to cut himself off with a wave of his hand. “The point… the point is it would cause me a great heartbreak if irresponsible use of the magic I taught you led to your demise. Please promise me again, and keep it this time.” Caleb ducked his head, feeling like a rightfully scolded school child. “I will, ja. I am sorry.” Essek gave him a look that said he didn't entirely believe him. “I do trust you. I do not trust your curiosity. It’s only a virtue if it doesn’t get you killed.” Caleb laughed softly, nodding as he sat down at the table with them and accepted a teacup from the still-silent Caduceus. He winked at Essek. “I think I could say the same to you, but fair enough. If I do it again, I’ll let you whip me.” Essek smiled back, but the doubt didn’t leave his expression. ... “CALEB!” Beau’s voice thundered from upstairs, and Caduceus almost dropped the knife he was using to prepare vegetables for dinner. He spun around to see the wizard in question with his hands in his component pouch, running as fast as he could through the kitchen and out the back door. Beau’s quick steps followed, but by the time she was in the kitchen they could both hear the familiar woosh of a misty step from outside. She stopped stock-still in the kitchen, hands clenched into fists, looking… different than Caduceus had ever seen her. What was it? “Uh… hey. Did you get some new clothes.?” Beau turned to him silently, eyes burning holes in his head. It was pretty scary, actually. “Oh! Uh… is that what this is about?” Beau’s clothes were bright magenta where they had once been her usual cobalt blue. She was still staring at Caduceus with her fists clenched. Veth and Fjord were creeping wearily into the kitchen behind her. “I think it looks nice--!” Veth offered, only to choke off in a scared squeak when Beau rounded to face her. Beau reached out to yank Fjord’s hat off his head and put it on. “Hey!’ Fjord protested, before clamping one hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Oh. I see.” As it perched on Beau’s head, the hat instantly turned the same bright magenta of her robes. When she handed it back it returned to its usual color. The whole room was biting lips to keep an amused smile off their face, lest they become the new target for her fury. Beau took a deep breath before bellowing again. “CALEB!” She spoke into the air, her voice loud enough to hear throughout the house. “I KNOW THAT SPELL DOESN’T GO FAR. I KNOW YOU’RE HERE, AND I AM GOING TO FUCKING GET YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME? I AM GOING TO DO DOPE MONK SHIT TO YOUR NERVOUS SYSTEM, TIE YOU UP AND FEED YOU TO A ROOM FULL OF TIEFLINGS. You will FUCKING SUFFER! THINK OF A NEW NAME, CAUSE CALEB WIDOGAST IS A FUCKING DEAD MAN! ” At the end of her tirade Beau took a deep breath and started to walk upstairs again, but not before spinning around and jabbing a finger at everyone in the kitchen. “ANYONE caught harboring the wizard will share his fucking fate!” … "...CALEB WIDOGAST IS A FUCKING DEAD MAN! ” Caleb was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his hiding place in Fjord’s empty bedroom when Beau finished her threats, but by the time she was climbing the stairs again he had disappeared with a crackling pop. When the disorienting suck of the teleport spell faded he was standing on a clay path in a dimly-lit garden next to a trio of small towers made of iridescent grey brick. An arcane weather-vane creaked in the darkness. He started toward the door. “Caleb?” A head of pale curls popped up over the top of a bush of dark purple flowers, a frown of concern on the face beneath. “Essek, hello. Ah… may I spend the night?” Essek walked toward him as he pulled floral gardening gloves off of his hands, eyes narrowed wearily. “Of course, I am always happy to have you...” He reached Caleb and placed a distracted kiss on his cheek. “... did something happen at home?” “Yes.” Caleb answered, only to stutter as Essek’s worry grew, “Oh, ah, nothing bad. Well, nothing very bad. I just need to avoid Beauregard for a bit.” Essek’s worry immediately evaporated to be replaced with amused annoyance. “I see. What did you do this time?” They both started to stroll through the garden toward Essek’s back door. “Oh, just some illusion work. It will go away by morning. She deserves it, after stealing my spellbook while I was sleeping.” “Mhmm.” Essek hummed, linking his arm with Caleb’s. “But wasn’t her stealing your spellbook revenge for…” “The magic spiders, ja, but I had to do that! She--” “--the disappearing ink, yes, I remember. Are you sensing a pattern here, chathtiu?” Caleb sniffed and turned his nose up. “I have no idea what you mean.” Essek’s smile turned indulgent as he pulled Caleb into his home. “I’m sure you don’t. Beauregard does have a way of pushing your buttons, hm?” “She is the expert.” “I should ask her for advice, one of these days.” Caleb only laughed, pulling the smaller man into his arms. “You have your own way of pushing my buttons, don’t you schatz?” Essek smiled back. “You’re right, of course. I do.” ... Caleb stalked through the library of the Xorhause, circling it room by room. While his books were sitting on the desk he’d been working at the night before, their holsters were missing. He shifted the papers on his desk, panic rising in his chest. Where were they? “Caleb?” Jester was standing in the doorway, his holsters dangling from one finger. Caleb let out a sigh of relief. “Jester! Danke! Where were they?” “Sorry, I think Sprinkle must have stolen them.” Caleb shook his head, the tension in his chest easing. “That’s alright. I’m just glad they are found.” He reached out for them, stopping short when another figure entered the room. It was Beau, her clothes now back to their normal deep blue. Their eyes met for a moment, but the monk just breezed past as though she didn’t even notice Caleb was there. It had been a week since the incident with her clothes with no revenge or further threats, and Caleb was starting to wonder if he’d finally won the war. He shrugged his holsters on as the two women sat down on the sofa. He missed Jester’s giggle until it was too late. “Hey Caleb?” Beau asked. “Uh, ja?” Caleb cringed a little, turning around. Beau’s look was positively predatory. “Fuck you.” Caleb was about to respond when the sensation of fingers digging into his ribs flushed all the air out of him in one squeal. He spun around clumsily, hands flapping, but nobody was near him. He craned his neck to look down, his arms helplessly hugging his own ribcage while his knees buckled. That’s when he realized where the sensation was coming from. “Wh-what? No, I-- ah! Please!” His fingers fumbled with the buckle of his holsters to try and escape the traitorous leather trap, but the buckle was trapped under a magical seal of iridescent purple wax with the image of a skeleton key pressed into its surface. “Fuck!” Beaureguard was grinning like a gnoll. “What’s that buddy? Fuck you?” “Aah!” Caleb’s whole body convulsed and hit the carpet as the tickling escalated, even more invisible fingers reaching out from the leather to stroke delicate bones under pale skin and plain cloth. “No no! Please!” “Can I try?” Jester asked, giggling. “Nein!” “Sure, go for it.” “Fuck yooooou Caleb!” Caleb couldn’t answer her with words, he could only wail wordlessly. He writhed on the ground, trying desperately to resist the currently useless instinct to lock his arms at his sides so he could try and pull the holsters off over his head, but it was no use. All he could do was paw uselessly at the leather before Beureguard hissed the trigger word again and all he could see was stars. “Uh… everything alright in here?” Fjord’s voice came from the direction of the door. Caleb couldn’t see him over the sofa. “Fjord!” Caleb screeched. “Plea-hee-se! Evil!” It was all he could get out before his voice cracked and his laughter turned silent, his head thrown back against the carpet. “Huh?” Beau answered in an exaggeratedly casual tone. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just getting a little payback for my pink phase. Stole his holsters and Essek cursed ‘em.” A wave of betrayal strong enough to overpower his ticklishness gave Caleb just enough breath to shout “WHAT?!” before the laughter overtook him again, tears building in his eyes. “I helped with the ruse!” Jester piped up. “Uh-huh.” Fjord nodded, “can he breathe?” “Hmm? Oh, I guess we can check. Good boy, Caleb.” The sensation stopped all at once, and Caleb rolled flat on his back to gulp in air. “See? He’s fine.” Caleb sat up, hands held out in supplication even as he struggled to catch his breath. “Beau, please, I’m s-” “Fuck you and your apology.” Any strength Caleb had recovered melted away as he squealed and flopped back down on the carpet, limbs curling uselessly against his body. The tickling fingers coming from the inner panels of his holsters might as well have been sucking his very life-force out. Fjord lets out a sigh. “If you’re going to torture him for a prank, you at least have to let him apologise. Good boy?” Caleb didn’t get up this time, too scared to trigger someone’s wrath or sense of mischief. He was still giggling, partially from phantom sensation and partially from the panicky tension of knowing that any of them could trigger the curse at any moment. “I’m sorry! Bitte!” There was a beat of silence before Beau turned to Fjord again. “There, I let him apologise. Can we go back to the torture now?” “Wait!” Caleb squeaked, rising unsteadily to his knees. “Please Beau, we can talk about this--” “Oh, you wanna talk now? Cause when it happened you were happy to teleport away to your fucking boyfriend’s. So… you know,” she finished with a grin, “fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU.” “Nein!” Was all Caleb could manage before his laughter stole his voice away, only to crack and go silent once more a moment later. Tears leaked from his eyes to roll into the fluffy carpet beneath him as he crumpled. “Oh, he’s so cute when he cries, I love it!” Jester clapped her hands while she watched from the sofa. “This is the best curse ever.” Fjord made an agreeable sound. “I wonder if Essek could make something more remote? Then we could tickle him wherever we are. That would be fun.” Caleb couldn’t respond to the idea with anything more than pained wail through his hysterics. The others pretended not to notice. “Yeah, I do worry that he goes without when we’re gone.” Jester cooed. “Pfft. Yeah, I don’t think Essek is letting that happen.” Beau snorted. Caleb started to beat at the floor with one hand, hiccups punctuating his laughter. “Aw, alright. Good boy.” The sensation stopped again, but Caleb couldn’t stop his laughter. “Please, pleaheese, *hic* bitte--” “Focus on catching your breath.” Fjord suggested, “It’ll do you more good than begging will.” Caleb let out an exhausted little sob before obeying, his lungs working overtime to suck in air. He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to make the hiccups go away with little success. When his breathing finally evened out Fjord gave him a reassuring smile. “See, that’s better.” Fjord soothed. Beau’s grin got wider. “Hey, Caleb?” “No!” “Fffffffffff…” “Mercy!” “...uuuuck you!” “Aaii!” Caleb let out a little yelp at the sound of the words, then… nothing. He’d clenched his eyes shut in anticipation, and when he slowly opened them Beau was glaring at him. “Hey! How come it didn’t work?” Caleb let out a huge sigh of relief. The curse must have expended all of its energy. “Is it done?” Jester questioned. Caleb was wondering the same thing. He tried to examine the buckle of his holsters as subtly as possible. The seal was still there, which meant whatever the curse was, it was not over. He needed to get out of earshot as quickly as he could. “I thought it was supposed to last longer than that. Can you message Essek?” “Sure!” Caleb started to cast for misty step as subtly as he could, hoping he was close enough to his lab to lock himself inside. “Hi Essek, it’s Jester! So, your awesome curse thingy is SO great, but like, but it ran out of tickles? Do you know why?” Whoosh. Caleb hit the stone floor of his lab with an oof, dragging himself to his feet and transmuting the door of the lab into stone for good measure. As he groaned he saw that the room looked quite different compared to how he had left it the night before. The large chalkboard he used for calculations had been moved into the centre of the room. In one corner someone had drawn a symbol-- a skeleton key, like the one on the seal trapping him in his holsters. Next to it someone had written in familiar, looping script: I will not practice phasing unsupervised. X100 Caleb whipped out the enchanted little book he and Essek used to send messages between them, only to find a new one waiting for him. You have 30 minutes. Caleb was glad nobody was there to watch him gape like a fish between the chalkboard and the book. Essek couldn’t be serious. He frowned and grabbed up a quill. You are a traitorous snake! There was only a single silent moment before the page shimmered and revealed another message under Caleb’s. Noted. Now you only have 25 minutes. Caleb took a moment to say every curse word in every language he knew. Then he stood up, snatched the chalk and started writing.

#caleb widogast #essek thelyss #Shadogast #Tickling #Tickle Fic #Critickle Role #beauregard lionett #Empire Siblings #Prank wars #Rib tickling #Ticklish Wizards #hot boi essek #TK fic

[mageofseven]

Could I request MC hanging out with the brothers but having a hard time enjoying it cuz they’re stressed from school? How long would it take for each of them to notice MC just isn’t having fun and what would they do?

Of course, Nonnie! I actually really like this prompt~

~

Lucifer:

The oldest noticed within the first day of them being stressed

However, he left them to handle it on their own, thinking it was just a rough day and that they should be better by tomorrow.

When tomorrow came and they weren't better, the man grew concerned.

He invited them out to dinner Friday to take their mind off of whatever has been plaguing them.

When the human didn't seem to be able to relax during dinner, he simply sighed.

"Please, tell me what has had you so tense these last few days."

They told him that their Devildom History class was getting too overwhelming; there was too much that happened in the last few millennia and too many dates to remember. They felt they couldn't keep up like the rest of the class could.

"MC, the rest of the class has been studying this material for a few hundred years at least." The man reminded them. "Neither Diavolo nor myself expects you to work at the same level as the other students."

He admired that MC took their studies seriously, but found it silly that they would compare themselves to students who were so much older than themselves, even if they didn't appear so.

After dinner, he took them for a relaxing evening stroll, which helped the human clear their head a bit.

Mammon:

He knew within the first couple of days they were stressed out.

The second brother took them out to a party and usually they loved parties, but that night they just... felt weirdly distant. They would say that they're having fun, but it all just seemed... force.

The man didn't like it. He pulled them to the side.

"Oi! Enough with the fake smiles, Human!" He told them. "What's with the silence?"

MC stared at the ground.

"I...I failed the exam last week." She mumbled. "The teacher handed the tests back Monday and it was the worst I've done yet."

Really doesn't understand it.

Yeah, he gets anxiety when he fails stuff too, but that's only 'cause of Lucifer. He doesn't actually care about his grades beyond that.

Takes them home since they aren't really feeling it. The two hangout in his room, blasting music as they curl up on the couch together.

MC is still upset, but appreciated the closeness.

Leviathan:

Doesn't really notice at first, too absorbed in the video game.

When he finally passing the level he's been struggling with for the past hour, he turns to MC, seeking praise, but the human isn't looking at the screen or him, but rather into space.

Immediately feels dejected. Is he boring them? Probably. Who could have fun with an otaku like him? That's the thoughts running through his head that start spilling from his mouth.

MC has to reassure him for a while that what he's worried about simply isn't true before explaining things.

The amount of classes you were expected to take here at RAD was... overwhelming. Eight different classes that demanded so many hours of studying outside of it.

MC didn't even feel like it was okay to be spending time with Levi right now because her anxiety kept screaming at her that she was falling behind.

Boy is instantly awkward upon hearing about their stress.

How...how was he supposed to help? The otaku did not have the social skills for it.

MC sighed.

"I should...probably just head back to my room--"

Panicking, Levi grabbed their arm.

"Levi?"

The man looked away before tugging them close, letting the human lay their head on his shoulder.

"J-Just... relax." He mumbled, face red.

MC gave the demon an odd look before giving a small smile and snuggling into his side.

It didn't solve their issue, but the human appreciated his worry.

Satan:

Noticed the stress as it developed.

MC was struggling to keep up in their Seductive Speechcraft class and it was taking its toll on them.

Didn't want to say anything until they come to him however; this is their business after all and he didn't want to bug them about it if they just wanted to handle it by themselves.

Still quietly worried though.

Invites them to his room one evening to read together, hoping some quiet time will help them relax.

He saw that their gaze usually found it's way more towards the window than down at their book however.

The man sighed, lowering his book.

"Alright, please tell me about it."

"Huh?" They turned to him, confused.

"You have concerns about the Seductive Speechcraft material, correct?"

"I... yes." They mumbled, looking away from the blonde.

"Well, what about it is stressing you out?"

MC blushed.

"I... I understand most of it from a theoretical standpoint, but... the actual use of it all is difficult for me. I always score low on the practical exams."

The demon smirked.

"Well, I suppose some practice would be the answer."

The two have a rather enjoyable study session. It was actually useful to the human though and they felt more confident with the material.

Asmodeus:

Notices it while the two are out shopping.

Asmo just came out of the dressing room and expected compliments about the outfit. When they never came, the man pouted.

Despite loudly announcing his entrance, the human was still staring into space.

"MCCCC, Look at me!"

MC glanced at him.

"Looks great..."

The fifth brother huffed.

"Doll... what is it?"

MC sighed and just kept it vague, saying school was just a bit much for them right now.

Asmo frowned. He went and paid for the outfit before leaving with the human.

He dragged them straight to his room, earning a confused look from the human.

Spa Day, begin! Massages, nail polish, face masks, the whole nine yards!

The two talked and Asmo listened his Doll vent about some other students in her class talking shit about them, even though MC was pretty sure they had never talked to those demons before since coming to the Devildom.

Hypes up his human tells them how wonderful they are and that those demons obviously have no life.

Tells them that those jerks aren't really worth their time-- but if MC is interested in revenge, he's got some dirt ready for them.

Beelzebub:

Probably the brother who is the most sensitive to their mood shift.

It comes with the territory; Beel is more or less the rock of his family, helping them out whenever he can

And, especially when it comes to Belphie, Beel has learned to be observant with these sort of things.

So when MC first showed signs of stress, the poor boy was worried.

He's still a pretty quiet guy though so he wasn't really sure how to approach the topic with them.

Asks them to walk with him to Madam Screams

It was a quiet walk. Once there, he managed to get them to order something though, which made Beel feel a little better.

On the walk back, that's when he decided to speak up.

"So," He finished the last bite of his donut. "Are you feeling okay?"

The human shrugged.

"I dunno." They stared at the brownie in their hand. "Just kinda... I dunno."

Beel, not interrupting them, gives MC a minute to collect their thoughts and continue.

"Hey... is it possible to drop classes at RAD with me being an exchange student?"

The redhead raised an eyebrow at the human.

"Nevermind, it nothing..."

"Are you having trouble with a class?"

MC stared down at her feet as she walked.

"Maybe..." They mumbled. "My Hexes class is just... it goes a bit too fast for me. I don't think I'm really learning anything."

The demon listened as the human talked about how behind they were in the class and how overwhelming it was. At one point, they even started tearing up.

Beel stopped in his tracks, pulling them into a hug.

MC looked up at him surprise.

"It'll be fine." He promised. "Let's go talk to Lucifer about this, okay."

The human nodded, causing a tear to fall on her cheek.

Before they could wipe it though, Beel did for them.

"Let's go home." He gave them a small smile.

MC smiled back.

Beel felt that he couldn't do much to help, but was glad he could direct them to Lucifer, who could.

Belphegor:

This boy notices more than people think.

The human just seemed out of it during the day

And even sought him out for naps when it was usually the other way around

MC just seemed so disconnected from him and his brothers those last few days, not to mention a bit tense.

That's what led them to the planetarium.

The two laid on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.

Though the human still seemed distracted, they at least seemed calmer.

That wasn't enough for the demon though.

He gave a big sigh.

"So what's the problem?"

"Huh?" MC looked over at him, confused.

"You heard me; what's your problem."

The human bit their lip.

Belphie rolled his eyes and pulled the human to his chest.

"You can talk to me, Dummy."

"I just... I've been having some trouble at school is all."

Belphie narrowed his eyes.

"What trouble?"

MC sighed.

"There's this guy in my Hexes class who... he's not all that nice." They explained. "He put a fake flame on my uniform Monday and made me embarrass myself in front of the class while trying to put it out... and all my teacher did was shame me for not recognizing illusion spell he used."

Belphie's arms tightened around them.

"Give me a name."

"Belphie, no."

"Why not?"

"Because I know what you are going to do and I don't want you getting in trouble for me."

The boy huffed, annoyed.

"Then tell Lucifer or something; don't let them get away with that!"

"But... if I tell Lucifer, the teacher will probably get in trouble too and the last thing I need is to get on their bad side, especially in a class I already struggle with."

"Then maybe he could get them replaced or something, I dunno, but you shouldn't just lie down and take it."

MC didn't say anything, just hid their face in his chest.

The demon closed his eyes, letting himself calm down before laying his hand on their head.

"I care about you, Butthead." He told them. "Now you gotta start caring about yourself too."

The two ended up falling asleep together on the floor. Nothing really change, but cuddling up with Belphie and explaining the situation really did make them feel a bit better.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

[ryoryeonggu]

Okay, I’ve just finished 13 reasons why in one day. Despite everything people else have to say, I love it ♥♥♥  I love it so much ♥♥♥ I had planned to finish it as soon as possible, but when it’s truly over, my heart’s really crushing because from now on, I have to let it go forever :( I will miss this show so much along with all the characters (even those ones I once hated so much like Bryce and Monty)

Let me talk about a few thing I love and also leave me heartbroken in this season:

First of all, Clay. Ofc, people tend to say he’s annoying, but I really love him, knowing all of his flaws and his mistakes. He’s sometimes aggressive, he’s sometimes too controlling and overreacting and has hero complex. He’s an idiot. But all I have seen is a boy who cares too much about the others and it finally breaks and destroys him. He always is the one who protects, the one taking care of others, so when of course, he also had his own problems, he had his own issues, so people tended to not likely notice that or help him like the way he helped them because he’s supposed to be strong one, and he also wanted to be strong for his friends so he rarely let it out. And don’t forget he’s having very serious mental illness (I don’t believe that’s only depression and anxiety, it could be also schizophrenia or dissociative identity disorder, since he has illusion of Hannah way before Monty and Bryce “ghosts” tortured him). And not only his friends and his family hardly recognized his issues, a lot of people in fandom kinda are ignoring it as well. Despite how he acted or what he had done was right or wrong, he had tried and done a lot of people, like not for him, a lot of people would have ended up dead or worse. Because of Clay and his courage, Tyler would have become a school shooter and suicide, the rape case of Hannah and Jessica would have remained in silence, Justin would never have found a home and been happy and had a chance to become a better person, Alex would have killed himself again out of guilt… and the most important thing, they wouldn’t been friends and stayed strong together like the ending. So, to me, Clay is still the greatest friend that no one could ever be and I adore him with all my heart. And I can see myself in him: a kid with anxiety and depression that love living with fantasies, trying so hard to be strong, to be a good person and a good friend, and thinking that I could never love anyone and no one could ever love me back.

Then Alex. My favorite of my favorite character in this show. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything good happened to him in this season. But turns out, it was even so much better that what I had been imagining. He’s still sad and depressing, he still thought low of himself and blamed himself for everything, thought he was not good enough. But he found love, and was happy. And they really make him BI! Like, I was hoping it but I never thought they would really do it. And he kissed three guys, and I ship it all lol.

About Zalex, honestly, I never really shipped it until season 4 came out. From what I saw, I believe Alex did have real feelings for Zach and this kiss really meant something, for both of them. The way Zach didn’t pull away from the kiss, the way he asked Winston that if he really was in love with Alex or what he saw in him (like a jealous idiot), the way he corrected Alex right away (in front of Alex’s BOYFRIEND lol) that that kiss wasn’t a disaster at all, his sad look watching Alex and Charlie holding hands, yeah, not mention “why are you with me but not with Charlie?”. So from all of that, I don’t think that feeling was only one-sided. But like everything else happened in Zach’s life, when his life got shit, especially when it came to love, Zach tended to be a coward and did everything to hide from his own feeling and his complicated situation. Like in this season, the way he used alcohols and casually having sex – not giving a shit about anything like the way to hide from his problems, instead of actually dealing with the problems. Like he lose Hannah because of it. And now he also lost the chance to be with Alex. I think in the end, he did realize that he had feelings with Alex too, but it was way too late. And I also believe that Alex will always love him, like the way he also love Charlie. You can love both, if you believe or not.

A lot of people say that if Alex had been there and had helped Zach like the Zach had done to him in season 2, Zalex could have been ended up with each other and had been endgame. But, no, I don’t think it will. Alex chose to be with Charlie is the best and realistic choice, because Charlie was good for him. Yeah, Zach was depressed with trauma, in the deepest ship of his life and he needed helps, ofc, but so did Alex. Don’t forget Alex in this season wasn’t in the better situation to help anyone, he murdered someone and blamed himself so much for everything was happening, and he was also really self-loathing like Zach was. So he needed someone, like Charlie, someone’s positive, confident and had healthy energy, someone who made him feel he was loved, he was taken care of, and someone would be able to remind him everyday that he’s worth being loved and deserved all the happiness in the world. Not a mirror to see how fucked up and destructive he was like Zach. All Alex’s life problems was trying to be tough, to be man up to be able to take care of and be with a girl; and with Charlie, he didn’t have to do it anymore. He was safe, he was loved, and he was happy. Alex loved Zach, but sometimes, love isn’t the answer. Sometimes you have to choose what’s good for you, so despite it wasn’t built up as deep as Zalex, the relationship between Alex and Charlie was still one of the best relationships in the show and I love it. Alex and Zach clearly was in love with each other, but they just miss the right time and now it’s only regrets. And moreover, even also in the messy shit of his own head, except the coach and sometimes Charlie, Alex was the only one who tried to help Zach and never gave up on him. In fact, those words from Alex about how he helped him and made him feel safe was one of the major effects that brought Zach back to life. 

The same goes with Winston and Alex, another “what we could have been but it was too late”, they just met in the wrong time and the wrong circumstance then lost each other forever. But I do believe that their feelings was genuine, even it’s only for some short of time (at least from Winston, since he dropped his revenge which he was obsessed with the entire time all just for Alex, how sweet).

And Justin!!! OMG Justin!!! My heart really ached so much with all the scenes he’s in hospital. Not only because Clay lost a brother, another important person in his life, their group lost a very good friend, but also the most hurting part, that he could have gone to the college, he could have had a future, he could finally have had a good life, but then it was completely wrecked in one go (especially right in the moment he was finally happy and had everything that he had ever wanted). I almost cried when he said he’s scared (we should have known since the show dropped a number of time Justin kept saying he wanted to be live, how fucked up and depressing it is) and wanted Clay to hold his hand. Even Clay acting like a dick and pushing Justin away a lot, the bromance between them was still the best and the most memorable one (and now thinking about it only wanted me to punch my chest so hard and cried). Life is fucking not fair and he definitely deserves so much better.

And finally Ani. She actually grew on me in this season since the last season she annoyed me so much. I like how she finally admitted that she was wrong when he slept with Bryce and finally apologized to Jessica about it (which really made it up to the whole shitty storyline of her in the previous season). I love how Clay and her finally broke up and admitted to each other that they were not fit and weren’t ready to be in any relationship (f**k thanks god, finally, because they was never fit, like at all). And I also like the way she always got Jessica’s back and was there for her everytime (I even almost ship them with the scene Ani asked Jess to go to Prom with her, it’s so adorable ♥♥♥)

And I love Tony, I love Tyler, I love Jess... basically I love everyone ♥ ♥ ♥

Okay “my thumbs got tired”. I would probably write another essay about what I love about this series, someday, probably.

#13 reasons why #13rw #13reasonswhy #clay jensen #Alex Standall #justin foley #ani achola #winston williams #charlie st. george #zalex #alex x winston #charlie x alex #alex x charlie #winston x alex #sorry i don't know what the fuck the other ships's name so I just let it that way #zach dempsey

[chaniters]

Halloween Part II

The Rangers take on Red Behemoth, who has joined Psychoathor as he leads the Phoenix riots against GeniTech’s Headquarters amidst an ecological disaster.  Sidestep comes up with a plan that can hopefully salvage the situation. 

(So on a quick note, I’ve learned that complex stories with multiple characters and a long series of actions and consequences are HARD to write.)

Hope you enjoy this!

Spoilers, as usual. 

__________________________________

“Let’s do the wiring trick!” you ask hurriedly, gun in hand back to the pile of clutter Charge and you are using for cover. You’re very thankful to whoever used this rooftop as their personal storage, else Red Behemoth would have splattered you both by now. 

“You think you can penetrate that armor?” he looks nervous and sweaty, but he’s still got that spark in his eyes that tells you he’s aching for action and crazy stunts right this instant. 

“With the plasma cutter, I got at your HQ? In a heartbeat!” you say holding it on your right hand. 

A single nod. Good. Steel would already be giving you hell about stealing. 

“Alright, you go left, I’ll go right,” he says starting a sprint that leaves a static streak behind him.  Never ceases to amaze you how fast he can move. You start your own sprint… 

“Hey, over here you Soviet asshole! I bet your museum armor can’t hit me!” you taunt him while taking a few energy gunshots at the Behemoth. You’re making it worse by sending a strong scent of frustration into Red’s mind as your shots hit his visual hud.

“Die, you capitalist pigs! RAAAHHH!!!” he roars turning the chassis of his armor towards you, machinegun’s spinning and vomiting bullets at a frightening speed. Thankfully there are a few water tanks on this rooftop to avoid the onslaught…not that they last long before you have to take cover elsewhere. You’re keeping his aim a few degrees off with an illusive after-image. It should be enough to keep you safe against most enemies but considering Red Behemoth’s already awful aim you could still get hit at any time.  

You let go of his mind just as Charge gets close enough to yank one of the Behemoth’s machineguns out of its base with both arms. It doesn’t go like planned, because the thing’s still heavily wired to the villain’s and won’t fully detach, nor will it stop firing… Luckily for you, Charge’s very good at improvising. He manages to turn the gun around just enough to face its owner, blowing up its own base along with most of the Behemoth’s mechanical arm. 

“Newsflash, the cold war’s over bitch! Lay off the guns!” Charge adds his own attempt to infuriate the enemy. 

“Never! I will burn your entire bourgeoise experiment of a country myself if I have to!” he yells turning while aiming a heat-seeker missile at Ortega with his surviving arm. 

Now it’s all up to you… You time your leap and… 

Success!

Wrapping your legs around the armor’s back, Behemoth notices too late that you’re there, swatting fruitlessly in your direction with his missile-loaded arm.

“Get off me, you little Sidekick shit!”

“It’s SIDESTEP!” you say dodging while confusing him about the length of his claw, making him think it’s impossible to reach you. If only… A slab of concrete collides with his face just in time to distract him. You hold on tighter, realizing Elyise is there providing support… good. 

“You’re all products of this weakened and fallen democracy! You will all be crushed under the Soviet Heel!” his Synthesizer yells while shooting some manner of a laser from his chest at Elyise, who quickly levitates away from its firing arc. 

“How many weapons do you have in there, freak??!” you ask in shock. 

“More than enough to destroy all of you American puppets!!”

“You’re not even a true Russian agent!” you say taking out the cutter and sticking it as close as you dare to the armor without burning your hand. 

“My birthplace doesn’t matter as long as I am serving the great ideals of LENIN and the motherlan…- AAAGHH!”

The burning must have got to him, and that does get his attention big time. He jerks violently, while trying to catch you with the claw, like a maddened bull. You twist and turn like a snake, doing your best to avoid getting crushed.

Luckily, the cutter is top-notch, and soon enough you have a decently sized fracture on the shell. You pull the wiring from your pack as fast as you can, and stick it in, throwing the other end at the ground, were Charge takes it.

“GET OFF!” Behemoth yells with a spin that actually leaves you without enough hold to stay on top. It’s a bad landing, and it takes the air of your lungs as you fall over the hard rooftop. You stand as fast as you can, but he’s faster this time. All you can see is the Red Behemoth impossibly tall in front of you, pointing the missile straight at your face.

“Say your prayers to your almighty dollar now” his voice thunders down onto you. 

“Oh, will you shut up already? Do you even know how annoying you sound?” Charge says activating a full discharge … 

What follows is that delightful moment when Red looks down, only now noticing the cables going all the way from Charge’s hands to the back of his armor…

*BKZKKAAAAAP*

He lights up like a glorious christmas tree, everything malfunctioning at once, intense black smoke coming from within soon after. He only manages a weak-high-pitched scream before falling down on his head. 

His arm falls limps to the floor, vaguely pointing at you. It’s over. He’s done. You won.

But the small missile’s not done, seems it didn’t get the memo. You notice that just as it activates, the burnt arm’s mechanism not releasing it. It’s ignited tail sizzles and yanks at it’s hold trying to break free for a whole two horrible, endless seconds as you direct a panicked jump to the side…  

Colorful.

That’s all you can think about the resulting explosion before the shockwave separates your feet from the ground.

Impact comes from behind as well, as your back hits hard against Charge’s solid chest. He wraps his arms around you, protective, holding you in place. His gesture is firm but ultimately hopeless, as the shockwave will soon sweep him away as just as it did you. Still, he doesn’t let go.  

Despite his aid, it’s now the both of you falling down from the building, fast as a bullet and hard as a brick. Your life flashes before your eyes in as the ground closes in, much shorter than you had hoped it would be.  Still, once the final score is tallied, you have to agree that hitting the pavement head-first while in Charge’s strong arms is a pretty decent way to go. You can probably accept this fate… He is the man that you…

…no. NO!!! What the hell are you thinking? Are you daydreaming in the middle of a fucking war?!?! What is wrong with you?!

Your training kicks in, dissolving the romantic delusion and bringing you back to the bloody reality of Phoenix’s riot. Pulling the pathetic sentimentalism aside, your mind reaches swift for Sentinel, who miraculously is both nearby and happens to be the ranger that can pick on your calls for help faster than any trained operative you’ve ever worked with. 

Because he’s a professional and not someone fantasizing about some himbo coming to his aid. Ugh, you disgust yourself. When did you let it get this bad? Your handlers warned you so many times against developing such strong personal attachments like this and it’s never been clearer that they had a point…   

Sentinel’s wind gust is quick, efficient, and incredibly cold, stopping you both from becoming a permanent landmark in the nick of time.    

When you finally do hit the ground, the impact is soft and gentle, and you both roll slowly to the side, Charge still won’t let go. You look back to see he’s got his eyes closed, shivering. Shit, he was probably expecting to die right now, just like you did… 

“Hm… guys? I’m really digging this bromance of yours, but Psychopathor’s Doomriders are still out there trying to kill everyone?” Sentinel says, hovering downwards. “Good save calling on me Sidestep, that telepathy’s sure handy” He grins, only his lips visible under his mask. 

Charge exhales, and it takes a few seconds for him to actually realize no one is going to break every bone, and that it would be wise for him to let go of you now, a point that you help drive with a heavy frown.  

“Thanks, Sentinel,” you say dusting yourself off, your gaze still on Charge. 

What the heck are you doing Awan? Why do you want him to hold you when you should yell for him to stay the fuck away? The worst part is you’re pretty sure you’re sending the worse mixed signals and now that you’ve effectively blackmailed Elyise into leaving him, there’s not going to be anything stopping this mess from getting impossibly much worse. 

You need to pick a lane and stay in it, and it can’t be the same as his. Right?  

“Great job, both of you,” Charge says, a bit sheepish, pretending he wasn’t burying his face on your shoulder just a minute ago.

If you could only scream now…

____________________________

“Well it’s official, it can get worse,” Anathema says holding a tablet that’s playing the news. “Another shootout, three dead, and now they’re taking over police stations. The Revengers got beaten badly. Psychopathor’s people are passing guns onto the rioters right now.”

Everyone looks at the scenes with concern. While Red Behemoth’s been defeated, The Calamity, Ripper, Queen of Diamonds and the Beast from Below have all joined Psychopathor’s “Doomriders”, his improvised villain team and more are said to be about to join as well. More and more people are rallying to them each hour. 

“At this rate, there’s going to be a civil war when they reach the base of the Arcology” Ashfall states

“That why we get the mission done, and don’t let them get any closer,” Steel says adjusting his new hand’s mods. 

“Oh yeah? Fighting Psychopathor’s one thing, but how are we supposed to stop hundreds, maybe thousands of armed civilians? I didn’t sign up for this!” Ashfall replies, and soon an argument erupts. Ashfall’s outbursts at Steel often make your own arguments seem mild. 

You take the tablet from Anathema as he joins in, their voices fading into the background as your shields raise. You focus on following the events on the screen. Only a few hours since the helicopter ride from Los Diablos, but the images are outright haunting now. Discarded Halloween costumes everywhere, stepped on by people fighting over air filters, shops closing or getting burned down and massive traffic jams after some rioters turned to burn cars as well. 

People have completely lost it, taking orders from the worst villains imaginable. Some of them, especially the ones without covered faces are going into awful coughing fits on screen. Just watching it makes you adjust your own air filter tighter, a constant reminder that you’re surrounded by the cloud.  

Things escalated very quickly after the first death from toxic poisoning was confirmed by the media, and it’s turned into a real shitshow since then. 

If you could just leave the villains and GeniTech sort out their differences in private it would be great, but that’s not an option. Not when the air is poison and everyone knows there are not enough gas masks coming. GeniTech did not help things out at all when they announced their “unlimited” power supply could keep the Arcology supplied with fresh air and clean water for centuries to come, of course, only for those with the means to buy their way in.

It doesn’t matter if Catastrofiend caused the toxic spills, the media caught on the factories being subsidiaries and now everyone’s blaming GeniTech… which also happens to owns the only safe refuge. 

A few civilians already tried to break in, and it turned bloody for them when GeniTech’s soldiers opened fire with short-range repeating anti-riot laser weapons. Most of it was blocked from the news, but several videos are being passed on by cellphone messages by those who recorded it, and it only made everything worse. They dispersed for now, but once Psychopathor rallies enough support and amassed enough weapons to fight off the GeniTech mercenaries, the parks around the trio of conjoined massive futuristic skyscrapers that form the Arcology are going to become a superpowered battle royale and who knows how many are going to die.

 You’ve given up on trying to find his motivation by now. Truth is, he’s probably just as angry at GeniTech and the government as everyone joining him and wants it all to burn. 

Steel’s right that if you let Psychopathor advance, the crowd will immediately follow and it will turn into a real bloodbath. But if you stop them… then the fucking cloud will still get them. 

Why is humanity so reckless and stupid, you can only wonder.

You focus back on them, Ashfall and Steel pointing fingers at each other while Anathema tries to mediate. Sunstream and Elyise are whispering at the back and Charge just looks miserable. 

“Marshall” you interrupt them at the right moment to break the argument, adding a mental finger-snap to get everyone’s attention to it. “I’m sorry but both Steel and Ashfall are both right. This is useless, we can’t stop Psychopathor if the citizens are on his side, and even if we could it will end badly because the cloud isn’t going away.”

“I know that, but do you have any better ideas?” Charge says exhausted. 

“Yes. We need to get GeniTech to let the people inside until the cloud dissipates. It’s the only way.”

“Already asked for that. They said no, no one gets in without paying them. Company policy, they said.”

“Well then we need to ask again”

“Look Sidestep, I’ve called several times already, ok?. We can’t turn those corporate vampires compassionate overnight.”

“Who said anything about calling? Their entire board is gathered in there for their Halloween party, right? I say we visit them.”

“What makes you think that will make any difference…?”

“I’m pretty sure I can help you appeal to their values if I’m right beside you. You know, change their minds on the subject?” you say tapping your forehead.

There is a brief moment of silence as everyone considers your words. They all know you’re a telepath, you just haven’t ever had a situation to use your powers like this. 

“I’m in,” Anathema says extending his hand first

“Me too” Ashfall places his hand on top of Anathema’s, a quick second.

“I don’t think there’s much of a choice here, we have to stand by the people” Sentinel says adding his own.

“Agreed. And I don’t want to shoot civilians, like ever” Sunstream states joining the hand stack

“I’m game for it, never liked those greedy bastards” Elyise states as she enters the huddle. 

Steel gives you a long stare 

“It might…actually be worth a shot,” he says drily before placing his new hand on top of Elyise’s.

All your eyes converge on Charge’s… he finally snorts, stacking his right with you all. 

“Alright, team… So this is how we’re going to do this…”

___________________________________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #@Kruk-art #awan cormac #Chargestep #Fanfiction #pre HB #fallen hero spoilers

[classified-bluerose]

put me back together vi || quentin beck x reader

chapter six: cut me open, take my heart

a/n: chapter title from ‘’when you walk away’’ by 5sos. i may be taking a short break from this while i figure out where to go from here. i don’t have an exact ending in mind- should it be sad, or happy? or somewhere in between? who knows? not i.

warnings: manipulation, mentions of character death, quentin being a lil bitch, sad mcu scenes mentioned, also (almost) changes to the main plot of the mcu lol that i can’t say here w/out spoiling it. hope ya’ll enjoy.

a/n 2: major liberties taken with the timeline in ffh, the chain of events in ffh, and astral projection. (you’ll see).

—

—

(GIF is not mine)

—

stephen answers the phone on the final ring, just before it cuts to voicemail.

‘’ yes? ‘’

‘’ i need to astral project. ‘’

‘’ or hello, as people used to say, ‘’ the sorceror replies drily.

‘’ i don’t have time for pleasantries. this is urgent. how can i do it on my own? ‘’

on the other end of the phone, strange sighs. ‘’ i suppose warning you against it due to the potential dangers of the act is pointless? ‘’

‘’ yep, ‘’ you respond, popping the p.

‘’ and asking you why you need to astral project? ‘’

‘’ i don’t have time. ‘’

‘’ of course you don’t, ‘’ he mutters under his breath, before releasing a breath and turning serious. ‘’ okay. listen carefully, and follow these instructions exactly as i lay them out. ‘’

within thirty minutes, you’re set up and ready to go. taking some steadying breaths you lay in the rectangle of lit candles and close your eyes. focusing on where you want to go.

how long it takes, you can’t be sure. maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours. eventually, the familiar floating sensation overwhelms your senses and when you reopen your eyes, you look down at your prone form on the ground. weird, you think, never getting used to it no matter how many times you do it.

right. you haven’t got long. ten minutes or less, any longer and the more difficult it will be for you to return to your physical form. you focus on the image of quentin in your mind; sparkling eyes, razorblade smile, smooth charm, slick hair. green smoke and fishbowl helmet, thick armour, flowing cape.

you drift through the plane and find yourself in a nondescript building, worn down and aging badly. quentin’s voice reaches your ears, loud and irritated.

‘’ what do you mean a drone was damaged? why didn’t you go and get it? ‘’

a man, bespectacled, behind a mass of computers. ‘’ it won’t matter, mr.beck, the loss won’t be noticable. ‘’

‘’ except, ‘’ the man himself, centre stage, through gritted teeth, ‘’ that peter parker has found that drone and will figure out the truth. ‘’

a cold breeze shifts around you; no. no. no.

‘’ when i have to kill that kid, his blood will be on your hands! ‘’

quentin roars, gone is the soft tenderness you experienced only hours ago, here is pure rage. this is a tantrum in a man, a storm of pure emotion.

‘’ kill that kid. ‘’

peter.

fuck.

you close your eyes and focus on getting back to yourself. the fear and panic creates obstacles, when you return, night has fallen outside - to your horror.

‘’ shit. shit. shit! ‘’

—

how many times can i screw up? you think to yourself, as you wait for quentin in your hotel room.

how many more people can i hurt, by not realising things until it’s too late? you close your eyes as a montage of painful memories plays across the screen of your mind.

steve’s secrets, tony, broken and alone in siberia. stephen and peter, the guardians, fading away to dust in front of your eyes. natasha’s hand slipping from yours on vormir; tony with the gauntlet and the stones swallowing him up in an easy gulp.

your hands start to shake. peter. please be okay. peter has to be okay.

‘’ honey? what’s going on? ‘’

you hadn’t even heard him arriving. you don’t look up, too fearful of what you may see in his face. too fearful of what he may see in your own.

he calls your name softly, worry in his tone. angry voices bite inside you. liar. falsehoods. trickster.

his footsteps grow closer and you raise your head, never opening your eyes.

this is where your illusion shatters. this is where his begins.

—

‘’ quentin beck - formerly employed by tony stark, under the illusion technology department. ‘’

quentin’s blood runs cold.

‘’ fired in 2014, due to instability and potential to become a danger to those around him. ‘’

his jaw clenches tight enough to ache. no. no. he will not let tony stark ruin this for him.

‘’ following beck’s departure from stark industries, tony stark unveils a new therapuetic technique, named BARF - binarily augmented retroframing. ‘’

your eyes open to meet his. brutal, unforgiving, a fire of ice blazing. mouth a harsh snarl, a far cry from the usual kind expression he sees.

‘’ listen to me. i can explain. ‘’

you don’t let him.

‘’ so, hang on. let me see if i’ve got this right, ‘’ you start, ‘’ you work for tony for years. you give your blood, sweat, and tears to a project that is more like, say, your baby, than a project. that’s right, yeah? ‘’

quentin tries to steady his breathing. ‘’ please, just - ‘’

‘’ so, tony fires you. right after you’ve made a big break in your work. cites the reason that you’re not stable enough to keep working on this project. you want to weaponise it. tony doesn’t, having shut down manufacturing of weapons years before. so ... what? you spend the next ten years working on this revenge plot? ‘’

you cock your head to the side and narrow your eyes. ‘’ or do you wait until he’s dead? because you know you can’t actually pull this shit off with him around. that he would figure it out in a nanosecond. because you can just about compete with a child? ‘’

he yells your name, reaching his breaking point.

you ignore him but match the volume. ‘’ did i i get it right, mr. beck? have i missed anything out? ‘’

‘’ you don’t understand and now you won’t listen! ‘’

‘’ i have heard enough from you! ‘’ you laugh, rolling like thunder, low and dangerous. you sober up suddenly. ‘’ the only thing i want you to say? where. is. peter. ‘’

quentin falls silent. you can hear your own heartbeat as he refuses to meet your eyes.

‘’ where is he? ‘’ your tone, edged with desperation, grows aggressive, causing quentin to nearly wince away.

‘’ he had to be dealt with. ‘’ (quentin hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.)

you laugh again, no mirth, just sharp edges. ‘’ don’t. don’t you dare- quentin, where is peter? ‘’

he looks at you with sorrow weighing down his handsome features; features that you now want to punch, hard.

‘’ i’m sorry. it wasn’t supposed to go this way. ‘’

like ice water flooding your veins, everything around you freezes. you shake your head, words failing you.

‘’ you can’t have - you can’t - ‘’

quentin holds up his hands and slowly walks up to you. ‘’ i’m so sorry, ‘’ he repeats, and you’d almost believe him, if you could process anything in this moment.

peter. dead?

you let him down - again.

a ragged breath rips its way from your chest, knees buckling.

‘’ please, let me - ‘’

you rear back when quentin comes close enough to touch. ‘’ no. no. don’t. don’t you fucking - don’t you put a hand on me. you liar. liar. cheat. evil, manipulative, lying- ‘’

‘’ now, now, ‘’ quentin chides, almost hurt, ‘’ that’s not very nice. hmm? like i said - it wasn’t supposed to go like this. poor peter, he just - i tried to get him out of the way but he just. kept. interfering. ‘’ quentin chuckles, in a way that says ‘’i mean, what else was i to do? ‘’

you stare, swallowing down tears.

‘’ it’s a shame, ‘’ quentin sighs, ‘’ because i liked the kid. really, i did, ‘’ he insists, searching your face for something that will let him know you believe his words. ‘’ but, casualties happen. ‘’ he says it so matter-of-factly, you can’t even stop yourself.

he’s lying on his back and your knuckles are burning in the blink of an eye; it’s a good thing for quentin that your powers aren’t on full blast, otherwise the blow most likely would have killed him.

as it is, when he sits back up, stunned, his nose is crooked, streaming blood. he winces furiously when he touches two fingers to the swollen appendage, and then tilts his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

‘’ i really wish you hadn’t done that. ‘’

you open your mouth to speak - just as the room falls away beneath you. leaving you stranded in a black box. empty. vacant.

‘’ quentin? ‘’ you call out, trying to keep the anger in your voice. ‘’ quentin, don’t. ‘’ the warning comes as more of a plea and you hate that.

‘’ it’s gonna be okay, honey, ‘’ his voices comes from everywhere and no-where at the same time, disorientating as you get to your feet and stumble around the space. ‘’ don’t worry. you’ll see, soon. you’ll understand. ‘’

a low buzzing begins in the distance. your heart hammers against your chest, panic tightening your throat as breathing grows more and more difficult. ‘’ quentin, please- ‘’ you whisper, brokenly, and he almost wants to cut the scene. end the illusion. have you in his arms again, feel you kiss him, touch him, smile at him.

the buzzing grows louder and he watches you spin around and around as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

you don’t understand, not yet - he has to make you understand.

‘’ it’s gonna be okay, honey, ‘’ he promises a second time, sad and hopeless.

a swarm of wasps descend upon you, you shriek and slap them away, more appearing out of thin air. quentin tries to block out your yells of fear and pleas, ‘’ quentin, stop - stop it! please, stop it! ‘’

it’s okay, he whispers to himself, it’s gonna be okay. he draws out a syringe from a pocket on his hip, approaching you quietly.

you punch the air and twist and turn. trying to escape the flurry of buzzing wings swallowing you whole. one of them stings you, a pinch in your neck. dizziness warps your vision, loosens your limbs, throws the world up in the air.

you drift away into nothingness, peter’s face the last thing you see, in your mind.

quentin’s voice the last thing that you hear. whispering in your ear.

‘’ we’ll get through this, honey. don’t worry. i’m gonna keep you safe. ‘’

—

tag list: @djjffkd @kellzogg @bucky4cap45 @tuliptx @evee550 @stargeek727 @hrrykim @angeli-fucking-cat @glitter-rian

#personall~ #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #jake gyllenhaal #spiderman #spiderman ffh #tom holland #peter parker #qb:pbmt

[grotesquegabby]

Auntie Tiger

She is here

huehue~

finally x3

She won’t meet everyone right now but eventually she will. Also it’s time for the spider man meme

@post-itpenny Maggie is in here uwu

She had been waiting for so long. She couldn’t just poke her nose into everything though, it her sister knew she was there it surely would have been the end of her. Despite her strength the lights that Thyone had consumed and absorbed had given her more strength. Plus the idea of destroying what was left of their family seemed so wrong.

But the two boys, oh how precious they were. She knew there were more children of her sister Thyones but these two were different somehow. So special, she couldn’t put her finger on it.

This time though she knew, having returned from a hunting trip she heard the news.

Thyone was dead.

As much as it hurt Tilde, it also filled her with relief. She loved her sister but did not love the things she did to the family. Now that she was gone it was time. Time to meet everyone.

Lennie was feeling much better, though he still had a slight dizzy spell from time to time. He was doing so much better than before. He was petting Kala, who had her head laid on her lap. Ula on the floor with Davey and Mana. Davey was asleep sprawled out like a starfish, with building blocks surrounding him. Mana helping Ula building around him quietly. Kala perked up a bit when Lennie’s phone started buzzing. She made a grunt and went back to relaxing, causing Lennie to give a slight chuckle, “No time for such things huh.” He pulled out his phone and saw it was his brother calling. He pressed the button and put it to his ear, “Hey Bro, what’s up?”

“Did the accursed yellow bitch ever mention any relatives to you?”

Now Lennie wasn’t expecting Billy to ever say that. Up until Amaranthus came Billy had only ever been respectful towards their..blood mother. But when his daughter emerged he became very protective and rebellious. But the insults Lennie still wasn’t used too.

“Uhhh...no she never mentioned any to me.” He slipped off the couch and headed towards the kitchen, “why do you ask?”

“Because I have a woman standing in front of me telling me she’s our aunt from her side of the family...” Billy sounded absolutely enraged but clearly was holding it back. He didn’t want to deal with another Thyone, and the pit forming in Lennie’s gut surely meant he felt the same way. They didn’t want another one, “um...what else is she saying.”

“She is saying how much she’s wanted to meet us and shiii..just...”

“Has she...tried anything at all?” Lennie asked worried for his brothers safety.

“......no, but...” his brother sounded hesitant.

Lennie nodded thought his brother couldn’t see it, “I know...I’m gonna call Dad. You just uh....are you in a public place?”

“As we’re all eldritch creatures here and can cast illusions I don’t see why that matters...” Billy replied a bit snarkily though it was clear to his brother he was trying to joke a just a bit.

Lennie stopped and made a face then chuckled, “You have a point but uh...just stay safe. Text me your location and I’ll be there with dad in a bit.” He hung up the phone. Turning around he found Ula with Mana, “Was that Uncle Billy?” “Yeah I gotta go see him and dad for a little bit, I’m gonna go tell mom alright.” He gave her a smile. He was anxious but trying not to show it but also hopeful, perhaps not everyone on that side of the family was...well to put it lightly. A cold hearted bitch. He kissed the top of Ula’s head and headed off to tell Jelly what was going on. She wasn’t gonna like it he was sure of that.

Meanwhile Cecilio was hanging out in the park having a good old lie down in a hammock. It was a public park nothing against hanging out for a while. His eyes slowly started to close, as he lay in the warmth of the sun.

“So peaceful” He mumbled to himself.

Suddenly his phone rang, causing him to jump and roll right out of the hammock onto the ground, “Ah shit!” He stood up and held his back for dramatic affect, “My bones!” he reached into his pocket and flipped open the little phone, “Hello?”

“Dad?”

Cecilio smiled, it was Lennie. He was so happy to hear from him despite the minor pain he just experienced. “Heya boy-o what’s shaking?” Lennie sighed and seemed to take a moment which worried him. “uh...did Thyone um....I think you should meet me at Billys.” He said rather tiredly. Cecilio frowned, Thyone was dead what trouble had she caused from beyond the grave. He just nodded despite Lennie not being able to see it, “Yeah I’ll be there in a jiff. See ya soon.” He shut the phone up and started hurrying.

It took a while, Lennie couldn’t teleport without a source of water. So he had to take a cab, not too big a deal. But it took longer to get to Billy’s. Apparently Cecilio had gotten their before him waiting by the steps of Billy’s home. Lennie quickly got out and ran to him, “Did you knock?” Cecilio nodded and soon enough Maggie had opened the door. She motioned for them to come in. “You doing alright Tweety?” asked Cecilio concerned. She shrugged, “Um....I don’t know. I’m on edge if I’m honest but...other than that I don’t know.” She closed the door behind them.

Lennie motioned elsewhere, “Where’s Billy?” Maggie frowned a bit and showed them to the living room off to the side. Billy was standing off away from the person in his home glaring. The woman sitting on the couch didn’t seem bothered at all and just smiled.

She looked up at the new comers and smiled warmly when seeing Lennie, “You must be his brother. It’s so good to finally meet you.” Lennie had mixed feelings. “I understand your hesitance knowing my younger sister. She wasn’t....” She hesitated but smiled, “Anyway, I’m sad to hear she’s gone.”

“So you’ve come for revenge then..” growled Billy. The woman shook her head, “not at all, I’ve come to finally meet you is all. I knew if I was around it would have made things harder for you all as she never really liked me.”

During this Maggie looked to Cecilio and he had the same expression as her. He just shrugged and used a finger to close his own dropped jaw. 

Cecilio frowned the thing happening with this woman was what he had to go through with everyone when he came around though not to this extent, “How...How do we know you are telling the truth?” She looked at him her smile going down just a bit, “Hmm I suppose I don’t have any proof that I’m not like her. Except....Billy?”

Billy hardened his glare on her which only made her laugh, “I want you to think back to a time when you were young. When you were with your mother.” Billy growled. The woman just gave a sad smile, “I know it was a tough time, but I want you to remember. When you were all by yourself in that tiny little room she gave you.” Billy continued his glare on her, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on his crossed arms. “You had a stuffed animal, a tiger. Do you remember that, you named it Mister Bently.”

Lennie, Maggie and Cecilio all looked at Billy. He blushed just a tinge and growled, “Maybe...it doesn’t matter as she destroyed it once she finally found it. How do you know any of that.” “Cause I was the one who gave it to you.” She admitted, “I wasn’t able to do anything except comfort you. If I had shown myself or tried to take you away. She would have killed both of us. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to help.” She looked at the floor avoiding Billy’s gaze. He held his glare.

Lennie spoke up, “How were you able to give that to Billy without Thyone knowing though...” Even he was suspicious at this news. “I’m able to block my scent from others, but I can’t do the same for anyone around me. Which is why if I took Billy at the time she surely would have found us both and killed us.”

This was all very.....intense news for Maggie. So she decided to delve a little into the future to see if they could truly trust her while the others asked her questions.

Cecilio was just shocked at this point, “Is there....no offense. More of you?” “Me and one more, the others are gone.” admitted the woman. “um well.. I’m Cecilio.” He said with an awkward wave of his hand and a grin. She smiled, “Tilde..The Untamed. Pleasure to finally meet you.” “So were you around when me and her were....” he tried to ask without really saying it. “Oh no...I was wandering looking for the other lost relatives of ours. I was only able to find the one. She’s somewhere else on this planet. Her and Thyone were twins, never got along well.”

“Twins seem to be a thing in the family.” muttered Cecilio. “Definitely, I had a twin brother as well.” admitted Tilde. “Oooh and I guess he’s also...”

“Dead..yes.” She said.

awkward silence ensued.

It was hours later. Tilde admitted to having helped Lennie and Billy on multiple occasions without their knowledge of her. Having only found Billy when he was with Thyone. And then Lennie when he was with the Elder Calliope.

Right as Maggie was about to speak and tell them what she knows. In walked Amaranthus with Mune following behind her. Tilde stood up surprised and Amaranthus stood surprised. Her little eyebrows furrowed and she pointed and Tilde pointed at her with a big grin.

��A grand Niece!”

“A Stranger!”

they both shouted at once, causing everyone to make a face of some sort. 

“She’s adorable!” Tilde commented, “Is she yours? She looks like you.” She looked at Billy who continued his glare on her, “...yes.” Maggie stood close by Amaranthus just in case. Tilde kept her distance though she knew she had to show she could be trusted, “Hey there.” She bent down on one knee, “My names Tilde. I’m your great aunt. What’s your name dear?” Amaranthus grabbed Mune’s hand and pulled him into a protective hug, “...Amaranthus.” She said mumbling. “Such a pretty and unique name. I love your friend, did you make them.” Ama shook her head, “My Doll Grandma made him for me.”

“Doll grandma? oh right Calliope...that’s right Calliope. If you don’t believe me, believe Calliope. She knows me!”

Lennie frowned, “If she knows you why hasn’t she said anything to us?” “Because I told her not too, please just ask her.”

Maggie sighed a small smile on her face, “I believe you.” Tilde looked at Maggie surprised, “You do?” “Yes, I may have peeked a little into the future or some of them. Plus with how you talked with Ama, really shows you aren’t like your sister..” Tilde smiled in relief and sighed happily, “oh thank you.” Billy was harder to convince, “I still don’t trust you.” Tilde frowned, “Well then I guess my only hope is Calliope. Anyway...I wanted to ask since little Ama here is around. Are there others? Did you have any little ones?” She looked at Lennie smiling.

“Yeah..I have a daughter and a son. and another one on the way.” Lennie was far more willing to trust than his brother, but he didn’t blame Billy for that. Tilde smiled a big toothy grin, “So many grand nieces and nephews oh my. I can’t wait to meet everyone but...in due time. I assume then that means you have a mate~ What’s their name?”

“Her name is Jelly, she’s...amazing” Lennies face was like that of a lovesick fool but he composed himself and cleared his throat. “You two have grown up so much. I’m so proud, and I’m sorry for everything.” With that she opened the window and leapt out into the forest beyond. Leaving everyone with mixed feelings.

“So...” Everyone turned to Ama since she has spoken up. “I like her! When’s she coming back?”

#Auntie Tiger #and hopefully she gets a real name as I write this #oc #clown #deadlight #Tilde The Untamed

[supersleepygoat]

Glass Houses: Part Two

Pairing: Sam x Sister!Reader, MOC!Dean x Sister!Reader, Styne Family

Summary: After you left the bunker, you take on a few case. You get some experience under you belt but let overconfidence lead you into a dangerous situation that would be better left for your brothers. Set in Dark Dynasty (10.21).

Word Count: 6,042

Warning: Angst. Violence. Mention of Character Death. TW: Mentions of Rape. Nonconsensual Blood Play. Nonconsensual Knife Play. (No Explicit Smut)

Part One

Masterlist

You had just gotten off the phone with your boyfriend, Nathan. You had left the bunker and pulled off to the side of the road. You needed to talk to him. Talking to him always puts you at ease. But as soon as you hang up the phone, that ease morphs into dread.

You curse yourself for being unable to let him go. It is selfish and you know it. He will always be in danger as long as he is in your life. But you love him. In a different world, you know without a doubt he would be your end game. He would be the one to save you. He would give you the apple pie life you know you should want. But that’s not who you are. You will never be the girl who could walk away from her family to start a new one.

No matter how your brothers make you feel about yourself, Nate always grounds you. He tells you how special and capable he thinks you are. And for a moment, you believe him. So, in a perfect world, he would be who you are driving to right now. But, instead you are headed out of town and seeking out danger. You are a Winchester. There is no apple pie life waiting for you. Everyone knows how the game really ends for a Winchester.

As much as it killed you, you had to lie to Nate. You had to tell him your brothers took you out of town and you’d be gone for a while. You know you have to end it with him when you get back. But you don’t have the strength to burn that bridge right now. That bridge holds a view of hope, so you’re not ready to watch it burn quite yet.

Besides, Nate deserves for you to explain yourself in person. But if you show up now with this bruise on your cheek, he’ll only go on a testosterone induced rampage. He has always hated the fact your brothers push you aside. He hates that they treat you like a second-class Winchester. So, if you tell him things have escalated to a physical level, he’ll only see red. He won’t listen to a word you say. And, you need him to hear you. He needs to understand that he will always be the best thing that ever happened to you.

But, your destiny is to pursue the family business. Whether your brothers like it or not, for you there is no getting out of this life. You want to fight alongside your brothers. It’s what you’ve always wanted. So, it’s not safe for Nate to be attached to you or this life. You need to let him go before he ends up like Jessica or Lisa. He deserves better than the danger that comes with being with you. He deserves better than you.

You started small. You left your brothers only three weeks ago but you already have two solo cases under your belt.

The first was a simple salt and burn. Unfortunately, the ghost’s human body had been cremated. But, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the jilted lover’s spirit was tied to her wedding ring. Her unfaithful husband still wore it on a chain around his neck. Little did he know, he was carrying around a beacon for pain. You burnt the tarnish silver symbol and moved on.  

The second case was a step up. Your first demon. You didn’t have the demon knife or an angel blade so you had to rely on an good old-fashioned exorcism to get rid of the thing. It worked out because you were able to save the meat suit, or Shannon as she preferred to be called. She was shaken up but grateful you were able to spare her.

After you prove your point and you return home to your brothers, you may have a talk with them. You will remind them that they tend to forget that the meat suits are really people. They use the demon knife and angel blade as if the quick solution is the only solution. But there is another way. Maybe they could learn something from their useless baby sister after all.

You are running on a string of highs. Are you getting a bit cocky? Perhaps, but you feel as though you are finally doing something useful with your life. You are no longer waiting at home for your brothers to get back from a hunt. You are no longer living vicariously through their stories of heroism. You are the one who is living now. You are the one making a difference.

You know what you’re doing is dangerous. If you had a clear mind, you would realize your luck is bound to wear out eventually. But you are misguided by the illusion that Winchesters always come out on top. You are starting to feel untouchable. If your brothers were here, they would be able to teach you that arrogance is a leading cause of death among hunters. But, they aren’t here. That is lesson you will have to learn for yourself.

One more. You decided one more hunt will do the trick. If you can close three cases all on your own, your brothers will have no choice. They will have to acknowledge that you are a capable hunter. You have enjoyed being on your own but it’s gotten a little lonely.

The whole reason you wanted to start hunting was so you could spend more time with your brothers. You want them to include you in their lives. You don’t want to hunt just for the sake of hunting. This little trial period of solo hunts is merely a means to an end. The end goal will always be to be accepted by your brothers. You are doing this so you can fight with them, not against them.

You may want their love and approval, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still pissed at them, especially Dean. But like any other set of siblings, your best revenge will be to make them feel like shit for ever doubting you. You can’t wait to stroll back into the bunker and throw Baby’s keys back at Dean. He’ll see you were responsible enough to take good care of his favourite girl. There’s not a scratch on her. Then, you’ll tell them every gory detail of your hunts. They’ll realize just how much of a badass you are.

They’ll be mad, Dean may even kick your ass again. But they’ll be proud of you, they have to be.  But if they are still unwilling to acknowledge you, then at the very least you have proven to yourself that you are a legitimate hunter. You will just continue going at it alone until they let you in. You won’t give up.

For your last case, you found something a little odd. It’s not a classic monster like a ghost or a vampire. But rather, it is something that is just too gross to not be your kind of case. You going to prove that you can handle even the weird cases.

So, you’re headed to Omaha, Nebraska. A woman was reported to have her throat slit and her eyes gouged out. Not to mention, the guy who done it jumped out of a third story window and ran away without so much as a limp. Definitely your kind of weird.

Your best guess is that he may be another Doc Benton. Sam and Dean told you all about that creep. Plus, you read about someone like him in your dad’s journal. These types of monsters were once human. But they harvest the organs of young and healthy people to remain immortal. You assume that’s why he only took the victim’s eyes. Luckily, John’s journal told you that if you burn them alive, they will stay dead.

You were in a nearby town when you caught the case. It didn’t take long to drive to the scene. By the time you and Baby pulled up to the office building, the victim’s body was still inside. The janitor who found the girl and saw the killer’s great escape wasn’t very helpful. He was too shaken up to tell you anything more than what you heard over the police radio.

The building manager shows you security footage of the man’s three-story jump. Either than the fact he walked away without even a scratch, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the man. He looked human. But you know looks can be deceiving in this line of work. At least now you know his face. You know who you are looking for.

The manager gives you all the information he has on his murderous renter. You know it is all probably fake names and bogus addresses, but you have to start somewhere.

“More FBI?” The building’s landlord asks Sam and Dean as they each flash their badge.

“What do you mean more?” Dean asks with slight irritation. He hates when the real feds intrude on their cases. They always get territorial over their jurisdiction. Dean doesn’t have the patience right now to get into a pissing contest. He has a job to do and prefers to do it without interference.

“Yeah, an Agent Hart was here yesterday. That girl looked like she was barely out of diapers. You guys are recruiting them young now, aren’t ya?” The man asks.

Sam and Dean share a knowing look. Sam’s eyes widen as Dean’s narrows. You always used to babble about what fake FBI names you would use. Agent Hart was always at the top of your list. The brothers lost count of how many times you made them watch Miss Congeniality. So, they would know that name anywhere.

“Is this her?” Dean asks while showing the man a picture of you on his phone. The picture is of you sitting on Dean’s lap while you force him to smile for the camera.

“Yep. That’s her,” The land lord confirms. “You two close? Luck man,” he gives Dean a coy smile.

Dean does not return that slimy smirk. Instead, he clenches his jaw and holds himself back from punching the man. He hates the idea of anyone sexualizing his baby sister. You’re better than that.

Sam reads Dean’s reaction and steps between the two men. “Did she leave a phone number for you to reach her?” Sam asks with hope in his voice.

“Uh, yeah” the man says while he searches his wallet for your card. When he goes to hand it to Sam, Dean reaches over and snatches it away. Dean is about to leave the room when the man interrupts him. “Don’t you want to see what I showed her?” He asks reminding the agents why they were there in the first place.

The brothers crowd around the man’s tablet. He plays the security footage of the perp’s miraculous escape.

“Wait, freeze there. Zoom in,” Sam directs. The footage clearly shows the man is sporting a distinctive tattoo on his right forearm.  

“Same ink as the Styne’s,” Dean says what both brothers are thinking.

In a panic, Sam pulls Dean away from the other man’s earshot. “Dean, if this is the Stynes, and Y/N is working this case, then she doesn’t know what she’s walking into. She left the bunker before Charlie called us about the Book of the Damned! She doesn’t know anything about what the Stynes are capable of or how hard they are to kill!” Sam informs his brother.

Dean’s teeth grind together. Before Sam can blink, Dean’s fist collides with the nearest piece of drywall. He shakes his now bloodied knuckles. “Son of a bitch!”

Sam looks back at the horrified landlord. “You can send the bill for repairs to head office,” Sam says with a sheepish smile. He hurries his brother out of the room before Dean snaps again.

Dean pushes his brother’s guiding hand off of him. “We need to find her, Sammy! Now!” Dean barks.  

Over the past few weeks, Dean’s sole focus has been on finding you. However, Sam has split his attention between finding you and trying to find a way to remove Dean’s mark. But now, his missions have collided. Now more than ever, both brothers are feeling the urgency. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.

Dean and Sam get into the crappy car they have been forced to use since your departure. Dean slams the door shut behind him. “How could she be so stupid? I raised her better than this. She knows better than to…” Dean is too infuriated to finish his train of thought. You’re going to get yourself killed trying to prove a point to your brothers. The fear inside of Dean is morphing into uncontrollable anger. “I am going to kill all those Frankenstein sons of bitches if they so much as lay a finger one her!” Dean grips the wheel and peels out of the parking lot.

“Agent Hart,” you greet into the receiver of your phone. You love pretending to be professional.

“Y/N?” You hear Sam’s soft voice and your stomach drops.

“S-Sam?”

You hear shuffling on the other end of the phone. The next voice you hear makes you heart stop. You thought you were over it. You told yourself you that what Dean said and did to you was driven by the mark. That wasn’t your brother. You thought you were over it. But even hearing his hardened voice makes fearful tears pool in your eyes. Your bruises have long since healed but all the sudden you can feel your cheek sting again right where he hit you.

“Where the fuck are you?” Dean growls at you. Your eyes widen. You knew he would be mad that your left. You knew he would be pissed about you taking Baby. But, you thought his rage would have eased in the three weeks he has had to cool down. “You know what, it doesn’t matter,” Dean stops you before you can respond. “Get your ass back to the bunker, now! You have no idea what you’re dealing with, kid!”

Your anger rises to match Dean’s. He still refuses to acknowledge you. He still insists on treating you like a child. Apparently, you still have something to prove. You’ll take care of this weirdo all on your own. Then, you’ll rub it in his condescending face.

“I know exactly what I’m dealing with! A freak who has been harvesting people’s organs so he can live longer. I even know his name, Eldon Styne. Plus, I know where to find him,” you inform your brothers. You’re proud of all the information you have been able to dig up in such a short time. This guy left more a paper trail than you were expecting. He’s kind of sloppy.

“No, Y/N! Don’t you dare! It’s more than that! That ‘freak’ and his family aren’t something you can take on alone! These aren’t amateurs you’re dealing with, Y/N. So, they can’t be taken down by an amateur!”

In Dean’s misguided mind, he thinks he actually doing a good job in convincing you to back down. But, all he is doing is riling you up. Before, you had something to prove. Now, you feel like closing this case out of spite.

“I can do this! I may be new at this but I’m not an idiot. I am careful and I am capable. Back off, Dean!” You bite at your brother before hanging up on him. As if beating you down wasn’t enough. He always has to pour salt into your wounds by making you feel inferior.

You turn your phone off and pull out the battery. You have a long drive a head of you. You don’t need your phone ringing incessantly. Nor do you need your brothers tracking you down through GPS. You pull the map out of Baby’s glove compartment and find your route to Shreveport, Louisiana.

“Here’s how you redeem yourself. First, clean up your mess in Omaha. Next, you will track down these Winchesters who murdered your brother Jacob and who may now have in their possession the Book of the Damned” Monroe Styne instructs his son.

“It will be done,” Eldon responds with fearful obedience. He knows his father is not one to make idle threats. If he fails to deliver again, he will lose his position as heir and will become the family lab rat.

Eldon and his goons leave his father office on a mission.

Just then, you pull up to the cute yellow house. The mouldings scream southern charm. But the two armed men guarding the front door, tells you that you are exactly where you need to be. You did a little research on the Styne family. Their history isn’t as developed as you first assumed it would be. They seemed to have popped up in the 1800s out of nowhere and have been causing trouble ever since. If you had access to the bunkers library, you may have been able to learn more. But for now, all you need to know is that they kill people to harvest their body parts. Which means they fall under your jurisdiction.

You sneak around to the back porch and slip into the house through the kitchen. You are armed to the teeth. But so far no one has gotten in your way.

The further you slip into the house, the faster your heart starts to race. You see a group of men discussing something in the hall in front of you. To stay hidden, you slip into what you think is an empty room.  

You close the door behind you. You jump out of your skin when you hear a throat clear from across the room. You raise your gun and point it in the direction of the sound.

The man looking down your barrel doesn’t seem phased in the least.

“And who might you be?” Monroe asks you with a curious smile. His southern drawl would be charming if he didn’t look like evil incarnate.

“I’m the girl who’s going to kill you,” you inform him. You try to match his threatening persona but can’t help but feel like you’re failing miserably.

Monroe laughs a genuine laugh. He gets out of his seat. “Drink?” He raises a pitcher of sweet tea in your direction.

You narrow your eyes at him in confusion. You’re not in the mood for small talk. So, you pull your trigger you land a shot straight in his heart. He doesn’t fall. He barely even flinches. 

The gun shot didn’t kill him. But, it did alert the house to your presence. Within minutes, the door is kicked open and all the men from the hall barge into the room. Every shot you land hits their mark dead on but these men do not fall. It is as if the bullets barley leaves a sting.

It doesn’t take long for you to be surrounded. Your gun is kicked out of your hand and you are stripped of all your weapons, except they never find the knife in your boot. You are pushed onto your knees as your own gun is pointed at your head. You recognize the man holding you down as the man from the video, Eldon.

“Shall we try this one more time, girly? Who are you?” the grey-haired man asks you again.

You debate your options. Sassing him will only get you killed faster. So, you decide to try a little honesty. “Y/N Winchester. And I’m guessing you’re the patriarch of this little band of killers. You must be so proud,” you feign a smile up at the man. You told yourself you weren’t going to sass the man with a gun to your head but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“I have my moments. But tell me darling’, Winchester? Any relation to Sam and Dean?” the older man asks you.

You shift on your knees. “Y-You know my brothers?” You hate how shaky your voice comes out. But you’re starting to realize Dean may have been right. He may have warned you about this family for reason. You thought he was just being an asshole who thought you couldn’t handle any situation. But you’re starting to understand he was referring to this specific situation as being above your paygrade.

“They killed my eldest boy,” all charm is gone from Monroe’s voice. He steps forward so he is towering over your kneeling and helpless form. His lips fall into a hard line. He contemplates what to do with you. You can see his wheels turning against your favour. He is no doubt imagining the most painful way to kill you or which parts of you to harvest. That thought makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Daddy, the girl may be useful.” Eldon interrupts his father when he sees the murderous glint in his eyes. “If she really is their sister, I think they’d be willing to make a trade. We give them her and they give us the book. Those Winchesters seem just stupid enough to think it would be a fair trade.” Eldon offers a solution.

Monroe considers his options for a moment. “No,” he states with finality. “We do not barter with animals. That is beneath us. We will get the book back on our own terms. They stole from us and we shall not negotiate.”

“Then what are we to do with this one?” Eldon nudges you with his knee and you stumble off balance.

“She is a Winchester. You know as well as I do the power of Winchester blood. The Winchester lineage is a lot like ours in many ways, special.”

“So, what do you want to do, bleed her out?” Eldon asks slightly confused.

Now you think is a good time to clarify a few things. “I am only their half-sister! I don’t have any of that special sauce you are talking about. I’m just a-” a firm back handed slap across your cheek cuts you off.

“Don’t be stupid, boy. Think bigger. She may only be a half breed Winchester but she is still a Winchester. And Winchester blood will mix well with our own. It will add a certain potency to our linage. Strengthen the family tree so to speak. I’ll tell you what, we’ll make a deal. Cousin Eli seems to think you are incapable of handling your assignment on your own,” Monroe addresses his son. “prove him wrong. Kill that little redheaded who stole my book and I’ll give you the girl as a reward. She can be yours.”

“To do what with, exactly?” There is a glint of hope in Eldon voice that makes you shudder. But Eldon needs to clarify his father’s meaning before he lets his hopes run wild.

“You expect me to spell it out for you! You are my son and heir! That means you too will need an heir one day. Breed your new bitch. I don’t care how it happens. Marry her or simply lock her up in the basement and breed her when she’s at peak fertility. Like I said, I don’t care. But, you will mix our bloodlines.”

“Yes, Daddy!” Eldon beams with excitement. He reaches down to pick your stupefied body off the ground but Monroe slaps the back of his head to stop him.

“What the hell you doing, son?” Monroe shouts. “I said she is you reward for you fulfilling your duties! You have already disappointed me today. You have not earned your reward yet. You don’t get her until the job is done. And, if you fail… she will go to the man who can follow orders.” Monroe’s eye travels from his son over to his nephew Eli. A little familial completion is guaranteed to get the job done, especially since the incentive to succeed is so sweet. “You boys better get going. But leave her with me.” Monroe turns his attention to you. “We have some things to discuss. She will be well prepped in her expectations for your return.”

You are pulled off the ground. The feeling of someone touching you pulls you out of your shocked state. You fight against their manhandling with all the strength you have. But they drag you along like your violent efforts mean nothing. You are knocked around like a ragdoll. You can’t help but feel the same way you did at the bunker. Dean kept knocking you down so easily. You should have listened to him when he told you that you weren’t ready, you weren’t strong enough. Now, your overconfidence in your own abilities has condemned you to a nightmare.

Eldon tries to strap you to a wooden chair but your limbs refuse to comply. You scratch at his face and make his job as difficult as possible.

“Control your broodmare! If you cannot handle her now, how can I trust you to handle the breeding process?” Monroe shouts at his son.

Your eyes widen in fear but a full fisted punch to your temple knocks the fear out of you. Your mind goes hazy and your muscles go limp just long enough for Eldon to tie you down. You are brought back to reality when he leans in and kisses your temple. He puts his lips right over where his fist just landed. “I promise not to mark up your face anymore after this. It was just this once. But don’t think that the rest of you isn’t fair game,” he smiles against your skin. You pull on your restraints as tears pool in our eyes.

“Enough! Get to work. She’ll be waiting here for your successful return. Do not come back without that redhead’s blood on your sword,” Monroe threatens his son one last time.

Eldon nods and leaves the room without another word.

The throbbing in your head is dulled by the disgust bubbling within you. “If you know my brothers, then you know they will kill you. They’ll find out I’m here one way or another. Then, you are all dead!” You spit your venom at the patriarch. You hate the idea that you are relying on your brothers to save you. You want to save yourself. But right now, that isn’t an option. You only hope you didn’t cover your tracks as well as you thought you did and Sam and Dean find you before it’s too late.

“Time for a history lesson, girly.” Monroe says ignoring your every threat. “By the time school is out of session, you will understand the full power of my family… excuse my rudeness, our family.” He offers you a wicked smile. “We have been funding destruction for centuries. We cannot be taken down by the likes of your brothers. So, you may as well settle in. You are one of us now, sweetheart.”

“I will never be a part of your twisted family! You can take your egomaniacal self-indulgence and shove it up your-” a firm hand closes over your throat and blocks your words from coming out.

“This is a goddamn privilege! Baring Styne children is a gift. You will be grateful or will not like what happens next!” The pure rage in his eyes is more threatening than his words.

The forceful hold over your throat is causing your vison to blacken. Monroe loosens his grip and stands up straight. He walks back over to his desk and takes a seat. All he does is stare at you while he waits for you to choke the air back into your lungs.

“You finished? We have a lot of ground to cover.” Monroe says as he leans forward in his chair and interlocks his fingers.

After your family history lesson, you were left to sit alone in Monroe’s office. He didn’t seem to have an issue leaving you alone. He says he trusts his new daughter to behave then left. It feels like you have been sitting here for days on end. Although the agonizing cuckoo clock on the wall tells you it has only been a few of hours. You struggle against your restraints to reach the knife still in your boot but the ropes are too tight. You have to wait until someone comes to untie you.

The hours tick by but no one comes for you. No one comes to feed you or let you go to the bathroom. Exhaustion takes you over and you drift to sleep. You don’t know how long you were out for but you are awoken to the study door bursting open. You jolt awake and try to ready yourself for a fight, but then you remember you are strapped to a chair.

To your surprise, it isn’t Monroe but rather Eldon who comes through the door. He drops his bloodied knife onto his father’s desk. He turns to you with a triumphant smile. “I held up my end of the bargain. Father says I can play for a while before I go find your brothers. He says it is important to reward small victories. It prompts motivation for further success.”

He takes a step toward you. “Touch me and I will rip your lungs out!” you threaten the man using Dean’s best line.

Eldon clenches his jaw before crossing the room and punching you in the stomach. If you weren’t restrained you would have doubled over in pain. He is a man of his word, you have to give him that. He didn’t touch your face.

“I thought Father taught you your place here, bitch? You don’t get a say in what happens to you. Your body is mine and your womb belong to our family now. Get in line or I’ll have to put you there,” Eldon threatens you. “I earned you. I am entitled to my reward,” he says as if you are bartering over gold stickers and not your body.

“You didn’t earn shit! Your father is not in charge of when I spread my legs! You can go fuck yourself but leave me out of it!” You spit at the man in front of you.

“You got a mouth on you, girl. No wonder your brothers sent you into the lion’s den all on your own. They were probably itching to get rid of you and that smart lip. I am probably doing them a service taking you off their hands and putting that tongue to better use.”

Before you can correct him, Eldon lunges forward and claims your mouth in bruising kiss. You struggle against your restraints and try to jerk your head away. But a firm hand grasps your hair and holds you in place. You bite his intruding tongue but that earns you another punch to the stomach.

Eldon pushes away from you and walks back over to his father’s desk. He picks up his bloodied and discarded knife before coming back over to you.

“Do you know whose blood this is?” He asks you as he crouches down to your eye level.

You shake your head because your swollen lips are too afraid to part.

“I believe you know her. Apparently, she is a family friend of you Winchesters.” Eldon licks some of the blood off his knife and your cringe with disgust. “Charlene… Caroline…” Eldon struggles to remember her name.

“C-Charlie?” you squeak with utter dread.

Eldon’s wicked smile of affirmation is his only response. You heart drops into your stomach as violent tears stream down your cheeks. You had no idea Charlie was the redhead they were talking about earlier. Why didn’t you make that connection? Why didn’t you kill them when you had the chance? Now, Charlie is dead because you couldn’t handle them on your own. She is dead because of you.

Your head is hung low but Eldon hooks his finger under your chin. Your watering eyes meet his empty ones. He licks his blade again. Then, he kisses you again. You can taste Charlie’s blood on his tongue and you sob into his mouth.

He cuts you free of your restraints and throws you over his shoulder. You kick against him and let out a string of curses as he carries up the stairs to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him then throws you onto his bed.

“Strip,” to him it is such a simple demand.

You start by taking off your boot. The second it is off your foot you reach inside the lining and pull out your knife. You swipe it across his face and leave a nasty gash. He doesn’t even wince.

There is no pain in his eyes, only rage. He grasps your wrists and bends it back until the bone snaps and you let go of your little knife. You whimper in pain but he pays you no mind. He picks up your knife and pushes you onto your back. He hovers in over you and holds the knife to your throat.

“Kiss it better,” he orders you. When you refuse to move he presses the knife into your skin until it draws blood. You debate whether you should let him kill you, it would be better than being his bitch. But, you know he won’t let you off that easy.

You lean forward and kiss his cheek, right above the bloody cut you left there. That simple act causes bile to rise in your throat. 

“I’m sure you can do better than that. Let me show you how it’s done,” Eldon says as he takes the knife and cuts along your collarbone. A line of blood appears and you bite back your cries of pain. He lowers his mouth onto you wound. He sucks and kisses the cut until there is no more blood dripping down your chest. ���Just like that,” he says when he’s finished. “Your turn!” he leans his cheek closer to you. 

You refuse to reciprocate.

He clenches his jaw. “Fine then. I guess I’ll just have to keep going until you get the memo.” He rips open your shirt and starts cutting into the skin along your chest and stomach. You writhe in pain as it is a never-ending pattern of cutting and sucking. He holds you down with his inhuman strength and forces you to endure his confusing torture. The knife hurts but his lips heal.

His trail ends at the hem of your jeans. But soon he takes them off you and cuts your panties off you too. You have been naked in front of a man before but you have never felt so exposed. He keeps your legs spread as he places the cold blade against your core.

“Please don’t,” you beg him through the tears. You are starting to realize just how bad he could make this.

“Shh, baby girl.” He crawls back up your body. “I would never cut you there… unless you asked me nicely. No, I plan on ruining your pretty little pussy in a different way.” He smiles at you and you hear him unbuckle his slacks.

You kick, punch, scream, and beg. But you are no match for him. You have a broken wrist and mere human strength. He will have his way, whether you like it or not.

He takes you. You try to close your eyes and pretend it is Nate splitting you open but Eldon forces you keep your eyes open. He wants you to watch as he lays his claim. He owns you now and each brutal thrust seals the deal. You push Nate out of your mind.

Soon the Styne’s seed will paint your walls. You stopped fighting him. You figure this is your punishment for being unable to prevent Charlie’s death. You deserve all the pain, violation, and humiliation.

At some point during the night, you stopped wishing your brothers would find you. You don’t want them to see how quickly you broke, how quickly you crumbled under Eldon’s forceful hand. You don’t want them to see how weak you are.

You don’t want them to say I told you so.

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#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #sister!winchester #sister!reader #dean x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #angst #trigger warning #tw: noncon

[trickstersantana]

[PARA] We got illusions, we got hoodoo, we got things we didn’t even tried!

Who: Santana, Matt @gotmattitude Daisy and Sydney Location:  Undique Stadium Time: 4th August 2018 Summary: Santana and Matt fight, there is training of dark powers and talks about romantic feelings. The familiars are there and they are very cute. Triggers/Notes: Violence, bees, insects

Santana just got out of the hospital, and what better way to celebrate than fighting a friend? She arrived with Matt to Undique, and went into a private room. She checked there was no other person around "Ready to practice your secret dark magic, hoodoo guy?"

Matt could really use a duel, and getting to stretch the shadow muscle in a context where he wasn't fighting for his life would be a new, interesting thing to explore. He looked around to see if they were really alone, even though Santana had just done it. "You fucking bet I am." He hesitated for a moment, looking right at  Santana as he thought about something. "And I've been wanting to try..." Matt said, and summoned Sydney. "Santana, this is Sydney, Syd, this is Santana." He gestured at the appropriate person/quokka when he said their names. "I hear folks fight with their familiars, right?"

Santana looked down. Oh great, a giant rodent. I love those so much. No. I don't. She thinks, looking at what she thought was a wombat. She sighs. "I don't have a fa-" she tried to say, but got interrupted by Daisy appearing from her tattoo to fight. Daisy does a victory happy moo, happy to be there. "Anyway..." Santana continue. "I don't have a familiar appreciation as most of the magic community has. But this is my emergency food I guess" She says pointing at Daisy. "Let's... let's just fight."

Matt could tell Santana wasn't into Sydney that much. He briefly considered sending her back to the Aether, but... it was pretty brief. His jaw dropped comically when the cow appeared, feeling a tug on his chest. "That's the most beautiful fucking cow I've ever seen." He stares for a few seconds, raising a brow at Santana's remark. "You're not gonna eat her," he said, sort of unsure. "But yeah, let's do this shit. Tell me if you're starting to feel like shit, okay?" Sydney hops over to stand right in front of him, as he begins to cast.

@Matt 🌊:  1d12+1  = (6)+1 = 7  @Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (4) = 4 

Santana sighs to Matt' reaction. Why everyone liked her shitty cow so much. "It's just a cow." She puts her arms in her hips, instead of putting a fight posture, and laughs a bit. "C'mon, you hurt me once after I was struck by a trickster bitch goddes, and you think you can beat me? You are in for a ride, Matt!" She says sure of herself, knowing pretty well she should start considering not believing she was always the strongest, but not doing it anyway.   

<<Lock,>> Matt casts, and he feels the flow of Santana's shadow towards his. Sydney's shadow also merges, but she doesn't flinch. She's standing on all four limbs, in as much of a stalking gesture as a quokka can manage, but he can see she's interested in the cow. Sydney takes a moment to tell her: 'You're gorgeous, Ms. Cow!' Matt chuckles for a second before turning to Santana again. "Yeah, yeah, I know you're the number one badass and you always kick my ass when we fight, but still, gotta be safe." He pictures the energy flowing from Santana to his shadow, and casts again. <<Drain.>>  

@Matt 🌊:  1d12  = (2) = 2  @Santana 🐮 :  1d6  = (4) = 4

Matt can almost feel the shadow slip from him, like he was grasping something slimy with clumsy fingers, and the shock of it kicks him back.  

Santana is too distracted with the familiars, looking at them in exasperation, and then she felt that draining feeling again. "Ugh" She complains trying to step down.  She couldn't run away from her shadow. But she had experience on fighting intangible dangers, she was an illusionist for god's sake. If you can't defend yourself from harm, attack as a defense. She illusioned Matt's shadow attacking him, trying to imitate what he did with shadows. Meanwhile, Daisy winked very fast, flustered by the compliment. "Thank you, quokka friend. I am very happy we can meet" she moos very slowly. Santana glares at her "What are you talking about?"

Matt's own shadow was attacking him. The pit of his stomach twisted into itself; this had never happened before. In the moment that it took for him to pull his arms over his head and panic, he realized it was likely an illusion, but his heart still pounded quickly against his rib cage. At the same time, Sydney and Matt answer Daisy and Santana, respectively. 'Too right! I'm Sydney. You're so smart! Matt had to ask me what I was. Not that he's not smart!' comes from the quokka's telepathic message, while Matt asks: "What do you mean, what am I talking about? Being safe is good, you know." Still shaken, he fishes for a mojo bag in his pocket, and blows some of the dusty contents towards Santana as he casts <<Run, it's fun!>>

@Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (4) = 4 @Santana 🐮 :  1d6+1  = (4)+1 = 5

Santana shakes her head when she notices she was about to tell Matt she was actually asking the cow. In what did she had become. She dodges what Matt is throwing at her. "C'mon piece of meat, stop talking and do something useful! Charge!" She says pointing at Matt. Daisy moos"You are so nice, quokka friend" With Santana's command, Daisy runs to give Matt a hug. If you though cows couldn't run, you were wrong. They were hornless bulls.

Matt huffed when Santana dodged the spell, and then yelped when he saw Daisy charging at him. She had been so adorable one second, and now he didn't question that she could kill him in a second. This was exactly like last year's July-a-thon, with only one cow. And her orders were to charge. She knocked him off balance, and some of the air in his stomach came out in a puff. "Beautiful and badass. Fucking amazing!" Matt said, completely sincerely. He couldn't resist giving Daisy a little pat on the head, before reaching in to coat a tiny pink bouncy ball in the same dust he'd tried to use earlier, changing up the casting. <<Those feet look like running feet to me!>>

@Matt 🌊:  1d6+2  = (4)+2 = 6 @Santana 🐮 :  1d6  = (1) = 1

Daisy put her head on Matt's arm with fondness, eyes closes, and did an appreciative moo for him. What a good man. Santana rolled her eyes. "Future hamburger, you can leave now, you know" She said, distracting herself again while Matt did his spell. She started running in circles, wthout any control. One thing was getting hurt, wich she wasn't ok with, but she kind of accepted as normal on a fight. but other thing was getting  humilliated. That wasn't cool, that's the type of thing she would do to others, not the type of thing she should suffer "Hey!!" She complained, "You- you!!" not knowing what to say in the moment. She keep running around, comically.

@Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (4) = 4 @Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (4) = 4

Matt couldn't help it, he started laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the spell, so much so that Sydney began hushing him. 'You're embarrassing her, stop it!' she said, even as she was clearly trying to hold back on some laughter. His spell faded as he lost his focus, and he wiped a stray tear from his face. "Fuck, sorry," he said, a bit breathless. "I really needed to try that shit."

@Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (6) = 6 @Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (2) = 2

Santana was blushing in embarrasement. "What a heartful apology after all the laughing you little shit!" She says preparing her revenge and illusioning Tina appearing of thin air, wearing sexy goth clothes and saying "Hi handsome" while winking to Matt and then exploting into  a million of bees. Then she though that might had been a little distasteful, but hoping it wasn't really.

Matt barely had time to stop laughing when Tina, of all people, appeared out of thin air. Aether fucking damn it, one of these days, hoping Santana would forget about his unfortunate confession would work based out of sheer will. When she burst into tons of bees, he covered his face with his arms, even though he was well aware it was just an illusion. "Fine, touché, hope you got that out of your system," he said, irritated even though he had just embarrassed the hell out of her too. Digging through his pouch, he fished out black poppy seeds to prepare his next spell.

@Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (2) = 2 @Santana 🐮 :  1d6  = (6) = 6

Santana laughs a little about her small victory, like a bitch. "Awww, c'mon don't get mad. How are things going with Tina? Planning on...confessing?" She says while illusioning whatever is on Matt's hands to explote into noisy fireworks. "You stopped using your shadow, why? It was going better for you." She genuinelly asks with curiosity.

Matt dropped the seeds in shock, and they scattered uselessly along the floor. He grumbled as he leaned down to pick them up. “I’m not angry,” he said, annoyed. “Things are going the way things have been going for a year. We’re friends, she’s probably not interested. I gotta get over it and I don’t know if telling her is the way to do that shit.” Not looking people in the eye while talking about his feelings was totally the way to go, right? He picked up the last of the seeds and shrugged at her next question. “I’m not great at keeping it up for fighting. I guess I don’t have much practice. Hoodoo’s safer, and easier.” Matt threw the seeds up in the air, in no way trying to avoid the conversation, nope. <<From this seed, confusion to feed.>>

@Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (5) = 5 @Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (3) = 3

Santana looked at Matt's expression. "You seem a little angry, though. Oh my, a year. That's a big crush. Why don't you tell her?" She says, as she didn't do the exact same thing when she had a crush on Marley. "Probably not interested sounds as you aren't sure, my friend. And as long as you aren't sure you are going to have some hopes for it. And as long as there is hope, the crush is going to stay" She knows she got affected by next Matt spell, still unsure wich way. Confusion? She was confused without spells. "Ugh...Safer, easier and not as effective."

Matt sighed dramatically. “I’m annoyed, it’s different.” And mostly he was annoyed at himself for letting the alcohol loosening his tongue that night. “Because I’m a fucking coward, alright? Because I was going to tell her, and then July-a-thon happened and I don’t want...” He gestured vaguely. “I don’t want to fuck it up.” Matt listened to Santana intently, still annoyed that he even had to deal with this. “So you’re saying I need to tell her or I’ll never get over this shit?” He raised an eyebrow and pointed at Santana. “Hey. Shadows are cool and useful as shit, but hoodoo is effective. I understand it a whole fucking lot better than I do the darkness crap. Knowledge is not something to be underestimated.”

@Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (4) = 4 @Matt 🌊 :  1d6  = (6) = 6

Santana walks dizzy to what she thinks is Matt direction, falling to the ground. "Different how so?" She asks, face on the floor, trying to stand up. "It's ok, you are talking with the resient coward.  I just waited long enough to hate the girl. You can also do my strategy of waiting for Tina to dissapoint you. But what, if someone had a crush on you, wouldn't you want to know?" She says standing up, giving two more steps and falling. "Alright, alright, hoodoo is also effective. Holy shit."

Matt watches wide-eyed, and yeah, amused as Santana flops onto the ground, keeping up the conversation like nothing was going on. "I guess you can be annoyed with someone but not mad. But if you're mad at something you're generally always annoyed. It's a degree thing." He keeps an eye on Santana as she stands up; he doesn't want her to be bleeding everywhere, or concussed or something. "I don't know if that shit works for me. I thought I'd gotten there, after that Field Studies with the monsters where no one seemed to give a shit we were split off like that. But she was--she--it didn't work like that. If anything, it's almost like she disappoints me less every time. I don't know if I'd want to know. I don't know how I'd handle that shit. Would you want to know?" Sydney flinches when Santana trips again, at the same time and almost comically similarly to Matt, and he takes it as a sign that he should stop it, so he rubs uncrossing oil against his skin.

@Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (4) = 4 @Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (1) = 1

Matt takes a series of small stones as the confusion spell fades and sets them in the shape of a cross in front of Santana. <<Cross o' stones, seep chaos into these skin and bones,>> he casts, as he backs away.

Santana keeps stubbling and trying to act as she has any control of the situation. "Ha, she what? Did she give a fuck? She seems very nice, it's easy to miss her bad side" She warns. "Specially when you see her with pink colored glasses. Oh, of course I would want to know! I love people  's adoration."  She takes validation from whatever she can, even if he felts unconfortable about it. She felt the confusion go away, followed by a feeling of chaos. "How dare you hurt me with one of the things I love the most?" She said, feeling betrayed and inner peace, hit with all the familiarity of chaos. Bad, incomplete illusions appearing around, with no clear form. She was getting a little tired. But Matt couldn't defeat her.

@Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (4) = 4 @Matt 🌊 :  1d6  = (4) = 4

Matt is still amused, although less so now that the confusion effect seems to be dragging on. "What do you mean, she 'seems' very nice? I don't see her with any kind of glasses," he says, defensively, even as he realizes he probably does idealize her. "Okay, sure, but doesn't that shit get weird? Doesn't the whole relationship change?" He's weirdly relieved to see his spells working, even if the whole thing is starting to weigh on him, a sheen of sweat over his skin. "What?" Matt stops to think for a second. "Chaos?" It makes sense, as long as he says it out loud, honestly. One of Santana's shapeless illusions pops up next to him just as he tries to prepare a new spell, the magic forming around it and fizzling out quickly. "Fuck," he says, while at the same time trying to play off the shock.

@Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (3) = 3 @Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (5) = 5

Santana tries to shake it off the spell's effects. "Metaphorical glasses, my friend. No one is as nice as they seem, that's it." She listen's to Matt's worries. "That depends, are you going to be weird about it if she says she doesn't like you? Or are you afraid she is the one who is going to be weird about it?" She says starting to get control of her illusions again, making spears appear agaisnt Matt.

Matt is extra suspicious. "Sounds like you meant something more specific." He feels very called out afterwards, too. "Yeah, well, it's my thing to be weird about shit. And I wouldn't blame her if--actually, no, I think I would blame her if she got weird about that and that's not fair, is it? She's got all the right in the fucking world to flirt with Brody. Or whoever else," he adds in hastily. Matt almost feels the air get knocked out of him from the spear, and he stumbles backwards. He's getting frustrated.

@Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (6) = 6 @Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (2) = 2

Matt knows this is probably not the time to try something new, he's tired as fuck, but also he wants to maybe find a way to end this sooner rather than later. <<By the Aether, let me deceive her,>> he casts, and illusions a wall of darkness around her, to give him a second to catch his breath.

Santana looks to the side, getting caught. "I am." Apparently she and Kurt were the only ones who saw some bad in Tina. "But c'mon, I'm not going to talk shit about your crush, you will notice it yourself, luckyly." Santana fucking knew he was a little jealous of Brody for the whole Tina thing. She knew it. Well, she really didn't knew it but she loved to act in her head as she knew things. Impressing herself or something. "Aw, you are jealous of Brody. So you two would get weird about it, uh. Well, then there is no other solution I guess. Never tell her, eat your feelings forever." She says sarcastically, jumping a little to the sudden darkness, believing it would be another strong shadow attack.

@Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (3) = 3 @Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (1) = 1

Matt lets out a breath, even as his rational brain tells him he doesn't even like to gossip about people who weren't Bloodlines, anyway. Let alone, as Santana said, talk shit about Tina. "Fine, you're right." He almost says something about how he gives a shit if Tina had done something to Santana, but then she brings up Brody again, and she's ridiculously, annoyingly right, and the thought is struck right out of his head. "You don't have to be sarcastic," he mutters, even though he hadn't listened to her not being sarcastic, and the darkness begins to fade around her.

Santana leaves out a giggle. Of course she is right. "I don't have to, but I can." She says and throws some illusory knives to Matt when she sees an opening in the darkness. "But c'mon, my dear! I'm a teaser, but you have my support on this! If it goes wrong or if it goes right. Some people say talking about feelings is good or some shit." She says with a grin.

@Santana 🐮:  1d6  = (6) = 6  @Matt 🌊:  1d6  = (4) = 4

Matt watches, disappointed, as the illusory wall doesn't hold up as well as he'd intended, and practically feels the knives sink themselves into his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sydney disappear back into his tattoo, and he's swaying on his feet at this point, so he holds up a hand. "You win, again," he says, heart hammering against his ribcage, and not saying anything for a moment before he looks back up at Santana. "Yeah," he says, a bit more softly, "yeah. They do. I --uh, I guess it's hard to stop being a coward." The words bring something else to the front of his mind, but he doesn't bring it up. "Wanna go pick up some lunch in the city? I could use some rest."

#gotmattitude #nimtraining #tw: violence #tw: insects #tw: bees #tw: bee #chara: matt #para: matt

[skia-oura]

Orange Lilies, 9/12?

A/N: I actually finished this in 3 days, but let it sit a couple so I could go through it later. 5 days is soon enough, I think. 

Bentley has two conversations with Dr. Fantino, whose research is probably not netting them the results they want. Dipper and Torako have their own talk with a very protective mother, and Dipper realizes that maybe he was ignoring some important calls.

Prologue // Previous // Next

Ao3

8k, so shorter than last time but still a significant read!

Chapter 8: Dr. Fantino Conducts an Actual Interview

           “So where are we going?” Bentley asked, shuffling along on weakened legs. They’d stopped being so strict about knocking him out and prohibiting all human interaction. It might have been because he’d become prone to bouts of paralysis, where he stayed in one position and stared out into nothing, consumed with the overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t move, that he was frozen in place. Bentley knew he wasn’t actually paralyzed, but also his brain and body were having fights these days and Bentley was out of control more than he was in control. Moving around was therefore a bit of a pleasant surprise.

           He held no illusions as to how that pleasantry was going to end.

           “You’ll see,” the nurse guiding him said. Bentley was almost offended by how absolutely non-threatening the nurse was. It was like Bentley wasn’t thought of as a problem. To be fair, it was mostly true. He didn’t even have footwear, and it was hard to be intimidating without shoes. And shuffling. And also sometimes trapped in his own head.

           However, Bentley was content to let the misperception regarding his capabilities lie, just in case things changed and he needed the upper hand. He didn’t know how much he could accomplish with a weak body and without anything to draw sigils with, but there had to be something, eventually.

           “I’ve never been out here awake,” Bentley said instead. He was starving for conversation that wasn’t with himself, and the pale, hollow walls of wherever they were were as good a conversation starter as anything. They felt unnatural, like there was really nothing there even though they were solid. Bentley had reached out and touched one just long enough to tell it was there.

           “I know,” the nurse said. He had dark eyes and a thin, straight nose. They never really met Bentley’s, never really even did more than glance at Bentley’s face. He kept his hand splayed out between Bentley’s shoulderblades, touch professional but not overly pushy. Bentley was kind of ashamed at how much better the contact made him feel. “But now you are, I guess.”

           Bentley hummed. “It’s weird.”

           “Yeah,” the nurse sighed. “Yeah, it’s really unsettling. All right, so, here’s where we’re going! You’ll be alone inside that room, but you’ll be monitored.” The nurse looked like he might say something but bit it back with a complicated expression on his face that Bentley was in no shape to decipher.

           “When am I not monitored?” Bentley asked, dry, because it was one of the few ways he could distract himself from the frigid anger he felt at every dehumanizing aspect of his treatment. He hadn’t physically peed in so long he missed it.

           The nurse laughed awkwardly, and opened the door set into the walls. The door felt more tangible, more actual, than the hallway surrounding them. Bentley nodded his thanks and stepped in, his hospital gown swirling around his knees. The door shut, and locked, behind him. Bentley leaned against it and surveyed the room.

           It was bigger than the hole they’d shut him in, but maybe only twice as much. The space was relaxing, but also unnerving after so long—however long was—in his own room, big enough for two twin-sized beds and nothing more. This space even had a table in the middle, and enough room to walk around it comfortably. Bentley blew his bangs, now past his nose, out of his eyes. The room smelled a little old, which was odd in a place that smelled only like absence. The reason for that, Bentley realized, was because there were some things on the table: a disfigured stuffed bear, an old tuba, a strand of gaudy beads, a very outdated piece of technology that Bentley didn’t even recognize, a beautiful vintage vase, and a pink bat with nails and screws hammered into it. It took Bentley a moment to realize what was happening.

           Once he started laughing, it was very, very hard to stop.

           “Wow,” Bentley wheezed. “You’re pulling this shit out? This unscientific crap? A reincarnation test for babies? Am I a fucking baby to you?”

           There was silence from the room around him, but this was a kind of test, so it wasn’t really too farfetched to assume that Fantino, somewhere, was watching. Listening. It burned Bentley to think it. He shifted focus.

           “That’s just rude. Are these even real, or just fakey-fake replications?” The bat definitely was; the lack of barbed wire was a dead-giveaway. Bentley, breathless with mirth, staggered over to the table to look at the objects further. He picked up the bear and laughed at its grotesque face. Dipper would get a kick out of it. “What the fuck kind of show are you running here? A weird stuffed animal? Art? Musical instruments?” He tossed the bear back onto the table. It landed on its side, back to him. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you? So shut in your books you don’t even talk to people. Don’t know how to conduct an interview? Did you even get the right documents to conduct these dumbass experiments? Probably fucking not.”

           Bentley picked up the weird technology, thin and lightweight. There was a seam around its edges, and he pried it open like a book. It wasn’t, though. One side was blank but cracked. The other side was covered in a series of keys with characters, some of which he recognized as being familiar. It almost looked like a letter-input board. Maybe it was; they couldn’t have always been holographic and keyed to react to human fingertips. He pushed one of the keys and it depressed slightly. He felt nothing for the object but vague curiosity, born mostly of boredom. He tilted it. The cracked side reflected his own face back at him.

           Bentley stared, stunned into silence.

           It was hard to see, a little. The reflection was dark, somewhat indistinct, but he could tell a few things. His hair was longer, down to his shoulders—it was one thing to know that it had grown so much, and another thing to see it. Wiry stubble glanced down the sides of his face and covered his chin, the skin under his nose—he’d always been awful at facial hair. His face was thinner, and his collarbones more prominent above the neckline of his gown. One eye looked a lighter than the other. When he blinked, something weird happened with it, something he wasn’t sure how to qualify. His skin seemed mottled. When he looked down at his arms in slow panic, his skin seemed the same as before on first glance—except, except there was uneven coloring on his upper arms, indistinct because it was so close to his face.

           It was suddenly hard to breathe.

           The electric book, weird keyboard and all, slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. It cracked, enough to break beyond repair but not to the point of shattering. Bentley didn’t really even see it. Something inside him was frozen. He teetered on the edge between control and disconnect, fingers senseless, arms limp, knees trembling with the urge to just stop.

           “What are you doing to me?” Bentley said, finally. He felt faint. There was a lump in his throat like he was going to scream. The sound of old tech cracking continued to ring dull in his ears, an echo that lived too long. “What are you doing to me?”

           His mind whirred and stood still simultaneously. Why was Fantino physically changing him? What purpose was this even for? Was this another layer of revenge for…for what? Bentley thought. The lilies, he remembered. The curse had worked? Was this all revenge porn for Fantino to jack off to?

           “What do you even want?” Bentley whispered. To his horror, he’d begun to cry. His breath hitched, and the world blurred a little.

           For a long moment, there was silence. Then, from the ceiling, Fantino spoke, smooth like wet ice across polished marble. “Many things,” they said. “Your cooperation would be appreciated, Bentley Farkas.”

           “Cooperation?” Bentley echoed, dumbly, like he didn’t have a Masters and wasn’t one of his profession’s leading experts. He stared at the broken tech on the ground, actually looked at it. Tears dripped down his face, hot, forced out by rapid blinking. The edges were jagged, white light from overhead glinting off the cracks, dipping into the innards of the machinery to illuminate hints of its constitution: faded wire, razor-thin circuitry dulled by age and dust, copper riddled with oxidation.

           “Tell me what I need to know,” Fantino said. “Let me do my research. It would be revolutionary, to study a Mizar during their lifespan.”

           “Revolutionary.” Bentley, like he was moving through tar, glanced from the computer to the exquisite vase, to the nailbat that closely resembled Torako’s. It was, he remembered somewhat dully, supposed to be Mizar’s. It was supposed to be his.  

           “Yes. So, if you might, please choose the object that calls to you the most—I do not mean to ridicule you, I mean only to exhaust every possible avenue of research in an endeavor to support my claims.”

           Silence. Then, Bentley stepped over the broken tech. He scraped the sole of his foot against one of the jagged edges on the upstep, but didn’t actually care about the pain or the blood that was inevitably starting to flow out of the ragged cut. Everything was too muted, lost in static. Bentley reached, and pulled the bat to him by the handle. The nails screeched against the table’s interface, and the hovering functions in the legs flickered and burst into momentary static.

           The bat was heavy.

           “Good,” Fantino said. “Is that what calls to you most? Feel free to take your time. You know as well as I do that accuracy rarely makes friends with haste.”

           Bentley didn’t answer. He hefted it, arms shaking a little, turned to face the vase. It was beautiful. Bentley stared at the red-breasted swallows painted into its sides. Their figures flew unmoving, static against the pale background. Soft splashes of blue lit them brighter, the contrast between warm and cool and light and dark striking. The motion they created though, drawing the eye here and there, was as elegant and fragile as the vase itself.

           Without a word, Bentley swung the bat into the vase and shattered it all across the room. Ceramic shards hit the walls; some bounced off, others stuck before dropping, and a rare couple actually impaled the wall and stayed there, light glancing sharp off their stress-fractured edges.

           Fantino didn’t speak from the ceiling anymore.

           Bentley staggered forward a couple steps. He dropped to his hands and knees in a pile of shards. The edges sliced into his skin, and he started to cry again at the pain, harder than before. He curled in on himself and brought his hands closer, shards dragged under the shadow of his body with the motion. Bowing his head enough that his hair dragged across the mess he’d just made, he drew his arms in and sobbed.

           When the nurses came in to collect him, he had run out of energy. He went willingly, limply, like he had cried himself silly. To be fair, he had. Bentley was honestly exhausted, emotionally and physically. The cuts on his hands and knees and feet really, really hurt, even after they were cleaned and healed shut into thin scabs that may or may not eventually scar.

           There was triumph in him, though, sharp with rage and urgency. Bentley was going to get out of this place, and he was going to make Fantino pay.

           Dipper was stubbornly refusing to reconsider the notion that it would be fine if Alcor the Dreambender showed up, unannounced, in the middle of somebody’s home at two in the morning. Yes, he had kind of torn through a series of impressive, specifically anti-demon wards in the process of blipping in. Yes, the walls and the ceiling (it took dedication to complete such an intricate spiral ward like that) were smoking and glowing with pinprick embers. And yes, there was also a tall woman in a silky nightgown and bathrobe brandishing a shock stick at him and Torako. Nevertheless, this had clearly been a good idea—the wards on the ceiling had just proven it. That’s the level he wanted his expert ward consultant on. Maybe he’d chewed through them in no time at all, but he’d still had to chew, at least.

           He was also inordinately pleased to notice that Olla Sussally’s mother was not, in fact, a Pacifica reincarnation as he had feared. She wasn’t anybody he knew. Perfect.

           “Get out of my house,” the woman snarled, eyes bright despite having just woken up, squinting only a little from having snapped the lights on. Another point in her favor was how fast she’d woken and cornered them in her living room. Smart woman. Good instincts. Dipper liked her, even though part of him was side-eyeing her threatening posture and thinking, how dare she.

           “Di—Alcor, this was a really bad idea.”

           “Hello!” Dipper said. “We need your brain.”

           There was a beat of silence. Then, the woman gripped her shock stick tighter, aura shocked purple with fear and streaked orange with anger.

           “What the fuck, Alcor,” Torako said. She squeezed his hand really tight. When he glanced at her, she was still holding the tumbler that’d had her alcohol in it. Judging by the smoke, it had burned out at some point. “He means that we need your help with a professional question. Ma’am. If it would please you.”

           Dipper made no such promises. He wanted this to go smoothly, but if Olla’s mother refused, then he would do what had to be done. Bentley was not safe. Bentley was not with him. Even Soos’s mother would not stand in his way.

           “It does bloody not please me,” Olla’s mother said, an edge in her voice that was both fear and incredulity. “You are both trespassing.”

           “I’ve been in your house before. I was invited,” Dipper said, mostly to remind Olla’s mother of the point that she already knew, judging by the glorious wards he’d just smashed to pieces. They were still flickering with blue and red, but the embers were slowly dying.

           “You’re not invited now. You are in fact uninvited forever.”

           “I’m also not a vampire. You can’t keep me away like that.” He smiled a little, smug, and made sure to put in an edge of his own. It was dangerous. He was dangerous, and Olla’s mother should be groveling. She should be giving him everything he wanted, now, without hesitation because he could crush her under his pinky like a mite.

           “Holy shit, Alcor,” Torako said. She shoved the smoking glass at him and stood in front of him. Taken off guard, he almost dropped it in his confusion, then blinked at the back of her head.

           “Huh?”

           “I’m really sorry for this,” Torako said. “My friend was kidnapped about a week ago. The police couldn’t do anything and I got desperate. But there’s something that’s blocking us from finding him, and we found out it’s something to do with wards, and Alcor doesn’t get his reward until we make sure my friend is safe so he’s a bit…overenthusiastic, and I promise you I didn’t know we were coming here until about two seconds before it happened.”

           Murky grudori suspicion crawled around Olla’s mother’s shoulders, tangling in her bushy hair. “So?” she said, but Dipper saw her knuckles grow a little less white on the baton.

           “You owe us nothing,” Torako said. “I have nothing to give you except my thanks, or maybe about ninety bucks because that’s all I have in cash right now and my backpack seems to have been forgotten—” she tried to step on his shoe, but Dipper moved it out of the way and decided that floating a little might be his best course of action “—but I really, really need your help. My friend is in danger, and has been traumatized again, and I just want him to be safe and at home.”

           Olla’s mother stared at them. Dipper could tell her heartstrings had been tugged on, but she was still firm, still angry and scared, probably for her child in the other room. Somehow, Olla still seemed to be asleep.

           “Why should I help then?” Olla’s mother straightened, wary dark eyes on Dipper. “You brought a demon into my home. You have trespassed at two in the morning. How do I even know you’re telling the truth? Why should I care?”

           Torako’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t answer.

           Dipper reached out to comfort her, then stopped, hand half-uncurled. They still were—they hadn’t talked, he realized, not really. And with how Torako wasn’t giving the whole truth, how she was shouldering the responsibility for finding Bentley, for summoning a demon in order to, Dipper wasn’t sure how to act. Whenever they’d played summoner-and-demon, it had been to strike fear, not to beg for help.

           He pulled his hand back, looked back up at Olla’s mother. Her soul was only vaguely familiar, in the way that many souls were—her life had brushed against his, at some point, at some several points in the past, but they had never interacted. Dipper didn’t know how to interact with her. He didn’t know what buttons he might push. He didn’t know her soul, he didn’t know her at her core, and she was utterly set against him.

           If Dipper were more honest with himself, he would realize that he was useless here.

           “If you can’t give me a good answer, then get out.”

           Torako took a deep breath. She straightened up, and said, “My friend is being tortured as we speak by somebody who only cares about results. I can’t leave him in their hands. If you won’t help me, point me to somebody who will. I will leave. So will Alcor.”

           Dipper would leave, he thought. Then he would come back and take what he needed, damn the consequences.

           Olla’s mother snorted. “Why would I set you on somebody else?”

           “Good question,” Torako said. She crossed her arms, shoulders tight. “I don’t know you. I can’t give you good answers. I have not eaten in nearly ten hours, and in the past week I have slept less than a third of what I should. If you’re not going to help, let me know already so I can figure out what to do.”

           “Fantino’s house’d be a good place to start,” Dipper said, mostly to cover his back just in case he did need to come back and make Mrs. Sussally tell him what she knew, but also because decimating everything that person owned would be great stress relief and still appealed to him.

           Olla’s mother lowered the stun baton. “Fantino?”

           Torako dragged a hand down her face. “Yes. Just found out six hours ago. Don’t think it’s their house, but Alcor is going to take any chance he can get.”

           Mrs. Sussally stared at them a couple beats longer. Her expression was as though they’d suddenly grown horns, or maybe like Dipper had suddenly become human without intending to. He looked down at himself just to make sure—nope, still floating, still claws, still suit fashioned out of air and spite and fear.

           “Dr. Vallian Fantino?” Mrs. Sussally asked.

           “Uh,” Torako said. She scratched the back of her neck, one arm wrapped around her stomach. Her aura turned confused, with bright splashes of blinking cerkan hope fizzling underneath. “You know them?”

           Mrs. Sussally pressed her lips together hard enough they went pale. Then, with a sigh, she gestured to the couch. “Sit down, I have to get something. If you move out of this room, I will know.”

           With one last hard stare at Dipper, Mrs. Sussally turned and left the room, wrapping her robe tighter around her form as she went. Dipper looked back at Torako, then lay a careful hand on her shoulder. Her aura was turning desaturated again in exhaustion.

           “Come on,” he said. “Sit down, okay?”

           “If I sit down,” Torako said, “I might actually fall asleep.”

           “I’ll keep you up, don’t worry,” Dipper said. He pulled her to turn towards him, and she followed. Soft, he brushed a thumb over the arch of her cheek, really saw the dark circles under her eyes for the first time. She closed her eyes, leaned in just a little.  

           “I just want him home,” Torako said. She swallowed, visibly, and Dipper could see tears starting to seep out from between her eyelids.

           “Me too,” Dipper said. He couldn’t bring himself to say that it wasn’t worth ruining herself over, because it was. It was worth ruining himself over. They both knew it. Bentley would argue otherwise, but he wasn’t there to do it, was he?

           Dipper guided Torako to the couch and had her sit down. She set the tumbler, a little dark from the alcohol burning away, on the ground by the couch. He considered sitting right behind her, on the back of the couch—old and worn, but obviously well taken care of—but decided that Torako would appreciate not aggravating Mrs. Sussally more than necessary, and settled down next to her.

           Dipper kept an eye on Torako the entire time they waited, and took to poking her when it looked like she was about to drop off. By the time Olla’s mother came back, Torako looked about ready to take his head off. Dipper almost wanted her to try.

           “You are positive it was Dr. Vallian Fantino?” Mrs. Sussally sat in the chair opposite, a wide tablet in her hands. Dipper noted that the stun stick was hanging from her bathrobe tie.

           “Yes,” Torako said. “My…friend had a memorable run-in with them once. I remember them. They seem to have remembered my friend.”

           “And you said that you were being blocked by wards?”

           “Presumably,” Dipper said. Olla’s mother gave him a look that was half-fear, half-consideration, and all-suspicion. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m very powerful. It takes a lot to keep me away from something I want.”

           Olla’s mother looked up at the charred ceiling, then down at him. “I’m aware,” she said. She looked back at Torako. “I need to make a deal for this information.”

           Dipper straightened and did his best to keep a grin off his face. Finally, they were getting somewhere!

           Torako nodded. “What are your terms?”

           “He,” Mrs. Sussally pointed at Dipper, “will not enter this house once he has left it, nor will he approach my daughter outside of it ever again, not even if she calls him.”

           “Even when she’s an adult and can make her own decisions?” Dipper asked, pressing his lips shut. “That seems unfair. This concerns her, so shouldn’t she be here to make that call?”

           “She is my daughter,” Mrs. Sussally said, chin tilted up, expression fierce. “I will not compromise on this.”

           “You can’t control her,” Dipper said. “What happens if she summons something…less forgiving? I might be the only thing that could save her.”

           “Your ego is showing,” Torako said. She turned to Mrs. Sussally. “What he means to say is that your daughter’s life is hers. If she wants to be stupid and summon a demon, then make sure she’s at least summoning a demon who won’t try to swindle her out of her soul for her homework? Just a lot of ice cream.”

           “She is my daughter,” Mrs. Sussally repeated, fiercer.

           “Okay,” Torako said, holding up her hands. “So, just to make sure, these are the terms: In return for Alcor the Dreambender never entering this house once he has left it, for him not approaching your daughter outside of it even when she calls him. In exchange, you will give us any pertinent information regarding your knowledge of Dr. Vallian Fantino, and whatever your connection to them is.”

           Mrs. Sussally looked between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed. She ran her fingers down a braid, and her pink-painted fingernails glinted in the living-room’s lights. Finally, she nodded and held her hand out. “Deal.”

           Torako took her hand, shook, and before they could let go Dipper had slid his hand on top of theirs, blue fire flaring up to bind them all in agreement. Mrs. Sussally jerked, but didn’t withdraw until Dipper had settled back into the couch.

           The three of them sat there, the transition from deal to business awkward to navigate when one party’s house had been essentially invaded. Dipper tapped his feet against the floor, but it didn’t seem to spur either of the other two into motion. He opened his mouth to speak. Torako gave him an alarmed look, and rushed to fill the silence. Rude.

           “So why did Fantino’s name…why did you ask if we were sure?”

Mrs. Sussally nodded and fiddled with the tablet. It lit up, white light glancing off the bottom of her jaw. “The reason I ask is this.”

           She flicked up a message so that it was visible to them, hanging in thin air between her and her intruders. Torako leaned forward. Dipper only needed to glance at the letter to know what its contents were. Justification filled him to the point of bursting.

           “I knew you were perfect,” Dipper purred. Mrs. Sussally looked a little disturbed.

           “You were asked to make the wards?” Torako said, after a few moments. Her eyes had regained a measure of sharpness, and she straightened in the face of this new discovery. “Why? What happened?”

           Mrs. Sussally lay the tablet flat on her lap. Her now braided hair shifted as she leaned into the back of her chair. “My husband works for a firm that specializes in construction based around warding, runeing, and increasingly sigiling,” she said. “I have taken commissions through them from time to time. My husband’s boss contacted me to ask if I would be interested.”

           “Then why not take the job?” Torako asked, leaning forward. She pointed at a number in the letter. “It’s a substantial sum.”

           “That surprised me too,” Mrs. Sussally said. “But as it’s an experimental process, and as there’s a non-disclosure agreement attached, it makes sense. And I didn’t go because it’s in another country, and I’d need to be on-site in order to figure out how to inscribe the wards. Monitoring can be done remotely, but I would have to be there to actually ensure that the correct ratios of energy were used to install the glyphs. Besides, I have other commissions that I can do here, and watch over Olla while she goes to school—which seems to be entirely warranted.” She cast a meaningful glance at Dipper.

           Dipper frowned. “Then why disclose the commissioner’s name at all?” He asked, jabbing a claw at one of the instances in which the Asshat’s name was mentioned.

           “Company policy,” Mrs. Sussally said. She downsized the letter, and then pulled up another couple of pictures, this time of the ward-building in process. Dipper whistled—they were so intricate that you couldn’t even see where specific chains began or ended, and variation in size was pretty tricky to pull off effectively. They were set into and around an otherwise plain doorframe, cold grey and utilitarian black.

           “How do we work around the wards, then?” Torako said, squinting. “I’m not really fluent, but I can tell that there’s some kind of password involved to get into the pocket dimension.”

           “I don’t know the password, so I can’t help you,” Mrs. Sussally said. “You would have to get it.”

           “What about knocking the wards down?” Dipper asked. He tugged his collar a little.  “Wouldn’t that do the trick?”

           Mrs. Sussally raised her eyebrows at him, a little derisive. Maybe not as perfect as he’d hoped, but you know, she was doing what they needed so he was happy enough. “Knocking the wards down would collapse the dimension they surround,” she said, the amateur left unsaid but heavily implied. “Which, if your summoner’s friend is in there, would be going against the terms of your agreement. You can’t just do to these wards what you did here.”

           “Right, we find somebody who knows the password.” Torako nodded, then pointed at one picture. “This is the exterior of the building?”

           Mrs. Sussally nodded. “It’s apparently somewhere in Kabul.”

           Dipper sat up straight. “Kabul?” he asked.

           “My husband can’t tell me exactly where.” She paused, then narrowed her eyes. “Do not go to him for answers.”

           Dipper would argue that that hadn’t been part of the deal, but he suddenly remembered that Batoor had called for him. Several times. If Fantino was in Kabul, and Batoor was near Kabul…

           Dipper stood up. “We have to go.”

           Torako, when he looked, was staring at him. “What.”

           “We have to go. Right now. Immediately. Yesterday.” Hopefully Batoor was okay; the more Dipper recalled the summons, the more he thought that there was urgency encoded in the summons. Fuck.

           “Oh my god.” Torako stood, however. “Thank you, Mrs…”

           “Sussally,” Olla’s mother said. “You’ll be leaving then?”

           “Yes. I apologize for coming in like this, but I suppose we’re going on to the next stop.” Torako smiled, thin. Dipper flared and flapped his wings in irritation that everything was taking so long.

           “At least it’s almost six there, then,” Mrs. Sussally said. “I hope you don’t take this wrong, but I don’t ever want to see you again.”

           “Yeah, no, I understand,” Torako said. She turned to look at Dipper. “I don’t exactly…”

           “Lock of hair,” Dipper said. Torako rolled her eyes.

           “I’m going to be bald by the end of this, then,” she said. “Fine. Lock of hair to get us to wherever is next.”

           Dipper grabbed her hand, threw a salute at Mrs. Sussally (belatedly remembering that it was possible that the meaning of that particular gesture had changed since the last time he’d done it), and then they were in Batoor’s bedroom at a less ungodly hour in the morning.  

           It was not all that surprising to find himself, a few light-dark cycles later, in a room with the person who’d kidnapped him in the first place. Bentley pressed his healed palms to the table, stared at the backs of his hands. The mottling was growing more distinct, skin growing lighter or darker or staying the same in blurry patches. He wondered if it was just cosmetic, or if there was something else wrong with him that he just couldn’t tell. Vitiligo didn’t bother him. How it happened, if it had further consequences, kind of really did.

           “I took your advice,” Dr. Fantino said, across from him. Bentley glanced up at the other person; carefully styled hair, straight back and immaculate blouse cut fashionably close to their body, a datapad Reader in one hand and a stylus in the other.

           “Clearly not,” Bentley said. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

           Dr. Fantino neither smiled nor frowned. Their dark eyes were square on Bentley with a narrow intensity that made Ben a little nervous. “I consulted several acquaintances on research protocol in regards to sentient beings. It was suggested to me that I conduct an interview, or a conversation. Hence, this.”

           He hummed, looked back down at his hands. He turned them over. The palms were also starting to become patchy. “I don’t suppose anything was said about gaining permission to conduct interviews, or the signing of the appropriate contracts?”

           Bentley was ignored. “So, for the record, would you state your name?”

           “You know my name,” Bentley said. He looked at the ceramic shard on the table between them, wondered how fast he’d have to act in order to drive it into Fantino’s throat. Wondered if it was even possible; there might be some sort of shield between them, preventing Fantino from coming to harm. If they were smart, there would be one.

           “Humor me.”

           Bentley sighed, leaned back. “Bentley Josh Farkas,” he said. His bangs were down to his lips now, and with nothing to tie them back, were a constant annoyance. He was seriously considering the possibility that he was stuck somewhere time flowed differently, and it would partly explain why Alcor hadn’t busted in to get him out already.

           “How old are you, Bentley Farkas?”

           “Good question,” Bentley said. “Last I knew, I was twenty-seven, but time here is a bit funny, isn’t it?”

           Dr. Fantino nodded. “Observant, but I would be more surprised had you not taken note of that. Yes, it does run faster here than outside. How close were you to twenty-eight?”

           Well, it was better than running slower. Recent missing cases were taken more seriously than year-old ones. Bentley pressed his hand to the table again, felt the vibrations from the placement field echo dully against his fingertips. “Around four, five months,” Bentley said.

           “Not quite yet, then,” Dr. Fantino said, and made a note. “Bentley Josh Farkas, twenty-seven years old. Your parents?”

           Bentley’s hands curled into fists. He tried to keep calm. His head swum. “What about them?”

           “Their names and ages, please.”

           He bit into the side of his mouth, hard enough to draw blood and—the sudden realization that he could have done that earlier, that he had a writing medium at his fingers, was enough to lend him the presence of mind to answer. “You are cruel.”

           “No,” Dr. Fantino said. “Simply following protocol. For the record, please.”

           When Bentley looked up at Dr. Fantino, their face was as stone-blank as usual. The urge to scream nearly choked him.

           “My mother’s name was Soo-jan,” he said, voice thick. “She died when I was a baby.”

           There was a pause. “Your father?”

           Anger flared in him with all the force of putting potassium metal in water. “You bastard,” Bentley said, standing up suddenly enough that the chair behind him spun away. “You bastard, don’t make me say—”

           “Please refrain from emotional outbursts,” Dr. Fantino said. They tapped an input board up from the table’s surface, and suddenly Bentley found himself sitting back down again, pressure on his legs to keep him from standing.

           Bentley let out a frustrated sob despite his best efforts. Dr. Fantino said nothing. It took several moments for Bentley to press the whirlwind of feelings inside him down far enough to speak again.

           “Please,” he said, something in him breaking at resorting to begging. “Don’t make me say it.”

           Dr. Fantino paused before speaking. “I understand. Then, Mr. Farkas, please tell me if the following statement is accurate: Dr. Philip Farkas passed away nearly two years ago, at the age of fifty-three.”

           Bentley swallowed past the lump in his throat. His hands were shaking. “Yes.”

           “And what were their professions? Those of your parents, that is.”

           “Mom was an. Explorer. Dad researched.” Bentley pressed his lips together and glared over at Dr. Fantino. “Are you just finding new ways to torture me, or what?”

           Dr. Fantino sighed. It wasn’t a sigh of sympathy, or of frustration. It was like—like they were experiencing something senselessly, mildly annoying. “I suppose we could delay the questions related to your parents,” they said, and scrolled down their Reader in a couple of quick finger-flicks. “Then, could you detail your first memory for me?”

           Bentley stared. “How is that delaying questions related to my parents?”

           Dr. Fantino pressed their lips back at Bentley, looked him in the eye. “How am I supposed to conduct my research when you are vetoing all of my questions?”

           “Maybe you shouldn’t be conducting this research in the first place,” Bentley said. The pressure had lifted off his legs, so he shifted in his seat.

           Finally, Dr. Fantino’s face spasmed in frustration. Their eyes narrowed and the hint of a sneer pulled at their nose. “It is happening,” they said, “whether you like it or not.”

           “Clearly,” Bentley said. His tears were clearing. “But, just for the record, I do not consent to anything that happens in here.”

           “The record will of course be doctored before presentation to any relevant parties,” Dr. Fantino said, like he routinely fudged evidence to his advantage. Maybe he did. Bentley had never read Dr. Fantino’s papers, but he’d listened to enough of Torako’s frustrated mumblings about them, back before she’d shifted from an academic approach to something more practical. “The truth is all that matters.”

           Bentley looked down at the table, stared at his bare feet through the energy field. His nails were only short because he kept peeling them that way, driven by nervous energy and the need to be able to control something. “What even happens after this?”

           “After the research, you mean?”

           “Yeah.” Bentley swung his feet. The chair was just tall enough that he couldn’t touch the floor, whereas Dr. Fantino could. What a dumb power play; it was like Dr. Fantino didn’t realize that Bentley lived his life surrounded by taller people, and therefore with his feet constantly off the floor. “What do you think’ll happen after this?”

           “There are contingencies in place,” Dr. Fantino said, which explained absolutely nothing.

           “Contingencies,” Bentley said, dryly. “All right, Dr. Fantino. Whatever you say. What proof do you actually need, anyways?”

           Dr. Fantino glanced down at their Reader. “Did you, or did you not, curse me to be burned by orange lilies whenever I touched them?”

           Bentley raised one eyebrow. His fingers twitched. The urge to pick up the ceramic shard, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand but big enough to fill it, intensified. “Empty words,” he said.

           “Did you, or did you not?” Dr. Fantino twirled the stylus between his fingers and stared Bentley down.

           “…Yes, in the heat of the moment.”

           Dr. Fantino nodded. “Let the record know that I, Vallian Fantino, am in fact now incapable of touching orange lilies with my bare hands without suffering serious burns.”

           “Circumstantial evidence,” Bentley said.

           “Enough to prove a connection,” Dr. Fantino said. “Now, did you, or did you not, profess to me that you were a reincarnation of the soul known as ‘Mizar,’ as in the Mizar related to the infamous demon Alcor the Dreambender?”

           “If I did,” Bentley said, “it was the words of a grieving son.”

           “Words spoken in heightened emotions are usually true,” Dr. Fantino said. They tapped the stylus against the edge of the datapad, stared Bentley down.

           Bentley stared right back. “Usually,” he said. “Not always.”

           “In this case, then?”

           He tilted his chin up. “Not true,” he lied.

           “Then why say them at all?” Dr. Fantino asked. They tilted their head.

           “Is that why you don’t like to emote?” Bentley asked instead. “You don’t want to tell the truth?”

           Dr. Fantino did not look impressed. “Your fairy-fingered assessment is not accurate, as those usually are. No, emotions can cloud the mind, and I prefer to do my work with a clear head. I resorted to magical surgery to ensure that I would never again face such a debilitating handicap, and it has worked to my favor ever since.”

           Bentley felt about as impressed with that answer as Dr. Fantino looked impressed with him. What an idiot. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, which hummed momentarily louder as it shifted its weight-bearing settings. Bentley closed his eyes.

           “If that is all,” Dr. Fantino said. “Please, recount for me your earliest memory.”

           “What do you want out of this, anyways?” Bentley asked instead. There was an annoying glimmer in the corner of his left eye, even when it was closed and all he could see was the backs of his eyelids.

           Dr. Fantino let out a frustrated sigh. “Would it please you to answer a question for a question then, you insufferable human being?”

           Bentley had lots of things to say about how he didn’t feel like he was being treated very much like a human being at the moment, but he wasn’t sure that would go over well. Fantino could take it as admission of being Mizar, somehow. With their determination… “Sure, I guess” he said. He crossed his arms and didn’t do Fantino the dignity of even being looked at.

           Fantino made him angrier and sadder and blanker all at once.

           “Then please: what is your earliest memory?”

           Bentley chewed at the inside of his lip, on the side opposite where he’d already bitten through the inner skin. “I guess when I was three, we went to the ocean during summer. I saw something shiny in the water and grabbed it before my dad could stop me. It was a man-of-war.”

           “So your earliest memory is of a hospital,” Fantino said.

           “No, just. Blue. And shiny. And curiosity, and then pain.” Bentley cracked open one eye and had the satisfaction of seeing Dr. Fantino shift back a little. “What do you want out of this?”

           Dr. Fantino set down the stylus, then the datapad, and folded their hands on the table. Bentley glanced at the glimmering in the corner of his eye. It was concentrated along the edges of the ceiling.

           “I want to tell the truth,” Dr. Fantino said. “I want to be known for telling the truth. The money gained in such a venture does not hurt, but I do not require it, really. The acclaim…that is what I want.”

           “And you resorted to kidnapping to get acclaim,” Bentley said, both eyes open. Fury wrapped around his heart and squeezed. It was, momentarily, a little hard to breathe. “Kidnapping and torture and unconsented body modification.”

           Dr. Fantino’s eyebrows lifted. “I will concede the kidnapping charge, but the other two I have done by no means.”

           “Bullshit,” Bentley snapped. He didn’t stand up, but he sure fucking wanted to. “First off, what do you call that deal with Alû then?”

           “My turn first,” Dr. Fantino said. “Do you have any odd dreams? Of lives not your own, of course.”

           “No,” Bentley snarled, “because there’s no space for any past life dreams with all the shit crammed in my head from being trapped by Alû for fuck knows how many days.”

           “Before Alû, then,” Dr. Fantino said, eyes narrowing. Their posture, already straight, straightened even further.

           Bentley slammed his hands on the table. “No means no, you pale-faced dung-eyed sadistic piece of—”

           Dr. Fantino raised their hand. Bentley froze, mid-motion, eyes wide. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t—

           Dr. Fantino lowered their hand and Bentley’s shot up to his throat. He curled in on himself, hyperventilating, breath coming in not enough to ease the ringing in his head. Dr. Fantino said something, but Bentley couldn’t hear it. Heartbeat jackrabbit-fast in his neck, fluttering against his fingers. Throat dry, having been right on the edge of dry from not being given something to actually drink. Teeth buzzing, reverbrating with the force of his breath and the tears in his eyes and the bloodflow rushing faster and faster.

           It took him a long time to come down from his panic attack. It left him limp, and tired, and unable to think well. He stared at the ceramic shard on the table, the sloppy sigils drawn on in blood with an even tinier shard.

           “Again,” Dr. Fantino said, softly, “please refrain from overt emotional outbursts. Insults are completely unprofessional.”

           Bentley would have laughed if he hadn’t just finished freaking out over being unable to control his own body. As it was, he couldn’t even muster up a scoff, or a sob, or anything.

           “As for Alû,” Dr. Fantino said, “It was a necessary part of the plan, for reasons beyond your own acquisition. Unfortunately, the demon proved…unwilling to release you, and as such measures had to be taken. Alû will not trouble you, nor anybody else, ever again.”

           He looked down at his hands again and tried to focus on breathing. All he wanted to do was sleep for several more hours, Bentley realized. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He wanted to be home, with Torako and Dipper, cuddling all the hurt away. And if he couldn’t have that, then he wanted to be alone.

           “So, next.” Dr. Fantino picked up their stylus and datapad. “What records we have of Mizars speak of vibrant personalities and colorful lifestyles. How do you fit into this pattern? Are there other Mizars we have missed throughout history due to their not fitting the profile, so to speak, of their preincarnations?”

           It took energy that Bentley didn’t have to look Fantino in the eye, but he did. “I don’t know,” he said.

           Dr. Fantino frowned.

           “I study sigils,” Bentley said, bone-deep exhaustion weighing him down. “Not Mizars. You’d—have more luck, if Dad were. Still.” He closed his stinging, watering eyes.

           “I see.” Dr. Fantino said. “A Preincarnation test seems to be the next step to take, though I had wished to avoid the attention that kind of purchase would bring. Perhaps Lloyd would be willing to arrange it for me. In the interim, we will continue our interviews and medical assessments. Your question?”

           Bentley almost didn’t respond, but he needed to know. He needed to. “Why…this.” Bentley gestured to all of him. “The changes. To me.”

           “Ah.” Dr. Fantino blinked. “Those were not intentionally done to you. It seems to be an unexpected side-effect of spending all your time in this place—a pocket dimension, mind you. The rest of the staff show no adverse side effects, but they are not in here the concentrated periods of time that you have been.”

           Horror bloomed in Bentley, soft-edged but persistent. The dots were not hard to connect. “You. You put me in an unstable pocket dimension,” he said.

           Dr. Fantino did not reply, but instead was staring closer at Bentley. “It is possible, theoretically speaking, that given the reason you have been put in here, that the skins of past Mizars are showing through. Passing the barrier of the soul to imprint themselves on the body—yes, that does warrant more investigation.” They began to scribble something on the Reader, mumbling to themselves. Bentley was struck with a sick, terrible sense of déjà vu. Philip had done that. He had muttered to himself while researching. It had been something Bentley loved about his father. It had been something Torako had picked up, from time to time.  

           Bentley wanted to throw up.

He didn’t mention the similarity to Dr. Fantino.  

           “The next question I have,” Dr. Fantino said, “is a bit of a personal indulgence, but why orange lilies?”

           Bentley gathered the shard in his hands, masking the motion as bringing his hands together to rest his head on. He breathed, in and out. Everything ached, inside and out.

           “You could have chosen anything. My theses, your fathers, things that were actually important to either one of us, but. Orange lilies? A flower? One that I would never have touched without there being a good reason for it? I don’t profess to hate easily, Mr. Farkas. The only thing that drove me to gather them again was sheer academic curiosity, so answer me—why orange lilies? They are significant, I understand, but why?”

           Bentley stood, slowly. He turned around and shuffled to the door. It was getting easier to walk. Didn’t hurt as much.

           “Mr. Farkas?”

           “I’m done,” Bentley said.

           “Mr. Farkas, I do not believe you quite understand the situation here—”

           “I’m done today.” Bentley set his forehead against the door and tried to open it despite knowing it wouldn’t. “I’m tired.”

           “Answer my question. Why orange lilies? Are they so significant to Mizars that—”

           “No,” Bentley said. Fucking Mizars. He turned his head to look at Dr. Fantino, sitting so proper at the table. The previous resemblance he’d seen to his father, to Torako, vanished in the face of such rigid posture. “No I—you came to remember my father. After he died And you threw hate at him. And me.”

           Dr. Fantino frowned. “However—”

           “I hated you for that. I hate you for that. That’s why I said what I did.” Bentley turned back to the door. “I was angry. Now I’m tired. Let me go.”

           Dr. Fantino was quiet, for few long moments. “Very well,” they murmured. The door opened, and Bentley was escorted down the curiously blank, intangible-tangible halls, back to the door that opened to his own matchbox of a room.

           It was only there, laying on the bed, hooked up again to the IV and the EKG and new hydration and nutrition patches slapped on his stomach and chest, that Bentley realized several things. He turned the ceramic shard over and over in his hands and considered it.

           A notice-me-not sigil. A simple chain that formed durability. They had been hard to make, for more than the reason he was using something sharp to write using his own blood. It was like there had almost been too much power. Simple would be better.

           The dimension was unstable.  Pocket dimensions, in and of themselves, were unlikely to be unstable; the technology had simply progressed too far to allow shoddy and unknowing workmanship. That meant some experimental magitech was being implemented. Not sigils; the dimension would have long collapsed. Runes, maybe? Bentley closed his eyes, head aching, and tried to push past it. If not runes, then…wards.

           Bentley smiled a little to himself. Wards. Wards weren’t really finicky, but if they were supporting a pocket dimension, and doing whatever else, they would be strained, hence Bentley’s hopefully only cosmetic physical changes. He knew sigils like he knew the scars along Torako’s knuckles, left hand, like he knew the glint of Dipper’s eyes right before he pounced, like he knew their bodies curled on either side of his. And sigils? Sigils, especially overpowered ones, were very, very good at breaking other magic.

           Maybe he wouldn’t make it out, Bentley thought, but if he timed it right—if he caught Fantino in the pocket—it would be enough.

           It had to be enough.

#transcendence au #orange lilies #tau related #tau fic #my fic #bentley farkas #torako lam #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #ensemble cast

[thestylesproject]

#27 The Last Stick Standing Part 2 (Harry Styles)

LAST WEEK HERE!

SO HERE IS THE MUCH REQUESTED IMAGINE! 

(It’s quite long so, I hope you like the story!)

---

PART 1

Maybe, time has a way of healing things. Maybe it is like a balm on a wound, and slowly it helps heal the cut. Slowly stop the blood from flowing, slowly start making a net to stop it. And, my life was like a sharp nail, that kept scratching at the wound till the blood started flowing again. I wanted to stop now. I couldn’t get myself to jump off the cliff. I couldn’t, and I wanted a fresh start now. So, I cut all my nails. It was time to start fixing myself before I blamed myself. It was time to redo. 

More time was spent by me. For the first time, in a long time, I didn’t look for the company that always wanted to surround myself. I grew up with the idea that having a group of people around you led to happiness, and Matthew had it. I just didn’t fit in that group. I visited the library, reading the self-help books which helped me a lot. Just to find peace at times, and for the time to go away. It hurt initially, I wanted what my brother had, what people around me had, but maybe I wasn’t meant for it. And that was okay. I didn’t have to conform according to the world around me, I could form a new path. 

It was difficult in the start. Keeping to myself, not crying, but it had been better lately. I was feeling better. I was taking care of myself now. I liked my body, my hair, my eyes, I was falling in love with myself for a start. Figured that was wrong, I had this need to always hold on to people to validate myself, first Matthew, then Harry. I had myself now, and it felt wonderful. I was laughing more. I was happy. I had a few people who I talked to in class, or some were library specific. Some were from the coffee shop I went to, but I kept a distance. Not till I was ready would I let them close, and I wasn’t ready yet. 

I didn’t go back home in the summer. I got myself an internship instead, and they paid me quite well. My parents weren’t pleased, but it was Matthew was upset. 

“You don’t have to work to run away from me,” He slammed his hand on the door. 

“I’m not running away from you or anyone for that matter,” I smiled. I smiled at him lately. No, I didn’t talk to him. It wasn’t healthy at first, I knew. But no one treated their family like that. And, I didn’t have to give respect when I didn’t receive any in return. He chose his girlfriend, his friends repeatedly over me. When I was treated like shit, he said nothing and, then expecting me to be all love and care, when we are alone was some shit. 

“Yes, you fucking are! I know you! You just want to ignore me like a punishment,” I rolled my eyes, “Like some revenge, and then blame all your shit on me in front of Mom and Dad like you always do!” He screamed and, I dropped my stuff I was holding in my hands. 

“Is that it then? You don’t want to be blamed for me not coming back home?” I folded my hands. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He tried to correct himself, but I knew better. 

“Well that’s shit, but don’t worry. I didn’t tell mum and dad anything about us. I want to work, and therefore I am. Not everything in this world is about you, you know.” I folded my arms,  “And, as far as my dealing with my shit goes, I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” 

“Giselle...” He came forward, and I stepped back. "You’re my sister, my twin...”

“You’ve lost all your rights to call me that. It shouldn’t matter to you. It isn’t going to make any difference to your life,” I got back to my work. “You should be glad I’m not coming back with you. The perfect child can be with his perfect parents who love him all alone!” 

“You don’t mean that,” He shook his head. 

“Why because it hurts you? Because it is finally being stated? You are the perfect child, the perfect little boy they wanted to have while I just came along with the package. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt me being treated like that, oh wait, you won’t know! Because you spent all your time gloating about how you got the better! It’s so in your face in everything. For people outside, we must be a family that provides equal chances to everyone, but we know it’s not. So, why don’t we accept it and move on. I will not live in this illusion that my parents love me like they love my brother, and then live in this complex my entire fucking life!” I yelled. 

“Gissy...” He tried to hold my hand. 

“You couldn’t even be there for your sister when she was actually in grave danger. What sort of a family is this? Did I tell you, I don’t get a call from mom, every Saturday. I call her, while she calls you! Thank fucking god, I got a scholarship for this place, or they wouldn’t have even sent me here while you weren’t even pressured to get one! Where were you during all this, Matthew? You don’t have the right to call yourself a brother. Go to your fucking girlfriend and family!” I screamed, it all came out. I couldn’t control it. There was so much that was never said, so much hidden, I couldn’t let it all out, no, this wasn’t right. “Get out!” 

Was he going to cry? He ran out before that, and I couldn’t help myself from following him. I didn’t see him, but I saw Harry standing in the hallway. He looked at me with shocked eyes, “What? Enjoying the show?” I slammed the door before he could answer. 

The good thing was that I saw none of them during the summer. It was a relief and a good escape. My internship was hectic but brilliant, and I earned quite a bit while my spending wasn’t much. It was good for me, mentally and emotionally. After I didn’t call mom for two weeks, she finally did. She screamed at me for not calling and about how worried she was, but couldn’t say much after I told her that she didn’t hear from me for two weeks, and dad didn’t send the money so, there wasn’t much worrying happening. The ‘enjoy with your son’ was another thing that stopped her. All my life I was treated like the second best. Like I wasn’t important, made to feel that way, if I wanted to stop pretending and get over this competition and want for attention, I had to start afresh. 

Today, I was soaking in the sun. My body was toned now by all the running and workouts I put in every day. My hair was longer, and I for the first time in a long time, felt happy in myself. I had made a few friends as well, and was hanging out with them when I saw him. 

He was tanned now, and I could see the muscles that developed over the summer. His eyes widened as they took me in, I did look different. 

“Hey Gissy, let’s go get those pancakes now. I’m sure they’re ready!” I offered Nick my hands, and he pulled me up. I felt his eyes follow me as I got up and walked to the stall. 

“Giselle,” I turned around knowing it was his voice. I smiled, “You look different.” 

“I grew my hair,” I nodded. “This is Nick,” I introduced my friend, and they greeted each other. 

“I’ll meet you there,” Nick nodded and I turned to Harry. 

“So, how was summer?” I asked. 

“Fine, yeah how was yours?” He asked. 

“Quite lovely, hectic but lovely,” I nodded, “So, I’ll see you around, yeah...”

He held my arm, “Where were you?” 

“What?” I asked. 

“You didn’t come back home. Why? I know you were mad at him, but he is your brother,” He frowned. “And, being as righteous as you claim you are, I expected you to be there.” 

“What are you talking about?” I frowned.

“Wait, you don’t know?” his eyes in shock. “Matthew, he met with an accident...how do you not know?” 

“What? How? When?” I took out my phone to see if I missed any call or message. I had nothing. 

“A week ago, he is bad, Giselle.” 

“I wasn’t...I didn’t...fuck!” 

“If you’d like, I’ll be leaving to see him in about an hour, I can give you a ride,” He said, and I nodded wiping my tears. He was my brother after all, and I couldn’t believe mom hadn’t mentioned anything! Not much could be expected out of them, though. 

Rushing back to my room, I packed my things and met Harry outside. It was a four-hour ride back home, and I couldn’t wait. “You know, that night when I had asked you out...” 

“I really don’t want to talk about this, Harry.” 

“Fuck! Why? Why can’t you give somebody else a chance to explain themselves! You did the same with Matthew when he constantly tried to reach out to you. He can’t help being who he is, but I have seen him fight every person who said shit about you. But he couldn’t always protect you! I don’t know what you guys had while growing up, but I know he genuinely does love you and care about you! Fuck, I saw him howling in the car after you slammed the door that night!” He yelled. 

“That night, I called him up to pick me up, the night you left me, remember? He switched off his phone to have sex with his girlfriend and came knocking at the door three hours later...” 

“He wasn’t having sex with his girlfriend, by the way,” Harry cut me off. “She had taken his phone, and thrown it across the room. When he went to fix it, it was broken. He then went to replace the model so, he could contact you. Meanwhile, that bitch hid his keys, and then after arguing for a long time, she finally gave it. He looked for you the entire night, I looked for you with him because for some reason he thought you weren’t safe. We finally gave up and reached your dorm where you were, thank god!” 

This was a perspective that I didn’t know. All this while, I thought he had left me alone, but he hadn’t. I had misjudged the situation so bad. 

“And as for me, if you’d let be explain myself,” He waited for me to interrupt. I didn’t. “I really liked as you as well. I still do for fucking’s sake, knowing how impulsive you are, and such a pessimist! I told you I was caught up with Ally and the gang. They had my book in their hand. Fucking never using a typewriter again in my life! And, all my books as well. They threatened to burn it, they actually did burn a few chapters to prove a point. Ross had my things which he was so ready to pour oil on and burn. Earlier, the plan was to mess around with you, and I thought fine. I will go with it, and then tell you everything they did so, you’ll understand and we’ll have our date!” 

I looked at him, wanting to know more, “But, it didn’t happen that way. Then, she didn’t stop the car when we went forward. Drove all the way to the pub and took me and kept me the entire time until Matthew came to look for you. He beat Joss up and, I handled Tyler and we rushed outta there.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I asked, now crying. 

“I was so guilty for the longest time, Giselle. Knowing what had happened, knowing how you weren’t talking to Matthew, knowing I could lose you forever with one wrong word because you weren’t listening to anyone,, I just couldn’t do it. I loved you and I was so guilty. On your birthday when you went back home, I planned to tell you everything. But you were so broken, I didn’t know what to say to fix it. And then, you thought I liked Ally and hated you and, I was so guilty Gissy,” Harry shook his head. 

“Thought time would give me a chance, and when I built up the courage to tell you, you threw Matthew out, slammed the door, I couldn’t reach you with the wall you’d created.”

“Oh god, this is such a mess,” I cried into my palms. 

“It is,” he said. 

-

We reached the hospital in my town and I rushed to reception. Asking for his room, I ran up the staircase and Harry followed me. I reached the room and stopped when I saw our parents outside. 

“Giselle, what are you doing here?” Mom asked me. Dad looking at mom accusingly. 

“How could you not tell me?” I asked them. 

“You were working, Giselle. We thought better not to distract you!” Dad cut mom. 

“Bullshit! She knew I finished work last week!” I yelled. 

“Do not raise your voice at us, young lady!” Mom spoke in the voice she used whenever she wanted to make me disappear. 

“Then stop coming between me and my brother!” I told her. “If you want me out of the family, say it to my face instead of creating a divide between us!” 

“Giselle!” She yelled. 

“Enough mother. I have had enough,” I said, pushing his door open. Walking inside I saw the doctor giving an injection to Matthew. Matthew oh god, his hand and his left leg was broken, he had bruises on his face. His upper body was covered in bandages, his head was hurt. I wanted to cry. 

“Gissy, hey...” he tried to smile. I stood away from his bed. “Please come here.” 

I wiped my tears and slowly walked to him, sitting on his bed. The doctor gave his last pain killer and left. “What have you done to yourself? You didn’t have to get so bad to get my attention.” 

He laughed and then grimaced in pain, “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

His left hand which was better pulled me closer, and he kissed my cheek, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” I said, crying into his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I thought you hated me, I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, you’re my twin. We’re basically the same. I could never hate you in my life! I’m sorry for not noticing the differentiation earlier. I’m such an idiot, but you should have mentioned this before and not hid it from me.” 

“It was what I was taught,” I shrugged. “Does this hurt?” I asked, touching his ribs. 

“I broke two,” he whined. “You’ll have to take care of me now. I can’t live in this town anymore!” 

“The jailers should let you go,” I laughed. 

“I think we should shift into that apartment you saw. It seems like the perfect opportunity!” 

After talking a bit more with my brother, Harry came in and they talked for a while before he slept from the pain killers. Dad walked with me outside leaving mother behind. “Your mother loves you too,” he said. 

“But loves Matthew more. You do too. It is not exactly hidden,” I said. 

“It’s not like that, Giselle. You are as precious to us and Matthew. Yes, we have been harder on you, but that’s because your mother faced a lot of problems being a woman and, she wanted to prepare you for that. Yes, maybe a son is seen as more important, but we don’t want to lose you for it.” He said. Maybe some wounds take time to fill, but slowly with time, everything becomes alright and I could only hope for this to become better.

“So, you like me?” I ask, handing Harry a coffee. 

“Pretty much,” He said, taking some time. “You know, there is a very good restaurant down the road.”

“Hmm, I grew up here,” I said, sarcastically. 

“I’d like you to take me on a date there then. Right now would be nice. I’m starving,” Harry said, standing up. 

“You’re driving me. To cancel all the chances of a repeat, you know!” I laughed. 

“Shut up!” He said, pulling me as we walked towards the car. 

---

Please tell me what you think about this. I’m posting my last few imagines...would love some feedback!

Please send in your requests for all my stories and even new ones if you think you want a work from me.

Thank you for all your support and love!

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MY WORK

xx. theStylesproject.

Copyright ©theStylesproject 2017: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS WORK CONTAINS MATERIAL PROTECTED UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND FEDERAL COPYRIGHT LAWS AND TREATIES. NO PART OF THIS WORK MAYBE REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM theStylesproject.

#harry styles #Harry Love #harrystyles #harrystylesonedirection #harrystylesfanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry smut #one direction smut #harry #styles #OneShots #one shot #harrystylesoneshot #onedirectiononeshots #harrystylesoneshots #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles live #harry styles tour #vmas #sign of the times #niall horan #liam payne #zayn malik #louis tomlinson #one direction #one direction updates #harry styles update #harrystylesupdates #harry styles updates

[drawn-to-space]

Mildly edited RP (because some dialogue are with other people and context would be needed) at the fall ball with Quill on disc.cord. Basically, Swap and the other hosts fake their deaths at the party and Yumi didn’t take it very well… among other things that happened. ((This is only part 1 because Tumblr has a 100 paragraphs limit, apparently.))

Yumi glared at Swap, even though she was very clearly angry, tears almost instantly started flowing out of eyes. She started walking towards him, quickly, running. I’m her head, she was going for a slap, but she was so angry that she made a fist-

Wait- YuMI NO YOUKNOWKARATE! YOU'REGOINGTO-

JBAF!

A second before the plushies hit him, Yumi did. Directly in the face. There might have been a very slight crack sound. It’s a wonder he didn’t get knocked out. He had no idea she could pack such a punch. A literal punch. He didn’t have time to think on it as a second later he was pelted by plushies and pillows, being buried alive. A soft demise.

Yumi almost regretted what she did, but anger was still present. But she didn’t actually want him to die for real this time. She grabbed whatever she could under the pillows who were suffocating him and lift him back up. She was still mad and crying, get ready for a scolding.

“S-Swap, what the fuck!? WHY would you do something like that!? Do you know… hic… how much I WAS FUCKING UPSET!?”

Luckily he couldn’t actually suffocate but it was pretty claustrophobic. He was kinda dizzy from that punch and clung to Yumi when she grabbed him. He managed to focus on her and felt so much guilt. “i-i meant to t-tell you!” He clung tighter. “i-i’m s-so sorry! i-i couldn’t f-find the time a-and i had a plan b-but it might spoil things a-and we worked so hard a-and- h-holy SHIT you punch hard.” His eyelights were shifting a bit in size and slipping out of focus from how dazed he was. He shook his head hoping to make the ringing sound stop.

She could not see him, too many tears, if she did she would be waited for later to scold him.

“That doesn’t matter! And you could’ve told me BEFORE! YOU KNEW I was coming! But that doesn’t mean you can still make believe people ACTUALLY FUCKING DIED!!”

“And I’m not just upset at you I’m upset at ALL the hosts! Doing something like that is- IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”

She was done now, clinging at Swap. Wait, nevermind she had one more thing to say. But, she kissed him where his lips would be, first.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again… okay?”

He sunk into himself more and more at her words. He was about to speak when he was surprised by a kiss. His whole face turning blue. He blinked in surprise, his eyelights were focused now and heart shaped. He nodded. Shouldn’t he worry about the room filling with plushies and pillows? He was too focused on Yumi to care.

Yumi had calmed down, all that yelling and crying had made her exhausted, not to mention she felt a little hot on her face, for blushing.

“I-I’m sorry for yelling so much… I just… just don’t do that again.”

“A-Are you okay, though? I punched you way harder than I wanted to… s-sorry.”

He had a very small crack on the side of his face. Nothing too bad though. “i-i’m fine. y-you’re really r-really strong!” He sighed in a lovestuck way. Seemed he was still a bit out of it.

It may not have been a bad wound but she knows how hard she punched and he doesn’t seem too much in reality right now. The crack and that worried her.

“Don’t be stubborn Swap. I’m not amazing at healing but you should get patched up and check if you don’t have a concussion.”

Although, she questioned if that was even possible, she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room a little.

“Can you walk?”

He stumbled a bit but could stand fine. Probably walk. He just kept staring at her with shifting heart eyelights. Even he didn’t know if he could get a concussion. But he sure was dazed. “i-i’m fine. l-little dizzy”

“O-okay.”

She finally arrived at the office. She was worried Swap might’ve fallen while they were walking there.

“Sit down while I get some stuff. Do you know where bandages are?”

Swap stumbled in holding his head. Great. Headache. He managed to flop into a seat. “n-no? i…don’t remember. top drawer?” Yeah he was very dizzy. He pressed his hand to the spot that stung the most and tried to focus enough to use healing magic. It only sparked a bit, slightly lessening it for a split second. He groaned in annoyance. A small illusion on his right hand vanished when he tried to heal his face. It was just a small one making his hand look whole. Without it a hole in his palm was visible. Looked like an old wound though. And strangely clean cut. It would be easily hidden below the gloves he normally wore.

She did see it, his hand. It was similar, no… exactly the same as G’s. She wondered how it happened, to him. However she wasn’t too worried about it. Maybe she’ll ask later, for now there are more pressing issues.

“Hey, don’t! I can do it myself. You already look like you’re in pain. I’ll get the bandages, please be patient.”

She sounded more like a mother than his girlfriend right now. But she did found the health kit and took small-ish bandages to cover his wound and heal him as best she could.

“H-hey, I’m gonna try something, o-okay?”

She knew that her magic was a atunned to her emotions, so why not test it out. She kissed him without warning and hovered her hand over his wound.

Huh, her healing was a little faster but, God, why was it still so slow!? It’s just a small crack dammit. She is also unsure and too embarrassed to kiss him again.

He pouted a bit at having to wait. He hated waiting. At least it was sweet she was fussing so much. He loved seeing her care. It made the small voice that told him otherwise shut up for a while. Gosh he loved her. He again was surprised by a kiss. Dangit! Totally flustered again. She always got him while his guard was down. He decided to get a little revenge. He cupped her face and pulled her into another kiss, backing up after a second and smirking in a dazed fashion. He felt so proud of himself.

She basically fell because of how sudden and really an off position to be in to be suddenly kissed by your s/o. However, she didn’t stumble too much, grabbing the back of the chair for stability.

She was even more flustered, yes, but she wanted to kiss him again. She did, a longer one, this time, clumsily keeping herself from falling.

Her heart was beating a lot, she felt like their magic was giving small harmless electric surges to each other. She was blushing a little purple, like the first time they kissed. They should probably stop before some embarrassing stuff happens. She pulled away, clearing her throat.

“U-Um… I should probably continue healing you.”

And flustered again. He leaned into the kiss a bit. A few sparks popping. It ended so soon. He felt so light that he almost didn’t even feel the crack. He wanted to hug her and never let go. Be close and listen to her heartbeat. Hold her hand. He was soooooo smitten. He nodded a bit and giggled like a child who just got a treat. Heart eyelights sparkling. He was still dizzy but that didn’t bother him at the moment. He could only think about how pretty she was.

She placed her hand over his wound again and quickly finished healing him. It left a small scar but it was way quicker to heal him than before, probably because of the kiss she gave him. It did make her feel like her magic was sparking a lot more.

After putting a small bandage on his mostly healed crack she backed away a little and yawned.

“W-Well I’m all done. Do you feel better?”

His head cleared more when it was patched up. He pain had gone away but a headache remained. Which was annoying him. “y-yeah.” He was a little worried about the world spinning. Normally it calmed down by now. Oh wait- He pressed his hand to the back of his neck, taking a breath before a big spark of magic popped which made his eyelights vanish. It took a good thirty seconds for them to show up again but it evened out the dizziness. Something must have gotten set off with his magic levels. It was surprisingly easy to do. He squinted. Oh great. He forgot it made things more blurry for a time. He could hardly see like this. “m-much better! fixed the dizziness too. just…uh….” He looked embarrassed. “d-don’t laugh okay?” And with that he got a pair of glasses out of his inventory. They were large and round and when put on with tape they took up quite a bit of his face. At least he could see with them. Worth it to be able to see her. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever worn them around her before or just told her about them. But he still felt embarrassed for how nerdy they made him look.

“Why would I-?”

Oh my god, those glasses looked so big on him. He looked like a huge nerd, a cute nerd. Holy shit, she couldn’t help but shyly smile. She couldn’t help but say it ou y loud either.

“You look so cute. Why would I laugh?”

He wrung his hands sheepishly. “b-because i look l-like a dork…a-and not as cool as i normally do…?” Girls liked cool guys right?…She seemed to like this too though. Maybe she just liked him. Aaaaand there was that light happy feeling again.

She giggled.

“You are a dork, Swap.”

“You dont need to look cool for me. I like you because you’re you, a huge dork.”

She chuckled shyly. What is she even saying? Stop talking, Yumi, you’re embarrassing yourself.

He beamed brightly. She liked him for him? Well of course she did! Duh what was he even thinking? Worrying about that stuff. He was still a little embarrassed but it was okay. He hopped up and hugged her tightly. “you’re the best!” He paused and put a hand over where the crack had been. “a-and you can really pack a punch.” His eyelights turned into little stars and he looked up at her. “you’re cute and badass!” The best combination. He’d be sure not to get on her bad side.

She jolted a little by the sudden hug, but she did hug him back, giving him a warm smile. However, it turned into a much more embarrassed expression, as he continued complimenting her.

“U-Um… t-thanks.”

“B-But, sorry about that… a-again… I should’ve hold off, since I know karate and all…”

He seemed far too excited about getting punched. “it was super cool! i didn’t see it coming! probably deserved it honestly.” He just seemed to get more excited. “you know karate?! oh my gosh! that’s amazing!” He stood up straighter. “i’m actually pretty tough myself! training for the royal guard and all. so you don’t have to worry!”

Despite still feeling bad for punching him so hard, she couldn’t help but blush even more. He was complimenting her way more than she thought she deserved.

“T-Thanks… and I’ve heard of them, in my world but… I think they disbanded. Or… maybe they serve for something else?”

“But, it’s pretty cool that you’re training in it. S-Still… I shouldn’t have punched you so hard.”

Disbanded? Odd. “it’s fine! i’m use to taking hits.” He sunk a bit into himself. “i made you cry. probably would have punched myself for that.” He bounced back. “really it’s no problem! i get cracks all the time! don’t guilt yourself about it!”

“O-Okay…”

She lowered herself a little, hugging him tightly.

“I-I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay.”

“i’m glad you’re okay too!” He clung tightly for a moment before remembering something. “oh! do you need anything? been eating well? it’s been a little hectic.”

She paused. She hasn’t slept or eaten much, him reminding her of this made her suddenly feel exhausted, but also hungry. She yawned, as her stomach loudly growled.

“W-Well… not really…”

“But, I don’t want to sleep yet! We haven’t spent much time together… but… I should eat something.”

He nodded worriedly. “wanna go to the kitchen? elly made sure we’d have a wide selection of things. what you in the mood for?”

Her stomach growled again as she thought of what to eat.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea because it’s so late but… I could really go for anything that’s meaty.”

“we have lots of things like that! one of my favorites of course would be tacos. but we have other things too if you want! it’s pretty easy to gather things when you have portals. you can get anything from around the world! and everything that is made here by elly’s weird shadow chefs.”

“Nice.” she chuckles.

“But… yeah, tacos sounds nice. Why not?”

He grinned and took her hand. “tacos it is then! this way!” He led her off to the kitchen seeming to have fully recovered.

“U-Um, by the way, are you gonna eat too? You’ve eaten while you were ‘gone’ right?”

“i’m fine! got a stash of stuff in the secret passages. i’ve been taking care of myself.” He totally ignored the other two in the room and skipped over to find where the tacos were. There seemed to be a lot of stuff to pick from. Even more in the fridges.

It took a moment but he found what he was looking for. A plate with freshly made tacos. He picked it up and spun around to face Yumi. “here we are! take what you like!”

She hesitated a little, but decided to take two at random and leave it at that. She was hungry after all, why would she even hesitate? Well, there also was a lot of choices. She takes a bite.

“Mh! This is really good!”

She starts eating almost like a beast, making herself get a cramp for eating too fast. She pats her chest a lot.

He was glad she enjoyed it but worried about her eating so quickly. He did that all the time but he couldn’t choke. “c-careful! don’t eat too fast! you really haven’t eaten in a while have you?”

After a few more pats she was finally okay. However she shook her apologetically at his question, continuing on eating, but actually taking her time.

“S-Sorry… I was too worried and focused on finding clues to even think about it…”

However, she won’t tell him the last time she ate was YESTERDAY AFTERNOON.

“i’m sorry for worrying you so much. i didn’t think you would react that badly…” He pushed aside the negative thoughts that tried to surface. “but no more of that! just a relaxing party! oh! and i wanted to show you something. whenever you’re done eating we can check it out. plenty of dessert here too if you want any of that.” He sighed. “sadly most of it isn’t sugar free so i haven’t tried it.” He was tempted. Soooo tempted.

“It’s fine Swap, really. I forgive you.”

She gave him a reassuring smile. She was curious about what was the place he wanted to show her, though. She took a few more bites before talking again.*

“Nah, I’m good, I’m not much of a sweets person, anyway.”

“really? i love sweets! even though i shouldn’t have them. just tell me when you’re ready!” He stared at the tacos for a moment before taking one and eating the whole thing in one bite. It was weird how far he could open his mouth actually. How’d he fit it all in?? And it looked like didn’t even chew! Then again how do skeletons even digest things without a stomach. All the questions.

She was surprised but, then again she knew monster food didn’t need to be digested. She finished her food.

“Alright, I’m good.”

“you sure? that enough for you? can’t let my girlfriend starve!” He seemed excited for whatever it was he wanted to show her. Like he could dash off any second. But he also wanted to make sure she was okay. Didn’t want to rush her.

She shook her head and smiled reassuringly.

“No, don’t worry, I’m fine. Besides, I don’t want to eat too much before going to bed.”

“okay!” His excitement got the better of him and he grabbed her hand to lead her off to…the closet?

#fallball17 #dis.cord rp #thepositivescientist #~photon reading positive~ (yumi x swap)

[chaniters]

TURNING POINT

Awan finds Lord Ember’s warehouse and starts looking for his revenge, only to come upon a Villain who forces him to make a critical decision.  

Enjoy! (And thanks @kruk-art for letting me write about your OC). 

Warning heavy spoilers!

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You get off the bus and lower your shields as you start walking towards the storehouse.

Hopefully, your scan will be wide enough to reveal any guards before they spot you.

There are no lights on these dark streets, yet you stick to the corners. Anyone could have night vision and catch you in the dark.

It's subtle, but you can definitely feel their presence ahead. They haven't spotted you yet, but it would be impossible to go ahead without getting detected.

Impossible for some maybe. Not for you.

You kneel and focus your mind. One... two... three... six... you project illusions into their mind. A large group of people walking by... tourists lost and looking at their phones. You just hope they don't use binoculars... You're not good enough to add enough details with two guards looking at once. They are just colored blobs with hats, they should hopefully resemble people in the distance.

The guards focus on the empty spot while you slip inside through a service door. You make the tourists walk away out of sight before making them disappear. It would be a mess if they just poofed into thin air, that'd be a rookie mistake. You would be one to know.

Your hand goes instinctively into your bag... The grenades are there. Not enough money to buy proper equipment, but you can steal spare parts and build what you need. And you needed a way to deal with Lord Ember. If your science is correct, this will be enough... Void and Medea are an unexpected problem. You'll have to work on that on the go. Hopefully, you can catch Lord Ember unaware and then escape...?

First things first... You spy into the guard's minds once more...  

It takes a while, but you make a point to memorize the layout of the warehouse.  

The plan is quite straight forward... Find the drug lab... set it on fire... kill Lord Ember with your grenade... and run away.

You want revenge for Nathaniel's death, but you are a practical individual. You'd rather not be seen by someone who can shoot streams of fire powerful enough to turn people to ash in seconds. Killing him should be enough, no matter if he knows why.

The lab is right behind the door in front of you. You take your hand to the handle... but you fall flat instead, narrowly avoiding an energy blast directed at your head.

You roll to the side and see the masked individual approaching you. You were lucky your mind picked his attack in time, or you'd probably be dead right now.

Shit.

The Void.

He seems to be powering up his weapon again. No time for second thoughts. You take the lid of a metal trash bin in front of you and swing it at him.

Bullseye!

The impact makes him drop the energy rifle, and you follow by charging at him with a fist aimed at his face.

He blocks and ...

And then you both stop.

"412?" he asks.

"Nathaniel?" you ask petrified. It's his mind under that mask. You can't be mistaken.

"You... you're here? How? I looked everywhere for you that night! Where did you go? I thought the Directive took you in again!" he puts the gun down.

"I..." you are speechless. But he asked you a question "I thought Ember killed you? How did you...survive?" even as you speak, the realization comes to you. "Wait... were you... were you Ember's accomplice all along?" It starts making sense. That's how they found you... that's how they caught the guards and you unaware... Nath told you to bring him some ammo from the van... and it all happened while you were gone.

"Well... Yes. I was going to tell you but I couldn't with those guards in front of us. I figured I could have some time alone but those fuckers really had it in for you... Well, they did get what they had coming for harming my doll" he chuckles.

"So...you helped Ember steal the drugs?"

"I told you, once the mission was over,  it'd be all be alright for us! And you're here now! This is just perfect! We're free of those idiots... no more farm... just life ahead for us!" he says patting your shoulder. He does that... unlike other handlers who wouldn't touch you with a stick.

"What's with the... " you ask gesturing at his costume

"It's my new identity," he says posing tall. "I'm The Void now. We'll get you a new identity too... with the two of us... we won't need to work for Ember much longer... We'll get our own thing going in no time. This is just what we need to get started" you can sense the plans already forming in his mind. "Mentor? The Mind? Hypnos? So many options for your name" he laughs "God i missed you so much 412!"

"I'm not sure I like those identities," you say stepping back.

"Oh, right... you're growing up! Asserting your own personality... I love that, few dolls live long enough to get there. You're going to be among the select few. Well, tell you what, you can choose your name yourself if you want... I'm so fucking relieved you're here. It'll all be so much easier now."

"No, I mean... I don't think I want to be a supervillain?" you cringe as you speak the words

"Nonsense! We'll make millions like this! With my mods and your telepathy, we'll make a hell of a team... like we always did!"

"But you are killing people! Those drugs... there are dozens of deaths already! And Ember is killing his own men too!"

"We did that all the time back at the farm, or did you forget about that?" he says giving you a condescending look.

"But those... were criminals!"

"Heh. Yeah... depending on your point of view I guess? They can make anyone a criminal these days..."

You almost choke as you hear him say that.

"I don't... I don't want to kill anyone! I never wanted to kill anyone..! Except for Ember... for killing you... but now you're fucking alive?!"  You just want to scream right now.

"Woah... slow down Don't you see how this is meant to be? I lost you in Alaska and now you've found your own way back to me. You and I are a team, remember?"

"Yes... I ... remember"

"So stop whining already. You are going to join me. I'll introduce you to Ember. He'll be over the moon!... We're going to be great"

"No"

"Maybe we can get Medea to help with your costu... what?"

"I said No" You repeat yourself. You are starting to get a bad migraine from this. You even sense a faint buzzing static in the background.

"Whatever do you mean with "no" ?"

"I'm not going to join you! I don't want to be a fucking villain! Or a Hitman! And I thought you were better than this! I thought WE were better than this..." 

"Better than... What the fuck is wrong with you?" he says taking your arm. "Is this another one of your tantrums? Stop this nonsense. We are DOING this"

"I'm leaving," you say freeing yourself 

"I'm ORDERING you to do it!" he says using his authority as your handler.

Only he's no longer your handler. He's a criminal.

"I...hate you!" You don't even have words for this. His mind just thinks you're being incredibly childish and stupid and that he knows what’s best... And you can't stand it  "I'm leaving... fuck you, Nathaniel," you say walking away.

You clean some tears from your eyes as you walk. The murdering idiot is actually making you cry. Fuck this. Fuck it all. You're not staying.

"COME BACK RIGHT NOW! YOU ARE MINE AND YOU'LL DO AS I SAY!"

"You don't fucking own me!" you say without stopping while giving him the finger "I'm never coming back to you."  

"STOP, RIGHT NOW!" he yells furious.

And then you sense it without turning back. ... he's drawing his gun. He's got you in his sights.

"STOP OR I WILL FUCKING SHOOT YOU!"

"You're not going to shoot me, Nath. We were a team. I saved you so many times. You can't do it. I'm going to leave right now. Do whatever you want but leave me alone"

You know he can't do it. You've seen your mind trough and trough... You've known him for so long, there is simply no way he could...

And then your brain warns you he's started pulling the trigger. You try to dodge... But the mods in his left eye make him a perfect Marskman. He corrects his sights... and the energy beam sends you to the ground in pain.

You crawl forwards in the floor, trying not to scream. It hurts so much...

You see his boot near your face.

"I warned you. You belong to me. I'm the only one you've got! I was there when no one else wanted you!"  he speaks while checking the contents of your bag.

"We are together in this, and it's not up for debate." He takes your arms and starts dragging you through the warehouse. You try to struggle, but it only makes the pain worse.

Finally, he lets you down in a small empty room.

"We'll have a chat as soon as I take care of some pending business... So you better learn some manners fast," he says crouching near you.

You try to look away but he forces you to look at him, with a hand on your chin.

"You are MINE. Remember it!"

"You don't... own me" you repeat weakly.

He answers by getting really close, within inches of your face.

"A doll without a handler? Don't be ridiculous. You know you couldn't function, least of all survive out here without me. Maybe I'll leave you here to enjoy your nightmares for a few days, see how you change your tune soon enough... None of the other handlers wanted you, and perhaps I was too patient with you... That's going to change."  

He lets go and slaps you down as you open your mouth again. And then...he justs stands up and leaves the room and taking your grenades with him.

You hear a key turning inside the lock.

Shit. You have to get out of here.

But first, you need to stop the fucking tears...

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My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero    

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #Awan Cormac #The Void #Sidestep #Fanfiction