#emi lost and found

[dvnieldraws]

THAT WAS SO FUN AND SO GOOD? everyone was amazing but LUCIEEE 😭😭🫶

[januaryembrs]

THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

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'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7. 

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.  

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now. 

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included. 

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings. 

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up. 

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt. 

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t. 

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around. 

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help. 

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover. 

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,” 

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,” 

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her. 

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard. 

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her. 

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside. 

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?” 

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again. 

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her. 

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances. 

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece. 

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare. 

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching. 

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up. 

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms. 

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly. 

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help. 

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face. 

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried. 

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing. 

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home. 

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her. 

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic. 

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour  ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed. 

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it. 

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking. 

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed. 

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her. 

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more. 

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm. 

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few. 

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book. 

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,” 

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation. 

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?” 

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend. 

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words. 

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised. 

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse. 

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out. 

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit. 

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t. 

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,” 

Nothing. 

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of. 

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot. 

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver. 

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.  

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,” 

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then. 

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,” 

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out. 

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle. 

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before. 

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise. 

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,” 

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished. 

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack. 

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese. 

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this. 

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her. 

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,” 

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?” 

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid. 

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty. 

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there. 

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her. 

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now. 

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound. 

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too. 

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning. 

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol. 

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. 

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.” 

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile. 

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,” 

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks. 

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway. 

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in. 

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later. 

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing. 

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months. 

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was. 

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again. 

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door. 

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time. 

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years. 

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab. 

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed. 

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was. 

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans. 

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!” 

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck. 

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with. 

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought. 

This never happened. 

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning. 

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s. 

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage. 

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more. 

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom. 

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit. 

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down. 

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her. 

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought. 

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her. 

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke. 

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,” 

“Hm?” 

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks. 

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,” 

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her. 

He felt like a fool. 

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.” 

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,” 

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth. 

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly. 

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.” 

He would be lying if he  said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder. 

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock. 

She kissed him. She had kissed him. 

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again. 

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together. 

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep. 

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow. 

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

[bpmiranda]

Beauty and the Beast II (Logan Howlett) nsfw

A/N: fluffy, smut, beast!logan, belle!reader, 18+ f!reader, fingering, oral f!receiving, claw play, brief mention of unprotected intercourse

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he shared a meal with another person. Especially not with someone quite as kind and beautiful as you. You were unbothered by his mutation, the very thing that had sent him to seclude himself in the mountain decades ago by people whom are now elders or deceased in your town. You aren’t like them, however, he comes to learn. You’re thoughtful and unprejudiced towards his kind.

After dinner, he apologizes for not being prepared to host, but once you find the trunk of books in the guest room, you couldn’t have felt more at home. “I have never been luckier than to get stranded on this mountain with you.” You grinned at him from where you were kneeling on the floor in front of the trunk of unread books, a treat in itself if you ever found one.

“You like to read?” Logan asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched you read each and every cover of the books he had kept away.

“I adore to read,” You said, pausing on one book in particular. Your hand moved slowly over the cover and Logan tilted his head to read the title, it said, ‘The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.’

“What’s that one about?” He asked curiously as it was obvious to him that you knew of its contents by the way you looked at it in a reminiscent manner.

“It’s awfully sad.” You let out a small sigh as you get up with the book still clutched in your hands and you sit beside him on the end of the bed. “It’s about isolation.” Logan’s interest is piqued and he nods at you to continue. “Have you ever craved to belong to something? For companionship?” Not until tonight, Logan thought to himself, but he only nodded again. “But you can’t seem to let others in?” Logan chuckles as he looks at the book in your lap and feels like it might have been written specifically for him.

“Would you read it to me?”

The two of you share the couch in his living room where he pops open a beer and you take a cup of coffee. Logan’s watching you, listening half-heartedly as you read him the novel by Carson McCullers. The sound of your voice is soothing to him, he gets lost in the cadence of it, the way you read the words as if you wrote them yourself. He knows you’ve read it before, but it feels like you are sharing something for the first time. His hand moves slowly onto your thigh as he sips his beer and you bite your lip softly. “Are you still listening?” You ask with a warmed cheeks as you look over at him.

“Yeah, I’m still listening.” Logan smirks, squeezing your legs softly. “Keep reading, please.” He says, scooting closer to you and moving his arm around your waist so you lean back into him and he rests his hand on your hip. As you continue reading, you feel that he is slowly bunching the ends of the flannel you are wearing into his fist to further expose your leg and you tremble as the pads of his fingers caresses your bare thigh.

“Logan,” You murmur, breathing shakily as you try to focus on the line you’re reading. “I’ve never done this before,” You tell him, looking at him over your shoulder and he caresses your chin lightly with his free hand. “With anyone, much less someone like you.” You knew there were abilities that gifted people possessed that could very well harm the nongifted population. You knew his claws were of concern, but what about his enhanced strength or stamina? You feared you wouldn’t be able to handle it, the part of him that might very well be beast-like.

“Do you want me to quit?” He whispers the question in your ear, his head dipping down to kiss you as he continues holding your chin between his fingers. You shake your head and Logan gently takes the book out of your hands and places it on the coffee table before he grabs onto your thighs and sits you between his legs. You gasp as his large hands slowly grasp your thighs open and you feel the growl emitting from his chest vibrate against your back. “You smell so good, beautiful.” He murmurs, sucking on your neck softly as he slides his fingers towards your quickly dampening center while his other hand is holding onto your knee to keep your legs from closing. You are grabbing firmly onto his thighs, your nails digging into the fabric of his jeans as he plays with your clit underneath your panties and you watch. Logan can feel your pulse when he kisses your jaw and he chuckles softly. “You scared of the beast?” He asks with a teasing tone and you bite your lip, shaking your head because you don’t want him to stop.

“It’s a children’s story.” You whisper more to yourself than in response to his question, inhaling sharply as he plunges two fingers into your pussy. “Logan, how in control are you of those claws?” You ask quickly, your eyes screwed shut as he pumps his fingers slowly and deeply, searching the depths of you like no one ever had before.

“I’m in control, princess.” He reassures you and you relax into him, moaning softly as your head tilts back and his free hand slowly slides up your front until he’s holding your neck gently. You feel the cold, slow drag of his claws against your skin and you shudder. “Don’t move.” He instructs as his fingers suddenly curl inside you and press into a spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

You’re trying so hard not to move, but your thighs close around his head as you gasp with the force of your oncoming orgasm. Your head wants to fall forward, but you risk slicing your jugular on his blades and you let it fall back instead, shaking against him violently as he fingers you through you orgasm. “Ah!” You whimper, your hands balling into fists against his thighs as he doesn’t let up.

“Can I taste you?” He asks and you find yourself nodding. His claws retract quickly and you let out a deep breath before he gets up from behind you and kneels in front of you. You’re breathless as he slowly pushes you to sit back and you watch him place your thighs onto his broad shoulders, his hands clamping onto your legs so you can’t move them as he kisses the inside of your thighs. A tremble moves through your body and Logan chuckles, nipping at the soft skin before he kisses your wet cunt. Logan then inhales the scent of your arousal and your hands immediately tangle in his hair to pull him back.

“Don’t,” You gasp, embarrassed while he only smiles. “Please don’t do that.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, beautiful.” He tells you as he uses two fingers to part your slick folds and he groans. “That’s the pretty pussy I’ve ever seen,” He says, his mouth salivating at the sight and smell of you. Your face burns hot as you watch his tongue lay flat against your slit and you let out an involuntary moan. “Tastes so fucking good.” He mumbles into you, refusing to pull away from your sweet hole as he tongues you and pets you with his fingers. Your body reacts to him, to every little thing he does to you, and he adores it. Logan adores how submissive you are for him, how you let him indulge in your cunt well past your climax, claiming it’s simply too good to stop.

“I can’t!” You whine, gasping for air as he only continues mumbling into your sensitive core about him almost being done or how it’s your fault he’s become pussy drunk. “L-Logan, oh, my God!” Your legs shake around his head again, the second orgasm his mouth brought you causing tears to prickle at your eyes and you shut them tightly as you let the overwhelming pleasure consume you.

Logan growls into your pussy, forcing himself to pull away and he kisses you roughly, bringing you to him by the nape of your neck while his other hand is undoing his belt buckle and you gasp at the light metal clinking sound. “I can still stop if you want me to.” He says while already lifting you up to sit you on his lap and you bite your lip nervously as he removes his white t-shirt. Your eyes take in his massive build, the strong muscles of his shoulders and arms, the indentions of his toned abdomen, his large pectorals on which you had been resting your head only moments ago. Your fingers move through the spiraled hair covering his torso and you feel how warm his body is, how inviting he is with the heat which he radiates. “Like what you see?” He asks suddenly and your eyes fall back on his own green ones and you feel embarrassed to have been caught staring at him, touching him, even if he had just eaten you out for nearly half an hour.

“I don’t want to stop.” You say decidedly, almost bravely, and Logan smiles as he guides you back down to his lips. His hand subtly lifts you up slightly and he lets you sink back down onto his shaft. Your mouth falls open at the sudden stretch and he shushes you, his lips never leaving yours as he encourages you. “It won’t-uh-won’t fit.” You whine.

“Take your time.” He whispers, kissing you gently as he undoes your belt which cinched his flannel around your waist and he feels you quake around him with anticipation as he undoes each button slowly. “We have got all night, princess.”

There were a lot of requests for part two of Beauty and the Beast and I was more than happy to oblige you, kind readers💕

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @salientseraph @wolviesgirl @cherrypieyourface @bobateababe @justaspeachy @fandomsunited @aheadfullofsteverogers @torossosebs

[emisloves]

A FRIEND LIKE HIM ✦ N.RK

pairing: bsf!riki x fem!reader

genre: best friends to lovers

warnings: mixed signals, mutual pining (but not very obvious), jealousy, kissing, forced (?) making out, fluff

word count: 2.6k

a/n: looks familiar? i had posted it on @/emi-en, my previous blog. this was also my first attempt at fluff, so it isn't my best work. i am not very proud of this one.

You truly were grateful for having a friend like Riki.

From when you guys met back in second grade, when he shared his bento with you after finding you crying on the rooftop, since your mother forgot to pack you lunch, right up to your high school years, when he holds your hand to make sure you don’t get lost in crowds.

You really were grateful for him.

It's just that– sometimes you wished he wasn't so– confusing.

It was the third time this month. The third time a guy had come up to you to ask you out, before stuttering and backing up at the last second. The reason? Why, it's Riki of course.

He was always with you. Everywhere. He almost never left you alone, especially with a guy. His excuse was always the same whenever you confronted him about it.

“I just don't want to leave you alone with them– you know how some people can be when they don't get their way, right?”

It frustrated you beyond measure. But you understood his intentions. The last time you were alone on your own with a guy that wasn't him– didn't end very well.

Long story short, you had once managed to evade Riki and gone to the rooftop all by yourself, where you coincidentally met another classmate of yours. Said classmate was fairly nice, leading you guys to have a long conversation with each other– before he started being creepy.

Just before he could actually try anything, Riki found you guys. He took one look at your uncomfortable expression and the other dude’s face, immediately making an excuse about how you were both late to your after school tuition, quickly wrapping an arm around your shoulder and taking you away from the guy. So yes, in a way, you understood his protectiveness.

But this wasn't it. There were so many more things about him that confused you to no end. You see, he likes to give you mixed signals.

“Now what would you need my hair tie for?”

Riki scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Well– you know– look, all my friends wear one on their hand, okay? I also want one–”

You stared at him, unamused. “All of your friends also have girlfriends. They wear their girlfriends’ hair ties on their hands. You don't have a girlfriend. By wearing my hair tie, you would be basically saying that I am your girlfriend.”

He groaned. “Who cares what they think? If I want to wear your hair tie, I will. Now stop complaining and give me one.”

You sighed, taking a hair tie out of your pouch and handing it to him. Riki was persistent, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you until you gave in.

To any passer-by, it would seem like he has feelings for you, right?

Wrong.

“How do I ask her out?”

You stopped chewing the end of your pencil momentarily, looking up from your work, surprised. You weren’t aware of Riki having a crush. “Who?”

Hei shook his head. “Doesn't matter, just tell me how I should ask a girl out. In a way where she absolutely cannot reject me.”

You raised a brow at him. So he had a crush on a girl, who he desperately wanted to go out with, and he decided you were the best person to ask for help from. Was it normal for you to feel hurt in a situation like this?

You shook off your stupid thoughts, before thinking deeply. “Well– you need to make it special and memorable for her.”

He stared at you cluelessly, causing you to stifle a groan. Must you teach him exactly how to ask a girl out?

“Maybe get her favorite flowers. A big bouquet of them. Don't ask her directly to be your date, make a special speech for her, the more emotional, the better. Remember, background also matters. If you do all that at some stupid place like a parking lot or something similar– prepare to get rejected.”

Riki slowly nodded, processing all the information. “Right– thanks a lot, dwarf.”

You gave an offended gasp. Dwarf? After you tell him exactly how to get a date without fail, he insults your height? Again?

You weren't even that short. It's not your fault he decided to keep growing until he was practically a giant– towering over not just you, but almost everyone in school. No wonder he is the Basketball Team Captain– but that's beside the point.

Do you see how confusing he is now? Well, guess what? There is more to it.

Riki always holds your hand in crowds, claiming you're ‘so short you can easily get lost, or worse, kidnapped.’ You had taken great offense to it the first time he said that, refusing to talk to him for two days– before he brought you ice cream at your house, causing you to finally cave in.

Since then, you haven't complained again. If Riki wants to hold your hand in crowds to ensure your safety, who are you to complain? Especially when his hand feels so warm and comforting against your own– but he doesn't have to know that.

Today was no different. Both of you were outside, having decided to hang out together for the entire evening, eating at different food stalls without any adult supervision. The streets were more crowded than usual, prompting him to hold your hand the entire time. The only times he left your hand was when the two of you stopped at a stall to eat.

As the evening rolled by, the streets got less and less crowded. Riki still hadn't left your hand.

It was already eight pm now. There were barely any people around– five people, give or take? That isn't considered a crowd, right? Then why was he still holding your hand?

You suddenly stopped walking, causing Riki to stop as well. He turned around, tilting his head and looking at you curiously. Noticing your silence, he finally spoke. “Why did you stop?”

You bit your lip, before snapping at him. “Why didn't you stop?”

He blinked, looking utterly baffled by your sudden outburst. “What do you mean by that?”

You rolled your eyes, before lifting both of your intertwined hands in front of his face. “This. You said you will hold my hand when we are in a crowd to prevent myself from getting lost– does this look like a crowd to you?”

Riki blinked, before opening his mouth, as if to say something, only to close it again. After ten extremely slow seconds, he spoke. “I just– like holding your hand– it feels nice–”

It was your turn to be stumped. Was it his life’s mission to make your heart flutter? You could only hope he didn't realize how red you were–

You snapped yourself out of the weird thoughts, mentally scolding yourself. ‘He doesn't like you like that, he is planning to ask someone else out to prom– stop overthinking his actions.’ That's what you always told yourself. Because, at the end of the day, he was just your best friend, and it’s normal for best friends to act this way– right?

You realized how stupid you looked just standing and staring at him, after he confessed to your hand feeling nice to hold. You cleared your throat, before speaking again. “Right– let's just go home now. It's pretty late anyway.”

One thing was for sure. You most definitely had a crush on Riki. The only problem? He is your best friend, there is no way you're ruining your friendship with him over a stupid crush that probably won't last.

You were wrong. Your feelings towards him did not fade away. Instead, they seemed to intensify, carving into an ugly jealousy whenever he looked at another girl or vice-versa. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your feelings, you couldn't help but look elsewhere when such an event happened, clenching your jaw or subtly rolling your eyes. Only, you weren't as subtle as you thought.

Both of you were on your way to the lockers, school having just ended. You were putting your books inside, while Riki waited for you beside your locker. Once you were done putting your books away, you closed the locker door, turning to him. “Alright I’m done let’s g–”

You stopped speaking, witnessing the exchange between Riki and another girl. The girl smiled at him and handed him a chocolate, before speaking. “Your last Basketball match was really fun to watch! You play really well, Riki. No wonder the coach selected you as captain. I will be there in your next match, wearing a jersey with your number to support you! Good luck!”

The girl smiled again, before walking away. The entire time she spoke, Riki was smiling. You couldn’t help the jealousy that flared in your chest at their interaction.

Riki looked at you, his smile dropping at your expression. He frowned at you. “What happened?”

You tried to neutralize your expression. “Nothing. Let’s just go home.”

He shook his head, fully turning towards you. “It doesn’t seem like it’s ‘nothing’."

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and starting to walk away from him. “As I said, it’s nothing. So drop it.”

Riki sighed, his shoulders slumping at your cold tone. He trailed behind you like a kicked puppy, not saying anything else.

The two of you lived in the same neighborhood, so both of you always went home and came to school together. Both of you always took a shortcut, a some-what creepy alleyway, in absence of which it would take an extra half an hour to travel.

Today, as you were walking through the same alleyway on your way back, you suddenly felt a tug on your hand. You turned around, to see Riki pulling you by the hand. “What happened?”

He didn’t let go of your hand. “We are alone now. Tell me what happened back there.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shrug off his grasp– in vain. “Nothing happened. Let go of my hand.”

He was starting to get pissed off by your stubborn attitude. “Either you tell me now, or we stay here till you decide to stop being childish.”

You glared at him, harshly trying to tug your hand out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you? I just told you nothing happened, didn’t I? Let go of me–”

He tightened his hold on your hand, giving it a harsh tug, pulling you towards him. You gasped, stumbling forward, into his chest. He held you tightly by the waist, leaving you no room to escape. You put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away, in vain. “What the fuck–”

He glared at you. “Do you know how annoying it is when you decide to be such a stubborn bitch? I asked you nicely about what the actual fuck your problem was, didn’t I? However, it seems like you don’t understand anything when you’re spoken to nicely. Will you speak up now, or will I have to force an answer out of you?”

You scoffed at his audacity. “Are you threatening me now?”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue. “If threatening you is what it takes for you to finally speak up, then yes, yes I am threatening you.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him. You pushed him with all your strength, causing his grip to loosen, taking the chance to immediately run away. He was shocked at how you suddenly broke free, before shaking off his surprise and immediately running after you. His long legs caught up to you quickly, holding your wrist and harshly tugging it. You gasped, stumbling, causing him to quickly catch you. He slammed you against the alley wall, pinning your wrists above your head. He leaned down to be face to face with you. “Will you speak up now, or are you going to keep being stubborn?”

You looked at him, shock written all over your face. Your face hardened almost immediately. “Fuck you.”

His gaze sharpened. “Fine then. I didn’t want to do this but you left me no choice.”

Before you could come up with another sassy reply, Riki suddenly smashed his lips against yours, causing you to freeze.

The kiss was nothing like what you had imagined before. It was harsh, as if he was trying to punish you non verbally for not answering him. You didn’t reciprocate his kiss, keeping your lips firmly sealed. You could tell he was starting to get frustrated, but you still didn’t kiss him back.

He was starting to get pissed, letting go of your wrists to hold your waist in one hand, your jaw in the other. He bit down on your lip, drawing blood, causing you to gasp. He could care less about your discomfort, sucking the blood off your lip. He tilted your head with one hand, deepening the kiss.

You finally kissed him back, slowly bringing your hands to his shoulders. His kiss became a lot gentler, his grip on you loosening. After what felt like an eternity, you both finally parted.

He rested his forehead on yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. “Will you tell me what’s the matter now?”

You gulped, before sighing. “Nothing really. I was just– jealous.”

He frowned, lifting his head. “Jealous? Why so?”

You bit your lip, looking down. “That girl– she was talking to you and all you did the entire time she spoke was smile at her.”

He smiled slightly, lifting your chin. “It was only common courtesy.”

Upon seeing you continuing to sulk, he pressed a small peck to your lips, before speaking. “Besides, she isn’t the one that I’m kissing right now, is she?”

You went red in the face, praying he didn’t realize how hard you were blushing, before a thought struck you, causing your mood to sour again. “Why are you kissing me anyway? You shouldn’t do things like this casually just to get an answer out of someone.”

He laughed in disbelief, before pecking your cheek. “Remember when you told me exactly how to ask out a girl so that she wouldn’t be able to reject me in any circumstances?”

You slowly nodded. “Yea? What about it?”

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, I wanted to ask you out that way. A big bouquet of lilies and daisies, talking about how we met, how I felt about you at that time, when was the first time you made my heart flutter, how I got jealous of all the guys that tried to ask you out– all of it at the rooftop of our school, where we first met. But none of that matters now right? Since you already know how I feel.”

The entire time that he spoke, you listened to him, your eyes were open so widely that they looked like hearts. You smiled once he was done. “I had forgotten to add another thing. None of that matters if the girl you’re asking out is into you already.”

He looked baffled for a few seconds, before his eyes widened in realization. He smiled so wide that it started to hurt his cheeks. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, one that you gladly reciprocated. When you both broke apart, he leaned his forehead on yours, a small smile on his face. “This might not have been how I planned to confess, but I’m glad it happened this way.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “I’m glad too.”

[qkmlh]

Cool cool cool cool cool please excuse me as I vividly think about Professor Sato keeping bunny (Ollie) around all these years. A deeply beloved toy that Kenji found comfort in as a child, and how he goes on to gift it to Emi. Thus allowing Kenji to, in turn, share the comfort he felt back then with his own daughter, now, when she needs it most.

How Kenji harmonizes with his dad and bunny in singing Bingo to Emi (how singing is such an important expression of love in Lost Ollie)

How Emi comes to adore bunny so much she first goes back to grab him on the beach before showing him to her daddy because she couldn’t leave bunny behind. He was too important to her, even when things were getting scary, to leave him behind.

“She was loved so much she fell apart”

And thinking about Ollie going through the worst to make it back. Being in such an awful state, but still so loved, he’s cleaned up and fixed to then get passed down and share the love he brought.

Made with a love shared and passed forward from generations of parents to children.

[deathbypufferfish]

~ click here to read the written story while you read this legacy post! It is under the cut as well ~

So many good things happened that night. Getting a fake relationship off your chest, coming out, touching. If only Ilya hadn't tried to kiss him. And if only he wasn't drunk enough that Haru had stop him. Maybe then Ilya wouldn't have run away and maybe then neither of their hearts would be broken. Too many things happened that night.

Full written scene under cut (word count: 1635)

Somewhere in-between Emi’s keg-stand and Joe’s flirting, Haru had lost track of Ilya.

What began as a simple scope around the room had quickly turned into a frantic search and a pit of anxiety in Haru’s stomach. The last time he saw Ilya he was downing his beer with fervor. It was something he had never seen before. He wondered if he had ever even seen him drink in the first place.  Anxious thought upon thought was stacking up in his brain when the most obvious location finally came to mind. His dorm room. 

The tower of thoughts toppled over and a new mixture of emotions arose. Anticipation and excitement. Haru had accepted weeks ago that things between him and the dancer would never be more than friendly, but the feelings he tucked away were hard to keep down. They haunted him at night and filled idle daydreams throughout the day. Imagining scenario after scenario. But that was all they were and all they ever could be, daydreams. He just needed to find Ilya already.

Once down the hall Haru could tell by the dim glow underneath his door that his bedside lamp was still on. He walked in and his hunch was confirmed. Ilya was sitting on the floor, his back leaned up against Haru’s bed, and his shoes were off . He lazily stroked the wooden grooves of the nightstand. Slowly and exaggerated. It was very apparent that he was drunk out of his mind.

“I’m sorry, I was looking at your stuff,” he slurred.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been looking at all your things. Like your pictures…and your books…” He barely spoke louder than a murmur. His fingers still traced the wood as he spoke.

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” Haru didn’t know what else to say. Not a single thing made sense to him right now. Ilya was drunk, in his room, and apparently perusing through his things. That pit of anxiety returned with a vengeance. Ilya finally turned to look at him. His eyes were red. His shirt collar was wet with tears. Haru’s actions came to him so naturally after that.

He let him help him off the floor and onto his bed. There was no protest or drunken apologies. Ilya simply stared at him with an expression that felt so blank and yet so sad. His gaze felt heavy on him. Intrusive even.

He knelt to the ground and grabbed his shoes. Without even thinking, he began to put them back on Ilya. He immediately felt like such a fool, but it was too late. Stopping now would be worse, right? Right? As he tied his laces he dared to take a peek up at Ilya’s face. He was covering his face with both of his hands, but Haru could still see furious blushing on the tips of his ears. He finished tying his shoes as quickly as possible as the blood rushed to his own face as well.

Haru sat next to Ilya on his bed at a respectful distance, and they both sat in silence for an uncomfortable minute or so. Ilya shifted back and forth every once and a while, seemingly always on the edge of saying something. At last he spoke in just a soft enough whisper to hear.

“I’ve never had a friend like you.”

“What do you mean?” Haru turned to look at him, but still found him evading his gaze. Ilya rubbed his hands along the knees of his jeans. Slowly feeling the rough fabric slide to and fro underneath his palms. Haru thought it almost sounded like the rolling of waves along a shore. Every sentence seemed to take him a great deal of time to form and think through. Whether it was the alcohol or nerves, Haru couldn’t tell.

“I mean, I’m close with Katya, but not like I am with you.”

“Well, she’s your girlfriend. Of course it would be different.”

“No, no, it’s not different,” he snapped. “She's not actually my girlfriend.”

Ilya squeezed his eyes shut and clenched the fabric in his hands. What was he talking about? Did they break up? Haru had seen them talking to each other just an hour ago. If he was honest, he hadn’t been watching them that closely. He’d rather not see his unrequited crush talk to his girlfriend, but he would have at least noticed any domestic tension.

The reality of Ilya’s confession dawned on him. They weren’t in a real relationship and maybe never were. They were faking it. When he looked at it under this lens, he realized that they never truly interacted as a couple. Of course, except when Katya would kiss Ilya in front of him. Maybe it was for show. Maybe it was Katya’s disdain for Haru. But Ilya had just confessed that their relationship was never truly romantic. More than that, Haru thought about what this may mean for Ilya’s sexuality.

“Oh…I see.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he whispered.

Ilya finally turned to look at him. They were closer together than Haru initially realized. He couldn’t help but examine every mole, every crease, every detail of his sorrowful, yet beautiful face. It was hard to breathe in such close proximity. The hugs they had shared before felt prudish in the shadow of this intimacy.

He tried to deny it, but he felt as if Ilya was doing the same thing. The way he was leaning in, the way his chest heaved with his shallow breaths. That far-fetched idea of him loving him back felt so tangible all of a sudden. And it was terrifying

“It’s okay. You could have never told me, and it would still be okay,” he whispered back. “I care about you.”

Ilya opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His face was burning red again. His eyes wide and dilated. Haru couldn’t bear it, being so close. It was pure torture. As his stomach flipped and the heat rose in his chest he took his chance and laid a soft hand over Ilya’s.

It was stiff and terribly awkward at first. Ilya had frozen so quickly you would think he would shatter. Haru was wondering if he had made a grave mistake when Ilya’s deep breath interrupted him. In just a moment more he mellowed under his touch, simply letting his hand lay atop his own. For a moment everything fell still. They did not speak, they just sat in each other’s presence. After a while things began to feel tense again, overwhelming even, so Haru broke the silence.

“How about we get you some coffee?” he said.

Ilya was still staring at the floor, but a small smile had crept up onto his stern face. He nodded. Haru stood up and tried to gain his composure before leaving the privacy of his dorm room. Ilya followed suit, but wobbled at his own sudden movement. Haru grabbed his elbow and steadied him with a soft chuckle. Coffee was a requirement at this point. Ilya stared at Haru's hand on his arm and before Haru could even react he found himself in his arms.

Sure they had hugged before, but it was fleeting and friendly. This was something else entirely. Ilya was practically hanging off him, pressing most of his weight into their embrace. He pressed his face into his shoulder and sighed. Haru could have passed out right then and there. This entire night was threatening his ability to stay conscious, honestly. It was worth it, he decided, and pressed his cheek to the top of the shorter man’s head. His curls tickled his nose. It was hard to not think about how much he loved him.

Ilya pulled away only slightly, their faces mere inches apart. He leaned in further. Their lips had only barely made contact when Haru had brought a hand up to his chest. He pushed him away as gently as he could. He was drunk, too drunk, but those words could not get out faster than Ilya's face fell. Complete and utter horror.

”No, Ilya, please wait! I love you, I do!”

It was too late. Ilya bent his head under the weight of his shame. He shoved him off so hard Haru stumbled into the nightstand, knocking the lamp onto its side. He grabbed at Ilya’s sleeve, tears streaming down his face, but Ilya shook him off once again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

His voice was layered with so much emotion it pierced Haru’s heart like a dagger. It was over. He humiliated him. He had humiliated himself. 

Ilya slammed the door shut in his escape. Haru ran after him, but lingered as he reached for the doorknob. He couldn’t run after him in the midst of the party. It would just have made things worse, much worse. He knew this, yet it took everything in him to not open that door and chase after him anyways. To tell him how much he loved him. How he didn’t want him to have any regrets about their first kiss being a drunk, crying mess. He couldn’t tell if it was the right or wrong thing to do. The heartbreak had crippled any logical thought or reason he could have come up with. It didn’t matter anymore.

He slid down the door as the floodgates opened up. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to even think through the sobs that tore through him. The banging at the door began as Emi shouted at him to move out of the way in-between asking what happened. Eventually he would let her in and eventually he would stop crying, but for now all he could do was lay down and hope he would sink into the floor. Into nothing. Never to be seen again.

[mehidktbh]

There's A First For Everything

Pairing: Mafia!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You find yourself surprised, shocked and all of the above with the recent discovery of that strange man working under the same business roof as you. But with your supervisor preoccupied, it's the mysterious consultant who steps in. He takes you under his wing, guiding you through the building.

Warning: A small mention of sex and intimacy

A/N: Getting back on that Tumblr grind after months of being off. Sorry about that and I apologise for the sudden drop in posting and this series cliffhanger. Back its back and improved with my more better writing improvement.

Taglist: @captainsbaby, @feedthefandoms995, @kyuupidwrites, @fatedeniedhope, @bangirl134, @blueoorchid, @iimfae, @a1nazzz, @motherofreposts, @emi-flaces, @liliumbosniacum, @whore-for-anime, @zeyzeys-stuff, @greenhornphotography, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @simonsslvt, @bunky101, @gisselleherrerposts, @natchayaphorn, @xdarkcreaturex, @theunknownartistsworld, @somelikeitmaat, @mxtokko

▻ Chapter 3 from the It’s Always Been You series ◅

Your heart pounded in your chest as you faced the reality that the mysterious man from the club was not only part of this enigmatic company but had a role that extended far beyond the dance floor. Mr. Riley, the man who had saved you from the clutches of danger, was deeply entwined with this organization.

Simon acknowledged the introduction with a nod, his expression giving nothing away. Those piercing blue eyes, which had held a hint of amusement when you two first met, his eyes ranked you up and down. He was like a wolf, picking out the things that you felt he could see made you squirm.

"Welcome, Y/N," he said, his tone neutral.

You nodded, struggling to find your voice. "Hello."

Mr. Reynolds, who had been observing the between you two interaction with an unreadable expression, suddenly stoped as he spoke. "I'm sure you have many questions, Y/N. But for now, let's focus on your role here. Mr. Riley will be your point of contact for any inquiries or assistance you may need."

Mr. Riley gave a curt nod, acknowledging his responsibility. "I'll do my best to ensure you settle in smoothly, Y/N."

With that, Mr. Reynolds excused himself, leaving you alone with Mr. Riley in the office. The weight of the situation bore down on you. As you watched Mr. Riley leaned against a nearby desk, studying you with a sudden and new hint of curiosity. "You seem surprised."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "I am. I never expected… any of this."

He gave a wry smile, though there was a glint of something else in his eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher. "Life has a way of surprising us, Y/N."

As the minutes passed, Mr. Riley began to unravel the things of your new role, explaining the tasks and responsibilities that lay ahead. Despite the initial shock, his guidance put you at ease, and you found yourself drawn to his enigmatic presence.

"Sorry, but Mr. Riley-"

"Simon. Call me Simon."

His interruption was gentle, and his eyes held a hint of warmth as he corrected you. A strange mix of emotions bubbled within you - confusion, curiosity, and an unexplainable attraction to this enigmatic man. Simon Riley, the consultant.

You cleared your throat, feeling a nervous chuckle creeping up your throat at the realization that you were getting lost in his gaze. "Simon," you repeated, "I was wondering about my office and, well, where I'll be working."

Simon straightened, his posture commanding and confident. "Of course, Y/N. Follow me."

With that, he led the way out of Mr. Reynolds' office and into the corridor. The building's interior was a stark contrast to its unassuming exterior. Polished marble floors stretched beneath our feet, and the walls were adorned with sleek, modern artwork. As you two walked, Simon explained, "Your office is on the twenty-first floor, and it's ready for you. I've arranged a workspace that should suit your needs. I hope it meets your expectations."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of your own office, yet questions nagged at the edges of your mind. "A workspace?" At previous office jobs those who are new start from the ground up, a bathroom-sized cubicle and an even smaller office for your 'hard-earned' work you did for the business for ten-plus years.

Simon raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Of course, I pulled some strings. I always aim for the best for newcomers like you."

As you and Simon reached the elevator, he pressed the button for the twenty-first floor. The ride-up was silent, but the tension in the confined space. When the elevator doors opened, you stepped out onto the twenty-first floor, and Simon led you down a corridor lined with identical wooden doors. Each door had a nameplate indicating its occupant.

Finally, you and he arrived at a door with your name neatly engraved on a nameplate. Simon opened it to reveal a tastefully decorated office with a large window offering a breathtaking view of the city. A sleek desk, a comfortable chair, and an assortment of office supplies awaited you.

You stepped inside, taking in the space that would soon become your sanctuary within this enigmatic building. "It's… perfect," you admitted, genuinely impressed.

Simon leaned against the doorframe, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it, Y/N. You'll find everything you need here." His gaze was like a caress, tracing the contours of your figure as you faced the expansive window that overlooked the sprawling city of Manhattan below. You were completely unaware of his secretive admiration of your tight shirt and unmatching heels. It gave him the feeling that you were cute to the picky eye of him.

As his eyes traced the lines of your fitted shirt and the unmatching yet oddly charming heels you wore. It was clear that he found your unconventional style appealing, a departure from the fake and bratty women he must have encountered in his world. The ones that throw themselves at him for a bit of his dick or just praise.

"Good luck on your first day, Y/N," he said, his voice low and intimate. With a faint, enigmatic smile, he closed the door. He was so quick to leave as if he realised he better leave before he did something embarrassing or regrettable. Yet only now do you turn around to drop an unheard "Bye" as he had already disappeared like the mysterious shadow he was down the hall. As you prepared for the new office day ahead.

Little did you know that Simon's fascination with you was growing into something far more powerful—an obsession that would shape the course of everything.

[en-geneisaxx]

Case: L̶O̶V̶3A̶N̶D̶R̶3V̶3N̶63

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘/𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖝𝖙: 𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍, 𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊, 𝖒𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆 𝖆𝖚, 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉, 𝖌𝖚𝖓𝖘, 𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖌𝖊, 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎 (𝖒𝖙𝖇𝖆)

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔, 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅/𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅!! დ

ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏғʀᴇᴀᴅ

Part 1:

Everyone's so damn stressed, worried and exhausted in my organisation. Multiple members had just vanished, not a trace of their existence to be seen, heard, smelled, like as if our senses were damaged or played with.

Most of the higher-ranked detectives were gone as well, leaving only me to do the hard tasks. I had many cases to solve. And although I was determined to help the ones in need, a part of me just wanted to give up. I'm sorry to the lost souls, I am in dire need of sleep, for there isn't enough trained personnel to take your tragic path and end up in one piece.

I look at each case, selfishly waiting for the end of my shift. People can't be bothered to nag me on, for they cannot say much too.

13:00= Mid-day meal; lunchtime. I have been waiting for a food to indulge my tastebuds with, and to fill my grumbling stomach, complaining for the lack of company. Just as I close my eyes to savour the chicken caesar wrap, a staff member comes sprinting in my direction, arms flapping about.

"MR SIM, MR SIM. OH MY-" He breathlessly shouts out, chest heaving in excitement, "GO TO BOSS' OFFICE, NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOWWWWWW" Body jumping about, teeth showing with baggy, but joyful, eyes.

I eat my wrap whilst heading towards the boss' room, curiosity filling my head. What could be the cause of such delight? Higher pay? A leave? I thought that the possibilites of the missing members being found was at a minimal,

"You're going to be incharge of this case, the one who's going to find our hidden brothers."

Finally, something I can work on, and especially worthwhile. It can be the end of the shitty situation we're in, allowing me to have a break for my presence.

I took a read of the anonymous tip, trying to spot out any clues, meanings, anything.

It was weird though, for it was solely written for me, as it says:

𝑻𝒐: 𝑴𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏.

No one had ever done that before, much less know my name. We just manage to show we're different using the power of fashion.

Could this person have known me, or stalked me? Should I trust this letter, the sender? It was anonymous, making it difficult to identify such a person.

This could just be a joke, something to follow my elders' cursed ending.

I stare at the letter, and the person must've been educated, having such a beautiful handwriting. At the bottom, it says '𝐫3𝐯3𝐧63' as the person signing-off.

Ugh, now I've got to get my brain running,

"Just who are you..."

Tagging: @pockettwinzz @potatohoon @diorsyun @dollywons @rinbowaman @heeslomll @hoonieshoneymain @emi-en @jaylaxies @sungvrhs @velvetkisscs

[animation-cartoon-fan-writings]

A Secret Darkness

Idea by Stardust948

Part 2 Part 3

Princess Emi of the Fire Nation had always been a happy ball of sunshine. The first born child of Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara, she radiated a different type of light than the world had been seen before her birth. A happy baby, Emi began smiling and giggling at two-months-old and rarely stopped since.

For her parents, their eldest child lived up perfectly to her name, meaning “blessing”. After losing so much to the One-Hundred-Year War, both mentally and physically, Emi was the light of their whole worlds right from the moment Katara found out she was pregnant.

Zuko in particular vowed to himself the moment his daughter was born that he would protect her from all of the darkness of the world. Whether it meant spoiling her beyond belief, indulging in Emi’s every whim and dropping whatever he was doing if she as much as called for him, or instinctively picking her up and taking her away from any place or situation that could be considered even the least bit dangerous. Zuko was a protective girl dad through and through.

This protective instinct was often extended to the people Zuko was cautious of letting into his child’s life, including his own family.

Azula hadn’t been a large part of Zuko’s life following the end of the war, having been put in a psychiatric facility almost immediately following her loss during Sozin’s Comet. During the entirety of Katara’s pregnancy with Emi, the Fire Lord assumed his kids would never meet their aunt. Thankfully, his sister had recovered enough to be discharged when Katara was five-months-pregnant.

It was a long process, but Azula’s weekly therapies and regular medication really helped stabilize her mind, they eventually got to a place where Zuko was more comfortable gradually letting her back into his life. Soon enough, when Emi was three-months-old, Zuko finally introduced his new bundle of sunshine to her aunt. Since then, Azula has accepted the title of “cool aunt” and was quite good at it. She loved her niece and prayed to Agni above that she never lost that light of innocence in her eyes.

Despite having been reunited with his own mother, finding her alive with a new husband and 10-year-old daughter, Zuko hesitated on introducing her to Emi until she was around a year old. Even so, Ursa barely had a relationship with Emi, too focused on her new life and her youngest daughter Kiyi. It was that, along with other things, that led Zuko to decide to go low contact with his mom. He refused to let his daughter go through what he did and would not trust anyone with her if they were not going to be a reliable presence.

Then, there was Ozai. Zuko had been adamant from the moment he and Katara started discussing the possibility of having children that his father would not have anything to do with his kids. This was one thing that the Fire Lady had no problem with, knowing just how evil Ozai was and would always be. So, Emi grew up for the most part believing Iroh was her paternal grandfather, calling him “Papa Iroh”.

As Emi grew older and started getting more curious about the world around her, Zuko’s protective levels started going into hyperdrive. This wasn’t helped by the fact that, since having her, he and Katara had expanded their family by two, with his wife giving birth to their second daughter Kya (named after Katara’s late mother) when Emi was two, followed by their third child and first-born son Kallik just a few years later. How was he supposed to keep his eye on a rambunctious little girl, a toddler, and a newborn while simultaneously keeping up with all his duties as Fire Lord?

Unlike the Fire Lords of the past, Zuko made it clear that he and Katara would not rely on an arsenal of nannies and servants to raise their children. This meant the royal couple did the majority of the childrearing themselves. While they did have Iroh, Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee living at the palace to help on occasions where both he and Katara were super busy, it wasn’t like any of them could be at multiple places at once.

Plus, Emi was starting to get really good at sneaking away undetected for long periods of time. While she thankfully never went beyond the palace grounds, it was still a frightening experience as Zuko would be frantically searching every corner of the palace and beyond for his missing daughter, only to find her hiding in some small corner of the palace library with a smile on her face, eating a freshly-stolen box of cookies from the kitchen.

While it usually wasn’t any more than that, this habit of exploring places throughout the palace that she wasn’t allowed to be in often led to some close calls. Catching her before she got too close for comfort.

Unfortunately, on one fateful day, it happened.

Emi, now six-years-old, wanted to play with mommy and daddy, but unfortunately, they were too busy. At the moment, Katara was feeding the five-month-old Kallik and Zuko was stuck in a meeting with his council, leaving Aunt Azula to at least try to keep an eye on both her and four-year-old Kya.

After several hours, Azula thought she finally got the two young princesses down for their nap. But, the minute she left the room to fetch the girls some snacks and juice, Emi woke up and escaped her Aunt’s suite to once again start exploring the unchartered places of the large Fire Nation palace.

After a while, she found herself downstairs, below the grounds of her home, down in a place she had never seen before. It was mostly dark, except for the flickering of fire light from the torch flames that lines the walls. Emi knew she should go back upstairs before someone realized she was missing, but her naivety and strong sense of curiosity got the better of her. She kept slowly walking through the narrow hall, her big golden eyes looking all around her with such wonder.

Suddenly, the little princess stumbled upon a dark cave marked off by chains and a sign that read “High Risk Prisoner, Under Strict Lockdown, No One is Permitted to go Beyond this point without the presence of authorized staff”. While most people would read that and immediately turn back, Emi didn’t really know how to read anything beyond the level of her picture books and fairy tales.

She was completely oblivious to the darkness a person could possess. She grew up believing everyone and everything was all happy and bright. That even those that were bad at first would eventually become good with just the right help and encouragement. That just a bit of kindness and forgiveness would enough for people to change. She had no idea just what she would find when she got her little body past the chains to see what was on the other side of the cave.

Emi walked slowly down the path. As she approached the end, she saw an old man behind a wall of clear metal. Who is this man?, she thought. His hair was light grey, long and disheveled. His eyes were locked to the floor, devoid of any emotion. Sitting with his back against the wall, his body crouched over like an old hermit just passing the little time he had before death finally took him. Emi kept her distance from him, but her curiosity kept her from running in the other direction.

Suddenly, the man slowly turns his head, looking right at the young princess. Emi cautiously takes a few steps forward as the man’s eyes widen. “Azula?,” the man finally speaks. The child doesn’t answer. Instead, she cocks her brow, confused as to why the man just called her by her Aunt’s name.

Emi did resemble her father a lot. She had his ember-colored eyes and midnight black hair. But, her skin tone was only one shade lighter than her mother’s natural mocha shade. Her father, in comparison, had a light ivory skin tone, just like Aunt Azula. So, Emi didn’t know how this man she had never met before could confuse her with Azula or how he knew of her aunt in the first place.

The man speaks again, louder this time, “Azula! I’m so glad you came to visit. Have you heard what your brother has been doing?”. The man knew her father. Curiosity getting the best of her, Emi decides to play along and not reveal herself to the man. “No. What?,” she asks the man. He scowls as he begins ranting, “Your good-for-nothing brother has decided to completely destroy our bloodline. Not only did he marry that retched waterbender from the south pole, but now he has gotten her pregnant. Can you believe it? The heir to the throne, without the pure ivory skin of Fire Nation royalty. It is simply an abomination!”.

Emi didn’t know what to say to all that. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Clearly he was talking about her parents, and the “abomination” he was referring to could only be her. She had never in her life heard anything like this. “Wh-why is it an abomination? I mean, how would it reflect on him as a leader?,” she inquires, hoping to find out more.

The man cackles madly, “My child, Agni above has blessed our nation to be superior to all others. The Fire Nation is the greatest nation in the world and our bloodline is the purest in the land. Your brother tainting it with some tribal whore just proves that he doesn’t care about his country.”

Emi’s heart drops hearing those words. Did he just say Aunt Azula was his child? Is this man Dad and Aunt Azula’s dad?, her mind races. But, that’s impossible. Papa Iroh is dad’s dad. He’s my grandfather. Surely, daddy would never lie to me about something like that.

“I swear, the spirits are going to burn this nation to the ground and damn us all to the pits of hell for this disrespect to Agni… Either way, thar bastard child of his will always be half-water tribe. By that alone, our family tree will be tainted with impure blood. Agni help us all that child becomes fire lord. But, I suppose you already know that, Azula.”

Emi takes one step back, growing scared of this man. He continues to rant as the child slowly walks backwards, every word he says seeping into her brain and being internalized by the young, innocent soul.

“Don’t worry, soon enough you, my golden child, will take back the throne from your traitor of a brother and his snow-eating whore of a bride. I know you, Princess Azula. My little prodigy. You were born lucky, truly gifted in your abilities as a firebender. And once you finish the job from that Agni Kai, all other nations will fall and you and I will rule as supreme leaders of the world!”

The prisoner starts laughing like a mad man and that’s when Emi couldn’t bear to hear another word. She turns around and runs out of there as fast as she could. Thankfully, the man was so wrapped up in his own laughter and delusions that he didn’t notice. His deep, evil laughter echoing off the walls as she ran back through the narrow dirt pathway.

The princess felt an ache in her stomach as she began to run up the stairs. She felt the tears picking at the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall. She held it all in as she made it up to the top of the stairs and rushed over to the family wing of the palace. Even as servants called her name as she quickly passed, she didn’t answer. Finally, she made it back to her room, going in and slamming the door shut.

She takes a few deep breathes before her lips begins to quiver and her eyes water. Emi runs over to her bed and leaps forward, landing face-down onto the mattress. The now-terrified princess buries her face in her pillow as she begins to cry.

The Fire Nation’s innocent ray of sunshine had just seen the secret darkness of the world. And things would inevitably never be the same again.

Hope you guys liked this. If you want me to continue this and write a part 2, please let me know.

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Sugar Crash Void Bash: The Fanfic!

CWs: Childhood trauma mention, implied physical abuse, death mention, survivor's guilt, alcohol mention

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

Chapter Five: Mint Chip off the Ol' Block

chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8

Ramón shakes his head in disbelief as he reluctantly follows his fathers and Dio. Jonathan curiously tags along, to Dio’s dismay. Dio takes a parasol out of the umbrella holder near the front door,

“Oh, don’t you all worry about me.” He takes an intricate looking spray bottle from the small shelf near the door, spritzes the substance into the air, then walks through it. Suddenly his pale skin starts to glow for a brief moment, making a strange twinkling noise.

“Hmhmhm… that ought to do it. With a few sprays, it’s a bane to the sun’s rays!” Dio chuckles, leading the rest out of the door.

Outside

In the heat of the desert, the four gentlemen follow Dio. Tippy squints and uses Vanilla’s arm as a shield from the sun. Ramón looks around as they all continue following Dio to the courtyard. Up on the stone fence looks to be a figure with their arms crossed and back turned, ponytail blowing in the gentle wind. They all stop and look up at the figure, confused yet intrigued. Dio clears his throat and gestures with an open palm to the figure,

“This is the man I’d like you to meet.”

The man turns to the right, looking at the others with a smile. It’s difficult to see his face because of the sun’s direction. He slyly slides down the wall and jumps down in front of the others.

They all look at him, from the feet to the face. He has dark brown hair, he is wearing white pants with golden zippers, the pants seem to also be his boots, and he is shirtless. His chest, face, and arms are covered in faded scars. The man smirks and adjusts his eyepatch, looking directly at Ice,

“Hello, Ezekiel.” 

Without missing a beat, everyone snaps their head and turns to Vanilla. Vanilla’s eyes widen with shock and anger at hearing his birth name glide out of somebody’s mouth. The man approaches Ice with that same mischievous smirk, causing Tippy and Ramón to be on guard. He speaks,

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” 

Vanilla scoffs with offense,

“And who are you exactly?”

“I’m your evil twin…” The mysterious man speaks with a low growl and a menacing glare. 

A little bit of a tense and awkward silence fills the air. The man laughs and smacks his thigh,

“Nah, I’m just kidding!” He chuckles and pretends to wipe a tear from his eye patch, “But I am your cousin, Ezekiel.”

“Evil cousin?” Tippy tilts his head.

“Mmmm, no, just his regular cousin.” He stretches, making the rest of his scars more visible, “Well, morality is subjective, so I mean… I guess I could be evil to some people.”

Tippy nods, shrugs, and speaks,

“M’yeah…”

Vanilla gives Tippy a ‘really, dude?’ look, then turns back to the man.

“Oh shit, where are my manners? I’m Emmanuel Nemesis. It’s an acquaintance to meet your pleasure.” he says and puts his hands on his hips, “I’m so glad to finally meet you and your little family, Ezekiel.” Ice rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs with frustration,

“Please, by all means, call me ‘Vanilla Ice’ from now on, ‘Emmanuel Nemesis’.”

Emmanuel smiles and nods politely,

“Ah, and you can call me ‘Emi’. We can be Emi and Ice, how’s that?”

“Very well then.” Ice crosses his arms and gives him an annoyed glare. Dio steps in,

“He has been looking for you, Ice. I feel it is no coincidence that Emmanuel here has managed to make his way to the manor.” 

“Yup.” Emi crosses his arms and nods, “It took quite a lot of digging to find you, cousin. After ‘The Big Bloop’ happened, as they call it, things haven’t been so easy.” He sighs. Ice raises an eyebrow,

“No kidding.” 

“Now, when I had found out that I had a ‘long lost cousin’ who ‘mysteriously’ vanished, I was like,” Emi puts his hands flat, palms down, as if he is working a turntable, “Now this looks like a job for me, so everybody just follow me… and by ‘everybody’, I mean just myself… because well,” he rubs his neck again, “I’m… not exactly part of the family anymore either, cousin.” Ice gives Emmanuel a very perplexed look with a raised eyebrow,

“Anymore, huh?”

Dio chuckles and steps aside, twirling his parasol,

“Very well then. Perhaps we should let these two have a bit of privacy to get to know one another…” The blonde wipes his brow and fans himself with his hand, “I grow weary of the desert heat,” He turns and smiles at Ramón, “Besides, I feel that the boy would be interested in perusing my spellbooks, or perhaps investigating my artifacts.”

Ramón is very intimidated, especially when looking into Dio’s beastly amber eyes. 

Dio brings Ramón, Tippy, and Jonathan back into the mansion, leaving Ice and Emi in the courtyard.

Emi leans to the side and watches the others go through the entrance to the mansion. He smiles at Ice, rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, nonchalantly looks around,

“So–”

“Okay, *finger quotes* ‘Emmanuel Nemesis’,” Ice growls, “How do you know my birth name? Who are you really? How and why do you know so much about me?” Ice points his finger right in Emmauel’s face, causing the one-eyed man to recoil a bit. Emi blinks for a moment then sighs,

“Come take a walk with me, cousin.”

The shirtless man motions with his hand to his relative to follow him. Vanilla is hesitant… he leans in for a moment, then starts walking to follow his newfound relative. 

As the two gentlemen walk around the courtyard, Emi inhales,

“It wasn’t easy, but,” He looks to the stone fence, “I was able to track you down to the very last known location you were at.” Emi tightens his ponytail, “It took a lot of extra work, especially after ‘The Big Bloop’ had happened.”

“Mmh.” Ice nods, still quite skeptical and uncertain. Emi continues,

“Where do I even begin? I guess, heh, at the beginning.” he chuckles and looks at Vanilla’s very unamused expression. Emi rubs his neck and looks at the sky,

“None of us had an easy time. We all just… tried to survive, you know? Things got so shitty that your parents couldn’t even afford to take care of you.”

“So that’s it? They just up and abandoned me without even giving it a second thought? What about your family, Emmanuel? Why couldn’t they just have given me away to live with you all?” Ice shakes his head.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong!” Emi waves his hands around, “Nobody abandoned you!” He shakes his head, “Besides, living with me and my family would’ve been so much worse. My parents could hardly take care of my brother and me enough as it was.”

Ice looks to his lower left, absolutely nettled and frustrated, filled with more questions than answers. 

“Look, look…” Emi sighs and turns to face Ice, “They were good people, Ez– er, Ice. They were heartbroken. They had no other choice but to give you up. You wouldn’t have made it…”

Ice shakes his head, not making eye contact with Emi. My experience living in that hellhole wasn’t much better… I would’ve been better off– Ice’s thought stops. He realizes that if he had perished as an infant… he never would have met Tippy, fallen in love, and had a son. His expression changes from anger, to realization. 

Emmanuel awkwardly fidgets around from the uncomfortable silence. He rotates his left golden arm bracelet around,

“My upbringing wasn’t all that perfect either.”

Vanilla looks down at Emi, curious about what his story is.

“The thing is, my parents didn’t exactly care about what happened to me. It was obvious that they favored my little brother over me and, heh, honestly,” He rubs his neck, “So did I.”

The two men walk side by side parallel to the stone fence. Emi puts his hands in his pockets and looks at Vanilla’s tights, which are sparkling in the sunlight. He makes eye contact with Ice for a brief moment before looking straight ahead,

“I guess, uh… everything went even more downhill after what happened to my brother.”

“What happened to your brother?” Vanilla asks. Emi continues walking and looking straight ahead, staying silent for a few moments. He leaps up onto the wall, bouncing off of it for fun, then lands back onto the ground. He’s a little bit further ahead from Ice. He stops, back turned to Ice and head hanging,

“It was my fault.”

Emi shakes his head slowly,

“We snuck out late at night with some friends as teenagers, probably around Ramón’s age. We’d get into trouble a lot. Admittedly, our friends weren’t exactly the best of people.” He looks up at the sky, then back to the ground, “My brother and I, and those ‘friends’ of ours, were out drinking one night. It was preventable. I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve done something.”

Ice leans in, hesitantly making his way over to Emmanuel. He curiously and cautiously listens. Emi continues, lowering his gaze even further with a despondent sigh,

“My little brother climbed up a building. I knew deep within myself that something bad was going to happen. I watched him climb the building drunkenly as our friends cheered him on.” Emi swallows, “He lost his grip…”

It’s clear to Ice that Emi is remembering every glaring moment of that experience. The painstricken guilt glistens in Emmanuel’s dark brown, almost black, eye.

“Landed on his head, snapped his neck like a twig… killed him instantly.” Emi makes a neck-cutting motion then turns to Vanilla’s direction, not looking at him, but letting him know that he knows Ice is still there, “The rest ran away like a bunch of cowards, while I tried in vain to resuscitate my baby brother in a drunken stupor. It was hopeless.” Vanilla is unsure what to say. Emi continues,

“My negligence was the death of my brother. My family already didn’t like me very much to begin with. I– heh, I wasn’t even supposed to be born, you know that?” Emi gives Ice a very weak smile, clearly hanging on by a thread, “After his death… our father…” he lightly touches his eye patch as he recounts the agonizing memories, “... told me to leave and never come back. So, for most of my life I’ve been quite literally living in the shadows with my stand, Slick Shadow.”

Ice’s cousin reveals his stand. Slick Shadow is a sleek, long black entity that appears to glisten blue and drip. He has a pointy mohawk, long pointy elf-like ears with thick purple hoop earrings. Slick wears large pointy sunglasses and has a perpetual fang-filled grin on his face. Slick leans his elbow up against Emi’s shoulder and gives Ice a short nod.

Ice nods back and makes eye contact with his cousin,

“I see. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Bah, don’t worry about it, cous’.” Emi puts his hands on his hip and smiles warmly, his smile lines folding around the corners of his mouth.

“So… how exactly did you manage to track me down?”

“That’s the interesting part, cousin.” Emi starts sauntering back over to the front yard,

“Back in the day, I couldn’t just ‘look things up’ on the ‘internet’. After many years of living alone in the shadows, without any family to lean on, I remembered that you still existed… most likely.” Emi skips around and leans up against the stone fence, “It took a while, but I found your records in that strange place, which is still up and running today. You’d assume it’d be dilapidated, but honestly, it looks way better than it did back in the day.” Emi inhales and pops his neck,

“But, yeah. Managed to find your records, still alive, presumably. Never adopted, and last known location…” He taps his temple then points to the mansion. 

Ice turns to look at Dio’s mansion, then back into Emmanuel’s eye. Emi sighs and proceeds,

“I know what you’re thinking. That still hardly answers any questions. I’ve been looking for you for years.” 

“When did you start working for L– for Dio?” Vanilla asks, putting his hands on his hips, unknowingly mirroring Emi’s body language. 

“It’s… complicated,” Emi rubs his neck and looks to the side, “I didn’t intend to work for him in the first place. I just wanted to find you. I wanted to ask him questions and just figure everything out.”

“Ah…” Ice twirls his left bang with his finger, fidgeting, and squinting his eyes, “So he offered you a handsome amount of money, hm? Is this… ‘mystery enemy stand user’ involved?”

“Well, to put it succinctly; yes.” Emi confirms, “It’s strange… it’s like that person just awakened and suddenly decided to start attacking Dio. It’s unclear what they want exactly, but my money’s on overthrowing Dio and taking his treasure.”

“Hm,” Ice narrows his eyes, “That sounds about right.” He shakes his head, thinking deeply about something. Emi is about to say something, but suddenly a little bell starts ringing.

Tlinglingling tlinglingling

Vanilla instinctively follows the sound. Emmanuel raises an eyebrow and curiously follows his cousin.

Back in the mansion

When Ice and Emi make their way back inside the residence to meet up with the rest of the group, Dio sets down the bell and laughs,

“See?” the vampire turns to Ramón, “I told you that your papa would come running!”

A wave of shameful heat flushes across Vanilla’s face when he hears the words falling out of Dio’s mouth. Things get even worse when the blonde continues speaking,

“Yes, yes, your papa used to be my most loyal of servants. He was my right hand man for many years,” He chuckles with a toothy grin, “He would do quite literally anything I had told him to, without question… no matter how humiliating or degrading it was. Ice was always the most obedient man.”

Ramón thinks highly of his fathers and never thought that somebody like his papa would do anything like that. Tippy gives Vanilla a very apologetic look to zeir husband, who is refusing to make eye contact with any of those in the room. Dio clears his throat and moves closer to Vanilla, looking up at him,

“Now then. I need you to train your son to use his stand– oh what was he called again, boy?”

“U-uh, Sugar Crash.” Ramón awkwardly fidgets with his pink curly hair.

“Ah, yes. Ice, I need you to train your son to use Sugar Crash,” Dio leans up, getting even closer to him, “I sense great potential in him. Watch how your child uses his stand, see what can be improved.”

A few hours later

Jonathan, Emmanuel, and Tippy are in Dio’s new spell room. Jonathan is flipping through one of the spellbooks while speaking to the other two gentlemen,

“–and the best way to describe that feeling would be what Tippy had told me, ‘phantom limb syndrome’.” He turns his head to Emmanuel, “Every now and then, I could feel when Dio walked. I would feel my legs and arms moving out of their own volition.”

“Huh,” Emi nods slowly then tightens his ponytail while facing Tippy, “This just gets freakier and freakier, doesn’t it, my friend?” He lets out a hearty laugh. Jonathan chuckles lightly and inhales,

“Yes, indeed,” He closes the book and puts it back where he found it, “It’s quite amusing. You may have noticed that he, Dio, still has the uh…” Jonathan pulls down his top, revealing his star shaped birthmark, “Er… ‘Joe-star’ as we call it.”

“Why is that, Jonny?” Tippy sits on the desk, lightly swinging his legs.

“To put it bluntly, I suppose that is my doing. In my heart, I feel that Dio, no matter what, will always be part of my family.” Jonathan speaks. The doorway is filled with a figure,

“Oh good,” Dio says while holding a book, “You’re all in here. Jojo, are you making sure these two don’t get into trouble?” He smirks.

“They’re doing fine, dear brother. I was simply telling the tale of how I got my body back.” Jonathan says.

“Hmhm, yes yes, what a fun story.” Dio waves his hand around dismissively, “Now then… Gratuity, darling. Do you recognize this spell book?” Dio says, holding the book up with a raised eyebrow and a sly grin.

“Hm? Yeah, it’s, uh… oh, it’s the same book we used to give you both your bodies back.” Tippy says.

“Indeed… now then,” Dio flips through the pages, “This is something you might fondly recall…” 

Tippy reads it and is surprised, 

“This is the… fusion spell. You- wait, you want Vans and I to–”

“Fuse together and combine your stand powers again. Yes. I would like that very much.” Dio quickly closes the book shut with one hand.

“But, Mr Dio… we only did that one time. I-I mean it was amazing but… but that stand…”

“Oh, fret not, Gratuity. We shall cross that bridge when the time comes. Hmhm…” Dio sets the book down on the desk, “I sense an intense power in that child of yours. But he doesn’t know what he’s doing just yet. Your husband is training him as we speak.” 

“Hmhmhm… Oh… and do you remember? Around, oh say… 16 or so years ago, you and Ice retrieved some ‘things’ for me. Hmhm, you were always such a curious one.” Dio tells zem, “I suppose now is as good a time as any to explain myself, hm? What do you see here?” Dio shows Tippy a strange object. It looks like a small table with a floating orb of some sort surrounded by rounded spikes, directed to the bottom of the sphere.

“It’s like a… some kinda magic sphere or something?” Tippy says with a head tilt.

“That's a crystal ball!” Emi says while pointing a finger.

“Close… well– Emmanuel got it. This here is one of the many things that were owed to me.” Dio tells them, 

“This mystical object has the ability to search for and find anyone in the world. So long as you have a sliver of DNA.” Dio touches the crystal ball and it wobbles a bit, 

“For instance, if I want to find any more of Jojo’s descendants, all I have to do is pluck a hair from his head, speak to the crystal ball, do a little dance, chant some magic words, and the one I seek will appear as a moving image in the orb.” Dio pulls a strand of Jonathan’s hair, making the bearded man wince, “Observe!”

“You mean orb-serve? Jinx!” Tippy and Emi say at the same time. Dio rolls his eyes, places the hair underneath the orb where it is completely obliterated. Dio closes his eyes and holds the small spellbook, “Hm, now let’s see.” He takes out some small glasses and squints at the book, “Dadada daaaa… mhm… okay. Very well.” He clears his throat,

“MU NITAL PRATS!

Nu geb sah y’rots eht rof nur ret teb e car ret teb,”

The orb starts glowing,

“E’nod s’yrots eht lit nu tuo g’nin nur si emit.

Reh sinif eht rof g’nit iaw ylno ma I,”

The orb starts rotating, faster and faster,

“S’reda surc pots re ven llits yeht g’nith gif!”

Dio places his hand on the top of the orb, “Show me any living descendant from the one I plucked!”

Suddenly, a flash of white light glows from the orb, making everyone cover their eyes. On the orb’s image is Josuke Higashikata sitting down in a restaurant with Okuyasu Nijimura, they’re both laughing and eating. The orb zooms in on Josuke. Josuke laughs then gets a weird and concerned look,

“Hey, Oku, you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“Oh yeah. All the time, Josuke!” Okuyasu says before putting a forkful of pasta in his mouth. Dio chuckles and touches the orb to release the image.

“Dear brother, what could you possibly want to do with such an object now?” Jonathan asks.

“You never know when I might need to find somebody or one who is related to them. For instance…” Dio walks around, “Him. The reason we’re all here in the first place. If I could just find a shred, no, even a speck of DNA from that lowlife bastard, then we’d be able to pinpoint his location and put an end to this.” Dio places the spellbook he walked in with, on top of Tippy’s head,

“He’s been in this mansion before. There’s bound to be some trace of his DNA here somewhere,” Dio sighs and sashays to another bookshelf, “But I would be wasting my time scouring every centimeter of this mansion. So we will have to find another way to lure him somehow.” The blonde swipes his finger on the shelf and pinches the dust on it,

“Be careful though, that stand of his is highly malicious. That sneaky little bastard will invite himself over, no doubt sometime soon, in an attempt to off me yet again.”

Suddenly the realization hits Tippy. Ramón is going to be involved in all of this… and he will also have to fight using his stand. Zeir husband is training Ramón as they speak. It’s too late to do anything about it now… besides, Ramón is a strong boy. We can get through this as a family. Ze thinks to zeirself.

The vampire puts his hand up, black talons glinting in the candlelight,

“However, he never stays for long. He eventually flees and runs off swiftly into the night. I can never pinpoint the direction he goes, it’s like he vanishes into thin air.” Before anyone can speak, Dio continues,

“Oh, and it’s not just his stand you need to worry about. He possesses something that he stole from me. An accursed object rests on that filthy, thieving head of his, bestowing upon him an ancient evil power, not even I, Dio, desired to mess with.” 

The other three fellows wait patiently for Dio to finish his monologue. Emmanuel gets a determined look in his eye,

“A cursed object, you say? Tsk tsk, sounds like serious bad news. But you know what?” He looks down at Tippy, “I’m not afraid,” He looks to Jonathan, “To take a stand,” he playfully holds his hand out to Tippy, “Come take my hand, we’ll walk this road together.” Tippy giggles and playfully holds Emi’s hand.

Dio sighs and slides his hand down the side of his face with exasperation, 

“Oh, brother…”

That night, dinner time

Emmanuel and Tippy are laughing and joking at the dinner table, this makes Ice a little ill with jealousy. He nonchalantly lays his palm on the top of his husband’s hand, signifying that Tippy is, indeed, taken. Emmanuel notices this and respectfully scoots away from Tippy, not so much that  it’s offensive, but enough to be noticeable,

“Like, uh, like I was saying. That may have been one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen so far.” Emi clears his throat and gestures with his hand to Vanilla,

“What about you, cous’? Do you have any stories you’d like to share?” He smiles politely. Dio chuckles and holds up his empty wine glass for Jonathan to fill it. Jonathan rolls his eyes, lightly shakes his head, and fills the glass. He goes around the table to fill the others’ glasses. As Ice thinks and recalls a little story from his time working under Dio’s rule, Ramón’s wine glass is filled. This confuses him, he looks up at Jonathan,

“Huh? W-wait, I-I’m 15, Mr Jojo!”

“Oh? Do you not want any wine?” The blue bearded man chuckles.

“U-uh… uh…” He looks over at his fathers and Emmanuel, they seem to not be paying attention. Ramón purses his lips and looks at the filled glass with burning curiosity. He tries to look cool and mature,

“I mean uh… thank you, my good man. I will gladly partake in this fine wine.” Ramón takes a very tiny sip, gags and coughs a little bit. Jonathan shakes his head with a warm smile and takes the glass away from him,

“I’ll go get you some sparkling grape juice, lad.”

Ramón coughs and drinks some of his water, heart racing, oh no, I’m drunk. I’m drunk. I’m gonna be in so much trouble. Just act natural, Ramón. The teenager is in fact, not drunk at all.

Ice is telling Emmanuel a memory he has,

“I looked into his eyes while we were in the void, I felt that tickly feeling in my belly–”

“Love.” Emi smiles and gives a knowing nod, “You felt love, cousin. I can see it by the way you look at your partner.” Tippy softly hums and rubs his cheek up against Ice’s bicep. Ice chuckles and kisses the top of his husband’s head,

“You’re right about that, Emmanuel.”

Ramón’s eyes are wide and he is looking off in the distance, his fist up to his mouth. Dio notices this and raises an eyebrow,

“Are you alright, boy?”

Everyone turns to Ramón, who’s face heats up immensely from being called out. He grins,

“Yeah, uh… uh… Just trying to take in– take everything in about being a… fish out of water, you know?”

“Ohohoho, you’ll adjust, dear boy, you’ll adjust.” Dio chuckles. The blonde vampire takes a sip of wine and turns to Ice, “How did training the boy go, Ice?”

“Quite well.” He tells Dio.

“Is that so? Hm…” Dio nonchalantly taps his cheek with his black talon, “That’s not what I heard.” Ice’s jaw tenses and Ramón chuckles nervously. Vanilla sighs and looks to his lower left,

“Admittedly, my son has been having a difficult time controlling his stand. However, this is not unusual, especially for somebody his age. He has only had his stand for little over a year and a half.”

“Mmh. I see.” Dio’s eyes are half lidded and he looks away from Ice. The air is tense. 

After Dinner

Emmanuel is leaning up against the wall outside of one of the library rooms, relaxing with his arms crossed. Ramón notices this behavior is also present in his papa. Shyly, the teen approaches Emi. Emmanuel looks over, facing Ramón so he can see him better, giving him a welcoming smile,

“Hey there, young man.”

“Hey,” Ramón waves at Emi, “So uh… you’re my papa’s cousin, huh?”

“That’s right.” Emi nods, “And that means I’m your second cousin, twice removed.” he puts his finger to his chin and thinks, or… is it once removed?

“Wow.” Ramón’s big brown eyes widen at Emi, “What in the world did you do to get removed from the family twice?!” To that, Emmanuel belly laughs,

“Oh yeah. I did something so awful that they had to remove me from the family multiple times! Ahaha, but they just couldn’t get rid of me.” He playfully pats Ramón’s back. The teen chuckles nervously.

“I’m just messing with you, kid.” Emi laughs and looks down at Ramón. The teen looks at him right in the eye, making Emi smile and tilt his head,

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look just like your papa.”

“Tch, well it’s a good thing you do know better.” Ramón crosses his arms and leans his back up against the wall as well, “Everyone keeps comparing me to him. I’m nothing like Vanilla. Let alone look like him.”

“Ah,” Emi lightly scratches under the strap of his eyepatch, a little uncomfortable at the moment, “I mean, I can definitely see the resemblance, personally. Though, it could just be the fact that you’ve adopted some of his mannerisms, but eh,” He shrugs, “What do I know?” Emi smirks. Ramón pouts and turns away. Emmanuel sighs with contentment, leaning his bare back up against the cool wall. A few moments of silence pass as the two family members lean back together. Ramón looks up at Emi curiously, he puts his finger up about to say something, which catches the attention of Emmanuel. Ramón closes his mouth and mumbles,

“Nevermind.” 

Emi chuckles and crosses his arms, speaking sweetly and with understanding,

“It’s about the eye, isn’t it?” Ramón’s cheeks heat up,

“N-no! No, I wasn’t gonna–...” Emmanuel laughs and rotates one of his golden arm bracelets,

“It’s alright, boy. It’s normal to be curious.”

Ramón nods and looks up at his second cousin,

“O-okay… so,” the teen rubs the back of his head, making the pink curls bounce a little, “What happened exactly? How did you lose your eye?”

“Hmhm,” Emi looks at the wall parallel to the one that they are both leaning on, “I brought my fists to a knife fight. It got damaged so badly that I had to get it surgically removed.” He looks over and smiles at Ramón, "That same, uh... fight, is how I got most of my scars. The man was tough, but I was tougher. After all, I lived, didn't I?"

“Whoa.” Ramón looks bewildered at Emi, “You didn’t use your stand to defend yourself?”

Emmanuel shrugs,

“Didn’t have him at the time. In fact… I actually developed Slick Shadow a few weeks later, funnily enough.” 

“Oh dang. That’s unfortunate.” Ramón grimaces, imagining how awful it must’ve been.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, boy. As much as these scars serve as a reminder of the pain I've endured... They're also a reminder of how much I've overcome.” Emi stretches and pops his back a little, “Unngh… It’s all in the past now.” He pulls out his phone from his pants’ pocket, “It’s getting pretty late, eh? Way past your bedtime, huh?”

“Hey!” Ramón puts his hands on his hips. Emi gives a hearty laugh and begins walking down the hallway, gesturing for Ramón to follow. Ramón obeys and follows behind his second cousin. Emi walks the teen back to his room,

“Get a good night’s rest, kid.”

Ramón opens the door and steps inside, turns around and looks up at Emmanuel,

“Yeah. Uh, it was nice talking with you, Em.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Emmanuel grins cordially. The way he smiles reminds Ramón of his papa, “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“You have a good pops, you know that? I’ve only known Ezekiel for a short time now, but… He loves you, Ramón. He’s a good father.” Emi nods, “There aren’t many fathers who would put forth the amount of effort for his kid that Ezekiel does. Tip too. I know, I know, it’s embarrassing, but…” Emi looks over his shoulder then back to the teenager, “He really does care about you and your dad. Cherish that, Ramón. Love every moment you have with the papa you have.” Emi chuckles softly then waves goodnight to the young boy. 

Ramón’s brows are frowned and he watches his second cousin leave. With a sigh, he closes the bedroom door. The teen gets into his pajamas and falls face first onto his bed, groaning into his pillow. He lays on his back, inhales and sighs,

“Maybe Emi’s right…” He remembers so many fond and loving memories he had with his papa. Vanilla was always the first one to come running when Ramón started crying. Vanilla held him, rocked him to sleep, and sacrificed so much of his own comfort for his son. His dad, Tippy, was there too, any chance he wasn’t at work. His fathers love him dearly. 

Ramón chuckles at a memory in particular where he was a toddler, holding both of his fathers’ hands while they walked to the grocery store. He pulled both legs up off the ground, and his fathers lifted him up off the ground for a few moments. Ramón smiles to himself, but that smile fades… that time is over now.

He rolls over on his side and sighs softly. He has so many wonderful memories with both of his parents, but his need for independence can overpower the desire for their affections. While Tippy is more understanding of Ramón’s phases, Vanilla is very concerned and wants to constantly be involved. The teen very much craves freedom, but having one parent who’s very lenient and the other who’s very strict, things can get rather confusing. 

Ramón curls up in on himself and remembers how much Vanilla would hug him and kiss his cheeks and forehead. He likes the affection from his fathers, but not in front of others. Ramón misses how much Vanilla would hug him, pick him up and carry him around, play toys with him, and even fall asleep on the couch together. Tippy would give him hugs, carry him around, and ruffle his hair, but ze very much respects zeir son’s personal space. Tippy would allow Ramón to approach zem for affection first, rather than the other way around. 

He tries to shake away the feeling of wanting his papa for comfort. Ramón sighs and puts on a tough face, along with an equally tough attitude.

The pink haired teen stretches, turns off the light and crawls back into bed… where he scrolls on his phone for the next few hours, until he ultimately falls asleep.

To be continued…

[aikrus]

Don’t Let Me Fall (Too Far From Grace)

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cw: Major religious trauma for Y/n, enjoy. Swears, violence, cults, misogyny, self-mutilation, public abuse, parental abuse, attempted murder, self-defense, poison

A/n: a short glimpse into the makings of dadzawa; with an angsty Y/n religious quirk struggle

 summary: There’s a part of Shouta that hates his job. While he can handle the annoying brats, unstable quirks, rude comments, life-threatening danger, and annoying hours, there’s just some things not even Shouta could tolerate.  There’s a girl in his class. She’s nice but a little too quiet for it to sit right. He’s a teacher, been one for years and was a hero for much longer-- He knows the signs when he sees them.

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“Brother Haruka,”

“Father Y/l/n; it’s always a pleasure.” Clasped forearms greeted one another, eye to eye they examined the other. Smiles filled each room and yet the tension was so thick, thick, thick; she looked to her mother but found a void in her place.

It crept into Y/n’s throat like sludge, chocking on the breath that filled her lungs as she swallowed for the fiftieth time that service. The eyes that followed, the eyes that glared, the eyes that widened, all at her, at her, at her. She kept her head down. 

The family of five- a strong pastor father, the beautiful but sickly motherly wife, the silent eldest son, and the perfect youngest daughter. And Y/n, lost somewhere in the mess of facades they seemed to exchange so rapidly.

Or maybe lost was the wrong word, seeing as everyone could find her, the daughter of the pastor, the picture-perfect symbol of what they stood for, quirkless, pure, devine; up until four months ago. 

Four months ago, when her world changed.

1-A kept a keen eye on Y/n, her silent passing and downcast eyes demanded attention from the rowdy bunch, but it was her appearance that caught them off guard the most. 

Denki had asked about them once, resulting in a panic attack and mute classmate which lasted a week before she would speak in a quiet, fragile tone. It got worse before it got better. 

She could feel them-- the eyes, eyes, eyes. Following her, ridiculing her, judging her. It broke Shouta’s heart.

“She’s just a girl, our little girl,”

“It’s a heathen!”

“She’s done nothing wrong,”

“It’s got horns god bless me!”

“Dear, she’s still our Y/n, our little angel,”

Her knees were pulled to her chest, listening silently at the top of the stairs to the hushed and not so hidden argument of her parents. Y/n’s father damning her, and her mom, desperately trying to cling to her life.

“That thing’s no angel-- it’s the devil.”

“What are you doing out here, kid?”  Aizawa cringed inside watching the girls entire body stiffen. 

“I’m sorry sir, I'll go back inside.” Her wide eyes became fixed on the floor, shoulders slouched but still full of twisted anxiety.

“You’re not in trouble, Y/l/n.”

“I’m not?” Her face stayed down, but she was finally looking directly at him, so Shouta counted this as a win.

“No,” he walked to the railing she had previously been leaning against, “There’s no rules against being on the rooftop. I just thought you might get cold.” He gestured to her head when he said that, causing her to flinch softly.

“I see.”

She still scurried away, leaving the concerned teacher by himself on the rooftop.

The horns that began to grew from the front corners of Y/n’s skull had been easily hideable when she noticed the growths. She teased her hair, wore headbands, dawned a head-scarf for modesty, but then her sister accidentally pulled it off her head during dinner, exposing them to the entire family. 

That was the first night Emi had crawled into Y/n’s bed and cried since she was six and saw her big sister be punished for the first time. Punished. 

The Shinja were many things, devote, united, pure, and forgiving. They believed in one thing above all else, God’s eternal and limitless magnanimity. For a sin their must be penitence, must be a beg for forgiveness. 

For Y/n, this meant one thing.

It started small, Y/n found a scarf waiting for her on the railing when she made her way to the roof that night. It was nice, it was warm; something Y/n struggled with being. 

Then Aizawa would stop by when it turned past midnight, sending the quiet girl back inside to stop her from catching a cold. And now, they coexist.

“Was--” she paused before shaking her head, looking back out to the grounds behind UA. 

“What is it, kid?” He paused for an answer before breaking, “You can ask questions you know.”

“Was Iida right?”

Silence. 

“That’s really up to you. At the end of the day, you decide what kind of hero you want to be. Your hero uniform is a big part of that identity, so if you think that’s a necessary part of that then you should keep it.”

Y/n played with the delicate silver cross dangling from the chain across her neck before looking up to the sky, just like Aizawa saw her do earlier during class.

“Kay.”

The conversation from the classroom had been a tense one to say the least. Iida, in his self-correct but oblivious way, asked the quiet girl, “Don’t you think it may be offensive to wear a cross as part of your hero costume? Won’t people feel imposed upon? Besides, very few people are catholic after the development of the quirk gene. Would it not, perhaps, be a better choice to remove that aspect from your uniform?”

Y/n had, at the time, only responded briefly, “Why would people be offended by a necklace?”  Everyone looked up to the mounds above her head. No one said a thing. 

A few days later he finally broke, “It was surprising I suppose. Not like I care, but people aren’t really religious anymore.”

She tried not to think about it, and she continued to try not to think about it long after she had left the rooftop. People aren't really religious anymore. Y/n tried to think through what makes a religion a religion, where things started to turn after quirks were made. Some religions embraced them as a new moral test of god, others claimed it disproved God entirely. Some drew strange connections claiming the bible predicted it all along.

Y/n is sitting in her room when it happens. She's absent-mindedly rolling her silver cross necklace between her fingers while ignoring her homework when she things- it would be so much easier if I wasn't religious anymore.

It felt dirty, like a dangerous secret. What does it mean to be religious on a personal level? She isn't allowed on the campound, let alone in the church. She doesn't read the scripture any more, nor does she pray genuinely. After a few cafeteria visits with Kaminari keeping her company she's even began to speak the lord's name in vain. Yet Y/n is so sure, in her heart and center of everything, that there is spirit within her.

She thinks about the religion she learned about the first time someone called her hometown a cult. She googled what the word meant and learned about a different group, a group that drank poison and passed away as a whole. Y/n can't think of another species that would do that and thinks they must have spirit.

The eyes from the pews followed her as she walked, head bowed as she pushed forward, past every person she ever knew, towards her father. Her father who forgave her, who actually forgave her. Forgave her monstrous appearance, was willing to look past the disgusting curse she had. She loves her father. So she kneeled willingly before the cross and bowed her head fifty times before turning on her knees towards her father.

A hush fell over the chapel.

She accepted the holy blade from her father.

She lifted it above her head. 

The scream echoed through the room, bounding back towards her from the walls it landed on. The blade moved back and forth, until her world became deathly still.

Her father placed his hand upon her head, gently ending the assault. “You’re doing well, my child.” Each following day was ended with her in the privacy of her family's bunker, penance following shortly after. 

She was repenting for her sins, but there was a silent acknowledgment among everyone. For Y/n, who never stopped sinning, there must be constant repentance. Nothing short of unyielding devotion. The days blurred together, so did her memory. 

Y/n looked up at the board, eyes coated with gloss and filled to the brim with pain, pain, misery. ‘Quirkless Study.’ A lesson on discrimination, of differences, of acceptance. Forty seven minutes of something she’d kill to get out of-- something she’d die to get out of. 

The class wasn’t today, thank God, but it was soon. Soon, being tomorrow. Tomorrow, class, quirkless, pure thing, stuck, school, mistake, thing, thing, thing. Words echoed through her head, too fast for Y/n too pick them apart, too fast to be remembered, just fast enough to hurt. 

Y/n stayed on the roof from after school to midnight, far too long in the cold, too long without eating, too long for no body to have noticed.

“Fucking hell, kid. Why are you out here?”

Aizawa-Sensai dropped in and wrapped his scarf around Y/n’s shaking body, noting both the absent look in her eyes and the festering fear lying just beneath the surface.

"Y/l/n? Are you with me?"

What a silly question. Of course she was with him, they're on the same rooftop– he's got a hand lying gently on her shoulder.

"Because you seem a little far away."

And didn't that make so much sense. Because they were right next to each other, much like how her dad was right in front of her, yet both of them were miles away from where Y/n was.

"I'm sorry, sensei."

He froze, "it's Allright, Y/n, it's going to be okay."

The need to gasp for air clued her in that she'd started to cry. The warm tears burned her frigid skin.

"Hey, hey," Aizawas voice rumbled deep in his chest, "careful there." He tapped her knuckles which had turned white with the force she had been digging her nails into her arms.

"I don't want to go to school tommorow."

She winced but he didn't answer her. Saying the words out loud felt different than the mantra from her head. It all seems a little silly now. Y/n wanted to be a hero after all, and here she was; scared to go to class.

The man leveled his eyes with her and sighed, raising a hand between her two curled horns and patting the top of her head.

"It's not silly, Y/n."

She wrinkled her nose at him, unsure of his meaning and was floored when he began to laugh. "You mutter, but that's okay. You don't have to be a hero yet; not today and not tomorrow. For now you are still a child, and you deserve to feel the safety that should come with that."

It felt odd, to feel so cold you want to shiver and yet melt from the inside out. Maybe, maybe that was true. Maybe she will be a hero in a few years, maybe less. But tonight she wasn't, tonight she could feel as little as that sentence made her. Small and safe, so fucking fragile but perfectly protected.

It made her want to cry.

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and there we have it. I know it's a little random but I feel like sometimes we carry the weight of lifetimes with us and forget how young we are in the grand scheme of things. It's okay. We'll figure this out together.

[lucawrites11]

Can you tell us how it went when Lucy and Keira went to Evie’s school after the family tree fiasco?

lucy and keira were both there for drop-off the next time she went in. ona took evie in to see her teacher and explain everything briefly while keira and lucy marched into the headteacher's office. he wasn't there and they both went to look for him splitting in seperate directions. unfortunately, it was lucy that found him in the playground with all the other patients and in perfect view of the window into evie's classroom.

lucy essentially yelled across the playground before she even reached him, "did you know you have homophobic teachers who seem to find it fun making my child cry?" it got a LOT of attention from other parents

"I don't know what you're talking about," the principal stuttered and lucy scoffed, she looked very intimidating in her barca training gear with her muscles on show

lucy then continued to yell to catch him up, the substitute for emy's class who refused to recognise their non-nuclear family tree or her other mum

the principal then, instead of apologising, said that the the substitute wasn't wrong and to say lucy lost it would be an understatement. she called him an idiot, stupid, brain dead, homophobic and other things before keira and ona ran out onto the playground and stopped her. evie was giggling inside the classroom, the teacher was trying to distract them but she could hear everything.

keira got there first while the headteacher was shouting that lucy was banned from the school. keira figured it wasn't worth them both getting banned and she and ona took lucy out. they were all pissed off, it just showed less. the three of them spend the drive to training ranting to no one about the teachers. ona had the only good experience with evie's normal teacher but still ranted in catalan when lucy explained what was said, they were all quite violent in training that day

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight II Chapter Five

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3557

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“I'm telling you, this is weird.” Okumura said as you were returning from the Red Light District. 

“You mean, only two people were even aware that Jun Takenaka had fallen victim to someone?” 

“What else? I know they had an informant that we might show up, but…” The man shook his head. “Who the hell is Ko-chan? Anyway, it doesn't matter. We need to focus on finding... Finding out Uncle Shou's identity. Were you also told that he was someone influential?” 

“Yes.” You said, feeling tense. It seemed that your partner didn't suspect anything of your sister, or at least that was the impression he gave, and you didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. One thing was for sure, you had to be careful at every step from now on and warn Tomoko herself. Shinji Okumura liked entertainment and often talked about it, but he was no fool. “Influential enough to get Nagasawa's sentence shortened.” 

“I hope it's not a prosecutor.” He grumbled, dissatisfied. “I'm not going to chase tails like a dog.” 

“We're dogs.” You pursed your lips and the man gave you a long look, then let out a short laugh. 

“L/n, oh, come on...” 

“Y/n... Are you listening, honey?” You blinked a few times when you saw Emi's troubled face in front of you. 

“I'm sorry...” You blushed, lifting the cup of coffee to your lips, only to find it empty. “Oh my god, I was lost in thought...” 

“No problem. Can I make you some tea?” 

“Yes, please.” She took the cup from your hands and you watched her go to the sink. “Where did we end our conversation?” 

“We did end?” She gave you an amused look, although there was still concern in them. 

“You mentioned that you and your friends had arranged to go to the hair salon, to the beautician for nails, and...” You scratched your head. “You have plans to celebrate your new friend Jenny's birthday at some club, right?” 

“Oh my god, Y/n...” The woman turned to you, wiping your mug with a cloth. Her eyes were wide and she looked even more worried than before. “That was over an hour ago. After that, I told you about a lot of other things, including what's being discussed in the lab... Maybe I should cancel...” 

“No, no. Everything's fine.” You protested quickly and smiled apologetically. “Everything's fine. I was just wondering about the latest case...” 

“The young guy with the slit throat?” She asked as she put the water on to boil. 

“Yes, Junko Yoshioka.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I meant Jun Takenaka.” You corrected yourself and Emi showed you two bags of loose tea so you could choose which one you wanted. You pointed to one and the woman made a portion for two cups. “Not everyone knew him from both sides…” 

“I see. Mimiko also mentioned today that Shinji spent a few hours in front of the computer, working on the latest facts you’ve managed to find out.” 

“We haven’t found much.” You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back slightly. “Is she sure her beloved husband was working instead of spending time entertaining himself?” 

“Y/n.” 

You looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if we should visit them. You know, bring them something to eat and stuff like that…” 

“Mimiko has her hands full, you know.” 

“Yeah, but still... Just a little friendly get-together…” 

“You’re cute, but I’ll pass.” The woman laughed shortly. “It’s a bit too crowded for me.” 

You looked at her carefully. She had her back to you and you could see from her shoulders that she didn't seem tense. She didn't mind going to crowded nightclubs, but visiting her friends at their house, not even a small apartment, but a house with a pretty decent square footage, was too much. You knew where the problem was and your heart lurched again. Emi avoided going to places where there was more than one child, and Mimiko was pregnant with another. 

"So, when are you meeting your friends?" You asked, completely ignoring her hypocrisy. 

"We have Friday off, so..." 

"Okay." You smiled at her when she turned around and winked at her. "In that case, I'll grab a case of beer, a pot of curry and visit them myself." 

Emi stared at you for a moment, as if pondering something, but smiled brightly at you and nodded. 

“Just don’t drink too much, because I also planned to spend the night with you.” 

You pursed your lips slightly, knowing perfectly well what she meant, and cleared your throat once. You straightened up in your chair and smoothed down the legs of your pants. 

“You can be sure I'll be back on time, my dear.” You replied, and as soon as the woman placed the ready tea in front of you, you gently took her hand in yours and brought it to your lips, placing a soft kiss on her skin. “You can be sure I'll even be more sober than drunk, unlike the previous meetings with Okumura after work.” 

“Thank you and I'll hold you to your word.” The other laughed, stroking your face. “Because this time I have no intention of watching over you with a bowl.” 

“Cruel, evil and mean. Zero empathy and compassion.” You grumbled and the woman kissed the top of your head. 

“I love you too.” She said in a gentle tone and picked up her mug before heading to the living room where she was going to watch TV for a while before getting ready for bed. “Don’t work too long.” 

“I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try.” You replied, staying in the kitchen to sit in peace for a while longer before you tried to get another headache from analyzing the facts and information you had, not only about Junko’s case, but also refreshing what you had on your computer about Yuji. 

You were still holding back from looking through the new photos and recordings of Sanzu that Tomoko had given you. Sure, you looked at the files, but you didn’t delve into them as much as you had done so far. 

A thought popped into your head. What if, among the short recordings, you came across at least snippets of a conversation about something that could at least slightly steer you in the right direction? But maybe Bonten knew something about those few strange murders that only looked like they were responsible? 

Yes, you and Okumura had reviewed the files of the still open cases involving the murders of women who were involved in sex work and discovered that several of them looked similar to this latest one. 

The bodies of the women showed no signs of violence, apart from bruises on the ankles and strangulation marks. Only two out of six cases, not counting Jun Takenaka, had their throats slit. The number of victims was not particularly alarming, as it indicated that if all the victims had been murdered by the same perpetrator, he must have been taking breaks. 

There had only been seven victims in three years. Although it was not known whether more women had been killed in a similar manner in Tokyo and its prefectures. You all would have preferred it to be so, but on the other hand, maybe it would have been possible to rule out the syndicate members. 

Why did you think Bonten had nothing to do with it? Sure, they could have done it and confiscated the goods that belonged to them, but despite the fact that you knew that their ranks were full of mentally unstable individuals and full of psychopaths, sociopaths, and other perverts, you had a feeling that this was a dead end. If it were otherwise, Tomoko wouldn't have been hiding such information. 

Yes, she was working with them, but if the syndicate was actually responsible, she would have told you to stay out of it or destroy the evidence, which had happened more than once in the past. 

Why did you listen to her? You wanted to be a good cop and keep order and catch those who broke the law, but that was before you joined the gang and found out that one of them had a boy who stole your heart in a matter of seconds. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for him and nothing could change that. Not even the fact that he personally threatened to kill you. 

You tried to live far away from him, but you couldn't, and you had proof on your computer. You sincerely hoped that Emi would never find out about them... Although, it was close once. 

“Are you changing your perfume?” She asked one day when she was coming back from your small office with a small watering can in her hands. 

She had a thoughtful expression on her face, although her tone of voice was completely calm. Just a normal question announcing a short, casual chat between two people who were close to each other. 

“Um... No. Not really.” You answered her, feeling your cheeks begin to warm up. 

“Hmm... Quite floral. If not for you...” 

“It was supposed to be for me. Just a sample.” 

“Oh? Changed your mind?” 

“Yes... As you noticed, quite floral. Maybe even a little too much for me.” You laughed shortly and Emi smiled at you widely. 

“Thank goodness.” She sighed, stroking your cheek. “The scent is nice... But I prefer the one you're wearing now.” 

“Uh-huh.” You nodded and kissed the woman on the cheek. 

That was before you moved into your new apartment, and since then you've been much more careful with using the perfume that Haruchiyo Sanzu used to wear. That mysterious scent became even more private, even intimate, for you, and you only sprayed it in your office when you knew you'd have time to air out the room before your girlfriend got home. 

Exactly... 

You couldn't wait any longer. You got up from your chair and went to the aforementioned room, taking with you a cup of tea that your beloved had brewed for you. You sat down in front of your desk and turned on your computer, and after a moment you started browsing through the new contents of your secret folder. 

The first few photos were taken in a nightclub that you suspected belonged to brothers, Ran and Rindou Haitani. The pink-haired gangster was sitting comfortably surrounde by a group of amused women who looked to be of different ages, and you could tell at first glance that they weren't exactly sober. 

Next up was a short video recording where Sanzu focused his attention on one of the girls. She was quite attractive, you had to admit that. At one point, they exchanged a long look, the woman leaned forward as if to kiss him and then the man smiled gently. You could clearly see how, during a rather passionate kiss, the gangster passed the girl a small pill, which she swallowed immediately. 

You clenched your teeth and swallowed as if a pill had appeared in your esophagus. Your heart was torn between joy at the sight of a contented Haruchiyo and a feeling of jealousy. You didn't like drugs, you preferred alcohol, but it should have been you, not that girl. 

The corner of your mouth lifted slightly, seeing that the drug was starting to affect the girl, who fell onto the chest of the man interested in her and after a short moment, Sanzu carefully stood up from his seat, grabbed the half-conscious party girl tightly and led her somewhere, disappearing from the frame. The recording ended, but you knew perfectly well what happened next. 

The pink-haired gangster took her to a private room and used her like you had already seen many times in the previous timeline. Heck, you yourself participated in several actions when instead of choosing the path of a law enforcement officer, you stayed by Sanzu's side. 

In the next recording, from a completely different day, Sanzu was sitting right next to Manjiro Sano and talking to him. The Bonten leader had a dispassionate, completely indifferent expression, but in his coal-black... Like a bottomless pit eyes, some icy flame was smoldering. There was something to it, because even Kakucho and Kokonoi sitting next to him looked gloomy. You were curious what it was about, but the music in the background was too loud for you to hear anything... Although... 

“...tomorrow...” The voice sounded like it belonged to Takeomi, but you weren't sure. 

“That son of a bitch...” Kokonoi growled, his gaze shifting to whoever was next to the person who was secretly recording. “Isn't one enough of a problem for us?” 

“What can you do?” 

Mikey nodded and Sanzu moved away from him. The pink-haired man looked furious. 

“Take care of it.” The leader said and No. 2 grinned. 

It was one of those cruel smiles that sent a shiver down your spine over and over again and you knew that whoever he was hunting was going to get really bad. The police would probably never find the body. 

As the recording ended, you saw the reflection in the bottles, caused by the colored lights, and it hit you that the person who had risked making this recording - like probably a few others you had received - was Tomoko herself. 

You whistled quietly, feeling a little anxious, but you were aware of the fact that your sister knew perfectly well what she was doing. She wouldn't throw herself into the lion's mouth if it wasn't worth the risk. You would have to ask her what that conversation was about soon. 

You looked at your watch, which showed 9:40 p.m. and directed your gaze towards the door, which you had open. In the hallway, you saw the lights flickering, indicating that Emi was still watching TV, or at least the device was still on. 

You closed the folder you were browsing and got up from the chair to check how your chosen one was doing. When you looked into the living room, it turned out that the woman was sleeping soundly on the couch you had recently purchased. You approached her, turned off the TV and in the light of the street lamps, carefully lifted her from the comfortable piece of furniture and carried her to your bedroom, where the futons were already waiting. 

As you tried to lay her down as carefully as you could, you immediately thought that buying a bed would be a must... But of course, Emi insisted on sticking with a more traditional form of lounging, and you didn't have the strength to argue with her about it too much. 

“It's much healthier, Y/n. It's good for your spine...” 

“I'd rather have a bed though... It's easier to put someone on.” You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her closer to you so that her back touched your chest. “I'm getting older...” 

“You're not even thirty.” She snorted quietly. 

“And you don't weigh 99Ibs anymore.” You bit your tongue before the words could leave your mouth. You sighed quietly and pressed your nose to the top of her head to inhale the scent of her shampoo. “Okay. We'll stick to the futons.” 

You placed the sleeping woman on her futon and huffed through your nose in relief. You loved her and loved her deeply, but having a bed allowed for so many different sexual positions that... 

“No...” She mumbled in her sleep, gently grabbing your hand as you started to pull away from her. 

“It's okay, baby. Sleep...” You tried to gently pull away from her grip, but it only tightened. 

“Stay...” She mumbled wrapping her arms around you again. “Please...” 

“Emi...” Hearing her mumble a few more words, you gave in and laid down next to her, letting the woman press her body against yours. 

That was it for your work today. You listened to her calm breathing, feeling sleepiness starting to take over you. 

Maybe it's better that you don't stay up late today? After all, he was supposed to show up first thing tomorrow morning... Damn, you didn't even know the nickname of the black-haired man who promised to appear for a voluntary interrogation in the Junko case. 

You hoped he would actually show up... 

You were standing in front of a dark passageway that led to an even darker room, from which a disgusting stench was coming to you, which was probably so ingrained in your memory that you would never be able to forget it or confuse it with anything else. 

You wanted to scream, being completely aware of everything, when whispers appeared in your head, where your dream had taken you. 

A torture room in the basement, which was located in the Uchiyama’s house. 

Something you had left behind long ago and at the same time something that did not exist. 

You turned your back to the passage and took a few steps towards the stairs leading up. You had no intention of giving in to this nightmare again. You had no intention of looking again at the mutilated body of the woman you had found back then and who had haunted you in your nightmares. 

*rustle* 

You stopped when you thought you heard a rustling sound, but when you strained your ears, there was silence everywhere. You felt an unpleasant shiver run down your spine, and for a split second you thought your body would lunge forward to escape that place, but it was just a dream, and you had no intention of letting the nightmares get to you. 

*rustle, rustle* 

You sighed heavily and closed your eyes again. “Get over it, Yukiko.” The rustling stopped, and you could feel someone's presence in the air. “I know I have to get Yuji, because he's responsible for what happened to you, but...” 

“Y/n-chan?” You didn't expect that voice. It seemed to belong to a young woman, but... 

You turned around quickly and saw the wrong person. A young man dressed in colorful women's clothes walked out of the dark passageway leading to the torture room. His wig, interwoven with colorful streaks, was slightly dirty, but the figure still looked good. 

You looked into his face, which was covered in heavy, colorful makeup, and saw confusion and fear in his big blue eyes. 

“Junko?” You gasped, completely unable to understand what was happening. 

“Y/n-chan…” He made a sad face. “I can't find my purse. Haru-chan will be angry if something happens to the package.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Why is it so dark in there?” She asked, looking over her shoulder into the abyss. 

“Junko... You shouldn't be here.” 

“I know, but I lost my purse.” She stretched out her small hand towards you, with artificial nails of different colors glued to them. “Can you help me, please?” 

You took three steps forward and just as you were about to grab the colorful flea by the hand, the dirty and bloody hands of a woman emerged from the darkness and with one violent movement pulled Junko back into the darkness of the room before she could let out a cry. 

You opened your eyes feeling a weight on your chest that wasn't there before. You held your breath and looked down, and as soon as you saw the figure of Emi, whose head was the source of the weight, gently illuminated by the street lamps, you let out a breath of relief. 

You wrapped your arms around her, gently stroking her back with one hand. You tried to control your rapidly beating heart so as not to wake the woman and tried to recreate fragments of the dream in your memory. 

It didn't scare you like the previous ones, and you didn't know what caused it. It was because you somehow managed to get used to the stench of a woman's decomposing body or because this time Junko Yoshioka appeared in it. 

The muscles in your arms tensed as you realized that the young man had addressed you by name, but you pursed your lips and looked out the window, not fully covered by the blinds. 

Of course, Junko called you by your name. After all, it was the work of your own subconscious, which had combined a figure from two different timelines. That was all, nothing special. 

The woman sleeping in your arms stirred with a purr and you released her. She moved away from you, turned on her side so that her back was turned towards you and began to snore softly, leaving you with a feeling of strange emptiness. 

You suddenly realized that even though Yoshioka was a total extrovert and her presence was almost overwhelming, you wanted to talk to her again. Maybe even let her feed you cookies like you did when you first met her. 

Despite the fact that she was a drug dealer, she seemed harmless to you. 

The corners of your mouth twitched as you recalled the image of the tiny man beating Mochizuki with his purse. The colorful flea was harmless unless someone stepped on its toes. 

As quickly as you were amused, you grimaced even more and got up from your futon and headed to your small office, knowing that you wouldn't be able to sleep again that night. 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[lgchyoseop]

LGC5TH GIFT FROM CHA HYOSEOP, CHA SORI, KIM CHERRY AND JUJU!

wow... has it really been so long? five years is a lot of years, i've come and gone a couple of times, but soon i'll have a muse turning three years ! (congrats cha hyoseop, my idiot, i love you). this is an incredible community, i've gotten so many friends here, and i've had so much fun, me and my muses truly love legacy <3 as a gift for you all, i've gathered a bunch of quotes (around 200-ish), then given the quotes a number and used a randominzer to pick which quote each muse should have, so it's basically fate giving you this quote! thanks to legacy, the mods and members!

(you can use ctrl+f to search for your muses name)

ahn jaehwa “you have not failed, until you make failing stop you”

ahn yein “don’t let life discourage you; everyone who got where they are, had to begin where they were”

bae heejin “tough times never last, but tough people do”

bae nathan “define success on your own terms, achieve it by your own rules, and build a life you’re proud to live”

bae sojin “take chances, make mistakes. that’s how you grow. pain nourishes your courage. you have to fail in order to practice being brave”

baek byeongkwan “there is nothing on earth that blooms all year long. nature wasn’t created to do that and neither are you.”

baek seona “some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go”

carter jaejin “focus on the step in front of you, not the whole staircase”

cha hyoseop “sometimes our limitations tell us when to stop. but sometimes they can show us where to look next”

cha sori “it is not our abilities that make us who we are, it’s our choices”

chae rua “the only time you should ever look back, is to see how far you’ve come”

chen maylin “i wasn’t afraid to fail. something good always comes out of failure”

cho iseul “if you really want to do something, you’ll find a way. if you don’t, you’ll find an excuse”

cho minkyu “make failure your teacher, not your undertaker”

choi junkyu “i’d rather attempt something great and fail than to attempt nothing and succeed”

choi kai “in youth we learn, in age we understand”

gong hyejoo “there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in” 

han hyunhee “do not fear mistakes, there are none”

han jisoo “a failure is not always a mistake, it may simple be the best one can do under the circumstances. the real mistake is to stop trying”

han noeul “hope is being able to see there is light, despite all of the darkness”

han rowon “if you spend your whole life waiting for the storm, you’ll never enjoy the sunshine” 

han seunghyun “one that want the fruit, must climb the tree”

hirawa emi “if you focus on results, you will never change. if you focus on change, you will get results”

hwang minki “rise above the storm and you will find the sunshine”

im yunseo “nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘i’m possible’”

ito mio “you learn more from failure than success. don’t let it stop you. failure builds character” 

jeon haru “doubts kill more dreams than failure ever will”

jo eunwoo “the secret of getting ahead is getting started”

kang maximillian “success is a state of mind. if you want success, start thinking of yourself as a success” 

kang minjun “remember, you can regret things you did not do”

kang sarang “i hold it true, what’er befall, i feel it, when i sorrow most. tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all”

kang yojoon “to be a champion you have to believe in yourself when no one else will”

kim cherry “i have not failed. i’ve just found 10.000 ways that won’t work”

kim jinhyuk “if you look closely, most overnight successes took a long time”

kim jinseo “turn your wounds into wisdom”

kim jinyoung “the best way to make your dreams come true, is to wake up”

kim nayoung “failure is a detour, not a dead-end-street”

kim sehun “only put off tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone” 

kim seyoon “don’t be pushed by your problems, be led by your dreams”

kim yujin “always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. try to be better than yourself.”

kuramoto misaki “follow your dreams, they show which way to go”

kurosawa akio “in order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear for failure”

kwon baekhyun “life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced” 

kwon hyuntae “the only thing that doesn’t change in life, is that thing changes” 

kwon sena “the sea is dangerous and its storms terrible, but these obstacles have never been sufficient reason to remain ashore”

lai wenjun “being lost is not bad, as it is what happens before you find your way”

lee hyunsoo “the elevator to success if out of order. you’ll have to use the stairs… one step at a time”

lee jiho “if opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door” 

lee minji “don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds that you plant” 

lee yushin “time you enjoyed wasting, was not wasted” 

lim sanghyun “i will either find a way or make one”

liu yuxi “to lose is still to learn”

mae jasper “if you can’t fly, then run, if you can't run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving” 

min chaeyeon “i can’t change the direction of the wind, but i can adjust my sails to always reach my destination

min hanbin “failure is simply the opportunity to try again, this time better-knowing”

min soyoun “some people want it to happen, some wish it to happen, be someone who makes it happen”

moon hayoung “don’t be afraid to give up the good to go for the great”

moon jiah “success only comes to those who dare attempt”

moon jino “you can’t connect the dots looking forward. you can only connect them looking backwards, so you have to trust that they will somehow connect in your future”

moon somin “do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do”

nam gyuri “the best way to predict the future is to create it”

noh areum “it is best to act with confidence, no matter how little right you have to it”

oh eunhye “life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards” 

okamoto kentaro “life isn’t about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself”

park chaekyung “we may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated”

park hyukjae “don’t wish it was easier, wish you were better. don’t wish for less problems, wish for more skills. don’t wish for less challenge, wish for more wisdom”

park seojin “exhale the past, inhale the future”

park sujin “scars only show us where we’ve been, they do not dictate where we’ll be”

park taeha “be not afraid of storms because you are learning how to sail your ship”

park zoe “difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. the human spirit is to grow strong by conflict”

seo minseo “sometimes good things fall apart, so better things can fall together”

seo nina “it does not matter how slowly you go as long as you don’t stop”

seo yura “your life does not get better by chance, it gets better by change”

shin jieun “in three words i can sum up everything i’ve learned about life: it goes on” 

son nabi “you need to let go of the past’s hand so you can catch the hand of the future”

su parker “you don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step”

sung haneul “if you fell down yesterday, stand up today”

takanashi asami “fairytales are more than true: not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten”

watanabe miyu “let the past take care of itself, and let the present move towards the future”

won yeonwoo “tomorrow is a mystery, yesterday is history, and today is a gift, that’s why they call it present”

xu lili “asking for help isn’t giving up, it’s refusing to give up”

xue yichen “never give up on a dream just because of the time it’ll take to accomplish it. the time will pass anyway”

yamashita ichika “anything is a journey if you start somewhere” 

yang aeri “you cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.”

yoo haemin “dreams do not have an expiration date, you can always keep trying”

yoon bitna “aim for the moon. if you miss, you may hit a star” 

yu milan “getting lost is part of the journey” zheng leo “don’t let the fear of losing be greater than the excitement of winning”

[jadedbirch]

Happy Centennial to La Divina!

December 2, 1923 was a blessed day for that was the day Maria Callas was born. Unmatched as an operatic diva, on and off stage, we are so fortunate to have many of her recordings to remind us of what we lost and for new generations of opera lovers to discover and become entranced with.

And now, the impossible task of picking my own personal top 5 Maria Callas roles.

5. Elvira (in Bellini's I Puritani)

Callas singlehandedly revived the bel canto repertoire and brought Bellini's operas (most not performed since the 19th century) back to the fore. Of all the operas in which La Divina got to excel in mad scenes, I chose this one because essentially the entire opera is one long mad scene for her character - Elvira - a young, Puritan girl who thinks that her beloved has abandoned her on the day of their wedding. Callas somehow finds an entire theatrical range of heartbreaks in this performance, and doesn't stop breaking your heart until the last (surprisingly happy) note of the opera.

Recommended: I would invest in the 1953 EMI studio recording with Giuseppe di Steffano and Rolando Panerai. But while I was fucking around, I also found this 1952 live recording from Mexico, that I'm excited to check out.

4. Leonora (in Verdi's Il Trovatore)

Callas was so famous for singing Verdi heroines, that it is almost impossible to chose one above others. I'm going to buck the trend and NOT choose Violeta from La Traviata, because that would be too easy. After all, Violeta is the focal point of La Traviata, and history has proven again and again that the public is wild for a consumptive courtesan. In contrast, Leonora is perfectly privileged and healthy, she is a lady in waiting to the Spanish Queen, whose one misfortune in life happens to be her questionable taste in men (as is often the case in Verdi's operas). Il Trovatore is known to be a vehicle for the tenor, but a good Leonora can steal the opera from under him, especially in the final act, and Maria Callas easily does just that.

Recommended: EMI's 1956 recording with di Steffano, Barbieri, and Panerai is really to die for. I have no notes! Here's a tasty snack to sample.

3. Medea (in Cherubini's Medea)

Some roles are so mythic that you need someone approaching demigodhood in order to pay them proper homage. Medea may have been a controversial figure in Greek mythology, but also an absolute badass and a powerful sorceress not to be fucked with. Callas imbued her with all the righteous rage that fueled her, but also with a keen humanity and vulnerability. I dare you to listen to any of her Medea recordings and not to come out of the experience rooting for those babies to be stabbed all the way dead. Hahahah just kidding. (Or am I?)

Recommended: Any of her studio or live recordings of Medea are great, but do yourselves a favor and listen to this 1953 LIVE recording conducted by Leonard Bernstein (yes that Bernstein). You will get the chills, I swear to all the gods. HER POWER!!!!

2. Tosca (in Puccini's Tosca)

This was my first complete opera recording that I purchased for what would later accidentally turn into my Maria Callas collection. I have listened to it more times than I care to admit, but in my defense, it was life changing. The way that Callas spits "ASSASSINO!!!" into Scarpia's face during the Act II torture scene. *chef's kiss* I get goosebumps to this day. The recording in question was was 1965, very late in her career, and by some accounts not when she was in her "best voice". But the sheer power of her artistry, the maturity with which every line is sung and acted, her understanding of the character far exceeds her early career interpretations of the same heroine. This was the Callas I fell in love with - the woman who made me realize opera could be about so much more than pretty singing.

Recommended: Lucky you, here's the full 1965 studio recording with Carlo Bergonzi and Tito Gobi. There are some live recordings available now on Youtube from the same year! But if you're looking for a "prettier" sounding Tosca, there's always her 1953 studio recording.

Norma (in Bellini's Norma)

Haha, how predictable, you might say, but listen - why fuck with perfection? Has anyone since her been able to come anywhere even close in this role? Some big names have tried. Some big names never even got the cojones to try. Some have flirted with recording the famous Casta Diva aria alone. But listen - she was incomparable, show stopping, life changing. When I listen to her sing Norma, I feel like I know what it's like to be in the presence of God.

Recommended: Do yourselves a favor and get the 1955 EMI studio recording. Although really any recording of her singing Casta Diva will make you see angels/fairies/unicorns if you haven't already.

[v3nusxsky]

emily prentiss helping bpd!reader through an episode?

I'm here Angel

*Authors note~ bpd is such an important topic I hope I can do this some justice and she'd some light on the condition. This is going to be mainly based off my experiences with bpd*

Trigger warnings~ bpd r bpd episode abusive ex paranoia hallucination self harm etc

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

You were fine, until you heard those words. "Wheels up in twenty", it wouldn't have bothered you if you were not going to Florida. It's strange how a place could do so much to you, but they didn't know that. Maybe if they did you would've sat this case out. Stayed with Garcia and worked from the office. But they didn't, so you gathered your Go bag and headed out to the strip where JJ and Emily were waiting.

You started to notice the episode on the plane, you knew the team were talking, you could see their mouths moving but you couldn't bring yourself to join in. It was like an outsider looking in. You appeared to be distracted and unfocused. You couldn't help but fight the urge to slip into the planes bathroom and search for something to solve the problem. You knew it was wrong, but why would you care anyway, you were already littered in scars.

The team seemed to be frustrated at your lack of concentration so you tried as hard as you could to fight this episode off, you weren't able to cope with this while working. It wasn't that the team didn't know of your BPD because they did, Emily was closer to you than any of the other members. Spencer had the most experience with mental health but you still felt the need to keep things to yourself. It was safer that way.

By the time you arrived in Florida you were a wreck. You Emily and JJ were sent to the local Police department to set up base, and that's when you saw her. Fuck. You didn't realise she worked in the force. Suddenly you were suffocating, drowning as her face haunted your vision. Everything was her. The paranoia set in that very moment. You felt like everyone knew what she'd done, that they were laughing at you. Her voice in places she shouldn't be, no matter who's voice she replaced it was her. Spewing hatred as everyone sniggered and watched you.

You didn't realise you were crying, shaking and backing away into the left corner of the room until Emily began to advance towards you. "Pretty girl? Are you okay Angel?" It wasn't Emily. You could see it was her! You just wanted the real Emily. "Go away! Don't touch me! Make it stop" you sobbed now gaining the attention of most the police department. JJ looked over in sympathy before grabbing Spencer and trying to distract the officers, hoping the less people would help Emily calm you.

"Sweetheart? I won't touch you but I need you to focus on my voice" Emily whispered as your eyes darted around the room seeing multiple of her ex. "Go away go away!" If Emily didn't understand what was happening right now she may have listened to that command, but she knew you maybe not to what caused this episode but she wasn't about to leave you in such a state. "Hey, pretty girl, listen to me. It's Em, your Emi. It's okay, I'll keep you safe Angel." Maybe it was time or just that you found the raven haired woman soothing, but her voice finally broke through the hallucination and paranoia.

Your blurry eyes focused on Emily, "that's it, good job pretty girl" was all it took for you to fall into her awaiting arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" you whimpered over and over again. "Angel, shhh it's okay it's all gonna be okay."

You lost count of long you sat sobbing in her arms. She didn't seem to mind holding you. You were exhausted and truthfully trying to processs that she wasn't currently in the room, all until you heard her tell JJ to let her in. You whimpered, clinging to Emily pleading with her to keep you safe. "You can't go in there" JJ was firm and clear yet she still pushed past into the room only to be met with an almost animalistic snarl from Emily. "Get out!"

"She's mine I'll help her, you don't know what you're doing" she snarled back only for Emily to stand with you immediately clinging to her, arms around her neck and legs clinging to her waist. She walked out holding you, biting at the fact the woman tried to touch you, only to be pinned by Spencer. "Not happening" was all he offered. You nuzzled into her neck as she quickly mumbled to Hotch, who was just arriving that you needed her and to be away from this hell. He nodded in understanding and of course JJ filled him in on what happened. Safe to say your ex had no job after this case, Hotch made sure of that.

Emily quickly managed to get you into the car and off to the hotel and into her room. "Angel, I need to get my key card" she mumbled only causing you to shake your head no. Somehow she managed it and placed you on her bed before offering you a hoodie and some water. Her scent soothing you as you reached for the woman again. "Can we talk about what happened pretty girl? Or would you like to sleep now." You choose sleep and you need up snuggled up to the woman. You'd talk tomorrow that's for sure but for now she's happy to hold you.

Word count~ 952