#i assumed missing spreads would be listed if that was the case but still wanted to see. anyways. i could cry. im so excited | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jgmartin · 1 year

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JAGGED JANICE

I'm a government employee.

My name isn’t important. All you need to worry about is what I have to say.

I work at a compound known as the Facility. Within it, we perform research on things the public would find… unappetizing. Officially, we’re listed under Experimental Weapons Development, but lately, our umbrella has spread much wider.

Suffice it to say that there are things out there that go bump in the night. Things, both legendary and mundane, that exert their influence upon us and defy explanation. My job is to interview individuals who believe they’ve encountered such entities and determine if their accounts are fact or fiction. What my job is not to do, however, is share those interviews.

In this case, though, I don’t think I have a choice.

_____________________

The room is cramped, dimly lit, and smells vaguely of stale piss and black mold. A light hangs above the table between us, rocking back and forth and doing a poor job illuminating much of anything. Still, I can see the man's gaunt face and the fields on my clipboard.

It's enough. It will do.

I ask the man to tell me his story, and it begins.

“It happened at the cabin,” he says. He’s twenty-something, with a long nose and five o’clock shadow. When he reaches for his cigarette, his hand shakes like a 1950’s pickup truck. “Not my cabin,” he adds. “It belonged to Emily, but she invited us up. The three of us.”

My pen scratches across my clipboard. FOUR INDIVIDUALS. “For leisure, I’ll assume?”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, I guess.” A laugh escapes his lips. It’s short. Awkward. “Why else do people go to cabins? We just wanted to get drunk, stoned, forget our problems for the weekend. You know, like normal people do.”

“Of course,” I say, marking down his response. His eyes dart toward the cameras in the corner of the room, and his tongue slips across his lips. They’re chapped, cracked and bleeding. He looks worse than a mess. He looks like a disaster.

“The cameras,” he says. “What’s the deal with them? You said you weren’t a cop.”

“I’m not,” I reassure him. “The cameras are for my own records. Events— encounters with the paranormal, they’re tricky things. Sometimes we catch items in recordings we’d otherwise miss in person.”

He stares at me a while. His lip curls in, his teeth gnawing at it. It’s a look I’ve seen before, the sort of look where he’s wondering if maybe he’s being played. He’s wondering if this is a sting operation, and he’s taking the bait and I’m going to have him thrown into a psych ward, or worse.

“It’s better if you tell me everything,” I say, placing my clipboard on the desk between us. “I’m not here to have you put away, only to get some answers.”

A moment of dead air hangs between us, and it’s the sort of moment I recognize. He’s weighing the situation. Sizing me up. He’s wondering if he’s comfortable talking about something this batshit insane to a total stranger.

But then he takes a breath, followed by a deep drag, and he ashes his cigarette.

“Sure,” he says. He taps on a finger on the desk. Gathers his thoughts. “It happened late at night. The four of us had been drinking in the cabin, doing mushrooms, but we all slept outside in tents since the place was full of spiders. Hardly ever got used.”

“Why’s that?” I check a box labeled INTOXICATED.

He shrugs. “Bad memories, I think?”

I tilt my head to the side, inviting him to continue.

“The cabin belonged to Emily’s mom," he explains. "She passed away when Em was a little girl, and the place has been a mausoleum ever since. Em thinks it has bad mojo.”

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?” He tastes the question. “I think that... ” He trails off, his eyes losing focus, gazing at the splintered wooden table between us. Suddenly, he seems far away. There’s an emptiness to his expression. A disconnect. I wonder if he’s thinking of legends and nightmares.

I wonder if he’s thinking of Jagged Janice.

“Is everything alright?” I ask.

He blinks, then nods.

My pen scratches across my clipboard. SUBJECT APPEARS TRAUMATIZED. AVOIDANT.

“What’s that?” he asks. “What are you writing?” He leans forward, his thin frame eclipsing the table as he narrows his eyes on my form. I pull it away.

“It’s private.”

“How come?”

“Your knowledge of my notes could influence your account. I’d prefer it if such biases were avoided.”

His face creases, jaw clenches.

“Now,” I say. “Please continue.”

He looks angry as he sits back in his chair. Pissed. He’s gnawing at his lips again, and his finger’s tapping the table like a gatling gun. There’s no doubt in my mind that this guy’s been through a lot, but I need to make sure he’s telling the truth, and in order to do that, he can’t know anything. Nothing at all.

“Fine,” he says at length. “We’ll do it your way.”

Yes, we always do.

“Like I said, we were drinking in the cabin. Swapping old war stories from high-school. Talking about stupid pranks we’d pull, or places we’d tag, or teachers we hated. We reflected. Pretty soon though, we got drunk enough that stuff went deeper. We stopped talking about all the silly surface bullshit, and we started talking about the stuff that really meant something to us— the things that set our souls on fire.”

“That’s a poetic turn of phrase. Are you a writer?”

He shrugs.

“Let me rephrase. Would you describe yourself as having an active imagination?”

The man studies me, gears turning in his head. Again, he’s wondering if I’m goading him into an admission of insanity. He’s wondering if I’m calculating what amount of antipsychotics it would take to counterbalance his paranoia, and what size straightjacket would best fit his scarecrow frame.

But I’m not doing any of that.

The truth is, I don’t care if he’s insane or perfectly lucid. I don’t give a damn about him at all. All I care about is whether or not he’s seen Jagged Janice, and that he isn’t another liar.

“My imagination isn’t anything special,” he says at length. “Now, can I tell my fucking story, or are you going to keep interrupting?”

I smile. "Sure. Go ahead."

He takes a breath, spares a half-second to glare at me. “The four of us are drinking in Em’s cabin and she starts to get… low. Like, depressed. She’s usually a pretty upbeat person so I ask her what’s up, and she says she’s just been feeling a bit haunted since coming back to the cabin.”

I lift an eyebrow.

“Her brother…” The man sighs, shakes his head as though determining how best to phrase his next words. “Her brother died at the cabin. Drowned to death in the ocean a hundred yards from the front door. Emily watched it happen.”

“She watched her brother drown?”

He nods. “She was three years old. She didn’t understand what was happening, not really. There wasn’t anything she could do.”

“I see.” It’s a sad story, but not really what I came here for. Worse still, nothing yet matches the Jagged Janice legend. “Anything else?”

The man looks up at me, and disbelief swims in his eyes. “Anything else?” he mutters. “No, asshole. That’s it. She watched her brother die and it made her feel like shit.”

“I’m not here for Emily’s story, I’m here for yours. You’ll excuse me if I forget to feign empathy for a woman I’ve never met.” I check a box labeled CONFRONTATIONAL and rest my pen on my clipboard. “Now then, you said you were drinking. Talking. What happened after that?”

His jaw is set. Clenched. He looks like he wants to slug me in the face and honestly, I wouldn’t blame him, but instead he takes a drag on his cigarette and leans back in his chair.

“We drink and talk until our eyes get droopy,” he says. “And then we go to bed. It’s like any night, I guess. Up until a point.”

There’s an implication in his words, but I’ll deal with it later. For now I need more details. I need to understand the setting of the Event as clearly as I can. “The police report,” I say, glancing down at my copy of the document, “mentions the incident occurred inside of the cabin. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you describe it for me? The layout?”

He scratches the back of his head, brows furrowed. There’s a picture being painted in his mind, colored by memories. “It's a tee-shaped cabin. Capital T. There’s two bedrooms on either side of the T, and at the very top center is a bathroom. The bottom of the T is the living area and kitchen, then the front door.”

“Simple enough.” I make a quick sketch of it on my form. “According to the report, the Event occurred in the washroom. I’d like you to talk about that.”

His eyes narrow, and his mouth twitches. He sucks in on his cigarette like it’s the last drag he’ll ever have. Slow. Long. He burns it down to the filter, eyes bloodshot, and then he drops it into the ashtray. “You got any more of these?”

“Sure.” I reach inside my jacket and pull out a pack, tossing it to him. The man catches it and flips it open. His hands are shaking. They’re shaking so hard that he can hardly light the smoke after he slips it into his mouth.

“Let me,” I offer.

“No,” he says. “I’ve got it.” The lighter strikes, and a flame dances to life. He hovers it below his dart until an ember glows. Then the man leans back, takes a deep drag, and blows out a storm cloud. “You’re the real deal, huh?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The real deal. You actually believe me, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” I say. Truthfully I’m still making up my mind. “You said the four of you quit drinking to go to sleep. Back in your tents, I presume. What happened after that?”

He ashes the cigarette. “Nature calls. I gotta take a shit, so I get up and head to the cabin. When I unzip the tent though, I can’t see the dirt in front of me. It’s that dark outside. Pitch black.”

“No moon?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t looking for one. All I know is I’ve got to take a shit, and I’m not about to use the outhouse— it smells worse than death. So I make my way to the cabin. Once I get inside though, this weird feeling comes over me.”

“Weird feeling?”

“Like I’m being watched.”

Promising.

“The place feels empty. Lonely. It’s just me, the bugs, and the light from my phone. The light’s making shadows out of everything— the dusty fridge, the cluttered shelves, and the messy counters. There’s a thousand shapes all around me, shifting with every step I take and this feeling of, I don’t know.... Dread? comes over me. Like I’m not safe.”

The man pauses. Sweat beads down his forehead. “Sorry,” he says. “I just haven’t thought about it in this much detail since the night it happened.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “Events are messy things, and more often than not, they leave scars.”

“Okay.”

“Take your time.”

He gives himself a minute. Catches his breath. “Like I said, I don’t feel safe in there, but I’m drunk enough that it doesn’t faze me. I’ve still got a buzz going from earlier in the night, you know? I think to myself, I came to take a shit and some spooky shadows aren’t gonna stop me.” He chuckles to himself, shakes his head. “But a few seconds later, I’m in the bathroom and locking the door behind me. I figure, why take the chance?”

He’s nervous. Jittery. His leg’s bouncing up and down and shaking the table. It’s beginning to affect my ability to write. “Would you like a glass of water?” I ask.

“I’m fine.”

“Humor me.” I grab the jug and pour him a cup, sliding it across the table. He eyes it for a moment, and then grips the glass, bringing it to his lips and downing it in one swig. I pour him another.

“So,” he says, wiping his lips. “I’m about to unbuckle and do my business when I see movement. It’s in the top corner of the bathroom— in one of those little toilet windows, like the type that’s clouded on the bottom for privacy, or whatever, but clear on the top to let in light.”

“I’ve seen those. Is that where you witnessed the Event?”

“That’s where I saw the smile.”

Jagged Janice. “Describe it.”

“Honestly I…” He sounds suddenly hesitant. Worried. “I’d rather not describe the smile, if we could. Wouldn’t it be better to just talk about the Event instead?”

“The smile is part of the Event,” I remind him. “It’s important that we get as many details as possible, no matter how uncomfortable your memories may be.”

He looks down, and his eyes drift out of focus. “The smile is just a row of teeth. But the teeth are too big and too sharp to belong to a human, and there are just… so many of them.”

I check my notes, consulting descriptions of Jagged Janice listed in old email chains from the early 2000’s. “I’d like to hear more about these teeth.”

“Why?”

“The teeth are important. Describe them, please.”

The man is uncomfortable. He’s shifting in his seat like quicksand, and when he talks his voice cracks but he gives me what I want. “The teeth are jagged,” he says. “Serrated, almost. Their length is all over the place. Some barely break her gums, others stretch down, cutting through her lips.” His fingers move again. They’re tapping on the metal table. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“When I see the smile, my heart starts pounding. I’m frozen there, standing in the dark bathroom with just the light from my phone. My mind’s reeling, but I know that whoever that smile belongs to, I don’t want them seeing me, so I hold my phone up against my chest. Tight as I can. I smother the light.”

“The light,” I say. “Did the woman showcase an adverse reaction to it?” Janice, according to her legend, loathes light.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Or, I don’t know? I can’t remember small details.” He pauses, and reaches for his glass of water before taking another gulp.”At that point my body’s mostly just adrenaline. There’s a storm of it coursing through me and screaming at me to run or scream or fight this bitch or just do something. Anything. But I can’t. I just stand there, staring at her inhuman teeth, at her horrible, twisted smile with my phone clutched to my chest like a crucifix.

“Then the smile begins to fall away, lowering itself until it’s just a blur behind the foggy part of the window. In its place are two eyes.” The man takes a breath, shuddering, trembling. “They’re wide, angled all wrong and they’re leaking this… black fluid. They dart around the washroom as if looking for something.

“I stay still. Still as I can, like I’m fucking paralyzed. There’s no light in the room, none except the bits of moon framing the monster in the window, so I let myself meld into the darkness. I don’t move an inch, and I pray to god the creature can’t see me there.”

He shivers, reaches for his cigarette and takes a drag.

“Then I hear the tapping on the window. Tap. Tap. Tap. It’s followed by this chattering sound, and it takes me a second but I realize it’s her teeth gnashing together, open and shut, open and shut, over and over again. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t. But part of me can’t stop myself, and I glance up and see her eyes staring back at me. Two tiny black dots in a sea of white. My breathing stops. My pulse races. Dribbles of piss run down my leg. It’s just the two of us now, watching one another.”

I lean forward, my interest piqued. Much of his description could have been pulled from the Jagged Janice legend itself. The small black pupils. The rows of inhuman teeth. I check off the features on my clipboard as he goes. “What does she do?” I ask. “When you lock eyes with her?”

He swallows. “She speaks.”

“What does she say?”

“She says,” he stammers. “I see you.”

I write the words down and circle them three times. They’re not familiar to me. “Describe her voice to me. Did she sound old? Young?”

“Her voice was quiet. Hard to hear. The words sounded like they’d been pulled out of a woodchipper. Their pronunciation was broken and unnatural, like they’d been cut up by those… teeth.”

“Curious,” I mutter.

“Her fingers reach up, and she taps the glass again. Tap. Tap. Tap. I chance another look, and all I can see is her terrible, serrated smile in the window. It’s making me feel nauseous. I’ve never been that scared, you know? I close my eyes, wanting the feeling to go away for just a second, but when I open them again the smile’s gone. It’s just me, alone in the bathroom.”

He puts his face in his hands and lets the armor fall away. His shoulders quake with silent sobs. I give him a minute, then another.

“Is that all?” I ask.

No response. It becomes apparent that his account has reached its conclusion.

Disappointing to say the least.

“A harrowing experience,” I say, giving my form a final swipe with my pen. With a sigh, I stand up from my chair, reaching out to shake his hand. “On behalf of the Facility, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to share it with me.”

The man’s sobs taper off. He blinks up at me, with red, puffy eyes and when he speaks his voice is barely there at all. “It’s not over,” he says. “There’s more.”

My heart thrums as I pull back my handshake. A smile slips across my face as I sit back down in my chair, centering my clipboard in front of me. “Something else occurred?”

“Yeah,” he says, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “The next few hours turned into a nightmare.”

I click my pen, skin prickling with goosebumps. “You don’t say?” Now it’s my turn to take a breath, to center myself and calm my nerves. “How very unfortunate.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he says, sarcasm thick in his voice.

“Please continue, then.”

“It… It takes me ten minutes before I can muster the courage to crack the bathroom door. When I do, I do it gently. Quietly. You can hardly even hear the shitty hinges creak, that’s how careful I am. I peek out of the crack, looking for the smiling woman, terrified that I’m going to see her standing in the living area waiting for me, but I don’t.

“There’s nobody else in the cabin. It’s just me. So I step out, moving across the hardwood floor. It creaks and groans with every step I take and each time that it does, my heart skips a beat and I expect to see her jump out of the darkness. I’m seeing that smile everywhere now. In every shadow. In every window. I want to shout and scream— I want to call out to my friends in the tent and beg them to pull me out of this horror, but they’re beyond the cabin door. Out there at the far end of the yard. They’re a world away.”

“And your phone,” I ask. “You never thought to use that to call for help?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m on a backwater island off the coast of rural BC. I’ve got great cell service out there.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t get a cell signal if I climbed to the top of the tallest tree. My phone was a glorified flashlight.”

A fair point.

“Since I can’t call for help, I psyche myself up. I’ve got my hand on the front doorknob, and I’m ready to fling the door open and scream bloody murder, run to my friends and tell them we need to start the truck now because there’s a fucking monster on the island and.... And that’s when I hear it.”

His fingers thrum the metal desk. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“In the window next to the front door, I see a long arm in a frayed sleeve, with crooked fingers playing against the glass. They’re drumming a rhythm. Something… awful. It’s noise masquerading as song.”

“Then I hear her again. I see you, she says in a gravely, guttural voice. The tapping gets faster. Heavier. I pull away from the window, from the door, and fall back into the shadows of the cabin. She must be twelve feet tall because her head cranes down into the window frame, all the way from the top of it. Her eyes are gleaming in the moonlight, darting around and swiveling again in ways they shouldn’t be able to. She’s searching again. For something— me maybe. I don’t know.”

The man finishes his cigarette and slips a fresh one out of the pack. He lights it, trembling, and sucks in on the nicotine. His expression softens. “Then she’s gone,” he says.

“Gone?” I ask, disappointed. “Again?” There’s nothing in the Jagged Janice mythology that indicates her vanishing and reappearing at regular intervals.

“Gone,” he confirms. “I’m alone. Time passes. Minutes, maybe hours. I don’t know. I just sit there in the living room, my ears and eyes straining for any sound, any movement, anything at all. I’m shaking and breathing in short bursts, terrified if I breathe too heavily she’ll hear me. I wonder to myself how long it's been. How long there’s still to go until the sun rises, and somebody wakes up and comes to check on me or use the washroom. I think about using my phone to check the time, but the idea of its blacklight giving me away terrifies me, so I don’t. I just sit there and wait.”

“How long do you wait? Until morning?”

He laughs. Takes another drag. “Fuck no,” he says. “It takes a while, but eventually I get calmer, or maybe too scared to keep sitting there doing nothing. Maybe I just need to reassure myself that this nightmare has an ending. I don’t know.” He gnaws at his fingernail. “I’m fucking quivering as I pull my phone outta my pocket. Shaking like a leaf. I turn it on, and my home screen lights up my face like I’m about to tell a campfire story.”

“What time is it?”

“3:34 a.m. Two hours from sunrise, at that time of year.” The man sighs, running a hand along his jaw. “It’s too long for me. I can’t do it, you know? I decide I need to do something now before that woman comes back because I have this horrible feeling that the next time she shows up she’s going to be inside the cabin. She’s going to find me. So I tell myself to make a run for it. Wake up my friends. It’s easy, I think. I’ll open my mouth and fucking scream my lungs out, and that way even if she gets in my way then at least everybody on the island will wake up, and maybe I’ll get out of there in one piece. So I do it, I open my mouth and I scream.

“But nothing happens,” he says quietly. His expression darkens. Tears slip from the corners of his eyes, and his lip trembles all over again. “No sound comes out. Instead, a hand that’s long and crooked wraps itself around my mouth. It pulls my head back, and I smell rot and decay and seaweed, and a voice whispers in my ear like a lawn mower. I see you.”

Janice. I lean forward, gazing at him expectantly. “How did you get away?”

He wipes at his eyes, choking back the last of his sobs. “No idea. I blacked out. When I woke up I wasn’t in the cabin anymore, I was in a hospital bed surrounded by my friends.”

“Same ones from the cabin?”

“That’s right.”

I check a box on my form labeled SURVIVOR. Then I chew on the back of my pen for a second before checking a second box: POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS AFFECTED.

“And what do these friends say? Anything useful?”

“They tell me it’s all their fault,” he says. “Em mumbles about how we should never have come out to the cabin in the first place. Steve and Haily are blaming themselves for letting me get exceptionally drunk.” He cracks a bittersweet smile. “Everybody wants a share of the guilt.”

My eyes drift down to the man’s file. “You said the island was remote. I’ll assume the hospital wasn’t local to it?”

“No,” he says. “It was off the island. An hour or so inland. I must have been out for a day at least though, because I don’t remember ever travelling there.”

“Interesting.” A recurring aspect of the Janice mythology is a sense of mild amnesia and the presence of minor to severe bite wounds. “What did the hospital treat you for?”

He clears his throat. “A mild concussion. And water in my lungs.”

“Water in your lungs?” I shake my head, dropping my pencil. Perhaps I should be happy the young man survived whatever terror visited him that night, but so many pieces of his story don’t match the mythology at all. “You’re certain? Water in your lungs?”

“That’s right,” he says. “The doctors didn’t understand it either. I never even got a chance to take a dip in the ocean, let alone drown in it.”

“Okay, let me get this straight. So your friends pop by, leave you some get-well cards and you get discharged a couple of days later.” I lean back in my chair, folding my arms. “Does that about sum things up?”

The man looks away, rubbing his arm. “Not exactly,” he says darkly. “Before they leave, I tell them about the smiling woman. I ask them if they’ve seen a tall woman with razor sharp teeth lurking around the island. Steve and Hailey look at eachother like I must have hit my head harder than anybody thought. The look in their eyes… It's like they’re terrified I’ve given myself brain damage. Steve squeezes my arm and apologizes over and over for doing shots with me. Says he should’ve gone easy for the first night. Hailey agrees. Says I drove them all the way out there, so they should have let me get some sleep.”

“And your other friend?” I ask. “Emily?”

“She’s standing back. Staring at me, and her eyes are filled with… I don’t know. Regret? But it’s different from Steve and Hailey. She doesn’t look like she feels sorry for me. She looks like she really blames herself for all of this. I say her name, Emily. Ask her if she’s seen the woman because I get the sense that she has.”

I slide my pen down my clipboard and circle a word that says WITNESS before annotating it with a small question mark. “How does she respond?”

“She leaves,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t think she wants to talk about the woman— at least, not in front of Hailey and Steve. Pretty soon everybody leaves. It’s just me again, in some tiny hospital on the outskirts of nowhere. The only company I’ve got is the apple tree outside my window and the shitty TV. I sleep pretty uneasily that night. Tossing and turning. I wake up at one point to the sound of tapping, and I stare out my window horrified, expecting to see that woman again, but it’s just the apple tree. It’s branches are brushing against the glass.

“I wonder to myself if this is just my life from now on. If everytime I hear the faintest sound at night, I’m going to wake up in cold sweats thinking that woman’s come back for me. Then the door creaks open. My body goes into full-blown panic, my breath hitches in my chest, my muscles tighten, and it’s like that night all over again, with the smiling woman where I can’t move an inch for fear.

“But it’s just Emily,” he says, chuckling in disbelief. “She pauses in the doorway and asks me if she can come in. I tell her that of course she can, and she does, not bothering to turn on the lights. When she gets to my bedside, I can see her face more clearly by the light of the window. She looks rough. Her eyes have these heavy bags, and her cheeks are all red and splotchy from crying. She’s wiping snot on her sleeve and telling me sorry, over and over.”

“Sorry for what? Inviting you out to the cabin?” I say, doing my best not to roll my eyes. I’ve never seen a group of friends with such a guilty conscience.

“No,” the man says. “She says she’s sorry for not warning me about the woman. She says she thought the woman was gone, otherwise she’d never have come back to that place.”

“What?” I snap forward, eyes latching onto his. “She told you she knew about the woman?”

He nods. “She said the circumstances of her brother’s death were different than she’d originally told us. He didn’t drown— not accidentally. He was murdered. A woman attacked them on the beach, a woman with a terrible smile and this tangle of black, messy hair that covered her face. She dragged Em’s brother backward through the sand, muffling his screams with her hand, and then held him under the surf. She kept him there until he stopped moving. Then, she let the tide take him away.”

“Disturbing,” I say. “And she never brought this up to her parents?”

"She did. Her father told her it was just her imagination. He said that her brother had fallen into the ocean and gotten swept away, and it was already hard enough to deal with without Emily adding to it. So Emily just buried the memory. Moved on."

The man looks up at me, his expression despondent. “That’s when we hear it,” he says. "In the hospital room. A tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. It comes from the window to my right, the one with the old apple tree.”

“The woman?”

“I don’t look. I tell Emily not to look either. I tell her to focus on me, to ignore the sound. I don’t know what she saw as a little girl, down by the ocean, but I know I don’t want her to see what I saw in that cabin." He shudders. "I don’t want her to see that smile."

“Does she listen to you?”

He grips a fistful of his hair, closes his eyes. “No,” he says quietly. “She looks, and when she does, she screams. She screams so loudly that the lights come on down the hall, and Inurse bursts in and pulls Emily away, calls a patrol car the night nurse call out and start running. Emily rushes toward the window, I catch sight of it from the corner of my eye because I still refuse to look at that pane of glass, but I hear Emily beating against it with her fists. Clawing at it with her nails. Then the her to drive her home.”

The man takes a breath. He puts his face in his hands and rubs his eyes. “I text her an hour later. Just to make sure that she’s okay and—”

“—Yes,” I say, cutting him off. I glance at the folder on my desk labeled CORRESPONDENCE, then down at the watch on my wrist. It’s three in the morning, and I’m jet-lagged. The meat of the man’s story appears to have run its course. “If the texts are everything that’s left then I can read them on my own.” I rise from the desk and offer my hand to shake. He gives it a weak, reluctant squeeze, avoiding my eyes. Then he leaves the room without another word.

I sigh, sitting back down in the steel chair. Another long day. Another dead end. I adjust my glasses and pull out the text logs. There’s only a handful of message receipts. The chance is slim, but the possibility that there’s something in there about Jagged Janice entices me too much to set them aside for tomorrow.

I begin to read.

As I do, I make note of the timestamps. Words do a good job of painting a picture, but time and location lend context to everything.

01:34 Dorian: are you okay?

02:12 Emily: Not really

02:12 Dorian: did you see her?

02:45 Dorian: em, im sorry. that was a stupid text

02:45 Emily: It's fine.

02:46 Dorian: im guessing you dont feel like talking

02:46 Emily: Actually, it might be good for me

02:47 Dorian: yeah? okay. me too

02:47 Dorian: i never got a chance to tell you earlier, but i cant imagine how horrible it must have felt to see what happened to your brother and have your dad not believe you?? thats fucked

02:55 Emily: It's fine. We were never close anyway.

02:55 Dorian: sorry to hear. did you ever tell your mom? I mean, before she passed?

02:56 Emily: No. Mom was already dying by then and dad would've killed me

02:56 Dorian: fuck. im an asshole. how could I forget something like that? sorry agajn

02:57 Emily: You're not an asshole. You're right that I would have told her about Jonas if I could have

02:59 Emily: By then she was so hopped up on painkillers though that I hardly even recognized her

03:00 Dorian: the meds must have been pretty heavy. thats a lot to deal with for a four year old kid.

03:01 Emily: Yeah, her esophageal cancer was bad. She was in a lot of pain near the end and rarely in a good mood. Pretty sure dad was having an affair at the time too. Fuckin prick

03:01 Dorian: im sorry. thats a shitty memory to bring up

03:03 Emily: Dont be. I think I repressed a lot of old memories of her which probably isnt healthy

03:05 Emily: Honesrly, if it wasn't for you, I'd probably think I was going crazy right now

03:05 Dorian: why?

03:06 Emily: I saw her too.

03:06 Dorian: the smiling woman?

03:07 Dorian: em?

03:34 Emily: My mother

03:34 Emily: I see my mother

I stare at the last word in stunned silence. Her mother? Could she actually have been the origin of the legend? I rub a hand along my jaw, considering what I've heard of Emily's history. She had only been four years old at the time of her brother's death when she had witnessed a crazed woman drag him into the sea, a woman who she couldn’t identify because black hair obscured her face.

Could that woman have been her own mother? It doesn’t seem terribly likely. But it doesn’t seem impossible either. Children often reframe moments of terror in a bid to understand the incomprehensible.

I reach for my briefcase, unclasping the latches on the front and pulling out my laptop. I take a breath and then open up the database software. Emily’s easy enough to find. Her last name is plastered everywhere across her social media, so I plug that in. The search function isn't the fastest, but it does the trick. It takes thirty seconds for the tiny, rotating hourglass to stop spinning, and when it does I see her.

SUBJECT: EMILY KALDWELL

FATHER: HARLOD KALDWELL

MOTHER: JANICE KALDWELL [DECEASED]

I swallow, my hands shaking on the keyboard.

Had I finally found Jagged Janice? I pour myself a glass of water, finishing it in two giant swigs. It does little to calm my nerves. Still, it's one piece of the puzzle solved, but really it just creates more questions. It doesn’t explain several aspects of the man’s story. The water in the lungs, for instance. Or the vanishing. Certain pieces of his encounter don’t add up, at least not compared against the original legend.

There’s a knock on the door.

Three sharp raps with a knuckle. I get up to answer it, thinking maybe the man’s forgotten his phone or wants to give me back my pack of smokes. When I open the door though, there’s nobody.

I raise an eyebrow and head back to my laptop. I need to discover the source for these changes, these departures from the Jagged Janice mythology. This time I bring up my web browser, navigating to one of my preferred resources on urban legends. The website's a bit corny, but it's proven accurate, and its community aspect has been invaluable in my research.

After some scrolling, I bring up the Jagged Janice article. People can leave anecdotal encounters beneath the main text, and sometimes they do. Usually, they’re all bullshit.

One of them catches my eye, however. It mentions seeing the serrated smile, the tapping fingers, and… that they found their infant child dead with water in its lungs. I shake my head. A coincidence, that’s all. I keep scrolling. More keywords jump out at me.

“... there and then gone.”

“... voice like a meat grinder.”

“... to the sea with you.”

I pause. Those were the words Emily said, words she remembered when she witnessed her brother being pulled into the ocean. To the sea with you. My mind spins, but a picture is forming. The guttural, difficult to understand voice. The drowned brother. The words.

“I see you.”

No. She was never saying those words, not really. She was saying to the sea with you. The man misheard, or perhaps he couldn’t properly understand because of Janice’s damaged voice. In his panic he likely defaulted to the simplest sounding phrase.

My heart races, I reach for my phone to make a call, to tell my boss what I’ve found. It wasn’t long ago the Facility had an incident with a Man with a Red Notepad, one in which we learned the core principle of all legends and one which cost many people their lives: that legends evolve.

If the Jagged Janice legend has evolved, we need to allocate additional resources to locating it and neutralizing it. I continue to scroll, noticing many of the anecdotes have been posted in the last week. Several, in the last few days. If even half of them are true, it'd imply highly increased activity on Janice's part.

I hear another knock at the door—three soft raps. I curse, kicking off from my desk and storming to the door, phone still pressed to my face waiting for my boss to pick up. Once more, I swing it open, and once more, I look down a cold, empty hallway.

I slam the door shut and stalk back to the table. My phone continues to ring, and my boss continues to ignore my call. It's really not like her, but I tell myself to relax. She's probably sleeping. According to my watch, it’s late as hell— 3:34 in the morning to be precise. That makes me an asshole, maybe, but this discovery is too big, too dangerous to ignore. Janice is out there, and she’s on the move.

Three more knocks ring out. These are softer than before. More gentle.

Almost taps.

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bonesandthebees · 5 months

Note

Then there’s what we can get from the scenario itself. It’s very interesting. It’s a losing battle so being able to turn it around shows a lot of skill. Also it’s very specific, so when Phil was explain I stopped reading like “trying to comprehend and memorise all of this in one go seems like hell”.

Anyway, Quackity is smart, but kinda non-confrontational. He similarly wants to avoid casualties by trading for food with the civilian. Assuming that they would hate being occupied by their own forces is fair, but committing treason needs a lot more factors than that and a specific situation. If you are sending in people to sneak around, they might as well just try to steal food for everyone or scope out the town.

It also makes a lot of sense for Quackity to say this given his alliance to Schlatt. He puts value in money. He thinks you can get a lot done with the right number. This is why we works with Schlatt and gets his support. Worst case the man can threaten to withdraw his support of the crown if Quackity doesn’t get chosen.

Niki is so ruthless and I love that for her. I also love Wilbur and Techno being the only people to know. For once Wilbur had a one up on his father. It also shows how much she truly holds herself back. Obviously that’s what she thinks is needed to win both that battle and this exercise. For someone so aware for what people think of her and how much she needs their support, she cares surprisingly little about what the enemy’s civilians think of her.

While it shows that she can make the hard decisions and do what it takes to protect her country. It also makes it look like she is bad at thinking ahead. If you burn the temple, the people will be upset. When the news spreads, it will rule up the rest of the country too. Might want to make them fight harder or result in the people trying to sabotage them as revenge.

I love how she stands up to Phil (several times). It’s something Wilbur could learn from. She doesn’t let him interrupt her. She finishes her idea and when he doesn’t agree she sticks to her guts. Essentially she tells him that she doesn’t care about his opinion, but still in a ‘polite’ way. This probably knocks her down in Phil’s best heir list since he wants to get Wilbur a puppet king. Also he knows from experience how dangerous a monarch that doesn’t listen to their consul can be.

Also, of course Wilbur has already been there before (and is once again there even though he doesn’t need to be). Niki has been too. And them keeping each other away is cute. Also I didn’t miss that you put them on opposite ends of the table and the implications.

Lastly, I think what this chapter as a whole is about, is the start of Wilbur’s shifting mindset. He still can’t stand Tomys, but he can see where his value lies. Both as a monarch as a puppet. He’s not quite there yet. For a multitude of reasons, but it’s shifting.

(3/3)

-🌲

do you know how long it took me to come up with that scenario in the first place. it's so complicated and I had to think of so many factors to try and be able to show off the aspects of their personalities I wanted to and just arghhhh it was a nightmare

yes yes you nailed quackity exactly. he puts value in money and bargaining with people. he doesn't want to scare the townspeople into submission, he wants to come to an agreement with them. the power of words (and outside influence) and all that. it was a really smart idea, just not one well-suited for war.

niki is incredibly conscientious what the other people at court think of her, but this is one of the rare instances where she feels like she's able to express more of her ruthless side and make it work to her benefit. while it might have negative consequences later on, in truth niki's is the most realistic strategy out of the three (at least in my opinion). in a situation like this, you have to be ruthless and use whatever you can to your advantage. war is cruel sometimes, and you can't play fair when your army is outnumbered. niki recognizes that.

and in turn with showing her ruthless side, niki stands up to phil. she outright refuses his advice instead saying they will agree to disagree. and in my mind, phil also recognizes that niki's strategy was actually the most likely to succeed out of the three. he just didn't give her that satisfaction because she refused his advice, which tells him more about her than simply what kind of strategy she would use in a war.

hmm... things are certainly shifting. wonder how the l'mannes trip might affect wilbur's perspective on everything?

#ask #tysm as always spruce you are a delight #spruce anon #rose ch 5

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5ummit · 2 years

Text

Banned Tags

When I made my original Tumblr Purge 2: Electric Boogaloo PSA, I knew the situation was bad, but I still had no idea how bad. It was only after I started noticing how many posts were missing on iOS, investigating exactly which tags caused them to be blocked, and making my own list that it really sunk in. Y’all it’s bad. It’s real bad.

While most of the banned tags are at least somewhat logical (nsfw, porn, kink, etc) there are also a significant number that have no relation to “sensitive content” whatsoever. In fact, these tags are so ubiquitous you would be hard pressed to find a single tumblr user that doesn’t regularly use at least some of them, especially content creators. I don’t know how these tags could’ve possibly ended up on the banned list, but my guess based on my findings and tumblr’s general level of competence: a bunch of blogs flagged as explicit were scraped and all of the tags that were used x amount of times were dumped into a “banned tag” database and never checked by a real human. I can only assume that some of these will be walked back eventually once the backlash becomes great enough (as they did in the Original Purge), but until that happens we’re left managing this mess as best we can.

And in case you’re thinking to yourself “surely it can’t be that bad,” here are all of the general/fandom tags I’ve found so far that are now hidden, from both searches and dashboards, on the iOS app (more under the cut):

[Updated Feb 8, 2023]

mine

my stuff/mystuff

my gif(s)/mygifs

my photo(s)/myphotos

my face/myface

my thing

my life

my post

my video

my words

made by me

queue/queued

upload

reblog/reblogged

request

submission

about/about me

self/selfie

answered

tagged

misc

long post

repost

donate

ask to tag

don’t reblog

self reblog

trigger

trigger warning

user

userstream

userveronika

userjessie

usercandy

usertana

userrishi

userrobin

useronce

bbelcher

winterswake

marveladdicts

womenedit

ladiesblr

othedit

dailymlgifs

the winter soldier

alec lightwood

Obviously these are not the only tags that have been banned but they’re the most commonly used for content creators and the least obvious so I wanted to put them right up front to spread awareness.

I’ve been compiling my own comprehensive list of banned tags for the past couple days and was planning to post them, but it looks like someone beat me to the punch and there’s now a whole blog dedicated to collecting them and multiple posts with fairly extensive lists so far! With that in mind, I’m going to continue adding to my list of banned general/fandom tags above, since I feel those are the most important to single out and be aware of, but I’ve decided to forgo posting my own complete list and let @bannedtags take over as the primary resource. This is honestly for the best, since with the extreme number of banned tags that currently exist (and still growing!), I’ve come to realize I just do not have the time, energy, or mental health capacity to continue this project right now.

What I would like to offer instead is a bit more information on how these banned tags seem to work and what you can do to mitigate the damage from this disaster of an update.

There are two main types of banned tags:

Softblocked on all platforms – Posts tagged with these words are unsearchable on all browsers and apps but will still appear on your dashboard (as long as you’re not using the iOS app). These seem to be the same tags that have been softblocked since the Original Purge. On the iOS app, these tags are now hardblocked (type #2).

Hardblocked on the iOS app (as of version 22.5.1) – Posts tagged with these words are unsearchable + hidden on iOS dashboards. This applies to both tags on reblogs and original posts. Also, if the OP uses a banned tag, any reblogs will be hidden on all iOS dashboards regardless of the reblogger’s tags.

IMPORTANT NOTE: The new hardblock system ONLY applies to the iOS app. If you’re accessing tumblr via any other browser or app, even Chrome or Safari on iOS, the only ban that directly affects you is the first one.

How do you identify a banned tag and how do you know which type it is?

The only way to determine if a tag has been banned is to search it. If it’s banned you will generally get one of two results depending on the type. Softblocked tags will appear to be searchable but have no search results (with some sort of cheeky message about not finding anything). Hardblocked tags will display a pop-up saying “This content has been hidden.” There is no way to know if a tag has been hardblocked on iOS without searching for it on the iOS app.

Softblocked on all platforms (+ hardblocked on the iOS app):

Hardblocked only on the iOS app:

This message system is a good rule of thumb but it’s not a 100% foolproof way to know which type is which. The only way to know for sure is to search on both iOS and another browser/app. If the tag displays search results in a browser but not the iOS app then it’s only blocked on iOS.

In addition to the two types, here are the basic “rules” for how all banned tags seem work as of right now, at least that I’ve been able to discern through trial and error since there’s no explanation provided anywhere:

Only tags are searched for banned content. This means you can still write whatever you want in the body of the post without fear of it being blocked.

Sometimes banned words embedded in a longer tag will result in the post being blocked, but not always. This especially seems to be true if the banned word is the first word in the tag. For example, the tag for the movie “single all the way” appears to be banned because it includes the banned word “single”. For this reason, it’s safest to just assume you can’t use a banned word or phrase anywhere in a tag unless you’ve checked it and know for sure it’s safe.

Banned words merged with no spaces are not recognized as banned content unless that specific combination has also been banned. For example, “sugar daddy” is banned but “sugardaddy” is still searchable.

So what can you do if you find out one of the tags you’ve been using regularly is now banned and your old posts are hidden to a large percentage of the userbase?

Luckily there’s an extremely handy website called Mass Tag Replacer that allows you to find and replace any given tag on hundreds of posts in seconds! You do have to give it read/write access to your blog, but you can revoke the access at any time. I’ve used this website for many years and never had any issues with it.

As for how to search a banned tag? The @bannedtags blog actually discovered some semi-workarounds: adding apostrophes around the tag (ex: ‘nsft’) or adding a period after the tag (ex: nsft.). I’ve tested this and can confirm that it generally works (at least at the moment), but the results can be spotty. Still, it’s better than nothing!

This whole situation is very new and in a state of flux so I’m going to continue my research and keep this post updated as we learn more.

#tumblr #I'm sure there's lots of posts about this now after my PSA got so much traction #but I'm posting my own anyway in case any of this isn't covered elsewhere #tumblr purge 2: electric boogaloo #my words #wendy's help desk

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bluerosesburnblue · 3 years

Note

I don't suppose you could explain the ending for khux for me?? i've watched it and i've been following the translated storyline for it and this ending just. does not make a ton of sense to me. i can usually figure out kh endings no problem but this time i'm just lost.

Isn't that just the state of the writing for it, where even people familiar with the series are having trouble understanding it. And, of course, the game dies as it lived: screwing over Global so we can't even compare/contrast with an official English version yet to see if it's more clear

Anyway, sure, I'll try to break it down scene by scene (Note: these aren't the actual scene titles, I just needed a way to delineate them so I made titles up)

Scene 1: The Master and Luxu

The update begins with a continuation of the past flashbacks expanding on the Case of Luxu and the Master of Masters' instructions to him. He explains that he knew that Darkness could only truly be defeated in the future, and so he made sure that Keyblade wielders would exist to fight it by recruiting many Keyblade wielders in Daybreak Town (as per the start of KHx) and then using the Dandelions to stall Darkness's takeover and give them time to make sure that the Keyblade legacy would live on. As Luxu turns to leave, though, the Master stops him with one more bit of information that he feels Luxu needs to know

He explains that back when he was younger, the being known as Darkness tried to gain the advantage in their battle by becoming incorporeal and attacking people's hearts instead of their bodies. There were 13 of these original Darkness beings, and because they lack bodies they aim to win by quantity and so created the Heartless as lesser, but more physical versions of themselves. The original 13 still haven't given up their desire to regain a physical form, however, and so they target those with strong hearts to take their bodies for themselves

The Master of Masters, knowing this and knowing that something without a physical body can't be destroyed, came up with a plan. He took in six children, his apprentices, and raised them to be a prison for Darkness. To foster light so strongly within them that Darkness couldn't possibly taint it, and then seal the strongest 7 of the 13 Darknesses within himself and his students, trapping the Darknesses inside their impenetrable hearts of light. Then, he instigated the Keyblade War. This is only my interpretation of the line, but it sounds to me like the purpose was to get the Foretellers killed in the War and the Darkness sealed inside of them along with them. How this relates to them coming back in KH3 is unclear

When Luxu asks if the War and the idea of a traitor were necessary, the Master goes on to say that the purpose of making the Foretellers believe there was a traitor was to instill negative emotions like fear and doubt in them. Darkness feeds on those emotions, and so by making sure that his students would produce them and yet not have their light tainted, he would attract Darkness into their hearts by giving it something to eat, only for it to realize that it was trapped in light that couldn't be consumed. The infighting amongst the Foretellers was bait to lock Darkness in their hearts the entire time

After that, there's only six left and so the Master chose five individuals, the Union Leaders, to be the uncorruptable lights that would house the weaker Darknesses. The final one, he would simply trap in the Data Daybreak Town

At this, Luxu flies into a rage at his master, angrily shouting that he can't possibly accept a plan that sacrifices so many people, but the Master stands up and starts talking over him. He's made it clear that he doesn't see Darkness as human, and he's seen this inhuman thing take countless lives, including people he's cared about. He doesn't believe them to be heroes, and he doesn't care. The entire purpose is just to ensure that in the end, humanity is what survives the war. He knows it's a tragedy, but for one who believes that tragedy can't be fully avoided, this is a solution that will at least save some

Luxu accepts this answer and leaves, but behind his back the Master muses on what Luxu, the traitor, needs to do. Luxu was the traitor from the lost page the entire time, given a role to take him out of the infighting so that his identity as the traitor wouldn't be discovered (or at least, that's how it seems to me considering that he needed the Foretellers to fear and doubt to attract Darkness to them)

Scene 2: Fleeing Daybreak Town

We now cut to the real Daybreak Town in the present, where Lauriam, Elrena, Ventus, and Brain have just emerged from the Data Daybreak Town into the real-world version of the lifeboat room. Daybreak Town is breaking down around them, about to be fully consumed by the aftermath of the Keyblade War which had been temporarily staved off while the Data simulation was running

Brain is attempting to enact his plan to extract all of the Dandelions from Data Daybreak Town and bring them into the real world, but he's worried that there won't be enough time to actually do it before the simulation shuts down and the real Daybreak Town is destroyed. The only thing he has time to do is get their three remaining friends (Ephemer, Skuld, and Player) out to the real world, and the only way that he can think to do this is to send Lauriam, Elrena, and Ven away to the future and to safety and then send the remaining lifeboats back into the datascape so that there's enough for the three trapped in there to use

Brain is willing to stay behind to man this operation, but he wants to ensure that at least one of the true Union Leaders (Lauriam) manages to live on in case things go wrong and save as many of them as he can, so those going to the future must be sent first. Lauriam, etching his mission to finally find Strelitzia (or even just her data) into his heart, departs with Elrena and Ven. Once they're gone, however, Brain notices someone enter the room and turns to find Luxu approaching him

Scene 3: Those Trapped in Data

We now cut to Player, Ephemer, and Skuld in the data version of the lifeboat room, contemplating how the others are doing. Just as they muse about how quiet the end of this world feels, Player turns to find that four of the remaining six Darknesses have entered the room (presumably the other two are the one sealed in Ven and the one that Luxu was fighting in the real world and who helped Maleficent, who seems to be gone by the time Brain and the others end up back in the real world)

The Darknesses, it seems, have come to politely ask the gang to open up a way out of the Data Daybreak Town for them, so that they can spread to other worlds. They don't want to fight, and obviously even if they did they'd win, so just open a gate for them to escape with already. They could always just take over Ephemer's friends and force him to watch as they rip them away until he complies

Ephemer mocks this and moves in to attack, but before he fully commits he whispers his plan to Player: he and Skuld will hold them off to buy time for Player to get into the last pod and run. To his shock, however, Player begins mimicking Darkness's speaking patterns and then goes to attack their friends. It seems that Darkness has done to Player what they did to Ven, taking them over and forcing them to act out. Player is now their bargaining chip; they'll only give Player back if Ephemer opens the gate. And since Darkness can only be defeated if it has a body, their options are to give in or destroy the possessed Player

This initiates the final boss fight against Ephemer and Skuld, Player's dearest friends who have been with them since before the war

And the duo prove no match for the Darkness-possessed Player, who taunts them about not just leaving when they had the chance. Ephemer begs his friend to stop as Player goes in to finish off Skuld, and in his desperation to protect one friend, he opens up the portal to Game Central Station and forces his fallen friend though. As it closes, Ephemer breaks down in tears, muttering apologies to the friend that he was unable to save

Scene 4: Luxu and Brain

We cut back to where we left off in Scene 2, with Luxu confronting Brain in the real lifeboat room. He introduces himself, and Brain is taken aback that one of the missing masters has finally returned. Luxu asks Brain if he's a Union Leader, and when Brain confirms that he is, Luxu then gestures to the missing pods and asks where the others are. Brain tells him that one escaped, and the other two are still trapped in the data. Luxu's confused; there should be five Union Leaders, but Brain only listed four. He asks what happened to the fifth, and Brain confirms that they were struck down

Luxu assumes that Brain is going to make his escape, but Brain denies this. They have a friend who he calls a Dandelion (even though Player did not consider themself one) who is trapped alongside the other two Union Leaders, and he intends to get all three out no matter what. Furthermore, Brain has no intention of using one of the real lifeboats. Rather, he has resigned himself to staying behind in the past and finding some way to survive the end of the world to eventually extract the rest of the Dandelions from the data as well, and wake them from their data sleep

Luxu, however, has some bad news. While normally that would be true, the Data Daybreak Town was designed to lock Darkness away. Once it's locked up, nothing will ever be able to get out of it again. If anything could get out, then Darkness would as well. It was meant to be a grave for an intangible being

Not only that, but Luxu expresses doubt that Brain has properly prepared for his friends who use the lifeboats to awaken in the future. What does Brain plan to use for mediums? Who are the memories going to come from? Brain doesn't have an answer, but he has to do this and he's willing to put his life on the line for it

This seems to earn Luxu's respect

Scene 5: The Two Who Remain

We now resume with Ephemer and Skuld in the data lifeboat room, having just sealed Player away. The two real pods that weren't used yet are digitized and sent to Ephemer and Skuld to use for their escape. Ephemer picks up the weakened Skuld and places her in a lifeboat, then looks forlornly over to the one on the other side of the room. The one meant for Player. Then he reclines back into his own pod and the two leave the Data Daybreak Town

Scene 6: "You're So Gullible"

We now join Player inside of the familiar tunnel that joined the Data Daybreak Town to Game Central Station

The four Darknesses swarm around Player, commending them for goading Ephemer into being desperate enough to open up a gateway for them, implying that Player was at least partially in control by the end of the fight. In a bizarre way, they seem to be trying to help Player as they warn them they must cast off their body if they don't want to be destroyed by the simulation shutting down

Player laughs

They ask if Darkness is always this easy to trick. After all, it can't go anywhere without a Keyblade and without a body it can't use one, either, which is why it needed one of them to open a path for it. Player turns, and locks the end of the pathway that leads to Game Central Station. And since Ephemer sealed the Data Daybreak Town end when he cast Player and the Darknesses through the portal, all five of them are now trapped in this space between worlds on the cusp of shutting down along with Data Daybreak Town. This was Player's plan all along, opening their heart up just enough for the four Darknesses to try and use them as a host and then provoking their friends into sealing them away and taking Darkness with them

Darkness flies into an anger-fueled frenzy but is unable to do anything to escape. Player collapses, and Chirithy appears. Petting them much like they did during the Keyblade War, Player apologizes for forcing Chirithy to be sealed away with them since their hearts are bound. Chirithy shakes their head, signaling that they don't hold it against Player, and the two go in for a final hug and are bathed in light

Scene 7: The Destruction of Daybreak Town

Back in the real lifeboat room again, Ephemer and Skuld emerge and are met with blaring sirens signaling that the world is at its end. The other are gone, including Brain and Luxu, and the two have no idea what happened to them (or that Luxu was involved). They simply hope that they made it out safely, and decide to check outside just to see what's going on

They're met with the destruction of Daybreak Town. Smoke is everywhere, the sky is red, and pieces of debris are being drawn into a swirling dark orb in the sky not unlike the destruction of Destiny Islands from KH1. Ephemer decides that they need to leave, now, and Skuld muses about how it takes a lot of time and effort to build something, but none at all to destroy. The two retreat back into the lifeboat room to make their exit

Scene 8: The Master's Plans

We now cut to our final continuation of the flashback of Master of Masters' talk with Darkness from before he disappeared

Darkness muses that it truly does not understand the Master of Masters at all. The Master asks if it wants to, and Darkness replies with a very clinical, "Yes, understanding your enemy is important." The Master muses if it means all of the Darknesses or just the one who is speaking, and Darkness states that it's speaking for all of them

The Master muses for a bit about how small worlds are easy to control. If this small world simply expands gradually over time, then eventually there will become parts of it that the light can't reach, but Darkness will have free reign over anywhere it pleases (much like real light can only shine so far, and anywhere it doesn't reach is filled with shadow). This skews everything in Darkness's favor when vying for control and is precisely what would happen if the world of the Age of Fairtytales continued to expand

Darkness simply notes that of course it will always be around, that's what "friends" do, but the Master says that sometimes he'd like to be left alone. And so, to get away from Darkness, he plans to flee to a world that Darkness does not know about. One where neither Darkness nor Light can be controlled. Darkness asks what this world is, and the Master says that humanity, even if their lives end, want to believe in a world that exists for them in the future. For him, this is a world of fiction and imagination. This implies that he plans to flee into the world of Quadratum, the fictional world that we learned about in Melody of Memory that exists on the other side of the "real world"

Darkness is clearly lost as it asks if he's talking about the Data World. The Master simply says that even if it started out as fiction, you can make it real. But he won't explain any more. After all, the point is that this is a world that Darkness doesn't know about. It cannot reach it, even if it tried

Of note is that he mimics what the illusory Xehanort remarks about Sora in Melody of Memory by calling this a place where neither your "eyes nor voice" can reach, much like Sora's voice could not reach Kairi in The Final World from Quadratum. His final description of it is as "a world of [symbol]." It's unclear if this is an actual term that is unpronounceable and unspeakable in-universe, or if this is simply done to censor the word for the players

Scene 9: Goodbye

We once again return to the real lifeboat room amidst the destruction of Daybreak Town. As she gets into her pod, Skuld starts sobbing and thanks Ephemer through her tears for staying with her until the end. Ephemer tells her that she can't give up until it's all over. As he goes into his pod, he flashes back to all of the time that he spent with Player, and mutters their name through his tears as their pods close and the room caves in around them

(AND THIS IS WHERE IT SHOULD'VE ENDED BECAUSE IT WAS ACTUALLY PRETTY GOOD UP TO THIS POINT BUT HERE WE GO)

Scene 10: Where Do Dream Eaters Come From?

Player and Chirithy are floating in a white void alongside all of the other Dandelions that were trapped in the Data Daybreak Town and their Chirithies. Some of them are familiar faces, like the "My friends aren't my power" kid and the squad of four kids that Player had befriended and their ex-teammate. As Player awakens, they watch these sleeping Dandelions revert to the forms of hearts that are then eaten by those Chirithies, transforming them into the Spirits seen in Dream Drop Distance

Player's Chirithy explains that because Chirithies are bonded to their Keyblade wielder's heart, they take on a state to match their wielder. If the wielder dies, so do they. And if the wielder falls into a deep sleep, they take on a stronger form to protect it

Contrary to what the fandom is saying, NO, Spirits aren't dead Keykids. Rather, the Chirithies are simply taking their sleeping hearts into their bodies and transforming into a stronger form to keep them safe. This is only my assumption, but I would assume that this is possible since they don't technically have bodies anyway, having been digitized. Therefore, their body-less hearts would otherwise have been sent directly to sleep with no protection, hence the Chirithies moving in

Now, this still doesn't make sense regarding Dream Drop Distance by overriding the lore that all Dream Eaters are simply the form that Darkness takes in Sleeping Worlds, which made sense from a metaphorical perspective of "you sleep at night which is dark, so dreams are darkness and both good and bad dreams are made of the same stuff." And also you can totally craft Spirits and have them explode if they take too much damage, all with zero indication that a keykid heart was involved in the creation process or released on destruction, but whatever, let's just move on

Player asks if this is what will happen to them and their Chirithy, and Chirithy responds that they have a choice. If Player doesn't want to go to sleep, then their heart will be broken down and reconstructed as an entirely new heart to live a new life

Smash cut to an unfamiliar town where a woman in purple with black hair and silver eyes hand over what is obviously a baby Xehanort to a hunched figure in a blue cloak, holding a cane. She sobs. Cut again to the figure in blue holding baby Xehanort standing on Destiny Islands' play island. Cut once more and Xehanort is now his teenage self from Dark Road on the beach of the play island. The figure in blue is standing on the ledge behind him, and as Xehanort stands up to walk to the shoreline, the figure collapses onto the ground. Xehanort does not notice this. Two more cuts, this time to the day that Xehanort found himself in Scala ad Caelum and a chess match with Eraqus

We return to Player, who closes their eyes peacefully and decided to move on to another life. Chirithy is confused, but goes in for a final hug as both of them dissolve into light, Player's heart flying off into the white void

The implication of all of this being that not only did Player reincarnate as Xehanort, introducing reincarnation into a series that it has never been a part of and overcomplicating the lore even worse, but that Xehanort isn't even from Destiny Islands in the first place, invalidating nearly all of his character motivation from the series

This is so bad that it deserves its own post though, so we're moving on

Credits Roll: Scenes From the Game Play Over It

Post Credits: Aftermath

We find our scene in a vast expanse of water, littered with debris. A lone lifeboat floats amongst the rubble. Some houses from Daybreak Town can be seen partially submerged, setting this after its destruction. The lifeboat comes to a stop and opens up, revealing Ephemer's silhouette. He looks around

It's unclear why Ephemer seems to have landed so far back in the past compared to the others, though some people have noted that he also doesn't appear to have lost his body, so it could be that his pod simply didn't activate (note how we only saw it close, not disappear into light like Lauriam and crew's) and that Ephemer didn't time travel at all but simply rode out the destruction of Daybreak Town inside the lifeboat

We see a rendition of the scene from KH2 where Diablo the raven brings Maleficent's cloak to the three fairies and she revives, showing that this scene was, indeed, her coming back from her time travel adventure

Lauriam wakes up in the field of flowers from Dwarf Woodlands, and looks confused and startled as a white butterfly flits about him. The flowers clearly a nod to his element among the Organization

Elrena is shown still unconscious along the cliffs that lead to Maleficent's castle in Enchanted Dominion. Much like Lauriam, her element is represented in the thunderstorm that rages around her

Ventus is shown unconscious in the Keyblade Graveyard, and a silhouette approaches him. Many believe this to be Xehanort finding him, though as of now the figure's identity is unconfirmed

We cut to a scene of Luxu dragging the black box behind him in the Keyblade Graveyard, much like a certain scene from the end of Back Cover. However, this time the scene continues and he removes his hood to reveal Brain's face. The implication here is that after Scene 4 above, Luxu took Brain's body as the first of many that he would steal to prolong his own life. This is why neither of them are seen when Ephemer and Skuld emerge from the datascape; Luxu has already taken Brain's body for his own and made his escape to survive the destruction of the world with the black box

We get a title card, but are treated to one final scene. Brain wakes up (sans hat) in the same town that we saw baby Xehanort being given away in. A hooded figure in strange garb arrives, holding Brain's hat, and asks if he is Brain. At Brain's confirmation, the figure returns the hat and introduces themself as Sigurd (a Norse mythology name much like the other Scala ad Caelum characters so far). They seem to have been waiting for Brain and report that they found him into an earpiece of sorts

Brain is understandably confused, and Sigurd explains that they know of the Brain who escaped Daybreak Town's destruction and that he would appear in this spot on this day. Brain panics, realizing that he doesn't know where any of his seven other friends are and if they made it to safety. Sigurd tells Brain that he's the only one who made it to this spot. Brain, utterly crushed that all of his friends have seemingly perished, listlessly follows Sigurd as Sigurd leads him to their headquarters

On the way there, however, something catches Brain's eye. He sprints to the fountain and looks up at something that's not in the frame in shock. Sigurd explains that this is a statue of this town, Scala ad Caelum’s founder (so Xehanort's actually from Scala...) and the first ever Keyblade Master, Master Ephemer. The camera pans up to show the statue of Ephemer as we know him holding the Master Keeper Keyblade that he got from Brain

Brain is overcome with emotions, and through his tears states that he knows exactly who that is. That's his best friend, and he's so proud of him for rebuilding

This is just my speculation, but what I believe is going on in the final scene with Brain is that when Luxu took his body, he ejected Brain's heart from it. A lifeboat wasn't used up, so Luxu must have either used time travel on his own to send Brain's heart to the future or simply left Brain's heart stranded and waiting in the ruins of Daybreak Town. This would let Luxu have his body, but Brain's stranded heart could make a new one with the proper resources in the future like the other hearts sent via the pods. That's what I think the focus on the hat is about. Luxu is shown without it after he takes Brain's body, and Sigurd has it. So my assumption would be that the hat was the medium used to bring Brain's body back like Maleficent's cloak was for her. It’s possible that Luxu set this up, but I can’t confirm. As for the memories, I couldn't say

I would also speculate that this scene takes place a decent amount of time before Dark Road, since Eraqus has been implied to be a descendant of Brain due to their similar looks. If Brain is in Scala ad Caelum in the past, then he could easily be the grandfather that Eraqus mentioned

My final bit of speculation is that the reason Sigurd and crew know who Brain is is because Ephemer, the founder of Scala ad Caelum and the inheritor of the Book of Prophecies, likely saw when Brain would emerge and set up a system to take care of him, knowing that he wouldn't survive to see him again

Apologies for the length, the ending was 40 minutes long. But, hopefully, I've made it clear which scenes are connected to which and what is actually happening. If it wasn't actually clear, there's two flashback sequences involving the Master of Masters that take place before KHx, the scenes in the data and real lifeboat rooms are running concurrently with each other (Brain and Luxu are having their conversation at the same time as Player is being possessed by the Darknesses, etc.) and everything else is roughly chronological with the exception of the scenes where Maleficent, Lauriam, Elrena, and Ven are revived after time traveling. Lauriam, Elrena, and Ven's scenes all must take place sometime before or around BBS (Lauriam and Elrena for their ages to match up, Ven because he's in BBS). Maleficent's is at the beginning of KH2

#kingdom hearts #khux #khux spoilers #anon asks #liz answers #between the amount it cuts around and the entirety of scene 10 which is really my only problem area i can see why you'd be confused #i think this would actually be a decent ending without scene 10 but scene 10 is SO BAD #it leaves such a bad taste in your mouth for the ENTIRE FRANCHISE that it ends up bringing literally everything else down with it

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bvccy · 3 years

Note

WS + prassius

🥰🥰

Oh my, you had to pick the naughtiest! Ok so this took quite a while to write and I literally just finished. And it is pretty dirty, so warning for smut and filth.

I also have another ask for this prompt but in combination with another, so I will post that next (hopefully tomorrow).

Anyway, hope you enjoy this, my dear! 😘😘😘

— PAIRING: dark!Winter Soldier x female!Reader — PROMPT: Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

She wasn't what he was expecting to find, and by the look on her face, the feeling was mutual. The girl walked in and turned the light on, a bounce in her step as she crossed the threshold, but all cheer left when she caught sight of him sitting at the kitchen table. His metal fingers were resting on the surface, legs spread and clasped with holstered guns. His face revealed none of the surprise that he, as well, felt. He thought there wouldn't be anyone at home.

The Asset kept his eyes on her as she recovered from the muted shock, trying not to look her up and down, though it did not escape his notice how little she was wearing: nothing but a silky nightgown that ended high above her knees. Something at the back of his mind bothered him: when was the last time he'd seen a woman wearing so flimsy? He couldn't remember. Before he could give in to the temptation to leer at her more openly, she spoke to him.

"Who are you?"

The Soldier was taken aback; if she had asked just about anything else, he might have known. He was saved by the sound of the front door opening.

"You're still up, sweetie?" called her father from the hallway. When he came over and spotted their uninvited guest, he understood her silence. "Go to your room, it's alright," he said, clasping his hand around her shoulder. Neither of them took their eyes off the Soldier, but she turned around and left, her naked feet kissing the floor with little plops.

"You wanted to speak to me," the Soldier said, focusing on the scientist now and trying to forget the girl.

"I didn't know you made 'house calls'," he muttered, setting his briefcase on the kitchen counter. "I assume Brock told you what this is about…"

"Let's compare his story to yours."

They met in a period of some vexation at Hydra. Several of their men from the Winter Soldier program had gone missing — sometimes during missions, sometimes on their way back, sometimes when they were sent to look for their missing partners… one by one. It wasn't the Asset's job to speculate on why that was, but without meaning to, he became involved in it. What the scientist wanted, together with some other men and women from various departments, was to take over. They didn't like what leadership was doing but had no way of taking direct command, so their solution was to organise a crisis and push it to the breaking point. Lead to the fall of all the pieces before them, from either paranoia or punishment or purges, until there were few enough left in their way that they could stage their coup. And all those Soldiers that went 'missing' were actually in hiding, waiting for the right time. They were all promised more freedom once their new masters took over, a more respectable service, more control. The way it worked was: once the scientific staff eased them out of their conditioning enough, their friends in the military wing helped organise the 'disappearance', and they would stay in hiding in some locations unknown even to the staff, until they saw on the news the deaths of those they knew to be their current leadership. A few of them had already fallen.

But this doctor had a problem: in case their attempt failed and Hydra decided to punish him for it, which they undoubtedly would, he didn't want his daughter to be a potential pawn. The Asset agreed to be 'disappeared', Brock would schedule the right 'mission' for it, and he would take the girl with him. She was old enough that they could pass it off as her being away with schooling or some internship.

It took a few weeks, but the day arrived, and she met him at the settled time and place. She was standing by her backpack stuffed with clothes, waiting in the snow at a bus stop miles from the city, when he rolled in on the motorcycle. She seemed surprised to see him, as if until then she thought this was a joke. But once it gripped her, what they were about to do, her poise was broken and she seemed close to tears. The Asset called her over and handed her a helmet.

"You're bleeding," she whispered when she got close enough to see.

She must've spotted the cut at the back of his neck from where he'd cut the tracker out. It was stuck onto some truck now, driving far away.

"It will heal up soon. Climb on."

They dumped the bike at a scrapyard where it would be crushed into an indistinguishable metal cube, and took the train west. He had everything they needed to set up someplace new, and they ended up by the Baltic sea. He rented a flat in a worn out apartment complex somewhere on the outskirts of town, and arranged to pay the landlord — who lived on the ground floor — on a monthly basis through the mail slot. Several of the other tenants had a similar arrangement, and broadly speaking, the people in the area seemed a bit shy and reclusive, but it suited the Soldier just fine. They had their aliases set up, and if anyone bothered to ask, he would say she was his niece.

"You're not old enough to be my uncle…"

"How do you know that?"

The place was small, but it was furnished, even had some glassware and bedding left over from the previous occupants, and there were separate bedrooms. The girl came to terms with the situation, eventually. He wasn't sure what her father had told her, but after the first couple of months, it became clear she was expecting this to last much less than it did. The Asset had to live through her waves of anger, fear, frustration, and then worst of all her low, small, sad acceptance.

It almost seemed she had stopped caring, about so many things. The girl slept in and made him have to wake her up, walking in on her sleeping with the nightgown ridden all the way up to her waist, a shoulder strap off, little foot dangling. She wasted evenings in the bath when she was the most upset — it made him worry sometimes, but he walked in on her alive and reading some soiled novel in the tub, dressed in foam like a pouting Venus. And as the winter went and spring rolled in, she didn't seem to care much how she dressed around the house either. Perhaps her father told her things about him — that he was just a mindless weapon — and maybe he was right, but something still bothered him… or, in a way, it didn't.

The Soldier sat by the radio one evening, sewing up a tattered pillowcase as he listened for reports of any familiar deaths. A smile crept on his face as he heard the pitter-patter of her feet approaching from behind. She always thought she was so quiet…

"So what's for dinner?" the girl asked, leaning on the doorframe.

He nodded toward the oven, lit with heat and cooking a familiar looking pot.

"Not rice and chicken breast again..."

"You want the pickled fish instead?" he asked over his shoulder.

The grumpy female ambled in and sat across from him. He looked her up and down and frowned at seeing her in just a shirt and silky robe, lean legs crossed beneath the table.

"If you're so unhappy with the offers, princess, maybe you should learn to cook."

She scoffed at him but looked away. "What are they saying?" she asked, nodding to the radio. There was a second question in her voice, a hope, a fear...

"Nothing relevant to us," he sighed.

"I'll be stuck here forever."

"No, you won't."

"I will... I know I will," she muttered. He finally looked up at her again to see that cold fury and all her nerve, gone, like it most often was these days. Her elbows rested on the table, chin propped up in her palm, nails worrying at her dried lips, and she just stared at the old-fashioned flower pattern of the tacky tablecloth. When the Asset allowed himself to feel something for the girl, he pitied her.

"Look at me," he gently said, putting down his work. Her face was stuck in its despair, but her eyes, still alive, went up to his cold grey ones. "You trust me?"

She sighed, but nodded.

"You won't be stuck here forever."

Her brow creased and she almost shook her head, but instead she simply closed her eyes, blinking back tears. The Soldier almost reached out to hold her hand, but she got up and stormed off to her room before he could.

Underneath their measured conversations, he knew her true fear wasn't about where she lived, but whether her family was still alive. Whether she would still be alive, once everything was over. And he wondered also, if she ever worried about him that way... But, probably not.

He gave her a few more hours, but eventually he had to go and check on her. The food was cooling in the kitchen, but she didn't seem to care. A steady bounce came from her room as he approached it — she often did that nervous thing with her foot when she laid in bed.

Sure enough, she was lounging on her front, reading some book propped on the floor from what he could tell through her half-opened door. The Soldier stopped to look at her, unsure how to approach the girl from quite that angle, and also feeling intently just how tempting it was. Most of the time when he caught glimpses of her body, he thought back sweetly as he leaned against the wall, she'd known it. Sometimes he wondered if she did it on purpose — to provoke him, or annoy him, or show just how mechanical she thought him. There was a sense of power in seeing her this way, and not the sort he usually had over her...

Eventually, her leg settled down and laid quietly beside the other, but still spread. She seemed to be stretching for something, and without meaning to, he smiled. She could be really sweet in these unguarded moments... But then, the girl leaned back. Then stretched again.

It took a while for him to realise she was laying on a pillow, and with her knees propped on the bed, she rubbed her front against it as she read whatever dirty book it was — she probably hid those under her bed. Her one hand gripped the mattress then, elbow up like a young wing, and as the edge of her short robe inched up, her panties came down looser. Soon, he wasn't watching just to drink her in, but felt swallowed wholly back.

Her moves were quiet, smooth, and somewhat clumsy: sometimes her whole chest rubbed against its cushion, sometimes just her hips curved back, tilting with the motion of an unseen lover. Her head leaned up, then down again, burning with frustration. The Soldier no longer cared if she would catch him, but was too lost to touch himself as, slowly, her panties rode down just enough that, between the arches of her thighs and that column of damp cotton, he could see the flimsy tuff of hair that hid her. It appeared and disappeared with each tilt, teasing him in a way that hurt: so close to being off, still clinging to her flesh, moving seemingly not only with her hips but also with a deeper throbbing... And then, she gave a little moan.

And like some siren call of old, it madly pulled him forward — not much, but just enough to move the door, and the noise it made as it inched forward woke her from her fantasy. Her movements stopped, her head turned back, and with one look over her shoulder, she caught him. The girl looked more afraid than he was, and he was just about to mutter some dumb apology, when she started moving back.

The girl either hated him more bitterly than death, or wanted everything from him, because she started her mad movements up again while she kept her eyes on his, rising over her shoulder like twin moons and clouded by her hair. The Soldier, suddenly, felt done with being scared of her, or timid or attempting gentle feelings, because she was doing this on purpose now, but though his anger played plainly on his face and his jaw was set, eyes warning her, a fire burned at the top of his chest that ate away at him, and gave himself to her.

She didn't stop again until, like a rush of winter wind, he stormed into her room. She didn't get to run, because within two steps he grabbed her. Metal digits wrapped around her ankle and pulled her back, then the other hand grabbed her thigh.

"What are you—?!"

"Shut up," he growled, pulling her toward him. "You're a dirty little liar, aren't you, princess?"

"I'm not!"

"Worried you're stuck here forever, huh?" the man hissed, squeezing her bones lightly. "Is this how you 'worry'?"

She had nothing to say at that, and only tried to pull her leg, in vain.

Seeing her quiet but staring back in fury, he growled "Keep going."

"W-wha—"

"Don't stop. Keep going. Finish it."

The loose tendrils of his hair tickled the Soldier's cheeks as he smiled, satisfied but hungrier, when he saw her do as she was told. He kept her legs apart, and awkwardly she braced her hands on the bed, but managed to go back to that lazy, sensuous little movement: forward — down, and back — a little up, while her teary eyes burned into his.

"You trust me?" he asked her. She dared to shake her head this time. "Do you trust me?" he asked again, voice just above a growl.

"No," the girl pouted.

He smirked and didn't care. She was a liar.

The Soldier held firmly on her ankle while the other hand went up, and as he pushed himself up closer, he moved the robe up her back. Then, hand moving down her skin, he pulled her panties even lower, just low enough to tease. She moaned and closed her eyes, but didn't stop — moving for him, right before him, dressed in only flimsy scraps. His hot palm moved down to her hip and stretched her leg out wider, thumb pressing on her skin to open up more for him to see. She groaned in fear and shame, while he let his face fall to the inside of her knee and breathe her in. Slow and teasingly, he kissed his way up her inner thigh, drinking in her choked-off sounds and pleasured sighs, licking the hints of sweat that formed, and now and then torturing himself with the sight of that coveted little centre.

She whined and almost begged, but saw him stopping somewhere at the middle of her thigh, teeth nipping, lips gentling the bites, while his eyes moved between her partly exposed girlhood and her blushing face. She told herself it was to finish faster, but she started quickening her movements, brushing her wet and exposed flesh against the bedding, love and shame heightening, until she felt the coolth of his breath brush against her, and she tensed.

"Quiet now, sweetheart," he shushed her as her moans turned shrill and broken. "What will the neighbours think?"

The girl bit her lip and nodded, but the shivers kept running up and down her body. She tried to pull her leg back up, but his metal hand held firm, and the Soldier kept her spread while he pecked kisses on her inner legs, eyes drinking in the tremors at her core, and every greedy sigh he gave just teased her flesh even more. She laid down limply on the bed when she was done, and seeing her so spent made him finally feel sorry.

The Asset raised himself to join her fully on the bed, and cooed at her as he pet the soft crown on her head. His girl hid her face in the pillow and closed her legs up tight, but he kissed her shoulder and whispered how sorry he was and how lovely she'd been, and slowly he opened her back up again. He pulled her up and propped them both against the headboard, cradling her in his arms and easing the shivers away.

#Winter Soldier fanfiction #Winter Soldier imagine #dark!Winter Soldier #dark!Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes smut #Winter Soldier smut #sugarplum1996 #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots #bv;answers

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

Life As We Know It {Chapter 17}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

It had been a long day.

They hadn’t done jack shit, but a long day nonetheless, thanks to the run in with Tomas.

After eating lunch, Cassian had taken Nyx out to the pool, letting him float around in his little inner tube and splash in the water. He kept a close eye on him and he wasn’t sure he’d heard so many giggles from the little dude in months.

Not even fifteen minutes after they’d come out, Nesta decided to join them, though it wasn’t to play and splash like Nyx. No, she brought a book hat, and tanning oil, but Nyx squealed his delight when he saw her regardless.

After some goading and thinly veiled threats to splash her smutty book if she didn’t get in, Nesta relented and Nyx had the time of his life.

Until he got chlorine in his eye and had a meltdown.

Just like that, pool time was over, and after taking him inside and getting changed, Cassian was lounging on the couch while Nyx played on the floor.

Nesta started up the stairs and said, “I think I’m going to take a bath. Relax from…earlier.”

From that piece of shit Tomas and the things he’d said. Cassian wished he’d of at least said something, but he most wished he’d have throttled him.

Cassian simply nodded and Nesta was off, hurrying up the stairs and shimmying out of her bikini once she closed herself inside of the master bathroom.

She hadn’t been in the warm water with her eyes closed for five minutes before a horrid sound came from downstairs.

One word screamed at the top of Cassian’s lungs, her name.

“NESTA!”

For a moment, she thought she had imagined it. But, then he screamed again.

“NESTA!”

She shot up in the tub and was about to yell back, when she heard, “COME QUICK!”

Panic rose in the pit of her stomach as she jumped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her wet body as she threw open the bathroom door. “I’m coming! I’m coming! What happened?! What’s wrong?!”

“Come on, come on, come on!” Cassian yelled, but it wasn’t fear in his voice - only excitement. “Hurry, before you miss him!”

Nesta rounded the top of the stairs, and froze. A few feet in front of Cassian, on his own two feet, was Nyx, taking slow, steady steps toward his uncle.

Her feet carried her down the stairs in a flash and she was next to Cassian, on her knees, just like he was. At the appearance of his aunt, he grinned, those angelic cheeks rounding out and reached for her.

And he tumbled down.

“Shit,” Cassian muttered and lifted him back onto his unsteady feet, praying they weren’t about to have more tears. But the dark blue eyes that gazed up at him were not tear-filled, just wide and curious as always.

Taking a few more tentative steps, he reached them, leaning into Cassian, but a hand reaching out to take Nesta’s as he animatedly spoke in his own baby language.

“Good job, bubba,” Nesta cried, hoisting him up into her arms and crushing him in a hug. “Such a big boy.”

Nyx giggled and wiggled to be put down.

He wasn’t done just yet.

His feet hit the ground and he was off. He walked from Nesta to Cassian then back again. Every time he fell down, he got right back up and kept on moving.

“Look at you go, buddy,” Cassian laughed, catching Nyx as he made it to him.

“Think he’ll sleep good tonight?” Nesta asked, watching them both with a smile on her face.

“I hope so,” he chuckled, letting Nyx pat him on the face, grinning up at him.

He meandered back across the room, plopping down at his toys and began playing again.

“And I guess we’re done with that,” he laughed, standing up and shaking his head. “He finally walked.”

“Sixteen months,” she sighed, propping a hip on the side of the couch. “I was starting to think he’d never do it.”

“Me either,” he said, sitting down. He glanced up at her—and froze.

He’d completely forgotten she was wearing nothing but a towel.

“Didn’t we have a rule about coming down here nude?” Cassian asked, under his breath.

Nesta’s eyes darted to his. “Pardon?”

His eyebrows raised and he gestured to her towel, and Nesta looked down, as if she had completely forgotten that she was wearing it, too. “Oh, shit, sorry. I was in such a hurry to come downstairs-.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you-.”

“I could’ve put on something-.”

“I was screaming your name-.”

“Screaming my name,” Nesta repeated, her cheeks heating. Last time Cassian had screamed her name, it had been under very, very different context.

Although, she had been wearing little to nothing then, too.

The memories flashed through her mind, and from the way Cassian was watching her, she assumed that they were flashing through his, too.

She watched as his throat bobbed and his eyes left hers, dragging down her body as if he couldn’t stop himself. He met her gaze again and she felt her cheeks heating. Her cheeks, her ears, her neck, her entire body heated under that gaze.

“I’m going to…” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, towards the stairs. “Finish my bath, I guess.”

“Right,” Cassian replied, his eyes still on her. “I’ll put him down in just a few minutes.”

She glanced over at the baby as she backed up toward the stairs. Nyx was indeed starting to rub his eyes, and noticing Nesta’s attention on him, he yawned and reached for her.

Before she could cross the room, Cassian was on his feet and picking Nyx up.

“I can take him,” she protested, but he shook his head, not looking at her.

“You go relax. I’ve got him.”

Nesta cleared her throat and nodded, convincing herself to say nothing more as she hurried up the stairs, clinging to her towel.

She settled back into the bath, even though the water had chilled.

She couldn’t control her breathing.

She thought of that time when he’d caught her in the bath before, right after they had moved in, when he caught her doing intimate things with herself, alone.

Then she thought of the immense amount of pleasure that he’d given her, and how nothing and no one had ever compared to it.

Her heart began to beat a little bit faster, and a throbbing formed between her thighs.

She wondered if Cassian ever caught himself thinking about it, if he ever wanted to do it again.

Judging by the look in his eyes downstairs, the intense way he had been watching her…

Nesta pulled herself out of the tub.

She dressed and pulled her hair into a ponytail atop her head, but couldn’t decide if going downstairs would be a good or bad idea. She couldn’t decide if being around him right now was a smart decision, not when the thoughts in her head were so distracting she couldn’t even focus on the laundry she had neglected to fold for a few days.

Her phone vibrated where she’d plugged it in on her nightstand and Balthazar’s name lit up the screen.

That was another reason she couldn’t allow herself to entertain the thoughts constantly running through her head. She and Bal weren’t in a relationship, they were in no way exclusive and hadn’t had that conversation, but Nesta wasn’t the type to date—or in this case, sleep with—two men at once.

She could hear Cassian down in the living room again, no doubt cleaning up Nyx’s toys and settling down with a beer. She wanted to join him, wanted to curl up on the other side if the couch with a glass of wine and listen to him commentate whatever stupid show or game he was watching.

But she knew that wasn’t a good idea.

So she laid down on her bed, grabbed the book from her nightstand, and read until all of those emotions that Cassian made her feel faded into the back of her mind where she told them to stay.

The next morning, Cassian was on Nyx duty. Since he had the day off, the nanny didn’t have to come, which meant bro time.

First, they went for a jog along the Sidra where both Nyx and Cassian got their fair share of looks from the ladies. Turns out a cute kid was a great way to gain the attention of beautiful women.

On the way back home, Cassian decided to make a detour for some lunch, and ended up pushing the jogging stroller right into Nesta’s restaurant.

He knew where it was, and knew that Nesta was a damn good cook, but somehow, he hadn’t visited the restaurant in the over four months they’d been living together.

It was packed, to absolutely no surprise and when he walked in, he was greeted by an amazing array of delicious smells. Quickly realizing the stroller was going to be a hindrance, he parked it in the corner by the door and held Nyx as he made his way into one of the sitting areas.

“It’s open seating, so please, sit where you like.”

Cassian turned as a deep voice spoke from behind him. The man was watching him, and when he turned, his eyes fell on Nyx. Recognition lit them up for a moment, Nesta having brought Nyx into the restaurant more than once.

“Thanks. Is Nesta free?”

“Last I saw, she was helping out in the kitchen, but I’ll check. Take a seat and I’ll be back.”

Cassian nodded and the man was gone, disappearing through a swinging door to the back.

Indeed, Nesta was manning the grill, an assortment of sandwiches, meats, pancakes and other items sizzling around her. She was reading order tickets and communicating with her line cooks, and everything was exactly as it should be.

Until Helion was leaning on the wall next to her.

She groaned. “Tell me it’s not the lady who claims to find a hair in her food every time she’s here.”

The patron in question was in the dining room, a brunch buffet spread out before her and her friends. Her curly, red hair was piled on top of her head and without fail, she always seemed to find a lone, red, curling hair in her dishes, no matter what she ate and who was in the kitchen. Even though Nesta had no one in her employment with curly, red hair.

“Oh, no,” Helion said, his smirk growing. “There’s a handsome man out front asking for you.”

Balthazar.

Nesta groaned. Even though she didn’t mean to. “Let him know I’m busy, but I’ll be out in just a minute.”

“It’s not him,” he replied, practically singing the words. “This one has a very cute baby with him.”

She was moving before he’d finished speaking, hollering at one of her cooks to take up her place on the line.

When she went into the dining room, Cassian was sitting in a booth, Nyx in a high chair at the end of the table next to him.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Nesta crooned as she approached.

Nyx’s head whipped around at the familiar voice as Cassian looked up from his menu. Nesta was lifting Nyx out of the high chair when Cassian said, “We were out and about. Someone was hungry.”

Nesta chuckled. “Was that someone you or the baby?”

“Fine,” Cassian said, grinning. “Two someones were hungry.”

Nesta snorted as she kissed Nyx’s cheek. “Couldn't have cleaned up before coming in here?” She asked, nodding to Cassian’s damp t-shirt.

He shrugged his shoulder. “This was on the way home. You should be glad we graced you with our presence.”

“Right,” she laughed softly, sitting Nyx back in the high chair and buckling him in. “Any idea what you want?”

He was flipping through the menu, and honestly, every damn thing he saw looked delicious. He smiled up at her. “Surprise us. I can’t choose.”

Smirking, she took his menu and said, “Chicken livers and brussel sprouts, coming right up.”

He rolled his eyes as she walked away, but she entered their order into the system and returned to the table, sitting down in the empty booth seat across from him.

“He have a good morning?” She asked, holding Nyx’s outstretched hand and letting him grip her thumb. He shook her hand as hard as he could and grinned up at her, babbling excitedly.

“Aside from the blow out he had this morning, I’d say so. Which he found very amusing that I had to clean up” Cassian chuckled, rolling his eyes. “This is the only kid who laughs while he’s covered in shit, I swear.”

Nesta shook her head, laughing softly.

Cassian took the chance to look around. “This place is great, Nes. The only thing it’s missing is a bar.”

Nesta looked around with him and nodded. “I’ve thought about it quite a bit. Don’t wanna mess with licensing. I’ve already got too much on my plate around here.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “You just gotta get someone to run the bar, that’s all. You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know.”

Nesta looked back to Cassian. “Someone like you?”

“Handsome, smart, with a high knowledge of what it takes to run a bar?” He asked. “Yeah, someone like me.”

She narrowed her eyes and nudged his shin with the toe of her shoe. “Don’t get too cocky. If you decide to leave your bar and want a new project… Sure, I’ll add a bar.”

Cassian blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.”

Nesta shook her head. “I’m always serious.”

“At one time, I thought that was true,” Cassian muttered.

His shin got another nudge.

“I’m serious,” she repeated, with a quiet laugh. “Shockingly enough, you’d be one of the few people I trust to let into my management.”

He stayed quiet for a minute, long enough that she glanced at him from where she’d been looking at Nyx. He was chewing on his bottom lip and she had to physically restrain herself from reaching over and working it out from between his teeth. Feeling her attention on him, he looked at her, and said, “We’ll talk about it more at home, yeah?”

Nodding, Nesta replied, “Of course. But don’t just do it because I said something, I don’t want-.”

“I’ve actually been thinking about opening my own place for while,” he murmured, and then quickly added, “Not that this would be my place, it’s yours, of course. But I’ve got savings. I can help with any applications and licensing and renovations that need to be done. Not to mention, it would be an investment in a growing business. That always looks good in a portfolio.”

Nesta smiled. “Like you said, we’ll talk about it at home. I’m gonna go check on your food.”

“Please do,” Cassian said, waving her away. “I’m starving.”

With a roll of her eyes, she stood up and walked toward the kitchen, shoving Cassian’s sweaty head as she walked by him.

Helion was waiting by the kitchen doors. “Flirting, how cute. It’s like watching two horny teenagers.”

“Fuck off,” Nesta muttered.

Helion only grinned and followed her into the kitchen. “Admit it. You’ve got the hots for hot uncle.”

“I can fire you, you know,” Nesta said.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, right on her heels. “You’d be bored to death here without me.”

She didn’t need to bother telling him he was right. On either front.

Nesta was beat by the time she got off. It was an effort of will to make it home before she fell asleep, but as she parked her car in the driveway, she nearly sighed in relief. Cassian had said he’d handle dinner, so she knew that a glass of wine—and hopefully, an uninterrupted bath—was in her future.

She hadn’t expected to find Cassian on his hands and knees as soon as she came in the door.

He looked up at her, eyes wide and said, “Uh, hey. You’re home.”

“I am,” she replied, chuckling. “What are you doing?”

He hesitated before saying, “Playing hide and seek with Nyx.”

Nesta blinked. “Hide and-? Cassian, he’s one.”

“I left him on the floor with his toys and I went into the kitchen for thirty seconds to check on dinner,” he said, standing up.

She waited for him to go on, not understanding. And then her eyes widened. “You lost him?”

“He’s not lost,” he said, holding his hands up. “We’re playing hide and seek.”

“Cassian-.”

“He’s one, Nesta, he couldn’t have gone far-.”

“He walks now!” She cried, tossing her purse on the bench by the door and hurrying into the living room.

A giggle sounded from the other room, and they both sped around the corner where Nyx had made himself perfectly happy.

In the laundry room, Nyx sat in a pile of Nesta’s laundry, waving her underwear in the air.

As Nesta let out a relieved breath, Cassian chuckled. “Atta boy.”

Nesta whacked Cassian on the shoulder before picking Nyx up and freeing her panties from his grasp.

He immediately started crying.

“Way to take his toy away,” Cassian muttered.

Nesta shot him a look.

Cassian shrugged. “I would’ve cried, too.”

Nesta tried her best not to laugh, but failed. “You’re ridiculous.”

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but the smoke alarm near the kitchen began to blare.

Nyx’s cries got louder and Nesta stopped Cassian, giving Nyx to him and hurried into the kitchen, pulling a pan of burnt French fries out of the oven and opened the back door and the door leading to the garage. She got a kitchen towel and was waving the smoky air away from the smoke alarm, and after a minute or two, the incessant blaring ceased.

Leaning back against the counter, she took a deep breath and looked at the doorway, finding Cassian standing there, Nyx still in his arms, though the tears had stopped. He was cringing, expecting her to start yelling any moment—.

But Nesta took one look at the charred French fries and started laughing. Deep, belly laughs that made her stomach hurt so badly she doubled over.

Cassian turned to the living room, getting Nyx set up in his playpen, and walked back into the kitchen, where Nesta was still laughing with her hands on her knees, trying to get air down.

“You find something funny, Archeron?” He asked, pausing in front of her. Even he was unable to stop the small smile on his face.

“French fries?” she asked, unable to catch her breath. “You— You burnt frozen french fries? How long have they been in there? Two hours?”

Cassian looked behind him at the clock on the stove and rubbed the back of his neck. “I like them crispy.”

“Oh, they’re crispy,” Nesta promised, straightening her back, small bouts of laughter still finding their way out. “They’re really damn crispy.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, shaking his head. He pulled a series of paper towels off the stovetop and revealed a tray of chicken nuggets and a pot of cooked broccoli. “At least I didn’t burn everything.”

“Chicken nuggets and broccoli?” she asked, her grin still wide. “Kids barely old enough to eat solids and we’re already having kid dinners?”

“Kid dinners?” Cassian repeated. “You’re lying your ass off if you’re telling me that you don’t enjoy a big ass plate of chicken nuggets.”

Nesta laughed, shaking her head. “They’re dinosaur shaped!”

“The dino ones taste better!” Cassian protested.

“We’ll see about that,” Nesta said, and just as she looked up at Cassian, she realized how close he’d stopped from her.

He couldn’t have been more than a foot away, but he felt much closer.

Nesta’s laughter died down, although that light feeling in the pit of her stomach remained.

One of his hands was braced on the counter she leaned on, and though he wasn’t caging her in, she couldn’t help but stare up at him.

“At least it’s not breakfast again,” she murmured, noting the way he was staring at her, too.

“You’ve never complained about my breakfast,” he said, swallowing roughly.

She tracked the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed. “Well, you’ve never burnt it, so.”

The corner of his mouth twitched and she knew he was trying his hardest not to smile. He opened his mouth to reply, but Nyx started talking from the other room, babbling and nonsense and baby language reaching them.

Cassian seemed to realize how close he stood to her and backed up a step, clearing his throat. “If you want to grab him, I’ll put some fresh fries in the oven.”

Nodding, Nesta said, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m making them crispy, though,” he said, as she left.

Nesta snorted as she shook her head and lifted Nyx out of his pack n play. “Your uncle is nuts. Yes, he is.”

Nyx’s grin melted Nesta’s heart.

Forty minutes later, once the french fries were sufficiently crispy, the three of them were sitting at the table, eating dinner. Nesta didn’t mind it, not one bit, the fact that they sat there every night and ate together.

It was almost as if they were a family.

An odd, dysfunctional, interestingly beautiful family.

#snacmc lawki #snacmc collabs #life as we know it #lawki #snelbz tacmc collab #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #minific #asks #request #prompt fill #prompt fic #harry potter #harry james potter

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Note

hiiii! 24 or 38 for fluff 🥰

Prompt 24: "This reminded me of you."

Prompt from this list - I am still taking them if anyone wants me to write more about these two idiots in love.

This is dedicated to any of you who love Girl Dad Aaron.

Words: 1.7k (it got away from me a little)

Warnings: So fluffy it might rot your teeth

It starts the moment Eliza is born. Emily was laying there, her legs still up in stirrups, her chest bared to a room full of strangers and her husband, as her baby was handed to her for the first time. She held their daughter, Eliza, to her skin with shaking hands and wouldn’t have been able to stop the tears that streamed down her face even if she wanted to.

Emily stares at her, unable to take her eyes off of her daughter. She was bright red and squawking, protesting at the shock of being born. But she was beautiful. She had a shock of dark hair on her head and her fathers frown.

“Hey, baby.” Emily says, cupping the back of her daughter’s head. “Hi.” She tears her eyes away from the baby to look at Aaron, the tears still falling when she takes in the look of pure adoration on his face. “Aaron, look at her.”

That’s when he says it for the first time.

“She’s just like you.”

____________

Aaron semi-retires not long after the birth of their daughter. An attempt to learn from his past with Jack, and recognition that both parents in the home couldn’t be away for days at a time. It’s an argument that lasts almost the first 2 months of Eliza’s life. Which one of them should leave the BAU. Ultimately he wins, and he stays home with the kids whilst Emily continues to work to bring down the worst criminals the FBI dealt with.

Aaron guest lectures at the academy, running a couple of classes a semester. His stories of the BAU fascinating the students. So many case studies he would never run out of material.

He wakes on a Saturday alone in his bed, Emily away on a case that had dragged on a few days longer than she had hoped.

He sighs as he walks downstairs, stroking Sergio’s head as he walks by, briefly popping his head into Jack’s and then Eliza’s bedroom to see they are empty. He follows the sound of Jack playing video games and finds him in the den, his eyes fixed on the TV screen.

“Morning, Jack.”

“Morning, Dad.”

Aaron smiles when his son doesn’t even look at him. “Pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sounds good”

“Where’s your sister?”

Jack shrugs, still not looking up from his game. “I don’t know, she was playing with her toys last time I saw her.”

Aaron shakes his head at his son.

He hears giggling before he sees her. He enters the kitchen to see his three year old sitting on the kitchen counter, her hand literally in the cookie jar, as she smiles at him with chocolate all over her face. She was still in her pyjamas. The hair he had neatly braided the night before in disarray.

She was so much like Emily.

“Eliza.” He says, unable to stop himself from smiling at her. Aaron was wrapped around her finger and the whole family knew it. Emily often made fun of him for it, playfully teasing him as she correctly said their daughter could get away with anything. “How did you get up there?”

“Daddy’s silly.” Eliza says as if it answers his question, as she laughs at him in a way that is so Emily it makes his chest bloom with love.

He spots the stool from the kitchen island dragged over to the counter near where she is sitting, and realises she had pulled it over to climb up there. He digs his phone out of his sweatpants and opens the camera.

“Come on, smile for Mommy.” He says, pointing the phone at her.

“Mommy!” Eliza says, delighted, hands, covered in chocolate, reaching out for the camera.

He quickly snaps a photo and sends it to Emily, captioned “This reminded me of you.”

____________

Emily’s phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, smiling when she sees the photo from Aaron. Her heart aches when she sees Eliza, her wide smile as she reaches towards the camera, half a chocolate cookie smashed in her tiny hand.

“You ok, princess?” Derek asks, bringing her attention back to the room. Emily rolls her eyes at him before she puts her phone back in her pocket.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? If you need a break-”

“Derek.” She says, voice firm. “I’m fine. You’re worse than Aaron.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Just because he’s not my boss anymore doesn’t mean I want to explain to him why his wife got sick at work.”

Her glare shuts him up, and he goes back to the point he was trying to make before Aaron’s text had distracted her.

____________

Aaron continues to send her pictures throughout the day. Eliza on top form, mischief flowing off of her at every turn.

She insists on trying to push Jack on the swings when they get to the park, and Jack swings himself gently back and forth, letting his younger sister believe she was doing it.

She gets ice cream all over herself, and ends up running the game she plays with the other toddlers when Jack goes to play soccer with his friends.

Aaron takes photos of all of it, sending Emily all of them.

She calls him that evening, her voice laced with amusement and exhaustion in equal measure.

“Which was your favourite?” He asks as he climbs into bed.

“Oh, definitely the one of her half way through Sergio’s cat flap.” She laughs. “It’s already my new wallpaper on my phone.”

“She’s so much like you, sweetheart.”

“You can’t just send me photos of her misbehaving and say that all the time, honey.”

He has the audacity to laugh down the phone at her, and he knows she will have bitten her lip to prevent her smile even though they can’t see each other.

“But baby, that’s when she is most like you.”

____________

When she gets home it is late, so late it’s almost early, and she sighs as she locks the front door behind her, double checking it is secure before she walks further into the house.

Emily walks upstairs, checking in on Jack as she walks past his room. She pulls his covers up around him a little tighter, presses a kiss to his forehead that he would shy away from if he was awake, just old enough now to find his parents uncool.

She briefly frowns when she pops her head into Eliza’s room and finds her bed empty, momentary panic flooding through her until logic kicks in. A smile on her face when she realises where she will find her little girl.

She gently opens the master bedroom door and her smile widens when she sees Aaron and Eliza in the bed, snuggled together facing where she would usually sleep.

He was such a good dad. She’d always known that, had known it before they were even a couple, but something about watching him with their daughter, the love him and Eliza had for each other, made her ache.

Aaron always told her how much Eliza reminded him of her, but all she saw was him. His stoicism and kindness their daughter embodied. His frown that Eliza had whenever she didn’t get her way.

Eliza was the good bits of both of them, and Emily hoped that the world wouldn’t harden her like it had them.

Emily quickly changes into her pyjamas and climbs into bed next to them, the movement of the bed waking Eliza. The little girl turns over and blearily opens her eyes, looking at her as confusion spreads over her face.

“Mama.”

She shushes Eliza, pulling her into her arms. “Mommy’s here.” She presses a kiss to her hair, tucking her daughter tightly to her side. “Go back to sleep, sweet girl.”

Aaron wakes up to find his wife laying next to him, Eliza asleep on her. Emily is awake, her hand stroking up and down their daughter’s back like she used to do when she was a newborn, only able to fall asleep with her mother’s seemingly magic touch.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Emily opens her eyes and turns to look at him, a sleepy smile on her face. “Hey you.”

He moves towards her, knowing she can’t move without waking the toddler in their bed. Aaron kisses his wife and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. He keeps his hand on her face, stroking her jawline gently.

“I missed you.” He whispers before pressing his forehead against hers briefly.

“I missed you too.”

Aaron smiles at her admission, the lack of a humorous response indicating how tired she must really be. His hand drifts down to her abdomen, his palm pressed to the barely there bump.

“Are you ok? Both of you.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but it’s full of adoration. “We’re both fine, honey.” She smirks at him. “Even if Derek almost did annoy me to death, I’m assuming because you threatened him with some awful fate if he didn’t keep an eye on me.”

Aaron smiles at her, caught out just like he knew he would be. “I may have told him I’d recommend him to the academy for firearm training with all the new recruits.”

Emily laughs at that, and it jostles Eliza, who briefly grumbles before falling back asleep.

Emily looks back up at Aaron, a wistful look on her face. It makes him frown, concern for her spreading through him like it burnt.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah.” She says, nodding. “It’s just, I miss her and Jack so much when I’m gone. How am I going to feel with another kid I’m leaving behind?”

“You aren’t leaving them behind, love.” He says, kissing her forehead. “You’re doing an important job.” He feels her shudder, and he knows her emotions are getting the better of her. He cups the back of her head, his lips still pressed to her skin. “And we have about 6 months left before the baby comes to figure things out if you want a change.”

She nods against him, her agreement silent.

“You could do with some sleep.”

He runs his fingers through her hair until she drifts off, her breath evening out against his skin. He pulls back just enough to look at his girls, his beautiful daughter and his pregnant wife.

He hopes their next baby is a girl too, and that she’s just like her mother.

#hotchniss #hotchniss prompt #hotchniss mini fic #hotchniss fluff #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #just pure family fluff #Girl Dad Aaron #Momily #Demily friendship #CM fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #prompt answered #so fluffy you might loose a tooth

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raindrops-and-tubestops · 3 years

Note

Random prompts - KyaLin: 14. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t see that coming.”

Here you go Nonnie, I hope you enjoy! 💕

“Where is she?” Kya wasn’t wasting time.

The words were out of her mouth as soon as she ducked around the corner of the building. She crouched in front of the younger detective, waiting patiently for his his answer. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Mako looked up in surprise, trying to find a frequency but getting only static from the radio on his hip. He had been pinned down at this corner for the better part of fifteen minutes.

How in the hell had Kya managed to get through?

As if wanting to answer his question, the Master Healer leant around the wall drawing water from the pouch at her hip. With a flick of her hands, that was probably more complicated than he was able to see, she sent a torrent of water out into the skirmish. He grinned as he heard screams and what sounded like bodies thudding against the stone of the street.

Looking back at him, she winked conspiratorially.

“Mako, honey,” she tried again, her voice softer, “where is she?”

He didn’t have to question who she was talking about. He could see the worry behind the blue eyes, all though anyone else only would have seen the determination. Kya needed to get to the Chief, Mako had a bad feeling about all this.

This whole debacle started twenty minutes before the end of shift. A call came over the emergency radio at the precinct that there was an attack on the new clinic just west of the new spirit portal. The Triads were trying to make a statement to the Chief of Police as well as the rest of the city.

They were able to establish a blockade before the fighting reached the inside of the clinic. The doors, front and back were barricaded. The patients and healers inside were safe, some were out here on the front lines working to heal the fallen officers, Kya included.

Mako swallowed, his throat dry and sticky, “The last I saw her, she was swinging on her cables in that direction.”

Kya followed his finger as it pointed across the street, landing on the roof tops of the alley way directly across from them. He watched her run through some things in her mind, maybe calculating the risks of crossing through the battle raging in the street.

As they peeked around the corner, it was clear there were no signs of either side stopping. There was fire flying through the air only to be intercepted by water from an unknown source, pieces of the street and the buildings rippled as they were manipulated by earthbenders from both sides.

Metal from nearby stalls and storefronts groaned as it was manipulated by officers, quickly shaping into flat sheets, encasing the wounded or protecting those volleying off counter attacks.

If she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed the shink of cables being released from their casing and subsequently Lin swinging across the street. She came to rest on the side of the clinic, one hand wrapped around the cables imbedded in the wall and the other gripping the hand hold she created on the brick.

Kya had a momentary flashback of when they were younger and Lin used to grip the walls of the Air Temple Island dormitories in the same manner…it never failed to freak her mother out. She chuckled quietly to herself, feeling the exact moment that Mako spied the Chief as well. The metalbender seemed to be looking for something, she was scanning the foray, clearly thinking she was up high enough to not be noticed.

But someone had noticed her…someone was silently curling a water tendril along the wall, not quite touching the stone. She wouldn’t be able to feel it.

Before Kya could call out, she watched as the tendril wrapped around Lin’s ankle, the look of shock on her face would have been comical in any other circumstance. The Chief was ripped from the side of the wall, disappearing from view behind a large pile of wreckage, her cables hanging lifeless, still attached to the wall.

The next thing Mako knew Kya was running, and then he was too, trying desperately to keep up with her impressive pace. He guessed it was the adrenaline and worry that made her so reckless, but at least he was there. The waterbender was able to doge most of the attacks flung her way as she rushed towards where the Chief was last seen, but Mako did fling the occasional blast of fire, he had to make sure she stayed safe at least.

Kya rounded the side of the wreckage where they had seen Lin disappear, tripping and landing in the water spread across the ground. She managed to keep her footing and pushed off the ground with the palm of her hands. She stopped short and if he hadn’t been paying attention, Mako would have slammed into the back of her.

The Chief was on the ground, lying extremely still..too still, the only thing that kept Kya from dropping to her knees was that she could see her chest rising and falling. Slowly, but it was a win nonetheless. Next to her, with a metal spike sticking out of their chest, was the waterbender Kya assumed had ambushed Lin. They weren’t moving, not even their chest.

Mako gripped her shoulder and brought her back to herself, the surroundings coming back into focus. They sprinted the rest of the way, Kya dropping to her knees next to Lin, barely registering the sting of her battered skin or the sound of Mako dragging the body away from them.

She pulled water from the flask at her hip and began to assess the younger woman’s injuries. A dislocated shoulder, a bruise on her right cheek discoloring the skin around her scars, a possible concussion…not sure how bad that was and two cracked ribs. She would be ok.

“Thank the spirits,” Kya mumbled, hanging her head in relief,

Mako was now crouched beside her, the blue glow of the healing water casting shows on all their faces. He would scan the surrounding area and then return his gaze to Kya and the Chief every so often.

Kya released the catches of Lin’s uniform, knowing just how unamused her wife was going to be when she regained consciousness and found herself in just her uniform pants and under tank. Kya stifled the absurd laugh that bubbled up, practically choking on it.

As the water was concentrated on her left side, the ribs, Kya could feel the awareness returning to her partner, her heartbeat picking up slightly. That was all the warning she got before Lin sat up, her forehead barely missing Kya’s.

“Whoa,” Kya intoned softly, Mako behind Lin instantly, offering her support, “take it easy Chief.”

Lin winced and moved to grab her head, her shoulder and ribs protesting violently.

“What the hell happened,” she groaned.

Kya was now focused on Lin’s head, trying to relive the pressure that was causing her partner to be slightly nauseous. The healer glared at the metalbender, Mako cowered in sympathy.

“Lin, what was Aunt Suki’s main rule in combat?”

The Chief looked at Kya in confusion, whether from the change in topic or from the head injury, Mako wasn’t sure.

The glare deepened, “What was it Lin?”

The anger in Kya’s voice immediately snapped the metalbender out of her daze. They connected eyes, snapping blue to sheepish green, and Lin was reminded of all the times she had seen those eyes. Most notably when they were caught sneaking back onto the island as children and when she did something particularly stupid. Kya may have taken after Uncle Aang in the Air Nomad sense, but her temper was all Aunt Katara.

“Keep track of your surroundings,” Lin sighed as the pressure in her head finally lifted.

“Yes Lin,” Kya continued, voice hard as she moved to the shoulder, “and what didn’t you do?”

Lin followed the movements and relented, “Keep track of my surroundings.”

Mako stifled a chuckled at the clearly admonished Chief…they needed to bring in Master Kya more often he thought.

Kya huffed, “Exactly, now this is going to hurt.”

As soon as she gave the warning Lin grit her teeth, sucking in a breath as Kya quickly reset the joint. The pop making Lin sick to her stomach, the searing pain keeping her from losing it completely. The ache was soon replaced by the cool feel of the healing water, a relief that Lin didn’t know she needed.

“I had the situation under control,” she bit out.

Kya went still, eyebrow raised in a challenge, and Lin had the good sense to back down slightly.

“Before or after that waterbender plucked you off the side of the building like a ripe moon peach?”

The Chief’s cheeks colored slightly, as she looked down at her lap. She started when she realized she was no longer wearing her uniform. The glare directed towards Kya was one for the books, she was not pleased.

Kya huffed indignantly, she could really give a shit right now.

Lin leant forward, taking some of her weight off Mako as the detective went to stand. She nodded towards the boy, a quiet thanks that he returned as he settled into a cautious stance.

“Okay, so maybe I didn’t see that coming,” Lin relented.

Kya didn’t respond, just kept to her task, working to heal her wife. She was furious…and scared, Lin could sense the residual adrenaline in Kya’s system.

She inclined her head, trying to catch her wife’s eyes as she worked on the shoulder joint. When Kya finally gave in and looked up, Lin could see the sheen of tears just along the water line of her lashes. She cursed herself.

Lin leant forward and cupped the back of Kya’s head, their foreheads connecting, the air between them charged with emotion. She could feel Kya shaking, everything in the last hour finally catching up with her.

“I’m ok,” she reassured the healer, her voice gentle, “I’m sorry and I’m ok.”

Their lips met tentatively, soft at first but slowly growing desperate. The need to feel, to know that each other was alright, winning out over decorum. Mako turned slightly, giving them as much privacy as their situation could allow.

New Prompt List 💜

PS: the prompts can be original too 😊

#kyalin fanfic #kyalin #kya ll #kya x lin #lin beifong #lin beifong x kya #avatar the legend of korra #the legend of korra #my fanfic #prompts 💜

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Love Through the Ages (Damian Wayne)

Summary: Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part one of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots. Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans. I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist.

You wait by the platform, tapping your feet to the rhythm of the Little Colonel Bojangles Dance. It's been so long since you've seen the movie but your feet can still remember the steps- much to Damian's annoyance. Your feet patter against the pavement, wet from the spring rain, in a soft rhythm that kept your excitement at bay.

You wave to the approaching cab. The passenger of the cab looks away from you, pressing his mouth into the heel of his hand as his eyes stare out into oblivion. Your mouth quirks at the petulant gesture. You haven't seen each other in two decades and he's still mad about... what was it again? You'll find out soon enough.

The cab stops in front of you.

You bow your head, resting your weight on your umbrella. You grin at his seated form postured perfectly with an ease of a man born with the world in his pocket. He's dressed in a black suit and a dark coat that looked far too thick for spring.

"Long time, no see, little prince." You say in a dialect of Spanish too old for the young cab driver to recognize.

Damian raises his brow, articulating his annoyance. It takes you a moment to realize that it was with the accent you'd chosen. It was inelegant and curt and it mangled the curve of the syllables far too easily. In short, it was your favorite dialect. Rolling your eyes, you try again. This time with a softer, smoother dialect much more modern but still old enough that you could talk freely without worrying about eavesdroppers.

Damian cracks a smile at you. It was wry but soft in the way Damian always was. Your own exasperated smile softens as you look at his eyes, their ever-changing lushness. It's been too long.

You open the door. Damian eases out of the cab handing the cabby what you quietly hope was the correct amount.

But considering the wide-eyed glee on the cabbies face, you can guess that twenty years has done nothing for Damian's spending habits. That was if the tailored suit wasn't a dead giveaway.

You look him over whistling," whose funeral are you going to after the museum?"

"Yours if we're on schedule." Damian deadpans looking at his watch.

You snort, sounding like a piglet in mud. Adoration flickers in Damian's eyes but you miss it as you throw your head back.

"Who has a schedule on vacation."

"People who don't like wasting time."

"That's what a vacation is for."

Damian makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat and you shake your head. Damian wraps his arm around your shoulders. You happily press into his side, reveling in the intimacy of the action.

Damian had been telling you a story in rapid Arabic, the only words you understood were 'Jon' and 'moron', when you pause in front of a pair of paintings. The painting on the left was of Damian, his form drawn in harsh, messy angles. He's hunched over his sketchbook, candlelight glowing softly by his side makes his copper skin and forest green eyes breathtaking. The subject is out of view. The other was a portrait of you dozing off on a workshop table, your flaws lovingly rendered in gentle brush strokes. By contrast, your portrait was lit by the summer sun. Only Damian could make your features look this beautiful.

Vaguely, you remember this.

You remember it only for the countless times it had happened.

"They say that the one on the left is the painter sketching the portrait on the right and that the portrait on the right is of his lover." You say airily. Damian, not one to disappoint, gives you an unreadable look.

Your stomach turns. You drop the subject. Wordlessly, you two make your way to the exhibit.

"Love through the Ages?" Damian asks, crossing his arms.

"Shockingly love wasn't invented by Stephenie Meyer." You say. Damian wrinkles his nose at you and you cover your mouth to hide the scraggly smile spreading across your lips.

"I'm shocked your paintings didn't make it in."

He looks down at you huffing, "it's only speculation."

You're heart twinges at that. You press a frown to your hand.

"It'll be fun, Dami. I promise. Pleeeeeease."

Damian's stern look gives way to a weary half-smile as he capitulates to you.

"I promise it will only be half as nauseating as Dick's attempts to do family bonding."

"Tt, it would take a miracle to surpass that."

You grin. "Perish the thought."

"They say this stardust came from star-crossed lovers as they traveled through space. Oh and this one is a statue gifted by Persephone to Hades."

You drag Damian all over the exhibit. Pointing to specific exhibits with enthusiasm. He has to admit. It's infectious. Then again, Damian's never been able to resist anything about you. This amount of enthusiasm for something so frivolous would have been obnoxious on anyone else but because it's you, Damian's found himself utterly enamored by it.

"This one," You say, pointing to a series of paintings. They were all beautiful, painted in bold colors. The torrent of emotions radiating off of the canvas. "This one was made by an artist torn between three loves."

"Three? She must have been an exceptional artist."

"Probably was but her name was lost." You sigh.

"She’s got exceptional brushwork." Damian hums.

You squint at it. You would think after hundreds of years you would be able to discern that.

"And over there! Look at those postcards!" You say, pointing the three postcards pinned to a cloth in a glass case. One card showed the northern lights, another with a picture of a thick rainforest, another with a large cave, and another with the pantheon.

"They're not well preserved are they." Damian comments, scrutinizing the postcards and noting all the imperfections, the little cracks and tears, the water stains, and odd splotches of dirt.

You roll your eyes, curling your fingers around his arm. "That's cus Hermes supposedly brought them everywhere while he searched for his lost love."

"Quite the romantic. Do you know all the artifacts?"

"Yup."

"I see..." Damian drawls. "Then why are we here then?" Damian winces at how harsh and impatient he sounds.

"Cus Jon said I needed an excuse to get you here and viola. It worked. I knew you'd cross the sea for a rare exhibit."

I would cross the sea for you, no matter how many times, Damian thinks.

"What about this?" Damian points to a golden coin, shaking his thoughts away.

You lean back, side-eyeing him. "Care to guess?" His handsome features furrow as he thinks.

"I think it’s a coin used to pay Charon." He says finally.

You frown. "Good guess." A smug grin curls on his lips. You stick your tongue out at him.

"It’s an old Greek coin to pay the travel into the underworld."

"Why would they want to travel to the underworld?" It's Damian's turn to frown.

"Yanno for someone who's so smart. You're asking the dumbest questions."

"It's a reasonable question." He asserts, his tone oddly defensive.

"Most people can't bear to be apart from their beloved."

Damian hums noncommittally. He understands that. he understands that all too well.

"Like you and Jon." You say grinning.

Damian glares at you. No real anger behind it.

"You two bicker like an old married couple." You laugh.

"So do we." Damian says flatly, stepping closer to you and closing the gap between the two of you. He's looking at you so intensely that your skin sets itself on fire.

"I often think about burying you under the kitchen patio too." Damian sneers, with a sharp grin.

You snap out of your daze. Leaning in close and smiling, your hot breath fan against Damian's face. "Will you do it affectionately?"

The moment hangs still in the air. If you could capture it in amber, you would.

"Huh? This is new." You say, looking down at the glass case.

"How many times have you seen this exhibit?"

You preemptively shoot him an accusatory look. "What are you?"

"Concerned."

"Pfff!"

You lean down reading the plate. "Says here it's a letter from the late 1700s and early 1800s. An unsent letter to lost love."

"Sounds cliched." Damian says, leaning down next to you.

"You've said that about everything."

You feel Damian stiffen beside you. You glance at him. He looks mortified. Your eyes follow his and land on the letter. The calligraphy looks familiar but you can't think of where you've seen the scrawl.

Damian tugs at your shoulder.

"(Y/n), let's go."

You shrug him off.

"(Y/n), let’s go." He repeats with increased urgency.

You shove your palm to his face.

Damian wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You flail and kick out childishly.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne, I will gnaw your arm off.” You hiss but he doesn’t let go. In a last ditch effort to break free of his hold, you wriggle out of your coat. Landing on your ass, you scramble for the glass case.

My beloved (Y/n),

Finding the words to tell you how I feel about you is not an easy feat. I feel as though Ibn Hazm himself would struggle to compose poems to express my feelings for you even then they would be inadequate.

Whilst we are surrounded by such death and misery, here in London, I want you to know that during these dark times, it is you that keeps me a light. It is you that leads me through the void and guides me.

I think I’ve always loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on your beautiful lopsided smile. Yes. Your real smile. The one only a handful of people will ever see. I have been lucky enough to see it every day.

As time passed, I fell more and more in love with you. You have seen all of me. You have seen the monster within me and yet you still stand by my side. Never faulting in your stance.

I wish I had the strength to tell you this, face to face. I wish I could look into your eyes and whisper words of love my immortal beloved.

With Love,

Damian

You stare at the letter uncomprehending. Realization slides off of you like rain off a tin roof. You read it over and over again until each syllable is embedded in your mind. “Damian, what the actual fuck?!”

“I-”

“You dork!”

Damian clams up unable to think of a response. Ok, no. He had a number of responses but none of them were appropriate or witty. He searches your features but the only thing he can make out is shock.

“(Y/n), I was-”

You press your hand to the glass. “How come you never sent me this?”

“The French Revolution.”

“Which one?”

He crosses his arms raising a brow.

“Ok, nevermind. But still, it’s been 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.” You repeat mockingly.

Damian pinches your cheeks in retaliation.

“I was pinning for more than 200 hundred years!” You protest.

“So was I!” Damian says, releasing your cheek.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Damian asks, accusing and curt. You flinch, something vile and caustic rising in your stomach. Damian sees it and grips your hand as you fall away from him. He just got you back. “(Y/n)....”

The fear and hurt melt off of your face. “I thought… I just thought you’d...” You ball your fists in frustration, not quite grasping the right words. But Damian already knows what you’re thinking. He’s seen that look in your face. He’s seen it every time you look at the mirror. It was infuriating to watch you like this. Why couldn’t you see just how perfect you are?

Damian pulls you into a hug, burying your face into his chest and resting his chin on top of your head.

“You are infuriating.” He mumbles into your hair.

“And you’re rude.” You mumble back.

“Yet here you are 400 years later.” He laughs softly.

You two stand in silence for a long moment. With Damian, silence itself was a language. It was one you’d grown fluent in. An unspoken conversation of confirmations and reassurances.

He releases you but holds your hand in his. It feels warm. You shiver and Damian smiles at you, smooshing your coat into your face. Both of you can’t help but laugh.

You step closer to the glass case, pulling him along. Damian follows without resistance, only lacing his fingers into yours. You both stare at the page. His proclamation of love carefully preserved for all to see. You take your phone out to take a picture. Damian shoots you a glare.

“You’re not sending that to Jon.”

“Tim then.”

“No.”

“Fine, for myself then.” You pause seeing the confusion on his face. “In case, you know...” You say waving your hand.

Damian tilts your chin up. “Beloved, I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest flutters. After centuries of inaction, you can feel your heartbeat.

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #vampire au

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drmedicsgamesurgery · 3 years

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Danganronpa Kirigiri Volume 2 Full Translation Part 1

Thanks to DJ Shocker, Shenmen, Chilly, LiarieCC, and Blackflirtlarping. This is a fully fixed up and complete translation with no missing bits.

Danganronpa Kirigiri Volume 2: The Norman Hotel Detective Auction

Chapter 1: Daily Life

Couples dressed to the nines for Christmas Eve wined and dined in window booths, but due to the height of the building, no matter how much I craned my neck I couldn’t see them satisfactorily.

I must have gotten a little carried away, bouncing around the hall to eagerly check out the outside scenery from the windows of this high-rise building, as I felt someone tug on the sleeve of my coat; Kyoko Kirigiri. She gazed up at me, wordlessly, with cool eyes. I felt almost as if I was being scolded.

“Thank you for waiting! Please come this way.” Both Kirigiri and I followed a waiter into the interior of the hall. Suddenly, an enormous Christmas Tree came into view. A fir tree that must have been imported from abroad, decked out in dazzling star ornaments that were determined not to lose to the lights of the city in terms of brightness.

We found ourselves being led to a wide individual room.

An antique candle holder stood in the center of a table draped in a white cloth, the candles fully aglow.

Napkins and cutlery for three people were already laid out on the table. And the furthest wall was transparent, giving us a scenic view of the city nightscape.

“Woww! This is amazing!” I dashed over to the glass wall without thinking, and gazed out at the city lights twinkling under the night sky.

“Kirigiri, come here!” I called out to Kirigiri, who stood behind me. She seemed to be hesitating. She looked at me with a slightly concerned expression on her face, then approached the giant window. She looked over the city nightscape with pink tinged cheeks, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the lights of the city.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

Kirigiri nodded.

“Won’t you tell me how you really feel, out loud?”

“…It’s pretty.”

At this point, Suisei Nanamura entered our private room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies. I see you’re enjoying my Christmas present to you.”

By ‘present’ did he mean this view?

I suddenly felt a little embarrassed at taking the bait so quickly and backed away from the glass wall, flustered.

Suisei pulled out a chair with a gesture that made it seem like this was something he was well accustomed to. I lowered my head to him in a quick bow and took a seat. I really wasn’t used to how to act in a place as fancy as this.

On the other hand, Kirigiri seemed used to it. She lowered herself onto the chair, almost princess-like, and gave Suisei a casual nod as her thanks.

Kirigiri continued to surprise me, but I think she was essentially a refined and well-mannered kid. When it came to being a detective and solving cases she became cool-headed and almost difficult to approach, but I wondered if that had something to do with being raised in a family of detectives.

Suisei placed the Santa hat he’d been wearing on Kirigiri’s head and sat down opposite her. He didn’t offer any explanation as to why he’d given her the Santa hat, and Kirigiri herself didn’t react.

Well, she looked cute like that so I had no complaints…

“Well, I am a happy man! Having the honor of spending Christmas Eve with such beautiful young ladies…”

After sitting down, Suisei propped both elbows onto the table and rested his chin on top of his hands, suddenly observing us intensely.

I was bewildered by the suggestive look in his eyes.

“W-what ?”

I suddenly found myself feeling very shy.

Suisei had a face as handsome as an actor - he was an attractive man. I had absolutely no objections to joining him for Christmas dinner-

‘“2,000, 9,800, 23,000.” Suisei suddenly rattled off a series of mysterious digits.

“Huh?”

“The price of your glasses, the price of your coat, and the price of your boots.”

“W-what…? How did you…?”

He knew?

The numbers were more or less correct.

“There are many ways to observe other people, and one of the most effective ways is to judge them by the value of what they’re wearing. Through knowing the value of their material possessions - in other words, their quality - is not a method to be overlooked.”

“I - I see."

“Yui Samidare-kun - for example, in your case you’re confident about your legs, so your most valuable possession is your boots. However, from the way your boots are worn down, they don’t seem to be specifically designed for sports. And you’ve chosen to walk down the path of becoming a detective. Aiming to become a detective at such a young age is probably due to something that happened in your past-”

“O-okay, I got it.”

I put both hands up in front of me, as if to evade Suisei’s words. I don’t think I wanted to hear anything else he had to say.

Suisei’s lips curled into a grin and he spread out his arms while gesturing at the clear glass wall.

“7,445,000 yen. The price of everything you can see from here. Along with the price of electricity for every building. The true essence of everything is so beautiful.”

Suisei gave me a smug wink.

Detectives were really hard to understand.

Suisei Nanamura was a Double Zero Class detective. According to the DSC (Detective Shelf Collection) at the Detective Library, his number was 900. The number nine indicated that he dealt primarily with murder investigations, and his double zero was proof of his skills.

In the past there was a detective who, due to the successful handling of his cases, moved up as far as rank three, but that took over 20 years of his career. For Nanamura to hold a double zero at the young age of 37 was, quite simply, incredible. It was not an honor you earned with half-hearted skills.

“Well then, let’s continue talking about the job over dinner.”

Suisei snapped his fingers, and from behind him a waiter appeared to fill his glass with red wine. Two more waiters also appeared by his side as if they were servants attending to a prince.

Since Kirigiri and I were still underage, we were passed a soft drink menu. I chose orange juice, and Kirigiri ordered a coffee.

“Let’s toast to our first meeting - is what I’d like to say, but allow me to refrain. After all, in our world a toast doesn’t signify the start of something, but the end.”

Suisei took a sip of his red wine.

The waiters began to lay out plates in front of Suisei. Usually when it came to French cuisine, every dish was served one by one, but for some reason they continued to pile dish after dish in front of him.

“10 hours, 28 minutes and 49 seconds.” Suisei suddenly rattled off another series of digits.

“That is the time that’s passed since I opened the letter challenging me to this Duel Noir. The time limit from when you open such a letter to who is victorious being decided is 168 hours. For my own sake, I opened the letter at exactly 10 am today.”

Suisei said with a serious expression on his face. However, he hadn’t stopped eating. It occurred to me that most of the food had already disappeared from his plate.

When did he…?

One plate each was placed in front of Kirigiri and me. If we tried to match Suisei’s pace, the food would be devoured before we could even enjoy it.

“Mr Nanamura, how many Duel Noir challenges have you participated in up until now?”

“This would be the fifth time.”

“The f-fifth time?”

“I can only call it bad luck. Out of all the detectives I know, there’s some who’ve never even heard of Duel Noirs. In fact, it’s more likely a detective will hear of Duel Noirs.”

Naturally, Kirigiri and I knew what a Duel Noir was.

Just a little earlier, Kirigiri and I had been wrapped up in one. A Duel Noir was a game organized by an organization called The Victims Catharsis Committee. Both a detective and a criminal engage in a deadly duel. After receiving a letter of challenge from a criminal, the detective will attempt to solve a case in real time.

Unlike what their name suggested, The Victims Catharsis Committee wasn’t a charitable organization at all. Under the name of providing catharsis for victims of crime, the committee lured participants into their game. It seemed that when it came to recruiting ‘challengers’, they particularly aimed for those who were driven by a need for revenge. In other words, by using those who were willing to go as far as murder, the game unfolded.

The detectives, on the other hand, were chosen out of the names registered on the Detective Index at the Detective Library.

There were approximately 65,500 detectives registered on the list, and their names were public information. It was assumed that The Victims Catharsis Committee summoned detectives from this list according to the difficulty of each case. For this, a detective’s DSC number was used as reference.

“The further you move up in rank, the amount of detectives decreases. Statistically it becomes more likely for one to be challenged to a Duel Noir.” Nanamura placed his fork on top of his plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then suddenly threw them all behind his back. One of the waiters caught the plate while barely moving an inch. With the space he cleared from throwing away his plate, Nanamura placed his two fingers together on top of the table.

Suisei began to stare at Kirigiri and me as if he was observing us.

“I read your file about the case you solved, you two. It was a great case for your induction.”

The Sirius Observatory was our induction case? And yet even now every time I remembered that day I felt a dreadful despair.

“However, the next one doesn’t seem to be so. Looking at the letter of challenge, the culprit seems to not only understand the aim of Duel Noirs far too well, but they also plan to win. That’s a troublesome attitude. Seems almost as if they’re enjoying the game. It’s probably a treat for the spectators as well.”

“Spectators?”

“Oh? You didn’t know? Duel Noirs are broadcast in real time. The spectators watch over them during what’s called a Closed Circuit, whilst eating and drinking together. You could call it a live-viewing.”

Speaking of which, didn’t the mastermind between the previous case say something along those lines?

The Victims Catharsis Committee didn’t just want to play a game - they wanted to offer a show.

“This is all pretty hard to believe. Who on earth would watch a Duel Noir?”

"I can’t tell you exactly who watches them, however there’s no doubt they move in high-class circles. In order to participate in a Closed Circuit, it’s said that the price is equivalent to that of the school fees from a third world country.”

What an incomprehensible and compassionless comparison. We can compare this to the duel in the arenas of Rome. People paid a lot of money to see blood and people killing each other. They want drama. Of course, I don't think I'd like to see that myself, people being killed so brutally.

“By the way, why are you after the Victims Catharsis Committee?" asked Suisei.

"We can't leave such an organization in the wild! " I said with a cry from the heart.

"A great sense of justice, huh?" smiled Suisei. He then turned to Kirigiri. "What about you?"

Kirigiri hesitated for a moment, "There is no reason. Honestly, I haven’t received another invite to do so. "

“Um, a-ah, w-wait we should really be united on this!” I turned to retort at Kyoko. “Wait, are you telling me you aren’t willing to fight the Victim’s Catharsis Committee!?”

“No, I’m just interested in having my detective skills recognized.”

“...Seriously, you’re only interested in moving up the ranks? Are you really satisfied with that? After being manipulated, aren’t you the least bit offended?”

“...I do.” Now that actually surprised me. Still, she was answering me in that usual expression of hers. She wasn’t quite good at showing off her feelings, or rather she has an incredible poker face.

"It's not right to hide your emotions behind a stone face, you know? So just try to deal with this organization with me! Isn't this a detective's job? That we aren’t just limited to dealing with immediate threats!?" I questioned.

"If Yui-oneesama wants me to help her, then I will."

"You're so childish!"

I chewed my lower lip to control my frustration.

"Don't you have your own opinion? Are you just a doll that we can control as we please?"

Kirigiri simply looked at me with cold eyes. Was she actually angry?

"A detective operating without a client is just fulfilling mere self-satisfaction." Kirigiri said before looking away.

"Maybe, but at least I’m making an effort to find out the truth." I suddenly got up. Weirdly, it reminded me of my childhood, and especially of my sister.

“Find the truth? What a childish response.”

“Says the actual child!”

After my sudden outburst, a sound echoed in the room. I looked at the source of the sound; Suisei was holding a mini trumpet. My ears began to ring.

“Alright, no fighting. Honestly, you’re like children. No wait, not even that, but rookies” Even so, from my point of view, he was much worse. He then threw the trumpet with a bitter laugh and a waiter caught it without problem.

"A detective is nothing without an ideology, especially not trustworthy. They’re also nothing if they’re too self-serving. I guess you two have at least one half of what it means to be a proper detective." said Suisei before shrugging.

Kirigiri and I looked at each other for a moment.

"Sorry I got carried away." I said as I sat back down, my face flushed from embarrassment. Kirigiri remained silent with her face being stoic.

"Well, let's go back to our history lesson," Suisei said, “Since my investigation into the Victims Catharsis Committee began, the amount of missing detectives had reached the double digits.”

“D-double digits?”

“Get what I’m saying? It means that the situation is getting increasingly difficult to back out from.”

“Is that what you got from this investigation into such a dangerous organization? If so, then that just means we need to hurry up and eliminate them!”

“Really brave of you, Yui Samidare. The detectives that disappeared would have said the same thing. These detectives were Double Zeroes, yet even they couldn’t shake this organization. It’s proof that this situation can’t be solved so easily. Say, did you know the Victims Catharsis Committee is registered as a non-profit organization? Complete with an office building, people can freely enter and exit.”

“Really? But then… what’s the matter?”

“The matter is that the only information that can be gathered is what they have open to the public. They spread detectives thin with so much useless information, while the real information is carefully concealed. If you want to hide leaves, put them in the forest. That good example is written in ‘Father Brown’. It’s a famous detective novel by G.K. Chesterton.”

“Then...what purpose does this group have? Is it to really treat the vengeance of others as some sort of program to watch?”

"From what I know, those who traced this organization before they disappeared seem to know there was a real purpose to that.”

“There’s a purpose?"

"The detective who told me about it is still missing, so maybe he knew the real purpose of the Victims Catharsis Committee, or..."

"Well, it definitely wasn’t for ‘Catharsis’."

"What is it from you, Yui? You refer to the Victims Catharsis Committee as evil."

"Isn't that natural? They kill innocent people."

"But both parties are often criminals, aren't they? You should know that if you've ever participated in a Duel Noir." Suisei challenged me. "They're trying to get revenge on someone who's made them suffer in the past, often from a crime."

In the past Duel Noir, the culprit of it, was trying to get revenge for his family that was murdered. He wanted to avenge them.

"Life has also taken away the criminal’s common sense." Kirigiri challenged as well. "They have decided to take revenge on the people who stole from them."

"In this world, there are people who live their normal lives without being judged for the mistakes they have made, while others live a miserable life in the depths of society. Life is simply unfair. Don't you think their behavior is normal?" asked Suisei.

"I can understand that feeling... but it's still unacceptable to turn to violence." I spoke back in retort.

“In the end, what you’re saying is only the opinion of one detective. There is only a thin line that separates justice from evil. For many people, the Duel Noir is a relief or a holy war. Some people think that challengers are rewarded only because of a necessary evil that can change the world.."

The Victims Catharsis Committee was a necessary evil?

Is that really the case?

"Even if there was another reason... when you're determined to kill people, and you

choose this path, I think you should be punished, no matter what the context is."

"You really are someone with a strong sense of justice." Suisei laughed softly. "But if the iron is twisted, it's very difficult to go back once it's done. A child like you can turn out to be the biggest threat."

"A threat..." Didn’t expect him to call me that.

“Don’t get too personally involved if you ever want to be married to an adult.” he said

"Don't let your feelings get in the way of your judgment, Yui-oneesama." warned Kirigiri. Well, I couldn't think of anything else to answer.

For a professional detective or for Kirigiri, hiding their emotions and not bringing their personal ideas into the business is very easy. I also think it is necessary. However, there's no reason to leave the Victims Catharsis Committee alone like that.

"Whatever the circumstances, I don't think it's time to change my mind about an

organization like this," I stretched my neck slightly, "No matter the context or despair, a normal human being has to control themselves."

“So what they said about youth being both a wound and a sharp knife was correct!”

“Mr. Nanamura! Do you really think the culprits of these Duel Noirs are innocent victims?”

"Yep, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter to me." laughed Suisei as he answered without hesitation. "Innocent or not, as a detective, my true opponent is mystery. My existence is there to solve those that are right in front of me. Say, don’t you think it's more fun solving a mystery solo?"

“And so it turned into this…”

This was expected from a Double Zero. He really trusted his experience. "Do you really think I can forgive criminals? I'm not that naive," he said.

"I'm sorry I doubted you…”

“That’s quite alright!”

“Is there anything else we should know about the Victims Catharsis Committee?"

"I don't know anything else, but I heard another story from a single detective who had been the victim of a Duel Noir."

"Just one?"

"We call him the President, a man... I mean, they could be a woman, who is the brains of it all. Their identity is surrounded by a veil of mystery. One day they founded the Victims Catharsis Committee, a little less than 10 years ago."

"So they are the boss of the organization?"

If we could reveal the identity of the president, we would be able to charge the Victims Catharsis Committee as a criminal organization. The shadow that organization had casted was beginning to mold itself into a human figure.

"Who could be the president? Could he have been an ex-detective?" Kirigiri said abruptly.

Suisei raised an eyebrow, placing his elbow on the table to support his chin. "Why do you think that?"

"Duel Noir targets must organize an unsolvable crime and become guilty of a false incident. In fact, it means that the organization is able to cover up the real culprit in a case and keep it for a future game. Only a top-notch detective could do that." I spoke, and was rather surprised from what came out of my mouth. Wow, guess I was getting up there in being high level as well...

"That's right, you're absolutely correct." Kyoko nodded.

"However, if it is a high class detective who could find the real criminal very easily, he can survive their little adventure. As long as the rank is high enough, for example..." said Kirigiri, "The triple zero rank of the detective library counted four people in the past, but one of them disappeared from the records, perhaps they are the President we are after."

"This may be a consideration to be taken into account in order to identify the president of the organization." Applauded Suisei. "I'll skip the explanations, because to us, time is money. Kyoko Kirigiri, you seem to be able to follow me easily. "

"So, which detective was struck off the books?" Kirigiri asked.

"Unfortunately, I don't know." Replied Suisei, extending his arms. "When I registered in the detective library, there was nothing that could designate his identity, like most triple zeroes. All we know is that he's human. He was probably one of the first detectives in the library. If anyone knows anything, it must be a detective who handles gender cases. As far as I know, one of the founders was in this field."

Speaking of the founders, I heard that Kirigiri's grandfather is one of them. It doesn't look like he's registered, but... anyways, I might be thinking too much.

I was watching Kirigiri's reactions from the corner of my eye, but she didn't seem disturbed.

"If you're able to speculate that far, why can't anyone find him?"

Suisei took a knife & fork and raised his arms up. "It's because everything is speculation. If one of the old triple zeros turned out to be the president, it would be a shock."

"Why?" I asked

"There is a difference between time, money or talent. That's the difference between us and the Triple Zeros. If they turn out to be criminals, it will have a big impact on the rest of us and our reputations. It's not a joke- it's a fact - and it's not an easily by-passable problem. It's an undeniable defeat." Suisei said.

For me to be a Double Zero was already above the clouds, so if someone with a lot of pride like Suisei said that... then maybe I should at least admit that I wanted to fight much harder than I already was.

"There's only one way to get closer to the Victims Catharsis Committee," said Suisei. "It's to capture the challenger, the murderer. They are in direct contact and receive private information. But then again you'll need to know the identity of the murderer. However, if we can do it, it would be a big step. Do you understand?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "I wouldn't let a criminal win."

"That's a powerful mantra." Suisei got up from his chair and looked at his watch.

"What? Are you planning to leave?"

"We are eating, but time is running out, and time is money." Said Suisei, waving to the waiter. "Even if there wasn't a confirmation, it's still a Duel Noir. Are you sure you want to come?"

"Yes." I said without hesitation. Kyoko saw my face and also nodded.

“Then let’s discuss this Duel Noir, shall we?”

The culprit of the Duel Noir can get funds from the organization in order to purchase Techniques. These Techniques range from tactics to weapons and once their ‘deck’ is assembled what they chose will be on display in the letter to the detective.

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A Message for the Detective

Heed the Cry of the Noir

Location — Norman Hotel — 80,000,000 yen

Weapon — Knife — 5,000,000 yen

Weapon — Revolver — 15,000,000 yen

Weapon — Hammer — 3,000,000 yen

Weapon — Rope — 3,000,000 yen

Weapon — Automobile — 10,000,000 yen

Trick — Locked Room — 100,000,000 yen

Trick — Disappearing Act — 100,000,000 yen

Other — Cash — 1,000,000,000 yen

Total cost — 1,316,000,000 yen

According to the above cost, the following detective is summoned — Suisei Nanamura.

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It seems he's the detective to ask.

I felt a little overwhelmed when my eyes met Kirigiri's. This time, the person had accumulated several weapons and tricks. He could buy this from the organization, the price being marked on the letter.

The higher the price and difficulty, the higher the rank of the detective. "I'll tell you the most important things first," said Suisei, taking the bag a waiter had handed to him. He put the letter back inside and closed it.

"In a Duel Noir, there is a rule that says the criminal cannot kill the detective in charge of investigating. It's because there's no game when the detective's not there. The detective is always asked for through a letter. If you're not the detective, you're just a secondary companion. So it could be that the culprit is one of the victims, even if they're dead. You could die." His voice suddenly resounded. "Me and the others, if you think about it, are jumping into the criminal’s trap. It may indeed be that if we apply ourselves to all this, you won't get out of it unscathed and wind up a victim."

“A...victim?” Those unexpected words made my voice change.

We would need to think about this carefully….

If we get in the way of the culprit, we could die.

“Are you scared?” said Suisei

"I... think I'll be fine." I lied to myself.

In contrast, Kyoko looked quite calm and gave a nod of her head.

"For the criminal to win, they must kill their enemy to get revenge on them, and last 168 hours without being discovered by the detective. If you win the "Duel Noir." You win the amount of money spent on the game. For a criminal wanting to start a new life, that's a good motivation." He said.

“That...sounds like such a desperate situation to wind up in.”

"Exactly. They can put everything aside, including their past, and have a normal life if they wish. On the other hand, if the detective manages to find out who the culprit is, they will have to refund the money they spent on the game. If they cannot pay with money, they will have to pay with their life. In tune, I will do the same and fight with my life.”

In short, it is a game of life and death for our enemy. To stay alive, they're going to do everything they can to not get caught. But I'm not going to be beaten. I became a detective to answer the call for help. If you want to bring justice as a detective, you have to put your life aside. That's the purpose of a detective. As such, I have no qualms about risking it all and even giving up my own life for it all. In contrast, Kyoko was a detective by nature with no sense of purpose outside of the profession. She was involved in this career since she was so young, and is now about to become a detective machine, utterly incapable of feeling death.

But, no matter how much detective work was installed in her, she was still a junior high school girl still starting out.

"The Duel Noir does not always take place in closed areas. However, as this limits the movement of detectives and drives the police back, these locations are often chosen. The Norman Hotel, which was chosen for this game, is an old abandoned hotel in the mountains. It will be very far from the city. We cannot afford to neglect the preparations. We’ll probably be there for at least 100 hours."

Suisei looked at his watch once again, and raised his hand to say goodbye.

"I have to go." Suisei began to leave, when he suddenly turned around, remembering something. "Oh, and let's confirm the schedules before that. I'll leave for the Norman Hotel the day after tomorrow, because there's something I absolutely have to do tomorrow. I will leave around 7am, and with the transport, I'll probably arrive around 10am. Is that okay for you? It's only one day, but..."

"Isn't there a time limit?"

"With my speed, we shouldn't be late. There's no problem."

“Oh...okay?”

"Let's pray for our victory!"

Suisei then headed for the exit of the private room, before diverting to the windows. He opened one of them. A strong wind rushed into the room. Suisei moved his legs to the other side of the window. "Good luck!" He gave us a thumbs up and jumped out of the window.

"Mr. Nanamura!" I quickly got up from my chair and rushed to the window that was still open. I then saw him slowly descend towards the illuminated city, a parachute deployed. The big sky-blue parachute added something to the beauty of the city. Were the high-ranking detectives all like this? I froze for a moment, watching the man slowly descend. The sound of cutlery made me return to my senses. A waiter came to close the window, blocking the wind.

"Well, let's continue this meal, even if we’re worried. D-day is only the day after tomorrow.”

"Yui-oneesama." said Kirigiri. "This could be our last Christmas."

"Don't say such a thing! Of course we won't be killed so easily! We'll have more Christmases after this!"

And I'll protect you. I couldn't get those words out of my throat. I could only superimpose

Kirigiri's possible death based on my little sister's... Because of that, I didn't even want to think about it. I didn't really trust Suisei. Moreover, if I let myself be trapped in my little sister's illusion, it could be annoying for the investigation. I forced myself to drop a "I'll do my best for the Duel Noir."

"I guess I don't have a choice if I want to improve my rank."

It's still my little sister's voice....

"Hey, Yui-oneesama." Kirigiri was young, but her voice sounded very adult. "We must survive the Duel Noir, no matter what happens there."

A waiter approached me, and gave me something that looked like a fine notebook. When I opened it, I discovered the dinner bill. 62248 yen.

“So Mr. Suisei Nanamura didn't pay?”

The waiter tilted his head and smiled to remind me of his presence. I checked my wallet but I only have two 2,000 yen bills on me.

“What’ll we do?” I whispered to Kirigiri: “That damn detective! His spectacular exits and entries show he has money, but likes to keep it!"

"Keep calm, Yui-oneesama." Kirigiri replied gently. She then took a card out of her wallet. "Can I pay at once?"

"Certainly." After settling everything, the waiter bowed and then left us alone.

"Kirigiri... you’re so cool..."

Once dinner was over, we left the building. Even if we moved as far away as possible, it was impossible not to see it. Lights that were almost blinding our eyes were emanating powerfully from across the city. I felt like I was in a paradise under the ocean, walking with Kirigiri. The Christmas lights were comforting, and a row of Christmas trees illuminated the faces of passers-by.

"Well, now that we're here... I can walk you home..." I said. Kirigiri remained silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night. She then turned around and started to walk away on her own.

"No need, it's too late anyways. I'll send you a message."

"But, alone at this hour..."

Kirigiri leaned her head and said to me over her shoulder: "Maybe if it was a foreign country, but there is nothing threatening on the roads of this country."

"But, if a man is attracted to young girls like you... he could do... that!"

I tried to attack her from behind, to grab her neck, but the next thing I knew, she was

gone. She then appeared behind me and put my arms behind my back.

“Ow, this hurts…”

"See? I can defend myself." She released my arm. “You need to be careful, Yui-oneesama. If you tried you could probably beat an older man with a high kick from those legs of yours.

"Be careful though, because if a man really wanted to attack you, you probably won't be up to it."

"Of course I will."

"Did you take a self-defense course?...And if possible can you teach me that trick too?"

"I'm going now." Kirigiri said as she looked at the street clock.

"Let's just go back together anyways, I want to talk a little more with you. It's quite boring, being alone."

Kirigiri frowned, creating a wrinkle on her forehead. She kept walking without looking at me. I ran up to her.

"We can keep talking about..."

"What, teaching you self-defense?"

"No, about the president of the Victims Catharsis Committee..."

"What's the matter?"

"He's a former detective, and one of the founders of the Detective Library... couldn't it be your grandfather?"

"It's very dramatic, but no, it's not him."

"How can you know that?" I asked.

"My grandfather was never registered in the library. He told me that before. He never became a triple zero, and it's not registered, so it couldn't be deleted."

But did her grandfather tell the truth?

"Are you sure he's not lying to you? A grandfather would never tell his granddaughter that he is the president of such an organization..."

"My grandfather is very proud to be a Kirigiri, more than anyone else in my family... He would never settle for being put in boxes like the library ranks. He was against the whole DSC classification system in the first place."

"Just pride?" I opposed. I've never heard of this family. She came from a detective

family, there was no doubt about it. She has these abilities at only 13 years old. Maybe she really comes from a big detective family and that blood flows through her veins, but I haven't seen any other detective react to the name 'Kirigiri'. Even Suisei, who was a double zero.

"I know what you're thinking. The Kirigiri family are good detectives, but we don't want to

be known. We live in the shadows. So the ordinary detectives don't know us. That's why my grandfather didn't register in the library, to protect the Kirigiri pride. We almost never talk about ourselves."

"It's an incredible story... but why did Kyoko-chan register in the library? Isn't that

against your family's principles? At least, according to your grandfather.”

"First, my grandfather technically lives abroad. So he doesn't fight crime from here. It is

impossible for him to be the president of a small organization located only in Japan."

"It's true that he's on another level... Sorry for doubting your grandfather, Kirigiri. Even

adults fight crimes like this anonymously, ignoring the opinion of the public and the government, but maybe he knows the president of the Victims Catharsis Committee? I mean, he was the 'president' of the library."

"I wonder about that, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Maybe if you say your name, an official will recognize him. It's probably easier to sneak in discreetly."

"It doesn't matter. It'll always be the same thing; what do I do after that? How can I sue the president of such a non-profit organization?" Kirigiri looked troubled, and she moved her fingers closer to her face, as if to warm them with her breath.

"Whatever! Everything ends up being discovered! Like how Al Capone ended up being nabbed for tax fraud. There’s probably something that can be put on him. As long as we can stop the Duel Noir"

“Such an extreme line of justice, that’s no different than succumbing to evil.”

“Erk…”

"Yes, but being around all the time thinking about conspiracy theories will do worse than

better. For now, we should put the president's case aside. Let's try to clean up what's in front of us." I was really getting told by a girl who was younger than me.

That's right. We have already made good progress. Suisei Nanamura's Duel Noir had already started for 12 hours. We must remain calm. We'll think about how everything will go after we arrest the Duel Noir criminal... If we manage to get out of the hotel alive.

We continued to walk, our minds clouded with questions. Kirigiri suddenly stopped.

"What? What's the matter?"

"We have arrived." I looked up to see a huge traditional house, with a huge door. I had

trouble closing my mouth. The streetlights continued along the hill, and the white barriers extended far and wide

“Were there any houses like that left?” In this case, it was the largest traditional house I had ever seen. I watched Kirigiri, my eyes full of jealousy. Yes, she was definitely a lady.

"My curfew has already passed." Kirigiri said. "Fortunately you're not a man, because even for a detective, he would have been angry." Kirigiri seemed a little uncomfortable.

"If you had a curfew, you should have told me. We would have left sooner." I said.

"It's because I was talking to you that I'm late," Kirigiri replied, with cold eyes.

"Yes, it's because I've talked too much. I'm sorry, but I had to be absolutely sure what we discussed."

"If you say so."

“I’ll explain the situation, if that works?”

“That would help me quite a deal.” she said with a slightly softer tone than before. I felt rather pleased from it all.

Kirigiri walked to the large gate before stopping. The gate was made of wood, and I could only imagine the splinters that would be caught by touching it. It was still quite warm, but there were no signs, just an intercom.

"Aren't you coming home?”

“Only outsiders go through the front door. Family access is through the back.” She said as she walked along the wall.

“How… formal.”

The massive trees planted on the other side did not allow me to see behind the gate. It was difficult to see the majestic residence, but it was impossible to see a human presence. For someone who didn't know the place, the residence was a total mystery.

"Do you live with your grandfather or alone?

"It depends, but there are three maids. One person is always there."

“Servants, are you serious?”

Since the school we went to was full of young girls, it was not difficult to hear that some families hired maid servants so that they would not leave their daughter alone. One of these families was Kyoko's. She had neither her father nor her mother. I didn't have the details, so I didn't understand the situation well, but I easily understood that I shouldn't ask more questions.

"By the way, didn't you live abroad for a while?"

"Yes, with my grandfather. I stayed there for 5 years. Then I had to come back to this school, as I was already enrolled here," Kirigiri said. "It had to happen at some point. There's a small portal that allows easy access."

"My life is very different from yours."

"Really?" Kirigiri stoically replied.

We walked along the fence for a while, until Kirigiri pointed to a specific place. There was a small gate to make it easier to get in. She took the key out of her pocket, inserted it and turned the key. The gate opened easily.

“Eh? You had the key for this place on-hand?”

“The problem isn’t about me having the key. The problem is what to do afterwards.”

“Is sneaking to your room not on the table?”

“He’ll definitely catch me.”

"So what should I do?" I asked.

"Wait here, I'll call Grandpa."

"Okay, I'll wait."

"I'll be back soon."

"Oh, wait a minute!"

"What?"

"Wouldn't it be better if you took that hat off your head," I replied, pointing at the Santa's hat that was on her head. She pushed it slightly. I watched it fall at my feet. Kyoko looked rather surprised.

"What is it?"

"Didn't you notice?!" I picked up the hat and encouraged Kirigiri. "Hey, you better go."

"Oh, yeah." Kirigiri walked towards the door of the house. Once Kirigiri was out of sight, I put my hands in my pockets and leaned against the fence. It's unusual for Kirigiri to panic. Maybe her grandfather was that strict? Or maybe she really loves her grandfather. That must have been it. For her, who didn't have parents, it must have been difficult. I looked up to the sky, looking at the streetlights.

Suddenly, little white glitter began to fall from the sky. A white Christmas? On Christmas Eve I am often alone, wondering what I will do next year, and my anxiety overwhelms me. This year, I met a girl named Kirigiri Kyoko, whose presence really helped me. I no longer have this feeling of loneliness and emptiness. We're both detectives too. Will she be here again next year? I was imagining our future: two detectives always together. I didn't want a dark future, but wasn't that the fate of a detective?

"Yui-oneesama." I heard a voice. I saw that the large gate was open. I turned around to see Kirigiri, looking at me with concern.

"Where's your grandfather?" I walked away from the white barriers by redoing the button on my coat. I approached Kirigiri looking behind her, but there was no one there.

"You're the man who wants to seduce my Kyoko!”

The voice came from above my head. An old man wearing a kimono was on the wall. I only noticed it now? I stepped back before being pulled forward again, put on the ground. A short time before, I was quietly contemplating the sky. It was disturbing to see an old man jump off a wall that high. The old man's cane kept me on the ground. Was he really that strong?! He lifted it up to try and hit my head.

"Wait, it's not her! She's a woman!"

"What?" He pulled his cane away, lifted me up, and grabbed my chest. "What are you doing!" I shouted, clearing the man's hand. I jumped away.

"It's Yui-oneesama, the detective who goes to the same school as me."

"Oh, is that true?" he said, scratching his white hair. "Sorry, I heard Kyoko was going to eat with a boy, excuse me for the misunderstanding!"

Despite his white hair, he looked pretty young. His hair was shiny, his wrinkles discreet, he stood up straight and his eyes were shiny with life. He had a cane in his right hand, but his legs didn't seem weak. Maybe it was some kind of weapon for him.

"I'm glad to know that Kyoko has made a friend. Was it you who called?" he said with a smile. He looked like another person with that soft smile on his face. “You’re taking care of my granddaughter. I’m so embarrassed. She was always alone, and didn’t seem to be used to life here. I was getting worried. If she has a good partner like you, then I can relax. Right, Kyoko?” “Yes.”

"I'm sorry for delaying Kyoko and making her miss her curfew. She didn't seem familiar with life here, and I wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt."

Kirigiri was half hidden behind her grandfather's back. She seemed more comfortable than usual.

"We both talked about the incident, and it took a long time... I didn't know there was a curfew. Please, don’t punish her!"

“Heh, I always wondered who Kyoko would bring back to me. Anyways, don’t worry, there’s an exception to every rule. If it involves a detective case, I'm willing to forgive her. For the Kirigiri family, detective business is very important and comes first. Even death does not deviate from its purpose."

“O-oh, so…”

“If it was detective related, then that curfew crap can wait!” he said with a merry laugh.

Was that what Kirigiri's grandfather taught? It sure explained a lot...still, glad he wasn’t unreasonable. Honestly, when he knocked me down and groped my chest, I was expecting the worst. Still, from what I’m seeing, he’s a pretty agreeable guy. Though, perhaps, that could be just his love for Kyoko, spoiling her?

“Heh, thought I was a grouchy old man? It’s all over your face!”

“Erm, s-so sorry!”

“Like I said, when it comes to being a Kirigiri, being a detective goes past one’s family, even death itself. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

"That’s my girl! If it is for a case and to see Kyoko become a first rate detective, than I suppose it's worth keeping the gate unlocked at night,”

"Really?" Kyoko asked in wonder.

"Of course, as long as you’re focused on your duty!”

"I'll do my best to be a good detective," Kirigiri replied, her eyes shining.

"Good girl." said the grandfather as he stroked Kirigiri's head. She and her grandfather seemed quite happy.

I felt a little uncomfortable in front of the stage, but I couldn't help but think it was cute.

"Uh, tomorrow we'll have to solve a Duel Noir case, so Kyoko will be spending the night somewhere else. O-Of course, I’ll also be there with her! Is that alright?”

"Of course!"

Well, it was easy... but sending his little girl without hesitation into such a case... He

didn't seem to be afraid of the death of his loved ones. Did he know a lot about the Duel Noirs? He must have heard about the Victims Catharsis Committee, thanks to Kyoko. He at least knows a little. Maybe he even knew more than we did. Such a great detective, who is also the founder of the Detective Library, necessarily knows more. I hesitated for a long time, not knowing if I should ask him or not. The man spoke again.

"Well, it's about time we head inside. You should go home too, Yui. It's cold tonight and you need to prepare to investigate. Shall I call a cab for you?"

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

"It was a pleasure to meet you. Kyoko, you can see her off."

I slowly lowered my head, always thinking.

"May I ask you for another cho-..."

There was no old man left in front of me. I was looking around, but nothing... nowhere. He had disappeared. Completely missing.

"Yui-oneesama, maybe you should go home..." said Kirigiri, near the gate.

I hadn't noticed it, but I was tired. The tension and my heavy breath disappeared, and I could feel the fatigue falling on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Yui-oneesama."

"It's okay, I'd let an old man touch my chest if it's for you." I said, removing the dust from my coat. "But I didn't know your grandfather was so... focused on your education. Still, it's great he’s not so uptight. "

"Hey, Yui-oneesama?"

"Yes?"

“It’s weird to choose detective work over family, yes?”

“W-w-well, I w-wouldn’t call it strange, just… well, it does seem to involve a lack of caring about people’s feelings in the matter.“ I said after a good degree of thought.

“People’s feelings?”

“Are you asking because you have doubts over your detective work?”

"No, that’s not it. Anyway, what Grandpa said earlier, that detective work was more important than the death of a family member… don't you think it's strict?"

"Well, I find it stranger than strict, but I guess that's your family's opinion of detectives..."

"No, it's different. For my family, work is really more important than the death of a family member. It's not a suggestion, it's an obligation. A dogma."

"Okay... I think it might be beautiful? It means you're very proud to be a detective, right?"

"Don't you think it's abnormal?" Kirigiri continued.

She had so much pride in her work as a detective that I could hardly see her doubting that. She was raised into it during her childhood, which made the thought of her doubts even harder to fathom. Still....

"What do you think?" I asked her.

"I don't think it's abnormal. I think… I think it's a good mentality," said Kirigiri. I thought for a moment to say that she didn't have to continue, but she opened her mouth before me. "But I feel like I force myself to think like that. Like, I live like a real detective, because I don't want to feel empty."

For her, her life was all about detective work, but even still...

"As long as I'm here, you won't be alone or empty." I hugged her.

"I want it to stay that way," Kirigiri said, looking at me.

"Of course! You're the coolest, most pure detective I know! Let's do our best together! Tomorrow and for as long as possible."

"Ah? ...Well, goodbye." Separating myself from Kirigiri, who walked back with a shyish look on her face, I laid my hand on the gate. I gave her one last look before running to the dormitories, the snow accompanying me. My curfew passed a long time ago! The dormitories were guarded, so I discreetly passed through a window.

Heh, violating the rules on Christmas night.

It felt quite nice!~

Chapter 1: End

https://drmedicsgamesurgery.tumblr.com/GameSurgeryDRTranslations for more!

#Danganronpa #Kirigiri #Danganronpa Kirigiri #Volume 2 #v2 #2 #part 1 #Translation #full #full translation

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assemble-revengers · 3 years

Text

Nexus Split

**Contains spoilers for Loki**

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2203

Prompt: “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

Author’s Note: I woke up and chose violence today.

Time was hard to grasp before this whole mess began, but it at least had some structure regardless of how ethereal it seemed. There was structure and a time and place and you just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time so it seemed when you also made a move to snatch up the Tesseract the second you saw Loki move in New York. That’s how you got into this mess and honestly there were many things you had regretted initially. For instance, why couldn’t you have minded your own business?

Well, if you had you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet Loki, and at the moment? That felt worth more than anything. It hadn’t started that way -- the two of you were practically at each other’s throats and when you weren’t bickering between each other you were being confused by the politics of the TVA and time in general.

In a wild turn of events you became an unpaid intern all over again. You supposed it was better than dying or “being pruned”. You still were confused as ever by the lingo and even though you had tried your best to pay attention to the onboarding process, but frankly you were still wrapping your head around the prospect of the TVA in general. How had no one even considered this being a possibility? Where did these people come from? It seemed that it just...was? But if that was the case, why was there an onboarding process?

Miss Minutes was terrifying -- she was just so...eerie and popped up randomly and honestly you just wanted a nap. Or to wake up from this bizarre dream.

The worst part was the notion of running into other variants, namely the fact that a variant that had been targeting members of the TVA happened to be a Loki-variant.

“Wonderful,” you retorted, interrupting Mobius with disdain, “There’s another one of him.”

The aforementioned god was sitting across a table from you and you weren’t entirely sure how he was taking the whole thing. According to him, the tesseract was useless here. A paper weight. Another beyond weird thing that the TVA brought.

“We should team up,” a voice interrupted your spacing out and it took you a moment to realize that the voice belonged to Loki. And he was talking to you.

You blinked a few times incredulously, “You have been nothing but cruel to me since we met. Why would I ever help you?” Honestly, the audacity of men.

“I am sorry about that, by the way,” he answered, “I was going through something.”

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out, covering your mouth immediately to try to mute the sound and avoid any more attention. “Aw, that makes it all better.”

There was no reason to hide your sarcasm, and he knew that. You could tell from the way he blanched for a moment before resuming his composure, obviously trying to turn on some godly charm or something onto you, “I was. I truly am sorry.”

“Loki, you stole the Tesseract, tried to take over the world and brought a bunch of crazy alien things into New York City,” you listed, counting off the things on your fingers, “And now because you went after the stupid Tesseract again, with a room full of Avengers I might add, I cannot return to my life which wasn’t that impressive, but at this moment? I kind of miss it. So, no, I don’t accept your apology.” He was silent after that and you went back to your mind palace spiraling about the logistics of what was happening to you.

It was not a great day for you. Week? Hour? Time was weird. It was even more weird when you were suddenly having to do research into the Loki-variant-assassin. Going through files and files of different instances in time was tedious. It was interesting in that some of the things had already happened, were going to happen, and were happening in places you had never even heard of. It was during this that you and Loki had begun to work more collaboratively.

In fact, the moment you guys had made the connection that it was apocalypses? You taught the god of mischief the importance of a high five. Or rather, never leaving someone hanging because you chased him down, yelling at him until he returned the high five before you even allowed him to present your findings to Mobius. The bond continued when you both were treated like unhinged criminals or starved, ravenous animals by pretty much everyone other than Mobius who was...friendly as ever.

You did not have a lot of options in terms of trust. While Mobius seemed genuine, there was no way you could possibly know. The issue was that the only thing that was any level of normal in your eyes was Loki which was...laughable, but he was from your timeline. The two of you were in this together sort of because at this point you wanted to go home and it seemed he did too after the whole semantics of this whole thing. Or maybe he wanted to take over the TVA. Regardless, it gave you some hope that he might be kind and put you into your timeline where you belong.

The feelings came out of nowhere. In fact, you hadn’t even realized it happened until there was a chance for you both to chase after the Loki-variant (or Sylvie as you would learn later) and before Loki went through the portal, he reached a hand out for you, Mobius yelling and you found your feet moving on their own accord, turning to mouth ‘Sorry’ to Mobius before grabbing Loki’s hand and rushing through the portal.

Sylvie was interesting and endearing and was someone you instantly found yourself drawn to. You felt sympathetic to her story, and maybe that was dangerous. Dangerous, but gave you another sliver of hope despite the fact things were bleak. Very bleak. Being on Lamentis-1 about to explode and everyone die bleak. Despite this, the two of you sat and chatted in your booth at the bar while Loki got absolutely hammered and even began to softly serenade you in what you assumed was Asgardian (this was after he sung to the whole room) and you found yourself pulling him back down to the chairs and pulling him into a hug while you laughed.

“Loki, I have no idea what you’re saying,” you giggled, pulling away from him, “But I think you’ve had enough.”

“Darling, I think I’m just getting started,” he answered with the smoothness of butter on a hot pancake. You couldn’t help the burning of your ears and the rest of the blush that began to dance across your features. Sylvie coughed. Moment interrupted (Thankfully? You don’t know). Back to the business of the world ending and no way out. Maybe that’s what let all of you decide to unload tales of the past. Yours was boring and...uneventful comparatively which led you to remain relatively quiet as both Loki and Sylvie talked.

Hearing all of Sylvie’s plight and what brought her to that moment had both you and Loki feeling empathetic. You felt anger that this whole this was allowed and deemed ‘okay’ by the TVA. An entity that really had no checks and balances as far as you could see. You pretended to ignore Sylvie and Loki bonding. You felt your stomach tighten. Envy was ugly and green really was never your color.

But that triggered the TVA rolling up and taking the three of you back. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You weren’t expecting yourself to start fighting. Your restraints, the situation, the fact you were separated from Sylvie and more importantly Loki. You were utterly alone in your cell, screaming for them to let you out. The person interrogating you entered, tried asking you questions that you just couldn’t hear. Your head was swimming and it was almost as if you were hearing things like you were underwater. Fight or flight and apparently your entire being chose to fight.

Per someone’s orders you were moved, you lit up the moment you saw Loki and soon you were joined by Sylvie. Your restraints were removed and your eyes began watering as you rushed to Loki’s side, grabbing his hand as he gave yours a reassuring squeeze, moving so that he was shielding you from the front. The next thing you knew and before you had a moment to process, Mobius was pruned in front of you and Loki moved to shield you further.

Surprisingly, you were not entirely useless in the fight that ensued, but couldn’t help but feel entirely out of your element. The closest you had ever been to being in a fight in the past was when you were five and some girl stole your crayons and had the nerve to try to eat them.

Your adrenaline was pumping when you turned to Loki a feeling like being shocked by a plug while also being burned by a pan that had been on the stove. You were confused, Loki was yelling something. You couldn’t hear. You reach for him, desperate to calm him down or maybe it was because you subconsciously knew what was happening and you were terrified. The hot, electric feeling spread across your body before what felt like you were dropped in ice cold water and suddenly...your eyes blinked awake. You weren’t at the TVA.

Instead, you found yourself on the run (you hated yourself for missing out on all that gym time because your cardio could use some work) from a cloud that ate things. You would learn that you were in The Void, the evil vacuum of the cloud was called Alioth, and that there were even more Loki variants. One was an alligator. He was your favorite.

Your Loki also turned up and you practically threw yourself into his arms in relief, “I thought I lost you, you idiot.”

“I could say the same to you, pet,” he responded, murmuring into the crook of your shoulder. Reunions had to be cut short after you introduced the other variants, (“And this Loki is an alligator! How cool is that! He’s my favorite of all of you, no offense.”) and now you were seeking shelter to hide from Alioth and...well survive you supposed.

President Loki and the other Lokis were...a lot. In fact, there were so many Lokis that you were beginning to get a tension headache trying to keep up with everything that was going on. Some of them seemed to recognize you, including President Loki that informed you that you were late and with the wrong people (“No? I don’t even know who you are?” “You will.”)

Reuniting with Sylvie and Mobius brought even more relief. Sylvie seemed to think she could enchant the Alioth. You protested quite a bit before she was able to convince you otherwise. There was a way out. You had a chance to go back to the TVA and sort things with Mobius. Maybe go back to where you belong. Maybe stay. You weren’t sure, but it seemed Loki, your-Loki was hesitating.

Mobius was opening the portal behind you to the TVA. You stood with your hand firmly within Loki’s, fingers interlaced as you bid Sylvie a small, quiet ‘good luck, you’ve got this’. You and Loki were right by the portal, a sliver from stepping in before Loki stops, pulling you so that you two were facing each other, your back to the portal.

“What’s wrong?” you ask concerned.

“I’m staying,” Loki affirms, “To help Sylvie, to...do this.”

“Okay,” you lament. You were staying too. You tried to move to leave the portal Loki gave Mobius a heartfelt hug, which ended up being a group hug since Loki wouldn’t let go of you. In fact, as soon as Mobius was released from the hug, you were engulfed into Loki’s arms where you practically melted. The hug ended far too soon, but Loki didn’t release you, holding your face in his hands as he pressed his forehead to yours. It made your heart warm and peace washed over you.

“Loki…” you sigh, feeling an entire lifetime of emotions flooding your system, “I…”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, “I know. I feel the same...but I can’t bear to hear it.”

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” You inquire, voice cracking. You felt frozen in place as panic began to bubble up under your skin.

“Because you’re not staying with me,” he murmurs weakly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I love you, Y/N. Remember that, please.”

Before you could respond, you were shoved by a great force. You couldn’t even react as your grip was easily broken, your sense of balance knocked out from under you. Mobius had already stepped through the portal...surely it wasn’t still up? You landed on the ground, having been knocked off your feet, but you were no longer in the void.

You felt your heart shattering. You couldn’t even cry. He was gone.

#loki x you #mcu loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #mcu x you #mcu imagine #mcu x reader

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Looks up, grinning like a devil

Chapter 10 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Where did our reader end up?

Warnings: criminal minds level violence, mention of past teacher/student relationship

word count: ~1800

When you open your eyes, you are struck by how dark it is. After you moved to DC, it took a while for you to grow accustomed to not having complete darkness. Even in your apartment at night, light still filters in through the curtains.

At first, you assume the power went out or something, but then you notice something else: the fact that you’re not in your bed. In fact you’re not in any bed. You’re in what feels like a weirdly shaped box.

That’s when it all comes back to you. You had just hung up the phone after talking to Spencer when someone grabbed you from behind. You tried to fight, but they stuck a needle in your arm.

The memory causes a jolt of pain in your arm, waking you up. Based on what you can feel and hear, you determine you are in the trunk of a car. You’ve got no way of knowing how long you were out for, or how far you’ve travelled since then. You can feel the panic setting in, but you don’t have much time to think about it before the car is coming to a stop.

At first you assume it’s a red light or a stop sign, but then the engine cuts out. Without being able to see, every noise you hear seems amplified. Somebody slams the door, walking around to the trunk.

Before you can come up with a plan, the trunk is thrown open. The light feels blinding as a hand reaches for your arm, dragging you out of the trunk.

“Move. Let’s go.” The voice is younger than you would’ve thought, and surprisingly enough sounds like a woman. You’ve been around Spencer and the team enough to know most offenders are male.

You stumble as your feet hit the pavement, eyes slowly adjusting to the lights. You blink a few times, trying to take in your surroundings. You’re in a parking lot, but you don’t recognize the surrounding area.

The woman drags you along with her. “Don’t even think about running. I’ll drug you again if you don’t cooperate.” You simply nod in response, trying to take in as much information as possible about where you are.

The area looks empty, but not abandoned. It is clear people still you the building, it just must be closed. Once you’re inside, you realize you’re in a high school, which makes sense since the woman seems so young.

She pulls you through the halls until you’re in what looks like a history classroom. There is a few globes on a shelf in the back, books littered across the teacher’s desk, and a few assignments written on the white board in the front.

The woman pushes you into a chair, immediately tying your hands and feet. “Now, we’re going to play a game.” She says slowly, as if you might not understand. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and if I don’t like your answers… well, it’ll hurt.” She pulls various knives out of the duffle she was carrying, tossing them on the ground in front of you.

Spencer’s head is reeling. The second note has so much information in it, and yet he can’t figure out what any of it could mean.

“Reid, what songs did he use this time?” Rossi poses the question, writing the titles on the evidence board.

“Hey Stephen, Back to December, Fifteen, Sad Beautiful Tragic, This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, exile, Bad Blood, mirrorball, Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince, mad woman, Call it What You Want, The Man, Don’t Blame Me, and White Horse.” He listed the songs without having to think about it.

“Our unsub could definitely be a woman. I mean, mad woman, the Man? Those are some pretty obvious clues.” Emily threw the idea out as soon as Reid was done listing titles.

“Definitely. And she’s young if the note is accurate, fifteen three summers ago would make her 18 now.” JJ added, looking through potential case files.

“What strikes me is the love affair that we took away.” Derek added. “Could we have put away someone she thought she was in love with?”

“Of the three child predator cases we had, there was only one that dealt with teenagers.” Reid stated, scanning the files laid out in front of him. “Garcia, what happened to Matthew Bradson after he took the deal to do jail time?”

The only sound in the room was Garcia’s typing as everyone awaited an answer. “He was sentenced to three life sentences, one for Sadie Pullman, one for Kayla Fibbs, and one for Carly Spires. He stayed in DC Department of Corrections, but was killed two weeks ago in a prison riot.” “So our unsub was separated from who she perceived to be her love, and the stressor for taking Y/N was his death.” Hotch stated, earning nods from the rest of the team.

“Sadia Pullman and Kayla Fibbs were killed before we were called in on the case. We saved Carly Spires though.” JJ read from the case file.

“The notes said she would be right where we left her, lost in the lights where they whispered she’s a bad, bad girl.” Rossi read from the notes pinned to the evidence board. “Where did we find her?”

“The high school. We found Bradson and Carly in his classroom. He was collecting items from his desk, and she had a bag with her, as if they were going to run away together.” Spencer recalled from the day in question.

“That makes sense. The bright lights from the football field, plus rumors about her must have spread like wildfire after the arrest was made.” JJ added.

“And the man clue, men are praised for their sexual encounters while women are often shamed.” Emily suggested.

“Garcia, send the address.” Hotch stated as he moved to put on his bulletproof vest, the rest of the team following suit.

“Already done, sir. Get her back.” Garcia’s voice was firmer than ever before as the team ran from the room to the elevators, headed for their SUVs.

“Would you say having a relationship with an older guy is wrong?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she stared you down. You haven’t gotten an answer wrong yet.

“No, I- I don’t think so.” You were frantically trying to figure a way out of this, trying to profile like Spencer had shown you so you could answer the questions correctly.

“Good answer. How old is too old though?” Her voice dropped with venom, willing you to get it wrong.

“Um, I think… it depends… um” You stuttered trying to come up with a number that she would be okay with.

“Depends on what?” Her words were growing harsher.

“Well, um, maturity level I guess. As long as the two people are equals, the age gap probably doesn’t matter. It’s just if there is an imbalance in power, ya know? Then it might not be the best thing to do just because you don’t want to take advantage of anyone or anything like that…” Your eyes kept growing wider as you realized the hole you were digging for yourself.

“You see, I don’t think I like that answer.” Each word was enunciated with purpose as she walked closer, dragging the knife along your arm. Before you could reply, she quickly sliced across your right shoulder.

You couldn’t stop the slight whine that escaped your lips.

“What? Did that hurt? Poor. You.” She sliced across your shoulder again before asking another question. “Here’s another one. Would you be mad at the people who ruined your relationship?”

“I don’t know, probably.” You were trying to hold back the tears as the woman started pacing.

“Not good enough.” She punctuated the sentence with another cut. “Why are you here?”

“B-B-because you brought me here.” Your words were quiet. You knew it was the wrong thing to say, but you couldn’t think of any other reason.

“Wrong again.” Another cut. “You’re here because the people you call friends ruined my life. I’m just trying to repay the favor.”

The team’s two SUVs pulled into the high school parking lot, recognizing the lone car from the video Garcia found. “She’s here. Rossi, Prentiss take the left. Reid, Morgan the right. JJ and I will go straight. Clear the area and move toward the history classroom. If we’re right, that’s where they’ll be.” Hotch called out the orders as the team entered the school, immediately splitting up to search each hallway.

Their footsteps echo through the halls of the empty school, clearing each classroom they pass. Minutes later, the team converges on Bradson’s old history classroom. Two voices can be heard inside.

“Answer the question.” Carly Spires sounds enraged, screaming without regard for who could here. “Answer it now!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know who you are or what happened or why you’re so mad at them.” Your voice is quiet in comparison, almost raw from crying. “I don’t know.” The sound of you in pain nearly brings Spencer to tears.

“Wrong again.” She cuts into you again, drawing a scream that you try your best to stifle.

“FBI, drop your weapon.” Hotch moves into the room, followed by Spencer, Derek, Emily, JJ, and Rossi.

“The whole gang’s here. Perfect.” Carly shifts the knife, pointing it into your back, suddenly calm after showing so much rage. “We’ve been playing this little game for hours. What took you so long? I thought my clues were so obvious.”

Spencer made eye contact with you while he moved farther into the room. You did your best to reassure him you were fine, but your smile felt more like a grimace.

“Put the knife down. Now. There’s no way out of this for you.” Hotch tries talking her down, but she just laughs in response.

“No way out huh? That’s what you said to Matthew to get him to abandon me. I had no one left. The only person who ever truly cared about me left, because of you.”

“Carly, Matthew didn’t care about you. He would’ve killed you if we hadn’t of caught him.” Hotch continued.

“Liar! He loved me. And when he left everyone turned on me. I was alone. You took him from me, so I’m taking something from you.” She drove the knife into your back quickly, surprising everyone in the room.

She put her hands up after that, allowing Derek to take her into custody. “Surprise. Not enough time to profile me, bet you didn’t see that coming.” She laughed maniacally, a sickening grin on her face as Derek pulled her from the room.

Spencer stood frozen, watching the life drain out of your eyes as Emily and JJ untied you. Hotch called for a medic, moving Spencer out of the way.

Even when you were on the stretcher, being wheeled out of the room, Spencer couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you leave.

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