#i like to think mr purple tank over here would be similar

[transingthoseformers]

WHY HAVE I NEVER CONSIDERED TARN PISSING HIMSELF

I don't care how it happens, merely that it happens

Humiliate the murderous bastard

[seacottons]

Silent Song of the Sea

Yeosang’s lured and drowned many humans in the sea with his captivating voice. Fortunately, Wooyoung was deaf.

pairings: yeosang x wooyoung, san x reader

wc: 24k+

genre: siren!au, medieval times, royalty!au

warnings: supernatural beings, disabilities, language, blood, angst, gore, fluff, graphic violence, minor character death, domestic abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, implications of suicide, emotional trauma, mental health issues, unprotected sex, crazy reader(?), shiny yeosang

there was a problem with the html, so i had to reupload this. : (

You were twelve years of age when news broke out in your town of a boy who washed up on shore, along with a broken and tattered rescue boat. Chowing down on your breakfast in the dining hall amongst the other orphans, you overheard a few of the workers speaking about the young boy who spent days in the hospital, the town wondering where he came from. It was later that afternoon, when you were huddled with the rest of the other children in the yard that the director bought the young boy to introduce him to everyone. You struggled to peek from the taller children to catch a glimpse of the male, but you were shoved back slightly, the boys in front of you sneering, “Watch it, pipsqueak.”

Wooyoung was twelve years of age when he witnessed a young, tiny, frail child squabbling with a pair of boys. Gasps broke out within the group of children as a fist flew, followed by the crying of one of the young children. Wooyoung’s curious eyes never left your form as you were forcibly dragged inside by your ear, your fist smeared with the boy’s blood. You appeared to be shouting and stomping your feet in retaliation as you were dragged into the housing facility.

It was later that week when you were walking down the hall back to the children’s living space, when you noticed a group of four children surrounding the new kid, who huddled against the wall, beads of tears pooling in his eyes. “Why don’t you talk!” the tallest of the bunch growls in frustration, “You’re no fun at all!”

“Maybe he’s just stupid?” another girl quips, flicking her forefinger against Wooyoung’s forehead, sending the four into a pit of laughter and teasing. A wet squelch broke the train of laughter, and Wooyoung’s jaw dropped at the sight of the opened closet, brooms scattered onto the tiled floor, and you thrusting the wet, dripping mop into one of the children’s faces. Chaos ensued; a squeal of protest from one of the girls, loud footsteps, and bickering filled your ears. “(Y/n)! What do you think you’re doing!?” a worker tugged the mop out of your grasp, tugging you up with an arm securely fastened onto your tummy. You twisted in her hold, palms jutting out against her jaw in protest as you struggled to escape her grip.

“They were bullying Wooyoung!” you cried, and the four kids could only cower and deny your claims, their eyes flashing with fear, “Yes, you were! He’s crying! You said he was stupid!”

The worker stilled, and her eyes narrowed at the four children. A sigh escaped her as she settled you down, a stern expression painting her features, “For once, I think I’ll let you go. As for you four, to the director’s office. Now.” 

You laughed smugly at the sight of the four trudging begrudgingly behind the woman, and you gasped in realization when you remembered the young boy. When your head snapped in his direction, he flinched, eyes wary and hands hurriedly reaching up to wipe his tears away. 

“Y’know, you should really learn how to fight back,” you started, “They deserve a broken tooth or two.” He stared back at you, eyes flickering nervously as he fidgeted in place. You frowned, trying again, “Are you scared of them?  I mean, Minjae is ugly— I would be scared of him too.” The boy’s gaze  mirrored that of the gaping fish that stared at you from their tank in the director’s office. 

You quirked a brow, arms crossing in front of your chest, “Okay. You don’t have to fight. I’ll fight for you. Just say my name, and I’ll be there. I’m (y/n).” Wooyoung’s hesitant hands reached up point two fingers at you, and he shook his head while cupping his hands around the shells of his ears. Suddenly, you understood, face leaning uncomfortably close to his as your jaw dropped, “You can’t hear me!?” You understood when his hands made a motion, your brows raising up in curiosity, “Oh, you use sign language? I don’t really know that. I can draw for you, though. Come on, I’ll show you!”

You were permitted to walk around town for a few hours every day before dinner, and the first place you wanted to visit was the library, much to Wooyoung’s confusion, “My friend, San, owns this library! I mean- his mom, but I’m pretty sure they have a sign language book here we can borrow! San taught me how to write and read, y’know. Maybe we can find a book on how to find your memories too! Oh- wait.. I forgot, sorry. You can’t hear me,” You attempted to use hand signals to display your words, but Wooyoung only chuckled at your failed attempt. You swiftly pulled out your tattered sketchbook, and after a few messy, stick figure drawings, he nodded in acknowledgment. You were met with the sight of San helping his mother place a few books in the high shelves of the library, you bellowed out his name loudly, startling both him and his mother. The woman only giggled underneath her breath whilst her son was quick to shush you with a stern glare, “(Y/n)! You’re in a library!” His gaze suddenly drifted the boy behind you, who wore a similar outfit to your own, freezing immediately and grumbling lowly, “Why are you with one of the orphan boys? I thought you said they’re all gross?” His mother scolded him quietly for the choice of his words, and sent her a pout in return, “Stop embarrassing me in front of my friend!”

You quickly explained to both of them Wooyoung’s lack of memories and situation, and and how you insisted on learning sign language to communicate with him, not noticing San’s eyes narrowing in on the nervous lavender haired boy. San’s mother nodded, smiling and reaching over to ruffle your hair. You caught a glimpse of purple and blue marks underneath the sleeve of her shirt as she told you to wait while she searched for the books you needed. A faint speck of purple was also seen on San’s tummy as he reached up to gently push a book back in place.

“We’re not partners in crime anymore if you’re going to replace me,” San grumbled, fingers idly tracing the spines of the books to his right. “He’s not replacing you, dummy,” you cried defensively, tugging Wooyoung by the wrist and startling him, “He’s going to join us. We can even let him in on our secret.”

San’s eyes rounded comically, before they narrowed, finger jutting out in accusation, “You wouldn’t. We agreed it’ll just be us two taking over the world.” “But he probably wants to go on adventures too,” you offered, “Please? We’ll be like the three muskrats!”

“I’m not letting anyone join our pirate club, no,” he crossed his arms, voice firm and head tilting to the side in protest, “And it’s musketeers, not muskrats, you bum.”

San’s mother returned with a stack of books for you, explaining everything you needed to know. She tugged on your cheek, laughing brightly at the sound of your protest as you shyly swatted it away, “It’s very mature and thoughtful of you for doing this, (y/n). You can come here every day to practice with San. He’ll make time to learn with you.”

“Learn? I never agreed to have extra lessons!” It was later that week that the town of Aurora held a coming-of-age ceremony for the young prince on a Friday night. He was a few years older than you, and you’ve caught glimpses of him every so often when you hung out with San in town. 

Wooyoung, San, and you dressed appropriately, with your town’s traditional garbs. Mrs. Choi, bless her soul, took the three of you shopping beforehand, explaining how today was a very important day for the town and the royal family. San appeared miffed at his slicked back hair, and Wooyoung appeared to enjoy to the texture of the garments as his hands wouldn’t stop rubbing the silky, colorful material, fingers tracing the numerous embroidered floral patterns on the cuffs of his sleeves.

Mrs. Choi left the three of you to walk about, only if you promised you wouldn’t get into trouble. With a bag of silver coins, you three tromped between the crowds, visiting different booths to ogle at the treats displayed. The town was illuminated with an array of colorful lights hung from building to building. Signs and images of the young prince were displayed on every wall, pole, and building. As you munched on your roasted corn, guards of the royal family barked at the crowd to make space for the carriages and other matching guards to pass through. San tugged your sleeve and pointed to the golden palanquin held by four, large guards, the maroon velvet curtains tied to the corners, exposing the young boy sitting peacefully inside. He smiled at the crowd, turning left and right to wave as the guards marched in between the two parallel lines of people.

Whilst San was attempting to remember the hand signs to explain to Wooyoung was happening, you squinted, standing up on your tip-toes to have a better look at the prince. You clambered up on a wooden box, smiling in satisfaction at the better view, before peeking down at the two boys, “Why is the prince wearing such an ugly coat? It looks weird.”

“Watch your mouth, kid.” “That coat is the skin of a siren. It is a symbol of honor and bravery, brat.”

San paled at the harsh words, glancing nervously at the glares of the nearby townspeople, before swatting at your calf with a harsh whisper, “Moron, you can’t say things like that about the royals in public! That coat is tradition for the royal family!” Rolling your eyes at his exasperated tone, you offered a hand to Wooyoung, motioning him to stand with you to get a better view of the all the action. San attempted to follow suit, huffing in anger when he found no space for him to stand. Reaching for the pole beside him, he swiftly shimmied himself up, silently thanking the swordsmanship classes he was forced to partake in.

The prince’s eyes examined almost every face in the crowd. He met yours, and despite hating his attire, you couldn’t help but blush at the piercing gaze. You could’ve sworn his eyes widened at the boy beside you, but you didn’t have time to ponder as Wooyoung signed for you that he was hungry. You paused, eyes squinting in thought, before recognition flashed in your mind.

You nodded, pointing to his belly, to which he nodded in agreement. You dragged a reluctant San and a happy Wooyoung through the crowd, unaware of a pair of eyes lingering on your three forms.

Two months later, San began finally warming up to Wooyoung, much to your pleasure. To finally welcome the newest addition to your ‘Pirate Adventure Club’, he presented three twine bracelets, all with one cowrie shell intertwined in the middle,”Pirates give these to their friends, so they’ll never be apart no matter what.” “I don’t remember that in the pirate guidebook,” you mumbled, blinking at the boy.

“I made it up,” he grumbled bashfully, helping Wooyoung tie the twine on his wrist, “Don’t tell Wooyoung I said that, or else he won’t think I’m cool anymore.”

At fifteen years of age, both San and yourself became proficient at sign language, so much so that sometimes you would often find yourself teasing him with foul signs rather than doing so verbally. He would shove you away, red ears and furrowed brows as Wooyoung laughed beside him, “Stop polluting Wooyoung’s head with that nonsense!”

The three of you became infamous in town. The Troublesome Trio.

When San first informed you about the given title, you cackled, asking who in their right mind came up with that ridiculous name. He shrugged as the three of you walked within the town’s square, Wooyoung quietly observing the pigeons huddled near the center fountain, “You're the one who always picks fights, and Wooyoung and I have to always save your ass, so maybe that’s why.”

San insisted on paying a visit to one of the small antique shops in town, promising to find rare trinkets owned by pirates that washed up on Aurora’s shores. The town was still bustling even in the evening, young kids chasing each other around the neighborhood alleys, vendors charming passersby with their pristinely washed produce, mountains of different colored spices, dry fruits and nuts. Other merchants were determined to attract arrays of customers by displaying the colorful, locally caught fish, eel, and crustaceans on beds of ice. Cats sat idle in every corner, their big eyes fixated on the fresh fish.

 Dry herbs hung from many of the tea shops, and vibrant fabrics blew gently with the soft breeze from the textile shops. A young man carried around baskets of fresh bottled milk, whilst another prepared slabs of butter and goat cheese for the market-goers, charming the people past with his smiles and beautiful notes, the seagulls crying overhead joining in the melody.

“Hey, guys. Look! Isn’t that Pipsqueak and Stupid?”

You furrowed your brows, lips pursing in an attempt to bottle your anger. You knew that obnoxious voice anywhere, and it was a surprise that a boy with a disgusting attitude like him found a home with a willing family. You hoped it was the last you would see him three years ago, but there he was, sitting on a barrel, legs spread and a cocky smirk on his face as he pointed to you, along with two others you recognized from the orphanage. You can tell from the way San’s shoulders stiffened that he intact did hear, eyes still glued ahead of him as he led the way to the merchant’s shop. “Hey! Is your boyfriend still too stupid to attend school?” Sometimes, you were grateful that Wooyoung was deaf, because you knew words like that would crush him. Despite lacking the sense of hearing, he picked up on skills much faster than San and yourself combined. San’s mother helped you learn math, and you quickly learned to hate it. Wooyoung, however excelled at such a pace that it left even San’s mother surprised. San also taught him techniques he learned during his swordsmanship classes, and now, not only were the two taller than you, but broader as well.

“I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me!” A rock pelted against Wooyoung’s neck, startling him. San’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. Your eyes burned with disbelief at the sight of the smirking boy, who proudly adjusted his school uniform’s tie, silently bragging about how privileged he became after being adopted by one of the wealthier families in town.

Your hands grasped one of the thin wooden sticks of the fruit stalls beside you, the owner barking at you in protest, stuck behind the stand dealing with a few confused customers. San’s hands flew to grasp your elbow, a concerned Wooyoung gazing at you from behind him in confusion, “(Y/n)! Don't! He’s not worth it!” he insisted.

“Let me,” you spat, tugging your arm away and stomping towards the taller male, “I’ll stake him like the squealing pig he is.”

The three boys hunched over in laughter at your empty threat, nudging each other and surrounding you threateningly. Minjae threw his backpack to the side, hands reaching up to crack his knuckles, “I don’t hit kids, but since all you are is an angry demon no one wants, I don’t think anyone will mind me giving you a bruise or two. Maybe I should knock Stupid’s head too. He’ll probably start hearing afterwards, yeah?”

San protested, yelling out your name and sprinting to defend you, but before he was halfway across the cobblestone path, you threw the wooden stake aside, relying on your hands to pulverize the taller male in front of you. He tugged at your hair as you tackled him down, hands tugging at his tie, and aiming a punch at his nose, the sound of gravel crunching beneath your wrestling forms. The two of you rolled repeatedly on the cobblestones, feet kicking and fists flying, “You piece of shit, how dare you say those things about Wooyoung! I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to the seagulls!”

Vendors and customers paused to watch the squabble, kids pointing and ushering their parents to see the commotion. You shoved Minjae onto one of the glass doors of a shop, the raised threshold clipping his ankle, leading to fall backwards into the glass. He growled, head snapping up to meet the eyes of his two friends, “Stop staring and help me out, cowards!”

Their faces grew pale at the sight behind the cracked glass doors, and after sharing a look, they nodded and hastily retreated. A look of disbelief washed over Minjae’s face, and your snicker only boiled his anger even further. With a growl, he tackled you down harshly onto the floor, your eyes widening at the sudden lunge. You didn’t even care at the taste of blood on your busted lip as you struck him in between the legs, eyes furious as you shoved him off, hands reaching up to wipe at your mouth,“Can’t handle a pipsqueak by yoursel—”

“What’s going on here?” Your eyes flickered to well polished shoes behind Minjae’s figure, traveling up to meet the eyes of the prince, crown shining in display, golden coat and pristine white leather sparkling underneath the golden hours of the evening. His face grew even more handsome since the last you’ve seen him, jaw becoming sharper, and eyes more mature. Behind him stood a taller male, hair as striking and vibrant as the crushed geranium flowers Mrs. Choi uses as rouge, “The Commander won’t be happy to hear about this, will he, Minjae?”

Minjae’s eyes widened in recognition, scrambling up to grab at his fallen backpack, his form tripping as he scurried off in fear. You stared at the gloved hand offered to you, and you gladly accepted it, the older male pulling you up onto your feet, “Ah, aren’t you that trio..”

His eyes trailed from your small stature to San and Wooyoung, his brown eyes lingering on the latter a bit longer. You dusted your attire, snorting at the sight of your panic stricken friends, “Yep. Just getting rid of rats on your streets, Hongjoong,” while not personally knowing the member of the royal family, you found comfort in the fact he wasn’t that much older than you and your friends. Surely, he’s just like other kids beneath the silk, leather, golden garments and dazzling jewelry.

The red-haired bodyguard, who didn’t seem that much older than you and your friends, glowered with piercing eyes at your smaller frame, disbelief clouding his eyes at the insolent behavior. 

San slapped his forehead, exasperation lacing his voice as he shouted in your ear, “He’s royalty! You can’t just call Prince Hongjoong by his name, (y/n)-”

Hongjoong lifted a palm, shaking his head, a gentle smile gracing his features, “That is quite alright. I don’t mind. Mingi here calls me Hongjoong, as well. It makes me feel.. ah, young, perhaps? Right, Mingi?” he swiveled his head slightly to eye the stoic guard.

“You’re not even that old, though,” you began, earning you a glare from both San and the prince’s bodyguard at your informal tone. Wooyoung awkwardly held onto your fallen hat, eyes trained on the prince’s mouth in order to attempt to read his lips.

“Ah, yes. You are correct,” Hongjoong simpered, white hair delicately styled and falling into his eyes as he spoke, “but when you have princely duties, it makes you forget that you are still so young.”

There was a hint of sorrow in his voice that you detected, one so subtle and faint like the salty smell of the ocean encasing your town. The smile he wore didn’t exactly reach his eyes, his lips stretching too wide for it to be out of genuine content. Your bloody lips parted, eyes wide as you spoke, softly this time, “You’re still a kid before you’re a prince. You should live a little and have fun every once in a while.”

He offered you a white handkerchief at the glimpse of blood dribbling down your chin, chuckling at the sight of your stunned and flushed expression at the sweet gesture, “You have a point, but maybe I will attempt something other than fighting.. rats in the street.”

His smile sent your face and neck flushing in embarrassment, and you were quick to wave him goodbye as he was pulled away by a few of his guards. Watching the carriage disappear, you failed to notice San glowering at you beside you as you ogled at the disappearing horses, “(Y/n), you can’t just keep picking fights like that. Must you always seek trouble?”

“He asked for it.”

‘(Y/n) is a bad influence. Don’t get any ideas, please,’ He signed to an amused looking Wooyoung.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.

Your brows furrowed, watching the two exchange words silently, your arms crossing in annoyance.

‘Assholes.’

“(Y/n)!”

— At seventeen, the three of you came to conclusion just how cruel and dangerous the beings that lurked in the sea were. San had a rough night with his father again, and with his mother’s insistence, he joined you both to the beach to clear his mind of the suffocating negativity that filled his household. 

A large, canvas umbrella shielded the three of you from the blazing sun. Even from here, the sound of the town’s clock tower chiming, signaling noon, can be heard. San’s head rested on your lap, his straw hat covering his face as he dozed off to your fingers gently running through his dark locks. He was exhausted after hours of swimming and playing volleyball with other kids your age. Sand coated the skin between his toes and a small baby seagull occasionally circled around his legs, curiously eyeing the bag of chips you were sharing with Wooyoung.  

The other male sat to your right, attempting to sketch the shore and moss covered rocks that broke the waves’ paths. He absentmindedly sipped on a bottle of juice, brows furrowed in determined concentration, his back littered with specks of sand from being buried up to his neck by San.

Peering up from his half completed sketch, his eyes were drawn onto the tiny boats and hardy people paddle boarding yards away from shore, despite the occasional gusts of wind. The waves crashed loudly into the clusters of rocks, foam spraying high in the air with every roar of water. The blue waters of the ocean were so clear that often times children would run around chasing the languid fish that found themselves swimming past their feet near the shore. Pebbles and other tiny marine life can be spotted on the sandy bed, the webs of sunlight dancing on the surface. 

A sudden flash of a purple fin stopped him in his tracks, his eyes squinting to make out the form. Another turquoise tail fin breeched the surface, but just as quickly dove back into the water. The two paddle boarders paused, glancing curiously at the two heads that rose from the water. 

Wooyoung watched in confusion as the men dropped their paddles, jaws slackening and frames growing stiff, as if in a deep trance. It happened too fast for his mind to register clearly, but one second the men are standing on their boards, and the next they’re both diving in hastily. His eyes rounded, fingers losing their grip on his bottle, the pomegranate juice spilling onto his sketch, startling you. Before you asked, your head snapped to the direction of his gaze, but you wish you hadn’t.

“Is that a siren?” you heard out in the distance.

A blonde haired creature’s mouth suddenly clamped down onto the screaming man’s neck, angular teeth piercing the skin and severing veins and muscle as he threw his head back roughly, red flesh intact in his mouth. Red liquid glugs from the victim’s lips and the severed carotid, pumping red into the ocean. 

The screams were so shrill you swore they could curdle blood.

Claws pierce the man’s eye-sockets rupturing the globes with a sickening pop, the left eye dangling only by the stubborn, red optical nerve, leaving behind a bloody and empty pit. The siren’s unforgiving lashes met the victim’s face, sharp and jagged nails tearing the man’s visage and shredding his jaw.

Moments later, the creature dives into the water, turquoise tail flashing just before its disappearance. The corpse is suddenly tugged down with such intensity that the red seawater swashes roughly with a loud plop, sea foam being the only indication of movement. Feet away, his friend is met with the same fate. 

The tails breached the surface near a sailboat, the people in it suddenly halting their movements while listening to the sirens’ voices. Wooyoung didn’t need to hear the screams of the people swimming nearby. The wave of fear washing over everyone present at the beach was enough indication.

He gaped in horror, his eyes watching as the beach goers pulled frightened children out of the water, others frantically grabbing their belongings and rushing in hoards for safety, clouds of sand left in their wake. Sandpipers and seagulls flew amongst the crazed crowd, disturbed at the sudden chaos around them. 

San suddenly jerked awake at the sound of a loud siren ringing from one of the pop shacks at the beach. He sat up in surprise, hat falling into his lap, and hand clutching his chest in surprise.

“What happened!?”

That night, the King sent guards around town to announce the banishment of swimming and other ocean sports, threatening anyone who broke the law to be executed by enforced drowning. A team was sent to the beach to pick up the torn flesh and limbs of the victims that washed up on shore. It was a horrid sight, the stench of death prominent and wafting through even the smallest crevice of the town. 

The three of you paid a visit to the vigil honoring the five people killed that day, the images of the brutal deaths haunting both Wooyoung and yourself in your sleep. The two of you joined each other on the lower bunk, arms coiled around each other for a source of comfort no one else could provide you with. The once vibrant atmosphere of the bustling town was replaced with an eerily quiet one- one that was stained with an ugly shade of fear and melancholy. — You were eighteen years of age when were moved out from the orphanage to a facility that housed other orphans, agreeing to partake in labor to help provide for both yourself and the establishment. Wooyoung soon joined you, and as much as you wanted for him to be with a family of his own, you were still happy he stuck around with you. He felt like family. 

The two of you landed jobs aiding fishermen catch and deliver the locally caught fish to merchants and markets. You rolled the sleeves of poofy tunic up, fastened the tied cloth around your waist and winced at the sudden gust of wind that blew your wide-brimmed hat off your head in an instant. 

It was a typical day on the fishing trawler. You were miles away from the coast, Wooyoung and yourself aiding the fishermen haul fish into different compartments, picking out the other creatures that were caught along with the school of fish. A storm battered the ship, but not enough for the helmsman to steer the ship back to port, despite the crew’s growing concern. 

Wooyoung grasped your elbow as you slipped onto the deck, waves crashing against the sides of the vessel. You thanked him with a nod of acknowledgment, hand shakily grasping the railing, brown boots sliding with every sway of the boat. He pointed to the hatch, hoping you’ll understand his implications without the use of hand signs. He was clearly fed up with the lack of concern from the fishermen, urging you with his eyes to crawl inside for safety. 

You opened your mouth to word out a reply, when a sudden jerk to the left caused you both to lose your grip. Wooyoung’s hands stabilized himself against the deck, his face scrunched in pain at the impact of his fall, watching in horror as the vessel tilted dangerously, a wave impelling the sides and sweeping you away with it. His hand flew to grasp your foot, only managing to graze the bottom of your boot in the process.

He was quick on his feet to inform the closest person about you falling overboard. His hands desperately clutched the orange lifebuoy, throwing it to where he spotted your head bobbing within the harsh waves. 

You met his gaze, hands reaching to grab the ring, when you felt a clawed hand grasp your ankle. In the time it took you to knit your brows in confusion at the sensation, you suddenly gasped in realization, earning you only a few more milliseconds of air before you were swiftly plunged down into the raging ocean. You were welcomed with the deafening roar of your heartbeat in your ears and the burning sensation in your sinuses. Beams of sunlight occasionally shined within the raging waters before they disappeared behind the dark plumes of clouds.

You hadn’t properly prepared to take a deep breath, your mouth parting open in shock at the sight of a beautiful, black haired man. Your stunned eyes were suddenly drawn to his puckering gills and outstretched smile, showcasing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. The purple fins on his neck and forearms shimmered with every flap and movement. 

He appeared to laugh as he teasingly swam around your frame, circling and eyeing you like prey. The delighted smile on his visage stretched wide, resembling the evil creatures drawn in the folklore books you read as a child. His iridescent, violet tail and fins tickled the skin of your neck, and your lungs began burning with the lack of oxygen, the subtle sounds of waves crashing joining in with the loud drumming of your pulse.

“My, my,” he chuckled, dark hues locked on your panic stricken face, “I didn’t even have to sing to get you to come to me, little human.”

The two of you were suspended in a neutral state of buoyancy, clouds of marine life occasionally passing by. Your blood ran so cold that it felt more like being electrocuted than anything else. You had to get yourself out immediately, before the lack of oxygen kills you or before the siren rips you apart like ribbons.

One second he was eyeing you curiously, and the next you struggled to escape his hold, teeth snapping and threatening to bite your neck open, your frames swaying with the waves’ thrusts, even from below the surface. Your mind had no time to keep up with your body’s involuntary actions, your fingers digging harshly into the gaps of his gills and clawing desperately in an attempt to escape. 

Your movements weren’t as clean and swift as they would’ve been on land, but your frenzied mind paid no thought. He winced at the onslaught of scratches, pulling away to clutch at his neck in pain, giving you the briefest amount of time to swim up, your arms securely wrapping around the ring and shouting up with a desperate cry. Waves rocked your frame, the water sloshing harshly around you, and hope slowly trickled in as you felt the line tug upwards to safety.

 As soon as your legs surfaced the water, the same hand breached past the waves, long nails digging into the skin of your calf, before getting caught in the buckles of your brown boot, slipping it off with ease as the siren fell back into the water. Beady eyes glowered at you as you were hoisted up the ship.

Arms were wrapped around your frame as soon as you landed in a wet, bloody heap on deck, Wooyoung’s concerned face invading your vision. His eyes flew from your leg to your bleeding, bitten hand, and finally your face. From the raindrops pattering his skin you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. He held you so tightly against his frame, fingers coiling into your wet locks, his chest heaving heavily in panic. Your widened eyes could only stare straight ahead, arms weakly tangling around his form.

Four years later and you were left with lumpy, jagged scars on your left leg and hand. There was no action taken against the fishermen that you worked for, though. You didn’t have the money or means to do anything, so Wooyoung and you decided it was best to change the tasks you were meant to complete. Delivering fish from the ports to the markets instead of helping the fishermen at sea was a much better and safer option.

The two of you fell into the same boring routine. You heard mockeries under people’s breaths regarding the two of you- how nobody wanted to adopt you due to your troublesome behavior, and Wooyoung due to the fact that he was deaf. You wanted to beat the nonsense out of the people who spoke ill of you, but you knew in doing so it would prove their point. Over the years, you have calmed down, though. Only slightly.

Grumbling to yourself, you trudged up the narrow cobblestone path, Wooyoung by your side. The two of you carried nets of freshly caught fish, ready to be displayed at the fish market. The streets were mostly empty, the orange rays of the sun filtering out the darkness as it ever so slowly broke past the horizon, golden beams shining onto the numerous white and seaglass-blue buildings. You passed the formal gardens, your eyes glued to the plumes of vibrant colors showcased behind the copper gates, wondering what it would feel like to have a picnic with your friends there. San will love it, his love for flowers inherited from his mother.

‘I’m going to smell like fish all day,’ You signed to Wooyoung, your posture and facial expression giving away your feelings even beforehand.  

His biceps flexed as he adjusted the bags in his grip, unable to reply back as his hands were full. His sleeveless shirt displayed his toned, tanned arms, leather pants fitting quite nicely on his form. You knew he was teasing you as he took larger and quicker strides, leaving you behind. You waddled your way after him, your protests quite literally falling on deaf ears. 

You traded the fish for a sachet of silver coins, making sure to count the amount before your departure from the seafood market. On your way back to the docks, you stopped to grab a loaf of freshly baked bread and tea, offering the taller male walking with you. Elderly women can be spotted hunching down to tend to their rice fields, wide brimmed hats shielding them from the rising sun.

 Children began walking down the streets, dressed in the typical blue and white school uniform. You occasionally wished that Wooyoung and yourself grew up with those privileges- only worrying about upcoming tests and what meal you’ll devour after coming back from school. Despite the tiring labor, Wooyoung and yourself at least had each other’s company to enjoy, and you were grateful to have him by your side every second.

Overall, the waters were quite safe since that incident that occurred five years ago. The fishermen treated you both very well, always slapping at Wooyoung’s broadened shoulders and biceps playfully. They often teased you about being in a relationship, but quickly learned the sibling dynamic between the two of you. Wooyoung’s nose always scrunched in distaste at the memory.  

It was noon and the two of you finally finished your daily fish delivery trips. You decided to pay San a visit at his family’s library, his nose immediately scrunching up while he greeted you at the front desk. 

‘Would it kill you two to go shower before you visit?‘ he signed in annoyance, fingers then clamping around his mouth and nose.

You attempted to hug him, and he hastily backed away in his seat, a book smacking you in the arm in retaliation, a strangled sound emitting from the back of his throat, “Stop, (y/n)!” 

“But I missed you, Sannie,” you frowned, pulling Wooyoung forward by the elbow, ‘Wooyoung wants a hug too.’

‘You won’t die if I don’t hug you,’ San shook his head, propping the frames on his nose a bit higher, giving you two a pointed look.

‘Yes we will,’ Wooyoung protested, a pout finding itself onto his features, earning him a glare from San as you cackled,’Are you ready for the competition later?’

‘More than ever. Too bad the brat can’t attend,’ Wooyoung snorted at the response, hastily covering his mouth as you gave him a swift, sharp look. It was no surprise that Wooyoung used his hard earned silver coins to enlist in San’s swordsmanship school, much to the other’s delight. Tonight was the end of the season’s competition, but to your dismay, you had errands to complete before the prince’s coronation tomorrow.

San was peeved at the idea of you not attending, but Wooyoung clearly saw the irritation being directed at the fact that you couldn’t attend because of the prince and not due to the errands you were forced to complete. He rolled his eyes whilst gazing at your mouths moving rapidly in a display of ongoing bickering. The two of you were so oblivious to each other, Wooyoung found it gross. Endearing, but gross.

Later that night, Wooyoung returned home to the housing facility, his nose scrunching up in delight as he proudly displayed his second place trophy in the air. Throwing your arms around his neck and shaking his frame excitedly, you laughed as he stumbled back from the sudden attack. 

‘I’m so, so proud of you!’

A smile found itself resting on his features as he tugged you close to return the gesture. 

He was beyond grateful to have someone that felt like family.

Wooyoung rubbed the small amount of rose water in his hands and brushed his fingers through your hair, giving it a gentle tussle. He adjusted the clips holding your hair in place, before eyeing your reflection in the mirror, throwing a thumbs up and proceeding to pinch your cheeks. Swatting his hands away in protest, you turned to examine yourself at a different angle,’Do you think purple suits me?’

‘Of course. Every color suits you.’

‘But do you think I look good in purple? Should I wear the blue one instead?’

‘I’m pretty sure San will love it. Two of his favorite-’

You furiously signed that you did not even bring San’s name into the conversation, and Wooyoung snickered at your flustered reaction. You hated how well he read you- how easily he read every feeling you attempted to bury and conceal. 

And you hated the fact that you had no confidence to confess your feelings in the first place.

The night of Prince Hongjoong’s coronation was much like the night of his coming-of-age celebration, only now Wooyoung and you were older— and being older meant partying harder.

Wooyoung watched you stumble into a pole, snickering and tugging you towards himself to stabilize your tipsy form. San shook his head as he walked back towards you with three sticks of fried pastry, his lips parting to scold you, “You're lightweight! You shouldn’t have drank so much, (y/n).”

Wooyoung has spent a good amount of time with the both of you, and after years of friendship, he often picked up on reading your lips as you two argued. He rubbed your shoulders in silent understanding, knowing fully well you downed that liquor in hopes of gaining confidence to actually look San in the eye and not have to deal with flushed ears and bickering to conceal your feelings. San in traditional garments was your utter weakness.

It had the opposite effect, really. You complained about his voice being too loud, and how the lights were too bright around you— how the smells of the street food were too strong. Wooyoung offered you a bottle of water, forcing you to down it all in one go in order to clear your mind a bit. He gave San a knowing smile as he watched from the sidelines, adam’s apple bobbing nervously at the sight of streaks of water cascading down from the corners of your lips and onto your neck, your clavicles glistening underneath all of the oil lamps illuminating the streets. Once catching the lavender haired male’s smirking gaze, the other silently scrunched his face in embarrassment, swiftly turning away to eye the closest confectionery shop.

Underneath the star-filled sky, the townspeople chatted amongst each other, many of them drunk and attempting to form dance circles in the town square. Many musicians filled the streets, the sweet and joyous melodies dancing in between every corner and alley of Aurora. A few women danced with delicate and sensual sways of their hips to the beats of darbuka drums and oud notes, hungry eyes watching their every move. The scent of tobacco and alcohol filled the air. An hour later, you felt better, mind clearing slightly. 

The smell of fresh pastries and milk custards wafted through the air, as you shared a large piece of cinnamon cake between the other two boys. Wooyoung stood up, informing you that he needed to buy water and possibly use the restroom. 

It was only when you were left alone with San, you suddenly felt like a small and helpless bug without Wooyoung’s presence and emotional support. You can face San on normal days, but when he’s dressed like this, hair slicked back, and the back of his ears and wrists shining with sandalwood oil-based perfume, your confidence crumbled into a mere speck of dust.

“You look pretty,” he started, voice quiet as his kohl lined eyes fixate on the cake between the two of you, “Purple suits you, you know?”

You scrambled to find a coherent reply, mind too frazzled at the sudden bold comment from the man across from you,. You needed to be casual, natural- needed to say something that won’t scare him off, or make you sound too desperate.

“You look hot when you spar.”

His eyes widened in surprise at your confession, jaw dropping in disbelief, cinnamon frosting and cake crumbs coating his cupid’s bow, and you suddenly wished you drank more of that nasty rum earlier.

Half an hour passed as the two of you awkwardly exchanged hints and implications of your feelings, when suddenly your brows furrowed, your frame rising up from your seat at the wooden table, “Okay, now I know for a fact that he’s lost. It’s been too long-”

“But he knows his way through town, (y/n). Besides, this is his favorite bakery— no way he’ll get lost,” San reassured, finger flicking the strand of hair that fell into his gaze. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hand running through your hair as you took a few steps away from the table, calling out back to him, “You stay here in case he comes back. I’ll go look for him, okay?”

After a nod of approval, you sauntered off among the sea of crowds searching for a mop of purple hair. You grew tired after half an hour of searching, even returning back to San in hopes that Wooyoung found his way back. When he saw dread fill your eyes at absence of the male, he stood up, cupping your your panic stricken face and telling you to calm down.

“You check the south, and I’ll check north, got it? We’ll meet at the same spot after half an hour,” he squeezed your shoulder and offered a small smile, “He’ll be okay. He’s Warrior Wooyoung after all. I trained him well.”

Fifteen minutes ticked by and you attempted to push down the heavy and negative thoughts invading your mind. This was not like back in the orphanage. Wooyoung was not the little, scared, helpless little boy. He was strong, brave, and—

You walked straight into a firm chest, hands reaching up to stabilize you as you stumbled back on your feet, head snapping up to apologize, “Ah, Pipsqueak. You’ve grown quite nicely since the last time I’ve seen you.”

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice, you hand immediately reaching up to swat at his arms, only for him to pull back defensively. Oh, how you hated the sight of his face and the sound of his voice. The gods must have loved Wooyoung for not granting him the sense of hearing, because you knew Minjae’s voice was disgusting enough to make anyone’s ear’s bleed. 

“Whoa- whoa! So hot-headed, still?” He laughed, eyes tracing every curve of your frame as he took a few steps back,”I see you’ve only psychically changed. But here,” he tapped his temple, broad shoulders on full display as he crossed arms,”You're still the same kid who was all bark and no bite.”

“I punched you, and you cried like a baby in front of the entire orphanage,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

The amusement in his eyes drifted away like the clouds blanketing the bright, full moon. You hated to admit it, but now that he was much, much taller than you, broader than you, and clearly stronger than you, it made you just a tiny bit anxious. You had no doubt that he’ll be able to manhandle you with just one hand, easily taking you down. A sneer met his features, “Ah, the day your idiot of a boyfriend was introduced to us, right? I heard you were also locked in the director’s closet as punishment.”

“Say that again, I dare you,” you spat back, mirroring his own sneer. He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back slightly against the wall beside him, as a snort of amusement escapes his  throat, “Why? Don’t like when I talk about him? Can’t believe Stupid grew up to beat me in second place,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully, “It’ll be the last time, though. I can guarantee you that, love.”

Silence struck between the two of you.

You stared at his cocky smirk, his last words reverberating in your mind. His smile only broadened at the sight of horror and realization washing over your features. Suddenly, he found himself jerked down by the collar of his traditional garb, your hands itching to clobber that smile off his chiseled visage, “What did you do to him! Where is he!?”

He laughed at your attempt to intimidate him, gently prying your fists off of him as he patted the crown of your head in mock affection, “Don’t know. Maybe he’s partying, maybe he’s with San, or maybe..” he straightened his back, lips pursing whilst tapping his temple in thought, “..he’s being eaten alive by the sirens. Your guess, Sweetheart.”

You didn’t even realize you were already tripping on your feet to reach the docks in the southern part of town, Minjae’s amused laughter ringing behind you, your heart hammering in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins. You pushed past drunkards, guards, adults, and hell- even children without a second glance or care in the world. There was no time to find San, the tears in your eyes flying into the air like tiny pearls as you flung yourself corner after corner between the blue and white buildings in a rush to reach the shore.

You will never forgive yourself if you didn’t find him alive. — Wooyoung was angered at his predicament. He should have known it was a trap, but he had a big heart, deciding to push his suspicions away when a lady asked him for help regarding her puppy at the beach. Well, at least that’s what he assumed when she pulled out a picture of a dog, pointing in the general direction of the harbor.

As soon as his suspicions surfaced, it was too late. She turned around so quickly, he had no time to react when she swung her heavy, straw bag onto his head, stumbling back and shielding his face. He was then ambushed by a group of men, who then proceeded to not only tie his wrists and ankles together, but also shove him in one of the smaller docked boats, working quickly to untie the thick ropes attaching it to the dock, allowing it to drift off yards away into the dark sea. 

Even during his delirious state, he didn’t fail to recognize one face in particular- the same face who glowered at him while he received the second place trophy yesterday night. Even with third place, Minjae still wasn’t satisfied, not when the kid he loved to pick on beat him at his own game, with much less training and practice. His ego was as easy to bruise as a banana.

With no paddle or oar, Wooyoung’s attempts to return back to shore with his bound hands were fruitless. As the boat drifted off even further, he flung his hands to grasp the edge of the jagged rocks, finger scraping against the barnacles and limpets that cracked underneath his steady grip. The blankets of green algae coating the rock causes his fingers to slip and slide, sharp points of the rocks and tiny mussels no help in aiding him whatsoever.

Panic and dread settled in his system, much to his displeasure. San taught him that a clear mind will do wonders when one in is in trouble, however looking at his situation now, it’s almost inevitable what will happen to him. He can barely make out the dock now, the glow of the town still visible from where he grasped onto the rocks for dear life, feet still bound in the boat. It was dark outside, people were busy with the coronation, and he couldn’t hear anything or anyone. 

The waves were strong and yet gentle at this distance, the boat rocking noisily against the large stones. The moon’s reflection in the water rippled, and a mop of blonde hair surfaced, startling Wooyoung suddenly. The being’s lips moved slowly, as if he were chanting calmly, eyes holding a mischievous fire within them. The man’s skin had an iridescent glow to it underneath the moonlight, specks of turquoise lining the sides of his neck and cheekbones. 

“Which human is stupid enough to take a swim at night during a full moon, hm?”

Pectoral fins on his neck flapped gently in the water, gill cavities visible from where Wooyoung stood. The being’s hair was reminiscent of the golden threads of the royal family garbs, and Wooyoung could only gape in sheer shock at the creature’s beauty. When he made no move to submerge himself in the water, the creature circled around the boat, brows furrowing in confusion. His lips moved rapidly now, shaping words Wooyoung had a difficult time deciphering, especially with such dim lighting.

From this distance, Wooyoung made out a large turquoise tail, which glimmered within the moonlight right below the surface of the water, and only then did he realize that the creature was the same one in the books he’s read about in San’s library as a child. However, this time, you weren’t there to fight the imaginary creatures on his behalf, and he was alone, stuck at sea along with said creature.The drawings did little to no justice in capturing the painful beauty of the beasts, though.

The siren’s lips parted, teeth so sharp like the daggers he trained with, anger now evident in his eyes as he swam much too close to Wooyoung’s comfort. “Why are you not abandoning your boat to come to me, you filthy human?” the creature sneered, jagged claws scraping at the edge of Wooyoung’s boat. 

Golden eyes widened as Wooyoung swatted the creature’s hands away in retaliation. The siren reeled back in surprise, shock enveloping his features as the human glowered down at him. Bounded hands or not, Wooyoung will not go down without a fight. If you were here, you would be proud, he thinks.

When the creature attempts to grasp the edge of the boat once more, tilting it down to capsize it, Wooyoung’s hands reach out to scrape long stripes onto the being’s arms, his scaly, slippery flesh cool to the touch. He made no attempt to smirk cockily at the shocked creature as it pulled back with a hiss. It still had the upper hand in this situation. Warily, the golden haired being swayed gently along with the waves, his eyes searching for an answer in the boy’s face. Turning hastily to eye the structure of the rock, Wooyoung contemplated trying to climb onto the high surface for safety despite his restraints. Maybe the morning sailors and fishermen will find him in the early hours of the morning.

“Ah, you’re quite boring,” he drawled in disgust, “I like them when they scream and cry.”

This is definitely a crazy one. Maybe Seonghwa will enjoy tearing him open instead.

Wooyoung startled at the noise that invaded his mind, frantically looking around for the source, only for his eyes to lock onto the back of the being’s head. Did he just hear? That was a voice, right? 

‘Are you talking about me?’

The creature was now far enough for the reflection of the moon to ripple between the two. 

‘Hey! Was that you speaking? How can I hear you?’

Wooyoung was certainly not expecting shock to wash over the being’s features, his lips parting in a silent gasp as he turned his head to gaze back at him over his scaly shoulder, golden orbs widening. Just who was this human?

‘How are you communicating with me telepathically? This is not possible,’ the creature made no move to swim closer, uncertainty in its eyes,’What kind of human are you, boy?’

Wooyoung didn’t know how to respond, the confusion in his eyes mirroring the creature’s,’I don’t know,’ his hands gripped the boulders roughly as a harsh wave rocked the boat. With desperate eyes, he pleaded to the creature,’Please help me reach back to shore.’

Wooyoung didn’t need to hear to know how amused the creature was at his words. Throwing his head back with laughter, golden strands glimmering with every movement,’A siren? Helping a human?’ he swam slowly to the purple haired male, golden orbs narrowing into a threatening glare as he spat his next words harshly,’I don’t help your kind. I find it much more amusing to rip you measly humans open by your throats, watching your life flash before your eyes as you choke on your blood, before you sink to the pits of the ocean where your pathetic wastes of bodies are gnawed on by sea creatures. You should’ve listened to the warnings in your bedtime stori-’

“Wooyoung!” 

The motion of the siren’s head snapping to the side bought Wooyoung’s attention up to that direction, eyes squinting to make out a figure struggling to make it past the onset of waves in a small coracle. Relief washed over him, his eyes widened in recognition, unable to wave his bound hands in fear of losing his grip of the rocks. 

“Oh, thank the heavens you’re—”

Knowing fully well he couldn’t hear you, you couldn’t help but shout in relief at the mere sight of his intact body. It was only when you noticed the head of blonde hair in the water that the oar nearly slipped out of your hands. In a desperate attempt to further the distance between Wooyoung and that damned siren, you were quick to whip your shoes in its direction, aiming for the creature’s head. 

“Get away from him!”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at your actions, shaking his head frantically to get your attention,’Stop, you idiot!’ His face said it all, but you were too engrossed in yelling profanities at the creature, whose eyes flickered from the floating shoes and back to your heated face. When the siren’s lips curled back, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight to make his way to end your life, Wooyoung rushed to stop him, knowing fully well what will conclude if he didn’t,‘Stop! No! Don’t hurt, (y/n)! Please.’

‘One strange human after another. Give me one reason I shouldn’t snap this human roach’s neck this instant,’ the creature hissed underneath his breath, molten gold orbs furiously trained on your approaching figure. Wooyoung’s eyes frantically flickered back and forth from your outraged form and back to the crouching siren, whose face sunk in the water until he was eye level with the surface,’Well?’

‘(Y/n).. (y/n) is my lover?,’ Wooyoung threw in a white lie, wincing at the irrational thoughts he shared with the creature. Whether or not the creature knew he was lying, he hoped that was enough to deter him, even slightly. Golden eyes peered at him in faint curiosity, a scoff escaping the creature’s lips in bubbles, before he dipped himself fully underneath the water’s surface, swimming his way in your direction, ignoring the frantic thoughts of the purple haired male drilling in his mind.

You glared down at the creature underneath the water, whose amused eyes studied your seething form. You aimed the oar, plunging it down with a loud plop of the water. A laugh rang out behind you, and you found yourself suddenly tilting face first into the water. Your frantic swimming came to a halt when the creature circled around you beneath the surface, long turquoise tail curling around your frame in amusement. Beams of moonlight illuminated his iridescent face, which was mere inches away from your own, his lips stretching wide to reveal two rows of sharp, jagged teeth, golden strands dancing and framing his face beautifully. 

You refused to allow this fish to scare you– not like last time. It was that sudden impulse that prompted you to angrily tug at the fins on his neck, before you gripped his long, wavy locks back, fingers roughly digging into the gaps of his gills. 

If you had air, you would’ve laughed at the stupefied expression on his face, but before you made another move, his tail smacked you upside the head, taking you by surprise. He wriggled away from your grasp, swimming away and allowing the darkness of the ocean to engulf his figure. 

Breaking the surface of the ocean, you spotted a panic stricken Wooyoung, whose shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of your smiling face. You ignored the glare he sent you as you swam a few feet to retrieve the floating oar, before making your way over to his boat, struggling to climb in. You clung onto his dry form, hands cupping his face to examine it and his neck, looking for any sign of harm.

He struggled to sign words with his bound hands, his chin jutting in the general direction of the shore, silently asking you to start paddling. Golden hair and eyes broke the surface of the water yards behind the boat, watching you struggle to keep the boat steady and straight. ‘Visit me again, Human. You’ve intrigued me.’ Wooyoung’s head snapped back at the sound, but all he could make out was a ripple of the water. You found yourself hunched down, a jagged stone in hand as you attempted to slice through the hemp twine encasing Wooyoung’s limbs. The two of you walked to the nearby promenade, the low lighting of the lampposts around you not aiding your sight in the slightest. With the adrenaline now fading away, the reality of what just occurred finally began to sink in your frazzled mind. Your hands trembled as you sliced through, tears dropping in pearls onto the pavement. You were so, so close to losing the only person you called family. Was this the feeling of what having a family meant? The impending doom one feels when their loved one is in danger? You hated it. You loved Wooyoung, but you hated this foreign feeling. It was ugly and it tore you down from the inside out, disrupting your breathing pattern and train of thought. Off to the side, the gentle waters rocked the small dinghies and larger day boats nestled on the side of the promenade. The moon’s reflection was stunning against the calmer waters of this side of town. “Where have you been!?” San’s frantic cry snapped your attention from cutting the bonds around Wooyoung’s arms, and up to the confused, ebony haired male who hunched forward, clutching the wall to steady his breathing,”I checked the entire south shore! Minjae said Wooyoung-” “You best believe I’ll have him expelled from your school after the stunt he pulled,” you growled, finally tugging the last of the thick twine from the purple haired boy’s limbs, your hands still trembling with anger, before you hurled the stone against one of the smaller boats, the water rippling as it dropped down, “I’ll— I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll snap his neck in half- as soon as I get my hands on him I-.. I will squeeze his throat until he’s as blue as the ocean..” Wooyoung’s hands fisted around your lithe fingers, his arms pulling you into his chest tightly as you desperately gripped the back of his shirt, too afraid to let him go. San’s expression fell at the sight, his hands reaching to rub the both of your backs. ‘Are you okay?’ San pulled the other into a hug, hand cradling the other’s head tenderly. Wooyoung pulled away to nod, a silent storm forming in his brown hues, which you two failed to see past the anger and relief that washed upon reuniting with your friend. Later on, San happily visited you to inform you of Minjae’s expulsion from the swordsmanship program, the school stripping away all of the past medals he obtained. He was happy to have him gone and have you not behind bars for attempted murder. He refused to let you know where Minjae lives. — Peeling his eyes open, Wooyoung found himself submerged within the dark depths of the ocean. No marine life swam by, and strong beams of sunlight danced beneath the surface of the water. He kicked his legs and arms in an attempt to swim up to the surface. Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt the need for air. A few seconds before he breached the surface, a kind face hovered above the water, the person’s visage distorted with the moving water. A hand plunged down the water hastily, the pads of two fingers grazing his forehead ever so gently, before he found himself being dragged down to the ocean’s dark trenches by a strong force, his arm instinctively flinging up to try and reach the outstretched hand. He felt a scream slip past his lips as a clawed hand pierced through the flesh of his neck, dragging upwards towards his chin, the blood beginning to waft into the water around him. The manic laughter emitted from the creature practically curdled his blood, and his vision was suddenly overtaken by a set of teeth so sharp they resembled daggers. The creature’s jaws snapped so tightly around the junction of his nec— Wooyoung’s frame shot up suddenly. His chest heaved with rapid, heavy breaths, heart practically convulsing in his ribcage. Swallowing thickly, his wide, paranoid eyes scanned his environment, shoulders relaxing subtly as he took in the sight of the messy living space he shared with you. Beams of sunlight flickered through the curtains, birds chirping happily in the early hours of the morning. He heard your faint breathing from the bottom bunk, and he fluttered his eyes shut in relief. Throwing himself back, he gazed up at the chipped, stained ceiling, face and arms glistening with a sheen of sweat. The constant nightmares still will not hinder his decision to meet with the siren. He wanted answers. He needed answers. A month passed since the incident and Prince Hongjoong’s coronation, and you grew increasingly worried about Wooyoung. He appeared to be in his own world when hauling the nets of fish every morning, his eyes trained onto the ocean the entire time. The cries of seagulls could be heard as they dipped and soared overhead near the docked fishing trawlers. Your brows knitted in confusion as his gaze never left the vast expanse of the gentle waters, despite the most clouding the air. Just what was he searching for? You’ll study him a bit more before confronting him- that sounded like a good enough course of action Wooyoung also spent a ridiculous amount of time in the town’s library while he wasn’t training with San. While he loved reading with you and San when he was younger ( San and you took turns wither narrating or animatedly sign the words for him for a better experience in storytelling), he never really went out of his way to read on his own accord. He had shook his head when you asked if anything was bothering him. Even San couldn’t get him to reveal the cause of his sudden curiosity of the mythical sea creatures. You decided not to pry too much, instead focusing on completing more tasks to get an extra heap of silver coins before San’s birthday, silently promising yourself to buy him that golden cutlass sword he set his eyes on months ago. When Wooyoung wasn’t in either the library, or training, he sauntered off without informing anyone. You were worried at the sudden change of behavior, but after speaking with San, you came to realization that Wooyoung was an adult now, and he didn’t need supervision or protection like he once did as a child. You still couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling out of the pit of your stomach. ‘Is everything okay with you?’ you asked one day, book in your lap forgotten as you stared at him from your seat on the lower bunk bed. The smell of salt and sea lingered in your small space from the opened window in the back. He lifted his umber hues for the briefest second to watch you repeat the gestures before nodding with a half-hearted smile, turning back to his book on the small table in the corner of your one-room living quarters. Miffed at his lack of honesty, you crawled out of the space, book tossed aside as you roughly dragged the chair back to plop across from him, eyes searching his face for answers,’Where have you been going off to?’ Quirking a brow at your pushy and intrusive choice of words, he held himself back from rolling his eyes,’It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.’ He returned his gaze back to the book, lavender locks falling into his eyes. You swiftly snatched the book away from him, eyes scanning the page quickly before he practically jumps onto you, face contorted into disbelief and anger, his expression clearly asking you if you had lost your mind,’Why are you suddenly so interested in sirens? Why do you disappear for hours on end almost every single day?’ ‘I told you it’s nothing important. Go to sleep,’ anger was clearly evident on his features and his demeanor. He plopped down back into his seat, book concealing half of his face as his eyes flickered to you in frustration. ‘You’re trying to find that siren, aren’t you?’ He stilled, mind reeling at the accusation, before he snapped the heavy book shut with a loud slam, ignoring your existence completely as he made his way over to the ladder to reach his top bunk. You grabbed him by the back of the shirt, turning him around to point a finger in his face, relying on him to read your lips, the anger in your system seemingly unbearable, “Am I right!?” ‘Stop treating me like I’m your son. Goodnight, (y/n).’ He left no room for arguments, eyes void of any warmth at your nosy questions. You watched him crawl into his covers, his back facing you. Scoffing to yourself, you reached down to snuff the oil lamps, the sudden darkness of the room concealing the hurt expression that painted your features. Wooyoung didn’t bother exchanging words with you the next day during your fish deliveries. You glowered at his retreating figure as he just waved a goodbye. You thought it was best to ignore the brat, and instead focus on the errands left on your plate. The tasks you completed were mostly deliveries of goods, and cleaning the docks and beaches of the litter and waste the townspeople left behind. You grimaced as you picked up what appeared to be the remnants of a torn loincloth and a shattered bottle of rum, throwing it in the plastic bag you carried in your gloved hands. Turning swiftly back to the pile you created up the slope of the rocky area of the beach, a flash of purple froze you in your tracks. You blinked, but nothing was there. Furrowing your brows, you decided to investigate, just to make sure the sun hadn’t baked your brain and burned your eyes. Placing the parchment bag down to steady it against a sturdy rock, you padded your way towards the sea cave that the villagers always warned kids not to venture off into. The water reached your ankles as you hesitantly stepped into the quiet cave, beams of sunlight guiding you through the tunnel of rocks. You grimaced at the feeling of algae and barnacle on the wall, feet stepping cautiously onto the wet boulders. You turned a corner, eyes immediately catching sight of the opening on the top of the cave, which filtered strong beams of rays into the shallow, turquoise and blue waters of the cave. Not quite paying close attention to your footing, your ankle caught onto a chunk of seaweed, toes stubbing against a jagged stone. You yelped loudly, your voice echoing in the cave as you crashed into the waist deep water. Before the thought of getting up even crossed your mind, your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar siren, who bristled in front of you, the long, protruding rays on his frame flaring out in anger, claws and jagged teeth ready to rip you apart if it wasn’t the blur of purple that hovered above you with arms spread out in defense. A whistling hiss emitted from the creature as he peered at you from over Wooyoung’s shoulders, face contorted into a glare, “Wooyoung!? You—...” the pain from your fall was now buried underneath the rising anger that bubbled from within you. Pointing an accusing finger at the creature, you glared back, “You! I knew it! You seduced him! You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?!” “How disgusting that you think I’ll reduce myself to seduce a human being of all things. I would much rather kiss a squid. I want nothing to do with you filthy pests.” You smacked Wooyoung’s calf in confusion, angrily signing at the sight of his embarrassed expression,’What are you doing here with a siren!?’ ‘Why were you following me?’ ‘I wasn’t! I was running an errand when I saw you come here! He seduced you. He sang for you, and you-‘ your hands just could not keep up with your racing thoughts. You opted to spit out your words, mostly for the siren to hear,“I’ll slice him like a trout and sell his flesh in the market- now move, Wooyoung,” you proceeded to step around the taller male, your bare hands clawing at the air as he tugged you back by the waist, the siren staring at you with a dull expression. “Crazy human,” he simpered at the sight of your frustration, “Your boyfriend can’t even hear me sing.” You kicked at the water at the smug expression of the siren, Wooyoung’s jaw dropping in disbelief, @He’s not my boyfriend, you putrid fish! If I find out you’ve hurt him in any way-” With a wave of his tail, you found yourself drenched from the head down. — Crossing your arms in anger, you leaned against the mossy wall of the cave, glaring holes into the siren’s head, as Wooyoung finished explaining everything, demeanor nervous and all as you rung your shirt for the third time to rid your attire of the seawater. Seagulls cawed around the roof of the cave, and small creatures climbed in between the cracks and crevices of the rocks surrounding you. Yeosang was leaning forward, arms crossed against a rock, chin tucked up onto his arms as his tail swished languidly in the water behind him. “Is it true that Wooyoung can speak to you telepathically?” you peered over the boy’s shoulder, quirking a brow at the bored siren, who was busy toying with a cluster of barnacle. He nodded, rolling his eyes as you asked for an explanation as to why that was possible. “Don’t know. Your lovely human friend here has been reading about it all month, and I can’t come up with anything rational either,” he threw himself back, eyes squinting as beams of sunlight flashed onto his face, “He’s been meeting me here to ask questions and learn about our kind. Curious little guy, but naive. It’s great that the runt has you following after him like a little sandpiper, or else I probably would have killed him that night.” He burst into a fit of mock laughter at your panicked expression, leaning back against a rock and crossing his arms over his chest, green, transparent gills dripping with seawater, “Kidding. I’ve never met a deaf human and a ..” he eyed you up and down, tongue gliding against his sharp teeth as he thought of a way to describe you, “Earth roach.” Wooyoung shot you a look as you attempted to grab a seashell to thwart it at the siren, “Why should we even trust you? You’ve killed too many humans. One of you attacked me too!” “You don’t have to trust me,” his tail fins swayed gently in the water as he threw a smirk your way,”Ah, so you’re that human that managed to escape from Seonghwa years ago? You left some ugly damage to his gills that day, y’know. Couldn’t sing for a week. He’ll be happy to know I found you.” “It’s against the law to interact with sirens anyway. I don’t want to see that bastard.” “Well, I guess I should call the King on you two for breaking the law? Or better yet, maybe I’ll tear you apart to see how you look from the inside. Red is my favorite color for a reason.” You rolled your eyes, tugging at Wooyoung’s elbow to get his attention. You urged him to go home with you and leave the siren be, but he wouldn’t budge, sitting down onto one of the dry rocks, hands grabbing at the forgotten book. You argued back and forth, exchanging glares of protest as he told you he’ll be fine. “He is a siren,” you cried, hands grasping his shoulders, face leaning in, “He will kill you!” ‘He would have killed me weeks ago, if he really wanted to,’ he defended, mirroring your own fierce glare. Twenty minutes ticked by, and you eventually gave up attempting to persuade him. Wooyoung was as stubborn as a rock. You decided it was best to just trust him, even if you did think he was insane for interacting with a siren like it was a friend. Like it was human. Like it had compassion and empathy. It was nothing but a blood-thirsty killer. His explanation just had no merit to it whatsoever. A month passed and Wooyoung wasn’t killed, so you assumed all was well. The last thing you expected was to see Wooyoung walk back into your complex, one late night, with disheveled hair and purple marking on his neck. The straw broom in your hands fell onto the floor with a loud clang, as you attempted to near him in suspicion. His hands hastily shot up to conceal the love-bites with the collar of his blouse, but your hands were quick to push them away. You glared into his eyes disapprovingly as his face flushed in embarrassment, “Please tell me it wasn’t him.” Anger suddenly washed his features as he read your lips. He pried your arms off, angrily shoving past you to reach the closet for a change of clothes. You rushed to stand in front him, arms crossed and features cold,’You can’t expect me to be okay with this. He’s a siren. You can’t love a siren. Don’t go see him again, please. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.’ ‘I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself,’ his gaze was cold. ‘I didn’t say you were, but I’m scared. What if he hurts you?’ ‘It’s because I’m deaf, isn’t it? You think the world is out to get me, and I’m not capable of handling anything by myself?’ You vehemently disagreed with his thoughts, but he left no more room for argument as he slammed the door to the bathroom shut, rattling the figurines on top of the wooden dresser you shared. The sound of the shower head was audible through the door as you furiously swept the remaining dust bunnies. This went on for about two more months The past two months have also been increasingly difficult for San and his mother at home. Your other friend grew somewhat distant and cold when you came to visit him at home. You didn’t need any explanation about his behavior. Mrs. Choi’s attempts at concealing the blooming blue and purple marks proved fruitless as she reached up to dust bookshelves, her shirt giving way to showcase the marks marring her skin. Her eyes seemed to always shine with a thin layer of tears, and her smile was forced half of the time.

San was aggressive whilst practicing and honing his swordsmanship skills, muscles burning in protest as he slashed at slabs of wood repeatedly, his cheeks rosy underneath the evening sun. Not even your arms tugging him away from the practice field sufficed in calming his raging nerves down, shouting at you to leave if you didn’t want to watch. There was a need to continuously grow stronger- you clearly saw it past his anger and frustration. He wanted, needed, to feel as if he had power over something. With a heavy heart, you nodded in acceptance, sitting off to the side to watch him burn himself out physically. He also partook in extra duels, so many that a limit had to be placed on how much he could take part in. During times like these, you realized being raised as an orphan was nothing compared to living with an abusive father. You only wished to stop feeling so helpless, wishing you could help carry the pain and exhaustion weighing San’s shoulders down.

One day, while the three of you sat together in a nearby cafe, he picked at his baked tart, eyes then darting from you quietly sipping your tea to Wooyoung who stuffed his mouth with a freshly baked croissant. The purple haired male wore a scarf around his neck, the sight of it only angering you slightly. San’s lips parted in hesitation, words dying in his throat as you glanced up at him curiously,”You okay?”

Wooyoung peered over at the ebony haired male, cheeks round with warm pastry and jam, his eyes blinking in confusion,‘Sorry, did you want a piece of my croissant?’

San snorted at the guilt ridden expression on the lavender haired male’s visage, an amused smile raking his features as he shook his head,’No. That’s fine,’ his hands hovered above his drink, lips pressed into a thin line, before he continued,’I realized I never thanked you two.’

‘Thanked us for what?’ 

‘I didn’t grow up having anyone to look up to. I only grew up knowing what I don’t want to be like. None of the children at school understood me, either. They often mocked my mother and I when they visited the library, sometimes smudging ink on their hands to resemble the bruises on her arms. They were evil, and for the longest time, I thought the entire world was as cold as they were. You two changed my entire perceptive of people, though. So, thank you. It’s years too late, but-,’ San’s bashful expression suddenly fell at the sight of the two pairs of glassy eyes,”Ah! What? Don’t even think about crying!”

—

Weeks later, and San had returned to somewhat of a healthier, emotional state of mind, spending most of his time either at the library with his mother, or training and dueling. Late nights walking on the beach also aided his frazzled nerves.

Wooyoung spent most of him time with Yeosang at the cave, and San had questioned you regarding his behavior one day when he paid you a visit, hands heavy with the dinner he helped his mother prepare. You gaped at him, chopsticks in mid-air as you gave him an incredulous look, “What? No, I didn’t reject him- I don’t even like him like that— oh heavens this is Wooyoung we’re talking about, San. He’s like a brother to me. You know that. He’s just..” What sounded reasonable enough for Wooyoung to spend more time away from the only people he considered family? What were you going to say? Picking up on San’s lingering suspicion, you placed your utensil down, sighing and ringing your fingers together as you gazed at him in contemplation, “I..” the words you wanted stuck in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you suddenly found interest in the noodles and fish on your plate, “You know I have feelings for you, and only you. No one will ever change that, San.”

You were aware of how heated his face had become at the confession, brown hues lifting to study your features warily, “Do you really mean that? Am I good enough for you?”

You push past the need to shoot him an incredulous look, instead opting to reach over to clasp his hands in your own, fingers coiling with his,”Of course, I mean it. You’ll always own my heart. It’s always been that way.”

“But I need you to tell me that I’m good enough for you,” he pushed his plate away, appetite gone as he stared stoically at you, his voice so small it sounded like a whisper,“Do you think I’m capable of protecting you? Or.. or even loving you? Am I?”

“You are. You’re more than enough for me,” you stood up to hug his head against your chest, his eyes locked on yours, stunned and almost teary-eyed, “You’ll always be enough.”

One moment you were busy eating dinner, and the next the two of you found yourselves entangled in each other’s embrace, exchanging feverish kisses and desperate, long-awaited touches that once only existed existed in your dreams, too insecure to turn them into reality. You kissed every mark and scar left from the hands of his father, murmuring gentle praises against his marred skin, his muscles rippling underneath your touch. His lips wouldn’t leave your form, biting and sucking at every expanse of flesh he could reach as he rocked into you, hands gripping your hips and waist almost possessively. 

He fell against your bare form in a heap, your conjoined bodies sticky and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His face was buried into the crook of your neck as he suckled onto a patch of your bruised skin, hot breath fanning against your already heated flesh as he whispered sweet, muffled promises against the shell of your ear. You felt his release slowly dribble from where your bodies met, your frame squirming at the sensation as you unwrapped your legs from around his waist, spreading them apart to allow him room to settle against your panting figure.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was into Wooyoung,” you groaned in embarrassment as he littered your chest with tiny love marks, teeth scraping against your skin in the most pleasurable way. He chuckled against your supple flesh, and it’s then you realized you haven’t seen a smile reach his eyes quite like this in all the years you’ve known him.

The next morning, he expected to find a flustered Wooyoung at the sight of San sleeping in his home, but his sheets were still pristine and untouched, just as they were the night before. He questioned you about Wooyoung while you two shared a light breakfast together, beams of sunlight doing wonders to his chiseled visage and bed hair.

“Okay, I guess I’ve been keeping this away from you for too long, and Wooyoung didn’t want me mentioning it—” An inferno set ablaze in San’s eyes, and you internally scolded yourself for the lack of appropriate words. You hastily whispered before he had the opportunity to open his mouth, “He made friends with a siren, and-”

“With a siren!?” His spoon clattered in the bowl of porridge, splashing the table and the mug of tea. Your eyes widened and you slapped a finger to your lips, telling him to lower his voice, “What do you mean be quiet!? He’s with a siren, and you’re okay with that!?”

His hard gaze was trained on you, and an involuntary shiver ran down your spine. You parted your lips to explain, when suddenly, he pushed back his seat, chair scraping the floor as he made his way over to Wooyoung’s closet, throwing on the leather baldric he found and sheathing Wooyoung’s sword, before tugging his boots only to spare you a brief glance. You trailed after San, hands tugging desperately at his arms, but he refused to turn around and listen, “Listen, I’ve tried telling him, but he wouldn’t have it! Trust me, this is going to do more harm than good- He can hear the siren! They communicate telepathically and- and.. there’s no explanation to it but please- I’ve tried persuading him, but he’s too stubborn for his own good.”

“You..,” San paused in his tracks, turning around to give you a hard stare, eyes clouded with conflict. His lips parted, before they pressed into a thin line, shoulders tense with anger, “If you think I’m going to sit back and hope one of my best friends won’t die in the hands of a monster, then you must’ve lost your mind.”

The words stung, but you knew that was his irrational side taking over. A part of you knew you couldn’t blame him for rash behavior he’s grown from being around someone as horrid as his father, “You’re going to show me where he is, before I take this to the King and have that beast slaughtered.”

You were in for a lot of shit, and you didn’t know who to be afraid of most. San, for keeping this information away from him? Wooyoung, who made you promise you wouldn’t speak of this? Yeosang, who wasn’t that quite fond of you? Or King Hongjoong, who followed in the footsteps of his father, abiding by all the laws the older has set for the people.

When San stumbled into the cave, gently prying you off, his eyes burning with rage as he searched for a familiar head of purple, “Wooyoung!”

Flashes of confusion, betrayal, and anger sparked within Wooyoung’s eyes as he noticed the two of you, his eyes sending you a silent question as you noticed the glimmer of Yeosang’s tail underneath the dark waters.

‘You have gone crazy, haven’t you?’

Wooyoung chose to ignore him, pushing past his shoulder with the books he borrowed from the library tucked underneath his arm. If he recognized the baldric fastened on San’s torso, he made no implication of it. A furious hand clamped onto his shoulder, swiveling him back to face the the seething swordsman. San threateningly leaned into Wooyoung’s face, eyes raging with an inferno of anger and hostility. The purple haired male hesitantly bought a hand up to tug at the collar of his tunic, but San’s eyes already took note of the purple marks on the column of the boy’s flesh, “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t tell me he was intimate with it too!?”

“San,” you called out in annoyance, “Stop. He’s safe, you see? I told you Yeosang means no ha—”

A sudden flash of silver made you reel back in shock, your eyes widening at the sight of San brandishing his sharpened sword, the tip barely grazing the siren’s nose as the two froze to stare each other down. Wooyoung dropped the book he carried in surprise arms flying out to tug San’s weapon back, his own orbs furiously staring his friend down.

“Yeosang, leave!” You shouted amongst the commotion of your two friends, stepping around them to lightly push at Yeosang’s shoulders deeper into the water, “You’ll get killed! Leave!”

“Don’t underestimate me, little human. You’re going to regret the day you were born.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of his parted lips, swiftly rushing back to the other two, but you couldn’t call San in time to warn him, “Cover your-”

The sword clattered against the small boulders beneath San’s feet, eyes unfocused as the melodic sound of the siren’s call echoed within the walls of the cave, filling his ears. Wooyoung stared at his best friend’s face in shock, eyes flickering down to the sword, before he gazed at Yeosang in realization. He hesitantly watched San turn around in Yeosang’s direction, before he quickly wrapped a hand around the ebony haired male’s waist, tugging him back harshly,’Yeosang! Stop! I won’t let you kill him!’

Yeosang paid no mind to his friend’s protests, amused eyes flickering from both San and yourself, who struggled on maintaining your ears clamped with your hands. He raised his voice, lips quirking as your hands fell limp against your sides, eyes locked on the vast space in front of you. His hands itched at the thought of ripping the two of you apart from the inside out.

‘Yeosang! Stop!’

Yeosang’s voice was clearer than bells, and so devastatingly, hauntingly beautiful in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to listen to it for years to come. Wooyoung’s panic stricken eyes flew over to your form as you trudged through the waist deep water, eyes unfocused and lips parted. He struggled to maintain a firm grip on San’s figure, who continuously clawed at the arms securing him in place.

Throwing San back against the mossy wall of the cave, Wooyoung madly dashed to tackle Yeosang down into the water, immediately ceasing his singing. The siren hissed in retaliation, nails dragging down the flesh of the hands clamped onto his mouth. He furiously swung his tail against Wooyoung’s ankles, pulling him down into the water. Snapping out of your trance, you were quick on your feet to help San up, hastily gripping the heavy sword away from his grasp. When he demanded you to hand it to him, Wooyoung shoved the both of you in the direction of cave’s entrance, furiously signing to leave immediately.

‘I’ll be fine! Just leave!’

A clawed hand reached out to slash at San, and out of instinct, you shoved yourself in between him and the siren, claws latching onto your ankle. Your immediate response was to pull away, flesh tearing underneath the sharp nails, a hiss leaving your lips as the salt in the ocean doing nothing to ease the pain of your opened wounds.

Wooyoung wrestled the siren down, hands clamped around his mouth, while he shot you two a look over his shoulder, eyes wild and void of any patience. San scoffed, hand wrapping around your waist to hoist you up on your good leg, eyes narrowed furiously,”You should have never stopped me from killing it–” “Shut up, San. If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t have been in—”

You emitted a groan of pain as your wounded leg brushed against the protruding edge of a rocky sides of the cave, hissing underneath your breath as you gripped San’s forearm to ease your mind off the burning sensation. Finally stumbling down onto the pebbled floor of the shore, you paused as San pulled away from you, “You go get help, and I’ll go back and-”

“You are not going back there! He will kill you, San. Get that through your thick head.”

“He nearly killed you, (y/n)! We left Wooyoung with that monster!”

“He’ll be okay, I promise. Wooyoung will be fine,” you groaned at the sight of red running down your ankle and soaking the sand underneath your foot,”Please, just fucking listen to me for once!” He stilled at your raised voice, and your eyes widened suddenly at the change of his demeanor. You quickly grasped his elbows, attempting to look him in the eye, “Oh, San- no. No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling- I forgot-”

“We should get your leg checked out,” he quipped firmly, avoiding your gaze as he proceeded to push you in the general direction of town, his shoulders and jaw tense with unresolved tension and anger.

— It was midnight, and Wooyoung still hadn’t returned home. Your one room living space felt too vacant without him sleeping on the top bunk bed you shared. Your ankle throbbed beneath the thick bandages, the smell of herbal ointment prominent even underneath the heavy layers of cloth.

You tossed and turned in your sheets for what felt like hours. The exhaustion and worry that clouded your mind prevented you from falling asleep. You quickly sat up, reached to light your oil lamp, before making your way out of your home to wander restlessly in the desolate streets, hoping to find the purple haired male.

You paused once you stepped around the corner of San’s neighborhood. Broken and discarded glass decorated the floor near his feet where he sat against the entryway of his home. The door hung by its hinges, splintered and shattered in some areas. You nearly dropped your lamp as you rushed towards the disheveled male, whose half-buttoned up, bloodied shirt, revealed glimpses of jagged scars left from his duels. Your eyes studied his visage, brows knitting in concern at the familiar, ghostly frown. His eyes spared you the briefest of looks before he dropped his gaze down to his bloody hands. Dried tear streaks and specks of red decorated his ghostly visage. The faint barking of a dog was heard streets away.

“It’s not mine. None of it is mine,” he mumbled, noticing your stunned gaze at the sight of red.

“They fought again?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded silently, arms limp at his sides, “.. and she ran away again?” Another nod, and suddenly he found himself engulfed in your hold, tears streaming down his face as he held you close, face buried against the crown of your head. His resolve shatter quicker than any glass.

“I- .. I was angry, (y/n). I fought with him,” His voice was small and wavering, jumbled thoughts spilling rapidly from his lips,”the medics took him. He called me a bloodthirsty killer– but I’m..was it was defense? That’s not considered killing, right?” His breathing quickened, chest heaving as he struggled to steady his air flow, voice rising an octave as panic laced his tone,” “I’m not a killer, am I (y/n)? I am nothing like him,” his fingers tugged at his untamed hair in frustration, pupils quivering rapidly as he attempted to calm his racing and frantic heart, “I will never be anything like him. I need you to tell me that. Tell me I’m nothing like him!”

You pulled him inside and onto the couch, stepping over the fallen furniture, splintered wood, broken flower vases, and torn, embroidered, floral tapestries that littered the floor. Your eyes caught sight of a fallen, bloodied sword you recognized from San’s practices. Cold dinner filled plates lay broken near the flipped table. You held onto your broken friend throughout the night, consoling him repeatedly and wiping away his tears. You pressed numerous kisses onto his face, your hand running through his locks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, years of agony apparent in his loud, torturous cries muffled against your skin. The sounds made your skin crawl in the most unpleasant way. You paused only when you noted the change in pattern of his breathing, indicating his deep slumber. Your eyes glanced at the full moon out the window, only praying that both Wooyoung and Mrs. Choi were alright.

—

Wooyoung was curled onto one of the higher rocks of the cave, fast asleep. He refused to return back home, not yet ready or willing to face his friends. Droplets of seawater pelting his face startled him awake, and he sat up in confusion at the sudden sensation. This definitely do not look like the ceiling of his home. His eyes snap down to search for Yeosang, the memories from hours ago vividly etching themselves back into his mind.

His eyes locked on someone else’s- a woman’s- and his eyes could only stare back in shock at the sight of San’s mother of all people in the cave, struggling to pry a raging Yeosang off of her.

‘Yeosang! Stop! Don’t kill her! I know her-’

‘You say that about every rat of a human, don't you?’

Only when Yeosang turned to snap the intruder’s neck in half, he paused at the gleam of her necklace. His gills contracted as he gazed at the intricately carved pendant resting on the older woman’s clavicles, “Where did you get that, filthy human?” he hissed, fins and rays flaring out ferociously, his long and sharp teeth snapping at the rage in his tone,”That necklace is for my people. My clan.”

“A friend gave it to me,” the lady explained, hand protectively clutching the pendant and out of Yeosang’s sight. He glowered menacingly at her, eyes still holding numerous silent questions. His eyes glanced down at her blue and purple marred neck and décolletage, “You.. you resemble him so much. My friend. This used to be our hang out spot years ago. His name was Yeohan. Did you know him?”

Yeosang jerked back suddenly, and from Wooyoung’s spot and the darkness engulfing the cave, he could hardly make out the movements of their lips. He scrambled to climb down the rocks, making his way over, legs frantically splashing in the water.

‘Yeosang? What’s wrong?’

“How do you know my father!? He died-”

“Twenty years ago,” Mrs. Choi finished for him, his eyes growing wide with shock at the woman’s affirmation,”The king killed him for the coming-of-age ritual. He wears his coat to this day. The moment I saw you, I knew you had to have been his offspring. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“You think I don’t know the evil things you’ve done to my people?” The siren spat, “I don’t need you telling me what crimes your kind has committed-”

“I will get it back for you. His coat. I’ll return it to you here by dawn.” Silence enveloped the two as the sea creature stared with a gaping mouth at the human.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What purpose would that serve you? Certainly, not out of kindness?”

She only offered him a sad smile. — You adjusted your trousers one last time, before leaning down to brush the hair out of San’s face. He stirred awake from your touch, eyes tired and puffy, “Is it morning?”

You glanced at the dark window, shrugging slightly before turning back to him, “Sort of. I need to deliver the fish to the merchants. I think.. I think you should stay here until I’m back. We can go check on your mom together? Do you want the keys to my place? Go rest there while I’m away.”

He nodded with a soft sigh, hand cupping the one you placed onto his palm,”I’ll stay here to clean up. Don’t take too long, please.”

“I won’t. Just please rest for me, okay? Maybe Wooyoung will come back to visit you here.”

You pressed a firm kiss against his lips, one he gladly reciprocated even in his sleepy state, “Love you.”

You were the first to discover Mrs. Choi’s body. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for the sight of a corpse, limp and pale and stuck between a cluster of jagged rocks underneath a cliff. The net of fish you hauled onto your back dropped with a loud thud onto the deck of the docked fishing ship, the sailors and other fisherman yelling at you in shock. It was only when you pointed out the body swaying against the rocks with every wave that they abandoned their work to call a nearby officer. 

Dread, heavy and ugly, filled you to the core, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the shouting in the background. Panic worked its way out of every pore on your body, your eyes locked on the floating, dark haired woman,  olive green dress swaying gently in the calm waters of the early morning.

It couldn’t be her.

She wasn’t the only woman in town with such a dress. A glimmer of hope twinkled somewhere inside of you.

Not her. Anyone but her. Upon closer inspection as the officers hauled up the body, you nearly collapsed on sight. A shudder claimed your body in realization, your blood running cold at the sight of her frozen, gaping, her lips a dark hue of blue, forehead marred and slightly dented from where she most likely impacted the rocks. You could only stare silently as the medics hauled the body up on a stretcher, placing it in the back of a large wagon, the sound of hooves hitting the rocky pavement indicating its departure.

Just how on earth are you planning on letting San know?

—

Hours later, after arguing continuously with the medics, protesting how you needed to see the body, they ultimately refused, even calling out to guards to lock you out of the medical wing of the building. The town of Aurora was coiled in chaos at the announcement of the corpse found near the docks. The councilmen furiously argued amongst each other as the crowd grew bigger in the town’s square, right beneath the large clock tower. Curious people joined along in confusion at the sudden, early commotion, some propping their windows open to tend to their clothe lines and watch with bewildered eyes.

You stood amongst the crowd, fists clenching repeatedly whilst maintaining your flaring emotions. You pondered whether or not you should stick around or go and inform San, when one of the royal family’s servants ordered the towns councilmen to the town hall for an immediate meeting with the current and former king. You turned to race towards the aforementioned building, only for a hand to grip you in place. Turning, your heart leaped in your throat at the solemn looking San. He made no move forward, and all you could do was silently gape, unsure of how you were going to break the news to him, “Couldn’t sleep. I know. The neighbors told me when I went back to check the library,” he calmly explained over the hordes of bodies shoving and pushing past the two of you. Amongst the rush of civilians, you embraced him with trembling arms, your brows knitting in anger as you buried your face into his brown tunic.

You grasped his hand in hopes of comforting him while the two of you waited amongst the crowd in the town hall for the appearance of the King and his father. He held you close, chin resting against the crown of your head. You can tell he was in shock, his grief yet to be surfaced as he held you silently. His eyes were heavy with years of turmoil and anguish, all underneath the hands of one, grimy man. Knowing him, deep down, he most likely will never find it in him to forgive himself for not chasing after his broken mother last night. It will haunt him for years to come.

King Hongjoong appeared, seated in the middle of the large bench, his father to his right. Other noblemen also sat beside the two rulers. A medical examiner spoke rapidly in hushed whispers to the white haired male, whilst pointing to several parchments of paper. The King’s brows knitted the more the examiner spoke, and he nodded solemnly, a hand reaching up to dismiss the two medical staff. A gloved hand pinched the bridge of his nose, his charcoal hues flickering to the side to glance at his father, whose stoic expression did not twitch in the slightest at the barren news. 

The Commander of the Royal Guards barked at the restless crowd of people gathered into the large room to have respect for the King, and the silence that followed suit was deafening. King Hongjoong cleared his throat, his hair pristine as usual, although there seemed to be a weight of burden and stress taking a toll on his young features. His eyes were lifeless and dark, a stark contrast to when he was much younger. 

“It’s come to our attention that the body of Mrs. Choi has been found near the harbor. Upon investigation, medical examiners have concluded that cause of death was suicide,” Hongjoong spoke clearly, voice booming in the walls of the building.

You felt San’s grip on your hand tighten, his brows furrowed as he attempted to contain his composure. You saw guilt flash within his orbs, so raw and visible it made you look away, at anything besides his face. It didn’t sound right hearing the words come out from the king’s lips. You knew Mrs. Choi as well as you knew San. There’s no way she would have willingly dove to her death. “Isn’t Mr. Choi also in the hospital for multiple stab wounds?” A voice piped from the crowd. Hongjoong frowned at the sudden interruption, his hands reaching up to adjust his cloak, when another voice spoke up.

“Where is their son? I heard from neighbors that he was the one who stabbed his father,” a middle aged man mused loudly to the crowd.

“Is that why Mrs. Choi killed herself?” a lady joined in now,”Or was her son behind her fall too?”

“What if a siren killed her?”

“Nonsense, we haven’t seen one in the past four years.”

“Then who do you think has been cutting all of our fishing nets and destroying our sails?,” a familiar voice rang out through the hall. The tall male stepped closer to the Commander, before turning to the crowd, and you watched with horror in your eyes at the next few words to slip out of the Minjae’s mouth, “I’ve been telling my dad about the purple-haired boy who’s been meeting with sirens in the cave east of town. I saw the siren with my own eyes. I told you Wooyoung was up to no good. He’s probably selling all of our people’s information to those beasts.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted to speak, anger clearly painting his features, before his father stood up suddenly, gaze hard and unwavering at the Commander. It was then you noticed the lack of cloak on his frame,”Interacting with those beasts is a criminal offense punishable by death. Find me that boy. I want him publicly executed in the town’s square. As for the librarian’s son, find him as well. Lock him in the chambers until I decide what to do with him.”

Hongjoong gaped to the side at his father in disbelief, brows knitting in confusion, his kohl rimmed eyes wide. Mingi, who stood behind the white haired King glanced at the male, shoulders tense at growing chaos infiltrating the room, “Let me make the decisions, Father. I am King, after all.”

San reached down to grip onto your hand, and when his hand curled into nothing but air, his eyes snapped down to find your figure gone. 

“You old bastard!” A sickening crunch, a wave of gasps of disbelief, and your shouting sent the townspeople into a mad frenzy.

—

Wooyoung watched the small fish swim by his feet, nibbling at his toes. He smiled tenderly, feet swishing and kicking at the animals playfully. Off to the side, Yeosang held onto his father’s cloak, so tightly and desperately as if it would disappear,’I told you that lady was nice.’

Yeosang reached up to rub at his wet eyes furiously, golden orbs flickering up to meet the umber colored ones of the male,’I take back my criticism. Maybe there are still some good humans out there. Repeat my words in front of Seonghwa, and I will personally claw out your eyeballs.’

‘If you do, how will I get to see your beautiful face?’ Wooyoung simpered, cheeks flushing slightly at the other’s thoughts. He nodded shyly, fingers reaching to grasp the siren’s hand, thumb caressing the iridescent skin,’Just like how there are sirens with good hearts as well,’ the intimate moment was soon interrupted by a frantic sound of splashing, and Yeosang’s face fell immediately upon the sight of a panic stricken San. Immediately reading the emotions haunting San’s features, Wooyoung stood up, face contorting in confusion as San scrambled to explain the gravity of the situation they were in, both verbally to Yeosang and with hand signs for Wooyoung.

‘They’re going to execute (y/n). Death by drowning.’

Wooyoung swore his heart skipped a beat or two, his eyes wide and hands limp by his sides. Yeosang quietly watched from behind him.

‘(Y/n) attacked the King’s father. They’re planning on executing you too for meeting with Yeosang. And they think I was the one who killed my mother, and they’re hunting for me, too.’

Wooyoung reeled back, the bombardment of shocking news too much for him to handle all at once, but San continued, occasionally fumbling with his hands from the sheer amount of stress surging through his system,’Wooyoung, we need to leave. Now. I’m going to bail (y/n) out, and you’ll wait for us at the west part of town. There’s a boat there. We have no time to waste,” he hastily reached forward to pull his friend up, tugging him forcibly over clusters of ocean rocks.

“In exchange, will you promise me to protect my son?”

It took Yeosang a minute or two to process the woman’s words, before he finally nodded in response, a frown settling on his features, “Only if you keep your end of the promise.” “No. You will join him on the boat and escape. Death by enforced drowning you said?”

—

You glared icily through the dark bars separating your form from the snow haired king. He ushered the guard to give the two of you privacy, and a minute of footsteps later, and the two of you were left alone in the dark chambers of the royal palace, mossy wall cold against your battered back, “What do you want?” you spat rudely, the taste of iron prominent against your busted lips, your bloodied teeth bared as you glowered at him, “If you’re here to give me shut about how I shouldn’t have attacked your swine of a—”

“They’re preparing the ship as we speak,” he cut you off, a hint of amusement dancing in his orbs joined by the flickering fire of the wall mounted sconce illuminating his features. He casted your cuffed hands a glance, before gazing at your bleeding ankle, “So, I came as fast as I could. The guards have already left to hunt down your two friends.”

Dread bled into your form, and your blood ran cold at the sudden gravity of his words. You were going to die. God, you were going to die before properly apologizing to Wooyoung, before holding San one last time, before- “I have a few words to share with you- I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you this soon, so,” you watched him remove the golden coat around his frame, rolling it tightly before placing it down into the cell, “Incase either one of us doesn’t make it.. you know what this is, right?”

“A siren’s coat? Of course, I do. What’s your point?”

A twinge of a smile graced his features at your sharp tone, before his face fell into a solemn expression,”It’s tradition that an heir becomes of age when he or she slays a siren and wears it’s coat as a sign of dignity, bravery, and honor. It’s been the case for many generations before me. My father earned his when he was twenty-three. My mother came from another royal family from Port Hala. They do not hold similar traditions as us, and instead do not meddle or interfere with sirens. When it came for me to sail alone and kill one, at a much younger age than my father was, my mother insisted that our family breaks the tradition. My father, as you can guess, disagreed and left no room for her arguments. She threatened to take me and make a run for it if they forced me into it, and later that night, they found her body not too far from shore. My father informed the public that it was the sirens’ doing, but no one was permitted to see her body. Not even me.”

His eyes drifted to the patch of green on the wall behind you, shaking his head and continuing with a lowered voice, “So, I sailed to uninhabited islands, knowing that there were gentle sirens there, and not like the ones that lurked here amongst humans. I met one, a very young one. He was very adventurous and snuck from his kind to chase his pet octopus and.. he was harmless, unable to hear, thus never really learning how to sing any of the sirens’ songs. He was a very naive, little one. I persuaded him to come on land with me because we were friends, and I ran off with his coat, thinking it would be the last I’ll see him. I never had the courage or heart to kill him, and I never thought he’d wash up into our town, either.”

Whatever air you had left was knocked out straight from your lungs. You knew where this was going. You held his gaze with your widened orbs, bloodied jaw slack from shock.

“I intended to kill him that night he was found, but after the doctors discovered his head injury and lack of memories, other than his name among other things, I chose to spare his life. I was afraid my father and the rest of the town will find out. I was and always will be a coward, even as King of Aurora,” he mused, hands reaching up to adjust his white blouse, “I will be on board the boat taking you to your execution. My bodyguard, Mingi, will join us, along with my father’s right hand man, who was behind Mrs. Choi’s death. She was found stealing my father’s coat, but she managed to slip away before the guards had a chance to retrieve it. My father sent him to do whatever means necessary to punish her for her actions.

I know my father better than anyone else. Without a doubt, I know he was behind her death. (Y/n), please, whatever you do, do not attempt to fight him. Go with the plan. Mingi and I already discussed everything, and he will help you out once you’re dropped from the ship. I don’t plan on allowing my father to return back to town,” his eyes grew dark, the shadows of stress aging his appearance. Your eyes widened at his implications, “And I might not make it out alive. If I don’t, Mingi will give you my coat when he rescues you. I need you to apologize on my behalf if I am unable to. Mingi is a great sailor. His father taught him, so he knows his way around a ship. I want you two to escape to Port Hala as soon as you find Wooyoung, is that understood? Take Choi San with you. Mingi will take you to Yunho and Jongho, two friends of ours who will help you. This town will have your heads if you step foot back here.”

The rush of information was too much for your tired brain to comprehend so quickly. You meekly nodded, cuffed hands reaching to clasp the bars tightly, your eyes never leaving the golden coat he donned on, “Yes, King Hongjoong.” “Hongjoong. Just Hongjoong.”

—

You struggled to maintain the heavy weight of the reinforced cuffs around your wrists, body staggering forward from a boot to your back, your frame crashing into the railing of the large ship. You hissed upon impact, the marks on your ankle bleeding against the bandages. You were roughly tugged by the hair, the bruised face of the former king coming into view as his second in command held you by your disheveled locks, “Helmsman! A bit further and then you can drop the anchor!” The old man boomed, gray tresses tied tightly into a high bun, his charcoal hues burning holes into your head. 

You snuck a glance at Mingi, whose eyes never left your form. His hands gripped the steering wheel harshly, knuckles bone-white. A subtle nod of his head washed a bit of relief over your trembling frame. Hongjoong watched from beside his father, as the man shoved your face into metal railing of the ship, sharp ends of the wood slicing your cheek. A familiar glimmer in the water captured your attention, and your eyes met a pair of golden ones deep under the calm waves of the ocean. Your eyes widened, a gasp threatening to leave your lips.

The ship finally came to a halt, and a pair of shiny, leather boots invaded your vision. You glowered at the king from your position on the deck, cheekbones bruised and lip split. You spat onto his shoes, blood splattering on his ironed, white trousers. Charcoal hues void of any empathy stared down at you, before the former king’s hand reached down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt, his crown sparkling under the bright sun. You shared a look with a tense Hongjoong who remained back, his hands clenching into fists, before you were bought back to reality as the older man slammed your back against the railing, pushing you up, your frame dangerously tilting over the edge, “After my kingdom has sacrificed so much for you stupid orphans, this is how you return the favor?” he growled, the strands of his beard tickling your forehead as he gripped your jaw with his other hand, “You will wish I had just shot you when the sirens rip you apart limb by limb. Your screams of agony will sound like a beautiful melody to my ears.”

Your eyes locked with golden ones, and you couldn’t help but reflect back on the time you confronted him in the cave.

“Why do I kill you treacherous humans?” he laughed at your question, your eyes narrowing as a result. He grasped the moving whelk on the rock, clawed fingers crushing it as his gaze never left your own, “Easy. Your King took my father away from me.”

The gruff man released his hands from your collar to swivel you around, but you hastily threw your arms out to reach his head, your vision unclear with unkempt and bloody strands of your hair. The link on your cuffs latched onto the back of his neck, and you tugged him towards you roughly, hoping gravity will be of assistance. Your frames tipped down and your lips quirked up without you realizing it. The last thing you saw before you plummeted down to the blue waters was Mingi’s and Hongjoong’s shocked faces, the latter’s frame already rushing forward to try and reach you with an extended hand. The three of you were definitely expecting this outcome You dove head first into the ocean, the elderly man beside you only feet away. Your attempts to swim up to the surface proved futile as the weights of the cuffs around your ankles and wrists succumbed to gravity. A purple tail smacked your side, and you came face to face with a familiar visage, the air escaping your lungs in bubbles. Rough claws tugged on the metal chains and cuffs, and after a few attempts, the metal snapped under the pressure. 

“Wrap your arms around my neck. Don’t try anything funny, or this time I will kill you,” the purple-tailed siren growled, turning his head to glance at the other siren who seemed to enjoy circling around the man who seemed to panic at the sight of the being across from him. Golden eyes studied the old man struggling to swim up to the surface.

You desperately gasped for air once breaching the surface of the water, arms loosely wrapped around the back of the other’s neck. He paid you no mind as he carefully watched his friend’s head surface, golden eyes trained on the white haired man yelling up at the others on board to save him. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were void of any empathy as he casually crossed his arms on the railing, leaning forward and blinking in response to his father’s shouts. He spared you a second to gaze at your form, relief melting his stoic features slightly. Beside him, the second in command made an attempt to shoot at the blonde siren silently staring at the former leader, the barrel of his pistol gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Drop it,” the deep voice of the red-head was heard from behind Hongjoong, his own pistol resting against the against the man’s temple. Hongjoong didn’t bat an eyelash as Mingi overpowered the other, threatening to shoot if he didn’t comply.

“Are you crazy!? The beast is going to kill him, and all you’re doing is watching!? You’re a sorry excuse of a king- you! You have never had the power to walk in your father’s foots-” his cries were muffled against the cold, metallic barrel of Mingi’s pistol pressing against the back of his throat.

Yeosang’s gaze met Hongjoong’s, who spared him a glance before returning back to the gasping man, his hands clawing at the ship’s hull with desperate shouts.

“Don’t you recognize me, you bastard?”

The elder’s head turned to peer at the creature with fear-filled eyes, his legs beginning to tire after the long waking minutes of staying afloat.

“A disgusting beast that preys on human flesh,” the other growled, hands stabilizing his form against the ship. His intricately embroidered vest sparkled despite it being wet, dark orbs burning holes into the siren.

Seonghwa’s brows knitted as an undecipherable look washed over Yeosang’s features, his jaw tight, gills rapidly contracting. There was a raging storm within those golden hues Seonghwa hasn’t seen in a very, very long time. Yeosang’s lips twitched convulsively, a crazed look suddenly taking over his visage.

 A humorless, sarcastic laugh escaped his throat, shoulders shaking and brows knitting in confusion as he swam closer to the trembling man, “Take a good look at me! Tell me who I am!” he barked, the rays and fins on his neck flaring in the most menacing of ways, bared teeth gleaming like the ocean’s pearls.

The white haired man drew a breath, his lips parting as he glanced once more at the trembling siren, charcoal hues flashing with recognition suddenly, “You.. you’re the son? You’re his son.”

“The one you tried to kill!,” a howl of laughter left Yeosang’s mouth, as his head dipped back to gaze at a stunned Hongjoong, “Fate is quite hilarious, do you agree? Huh?” Clawed hands struck the ship’s hull, chipping the wood and creating furrows on the surface as Yeosang inched closer, “I was forced to watch my father protect me from you, only for you to kill him in front of my eyes. How brave of you to go after a four year old siren. And now, look at you, you poor, pathetic bastard,” his clawed hand reached forward to grab a fistful of white hair, roughly tugging the man’s head back to meet the gaze of his son, “Not even your son is willing to save you.”

“Shoot him this instant, you bastard! What are you doing staring at me like that!?”

Hongjoong remained as still as a statue, cold gaze unwavering. You swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch. There was a silent acknowledgement of understanding as Yeosang locked gazes with Hongjoong one last time.

“He’ll rather watch as I skin you alive. You don’t deserve the mercy of being under my song’s spell, no..” he shot his arm out, smashing the man’s face against the side of the ship, agonized howls of laughter switching to manic shouting whilst repeating the action, “No, I want you to feel everything. You’re going to feel every inch of your skin being peeled away. A coat for a coat, yes?”

A blob  of saliva flew and splattered against Yeosang’s face, dripping down to the blue waters. 

You jolted as the siren you held onto suddenly gyrated in the other direction, ripping your gaze from the scene as sounds of flesh squelching and tendons tearing came from behind. 

Seonghwa decided it will be best not to stick around to see the outcome, knowing fully well what Yeosang is capable of. He readjusted you onto his back, before commanding you to take a deep breath. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine as the pained cries of the former king were washed out with the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. 

You were then enveloped in the dark waters of the ocean, the siren rapidly swimming yards away, surfacing for the briefest of moments in order for you to breathe. You had no chance to even ask him where he was taking you, and your mind could only wonder what Hongjoong was feeling at the moment. You were beyond exhausted, both mentally and physically. Your squinted eyes caught glimpses of the clouds of marine life that you hastily rocketed past, arms subconsciously tightening around the dark haired siren.

When the siren breached the surface, you gasped for air, your arms tightly coiled around his neck, causing him to wince and attempt to shrug you off, “Here’s the runt, as promised,” he growled, arms swiftly prying you off and shoving you forward to two other pairs. You stumbled into a tiny dinghy boat, mind too stunned to return the hugs that you were immediately enveloped in. It was the moment when fingers swiped at your cheeks that you realized you were crying, sobs of relief wracking your frame as you wrapped your arms around the other two men, struggling to explain what happened.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up as San pulled you in for a kiss, an incredulous look meeting his features. Seonghwa grimaced in the water, his head turning as he mumbled something about how disgusting humans were. San shared an apologetic look towards the flustered Wooyoung, whose eyes wouldn’t stop flickering between the two of you for an answer.

‘I’ll explain later, promise,’ the ebony haired male signed, before he was forced to meet your gaze.

“We have to go back. I need to see the King,” you stated after the three of you pulled apart. Wooyoung paused whilst speaking with Seonghwa telepathically, eyes flickering to an angered San who grabbed the pair of oars from your hands, “San!”

“Are you crazy!?” He breathed out, “We’re leaving! We want nothing to do with this town any longer, (y/n). Wooyoung and I already made amends with Yeosang. We’re only waiting for him before we escape. I’m not letting you go back there, not after all the trouble we went through to get you here in the first place.” “You don’t understand!” you tried, stammering on your words, unable to conjugate any proper sentence, “Hongjoong helped me! He knows about your mother’s death- her killer! He’s on board,” you tugged San’s shirt desperately, “Hongjoong knows about Wooyoung, too! Before he came to our town! He can explain everything, please. We need to get to him. There’s no one else on board besides them, San.”

Wooyoung’s brows shot up as Seonghwa explained every word that was exchanged, his hues trained on San’s stunned expression.

A sigh left the siren’s lips.

“Yeosang owes me a lot for putting up with this shit,” Seonghwa grumbled, arms already working to push the dinghy back to where he rescued you, your words ringing in his ears like an echo. How did Yeosang manage to find three crazy humans- and what sea god decided to curse Seonghwa with this fate.

Tattered, white and gold, embroidered fabric littered the water around the blonde siren, bloodied, clawed fingers tracing the bejeweled crown in his hands, a solemn expression on his features. A heavy weight seemed to dissipate off the siren’s shoulders as an amused chuckle racked his frame, remembering the horror stricken cries of his father’s murderer.

The sight of a tiny boat in the distance caught the siren’s attention, and his golden hues narrowed in suspicion at the sight. This was not part of their plan at all. As it neared, his eyes bore heavily into Wooyoung for an explanation, flickering to San and then onto you, before he glared at an unamused Seonghwa, most likely exchanging heated words through their minds. You called out to Hongjoong to send down a rope ladder, and the white haired male’s head peeked up hastily at the sound of your voice. If San wasn’t trembling in rage beside you, you would’ve laughed at the expression on the young king’s features.

“Yeosang, are you okay?”

“You better have a reasonable explanation for this,” Yeosang stated, turning his attention to Seonghwa, whose eyes never left the crown in his hands.

A part of you wasn’t surprised at the sight of a bound and cuffed man on the ship’s deck, a bored Mingi towering over him with his dagger unsheathed.

“I had a feeling you’ll return here,” Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgement in your direction, before facing San, his expression sincere as he explained the reasoning behind his mother’s death. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, darkening the wood beneath his feet as his eyes zeroed in on the gagged soldier feet away.

 Wooyoung’s hand clasped San’s, his heart aching for his friend. Guilt licked the edges of consciousness, regretting not asking her to stay with him and Yeosang back in the cave. If only he had, she would have been alive. Even after explaining to San, the older denying that it was Wooyoung’s fault, he still couldn’t help but feel like her blood was on his hands.

“I give you full permission to do as you wish with him,” Hongjoong squeezed his shoulder, his hand placing a long dagger in San’s palms. Your widened eyes flickered between San and the King. Wooyoung tugged you back, hands gripping your own. His eyes carefully studied San’s frozen expression, fingers twitching against the weapon in his hands, “I’m willing to do it if you don’t want to, of course.”

Mrs. Choi’s killer only shook like a leaf in the wind underneath Mingi’s feet, wild eyes watching the exchange.

San was quick to shake his head, walking past a bleak looking Hongjoong. Steady strides later, and the ebony haired male crouched down eye level towards the trembling soldier, whose eyes glared ferociously at the blank faced Mingi, “You,” he took a deep breath in, tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his chapped lips, “I bet you enjoyed killing an innocent woman, didn’t you?” A flick of silver, and the man winced at the thin, bleeding scrape on his cheek,”Answer me!”

Another flick of the dagger, and the binds gagging the man ripped into two, beads of red escaping the slice on his trembling lips, “King Kim ordered me to! The woman stole his coat! I was only following orders!” 

Hongjoong laughed from feet away, his boots stomping against the deck as he made his way over to the three men, arms crossed over his white blouse, “Mingi, do you think this poor excuse of a soldier hit his head on his way here? Who is the King of Aurora.”

“You, King Hongjoong,” Mingi quipped, a smile threatening his stony expression.

“And who should the soldiers take orders from?”

“You, King Hongjoong. Only you.”

Hongjoong’s eyes dulled as he shoved the tip of his boot into the man’s gaping mouth, pressing down against the back of his throat with hard shoves,”How silly of me. He was only following orders, though. He’s right. One must always follows the orders of a King,” his lips quirked up as he lowered his head to chuckle at the gagging man, his smile borderline manic, “San, as King, I order you to kill him.”

The man’s muffled cries against Hongjoong’s boot had no affect on San, whose hands trembled the longer he stared at him. Hongjoong urged him to go on, kicking the man away with a swift attack to his jaw, his face scrunching up in disgust at the saliva glistening on the leather.

Rays of sunlight gleamed against the edge of the dagger as San raised it high above the fallen’s neck, his hand plunging down despite the man’s strangled cries of protest.

“You’re no better than me, you son of a whore. You take joy in hurting others, don’t you? Will you get off to the fact that you’ll kill me? Will your mommy be proud of you, then?”

The man trembled, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head in shock as the dagger impaled into the wooden deck, splintering it upon impact. Moments of silence passed, the gentle breeze caressing San’s indifferent visage, dark hues hollow as he gazed down at the crying man. Hongjoong watched the retreating figure of San, before giving the sobbing man a glance over, “You’re pathetic. What did he ever see in you, anyway?” The soldier backed against the railing of the ship, profusely apologizing and bowing to Hongjoong. He turned on his heels, arm lazily coming up to wave back as he watched you console and cup San’s face in concern, “Let the sirens decide his fate.”

He ignored the agonized cries, the clanging of metal, and the loud splash seconds later, his smile gentle as he took your disheveled appearance in, “That was some stunt you pulled earlier. You saved me getting my hands dirty,” he chuckled at your expression, the scene reminiscent of the time he found the three of you in the street in the middle of shopping. 

Mingi could be heard in the background giving an approval to someone down below, and seconds later, gargled screams invaded the comfortable silence. You flashed him a small smile, fingers instinctively reaching up to give him a mock salute, “Still getting rid of rats for you, your majesty.”

An affectionate twinkle danced in his eyes as he shook his head in amusement, a hand reaching to ruffle your wet locks, “Always a loyal soldier to my kingdom, I see,” his charcoal hues flickered to Wooyoung, a sheepish expression taking over his visage, “Now I need your help getting my words through, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded, breathless as you quickly signed Hongjoong’s words to the lavender haired male, shock washing the latter’s features at the King’s words, “I hope you find it in yourself to one day forgive me, although I know I do not deserve as much for everything I have put you through,” his hands reached up to remove the coat he wore, before he presented it to the stunned male, “I believe this belongs to you, Wooyoung.”

Trembled hands slowly gripped the golden coat, his eyes peering over at San and yourself for approval. San nodded, brows knitted anxiously as he hesitantly nodded. Wooyoung tugged it on, glancing down to examine the shiny, golden material. Head snapping up, Wooyoung had only a millisecond to gauge your reaction, before the King’s hands forcefully shoved him over the railing of the tall ship, your gasp merging with San’s yelp of shock.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Your hands clutched the railing, eyes searching the blue waters for any sign of your friend. Yeosang and Seonghwa peered at you from the other side in confusion when you propped a leg up onto the metal, preparing to dive in, when a laugh echoed in your ear, arms tugging you back, “Calm down! He’ll show up in three, two..”

Your squirming figure halted as you stared down in bewilderment at the purple haired male staring back at you from the gentle sways of the waves. Gold pectoral fins and rays shimmered on his neck, and he looked down to study the matching fins on his forearms, jolting in surprise at the lack of legs. His head snapped to his left, where two other sirens gaped, seeming paler than they were minutes ago.

Yeosang’s eyes snapped to you, his gaze already telling you he’s going to demand answers as soon as he’s in earshot. 

San stood to your side, his eyes not leaving Wooyoung’s frame as he experimentally swam towards Yeosang and Seonghwa, both of whom hesitantly reached out to graze their clawed hands onto his tail, most likely wondering if it was real, “That’s why he was able to hear them..” you whispered softly, hands reaching up to rub at your eyes, before you cried loudly, startling the man beside you as you climbed onto the railing, arms waving madly at the three sirens, “Tell him I said he’s the prettiest siren I’ve ever seen!”

San grumbled underneath his breath, arms wrapping protectively around your waist to prevent you from falling over, “Can you try and not give me another heart attack, you bum.”

You and San returned to the tiny dinghy, your hands immediately reaching forward to touch and examine Wooyoung’s form in awe while San frantically explained everything to the impatient Yeosang. Wooyoung shot you a bashful look as you traced the gold rays and fins on his neck, before you peered closely at his now sharpened canines and iridescent, tan skin. He playfully attempted to bite your finger as you prodded his lip upwards. 

‘You look like a diamond now.’ 

Someone cleared their throat, and the three of you turned to look up at a sheepish looking Hongjoong, who clutched the ship’s rope ladder, his frame facing you. Wooyoung’s head snapped up moments later.

“I know you said you already made plans to escape the town but.. I wouldn’t mind having the best swordsman of Aurora join me and Mingi on this ship,” Two pairs of brows raised in surprise at the suggestion, your eyes snapping to meet San’s instantly. The king turned to you, his half-unbuttoned, white blouse swaying with the gentle breeze, his eyes kind and warm.

“You’re not going back to Aurora?” you asked quietly, feeling San’s fingers coiling with your own.

“No,” he mused, chuckling at the sight of Mingi’s discarded tight, golden, guard coat onto the water below, “Mingi and I made a promise when we were younger, to one day escape and put our past lives behind. I have no future in Aurora, and certainly not you three after everything you’ve pulled. Even with my word, I can’t guarantee your safety from the noblemen in the town, so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, boot tapping the wooden deck, “I am in dire need of a swordsman and a..” he paused, studying you in silence, unable to conjure up a position.

“I’ll get rid of the rats on your ship, King Hongjoong,” you said suddenly, frame rushing forward to lean over the dinghy, face scrunched in all seriousness.

His hand shielded his face as soft chuckles wracked his frame, your shoulders slumping down while even San shot you a somewhat amused look, “Of course. You can be the designated rat killer. We also need to patch up that nasty cut on your ankle.” 

Yeosang grimaced at the words, eyes hesitantly casting you a glance from where he floated.

“Wooyoung will come with us too, right?” You turned to glance at your friend, who clearly understood what was going on with the shocked and anxious expression he wore. Yeosang’s golden eyes snapped to you in an instant, a bitter frown tugging his lips down, “Wooyoung is part of our family. We can’t just leave him behind, siren or not.”

“He belongs in the ocean. He’s a siren,” quipped Yeosang, eyes darkening,”His place is in the water.”

“He’s family,” you argued back, eyes narrowing at the teal-tailed siren,”Whatever you two had going on was nice and all- but he’s still part of our family. We’re not leaving him behind. Siren or not, he’s still Wooyoung.”

“Maybe you should let him decide that.”

“Two good friends of mine in Port Hala are expecting us soon, actually. We’ll just drop by months in advance– they won’t mind, I’m sure,” Hongjoong leaned back against the hemp ladder, head tilting back and allowing the sunshine to envelop his delicate features, lips gracefully parting as he took sight of the sirens,”I think we have room for three more, as well.”

San shared a look of bewilderment with you, before looking back at the white haired male, who straightened up to quirk a brow at you, “Siren got your tongue?” Wooyoung’s eyes met your own before he gazed at Yeosang with a tearful, apologetic gaze. 

Family cannot be replaced.

An airy gasp left your lips as his clawed hands reached to grasp the dinghy, before hauling himself into the boat with San’s help. You rushed to envelop him in a tight hug, face buried against the fins on his neck, San following suit moments later. Yeosang peered silently from the water, a hard look settling on his features, jaw tight and brows knitted.

His eyes flickered to San subconsciously.

“Yes,” he whispered, nodding with a wistful expression across his visage , “I’ll protect your son.”

The women’s sad eyes flickered to Wooyoung and then back to the siren, “Please, protect all three of them. I consider them my children as well.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I’m going wherever Wooyoung is going,” Yeosang quipped defensively, “Seonghwa is coming too.”

“What-” a startled cry left the other’s lips, his bewildered eyes boring holes into Yeosang’s head, “I never agreed to this ridiculous change of plans. A human cannot ever be trusted, Yeosang. You know better than that.”

Conflict flickered in the golden hues, gaze trained onto the black haired siren, until a voice from above caught his attention,” We’ll have rules against touching anyone’s coats if that helps. Anyone who touches or takes your coats will be thrown overboard with no questions asked. I can guarantee that,” Hongjoong simpered, nodding his head confidently. 

“Are you really leaving?” Seonghwa gritted to Yeosang, the latter nodding his head in affirmation, “You stubborn bastard.”

“You finally have the opportunity to travel to all seven seas, and you’re going to throw it away just like that?” Yeosang quirked a brow, a knowing smile suddenly finding itself on his features as Seonghwa gives him an unimpressed look, “Besides, he’s certainly earned my trust after everything that’s happened.”

“Don’t use that against me.”

“You��ve wanted to since you were young. Guess I’ll just go live your dream then,” he shrugged absentmindedly, turning to flash Wooyoung a smile, “I’ll send you a seashell as-”

“Shut up already,” Seonghwa ran a hand through his dark locks, suddenly snapping his attention to the other humans, “If I ever find you trying to steal my coat, I’ll slice you and use your flesh as fish bait.”

San paled at the threat, and Hongjoong barked out a laugh, “You heard him, crew. Now, I suggest you all to come on board before the noblemen send an armada after us for not returning back to town.”

He blinked at the gaping, fearful expressions.

“That’s an order!”

You startled at the sudden volume, hand scrambling up to salute, San peering over at you in utter confusion, not knowing whether he should bow or salute, awkwardly doing both simultaneously.

“Yes, King Hongjoong!”

A streak of gold whizzed over your head, and at the sound of a splash behind you, your head snapped in surprise at the crownless man, a smirk displayed on his sharp features, “That’s Captain Hongjoong to you.”

[whoknowsbud]

Stand Mutation AU

Warning, this is FILLED with body horror! And somewhat loose but present connections to the recent epidemic! Mainly in part 4...

These are mostly just lists of the designs, and this post will only contain parts 3 & 5. There’s a lot more bulk to what was written to part 4, and there’s a lot more angst written, so that’s going to be a separate post.

(Which is now here!)

The idea here is essentially taking the ‘stand sickness’ Holy and Josuke had and twisting it into overdrive. Rather than gaining stands, the infected mutate (often horrifically, but there are some who look almost unaffected) based on their in-canon stands. The uninfected don’t see the full image; the shapes and colors come through, but not completely. The common headlight-style eyes are a big giveaway (until they’re not).

The mutations here will also commonly hinder most functions, especially rational thought. It’s most often temporary as the infected adjusts to the changes of their body. This can take a number of forms, but what happened to the Nijimura brothers is the worst it gets. The term for this for now is going to be ‘fried’.

The infection is only transferred by the arrow, and genetic relation.

Part 3

Holy has flowers growing on her body. Has a way better handle on it than Jotaro; fully present and coherent, the flowers just need to sap a little of her energy to grow big and bright. So, yeah, she's completely fine.

Jotaro ends up this ethereal star man with so much luscious hair, but also partly fried at the start; ends up being essentially like a big dog for a while (acts on base instinct and can’t articulate).

Joseph’s arms become vines. That’s it, that’s all. Vines for arms.

Avdol is pretty much just fused with Magician’s Red. I say ‘just’, but he’s pretty damn rad.

Kakyoin is basically a bunch of wires, wrapped to make a more human shape. Rather than shooting solid energy bursts, he can send energy through the wires.

Polnareff, like Avdol, is also just fused with his Silver Chariot. The armor and sword are still removable.

Iggy is made of sand. Can shapeshift, often takes the form of a wolf, because he can and he wants to.

Hol Horse has a gun for a hand. Yes, that's all.

Gray Fly... tiny man. Beetle sized old man with beetle wings and dagger tongue. Nasty nasty.

Imposter Captain Tenille is a fish-man, simple as that. Basically take Dark Blue Moon and put it in the mans clothes. This makes it obvious that he’s the enemy the moment he comes out, but Anne is still under some suspicion at first.

Forever is just Strength. Green ship with orangutang face.

Devo basically is Ebony Devil. Imagine making a (somewhat crappy) almost life size doll of Devo, and there you go. Rather than needing a grudge to act, he forms his grudge as he fights, making him stronger.

Rubber Soul is just Yellow Temperance; when he went through stand puberty he just pretty much melted.

J. Geil is just Hanged Man; only seen through reflections. Tied a knife to his hand.

Nena is almost the same as canon; she assimilates a beautiful woman to host her real body (which has no skin covering, so here she needs a host, the looks are just preference), and still leaves parasites on victims through her blood.

ZZ's stand mutation is actually his arm. His arm is the car.

Enya… ghost? Still uses fog for the illusions, still does puppet stuff? But then Jotaro would still have to suck her down so NO, THANKS

Steely Dan, the crab man. Can duplicate himself but at NOWHERE near the same rate. Not as effective either. He's about the size of your average 14 year old.

Arabia Fats is just. On fire. Fire man. Human torch. But more fire. Just fire.

Mannish boy appears with a flat, jester-like face, so the group knows to refuse.

Cameo... genie?

Midler is basically herself with High Priestess's power to become any mineral. Still can shapeshift, but its limited.

N’Doul… could be a water man. Sends his hand out so he can stay safely out of most people’s range.

Anubis... is just the same Anubis as canon. It's a sword, what were you expecting?

Mariah is the magnetizer. It happens through contact, and feels like a small static shock. It does not work on normal people, although they do feel the shock.

Alessi has just become a shadow, his own silhouette, that de-ages those it touches like in canon, with the same eyes and manifesting ability, too. Cannot talk.

The D’arby brothers are a terrible amalgamation of the souls they’ve taken.

Pet Shop is... just its stand I think.

Vanilla Ice is another stand/user mix. As uncomfortable as the v o r e is, it seems like the only sensible thing...

Dio is similar to Jotaro. But green & yellow, with more disturbing growths (those... bullet chain suspenders looking things, and the apparent oxygen tanks on the back). He's a bit distorted, rippling in time with the seconds.

Part 5

Haruno becomes a plant creature (Oh you want limbs? Limbs to hold things? Too bad, you get tendrils!), changes his name to Giorno. The human body is still inside, controlling everything. When he’s truly happy, he blooms.

Bruno's body is just zippers. They can all be opened or closed (although if they're all opened he's kind of a mess, and its an awful noise), and what's under them is just a void. He seems to have glowing orbs as eyes, revealed by a single open zipper over where his eyes would be. To resemble a more human form, he has zippers on his head to look like hair. There are a few zippers that hang off his arms and legs almost like fins, and he will whip you with them.

Abbachio is a glitchy creature that looks like someone constantly flipping channels, with a sort of goo coating his body in almost the exact way it does Moody Blues.

Narancia is a ‘cyborg’, fighting logic output to stay ‘human’

Mista basically goes through mitosis, becoming 7 of himself; but it takes time for them to truly separate.

Fugo appears to be normal, but he has this ‘oxygen’ tank & connected mask. The Purple Haze virus is more of a gas here, produced in his lungs, so he has to have a way to contain it when he's around others. Once he starts getting emotional, he sort of melts into a zombie-like form; starts looking like a typical victim of Purple Haze.

(Giorno's able to take in an absurd amount of toxins and pollution and spit out a shit ton of oxygen, so there's much less concern.)

WE RETAIN THE DINOSAUR SPICE GIRL HERE, TRISH IS A STRETCHY & SQUISHY LIZARDWOMAN.

Mr President is a cube, still with the room. He's like a box. A box turtle, you might say.

Polpo is still in prison. His shadow does pretty much everything Black Sabbath does. Permanent poggers face.

Zucchero is a slug. Has spikes on his body that perform Soft Machine’s ability, and they’re barbed to grab the deflated forms.

Sale... maybe he's already dead. Infection stopped his own heart or something. Or hes like.. a landmark. Like Angelo in canon; fully immobile, but sort of immortal. /till you destroy the body I guess...

Formaggio’s size is constantly fluctuating, not always proportionately consistent.

Illuso... doesn't exist outside of mirrors. He can still communicate to those on the other side, and pull them in, but can't leave, himself. He works similarly to Yoshihiro Kira; ig seal the mirror, you seal him.

Prosciutto has so many eyes. Just all over, so so many. Somewhat shriveled up from the waist down.

Pesci has a fishing pole arm I guess...

Melone is some sort of... digital-ish cyborg thing. The Babyface kids are the same though

Ghiaccio is essentially fused with his suit, with the weak spot in the back of his neck frozen over. It’s actually like the mane of a lion, but ice; he can’t turn his head at all, speaking is near impossible, and eating is a struggle as well. The white album fight reveals a lot:

Due to literally being plants, Giorno has to revert back to Haruno or risk serious danger. This is the first time he’s come out; they knew he existed (he was mentioned in passing) but they weren't sure if he was alive or dead. When he can take his plants form again, it’s... kind of horrifying. Roots and vines coming out of his body, wrapping around him...

Risotto is basically a living Metallica colony. Take risotto, make every 5x5 pixels a metallica bean, there you go that’s him.

Squalo... Sharkboy

Tiziano looks fine, but his mouth is all wrong. Tongues like a starfish.

Secco... mud? Mudman?

Cioccolata looks like a zombie, moldy and decomposed an shit.

Diavolo and Doppio are... basically, literally, just King Crimson and Epitaph. They can apparently switch places? Maybe

[cheemerthelizard]

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 17

Kakyoin dragged his feet along the pavement, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. He kept thinking if he took a walk, then Lily would appear back in their hotel room, asking why he had such a long face. Even after the girl in the ghost alley (Reimi, wasn’t it?) confirmed that she saw his wife ascend up with the same wound that she was cursed with, he couldn’t believe it. I told her I had a bad feeling didn’t I? he thought. I begged her to stay home. She promised me she’d come back alive.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Koichi just across the street from him, who couldn’t help but look on with a twinge of pity.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” Koichi said as he crossed the street. “What are you doing? I haven’t seen you for days.”

Kakyoin looked beside him, then sighed. “I guess a part of me is still holding on to the hope that Lily is somehow alive.”

Koichi nodded. “I miss her, too,” he replied, but quickly added, “O-of course, I don’t miss her as much as you, but she still m-meant something to me.”

“I know what you meant,” Kakyoin answered, almost deadpan.

Geez, Koichi thought, losing a loved one really sucks the life out of you.

“You know, the Speedwagon Foundation shouldn’t be forcing you to work after you just lost your wife,” Koichi stated, in attempts to strike a conversation again. Maybe he was being too pushy, though.

“I’m not working,” Kakyoin told him, still emotionless. “They gave me some time off. I’m just walking around town.”

“Oh,” Koichi mumbled. “Sorry.” He started to walk away, until he saw a familiar face walking up the same way him and Kakyoin were.

“Mr. Jotaro!”

Kakyoin turned his head to face his old friend, who looked straight into his eyes with that infamous expression that couldn’t be deciphered.

“I think I’m getting close to finding the man who killed Lily,” Jotaro told him. “It was mere coincidence that I was traveling this way, but I thought you might want to join me.”

Koichi could practically feel the air around him change as Jotaro mentioned Lily. Kakyoin’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes had a strange spark in them, and his teeth clenched together.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

Jotaro nodded, then continued down the path. Both Kakyoin and Koichi followed suit.

“How do you know you’re close?” Kakyoin asked Jotaro.

“Well, for one, I’ve checked every other clothing repair shop, and this is the last one, so if it’s not here, then there’s not much we can do. But I guarantee our killer will want his jacket button fixed,” Jotaro answered.

Kakyoin accepted that answer, and continued walking in silence. His frown was hiding his gritted teeth, and his pockets were hiding his clenched fists, so tight he could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands.

Breaking the news to Kakyoin wasn’t easy. In fact, Jotaro found it was almost as hard as facing Dio. Three days later, and the scene still played through his head:

He stared at the door, taking deep breaths. Although he volunteered to tell Kakyoin to spare the others, who were still just kids, from having to deal with his close friend’s heartbreak, it didn’t make it any easier on him.

The heavy knock was sure to alert Kakyoin. Hopefully, Emily was asleep. Jotaro could handle telling the man by a small thread, but that man’s two-year-old he absolutely could not.

“Jotaro?” Kakyoin said as the door opened. “This is a surprise. What’s so important you stopped by midday to tell me?”

No, he couldn’t do this. Kakyoin didn’t deserve the crushing weight of death on his shoulders.

But he also deserved to know.

“It’s about Lily,” Jotaro started. Kakyoin gasped.

“Is she hurt?” he asked. “In the hospital? Will she be okay?”

“She… she won’t be okay,” Jotaro tilted his hat down, although it didn’t stop a tear from running down his cheek. “She died.”

It was almost like Jotaro could feel Kakyoin’s heart shatter with that gasp. Looking above the brim of his hat, he could see his best friend trying to remain calm in front of him.

“Lily… she… she can’t be dead!” Kakyoin protested. “Ace of Pentacles can save her!”

“It was sudden,” Jotaro explained. “The enemy killed her instantly. It happened so fast we didn’t have time to see her die.”

Maybe the last parts were a little bit of overkill. He could see it in Kakyoin’s bloodshot eyes as his breathing became short and staggered.

“I’m sorry,” Jotaro murmured. “There was nothing any of us could have done.”

Kakyoin would never forget Jotaro’s sudden somberness, signifying something was wrong the moment their eyes locked. Even now, there was no body to prove Lily was dead, and although he trusted Jotaro’s words with his life, there was nothing to prove that Lily couldn’t come back, limping if she had to, into his arms again. Until then, he would make sure her killer would pay, and pay dearly.

“This is the place,” Jotaro announced. “The only place that repairs jackets that I haven’t checked yet.”

Before Jotaro could lay a hand on the doorknob, Kakyoin ran up and took his place, making sure he was first to enter the store.

“Ah, new customers!” the store owner said as his head perked up from the chime of the bell. “Welcome!”

“We need you to locate the jacket this button fell off of,” Kakyoin ordered. He slammed the button on the desk, and Jotaro gasped. When did Kakyoin take the button from his pocket?

“Well, this is a peculiar request,” the owner mumbled to himself.

“It’s urgent,” Kakyoin added.

As the owner observed the button, he quietly hummed. “It does look similar to the buttons on this jacket,” he replied as he pointed over to a light purple suit.

Bingo! “What’s the name of the one who brought it in?”

“He might not remember that, Kakyoin,” Jotaro said.

“Are you saying I don’t remember my customer’s names?” the store owner remarked. “I remember the name of everyone who’s ever come here!”

“Then what’s his name?” Kakyoin asked.

“It’s…” the owner paused. “His name is… don’t think I don’t remember that man’s name,” he said. “It’s just easier to check.” He walked over to the jacket, reading the name. “Ah, yes. His name is…”

Before he finished, a small, teal tank with a skull on the front crawled up on his shoulder.

“Look over here,” it said.

To no one’s surprise, the owner didn’t hear it. Non-Stand users can’t hear Stands. However, he did feel the tank rolling on his shoulder. His head turned, and the tank jumped into his mouth.

Behind the door, Kira smiled to himself. Hopefully, everything would go as planned.

“This wasn’t anything like the way Lily died, was it?” Kakyoin asked.

“Not a chance,” Jotaro answered. “When we looked back, there was nothing.”

“Mr. Jotaro, Mr. Kakyoin, look!” Koichi exclaimed. While the two men were talking, a hand from behind the door was pulling on the jacket of their killer.

“That must be him,” Kakyoin muttered. His teeth gritted harder than ever. However, unlike Koichi, who ran towards the man behind the door before Jotaro stopped him, Kakyoin knew that this was most likely a trap.

Kira hmphed to himself. Looks like he’ll need a little extra boost to run over Sheer Heart Attack, he thought to himself. Sighing, he dug through his pocket, then tossed the hand in there to the floor, just enough to be seen, but close enough that he could bend down to get it.

That did it. Kakyoin’s fury reached its limit. As soon as he laid eyes on Lily’s severed hand, nothing else mattered. His entire train of thought was clouded with one thought: The murderer had Lily’s hand.

“Kakyoin, it’s a trap!” Jotaro shouted.

“I don’t care if it’s a trap!” Kakyoin snapped. “He’ll pay in Hell for what he’s done!”

Before Jotaro could stop him, Kakyoin started running. Behind the door, Kira smirked. And now, I’ve got you where I want you, he thought to himself.

As Kakyoin ran over the strange, tank-looking thing, it suddenly exploded, right underneath him. The explosion practically blew his legs off, shattered his eardrums, and made him dive headfirst into the wall. When Jotaro and Koichi looked back, he was limply laying on the floor.

“M-Mr. Kakyoin?” Koichi asked. “Mr. Kakyoin! Wake up!”

“We don’t have time to focus on him, Koichi,” Jotaro said.

“He’s your friend!” Koichi exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t you help your friend?”

“He is my friend, but the enemy isn’t attacking him right now!” Jotaro replied. “Right now, that Stand is attacking you!”

***

Kakyoin awoke in a meadow, laying on the grass. Why he was here, only God knew. He slowly rose up to stand, careful not to squash any of the beautiful flowers around him. The birds all across the sky seemed to be flying one way, not in fear of anything, but in admiration of what was ahead. Curious, Kakyoin followed, sensing a presence of something calming as he approached. He saw the glowing aura before he saw the actual presence, but he knew instantly who it was. Standing on the top of a hill, with wings of an angel, was the comforting face of his wife.

“Lily?” Kakyoin asked. The wings fluttered a bit as the angel turned around.

“Noriaki?” Lily asked back. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same question,” Kakyoin replied, his mouth forming into a smile.

“This is the gate to Heaven,” Lily answered. “And I’m here to cast judgement on those who’ve died that have been close to me.”

It took a while, but when Kakyoin connected the dots with Lily’s words, he gasped. “I’m dead?”

“It seems to be that way,” Lily nodded. “So, since I’m the closest one to you, I’m here to pass judgement to see if you reach Heaven or Hell.”

Kakyoin nodded in acknowledgement. For some reason, he was very calm at the moment, despite the fact that this judgement would decide his eternal resting place. That, and he had to leave everyone on earth behind, no matter what, including his daughter.

“Now then,” Lily lifted up a piece of paper to her eyes. “Well, what do you know? There’s only one question! Did you give the ones closest to you all love you could?”

Kakyoin almost scoffed at this question, but decided that wouldn’t be very helpful in his judgement. “Yes, of course!” he answered, confidently and honestly.

“You gave Emily all the love you could?”

“Especially her.”

“You gave me all the love you could?”

“I gave you the most out of anyone else!” Kakyoin almost started to cry, from Lily’s disbelief in him or the fact that her face was tangible again, he wasn’t sure.

“Then why didn’t you save me?”

Kakyoin froze. Why didn’t he save her? There was nothing he could do! At least, that’s what he was told by everyone. His inner thoughts said otherwise, but he blocked those out as best as he could.

“Why didn’t you save me, Kakyoin?”

The ground underneath started to rumble. “Why did you call me by my last name?” Kakyoin asked.

“Because you’re so covered in sin I don’t even want to be associated with you. Why am I here, dead, when I had a child to take care of, and more Speedwagon Foundation cases to solve, when you could have saved my life by forcing me not to go out that day and stay with Emily?”

“I didn’t want you to think that I wanted to rule this family with an iron fist!” Kakyoin protested as a crack formed underneath his feet. “It’s not fair to you to force you to do anything!”

“It was a test!” Lily’s voice suddenly became harsh and angry. “If you had really loved me enough, you would have forced me to stay inside and not walk into my impending doom!”

“Lily, please!” Kakyoin cried. He was holding on to the edge of the grass with his fingers on just his left hand. “Just give me a second chance, and I’ll prove I can change it with Emily!”

Lily walked up to her struggling husband, giving him a glare he’d only seen her give to Dio.

“Enjoy your stay in Hell, Kakyoin.”

Lily stomped on Kakyoin’s fingers, forcing him to let go of the ground and fall into the fiery abyss below. The whole way down, she offered not even the slightest ounce of remorse for him.

And, as he was falling down, Kakyoin suddenly jerked up from bed, breathing quickly. He was back in bed, in a dark room. His room. Not the hotel bedroom in Morioh, but the room in his and Lily’s house. Was Morioh all just a dream?

“Bad dream, Noriaki?” Lily asked groggily. It took everything in Kakyoin not to hold her tightly in his arms, tight enough that it was sure to suffocate her.

“I’ll say,” he answered instead. “It was extremely vivid, and it featured another Joestar, an illegitimate child of Joseph. I’ll tell you all the details later, but the important part is that you had died.”

“That does sound like a bad dream,” Lily got up from her pillow, turning to the man beside her.

Something was terribly wrong.

Lily’s corpse was talking to Kakyoin, with dry, sickly grey skin. She didn’t have any eyes or teeth, leaving a void where the missing parts were. She lifted up her hand, her bony, skinny hand, and placed it on Kakyoin’s shoulder. It was ice cold. “It’s a good thing that none of it is real, right?”

The sight was too scary to look away from. Kakyoin was frozen, unable to scream or even breathe.

“What’s wrong, Noriaki?” Lily’s corpse asked. “It’s me. I’m here.” The jaw fell off of her face and onto the floor.

Suddenly, a scream came from Emily’s room. A scream that she never used unless she was in severe pain, like the time she fell off her bike while it was speeding down a hill. The worry for his daughter overtook Kakyoin’s terror at the sight of his wife as he ran to her room to see what was the matter. As soon as he burst open the door, he saw a familiar figure in the corner of the room, standing over Emily as blood poured out of her skull.

“Too late,” Dio chuckled.

Before Kakyoin could scream, Emily slowly rose from the ground. Her teeth were like icicles, her now glowing red eyes piercing through her father’s gaze.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whined, although this whine was off. It didn’t sound petty, it sounded sinister. “Can you get me a snack?”

The moment Kakyoin moved his legs to run, Emily leaped at him, knocking him to the ground. Her little fingernails sunk into his skin, and he could feel his blood being sucked away.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Emily smiled, her fangs offering no comfort. “Now you can be just like Mommy!”

He wanted to fight back. Kakyoin wanted to throw this little demon taking his blood onto the wall, and kick it until it didn’t move any more. But it was really hard to do that when the demon held his daughter’s face. As he struggled for his last glimpse at the scene around him, the fuzzy shapes that somewhat resembled the ones he knew, he noticed another light forming. It grew, slowly, until his eyes were completely open again.

He was back at that shoe shop, lying face up, looking at the ceiling.

Kakyoin rose from his unconscious position, sitting upright. He didn’t remember exactly what happened before passing out, because it all happened so quickly. One moment, he was seeing red, screaming in rage, running after the man who killed Lily, and the next, he was flying towards a wall, headfirst, upside down.

Taking a look at his surroundings, it was clear that an explosion had happened here. Multiple explosions, actually. And judging from the charred wood coming from the back hallway, an even bigger explosion happened back there. Was it an explosion that sent Kakyoin into the wall?

So maybe it was that tank that made Lily practically disappear, he thought to himself. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t move an inch. Looking down at them, they were still somewhat intact, but the knees had been blown clean off. No big deal, of course, Hierophant could act as his legs. However, one look at the Stand, and its legs were unusable, too.

Kakyoin could hear some muffled talking coming from outside. Surely that was their Stand user. Listening closer, he could hear the voice of Koichi, too. He had to get out there and help, or he’d never forgive himself. If worse came to worst, he could always drag himself with his hands.

However, it wouldn’t have to come to that, because Kakyoin thought of something. Hierophant Green was able to unfold into nothing but strings. Could those strings rope together and act as a brace? It was worth a try. Kakyoin decided to use the strength of his arms, which were the least damaged parts of him. He lifted himself to his feet, and although he could really feel the burn in his arms, it worked. Slowly but surely, Kakyoin worked his way to the back door, grabbing onto the walls when he could. When he finally reached the door, he heard Koichi again, but this time, he could hear the words.

“Your name… is Yoshikage Kira…” he said as he winced in pain.

“H-how did you figure that out?” the other man, most likely the killer, exclaimed.

His name is Yoshikage Kira, Kakyoin thought to himself. He listened to the rest of their conversation, but it was barely important. All that mattered was Koichi was losing, and he would need backup fast. Jotaro was already out, so it would be up to Kakyoin. Slowly and quietly, he opened the door.

“All I need to do now is turn Koichi’s student badge into a bomb with Killer Queen, and he’ll be out of my skin,” Kira said to himself. He summoned his Stand, a catlike creature, and it started to place its finger near Koichi. If he was going to intervene, Kakyoin would have to do it now. There was no time to think about how this man seemingly had two Stands.

“You did well, Koichi,” Kakyoin muttered. “You won against Kira mentally.”

Kira gasped. He had Killer Queen deflect Hierophant’s emeralds before he was hit by them.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Kira chuckled. “I thought you would have died from the explosion.”

“It’ll take more than an explosion to kill me,” Kakyoin replied. He gave Kira a sideways glance.

“So you’ve decided to fight me, in your pathetic state,” Kira observed. “Are you doing it just to stall for time so Koichi doesn’t die? Perhaps it’s because you want to be a hero, even to your death. Or maybe you’re still holding on to the hope that your wife is still alive?”

Kakyoin wasn’t expecting that question. He froze.

“Lots of people do,” Kira continued. “I’ve seen some of the families of my victims beg the police to keep searching, saying that there’s no body to prove that they’re dead. And for Lily, she can make a copy of herself before she dies, so she has to be alive somewhere, right?”

Despite knowing that Kira had seen this same situation before, Kakyoin was still surprised that he knew his exact thoughts.

“Let me tell you something,” Kira said. “Lily is dead! I saw her body explode right before my eyes. You’ll never see her again.” He knew that the one thing keeping Kakyoin in the fight was hope. If he could eliminate it completely, then he would be a much easier opponent to face. And he was right. He could see the little flame of hope fade from Kakyoin’s eyes as he fought tears back to keep his composure.

“So, she’s really gone…” he muttered.

Kira nodded, smiling lightly.

“Well, then,” Kakyoin continued. A couple of Hierophant’s strings shot towards Kira and gripped his neck as tight as possible. Kakyoin looked up, and a new spark was in his eyes. “It’s all the easier for me to finish you off!”

Kira squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst. However, when it took a while for him to stop breathing, he slowly opened them. Sure enough, Hierophant Green was wrapped around his throat, but it was so wimpy he couldn’t feel a thing. It must have taken a lot of energy just for Kakyoin to stand up, and it showed through Hierophant.

“Your Stand is weak,” Kira smirked. “It barely has a hold on me.” He summoned Killer Queen, and chopped Hierophant’s strings. There was a snap, and Kakyoin’s right leg bent where it shouldn’t have, forcing him to kneel to the ground while an agonizing scream left his lungs.

“I’d love to chat more, but I don’t have time,” Kira continued. “Josuke will be here any minute now, and I have to get away before that. Unfortunately, this is where your story ends.”

“I wouldn’t move from that spot, if I were you,” Kakyoin warned, gritting his teeth as he sat down, careful to keep his broken leg away from as much pain as possible. The place where the bone snapped was poking out of his skin.

Kira chuckled a little, but it soon turned into a full on laugh. “Are you trying to intimidate me?” he asked. “You, sitting down with a snapped bone in your leg, knees shattered, having to use your Stand as a brace, trying to do something against me?” As he talked, he walked forward. “What could you possibly-”

Kira was cut off by a dozen emeralds shooting forward at him. He backed away in time, but then a dozen more shot at him from behind. Killer Queen blocked them, but he backed up again, having more shoot out from some unknown source. No matter where he stepped, emeralds kept attacking him. Soon, however, Kira had figured it out. While he was busy laughing to himself at the man’s desperate attempts to choke him to death, Hierophant Green was making itself like a tripwire around the whole place.

“You’re trapped,” Kakyoin smiled weakly. “Like you said before, Josuke will be here any minute. If I just stay awake long enough, you’ll be found out. But that isn’t enough to compensate for what you did to Lily.”

Kira gulped.

“An old tactic I used on another enemy of mine, ten years ago,” Kakyoin continued. “Take this, Yoshikage Kira! 20 meter radius Emerald Splash!”

Kira was bombarded with hundreds of those shiny green gems, some barely scraping his skin, others making a small hole straight through his body. By the time Kakyoin was done, Kira was completely out, laying on the floor.

“Koichi,” Kakyoin heaved, “if it weren’t for you, none of this would have been possible. Thank you. You’ve grown over these few weeks, and I can tell. This may be the last time I can talk to you, so farewell.”

And so, as his vision blurred, Kakyoin allowed himself to faint.

[just-a-spark]

The Before, and The After Part 8

A Knives Out Story

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+ to be safe)

Summery: A wealthy classmate of Meg’s becomes close to the family, a little too close to the playboy grandson of Harlan Thrombey. The events leading up to, and following, Harlan Thrombey’s death.

The man with the southern drawl approached Elizabeth and Phil curiously, taking them in with a new sort of interest, “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, “I am Detective Benoit Blanc, and you two are?”

“I’m Phillip Stevens, my father,” he gestured toward the house, “has been the family’s attorney for years. This is my wife Elizabeth. We came over because Elizabeth had some insight on the case, which she reported to-”

“Lieutenant Elliott.” Elizabeth supplied weakly, ducking her head to avoid Blanc’s gaze.

“She told him everything she knew regarding the case and then... some indiscretions on her part were found out by the family.” Blanc raised his eyebrow and Phil continued, “Her and Harlan were writing letters back and forth, some of... interesting nature.”

“Oh, well, now I’m very intrigued. You must have known Harlan very well then? If you don’t mind, Mrs. Stevens, I would love to ask you a few questions myself. Probably a lot of what you already told Lt. Elliott, but if you’d be so kind as to oblige it would be of great help to the investigation.”

“Uh huh.” Lizzie said quietly, looking from her husband to Blanc, “I’ll talk to you, but you alone. I don’t want the rest of the family anywhere around.”

“We can arrange for us to have a private meeting of the minds, I can assure you.” Blanc promised, guiding Elizabeth back into the house, “We can meet in Harlan’s study-”

“Could we speak in the library? If it’s just the two of us.” Elizabeth asked, seeing her opportunity to get her book back. “The office is so stuffy and I’m feeling a little faint.”

“I didn’t realize you were so familiar with the house, but that’ll do. Lieutenant Elliott, if you don’t mind, please clear out the library and make sure the Thrombeys give us a wide berth. Mrs. Stevens and I may discuss some things of...a delicate nature.”

“You got it, Benny.” Elliott said, leading the way back into the house to clear a path as Benoit walked slowly beside Elizabeth.

As they walked up the steps, he noticed her holding her stomach with a pained look on her face, “Are you not feeling well, ma’am?”

“I’m pregnant. Morning sickness is lasting all day.” She eeked out and the man’s face brightened.

“Congratulations! I’m sorry you’ve been sucked into such a whirlpool of misery during this happy time.” Blanc told her as they passed by Linda and Walter being corralled by Elliott. Blanc took note of Linda’s sharp expression and the way Elizabeth reacted to it with an open face of shame. Once they were in the library, Blanc directed her toward Harlan’s ring of knives, but she plopped herself down in the back left corner by a chess board. “Alright, you play?”

“A little. I don’t need to now.” Elizabeth answered, suddenly less nervous and more calculated. She looked over her shoulder thoughtfully, studying the books beside her and plucked one out, then handed it to Blanc, “In case you’d like to see what all the fuss is about.”

Blanc flipped through the pages until he noticed handwriting scribbled in the bottom right corner, then squinted to read the cursive as Elizabeth subtly pulled her white bound book from the second shelf from the bottom. When Blanc looked up at her in surprise, she let go of the book and coughed loudly to cover the thunk. “I’m sorry. Could I- maybe get some water?”

Blanc stared at her, as if to size her up, but nodded slowly, “I shall grab you a glass. Wait here.” As he stood, she watched him clear the rounded entryway and quickly scooped up the book and placed it into her large bag. When Blanc returned, she felt more relaxed and ready to talk.

“The family thinks I was sleeping with Harlan, which I wasn’t...” She trailed off as Blanc leaned far to the side to study the bookshelf, “What are you doing?”

“There’s a most suspicious looking gap in the bookshelf that wasn’t there before.” He raised his steely eyes to meet hers, “This will be a lot easier if you just hand it over now.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but reached into her bag, producing the white book for the detective. He took it graciously and she leaned back, folding her arms and closing herself off again, which caused him to smirk, “So this is why you wanted to have this conversation in the library, you knew exactly what you needed to take. But why?”

“I don’t want the family to read any more.” She said quietly as Blanc flipped through the book, finding the center full of handwritten notes framed by printed words. “Those are private.”

Blanc’s eyes scanned the pages and widened slightly before his expression changed to one of understanding, “I see why.”

“Harlan was my mentor, and my friend. It was a writing exercise, it helped me a lot.” Elizabeth paused, her cheeks heating as he continued to read, “I’m sure you can see why I didn’t want the family to find out.”

“You know, something I have found over the years, is people often put both their initials when they sign things, yet not a single one of these letters is signed HT. I wonder why?” Blanc questioned and Elizabeth shrugged nonchalantly.

“I don’t know. He wrote first and I followed his lead. It became a game.”

“Linda said Harlan loved to play games, so that fits his character, but I have such a hard time believing these stories are fiction. Often H talks about characters who sound terribly similar to some of the members of the Thrombey household.” Blanc challenged and Elizabeth leaned forward, resting her elbows on the chess table so her hair hung over the book.

“People write about what they know-”

“It’s a very specific viewpoint, and coming back to my initial observation, it becomes very apparent that Eliza’s beau isn’t Harlan Thrombey at all. The reason he never signed his last initial is because it’s different from the man he was trying to imitate.” Blanc leaned in so they were close and Elizabeth didn’t ease up, so Blanc added, “The H isn’t for Harlan, it’s for Hugh.”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, trying to think of a suitable lie to cover her tracks, but the detective wouldn’t think less of her for her secret affair, so she took a chance and trusted him, “My parents didn’t approve of him. He didn’t want to appear off the market. We kept it a secret from everyone except Harlan. I’m sure his family never considered it could be Hugh... we’ve gone to great lengths to make them believe I hate him. He makes it very easy.”

Blanc leaned back and crossed his leg, closing the book and picking up the queen piece, “So, his family doesn’t know?”

“No. Nobody knows. My parents pushed for me to marry Phillip, so I did. I broke things off with Ransom after the engagement.”

Blanc nodded at her explanation, “So you wanted to steal the book back so his family and your husband would never know.”

“I was afraid he’d written something about the last time we were together. I... didn’t want my husband reading it.” Elizabeth admitted, running her fingers through her red hair. “Hugh and I had a very passionate relationship, but it was never meant to last. He’s not very driven.”

“Oh, I have gathered that.” Blanc replied with wide eyes and Lizzie chuckled a little, surprised by how light she felt after sharing her secret, but Blanc wasn’t done questioning her yet, “When was the last time you saw Mr. Hugh Drysdale?”

                         September 30th- The Night Before the Wedding

Lizzie locked herself in the extra bedroom of Phil’s country home. He decided to spend the evening at his parents house so as not to see his bride before the wedding, allowing her one final night alone.

This was to be her home. It was warm and bright and it felt like a prison. Panic began rising in her chest as she leaned her back against the door, willing herself not to cry but losing.

Tomorrow she’d arrive at the Stevens’ home, and marry Phil in a small backyard ceremony. Something small and intimate, so there’d be no excuse to invite any acquaintances. At the time it made the marriage easier, but now as it approached, it was suffocating. Nobody would be around to save her, to object and sweep her away. If she wanted to run, she’d have to do it herself.

Lizzie pulled a purple button up over her grey tank top and pulled on her tennis shoes, then went sprinting down the stairs of her home. When she reached the last step, she paused, realizing that if she took her car, they’d be able to track her. Even if she brought her phone, they’d be able to figure out where she went. If Lizzie wanted to run, she had to leave it all behind.

She casually looked at the security camera in the corner and turned around to go back upstairs. The foyer, living room, kitchen, and Phil’s office all had motion activated security cameras installed. She’d tested their boundaries since moving in, knowing exactly where the blind spots were.

She pulled open a drawer and her old college yearbook, opening to the Freshman page and pulling out a folded piece of paper. Opening it, she read the familiar messy writing, Just in Case, followed by an address. In a private tab on her phone, she typed in the address, and wrote the directions down on the paper so she could leave her phone, disappearing without a trace.

She locked the bedroom door, then cracked open the window, surveying the climb down. If she kept close to the building and made her way toward the trees, she should be able to stay out of sight. So she carefully climbed out, closing the window behind her as she slowly began to scale the side of the white house. She suddenly felt very guilty for all those days Ransom had climbed up the side for her, because doing it herself was absolutely terrifying.

When she finally reached the ground, she sat by the house for a moment, hearing a car driving down the driveway toward the front of the house. “Shit.” She mumbled, knowing she couldn’t get away without being seen, so she lifted her head toward the faint whinny from the barn.

Darting away from the house to the barn, but carefully staying out of the cameras views until she was inside the stable. The horse Phil had gotten for her, a young black Arabian with an even temper and a beautiful coat, snorted when he saw her, and she put her finger to her lips to hush him. Lizzie was thankful Phil cared more about his house than his creatures, because if there had been a camera leading to and inside the stable, Lizzie wouldn’t be able to get away.

“We’re going to go, Beauty.” She whispered to the horse as she scratched the length of his long face, “We’re not coming back.” She quickly grabbed the saddle and cinched him up, then, once his bridle was in place, she led him toward the back door of the stable. As she reached the doors, she looked to the left and saw Phillip’s case of hunting supplies, then slid open the door to see what he had inside. With a hard swallow, she reached in and grabbed a handgun, realizing she didn’t even know how to use it if she needed to. But with no money, no identification, and nothing to her name but this horse, even having it might be enough.

She pushed open the stable door and led her horse out, then closed it quietly, peaking around to see lights on in the kitchen. Phil came home after all, even after promising he wouldn’t.

Lizzie quickly mounted the horse and clicked, giving him slack in an effort to push him on into the night.

Lizzie followed the directions she’d laid out for herself, thankful she’d gone on horseback instead of trying to walk through the woods. They broke through the trees to see a remote white house with massive windows all around. She had no way of telling if this was the right house, seeing as she’s never been there, but the Beamer out front promised she’d find the man she was looking for.

The Cadillac parked next to it warned she may not be welcome.

Lizzie quickly dismounted and tied her horse to a tree at the edge of the treeline near a fresh spot of grass so he could eat while she was away, then continued on foot to the front door of the house.

When she arrived, she knocked loudly, holding her breath. She fluffed out her shirt so it covered the weapon in her pants, but nobody came to the door anyway. She knocked loudly, pounding her fist and finishing with a good kick. Lizzie’s watch told her it was eleven fifteen, but there were lights on downstairs, meaning they were most likely awake, albeit too busy to let her in.

After a while, a blonde woman trotted down the stairs wearing a massive shirt that clearly belonged to Ransom and not her. She came to the door and glared at Lizzie when she opened it, “Can I help you?”

“I need to see Ransom.” Lizzie told her evenly, but the girl just scoffed and rolled her eyes, so Lizzie pushed harder, “Please, it’s an emergency.”

“Yeah, I doubt that. We’re a little busy, so-”

Lizzie slowly reached behind her back and swiftly brandished the gun at the woman’s head, cutting her off mid sentence as she backed into the foyer with her hands up. “I need to see Ransom. And you’re going to leave right now.”

The girl didn’t respond, she just grabbed a phone and some keys on a nearby table and ran out the door, leaving Lizzie to do whatever she intended with Ransom Drysdale and that gun.

As the car sped off, Ransom came barreling down the stairs in sweatpants before stopping in front of the red head, “Eliza?” He looked her up and down, then saw what she was holding, “What are you doing with that?”

She began to quake and Ransom carefully pried the weapon from her hand and leaned over to set it on his table. Once it was gone, Eliza collapsed into his arms and he rubbed her back as she wept openly against his bare chest, “I don’t wanna do this! Please take me away from here, I can’t do this!” She cried as her tears flowed from her eyes and dripped down his torso. Ransom leaned them closer to the door, where he locked it, then shifted to scoop her up and carry her back upstairs.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Four bits of sea glass

More courtesan AU because apparently I can’t get enough of it. Please reblog if you like it, or go leave a comment on Ao3!

~~~~~~~~

When Mollymauk woke up, just for a moment, he was young again. Milky early morning sunlight warm on his bare skin, a sweet but familiar ache in his thighs, the taste of someone else, something other, on his tongue. Caleb,he thought, already reaching for that with everything he had before his brain had even really woken up.

But no. There was someone in the bed beside him but of course it was Trinket, curled up small the way he normally slept, tail held between his pudgy fists for comfort.

The realisation didn’t bring the same pang of disappointment, the one Mollymauk would always feel guilty about a second later, the one he’d felt so many times between leaving Zadash and that pale morning. Because before it could settle on him like an uncomfortable weight, the memory of last night found him.

Caleb smiling at him. Caleb’s tears running down Molly’s own cheek. Caleb kissing him, Caleb in him.

Their last goodnight kiss, after Caleb had insisted he sleep on the sofa, not wanting to impose or ruffle any little feathers after he realised Trinket and Mollymauk slept in the same bed.

Molly rolled onto his side and grinned spectacularly wide, bunching the blanket between his hands as silent delight and joy almost too powerful to bear swept over him, making him tremble.  

Caleb was here. They loved each other.

Even with all the questions still unanswered and uncertainty before them, Molly savoured that fact alone, sweet as honey on his tongue.

“Daddy?”

Molly turned back and saw Trinket’s big blue eyes open and shining in the low light, only half his face surfaced above the blankets. His hair was a bird’s nest of coppery curls, drinking in the fledgling sunlight.

“Good morning, sweetling,” Molly smiles, lifting up on one elbow to smile down at him, “Did you sleep okay?”

Trinket nodded, wriggling out of the little cocoon of blankets his tossing and turning always encased him in, “Had good dreams. Dreamed me and daddy were flying on dragons.”

Molly smiled; his son’s head had been full of dragons lately, ever since he’d found a book on them on the stall of a travelling merchant. Molly had meant to save it for his birthday but his little face when he saw it was far too much to resist.

“That sounds wonderful,” Molly pulled him into his arms, “Was it fun?”

“Yeah,” Trinket nodded, “Mine was blue and yours was…what’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple,” Molly grinned.

“Yours was purple!”

Molly kissed his son right between the eyes, loving how warm and soft he was from sleep. On any other day he would happily stay in the blankets with him for a little longer, as long as he possibly could, trading little stories back and forth, talking about anything and everything.

But today they had a guest.

“Let’s get some breakfast in that little belly, huh?” Molly smiled, rising up and sending the blankets washing down the bed in a silky tide.

“Yeah, yeah!” Trinket followed, standing up on his wobbly legs and fluttering his hands to be picked up, “Breakfast time.”

As he wrapped himself in a robe and carried Trinket through to the living room, Molly was doing quick calculations in his head, as he found himself doing every morning. How much milk did they have? How much bread, how many oats, how much gas in the tank? Could they make it last? Did they have enough lying around to buy more if they needed to?

He’d never share his worries with his son, of course, they were for him alone. But sometimes it was hard to always have his gentle mornings marred by those thoughts running around inside his head.

And it wouldn’t get easier with a third person.

Until Molly turned the corner and found himself in the much brighter living area and realised that he was wrong.

The curtains were open, sunlight streaming in where it only puddled in the other rooms. The blankets Molly had left there last night were put to one side and neatly folded. The breakfast table was already set, bread and pastries piled on wooden plates in the middle, a container of coffee- actual, honest to gods coffee, where in Foamside even sold that? - steaming contentedly to one side. Cups and plates were already marshalled, mismatched and a little chipped, sugar was piled high in the bowl Molly usually used to keep his keys safe.

And Caleb was gingerly sliding a flower into a glass tumbler, setting it in the very centre, nudging it to one side when he wasn’t happy with the placement.

“Caleb?” Molly croaked, stunned.

He jumped a little, eyes darting up, “Oh, morning! I didn’t know when you’d be up so…I just went out and brought some breakfast in.”

“You did a little more than that,” Molly blinked rapidly, coming in and hesitantly regarding the spread before him like he was worried it was just a lovely painting rather than anything real. He’d never seen so much luxury food in one place since he’d left the brothel.

Caleb blushed delicately, “Well…its kind of a thank you, I suppose. For letting me stay.”

Molly smiled, he’d always found that blush utterly adorable, turning to Trinket, balanced on his hip, “Are you hungry, Trinket? Would you like a pastry?

The toddler only nodded, not taking his eyes off Caleb.

“He’s only just woke up,” Molly offered by way of explanation, seating Trinket on the piano bench Caleb had drawn up to the table when he’d obviously realised there were only two chairs.

Caleb nodded, though there was a pinched, anxious look to his face as his eyes flickered to Trinket.

Molly sat a large, golden pastry stuffed with chocolate on the plate in front of Trinket, cutting it into squares designed to fit a little hand. Next was a glass of milk, set safely away from the edge of the table though Molly would keep his eye on it.

Trinket suddenly caught Molly’s robe before he could move away, tugging on it to bring him close.

“Daddy…” he murmured, voice soft and indistinct, “I left Frumpkin in bed.”

Molly saw Caleb’s eyes widen in surprise and jump to the sofa, where a large, mottled brown cat sat contentedly asleep in a puddle of sunlight.

“His toy,” he murmured, realising he’d have to explain that later and blushing, “I’ll go get him, sweetling, don’t worry.”

He hurried back to the bedroom, rescuing the little cloth toy of indistinct species (Caduceus had made him for Trinket’s last birthday and even he hadn’t been sure of what he was) from the folds of the bedding. He let himself have a moment to breathe as he straightened two sagging horns and two loose button eyes.

Caleb and his son- their son, he would have to get used to that- were sitting together, at the same table. They were all eating breakfast together, like a real family.

It was a lot to take in. But it was good, right?

Molly revised his assessment when he came back into the kitchen and saw Trinket, on his feet, pushing on the leg of a very terrified looking Caleb, shoving him determinedly towards the door.

“Customers go downstairs,” he was cheeping firmly, “It’s not store time yet. Go away, please.”

“Trinket, no!” Molly yelped, quickly wading in to rescue Caleb, who clearly hadn’t the faintest idea what to do about this, “Sweetling, Mr Caleb’s not a customer.”  

Trinket stopped, though he was still a little unsteady on his legs and had to stay leaning against Caleb or risk slipping down on his bottom, “But…he came from the store?”

Molly plucked him into his arms, though he was getting a little heavy for it, “Caleb is a…”

He found his words running out, none coming up to replace them. What could he say that wasn’t hedging, even outright lying? Molly was tired of that. Caleb’s expression fell further.

“I don’t think we’re going to open the store today, Trinket,” he said slowly, much to his son’s shock, “How about we have a nice breakfast, get ready and go for a walk along the beach? Then we can talk more about it?”

It took a while to coax Trinket into that idea, almost as long as it had taken to get him used to wearing shoes. But with a few bites of chocolate pastry, he eventually accepted that this was a day off, though one without forewarning. Trying to help his son navigate the waters of an unexpected change of routine, Molly thought how similar Trinket was to Caleb.

Maybe that could be their ice breaker.

Molly took the opportunity to drink so much coffee he felt a little sick. He hadn’t had the stuff in years, as freely available as it was at the brothel obviously he couldn’t have any after he realised he was pregnant, and then he moved to a town where it was apparently as rare as gold dust. To someone who used to cover his horns in literal, actual gold dust, it was strange to realise that something he’d taken for granted in his youth was almost unknown to the many, many people, not even all that far from the city, who lived such different lives. There had been a lot of uncomfortable moments like that after he moved, when he realised just how privileged and pampered he’d been, earning a life of near princely extravagance on his back.

He didn’t miss it, the coffee or the gold dust or the riches. He didn’t miss any of it. But it would be nice if he could afford breakfasts like this for Trinket every once in a while.

Molly pulled his thoughts away from the past, sitting with it was never comfortable for him. He looked at Caleb instead, Caleb now, Caleb here.

He didn’t look particularly comfortable, understandable after having your son try and evict you from the breakfast table. Molly wanted to kiss him so badly, in a sudden rush that was difficult to fight. But that would be far too much to explain to Trinket right now, even if he was distracted by the chocolate covering his cheeks.

So instead, he reached under the table and entwined their fingers together. Even that was enough to lift Caleb’s blue eyes to his, startling against the rest of him like chips of sea glass in dark water, and send a smile full of relief flickering across his face.

Molly smiled back, running his thumb over Caleb’s scarred palm. He could still trace those scars by memory if he wanted, he knew each and every one like a road map of his home.

A home he wanted Caleb to be part of.

Molly warned Caleb to dress warmly, there was rain in the air. When the wizard blinked in surprise and asked how he knew, his only answer was a shrug, a smile and an assurance that there was always rain in the air in Foamside.

It turned out to be true though, the sky was slate grey and so was the sea and the sand. There were flashes of blue and deep green when the waves rolled over but for the most part it was a palate of a singular colour. Molly pulled a face. He’d wanted it to look a little bit more impressive for Caleb’s first visit.

But he needn’t have worried. As soon as the dunes cleared and the waves lay out before them, Molly heard Caleb’s breath catch in his throat.

The tiefling smiled as he let go of Trinket’s hand and let him toddle off across the sands he was so familiar with, “You’ve never seen the sea before?”

“A little last night but it was so dark…” Caleb murmured, eyes fixed on the horizon, “I didn’t realise how big it was…”

Molly didn’t feel the need to apologise for the view any more. Clearly Caleb adored it.

“Let’s walk a little way. Help me keep track of Trinket, he likes to run into the waves when I’m not looking.”

After a little while, Molly went to take Caleb’s hand again only to find those long fingers already seeking out his own. It was becoming as easy as that.

“Trinket?” Molly called, deciding that waiting for the time to feel right wasn’t going to get them anywhere, “Come here, sweetling.”

Fortunately, Trinket was dry when he found them again though he had a large clump of seaweed on his head, held up by his stubby horns.

“I found new hair, daddy!”

“That’s great, Trinkie,” Molly smiled with slight exasperation, noting Caleb muffling a snort of laughter into his fist, “But you might get sand in your eyes, so how about we take it off for now?”

There was a bleached white log, clearly well-travelled, lying on the apex of the next ridge. Molly took a seat on it, settling his son on his lap and patting the space next to him firmly when he saw Caleb hesitate.

“Sweetling, do you remember a little while ago when you asked me why the other children mostly had two parents and you just had me?”

Molly wasn’t eager to bring that back up but it was as good a starting point as any. It hurt, remembering how Trinket had clearly held on to this question all through dinner since his daddy had pressed him to play with some of the other village children. Old enough to realise it was an awkward topic but not old enough to know why, he’d finally blurted it out and looked immediately like he’d wished he hadn’t.

Molly remembered feeling a similar way.

“Uh huh,” Trinket nodded, apparently unconcerned as a baby crab crawled between his horns, clearly a stowaway from the seaweed wig, “You said I had another daddy who lived far away and you’d tell me more when I was bigger…” his eyes opened wide, “Am I bigger now?”

“You are,” Molly said cautiously, rescuing the baby crab, “Well…”

Caleb spoke up then, his voice laden, “I’m your other father, Trinket.”

Trinket turned and looked at him like he’d never really seen him before, eyes wide. No one said anything for a long time, except the sea which rumbled on as it always had.

“You have eyes like me,” Trinket eventually said, voice curious, “You have hair like me too.”

Molly fought a tearful smile. His son had picked out the same things he had done, back when he’d seen his face for this first time.

“I know,” Caleb managed a smile, though there was sadness in his eyes that metastasised as he continued, “And I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t part of your life until now. I…I don’t think words are ever going to be enough to make that up to you but I promise, I’m here for you now and I’d love to be your father, the best one I can be…if you wouldn’t mind that?”

This time, Molly took Caleb’s hand where their son could see. Where anyone could see if they cared to look.

Trinket considered that, scratching at a smudge of sand clinging to his cheek, “Daddy said you lived far away?”

“Yes, Trinket,” Caleb nodded, “A city quite a way away.”

“Well, then,” the young boy smiled, like sun breaking through clouds, “No wonder it took you so long to get here, travelling all that way.”

Molly smiled as Caleb chuckled, relief flooding his face. He refused to absolve himself of the part he’d played in Trinket not having Caleb in his life and he would tell him about it. But maybe that was a conversation for another day. When Trinket was just a little bit bigger.

Like a baby bird taking its first flutterings out of the nest, Trinket moved himself over to Caleb’s lap. There was hesitation at first, a moment of uncertainty but only a little before Caleb’s arms encircled him, holding him as safely and securely as Molly ever had.

“I think I’m glad you’re here now,” Trinket said, fastening his hand in Caleb’s scarf.

“Me too,” tears were thick in his reply, though the smile on his face was a mile wide.

“And are you gonna stay now? Forever?”

Caleb glanced over at Molly, his smile softening, “Yes. I think I am. If you’ll have me?”

Molly could feel tears sliding down his face but he did nothing to stop them as he leaned in and let his head rest on Caleb’s shoulder. Trinket’s little hands came up to pat the tears away though he seemed to understand they were happy ones.

“Of course we’ll have you.”

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT/Baron Jitsu fanfiction: Dating… With Children - Chapter Ten

(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment or kudos)

Plot:  Benjamin Draxum hardly considered himself a man of high social standing. Not because he was uncouth or unworthy of it, mind you, but simply because he didn’t have much of a social life. Hard to have one when he usually spent his days at work, cooped up in a lab for so long that he often had his lunches in there, and his nights at home reading or doing research for more personal projects. But perhaps meeting handsome semi-retired movie star - as well as his four young sons - could change all that…

((Last of the updates for probably a while, unless I get hit with another bolt of inspiration. Again, hope you all enjoyed! ^v^))

As reluctant as he was to do so, Draxum was man enough to admit that as he stared down the multiple aisles of toys that he was completely and utterly at a loss.

He had meant to buy a present in the days leading up to the actual event, he really had. But online research in-between doing the research he was actually getting paid to do proved fruitless. There were plenty of suggestions and advertisements, but most of the toys and products brought to his attention either didn’t fit at all or just didn’t seem like a good enough gift.

And so, here he was. In the middle of Gilbert’s toy section, mere hours before the actual event, still trying to answer the question of what a seven-going-on-eight year old boy would want for his birthday.

“When I was a kid, I was always the most satisfied when I just got cash,” he mumbled to himself. But cash for a child’s birthday gift would just be tacky, as would a gift card. He tried to think back on what he liked as a kid, and briefly remembered a few science-related toys he had enjoyed fiddling with, but that seemed more like a Donatello gift than a Raphael one. There really wasn’t anything worse than getting a gift that you didn’t just dislike, but was clearly meant for someone else. Draxum had learned that at a young age during an elementary school gift exchange where he had gotten a jewelry making kit that had been meant for the friend of the student who had bought it, not knowing the exchange was supposed to be random.

At the very least, Draxum was confident enough that he wouldn’t make a mistake like that. He had a pretty good grasp on what Raph liked… and that was the problem.

Most of the wrestling and superhero and ninja figures that lined the action figure aisle were the same toys that he had seen in Raph’s room. Stuffed bears had a similar problem, and even if he was sure Raph wouldn’t mind another bear friend, he also knew that at that age gifts were only really exciting if they were something you DIDN’T already have, and something that was instead truly surprising.  

Moving past the dolls and the pool toys that had been put on clearance, as well as a huge display of new Mrs. Cuddles plushies (definitely a bad idea, if Raph’s reactions to her commercials were anything to go by), Draxum then entered the board game and activities aisle. He had been lucky when Trivial Pursuit Family ended up being a good purchase, but wasn’t sure if there was a board game that would appeal specifically to Raph. There were also more interesting things like ‘Make Your Own Fossil’ kits, bead art, Shrinky Dinks and other similar crafts.

“Too bad he isn’t as into arts and crafts as his brother,” Draxum mumbled. Though, Raph DID like to knit… But a bundle of yarn wasn’t exactly an exciting gift either. It was a bonus “just thought I’d pick this up for you too” gift, at best. With a sigh, he decided to give the Lego aisle a try - and that’s when he saw it almost hidden away as it sat on the top shelf.

Funnily enough, he remembered seeing the game in stores when he was a child, though he was sure it wasn’t the original toy even if it was incredibly similar. Just by looking at it, Draxum could tell that it would at the very least peak Raph’s interest. It was inexpensive but not cheap, a surprise definitely yet not a total shot in the dark pertaining to whether or not Raph would like it. “It’s probably as close to a ‘perfect’ gift as I can get,” he admitted. So he picked up the box and headed towards the gift bags…

He ended up being the second guest to arrive to the small party, just a few minutes after April and her family. “You must be Ben,” April’s mother said as she and her husband shook his hand, immediately recognizing the man from both her neighbor’s and her daughter’s description of him, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Draxum nodded, a bit stiff and professional though thankfully not standoffish. He did loosen up a bit however when Raph nearly knocked him over with a hug.

“You came!” Raph grinned, just as happy as he had been several days ago when his father first offered his boyfriend the invite. Truth be told, even Raph could tell that Draxum wasn’t much of a party guy - not like his pop, who always insisted on celebrating things whether it be in a big or small way. But the doctor had become such a big part of his life lately that it would’ve been weird and kind of sad to not have him there to celebrate with them.

Draxum seemed to share the sentiment, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s head and patting his long and curly hair. “I did. Happy birthday, Raphael.” Raph smiled, thanking him before excusing himself, wanting to get back to his brothers and friend. Having seen the whole scene, April’s parents shared a look before nodding in approval. Really, it was no surprise that their neighbor who had been single for as long as he had lived on their street had ended up choosing someone like Draxum.

The final guest arrived just a few minutes later, her parents unable to stay and instead just dropping her off. Draxum couldn’t help but stare at the pair as they stood in Lou’s doorway, the two men nearly complete opposites. One of them was huge, practically towering over Lou and his own family, with a firm brow and wearing a casual, light purple tank top and shorts. The other man was much smaller and thinner in stature, his sharp eyes framed with crows feet and dressed in a very nice sweater-vest and khakis combo.

Their daughter stood out just as much, looking about as old as April, wearing a black and purple jumper with hair so short that it had nearly been shaved off and face as serious as a nine year old could be. Though, as her fathers brought her into a hug, giving her plenty of quiet “We love you”s and “Have fun”s, her expression did soften just a little. And, once April took her hand and the boys gladly welcomed her, she even managed to smile.

“That’s Yuu. She’s a new friend from school,” Lou explained as he handed Draxum a cup of juice, “and a new student in general, having been homeschooled until this year. From what I have heard, she’s a bit of a loner. ...And apparently VERY intense when it comes to games in gym.”

“Well, it looks like she’s found her group now,” Draxum commented as he watched a grinning Yuu, who had teamed up with Mikey and was currently chasing after a laughing Leo and April with toy swords.

Lou smiled, nodding. “Yep, I think she has.” This was her first time over, but Lou was already certain that it wouldn’t be her last.

After about an hour of free play for the kids and socializing for the adults, Lou gathered all the guests up for party games. It was typical kids’ party stuff with musical chairs, duck-duck-goose and limbo. It was mostly for the kids, though each adult guest got dragged into at least one round, leading to plenty of laughs for everyone. (The O’Neils turned out to be very skilled limbo players, and Lou practically falling into Draxum’s lap as they both tried for the same musical chair had definitely been one of the most memorable moments.)

But the best game had definitely been saved for last, and all it took was Lou saying that it was time to go outside for the kids to all run to the backyard, where a big and round piñata with pictures of the various New York League wrestlers was already hung.

“You guys can go first,” Raph said, passing the bat to his youngest brother while the adults stood back to watch. He knew very well how strong he could be, and as much as he wanted to bash open the thing, he also wanted everyone else to get a turn.

Mikey tried to hit it as hard as he could, but to no avail. He pouted and passed the bat to Leo, who also couldn't manage to damage the piñata despite his efforts. Neither could Donnie, surprisingly. Not even April could manage to dent the thing, and by this point all the kids were starting to get more than a little frustrated.

“Geez, did you make it with super glue?” Draxum asked.

“Hey, I just bought it at a normal party store!” Lou insisted. Who would've thought a ten dollar piñata would be so tough. “Hmph, if they can't get open soon, I may just have to go over there and Hot Soup it open myself just so they can get the candy.”

“...That's not a verb, Lou.”

“It is the way I use it.”

Yuu took the bat now, screaming the mightiest battle cry she could muster as hit her ‘foe’. And, much to everyone’s delight, it actually cracked some, a huge dent now in it’s side. Yuu grinned at her victory, and passed the bat onto an awaiting Raph.

“Come on, big brother,” he heard Donnie say, “Finish it off!”

The other kids, as well as his father, joined in. “Yeah!” “Do it, Raphie, do it!” “You got this, Raph!” “Just one good hit, son, come on!”

Gripping the handle tightly, Raph prepared to swing. “Hot SOUP!” He yelled as he whacked the stubborn thing, resulting in a candy explosion that was so spectacular that even Draxum had to clap at it.

“Ha, that’s my boy!” Lou cheered over the candy free-for-all. He nudged Draxum slightly. “See, told you it was a verb.”

“Well, it is in this family, at least,” Draxum chuckled.

Once the candy and piñata bits (which everyone gladly let Mikey have for whatever future art project he had in mind) were cleaned up, it was back inside for presents and then cake. As was tradition in their household, everyone sat in a circle with Raph taking the spot next to the small pile of presents, all of which were wrapped or in a bag with the exception of one that instead had Chinese shipping labels on it.

“I know what this is!” Raph grinned, opening the box. He held up the various Chinese candies within for everyone to see. “Thanks, Auntie Shen!” He shouted, not caring if his aunt could actually hear him or not.

The next few presents were just as well received. A basketball from April to replace the one they had lost, some Teddy Bear Town accessories for his bears from Leo (courtesy of the small allowance his father had given him for the occasion), a VERY sparkly and colorful card from Mikey, a small homemade music box from Donnie, and a couple small ninja action figures from Yuu. Of course, Raph gave everyone plenty of thanks and hugs for their gifts.

Finally, Raph grabbed Draxum’s bag, and the scientist held his breath as he took the box out of it. “...Rock em’ sock em’ robots?” Raph read, looking curiously at the stylized pictures on the box before glancing up at Draxum.

“It's a game,” Draxum explained, not too surprised that Raph had never seen it before, “Each player takes control of a robot, and they fight to try and knock the other’s head off.”

“Whoaaa, really?” And now what he knew what it was, the birthday boy didn't hesitate to open it up. Sure enough, there was a small plastic boxing ring and two different colored plastic robots that were ready to knock each other's block off. “Awesome!” Raph smiled as he pressed a button, getting the red robot to throw a punch.

“Hey, I wanna try!” Leo said, already grabbing the controls for the blue robot.

“Me too!” Mikey shouted at the same time that Yuu insisted, “I also wanna challenge you!”

Within a few rounds, it ended up becoming somewhat of a robot rumble tournament, with several fights happening back-to-back with each new challenger going up against the winner of the previous round. Some of the kids even started putting up bets on who would win using some of their piñata candy, though it was still exciting no matter who won. It ended up taking the announcement of cake to finally drag them all away from the plastic ring.

By that time, Draxum was starting to feel a strong headache coming on thanks to all the shouting and excitement from his gift. “Maybe it was too perfect of a gift,” he mumbled to himself.

Still, he didn't want his oncoming bad mood to spoil Raph’s day, so Draxu, simply excused himself and went outside for some fresh air and quiet. Of course, it didn't take long for his boyfriend to join him, two pieces of red velvet cake in his hands.

“Hey, handsome,” he said, handing him a slice, “Everything alright?”

Draxum nodded, silently thanking him for the dessert with a soft kiss on his temple. “I'm fine, just a headache.”

“Ah, yeah,” Lou nodded, slouching a little himself as he reveled in the near silent backyard. “Kids parties can be fun, but they can be pretty rough too. If you need to leave, you can.”

“I’ll be fine,” Draxum told him, “I just needed a break is all, but thank you.” He glanced back towards the old house, and through the window saw Raph and the others race back to the living room, their sugar-spiked energy returned and their thumbs ready for more robot action. A small smile returned to Draxum’s lips.

Lou took a couple bites of his cake before speaking again. “Looks like your gift is the fan favorite.”

“Honestly I wasn't even sure if he would like whatever I got him,” Draxum admitted, picking up his own fork, “I didn't know what to get, and I ended up finding it by chance.”

Lou hummed. “You could've just texted me for gift suggestions.”

“I know,” Draxum said simply, letting the silent subtext behind his words speak for themselves. Lou smiled, shaking his head slightly. Of course Draxum would want to do it on his own, but while a bit unnecessary, it was also still sweet.

“Though, I didn't see any gifts from you,” Draxum continued, “Let me guess, you already gave him one of those big closet-reveal surprise presents?” Leave it to Lou to turn giving a present into a bit of a show.

“Oh, no no, I just took him to the toy store in Times Square after his birthday breakfast to pick out his own present.”

Draxum stood there for several seconds before finally uttering a perfectly flat, “What.”

Lou shrugged, taking another sweet bite before continuing. “I still try to surprise them with their Santa presents, keep the ‘holiday magic’ alive and all that, but birthday presents? I just let them pick it out for themselves. From what I can tell, they seem to like doing it that way. Makes them feel more grown up that they actually get to choose, and it certainly makes things easier for me.” When he noticed Draxum still giving him a flat look, Lou just gave him a “What?”

“Oh nothing, nothing,” Draxum all but sighed as he went to finally take a bite of his cake, “Just don’t be surprised if I use that strategy the next time I don’t know what to get your kids.”

((I love Recruit and her foot clan dads so much, I just HAD to put them in this universe. Anyway *points at Lt. and Brute* When I say underrated, you say ship! UNDERRATED! Lol. And yes, until we get her official name reveal, I am pretty much basing Recruit's name off that one "Hello, you" line from Brute in Hot Soup: The Game. It's silly but it's still better than calling her Karai imo....Also, Andy Suriano actually posted a sketch of Foot Lt. in a sweater vest on his instagram and I just... I need that to be canon. I need it. But for now, I'll settle for him wearing it in this universe, lol.))

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z Movie 12:  Fusion Reborn (3/6)

So Janemba’s messing with King Yemma, cutting off his authority over the boundary between the living and dead.  Yemma knew this would have dire consequences for the universe, and we see that manifest on Earth, where dead people are suddenly back from the grave.   For example, this family is at a cemetary to visit their grandfather’s grave, only to find him alive and well in his burial clothes no less.    He’s not a ghost or any other sort of apparition either; he has feet and everything.

Elsewhere, an older man named Romeo has a similar experience at the grave of his deceased lover, Juliano.   Or Julianne?    I don’t know.    You’d think they would have called her “Juliet” to play in with Romeo, except in the play they both died young.    Here, Romeo survived, and he’s and old man.

But Julianne hasn’t aged at all in the past sixty years since her death.   It kind of makes for an awkward reunion.   

Incidentally, Romeo has a crucifix, so this marks the first official appearance of Jesus Christ in Dragon Ball.  We’ve seen crosses and the name “Jesus Christ”, but this is an actual image of the Son of God Himself.    “But Lord, why are there no footprints in the sand during the most difficult parts of the journey?”  “Because that was when I Instant Transmissioned you, lol.”

Speaking of crosses, here’s Dracula, and I guess he was dead, until he came back today.   But he still has a wooden stake in his heart, which... okay why does he want it removed if it’s not killing him?  Why can’t he just take it out himself? Also, if Janemba’s powers are causing dead people to come back to life, shouldn’t Dracula turn back into a human?   

Meanwhile, some horde of invaders on horseback marches through traffic.    I think these are supposed to be Mongols, but I dunno.

They kind of get their thunder stolen when a second army of tanks shows up, let by Adolf Hitler.  I mean, it’s not quite Hitler.  His uniform is bright purple, and the real Hitler wouldn’t be leading a battalion of tanks into action.  But this movie never bothers to give him a satirical name, like “Dunkoff Shitler” or “Adenoid Hynkel” or whatever.   So I just refer to this guy as Hitler.   Same as that vampire from a minute ago.  

In any event, this guy’s obvious resemblance to Hitler is why his scenes were edited out in several countries, which have laws against depicting Nazi imagery.  For what it’s worth, the movie doesn’t really lose much with these scenes taken out.

Also, there’s just straight up zombies running around, which I don’t really understand, since Hitler and Julianne are fully alive.  But that’s the chaos of Janemba for you.  He’s not purposely doing any of this.   This is just the result of him cutting off King Yemma’s power to regulate the dead.

But don’t worry, folks, Gohan’s here and he’ll save the day, right after he finishes eating.

Goku may be dead, but his legacy lives on in his sons, Gohan and Goten.   Chi-Chi doesn’t mind doing all the dishes from the boys’ meals, but she does miss her husband at times like these.

So Videl offers to help with the dishes, but Chi-Chi’s like, no way, you’re a guest in this house.

But somehow we end up with Videl doing the dishes in the next scene.   This is one of my favorite animations in this movie.   With the sound effects, I could watch a loop of this all day. 

Chi-Chi is impressed, so she tells Videl that she’ll make a fine wife.  

And Videl’s all “Marriage?  Gawrsh!”   This is adorable.  She’s so worked up that she drops a dish.

But Chi-Chi doesn’t mind, because she still thinks Videl is cut out for married life.  In the manga, Chi-Chi wants Videl to marry Gohan so she can get a chunk of that sweet, sweet Mr. Satan fortune, but in this movie, I almost feel like she’s proposing to marry Videl herself.   “Marry me, Videl, so I may never have to wash a dish again!”  “Wh-what about Gohan?”  “What about Gohan?”

Then Videl breaks more dishes, but before she can clean them up, she gets a call from the Satan City Police, who inform her that the dead have risen and are overrunning the town.   Also, they ask her to contact Great Saiyaman.  Videl’s like “No problem, I’m at his house now.   I think his mom is coming on to me.”

“Stay away from my mom, Videl.”

Meanwhile, in Otherworld, Goku and Pikkon’s championship match is interrupted when a giant crystal sprouts out of the ring.

The Grand Kai believes the disturbance is coming from King Yemma’s domain, and he sends Pikkon to investigate.   But Goku doesn’t want him to go, since that would mean he’d win the tournament by forfeit.   So the Grand Kai orders Goku to go with Pikkon, and that works out, since Goku can teleport there.

When they arrive, they find everything all messed up.

Yemma somehow contacts them from within the barrier around his domain, and he points out Janemba on the roof.

Pikkon tries to ask Janemba to cut the shit, but Janemba either won’t cooperarte or he can’t understand him.   When Pikkon loses his patience, Big J flicks him into one of those floating jellybeans he made.

This catches Goku’s interest, and now he’s happy that they left the tournament for this, since Janemba seems like an even greater challenge.

Janemba seems to agree to tangling with Goku, so he suggests that Pikkon see to Yemma while Goku lures Janemba to hell, where he’ll be out of the way.

I’m not sure if there were already jellybeans in hell, or if Janemba brought a bunch down with him.  

Otherwise, Hell has experienced its own bizarre changes.  I’m not entirely sure what’s changed, since we only saw it twice in the entire run of the anime up until now, but I’m pretty sure all those humanoid-looking figures weren’t there before.

Janemba grabs a few and turns them into mini-clones of himself.

Goku thinks they look cute until they all start ganging up on him.

Fortunately, Goku can just beat them away with a few roundhouse kicks, and they all vanish.   The bad news is that the big Janemba won’t be that easy.

Back on Earth, Gohan’s having tons of fun clobbering zombies. 

Videl’s doing pretty well against them too, but the real question is: Why is this happening, and how do they stop it?   Gohan isn’t sure, but he’s confident that it’ll all work out with the two of them together. 

Videl’s charmed by his answer, but then--

Some jagoff intrudes on their moment.

Oh look, it’s this asshole.   Yeah, Frieza’s back and he’s in this movie too, along with Dracula, Hitler, and Jesus.  For those of you keeping score, that means Steel Ball Run, Hellsing, and Resurrection F were all inspired by this movie.

Frieza is surprised that anyone on Earth knows him by name, so Gohan unmasks to reveal that he was the kid with the bowl-haircut on Namek.        

Videl’s completely smitten here.   “Wow, he’s wayyy dreamier than his mom!”

So Frieza’s decided to kill Gohan as revenge for Goku defeating him.   You’d think he’d be mad about Future Trunks killing him, but he was friends with Gohan too, so it still works.   The part that doesn’t work is this punk-ass bitch running around in Movie 12 like it’s still Movie 3. 

So Frieza sics a surprise army of henchmen on Gohan to soften him up.  Of course, it makes perfect sense that all the top Frieza soldiers would be here, and that they’d still be loyal to Frieza, but there’s also a lot of Movie 1-5 henchmen too, and most of them don’t even know Frieza.  Still it’s not hard to believe that they could be persuaded to join his side.

But Bojack seems pretty hard to swallow.   Out of everyone in this scene, he’s definitely stronger than Frieza ever was, so why isn’t he calling the shots here?

Anyway, waves of henchmen, Frieza’s invincible, what will Gohan do now? 

FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA

Hadou ooana GALAXY Yudan wana PARASITE

FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA

Obienaku wa warera min

DIE!DIE!DIE!

So yeah, everyone sees Gohan END Frieza with one fraggin’ punch, and they all turn chickenshit and run away.  Even Bjoack, I guess, which only makes sense, because Gohan punched a hole through him in Movie 9. 

Videl’s like “Wow, it’s kind of weird how all of these dead people came back to life, and presumably we can’t kill them again because they’d just come back, and yet Frieza was the only jerk in this whole movie who got exploded and stayed dead from all of this.”

Then Gohan does his victory poses, and Videl swoons off-screen.  In the dub, they changed the ending dialogue to suggest that Gohan and Videl made out shortly after this scene, and Goten and Trunks saw it.   It’s not in the Japanese script, but come on.  How was Videl not al over this dude after this?  We know it happened.  

Meanwhile, Mr. Satan is punching zombies someplace else, and he’s pretty pleased with how well he’s doing, except there’s no one around to watch him in action, so he moves on to find his grateful public.

Fortunately, he won’t run out of zombies anytime soon.  

Meanwhile, Goten and Trunks are helping out by gathering the Dragon Balls,   They find the seventh one on a golf course.

But Goten gets hit with a golf ball while he’s there.   Irritated, he decides to hide the ball to get payback on whoever sent it his way.

But he hides it in the hole, so the golfer thinks he made a hole-in-one and he’s sobbing with joy.   This doesn’t have much to do with the movie, but what’s great about Fusion Reborn is that you can expand on almost any scene and make it part of the wider story.   Maybe this guy’s a dead Frieza Soldier who got the call to mobilize and he said “Fuck that, if I’m alive, I’m gonna hit the links one last time.”  Or maybe he’s just a regular dude, but the lady there is his dead wife, who’s come back to tell him that the accident wasn’t his fault, and it’s okay for him to move on with his life.    Or they’re both alive, but the golf course gets destroyed by Cell during his epic battle with Tiencha.

Back at Capsule Corp.  Gohan summons Shenron.  For some reason,  in the dub, she tells him he’s “the only one who can,” and I’ve never understood that.   Maybe she means that Gohan’s the only one who understands the crisis well enough to make the right wish to Shenron, but she could still call the Dragon.   She’s done it before several times.

It’s funny how this is the first time Goten and Trunks have seen Shenron, even though the plot of Movie 10 was them gathering Dragon Balls specifically to see Shenron.  That’s how big a disappointment Movie 10 was.  Meanwhile, Movie 12 is so awesome that it pays off ideas from other movies.    

Videl might have wished for a handsome BMF with cool shades...

But Shenron can’t grant a wish that’s already come true.  Let’s just pause here to drink in this majestic shot of Casual Friday Great Saiyaman.   

...

...

...

Nice.

I’m just gonna put it here again.  It’s great.   

So Gohan explains the situation to Shenron and asks him to put all the dead people back where they belong, which Shenron says is a simple task. 

But then he says he can’t do it after all.  Goten complains, and Trunks silences him before Shenron can take offense.

Now, in the dub, Shenron gives a more thorough explanation.   He can move the dead back where they belong, but with King Yemma out of commission, there’s nothing to stop them from simply coming back.  I think that logic is strongly implied in the subtitles, but it’s not quite so clear.    In any case, this is beyond Shenron’s power.  It wouldn’t be if Yemma were on the board, but if that were the case, there’d be no need to involve Shenron in the first place.   

So that leaves everyone feeling pretty dejected.   The problem lies in Otherworld, and if Shenron and Gohan can’t fix it, then they’re out of options.  

And while they ponder what to do next...

...Shenron awkwardly asks if there’s anything else he could do for them while he’s here.

[originalcharactersandmore]

I wrote something! It’s probably still a little rough, as all I’ve done for editing it fix the spelling mistakes... but I wanted to post it anyway! This is a The Arcana Game AU! I will probably also post is on my AO3 too. 

I was looking around for more mermaid AU stuffs and I couldn’t find any that I wanted and then I remember I was a writer and that I could write my own! This is inspirited by some headcanons that I don’t remember who did them, the headcanons where reversed where it was mc in the tank, but I wanted to do one where it was the arcana as mermaids. So here you go, I hope you enjoy!

You weren't too sure what to believe when you read that newspaper ad.

'Finally after years of searching, we've found one! Come to Robinson's Aquarium to see the first ever captured Mermaid!' with a picture of a shadowed figure that could of been a Mermaid, but could also have been someone dressed up as one.

You figured it was a load of baloney, put it aside and went on with your day. However, no matter where you went, people where talking about it. On the radio, in the shops, even in your favorite café. You where thoroughly done with hearing about it when you turned your TV on later that night, only for the news channel to be talking about it. You where about ready to turn it off and go to bed when the screen switched to just outside the aquarium in question, where a news reported and a person was seemingly being interviewed about their time inside.

You kept the TV on, because as much as you hated to admit it, after hearing about it so much your interest was piqued. They went on to describe the experience and at the end on it, you left like you where being played. Really, how many people did this Robinson guy pay off just to get some publicity for his aquarium? You turn off the TV and go to bed.

Three months pass, where everyone keeps talking about it and no one posts pictures at all, you think to yourself bitterly. You read an article about that, apparently Robinson is very strict about no pictures, to the point where he hired guards. He claims it's because he wants everyone to have a fresh experience. You call bull on that. The whole situation it very suspicious and after three months of non stop news and people going to see this mermaid and coming out satisfied, you're at your wits end. So with some vague feeling of disgust, you drop your money on a ticket and drive your way there.

You're pretty lucky to live relatively close, it's only an hour and a half drive. The entire time, you're arguing with yourself, part of you wanting to turn around and go back, the other part countering with the money you just spent. After all, you spent the money on it, might as well go, right?

With that thought in mind, you pull into parking spot and walk in. The door jingles like you just wanted into a small café and the receptionist looks up. Their eyes go wide and they immediately stand up, back straight like you're their commanding officer.

"Mr. Robinson has told us about you and we are to let you through and give you this," They walk around their desk, holding out an envelope. You take it out of habit and tear it open pulling out a letter.

'Dear ________,

I have always been a big fan of your research papers, especially your latest one featuring clues on how to find Mermaid homes. Using your knowledge, I was able to find and capture one, so that I could prove to every nay sayer that you where right. As a token of gratitude to you, who helped me locate the Mermaid I have put on display, I have included a V.I.P card, so that you may come and see the product of your research as many times as you'd like.

Sincerely,

Mr. Robinson'

That vague sense of disgust you where feeling before? Yeah, it's full force now.

Yes, you use to be a researcher, leading a team on a hopeful journey to discover Mermaids. You thought it was bogus at the time, but had to go with it anyway because money ruled the world. You weren't expecting it to go anywhere, but then you started to discover unexplained stuff, like scales that where far to big for any fish, or a sharp tooth that didn't match any shark they could find, coral formations that looked almost like a room in a house. You started believing that maybe mermaids were real, just hiding really well.

However, after you submitted your report and it got posted, the government changed office and cut your funding, meaning you had to disband before your research really even got the chance to take off. If that hadn't happened, you might have discovered Mermaid's yourself and you would have put protective measures in place, so that they wouldn't end up in tank at an aquarium like the one that's being held captive right here.

"Mr. Robinson would like to speak with you, but he has requested that you go see the Mermaid first" The receptionist voice almost makes you jump, you had forgotten they where standing there in your short trip down memory lane. You pull the ticket out, giving it to the receptionist. They look hesitant to accept it, having just given you the V.I.P card but you insist. You did spend the money already and this aquarium had a 'no returns' policy. Plus, you weren't about to call down their manger just for this. They take the ticket and direct you to the door into the aquarium.

Inside, there are a few people here, but not too many. It's closing soon, so there are not many people around. Plus, the hype over the mermaid has worn off quite a bit now.

There are signs pointing you in the correct direction and you know you've found it when you see a door being guarded by two people in security uniforms. It seems the stories mentioning Mr. Robinson's caution was correct. The guards take your phone and your bag before letting you in. The room is circular and well lit, with a big circular tank in the middle, fences surrounding it. There are several guards stationed along the wall and you feel like you stepped into a spy movie. There are two other customers here, pressed up as close as they can get with the fences in the way. You walk up to an empty spot, looking into the tank with a sense of hesitance. All of your research, right here in person. Just not in the way you wanted it.

Your eyes scan the tank, looking for the figure and you spot them near the bottom. With a sudden rush of bubbles, the Mermaid  smacks their hands against the glass, near where the other two customers are. The two oohhed and aawwed, looking amazed at the Mermaid's show of speed. You're the only one who seems to notice the act for what it is. Desperation and fear.

The Mermaid has thick curly white hair and beautiful brown skin. Their scales are pink and red, swirling around their hips and down their legs, with alternating white blots. They have scales of the same colors down their forearms and hands, their fingers tipped with claws that might have been sharp before but are dulled now, probably shaved down by the staff here. Their ears are webbed, a blue and purple color swirling much like their scales. The gills on either side of their neck are the same color as their webbed ears, scales spreading out around them and down their neck, over their sides. They had fins along the backside of their tail and on their forearms too. As if that action had taken all of their energy, the Mermaid floats down from the glass toward the bottom of the tank.

You are immediately concerned. Now that the surprise and shock has faded, you can see just how weak the Mermaid looked and you could just see how red and puffy their gills where. Was there something in the tank causing irritation? You look around the tank and notice just how dirty it was, expertly hidden but still there. No wonder the Mermaid looked so sick, they probably were! Was the filter not working?

As you examining the tank with a growing feeling of horror that is probably showing your face, the Mermaid suddenly becomes aware of your presence and sharply turns toward you. Your eyes meet and you find yourself staring into beautiful purple eyes. The black sclera is a little unnerving but their pupil and iris look very similar to that of a human eye, so you can ignore the black sclera as a bit of dust or something.

The Mermaid is glaring in you general direction and while you feel like you deserve it, after all you are the one who wrote the paper that apparently gave Mr. Robinson the information he needed to find and capture this Mermaid, it becomes apparent who their glaring at when a hand lands on you shoulder.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You turn to see a man there, dressed in a three piece suit and looking like a cat that got the canary. You would explain his features, but all you could think about was those posts listing all the white male celebrities images together and his picture would fit right in.

It seemed like he was waiting for you to answer, so you answered the direct question keeping all of your complaints to yourself for now. Plus, how he refereed to the Mermaid as an 'it' rather then 'they' really rubbed you the wrong way.

"Y-Yes, sir." Your voice cracked and you have to clear your throat before you could continue.

He laughs heartily, and slaps your back hard enough to send you flying into the barrier. Hunched over the barrier as you are, your eyes met the Mermaids again. Their not just glaring now, their fins are flared up, their hands clawing into the sand and they're barring their dulled teeth in a show of defiance. Mr. Robinson scoffs, before walking off.

"We have much to discuss, so let's get to it shall we?" He throws over his shoulder. Taking a look around the room, the two customers are gone, probably having been shooed out by the guards when Mr. Robinson walked in and they are all standing at attention in the presence of their employer.

There's a small tap on the glass and you turn to see the Mermaid right there, hand splayed on the glass, the amount of desperation in their eyes breaking your heart. You can't reach the glass and you doubt the Mermaid would be able to hear you through it, so you hope your eyes convey your message:

I'll come back for you.

With that, you turn quickly and follow after Mr. Robinson. It would not do to angry such a wealthy man.

———————————

Mr. Robinson leads you to his office, beautiful ornate doors and impressively clean carpet, and furniture from the Rocco type. This was a man with a lot of money to spend. He takes a seat at his desk and gestures to the chair directly in front.

"Please, have a seat," He waits for you to sit and settle in before continuing, " Someone of your learning and intellect has probably already noticed the sate of the Mermaid's tank, yes?"

"Yes, I have," You wonder how anyone could not notice it, but you digress.

"Good. You see, the Mermaid is very difficult. We have a hard time cleaning it's tank because it is so aggressive toward us. You saw how it had tried to attack the customers."

You nod along as he talks, listening and hoping that none of you're inner feelings are showing. You pretend you're making a speech about your research, needing to keep your face from showing your true feelings and it works well enough. He stops talking, presumably to let his words sink in, but then the silence stretches and you realize he's waiting for you to talk.

"I-is that what you want to discus with me?" You voice comes out surprisingly steady, after rushing to talk to keep the moment from getting awkward. You're not the best at social interactions, especially with people who had enough money to pay for your killing and a lot left over.

"Yes, that's correct. Someone like you, who has done much research on marine animals, plus your brief research on the Mermaids, will be trained enough to be able to deal with it's mood swings and aggression. So, my proposition to you is, come work for me as the caretaker of the Mermaid. This way, you can continue your research, get payed for it and my aquarium has a clean tank for the Mermaid to live in. What do you say?"

As much as you wanted to spit in his face and say 'no', doing so would probably put you on his shit list and take away the V.I.P card you just got, so that was a no go. And besides, you had just promised the Mermaid that you'd be back, even if the promise was more to yourself then to them. And if you worked here, you'd be able to help the Mermaid, like you wanted to and maybe discover a way to break them out of captivity. Okay, so that was your more lofty goal, but you gotta aim high, right? And you'll also get the opportunity to study them, the little researcher in you squealed. Okay, so maybe you where a little selfish, but your main goal was to help the Mermaid.

So with a smile you hoped looked real, you held out your hand and said, "I would be happy to work for you."

Mr. Robinson's lips curled into a smile of his own, looking like a cat that got the canary as he took your hand and shook, saying, "It will be a pleasure working with you."

[marshalls-scribbles]

ok so like id be super down to hearabout your 4 pages worth of hcs???? and also after going through the prompt list i couldnt stop thinking about chansaw 26 possibly set in a sadder version of bored

i might write my headcanons down in a separate post soon, but in the meantime, prepare for angst. you asked for it, so i’m absolved of any guilt for any emotional distress.

26: Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave 

Chansaw

Veronica groaned as she pushed herself out of bed. Still a few hours before she had to leave. Might as well go early, since she didn’t have much time left to sleep. The extra hour wouldn’t be worth the interruption. She carefully walked to the bathroom, doing her best to navigate without her glasses. She made it to the bathroom without incident, somehow managed to put her contacts in without trouble, and grimaced at the amount of hickeys on her neck and shoulders. Heather had come to visit last night, and Veronica hadn’t been strong enough to tell her to leave.

This was getting old. It wasn’t sustainable. She kept getting worried looks from Betty and Martha, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to tell them she was alright and make it believable.

Grumbling to herself, she did her makeup, making sure to cover up the bite marks, and headed downstairs, pouring herself a cup of coffee and leaving. She knew she should be eating. She shouldn’t start skipping meals again. Veronica sighed, rooting through her bag for one of the granola bars she kept for when she couldn’t bring herself to eat more than a few bites of food.

Empty. Fantastic. She sighed and grabbed her bike, sending a quick text to Heather to let her know not to bother picking her up. She needed to clear her head.

The roads were clear enough this time of the morning that she was able to listen to music without worrying about being taken off guard by a car. She managed to somewhat improve her mood by the time she reached the school. If she could have gotten her morning run in, she would have felt even better, but she hadn’t been able to go jogging in a few weeks. She sighed as she parked her bike, fishing the bike lock out of her bag and locking it to the bike rack. She was starting to get restless, her body itching to run, or climb, or anything else to get rid of some of this energy.

On her way inside the school building, she noticed she was scratching at her arm. She grimaced, pulling her hand away from her wrist. She definitely needed to get some of her nervous energy out.

Nodding to herself, she wandered to the locker rooms, retrieving a tank top and a pair of shorts from her locker, as well as a beat up pair of purple and black running shoes, before changing and running out towards the track.

She grinned as she stretched by the shredded rubber of the track lanes, the chill of the wind sending a shiver through her that snapped her awake. She breathed in deeply, the clear air affording her a moment of contentment. This would be the perfect opportunity for her to clear her head.

With a practiced ease, she tied her hair back in a low ponytail, untangled her headphones, and plugged them into her phone, pressing play on her exercise playlist and starting off at a slow jog, gradually picking up speed until she reached a comfortable pace.

She ran until the songs blurred together and she could no longer bring herself to care what the lyrics were. She ran until her legs burned from the exertion and her face was slick with sweat.

She slowed her pace until she was walking at a leisurely pace in lane 8, pausing her playlist and just listening to the sounds of her surroundings until she caught her breath. She soon walked off the track, walking back towards the school to shower and reapply her makeup.

She showered quickly and spent a few minutes redoing her makeup before she deemed herself presentable and emotionally ready to face the day, before finally leaving the locker room and making her way to one of her favorite places.

The band room was full of kids finishing up with early morning marching band practice. Veronica grinned, silently making her way to where Betty sat, cleaning her trombone while Martha sorted through their music.

Veronica waited patiently until they’d both put their equipment away before greeting them. “What’s up?”

Martha turned around, grinning from ear to ear. “Morning, Veronica! What are you doing here so early?”

Veronica shrugged. “Woke up early and figured I’d come here early to get some exercise in. You guys were on the other practice field, right?”

Betty nodded, her own smile more restrained than Martha’s, but no less glad to see Veronica. “Yup. How have you been? We haven’t seen you in a while.”

Veronica frowned. “You uh, remember that thing I had with Courtney?”

“Yeah?” Martha’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What about it?”

“I may  have entered a similar arrangement with someone I actually have feelings for, and it may or may not have been a bad idea,” Veronica admitted.

Betty huffed. “Honestly, if they can’t appreciate you, then none of the Heathers deserve to be with you.”

Veronica chuckled. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I just could stop having feelings for her.”

“That’s how it is sometimes,” Betty shrugged.

Veronica nodded. “I just needed to tell someone, and I know you won’t judge me for being an idiot.”

Betty laughed. “That’s because we expect it at this point.”

Veronica stuck out her tongue at Betty. “Whatever. I’ll talk to you two later. Heather’s gonna want to yell at me for riding my bike here instead of letting her show off how generous she is for picking me up.”

Betty scoffed. “What do you see in her, anyways?”

Veronica sighed wistfully. “Something that might not even be there anymore.”

Veronica groaned as she got off her bike and went inside the house.

Heather hadn’t yelled, strangely enough. Rather, she’d just looked at her with an expression Veronica couldn’t read and told her to do whatever she liked.

Veronica thought she knew how to deal with this. She thought she could be okay with what she had.

A knock sounded from the front door, and Veronica huffed, before opening it to reveal-

“Heather,” Veronica said, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Heather frowned. “What’s up with you lately?”

Veronica shrugged. “Just haven’t been feeling well. It’s nothing.”

Heather scoffed. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Veronica wasn’t honestly expecting her to catch on so quickly.

“Yeah, I was,” she sighed.

“Why?”

Veronica didn’t have time to answer before her dad’s voice piped up behind her.

“Veronica! Feel like helping your dear old dad with the plants?”

Veronica sighed with relief, turning to answer. “I’ll be there in a second!” She turned back to Heather, her expression neutral. “You want to come in?”

Heather frowned, but didn’t refuse. Veronica shrugged, before turning to walk out towards the back yard. Heather followed until they reached the back porch.

The garden took up most of the yard, with plants of nearly every type scattered about. They were all very obviously well cared for, and as Heather watched Veronica pick up a set of work gloves, she realized there was still so much to learn about Veronica.

“Ah, Heather! Good to see you again!” Veronica’s dad beamed.

Heather blinked. “Nice to see you again too, Mr. Sawyer.”

He sent Veronica an amused look, before turning back to the garden.

“We need to get everything ready before winter.”

Veronica nodded, and the two were soon engrossed in making sure the garden would be ready for them to start planting once spring arrived.

Veronica and her dad returned to the kitchen a few hours later, joking and laughing and looking thoroughly exhausted.

Veronica grinned at her mom, who was standing over the stove, cooking. “What’s cooking mom?”

“Spaghetti, your favorite,” She said, smiling at Veronica.

“Is it okay if Heather stays for dinner?”

Veronica’s mom nodded after a moment. “Absolutely! Now, you and your father should go wash up, and then I expect you both to help set the table.”

Veronica nodded and raced up the stairs. All in all, today wasn’t so bad.

Heather sat awkwardly at the dinner table, making polite, if awkward, conversation with Veronica’s dad.

“I have to say,” Mrs. Sawyer said, “It’s good to see you girls are talking again. When Veronica told us the two of you had had a falling out, we were worried she might not bounce back.”

“What do you mean?” Heather asked.

“Well, the two of you were just about inseparable until third grade,” Mr. Sawyer said, “You were the only  person she’d talk to. She’s always been such an anxious girl. She only used sign language for a long time.”

Mrs. Sawyer laughed. “I remember the two of you would spend hours just learning how to sign with each other. You’re probably the best friend she ever had.”

Veronica had gone silent. She stared down at her food, not touching it despite being almost ravenous just a minute ago.

“I… hadn’t realized we used to be friends,” Heather admitted. “I thought we’d only just met this year.”

Mrs. Sawyer frowned. “That’s odd. You used to spend so much time here, one might think we had two kids instead of one.”

Heather looked over at Veronica, whose gaze hadn’t lifted.

“May I be excused?” Veronica asked. “I’m not feeling too well.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Sawyer said, “Go on up to your room and rest. We’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Thanks,” Veronica said, pushing her chair in and retreating to the kitchen.

Veronica was expecting her parents to just send Heather off with an extra serving of food and that would be the end of it.

She was surprised to instead see Heather Chandler bursting into her room a few minutes later.

“You never told me we used to be friends.”

Veronica shrugged. “You never asked. I figured it was best forgotten.”

Heather frowned. “What’s going on with you? First you’re avoiding me, then this? What’s going on, Ronnie?”

“Don’t,” Veronica growled. “Do not call me that.”

Scary as Veronica’s anger was, Heather didn’t back down. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Veronica groaned. “I can’t do this anymore! When you said you just wanted a casual relationship like what I had with Courtney, I thought I could handle it! I thought it could be enough! But I’m still too in love with you to so much as look at you without it hurting!”

Heather’s eyes widened. “You-”

“And it’s awful because I want so much more than to just be your casual makeout buddy! I want to take you on dates, and hold your hand, and all that mushy, stupid crap! But more than any of that, I want my friend back, but it’s like the Heather Chandler I fell in love with doesn’t even exist!” Veronica sighed, pressing her hands to her face. “Just go.” Her tone was weak, defeated, yet it allowed no room for argument.

Heather reached out, her hand holding tight to the arm of Veronica’s sweatshirt. “I-”

“Go!” Veronica shouted. “Forget I said anything! Forget me too, while you’re at it! You’re good at that.”

“I love you,” Heather whispered pleadingly.

Veronica stiffened. “It’s too little too late, Heather. Just leave.”

Heather stared for a moment, before sighing and walking out of Veronica’s bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

Veronica collapsed back into her desk chair and let out a heavy sigh. She’d finally done it. She broke off her arrangement with Heather.

Somehow, it didn’t feel as freeing as she’d expected.

[wordsaremybestfriends]

Didn’t Ask For This: Chapter 2

Hey friends! Here’s a chapter as long as my current list of responsibilities that I am always avoiding. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing, child abuse, vocal abuse, violence, *TELL ME IF YOU FIND ANYTHING ELSE*

**something went wonky when i copied and pasted it here, so i apologize in advance for any errors!

The sound of a key scratching it’s way into the lock instantly perked Dustin up. His sister’s mostly exhausted form slumped through the front door, her characteristic purple and gray cardigan slightly falling off her shoulders, and her bag dragging behind her. The jeans she was wearing were smeared with ink and her brunette curls were mostly falling out of her bun atop her head. With a tired sigh, she noticed Dustin sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for her return home. A groan escaped her lips as she shuffled inside, locking the door behind her. “Dusty, it’s midnight. You should be in bed, you’ve got school tomorrow.” 

“I know, I know, but Em, I found something while I was out trick-or-treating-”

“How was that?” She asked, a smile on her face. She let her exhausted body slip onto the couch beside him, tossing her feet onto his lap. “Did you get a lot of three musketeers?”

He shook his head, the curls bouncing atop his head. “Yes, but that’s besides the point! I found something in the trash, and I don’t know what it is, and I want you to help me!” 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Dustin, I just spent six hours in a silent library reading about the left and right brain. My fingers are covered with glue from trying to repair old books, and I think my head might explode in the next five minutes if I don’t take a shower and sleep. Can’t it wait till the morning?”

“You are not going to want to wait until morning,” Her younger brother said, tossing her feet away to stand off the couch. “Please Emma, it’ll only take five minutes!”

Her brown eyes locked on her brother’s, and instead of the typical toothless smile he had mostly grown up with, his eyes were sad and lip jutted out. The pure pitiful look of him was enough to make Emma’s heart fall. He was her weakness, and he knew it.

“Well…” She murmured. “Let me shower first, okay? I smell like Mrs. White’s old perfume.”

“Perfect!” The boy almost shouted as he ran into his room, slamming the door shut. It was a miracle their mother hadn’t woken up yet, but Emma could do without her mother’s prying questions tonight. 

Only twenty minutes had passed before Emma emerged from the bathroom, hair clean and skin moisturized. She wore an oversized shirt from a thrift store run a few months ago, with a pair of long pajama pants. With her rambunctious brunette waves tied in a bun atop her head, she knocked on Dustin’s door quietly. 

As soon as the door opened, her younger brother started spouting out words like ‘amphibian’ and ‘reptilian’, latching his mostly sweaty hand onto his older sister’s arm, pulling her through the doorway, and straight into his bedroom, where his terrarium was empty, the turtle he had taken care of missing. Instead, a small, slug-like creature was in it’s place, hiding underneath a small overhang of fake rock. An empty three musketeers was a few inches in front of him, void of any crumbs. 

It didn’t look normal, with it’s odd, closed-flower like face and slippery body. There were no eyes on it’s body, and though it was only a few inches big, it seemed to be ferociously upset by Emma’s presence. 

“Where the hell did you find this??” She asked, pressing her face to the glass, the slug-like creature hissing and growling at her. “It looks insanely different than anything in Hawkins, or North America-” “Or Africa, or Europe!” Dustin exclaimed, pulling out an old book on different reptiles that he had stolen from Emma’s bookshelf. “I’ve already looked up a dozen different kinds of species, and Dart doesn’t match any of them.”

“You named him Dart?” Emma deadpanned, studying the hissing creature silently. “I feel like he looks more like a Jeffrey, to be honest.”

Dustin frowned, rolling his eyes. “When you find a new species, you can name them whatever you want.” 

He approached the glass, catching the small creature’s attention. It instantly calmed, and cooed quietly. The heat lamp had been turned off and shrouded the entire glass tank in darkness. Gently, Dustin reached in to grab him. Emma’s hand shot out, stopping him instead, a frightened look in her eyes. “Dusty, we don’t know what this even is! We shouldn’t be touching it, let alone trying to keep it in this tank!”

“It’s fine,” Her brother replied, reaching in the last few inches and gently picking up the slug, still cooing quietly. “He likes me, cause I rescued him. And he likes nougat, so that’s cool.”

Without the glass barrier, Emma looked at the creature, it’s slimy skin reminiscent of a certain being that she hadn’t seen in about a year. The curiously flower-like head of the slug was opened slightly, and a fear started to grow in the pit of her stomach as she noticed the similarities of the gray, green and brown being.

“You know, it kinda looks like a demogorgon…” She murmured, staring a bit closer at the slug that was relaxing easily in her brother’s palm. “I mean, a baby one, but still.”

“There are no more demogorgons, Em,” He said with a roll of his eyes. “El took them back to the upside down when she left us.” 

“I don’t know!” She shrugged, straightening her back. “It doesn’t look like a regular animal from here, it looks… different.”

The two fell into a shared silence, watching the slug breathe slowly, until Dustin slowly pushed it off his hand and back into the tank, and replaced the lid. Emma watched him warily as he washed his hands, and started to put away some of the books he borrowed, until a thought came to her mind. 

“We never really know what’s going on in that lab anymore,” Emma mumbled as she gazed at the slug. “I mean, if they’re trying to go back in there…” 

The siblings shared a look of unease as the October winds blew outside, sounding more like a howl than a scream now. The story that had started last year might have ended back then, but both knew that there was a deeper idea, a stronger plan in the works, and the sheer thought of it starting over again brought a new gloom upon their small town. And not just a frightening one this time. It was an evil one. 

The silent alarm Emma woke to the next morning was somehow the start to one of the worst four hours past her usual morning, bringing her awake to the bright red number of 10:45.

“Shit, shit, shit!!!” She screeched through the empty house, as she jolted herself out of bed, murmuring quickly to herself. 

Thanks to her exhaustion last night from the library and Dustin’s new pet, her fingers had accidentally forgot to press the button that would set off her alarm. She had slept straight through two class, and about half of third period. If she hurried, she might just make it by the tail end of class, able to disappear into the fray of students trying to make it to class on time. With her scooter, she’d be able to make it to school quick enough and head straight to the office, if she didn’t get pulled over by Hopper because she was trying to rival the speed of light instead of following the speed limit.

Her hair was wildly untamed, half in a bun on the top of her head and half falling out against her neck. She wore a grey top and a pair of tight jeans, throwing on a cardigan and jacket over the top before rushing to the kitchen to grab the lunch her mother had made, and straight out the door. 

Thankfully, the janitors were cleaning up the glass at the front entrance, and she could easily bolt through the doors like a bullet, headed straight for her locker. She had already missed calculus and government and politics as well as trigonometry. If she hurried, she could make it to English only a little bit late, even though Mr. Murphy loved her work no matter what. 

“Lady Macbeth makes everything go wrong,” She murmured to herself as she jogged through the halls, her locker close. “Then Lord Macbeth went to go duel the guy and he lost, so they lost everything, and basically it’s…”

Her words trailed off as she found Steve Harrington, the king of the school and head of the popular crowd, pushing his newest flavor of the week against her locker, a blonde girl a few inches taller than Emma, with a shirt barely long enough to cover her ass, and enough Lip-Smackers stuck in her pocket to qualify as a shareholder. It was Natalie Green, a sophomore who had gone starry eyed for Steve since the first day of school. She’d heard through the grapevine that the two were hooking up, though it didn’t matter much to her. Their utterly revolting snogging was an even worse beginning to her day. His hands were God knows where, and another pair were on his ass, fingers delicately slipping through the jean waistband.

 She wanted to vomit. 

“Hey!” She yelled, and suddenly, the two figures darted away from each other. 

Of course, except for the fact that Steve’s hand had still been stuck up the girl’s shirt, gripping her overly padded bra with eyes wide in embarrassment. 

“Fuck,” Steve said, pulling his hand out of the powder pink shirt and wiping it against his own jeans. His cheeks were bright pink, and lips swollen, but Emma wasn’t sure if it was from the kissing or the strawberry-flavored lip gloss that was all over their faces. Natalie wasn’t much better, pale face holding at least six different shades of scarlet as she tried to quell her breathing. 

“You couldn’t have gone to the library?” Emma asked aloud as she went to open her locker, shaking her head. “Or like, wait 45 minutes until class let out and you wouldn’t have to skip to see each other?” 

“Well,” The high pitched squeak of Natalie replied. Without turning her head, she knew that she was wearing a smug lip on her face, ‘fuck me’ eyes still wide and trained on Steve. “When you have a guy like Steve, you better make the most of your time. Right, sweetheart?” Steve waved her off. His voice was bored as he replied. “She’s right. You should get back to Chemistry.” “It’s Home Ec,” She amended, shrugging her shoulders. “But I’ll let that slide until lunchtime, baby.” She blew him a sticky, sloppy kiss from her hand before hopping off down the hallway, and out of sight as Emma rummaged through her locker, looking for her copy of Macbeth. 

“God, I can not thank you enough, Henderson,” Steve murmured, picking his shirt up to wipe away the lip gloss smears and spit across his face. His foul face tried to hastily swipe his face clean, then going to arrange the rest of his outfit. “I wasn’t sure if I could make it another five minutes with her on me.” 

“But you wanted to date her,” Emma pointed out in a monotone voice. 

His brown eyes were narrowed as he hastily sputtered out his words. “But, I just, I didn’t know she was so, so-”

“Clingy?” Emma suggested as she tossed her lunch inside the locker. “Attached? Bonded?” 

“When you say it like that,” Steve began, a sheepish grin beginning to grow on his face. “It kinda makes me sound like a bad person.” 

For a mere second, the girl pulled her head out of her locker to stare back at him, eyebrow raised. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say, idiot.” 

Steve pinned his eyebrows down, crossing his arms as he leaned against the lockers, glaring right at Emma with a sour expression on his face. “I’m not a bad person, Henderson. I went out on a date with her, right?”

She tried not to laugh as she shook her head in her locker. It was rich to think that the ‘king of the school’ didn’t realize how much of a complete dick he had grown to become. If you were breathing, had boobs, decent looks, and you attended any school in Hawkins, Steve Harrington was sure to pass through your radar at one point. He was the biggest womanizer in school, known for going on one or two dates with a girl before calling it quits. There was never a real period of time that she knew he was single, and since his longest relationship only lasted about a week and a half, it was safe to say he was known quite well by many girls in Hawkins. It was somewhat disturbing how many girls came to Emma to vent about the boy, as if they wanted her to do something about it. It was even more disturbing to think of the boy that they always complained about was trying to have a real conversation with her about girls and the ‘woes of dating a bad kisser’. 

“I would bet ten dollars you didn’t plan for that relationship to go anywhere else than where it did after the first date,” She smirked. “You’ve got a serious track record to not notice that.”

Emma slammed her locker shut, and began walking down the hall, Steve hot on her trail. “You’re kidding me, right? I’ve never led a girl to think I actually wanted a relationship with her!”

The teenaged girl slowed her sneakers, pausing in her walk to turn back and almost laugh at the pathetic popular boy behind her. “Really?” 

“Really!” Steve exclaimed, shaking his head. He looked like a mother, arms crossed and an skeptical look on his face. “I have never done that!” 

“Harrington, you do that with every girl you’ve ever gotten to fall under your spell,” Emma said slowly, making sure that the boy understood every word he said. “Almost every single girl you’ve dated has found me, three days after you tell her that you’re ‘not looking to get tied down’ in tears because they thought that just maybe, this time they could be the one for the magnificent, magical Steve Harrington.”

His face was stony, eyes still connected with Emma. He was more of a statue in the middle of the hallway than a teenage boy, being told that the legacy he’s led throughout his entire high school career was really tormenting the young girls around him with his dating habits. Words were trying to find their way to his mouth as the girl sighed and began to walk farther down the hall towards Calculus. She was tired of entertaining Steve and trying to make him see his mistakes when he was supposed to be in whatever class he had.

 She didn’t look back as she left the boy, deep in thought, and turned her attention to her academics instead of the perils of a socially blinded popular boy.

TAG LIST: @lillie-writes @luv2reade16 @kararanae23

[cheemers-writing-archive]

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 17

Kakyoin dragged his feet along the pavement, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. He kept thinking if he took a walk, then Lily would appear back in their hotel room, asking why he had such a long face. Even after the girl in the ghost alley (Reimi, wasn’t it?) confirmed that she saw his wife ascend up with the same wound that she was cursed with, he couldn’t believe it. I told her I had a bad feeling didn’t I? he thought. I begged her to stay home. She promised me she’d come back alive.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Koichi just across the street from him, who couldn’t help but look on with a twinge of pity.

“Mr. Kakyoin,” Koichi said as he crossed the street. “What are you doing? I haven’t seen you for days.”

Kakyoin looked beside him, then sighed. “I guess a part of me is still holding on to the hope that Lily is somehow alive.”

Koichi nodded. “I miss her, too,” he replied, but quickly added, “O-of course, I don’t miss her as much as you, but she still m-meant something to me.”

“I know what you meant,” Kakyoin answered, almost deadpan.

Geez, Koichi thought, losing a loved one really sucks the life out of you.

“You know, the Speedwagon Foundation shouldn’t be forcing you to work after you just lost your wife,” Koichi stated, in attempts to strike a conversation again. Maybe he was being too pushy, though.

“I’m not working,” Kakyoin told him, still emotionless. “They gave me some time off. I’m just walking around town.”

“Oh,” Koichi mumbled. “Sorry.” He started to walk away, until he saw a familiar face walking up the same way him and Kakyoin were.

“Mr. Jotaro!”

Kakyoin turned his head to face his old friend, who looked straight into his eyes with that infamous expression that couldn’t be deciphered.

“I think I’m getting close to finding the man who killed Lily,” Jotaro told him. “It was mere coincidence that I was traveling this way, but I thought you might want to join me.”

Koichi could practically feel the air around him change as Jotaro mentioned Lily. Kakyoin’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes had a strange spark in them, and his teeth clenched together.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

Jotaro nodded, then continued down the path. Both Kakyoin and Koichi followed suit.

“How do you know you’re close?” Kakyoin asked Jotaro.

“Well, for one, I’ve checked every other clothing repair shop, and this is the last one, so if it’s not here, then there’s not much we can do. But I guarantee our killer will want his jacket button fixed,” Jotaro answered.

Kakyoin accepted that answer, and continued walking in silence. His frown was hiding his gritted teeth, and his pockets were hiding his clenched fists, so tight he could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands.

Breaking the news to Kakyoin wasn’t easy. In fact, Jotaro found it was almost as hard as facing Dio. Three days later, and the scene still played through his head:

He stared at the door, taking deep breaths. Although he volunteered to tell Kakyoin to spare the others, who were still just kids, from having to deal with his close friend’s heartbreak, it didn’t make it any easier on him.

The heavy knock was sure to alert Kakyoin. Hopefully, Emily was asleep. Jotaro could handle telling the man by a small thread, but that man’s two-year-old he absolutely could not.

“Jotaro?” Kakyoin said as the door opened. “This is a surprise. What’s so important you stopped by midday to tell me?”

No, he couldn’t do this. Kakyoin didn’t deserve the crushing weight of death on his shoulders.

But he also deserved to know.

“It’s about Lily,” Jotaro started. Kakyoin gasped.

“Is she hurt?” he asked. “In the hospital? Will she be okay?”

“She… she won’t be okay,” Jotaro tilted his hat down, although it didn’t stop a tear from running down his cheek. “She died.”

It was almost like Jotaro could feel Kakyoin’s heart shatter with that gasp. Looking above the brim of his hat, he could see his best friend trying to remain calm in front of him.

“Lily… she… she can’t be dead!” Kakyoin protested. “Ace of Pentacles can save her!”

“It was sudden,” Jotaro explained. “The enemy killed her instantly. It happened so fast we didn’t have time to see her die.”

Maybe the last parts were a little bit of overkill. He could see it in Kakyoin’s bloodshot eyes as his breathing became short and staggered.

“I’m sorry,” Jotaro murmured. “There was nothing any of us could have done.”

Kakyoin would never forget Jotaro’s sudden somberness, signifying something was wrong the moment their eyes locked. Even now, there was no body to prove Lily was dead, and although he trusted Jotaro’s words with his life, there was nothing to prove that Lily couldn’t come back, limping if she had to, into his arms again. Until then, he would make sure her killer would pay, and pay dearly.

“This is the place,” Jotaro announced. “The only place that repairs jackets that I haven’t checked yet.”

Before Jotaro could lay a hand on the doorknob, Kakyoin ran up and took his place, making sure he was first to enter the store.

“Ah, new customers!” the store owner said as his head perked up from the chime of the bell. “Welcome!”

“We need you to locate the jacket this button fell off of,” Kakyoin ordered. He slammed the button on the desk, and Jotaro gasped. When did Kakyoin take the button from his pocket?

“Well, this is a peculiar request,” the owner mumbled to himself.

“It’s urgent,” Kakyoin added.

As the owner observed the button, he quietly hummed. “It does look similar to the buttons on this jacket,” he replied as he pointed over to a light purple suit.

Bingo! “What’s the name of the one who brought it in?”

“He might not remember that, Kakyoin,” Jotaro said.

“Are you saying I don’t remember my customer’s names?” the store owner remarked. “I remember the name of everyone who’s ever come here!”

“Then what’s his name?” Kakyoin asked.

“It’s…” the owner paused. “His name is… don’t think I don’t remember that man’s name,” he said. “It’s just easier to check.” He walked over to the jacket, reading the name. “Ah, yes. His name is…”

Before he finished, a small, teal tank with a skull on the front crawled up on his shoulder.

“Look over here,” it said.

To no one’s surprise, the owner didn’t hear it. Non-Stand users can’t hear Stands. However, he did feel the tank rolling on his shoulder. His head turned, and the tank jumped into his mouth.

Behind the door, Kira smiled to himself. Hopefully, everything would go as planned.

“This wasn’t anything like the way Lily died, was it?” Kakyoin asked.

“Not a chance,” Jotaro answered. “When we looked back, there was nothing.”

“Mr. Jotaro, Mr. Kakyoin, look!” Koichi exclaimed. While the two men were talking, a hand from behind the door was pulling on the jacket of their killer.

“That must be him,” Kakyoin muttered. His teeth gritted harder than ever. However, unlike Koichi, who ran towards the man behind the door before Jotaro stopped him, Kakyoin knew that this was most likely a trap.

Kira hmphed to himself. Looks like he’ll need a little extra boost to run over Sheer Heart Attack, he thought to himself. Sighing, he dug through his pocket, then tossed the hand in there to the floor, just enough to be seen, but close enough that he could bend down to get it.

That did it. Kakyoin’s fury reached its limit. As soon as he laid eyes on Lily’s severed hand, nothing else mattered. His entire train of thought was clouded with one thought: The murderer had Lily’s hand.

“Kakyoin, it’s a trap!” Jotaro shouted.

“I don’t care if it’s a trap!” Kakyoin snapped. “He’ll pay in Hell for what he’s done!”

Before Jotaro could stop him, Kakyoin started running. Behind the door, Kira smirked. And now, I’ve got you where I want you, he thought to himself.

As Kakyoin ran over the strange, tank-looking thing, it suddenly exploded, right underneath him. The explosion practically blew his legs off, shattered his eardrums, and made him dive headfirst into the wall. When Jotaro and Koichi looked back, he was limply laying on the floor.

“M-Mr. Kakyoin?” Koichi asked. “Mr. Kakyoin! Wake up!”

“We don’t have time to focus on him, Koichi,” Jotaro said.

“He’s your friend!” Koichi exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t you help your friend?”

“He is my friend, but the enemy isn’t attacking him right now!” Jotaro replied. “Right now, that Stand is attacking you!”

***

Kakyoin awoke in a meadow, laying on the grass. Why he was here, only God knew. He slowly rose up to stand, careful not to squash any of the beautiful flowers around him. The birds all across the sky seemed to be flying one way, not in fear of anything, but in admiration of what was ahead. Curious, Kakyoin followed, sensing a presence of something calming as he approached. He saw the glowing aura before he saw the actual presence, but he knew instantly who it was. Standing on the top of a hill, with wings of an angel, was the comforting face of his wife.

“Lily?” Kakyoin asked. The wings fluttered a bit as the angel turned around.

“Noriaki?” Lily asked back. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same question,” Kakyoin replied, his mouth forming into a smile.

“This is the gate to Heaven,” Lily answered. “And I’m here to cast judgement on those who’ve died that have been close to me.”

It took a while, but when Kakyoin connected the dots with Lily’s words, he gasped. “I’m dead?”

“It seems to be that way,” Lily nodded. “So, since I’m the closest one to you, I’m here to pass judgement to see if you reach Heaven or Hell.”

Kakyoin nodded in acknowledgement. For some reason, he was very calm at the moment, despite the fact that this judgement would decide his eternal resting place. That, and he had to leave everyone on earth behind, no matter what, including his daughter.

“Now then,” Lily lifted up a piece of paper to her eyes. “Well, what do you know? There’s only one question! Did you give the ones closest to you all love you could?”

Kakyoin almost scoffed at this question, but decided that wouldn’t be very helpful in his judgement. “Yes, of course!” he answered, confidently and honestly.

“You gave Emily all the love you could?”

“Especially her.”

“You gave me all the love you could?”

“I gave you the most out of anyone else!” Kakyoin almost started to cry, from Lily’s disbelief in him or the fact that her face was tangible again, he wasn’t sure.

“Then why didn’t you save me?”

Kakyoin froze. Why didn’t he save her? There was nothing he could do! At least, that’s what he was told by everyone. His inner thoughts said otherwise, but he blocked those out as best as he could.

“Why didn’t you save me, Kakyoin?”

The ground underneath started to rumble. “Why did you call me by my last name?” Kakyoin asked.

“Because you’re so covered in sin I don’t even want to be associated with you. Why am I here, dead, when I had a child to take care of, and more Speedwagon Foundation cases to solve, when you could have saved my life by forcing me not to go out that day and stay with Emily?”

“I didn’t want you to think that I wanted to rule this family with an iron fist!” Kakyoin protested as a crack formed underneath his feet. “It’s not fair to you to force you to do anything!”

“It was a test!” Lily’s voice suddenly became harsh and angry. “If you had really loved me enough, you would have forced me to stay inside and not walk into my impending doom!”

“Lily, please!” Kakyoin cried. He was holding on to the edge of the grass with his fingers on just his left hand. “Just give me a second chance, and I’ll prove I can change it with Emily!”

Lily walked up to her struggling husband, giving him a glare he’d only seen her give to Dio.

“Enjoy your stay in Hell, Kakyoin.”

Lily stomped on Kakyoin’s fingers, forcing him to let go of the ground and fall into the fiery abyss below. The whole way down, she offered not even the slightest ounce of remorse for him.

And, as he was falling down, Kakyoin suddenly jerked up from bed, breathing quickly. He was back in bed, in a dark room. His room. Not the hotel bedroom in Morioh, but the room in his and Lily’s house. Was Morioh all just a dream?

“Bad dream, Noriaki?” Lily asked groggily. It took everything in Kakyoin not to hold her tightly in his arms, tight enough that it was sure to suffocate her.

“I’ll say,” he answered instead. “It was extremely vivid, and it featured another Joestar, an illegitimate child of Joseph. I’ll tell you all the details later, but the important part is that you had died.”

“That does sound like a bad dream,” Lily got up from her pillow, turning to the man beside her.

Something was terribly wrong.

Lily’s corpse was talking to Kakyoin, with dry, sickly grey skin. She didn’t have any eyes or teeth, leaving a void where the missing parts were. She lifted up her hand, her bony, skinny hand, and placed it on Kakyoin’s shoulder. It was ice cold. “It’s a good thing that none of it is real, right?”

The sight was too scary to look away from. Kakyoin was frozen, unable to scream or even breathe.

“What’s wrong, Noriaki?” Lily’s corpse asked. “It’s me. I’m here.” The jaw fell off of her face and onto the floor.

Suddenly, a scream came from Emily’s room. A scream that she never used unless she was in severe pain, like the time she fell off her bike while it was speeding down a hill. The worry for his daughter overtook Kakyoin’s terror at the sight of his wife as he ran to her room to see what was the matter. As soon as he burst open the door, he saw a familiar figure in the corner of the room, standing over Emily as blood poured out of her skull.

“Too late,” Dio chuckled.

Before Kakyoin could scream, Emily slowly rose from the ground. Her teeth were like icicles, her now glowing red eyes piercing through her father’s gaze.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whined, although this whine was off. It didn’t sound petty, it sounded sinister. “Can you get me a snack?”

The moment Kakyoin moved his legs to run, Emily leaped at him, knocking him to the ground. Her little fingernails sunk into his skin, and he could feel his blood being sucked away.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Emily smiled, her fangs offering no comfort. “Now you can be just like Mommy!”

He wanted to fight back. Kakyoin wanted to throw this little demon taking his blood onto the wall, and kick it until it didn’t move any more. But it was really hard to do that when the demon held his daughter’s face. As he struggled for his last glimpse at the scene around him, the fuzzy shapes that somewhat resembled the ones he knew, he noticed another light forming. It grew, slowly, until his eyes were completely open again.

He was back at that shoe shop, lying face up, looking at the ceiling.

Kakyoin rose from his unconscious position, sitting upright. He didn’t remember exactly what happened before passing out, because it all happened so quickly. One moment, he was seeing red, screaming in rage, running after the man who killed Lily, and the next, he was flying towards a wall, headfirst, upside down.

Taking a look at his surroundings, it was clear that an explosion had happened here. Multiple explosions, actually. And judging from the charred wood coming from the back hallway, an even bigger explosion happened back there. Was it an explosion that sent Kakyoin into the wall?

So maybe it was that tank that made Lily practically disappear, he thought to himself. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t move an inch. Looking down at them, they were still somewhat intact, but the knees had been blown clean off. No big deal, of course, Hierophant could act as his legs. However, one look at the Stand, and its legs were unusable, too.

Kakyoin could hear some muffled talking coming from outside. Surely that was their Stand user. Listening closer, he could hear the voice of Koichi, too. He had to get out there and help, or he’d never forgive himself. If worse came to worst, he could always drag himself with his hands.

However, it wouldn’t have to come to that, because Kakyoin thought of something. Hierophant Green was able to unfold into nothing but strings. Could those strings rope together and act as a brace? It was worth a try. Kakyoin decided to use the strength of his arms, which were the least damaged parts of him. He lifted himself to his feet, and although he could really feel the burn in his arms, it worked. Slowly but surely, Kakyoin worked his way to the back door, grabbing onto the walls when he could. When he finally reached the door, he heard Koichi again, but this time, he could hear the words.

“Your name… is Yoshikage Kira…” he said as he winced in pain.

“H-how did you figure that out?” the other man, most likely the killer, exclaimed.

His name is Yoshikage Kira, Kakyoin thought to himself. He listened to the rest of their conversation, but it was barely important. All that mattered was Koichi was losing, and he would need backup fast. Jotaro was already out, so it would be up to Kakyoin. Slowly and quietly, he opened the door.

“All I need to do now is turn Koichi’s student badge into a bomb with Killer Queen, and he’ll be out of my skin,” Kira said to himself. He summoned his Stand, a catlike creature, and it started to place its finger near Koichi. If he was going to intervene, Kakyoin would have to do it now. There was no time to think about how this man seemingly had two Stands.

“You did well, Koichi,” Kakyoin muttered. “You won against Kira mentally.”

Kira gasped. He had Killer Queen deflect Hierophant’s emeralds before he was hit by them.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Kira chuckled. “I thought you would have died from the explosion.”

“It’ll take more than an explosion to kill me,” Kakyoin replied. He gave Kira a sideways glance.

“So you’ve decided to fight me, in your pathetic state,” Kira observed. “Are you doing it just to stall for time so Koichi doesn’t die? Perhaps it’s because you want to be a hero, even to your death. Or maybe you’re still holding on to the hope that your wife is still alive?”

Kakyoin wasn’t expecting that question. He froze.

“Lots of people do,” Kira continued. “I’ve seen some of the families of my victims beg the police to keep searching, saying that there’s no body to prove that they’re dead. And for Lily, she can make a copy of herself before she dies, so she has to be alive somewhere, right?”

Despite knowing that Kira had seen this same situation before, Kakyoin was still surprised that he knew his exact thoughts.

“Let me tell you something,” Kira said. “Lily is dead! I saw her body explode right before my eyes. You’ll never see her again.” He knew that the one thing keeping Kakyoin in the fight was hope. If he could eliminate it completely, then he would be a much easier opponent to face. And he was right. He could see the little flame of hope fade from Kakyoin’s eyes as he fought tears back to keep his composure.

“So, she’s really gone…” he muttered.

Kira nodded, smiling lightly.

“Well, then,” Kakyoin continued. A couple of Hierophant’s strings shot towards Kira and gripped his neck as tight as possible. Kakyoin looked up, and a new spark was in his eyes. “It’s all the easier for me to finish you off!”

Kira squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst. However, when it took a while for him to stop breathing, he slowly opened them. Sure enough, Hierophant Green was wrapped around his throat, but it was so wimpy he couldn’t feel a thing. It must have taken a lot of energy just for Kakyoin to stand up, and it showed through Hierophant.

“Your Stand is weak,” Kira smirked. “It barely has a hold on me.” He summoned Killer Queen, and chopped Hierophant’s strings. There was a snap, and Kakyoin’s right leg bent where it shouldn’t have, forcing him to kneel to the ground while an agonizing scream left his lungs.

“I’d love to chat more, but I don’t have time,” Kira continued. “Josuke will be here any minute now, and I have to get away before that. Unfortunately, this is where your story ends.”

“I wouldn’t move from that spot, if I were you,” Kakyoin warned, gritting his teeth as he sat down, careful to keep his broken leg away from as much pain as possible. The place where the bone snapped was poking out of his skin.

Kira chuckled a little, but it soon turned into a full on laugh. “Are you trying to intimidate me?” he asked. “You, sitting down with a snapped bone in your leg, knees shattered, having to use your Stand as a brace, trying to do something against me?” As he talked, he walked forward. “What could you possibly-”

Kira was cut off by a dozen emeralds shooting forward at him. He backed away in time, but then a dozen more shot at him from behind. Killer Queen blocked them, but he backed up again, having more shoot out from some unknown source. No matter where he stepped, emeralds kept attacking him. Soon, however, Kira had figured it out. While he was busy laughing to himself at the man’s desperate attempts to choke him to death, Hierophant Green was making itself like a tripwire around the whole place.

“You’re trapped,” Kakyoin smiled weakly. “Like you said before, Josuke will be here any minute. If I just stay awake long enough, you’ll be found out. But that isn’t enough to compensate for what you did to Lily.”

Kira gulped.

“An old tactic I used on another enemy of mine, ten years ago,” Kakyoin continued. “Take this, Yoshikage Kira! 20 meter radius Emerald Splash!”

Kira was bombarded with hundreds of those shiny green gems, some barely scraping his skin, others making a small hole straight through his body. By the time Kakyoin was done, Kira was completely out, laying on the floor.

“Koichi,” Kakyoin heaved, “if it weren’t for you, none of this would have been possible. Thank you. You’ve grown over these few weeks, and I can tell. This may be the last time I can talk to you, so farewell.”

And so, as his vision blurred, Kakyoin allowed himself to faint.

[narutofoxlover]

A Fishy Dilemma: A MerJack AU CH. 4

                        Jack stared at Sara and burst out laughing as she got up off of the couch in the morning. “What’s so funny?” She asked, giving him a glare. She was not a morning person. “Y-your hair looks like Danny’s!” He said between fits of laughter. Sara deadpanned. “Yeah, yeah my hair gets very floofy. You should see how bad it gets when I let air dry after taking a shower. My curls defy gravity like a boss,” She said, smiling towards the end. “You and Mark should have a floof off!” Jack said. Sara laughed. “Mark would lose. I don’t even have to touch my hair for it to go crazy,” She said. She went back to the guest bedroom and got dressed, putting on a gray shirt with a purple and blue peacock feather design and purple shorts. The blue and purple on her shirt matched the blue and purple in her hair. She tamed her wild hair thoroughly with a brush before coming back out.

Some time later

                           "Mark I’m really not sure we should do this. What if you accidentally get Jack on camera?“ Sara said nervously as Mark messed with the settings on his video camera. “You worry too much. I won’t get him on camera. And if I somehow do I can just edit it out.It’ll be fine!” Mark reassured her. “*sigh* Alright  fine, but if he shows up on video you and me both are in big trouble,” She said. “Relax. What’s the worst that could happen?” He said before turning the camera on. “Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier! I’m in Ireland! After hearing about Jack being sick I decided to fly to Ireland and try and help him get better. He’s still too sick to be on camera but I got someone else to introduce you today. Apparently someone beat me to the punch at taking care of Jack. Say hello to Sara everybody!” He said, turning the camera to face Sara. Sara gave a peace sign. “Sup guys,” She said, smiling. Mark turned the camera to face himself again. “Now Jack tells me her hair gets really floofy and has suggested we do a floof off! So that’s what we’re gonna do in this video!” He said.

                          Sara ended up winning the floof off. Unfortunately Mark failed to notice something really important when editing the video. When he had turned the camera to face Sara a very small glimpse of Jack’s tank and a bit of his tail could be seen for a split second. A few of his subscribers saw it and he quickly had to explain it away as just some cool props for a skit he was thinking of doing and temporarily took the video down to edit it out. Fortunately the people who saw believed him. All except one. “Dr. Bunsen? We have a problem.”

The next Day

                      Mark and Jack were playing Mario Cart while Sara was making them some lunch. “Hey Mark! What kind of cheese do you want on your burger?” She called from the kitchen. “Cheddar!” Mark called back. “Oooh same for me please!” Jack said. Everyone froze when someone started pounding on the front door. Sara hurried to see who it was when the door burst open. Dr. Bunsen along with what looked like a couple of security guards from AGRO barged in. Bunsen set cold, hard eyes on Sara. He snapped his fingers and two guards grabbed Sara, the other two grabbing Mark. “I told you not to let anyone find out Miss Hoover. Now you have to deal with the consequences,” He said before strolling over to Mark. “To make sure you don’t make this mistake again we are giving you a little incentive,” Bunsen said to Sara before pulling a syringe out of the pocket of his lab coat. The syringe contained what looked like the serum that had gotten into Jack, but this liquid had some bright pink mixed in. Mark struggled against the guards but wasn’t able to do anything as Dr. Bunsen jabbed the syringe in his neck, pressing down on the plunger. Within a minute blue, red and pink scales appeared where he had been injected.

                       "What did you do?! What was in that syringe?!“ Sara yelled as Mark went limp in the arms of the guards that were holding him, his legs going numb. "Well while working on a cure for Mr. McLaughlin here,” He gestured at Jack who had been trying to get out of the tank to get to Mark, “We accidentally created a faster acting version of the original serum he was infected with. We decided to keep a few samples in case of something like this.” “You bastard! You can’t do that!” Sara yelled, hell’s fury burning in her eyes. “We can and we did. And you’ll be next if you don’t keep this quiet. And don’t even try to alert the authorities or you can say bye-bye to a cure for them,” He said. He walked over to the door. “You can release them now. We’re done here.” The guards let go of Mark and Sara and left with Dr. Bunsen, slamming the door behind them.

                         Sara rushed over to Mark. “Is he okay?” Jack asked, worried for his friend. “You mean other than getting injected by a crazy scientist?Yeah, totally fine,” Mark said sarcastically. “Ugh my feet feel weird,” He muttered. Sara’s eyes widened and quickly removed his shoes and socks. She gasped. His toes were becoming webbed and red, pink, blue and purple scales were forming on his feet and running up to his legs. “Come on, we need to get you in the tank with Jack before you fully change. I won’t be able to get you in when your legs fuse,” She said grimly, helping Mark stand. He stumbled several times as she led him over to tank. His arms itched and they could see fins similar to Jack’s starting to form on his arms. She helped him up the ladder and down into the tank. “I got him Sara. You go sit down,” Jack said. It was obvious that Sara emotionally drained from this, clearly wracked with guilt.

                        Mark gave Sara a weak smile as Jack helped him gets his clothes off when his legs started to fuse. “It’s not your fault Sara. You didn’t know this would happen. Besides, I’m the one that insisted on making that video. If I hadn’t made it or been more careful when editing this wouldn’t have happened. So it’s my fault, not yours. Okay?” He said. Sara nodded glumly, the beginnings of tears evident in her eyes. Despite what he said she still felt responsible. Within a few minutes Mark’s new tail was fully formed. It was mostly navy blue with some red striping, some pink and red scales dappled here and there in the navy blue parts. The scales turned a deep purple at the bottom of his tail and the tailfin was bright pink, the shape similar to a warfstache. His dorsal fins were interesting, they looked like a row of small shark or dolphin dorsal fins running down the length of his tail. They were pink with red on the tips. The fins on his arms and the webbing between his fingers matched the coloring of his dorsal fins. Red, pink and a few blue scales dappled his arms near the fins.

    “So what the hell do we do now?” Mark asked. “The only thing we can do. Wait for the cure. And once you two get it, there’s going to be hell to pay,” Sara said, rage burning in her eyes. Those bastards weren’t going to get away with this. They would be punished, one way or another. She would make sure of that. As the saying goes, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

art for this chapter: https://narutofoxlover.tumblr.com/post/164429165661/silverrose349-things-are-looking-kinda-fishy-for @ego-protection-squad @magic-marvin-protection-patrol @chase-brody-protection-squad

[artificialqueens]

TROIKA (Trixie/Alaska feat. Katya) Prologue/9- Spoky

A/N: In the end, it’s just RPF. @veronicasanders & @fryshook, cheers comrades.

Summary: You can’t choose who you fall in love with and sometimes it’s inconvenient; it’s challenging, cumbersome, difficult and pushes you in directions you previously thought impossible. This is a story about negotiating love when everything you thought you knew about family, relationships and sex proves to be insufficient.

TROIKA

“What happens if you fall in love with an individual, but that individual is more passive? He’s a bottom. And you’re also more passive. You’re a bottom. What you need to do is, break up . ‘Cause you know what you want, and you know how you want it, and you know that he’s not going to do it how you want it.”

- Willam Belli, 2013, 00:56-01:20

May, 2017

“Thank you,” Katya said as he stepped into the silver space.

“Not at all. Which floor?”

Katya glanced up from his mobile phone and smiled at the middle-aged woman who’d held the elevator, seeing him approaching.

“Top, thanks,” he said and smirked at his inner dialogue. Top, thanks. Not that many guys fought him on that one, not in West Hollywood anyway. Well, they hadn’t really fought him on it in Boston, either.  

The woman nodded in response, pressed the button and sighed heavily as she leaned against the elevator wall, closing her eyes.

“Rough day?” Katya asked as he stuffed the mobile back into his pocket. The woman looked worn out, carrying three bags of groceries and a backpack that belonged to a Spiderman-fan.

“You could says so,” she said and chuckled through her nose.

Bing.

The elevator stopped at the second floor and a young, blonde girl jumped in through the slowly retreating doors.

“HA! Made it!” she announced victoriously, slightly out of breath and pointed at the woman with her index finger. She couldn’t have been older than six. Her hair was tied up to a messy ponytail that swung from side to side as she twirled around in the small space in her bright yellow glitter jellies. As she turned, she noticed Katya in the corner and got embarrassed. Shyly, she retreated next to the woman, who Katya guessed had to be the mother.

“Yes, to the second floor,” the woman said. “I thought you were supposed to beat me to the top?”

The elevator doors started to close slowly and the girl grabbed the spiderman backpack, throwing it sassily over her shoulder.

“No. I meant second,” she said and studied Katya discreetly through the mirror. The woman rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, clearly used to the child’s antics. “That’s a girl’s bracelet,” the girl said then, eyeing Katya’s wrist carefully as the elevator twitched to move again.

Katya glanced down at his wrist and chuckled. Trixie had forgotten the pink, plastic trinket into his car almost a month ago and he hadn’t had the chance to return it before today. He’d grabbed the thing from the backseat of his car before making his way to the apartment complex and decided to wear it, rather than stuff it into his backpack, thinking that the chances of him forgetting to return it were smaller that way. He fondled the jewellery affectionately, adjusting the lock against his pulse point and smiled at the girl.

“Yes, I guess it is,” he agreed.

“But you’re a boy,” the child said immediately, squinting her eyes as if trying to identify whether her gendering was accurate or not.

“Ethan,” the woman said emphatically and looked down at the child scoldingly.

The child, Ethan, pursed his lips together and crossed his arms across his chest, covering the flower print of his light purple t-shirt. He never stopped staring, though.

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologised Katya. “They’re very interested in gender.”

“No, it’s alright,” Katya grinned, looking at Ethan and feeling a tiny bit jealous of their freedom and confidence. He wished he’d grown up in a similarly progressive time, in a society where a third pronoun was a possibility, but things had been a little different thirty years ago. “You’re right, I am a boy,” Katya said to Ethan, “- but sometimes, I’m also a woman,” he added cryptically, as if letting Ethan into a secret.

Ethan looked at Katya skeptically at first but as the elevator binged for a sign that they’d reached their destination, they huffed as if coming to a conclusion.

“Yeah, I get that,” they said, nodding compassionately to Katya before storming out, their hands spread wide as if flying, their lips pushed forward to make convincing airplane sounds.

Katya turned to look at the woman, who was now staring at him openly.

“Thank you,” she said seriously. “They don’t get to meet a lot of adults like them.”

“No, thank you ,” Katya praised as they stepped to the hallway, hoping that the woman knew what he meant. Thank you for providing a safe space for a child like me, thank you for letting them be what they are, and most importantly, thank you for not being ashamed of them.

Katya nodded his goodbye as they parted ways and could still hear distant, cheerful airplane sounds echoing in the hallway as he paused behind Alaska’s door. Meeting Ethan had left him slightly unsettled and while he was excited for his meeting with Trixie and Alaska, somehow he felt unbalanced, as if something wasn’t quite right. He shook his head and knocked, determined that the feeling was fleeting, nothing that a cigarette couldn’t sort out. Luckily, it took Alaska just a moment to answer his summons.

“Hey girl!” Alaska greeted as he opened the front door and let Katya into the apartment.

Katya pulled the other man into a brief greeting hug, took notice of how good he smelled and took another exaggerated whiff as he squeezed the man closer.

“You smell divine! Just hold me as I dry hump your leg, would you?”

“You’re confusing me with Willam, again,” Alaska snorted, barely hiding his amusement as he slithered out of Katya’s arms. “But I’ll take a hello?” he added with a flirtatious tone and cocked his eyebrows suggestively at Katya over his shoulder as he led him further into the organised chaos he called home.

“Hello,” Katya drawled and grinned widely, eyeing around in Alaska’s apartment.

Unlike Delta Work’s notorious label as a messy queen, Alaska’s similar reputation had nothing to do with his behaviour on social media. The apartment was clean, but there was clutter on most surfaces: jewelry, makeup, photos, art, drag queen merchandise, post-it notes, postcards – some of which he’d clearly received through the post whilst others sat tightly in the protection of their plastic sleeves. Katya dropped his backpack on the couch, next to the embroidered pillow that read STUN in pine green, and turned to Alaska.

“Seriously though, dire nicotine deficiency, it’s either a cigarette or a panic attack. Choose wisely.”

Alaska chuckled and placed the mug Katya hadn’t noticed him holding on the coffee table.

“You know where the balco-”

Alaska’s sentence was cut short by a knock at the door.

“That’s Brian,” Alaska noted and turned to walk back to the front door, leaving Katya hovering next to the sofa, baffled. He couldn’t recall a single instance of Alaska referring to Trixie as Brian, not one, and yet, the name had rolled through Alaska’s lips with complete ease. The two must’ve gotten close while working on their project. The thought caused a tiny sting of jealousy in Katya’s lower abdomen, but he quickly buried it underneath other unimportant feelings and thoughts. After all, he was here now, they’d invited him over to talk about the project, there was no reason to feel left out. He took couple of steps to his right, for a better view of the hallway and the front door.

Katya followed with interest and slight confusion as Alaska opened the door with a rushed “Katya is here” instead of a “Hello” and let Trixie into the apartment. The pair nodded to each other but no hugs or verbal greetings were exchanged between them. It was odd, but Katya didn’t have time to analyse the interaction further as Trixie noticed him in the living room and rushed over.

“I thought you’d decided against transitioning, Mr. Dolezal,” Trixie mocked as he pulled Katya into a firm hug, sending him into round of giggles.

“Yes yes, against genital snippety-snappety,” Katya agreed enthusiastically, “but look at this skin!”

“Very Pocahontas,” Trixie nodded in approval. “I hope its spray tho’. I’ve put my money on lung cancer, not every fricking subtype of melanoma.”

Katya screamed and flung his fists in the air excitedly. He hadn’t seen Trixie in over three weeks and while they hadn’t stopped texting, being in the actual presence of his best friend felt somehow soothing. Katya’s socially constructed reality felt little more balanced, interesting and manageable in a close proximity to Tracy Martel. He still wanted his cigarette, though.

“Thanks for the reminder. I need a smoke break,” Katya announced, glancing at Alaska briefly for permission to use his balcony. “It’s the least I can do for Tracy’s retirement fund.”

“I’ll be sure to bring that up when they ask for a character reference.”

* *

Katya closed the balcony door behind him and took a seat at the rattan bench next to Trixie. The sun was starting to set, discreetly painting the sky with hues of orange over the still dominant baby blue. It was hot, though. One of the hottest days yet and Katya pulled at the collar of his t-shirt to stretch it out. The leg of his shorts was rubbing uncomfortably against his damp thigh and he felt momentarily jealous of Alaska, who didn’t seem too bothered by the heat in his white tank top and jeans.

“Kim never sweats,” Trixie chuckled. “It’s so weird. Once we were in New Orleans and I swear you could’ve cooked eggs on the sidewalk and this guy is just there, chilling, while the rest of us are on the verge of dehydration, smelling like rotten cabbage.”

“You trying to tell me something?” Katya asked, cocking his eyebrows as he lit his cigarette. The first inhale worked as a lasso that pulled most of Katya’s disoriented thoughts into a some type of, if not organised, then at least contained pile.

“I’m used to your rank,” Trixie brushed him off, spreading his legs wider as he slid slightly lower on the bench to get more comfortable. Katya couldn’t not to notice how his shorts got tighter at the crotch, trapping his dick into a very evident bulge.

“It’s genetic,” Alaska said, catching Katya’s attention.

Alaska was leaning to the balcony rail, his hands crossed over his chest loosely. The pose reminded Katya of Ethan in the elevator. The look that Alaska was giving him, though, Katya couldn’t place. It was curious and simultaneously somehow judgemental, criticising? Alaska glanced quickly at Trixie’s crotch and back to Katya, giving him a discreet but teasing smile. Katya just grinned, not even slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught appreciating Trixie’s current posture.

“Genetic?” Trixie asked, turning to look at Alaska.

“Yeah, like, I read somewhere that the Koreans have like, less sweat glands or something, so they don’t smell like the rest of us.”

“You’re kidding,” Katya snorted.

“No no, I’m not. Google it.”

“I’ll add it to the list of things to google the next time I’m having an existential crisis and need to make sure the world is actually relatively real,” Katya said through laughter before taking a long drag of his cigarette and inhaling deeply. He blew the smoke slowly up towards the ceiling and from the corner of his eye studied Alaska, who was smoking his cigarette in shallower breaths. Alaska’s style reminded Katya of the type you saw in some European movies where less than half of the smoke was inhaled after the initial drag while the rest was released in an extravagant puff. It was somehow sexier, maybe little extra, very drag. In conclusion, suited Alaska perfectly. “So, you guys wanna tell me about this project of yours?”

The relaxed atmosphere on the balcony shifted after the question. Trixie corrected his position to sit more straightforward while Alaska started to absentmindedly massage his shoulder. Katya glanced to Trixie whose gaze was directed at Alaska under his slightly wrinkled brows. He was rubbing his right index and middle finger against his thumb in small circles, a sign of which Katya recognised as Trixie’s subconscious habit while nervous. The pair was looking at each other in silence and Katya frowned. They had invited him over to talk about the project, but didn’t want to talk about it?

“I think I want a beer,” Alaska said suddenly and Trixie was quick to jump on the train.

“I think there are couple of Stellas in the fridge.”

The speed in which Trixie stood up and stepped towards the door made it obvious that he was trying to escape the situation. Katya was getting more confused by the second.

“It’s fine, I’ll get them,” Alaska drawled, stumped his half smoked cigarette into the ashtray and wiggled his way around Trixie to get to the balcony door.

There were two things that struck to Katya as the two competed in what seemed to be a race out of Katya’s uncomfortable presence and questions. One, Trixie seemed curiously knowledgeable about the alcohol contents of Alaska’s refrigerator and two, the ease in which Alaska opened the rainbow striped jar placed on the windowsill next to the balcony door told of a well internalised habit. Almost subconsciously Alaska had pushed aside the ceramic lid with his pinkie, grabbed one of the white balls between his index and middle finger like a Go stone and popped the thing into his mouth before leaving the balcony, not once even glancing at the jar itself as he had been staring at Trixie.

As Alaska disappeared inside, Trixie was left hovering in between the balcony door and his earlier seat and Katya couldn’t recall a time he’d ever witnessed Trixie quite as tense. Possibly in Australia when they’d almost gotten arrested? The Barbie was shifting his weight from left to right and was clearly at loss on what to do next. Trixie’s discomfort felt alien to Katya. He’d thought they were beyond these type of encounters but apparently, he’d been wrong.

“What’s in the jar?” Katya asked, hoping for the mundane question to break the strained charge.

“Mints,” Trixie answered instantly, still staring after Alaska, “I would think,” he rushed to add as a hasty afterthought whilst turning to Katya, as if suddenly realising that he wasn’t supposed to know. “I would think mints.”

Katya looked up to Trixie, puzzled. He could think of two reasons why one might want a mint after a cigarette, neither of which made very much sense in the given situation, so he dismissed the oddity as one of Alaska’s quirks. Something was bugging him, though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it as the trepidity Trixie practically radiated made him feel ill at ease, blurring his thoughts.

When Trixie had called him two days ago to arrange the meeting, explaining that he had something he wanted to talk about, something new and exciting and slightly out of his comfort zone, something that involved Alaska, Katya had gotten excited. Whatever the two had planned  was bound to be hilarious, but also professionally executed, and Katya was here – H. E. R. E. Here. – for it. It had been months since Trixie had first mentioned that he was working on something with Alaska and absolutely refused to spill any of the details. Katya had tried probing Alaska for some information as well, but the man had acted like Helen Keller without a pencil. He felt a little honoured that they’d finally decided to include him, whatever the project was, but the awkwardness and secrecy was driving him slightly mad.

“Come on man, he’ll get them,” Katya said and pulled Trixie back onto the sofa from his shorts leg.

Trixie complied with ease and took a deep breath.

“Fuck man,” Trixie swore quietly and brushed his palm against his knees. “I’m just trying not to fuck this up.”

“What exactly is there to fuck up?” Katya asked, but knew that he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

When Trixie didn’t reply at all, however, or even recognise that Katya had said anything, Katya started to think that maybe, just maybe, it would’ve been more productive to stay at home tonight. He could’ve watched the latest season of Game of Thrones instead, as it seemed like Alaska and Trixie were not going to get anywhere. He leaned his elbows against his knees and thought about Ethan. The confidence of the kid intrigued him.

“I met this kid today,” Katya said not quite certain why he was telling the story.

“Kid?”

“Yeah,” Katya nodded. “Curious little thing. I thought they were a girl at first but then the name was Ethan, so I think non-binary.”

“He introduced himself to you?”

“They,” Katya emphasised, throwing Trixie a judgmental look with cocked eyebrows. Trixie lifted his hands up in mock surrender and pursed his lips. “No, the mom called them that. Or like, I assume she was the mother.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Katya turned his gaze to the yard where a group of young teenagers were fighting over a inflatable dolphin. They weren’t being incredibly loud, or maybe they were just too far for him to hear, but the flirtatious play he could see them engaging in was disturbingly heteronormative. They boys would steal the toy and take it into the pool, into which the girls couldn’t possibly enter because of their hair or makeup, possibly both. So they would guile one of the boys to help them to steal the toy back, and so it went, back and forth, like a very peculiar mating dance. Ethan would probably have to pick a side eventually.

“They were – was?” Katya asked Trixie who just shrugged, clueless. “Were,” Katya decided. “They were wearing these yellow glitter jellies-”

“-that you wanted?”

Katya laughed out loud before singsonging: “Yes, God! And like this purple tee and I- I think I was kinda jealous of their confidence.”

Trixie hummed and nodded as a sign that Katya should go on, that he was listening.

“I don’t know, man,” Katya said and grinned. “Like, meeting them was just like…” Katya paused to look for a word.

“Nice?” Alaska suggested and drew Katya’s attention up from the young, lekking teenagers.

“Yeah,” Katya grinned, meeting Alaska’s eyes. “Nice.”

Trixie grabbed the green Stella Artois Alaska was holding out for him and took a sip.

“I’ve got some weed, if you’d like?” Alaska asked Katya, once again leaning against the balcony rail. Katya chuckled through his nose and shook his head as he lit a second cigarette.

“Nah man, I’m good.”

* *

Katya threw a used napkin on the empty pizza box and leaned his elbows against the dinner table as he lifted his gaze up to Trixie and Alaska on the other side. Trixie was munching on the last slice of pizza, paying clearly no attention on Alaska, who was talking vividly about something Katya hadn’t heard a word of since, well, since the beginning really. He assumed it was something to do with drag, purely based on the excited glimmer in Alaska’s eyes, but he wasn’t really listening. Instead, he fixated on the incredible ease in which Trixie reached over Alaska to grab his beer, to wash down the pieces of pizza he was currently chewing. Trixie had finished his own bottle ages ago and now failed to return the stolen bottle back to Alaska, placing it instead next to his empty one. The exchange reminded Katya of his father who was in a habit of stealing his mother’s red wine on occasion, if she didn’t finish it quickly enough.

“So, spill,” Katya interrupted Alaska without apologies. “And for the record, I know that both of you are capable of coming up with ideas worthy of the Vienna Academy of Art rejecting young Adolf, but I’m open for anything consensual and unanimous,” Katya said sternly as he leaned further into his elbows. He was determined to get to the bottom of this damn project the other two had been avoiding for the past two hours.

Trixie and Alaska exchanged yet another uncertain look between them, as if once more confirming with each other that Katya was to be let into the secret. Katya wanted to roll his eyes but restrained. No idea, however tentative, could be that fragile. Had they fucking met him? Truthfully speaking, he felt like he should’ve been slightly offended that they kept going back and forth with their decision to include him.

“Look,” Katya sighed. “I get the impression that this thing of yours might be a little out there, even for me. But listen, we still have Bob the Politician as the current fucking reigning. As long as it’s not another United Airlines joke, or a rerun of the RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 76 skit, because both of those were badly executed, mama, and I’m talking some serious BFA offensive to be edgy bullshit, I think we should break some PC boundaries – or bones, if it comes to that.”

Trixie blinked at Katya’s words and Alaska bit her lip to prevent a laugh.

“God I hope we don’t break any bones,” Alaska muttered quietly and Trixie threw a disapproving look at him, trying hard to hide his amusement.

Katya watched, intrigued, as Trixie swallowed the final pieces of the pizza, wiped his mouth to the back of his palm and faced Katya with a rather un-Trixie-like seriousness.

“There’s no project per se.”

Katya’s enthusiasm was taken down a notch.

“No?” he asked, now completely confused. “Don’t tell me, you’ve collectively decided to stop the music industry and retire to Baan Souy at Pattaya?”

He reached over the table to offer a hand in solace to Trixie. “I know you want to support your singer-songwriter sister here,” he said solemnly and glanced briefly to Alaska, “- but it’s not your time yet, you still have some good years in you.”

Alaska chuckled lightly as Trixie pressed the feet of her palms into his eye sockets and leaned his elbows to the table, groaning loudly.

“I could-” Alaska started but was immediately cut off.

“No,” Trixie said firmly and sat back up. “I’m doing this. I need to do this.”

Alaska nodded and successfully avoided Katya’s questioning eyes.

“Katya,” Trixie said seriously, too seriously, and Katya had to grin. There was bound to be a joke, it would just take some time for Trixie to crack.

“We’re not retiring. We’re dating.”

Katya was looking at Trixie straight into the eyes and had to admire the raw talent in which he embodied the character. Trixie’s words came across completely sincere, as if he was entirely convinced of his own words, with no trace of the practiced script whatsoever. It was Meryl Streep level artistry. Katya glanced at Alaska, who was still avoiding his gaze and thus he turned back to Trixie, who was now pursing his lips together like he always did when expecting an unfavourable reaction or bad news from his manager.

“You’re kidding,” Katya said and realised that now she too sounded serious, too serious. He rewinded back the previous two hours: the odd non-greeting when Trixie had arrived, the avoidance of the project as a topic of discussion, Trixie’s familiarity with Alaska’s refrigerator’s alcohol contents, the stolen bottle of Stella Artois, even the mints in the clay rainbow jar on the balcony made suddenly sense; Trixie had always hated kissing people who tasted or smelled like cigarettes. Trixie and Alaska in a romantic relationship made about as much sense as the Trump Presidency; just because it seemed too absurd to be true didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

“I wish I was, because your face is a fucking picture right now,” Trixie snorted, but his voice didn’t quite reach the lighthearted tone he was clearly aiming for.

Trixie was nervous, Katya realised. He was apprehensive of Katya’s reaction and was waiting for his reply, possibly even his approval? Holy Mary and Jesus’ twelve Apostles in alphabetical order, they were not joking. Trixie Mattel, Katya’s co-patient from RuPaul’s seventh group therapy session, was, if her word was to be trusted – like, who knew, she could’ve been on any kind of drug possible! Katya swallowed the idea. Trixie Mattel was the least likely of them to be high in this situation and currently, according to her words, dating Katya’s all time favourite drag superstar from RuPaul’s best friend race.

Katya turned to look at Alaska who was now looking at him calculatingly, as if trying to figure out what was going on in his head. What was going on in his head? Katya didn’t even know himself. He was shocked, and confused, and a little disappointed that Trixie hadn’t told him earlier. How long had this been going on? He figured he should probably also feel happy for the pair, but he was too busy feeling shocked and confused to be able to branch out.

He turned his eyes back to Trixie, who looked slightly worried. What was he expecting Katya to say? Surely there was nothing he could say that would somehow affect the situation? Was Trixie expecting him to be upset? Why? Just because Alaska was Katya’s favourite, and admittedly hot as fuck, that didn’t mean that Katya would be upset. Hell, even if the game at Hey Queen had been just a joke, Katya had picked Tatianna over Alaska to kai kai with! It had been Trixie himself who had picked Alaska, not Katya, and… A small lightbulb lit in Katya’s head, very similarly to the scenes one might see in the 1990’s cartoons. Trixie had picked Alaska… The self-proclaimed high femme with a rainbow collection of “BOTTOM”-labelled baseball caps had been chosen by the country cowboy for a mutually satisfying coupling. Now, it certainly wasn’t the politest, or even the most relevant question. But it certainly was the first one Katya’s brain jumped to and before he could prevent himself, he had blurted it out:

“But, who tops?”

Trixie groaned in frustration and hid his face to his arms against the table.

“Funny you should ask,” Alaska drawled slowly as he reached to gently massage Trixie’s neck, an amused grin decorating his lips. “We were kinda hoping that you would.”

___________

A/N2: Thoughts?

[bountyofbeads]

Trump, Flanked by Tanks, Calls for Unity at Fourth of July Event https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/04/us/politics/trump-4th-july.html

With Flyovers and Flags, Trump Plays M.C. for the Fourth

By Michael D. Shear | Published July 4, 2019 | New York Times | Posted July 4, 2019 |

WASHINGTON — In a made-for-television Independence Day production starring America’s military weaponry, President Trump on Thursday used the Lincoln Memorial as the backdrop for a homage to the country’s armed forces and a call for unity that has been largely absent during his divisive presidency.

Flanked by Bradley armored vehicles and M1A2 tanks in front of the statue of Abraham Lincoln, Mr. Trump paid tribute to the five branches of the military as a chorus sang each service hymn and he cued the arrival of fighter jets and other military aircraft roaring by in the skies overhead.

Speaking to a rain-soaked audience filled with troops decked out in “Make America Great Again” and “Trump 2020” paraphernalia, the president finally presided over the grand military display that he has wanted since witnessing the Bastille Day parade in Paris two years ago.

In a 45-minute speech delivered behind rain-streaked bulletproof glass, the president singled out a long list of Americans or their contributions to science, medicine, politics and the arts. But he spent most of his time recounting the history of the armed forces, ending his remarks as the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” blared through huge speakers and the Blue Angels soared overhead.

As long as we stay true to our cause — as long as we remember our great history — as long as we never, ever stop fighting for a better future — then there will be nothing that America cannot do,” Mr. Trump declared to chants of “U.S.A., U.S.A.” “God bless you, god bless the military, and God bless America. Happy Fourth of July.”

Even before he spoke, the president’s appearance on the National Mall drew fierce criticism from Democrats and some members of the military, who accused the president of using the military troops and equipment as little more than political props for his own benefit.

“Tanks aren’t props. They are weapons of war,” said Senator Jack Reed, a Rhode Island Democrat and West Point graduate who served in the 82nd Airborne Division. Senator Kamala Harris of California, a Democratic candidate for president, said of Mr. Trump: “I don’t think he understands, this is America’s birthday, not his birthday.”

But two weeks after formally announcing his re-election bid in Orlando, Fla., with a dark message of grievance and attacks on his enemies, the president on Thursday offered a different, more optimistic tone. He added himself to Washington’s annual Independence Day celebration in what he called a “Salute to America” that avoided any of his usual attacks on the media, Democrats or his intelligence agencies.

“We all share a truly extraordinary heritage. Together, we are part of one of the greatest stories ever told — the story of America,” he told a large crowd of people, many wearing the president’s red, trademark “Make America Great Again” baseball caps. “To this day, that spirit runs through the veins of every American patriot.”

Previous presidents have commandeered the Lincoln Memorial, but none had ever done it the way Mr. Trump did on Thursday, packing the audience with supporters and assuming the role of Master of Ceremonies that centered mostly around the troops at his command.

In 2009, former President Barack Obama held a star-studded inauguration party at the Lincoln Memorial two days before his swearing-in at the Capitol. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered on the mall to hear a concert that included performances by Bruce Springsteen, U2, Beyoncé, Garth Brooks and more.

Eight years later, Mr. Trump also visited the Lincoln Memorial the night before his inauguration, delivering brief remarks and leading supporters lining the Reflecting Pool in chants of make America great again.

On Thursday, the president spoke not far from where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his “I have a dream” speech to nearly a quarter-million people in 1963, hailing Lincoln’s decision to sign the Emancipation Proclamation as a “great beacon light of hope” to millions of people.

Thousands of people braved scorching, humid weather — and later heavy downpours — as they poured into Washington D.C. for the Fourth of July festivities on Thursday.

One woman wore a “I’m a Trump Deplorable” T-shirt, followed not far behind by a man in a “Veterans for Trump” shirt. A man wearing a shirt that said “Vote Democrat: Make America a Third World Country” walked through the crowd yelling about the end of the democracy. A lone Trump opponent walked quietly with a sign that said “Dump Trump.”

Outside of the secure area, on the other end of the National Mall, where PBS will be holding its annual Fourth of July concert — a completely separate event from the president’s rally — there appeared to be far fewer Trump supporters. The president’s red “MAGA” hats were hard to find, and Trump 2020 T-shirts were nowhere to be found.

Ahead of Mr. Trump’s arrival, supporters of the president huddled in the VIP section under trees to escape a long downpour of rain while the Marine Corps Band played a medley of patriotic songs, including God Bless America. Brief cheers of “U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!” came from the military crowd pressed along the fence line.

Daniel P. Cortez, age 68, of Stafford, Va., who was wounded in Vietnam as a Marine infantryman, sat in the VIP section waiting for the president. The director of the National Veterans Court Alliance, Mr. Cortez said he received an invitation from the White House on Monday.

“I’m not a Republican. I’m an independent,” said Mr. Cortez, the recipient of the Navy Commendation Medal for valor, a Purple Heart and the Navy-Marine Corps Medal. “But when the White House calls, I’m not going to pass up a seat at an event like this. Patriots should go to any White House. I’m honored to go.”

Jason Cullins, a truck driver from Lafayette, La., didn’t plan to come to the Trump event Thursday. He was on his way to drop off a load in New Jersey and decided to stop in Washington because he can’t deliver on the Fourth of July.

“There’s always a show in Washington, D.C., so I had to make a stop,” he said as he held flags that said “Trump 2020” and “Make America Great Again.” “You have everybody here. You have anti-Trump people, which I don’t agree with, but by God that’s what makes America great. We have freedom of speech. I have no problem with them.”

Supporters of Mr. Trump were greeted by the large Trump baby balloon not far from the World War II memorial. Code Pink, a liberal, antiwar group, organized the balloon as a way to mock the president. “It’s disgusting that Trump has hijacked our national holiday and turned it into a celebration of him,” said Medea Benjamin, a co-Director of code Pink.

Ms. Benjamin said that most supporters of Mr. Trump have mostly been respectful, though one man threatened to attack the balloon, something that has happened in other cities where activists have flown it.

Stan Sinberg on Thursday sold anti-Trump buttons and pins, including ones that said “Border Personality Disorder”’ with a picture of Trump next to it. He brought his wagon of pins to Washington from New York because the Fourth of July “is supposed to be a nonpartisan event but Trump has politicized it.”

During the event, a man told Sinberg he had to leave, others shouted “Trump 2020” and “Pence 2024” at him. One man asked why he hated America. “Trump is not synonymous with America,” Sinberg replied.

Mr. Trump has wanted to host the country’s military since he declared the Paris parade to be the best one he had ever seen. The president initially pushed for a similar military parade in Washington for Veterans Day in 2018, but fierce local opposition and a $90 million price tag for the event forced him to back down.

The president announced months ago his intention to speak on Fourth of July. But it was just in recent weeks that he demanded a robust military presence, including tanks and fighter jet flyovers.

That led to a mad scramble in the Defense Department to gather the military leaders who would attend. The Pentagon was given only a few days notice that Trump wanted his defense secretary, all the Joint Chiefs and all the service secretaries by his side during his remarks.

Most of the Joint Chiefs were on leave or on travel. Gen. Joseph L. Lengyel of the Air Force, the head of the National Guard Bureau had a long-scheduled trip to the Middle East that was on, then off, then on again as of Wednesday. Another National Guard general was tapped to attend.

Of the other chiefs, only Adm. Karl Schultz, the Coast Guard commandant, joined Gen. Joseph F. Dunford Jr., the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, with the president. The others were on travel or on leave, and sent their deputies in their stead.

Some Pentagon officials sought on Wednesday and Thursday to make a virtue out of a necessity, saying it will be a chance for the substitutes — generally rising stars in their services — to get some valuable face time with the commander in chief.

[aaronmascoll]

Chapter 42 - Leila

Leila let out a huge breath. The pain from her shoulder was gone thanks to Morgan. Nox had killed the second woman in the forest without any trouble, then found and killed the third one. Morgan said they were Valkyrie soldiers bound to the elders, and wouldn't have talked no matter what they did. Apparently twenty thousand years ago the elders made a deal with a Valkyrie queen. The deal was that they would receive a hundred soldiers a month in exchange for not going to war with them.

Leila did feel sorry the Valkyries, even though they just tried to kill her. Or maybe they were going to capture her. They never specified.

Leila laid down on a bed in the infirmary. She rested her head on her paws while Morgan conversed with Mr. Slum. Nox stood next to her, covered, head to toe, in soot and ash. He casually rested the sword covered in yellow flames on his shoulder. Leila made a quiet bark at him. He turned his head and said, "Yes Ms. Grant?"

Leila licked the back of his hand since it was the only thing she could reach. She hoped that he understood she was asking why was he cover in soot and ash. "Oh, um... I kind of accidentally teleported into a demon's castle about million miles east of here."

Leila shook her head in disappointment.

"I did find this though," Nox said holding up the sword. "At least the trip wasn't a total waste. I think the sword might be possessed too."

Morgan shook Mr. Slum's hand and came walking over. "Okay Nox," she said. "How did you know there were Valkyries this close to the school?"

"I actually didn't," he replied nonchalantly. "I had cast a pack master spell on Ms. Grant and the other students that wanted to learn beast magic. When Ms. Grant got hurt, the spell told me something was wrong, so I went to check on her. That's when I found them."

"Well thank you for what you did. Though I'm probably the only reason they came this close to the school. And, because of that, I'll have to upgrade the barriers around the school."

"They were looking for someone else?"

"What?"

"The third Valkyrie was searching the staff's housing, but you were in the auditorium, with the rest of the staff. That would suggest she was looking for someone that wasn't there."

Leila barked in agreement.

Morgan looked at Leila for a long time, and then burried her head in hands. When she said, "Oh my God, Leila you didn't." Leila knew she figured it out. "It's a good thing I sent a letter of invitation to king Hightower."

Leila's tail wagged in excitement, and barked with joy.

"He's not coming here for you! I need him to-"

"Headmistress," Mrs. Fume interrupted. "King Hightower is here."

"Already? I sent the letter ten minutes ago. How did he get here so fast?"

"He flew on an Alpha King Griffin."

"Where's is he now?"

"He's in your office. He climbed up the side of the tower."

Leila couldn't contain herself. She leapt off the bed, and bolted passed Mrs. Fume. Morgan told her to wait, but she wasn't going to stop for anyone. Passed the students, and passed open classrooms, Leila ran until she found the staircase that would take her to Jackson. Even in her wolf form, she was sure he would recognize her.

When Leila finally reached Morgan's office, she found the door slightly ajar. She pushed it open with her muzzle, and went in. Her eyes instantly locked onto his coat. The golden fur coat that he never took off. It was a sight for sore eyes, and she was so glad to see it. She jumped on him, placing her paws on his back, and barking excitedly. But when he turned around, Jackson wasn't the face that smiled at her, a redheaded woman smiled at Leila.

Leila was suddenly filled with jealousy. Jackson never let her wear his coat. So why was she wearing it? "Aren't you a cutie?" The redheaded woman said honestly.

Leila smelled the woman, and she had the same smell as the Valkyries form earlier. But with another smell, Leila smelled a man's scent coming from the woman. The scent was coming from all over her. It was the coat, Leila told herself.

The redheaded woman started to scratch Leila behind her ears. Despite her jealousy, she enjoyed it. Leila never knew something so simple could feel so good. The redheaded woman stopped scratching Leila as Morgan entered her office with Nox, and Mrs. Fume right behind her. She turned around and went to the back of the room, and that's when Leila saw Jackson. He was standing by Morgan's bookcase with one of her journals in his hands. He wore a black tank top, black leather pants, and a brand new pair of combat boots. Leila was about to run to him, but found her movements halted by the collar, and leash, around her neck. She barked at Jackson, trying to get his attention, but he ignored her. "You've lived quite the life Ms. Wormwood," Jackson said as he turned the page in Morgan's journal.

"You can read that?" Morgan asked as she passed Leila's leash to Nox, who then passed it to Mrs. Fume.

"The words move around the moment I turn the page, but i have a photographic memory, so It's kind of pointless."

"Well, I'd hate to disturb your reading, but I'd like to get straight to the point," Morgan said moving closer to Jackson. "I want to employ some of your warriors. I have reason to believe the elders will attack the school. If you agree, the warriors you send would be given housing, and allowed to use our facilities. The elder's warriors could attack at anytime, and from any direction. We have teachers capable of fending them off, but it would be insane to monitor every possible direction, and protect the students."

Jackson didn't even think about it."Ok, sure," he said as he closed Morgan's journal and put back on the shelf. "But first, I need you to do something for me."

"I'll do whatever is within my power."

"For whatever reason, I haven't been able to control my anomali energy, or my ability."

The redheaded woman was going to say something, but Jackson held up a finger and she stopped. "Is there anything you can do about it."

Morgan went to her desk, and began to magically move everything on top of it to the bookshelves. "Remove your shirt, and lay down on the desk. On your stomach, please."

As Jackson removed his shirt, and passed in front of Leila, she got another look at the tattoo down his spine. The first time she had saw it, she thought it was some kind of tribal tattoo. Now, she knew it was anything but. It was a phrase written in the language of Merlin.

Leila barked, she didn't know why, but something about his tattoo caused her to bark.

As Jackson laid across Morgan's desk, she froze. "The tattoo on your back. Do you know what it says?"

"Yes I do," Jackson said Matter-of-factly. "It says 'Son of The Eagle.' I speak the language of Merlin very fluently."

He speaks it? Leila was beginning to think she didn't know anything about Jackson.

Morgan coated her hands with her anomali energy, a purple mist that represented her perfectly. She placed her hands on the middle of Jackson's back, closed her eyes for a minute, and then opened them. "You have a life binding to three Valkyries?" Morgan said as she took a step back.

"Yes I do," Jackson said sitting up.

"This is easy then. You can't control your anomali energy or ability because you had the binding placed on you when you were mortal, and now that your body's immortal, the binding is acting a lock of sorts."

"Get in here girls!"

The balcony door opened and two more girls walked in. One blonde, one brunette, and they looked relatively similar to the redheaded woman. From their scents, Leila knew they were also Valkyries, but they smelled differently than the redheaded one. Their scents were stronger, much stronger than the redheaded woman's. "And how do I remove this lock?" Jackson asked.

"To remove the lock, each of these girls has to cut you. The cuts have to be deep enough to leave a scar. This will remove the binding, and the lock, altogether."

Each of the girls were about to say something, but Jackson stopped them. Jackson put his shirt on, and walked up to Morgan. "Thank you. I'll send some of my warriors to aid you with your problem, but first there is one more thing I want to ask you."

"Sure go ahead."

"Where's Leila?"

There it was. Those two words seem fill the room like an unwanted guest. "She's not available at the moment," Morgan said awkwardly.

When Jackson's eyebrows rose, Leila could tell he knew something wasn't right. She started to bark, and pull on her leash, but Mrs. Fume held her in place. "Why don't I believe you?" Jackson said with a smile.

"I don't know what to say. She doesn't want to see you right now."

Leila barked louder.

"The more you say it, the less I believe it."

Nox took a small step forward, and Jackson looked at him. "You take another step towards me, and I will end you."

If she had blinked, she would have missed it. Before Nox could even lift his sword, Jackson had moved across, drove his elbow into Nox's chest, and pushed him away with the palm of his hands. Nox flew backwards and crashed into the wall. He stood up, clutching him sword tightly, and confidently. But, something in his eyes told Leila he was afraid.

Leila pulled, and finally managed break out of Mrs. Fume's grip. She ran to Jackson, leapt on him, and barked for him to stop. He didn't look at her, but she was sure if only he looked her in the eyes he know it was her.

Jackson pushed Leila off of him and went up to Morgan. "Regardless of what you say, I promise you my warriors will arrive this time two days from now. So, let me ask you again, but be warned, If I have to come back here and look for her myself, you will not like what happens. Where's Leila?"

When Morgan didn't say anything, Jackson took that as his cue to leave. He and the three Valkyries walked out to the balcony, and leapt over the railing.

After he had left, Nox collapsed. He was clutching his chest, and gasping for air. "I'll fetch Mr. Slum!" Mrs. Fume said running out of the room.

Morgan ran over, and put a hand on Nox's shoulder. "Are you okay, Nox?" Morgan asked.

Leila, rubbed her head against Nox's shoulder affectionately. She felt guilty that Jackson hurt him. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It just takes sometime for the effects from the attack that guy used on me to wear off."

"What effects?"

"That two hit move he used me is a special attack that stops the flow of anomali energy in a person's body. It's so rare, there's probably about ten people alive who know it. I only know it because Headmaster Wolfram taught it to me." Nox stood up, his breathing was better. "He really would have killed me if Ms. Grant didn't stop him."

"Stop the flow? Wait, then that would make him-"

"Oh yeah. He's a warlock hunter, and a damn good one."