#kill murder death to landlords. thank you

[amrv-5]

being sooooo brave today (scheduling tdap appointment calling the bank taking a picture for a photo ID scheduling an appointment to pick up photo ID setting up direct deposit filing tax forms)

[locallixie]

housemates — lee know

> summary . how can you live your life peacefully with having your housemate constantly seducing you like that?!

> genre . smut, fluff, housemates au, forced proximity, housemate!minho, gn!reader.

> warnings . sexual tension, general sexual themes, minor language, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, tipsy sex.

(wc) > 6.3k

(sunny's note) ☆ "and they were roommates.” wanted to be sweet and cute, until lee minho is in the equation. sorry for the late upload, i had a really bad writing slump and progress was slow. but i made it!

You shouldn’t have agreed to this if you knew this was how it would turn out. What a mistake, your kindness that yourself and other has taken for granted. And currently stuck in a living situation that tested your patience every waking hours, your dormitory experience was no match for this.

Jisung had asked you for a ‘small’ favour a couple months earlier, about how his friend got evicted and was now homeless, wondering if you could let him stay for a while until he find a new place. First of all, that was not a small favor. Secondly, you didn’t even know this friend that he was talking about. And you were reluctant to let a stranger stay in your house right off the bat. You lived in a dorm before, but that was a dorm and not your own house.

“Please, [Y/N], just a couple months.” Jisung pushed over the phone, you could tell he was outside from the loud and slightly muffled noise that the speaker picked up upon.

Sighing, your soft spot for him would be the death of you. Agreed with hesitation, since you were glad you were out of the dorm life and regained your privacy, but it seemed that life had came to pull you back in. Jisung should be expecting your complaints if something bad happened between you and your new housemate.

From the first initial meeting, you got some of the weirdest vibe from this guy. Maybe it was the amount of black and leather he was dressed up in, or the bitchy look on his face that could kill with a single stare. How the fuck was Jisung friends with a person like this? They were the complete opposite of one another, the guy looked as if he committed first degree murders as his favourite past-time. What you meant was you were convinced that he was a sociopathic killer, and he was probably plotting yours and Jisung’s death soon.

For one person, he sure did had a lot of stuff. You three brought around eight or ten different sized carton boxes up to your apartment, not counting the two gigantic suitcases that he had to take a second trip with Jisung to go get. He must have been living in his old place for very long to have that much stuff, wonder why he got kicked out? Possibly because the landlord found the bodies with how sharp his eyes always glared at.

“Don’t worry about the rent, Minho can pay for his half.” Jisung reassured, starting his car. The engine roared loudly, it had been through a rough day of carrying all that stuff to here.

Before he left, Jisung told you one last thing. “Oh, and don’t be afraid to ask him for help around the house, Minho may look intimidating but he’s quite a sweet guy.” With that sentence stuck in the back of your head, he drove away. If you could even have enough courage to ask him to take the trash out, maybe that statement would be proven.

You did all the house chores yourself, you didn't ask for any assistance from Minho. Wether it was because you were used to having to do everything yourself, or he was just still as unapproachable as the first time you two met. But he too, barely talked to you. You heard his voice once or twice when he was on the phone, but he did not speak a full sentence to you and ought for short few words replies.

"Do you need any help?" Another voice emerged from behind your back, offering assistance.

You pulled the trash bag out of the can, "I'm good, thanks,"

"Whatever, suit yourself." Minho walked away. Not even a bit of small talk? It frustrated you of how aloof he was acting, he didn't want to get to know you at all. However, it pissed him off just as much, you would always shrug him off every-time he offered to help you. As you two had made it clear before, you hardly knew each other, and here you were living together as people of unfamiliarity.

You didn't know his last name, or how he met your three years best friend—Jisung. Neither did he held any personal information about you, he wasn't even sure which variation of your name was the correct one. Already a month has passed by and no one was willing to start up a conversation with the other person. This ice between you and Minho just kept getting thicker and colder.

Ranting on the phone, "I'm telling you, I can not get through him! I think he hate me!"

"Calm down, [Y/N], he doesn't hate you." Jisung reassured, sighing as this was the third phone call of the month that you were expressing your discontent for the same subject. "It's simple, just talk to him, even if it's small talk."

Hearing the front door opened, "Fuck, he's back, I'll talk to you later." You didn't let Jisung say 'bye', hanging up in the midst of his sentence.

Minho worked a nine-to-five job, you weren't sure of his occupation in particular. You got a sense of his routine, he would leave the house at exactly seven-fifty in the morning and usually came home around five or six—depending on the traffic that day. On few occasions, he was nice enough to bring food home for the both of you.

"Hey, you're back quite late today?" You asked, seeing the clock already hitting six at the moment.

He set down a few plastic bags on the table, "I got groceries on the way, I'll cook dinner." He explained shortly, bringing ingredients to the kitchen for preparation.

That was a first, he had never offered to cook before, much less thanking you for the meals you made for dinner. Guessed he was just hot and cold like that, and this was his way of showing his gratitude. You weren't mad, on what normal day would you have someone cook for you enjoy? You technically did everything yourself when you moved out a few years ago.

Watching his figure diligently cooking in the kitchen, it comforted you in an unusual way. He was like your own personal boyfriend—for tonight at least, he would cook and then sit at the table with you to eat, maybe he might even offer to wash the dishes. A fine, hard-working young man? Anyone who could scored him would probably be winning in life. You couldn’t hide your jealousy if he ever bring home a date.

He walked over to you, holding out a spoon with a small portion of thick orange liquid. Minho asked, “Try it, tell me if it suit your taste.”

The tangy flavour stood out immediately, he must have put something citrusy as it melt into your tastebuds. It was good, no, amazing even! This hidden talent of his was worth all the waiting you had done, you never knew Minho could be such a great chef. For a while, you thought this guy couldn’t possibly hold a knife correctly, yet you were proven wrong of your assumptions.

You nodded, the sound you made when encountered good food already told him enough. Everything smelled so mouth-watering, and the presentation was tempting you to devour everything in on sitting.

"Thanks for the food!" As soon as he placed the last dish onto the table, you immediately picked up your utensils. You could not hold yourself back when face with good home-cooked food, good home-cooked food made by an equally good-looking guy.

Minho sat down beside you—he usually sat across from you which kept a nice distance between the two of you—he was very close today. Asked he, "How is it? Good?"

You didn't hold back on your praises, "God, why didn't you cook sooner? This is actual heaven~!"

He simply smiled in a humble manner. Your face was a little puffed up when you eat, which he found quite endearing. Watching you stuffed your entire face with rice, sweet and sour ribs, and eggrolls. Flattered by how much you were enjoying it, yet concerned from how fast you were eating.

"Slow down, wouldn't want you to choke." He gazed at you as he advised.

"Unless you like it like that." Immediately, you started coughing profusely. A grain of rice flew up to your nose, making everything worse the longer it stayed stuck up there.

Minho patted your back, "Woah, are you alright?" Uh, obviously no?! You were coughing out rice over here, how could you even be remotely okay? And how did he expect you to be okay after that suggestive comment he just made? This guy was unbelievable. The smile laced with deviousness, as if he was silently planning something that would catch you off guard—which certainly did a minute ago.

He picked up a single rib and ate it with his chopsticks, he probably mind getting his hands dirty from that sticky sauce he used. How could Minho looked so graceful while eating while you were here devouring everything down like a fucking caveman. Work on your image a bit, would you? Especially when you were living with someone that wouldn't use their hands to eat ribs.

"Have you been talking to Jisung recently?" Minho suddenly questioned, setting down his bowl as to show respect.

You turned to him, confusion sitting on your shoulders and your heart sinking with a bit of guilt. By any chance, did he overheard your conversations? "Yeah, I have." Continued by another question, "What? Are you two not talking?"

Minho's eyes was bigger than you expected, now seeing him a bit closer from your distance from each other. It curved in a very pretty way, and glistened upon every reflections of his soul. You couldn't help, couldn't help but get a little sad every-time you gazed into his eyes, or when they would unknowingly stared back at you. He looked at you, as if through his eyes saw you as the most precious person to exist in the short timespan that was the human life.

"He haven't been answering my texts and calls, I don't know if he's upset with me or something?" Minho sighed, "Can you...just ask him for me?"

In a bit of hesitation, "Would it be a bit rude for an outsider to chime in? Whatever it is you and Jisung are going through, it's best if you two worked it out together...privately." You told, trying to offer other solutions.

Minho let out a tired breath, "I don't know, I'm not sure what I did wrong that made him upset with me, that's what I'm most worried about."

You patted his back, "Just talk it out with him, communication is key!" How ironic, you could hardly hold a conversation with him, and now you were here giving out communication advise? Unreliable source. You knew you shouldn't interfere with whatever beef Jisung and Minho was having between each other, but you were making it seem like you wouldn't ask Jisung for details. Or Jisung would tell you himself from how much he like to rant to you.

Minho flashed a genuine smile towards you, "Thanks, I owe you one!"

Your heart skipped a beat, just one enough for your whole system to go the very bit haywire. You were finally making some good progress with Minho, and his entire intimidating and remote façade all came crashing down when he smiled. Keep up the good work!

“Are you and Minho back on speaking terms yet?” The other line went quiet for a few seconds, you heard a sigh being let out.

Jisung replied with a question, “He told you?”

Fuck, your nosy tendencies were acting up again, it slipped out of you like a natural instinct. “No—um, yeah he did but I don’t know the details or anything! He was just wondering if you were mad at him or something since you stop contacting him.” You went on to explain, trying to tell Jisung that you weren’t intending to be impolite and simply wanted to help your friend out.

The other giggled at your tone of voice, of how freaked out he got you. You acted as if the people you were working for to take down started suspecting you to be a double agent, but unlike those action films, you were terrible at hiding the truth.

“My girlfriend don’t like the fact that I’m still friends with my exes, so she wiped out their contacts from my phone.” The whole problem was finally solved as the explanation came out.

Wait, one thing. “Minho is your ex?!” You exclaimed at the sudden realization.

Jisung was absolutely enjoying this from the other line, “What? You want him?” He teased.

Your face went red, denying the question thrown at you. This whole time, this was the relationship your housemate has with your best friend? And he had never cared to tell you about anything regarding this romance he once had? All these people do was lie. Struggling through your words, you outwardly rejected the idea. “No—! No– I don’t! I—!”

Jisung interrupted, “It’s fine, he’s all yours.”

You tried denying, “No, I don’t want him—!” Quickly being cut of by Jisung once more.

“And he’s a really great kisser—”

“Jisung, shut the fuck up!” You hanged up in embarrassment, throwing your phone away in a state of panic. Why would he tell you that? As if you needed to be more careful around Minho now that you knew these things about him. God, how did he expect you to continue living with this knowledge? Unlike Jisung, you saw Minho everyday of the week.

The door to your bedroom suddenly opened, “Are you okay? I heard a thud.” Minho was still in his work attire, a tad bit sweaty from the heated summer air, the first two buttons of his shirt were left undone. Solely from the condition of his appearance was in, you were mentally restraining yourself.

“Did you just came back?” You asked, begging that he didn’t heard your conversation with Jisung on the phone a few minutes ago.

He replied shortly, “Yeah, I’ll go shower now so we can eat.” Closing your door as he left without another word, left silently with knowing what you said earlier. He heard enough of your phone call, you were too caught up with talking that you didn’t hear the front door open. Minho was halfway across the hall to his room when he heard you shouted, his name fell out from your mouth as clear as day.

Oh, Jisung never told you that he and Minho were a thing? Now it was kind of awkward for the both of you. But if you wanted him, he wanted you too. He saw the way you would look at him, stealing glances from across the table. He was a very attractive guy, you were sure he wholeheartedly knew this, and he used it to his advantage.

Coming out of a cold shower, his hair was wet and dripping water down his back and shoulders, but at least have some respect for you by covering up his entire bare torso. At the dinner table? Was he going to be half-naked for the whole duration of dinner? He wanted you dead, you boldly claimed.

“So…how was work?” You opened up a topic, hoping he would start talking to fill the silence that was ongoing between the two of you.

Minho let out a chuckle, "Not fun." Handing you a pair of chopsticks and a ceramic bowl. That was understandable, he did looked quite worn out coming home after work.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking." You raised a question into his occupation.

He began picking up food from the many plates into his bowl, the wondrous scent controlled his chopsticks faster than his mind. Minho answered while pouring the meat broth over his rice, "I'm an accountant."

An accountant? Was that a code word for sex workers? No one in their right mind would go into accounting. Minho out of all people, worked as an accountant? You had no negative comments on his intelligences, or his work ethics. But accounting sounded so boring for someone as interesting as Minho, you thought what he said was a joke of some sort. Maybe he had a side hustle doing unconventional and dirty jobs.

"It's not fun, but I got bills to pay." Minho joked to lighten up the mood, filling in the empty pauses with yours and his joyful laughs.

He shook his head in a subtle yet prominent dissappointment, smiling to hide his actual emotion on his feeling of unfulfillment. "I wish I became a singer back then."

What he said piqued your interest, you looked up at him with a spark of excitement. Straight into his eyes, you asked. "You sing?"

His vocals was almost professional singer level, for a first in the short timespan of knowing him, you saw such happiness on his face. Holding the microphone as he sang you a love song, the amount of money you spent on that karaoke machine paid off. Minho wasn't wrong or thought too highly of himself when he said he should had became a singer, you would have said the same thing if you knew him sooner. And if he did, you would support him with your all.

The atmosphere got a bit hotter and hotter as the night went on, with alcohol entering the table as an uninvited guest. When a sensual song came on, the mood totally changed for better or worse. His loose t-shirt was showing some skin, it was too a little short as it was showing peeks of his toned stomach underneath. Your mind was going places, wether it was because of the alcohol getting you tipsy or it was your inner desires for intimacy.

Minho did not broke eyes-contact with you, in a hushed voice, stating that you were the only beauty he would keep in his sight tonight. Gently holding your hand in his, he placed it on his chest. Did you feel it? Under the warm and shaking palm of yours. His heart beating at a tiny bit quicker pace than usual, beating for you with all of these temptations in him.

"Minho, I should go to bed now, it's getting awfully late." You told, diverting away in a flustered mess. Yet, despite your attempt at diluting the air, Minho persuasion didn't seem to back down. Too heated, too close as you could now smell his liquor-laced breath.

Eyes half-lidded which made his desires just the more prominent, he was serious with no control. Before your lips could touch one another, a loud vibration emerged abruptly that pulled both of you out of that drunken trance.

Blindly grabbing for your phone, your eyelids were giving up as each minute continued to pass by. You didn't look at the contact name, the alcohol was taking over your system like a pernicious poison. A voice echoed out from your phone speaker, it took you a few seconds to register the other line’s speaking and its distinct frequency.

“Where is your report?! [Y/N], you are driving me crazy with your constant delays!” They roared at you, annoyed and angered.

You got off from your place on the couch, walking away with your phone in hand as you used your last few excuses to save yourself. “Seungmin, it’s not really a good time right now, can I call you back?”

Seeing you caught up with work on the line, he figured he would clean up this mess you two made on the coffee table for you. For a moment, he thought you felt it too. He might had read the room wrong, but the way you tried to avert from the situation felt almost like a reassurance for him. As if you wanted to go further with him, go little deeper, but you were unsure if he was onboard as well. He thought of apologizing, after you sober up more than the state you were in at the moment.

You swore, you couldn't remember anything from the night before. Went to bed at nearly one in the morning, woke up head-empty and half of the blankets and pillows were off your bed. Come on, you could confidently say that you did not exceed your limit. Yet as shown this morning, you had a rough night yesterday with the leftover liquor running through your veins.

You were absolutely dumb-founded when he said he was sorry for what happened last night, as if you remembered everything clearly to its very details. Let's see, you ate dinner, you talked, sang a couple songs out of boredom you assumed, then it all when foggy after that.

"What are you on about? I have no idea of whatever the hell you are apologizing for." Telling him straight up, you could not register anything he was saying to make any sense.

Frustrated, and a bit taken over by the shame from yesterday. "No, it's okay, you're better off not knowing anyway. Sorry for making a scene so early in the morning."

Minho finished the few last sips of his Americano, grabbing his laptop bag from under the dining table in a hurry. "I have to go now, see you again at six." He bid goodbye at the front door.

Before he go for the next ten hours, you told him tonight's plan. "I have a few friends over tonight, if you don't mind their companies."

"How many are coming?" Minho asked.

You tilted your head as you tried to remind yourself of the size of your party, maybe even the identities of your guests as well. "Just three. Jisung is going to be there too, if you want to see him."

You could forget anything, anything that you deemed important. But one thing that you couldn't seem to shake off your mind, as it has been bugging you ever since you knew of it, was the bygone romance Minho had with your best friend—happened to be Jisung. Now that you were non-actively trying to persue the guy, it left a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Though Jisung had affirmed that the past was in the past, you could court his ex-boyfriend all you want.

Minho looked down, "We'll talk later, okay? I'm late for work." Leaving things unfinished between you, he closed the door as he left.

You didn't work until around noon, you could work from home if you wanted, yet you still came into the office everyday since things moved faster with you being physically there. But after that call from Seungmin—head of your department, you were already considered brave for the mere thought of showing up. Despite how nice Seungmin actually was, his anger was incomparable to anything you had ever seen.

After your short shift, you went back home to get things prepare. On the way home, you had already picked up a few ingredients. Said ingredients were just a six-pack of cold beers and Gochujang sauce for the beef. The others wouldn't come for another hour, for the time being, you would have to get everything ready by yourself.

Pray to god that the table grill was still working today since you haven't brought it out for a good few years now, it was collecting dust in the very far back of your cupboard. The hangout had been planned for a little while already, you got most of the things a day or two prior.

Was Minho going to join you? His expression carried a bit of hesitation when you asked this morning, though you would be happy to have him if he did changed his mind. The more the merrier!

Hyunjin and Jisung came over just a tiny bit earlier than Felix, guessed he was caught up with some baking for desert. You and your friends were all gathered up together at the dining table, it felt crowded by how small of a space you had to eat for four people. Happy that Hyunjin’s beer wasn’t on the floor since it was standing so confidently at the edge.

“When is Minho coming home?” Jisung suddenly turned to you.

“I don’t know, usually he would be back by now.” You shrugged, just now noticing today’s abnormalities. Maybe something came up at the office, or he had something else he needed to do beside from work matter. Whatever it was, you just hoped he would get home safety.

Speak of the devil, not even ten minutes had passed and the front door softly rang of clicking keys. You came to open the door for Minho, meeting his slightly stunned expression. His glossy tired eyes under the dirty frames of his glasses gazed back at you, his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead as if he ran his way home. God, he looked rough, but so strangely enticing at the same time.

"Hey, we were just talking about you!" You beamed.

"Sorry, I'm late. My digital files got corrupted, so I had to get I.T to check that bitch out." Minho sighed deeply, you could imagine how long it took to resolve it purely from how worn out he presented.

The others greeted him at the dining table, getting a stool for him to sit since you were out of chairs. Minho was sandwiched between you and Hyunjin, one he knew, one he didn’t. He felt the tiniest bit uncomfortable sitting in such a tight spot, especially when yours and his thighs were rubbing against each other. He didn’t mind it too much, he liked you anyways.

“Ah, Minho! This is Hyunjin, and that’s Felix, they’re my college friends.” You introduced. Though he was a year older, they treated him with a casual formality. Felt more like meeting old friends than new people, your group broke the ice a lot quicker than he had previously expected. Soon you all were drinking and chatting, learning a bit too much about each other for the first meeting.

Felix tapped out, “No more, I’m driving tonight.” With Jisung following along as most had already decided to stop drinking, including you.

You placed your hand on the shoulder of the person next to you, “Are you still going? Damn, you must know how to handle your liquor.”

Minho stared back at you as you spoke to him, his eyes half-lidded like the night before. The first few buttons were unfastened, his bare and defined chest laid underneath the thin fabric. A sheer cast of sweat made his body glistened by the overhead light, his glasses was slowly slipping off his nose bridge which reflected the sweat even more than it should have. His face was flushed red and pink everywhere, flushed from a love confession of a drunken mind. Any minute now, he might just be making out with you.

His heart and guts was burning up with these carnal desires, if your friends weren't here, you could bet he would be fucking your brains out like how you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted you just as much, so shamelessly wanted you.

Minho leaned in suddenly, his lips and hot intoxicated breath lingered your ears. Whispered gently with his mellow, sleepy tone of voice, "When are they leaving?"

“We’re just going to have some tea and brownies, they’ll be on their way soon. Why do you ask?” You returned, asking in with a bit of hesitation in the back of you mind. Could it be he was overloaded enough, or did he not like your friends? You doubted the second one, since they had so much fun together. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

He didn’t further elaborate, ending the subject then and there with no other explanation. His intentions were unclear, as if he was hiding something from you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Hopefully not something shady, or would leave you with a bad image of Minho. Keep it simple, he was probably tired and he needed a bit more peace and quiet. And he couldn't get any peace and quiet if your friends were here, right?

You wanted him to take off his shirt, take every single piece of fabric on his body off, let you admire all of his grace and beauty. Occupied with drooling over your housemate, the teapot seemed to had slipped your mind.

"Fuck!" Yelped you, the heat of the hot tea finally burned your skin.

Hearing pain from your voice, Minho and the others were already there to aid you. Especially Minho, he grabbed your hand into his as soon as he noticed. Luckily for you, the injury was minor and running it through cool water was good enough.

Minho really has you in a chokehold, metaphorically speaking obviously—unless. If you two did become a thing, would it be a little awkward? Maybe not for Jisung, but you were unsure of how or what to think in a situation like this. Though, despite how much you might try to push the idea away due to having quite a lot of repect for your best friend, you couldn't help yourself.

Seduction existed in his eyes and body language, it was subtle yet effective. An absolute disaster that the two of you also lived together, which pumped you up with an amount of hormone that a high-school student would have.

The way he dressed may be ordinary, office worker fashion. His shoulders flexing in his fitted button-up, straight dress pant hugging his thighs. His thick frame glasses further accentuated his winsome features. There was no exaggeration that he, for a definite, has a lot of admirers from work. You too, would be weak on your knees if Minho was your colleague.

It was around eight o’ clock by the time you finished up, which wasn’t late—at least to your definition—but tomorrow was still a work day. Especially for Hyunjin, who was flying out of the country for a business trip, of which it was crucial for him to leave early morning for his flight.

“I’m catching a cab home.” Jisung answered when you asked him how he was going to get home without a car, since the other two already left on their separate ways.

“No, I’ll drive you home.” You offered kindly.

“You drank a lot tonight, you really shouldn’t be driving, [Y/N].” Jisung denied, pointing out the slight alcoholic haze you were in. He wasn’t wrong, you were a literally beast with the bottle. However, you were awake enough to still talk normally and sort of think, like being half asleep.

Reassuring you that he would be fine on his own, and that he would be sure to text you when he arrived at his place. You knew Jisung for too long for you to be worried about him on trivial things, it simply felt like the right thing or a common habitual saying you had going on. You just wanted to take extra precautions since you both had been drinking the whole night, and there were quite a lot of problems existing because of it.

"Don't worry about me too much," Jisung soothed you once more. However he had no regards for what a sentimental moment that was happening between the two of you, immediately back to his ways of joking to dilute the air. "You should be worrying about if Minho can keep his dick in his pants near you."

You smacked him on his shoulder, "Shut up, he's right over there!"

"I mean...I see the way y'all look at each other, we all know, [Y/N]." He commented, giving you a playful look. You wanted to murder Jisung, and you would make it look like an accident too. Were you being that obvious about your feelings? But the way Minho acted around you didn't help too!

Jisung waved goodbye to you and to Minho—who was in the kitchen, washing up dishes and shot glasses. "I'll see you on Saturday for coffee if you can even get out of bed, bye!"

Nodding, as you watched him walk away from your apartment to the main elevator, realization hit later than expected. You yelled out in annoyance but Jisung would definitely laughed it off and ignore you. "Hey, we're not fucking!"

You had to stay up to finish a few reports and lone documents, so that meant you wouldn't be able to see Minho during his morning coffee. Coming over to offer another hand in cleaning up, it wasn't a big mess but was a mess nonetheless. You might take care of everything for Minho to get some well-deserved rest that he has been needing.

Minho turned around as he felt a tap on his shoulder, "Let me take it from here, you should be getting ready for bed by now."

"No, I'll help." Minho single-mindedly refused your offer. "And too, I can't sleep with this raging boner you gave me."

Too sudden, too out of nowhere, your neck snapped to him when you heard him said those words. His expression was neutral, as natural as if he had said and had done nothing wrong. Still washing dishes and bowls, scrubbing and rinsing like he has been doing the same thing for years. Did he heard himself at least, or was it a thought that went loose.

"Oh, sorry." What the fuck were you supposed to reply to that? Thank you? Was that a compliment in disguise of some sort? Feuling the fire even more, the desires becoming stronger and intense, he had agreed to throw away his principles already.

Minho inched closer to you, his eyes on yours as he asked nicely for attention. "If I tell you that I want to fuck you right here right now, would you be mad?"

Face flushed, hot as when you would place your hand on your tea cup to check the temperature. He was evil, disregarding your state of mental stability by saying things of the same kind so out of pocket. He, for a fact, waited for the right time to confess his sins. The kettle was boiling all night, the heat and steams were his deepest thoughts.

You turned off the sink, your hands cool and wet and smell of dish soap from the water. For a split moment, you were solely looking at each other, begging either one to make a move. Minho leaned in towards your direction, his bare forearms brushed gently against yours. The alcohol in both of your bodies made the moment all the more intimate, slowly yet steadily closing your distance between each other, breaking down the wall of sexual tension you had unconsciously built that stood with all its might.

The faint taste of his strawberry chapstick on your tongue, his lips was a little sticky but so soft that you didn’t quite mind. There was no way of stopping him, as you too, did not want to stop the thrill ride that was ongoing. Letting out heavy breaths as he sucked dark red marks onto your skin, lips painting your blank canvas. May he be the only alcohol you would get drunk on, let you drink him up like your sorrows and distress.

“Oh, Minho.” You breathed, moaning out his name as his hands rushing to take off your pants. Hot tongue making a line on your stomach down to your sex, freely as his mouth worked on you like how you dearly enjoyed his food. Both your legs resting on his broad shoulders just did nothing but helped spread you wider.

Your sweet voice singing out to encourage him, using his tongue in all directions that favoured you. Stomach knotting with alcohol and dinner and a heaven he had created for you, coming onto his lips, a result of prolonged temptations.

Every fabric that touched yours and his bodies that day were all scattered on the floor by second round. Never even seen your best friend naked, and here you were admiring his ex-boyfriend’s entire unclothed figure with no ounce of shame left in yourself. You could not keep your hands away from him, so greedily touching him in different places.

Neither could wait any longer, deciding to lay each other’s pride out on the dining table. Minho placed his lips on yours, closing his eyes yet still seeing the vivid image of you in his dark mind. With each passing second, his cock making its way into the very depths of you. You hugged him quite tightly, as if you haven’t scored anyone in a while.

Your eyes told him everything he needed to know, you body twitching and squirming under his embrace, the silent language that told him every one of your secrets. Thrusting faster and harder, wanting to hear you make some more music for his aching soul. Minho grabbed your legs, pushing them against your torso as his cock went deeper into you. You could barely keep your eyes open, or could you stay present with him. This pleasure felt like a dream, a dream that softly pulled you in.

Minho kissed your lips once again, “Baby, don’t sleep on me, I’m not done with you just yet.”

But as much confidence that he may has in him, he was nearing his high and coming apart for you along the way. Minho’s vocals were heavenly when he sang for you, and were just as heavenly when he came into you. He kept going despite being out of breath and tired for you, he started something and he was going to finish it.

Second time felt much more powerful than the first, almost like he gave his all. You could feel his seeds dripping out from inside of you, onto the dining table and even the chairs. Dirtying everything all over again, now you had more cleaning to add onto your list. Guessed neither of you were going to get any sleep tonight.

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

"He is half of my soul, as the poets say"

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader sees something on a job which got her realising life is too short

Warnings: angst, trauma, description of dead, english is not my native language

Word Count: 4.3k

The cold was slowly creeping up on you, and the sight before you could only mean one thing, you were dreaming, dreaming a nightmare.

The day started like every other, you all slept till noon and then George went to the Archive to collect information for your new case while Lucy, Lockwood and you prepared everything else.

The sun was already slowly setting and was turning everything around you into a dim light when you all met up with George. “Around sixty years ago, the house was owned by a young couple, Andrew and Mary Hoffman. They were brutally murdered by robbers.” George told the team as you entered said house.

The new owners had no connection to the killed couple, they weren’t even sure if it was one or two ghosts. They only reported that the living room and the second bedroom upstairs were colder than the rest of the house; two weeks ago at night, the rooms became so cold that the windows were freezing and they could see their own breath. This, plus a dreadful feeling, had brought the owners to Lockwood & Co. to get rid of their ghost problem.

You joined Lockwood & Co. half a year ago. Since then, your team had become your best friends, and you trusted them with your life. Of course, with Lockwood & Co. often times things took a turn that really nobody expected, but they had your back and you had theirs, so you knew that it didn’t matter what the night had in store, Lockwood & Co. would ace it.

With this in mind, you followed your team inside the kitchen. Like every good team, you knew your ins and outs, so you didn’t need to talk to know that it was your job to make tea while Lockwood searched for biscuits. You had like fifteen minutes before the darkness would settle upon East London, which was also enough time for a cup of tea and one or maybe two biscuits.

While you were busy preparing each cup of tea the way each member of Lockwood& Co. liked it, Lockwood found what he was looking for. And when he happily declared that the new owners had the good kind of biscuit, you couldn’t help but smile. Lockwood’s happiness always got you beaming, when he was happy, you were happy, probably because you were such good friends. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you were lying at night in your bed and couldn’t sleep because you were too busy thinking about how the laugh of your boss sounded or how his skin felt on yours when you accidentally touched at the kitchen table when you both were reaching for the same item. Maybe if you would stop for a moment and think about it, you would realise that you were head over heels in love with your boss and landlord, but for you denial was not just a river in Egypt.

“The police suspected Mary was killed first, they found her body in the living room. Andrew was found upstairs in the open door of the bedroom. They assumed, he heard the gunshot which killed Mary and wanted to see what happened”, George shared his grim research, and you pushed his cup over the counter to him. As thanks, he gave you a quick nod.

“So, we should split up”, Lockwood appeared next to you and cool like always he leaned against the kitchen counter. This was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It felt like every minute, it would just jump out of your ribcage.

“George and I, and you and Y/N, like always?”, asked Lucy sipping her tea.

Lucy was the best listener you ever met; Lockwood’s talent was great sight. You were like George; you got a bit of everything. You could see ghost, but no death-glow. You could hear the voices of visitors, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. Only your touch was better than average and saved you from the fate of a night watch kid. Sometimes when you touch something ghost infected, you could see, hear, and feel important moments of the ghost’s life. For you, these visions often felt like minutes, but it was only a few seconds.

But in Lockwood’s humble opinion, a few second were enough for you to get ghost-touched. For someone so reckless, he was terribly worried about your safety. Therefore, you got into more than one argument about this issue. If Lockwood had his way, you would sit back home, while your team was fighting ghost without you. But that was no life you wanted to live, and you made this clear. If Lockwood would ever force you to stay back at Portland Row, you would leave Lockwood and Co. This was the argument, which always won you the fight. When he couldn’t keep you safe by leaving you back home, Lockwood insisted, that on missions you always stayed by his side. He was the best swordsman of you four, so he was the best fit to protect you and himself from getting ghost-touched. You didn’t mind. It was nice to work close with Lockwood, when he wasn’t plunging himself head first into danger. But Lucy once claimed, with knowing smirk in her face, that he was doing it less, since you joined the agency.   

It was no surprise to everyone, that he agreed with Lucy, and before you knew it, you were standing in the living room. One look at your watch confirmed what you already felt, every minute the last light of the sun would disappear, and the night would begin. Unconsciously wrapping your jacket tighter around your frame, your fingers fiddled with your belt, trying to remove the thermometer.

You weren’t nervous-no- you weren’t more nervous than on any other mission. Of course, you didn’t know which kind of ghost you would encounter this night, but you were positive that you could handle it. To fail in front of Lockwood wasn’t an option.

Finally freeing the thermometer from your belt, you began to start tracking the temperature. This was your job, while Lockwood was kneeing in the middle of the room, probably examining the death-glow.

The closer you got to the fireplace, where the remains of a long-forgotten fire lay, the colder it became. When you came to a stop in front of the fireplace, your hair stood up, and you couldn’t help but tremble. Closing your eyes, you put your hand on the old stones of the fireplace, expecting them to be cold, but they were nicely warm.

“How odd”, you muttered, before you were hit by a vision.

The first you picked up was the warm, it was a stark contrast to the cold, you were feeling just seconds ago. You were still standing in the same spot in the same room, but beside the fireplace everything was different. The furniture and décor were an older style, bright sunlight shone through the window, and everything screamed home.

In the middle of the room, a couple were slow dancing to “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” from The Shirelles, they were laughing and the happiness they were emitting was luring you in. You couldn’t help but also smile, and for a moment you forget that this wasn’t real. As if you were under a spell, you watched the couple in awe and as he spun her around, you saw his face for the first time.

You inhaled sharp. This face in front of you, you would recognize everywhere. The man looked exactly like how you imagine Lockwood would look in maybe four or five years. He was dressed in the fashion of the 60s, and his eyes shined full of love. You could watch him like this forever.

Narrowing your eyes, you tried to get a better look at his dance partner. She had light brown hair and wore a pretty yellow dress. The pair did another turn, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. The woman in Lockwood’s arm were you. She was exactly looking like you. Maybe a few years older and a lot happier.

Lockwood was gazing at her like she was his world, and you would have given everything that your Lockwood would looking at you like he was looking at her. You would kill for it. As this thought plopped up in your head, the world around you shifted.

In one moment, everything around you were bright and warm in the next moment you stood in the dark lifeless living room and the cold rushed over you, like somebody emptied a bucket full of ice water over your head.

A bad taste in your mouth and a creeping feeling of dread was all the warning you got, but it was also all the warning you needed. Pulling out your rapier, you spun around to come face to face with the ghost of Mary Hoffmann. But what you saw let you freeze like a stone statue. You weren’t ghost-locked, you just couldn’t believe it. It was like looking into a mirror, just that the own reflection was dead.

Shortly the thought, that the ghost was playing with you, crossed your mind, but that was not how your visions worked. Mary looked exactly like she had in the vision; she was your Doppelgänger.

Tearing your eyes from the sight, you never wanted to see in your life, you looked to Lockwood. Normally Lockwood tried to look cool, calm, collected, but right now his eyes darted between you and the ghost, not believing what he saw.

Nobody of you were moving, the ghost looked at you and when your eyes locked you couldn’t even lift a finger. You could feel her sadness and her grieve. But under all there was anger, an anger you could understand all too well. Maybe you didn’t know how it felt to lose your own life, but you already felt the grieve and anger after you lost a loved one.

“Darling, please step back slowly”, Lockwood tried to sound calm, but you could see right through it. But his voice had always the same effect on you, it brought you back.

Removing your gaze from the ghost in front of you, your eyes met Lockwood’s. That was enough to stop the growing panic. He was here with you, nothing too bad would happen.

Clutching your rapier like your life depended on it, you followed Lockwood’s order. Slowly you took a step back, then another till your back hit the wooden shelf of the fireplace. All the time you watched the ghost cautious, waiting for it to attack you. But Mary only followed curious your movement until you touched the wood.

It was like you flipped a switch. In one moment, she was peaceful, in the next she wasn’t any more. With a high wail she lunged for you, and before you could react Lockwood was there, his rapier slicing through her. Ectoplasm splattered around, and a few drops hit your boots. And the ghost? She vanished but both of you were agents and knew that it was only a matter of time, that she would reappear. Time you could use to search for the source.

“Are you OK?”, Lockwood sounded concerned.

Like the liar you were, you sent him a small smile, “Sure.”

Of course, you weren’t OK, not after seeing this. But you were too professional, to let it affect your work. Therefore, you took a deep breath and tried to slow your thoughts. First came the work and when you survived the night, you could handle your feelings.

You weren’t new to this field, your experience told you, that it wasn’t a coincidence that Mary acted up as you touched the wood. Her source had to be close. A short look at Lockwood confirmed your suspicion.

“We should lay out the chains”, Lockwood suggested, and you nodded. Both of you knew, that there was no guarantee what would happen, if you touched the source and to find it you had to touch it. Also, there was the possibility, that the ghost was out to get you. Maybe it also realized that you both were a lookalike and now wanted to kill you for it.

“I grab them and Darling, remember no matter what happens, I have your back.”

While Lockwood laid out the chains, he insisted on doing it, you stood with raised rapier next to him, ready to fight off the ghost, if it would appear. But you both were lucky; Mary didn’t show up.

Now you stood inside the iron chains, slowly reaching out to touch the wood a second time. You could feel it, you were so close. Closing your eyes for better concentrating, you carefully let your hands wander over the shelf. When you touched to deep cuts in the wood, which awfully resembled the letters A and M, you knew, that you found it. But before you could inform Lockwood, another vision came crashing over you like a wave and pulled you under.

You were in the same room as in the last vision. But now it was night, and you were looking down the barrel of a gun. Her angst, your angst, was all consuming. Your whole body was shacking.

“Please”, her and at the same time also your voice, was not more than a whisper.

That was all you needed to realize, that in this vision you weren’t just watching her, you were her. And now you would learn how it felt like to die. A small tear ran down your cheek, and you didn’t know if it was Mary or you, who was crying.

Before you could beg again, the robber pulled the trigger. The pain you felt as the bullet priced your flesh was worse than anything you had experienced before. Falling to the floor, you wanted to scream, but the only sound which left your mouth was a quit whimper.

You could feel the warm blood rushing out of your body and starting to form a puddle beneath you. You were too young to die. You had so much you wanted to do, you had so many people you had so say goodbye to. You just couldn’t leave George, Lucy and him- oh you would miss him so much.

With the last of your strength, you tried pressing down on your wound. Burning hot pain shot through your body. But still your warm blood was running through your finger, and you were running out of time. Any breath could be your last one. Everything was cold and you were so tired. You would love nothing more, than to just close your eyes, so you did. Your lungs took their last breath, and then you died.

Just to suddenly standing next to Marys/ your dead body. There was only one thing worse than seeing your own ghost, and that was seeing your own lifeless body. By the sight in front of you, your blood was running cold, and you felt like throwing up.

“Darling, everything alright? What was this noise?”, you heard Lockwood’s voice from above. The robber exchanged looks before they followed his voice upstairs.

Knowing what was to come, your whole body went stiff.

No-no-no-no, that could not happen. You couldn’t let him die. Panicking, you searched for something, that could be used as a weapon, but when you tried to reach for the poker, your hand just went through. In this vision, you were the ghost, you couldn’t change anything.

You jumped when two shots rang out, another tear was running down your cheek. Damn, you knew that you didn’t want to see it, but you couldn’t help it.

Rushing up the stairs, there he was lying. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling; all sparks long gone from them. Your legs gave up under you and with a loud wail you felt to the floor. You were wrong earlier; the worst sight of your life was Lockwood’s dead body here in front of you. And you would never fully recover from it.

You were still crying ugly when you came back. When you said yes to this job, you really didn’t expect to get so traumatised. Your heart was beating so fast like you just ran a marathon. Trembling all over, you allowed yourself a quick look over your shoulder.

There he stood, with his back to you, he was facing the room. His rapier was resting in his hands, while he tried to look less tense than he was feeling. Relief flooded through you at the sight of him. It hasn’t been real, he was alive. You suppressed a loud sob and forced yourself to appear calm on the outside, even if there was a storm raging inside.

“I found the source, do you have a crowbar?”, hearing the sound of your voice, Lockwood turned around, which was a bad mistake.

Of course your luck just ran out and Mary decided, that this was the best moment to reappear again. Would it be a typical mission for Lockwood and Co. if something like this wouldn’t happen? You guessed not.

Seeing her appear right behind Lockwood, her arm outstretched, gave you a heart attack.       

They say when something terrible happens, you witness it in slow motion. But that wasn’t true for you. It always happened so fast.

“Watch out”, you yelled, while your hands worked hastily to pull out a salt bombe out of your jacket pocket. While Lockwood spun around and only escaped the ghost-touched by jumping back, you threw the bomb. It hit Mary right in the chest, and with a high-pitched wail she backed off.

“I will fend her off”, without warning, Lockwood threw with his free hand his crowbar to you. Luckily for you, you caught it.

To be completely honest, this was a shitty job. You hated it with all your bones. If it were up to you, this night couldn’t end fast enough.

So you took Lockwood’s crowbar and bought it down onto the shelf with all your anger bundled and a roar of frustration. Two hits were enough to cause the part of the wood with the initials to splinter.

Behind you, you heard Lockwood taunting the ghost to distract her from you. Because one thing for sure, Mary hated what you were doing to her source.

There was no reason for you to drag this out any longer. Therefore, you took your silver net and threw it over the little piece of wood, you broke off. In an instance, the chaos stopped.  

“Are you alri-”, Lockwood never got to finish his sentence, he got too distracted from the loud pounding footsteps, which were running down the stairs.

The next moment, Lucy appeared in the doorway.

“Thank god, you are alive”, with a relived sigh, she threw her arms around Lockwood. Confused, his eyebrows raised.

Would it be any other day, you might have become jealous at the sight in front of you- you could never hug Lockwood light this- but this job had been hell. You only felt tired, so tired.

“We were fighting against a ghost, which looked exactly like you”, Lucy added when she realised how confused Lockwood looked. You already put two and two together, thanks to your visions.

“And suddenly he just vanished, did you found both sources by any chance?”, George chimed in as he entered the room.

“Quite possible”, picking up the silver net, you were careful not expose the source.

“Here”, without further ado, you handed the net into George’s unexpected hand. You wanted nothing more to do with it.

Not waiting for his response, you pushed past him and rushed out of the house. You knew that it wasn’t your smartest move to just run out of a house in the middle of the night. But you still had your rapier and you needed fresh air.

Trembling all over, you took a deep breath. What the hell had been this shit show? And why had they looked exactly like Lockwood and you? You wanted to cry, but you hadn’t any tears left. Wiping your cheeks to remove the salty remains, you crumbled a little. You could still feel the warm blood on your hands, you could still see Lockwood lying dead in front of you.

But before you could collapse, you heard steps behind you. Turning your head, you saw Lockwood hurrying to you. Without saying anything, he pulled you in his warm embrace, and you melted under his touch. Laying your head against his chest, your hands griped his coat, like you were afraid he would leave you. You could hear his hearth racing, and you were sure, that your heart was beating even faster.

Like this, you stayed for what felt like forever. It seemed like both of you wanted to make sure, that what happened inside the house wasn’t more than a bad dream. As if you stayed long enough like this, you could undo what you had seen insight.

After a moment Lockwood broke the silence, “For a second I thought you were her and that you-”, right in the middle he stopped, and you looked up into his pained face.

This was the moment, that you realised, how close you were. You would just have to stand on your tiptoes and your lips would be brushing his. But you didn’t dare. What if he didn’t like you as much as you like him? Then you try to kiss him, ruining everything.

“I never felt such relief in my life when I saw you standing there”, pausing, Lockwood also seemed to realise in which position you both were. Blushing, he took a step back, and you wanted to scream.

“Darling, will you be OK after tonight?” Certainly not. Maybe you put a stop to the haunting, but for sure her memories will haunt you.           

To 85.66% you were sure, that after this night Lockwood told the rest of the team, that you both had fought against your lookalikes. You could see it in the pitiful glances they gave you.

The first days after the job, you mainly spend in your room. At the latest, when you didn’t protest when Lockwood suggested that you stay home for the next job, everyone knew that something was wrong with you.

Every night in your dreams, you and Lockwood died again and again. Every night you woke up heavily panting, and your bed was soaked with sweat. Rational, you knew that neither you nor Lockwood had died, but it had felt so real.

Even when the light was shining through your window, you felt the adrenalin pumping through your veins, ready to fight or flight. The worst part was, that you knew your fear wasn’t so wrong. As an agent, every job could be your last. A little slip up and you could be dead.

To distract yourself, you tried to think of reasons why Mary and Andrew Hoffman looked exactly like you and Lockwood.

One time you read, that every person had seven doppelgängers, but the probability that your lookalike married Lockwood’s was so low. There must be another explanation, you just knew it.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the knock on your door. Only when Lockwood entered your room, you got brought back.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”, you asked the first thing, that came into your mind, before he could say anything.

Taken by surprise, he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of your room.

“I-I- I mean”, he stuttered, and slowly a blush began creeping up his face. From the eloquent Lockwood you often watched was no sign to see.

“Are you thinking about them?”, he asked instead of answering your question. He didn’t even have to say their names for you to know who he was talking about.

“Yes, they got me thinking. How odd it is that both were our lookalikes?”

“And they married each other.” Lockwood’s brown eyes met yours and your heart stopped.

“Yes, and they married each other”, you repeated breathless, while Lockwood came closer.

“May I?”, before you knew it, he was sitting next to you on the bed. Only now did you realize he had swapped his fine suit for a simple grey jumper. If it was even possible, your heart started to beat even faster. Discreetly, you tried to wipe off your sweaty hands on your leggings.

Hoping to gain control over your own body again, you took a deep breath. “You didn’t answer my first question, do you believe in reincarnation?”

Nervously, you bit on your lips, and Lockwood’s eyes followed the movement before his eyes lingered.

While fidgeting with his hands, Lockwood cleared his throat. Never before you saw him so nervous.

“I would like to believe that my soul will always find yours, no matter when and where we are.”

He was looking anywhere but at you. Which was fine, totally fine, because you looked like an idiot.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Or was it just wishful thinking?

The last job has showed you, that the life could be awfully short, you could die any time. Sometime love was worth taking a risk on and if you knew one thing it was, that you loved the reckless idiot in front of you.

Gripping his jumper, you brought his lips down to yours. First, he wasn’t kissing back, and you were scared, that you did a big mistake. But then he returned the kiss, and you felt like flying.

Far too quickly you separated and breathless you gazed into each other eyes.

“I would also like to believe that my soul will always find yours.”    

[faustquillpen]

Apollo Justice x Reader from Apollo's POV, writing style to emulate the game

Warnings for death mentions, injury mentions, pretty much what you would expect from the game. Let me know if I need to tag more.

[There will be a dog mentioned in the story, but a cat or other pet can fit too if the reader desires!]

Chapter 1: Ruff Day (sfw)

|Prev| |Next|

Apollo: Red

Apollo's thoughts/muttering: (Red with parentheses)

Trucy: Blue

Reader: Purple

-----

N - No! Get away from me!

Heheh, I'm just tryna get a lookacha

Fuck off!

Augh....!

Crash!

Is he... Dead?

Someone call the cops, I saw them push that dude!

No! He must've lost his footing or something, please...!

----

April 18th, 7:00 AM

Wright Anything Agency

New case, Apollo! But you miiight not like it...

(It's been a bit since the last case... Whatever it is it's better than cleaning this place for the 100th time) Oh yeah?

Yeah... They denied it at first, but now they're saying it was them! Daddy thinks they're hiding something... And Daddy usually is good at guessing!

(Hiding something by taking credit for a murder? That doesn't seem right.)

He was some sorta creep anyway, the "victim" I mean. Known for harassing people of all genders. A sleezeball with a record.

(Sigh, I guess it's better than nothing.) I'll at least talk to them I guess. Your Dad better be right about this though.

He's always Wright! ... Eh? Eeeh???

Shut up. You've used that joke before.

----

April 18th, 7:35 AM

Detention Center

Visitor's Room

Well, we're here.

I wonder where the defendant is?

....!

(Oh!! It's... I-it's)

You're that sweet guy I met last week ... Apollo I think?

(They remembered my name!!!!!) OH hey!!! (oh no oh no oh no I am not prepared for this!!!)

Ummm...

(Oh yeah! This must seem weird) Oh! I'm a defense attorney!!! Defense attorney Apollo Justice that's me hah

You mean Jupollo Astice...?

(shut up shut up shut up shut up)

*Giggles*

(Oh no, they're still really cute...!)

Ah-em. I'm Trucy, the best assistant and magician, and we're gonna defend you!

(Wait I hadn't agreed to that yet!!! I... Can I defend someone who I feel this way about...? It's so hard to focus when they're around... Augh!!! They're looking at me again!)

But I uh... I really did it. Yeah.

Hmmmm kinda sus to me, bro

(They won't look me in the eye, there's something extra going on here... How can I show them I know for sure they didn't do it?)

[Present Paper Ladybug]

Take That!

Huh? Oh! It's...

Do you remember this?

Y... Yes

You cried when you thought you killed a bug. I really don't think you'd ever be able to kill a person.

Okay... *Sigh* I'll tell you the truth. It happened at around 3 in the morning at my apartment, I had invited him in since he was the landlord and said he needed to fix something. He started to try to touch and flirt with me... It was.... It was my dog... They were protecting me! The police will kill them if they find out!!!

(The... Dog...?)

Awww, so you're trying to protect your puppy!

I don't want [Dog name] to be punished!! They were protecting me from that creep!!! But he fell over from the momentum when they bit him on the arm... Plus...

Plus?

I heard... There was a witness walking past my open door who said I pushed him into the table on purpose...

(Liar!!!)

Woah Apollo, you look really intense right now! Like you're gonna rip off a chunk of the table!

Oh-uh... S-sorry (I guess I just got really mad for a second...)

Woah... Cool...

(... They think I'm cool!!!!? F-face... Flushing... I think I hear Trucy snickering at me...)

So... You're going to defend me then?

YESOFCOURSE IfYoullHaveMe... You don't have to say yes or anything ahah...

... I.. I'd really like that...

OKAY!!! *cough* Okay. We'll uh... Start on the investigation and... See you tomorrow!!!! Aaaah!!!

Well... There he goes... Well! Goodbye [name]! Don't worry, we'll get you an innocent verdict!

I... I trust you guys. Thank you. Oh and uh... Will you go to my apartment please? My poor dog is probably hungry and confused....

Sure thing!

----

April 18th, 9 AM

[Name's] Apartment Complex

So... Why exactly are we here?

Well, you'd know if you weren't such a dork and ran off!

... I... Had a thing I had to do, okay!!!

Apollo, I found you holding your chest trying to calm your breathing down right outside the detention center.

... Shut up.

Heheh, whatever you say.

(Why me...)

Okay, we're here! They said the food was on top of the fridge...

(Food...? I thought we were watering some plants of someth-- EEK)

Woof

(That's the murder dog!!!! And it's... Licking Trucy's face and wiggling)

Wuf wuf!

Hehe! They said you were sweet as long as we were friendly. Good dog!

(I guess I'll keep this in mind in case I need to "defend" the dog too...)

Snooping time!

Wh- Nonononono we can't!!!

Ooh, a diary~

Put it down put it down put it down put it down

C'mon Polly, maybe it'll give us info on the night of the murder! If could be important! We'd of read it during any other investigation! If you didn't have a crush on the defendant.

IDONTHAVEA--

Awww, the night of the murder is blank. Hmmm....

Trucy. Seriously. It's not right to go through it

Relaaaaax, I'm just looking for one particular day... Ah! Here it is

Trucy....

April 6th....

...!

Went to the art fair today, got some cute dog sculptures.... Blah blah...

We really should put it down--

... Aaaand today I met a really cute guy!

WHAT?! LEMMESEE!!!!

Oh yeah?? What about it being wrong? Heheh

Well-- it is but I... ugh

Hahaha! Your face is soooo red!!! Anyways I was joking, this is a completely blank notebook.

Oh.

Aw, now I feel bad. You look like you just deflated. ... Just kidding it's hilarious.

Mehhhh...

[End Chapter]

Next chapter will be a nsfw fantasy/dream so I have an excuse to do nsfw before you two actually have time alone together!!! WOO!!

[thefandomcassandra]

hallowed be thy unknown Ch5: Tokusatsu Haunting 1: Sea Bindweed and Sensitive Plant

Maya was getting a headache. Words swam in front of her eyes, black ants crawling across a white sand pit. She wanted to bury herself alive and sink into nothingness.

"Maya, c'mon now, answer me."

She groaned as Nick called to her, phasing through the kitchen table so he sort-of blocked her view of the offending textbook. "Why though?"

"Because you promised. We get through ten of these and you're free until lunchtime. You've got three more." He could cajole as much as he wanted, she wasn't going to like it any more even if he begged her.

"But it sucks and it's early and I've barely eaten and—"

"And this week's episode of Steel Samurai is on the DVR and if you finish this we can watch and you can explain to me why you like it after you've digested the story for an hour or so." Stubborn ass.

"Fine..." Maya blinked until the words on the paper resolved themselves into something readable. "So the difference between battery and assault is actually injuring someone or not. Assault is threatening, battery is attacking, but both can be charged as a felony if a firearm or other illegal weapon is used during the act."

"Larceny, burglary, and robbery?"

More terms. "Larceny is just theft—taking things from people. Grand or minor larceny based on how much was stolen, what have you. Burglary is forcing entry to a place and stealing, whether or not someone is there. Robbery is stealing using force, like mugging someone could be charged as either theft and assault or robbery depending on things, right?"

"If you're lucky and have a good defense or a bad prosecutor, yeah. It's usually charged as robbery since intent to harm while stealing is as good as causing harm while stealing. They don't differentiate between assault and battery where theft is concerned." Nick seemed amused that she had even thought about that. "One more and this one is easy: manslaughter and murder."

It sure was easy. "Murder requires intent to kill, whether planned or in the heat of the moment. Manslaughter is an act, violent or otherwise, that results in death, like a hit and run. Aren't they a little nebulous though?"

"Yeah. You can argue second-degree murder down to manslaughter, you can argue manslaughter caused through planned battery up to first-degree murder. It's all how you spin it and how the court views the actions taken. Self defense usually is manslaughter." He frowned as he thought something over. "But, again, it's a little wiggly, like you said."

"Which was bad for me and good for Prosecutor Edgeworth, not that he won..." Maya mumbled as she laid her head down on her arms. She could feel Nick's piercing gaze, the unspoken admonishment let to drift in the wind.

She'd done as was asked, hadn't she? Maya rolled her head so she could give Nick puppy-dog-eyes.

He snorted and floated down so he looked like he was sitting at the table with her. "That is all ten."

"So I can watch my taped episode?"

"Breakfast, dishes, then yes." Wow, thanks mom.

"I'm only doing this because you'll haunt me well into the night if I don't, mister incorporeal." Maya stood up and popped her back, sighing in amusement. Living with a ghost wasn't the most normal circumstances but after...everything, it was a welcome oddity. A comforting weirdness. Nick kept her in line, made sure she did all the proper adult things to keep up and running, and she kept him focused on the now with her company.

After the trial ended, it took a week or so before the Fey & Co. Law Office was cleared out and available as a working space again—after a very thorough cleaning courtesy of the state, of course. During that week or so, Maya tended to Mia's funeral and estate—nobody came to the former, she was the sole inheritor when it came to the latter. Getting access to Mia's apartment through her—Maya's now, really—landlord was a mess but she moved in as soon as she could and tried to not break down every time she opened a cabinet and saw Mia's coffee cups.

Barely a few days after everything was sorted and Maya had begun making the apartment more her living space than a museum to her sister, a call came in on the office line and Maya was summoned to testify in court in the case of the State v. Redd White.

Being on the witness stand was significantly different than being on the defendant's chair or in the defendant's bench. It was nerve-wracking, sure, but Prosecutor Edgeworth was somehow more tolerable when she wasn't the one in his crosshairs. It was almost amusing to watch the rich, well-to-do lawyer trip over their expensive brand name shoes to try and talk down the charges.

Maya's testimony, the pictures of her face taken after the trial, Gumshoe's corroboration, several anonymous (or redacted) reports of threats and blackmail, and April May's affidavit regarding her employment with Bluecorp and its inner working all dug him a one-way ticket to jail for life. If he was lucky, he'd never leave.

He looked defeated as they hauled him off to ship him from the center to the prison. Maya couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for him.

Becoming an accredited defense attorney was the difficult part of the whole plan. Proving she had been homeschooled in what constituted as a traditional territory and providing proof of residency in Kurain was most of the legwork. With proof in hand, and permission from the Bar Association to take it out of season, the test was comically easy in comparison. Nobody needed to know she cheated, either! She was sworn in a few days ago and had even gone out and bought some new casual clothes to celebrate! She had real lawyer outfits that wouldn't get her stared at in the court!

Then she realized that being a defense attorney was a lot of waiting for someone to call your office to ask you to help them, instead of the more active lie she'd been believing. So most of her days were spent studying the well-worn law books Mia had in her office while Nick quizzed her to make sure she was retaining what she read. It was boring, for sure, but it was a new type of boring.

(Maya kept expecting Aunt Himiko to call but she never did. Neither did Pearl, but that was less Pearl's fault and more likely Aunt Himiko being a little controlling. Sometimes she got nauseatingly homesick and would leave Japanese dramas on TV in the background for the simple comfort of hearing people talk in Japanese. Nick always looked uncomfortable, like he wasn't sure how to handle her when she got like that but she wasn't something that needed to be handled, she just...needed a moment.)

Maya shoveled a spoonful of cereal in her mouth as she watched the Steel Samurai fight the Jade Turtle in his underwater palace. Despite how much she had been looking forward to this episode, her brain was still leaking out her ears. She couldn't focus on anything, even the things she liked.

Frustrated, Maya stopped the recording and threw on the news while she washed the dishes so Nick didn't complain all day. The weather looked like it was gonna be sunny for this time of year. That's nice.

Getting old snuck up on you, Maya determined. She had been living independently for a little over two months and she already cared about things like the weather. Yuck. Adding on worrying about bills and the idea that she had a commute to work now and she was seconds away from rapidly aging to dust.

Without cases coming in, Maya had to think about eventual second jobs—if things continued the way they were, that is. Like before, retail and customer service might not be good fits but they'd be easy to get. If she was going to work for minimum wage and maximum emotional distress, she'd like to work somewhere she doesn't hate but apparently Eldoon's wasn't hiring anyone since it was family-owned and her usual burger joint didn't need any more waitresses or hostesses.

Elbows-deep in bubbly warm water, Maya was startled out of her reverie by someone on TV saying the phrase 'Steel Samurai'. She tuned in on what the anchors were saying and was very glad she wasn't holding anything when she realized what was going on or she might've broken one of the nicer bowls.

The actor who played the Steel Samurai was just arrested for the murder of his coworker, the guy who played the Evil Magistrate. This had to be fate.

"Nick?!" One of the benefits to living alone was that she could openly talk to her ghost friend without worrying about someone staring. It didn't mean that her shouting across the apartment didn't startle him, however. Judging by the speed at which he flew through the bedroom wall, he must've thought she'd hurt herself or broken something. A fair assumption.

"What?" His blank eyes were wide, searching for whatever trouble she was in.

Maya waved at the TV. "Do you know what I heard?" When he didn't respond immediately, she continued, bouncing in place. "They arrested the Steel Samurai."

"The...character?" Nick seemed confused.

"The guy who plays him! They arrested him for murder!"

"Is that why you shrieked like you were dying?" Cute.

"No! No but like, Nick—" Was he not understanding what this meant? "—Nick he's in a holding cell right now! He's gonna need a lawyer!"

"Wh—Maya, this isn't some kind of game." He folded his arms and tilted himself so he was looking down his nose at her, stern. The whole effect was ruined by how he was dressed and it was undercut by the sharp spike of frustration that tore through Maya at his accusation.

"What makes you think I think it's a game?"

"I know you like the Steel Samurai but you've only been studying for a little while and—"

"Nick, I'm not playing. I'm accredited, aren't I?" Legally, yes. The technicality didn't matter much when she and Nick were a unit—a single lawyer. "And we haven't had a single client for the last month."

"Mia's clients were pretty sparse too—"

"Nick, I'm not Mia, I'm me. And I want to take this case." Maya made eye-contact with him and held it, an act he knew was a challenge. "I like the Steel Samurai, yeah, but I also want to help him. Don't I have the right to choose my clients too?"

Nick sighed and floated down a little bit so he was looking straight at her. "You're certain you want to do this?"

"Very."

"This is a murder case, like yours was. Do you think you can handle that?" He was being firm with her. He was almost never this firm. He was worried.

Could she handle a murder? She handled being on the stand for Redd White well enough. She hadn't broken down or cried or anything, had she? But defending someone for murder...that was a different beast.

She wanted to help him like his show had helped her. She nodded at Nick, who seemed to roll his thoughts around a bit before speaking again.

"In the chance that your client is guilty, what are you going to do?"

She hadn't thought about that. If he was guilty...would she still want to defend him? No, that wasn't the question. The question was: if he was guilty, what would she do, not would she continue to defend him. "I would try and work out a plea that satisfies both my client and the prosecution."

"And in the case that your client is innocent and you find yourself incapable of defending them properly?"

"I would suggest a different attorney and give all of my findings and documents to them." Because if she couldn't defend her client, she wanted her work to be worth something.

Nick closed his eyes for what felt like an eternity before he spoke again. "Okay." Approval. Yes! Before Maya could say anything in her excitement, he continued on. "But promise me you're going to be smarter about this one. No mouthing off to dangerous people this time. Gumshoe won't always be around to save you."

"Isn't he a homicide detective? He should be around."

"That's not the point. C'mon now, please?"

"Okay, okay." She wasn't sure why he was being so touchy about this. It's not like Redd White was going to kill her or anything. He was being a worrywart. "I promise I'll be safe."

"I'm serious. I might be around but I can't help if the problem is physical." He was still upset about the whole thing with Redd White then.

"I know." She did, really. She didn't blame him for his inability to interact with the physical world. It was part and parcel of being a ghost, after all. The fact that he was still around as a fuyūrei was nothing short of miraculous but miracles only went so far. Fate hadn't seen fit to make him a poltergeist. "I'll be smart."

That got a laugh out of him. "Sure you will." Even as he said it, however sarcastically, Maya could feel him relax. "Well the detention center opens at nine. That means we have two hours before we can see your Steel Samurai. Wanna finish the dishes and explain why you like it better than, say, Rainbow Warriors?"

Maya puffed her cheeks at him, pouting. "Rainbow Warriors is a show for babies and I will not have you slander the good streets of Neo Olde Tokyo with your bad taste." Even so, she continued on as she went back to the dishes, the tension dissipating, leaving behind anticipation.

Her first real client (maybe)! Her first not-herself client (possibly)! And it was the Steel Samurai! That was something to be proud of! She was gonna do great!

"I'm sorry..." Will Powers—the Steel Samurai actor—hunched in on himself and stared at a spot on the floor. For a man easily twice Maya's size, he sure was meek.

"Like I said before: it's no big deal. You never really appeared in public without the costume on so it was a surprise, nothing more." Maya waved her hand, trying to assuage his fears. He just whined a bit and hunched more in on himself.

Will Powers was somewhat of a Cowardly Lion sort, really. Despite his large size and intimidating stature, he tried to take up as little space as possible. He didn't like making eye-contact with Maya and barely spoke above a mumble. He was also barely older than Nick was when he died, which was the biggest shock—Will Powers looked very much like a man in his thirties but he was in his early twenties.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Nick muttered to himself, "but this certainly wasn't it."

"Powers-san," straight to business, no messing about for ol' Maya the Actual Lawyer™, "we've gotten a bit off-topic."

"Right."

"So you've been formally charged with the murder of your coworker, Jack Hammer, correct?" Nick had made sure she knew what Will Powers had been arrested for before they arrived at the detention center. Turns out, rote memorization of law did, in fact, carry over to a better short term memory recall. Who knew?

Will Powers nodded, his eyes swimming with tears. "But I didn't do it! I was napping at the time of the murder!"

"The problem, Powers-san, is that you have no alibi past your word." In her peripheral, Nick nodded at her in agreement. "That, unfortunately, won't fly in court." Not with the way the legal system was currently structured, or so Nick said.

"I know." He sounded defeated before the trial had even begun. "What else do I even have to offer? Apparently someone saw me out and about, even though I was sleeping in my dressing room!"

"Well, if you accept my services, then I would go investigate the crime scene and collect evidence to prove your innocence." Will Powers hadn't quite hired Maya yet but she was hopeful. That's part of why she was trying so hard to sound professional about it. Nobody would hire some kid but if she sounded like she knew what she was doing, then her age wouldn't matter.

Will Powers mulled over her offer, his brow furrowing while he pondered. When your life was on the line, rash decisions were a bad idea and he seemed like he was a cautious man to begin with. She didn't expect him to have an answer immediately but the fact that he hadn't been too bothered by her age when he was told a lawyer was here for him did wonders for her ego.

"He says he was asleep but someone saw him? That's strange." Nick was already running over the facts aloud, sitting cross-legged in the air while they waited for Will Powers to come to a conclusion. "An eyewitness account is damning but also it's a movie and TV set, isn't it? Costumes can't be hard to get duplicates of and wear around to falsify someone's position, can they?"

The Steel Samurai costume was a heavy number with a full mask. Most actors didn't like or were incapable of properly moving in costumes like that without extensive training, which is why the fact that Will Powers and Jack Hammer did their own stunts and fights was so fascinating. Sure, someone could steal a costume and wear it, but it'd be a heavy and claustrophobic thing tailored for a man of Will Powers' build and strength.

"Okay."

Maya's focus snapped to Will Powers. Wait...had he—? "Huh?"

"I'll hire you. You - you came to me, chose to believe in me with no proof. That's...even if you are a fan that's, uh, that means a lot." Despite the fact that he seemed so sure of his decision, Will Powers was still mumbling and muttering, his speech soft and unclear. But he had! He was hiring her! "So I'll be, uh, taking your services...after...all..."

"You won't regret it, Powers-san!" Maya almost leapt out of her chair. The larger man flinched back and Maya withdrew a bit so she wasn't upsetting him and pulled the paperwork for representation out of her sash. "If you could sign this after reading, I'll file this with the court and get to investigating right away."

Will Powers looked over the paperwork and quickly signed on the dotted line, sliding it back to her through the slot in the glass. "Th-thank you for this."

"Of course!" Maya beamed. That bolstered his spirits, it seemed, as he responded with an equally bright grin. "I'll keep you updated and, in the chance that I'm unable to come by again before visiting hours are over, we can discuss the details before your trial tomorrow. It's gonna be fine, Powers-san, I promise."

The smile he gave her felt tired but sincere. "Is there anything else I can - I can help you with?"

"Could I have your memory of the day of the murder?" Making sure she knew what his alibi was, how he remembers things, would be the base on which she builds her defense for him.

"Well, um, Hammer and I did a run-through of some of the action sequences starting around ten in the morning 'till noon. The usual type of, uh, work. After that, there was lunch and I guess I was more tired than I thought because while there was a rehearsal at five, I woke up too late to attend." He fiddled with his jacket sleeve, picking at a loose thread as he tried to organize his thoughts. It's not like being on that side of the visitor's glass was easy. Maya would know. "When I walked out, tripping over myself to try and attend rehearsal, they just...arrested me. I didn't find out Hammer had been killed until questioning."

Maya watched as Will Powers' face went blotchy, tears spilling down his cheeks as he tried to fight his emotions. He scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve, sniffling hard. Her heart went out to him; this wasn't easy for anyone, let alone the defendant of a murder case. The accused.

"They probably weren't nice about it either, were they?" Could he tell she was sympathizing with him? Could he tell she had been in his place only a month before?

A loud, snotty inhale and weak nod. "They ac-accused me of stabbing him!" His breathing was shuddering and slow as he tried to get himself calmed.

Maya caught Nick's eye. "You should ask more about the victim." She should. Knowing that might shed light on motive—or lack thereof.

"What was your relationship with Jack Hammer?"

That seemed to touch a weird nerve. Will Powers flinched a little and went back to staring at the floor, sniffling as he tried to get his emotions under control. "Jack and I...we weren't friends but - but I didn't hate him. Nobody did. We - we all mostly felt bad for him, considering..."

"Considering?" What did celebrity gossip have to do with this murder case?

"Well, I mean, before his role as the Evil Magistrate, he was a big action hero." A starstruck smile split Will Powers' face as he recounted his coworker's portfolio. "He's always worked for Global Studios—he's the most senior person there aside from the producer—but he never seemed...happy with his role? I dunno why he stayed."

"And you didn't get along?" The important part was whether or not her client had a motive.

"No, we got along fine. We never - never really interacted outside of a professional setting, is all..."

Nick hummed in thought. "So no direct conflict."

"Was there anyone who might have had an issue with Jack Hammer?" Maya pressed.

"Not anyone who'd kill him! He was Global Studio's darling!" Will Powers was affronted, raising his voice for the first time since she'd started talking with him. He was angry, not on his behalf, but on the behalf of someone else. Hm...

"Just checking! Thanks for your time." She waved her hand, clearing the air a bit, and gave Will Powers a soft smile. "See you later, Powers-san."

"Yeah, uh, um, bye."

Paperwork in hand, Maya felt light as a feather. Her first case—first real case—and she was defending the Steel Samurai! What a rush!

"You seem in high spirits." Nick laughed from his spot above her shoulder.

"Ha ha," Maya replied under her breath. "Very funny."

"No, but really: you look excited. Ready to do an investigation out of cuffs?"

"I'm ready to prove it wasn't just a flash in a pan, yknow?" The thought put some pep in her step. "Murder case or otherwise."

"Thoughts?"

"He didn't do it."

"You sound sure of yourself."

Maya fixed him with a flat stare. "Nick, did you see him? He could barely talk to me and I'm five foot two. Solid foot shorter than him. I'm certain he couldn't hurt a fly, let alone kill a man he worked with."

Something weird crossed his face for a second but he didn't say anything else on the matter. Instead, he shrugged and asked, "So where to?"

"After I drop off this form? Global Studios. It should be closed to the public, right?" He confirmed with a soft nod so she continued. "Investigate the crime scene, talk to employees of Global Studios, try and see what the timeframe looked like, what have you. Unlike last time, we weren't there the day of the murder so we have to start from nothing." She was excited. It was like solving a puzzle.

"Don't get cocky."

"Me? Never." She laughed. He laughed too.

"You're so certain they'll let you investigate."

"Weren't you the one who taught me that, while the police don't work directly with the defense, all attorneys are afforded access to the crime scene? They can't tell me no." She paid attention to his lessons, no matter how much he insisted she didn't.

"Touché." He laughed again.

She was so excited. ——— "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: no lookie-loos allowed on the premises at this time! There's been an incident and everything is shut down for all the adults and that means you kids can't just waltz in here with your big ol' eyes all pouting and just say 'well I was told that I could—' no you weren't! I'm head of security and if you were told you could do this, that, or the other, I'd be the first one told. We've already got this place swarming with the force and I've run out of donuts but overall I just can't handle some third party being introduced just to cause me grief! After all, I'm already grieving my poor Hammer—"

"Ma'am!" Maya finally managed to get a word in edgewise. The old security woman huffed, breathing heavily as she glared at Maya but she didn't care. She just wanted to take advantage of the silence. "I have proof of representation. I'm asking to be allowed in because I'm Will Powers' lawyer."

The security woman held out a bony hand and Maya handed her a copy of the filed paperwork. Her eyes darted over the fine print and caught on Will Powers' signature, face twisting like she ate something off. "Hmph." The paper was unceremoniously shoved back into Maya's hands. "Why didn't ya just say so, girlie?"

"Because you wouldn't shut up."

Maya swallowed a giggle at Nick's comment and managed a very level, "I didn't have a chance to when I first arrived."

Global Studios was a moderately well-known film studio but it wasn't large by any means. The whole campus was composed of about three large buildings—two areas used for filming and one employee area that contained the prop and costume departments as well as the break rooms and dressing rooms—and was around an hour long round walk if you didn't sightsee. When Maya had gotten off the bus, the first thing she did was grab a pamphlet with the layout of the whole campus on it and study it, trying to mark her path of action. That's when the security woman—Oldbag, if her name-tag wasn't some kind of cruel joke—power-walked over and started scolding her.

She knew she looked young and all—she was only seventeen—but Maya had hoped her wardrobe upgrade would make people take her more seriously. She'd exchanged her kimono from Kurain for a dress blouse and a long skirt, keeping her sash so she could have extra storage space for evidence. Her tall traditional sandals were exchanged for cute flats that had thin leather straps she could tie like laces up her ankles. She even had swapped her three-quarters-sleeve shrug for a suit jacket in her favorite shade of lavender where she pinned her attorney's badge to the lapel! She looked the part of a lawyer now and yet...Oldbag had assumed she was some meddlesome kid.

"If it's any consolation, I think anyone younger than the dinosaurs is a kid to her." It wasn't a consolation but the mean little joke did make her feel a little better.

"Well you should learn to speak up!" Oldbag looked down her nose at Maya. "And get a name-tag or a sign or something so well-meaning people doing their job don't mistake you for a loitering hooligan!"

This woman, Maya realized, was going to be a bit of a headache to deal with in casual conversation. Heaven forbid she be put on the witness stand.

"Sorry, Oldbag-san." Maya bowed to her, more out of obligation than anything else. The older woman preened under her respectful manners. Nice to know she had an easy way to butter her up. "Before I go into the studio and look around, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the incident and involved parties?"

"So we don't have to come back later, I assume?" Nick asked. Maya didn't need to answer him. He'd gotten it in one.

"Of course, ask away! Just make it quick."

Deep inhale, exhale. She's not even a witness. She's just a busy old woman. She's not that scary.

"What were you doing at the time of the murder?" Concise and simple, so Oldbag couldn't take it and run.

Oldbag scoffed. "My job of course!"

"Which is?"

"Is it a lawyer's job to ask stupid questions or is it just the job of the young ones? Maybe I'm in the wrong profession if you get paid big for bothering hardworking women like me." Thankfully this rant didn't go on too long. Oldbag sniffed and straightened her jumpsuit's collar, motioning with her hands as she talked. "I'm head of security. My job is to sit here and monitor who goes in and out, keep an eye on the cameras, and prevent snotty little brats from trying to get free photos or tours." On and on like a runaway train of thought.

"I'd bet whatever money that was in my pockets when I died that the age demographic for a B&E at Global Studios is an inverse bell graph." Nick snickered and, when Maya furrowed her brows to silently ask for an elaboration, added on, "Well, Steel Samurai is a children's show and Jack Hammer is an old action film star, not much someone in the teens-to-late-twenties age range would be into." Ah. That made Maya a statistical anomaly. Neat!

Maya tuned back in to the conversation in time to hear Oldbag finish her explanation with, "—and if I find one more candy wrapper in the woods I will personally turn whatever little shit that littered into a rubbish bin."

Maya nodded at Oldbag and gave her an appeasing, if not vapid, smile. "Thank you for telling me all that, Oldbag-san."

"You did ask." If she was pleased, it was hard to tell by tone alone. She had a very dry way of speaking and her volume and speed made it difficult to figure out if she was genuinely angry or just passionate. "Anything else or can I get back to it?"

"Uh..." What else? "You've been here a while? With Global Studios, I mean."

"Almost ten years, yeah." Oh wow. Oldbag must've seen the stars in her eyes because she smirked before continuing. "I've been here since the studio was doing the mid-stage Samurai films."

"That's dedicated." Genuinely, keeping a security gig—any job, really—for a decade wasn't anything to sneeze at. "You must've seen a lot of talent come and go."

"Oh more than you'd expect." The key to getting her to talk, it seemed, was buttering her up. Or just asking her the right questions. "I remember when Vasquez was a production assistant and Manella was a sweaty dork getting cease and desist paperwork from the local talent."

The idea of the lead show-writer Sal Manella being just some fan was actually fascinating but it wasn't a story Maya wanted to get from the long-winded Oldbag. "What's your thoughts on Will Powers?"

"Oh he's guilty for sure." Succinct. Maya took a breath to ask another question but Oldbag cut her off, continuing her once-complete thought. "I mean, really, the big lug is so ugly he can't even show his face in public and dear Hammer was always a handsome fella, even in his younger years. Powers was jealous, of course, and it's not like anyone had the raw acting talent of my Hammer but really, killing him? The man had seniority and you just stab him with a broken prop? What a petty boy. When I was his age I would've gotten my shit rocked if I so much as looked crossways at someone with more seniority than me at work, let alone attacked and or killed them. But really—"

"I'm starting to think Oldbag actually is her name, in some kind of horrible ironic twist." Maya grimaced in agreement as Nick started rifling through the security office to kill time. "Imagine growing up with the surname Oldbag and then you manage to hit your fifties and you are a certified old person. Like the oldest person to ever old person."

He really needed to stop talking while Oldbag was rambling. Maya had long-since lost track of what she was saying, silently praying for her to stop talking so she could press for info about Hammer, since she liked him so much.

"—anyway, that's neither here nor there." Finally. Finally she's finished.

Maya took a second to gather her thoughts before trying to talk again. The woman was a minefield of conversation. One misplaced word would set her off on a tirade. What did she absolutely need to know? What was worth braving the rapids to learn? Well, obviously it would be the victim. "One last thing, if you don't mind?" Please don't mind. Please, please don't mind.

"If that's really all, then sure."

"You said you're a huge fan of Jack Hammer, right? I used to watch his movies a lot—I think I have the collector's edition box set of the Samurai series, honestly. But what's your personal thoughts on the actor himself? You must've worked closely with him, right?" That was the right thing to ask about. Oldbag's face lit up and stars filled her eyes.

"Oh, poor dear Hammer." She sounded like a teenager talking about her prom date. "It's unfair, I tell you, what Global Studios was doing to him."

"Huh?" Even Nick seemed interested in what she had to say now.

"Well, y'know, my Hammer was a big star so many years ago. He's actually one of the oldest members of cast and crew here in Global Studio. Seniority aside, however, they're just not paying him like they used to—as if degrading him by making him act in that good-for-nothing children's nonsense as a villain no less and—"

"The main villain actor wasn't being paid well?" That was news. The Evil Magistrate was actually one of the favored villains in Steel Samurai—not Maya's, mind you, but that's because she had refined taste—and he was The Villain so why—?

Oldbag huffed and rolled her eyes. She seemed as incised as Maya was about the idea. "Not in the slightest! For some un-god-known reason, the bigwigs thought to reward his years of dedication with a costume that hides his pretty face and peanuts on the dollar, which means he was working doubles and triples and even picked up a second job to make ends meet and isn't that just so sad? That in this day and age, men of his talent are forced to scrape the ground for pennies? A shame, I tell you. A right shame!"

"That is weird." Brow furrowed, deep in thought, Maya rolled the concept around. A big name star paid pittance for a long running role in a company he's got seniority in. Who would kill a man like that? It's a reverse-motive, really. Anti-motive?

"In the end, how much he got paid doesn't matter now. They don't pay you in heaven." Tears shone in her eyes as she spoke fondly of the dead man. She really did actually miss him. Huh...

Maya bowed. "Thank you for your assistance, Oldbag-san. And for answering my questions."

"Hrmph. If every lawyer was as polite as you, I think the world would be a slightly better place!"

"If every lawyer was like Maya, she'd be out of a job. Dime-a-dozen attorneys don't get noticed." Nick's little comment got him a stern look, not that he seemed to mind much.

Maya sidled by Oldbag and entered onto the Global Studios campus proper, the pamphlet still clutched in her fist. Immediately there was a decision she had to make: go to the crime scene or visit the employee area. Try and find more information about the victim or verify her client's alibi.

Before she could actually make that decision, however, she heard someone jogging up alongside her. Heavy footsteps and heavy breathing. Nick hadn't said anything so they were likely someone they knew already; someone safe.

"Why am I not surprised you're takin' this case, pal?"

"Gumshoe!" Maya wheeled about and gave the detective a wide, genuine grin. He returned her smile with one of his own as she continued with, "Why am I not surprised you're here?"

"I am lead homicide detective for the precinct. It's kinda' my job and all." He scratched at the back of his head, bashful all of a sudden.

"He missed you, I'd assume," Nick offered. He was probably right. During the transition period, when she was handling Mia's estate, she had received a clumsily made bento and a card offering condolences from him. While he couldn't be there personally due to work hours picking up and his pay going down—which on the card was just written as 'extenuating circumstances'—he wanted to show her kindness the way most people did when it came to someone grieving a loss.

(The bento tasted great, even if it was mostly rice and hot dogs.)

"How goes the investigation?"

"You representin' Powers?" He asked a question instead of answering hers.

"Yeah? I mean...I am a defense attorney now. See?" Maya flashed the badge on her lapel, grinning up at him with all of her. It truly was a mark of pride. Like her sister, she was a bonafide lawyer!

Gumshoe leaned forward, squinting a bit, but the smile he gave her was proud and sincere and filled her chest with warmth. "Yeah! I heard. Prosecutor Edgeworth said his sister was furious about some girl from nowhere gettin' a cultural pass on the Bar. Said she was considerin' flyin' down from Germany to see what the fuss was about. From his side of the phone call, sounded like he warded her off, which is good coz just talkin' to her made him sweat. That made me worry."

Anyone who made Prosecutor Edgeworth uncomfortable was a friend of Maya's. She filed that information away for later.

"Sister?" Apparently Phoenix was unaware. Odd. He knew almost everything about the man, if his starry-eyed proselytization on the virtues of the Demon Prosecutor were anything to go by.

Because she didn't care about Prosecutor Edgeworth in the slightest, Maya chose to ignore the comment about him having a sister. "So how's the investigation going?"

Gumshoe sighed and picked at the bandage on his cheek. It was a new one, different from the last time she saw him, but was in the same place as before. Maybe he was just clumsy? "Could be better, could be worse. Nice to see you out and about without cuffs on. How's that feel?"

She beamed. "Feels way better than last time!" It really did. The cuffs didn't restrict her movement too much but being able to go places without an escort was nice. Freeing. She felt in control of things. "Plus I got to pick my clients. I chose Will Powers!"

"You like the Steel Samurai too, pal?"

"Too?"

Gumshoe covered his mouth and quickly looked anywhere but at Maya. As she tried to get him to focus on her again, she heard Nick full-body laughing about it. "Forget I said anything."

Oh, she won't be forgetting that any time soon, but she didn't want to make him sad. A sad Gumshoe wouldn't be any fun. So she placed her hand over her heart, her magatama cold beneath her fingers, and gave him a solemn nod. "Alright. My lips are sealed."

Gumshoe relaxed. Exhaled. Stood back upright. "Thanks." He seemed actually relieved. "Anyway, uh, what were we talkin' about again?"

"The investigation?"

"The investigation." He pursed his lips, the effort of organizing his thoughts obvious on his face. "It's lookin' pretty cut-and-dry. Only person unaccounted for was Powers, we got a picture of him goin' from the employee area to Studio One, the Samurai Spear was run through the poor victim, and that's that."

"My client says that, from around noon to five in the afternoon, he was asleep in the employee area." She did her best to reign in her bite. This was Gumshoe. He was nice. She didn't need to be aggressive with him.

"Your client was caught on camera, like I said." Gumshoe pointed over her shoulder at something. "There's security cameras that take still shots every time someone passes by. We got a copy of the one he's in." He rifled through his pockets and pulled out a black and white print with something written on the back, presenting it for Maya to take. "You can keep this one. I can get another, all I gotta do is ask nicely."

"I think Gumshoe might be one of the only good cops in existence."

"Thanks!" Maya gave the photo a quick look. It was the Steel Samurai, spear and all, wandering towards something. Judging by the camera angle, it wasn't the employee area, it was one of the studio lots. But it wasn't definitively Will Powers, it was just someone in the Steel Samurai costume.

Gumshoe must've seen the look on her face, the pensive way her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out what the deal was, because he also pulled out a piece of paper from a different pocket. "Autopsy report too. Up to date this time." He had the decency to be embarrassed about that.

"Glad to hear it." The photo print was folded into simple quarters and shoved into her sash as she looked over the report.

Victim: Jack Hammer (37, Male) Time of death: 10/15 at 2:30 PM. Cause: Pierced through the chest by a spear.

"They're so sure of the murder weapon, aren't they?" Nick mused.

"The, uh, coroner is certain that the murder weapon is the Samurai Spear?" That was the right word for the person who does autopsies for the police, right? Coroner?

"It was in his body, if you'll mind the graphic description." As if he just remembered he was talking to someone her age, Gumshoe curbed his language a bit.

"The autopsy says 'pierced through the chest'. Talking about it won't make me upset." Maya puffed her cheeks and frowned up at Gumshoe, who broke eye-contact again. The power she wielded over this man is amazing. "Besides: I need to understand what's going on to properly represent my client, don't I?"

"Yeah...I guess you do."

"So there's a security camera up here," Nick called from where he was floating. He was by the welcome arch, studying the camera intently. "Number ST1-307, it looks like? That might be what we needed if we wanted to pull a copy of the photo ourselves. It's a good thing Gumshoe is so nice to us." Even in the middle of an investigation, Nick was already running his mouth. He forgets, or so he says, that Maya can hear him. He's too used to thinking aloud, apparently.

It's still comforting, even if it isn't always helpful. It meant someone was there. It reminded her that she wasn't alone.

"Well aside from the autopsy report and picture, I don't have much of any use to you I don't think. The security lady was more helpful than we thought but there were only a handful of employees there the day of, so we talked to 'em, looked around, and now we're takin' a comb to the woods on campus."

"Oldbag was helpful?" It's not like she was unhelpful when Maya talked to her, just...hard to talk to.

"She gave us donuts and coffee too! Which was good coz my wallet is gettin' a little empty." Poor Gumshoe. Apparently being a homicide detective didn't pay well. "But she gave us the photo, gave us her testimony, and even offered to come to court tomorrow!"

"Joy." She was going to have to cross-examine Oldbag. Yippee.

"Yeah, I think Prosecutor Edgeworth wasn't too keen on it neither."

"Of course he's prosecuting this one." He is a huge Steel Samurai fan, after all.

"He asked for it specifically, actually. That's the third one in so many months." Was that odd? Defense attorneys picked their cases for the most part. Was it different for prosecutors? "The first one was your case, the second was Mr. White, the third is this one. Usually he takes whatever Miss Chief Lana gives him or whatever his mentor thinks would look good. He doesn't have an opinion about cases so long as he gets his verdict, y'know?"

"I'm sure." If he—or Nick—heard her irritation, neither said a word about it. "I didn't know that was odd for prosecutors. Picking cases, I mean."

"It's not unheard of," Gumshoe clarified, "just unusual. Especially for him."

"Is Oldbag the only witness you have?"

"Now I can't tell you all Prosecutor Edgeworth's secrets, pal!" He laughed at her attempt to change the topic.

"Not even for me?" How far could she push him if she made the saddest face possible?

"You're an attorney, aren't you? Do attorney things! You're smart." Not very. Ah well, it was all in good fun. "Can't sell Prosecutor Edgeworth up the river or he'll dock my pay."

"Fair enough. Fair enough."

Nick had drifted over to what appeared to be a very large statue of a monkey with a top-knot that had fallen over and was busy inspecting that—but not so busy to not smile fondly about her antics.

"Studio One—the place where the murder took place—is technically closed off to everyone but the police but I left the door open for you. Don't tell Prosecutor Edgeworth though, okay pal?" That was becoming Gumshoe's catchphrase. Don't tell Prosecutor Edgeworth.

To be fair: she wasn't going to. It was really nice having someone on the inside. Made her feel powerful.

"You know I won't."

"Thanks, pal." Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck. "I, uh, gotta get back to work and all but hope your investigation goes well."

"Me too! Oh!" Her exclamation caused him to stop his slow, sheepish retreat towards the woods on campus. "Where do I go to give you back your bento box? It was really good."

Something strangely bright, like a child seeing a rainbow for the first time in their life, bloomed on his face. His hesitant expression was replaced with a bashful smile and he ducked his head down. "Oh, uh, you don't need to return the box or nuthin'. I have a million of 'em just sitting around from an old job I had. I'm just glad you liked it."

"It was really good food, Gumshoe. I needed that." It wasn't a tradition in Kurain but she knew the importance of it anyway, judging by how Nick had spent minutes staring at the bento like it was an offering on an altar. "I just don't want to keep the box if you don't have a lot. I've got enough myself."

"No, no, like I said: I got plenty, pal." Resolute and firm, Gumshoe refused a second time. "It's just a clear disposable container anyway. Nuthin' special."

Alright. "Okay then. Maybe we can get lunch or something after this case is done with. My treat?" She'd always wanted to say that.

He blanched and blushed, the colors rapidly cycling like Christmas lights. "I - I couldn't!"

"I insist."

"But—"

"Gumshoe, c'mon! Let me use my paycheck for something other than clothes and bills! Please? Being independent sucks because it's no fun!"

Gumshoe crumpled like a bad house of cards. "Fine. You got a place in mind?"

"Burger joint I'm a regular at. Me and Mia went every time I came around." Against all odds, mentioning Mia in this context didn't hurt. It's not as if the grief was any smaller, just that talking about her habits and little idiosyncrasies didn't feel like she was cracking her ribs open like an oyster shell.

(It was different compared to the mundane emptiness of missing her, the agonies of wanting to make a joke at her expense and her not being there. Telling people 'my sister did this or that' was a statement, a simple fact. Every inch of her apartment was a minefield but work, at a murder scene no less, was safe for some reason. Grief was a persistence predator. Work was a steady clip to keep her ahead. She'd go home and be caught in its jaws but for now she would take the yearning in place of vacuous loss.)

Gumshoe's expression softened. It was something between pity and understanding, sympathy and empathy. He had to be holding himself back from reaching out to comfort her. Otherwise, why would he look like that? "Sounds good."

She didn't try to keep him there, trapped in a conversation going nowhere. They were both adults! They both had jobs to do—even if it was a novel concept even now. "Good luck!"

Maya turned on her heels and walked to where Phoenix was poking around by the fork in the pathway, trying her best to not run away from the weird emotions nipping at her heels. To keep her hands busy, she folded Hammer's autopsy like she'd done to Mia's and put it in the inside breast pocket of her new jacket. Nick was inside the severed head of the monkey mascot, whatever he might have been saying echoing inside the plaster or concrete of the head.

Maya knocked her hand against the head, wincing at the flash of pain that spattered starbursts across her knuckles. Concrete. Ow. "Nick? Gumshoe left."

"Okay?" If she wasn't used to seeing him half-inside of objects, she might have lost it at the comedy of his head resting on top of the concrete—and probably rebar among other things—monkey head. "Get anything good?"

"Nothing you didn't see. Oh, but he did say that I had his permission to poke around the crime scene, so long as I didn't tell Prosecutor Edgeworth." She leaned against the monkey head. "So what'd you find out inside that?"

"Well, it's a clock, for one." Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on the sign it's body was holding that directed people to the studio lots. "You wouldn't be able to tell unless it was working or if you were inside it."

"Please don't let this be the actual murder weapon." It was only a joke but, between what she'd learned about the Thinker clock and Mia's death, she wasn't taking any chances.

Nick might've understood what she was getting at but he still managed to sound almost put-off as he replied. "Unless the top-knot of this monkey is secretly a bladed weapon, I think we've finally broken our weird clock-as-murder-weapon streak. It's a digital clock, same as the Thinker, and also it looks too heavy for a person to lift without assistance."

Maya crouched, dug her fingers under the chin of the monkey, and tried to lift it.

When she gave up, face a brilliant scarlet, ears ringing for the effort, Nick was giggling. "Like I said."

"Okay, digital clock, super heavy, anything else?"

If he cared that she was pouting at him, he didn't show it. "Well it took out a tree and blocked this whole path here." He gestured with one hand at the pathway leading to Studio Two. The dense foliage and concrete monkey's head made it impossible for her to see farther down the pathway. Even the railings on either side of the paths were crumpled like tinfoil beneath the weight of them both. "So it's unlikely that anyone was going to or from that studio during the time it was down."

"Do you have a way to know when that was?"

"Ask Oldbag." Yeah, she was afraid of that.

"Anything else?" The way Nick was grinning at her made her think the answer was 'no'. "Guess we'll never know."

"Coward."

"I value my time." Maya looked at the sign directing people to the two studio lots. Studio One, where the murder took place. Studio Two, likely cut off from the rest of the campus by any conventional means. The employee area, where Will Powers was taking a nap. A photograph showing the Steel Samurai heading towards the studio lots from the employee area at two pm.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She startled when he spoke, glaring daggers up at him. "I was thinking about the security photograph."

"What about it?"

"It was from that camera, right?" She indicated the camera he had been studying earlier, the one by the welcome arch. "But it's not definitive evidence, just someone in the Steel Samurai costume, with the Samurai Spear and everything, heading towards the studio lots. Everyone keeps saying Will Powers did it though."

Nick sighed through his teeth and floated down so he was standing next to Maya. "Welcome to law enforcement. With trials the way they are, it's guilty until proven innocent and first seen, first arrested. You've seen how biased and bad it can get, and White was an outlier. Not every trial has some secret mastermind behind them but almost every trial is going to be an uphill battle. It's just...how the law is right now."

"I've said it once and I'll say it again: this sucks." Maybe it was petulant but—

"You're right." Oh, yeah...Nick had been the defendant of a trial when he died, hadn't he? If anyone understood, it was him.

Maya pulled the photo print from her sash and unfolded it, studying it closely. It really was someone in the Steel Samurai costume walking on camera. It seemed almost staged, their hold on the Samurai Spear unnatural, their entire torso angled so the camera would see it all. On the back of the print it read: ST1-307 – Oct 15, 2:00 PM, Photo #2.

"Two?"

"It comes after one."

Maya shot him a flat, unamused glare. "No, I mean: this is the second photo?"

"I think the camera is motion activated. It probably grabs shots of everyone who passes it." It was a solid theory.

"But two?"

"Oh, like 'where is photo one'?"

"Yes."

"No clue." Super helpful, Nick. "But we can use that, I'm sure. If there were two photos taken, one before this one, then we can assume someone else wandered in and around. And in full view of the camera, so we can rule out someone sneaking around in the woods."

"They were doing action scenes early in the morning, then they were supposed to do the rehearsal in the afternoon. Between the action scenes and the murder, everyone should have been in the employee area, right?" She met Nick's eyes as she spoke, hoping he understood what she was getting at. Judging by the way he was gaping in surprise, he did. "That could be the real murder!"

"Or an unrelated and mysterious third party?"

"Who could be the murderer!" It's not like every murder was some kind of locked room nonsense. People could walk in and out of public areas—private areas too. Third party didn't mean unrelated, if April May and Redd White were anything to go by.

"Possibly." Nick frowned in thought. "So what next, Maya?"

"Uh..." They had two options, really. Either check out the employee area or the murder scene. Probably both. "Well it depends on what we should do first."

"First?"

"The thing before second." Turnabout is fair play.

"Ha ha." He was unamused. Sucks to suck. "What I was asking was: how many options do we have?"

"Two; the scene of the murder and the employee area."

"Then how about this: you go check out Studio One and I'll poke about in the employee area to see if I can find anything useful. In the off chance it's a physical piece of evidence or something we might want to...hold on to," steal for later, "I can tell you where it is so you don't waste your time rummaging through the garbage."

"Is looking in the trash a regular occurrence?"

Nick's face drew into a pitying grimace. "More than you'd expect but less than doing it for fun and profit."

"Weird." Maya tried to imagine her sister rummaging in the trash and couldn't. The two disparate ideas wouldn't reconcile into a single occurrence. "But that sounds good! I'm gonna try and be super thorough when I look at the crime scene so come to me when you're done, okay?"

He flashed her an 'okay' hand sign. "Will do. Don't die."

"I don't plan on it."

"Usually you don't." Even though his tone was light and airy, there was something tense and choking in his chest. She felt it slam into her own heart and wrap tendrils around it, squeezing and sharp.

Like the last time he said it, he wasn't joking. Not entirely.

People don't usually plan on dying.

Then they parted ways. ——— Studio One was a large warehouse-like building with a single entrance accessible by foot traffic. Maya was surprised to see that the door, while it had a card reader on it to prevent unauthorized entry, was propped open with a re-sealed can of brilliant jade high-gloss paint. That must've been what Gumshoe meant when he said 'I left the door open for you'. No wonder he didn't want Prosecutor Edgeworth finding out. If someone else had taken advantage of the open door, he'd be in massive trouble. As she entered the studio, she moved the paint can inside so nobody else could get in without a keycard.

Now nobody would know what Gumshoe'd done.

Normally, the idea of being inside the area where rehearsals and filming for Steel Samurai took place would have sent Maya into a hyperventilating spiral of delight but...

White tape outlined the place where a man had died. There was no blood—it's likely the costume absorbed all of it—but little white markers pointed to where the weapon had to have been. Cameras pointed towards a backdrop of Mt. Neo Fujiyama against the brilliant midday sky, framing the scene like the finale of the show in its entirety.

The Evil Magistrate was dead! All of Neo Olde Tokyo can rest easy! The Steel Samurai has done it!

He's dead! He's dead!

He's dead!

(She can't pull her wrists too far apart. The cold metal bites, the fangs of the law around her hands and she knows if she doesn't keep fighting she's going to be dragged to hell with words and money. Iron floods her nose and the raw skin on her cheek aches against the cold. She wants to cry but there's someone there, wailing for her, crying for all her own emotions are trapped in her chest.)

(Mia is laying there, slumped. Surrounding her is a puddle of blood, white tape framing her like rim-lighting, the glass from the light stand a shotgun impact mark. Her dead, sightless gaze catches Maya's own and she opens her mouth to admonish her, ask why she didn't save her, why she didn't show up sooner and—)

"—miss? Miss?! Are you—?"

(There are two ghosts holding on to Maya's hands, their grip steel and iron claws vicious and restricting. Her sister—her sister dead and gone and dead and not gone and she never channeled her but if she did she'd be so disappointed and Maya couldn't talk to her anyway and—screaming and wailing, her other hand phased into Maya's chest clutching and squeezing her heart to stop it in its tracks. The other is someone she doesn't know—Nick Nick Nick who is her friend her lifesaver an anchor to reality it's Nick look it's Nick he's here to help he's—and his sightless eyes bore holes in her head as his own agony amplifies her own.)

(Her sister is being attacked and she can't move her hands too far apart and she wants to help but everyone's eyes mark her as a killer. No one will help her but the dead. No one cares but the dead. All she has are the dead. She's dying she's dying she's—)

"—in, hold, out. C'mon now, Maya, breathe!"

(Eyes like flood-lamps, like spotlights, derision and judgment burning blisters against her skin. Paper crumpled in her fist as she spits bullets of black and white reasoning across a battlefield. Stop looking at me! Stop it! Please stop! I didn't do it!)

(She can't afford to be anything other than angry. If she stops being angry she'll crumple in on herself like a dying star. She can't rest until the killer is caught but he smiles at her like he's won and all she can see is white tape and blood and blank eyes and blood and blood and blood.)

(She wants him dead. She wants him to suffer.)

(She's suffering.)

"—there we go, slow and deep. You've got this."

"Do I need to get someone, miss?"

Two people, one familiar and one not, were talking to her. The familiar voice—Nick, it's Nick, and he sounded so worried for her? Why was he worried for her?—was instructing her to breathe. She followed his instructions, suddenly aware of how hard her heart was hammering and how much of her hearing was being consumed by a shrieking ringing noise.

The other voice, the unfamiliar one, was also worried for her but in a more impersonal way. "Uh, I don't know if we have anything that can help and they never trained me on this! Um...uh..."

She needed to assure this poor person that she wasn't dying, that she was going to be alright. Her mouth worked around the words, lungs filling with enough air she could say things again, and she managed to wheeze out, "Don't—" The rest of what she wanted to express—don't worry about me, I'll be fine—died on her tongue. She didn't have the energy yet. She needed a little bit longer.

"Oh!" Maya's vision swam, the blue of Mt. Neo Fujiyama leaving blurry streaks across the face of the other person. She couldn't make out details just yet. "You're okay! That's - that's great!" The poor person sounded like they were about to cry.

"In, hold, out." Nick hadn't stopped coaching Maya's breathing. He just continued on, uninterrupted. She focused on his words, closing her eyes, and breathed. And breathed. And breathed.

When she opened her eyes again, everything was back to normal.

Admittedly, she was on the ground—which was concerning, but her head didn't hurt so she probably didn't fall over—and her mouth was simultaneously dry as cotton and full of weirdly sweet and sticky spit, but she wasn't...whatever that was.

If grief was touching an active heating coil, whatever had just happened was sticking a fork into a toaster. Overall a terrible experience that sapped the strength from every part of her.

"Th—" Maya started to say. Her tongues stuck to the back of her teeth so she took a second and tried again. "Thanks."

"I'm just glad you're alright." The other person—the worried stranger—was crouching nearby, her eyes wide behind her large, round glasses. She looked maybe Maya's age, dressed in a striped shirt with a camo cargo vest on. Her fingers were covered in bandages of one kind or another but she didn't seem to be having issues in spite of that, like she was used to it. "You really worried me there."

"Didn't mean to." Maya was talking to both of them, Nick close enough she could feel the cool tingle of him against the nape of her neck. "I just...didn't expect to react like that."

The girl's expression twisted in sympathy and she fiddled with her ponytail. "Yeah. It's pretty bad. Or, was."

Maya took another moment before she tried to stand up, her legs threatening to give out under her. She leaned against a folding table for support and continued to meter her breathing. "Uh, sorry, I'm Maya. I'm Will Powers' attorney."

The girl's face lit up at that. "Oh! You're taking care of WP! That's good. I was worried." WP? "I'm Penny. Penny Nichols. I'm an assistant on Steel Samurai."

Maya considered bowing to her but Nick interjected. "Don't. You might pass out."

Instead she smiled and inclined her head. "Pleased to meet you Nichols-san."

Penny Nichols blushed so hard her freckles popped against her pink skin. "No no no, you don't have to be so polite! Like I said: I'm just an assistant. I make props and things! I'm just Penny!"

Whoops. Too formal. Time to diffuse the situation. "Okay, just Penny." Judging by the startled laugh that got out of the assistant, it was the right call. "Again: I'm really sorry about...that."

"It's fine!" Judging by the way her voice cracked, it was not fine in the slightest. Penny might've been close to joining her if she hadn't snapped out of it. "I thought something had happened or someone else had attacked you and I was about to call security."

Nobody wanted that, it seemed.

"I'm better now. Glad you held off, though." Going from that to Oldbag would've been...hell, probably. "Uh, anyway, do you mind if I ask you a few questions Penny?"

"Straight to work out of a panic attack." It was hard to tell if Nick was impressed or upset with her. Either could be true. She hoped he could tell from her expression that she was fine right now, stop worrying.

(Be Mia. Be Mia.)

"I already talked to the police but yeah! Anything for WP."

"You keep saying that. WP. Who is that?" Context clues probably should have keyed her in but her thoughts were still prickly around the edges so forgive her if she didn't put one and one together.

"Oh! WP is Will Powers. He's...," Penny tried to find the right words, fiddling with her vest zipper, "He's a sweetheart but 'Will Powers' is a mouthful. It's how he's registered in the actor's guild so I want to be polite and all, hence the abbreviation. He says it's fine." She stumbled over her words, tripping all the way to the conclusion. For someone who worked with stars, she sure didn't act like it.

Judging by the way he had reacted when Maya called him 'Powers-san', he was content with however people wanted to call him. "Oh, okay. That makes sense."

Penny nodded, her ponytail slapping her shoulder. "WP didn't do it. I know he didn't."

"Me too. That's why I took his case."

"I'm so glad! It's nice to know he has someone looking out for him, considering."

"Likewise." Wait, hold on. "Considering?"

Penny's eyes widened behind her glasses. "Oh! I don't mean—that is..."

"I'm not trying to pry." Maya tried to alleviate her discomfort. "That's just the second time someone has mentioned something about Will Powers and Jack Hammer, or something like it. I was just curious."

Penny's expression shuttered, her concern masked with stark disapproval. "Oh, I'll bet you heard that WP and Mr. Jack didn't like each other, didn't you? I've been trying to squash those rumors on the forums for months. It's such a mess."

Forums? Wait, was she big on the forums? Did she do official social media for Steel Samurai or was it a hobby thing? "Not quite, though I wouldn't expect you to be on the forums."

She hadn't meant to let that slip, judging by how flushed she got. Penny carded her fingers through her ponytail and stared through Nick—whom she didn't know was there—in an attempt to not look at Maya. "Oh, uh, I mean...look, it's not like it's official..."

"Do I look like a cop?" Wait, she was a lawyer. "Or a narc?"

"Where did you learn 'narc'?" That word choice apparently amused Phoenix to no end.

"No?"

Maya shrugged. "I took the case because I'm a fan myself. What you do with your time is your business and, unless it directly impacts my investigation or if it would harm or aid my cause, I'm not worried about it. Besides: it's a stupid rumor mill echo chamber anyway. Like the whole thing about the moon being an ancient ayakashi egg. It's the moon! There are sapient rabbits up there! There's no reason to also make it an ancient ayakashi egg! That'd be overkill and, for all that the show can be a bit much, that's too much."

That was the right thing to say, it seemed, because Penny immediately started nodding so hard Maya was worried her glasses would fall off. "Right?! Do they not understand that there's a rhyme and reason to the mythos of the show? Making the moon an ancient ayakashi egg would throw off the whole point of the Mutant Moon Rabbits and the Moon Rabbit Kingdom!"

Penny was like her! Penny was a huge nerd just like her! That more than made up for the panic attack she just had. They should exchange numbers to talk about Steel Samurai stuff.

"Earth to moon rabbit," Nick called out, pulling her away from her imaginary conversations with her new Steel Samurai fan friend. "The case?"

Right. The case. "Sorry, that was off-topic. Uh, right," Maya cleared her throat and tried to be Mia for a bit, "so what were you doing the day of the...murder?" She tried to keep from looking at the outline of the body so she didn't panic again. That shade of white made her itch.

Penny also tried to go back to being professional, though she was grinning a mile a minute. "Right, uh, that day. So I was doing set work, like usual. The action sequence run-through was for early in the morning so that there could be a break before rehearsals so I was mostly prepping the scenes."

"Just her?"

"Are you the only assistant Global Studios has?" Maya tried to not sound pitying but she apparently did a bad job, judging by how Penny flinched.

"The studio isn't doing...great. Don't get me wrong: Steel Samurai is more popular than ever, it's just...not enough to hire a lot of staff. I'm set assistant, prop department, and gaffer. I don't do active lighting all the time—we have programs for that—but there's very little on set I don't—or can't—do, so I'm busy most days. Especially shoot days." That explained the bandages on her fingers.

"Was everyone there for the action scenes or just Hammer, Powers, and the relevant staff?" Did they need the crowd and suit extras or just the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate?

"Staff that day was WP, Mr. Jack, security, our producer, Sal, our cameraman, stunt coordinator, and myself." Penny ticked each person on her fingers as she talked. "Most of our extras had filmed their scenes for the next batch of episodes days before so we only needed the big players. Off record: there's been layoffs so the whole place is running on a skeleton crew, myself included. The pay is good because it's more hours than I'd normally get, but it's exhausting. Every time I close my eyes I see the sets I've painted."

"Yikes." What else could she say?

"Action run-through and then break, right?" Nick prompted. Right.

"So the action scenes in the morning, then lunch break while staff set up for the rehearsal, right?"

Penny nodded. "Everyone took lunch in the employee area. After lunch, WP went to his dressing room and I got super busy making sure markers were put down and everything looked good and was greased and ready to go for rehearsal. I was actually patching some of the bit-part suits and running laundry when they found the body." Busy bee.

"There's remnants of t-bone steak all over the employee area," Nick corroborated. "Global Studio seems to cater its meals on shoot days. They haven't cleaned them up, either, but that's probably on the police's orders. Don't touch anything, and all." Good information to have.

"You said Will Powers went to his dressing room after lunch?" Maya got a nod in response. "Did you see him any time after that?" That was a shake. "Did you check to see if he was asleep?"

That actually made Penny blush. "No! He's one of the big names, the important ones! I know he's pretty cool and all but you don't go busting into someone's personal dressing room like that! It's improper."

"To her credit, and his, there's a bed in the dressing room. It's small, barely a cot, but it's unmade and messy. He absolutely was sleeping after lunch." That was a relief.

"Understandable!" Maya laughed. "I think I'd've done the same. I'm just asking to make sure I have the facts straight."

"I understand." Penny went back to fiddling with her vest zipper. "I just...you know how it is."

"I really do." They were, after all, kindred spirits. "And you're certain nobody else was around during that time? The run-through and before the body was found?" Best to check for her mysterious unrelated third party.

Penny looked strangely on-edge when she asked that. She kept glancing between an open grate on the floor and Maya herself, chewing on her lower lip. When she finally spoke again, she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "I didn't see anyone else but..."

"But?"

"Well, I...sensed? Someone?" She shifted in place a bit. "I know it sounds silly but there's only so many people here and you get used to their noise and presence and all—"

"Oh I get that, believe me." A village of people, everyone knowing everyone, and a manor with only three residents in it. Nightingale floorboards and the sounds of the forest outside. Screaming cicadas and crickets and owls. Wandering a mostly-empty street but knowing there's a tourist in town because the rhythm of everything was off. "You didn't see them, though?"

"Whoever it was kept out of sight." Penny actively looked at the grate this time. "We get, uh, kids coming in from time to time because, y'know." The Steel Samurai's demographic. The inverse bell graph. "But I don't recall seeing anyone, no."

"I assume that's what's up with the cops searching the woods? The whole...fans situation?"

"Couldn't tell you." Penny frowned. "Not that any of them would be here today. School day."

"Has that ever stopped a fan before?" Maya joked, knowing full well the answer.

"No." At least Penny got the joke.

Speaking of. "That grate—"

"Yeah." She sounded somewhat resigned. "Security keeps demanding I close it because it's a hazard and also the kids keep littering but Sal..."

"I assume he's telling you otherwise?" Maya hazarded.

Penny looked like she swallowed something sour. "'Free publicity,' he says." She plugged her nose and, probably imitating Sal Manella, continued, "'The kids tell their friends they saw the Steel Samurai fighting the new bad guy and more people watch. Even if we aren't making as much on tours, our numbers look great. Win-win.' I think he just is living out his childhood dreams vicariously through them."

Maya thought back to Oldbag mentioning Sal Manella and cease and desist orders. She grimaced. "Probably, but he's not wrong."

Even though it looked like it pained her to say it, Penny agreed. "He's not wrong. The problem is: I'm more scared of security than I am in agreement with Sal so...I'm boarding this up later today. I sure hope nobody gets too upset by it."

"You're just doing your job." Unfortunately for everyone, Maya had run out of questions to ask.

Penny seemed to pick up on that because she had a question for Maya. "Is he doing alright? WP, I mean."

"Oh, uh, I mean...he's okay?" He seemed nervous but that was likely just how he was. "The detention center isn't a great place to be but they're pretty...tolerable." It suddenly occurred to her that she really didn't want Penny to ask how she knew that. "He seemed...he was happy? Relieved? That I had taken his case—believed in him."

"Good." Penny's response was surprisingly firm. "WP needs people in his corner. He's a good guy."

"He didn't do it," Maya stated again. Penny nodded in agreement. "Besides, the Steel Samurai is a warrior of justice, not evil."

"Powers isn't the Steel Samurai," Nick pointed out. "You can't make judgment calls based on predisposed notions you have regarding someone's character. Especially if it's an actual character."

Maya chose to ignore him for now. "You want to exchange phone numbers? I'd love to chat about Steel Samurai if you have the time!"

"Sure!" Penny pulled out her phone and the two quickly sent an SMS to each other. She beamed at Maya, the happiness tinged with tired optimism. "Let me know how the trial goes? I won't be able to take off."

"I will." Wow, working a labor job sure seemed like it sucked. "Thanks for all the help! Sorry about freaking you out."

"It's good!" And somehow, Maya knew she meant that.

Leaving Studio One, Maya and Nick headed towards the front entrance so they could catch the next bus back to the Office to organize what information they had. Maya was thinking about the missing first picture and Will Powers' alibi and Oldbag and how people seemed to think Powers and Hammer actually disliked each other.

That's why she didn't hear Nick until he cleared his throat and repeated himself a little louder. "You can't just decide that your client is innocent based on your emotional leaning."

That seemed a little hypocritical. "What?"

"You equated Powers to his character, the Steel Samurai. Because the Steel Samurai is a noble warrior of justice, Powers can't have killed Hammer. That's a false equivalency. You can't do that in court. They'll rip you apart." He was trying to help her. She knew that. It's just—

"Aren't I supposed to trust my client? That's an emotional leaning!"

Nick flinched as if struck. "That's not the same thing."

"No, I know it's not, I'm just pointing out that I'm not...I don't actually think Will Powers is the Steel Samurai. I actually believe in him. I just also..." Shame curled around her ears and cheeks and nape, flushing her skin on contact.

"Yeah." Nick let out a long-suffering sigh. "All I meant was: remember to watch how you say things, especially in a high-profile case like this one. If the prosecution doesn't rip you to shreds, the media will. There won't be anything left over."

They both were kinda bad at talking to people, huh? Maya stifled an amused laugh with a cough. "I get it. I'll try and be smart in court tomorrow."

"That's all I'm asking." And wasn't that comforting? Knowing someone was there without strings attached, at her side every step of the way? "Do you think you're prepared?"

"I think I've got the basis of a good defense. Barring something truly heinous or, I don't know, Will Powers choosing to confess and plead guilty, I'll be fine. It's not my first rodeo."

"You're right." That teasing lilt returned to Nick's voice and he grinned at her. "It's your second."

"And I'm only getting stronger and more formidable every time!" They passed beneath the welcome arch, the feeling of the security camera taking a snapshot prickling against the back of her neck. "Prosecutor Edgeworth better watch himself."

"I think he's learned to not underestimate you already."

"And he's gonna learn I'm a certified powerhouse!" Maya cackled. "I can't wait."

"Just remember that this is about our client, not your grudge."

No, that was fair. She needed that reminder from time to time. "He's innocent and I'm gonna prove it."

"I can't wait." Neither could she.

[takingback-thepenguin]

Since three more episodes have come out, here is a list of more sentence starters from Shipwrecked’s web-series, Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story, this time from episodes 4, 5, and 6. Some of the lines have been edited to fit as sentence starters, and feel free to change pronouns/add names/etc as you see fit. Tw: Death, food, smoking mention, violence/killing mention, blood, general tws that go with The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Episode 4: The Star on the Stage

“To make matters worse, he's/she’s/they’ve got a crush.”

“Maybe she'll/he’ll/they’ll see that he's/she’s/they’re just mmmm...not that appealing.”

“Oh, come on, man.”

“How's the landlord?”

“I’m just waiting for her/him/them to wake up and accuse me of murder.”

“Go lock the door.”

“I don't have long.”

“His/Her/Their tombstone says he/she/they died in 1776!”

“What the-? This is trippy as hell.”

“My hands smell like hands.”

“Oh snap! I'm alive!”

“Yo, this is tight!”

“Being six feet underground was a bit of a bummer.”

“I died doing what I loved.”

“Whoops.”

“Why does your tombstone say you died in 1776?”

“I'm committed to being the best re-enactor there ever was.”

“You guys got any hot Cheetos?”

“This is a disaster.”

“I have to go to this show.”

“_____’s saving me a seat.”

“Yoooo, is this you??”

“Whoa, look at that!”

“That's funny.”

“Oh, my God. Your yearbook!”

“Are you sitting backwards in a chair?”

“They told us to do that.”

“_____ wrote "Butts!!"

“It's been a wild ride.”

“Thanks for everything.”

“See you on the other side.”

“Wow. Ominous.”

“We've been through a lot.”

“She/He/They want(s) me to invite you.”

“You don't sound very enthused.”

“It's just, I don't really—”

“I would love to!”

“Oh, my gosh, I love live theatre.”

“I love live anything.”

“Get it?”

“This guy/gal/one gets it.”

“Hey, can we stop at a 7-Eleven on the way there?”

“Do those still exist?”

“All right, whatever. Cool.”

“Aren't you going to sing about this?”

“Bard Union says I need to take a four hour break every 30 minutes.”

“How do you get into the bard union?”

“_____! You made it.”

“Oh hey, I'm _____.”

“Hey, maybe we should all stop talking because the show's about to start.”

“I think our production of this annual tradition is going to blow your socks off!”

“Art is messy.”

“Enjoy the history of Sleepy Hollow!”

“I was in this play when I was ten! Really got me into history.”

“Oh, hi! I didn't see you there.”

“You sure did spook me.”

“Wait a minute. That's my job.”

“Um, wrong.”

“To tell you my story, I need to start from the beginning.”

“Ugh, do your research!”

“Lunchable?”

“Cutie?”

“I got an idea!”

“What have I done? What have I done?”

“Man, I know so much stuff. I really wasted my potential.”

“Ham?”

“Hey, _____. What are you doing after this?”

“Shut up.”

“This is my favorite part.”

“My mom used to tell me this story when I was a kid. Freaked me out so bad.”

“The Woman in White is said to haunt the woods, alerting those who pass to steer clear! Lest they be caught in a deadly storm, as she was.”

“Stay away from Raven Rock!”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I am not jealous of _____.”

“Okay, boss.”

“That's ten miles away.”

“They have a spa there I just love.”

“I have a referral.”

“Are you, a grown man/woman/person, actually asking about the logistics of ghost hauntings?”

“Uh, the other kids are asking if you can drive us to Denny's.”

“Oh, fine.”

“No singing.”

“Has anyone ever figured out how that story began?”

“That stuff's poisonous.”

“I'll go stop him/her/them.”

“I have to get back to work anyway.”

“If I leave _____ alone too long, things start disappearing into other dimensions.”

“Well, I got to go to work, too, right? Work on making lunch! Yeah!”

“Tuna sandos! Less red meat!”

“So? You, uh...headed back to the graveyard soon?”

“Why would he/she/they go to the graveyard?”

“I've hotboxed in the mausoleum!”

“I don't know if you can tell, but I party.”

“I coulda used that during the historical abomination we just witnessed.”

“Hit me!”

“Oh, my God!”

“This is—“ “A scientific anomaly?”

“This is incredible!”

“My mother used to tell me stories about the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.”

“I wish my mom was here to meet you.”

“_____’s been, like, casting spells.”

“It's a whole group thing.”

“I-I promised my dad I'd watch _____ with him this afternoon, but I really want to help.”

“Things are getting interesting with you around, _____.”

“Well, looks like that blew up in your face.”

“I knew she'd/he’d/they’d be DTF. Down to…find. The head.”

“It's a little risky for me right now.”

“You kind of owe me one.”

“I want her/him/them to represent me in court tomorrow.”

“Coast is clear. Let's boogie.”

“Let's boogie, _____.”

Episode 5: The Chaos In Court

“Where have you been?”

“Your court date starts in 10 minutes.”

“He/She/They was/were acting so weird.”

“Just…go look, go look over there.”

“Check it out!”

“Something tells me that she’s/he’s/they’re not an attorney at law.”

“Hey, what's up fam?”

“Hey, sorry I've been AWOL for a minute.”

“I'm going to be real with you for a second.”

“It totally bummed me out.”

“Okay, bye. Nice.”

“Check it out.”

“Hey, introduce yourself, man!”

“Oh, man! Pantsed!”

“Oh man. I look great.”

“Who would want more of this?”

“So many people want more of this.”

“Oh, who, me?“

“What's up? I'm waiting on an important delivery.”

“Are you helping _____?”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“We don't have a lot of time.”

“Okay, stop. I know!”

“We need to be able to trust each other!”

“Why is it that I see you every day?”

“Oh, no! What a bummer.”

“'Sup, _____?”

“Your beachy locks are looking particularly effortless today.”

“Prove it.”

“I bet you're really, really happy with yourself.”

“That was...very hard to hear.”

“I think of myself as the Marty McFly of my life, obviously.”

“Am I the villain?”

“Did I just Biff my relationship with _____?”

“Candygram for _____!”

“These are on loan from the town archives.”

“I'm going to need you to be exceptionally careful.”

“Don't, like, use them as coasters or get any of your fake blood on them.”

“I'm talking to you.”

“It wasn't fake.”

“I'll be back for these soon.”

“Don't forget to stretch at least once an hour.”

“Thanks, _____.”

“I know how you can make it up to _____.”

“You can help me sort through all these documents.”

“Pound it.”

“Oh, no thanks.”

“Guilty!”

“Not guilty! I mean, of...of crime.”

“I’m guilty of being _____. I'm _____.”

“You were—you wanted to know if I was _____?”

“Oh, God. I feel sick.”

“Oh, hey, Pepto?”

“Good call.”

“Please, I need to stay under the radar and just get through this.”

“And this is...?”

“I'm the defendant's counsel, _____.”

“I may not have a law degree, but I do have plenty of unpaid parking tickets.”

“Is that...the newest iPhone?”

“I'm looking to upgrade.”

“How is the camera on that?”

“Interesting! Let's talk after.”

“You are charged with trespassing.”

“I might have known.”

“Can you please recount the events of that day?”

“There I was, working the graveyard shift—literally—when I came across this ne'er-do-well doing no well.”

“Is this true?”

“Were you doing no well?”

“You're supposed to be helping me!”

“Hey, you can't handle the truth, man!”

“Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Boom! That's what two years at Houdini Summer Camp for Children will getcha.”

“My socials need a glow-up! Can you help me?”

“I got you.”

“Oh man, you're drenched!”

“When did you have time to make all this, slime?”

“Do not try this at home.”

“I am a licensed prankster.”

“I have my degree in biochemistry from MIT.”

“I got 50 hours of community service.”

“Hope you're happy.”

“You hungry?”

“What I did was supremely uncool.”

“Using our magical abilities to thrust you into the clutches of an unjust legal system was very unchill of me.”

“I’m filled with regret.”

“Not to stress you out any more, but my dad wants to have you over for dinner tomorrow.”

“That actually might not be true.”

“We did some digging.”

“I got to head home.”

“I promised Dad I'd watch _____, but, um...I'lI see you tomorrow?”

“You won!”

“Will murdering _____ cheer you up?”

“I guess just look for a giant yogurt truck!”

“Oh, you guys got me so good.”

“Prankster becomes the prankee. Nice!”

“Oh my God, my head.”

“Choose your destiny.”

“Where am I?”

“What's happening?”

“No, no, no. It's okay.”

“You're like, um, a magical zombie.”

“Everything's okay!”

Episode 6: The Distractions At Dinner

“No! Don't hang up. Don't hang up.”

“You have to stop calling me.”

“I think I could really help you!”

“No, _____ you can't come here.”

“I'm so good at characters.”

“I took an improv class and I never even got to the show.”

“Please let me do this!”

“_____ will recognize you.”

“I'm trying to impress _____.”

“I can't have a weird ghost zombie showing up.”

“_____ is going to investigate while he's/she’s/they’re distracted.”

“I have to go.”

“I missed the whole song!”

“Dude, that was my best stuff.”

“Can you play it again?”

“Our sacrifice to the Pagan gods is here.”

“_____, my good man/woman/person, our guest of honor! Welcome.”

“Does _____ need any more help in the kitchen?”

“She's/He’s/They’re finishing up.”

“Any more vagrant sightings at the Old Dutch House?”

“Hope she/he/they wake(s) up soon.

“You know about that.”

“Oh, you heard?”

“Look out! We have a new resident bad boy/girl/one!”

“What are you doing?”

“There could be invisible lasers!”

“Your DNA is getting everywhere!”

“Oh, my blood.”

“Is there DNA in blood?“

“Is there DNA in blood? I sure hope not cause it’s everywhere.”

“You can see where she/he/they get(s) her/his/their good looks!”

“She/He/They got her/his/their obstinate streak from Yours Truly.”

“She/He/They wrote the book on local legends.”

“There wasn't a haunted rock or a bewitched gas station within 100 miles that she/he/they didn't know about.”

“Before you leave, pick up a few of her/his/their books and read up.”

“Uh, did she/he/they ever mention the Headless Horseman?”

“Oh, haven't you seen him/her/them yet?”

“You're not a true resident of Sleepy Hollow until you think you've seen the Headless Horseman.”

“She/He/They always thought the best of people.”

“She/He/They got taken with conspiracy theories.”

“Not sure where we lost her/him/them.”

“Wonder who that could be.”

“There's um, someone here for you.”

“Hey, how are ya?”

“I parked in a red zone, but they don't ticket on weeknights.”

“Nice to meet ya.”

“I hope you don't mind, I brought my Dunkies.”

“I'll, uh, set another place.”

“I must say, _____, I have a feeling we've met before.”

“I don't think so.”

“I have one of these.”

“Now that is sus.”

“What do you do?”

“I just got recruited by the CIA, actually.”

“You know, CSI, SVU, NBC, you know.”

“They've been scoutin' me for a while due to my ability to solve crimes.”

“Turns out? I'm wicked good at it!”

“That's a noble pursuit.”

“Public safety, justice, it all sounds thrilling!”

“You know, I've heard there's actually a lot of paperwork involved. Not like on TV.”

“I’ve never done any paperwork.”

“Whoa, check this out. It's a manuscript.”

“I often wonder if I'd ever have the chance to meet the ghost myself.”

“Perhaps this weekend, l'll finally come face to face with destiny.”

“I'll be ready.”

“Where would I put the evidence? Maybe in an old phone like this?”

“Go long!”

“Why?”

“Shhhhh.”

“This is, like, a million years old.”

“This is real leather.”

“I really hope she's/he’s/they’re not up here working.”

“Uh, we can explain!”

“_____ and I are in love!”

“We're meeting here for our lover's rendezvous.”

“It's the last place anyone would think to look for us!”

“I noticed you're admiring the chandelier.”

“We try not to speak about him/her/them.”

“More rolls?”

“I think you might be interested in a little dessert.”

“It's an old family recipe.”

“Shall we?”

“Oh, my God, you guys, that's amazing!”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I'd marry her/him/them...if I could.”

“Who would accept us?”

“Oh, God your skin is so cold.”

“You know what? I can marry you right now, I'm ordained!”

“It's, like, a lot.”

“No, no. There's no need.”

“Weddings are expensive.”

“There's so much to do!”

“My mom's not here.”

“Oh, I insist.”

“Hooray.”

“It's me!”

“I know.”

“I told you to stay home.”

“They're in my ear, like, telling me cool stuff to say.”

“This is the dumbest idea.”

“I heard that!”

“They told me to say that.”

“Now if you could just, uh, sign here and here for me.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

“You may kiss the bride.”

“I can't do it. I cant do it.”

“Do it, do it. Do it. Oh, God!!”

“I always cry at weddings.”

“What makes you so sure he's/she’s/they’re responsible anyways?”

“The last thing I remember is _____ giving me a drink and then pain.”

“He/She/They poisoned you? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I was a great assistant.”

“I'm, like, very good at accents.”

“Try to remember!”

“You have to go.”

“I am so close to getting a confession!”

“High time for pie time!”

“Look who I found.”

“I thought we might raise a toast.”

“You sure you don't want a piece of this delicious pie?”

“Sox game starts in ten.”

“Thanks for dinner.”

“I'm watching you.”

“Lovely to meet you.”

“Listen, if you're ever back in town, don’t be a stranger.”

“I am not a stranger.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

“Don't touch my pie, _____.”

“Okay, what is going on? Who was that?”

“I just picked one at random.”

“Here's the thing, and it's funny. You're—You're going to laugh.”

“She/He/They think(s) that your dad killed her/him/them.”

“I know, It's crazy! Pie?”

“Why would my father kill her/him/them?”

“You don’t think that she/he/they knew something?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You're actually taking her/him/them seriously?”

“I think you should leave.”

“Get out!”

“Please don't.”

“We had a deal. And I am not renegotiating it.”

[raibebe]

Invoke

Genre: Mystery? Thriller? Slightly gore? With some fluff? And eventual smut? Words: 13.315 Prompt: Warlock Yuta, familiar Ten, female reader Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of religion, blasphemy (our warlock doesn’t like the church and made a deal with the devil), blood, devil summoning, murder with magic, actual murder

A/N: This has a couple of darker themes, if you’re sensitive to any of them, please be careful or just sit this fic out and don’t read it. The abuse is only implied and is not happening to any of the main characters. This seriously went out of hand and holy fuck I love warlock Yuta?? Thank you so much for requesting this @def-sol​! Ruby I loved this idea so much, I hope you enjoyed this. The beautiful moodboard is by @min-inu as always, thank you darling! Another big thank you to @burtonized, Jo you’re the real MVP for listening to me whine all day long.

Warlock: A male practitioner of witchcraft. The word comes from the Old English word wǣrloga meaning “oathbreaker” or “deceiver”. The terms were associated with witches and warlocks as they were seen as someone who made a pact with the devil and thus had betrayed the Christian faith and broke their baptismal vows.

It was a rainy autumn afternoon, the clouds had sunken into the valley your hometown was located in and covered everything in a layer of grey fog, washing away every color. You adjusted the hood of your cloak to shield yourself from the moisture after you stepped out of the little bakery you worked at when you heard the hooves of multiple horses on the beat up street that lead to the little town. Knowing that nothing good ever came from those horseman, you quickly hid the loaf of bread in your ratty coat and headed to the town square. A small crowd had already gathered when one of the knights pulled loose what seemed to be a lump rolled into a cloth from his horse that fell to the ground with a low thud. Only when it started to move, you felt the horror creep up your back. A couple of people quickly scrambled to see what was inside the cloth, even though you all already knew it. Beneath the thick linen, a girl’s face was revealed. You hadn’t known her when the knights had taken her with them just a couple of weeks prior but you could feel nothing but sincere pity for the girl. Her face was unnaturally swollen, her skin more the color of violets than her actual skin tone, blood clinging to her features and she was shivering in the arms of one of the women, completely silent. You turned your back towards her, not wanting to see the state the rest of her body must be in. The last girl that had come back from the royal court had only lasted a week before she had died due to the multiple injuries she had. She also hadn’t spoken a single word. But everyone had known what that men of the court must have done to her in the castle that overlooked the little valley, sitting high up on a nearby hill.

The knights just kept sitting in their saddles, completely unfazed. How could a person be this cold? How could they just follow the orders from their sires to keep taking girls away from their families to bring them back broken and beat, unable to continue to live a normal life? And how was no one doing anything against this? Why were the lords of these lands above the law? Why didn’t the priests do anything with all the power they had? The sight made you sick to the stomach and you couldn’t stand to look at the scene even a second longer, walking back to your home, trying to ignore the screams of the girl the knights must have picked out to take with them. You grabbed the cross hanging around your neck tightly and spoke a prayer to protect the girl from the worst.

That night you couldn’t fall asleep, your thoughts twisting and turning inside your head. Your anger towards the royals only grew more and more with each girl they took with them and you were sick of everyone just accepting their fate. The girls lived in fear that they would be the next one taken and the fathers and mothers were desperate to keep their daughters safe, praying every evening inside the small church. But with every day that passed you lost faith in your god. How could a just god let all of this happen? And the people of the town alone couldn’t do anything to stop this abuse. If they would speak up, they wouldn’t even be able to finish their words because their head would be rolling from their shoulders as soon as they opened their mouths.

Sighing, you rolled onto your back, staring at the holes in the ceiling. You refused to accept that you should patiently wait until the knights unfortunately picked you to take you to the castle where the royals would completely break you, shattering your being to the core. There must be a way to stop all of this. To put an end to the injustice that was happening. When the new lord had been initiated, he had sworn with his hand on the Sacred Scriptures that he would protect the people caring for his lands. If this was what him caring looked like, you didn’t even want to know what it would be like if he was turning a blind eye. It really seemed like you and your town needed some supernatural help or otherwise the royals would just keep playing with the lives of their subjects like they meant nothing.

That was when an idea shot into your head, making you sit up in your bed. After the last girl had come back and the healers of your village hadn’t been able to arrest her bleeding and the prayers of the priests hadn’t helped either, her mother had sneaked away to find a man that lived alone in the woods who was rumored to be gifted with certain powers that allowed him to give and take life. Of course the mother had to do it in secret; if the priests ever found out about that man, he would be burned on the town’s square just like the red haired woman who had wanted to travel through the town. Sometimes you could still hear her screams when the flames ate away her flesh. The next night you had seen a figure wearing a dark cloak sneaking into the home of the family. Curious as to what was going to happen you had sneaked over as well, watching the scene through a crack in the back door: The man had sat down on the bed of the girl and took off his hood to reveal long unruly strands of a red brighter than you had ever seen. He had spoken a couple of words in a language unfamiliar to you, keeping his voice level and his gaze down towards the girl. After a while, the girl had begun to shake and thrash only to suddenly stop mid movement before deflating back onto the mattress. The man then had let out a deep sigh before he put the hood of his cloak over his head again. He only said four words to the parents on his way out: “Her struggle is over.” When the parents ran to the body of their daughter, he had picked up a bundle the father had set up on the desk and left without looking back. That night you could hear the mother cry until the sun crawled over the trees of the forest again and the nature came back to life to cover her pain with beautiful symphonies.  

That man had liberated the girl from her injuries and pain by taking her life just from talking to her. He must have some special powers people attributed to witches and warlocks. He must be powerful enough to help you. And if the family of that girl was able to pay him to use his abilities in their favor (even if it hadn’t turned out how they wanted to), he must also have a price for killing the royals. Or at least send them a warning. You had to find this man and at least try to win him over. As far as you were concerned he might be your only chance to put an end to this.

After a rough night of twisting and turning in your scratchy sheets, you got up more determined than ever to find the mysterious warlock. You quickly got dressed in your warmest cloak and left the house you had rented your room in, sneaking past your snoring landlord who smelled like he had spent his night in the tavern yet again, drinking too much and then lusting after the skirts of women that were way too young for him. You couldn’t help but feel relieved when you left the house and could breathe in the fresh air of the morning. Once your lungs were filled with air smelling like a mixture of freshly cut grass and baked bread, you turned to leave the town. You had no idea where exactly you could find the man. But rumors about him had traveled around the town since the day you were born. Coming to think of it, he seemed to have been around for as long as you could think which didn’t match with how young he had seemed to be when you got that glimpse of him a couple of weeks prior. But the priests always preached that those who had broken their vows and abandoned the right path had many different wicked tricks to disguise their true form.

Mindlessly you followed a trail that lead deeper into the woods and away from the fields where the workers were cultivating different plants both for themselves and for the damned royals. If the priests had never bothered to pay the man a visit, he must live in a place they couldn’t reach, up higher the hill where the paths were narrow and steep. So those were the paths you were taking, paying attention to never lose your footing and keeping your eyes open for anything suspicious.

You were about to give up when the underbrush became thicker and thicker, clearly untouched when you heard the jingle of what seemed to be a little bell. Why would there be a bell ringing in the middle of the forest? Cautiously you listened and crept closer to what seemed to be the source of the noise. It wasn’t long until you found the cause: A small black cat was rubbing its head against a branch in what seemed to be an attempt to get the collar off but it was wrapped too tightly around its throat. “Do you need some help, little one?” You softly asked as to not startle the feline. The cat immediately stopped whatever it was trying to do and stared up at you from big, amber eyes. You carefully approached it and kneeled down, slowly extending your hand towards it so it could see that you meant no harm.  After it carefully eyed you up and down, the cat crawled over to first sniff your fingers before it pressed its head into your palm. Giggling you scratched it behind its ears which earned you a loud purr. “Let me get that collar off of you,” you murmured, carefully tipping the cat’s head so you could examine the leather band the bell was fastened onto. With nimble fingers you undid the intricate knot and the cat could slip out of it. Once it was free, it curved its back and hissed loudly at the little object resting in your palm. “You really didn’t like that bell, huh?” You smiled. “Who do you belong to, little one? I’m looking for a man with red hair. I was hoping he could help me with a problem.” Why were you talking to a cat? It wasn’t like it could understand and lead you to the warlock.

Strangely enough the cat crooked its head as if it was listening to your words and thinking about what it should do. “Do you know him and can take me to him?” You asked carefully, eyeing the cat carefully. It meowed loudly before it got up to disappear deeper into the underbrush. You sighed deeply. Of course the cat had neither understood you nor would it be able to help you. Whether you liked it or not, you might had to ask the family who had lost their daughter where you could find the warlock. It was useless to stray through the forest like this, hoping to stumble upon a house or the man himself. You were about to turn around when another rather annoyed sounding meow tore through the sounds of the forest and a pair of amber eyes looked at you from the bush the cat had jumped into. “Are you trying to help me find him?” You disbelievingly asked the cat who actually rolled its eyes at you. When did a normal cat ever roll its eyes? Could cats even roll their eyes? What was happening? Before your thoughts could spiral any further, the cat made its way through the underbrush again, and you scrambled to follow the black creature, not taking chances of losing it between the bushes and trees.

Soon you reached a clearing the cat eagerly crossed, climbing onto a big stone surface in the grass where it curled up in the sun. Further back between a couple of big oak trees sat a small hut that surely had seen better times. “Where have you taken me?” You quietly asked the cat. Of course it didn’t respond, it just lazily turned its head towards the house where a figure clad in black clothes just emerged, their red hair reflecting the light of the sun that was peeking through the trees. “You little shit!” The person called, clearly a male voice, “How did you manage to get it off?” The cat didn’t even react to the screaming, just stretching its lithe body in the sun. “And who are you?” The man asked when he came closer, his green eyes so piercing it made you shiver. “I- Your cat showed me the way,” you stuttered. “That’s not what I asked, woman.” The warlock angrily crossed his arms in front of his chest and arched one of his eyebrows, waiting for an actual answer to his question. Taking a deep breath, you explained your situation to the man: Beginning with the story of how the knights kept kidnapping girls from your town and in which state they brought them back, if they brought them back at all. Then you told him how helpless the people were, how everyone with a daughter lived in constant fear that she would be next. You told him that you had seen him all those nights ago when he took the girl’s life to rid her from her suffering. Through all of it his face remained blank just the cat got up from where it was curled up, walking around its owner’s feet. “I need your help. We all do,” you ended your speech, “I know it’s within your powers to take lives. We need help getting rid of these royals. We can’t keep living like this, they will keep taking girls until there are no more left and I can’t just watch and wait until they take me. Please, we have no means of doing anything against them.”

“No.” “What do you mean no?” You asked the warlock who had scooped up his lithe cat into his arms and turned to walk back into his house. “I’m not doing it. It’s no use to interfere with royals, they never change.” “But you could help the whole town. We are being terrorized, every week the guards come and take another girl with them and they either never come back or they are so traumatized they can’t even speak about whatever has happened to them and we can only tend to their wounds. I am begging you,” you pleaded but the warlock didn’t turn back around, only his cat seemed to listen who had climbed onto his shoulder, looking at you from its big amber eyes. “I’ll do anything. Take me, take my body, I don’t care. I just don’t want them to break me.” “Anything you say?” The man asked, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t want them to have control over my body,” you whispered, “You can’t do anything worse to me than what the royals are doing to those girls.”

After a beat of silence, the cat meowed loudly, jumping down from the man’s shoulder to walk over to you again, cocking its head as if it was evaluating you. “I’m not going to do it,” the warlock repeated but before you could protest, he turned around again, locking his piercing green eyes with yours, “But I am going to teach you so you can do it yourself.” “It’s not going to be nice or easy,” he continued, looking you up and down once, then twice, “Take that thing off, we won’t need it where we are headed.” He motioned to the cross you had dangling around your neck; your only possession of any worth. “It has protected me from evil up until now,” you protested, closing your fist around it. “Woman. What did the priests tell you where me and my brothers and sisters have gotten our powers from?” The warlock asked, his green eyes almost glowing. You had never heard a man saying the word ‘priest’ with so much hatred and disgust. “They say you’ve made a deal with the... With the devil,” you stuttered. “For once that is a piece of truth that those fat men are speaking,” he snarled, “We are not born with these powers, we have to offer Satan a piece of ourselves in exchange for the powers he grants us with and he won’t be pleased to see that symbol of lies and oppression around your neck.”

For a while you stood still in front of the warlock who had come so close to you that you could count every single chain link on the chain that was hanging from the cartilage of his ear. “How badly do you want to make those good-for-nothing-royals to pay for what they have done?” He spoke lowly, lifting his hand to slowly caress your jaw. You took a shaky breath and met his eyes again. “More than anything in my life.” “Then this shouldn’t be a problem,” he rasped before he grabbed your necklace and ripped it straight off, throwing it into the woods. Shaking off the shock, you quickly followed him and his cat into the little house that seemed to burst from its seams: Herbs, candles and different bones hanging from the ceiling and sitting on almost every available surface.

“Just sit on the sofa and don’t distract me,” the warlock said, starting to rummage through drawers. “Are you going to tell me your name?” You carefully asked after you had sat down on the only free space of the sofa, the cat quickly joining you, “In the town they just call you ‘the outcast’ if they speak about you.” The man snorted loudly. “I like that title but you can call me Yuta.” Yuta. You had never heard that name before. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” “I am not. Not that it is any of your business. I am just going to help you to get your revenge on those royals. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You nodded, idly stroking the black cat in your lap who had started purring loudly. You hadn’t expected the warlock to act like he did. You had come here expecting to bribe him with either money or even your body. It hadn’t fully sunken in that Yuta would turn you into a witch by making a deal with the devil. But you had a mission. You couldn’t just watch another girl getting taken by the knights to become a toy for some royal asshole that would throw her away like a broken shield. You really hoped that the whole process wouldn’t take long. The longer you needed to wait with your revenge, the more girls would get taken and never be the same again.

“What’s its name?” You asked curiously after you had been stroking the cat’s fur for a while. “He’s called Ten,” Yuta answered while grabbing different stones and skulls from the drawers of his giant cupboard that was covering the length of a whole wall. “Like the number?” “He’s the tenth child of a tenth child. Don’t underestimate him just because he looks like a cat.” “But what could he do?” You were confused. “A lot more than your mortal brain could imagine,” a smooth voice answered instead of Yuta’s and it took you a second before you realized it had been the cat who had spoken. “Did the cat just speak?” You squeaked. “I didn’t hear anything,” the warlock grinned and left the room to search for more ingredients. “He did just tell you my name, don’t go around calling me ‘the cat’ now,” the voice spoke again. You looked down to the cat that was curled up in your lap to find him looking right back at you with a stare that should have been way too intense for a mere cat. “How do you do that?” You whispered. “Does he know you can talk?” “You think he would survive out here on his own for years on end if he didn’t have me to talk to?” “But he said he doesn’t hear you.” “Because I am talking to you right now and not to him,” Ten stated as if this was the most normal thing in the world while he was cleaning his fur.

“Don’t believe anything he is telling you. Everything he’s telling you about me is made up,” Yuta said when he came back to the room, a dagger in his hands.  “I sincerely hope you aren’t scared of blood because otherwise this is going to be difficult.” You swallowed dryly, looking at the size of that dagger, but slowly shook your head. Yuta’s green eyes fixated on yours for a couple of moments before he nodded, wrapping the dagger in a cloth with multiple questionable stains. “I’m assuming you have saved your virtue?” You felt the heat rise to your face at his question, never had you met such a man who would ask questions like that so directly and unashamed. “I- I have,” you stuttered, feeling the need to cover your burning cheeks. “That saves us a lot of trouble,” Yuta nodded, grabbing some more things that he had scattered around the house.

“We need to walk for a bit, I am not opening a gate to hell in my garden again. The smell is horrible to get rid of,” the warlock called after he had found everything he needed and had rolled it into a cloth for transportation.   “The smell?” “Have you ever been present at a burning of a supposed witch? That’s the smell. But amplified,” Ten provided from his space on the sofa cushions. “Already scared?” Yuta asked with a smirk on his plush lips when he saw your scandalized expression. “No,” you answered, squaring your shoulders, “I’ll do whatever it takes.” “You better,” he grinned and opened the door of his home, leading you into the forest, further up the hill.

Soon you reached a little clearing where the soil seemed oddly burned where Yuta dropped his bundle of supplies. “You do this here often?” You asked curiously, looking around the area. “Opening a gate to hell? No. But sometimes it is fun to mess with demons,” he answered, winking mischievously, making your heart skip a beat. “Demons are a thing?” “Of course they are,” the warlock giggled, wiggling his eyebrows while pulling a smaller sachet from his makeshift bag, “Just stand in the middle of the burned area and don’t move.”

Nodding you followed his orders and watched him paint a perfect circle around you with the white powder from the sachet. After he had finished the circle, he painted lines through it, creating a pentagram. Satisfied with his work he pulled candles and crystals from his bag next, placing them at the edges of the pentagram and lighting the candles with a mere flick of his wrist. Next he grabbed a skull from his bag, placing it at your feet. “Now to the less comfortable part,” Yuta mumbled, pulling the dagger from its wrappings, “Hold out your arms and don’t move whatever happens. Your innocence is what keeps this whole thing from falling apart.” Slowly you held up your arms and he rolled up your sleeves. You prayed that he wouldn’t notice how you were trying to fight the way your arms were shaking but of course it didn’t slip his sharp eyes. “Nervous?” He grinned. “You are about to summon the literal devil, telling me I am what makes or breaks this ritual. Of course I am nervous,” you stammered, balling your hands to control the shaking. “Cute. Nervous about the ritual and not about losing your humanity for a petty revenge,” the warlock laughed. Before you could reply, he had quickly pulled the dagger across his palm without even batting an eye. “Now brace yourself.” He walked along the perimeter of the circle again, speaking in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice carrying a different weight than before, like he was speaking with multiple voices at once. When he had completed the circle, he closed off his wound with another flick of his wrist before walking towards you, still chanting the foreign words. Once he stood in front of you, he slowly raised the blade, locking eyes with you once before he dragged it over your exposed arms, making your blood seep from the cut.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the whimper inside that was trying to fight its way past your lips. You were not showing the warlock any more weaknesses than you already had; you could do this. Yuta kept his eyes to where more and more blood was coming to the surface, watching the droplets come together to drip off your arm. As soon as the first droplet hit the ground, the atmosphere around you changed: There were no more birds singing or wind ruffling through the leaves of the trees and it seemed to have gotten darker, almost unnaturally so, the candles supplying the only light on the clearing. A heartbeat later, the flames shot up high into the air, causing you to flinch. You fought your instinct to turn on the spot to run away. You needed to do this. Needed to do this for the sake of your town’s people. “Relax,” Yuta whispered into your ear, slowly turning your arms so the cuts were facing down, making more blood drop, “The devil is a lot nicer than the priests make him out to be.” You took a deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart which turned out to be a mistake: Your lungs were filled with the smell of burning air and sulfur, the smell so overbearing that you felt like you were suffocating. “Even breaths, in the mouth and out the nose,” Yuta whispered when he sensed your panic, gripping your arms tightly from where he was standing behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to even out your breathing while the scent of fire and burnt flesh got stronger with each breath you took. “Yuta, I can’t”, you heaved. “You can and you will,” he replied, voice stern, his nails digging into your skin. You tried to focus on the pain he was inflicting on you, the way the cuts stung and the way the blood was seeping from your flesh. You had no idea how much blood you had lost but your head was getting dizzy and your legs weak. “Don’t quit on me now,” you heard Yuta hiss through the fog that started to cloud your brain, “We’re almost there.” His grip on you tightened significantly when a loud crack resonated in the air not unlike to when a strike of lightning had hit its target. If it was possible, the smell only became more potent and the heat the candles gave off intensified tenfold. When you heard a deep rumbling laugh, Yuta turned your arms back around so the wounds on your forearms were facing upward again.

“My lord,” you heard the warlock speak, addressing whoever he had just summoned with the help of your blood. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, it was all too much: the heat, the smell and the stinging in your arms. If you were to see whatever was happening right in front of you, you were sure your brain would either forget how to breathe or how to keep holding your body up. You were already resting most of your weight on the warlock. “You brought me a new lamb,” a deep voice filled the space around you that seemed to come from every direction at once, covering you like a cloud. “Her cause is a noble one.” The voice chuckled. “Ready to give yourself over to me?” When you didn’t reply, Yuta pinched you again and you managed to squeeze out an affirmation even though your throat felt as if it was made out of sandpaper, your voice sounding gravely and foreign to your ears. “It’s over soon, my little lamb,” the voice rumbled, “I take good care of what is mine.” Whatever who you assumed to be the devil did next, filled your body with excruciating pain. It began from the cut in your arms and it felt like he had filled your veins with liquid fire that burned its way through your every fiber, taking over every thought in your brain. A silent scream left your lips and all you could remember before passing out were a pair of piercing green eyes and the smell of sulfur.

When you regained consciousness it was in the comfort of a soft mattress beneath a thick blanket. You carefully blinked your eyes open a couple of times, trying to get the herbs hanging from the ceiling into focus. Once you could make out the little flowers on the branch of lavender, you let your gaze wander. Opposite of you stood a big mirror in front of what you assumed was a closet made out of mismatched wood with intricate carvings. Yuta must have brought you back to his cabin. Which meant that you were currently laying in his bed. The thought made blood rush to your head and you instinctively hid yourself in the softness of the blanket even though no one was around to see you. Like this his smell invaded your senses. It was earthy yet spicy. Dangerous. You sighed and let the smell comfort you, closing your eyes again.

Your limbs still felt heavy but after checking quickly, the wounds on your arms were gone, not even the smallest scar left. How long had you been unconscious for?  With how tired you still felt, it couldn’t have been for long, but the sun that was shining through the curtains told a different story. Outside you could hear birds chirping and if you focused just enough you could hear a cat meowing, probably Ten. Smiling you let your mind wander, letting the sounds of the animals relax you. But while you were counting your breaths to empty your mind, you couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. With every breath you took, you mind didn’t become more empty, instead you were feeling more and more: First it was just the way the blanket was scratching your bare arms and legs. Then you thought you were able to feel the herbs that were strung up to dry above your head. And somehow you could tell that Ten was no longer meowing in the garden, probably talking to Yuta but that he was walking towards the window of the bedroom.

You quickly opened your eyes and sat up straight in the bed just as his paws met the windowsill. “You’re awake,” his voice filled your head. You could just nod, staring at the cat in disbelief. How had you been able to predict that he was jumping into the room the exact moment that he did? “Feeling different yet?” Ten asked on, smoothly jumping onto the mattress. “Not really but you do,” you confessed. From up close he still looked the same but something was different. He felt bigger? Older? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But what you knew for sure now was that he wasn’t just a talking cat. Yuta had been right, Ten was much more than his body made it seem. “I’m still the same,” he chuckled, neatly folding his tail around his sitting form, “But you certainly are different.” “How can you tell?” “Just take a look at yourself.” Both scared and curious you looked up and met your reflection in the mirror but the eyes that were looking back at you, weren’t your own. Your image in the mirror eyed you with deep emerald green eyes and if the light was not tricking your eyes, your hair had changed color as well. It wasn’t as vibrant as Yuta’s but it was definitely red. “So it is true that witches have red hair,” you mumbled under your breath, raking your hands through your hair to feel the strands. “Most witches have red hair but not all with red hair are witches and warlocks,” Ten confirmed.

Just with Ten before, you had a feeling that Yuta would enter the room before the door moved to reveal his body. “It’s about time you wake up, little witch,” the warlock grumbled. Today he had his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strands of his unruly hair escaping it and curling at his nape. His piercing eyes scanned over your body quickly before he met yours. “Do you feel them yet?” “Feel whom?” “The energies around you,” Yuta replied as if it was a self-explanatory thing. When you kept quiet and just looked at him from big, unknowing eyes, he groaned and ran a hand over his face. “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.” “It would probably be easier, if you didn’t speak in riddles,” you mumbled under your breath but he must have caught it anyways. “Don’t give me this attitude or you won’t learn anything at all. I might be responsible for you now but I won’t feed you your lessons with silver spoon, you have to work for it. Starting now. Get dressed and meet me outside,” Yuta clarified and turned to left the room but halted in his steps. “And you won’t help her either, Ten. She needs to do this on her own.” Ten just meowed loudly and for some reason you could tell that he did not agree with how Yuta planned on training you. Were this the energies Yuta was talking about?

Once both the warlock and his companion had left the room, you quickly got dressed and headed outside only to find out that you were alone on the clearing. “Come on, this isn’t funny,” you groaned, looking around the house, “I didn’t come here to almost bleed out in a stupid ritual and then to be mocked.” But no one answered you. Yuta and Ten kept hiding. Wait, hiding? Why would they be hiding? Where did that thought come from? You let out a frustrated groan again and sat down on a patch of grass right in the middle of the clearing. “This is stupid, Yuta. I don’t know what to do,” you grumbled, picking at the grass and ripping out little pieces. But that did nothing to calm you down, it only got you more worked up for some reason.

“Take a deep breath and listen to your gut,” you heard Ten’s gentle voice resound inside your head. When you didn’t react and kept ripping out grass, he added: “Yuta is just as stubborn as you, he’ll not come out and I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” “This is so stupid!” You groaned again, letting your body fall back into the grass. When Ten didn’t answer, you took a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself back down. Why were you so irritated anyways? It really wasn’t like you. Closing your eyes, you started to count your breaths to calm your temper. That was when you felt it. Like a flame burning inside you: Bright and flickering wildly. Carefully you reached out to the flame and strangely enough it didn’t burn you, it felt welcome. Like coming home and you couldn’t help but smile. “Are you going to help me find Yuta and Ten?” You whispered. As if the flame was answering, it twitched slightly and calmed down a little. In turn you also felt calmer than you had been seconds ago. Taking another breath, you kept your eyes closed, focusing on the light your little flame shone and from your peripheral vision it seemed like there was another flame. It was a different color and seemed bigger than yours from what you could tell. Opening your eyes again, you quickly got up and walked over into the treeline where you had felt the flame.

“Are you going to throw a temper tantrum every lesson?” Yuta called you out when you had found him, lounging high in a tree eating an apple. You couldn’t fight the heat that crept up your neck, it had been rather childish in retro sight. “You gave me zero instructions,” you tried to rationalize it. “I didn’t have much more to go off from either when I gained my powers,” he argued and jumped down, “So lesson number one.” He patted down his pants once which did exactly nothing for the stains in the fabric before he placed his palm flat on your chest, making your breath hitch. “That in there is your energy. Get to know it. Learn how to read it. It’s where we draw our powers from, where every living being draws their energy from, they’re just not aware of it. If you concentrate and learn how to utilize it to your advantage, you’ll be able to feel other’s energies much more clearly and you will be able to manipulate them.” You nodded along with Yuta’s words even though you couldn’t quite grasp what it all would mean for you. “It’s overwhelming at first,” the warlock smiled, patting your chest before dropping his arm, “But I am here to help as long as you are willing to work with me and not throw a temper tantrum.” “Thank you,” you mumbled, smiling back at Yuta. “It’s thank you, master now,” he grinned. “Now go find Ten, I can tell he’s getting irritated.”

Nodding, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “His hiding spot is a bit far away, I’ll guide you,” Yuta promised, taking one of your hands in his and you felt warmth spread through your body, comforting you. Smiling, you took another breath. You could do this, if Yuta was there to guide you, you could learn to use your powers.

Over the course of the next days and weeks, you stayed with Yuta and Ten. The warlock taught you how to handle all the new things you were able to feel and how to manipulate the different energies around you. At night while you were lying on the little old mattress Yuta had dug up somewhere, Ten often joined you for some ear scratches and told you stories about old witches and warlocks who had become mad in their hunt for power or about incredible pioneers that had written the big spell books Yuta had yet to show you. You had gotten somewhat close with your master as well but you never quite understood him completely. One moment he seemed like he’d rather be literally anywhere else when you were struggling with molding the energies like he had both explained and showed you and the next moment he told you the most shocking made-up stories only to laugh at your face when you had actually believed him. But since he was the only other human you had contact with in a while, you grew attached to him quickly, always gravitating towards him even when he was doing mandatory tasks like cooking or cleaning (which admittedly wasn’t very often).

One rainy afternoon though, the warlock seemed more grim than usual. He had yet to teach you anything today; he had just asked you to grab a few herbs he was running low on. When you had asked Ten what was going on with Yuta, he had only given you a very cryptic answer before he had disappeared. “Something is different today,” you tried to initiate a conversation when the warlock wouldn’t talk to you while he was stirring something in a small cauldron over the fire. “What makes you think that?” “You haven’t taught me anything yet and refuse to talk to me. Ten is also nowhere to be found and he hates the rain.” “Wrong answer,” Yuta cut you off, “You’re still thinking like a regular human.” “I am still human,” you argued. At that your master just snorted, closing the lid on the copper cauldron louder than he needed to. “You’re so much more than just a human; you just need to finally acknowledge it. You came here seeking revenge on those who wronged your people and who abused their powers.” “And I still want them to pay for what they did to those girls.” “You want them gone.” It wasn’t a question. Yuta locked eyes with you: Piercing green meeting yours that were a little more muted. “They don’t deserve to keep living their lives like that. They need to be taught a lesson.” The warlock slowly nodded before he lowered the heat of the fire with a flick of his hand. “Get your cloak.” “Where are we going?” You asked, slipping on the thick fabric and following Yuta outside.

“You tell me,” he answered, motioning for the forest. “Stop toying with me.” “Use your senses, woman,” he spat, “Figure it out.” Huffing in annoyance, you closed your eyes, concentrating on your own energy that swirled inside your chest, feeling it like a small flame before you turned your eyes outward, feeling Yuta’s energy right next to you. His flame was bigger and seemingly less controlled than your own, a little deeper in color and burning hotter than yours. “Stop spying on me,” he spoke lowly, sounding almost amused. Slowly you expanded your sight, feeling the animals hiding from the rain beneath the leaves of the trees and in little caves, feeling the power of the stream that lead into the valley, feeling... Feeling something that was not right. “What is that?” You asked, trying to pinpoint where this energy was coming from. “You tell me,” Yuta spoke lowly, careful to not break your concentration. “Something isn’t right. Near the stream.” The warlock hummed, slowly approaching you to place a hand on your shoulder. Bit by bit you could feel the warmth of his powers mingle with your own, sharpening your senses, his energy guiding yours in the right direction. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only intensified but the comforting warmth of your master made you push further, looking for the source. “See it now?” “It’s a man,” you gasped, your senses almost recoiling when you found him. He was unlike any energy you had ever felt before. His energy felt off, you couldn’t quite describe it. “How does he feel?” Yuta’s low voice calmed you down again, encouraging you to look closer. “Wrong. Something is not right about him. His energy is small but it feels like it’s too warm. Like he’s about to burst.” “Do you know where he is?” “Near the bridge that leads to my town.”

“Alright,” Yuta spoke, sounding content with your analysis and you could feel his energy leave you, signalizing you to come back to the little house as well. Slowly you blinked your eyes open. “What is wrong with the man?” “He is not a good man,” your master spoke, “We’re going to kill him.” You wanted to protest, to tell him that you couldn’t just kill a man. But something, maybe a voice in the back of your head, told you that you could. And more importantly that you should. Wordlessly you followed Yuta to the path that would lead you towards the bridge.

“Remember what I told you about energies when you first felt them?” “We can neither create energy out of nowhere nor can we just make it disappear. We can just change the nature of the energy,” you recited dutifully. “And what does that tell you?” “We can’t rule over life and death.” “Not exactly,” Yuta agreed. “But you took that girl’s life when you came to heal her,” you argued. “I used up all the energy her body had left in it to heal the wounds that were hidden beneath her skin. I killed by healing her. After all her energy was used up, her heart stopped beating just like that.” “Is that what you’re going to teach me?” “No. that man’s body is healthy as far as I could tell,” Yuta shook his head, halting in his steps so you could meet his eyes again. “You might recognize him when we meet him. I need you to keep a level head and do exactly as I say or you might never get the revenge you want to get so badly.” You throat suddenly felt dryer than it had ever been and you tried to swallow down the feeling of fear that had begun to crawl up your spine.

“Swear that you’re going to do as I say,” Yuta pushed, holding out one of his arms. From what Ten had told you, Yuta was asking you to make an oath and those were not to be taken lightly. But you trusted Yuta. You trusted your master. He might have questionable methods to teach you certain things but he was a capable and strong warlock. Nodding, you held out your hand as well and he forcefully grabbed your forearm which you quickly copied. You could feel energy coming off of him, weaving around where you two were connected. “Say it.” “I swear I will do as you say as soon as we meet this man,” you said, your voice sounding deeper than it usually did, carrying a weight it only did when you tried to cast a spell. “And I will in turn swear to protect you and guide you through what we’re about to do,” Yuta promised, squeezing your arm tightly before his energy recoiled and he loosened the grip. “You’re going to make me kill him,” you breathed into the silence that stretched on. “I will,” he confirmed and turned around to keep making your way towards the strange man.

To say you were absolutely terrified was an understatement, your heart was hammering wildly inside your chest and you were sure Yuta must feel how unruly your energy was becoming. “Calm down,” he spoke, “Once you see him, you will feel differently.” “Can’t we start with something a little less drastic?” You pleaded. You weren’t ready for this. “What use does it have? You have learned everything you need to know about manipulating energies. The energy in humans is no different than the energy in a fire or in a plant and you’re doing well manipulating those. You’re ready for the next step.” “Yuta, I can’t,” you begged, swallowing down the taste of bile you suddenly had in your mouth. “You can and you’re going to,” he replied, a tone of finality in his voice, “Now be quiet, we’re almost there.” You had half a mind to scream so the man would run away when there wouldn’t be this voice in your head telling you that this man was no good. Taking a deep breath, you quickly followed your master until you arrived at the bridge, hiding between the bushes.

“He’s not far,” Yuta promised, “I’ll explain it once, listen closely: You will wait for him on the bridge. Make him stop so it’s easier for you to get a grasp on his energy. Just like you do it when you’re putting out a fire, you’re going to tug. Expect resistance because while every energy has the will to exist, human energy usually resists a little harder than just fire.” “What am I going to do with his energy?” You asked, proud that your voice wasn’t breaking. “It’s going to be a lot more energy than you can hold unlike with fires. You need to release it. Find something you can direct it to.” You bit your lip and nodded shakily. Sensing your discomfort, Yuta reached out and grabbed your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. “I’m right behind you. I swore to protect you. If you fail to redirect it, I’ll do it before it eats you alive. But I do not want you to not try. Keep a level head.” Taking a couple of beep breaths, you tried to calm down. Yuta must have his reasons he wanted you to kill this man. He wasn’t unjust. You trusted your master. “Now go out there and wait for him. Maybe stretch your senses to find something to redirect the energy to,” he smiled, making your heart flutter for completely different reasons.

Following your masters orders, you stepped out onto the bridge, pulling your hood further into your face so it would be obscured to the man and briefly stretched out your senses like Yuta had suggested. You could feel the weird energy of the man approach, accompanied by another energy that might belong to his horse. Other than that you couldn’t feel much. The safest way was probably to redirect the energy to the water flowing in the stream. You couldn’t think about any other possibilities because the sounds of hooves approached quickly, revealing the horseman. He abruptly stopped his horse when he saw you blocking his path. “Move!” He yelled but you didn’t budge. In fact you were frozen in place when you recognized the man.

He was one of the knights of the king. But not just any knight. Images from summer flashed your mind: The man had stayed at the inn when it was too late to make the travel back to the castle after he had laughed at the girl he had brought back. In the inn he had drunk enough for three men and boasted about what a great lover he was and that the women could never get enough of him. You felt rage rise inside you. This man was rotten to the core. Yuta had been right, he had no rights to live a comfortable life after he had destroyed the life of so many girls and women. “Move!” He called again but you stayed right where you were, slowly lowering your hood so he could see the dark red color of your hair. “A little witch bitch,” the knight spat, dismounting his horse, a big grin on his face, “The lord will be delighted when I bring you to him.” “You disgust me,” you growled, feeling your energy burn brighter inside you, itching to rip the rotten flame from this poor excuse of a man. Behind you, you could feel Yuta’s own energy shift but you paid it no mind. He wouldn’t interfere. This was your test.

The knight slowly approached you, step after step and you could already smell that he reeked of alcohol. “Stop right there,” you demanded, focusing on his energy. Against your expectation he actually halted in his steps before he started to laugh at you. That was it. You wouldn’t allow him to harm another person anymore. Determined, you reached out with your own energy, gripping his firmly and tugging just like you had learned it. The man promptly choked on his laugh, clutching his chest tightly, looking at you with wide eyes. His lips moved with silent pleas and it only made you feel more disgusted than you already were. How did he have the audacity to beg for forgiveness after all he had done? “You disgust me,” you spat before you tugged for a last time, feeling how the energy separated from his body that limply fell to the ground. A great sense of satisfaction filled you and you couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled from your chest. You could feel his energy course through and around you, seemingly growing now that it wasn’t trapped anymore, latching onto your body as it was the closest living thing. The feeling was indescribable. To feel this much energy coursing through you was incredible but after a moment you knew that you couldn’t hold it, the foreign energy trying to force itself inside you alongside your own energy.

Redirect. You had to redirect it before it ate you alive. Your eyes flickered from the trees to the end of the bridge to the sky above you, covered by dark storm clouds. Without thinking too much, you balled up your own energy, giving the foreign one a firm push upwards, forcing it out of your body and towards the clouds instead. Like a thread that suddenly snapped, the energy left you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

A loud rumbling noise could be heard from above and you knew that you hadn’t made the smartest decision with where you had redirected the energy to. The next thing you felt was a firm chest that you were pressed against and the smell of burning wood and static filling the air. “My little apprentice,” Yuta whispered fondly, gently cupping your cheek. His green eyes were sparkling and if you didn’t know better, you would say that he looked proud of what you had done. “Did I do good?” You asked, looking around his shoulder to see the damage on the bridge. A flash of lightning must have hit it exactly where you and the man’s corpse had been just moments prior, the wood now black and burning. “You did better than I had ever whished for,” Yuta answered, pressing your shivering body tightly against his chest, whispering words of praise into your hair as the reality of what you had just done came crushing down to you, making your body shake with the sobs you let out. You hated yourself for crying. But you weren’t crying for the man. He had deserved what had happened to him. You were crying because it was you who had done it. You weren’t just a human anymore and Yuta had forced you to accept it. You weren’t what was considered normal. You had special powers now, dangerous powers and the only other person that could ever understand and shared the weight that came with those powers was holding you in his arms right now.

“Let’s go home,” Yuta gently spoke, pressing a kiss to your hair and you could only nod and try to not get lost in his eyes when he loosened his grip on you.

“You’re ready.” Puzzled you looked up from where you were reading in one of the big spellbooks in the armchair in front of the fire, Ten curled up in your lap. “You’re ready to get your revenge. You know all you need to know,” Yuta explained himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest where he was leaning against his kitchen counter. When you still couldn’t find the words to tell your master how you were feeling, he continued: “It’s not far to the castle from here. The lord is having a banquet in the evening; all of the royals will be gathered. It’s a great opportunity. You shouldn’t miss it. Ten can show you the way.” “You’re not coming with me?” You asked in a small voice. As much as you still wanted the royals to pay, you had thought that Yuta would help you when it came down to get your revenge. The castle was filled with guards and knights after all. How were you supposed to get in and out of there without being seen? Especially when your plan was to kill the rotten men in charge. “I told you I wouldn’t kill anyone for you. I promised to teach you everything you needed to know so you can get your revenge. And I have done that. There is much more to our powers than just this but I did what I promised and now it’s time for you to do what you need to do.” Before you could argue or voice your concerns, Ten stretched his body in your lap so he could glare at Yuta, a disapproving sound leaving his throat. “Shut up, cat,” Yuta just growled when Ten wouldn’t stop complaining, angrily hissing by now. “I don’t care what you think,” the warlock exclaimed, throwing on his cloak, “Take her to the castle.” After taking a deep breath, he turned to lock eyes with you, a sad smile playing on his lips and added: “Make me proud my little apprentice.”

With that you were left alone in Yuta’s house that had become your home as well. You couldn’t understand the words he had just said. He was throwing you out. Had it all just been this to him and nothing more? Was he just trying to fulfill his promise all these weeks? Did you mean nothing to him? “He is a headstrong idiot,” Ten sighed, his smooth voice like honey for your soul, “You belong here with us and he will realize that eventually.” “Thank you,” you whispered, scratching Ten behind his ears until his purring filled the silence of the room. “And I am not just saying that because Yuta can’t seem to get that spot right there,” he added. You couldn’t hold your giggle, fondly smiling at the cat that you had gotten so close with. “He is right about you being ready though. We should leave soon.” “I have no idea how I should get in and out though. The place must be bursting with guards,” you voiced your concerns. “You would be surprised by how careless the royals are sometimes, they think they’re invincible.” Taking a deep breath, you felt out your own energy, feeling your fire burn brighter with excitement that you could finally give the royals what they deserved. “I’ll show them just how vulnerable they still are,” you said, your voice sounding more determined than you could have wished for. “That’s my girl,” Ten cheered you on, jumping from your lap onto the floor. “I’ll bring you to the castle but I won’t be a big help in this body.” You just nodded, gathering some things you had wanted to take with you: A couple of charged gems and the little dagger Yuta had given you a while back with a slender blade but sharpened to perfection. Lastly you got your cloak to conceal your red hair and green eyes that were a dead giveaway of your true nature. “Ready?” Ten asked, waiting for you outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answered, following the creature inside the forest.

When the castle came in sight, you said your farewell to Ten, squeezing his lithe body against your chest to his great dismay. Many people were bringing different things through the big gates and carriage after carriage brought in more supposedly rich and important people. For a while you just leaned against the big walls that surrounded the castle, feeling out the different energies. Of course there were the ordinary energies from the servants and most of the guards that were patrolling mostly on the high walls but the deeper you felt inside the castle, the more rotten energies you could feel, making you sick to the stomach. Your rage was only fueled when you carefully made your way into the courtyard and you could feel distressed and terrified energies further into the castle as well, some of their flames so terrifyingly small that they must belong to some kidnapped girls who were barely holding on to their life.

Waiting for a chance to slip into the more private rooms of the castle, you watched the servants scrambling around behind their masters who for the most time either ignored or scolded them and when a lady screamed at a little boy who had tripped and let some of the stuff he had been carrying drop to the floor, you couldn’t help yourself but to give her energy a quick push only enough to make her heart stutter once before she lost her footing and fell herself. The secret smile the boy quickly hid behind a blank expression was enough thanks for you.

“When is this fortune teller coming around?” One of the guards suddenly asked another one who had just come out of the castle. “She should have been here since the morning and the lord is getting restless, he is snapping at every servant who is coming into his chambers.” A fortune teller? That seemed almost too perfect to be true. Pulling your hood further into your face, you slipped from the shadows and made your way towards the guards. “Good afternoon,” you greeted the guards, honey dripping from your voice, “The lord of this castle sent for me, he wished to know about his future.” The older of the guards slowly let his gaze wander over your form before he reached out a hand to lower your hood. “Don’t,” you hissed, taking a step back. “Come on, leave her alone,” the younger groaned, “I can’t take the lord’s bad mood anymore.” The older one gave you one last once-over before he deemed you no threat and shrugged his shoulders. “You bring her to him, I’m going to the kitchens.”

If you had known how easy it would be to see the lord, you wouldn’t have been this nervous before entering the castle. “Wait in here for him,” the guard told you after he had dropped you off in a small saloon that was just filled with a big sofa and a vanity that displayed big jewels. In the middle of the room stood a small table with a crystal ball on top and you could only barely hold in your laughter. The only problem with this room was that there was nothing you could redirect the lord’s energy to once you had killed him. No fire or plants. This was anything but ideal. Hastily you sat down in front of the crystal ball when you felt the lord approach. You needed a different plan. Either you needed to let this perfect opportunity pass and try to kill him later or you had to do it without your powers. Suddenly the dagger in your pocket felt like it was as heavy as a bag of stones, the handle digging into your hand. You couldn’t let this opportunity pass. You had to take it. Even if it meant that you had to kill him like this. You could do this. This was no different than the guard you had killed.

When you felt the energy of the lord approach, you took another deep breath, searching out your energy for comfort. “Leave us alone,” the lord’s voice commanded the guard who had lead him inside and just like that you were alone with him in the room. You had never seen the lord in person and you didn’t know what you had expected but you thought that his appearance suited his energy: He was a rather small man with greasy black hair. His stomach was rounded and he smelled like he had bathed in perfume to gloss over how bad he smelled. “Finally you are here,” he spoke and even his voice was unattractive, his tone nasally and off pitch, likely from too much alcohol. You just wordlessly nodded your head, not deeming him worthy for words of greetings either. “Sit down so we can get started.”   “I don’t like your attitude woman,” he snarled, looking down at you from his reddened eyes, “You are different than the last one that came.” “I have my special ways to see what the future holds for you,” you simply answered, dragging your dagger from your pocket and placing it onto the table. At that the unruly eyebrows of the man shot up. “Are you threatening me?” “I would never dare to,” you gritted, fighting the sarcasm from creeping into your tone, “But nothing is purer than what your blood could tell me.”

The lord seemed to think about your words for a while, if he was even capable of that. But his energy seemed to calm down after a while when he sat down opposite of you. “Very well,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of the gems you had and placed them on the table, “Please hold your palms up.” When the lord did as you asked, you took a deep breath and willed your hands to not shake when you were grabbing for the dagger. It was rather small in comparison to Yuta’s favorite ones but it should do its job just as good as any other dagger he had in his collection. You really hadn’t thought all of this through. But you needed to do this. For all the girls living on this lord’s lands. You weren’t close enough to him to hurt him much with the dagger and if you weren’t quick enough and he’d sense your true intentions, he would call for the guards. And when you had nowhere to redirect their energy to, you were basically helpless.

“I don’t have all day,” the lord complained when you hadn’t moved after a while. “I was concentrating on your energy, you disgusting piece of shit,” you spat out, making an on-the-spot decision to stop the charade. Quickly, before he could even completely fathom your words, you gave his energy a push to render him breathless for a while which gave you just enough time to leap over the table to ram your dagger into the fat of his neck. With a furiously beating heart, you watched his eyes widen and his throat gurgle with the blood that was flowing into his lungs and seeping from the wound when you pulled your dagger back out. Unable to move your body, you watched him convulse in pain until he stopped moving altogether, his eyes open wide and unseeing. Slowly you could feel his flame getting smaller and smaller until you couldn’t detect it anymore. You had done it. The lord was dead.

Just like the last time when you had killed, the reality came crashing back down to you after the adrenaline had seeped from your body and you felt your hand shaking that still clutched the dagger tightly. When you looked down and saw it covered in the lord’s blood, you instinctively let the dagger fall, the noise unnaturally loud in the silent room.  Your breathing picked up and you felt panic rise in your chest. How were you going to get back out of here? You were drenched in blood and people would surely start to miss the lord soon. Yuta had been wrong, you weren’t ready for this. Bile rose too your mouth and tears were collecting in your eyes. You were done for; they would burn you in the courtyard while laughing at you for your foolish plan to take all the rotten royals out.

“My little apprentice,” a voice said behind you and through your tears you looked up into Yuta’s familiar face. “What are you doing here?” You sobbed, balling your blood smeared hands to fists, your nails digging into your palms. “I thought you had left me.” “Watching out for you, what else?” He smiled, pulling you away from the lord’s corpse and against his chest, not minding that you were staining his cloak with blood. His calming energy engulfed you like a cloud and slowly evened out your own untamed energy and eventually helped you to even out your breathing. “There are a lot more people here than I expected,” you mumbled when your tears had stopped falling, growing basically boneless in Yuta’s hold. “We’re going to take care of them together,” Yuta promised, pressing a kiss to your hair before he loosened his hold on you and took a look around the lord’s room, picking up some of the expensive looking jewelry that was laying around.

“The banquet has already begun,” you spoke after you had felt out the remaining rotten energies, all bundled up in the big hall, “They will become suspicious if he’s not coming down soon.” “I have always had a thing for dramatic entrances,” the warlock grinned, loosening his cloak so it fell to the ground, “How about we interrupt this boring dinner they are having right now and heat this place up a little? There is this nice little fire in the fireplace to keep them warm but I feel like it could use a little more energy.” His words made you mirror the wicked grin that had started to spread on his lips. “Lead the way,” you spoke, ready to teach all the rotten royals a lesson. With Yuta by your side, you knew that you couldn’t fail.

Together you stood in front of the burning castle, a little further up the hill and hidden by trees, listening to the people screaming in agony. When you turned your head to look at Yuta, the orange flames of the fire beautifully illuminated his features despite the ashes that were clinging to his cheeks and the fact that he was missing half an eyebrow that must have gotten burned off, his lips crooked into a cocky grin. “Nothing more beautiful than the chaos some little flames can cause,” he spoke before he tore his gaze from the castle and looked at you instead. Tenderly he reached out to wipe the splatters of blood on your cheeks away, just smearing them further onto your skin in the process. “You look beautiful like this,” he whispered, his green eyes sparkling dangerously. “I’m a mess,” you argued, feeling how the blood on your hands was slowly drying. “The most beautiful mess I have ever seen.” Before you could argue any further, the warlock connected your lips in a bruising kiss, pressing your body close to his. He tasted of smoke, blood and danger but to you it tasted like the most intoxicating drink you ever had the pleasure of tasting.

“What are you doing, Yuta?” You breathed against his lips when his hands had slipped beneath your shirt, nails raking over the skin of your stomach. “Unleashing your full powers,” he groaned, all but ripping the garment over your head before roughly connecting your lips again. “What do you mean?” “Stop asking so many questions,” the warlock growled, sucking harshly on the skin of your neck, obviously not bothered by the blood clinging to your skin. You could just mewl and desperately clutch onto him, afraid your legs would give out. Once Yuta was satisfied with how dark the mark on your neck had turned he gripped your hair to yank your head back so he could kiss you again. Still high on the adrenaline from before, you shamelessly moaned into his mouth when he kept your strands of hair in a firm grip to angle your head just how he wanted. Grinning against your lips, he used his chance to slip his tongue between your parted lips, turning the kiss downright filthy. “Yuta,” you sighed when he parted from you, both of you panting heavily while staring into each other’s green eyes. Blood was smeared onto both of your faces now and you had stained his shirt with the blood clinging to our hands. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his hands wandering to where the wrappings around your chest were fastened, “Tell me to unleash your full potential, my little witch.” Before you could answer, he leaned in to steal another kiss while he tugged on the cloth that had kept your breasts covered. “You don’t even know how fucking hot you are like this,” he groaned against your lips, roughly grabbing your boobs to massage the soft flesh, sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Do it,” you moaned, arching your back towards the warlock, “Do it, Yuta.”

A deep growl came from his chest and with quick movements he rid himself of his singed shirt and stepped out of his pants to stand before you completely naked safe for the ashes and blood clinging to his skin. His cock was already hard and hanging heavy between his legs. With a dangerous smile on his spit slicked lips, he crowded you against the trunk of a tree, the bark digging roughly into your back. With only so much as a flick of his wrist, the warlock had you naked as well and raked his widely blown eyes over the exposed skin. “My little witch, so beautiful,” he rasped, pressing his lips to the mark he had created on your neck, making you hiss in both pain and pleasure. Chuckling he grabbed one of your thighs to wrap it around his waist, exposing your most private part to him. But before you even had time to think about what you were about to do and how improper it was, Yuta had snaked a hand between your bodies to cup your sex, slowly grinding the heel of his palm in your clit which tore a loud moan from your lips that mingled with the screams you could still hear in the distance.

A grin spread on Yuta’s lips when you threw your head back and moaned unashamed when one of his fingers played around your entrance, teasing but never slipping inside, making more and more wetness seep from your core. “You want it?” He asked, pinching the skin of your thigh that he still held tightly to get your attention. “I already told you to do it,” you whined, grinding your hips in an attempt to finally make his finger slip inside you. “When will my little apprentice finally learn to answer my questions properly?” He sighed, bringing his hand down on your wet folds, creating a wet slapping noise that brought blood to your face. The mixture of pain and pleasure made your head swim even more than the adrenaline had minutes ago. “Answer your master,” Yuta growled, bringing his hand down a second time, causing you to jolt in his hold. “Do it already,” you groaned, burying your hands in his unruly red hair to kiss him again, wasting no time to lick into his mouth. If anything you were a fast learner and tried to match Yuta in the kiss. While you were distracted with kissing the life out of him, he finally slipped one of his fingers inside you, making you gasp and break the kiss. “Feels good?” He grinned as he began to move his finger at a steady pace before quickly adding a second one, stretching you out. “Yeah, feels good, master,” you breathed. You could feel Yuta’s breath hitch against your lips before he let out a row of colorful curses, speeding up the motion of his fingers. “Say it again,” he growled. “Say what again?” You hiccupped, holding onto his shoulders tightly, the pleasure making your head swim. “Call me your master,” the warlock growled, crooking his fingers inside you so you saw stars behind your eyes, punching all air from your lungs. “Master, please,” you choked out, burying your nails in his shoulder to drag them down his back, leaving angry red lines and a trail of smeared blood.

Cursing, Yuta pulled his fingers from your core, making a distressed mewls leave your lips. He just chuckled breathlessly at your reaction but before you had the time to even feel ashamed, you felt the blunt head of his cock slip inside you, the feeling so foreign and overwhelming that you had to close your eyes. Yuta slowly pushed inside deeper and deeper until your bodies were as flush together as the position was allowing you to. “Fuck you’re squeezing me so tightly,” Yuta cursed and breathed heavily into your ear. You could only mewl instead of answering properly; you had never felt like this in your entire life. You felt your energy bounce around wildly in your chest, slowly expanding and turning deeper in shade. But before you had any chance to take a closer took, Yuta pulled his hips back and thrust right back into you, pulling loud moans from both of you. “You feel it?” He groaned, slowly picking up his pace, “Feel how your powers grow?”

“I couldn’t care less about any of my powers right now,” you whined, yanking Yuta close by the hair on his nape to crash your lips together to stop yourself from moaning out loudly. “So feisty,” he breathlessly chuckled against your lips, “Hold on tightly.” In a heartbeat he had twirled you around to lay you down into the grass instead. Watching your expression closely, he thrust back inside you, causing you to moan loudly with how deep he was inside you now. The feeling was so overwhelming that you clamped your thighs tightly around his frame and threw your head back with a loud moan. “That’s it, let me hear you,” the warlock moaned, caging you between his arms before he started to move his hips in quick thrusts that made stars spark behind your closed eyelids. You didn’t have any brainpower left to even remotely feel embarrassed by how loud you were being, instead digging your fingers into Yuta’s shoulders to pull him back down into a messy kiss that was more tongue and panting into each other’s mouths than anything else.

“Look at me my little witch,” Yuta panted when his trusts were getting erratic and you felt like the energy inside you was ready to burst and explode in thousand little stars. Just when your emerald eyes met his piercing gaze and you saw how his eyes were filled with so much more than just lust, you couldn’t help yourself anymore and let go of the coil inside your stomach, letting the pleasure overwhelm your body while moaning your master’s name. Seconds after you heard Yuta moan your own name while he pressed inside you for one last time, his back arched and lips parted. Around you, the air was buzzing with energy, almost singing with how potent it was. For a while you just looked at each other, breathing heavily, silly smiles on both of your lips before Yuta leaned down to connect them in a tender kiss.

“You two disgust me,” a familiar voice suddenly broke the delicate silence but this time it wasn’t inside your head. When both Yuta and you looked to the side, you saw a slender man with jet black hair sitting in the grass not far from you, looking back at you with familiar amber eyes. “But I can’t say I hate what you managed to do,” Ten added, looking at his delicate hands. “Go stare at some other people fucking, you creep,” Yuta growled, covering your body with his. “But I finally had something different to see than you sadly beating your meat or trying out questionable spells,” Ten teased, poking out his tongue. “If you don’t leave right now, I will find a way to trap you inside a frog next time.” “I’d love to see you try, honey,” Ten laughed before he actually left to give you some privacy.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled into Yuta’s chest where you had hidden your face that must have the same color as his hair at this point. “Don’t mind him,” Yuta smiled, kissing your forehead, then your nose and both of your cheeks before pecking your lips. “I can’t look Ten in the eyes anymore,” you groaned, making the warlock laugh. “Let’s not talk about him when I’m still inside you,” Yuta whispered, grinding your hips together to prove his point. “Let’s make him wait for a bit longer.”

[domxmarvel]

Hold on (just a little while longer)

Masterlist

Requested by: @witch-connie-au​ 

Pairing:Connor X Gender neutral Reader        

Words:1092  

Request:Hey could you do a connor x reader (detroit become human) something kinda around the song "hold on" by chord overstreet? 

TW:Suicide attempt,mensions of abuse. 

A/N:I’m terrible with song fics,so this is more  inspired by the song.

"So what've we got?" Putting on a pair of gloves,you followed Connor to the crime scene. 

"Victim's name is Naomi Richards,she was found earlier this morning at 10:48."

"Who found the body?" You asked 

"Her friend,she's the one that put in the call"

"Does she have an alibi?"

"We're looking into that as we speak,detective" 

"Cause of death?"

"Multiple stab wounds,with this kitchen knife" Connor explained,holding up a plastic bag with the knife inside.

"We're still waiting for the autopsy report just to be sure and the time of death." Her death seemed to be extremely straightforward,which was a bit scary almost like her murderer had done this before.

"Any signs of a break in?" The front door seemed to still be in one piece,thankfully her friend got the landlord to open it instead of breaking it open.

"No,there is a broken window but the landlord said that it has been broken for a while." 

"We should still have a look at it" 

Everyone was so focused on the body that no one was searching the rest of the apartment. Connor led you to the window,walking closer you noticed some glass shards on the floor. Kneeling down you noticed blood on a couple of them. You quickly turned your head and was only inches away from Connor,you hadn't even heard him move. Stumbling back,you tried to grab onto anything to steady yourself. You ended up grabbing Connor's jacket,making you both fall down. 

"Detective,are you alright?" You nodded,he got up and helped you. You grabbed the piece you were looking at before taking his hand. 

"See if you can get anything out of this" He took the glass.

"Blood,but definitely not from our victim. Nathan Wilson,extensive criminal record, multiple arrests for breaking and entering as well as robbery.”

“Sounds like our guy. Seems like a robbery gone wrong. But we should still follow protocol,interview the neighbours,see if any of them had anything against her. And see what else you can find out about Nathan”

**The next day**

“Good morning detective”

“Good morning Connor”You said sitting down at your desk,where there was a coffee cup already there. “Thanks”Connor smiled at you.

“I got the autopsy report”He reached over,touching your computer.He displayed all the information on your screen. “Our victim died two hours before she was found and the blood we found indicates that Nathan was there about one hours before the time of death. Detective Reed brought him in this morning,but we’ve already scheduled interviews with the neighbors,so we’ll have to talk to him later.”

“Let’s go” You walked into the other side of the integration room,behind the two way mirror. You saw a woman you never thought you’d see again. ‘NO NO NO!! What was she doing here’ You couldn’t stand still,you were ready to just run out. Everything was spinning and getting blurry.

“Y/N”Connor called out making you look up “Are you alright?”

“No,i need to get out of here”Before he could respond you ran out of the station.

***

"You know those things will kill you" Gavin said walking up to you as you lit the cigarette "Isn't that what your boyfriend would say?" You looked up at him "Hey are you okay?"He asked,more concerned than you've ever seen him.

“Ugh i can’t go back in looking like this” You said before stomping out your cigarette.

“Y/N” Connor’s voice made you freeze,Gavin quickly got up and left.”What’s wrong?” You sighed.

“That woman s-she’s m-my mother”

“But you don’t have the same surname? Y/N what happened?”

“It’s a long story and i don’t feel like talking about it. I changed my surname after. I’m sorry but I can't stand to look at her.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. I can take over her interrogation and call you in once it’s over.”

“Thank you. I’ll go over some of the evidence,I’ll let you know if i find anything” You couldn’t focus. The memories of your childhood came rushing back,the pain and the fear you felt all came back. You just wanted to hide and disappear. 

**Connor’s pov**

“Y/N” I called out as I walked in,I called out for Y/N again and still no answer. There was a vague sound that got louder the closer I got to the bathroom. The door was locked “Y/N!!”I yelled out but still no answer,at this point I started to fear the worst. There was water leaking onto the floor,pushing against the door it broke with ease. Y/N was laying on the bathroom floor,kneeling down. I wrapped my arms around Y/N. Checking for a pulse,and found it but it was incredibly weak,thankfully there was no bleeding.

[Calling 911] 

"Y/N,please stay with me" I was holding onto Y/N so tightly that I did even notice my own body shaking or the tears escaping from my eyes.

*** 

"Connor calm down" Hank said,grabbing my arm.

"How am I supposed to calm down Y/N almost died"

"Connor,Y/N will be alright." I sat down beside him,trying to calm down. I knew Y/N was effective by seeing that woman but I just didn't know how much. Suddenly Detective Reed ran in. 

"What happened?"He asked,breathing heavily. Hank answered 

"Y/N will be fine"

"Connor,I looked into that woman Y/N was talking about" He said, handing me a file. "Apparently that woman is Y/N's mother,she abused her children and they were taken away from her. Seeing her again must've triggered something" One of the doctors walked up to us 

"Y/N is going to be completely fine,you can go in but please keep it down."

**Y/N pov**

You woke up to the feeling of something soft on your face,but shut your eyes when the light hit your face. 

"Y/N" Connor whispered. You were almost paralyzed and it was getting harder to breathe,you just couldn't face him so you turned away from him. You could still feel his hand rubbing your back as you started crying. 

"Connor" He responded with a hmm "I'm sorry" 

"Y/N" You turned to face him. He leaned forward,loosely wrapping his arms around you. "Just promise you'll talk to me if you ever feel like that again"

"I will" 

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | coarse language

master list | AO3 link

_____

prev chapter

_____

Kate is on the next commercial flight to Bucharest. She's worried Bucky will move on before she can get to him, but she knows Tony would never approve of the use of one of his jets to chase down an ex-assassin in hiding. The less he knows, the better. Which is why she told him she was escaping to Europe for a long respite after feeling oh so overwhelmed with her work at Stark Industries.

Tony barely bats an eye when she told him. There were some advantages to being Tony Starks' baby sister. The first being he feels guilty about his ineptness at raising her after their parents' death and would literally let her get away with murder. The second is an almost unlimited bank account left to her by her father and supplemented by Tony's previously mentioned guilt.

Kate Stark was her mother’s mid-life crisis. Maria, three decades younger than her husband, had – at forty-two years old – decided she wanted another baby. Tony, who was eighteen at the time, had balked at the idea. But Howard relented and called in the best team of fertility doctors money could buy, and Kate was born.

She doesn't remember her parents, not really. She was only three when they died, and she doesn't remember that event either. Though she was there, in the car, when it crashed on Long Island.

Tony's only ever spoken to her about it once, after she accused him of hating her for surviving when their parents died. Really, he hated that he survived.

When rescue workers arrived at the scene of the wreck, they found her parents dead in the front seat and her tucked safely into her car seat in the back, bundled up against the December cold. She was an orphan, and Tony, at twenty-one, was suddenly responsible for a toddler.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hired a series of nannies to raise her, then sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, all the while playing genius, billionaire playboy.

He wasn’t surprised when it turned out she was just as smart as him or their father. And it surprised him less when she followed in his footsteps and attended MIT. What did surprise him was when she started hacking government databases for fun. She only agreed to work for him at Stark Industries in exchange for him not sticking Rhodey on her after she released documents regarding the US Air Force‘s involvement in some less that savory overseas dealings.

On the plane, she starts an email to Steve telling him where she was headed and what she had found. Then she deletes it and starts over. Then deletes that. She chews her thumbnail and thinks. If she tells Steve where Bucky is, he'll come blazing in, shield at the ready, and Bucky will.... She doesn’t know what Bucky will do, but she has a feeling the encounter would end with a fight and Bucky running. Which will kill Steve. Again. So, she decides she doesn't need to tell Steve – not right away. She'll see if she can figure out what Bucky remembers – if anything – before telling Steve where he is.

_____

A little over forty-eight hours after her software found Bucky, Kate is assembling IKEA furniture in her new studio apartment in Romania. Getting the landlord to lease her the empty flat next to Bucky's was easy enough when Kate offered him double what he was asking in rent. He was discreet enough to not ask any questions. Most of the people in the building were hiding from something so a young American woman who paid cash upfront wasn't the most unusual thing he'd dealt with.

She makes her bed, unpacks her suitcase, and re-reads the Winter Soldier file. That night she dreams of her parents and the wreck that killed them. In the dream there's always a man outside of the car, but she can never see his face. Her father begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help."

She wakes up sweating, a scream caught in her throat.

_____

The apartment next to his is no longer empty. Bucky can hear music and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. If he focuses his hearing, he can hear a heartbeat other than his own, but he's working to turn off the super soldier reflexes, so he tries to ignore it. He's enjoyed the silence that the empty apartment afforded him, and he hopes the new tenant isn’t as nosy as his neighbor in Kiev who had asked so many questions. He hadn't stayed long after that meeting.

Around two in the morning, he wakes to the sound of a strangled cry from his new neighbor. Bucky sits up straight, suddenly on alert. He listens closely, focusing for the sounds of a struggle, but he only hears the unfamiliar heartbeat. His neighbor was having a nightmare, he imagines. He had plenty of those himself.

Sometimes he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his only intent to kill. Other nightmares took him back to the HYDRA base and their machine that scrambled his thoughts over and over again. And others found him falling from a train, the blonde man from the Triskelion reaching out toward him. He always wakes up just before he hits the icy river he knows awaits him.

Bucky knows now that the blonde man is Steve Rogers. Without HYDRA's influence, he's started to remember more: flashes of Steve and a group called the Howling Commandos during the war, but also flashes of Steve before the war, smaller, shorter. And flashes of a family – his family – a father, a mother, a sister. Rebecca. The name comes to him one afternoon while he's browsing the used bookstore near his flat.

He's started eating plums and jogging to improve his memory. He isn't sure if it's helping, but the memories are becoming longer and more frequent. He sees himself with Steve at Coney Island, riding the Cyclone until Steve lost his lunch and Bucky laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he sees himself flirting with an auburn-haired combat nurse in Italy, following her back to her tent and undressing her slowly.

He wakes the next morning feeling restless. He had slept in fits and starts, listening for any more disturbances from next door. None came.

He dresses and goes for a run, and when he returns, he catches his first glimpse of his new neighbor. She's coming out of her apartment, her face turned downward toward her phone. When he reaches the top of the stairs, she lifts her head and smiles. Bucky is struck by how pretty she is, a thought he hasn't let himself have since leaving HYDRA. He turns away quickly and slams the door to his own apartment. He doesn't need pink lips and dark curls reminding him of what he can never have again. He's too broken for her, or anyone else for that matter.

_____

Bucky has seen his new neighbor more times in five days than he's seen anyone else in the building over the past two months. They always seem to be coming or going at the same time.

The first time he actually speaks to her, she's dropping groceries up the stairs from a rip in her canvas bag.

"Fuck," she mutters as an apple rolls beneath the railing and falls to the landing below.

Bucky has a brief vision of her uttering that same word while his head is buried between her legs, but he shakes if off quickly.

"Let me," he says in English, scooping up some rogue potatoes and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks," she says before unlocking her door and holding it open for him.

Her apartment is the same layout as his – one room, with a tiny bathroom at the front and a small kitchen along the back wall. He sets the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and steps back.

"I should—"

"Thank you—"

They both speak at the same time. Bucky bows his head and motions for her to continue.

"Thank you for your help." She pauses. "And it's nice to speak English for a change. My Romanian is atrocious," she laughs. "How’d you guess?"

"All the music you listen to is in English," he replies brusquely.

She cringes. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

"No," he says, "It's fine. Really."

There's an awkward pause as they both stare at each other.

Bucky breaks the silence first. "I should go."

"Right." She leads him to the door. "Thanks."

Bucky nods.

When his own apartment door closes behind him, he sighs and scrubs his right hand over his face. He needs to avoid her. He doesn't need anything to distract him from regaining his memories, and he certainly doesn't need to get close to someone he'll inevitably hurt. He doesn’t even begin let himself entertain the thought that she could be a HYDRA agent waiting to turn him in.

_____

Later that evening, he's startled by a knock at his door. When he peers into the hallway, there's a plate of food on the floor, covered with a cloth and a note. He picks it up.

Thanks for saving my groceries.

- Kate

Bucky considers the possibilities that she is a HYDRA agent and the food is poisoned, but he decides it's unlikely HYDRA would take that approach. If anything, they would want their soldier back, and if they didn't, they wouldn't kill him quickly. Also, he can't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal – definitely before the war – and he’s starving. Protein bars aren’t really cutting it anymore.

He studies the note as he eats. He runs his fingers over the name written in curling handwriting: Kate, and debates what his next move should be. He needs to ignore her – for her own safety – but his mother raised a gentleman so he should at least thank her for dinner, right?

_____

Kate nearly steps on the plate when she leaves her flat the next morning for a run. It’s sitting right at her doorway, clean, the dish towel she had with it folded with a note peeking out.

Kate,

You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner.

- Bucky

If she knew how long Bucky had agonized over whether to write back, she probably would have cried. Kate definitely would have cried if she knew he had debated whether or not to sign the note “Bucky” or “James.” He’s been using James at any off-the-books odd jobs he can get, but with his memories returning, he’s been feeling more like the Bucky Steve referred to in DC.

_____

Kate makes a potato soup that night and leaves it outside his door sans note. She brings him dinner for a week straight before she asks him to dine with her.

"Come over,” she says the next time they pass in the hall.

"What?" Bucky freezes.

"Come over tonight,” Kate repeats, “for dinner.”

"Why?" He sounds rude. He should really work on that, but she’s caught him in one of his broodier moods after another sleepless night.

"Why not?” she shrugs. “I have wine."

He’s staring at her. He realizes he needs to stop staring at her and answer.

“Okay.”

“Seven thirty?” she suggests.

"Okay," he replies.

"Okay," she laughs.

For a second, Bucky wonders if she's laughing at him, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think not. Talking to women used to be easy, he thinks. It took him hours to come up with the simplest response to her note the other night, and now he can't even form a sentence in front of her. He spends the rest of the day worrying he's made a huge mistake in accepting her invitation.

He's not the only one. Kate has half a mind to call it all off, phone Steve, and get on the next plane back to New York. What if he doesn't remember anything? What if he's still the Winter Soldier? She has a brief vision of Bucky snapping and wrapping that metal hand he's been hiding around her throat – and not in a fun way. But when he knocks on her door at seven thirty, she thinks she might actually die from how sweet he looks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, running his tongue over his lips nervously.

They're caught in another awkward moment of just staring at each other when she finally invites him.

The old Bucky would have bought flowers and then made some quip about how the flowers aren't nearly as beautiful as she is, but this Bucky – post-HYDRA Bucky – feels like he's forgotten how to interact with women at all and his tongue has suddenly turned to lead.

Kate's debated how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she decides she'll tell him everything. Well, mostly everything. He doesn't need to know that she's a Stark or friends with Steve Rogers or here on some crazy rescue mission to save the Winter Soldier because maybe, just maybe, she read his file one too many times and got caught up in the look in Steve's eyes when he talked about Bucky. No, he doesn't need to know that.

Kate's also considered how much to ask him about himself. She wants to know what – if anything – he remembers, but she also doesn't want to give herself away by revealing she knows who he really is. And she doubts he’ll tell her outright. The fact that he signed the note Bucky seems like a good indication that his memories are returning, though.

"How long have you been in Bucharest, Bucky?" she asks, plating their dinner.

"Almost two months," he says.

"Here for work?" she asks casually.

"Uh...it's complicated," he says, scratching at the back of his neck. "You?"

She looks up at him. "It's complicated."

They're staring at each other again, and Bucky has to force himself to look away.

"Family?" she asks.

"Also complicated," he says. God, he thinks, he sounds like a jackass. But it's not like he can tell her he's a ninety-eight-year-old ex-assassin in hiding so his family is probably long dead.

She motions for him to sit at her small kitchen table and sets a plate in front of him.

"You're not hiding a wedding ring under those gloves, are you?" she asks, a smirk on her lips. She knows about his arm; she just wants to see what he’ll give away.

He blushes and looks at his hands. Then he realizes he's taking too long to answer, and she probably thinks he's an idiot. "No... uh...no. No," he finally says without elaborating.

Kate can sense he's nervous so she does what Tony would do in a situation like this and just keeps talking. She tells him about Tony – minus the Stark detail. She talks about MIT and New York and the last book she read. He listens closely, laughing softly when she makes jokes and asking questions where appropriate. He likes the way her lips look when they form his name and the way her eyes light up at her own humor.

When they finish eating, Bucky helps her wash dishes. She considers asking him to stay, watch a movie or something, but then she thinks maybe she should take this slowly, not overwhelm him, so she bids him goodnight and closes the door behind him.

Bucky thinks Kate might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Then he thinks that might be because she’s the first woman he’s interacted with in so long. Either way, he tries not to think of her that night when his body remembers what it's like to be a man.

He decides that staying away from her would be too hard.

On the other side of the wall, she’s thinking of him, too. She hadn't expected his eyes to be so impossibly blue. She had stared at the black and white military photo for hours, but seeing him in person, she was caught in the Arctic waters that made up his eyes.

_____

next chapter

[fictionturnedherbrain]

Episode 1: My Late Lamented Friend and Partner

Marty is always at least five minutes early for his appointments

Other businesses in the same building as Jeff and Marty’s private inquiry agency include Clive Murray, Theatrical Agency, and Les Fields Recording Co.

Randall’s telephone number is 3864, and he has apartment number 14 (or 41)

Marty is murdered on Wednesday evening at 8.30pm, outside his own house

Marty and Jean Hopkirk live at apartment number 8

Marty is also a worrier, ‘always worrying about something’ – mainly Jean, as she reminds Jeff

Jeff : You mean you’re a ghost?

Marty : I suppose I am, really

Jeff : Why can’t you stay dead like everyone else?

Marty : Only you can see me, Jeff; I chose you

Jeff : Thanks

Jeff – What’s wrong with lilies?

Marty – They’re morbid!

Hotel landlord (after Jeff enters with Marty) – You’ve brought the cold in with you

Jeff’s advice to novice ghost Marty : I should imagine you have to believe you can really do it

A fair pilot episode, with a neat storyline – Marty’s sense of order and justice gets him killed – and minimal exposition (mostly crammed into the reunion scene at the cemetery). The dialogue is swift and straightforward, if delivered awkwardly at times by the cast in their new roles, and the premise of the series is established with Marty’s death and subsequent haunting of Jeff. I would like to have seen more of Marty pre-dispatch, but my favourite element of the show is satisfactorily evident without it: Jeff and Marty’s unlikely yet close friendship. As with most male partnerships on screen, the two are fundamentally at odds and yet they work as two halves of a whole – Marty is the brains of the outfit, an idealist living a neat and conventional life with his treasured wife Jean, whilst Jeff is the brawn, a free spirit enjoying chance encounters in his bachelor pad, relying on Marty to worry enough for the both of them.

After the death of his ‘friend and partner’, Jeff is left grief-stricken and lost; he sees Jean through the funeral, keeping his promise to Marty that he would look after her, and then returns to his flat, shattered and alone. When the telephone rings and it’s Marty, Jeff is instantly elated to hear his best friend’s voice – until his whisky-hazed fatigue clears enough for him to realise the impossibility of such a call, and he is cut by the cruelty of such a hoax.

Jeff’s grief is a short experience, with Marty soon returning as a ‘sleeping’ partner, but his numb sadness is a fitting and rather sweet interlude in their friendship. ‘Marty Hopkirk was ... my friend’, he stammers down the phone; and Sid, the concerned switchboard operator in Jeff’s block, reveals that the two friends were ‘very close’. There is instantly enough of a rapport between the two actors to show a natural and long-standing bond between Jeff and Marty, both before and after Hopkirk ceases to be, and the dialogue plays on a fraternal familiarity that bounces back and forth from playful exasperation (‘Why can’t you stay dead?’) to firm trust and mutual dependence (‘With you, I’ve got a chance’). Jeff instantly adjusts to his partner’s ghostly presence, chatting and plotting with Marty as if nothing has changed (bar a few new tricks that could prove useful to their trade), but the prospect of being haunted by a nervous and demanding spirit for the rest of his life soon sobers his delight.

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Responses from the Opera Screencaps Captioning Quiz

Hello, everyone, and thank you for taking my quiz! I had SO MUCH fun reading your captions-- there were several times I literally started crying from laughing so hard at the amazingness of your work! With that in mind, the captions (which I will continue to add onto as more people take it):

(also, thank you to @dichterfuerstin​ for translating the German captions I got)

originally taken from: the Wiener Staatsoper’s 2020 production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, featuring Regula Mühlemann (center) as Blonde, Michael Laurenz (right) as Pedrillo, and an unnamed extra (left) as the Grim Reaper

Responses:

(Backstage warm-up) “ok so someone dropped the pulse”

me and my friends watching the fire burn after doing arson

Introducing the polycule to the parents

*boom* ... did...you guys hear that too?

Ma Signor !

Knight in whinging armour gone wrong, look at how he holds the egg. Polyamory with weird knight and death.

the father, son and the holy ghost are very gay

the gays meeting for brunch, 2021, colorized

chicken lady forces death and a very flamboyantly homosexual anthropomorphized pink bird to be parents of her egg (they dont want to be)

That’s just me and my friends on our night out (before covid rip)-- closest

A Good Friday night

good omens (2019)

["the pocket guide to boy/girl/mischief" meme] who's the boy and who's the mischief though????

Papageno and Papagena take their first-born egg trick-or-treating

Angry Birds - The Musical. A pig stole an egg and the bird unites with death to take revenge.

I love my bird wife

Someone got murdered during the funky chicken dance

throuple murders child and steals sibling of said child

When you and your friends have widely different tastes in literature

angel leading twink to his rightful place (hell)

draco malfoy from a very potter musical and a death eater are very much in the wrong show

What have I gotten myself into

Mlm/wlw solidarity but I’m not telling who is who

A woman stands with a pink dipshit with an egg and a reaper.

A bird-couple makes a pact with Death, sacrificing their first-born bird-child in order to bring good luck upon their unborn bird-baby

There are three types of people on Halloween:

Uh oh, I don’t think the mother hen is very happy about this...

oh god, they’ve invented seussical. It’s too early!

gay brunch

Three little maids from school are we

guys maybe if we dress gay enough we can distract everyone from the dead flapper bee in the back

those three killed a duck for her egg and are facing the conswquences.

Duck has egg with human, shocked and upset due to biological impossibility

When you bout to make a banging omelet so you invite your fellow queers

"No mortal man could pass that egg, but heaven shall repair your rectum."

originally taken from: the Salzburg Festival’s 2007 production of Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, featuring Maija Kovalevska (left) as Teresa Balducci, Laurent Naouri (center, in chimney) as Fieramosca, and Burkhard Fritz (right) as Benvenuto Cellini

Responses:

“In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” - a midsummer night’s dream, act v scene 1

"ah yes a prime specimen. see here, right in this box is our one of a kind hob goblin that can be all yours for the low low price of your soul"

what, YOU don't have a special eavesdropping chimney window?

Hänsel und Gretel plotting against the witch

man takes a wrong turn and ends up in a chimney, catches his girlfriend cheating-- closest

when you end up third wheeling the straight couple

lady cheats on her leather jacket wearing scummy boyfriend and when he unexpectedly comes home she hides the lover in the chimney

A straight girl and her gay best friend gossip about stuff idk

Idk Shakespeare?

experimental couples therapy feat. the chimney mf from mary poppins

Area Couple Inadvertently Traps Santa-in-Training in Chimney as they Attempt Rooftop Flirting

Landlords laugh over student renter's misfortune

I never asked for this

Ay yo lil mama lemme whisper in your ear

voyeurist listens to sandy and Danny from grease

Psssst! Did you hear about Susan? You won’t believe it!

lady and the tramp meets beauty and the beast?

human trafficking

And for just $30 you too could have your own tiny brick cage!

Psst I’m wearing assless chaps under this dress

A couple tortures a man in a box.

It's all fun and games being stuck in a chimney until your greasy uncle steals your crush from right above you-- okay ngl this could actually be a great Don Pasquale concept

Taking eavesdropping to the next level

Will you two stop being lovey dovey and let me out? SUMMER LOVIN, HAPPENED SO FAST— 

overhearing how people talk about you when they think they're alone puts you in the shithouse 

Does he know we can see him?

dear god, i am so fucking hungry, yall please just do whatever heterosexuals do so i can go eat a popsicle 

the human version of the trash man from sesame street is realizing that those two are going to fuck on his trash can 

Tmw you capture an angry short dude and start trashtalking him where he can hear 

Omg what if we kissed but we actually kissed the lil goblin man under us

"Remember, don't feed him after midnight"

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Leonardo Estevez (right, on fake horse) as Le Comte d’Oberthal

Responses:

“When I said we needed to drain the swamp I didn’t think there were people actually living there”

horse? what horse? no sir i dont know what horse youre referring to.

definitely don't have a napoleon complex going on

King stole La Scala‘s Lohengrin set

king breaks all his horses, has to use statue dragged by servants as transportation because he’s too kingly too walk

Emperor Söder and his subjects on a carnival procession

man on horse makes a big deal out of being on a horse

That’s not Zeffirelli because the horse is not alive

Who the fuck put a horse on the stage

isn't this that picture of napoleon on the horse

Area Count Thinks Citizens will be Intimidated by his Extremely Fake-looking Horse Statue-- closest

Everyone wants their turn on the giant plaster horse. Police are there to make sure everyone waits their turn.

Night out with the lads

Local royalty horrified at the state of his own damn kingdom

gay army fights different gay aesthetics-- hi author how does it feel to be the funniest fucking person on this quiz

Well at least I LOOK badass

ceasar if he hadn't gotten stabbed (colourised)

some soldiers jumped out of my kindergarten fairytale collection book to burn the don carlos flemish deputies at the stake

It’s just a model

Is that how you feel pulling up in your Honda Civic, Madge?

Someone rides a horse statue in public.

Just a normal party with the bros.

what is this, some kind of crossover episode? 

Terribly sorry for all the fuss, it’s just, that is, my horse is afraid of neck ruffles. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s—whoaaa there—he said he was a french courtier in a past life and he’s allergic to English fashion 

Horse seller, listen to me! I am riding into battle. I need your strongest horse. - We have horses at home. - The horses at home: 

All hail Incitatus the king 

we are not ripping off shakespeare’s henry viii. what the fuck. this is about lenny xi you uncultured swine, go drown in a pit of your own farts 

oh god is that hamilton 

Guy Removed From Art Museum For Sitting On Statue, more at eleven 

Gay <3

Officer: This horse... is a virgin! Crowd: *cheers*

originally taken from: the Parma Verdi Festival’s 2017 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Stiffelio, featuring Maria Katzarava (left) as Lina and Luciano Ganci (right) as Stiffelio

Responses:

That One kid in class

its a mEntAL BreAkDowN *final countdown but kazoo*

*record scratch* yeah, that's me. you're probably wondering how I got here-- closest

Dad keeps monologuing, teenager is done

left: all of my concerned friends, right: my emo ass having a very public mental breakdown

the demons in the corner of my room when im just trying to sleep

lady gets mansplained to (do i need to say more, we've all been there)

It’s probably an area baritone telling off an area soprano-- sorry; it’s a tenor. soprano is right though.

That was a fake horse in the last photo right?

child comes out as gay to father at a particularly bad time

dissociation solves everything

I can't believe it's not butter

Honey we talked about this

My sleep paralysis demon is Crowley from supernatural

child has nightmare of boring job

When you start dating a singer but he won’t stop practicing at night

just an average day in a hetero marriage

what do i do my wife's having period cramps again

Stop having an existential crisis. It’s time to sing!

“No son of mine will kin Gomez Addams under MY roof”

Crowley stares into space while a teen has post nut clarity.

When he wont stop reciting jordan peterson monologues!!

Do you realize how effed you are?

Ugh, not this lecture again! Dad’s Practicing For His Experimental Indie Band Again 

asking your parents for help with your own personal situation and them just ranting off about what they went through instead of helping in any way 

Will he shut up already!

no one tell him he’s yelling in the wrong direction, no one tell him plnsbdjddhdj 

this kid is tired of his dad listening to rush limbaugh (a man who claimed to be pro life but died anyway) 

Me internally vs externally 

Daddy issues

originally taken from: the Grand Théâtre de Genève’s 2020 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots, featuring several chorus members

Responses:

It’s the deadly eye Of Poogley-pie. Look away, look away, As you walk by, ‘Cause whoever looks right at it Surely will die. It’s a good thing you didn’t … You did? … Good-bye. - shel Silverstein

why the fuckith? my good sir, i beg of you to put your pants back on

I hate this itchy hat

Titanic Extras hear that they have to do extra hours

people waiting to board the titanic watch someone fall off the plank

pov: you’re a time traveler

guy in the flatcap is embarrassed by patriotism and pathos

No idea. For some reason Le Marseillaise comes to mind

Is this from Harry Potter?

disneyland main street usa workers on strike

local tries to hide behind Newsies cap to avoid unpleasant but inevitable conversations. meanwhile, some very fashionable ladies look on.

"Thank fuck, 2020 was just a dream after all"

“We gather here today because this bitch got exactly what she deserved” “heaven!” “Stfu Stephanie she’s going to hell and we all know it”-- not quite but this basically happens later on in the opera (and act) so yeah (except the person in question very much Did Not Deserve It)

dc movie filter on bridgerton

america?

looks like my history teacher paused the prohibition documentary again

Who still wears page boy hats bro?

Coming out to a room of people who Already Knew That

Bitches are relieved at some party.

Several drunk people exiting getting off the subway attempting to seem sober and rational but realizing they have somehow lost all of their possessions

How tf do I act natural in this situation-- closest

“do you think any of them noticed that I don’t know the pledge of allegiance” 

It's too fucking hot outside for this outfit 

?

when hyyh yoonkook ending just hits different 

pedestrians watch in horror as the triangle shirtwaist factory burns and the workers throw themselves out of the windows from a dozen stories up 

Starting the pledge of allegiance be like 

He's having a heart attack oh no oh god oh fuck

originally taken from: if I remember correctly, the Semperoper Dresden’s 2018 semi-staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus, with Jonas Kaufmann as Gabriel von Eisenstein

Responses:

“William Shakespeare wrote: "To thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man" I believe this wise statement best applies to a woman A blonde woman Over the past three years she taught me And showed us all That being true to yourself never goes out of style Ladies and gentlemen Our valedictorian: Elle Woods!” - legally blonde the musical

eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs

woooooorrrrd

Finally Jonas has graduated! It’s about time, considering he’s an international star.

what my professors think they look like

Prof. Dr. Dr. When someone tells him there are more than two genders

'and since you've now graduated high school, you'll be entering college etc. blablabla' .........meanwhile, there's a whole row of graduates daring each other to chug the cheap vodka one of them has brought in gallons (yes that happened at my graduation, lol)

Jonas darling baby <3-- can’t argue with that

I just realized I have no idea what the actual fuck happens in an opera

ok this one is just what jonas kaufmann always wears you can't fool me.

"as valedictorian i will share with you the importance of loving the floor"

"Yes, mother, my art degree will make me money!"

Graduation speakers are out, singers are in

Senior year takes a new meaninbg

mansplainer professor explains the concept of feminism to women

Your Prof when you finally turn in that missing assignment be like

younger boris johnson (derogatory)

jonas kaufmann retires from opera and takes up motivational speaking

What a fine graduation evening we’re having today

-70 points for slytherin you all have no swag

A man with a college hat sings.

An obviously greying actor trying to play a university student in a low-budget porn parody

How it feels to graduate high school after being held back for years

East High is a place where teachers encouraged us to break the status quo and define ourselves as we choose. Where a jock can cook up a mean crème brûlée, and a brainiac can break it down on the dance floor-

I may not have been "cool" in high school, but in ten years you will all be working for me!

I finally got my GED!

that one guy in ur intro to cultural anthropology class who mansplains to the professor somehow fucking graduated

he;s just graduating and taking his speech too serously idk

Graduation speeches with that one dude who got held back 3 times

Smrt

originally taken from: the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 staging of Gioachino Rossini’s Le Comte Ory with Joyce DiDonato (left) as Isolier, Diana Damrau (center) as Countess Adèle, and Juan Diego Florez (right) as Le Comte Ory (disguised as a hermit)

Responses:

There is something very [disturbing grunts] About polyamorous couples - polyamorous, Chris Fleming

jinkies

femme fatale (including to herself)

I’ll have a threesome soon !

Hot guy walks by, everyone swoons.

thirdwheeling friend does not realize the other two are having sex

When your girlfriend had „just two beers“ again

jesus is exasperated about having to drag the two ladies towards doing what he needs them to do instead of purple dramatically declaring suicidal intent over the smallest trivial matters and red being equally dramatic about declaring that it's not the way! stay alive! i love you!!

The throuple is thriving

Get off the milf

orgy

my last three braincells because im a horny slut

countess receives too much love and is confused on how to react

Rasputin's lesser known romp with a much older czarina of russia

Woman's soul leaves body

Jesus and co. are worried after another woman gets pregnant without having sex

bisexual looks at photos of celebrity couples

When you go to the party to socialize with new people but your weirdo friend group starts getting clingy

Jesus cumming

one of those weird church christmas pageants but everybody's drunk

What have I done

Hozier??????????

Jesus assfucks some purple lady being hugged.

This time, the chick IS the magnet

An affair/threesome gone awry (2019 colorized)

What do you mean they canceled GLOW?

“I TOLD you it was cashmere!”

Are you wearing the - - The Gucci dress? Yes I am.

It's not what it looks like!

jesus is fucking that one cheerleader who grew up to be a suburban mom with one (1) super cool dress she stole from her kid who is desperately hugging her middle begging for it back because the spring fling is coming up and jason might actually make eye contact with her for more than three seconds.

jesus and mary magdaline and some other bitch

I’m at a bar and these drunk girls are flirting with me, do I lOOK GAY?!

Shrek 5, jesus's return

c. 2025 First attempt of an Officer and his Wife with a Handmaiden (colourized)

just about all of these are close lol

originally taken from: the Bolshoi Theater’s 1993 staging of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Maid of Orléans, featuring Nina Rautio (left) as Joan of Arc and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (right) as Thibaut d’Arc

Responses:

Don’t look, I’m still pooping

yall, the audacity of this man. he fuckin talked to me

*i can't even tell you how wrong you are* *it would be insulting to ME*-- closest

Cospeto!

„No I’m not talking to you, you keep cracking bad jokes!“ - „But I got another!“

when you’re mad at him but he says he’ll buy you food if you cheer up

When I’m wallowing in self-pity but my friends won’t comfort me

right: wanna fuck ;) left: yeah, fuck OFF lmao

Her face is screaming “don’t tell me what to do”

Yeah I got nothing

gay man tries to hit on a lesbian bc he thinks she's a twink. she's not amused but she's watching this happen anyway

me tired of MET's bullshit and them organising a Netrebko, known blackface apologist, a recital during Black History Month. (sorry im still fucking salty lol)

"stop smiling at me like that I'm trying to pout over here"

"I got fleas, you got fleas... wanna fuck?"

I have the best idea!

Haha nooooo don’t hit me with that bat you’re so sexxyy

lesbian is bothered by dilf

Me trying to flirt

if call me by your name was hetero and set in america

how many more dad jokes can i take before i explode

So. You’ve gotten yourself in a little pickle again.

What if we fought in the Russian revolution together ✨???????... unless??

Two people flirt in a poor place of town/

"If you ask me what I've got under this dirty, shapeless tunic one more time I swear to god I will kick your rotting teeth in"

You look like ur gonna kill me but ok

Really? You again?

Okay, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, do you think it’s safe to—oh god, he’s still there.

Have you seen Godot?

she is tired of everyone’s shit. she has done so many derivatives it physically pains her to see a variable. dont test her. ur icarus rn.

idk pick better pictures-- I HAVE DIED THE SHEER AUDACITY AND HUBRIS I LOVE THIS

200% done with your crap 

Homeless man has fucking legs of steel n is gonna show off his Russian dance moves

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2019 staging of Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-bleue, featuring Sophie Koch (right) as Ariane and I don’t remember who the person on the left is rip me

Responses:

The knight who wore this into battle sure was swaggy

dear god its hiddeous

Capitalism

Knight in shining armour gone even more wrong.

ghost contemplates the safety of spiky motorcycle helmet

„Stop! He feels bullied!“

'this is my newest take for jesus's crucifixion crown ...... what do you mean they already put him up'

That’s probably a really expensive magic helmet idk. IDK-- closest

Omg I love the adventure zone!

minesweeper (windows xp)

"Okay whatever you do don't touch the shiny spiky ball" "It's so shiny I wanna touch it"

Taking down the trash way too late

IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM

Darth Vader got stuck in the freezer.... again. Leia isn’t happy

Star Wars 2030

“And here is the very latest in motorcycle helmet trends” “Look, I only came to the mall for a pair of socks “

futuristic kkk

long-suffering jewelry store attendant really wants to retire

Put it down put it down put it down

“Hmm no you should see a doctor about that”

A weird ass crown is presented

The creation of sars-cov-2: an experimental Eurotrance nightclub art piece gone horribly wrong

How it feels to want something that u cant have

AND WE WILL CALL IT—SPIKE MAN actually do you think that’s too obvious?? Because of the—yeah, because of the spikes?? See, that’s what I’m worried about. I want it to be SCARY

I know it's risky but... lube me up

?

use the force luke.

that is a weird fleshlight

When you get an ugly gift and need to find a way to get rid of it, so your family member/friend offers to smash it

Touch the orb

originally taken from: the Opera Vlaanderen’s 2019 staging of Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, with Nicole Chevalier (left, with bottle) as Princess Eudoxie, Enea Scala (center, under table) as Prince Léopold, and Roy Cornelius Smith (right) as Éléazar

Responses:

When no one comes to your birthday party :(

fantastic, day 487 of mischief and they have yet to find my masterful hiding spot

i really wonder who he thinks he's playing footsie with

Marriage crisis. Reason sits under the table-- closest but not in the way you think (after all, the man under the table IS a tenor).

the last supper afterparty after jesus left

When you order the last supper on wish

espionage at the Politischer Rosenmontag

Probably the wrong opera but is that Leporello under the table

Now THIS is a Good Friday night

this was every birthday party i went to between the ages of 5 and 11

that awkward moment when you drop your fork under the table but when you re-emerge everyone else has left except one drunk lady and the guy trying to deal with her

After the last supper

Tfw you arrive to the dinner party too early and have to hide until a more fashionable hour

When the cishets aren’t home

waiter hides from customers

Nobody: My dog every time I’m eating:

what's left of the homies Jesus had dinner with

university chem lab experiment gone terribly wrong

I’ve been under the table FOR 30 MINUTES

Set your friends up by tossing them off under the table, they’ll think it’s each other n fall in luv

Someone hids under a table

"You're about to see an surreptitious-under-the-table-dick-sucking master at work"

5 yr old me trying to eat the desert under the table without my parents finding out be like:

They never invite me to their parties!

Just another girl’s night in

Oops! Didn’t notice you the table.

dionysus - bts (2019, colorized)

just a normal episode of eric andre (eric is the one under the table)

Just a normal day with the boys

Thievery

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Kate Aldrich (left, surrounded by women in white) as Fidès and John Osborn (center, looking like a Jesus doppelganger) as Jean de Leyde

Responses:

Hold up, is that Eggman above Jesus?

holy disco

Looks like Tannhäuser. Our lord and saviour Richard Wagner. Now I need to be saved from that.

catholicism

me defending pineapple on pizza (THANK YOU)

jesus but hes about to be abducted by the alien ufo above him

Emmmmmmm Heaven? Idk

Lord of the rings?

ewww christianity gross

"behold, I am Important"

"Seriously?? It's not ACTUALLY pyjama day? Fuck you guys!"

Jesus at the Disco

Jesus Finds The Molerat People Who Live Under Bethlehem

disco is heaven

Want to join my new religion?

the kkk

church christmas pageant where everyone's sober but it's based on the director's fever dream

Am I the only one who sees the giant demon? Just me? Okay...

“Oh god I think I’m starting my period”

A party is held with a priest in the middle

"Let's get this secret Vatican sex party rolling!"

The new avengers endgame set is looking great!!

You know, guys, I try not to be a bother but...I can’t help but feel like I missed a dress code memo for this wedding??? It’s cocktail, right??”

Jesus visits Hogwarts

I must really stink if no one will even come close to me

the extra ass funeral i DESERVE

star wars life day

A cult at it’s best-- closest

Shrek 5, Jesus is still there I guess

originally taken from: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden’s 2013 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Les vêpres siciliennes, featuring Bryan Hymel (left, standing) as Henri, Lianna Haroutounian (center, kneeling in the black gown) as Duchess Hélène, and Erwin Schrott (kneeling to her right) as Jean Procida

Responses:

When the director’s like “great rehearsal guys, just a few notes before I let you go” but it’s already 9:13 and your mom’s waiting in the parking lot

loyalist of subjects

bow before your queen

They forgot to take down the stage boxes after the Vienna opera ball but the show must go on.

somebody forgot to book chairs for this funeral

Me sharing God’s (Hayley koyoko) word on the discord server

mass execution bc the oboe solo sucked ass-- closest

That’s too many black suits I can’t see shit

I can’t even tell what’s going on here

8th grade school assembly about how it's uncool to shit on the walls at school

let's all get fancy so we can go to the opera and sit on the stage (idk this one's hard lol)

"Yes i am a time traveller, now don't freak out"

Tfw you forget to pay your lighting bills

White guys make decisions that will benefit them and screw someone that’s not a white guy over-- OUCH but that is too real (although not really in context here)

dead man gives speech at his own funeral

brotus and the boys ??? last meeting before the stabbing

high society social function ends in mass murder-- right opera, wrong scene

Someone walks into the talent show stage with a dog

Black-dressed bitches worship a man.

Worst school assembly of all time

POV:You're the window in the classroom and someone said "its snowing"

When the conductor shows up fashionably late to the orchestra concert

That's what you get for choosing the cheapest ticket option, get back in the mud where you belong

?

theyre just trying to jump into a grave at a funeral leabe them alone this is normal

oh my god he really whipped his dick out in front of everyone, this is just like in 1776 guys, except some women are actually in the room this time,

A funeral, stop wearing so much black

I want to slap their bald heads like rice

originally taken from: the Teatro Real Madrid’s 2018 staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, featuring Roberto Tagliavini (right) as Raimondo

Responses:

Crowd “haha!! Looks like someone missed the all-black memo!! Now it’s laugh-in-your-face time! / Guy on the floor (whispering to guy against wall): go, save yourself! I’ll hold them off...”

if i leave now i wont be a witness and can tell the police i had no idea

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Guy in the back pretends to help but is to far away to even know what’s going on.

priest walks in on beginning of an orgy, contemplated joining but is too scared-

when someone brings up capitalism but you’re just trying to play minecraft

lol lets trample this guy while the judge isnt looking

Again. Too many black costumes

Loved this Dostoevsky novel

i would know if opera directors were more creative with clothing choices ngl

me on parties lol

"imma just sneak out of here while everyone else is distracted"

"Where did he get this flooring!? Amazing!"

Everyone act normal!

The tell tale heart but they got REALLY drunk

man tposes to ward off vampires after being caught undercover

boys ???? night

the priest really shouldn't have visited the insane asylum-- closest

He’s FINE everyone’s been hit by a car before

Something happens in a room.

Perks of being a wallflower

There's always that one person in the fight whos trying not to get involved when they really wanna

Oh good, they’re all posing for a Rembrandt painting, I can just sneeeeaaak out the back here...

The gamer livestreaming Resident Evil + everyone watching the stream ? waiting for him to open the door just knowing it will trigger a chase scene

Quick!

the guy t posing in the back is regretting his every decision.-- also accurate

the us senate jumps ted cruz, some other wack ass gop senator is trying to sneak away

...I spoke too soon, however this is a James Bond mission

Queers help fellow queer do math but it's a struggle

[morceid]

Beating the Dead Swan

Chapter 2: lonely angels wrapped in silk

read on ao3

<- chapter one

Summary: Penelope gives the profiles of Camille and other victims like her to the team.

Word Count: 1928

Category: angst

Content Warnings: general criminal minds murder stuff

A/N: noting here that this fic takes place in 2005 when criminal minds starts and spencer is 24

It started out a simple equivocal death investigation. Seven women had been found in their apartments, dead with their wrists slashed. Unfortunately not an unusual occurrence, Detective Conner thought nothing of it. Upon trying to contact the employers of each victim, Conner found they all worked for the same people, and decided to mark them down for further investigation just in case. When the fourth victim was found in her father’s beach house just outside of Virginia, the case became federal and handed to the FBI.

The case, being low priority, was given to Derek Morgan to monitor the progress of. 

“You’re completely sure there’s nothing about the bodies that connect these victims?”

“Agent Morgan, if there was anything I would tell you. I think it’s time you tell Detective Conner to rule these deaths a suicide.”

“Alright, will do.” Derek hung up with the coroner. Just then his mobile phone rang with the number of the detective displayed on the top of the screen. Derek sighed.

“Agent Morgan.” He answered.

“Agent, there’s another victim-”

“Conner, listen, they aren’t connected, there is no signature unless you can consider the suicide, I think you oughtta-”

“She was called in by a friend. Not a family member, not an apartment manager, not a coworker, a real friend. Derek, he’s devolving.”

Derek sighed, “Detective, I’ll let you send her body over to the coroner but I doubt there will be anything remarkable.”

There was some mumbling on the other end of the line before Detective Conner gave a response.

“That’s the thing, Agent Morgan, this victim is remarkable. She had piercing holes in her ears just like the others.”

“And how is that remarkable?”

“Her ears weren’t pierced.”

“And you’re sure about that, Detective?”

“Her best friend swears it. Do you think they could be puncture marks?”

“I’m not sure, let me tell Doctor Phyllis.”

Derek set down his mobile phone and dialed the coroner on his office phone.

“Doctor Phyllis?”

“You back again so soon, Agent?”

“Look, we got a new victim, she's got puncture marks on her ears. Not piercings, puncture marks. Can you check the other victims to make sure they’re not puncture marks?”

“Okay, give me a minute.”

Derek heard the sound of doors opening.

“Well, shit, they are puncture marks. On every single ear.”

“Thanks, Doctor Phyllis.”

Derek hung up on the office phone.

“Do I still have you here, Detective?”

“Yep. Were they piercings?”

“Nope. Bring in the girl’s friend and call in the family members of the other victims. We’re gonna need to talk to them.”

Derek hung up the phone and ran up to Hotch’s office.

“Something up, Morgan?” Hotch asked.

“You know that case Detective Conner asked me to look into?”

“The one with the suicides?”

“Yeah, well they might not be suicides. I’m having Conner bring in some people to ask them some questions. You mind if I ask Rossi and Prentiss to help?”

“Of course not, but if we get another case then leave the questioning for Detective Conner, alright?”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Derek gathered Rossi, Prentiss, and Penelope in the break room to discuss the case.

“Babygirl, you want to read out the profiles of our victims?”

“Reluctantly,” Penelope pulled up each of the files onto her laptop. “Danica Wilson, a 45 year old woman, was found by her landlord. She grew up in Victoria, Canada, but when she was 12, her parents got a divorce. Her mother moved her and her three siblings to North Dakota shortly after. All throughout highschool she seemed immensely interested in biology and chemistry. She was really good at it too, she took AP classes and she was a promising student. Unfortunately, her mom didn’t want her to do anything of the sort, and set her up for ballet classes her junior year. To appease her mom she studied the history of dance during college and ended up climbing up from an intern at a dance company all the way to a choreographer. Her love for science was still there the whole way through though, she’s been taking free college courses online for biology for about a year. She was found with her wrists slashed and spread out in a star shape on the middle of her bed. There were no fingerprints anywhere in her home and the slashes appeared to be self inflicted. Her mom died a week before she was found, all of her siblings live in other states, and she didn't have any close friends. She never dated, even though she had perfect brown eyes and blonde hair. According to her siblings she had all of the boys at her school after her. Despite there being no evidence of depression or other mental illness officers deemed her mothers death as a stressor and marked her death a suicide.”

“Then we have Maya Peto, 22 years old, found by her sister.”

“So there’s no age preference?” Rossi asked.

“Precisely,” Penelope continued, “She grew up in Detroit. Her parents raised her in a Christian household and shes been openly gay since she was 18. Her dad died when she was 14, leaving Maya and one sister to be raised by their mother. She did exceptionally well in math, but seemed to have no interest in pursuing it as a career. Instead, she became captain of her dance team in highschool and went to Wirtson’s Dance Academy for college. Her last year there, she was picked by Next Star Theatre Company, the same one as all of the other victims, to be on their ballet team. She was found just like Danica, and would be just like the rest of the victims. Her now ex-girlfriend and her had a kid, his name is Gene, he’s a year old, and Maya had full custody of him because Khloe, the girlfriend, had begun doing drugs about a week after Gene was born. How could lesbians have a child? Khloe was cheating. Maya gained full custody of Gene after a year long legal battle, and she had left him with her sister for a weekend while she baby proofed her house. Unfortunately, when she went to Maya’s apartment to return Gene, she found her dead. It was the anniversary of her father’s death when she was found, so the ever so ignorant officers deemed it another suicide.

“Then we have Annie Carr, 24. A coworker found her. Born here in Virginia, Annie was raised by her dad after her mom died when she was about one. She seemed to have a pretty awesome life. Her dad worked two jobs and she’s never had all that much money, but she was a happy kid. She went to a community college and ended up taking the same internship that Danica Wilson took, but she has stayed in that internship for years, mooching money off of her dad and siblings. Mabel Golden, the coworker that found her, claims that there’s no way Annie could’ve killed herself. She didn’t show any signs of depression or mental illness, though she could be pessimistic at times. Mabel said their boss was threatening to let her go, seeing as she hasn’t improved her work ethic in the last five years. Deemed another suicide.

“The fourth victim was Valentine Orange, 36, found by her father. She grew up in Maryland, started acting and dancing at six, her family was pretty wealthy, and she got accepted into the same dance academy and theatre company as Maya Peto. She also danced on the same ballet team. She told her team leader she was going away for a week to her father’s beach house, and when her father came to get her on the day she was supposed to leave, he found her in the guest bedroom, just like the other victims. The beach house was located in Maryland, and due to Detective Cooper’s hunch, the case got handed to us for an equivocal death investigation.

“Francis Falstaff, our fifth victim, was found by her adoptive mother. She was 22. Both of her parents died in a car crash a month after she was born, so she grew up in a multitude of foster homes. When she was ten her and her sister were adopted by Baron Falstaff and Maggie Falstaff. They seemed to be good parents. They went to all of their school events and paid for both of the girls’ college tuition. Francis was trying to make it into the same theatre company that employed the rest of the victims, specifically to work as a jazz dancer. She seemed to have killed herself, just like the rest of the victims, but her mom insists that she couldn’t have. She had a very promising life ahead of her. When they dissected her room they found an evidence board in the back of her closet. Her sister, Yvette, was stabbed to death a couple years back on the way to a party, and Francis was obsessed with finding the killer. Which is why she didn’t have many friends. When it was all processed, they found that the evidence led to Yvette’s boyfriend at the time. It was assumed that this weighed heavily enough on Francis that she ended up, well you know, on the same day she found out.

“Jane Sweeney, the second to last victim who worked on the Next Star Theatre Company ballet team, was 29. She’s been with the company since she was 20, and unfortunately her private teacher was the one who found her. Her father left when she was young. She liked expressing all of her success, almost narcissistically so. According to some other people on the dance team she was the best dancer and loved flaunting it. She was a kind of queen bee and seemed to value herself more than others most of the time. It just doesn’t make sense for her to kill herself.

“Lillian Bonner was the next victim. She was 54. She taught modern dance at the company. She lived with and was found by her only son, Tyrell, who she had with her husband Ivan. Though they were still legally married, the two were separated. Tyrell, who’s 16, said she was a fantastic mom. She always made sure he was fed and had someone to talk to. He told her practically everything about his life and he is having a really difficult time without her. He doesn’t believe that she would do that to herself.

“Our last victim was Camille Price. She was 25. Her best friend, Spencer Reid, who was on the same ballet team, found her. She was the only one who really had people around her. She grew up in Virginia with her parents and two brothers, one older, one younger. She visited them whenever she could. Everyone in her apartment building loved her, she even made dinner for one of the elderly occupants every Friday. Spencer doubts there is anything that would want to make her commit suicide, and to put the icing on the cake, there were puncture marks on her ears that police mistook for piercings. ‘What were they?’ you ask? Injection sites. How do we know this? Spencer swore that there was no way they could be piercings because Camille never wore earrings the entire 8 years he knew her because the Next Star Theatre Company does not allow their dancers to wear piercings or jewelry.”

“Alright, let’s go see if these people got any info for us.” Rossi got out of his seat and headed towards the interview rooms.

TAGLIST: @hotchrocket @hotpotatowoman @thisdeathtollbringsnopeace @endingsbeginnings @d3pr3ss3d-w33d-wh0re @nonbinary-spencie @moss0ntherocks @scandinavian-punk @drinkingcroissants @penemily @izzyl13 @leomo0n @tiedyedrose1705 @natclis

[myhauntedsalem]

Jack The Ripper’s Ghost

Ten Bells Pub. Commercial Street E1. Jack the Ripper’s Local.

The Ten Bells Pub is indelibly linked with the legend of Jack the Ripper. Its interior, resplendent with a magnificent tiled wall panel depicting the days when this area was countryside outside the City of London, has hardly changed since the early hours of November 9th 1888, when Mary Kelly, Jack the Ripper’s final victim, left the pub.

Her horrifically mutilated body was discovered next morning in Millers Court of Dorset Street on the opposite side of the road from the Ten Bells. Indeed, for many years in the 1970’s and 1980’s the pub was renamed the Jack the Ripper, until, thanks largely to a landlord who was tastefully selling dark red “Ripper Tipple’s”, the brewery decided to return it to its original name in 1989.

In the late 1990’s live in staff whose bedrooms were on the upper floors of the building, were complaining of alarming encounters with a ghostly old man dressed in Victorian clothing. They would often be awoken by an uneasy feeling in the dead of night, and turning over, find his phantom form lying beside them on the bed! No sooner would they cry out in shock than the figure would disappear.

Staff with no previous knowledge of his ghost would often report seeing him, and their descriptions would always be the same. Nobody had any idea who he was and those who had occasion to live on the premises, learnt to just accept him as the oldest resident.

In June 2000, however, a new landlord took over the pub and decided to clear out the cellar. He found an old metal box hidden away in a corner, and opening it, discovered it contained the personal effects of a man named George Roberts. The items dated from the early 1900’s and with them was a brown leather wallet, inside which was a press cutting of the same period that talked of his having been murdered with an axe in a Swansea Cinema.

Further research revealed that a man named George Roberts had indeed kept the pub in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and the landlord concluded that it was his ghost whom staff had been encountering.

A tenant who lived on the premises in 2001 would often hear footsteps followed by a faint peal of laughter outside his door, even when he was the only person on the premises. Whenever he went to investigate he would find the corridor outside empty. Going down into the bar to investigate further he would often be pushed hard on the back by an invisible hand.

A psychic was once brought to the pub to see what she could pick up on the premises. Having reached the top floor, she paused outside one of the rooms and refused to go any further. She said that she could sense that something terrible had happened in the room and was almost certain that it involved the brutal death of a baby in the 19th century.

Lindsay Siviter, a leading researcher and expert on the Jack the Ripper Crimes, was being shown around the pub a few years later and had been allowed access to the roof space. She noticed some material embedded in the floor behind the water tank and pulling at it found it was a sack tied at the top. Opening it she found it contained a moldy set of Victorian baby clothes that appeared to have been slashed with a knife. Intriguingly the tank was directly over the room that the psychic had refused to enter.

Westminster Bridge. SW1. The Ghostly Leap of Jack the Ripper.

If you stand on Westminster Bride on December 31st, and look eastwards as midnight approaches, you may well be rewarded with a sighting of the ghost of one of London’s most enigmatic criminals.

For there is a local tradition that, as the first Chimes of Big Ben usher in the New Year, a shadowy figure will suddenly materialize on the parapet, and leap headlong into the murky waters of the Thames below.

Legend maintains that this is the hour when, in 1888, Jack the Ripper killed himself by plunging into the river from this spot, and that every year since, his wraith has been condemned to repeat his descent into infamy over and over again.

Should a festive visit be out of the question, on misty autumn mornings, a spectral barge has been known to drift towards the bridge, pass beneath it, but vanish before reaching the other side.

Mitre Square. EC3. A Poignant Wraith.

Mitre Square is now surrounded on three sides by modern office blocks and bordered on its south side by the Sir John Cass Foundation School.

Nothing remains of the Victorian square, save its cobblestones across which people hurry on their way to and from work, many not giving a thought that they are walking over the spot where one of London’s most infamous crimes occurred.

For it was in the south-west corner of Mitre Square that the horribly mutilated body of Catherine Eddowes – the fourth victim of the murderer whom history remembers simply as “Jack the Ripper” – was discovered at 1.45am on the 30th September 1888.

Local tradition maintains that on the anniversary of the killing, people have occasionally glimpsed Catherine’s spectral figure lying upon the spot where her life came to such a tragic and gruesome end.

Hanbury Street. E1. Jack the Ripper’s Second Victim.

The north side of Hanbury Street is now covered by the sprawling mass of the buildings that were formerly the Truman Brewery.

It was built on the site of number 29 Hanbury Street, in the back yard of which at around 6am on 8th September 1888, the body of Annie Chapman, Jack the Ripper’s second victim was discovered.

In the days of the brewery it was often noticed that a strange chill drifted through the boardroom at 6am on the anniversary of the murder and it was also reported that Annie Chapman’s ghost was sometimes seen standing by the wall of the storeroom that occupied the spot where she died.

[mourningmaybells]

Peter Lukas?

Rich boy bastard Peter Lukas? Mother Fucking Asshole lonely uwu cloud sweaty sea captain, only Avatar to become Martin’s BITCH, dumbest boomer to curse the Earth Peter Lukas.

I Am Calmly Asking You To Stop Reminding Me He Existed.

This bastard man cannot leave my head. Why does he pretend to be ‘nice’? Why does he pretend to be a ‘master manipulator’? Martin played this fake bitch like a toot-toot kazoo and he didn’t even know it.

Was it cause he was rich? Was it cause he was 'sheltered’? Cryptic bastard keeps haunting my thoughts driving me to smack any cloud of mist that rolls by.

He’s not even real, I’ve never even seen him and I know he’s the first image search result for racist white man- don’t deny it. He called Jon “grubby”. He probably can’t google search ‘curry’ without exploding. The Eye told me.

If I died and saw heaven’s gates, I’d say “no thank you” and go to hell just to punch this rat’s homophobic gay fucking face with my brown bi fury fists. And kill him a second time. And then a third.

I am so glad I caught up with the series and know he’s gone for good, never coming back for another divorce. He says he hates being a podcast character, and I think “Yeah bitch. Me too.” If he comes back in season 5 even as a flashback I am writing a strongly worded letter to 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒫𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝑀𝒶𝓎 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓃. And you know what? That flashback is probably an apology video for being a landlord. He’ll take off his cap, remove his make up, pretend to cry in the middle and then realize tapes don’t have built-in cameras.

I may look and sound calm while saying this, my voice may be quiet, but inside I Am Furious. He became a landlord and took Martin to his toxic-ass vape fog. He ruthlessly screened his ritual victims, all of which were somehow 120% white men, and he somehow forgot about privilege. And he 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒽𝑜𝓌 forgot about Gertrude “Ruthless Grandma” Robinson. He’s right. She should have murdered him! Good on Martin for saying “Fuck you!” to his dusty face :)!

His background makes him even worse. This rich man took advantage of people with mental health issues and money problems. And when his employees wanted to confront their shitty boss, he just wooshed them. Wooshed Them. He would have lived in failure, but then decided to steal a statement-hungry, ALL-SEEING EYE Man’s boyfriend. He really thought he could hide in the mist and survive like a rat crawling into the walls after angering a ripped, beefy exterminator. With x-ray vision.

Jonah BETTER have sent reparation money to Mr and Mr Blackwood-Sims. Mothman of color had to eat white bread just to free his Boyfriend of color from his ex-husband.

Thank Eye God Jon killed him so every Thursday I don’t have to stop myself from going into a murder rage like I’m listening to Grifter’s Bone.

Jon literally gave him the option of “be known or die” and he chose “die”. Like a dumbass.

When Jon obliterated him with the power of Gay Love, every lgbt working class person felt it. A single, happy tear rolling down their cheeks. The Earth shook and skies cleared to show the stars spelling “RIP You Piece of Shit Landlord. Ibang Lebel Ang Kagaguhan Mo.”

I Am Calm but it is still waters hiding carnivorous fish in the depths below

(Literally think his death should be a nationwide holiday. People should celebrate Jon killing racism, ableism, classism and homophobia incarnate.)

[souldrawn]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓  𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

aka  bios  are  coming  slow  and  this  is  selena’s  solution.  below  the  cut  you’ll  find  a  brief  summary  of  each  of  my  muses,  their  age,  gender,  orientation,  etc.;  everything  you  need  to  know  to  get  a  general  idea  of  who  they  are  if  you’re  not  familiar  with  them  already  and  see  if  anyone  sparks  your  interest.  thank  you  for  reading!

DEBBIE  LOOMIS:  ex-wife  to  a  cheating  husband  and  ex-mother  to  a  deceased  son  who  turned  to  murder  after  she  left  home  and  never  looked  back.  her  resentment  toward  her  failing  marriage,  grief  over  the  loss  of  her  son  and  rage  over  the  women  responsible  ( in  her  mind )  for  it  all  turned  her  down  a  path  of  serial  murder  with  one  goal  in  sight:  kill  sidney  prescott.  ( mid-40s,  cis  female,  heterosexual ).

GALE  WEATHERS:  a  local  reporter  with  unmatched  ambition  that  borderlines  on  ruthlessness.  she’s  not  particularly  well-received  among  some  of  the  woodsboro  community  due  to  her  cutthroat  nature  toward  covering  the  news  but  that  doesn’t  stop  her  from  doing  whatever  it  takes  to  get  the  facts  and  the  story.  (  28 - 50s,  cis  female,  tbd ).

KIM  POSSIBLE:  just  your  basic,  average  girl  who  just  so  happens  to  save  the  world between  cheer  practice,  babysitting  jobs,  school  and  maintaining  a  social  life.  fighting evil  day  after  day  is  no  big,  but  acing  cheer  regionals,  getting  hard-headed  teachers  off  your  back  or  securing  a  date  to  the  school  dance  can  be  so  the  drama  sometimes.  ( 15 - 18,  cis  female,  bisexual ).

SIDNEY  PRESCOTT:  a  woman  doomed  to  a  life  of  trauma  and  survival,  with  a  spine  of  steel  and  a  heart  of  gold.  sidney  was  forced  to  grow  up  at  a  young  age  when  forced  to  deal  with  the  loss  of  her  mother  at  the  hands  of  a  murderer;   from  there  things  seemed  to  steadily  spiral  as  she  became  the  unwitting  ‘final  girl’  in  what  has  been  four  separate  murder  sprees  to-date.  she  always  comes  out  of  it  alive,  but  at  what  cost?  ( 16 - 45,  cis  female,  lesbian ).

TREE  GELBMAN:  resident  campus  party  girl  and  sorority  alpha  bitch  turned  murder  victim...  again,  and  again,  and  again.  dying  and  reliving  the  same  day  on  loop  forces her  to  face  the  person  she  is,  the  people  she’s  hurt,  and  the  grief  she’s  buried  for  three  years  and  refused  to  acknowledge  until  she’s  been  forced  to  stare  death  in  the face  more  times  than  she  can  count.  oh  yeah,  she  also  has  to  figure  out  who  keeps  killing  her,  before  she  ends  up  staying  dead.  ( 21,  cis  female,  bisexual ).

ADIRIS:  the  youngest  of  seven  left  on  the  steps  of  a  temple  at  the  age  of  five,  adiris  held  onto  the  belief  that  the  gods  had  a  greater  purpose  for  her.  she  spent  the  years  that  followed  in  quiet  servitude,  working  her  way  up  to  assisting  high  priests  when  she  came  of  age.  when  a  great  plague  began  to  ravage  the  people  of  babylonia  and  the  priests  were  no  longer  able  to  serve,  she  donned  the  title  of  high  priestess  and  persisted  to  serve  her  people  through  purification  rituals,  doing  her  best  to  hide  that  the  plague  was  slowly  eating  away  at  her  body.  when  she  isolated  in  the  mountains  with  a  few  devoted  followers  and  prayed  for  salvation,  a  fog  began  to  engulf  her  and  she  sacrificed  herself  to  the  god  behind  it  in  an  effort  to  save  the  people  of  babylonia.  while  her  body  was  never  recovered  from  the  mountains,  she  continues  to  live  on  in  a  new  realm,  where  she  sacrifices  unknowing  survivors  to  the entity,  the  god  she  believes  she  was  born  to  serve.  ( eternally  20,  cis  female,  asexual ).

AMY  ROSE:  a  spunky  hedgehog  with  a  huge  heart  for  her  friends  and  an  even  bigger  temper  that  you  don’t  want  to  trigger;  more  often  than  not,  she’s  helping  clean  up  her  friend  sonic’s  messes,  but  always  enjoys  the  adventures  he  leads  their  friends  on.  ( idk  dude  she’s  a  cartoon  hedgehog  and  I  only  write  her  bc  of  jack  so ).

ÉLODIE  RAKOTO:  a  young  woman  desperate  to  solve  the  mystery  of  her  parents’  disappearance,  élodie  is  every  bit  an  adventuring  spirit,  finding  it  more  lucrative  to  learn  and  discover  by  doing  than  observing.  she  works  as  an  occult  investigator,  something  that  lands  her  in  dangerous  situations  more  often  than  not,  but  experience coupled  with  her  sharp  wit  and  resourcefulness  ensures  she  worms  her  way  out  of  every  trap  she  can;  even  those  that  seem  to  have  no  end.  ( 29,  cis  female,  pansexual ).

LYDIA  DEETZ:  obsessed  with  death  following  the  loss  of  her  mother,  lydia,  more  than  anything,  wants  to  talk  about  and  process  her  grief:  something  her  father  is  hell-bent  on  avoiding  at  all  costs.  when  they  move  into  a  new  home  and  he  announces  his  engagement  to  the  life  coach  he  hired,  she  turns  to  the  two  ghosts  and  the  demon  she’s  befriended  for  help,  not  knowing  what  consequences  lurk  around  the  corner  for  her.  ( 15,  cis  female,  tbd ).

JUNO  MONTGOMERY:  a  pretty  average  person  living  pretty  average  life  working  at  a  pizzeria  in  downtown  los  angeles  with  the  hopes  of  hitting  it  big --- if  only  studios  would  stop  throwing  her  scripts  in  the  reject  pile.  aside  from  dealing  with  pain-in-the-ass  landlords,  entitled  customers  and  a  mountain  of  debt  courtesy  of  film  school,  life  isn’t  too  bad.  just  painfully  average.  ( 25,  cis  female,  tbd ).

NATALIA  MARTINEZ:  a  homicide  detective  with  a  knack  for  seeing  ghosts  and  communicating  with  the  dead,  thanks  to  a  traumatic  brain  injury  from  a  work-related  gunshot  wound  to  the  head  she  miraculously  survived.  investigating  murders  is  nothing  new  for  her,  but  dealing  with  souls  that  can’t  pass  over  until  everything  is  set  right  is  something  else  entirely.  ( 42,  cis  female,  lesbian ).

NICK  ROBERTSON:  lifelong  best  friend  to  jordan  riley  and  a  huge  basketball  enthusiast;  hence  why  he’s  played  since  he  could  hold  a  ball  and  rode  that  train  all  the  way  to  a  major  in  sports  medicine  at  rothfield  university.  once  graduation  day  comes,  he  and  jordan  plan  to  start  their  respective  careers  in  sunny,  sunny  california ---  they  just  have  to  survive  a  murder  spree  first.  ( 21,  cis  male,  tbd ).

PENELOPE  DUSEK:  an  immortal  witch  with  a  special  talent  for  all  things  related  and  connected  to  the  dead,  including  reanimation ---  with  some  fine  print  attached  to  that  particular  skill.  by  day,  she’s  your  pleasant  local  baker,  making  the  best  homemade  pies  in  the  county  and  catering  weddings,  birthdays,  bar  mitzvahs  and  retirements  alike,  and  by  night,  she’s  escorting  souls  of  the  recently  departed  into  the  afterlife.  you  know,  hot  girl  shit.  ( 674,  cis  female,  pansexual ).

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Four

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dark themes, death of unnamed and background characters, descriptions of blood, descriptions of a dead body Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] Cross-posted to AO3

Why was it always vampires?

It seemed like the bounty lists were chalk full of them these days, more so than normal. Which was not awful for slayers. They were generally high paying jobs, considering most of them were wanted for the murder of the humans or cryptos they’d been feeding on. You just preferred to stay away from the fangs. The superhuman abilities of a well-fed vampire were difficult to match in a fight, even for seasoned slayers. While you had the training and equipment to deal with them, the bounty was not always worth the medical bills after the fact. You specialized in the kinds of bounties that were more brains than brawn. Preferring the chase over the actual fight. Today you did not have much of a choice, apparently. You’d come into the office later in the morning and arrived to find all the new non-vampiric bounties had been promptly snatched up by the early birds. Leaving you stuck with the fangs. Great.

Your target was a vampire named Qin. He was active and was not doing much of anything to cover it up. A serious threat to everyone if left unattended to. The urgency in needing to deal with someone like him had bumped his bounty up fairly high, even for the usual vampire fair. There were plenty of breadcrumbs to follow, making your afternoon much easier. He was holed up in the old industrial district during the day. Most of the old neighborhood was being retrofitted for industrial lofts and modern condos, so there would be plenty of construction sites and condemned buildings for him to hide in and a steady stream of workers to pick off for food. Sightings and intelligence had his location narrowed down to a three-block radius. The was all easy enough. Killing him would be another story.

Vampires did not have any one magic bullet weakness- they aren’t susceptible to iron or silver- making them harder to handle. Staking one through the head or heart was usually the best way to incapacitate one, until their body was burned and ashes were scattered. That required getting closer than you were comfortable with. The last thing you wanted was a fanged creature with arms reach of your neck. You really should have just taken the day off. Too bad your landlord never took a day off when it came time to collect your rent.

Starting with the largest warehouse on the southside and moving north until you got lucky, or rather unlucky, enough to run into your bounty, seemed the best course of action. And today kept proving to be an unlucky day for you. You’d barely broken into the first building when you came across two completely drained corpses left out in the open, bodies still cooling. Your bounty was here and full of fresh blood.

Well shit.

Sword drawn you continue to sneak through the abounded building. Vampires were natural predators; their sense of smell was leagues above your own. It was more than likely he already knew you were here-unless he was occupied with another victim. That must have been the case, considering he hadn’t jumped out at you yet. On high alert you continue farther into the warehouse with a white-knuckle grip on your weapon. The main body of the building is split into two storage areas, the first dark in the overcast afternoon and empty. There are signs someone’s been around, a mattress and blankets in a corner, duffle bags and a pile of dark clothes next to a tower of take-out boxes. Odd.

You drop to the floor as the crack of a gunshot splits the silence. Mind reeling you wonder what vampire needs a fucking gun. Another scan of the space confirms you’re still alone, no shooter in sight. It must have come from the next room, too loud to have been outside the building. As you approach the partition the familiar metallic sting of fresh blood reaches your nose. Vampires don’t bleed.

Three more shots ring out, definitely from the other side of the partition.

Vampire’s don’t use guns.

Another deep breath draws more of the scents in, the dust and mildew of the building, the spark of gun powder and the overwhelming musk of human. Your bounty was not alone and wasn’t with anyone friendly. It wasn’t another slayer- once a bounty gets picked up its pulled off the lists- and most slayers didn’t smell so strongly of human, so the next logical assumption was a lone hunter. Not that it would have been hard for any human to pick up on this vampire’s trail, but if it had been law enforcement to find him the building would be flooded with cops.

You truly had the worst luck today.

Odds were probably one to four against the hunter. Humans rarely stood a chance against vampires unless they caught one out in sunlight.

A loud crash, like something heavy collapsing, shakes the silence. As a slayer you’re obligated to help the human but considering all that’s gone on in the last few weeks you’re feeling much less inclined to do so.

“Come on Mando! I thought you freaks were proud warriors and all!”

Fucking hell. Kira was right, you are a Mando magnet. The vampire’s taunt is not reassuring in the slightest. You did not need a dead Mando on your hands. Creeping into the next room you’re quick to find cover behind some dust covered work benches. Surveying the space leads you to believe the Mando and Qin have been at a while. The space is trashed, boxes toppled over and crushed, shelves up ended, and bullet holes are scattered throughout the space.

The Mando’s back is to you at the moment while he and the vampire stare each other down. You don’t need to see his face to know who you’re dealing with; you’d been on the look out for this particular mop of curls since your last run-in. How was he everywhere you needed to be? Why couldn’t you shake him?

He suddenly springs into action again, drawing the spear he’d been carrying on his back, swinging it in a wide arch at the vampire. Qin’s too fast and easily dodges the attack before going in for his own, trying to get within arm’s reach. Mando doesn’t let him, blocking each attack with deadly precision. Neither gives in, pushing back against the other, jumping around the other in attempt to land a hit.

You’re hesitant to say you’re impressed by Mando, but only out of spite. He moves like a well-oiled machine, despite not having the upper hand he does not give up control of the fight to his undead opponent. This is the most dressed down you’ve seen him, baring the silver tac vest over a dark colored shirt. You can safely assume its beskar, the metal harnessed solely by the Mandalorians. Just one of the things that made then unique to other hunters. As he circles around Qin you catch sight of blood dripping down his sharp jaw, the hair just above his ear dark and matted with it. He’d taken a pretty serious hit already.

Now you really had to help him.

This was the kind of opportunity you never had when dealing with vampires. Qin’s attention was solely focused on the hunter. There was no indication from either that they’d noticed your silent arrival. You had one shot with the element of surprise, and you needed to make it count. If you could incapacitate Qin, stun him long enough for you and Mando to finish the job you could make it out of here in one piece. Mando in close to one piece.

Although there was no magic bullet for vampires, a bullet wound did still require time and energy to heal. Even though vampires and the like were technically “undead,” they still felt and registered pain to some degree, meaning bullets also provided a certain shock factor. You lose the sword, reaching for your thigh holster instead. While you were not a fan of guns, you weren’t willing to risk a fight with a vampire for your pride. You always came prepared when dealing with a bloodsucker.

Qin and Mando continue to circle each other in their tense dance. Despite the dark look in both their eyes, Qin has a smug smirk plastered across his face, probably under the impression he was going to be having a Mandalorian for lunch. Too bad you couldn’t allow it. All you needed was a clear shot. You mentally will Mando to put some distance between him and the bloodsucker, as if that would actually work.

Your breath catches in your throat as Mando sweeps his spear in another wide arc, forcing Qin back. Maybe you were lucky today after all. The moment Qin lands back on his feet, far enough away from the hunter, you jump out from your cover and take the shot, tagging Qin in the temple.

Damn good shot.

Mando jumps as Qin’s body crumples to the ground, face drawing together in confusion. That feeling akin to satisfaction returns. You could get the jump on him and a vampire. Third time would not be his charm, you are sure of it. You would not let it.

His brain catches up with the situation and he swings around, staff pointed at you as you vault over the workbench. Next comes the recognition, his jaw dropping just a bit at your sudden materialization. You’re thankful his first reaction isn’t to attack as you’re quick to re-holster your gun.

“Focus Mando,” you quip, directing your attention back to the vampire beginning to move on the floor.

“Fuck!” Qin curses, already starting to come back to it. That seemed too quick, even for a recently fed vampire.

Mando snaps into action, kicking Qin down before his spear finds its way through the vampire’s rib cage. Judging by the ear-splitting screech Qin let’s out, Mando found his mark, staking Qin where he lays. Mando does not move as you approach with sword in hand. He does not move as you bring your blade to rest on the bounty’s neck.

“You have one chance to surrender or I collect the bounty on your head, Qin.”

“You bitch!” He snarls, thrashing around the pole shoved through his torso. “Working with a Mando, that’s low- even for a slayer!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“See you in hell one day, bitch.”

Smug even in death. Ugh. You don’t feel much as you chop his off with one swift swing. Not after you saw those two innocents on your way in. People like him were the exact reason humans called your kind monsters.

“Sunny disposition on that one,” you grumble, stepping back from Mando and the decapitated bounty. The hunter doesn’t even offer you a curtesy laugh. Stick in the mud.

“Why are you here?”

He doesn’t bother to hide the suspicion. Did he think you were following him now? That was rich.

“Doing my job. I took on the bounty for this one.” Pulling your messenger bag off, you begin to organize your supplies, “which I’d like to finish up if you have no objections.”

Mando just steps back, leaning against his staff. You can feel the weight of his gaze boring into you while you work. His eyes tracking your every move, detailing each item you pull from your clean up kit. You didn’t spot any bag of his lying around, you wonder how he had been planning on dealing with the body.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Why did you help me?”

Questions, questions.

“You let us go last time- I owed you for that at least,” you shrug. Now you were even. Well, as even as you could be with a human Mandalorian.

He’s silent for a moment, watching as you pull a few jars and a water bottle out of the bag. One contains a small collection of thistle bulbs. Mando doesn’t ask but you can see the curiosity growing as you stick the sharp plants into the vampire’s wounds.

“Vampires are weak to thistle, introduce it into the body and it halts their healing abilities. Aloe vera works too, it’s just not as flammable.

“Aloe vera and thistles?”

You chuckle, “what, did you think garlic would work?”

Mando scoffs, his sharp eye still following your hands. Next comes the burning of the body. You want to get that done as quick as possible. Thistle was not an end all weakness and even decapitated vampires could regenerate. You douse the body and head in gasoline from the water bottle.

“Light?”

Eyebrows raised you gingerly take the lighter he offers, catching the edge of Qin’s shirt with the flame. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the corpse to catch. The flames cast shadows over the Mandalorian’s face as you watch him from the corner of your eye. The air is heavy between you and not with the smell of burning flesh.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to let him kill me?”

“Why would I want that?” Had he not come to the realization that you couldn’t kill him?

“You get rid of nuisances, right? So one of you will have to kill me eventually.”

It takes all your will power to not burst out laughing. There was no way he was getting anything from an inside informant if that’s what he thought slayers did. You had this Mando pinned down about as wrong as he had you figured out. No wonder no one had been able to find a turn coat when one didn’t exist to begin with.

“I don’t know where you’re getting your info, but you need to find a different source. Trust me. As much as most slayers want to get rid of hunters, we can’t without very good reasons. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be any better than the ones we hunt.”

He quirks an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, “so what? You’re just monsters hunting other monsters?”

“One,” you hold up a finger, “we use the term crypto.”

“Crypto? Like cryptid?”

“Where do you think humans got the word from?”

Mando scoffs at that but doesn’t press.

“Two, most of us don’t actually qualify as cryptos. Slayers are primarily half-bloods.”

You revel in the confusion on his face. Never did you think you would find yourself completely altering a Mandalorian’s understanding of the world. This was priceless.

Why were you telling him all this?

“Half-bloods?”

“You know, half human?”

“That’s possible?”

Now you cannot hold back the laugh this time, “human genetics are surprisingly adaptable.”

A look of disgust washes over his face and your heart drops.

“I just want you to know we’re not so different… our job is to stop those who hurt or take advantage of humans, to stop those who threaten to expose us. I imagine that’s not so different from what Mandalorians want…” after all, they couldn’t want to kill you all, could they?