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coloursflyaway · 4 months

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Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 18.000

Read on AO3

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.” ____________ Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Tags for everyone who wanted one ♥: @that-ineffable-devil @mentally-unstable-fangirl @tipsyscone @butternutsquashthesenutz @makemeimmortalwithahug @mylu @imineffible @fabledshadow @asherxme @twopercentboy

„Now, I think this concludes our business“, Edwin says and fixes his bow-tie, the collar of his shirt. His lips feel strange, now that they have tasted their first kiss (and their second, and third, and fourth, and…, his treacherous mind corrects him), but this was a small price to pay for safe passage out of this godforsaken town. “So, could you please transport me back to my friend?”

The creature in question unfurls his body from the sofa they were lounging on for the transaction, and even if Edwin cannot find much that is good about this situation, the Cat King at least has been rather civil about it all, no matter his unconventional request for payment.

Even now, he walks closer and there is a smirk on his lips.

Lips, Edwin does not want to look at, because he knows how they feel and knows that they felt right in one, and terrifyingly wrong in all other ways.

“If you insist”, the Cat King drawls, and brushes two fingers across Edwin’s shoulders. “I can take you back to your little friend. But you’re also more than welcome to stay a little longer…”

“No, thank you”, Edwin cuts him off before he can continue, because he needs to get back to Charles, and as soon as possible, too. “As far as I can tell, you have been made quite happy, so I consider my debt repaid and would very much like to return where I belong.”

And the Cat King looks at him like he knows something he won’t tell Edwin yet, and snaps his fingers, and the world changes.

Edwin disappears in front of their eyes, and Charles forces down the spark of panic that comes with that.

The Cat King wanted to talk and Edwin can handle it, of course he can. Even if Charles would have liked it much better if he could have done it within his sight.

The warehouse looks different when it reappears.

Edwin needs a moment to make sense of it, but then his gaze gets stuck on the scratches on the walls, the splintered wood and bent metal, the wrecked throne and the hole in the floor that looks like someone dug it with their bare hands, blood streaked across the grey concrete.

It looks like a crime scene, like a war had been waged inside of it, and then Edwin’s eyes find Charles’ form in the middle of the broken up ground.

He’s sunken on the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his coat torn to shreds, his white socks stained, and his hair a matted mess of curls. Bits of concrete are stuck in there, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice, like he doesn’t seem to notice anything else around him, and it scares Edwin more than anything ever has before.

Before he knows it, he is moving, gasping out Charles’ name, and for a terrible, terrifying second, Charles does not react. He just sits there, motionless, like he is stuck in limbo; then he looks up, slowly, like he is moving through molasses, and somehow, it’s worse.

There is no life left in his eyes.

Usually, they shine brighter than the sun itself, sparkling with every emotion Charles is feeling, but now their light is dimmed until it has all but gone out, their brown not warm and inviting anymore, but flat.

A sound tumbles from Edwin’s lips, although he cannot quite make out what kind, something between a sob and a plea and a prayer, and Edwin is about to drop to his knees in front of him, when Charles propels himself upwards and flings himself into Edwin with a force that knocks them both to the ground.

If he was still breathing, the impact would force the air out of Edwin’s lungs, but he is certain that even then, he wouldn’t realise it, because Charles is holding him so tightly it compresses his non-existent ribs, like he has been hurt, like he had thought Edwin was.

And he’s crying.

It’s the kind of crying Edwin hasn’t experienced before, but something which he understands anyway; it’s the kind of crying he would hear in hell, seeping through the cracks of his doll house, the kind he would see much later when he was escaping.

It’s crying without any kind of restraint because there is no strength left to fight it, the kind of crying that comes from desperation so deep it captures your entire soul, and forces anything else into meaninglessness.

Edwin has never cried like this before, and he swears right then and there that he will find and butcher whoever did this to Charles.

Three hours have passed and Edwin isn’t yet back.

Charles is doing his very best to keep calm, but it is so, so difficult when the only thing those damned cats are willing to say is, sometimes the King likes to keep them for a while.

What is a while?, Charles had asked, but there had been nothing but a self-satisfied meow, which most likely just means that the cats know about as much as Charles does.

Which is not reassuring, but in the end, it will be fine.

Edwin might not know how to fight, but he’s clever and he’s brave and he would never leave Charles alone.

“Shh, it’s alright”, he is whispering into Charles’ curls, trying to soothe him even though it doesn’t seem to be working at all.

Charles is crying like the world has ended, his sobs so violent they make Edwin’s chest seize up, his fingers grabbing and pulling at Edwin’s clothes like he wants to sink into him and fuse their bodies together.

And Edwin might not know how to fix this, but he’ll damn himself to Hell if he lets go.

He’s about to try and change their position in hopes of making Charles more comfortable, when there is a thud and the sound of splashing liquid behind them.

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there’s more important matters at hand.

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

Edwin has been gone for a day and a half and Charles is going insane.

He knows he’s going insane, but that doesn’t change anything, because Edwin has been gone for a day and a half, and they have never been apart for this long since they met.

“I swear to God, if you don’t bring him back, like, this instant, I’m going to start breaking things”, he tells one of the cats that have come to watch them; it’s not an effective threat because Charles has been saying this for at least six hours, but he cannot stop himself, because he feels like breaking things.

He feels like he needs to break things, and that scares him, but what scares him much, much more is that Edwin isn’t here, and he has been gone for a day and a half, and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

“Sure thing, lover boy”, one of the cats replies, and Charles shouldn’t, but he screams.

Silence stretches between them, only interrupted by Charles’ sobs, his heaving breaths.

“What do you mean, I have been gone for six weeks?”, Edwin finally asks, dread of a previously unknown type and magnitude filling him with every tear Charles is crying into his suit.

“What do you think I mean? I mean, six weeks, you have been gone for six weeks, and we have been looking all over for you and this one”, she gestures to Charles, “has taken the entire town apart because he was so convinced that he would have to dig you out of Hell with his own bare hands. That’s what I mean with you have been gone for six weeks.”

And she looks down at Charles who is shaking in Edwin’s arms, and there is tenderness and true affection in her eyes, which vanishes as soon as her gaze returns to Edwin.

“So, like. Good to have you back, but also, what the fuck, how could you do this to him?”

It’s been two days since Edwin was whisked away by that absolute prick of a Cat King and Charles is losing his mind. Whatever he thought before about going insane was nothing, nothing at all, because this is so much worse.

Crystal, bless her, has been trying to calm him down, but there is only so much she can do, which is nothing at all, because Edwin is gone and no one will fucking talk to Charles and tell him what is going on.

So, he is pacing, because he cannot start smashing things up, even if he wants to.

Not because of any consideration Charles has for the Cat King or his kingdom or his subjects, but because Edwin will come back and he will have solved everything, and he will be so cross with him if Charles starts smashing things up.

So, instead, he paces, and thinks about how he’ll hug Edwin once he’s back, no matter if Edwin wants him to or not, and how he won’t let him out of his sight for the rest of eternity.

Six weeks.

The words shatter something within Edwin that he didn’t know existed, tear him down until he’s not sure if he’s still the same person as he was before.

Because Charles is crying in his arms like he watched the world end, and suddenly Edwin doesn’t just understand the emotion there, but feels it deeply, viscerally.

If Charles had been gone for six weeks, he would be tearing the world apart with his bare hands to get him back.

And suddenly, every one of Charles’ sobs is an open wound, every trembling grasping of his fingers a broken bone, every time he breathes in, wet and desperate and painful, is a death he dies, because Edwin is the one who caused this.

Edwin, who was gone for six weeks without knowing, who has left the most important person in his life to suffer without him; Edwin, who can’t do anything but hug Charles tighter, and pray to whatever god will hear him that Charles will be able to forgive him.

It’s been three days and Charles doesn’t care anymore.

He has told Crystal as much, after she had dragged him out on a coffee run, insisting that he cannot spend his entire time in that godforsaken warehouse. Which she is wrong about, he realises as soon as he has stepped outside, because Edwin could come back any second and Charles would not be there to take care of him after whatever this Cat King has been putting him through.

At first, the Cat King hadn’t seemed too bad, not dangerous, more annoying, but apparently Charles had been wrong because Edwin isn’t here, and there is no way Edwin would leave Charles alone for this long, especially because he must know how worried Charles is by now.

So, the only explanation is that the Cat King must be keeping Edwin from leaving somehow and Charles will not allow it.

He should have gone with him right away, shouldn’t have let Edwin out of his sight, will never do so again.

So, he lets Crystal get the coffee she wants, but ignores her looks when he brandishes his cricket bat even before they walk into the warehouse. Maybe he is overreacting, because it has only been three days, but at the same moment, Charles knows he isn’t, because maybe for other people, spending three days away from their best friend is just part of everyday life, but it isn’t for them.

Charles is used to looking up at any given time and finding Edwin within his sight and the fact that he isn’t terrifies Charles to the point where it is hard to think.

That’s why it doesn’t matter that Crystal is obviously uncomfortable when Charles twirls the bat around as he enters the warehouse, just like it doesn’t matter that the cats scatter, not even that Edwin would tut and tell Charles to use his head to solve this, not his muscles.

Because Edwin isn’t here, is he?

“Oi!”, he calls into the vast room and sends more cats running. “One of you little fuckers is going to tell me where your King has taken my friend or I’ll start smashing shit up around here, alright?”

Just to make sure they know he means business, Charles brings down his bat on the closest barrel and feels the metal dent under the impact.

It’s satisfying in a way that scares him, but everything scares him right now, so this doesn’t matter, either.

“Do you hear me?”, he shouts and knows that he doesn’t sound commanding, just desperate, because that’s what he is, desperate and scared and not even good enough to keep the most important person in the world safe. But maybe desperate is enough for this, because desperate people do desperate things and Charles is about to rip this place into bits and pieces until he finds Edwin again.

There is no answer, and Crystal reaches out to tug on his jacket, like she thinks he doesn’t mean it, but oh, that’s where she is wrong.

They have only spent a week and a half together so Charles doesn’t hold it against her, but he’ll show her, just like he’ll show the cats, how much he means it.

Edwin isn’t certain how long they stay like this, but it’s not like he cares either. His mind is still reeling from the revelation that he has been gone for six weeks, his heart caught in a cycle of ripping itself apart for leaving Charles alone and patching itself up once more because he cannot let Charles see how much he is hurting, not when Charles needs him to be strong now.

Despite having existed for over a hundred years, Edwin has never become comfortable with another person’s touch – Charles’ being the exception – but he knows that Charles needs it, so his hands have started running over Charles’ back, combing through his lovely curls, anything that will let Charles know that he is here and he is safe and he isn’t leaving ever again.

“For me, it was only a few hours”, Edwin whispers, a response that comes far too late, feels like far too little, because who cares what it was like for him if it has left Charles in such a state? “If I had known that time passed different there, I would have come back immediately. I wouldn’t have spent a second with that blasted man.”

His hand is cupping Charles’ head, trying to support him through sobs that seem to wreck through his body with the intensity of an earthquake, the tears they bring soaking through Edwin’s jacket and shirt. Even if his spectral skin cannot feel them, Edwin knows it anyway, just like he knows the desperate grip Charles has on his back, the shaking of his slender body in Edwin’s arms.

“Time passed differently-”, Crystal starts but then stops herself, almost like a decision Edwin can see her make, before she crouches down and puts a hand on Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s. Part of Edwin wants to push it away, because it should be him who touches Charles, no on else. “You know what, we can talk about that later. We have to get him out of here first, then we can figure the rest out.”

Metal bends and wood breaks and concrete doesn’t do much at all apart from sending shocks up Charles’ arms, especially if he does it again and again and again.

If he was still alive, his muscles would be screaming, he’d be covered in cuts and bruises, splinters embedded in his flesh and being driven deeper with every motion; like this, there is nothing, just Charles and the cricket bat and the violence he is unleashing.

The first hit had felt good, like a release, but by now it feels like nothing at all anymore, but in the end, he does not do it to feel better, but to get these goddamned cats to finally tell him where Edwin is.

It’s the only thing that matters, that has mattered, will matter, and Charles will take the whole fucking warehouse apart if that is what it takes.

His bat slams into the side of a barrel, denting it, and a cat flees; his bat hits a post and another one does.

“Just give him back!”, he screams and he sounds crazed, but that doesn’t matter either. “Tell me where he is!”

There is carnage around him, there’s bits of wood flying where Charles’ swing has toppled a palette over, and it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all.

It’s nearly impossible to get Charles to stand up and it breaks Edwin’s heart, because Charles should be light on his feet, a flurry of motion even if he is trying to stand still, but instead he stumbles when Crystal helps lift him up. His hands are still clutching to Edwin’s clothes, cramped to the point where Crystal can’t dislodge them, although she is whispering soft nothings, coaxing with even softer touches.

In the end, they shift his arms so that they are around Edwin’s neck, clinging to him when Edwin picks him up like one would a child.

Were they still alive, Edwin wouldn’t be able to carry him a step, but Charles’ astral body has no weight to it, so Charles’ head comes to rest somewhere between Edwin’s neck and shoulder, fresh tears spilling down to wet his collar.

His sobs have quieted somehow, but he is still crying, still mute to Crystal’s questions and Edwin’s attempts of encouragement.

In all the three decades Edwin has known him, he has never seen Charles like this, never this closed off or devastated; it hurts in ways Edwin didn’t know he could hurt.

Crystal doesn’t talk much to him, but for once, Edwin doesn’t blame her: if he had been here in her stead, watching Charles spiral from his usual self to this state, he also wouldn’t want to talk to the person responsible for it.

So, he just follows her to the room she is still renting, holding onto Charles’ trembling form and swearing to never let him go again.

Eventually it’s Crystal who stops him.

She screams his name over the sounds of destruction, an expression on her pretty face that Charles has no energy left to decipher.

“Charles, they are not telling you anything”, she says, and yes, that’s the problem. “Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Edwin is somewhere else entirely, maybe the Cat King has taken him somewhere else in town.”

It makes little sense, and Charles wants to go back and smash another barrel into pieces, just in case it’s this one that will make those fucking cats tell him where Edwin is, when Crystal puts a hand on his shoulder and adds, “Maybe he needs our help there.”

Suddenly, a barrage of images: Edwin kept prisoner, forced into iron shackles; Edwin, being tortured; Edwin, waiting for Charles to come free him.

Charles, who has sworn to protect him and failed once already.

Edwin puts Charles down on Crystal’s bed, but even then Charles doesn’t let go of him and Edwin is touched, Edwin is terrified.

He seems so small like this, curled up on Edwin’s lap, and Edwin’s heart aches with love and with devotion and with an unbearable amount of guilt.

Without thinking, he pushes a hand through Charles’ hair again, but this time, Charles shivers against him, either because of the touch or by chance, Edwin isn’t sure.

“What happened?”, he asks Crystal softly, as not to disturb Charles.

“What do you think?”, she asks instead of answering, “He thought you were gone. He thought you might be gone forever, or trapped in Hell, or another thousand things his poor brain came up with. Would have gotten himself wiped out of existence if I hadn’t stopped him. Or dragged down to hell. He was willing to do absolutely anything to find you.”

She looks down at Charles and Edwin watches her eyes soften, like she is watching something precious; she is right, of course, but part of his heart still screams for her to stop.

“I’m not sure you know how much he loves you”, she tells him, her expression still soft, and it’s preposterous, it’s uncalled for, and Edwin desperately wishes it not to be true.

They search the harbour and the lighthouse, the library and the abandoned houses scattered around town, the high school and the cemetery; Edwin is nowhere and Charles curses Port Townsend and its people, curses the two of them for ever setting foot in it and curses Crystal for bringing them here.

In the woods, they find something akin to a shrine, complete with ancient writing that Charles cannot read, but there is no sign of Edwin anywhere. Around it, skeletons are scattered across the grass, and Charles should care about it, should make this a case, but the thought of it feels so far removed he’s almost surprised when Crystal picks it up to bring with them.

That summons the skeletons and they run, and Charles forgets about it almost immediately afterwards because it doesn’t matter, nothing does.

As Crystal outlines the events in the past six weeks in broad strokes, Charles hardly stirs, even if his tears dry at some point.

He’s not asleep, because that is not a luxury granted to them, but Edwin notices this kind of exhaustion anyway; he’s felt it before, after he had crawled out of Hell, covered in soot and bile and blood, and had collapsed right there on the floor, finally safe, but unable to move for what felt like an eternity.

And he understands it, too: he’d rather go to Hell again than lose Charles.

“He just sat there?”, he asks when Crystal is nearing the end of her tale, because it seems impossible, should be that. Charles is movement, is a constant dance, and yet Crystal is telling him that prior to Edwin’s return, he hadn’t moved in a fortnight. And it should be inconceivable, but Edwin thinks of how he found Charles, sunken into himself like he had become part of the ground itself, and suddenly it is difficult to doubt her words.

Crystal nods, and again her gaze softens when it touches Charles; again something within Edwin twists and hisses.

“He said he wasn’t leaving until you came back”, she explains, and her voice is a caress not meant for him, but Charles, who cannot hear it. “And he said he would wait forever if he had to… and I believed him.”

“Oh, Charles.”

It’s a declaration of love, of sorrow, of everything in between, and for a second, Charles stirs in Edwin’s lap, before he settles back down; it’s for the best, even if Edwin craves to see Charles’ eyes with some semblance of life in them like a starving man might crave a meal.

He strokes his knuckles down Charles’ spine, wishing he could feel the bumps of every vertebra, and Charles presses closer, almost imperceptibly so.

“Thank you for taking care of him”, he tells Crystal and means it, even if the words feel like pulling barbed wire through his airways, because taking care of Charles isn’t Crystal’s duty, it’s Edwin’s. But she was there when Edwin wasn’t, and it comforts him at least a little to know that Charles hadn’t been alone.

“Of course”, Crystal says, and her eyes stay soft, stay on Charles, “but don’t you fucking do that again.”

The vase helps nothing at all, because Charles cannot read the words that were transcribed on it or the table, because he’s useless without Edwin at his side.

Edwin would be able to solve this, there is a reason why he’s the brains of the operation after all, but Charles? The best he can do is put the vase down on Crystal’s table and all but forget about it.

Until he comes back that night from another trip to the harbour, the magic shop, the warehouse, without Edwin, whose absence feels more like a gaping, oozing wound with every passing second, and there is a stranger in Crystal’s bed.

She’s petite and looks peaceful, but Charles doesn’t even get to ask what she is doing there before Crystal starts talking.

“I put some flowers into the weird vase we found”, she says, and it doesn’t explain anything at all, “Dandelions that I found when I went back to check if we had missed anything in the woods, you know, because of the skeletons. And I heard a thud from the hallway and Niko here had passed out right in the middle of it. Which, in itself, would have been concerning, but then...God, there is no way to say this without sounding insane, but there were little people? Crawling out of her mouth? Which are now asleep in the dandelions I put into the vase.”

She looks at Charles like she expects a response, but it’s really difficult to give one, when it’s… well. When it’s not about Edwin.

“That’s good?”, he tries and Crystal rolls her eyes, looking annoyed for a second.

“Charles, I know this isn’t-”, she starts, but then stops herself, her expression softening. “I know you are worried about Edwin, but I need your help with this, okay? It won’t take long, we just have to take those little creatures back to their little altar thing so they won’t crawl back into Niko once they wake up. Can you do that for me?”

It seems reasonable and Charles still wants to say no, because nothing matters as long as Edwin isn’t back where he should be, but then he remembers, dimly, through the pain and the confusion and the gaping hole that is Edwin’s absence, that this is what they set out to do.

Help people.

So, he nods, and Crystal smiles, and that might matter at least a little bit.

“I’ll take him back to London tomorrow”, Edwin says into the silence that has settled around them. “Through the mirror. Not because I don’t want you to come, just…”

He doesn’t quite know how to say it, but Crystal seems to understand it anyway.

“That’s a good idea”, she agrees easily, and reaches out to touch a hand to Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s hand once more. “I think he should be back home and you two… I think it might be good if you had some time to sort through things. I’ll join you later.”

In any other situation, Edwin would ask what she means by that, but right now, it really doesn’t seem to matter, so he just nods, settles back against the headboard, and lets his eyes slip shut.

Charles takes the vase back where they found it, and there should be some kind of satisfaction in it, something about the job being jobbed and the day being saved and the stranger, Niko, being out of danger, but there is nothing but the gaping hole in his chest where his heart is supposed to be, because Edwin isn’t there with him.

When the sun is rising, the first rays of light coming through the windows, Edwin tries to rouse Charles once more.

“Charles?”, he asks as softly as he possibly can, not yet pulling away. “I was thinking, we should go back to London.”

For a few moments, there is no answer, but then Charles slowly, ever so slowly, sits up, his arms still around Edwin’s neck, as if he couldn’t bear to lose their closeness.

And Edwin expects a reaction, but none as violent as he gets when he finally sees Charles’ face again.

It’s not like he has forgotten it; for him, not even a day has passed, and yet it feels like seeing him for the first time.

His eyes are the same brown Edwin has become so familiar with, but they are dull still, even if a hint of life has returned to them; they are rimmed with red, eyelashes clumped together as if Charles had just been crying. And he might have been, even if the thought that he didn’t notice hurts Edwin in completely new, unexpected ways.

“You’re really back”, Charles whispers and the words are a sob and a prayer and an exaltation, and Edwin’s heart breaks because he should never have been back, he should have just been there. “You’re really here.”

There are tears spilling down his face, making his gaze a little brighter and yet not worth it; Edwin reaches out to wipe them away without thinking and Charles trembles under his touch like he never has before.

“I never meant to be away that long”, he tells Charles, although he’s not sure it matters, because he was, and there is nothing he can say or do to make it better. “I never wanted to worry you.”

I never want to be away from you for more than a few seconds, he thinks, but doesn’t say, doesn’t recognise the thought but knows it to be true nonetheless.

“I know”, Charles says, and it’s still half a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks for Edwin to wipe away. “I always knew that. And you came back and you’re safe and that’s all that matters and I just. I missed you so much.”

And it’s not all that matters, not by a long shot, but for now, Edwin just nods and wipes another tear from Charles’ skin.

Niko wakes up again and she’s lovely in a way Charles knows Edwin would have enjoyed, but if anything, that just makes the need to get Edwin back worse.

It’s been a week and Charles desperately wishes he could sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to feel this all the time.

At least Niko seems to be willing to help, which would be a relief if Charles had any hope left that looking through town would bring Edwin back. But they have been everywhere thrice, have looked at every single thing Tragic Mick has on sale, and Edwin is just gone, like the Cat King has made him vanish from existence.

The thought cuts into Charles’ flesh like iron would, burning hot and torturous and it’s been a week and maybe there’s no other way. Edwin must be hurt or captured or a thousand other things Charles won’t allow himself to think of, and Charles will bring him back, no matter what it takes.

“Could you girls go and check the lighthouse again? Maybe the beach?”, he asks and maybe Crystal is getting suspicious, but he cannot find it in himself to care. “I just, I don’t want him to get back and there not being anyone there to take care of him. Please?”

It’s enough to convince them; they won’t find anything, he knows it deep in his bones, but it gives him the time and the space to go back to the warehouse and do what is necessary.

It takes some convincing to get Charles to let go of Edwin enough to stand up, his hands sliding down Edwin’s arms like he doesn’t want to lose contact, and it’s then when Edwin’s gaze gets caught by something that should be impossible.

There’s red on Charles’ fingers.

Not the red Edwin associates with him, but the red of dried blood and fresh wounds and overwhelming pain; Charles’ fingers are stained with blood, his nails torn to the flesh, some missing ,his knuckles scraped and bruised.

A gasp escapes him, because they cannot get hurt, they are already dead. Wounds, even those from iron, are fleeting, fade within minutes. And yet, Charles’ hands are battered, bloodied, like he had just been punching a wall.

Without thinking, Edwin takes them in his, fingers delicately gripping Charles’ wrists as not to hurt his poor, wounded hands any further, as he raises them up for inspection.

“What happened?”, he asks and hears his voice breaking, feels his heart do the same.

Charles’ eyes flicker downwards and there’s a fleeting look of recognition there, but nothing more. No surprise, no confusion, not even pain.

“Oh, yeah”, he says distractedly, turning his hands within Edwin’s grasp. “It happened a few weeks ago, when I was trying to dig through the concrete. Started out with just a scrapes that healed again, no problem, but then at some point they just stayed. Don’t really know what they’re about.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Yeah”, Charles says easily, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t send Edwin’s mind spiralling. “But you get used to it, don’t you?”

It’s the warehouse again because it’s always the warehouse because Edwin has gotten lost there, and Charles has to get him back, no matter what.

So he marches into there, cricket bat brandished, and sends the cats scattering. Their King has not yet returned, his throne empty and Charles’s non-existent, aching heart seizes in his chest, like it does every time he looks at that horrible pile of palettes.

For a moment, he wants to beat it into splinters even more than he already has, wants to reduce it to dust, but then he stops himself.

It’s not what he is there to do.

One of the cats is too slow; Charles catches it easily, even if it is scratching and screaming and twisting its little body in a futile attempt to break free.

Charles doesn’t want to hurt it, but if that is what is necessary, he will.

“Tell me where he took my friend”, he hisses at the creature, ignoring that the scratches sting like fire, ignoring that the cat is most likely terrified of him. “If you don’t I’m going to crush every bone in your body and I won’t even regret it.”

There is a moment of silence, and Charles sees his hands covered in blood, feels thin bones splinter in his grip, imagines a life going out because of him, and he doesn’t want to do it, but he will if he has to.

Its little legs kick out again, before they go still and then, with the most contempt Charles has ever heard in another being’s voice, it says, “There is a cave south of here where the King sometimes goes when he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Is Edwin there?”, Charles asks, a hint of hope blooming in his chest, because it’s a direction at least, a possibility. Yet, he tightens his fingers just so, just enough to let the cat know he means it.

“If you will find him, it will be there”, the cat replies and Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and lets go.

Edwin tries not to watch Charles say goodbye to Crystal, but it’s impossible not to, because Charles won’t let go of his hand. And Edwin cannot feel it, but he knows that Charles’ knuckles are still raw and his nails torn down to the flesh, and it is impossible to think of anything else.

“You’ll take care of yourself, okay?”, Crystal says, and reaches out to hug Charles, who goes willingly, their joined hands dragging Edwin closer, too. Their joined hands, Charles’ bruised and bleeding because of Edwin.

“’Course I will”, Charles answers and buries his face in Crystal’s hair; Edwin wants to tear him away from her and keep him to himself for the rest of forever. “You, too, though. And take care of Niko.”

“I will. Maybe she wants to come with me to London. See the sights. The agency. The haunted vending machine.”

The words give Edwin a start; that case, the vending machine that used to be haunted until Charles and he convinced the ghost stuck in there to move on in 2002, is nothing Crystal should know about. It’s one of the cases Charles and he still refer to sometimes when they pass that particular machine, a little inside joke.

That Crystal knows about it, that this Niko does as well, is an almost physical blow to Edwin’s chest, and for a moment, he does not know why.

But then Charles pulls back, his bloodied hand in Edwin’s still, and says, “That’d be brills. And we can make a few new memories, too. Good ones, this time.”

And suddenly, it is so clear: in the last three decades and some, there have been almost no memories they haven’t shared, and suddenly, there are six weeks of Charles’ existence that Edwin hasn’t been part of and the realisation of it feels like it’s ripping him to shreds.

“We should go”, he says, before he thinks of it, and it is unkind and cruel and selfish to ask Charles to cut his goodbyes short; yet Edwin cannot help but feel relief when Charles looks at him for a second and nods. “I’ll see you in two days, okay, Crys?”

And Crystal, who has a nickname too, nods, and Edwin breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Charles drags the girls with him to the woods to the south, unsure where to find the cave and yet determined to do so.

Chances are that Crystal is just humouring him, but Charles doesn’t care. And it doesn’t matter, does it, because it’s her who finds it in the end.

“This doesn’t look very nice for a kitty”, Niko comments as they come closer; Charles still isn’t certain if she knows what and who they are looking for, but he doesn’t have the time stop and explain it, not if Edwin might be here, might be hurt, might be being tortured.

“I’m not sure if the Cat King would describe himself as a kitty”, Crystal replies as they get close enough to see into the cave, “But in general, I agree. I don’t think this looks nice for anyone in particular.”

She’s right; it looks damp and overgrown with weed, not a place fit for a king, but maybe for a prisoner.

“You wait outside”, Charles tells them, because he can’t die anymore, and because he isn’t sure if he wants his new friends to see what he’ll become if faced with the Cat King now. “If I need help, I’ll shout for you.”

Maybe Crystal answers, maybe she doesn’t; Charles doesn’t wait to hear it, just pulls out his bat and barges into the cave, ready to knock the whiskers off the damned creature that has taken his best friend, the best person in the world.

Inside, the cave is cosy, carpeted, a large bed and a bar crammed into a corner; it’s magic, quite obviously.

And it’s empty.

Being back in London feels right, even if the hand in Edwin’s still feels wrong.

Not because Edwin doesn’t want to hold Charles hand – he finds, although he never would have considered it before, that the weight of Charles’ hand in his is comforting, the pressure of his fingers grounding, that the occasional tug makes his heart skip a metaphorical beat – but because even without feeling, he is constantly reminded of the state of them, the blood caked under Charles’ fingernails.

Almost, he raises their joined hands again to see if maybe, some of the bruises have healed, but when Edwin turns around, Charles is looking at him with such wonder, such care, such lingering pain, that it takes his breath away.

That look alone is like a stab, a full-body blow, and Edwin hates himself for having caused it, for thinking about his petty jealousies when Charles has been through six weeks of what must have been Hell.

“Charles”, he says softly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t even get to finish saying his name; before he does, Charles pulls him closer, into another hug, that feels almost as desperate as the one they shared back at the warehouse, kneeling on the ruined concrete floor.

“I thought I lost you”, Charles sobs into his shoulder, and the only thing Edwin can do is hold him. “I didn’t want to believe it for a second, but you were gone for so long and I thought- I didn’t think I’d ever be here again, I didn’t think I’d be here again with you, I didn’t-”

It makes Edwin think of what Crystal said an ocean away, that Charles didn’t want to leave the warehouse, not without Edwin, and there are tears in his eyes now, spilling over and impossible to stop, because Charles there on the warehouse floor, unmoving as the world changes around him, is the worst thing he has ever imagined.

He hugs him closer, and Charles buries his face in the crook of Edwin’s neck, hot tears spilling against Edwin’s skin and soaking into his blazer, changing the fabric in the most fundamental of fashions.

The girls find him eventually.

Charles isn’t certain how long he has been sitting there, but he isn’t sure he cares anymore, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know where he is, so he can’t save him, which means Edwin is somewhere out there, alone and lost and most likely hurt. And he must be waiting for Charles to come, because Charles has always come, Charles has promised him, again and again, that he would always come.

And now, Charles doesn’t know where to go.

He doesn’t know he’s crying until Crystal is crouching before him, dabbing at his cheeks with a crumpled tissue, and it’s like everything falls apart around him, beneath him, inside him, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

They eventually part, although Edwin isn’t sure he likes it; he’s not used to this kind of closeness, and yet it feels good to hold Charles, to comfort him.

It’s not like Charles goes far either, he keeps one of his poor, battered hands on Edwin’s wrist and drags him to their sofa, pulls him down until Charles can rest his feet on Edwin’s lap, their fingers still intertwined.

At first, it’s difficult to find somewhere to put his other hand, the one that is so used to holding books when he sits here, but Charles looks at him hopefully as he fidgets, until Edwin puts it down on top of Charles’ thin ankle, fingers snaking around to hold it.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened?”, Edwin asks after a few moments of silence – not uncomfortable, but heavy still – but Charles shakes his head almost immediately, dark curls bouncing.

“I’d rather not”, he says, and it sounds prim, almost rehearsed; it hurts in a new, novel way to think that Charles feels like he has to prepare answers when talking to him. “It wasn’t… pleasant. Do you wanna tell me how the Cat King kept you there for so long?”

His immediate response is no, he doesn’t want to tell Charles just what he had to do to appease the Cat King. There is an explanation ready on his lips, one he has rehearsed, back when there were lips on his throat, leaving imperceptible marks, but then he thinks of Charles’ hands, of his eyelashes clumped together with tears, and Charles deserves the truth, especially because there is so little else Edwin can give him.

“He asked for a kiss. Or rather, several”, he explains, then, because he isn’t certain how much Charles understood back then, on the warehouse floor, “For me, it was only a few hours, but wherever he took me, time must have been stretched there. It is the only explanation I can come up with.”

And he expects a chuckle, a smile, anything at all, but Charles’ eyes go dim again, go dull, and Edwin hates himself with renewed passion for causing it.

Charles isn’t sure how they end up in Niko’s room; he cannot remember walking, cannot remember teleporting either. But they do, and he is still crying, surrounded by pink and purple and bright yellow, and there are two sets of arms around him and they still don’t make him feel better.

He can’t remember the last time he cried, and he doesn’t think he ever cried like this before, not even with his father’s belt raining pain down on him. This is worse, because this is Edwin, and this is forever, and this is all his fault.

“Maybe the cat just didn’t know”, Crystal says softly, rubbing a hand along his back; for a brief moment, Charles wishes he could at least feel this. “Maybe their King doesn’t tell them much, I don’t think kings usually do. We’ll just keep looking. We’ll find someone who does.”

It’s meant to soothe, but it doesn’t; if anything it makes Charles cry harder, because who is left? He could go through the cats, one by one, and he will if necessary,, but if this one didn’t know, why should the next one be any better?

He doesn’t know how to answer, because any sound that comes from his lips is coated and drowned and swallowed by sobs, but he doesn’t have to, because Niko kisses the top of his head, and says, “You did mention a witch, maybe she knows? Maybe she has one of those crystal balls to look inside and find your friend!”

And she’s wrong, because Esther would never help them; and she’s right, because Charles has questions for her anyway.

A bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes quickly, thank God. Edwin isn’t sure what snuffed it out in the first place, but he swears not to make the same mistake a second time; his soul would not be able to take it.

He tries to keep the conversation light, only that so much of it seems to be caught up in everything that has happened.

It’s unusual, having to tread lightly around Charles, and Edwin hates it with a passion that surprises even himself. But it just feels so wrong, even more so than watching Crystal’s hand on Charles’ back, hearing her mention anecdotes from a life she wasn’t part of.

So, when he again almost asks Charles just how Crystal could have known about the cursed vending machine, he instead picks up the book lying on their side table and holds it up without even looking at the title.

“Do you want me to read you something?”, he asks, because back when they first met they occasionally did this, especially on winter nights whose cold they couldn’t feel, when Charles still remembered dying.

For a second, there is silence, Charles’ thumb brushing warm across the back of Edwin’s hand, and Edwin could live in this moment for the rest of his existence.

“The Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids?”, Charles asks, and there is a hint of his usual smile curling around his lips, a ghost of his normal teasing.

“I could get another book”, Edwin counters, and gives Charles a smile in hopes of getting a real one in return, “but I would have to get up to get it.”

And Charles is shaking his head immediately, and the smile on his lips grows into something Edwin almost recognises.

He reads the Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids to Charles for hours.

They get to E.

“Don’t do this”, Crystal repeats for the dozenth time, but Charles doesn’t slow down his steps, doesn’t even think about it. “Charles! Don’t do this. You remember the last time, she’s dangerous.”

“I know”, he answers, and he does. It’s just that it doesn’t matter. “That’s why she might have Edwin. Because she’s dangerous. Or she might at least know where he is. I can’t, Crystal.”

And he does stop, just for a second, turns around to see her and Niko trailing after him, Crystal obviously distressed, Niko most likely just confused. And he wants to care so much, but he just can’t.

Not when it’s Edwin.

“You stay out of this, Crys, please. But I can’t, not when it’s him. If there is any chance that Esther knows what that goddamned Cat King has done to Edwin, then I have to try. I have to.” He doesn’t expect Crystal to understand; they don’t know each other for long, it’s a miracle she’s even here still. “He’s my best friend. He would do the same for me.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then Crystal’s expression softens, like she might understand after all, and she nods.

“Alright”, she says, “Niko and I will stay around the corner and I’ll try to read her mind. But be careful, Charles. You won’t be much help to Edwin if you join him wherever he is.”

Night falls and they are still wrapped up into their cocoon of warmth on the couch, Charles’ hand by now a familiar weight in Edwin’s.

“I know you want to ask”, Charles says into the comfortable silence, and Edwin rejoices just for the pleasure of hearing his voice. “And I’ll tell you everything you wanna know, just… not now, okay? I want to enjoy having you back before I have to think about all that again.”

“Of course”, Edwin answers and he means it, understands it, too. He looks down at Charles’ hand in his and that is enough for now. “Whenever you are ready. There is no rush, we have the rest of forever to figure it out.”

Charles’ fingers twitch in his and it must be the light, but the knuckles look slightly less raw, less torn. Without thinking, Edwin lifts their hands to his lips and presses a kiss on the wounds, hoping that it won’t cause more pain.

It gets a response, at least, a sharp intake of breath, Charles’ fingers clenching around his, but when Edwin looks up at Charles, allowing their hands to drop once more, his eyes are wide and warm and a little alive.

“Doesn’t hurt”, Charles answers the question Edwin has yet to ask, but his voice sounds a little strangled still. “It’s just that you don’t usually do… any of this. I thought the hand holding would be almost too much, I just couldn’t let go.”

Because I need to make sure you’re really back, he doesn’t say, but Edwin hears it anyway. And the sentiment hurts, the thought that Charles thinks physical touch is a burden to him to the point of trying to let go of Edwin’s hand for his sake.

“I do not mind it in the slightest”, he declares, making sure to tighten the grip he has on Charles’ hand. “Not if it’s you.”

And Charles’ eyes widen once more, a spark in them igniting, and Edwin kisses his knuckles, one by one, vowing that he won’t let go until Charles can look at him without fear in his eyes.

“Esther!”, he yells before he has even reached the door, ready to barge in without knocking, even if Crystal has implored him to at least stay outside of Esther’s house. “If you don’t come out, I swear to God, I will come and find you and-”

“What?”, the door swings open and Esther is standing there, pipe at her lips as she regards Charles with a put upon kind of disinterest. “I heard you boys were still in town, but oh my God, can’t you let a woman cook up her revenge in peace? You boys are so annoying.”

If he was still alive, his teeth would splinter from how hard Charles is clenching them; his fingers are itching to grab the bat and just try and mash her face in.

“Do you know where Edwin is?”, he asks instead, because that’s more important than feeling her skull split apart again.

“Who’s Edwin?”, she drawls, taking a drag from her pipe and blowing the smoke into Charles’ face. “Is that the other one? I can’t keep up with you kids and your stupid little names.”

“That’s him, yeah”, Charles answers and God, he wants to smash her kneecaps in, he wants to beg her to help, he wants to storm past her and tear her house apart until he finds Edwin. “Do you know where he is?”

“You seem desperate”, Esther says, smirking, taking another drag from her pipe. “I like it. What’s it worth to ya?”

“Everything”, he replies, although he shouldn’t, because in the end, it’s the only answer he can give.

“Love that. Not for you, but for me.” Esther is sizing him up, obviously considering something Charles won’t like the least, and yet he knows that he will do it, no matter what it is she asks, if she can only tell him where to find Edwin. “It’s gonna cost you, and I mean, like, a lot.”

“I’ll pay it”, Charles answers without a second of hesitation, and Esther smirks in a way that should make him regret his words; it doesn’t. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

Sometimes, Edwin forgets how different they get to experience time; sometimes he's forcibly reminded of the fact. Because Crystal and Niko find them like this, wrapped up in each other.

Part of Edwin wants to tear himself away from Charles, although there is nothing untoward they are doing, but another, one he understands even less, wants to press closer, wants to kiss Charles' knuckles again and let the girls see.

"You made it!", Charles exclaims when he sees Crystal, voice sounding at least a fraction alive, and Edwin loves it, despises it at the same time. "How was the trip?"

They are dripping rain water on the floor, Edwin belatedly realises, but he decides against mentioning it anyway, less for their sake and more for Charles’.

“It was alright. Long, mostly”, Crystal answers, pushing a hand through her thick curls and sending a spray of water down onto their wooden floor. Edwin does his best not to notice it. “How are you? Is everything alright?”

The concern is palpable in her voice, almost a physical entity in the room, and Charles seems touched by it, his eyes softening and another sliver of a smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Edwin’s here”, he replies, like it explains everything, and Crystal nods, as if she agrees that it does.

Her gaze flickers over to Edwin for a second, then back to Charles, whose fingers clench around Edwin’s almost imperceptibly before he shakes his head, the motion so small Edwin almost misses it.

He’s about to ask what he is going on, but then Niko steps forward, spreading even more water on their floors, and Edwin is distracted by the bright teal of her coat, the white of her hair that wasn’t there before he was taken.

“You must be Edwin”, she says and holds out a hand that Edwin cannot take without letting go of Charles’. “Charles has told us so much about you.”

“That would be me, yes. I apologise, my hand is currently quite occupied”, Edwin answers, then raises their joined hands to help explain why he cannot shake Niko’s; an expression flits across Crystal’s face, too quick for Edwin to make sense of it, yet Charles seems to understand it easily.

It shouldn’t bother Edwin as much as it does.

“Ooh, that’s okay”, Niko says, and she sounds like she means it. Her eyes are wide and happy and suddenly, even without knowing much about her, Edwin is glad that she was with Charles when he was gone. “You should be holding Charles’ hand, that’s much more important. I completely understand.”

And silently, Edwin agrees.

Esther is grinning at him in a way that reminds Charles of the snake Edwin had found in her house, cold and dangerous and like he should be running from that smile.

Instead, he takes a step forward, and he would take another if Crystal wasn’t suddenly next to him, yanking him back.

“She doesn’t know a thing”, she half hisses, half shouts, her voice as deadly as Esther’s smile. “I read her thoughts and there is nothing in there. She just wants you to promise her that you’ll do what she asks, and then use you.”

Her grip is so strong Charles feels it through his clothes, through the barrier to physical touch that is death, and as she yanks him back, Charles feels the heart he doesn’t have break in his chest once more, because for a moment, he had had hope.

Esther cackles and Charles knows there are tears spilling down his cheeks, even if he cannot feel them.

“Well, it was worth a try”, she says, sounding like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter at all, and something in Charles just snaps.

Crystal’s hand on his shoulder still feels solid, but the cricket bat in his hand does even more so, especially when it connects with Esther’s still-smirking face.

While the girls go and dry off, Charles sinks back into the cushions, his eyes fluttering close. Almost, he could look relaxed, but Edwin can still see the tension in his body, like a spring curled tight and waiting for the lightest touch to set it off.

Edwin wants to soothe him, but he doesn’t know how to, especially not when there is still so much he doesn’t know about those six weeks.

He is trying to figure out a way how to ask, or at least hint at it, but then Charles opens his eyes again, and they are softer than they should be when Charles has been through so much.

“I think you’ll really like Niko”, he says, and he sounds wistful somehow; Edwin desperately wishes he knew why. “She’s pretty brills. Might have saved me once or twice.”

“Saved you? What from?”

Edwin imagines Esther and her giant snake and Hell and everything in between, but Charles’ eyes don’t change, neither does his voice.

“Myself, really.”

In the end, it takes both of the girls to pull him off Esther.

His whole body is aching from her iron cane in ways he had forgotten he could hurt, but the pain is distant, far away; the only thing that matters is that she had said she knew how to get Edwin back and she had given him a sliver of hope and then she had snuffed it out again.

Another thing that is far away: he is screaming, or crying, or both; two sets of hands drag him down the steps, and Charles knows he’s fighting them, because… because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And then he’s just crying.

Arms pull him close against a solid chest, fingers card through his hair, and there is nothing stopping the sobs wrecking through his body, so violently Charles feels them almost like he had felt the hits from Esther’s cane.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, crouched on the ground, but it is a long, long time.

When they come back, Niko hops onto the sofa’s backrest and Charles looks up at her with obvious affection.

“Do you need some band-aids for your hands?”, she asks, placing a little box on her knee. “I brought the Hello Kitty ones.”

The words make no sense to Edwin, but Charles nods, and Edwin hates how much he doesn’t know, hates that they ever had to spend time apart.

Charles twists and turns until he can put one of his bruised hands into Niko’s lap, who inspects it, before a bright, bright smile spreads across her face, like a sunflower opening to greet the morning.

“It looks better!”, Niko tells him, and she’s right; the knuckles are still red, but have scabbed over, the cuts are a little less prominent against Charles’ warm skin.

“Does it?”, Charles asks, and sits up straighter to see for himself. “I guess your dad was right, then.”

“I told you.” Niko is pulling a pastel pink band-aid from her box, unwrapping it before placing it gently across one of the deeper scratches on the back of Charles’ hand. It covers only half of it, if even.

“Charles”, Edwin starts before he can stop himself, “what is the purpose of this? Those patches won’t make your wounds heal any faster.”

It takes a moment, but then Charles turns to look at him; it’s a silly thought, but it almost feels like Edwin has missed his eyes on him.

“They won’t”, Charles agrees, and his lips are curved into an almost-smile. “But it will make them heal better.”

Charles cannot remember how they get back to the butcher shop, but they do, because Charles ends up sitting on Niko’s bed, while she rummages through her night stand.

He isn’t certain what she is looking for, but she finds it with a little ah!, and returns to the bed with a box in her hand. It’s metal, dented and scratched in a way that shows it has been loved; she opens it and there are dozens of colourful band-aids inside, waiting to patch someone up again.

“Now, I don’t know Edwin”, she says in a strange cadence, like she is trying to figure out what to say while speaking.”But if you love him so much, then I don’t think he would like you to be hurt. And since he isn’t here to make it better, I will try.”

The words make Charles’ eyes sting with tears once more, because Niko is right, Edwin wouldn’t want him to hurt; because she is right, Edwin isn’t here.

“Ghosts don’t-”, he starts, because if he doesn’t talk, he’ll start crying again, “Our wounds heal differently. Those band-aids won’t make them heal faster.”

Niko stills for a moment, then takes one of his hands in hers, which is scratched from Esther’s cane. The wounds won’t last more than a day, Charles knows it, but Niko still touches his hand with so much care, as if she thinks she could hurt him.

“My dad used to put band-aids on my knees when I fell from my bike”, she tells him as if it’s an answer to a question Charles hasn’t asked; maybe it is. “And he always said that even if that wouldn’t make the scrapes heal faster, it would make them heal better.”

And Niko looks up at him, her fingers cradling his hand like she thinks he can still feel it.

“Do you want a pink or a green one?”

“Pink”, Charles says, and doesn’t bother to blink the tears away this time.

Niko covers Charles’ hands in band-aids until she runs out of them, Charles’ wounds too numerous for what her little chest holds. They feel strange against Edwin’s palm when Charles switches the hand he is holding Edwin’s with halfway through, the plastic so different to Charles’ skin.

He watches the exchange and it tugs at his heart in ways he doesn’t understand; it hurts and it heals, because at least Charles had someone to put little plastic patches over his wounds, even if how familiar both of them are with the process means that there must have been far more wounds than Edwin was aware of.

At the very end of it, Niko places a kiss on Charles’ knuckles and Edwin’s lips ache in jealousy.

“Thank you”, Charles tells her, and she nods, bright and happy, before she starts sliding off the backrest.

She stops, though, and cocks her head as she looks at Edwin.

“The kiss makes the wounds heal even better”, she says, like imparting a secret, and then, she’s gone.

“You can’t keep doing this”, Crystal tells him the second they are alone, in a voice that allows no objections; Charles knows he will object anyway. “Charles, I know you cannot die a second time, but you cannot keep doing this. Esther hurt you and we had to watch and I just. I can’t do that again. I know he’s your best friend, but you’re running yourself into the ground with this and I don’t know if I can watch it happen.”

She looks like she means it and Charles wants to help, but if there is one thing he cannot give her, it’s this.

“I can’t”, he answers, and looks down onto his hands, peppered with brightly-coloured band-aids someone who cares about him put there, up at Crystal who saved him from being bound to a witch’s whim, and yet it all pales in comparison to the gaping hole in his chest where Edwin’s presence usually lingers. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t stop, not as long as he’s still gone.”

He wants to tell her about how Edwin would do the same for him, about how he has saved Edwin from a hundred monsters and will save him from a thousand more, about how he isn’t sure if he can continue existing without Edwin at his side.

But he doesn’t get to, because Crystal takes a deep breath, and asks, “What if he’s not trying to come back?”

The question shocks Charles into silence, but Crystal continues talking anyway, words blurring into each other with how fast she is speaking.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much you care for him, but maybe he just left. Maybe that is why we can’t find him anywhere, why the cats couldn’t tell you anything either. Because he doesn’t want to be found.”

And it’s-

It’s the most ludicrous thing Charles has ever heard in the fifty-odd years he has spent on this Earth.

“No”, he tells Crystal, “No, you’re wrong. And not because I couldn’t bear it although I really, really couldn’t, but… that’s not how we are, Crystal. He wouldn’t leave. Never. If there is anything in the world I know for certain, it’s that Edwin wouldn’t leave. And that means he’s out there somewhere and he is hurt or captured, and he is waiting for me to come and get him. And I will, Crystal, no matter what happens, I will.”

There’s nowhere in the agency for the girls to sleep, so they set out to find a hotel, and Edwin breathes a sigh of relief, even if he hates himself for it only moments later.

He shouldn’t be so jealous of Charles’ attention, his affection, especially not when Crystal and Niko have stuck with him for six horrifying weeks, and Edwin should be nothing but grateful to them for taking care of the best, the most important person in existence instead of him.

But the door closes behind them, and it’s just Charles and him once more, and Edwin is weak, is possessive and greedy and looks down at Charles’s hand in his, and thinks that at least one thing is right in the world.

“Alright”, Charles says and turns to look at Edwin. “You can ask me. Not about everything all at once, maybe, but you can ask me.”

It should take him at least a second to understand what Charles is talking about, but it doesn’t; Charles says you can ask me, and there’s a thousand questions swarming through his head immediately, begging to be spoken aloud.

He nods, but before he can decide on any one thing to ask, he takes Charles back to the sofa and makes him sit down, their hands still loosely joined between them.

Touch is something Charles has always needed, but now, with Charles so hurt, so vulnerable, Edwin realises that he needs it almost as much.

There are so many things he wants to know that it feels impossible to settle on one thing, at least to start with, until suddenly, there’s a question that blazes through his mind so painfully that Edwin speaks it out-loud before he has a moment to reconsider.

“Did you ever doubt I would come back?”, he asks, then corrects himself, “No, did you ever doubt that I wanted to come back?”

He tells himself that he’ll accept any answer Charles will give him and it’s the truth; another truth: if Charles ever doubted that the only place Edwin wants to be is at his side, it will shatter his heart to pieces.

“Of course not”, Charles says, not missing a beat, and Edwin gets to keep his heart after all. His voice is soft and his eyes are, too, even if their light is still dimmed. “I’d never doubt that. It’s you and me against the world, isn’t it?”

Edwin nods, and there are tears in his eyes he does not deserve to cry.

“Thank you”, he says, unsure what he is thanking Charles for: for still being here, for believing in Edwin, in the strength of their friendship, for enduring all of it. “I know it must have been Hell, because that’s what it would have been had the roles been reversed, but something must have happened, because your hands…”

Without wanting to, he looks down at Charles’ fingers, wrapped in bright plastic, his own woven between them, pristine because he allowed the most important person in existence to go through this alone.

“I’m not really sure”, Charles replies, and when Edwin looks up again, it’s Charles who is staring at their joined hands. “To be honest, I didn’t really stop to think about it. We found out about this other dimension the Cat King uses to escape, and I just went mental, didn’t I? Started trashing the warehouse completely, and when my bat broke, well. I just used my hands. I guess they’re not as sturdy.”

He tries for a smile, and it rips Edwin’s heart to pieces.

“You-”, he starts, but doesn’t get the words out, because the thought is too much to bear, the images of Charles ripping his fingers to shreds to find him too vivid.

“Had to get you back somehow, didn’t I?”, Charles asks, answers, still smiling, and Edwin cannot take a second more, so instead, he pulls Charles against his chest and hugs him so tightly he knows that, if he had any bones left, he’d feel them creak.

Maybe he should be discouraged, maybe it should be difficult to go back out and start looking for Edwin all over again, but it isn’t.

What would be difficult is sitting down and waiting; what would be impossible is to let Edwin stay wherever he is being kept.

So, he walks.

Past meadows and across streams, up hillsides and then looks down into the valleys and still finds nothing, nothing at all. It’s maddening, it’s the worst thing he has ever felt, because the scenery is beautiful, the days long and the sun bright, and Charles feels like he is dragging himself through barbed wire and broken glass.

When he gets Edwin back, he’ll never let him out of his sight again, he swears when he walks up to the lighthouse once more, for the fifteenth or five hundredth time, sparing a look at the ghosts sitting there, watching the water. He’ll keep him close, keep him in his sight, keep one hand in Edwin’s, no matter if he likes it or not, for the rest of eternity, just to make sure he won’t stray too far.

It becomes a thing between them when they are alone.

Charles will look at him and say, one question, or three questions, and Edwin will go through his mental catalogue of them, realising how much he hates that there is anything about Charles he does not know all over again, every single time.

How long did you wait in the warehouse at first?, he asks, and Charles says, days. Crystal had to force me to leave it for the first time.

Why is Niko’s hair white now?, he asks another time when they sitting on the roof, the sounds of the city dulled down to a gentle buzz. Oh, that was mental, actually, Charles answers, and launches into a story about gnomes crawling from her mouth, and Edwin sits there and watches him, and wishes Charles would tell the story like he would have two months ago, animated and excited about it, instead of matter-of-factly.

How long would you have stayed on that floor?, he asks, and doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer this time, only knows he has to. And Charles looks at him strangely, fondly, sadly, and says, forever, mate.

Crystal catches up with him at the warehouse again, where he is pacing on the horrible, hated concrete floor, thinking about battering it open and seeing if he can find Edwin between the pieces. She’s been looking at him more often now, so openly worried Charles sometimes finds it difficult to hold her gaze, but there is nothing to be done about it, is there?

It’s the same way she is looking at him now, forehead furrowed and her dark eyes on him feeling like they are taking Charles apart, piece for piece, thought for thought.

“What are you looking for?”, she asks like she doesn’t know it, like the answer has ever changed.

He doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how to say Edwin’s name without breaking into tears, because if he says his name, he might not stop anytime soon.

“Charles”, she tries again and it stops his feet mid-step, “Charles, what if you don’t find him? What if he never comes back?”

It’s words that never should be spoken, because they cannot be allowed to be true, and Charles closes his eyes, just to save himself from the look in Crystal’s eyes.

“I’ve been to Tragic Mick’s shop and I asked him about ghosts and their wandering, because you are scaring me”, she continues, “and he told me that the only ghosts who wander are those that killed themselves. And that scared me even more.”

And Charles wants to shake his head and tell her she’s wrong, but it feels like that somehow; like half of him died and he is doing everything he can to follow.

Niko comes to change Charles’ band-aids and Edwin doesn’t think about it much, just watches her take out the box and tell Charles about the characters depicted on them. The wounds themselves have healed slightly, and even if no one knows why, Edwin breathes a sigh of relief at the discovery.

He expects Niko to let Charles choose a colour again, like she has done before, but instead she turns to him, who is just there because Charles is still holding his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“I think you should choose the colour this time”, Niko tells him, holding out a hand with three different band-aids in it, three different colours, three different patterns.

“It’s not my hands, though”, Edwin protests, but Niko just shoves her hand closer.

“No”, she agrees, “but they’re your wounds, too.”

And Edwin glances at Charles, who, for once, isn’t looking back, takes in the sharp cut of his jaw and the dullness of his eyes, thinks of his bleeding knuckles and broken nails, and knows she is right.

“This one, then”, he says, and leaves the green one, covered with leaves, the yellow one, covered with stars, and picks up the red one, covered in hearts.

The thought doesn’t appear gradually, it rips through him one day when he is walking through the library, forgetting to avoid the bookcases and just phasing through them instead.

Two days before, Niko, in a futile hope to console him, had put a hand on his shoulder and given it a squeeze.

“If he has come back from Hell, then I’m sure he’ll come back from where he is now. Especially if he knows you are waiting for him”, she had said, and back then, Charles had just tried giving her a smile, not thinking anything of the comment.

But now, it’s like a bolt from the heavens, a thought so devastating it leaves him gasping in the middle of the room, clutching at his chest like he still had a heart to calm.

He knows little to nothing about the Cat King, because in the end, Edwin had always been the brains of their operation, the one with the encyclopedic knowledge of anything supernatural, but something he knows intimately are Edwin’s stories about Hell.

Most of them, he has heard at least a dozen times, and even if that is not enough to imagine the horrors there, it’s enough to know that the entities there use souls like bargaining chips.

Edwin had told him before that he had been traded from demon to demon, and back then, in the comfort of their agency, Charles had shivered and put a hand on Edwin’s shoulder in lieu of pulling him against his chest, tucking Edwin’s head under his chin and never letting him go again.

Now, a picture forms in his mind that is so terrifying Charles feels like screaming, and Edwin is not here, so Charles will claw him from the mouth of Hell itself this time.

“Charles, could I borrow Edwin for a second?”, Crystal asks one evening, and Charles’ fingers tense around his own.

It’s a strange phenomenon that has only increased with time; occasionally, Edwin thinks he can almost feel Charles’ touch, not as just resistance, but like he used to when he was still alive.

“It won’t be long and I’ll bring him back, I promise”, she adds, not even bothering to ask Edwin, just assuming he will follow her.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles eventually answers, even if a second too late, and slowly, ever so slowly, untangles their fingers from where their hands had been resting between them. It’s the first time since Edwin has come back that they are not touching, and Edwin feels the loss of it immediately, his fingers itching to find Charles’ once more.

For now, though, he only gives Charles a smile before he follows Crystal outside, where she stops immediately.

Her expression is one Edwin cannot decipher, anger lingering behind her eyes, but almost concealed by something much greater, much more important.

“Do you have any idea how much Charles loves you?”, she asks, and the anger is there in her voice, the other thing is, too. “I know I asked you before and you said yes, but I don’t think you do. And I think you need to.”

“I am perfectly aware-”, Edwin starts, but he doesn’t get far.

“You are not”, Crystal interrupts him and she sounds so certain that Edwin feels helpless hearing it, because even if he doesn’t believe her, there are things now that she knows about Charles and he doesn’t. “I watched that boy beat up a witch that almost took out all three of us, because she had lied about knowing where you were, and the only reason he didn’t bash her immortal head in was because Niko and I pulled him off of her. He was willing to sell his soul to her just to get you back. To a demon, too. He nearly ripped off his own fingers trying to reach you, because he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

She pauses for a moment and Edwin can’t speak, can hardly think, his brain trying to sort through the information and failing, because it hurts too much.

“I thought he was going to die, Edwin. Cease existing. Whatever”, she continues, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and the anger is still there, and Edwin understands it now, deserves it. “I went to see him every day at that warehouse after he had just sat down and accepted his fate and every day I expected him to just not be there anymore. That’s how much he loves you, I thought he was going to disappear just because you had, too. He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone.”

“Crystal…”

“If you hurt him, I’m going to make you regret you were ever born”, she finishes, and Edwin believes her without reservations, “and the only reason I won’t kill you a second time is because I know it would kill Charles, too.”

It’s not easy to get Crystal to tell him where David is, but Charles manages anyway.

The roller-skating rink is dark and dirty, the concrete floor too close to the one in the warehouse for Charles not to shiver when seeing it for the first time. But it doesn’t matter, isn’t allowed to matter, because crouched in the corner is a human figure with shaggy hair and a too-large fur coat, and Charles wants to rip him apart for Crystal, wants to beg him to help for Edwin.

“Oi!”, he yells out and David scatters in a way that reminds Charles of a bug of some kind. “You remember me, yeah?”

“What do you want?”, David spits back, pressed against the wall and trying to look like he wouldn’t flee if Charles gave him an opportunity to do so. “Haven’t you ruined enough?”

“Didn’t ruin a thing”, Charles replies, but there’s no fire to it, because in the end, as much as he hates it, he needs the bastard’s help. “I need you to send me to Hell.”

If he wasn’t so desperate, if there wasn’t a constant loop of torture behind his eyes whenever he blinked, showing him thousands of ways that Edwin could be torn apart this second, he would try to find a better, a more subtle way of putting it, but there is, and Charles has long since stopped caring.

He hasn’t seen Edwin in more than three weeks and if his best friend in the world, the one person who never deserved to go to Hell, spent three weeks there because Charles was too stupid to put the pieces together, he will never forgive himself for it.

“What?”, David asks, and Charles has no time for this, for any of it.

“Hell. I need you to send me to Hell, because my friend might be there and I need to find him”, he repeats, and it takes a moment, but then David laughs, an ugly, rough sound.

“You want to go to Hell”, he repeats, like Charles hasn’t said so twice already. “Voluntarily.”

“Yes.” Charles closes his eyes for a second, wishing that the deep breaths he used to ask Edwin to take would still have the same effects on him as they did when he was still alive. “You don’t need to understand it, you just have to send me there. I’ll sell you my soul or whatever it is you do, I don’t care. I just need to get to Hell as quickly as possible.”

David still looks like he wants to laugh, but this time, he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step forward, raising his hands as if he was trying to placate Charles, a smile on his lips that Charles wants to knock off.

“Alright, alright”, he says, and Charles hates him and hates the Cat King and hates himself for letting it come to this. But it will be worth it, anything would be worth it if it brought Edwin back. He’ll figure out what to do about his own soul later. “I’ll get you to Hell, absolutely. But it sounds like you’re desperate, so I might need a bit more than just your soul to make it happen.”

“No.” He thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, all safe, all oblivious, hopes they’ll forgive him. “You’ll get my soul, and that’s it.”

David pretends to think about it, but Charles has dealt with enough demons to know he will accept; they are greedy creatures after all, and a soul is a soul is a soul.

“Okay”, he says at last, and still, Charles feels relief wash through him. Just hold on a little bit longer, Edwin. I’m coming. “I’ll take your soul. And I’ll send you to Hell. But I’ll choose the Circle.”

“Sure, whatever”, Charles replies and the smirk that David gives him should scare him, but he’s far past scaring. “I’ll find him no matter what.”

Crystal’s words echo in Edwin’s head when they return to the agency and Edwin slots back into the spot next to Charles, their fingers intertwining naturally.

He knows Charles loves him, of course he does. Has known it for thirty years and has it carved so deeply, so prominently into his heart that he’ll never forget it, yet something about Crystal’s words makes that knowledge scream in his chest when Charles looks at him, a little bit of his usual brightness returning to his eyes as soon as they touch.

It’s not frightening, that knowledge, but it’s not comforting either.

It’s just there, beating in his chest like a heart might, asking if Edwin feels the same.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Edwin answers.

Yes.

“Oh, you fucking won’t”, rings out Crystal’s voice just before Charles’ hand touches David’s, and for a moment, Charles hates her.

Then someone grips his shoulder and flings him backwards, and Crystal is standing there, breathing heavily, a cleaver in her hand, and for another moment, Charles loves her.

“You won’t fucking touch him”, she hisses, and David laughs, the sound just as rough, just as ugly.

“He came here by himself”, he tells her, grinning still. “He asked me to take his soul. He begged me to do it.”

“Well, the offer has been rescinded. And you better go wherever the fuck you came from, before I send you back there myself.”

“Crystal, I need him to-”, Charles starts, desperate, but he never gets to finish the sentence, because Crystal turns her head to look at him, and her eyes are blazing like fire, before they go white.

“No one needs him for anything”, she tells him and her voice is distant and emotionless and powerful, echoing in the empty space like it is made of a hundred women speaking.

And Crystal reaches out and puts a hand on the centre of David’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happens, then he is being flung back against the wall with an invisible force, kept there suspended.

“You won’t touch him again”, Crystal says and the other voices still echo within hers, leaving Charles breathless and awed and despondent. “And you won’t touch me either. Otherwise I’ll bury you so deep you’ll be begging me to send you back to Hell instead.”

And she lets him go; when she turns back to Charles, there’s a small pouch in her hand.

“Crystal said you almost sold your soul to a demon”, Edwin starts the next time Charles allows him a question.

Everything Crystal had told him has stuck with him, but this he had only realised much later, and it had scared him like hardly anything else had before.

Charles just nods, this time doesn’t even try for a smile, and Edwin is glad for it; he’s not sure if he could take it.

“I didn’t really think I had a choice”, he adds after a few moments, like it makes it better. “I thought the Cat King might have sold you to some kind of demon and that was why I couldn’t find you anywhere. And the idea of you, stuck down there… I couldn’t take it.”

“But there was no proof, there can’t even have been any indication that…”

“No, there wasn’t”, Charles replies and this time, he does smile, and the sight is as torturous as Edwin knew it was going to be. “But I had to make sure. No version of you getting dragged to Hell where I don’t come and get you, is there?”

His fingers, adorned with less band-aids than there were before, squeeze Edwin’s and for a moment, they almost feel warm, real.

And Edwin blinks back tears and thinks of Crystal saying, he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, and squeezes back.

“How am I supposed to get Edwin back now, Crystal?”, Charles sobs, the words coming out drowned in tears and desolation. “What if he’s in Hell and I can’t get him back?”

He’s on the floor of the roller-skating rink, David’s collapsed form just metres away, and Charles should move in case he wakes up again, but he can’t. His limbs are not moving, his thoughts spiralling, because the only thing that counts is that Edwin might be trapped in some kind of torture chamber in the one place Charles cannot reach.

Two familiar hands pull him up and into a hug that Charles cannot reciprocate, shaking too violently with the intensity of his sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Charles”, Crystal mutters into his shoulder, and she sounds shaken, sounds almost in tears. “Have you ever stopped for a second and thought what would happen if Edwin came back and you were in Hell?”

“Now that we’re all back, do you guys want to get back into detecting?”, Crystal asks them, and Charles flinches almost imperceptibly, before forcing a smile onto his pretty lips.

This time, at least, looking at it is a little less painful.

“Yeah, of course”, Charles says, “but maybe not right away. Unless Edwin…”

“No, I think a bit of a break would do us some good”, Edwin tells him before Charles can even finish the sentence. “Maybe once Charles’ hands have healed. We have no reason to rush it, do we?”

And watches as a little bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes.

It’s later, although Charles cannot tell exactly how much.

Crystal had to half-carry him out of the roller-skating rink, where they had both collapsed on the ground, unable or unwilling to move.

With time, Charles’ sobs had dried up, even though it feels like he has an ocean of them still stored inside his chest, lapping at his unbeating heart like waves. But Crystal had been right, he doesn’t know if Edwin is in Hell, just fears it more than anything else in this world.

“Charles?”, Crystal asks into the night air, sounding pensive, drained.

“Yeah?”

“I know you and Edwin are best friends, but that can’t be all that there is to it. Not with how you’ve been in the past weeks. What’s going on?”

It’s not the question he expected, it’s not even one he has ever asked himself before, but there is exhaustion so deep in his bones, paired with despair he didn’t know he could even feel, and Charles knows that Crystal deserves an answer.

So, he looks inside, pictures Edwin, his little smug smile when he wins at Clue and the elegance of his gestures and the way his voice softens when he knows Charles needs reassurance.

He thinks of Edwin, bathed in the light of the morning sun, and illuminated by the stars, thinks of Edwin’s wit and his brilliance and how easily he gets annoyed at period dramas on TV when their costumes aren’t historically accurate. Thinks of Edwin reading him to sleep when he was dying and reading him poetry afterwards when he found out that Charles had never truly liked a poem, and how Edwin’s voice had almost made him cry when he had recited Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale.

Thinks about how when he’s sad, it’s Edwin he wants to talk to, and when he’s happy, it’s the same thing, the same intensity.

Thinks about how no one has ever known him like this, inside and out, with all his flaws and imperfections and silly little quirks, and how Edwin does and still wants to keep him; how Charles knows just as much about him and feels the same.

Thinks about how it’s impossible to imagine a world without him in it, and how Charles never even wants to try doing so.

Thinks of Edwin and how he is the best, the brightest, the most important part of his existence.

“I love him”, he finally answers, and he’s choking on the words because they are true and yet he hasn’t known until a second ago. “Crystal, I love him. I love him so much and I never even got to tell him.”

And he’s crying again, just as hard as before, and Crystal reaches out and holds him until it’s morning again.

“Crystal and I found the vending machine”, Niko tells them the next day when the girls arrive around noon. She’s skipping, obviously excited as she sits down between them, completely ignoring that it means they have to rearrange their intertwined hands. “The one that was haunted. It was so cool, I got an orange soda out of it.”

She’s unpacking her band-aids, although nowadays, Charles doesn’t need many of them anymore, setting them out as a surgeon would their instruments, and no matter how charming Edwin finds her, the reminder that the girls know of the vending machine still makes something in Edwin’s chest clench uncomfortably.

“That’s great”, Charles says and maybe there is a little bit more light in his eyes than there was yesterday. He plucks a band-aid from Niko’s lap and hands it to her. “This one today, please.”

And it really isn’t great at all, but Edwin doesn’t know how to formulate the fact into a sentence that doesn’t sound like complete lunacy.

“And this one”, he says instead, and grabs a random band-aid too, just so he won’t make a fool of himself.

It’s the first time he has participated in the little ritual by his own volition and Niko smiles at him, almost a reward, before taking a look at the plaster he picked.

“That’s nice”, she tells him, and puts it down next to Charles’ choice for later use. “And really fitting. They’re in love in the anime.”

Charles’ hand twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else until Niko is finished.

“There is one more thing”, Crystal tells him as they are walking back to the butcher shop, after she has explained the power of her ancestors she has just discovered to him, or at least tried to. “When I was in David’s mind, I could see… something in the warehouse. Somewhere he thought about escaping to. I think it’s something like a little pocket dimension, if that makes sense. Maybe Edwin is in there.”

That night, Charles gives him another question, and Edwin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.

“When did you tell Crystal and Niko about the Case of the Haunted Vending Machine of 2002?”

Charles looks surprised, and Edwin cannot blame him; it is such an inconsequential thing to ask when is so much else Edwin doesn’t know yet, but then his eyes soften a little, and there is a spark in his eyes that Edwin has missed dearly.

“I’m not entirely sure”, he says, and it makes Edwin feel a little better to know that: at least to Charles, it wasn’t an occasion that mattered. “But they asked about you sometime, especially Niko, after she could see me. About why I wanted to find you so badly, about how our life was like before we came to Port Townsend. And I thought the easiest thing was to just tell them about cases. And you were brilliant in the vending machine one.”

He smiles and for the first time since he got back, Edwin doesn’t have to suppress a flinch; it almost looks like the smile he is used to.

“So were you”, Edwin replies without thinking, and means it, too. His fingers tighten a little around Charles’ and he could swear he can feel skin against skin, flesh against flesh.

“We were pretty brilliant together.”

“We were”, Edwin replies and wants to pull Charles closer, wants to never let him go again, “And we still are.”

This time, Crystal doesn’t even try to stop him.

Charles walks into the warehouse, cricket bat in hand, vowing then and there that he won’t leave until he has found this pocket dimension, no matter what or where it is.

He starts with whatever is left of the furniture, smashing it to pieces and ripping those apart until they’re nothing more than splinters. The palettes strewn about are next, nails flying as Charles pulls the boards apart and leaves them scattered on the ground.

Then, the walls, tearing down the panelling, until the metal is bare and covered in dents and scratches and holes where his bat bust through the rust. He rips out the light fixtures and grinds them to dust under his loafers, shreds the nets hanging between the beams and leaves their tattered remains wherever he happens to be standing.

Finally, the floor itself, because if he has to dig down to Hell with his nails and teeth, he will.

The concrete cracks under the barrage of hits he rains down onto it, magic putting more force into the blows than his spectral muscles could, until the ground looks like a meteor hit.

It turns out to be too much for his bat, which splinters just like the palettes, the pillars, the concrete did, so Charles throws it away and uses his hands instead, shovelling away gravel and debris and chipped wood, digging deep into the ground until it, and Edwin, are the only things he can still think about.

Somewhere in between, his hands start bleeding, his nails cracking and ripping down to the flesh, but Charles pays them no mind, even as pain radiates up his arms with every punch, every blow, every cut.

It feels like the scratch of a cat’s claw, just a hundredfold, and it hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

“Why is this so important to you? All the questions, I mean. I know Crystal told you the gist of what happened during that time”, Charles asks after he has answered another one of Edwin’s queries. He looks relaxed, his head pillowed on Edwin’s lap, and when he looks up at him, Edwin knows he could count the lashes around his deep, dark eyes.

They’re less dull nowadays, but still don’t hold that one spark that Edwin misses the most of all.

“It’s silly”, he confesses, not because he wants to, but because Charles has shared so much with him that he deserves to have at least one question of his own answered truthfully. “It’s just that for decades, all of your memories were mine as well. And those six weeks… I wish I could change them, I wish you didn’t have to endure them, I wish I could take all of it away, so please, don’t think that this matters more to me than that.”

He takes a deep breath, something that he had forgotten about in Hell, something that Charles had showed him once more after they had met, something that now will always be Charles to him.

“Suddenly, there are six weeks in the middle of your existence, and I wasn’t part of a second of them. And I hate that, much more than I should.”

For a few, long moments, there is no answer, just Charles’ eyes on him, just his fingers brushing across Edwin’s knuckles.

“Edwin, you were there for every second of it”, Charles finally answers, and his eyes are still not as bright as they used to be, but they’re bright anyway. “You were at the heart of everything. I missed you in every single moment.”

His hands are bruised and bloody, some of his nails missing, the others torn down until they are little more than gaping wounds, as Charles tears another piece of concrete from the floor.

He has looked everywhere and Edwin isn’t here and it is a constant refrain in his head; he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here.

Occasionally, there’s tears mixing with the blood, but Charles doesn’t pay them any mind either.

On the third day, Crystal finds him, covered in dust and grime and blood and splinter of what might be wood or bone or whatever is left of his ruined heart.

She breathes out his name and it’s a sob; when he looks up at her, it takes a second until he recognises her.

“You can’t continue like this”, she says, and there are tears in his eyes, on her cheeks, dripping down her chin. “Edwin wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this and I can’t watch it any longer. It’s been almost a month, Charles, you won’t find him like this.”

It takes a moment or two until he finds the words, remembers how to speak, and when he does, he knows he’s crying, too.

“But what else is there left I can do?”, he asks, and Crystal chokes on her tears, before she reaches out and pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t know, Charles. I wish I did.”

“Your hands are almost fine again”, Edwin remarks and lifts the one he is holding up to inspect it. There are just two band-aids left, one around his ring finger, one on the back of Charles’ hand, green and yellow respectively.

“I know”, Charles answers, lifting the other one, a single frog-themed plaster around his thumb. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

And Edwin looks at him, his almost-perfect smile, the slope of his nose and the dark brown of his eyes; he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal says in his mind.

“Yes”, he replies, “it really is.”

“Come with me”, Crystal pleads, trying to pull him up from where he is sitting on the ground, between broken pieces of concrete and wood.

“I can’t”, Charles says, and knows it is true. His limbs won’t move, his body refusing Crystal’s attempt to lift him up; he won’t leave without Edwin at his side.

“You have to”, Crystal replies, and Charles wishes he could reach up and brush the tears from her cheeks. “You can’t stay here. Not like this.”

“You don’t understand, Crystal”, he says, and maybe he is crying, maybe he has forgotten how to do even that. “I can’t leave. If he isn’t here, then nothing matters. I cannot pass on, because there’s no Heaven if Edwin’s not in it. And I could stop existing, maybe, but if I do and he comes back, then he’ll be alone. So, if I can’t find him, if I can’t bring him back, then I’ll just… stay. And I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”

Even though Charles, who used to flit between places like breathing, seems most content inside the agency these days, Edwin drags him up to the roof, because the weather is lovely and Edwin wants to see the sun on Charles’ skin, reflected in his eyes.

He seems different today, distracted, but he gives Edwin a small, almost-right smile when they sit down on the ledge, looking down over the city.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to ask a question today”, Charles says after a few seconds, but he sounds far away, almost distracted. “I know you like them. It’s just. There is one thing that I don’t think you how to ask about and that you should know. So I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Something about his words makes Edwin’s metaphorical heart beat faster, makes him look at Charles and notice everything at once: the way he clenches his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows, how his tongue darts out to wet lips that don’t get dry any longer.

He looks nervous, and Edwin hates it, because there is nothing Charles could say that would make Edwin care for him any less.

“You can tell me anything, Charles.”

“I know”, Charles replies and gives Edwin the smallest of smiles. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

For a long time, there is nothing, then Charles shakes his head slightly, a tick Edwin knows so intimately it almost pains him.

“You see”, he starts, “when you were gone, I found something out about myself. About you, too. I’m not sure if I would have otherwise, at least not now. And I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t, and now that you’re back it’s suddenly so difficult, because you’re here and I know it won’t change anything, not between us, but it will change something for me, anyway.”

He lifts their joined hands, the single band-aid stark against his skin, and smiles; for a moment, Edwin forgets that he doesn’t understand what Charles is talking about, because there is something so fond, so sweet, so devastating about the look in his eyes.

“I love you”, he says, and Edwin’s metaphorical heart stops, speeds up, swells until it is straining against his ribs, “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m in love with you, Edwin. And I thought I might never be able to tell you, so I’m doing it now.”

And he looks over at Edwin and for the first time since he had launched himself into his side in that godforsaken warehouse, Charles smiles at him and it’s the smile Edwin missed the entire time, every bit of sunlight in the universe bundled into his eyes, into the curve of his lips.

“You don’t have to feel the same. I don’t expect you to”, Charles says, and his voice is trembling, but he sounds happy nonetheless, sounds content. “I just needed you to know that you’re loved in every way there is.”

A beat, a second, another one, and Edwin looks at Charles and it’s like he is seeing him for the very first time, at the same time like he has never seen anything else in his entire existence.

He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal’s words echo in his mind, and she was right all along, and Edwin…

“I love you, too”, he says without thinking about it, because he doesn’t have to, he has known this for years, decades, maybe forever.

“I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling; he’s so beautiful Edwin wants to break down and thank the fates that he was sacrificed, that he was dragged to Hell and escaped it, that he is allowed to be here, holding hands with the best, the most important, the most beautiful boy in the world.

“No, Charles. I’m in love with you.”

And another beat, another second, and Charles’ eyes go wide, the sun behind them goes supernova, and Edwin can’t believe he ever looked at him and didn’t know he wanted to kiss those lips.

“Oh”, Charles breathes out and he sounds overwhelmed, sounds almost bashful. “That’s… that’s brills, innit?”

“Yes. It is.”

There is a pause, because something shifts between them; it doesn’t change, because it was always there, even without them knowing, so instead, it blossoms and blooms and grows into something so delicate, so resilient, so beautiful that Edwin finds himself smiling, almost laughing, almost crying.

“Can you just kiss me, please?”, he asks, love and happiness and devotion woven into every syllable.

And Charles nods, eyes brighter than Edwin has ever seen them before, and there is a second of hesitation, but then he leans in and kisses Edwin, and this time, there’s no mistaking it; there’s lips pressed against his, warm and soft and sweet, and Edwin can feel them just as if he was alive.

“I love you”, he whispers against Charles lips, and Charles laughs, before pressing closer still, kissing him again and again until Edwin’s head is swimming with it, his lips wet and swollen and his cheeks wet with the happiest tears he has ever cried.

“I love you”, Charles whispers back, and he’s smiling.

And he kisses him again.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i am sooo glad i got this finished before the holiday #because i would have hated to explain to my friends that no unfortunately i wouldn't be able to go to a bar i needed to write gay boy angst #anyway i hope you guys like it!!!!!!

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whalesforhands · 9 months

Text

of public transport and amusement parks

summary: gojo satoru has been sheltered his whole life, never having seen the amenities available to the general populace until his first year of highschool. (ft.first year!sashisu)

The turnstiles clatter against a certain someone’s thigh, a clench of teeth, red cheeks and the shine of a slightly teary gaze as his hands quickly fly to grip onto the affected area.

Gojo Satoru is not going to admit he was hurt by the inanimate gate that allowed entrance into what his classmates called ‘public transport’.

“What an idiot.” Ieiri Shoko is sipping upon an iced coffee, the bitterness lingering on her tongue as she crossed her arms, her totebag shifting slightly as she rolled her shoulder.

“Rich people are certainly a different breed.” Geto Suguru is less than impressed by that new pompous classmate of his, a quirked brow and narrowed eyes.

“Is he… Okay?” You’re in two minds as your nervous eyes flitter between your all too calm classmates and the one practically kneeled over in pain.

“He’s perfectly fine. Look at him.” Suguru’s tilting his head towards the boy that was limping towards your little group, a frown on his face and words said through gritted teeth. “Commoner amenities…”

“Oho? I thought you were the one who wanted to go?” Geto’s face is smug as he watches irritation emanate from his classmate, your form inbetween the both of them as you feel the tension raise.

Oh no.

“Spouting off as if you’re so high and mighty, am I starting to rub off on you, Weird Bangs?” A provocation as sunglasses start to slide down the length of his nose.

“Dream on, pretty boy. I’d rather swallow a thousand curses.” Flared purple meet egoistic blue.

“Why? Don’t feel like talking things out with me?” A smirk upon his good-looking face. “I’ll make sure to say everything real~ slow for your ears.”

Rising attitudes and sparks fly.

(You’re trying to hide your face behind your sunhat and pretend you don’t know these two.)

“Oiii, train’s coming in 2 minutes.” Thank goodness for Shoko, you feel her arm hoop around your arm. A hushed whisper under her breath.

“Let’s go before they start a brawl.”

Grand opening of XY Amusement Park! The largest ferris wheel, the fastest rollercoasters, a beautiful carousell and much more! Come enjoy a fun-filled day of adventure with your family and friends!

(Not to mention the cheap entrance fee just for students.)

And Gojo Satoru was hooked. It was a spur of the moment decision, a yearning want in his chest, an impulse that pushed him to burst into the dorm loungeroom, flyer in hand and sparkling eyes that expected full compliance.

“Huh?” Geto Suguru is blinking at the flyer basically thrusted into his face. “You’re into this kind of thing?” Copper-purple scan over the colourful words and cute mascots littering the paper before he lifts an arm to push it away.

“Stop smushing it onto my face, I can see perfectly—“

“Weird bangs, I demand you to show me the way to this!” The flyer is pulled away to reveal an all-encompassing blue that commanded attention; a hint of childish excitement within those sparkling orbs.

A look of disgust. “No way. Get there yourself.” Geto easily dismisses him as his gaze flits back to the book upon his lap. “This kinda thing is a waste of time.”

A quick rejection, but as a Gojo, he won’t give up so easily.

“Oi, healing girl! How do I get to this place?”

“I-ei-i-ri.” She slowly enunciates each syllable of her last name, her grimace slowly devolving into a smirk upon her face as she notices the irritation on the white-haired boy grow. “Why? Can’t figure it out yourself, genius?”

She still hasn’t forgiven him for eating the strawberry roll cake you had bought for her earlier this week.

Another rejection. Will he really not get to go afterall…? Maybe he can ask Yaga or somethin— His ears perk up at the sound of a muted squeak.

Crystal blue immediately shoots to your form reading a magazine on the sofa, hiding your face away behind the papers as you curl up and make yourself seem small.

A devious grin.

“Sayyyyy…” He thinks for a moment, eyes narrowed and a smirk upon his face. “(name).” A shiver runs down your spine at the mention of it, drawled out with each syllable enunciated with an underlying motive.

“You know, I’ve always been locked away in my home.” There’s a groan from Geto at your side, a chuckle from Ieiri at the table.

Gojo chooses to ignore both of them. “It’s been so lonely… And I’ve never gotten to experience such peasant activities.” A sideways glance reveals that his head is downturned, a melancholic smile upon his face.

“It would be nice to have some memories…”

You can still sense the evident pompous nature in his words, yet you still freeze in expected guilt, nervous eyes hooked onto the same sentence you’ve been rereading since he entered the room. It looks like ruffles are a charm point this season…

A patter of socks against the wooden floor, and he’s towering above your sitting form, sunglasses pinned onto your ‘distracted’ self.

“You wouldn’t deny me the chance to have a normal highschool life, would you?” A pout in his words as you slowly start to lower the magazine.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he wants to involve himself in such activities…

——

“None of you have any sense at all~” Ieiri Shoko is absolutely glowering with pride, a flip of her short hair as she holds onto the stuffed whale that she had just won. A lovely blue, fluffy and mochi-like in texture, beady little eyes and a dopey smile. It was adorable.

A win of the century, as compared to the tiny windchime Geto held and the empty hands of Gojo.

“How did you even do that…?” Suguru is at a loss for words as his little consolation prize jingled lightly.

“Huh? You don’t get it?” Shoko’s smile grows ever wider. “It’s just like a fwoo, you have to let it go; then it just happens.” The look on her face was just too proud, the explanation just far too lousy.

Gojo Satoru’s head steams with confusion as Geto Suguru just scratches his head.

“Too bad then.” She’s humming as she approaches you with her grand prize. “(last name), here.”

Your eyes are widening slightly, squeezing the softness of it in your hug. It’s— freaking adorable.

“You’ll… Really give this to me?” Your face feels hot, embarrassment and gratitude flooding through your very veins.

“(last name).” A snap of fingers fail to snap you out of the staring trance you were in. Confused brown following your trail of sight to the large, fluffy mass that was the whale you couldn’t keep your eyes off of. A carnival prize?

“Oiiii.” She tries again, and there’s yet another failure, your eyes still blank. Looks like there’s only one solution. She turns around to face the arguing duo, cutting in their conversation.

“Anyone up for a challenge?”

“Thank you, Ieiri…!” You stare down at its beady little eyes. “I love it!” A cuddle into its face as you giggle.

The smile upon your face is worth it enough for her, a satisfied hum leaving her as she twirls her hair.

“Show-off.” Gojo crosses his arms as he pouts. He clearly could’ve won that too!

“If you’re so upset,” Shoko’s eyes gleam with mischief as they spot the haunted house attraction close by. “I have just the perfect thing.”

——

“Ieiri…?” You’re whispering into the still darkness as you take a step forward, arms crossed tight to your chest as you continue forward slowly. “Are you there…?”

(The haunted house required you to place everything you held into a locker for safekeeping.)

“See? There’s nothing to be afraid of—“ She’s cut off abruptly as a hand appears on her shoulder, pulling her into the darkness unnoticed as you turn the corner.

Now you’re all alone, wandering the creepy halls lined with lingering shadows and unsettling sounds that made you squeak in surprise. It wasn’t long before a jumpscare caused you to turn tail, backing up quickly only to hit something akin to a person, your screams echoing through the halls before a hand is placed over your mouth.

“Please calm down—“ The familiar calming voice of Geto Suguru is blown into your ears. “It’s just me.”

(Oh. You feel like smacking him for scaring you like that.)

——

You can barely make out the silhouette of him in this dreary dark, always trailing a little too far from him. “Ah— Here. Hold onto my arm.”

“Are you scared, (last name)?”

You nod, only to hear a laugh that makes you hot with embarrassment, your body immediately facing away from him with a self-conscious pout. “Sorry, sorry.” You hear him stifle his chuckle. “We quite literally deal with curses. It’s funny that you’re still afraid of such things.”

“I-It’s just the atmosphere…! I’ll be fine after we get—“

There’s a sudden crying wail of a child, one that causes you to jump in surprise, your classmate immediately standing in front of you protectively as he feels you tense up.

“Mama…! Mama, I’m sorry! I won’t run away from you anymore!” There’s a little boy sitting upon the ground, knees to his chest and crying. “Please save me…!”

“(last name),” His eyes turn to look down at you. “You can open your eyes now, it’s not a jumpscare.”

Geto was the first to realize.

Are the staffs not around? How could they miss him? You notice the ordinary civilian clothing he donned, out of place from the ‘deep sea terror’ theme of the haunted house.

He certainly was not an attraction.

——

“And your name?” The little boy was held in your arms as he continued to sniffle lightly, small hand gripping onto your shirt as you walked towards the exit.

“Junpei…” He blows his nose into Suguru’s handkerchief. “Yoshino…”

“Yoshino,” Your voice takes on a stern, yet all too gentle tone. “It’s bad to run from your mother. She could be so worried about you, you know?”

You feel him bury his face into your shoulder, a whimper coming from his already small voice.

“You have to apologise to her, okay?”

“Okay… I promise, big sister…”

Geto Suguru finds it funny how your fear disappeared the instant you had to help someone, how quickly you disregard everything else. You didn’t even notice that you were walking ahead of him, fear absolutely dissipated as you near the exit.

“You’re a good kid, Yoshino.” A grin on your face is just barely seen, a look of gentle fondness and happy eyes.

He thinks it’s kind of cute.

——

“Crepes.” He repeats the words back to you as you hold the strawberry cream flavoured one out to him.

“Yes, Gojo-san…”

(Geto was actually off puking his guts out after losing to Gojo in the parfait-coaster showdown. Just what kind of monster is this menace to be able to down 5 overly sweetened parfaits without a sweat? Especially after they had just rode the biggest rollercoaster available there 7 times in a row.

Ieiri just wanted a smoke break.)

So that left the both of you. Alone. Together.

“Um— G-Gojo-san, would you like—“ Your eyes are darting throughout the park. You really, really feel the awkwardness of being left alone with him without Ieiri or Geto here to subvert his attention towards them.

“Crepes?! I-I’ll pay!”

That’s 1300 Yen down the drain…

“So this is what I’ve seen in all those anime.” He’s close, poking at the treat and the shine of the glaze. “Commoner street food.”

“Ahaha— Ha… Yea.” You want to die, gulping nervously when you catch a glimpse of the wholly unimpressed gaze he gives you. The dessert is gingerly plucked from your hands, an almost bored gaze having trained their eyes on it, before they flicker back up to you.

He’s unnerving.

You’re twiddling with your fingers, eyes looking to the side as you feel sweat start to form from your nerves. Please, please…! Any god up there please make him stop scrutinizing you so much…!

“…it’s— Good!” His eyes are shimmering, cream on the corner of his lips as he takes another bite, and another, and another. There’s an entire crepe stuffed into his mouth before he knows it.

A jolly melody gallops into his ears, his eyes widened, sparkling with childish wonder.

“What? Whatcha staring for?”

“Your lips—“ You point to the corner of your own pair. “There’s something there…”

A pointed stare and following silence.

“Well? Get it for me?” It’s expectant, almost as if he was asking you what you were waiting for. Is this a byproduct of being waited on hand and foot? Nevertheless, your own handkerchief is produced from your pocket, leaning up to dab lightly at his chin.

It was meant to be a joke. He didn’t expect you to actually— Did you always smell so good? Your sudden close proximity shoots a tingle into his cheeks, hell, not even those maidservants got this close to him—!

“O-oi—“ Your eyes look up to stare at his, head tilted to the side and a pretty (colour) that he never really got to look at up close, his hand subconsciously holding onto your wrist as you began to pull away.

Did you always look so—

“Uhm… Did you want the handkerchief too…?”

A breeze flutters by your hair, the swaying in the wind causing a swirling in his heart. His eyes are slightly widened as they keep staring into your own, a pause in the atmosphere as his senses are all focused on you.

(He’s just been staring at you. You really want to run away now.)

“I-I’m sorry, you can have it too…” You release your wrist from his grip and place the cloth onto his palm, nervous stuttering and tripping of your words. “I think I heard Geto calling for help…”

And you ran. (You really liked that handkerchief…!)

Gojo Satoru realizes there’s quite a few things he doesn’t know about you, the fabric of your handkerchief soft against his palm the flutters of it much alike his heart.

——

“What are you listening to?” His voice is quiet, smooth on your ears that tingle slightly due to the proximity.

“Just… Something, I suppose.” Your whisper back to him is barely audible, trying to keep your conversation hushed as Shoko’s head nuzzled on your lap. If you’re being honest… You have no clue what you’re listening to, the old portable music player softly murmuring lyrics into your ears.

“I don’t think I know this song…”

The mere sight of seeing Gojo Satoru passed out upon Geto Suguru, your whale plushie hugged tight to his chest and his head lolling about the long-haired boy’s shoulder as drool seeped from the corner of his lip.

(You’d think that your usually gentle classmate would throw him off… But you’re pleasantly surprised he didn’t. It’s strangely… Relaxing right now.)

“…do you like it?” His soothing voice is refreshingly clear within the mumbling snores of your 2 other classmates.

“Mmm…” Your eyes close to focus on the sound just a little bit more. You don’t think you can really decide, or make an unbiased decision when your heart just feels so at ease.

A decisive hand removes the bud from the side closest to Geto, body shifting ever so slightly and nudging a fast asleep Ieiri that doesn’t stir. Your careful fingers gently prod his ear, a sheltered lull playing that begets an amused chuckle.

He could just imagine your face right now, proud, and anticipating silently for his reaction as he loses focus on the song.

It was on that day that Geto Suguru decided that you really were cute.

masterlist

Notes:

Shoko and Suguru only decided to go after you agreed to bring Satoru.

Gojo Satoru has been to amusement parks before. It’s just that whenever he went, the entirety of the park was booked, an army of bodyguards followed him to-and-fro in utmost silence and it was just… Lonely and unenjoyable.

Jujutsu High provides assistants that will drive students to their mission sites. Keyword; Mission sites. Hence Gojo’s request for private transportation was denied.

Gojo Satoru learned that taking the train isn’t as complicated as it seemed.

Geto got separated from Gojo in the haunted house, and he found you by following your screams.

nvy’s aftertalk:

guys i had so many rejected drafts for this i couldn’t decide which ones to put 😭😭

#dyf au #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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tangledinink · 1 year

Text

Chapter Thirteen of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up! The gang journeys through the Hidden City to investigate the Battle Nexus. They journey through and investigate old memories on the way. Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

"BARON DRAXUM!"

Everyone in the room winced, including Baron Draxum, who awoke with a start, sitting stark upright and snarling in response as he swayed.

"Jeez, Recruit... Love the enthusiasm, but tone it down a bit, maybe," Lieutenant bit out, rubbing his ears, still reeling from the volume of her wake-up call. Casey flushed just the tiniest bit.

"My apologies, sensei!" She cried, immediately falling into a bow, but privately she thought to herself it worked, didn't it? Nothing else that they had tried had even begun to stir the yokai, who they had found tied up and in an unconscious heap inside his own underground lab. They had arrived expecting to help transport the Hamato children to their main hideout, certain they would be, of course, apprehended neatly by Draxum by now... but evidently this was not the case.

"What in the world happened?" The Lieutenant voiced Casey's own thoughts aloud, holding his hands out exasperatedly. "You said you were going to get the Hamatos."

"Yes, well, things were a bit more complicated than I anticipated..." Draxum hissed, gritting his teeth.

"You said you could handle them on your own! We offered to send you back-up, but you didn't want to wait! Surely four children didn't overpower you--"

"They did not overpower me," Draxum snapped, turning to snarl as he dragged himself back up to his feet. "Some damned witch placed a protection spell on them," he seethed, absolutely bristling. "I can't touch them..." He grit his teeth. "... I will simply have to account for this in the future..."

Lieutenant and Brute seemed somewhat unimpressed, Cassandra noted, glancing at them from the corners of her eyes as the two exchanged looks.

"Yes, well," Lieutenant mused, his hands on his hips. "I'm sure there will be other opportunities to kidnap children in the future. However, the Dark Armor remains our priority. Come on. We've wasted enough time here, and we have a new lead to investigate..."

"Don't worry. You'll get 'em next time," Brute tried to encourage, patting Draxum's shoulders, to which he snarled and batted his hands away, grumbling to himself as he stalked off after them, discussing as they went.

Cassandra sighed softly, rolling her shoulders back and forth a few times before she trailed after her three superiors.

Yes.... The Dark Armor was the priority.

---

The collective shriek of their group was cut off by a loud thud, immediately followed by a chorus of groans. Okay, so, travel by teleportation was... a little disorientating. The fact that most of them currently sucked at staying on their own two damn feet didn't help matters. Some more than others.

"Sorry!" Raph immediately bit out, wriggling from atop the heap, an awkward chuckle escaping him.

"Raph, my wonderful brother," Leo grit out. "You know I love you dearly. But I'm really gonna need you to stop knocking us all over like bowling pins."

"Well, look, you try walkin' around with a giant tail you ain't used to! It's not as easy as it looks!" He defended, throwing his hands up. "I'm doin' my best over here!"

"Whoa!" Mikey effectively ended their squabble with his gasp, sitting up quickly in order to give a wild gesture. "Guys, look!"

And damn. Whoa was right.

Raph was a New Yorker, so he wasn't easy to impress. He wasn't immediately awed by big, sprawling cityscapes or towering skyscrapers, but this place was... something else. It looked somewhere between an actual city and some sort of mystic ruin, residing as 'neither' and 'both' all at the same time. The buildings themselves seemed to grow from the stone landscape, curving and sliding to match the terrain. Glowing mushrooms, crystals, and occasionally the eyes of massive statues provided brightly colored lighting, leaving the various neon signs and backlit advertisements of the city seeming pale in comparison. Street vendors, kiosks, and tents lined the bustling streets, and each and every creature making up the massive crowds was something completely alien that Raph had never seen nor imagined before. Yokai, he thought to himself. That's what April said they were called.

Rather than sharp, straight lines and confident corners, this place seemed built from jagged outlines and curving bends, looping and winding around itself as if the entire city were hanging on, clinging to itself, holding hands, nestled in between the hulking forms of unmoving stone creatures that Raph was unsure how to categorize. He didn't feel confident saying that they weren't alive after the day they had had, despite their frozen forms and their dead, unseeing eyes.

"This must be the Hidden City," Mikey said, and Leo let out a low whistle as the five of them took in the view.

"Good job, little guy. Knew you could get us here," April hummed, giving the little yellow creature they had rescued a squeeze. His tail wagged wildly in reply, snuggling up in her embrace.

"Alright, now we just gotta get to the Battle Nexus from here," Leo said with a sigh, shifting his weight onto one leg, hand on his hip as he glanced over at the yellow critter. "Any idea where that is?"

The creature chirred in response, nodding excitedly and scrambling down from April's arms in order to lead the way. Leo grinned.

"Okay, I take back all my earlier doubts and hesitations. Bringing this guy with us was a great idea," Leo declared as the group set off.

Though the acquisition of weapons, all tucked or stowed away in backpacks or belt loops or pockets, had helped a bit, Raph had still been, admittedly, pretty nervous about entering the city, a pool of anxiety swirling around in his gut. Given the day they had had so far, he couldn't help but imagine a hoard of devious yokai dogpiling him and his siblings the moment they set foot into unknown territory. But, to his quiet surprise, no one spared them even a second glance, all seeming far too occupied with their own errands and lives to glance over at their ragtag group.

Somehow, this made Raph feel a bit better. For several reasons. He supposed that, at the very least, they didn't seem to be freaks here.

"Don't worry, Dad, we're on our way," Mikey chirped, and despite his current relief, Raph still couldn't quite understand how his little brother could be so cheerful. Mikey always amazed him with his emotional resilience. Wished he had some of that.

"Eugh, is he even gonna recognize us when we get there?" Leo said with a wince, wrinkling up his face a bit. "We look, uh... a little different than when he last saw us."

"I'm pretty sure he knows, Leo," Donnie remarked. "He's the one who put the bracelets on us in the first place. He knows."

Raph glanced dimly down at the little golden bracelet still encircling his wrist, the red gem now seeming a bit duller somehow, and he frowned. So this little trinket was mystic all along, huh? Now that he knew, it seemed stupidly obvious. He wondered anxiously if they still worked anymore, or if they were broken forever.

"No wonder he didn't want us to take these things off," Leo muttered, looking over his own, holding his arm up to examine it. "Jeez. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us. How did we not know?"

Mikey gave a thoughtful hum. "Do you guys remember when we were really little? Before we moved? And we used to pretend we were turtles all the time?"

"Somehow I don't think that was pretend, Mikey," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes.

"That's what I'm saying!" Mikey insisted. "But you guys do remember that, right? I just... I always thought that that was just us playing a game or something, but it must have been real! So we knew at some point!"

"And then we forgot..." Donnie mumbled, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, already obviously doing calculations in his head.

"You guys were pretty weird when you first moved here," April remarked.

"Oh come on. How do you just forget that you're a turtle?" Leo argued, glancing over his shoulder at the others. "That seems like the kind of thing that'd stick with you."

"I dunno," Mikey shrugged. "But obviously we did!"

"You're not implyin' that Dad did somethin', are ya?" Raph questioned, narrowing his eyes, and Leo immediately huffed.

"No! Of course not!" He frowned. "It's just... I dunno. It's weird, is all. It's crazy to think about how much stuff that we just... forgot."

"Well, what do you remember?" Donnie nudged. "Like, from before the move."

"Not much," Leo admitted, scrunching up his nose. "Everything from back then is fuzzy. I don't even know where we moved from."

"I think..." Donnie hesitated a moment. "I think we moved from there."

"Where. The Hidden City?" Mikey questioned.

"No, no, back there. I mean. The sewer we were in before," Donnie pressed. "Didn't it seem... kind of familiar to you guys?"

"Well..." Raph frowned.

"Mikey! Wait!" Raph laughed, stumbling as he chased after his littlest brother. He still didn't walk with a terrible amount of grace, but he crawled like a madman, and Raph took great joy in chasing him around. Mikey did, too, giggling maniacally as he attempted to dodge the other.

Raph could feel, reaching back into the memory, that the bottoms of his feet were cold. The ground was hard beneath them, like stone. Like concrete. He remembered worrying about Mikey's knees. And, thinking back on it now, he swore he could almost hear the sound of running water in the background.

"I go’chyu!" Raph declared, grabbing Mikey, who squealed in response, wriggling against him.

Everything from back then was blurred; cobbled together like pieces of glass glued into a mosaic, appearing in his mind’s eye as a series of blotted, wrinkled images. Were they turtles or people back then? He wasn't sure. Where were they?

"I remember it was dark..." He said. "And cold a lot. The ground was stone or somethin.’"

"I remember that, too!" Mikey gasped.

"Whoa, wait!" Mikey squirmed his way out of Raph's arms again, attempting an escape, and a flare of panic flashed through him for a moment. He dove for Mikey for real this time, not playing anymore, grabbing his brother before he could get too far.

"We can't go that way, Mikey. Daddy said 's not safe yet," he explained when his brother whined in complaint, hoisting him back the way they came, his footsteps clumsy while trying to drag his brother along. "We gotta stay in these tunnels."

"And... I think I remember there being… tunnels," he continued. "Or somethin' like that. It was really big, wherever we were, but we could only go into certain places. And the rest was off-limits, ‘cause Dad said he hadn’t checked them all to make sure they were okay yet. I remember keepin' Mikey from wanderin' off."

"I remember tunnels!" Mikey exclaimed. "I remember yelling into them when we were little and listening to them echo. I remember doing it until Leo made me stop!"

"I don't remember that," Leo protested, crossing his arms.

"You did!" Mikey insisted. "You said I had to play something else because it was bothering Donnie."

"That would be in character for you," April remarked with a tiny grin.

"Sounds like sewers to me," Donnie said with a shrug.

"Maybe," Leo conceded. "But why the hell would Dad keep us in the sewers?"

"There’s probably limited options when your kids are literally part-turtle," Raph reasoned with a grumble.

"Yeah, but abandoned sewers?" Leo pressed. "Come on. Was that really the only choice? Couldn't he have just... kept us inside or something?"

"I don't think so," Donnie said, frowning a bit, shaking his head. Leo sighed.

"Why not?"

"Leo, Dad has one of these bracelets, too," Donnie said. "Remember?"

---

The rest of their journey through the Hidden City went about the same way. One of the boys would bring up some old memory, and they'd discuss for a while, before the conversation would peter out and they'd walk in silence for a bit before the cycle started all over again. April pointed out that they had all regularly chirped and clicked and made other odd noises when she had first met them, but eventually, they grew out of it (mostly.) Raph discussed his memories of watching his younger brothers when they were very little, waiting somewhere dark and quiet for their dad to get back from wherever he was going. Donnie and Leo both remembered sleeping together as toddlers, somewhere very small and curled up, like a nest of some kind, both agreeing that it didn't quite seem like a crib or a bed. Mikey mentioned how many times he got in trouble for painting or drawing on walls when they first moved into the apartment, and how much it had upset and confused him in the beginning-- was that because their dad hadn't bothered to correct the behavior when they lived in the sewers?

"When we first started swim team," Donnie mused, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky. "I remember sometimes, we would have contests with the other kids to see how long we could hold our breaths."

"I remember that," Leo agreed. "And we'd always win!"

"Yes, but..." Donnie hummed. "I think we probably could have won by a lot more if we wanted."

"What do you mean?" Raph questioned.

"Well," Donnie explained. "I recall, or, at least, I think I do, that… that when we first started partaking in those contests, it was... it was easy. Everyone else would have already come up to breathe, but I'd feel completely fine. I'd only come up because I had won and the contest was over. But after a while, people started being weird about it," he frowned. "To be fair, people were weird about a lot of things I did. And I will admit I didn’t always catch on, but I noticed this one,” he said, laughing dryly and giving a wave of his hands. “And at the time, I just wrote it off as one of many! Just another thing that I did that made me different from my peers. But I started coming up earlier so I'd be more... normal," he confessed. "And I'd pretend like I was out of breath when I wasn't, so people would stop looking at me like that. Or, well. People stopped looking at me like that for that particular reason. And I guess eventually I just... I got so used to pretending that it just became second nature, and I didn’t even realize I was pretending anymore."

Leo nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds… that sounds right, actually…”

"I remember thinking the same thing!" Raph exclaimed, his eyes wide at the realization. "Except I felt bad that all the other kids kept losin' so bad! I started pretendin' 'cause I didn't want everyone else to get discouraged, and I just did it for so long...!"

"But you're the best swimmer, Dee," Leo remarked, nudging his twin slightly with a tiny smile. "So I wouldn't be surprised if you can hold your breath the longest, too. I mean, christ, you literally have webbed fingers now."

April glanced down at her brother’s hands, noting quietly to herself that it was true. If she was being totally honest with herself, it was a bit alien to look at, so she drew her eyes back away after a moment.

"That does make sense," April hummed. "And it'd explain why you guys are so good at swim meets and stuff, too."

The other three paused, and Leo frowned a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean. If you're turtles, then... obviously you're gonna be good at swimming," she reasoned with a shrug. "It makes sense. Of course you’re gonna win!"

"Mikey doesn't swim," Donnie pointed out.

"Maybe he's a different kind of turtle who doesn't swim?"

"A terrestrial turtle..." Donnie hummed, resting his chin in his hand, brows furrowed. "Maybe a box turtle or something..."

"You think I'm a box turtle?!" Mikey gasped, his eyes lighting up.

"But obviously the rest of you would be good at swimming if you're, like, aquatic," she continued. "So I'm not surprised you all always kicked so much butt at swim meets and stuff!"

"... Yeah. I guess so," Raph said, but he seemed kind of... dejected, almost. Like he was upset. The conversation shifted shortly after, focus shifting to Mikey’s new identity as a box turtle, but April's mind lingered.

Why did she feel like she had just said something wrong?

---

“This is the Battle Nexus?!"

Raph gawked slightly, suddenly feeling a lot less confident. He could feel the various winces and mumbles around him. "It's a goddamn fortress! We're never gettin' in there!"

"Oh, come on. What were you expecting? To just walk in?" Leo scoffed. "It's not that bad!"

"Not that bad?!" Raph squawked, turning to gesture wildly to the massive walls, the towering, heavily guarded entrances, the watch towers perched on nearly every corner... Christ, was that a blimp overhead!? "Are you crazy?! There’s no way!!!"

"Well, not with that attitude," Leo said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah! We're basically ninjas, Raph, we got this!" Mikey cheered, ever optimistic.

"We’re not ninjas, Mikey. And there's no way in hell we're sneakin' in there. You two are out of your mind," Raph said with a scowl.

"We don't gotta sneak!" Leo insisted, waving away the other's concerns. "Don't worry! I'll talk us in there, no problem! Leon's got this. I'm an actor, remember? I just gotta charisma our way past one of those guards."

"You wanna talk your way in?" April questioned, raising a brow. "Leo, are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure! This'll be a piece of cake. C'mon-- watch and be amazed!"

They were not amazed.

"Seriously, Leo?" Raph hissed, no more than five minutes later, the group slinking back into the same alley they had started from with a few new bumps and bruises and their metaphorical (literal?) tails between their legs. "Caravaggio? The awards show host? From the Bloodsporties?"

"I thought it'd work!" Leo cried, throwing up his hands. "Everyone likes to be flattered! People love it when you bring them awards!"

"Why do you need four assistants to drop off an award?" Donnie hissed.

"It's a very important award!" Leo insisted.

"That no one's ever heard of?!"

"Yet," Leo huffed. "Okay, look, it's fine. Leon's still got this. We just gotta switch over to plan B."

"Plan B had better not be at all similar to Plan A," Raph said, crossing his arms. "Or involve any of us being strong-armed off the premises by a massive yokai guard!"

"It won't, it won't, I promise!" Leo assured, getting to his feet again. "Okay. Watch and be amazed! Again!"

Leo shook out his limbs, straightening his posture, rolling his shoulders back, and setting his feet apart. And then, for just a moment, he was completely still. His chest didn't even twitch with a single breath. All at once, he inhaled sharply--

... And nothing happened.

"Wow. Amazing," Donnie said dryly.

"Well, just, gimme a minute! You're breaking my concentration!" Leo snapped, repeating the motion-- and then again, and then a few more times, until he was basically flailing in place, repeatedly thrashing in the same spot. "Come-- ON! Work already!"

"Leo, what the hell are you doin'?" Raph sighed. Leo groaned loudly in frustration.

"I am trying to use my mystic teleportation powers! Obviously!"

"Your what?" Donnie scoffed.

"I'm sorry, you mean the weird mystic things that we've been doin' completely against our will for the past two weeks and have absolutely zero control over? That one?" Raph grit out.

"Well, I'm starting to get the hang of the pattern..." Leo muttered.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me!!!"

"Well, maybe he can really do it!" Mikey chipped in with a bit of tentative encouragement.

"So, let me get this straight," Donnie said, rubbing his temples. "You are trying to teleport all six of us inside of the Battle Nexus... using your mind. Is that correct?"

Leo scowled. He shuffled his feet at the dirt, his lower lip poked out.

"It could happen," he huffed.

"You're an idiot."

"Leo, there's no way this is ever gonna work! We barely even know anything about these powers!" Raph insisted. "What if it's dangerous?!"

"I'm getting the hang of it!" Leo repeated. "I could do it! And how would you know, anyway? You don't even have any powers yet!"

"Guys!" April yelled over the chaos, and the rest of the group paused to glance over.

Scowling, she gestured wildly to the little yellow yokai creature that had led him here.

Oh, right. The one who teleported.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Yeah, that's probably a better plan," Leo reluctantly conceded, though he was still pouting.

"Thank you," April said, scooping the yokai up, who purred and waved his tail, seemingly happy to help. "Okay, come on guys, huddle up. And try not to fall over this time!"

The whole group obeyed, scrunching up around each other and grabbing onto various hands and elbows to make sure everyone would make it to where they needed to go. But something Leo had said nagged at the edges of Raph's mind, gnawing at him even as a bright flash of cyan light overtook them, the world going out from under their feet as they teleported once again.

Why didn't he have any powers yet?

---

Donatello wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting the inside of the Battle Nexus to look like, but it wasn’t ‘literal sports stadium.’

Though they stumbled a bit, they all managed to keep their footing this time once they teleported inside the halls of the Battle Nexus, thankfully in a quiet, unoccupied corner just outside of a stairwell. Perhaps it had been naive of him, but he hadn’t expected the inside of this place to so closely resemble the inside of a modern football arena.

“Nice job, little guy,” April whispered to the little yellow yokai, who looked just a bit more tired than he had before, Donnie noted, panting softly. “We’ll take it from here. You rest,” she instructed gently, tucking the critter into her jacket.

“Anyone have any idea where we’re going?” Leo questioned, looking around suspiciously.

“No,” Raph admitted. “But everyone stick close. And… act casual. This place has gotta be crawling with yokai!” Donnie concurred; he could hear the roars of the crowd from here. “If we don’t call any attention to ourselves, we can just blend in. Dad has be around here somewhere.”

“You got it, bossman,” Leo hummed. “Come on. I think the main stadium is over there. Let’s check that out first and see what the deal is.”

Now, Donnie may be a theater kid, but he was not exactly an actor the way Leo was, (or claimed to be, anyway,) and so ‘acting casual’ was a bit of a demand. He was very focused on trying to make his body language ‘casual,’ in keeping his muscles untensed and his expression neutral, to the extent that he was not especially paying that much attention to their surroundings as the group trailed after Leo. He followed his siblings’ lead into the main seating area of the arena, adjusting the settings of his headphones slightly as they moved to join the edges of the crowd, hoping to keep out the excited screams of the fans.

As a result, he was a bit taken aback when he did look up to take in the scene of the ring below them.

And oh. Oh my god.

This really was fucking bloodsport, huh?

“Jesus christ--”

He was vaguely aware of Raph’s hand hurriedly slapping over Mikey’s eyes before he could get a good look at the scene not just in the battle ring below, but also projected onto the massive jumbotron, and the younger immediately gave a yelp of protest.

“Hey! Raph--”

“Mikey, I know that you don’t wanna be babied and you’re gonna complain, but I really need you to just trust your big brother on this one,” Raph hissed out, his voice tight. “Don’t. Look.”

April had her hands over her mouth, and Leo bristled, mumbling a few curses. Donnie really, really didn’t want to be watching this, but he couldn’t quite take his eyes away. There was a wet, crunching noise, so loud that they could hear it even from up here in the balconies (were they mic’ed up? Sweet baby Galileo--) and the entire party winced around him as the crowds roared in delight.

“What happened?!” Mikey cried from behind Raph’s hands.

“Donnie?” April said, glancing over at him.

He swallowed hard, his stomach flipping. No, no, no. Come on. Keep it together, Vomitello. Not the time, not the place, not at all casual…!

Leo, to his credit, caught on pretty quickly, paling a bit at the realization and jumping forward to bodily whip Donnie away from the scene, beginning to herd the group away.

“Okay, well, Dad’s definitely not down there!” He bit out with a nervous laugh. “Thank fucking god… Look. Obviously, we’re up super high. Let’s find the stairs, start heading down, and see if we find anything on the way,” he said hurriedly, not slowing his pace until they were basically back out where they started, in the near-abandoned outside hallways.

“Sounds like a plan,” Raph said, finally releasing his grip on Mikey’s head. “Uh. Don…?”

“I’m good,” he squeaked out, leaning over slightly, his hands on his knees as he coughed a few times. “All good, no problem…! Just… gimme a second…!”

“Donald,” Leo said through gritted teeth, clapping his hands together decisively. “I am literally begging you not to puke right now.”

“I am doing my best, thank you!” Donnie snapped in response, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh my god, why was it so lumpy? It looked like cottage cheese!”

“What are you doing!? Stop thinking about it!” Leo cried.

“Think about something else instead! Like… the periodic table! You love that thing,” Mikey suggested brightly. “Like, uhhh, what’s the symbol for chlorine?”

“C-L,” Donnie bit out, flapping his hands a bit and letting out a slow breath through a clenched jaw. “Come on, Mikey, that’s way too easy.”

“Okay, uhhm, what’s the atomic number for iodine?”

“Fifty-three.”

“Yeah! And what’s the atomic mass of titanium?”

“Forty-seven-point-eight-six-seven.”

“Yep! And uranium?”

“Oh, uranium, my beloved, my white whale…! Two-hundred and thirty-eight-point-zero-two-eight-nine.”

“AHHH!” Mikey imitated a buzzer. “Wrong!”

Donnie’s head snapped up. “What?!”

“Just kidding!” Mikey chirped happily. “I don’t actually know the answer. You’re probably right.”

“Oh, you evil genius,” Donnie said, shaking his head. “I’m never helping you study for science class ever again.”

“Pshhhh, yeah you will. Plus you feel better now, don’t you?” Mikey pressed, grinning wide.

“Yes, okay, fine. I owe you one,” Donnie sighed deeply, offering just the smallest of smiles and rubbing the other’s head as though tousling hair, (not that he had any anymore. Ugh, don’t think about that, either,) eliciting a giggle from the other. At least the nausea had backed off now. “Okay. Come on. Leo’s right, shockingly enough. Let’s head downstairs and see if we can find anything.”

“Oh thank god,” Leo whispered, yanking the door to the stairwell open and gesturing to his siblings. “Okay, c’mon, let’s go! Vamanos!”

The trip down through the Battle Nexus was long and boring, but admittedly, calming. Donnie had always been a fan of repetitive actions, and so far, every new floor they investigated they found much of the same, not uncovering much save for more seating for screaming, cheering yokai along with the occasional food court or souvenir stand. Any guards they found they made sure to steer clear of, slowly working their way down through the stadium.

“This is going nowhere,” Raph hissed softly, leaning into Leo as they did a lap through yet another floor of stadium seating. Quite frankly, Donnie was beginning to wonder if all these floors were exactly the same. “Where the heck do you think they’re keepin’ Dad?”

“I don’t know! How would I know?” Leo questioned, bristling a bit.

“This was your plan!”

“Yeah, ‘cause no one else had a plan!” He bit back, scowling. “Look, we’ve just gotta… uh… we’ve gotta…” He looked around for a moment, floundering for just a second before he lit up, pointing.

“We’ve just gotta follow one of those guys!”

Everyone glanced over, and April frowned a bit.

“Follow one of the guards?”

“Yeah!” Leo nodded excitedly. “Look, if anyone’s gonna know how to get into the secret, spooky parts of the Nexus, it’ll be an employee! There’s no way Dad’s just in the stands somewhere or in any of the other public bits of this place. And we’re just walking in circles.” He said with a roll of his wrist. “But I bet if we tail one of those dudes, they’ll lead us straight to him! We just gotta be sneaky.”

“He does have a pretty good point,” Mikey reasoned.

“I dunno. It seems kinda dangerous,” April said, raising a brow.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any other ideas…” Raph said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The three of them glanced over at Donnie, and he sighed, tilting his head back and forth for a moment to do some rapid calculations.

“I do agree that the risk associated with this plan of action is… significant,” he said, frowning a bit. “Butttttt… just wandering around aimlessly isn’t going to get us anywhere. Following someone has a much higher probability of success.”

“That sounds good enough to me!” Raph said, giving a nod. “Alright. Let’s do this then. Everyone’s just gotta be ninja-level sneaky. Got it?”

“Got it,” the group agreed, giving a nod.

Would this go horribly wrong? Only one way to find out.

Finding their target was easy enough. This place was crawling with guards, quite frankly, they just had to pick one. After rejecting the first few targets, as they were all rather beefy, they settled on a slightly smaller, less-deadly-looking Nexus employee to follow.

“Okay,” Leo said. “We’ve just gotta tail him for a while and see where he goes. Everyone stick close, and be quiet.”

“Obviously! You don’t have to tell us to be quiet!” Donnie hissed back.

“Both of you shut up!” Raph whispered. “Look, come on, pay attention! He’s on the move. Mad Dogz, roll out! We can’t lose this guy.”

Donnie huffed and grumbled a bit, resisting the urge to hipcheck Leo as the group began picking their way through the halls, taking care to stick to the shadows. At first, Donnie thought that this was just another waste of their time, and they would end up doing even more laps around the stadium. He dared to get his hopes up, however, when the fox-like yokai paused in front of an unassuming wall. It looked about the same as any other portion of wall in this place, but once the Yokai placed his hand (paw?) to it, it lit up white, and suddenly, there was a door that wasn’t there before.

“Whoa! Lookit that!” Mikey gasped.

“We’re all already looking at it, Mikey, be quiet,” Donnie hissed.

“What’d Raph say!? Shut it! And come on! Quick and quiet, before the door closes!” Raph whispered with a hurried wave of his arm, and the five took off, closing the gap between themselves and the guard in order to slip inside the secret panel, quiet as ninjas-- just like Dad taught them. Even April was surprisingly quiet, and Donnie was privately impressed. It took them years of lessons with their dad (and ill-advised shenanigans that they wished not to face consequences for,) to get this good at sneaking.

All five of them made it in, and the guard was already halfway down the hall by the time they joined them, seemingly none the wiser. Donnie didn’t make a sound, but silently, he fucking whooped and cheered. Yes!!! He had been really fifty-fifty on whether or not this was going to work out.

At the end of the hall, the fox guard clicked a button on the wall, and about five seconds later, the wall opened up like an elevator.

The elevator had about eight other yokai inside. These yokai did not have their backs on them.

“HEY!” One of them immediately shouted, pointing at their group, as they had not yet managed to find a proper hiding space in the long, but sparse hallway. Every single other yokai snapped around to look at them. “What’re you doing in here!? This is employees only!”

Fuck.

“Uhhh…” A pained smile spread on Leo’s face. “We’re looking for the bathroom?”

“Sure,” the fox scoffed, turning to face them properly now, beginning to make his way back down the short hall to meet them. “Alright, lemme see your tickets. I’ll escort you back to your seats.”

“Our tickets? Uhhh… Sure…” Raph spluttered for a moment, laughing nervously. “Let’s see, uh, where did we put--”

April yanked her club from her backpack and promptly slammed it into the yokai’s head with a loud thunk.

“APRIL!” Raph screamed, jumping in surprise. “What the hell!?”

“Well, there’s nowhere to run!” She shouted in response, and, ah, welp, there she went. Full charge ahead, then? “Come on, we gotta get into that elevator!”

Donnie sighed deeply. Well, he had predicted fifty-fifty.

He set his jaw, rolling his shoulders a few times before whipping his bo staff from his back. “Alright, well. Here we go.”

“COWABUNGA!” Raph shouted as he charged forward, and Donnie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They were gonna have to work on battle formations and plans later.

But he was prepared this time. He wasn’t gonna freeze up and back down.

Yes, this was a fight. An actual, for real fight, which he had never been in before! But he hadn’t trained for nothing.

He got this. They’d be fine. They got this.

Leo laughed, sliding forward with quick, practiced ease, his odachi flashing forward to smack the blunt of the blade against the ankles of the nearest yokai and send them tumbling to the ground while he darted past them. April was right on his tail, beaning anyone who got too close and following her younger brother’s lead. “Come on, guys, keep up!”

“Right behind yah!” Mikey cheered, both him and Raph rushing forward at a matching pace. Despite the size difference, the two easily kept up with one another. Where Raph elbowed his opponents out of the way, clearing himself a path by bodily throwing their enemies to the side, Mikey darted and danced his way around them, a zig-zagged ballet to Raph’s straight, unyielding path. He whooped loudly as he went, always just out of reach with each step.

“Hot Soup!” Donnie noted their eldest brother howled out another battle cry (wasn’t that copyrighted?) Mikey’s kusari-fundo whipped about to fling him forward, tackling the largest of the guards to the ground and sending them both tumbling down the hall.

Like… Both of them tumbling.

Also, Mikey was in the mix too, still attached by the chains of his kusari-fundo.

Well, at least it was still forward momentum!

Donnie inhaled deeply, his muscles coiling.

Couldn’t get left behind.

He darted down the hallway, jumping over and dodging around anyone already on the ground. At one point, a hand flashed out, grabbing at his ankle, and Donnie bit out a series of curses. He wrenched himself out of their grip, stumbling slightly, and nearly ran straight into one of the other (quite large) yokai in the hallway. A rapid equation darted through his head, however, and he just barely managed to correct his footing at the last second, turning sharply on his heel to transfer the momentum into his staff. The weapon curled around to slam into the guard with a heavy, satisfying thawk, sending them sprawling to the ground, and the entire hallway shuddered at the impact.

Well, that was a close one. He hopped over their fallen form and surged ahead, reaching down to grab Mikey’s hand as he went, dragging both him and Raph to their feet behind him, “Come on!”

The two found their footing quickly with the assist, falling back into a sprint-- smacking and dodging enemies as they went with about a seventy-five-percent success rate. Jesus, had this hallway always been this long? It felt like it was taking a stupid amount of time to get to the other end of it! Out of the very corners of his eyes, Donnie just barely spotted one of the larger guards rising back up to their feet, lunging at him from behind-- only for a neon green club to come whipping out of nowhere at the very last second, colliding with the side of his assailant’s head and throwing him right back to the ground.

“Hey! Only I get to hit my little brothers!” April shrieked, her face set in a furious scowl. The guard, a huge, stocky, lion-like creature snarled in reply, lashing out with his legs to send her sprawling to the floor with a yelp.

“Oh, you did not just do that to our friend!” Mikey snapped, flashing forward to stand protectively in front of their sister, his kusari-fundo whizzing around them, filling the air with a barely-there whine. “Back off!”

He lashed out with the weapon, his arm whipping forward with the movement-- only to blink in surprise when physics failed to behave as expected. Which, uh, was pretty unusual for physics. Physics were typically pretty reliable. But the weight at the end of his weapon spun wildly in place, suspended in air for several long seconds, before it promptly lit up in a blazing flame.

“Ooh!” Mikey shrieked in delight. “Magic weapon! Guys, loo-- ACK!”

And there they were, Donnie thought dimly to himself.

The uncontrolled variables.

Donnie gasped, immediately ducking down and covering his head as his brother flew about the room like a deranged bird, still hanging onto his (seemingly demonic) mystic weapon. He all but pinballed off the walls, screaming the whole time. The lion just barely managed to leap out of the way before Mikey crashed into the wall, flopping down with a small squeak on impact, luckily seeming shaken but not injured.

“WHOA! Mikey! That was awesome!” Raph gaped, his eyes widening. “Dude, how did you do that?!”

“I dunno!” Mikey said, stumbling to his feet and kind of wavering a bit with dizziness. “I was just swinging my weapon around and it just-- did it!”

“Let me try!” Raph said, shaking his tonfas about like they were goddamn maracas. “Come on, magic weapon, magic weapon, magic weapon-- OOH!” He yelped in surprise as one of the remaining guards crashed into him, snarling as they all but whipped him from his feet. But Raph held his ground. “Okay, alright-- magic weapon tests later! Fight now!”

“Can’t wait to see what mine does!” Leo laughed as he leaped over the group, diving towards an oncoming yokai. He swung his blade forward, slicing through the air with a loud crackle of near-electric energy--

A bright blue circle of mystic energy promptly opened up beneath Leo, and he yelped in surprise as he went plunging downward.

And downward.

“Hm,” Donnie remarked. “I guess he can teleport.”

“GET! ME! OFF! THIS! RIDE!” Leo howled, flailing as he plummeted endlessly through the two parallel portals he had sliced through reality, one below his feet and the other up above his head, only picking up the pace the longer he fell.

Donnie sighed loudly. He was sure someone else would get him. Eventually. In the meantime, someone was gonna have to take care of the remaining yokai guards. Luckily, this one was suitably distracted by his twin brother’s infinite falling.

“And that’s why I like fighting the old-fashioned way,” Donnie hummed, slipping past the yokai’s side and into his blind spot, watching their eyes widen in surprise as he jabbed sharply at them with his bo staff. They were just barely able to dodge out of the way of Donnie’s attacks. “Though the portal does make for some quality entertainment, I must admit--”

They jumped out of Donnie’s range, swiping forward with a clawed arm, and Donnie’s body immediately, instinctively moved in response, his bo staff flashing upward to block the move and force them off-kilter. He hardly even had to think. His body already knew what to do when he needed it.

It’s just like a tournament. No different from a tournament. You’ve won thousands of fights. This is exactly the same thing. Just keep your head, do the math-- You’re good at this, remember?

Bouncing off the yokai’s arm, Donnie’s staff whipped back around to ricochet into the side of their head, earning him a frustrated and perhaps pained snarl in response. See? Donnie grinned, just for a second, ducking easily out of the way of the guard’s counterattack and leaping to the side, finding himself the space once more to adjust his stance and run rapid calculations. Numbers danced in front of his eyes, and he quickly zeroed in on the equation with the best probability of success, building his plan of action around that.

The yokai snarled, leaping after him-- exactly as he expected. Donnie’s entire body instantly snapped downward and out of their path in response, ducking away from their attack. At the same time, they pitched themselves to the left, whipping their bo staff around as they went to find their mark. The guard made a short, strangled noise of surprise as the weapon collided with their throat, sending them reeling in the opposite direction. They were almost immediately on their knees, choking and spluttering as Donnie darted away, just the tiniest bit breathless as he went.

“Just like I planned it--!” He had laughed, quietly delighted that it had, in fact, gone the way he planned it, and why had he been worried? He could do this, he knew how to do this!-- when his youngest sibling went flying into his side with a yelp.

The pair of them tumbled across the hallway before slamming into the wall, bringing their unexpected trip to a sudden and grinding halt. Donnie groaned softly, wincing as he slowly forced himself back up, stars all but dancing in front of his eyes, Mikey flopped over beside him and seeming just as dazed. Ow. Okay. That hadn’t been in his calculations.

He just barely caught sight of the lion yokai diving for them, catching on about half a second before the attack landed.

He didn’t run any numbers this time. He didn’t have the chance.

His muscles moved quicker than even his brain could, throwing himself bodily over top of his baby brother to shield him from the coming impact.

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowau fic #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #rottmnt human au #tmnt human au #fanfic #fidgetwing #fighting and potential injury #my beta reader has already informed me ill be hearing from their lawyer so don't worry abt it #also i make my best (and by that i mean dumbest) jokes in this chapter

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breyito · 2 months

Text

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part One: Severance

For @painlandweek Day 1: Language of Love: Acts of service (because killing a b*tch and plunging into obscurity to rescue your other half counts); and Sickfic (because Charles is not having a good time, poor boy).

You can read it here on AO3:

Part 2 Part 3 Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

“Crystal, you've seen him without me. You have never seen me without him.”

When Charles is taken by a powerful and mysterious entity, already hurt from protecting Edwin; Edwin loses his mind. He will stop at nothing to get his partner, the love of his life, back.

It's not like it's the first time he's had to do it. (He honestly thought that at least the European supernatural community had learnt their lesson about taking Charles away from him. It seems like a reminder is due.)

Part One: Severance

As soon as Charles was dragged through the glass’ surface with a cutoff scream and every mirror in the room shattered, Edwin felt his non-existent heart stop. Not again, not again, he thought, as he shifted throughout the shards for any kind of response to his magic. Nothing. Completely inert.

Ignoring Crystal’s sputtering questions, he ran outside the church to check the surrounding grounds. The day had already been gloomy, and now the dim grey light gave a sinister feeling to the whole place. The graveyard in which the old church was located did not help matters.

He checked every metre of the place, hoping, hoping, hoping that Charles had just been transported somewhere near. (His brain tried to tell him that, logically, Charles could only have gone to another mirror or reflective surface, and all the mirrors inside the building were broken and there was no body of water on the property. For once, Edwin ignored his brain with all his might).

He even cleaned the decades of filth from windows on the outside, because maybe then they’d be reflective enough that Charles could come back. But everything was useless, he was gone. He was gone, he was gone, Charles was gONE.

Ghosts didn’t have hearts that beat nor did their lungs need air, but Edwin kept taking more and more air in and he still couldn’t breathe. He was choking. He tugged desperately at his bowtie, finally opening it along with his shirt. His hands came away wet from his neck, and that’s when he realised that he was crying.

That last loss of control pushed him over the edge and he crashed to his knees on the leaf covered dirt. He pressed his muddied palms to his eye sockets and pressed until he saw colours burst behind his eyelids.

He needed to think. He had to use his brain. He had to come up with something. He was so useless, so stupid. Why couldn’t he fucking think?

Edwin began hitting his forehead with his hands, because his brain wasn’t working and he needed the panic to stop so he could think. Thud-thud-thud. Sob. Thudthudthudthudthudthud. Stupid, stupid, stupid-!

“Edwin! Edwin, stop!” That was Crystal. She was kneeling next to him, trying to tug his hands away from his face.

“H-he’s gone.” Edwin cried. He began grabbing and tugging at his hair, then digging his nails on the skin, leaving streaks of dirt to mix with the tears and drops of blood. “Charles’ gone, Crystal. I ca-can’t find him. I’ve looked everywhere!”

He curled into a little shivering ball, face between his knees and arms around his head, as he rocked back and forth. Still, Crystal could hear his heartbreaking sobs and had to sniff not to burst out crying too.

“Hey.” she said. Edwin didn’t seem to notice. “Hey!” She yelled, grabbing his shoulders and making him look at her. “Stop. He’s not gone-gone, alright? We can still find him. He’s counting on us.” Those green eyes kept spilling tears, but at least she could hear him taking in more air than before. “Breathe with me, Ed, okay? C’mon.”

A few minutes later, Edwin was still shaking, but seemed more in control. He was trying to wipe off the dirt on his hands, at least, and his hair was slowly returning to its regular state. Finally, he took one last big breath in.

“Right.” he said, as he smoothed down his coat. “That’s enough of that.”

In a blink, the boy in front of her was back in his immaculate uniform. Crystal didn’t know why, but she felt a shiver go down her spine as she looked at him. The only difference from his usual spotless image is Charles’ bag-of-tricks, which he had retrieved from inside the decrepit church. He had a death grip on it, so she knew he wouldn't accept her carrying it.

“We need to get back to the office, right? To figure out who took him?” she said more than asked, as they began walking towards the gates of the cemetery.

“Yes, that is indeed the first step.”

“Do you wanna go ahead and I’ll meet you there?” Crystal didn’t particularly feel like riding the bus on her own back to the city, even more so when the skies were beginning to darken; but she figured she had to offer, at least.

“That won’t be necessary.” he answered, retrieving a pair of glasses from his coat pocket.

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Charles would never forgive me if something happened to you because I was careless of your safety. We can begin the investigation with my notes and some of the books inside Charles’ bag.” He cleaned the lenses of the spectacles, and put them on, “I’ll join you as a passenger, since it’s safer to travel in numbers at night.” ended the elegant lady in the dark blue pantsuit. Not a minute too soon, as the turn at the end of the road led directly to the bus stop, and there were people already boarding their vehicle.

“I thought there was the possibility of losing an arm to the bag?” she questioned, suspicious, as she paid for their tickets.

“As you can imagine, there’s an infinite number of levels. It’s true that Charles is the only one that can (mostly) navigate all of them safely; but I’ve had to learn too, for instances such as these. He usually leaves my books on Levels Three or Four, since I can reach those without much strain in an emergency, if he’s…not around.”

They choose to sit on the back, as to spread the books in the seats between them.

“Let’s get you started with Reflection Manipulation for the Souls” Crystal nodded as she accepted the book. “It might be useful to shed light on what creature could affect the mirrors and glasses in such a way.”

“And you?” she asked.

“I’ll search for a location spell. They don’t ordinarily work on ghosts, as we don’t have an actual physical presence.” As his hands began leafing through the book, she caught a glint of gold on his wrist. It felt familiar. Charles’ necklace. “It’s only a remote possibility, but I’d like to focus on that until we are safely back in the office.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you found his necklace!?” at the looks her loud tone of voice got, she got close enough to whisper. “I could have read that!”

“I doubt you could get anything substantial out of it, Crystal.”

“Why not?” she said back, before touching the metal and tapping into her powers.

She went still as her eyes clouded over. Edwin cursed under his breath as he waited for her. He smiled nervously at the man gawking at them, probably at ‘her’ vocabulary. (He rather thought this was one instance in which he could curse as much as he wanted and not feel any shame, in fact.)

“Fuck.” Crystal gave a full body shiver as she came back. “All I could feel was…cold. Wet, cold, dark…there was no end to it.” she murmured, tearing up a bit. “Do you think…?” Edwin cleared his throat.

“Let’s hope your reading was about his death and not his current predicament. He hates being cold.”

Both of them swallowed, thinking about the cheerful boy they loved plunged into an icy darkness by unfeeling hands. Without saying another word, they returned to their respective books, noting down anything that seemed useful. (Edwin didn’t even lecture Crystal for marking down the pages of the book. But then again, that edition wasn’t as old and therefore as delicate. Or so the ghost told himself, when he noticed and ignored it.)

—-- —-- —--

Many hours later, with dawn already about to rise, Edwin finally found what he needed. Crystal had fallen asleep a few hours ago, after compiling a list of possible beings that could have done such strong magic. To their dismay, witches had been at the top of the list, of course. Bloody witches. While Crystal cursed herself (and the universe) to sleep, the boy ghost kept going.

After revising every note he had taken for their latest case, and all the spells available to him; he’d reached the point where he had to admit he was not able to trace Charles. Even those incantations that should have worked didn’t. He felt he was at his wit's end.

So he took advantage of the relative solitude to look over their most obscure volumes. Those he and Charles had decided the living girl didn’t need to know about unless it was necessary, for the danger they represented. (Those texts resided inside a designated shelf, and were protected by powerful enchantments. Crystal knew not to touch them, but not much else.)

Danger was meaningless to Edwin now, though, without Charles by his side.

As he surveyed the contents, he felt in his core this magic was going to work for him. He may not be able to locate Charles, not even with this new magic…

But he could trace their latest ‘client’, the one that had led them to the old church, fought them and then vanished.

This man had a lot to answer for. And he would.

—-- —-- —--

Half a world (or just half a city, Charles certainly would not know) away, the other boy ghost broke the surface of freezing water, gasping. He dragged himself to the rocky shore, teeth clashing. The bloody witch’s magic had taken almost every single layer he had had on, leaving him only in his sodden jeans.

Never, not even while being attacked and then dying, had he felt more vulnerable. Nor as cold. He had to give her props, tho. He had frozen to death, and she had managed to beat that.

As he tried to prepare himself for another few hours in her dungeon, where he would be able to clothe himself and warm up only to be plunged back into the cold darkness, he wondered…

Was this what Edwin had felt, once he accepted the never ending cycle of his torture? This helplessness?

(Deep inside, he knew the answer was not. Because Edwin had escaped Hell on his own, with no one on his corner. He was the strongest person Charles knew. So he had to be strong now and not give up, because he knew Edwin and Crystal were out there, looking for him. He had no doubt.

(But it was so hard. So hard).)

#fear your sins not your monsters #painland week #dead boy detectives #dbda #painlandweek #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #fanfic #art #moodboard #day 1

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baambastic · 6 months

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Woo Be Upon Ye:

Medieval fantasy TimKon AU where Kon is a half-dragon prince of the realm who elevates commoner Tim to the Royal Guard on a whim. Also has Bart as an apprentice mage, Donna and Cassie as Themiscyran ambassadors, many of Tim’s school friends as Royal Guards, Wildcat as a mentor, the Daily Planet staff as the royal council, and more! Planned as part one of a four-part series.

Bernard Dowd vs. The World:

After hearing Tim’s many, many, many stories about his friends, Bernard realizes that almost all of Tim’s guy friends were hitting on Tim at multiple points. Failing to convince Tim of this, however, Bernard makes it his mission to obtain written testimonies from as many of said friends as he can to support his case. Such friends include Superboy, Danny Temple, Sebastian Ives, Lonnie Machin, and more.

Two for the Price of Them:

In this AU, Tim’s 100th cloning attempt is a success, and so clones of both Kon and Bart are created. Partway through the artificial aging process, however, an agent of N.O.W.H.E.R.E. (overhauled from the same metahuman-abduction organization from the New52) attacks. Tim is forced to go on the run and off the grid with the two clone babies.

The World Didn’t Stand Still:

When Kathy Branden plugs a Phantom Zone Crystal into her teleportal and visits the Phantom Zone, she comes back with a young Krytonian boy, Chris Kent, who claims to be the foster son of Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Effectively taking pre-boot Chris from after his debut story and transporting him into post-Rebirth continuity. Part of a planned trilogy of fics centered on Chris. Guaranteed that they will not end with Chris getting punted into the Phantom Zone for an unknown length of time.

The Dichotomy of Lor-Zod and Chris Kent:

In post-Infinite Frontiers continuity, Lor-Zod begins getting flashes of a life before his own, of a life where he was family to the loathsome Kal-El of the House of El. Lor’s father, Dru-Zod, convince Lor that his affliction must be the machinations of the Justice League’s Martian Manhunter, a psychic attack meant to weaken New Kandor for invasion. Along with Non as a chaperone, Lor-Zod goes on a quest to hunt the Martian Manhunter, though he’s really on the path to restoring his pre-boot history and identity, and all the internal conflict that comes from the contradictions between his two selves. Effectively how I would approach reconciling the current iteration of Lor-Zod with Chris Kent. Guest-starring Martian Manhunter and M’gann M’orzz.

The Cola Caper:

Upon hearing the devastating news that an embargo on the island nation of Santa Prisca will halt the distribution of Zesti Cola in the United States, Dick and Tim go on a mission to infiltrate Santa Prisca and abscond with as much Zesti as they can, and maybe even the secret recipe if they’re lucky.

Stray Little Tiger:

A Billy Batson-centric fic placed in a Stray!Tim Drake AU. Selina Kyle, on her way home from a caper, comes across a lightning-struck boy in an alley. Clearly homeless and in need of help, she decides to take the boy in until he’s healed, though the lightning seems to have severely damaged his vocal cords. She doesn’t know that this boy is Billy Batson, that he’s Captain Marvel, or that there’s something deeply wrong with the Rock of Eternity. This story is told mainly from Selina’s POV, with occasional sidetracks to Tim’s POV, but never Billy’s POV. Identity shenanigans, found family, magic problems, and more.

A Single Word Spoken:

A girl in the shape of a weapon is brought to Fawcett City, where she fulfills her purpose for the first and last time.

The girl who can no longer be a weapon hides from her wielder in an old subway and finds herself transported to a place of great magic.

There, the girl who wishes to be more than she was made to be finds a Wizard, who sees the girl for her heart and not for the blood staining her skin.

The Wizard teaches the girl a name.

Cassandra speaks her first word.

And in so doing, she speaks power.

Also featuring Cass navigating the anachronistic Fawcett City, befriending Billy Batson, codependency issues, an old man who’s also a Bengal tiger, ancient grudges, a different old man who’s barely qualified to give Cass life advice, and more.

Fake it For the Win:

While on a cruise, Tim and Kon decide to fake being married in order to compete on an onboard game show for married couples. When they actually win, though, they have no choice but to keep up the act for the rest of their trip. Fake dating to real dating, with a focus on comedy.

Crossroads of Fate and Eternity:

JLI-era fic with a couple of canon-divergent indulgences. Kent Nelson, helped by Khalid Nassour, decides to take Billy Batson under his wing as a student of the mystic arts. Magic lessons, Tower of Fate and Rock of Eternity shenanigans, Bromfield family stuff, an ancient entity and an ancient demon, philosophy, and other such tidbits.

A Little Ways Along the Family Tree:

When a villain travels through time to the future and accidentally takes Robin with him, Damian Wayne must team up with Mar’i and Jake Grayson to defeat the villain and return Damian to his proper time.

A High-Speed Romantic Tryst on an Open-Water Murder Shack:

When a couple of thugs steal a houseboat belonging to one of Tim’s marina neighbors while he and Bernard are hanging out, the two of them give chase in Tim’s own houseboat. Comedy, crack treated seriously.

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abiiors · 1 year

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haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night.

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face.

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years.

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going.

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes.

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her.

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle.

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later.

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia.

besides, there’s her to think about.

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning.

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while.

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat.

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun.

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it.

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late.

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view.

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night.

but back to now. back to here.

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily.

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here.

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves.

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.”

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely.

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles.

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage.

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression.

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second.

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it.

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat.

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi’. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter.

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention.

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you.

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem.

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her.

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry.

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family.

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl.

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however.

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry.

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting.

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink.

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience.

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy.

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks.

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him.

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore.

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths.

jarringly still, you smile back.

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

#matty healy x reader #matty x reader #matty x you #matty healy x you #haunt // bed

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byunpum · 1 year

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I can be a better father | Part 6 (what was i made for)

Pair: Tsu'tey x child y/n human x child spider human

Warning: kinda sad, comfort moments, jealousy, happy-sad ending (I don't know, a little sadness that heals the heart).

Note:Sorry if this request was not what you expected. But I wanted to write something sad, but a feeling of comfort.( I felt like crying for a while ) I still hope you like it. I send you a hug <3

Requests: (@applepie-macaroon)Hi! Can you maybe make a chapter for Tsu'tey and his kids when they reach a certain age and Norms offers Tsu'tey to make the kids avatars?

Avatar masterlist | Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Tsu'tey knew he had done a great job in the last few years raising his children. He had been the best father they could have, even to his little Y/N. But all his senses, and emotions were feeling threatened as he felt the tears of his little girl fall into his arms. As her little girl cried, as she screamed words of lamentation. She was making a mess, she was sad and frustrated. And he could do nothing, he could only hug her to his chest and try to bring her warmth in the cold laboratory. "Is unfair…unfair!!!" cries the girl, as she pats the floor. As she screams and tears continue to fall down her little cheeks.

A couple of days ago, Spider and Y/N had decided to visit their uncle Norm at the lab. According to lo'ak who had come to pick them up, Norm had some gigantic news for you two. It was obvious that the children were excited, norm always gave him the best gifts. He had taken care of both children in the first years of their lives, he was such an important part of their lives. Running as fast as they could, they opened the door to the lab. "Norm!!!!" "Uncle Norm" shouted the children, as they took off their oxygen masks. Norm welcomed them with open arms, hugging the children and giving them both a kiss on their cheeks. They were his babies, still were and always would be. Norm let go of the children, guiding them both to sit in chairs near the capsule where grace's avatar was.

"Hello…grace" says Y/N, pressing her face to the crystal. Grace had the opportunity to take care of Y/N for at least 2 months, just before the big battle happened. And she died. The little girl watched as the avatar body moved and its tail twitched involuntarily. For Y/N it was so impressive to be a na'vi, just like spider. But for her it was something she craved. Norm sits down in front of the children, and hands her some lollipops. Watching as the children begin to eat the candy, swallowing saliva to begin talking.

"You know… I have some news." Norm says, raising his eyebrows in a playful way. Hearing the kids laugh. "What is it?!!!" shouts spider, getting up on the seat. Norm tries to control him, but spider was too restless so he let him. "You know I think I figured out…how to make you two have your own body…avatar" Norm blurts out the news as if it were second nature. Watching as the kids were silent, until they started screaming and jumping up and down in excitement. Norm tried to calm them down, but again let the children express their emotions. This was big news. "How?" yells spider. "We have to tell daddy!!!" Y/N is so excited. After a few minutes of crazy questions, screaming, and them running around the lab like crazy. Norm was able to calm them down. "Hey…I have several tests to run, but I think it can be worked out. How about we go and look for your father?" says Norm, getting up from his chair. Walking towards the cominicator, which would transport him to his avatar. The kids already knew where norm was going to be, so they run towards the exit. Putting on their oxygen masks as fast as they could and running to where the avatars used to sleep.

Entering the huts, pushing some avatars. "Y/N watch out!!!" complains a female avatar, as she felt both children pushing her to get to where norm was getting up. Norm is surprised with how quickly both children arrive at his location, holding them in his arms. Beginning his way to where tsu'tey was. The man was with the sully family, neytiri asked him to help her prepare dinner for the day. While Jake took care of the other children. All the adults were in the hut. Talking and hanging out, until they heard norm's voice. Carefully entering the hut. He was holding both children in his arms, who wanted to get down quickly when they saw their father. Both children ran up to tsu'tey hugging him and began to tell him the great news norm had told them. " Dad…avatar" shouts spider, while Y/N shouted right in front of his face, excitedly. "HEY!!!BE QUIET" tsu'tey scolds them, as both children quickly sit down on the floor.

"I'm sorry…I was supposed to have talked to you first, but I couldn't hold on" norm says sitting down with the adults. The children get up from the floor, running to where their half-siblings were sitting. Jake had the little tuk in his arms, now sitting next to neytiri. Norm's words had filled the hut with curiosity. "What are you talking about? Avatars?" asks tsu'tey. Norm laughs a little and explains. "I think it is possible for spider and Y/N to have their own avatar body" says norm excitedly. Neytiri gets very happy, as does jake. Meanwhile tsu'tey had a serious expression on his face, it was one of confusion. He thought there was no need for his human-children to have a na'vi body. They were already considered na'vi, a couple of months ago they had their own initiation as members of the clan.

He had prepared them in every aspect, they know how to hunt, live and survive in Pandora. Just like any other na'vi. He found all this unnecessary. "Well…I just need you to take the children to the lab tomorrow, fasting. So I can run the necessary tests on them. And find out if they are compatible" norm keeps talking and explaining the whole procedure. As if tsu'tey had accepted everything, neytiri and jake listened to norm carefully. While tsu'tey was still tormented with the idea, suddenly getting up from the floor. "No…they are fine like this" says tsu'tey walking away from his friends, to look for his children. He picked up both children from the ground, ignoring the children's complaints. "Tsu'tey buddy this is important" says jake, but tsu'tey gives him a stern look. The least he had to care was him.

Spider never had his father present, so when tsu'tey adopted him. The shock was nothing unusual for him. But for Y/N, it was quite the opposite. Jake was her father, and the simple fact that she was human tormented the little girl. She wanted her father to accept her as she was, but the opposite was the case. When Tsu'tey adopted her, he healed and cured the wounds that the little girl had. She cried at night, looking for her father. She complained to tsu'tey why jake did not love her like her half-brothers. He was hurt by all this, and to see that now there might be a chance that jake could be the father he never was, breaks his heart. No one is going to take his little girl away from him.

Tsu'tey leaves the hut, walking quickly to his home. Entering and leaving the children on the floor. Only to sit in a corner, and bury his head between his legs. He felt ridiculous, this feeling of anger and sadness was killing him. Spider and Y/N stood there confused, why their father was acting this way. The little girl approaches her dad, she was now in front of him. Touching his knee, making tsu'tey look up. Seeing his little girl's giant eyes, they had a spark he had never seen before. He knew she was so excited, both she and spider wanted this so badly. More so her…but he was afraid. "Sempu what's wrong? Does your tummy hurt?" asks the little girl, reaching over to pat her daddy's stomach. Tsu'tey wipes her tears, while laughing. She always worried about him, even more than he did himself. "No… just is-sempu is sad," tsu'tey says. Taking the girl's arm, to sit her on his lap. Y/N settles on her father's chest. Spider approaches and settles next to tsu'tey. He hugs him more, so that he is very close.

"You don't want us to be na'vi?" asks spider, looking curiously at his father. Tsu'tey is speechless. If he had to answer him something and be honest he would say 'YES'. That he wants them to stay as humans, but he didn't have the heart to deny them a great opportunity. "It's not that…I'm just afraid of losing you…you'll be na'vi and maybe you'll forget about me" tsu'tey says his voice cracks. Tears form in his eyes, feeling Y/N wipe his face. "But sempu…this would make us closer, look" says spider getting up from the ground. "If I have my na'vi body I can have my ikran and I can go hunting with you, without the means of something eating me, and it will be great!!!!!" says spider pouting and jumping up and down. Showing his father everything he could do, tsu'tey laughs. "You're right…and you?" asks tsu'tey looking down at his chest, where Y/N was lying. Almost asleep. "I…mmm I could play with kiri climbing trees without falling and my friends wouldn't make fun of me for being human" says the girl, looking at her father.

Tsu'tey felt bad again…he was being selfish. His children had to go through things that a na'vi child normally didn't have to deal with. "Well…I hope you rest because tomorrow will be a great day" said Tsu'tey seeing the little faces of his children, so happy and excited. This was killing him, but it was the right thing to do…besides they deserved this opportunity. Tsu'tey took both children into his hands, cradling them to his chest. Hugging them, feeling them hug his torso. He did not want to let them go…not yet. If they converted to na'vi there would be no reason for them to need him, or so tsu'tey thought.

The next day the children got up very early, ready to go to the laboratory. Which tsu'tey hated, but he had to go with them. Both children ran as fast as they could, entering the lab to see norm. Who was already getting everything ready. "Hello!!!" says the man, taking spider in his arms. "Are you ready for the tests?" asks norm, watching as both children nod their heads excitedly. Tsu'tey said nothing, just sat in a chair big enough to support his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. Watching as Norm began the process.

Some blood samples, which were easy to take because the children were so excited they didn't even feel pain. Some saliva and some hair samples. The process went very fast, Norm organized everything, bringing the children closer to where their father was. Spider ran over and sat on tsu'tey's lap, while Y/N was holding his daddy's hand. "Well… the results will be ready in the afternoon, so I'll wait for them," said norm. The children became very anxious, and for the first time since norm came into tsu'tey's life he hated him. Why did he say that to some kids, they spent all day if they could go to the lab already. Even making them eat was a task, for they were so excited. Luckily for tsu'tey the hours passed quickly.

The children were running around the lab, waiting for Norm. He had told them he would be back in a few minutes. And it had already been about 30 minutes, which was making tsu'tey nervous. He hated being in this place, it was very cold and he felt cooped up. He didn't understand how his children liked it here. Norm entered the room, he had a rather strange smile on his face. Sitting down next to the family, he had some papers in his hands. Clearing his throat a bit. "Well…I'm starting with the spider tests" Norm says, watching as the boy came over and gave him his full attention. "Well…according to what I see here, you are a match for the na'vi DNA's we have here, so we can move on to the second phase" norm says, spider was already jumping for joy when tsu'tey raises a hand. To shut the man up, " second phase?" asks tsu'tey. Oh no…this man was not going to do strange things to his little boy.

"In the second phase…we will begin with the creation of the spider avatar embryo" says norm, he had forgotten to explain that part. Tsu'tey understands, and instructs Norm to continue. Norm puts the spider papers carefully aside. He pauses for a long moment, before looking at Tsu'tey. Tsu'tey sees that there is concern, and some certainty in Norm's eyes. Norm settles back in his seat. "Y/N…baby come here," Norm says, stroking the girl's face. She had those wide eyes, it hurt him what he was going to say but he couldn't do anything about it. "Baby… I swear I looked and I tried… …. But you're not a match" says Norm. Watching as the little girl walks away, and moves her head to the side. "I won't have my avatar?" says the little girl, looking quickly at her father. To look back at norm, he shakes his head in denial. The little girl's eyes began to fill with tears, as she ran off to the back of the lab. "Y/N!!!" shouts norm, trying to stop her. But tsu'tey touches his arm, and stops him. "I'll go…you stay here with spider" says tsu'tey getting up from the chair to go get his daughter. Spider hugs norm, he was crying a little too. He wanted his sister to have an avatar body just like him, what was going on.

The little girl was crying her heart out, stomping her little feet on the ground. As she squeezed a few strands of her hair, tears fell like a waterfall down her cheeks. Tsu'tey approaches carefully, kneeling down in front of her. "Baby…" speaks tsu'tey taking his daughter's arm, to now pull her towards him as he felt his little girl's tears fall into his arms. As his little girl cried, as she shrieked words of lamentation. She was making a lazy, sad and frustrated. And he could do nothing, he could only hug her to his chest and try to bring her warmth in the cold laboratory. "Is unfair…unfair!!!" cries the girl, as she taps on the floor. As she screams and tears continue to fall down her small cheeks. Tsu'tey strokes her hair, trying to calm her down. "What is unfair?" asks tsu'tey. Listening as his little one breathes to be able to speak.

"I just want-I want jake to love me as much as you do daddy…I want to be like my brothers. I don't want to be human, I DON'T WANT TO!!!" The girl's whimpers are heard all around. This breaks tsu'tey's heart, he realized that even his little girl was hurt…she was still broken. He carefully approached her and kissed her forehead. " what was i made for? Tell me sempu?" asked Y/N, her breathing was fast. Tsu'tey put a hand on his daughter's chest, to calm her down. And hugged her much tighter. Tears began to flow from his eyes, this was what he didn't want to happen…just because of this. After several minutes, tsu'tey takes his little daughter's hand…wiping away some tears.

"I can't tell you how you must feel…and I can't deny you from feeling the way you do now either. That's what makes you who you are… I can't say what you'll be in the future either. Or why you were born, but" tsu'tey pauses. Seeing how to let his words out. "But I know you will always have someone to care for you, to love you just the way you are. No matter what you are or what you will be" tsu'tey feels Y/N hug him tightly, burying her face in his neck. Crying with all her might. "I hope you understand that I will always be for you….always proud of you, always proud of what you are, my little one" tsu'tey says. Hugging his little girl tighter. Hoping that at least she finds comfort, in his words.

He didn't care how many times he had to lift his daughter, heal her and guide her again. But he would do it for eternity if eywa allowed it, he would always be there.

Y/N moves a little away from her father, while wiping away her tears. "Does your tummy hurt?" asks tsu'tey trying to cheer up her little one. Seeing that the little girl laughs a little. "My stomach hurts and here" she signals her heart, watching as her father places his hand on hers. Kissing her forehead.

"How about we go find your brother… let's go home and I'll make you the tea you like so much, does that sound good?" speaks tsu'tey, watching as a quality smile forms on his little girl's face. They both go to look for spider, watching as the boy hugs his sister. Wiping her tears as best he could. Tsu'tey knew that they would be fine…everything would be fine.

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deartemisss · 2 months

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i got a strange impression about the second season...... I think crystal might go to hell

her strange relationship with the demon david literally hints at a connection with an otherworldly force, namely Hell perhaps even scenes with women of her family tree are a cunning illusion of david that would allow crystal to feel like he is defeated and everything is fine (but this is not so!!!! he is an evil demon!!!! blah blah blah you will never defeat me crystal!! !)

well, niko will probably become a ghost like charles and edwin. imagine a season in which the guys are trying to help niko get used to her ghostliness and get crystal out of hell, while in the background the night nurse screams that you can’t just run to hell on business, and in the midst of all this madness, thomas tries to pull edwin out on a date. (I have another theory related to niko and the amulet that the tragic mick gave her. we didn’t fully understand the essence of this little bear figurine, and given its symbolism...... well, maybe it will become her guiding star on the way out of purgatory, where she probably ended up (like a star in the ursa major) or is it a small portal that transported her soul somewhere? who knows)

p.s. i want monty to escape from esthers cell and ask the king of cats to turn him into a human again. because, yes, human emotions are hard, but falling in love with edwin was definitely his most vivid, sincere, reverent and mind-blowing feeling, and it is too valuable to be lost again due to the ambitions of an evil witch

#dbd #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #the cat king #monty the crow #monty finch

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t0ast-ghost · 4 months

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Umm STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE THOUGHTS!!!!

You thought this series was dead and buried? Well maybe it is. This may stay in my drafts forever. But I suppose if you’re reading this it’s not.

Warnings for a flashing gif

and spoilers (obviously)

So enjoy and forward we go:

- They kinda just make you watch stars with nice background music for *checks time* two minutes and fifty seconds (no, there are no credits during this time)

- I’m so hyped for this, the credit music is so nostalgic and amazing

- Tron ass graphics <3

- Evolved Klingon design! Let’s go! Also they’re speaking Klingon which I think star trek is super proud of creating

- It’s so alien (as in the movie alien)

- Is that the lizard head rock from the Apple? No it’s Vulcan- damn what’d they do to Spock?

- It’s giving the dark crystal or labyrinth

- THEYVE GOT A VULCAN LANGUAGE?! I mean I knew they would but they created one for the first movie???

- When the Vulcan Master (it’s what imdb calls her) is reading Spock’s mind then the shot goes back to her face and she looks down and there’s a fucking vine boom and she smiles slightly at him like ‘THIS FUCKER IS HAVING GAY THOUGHTS’

- Jim is calling him <3

- It’s interesting how they pronounce Spock’s name differently

- Life is a Dream is my favourite song (It’s the one with the horns)

- Omg hi Kirk hi

- They gave him another Vulcan? Kirk must miss his husband so much

- imagine ten years after your favourite show ends, they make a movie and there are all your favourite guys again! I would have screamed

- Hiya Scotty

- Kirk looks so unhappy. Hmmm wonder why

- Aww this is such a cute conversation between Kirk and Scotty

- KIRK GETS TEARS IN HIS EYES SEEING THE NEW ENTERPRISE OMG. HE LOVES HER SM

- This is the slowest fucking shuttle ever

- I like how there’s just guys floating in spacesuits around

- ….Welp that’s over now. The ship has docked. Finally.

- oh the elevators are just voice controlled now. No handles.

- OMG HI UHURA!!! HI CHECKOV! HI SULU!!!

- Kirk’s about to go fire someone. This’ll be fun.

- Yeah Decker does not take this well. Kirk is just a petty bitch who loves his ship too much and definitely misses his husbands

- WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? Wha- who- no wonder people don’t like using transporters that’s horrifying

- OMG THATS JANICE RAND!!!

- Kirk has turned into the idiot admiral that he used to hate dealing with

- OMG HIIIII BONES HES GOT A BEARD. They drafted him???? Wait no. JIM BROUGHT HIM BACK hehe

- “Damn it, Bones. I need you. Badly!” He missed his husband so he made him come back to fight a war

- That was such a normal moment between Kirk and McCoy. Sooo normal. I’m normal about it. Sooo normal.

- THAT LITTLE DUDE IN SPACE JUST DID A FLIP

- hi bones hi

- “Jim. You’re pushing.”

- They gave McCoy a better perch, he’s got a railing that’s closer to Kirk now

- time to ask: what is happening

- “Tor-pe-do away!” The slow voice really added to that

- Why is McCoy just there on his knees?!?

- Bones is NOT happy to be here. This is why he divorced Kirk (he’s still married to Spock though)

- McCoy can see that Jim is being unreasonable. But what is that stance and why aren’t they looking into each others eyes? (Edit: not sure what stance I’m talking about but yeah, why aren’t they?)

- It’s been 50 minutes literally nothing has happened except reintroductions

- HI SPOCK HIII HES SO HOT WHATS HE DOING HERE?

- damn why’d Spock just ignore Chekov like that

- Jim is so desperate. He wants this man so bad. He’s like literally starry eyed

- For Chekov this is like the worst high school reunion ever

- HI CHAPEL HAIII

- damn why is Spock ignoring his husbands :(((

- Bones looks so sad. He missed Spock

- Kirk and McCoy are about to interrogate their long gone ex husband. “Will you please sit down.” This is pretty much exactly what it would be like if they got divorced and didn’t see each other for awhile. Spock is trying to separate his emotions from the situation, McCoy is trying to be playful but sneaks in a question about what he’s been doing, and Kirk just wants them back he’s so desperate

- Not gonna say what I’m thinking cause I think that would be disrespectful

- “I believe they may hold my answers.” “Well, isn’t it lucky for you that we just happened to be heading your way?” “Bones! We need him. I need him.” Jim if you say that while staring into Spock’s eyes it’s a bit queer (happy pride month)

- They got the new Apple watches

- Spock is pulling a Deanna Troi

- They brought back Spock to wear the finest eyeshadow and serve silent cunt

- Shapes and colours by the likes of which I’ve never seen!

- I like how Bones just came onto the bridge FOR NO REASON but to kinda look shocked when Kirk was about to do something silly

- Most of this movie feels like, ‘look at this cool set/effects thing for a very long time’ and they are cool

- I now truly understand what a ‘long shot’ is

- Uh oh Kirk. Your husband got zapped!

- huh? whuh? Why’d it take Ilia?

- Everyone that comes onto the bridge takes a second to go what the f-

- Wow that’s just a pussy- *gets schmacked*

- Did Spock just fucking blue screen?

- just noticed Kirk in short sleeves <3

- ILIA BURST THROUGH THE WALL

- Why did they replicate her into high heels

- I love Star Treks idea that love can bring anyone back. Like if anyone is dead and someone loves them enough there’s no way they’re staying dead. And if you bring up Tasha, technically she didn’t die right there and then. And if you bring up Jadzia, fuck you

- What is Spock doing, why’s he mutineering

- They successfully contacted Ilia. There’s something so sad about it being her but not her at all

- Omg. Spock why would you do that?

- “That’s Spock. Damn him! Bring him back here.” Gotta wrangle your husbands

- I was going to say something about pussy and then Spock said “penetrated” so-

- Pussy so good you get blasted backwards- I’ve got to stop

- Spock laughing omg omg

- jaw dropped. That was gay. That was so gay!

- I like how Kirk just has these two guys around to explain things to him

- “It knows only that it needs, commander, but like so many of us, it does not know what.” Do you need something, Spock? What are you trying to say? Do you need the love of your husbands?

- HES JUST GONNA BLOW UP THE SHIP???

- I got legitimately jumpscared by Spock’s tear

He’s really pretty tho and they’re observing him

- “Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?” This is the greatest moment in the whole movie thus far because it goes back to really what star trek is about. Talking about life through aliens.

- He’s bringing his husbands with him awwe

- woah how are they on top of the enterprise?!Okay I guess this is happening now

- VOYAGER??????????? Oh wait this is a real ship, isn’t it?

- So Decker is going to sacrifice himself to join with V’Ger, isn’t he?

- He rolls back to his husbands

- “As much as you wanted the Enterprise, I want this.” Jim did really want the enterprise, but he also just wanted love, same with Decker, they both just want their loves back.

- Shiny

- Kirk and McCoy staring, jaws dropped like, ‘What is this shit?’

- “And a lot of foolish human emotions, right, Mr. Spock?” “Quite true, Doctor. Unfortunately we will have to deal with them as well.” THEY’RE FLIRTING AGAIN YES!!!!

- It’s a little funny that Spock definitely arrived on the ship ready to stay. Like he cut his hair and everything just to see his husbands.

- “The human adventure is just beginning” what does THAT mean?

Well okay. Time to watch Wrath of Khan, I guess. I hear it’s better…

Masterpost

#star trek #star trek the motion picture #star trek tmp #james t kirk #spock #leonard bones mccoy #hikaru sulu #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #christine chapel #janice rand

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novantinuum · 3 months

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Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 4.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

Chapter 3 of 4! This time, my OC goes on a tour of Little Homeschool with Bismuth, and gleans a far clearer picture of the most pertinent events of recent Gem history.

Enjoy! <3

Same as the car ride into town, the warp stream sees fit to aggravate their motion sickness.

Jean doubles over with hands on wobbly, wobbly knees when they finally reach their destination, relishing in the familiar comfort of feet planted upon solid ground once more. (Because good grief, they were whirling about like a damn tumbleweed in there. Balancing themself all perfectly poised and upright like the Gems felt near impossible.)

“Hey, you good?” the purple one— Amethyst, they remind themself— says, reaching a solitary hand out as if to catch them should they stumble.

“Y-yeah,” they stutter, still breathing heavy. “Yeah… sorry, it’s just— hoo boy, that was a lot.”

“Steven took a while to get used to the warp streams as well,” Garnet comments, issuing a formal, solitary nod. “It’s only expected that an organic being would struggle to acclimate to a zero-G environment like that. You’ll learn to manage it. In time.”

Jean swallows hard, willing that awful nausea at the base of their esophagus to recede. With any luck she’s right. It’d be such an embarrassing shame if they couldn’t physically handle such a basic form of Gem transportation. They always knew the theory for how the warp pads worked— the inter-linked system of crystalline terminals providing near-instantaneous travel between distant locations— but it’s another thing entirely to actually experience it. The whole journey from the beach house to this other settlement took, what? Maybe five or so seconds? Goodness, such a swift means of transportation could entirely revolutionize life on Earth as humanity knows it. It really is too bad these warp pads only activate for Gems.

(And that… well… they disorient every last balance-keeping anatomical feature of the inner ear. They’re thankful for Garnet’s encouragement, they are— but as of this precise moment they can’t imagine how such a trip could get any better, motion sensitivity in mind.)

Then, fingertips tapping delicately against the crystal inlaid at their chest in pure subconscious habit as the post-warp jitters fade away, they cast their gaze upwards and out. Shift their posture upright once more. This place…

“I— I’m actually here,” they mutter to themself, drinking in the glorious sight of all the colorful architecture and the bounty of Gem students milling around the busy central square.

Little Homeworld, in the flesh.

They step off the warp pad and— eyes widened with childlike wonder— begin to map out the area in their head. Clustered beyond the gold-rimmed concrete platform wrapping around the warp are a number of small buildings, each one featuring a completely different architectural style. Some are cozy A-frames, some are suspended on stilts… some are fashioned from wood and stone, others from brick… there’s square windows, circular windows, half-moon windows, no windows—! One story, two story, many, many stories… name any exotic building feature, and this place probably has it represented somewhere. And it’s a very colorful town, too— Jean has never seen a neighborhood painted in such vivid, welcoming pastel shades.

They’re still drinking in the sheer exhilarating splendor of their new surroundings when a broad figure they don’t recognize rushes across the square towards their current group, the very image of a Gem on a mission.

She’s clad in overalls that look much like their own, sporting a friendly face and— most unusually, compared to the Gems they’ve seen so far— an inverted gemstone at her chest, one that spirals inwards towards her core instead of sticking out.

“Oh, thank goodness you lot are back!” she says, nudging one of her rainbow locs back behind her shoulder as she plants herself square in front of their three hosts. “I was beginning to wonder if I needed to start the seminar on your behalf.”

Pearl’s glance flits their way for the briefest of seconds, their fingertips threading together. “Apologies, we got a little caught up in… something important, shall we say.”

“Bismuth, this is Jean,” Garnet says, gesturing towards them. “They’re a prospective student and need a full tour of our campus and dormitory. Do you or Peridot have time to show them around?”

Her mouth screws up as she considers. “Well… pretty sure Peri’s busy with her horticulture class, so I guess I can do it. It sure beats all the busy work I had going on this morning. But wait, wait—” she interrupts her own train of thought then, her attention snapping right back to the other Gem— “hold up. You said prospective student? You mean this isn’t just a tour for the short-term exchange program?”

“Jean’s half-Gem,” Amethyst blurts out with clear excitement painting her tone. “Like Steven.”

Bismuth’s expression snaps from minor confusion to spellbound amazement almost faster than Jean is capable of processing. Her glance flits down, briefly hovering on the pale lavender-blue gemstone resting atop their sternum.

“Huh,” she muses out loud, balling her hand at her chin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t know that was possible.” Then, her focus pulling back up to meet their eyes: “But hey, we’ve plenty of time to talk shop about that later, right? It’s nice to meet you, Jean! We can begin that tour right now, if you’re ready. The rest of you guys, go on ahead. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sounds good,” they nod, tangling their own hands within the wide expanse of their pockets as they rock back and forth on their heels. “I, erm—” they wave an anticlimactic goodbye to the other Gems, who seem to be in a huge hurry to meet their previous engagement… golly, all of this is happening so fast— “can I just do one thing before we start, though?”

Bismuth hums an affirmative. “Whatever you need. We got all the time in the world.”

Inhaling deep through the slimmest slit of their lips, they pull their phone out of their pocket and sling a quick text to Dad, updating him on where they’re at. After all, warping straight to Little Homeworld itself was not in their plan for today… but oh, well. Life is full of surprises sometimes.

(A fact of existence that’s both a blessing and a curse.)

But with that little task out of the way, Jean follows their guide down the wide central path connecting to the main square, eagerly soaking up whatever knowledge she can spare. Bismuth, as it turns out, is the Gem who designed this whole campus. Thus for all the questions they might have, she’s got a pretty solid answer for most. Or so she claims.

From what they’ve seen of her so far, they’re apt to believe this, though.

“So… Little Homeworld,” they begin with a fair measure of timidity, skipping a little to catch up with this Gem’s large and energetic stride. “This place was only built in the last few years, yeah?”

She grins. “Yep! We broke ground in mid 2015, shortly after the start of Era 3.”

Their brow creases. “Era 3…?”

“Gem society’s current era,” she says in explanation, “which began when the Crystal Gems finally made peace with big Homeworld. You’ve… heard of Homeworld, right?”

“I mean… I always figured there was one, but that’s kinda it. I—” they trail off for a moment, their chest deflating under the humiliating weight of everything they’re unaware of. “To be completely honest, I’ve never even met any Gems until today. So there’s gonna be a lot I don’t know. Sorry…”

Bismuth merely waves their apology off. “Psssh, don’t worry about it. I can explain some of the basics to you after the tour. Plus, if you’re looking to enroll, you’ve plenty of time to learn all this stuff anyways. Now follow me, our first stop is just over here…”

The first stop she speaks of is the campus gymnasium. Jean’s interest is immediately piqued as they notice a few Gems sword fighting in one of the gym’s many courts. Bismuth— ever the keen eye— gives a fond laugh at their sharp swerve of interest, and dives straight into the meat of her tour spiel, beginning with…

Campus tour factoid number one: not only is this space utilized for structured classes (mostly swordplay and wrestling, which the quartzes are huge fans of), but students can even reserve courts for individual use. It’s not a super large gymnasium, but there’s plenty of space for sports outside, too. Apparently baseball (of all things) is a favorite pastime amongst Little Homeschool students.

Campus tour factoid number two: right next door to the gymnasium there’s a building with a bright, airy common area. Here, there’s tons of tables and chairs set up for students to play games and connect, a communal kitchen (mostly for the benefit of their human visitors, but also for Gems who wish to experiment with eating), and a mini library of human entertainment.

Campus tour factoid number three: when weather is permitting many instructors like hosting their classes outside, but they have plenty of physical classroom space too, over in the cluster of buildings nestled under the trees right across the main path. Some of the other amenities Little Homeschool boasts are a full art studio, an all-seasons greenhouse kitted out with the latest and greatest in hydroponics technology, and a records room with access ports to a whole wealth of Homeworld data banks for research and learning purposes.

The final stop on Bismuth’s tour is the dormitory, which is housed within the central tower.

“Now, many of the Gems who attend our school are at a delicate transitory stage in their lives,” she says, leading Jean through the front entrance of the dorm. “Plenty of them have never been apart from those of their own cut for more than a second, so the concept of ‘personal belongings’ and having a space that’s all their own is… well, for lack of a better term, alien.”

They nod as they follow Bismuth through the building’s lobby, each and every step bringing a new curiosity to gawk in awe at. Damn, this place is insane! The whole core of this tower is open space, with a set of transparent elevator-like pads stationed at the middle to ferry folks up and down from each level. There’s tons of greenery and light brightening up this expanse, and a number of railed walkways arcing across this central atrium from different angles every few floors. These walkways even have flowering vines hanging from the undersides, giving this building a strikingly organic vibe despite its concrete heavy architecture style. It all feels very… oh, what’s the style Dad always said he likes the aesthetic of, again—? Very, uh… very solar punk. Yes, that’s it. A sort of combination of solar punk and neo-futurism, what with all the bold angles and sweeping curves represented here.

A few Gems wave at Bismuth as the two of them pass by. She beckons them along towards the lift system.

“Thus, when building this school,” their tour guide continues, “we settled on dorm style accommodations, hoping that it could provide a nice balance between solo and community living for our students.”

“How many Gems are housed here, out of curiosity?” Jean asks, stepping up on the platform with her.

Bismuth taps her fingers against the diamond shaped screen inlaid in the half-wall that separates the lifts— probably imputing a floor— and the crystalline platform jolts to life. “Currently? About a hundred seventy or so,” she responds, turning back to face them. “And our roster rotates all the time. But the school itself serves plenty more— there’s a lot of Gems who warp in each day for their classes, and others who only choose to attend one or two sessions.”

They hum in acknowledgement, falling quiet to enjoy the smooth ride up to one of the upper levels.

The lift stops at floor seven, where their gracious host leads them towards what she describes as one of the few empty dorm rooms. (Or they think these are supposed to be the dorm rooms? These doorways don’t have any handles to speak of, which is a little confusing.) In any case, Jean’s brow arches in ample curiosity as they watch Bismuth press her palm flush against the adjacent panel much like one would use a hotel keycard. A dull chime rings out, and the entire surface of the door splits in two. They flinch a step backwards, wholly mystified. Wait, what?? But how did— there was no seam before, right? The doorway had no visible seam. They swear to the edge of the Earth it didn’t. So how could it just—?

Bismuth gives a fond chuckle, merely shuffling aside to invite them in to the room. “Trippy, right? This whole building’s a bit of an architectural labyrinth— held together with a whoooole lotta Gem tech, hah! So when you walk through that frame, you’re actually entering into something of a pocket dimension. It’s the only way we could scale up our operations while maintaining a slim footprint. The sunlight’s real, though,” she says, gesturing towards the wide window at the far end of the living unit.

Eager eyed, Jean takes a quick inventory of the space.

The room itself is fairly sparse, a blank canvas to be furnished and decorated however a Gem would prefer. But there’s some shelves built into the right hand wall at the far corner for storage of personal items, and a humble table and chair nestled by the window. Meanwhile, on the left side of the wall there’s a strange little person-sized inlet— a ‘cubby,’ of sorts— with another one of those touch screen panels next to it. They hum with intrigue, striding towards this mysterious furnishing feature.

“What’s this for?” they ask, the panel’s interface bursting to life under even the most feathery brush of their fingertips.

“Oh, that—?” she smiles. “It’s a newer contraption, actually… meant to mimic the unique conditions of any Gem’s exit hole.”

Jean purses their lips, absolutely nothing about the conclusion of that last sentence making sense.

Their what hole?? Oh gosh, it’s gonna take eons to figure out what even half of this stuff means, isn’t it?

Bismuth begins to speak further on the topic, delving into something more nuanced about these so-called ‘exit holes…’ something about rest, something about incubation, a kindergarten or whatever. Ugh. They don’t know. They don’t know. And even more frustratingly, for whatever goddamn reason it suddenly feels impossible to maintain focus on her words at all, their mind instead seeing fit to fixate on the daunting ravine that is their sheer lack of an even baseline understanding of Gem physiology, culture, and history. Here they are, trying to enroll in an all-Gem school, and they barely even comprehend the basic lingo. Oh god, she thinks they’re an idiot, doesn’t she?

They don’t even realize they’re clutching their arms around their midsection in the sheer strife of it all until the sound of their own name cuts through all the murk and mire that’s taken their body hostage.

“Jean… hey, Jean? You doin’ okay, there? D’ya want me to slow down?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just—”

Whatever lame, emotionally downplaying words they were about to utter die like snuffed cinders upon their tongue as they hazard a sheepish glance at the Gem and note the genuine concern weaving across her features. Jean sighs, dropping their arms.

“I think I need to go outside,” they admit, averting their gaze. “Everything’s just… a little overwhelming right now.”

“Hey, that’s all right,” she says, tone soft with understanding. “The rest of the tour can always wait. In fact… how ‘bout I take you back to my forge, and we can talk shop there, instead? It’s open air, and if you’re not up for talking, I can just show ya’ how I prepare billets for a while. At least until the others come back ‘round. That sound more your speed?”

“Yeah,” they nod, the barest hints of a smile returning to their lips. “Yeah, I think I can handle that.”

The walk back to Bismuth’s forge is pretty uneventful. There’s a few Gem students who wave a friendly hello to their guide as she leads them down the path, but beyond that their journey is cast in comfortable silence. And honestly, thank goodness for that. Jean is exceedingly glad to find another soul in this place who understands the importance of like… why a person might desire chatter-less companionship. Sometimes they just flat out don’t feel up to talking, y’hear?

Bismuth only breaks their quietude when the two of them step through the arched entry into her workshop.

“Here, you can sit, if you’d like,” she says, gesturing towards a squat wooden stool nestled at the corner of the space. There’s a table there as well, filled with a number of specialized metallic hand tools Jean can’t even begin to guess the names or uses of. Their Aunt Dee might, though. As a film costumer, metal work seems like something she would’ve at very least dabbled in before.

They nod in gratitude, eagerly situating themself on the offered seat and allowing their muscles to relax. Ahhh… it feels nice to rest after such a long walk.

Their gracious host rounds the room to grab a dense bar of metal from the healthy stash she’s got stacked on the shelves. As she crosses back around, her eyes lock on them immediately. Ever so subtle, her brows lift upon her broad forehead as she regards them once more, signaling her active sympathy.

“You ‘doin any better?”

They nod, small and meek. “Yeah, I think so. Sorry, about— well, sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be apologetic for, don’t you worry,” she says, laying the metal bar down on the working surface of her anvil. Then, with a faint laugh: “‘Sides, if you think you’re feelin’ out of your element, you should’ve seen my last tour group.”

“What would a Gem have to feel out of place about…?” Jean asks, more of an under-their-breath mutter than anything else.

Of course, Bismuth seems to glean the deeper meaning behind their hazy afterthought of a query anyways. “Oh, you’d be surprised. A lot of our students here have, well… a bit of a complicated past. A large number of them fought in the war for Earth, back when the Gem Homeworld was still trying to colonize it. And a good number of those spent a few thousand years trapped in a state of mental damage we Gems call ‘corruption.’”

Their features crinkle inwards as they ponder these facts. Hmm. ‘Corruption.’ Yet another term they’ve never seen show up in any of their research efforts. It seems the scant amount of information they’ve amassed about Gems up until now really was barely scraping the barrel. Was this their fault? Did they not dig deep enough? Are these pieces of their own history they could’ve learned years ago if only they applied themselves to their search harder? But in a true blessing of a breakthrough for an anxious wreck who’s starting to feel too ashamed to bother anyone with any more of their ignorant questions, their blank, deer-in-the-headlights gaze is obvious enough that their host clues in on the confusion swirling through their mind immediately.

“Ah, hmm. I guess you prolly don’t know what corruption is either, huh?” she muses, pressing a closed fist to the edge of her lips.

Jean flashes an apologetic smile. “‘Fraid not.”

She nods, and temporarily abandons her starting metal to the anvil so she can grab a second stool from the other side of the forge and sit herself down across from them.

“In that case,” she jabs a solitary finger in the air, “lemme just start from the beginning and give you the ol’ Earth rebellion primer…”

So, here’s what they glean from her narrative:

The Gem Homeworld was apparently once ruled by four Diamonds. The youngest of the quartet, Pink, had Earth given to her as her first colony. The colonization efforts went as planned for a good few hundred years… and then, a lone rose quartz and a pearl (the Pearl, the one they met just an hour or so ago, which makes a damn lot of sense from what little they’re aware of her), began seeding whispers of rebellion. It started small… isolated attacks on key settlements and construction sites, strategic disruptions of supply shipments and warp pad installations, that sort of thing. At first, the two of them only ever intended to scare the others off this planet— not wanting its ecosystem to be permanently destroyed via the lethal impacts of Gem production on the Earth’s soil chemistry. But over time, the rebellion blossomed to champion a cause far broader than what was originally intended:

Freedom for all Gems, no matter how disparate to Homeworld’s stringent ideals.

This was when Bismuth joined the fray, and where much of her recounting of this history is based on eye-witness experience.

Jean takes a moment to inquire a bit deeper about the destructive impact of Kindergarting before her story moves on.

“Essentially, Gemkind used to set up camp on a new planet, construct their colony, siphon every last scrap of life out of its crust until they’ve incubated all the Gems they possibly can, and then move right along to the next one,” Bismuth says, shaking her head with a tinge of shame coating her features. “An endless, soulless cycle, with countless dissatisfied Gems trapped at its center. That’s why the mere existence of Rose Quartz was such a shockwave at the time— ‘coz she was a Gem who outright defied her superiors’ demands at every opportunity. Rose, she—” her expression grows somewhat wistful with melancholy remembrance— “she taught me that my unique existence was precious, that I didn’t need to bend to Homeworld’s demands. That I could choose my own path in life. My own friends. My own loves… Stars, Rose Quartz was everything to me back then.”

Jean’s nose crinkles as they ask the obvious next question. “But…?”

Bismuth sighs as she slumps forward on her stool, age-old exhaustion evident within her tone. “But war is complicated. And so are Gems. I made a few choices I now regret, and got bubbled over it. Missed a few thousand years ‘coz of that. And by the time I was let out, the war was long over. The Crystal Gems won, but… only by a technicality.”

“Bubbled?” they inquire, tilting their head.

“Hah,” she laughs, low and half-hearted. “Means my form was dissipated in combat, and my gem was stashed in a bubble. It’s a long story. Don’t really wanna hash through the details of it now, if that’s okay.”

Jean nods, more than emphasizing with that sort of sentiment. There’s tons of awkward stuff in their past they’re not super interested in discussing with others, either. They gesture for her to continue.

Bismuth moves on to explain how— once she was freed from her stasis and allowed to reform— she discovered that all the Gems left behind on this planet were caught in a massive retaliatory attack by the Diamonds.

“They believed Rose Quartz shattered one of their own,” she shrugs. “Pink Diamond— the appointed leader of this colony— was lost during the war. So the three who remained traveled to Earth and tried to wipe every last Gem off its surface… their own soldiers included. They assumed they destroyed all of them.“

“But they were corrupted instead,” Jean completes, remembering that specific word Bismuth had used earlier. “Which means—?”

“—that their minds were thrown into a jumbled, primal state. Unable to retain a humanoid form, or even communicate in words. To use your human lingo, it’s as if the sheer brutality of the Diamonds’ damage reduced them into monsters.”

“Hmm. So how were they healed?”

“Ah, that was all Steven’s doing. I’m assuming you already know about Steven—?”

They nod. “I’ve seen his adverts,” they put it lightly.

That’s— of course— only the tip of the iceberg. They choose not to mention the ridiculous sum of time they’ve spent combing the internet for every last scrap of information they could feasibly grasp on Beach City, Steven, and the other Gems. It’s not clear yet what this particular Gem would think about such an obsessive level of study… whether she’d admire the initiative or resent them for sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Alright. Now, here’s where things get a bit topsy-turvy,” Bismuth says, a bit of a chuckle coloring her tone. “So, Steven’s the half-human son of Rose Quartz, right?”

Yep, that tracks. None of Jean’s sources ever stated this so bluntly, but it meshes with the vague timeline of events they’ve pieced together… what with Rose’s disappearance and Steven’s arrival on the scene years later.

“Well, back when he was a kid, this whole bombshell secret ‘bout his mother comes out. I wasn’t there for the reveal,” she shrugs, gesturing wide with her palms spread open, “and only learned about it secondhand, but— basically, all along, Pink Diamond and Rose Quartz were the same person.”

Their brows scrunch inwards. “Wait, what?”

“Wild, right?” she says with noted amusement. “All those years of chaos and turmoil… when the whole time, Rose was simply waging a false war against herself. I’m sure you’ll learn plenty more about this era of history in time, but the important part is that this makes Steven one of the Diamonds. Which gave him the unique authority to negotiate with them for not only the complete liberation of Earth, but also the healing of all the corrupted Gems. Such a cure took the powers of all four of them to achieve. So, hah—” Bismuth cracks a half-hearted, wistful smile— “as much as it really cut my facets down a size at the time… in the end… making peace with Homeworld was literally the only option.”

Jean continues to muse on the broader implications of all this newly learned history as the Gem moves on to describe how Little Homeworld came to be. (Which— they’re ashamed to admit— they’re only halfway paying attention to.) So, Steven’s like… what… royalty, then? Some sort of Gem prince? It certainly would explain the sheer level of political sway he had in setting up this school, and the almost reverent way people here have spoken of him so far. Still, it’s not what they expected. Online documentation on Gem matters is still very sparse, yes, but nothing they’ve read thus far even remotely mentioned the existence of ‘Diamonds,’ let alone Steven’s innate connection to them. They can’t help but wonder if there’s any specific reason why.

Their thoughts migrating to related horizons, they inquire more about the rest of the Diamonds… are they still in some form of power today, they ask?

Bismuth shakes her head no. “Not entirely. It’s, ah… it’s complicated. We’ve elected leaders to aid in governing each of Homeworld’s planets, but… it’d be foolish to claim that the Diamonds don’t still hold a certain sway over a vast percentage of Gemkind. Our society’s entering a vital transitional state right now, shall we say.”

“Makes sense,” Jean nods.

Especially with how long-lived Gems are, though they elect not to say as much out loud. They have no idea if the topic of age is as sensitive for Gems as it can oft be for humans.

“But despite any lingering influence they may hold, they’re not ‘in charge,’ so to speak,” she continues, throwing up air quotes as emphasis. “Not as they once were. Everything’s different now.” Bismuth shifts back upon her stool as she pauses in her lesson, allowing the rejuvenating relief of those three little words to sink in for the both of them. A serene, content smile rises upon her lips. “After a lifetime of struggle, Gems are finally free to be their own selves in this era. We can finally rest.”

Their host meditates within the cusp of this welcoming truth for a few moments, staring off towards the open air doorway at their right to watch a fair handful of residents pass between activities. She closes her eyes, her features aligning into an almost unparalleled show of utter tranquility. Then, bobbing her head a little as she wrestles through the last few items on her laundry list of mental troubles, she clasps her hands upon her knees and pushes herself wholly upright once more.

“Anyways, that’s probably enough history for today, yeah? Hah, wouldn’t want to spook ya’ away with all the heavy stuff before you’ve even enrolled.”

“No, please, don’t worry ‘bout it,” they say with a slight laugh, shaking their head. “I thought it was pretty interesting, really.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it!” she chimes, pacing back across the forge to her anvil. “We can talk shop in more detail when Pearl’s back, but— should you be interested in becoming a student long-term— my plan is to retrofit one of those dorm rooms you saw with a kitchenette and a bathroom, as well as shuffling around some of the furnishings to make space for a bed. Does that sound suitable for your needs?”

“More than suitable,” Jean chimes, folding their hands in their lap.

“Good, good…”

Bismuth shines her a bright, enthusiastic grin, and picks up that dense hunk of metal she fetched minutes earlier.

“So… with all that said and done—” in a flash of brilliant light, she morphs her hand into a broad mallet— “d’ya think you’re still up for a lil’ demonstration?”

#su #su future #(as in... it's Post that)#bismuth #garnet #amethyst #pearl #jean maverick #ocs #su fanfic #su oc #echoes of chalcedony #my writing stuff

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whyreyousoobsessedwithme · 3 months

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507-508 spoilers + theories

Does this mean that Crystal didn't actually cut ties with Charles, he just made it seem like she did, maybe for her safety? Why else is she so shocked?

Also, there was no reason to put her ass in a towel. Bruh

No dream is worth the shit you assholes put others through.

I only feel bad for Yuseong because he clearly isn't mentally mature.

I'm pretty it was here when gun snatched the box.

I still think it was stupid to carry the paper so obviously, like, who wouldn't suspect a safe? And why would they make the most obvious ppl transport it too?

Plot twist, the safe was empty all along, and Vin was the one bringing it over.

Why are they so obsessed with finding out who she is?

Leave her alone!!! STAY AWAY from her!! Nobody likes you!!🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

Ptj just had to sexualize an injured woman by making the dress slit higher!

Yeah, you tell them dick inspector.😡

Why does she look more scared of Tom than the brothers? Tom, what did you do??💀

Serves him right, he should know not to touch a black person's hair.

Why did ptj draw his hips so slim here, slimmer than he usually draws men? Bro look like a twink, dg has competition🫢

Where tf is ryuhei, wasn't he there with Yuseong?

And why tf is big Daniel not coming?

I'm so sick of gun, someone please put him down.

#lookism #lookism thoughts #lookism spoiler #lookism spoilers #lookism theories #lookism theory #lookism ptj

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tgmsunmontue · 4 months

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Where do I know you from? 10/10

Hangster crackfic (that kind of turned serious and then hurt-comfort). There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN PART EIGHT PART NINE

PART TEN

“Well, that made for a more dramatic exit than they needed,” Six grumbles, but he’s already cleaning up the broken teacup. Maverick is definitely crying, his grip on Rooster white knuckled, but Penny has stepped in close, and Rooster is handing him off, his own eyes red. Jake turns away sharply, doesn’t want to be caught watching such a vulnerable moment, even if a version of himself was at the center of it all. Not that he’s there anymore and he wonders what made him disappear. He’ll ask, if the opportunity arises.

There are only four other pairs of Rooster-Jakes now, Three, Five, Six and Eight. It’s far more manageable to keep track of, and he’s kind of missed what has happened with everything that’s been going on. He can ask some of the others later, because he can see Halo and Phoenix gathering their things, all the female versions of himself and Rooster have also apparently gone and the idea that there are female versions of himself is still unsettling.

“We’re heading out. You want a ride?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Thanks though. Javy’s here.”

“This has been… educational. Good luck with the ones that are left…” Phoenix says, eyes quickly darting around the Hard Deck before settling back with Jake. She slaps his arm and then walks away and he shrugs, looks between Jakes Three and Five and Jake suddenly misses Thirteen, despite not even knowing him very long. He rubs at his face, because he’s trying to be more honest with himself. He wants a Rooster that would be like Thirteen. With him. He’s not going to get it, so he shoves the want down and does his best to ignore it, walks over to Roosters Three and Five, who are both still working on their spreadsheet.

“You planning on leaving your spreadsheet?” Jake asks, and he’s only half teasing, because now that he’s feeling less overwhelmed he’s interested in taking a look.

“I took photos of it. And made Jake take photos. And then we emailed the photos to a couple of different addresses. Plus I took some photos of other stuff earlier,” Five says, hitting the palm of his hand with his phone.

“Did you do that too?” Jake asks Three, because he feels like it’s something he’d do.

“Uh, no. I don’t have a phone with me,” Three says, and he’s shooting his Jake a quick look, like he’s worried he’s about to get an earful.

“Did you lose it or just forget it?” Jake Three asks, looking resigned and also softly amused and Jake shoves the wanting down further.

“Pretty sure I just forgot it and it’s at home.”

“Because being transported to an alternate universe is an acceptable reason to lose your phone,” Three’s Jake says dryly, and Three grins widely, then he’s leaning forward and pecking a kiss against Jake Three’s lips and then they’re gone. Just like that. Five blinks and looks at Jake.

“I don’t think he remembered that would happen when they kissed…”

“They’re back where they belong,” Jake says, and Five looks a little bereft, like he’s maybe lost a friend, and he guesses him and Three did pretty much solidly stick together the whole time they were here. It’s only been a couple of hours though.

“So, we don’t know what’s going to happen when we’ve all gone back to where we’re meant to be. Whether you’ll forget this ever happened, or it’ll become a hazy memory, or remain something weird and crystal clear. It’s not like we have any experience to call on, and the ones who have maybe had the closest have already gone back…” Bob says and Jake blinks at him and does a little double take.

“You… know about this type of stuff?”

“I like sci-fi,” Bob states, and both Rooster Eight and his Jake are grabbing Bob in a hug, telling him how he’s just as great in their universe, before turning to Jake.

“We’re going to head out. Home? Away? We’re going to go,” Eight says, and his Jake is nodding, but not before he grabs Jake in a tight hug, words whispered in his ear he’s a stubborn shit but he wants to be taken care of just as much as you do. He pulls back and nods once, sharply and Jake finds himself nodding back. That message, coupled with Thirteen telling him to be patient is making him think that maybe he just needs to dig his heels in and out-stubborn Rooster. He has always enjoyed beating him at things.

Then Rooster Eight and another version of himself are kissing; it’s not a soft peck like Three exchanged, but a tongue filled exchange with hands on faces and then they’re gone and Jake is left with Five and his Jake, the spreadsheet clutched in his hand. Six is at the bar talking to his Jake, along with Maverick and Penny. Rooster, his Rooster, is walking toward him, looking hesitant for some reason and Jake quirks an eyebrow and tries to smile, although feels it probably looks pained. He moves away from the others, wants to have the chance to talk to Rooster without anyone else listening in.

“Hey… how does it feel to be the center of a tear between alternate universes?”

“Really fucking weird. You seem to be taking this whole thing better than me. Looking out for everyone and making the best of this…”

Jake shakes his head, because this isn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination, and he can’t imagine making light of any of this, not now.

“Just doing my level best. I’m… sorry about the photos. I didn’t think he’d be able to show you photos.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Rooster says, shaking his head. “It’s okay. It was… weird. But good. They’re my parents, but they’re not my parents you know? But seeing them in those photos? Older and happy? It’s nice to have that image at least, not just my imagination of what they might look like.”

“Yeah…” Jake says, thinking of the photo he saw of Laura. “I know what you mean.”

“That Hangman, the one that was here by himself…”

Jake swallows roughly and nods, realizes he might not even have to ask, that Rooster might just offer up what he might have said to him. The other version of him.

“He… he’ll be okay. I told him that I didn’t want him to waste the life he had simply because mine had been cut short in his universe. That as annoying as he is I wouldn’t have wanted him to drown himself in guilt or stop living. That the mission had already taken two lives and it didn’t need to take a third one.”

“Jesus Rooster.”

“Then I kissed him and he… said thank you and then kind of… melted away.”

Jake sucks in a breath, throat tight as his eyes prickle as he thinks about what could have been and he’s reaching for Rooster and just wrapping his arms around him into a tight hug, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Losing you was not an option. Not for me.”

“You think it was for him?”

“No. Not at all. He’s unlucky. All it would have taken was a buckle not already done up and I would have been too late as well. I didn’t need to see dozens of different versions of you to know that I’m lucky to have you alive.”

“Oh…”

He pulls back from the hug, not surprised to feel Rooster already withdrawing.

“Leave them alone you idiot! They’re finally talking!”

“It feels rude to just leave without saying goodbye!”

“If anyone is going to understand, it’ll be alternate versions of ourselves.”

He glances over his shoulder and Six and Jake-Six are standing there awkwardly, clearly wanting to go and Jake steps up and grabs his counterpart in a tight hug, glad when he’s hugged back just as tightly.

“Don’t forget to tell her.”

“I won’t, not matter how unhinged it’ll make me sound.”

“Not out of the ordinary for you then,” Jake says to himself, because his sisters give him shit and this Jake has those same sisters. His answering grin is warm, then he’s offering his fist for a fist bump and Jake knocks against it. Watches as they kiss and turns to find Five watching it all, his arms around his Jake, chin almost resting on top of his Jake’s head he’s just that fucking tall. His expression is a little sad and Jake realizes that they’re the last ones left.

“This whole experience has been fascinating. No idea what caused it but I look forward to reading into potential theories when I get home…” Five says, and then he’s hugging Jake, and he tucks himself under Five’s chin, just to see what it would feel like. When he glances at Jake Five he seems to know what he’s thinking and is looking smug. Ass.

“Lead good lives. We wish you all the best…”

He doesn’t have time to say anything before Five is ducking his head down to kiss his Jake firmly and then they’re gone as well. He’s the only Jake left, and Rooster is still there, also looking a little rattled and he knows the universe is trying to tell him something, and if not the universe then all the other versions of himself have told him. He has to try again.

“Do you think the universe is trying to tell us something?”

“I think multiple universes are trying to tell us something…” Rooster says, his body tense and Jake blows out a long breath.

“On the carrier, right after the mission… What did you think I wanted?” The look on Rooster’s face is incredulous, like he can’t believe Jake is dumb enough to be asking such an obvious question. “Humor me. What do you think I wanted?”

“Sex.”

Jake winces, because he can appreciate why Rooster might have thought that. His relief and joy that he’d saved him had been overwhelming, forcing him into uncharacteristic actions and kissing Rooster in the sickbay of all places. He hadn’t exactly stopped to talk. He shakes his head, looks away, can tell Rooster is studying him but doesn’t want to meet his eyes, feels far too raw after everything that has happened in the last couple of hours. Then Rooster is speaking.

“I was high on pain meds, concussed, thought my godfather had died, accepted that I was going to die over and over and then lived through it every single fucking time… I wasn’t ready to get on another rollercoaster ride, especially if it was only going to be over in a matter of minutes.”

“Wasn’t just sex…” Jake says, voice quiet. “Isn’t just sex. What about now? You want to take that rollercoaster ride?”

“Depends. Am I getting on it alone?”

“You were never getting on it alone.”

“Oh.”

Jake looks then, Rooster is watching him, eyes hopeful and he wonders if seeing all these versions of themselves coupled-up is making Rooster more open to considering and accepting Jake at face value. There might not need to be any need to dig his heels in and needing to out-stubborn him at all. Rooster is stepping into his space and kissing him and Jake revels in it. The scrape of his moustache, his hands on Jake’s waist tugging him closer, tongue licking into Jake’s mouth and he presses back. Lets his own hands go, one reaching for Rooster’s curls, running through his hair and then just cradling the back of his head, other hand curving around the swell of an ass cheek. Then there’s a cough and he pulls back an incremental amount to see Bob and Maverick looking at them but also looking uncomfortable.

“You two are actually going to need to drive home. No magical transportation for you, you’re already in the right universes. Just… this isn’t the place.”

“Come home with me?” Rooster asks, and Jake nods, finally feels like he’s in the right place.

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfic #where do I know you from?

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lendeah · 8 months

Text

UNBOUND

Chapter 3: memories, premonitions

series masterlist

Summary: Neri continues to face the complexities of her combined spell, prompting her to once again seek assistance from Gale. In the process, her mentor opens up about the grim reality of his condition, revealing that their time together may be more constrained than Neri had anticipated.

Pairing: Gale x OFC!Reader

Tags: Slow Burn, Mentor/Protégé, but everything is healthy I promise, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Gale (Baldur's Gate), Gale Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate), Professor Gale (Baldur's Gate)

Word count: 5.9k

AO3 LINK

Oof this one was long. Anyway, it's not proofread so it may contain mistakes! I will try to revise as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy :)

The darkness was all encompassing, the threads of magic tugging at her from every direction. The air was thick with bursts of energy, swirling and dancing around her like moths drawn to a flame. Her concentration remained fixed on one singular object in her mind, its form and power consuming her thoughts. She could feel its pull, its call to her own magical abilities. With determination and focus, she reached out and whispered the incantation, "Quaerere obiectum cum porta" as she gestured with her hands the different symbols.

As Neri opened her eyes, the room was silent. She could sense the powerful flow of her weave energy as it manifested in front of her. A dimensional door had materialized, pulsing with vibrant purple hues. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Neri stepped forward and placed all her faith in this creation of hers. The feeling of being transported through dimensions was disorienting and nauseating, but soon enough she landed on solid ground once again.

She looked around at her new surroundings, taking in the empty tabern with its wooden furnishings and dimly lit lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The only source of noise came from a gnome bartender who was wiping down glasses behind the counter, and two other patrons - an orc and a human woman - sitting at opposite ends of the room. The three of them were looking at her with shocked expressions, their jaws dropped in disbelief.

"By Odin's beard, 'tis high time I lay off the ale," the orc muttered, breaking the silence.

Neri couldn't help but grimace. "My apologies," she said, feeling embarrassed. "It seems like I ended up in the wrong place."

After a small curtsy, she retreated back into the swirling portal and landed with a thump on her bedroom floor once more. Letting out a sigh, she began the process of closing yet another unsuccessful interdimensional door.

"Where was it this time? A Duke's mansion? The middle of the sea? The astral plane, maybe?"

Eiruk's voice interrupted her thoughts. Neri looked up to see him sitting on her bed, tossing the small planet-shaped crystal between his hands.

With a grunt, she brushed off her robes and grumbled "A tabern."

The boy's laughter resembled that of a hyena's as he responded,

"Wait, really?! That's hilarious. Maybe I should be trying this portal spell too. It would definitely make sneaking out much easier."

Eiruk's comment earned an eye roll from Neri as she took a seat on her bed next to him. She was still disappointed about their failed attempt at finding the crystal that he now held in his hand.

"It's not funny," she pouted. "I really thought I had it this time. Where were you, anyway?"

He simply shrugged. "I was holding it in my bedroom. I came to check when I felt the disturbance in the weave."

Neri rested her head on her hand, her gaze fixed on the ball in Eiruk's grasp. "I can't believe I can't even locate this object in the neighboring room," she muttered to herself. "How in the nine hells am I supposed to find three stones that could be hidden anywhere along the Crionthar?!"

He chuckled and tossed the crystal back to her. "Well, as much as I enjoy watching you fling yourself into different dimensions, I think it's time we take a breather."

She let out a frustrated groan. It was true, she had been searching for that cursed piece of crystal all over the academy for the entire day, simulating it was a Netherese stone, and trying to open a safe passage to it.

However, all her efforts had only resulted in opening gates nowhere near it. Hells, the doors hadn't even lead inside the tower.

"I can't stop now," she said, running a hand through her hair. "I need to make this work. I have to."

Eiruk looked up at her with concern in his eyes. "You've been obsessing over this for days now," he said softly, "why is it that important anyway? You have a whole year to finish the research."

No, I only have three months, she thought to herself, but instead Neri avoided Eiruk's gaze, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from him. She couldn't risk involving him in her family matters, especially when he was already dealing with so much helping with the recovery of the Academy and his own research project.

"It's... complicated," she finally said, not meeting his eyes.

Eiruk's expression turned understanding and he gave her a sympathetic smile. "I won't pry," he said softly. "But just know that I'm here for you if you ever need to talk."

Neri felt her heart clenching with guilt at his words. She mustered up a smile and responded, "Thank you for understanding."

He grinned, reaching for her hand. "I'll be there, no doubt about it," he said before smirking. "But don't think you can use emotional talks to get out of going to the city with me tonight."

She let out a frustrated groan. "I really can't..."

But Eiruk stood his ground. "Consider it my payment for helping you throughout the day," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Despite her efforts to resist, she couldn't help but chuckle at his determination.

"Okay, but we have to be back before the sun sets. And please don't try to charm any gnomes this time. I can't afford to get kicked out of another place."

Eiruk stood with a jump and extended a hand to her. "It's a deal," he said with a grin.

She took it and pulled herself off the bed, her muscles protesting from the day's exertion. She had been so focused on her magical training that she'd forgotten about the physical toll its continuous usage could take.

As Neri and Eiruk made their way through the halls of the academy, Neri couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement at the thought of taking a break from her research. Eiruk's cheerful chatter about how they never did anything fun only added to her growing anticipation.

They soon reached Corlin's room and found him hunched over a pile of scrolls on his desk.

"Corlin!" Eiruk exclaimed, startling the blonde out of his concentration.

Corlin looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What is it? Did you get into another mess, Eiruk?" he asked, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Ugh, always thinking the worst of me Cor! No, we're going out for some fun tonight," Eiruk said with a grin.

Corlin stared at her for a moment before breaking into a rare smile. "Did you agree to this, Neri?"

She nodded, smiling back at him. "I could use a break from all this research and magic," she said.

Corlin's smile widened. "Then count me in."

The trio made their way out of the academy sneaking into the bustling streets of Waterdeep. If Vanja knew of their whereabouts she would no doubt be pissed at them for not getting enough rest to be centered in their resposabilities, but she had never caught them before. As they made their way out of the academy and onto the bustling streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. It had been so long since she'd been out for fun in the city, let alone at night.

Eiruk led the way, his footsteps light and confident as he weaved through the crowds. Corlin followed close behind, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any potential dangers.

Neri stuck close to her friends, taking in all the sights and sounds around them. The smell of sizzling street food filled her nostrils, and she could hear the lively chatter of merchants and patrons alike. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm glow over everything.

As they made their way deeper into the city and into the North Ward, Eiruk suddenly stopped in front of a tavern with a boisterous sign that read "The Grinning Lion."

"This is it!" Eiruk exclaimed, looking back at Neri and Corlin with a grin.

Corlin raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Are you sure this is where we want to spend our evening? Only boring young nobles frequent this place."

Eiruk scoffed. "Come on, Cor! Don't judge a book by its cover. The Grinning Lion is one of the most lively and entertaining places in all of Waterdeep."

"I'm not one for lively and entertaining," Corlin muttered, but he followed Eiruk and Neri inside nonetheless. The interior of the tavern was just as lively as its exterior. The air was thick with the smell of ale and sweat, and the sound of raucous laughter filled Neri's ears.

Eiruk led them to a table in the corner where they could see everything going on without being too conspicuous.

"Let's start with some drinks," Eiruk said, moving over to the bar to order.

As they waited for their drinks, Neri took a moment to observe Corlin. He looked brighter than usual, his blue eyes glittering with excitement. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of how much he had grown since they first met.

Back then, he was barely a teenager – all lanky limbs and a mess of golden locks covering his eyes. But now, as she watched him scan the room with a sense of wonder and curiosity, she saw a handsome young wizard, full of potential and promise.

"Hey, stop staring," Corlin said with a smirk as he caught her looking at him.

Neri rolled her eyes. "I can't help it. You are so grown up, Cor."

Corlin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm not that different, Neri. Just a bit taller," he murmured.

"Oh, Corlin, you have no idea," Eiruk said as he placed three tankards of ale on the table. "You should see how much she used to mother you when we were growing up."

Neri glared at Eiruk playfully before taking a sip of her ale. It was bitter and strong, but she enjoyed the warmth it brought to her body. They laughed and clinked their mugs together, their drinks sloshing onto the wooden table. Everyone around them was caught in their own world of joy and laughter, it felt so liberating to be just one amongst the crowd, unnoticed and unburdened.

Eiruk was in full form tonight, delighting them with his amusing anecdotes and witty remarks. Corlin listened attentively, laughing heartily at Eiruk's recounting of an incident where he accidentally turned himself into a sheep during his first year at Blackstaff Academy. Neri watched them both, suddenly overcome with affection for the two who had become her family in all but blood.

Neri's laughter ceased abruptly as a sharp chill ricocheted down her spine. She spun around in her seat, scanning the bustling crowd until her eyes landed on a familiar face - her father's. Her heart pounded in her chest as their gazes locked, and she didn't know whether to run or stay frozen in place.

Panic set in, and she quickly turned back to Eiruk and Corlin.

"We have to go," Neri said urgently, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eiruk looked at her in confusion, clearly a little tipsy. "What's wrong?"

Neri didn't want to cause a scene, but she knew they needed to leave before it was too late. "My father is here," she said, her voice trembling.

Corlin's expression turned serious as he glanced around the room. "Shit. Don't worry, we can-"

But before he could finish his sentence, Neri's father had already made his way to their table.

Her father's tone was disapproving and frigid as he asked, "So this is how you choose to neglect your responsibilities?"

Neri felt a tight knot form in her stomach as she stood up to face him, Eiruk and Corlin following suit. She couldn't believe this was the first time he was adressing her in months.

"Father, I...I just wanted to have a night out with my friends," she tried to reason, but her father's stern expression didn't waver.

Arsten Thunderstaff glanced back and forth between her and her friends, a disapproving look on his face. "You have responsibilities to attend to, Neri," he scolded. "And it doesn't involve indulging in drinks and wasting your time with these...commoners. That's not why we allowed you to attend Blackstaff Academy."

Eiruk bristled at the insult while Corlin stepped forward, ready to defend Neri. But she placed a hand on his arm, silently pleading for them to not make the situation worse.

"Father, they're my friends," she said firmly. "And I don't see why I can't spend my free time with them."

Her father's gaze hardened once again, "

"Your leisure time should be devoted to preparing for your future role in our esteemed wizarding family, as that is more important than anything else. You are a valued member of one of the most respected families in all of Waterdeep, Neriyra," he reminded her sternly.

"I know that," Neri replied through gritted teeth, struggling to keep her composure, "you remind me of it every damned day."

"Then start acting like it," Arsten said firmly before turning on his heel and walking away.

Neri stood frozen, watching her father getting out of the busy tavern. She took a deep breath, trying to push down the anger and frustration that was bubbling inside her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly to her friends, feeling guilty for ruining their night out.

Eiruk put a comforting hand on her shoulder, while Corlin spoke up in indignation.

"He has no right to speak to you like that. Or us, for that matter."

Neri forced a smile at her friends, grateful for their support. "It's alright," she said, though it was anything but. "Let's just...finish our drinks and go."

Eiruk and Corlin both nodded, worry evident on their faces. As they left the tavern and made their way through the crowded streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel the weight of her father's words bearing down on her. Eventually, they reached the entrance to Blackstaff tower and Neri let out a sigh of relief. The familiar stone walls provided some comfort amidst the chaos of the night; this was her true home, after all.

"I need to take care of some business before going back. You'll be alright now?" Eiruk asked, still clearly worried.

"I'll be fine," Neri reassured him with a small smile. "Thank you for coming tonight. It was fun."

"Yeah, we should repeat soon," Eiruk replied with a small smile before heading off towards the dark hallways.

Corlin lingered at Neri's side, his gaze filled with concern. "I will walk you to your bedroom," he said softly.

Neri nodded gratefully, leaning on her friend for support as they made their way through the familiar corridors of Blackstaff tower. She couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and anger that still lingered from her encounter with her father.

Corlin hesitated before speaking up again.

"You know, Neri, I never understood why your father is so hard on you," he said softly as they walked through the quiet hallways of Blackstaff tower.

Neri sighed, her thoughts still consumed by her argument with Arsten. "It's just how he is," she replied with a shrug.

"But it's not fair. You have more magical talent in your pinky finger than most wizards have in their entire body," Corlin insisted, his frustration evident in his voice.

Neri smiled weakly at her friend's words. Corlin was always quick to defend her and boost her confidence when she needed it most. "Thank you, Corlin," she said sincerely. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to her in that moment. She had always felt like an outcast among her own family, but Corlin and Eiruk had never made her feel that way.

His voice trembled as they reached Neri's room. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, and finally whispered, "You know," he started, unable to meet her gaze, "you don't have to face this alone. I... we'll always be here for you."

His words brought a lump to Neri's throat. She nodded mutely, finding herself momentarily overwhelmed with emotion.

The younger boy took a step and grabbed her into his arms, and she took the moment to hug him tightly. He felt warm and solid, a rock she could grab into, even on the darkest moments. Neri closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of wood smoke, lavender, and the earthy smell of books, a comforting aroma that enveloped her like an embrace.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other and Neri gave Corlin a small smile. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

Corlin nodded understandingly. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day."

Neri gave him a grateful nod before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

The next evening, Neri found herself once again entering Gale's studio with a stack of scrolls perched precariously on her arms. Despite her determination to figure out the combination spell on her own, she couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat as she approached her mentor.

"I'm sorry," she began, interrupting Gale's work yet again. "I know I am interrupting over and over, but I can't seem to find the right way to locate the object while also evaluating the surroundings to create a successful gate. I don't know what else to do." She let out a frustrated sigh as she dropped all her belongings gingerly on a nearby table.

"My dear Neri, you are like a reflection of myself. Yes, as a young man I too thirsted for knowledge like a parched wanderer in the desert." He said wistfully from somewhere inside the room.

Neri let out a small chuckle at Gale's dramatic statement. She scanned the place looking for her mentor. "Why do you speak as if you were fifty? You are still young!"

"I have spent many years studying and honing my magical abilities, giving me a unique perspective on life," Gale replied as he emerged from behind a pile of papers.

Neri grinned, and then was taken aback by the sight of him looking... revitalized. His skin had some color back, and he appeared refreshed with clean clothes and hair falling in soft waves around his face and shoulders. She felt her cheeks flush slightly at the sight of him.

"You look much better." She blurted. What? Why did she say that?

Gale chuckled, running a hand through his now clean hair, and looked to be blushing a little. "I have been known to clean up nicely when I put my mind to it. A good night's rest or two also does wonders," his eyes posed on her, "you look like you need it yourself."

A rosy flush spread across Neri's cheeks as Gale's words hit her, but she made a conscious effort to keep looking directly into his eyes. Despite the awkwardness, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the wizard seemed to be doing better.

Clearing her throat, she gestured towards the scrolls on the table, "Well, the lack of sleep means I have been able to dig on the combination spell, and as I said, I'm still struggling with it and was hoping you could offer some insights. Do you think it could be the incantation causing issues? Or perhaps my mental state isn't properly centered?"

Gale smiled, gesturing for Neri to sit down at the soft orange sofa with him. "Let's take a look at what you have so far."

Neri quickly made her way next to the wizard and spread out her scrolls and notes in front of them. Gale studied them intently, muttering under his breath every now and then. After a few minutes, he leaned back with a thoughtful expression.

"I think I can see where you are struggling," he said. "You are on the right track with the combination spell, but I think you may be overcomplicating it."

Neri furrowed her brows, "What do you mean?"

Gale went on, "To successfully find and create a dimensional door, precision and focus are crucial. But attempting to combine it with another spell, like location, is splitting that concentration. Perhaps the solution is to view it as one cohesive conjuration instead of two separate ones."

"That's a great suggestion," she said eagerly. "But how would I go about approaching it as one conjuration instead of two?"

Gale smiled, "Think of it like this - when you combine ingredients to make a potion, you don't mix them separately and then pour them together. You add them all at once and let them blend into one cohesive mixture."

Neri nodded, "So I just need to find a way to seamlessly merge the two spells together during the incantation instead of focusing so much on them independently?"

"Exactly," Gale confirmed. "It may take some trial and error, but I believe that is the key to successfully casting this combination spell."

"I see..." Neri thought to herself, taking a moment to process Gale's words. "But why don't you do it yourself then? It seems like you could do it much faster and easier than I am."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment before finally meeting her gaze with a small smile.

"I am afraid my condition makes me too frail to conjure any complex spells."

Neri could sense a hint of sadness in his voice and she immediately regretted her words. She wanted to ask him more about the condition, but she barely knew him, and felt like it might come off as a little intruding.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I just worry that it will take too much time for me to perfect it on my own. We are running out of time, after all..." She sighed sadly. It's not that she thought she lacked the skills; but mastering it would probably require several months of learning and practicing. And that wasn't even counting the time it would take to find the stones.

After pondering for a few seconds, Gale spoke up again. "You are right. Perhaps we could utilize my limited weaving abilities to guide you through the process?"

Neri's eyes widened with excitement.

"You mean we can combine both our spells into one? I never even thought that was a possibility."

Gale nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I could cast the locate spell and guide you through opening the dimensional door.

It would require us to channel the weave together and meld ourselves into one cohesive force, but I believe it would be a more feasible task than attempting it alone."

The thought of merging her consciousness with Gale's was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a level of intimacy Neri had never dared to try before, not even with her closest friends. She pictured their minds intertwining, their thoughts and emotions blending into one swirling confluence of energy. It was a daunting prospect, but if it meant the success of their mission, she would do it.

She nodded resolutely at Gale, offering him a small smile. "I'm willing to try."

His eyes also held a spark of excitement. "Very well. You must know, it will not be an easy task, but I believe in us. We are both outstanding wizards, after all."

Neri laughed softly as he stood and reached out a hand to help her up from her seat. Together, they walked towards the center of the room where there was enough space for their spell. They sat opposite each other, palms pressed together, and concentrated on channeling their magic. Neri could sense Gale's energy merging with hers, bringing a comforting warmth and renewed vigor. Sharing the same Weave was an intimate act, almost like a gentle whisper or tender touch.

The air around them began to hum, and Neri could feel a warm tingling sensation coursing through her veins.

"Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao," Gale chanted softly, his voice blending harmoniously with Neri's. She felt a surge of power within her at the sound of the words, and then her own sense of self fading away as she became one with Gale's consciousness. She could sense him: concentration, relaxation and... pain. So deep she almost faltered. He kept it so well hidden behind his humor, his verbosity and his infectious enthusiasm, it was hard to believe it was there. Gale's pain was a cold, dark undercurrent that Neri could tell it was a deeply rooted issue, likely tied to his condition.

"Now, let's try to combine the location spell with the dimensional door spell," he whispered through the connection they now shared with a mix of effort and exhilaration. "Keep breathing. Keep flowing."

As Gale and Neri stood facing each other, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could feel his magic humming in the air, creating a slight pressure in the back of her head. While her magic felt consuming but messy, his felt small yet precise. With Gale's steady guidance, she followed the trace of his location enchantment until she found the perfect point to open the gate between their worlds. Neri focused all her energy on that spot, channeling it into a stable connection and muttering the words for the door spell. As she did so, she could feel the power of their combined weave intensify, creating a tingling sensation throughout her body. Suddenly, a bright light burst forth from the spot they had been focusing on, growing larger and brighter until it formed into a shimmering portal before them.

"We did it!" Neri exclaimed in amazement as she opened her eyes. When she turned, Gale was looking at her with a soft smile. She could feel the warmth in his gaze, and it brought a sense of comfort and belonging to her. With their magic still intertwined through the Weave, Neri could sense his genuine pride in what they had just accomplished together.

But just a moment later, the portal made a loud sizzling noise and closed with a sharp pop. She felt her spirits deflate as their efforts seemed to have been in vain. Gale, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh at her disappointment.

"Ah, don’t be so downtrodden about the situation. It was amazing for our first try!", he sat up and began to stretch, “You are really quite excellent at learning things quickly, you know that?”

A warm feeling spread through Neri's chest, and she couldn't help but smile at Gale's praise.

"Really?" she asked timidly.

“Absolutely!” Gale beamed at her,

“You have a natural talent for grasping the intricacies of magic that I still struggle with, despite my years of experience. Trust me, it's not easy to adjust one's own spell casting to match that of another wizard."

She didn't need words to understand the authenticity in his message; their bond gave her all the confirmation she required. A pleasant sensation radiated from Neri's core, and she couldn't help but break into a smile upon hearing Gale's compliment. "I appreciate that," she replied with gratitude.

Gale chuckled and ruffled her hair gently. "Now come on, let's take a break and grab some dinner. We can resume our practice once we've filled our bellies."

"What? But we barely started practicing," she protested.

"We did, but I can sense your stomach grumbling, and I think it's telling us that lunch is more essential than magic training right now. Plus, we need to fuel up before we dive back into magic. For what good is a magic practice without nourishment to power it? It is like trying to start a fire without kindling, futile and fruitless." he added.

"I- I couldn't possibly accept Mast- Gale. I would not want to impose on you."

"Nonsense, my dear. Nurturing your mind and body is not an imposition but a crucial part of our journey towards mastery. Besides, I owe it to you for helping me clean this room the other day." he adds with a cheeky grin "And I might add, I am an outstanding cook, for that matter."

She is about to refuse again, but her stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly. Traitor.

Gale just laughed and pulled her up from the floor.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now let's go fetch some food before my apprentice starves to death."

Neri couldn't help but roll her eyes at Gale's dramatic flair. "Fine, but only this once," she relented.

"Excellent, then it's decided," Gale said with a wide grin. He glanced at Neri, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Prepare yourself for a feast."

Neri quirked an eyebrow, trying to hold back a smile. She doubted of his cooking skills after seeing the mess of his office the previous day, "I'll believe it when I see it."

As they strolled together towards the kitchen, Neri couldn't help but feel a newfound bond between them. The magic they shared had brought them closer in an unexpected way. Even with her previous Master, who was also around the same age as Gale, she had never felt this way. With Gale, it felt more like a genuine friendship, where he saw her as an equal rather than just a student. But then again, maybe it was just the effects of the Weave connection.

Once they reached the first floor, Gale moved confidently toward the kitchens, leaving Neri to follow in his wake. He slipped an apron over his wizard tunic, tying it at the back with ease. It was clear he'd done this before. Neri observed him as he worked, transfixed by the way he moved around the kitchen – so different from the erratic energy he possessed during magic practice.

"Sit," he ordered gently, pointing to a wooden stool on the other side of the counter. "And prepare your palate for my immaculate Hundur sauce."

Neri obeyed, surprised by Gale's assertiveness in this setting. As he started chopping vegetables, Neri couldn't resist asking, "How are you such a good cook?"

"Master Dekarios had a lot of free time while he was alone in his tower." Tara said as she appeared behind Neri, her fluffy tail wagging slowly.

Gale coughed akwardly "Well, it was more of a necessity, and in the beginning, I was terrible at it. But with practice and some helpful tips from my mother, I managed to become somewhat good."

Tara meowed loudly, seemingly agreeing with Gale's statement. Neri watched as Gale effortlessly cooked up a storm, adding spices and herbs to the dishes with practiced precision. The aroma that filled the kitchen made her mouth water.

As they waited for the food to finish cooking, Tara hopped onto Neri's lap and curled up into a ball. Neri stroked the soft fur gently and felt herself relax in the cozy atmosphere of the kitchen.

"Why you were alone for so long here?" Tara

lifted her head and meowed softly."Sorry, I mean, you and Tara."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I should come clean. You'll find out eventually anyway."

He turned away from the stove and leaned against the counter, facing Neri with a serious expression. "This affliction of mine...well, I wasn't exactly forthright about it before. It's a rather long and complicated story," he began slowly."I was what one might call a wizard prodigy, and from an early age could not only control the Weave but compose it, much like a musician or a poet. Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself the lady of mysteries."

"Mystra." she whispered.

Gale nodded, his expression a mix of sadness and nostalgia. "Indeed. She became my teacher, my muse, and eventually my lover."

Neri's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, I was aware were Mystra's chosen, but you were her lover too?"

"Oh yes we enjoyed each other's company

body mind and soul. But even so I desired more." he explained "You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave. Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond. I sought to cross her boundaries,"

He let out a trembling exhale, resting both hands on the countertop in front of her.

"Gods Gale... what did you do?"

Gale's gaze dropped to the counter, his hands still gripping the edge.

"I...I tried to convince her. But she only told me to be contempted." He looked up at Neri again, pain and regret evident in his eyes. "Can you believe it? I was sharing a bed with a goddess and I seeked to prove myself to her."

Neri reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She felt it tremble slightly.

Gale took a deep breath before continuing. "I found a Netherese tome with a fractured piece of the Weave. I thought, what if

after all this time I could return this lost part of herself to my goddess?"

Neri listened intently. She could only imagine the weight and responsibility he must have felt, being chosen by the goddess of magic and yet still never feeling enough for her, deserving of her.

"What was the answer to your question?" she asked softly.

"I obtained the fabled book and took it

into my study" Gale paused, his voice filled with remorse, "as for what happened next..." he took a step in her direction, grabbing her hand and placing it over his chest, "let me show you."

Neri looked at Gale in confusion, but did as he asked. She placed her hand over his heart and, a faint glow coming from it. She moved closer and was able to see the intricate lines that etched from his chest to his cheek, almost like a permanent tattoo. And then, she felt a pull, followed by the deepest darkest pain she had ever experienced. It was as if she had been thrust into the depths of an endless abyss. She screamed as she felt her soul being ripped apart and scattered to the winds.

Neri's mind was filled with images and memories that weren't her own. She saw Gale standing in his study, holding the Netherese tome in his hands. She felt his desperation, his need to prove himself to Mystra.

But as he began to open the book, a dark presence emerged from within it, engulfing him in its powerful grip. Neri watched in horror as Gale's body twisted and contorted under its influence.

And then, with a deafening roar, the darkness burst forth from Gale's body and consumed him completely.

Neri was pulled out of his mind and back into her own body, gasping for air. She looked up at Gale with wide eyes, tears streaming down her face.

"How...how in the nine hells are you still alive?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his big eyes filled with sorrow.

"Neri, I am dying."

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