#maybe the real impossible mission was being normal about that old woman

[chevaliermalfets]

Vanessa Redgrave as Max in Mission: Impossible (1996)

[theredcuyo]

About Akechi in post-game social media AU!

I first have to say, I don't really know a lot about how the fandom sees Akechi, and as far as I know half wants him 6ft under and the other will give their life's for him, but I don't really know how they represent him besides comics and fanart, I don't really know about how he is in fanfiction, just in case my view of him doesn't match with the "normal" one.

That said, let's go to the point.

Akechi post-game

After he was again in the real world, he was confused to say at least, he wasn't even sure how the hell he was alive, and he wasn't sure either if it was good or bad, it all became worst when he realized he didn't knew where he was, and that he was surrended by strangers faces.

He had the vague memory of being in mental health before, but he was quite sure this wasn't the place he was meant to be, or maybe he was in some kind of hell, that'll could make sense.

Then he heard a door opening, and a lot of light entered the room alongside a silhouette he couldn't see until the door closed again, it was a tall, long redhaired woman, with a serious face, she was holding some papers that she had the view in, Goro didn't knew why, but she gave of a really menacing aura, it was different from Shido's one though. He was already planning of how to escape until the woman started talking. - Goro Akechi, am I rigth?

Goro slowly nod, without wanting to say anything. - 18 years old, Masayoshi Shido unrecognised son, never formally adopted after mothers disease -She said, reading the paper she hold, as Goro was shocked to hear the information, it was meant to be classified- The one behind the mental shutdowns... Am I right again?

Goro stud quiet, if she was saying that, was he, then, in a prison or something? - That look gives me the answer.

-...What do you want? -He finally said, he wasn't sure if he could take down all the guards in the room. - I'll be short in what I want...

The woman take some steps towards him and then took out of somewhere in her clothes a gun. Goro immediately took a step back, but then smiled unconsciously, it was his fate coming for him anyways, right...? He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable end, but nothing happened. - What...?

He look up again at the woman, who now pointed the gun towards herself and shoot. Goro stud shocked at her, but trying to not look like so, as behind her appeared something vaguely familiar... A persona, at least it was like one.

-For that look in your face, I bet you know what this is, don't you? - She asked, walking back at the door. - Follow me.

And then Goro, still surprised and yet not trusting her at all, followed her, because he had no other option.

Now the headcanons

Goro takes a similar medicine to what Chidori used, to be able to control Loki

Goro works for the Kirijo group, under the same as Akihiko and the rest, Mitsuru decided to not let him do too many missions until he's totally trained to control his personas

Goro is usually put in a team with Ken, because they're the same age, Goro has the strange feeling of have met him before, but he can't remember from where, even so, he started to slowly trust him

Aigis tends to keep asking him a bit awkward questions, but they get along as they have the same training for the change personas ability, he's still annoyed about her asking every single day why he wears an unmatched glove

When the shutdowns case started, the Kirijo group already had some suspicious, so Mitsuru asked for it to be investigated, when they did discover it was persona related, Mitsuru had certain blue haired girl to keep an eye on Goro

Goro was actually quite excited to met Naoto, he tried to act like he wasn't, tried to use his old acting skills, but it was impossible to fool her

Goro has never revealed too much information about the phantom thieves but the Kirijo group knows enough, and he was put in charge of checking on them, he wasn't at the begginig, but as he kept doing it, Mitsuru ended putting him in charge

Goro get to meet Lavenza again in the velvet room, as Igor give him this time access, he asked her to not tell a thing to Akira

Goro said he's not ready to met them again, and that he'll be ready when he's actually become someone better

||||

I kept this for a while, but I finally finished it!

[imagine-organization-xiii]

If i may ask; can i please have how the org 13 members act around their crush? Thank you in advance ❤️

Masterlist - Incorrect Organization XIII - Tip Jar!

You might also like: when they realize they’re in love with s/o

This was a long-ish one that’s been sitting in the back of my drafts forever lmao - I hope you all enjoy, especially since it’s a bit of long read!

Special thanks to Miss Silverspoon, PhantomMuze, and Sam for helping with Luxord, Saix, and Vexen. Such babes.

-

Xemnas - Least likely to actually show it. I mean, there will be signs, but it won’t be blatant that he’s acting a certain way because he’s attracted to you. There might be some favoritism (giving you better missions, not scolding you when something goes wrong, looking the other way in certain situations.)

Overall, it’s going to be subtle. You definitely won’t pick up anything weird, but the other org members might. Saix will definitely be the one to come up to you, grab you by the shoulders and give you a good shake. “Please, he’s driving the rest of us crazy.” And you’re like “what the hell???” Saix: “Xemnas has been giving you the best missions and staring at you for five minute intervals. In his language, that means he’s practically a wanton hussy.”

Xigbar - Not ashamed in the slightest. He won’t even act any different. He finds you attractive, you find him attractive (Xigbar: “Everyone finds me attractive, obviously.”) So why bother wasting time?  He doesn’t really call it a crush, though. He thinks crushes are for children and he’s a man, god damn it, he doesn’t have crushes.

An unintentional sap. Before he plucks up the courage to say something to you - and it takes him longer than he will ever admit - he finds himself going soft for you. Thinks you’re pretty, instead of hot; wants to hold your hand instead of slam you against the wall. It’s a bit infuriating to him at first, but also maybe kind of worth it.

Xaldin - Ohhhh, man. He’s been in love before; he’s been hurt before. So he is ready to rein in that shit immediately. But it’s so difficult because he likes you so much and you’re so awesome. He’ll decide to give it a chance eventually, but it will take some time. He would definitely be content with just being friends, though, because he really doesn’t want to ruin what the two of you already have.

He makes sure to always be there for you. Always helps you when you need it. A gentleman in the ways that matter and a feisty, flirtatious beast in the ways that don’t. The type of guy to flirt by making sure that he takes his shirt off after a sweaty workout and casually flexes/stretches when he knows you’re watching but also makes sure you’re hydrated and wrapping your fists correctly when you spar.

Vexen - You’ll probably know about his crush before he does. He’s so absorbed in whatever his task is - his experiments, his theories, etc. - that he doesn’t even notice that his eyes linger on you and his posture automatically straightens when you walk into the lab. He’ll instinctively turn his body in your direction so that you’re almost always in his line of sight.

Doesn’t yell at you for walking into his lab when he’s obviously busy. Actually asks you for your input, likes talking to you and discussing his theories with you. You’re smart, but some of his experiments are beyond you, and he doesn’t mind explaining in simpler terms when you ask questions. It blows Zexion’s mind because he has a running tab on the different ways that Vexen throws people out of his lab and he’s never done it to you.

Lexaeus - not much for flirting. He’s come to terms with the fact that he likes you, but you’ve both known each other long enough that you know him, so there’s no way that he can pretend to act a certain way because you would know that something wasn’t right. It’s very difficult to tell that he has a crush on you - there’s no blushing, no flirting, no favoritism. He’s just his normal self.

When you finally figure it out, you realize that he showed his crush in subtle ways instead - offering a hand to pull you up after sparring, holding open a door for you, and apparently glaring at people who come up to flirt with you when he accompanies you to the market for groceries.

Zexion - “IT’S NOT LIKE I LIKE YOU OR ANYTHING, GO AWAY.” This emo little bastard doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions. He lost his heart at a really bad time, when he was still growing into himself, learning balance between anger, frustration, patience, euphoria, etc. so he’s very unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the idea that he likes you.

There may be a few gentle shoves and punches in the shoulder. He has so many feelings and has no way to put them into the world other than violence - because that’s really all he knows nowadays. But it gets better!!! You learn together.

Saix - Honestly, God help you if Saix gets a crush on you because he really doesn’t make it easy. If anything, he’ll be making your life difficult. He overcompensates about not giving you any special treatment, giving you harder and more difficult tasks/missions, or your workload might remain the same but his expectations are almost impossibly high. He’s not only trying to prove himself to the others; he’s trying to prove to himself that he doesn’t care.

He’s more difficult to be around tbh, and yeah, he’ll definitely seek you out which is a pain in the ass when you’re trying to avoid him. You’ll have to be the one to barge into his office, slam open the door, and yell at him that he’s being an asshole. He’ll probably back off a bit, but.... he’s really only rough on you because he knows you’re capable of more.

Axel - Axel falls in love unapologetically. He’s head over heels almost immediately and not even ashamed of his crush on you. Flirting becomes almost a part of your friendship because he’s just that comfortable with you. His mood is already so bright when he’s around you, but now it’s like the sun and you can’t help but meet his smile with your own grin.

But it gets to be kind of weird on his end because... you don’t realize that he’s being serious when he flirts? So many pick up lines. So many compliments. But you’re just like “oh that same old Axel haha,” and he’s left banging his head against the wall because he likes you so much but you’re so oblivious.

Demyx - He won’t even notice that he has a crush on you tbh. It will take him forever to notice. He knows he’s attracted to you, but he’s attracted to a lot of people so he didn’t think that it would be any different! A crush?? In this economy??? But he’s grateful, you know? Because there really couldn’t be a better person for him to have a crush on - like he could have a crush on Xemnas, of all people, and that would just be disastrous.

Doesn’t act differently until he realizes he has a crush. When he does realize, he’ll get nervous and clumsy. Shouting from across the hall, “HEY LET ME GET THE DOOR FOR YOU” and runs, trips, and knocks out a tooth. Just completely ridiculous stuff. You kind of notice that he’s acting strange, but it’s just Demyx, and it will probably take Vexen going up to you and saying “please put him out of his misery before he accidentally kills himself trying to flirt with you”

Luxord - Luxord is so charming, more charming than he usually is. He always has this endearing aura around him, and man, he turns it up when he tries to flirt with you. A gift giver - small things, a dessert you might like, a flower he stole from Marluxia’s garden, lunch when you’re busy, etc. Very aware of how to approach you; also knows where to stop before he goes too far. Knows how to read you pretty well in that respect.

Loves the romance that comes with having a crush because there’s so much raw potential. Feelings are confusing, they take a while to grow, but the idea that something amazing can be coming in the future is a great feeling to him. Great potential hangout ideas that don’t necessarily have to be dates, but they help you both metaphorically test the waters about what a real relationship could be.

Marluxia - arguably the most romantic out of everyone. Surprisingly?? Also the most sensible. Of the mind that, you know, if you like someone then do something about it. He has a crush on you? Why not just give it a shot, then? He’ll bring you flowers! Accompany you when you go somewhere! Take you for garden walks! Take you out to dinner!

Somewhere along the line it just becomes a relationship and not just a crush and he’s like, yeah I did this. When everyone’s like “omg how did you get her to like you back” he’s just like “because I did something about it unlike all of you idiots.”

Larxene - Listen. Listen. Larxene is a strong independent woman who doesn’t need someone else in her life to make her feel loved and powerful but damn, you’re so awesome and she has the biggest crush on you even though all of her instincts say that she’s being dumb. Will ask you to spar with her as an excuse to get close to you and don’t be surprised if she’s extra harsh when sparring - she definitely won’t be pulling her punches.

When you get closer, she’ll open up to you in a way that she won’t open up to anyone else, which is a big, obvious flag for you that her feelings may be more than friendship. She doesn’t like talking about herself or her past, so hearing things she’s never told anyone (except maybe Marluxia), makes you feel really great about being her friend.

Roxas - Man, he is such a cute little marshmallow, not shy in general but shy around his crush. He’ll do his hardest not to blush around you, but he does get nervous. So nervous, in fact, that he might make you think he doesn’t like you because he’ll tend to avoid you when he can. He doesn’t want to look stupid in front of you.

This baby feels things deeply, despite the lack of a heart. He always has felt things more deeply than others. Likes physical contact so when he gets over his fears of being around you, he’ll probably end up asking to hold your hand, randomly hugging you, giving high fives, etc.

Xion - Only really falls for people that she’s already friends with, because she knows them and she’s comfortable with them. It’s subtle for her, though. She’ll realize her crush one night and suddenly she can’t even speak to you without blushing, cheeks a bright pink against her pale skin. She’ll stutter, too, and she hates that’s she’s so nervous for no reason because you’re friends!!! And she has no reason to be nervous!!!

She’s also so helpful when she has a crush! Like Demyx, she’s eager to help you with whatever you’re doing, whether that’s mission reports, cooking, cleaning, etc. Unlike Demyx, she actually gets the job done and doesn’t get injured when trying to help. You’re always so grateful and thankful and that just makes her blush even more.

[razorblade180]

Shackles Finale: Free

[Part 12]

Destiny is a fickle thing. For some it’s real, and for others it’s as fake as fairy tales. No matter what however, time still goes on. Things still happen. Ruby was never one to think too hard on the topic despite all she’s been through. However, as she walked into Menagerie’s hospital soaking wet from the extreme downpour happening in the middle of the night, Ruby couldn’t help but wonder if it was destiny to test everyone’s resolve; or karma coming to collect.

Her self imposed mission had been going well. Adam cooperated, Blake planned ahead, and things progressed steadily. It should’ve stayed like that for three more months. Unfortunately things don’t always go as planned. Jacquelyn went into labor early, too early. The woman woke up today looking fit as a fiddle. Who could’ve guessed she would be fighting for her life today? Her, and her daughter?

Hospital staff were in a frenzy from the storm just like the public. It made getting to the back where everyone was without suspicion easy for Ruby. Certain doctors were notified ahead of time of the complexities of their patient and precautions had already been in place for Jacquelyn and company to have no disturbances. Though nobody factored in an unhealthy birth creating this island’s worst storms to date. Ruby made it to the sealed off waiting room. What should’ve been a haven of calm was another conflict. Blake stood arms folded and ears back in the way of guards and her conflicted father while Adam sat behind her, silent.

“You know I expected more from you, Saber. That goes double for you dad.”

The man frowned. “Blake, this wasn’t my-”

“We have held our end of the agreement.” Saber interjected, “Adam was to be free until the child was born. Not my problem that day came early.”

Blake grit her teeth. “You know damn well that’s not why I’m standing here right now!” She said through her teeth. His kid had just been born moments ago and just like that, she was rushed to intensive care. Meanwhile Jacquelyn was slipping in and out, her body failing her during the labor. “Let him see this through.”

“What good would it do him to hear terrible news? He’ll lash out for all we know. That can not happen in a hospital!”

“You just want to kick him while he’s down!”

“AND FOR GOOD REASON!”

Okay, Ruby had enough. “HEY!” She yelled, gaining everyone’s attention. She brushed her wet hair out of her face. “I set up generators across the island. No one's gonna lose power. I also told people Menagerie’s guards were making their rounds to make sure everyone was accounted for. I don’t mean to overstep being an outsider and all but…” her eyes burrowed into Saber’s “Get to work.” It wasn’t kind or even right necessarily, but Ruby didn’t care.

Feeling the pressure, Saber made the wise decision to take his people and leave. Ghira looked at Blake with guilt in his eyes for letting it get this far. “Listen I-”

“You know I understand mom not wanting anything to do with this, but I didn’t expect this from you. It’s like you’re trying to create every reason to push him back into old habits and make all this worthless. We will hold up our end of the bargain, so teach them what you tell me and have some patience.”

Ghira didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. There was caution, and then there was insensitivity. He had no words, just a nod before walking away.

Ruby grabbed his arm in passing. “She knows this wasn’t your call. Blake is stressed. Your house still has power. Ilia is with Kali trying to calm down Sienna and Sun is helping check on people. Maybe you should go home too?” Ruby smiled softly. She knew a worried father when she saw one. Ghira needed something to do.

“I appreciate the concern Mrs. Rose, but I think I’ll just stand guard outside this room.”

“Understood, and hey, things will work themselves out.” Ruby let him go and headed from one worried feline to the next. “You know he’s not to blame right? He’s just…trying to keep everyone connected.”

Blake let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know that, and I also know he’s not going to lose me. But right now I really need everyone to not jump the gun. Thanks for keeping the peace. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to your leadership skills.”

“I just got snippy with faunus officers on their own island. Really testing my boundaries with my status as an important huntress across Remnant.” Ruby patted Blake on the back. “You should go check in on the doctors. I’ll do my job watching our person of interest.”

“Okay.” Blake looked back at Adam. He stayed quiet throughout all of this, eyes closed and arms crossed. He must’ve figured the best thing he could do right now is not look threatening. “I’ll let you know first if anything changes okay?”

He still didn’t move but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “Thank you.” He heard Blake run off in a hurry while the sound of chair legs rubbed the ground in front of him. Adam opened his one good eye and saw Ruby sitting in front of him with her scroll in hand.

“You know…I can’t remember when a day has felt this long.” Ruby sighed, “Moments like these is enough to just make you want stop time ya know?”

“I don’t need sympathy.”

“Wasn’t giving any. Just venting I guess. My husband sent me a text. I’m missing a very important arrival today; not that it’s your fault by any means. I just know it’s gonna be grounds for a conversation later that might get feisty, again.”

Adam could see how tired Ruby was. The normally energetic woman was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take long missions then?”

“Pfft nah. I don’t regret helping where I can. Besides I didn’t know until after I took the mission. Things will work themselves out though. That’s how family works. Believe in each other and the impossible happens.”

“I know what you’re doing. It’s not gonna work. Just stop talking okay?”

Ruby pursed her lips. Years of leadership didn’t prepare her talks like these. She had to say something though. It was hard to explain, but Ruby could feel the importance of this moment. Good or bad news, bottling this up would make anyone go insane. Ruby reached down her shirt and lifted her necklace. It was a silver cross with red roses wrapped around it. She took it off and dangled it on her fingers, scooting closer to Adam.

“My dad and uncle gave this to me on my birthday. They said…sometimes you need a piece of faith when you don’t have any yourself. I’m not really religious but apparently my mom used to pray after she knew there was nothing left she could do herself. Hehe, it’s a Rose mentality.” Ruby put it in Adam’s hand and curled it. “Don’t tell anyone this, but it’s pretty cool that you are your own kind of rose. Makes me feel like we’re connected in a way. Keep that. I know it’ll fit you.”

Adam remained quiet. He stared down at the trinket in his hand until his vision blurred. His body trembled. Slowly he clenched the cross. “I have no right to pray for anything. If destiny or whatever you want to call it exists then it’s only fair I get punished.”

Ruby frowned, “Hey that’s-” she cut herself short, not expecting Adam to put his other hand over the cross; his forehead pressing against them as he closed his eyes.

“Punish me.” He uttered weakly. “Me, not them. Leave everyone else out of it.” The first and only prayer he’ll ever make. His life could be at destiny’s whim forever as long as the ones who fought for him didn’t get burned.

Ruby stood from her seat and knelt down, grabbing his hands and joining the prayer. All while Ghira watched silently from the entrance.

For several hours, It was out of everyone’s hands. A roll of the dice, luck of the draw, fate, gods, destiny, whatever anyone wanted to call it; that was the only thing left and no one dared to keep track of the time out of anxiety. It was a scary, humbling feeling for certain. It was also the purest reminder that life wasn’t fair. Bad things happen to good people, hard work is left with nothing, and sometimes… a sinner’s prayers get heard.

The doors flung open with Blake breathless. “Adam…” she panted, eyes bigger than the smile on her face. “She’s-” the tears shed caught her off guard. The two roses stared blankly before Adam stood. Blake moved out of the doorway and he took it as a sign. ‘Run.’ Adam ran and no one dared to stop him.

“Back room.” Blake said, walking to her father. Ruby got up as well and joined the two. Blake looked at the red faced girl. The feline giggled softly while wiping Ruby’s tears. “And here I thought I knew how big your heart was?”

Ruby laughed as she tried to stop sniffling. “It’s not what it looks like. Seeing him sit there with his demons like that, it reminded me of how my dad and uncle qrow used to look when mom was brought up. Sorry, got a little compromised.”

“Welcome to the club. Dad, sorry I-”

Ghira wrapped his arm around Blake. “Don’t apologize. I tell you to take things slow and yet I tried rushing to the end of this. I’m sorry. I can’t say what lies in store for Adam next, but I suppose…I’ll have to keep more of an open mind. He’s earned that much.”

Ruby shook her head and sighed. “If I’m being honest, personally I think everyone has been a bit silly. Including my lovable sis. You all make it sound like he’s been trouble free for six months when that isn’t the case. I can’t say if he’s been perfect or not but the fact that Remnant thinks he died at Argus has to mean something, right? I certainly can’t link him to any world threatening incidents since then. He’s been minding his business for a couple years now. Is locking him up really gonna change anything? I mean it wouldn’t matter if Cinder was in or out of jail for me. I’d still be wary and pissed. Your men’s feelings about him wouldn’t change because of a cell. But hey, that’s just me.”

Ruby put her hands behind her hand and walked off. “I’m gonna step out for a moment and make a call.” She looked out a window. To her surprise, the rain had stopped. Ruby dialed Yang’s number. “Hey sis! Beautiful day to start a family. So, what’s my precious little niece’s name?”

xxxx

Adam reached the back room and pushed the door open to find Jacquelyn in bed, startled by his entrance before giving him a grin. Her skin had a sickly yellow dinge to it and she was covered in sweat. Still she smiled, holding a small infant as doctors looked at vitals and did their work.

“Awe, have you been crying? I’m sorry. Guess we gave you a fright.”

One of the nurses looked at the maiden like she was crazy. “Ma’am you slipped into a coma. Please don’t try and move around much.”

“I was a little tired, that's all. Heh…guess we finally found something I’m not good at? That’s un- oh…” Adam put his arms around her and the baby. Odd, to think he could hold something this gently? His presence soothed her into leaning into the embrace, humming quietly to both him and the new arrival. A premature baby with red hair, and tiny horns.

The doctor, naturally sworn to confidentiality, watched from the sidelines. “I’d like to congratulate you with confidence, but these two aren’t out of the woods yet. While I expect Jacquelyn to bounce back with time, your daughter is pretty frail. We have her stable for the time being but the heart is a complex organ even when fully developed. We’re going to have to keep her for a while just to make sure she’ll grow up healthy. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power for her.”

“Thank you.” Adam looked at his daughter’s round face. She opened her eyes to reveal two pools or bright blue. “Hmmm.”

“Something wrong?” Jacquelyn asked.

“She’ll have a hard time, with these features going for her. I was hoping she’d look more like you.”

“Oh hush. She’s beautiful like this. Though maybe I am a little jealous she doesn’t have my hair. Still, real big fan of those eyes.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll do our best and then some.”

The doctor pulled out some paperwork. “Now then, I’m going to need a name. Her record won’t be too expensive in terms of…background history, but she’ll need the basics as best as possible. Especially in her condition.”

“Wanna name her after your mother, or even your sister?”

Adam shook his head, “I think we already have enough namesakes. Let her be free from that. You decide. I was never really good at these kinds of things.”

“Oooo okay. Don’t come crying later if you think of a good one. A free spirited name for our little kid.” Jacquelyn giggled to herself. “Got it. How about we name her…”

“Hehe, That’s a perfect name.” The two roses spoke.

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

...there are no words to properly describe the awesomeness of this episode! so good every time. in honour of her first appearance, special Allie POV! Basically it’s just three conversations this week (to make them talk and think about what happened :D ) 

PS you have to squint a little to fit these scenes all into the timeline of the ep but that’s the joy of fic.

1.9

There was really no reason for her to be in the locker room, other than extreme curiosity. But Allie figured the gorgeous new FBI consultant wouldn't pick up on that. And even if this 'Jane Doe' did, it wouldn't matter much anyways - Allie wasn't exactly shy. She'd probably end up just telling the truth, which would only make the situation more disconcerting for the other woman.

She wasn't exactly sure what she even wanted from an encounter with the tattooed woman; just a chance to check her out really. The stunned look on Kurt's face when Jane had appeared in that dress had made her both slightly jealous and highly curious. In her entire relationship with Kurt Weller he'd never looked at her, or anyone else, like that. So when she'd seen the object of Weller's attention enter the locker room immediately after they returned from their mission, Allie had slipped in too.

It turned out to be a solid tactic when she heard Jane struggling in the stall, obviously somehow stuck in her dress. Considering the stories she'd heard that day from the rest of Kurt's team about the woman’s exploits thus far, it seemed completely implausible that she'd been foiled by her outfit. But Allie definitely heard muffled cursing coming from the stall, along with a grunt of irritation.

"You need some help in there?" she called out.

There was a fairly long pause before Jane sighed.

"Um, yeah," she replied sheepishly, opening the door.

Allie stepped up to take a look at the situation, which ended up being a classic case of a jammed zipper. With a little wiggling, she freed the zipper pull from the fabric it was stuck on and then unzipped the dress the rest of the way, revealing all the tattoos that weren't covered up.

Unsurprisingly, Jane was wearing the most basic of underwear, despite the dress she'd been wearing. Allie eyed her inked skin and her fit body with interest, her mind wandering in a few different directions as Jane shyly got dressed in her regular clothes. She wondered how many of the tattoos Kurt had seen. Somehow she was sure he would eventually see them all, up close and personal. A small part of her wanted to see the rest of them too.

"So what happened out there?" Allie asked, interrupting her own thoughts and breaking the silence.

"Uh. All things considered, it turned out pretty well," Jane replied. "We were lucky Reade and Zapata showed up when they did though. I was out of ammo and there were a lot of guys."

It was an incredibly bland answer, one that didn't mention Weller directly at all. But also a perfectly normal and acceptable response to what had been asked. Clearly she needed to dig a lot deeper to find out what she wanted to know.

"And how did it go with Kurt? Being married and all that?"

Allie didn't fully know why she was putting Jane on the spot like that, except that there was a need on her part to take back some of the power she'd obviously lost. She'd liked a lot of things about Kurt Weller and he'd once liked a lot of things about her too. It was only natural she'd wondered that day if she still held any sway over him.

And that question had been answered as soon as Jane showed up in the dress that was lying in heap in front of them now. Which had immediately been intriguing, even though Allie didn't particularly like losing at anything. Especially when she'd been pitching real hard for Kurt's attention.

Who was this woman that could make him stare like that?

That's what Allie was going find out.

Jane was still standing there in front of her, cornered in the stall and looking uncomfortable with the shift in conversation. But being a US Marshal made Allie used to long silences in interrogations and so she left the question just hanging between them, waiting for a response.

Finally, Jane looked at her and offered an awkward shrug.

"Um. He was very… attentive."

Allie smirked, knowing how Weller could be. He was old school, very 'protect my woman' even though he tended to choose deadly women.

Good answer, she thought. Point for Jane.

"I'm sure he was. Kurt can be pretty possessive."

"Was he?" Jane asked, timidly. "When you… uh…"

"When we dated?" Allie replied. "Actually, not usually. Just after a few drinks and some guy gets handsy at the bar, you know."

Jane made a face like maybe she didn't know at all and was trying to wrap her head around the comment. Allie was thinking she kind of liked the deadly yet innocent consultant, a lot more than she thought she would.

"But I bet he was with you. Especially out there, all alone, without any backup," Allie said.

"I bet he was all over you."

Jane made a face that confirmed exactly what had just been said and Allie grinned, feeling like she'd accomplished her mission. She'd gotten a sense of the situation between her ex and his new interest, which pretty much told her what she'd originally thought.

"Anyways, I'll let you get dressed," Allie said, finally turning to leave the stall.

Jane stammered some sort of thanks for freeing her from her dress but Allie was already on her way out of the locker room, with a new mission in mind.

It was time to find Kurt and put him to a little test; one she already knew he was going to fail.

###

"But aside from that you won't find a better man."

The US Marshal's words were still repeating in her ears even after Jane had returned the ring and Weller had gone off to put the props away. She had walked away from the one-sided conversation with Kurt's ex with her brow furrowed; puzzled about Allie's behaviour and a little startled at the implication of her words. Weller wasn't actually hers at all, despite how natural it had felt being ‘married’ to him for the day. Though she did feel his walls breaking down a little - he was talking to her more since she'd asked if they were friends.

Her relationship with him had already been a whirlwind and nothing had really even happened yet. She liked to think they'd settled into a good place after their stint of boundary setting; somewhere with a safe amount of distance for both of them. But of course she still thought about it, what it would be like to be with Weller. To be able to touch him the way they'd slid in and out of each other's hands that day.

They had fit so well together, both professionally and... physically. And then there'd been the way he behaved – so angry and jealous, with a heat that made it seem like more than an act. Which had startled her at first; but when he'd called her his wife in that fierce tone, a warm ripple had passed through her body.

That was all over now though. She'd returned the ring and dress, and was back in her regular clothes, feeling so much more comfortable with herself. Though she hadn't exactly minded the way Weller had looked at her; especially since it had all happened in front of his ex.

Which brought her back to her confusion about Allie. When the Marshal had hugged Weller so familiarly that day it had elicited feelings from Jane that she'd never experienced before. The idea of Weller having a girlfriend had previously just been a vague concept, not something she'd ever paused on for long. But now she had all sorts of thoughts and questions and feelings about Kurt and his past and future romantic relationships.

Especially now that Allie had just implied that Weller was somehow Jane's, even though nothing had actually changed in their relationship. No matter how he had acted while they were 'married', it was all part of his job. He was the lead agent on her case, as well as her boss. Sure, she had a lot of complicated feelings about him but all that was really between them was an ancient connection, a lot of unresolved guilt and a neediness on her part. She knew he cared about her. But that was due to his past, and because it was his job. In their current existence, they were just settling into being friends. He was actually coming over for the housewarming party that night, which was nice, especially after the day that they'd had together.

That was just an act, Jane reminded herself sternly as she approached the elevator.

Jane stirred herself out of her thoughts as she pressed the down button and waited. She wanted to get back to the safe house before everyone came over, though she wasn't exactly versed on what she was meant to do as the host of a housewarming party. Especially since the idea had been foisted on her by drunk Zapata and Patterson, who wanted to both see the place she escaped from and make Weller come out with the team. Jane had still been a bit surprised that Kurt had enthusiastically approved of the plan, despite how sure both the other agents had been about it. Which had resulted in a lot of smirking and pointed eyes looks in her direction when he immediately took the idea and ran with it.

So maybe it hadn't all been an act.

Jane was blushing a bit just thinking about it when Kurt approached again and let his gaze fall over her. He was standing awfully close too; so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. She was trying to not think about dancing with him earlier, but it was nearly impossible to keep the memory out of her mind. It didn't matter that he wasn't in the tux anymore, just the scent of him was enough to evoke the feeling of his hands on her body.

"Do you want a ride home?" Weller asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Jane prayed her cheeks weren't as red as they felt, and she tried her hardest to put those thoughts away. Any other day she could tell Weller that her detail would drive her but he was coming over for the housewarming so there wasn't any good reason not to ride with him. Especially because he was cutting out before the rest of the team was done for the day; an extreme rarity. And her body kept inching towards his, as if pulled by a gravitational force.

"Uh, sure," she stammered, without any of the confidence she'd felt while playing his wife.

Weller grinned at her response and ushered her into the just-arrived elevator car, then pressed the door close button as soon as they got in. Jane tried her best not to stand too near but now it was Kurt who kept closing the space between them, until her shoulder was touching his.

It was strange, but as soon as his body made contact with hers, Jane felt calmer. Especially when he gave her a little nudge, as if to say 'relax.'

They didn't talk on the way down to the vehicle, but the silence was anything but awkward. There were a lot of furtive glances and semi-smiles, some conversing with their eyes. Jane could tell that Weller was also thinking about the day they'd had and she liked the expression it brought to his usually serious face.

She thought back to earlier again. How possessive he'd been. He'd implied it was part of the act. But it hadn't felt that way. Maybe because, even now, he hadn't quite stopped behaving that way.

Once they were driving, Jane wondered if they were going to talk about the day, or pretend it had all never happened. Fairly quickly she got her answer, as Weller turned to her with an unreadable expression.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable out there today," he said. "Things got pretty… close there for a moment."

Jane frowned, biting down hard on her lip, wondering if he meant the shootout they'd been about to lose or how physically entangled their bodies had been. Because that part had certainly not been the problem. Being so close, having his hands all over her; it had felt more than a little comfortable.

"I think I might have come off like a possessive asshole."

Jane snapped her head up to look at him in surprise. He sounded a little anxious, like he wasn't sure how to navigate the situation. Which was rather adorable considering how forceful he'd been in the moment.

"You were acting pretty jealous," Jane commented, matter-of-factly.

"Well, he shouldn't have been touching you like that!" Weller retorted.

Jane grinned, and flashed him a wink. He still sounded pissed off just thinking about it. Which, she had to admit, was kind of cute.

Weller caught on that she was just playing with him and most of his anger dissipated; though his next words were still a bit huffy.

"Even if you're not my wife, I'm not going to let some creep do that to you."

The way he looked at her as he said it made Jane feel warm on the inside, but a little confused as well. She could obviously take care of herself. It certainly wasn't on Kurt to defend her honour. And yet, she liked that he wanted to.

"Weller. Calm down," Jane sighed. "It's over."

Kurt exhaled and looked back at the road for a bit as he took her advice and refocused his energy. She wondered at his anger, so long after the fact. Sure, the guard had taken full advantage of the situation in an unseemly manner, but Weller's emotions about it hadn't died off, even now.

Finally, as they were nearing the safe house, Kurt turned to her with a bit of a sheepish look.

"I'm really glad we still get to do this. For a minute there I was worried about what I'd gotten you into."

Jane wondered about his admitting that. He'd seemed confident the entire time. Though she'd started to be fairly concerned when she ran out of ammo and more attackers kept appearing.

"We would have figured something out," she said, brushing the near-miss out of her mind.

That won her a full grin from Kurt.

"Yeah," he said. "We made a good team didn't we."

There was another heady pause between them as Weller pulled the SUV up in front of the safe house and parked. But then, before they had a chance to get out, he turned to her and blurted out a question.

"What did Allie say to you?"

Jane felt a flutter in her stomach and panic in her chest. She didn't want to actually tell Kurt what the Marshal had said. So there had to be some way around it, without using exact words.

"Um. I think she thinks there's uh… something going on between us? Or that there should be."

It was the best she could do to sum up her strange contact with Weller's ex. But when Kurt didn't reply for a long time and just sat there with a pensive look on his face, Jane figured she must have said something wrong. Looking at him nervously, she waited to hear that him proclaim that she was making things up or massively misreading the situation.

But when Weller finally replied, he also sounded a bit confused.

"Yeah," he nodded. "That's the vibe I got too."

"Sorry about that, I don't know what's up with her. It's been awhile."

Jane felt all her anxiety wash away immediately and she bit back a smile. She'd rather liked the Marshal, despite her initial reaction at discovering the pretty agent was Kurt's ex. And she definitely liked that Allie thought Weller was over their relationship and had moved on to a new interest.

Shrugging, Jane flashed Kurt a sly grin.

"I guess we were too good at the act," she commented.

They were, and she knew it.

"That Rich Dotcom guy sure bought it."

Weller groaned and rolled his eyes at the mention of the ridiculous dark web kingpin they'd just apprehended.

"Hopefully we never have to see that guy again," he muttered.

"I don't think I'd be able to stop myself from shooting him."

###

Weller walked Jane into the safe house with a nerves tingling up and down his spine. The last time he'd been in there with her he'd ended up running off before he did something inappropriate. And now he knew what it felt like to hold her close and run his hands along her curves.

At the moment he had his arm lightly draped behind her back, hovering as if waiting to catch her from some unseen danger. Then, when he opened the door and she stepped in, his hand glanced against her hip for a brief second and it took everything in him to pull it away before his palm slid up to her waist the way it had earlier that day.

Quickly Kurt flushed the memory from his mind and reminded himself that he had to stay professional. Despite what Allie had implied, there wasn't anything going on between him and Jane and he meant to keep it that way. If he acted on his feelings towards her any more than he already had, he would probably be forced to withdraw from her case. Which was a consequence he wasn't willing to risk, no matter how attracted he was to her.

Shaking himself back into the present, Weller put the beers he'd brought into the suspiciously empty fridge and the snacks on the counter. When he was done putting things away, he noticed that Jane was standing in the kitchen looking a little lost so he opened two beers and handed her one.

"Cheers," he said, with a grin.

"To another successful mission."

They clinked bottles and Jane took a few sips before she offered him the same helpless look she'd been wearing since they came in.

"I'm sorry. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do," she stammered.

Weller's grin grew as he took in her nervousness. She hadn't been nearly this anxious when stranded with him alone in the field, pretending to be married and facing a small army on their own. Or when he'd made her dance with him at the party, knowing that he might never get another golden opportunity like that.

"Relax," he replied. "How about you show me around?"

It was a bit pointless since it was just another standard FBI safe house and Weller had certainly seen enough of those in his career. But Jane gave him a thankful smile at his suggestion and toured him through the place, all of it as non-descript as he imagined until they returned to the living room and he noticed the sketches on the wall.

"Did you do these?" he asked, staring at the incredible detail in the art.

Jane nodded as she stepped up next to him, suddenly looking shy again.

"They're amazing," he added.

"Is there anything you can't do?"

Jane blushed.

"Uh. I don't know how to host a housewarming party?"

Weller laughed.

"Jane, stop worrying. The rest of the team will be here soon and then we'll order pizza. All you have to do is relax and have a good time."

She sighed and gave him a sheepish look.

"Sorry. Sometimes I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing."

Kurt laughed again.

Could she be any more adorable? Deadly and capable as hell but still lacking confidence in many ways.

"You did fine at the party today," he said.

"Why don't we just sit down and wait for everyone else?"

Jane still looked unsure so Weller took the lead and sat down on the couch, then gave her an expectant look. Which finally drew a grin from her as she rolled her eyes and joined him on the sofa.

It was a little weird sitting there with her, but not really. He could still feel it, that rightness between them. It had been like that all day, the way his arm fit perfectly around her.

Weller's mind drifted right back to dancing with her, rueing the fact that there wasn't likely to be another mission that involved that sort of interaction. Then his brain flashed to Jane asking if he'd ever been married and her confession about having been engaged at some point.

It made him irrationally upset thinking that she possibly had a fiancé, and not for the poor fiancé who'd lost his gorgeous future wife. Obviously Kurt knew what it meant, that he wanted her to be his. But she wasn't and she couldn't be - it would only make him more goddamned not 'objective' like everyone already said.

Weller growled at himself, trying to put all of it out of mind. They were friends, and it had to stay like that for the sake of the investigation.

"Can I ask you something?"

Kurt was knocked out of his internal battle by Jane's timid question, and he immediately focused in on her again.

"Of course," he replied.

It took her a moment to continue and he loved watching the emotions dance across her features as she thought about her next words.

"What happened between you and Allie?" Jane finally asked.

"She seemed pretty happy to see you again."

That was twice she'd asked about his relationship with Allie, which definitely gave his ego a little boost. He liked that Jane cared enough to question him about it, even if he didn't really want to discuss his failed love life with her.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled, trying his best to play things cool.

"I guess she forgot we weren't a very good fit."

That much was true. He'd been surprised that Allie had propositioned him again, despite all their issues the first time around. She'd been pretty clear that he hadn't been able to meet her needs, and he didn't think her memory was that short.

Jane gave him a look that implied she didn't believe him and Weller sighed. How was he supposed to characterize a relationship that ended because he was emotionally unavailable?

"There was a lot of drinking and not a lot of talking," he explained.

"We had a lot of fun but she wanted more from me."

"What did you want?" Jane asked.

She sounded so innocent and earnest, yet he couldn't help but feel awkward talking to Jane about Allie. It was making him overthink things to the extreme, go down a mental path he was trying to avoid.

"To be honest, I didn't know what I wanted," he finally replied. "And I was never good at opening up."

"Yeah," Jane said. "I can tell."

Weller frowned with amusement at her tone, and gave her a little nudge on the shoulder.

"You keep your cards pretty close to your chest too," he grumbled.

"You remembered being engaged? When did that happen?"

"Not until you put the ring on my hand," she said, seeming to blush a bit, though he couldn't quite tell in the dim light.

"Were there any clues about who he might be?" Weller asked, recognizing that he was prying and unable to stop himself from doing so. At least he could pretend it was due to the case.

"No, but I did remember later that I gave the ring back," Jane said, a little sadly. "And I think I've dreamt about him before."

The fact that she'd given the ring back shouldn't have made him so pleased but it still did. The thought of a fiancé out there swooping in to claim Jane as his own turned his stomach, and the chances of that happening were a lot slimmer if they were no longer engaged.

Weller's internal voice tried to warn him that his emotions about her were too present after the day they'd had, and that talking about relationships with Jane, especially right then, was risky business. Yet, the next words came out anyway, before his rational mind could shut his mouth.

"Have you thought about it?" he asked. "Dating?"

Maybe he just felt the need to prepare himself for the eventuality. She deserved a life outside of the case and was certain to attract interest if she started going out more often. Or maybe he was trying to trap her into some reassurance that she also understood they were meant to be together. The thing was, even Kurt wasn't exactly sure why he was pushing the conversation in that direction.

Jane looked anxious as hell about his question, which had not been his intent at all. Yet obviously he'd put her on the spot, in an extremely awkward way.

Nice one, Weller, he groaned to himself, wondering if he could retract his words somehow. But before he could backtrack, Jane actually answered.

"Um a little bit? It would all be pretty hard to explain though."

That much was obvious, though he imagined that Jane's mysterious past would just make her more intriguing to most men. It was cute to see her so shy though; so unsure when she was generally so self-confident.

"Even just the tattoos," she continued. "Not to mention the memory thing."

The tattoos were such an integral part of her that he no longer registered them as out of the ordinary. In fact, it was strange to see her without the bird on her neck at the moment, because she hadn't yet wiped off the makeup they'd used to cover it for the mission. So it was hard to remember that the tattoos weren't ordinary at all and would prompt a lot of judgment, especially since she couldn't explain any of it, due to everything being classified.

"Your tattoos are gorgeous," he stated firmly. "They're a part of you. You shouldn't have to explain them to anyone."

"It was the only thing missing from that outfit today."

He hadn't exactly meant to let that last bit slip; would have blamed it on the beer except he'd only had half a bottle. But it didn't make the statement any less true. The thought of Jane wearing that dress while in her regular inked skin was almost too much to bear.

"Kurt, that was so not me," Jane groaned, shaking her head at him.

"Yeah well, a tux isn't me either," he replied. "But it's still nice to look good in one."

It was true after all. It had felt nice, getting the appreciative comments from Allie. Though Weller was glad he'd stopped himself from blurting out his thoughts when Jane had first appeared in that dress. Now though, he couldn't seem to help elaborating on his more muted comment at the time.

Jane blushed, which only stirred his out-of-whack emotions even further.

"Sorry," he apologized, realizing he'd crossed a line again.

"I shouldn't go there."

"No, you're right," Jane replied with a shy smile.

"It is nice to hear. I don't usually feel very pretty."

Of all the words she could have spoken, those ones completely knocked his socks off. Her lack of self-recognition was bewildering- it seemed impossible that Jane didn't know how beautiful she was. Either dressed up for a gala or just in a tank top and jeans.

His hands wanted to reach for her and confess all of his thoughts. Weller even felt his arm moving towards her, as if by its own accord. He could feel the crumbling of his internal walls and was seriously about to give himself away when there was a knock at the door and they could hear Patterson's voice through it.

Weller was thrown out of his reverie by the noise and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd nearly acted on feelings he was trying his best to repress, and that would have likely led to all sorts of complications. Yet he couldn't just let the conversation end where it was; so before they stood up, he managed to sneak in one more comment.

Looking at Jane seriously, he held her to the couch with his eyes for just a moment longer.

"Well. You should," he declared, in a tone that brooked no arguing.

His declaration brought a shy, sassy smile to her lips before Jane suddenly fled, muttering something about washing off the makeup before everything got started. Weller wistfully watched her run off before going to open the door; once again both cursing and blessing the others for showing up at that moment. Because he'd been about to reach out and kiss her. And he would have never been able to let go.

[darkpetal16]

Can we see anything about the Jujutsu story? I'm so excited to see all the chaos!!

Sure thing! I'll take some scenes from chapter one. They haven't been edited yet and I don't have a beta so please forgive the typos / lack of description.

April 13th, 2000

Éclosion was a town of over 25,000 citizens in France. It was a suburb a few hours from Paris, and was known as one of the safer towns in France.

On April 13th, in the year 2000, the entire population of Éclosion instantly died from an “unknown” cause.

To most of the world, it was a bizarre tragedy, something to be marked down as an unsolved mystery for the history books. Each citizen had simultaneously suffocated within a few minutes of being exposed to… something.

Something that could not leave behind a physical trace of its existence yet was so overwhelming it simultaneously strangled over 25,000 living beings within Éclosion.

To a very small group of people, they knew the truth.

That town did not die by ordinary means, rather, from the sheer spiritual pressure exerted by a very dangerous being.

To that small group of people, they assumed it was the work of a curse.

Curses were created when cursed energy leaked from humans as a result of their human emotion. Cursed energy would build up in areas like sediment until it is strong enough to manifest a form. They were known to be lethal when left alone.

Populated locations such as schools and hospitals are hot spots for creating curses because many negative emotions were associated with those places. The same concept applies humanity's collective fear and hatred. An image of fear shared by the masses can create a powerful curse even if the subject was not real, such as famous monsters or ghosts. The negative emotions that humanity directed at that singular fear would cause it to manifest as a curse and in time… a cursed spirit.

Cursed spirits’ bodies are entirely made up of cursed energy--or spiritual energy. Their metaphysical existence made it impossible for normal humans to perceive or touch them.

Only a small group of humans were able to interact with cursed spirits, and in turn, combat them.

They were known as Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Jujutsu Sorcerers formed a society over the past thousands of years to work in the shadows to supress curses in an effort to protect humanity. All Jujutsu Sorcerers were trained in their youth at one of the two Jujutsu educational facilities in either Tokyo or Kyoto in Japan. At those facilities, they were taught how to utilize their own cursed energy in order to exorcise cursed spirits.

After graduating, alumni Sorcerers who remain aligned with the schools typically used one of the two facilities as a home base. Those facilities served as the cornerstone for the Jujutsu Sorcerer community. They mediated issues, assigned missions, and officially established a payroll for all their employed exorcists. The higher-ups were in charge of the schools and by extension all Jujutsu sorcerers.

Sorcerers would be dispatched wherever they found a gathering of cursed spirits. They were dispatched based on how strong they are in comparison to the spirit they face. The jujutsu society would rank spirits--and Sorcerers--like so:

Grade 4 - The weakest; a tire iron is plenty to deal with it.

Grade 3 - Slightly harder than Grade 4; handgun or something of similiar power recommended.

Semi-Grade 2

Grade 2 - An average Jujutsu sorcerer would not come out unscathed.

Semi-Grade 1

Grade 1 - “Even a tank might be insufficient.”

Special Grade 1

Special Grade - “Cluster bombs might work.”

For reasons not yet known to the Jujutsu community, curses and Sorcerers were most commonly found in Japan. While some could crop up in other countries, it was exceedingly rare.

That meant only a handful of Sorcerers were dispatched on rotation to monitor countries outside of Japan.

For example, France.

There were only three Sorcerorors stationed in France and they would handle the curses and Curse Users that appeared in France.

Three Sorcerers.

Who, at best, could handle a Grade 1 spirit.

But on April 13th that year something truly horrific happened.

A curse that had simultaneously slaughtered thousands of civilians within minutes of being born. Its mere presence could be felt by the Sorcerors not only in France, but in the surrounding countries across Europe.

It was only felt for five minutes, and then it vanished.

And so while the majority of the world was in a panicked frenzy over the mysterious massacre, the Jujutsu world was in a different kind of panic.

For a spirit that went beyond their measurement system had just been born… and they had no way of dealing with it.

.

<Skipping a scene here to avoid spoilers>

.

(Lilly - April 13th, 2000)

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Lilly stared in grim resignation at the hanging corpse. The woman didn’t even reach her thirties before throwing in the towel. The body swayed side by side, still warm. Still leaking. The woman hadn’t hung herself from far up enough to snap her neck, so she strangled slowly and painfully.

Dumbass, Lilly thought, finding it hard to scrounge up sympathy for the woman.

Woman could have saved herself the painful death if she just chugged sleeping pills with wine.

But people that desperate to flee reality rarely thought that rationally.

“Geh,” Lilly gasped, clutching at her head as another burst of pain shot through her. She was blinded, her vision going completely white at the influx of memories.

She fell to her knees, struggling to breathe from the intense pain. Her body quaked and trembled, unable to cope with the weight of her soul.

Too many memories. Too many lives. Too many deaths.

If she could forget then the body would carry on without needing her entire soul to be there. She could rest a bit more. She could sleep in death’s kind arms--

But, no.

Again.

Again.

She woke up again in a body too small and immature to handle the weight of her memories.

Lilly was what many referred to as an old soul.

It was not that her soul was older than the others around her, more so that her soul tended to retain the memories and knowledge of her previous lives.

Whereas death granted most souls a clean slate before their next life, Lilly was not permitted the same courtesy.

She was, mockingly, a Blessed being.

The pain subsided, the small body quivering.

How old am I now? Lilly wondered. Which world is this? Where--?

Panting, the old soul glanced around the house. Most of it looked like an average house on Earth from the early 2000s or late 1900s. None of it was in disarray so probably not apocalyptic.

Not completely normal though, Lilly thought, feeling how sensitive her spiritual energy was in her current body.

If was born in a powerless world, she wouldn’t have woken up. The fact that she woke up meant there was something about that world that made it special.

Maybe a Hero will be born here? Will a Story happen?

Her head throbbed again, her soul and energy aching from the strain of being awoken in a premature body. Lilly stumbled around the house, every so often feeling another spike of her insides burning.

It was not too dissimilar to swallowing lava. On top of the pain, she was nauseous, unbearably hot, and had significant difficulty in trying to focus on what was in front of her. Every step was a milestone. Her soul yearned to burst out of the fragile body, to preemptively rejoin death.

Not yet. I woke up here for a reason. There’s always a reason, Lilly thought. She fumbled around the house, searching for anything that could give her a better idea of where she was.

No computer. I think I see a landline phone, though, Lilly thought.

When she went to use it, however, only silence could be heard. She frowned, then hesitantly moved to flick on the lights.

Nothing happened.

Uwa… did I accidentally fry the tech trying to contain my energy? Lilly wanted to groan.

She hated being reborn in tech-sensitive worlds. If her spiritual energy was too overwhelmign for the technology, it became such a hassle. It meant she had to consciously filter, repress, and refine her energy any time she had to use it when around technology.

Whatever.

Time to find a neighbor then, she thought.

Stepping outside the house, Lilly found a bizarre scene. There was a mailman who collapsed right at the door, and judging from how still he was, she could tell he wasn’t breathing.

Lilly stared at the dead body. She looked up and found several crashed cards and more dead bodies.

Oh.

“Oops,” she said.

.

<Skipping several scenes & time skip>

.

March 8, 2001

Lilly was minding her own business the following day. Yuuta was swaddled and placed in a baby wrap carrier that Lilly tied around herself. She kept his head well supported, it rested in the crook of her neck.

It had been a while since she had repeatedly cast so many illusionary and compulsion spells. She knew it couldn’t be helped--she was in the body of a seven-year old, of course the adults wouldn’t take her too seriously.

She had finished authenticating his birth certificate, adoption papers, and was on her way to handle funeral arrangements for his mother. Lilly had already made a few tentative and brief ventures into the world to steal (shamelessly) steal money so she had cash on hand in case the woman hadn’t made prior plans for herself--which guessing by how optimistic she was, Lilly assumed the answer was no.

Yuuta was an easy crier, which made what would have been a thirty-minute errand into a two-hour errand since a lot of that time was spent soothing the infant.

Lilly could feel he had more spiritual energy inside him than some of the adults she had previously encountered, but it was still growing.

If her hunch was correct and he was a protagonist--or antagonist--then she figured his energy would only continue to grow.

Maybe I should start feeding him some of mine? Lilly pondered. If she doubled or tripled the raw power of someone important, what would Fate do? Would it increase the power levels of everyone else to match, or would it give away under her pressure?

She didn’t know the story--if there was one in that world--so she had no way of knowing what to anticipate. She could only catch the common signs and draw her own predictions from her past experiences.

Let’s find out, Lilly thought.

<Scenebreak>

Daiki Choki was had recently completed his mission to vanquish an A-Grade Curse at a nearby graveyard. It had gone much smoother than he anticipated, and the Jujutsu Sorcerer was looking forward to his pay.

As he was leaving the graveyard, however, he felt something… odd.

It was indescribable. A sensation he had never encountered.

Similar… very similar… to encountering a powerful Curse, but…

It was a Curse, yet it was not.

It clearly had a presence. He felt an uncomfortable heat wash over him, as if the thing was projecting an aura of fire, but it was not malicious. Curses were filled with malevolent bloodlust, but what he felt lacked that intensity.

It was still dangerous, that heat.

Perhaps not directly evil, but…

If he had to put it into words, it was as if he had stumbled across a forest fire. The fire held no ill-will, but it was still a dangerous force that if left unchecked would devour the entire forest.

Daiki did not feel that it was especially powerful, however, so he made his way over to it.

To his surprise, it took the form of a small girl holding something in a budle of cloth. She was entering the funeral parlor.

Daiki frowned. Curses had never looked human before.

Suppose there’s always a chance it’s possessing her corpse, Daiki thought. He may not have encountered that specific scenario before, but he didn’t see a reason why it couldn’t happen.

Curses weren’t human, but they were tricky by nature.

Daiki lingered outside the mortician’s office, wondering if he would need to follow after the curse. He hated fighting near civilians, but--

The Curse left, as if sensing something was wrong.

But that’s silly, thought Daiki.

It headed straight past the building, making its way to the graves behind. Daiki followed behind it, slowly pulling his gun.

The Curse stopped, turning around to face Daiki. Its eyes were a vibrant red.

“Why are you focusing on me?” it asked.

Oddly articulate for a curse, the Sorcerer thought, raising his gun and taking aim. He smirked. “Don’t worry about it, Curse.”

“Curse? What--?”

He fired, and then his whole world tilted upside down. He hadn’t even felt it happening, let alone seen it, but somehow his head had been chopped off his body the moment he pulled the trigger. The Curse, who had been several steps ahead of him, was suddenly crushing his gun in her bare hand, scowling at him.

“If I had let that gone off, you woulda woken him,” she scolded the decapitated head. “Rude.”

[thenamesseven]

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Mentions of blood and murder.

An hour could have easily passed since the moment you had woken up but you honestly were too hesitant about getting out of bed. This was the first time you were left alone since you got here, there weren’t any vampires trying to murder you around and Minghao hadn’t returned since he ran away from you.

Buried in the bunch of blankets the bed had, you stared up at the dark red ceiling trying to clear your mind and think about your next step. Minghao had been nice enough to not only tell you about their past but to also show you what happened the night that scarred their lives forever but despite it showing that they seemed to be normal human beings before tragedy beaten them up, you had barely gotten any answers from what you saw. In fact, you only had even more questions now, who was the old woman that ran away? She must have known what had happened and that’s why she got out of the cabin in time but what did all of that had to do with you?

Groaning, still feeling a little sore after all the running and torturing you’ve been through, you sat up on the mattress, still making sure there was nobody around since the thought of them leaving you totally unsupervised sounded too weird to you.

Did they really think you wouldn’t try to run away?

Quietly, afraid that they would be behind the door hearing every single sound you made, you pushed the covers back and away from your body, unconsciously shivering when the cold air caressed your skin. With hesitating movements, you made your way out of the warm, comfortable bed Minghao had left you in, your body going straight into alarm mode once your feet landed on the cold, wooden floor.

You didn’t even waste time looking for shoes or socks, ignoring the cold sensation, you made your way to the door and before you could regret your own decisions, you opened it and poked your head out to take a look at the long hall.

A deathly silence met you.

The only sound that you could hear nearby was your pounding heart, hitting your ribcage as adrenaline pumped through your veins. This was your first real chance of escaping since you arrived to the mansion and you were not going to waste it. What would happen if you failed was still a mystery but that wasn’t going to stop you, staying here would mean ending up dead, Jun stated this clearly and you still thought you were too young to lose your life here.

“You can do this” You whispered to yourself, still studying the long, quiet corridor as if you expected to see one of the guys. “You can do this” You repeated to yourself in a louder, more determined voice than before in order to unfreeze your body that seemed to be stuck by the door.

Despite your strong enthusiasm for being left alone and able to attempt to escape, there was something deep down in your heart that told you something was definitely wrong here. There has not been a moment when one of the guys left you absolutely alone, even when Mingyu allowed you to sleep in his room, Jihoon showed up as soon as he could.

Why wasn’t somebody around then?

Maybe Minghao, willing to make you trust them, had left you alone to give you the privacy you’ve never had since Wonwoo took you to their home. Maybe he truly thought you wouldn’t try to run away from them after what he showed you. Unfortunately for him, you were still as determined to leave the house as in the beginning.

“Sorry Minghao, I have to get out of here” Whispering those words to yourself, you stepped out of the room that seemed to belong to you and started your little trip in search of an exit.

What you hadn’t noticed though was that, the second oldest brother of the family, Yoon Jeonghan, had been in your room this entire time. You’ve been so focused on getting out of the room the whole time that you didn’t take your time to glance around the room but if you had done that, you would have seen him sitting there on the arm chair besides the window, one leg crossed over the other and eyes glued to your body the whole time.

You would have seen the way his lips tilted up mockingly when you whispered encouragingly to yourself, did you still think you could get out of here?

Pathetic.

His hands gripped the arms of the chair as he held himself back, he couldn’t play with you yet, letting you have some hope before crushing it down would be way more entertaining than simply hunting you down and drinking some of your blood while trying to kill you. That was what everybody, or at least, most of the brothers you’ve encountered so far had tried to do, nobody had messed up your determination yet and blood tasted so much better when it was tainted with desperation and sadness.

You would taste so so good after letting you run around for a little before locking you down into a coffin forever.

Besides, he was the only one left that would be able to kill you, the rest of the brothers that had to meet you weren’t too keen on making you vanish thanks to Minghao’s stupid beliefs and words, even Seungcheol wanted to spend some time with you before deciding what to do. Nobody understood how hard it was for him, for Jihoon or Seungkwan to be around you.

The curse was too strong on them and they would not be able to live comfortably knowing there was a possibility of reliving that night, of turning into that monster again. Jeonghan would be strong enough and sacrifice his own sanity to kill who seemed to be the love of his life reincarnated in somebody else to save his brothers, he had to do it for his family, there was no other way to deal with this.

When you walked out of the room, the vampire sighed to himself looking down at his own hands. His brothers had trusted him with this mission when each of them failed, Jeonghan didn’t understand what had been so difficult about the whole thing though. Everyone had been so determined to end your life that he had doubted he would ever get to meet you once you stepped into their home. However, each of the brother’s attempts had turned into failure after failure, some of them hadn’t even tried to hurt you and the male couldn’t help but feel slightly intrigued. Was it true? Would you remind him of his girlfriend? The one who stole his heart before he stole her life? 

Shaking his head Jeonghan stood up, those thoughts wouldn’t help him at all with the mission he had been trusted to do, after all he was aiming to kill you, not to let you go like the rest of his family has done.

“Run kitty run” He whispered standing up, brushing off some inexistent dust from his clothes “Run before the lion gets you”

Wandering down the hall by yourself, you could still hear your heart beating loudly with every step you took. Genuine fear and worry filled your head, you literally had no idea where you were going yet you somehow felt like this would be your last chance to get out of the house. There was something though, this wrong sensation that you couldn’t shake off no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t put your finger onto what it was exactly but it was making you feel really uneasy since the moment you stepped out of the room.

Maybe it was simple fear for the unknown. You were in a totally new environment with people that weren’t humans anymore, creatures that had drunk your blood and wanted to kill you. Maybe you were simple scared about the possibility of running into one of them before you could find the exit or it could also be the thought of dying here without somebody knowing what really happened to you. It was all so frightening, so scary that it made the option of giving up slightly tempting.

If you truly thought about it, you were insignificant besides them. They were vampires, for God’s sake, there was nothing you could do against them since their supernatural body was stronger and faster than you. Not only that but the fact that there were thirteen of them lurking around…This truly was a lost battle.

“I’m such an idiot” You muttered sighing, stopping on your tracks and just standing there.

This was the first time this feeling had appeared since you were kidnapped. You’ve always tried to be determined and strong, to keep up the hope of getting out of the mansion somehow but staying positive was starting to get tiring, it was becoming blinding, not letting you see what you were truly dealing against with.

Thirteen vampires versus one human. It simply was impossible.

“Damn it”

Hot tears filled your eyes as you looked up to the painting in front of you, stealing your breath once again. It was a rose which stem was full of thorns, despite knowing it would be painful to pick it up, the flower looked so beautiful that you knew you would reach out to it and grab it without hesitation. Its petals dripped blood and at some point, you questioned yourself if the rose was truly red or if it had been a white rose tainted by the blood. 

Standing at the opposite end of the hall Jeonghan watched you carefully, sighing disappointed when you gave up so easily on your task of looking for the exit. There wasn’t going to be any fun at all if he only scooted you up, guided you into his room and killed you before you could do something about it. What he liked was the thrill of the chase, the begging, the tears…And he knew he would get none of that in the state you were in right now, it was easily to see in your expression that you were considering to give up. Could he blame you though? Fighting against one vampire would be almost impossible for a human, imagine with thirteen of them lurking around the house.

It still bothered him though, if he was going to do this he wanted to have some fun while succeeding, it would feel like he was doing a simple task if he didn’t come up with something.

Unluckily for you, Jeonghan could have such a creative mind.

You just managed to force your eyes away from the painting when your eyes landed on something else. A vampire seemed to have been standing there behind you, for how much time? You didn’t know, you probably had been to mesmerized by the painting in front of you to even notice him approaching. When he saw you stumbling back, he reached out and held your upper arm gently, keeping you on your place instead of letting you fall down onto the floor.

Still in absolute silence, not knowing what to say about this whole situation, you took a quick glance at him. This guy looked totally ethereal, his hair was probably as white as his delicate skin, his features so soft and gentle that it made you almost trust him instantly. Maybe it was because he was pale but his lips looked specially red, constantly bringing your attention down onto them when you tried to focus on his eyes. They were blue, as blue as the sky on a sunny day and so hypnotizing. He looked so handsome and perfect that you doubted this was real.

“Minghao said you would be wandering around, sorry to startle you” Jeonghan smiled, deciding to break the silence between the two of you before that pretty little brain of yours could start conspiring against him. He knew his brother would be mad at him for using his name into his cruel, filthy games but Jeonghan knew the easiest way to make you trust him would be if you thought he was on Minghao’s side.

The smile on his lips was nice, it looked friendly and the fact that he closed his lips enough to not show you his fangs and made you feel threatened had you trusting him in barely seconds. The fact that he seemed to have talked with Minghao about you had something to do with it too, Minghao wouldn’t have told him where you probably were if this guy had bad intentions right?

“Oh it’s okay” You said shaking your head, a small smile coming up to your lips “I guess I was just exploring a little by myself” You shrugged, you couldn’t just tell him you were looking for the exit. That would end your chances of being left alone again.

“Found the exit yet?” He asked with a playful smile this time, his fangs showing but not in a threatening way. A quiet chuckle escaped your lips when you shook your head, there was something about this guy that had made you relax quickly. His whole aura was simply alluring, if he was alive and lived in your society, he probably would have been those kind of people that were liked by everybody without a reason.

“Not yet I’m afraid, want to give me a hand?” You asked back looking at him, he shook his head.

“That would be too easy and no fun” He replied shrugging, meeting your eyes for a few seconds before looking away “Yoon Jeonghan” His name suited him, it sounded as smooth and refined as his whole presence.

“Nice to meet you” You simply replied, not bothering to say your own name since he probably knew it at this point. Everybody seemed to know you here despite you not knowing them.

“The pleasure is all mine” He reached out slowly, grabbing your hand to guide it up to his lips. The kiss he left there was soft, caressing your skin as he took in your scent. You smelled so good, so familiar that Jeonghan was almost pushed back into his scary past. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He asked looking up at the painting besides both of you, making you look away from his lips on your hand and back to the painting that had mesmerized you a few seconds ago.

“It is” You simply replied, remembering you had a similar conversation with Mingyu, the paintings in this mansion were just too beautiful to ignore them. “Do any of you paint? Or did you buy this somewhere?” You asked curiously, turning your head to look at him.

“Actually I painted this one” Jeonghan replied with a boyish smile, faking he was just slightly shy but also happy that somebody appreciated his art “Some of us paint when we’re bored, you know, eternity is just a long time to not pick any hobbies” 

“For productive people it might be like that” You scoffed, shaking your head a little “My lazy ass would spend eternity sleeping and watching angsty dramas while eating gallons of ice cream”

Your words punched the air out of Jeonghan’s lungs. What did you just say?

When he closed his eyes, he was back at that field his lover and him met every single night to stare up at the sky. They sat besides one another, in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence.

“What would you do if you were immortal?” Questions like this one weren’t surprising coming from her. She and Jeonghan always ended up getting a little bit too philosophical in their late rendezvous, this was why he loved her so much. He could talk with her about the silliest things in the world right after discussing such an important subject as immortality.

“Love you” He replied without hesitation, smiling brightly when she simply pushed him away, rolling her eyes fat him being so cheesy. “What? I’m not joking? There is nobody else in this universe that I would love to be immortal with” The soft blush on her cheeks made him chuckle, his eyes moving down to her hands that were fidgeting with the rose he gave her earlier.

“I’m serious though” She insisted, nudging him “Wouldn’t you want to try new things? Travel around the world? Read as many books as you could? Learn new languages?”

“God, would you seriously spend your immortality trying to learn new languages?” He asked frowning, that sounded so boring.

“Why not? I would be able to communicate wherever I would go” She replied not feeling embarrassed about her decision, smiling as she turned to look at him “What about you, Jeonghan?” 

“I would probably try to learn something new too, something related with art, actually” He replied sincerely, smiling a little at the thought “What about painting? Does it suit me?”

“Yeah, I can see you with a bunch of paint stains all over your face and clothes” She replied laughing softly, resting her head on your shoulder “At least I would be more useful than you” He said teasingly, nudging her side gently.

“Probably” She said giggling “We all know I would probably spend my eternity sleeping and reading those books that always make me cry while eating some berries-”

“Jeonghan?” Your voice snapped the vampire out of his deepest thoughts, bringing you back to reality, a cruel one where he hated himself for what he did hundreds of years ago.

Jeonghan was confused, you hadn’t used the same words exactly but the similarity in them, in the situation was undeniable. The male felt troubled, he felt the sadness breaking his non existent heart in tiny little pieces once again but he also felt the rage the curse caused him to feel. II was disturbing, frustrating and this feelings weren’t in his plan.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second” He said, a smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes this time “Let’s look for Minghao, he sent me out here to search for you”

You don’t know what it was exactly, but there had been a small shift in the atmosphere that made you immediately distrust Jeonghan. The reason was unknown, you couldn’t put your finger on what it was but your instinct was telling you to run away from this guy and fast. Unluckily for you, Jeonghan was fast to notice the change in your attitude and stood there ready to snap if it was needed.

“What is it?” He asked watching you carefully, not moving an inch in order not to scared you.

“Why is Minghao looking for me?” You asked in return, stepping back. You could see a figure standing at the end of the hall, someone familiar. Chan, wasn’t that his name? He stood there quietly, watching the scene unfold without intentions of intervening despite the looks of horror you were sending his way.

“Something about clean clothes, he said you would probably want to take a bath after all you’ve been through”

Jeonghan made a mistake, you’ve bathed hours ago when Minghao was still in the room with you, why would you want to bath again? Your eyes met for some brief seconds and that was exactly what you needed to make your body move away from there as fast as you could. 

Watching you running away, Jeonghan couldn’t help but sigh thinking this was simply bothersome, now that you’ve seen through his stupid façade there was no way you would make this easy for him. “Stop running for God’s sake” He exclaimed, loud enough for you to hear as you ran through the halls. He kept walking at a calm pace though, the sooner he started running the less time alive left you would have “(Y/N), be a good girl, darling” He insisted, hearing your heavy breathing as your steps became slower, more hesitant since you felt he was getting closer “This is not working in your favor”

Jeonghan walked around the corner, smirking when he stood face to face with you. He saw the panic in your eyes, the confusion as you tried to guess how he managed to catch up with you when you had been running full speed during the whole time.

“Gotcha”

In the blink of an eye, Jeonghan was pushing you back against the wall so hard that you thought you would end up passing out in his arms. Your vision became blurry and there was this beeping sound that echoed in your head, not letting you hear anything the vampire was saying. You opened your mouth to say something but not even a little sound came out. 

Your eyes were locked on Jeonghan’s smirk, the way he licked his lips and when his eyes drifted down to your neck everything around you became black.

Jeonghan stood there, right besides the table he had tied you down onto, a smirk on his face as he looked at his masterpiece. 

                …………………………………………………………………..

He could have killed you right there in the hall, suck every single drop of blood you had in your body but wasn’t that too boring? That wouldn’t be the poetic and dramatic death everyone was hoping you would have.

So in all his inspiration, Jeonghan had surrounded your naked body with red roses, some of them were white but they would soon turn red with your blood. He had tied you down with silk, something way more delicate and refined than rope and your eyes, the ones that resembled the eyes of his love were covered. It was a shame you wouldn’t get to see the beautiful scenery you would die in but he didn’t want to take the risk of looking into your eyes and regretting everything he was about to do.

He hadn’t touched you since he carried your body from the hall to his room, he wanted you to be alive and to feel the thrill of being hunted and murdered. It was, somehow, his quiet revenge for making them suffer like that, you were not the one to blame but you were the only one here that could take the blame for everything.

A gasp that escaped your lips brought Jeonghan’s attention back to you, the corner of his lips turned upwards as soon as you started fighting against the silk that kept your body glued to the cold, marbled table.

“No” You whispered, moving your body uselessly, attempting to get rid of the restraints he had placed on you “No, no, no, NO!”  Jeonghan scoffed, rolling his eyes a little as he approached you.

“Don’t beg, it will be useless” Jeonghan leaned forward, nose caressing your neck making you shiver “Your fate was death as soon as you found us, accept it“

You were still trying to understand what was going on when his hand wrapped around the upper part of your throat, depriving you of oxygen. Your lips parted in an attempt to get the oxygen your lungs so much needed but if Jeonghan didn’t let go of it you would die soon.

“J-Jeonghan” You stuttered, feet kicking the table, body shivering knowing death was nearby “Please” 

Again he was pushed back to the past, back to the cabin, exactly when he was cornering the female he had loved so endlessly. His mind was playing tricks on him, this couldn’t be happening now.

“Shut up!” He shouted, hand squeezing even harder. You whined under the pressure painfully, if he didn’t choke you, he would surely ended up breaking your neck by the force he was using. “Shut up! You need to die! We can’t live like this!”

“Jeonghan” You called out to him breathlessly once again, making him groan in desperation. He couldn’t see your eyes but Jeonghan was sure that if he took the blind fold off he would get to see the same fear he saw in his lover’s eyes that night. “Don’t” 

“Fuck this”

Without thinking it anymore, Jeonghan let your throat go and before you could have time to catch your breath he sank his fangs into you, reaching as deep as he could as the sound of your painful scream echoed in the room.

Despite you being blindfolded your vision turned white, the pain was unbearable and you didn’t know if it was because of the bite or because of the way he was sucking blood out of you like there was no tomorrow.

If there was a moment you would think you would die in this house, it definitely was this one.

Jeonghan was absolutely lost in your taste, he had only meant to take a sip before letting you bleed all out and die alone in the room but you were so addicting, so delicious that once he started swallowing there was no way in this world he could move himself away from you. He was so lost in you, that he didn’t hear two of his brothers barging in the room.

“Jeonghan! STOP!”

You were losing consciousness, you weren’t even sure if what you were hearing was real anymore but the first voice that you heard seemed really familiar to Minghao’s. Was he here to save you? Maybe he just wanted to help his brother to finish the task.

“No” You voiced out weakly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you were about to pass out once again.

Knowing your life was in danger, Minghao ripped Jeonghan’s body away from you, shoving him across the room. “Chan save her, don’t let her die again, please” Minghao begged the youngest brother, glancing at him for some brief seconds before turning to Jeonghan who was ready to jump onto you again. “Get her out of here”

Chan was too busy trying to keep his eyes away from your naked form, you probably didn’t want to be like this in front of them and he wanted to respect that. Hearing Minghao’s words gave him enough determination to do something though, after all, wasn’t he the one who had searched for help as soon as he had seen you with Jeonghan? Despite all the pain you made him feel, he didn’t want to lose you a second time, he couldn’t afford it.

“(Y/N)” He said your name quietly, desperation filling him when you didn’t reply “Baby come back to me” He whispered, hands pressing onto the blood that kept coming out of your neck. His eyes turned red, his fangs came out ready to bite you but he wouldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it right now.

“I won’t let you die again”

[headoverjojo]

Ask box open? Ohmygosh, my patience has paid off!! 💕💕 Okay! Umm...Could I request hcs of La Squadra with an older Sister who is taller and physically stronger than them? She knows how dangerous and deadly they could be with their stands, but when it comes ti hand to hand combat she can whoop them no problem. And she embarrasses them sometimes when they give her some kind of attitude for treating them like kids, and she bonks them on the head very hard and fireman carries them into time out.

Hellooooo, darling!! Aaaaaa I’m happy to see you’re happy too ❤️❤️ Ooooh I loved this one!! I’m always soft for the squad and their family members :,) And so! Here we go! I hope you’ll like it :3

La Squadra di Esecuzione with an older sister who’s taller and physically stronger than them

(Under the cut for length!)

Risotto Nero

Risotto always deeply admired his big sister. She was strong, determined, and stubborn! She was also extremely fair, not holding back when she had to scold little Risotto when he was wrong; but, when he was right and she saw someone being rude to him, well… hell was unleashed. No one could dare to touch or be rude to her little brother! Risotto always watched to her and her example. He trained to be like her, he worked on himself to be as fair and charismatic as her… and it worked! Years later, his sister was proud of him. Yes, his profession wasn’t… common, but he never was an infamous man, even if he was the leader of a criminal team. He always had a certain honor, and she was still in his life… she couldn’t complain!

Even if she hadn’t red eyes or white hair, she was still as intimidating as her brother. She was really, really tall, even taller than him! And -and this was what impressed for real the other Squadra members- she wasn’t scared of Risotto, not even the slightest. She was maybe the only person in the world allowed to pinch his cheeks and to ruffle his hair. And, even if she was impressed and proud of his brother’s powerful stand, she wasn’t scared of it. Her brother wouldn’t have ever hurt her! As she wouldn’t have ever hurt him too.

While Risotto had the advantage of his stand, her sister had her strength on her side. It was almost impossible to believe -and Formaggio had to see it with his own eyes-, but Risotto’s sister was stronger than him when it came to hand-to-hand fights! Even after all those years, Risotto had still something to learn, and she was the only person he trusted to teach him some moves. Still, the sight of Risotto, that tower of muscles, whooped with easiness by a woman was incredible! Formaggio never told it to anyone -he was too scared to be whooped too-, but, oh, he surely never forgot it!

Even if he was the leader of the feared Squadra Esecuzioni, he was still her little brother, in her eyes. And she didn’t take well a certain attitude, even from him! Yes, a couple of times she accidentally was over affectionate while the others were present too, but this wasn’t enough to justify his grumbles and low complains! And, when she has had enough of his attitude, she gives him a little -for her standards- slap on the back of his head. Or, well, she did so until she accidentally hit him with too strength and launched his face right on the hard wood of his desk, making his nose bleed. From then on, no more slaps! Still, even those little accidents never made Risotto’s affection for her waver. He just loves his big sister!

Prosciutto

Prosciutto is the youngest kid from his family. He has four older sisters, but the one he loves the most is the youngest sister, who’s almost seven years older than him. While their parents were busy, she took care of him, passing him her same cockiness, stubbornness and creativity. Prosciutto respected and loved all his sisters, of course, but with the youngest one he always had a special relationship, even if they often fought, as they had a similar character. Maybe this was the reason they so fiercely protected each other, no matter what or where they were. All his sisters were family… but she was even more “family”. She was strong and confident, but also kind and gentle; she was the most incredible person he had ever met.

Prosciutto’s family had been blessed with a good height and this shows in his sisters too. They all are tall, but his favourite sister is the tallest. Even taller than him! And she likes to tease him about it, making him grumble and pout, like he did when he was a child. Everyone else would face his wrath, but he lets his sister do basically everything to him. He knows she doesn’t tease him in a bad way. And, when she sees him still pouty and offended, she always brings him a piece of his favourite cake, kissing his hair and apologizing for hurting him, while he hides a little, evil smile. Pouting always brings benefits, when her sister is around!

Being the kids of a leader of a small criminal gang affiliated to Passione, Prosciutto and his sister grew up knowing how to fight even before learning how to walk. But his closer sister was the most badass of them all! And the strongest, when it came to hand-to-hand fighting. Her punches were devastating, her kicks powerful; more than once she made men way bigger than her run away crying. Prosciutto always cheered for her and admired her strength; he wanted to be like her! And, also, he knew it was better not to make her angry; she would have swoop him in a matter of seconds, even in front of his friends, The Grateful Dead or not!

Speaking of stands, his sister always found extremely funny his stand. She always said it looked weird, but also cute, in a certain way, and that she found hilarious that it actually aged him to his real soul age. Prosciutto always huffed and pouted, but never used it on her; well, the only time he did, reversing her to an old lady, he was swooped anyway. Even then she still was stronger than him!

Pesci

Pesci’s big sister had always been at his side, helping him in every possible way. She was here when little Pesci was bullied and mocked for his appearance, and she was the one who furiously fought against her parents when they “sold” Pesci to the mob in order to repay their debts. The thing Pesci remembers more clearly from his childhood is his sister and how ridiculously strong and hot-headed she was. Even if sometimes he too had tested her strength -if he had a certain attitude he always received a slap on the back of his head-, he always admired the way she claimed respect from others and how vigorously protective she was towards people she loved. She was strong enough to protect her family… Pesci wanted to be like her too. He too wanted to protect his family and the people he loved!

Prosciutto was the one in the team who knew better Pesci’s sister, as he had taken the role of his big brother. She wanted to know him, to know him well; she couldn’t leave her little brother to some random weirdo! The first thing Prosciutto noticed about her -and how could he have missed it?- was how tall she was. Almost as tall as Risotto! And definitely taller than her brother and himself. Prosciutto learned soon that Pesci’s sister wasn’t a person to mess up with; he thought he was dying, after her powerful kick. He accepted that she was and always would have been part of Pesci’s life, whatever Prosciutto had to say about it!

Even when he was a mobster and, then, a member of the Squadra, Pesci’s sister always supported him. She was really proud of his stand, and always encouraged him to try to explore every use of his Beach Boy, both for daily tasks and missions. Yes, it wasn’t the life she had dreamed for her little brother, but now it was too late to go back. She could just prepare him and pray to see him coming home every day, safe and sound. And so, she always tried to teach him how to fight and defend himself when he couldn’t use his stand; Pesci learned a lot from her. Even so, he still couldn’t ever beat her, even if he was quite strong himself!

Being so protective, sometimes she slipped into a too motherly behaviour. On a normal occasion, Pesci wouldn’t have minded it, even enjoying his sister’s attentions; but he couldn’t do it when he was with his comrades! He hated to keep her far, but he wanted to be respected by his teammates, and he couldn’t achieve it when his sister was coddling him! The first time she was so hurt that he slapped him on the back of his head, making him stumble; but then, she understood she was wrong and, so, when he’s with his teammates, she stays quiet and calm. Until one of them starts to bully her little brother!

Formaggio

Honestly, having a big sister was Formaggio’s luck. If, in spite of everything, he still is a quite decent human being it’s thanks to her. When their father was too drunk to care for them, she did it in his place, making sure to send her little brother to school and trying to make their life as bearable as possible. There is no human being Formaggio respects as much as he does with his sister. She is the most important authority in his life, his rock, the person who taught him everything! Formaggio was a bratty and restless kid, and she had to work hard to keep in line. If someone was rude or, even, beat her little brother, she had no hesitation in going to beat them too -especially if they were older than Formaggio, and it was usually like this.- She was strong and her punches made more than a boy fall back; and not twinks, but big men, mountain of muscles! Formaggio always wanted to be like her. And, more or less, he managed to do it. She’s still taller than him, and stronger too, but he obtained a stand!

Formaggio never loses a chance to show her big sister his stand. He’s really proud of his Little Feet! And her sister is proud too. At least until he uses it to prank her in various ways, which always earns him a bonk on the back of his head. Formaggio learned it wasn’t a good idea to prank her sister when she bonked him when he wasn’t still at his usual form, making him fly to the other side of the room. She was so sorry about it! But she also couldn’t stop laughing, while Formaggio was grumbling and complaining, only to end up laughing too with her. He wanted to prank and, in the end, he was the one pranked!

Formaggio is really protective over his sister, as much as she’s with him. Other than his big sister, she was also, basically, his father and mother, as they were absent from their life. And, so, sometimes she slips into motherly behaviour, especially when it’s about food. She always grumbles that he has to eat healthy food, and that he has also to clean a little more his house! Sometimes, he talks back, mocking her scoldings, and this is something that makes her so damn angry. He’s still a brat, even after all those years! Not even Little Feet can save him from the punitive bonk on the back of his head. And, after that, even while grumbling and complaining, Formaggio always starts to clean or to eat healthy, at least for a while. He knows too well that his sister is able to whoop his ass in a second, gangster or not! He may have a stand, and a quite powerful stand, thank you very much, but she’s still the real powerhouse when it comes to hand-to-hand fight! Formaggio would never want to have to fight her. He knows he’d be KO in a matter of minutes!

Melone

Melone has always been smaller for his age, and too skinny. Due to his lack of good physical strength and “oddity” -he was the science kid, the nerdy kid- the other kids often used him as punching ball. Melone had a certain pride, however; he wanted to fix his situation all alone, and so he never said it to his parents, finding more and more excuses to justify his bruises. He confided the real reason of his bruises just to his big sister, the person he trusted the most in the world. She wasn’t much older than him, but she was already taller than average for her age, and she was way stronger too! She tried to respect her little brother’s will, but, when he came home bleeding from his nose and with a black eye, it was too much. She went straight to “talk” to the bullies, and, from that day, they didn’t come near Melone again. They were scared by his big sister! And his admiration for her just grew and grew. She was so strong and cool! He wanted so much to be like her…

Their paths, for a while, diverged. She went on with her life, and he entered the mob. But, finally, they reunited, and it was like nothing was changed in those years. She was still taller than him, stronger and protective! She wasn’t happy to know he was a mobster -he wasn’t expecting so-, but, despite everything, she decided to be part of his life when many other people would have chosen to just go without turning back. Melone was happy to have her back in his life, even if, sometimes, she was a little overwhelming! Especially when it came to his feeding. He was underweight and she had always tried to help him to reach a weight that at least didn’t show his bones. So, she always closely checked his meals, to be sure they were healthy and caloric. When he was a teenager, sometimes he snapped at her, earning a little bonk on the back of his head. He was her beloved little brother, but this didn’t mean he could be mean at her! And this didn’t change even when he was a grown man. He was still her little brother and she wanted to protect and take care of him!

She was surprised to come to know about stands. She was quite impressed with her brother’s stand! It was so peculiar and, in some ways, even nerdy, like he was! Still, she knew he would have never used it against her. And, when her brother had a stand, she still had her punches! Even her brother’s teammates had had a taste of them, when she caught them being rude to Melone. No one had to even think to hurt him, mobsters or not! Soon enough, everyone in the team came to respect and even fear a little Melone’s fierce sister. She wasn’t someone to mess up with!

Illuso

Illuso’s sister was the only person able to make him open up. He was a really reserved kid, who preferred to observe in silence and who rarely actively took part in whatever was going on. Just his older sister was able to make him live, to make him enjoy a little his life in Venice, a place he wanted to escape from with all his heart. And, as soon as he could, he did so, joining the mob. Still, he always remembered fondly his sister. She was tall, way taller than him, and ridiculously strong. When someone screamed at Illuso, calling him bad names, she was already chasing after them, making sure to send them home with a couple of bruises. She wasn’t scared of anything, and she was stubborn and, sometimes, even overbearing. At the same time, however, she was fair, kind and sweet, always knowing when her little brother needed a gentle word, more than an energetic prompt. Illuso loved his sister with all his heart and she was the only one of the family he still wanted to see, after joining Passione.

His sister was really curious about his stand. She didn’t even imagine that one’s fighting spirit could be embodied in something more or less physical! And Man in the Mirror’s power was amazing! She was impressed by the various and ingenious ways her brother thought for using it at his full potential. He had always been curious and inventive, and now these qualities were shining! Still, she was a bit bitter when she noticed that his teammates, sometimes, made fun of his stand, not particularly set for murders -not that Illuso ever told her what he really did for living; she just knew he was a mobster in a special team-. Once, she challenged them all to beat her at arm wrestling. Illuso felt cold sweat running down his spine; he knew too well what kind of powerhouse his sister was! And it seemed that his teammates understood it too, when they saw how intimidating and tall she was. She beat them all, and no one dared to go against her or Illuso again. Illuso never forgot that moment!

As much as he was quiet when he was observing something, Illuso was also a cocky little shit, when he wanted to. And, when he was so with his sister too, she didn’t even lose time to feel hurt or such; she slapped him on the back of his head, telling him to watch his language, no matter if they were alone or in front of his teammates. Once, she slapped him a little too hard, sending him right into the mirror world through the little hand mirror he was studying, making Prosciutto snort in his drink. From then on, Illuso always checked twice what he was going to say to his sister!

Ghiaccio

His relationship with his sister has always been… troubled. They share the same explosive character and, so, they often clashed in a spectacular way. Nonetheless, they would have killed to protect the other. They both were fiercely protective towards the other, even if people usually thought they hated each other, due to their continuous fights. Ghiaccio envied his sister because she was tall and strong; he tried everything to grow up to reach her height, but nothing worked, and, even in their adult life, she still outmatched him. She usually didn’t bring it, as he was still bitter over it, but sometimes she couldn’t resist to lightly tease him! And, to make amend for her little fun, she always offered to teach him a new fighting move. It always made him relax and even smile!

Ghiaccio was proud of his stand. In his humble opinion, White Album was the most powerful and awesome stand in the world, and no one could beat it! He always wanted to show it to his sister, every time they met. And his sister was really impressed! It was powerful and dangerous, but she wasn’t scared of it. At most, she found absolutely adorable the little cat ears on his helmet, making him grumble and complain! Even so, he never attacked her. Anyone would have been freezed to death, but not her. She was the only one who could talk to him as she wanted and who could even mess a little with his hair -another absolutely forbidden thing-; she had always been the only one who actually gave a damn about it, she had earned her privileges!

Being the older sister, she always felt the need to protect Ghiaccio from the world around them. Even now, and even knowing that he’s strong and absolutely able to protect himself, she still, sometimes, slips, ending up coddling him and being a little too protective towards him. If the team isn’t around, Ghiaccio doesn’t complain. He quite… likes, when someone actually cares about him. It’s a nice feeling. However, if his teammates are around, he doesn’t accept her attentions, ending up always chasing her away or telling her something rude, and this, usually, ignites another fight. And, White Album or not, if they come to hand-to.hand fighting, she always wipes the floor with his ass, no matter what. She’s actually the only one who can manage to do it, and Ghiaccio feels a cautious respect for her incredibly strength. He doesn’t say it loud, but he thinks that not even Risotto could outmatch her! And, even if she, sometimes, really gets on his nerves, he couldn’t be prouder of her. That’s his big sister, and no one can mess with her!

[maddiefriendlovesbilly]

If you feel up for writing more ever all I crave is Ghost angst Constantly S a d //it can have a happy or sad ending if you want I just need to agressively throw my emotions at a fiction character who is also sad//

So anon, I know its been like a few Months or something since you requested this, but here it is,,, Ghost angst!! I can’t tell you my plans because that would spoil the surprise but what I can say is: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I present to you:

Once More, This Time With Feeling

Rating: PG-13 (but rating may go up), SFW for now

Ship: Ghost/Spooker

Warnings: Angst, emotional turmoil, Ghost being an idiot feelings-wise, dark/intrusive thoughts, blocking others out, next chapter may have more warnings

Summary: The P.I.E. team head out for a seemingly normal case, but things quickly spiral out of control, and Ghost ends up in quite a unique circumstance, to say the least.

Word Count: 3,516

Nothing unusual happens, before it all starts, nothing that would indicate how utterly to shit everything goes in a mere matter of hours. There are no red flags, or bad omens, or warning signs. Everything seems as normal as it can be when you’re a paranormal investigator for a living - so when the call comes in for a fairly simple job, Ghost accepts and gives the woman an ETA before shouting a quick, “We’ve got a job!” down the hall and slinging his satchel over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door. He hears a distant whoop from Spooker just before he exits, to which he rolls his eyes.

The car ride is uneventful, save for some antics with Toast’s driving license - or lack thereof. They reach the large office building a few minutes before he said they would, and the woman has a look like she’d be pleased if the situation weren’t so distressing - he’s been met with similar looks much more than one might expect. He walks over and introduces him and his team, all business, and only grimaces slightly when he introduces Spooker, though he thinks the woman might have noticed nonetheless. 

She’s mocha-skinned, a fraction taller than Ghost and perfectly kempt, with a perfectly trimmed bob and rigid posture that scream, “Inconvenience me, I dare you.” An immaculate suit and tie complete the look.

Her name is Christine Hemmingway, and she explains that she works in the office behind her as a supervisor - during a recent trip to the basement, she discovered a strange new door leading to a series of branching underground tunnels reaching lengths she can’t accurately estimate without entering them - an idea she wisely rejected outright - but, from what little she saw from the entrance, might span the entire downtown area. She heard noises, possibly talking, along with a faint ebbing glow, coming from one of the tunnels on the right, but shut the door before she could see who, or what, it was when the sounds went quiet and she heard footsteps approaching. When Ghost asks, she’s adamant the door wasn’t there before, and has replaced a water cooler and a stubby filing cabinet too short to conceal the door, both of which have disappeared completely.

Looking up at the building Ghost notes that it looks completely empty, and asks Christine if she has a way inside, to which she nods and pulls out a key card with her face on it, handing it to him while saying, “Lose this, and you’ll regret it - one, because you won’t be able to get out, and two, because you’ll have to explain to security why you’re inside a business outside office hours, and while I’m sure they’d just love to hear the story of a spooky new door in the basement, I doubt it will save you from being charged with breaking and entering.” Ghost nods and after unlocking the front door and jamming his foot in the crack, he tucks the card safely inside his bag. He hears Toast mutter something like, “Wouldn’t be the first time,” and snorts inelegantly.

Christine looks like she’s starting to rethink her decision about hiring them, so Ghost spits out something professional sounding along the lines of, “We’ll do our best to find the cause of these tunnels, you can count on us ma’am,” and it seems to work pretty well, until Colon breaks the silence with a sharp cough that sounds suspiciously like laughter. Ghost fails to suppress a side-long glance his way, and does even worse at keeping a single brow from arching in question; Colon only “coughs” again, louder this time.

For the sake of his likely rapidly declining paycheck, he just sighs and opens the door, holding it there and waving the others inside. “After you.”

The others enter and he takes the rear, letting Toast lead them towards an elevator with a “1” printed beside it. Pressing the down arrow, Spooker comments, “Nice to use a normal, functioning elevator for once, usually they’re either busted or do something crazy, like move diagonally or something, and are bringing us somewhere that’ll probably try to kill us.”

They all huff varying degrees of laughter, and Ghost replies, “I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t know what you expected when you answered the job request, because “normal” stuff isn’t something we have an abundance of in the “paranormal investigation” line of work. It’s sort of in the name.”

Spooker shrugs and smiles at him dopily, and the elevator dings beside him, announcing its arrival as the door slides open. He flinches at the volume, smile faltering, and they quickly shuffle inside. Colon hits the ‘B’ button, cringing when it beeps too. The elevator shifts and, with a groan, begins its descent. They’re silent on the way down, apart from the occasional tapping of Toast’s foot, or the click-click of Ghost making sure his flashlight works. Spooker looks up at this, and Ghost can practically see his thoughts when he starts, and fumbles at the one clipped to his belt, mouthing “Oh!” He grabs it, looking quite pleased with himself.

Ghost feels something pool in his chest at the sight, much too fond for his liking, and when his lip twitches upwards in amusement, whatever was swelling in his chest immediately curdles. The not-quite-smile sours and congeals, writhing, until he’s left with a deep scowl and an aching where something softer once lay. Despite its unpleasantness, Ghost still finds the feeling easier to deal with; bitterness and discomfort were familiar, they kept him grounded in reality, rather than letting him get his hopes up only for them to be crushed yet again. He doesn’t know how Spooker stays so positive despite how often he’s rejected and let down, especially by Ghost - he doesn’t think he could completely bounce back from many of them, let alone do it as quickly as Spooker does.

As the elevator chimes its arrival to the basement, Ghost feels a sharp pain on his bottom lip, and swears under his breath when he realizes he’s worried his lip hard enough to draw blood. The other two are too far to hear it, but Spooker glances back from where he stands in the doorway, concerned. His eyes flick to Ghost’s lips - the bottom of which now has a small bump, and Ghost swipes his tongue over it unconsciously, tasting iron - and when he meets his eyes again Spooker seems even more worried. “Are you-” he starts, but Ghost interrupts before he can finish, responding, “It’s fine - just a cut,” and Spooker looks like he wants to point out that that isn’t what he was asking, but isn’t sure how, but it doesn’t matter because it’s shut him up for now. He slides past Spooker, deciding to just put aside the whole elevator ride for the time being - he can deal with it after they’ve completed the mission, once he’s alone. He schools his features to neutrality and makes his way across the room to where Toast and Colon are examining an old wooden door, ill-fitting in its modern surroundings. “I understand what she meant by ‘strange’ now,” he comments as he approaches.

“Yeah, definitely stands out, doesn’t it?” Colon shoots back, and rolls back onto his heels, taking in their surroundings.

“All I can really think about is all that paperwork they’re going to need to redo,” Toast interjects.

Ghost snorts, pushing past them, announcing, “Alright, let’s get this shit over with,” and gripping the rusty handle and turning it. He swings open the door to reveal an empty, narrow tunnel, too long for his flashlight’s beam to reach very far ahead, with archways presumably leading to similar tunnels. Spooker, being the last one in, shoves a nearby chair into the gap between the door and frame to keep it open, just in case.

They make their way down the main tunnel, shining their lights down the branches as they pass, every once in a while coming across a room, which they poke their head into, or an iron door - often locked, each with a small, barred window to see inside, and most leading to another seemingly identical tunnel, some complete dead ends, others to (sometimes totally barren) rooms - with no apparent rhyme or reason to their placement. Something about it all plants a growing seed of dread in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t place what it is that bothers him so much. None of these things are unusual to see in their investigations, and are all pretty by-the-book as entities’ lairs go, but maybe it’s the way it’s all laid out - there’s no practical way for them to search every single tunnel, that would take days, maybe weeks, so there’s no real way to know what to expect, and the door placement is so sporadic that it’s impossible to tell if something is locked because it’s important, or just another meaningless path to who-knows-where; maybe it’s that they’ve been walking for at least fifteen minutes and nothing has changed, other than the fact that he can’t see the door anymore, just a wall of darkness at their backs. There aren’t any lights, though Ghost does spot an empty sconce every so often, and Ghost isn’t afraid of the dark by any means, nor is he claustrophobic, but he can feel the darkness behind him like hands on his back, and the tunnel is carved just wide enough to almost fit two people side by side, with flawless smooth stone on all sides, and a ceiling that arcs just above Toast’s head at its peak, so close that Ghost worries it might come crashing down any moment. He doesn’t even know if these are even actual tunnels in the ground, or if they’re in another dimension, or between them - and he’d rather avoid repeating that experience, thank you very much.

Glancing around, the others don’t seem to be any more on alert than they usually are on missions, so he’s probably just overthinking it - but that explanation does little to quell the panic rising in his chest, which only grows larger, filling the space his lungs need to expand. He realizes he’s chewing on his lip again when the cut stings from being reopened. He digs his nails into his palm to bring himself back to the present, but the hands on his back have morphed into something colder, darker, and he can’t focus when, logically, he knows there’s nothing behind him but an empty tunnel and eventually an old door, but every instinct in his body is screaming that something is very, very wrong, and they need to leave right now, but he can't even tell if there’s still an available escape because the tunnel is so completely void of light and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He doesn’t see Colon take out his detector, and clearly jumps about a foot in the air when it shatters the silence with a shrill beep - and just when did it become so deathly quiet that the only sounds are their footsteps on the smooth, stone floor? - and when they look at him like he’s grown a second head he laughs awkwardly and says, “Warn a guy next time!”

Colon takes it at face value, and apologizes before turning back to the beeping machine in his hand; Toast gives him a look of “everything okay?” to which he shrugs, and Toast nods in understanding, probably planning on asking him about it later. Spooker seems unconvinced though, and while he doesn’t say anything, he steps just a fraction closer to Ghost, and maybe by doing so he’s admitting it’s not really fine, that nothing is, but nonetheless, he doesn’t move away. It’s not obvious with the close confines of the tunnel, but Spooker notices, and he smiles a little, but it’s tinged with sadness and something else Ghost can’t name.

That’s when the detector’s beeping spikes, turning frantic.

Everyone is on alert immediately, but Toast is the first one to motion in the direction of what sounds like approaching footsteps, bare on the cold stone floor. They all turn around to face whatever’s coming down the passage, the beeping steadily increasing as the footsteps get louder. A pale foot inches into the beam of one of their flashlights, quickly followed by another, and with it, the rest of the short, petite girl, a mop of tangled black hair hiding most of her face and slim shoulders. Her white dress drags behind her in chunks, shredded and stained from dragging across the ground.

Ghost feels his eyes widen, and realizes he’s stumbled back, pressing into Spooker, who’s practically holding him up by the shoulders. Through the strands of hair he can see a single eye staring out at the bodies crowding the narrow hall, and he knows it’s stupid, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s staring straight into him, even though she hasn’t glanced up once yet. He’s pretty sure he’s shaking now, and can only hope that Spooker hasn’t noticed, for the sake of his pride.

The ragged figure stops just inside the beam, finally looking up. She meets Ghost’s stare, and holds his gaze - they stay that way, matching each other in a silent battle of ‘who will crack first?’

“K-” he starts, “Katrina?”

Spooker shifts behind him, Ghost thinks he might be staring at him too. He doesn’t break away to check.

Katrina says nothing, only stares.

He takes a quivering step forward, feels Spookers hands fall from his shoulders, reaches out. Katrina still doesn’t look away, but she also doesn’t move away, so he takes another step towards her, then another, then another, until he’s right in front of her, hand merely an inch away from making contact. The flashlight in his hands quakes violently in his death-grip, but he drops a hand onto her shoulder, which is surprisingly solid. This seems to break Katrina from her trance though, and she screeches - not unlike a banshee, Ghost thinks distantly - clawing at him. 

He veers back, not quite quick enough to avoid the talons that just catch his cheek, leaving two shallow claw marks behind. The other three behind him break from their stupors and begin shouting, pushing themselves bodily between the two of them in an effort to protect him. Spooker makes it his job to confirm that Ghost is somewhat okay, before turning back to face the enemy in front of them.

Ghost’s cheek oozes blood, but not enough to really be worried, so he just holds one sleeve up to the cheek, letting it soak up the sticky liquid. The others have their guns trained on Katrina, but he can’t manage to make himself do the same, so he just ends up standing at the back, watching. He feels like a coward. Bile still threatens to claw its way out of his throat as he stands there numbly.

Behind her ratty tangles, she catches Ghost’s eyes once more, before disappearing altogether. He hears himself sobs her name under his breath, feels his legs wobble beneath him, but somehow manages to stay standing, despite the sickening dread swimming in the pit of his stomach. It doesn’t last long though, because soon, the group of them are hit with a wave of vertigo so strong, they fall to their knees collectively. Ghost chokes on his nausea. He squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the swimming feeling, and when he opens them again, the long, narrow hallway is gone, replaced instead by an inky black room.

He fumbles blindly at his belt, whipping out his flashlight and flicking it on. He pivots, but his flashlight quickly collides with an obstacle - one that responds with a sharp “Ack! Dude-!” in Spooker’s voice.

“Shit!” Ghost spits, stumbling back - not very far, mind you, being that he hits the wall behind him not two steps back - and proceeds to shine his light directly into Spooker’s eyes until he shields them. “Jeez-Jesus, dude, Jesus.” He finally lowers the light, dropping into a crouch. “I gotta-I can’t, man. Shit!” He takes in a shaky gulp of air and tries not to scream.

Spooker probably has that look he gets when he’s trying to play it cool and seem unconcerned - but just ends up looking confused instead - because Ghost can hear it in his voice when he says, “Are y-?” He clears his throat. “Do you uh-need me to-er take care of that scratch? It could get infected if we don’t uh, do that. Yeah.”

“It would probably help to find some light,” he says, with more bite to it than either of them were expecting, “Y’know, so we don’t blind each other in this pitch-ass-black room?”

Spooker wisely does not comment on that statement, simply takes out his own flashlight and sweeps the beam around the room, eventually coming to rest beside Ghost. He looks up, realizes his head is inches away from the door handle, and sighs wearily before rocking forward and up into a standing position, opening the door.

He’s sure that neither of them are expecting to be met with a completely foreign corridor, still narrow, but seemingly lived in, at least in the past. Dim lights flicker overhead, implanted in a tile ceiling, a stark contrast to the empty sconces and carved stone of the previous tunnel.

They glance at each other once, before shuffling into the hall. Ghost sees three other doors lining the hall - one on the end and two on the opposite wall - and makes his way to the closest one. He moves to try the knob, but is impeded by Spooker catching the hood of his jacket and dragging him back, tutting, “Nope! We’re dealing with your injuries before we do anything else!”

Ghost feels himself pouting, and quickly changes his expression into one more neutral before turning around; Spooker seems to see it nonetheless, because he placates him by saying, “It’ll only sting for a second, promise!”

He pulls him to the ground, and Ghost crosses his legs, resting his uninjured cheek on his hand. He’s very much not sulking right now, even if Toast would tease him for it if he were present. He especially doesn’t glare at the alcohol as Spooker pulls it out. He does hiss as Spooker dabs at his cut, and he can see how much Spooker is struggling to not roll his eyes.

Finally, he’s allowed to do actually important things, and walks to the door, gripping the handle. It rattles, staunchly denying him entry, so he moves on. The next one does the same, and he moves to the one at the end of the hallway, which thankfully swings open with a grating creak, revealing a dimmer, but otherwise identical hallway to the one behind him. He repeats the process, with the exact same result as the previous section. He glances back at Spooker before pushing open the door at the end, to reveal a slightly dimmer version.

Again, he tries the doors. Again, the one at the end is the only one that opens. The next hallway is slightly darker than the last.

Ghost’s stomach churns nervously, and he glances once more at Spooker, whose expression is starting to match his own.

The light quickly diminishes, and soon enough they’re flicking their flashlights back on. “Crap-” he hears behind him, just before their lights flicker once, twice, and die simultaneously. A familiar giggle echoes throughout the small corridor, and Ghost shivers, moving minutely closer to where he last saw Spooker. Ghost shakes himself and fumbles toward the end of the hall, using the walls to guide himself. “Try the other doors, I’ll try the one at the end of the hall.” He hits the end of the hall a little harder than he meant to, and is a little glad for the dark, even if it can’t hide the soft ‘thud’ that bounces through the room. The door rattles in its frame, unbudging, so Ghost throws over his shoulder, “This one’s stuck, what about the others?”

“No luck over he-Woah!” A slam ricochets throughout the small place - presumably the door meeting the wall in a less than pleasant fashion. “You good?” Ghost manages to get out without his worry peeking through, falling just short of nonchalant.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m alright, just caught me off guard. Let’s go.” They hobble through the doorway, which slams shut behind them. Ghost’s mind swims with deja vu for a second, but he can’t place the reason for it, so he decides to put it aside for the moment.

Ghost thinks later that if he had to choose the moment everything truly started going to shit, he might choose this one. Like the calm before the storm, or the eye of a hurricane, or some other cliché crap.

Either way, the soft click of the door locking behind them feels like an omen of things to come.

Or maybe it’s the axe swinging directly toward Spooker’s head.

[anotherdayinchuckletown]

They’re Funny That Way

Chapter 3

A/N: Hello, lovelies, I’m rolling out this chapter about a month after I had originally planned to! Wonderful!  Honestly, though, I’m really happy with how this one eventually turned out, and I hope you all enjoy it.  We’re gonna be getting to that good shit soon, y’all, I promise.  What can I say, I love me a good slow burn.

(cross-posted to my AO3 @ marie_deneuve)

Summary: Emma finds herself locked out of her apartment, leading to an unexpected meeting with her next-door neighbor.

Arthur's mission to conveniently bump into Emma again is proving incredibly difficult.

It's hard enough simply pinning down her schedule, with how sporadically she must leave the apartment. However, luck is on Arthur's side today, and he spots her in the hallway as he is leaving to run some errands that morning. His heart stutters as he recognizes her figure just before she reaches the stairs and descends out of view.

Heaven help him, she's even more beautiful than he remembered. He hasn't seen her since that time in the elevator - well, not in person, at least.

She has visited him every night in his fantasies - watching Murray with him while resting her head on his shoulder. Comforting him when harsh nightmares jolt him awake. Telling him that she's proud of him in that soft, melodious voice. That voice that's been echoing in his head and taunting him, driving him mad because he can't recreate her tone exactly, can't match her precise cadence on his own.

Last time they met, she had shaken his hand without a second thought. Arthur had been wearing gloves at the time as part of his work attire, and he'd been kicking himself for it ever since. She reached out and touched him, and he didn't even get the benefit of feeling her hand against his! Pressing that glove to his face as he slept that night had been mildly comforting, but it was no substitute for the real thing.

It's his one day off this week; he definitely has time for a little detour. Maybe if he runs into her somewhere along her way, makes it seem natural, she'll touch him again? He imagines how soft she must feel, how warm. He wants to pull her into his arms, tangle his fingers in her blonde waves, bury his face in the curve of her neck.

Those are the thoughts propelling him forward as he accompanies her through the streets of Gotham that morning, hood of his tan windbreaker up and obscuring his face. "Accompanies" may not be the correct word if one person is unaware of the other's presence, but Arthur isn't too caught up in semantics at the moment. No, he's much more preoccupied with following that streak of golden hair weaving through the foot traffic at a frustratingly quick pace. It's a good thing Emma doesn't share Arthur's talent for disappearing into crowds, he thinks to himself.

If anything, it's the opposite. Gotham City has a perpetual storm cloud hanging over it. Or perhaps it would be more apt to say that Gotham City is the storm cloud. Everything is a different shade of gray, the streets, the smog in the sky, even the people. She is the only splash of color for miles - all reds and blacks and spun gold, shining despite it being overcast.

He maintains several yards between them, knowing that if he gets caught prematurely, he risks scaring her off for good. The last thing he would ever want is for Emma to feel unsafe around him, and there is really no explaining this one away. Hi, I know this looks bad, but I'm that clown you were really nice to on the elevator a few days ago. Anyway, it's been a few days, and I just had to see you again because I can't stop thinking about you, even though we barely know each other. Have coffee with me?

Yeah, real smooth.

His insecurity is gaining on him, when suddenly, Emma slows in front of a store window - Cypi's Bakery, to be exact. Arthur swiftly ducks into the nearest alleyway, poking his head out to see what it is that captured her attention.

Her gaze is fixed on a chocolate croissant on one of the display shelves. She steps right up to the glass, transfixed.

It's the perfect opportunity to approach her. She's so close, it's nearly impossible not to make himself known and reach out to her. It's like the universe is dangling her right in front of his nose, teasing him. Look! She's right here! Come and get her!

What would he say, though? Scratch that, what would a normal person say? Try as he might, he can't quite find the words.

Seconds tick by, and Emma finally checks her watch, rolls her eyes, and with one last forlorn glance at the pastry, continues down the sidewalk. Several feet behind her, Arthur is rolling his eyes as well - he dawdled too long and missed his chance.

She has already rounded a corner by the time Arthur trudges out from his hiding spot, defeated. He tugs his hood down and attempts to straighten his ruffled hair with a sigh, Gothamites shouldering past him without so much as a glance.

Oh, well. Like he could have held the conversation without royally fucking it up anyway.

Perhaps this isn't a total loss - he can still buy her a gift. He knows what she wants now, after all. It will stretch his budget a little - unless he can ration out his cigarettes until the end of the week - but if it will make her smile, it will all be worth it.

He decides he'll wait a little while after she returns home, and then leave the box on her doorstep. With an anonymous note letting her know it's for her, of course.

Can't have that noisy brother of hers stealing her gifts.

______________________________________

One week.

One week, and Emma has already reached the end of her fucking rope with this building.

If it isn't the deathtrap elevator, it's the water heater. If it isn't the water heater, it's the absent staff. If it isn't the absent staff, it's the rusted spare key she's been given breaking completely off in her deadbolt, leaving her stranded in the hallway with five bags' worth of clothing and hygiene products.

Today, it's the spare key thing.

For a while, all Emma can do is stare in disbelief at the piece remaining in her hand, the way one might stare at someone running naked between the floats at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. She knows there's no one downstairs at the moment to let her in, or even to get the old key out of the lock. Eddie has the afternoon shift, so he's definitely at work right now. She could just wait at Sophie's for him to return, but she won't even be off for another hour.

It's a perfect cocktail, she thinks. And then she hates herself even more for making an alcohol metaphor when she just took that damn bartending job she doesn't really want earlier today.

She's meant to start working at The Harlequin this weekend, which means two more nights attempting to sleep on that awful air mattress before then. Her new one is set to be delivered sometime after that, and she had to pawn her wedding ring just to afford it. Despite the foul memories behind it, that ring was the only nice thing she had left. Now, she truly has nothing. She can't even get into her own home.

So what does she do? She thinks of the only honorable thing a lady can do in this situation, which would be to march back downstairs, go out to the payphone on the street corner, and call Eddie for help.

And then she does the opposite of that.

With a defeated groan, she throws down her bags and slides down the wall until she's seated on the floor. And keeps sliding until she's lying fully on her back, her bags strewn around her, pathetic puddle of bad luck that she is.

A part of her is ashamed of this private tantrum, and another part of her couldn't give less of a fuck anymore. Hasn't she earned the right to a couple meltdowns?

Emma is broken out of her reverie when the door to the adjacent apartment swings open. The person must not look down in time to notice the mess of a woman lying right outside the door, nor the shopping bags scattered like land mines.

It all happens so fast after that.

The person trips over one of the bags, and Emma has no time to brace herself before their entire body weight slams down onto her at full force.

She lets out a pained whine as the person's bony elbow meets her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Her head instinctively jerks back, colliding clumsily into the wall behind her, and she briefly sees stars.

Clearly not expecting to effectively elbow drop some woman like a WWF wrestler, the person scrambles wildly on top of her, not helping her discomfort in the least. They flail backwards until they're sitting up on the floor next to her, and Emma finally gets a good look at them as she gasps inelegantly in an attempt to refill her lungs.

It's a man, older than she is, possibly in his early forties. The wrinkles adorning his gaunt face tell a story of utmost exhaustion, and he's dangerously thin, like he hasn't had a proper meal in ages. Brown curls float a touch above his angular shoulders, and his sunken green eyes...look quite familiar. The sudden hypoxia could just be playing tricks on her, though.

Those same eyes finally seem to focus in on her, and he looks at her like he recognizes her as well. She watches his expression quickly shift from confused shock to abject horror.

As Emma finally gets her diaphragm under control, she does her best to sit up, her abs screaming in protest. That'll be a nasty bruise. "Ugh," she groans out. "Holy shit, I'm so sorry! Are you all right, sir?"

The man pauses, thick brows furrowing. "I...I landed on you, and you're apologizing to me?" he asks, perplexed, as if the person who tripped him being repentant about it is the wildest thing he's heard all week. Here in Gotham City, it probably is.

His voice is soft, and upon hearing it, Emma shaves ten years off of her previous estimate of his age. He stares at her guiltily, as if he's just waiting to be reprimanded, despite the whole ordeal not being his fault.

Damn, where has she seen him before?

"What do you mean? Of course I am, I was in your way." Emma goes to gather up her things, still seated against the door to her apartment. "Let me just move these..."

"N-no, it's...it's okay!" the man stutters out. He rushes to stand, and even helps her to move the rest of her things up against the wall.

There's a long and awkward pause before he continues. "If you don't mind, um..." His eyes dart between her and his shoes. "What were you doing out here like that?"

"Oh! Ha, good question." Emma shows him the key - or rather, what's left of it. "It would appear that I'm locked out. It was either do this or throw myself off the roof, and I'm too tired to climb any more stairs today."

Emma briefly wonders whether she should be joking that way in front of a stranger. To her relief, he doesn't seem the least bit unsettled by her dark humor. He simply grins at her bashfully. His eyes briefly light up in turn, the spark so dim and fleeting that, had she blinked, she would have missed it altogether.

And that's when it hits her.

"I've got it!" she exclaims, clapping once. "I know where I've seen you before!"

"Y-you do?" The man appears startled.

"Yeah! It was bugging me, but I remember now." She points one red-painted fingernail at him. "You're that clown! The one I saw in the elevator on my first day here!"

He actually looks relieved at that for some reason, and he visibly relaxes. "Oh, right! I, um...forgot about that." He scratches at the back of his head. "I'm surprised you recognized me - or Carnival, actually. That's my clown name at work."

The irony makes Emma giggle. This skinny, timid man in a knit sweater and loafers puts on greasepaint and dances around at parties for a living... Somehow, she can't picture it, and she's even seen him in full costume. Right now he looks like a sad accountant. Or like Mister Rogers.

Sick of craning her head up to talk to him, she stands as well, brushing some dust off the sleeves of her black cardigan. "I can't say I've ever met a clown off the clock before," she says. "Your life must be a lot more interesting than mine."

His answer comes out slightly pained. "I really doubt that... What do you do?"

"I just became a bartender over at The Harlequin." Emma rolls her eyes and shrugs, smiling wryly. "It's a job. Hopefully a stepping stone, so I can get out of here before long." She gestures to her door. "Pretty sad that I can't even manage to get in today."

The man chuckles at her dry excuse for a joke - shyly, as if he's afraid of it being heard. Emma can't tell if she's being genuinely charming or if this guy just pities her. She hasn't been paying too much attention to his body language, so far down the shitter is her initiative to do so. She just wants to curl up in bed.

Being back in Gotham has been all right so far - preferable to the alternative, at least - but she can't seem to shake the cloud of dread that manifests each time she's not immediately busy with something. She figures it's stress-related. After all, there's so much to do in the coming months, just in regards to dealing with judges and lawyers. These things take ages, even if both parties are cooperative. She's not lucky enough to have the sort of divorce all little girls dream of...

She must have started to zone out because she's suddenly brought back by the man exclaiming, "I-I have pliers!"

Emma peers at him, quirking an eyebrow.

"For your door!" he elaborates. "I can't get you into your apartment, but I can at least get your key back!" Quieter, not meeting her gaze, he adds, "And then, you know, if you need to call someone...you're welcome to come in and use my phone."

Emma blinks, momentarily taken aback by this Good Samaritan. "Uh...yeah, that would be great! Thank you!" She reaches down and starts to collect her bags. "Good thing I bumped into one of the only nice people in the city."

While she's retrieving the last of her things, something at her feet catches her eye. There's a sealed envelope on the floor near where she was sitting earlier. Curious, she picks it up, and then balks at the name of the recipient.

"Woah!" She holds the envelope out incredulously. "This letter is addressed to Thomas Wayne! ...Did you drop this?"

Based on what Emma has seen of recent headlines, Thomas Wayne is a frontrunner in Gotham's upcoming mayoral election. As if Gotham doesn't have enough problems - the last thing the city needs is a pigheaded authoritarian billionaire running things. This guy who's been so kind as to help her couldn't possibly be a fan, right?

The man appears mildly annoyed, although not at her. Taking it from her outstretched hand, he says, "Yeah, I did. It's not mine, though - my...m-mother asked me to mail it." He rushes through that last part in a low voice, and Emma realizes he's embarrassed.

If he does still live with his mother, it's only natural that a man his age would feel insecure about it. She's always found the stigma silly, personally. What is Western culture's obsession with "leaving the nest" as soon as humanly possible, even to the child's detriment? Why, if Emma's parents were still around...

Never mind that.

She has no time to reassure her companion before he changes the subject. "I'll handle it later. I should help you first." With his free hand, he pulls out his key and goes to unlock the door to his apartment.

"Hang on a second!" Emma smacks her own forehead, and he freezes. "God, I'm so rude. What's wrong with me?" She shakes her head. "You're being extremely helpful, and I haven't even asked your name! Your real name, that is - I'd imagine it's not always Carnival, right?"

"Heh, right... My name's Arthur."

"Arthur," she repeats, not half minding the way it sounds in her own voice. "It's nice to officially meet you, Arthur."

Predictably, he looks flustered as he replies, "Yeah... Nice to see you again, Emma."

He unlocks the door, holding it open for her, and the smell of cigarette smoke mixed with high-end perfume wafts out. It's not her favorite scent in the world, but it's familiar - comforting, even.

Inside, gaudy pink plaid lines the walls, a sharp contrast to Eddie's taupe covered with band posters. The living room, or at least what she can see of it, is neat and tidy, despite the abundance of knick-knacks covering each surface.

Although, not a single family photo in sight, Emma notes. Some people simply don't have them lying around. She and Eddie are much the same way.

Lingering self-consciously in the foyer, she spots an older woman reclining in an armchair across the room. Arthur's mother, she presumes. Hearing the door, the woman turns and regards her, then Arthur, confusion plain on her features.

"Happy? I didn't know you were having company." Mild surprise colors her voice, affirming Emma's theory that Arthur doesn't get visitors often.

"It's just one of the neighbors, Ma! She's locked out!" he calls back. Squeezing past Emma, he slips into the kitchen and discards the Thomas Wayne letter on the counter. Rummaging through one of the drawers, he produces a pair of pliers rustier than the key that had gotten her into this mess.

"I'll be right back," he tells her. "The phone is in the hallway behind you, if you need to use it." And with that, he rushes back outside before she can even thank him.

Feeling Arthur's mother's eyes burning holes in the back of her head, she does step into the hallway, partly to call Eddie and partly to get out of her line of sight. Emma struggles to remember the number for his store, but breathes a sigh of relief when someone picks up on the third ring.

"G-String's, this is Ron."

Christ, she always forgets that's the name he decided on. "Ron, it's Emma. Is my brother there?"

Before he can answer, she faintly hears Eddie's voice in the background saying that, yes, he is still out of Pink Floyd's The Wall. "Yeah, he's right here, what's up?"

"Good. Listen, tell him I got locked out of the apartment, and I'm heading down to borrow his key." She dreads the walk. It's not far, but her arms are already sore from the shopping bags weighing them down.

Momentarily ignoring Emma, Ron starts talking away from the receiver. "Dude, it's your sister, she's locked outta the house... Okay, I'll tell her. Hey, Emma, he's on his way."

"What? I just said I'd-"

"Too late, he's grabbing his shit."

Emma groans. "Fine. Tell him I'm waiting for him in 8J."

"Will do." A pause. "So, uh... I hear you're single again-"

She hangs up.

She barely wanders back into the foyer when Arthur's mother surprises her by saying, "It's no use standing around over there. Sit down and make yourself comfortable, dear." She gestures vaguely to the sofa next to her.

Emma complies, stepping gingerly into the living room. She sits at the end of the couch, as far away as humanly possible, and sets her bags down underneath the coffee table, her arms crying out in relief.

"My brother should be here any minute," she begins sheepishly. "I'm so sorry to intrude like this, Miss..." She trails off.

"Penny," the woman supplies. "It's no trouble."

A stodgy local political forum is playing on the television. This is a particularly conservative broadcast by the sound of it, anchors harping primarily on Gotham's floundering economy and the ramifications of a potential garbage strike.

Penny is watching raptly, and Emma uses the opportunity to peer over at her. She certainly is done up to be sitting around at home. Sure, she's in button-up flannel pajamas, but she's also wearing a full face of makeup, and her graying hair, fading from strawberry-blonde, is curled. Underneath it all, the wrinkles on her face betray a beautiful visage. Emma feels oddly intimidated all of a sudden, trying to make a good impression on this woman who gives an air of having once been one of the most stunning girls in Gotham.

As if sensing her unease, Arthur returns. He hastily crosses the room and presents Emma with the other half of her key. "I'm sorry it took me so long... It was really in there."

She smiles gratefully up at him. "Oh, don't apologize. You totally saved my hide out there."

Still not quite on board with the whole eye contact deal, he busies himself by straightening up the coffee table. Lifting an empty mug, he looks up at Penny. "Oh, you finished your tea already. Want me to make more?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course!" He starts for the kitchen. "Emma, do you drink chamomile?"

She does, but politely declines, already feeling like she's taking advantage of his kindness. He only looks a little dejected by her refusal.

As Arthur bustles around the kitchen, silence descends upon the living room, save for the droning of the television. The subject has changed; the anchors have moved on from essentially blaming the working class for not making enough money to worshiping the ground their candidate Thomas Wayne walks upon. How original.

Penny practically lunges to raise the volume, startling Emma. "Did you mail my letter, Happy?" she interjects without looking away from the screen.

"I didn't make it downstairs yet." He assures her, "I'll do it before the mailman gets here."

"Don't forget. It's very important," Penny insists somewhat curtly.

"That Thomas Wayne is polling pretty high these days, isn't he?" Emma muses, attempting to make small talk.

Penny instantly perks up. "Yes, that's what everybody on the news is saying. It's a good thing he's running this year. He's exactly what this city needs, don't you think?"

Hardly, but Emma elects to keep her opinion to herself. Instead, she blurts out, "I met him a few years ago."

Penny looks positively awestruck. "You did, really? Oh, he's a wonderful man, isn't he?"

She did technically meet him, although she never spoke to him personally. It was at a benefit that Daniel had dragged her along to, so that he could network (code for smooth talk billionaires). They had conversed for a grand total of thirty seconds, shaken hands, and that was the end of that. He had come off every bit as arrogant and self-important as she would expect of the CEO of a multi-billion dollar industrial corporation. He and Daniel were two peas in a pod.

"...My husband seemed to like him."

The clattering in the kitchen stops cold.

The sudden absence of sound causes her to remember herself. "I mean, my ex - my ex-husband. Excuse me, I'm newly separated. Still getting used to it."

"So sorry to hear that," Penny tells her, not sounding in the least bit sympathetic. Not that Emma needs, or even wants, sympathy.

She instead returns to the previous subject, with Emma half-listening. Apparently, Penny worked for the Wayne family years ago, and is now chock-full of anecdotes from within Wayne Manor.

Emma smiles and nods along. Penny clearly sees her idol though rose-colored glasses, but there's no use telling her that. She must be delighted simply to have someone new to talk to, and Emma would hate to spoil it for her.

Arthur emerges with a steaming mug of chamomile tea and a facial expression that lets Emma know he's far sicker of these stories than she is. Nevertheless, he hands his mother the mug, giving her shoulder an affectionate pat.

The scene has her beaming up at the back of Arthur's head as something stirs deep within her. Something like the first sip of hot chocolate on a snowy morning, coursing through her veins and warming her from the inside out.

Before he can sit down, there's a loud knocking accompanied by a shout of "Hey, Em, you in there?"

"Ah, that's my cue." Emma gathers her things as Arthur hurries to answer the door. She says her goodbyes to Penny, but she's once again engrossed in her program and only offers a halfhearted "goodbye, dear" in return.

Eddie waits in the entryway, arms crossed, his voice booming in the otherwise quiet apartment. "Thanks for the excuse to break early today, ya lucky ladybug. You wouldn't believe some of the idiots coming into the store, you know what I'm saying?" He reaches down to ruffle her hair when she gets within range.

"Glad my misfortune was useful." She notices how Eddie completely towers over Arthur, whose hands fidget anxiously as he hangs back, unsure of what to do with himself. It's honestly sort of endearing how tiny he is, how she could probably lift him up if given the chance.

"I owe you one, Arthur. Knock if you ever need anything, okay?" Emma extends a hand, similar to their first meeting.

This time, Arthur immediately clasps her hand in his, with a grip that is equal parts firm and sweaty. "Okay, and the same goes for you." Eddie good-naturedly claps him once on the back, clearly taking him off-guard, and he drops her hand.

She's poised to head out when Arthur stops her, saying, "Oh, one more thing!"

He zips out of sight for just a moment before reappearing with a small, white box. "This is for you."

After all that, he's even giving her a gift? She starts to dissuade him, but he holds the box out toward her, close enough that social etiquette dictates she take it. And so she does, brows drawing together. "You're too nice, Arthur, thank you."

"Take care, man," Eddie says, finally ushering a confused Emma out the door.

When the door clicks shut behind them, he immediately fixes her with a long and pointed stare. For a second, Emma thinks he's pissed for having to walk all the way back home, but then he breaks the silence.

"So...you and the neighbor, huh?"

Emma tilts her head. "Me and the neighbor?"

"Lemme see this." He grabs the box out of her hands, ignoring her protests. A glance inside, and he shuts it again, raising his eyebrows at her in a nonverbal "I told you so" before handing it back and unlocking their door with a flourish.

"What? What is that face? What's in there?"

"A Cypi's croissant, Em? Oh, he's got it bad for you."

She snatches it back, indignant. "Ugh, you're delusional. I've met him once before; he probably just felt sorry for me."  Although, she had really been craving one of those since she passed by the store on her walk this morning. What a happy coincidence.

"Don't be so naive. You have any idea how many girlfriends I've hit that place up for on Valentine's Day? You don't bust out the Cypi's unless you're seriously looking to drop some panties."

"Gross. Thanks for coming to get me, but never talk to me about panties."

It's strange to think that the seemingly mild-mannered, reticent man who gifted her a croissant has such a blood-curdling laugh. It would have been incredibly rude to bring it up today, when he had so kindly gone out of his way for her. Surely, there's a courteous method to broaching the subject? It would be unfortunate to hurt his feelings and topple the precarious acquaintanceship they were building.

She is pleasantly surprised that night when the walls are resoundingly, blissfully silent.

[razieltwelve]

Drink (Final Rose AU)

Note: This is set in the Tifa/Lightning/Fang/Summer AU. As such, Ruby and Averia are sisters in this AU.

X     X     X

Averia took one look at Ruby and rounded on the rest of Team RWBY. “At what point did you think it would be a good idea to include my fifteen-year-old sister in your underage drinking?” There was a cold, emotionless edge to the words that made them far more terrifying than if they’d been spoken with rage. 

“Uh…” Yang knew what Averia’s tone of voice meant. Saviour’s emotional dampener had engaged. The pink-haired girl wasn’t mad. She was furious. And a furious Averia generally meant that whatever had pissed her off was about to become very dead. “Well…”

Still staggering about drunkenly on the ceiling, Ruby laughed. “Don’t be like that, big sis. It was fun! We had tequila, whiskey, and vodka, and all this other stuff too.” She cackled and leered blearily at Yang. “We even played cards.” She lurched sharply to one side and then fell off the ceiling, her control over her Semblance slipping. Without taking her eyes off Yang and the others, Averia reached out and caught her. “Thanks, sis.” Ruby reached up and grabbed at Averia’s cheeks. “You should smile more. You have a really nice smile.” The total lack of a smile on Averia’s face might have been funny to Ruby, but it was terrifying to everyone else. “I was kind of hoping we’d play strip poker too but…”

“Ruby,” Yang muttered. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“No, you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourselves.” Averia did her best to ignore Ruby as her little sister tried to comb her hair up into the signature spikes that Diana always sported. “Since we’ve known each other since we were children, I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself before i murder you.”

“Uh…” Yang was usually good with words. However, staring into Averia’s pitiless green eyes, words were suddenly very difficult. “Guys,” she whispered. “Help me out.” She chanced a quick look back to find that Weiss and Blake were both doing their best to use her as a human shield. “Seriously?” She looked back at Averia. “Fine. Here’s what happened.”

X     X     X

“How did you get that?” Weiss asked.

Blake smirked and held up the bottle. “This? Well, you know how I graduated as a member of the National Guard before attending Beacon? Some of my former colleagues thought they’d send me this after hearing about our first successful mission as a team.”

“Our first mission?” Weiss raised one eyebrow. They’d been at Beacon for half a year. “Our first mission was months ago.”

“Our first real mission. Apparently, the one we just completed was tough enough for them to take it seriously.” Blake smiled wistfully, and Weiss once again found herself wondering about the Faunus’s past. Some initial awkwardness aside, Blake had more than proven herself as a comrade, and anyone who could graduate into Menagerie’s National Guard at the age of seventeen or earlier was extremely formidable. “I do hope they realise I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

Weiss shook her head. “Blake, that is a bottle of the finest Atlas whiskey. Being old enough to drink doesn’t matter. We’re having some.” 

“Really? You don’t normally advocate breaking the rules.”

“Blake, I may or may not have indulged in some prior to arriving at Beacon while celebrating my acceptance with my sister and some of my other friends.”

“Ah.” Blake grinned. “If we’re going to be having some, we might as well get Yang involved too. She’ll be mad if we drink it without her.”

“Uh… guys?” Ruby peeked down at them from her position atop the bunk bed. “Could I… maybe… have some too?”

“Hmm…” Blake made a face. “Ruby, you’re fifteen. You probably shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Did someone mention drinking?” Yang ambled back in from the bathroom. She’d just finished having a shower, and Ruby wasn’t the only one who stared at the way the towel clung to her body. “Because after that mission we need to celebrate, and I doubt we’ll be able to sneak out. It’s Professor Dia’s turn to patrol for curfew, and nobody gets past her.”

“Some of my buddies from the National Guard sent some whiskey. Want some?”

“Is that…” Yang’s stared at the bottle. “It is! Damn straight I want some! That stuff is pricey.”

“Guys!” Ruby growled. “Can I please have some too. I’m part of this team, and if you’re going to be drinking, then I should too.”

“Ruby…” Yang took a deep breath. “As a mature young woman of seventeen, I’m going to have to say that fifteen is too young to be drinking. Besides, do you have any idea what your big sis would do to us if you got drunk?”

“I’m not a kid,” Ruby countered. “Come on! Let me have some!”

“Fine.” Blake said at last. “But only a sip.”

Yang smirked. “And since we’re celebrating, we might as well do it properly.” She pressed her foot down on a section of the floor and tapped a pattern on it. The floor opened up to allow a small fridge to rise up. “You’re not the only one with booze.”

Weiss gaped. “Yang, did you seriously have Diana install a fridge under our floor, so you could hide booze?”

“And if I did?” Yang put her hands on her hips. “That a problem?”

“The problem,” Weiss countered. “Is that you didn’t tell the rest of us.” The heiress smirked. “What have you got?”

“Oh, princess, I’ve got a bit of everything.”

“Technically,” Ruby pointed out. “Blake is the princess.” She hopped out of the bunk bed and peered into the fridge. “Wow… that is a lot of booze.” She frowned. “Did you tell Diana you’d be putting booze in it?”

“Of course. She even helped me smuggle the booze onto campus.” Yang rubbed her chin. “Now, let’s get started ladies.”

In short order, they were gathered in a circle, sitting down on the floor. 

“To the success of our first real mission!” Yang said. “And by real, I mean a mission in which we each almost died at least twice.”

X     X     X

Aveeria’s eye twitched. “I’m going to assume it got out of hand from there.”

“Oh yeah.” Yang twitched. “It turns out that when Ruby wants to move super fast and grab extra booze, there’s really no easy way of stopping her without resorting to actual combat.”

Averia’s eyes narrowed, and she lifted Ruby up to eye level. The younger girl was again trying to adjust her lips into a smile. “Ruby, did you get mad because they weren’t giving you more than a sip and then just steal a whole lot of booze to prove you really can handle alcohol only to prove that you really can’t?”

“That…” Weiss murmured. “Is an eerily accurate summary of what happened.”

Averia frowned faintly. “Ruby is my sister. Developing an accurate model of her behaviour with Saviour was one of the first things I did with my Semblance. For all intents and purposes, I can predict what Ruby will do in any situation.”

“Uh… maybe,” Ruby said at last. “But they were having so much fun drinking, and I wanted to have fun too.” She huffed pettily. “You wouldn’t be mad if Diana was drinking.”

“I would still be mad, and it’s not like Diana can get drunk.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not, but that’s not the point.” Averia turned back to Yang as Ruby squirmed out of her grasp and climbed onto her back. “Since you did try to stop her, and I personally know how difficult she can be to stop when she wants something, you get to live. However, there are not going to be any repeats of this.” The words would have sounded more ominous if it wasn’t for Ruby clinging onto her back like an oversized, silver-eyed monkey. “Ruby, you are not going to steal booze again.”

“Or what?” Ruby asked petulantly. She rested her head on Averia’s shoulder and yawned. “I’m your sister. You can’t mangle me.”

“No, I can’t mangle you. However, I can and will share embarrassing baby pictures with your teammates if I hear about you turning what should be a sip of whiskey into a drinking binge.”

“Oh.” The thought of that sent a shudder through Ruby. Or not. “I… I think I’m going to be sick -”

“That is what happens when you drink too much.” Averia looked at Yang and the others. “What?”

“Um… Ruby just threw up, but there isn’t any…”

“I use Saviour to shunt it into an alternate dimension before it could hit me.” Averia shrugged. “That’s usually how I deal with sufficiently powerful energy-based attacks, but it works equally well on vomit.”

“Right.” Weiss shook her head at the thought of using such a powerful Semblance for something so… bizarre. “Well, since you’ve decided to let us all live, I supposed we should give Ruby some fluids and let her sleep it off.”

On Averia’s back, Ruby slumped and began to snore. However, her grip only tightened.

“I was afraid this would happen.” Averia sighed. “It’ll be almost impossible to pry her off.”

“So… what?” Blake asked. “You’re just going to walk around with Ruby clinging onto your back?”

“Yes.” Averia shrugged. “Based on past experience, her grip should loosen in half an hour or so, and I’ll bring her back here when that happens. In the meantime, I was going to head back to my team’s dorm room to complete an assignment.”

“With Ruby clinging onto your back?” Yang asked.

“Yes.”

“Right. Have fun with that.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Ah, Ruby, she really doesn’t like people treating her like a kid (unless it mean free cookies). Yang tried to do the semi-right thing and failed, and Averia is just being Averia. Ruby is going to be some embarrassed when she wakes up tomorrow.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here.

[docholligay]

False Reality

This is a really old fic, that Rachelle commissioned. It’s silly and goofy and fun, and I think everyone would love that right now! 2,500 words. 

Want to support my releases? Thank you! Patreon –  Ko-fi

Michiru sighed heavily and folded the map. “Rei, I don’t believe you have the slightest idea where you are going.”

Rei knit her eyebrows in annoyance. That Michiru was entirely right was beside the point--Rei did not appreciate the show of bad faith.

“How is there no cell service?” Rei looked at her phone, as if staring at it one last time would somehow magically make a cell tower appear.

This hadn’t been Rei’s idea, she would remind Michiru, once they’d had a chance to settle in at the hotel. Michiru’s family was the one with the membership to the ski resort, a place Rei had never even heard of, which made sense, seeing as it was on another continent and the memberships were invitation only, and tens of thousands of dollars a year besides. And Michiru was the one who had said they could simply drive, when the private airports nearby had been full.

Yes, this was certainly Michiru’s fault, and not Rei’s, no matter how many turns she had taken down side dirt roads into nowhere.

“I imagine there is no service due to a lack of cell towers.” Michiru looked out the window at the snowy plain, falling away into the distance as the car climbed. “Haruka will be worried.”

“Oh, who cares about Haruka, we’re going to freeze to death.” Rei kept driving, stubbornly, as if driving deeper into the dark would make something appear.

“A more peaceful end than I ever believed might have been possible for us.” Michiru looked at her watch.

And then, the miracle appeared. Rei rounded yet another corner, and there was a light. It was small, a yellow haze against the darkness, at the corner where a road led off the main path. The road was barely illuminated, but one barely squinted,

“See?” Rei gestured proudly, as if she had called it into being. “We’ll ask these people. It’s late, they'll probably let us stay the night.”

Michiru looked at the humming light, unimpressed. “Rei, you’ve just promised me I was going to freeze to death, if you swap it out for an axe murder I shan’t be pleased.”

“I don’t know why I try to talk to you when you’re always so morbid.” Rei rolled her eyes and jerked the steering wheel to the side, venturing down the dark road.

___

It was the sort of place that Michiru generally avoided, for a constellation of reasons particular to herself, but namely her aversion to being murdered in a common way. Rei ignored these protestations, however, and so she chose to simply stop offering them, as Rei trudged up the snowy stairs to the door.

She rapped hard, the response of the wood echoing into the cold night sky, and Michiru could not help but have her attention drawn upwards, following the curl of her breath on the air, staring into the jewelry-store case above her, fates twinkling with each facet of an individual life.

The door swung open, and there was a small redhead in a delicate pink dress, a glass of whiskey in her hand. A TV show boomed from the living room, pressing out into the night.

She looked in her glass, and then back at Michiru and Rei, and then back into her glass, and then back up at the girls once more.

A deep, loud woman’s voice came from the living room. “What the hell, Holligay?”

“I need to stop drinking.” The redhead turned called back into the living room. “Did you dose me with something?”

Michiru stepped forward and extended a hand. “My name is Michiru--”

“Kaioh.” She finished Michiru’s sentence. “I know.”

Michiru and Rei exchanged glances--Michiru’s family was very well known, so it wasn’t as if these things never happened, but out here, in the middle of the wild, it seemed odd. Another redhead, clad in a t-shirt with a bright yellow chicken on it, walked into the entryway.

The four of them all stared at each other for a moment.

She broke the silence, her eyes whirling like the chicken on her chest. “What.”

“Oh good,” the smaller redhead put her hand on her hip and took a swig from her glass, “we’re both hallucinating.” She extended a hand. “Doc.”

Michiru shook her hand firmly. “We seem to find ourselves lost, and in need of a place to bed down for the night. It would appear you’re some sort of...inn, I suppose?”

“Yeah, it’s a tax dodge.” Doc tucked her hair behind her ear, “But we’ve got rooms.”

Rei grabbed Michiru by the shoulder and hissed into her ear. “Why is that one staring at me?”

The woman stood there, hands clasped together, whimpering softly, eyes wide with reverence and wonder.

“Oh don’t mind her,” Doc waved and took a quilt out of the closet. “That’s Jet.” Doc turned to face them and sighed. “So...upstairs we have rooms, I guess. For you to sleep in. Since you’re definitely not hallucinations.”

Jet suddenly found her capacity for speech, and it was in scolding Doc. “Holligay, don't be rude.” She picked up pillows. “You can totally stay here. Why don’t you have a seat at, uh, the table?”

Doc nodded. “Yeah, sure, good as any place.” She ran up the stairs in her normal fashion, without pause or consideration, blankets in hand.

Michiru regarded Jet carefully, and then, perhaps against her own better judgement, took a seat at the table, Rei following her, though she was careful always to keep her eyes at every entrance and exit.

“Sooooo,” Jet drummed her fingers against the table, “How did you...get here?”

“We drove.” Rei looked at her skeptically. “What else are we supposed to do?”

“I mean…”

Doc skipped back down the stairs and landed on the hardwood floor with a satisfying thump, still staring at the women at the opposite end of the table.

Michiru cocked her head, studying them. “Is it truly so incredibly odd that someone might lose their way in this part of the country? I can’t imagine we have been the first, nor that we shall be the last.”

Jet and Doc looked at each other uneasily, and Doc raised her eyebrows at Jet, shrugging at her aggressively. Jet looked back over at the two girls in front of her, so much more fully realized than she ever thought they could be.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Jet shifted in her chair, “But I think we’re… I mean you can't…”

Doc took another slug of whiskey, “You’re not real.”

“Holligay.” Jet looked over at her, scolding.

“What? They aren’t.”  

“Oh, well then, more fool me, sitting here on this realm of existence.” Michiru put a hand to her cheek, feigning boredom.

“Well, I mean, if you want to be that way about it.” Doc walked over to a lawyer’s bookcase and lifted the lid, pulling out a DVD and setting it between them. “Behold! You’re gonna need a drink.” She walked into the kitchen, leaving them sitting with a Jet, who had been, briefly, wondering how to bring this up with tact, forgetting that the word itself had little meaning with regards to Doc’s general demeanor. Tact, she con

Michiru studied the DVD case carefully, trying to make sense of the information in front of her. Rei simply grabbed the case out of her hands and scowled.

“I don’t look like that.” She snapped at the case.

Michiru took it back from her. “Rei Hino, Sailor Mars, you’re correct Rei, this couldn’t possibly be you.”

“WELL IT’S NOT!” Rei crossed her arms and slumped back in the chair grumpily.

Michiru sat back in her chair, eyes drifting thoughtfully about the room, never quite landing on anything “Let us say,” she rubbed her finger and thumb together, “That I believe you--”

“Michiru.” Rei looked over at her incredulously.

“I’m simply entertaining an idea, Rei. We are princesses of somehow the both the past and future, tasked with an impossible mission and elemental powers, the time for my mind to live only in the common and explicable is long past,” she looked over to Jet, “ Let us say that. What sort of,” she waved her hand thoughtfully, “enlightenment might you be able to offer?”

“I mean, you die, so.” Doc came back into the room and set the glass of wine in from of Michiru.

“We die??” Rei was enraged at the mere suggestion that she might do anything but win the day, effortlessly.

Jet tried to rush in with a reassurance about Doc leaving out the very important fact of Rei Hino’s resurrection, which was a very Holligay thing to do, and rude besides, but Michiru stepped in before she could begin.

“Why, of course we do,” Michiru took a sip of Doc’s wine, and then looked at the glass, judgment in her eyes, and set it down on the table firmly. “The folly is more yours for imagining that we are meant to do anything else, Rei.”

“Okay, but Usagi--”

“Anything worth having must be paid for in blood.” She said simply, folding her hands in her lap.

Doc’s eyes were wide and sparkling. “I love you.”

Rei crossed her arms and grumbled. “Well maybe YOU die.”

The awkwardness sat between them all as Rei continued to glare at the DVD case, as if she were trying to set it on fire with her mind and might succeed.

“Michiru, judge Holligay’s food next!” Jet practically leapt across the table with excitement. She noticed Doc scowling at her. “What? It’s cooking. You like cooking. I’m HELPING.”

“‘Helping’,” Doc said pointedly. “You're as useless as tits on a boar hog.”

“You’re welcome!” Jet gave her a grin and Doc sighed, pushing herself away from the table. “Fine enough, I spose.” Her mind raced as she tried to imagine what she could possibly have in the freezer and pantry that might fit the bill.

She was drawing up a quick pastry crust when Jet walked into the kitchen, and leaned against the counter. “So how do we--”

“We don’t. This may shock you,” She put a floured covered hand on her hip and looked over at Jet, “But I don’t precisely have any kinda life experience to draw on, for this. You know everything I know.” She looked back to her pastry crust. “For once.” She fluted in the edge and moved back to the stove, pouring milk into a roux.

“What’s that?” She looked into the pan over Doc’s shoulder.

“It’ll be chicken pot pie. Or,” she looked up, trying to draw something classy out of the air, “poulet en croute, avec les carottes et du brocoli.  Or something.” She cracked some pepper into the pot.

“Okay enough with the French!”

“This is the first time I’ve used it.”

“Too many times, Holligay.”

“Will you go be entertaining!” She scolded Jet. “To our...weird hallucinatory guests.”

Jet walked out of the kitchen, huffing, and grabbed a bottle of rum as she went. She poured a tipple into a glass of coke, and looked up at Rei.

“Sooooo, why don’t you tell me about your friends?” She sat down across and offered the bottle of Bacardi silver.

Michiru raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Rei, on the other hand, leaned forward explosively. “Why do you want to know? Are you a member of the Dark Kingdom? Well, I won’t tell you anything, Usagi may be a big crybaby but I--WE, HAVE TO PROTECT HER.”

“Stealth at its most satisfying.” Michiru glanced over at the offending wine once more.

“Yes tell me all about Usagi and how you have to protect Usagi I want to know everything do not leave ANYTHING out.” She folded her hands underneath her chin and grinned.

Rei opened her mouth, and Doc called from the kitchen. “In a technical sense, we already know, so!”

There is a certain quality of awkwardness that takes over a room when it is a assured that ne party has the upper hand. In normal times, one would assume it was the reincarnated beings of incredible power, but in this particular case, it seemed to be two women with a DVD.

Over a meal Michiru kindly described as ‘rustic,’ a difficult situation began to unfold in the two’s minds. When you dream of someone being real, you never consider the fullness of them, and you especially never imagine that what they actually think might be different from what you imagined. Jet found herself wanting to correct Rei in things she said and ways she moved, because that couldn’t possibly be right.

She looked over at Doc, who seemed to be having the same thought, that people are never as you imagine them to be, and the longer you had considered it, it seemed, the more you had created them entirely in your own mind, in all the small ways that it is to be human.

To consider them, and to consider how they thought of the other people in their lives: Doc and Michiru discussing the nature of their romantic relationships, Jet and Rei discussing the exact nature of the Inner Senshi’s friendship, and how it worked, or didn’t at times.

As is often the case, they came away with a mix of happiness and disappointment.

“I suppose, then, we ought to be off to bed.” Michiru glanced toward the stairs. “It is late, after all, and I believe we have all had an odd enough evening to last us for some time.”

Rei grabbed the DVD case one more time, as if she could will it to be something, but tossed it back onto the table.

Doc and Jet just looked at each other, saying nothing. What could be said?

___

When she rose, the sun had been up for several hours, even in the dead of winter, and she thumped her way down the stairs, to where Doc sat on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee, reading a book as if nothing had ever happened unusually in her entire life.

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

Jet paid her no mind, shuffling off toward the kitchen where a kettle of hot water waited, that Doc would claim later was almost certainly for something else, and not for Jet’s tea. She poured the water into her cup and stirred thoughtfully, adding entirely too much sugar. It was, on the whole, unlikely that BOTH she and Doc were hallucinating, particularly since it wasn’t the time of year for her to forage unknown items out of the forest, with a simple ‘eat it’ as identification.

She walked back into the living room and stood in front of Doc. “So last night, then?”

“Is a pact we take to the grave.” She looked over at Jet, setting down her book.“Unless you want to explain to Mike how two people from a 90s anime showed up here, stayed the night, and no Mike, I don’t need it to be seen, really, it happened.”

“I took a picture!” She dug her phone out of her jeans, and it shifted just slightly, jumping out of her hands and into Doc’s coffee, fizzling as if in celebration of a final fuck-you to Jet.

“WELP.”

“Yeah no, this is between us, then.”  

[buttsonthebeach]

A Secret Shared

@im-calling-the-lord did me the honor of letting me write Abby and Solas again! Thanks friend!

I previously wrote about them in A Gilded Cage and @im-calling-the-lord wrote about them in Eternity.

Pairing: Abby Grace x Solas (non-Lavellan, non-Inquisitor OC x Solas)

Rating: Teen for references to childbirth and canon-typical violence

**************************************************

Abby had been a secret-keeper all her life.

There was the big secret, of course - mysterious origins, inexplicable powers - but it was all the little ones that made her really good at it. All the little mischiefs and adventures of childhood, like staying out too late or wandering too far or tempting fate with a magical experiment or stealing a bite of the pie her mother had insisted needed to wait until after dinner. The world was wide and she wanted to live in every corner of it, even the corners she needed to stay away from, and so she had to become good at keeping secrets.

Solas was always her partner in those secrets. It was what formed their friendship - their shared thirst for knowledge and experience without limitation. And now, so many years beyond childhood, beyond their reunion in Ghilan’nain’s great and terrifying hall, that had a new layer to it. They were bonded in truth, wed to one another - but in secret. It was fitting, giving their friendship, given their lives.

Solas was also a partner in Abby’s latest secret.

He just didn’t know it yet.

Abby turned that thought over in her mind as she paced the halls of the refuge where she lived with Solas - though most people called him Fen’Harel these days, whether in admiration or fear or loathing. She, the so-called Herald of Fen’Harel, had a secret from the great man himself.

She was pregnant.

She’d figured it out for certain in the stillness of morning, in her private chambers (because she had to have her own chambers, of course, since it was a secret that she had a bondmate at all). Her monthly bleeding had been missing of course, but it had taken a visit with a spirit of healing to confirm the other changes in her body, and what they meant.

A child. A child for her and for Solas, the man who had always been her partner.

The man who was now leading a rebellion, more or less.

So the timing wasn’t impeccable, any more than it had been impeccable for them to reunite at Ghilan’nain’s party under the threat of death and political intrigue - so maybe it was just par for the course for them.

They hadn’t even thought it was possible for her to get pregnant by Solas, considering that she wasn’t an elf - but then again everything about her seemed impossible, and sometimes her luck in having Solas as a partner seemed impossible too - so maybe this was all to be expected in some strange way.

Once she was able to wrap her mind around it, Abby decided that she could keep this secret all to herself - just for now. She wouldn’t be able to keep it forever. But there was still so much danger around them, and so much to do. She would hold onto this impossible thing on her own.

That meant she had to keep going with her usual routines, even when she was bone tired and more than a little nauseated. So she walked around the fortress every day as she always did, checking for supplies and chatting with guards and making sure new refugees were situated with somewhere to sleep and food to eat, medical attention if they needed it. She’d already gained a reputation of her own as the Herald of Fen’Harel, and people often recognized her from sheer height alone. So in that sense it wasn’t terribly surprising when a young woman approached her one day on her rounds, a small bundle in her arms.

“Herald? Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” Abby said, even if the title still filled her with equal parts unease and amusement. Unease because she’d been a secret-keeper her whole life and she’d never set out to be anyone of importance and amusement because - well, if she didn’t keep laughing at the situations she and Solas ended up in, she was going to go stark raving mad. “How can I help?”

“My name is Nuala,” she said, shifting the small bundle - and that was when Abby heard the little mewling sound it made, and realized abruptly that the woman was holding a well-swaddled baby.

That’s going to be me in a few months.

The thought didn’t help her queasiness.

Focus, Abby. She’s still talking.

“ - and we are just so grateful for the chance to start over somewhere new - to have a real life - and - ”

Nuala held out her infant.

Abby hesitated a moment and then extended her arms to hold the baby. She had no idea what the rest of Nuala’s speech had been but clearly this was what she wanted. She smiled and handed her child over at once, and Abby swallowed, looking down at the little person in her arms. How old were they? She realized abruptly that she didn’t know how to tell how old babies were - or what they needed - and that they were so much more squirmy than she expected, and heavier to boot. The baby she was holding had deep brown eyes and big soft cheeks, and dimples on either side of pursed pink lips.

“His name is Elaryl,” Nuala said, smiling and nervous.

“Hello Elaryl,” Abby said, instantly feeling a bit silly, because he probably couldn’t understand her anyway. 

He wriggled in her grasp again, as much as he could in his tight, thick swaddling, and his frown deepened. It had a hood on it that was lined with fur, something far too warm for their current climate. She found herself absently rocking him, and then untucking the swaddling just a little so he could wiggle more and feel a little cooler in the warm air of the fortress. His frown smoothed out and he cooed again, looking up at her.

“You’re so good with him,” Nuala said. “He’s been so fussy since we came here. It’s so much warmer than home but we left in such a rush to escape the fighting that I didn’t have anything cooler for him to wear. He’s calmed right down with you though - do you have children of your own, Herald?”

I do. Right now. In my belly. And I can hardly believe it and I don’t think I’ve said those words out loud yet, and thank whatever gods there are that I can keep this little one happy because I have no idea what I’m going to be doing with my own -

“Someday,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing, and not too terrified. It wasn’t even a lie. Someday was coincidentally coming in seven or eight months or so. She handled Elaryl back to Nuala.

“Thank you, Herald,” Nuala said, beaming, curtseying, and Abby knew she didn’t deserve such deference but she would be damned if she didn’t live up to it anyway.

So she did double the rounds that day, even though she was bone-tired, more tired than she had ever been. Everything seemed to matter a little more now, like someone had dialed up the colors in the world. She’d always been part of Solas’s rebellion because it was right - and of course because it mattered to him, and they were nothing if they were not partners - but now she found herself thinking of the kind of world she wanted for their child, and what she could do to make it happen.

She didn’t see Solas until late in the day, which was normal. He’d been away from the fortress for most of it, meeting with contacts in various places, wearing his different guises. Many of them did not even know that it was the Dread Wolf they met with. He did not look very Dread to Abby when he slipped into her chambers. He just looked tired.

For a moment her heart leapt and she wanted to tell him, to make him a partner in truth to her secret - but then he did not even speak to her, and simply collapsed into bed, snaking his arms around her and pillowing his head on her chest, and sighed the sigh of a man with the world on his shoulders. He was so far from the boy she’d known now, and her heart ached to see all the ways this war was stripping him bare.

Abby held him tight, kissed the top of his head, and decided to keep her secret a little longer.

*

A little longer turned out to be two more months - but who was counting.

She’d managed to hide the extent of her exhaustion and sickness from Solas in that time. She was just starting to feel better, which she learned from the texts she read was entirely normal, and likely meant that she had passed the three month mark of her pregnancy. She was out of the worst danger - of losing the baby, at least. She was starting to feel more and more like her old self. That meant it was time to tell Solas. There were more reasons to be joyful than there were to be afraid.

Other than, of course, all of the death and injustice around them.

Which was why Abby simply could not sit idle when she heard of a remote village that was the target of an attack by Falon’Din’s forces. Not when there was time to evacuate them before they were taken as slaves to a man who would bathe the whole world in blood to soothe his ego. Solas himself was away from the fortress fighting against Andruil when the report arrived, so it was up to her to make the decision and carry it out.

She called up a small unit of soldiers used to such strikes and headed out through the eluvians, and of course counterspies had heard they were on their way and mobilized Falon’Din’s forces sooner than expected (of course). So of course it was not the quick and quiet in and out mission she’d assured herself it would be.

Instead there was fire and death.

And Abby was abruptly aware of just how much she was risking by being there in person.

Because even if she and Solas had managed to keep their bonding a secret, everyone knew she meant something to him, even if only as his foremost lieutenant, his Herald. His childhood friend. His special weapon.

So the Evanuris had studied her, and they knew what she feared most, and it was the fire.

So while the soldiers she’d brought with her to that remote place, perched high in a mountain range that divided the continent, spent their time shepherding terrified villagers out of the way, Abby spent her time fighting Falon’Din’s soldiers, all of whom were wreathed in flame and smoke - slinging gouts and spurts and balls of fire towards her. She nullified as much as she could - broke open their minds so she could hear their thoughts and predict their next moves - filled their minds with shouts and thoughts of horror - but she was tiring rapidly. Her abilities exhausted her far more than using magic seemed to exhaust most people. Solas had tried to explain to her the concept of mana, but either her pool was much smaller than most, or it drained much more quickly, because she could never seem to sense her limits the way he could his.

And now she was not just fighting for herself, or even for the innocent people her soldiers were currently saving. She was fighting for the child nestled in her belly.

What have I done? She thought when the first arrow struck her in the left shoulder, piercing her leather armor, taking the wind from her lungs.

She sent a wave of force towards the soldier who’d fired it, knocking him off of the nearby cliff.

I am fighting for the kind of world I want my child to grow up in, she reminded herself when the second arrow struck her, again in the left shoulder, numbing her left arm. 

She was dizzy from diving in and out of the minds of her enemies and she staggered and that was all the opening the one closest to her needed to shoot flames straight at her, lighting up her right leg with pain. She screamed and the cold mountain air made her throat raw with it.

The woman who’d wounded her was closing in, magic sparking around her fingers again.

I am fighting for my child.

Abby summoned the last of her strength and choked the woman with the same invisible force she’d used to push one of her comrades off the cliff.

“Herald!” one of her own soldiers shouted. “The village is clear!”

Time to go.

Abby fled.

She barely remembered the journey back through the eluvians if she was perfectly honest. She just kept putting one foot in front of the other. The arrows were still in her left shoulder and she could smell her own charred flesh. Her stomach turned. But she looked ahead and saw all the people they’d saved and she knew she had to get them to the fortress. She’d brought them this far.

So she managed not to collapse entirely until every last one of them was inside.

But then she did collapse into a darkness so complete she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t death.

*

There were snatches of memory after that. Hushed voices, cool hands, the tingling rush of healing magic. Soft linen sheets. Her whole body was too heavy with exhaustion to process much of it. Time didn’t have its usual meaning but she knew it was passing - a day, maybe two, maybe three. And then, finally, there was something familiar.

Solas - his face filled with a concern so fierce it frightened even her. He seemed to fill the world with it. There was nothing but him and his blue eyes and his brow furrowed with worry.

“Where - ” she began, her throat dry, her head and vision swimming.

“You’re pregnant?” he finished.

Well, shit.

“Yes,” she said, weakly.

Solas dropped his face into both of his hands, scrubbing at his eyes before looking back at her, as if to assure himself that all of this was real. Abby felt herself come back more fully into her body. She ached but she wasn’t in any severe pain. She could feel lingering healing magic all around her and fought the urge to nullify it that her powers always gave her. She began to take in details of the room around them. It was Solas’s room. Not her own.

“Am I in your room?”

“I asked them to move you here when I returned home.”

“But - is that wise? Won’t people - ”

“The whole fortress was already filling with rumors when I arrived, considering that when the healers brought you to our very public hospital to remove the arrows and heal the burns on your leg, they discovered that your abdomen was unusually swollen and confirmed their suspicions aloud.”

Abby’s head wasn’t swimming anymore, but her heart was sinking.

“But - there’s nothing to say that it’s yours -”

“People drew their own conclusions the moment the news of your pregnancy began to spread. Perhaps we have not been as discreet as we thought, or perhaps it is inevitable that any closeness between a man and a woman is interpreted this way. In any case, the rumors spread like wildfire.”

“We can contain - ”

“Andruil herself told me, Abby. Threw it in my face on the battlefield.”

Abby sat up at once.

“What? How - ”

“We know there are spies in our midst, no matter what we do to root them out. Once the rumor spread through the castle, it was inevitable it would reach one of them and make its way back to our enemies. I am confident it was sent as an urgent dispatch, considering the leverage it would give any of the Evanuris to know that I have a bondmate and a child, to boot. It was likely only hours before Andruil knew, and I did not.”

“Shit.” 

Abby tried to run through all the implications and scenarios and how they could be manipulated, what they could do to mitigate this, but her mind and her heart kept returning to Solas, to the way he was sitting at her bedside, tense and afraid and angry. Her mind played through the image again - Solas and Andruil locked in combat, and Andruil’s beautiful, sneering face when she said it. How many insults had she added? How had she phrased it to best shake and mock and destabilize him? Abby had no doubt that she had taken something that was meant to be beautiful and twisted it to the fullest, turning its beauty inside out.

“That is not how I wanted you to find out, vhenan,” she said. She started to reach for him and then hesitated, letting her hand fall back to the comforter. Solas did not reach for it.

“How could you keep this from me?” Solas said, voice rising in anger now.

“I hardly believed it at first!” Abby said, her own anger rising in her. “You and I both agreed that it was nearly impossible considering that you’re an elf and I’m - whatever it is that I am! And it’s always risky early on and you already had so much on your plate so - I wanted to give you one less thing to worry about. I’d just crossed three months when I went on that mission. I was literally going to tell you when you returned from your mission against Andruil. I was just sidetracked by a couple of arrows to the shoulder.”

Solas sighed, looked away from her, shook his head. The window in his room was open. A breeze came through, making Abby’s skin prickle. She brought both of her hands to her belly. It was barely rounding out, but it was there now. Unmistakable.

“I cannot believe you risked yourself so, knowing what you knew,” Solas said finally, quietly. “I cannot - vhenan, if I had lost you both -”

Abby reached for him again. This time, Solas took her hand in both of his own and pressed it hard. The mask of his anger fell away entirely, and only fear and love were left in its wake. He leaned towards her, pressed his forehead to hers - let go of her hand with one of his and cupped the back of her head and held her there. Abby closed her eyes and lost herself in the closeness of him. They each breathed deep. The world didn’t seem so complicated in that moment. There was only them.

“You should go away from here,” Solas murmured. “To your parents. Until the baby is born. I fear I cannot protect you now.”

“No,” Abby said, barely letting him finish. “When you and I bonded, I swore to stay by your side regardless of the danger, and I stand by that.”

Solas let out a hollow laugh. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

“I am terribly predictable.”

His laugh was more genuine that time. They drew back so they could see each other. Abby took in the face of the man she loved - her best friend - basking in how lucky she was to have him to share all her secrets with.

*

So it wasn’t exactly a secret that Abby was pregnant anymore - but they could deal with that. And they did. They spread conflicting information through their own spies in the ranks of the Evanuris - that it had been a lie, that she’d lost the baby, that it was someone else’s - until the water was muddied enough. That bought them time. In that time, they increased security at the fortress - more magic wards, more spirit guardians who reacted poorly to anyone who didn’t know the password, which was always shifting. They doubled the efforts to root out spies who did slip in.

Of course, in that time, Abby’s belly grew. She was a tall woman - almost absurdly so - which meant she had plenty of time before she was big enough to be truly noticeable, but she still got there. And, truth be told, it was hard for Solas to keep up the pretense that it wasn’t his. He wanted to be near her, to check on her, to touch and hold her, like some primal instinct had been awoken within him. It was both annoying and endearing. He was also even more zealous - something she would have thought impossible before all of this - about his need to take down the Evanuris and their empire of blood and death and lies. She had to remind him to sleep sometimes.

But in the midst of all of that, she found time - like when she was lying in bed and she could feel the little one rolling and wriggling and kicking within her - to feel incandescently lucky. She had a bondmate who loved her and a child she never thought possible on the way.

She found time - like when she spoke to her parents via sending crystal - to feel properly terrified. She had no memory of her own mother, and her parents reminded her that she’d been a very big baby for her age, and now she was convinced that she had killed her mother in the birthing bed.

She found time - like when she looked at the elves all around her - to worry that her own child would feel as alone and alien as she had all her life.

Eventually, as it often did, time started to get away from them. Abby got too big and too tired to continue attending to all of her duties. She and Solas both became abruptly aware that this was no theoretical child, but a child who would be here very, very soon.

Abby started getting the false contractions near that ninth month, so long after that day with Nuala and her son Elaryl. Elaryl was walking now, chattering too. Soon Abby would be the one with a baby in her arms. Each false contraction sent her into a tizzy of worry that that time was almost on her. Solas too. It went on for two weeks like that - the two of them tense and nervous, like an attack was imminent.

Of course, when labor itself did begin, it might as well have been an attack.

Abby wasn’t sure there were words for that kind of pain in any language. How endless it felt. How it yanked you out of your own body and mind and into some other world where pain was all you knew, all that existed.

It went on for hours, and hours, and hours.

The midwives were exhausted, perplexed, muttering about the size of the baby, about how dangerous it was for the birth to go on this long, about infection and strangling umbilical cords, and Solas was white as death, gripping her hand almost as hard as she gripped his.

“It is fine. Everything is fine,” he kept saying, over and over again, though to himself or to her she wasn’t sure. Either way Abby didn’t believe him, either way the pain just went on and on and on and on and on -

Until, suddenly, he was there.

Her son, huge and wailing and pressed against her chest.

And all the pain was gone, so fast it made her doubt it had ever existed. That anything had ever existed other than the new little person cuddled against her.

She heard Solas take a shuddering breath at her side.

Their son - the secret they’d shared - was here. Breath and bone and beautiful as dawn.

Abby’s sense of wonder only grew as the minutes passed - as he ate and then got cleaned up and returned to her, warm and swaddled and sleeping now.

To think - all those childhood adventures - the stupid shit they’d done - and then their adult lives - the way they’d found each other, the days and nights and battles and embraces they’d shared since then - it had all led to this. To him.

Fen’revas.

“I do not even know what to say,” Solas murmured when it was just the two of them, sitting together in their bed, holding Fen’revas, studying him.

“That may be a first,” Abby said. 

Solas chuckled, kissed her forehead. Fen’revas was soft and warm in Abby’s lap. She was soul-tired - it had been more than a day since her labor started, and Fen’revas was not small, as the midwives had predicted - but she couldn’t imagine sleeping. Not when he was here, and his little chest was rising and falling, and each breath was a miracle.

“I have to make this work,” Solas said finally, quietly. “This war - what we’re fighting for - I have to make everything right for my son.”

Abby leaned into Solas, hoping the wordless action would remind him that he did not carry that burden alone.

They did have to shift him to his bassinette eventually so they themselves could sleep. After she’d done so, Abby reached into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out the crystal necklace she’d had as long as she could remember. Her parents had found it tucked into her swaddling clothes. It was the only connection she had to birth parents she’d never known - to a life she’d never known.

Now it was a connection between her and her son. The most precious secret she had ever shared with another person: you are not alone.

Abby slept, and dreamed of all the precious secrets that were to come.

[arcticdementor]

When I think of the Waverly Diner on 6th Avenue and Waverly Place in Greenwich Village, I am moved by romantic nostalgia. By that I only mean that when I think of the Waverly I feel, in some way, what it was like to be young and in the rush of the conversation. The conversation was everything. It flowed all around us, in the subways and the streets, in the diners and the high-rise apartments, and if you could master it, it could take you anywhere. You could still smoke inside of diners back then and sometimes we spent whole days around an ashtray and a plate of disco fries, getting refills on the coffee. I’m not saying all the arguments were good, but sometimes it was thrilling.

Perhaps that’s a uniquely New York thing, to place so much faith in talking. But it once felt very American, too; the diner-booth yapper animated by argument, one version of the big city fast talker who reflected an aspect of the national character right there alongside the taciturn cowboy, the trapper frontiersman, and the Puritan. American because, if you could think it and you could argue it, then maybe you could be it, too. It was at least possible. And it was democratic in the best sense. You could talk to anyone, butt into any stranger’s conversation, as long as you had something interesting to say.

I don’t know how to argue in America anymore, or whether it’s even worth it. For someone like me, that is a real tragedy and so I would like to understand how this new reality came about.

There are distinct and deep-rooted traditions of rational empiricism and religious sermonizing in American history. But these two modes seem to have become fused together in a new form of argumentation that is validated by elite institutions like the universities, The New York Times, Gracie Mansion, and especially on the new technology platforms where battles over the discourse are now waged. The new mode is argument by commandment: It borrows the form to game the discourse of rational argumentation in order to issue moral commandments. No official doctrine yet exists for this syncretic belief system but its features have been on display in all of the major debates over political morality of the past decade. Marrying the technical nomenclature of rational proof to the soaring eschatology of the sermon, it releases adherents from the normal bounds of reason. The arguer-commander is animated by a vision of secular hell—unremitting racial oppression that never improves despite myths about progress; society as a ceaseless subjection to rape and sexual assault; Trump himself, arriving to inaugurate a Luciferean reign of torture. Those in possession of this vision do not offer the possibility of redemption or transcendence, they come to deliver justice. In possession of justice, the arguer-commander is free at any moment to throw off the cloak of reason and proclaim you a bigot—racist, sexist, transphobe—who must be fired from your job and socially shunned.

Practitioners of the new argument bolster their rationalist veneer with constant appeals to forms of authority that come in equal parts from biology and elite credentialing. Have you noticed how many people, especially online, start their statements by telling you their profession or their identity group: As a privileged white woman; as a doctoral student in applied linguistics; as a progressive Jewish BIPOC paleontologist—and so on? These are military salutes, which are used to establish rank between fellow “az-uhs” while distinguishing them as a class from the civilian population. You must always listen to the experts, the new form of argument insists, and to the science. Anything else would be invalid; science denialism; not rational; immoral.

Because of the way it toggles back and forth between rationalism and religiosity, switching categories by taking recourse to one when the other is questioned, the new form of argument-commandment, rather than invalidating itself or foundering on its own contradictions, becomes, somehow, rhetorically invincible—through the demonstration of power relations that the arguer denies exist, but are plainly manifest in the progress of the argument.

…

Argument itself requires that certain fundamental questions are settled and beyond dispute. In order to argue over whether the sky is blue, we’ll have to agree on what the sky is. The new argumentation has not only vastly expanded the number of subjects that are supposed to be beyond argumentation, it has, by a sleight of hand, reversed the nature of the matters that cannot be questioned. Now, it is precisely the most contentious issues—is biological sex a valid concept? Is racism and abuse so widespread in American law enforcement that we should immediately defund the police?—that must be accepted a priori.

To insist that the conclusion that the arguer wishes to reach, with its implied corollary commandment, must be accepted by his or her opponent as a premise before the argument begins is not the move of a person who has confidence in their truth. It is the opposite of any form of reasoned argument. It is coercive. Except the people who argue this way claim that they cannot possibly be coercive, because you must accept the premise that they don’t have power—even if they are editing The New York Times Magazine, or threatening to get you fired from your job. You say they can’t have it both ways? They say, why not—and then accuse you of opposing the powerless, which, it turns out, is a form of authority that cannot be trumped.

The reason we cannot argue about certain things is because they have already been proven true and the truth they have established is such a significant moral advance—like ending child sacrifice—that to question the rational basis on which the truth rests is to risk eroding a foundation of the moral progress that separates us from encroaching barbarism. If you want to argue about those things, then you are a barbarian—which means that argument with you is impossible, because the only argument that barbarians understand is being put to the sword or sent off to a labor camp.

Do you need me to give you an example of this kind of argument? Not really, because such arguments have become the norm. But here are a few recent examples:

…

Here are the two parts of the argument by commandment. There is the empirical assertion—let’s call it X. And there is the moral claim suggested by, or perhaps even mandated by the evidence of X—let’s call that Y. Empirical evidence shows that there is an epidemic of sexual assault against women, that epidemic requires a drastic corrective, and that corrective enshrines a moral claim and a commandment—American women are sexually victimized, egregiously and without the protections of a justice system that systemically discriminates against them. Therefore it is virtuous to “believe women” and to encode that belief formally in new procedures of law and justice.

Only it turns out the rational argument was wrong. The evidence did not actually show that 1 in 5 women would be sexually assaulted on a college campus, a statistic repeated by President Barack Obama himself to justify “sweeping changes in national policy.”

…

But if you were clueless enough to point out the flaws in rational claim X, even if just to wonder over matters of degree, then wham!—you were whacked in the face with moral claim Y. Evidence X isn’t evidence; it’s window dressing. And if you’re too stupid to understand that, then you’re probably an even worse person than the arguer supposed.

Because—think about it—who else but a fervent, drooling misogynist, or a rape apologist, or a real live rapist, namely someone both ideologically and emotionally invested in actively disbelieving women, would be so interested in picking apart the evidence that supported such an obviously virtuous and necessary claim—especially now, at a moment when people are literally dying? What basis would anyone have to question X aside from the desire to violate the moral value of Y?

…

The organs of reason and expertise have one by one, pledged their cultish loyalty to this new faith. A group of doctors wrote an article in Scientific American explaining why the mentioning or reading of the results of George Floyd’s autopsy was a racist act. Public health officials across the country, who had in May condemned public demonstrations in the strongest terms, now fully endorse the protests sparked by the killing of George Floyd. In a petition signed by some 1,200 health officials, they declare that it is incumbent on others in the profession to offer “unwavering support” to the current protesters as a matter of both moral and medical hygiene. They all together elide the difference between empirical claim and moral commandment by declaring that, “White supremacy is a lethal public health issue that predates and contributes to COVID-19.” And so, the merger of pseudorationalist discourse with the new American religion of anti-racism is completed.

America’s elite institutions now routinely make statements and use language that empirically is false. Indeed, they have taken the making, propagation, and enforcement of such language as their central mission. Because these statements are false, they make solutions to the real problems that are being gestured at impossible—while turning people who may want to actually address those problems into evil rape apologists and racists.

What we are witnessing, in the rapidly transforming norms around race, sex, and gender, is not an argument at all but a revolution in moral sentiment. In all revolutions, the new thing struggling to be born makes use of the old system in order to overthrow it. At present, institutions like the university, the press, and the medical profession preserve the appearance of reason, empiricism, and argument while altering, through edict and coercion, the meaning of essential terms in the moral lexicon, like fairness, equality, friendship, and love. That the effort wins so much support speaks to the deep contradictions and corruption of American meritocratic institutions, and of the liberal individualist moral regime it seeks to replace.

[antiquecompass]

So I couldn’t help myself and here’s the second part of today’s Dynamic post for The Untamed Fest

See, the thing was, Lan Sizhui was easy to love. With his soft smile and kind eyes and always smelling like fresh cotton and good things. He wasn’t arrogant, even if he had every right to be, and he quietly led by example, totally unaware that he had most of the school, the town, and generally anyone he met, wrapped around his fingers.

So no one, least of all Jingyi himself, would be surprised to find out Jingyi loved Sizhui. In fact, when he sat back and really thought about, he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t love Sizhui. 

Being in love with Sizhui? Now, that was an entirely different matter.

It was hard as hell.

It was hard as hell to not lean over the table while they studied and kissed that spot on his cheek, right over his mole. It was impossible to not reach over and grab his hand as they walked, a constant anchor since they were kids, that had started to mean so much more to Jingyi as they grew older. Every single time Sizhui laughed or smiled or did anything to cause his eyes to crinkle up in joy, Jingyi had to pinch himself or bite his own tongue to not just scream, I love you I love you I love you, over and over again.

His parents had been absolutely no help when he went to them with his problem. He should’ve seen that coming considering who they were--the most flighty of artists who raised him to believe in things like, truth, valor, true love, soul mates, and romance. They were loving parents, but also absent, as they spent more time traveling the world in pursuit of finding their bliss and following nature’s true beauty or whatever other bullshit they’d decided on that month to justify their traveling of the world. And even though they’d left Jingyi behind (granted with the family to be raised in a normal, stable, childhood), they always answered his calls.

When he’d called them with this problem, his father had sighed dreamily into the phone about young love while his mother told him how much she’d always liked Sizhui. So, no help there.

Great Uncle Lan was an option Jingyi refused to even think about. The man would probably give him a detention for daring to have emotions.

Headmaster Lan, Cousin Xichen, would be kind and understanding and offer him some sort of baked good that he’d tried to make on his own, but would in fact taste like concrete, because Cousin Xichen was a disaster in the kitchen. And the laundry room. And a menace in general to household chores, even though he really, really tried. So Jingyi would probably go over there for advice, end up eating a brownie made with salt instead of sugar, and fixing Xichen’s dishwasher. Again. For the fifth time. All without actually getting any helpful advice besides a pat on his shoulder and an assurance that he was a good kid.

Auntie Molly, proudly named after Molly Brown and the breaking of over a couple centuries of family naming traditions, was the one currently boarding him during his parents latest adventure. She was one of the more unique Lans. Free-spirited. Communed with nature type. Claimed she could talk to ghosts and see past lives, and Jingyi would call bullshit, but the woman had a talent for guessing the lotto numbers right. She never played, because she claimed it would be unethical, and besides Lans didn’t gamble, but she hadn’t been wrong yet. She’d probably take his hand and try to predict his future and Jingyi didn’t want to know yet if Fate wanted to fuck him over or throw him a gimme, so she was a hard pass.

There was one solution. Perhaps obvious, but so, so awkward.

So with no other viable options, it was time for Jingyi to undertake Mission Ask My Best Friend’s Father If He Thinks I Have Even An Iota Of A Chance In Dating His Son. 

************

“Jingyi, is that a golf cart?”

Jingyi turned from the entrance of the Lan-Wei greenhouse, where his teacher, his best friend’s father, who was also his pseudo-cousin, stood with a garden apron covered in flying pigs over his clothes and lime green work gloves on his hands.

None of his fellow students would ever believe how relaxed their exalted Hanguang-Jun was in the confines of his own home. Jingyi had seen him in bunny slippers. Multiple times.

“Jingyi?” Cousin Zhan asked.

“Yes,” Jingyi said, turning back from the golf cart he’d parked in the driveway. “Well, you know, I can’t drive a real car yet, and I wasn’t going to skate or bike here, and my dirtbike is still recovering from Zizhen’s attempt to ride it. So, I borrowed Aunt Molly’s golf cart.”

“And they let you out of the neighborhood with that?

“Me and Officer Shelton have an understanding,” Jingyi said.

Cousin Zhan had that look on his face that meant he was debating if he needed to give Jingyi a punishment for whatever he’d done this time. He finally shrugged.

“Not your circus, not your monkeys?” Jingyi asked.

Cousin Zhan nodded before returning his greenhouse. “I assume you know Sizhui is with his cousins in Boston for the weekend.”

“Yes. I actually, I came here to see you, Sir--Teacher--Mister--Cousin.”

A clatter of garden shears and a broken pot made Jingyi wince as Lan Zhan turned back to him, eyes wide and face almost stunned.

“Is it happening?” he asked.

“Uh,” Jingyi looked around for anyone who might be of help if he was about to be killed with a rake. “Is what happening?”

“Are you not here to ask if you can date Sizhui?”

“How do you know that!”

Jingyi only yelled loud enough to startle the crows in the garden. Hopefully Sizhui’s dad didn’t hear him, locked up in his tower working, or else he’d never live it down.

************

A warm cup of tea and a plate of gingersnaps were set down in front of Jingyi. He didn’t like gingersnaps or fruity teas, but all of the Elder Lans tended to default to them when it came to comfort food. Or when they thought someone needed to be calmed down.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Jingyi said as he put a sugar cube in his tea under his cousin’s judging eyes. 

“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said. 

The flying pig apron and green garden gloves were gone to leave a man in worn jeans and an old Vanessa-Mae t-shirt. He looked far less intimidating now. More like the family member who had hugged Jingyi and rocked him back to sleep the first time his parents had dropped him off before going to see the world. He was the adult who always took him to the dentists and the doctors and tried to include him in as many family events as possible, even now when it was obvious he knew how Jingyi’s feelings had started to change towards his one, and only, child. 

“I do want to date Sizhui,” Jingyi said, the words starting to tumble out of his mouth under those trusting eyes. “And I know it’s up to him, how he feels, that it’s his decision. That he’d respect what you and Mr. Lan-Wei would feel, but in the end would follow his own heart. He’s fair like that. And I don’t know, maybe part of me came here in the hopes you’d talk me out of it, because, l, honestly, Cousin, I’m fucking terrified.”

“I know,” he said. Warm fingers patted Jingyi’s wrist. “It’s a leap of faith, even when you’re in love with someone you know and trust. That fear lives in you, the doubt, that maybe you’re not good enough for them, or exciting enough to hold their attention, or that they’ll move on from you, getting tired of waiting.”

That all sounded pretty damn familiar. 

“But Jingyi, you also have to remember who Sizhui is.”

Kind. Caring. Trustworthy. Gentle. Determined. Stubborn. Defiant when he felt he was right and someone else was wrong. Quietly sarcastic in a way few got to hear. And while polite and willing to listen, would never bend from the beliefs he held true to himself.

“I think it’d break my heart even more if he lets me down all gentle and nice. Because, like, I couldn’t even be hurt. I shouldn’t be anyway because his feelings are his feelings and they’re valid, but I’m like a little moth flitting around and he’s the friggin’ moon.”

“Then perhaps you need to fly higher,” Lan Zhan said with the small quirk of a smile. “Is he worth trying for? Even with the risk of failure?”

“How is that even a question?” Jingyi asked.

“Then you have your answer,” he said. 

“Right,” Jingyi said. “Right. I do. I can do this.” He looked down at his hands. “A timeline. I need a due date. Halloween? No, that’s his dad’s birthday, that would be awkward. The 21st. I’ll ask him out on the 21st.”

His cousin looked seconds away from laughing at him, but he just lifted his own cup of tea and took a sip.

“The 21st,” Jingyi repeated. “I can do this.”

[chronicowboy]

Are We the Strongest? -

To Better Circumstances

masterlist

Their first encounter was less than ideal. There were no introductions, no handshakes, no greetings. It was life or death. Hero or villain. Relief or grief. And despite Carol's decades of singlehandedly saving galaxies and entire civilisations this short rescue mission felt like her most important one to date. A pressure like no other settled on her shoulders and she would come to wonder if that was what Tony Stark felt like on a daily basis. Ignoring the sense of make or break the fate of the entire universe that she was experiencing, Carol acted without hesitation. She strutted out of the compound and shot off into the void of space with one thing on her mind: find Tony Stark. This time, however, it felt different when she broke through earth's atmosphere. It felt as unknowingly important as the man himself was. Carol couldn't decide whether it was that knowledge or the lost group of heroes below that meant she could find the ship in under an hour.

When she encountered the gently drifting leaf on the ripples of a blue supernova, Carol swore she felt the weight fall from her sore muscles for a grand total of a second. Her heart froze with terrified agony as her eyes landed on the man with closed eyes, sunken cheeks and a chest that didn't seem to move. She willed herself to glow brighter, pushed the energy to every extremity of herself until even she had to squint if she wanted to catch the billionaire open his eyes with as much effort as it took her to lift the ship and steer it towards his home planet.

As he stumbled down the ramp a suffocating joyful relief thickened the air so much so that Carol found it hard to breathe until he embraced his fiancee, Pepper he had whispered into her neck.

Tony's arrival was chaotic to say the least. He refused to rest once his friend had connected him to a drip and pushed him into a wheelchair. Everybody fussed over him until he snapped at them and directed their attention to the other being that was starving and dying on that ship with him. He caught everyone up, they caught him up. And, although he refused to break, Carol saw the toll the battle had taken on him. Even when no one else did. It was insane, she thought, how everyone but his real friends could see his struggle. It was only when the man did a 360 on the captain who was anything but a captain that his broken insides were painfully visible for all to see. And, even though Carol had no idea what happened between them, she found herself smirking as the mortal man confronted the super soldier with no weaponry whatsoever but his words and cracks as if they were the deadliest bombs the man had encountered. The corner of her mouth sunk when he collapsed. She barely knew him and yet she reacted immediately, going to catch him before she realised it probably wasn't her place. Even so, Carol got the feeling that Steve would have done nothing if hed hadn't have been so close and it was tragic.

She didn't want to intrude. This wasn't her place to be. Her place was a comfortable bungalow in Louisiana, but it didn't feel like home anymore. However, there was a tug that told her she had to see Tony. Like it was calling her home. And it was strange. Incredibly strange. But real. So real. After he had woken up, he tired his soon-to-be wife and best friend out whilst proving to them that he was still him old self. Thinner and older and impossibly more traumatised. But still him. The pair had fallen asleep in their bedside seats, leaving Tony alone. But there was some nagging feeling that he didn't want to be, so Carol decided to go and check on him. One simple choice that would change a life or two.

She peeked around the door, waving a hand that no longer glowed.

"Hey, Carol, is it?" He tilted his head, fighting the smile that tried to make an appearance at the new captain. She nodded, closing the door softly behind her. "Thanks for saving me and all. Big fan of that whole photon glow thing you have going on-"

"You don't have to do that." Her tone was firm yet sincere at his obvious deflection. Sympathy washed over her as she wondered how many of his so-called friends overlooked it as plain and simple apathy. Even if he didn't want her, she'd make him feel understood. "Look, I'm not gonna ask how you are because I know you'll just say you're fine in the form of some snarky comment-"

"So you're me, if I was blonde, female and an alien?" Her voice was far too genuine for the fragile billionaire.

"I'm of the human disposition, unfortunately. Survived a blast from the tesseract, absorbed its energy and here we are." The corner of his mouth ticked up and Carol fought off her own smile. "I don't know what went on with you guys," she gestured to Steve who was examining a hologram outside with Natasha, "but I want you to know that I don't give a shit. That rant was the most satisfying and entertaining thing I've seen since 90's tv. And I know he deserved it." She dropped into the chair next to Rhodey as he chuckled. "I've seen the tapes. Of you fighting," and Tony was struck with the horrifying sense of deja vu. He wasn't ready for a new prospect in the friendship area to drag up his deepest insecurity and lay it all on the line. The line that he wouldn't lay down on and let someone else crawl over him, according to Rogers. "You're a good man. You fight for what's right, anyway you can, but you still take more precautions than the rest of them to preserve civilian lives." There was a beat of awkward silence as Tony mulled over her words and Carol let him before she clapped her hands. She winced, checking to see if Pepper or Rhodey had woken up. "Okay, well, that's the most emotion I've done for years." Tony laughed, it was loud — as loud as could be so his family wouldn't wake up — and glorious and it made Carol feel inexplicably proud.

"So besides turning into a glow worm because of the tesseract, what's your story?" He asked, shifting to get comfortable. She jumped up and held his arm as she rearranged his pillows. His gaze was intense as he examined her and she felt it burning through her so she cleared her throat.

"You know, not many people get to see that side of me." She admitted, running a hand over the back of her neck.

"I'm honoured?" He smirked.

"I was a pilot in the 90's. Couldn't fly for the army because I was a woman, so I tested planes. One day, I crash. Straight into some kind of alien mission. The Krees wanted the tesseract so I blew it up. Woke up and they turned me into their pawn. I didn't know what I was." Carol shifted, kicking her feet up onto the end of his bed. "My first proper mission goes wrong and I crash on earth. Fury meets me, you know Fury?"

"We've met." Tony cocked his head to the side. Did Fury really get himself everywhere?

"He told me a lot about you. Bitched about everyone in his confidential boy band." So she is a blonde, female version of him. "Anyway, he gives me a nice, warm greeting before I convince him of the Skrulls' existence. A shapeshifting alien race. Then, I find out I had a family. A best friend and her little girl. Maria and Monica." She looked at him and saw the realisation dawn on him. But it wasn't pity, it was understanding. She nodded and he interrupted for the first time.

"The kid," and Carol remembered his first words, "Spiderman. Queens' local vigilante. Teenager. Batshit crazy teenager, Peter. I tried to keep him safe. I did. I did everything, but it didn't work. I was ready to die for him, but that choice was taken from me by that stupid wizard." He stopped himself and looked to her, tears glistening. She could see the pleading in his eyes and she knew she should continue.

"They helped me find my old self. The Skrulls, they were just trying to find a home. So I knew I had to help them. I got to break free from the Krees' control. And I did. Destroyed some missiles from a dick called Ronan. Then, just helped the universe. And listened to Fury complain about his superhero children." Tony laughed, wiping his tears away. "You know, the Avengers are named after me." She bragged.

"Is that right?" He removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table.

"Captain Carol 'Avenger' Danvers." She clarified. "Except, I'm a real captain. Unlike America over there." She jabbed a thumb at the stern-looking man. "Before I got promoted to colonel." Tony chuckled again.

"Oh my god. Please pull rank. Please. I beg you." Carol joined in, shaking her head.

"Couldn't do that to his ego. Its bigger than your's." She joked, rolling her eyes. "I'll do it if he pulls any shit with you."

"Carol Danvers, are you my guardian angel?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "But if I was, I would have protected you from them."

"So Maria," he began, "just your best friend, right?" Tony swore looks could kill as his breathing slowed down and his heart sped up. It couldn't be a good combination.

"You're a bit like me, right? Kidnapped, turned into something bigger than you should be. Lied to. Betrayed. All of the hero origins combined into one very fragile human. Apart from, your brain gave birth to Ironman and my stupid nobility gave birth to Captain Marvel." If an AI had eyes, Tony was sure that it would roll its eyes at the amount of eye rolling that had taken place in the small hospital room.

"Yeah, I'm a genius."

"Hey, me too." She cheered, hushing her voice as James' head lolled to his shoulder.

"Well, maybe, but-"

"You're smarter, I'm stronger." Her voice dripped with humour, but Tony thought it was a good compromise.

"I'm not gonna argue with you there, firefly." He held his hands up in defeat. "You're the strongest of us all." Carol didn't normally like compliments, but it felt special from him. "Because you're me if I had the physical strength."

The rest of the night was filled with laughter until Carol's wrist lit up with a red alert.

"Duty calls, but it was nice meeting ya, Tony." She announced, standing. "Tell me if the big boy gives you any trouble." Her childish voice and condescending tone made the man smile. She was one foot out of the door when,

"Hey, Carol? If you ever need a place to crash, I'll send you the coordinates of the place I wanna build my house." He winked at her as she left. Perhaps he'd just made a new friend.

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