#ted’s hair is worse than how i drew it

[serialbxwl]

some early bill and ted doodles i did so i could get used to drawing them 🫶

[nicknellie]

I had Thoughts™️ about Reggie so I wrote them down. A lot of what I say in this post will be me drawing from my own experiences so I’m asking everyone to be respectful when adding to this or giving criticism or whatever.

TW for dementia, specifically Alzheimer’s.

When Reggie was little, until about the age of five, he was really close with his grandfather (on his father’s side)

His grandmother had died long before Reggie was born, so his grandad lived alone

When little Reggie visited or when his grandad babysat him, Reggie would always have the time of his life

His grandad was a talented artist - he and Reggie would paint together, and no matter what Reggie’s end product was his grandad would stick it to the fridge and proudly ruffle Reggie’s hair

Reggie would help his grandad in the garden because caring for his plants was always a comfort to his grandad

His grandad would tell little Reggie stories about all the plants - how the fuchsias were little ballerinas, and toadstools were their homes, and how the dandelions would dance with the daisies and the daffodils

Reggie loved hearing all his grandad’s stories and they always made him giggle

They would play music together too; his grandad had a marvellous old grand piano and although Reggie was more suited to guitar he enjoyed plonking out chords to go with the pieces his grandad would play

One day, when Reggie was six, his father picked him up from school early

They drove straight past Reggie’s house, so Reggie asked where they were going

His father told him very simply, trying not to frighten or worry him, that his grandad had tripped over so they were going to go to the hospital to see if he was alright

Reggie was immediately worried - he didn’t want to see his grandad hurt

They found out that when he fell his grandad had hit his head and hip - his hip was broken and while he was in hospital he needed multiple surgeries all very close to one another in order to keep him alive

He was in hospital for months, having surgery after surgery

The doctors hadn’t thought that the head injury was that serious and they had been correct, but the many surgeries caused some sort of other trauma to Reggie’s grandad

Eventually, he was discharged from hospital and Reggie’s dad bought him a frame to help him walk

As the months and years went by, Reggie started to notice small changes in his grandfather’s behaviour

It started with the smallest things

“Blast,” his grandad would say, “I’ve lost my bloody keys, I bet that awful neighbour stole them!”

And little Reggie, only seven and very confused, would say, “They’re here on the table, grandad.”

And his grandad, usually mild-mannered and very kind to Reggie, would snatch them up off the table and snap, “You probably put them there, trying to hide them from me. Trying to make me look stupid.”

Whenever things like that happened, Reggie would put it down to his grandad being in a bad mood

But things just kept getting worse and Reggie couldn’t understand it

Once, he asked his grandfather to make him a sandwich

“What?” his grandad replied

“A sandwich,” Reggie had repeated, thinking his grandad just hadn’t heard him

He got a blank look in return

“I... a what, son?”

“A sandwich, grandad.”

“I... I don’t know... No, I can’t.”

Reggie hadn’t had an explanation for that one. He got up and made his own sandwich and one for his grandad too, which remained uneaten

Another day, when Reggie was about ten, he and his grandad were going to go on a walk together

“Don’t forget to lock the door, grandad.”

“Lock the door?”

Reggie had turned around to see his grandad stood in the open door, looking utterly bewildered

“Yeah,” Reggie said. “Come outside and lock the door behind you, then we can get going.”

His grandad slowly came outside and shut the door behind him, but then looked to Reggie for help

“Do you have the key, grandad?”

“Of course I’ve got the key.”

He didn’t actually have the key - Reggie had to go back inside to get it and found it on the kitchen table

He came back outside and showed his grandad how to lock the door

“Well, of course I knew how to do that,” his grandad huffed

For the most part, Reggie could ignore it - old people forgot things all the time, right?

And it wasn’t like his grandad forgot everything; they would still paint together and they’d play music and his grandad would tell him all his stories about his garden (maybe just not as eloquently as before)

When Reggie was eleven, his grandad said, “Pass me the television remote, Arthur.”

Reggie had laughed and handed him the remote, saying, “It’s Reggie, grandad. Arthur is my dad.”

Reggie’s grandad had looked bewildered

“Reggie?”

Reggie had nodded, starting to feel concerned

“Yeah, Reggie... I’m your grandson, remember?”

His grandfather hadn’t said he remembered, he had just looked away and got back to changing the TV channel

Similar things kept happening: he would call Reggie ‘Arthur’, or the name of Reggie’s uncle, or what Reggie learned from his father was the name of someone he’d befriended in the war

“Why does grandad get my name wrong?” Reggie had asked when he was twelve

His father had sighed and run a tired hand over his eyes

“He’s got dementia, Reg. Your grandad, he’s going to forget a lot of things. Like names, and how to do easy things, a—”

“And his own family,” Reggie had said, remembering how his grandad hadn’t known who he was

“It’s not easy, Reg. And I’m sorry that he doesn’t always know who you are.”

“How do we fix him?”

His father had looked away - later Reggie would realise that it was because he was crying. “We can’t. There isn’t a cure.”

It had taken Reggie a while to understand what exactly dementia would do to his grandad - it was hard to understand how he didn’t know how to swallow a pill when he could sing entire songs off by heart before the lyrics had even started

Reggie tried to carry on as normal as possible

He learned to respond to the names Arthur, Brian, Oliver, Christopher, Ted, and any other name that wasn’t his own

He learned that when his grandad said “spoon” he actually meant “cup”, which was an easy enough link to get

But sometimes his grandad said “pillow” when what he really meant was “washing machine”, or he’d say “bird” when he really meant “paintbrush” and mistakes like that were harder to unpick; it made communication hard and his grandad would get frustrated when he wasn’t being understood

Reggie was keen to find ways to connect with his grandad, but it all felt bittersweet and painful

His grandad still loved it when they would paint together, but where he’d once been able to create beautiful sweeping landscapes there were now only blotches of dilute colours and the odd shape here and there

They both still loved playing music together, but now his grandad’s fingers would stumble over the piano keys and he’d lose his flow

His grandad could hardly get outside to attend to his garden safely anymore

Reggie’s father started hiring carers to go in every day and look after him

When they were around they would boss Reggie about and tell him not to get in the way

He understood they were just trying to do their job, but he didn’t like the brisk, harsh, matter-of-fact way they handled his grandad

His grandad didn’t deserve that; he deserved patience and kindness and to be helped gently rather than forced

Visiting started to get painful - Reggie would go to his grandad’s house and he would have deteriorated severely even overnight

Conversations had become repetitive and almost impossible - Reggie would answer a question and be asked the same one not a minute later

Reggie visited less and less

He never stopped completely, but sometimes it would hurt so much that he would leave weeks in between visits and his grandfather started to forget him even more

He couldn’t help how much it hurt - he had all those memories of spending time with his grandad, talking and laughing and being loved, and his grandad was losing it all; Reggie was losing his grandad right before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it or make it easier

He just had to watch as he became less and less like the man Reggie had once known

Reggie tried writing songs about it once Sunset Curve formed

Luke helped him sometimes, but Reggie didn’t like it when he did that - Luke didn’t have the right experiences, so his lyrics were forced and inaccurate and sensationalised and they didn’t show what was really going on

He never managed to finish any songs about his grandad

One day, Reggie was going through some old stuff he’d found under his bed, and came across a box of paintings he must have done with his grandad

One of them was a black background with a white emblem on it, a sweeping line almost like a road

Reggie spent the entire night painting the same thing but on a much bigger backdrop, emblazoning it with the words ‘Sunset Curve’ and adding splashes of colour

He was no artist but he drew upon every technique his grandad had ever taught him and it looked good in the end

He brought it to the next rehearsal, asked the others if they could use it, and they all agreed

When Reggie was fourteen, his grandad was deemed unfit to live at home by himself and was moved into full-time care

He couldn’t take everything when he moved into the home, so Reggie and his parents had to sort through it all

His mother just threw anything away that didn’t seem important; his father kept things with sentimental value; Reggie didn’t want to throw anything out at all

By the end of two weeks, his own bedroom was filled with things he didn’t need but couldn’t bring himself to get rid of: old cigarette cards, a collection of toy cars, a dozen flat caps, a broken walking stick, toys Reggie had played with as a child, hundreds of other items

The magnificent old grand piano now was in Reggie’s living room

Reggie would visit his grandad at the home

His grandad despised living with all the other old people, but the carers were good at making him happy

He liked seeing Reggie even if he didn’t have any idea who he was

Reggie would bring his bass sometimes and have the volume as low as it would go, playing for his grandad in his room

His grandad loved it

Sometimes it could get too much for Reggie to be there - usually a carer would notice and provide him with an excuse to leave or take a breather

It hurt having to leave without saying goodbye, but it saved a lot of pain and confusion

A few days after Reggie’s fifteenth birthday, his dad got a call from the care home

His grandad had fallen again and was in the hospital

Reggie visited with his dad

His grandad was in bed, practically immobile - the doctors said he had broken his hip again

Nobody told Reggie, but it was obvious that recovery was unlikely

His grandad was sent back to the care home to be looked after, but was bed-bound

Reggie visited as much as he could, trying to make up for all the time he had missed when it had been too painful to go

One day, Reggie was shown into his grandad’s room and sat beside his bed as usual

His grandad turned to face him, smiled, and took his hand

“Reggie. It’s so lovely to see you. Thank you for coming to visit me, son.”

It had taken everything in Reggie’s being to stop himself from bursting into tears

He clutched his grandad’s hand tighter and shakily breathed, “Always, grandad. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

There was a pause

“I will miss you,” Reggie whispered

“And I will also miss you.”

That evening, just as the family sat down to eat dinner, they received a call from the care home telling them that Reggie’s grandfather had passed away in his sleep

It was over

Whenever Sunset Curve made money from gigs, Reggie made sure to donate some of his share to dementia charities and the care home that had looked after his grandfather

He tried writing more songs for him, but still couldn’t find the words

Every now and then, he would find a birthday card or something similar that his grandad had written him - his handwriting and spelling had got worse and worse as his dementia had progressed but Reggie’s heart swelled when he read them

‘Dearest Reggie, happy birthday. I love you very much. Grandad.’

Reggie kept that little note with him wherever he went

When Reggie died, he almost hoped he would get to see his grandad again, but he was glad that he didn’t - that meant his grandad had crossed over, which meant that his life had been fulfilled

And for the rest of his life and afterlife, fuchsias remained Reggie’s favourite flower

He would see them dancing on a breeze and hear his grandad’s voice telling him they were beautiful ballerinas who lived in the toadstools

It comforted him on his darkest days

This is a link to a post I made where you can learn more about dementia and donate to Dementia UK and the Alzheimer’s Society.

[startwithbrooklyn]

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / OCTOBER 3, 2019 // the trial

(TW SUICIDE)

it's the reveal!!!! love that for her hope shes thriving (shes not) again w the two minutes of the next episode to sync the dates

-lmaoooo so i honestly wonder why they went for the full pulling-it-out-the-throat thing but idk (an interesting foil to her getting sick for more stereotypical reasons ie s2 "people find out theyre grandparents every day"

-I LOVE THIS GEORGE HAIR

-"i'd do anything for nancy" okay but....why 👀bit of an odd reaction imo

-bess with spilling the truth again 😂and gets shot down. tragic #shetried

-wait sooooo nobody tested the fingerprints on the knife when this shit happened?? or that tech didnt exist in 2000? i mean without a body how could they even call it murder? and who told the police?? like if the drews took the baby, the dress, and said nothing, who tells the cops shes missing or even dead? how did they know to search the bluffs? who told the media/public? it had to have happened that same night because ryan said when he got there later there were already rumors she was killed. after the baby and bloody dress, only her crown, a knife, and tire tracks were left. how did anyone find anything at this remote bluff without some kind of tip off? and why on earth would they think murder and not suicide with so little evidence?? thats gotta be like suicide central, sorry for the trigger

-"a little help, lucy?!" lucy seems unable to disobey a direct request from nancy (ie "lucy, stop" from later in the ep) when nancy speaks directly to her. so maybe if nancy had spoken aloud/engaged more lucy could have appeared more? nancy said she only comes around when she wants to but what if nancy herself could do a bit more, being the last thing lucy touched and all

-so in ep 2 when nancys in jail carson says "great grandma rosalind buried her valuables in the trunk" including the knives shown here. did carson and kates families even know about nancy? how did they explain not announcing a pregnancy or birth?

-"oh." john lmfaoooo

-BESS lmaoooo and ace's looks in the background and then at seeing nick approaching lmfaooo oh no / also why on earth is she apologizing?? he dumped her but she has to be sorry he found out she fucked someone else? someone nicer pls explain to me bc i dont get it. she dont owe him shit

-george is SO CUTE lmfaoooo and so forward and he was so shook but then he was like "oh hell yeah"

-"is he a vampire?!" ik nobody i knew got that reference 😂

-this entire search of the claw is a sham. what are they even looking for. clearly a set up by tamura but why/what does he suspect them of. esp w karen as accomplice, story should be airtight so why are they still investigating?

-john + ace dream team 💙

-god ace is such a yes-man. why is he so fucking loyal?? people like him are insane. how are they real. i suspect they arent. and no matter what you do you are never worthy of their unending loyalty anyway.

-so in the Good Place nancy was the one who had the key but in reality its ryan

-wonder if lucy's listening to ryan here talking about his love and grief for her

-"you were throwing away your future on a nothing girl" - nancy & ryan - their fathers dont want them to see "troubled" kids, want them to focus on school instead --> which they both struggle with and eventually do not achieve (maybe bc they want their kids to leave horseshoe bay?) for nancy its an interesting vice for someone whos really a goody two shoes/for ryan its subverted bc karen actually did worse than him ie committed real crimes

-"stay away from my family" surprise bitch bet you thought youd seen the last of me 😉

-interestingly, ryan probably would have agreed with karen about switching the ballot boxes but he wouldnt have really understood the social consequences. both josh and karen are determined to see ryan as the bad guy when actually he didnt do anything, they did. 🤔

-karen is such a ride or die friend. again w the loyalty. if someone swapped ballot boxes for me i'd be touched. im sure going into active labor made lucy a bit upset but damn. what a friend.

-wonder when nancy starts calling her "Lucy" instead of "dead lucy"

-lucy primarily haunting her own house/love seeing this house overtaken by nature

-the concept of writing things down : starting from the first ep, nancy's journal (then and now), writing out simon cards, similar cemetary cards in the Good Place, "beautiful minding it," culminating in lucy's journal / writing it down to help figure it out/when theres too much going on to keep it inside

-"i'll make a salad" NICK LMAOOO

-wonder what happened to carson's old lawyer?

-"my testimony begins in the summer of 1999" because your story always starts with your mother's story

-lmfaoooooo this shit taking the stand is soooo never allowed but oh well

-"she stole a knife" and carson's face lmfaooooo he knows its not true but what could he fucking say?? no?

-"i love you mom, i hope you never find this." ironic bc nancy didnt want her dad to find her journal either

-lucy never wanted anyone to find out how she died d/t shame- but she didnt want carson to go to jail for it so she finally allowed it (or just couldnt refuse nancy asking)

-"i'm sorry for what you lost"/"i'm never gonna be free from them"

-awww ace/mcginnis goodbye / i wonder if ace is nervous thinking about tamura --> ace's dad since chief mcginnis covered for ace out of respect for his dads sacrifice but tamura would throw both ace and his dad under the bus just to get at nancy (get at her via ace? since he was already used as the blackmail plot device? they kinda touched in this in s2 but not fully)

-okay sooo why are they still doing this forensic analysis thing? like the whole things over so whats the point. i wonder if john had packed up and gone home what coulda happened

-nancy/carson - interrupted moments:

•family dinner interrupted by nancy's accsations

•being home after finding ted interrupted by carson's arrest

•celebration of dropped charges interrupted by nancy discovering the truth about her parentage

-"i cooked your favorite to celebrate" ironic bc shes upset that hes not her "real" dad but he IS because he knows her best. like theyre literally proving it right in front of her. vs ryan whom she doesnt really want anyway AND rejects requests to get to know her. like come on sis. his 20 years of parenting you arent going away, ever. deal w it.

-carson's little smile before he said "'mom never hurt lucy" like he knows this is the end / scott's acting here just kills me

~~~~~~~~~

-why did the drews come back at all? and why did kate really keep the dress? carson says she did it as a link to lucy, but did kate want to keep it to be connected to lucy? or did she bury it to keep lucy repressed? is this a positive or a negative? +keeping in attic - did lucy start to haunt kate, so she unburied the dress?

and lastly:

-why doesnt lucy haunt everett and celia hudson? she kind of does ie painting but only when nancy visits bc shes actually haunting nancy. isnt everything the hudsons' fault?

[raywritesthings]

Renewed Faith

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance Summary: Oliver’s a little more honest about how he feels when picking Laurel up at the hospital. 3x06 AU For @kasumikai *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Dealing with Ted Grant’s former protege had given him a lot to think about tonight. About Roy and the truth he’d been hiding from him. About Laurel and the help he had been refusing her. Both of them were struggling on their own as a result, going to other people. For all he had preached to Grant about losing faith in Stanzler, he was failing to show faith in his own friends.

He knew what to do about the former. Roy needed closure about what he had done while under the influence of the mirakuru. The latter, however, was proving as elusive to solve as always.

He never knew how to do right by Laurel. Like his father’s mission, it was a promise he had made on the island and failed to make a reality. He knew what she needed to hear: that he supported her decision to seek out training, that he knew she was dedicated enough and capable enough to take that kind of training on. But how did he say that all while knowing the thought of Laurel training, of getting in fights, of taking on whoever had mercilessly killed her sister left him waking up in a cold sweat night after night? He wasn’t sure he knew.

Oliver knocked lightly on the open door of the hospital room Laurel had been taken to after falling unconscious in the crash. She was already up and shrugging into her jacket as if nothing had happened, like it was just her average Wednesday. It basically was. Why had he thought he could ever protect her the way he wanted to?

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How you feeling?”

“Worst thing about sobriety is having to pass on the pain meds,” she answered bluntly, wincing a little as a sore muscle was likely pulled. Oliver himself passed on pain meds whenever he could, not liking feeling out of control, but he could admit that the knowledge they were available to him when he needed them was a comfort at times. To have to go without not as a choice but as a necessity was far different. She was stronger than he gave her credit for.

“Right. Thought maybe you could use a ride home,” he offered, taking a couple steps further into the room.

“And an ‘I told you so’?” She guessed.

He hung his head slightly. “I don’t think that I owe you one of those.” At her surprised look, he added, “When I said I wouldn’t train you, I was trying to protect you.” He nearly started to say something about Grant, something that would probably come out unfavorable, but he knew this wasn’t really about Grant. He’d be afraid no matter how clean-cut of a trainer Laurel found. “I just… I just need you to be safe.”

She looked at him, and there was something pitying in her gaze. “Ollie, you know I can’t promise you that. When’s the last time either of us have been safe for longer than a couple weeks at a time?”

He licked his lips. “I don’t know. And it scares me that I don’t know. But what scares me worse is knowing that you might be putting yourself in even more danger soon. I get it, I get why,” he continued just as she opened her mouth. “But I can’t change that it scares me. It’s how I feel about- about you. Because I care about you, Laurel. And I’m always going to.”

She stepped towards him, her hands clasping together. “Then help me to prepare. If you want me to be safer, the more I know, the better off I’ll be.” He shook his head on instinct, and she frowned. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“I know I can’t,” he said quickly, wanting to head off an argument. He hadn’t come here to argue, but like always he was screwing this up. “I just need you to understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” Laurel said, her tone of voice the courtroom kind where she was about to deliver an argument designed to completely knock out the defense. “You’re the one who is struggling to understand that I am not helpless—”

“I never said you were,” he said, his tone rising without his consent. Why did she always pull this out of him? He couldn’t control his emotions when it came to Laurel. “I don’t think you’re helpless. It’s just that losing you—”

“--and I can and will do what I—”

“You don’t know what it would do to me!”

Silence fell so suddenly he felt stunned by it himself, despite his own words being what caused it. Out in the hallway, some machinery faintly beeped, but Laurel never looked away from him, her eyes wide.

“I—” he swallowed, and his voice came out rough. “If you were gone. Laurel, I don’t want to even think about it, that’s how badly it scares me. I need you in my life.”

“I know. I’m here,” she said, her voice soft.

It wasn’t enough. He could feel the pull, the longing that was never quite sated in him for her as surely as he had when he’d first come home, or when he’d spent nights at a time staring at her picture. Oliver moved, hands rising to cup her face and push back her hair.

“Please,” was all he could manage. “Please.”

Her lips were so familiar to him that it didn’t require a testing brush to find the right fit. They melted, melded together in a way he had missed in every other kiss he had had, though he hadn’t known what he was looking for until now. He kissed her till he needed a deeper breath than just his nose allowed. Oliver took one gasp of breath and went in again, Laurel ready and meeting him with her own mouth.

Her hands clasped his arms, ran up his back and held his shoulders, trying to steady him as he swayed into her. Oliver didn’t know what happened when this ended, though, and a part of him didn’t want to be steady if that meant it did.

“You can’t,” Laurel said between one kiss and the next, and he nearly pulled away, worried he’d finally overstepped too far. But the next breath came and so did the rest of her sentence. “—keep doing this. You’re not even supposed to be in love with me any more.”

“I know,” he breathed, his eyes closed. He had tried to move on so many times. He had told himself he was in love with other women, and tried to make them believe it, too. That was wrong. “I can’t help that I do. I guess that makes me the helpless one.”

Laurel drew away enough that there was space between them to look at each other, and Oliver slowly opened his eyes. She was watching him, her look guarded. “Loving someone is having faith in them.”

His shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

“So do you?”

“I have faith in you, Laurel,” he replied. “I just don’t have faith in me. Every time I try, I fail.”

A little of her neutral expression cracked, just a lift of one side of her lips in a wry smile. “There’s a city out there that would say otherwise. Including me.” Her arms were still around him, and they rubbed up and down his back as she continued. “Look, let’s table this for now. We’re tired, it’s late, and someone is going to check on us if we don’t leave soon.”

He sighed and slowly lowered his own arms from where they’d wrapped around her waist. “Okay.”

Laurel grabbed her purse, then leaned in to peck his cheek. “I will still take that ride home, though.”

“I can do that.” Oliver offered his arm, which Laurel took, and together they left the hospital. He barely noticed the tiled floors or the sterile white walls; to him, he was walking through a daydream. Him and Laurel, again. He would have never imagined it possible.

Maybe he had been right in what he’d said to Grant after all. It just took faith.

[sweetsmalldog]

A Broken Hallelujah

Warnings: Blood, Religious themes and imagery, semi-graphic descriptions of injury

Description: Angels fall

I'd heard there was a secret chord

The deep snow surrounding him was scorched. It was all stained, stained with the golden blood of an angel.

That David played and it pleased the Lord

He knelt next to him. His wings burnt and tears in his eyes. Ted knew how painful the fall was. But he also knew it was nothing compared to the feelings of betrayal and abandonment. She had made them to protect humans after all, so why should one fall for protecting them.

But you don't really care for music, do you?

He took Paul’s hands, they were bleeding, burned, and raw, leaving both of their hands sparkling like metal. Paul’s clothing shredded and singed in the fall. His wings were horribly burned. White feathers had been coated in gold while others had snapped or been coated in ash. The heavenly gold mixing with the ashes of the fall on his once well groomed wings.

Well, it goes like this

Paul’s eyes meet his, “All I did-“

“I know,” Ted cut him off he knew saying it would hurt more, to vocalize your innocence.

The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift

Ted moved his soaked hands to help Paul sit. Burns and cuts littered his skin. The ash continued to fall around them like snow.

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Paul was deathly pale as his skin slowly lost its angelic glow. The moon shining threw his broken halo. Though nothing was more broken then the look in his eyes.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Ted cupped Paul’s crying face in his hands. The salty tears mixing with the glimmering gold. He cleaned his hand before wiping Paul’s tears away.

“They don’t deserve those,” Ted whispered.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Paul held Ted’s clean hand in his broken one. Paul was bruised, bleeding, and broken yet more holy then any left in Heaven.

Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof

“Why?” Paul asked, “Why are you here?”

Part of Ted wanted to tell him all of it. How he never stopped loving him. That Paul had always been his everything. Paul was his judge, not Hell, not Heaven, and not certainly not God.

You saw her bathing on the roof

Ted somehow managed to not look away from Paul in that moment. Eyes asking, hoping that’s asking a question wouldn’t hurt him for once.

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya

“I couldn’t leave you,” Now wasn’t the time. Paul was in so much pain. Telling him how deep Ted’s devotion ran wouldn’t help anything.

She tied you to the kitchen chair

Paul was silently begging him to give him a true answer. Give him the truth. Be the first person in Paul’s immortality to give him that.

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

Paul’s long hair had been scorched in the fall. Leaving it smoldering. It no longer framed his face. It made him look more vulnerable.

“Ted...” Paul murmured, it wasn’t even a request, it was a plead.

And from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah

“I just couldn’t leave you like this, ok?” Ted wasn’t going to cry, he couldn’t cry when Paul needed him.

He couldn’t tell him now. Not while Paul bled in the snow. Not so soon after his fall. Paul needed to heal.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Splinters of Paul’s halo lay in the snow, slowly melting it with the heat of its fractured grace. Making the snow glow pale blue as Paul’s faith leaked from its broken crown.

Well baby, I've been here before

Ted carefully took a large splinter from the snow and pressed in into Paul’s hands. Slowly the ruins of his devotion would heal him.

I've seen this room and I've walked this floor

Paul’s tears hadn’t dried. But they would. It would still hurt, being ripped from the bliss of ignorance and so brutally used as an example. Your purpose being ripped from you as everyone watches. But Paul would heal, slowly but surely.

I used to live alone before I knew ya

“Your not going to leave me?” Paul asks softly, scared of the answer, terrified of another violent reaction to an innocent question.

And I've seen your flag on the marble arch

“Never,” Ted assures, “As long as you want me beside you I’m here.”

And love is not a victory march

Suddenly Paul’s tears weren’t only born of pain. Relief washed over his face. His eyes shone brighter then the stars above them.

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Gently the snow began to fall again. Intent on covering the world once again in a blanket of white. A blanket to cover the horrors of Paul’s ordeal from prying eyes. To shield Heaven from the destruction and pain they cause once again.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Ted wished he could force Heaven to face what they’ve done. Make them look at the destruction they shield their eyes from. Make them experience the horror of your existence being stripped from you. Make them bleed in the snow.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Ted glanced down at Paul. He’s only wearing tattered rags. The once blinding white of his tunic stained grey with soot. He took off his jacket before lifting Paul into his arms.

Well, maybe there's a God above

Paul squeaked as he was lifted “Ted!”

Snow flakes were caught in his hair. Tear tracks stained his face. He was still bleeding and bruised. His wrists still mangled. He looked every bit the martyr he was. In Ted’s arms, wrapped in a wool coat to shield the rags underneath. He was more holy than anyone else above or below.

But all I've ever learned from love

Paul leaned his head against Ted’s chest. A silent declaration of trust. His eyes full of an emotion Ted couldn’t quite place.

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya

Ted held Paul close to his chest. He raises his wings to protect him from the elements. The winds were only getting stronger as Paul’s holy aura flickered.

“I’ve got you,” Ted says it like a prayer.

And it's not a cry that you hear at night

Paul tears returned as it all hit him. He would never see heaven again. They had cast him aside. For one innocent act he’d lost it all.

Ted didn’t say anything. He knew what it was like. That feeling of loss. When it hit you it was worse then the pain of falling.

It's not somebody who's seen the light

The snow crunches under his feet. The sparkling white feels like a mockery of what they’ve both lost.

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Paul’s blood dripped down his arms. The gold droplets landing in the snow. Breaking up the pristine white with the blood of the once holy.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Paul’s hand touched his cheek. The warm blood making him realize how cold his face is. He looked at Paul.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

He’s still crying. But that look Ted can’t place is still there. He didn’t know what it is but it warms his heart.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

“Thank you,” Paul’s smile was sad and tender. Still with that feeling Ted couldn’t place.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Then it hit him. His heart skipped a beat. A blush spread over his cheeks. How?

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Their lips met. The wind howled. And for a moment the world melted away.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Taglist: @robertstanion @gone-to-oregone @haniawritesthings @eboy-butch @agent-megagirl @purplegori @showstoppingnumbrr @imtooaromanticforthis @gayrudeboys @thatweriddoodlingllama @bi-gstupid @supreme-overlord-bubbles @meredithandlaurenaremyqueens @semoka @renegadepear @are-those-real-gators @ready-to-mcfucking-die

[sebthesnipe]

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

First // Previously // Next

My Dearest Procyon

Masterpost

MDP Discord Server

Chapter 30

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

TW: Mentions of blood

Logan drew on Patton stretching and weaving his magic a bit clumsily. It was nothing like the magical energy he had shared with Virgil, or even the force siphoned from Noname. Patton’s magic was far stronger. 

Logan could feel the force of it burning inside him almost painfully. Sweat beaded his brow at the strange sensation, his finger dragging across Virgil’s palm. A shimmering gold light marked the tight lines he drew as he continued to weave the ropes around them.

“Logan,” Virgil sighed watching him work. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Virgil asked with an arched brow. The smaller witch could feel the waves of power coming from the man’s work. 

“Yes, well,” Logan sighed, gaze narrowing in concentration. “It seems that this new power will take some time to grow accustomed to. I am more acclimated to a trickle rather than the flood I’m currently attempting to control, Virgil.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Virgil snapped. He was a bit testy, all things considered. He didn’t feel well, had very little magic, and Logan was just tossing this immense force around like it was nothing. Then again, judging by how much power they assumed Patton had, Virgil supposed it was something more than he, or even Logan, had anticipated. 

“Right… Sorry,” Logan mumbled, keeping his gaze glued to the work at hand. His guilt washed through the connection with Patton, making the dragon frown slightly. 

“Don’t worry, Logan,” Patton reassured, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm. “You’ll get the hang of it.” He was well aware that the words wouldn’t really help, but offered them regardless. 

Logan shot him another glance, giving a small smile. Patton could feel the warmth coming from the lanky witch at his words. They might not have helped reassure the man, but they certainly caused a pleasant reaction. That was enough for Patton. 

Logan turned back to his work, finishing drawing the sigil carefully into Virgil’s palm as Patton’s hand dropped away. Virgil’s own gaze was glued to the man’s work as Logan double checked each weave before finally glancing up.

“Are you ready?” he asked the smaller witch.

Virgil hesitated, trying not to get his hopes up. The bonding hadn’t worked with Patton. Why should it work with Logan? What if it didn’t have anything to do with them? What if he was the one that was broken? After everything, after Noname, Logan, Roman. What if he was just too used and damaged to be worth bonding with anyone? 

He hoped that wasn’t the case. 

He gave a small nod. Whatever the case may be, he had to try. He had to save Roman. 

Logan’s honey gaze met purple as he and Virgil stared at one another, beginning to recite the words in unison. 

“Élidaumet andam. Pesäemet andam. Uskolfeartiilamet andam. Sívamet kuuluuko kaike että a ted.”

The two witches paused, waiting to feel the pain that came with the bond, as it had before, but nothing came. 

Patton could feel the tension in Logan rise as the witch tried to determine what he had done wrong. 

“Perhaps, we should try again?” Logan offered. 

“Right, yeah. Maybe we did something wrong,” Virgil nodded, knowing that wasn’t the case. He needed it to be the truth though. He needed to have done something wrong, otherwise- 

Otherwise he wasn’t worth trying to save. 

“Élidaumet andam. Pesäemet andam. Uskolfeartiilamet andam. Sívamet kuuluuko kaike että a ted.”

A moment of silence… Another… 

“Nothing,” Logan sighed, casting his eyes downwards as he unraveled his weaves of magic. 

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Virgil huffed, pulling his hand away and holding it close to his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but only managing to cause another coughing fit. 

“Don’t worry Virgil! We’ll figure something out!” Patton offered with a smile, reaching out for the witch. 

Logan could feel Patton’s disbelief in his reassurance. It was a distracting feeling, though it certainly had its benefits. For once in Patton’s life, he didn’t have to feel completely alone. 

“Yes, Patton is right,” Logan reassured. “We’ll find a way to rescue Roman and then perhaps you will be able to bond with him.”

“Ha!” Virgil barked sarcastically. “That’s if we manage to rescue him and if he would be willing to bond with me and if I can even bond with someone again! Let’s face it, Lo, the fact that I couldn’t bond with you makes it a pretty damn good chance I won’t be able to bond with anyone!” The smaller witch glanced at Patton to gauge his reaction at his choice of words, but couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. “Besides, for all we know, bonding with Roman could lead to the same situation you and I were in, only worse! Roman is human with no magical powers! I’d literally be feeding off his soul! I couldn’t do that to him!”

Logan and Patton shared a look, obviously uncomfortable. 

However, Logan’s resolve was too much. Patton could feel he wouldn’t be able to convince the man to hide the truth from Virgil. After everything the two witches had gone through, he wouldn’t be willing to ask it of him either. Patton gave a consensual nod, causing the tension in Logan’s shoulders to ease. 

“Actually, Virgil. That isn’t entirely true,” Logan began, moving to stand…

………………………………………………

Roman let his eyes fall shut. His eyelids felt like sandpaper against them. The stinging pain caused liquid to escape down his cheeks, but he wasn’t sure if it was water or blood. How long had he been hanging there? How long had he been awake in this endless darkness? A day? Two? A week?

He couldn’t tell.

Did time pass differently in the baku’s den? Would he ever be allowed to sleep? To see Virgil again? 

Surely he wouldn’t die here, strung up like some cow being drained for the butcher. Roman was a prince! He deserved a more glamorous death. Though, at the moment he wasn’t too picky…

……………………………………………………..

“Roman?!!!” Virgil yelled at the top of his lungs as he walked through  endless white halls. “Roman?!!!” he called again desperately. 

He wasn’t sure how much time he had before he woke again or before his body gave out.

He was getting closer. He could sense Roman’s dream pattern. Everyone had one, a fingerprint in the dream world, something so uniquely them. The witch was a bit surprised when he had first sensed it. It was an odd time of day to be sleeping, but there was no telling what had happened to the prince in the time that they had been separated. 

Virgil paused in consideration. He supposed he shouldn’t call Roman a prince any longer. From what Logan had told him, Roman wasn’t one. Roman had never been one. It was all so twisted and confusing and none of it really mattered. Roman was Roman and that was good enough for Virgil. 

“Rom-” Virgil called once more, cutting himself off. He felt water on his cheek, causing him to glance up. Another drop fell, landing on his forehead. Another on his chin. The nonexistent sky opened, drenching Virgil in an instant.  

He held a hand out, feeling the harsh warm water patter against his skin. Roman rarely dreamed of rain. Most of his dreams were filled with memories, horrible memories. Virgil often visited him, destroying and reconstructing his dreams to help him rest a bit easier. He would pull in jellyfish, giant eels, whales, flowers… all the things Roman seemed so intrigued by… but not rain. Especially, this dark thundering rain that raged around him now. A familiar kind of rain.

Virgil breathed deeply, the scent of lavender filling his nose. 

“Remy,” he sighed softly, dread filling him. 

“Well, that didn’t take you as long as I expected,” the sassy voice came, causing Virgil to spin. “Long time, no see, Doll,” they grinned, flashing their pointed teeth. 

Remy stood a good foot and a half taller than the oneiromancer, towering over him suddenly. The thin flowing black cloth that wrapped around their body, tied at the waist, covered the majority of their too pale skin. Their flowing black shadow like hair shifted and twitched as they peered down at the smaller man. 

“As happy as I am to see you, Remy,” Virgil sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be like this.” 

“How’d you know it was me?” Remy asked curiously. 

“The rain and lavender were a bit of a give away,” Virgil admitted with a small smile.

“Bitch, you know rain is my jam,” they chuckled, giving a snap of their fingers, causing a set of chairs to materialize.  

Virgil gave a nod, moving to sink down into the chair that was obviously meant for him.  He waved a hand to will away the storm. This dream may have originated from Roman, but it was no longer his. Regardless, the witch hoped the act would bring the man some small comfort.

“You have him, don’t you? This was supposed to be his dream,” Virgil asked, smile fading as he watched Remy move to sit in their own chair. 

“You mean, Mr. Too-toned?” they teased lightly, “He is a snacc, isn’t he?!” they giggled.

“Remy…” Virgil huffed, obviously not in a playful mood. 

“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” the baku grumbled. “Yes, I have him.”

“Is he alright?! Is he hurt?!” Virgil rushed, tensing at the news. 

“Guurl, take it down a few notches before you blow that cute little head of yours,” Remy huffed, giving another wave. A table appeared between them, already set with an elegant kettle and two cups of steaming dark liquid. Remy reached for their cup and sipped it slowly. “He’s alive, though a bit beat up. Nothing too serious from what I could tell. A few cracked ribs, a broken bone here or there. It looks like Lord Noname had some fun before sending me his scraps.”

The news didn’t make Virgil feel any better. 

“But he is alive?” the witch asked.

“For now, yes,” Remy nodded, taking another sip.

“Does Noname want you to kill him?” Virgil asked, his anxiety only rising at the possibility.

“No,” Remy answered simply, watching the tension fall off the man in waves. “Whatever the boss wants, Prince Charming ain’t giving up anytime soon. He wouldn’t have sent him to me otherwise. I’ve got orders to keep him alive, Puppet,” Remy warned, causing Virgil to meet their gaze worryingly. “I don’t get those orders unless it’s something big, something he’s willing to get at all costs.”

Virgil nodded slowly, finally moving to accept the cup in front of him. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Remy,” he sighed. “We’re on our way there, but by the time we get there-”

“He could be dead or insane,” Remy nodded, “It is a very real possibility, Puppet.” 

“If that happens, if I can’t make it-” Virgil paused, taking a long drink before focusing on his breathing. “Remy, he won’t be the only one that dies.”

“Guurl,” Remy chuckled, “I’ll admit what you’ve accomplished is impressive,  severing your ties with the bossman, running away, staying hidden, but I doubt you’re strong enough to kill h-”

“Remy, I’m dying.” Virgil interrupted, causing the baku’s breath to hitch. 

There was a moment of silence as Remy tried to process the new information.

“Don’t be so over dramatic,” Remy chuckled nervously. “Just because you don’t have your prince doesn’t mean-”

“He’s not a prince, Remy, and I’m not being dramatic. Roman is my last chance. If I can’t get to him, we're both dead…”

To be continued...

Taglist:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

[blueeyedslytherin]

@thestrongestmagic

     This was an absolutely ridiculous idea, that was the only way she could think of it. This was a ridiculous, foolish and stupid idea. What did she expect would come from this? After all these years apart, what did she think going and visiting her sister would bring her? Peace of mind? It wouldn’t bring Bellatrix back, it wouldn’t bring back the 30 years that they had lost with each other, it wouldn’t bring back their cousins or their parents or Ted. What could she possibly think would come of this other than humiliation? She wasn’t quite sure, which was unnerving considering Narcissa was usually very sure of everything. 

     Right down to the very last minute detail, Narcissa Malfoy always knew exactly what she wanted and exactly what she was going to do. Every little minuscule thing about life from the way her hair was styled to the color of the walls in her house had a reason and a rhyme, everything about her life had purpose and belonging. So where did this moment belong? What was the purpose? Not knowing the answers to those questions, walking into a situation is so complicated and volatile without a plan or a back up plan to the original plan, was quite possibly the worst and most terrifying thing that she could possibly do.

     But no amount of not knowing, no lack of reasons, was enough. None of that was enough to talk her out of what she was still going to do anyway, because Narcissa Malfoy was an extremely stubborn woman and once she put her mind to something and decided that she wanted something or was going to do something she was going to make it happen, no matter the cost. And what she had decided she wanted was to go and see Andromeda, maybe it was because she wanted to apologize for the death of her husband or because she was lonely, maybe it was because she wanted to see if her sister truly missed her or if her sister’s child look anything like her own son. There were so many questions and curiosities that she had never admit it out loud, not to anyone, And perhaps this day was how she would get those answers.

      And that was how she had ended up here, standing outside of a house she had never seen before but that she had found through the connections she still had even after the end of the war. It was a nice looking house, much smaller than her own or the home they had grown up in together. But it was nice, it was simple. She didn’t know what she had expected, whenever she imagined her sister’s life she didn’t really know how to picture it. Sometimes she pictured a home that was a carbon copy of their own but with brighter colors, other time she had pictured a hovel because what could Ted have offered her financially that they could not? But she knew well enough, especially now that she was grown, that Andromeda had not left because of what could be offered to her financially or a sort of security they couldn’t understand. She had left for love, for love that she never would’ve been offered if she had married someone she had not chosen herself. When she was a young girl of only 15 she couldn’t understand or comprehend that kind of desire, knowing only unyielding loyalty to her family name and to Bellatrix, knowing only that it was her duty to marry who she was told. But now that she had married someone that she could not love, had loved and lost a man that many called a traitor and others called a war hero, she knew that she would’ve run away from every last piece of it to be with him, as long as it meant she could keep her son. 

     She felt like her son was the only person she had left in this world, now that Bellatrix and Severus were gone. Perhaps she was looking for Andromeda to fill that hole inside of her, perhaps that was why she was here. She didn’t think Andromeda could ever replace Bellatrix, no one could. Bellatrix was the other half of her soul, her better half if not her darker half, she was the other piece of her. And she never wanted her to replace Severus because she knew no one could, no one could replace that friendship or that forbidden love that they had shared, even until his very last moments. But perhaps she wanted someone to fill that empty place in her heart where they have both lived, that place that even though she loved her son he could not fill it. She was lonely, and perhaps more than anything, she was seeking family.

     Narcissa took a deep breath and ran her hands down the front of her dress to smooth out any wrinkles that could’ve been there, but she knew damn well there weren’t any there. If Narcissa was anything it was a perfectionist, down to the very last hair on her head and the littlest detail. Some called her anal and most of them teased her, but she knew that without a doubt everything in her life was absolutely perfect, at least aesthetically, everything looked perfect; even if everything was actually a mess. 

     She took a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill her lungs and then come back out slowly, closing her eyes for a moment as she pulled strength from the ground beneath her feet and called upon someone or anyone to guide her through what she knew would be a trying experience. She didn’t know who she was praying to, she didn’t think she had ever believed in God. Perhaps she was praying Bellatrix, but she knew that Bella would highly disapprove of this. No, she was thinking of Severus. If reconnecting with Andromeda made her happy he would’ve encouraged it, he would’ve encouraged most anything if it made her happy as long as she was safe. She knew that was true, beyond all things she knew that was true.

     “I know, I know,“ she said out loud to herself, though it was not her she spoke to. “Stop fidgeting, she won’t notice the wrinkles in my dress, she’ll simply notice that I’m there at all,“ she said, knowing exactly what he would say if he was standing there beside her. She felt a burning behind her eyes before pushing the thought away, ignoring the feeling but acknowledging it all the same. She walked up the cobblestone path to the front door, curling her hand into a fist until her sharp nails had dug into her palm but not enough to draw blood. She could still turn back, she knew that she could. But again she drew on the strength that her former lover would’ve given her if he was there, he would tell her she had been through so much worse than this and that he believed in her, and she would believe him because he was the one that said it. So after taking a final deep breath she raised her hand into the air and knocked on the door, the pattern even and rhythmic. If she were lucky, maybe Andromeda wouldn’t even be home?

[its-my-little-dumpster-fire]

Let It Burn ( e l e v e n )

Billy Russo x Reader, 2.7k

When boundaries are crossed, new ones are established.

Bad idea, you repeated to yourself as you walked deeper into the fray, stationing yourself behind Billy, leaving another couple and an empty stool between you. He turned slightly, feeling the presence of someone pass behind him that he hadn’t noticed before and you hoped his hyper vigilance wouldn’t screw you over this time. When his attention was drawn back to the woman next to him, you let out a the shallowest breath of relief, experiencing only the shallowest sense of relief as you sunk into the stool closest to the wall, tugging your sleeves down to cover the mark under your arm. You’d never felt ashamed of it, especially not in this place, where you and Billy could simply be without the pressures he carried or the jealous looks he drew, but tonight that was all ruined.

…

“This is where you bring a girl to impress her?” Her slightly accented voice, smooth, caramel skin, curly brown hair that barely caressed her bare shoulders, she was fine, but you’d seen Billy do much better. This was no comfort to you and somehow made the whole scene worse. You hadn’t thought about him with another woman in some time, but anytime it occurred to you, the imaginary being was peak femininity, flawless, and excitable. Billy’s obsession with being and having the best seemed to keep you out of the running, but this woman…she toed the line between flirtation and disinterest surprisingly well, but you could see her want all over her face, she was plainer than you imagined someone with Billy could get away with, and if you were being completely honest, you thought you might be able to take her. In looks, in devotion, possibly in hand to hand combat with some of Billy’s well meaning instruction tucked away in the back of your mind. You saw it but you didn’t want to believe it.

“This is where I bring a girl when she’s gonna see through all that.”

His voice though, was unmistakable. The tone… there was a time when you wouldn’t have recognized it, but now, with the way things had been going you were very familiar with the way Billy’s voice smoothed our when his face was turned up into a smile. He was flirting. With…her. At your bar. Yours and Billy’s.

This wasn’t a new concept, but perhaps you were out of practice, having spent more time with Billy one on one than witnessing him walk out with someone else. Your past experiences did nothing to soothe the churning in your gut. That was still your bar. He’d never told you explicitly so, but over the course of a few months you’d convinced yourself that Billy didn’t bring everyone here. It, like his apartment, like whatever soul he possessed, was a place reserved for you. Apparently not.

You locked eyes briefly with Sam behind the bar. If it were a small town or a sitcom or Sam was actually Ted Danson, he might have done something after his eyes fell curiously on Billy and the new brunette. But it wasn’t. It was New York City and Sam’s only business was pouring drinks and minding his own which is exactly he did, sliding two more shots to Billy as he was flagged down. There was nothing sympathetic in Sam’s tone as he met you at the end of the bar and for the hundredth time since meeting your soulmate, you felt completely alone.

Sam wasn’t going to defend you or intervene on your behalf, so you shook your head, not daring to speak around the frustratingly observant Billy Russo, and stood to leave. They were throwing back a couple more shots, adding empty glasses to the ones already in front of them and more straight liquor than you’d seen Billy consume. At least with you. Maybe that’s how he was with the others, looser, freer, getting them talking before shutting them up with his smile. You turned back at the door, just in time to see Billy lean back, the tilt of his dark head making his appraisal obvious as he twirled the green bottle between his fingers with just the flick of his wrist. He was the embodiment of effortless and you decided in that moment that your efforts were better spent somewhere else.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You called a friend from work, finally accepting the offer she’d been badgering you about for weeks. Bea was struggling to sell her mother in law’s home as the old bat took over her husband’s den, turning it into the perfect cave where she could await death while expect Bea to cater to the old woman’s every need. It’s all you’d heard about this month and the kind but tired nurse asked you almost everyday if you’d be the one to just take it off her hands. With the money you were making at the hospital, thanks to Billy’s mysterious connection, and the money you were saving by living in his spare room, the only thing that had slowed your search for a new place was Billy himself.

Ridiculous, you muttered to yourself, stuffing the contents of your bookshelf into a large suitcase. The bulk of your belongings were in Billy’s storage locker, gathering dust in the basement of his building, so the physical packing of what you kept with you took less time than you’d expected. Bea’s excited shrieking was still ringing in your ears by the time you looked around the room. Aside from your work clothes and your sheets, you were done and the reality of your rushed departure hit you like a ton of bricks. Why? Why ruin a good thing? You asked of yourself.

Because it isn’t a good thing. You thought about the woman at the bar and you couldn’t blame her no matter how desperately you wanted to believe it. She wasn’t pulling Billy from you. She wasn’t using him or manipulating him. She was a woman in a bar and you had no right to be upset.

But you were. Would she have sat with Billy for hours, watching Frank Castle on trial as “the Punisher,” while the crimes of his best friend were splashed across every news station? Would she have stayed again when he escaped from prison or when his death was announced, holding his hand, arm, head, whatever he offered, long into the night while Billy insisted Frank was still alive? You paced around the apartment, looking at all the little reminders of a relationship that wasn’t real. Not outside of your head, at least.

You froze, catching the reflection of a woman in one of the large windows. She looked like you, same eyes and hair, same fucking mark in display with her elbows high while tugging on her own hair. She wore your clothes, stood in your shoes, but this woman looked weak, like the disappointment had finally broken her down. And you hated her. For falling for the divine ruse, the promise of love gifted to you in the form of a man who didn’t know what the word meant. Without you, he likely never would, but that ceased to be a concern of yours. You were tired and there was a woman across town with a key and a deed to a house that Billy Russo would never be caught dead in. It was perfect. Because of him, you could afford it and because of him, you intended to collect.

That night you fell asleep with headache, waking up once to annoying metallic clicking coming from the living room. You shut your eyes and willed yourself back to sleep, no intention to speak to Billy about his evening. The next days passed quickly, you worked and tried not to think about the fact that Billy wasn’t checking on you like he had before. You met with Bea and a loan officer at your future kitchen table, taking some of your things with you before the deal had even been signed. You went home…not home, you returned to Billy’s apartment to find his go bag had disappeared again, but when worry tried to worm its way into your mind, you pushed it out again. He might have been your soulmate, but he was someone else’s worry about and your concern wouldn’t bring him back safely. Whatever he was doing. Eventually his go bag returned, but you’d yet to see the man who carried it and as your possessions were moved in to the house across the river, you started to wonder if Billy would even show his face before you left your key and the counter and saw yourself out for the last time. Two nights in a row, you packed and slept and didn’t hear Billy’s nighttime ritual, didn’t hear him coming home until the morning for a shower before heading to Anvil’s corporate office again, during which time you did not speak, wanting him to knock on your door, peek his head in, apologize for being so busy for now going more than a week without speaking to or seeing you. He didn’t. Naturally. And with each passing day, your decision became easier to swallow. You were finally doing the right thing for yourself and Billy wouldn’t ruin that for you. Not anymore.

Your last night in Billy’s apartment, you were zipping up your last bag while nursing a strong beverage when the front door closed and your eyes flew to your bedroom door. After a few steps, you heard shoes being dropped on the floor and evidence of Billy’s presence disappeared into the night. Even when he thought he was alone, his movements were quiet and you waited for him to appear in your doorway like he had just over a week ago, vulnerable, wanting to talk to you or maybe using conversation as the cover to be close to you. It didn’t matter anymore. You took a deep breath, drained your glass, and hooked the straps over your shoulder, stepping out of your now empty room.

Billy was standing wordlessly at the kitchen counter, a thick black laptop propped open with a familiar face on the screen.

“Do you run background checks on all your dates?” You asked, stepping closer until you could see the header above the photo. Homeland Security, huh? Not your usual go to, Russo. Billy turned to face you, face already turned up as if he were going to say something, but you beat him to it. “Or just the ones with a higher security clearance than you?”

The excitement in Billy’s eyes when he saw you made your heart skip, but the grin on his lips and the light in his eyes died immediately when they fell from your face to your side, where a small bag hung. “Goin’ somewhere?” He asked casually, turning back to close his laptop before leaning back against the counter with his hands gripping the edge. Again the casual stance he forced himself to take fell apart when looked at you. He pulled away from the steel counter and his hands fell helplessly to his sides. He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face, eyes wide and lips parted, as he raised an accusatory finger and gestured to the set of keys in your hand. “What the hell is this?”

You took another breath and stepped up to Billy, silently begging him not to make this harder than it already was. I’m sorry. The keys clanged mercilessly against the counter next to Billy, where you dropped them on your way through the kitchen, setting your bag on the ground so you could rinse out your glass. “I found a place,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. It was such a good idea before, but now, watching whatever small spark you used to see in those black eyes be snuffed out by your words, it seemed an impossible task. This is right. I can’t stay here anymore. Billy was silent behind you, but you caught his reflection, his glare directed at the back of your head, in the glass cupboard door.

“Were you going to tell me?” He finally asked.

“I’m telling you now,” you said calmly, drying the glass and then your hands on a towel. No longer able to stall with the chore, you turned to face him. Oh, Billy. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but you were God knows where,” good. Stay angry. It’s easier.

“I’ve been back from-“ Billy stopped himself and rolled his neck before looking at you again. “I’ve been back.”

“You haven’t been here…” you reminded him, leaning against the opposite counter, thankful for the island between you. It couldn’t have been more than a couple feet wide, but it was growing with every second. The divide between you growing and would continue to do so until he was no long in your sights. “Two nights in a row,” you scoffed and Billy’s scowl was so deep, you weren’t sure it was even for you. Thinking of her? Glad you were with her instead of with me? If you had been…maybe I could stay. The inaudible snarl tugged Billy’s upper lip until he sniffed and looked away, gathering his thoughts or maybe reminding himself that you were nothing to him.

“So that’s it?” He asked, unrecognizable cruelty dripping from his tongue. You’d heard it before, when Billy was on the phone or when he stepped out of his office so you couldn’t hear or when he talked about Arthur, he couldn’t hide the blood lust in his eyes, but admittedly you’d spent more than one night thinking about how much better the world would be without him. This was the first time it had been directed at you, however. “You’re just done?” He asked and you wanted to answer, but his laughter cut you off. “It’s fine. Playing house was getting pretty old anyways.” Bastard.

“You offered me a place…temporarily. I think I overstayed my welcome, don’t you?” Billy swallowed and mouthed a yeah, coughing to conceal another humorless chuckle, but he didn’t say anything out-loud. You closed the gap between you and the island, planting your hands on the steel counter to mimic Billy’s stance. “Thank you, Billy,” you said, suddenly finding it so much more painful to be looking up in his dark eyes. His look was strained and it seemed like he wanted to say something else, until his jaw clenched shut and his nostrils flared, same glare returning. You rolled your eyes and backed away, taking up your bag as you moved toward the door.

In a flash, Billy had you by the arm, pinned back against the door, looming over you with the fire in his eyes returning. You weren’t convinced you could take a breath without it shaking and giving away your nervousness, the uneasiness of having his face so close to yours. Your eyes flew back and forth between his, falling briefly to his lips. A kiss wouldn’t make this all worth it, but it might render you immobile. You couldn’t think like that, not now, not when you were so close to what you wanted, as if the man memorizing the lines of your face with an intensity that took your breath away wasn’t what you wanted more than anything. No. Not now. He can’t.

Billy licked his lips and leaned in, his breath warm against the skin of your face as he spoke directly into your ear. “I know you only stayed because of this…” he squeezed your arm for emphasis, thumb digging into your flesh, right at the eye of the black cyclone that was a perfect match for his own. “This dumb fucking mark.” Your breath hitched and you squeezed your eyes shut. Of course. Even after all this time. He didn’t believe you cared. He couldn’t and as badly as you wanted to hold him and tell him he was wrong, again, you simply couldn’t. He wouldn’t believe it even if you did. Billy exhaled quickly and his breath stung the side of your face as he leaned toward you again, twisting the door knob and pulling it open for you before stepping away.

“If I thought for a second you wanted me to stay, I would,” you assured him and he shook his head, looking everywhere but at you. “I-“ you started and suddenly his eyes were on yours, as if you knew what you were going to say. No. Not now. He wouldn’t… “I know you don’t care about your safety, Billy, but I do.” With a cleared throat and a tight nod, you spun toward the now open door.

[my-little-dumpster-fire]

Let it Burn. 11/?

Catch Up Here.

Bad idea, you repeated to yourself as you walked deeper into the fray, stationing yourself behind Billy, leaving another couple and an empty stool between you. He turned slightly, feeling the presence of someone pass behind him that he hadn’t noticed before and you hoped his hyper vigilance wouldn’t screw you over this time. When his attention was drawn back to the woman next to him, you let out a the shallowest breath of relief, experiencing only the shallowest sense of relief as you sunk into the stool closest to the wall, tugging your sleeves down to cover the mark under your arm. You’d never felt ashamed of it, especially not in this place, where you and Billy could simply be without the pressures he carried or the jealous looks he drew, but tonight that was all ruined.

...

“This is where you bring a girl to impress her?” Her slightly accented voice, smooth, caramel skin, curly brown hair that barely caressed her bare shoulders, she was fine, but you’d seen Billy do much better. This was no comfort to you and somehow made the whole scene worse. You hadn’t thought about him with another woman in some time, but anytime it occurred to you, the imaginary being was peak femininity, flawless, and excitable. Billy’s obsession with being and having the best seemed to keep you out of the running, but this woman...she toed the line between flirtation and disinterest surprisingly well, but you could see her want all over her face, she was plainer than you imagined someone with Billy could get away with, and if you were being completely honest, you thought you might be able to take her. In looks, in devotion, possibly in hand to hand combat with some of Billy’s well meaning instruction tucked away in the back of your mind. You saw it but you didn’t want to believe it.

“This is where I bring a girl when she’s gonna see through all that.”

His voice though, was unmistakable. The tone... there was a time when you wouldn’t have recognized it, but now, with the way things had been going you were very familiar with the way Billy’s voice smoothed our when his face was turned up into a smile. He was flirting. With...her. At your bar. Yours and Billy’s.

This wasn’t a new concept, but perhaps you were out of practice, having spent more time with Billy one on one than witnessing him walk out with someone else. Your past experiences did nothing to soothe the churning in your gut. That was still your bar. He’d never told you explicitly so, but over the course of a few months you’d convinced yourself that Billy didn’t bring everyone here. It, like his apartment, like whatever soul he possessed, was a place reserved for you. Apparently not.

You locked eyes briefly with Sam behind the bar. If it were a small town or a sitcom or Sam was actually Ted Danson, he might have done something after his eyes fell curiously on Billy and the new brunette. But it wasn’t. It was New York City and Sam’s only business was pouring drinks and minding his own which is exactly he did, sliding two more shots to Billy as he was flagged down. There was nothing sympathetic in Sam’s tone as he met you at the end of the bar and for the hundredth time since meeting your soulmate, you felt completely alone.

Sam wasn’t going to defend you or intervene on your behalf, so you shook your head, not daring to speak around the frustratingly observant Billy Russo, and stood to leave. They were throwing back a couple more shots, adding empty glasses to the ones already in front of them and more straight liquor than you’d seen Billy consume. At least with you. Maybe that’s how he was with the others, looser, freer, getting them talking before shutting them up with his smile. You turned back at the door, just in time to see Billy lean back, the tilt of his dark head making his appraisal obvious as he twirled the green bottle between his fingers with just the flick of his wrist. He was the embodiment of effortless and you decided in that moment that your efforts were better spent somewhere else.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You called a friend from work, finally accepting the offer she’d been badgering you about for weeks. Bea was struggling to sell her mother in law’s home as the old bat took over her husband’s den, turning it into the perfect cave where she could await death while expect Bea to cater to the old woman’s every need. It’s all you’d heard about this month and the kind but tired nurse asked you almost everyday if you’d be the one to just take it off her hands. With the money you were making at the hospital, thanks to Billy’s mysterious connection, and the money you were saving by living in his spare room, the only thing that had slowed your search for a new place was Billy himself.

Ridiculous, you muttered to yourself, stuffing the contents of your bookshelf into a large suitcase. The bulk of your belongings were in Billy’s storage locker, gathering dust in the basement of his building, so the physical packing of what you kept with you took less time than you’d expected. Bea’s excited shrieking was still ringing in your ears by the time you looked around the room. Aside from your work clothes and your sheets, you were done and the reality of your rushed departure hit you like a ton of bricks. Why? Why ruin a good thing? You asked of yourself.

Because it isn’t a good thing. You thought about the woman at the bar and you couldn’t blame her no matter how desperately you wanted to believe it. She wasn’t pulling Billy from you. She wasn’t using him or manipulating him. She was a woman in a bar and you had no right to be upset.

But you were. Would she have sat with Billy for hours, watching Frank Castle on trial as “the Punisher,” while the crimes of his best friend were splashed across every news station? Would she have stayed again when he escaped from prison or when his death was announced, holding his hand, arm, head, whatever he offered, long into the night while Billy insisted Frank was still alive? You paced around the apartment, looking at all the little reminders of a relationship that wasn’t real. Not outside of your head, at least.

You froze, catching the reflection of a woman in one of the large windows. She looked like you, same eyes and hair, same fucking mark in display with her elbows high while tugging on her own hair. She wore your clothes, stood in your shoes, but this woman looked weak, like the disappointment had finally broken her down. And you hated her. For falling for the divine ruse, the promise of love gifted to you in the form of a man who didn’t know what the word meant. Without you, he likely never would, but that ceased to be a concern of yours. You were tired and there was a woman across town with a key and a deed to a house that Billy Russo would never be caught dead in. It was perfect. Because of him, you could afford it and because of him, you intended to collect.

That night you fell asleep with headache, waking up once to annoying metallic clicking coming from the living room. You shut your eyes and willed yourself back to sleep, no intention to speak to Billy about his evening. The next days passed quickly, you worked and tried not to think about the fact that Billy wasn’t checking on you like he had before. You met with Bea and a loan officer at your future kitchen table, taking some of your things with you before the deal had even been signed. You went home...not home, you returned to Billy’s apartment to find his go bag had disappeared again, but when worry tried to worm its way into your mind, you pushed it out again. He might have been your soulmate, but he was someone else’s worry about and your concern wouldn’t bring him back safely. Whatever he was doing. Eventually his go bag returned, but you’d yet to see the man who carried it and as your possessions were moved in to the house across the river, you started to wonder if Billy would even show his face before you left your key and the counter and saw yourself out for the last time. Two nights in a row, you packed and slept and didn’t hear Billy’s nighttime ritual, didn’t hear him coming home until the morning for a shower before heading to Anvil’s corporate office again, during which time you did not speak, wanting him to knock on your door, peek his head in, apologize for being so busy for now going more than a week without speaking to or seeing you. He didn’t. Naturally. And with each passing day, your decision became easier to swallow. You were finally doing the right thing for yourself and Billy wouldn’t ruin that for you. Not anymore.

Your last night in Billy’s apartment, you were zipping up your last bag while nursing a strong beverage when the front door closed and your eyes flew to your bedroom door. After a few steps, you heard shoes being dropped on the floor and evidence of Billy’s presence disappeared into the night. Even when he thought he was alone, his movements were quiet and you waited for him to appear in your doorway like he had just over a week ago, vulnerable, wanting to talk to you or maybe using conversation as the cover to be close to you. It didn’t matter anymore. You took a deep breath, drained your glass, and hooked the straps over your shoulder, stepping out of your now empty room.

Billy was standing wordlessly at the kitchen counter, a thick black laptop propped open with a familiar face on the screen.

“Do you run background checks on all your dates?” You asked, stepping closer until you could see the header above the photo. Homeland Security, huh? Not your usual go to, Russo. Billy turned to face you, face already turned up as if he were going to say something, but you beat him to it. “Or just the ones with a higher security clearance than you?”

The excitement in Billy’s eyes when he saw you made your heart skip, but the grin on his lips and the light in his eyes died immediately when they fell from your face to your side, where a small bag hung. “Goin’ somewhere?” He asked casually, turning back to close his laptop before leaning back against the counter with his hands gripping the edge. Again the casual stance he forced himself to take fell apart when looked at you. He pulled away from the steel counter and his hands fell helplessly to his sides. He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face, eyes wide and lips parted, as he raised an accusatory finger and gestured to the set of keys in your hand. “What the hell is this?”

You took another breath and stepped up to Billy, silently begging him not to make this harder than it already was. I’m sorry. The keys clanged mercilessly against the counter next to Billy, where you dropped them on your way through the kitchen, setting your bag on the ground so you could rinse out your glass. “I found a place,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. It was such a good idea before, but now, watching whatever small spark you used to see in those black eyes be snuffed out by your words, it seemed an impossible task. This is right. I can’t stay here anymore. Billy was silent behind you, but you caught his reflection, his glare directed at the back of your head, in the glass cupboard door.

“Were you going to tell me?” He finally asked.

“I’m telling you now,” you said calmly, drying the glass and then your hands on a towel. No longer able to stall with the chore, you turned to face him. Oh, Billy. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but you were God knows where,” good. Stay angry. It’s easier.

“I’ve been back from-“ Billy stopped himself and rolled his neck before looking at you again. “I’ve been back.”

“You haven’t been here...” you reminded him, leaning against the opposite counter, thankful for the island between you. It couldn’t have been more than a couple feet wide, but it was growing with every second. The divide between you growing and would continue to do so until he was no long in your sights. “Two nights in a row,” you scoffed and Billy’s scowl was so deep, you weren’t sure it was even for you. Thinking of her? Glad you were with her instead of with me? If you had been...maybe I could stay. The inaudible snarl tugged Billy’s upper lip until he sniffed and looked away, gathering his thoughts or maybe reminding himself that you were nothing to him.

“So that’s it?” He asked, unrecognizable cruelty dripping from his tongue. You’d heard it before, when Billy was on the phone or when he stepped out of his office so you couldn’t hear or when he talked about Arthur, he couldn’t hide the blood lust in his eyes, but admittedly you’d spent more than one night thinking about how much better the world would be without him. This was the first time it had been directed at you, however. “You’re just done?” He asked and you wanted to answer, but his laughter cut you off. “It’s fine. Playing house was getting pretty old anyways.” Bastard.

“You offered me a place...temporarily. I think I overstayed my welcome, don’t you?” Billy swallowed and mouthed a yeah, coughing to conceal another humorless chuckle, but he didn’t say anything out-loud. You closed the gap between you and the island, planting your hands on the steel counter to mimic Billy’s stance. “Thank you, Billy,” you said, suddenly finding it so much more painful to be looking up in his dark eyes. His look was strained and it seemed like he wanted to say something else, until his jaw clenched shut and his nostrils flared, same glare returning. You rolled your eyes and backed away, taking up your bag as you moved toward the door.

In a flash, Billy had you by the arm, pinned back against the door, looming over you with the fire in his eyes returning. You weren’t convinced you could take a breath without it shaking and giving away your nervousness, the uneasiness of having his face so close to yours. Your eyes flew back and forth between his, falling briefly to his lips. A kiss wouldn’t make this all worth it, but it might render you immobile. You couldn’t think like that, not now, not when you were so close to what you wanted, as if the man memorizing the lines of your face with an intensity that took your breath away wasn’t what you wanted more than anything. No. Not now. He can’t.

Billy licked his lips and leaned in, his breath warm against the skin of your face as he spoke directly into your ear. “I know you only stayed because of this...” he squeezed your arm for emphasis, thumb digging into your flesh, right at the eye of the black cyclone that was a perfect match for his own. “This dumb fucking mark.” Your breath hitched and you squeezed your eyes shut. Of course. Even after all this time. He didn’t believe you cared. He couldn’t and as badly as you wanted to hold him and tell him he was wrong, again, you simply couldn’t. He wouldn’t believe it even if you did. Billy exhaled quickly and his breath stung the side of your face as he leaned toward you again, twisting the door knob and pulling it open for you before stepping away.

“If I thought for a second you wanted me to stay, I would,” you assured him and he shook his head, looking everywhere but at you. “I-“ you started and suddenly his eyes were on yours, as if you knew what you were going to say. No. Not now. He wouldn’t... “I know you don’t care about your safety, Billy, but I do.” With a cleared throat and a tight nod, you spun toward the now open door.

@something-tofightfor @songtoyou @disengagefrmreality @littlemermaidprobz @strugglingsemicolon @actuallyazriel @cerezahowl

[statementends]

Watch Over You

Chapter One, Watcher Characters: Martin Blackwood, Elias Bouchard, Jonathan Sims Pairings: Martin/Jon, One-Sided Elias/Jon Rating: Canon Typical Warnings: Canon Typical, Non-Canonical Character death in later chapters... kind of. 

AO3 Link

Summary: In 1991 Elias Bouchard is not a man aiming to make anything of himself.In 2011 Martin Blackwood does his best to hide himself from his coworkers.Both find their way to the Magnus Institute and end up doing what they do best. Watching.Everyone is going to die if Martin doesn't make a sacrifice.

“Do you see?”

1991

Elias Bouchard had not made a name for himself in academic circles. He was not a scholar, and had very little interest in learning for the sake of learning’s sake. His PPE with third class honours would doubtlessly get him nowhere in the middle of a recession, but he wasn’t bothered. He would probably have liked to say it was because he had a plan, or resources. Savings or contacts.

But he didn’t.

He just had expectation weighing above his head from distant parents that would withhold their pennies and dimes if he didn’t ‘earn’ it. Ironic. You’d think being born to money would mean not having to earn it.

The other thing that didn’t help much was the reputation he had gotten. Parties had been much more interesting than learning politics. He liked nothing better than to find a soft couch in some almost stranger’s flat and smoke and drink and ...watch.

In hindsight it was lucky he only got a reputation as a pothead because there was nothing Elias liked more than to … people watch.

And when you’re at a party… well. A lot of the things you’re watching turns out to be fights, dancing, or sex. Especially sex. Elias wouldn’t mark himself down as a pervert exactly. It wasn’t about the sex, although he would be lying if he hadn’t taken note of some of the more attractive men and woman he spied on so casually behind a haze of smoke. It was a vicariousness for life. These people doing, and living. The nerd is the corner having a breakdown, the cute popular boy popping pills, the queen bee throwing up in the toilet. None of them taking note of laid back Elias as they passed the joint around.

He thought about it sometimes. It wasn’t that he was ever invited to these parties. He didn’t have close friends, just … people, acquaintances that knew he’d bring good weed, that thought he was nice enough. The party would be informal, filled with strangers. Filled with little stories and dramas and he would be unnoticed, never taking part himself.

He liked to pretend he was above it, but truthfully rejection had always stung him bitterly. He was afraid. A coward. He could watch and know these people without having met them, without them knowing him, he could know their surface, but he wouldn’t really be able to tell how they would react to him.

But it was alright, because the thrill of watching was better.

It was what had made him send in a resume to the Magnus Institute. He liked the idea of them. Taking stories about ghosts and things. He didn’t really know or understand that it was a place for scholars and research, things he had no interest in. Spooky ghosts. It seemed his speed.

He got the job. Not to take statements or research. No. He was assigned to Artifact Storage at first. That was where he found his destiny and his proper place in the universe.

That was where he met his god.

“Do you understand yet?”

2011

Martin liked his job.

It wasn’t a grocer or fast food restaurant. He didn’t have to deal with customers here. He had always been good at it, with people. He always got top marks in his reviews, and here at the institute he still got to talk to people. Following up for research. Most of the people he came in contact were ...well… scared. And he couldn’t blame them with some of the stories they got. He tried to be gentle with them. He always believed them. After all, even if it wasn’t real it still affected them. --Of course there were some people just taking the piss but the Institute left no story untold, and that was good. Sometimes it helped, telling your story…

Not that he would know that. He was a liar after all. A drop out with no credentials whatsoever. His first year here was nerve racking. He kept expecting someone to find out. That he would be called to Elias’ office, his CV on the desk, red pen circled around all his terrible lies and that he would be kicked out. Fired. And then what would he do? Mum was so sick. He needed the money and the Institute paid so much better than any entry level position he was actually qualified for.

But… nothing ever happened. When he was called to Elias’ office it was for a short performance review where he was told off a little for still not understanding the library’s filing system, but otherwise he was doing satisfactory work. That was it.

So for two years he’d grown… relaxed. He ingratiate himself with his colleagues by making tea and grabbing books and other small gestures. He was good at knowing when people needed something. Probably because his mother was loath to ever ask him for help. He had to know the signs. He got very good at it. Alisha would start crossing her arms and he’d turn up the thermostat. Rosie would start rubbing her hands and he’d hand her some lotion. Ted would get moody and he’d offer a granola bar. He knew everyone’s little indications that they could use a hot drink. He knew how to look after people, and the rest although challenging he learned. Learned how to write research papers and reports that no one seemed to complain about, and earned his paycheck that kept his family afloat.

Of course… it was lonely. Martin had always been...well… shy. Opening up had never been easy for him, not since his father left. He couldn’t exactly invite his co-workers over for a pint. His mother needed her rest, and his flat was small. She hated when he brought people over. She… always had her moods and really it was just better if she had her quiet. Of course, that didn’t stop him from going to other people’s flats and out to the pub, but…

It was… he didn’t really understand it. He liked to think of himself as nice. He got on everyone’s good side, but he didn’t really make friends. Maybe they knew, that underneath everything he was keeping something secret. Or maybe he was unlikable. That hurt to think about and he brushed it aside before he could connect it with his homelife.

The point was, despite everything, Martin liked his Jon.

Job.

Job. He liked his job.

He didn’t like Jon.

Jon was abrupt, rude, demanding, and all around stressful to work with. It didn’t help that he was absolutely brilliant. That he could rattle off files and dates and books off the top of his head. That he could translate Latin without need of reference guides. That for all his knowledge on the paranormal he seemed almost completely skeptical. He didn’t have a soft touch when dealing with the public, if it was unverifiable he had no time for it.

It wasn’t even that Jon was egotistical about how knowledgeable he was. He didn’t even really seem to realize how clever he was. It was just a matter of course. A stepping stone to get him to well… Martin didn’t know what. Maybe more information. Most nights Martin would see Jon at his desk reading or going over one thing or another. He was diligent, precise, hardworking and…

And Martin was having a hard time with him honestly. It was… well… he had the feeling Jon didn’t … like him.

Which… it was just… why would Jon dislike him? He had been nothing but nice to him. He had even shown him around in his first week--not that he actually needed showing around. Jon caught on to the filing system within five minutes of looking in the stacks. It was so stupid. Martin had wanted to make a good impression. The new researcher was supposed to be around his age (although everyone thought Martin was older with all the lies he had put down). Martin had hoped that maybe… well that maybe he might make a friend. Stupid. So stupid. And then meeting him well… Martin froze up.

Jonathan was … striking. Not classically handsome or anything but just… there was just something so magnetic about him. Silver had started to appear in his dark hair giving him a distinguished look. He was slim, and shorter than Martin. He had a tolerant neutral expression, a polite smile. Martin foolishly thought he might look pretty with a real one-- and his eyes. His eyes were piercing… absorbing. Being in Jon’s gaze was almost painful, but when it left him to trace over the shelves upon shelves of books Martin felt achingly empty.  

“Did you need something?” Jon had asked, noticing Martin was still at his elbow. He had been staring at all the books before that, still and calm, although in retrospect Martin realized he was excited.

“Well I can show you around the rest of the building, introduce you to some of the others.”

“No need,” Jon waved his hand. “I’m fine… thank you.” It was more of a dismissal than thanks, but Martin didn’t take the hint.

“I can help you go through the filing system. It’s a little tricky.”

“I got it. I’m good,” Jon said shortly.

“Are you sure you don’t want a cu--”

“Martin.” Jon’s tone drew a harsh edge. “I’m fine. Don’t you have your own work to do?”

Martin made a few bumbling words of … something and left. He tried to tell himself that Jon was just an arse, but rather convinced himself that he had been the one being too pushy. Usually he was better at reading people, but Jon had been irritated from the very beginning, and Martin had been… distracted by him.

Martin decided that he needed to do better with Jon there and then, but all he managed to do was make things between them worse. He tried to learn Jon’s signals. When he was cold, or hungry, or needed a break, but he didn’t give them off. He had to be just as tired and hungry as anyone else going at the rate he did, but he gave no indication of it. He only continued plowing through books and fieldnotes. Writing down information with his precise handwriting. Never stopping to sigh or look out the window. The only thing that seemed to pick up his mood was when new books came in.

It was actually sort of  worrisome the way Jon treated himself, so rather than helping Jon like he did everyone else Martin… butted in. After four hours he would interrupt and offer tea and biscuits. He would ask if Jon wanted the window open. He would note that it was lunchtime loudly in Jon’s vicinity. If nothing else Martin became good at identifying the range of Jon’s tolerance, but it worked. Jon would drink his tea with a grumbled resentful thanks. He would pull out the paper bag containing his lunch although he wouldn’t stop working while he ate it. He’d offer a pinched look when Martin asked about temperature. It didn’t take long for Martin to stop offering to help with the work itself. He could feel Jon’s estimations of him fall even lower when he handed him the page of translated Latin.

“How long… have you worked here?” Jon asked slowly.

Martin wished he could just see in Jon’s head so that he could give him what he wanted. Casually asking around to the other researchers didn’t gain much. Jonathan Sims is testy, but so knowledgeable. Have you read his paper on parasycopathy--or… something that sounded like that. Jon was even helpful, albeit grudgingly so with his fellow researchers. He didn’t like the idea of sloppy research representing the Institute so he would proofread, edit, or offer sources to those in need and brave enough to pull him from his own studies.

Maybe Martin was being unfair. Jon wasn’t always a grouch. He would get very excited and light up when someone got him into a conversation about a topic he didn’t know anything about. He would be extensive in asking all the information he could get on it. It looked … intimate in some ways. Martin had never had a topic that would perk Jon’s interest, but he liked to watch when someone else did. Jon was… captivating when he got like that. It was like a glimpse behind the wall he had built around himself. He was bea--

Martin shook his head in mild despair. Was he really that daft? Jon didn’t like him. There was no point in pining for something that would never happen. He should stop. He should leave Jon be and stop worrying about him and his skipped meals and late hours.

He should stay away.

He should stop watching him.

But he couldn’t. In fact if anything he watched him more. Wanted to see everything that Jon would show.

There’s a feeling here. Bitter mutual understanding. Mild annoyance. One of them wants to deny they are the same.

[lizartgurl]

“Back to You” (Aqualad x OC)

PART NINE

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight)

Equinox had steeled her stomach for what lay inside the storage room, but that still didn’t keep her from going pale. She tried to hide it, though, she was the one who insisted that they return. These were her sisters, friends, innocent women and girls who needed their help. And they were going to get it for them

Cages were stacked on top of one another like prison cells, trapping each individual in a space barely big enough for someone Aqualad’s size to sit up in. A few guards patrolled on mobile platforms, that stretched to reach the cages on the higher levels.

“There’s one vehicle entrance on the far end, the vents we came in, and the access staircase next to us,” Nightingale said, scanning the room with the computer built into her glove.

“Where would the vehicle entrance go? We’re too far underground,” Equinox said.

“Below sea level, in fact,” Aqualad said.

Nightingale plugged into into the abandoned computer station, looking out over the rows of cages. “The whole base is connected by the halls we saw, all of which are big enough for their vans. The vans are used to bring prisoners into the base to be catalogued, and to send smaller...shipments out.” She growled at their way of treating human beings like goods.

“There’s three entrances: The vehicle entrance we saw, a passageway into the bar in Angelsport above, and one that opens right into the river.”

“Maybe they have a submarine?” Equinox said.

“And that would be how they get larger groups of prisoners out,” Aqualad said.

Nightingale flipped through a few more files, downloading as much as she dared to risk detection in their system.

“An operation this big, the whole town must be involved,” She sighed.

“What do you know of Angelsport?” Jackson asked Miiyahbin.

She shrugged. “It was a trading post back in the days when the French first settled. They just wanted to trade, and they did so with the permission of the Cree Elders and the Midayo. After the English drove the French and other Europeans out of North America, it was abandoned. I remember coming here for a field trip when I was in Elementary school, but that was the last time anyone from Moose Factory came out here.

“Well, came out here and returned,” She added in a mumble.

“The closest highways are on the other side of the Island. They’re pretty well hidden, I’ll give them that.” Nightingale shut off the computers.

“Okay, we’ve got schematics, we’ve seen where they keep their prisoners, but we need to get out of here before we get found.”

Equinox and Aqualad had no further argument. They slipped out of the secondary control station before the guards found them, making their way back to the vent they’d entered.

“Miiyahbin?” A voice whispered, carried to the Midayo warrior by the winds she worked with.

She spun as Aqualad carefully removed the grate, and caught sight of an arm, squeezed between the bars of a cage, reaching out to her.

“Heather,” Her best friend. She sprinted to the cage and started unlocking it without hesitation.

“Equinox!” Nightingale hissed. Aqualad was running after her. She blew off the lock with help from the winds before he could reach her, tugging Heather from the cage.

“Go,” She urged, pushing her towards Aqualad. Heather was bruised, and dizzy. Aqualad hesitated for a moment before lifting the Cree girl in his arms, carrying her back to the vent.

They could hear the guards on the next aisle over, wondering about the commotion as their actions garnered the attention of hundreds of other imprisoned women.

Hands shaking, Miiyahbin struggled to put the lock back on, until she felt a pair of strong arms around her. Nightingale helped her place the lock back on correctly, and ran her hands over the metal bars of the cage.

“An Electric Impulse, it should make their minds fuzzy concerning her, where they’ll either see her there in a shadow, or forget she was even there.”

“Thank you,” Miiyahbin said.

Nightingale nodded and took her hand, turning to the other prisoners, all hopeful that they would be the next to be rescued.

“We’ll come back for you, I promise.” She said.

“I promise too,” Equinox said, not afraid that her voice was shaking. For a moment, the world flashed with a blueish-white light, and several women gasped.

“The Midayo,” One whispered.

Equinox smiled, but let Nightingale pull her into the vents. They sealed their exit behind them just as the guards came running around the corner.

-

“You are all very foolish, but also very, very brave.”

It wasn’t the first time Emma had heard that, and Grandmother’s mixed compliment certainly wouldn’t be the last time she or Kaldur heard it.

The ever-maternal Mrs. Marten tittered about Heather with blankets and tea, somewhat intervening with Charles’ attempts to see to her injuries. As the sun rose over the river, Miiyahbin had flown back to town to fetch Heather’s parents after Emma had made sure that she would swear them to secrecy. Hooty had found sanctuary once more atop the bookshelf.

“How are your symptoms? Have they gotten worse.”

Emma shrugged dizzily. “No worse than what I’ve had before.”

McNider raised an eyebrow at her. “Are they worse than they were when you left last night?”

Emma didn’t answer, and Kaldur wrapped his arm around her. “You are just as bad as Batman.”

“You’re one to talk,” She muttered, taking her mask off to rub her eyes. Sitting on the countertop, she leaned into Kaldur’s chest, and he placed his other arm around her.

Miiyahbin carefully opened the door, ushering in Heather’s fathers.

“Heather, baby!” Heather pushed past Grandmother and threw her arms around her fathers.

“You’re safe now, you’re safe,” They promised.

“She has no trace of drugs in her system, and the bruises should heal up in a week or so,” Mid-Nite assured them.

“In the meantime, keep her at home, don’t let her leave. We don’t want whoever took her to know that she’s been rescued.” Emma warned.

“Let her recover in privacy,” Kaldur added.

Heather’s fathers nodded.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” They sobbed, setting their silent daughter back on the ground to walk again.

“I’ll see them back to town,” Miiyahbin said. She followed them out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

Grandmother sighed, making herself at home on the couch and twisting her two long, white braids around her head. She hadn’t had time to do her hair after Miiyahbin woke her up in the middle of the night, dragging her out to Ted Grant’s old cabin.

“Well, it’s certainly been a while since I’ve seen you around here, Charles,” She remarked. She drew a bit of moose Jerky from a pouch in her purse, and Hooty swooped down to snatch it from the waiting palm of her hand.

“It certainly has,” Charles chuckled, letting Hooty rest on his shoulder as he packed up his first aid kit.

Emma was surprised that she was fazed at all at this point. The Martens knew Ted, it was likely that they knew the whole JSA too.

“My husband worked with the JSA back when he was the Midayo, before the powers were bestowed to Miiyahbin’s father, our son,” Grandmother explained anyway.

Emma nodded, letting Grandmother back into their kitchen to make a pot of tea.

“Now, Mister and Miss Hyde, I don’t believe you’ve been completely honest with me, or my granddaughter,” She said, pressing a hot cup of tea into Emma and Kaldur’s hands.

“We’re not married,” Emma blurted out, the first thing that came to mind. She was able to stop herself before adding the “but I wish we were,” that popped up next.

“I am Kaldur’ahm of Atlantis, commonly known as Aqualad.” Kaldur performed a little salute, with his hand holding his mug over his heart.

“And I’m Emma, Nightingale.” Emma gestured to the big purple bird on her chest. “We’re undercover on Justice League orders.”

Grandmother nodded, taking this all in with incredible grace and composure. “For whatever reason you’ve come here, it appears you’ve come at the right moment. Miiyahbin is still young, she needs help learning to use her powers to help others. She is far too young to be the Midayo. If my son had not disappeared, she would not even begin her training for another year at least. I have done what I can, but there is only so much I can do, as I am not a full Midayo as she.”

Emma nodded, her mind flooded with the memories of a thousand other children who had parents and normal lives ripped from them far too soon.

“We can help her,” Kaldur promised, “But we do not wish to impose on your traditions.”

“We don’t have much of a choice right now,” Grandmother said gravely, “Make no mistake, I love my people, and I love my culture. The traditions of the Midayo are an important part of that culture, but whoever we’re up against took her father, another Midayo. There is no telling what they will do to her. Traditions will have to wait, at least for now, until the world is safer.”

“The world is never safe,” Emma said, setting aside her mug.

“Emma, when did you become so cynical?” Kaldur asked, suddenly ignoring the adults in the room.

“Since I realized how hurt you can be when you don’t recognize the reality of things,” She shot back.

Charles cleared his throat, “Yes, we realize that the world can be a terrible place, but there is a time and place for everything, such as discussing what you found at Angelsport?” He hinted strongly.

Emma tossed her glove on the countertop, pressing a button so that everyone could see the holo-projection.

“They’ve kidnapped at least a hundred girls, from here on Moose Factory and the surrounding indigenous areas. From what Miiyahbin told me, it’s been happening for the past few years, and the government doesn’t so much as glance in that direction.”

Grandmother nodded gravely.

“There are three entrances to the compound,” Kaldur spun the hologram, generating a 3-D map of the hidden base, “The automobile entrance at the foot of the hill, The bar at the center of Angelsport, and the waterway.”

“Guards are sparse, they rely on secrecy and ignorance more than anything.”

“If we use our powers, we might be able to overpower whatever they threw at us,” Kaldur mused, “Divide and conquer, each of us taking a separate entrance.”

Mid-Nite saw the terror that flashed through Emma’s eyes.

“No, they trade their prisoners for something,” She said quickly, “Part of it’s weaponry. We’re not setting up Miiyahbin to get shot.”

Kaldur looked at her with a frown, “She will get shot at either way, and it would be better that she discover the dangers of what she is taking on now rather than later.”

“Now who’s being cynical?” Emma growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Kal, this is part of a whole trafficking ring, this is just a pit stop in the cycle. We have to figure out what’s connected to it. We can’t just go in with Brute Force.”

“Taking them head on is going to have the same effect as freeing their prisoners one by one. Anything we do to disrupt them will alert the rest of their group. The longer we wait gives them the opportunity to ship this women all over the world and take even more.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve seen this so many times. Gotham’s a hotspot for trafficking, no one cares about the people who live there except Batman.”

“Batman!” Miiyahbin came crashing in the front door. It was clear she’d tried to open the door with her wind while she was still flying.

“Can’t we ask him for help? I’ve always wanted to meet Robin.”

Emma and Kaldur shared an uneasy glance. “That option’s a bit of a last resort right now.” Emma made a note to tell Tim that even if Nightwing was perceived as “hotter” by social media, he had at least one fangirl in the Canadian winterlands.

Grandmother helped Miiyahbin to her feet. “I think that all of you have had a long night. Perhaps we should take some time to rest before plotting another attack.”

No one seemed happy about it, but Grandmother was right. The Martens said goodbye, only after Grandmother encouraged them both to come by the Trading Post whenever they wanted, and Charles and Hooty were right behind them.

“Before I forget, Your friends sent these,” He handed them a stack of envelopes, tied to a small box with a piece of twine.

“Thank you,” Kaldur took the box, and saw Charles out the door.

Though exhausted, they both sat on the couch, eager to hear news from home. One week was too long to go without hearing from their team, Kaldur knew too well.

“My parents are well,” Kaldur said with a small smile, reading from a greenish piece of paper painted with seashells that smelled of the sea. “King Orin and Queen Mera have invited them to dinner at the royal palace every night this week, they might as well have moved in. And my father says that mother has adopted Prince Joseph in all but name.”

Emma laughed, “Listen to this, Mara says that this kid showed up at the cave last week claiming to be Bruce’s son, and the first one to warm up to him was Justice.”

“Okay, now I’m hurt,” Kaldur chuckled.

“Oooo, M’gann sent us cookies!” Emma opened the box that was addressed to them.

“Are they better than mine?” Kaldur teased.

“Much better,” Emma teased right back with a mouth full of crumbs.

“No way!” She shouted two seconds later, standing on top of the couch.

“What?” Kaldur stood up as well, trying to see what she was so excited about.

Emma grinned, showing him Wally and Artemis’s engagement announcement. “We knew it before they did.”

“I can’t believe it,” Kaldur took the card from her to examine for himself, half-convinced it was fake.

Before either of them knew it they were hugging, overjoyed for two of their oldest friends.

“They must be so happy,” Kaldur said, “I hope we can be there to share in their happiness.”

“We will,” Emma said immediately. “I promise you, Kal, you’re not going to be holed up in here forever. The League’s gonna find out who’s threatening you and stop them.”

“What if they don’t?” Kaldur froze for a moment, paralyzed by fear.

Emma stepped back for a moment, and tapped him on the nose. “Then I will. That’s a promise.”

They stood there for a moment more, holding each other. Neither of them pulled away or thought it was awkward. Even if they weren’t in love, or even fake-in-love, they could still be friends, right? Friendship was something that meant so much to both of them.

“Come on,” Emma smiled at Kaldur, “Knowing M’gann, we’d better eat these cookies before they spontaneously combust.”

[blu-spade-studios]

Hey guys! It’s Blu again!

This is my art for Song #15: Electromechanism from Homestuck the Musical: Act 1.

Here’s the link to the song on our director’s blog for the project:

https://kingspirals.tumblr.com/post/179764378045/we-meet-a-new-face-and-see-just-how-well-john-is

The art called for two scenes of John facing off against the crude ogres and one of Jade and... a mysterious stranger? I had originally given this stranger a face, but when told to keep their identity a secret, I pretty much blackened the face entirely. Don’t worry though, the original is below the cut.

I got these down a lot faster than with Unbreakable Union, but you might notice a difference since I used different brushes this time. That said, I think I prefer this look more? Idk.

Anyway, the glow effect on Nana came out FANTASTIC, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Featured below the cut are progress gifs if you guys are interested!

These scenes actually were originally the job of another artist, but they disappeared suddenly so I took over.

First was the scene with John about to fight the ogres. That hammer was the hardest part honestly, and I had to redraw it TWICE because I got the perspective wrong and I STILL think I could’ve done it better, but I didn’t have forever to draw a damn Pogohammer. To be fair though, things would’ve been way worse if it was, say, the Wrinklefucker that I had to draw. Also, I just had to add little stitches and patches to those saturated af ogres garments, otherwise they would’ve been utterly ridiculous to color and also, stitches and patches are cool.

Then I went on to the scene with Jade and Karkat mystery internet guy! Okay, sorry guys, I’m just gonna say his name, lol. So, much like I explained with my behind-the-scenes with my art for Unbreakable Union, Tex wanted the kids as close to their MSPA sprites has possible, but allowed me some coloring freedom. So I kept the kids to a paler skin tone and did simple clothing colors, but I did take some freedom is making Jade’s hair more wavy/curly than the sprite.

And the version without censoring Karkat’s face. Or well- without FULLY censoring his face and other troll specific features. Thank goodness he has nubby horns that don’t pop out from his silhouette.

And last was the scene of John actually fighting an ogre! This scene got the most sketches- I re-drew it four times before we finally settled on a final design. Well, actually, Tex approved the second one, but I personally just... wasn’t into it, so I drew two more that I liked better and one of those got approved, thank goodness.  This one was incredibly fun to work on! I just really loved working on the John’s pose and the way he squishes into the ogre’s hat and shoulder pad(?). Not to mention, Nana is oddly satisfying to draw and color and, hehehehehehe, glowy glow effects, hehehehehe.

Whelp! This has been Installment #2 in my work on KingSpiral’s Homestuck the Musical: Act 1!

Thanks for bothering to check it out, I really appreciate it!

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

Showtime, Chapter 5

@andiwriteunderthemoon, @the-starlight-chills, @ieppiq, and @fishymom-art​

Pass the Tests

They waited for Ted.

Out in the hall, Liza could hear the animatronics eagerly talking among themselves. It was clear the trio was friends. She probably could’ve rolled her chair over to eavesdrop and see if she could make out some kind of pecking order or personalities or anything that could help her, besides Rex stealing her hat for no reason. Instead, she sat frozen in her chair, the back of her chair between her and the door. The ghost girl (Doll?) was seated on top of the cabinet, watching Liza and the present box. Together, they listened as the heavy footsteps drew closer.

Then Ted Bear himself was in the doorway and Liza stifled a scream.

He was the one who was in the best condition. Of course, he is, her mind whispered. He’s the brand face. Her scars started to ache as her fingers clenched the back of the chair. Her eyes lingered too long on the cruel brown ones aimed at her before golden eyes lowered in submission. They moved to her current protector, the Puppet in the box. Ted growled.

The others respectfully moved back so he was the only one in the doorway. They hung back as silent support behind him.

And all Liza had was a ghost girl and a tiny puppet in a cardboard box.

Dios mios, she was so screwed.

Ted took a step forward, jabbing a short paw-like finger. “You.” Liza squeaked. “I’ve been sick and tired of your idiocy, sweetheart,” The pet name was spat out like poison. “Been sick of you giving us trouble since the first night. I’m not made for running,” As he talked, she noticed there was a slight up and down motion to his fake fur, like he was panting. There was a winded note to his voice, she noticed in the way all trapped people did. It also looked like he couldn’t raise his left arm correctly. Liza was no genius. But she had been raised by the man who created these animatronics and she had done some mechanical tampering through the years. 

Up close, she could also see the cosmetic damage on Ted.

She had to wonder if it hurt.

Ted’s rant was broken by a soft “Ted.” from Kitty. The bear spared a glance over his shoulder, much kinder and warmer than his glare at the night guard. “Look.” She pointed to the present on the desk. The bear followed her point.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was no twinkling music from the music box and the bow didn’t so much as give a shudder. There didn’t seem to be a need for it. Ted stared at it. The anger slid from shock back to greater anger and a bit of hurt. “Her?! Out of everyone, her!?”

“Excuse me?!”

Ted gritted his teeth. Liza wisely closed her mouth. She resisted the childish urge to squeeze her eyes in hopes that the nightmare would go away.

“What do we do?” Rex whispered. He was peeking out from behind Bun, who was staring at Liza. It looked like the pirate was examining her, especially focused on her scarf. Liza risked a quick look back. Doll had moved to be behind her, watching the proceedings with curious eyes.

“What can we do?” The captain said when it seemed like Ted wasn’t going to speak. “There’s no other choice. We’ve tried to reason with the Black Devil, but it’s not having any of it. Haven’t seen it like this in ages, since...you know. The other one.” All eyes turned to Bun and Liza felt what little remained of her patience snap.

“Reasoning?! You tried- no you did not!” All eyes returned to her, but the tidal wave of anger consuming her helped her ignore that as she scrambled off the chair. “You were going to kill me anyway until the puppet-guy-thing whatever,” She jabbed a finger at the box. “Stopped you! That’s not reasoning! You were going to ignore it!”

“She even understands us now…!” Rex groaned like the situation was an unfortunate burden the animatronics had to deal with. Or they were the victims of some great tragedy. Whatever it was, it stoked the flames of her anger.

“Watch your mouth, swabbie.” Bun hissed at Liza, eye plates downwards to give her a glare.

“N-No!” God, where was this coming from?

“Liza.” Doll said gently. When she glanced back, she had a mask of calm on. “Calm down.”

“I said NO!” She stomped her foot, feeling like a toddler having a tantrum. The animatronics could still kill her- Puppet was only three feet to their hulking masses. Liza grabbed the present box and hugged it to her chest. If this was her only shield, she had the right to hold it! Everyone went silent, staring at the box like they expected the Puppet to rise out and deal with her itself.

It did not.

Liza breathed in and out, trying to gain control of her temper and her heart rate. “I-I have ev-every right to t-talk! You guys, for two nights, have been trying to stuff me in a suit! I’m not an endoskeleton, which should be obvious to you if your AI is this advanced!” Crap, she felt tears prick at her eyes. “I’m not even metal!” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry! “I mean, what kind of Hell is this place?!”

Rex cackled. “Be it ever so humble, home is home.” The others were less amused.

“We don’t appreciate that kind of language, Miss…” Ted paused, clearly not sure of her name.

“Dorado. Liza Dorado.”

Ted paused. There was a moment of silence where he just stared at her. It almost felt like he was stunned. Liza shifted awkwardly but before she could talk, he continued. “Dorado. We are a family-friendly establishment.”

“Yeah, ye better keep your language squeaky clean or ye face the jar!” Bun said with a wave of a hook.

“The jar?” A moment passed before realization struck. Liza blinked. “You...have a swear jar.”

“It’s mostly for the summer workers.” Kitty huffed, crossing her arms. “Those teenagers have such an attitude sometimes!”

She nodded faintly, still gaping at the new knowledge. “Okay...makes sense.” It was kinda charming, in an Addams Family way.

“And if you don’t have money for the jar,” Rex continued, malicious grin returning. “Ted’ll chase you down and wash your mouth out with soap!”

“Geez, either getting my mouth washed out with soap for some salty language or being brutally maimed for existing, I wonder which one’s worse?” Behind her, Liza could hear Doll stifle laughter. The sound gave her a little bit of confidence.

Bun snarled, and it disappeared. “Don’t be mistaking our tone, swabbie. There’s still a black mark on you. You could still be strung up and stuffed if you fail the tests.”

“Wha- Tests?! But I already got the job! I already got the job!” She aimed the last one at the box. Maybe when the bots left, she could try and wheedle information out of the Puppet. ‘Tests’ made it sound like it was holding something out on her.

“You’re not out of the woods yet, Dorado.” Ted snarled. He turned and stomped out of the room, the others making a path for him. Liza stared at his retreat before realizing that the others were staring too.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Kitty whispered. “Do you think he’ll be okay? I mean, this has happened before, but-”

“Aw, don’t worry sis!” Rex patted the cat on the shoulder. “Ted’ll come around. It’s not like we don’t know what to do if Liza here fails.” Despite the cheerful tone, the dog still snarled at the human. Liza frowned, grabbing the remote to press the down button for the door. “Wha- Hey!”

“It’s Elizabeth. Liza’s a nickname.” she shot as the door went down slowly. “And I want my hat back-!” Before the door finally settled, the hat smacked her in the face. “Gracias.” She waited at the door, listening as the group whispered amongst themselves before hearing their footsteps walk away.

She let out a gasp of air, collapsing in her chair and dropping her hat. Her world still hadn’t righted itself, but it was getting easier to swallow. Questions chased themselves around and around as she set the box on the desk and grabbed the tablet. Doll seized her chance and sat in her lap. Liza absently stroked her hair, staring at the box. How much trouble was she or the Puppet in because of its inaction?

The lid moved back, revealing the Puppet. It rose until it and her face were level. “That went...well.” The whisper came from between her ears. It was an odd feeling, but Liza held back her shudders. There was no need for her protector to think she was frightened by it.

“I’d hate to see what poorly is,” Liza said, shifting to get comfortable. Doll had no weight, but the cold feeling she brought sent pin and needles through her legs. When she looked up, Puppet was shaking its head.

“Do not take their retreat so lightly. They are upset by my decision- I do not blame them.” It gave a hum of thought. “Give them time. It’ll change.” The porcelain face moved, taking in the cramped security room with what looked like interest. “Things always change with time, Night Guard.”

“You keep calling me that,” Liza noted. “I...have a name, you know.”

A blank stare met her words. “No. This is your job.” The Puppet leaned forward, eerily close. It was close enough that she could’ve heard the bot’s inner workings.

There was nothing but silence.

“I will call you as you are. You will remain this way until you die, or otherwise.”

“Otherwise?”

“Each night guard was similarly considered. All of them were flawed. I allowed the animatronics to...dispose...of them.” The Puppet leaned back in its box. “It was kind to them.”

Logically, it was best to stay on the good side of the thing keeping her from a suit. But Liza was not known for logic unless it involved machines. Rafael said it was one of her most charming qualities, combined with her bravery. But she didn’t feel very brave.

She felt like she was going to throw up.

“Wha-What do you mean- you let the others dispose of them? How- they were humans!” Distantly, she noticed Doll turn more see-through like she was paling.

“No. They were adults.” The Puppet spoke like she was a very small child, making her bristle. There was a frantic whisper in her head to stop arguing with whatever this thing was. It reeked of power. Every action it did carried weight.

But she ignored the voice.

“Yeah, and that meant they were kids once too! I mean, what chévere man?! Where were you the first night? Why am I the golden girl all of a sudden?!” The anger that consumed her while talking to the bots came back, full of righteous fury for herself and the others before her. “What about the phone guy?! It sounded like he loved this place much more than I did!”

“This is not about love, Night Guard.” The Puppet’s voice was low, sending her spine through ice. “This is about justice.”

“Justice? On what?”

Her question was waved away with a careless flip of a hand. “Do not concern yourself with the details yet. Right now, it should be on creating and maintaining a positive working relationship with the others. Their aid will be invaluable if you can sway them.”

Liza sputtered. “Wa- You mean, play nice?! No way!” Despite her fear, she flipped the tablet closed without checking and shoved it on the desk. She crossed her arms.

“Alright. But know that my protection will be revoked and you will be disposed of.”

She stared.

“Better to just agree.” Doll whispered.

“...This is blackmail.”

“This is business.”

This time, she shuddered. What did she have to lose? A lot, apparently. For now, to stay alive, she had to make undesirable choices. She sighed. “Alright.” She held her hand out. For a moment, the two stared at each other. “Um...dude?”

“Yes, that is your hand.”

“No, um...I figured that we would shake on it? You know, like making a deal. You keep me from a suit, I’ll play nice?”

“Shake...on it?”

Liza resisted the urge to grin. “People do it when they’re making a deal or a promise. You give me your hand and we’ll make a promise. Like, I promise I’ll play nice with the killer bots and you promise that you’ll keep me from being murdered.” After a long moment, the Puppet mimicked Liza. They shook hands.

The Puppet seemed lost in thought when they finished, withdrawing into the box without another word. Though it did give Liza a strange, completive look before the lid closed and the music box started to play. It played twinkling notes softly for a few seconds before finally stopping.

“That was...weird,” Liza said finally.

Doll shrugged. “It’s old.” She said this like it was some type of explanation.

Even if it was old, who didn’t know how to shake hands?

That was such a little kid thing.

She waited in the office, making an absent note to start taking notes. Any bit of information could be useful to keep her arse from a suit. When six AM finally came, she walked slowly out. In the main dining hall, she couldn’t resist giving the bots on-stage the finger.

“See you tonight,” she grumbled out.

[theunrealinsomniac]

Rita x Andromeda + 215 or 312. thanks

I am finally doing one! Honest! Stupid real life getting in the way.

215: ‘It’s not what it looks like …’

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to make of the scene before him as he allowed Teddy to scramble down from his arms, the small boy waddling towards his grandma like what they had walked in on was a regular occourence.

‘Do put your tongue back in Harry,’ Andromeda said as she scooped up the beaming toddler with a massive smile. ‘Hi Teddy!’

‘Gran’ma!’ The boy burbled as his fingers wrapped around the lapel of the fluffy dressing gown. The snoozing form of Rita Skeeter curled up next to her in an equally fluffy dressing gown. Only hers was open to expose the pyjamas Harry knew Andromeda had brought while they were out shopping last week.’

‘Wuzzat?’ Rita said, pale blonde curls whipping around as she sprung awake and stared blearily at Harry. ‘Harry? What are you doing in Andy’s house?’

‘I could say the same to you,’ Harry said with more bite than either woman was expecting. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘It’s not what it looks like Harry,’ Andromeda said as she fussed over Teddy’s messy hair, smiling fondly as the boy wriggled and finally gave in to her stroking it into something more presentable. ‘Teddy please do morph out of your brunet Harry look please.’

Teddy harrumphed and scrunched up his face, his hair popping into a dark pink, that kind of resembled Tonks’ hair colour when Harry met her. Only more combed.

‘Wonderful,’ Andromeda said as she snuggled him in. ‘Anyway, it’s not what it looks like.’

‘I don’t even know what it looks like,’ Harry said as he looked between the two women. Rita cooing at Teddy who grinned back. Rita Skeeter being … pleasant.

It had to be a trick. ‘Why’s she here?’

Rita turned and frowned at him. ‘I took advantage of staying over last night, since you weren’t meant to be back until the afternoon.’

‘It is afternoon dear,’ Andy said as she wrapped her free hand around Rita’s. ‘You just looked too peaceful to wake up.’

The two women kissed, a coy little smile on Rita’s face as Andromeda’s lips drew nearer. ‘I think we’d best come clean darling.’

Harry nodded, because this was some kind of head game certainly. He’d forgotten Andromeda’s birthday and she was messing with him … or he’d been dosed and was having a fever dream.

‘Well Harry,’ Andromeda started. ‘Rita and I have been seeing each other for about a year, ever since Ted died we rekindled an old friendship and it sort of happened naturally.’

‘But …’

‘Harry,’ Rita interrupted. ‘I understand you and I have had a rough ride of it over the years-’

‘You mean where you lied about me for your own gain? Profiting on deadly events happening in my life, many of which very nearly killed me. While calling my best female friend a slapper because she dared to be my friend while going to a dance?’

Rita blushed and he could see excuses forming on her tongue before Andromeda put a hand across her. ‘She’s apologised for all that Harry. The war changed things. Rita and I are happy and I would like you to be happy for me if not her. You know how hard it is to move on from love like mine and Ted’s.’

Harry glared daggers at the blonde woman who at least had the decency to look abashed. But … damn it, if Andromeda was happy.

‘Fine,’ Harry bit out. ‘But if she ever hurts you, I will end her.’

Andromeda chuckled and leaned into Rita’s arm. ‘Like the son I never had, didn’t I tell you?’ 

He ignored their girlish giggling, retreating to the kitchen with a final jab. ‘So it was what it looked like then?’

Rita laughed highly. ‘Could have been worse, you could have walked in last night …’

‘Rita!’ Andromeda gasped and blushed, the smile on her face disturbingly like the one Tonks had had when Harry had caught her making out with Remus.

‘I need a drink.’

[raywritesthings]

Bird in a Storm 9/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Quentin Lance, Dinah Lance, Ted Grant, Thea Queen, John Diggle, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Dinah left the Starling City airport with her suitcase rolling behind her, a small bout of nerves starting to grow. It had been so long since she’d been here, she almost didn’t recognize the place. And she worried perhaps the people wouldn’t recognize her.

But she had news, urgent news. And she needed help. Maybe once Sara was back home safe and sound, everything would be alright.

She had Laurel’s address written on a little post-it note. The sticky part on the back had long worn out, but she’d managed to hang onto it all these years. Every so often on a birthday or Christmas, she took it out and considered… but it would have been too late, she had always reasoned. Her daughter would have wondered why she had decided to reach out at that moment. Well, now she did have a reason.

She took the elevator up to the third floor and rolled her suitcase all the way down the hall, knocking on the door at the end. Dinah drew in a deep breath as she waited, hearing footsteps approach.

A young man in a shirt and tie answered the door. “Hello?”

Dinah’s greeting caught in her throat, unsure of what to do. Was this a friend of Laurel’s? More than a friend?

“Tim, who is it?” A young woman’s voice called out. A young woman who was decidedly not her daughter.

“I’m sorry. I must have gotten the wrong address,” she stated before Tim could answer. “I’m visiting family.”

“Oh. Well, if you need a directory or something—”

“No, that’s alright.” Dinah gripped the handle of her suitcase and took a step back. “I’ll be fine.”

She turned and left the building. With great reluctance, she directed her feet towards the precinct. She’d been hoping to speak to Laurel before Quentin, but if needs must then they must.

Dinah wasn’t surprised to find him working. He always was. She found him with his head buried in a file, only a little worse for wear than when she’d last seen him.

“Just a minute,” he said with a vague wave in her direction.

“That’s alright,” Dinah replied and watched as he froze before looking up at her.

“Dinah. What- what are you doing here?” He was staring at her like she was a ghost, and he stood slowly, one hand braced on the desk.

“Well, it’s about Sara. And about Laurel, I suppose,” she added with a shrug. “Do you know where I can find her? I tried her old apartment, but she seems to have moved out.”

“Yeah, she did that about a month ago,” Quentin told her. “Look, I’ll give you the address, but I better go over there with you. It’s in the Glades.”

“The Glades?” Even when she’d been living in Starling, the Glades hadn’t been the nicest place to find yourself. From the few news stories she’d read at times while feeling nostalgic, that had only gotten worse. “What is she doing there?”

Quentin sighed and grabbed his keys. “I’ll explain on the way.”

He started with the appearance of the vigilante known as the Hood, how he’d reached out to Laurel and how their daughter had supported him. The botched attempt at bringing him in that had resulted in Laurel’s name becoming attached to the Hood and how she’d been forced to choose between him and her job. Laurel’s subsequent fall from grace.

Even listening to the explanation, it was hard for her to grasp. “Quentin, how could this happen?”

“Well, it did. And don’t look at me like that. At least I was here.”

Dinah stared down at her lap. His words were only so biting because they were true. But he didn’t understand why she hadn’t been able to stay. None of them could.

He slowed down as they turned onto a narrow street with cars parked up both sides. “Well, which one is it?”

“I’m looking.” He stopped peering out the window to glance back at her sheepishly. “We, uh, got into it a bit, and I haven’t been over yet. But we’re patching things up.”

Dinah said nothing. She couldn’t exactly criticize him. And if both her ex-husband and daughter were in forgiving moods already, perhaps that was for the better.

He finally picked a spot to parallel park in and they both got out. A dog was barking somewhere off in the distance, and loud music echoed out of a window down the street.

Quentin knocked on the door. When it opened, Dinah couldn’t hold in a gasp.

Five years was five years, yet still they had not prepared her for the differences in her daughter. Laurel’s eyes jumped from Quentin to Dinah, widening for a moment and then narrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Quentin raised his hands up. “Look, this wasn’t me. She came to the station and asked to see you.”

Dinah stepped forward, one hand reaching out. “You’ve changed your hair.”

Laurel drew back before she could quite touch the strands. “So have you.”

Dinah let her arm fall. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Would it be alright if your father and I came in?”

Laurel shrugged and stepped back. They followed her into a tiny living room that was separated from the kitchen only by a pillar with a counter branching out of one side of it. There was a couch and little else in the way of furniture. A hallway that barely fit one person held two doors; presumably bedroom and bathroom.

“Well, it’s… it’s efficient,” she remarked with a smile she hoped didn’t look too forced.

“It’s affordable,” Laurel said bluntly. “But I don’t think you’re here to inspect my living conditions, mom. You didn’t care to for the last five years.”

Dinah looked down. “Yes, I know. But I have something to tell you both, and it’s important.”

Both father and daughter had their arms crossed, staring her down. They’d always been so alike. Dinah squared her shoulders and gathered her breath. “I think Sara’s still alive.”

Quentin’s mouth dropped open. “You- how? You’ve heard from her?”

“No, but I believe she survived.”

Laurel didn’t look the least bit convinced. “If Sara survived the shipwreck, Oliver would have said so.”

“He might not know. I’ve done research. There are countless small islands in the North China Sea that she could’ve washed up on and found food, shelter.”

“What makes you so sure she did?” Quentin asked.

Dinah pulled out her trump card. “There’s a photo of an unidentified girl in the same region. Quentin, look at the hat.” She held the photo out to him and watched his expression turn first incredulous and then hopeful. “It’s just like the one you bought Sara.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” he agreed softly.

“Yes, because it’s the official Rockets baseball cap sold in countless stores in the city and the stadium,” Laurel pointed out. They both looked up at her frowning face. “Let’s say Sara did make it off the Gambit alive. How did she hang onto a hat for five years and keep it in that good of condition?”

“There’s no proof that she couldn’t have,” Dinah pointed out, her voice far more feeble than she wanted it.

“Then take it to the authorities or the embassies. I don’t know why you’d bring it to me.” Her daughter turned and made as if to settle on the couch.

“Because this is about our family, Laurel,” Dinah snapped. “I know what Sara did hurt you, but don’t you care?”

Laurel stopped on a dime and spun around. “You’re asking if I care about this family? Our family died the same night Sara did. And not just because of that, but because of everything you didn’t do after.” Dinah flinched, yet Laurel continued right on. “Did you ever ask me how I felt? If I was okay? You just left, mom!”

“Honey, come on,” Quentin tried to intercede, but Laurel gave a sharp shake of the head.

“You’ve been chasing a ghost the last five years while dad and I are right here! I’ve been here this whole time, and you didn’t care. And I’m not saying I’m good enough to make up for losing Sara — but I’m… I’m something, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I have been something to you? Something to stay for?” The anger banked by the time she finished, leaving her daughter’s pleading eyes staring at her.

Dinah was at a loss for words for a long moment. “Please, Laurel, I didn’t mean — you and your father have always been so alike. You had each other. I thought you’d be alright. If I’d known that- that something like this—”

She gestured around the cramped space, and her daughter scoffed.

“Believe me, dad has given plenty of lectures.”

“But he has a point. He says you lost your job because you were protecting this- this Hood. You care about him.”

Laurel’s chin raised in defiance. “I care about the good he’s doing for the city.”

Dinah shook her head. “Sweetheart, please. I know what it’s like to feel you need to do something no matter the consequences. No matter who gets hurt. Even if it’s you. Sara was doing the same thing.”

Laurel stilled, and Quentin looked up from his close examination of the floor. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Dinah stopped herself. Could she really say this? If it helped Laurel in any way, it stood to reason that she owed it to her after all this time. “I saw her the day she left.”

“What?” The question was Quentin’s, hoarse and disbelieving.

Dinah bowed her head again. “I came home early and she was packing. She told me everything, said she was in love when I asked her not to go. I said she shouldn’t do it to you, Laurel,” she added, taking a step towards her daughter, who backed up in equal measure. “But Sara always followed her heart, just like me. You’re not that way, Laurel. You can stop this.”

Quentin sat on the arm of the couch, his head in his hands. He probably couldn’t bare to look at her.

Laurel couldn’t seem to look away, even as her lip trembled and her eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I follow my heart?”

Dinah drew back at the iciness in her tone. Laurel took a step back towards her so there were now inches between them.

“What do you think I was following when I agreed to a date with Oliver even knowing his reputation? When I ignored all the texts he must have been sending to other women? When I took out the lease on my old apartment thinking I’d be sharing it with another person? Did you and Sara forget that I loved him, too, or did it just not matter?”

Dinah backed up until she bumped into some shelving set in the wall, but Laurel wasn’t done. It seemed she’d unwittingly broken a dam holding five years of questions and accusations at bay.

“I follow my heart plenty of other places, too, you know? Like to the bars, to drag my father home since he can’t make it back by himself even while he’s wishing I was the one in the ocean instead of Sara. Or when I did work at CNRI, because God knows I wasn’t following a paycheck!” Laurel breathed in and out once harshly, her hands going up to her temples. To Dinah, it looked like she wanted to scream.

“Laurel, I- I’m sorry. If I’d known…”

Laurel let out a bitter laugh. “Well, how could you, mom? You weren’t here.” She walked away into the kitchen, but stopped and leaned against the counter to look at them both again. “Look, I have a friend working at the Chinese Embassy. I’ll send dad her information, and you can ask for her help with your photo as a favor to me. But the next time you come over, try calling first. Send a postcard, maybe.”

She pushed off the counter and walked to the back door, slamming it behind her and leaving a complete silence and stillness in the room.

Quentin was staring at the floor, whether out of disgust with her or shame over the things Laurel had said about him, Dinah wasn’t sure. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

“Let’s, uh… let’s give her some space. You- you got somewhere to stay?”

Dinah shook her head. Laurel’s old apartment had had a spare room and been in a much safer neighborhood. She wasn’t comfortable staying here even if her eldest had offered, but it seemed the polite young lady they had raised was gone, an angry woman who refused to mince her words in her place.

Her ex guided her out the front door with one hand lightly resting on her elbow, as if afraid to touch her fully.

“Well, we’ll find you something,” Quentin said.

Something turned out to be Quentin’s apartment, where she stayed in the guest room at her own insistence. She could see him swallow back the pain and injured pride.

Dinah couldn’t help fearing that Laurel had been right; their family was broken and finding Sara might not be the easy fix she’d hoped it to be.

---

Laurel paced the small lot behind her home in agitation, heart pounding still. It had been so much of what she’d wanted to say for so long — but what was going to happen now?

She’d only just agreed to try mending fences with her father again. Would he be angry with her for what she’d said? Even if it had been the truth.

And her mother. She’d probably just thrown any chances of reconciliation out the window, but why should it be up to her to make amends with a woman who hadn’t bothered to be in her life for five years? She was only here now because of Sara anyway, and she’d likely be gone the minute she found out one way or the other if Sara was alive. If her sister was really alive, maybe her dad would leave, too. The three of them could get along happily being a family together without her.

Laurel had told Oliver once that she was nobody in Starling City now that she’d lost her job as a lawyer to make trouble. He’d disagreed, but the proof was in her sitting room that she had always been a nobody. To the people that should’ve mattered, anyway.

Laurel had always hoped Sara just hadn’t been thinking about her when she got on the boat. That she’d simply been caught up in the euphoria. But to know that their mother had directly appealed to her however briefly on Laurel’s behalf, and that Sara had just ignored that?

God, she’d defended her sister from bullies in school who’d accused her of trying to steal their boyfriends, only for her sister to turn around and do it to her. And it took two, she knew that. But had Sara even felt a sliver of guilt over it all?

She had so many questions for a sister she would never get the answers from. In some ways, like her mother, she was haunted by ghosts.

“Laurel?”

She looked up and to her left. Anita was standing out on the tiny back patio she and Jerome had, an afghan wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hey. Um, what’s up?”

“Heard some shouting. Was kind of impressed you were managing to have a domestic with only one person.”

Laurel grimaced. “I wasn’t alone. My parents decided to drop by unannounced.”

“Ah, family.” Her neighbor nodded, then gestured her over with an arm. “Feel free to hide out here. We can work on your sewing some more.”

Laurel glanced at her back door once before walking across. “You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nah, Jerome’s out with some friends. I was meeting some of the Salon girls for drinks later, but Izzy’s son came down with something, and it just sort of fell through. You know, canceling plans feels almost better than making them.”

Laurel nodded. “I was always more of a ‘don’t make any plans in the first place’ kind of girl.”

Anita hummed as she got down two glasses from her kitchen cabinet, then grabbed a bottle of red out of the fridge.

“I found some fabric I thought we could add to the inside of one of your jackets. Make it more fun.” She passed Laurel one glass and set hers and the bottle down before rummaging in her supplies. “See, it’s got flowers!”

Laurel felt herself smile. “Yeah. They look like some kind of hibiscus.” It was hard to tell what kind since they were white lines against a hot pink background, but she was getting better at picking out the shapes at least.

They settled on the floor of the sitting room with their wine and their respective work. Laurel could see why Anita did so much sewing. It sort of demanded a concentration that allowed someone to tune out whatever they didn’t want to think about.

Though, halfway through their cups, Anita did ask, “So, is everything gonna be okay after your fight?”

Laurel sighed. “I guess. It’ll probably just go back to the way it was, unless they miraculously do find Sara — my sister.”

Anita nodded. “The girl on the boat? I remember they talked about her on the news when billionaire boy came back.”

“Yeah. Well, because he came back, my mom’s convinced Sara’s still out there, too, and came to us after five years of no contact asking for our help. I… kind of let her have it.”

“I’d hope so. What, she never even called? Checked in?”

Laurel shook her head before finishing off her drink. She held her glass out and Anita refilled it. “But she had plenty to say about my current situation.”

“They always do.”

“And who is she to come in after all these years and judge? Apparently she just assumed I’d be fine. Well, she didn’t do anything to make sure I would be.”

“Something tells me you haven’t been fine for a long time,” Anita observed, and Laurel paused in her next stitch.

“You know, of all the people in my life, I think you’re the first person who’s ever guessed that.”

“You should’ve got yourself therapy while you still had the insurance coverage, hon.”

Laurel met Anita’s eyes and snorted. Her friend soon started laughing with her. They kept laughing until Laurel’s sides hurt and she started listing to the side a little.

She calmed down with a few deep breaths and said. “Well, it’s too late for that, but this helps.”

“Good.”

They each pulled their work back towards them and began anew.

She stayed later than she’d meant to at Anita’s and between the two of them they finished a bottle of wine. As a result, Laurel woke up later than she intended, groggy and hungry. Opening her fridge made her aware that she’d run out of milk which meant no scrambled eggs, one of the few dishes she was starting to perfect.

It’d be easier to run down and grab a breakfast sandwich from Sammy’s, but it’d be cheaper in the long run to get the milk and be able to make herself breakfast for the next week. With a sigh, Laurel shoved her feet in her shoes and left her apartment.

As Laurel approached the corner store she heard the staccato of a hammer hitting a nail. To her growing confusion, as she walked around, she spotted the shopkeeper nailing boards to the windows on the side.

“Mr. Khan?”

“Ah, Laurel!” The man straightened up and wiped his hands on his apron. He hurried inside and she followed him to the counter as he asked, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m just grabbing some milk. Is everything okay?”

“I hope it will be. That’s all I can do, hope,” he replied with a sigh. “The gangs have been getting worse since all the business with Bertinelli and the Triad. Yesterday, a couple of young men came in here asking for a protection fee.”

“They’re trying to start a racket?” Laurel asked with a frown.

“Seems that way. They tell me I have twenty-four hours to come up with the fee.” He wrung his hands in his apron and smiled ruefully. “I’m barely covering my overhead, and they expect me to have more money.”

“Did you try the police?”

“There’s no evidence of a crime, they said. So they want me to wait for these boys to come and destroy my store.”

Laurel shook her head, disgusted. It was so typical of everything going on. And everything she had resolved to help stop the other night.

She turned away from the counter, thinking it over as she retrieved the milk from the cooler. “Mr. Khan, did they say what time they’d be here?”

“Night. But I’ll be closing early. I do not want anyone hurt. I’m glad you came by today in the daytime.”

“Me too.” She wouldn’t have known anything about it otherwise. Laurel took her change and receipt as he handed them to her, then grabbed the jug as well. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Laurel quick-marched home. As it stood to her mind, she had three options: try reaching out to her father to see if he could persuade a couple officers to change their beat for the night, call Oliver and hope he was willing to suit up so soon after what happened to Mr. Merlyn, or take care of things herself. Which was what she had decided she was going to do, wasn’t it?

Laurel put the milk away and went back into her room, searching through her closet. What could she use to cover up? Some hats, a couple hoodies, a ski mask from back when she used to accompany Oliver and Tommy to Aspen.

Oliver had made do with a ski mask before. Why couldn’t she do the same?

It wouldn’t be enough to just threaten them into going away. Laurel needed weapons. She had a baseball bat and her fists. Maybe not the best odds, but it was better than nothing. And bringing her own gun would be tantamount to just leaving her ID there for the police to find. If the police even bothered to show up.

The sun sank lower in the sky as Laurel paced her apartment like some kind of caged animal. Could she do it? If she did, was it just proof she’d really lost it?

If she did nothing, Mr. Khan could lose everything. It was that thought that finally pushed her out of her door.

She came around from the side of the store, trying to stay out of the lamplight as she pulled the ski mask down over her face. There was no one out front.

Just as she started to lose her nerve again, she picked up the sounds of laughter and loud talking. Four young men with rocks and bricks came down the street, making no secret of their approach.

If she hesitated, they’d start throwing their projectiles. Laurel drew in a breath, pushed away from the wall, and stepped around the corner. The men gradually slowed to a stop as they caught sight of her.

“Hey.”

They stared at her for a minute or so, a couple sniggers breaking out.

“What’s your deal, lady?” One called out.

“My deal is that you’re attacking an innocent man’s livelihood to extort him for your own gain. That’s a crime at the state level.”

None of them seemed to know what to do with that.

“So what?”

She raised the bat meaningfully. That got loud guffaws of laughter for her trouble.

“Khan too cheap to call the Hood for help?”

“I’m not here for anyone but myself.” Her voice and limbs remained steady, but underneath that her heart was hammering so loudly she didn’t know how they all couldn’t hear it. Was she really going to do this? Assault someone in an act that decidedly couldn’t be called self defense?

A rock was thrown, and Laurel ducked on instinct. It smashed against the wall of the shop, narrowly missing a window. She swore under her breath. This wasn’t about keeping herself safe.

A man walked up to her in a swaggering manner, clearly not taking her seriously. Laurel screwed up her nerves and struck him in the chest with the bat.

He staggered back with a yell. She adjusted her hold on the bat, feeling the pulse of her heart in her ears as she readied herself the meet the others now running towards her.

It was a flurry of swings and kicks, everything she remembered from self defense and everything she’d learned from Ted the past few weeks. Like Sara’s old bullies, these boys didn’t have a refined fighting form; they had strength and size on their side. Laurel couldn’t do much about her height, but she’d gotten plenty stronger since her school days.

She was struck in the back and nearly dropped her bat but managed to keep her grip. Laurel growled in the back of her throat, whirling around and swinging it into her attacker’s gut. He grunted and fell back. 

One of them tried to grab for her ski mask, and she elbowed him in the face. The other two backed up as he fell and she raised the bat again.

“Still think this is worth it?” Laurel asked.

“She’s crazy!”

“Bitch!”

Laurel took great, heaving breaths as she watched them all stagger and run away into the night. The inside of the ski mask was damp with condensation, and her back was starting to throb with a dull pain — but she felt exhilarated.

She’d done it. She’d really done it. Protected this shop all on her own. No one had even had to die.

She held in the impulse to squeal and placed a hand to her back when it gave a particularly painful twinge. She was going to need to stop by Mr. Khan’s tomorrow for some over-the-counter pain meds.

But as far as she was concerned, worth it? Oh, yeah.

---

She didn’t show up the next two days and when she did, it was with a limp she was trying her best to disguise.

“Rough night?” Ted asked as he passed by her at the punching bag. 

Laurel nodded. “Tripped over a curb coming home. Didn’t see it in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.” He kept walking but didn’t really move on.

Ted watched his student with a careful eye. There was something different, alright. A part of him was afraid to look into what it was; a part of him thought he already knew the answer.

And if he did, what could he do about it? He wasn’t the type to call the cops on his students, and anyway if he did what was to stop them thinking he had something to do with it? He’d been let off before, but Ted knew his past wasn’t as distant as he might like.

People got into fights all the time. It didn’t have to mean anything. Even if he could see the gleam in her eye, the spring to her step in spite of the injury. Even if he knew in his heart this wasn’t going to be a one-time occurrence.

But there’d been nothing in the news yet. No reason for him to think anything of it. He’d just have to keep watching and be ready to intervene sooner this time, if she went the same way Isaac did.

God, he hoped not. Because despite his current misgivings, he liked this girl.

---

Oliver kept on with his mission. He had to. Not only was it his father’s dying wish, but if he stopped now people might suspect it had something to do with Mr. Merlyn’s condition. That somehow, he meant something more to the Hood than just a person he hadn’t managed to save from the corruption of this city.

He went back to the list, going tougher on the billionaires and their lackeys that held his city in a chokehold than ever before. 

That meant less time at home. As always, Digg had some objections.

“Don’t you think you should take an early day sometime, Oliver? Check in with your family?”

“Thea and my mother are as fine as they will be,” he replied in the middle of a workout. It was his mother he was trying to avoid more than his sister, truth be told.

“And what about you?”

“I’m fine. I see people. I just had lunch with Laurel the other day.”

“So the one person you’re supposed to be keeping your distance from for appearances sake, you’ve been hanging out with.”

Oliver shrugged helplessly.

“You taking McKenna out anytime soon?”

He shook his head. “We talked over the phone yesterday. Decided to call it quits. She’s busy, I’m…”

“The reason she’s busy,” Diggle finished.

“Yeah, and that was probably a sign it wasn’t going to last.” He gave up on the workout and turned to face his friend. “Look, I know you worry about me, John, but this is how things have to be for now.”

They both looked up at the ceiling at the sound of yelling. It wasn’t totally abnormal for Tommy to raise his voice with the contractors, but he thought he recognized the second voice as well. Oliver sighed.

“It never rains but it pours,” Digg remarked.

“I’ll be right back.” Oliver took the stairs two at a time and slipped into the back of the club. Sure enough, it was his sister he’d been hearing.

“So? I’ve been arrested, Tommy. Does that mean I couldn’t get hired here?”

“No, of course not.”

“So what separates my crimes from his?” Thea demanded. “Is it cause I’m rich enough and connected enough that I got off with community service instead of juvie?”

“No!”

Oliver stepped forward to make his presence known. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Thea whirled around as Tommy gave a put upon sigh. “Speedy here wants me to give one of the troublemakers she calls friends a job at the club.”

“Roy’s not one of my old friends,” Thea said when Oliver raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t do drugs. He just has a bit of a reputation.”

“Yeah, with the police,” Tommy added.

“You try living by yourself in the Glades from childhood and not having a record with the police,” Thea shot back.

“There are programs!” Tommy stated, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “Charities, donation drives, ways for people without means to get what they need. You literally volunteer at a legal aid office for people without money, Thea.”

“And you should see all the people we still don’t help,” Thea remarked while crossing her arms.

“I can see you’re still talking to Laurel,” Tommy returned with a grin that wasn’t the least bit kind.

“So what if I am?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “You know, on the island, I didn’t have any money.” He didn’t miss the way both Thea and Tommy’s eyes widened at the mention of Lian Yu. “And there wasn’t anywhere to pay for anything. You had to just take what you needed.”

“Yeah, well that’s- that’s different, Ollie,” Tommy excused him. “You had to do what you needed to survive.”

“Exactly. No matter where they are, people are going to do what they have to to survive.”

He noticed Thea’s lips curve up in a smile.

“The least we can do is give them a chance to try a better way, Tommy. I’m not saying put him in charge of the register. But if this Roy is serious about wanting honest work, then he can start as a busser.”

“You really mean that, Ollie?” Thea asked.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

She hurried to him and gave him a tight hug, then headed for the door. “Great! Thank you so much. I’m gonna go tell Roy right now!”

Oliver smiled after his sister, then turned to look back at Tommy who seemed far more subdued. “Sorry. I know hiring is your area.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your club,” his friend remarked. He looked up and said. “Which is why I have to resign.”

Oliver reeled back a little in shock. “What?”

“It’s not anything to do with you,” Tommy assured him with a wave of his hand. “Just… Merlyn Global.”

“You’re going to start at the company?” He tried to keep the shock out of his voice. Tommy had never expressed any interest in joining the corporate giant.

But his friend nodded. “With my father in the hospital, I need to start learning more about the company. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me in giving me this job, Ollie. It’s taught me a lot.”

“Well, hopefully it’s taught you enough to get a good start there.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No. I should have realized this was something you needed to do.” He took a couple steps to close the distance between them and reached out to Tommy’s shoulder. “Your dad would be really proud to know you’re continuing his legacy.”

A brief smile flitted across Tommy’s lips. “Let’s hope I actually can.”

They both moved in for a hug. Tommy held on just as tightly as him. Then with a pat on the back apiece, they let go.

“I’ll still see you around,” Tommy promised.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

With that, Oliver was left alone in the club. He walked over to the bar top, where Tommy had clearly been organizing some papers in preparation for him. He’d have to find the time to look through them, and soon.

In some ways, he would sorely miss Tommy’s presence and help around the club. On the other hand, it was hard to be around him right now without the guilt eating away at him. He took the papers into Tommy’s little office at the back and noticed a wilting pot of alstroemerias sitting in the corner.

One thing was for sure. Diggle probably wouldn’t like the fact that yet another person would be in his life less.

[randochris]

Persona 4 Bonds of Reality Chapter 2

Yu could feel his body fly through the end of the portal that led to this “new world.” He braced his body for wherever he and Nanako stopped. The wind that pushed everyone through the TV had faded, and Yu opened his eyes to see a vague shape ahead of him. Before his eyes could adjust and make it out, he felt his body launched like he was in a cannon. Keeping his arms tight around Nanako, Yu landed on his back with a dull thud. Blades of grass brushed against his head and neck. All Yu could hear at that moment was Nanako’s whimpers.

“B-Big Bro, are we done flying now?” Nanako managed to say.

Before he could answer, Yu then heard the low groans of his friends as they stirred around him. He released Nanako of his protective hug.

“W-Whoever’s hand that is on my ass, please move it,” muttered Kanji, trying to move his limbs.

“Sorry Kanji-kun…” Naoto shook her head, loose grass flying from her hair.

Kanji yelped and hurried to his feet. His cheeks were as red as strawberries as he patted his backside.

Yosuke was already back up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. “Dammit, what WAS that just now? We…we’re not dead, right?”

Teddie answered Yosuke’s question by pinching his thigh, which earned the Junes mascot a slap on the hand.

“Q-Quit it!” Yosuke snapped.

“Everyone, I don’t think we’re in Inaba right now,” Yukiko groaned.

The fact that the group could see and feel grass was a red flag. But there were also numerous trees around them with a warm breeze rustling the leaves. The sun was starting to set, and it would make for a pleasant moment under other circumstances. Chie quickly asked an important question.

“We’re not in the TV world, are we?” Chie rubbed a bruise on her forehead, looking at the back of Yosuke’s head.

Teddie sniffed at the air. “It definitely doesn’t feel like it…huh! There’s no Shadows around! Not for miles!”

Rise nodded, with a visor over her face. She had summoned her Persona, Kouzeon, and was actively scanning their surroundings. “I do detect other people around…though their energy is different.”

Rise’s friends were eerily quiet, all staring at her with their mouths agape.

“W-What’s wrong? I…” That’s when it struck Rise. “H-How did I summon my Persona?!”

“Teddie just said this isn’t the TV world! So how can we-?!” Chie started to ramble when she noticed Nanako. The young girl’s eyes were wide with amazement.

“Aw crap. Awwwww crap. How…how are we going to explain this?” Yosuke harshly whispered to Yu.

Yu turned his head to his left. “I think we should worry about them first.”

Bewildered, Yosuke looked where Yu’s head was turned and yelled out in surprise.

Sitting in front of the group was a gathering of people, though the trees made it difficult to make out any distinguishable features.

“Hey, uh, Yu-kun? Is this where we came out?” Yukiko pointed to a portable projector set up. It seemed as if the Investigation Team interrupted movie night.

“It…might be.” Yu noticed how chillingly quiet the strangers were. “Maybe we should discuss this somewhere else.”

“Everyone, I found our shoes!” Teddie was holding the shoes everyone took off back at the Dojima residence’s front door in his arms.

“I didn’t even notice we only had socks on our feet…” Yosuke muttered.

Everyone hurried off, trying to put their shoes on. As they left the strangers, Yu could hear faintly, “Wow, those special effects were awesome!”

 It didn’t take much walking to find out that Yu and the gang were in a public park. The street lights were lighting up, casting a soft glow on their surroundings as they strolled on the stone path.

“On the bright side, this place doesn’t look to be hostile,” Chie commented.

“But who knows how long that’ll last. Did anyone hear what was said on the TV before we were dragged in?” Naoto asked. When everyone nodded (except for Nanako, who was still amazed by the appearance of Rise’s Persona), Naoto continued, “’Stop them…interfering with…shape…the world.’ Were those words a plea for help or something else?”

“I’m surprised you could hear that, Naoto, I couldn’t hear a thing,” Kanji grumbled.

“Actually, I’m with Kanji-kun. I couldn’t hear it either,” Yukiko said.

“It wasn’t Rise-chan’s TV show, right? I didn’t think Christmas specials were that intense,” Kanji quipped.

“What a time to interrupt though,” Rise said, pouting. “Do you think anyone else’s TVs went to static?”

“I don’t know, Rise-chan. It could’ve been especially for us. Though I don’t know if this world operates like in the TV world...” Naoto spoke her last sentence to herself, trying to find any clues.

“Should we try asking someone?” suggested Chie. The number of people around in the park was sparse right now. And who knows who could be roaming the park at this time.

Nanako tapped Yu’s arm. “Big Bro, what did Rise-chan make appear out of nowhere earlier?”

Yu froze in place. Now would probably be the best time to let Nanako know about the Investigation Team’s powers, with no one besides them to be seen at the moment. But it was less about Nanako accepting the existence of Personas and more about her actually understanding what they represented. Yu caught the nervous expressions of his friends. They remembered the story of Yu trying to tell Dojima about the TV world and how well that went. Granted, the timing couldn’t have been worse than it was. Then again, Nanako, as mature as she has gotten, is still a child with an open mind. It’d be insulting her intelligence to assume she couldn’t handle the information.

Yu pursed his lips and thought for a moment, to organize the information in his head. “It’s…called a Persona.”

“Persona? What’s that?”

“It’s a bit tricky to explain, Nanako-chan. The easiest way to try and think about it is that they’re like…guardians. They help protect us from danger and bad people. But they also help shield us from the troubles of everyday life.” Yu placed a hand on Nanako’s shoulder. “It’s like when you tried to hide how sad you were when Dojima-san wasn’t around to be with you. We all have our own Persona. We just couldn’t use them back in Inaba.”

Nanako closed one eye and looked up, trying to piece things together. It seems mentioning Dojima really made it clearer.

“So… you can control your Personas and use them to help people?” Nanako asked.

Yu nodded. “That’s one way of saying it.”

Yosuke clapped Yu on the shoulder, everyone else looking relieved that Nanako was getting the hang of things. “Actually, Yu can use multiple Personas!”

Yu chuckled, expecting Yosuke to egg him on to show off. “We’ll show you later, Nanako. Right now, we should probably be finding out where we are.”

“So, even if we’re not in trouble right now, it’s still an emergency. I think I get it now. Thanks, Big Bro!” Nanako cheerfully chirped.

Yu was about to smile at her but then he felt a rumbling feeling in his stomach that Nanako noticed. “S-Sorry, Nanako-chan.”

With everyone starting to come over with hunger, the group ended up agreeing that they were most likely nowhere near Inaba, let alone Japan OR their world, that the first thing they should do is find a place to stay for the night. No one believed this world would accept yen as currency, however...Nevertheless, everyone continued on the stone path out of the park and the thickness of the trees, where they could hear the sounds of traffic.

The sights, lights, and sounds of a cosmopolitan city were opened up to Yu and the gang. Everyone were intoxicated by the rather breathtaking architecture and the well-kept streets. Okina City was nice but this was like the world’s biggest cities that they’ve seen pictures of in their schoolbooks. Signs were colorfully lit up, beckoning the group to approach their establishments.

But then came the first curiosity when it came to the city.

Walking past was a woman in a red tight dress…who looked like a lioness. At least, she looked like a half-person, half-lioness. But was it a costume? There were no obvious signs of a costume. Soon, more inhabitants were going about their lives, a mix of humans and half-human, half-animal creatures. There were certainly a wide variety of mammals, dressed as any normal person would back in Inaba…

All the new people certainly drew Teddie’s attention…who just now was back in his signature bearsuit, save for a couple of alterations. The circus-like fabric was now replaced with a red jacket, white t-shirt, and red pants. His blue fur was the same as ever but Teddie certainly looked like he was attempting to dress to impress.

“Huh? Hey, Ted, when did you have the time to make that outfit?” Kanji asked, inspecting every stitch of Teddie’s clothes. “WHERE did you get this outfit?”

With a cheeky giggle, Teddie pretended to be unaware. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is just what I usually wear!”

Kanji seemed more absorbed in the material Teddie used to even care. “T-This fabric is amazing. Where did you get it from?”

“Junes, of course! The one stop shop for all your household needs!” Teddie assumed a pose as if he was trying to lure people into the department store even though it was nowhere around.

Yosuke bore a sharp glare at Teddie’s new clothes. Yu had a feeling what Yosuke was thinking about.

“Teddie, how much did it take to create that outfit?” Yosuke’s voice had a very chilling tone to it…

Teddie looked like he realized what Yosuke was really wanting to know. The bear twiddled his paws together and tried to act like he didn’t hear Yosuke. “I just thought that if a mascot keeps the same look for too long, people will get bored of it and want something new so I’m getting…ahead…of the game….?”

Yosuke was now dangerously close, almost nose-to-nose with Teddie. “Did it happen to cost 25000 yen for fabric, a sewing machine, and snacks oh so many snacks?”

Even for a bearsuit, the sweat was pouring from Teddie’s face. The air was very tense and thick before Teddie attempted to run away.

“OH NO YOU DON’T! GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SNEAK!” Yosuke hustled after Teddie, who suddenly ran away from the road to avoid the traffic. The two were now chasing each other in a circle.

Out of nowhere, a hulking figure appeared, grabbing Teddie and Yosuke and picking them off the ground by their jackets. Nanako ran behind Yu, and everyone prepared to defend their friends. Yosuke’s rage turned into fear as his limbs flailed around.

“O-OH CRAP, A MONSTER’S GOT ME!!” Yosuke yelled.

“NOOOOOO, I’M TOO SNAZZY TO DIE LIKE THIS!” Teddie cried.

“W-Will you two stop squirming!” The figure grunted as she was trying to calm down Yosuke and Teddie. Upon a closer look from the group, the figure was one of the animal-like citizens of this world and wasn’t attacking the pair. She bore a resemblance to a European badger, thick black lines adorning her eyes, making her brown eyes stand out from her face. But what was really making her stand out was her size. She towered over the group, including Kanji, and she appeared to be physically powerful, having picked up Yosuke and Teddie with ease.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just don’t want an accident to happen!” The badger continued her attempts to settle down the Junes duo. She nodded towards the busy roads to emphasize her point to everyone. After some heavy breaths from Yosuke and Teddie, the badger set the two back down on the ground. She sighed and placed her hands on her hips.

“You two almost became splattered on the road…” The badger took a moment to fix her short white hair. “…And why were you chasing this poor little kid?” Her description of Teddie almost made Yukiko go into one of her infamous laughing fits.

           Teddie, not wanting to lose face in front of the girls, stamped his foot and tried to growl, but it didn’t sound intimidating in the slightest. “I’m no little kid, I’m a young man, blooming with youth and beauty!”

The badger’s mouth went slightly agape and tilted her head at Teddie.

Yu quickly stepped in. “I’m sorry, it was a money issue between the two of them. But thank you for saving them, Miss…?”

The badger then looked even more off put just from Yu asking for her name. “Bailey. Bailey Rosworth. I’m…surprised you don’t know who I am. My face is all over the place nowadays that it’s hard to not be recognized.”

“We’re not exactly from around here, Miss Rosworth. It’s hard to believe but we’re from a different world,” Naoto explained.

“Yeah. We…uh…got sucked into a TV and we ended up in that park over there. We don’t really know where we are,” added Chie. The gang quickly told Bailey their story (at least of the past couple hours.) Their words didn’t really seem to faze Bailey. She casually said, “Ah, yeah, you were in Haleigh Park. Haleigh is the capital city of Aldwynne, the country you’re in now.”

“You…took all of that surprisingly well,” Rise commented.

“I’ve seen my share of weird stuff. That, and if you really did live here, you’d know that this wouldn’t be the place to wear heavy jackets.” She nodded at the winter clothes that the group were still wearing. “Though if you got sucked into a TV, you wouldn’t have been prepared anyway.”

Yu then quickly introduced himself, Nanako, and his friends to Bailey, who was appearing much more friendly than she was moments ago.

“So, Bailey, you said that your face is ‘all over the place nowadays.’ You’re a celebrity?” Rise asked.

Bailey smiled. In a moment of grandeur, she raised her arms and flexed them, showing her muscles. “None can match my hybrid style of professional wrestling! I am the Number One of the Global Wrestling Alliance!” Bailey laughed and stopped posing. “Yeah, I’m a celebrity.”

Teddie was already appearing infatuated with Bailey, though that was just usual Teddie.

“Whoa…how did you get so big?” Nanako had moved in front of Yu to get a better look at the wrestler.

“My mom’s taller than me so I guess I got it from her. She’s pretty world famous in her own right too.” Bailey scratched at her cheek for a moment. “I’m guessing you guys want to know how to get back but don’t have any money to stay somewhere for the night.”

Suddenly, wallets were being opened and yen was counted between everyone. If they were back in Inaba, Yu could’ve covered everybody’s food and hotel rooms for several months with how much yen he had in his wallet…it was enough to make Yosuke almost openly weep.

Bailey peered over at the banknotes and coins, tilting her head slightly. “Funny, these almost look like the money they use in Shen La…” Noticing everyone’s blank expression at what she said, she continued, “There are 6 main continents in my world. Aldwynne, where we are, Cordelia, Zirachi, Helcomb, Barostiano, and Shen La. I’ve been to each continent on wrestling tours so I’ve had to get used to trading whatever money I bring with me. Can I see one of those bills?”

Yu gave Bailey one of his bills. She studied it for a moment, feeling the material and looking at the images and writing. Her brow furrowed, reading the text on the currency.

“Yeah…this almost looks exactly like Shen La money…” Bailey gave the bill back to Yu. “I think to be on the safe side, I’ll help you out…” She frowned and folded her arms. “But to be sure, I want to feel confident about trusting you all.”

Bailey’s eyes sharpened. “Fight me. Prove to me that I can trust you.”

Sounds of confusion came from everyone, Yosuke proclaiming, “W-We just met you! And we don’t have a real reason to fight!”

Bailey snickered and then burst out in laughter. “I-I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if I could actually make you believe that. Besides, I doubt you’re going to pull anything when you have a little kid around.”

To make up for her badly-timed joke, Bailey offered to take the group on a quick shopping trip for new clothes, while she tried to make arrangements for housing in the meantime. Taking the lead, Bailey escorted the group to a shopping mall that was a few blocks away. Inside, it looked like someone packed Okina Station into a building with a lot of room to spare.

With more than enough clothing shops, the group almost split up immediately to head to whatever satisfied their tastes.

“WAIT!!” Bailey yelled, startling everyone with the force of her voice. “We want to stick together. I have money, but I’m not walking around with all of it in my pocket. That, and I don’t want anyone getting lost.”

“It’s okay. We have our cell phones,” said Yosuke. A thought creeped into his mind that numbed his body. “W-We…don’t have our chargers either…” Yosuke pulled his phone out and checked the battery power, when something caught his eye. “Hey guys? Didn’t Rise’s TV special start at 8 pm?”

After confirmation, Yosuke’s hands shook. “Then…why the hell hasn’t it changed from 8:02?”

Bailey frowned. “8:02 pm? It’s 5:15 pm.”

A quick look at everyone else’s phones bore the time of 8:02 pm. There was no signal available nor did the keypads do anything.

“Are your phones bricked or something? Maybe you do need new ones. Or at least hang on to those until you get back home,” Bailey suggested.

Naoto shook her head. “If our phones are not functioning, I doubt we will get a hold of anyone while we’re here. As you said, it’d be better to keep our phones until we return.”

After a lengthy shopping trip that gave the Investigation Team enough clothes to last a week (Teddie had to be stopped from buying the most expensive poofy shirts), the group waited outside of the mall for the people Bailey was talking to earlier.

“Yo! Bailey!” A young male voice called out.

“About time, you guys,” Bailey huffed, having checked the phone’s time.

Three figures approached, a pair of wolves who appeared to be brother and sister and a male tiger, wearing a hat like Naoto’s.

The male wolf, who greeted Bailey, folded his arms. “We would’ve gotten here sooner but SOMEBODY had to finish watching the new episode of-“            The tiger also folded his arms, looking away defiantly. “Chris, it was the pinnacle of the Bad Moon Rising storyline.”

Bailey sighed, rubbing at the back of her head. “Everyone. These are, well, some of my friends. Chris Hayabusa, his sister Cassie, and Shojira Hyujimoto.” Everyone exchanged greetings. “It’s not the whole ensemble but you’ll meet everyone eventually.”

Bailey walked towards her friends and faced the Investigation Team. “All right, here’s the plan. Since you can’t pay for a hotel, we’ve decided to let you stay with us for the time being. But none of us have enough room for all of you. If you don’t mind, we could pair you all up and decide who goes where.”

Cassie spoke up, surveying the Investigation Team. “Shojira and I do live with other people but we’ve already worked things out. And came up with cover stories in case they ask where you came from. Big bro lives by himself but I still live with my mom and dad.” (Nanako quietly giggled.)

Shojira rubbed the tip of his right ear. “And my sister and I live in a dojo. So I hope-“

“DOJO?!” Chie hurriedly ran up to Shojira, eyes sparkling with delight. “Do you have a wise legendary master who will only take the best students?!”

“Uhh…sure?” Shojira looked unsure on how to deal with Chie’s energy. In fact, she was shaking with excitement.

Yukiko raised her hand. “I volunteer to go with Chie.”

Chie squealed, “We can turn Yukiko into a deadly warrior of the fan!”

Yosuke muttered, “I think she’s already scary enough without the kung-fu training.”

“With that, 3 more spots remain. Anyone have any preferences?” Bailey asked.

Nanako wrapped her arms around Yu’s left forearm. “I have to stay with Big Bro no matter what.”

Yu smiled but then glanced at his friends that had yet to pair up. Nanako enjoyed being around all of them but he didn’t know who he should pick.

Rise stepped over to Yu and Nanako. “Do you mind if I go with you and Big Bro, Nanako-chan?”

Nanako’s eyes lit up with delight and nodded quickly. Yosuke shrugged and looked at Teddie, knowing full well that the hopeless romantic would have no shot at being alone with Naoto. Plus, Kanji’s face was starting to grow redder as he took sideways looks at Naoto.

“Me and Teddie will go together,” Yosuke said.

Sure enough, Kanji’s cheeks turned a deep red, a fact not lost on Naoto. She let out a small chuckle. “That leaves you and I, Kanji-kun.”

“Y-Yeah…looks like it…” Kanji scratched his cheek, taking a small gulp.

After a few moments of deliberating, it was decided that Yu, Rise, and Nanako would go along with Bailey, Yosuke and Teddie with Chris, and Kanji and Naoto with Cassie. With the whole group giving each other new contact information, they all split up so they could finally get some rest…