#that was his last name right? i’m too lazy to double-check so hopefully it is

[thefandomenchantress]

Okay, so I’ve had a thought. When Teruko and Ace talk near the elevator in chapter 1, Ace lists off various fears he has. And some of them are normal, like spiders. Or sharp things in general (That one I could make an angsty theory about, but carrying a knife across the kitchen gives me a strangely high amount of anxiety so honestly I kind of understand). But the third one sorta mystified me.

Now, this line could simply be for comedic effect, since it’s so strangely specific compared to spiders and sharp things. And it is kinda relatable, I constantly worry about getting run over when crossing the street.

But I had an idea. My idea has no evidence and is basically a shot in the dark, but I wanted to share it.

Ace used to have a friend named Taylor. They aren’t friends anymore, and most people theorize he and Ace had a falling out, or Taylor died.

I bet you can see where I’m going with this. What if that was what happened to Taylor? A hit-and-run of sorts. That would explain why it’s one of the first fears Ace thinks of, since I’m sure something like that would scar you forever.

But again. I have no evidence, it’s just a random thought I had and wanted to share.

[five-rivers]

Cold Case

So, this is a continuation of Interview With a Ghost, my corpse AU.  Sort of.  Lots of outsider perspective.  

But, I’m too lazy to hunt down the tumblr links.  So.  Here’s the AO3 link to the series.  

.

.

.

McGee braced himself before getting out of his car and walking into the precinct.  He’d heard all the jokes before, all the mindless digs at his name, and he liked to think that he’d grown a thick skin in response, but part of him still flinched every time.  

Plus, there was a reason he’d been sent to Amity Park.  That reason being the incredibly suspicious crime rate.  That is, the just shy of nonexistent crime rate.  Also, the billionaire mayor that had popped up out of nowhere.  And the high road repair and park maintenance bills.  

Oh, yeah, and the giant murder investigation that had just.  Disappeared.

The county wanted answers.  So, they sent McGee.  Of course, they didn’t tell the Amity Park Police Department that.  As far as they knew, he was just a transfer. Someone being shifted from one department to another.  

So, yeah.  Bracing.  Just like the wind.  Ouch, it was cold.  McGee wrapped his coat more closely around himself and began jogging through the otherwise deserted parking garage.  

The… underground parking garage.  Wind?  

McGee stopped and turned in place, trying to see where the breeze could have possibly come from.  There weren’t exactly any windows down here.  

Feeling more cautious, but not knowing why, McGee made his way more slowly to the elevator door and hit the call button.  The doors opened immediately.  Inside, a speaker tried to play music, but what came out of it was mostly ear-tearing static.  

Well.  If APPD was getting paid off by a mob or the town was skimming from road funds, they certainly weren’t using their ill-gotten gains on the elevators.  

When the doors opened, McGee was hit with a blast of warm air and Christmas music.  He kept his face carefully blank.  It had only just become December, and the police station was… it was… Well. McGee would have to call it ‘decked out,’ no matter how much he abhorred the phrase.  

… Why were there so many menorahs?

“Hey, are you John McGee?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said McGee, turning to face a remarkably plain man in a button-down shirt and a pullover sweater.  

The man had a pair of novelty felt antlers on his head.  They were decorated with bells.  How unprofessional.

“I’m Collins.  We’ll probably be working together at some point.  Same department.”

“Homicide?”

Collins raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t know what you were told, but we don’t have enough homicides to warrant a dedicated homicide department.  We get a one or two mysterious deaths every month, but it always turns out to be, like, anaphylaxis or something.”  He brought a mug to his lips and sipped slowly.  “Mostly we do vice, theft, fraud, and missing persons. Not much of that last one, either. Oh, we had an arson one time.  But it turned out it wasn’t really arson. Anyway, let’s get you checked in, and hopefully Patterson will be here by the time Captain Jones is done with you.”

“Patterson?”

“My partner.  You know, you being here gives us an odd number of detectives.  That’s going to be weird.”  He sipped from his mug again.  “Maybe we’ll promote someone.  Not Cameron Daily, though.”  Collins stared into the middle distance.  “No. Not Cameron Daily.  Love that man. He’s got to stay in tech support.”

“The captain?” prompted McGee.  

“Hah.  Yeah. You have to brave the secretaries, first.”  Collins patted McGee on the shoulder, and McGee suppressed the impulse to shake him off. “Good luck.  At least this is going to be a quiet month, right?”

.

McGee spent what was probably far too much time pondering what Collins had meant by ‘it’s going to be a quiet month.’  Did the APPD’s arrangement with the local criminals (because there had to be an arrangement) include forewarning concerning the crimes they did deign to investigate?  Or did they have statistics that indicated December was a low-crime time for Amity Park?

Orientation was highly typical, as far as these things went.  The only oddity were the advertisements and promotional pictures for the local tourist trap tapped up all over half the captain’s office.  Was the man a fan?  Did he believe in that ghost nonsense?  Was it some kind of bizarre joke?

At least the Christmas plague hadn’t made it this far.

“Right, now that we’ve got that part out of the way, let’s move on.  We normally like an even number of detectives, but the county moved you over so fast we couldn’t get you a partner, and no one is retiring.”  Jones rolled his shoulders and fixed McGee with a very sharp gaze.  “Do you know why the county was so… insistent with your transfer?”

Ah.  So, the captain was suspicious.  Time to put that backstory to good use.  

“Honestly, sir, I embarrassed someone, and I think they just spun the wheel on how to get rid of me.”

“Mhm.  See, usually when they do that, they pick from departments that actually put in requests for extra personnel.  We haven’t.”

“I think the main concern was just to keep me away.”

“I see.”  The level of suspicion in the man’s eyes did not change.  “You’re going to be with Patterson and Collins until you get your feet under you and we decide what to do about the partner situation. If the county will even let us out another detective on payroll.  Consider yourself on probation as far as whatever it is you’re doing with the county. Don’t put my detectives in danger.”

“Sir—”

“Whatever excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it. Go talk to Collins.  I know you met him.  Patterson probably isn’t here yet.”

.

Collins stood next to a woman in a coat with a long dark braid.  Both of their backs were to McGee.  He could see that they were talking to one another, making tight little gestures with their hands near their chests.  All the other occupants of the room stared at them without a modicum of shame.  

“—until he sees his first fight?  We’re supposed to babysit him until January?  We won’t be able to talk about anything!”

“Well, if you’d been on time, maybe we could have convinced the captain not to—”

Someone behind McGee cleared their throat. Loudly.  Collins and the woman turned, sheepishly.  

“Oh.  McGee. McGee, this is Patterson. Patterson, this is McGee.  You’ll be working with us, apparently.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of your hair before too long,” said McGee.

“Don’t count on it.  How long have you been in town?” asked Patterson.  

“Only since yesterday.  Why?”

“We’re showing you around,” said Patterson, snatching the antlers from Collins’s head.  

“Consider it your last bit of freedom before you’re condemned to paperwork,” said Collins.  

.

Amity Park was odd, McGee decided.  

It wasn’t just the clashing but equally enthusiastic Halloween and Christmas decorations, the omnipresent construction, and the worrying number of holes in the road (really, there was no way the road repair budget was actually getting used on the roads).  There was something else.  Something McGee couldn’t put his finger on.  Something—

He did a double-take.  Were those two cosplaying the Ghostbusters?  Why?

How seriously did these people take their tourist trap nonsense?

“What are Jack and Maddie doing out?” asked Patterson.

“I don’t know,” said Collins.  He tilted his head to one side and pulled into a nearby convenience store parking lot.  “You’d think they’d be told; December is a quiet month.”

“Mhm.  Maybe they didn’t believe it?”

“They can be stubborn sometimes,” mused Collins. “But it would be nice if there was some action.”  He pulled the parking brake.  “You want to introduce McGee to the local celebrities?”

A look of indescribable disgust appeared on Patterson’s face.  “Why don’t you introduce them?”

“I did that last time.”

“No, you didn’t.  You rang their doorbell and then ran like the coward you are.”

Collins, without any hint of repentance, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“This is different,” she protested.  “This isn’t just any new resident.  This is a coworker.  A coworker who isn’t going to see that kind of action for a whole month.”

“Action?” asked McGee.  This felt perilously close to what he’d been tasked to find out.  

“You’ll find out in a month,” said Collins. “Assuming you last that long.”

McGee frowned, and decided to take another risk and prompt the pair further.  “I know you have a low crime rate here,” he said, “but I’m sure there will be something for us to investigate before the end of the month.”

“Well, yeah,” said Collins.  “We don’t get paid for doing nothing.”

There was a sharp rap on the window, and everyone jumped.  God. It was just some kid.  McGee put a hand over his heart and tried not to think too hard about the time he had almost been killed in his car by a dirty cop and his gangster friends.

Collins rolled the window down, letting in a gust of frigid wind.  

“Hi, detectives!” chirped the teen.  “I heard you got a new guy!”

Oh.  That was interesting.  Was the local gang using children as in-betweens?

“Yep,” said Patterson.  “This is McGee.  McGee, this is Danny, the only sane Fenton.”

Danny tipped his head to the side and squinted. “I think that title needs to go to Jazz.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you, but your sister is a lunatic,” said Patterson, completely serious.  

“Come on, you’re just saying that,” said Danny, staring openly at McGee.  

Did this kid blink?

“Anyway, I’ve introduced McGee to one Fenton, you get to do the others,” said Patterson, poking Collins in the ribs.

“Danny doesn’t count,” protested Collins, squirming. “He’s sane, like you said.”

“You’ll have to be fast.  Mom and Dad are like three blocks down the street chasing…”  He trailed off.  “Well, they think they’re chasing something, anyway.  Transient noise on their latest EMF reader.”  He rolled his eyes and finally blinked.  

“Think they might actually get anything?” asked Patterson.

“Nothing with a mind,” said Danny.  “Might have to play animal control soon, though.”  There was a loud crash and a squeal of rubber, followed by distant but still deafening engine noises.  Danny winced.  “Can you please give them a fine for driving around in that thing?”

“They have a special permit,” said Collins, shrugging.  “Straight from the mayor.  Nothing we can do.”

“I will bribe you to do something.”

McGee choked.

“With what?” asked Collins.  “You’re a penniless middle schooler.”

“Excuse you,” said Danny, crossing his arms. “You know I’m in high school.”

There was another crash.  

“Are you sure they haven’t found anything?” asked Patterson, leaning forward.  

“Absolutely positive,” said Danny.  He sighed.  “I should probably go, though.”

“Okay, have fun, Danny!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of introductions, Patterson,” grumbled Collins.  

.

“Alright,” said Collins, opening a narrow door and turning on the buzzing yellow light within.  “Your kingdom awaits!”  He gestured grandly, disrupting clouds of dust.  “You’ll be entering old cases into the system.  Did Cameron Daily show you how?”

McGee’s lips twisted at the memory of the computer tech.  “Yes,” he said.  

“Yeah, Cameron gets that reaction,” said Collins, thumping McGee on the back.  “If it makes you feel better, he’s usually in charge of keeping track of the cults. Did he tell you about the VHS evidence?”

“The cults?”

“Yep.  You’ll learn about those later.  VHS?”

“Yes, he told me how to handle the VHS.”

“Great.  So, Patterson and I will be working on case paperwork in the main room, if you have any questions, come get us, okay?”

“I will,” said McGee.  

Collins nodded.  “If we wind up being assigned a case, we’ll come get you.”  He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.  “The captain probably won’t give us anything today. Oh, and if Mayor Masters drops in, redirect him to the front desk.  There’s no reason for him to be back here.”

There was a good deal of hostility in Collins’ tone. Interesting.  

“Do you not get along with the mayor?”

“We get along fine,” said Collins.  “He just oversteps his authority, sometimes.”

“I… see.”

“Not yet you don’t,” said Collins, softly, before turning to walk away.  A “Good luck” was tossed casually over the man’s shoulder and seemed to echo in the air despite the hall being far too small for that to happen.  

McGee turned to his work and smiled.  They shouldn’t have left him alone with the records. This was where he did his best work. There was always a paper trail somewhere.  

He opened the department-issued laptop and brought up the digital filing system.  

It was odd, though.  He’d spent years in the police, and he’d never heard of Fenton & Foley Information Systems.  

.

The department computer filing system was a miracle.  McGee meant that completely, as a connoisseur of filing systems.  He wondered if he could get the county to adopt it, assuming it didn’t tie back to the mob or something equally unsavory.  

On the other hand, it was only a couple months old, by the looks of it.  It was, therefore, mostly empty, as compared to the almost infinite number of filing boxes in the record room.  

The record room was not well organized.  In fact, it was barely organized at all.  Several of the boxes looked like they’d been beaten with a bat, others were singed.  A few dripped with something sticky and green. One or two looked as though they’d been drenched in water and then left to dry in a dark, damp room.  Only about half of them were labeled.  

To top it off, towards the beginning he’d found a post-it that had said: Boxy, if you steal these again, I’m going to leave you in the thermos for a week.  -Phantom

The people here were way too into their tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they weren’t just tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they were a front.  

He’d put that on his list of things to investigate.

But first, first, he was going to find the records for the murder that was recently swept under the table.

The newest boxes, despite being reasonably intact and therefore unique, weren’t easy to find, but he was able to drag them out and sit down with his laptop.  He could enter as he searched, and thereby give the illusion that he was a completely normal transfer more credence.  

Except.

Except.  The records for that murder didn’t seem to exist.  Not even in the cold case box.

“Hey.”

McGee jumped.  Patterson was standing behind him, holding two paper coffee cups.  

“How’s it going?” she asked.  “I know these records are hell.”

“Fine,” he said.  

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”  He took the offered cup from her.  “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but when I was working up at county, I heard that you had a murder case here, recently?  You dug up a teen’s body?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Patterson was unperturbed.  “Yeah, that was pretty exciting.  Collins and I were on that.”

“I can’t seem to find the records for it.”

“Yeah.  Well, there wasn’t any foul play.”  Patterson shrugged.  

“Wasn’t he found buried in a public park?”

“Well, aren’t you informed,” said Patterson. She sipped her coffee aggressively through the plastic stirring straw.  

“So, you found an illegally buried teenager’s corpse and just… dropped it?”

“We investigated it,” said Patterson.  “There wasn’t anything there.  Case was cold even without that.”  Another long, aggressive sip.  She couldn’t possibly be getting any coffee up through that straw.  It had to be mostly air.  

This was the most bizarre intimidation tactic McGee had ever come across in his entire life.  This was saying something.  Once he’d worked with a man who’d pretend to have the flu during interrogations.  

“You should still have records for the investigation.”

Patterson shrugged.  “You’d have to ask Captain Jones about that.  Anyway, I brought a bunch of tapes for you, too.  You’ll have to rewind them by hand, though, when you finally get to them.”  Another sip. “Are you planning on doing the salvage boxes?”

“The what?”

“The salvage boxes.  The ones that got fished out of the lake.  Wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.  Just curious.”

“I’m- They were in a lake?  Why?”

“Stick around and find out,” said Patterson.  “Did Masters come bother you yet?”

“Mayor Masters?”

“The one and only,” said Patterson, raising her coffee in a mock toast.  

“Why would he come here?”

“Because you’re new, and theoretically a weak link. Oh, yeah.  One more thing.  I know your check-out time is in half an hour, but come back around eight, okay?”

“Why?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you hazing me?”

“That’s what the salvage boxes are for,” said Patterson.  “Come back at eight.  Bye.” She waved as she left.  

Great.  What was he supposed to do about that?

.

He didn’t go home after checking out. Instead, he walked around town.  Patterson and Collins’ tour had been… interesting. Not terribly informative.  They had given him an overview of various restaurants, ‘paranormal hotspots,’ and places where dumb kids gathered to experiment with drugs of dubious legality.  

But they had avoided certain parts of town.  McGee had noticed.  

True, some of that was likely coincidence, but McGee had never heard of a public cemetery that wasn’t the site of something shady. Sure, a good caretaker would chase off anyone messing around in daylight, but cemeteries and graveyards just attracted trouble.  Even if that trouble was just the local goth kids running around while high out of their minds.  

But this cemetery, evidently, is different. Because there’s an unholy amount of people there for something that supposedly hallowed ground.  Is this also part of the weird ghost-theme the place had going for itself?  Were those tourists?  In the graveyard?  

That seemed to be in remarkably poor taste.  

McGee pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and lengthened his stride.  This whole town was in poor taste.  

Oddly, everyone seemed to be gathered around the same grave.  Maybe it was a funeral?  No, the ground in front of the headstone was long since patted firm, and the headstone, while obviously fairly new, had some evidence of weathering even from a distance.

Had there been a celebration today?  Memorial Day wasn’t today, was it?  McGee always lost track of those fiddly little holidays.

Huh.  The headstone was blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to a nearby woman.  “Do you know who was buried here?”

“You… don’t know?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise.  

McGee grinned.  “I’m new in town, I’m afraid, and I just saw all these people here… I’m curious, I guess.”

“Oh,” said the woman.  She looked away, every part of her body language screaming that she was coming up with a story to feed him.  A lie.  Or, at least, deciding which lie to use.  “Well, there was a body found a few months ago?  No one ever identified him, so… He was buried here?  We just, um.  It was sad, you know?  You’ll probably hear more about it if you stick around.”

Despite almost everything she said being a statement, she still managed to make everything but the last sentence sound like a question.  

Even if it was a lie…

“I hadn’t, actually.  Can you tell me what happened?”

… Maybe it was just what McGee needed.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

here it is! the first part of UTCM!

wc: 4.8k

taglist | story masterlist

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

With clothes flying across the room, trying to make each article of clothing land in the target of a rectangle, you rummage through your closet, trying to find the specific piece of your most treasured clothing. 

One that meant something special to you. 

As you dig through your drawer, trying to find the thick, vintage tee your dad had given you (more like you stole it and never gave it back), your hand finally feels the familiar material that has brought you comfort and lots of compliments if you do say so yourself. 

With a proud ‘bingo’ escaping your lips, you’re not surprised that it’s the only shirt you folded and gently put into your suitcase. You looked around your room, finding the hurricane of clothing sprawled out on the floor and your bikini top on your lap shade. Laughing a bit, you drop to your knees and begin to pick up your clothes, stuffing it into the suitcase. 

You check the time and see that it’s five minutes to 9 AM and your phone rings on your bedside table, knowing you’re behind schedule. You quickly grab your phone, placing it between your shoulder and your ear, and continue grabbing your clothes. 

“Yellow?” 

“Honey, quit answering the phone like that.” You take the phone from your shoulder and put it at arms reach before sighing, knowing you should’ve looked at the caller ID. 

“Hello, mother. How are you on this fine morning?” Your voice changes from playful to proper tone only to tease her. 

“Oh, quit it. I was just calling to see if you were all packed and ready.” 

“Yup!” You say confidently, looking around your room as it says otherwise. Obviously, packing wasn’t your greatest talent. 

It was your best friend’s parent’s anniversary. Minny has informed you a month ago, knowing that you would procrastinate on packing, and to be fair, she was right. Packing wasn’t your favorite, and she knew that. Aww, my best friend knows me so well. 

You and Minny have been best friends since you were 7. You two met at school and were in the same class. Because of the two’s last names being right next to each other on the roll call, you were assigned to sit right next to her. Throughout the years in school, you had always remained close. Sure, you two have met other people and became friends with them, but nothing came as close as the bond you have with her. 

It was 20 years of eating at lunch together, never missing a day. Sleepovers. Day and night calls to gossip or vent. Laughs. Petty arguments. Crying over stupid boys and girls that broke your heart. Monthly ‘glo the fuck up’ day. Jogging in the park. Living life. And most importantly, love. 

Damn, we’re getting old. 

“I’m sad I can’t make it to Dan and Lina’s anniversary trip.” Your mother sighed over the phone. 

Yours and Minny’s family had practically become one big family when you both turned 10. With occasional sleepovers and meet ups at the mall, your parents had become really great friends with hers. 

“I know, Mom. But you practically see them everyday, so it’s fine. They understand why.” You try reasoning out with her. 

“I hope so.” She sighs sadly on the phone, and it makes your heart hurt. 

“They do understand. Trust me.” 

“I wish you were here-” She immediately cuts off. 

“Mom, I can go with you. I don’t have to go on Dan and Lina’s trip. Let me call Minny so I can tell her to not come by.” 

“No, no!” You pause. “Please, don’t miss out on having fun for me. I want you to have fun. You deserve it.” You nod, even though she can’t see you. You check the time, and know you’re running out of time to finish packing. 

“You deserve it too, Mom.” She doesn’t say anything, but you know she’s smiling on the other side of the call.

“Hey, Mom. I gotta go. Minny is almost here to pick me up, so I just wanna double check everything.” 

“Of course, honey. I’ll call Lina later. Say hi to Minny for me. I love you.” 

“Will do. I love you too.” The door knocks once you hang up the call. Curses scolding yourself for being so lazy and procrastinating fly from your lips as you get the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” The last person you were expecting was seeing your ex boyfriend on your doorstep with keys in his hand. He wore rust color corduroy pants, a stripe shirt, and a turquoise jacket that’s stitched on the side. His hair was pushed back by his black sunglasses and he was wearing his pearl necklace. You hate to admit that he looks good and can possibly rock anything he wore, and you despised him for that along with other reasons. 

“Wow. No, hi or how are you Harry? I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” He says sarcastically and you roll your eyes, walking back to your room to finish packing. “Well, I see you’re still not that great with organizing your time, or your clothes.” You don’t say anything because you really don’t want to speak to him at the moment, or at all. “I’m assuming Minny didn’t tell you.” Your eyes perk up into confusion. 

“Minny didn’t tell me what?” You ask, continuing to fold the last pair of clothes. 

“She asked me to pick you up. You know, to take you to the lake house.” If it were possible, steam was coming out of your ears. Why hadn’t Minny told you? You huff loudly for Harry to know that you’re clearly annoyed before grabbing your phone and immediately dialing Minny’s number, and waiting for her to pick up. 

Harry looks around your room, seeing as things haven't changed with you, and you want to kick him out as soon as you're done talking to Minny. 

“Hey, girl! Are you on your way?” Her voice is high and she clearly is not prepared for what you’re about to give her. 

“How can you have Harry pick me up? And why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t pick me up?” 

“Clearly, you’re the best at greeting people anymore.” Harry says, leaning against the door frame as he wears a smirk, and you immediately flick him off. He puts his hand on his chest with an exaggerated jaw drop, pretending to be offended. 

“I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you, I promise. But my dumbass of a brother decided to come last minute because his plans got cancelled, and so we were all rushing out the door and putting everything in the car.” You hear Minny’s brother, Jackson, say ‘hey!’ and you sigh. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” Not wanting to be annoyed anymore, you brush it off. 

“I can find someone else to pick me up, no worries.” Harry raises his hands up as if he’s saying ‘I’m literally here to pick you up.’ 

“No! Just take the ride from Harry. After all, he is staying at the house too.” Your eyes widen. 

“What?! Why would you invite him?” 

“You know, you’re doing a lot of talking like I’m not here in the room right now.” You mouth ‘shut up’ to him.

“Please, just go with him. We’re almost there anyways and I don’t want you guys to be late because you want to be difficult. Just ride with him. It’s only like a 3 hour drive and you can sleep on the way, and then not talk to him for the rest of the trip.” She persuades. 

Minny was always good at persuading people. In college, both of you were commuting from home and didn’t stay at the dorms, so you didn’t know that many people, especially not in the frat or sorority houses. She had convinced her parents that they needed a weekend to get out of the house and take a nice getaway trip, laying out the pros and cons so she can throw a party. And they really thought her pros outweigh the cons. 

“Ugh! Okay, fine.” 

“Thank you! Love you! Bye!” She gets off the phone quickly, and you turn to Harry. 

“Shall we get on the road?” He smiles. You were finally finished with packing and rolled your luggage to the front, ignoring him. He comes out of your room with your bikini top in his hand, and your eyes widen, forgetting to take it from the lampshade. “Think you forgot this.” He holds it up and you snatch it quickly. And you’re both out the door and possibly going on the worst trip. 

Two weeks and I’ll be home. 

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Two hours down. One more to go. 

The entirety of the car ride had been filled with awkwardness and silence. If music hadn’t been playing, you were sure you were going to explode. Harry had asked you if you were alright about a million times or if you were too hot or cold. You kept your responses to a minimum, replying with ‘yeah, I’m good’ or ‘I’m okay’. Harry was gripping the steering wheel so tight, that he was sure his hand would cramp up when he tried to unlatch. The tension and awkwardness was getting to him. He hated that things had ended up like this between the two of you, but he was willing to change that. He wants to change that. 

“R. E. D.” He says suddenly after minutes of not talking, and just listening to the sound of the music and the engine of the car. 

“Pardon?” You turn to face him. 

“C’mon, you don’t remember the game we used to play when we would go on road trips?” He asks hopefully, looking at you quickly before turning his head back on the road. 

Of course you remember. Hours on the road with him, going to the next destination when he was on tour or outside of the city to get away from everything, led you both to play road trip games that included saying 3 random letters and finding it on a license plate. It’s what made traveling fun and the hours on the road much more interesting. Especially with Harry. 

“Yeah, I remember.” You say softly, not showing emotion. 

“Okay, well, start looking.” 

“You weren’t very good at this game.” You say, but quickly close your mouth, not realizing that you’re thinking out loud. 

And Harry’s surprised. He knows that your comment was a teasing one, and he was worried that he would t get a single sentence out of your mouth without you yelling in his face. “I’m very good at this game!” 

“I mean, considering that my board was filled with tallies, then I would think you’re bad at it.” You let out a chuckle and Harry has a big smile on his face, thinking it’ll hurt his cheeks later on. 

“You literally gave me impossible letters to work with!” 

“They’re license plates, not people’s names!” You tease. 

“Just look for R.E.D!” He ends the conversation. Although he didn’t want to, he knew that you’re most likely going to blow up in his face if you two acted like a happy couple again. He knew that you would overthink about the bad things overlapping the good, and you would go back to resenting him. 

And he was right. 

After he ended the conversation, you were thinking about what could’ve been between you; what could still be if he weren’t an asshole. The laughs and teasing you two had just a minute ago were replaced with deep breaths, not knowing if one of you should say a thing again. 

There were only a few cars on the same road for you; going to different places. You wondered if people going on a road trip had the same situation with you and Harry: the sharp tension that can be cut like a knife or wanting to jump out of the car. 

You must have blanked out for a while because Harry had gotten off the highway and onto a secluded street that leads to the lake house. 

The drive through the woods with high boulders and tall trees had you speechless. You got as close to the window as possible, looking up like you’ve just seen a shooting star. Nature has always been such a fascination to you. You’ve always loved camping trips and hiking; so much that you’re currently an environmental scientist. 

You don’t notice with your head practically sticking out the window, but Harry is having such a hard time keeping his eyes on the road. He thinks that it’s admirable how passionate you are, especially about nature and animals because it’s rare that people end up doing what they love. And he loves seeing you so passionate about what you love. 

The drive surrounded by the forest didn’t take long; about 20 minutes, and Harry had already pulled up into the gravel driveway in front of the lake house. 

The famous lake house that Lina and Dan have owned for 30 years; ever since they got married. It was a rather large lake house; able to fit two families of four. With brown wood hammered onto the sides and evergreen border along the windows, the house was generally very comfortable and homey. They had kept renovating throughout the years to keep up with the times changing, and they’re loving how modern it looks as of now, but very welcoming at the same time. 

“Well, we’re finally here.” Harry says, cutting off the ignition and getting out of the car. You do the same as well and meet him where the truck is popped open, Harry grabbing his bags. You went to reach for it, but Harry slaps your hand away.

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry about the bags. I got them.” 

“Thanks.” You give him a soft smile. 

“And besides, you’ve packed for like a month when we’re gonna be here for two weeks, and you were barely able to carry it out of your house.” He teases. 

“For a matter of fact, I happen to be very strong.” You cross your arms. 

“Okay, whatever you say, Captain.” The pet name slipped out. When you and Harry were together, he started calling you Captain because sometimes you can be so aggressive and demanding, but passionate, that it felt like you were the Captain of the ship, which technically you were. You were always in charge, always right, and always planning everything. Captain just stuck, and he thought it was so perfect for you. 

The pet name had definitely startled you. You haven’t heard that name come from his lips in forever. And admittingly, you missed it. But you don’t tell him that, of course. 

Harry notices your shock and just smiles instead of pushing it. He instead walks towards the car once his hands are full. 

“Hey, Harry?” He could’ve sworn that his head got jumbled up at your call for him because of how fast he turned around. 

“Yes?”

“R.E.D.” You pointed towards Minny’s car with a smirk on your face. Harry looks at her license plate and his jaw drops, but you see the corners of his lips turn up. 

“How did you-”

“You think I don’t know my best friend’s license plate when she’s had this car for 4 years?” Your smile is amusing and Harry has missed this side from you. 

“Well done.” He drops the bags and starts clapping. 

“Make sure to mark my tally.” You walk past him and towards the house. Harry turns around, watching you walk. Specifically landing his eyes on your hips and watching them sway like you own the fucking world. It’s endearing and he loves it. He loves how sometimes you can walk the whole universe and own it, but he always loves how you shy away from things and look for reassurance. He loves it. 

You don’t turn around because with the smile and hint of blush that crept onto your face, it’s bound to be a disaster if he sees it. 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” He chuckles before picking up the bags and following your footsteps. 

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

The inside of the house was opposite of what it looked like from the outside. While the outside was rustic and dark looking, the inside was light and provided very much needed natural lighting due to the big window that overlooks the lake. Sun shines bright through the window and into the house that it almost hurts to look out, but that’s Mother Nature at her finest. 

You head up to your usual bedroom that you claimed when you were younger, having taken trips to this house for so many years that your feet just subconsciously took you to your room. 

It remained the same: big window that led to a small balcony, wooden frame bed, and a mattress that is the perfect size and comfort for you. The walls were white, and with the light coming through, it made the room look even bigger. 

Usually you and Minny would sleep in the same room, but there were enough rooms so you two can have your own. But there were some nights where you would spend the night with her, and her, you. 

You hadn’t noticed Harry following you to your room, but when you hear bags drop onto the floor, you jump and turn around. “You scared me.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to. Thought you heard me following you.” 

“No, I didn’t. I was just distracted with my thoughts.” 

Harry leans against the door frame and crosses his arms. “What about?” He asks curiously. 

“Just… haven’t been here in a while, and I miss it.” He only nods, and it quickly goes back to silence. “Thank you for bringing my bags up.” This time, he smiles. 

“Not a problem. Let me know if you need anything else, Captain.” You chuckle. 

“Will do.” He leaves your room and shuts the door close, knowing you’d probably want to settle in and change into more lounge clothing. 

You sit on your bed, facing the window, and look out at the lake. You don’t know what you’re feeling. Before you saw him today, you would just get mad that you’re thinking about him, but that car ride broke every anger that clung onto your body. It was like your mind naturally reacted to Harry in a way that you couldn’t control. You can control anything else, but not with Harry. You naturally felt a pull towards him, and no matter how much you wanted to cut off the string you couldn’t. 

You had definitely missed the feeling of being around him, and that makes you angry. Angry at yourself because he hurt you. 

You try not to cry with the thoughts swirling in your head. You take in the beautiful view from your bedroom and tell yourself that you shouldn’t be sad because you’ve got a long trip ahead of you. 

As you changed into your lounge clothes, you headed downstairs to greet the family that was just back from the backyard. 

“Oh, sweetheart! I’m so happy you’re here!” Lina greets you with a warm hug. Dan does the same, giving you a bear hug. 

“Happy anniversary! How are you guys?” You ask the married couple. 

“We’re doing great! I’m excited this time has come again! We’ve got so much planned.” You smile at their excitement. They turned to look at each other and you can’t help but admire their love for one another, even after all these years. 

Yours and Minny’s parents’ love was like no other. You were pretty blessed to grow up around healthy relationships, and can’t help but feel so fond of the love they have for each other and wanting it for yourself. 

“The kids are still outside.” Lina kisses your cheek and Dan pats your shoulder before they head to the kitchen. 

You walk through the glass slide door that leads to the stunning view of the water that the sun reflects onto. You take a deep inhale in, breathing in the world’s scent. The outside is such a beauty that some people take it for granted. 

“Ahh!” The famous screams come from no other than Minny. “You’re here!” She runs to you and you engulf her into a big and hard hitting hug. Jackson also hugs you and runs his hand on top of your head, messing up your hair. 

“Dickhead!” You slap his chest. 

“How are you, other little sister?” 

“Oh, you know, here.” You say, not knowing what to say, so ‘here’ is usually your backup for not really wanting to say how you feel. 

Minny rolls her eyes, knowing you all too well for your liking. “How was the drive?” 

“It was…interesting.” 

“Well, that’s my cue to go.” Jackson walks back to the house, and leaves Minny and I to talk. 

“Was it that bad?” Minny asks worriedly. 

“No, it wasn’t bad. It was just awkward and there was tension between us. But then we started playing our famous road trip game and I started teasing him, and ugh! I smiled and laughed a little and I hated it.” You huffed and looked down. 

“What, why?” 

“I-I don’t know. I just… I was expecting to have the worst trip when he showed up at my doorstep, but my mind is taking over.” 

“Your mind or your heart?” Minny tests. You don’t reply. You just look at her, not knowing if she genuinely wanted a response or she was just testing you. 

“Why did you invite him?” You ask at the wrong time because you don’t hear the sliding door open, revealing Harry. 

“Hey, Minny.” He smiles softly at her and steps out of the house to hug her. Your breath was hitched in your throat, feeling guilty about your question because you didn’t hear him. 

“Hey, Harry.” She smiles back and hugs him. Once they let go of their embrace, Harry turns to you. 

“If you don’t want me here so bad, then the Captain shall be obeyed.” He teases, but you know that he’s more hurt than what he puts on. He puts on a brave face, but really you see it in his eyes that he’s hurt. You know that your question had hurt him and it was just the wrong timing to ask that. 

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Didn’t you?” His head turns slightly, knowing he’s trying to keep his annoyance intact. His voice is different and sarcastic. Minny senses the shift of tension, so she breaks it. 

“I invited him because he’s been my friend as long as you have, so he’s practically family too. He’s been to every trip as well, and besides, my parents love him.” She places her arm on Harry’s shoulder, and you can’t help but feel like they’re teaming up against you. Harry walks ahead of us and goes inside while you and Minny trail behind him. You know you shouldn’t think of it like that because they’re not, but you feel like such a downer once you found out that Harry was tagging along. “Let’s go in and eat lunch!” Minny changes the subject, feeling like that’s what they really needed. “By the way, which letters did he ask for?” Minny asks. 

“R.E.D,” you smile amusingly and roll your eyes, giving your best friend the ‘I know right?’ look. She laughs loudly, throwing her head back and clutching her stomach. 

“Well that was an easy win for you.” She says and you nod, before putting an arm around your shoulder, walking inside the house for lunch. 

Lina had prepared salad, homemade garlic bread, Brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes. Dan had cooked his famous ribs, one that was his specialty ever since he was a young adult. They didn’t want to cook right when they got to the house, so they prepared it beforehand and took it with them. 

The six sat down at the table that was set in front of the window. Dan at the end of the table, Lina on his right, Minny right next to Lina, you on the other end, Harry next to you, and Jackson next to Harry. Everyone was loading food on their plates before passing it around or across the table, Lina making sure everyone got one of each. 

“Alright, eat up!” 

The conversation flowed throughout the table. The parents asked the kids how work was going, to which everyone responded that it was going well. 

“Harry, honey, is your mom and sister planning to stay as well?” Lina asks. 

Harry clears his throat and wipes his mouth before replying, “they might come at the end of the week—probably the weekend. Gems couldn’t get out of work, so they’ll only stay for a few days.” She nodded and turned to you. 

“Has your mother changed her mind? About coming?” She gives you a sympathetic look. 

“I don’t think so. She said she would call you later.” Lina smiles at that. Your eyes naturally gravitated towards Harry and he has a confused look on his face looking back at you, but you look down at your plate before picking up your ribs and taking a bite out of them. 

You listen to the conversation while you eat; Dan telling the table a story about a cliff diving incident that happened to Lina when they were in Greece, and the whole table was laughing their ass off, even though they’ve heard it a million times; it never gets old. 

You finished your rib and set it down on your plate before wiping your hands down, and before you went to wipe your lips, you felt a napkin, one that’s not yours, wipe your cheek. You turn and see Harry trying to get the stained sauce from your skin. 

“Thank you.” You say awkwardly once he’s done, and he gives you a smile followed by a chuckle. He didn’t mean to do that. He knew you were a messy eater and it was a habit that he wiped stuff off your face. A habit that worked well for the both of you, like you were a team. A natural born team. 

Once everyone was finished with lunch, it was nearing 2 p.m already, and the group decided to split and do whatever they please as they were going to be all together tomorrow and the rest of the trip. 

After everyone helped clean up the table and kitchen, you decided to take a nap before watching the sun set for the day. 

Your body hit the mattress and soft pillows that made you feel like you were on a cloud. The room was dark, thanks to the thick curtains that hung from the metal rod. The only light that was shown was a strip of it coming from the curtain not being able to close all the way. You snuggled your pillow, happy you’re finally getting some rest after a long day. 

When you woke up, it was still light out, but not as sunny as it was prior to your nap. You stretched your limbs out, relieving the feeling of any tense muscles from your sleep, and walked downstairs and to the backyard.

“Good nap?” Harry says from the lawn chair that is set on the grass. You rub your eyes, nodding while closing the sliding door. There’s a vacant seat next to him, and you’re not quite sure if you want to sit next to him or watch the sun disappear when your feet are in the water. “Want to sit here?” He asks as if he read your mind. 

“I-”

“I can see that you’re debating if you want to sit next to me or not, so I can leave and you can sit here if you want.” He says, and you feel bad a bit. He already thinks that you don’t want him here, and he’s simply here for Lina and Dan. 

“It’s okay. You can stay. I’m just going to go by the water.” He only nods and you walk away. 

The water softly hits the shore and you feel the coldness of it hit your feet. It’s refreshing and cooling, hoping it’ll cool down your nerves and your mood. 

You cross your arms as you watch the sun slowly begin to set. The fascination you have with the sun is like no other. It reminds you of the feeling of hope and a new beginning; how the sun setting resembles the end of a story, a day. And tomorrow is a new day. 

You can’t help but think about your situation with Harry and how it’s hypocritical to be talking about a new story when you’ve been clinging onto his story. You feel a little stressed keeping the grudge and anger towards him bottled up because he hurt you bad, but you’re also still in love with him. 

As the sky turned from light to dark, you turned around to go inside, and to see if Harry was still sitting on the chair. But when you’re walking away from the water and towards the house, you see the chair empty, and you don't know why you have a sad feeling in your chest.

feedback or talk to me about this here!

taglist

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Musical Tryouts (1/31/2021)

Please pretend I posted this chat log a month and a half ago when it actually happened, sob.

Valera @autokrates is leaving an audition for Hell’s first production of Hamilton, and runs into Alastor, waiting for his turn to audition. They hang out and chat until it’s his turn—which marks the first time in forever they’ve had a full conversation that wasn’t Incredibly Awkward the whole way through. Hooray for progress.

Chronologically, this chat log happened between this (note: art of extremely hilarious outfit) and this (note: art of another hilarious outfit)

Alastor

Alastor hasn’t auditioned for a show since the seventies, and hasn’t auditioned and *cared* about it in almost a century. He’d like to think he doesn’t look nervous, but he knows he’s reread his typewritten lyrics about a hundred times and every couple of minutes he catches his leg bouncing again. That’s fine, he’s in disguise, he isn’t supposed to look like himself anyway. He can look a little nervous.

When he realizes he’s more staring a hole through his pages than actually reading them, he forces himself to lift his head, slouches back in his cheap metal chair, and looks around the makeshift backstage waiting room. Maybe he can figure out if anyone else is trying for his parts, drag them into the back alley, and mangle them. It would defeat the purpose of showing up in disguise, but it would burn some nervous energy, and anyway he’s already seen one would-be Angelica pin another down and slit her throat. His gaze scans over the other hopeful actors.

Valera

From the stage comes the muffled sound of someone singing, as expected. But the singing gets louder as the voice approaches the door, and it certainly sounds like Not A Musical Number. It sounds a lot more like someone who needed to be accompanied by someone torturing a piano with a series of small hammers. Was that a Will Wood number? Why yes, yes it was!

Through the curtains and round the corner comes the fish supreme, bedecked in enough frills and frippery to lose an orphan in with their 18th century french fashion, belting out lines from I/Me/Myself as they saunter towards the exit with barely a glance for the other hopefuls waiting for their call. Barely a glance at all, until their eyes land on Alastor. Then their jaunty tune is cut off with an uncanny impression of a record scratch crossed with a chicken being strangled, head whipping around for a double take as they freeze mid stride. Holy fuck what was he WEARING???

Alastor

Alastor’s ears threatened to perk up beneath his temporarily shapeshifted hair at the sound of a very familiar and very beloved song from another performer—he’d almost considered performing that one himself, God was he lucky he’d decided to go with “Modern Major General”—and he turned to see who it was with the spectacular taste in music—

“Valera?!” What the hell was Valera doing at a musical audition in Hell?

Valera

It WAS Alastor! They KNEW it! They gasp, pointing at him as their eyes boggle. "Al--" And just as quickly, a hand is clapped over their own mouth, teeth clicking as they clamp their mouth shut. Okay, try that again, *without* ruining his disguise.

They stride over to where he's sitting, leaning in slightly before hissing. "What are you WEARING?"

Alastor

Alastor plays the sound of something crashing over when Valera starts to say his name—the other waiting performers look around to see which props just toppled over—and hops out of his seat to meet Valera in the middle when they approach him. “Do *not* expose me,” he hisses, flinging an arm around Valera’s shoulders. “Nobody here knows I’m the Radio Demon and if this is going to work, nobody *can* know.”

Then he looks down at his own outfit. “A disguise.” Obviously. “I asked my listeners, ‘What’s the last thing you’d ever expect me to wear?’”

Valera

Oh, great, he's touching them AND he's already mad at them for something they'd already avoided. This seemed like par for the course, might as well get through this as painlessly as possible. Valera's face tightens into a stiff little smile, stomach already twisting into knots. "I've got no plans of exposing you, it would be a shame to ruin the work you put into your... outfit."

A slow exhale from the nose, and they force their shoulders to relax. Can't have the other actors see the two of them at odds, they're clearly just a couple of friends running into each other! A funny coincidence! Their voice raises back to a normal speaking tone, all sunshine and cheer as they give Alastor a pat on the back that falls short of actually touching him. "I take it you're here to audition for a part, then?"

Alastor

Alastor wheezes a near-silent laugh. “Isn’t it hideous?” he whispers. “You should see what the full leggings look like, they’re horrible.”

He lets go and steps back. “I am! I was seized by a wild burst of inspiration, and auditions happened before that inspiration ran out. I take it you... *already* auditioned.” Which raises a whole slew of questions, but Alastor starts with the most important one: “Which part?”

Valera

Valera sends up a silent prayer of thanks to any God listening, hands folding behind their back as they admire Alastor's grotesque attire. "Unfortunately, I kind of love it. It's vile, but with a few tweaks it could be a genuinely good outfit."

They clear their throat at his latter question, rolling back on the heels of their new shoes. "Washington. I didn't come to Hell today expecting to audition for anything, I was just here buying shoes. But I heard music, saw the theater, decided to pop in and see what was going on. And hey, why not try out? Didn't expect to run into you of all people."

Alastor

A little tension drains out of his shoulders at the answer. He glances down to idly check out Valera’s new shoes. “Oh, good! I don’t have to duel you for a part.” He almost instinctively starts playing a snip from “Ten Duel Commandments” to underline the comment, but catches himself. He is, after all, trying not to blow his cover—he’s even consciously suppressing the radio distortion to his voice, he nearly sounds like a normal person. “The feeling’s *entirely* mutual. You’re about the last person I’d expect to try out for a show around here, so far from home!”

And he’s not sure how he feels about it yet. He’s been trying to avoid talking to Valera—can’t get in trouble after interacting with them if they *don’t* interact, can he?—and now here he is doing the opposite of that... but they haven’t started another stupid argument. Yet. “What are you doing if you actually get the part? You’re committing to being in Pentagram City on a near daily basis for—goodness, months at least!”

Valera

They don't know how they feel about seeing him here either. It went from being a fun little spur of the moment tryout before icecream into an UNEXPECTED INTERACTION with A PERSON THEY DON'T KNOW WELL. But no, they have to tamp down on the urge to make their excuses and leave, things would never improve between them if Valera did nothing but avoid him after all.

"IF I get the part! I haven't been in a production in years, I'm rusty compared to plenty of the actors here today, I'm sure." A hand waves, lazy and dismissive. "But if I do pull it off, I've been planning on spending more time in Hell anyway. This is just a convenient excuse."

Alastor

“Hah, I haven’t tried out for a show since—well, since before you were born.” And then, he’d just been doing it as a lark, too—something to attempt to keep his mind occupied. He hadn’t actually *wanted* to be in a production this badly since he lived in New York, before he gave up on making it on Broadway and went into radio. “But how many of *them* can launch into a full musical number at the drop of a hat!”

Valera

Right, it was easy to forget that Alastor was old enough to be their dad. Or Grandpa. Probably? They'd done the math at some point..

"Hatched." They correct on reflex, reaching up to fuss with the feather on their hat. "Who are you trying for? Lafayette? I could see you as a Lafayette." They're saying it because of the French, but they will NOT say that out loud.

Alastor

Great-grandpa, easily. Maybe even great-great grandpa if a few generations got early starts.

His face brightens. “Let’s hope the casting director thinks so, too! Yes, Lafayette and Jefferson—the same actor played them both in the mortal realm, why shouldn’t one person play both down here, too?”

Valera

Great-grandpa Alastor, the spryest old man in the nursing home. Eating the interns when he gets bored... That sounds like a typical older Veci actually.

They hum, looking Alastor up and down in his getup. "You'll get the part, or I'll eat this silly chapeu. I've seen the competition you're up against. They're good, don't get me wrong, but..." A vague gesture at him. "Nobody could compete!"

Alastor

"You flatter me!" All the same, he's beaming widely. "But I was hoping that would be the case, what with when they scheduled auditions. January's a bad time for, well, *most* people's schedules. I'm afraid I missed all but the tail end of your performance—spectacular choice of song, though!"

Valera

"Why thank you! Will Wood doesn't fit the show's theme in the slightest, but it certainly shows my singing chops! Though if I'd planned for this audition I might have gone with an outfit a bit less.. *French*." They grin, shimmying their enormous sleeves. Unrepentant in the slightest. "Might. I could see Washington's doughy self in this getup."

Alastor

Alastor examines Valera’s getup. Was that French? It just looked old-fashioned to him. “Well, hopefully they’re not going to judge based on fashion!” He glances pointedly down at his own outfit.

Valera

Another glance at his outfit, and they give a thumbs up. "You've got a bowtie on, you'll be fine."

Oh. Would it be a supportive friend thing to do to sit and wait for his call with him? Or would that be somehow rude? They couldn't just ask, if it *was* rude he'd probably be offended by the notion, but if it wasn't... Something bad. Probably? Maybe they're being unfair. A quick clearing of the throat, and they gesture towards the door. "Do you want to sit down? I've got time to kill before. Uh... *Mon Cerf Rouge* arrives with my ice cream."

Alastor

*Oh right*, he’s wearing *Valera’s husband’s* bow tie. His hand flies up to cover it as if that will prevent it from being identified, and he quickly forces his hand back down. “Well! I wasn’t going to show up to an audition underdressed, was I?” He laughs thinly. Don’t act suspicious it’s fine.

Is Valera hanging out with another Alastor? He wonders which one. How is it that every version of himself manages to get along with them but him? It wouldn’t be so galling if *none* of them could get along with Valera, but if it’s something he uniquely is doing wrong—no, don’t worry about that right now.

His first inclination is to turn down the offer, they’ve had a cordial conversation so far and he can’t mess it up if it ends right here; but there’s a chance they’re about to both end up in the same show, isn’t there? Polite avoidance might not be an option for long. Better get to work on getting along. “Sure! It’s a bit yet until my turn.”

Valera

What a reaction! They will politely pretend they didn't see him have a miniature panic over being seen wearing Pentious' bowtie. Far too busy inspecting their gloves, for some reason. How convenient.

Well, now they've done it, they're stuck here. Though it's surprising he accepted the offer, maybe it'll be okay? If he really wanted to avoid them he could have turned the offer down. They're probably overthinking it. A quick nod, and then they perch on the edge of a seat so their fuckoff huge tail can actually fit amidst the mounds of ruffles. On the plus side, nobody but Alastor was going to be taking the seats next to them anytime soon, unless they wanted to fight the tide of frills.

Time to.. Get along? Polite chit chat? "Is this the first production of Hamilton in Hell? It's a fairly new musical, and I know there's a bit of a delay getting things down here."

Alastor

“The very first! In fact, this production company is the one that got the first recording smuggled down from the living realm! Online there’s a few amateur recordings of recent arrivals singing the songs they remember, but so far that’s the only presence Hamilton has had in Hell. Anyone who gets in this show has an opportunity to *define* their roles in the eyes of the public.” Oh, he’s getting a little starry-eyed just thinking of it. “I suppose you’ve probably seen the original production in the mortal realm?”

Valera

"I did, though that was long before I met you or I'd have invited you along!" They're going to take the hat off, it's very silly and the feather keeps floating around in the corner of their vision. Plus, now they have something to hold in their hands so they can't start doing anything weird with them. Win win!

Alastor seems genuinely excited about this production, he'd gone through all the effort to get an outfit, come for tryouts.. And they just sauntered in on a whim. Thank the gods they weren't trying out for the same part, Valera would have had to bow out immediately. "I wonder if any of the actual founding fathers have survived long enough down here to see the show. Wouldn't *that* be something?"

Alastor

“Wouldn’t it just! I can’t think of *anything* I’d enjoy more than prancing around on stage making Jefferson look like an absolute damn fool while the real deal seethes in a front row seat!” He laughs. It’s not a terribly friendly laugh. “But I don’t know if any are down here. I don’t pay close attention to that sort of thing—and anyway, most *important* people who end up damned either find themselves on the receiving end of a deluge of assassination attempts or else change their identities fairly fast. A founding father could show up and audition to play as himself and we might not know.” A thoughtful pause. “Although I doubt any of them would get the part.”

Valera

"I'd assume they wound up here, considering the whole owning slaves and starting wars thing. Good PR post mortem doesn't absolve you of shitty behaviors in life, unfortunately." Yes. Very unfortunate. That's why they're grinning so toothily. "Imagine if we got the actual King George on the roster? Though I'd rather see Pentious try for the part, personally." There's no way George was still around, he'd gone batty enough in life that he'd probably wandered onto the nearest angelic spear first thing. But they could dream!

Alastor

“One would hope! But no one’s ever sent me the rule book on what does and doesn’t get you access upstairs, who knows for sure? I can tell you what I think *should* get you down here, but I can’t tell you with complete certainty whether or not it does.”

Oh, his eyes light up at that. “Just imagine him in the full raiment of a king! But no. Getting up on stage to have hundreds of people laugh at him for dressing and acting like royalty? He’d hate it.”

Valera

"He'd look glorious in a crown! But you're right, he'd never want a comic relief role, even if he WOULD get to sing about sending battalions after people." Alas and alack, King George ala Pentious would have to live in their dreams. But they smirk, leaning a fraction closer to Alastor to whisper. "But we might be able to get him to sing it privately, at least, and wouldn't that be lovely?"

Quickly pulling back, they cross one leg over the other and put on that cheerful grin again. "What do you think *should* qualify to send people to Hell, my fine fellow? It's a broad question, so we can skip it if you'd rather not open that can of worms."

Alastor

Wouldn’t it be lovely, indeed. He smiles uncomfortably and glances away.

“Oh, skip it.” He waves a hand vaguely. “I find the topic as sanctimonious as it is futile. It may not be for *you*, perhaps—for you, it’s little more than an interesting thought experiment on alien morality—but for us? What’s the good of debating why people should be damned when we’re *already* damned? It’s not going to help us get out of Hell. God isn’t going to take our suggestions into consideration. All the topic does is make one bitter that the powers that be don’t appear to be judging people to one’s personal moral standards—or else it inspires one to assume that God *is* operating in line with one’s personal understanding of justice, and try to pigeonhole everyone one meets into the crimes one believes are worthy of damnation. I’ve run into countless people down here who *don’t know why* they’re damned—and yet they *are* damned, which means they’ve done something that *is* damnable even if they themselves don’t believe it. If people can’t understand their own sins, how can they be trusted to judge anyone else’s?”

Valera

They lean back as Alastor skips one can of worms for another, watching him as he broke down his reasoning. It was interesting, insightful, even if they didn't have much to say to him in response. He was right, after all. For them it was an alien concept, a novelty to roll around and discard when they were bored, just like so many other human notions. But not everyone was so lucky. A nod of agreement, and they flick their tail.

"You're right. My apologies, Alastor, it's easy to forget how... fortunate I am, to be in the position I'm in." A side eye at the other actors, who PROBABLY couldn't hear the conversation, but even so. "Something lighter, then. Have you had a chance to work on restoring your deathday gift yet? You did a fine job with Alexander, he's as glossy as the day you *finished* him."

Alastor

“Oh, that’s just to be expected. How many people have a chance to measure their lives up against the dead and damned, anyway? We’re not given opportunities to interact with anyone but our fellow prisoners and our jailers, and that’s by design.” He’s occasionally side-eyeing the other actors himself, but none seem to be paying attention.

“Oh—yes! Cleaned out the guts and got off the worst of the grime of age. I need to get a few cleaning supplies to finish the job, but soon the both of them will be spick and span!” Look at him beaming, the proud father. “How *is* Alexander? I wanted to talk to him while visiting your place, but his time seemed to be monopolized by someone else the whole trip!” He really did feel bad about that. He feels like he’s got something a duty to Alexander, but so far he hasn’t been able to meet it.

Valera

This was a MUCH better topic. Radios and mutual friends, much safer. They let their shoulders relax under the jacket, chirping as their fins waggle. "I'm sure they'll be as good as new by the time you're done with them, mon collègue. You'll have to show me how they come out. A beautiful antique is always twice as radiant when restored with care, and those radios were gorgeous."

Ah.. Alexander. Their face twists, a frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Alexander is.. alright, I suppose. Nothing terrible has happened, and I've been trying to work with him on his manifestations with generally mixed to positive results." They shrug, sighing through their nose. "I think he misses other humans. Or former humans, I suppose. We get along well, but he'll see something and start talking about.. Ponzi? Or his mother writing to him from the" Airquotes here as they squint "Dust Bowl?" What the fuck is a dust bowl? They don't know, it sounds like something a chinchilla would roll in. "And he loses me completely."

Alastor

“I’ll have Vaggie take pictures some time.”

Alastor’s eyebrows shoot up. “That poor man got tangled up with Ponzi *and* the dust bowl? Goodness, what an unfortunate life he lived! But you’re right, he really needs more humans to talk to, doesn’t he? I’ll—“ A pause, and then he says thoughtfully, “I’ll see whether I can contact him myself. If not, I’ll let you know and we’ll arrange a play date. If it works, though—you’ll probably hear about it from him.”

Valera

Contact Alexander himself? Valera opens their mouth to ask how, then it clicks. Right, radio to radio transmissions. Could Alastor reach radios outside of Hell? Maybe it would be easier if the radio was haunted, a bit closer to the fuzzy boundaries between Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Or, Okkylk in this case. Hm.

"I'll take your word for it, I haven't got the foggiest about what either of those are. What the *devil* is a Ponzi?" They've heard "Ponzi Scheme" said in movies, but maybe it wasn't even the same Ponzi! Maybe Ponzi was a normal human thing. Like a brand, they do love their brands... "But thank you. I think he'd benefit from having more than one very alien being to talk to."

Alastor

“Charles Ponzi! A con artist! He convinced a whole slew of people to give him a mountain of money to invest in what he claimed was some post office money-making scheme and that he’d double their money in a month or two. Instead, he pocketed the money, convinced *another* slew of people to give him money for the same scheme, used that money to pay off the first wave of suckers—and rinse and repeated until he’d scammed thousands and stolen millions! Spent a few years in prison, got out and tried another scheme, got arrested in dear old New Orleans trying to flee the country! You knew you weren’t going to be bored any time he showed up in the papers!” Alastor loves a good con artist story. “The Dust Bowl, I missed myself—just a little bit after my time—but from my understanding it was a big drought in the middle of the States that dried out a bunch of farmland. Lot of farming families starved those years.” Alastor loves a good con artist, but starving people are just sad.

Valera

This Ponzi guy should have gone into politics, hot damn. Valera makes a low whistle, nodding their approval. "That DOES explain why he thought about Ponzi, we were talking about the weird political scams my predecessor left me on the hook for when I snuffed him out. Though I think that Charles there pulled it off with more flair than that bird brain ever could have. What a character! I've got to respect that kind of daring."

Probably best not to comment too much on the dust bowl, that sounds like a downer. But, they did bring it up, and if they're talking about Alexander.. "That does explain it. I believe his family was based in that middle area." A nod, and they immediately jump to something less negative. "Let him prattle on at you about his electronics store, he'd love it. The man talked my fins off for twenty minutes about something called a Perikon Detector a regular asked him to order and I STILL don't understand why he was so exasperated about it."

Alastor

“Oh, did he ever have flair! There’s a story I heard about when news of his scams started hitting the papers—all his investors swarmed his offices to demand their money back, he went around to them one by one offering coffee and donuts and smiles, and charmed them so well they *left* their money with him!” Alastor laughs.

Perikon Detector? Alastor stares off into space a moment, trying to dig the term out of nearly-century-old memories. “... Probably because Perikon Detectors were replaced by vacuum tubes before ninety percent of the nation ever even *heard* of radios. What the hell did someone want a Perikon Detector?”

Valera

They laugh, clapping their hands together. Charles Ponzi, was it? They'd have to look the fellow up later just to see the details of his escapades, maybe forward the information to a certain lawyer they knew. But for now, their potential costar has been oddly silent..

Alastor in a state of blank befuddlement was a rare treat, and one that Valera enjoyed while they could before he seemed to snap back into focus with his scrabbled knowledge in hand. "You'll have to ask him for specifics, but judging by the choice of insults, this person had a habit of asking for obscure, outdated parts rather frequently. Maybe a collector? Upcycler?" They shrug. "I still have no idea what a Perikon Detector IS. It sounds like a little bauble they'd use in a bad sci-fi show."

Alastor

“Well, it detects perikons, obviously!” He pauses. Dead silence. “Right, forgot I gave the laugh track the afternoon off. You at least know what vacuum tubes are, right? They, uh...” Has Alastor ever actually learned what it is, *exactly,* that vacuum tubes do. He knows how to use them. He knows how to tell which one he needs. He’s put them in radios. He’s *made* radios. But his eyes glaze over whenever he tries to learn what exactly it is the electricity *does* in there.

“Well,” he says confidently, “they control electrons, you see. You’re not getting very far in electronics if you can’t control electrons.” There’s a smattering of laughter. “Shut up, you’re all on break. Anyway, you’ve got vacuum tube radios and crystal radios—there’s a crystal in a Perikon Detector, see—and vacuum tube radios actually need some electricity to power them—which means you’ve got enough electricity to also power a speaker. Crystal radios are powered only by the very radio waves they pick up, but you’ve got to squeeze headphones against your face to hear it—so not very useful if you want to use a radio while doing anything but sitting in one spot very quietly with your hands over your ears. A Perikon Detector is just one brand name of crystal detectors that pick up radio waves.”

Valera

Alastor's initial joke is delivered, and Valera rather wished it hadn't been. In fact, they'd like to file a formal complaint with the verbal post office, they seem to have delivered an auditory assault instead of pleasantries. Silence reigns between them, oppressive and all consuming like an unjust monarch, three eyes staring silent judgement at the Radio Demon for his awful, terrible, no good dad joke levels of comedy. Jingle the bells on your little jester hat, old man-- Oh wait, he's talking again.

Valera stops squinting, rolling their eyes with a groan. He's still telling bad jokes. Those are only funny when YOU'RE the one telling them, the bastard. But they're going to completely gloss over his evil sense of humor and focus on the technical talk, and if there's a little upward twitch of their lips it's his imagination. Shut up. Dad jokes aren't funny. "Interesting! I'd never even heard of a crystal radio before, humans upgrade their technology so quickly that it makes the mind reel. One of their.. Your? Finer features."

Alastor

Alastor is goddamn hilarious and a gift to the microphone and the world is better for him and his humor having been in it, if we’re not counting those murders he did. “It *is* one of our more impressive parlor tricks! Although, truth be told, only one we picked up in the last century or so!” A pause. “Last *two* centuries. I keep forgetting the 1820s aren’t a hundred years ago. Anyway, we’ve really picked up the pace lately, relatively speaking! I once heard someone say—I don’t know how he knows, but I’m sure someone looked it up—that for several thousand years, the human *pelvis* evolved faster than the plowshare! And then all of the sudden, boom! Factories! Steel! Trains! Airships! Radio! How did people before the nineteenth century not bore themselves to death, I’ll never know.”

Valera

Valera cocks their head to the side, mind casting back. "From what I recall about sixteen hundreds France from my earliest visits, there was a lot of interpersonal drama and dying from preventable diseases to keep people busy. Much less interesting than the industrial revolution. Though the water was also a lot *cleaner* back then." A dissatisfied scoff. "Late eighteen hundreds London was a foul, foul place. Only went once and I had a cough for a week."

Alastor

"Oh, *that's* right! *Human drama!* Entertainment at its purest! I would have been an insufferable gossip, I'm sure." His smile broadens with satisfaction at figuring out what he would have done before radio.

Valera

"Oh don't sell yourself short, Alastor. I'm sure given the chance, you could be an insufferable gossip now, too!" They flutter their lashes dramatically, fanning themselves with their hat as they titter like a fine court damsel. Okay, enough of that. "They should be calling you soon, no?"

Alastor

“You flatter me! If more people shared gossip with me, I *would* be!”

Oh, right. He’s here for the first audition he’s cared about since dying. He sits up a little straighter, ears almost lifting out of his absurd disguise hair as he strains to listen to the current audition on stage. Sounds like it’s wrapping up. “Probably.” He looks down at his printed lyrics again and, predictably, forgets how to read.

Valera

Valera glances at Alastor's paper, humming as their hands rest on their hat. Was he *nervous*?

"Are you nervous?" Wait they said that out loud didn't they. Well, shit. Better commit. "What did you say you were doing again? The Major General's Song?"

Alastor

He's gonna ignore the hell out of that first question. "Yes, Modern Major General—and I learned a couple of songs from the show, more or less. I don't know what they're going to ask for. I figured at a minimum Modern Major General would show I can sing fast enough for the parts, if they don't want anyone to sing from the show."

Valera

If he'd actually answered the question, Valera would have probably accused him of being an imposter. Alastor wasn't known for admitting to his emotions unless you happened to be a Victorian steampunk snake, and even then. A sigh, and they lean back in their seat as much as their tail allows. "They let me sing Will Wood, so I think your selection should be perfectly sufficient. You even went with another musical theater song!"

Valera

Even then, he only just sort of failed to deny straightforward accusations. Kind of like what he just did. "I'm glad I didn't go with Will Wood," he mutters.

Yep, there's no more singing or talking from the stage, they're definitely wrapping up. Any second now.

Valera

It sounds like Alastor's turn is coming up, and good timing on that. They had no idea how to respond to his mutterings beyond pointing out that no casting director in Hell was likely to have heard of a semi obscure avant-garde jazz musician. Which might not even be accurate, maybe he was popular down here.

Out comes the phone, the ultimate distraction to ignore a potentially awkward silence. Better to end the talk on a positive-ish note, considering they're going to be seeing this garishly dressed man on the daily for possibly months. Sit next to one Alastor, text another, barely suppress snorts when the second gets confused about "phish food" being an ice cream flavor. As a fish does.

Alastor

The most recent actor comes backstage again, and another demon calls, “Next, uh... Lass?”

Alastor hops to his feet. “That’s me! That’s my name.” He turns to Valera. “Stage name. Drag name, usually, but as long as I’ve got the hair and the dress today—Anyway!” He claps a hand on Valera’s shoulder. “Tell me to break a leg!”

Valera

They glance up from their phone at the name call, sliding their eyes back down as Alastor hops up. Off he goes then? Maybe not, he's talking now, they should respond--

They make a very undignified BWAGH at the unexpected touch, hat flying off their lap as their whole body jumps. Then immediately pretends it didn't happen, clearing their throat noisily. What? No, they didn't just jump out of their scales. "Break a leg, Alastor."

Alastor

*Wheeze.* He doesn’t apologize but he *does* quickly take his hand back, which is probably as close as they’re gonna get from him. “Thanks!” He startled the hell out of someone and got a quick laugh out of it, that does something to steady his nerves. He folds up his lyrics, tucks them away god-only-knows-where, and strides out. Showtime!

Valera

Valera watches him go, shaking their head as they stand. Well, that's one radio demon out of their hair. Time to go willingly throw themselves at another one! The hat is plucked off the floor, and off they go. Not too shabby a day, not too shabby at all.

[captcas]

Worth Fighting For

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2

[CHAPTER 3/?]

Saturday night brings their monthly movie/game night and Emma has never been more grateful for a distraction. Ruby and the Nolans will come over around 6 o’clock and Henry is practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Tonight’s theme is Star Wars and this will be Henry’s official introduction to the series; at David’s insistence they’re starting with A New Hope and going release order from there. They’re also going to play Star Wars trivia which Henry will undoubtedly suck at.

Should be a fun night all around.

And it was, until Henry went to bed and the “adults” got to talking.

Ruby cracks another beer and turns to Emma, “So, Emma, you’ve got probably the coolest new job in the world and you haven’t said jack shit.”

She shoots Ruby an icy glare as David and MM stop bickering over whether or not Kylo Ren deserved a redemption arc to hear what Emma has to say.

Emma sighs, “It’s going alright. All the onboarding is underway and between the perks, benefits, and pay, Henry should be set for life.” She’s been fortunate to live off her winnings for the past nine years, being mindful of money and not giving into the lifestyle of frivolous spending many fighters take on, but -even her friends know- she doesn’t have a money tree.

The looks on their faces when she mentions Henry being set for life could melt 1000 Olafs. When she arrived at Ruth Nolan’s home at the age of 16, she never expected to find a family. Hardened by a life too lived for anyone her age, Emma assumed they’d be like every other foster home and use her for the money. To this day, she’s never been so happy to be wrong.

Emma’s not sure what twist of fate landed an orphan with such a great support system, but she’ll be forever grateful. David took to the “protective brother” role immediately. Soon after Emma moved in, he met Mary Margaret (fireworks and butterflies and all that mumbo jumbo) who introduced them to Ruby. They’re small, and maybe a bit scrappy, but they’re family.

She breaks out of her thoughts and returns to the present, “I will need some babysitting though; I’m required to attend each of my client’s Fight Nights. But overall it’s great, really!”

She hopes she squeaked away without having to mention Jones at all but the glint in Ruby’s eye tells her otherwise. “Ok that’s all fine and dandy,” Mary Margaret shoots Ruby an incredulous look, warning her to tread carefully, but Ruby ignores her and continues, “but who’s the client?”

David is giving her a protective father vibe, Ms is practically vibrating, and she's pretty sure Ruby is salivating. Emma sighs realizing she shouldn’t postpone the inevitable, “Killian Jones.”

Ruby practically drops her drink and Mary Margaret squeals, David rolls his eyes and turns back to the TV where SportsCenter has been playing in the background. Mary Margaret beats Ruby to the punch, “THE Killian Jones?! As in Killian “Hook” Jones?!”

Emma nods, standing up to refill the only slightly empty chip bowl in front of her. She knew this was going to happen and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her friends thirsting over her client– client… right.

Ruby speaks next, “Well that is probably the best case scenario. Do you think he can get us tickets? Have you met him? Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on TV? Can we meet him?”

Emma, now glad she’s in the kitchen with space to breathe, is starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. She knows Ms can sense it and is unsurprised when she speaks next,“For Christ’s sake Ruby let her breathe. She’s probably only had her initial meeting with him.”

Ruby seems to get the hint and it doesn’t take long before Ms is in the kitchen helping Emma pick up the leftover pizza, “We’re happy for you, Emma. He’s a huge client for them, they obviously trust you to do a good job.” Emma nods in thanks and they both head back into the living room. Her sister-in-law’s warmth always calms her (and Ruby) down which allows David to jump in and change the subject to the coverage of some football player’s arrest on SportsCenter. Emma finally catches a breath and realizes just how lucky she is for the friend dynamic they have before settling in to debate if this James Spencer kid should still be eligible for the draft.

As she lays in bed that night, Ms’ words ring through her head. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions she’s been feeling, Killian is a huge client, one that was formerly represented by a namesake for the company. This re energizes her a bit and helps her fall asleep, actually excited for what's to come.

She wakes up Sunday morning and makes Henry some pancakes and declares it a lazy Sunday. Henry happily obliged, cuddling up on the couch with The Deathly Hallows while Emma threw on some shitty reality TV.

. . .

When her alarm rings Monday morning, Emma pulls her pillow over her head like some teenager from one of those Disney Channel movies.

It takes her a second to remember what day it is and why she’s up at this godforsaken hour.

Killian Jones. Right.

She audibly groans before rolling out of bed and getting ready for the day. Between her shower and breakfast she gets Henry up. School starts at 8 so he’s technically running a bit behind but he’ll make it on the bus in time… hopefully.

She’s pouring him a bowl of cereal when he comes out of his room zipping up his sweater and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, kid. Coco Puffs or Fruit Loops?” He mumbles some semblance of what she thinks is Fruit Loops so she pours the bowl and slides it across the kitchen island. He smiles in thanks as she pours her own bowl and sits beside him.

“So today’s the big day?”

She didn’t tell Henry about her new client and when she spoke to the Nolan’s and Ruby, he was definitely supposed to be sleeping. “How could you possibly know that?”

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are and I’m not as tired as you think I am.” He yawns as if to punctuate his point.

“Uh huh, sure, kid.” He gives her a knowing glance and she realizes she’s not getting out of this. She runs her hands over her face and sighs, “Yes, today is the first meeting and I’m only slightly nervous to fu— screw this whole thing up.”

Henry chuckles at her attempted censorship (she never said she was a perfect parent), “You’ll be great, Mom, and Hook seems like a decent enough guy. I’m sure he won’t give you too much trouble.”

She stares at Henry a bit dumbfounded. It shocks her everyday how old he’s getting– nine going on nineteen for sure.  “Are you hiding some Weasley’s Extendable Ears in your room or something? Are you a wizard? Should you be at Hogwarts?” Emma is very obviously trying to derail this conversation but it works, setting Henry off about how he’s finally on the sixth book and explaining the concept of a horcrux.

Oh, her sweet summer child.

God, maybe he is old enough for UFC.

When did that happen?

She ushers Henry to the bus, promising him they’ll watch the sixth movie tonight if he finishes the book today and is to school on time. It’s only September and he can’t be late three times in the first month of school. She kisses his forehead and he wishes her good luck.

Sometimes she wonders how such a screw up ended up with the perfect kid.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Emma finishes getting ready. She jumps on the subway and finds herself at the office with a half hour to spare. She’s never early so she chalks it up to nerves and uses the time to prep for this meeting.

Over the weekend she received multiple emails from Gold’s team surrounding a possible spot for Killian on the card for the pay-per-view Fight Night in November.

A pay-per-view card. She did enough research about Killian this weekend to know that would be his first.

Emma feels like she’s been thrown into the deep end before being taught how to swim.

Go big or go home.

She did a lot of research about Killian and learned practically nothing. She knows he came here from London almost ten years ago and that his team includes his head trainer Robin (husband of now former manager Regina Mills), and three other men named Will Scarlett, August Booth, and William Smee (he’s really selling it with that whole Hook theme). Other than that all she found was his record and highlights. He’s 6-0 which is insane for only being in the circuit for a year and a half– fighters are usually limited to three, maybe four fights a year.

4 of his 6 are knockouts.

He’s good… really good.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a light tapping on the edge of her cubicle. She glances up to find none other than the man himself. She can’t help but double take.

Real professional, Emma.

She's only ever seen him in the ring, at the gym, or dressed up for a business meeting. She’s not sure what she expected, but a leather jacket and pants that fit him like his own skin definitely weren’t it.

He looks good… really good.

Emma snaps herself out of it, “Hi, Mr. Jones, just give me a moment and we can head to the conference room.”

“It’s Killian, love, please.” She notices he winces at the seemingly habitual pet name. Emma ignores the ring of disappointment that runs through her gut at the realization that it may not be reserved for her. “A conference room’s a bit formal, don’t you think? Let’s get out of here, Swan.”

He grabs her hand before she can answer. “Mr.— Killian. Is this allowed?”

He chuckles. “We can plan the meetings at our leisure,” he says the last bit in an almost scary imitation of Regina, “but even still, Regina and I never met in office. A bit silly for two people to take up an entire conference room, yeah? Come on, lass, try something new. It’s called trust.”

Emma rolls her eyes but follows along anyway. The elevator ride should’ve been awkward but Killian kept the conversation flowing by asking her preferred drink. “Coffee, tea, or smoothies?”

Despite the risk of sounding like a child, Emma finds herself being honest with him, “Uhh, I actually prefer hot chocolate… with cinnamon.”

He smiles brightly at her, as though her drink order was the most brilliant discovery this century, “Perfect, Swan. I know just the place.”

She was so swept up in his ambush, she doesn’t realize that this isn’t the cocky, asshat Killian Jones she sees on tv or at the gym until he’s practically dragging her across the street to a small cafe. This Killian seems genuine and carries this almost childlike excitement.

Emma tells herself she has no interest in learning more about this Killian.

(Emma doesn’t have to tell herself that that is complete bullshit.)

. . .

He can’t stop himself from beaming when she offers up her drink order without hesitation. Killian feels like a bloody teenager around her. He promised himself he wouldn’t feel this way again, but something about Emma Swan has completely entranced him.

He finds himself fascinated with every part of her, including the small things, like the fact she takes cinnamon on her hot chocolate.

Once they get to the cafe across the street, Killian forces himself to dial it back. He can tell she’s guarded and as much as he’d like to be friends (more than friends) with the lass, he knows business has to come first.

It wouldn’t exactly be a good look for him if he ran “The Savior” out of the office on her second day.

Somehow he thinks he doesn’t have that power.

He’d like to. (Obviously not to run her out of the office, but he’d like his existence to mean that much to her.)

Bloody hell, he's being ridiculous.

They sit down across from each other at a small table by the window. He expects to start the conversation but before he can form a coherent thought she’s speaking.

“So, Killian. I’ve already received some correspondence from Gold’s team. I’m not sure how much time you usually take between fights and I know it’s already the end of September but…”

She’s rambling and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anybody so adorable when they’re nervous.

Adorable is not a professional descriptor.

Killian Jones doesn’t want “professional” with Emma Swan.

Fuck.

“...Gold is hoping to get you on the main card for November 14th.”

Did she just say main card?

He chokes on his coffee.

“Main card, Swan? I’ve never been on the main card. Strictly early prelims…”

She eyes him suspiciously, “Usually that’s a good thing. Upward momentum and all that. His team is clearly impressed by your dominant record.”

“Is his team the only one impressed?” The flirt escapes him before he can stop it.  

Bloody idiot.

She doesn’t even bat an eye, “The entire league seems to be impressed, Jones.” Her tone tells him she knows what just happened but she shut it down immediately.

He likes a challenge.

Emma Swan may be his favorite challenge yet.

Emma Swan is off limits, but Killian will be damned if he cares.

. . .

Emma is surprised when Killian pays for their drinks despite her insistence that she can charge it to Mills Management. She’s also surprised by how nice he is.

She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She’s still waiting.

He’s definitely flirtatious, every other sentence being easily twisted into some sort of innuendo, but she can tell it’s a front. The little things he does like tipping the barista an extra fifty cents or holding the door for her, let on to the man behind the persona.

Well, and the fact he practically chokes when she tells him they want him for the main card.

He seems genuinely shocked that anyone would be impressed by him. His mask comes out almost immediately, another innuendo laced into his question. She doesn’t let him go there, shutting it down as quickly as it started. For this to work, she needs him the real him. Not the cocky MMA fighter who he used to catch the eye of UFC execs. She compliments him, and it’s beyond genuine. That seems to calm his nerves a bit as they move into social media management and he shifts into a professionalism she’s not entirely prepared for.

She’s not sure she wants professional Killian Jones.

Whoa, Emma, pump the breaks.

She shakes it off as she watches him take notes on what she’s saying about the importance of a lead up on Twitter and how it can set the tone for the entire fight. His tongue runs along the inside of his lower lip as he concentrates and she can’t help the overwhelming wave of attraction that hits her.

Like lightning.

It’s not just the tongue, (but that’s not helping) it’s his dedication to this sport and how he actually gives a fuck about what she’s saying. Killian never displayed even a hint of the deeply rooted misogyny that runs rampant throughout the industry. He actually seems almost humbled by her presence. The words escape her mouth before she can’t stop them, “Why are you actually taking anything I say seriously?”

Very professional, Emma. Way to instill confidence in your client. Smooth.

His head snaps up at her abrupt question and he looks confused. “I know you don’t like being called a legend, Swan, but you were a damn good fighter. If I walk out of this partnership with half the following and success you had, I’d call that a win.”

She’s stunned by his sincerity.

Brick. Wall. (She thinks she hears Pink Floyd somewhere in the distance.)

“And I suppose you think you know all about me from our, what, three conversations now?” She knows it’s snippy, that’s the point.

He stops typing and puts his phone down. “Pardon me, love, but you’re a bit of an open book.”

Emma scoffs, “Anyone with the internet knows I prefer people don’t call me a legend.”

“Aye, but do they know it’s because you feel too young with a career too short to have made an impact? That you feel choosing yourself, a life, over MMA removes all glory from your name?”

Emma is entirely shaken by his apparent ability to read her like a fucking picture book. (Does that even make sense? Do you read picture books?) Emma never had a formal retirement ceremony; gloves in the middle of the ring and all that. She had asked Gold to be taken off the roster and for a quiet exit and that’s what he’d given her. The public doesn’t know the real reason she left MMA, her attempt at keeping Henry’s life as normal as possible, but somehow Killian–

Brick. Brick. Brick.

“Let’s talk about Instagram.” She sees the disappointment sweep across his face, realizing she can read him pretty well too. That’s terrifying.

Way more terrifying than social media plans.

They keep it strictly business for the rest of the meeting. She’s startled when her stomach rumbles and she checks the time.

12:00. They’ve been strategizing for three hours.

She’s not sure where the time went, and when Killian asks her if she wants to grab a bite to eat together, she’s startled again by her initial gut reaction to say yes.

Obviously, she says no and makes up some lie about needing to get back to the office. He knows it’s a lie, she can see it all over his face. He doesn’t push her though, and she’s grateful. They set their next meeting and Emma’s heart speeds up, seemingly unaware that this is a business meeting and not a date. She shakes his hand and promises to have a full plan ready for Thursday before practically sprinting out of the cafe.

In three conversations Killian Jones has gone from asshat to… who knows. One thing Emma does know is that Killian Jones is off limits to the highest of ethical degrees. But what scares her most, is that she’s not entirely sure she cares.

. . .

As soon as he asks her to lunch he knows he’s pushed too far.

Actually, he perhaps pushed too far by letting on just how easy it was for him to read her, but lunch, well that was just asking for a brick wall. He runs his hands across his face, completely taken with someone he has no right to. She’s witty, smart, and could probably kick his ass— scratch that, could definitely kick his ass— but she also has demons, he can see them swimming behind her eyes. Demons that seem scarily similar to his, maybe not on the surface but definitely in their damage. Emma is raw and unapologetic; a real human being who is, for all intents and purposes, unimpressed by the suave persona of Killian “Hook” Jones.

She’s bloody perfect.

He’s fucking fucked.

Eloquent.

Killian decides to grab a quick lunch from the cafe and head to the gym. He has a lot of pent up frustration and really feels the need to punch something. Thank god that’s his job. He scarfs down his sandwich, not realizing how hungry he was and jumps on the subway to the training center. He miraculously finds a seat and is able to scroll through his phone a bit. As he pokes around Twitter he finds an article announcing Emma “The Savior” Swan’s comeback to the UFC. He clicks on it, curiosity getting the better of him despite probably knowing the gist of the article.

He didn’t expect a timeline of her very impressive career:

2008: Swan joins the UFC with her Boston gym. Her debut match against Aurora Rose ended in a TKO. She’s back in action six months later fighting Ella Tremaine. She wins again, this time after three rounds by split decision.

2009: A dominant start to the year for The Savior with a first round submission against Tiana Dampier in January. She rounded out her year with another first round submission against El Oldenburg in May, and a third round knockout against Esmerelda Gringoire in October.

2010: Swan goes three rounds with Merida Baer and wins by unanimous decision. Swan wins again after three rounds by split decision against Megara Alcmene. The Savior’s final match is a KO against Mulan Fa rounding out her record to 8-0. Her next match, meant to be for the women’s title, was declined with no comment from The Savior.

2020: Swan joins Mills Management as a talent manager assigned to Killian “Hook” Jones.

Killian knew Swan was good, an early legend in her own right, but he had no idea she was this dominant. He also had no idea she left without so much as a wave goodbye. He figured he’d just missed the announcement seeing as it came well before his introduction into the sport. Against his typical moral code, he tries to google why she left but finds nothing. She knocks out Mulan Fa and then just stops being added to cards and fades away as new fighters take her place.

He knows there’s a reason for her secrecy and he’d be lying if he said curiosity was the only driving force behind his attempt to learn more. He finds himself wanting to know everything there is to know about Emma Swan; a deeper part of him aches for her to be the one who tells him.

He’s positive he can only dream of gaining that level of trust from her, but he has to try. Liam's words ring heavy in his ears, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

He gets off at the stop closest to the training center and walks through the front doors, waving to Belle at the front desk before heading into the locker room. He’s fortunate to be on the UFC roster, allowing him to keep his training gear at the center and not have to worry about lugging it around with him. It also gives him the freedom to come here whenever he needs to let off some steam. He changes quickly and finds a treadmill to warm up. He jogs a mile and a half before picking up the pace. Killian’s in the midst of his runner’s high when someone steps into the machine next to him. He turns his head to offer them a small smile in hello, it’s not that big of a gym, exclusive to the UFC industry and a few friends of friends, so chances are he knows the person at least in passing.

Oh, Killian knows them alright, and he practically falls off the treadmill when he sees her green eyes blown wide.

[brieannakeogh]

Dog Days of Summer- Ch 16 Epilogue

Dog Days of Summer- Chris Evans X plus sized reader. Dog days of summer are usually defined as the hottest of the year, some define it as lazy days. This year ‘hottest’ has nothing to do with the outside temp. You meet Chris and Dodger Evans while taking your own dog to the park.

Previous Chapter / Master List

Chapter 16 Epilogue

A loud metal sound from the knock at the door woke you up. It had only been a nap so the sunlight still came in the window beside the bed. Grunting irritably you reach beside you to push Chris awake, only to find nothing in the bed. Another loud knock came back. “Hold your horses, I’ll be there in a minute!” You groan and find yourself a little dizzy since you sat up too quick. Slipping off the bed you waddle the short few feet to the door of the trailer. The set assistant looks embarrassed to have woken you up. 

“I’m sorry. I just needed to drop off the new script papers for Chris. I didn’t know he wasn’t here.” 

You glance at the clock and it does seem a bit later than he should be back. “He’s probably still doing set work. Sometimes it takes longer.” You shrug and take the papers. “I’ll pass it on when he gets back.” Closing the door, you walk slowly directly across from the door to the couch, sitting yourself and the paperwork down on it. Leaning back, eyes closed while your head is cushioned from back springs. You were still tired, but it wasn’t unusual anymore. It had been over a year since the two of you started dating, and only a few months shy from when you found out how much you loved each other. It brought a smile to your face thinking about the after effects. 

What the two of you had talked about was all supposed to be reasonable. He was going to go back to the set and you were going to keep up at the new job, which of course lasted less than a month. At the time you were extremely worried about how he would react when you asked if you could join him at his last movie set. The “Thank God!” he replied to you, still makes you chuckle. 

Everything the two of you had talked about never came slowly, like you had discussed. It was all quick and spontaneous, exactly like how your relationship started. The move in was hectic. Originally you assumed you would keep the apartment while you were living on the set with him, just in case it didn’t work out, but Chris got movers to get all of your things to his Boston condo within days. All you had to take to his set was clothing. 

The second surprising timing was during his second movie since you had been dating. You had gone with him to stay on set, making friends with some of his co-actors and people who worked behind the scenes. They had hangouts after work, going drinking at the bar near the set. It was always fun, but Chris would drink quicker than you and go to his loud, happy personality most nights, including the one where his stunt double picked on him about how you were living together already. 

“Of course we are!” Chris shouted, throwing an arm around your waist. “It’s not like we aren’t getting married next year.” 

“What?” You choked on the sip you had in your mouth. 

“Yeah…?” His face went from wondering what was wrong with you, to eyes wide in surprise. “Oh! I forgot I hadn’t asked you yet! I was waiting to buy a good ring. Maybe tomorrow we can go get one? I wasn’t 100% sure what you would prefer, so this would be much better, right?” 

“Yeah, perfect idea.” Drinking the rest of glass down to keep your nerves in check. He stuck with it the next morning, which really made you know about his tolerance to alcohol. 

Of course since he surprises you with the proposal, you knew you had to surprise him with the other bit of info before the wedding. You had stuck it in a box, wrapped it with some holiday paper and a bow, even though it wasn’t near the holiday, and set it in his seat at home. He was looking for the third movie and had gone out to his interview with the director, giving you plenty of time to set him up. He knew you were up to something as he unwrapped his ‘present’ but went super excited when he saw what was inside. At least until he dropped the tester and went to wash his hands. “Next time don’t give me the thing you pee onto! Maybe just a doctor’s test showing it.” he shouted from the kitchen sink. 

You giggled holding your pregnancy bump on the couch remembering his expression. Now you just needed to figure out what you were going to do a few years from now when it happens again. It was about this time the door opens and Chris walks in the trailer. “What are you laughing about?” He asks smiling at you. 

“Just thinking about what I should do the next time this happens.” You pat your bump which makes the baby kick in the same spot. It wasn’t much longer and knew he or she would come out to surprise both of you before the movie was done. 

“Well just make sure we have number two after the wedding. I still can’t figure out why you wanted to wait on that.” He sits beside you, moving the paperwork to the side table. 

“It’s simple. I want to be in a sexy corset during the wedding, not a pregnancy dress. Plus if we do it in a couple of years we’ll have a walking baby to bring the rings instead of Dodger.” 

“I still think Dodger is the best prospect.” 

“Fine we’ll do both and we know Popcorn will just be bored in a seat.” 

“Both it is Mrs. Evans.” 

“Now Mr. Evans, you should remember I’ll keep my own name.” 

“Hmf, we’ll see what you do after the wedding.” He whispers close to your own lips, before taking them in to repeat every kiss you can’t get enough of. Who knows what the future holds? 

It’s the end! Hopefully you all enjoyed this. I just had this feeling that if Chris decided to do something time is NOT going to be involved lol. I’ve still got bunch of partially written things that I hadn’t even posted, we’ll see how I do on those. Have a great weekend and an awesome Holiday next month!

@spidey-babe-parker​,  @stevieang​, @albinotigerpython​, @paintballkid711​, @katykyll​, @avengersrulez1536​, @ultrafreespirit​, @wantingtobekorra​,   @i-had-a-life-once​,  @ghostssss​​, @babybeluuga​​, @bodhi-black​​,  @kanupps06​​, @hatterripper31​, @grandloser​, @reniescarlett​, @kjidhzyx​, @normanreedus5150​, @ilovethings-somuch​, @spiderman-2013​, @bloodyvalentine93​, @xx-raven​, @passionghost​, @prettybubblesintheair​, @averyrogers83​,  @ria132love​, @patzammit​, @whom-the-fack​, @pooslie​, @3dsaunt, @kristiedwyer, @janeyboo​, @theonelittleone​, @aslandia726​, @itsmysticalmystery​, @stanclub, @geminimoonbeamx​​, @lookwhatyoumademequeue​, @eyesfixedonthesun22​, @mrsalh32611​, @whatmakesmebeme-tblr​, @isaxhorror​, @kateelyse96​, @hidden-treasures21​, @aubreystilinski, @tnupsweetpie​, @mikaelasingswritesloves​, @webcraft4eveh​, @fanfictionandjunk, @elizabeth-marie-moon​, @linesal​, @cjmyerhaan​, @cevansgirl​, @collinsstanharbour​, @i-was-petmanger, @bononoh, @justlistenlovelife​

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Mahiru has the ability to see ghosts and uses it to disprove frauds. (KuroMahi, Supernatural/Mystery AU)

“I’m sorry but this seat is taken. I’m saving it for my friend. He should be here in a minute.” Mahiru told a man before he could sit in the seat next to him. The train wasn’t busy so he was able to find another seat easily. Mahiru leaned against the window and watched the people on the platform. He felt a little drowsy since it was early in the morning.

Beside him, Kuro said: “You could give him this seat. I don’t mind standing. I’m just a ghost after all.”

Mahiru wanted to reply to him immediately but he couldn’t when there were people around them. He took out his phone and pretended to call someone. He leaned closer to Kuro and said: “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that. I would rather sit next to you than a stranger. You might not be here physically but you’re still a part of my world.”

His last sentence was a whisper meant for only him. Mahiru was able to see and talk to ghosts since he was a child. He had been afraid of his abilities until he met Kuro. Speaking with him helped Mahiru understand ghosts and learn that they weren’t vengeful like the movies portrayed. Most ghosts, like Kuro, were simply lost. Ghosts didn’t have their memories of their time alive.

“We’re going to arrive in the station in a few hours so let’s rest while we can. Hopefully, this job will be easy.” Mahiru leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. He could see ghosts but he never met someone with the same ability. On the other hand, there were many who claimed they could. Fake psychics would prey on grieving people and promise to connect them to the loved one they lost. Mahiru decided to use his ability to disprove those psychics.

The train pulled away from the station and Mahiru pretended to make another call. People would assume he was crazy if they saw him speaking to an empty seat. He developed little tricks and routines so he could talk with Kuro often. While he could be quiet, Mahiru liked spending time with him. “There’s a national garden near the town we’re going to. Do you want to check it out?”

In the corner of his eye, Mahiru noticed the man from earlier approach them again. “Excuse me. It looks like your friend didn’t make it. I could sit next to you and keep you company.”

“It’s okay, Sir. I’m on the phone with my boyfriend so I already have great company. Phones make long distance relationship easier, don’t they? I’m going to visit him actually.” Mahiru lied. He wasn’t in a relationship but he wanted to politely reject the man. He slipped off his jacket and placed it over Kuro’s lap. “This seat is for my things. Have a nice day and enjoy your trip.”

The man didn’t seem to be discouraged though. He only became more persistent. When he tried to take his sweater off the seat, a chill suddenly filled the space around them. Mahiru wasn’t scared by it but the man was. He timidly excused himself and went back to his seat. Once he was too far to hear them, Mahiru started to laugh. “Thank you for the rescue, Kuro.”

“I wonder if he thinks your fake boyfriend sent that cold breeze over the phone or something. That’s more believable than the fact that you’re haunted.” Mahiru was an attractive man so people would often approach him and flirt with him. He never seemed interested in anyone though. Kuro couldn’t bring himself to ask him if he liked someone. He was afraid he would be indirectly rejected.

Mahiru looked up at him and smiled. That simple sight was enough to make his still heart race. “If I have to be haunted by a ghost, I’m glad it’s a lazy one like you.”

“The client’s name is Hyde Lawless Servamp. He said he’ll meet us at the station so we can talk before meeting the psychic.” Mahiru whispered to Kuro as they stepped off the train. He scanned the platform for anyone who could be waiting. “I spoke with him over the phone but I don’t know what he looks like. Do you want to walk around?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we sit on a bench and wait for him to approach us?” Kuro suggested. In answer, he shook his head and gestured for him to follow. He walked through the crowd until he found a less populated area. Mahiru wanted to hold his hand so they wouldn’t lose each other but Kuro was a ghost. Their hands would simply pass through each other.

He noticed a blond man sitting on a bench and he was glancing around the crowd. “That man could be Hyde. He must’ve had the same idea you did, Kuro. Let’s go and check. Excuse me! Could you be Hyde? My name is Mahiru Shirota and we spoke over the phone about a psychic.”

“Yeah, I’m Hyde. It’s nice to meet you. Can we go somewhere with less people so we can talk in private? I don’t want anyone to overhear us.” Mahiru nodded and they left the train station. He understood why he didn’t want others to overhear their conversation about ghosts and psychics. They found a small café and sat at a table outside.

Mahiru sat across from him and opened a notebook in front of him. “Can you tell me about the psychic that approached your family? You’ve told me that he has done a few readings at your home already but what did he do specifically? It’ll help me find his tricks if I already know his routine.”

He wrote down the ritual Hyde described even though Mahiru would immediately know if the psychic was a fake with his ability. Either he would find that there were no ghosts in the home or discover the fraud couldn’t identify them. Kuro would often help him as well. “When I join the séance, we will tell the psychic I’m a relative so he won’t be suspicious.”

“We’re having one tonight. Hopefully, you can reveal his tricks then. I just want to get that man out of Lily’s head. He wants to talk to Ash again but… That asshole is giving him false hope and Lily’s giving him a paycheque. I tried to talk some sense into him but nothing worked. You’re my last hope to get through to him.” Hyde’s hands tightened into fists.

“I understand that you’re angry but we need to keep our cool, Hyde. Con artists will run when we start to ask too many questions. Give me an hour and I should be able to find how he rigged the séance.” Mahiru promised him. He was also angry that he was taking advantage of the family but tried to appear professional. They continued to discuss how to approach the psychic for a while.

He noticed that Kuro was more quiet than usual. His eyes appeared a little troubled and Mahiru wanted to ask if something was bothering him. Yet, he couldn’t since Hyde was sitting across from them. He would have to wait until they were alone to ask him.

“This is a nice home you have.” Mahiru said as he walked into the house. He slipped off his shoes as he glanced around the hall. The psychic would arrive in an hour and Mahiru wanted to speak with the family. He looked under the table to see if anything was tampered with. “He brings his own equipment to the séance. I might be able to recognize it since I’ve seen a lot in my work.”

“He claims to know details about Ash’s death and life. That’s how he convinced Lily that he could connect to him. We live in a small town so he could’ve gotten a lot of information about us easily.” Hyde sat at the table. He leaned his head in his hands and sighed. He could never forget the night he lost his brother. “There was a fire and Ash got trapped inside. It was on the news.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Mahiru patted his shoulder. He knew that loss and grief were complicated. He walked to the shrine in the corner of the room to pay his respect. Kuro was already standing in front of the shrine and his face was pale. He whispered to him, “Are you okay, Kuro?”

“It’s me.” He said in disbelief. He looked over his shoulder to the photo on the shrine and he was shocked to see that it was Kuro. Kuro never expected to meet his family since he didn’t have his memories. Mahiru wanted to comfort him but his hand simply passed through him. He wished he could touch him and hold him. “I thought Hyde and this place seemed familiar but…”

There was a knock on the door and Hyde went to answer the door. While he was gone, Mahiru looked over the pictures on the wall. Kuro stood among his siblings and he appeared happy and content with them. Mahiru touched his image and turned to him. He was still staring at the shrine. His eyes appeared far away and he wondered if he was remembering his past.

“What do you mean you want more money? That’s double the charge of the last séance you did.” He heard Hyde’s voice in the hall. They walked outside to find Hyde arguing with a man. From his words earlier, Mahiru could guess that he was the psychic. Anger boiled within him when he thought of how he was taking advantage of Kuro’s family.

He stormed to the psychic and slapped the man across his face. Mahiru couldn’t hold back his anger and he shouted: “We’re not giving you another cent! How dare you use people’s emotions and desperation to line your pockets? I’m not going to let you continue hurting these people with false hope. Leave before I call the police on your scam.”

Kuro had seen Mahiru upset before but this was the angriest he witnessed him. Hyde was in shock as well because he told him to stay composed earlier. Mahiru slammed the door in the man’s face and leaned against the wood. He sighed and turned around to face Hyde. “I’m sorry for bursting like that.”

“You said everything I wanted to. I’m worried about how we’re going to convince Lily after you sent him away like that. We need proof to convince him that the psychic is a sham.” Hyde pointed out. He was right and Mahiru regretted being so impulsive. They originally planned to prove the truth in the middle of the séance. He tried to think of something they could do.

Kuro whispered into his ear and Mahiru repeated the words. “Your brother was returning home when he saw the house on fire. Almost everyone was outside but he couldn’t see you so he ran inside. You were at your boyfriend’s house even though you were grounded that night. Ash wasn’t angry when he realized that. He was just happy that you were safe.”

Hyde stared at him in disbelief and took a step back from him. Mahiru didn’t know if he believed him or not. He wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. He saw how his hands shook. “Did you hear that on the news? If you’re going to try to play the same trick as that psychic, I’m going to throw you out.”

“You have every play of Shakespeare memorized but it’s not because you love his plays. You enjoy his work but there was a girl you loved. Ophelia was the reason you know his plays so well. Then, you fell in love with Licht and tried to learn the piano. You were less good at that. Terrible, actually. Ash was worried you wouldn’t find an interest for yourself.”

“Can you talk to my brother? Is his ghost here?” Hyde’s voice trembled and Mahiru slowly nodded. He explained how he met him in Tokyo and that they had been traveling together for years.

“He doesn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened, Hyde. He loves his family.” Mahiru placed his hand on Hyde’s shoulder. “I’ll speak with Lily and he’ll listen to Ash about the psychic.”

“It’s great that we found your family and gave them some closure. Can I continue to call you Kuro though? After all these years, I’m used to calling you Kuro.” Mahiru sat on the bed. The family allowed him to stay the night. He was honestly happy for Kuro but a part of him was sad as well. “I guess you’ll be staying here and watching over them now. You belong here, after all.”

“Mahiru,” He whispered his name and instinctively reached out to cup his face. They were both surprised when he didn’t pass through him. Mahiru placed his hands over Kuro’s and felt how warm they were. It was the first time they could touch each other. He wondered if it was because they were in his childhood home and his spirit was stronger there.

Kuro pulled him closer and rested his forehead against his. “Before I met you, I was wandering around the world alone. I was lost. Then you found me and gave me a home. I need you and that hasn’t changed. The only thing that changed was the reason. I want to continue travelling Japan and help you disprove those fake psychics. Do you mind if I haunt you a little longer?”

“Please, stay with me. I promise we’ll visit your family often.” He circled his arms around his neck. Without thinking, Mahiru kissed him. He quickly remembered himself and pulled back. “That was too forward of me. I kissed you without knowing how you feel towards me. I’m sorry.”

Kuro brushed his fingers through his brown hair and felt how soft it was. He gently turned his face to him and their lips brushed together. “I love you, Mahiru.”

Mahiru clutched his clothes and pressed himself closer to him. It was unbelievable that he could finally hold him like he wanted to. He pulled away and smiled up at him. “I love you too, Kuro.”

“Mahiru—” Kuro paused when Mahiru placed his finger over his lips. Another kiss replaced his finger and Mahiru lightly pushed him back onto the bed.

“You have to be quiet since your family might be able to hear us.”

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about that than me?” Kuro teased and made Mahiru chuckle.

[blissfulparker]

MatchMaker→Peter Parker

Summary→when you and peter Parker work for some of the most admired people in America and realize they don’t have someone to love, the two of you decide to play a game of match making to hopefully get something for them and something for you.

Warnings→none yet

A/n→this is a very short part to the beginning because I mostly didn’t know how to give a grand introduction, but the second part I have half written and it’s way longer than this. Also this was based off the Netflix movie ‘set it up’ that I adored!

Jobs. Everyone had a job. Everyone had a boss that went with their job. Just because you had a boss, that didn’t mean they had to be nice to you.

You worked in the Stark tower, Tony Stark’s Tower. You finally got the job at a place you walked passed on the street on the way to school as a kid. You worked as Pepper Potts assistant, not exactly where you wished to stand in the business but you worked with one of the higher authority’s so that made your day even if her personality sometimes didn’t.

“I need the file here by Monday and if the file isn’t here by Monday then you can expect to see your stuff in a box, waiting at your desk, ready for you to leave!” She walked in on the phone into her office where you stood waiting for her.

It was now 12:08am, you’ve been here since 7:00am, and currently it took everything not to fall over and go to sleep right now.

“(Y/n), what the hell are you still doing here?” She huffs as she took a seat at her desk and you gave a sleepy smile.

“I can’t leave until you leave, Mrs.Potts.” You tell her and she sighs grabbing a pen before looking at you.

“Pepper, it’s Pepper. I forgot that. But since you’re here, Can you order me that sushi from that one place I had last time?” She groans and you nod knowing exactly what she was talking about. It’s been the same sushi restaurant for a year yet she still never remembers the name.

“Of course, anything else?” You ask and she looks up.

“My weekend schedule?” She asks and you pull out the paper and read it off.

“Saturday you have a baby shower but I canceled because you Don’t like her and so I sent a card with the check. Which means now you have a hair appointment for your roots at 4:30pm and that doesn’t overlap with the dinner at 7:00pm. I sat you next to agent fury instead of agent Maria because you are upset with each other right now. On Sunday you want no one to talk to you so set your phone to do not disturb mode and also you have a spa appointment at 2:00pm.” You gulp and she squints her eyes, she never showed if she was impressed by the way you knew everything but you somewhat hoped she was.

“You should set a spa appointment for yourself.” She remarks and you nod.

“I will definitely look into that.” You press your lips together. “I’ll order that sushi.” You quickly leave the room back to your desk right outside her office and sigh before calling the number you know by heart.

You never thought your college life would be like this, working late nights and going home to do more school work that was possibly already late. You knew Pepper probably better than you knew yourself and you loved working for her. But on nights like these you questioned why you did this.

-

Peter Parker sat at his desk and organized files from A to Z. He on the other hand, didn’t mind having a stressful boss. Not many people could be Mr. Stark’s assistant. Even though he loved his boss, he hated nights like these where he could be home right now asleep but is staring at endless names of people he didn’t care about.

“Kid, What are you still doing here.” Tony threw his hands up in the air and peter nearly fell out of his seat since the statement woke him up.

“I have to do these files, the one where you said put it to A to Z.” He nearly snores out and tony sighed.

“Forgot about those, can you order dinner? I want cheeseburgers, get yourself a cheeseburger too.” Tony handed him a fifty and peter shoved the money into his pocket before getting up to run downstairs to get his boss some food.

“On it Mr.Stark.” He says as he drags himself over to the stairs. He hated elevators because he always remembers the time his friends got stuck in one.

So he makes eyes with the door that says staircase. His face goes even longer than before and he grips the door handle and gets ready to walk down.

Eight coffee cups, one energy drink, endless pencil tapping, was no match for walking down the stairs when Peter Parker was tired.

-

“You’re short ten.” The man who held the box of sushi counted out only $20. You sighed as you tried to look for an extra ten but couldn’t seem to find one.

“Okay! I may be short ten, but I order from you every Friday! Every Friday! Please I will pay you double next time if that means I can take this now.” You cry out and the sound of feet running behind you snap you up.

“I have ten! I have—how much is that?” Peter pulls out his wallet. You swore you’ve seen him before running around with papers in his hand but you weren’t sure, lots of boys had brown curls and a nerdy look.

“Thirty.” The man says still unamused by the now two young adults getting ready to fight for their bosses food.

“Hey! No! This is my food for my boss. I need this food.” You look at the boy with chocolate brown eyes with red around them. “Can I borrow ten?” You plead.

“Nope.” He popped the P. “I have the money, my boss is hungry, therefore I get the shushi.” He takes the box before quickly jogging away. The man hands you back your twenty before you run after the boy.

“Wait!” You shout causing the boy to hault. He turns around seeing you nearly out of breath pointing to the box. “Let’s split it.” You say and he rolls his eyes but feels almost bad for you because you are here too.

He gives a lazy eye roll before holding out the box to let you do your magic.

“Yes!” You smile as you take the box and set it down. “Okay, I get the spicy tuna and you get the California roll which leaves us to have the dragon roll to ourselves.” You say and he folds his arms and has his lips in between his teeth.

“No way! I’m not giving Mr. Stark and plain California roll with nothing else.” He says and you groan.

“Okay fine! You get half of the—wait you work for Tony Stark? Never mind! Half the dragon roll.” You argue and he shakes his head.

“No, the whole thing.” He argues back and you give up and take the spicy tuna roll. You take the plastic container and peter holds the other one.

“Why are you even here so late?” You ask and he looks at you and rasises his brows.

“Could ask you the same. I work for Mr. Stark. And I can’t leave until Mr.Stark leaves, or at least until he passes out in his desk.” He says proudly and you scoff a little out of jealousy but at the same time you didn’t really care.

“I work for Pepper Potts.” You say proudly as well. He gives you a look then shakes his head. The two of you approach the elevator and peter stops.

“I don’t do elevators.” He says and you stop as well.

“Why? it’s not that big of a deal.” You shrug pressing the elevator button.

“No, I just don’t do them—“ he starts and you walk in and pull him in as well.

“Look, just the two of us. It’s fine, if it were more people I understand.” You press the going up.

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head and then looks up. “What do you do?” He asks you and you look somewhat up at the pretty boy.

“I’m just an assistant but a super cool one that no one else is...” you trail off the last part quietly and peter hums down.

“What was that?” He asked and you looked the other way.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You tap the box with your hands and peter looks around too.

“What about you?” You ask and he shrugs.

“I’m—im an assistant yeah.” He nodded trying to find the best way to put that he’s secretly an avenger and at the same time Tony Stark’s assistant.

“Meet anyone cool?” He asks and you nod.

“Yeah, yeah, once met the winter soldier. Thought he was gonna kill me but I guess not. Oh and I take mail from Carol Danvers if that means anything.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal when it was the biggest deal.

“I wash iron mans suit.” He whispered to more himself than to you and you furrowed your brows at him and he smiled a toothy smile.

“This is my Stop.” He nods. “If I’m more than two seconds late I’m dead. Nice meeting you I guess? Also I want my $40!” He points and you throw your hand up.

“It was $30!” You tell him as the door is closing.

“Don’t make it $50!” He points and then opens the box. “Also, Mr.Stark hates dragon rolls so that was for me!” He shouts and then laughs a maniacal laugh.

“I hate you!” You shout before the elevator takes you two more floors up. You stood there worried for how your boss might take only getting her spicy tuna roll when you heard her arguing on the phone.

You sighed as you walked though the hall hoping that this situation wouldn’t get you fired or yelled at. Your steps got slower as you approached the office door, you were tired and exhausted. The air stopped working at around 10:30 so for the past two hours you’ve been hot.

You started thinking about how the only two people left in this building were Tony Stark and your boss Pepper Potts. Everyone else had a family to go home to or a boyfriend/girlfriend. Everyone went home to someone except for them. You knew tony stark lived in the next building over but pepper didn’t, she lived in a penthouse only fifteen minutes from here.

That’s when it hit you. Everyone needed love, everyone needed someone to keep them grounded and neither of them had that. They were both getting older and you knew pepper was upset about not having any marriage or kids at this point. You couldn’t speak for tony but by the way the boy you met downstairs acted it seemed like his boss was no better than yours.

“Holy shit.” You nearly drop the box. “This is perfect!” You quickly pick up the pace to the room where your boss still sat on the phone now yelling at a possible new person.

“Erm, Mrs. Potts—I mean pepper! Can I go home now? I just remembered I have a paper for a class due tomorrow and I need to—” you started and she quickly shooed you off before you could even finish.

You didn’t know if your plan would work. You knew your plan was perfect, but didn’t know if I’d work. If this worked, you and the boys life would be on top of the world.

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

Hello, hello, here’s my piece for the Halloween minibang organized in courtesy of the Chicken Tendies and Bacon Bits DabiHawks server~ and have the link to a more sensible reading experience (as t gets rid of formatting, too, and I’m lazy to put it all back in, at least for now): ao3

I was paired up with pineapple hair boy (dunno his url still rip) and our promt was haunted maze! \o/ I kinda included the other two we were gunning for, devil deal and ghost stories, so... multitasking, yo. Also put in my suggested fog, because as time passed, I realized how good it was even though I just put something into the box lmao

I’ll link pineapple’s accompanying piece as soon as they’re done with it, right here, in this line!! AND HERE IT IS!!!  👀

(Some of you may note... that I was supposed to be the artist. Well, it’s a long story, and likely on me tbh; I spent p much the entire week working on my piece, but I also started writing this one, and suggested doubling down on content, but unfortunately timetables are evil, and pineapple got mobbed enough as to likely run out of time if he also wanted to finish writing, so, um... yeah. This is not to say that we won’t do our original project, though, so stay tuned for the bonus round, hopefully soon! \[T]/)

(... also, I may or may not be considering to make this a full story, so there’s that)

Keigo trips for what feels like the millionth time on this way through the undergrowth- by day, the manor labyrinth is fairly easy to navigate, the kids frequenting it has kept it threadable. Nobody has legitimately tended to it for years, though. Or rather a decade, actually, it’s been a while he was here. Honestly, who cares, because--- oh, for fuck’s sake, more rose or blackberry or whatever vines to untangle his legs from. Great. Just… great.

He squints at his watch; still on time. Catching his breath after getting free surprisingly fast this time around, he takes a look at his surroundings. Not that he sees much, bear you. It’s near midnight and pitch dark. To top it off, the thick-ass fog often present, source: right damn here, has also crept into town. In fact, this is the worst it has gotten this year yet. There’s also barely anything he can hear from the dying-off autumn festival two streets and half an estate over.

It’s only him, his phone's flashlight, and the camera around his neck that also keeps getting caught in shit. That, and his own breathing that's getting his lungs numb from all the cool, wet air they are being exposed to.

Fooling around for so long has made him feel… antsy. Just a bit. The fact that his goal, that is to say the family crypt of the moneybags who used to live here is so close doesn’t help, either.

The entire plot is the stuff of local legends. The mansion is-was infamous for its… flammability, so to speak. Every few years, at least one room got totalled. Some believed that the last master had been a pyromaniac, up till the umpteenth house fire snuffed his line, and himself at the age of 60-something, out for good. But old folk said that the building had been ablaze just as frequently before his time- and truth to be told, there had been two more fires ever since, although those could have been the aforementioned kids or the occasional squatter. Two fires in about ten years is pretty normal in an abandoned place like this.

A few of those old people said the mansion had been built on hallowed grounds in their parents’ time, and the fires were punishment for disturbing the church ruins and the dead it used to house. Even fewer said the church must have been built on the very gates of hell and the ruins had kept the flames at bay.

And old geezer Giran in particular said that you could see the devil himself on the night when spirits roam free, around where the isolated belfry’s foundation stands still with walls crumbling- the place around which the crypts were erected on top of upturned graves. To be frank, the dude himself looked as if he escaped from hell, so what better myths to bust as an aspiring photographer? And even if the devil won't drag his ass outside, this will still make one hella Halloween photoshoot. He has loads of candles and some lampions in a backpack to get the mood right as well.

If anything remotely threatening pops up, though, like a mean stray dog… or a horde of drunk homeless, he's so ready to run for the hills, you have no idea.

He’s pricking his ears good as he closes in on the center of the once-upon large cemetery. One has to acknowledge the effort those rich bastards put into this dumb maze layout just to hide their own dead. It’s as if they feared a zombie apocalypse and concluded that they wouldn’t be able to get out if the hedges grow in a pattern, like, seriously. Then again, if the ‘horde of drunk homeless’ situation comes true, it will feel and work just the same, so who’s he to judge.

The scenery, too, is something to behold still. The entire area is surprisingly… not very foggy. One can see just as far as there is anything relevant to see, nothing more, nothing less. The waning moon even came out to play for a bit, shedding some decent light on his surroundings.

What catches his attention is not the excellent lighting to make photos, though, but rather someone sitting on the ruins of the old belfry, right under where the plump planet is working her magic.

He checks the display of his watch again- two past midnight. He’s late. Well, bummer… maybe next time.

That… guy, though? He doesn't look like any devil he knows of, but rather a human figure. One he also doesn't know of, actually. Which is remotely more interesting than Satan himself, because… that’s a goth silhouette if he’s ever seen one, and he’s seen all in town. All three of them.

They are a chill bunch, so he figures he might as well go up to this one. May be an acquaintance of Tokoyami and company’s who was also told about this spooky deal.

"Hey. Have you seen the midnight devil, or did he not get the memo this year?" He lifts a hand over his eyes to let him have a clearer look.

Just the way the other looks over to him, even while slouching quite a bit, is in a manner that’s nothing bar… uh… majestic, should be the word? Sublime? Yeah. That's peak cinematography. He’s… a bit at a loss of words here, because? People have waxed lyrical about the positively blessed relationship between him and sunlight, but this guy?? Has legitimately the most beautiful pair of eyes ever, period???

Before he could get too entranced by the sight of the sky blue pins of the overshadowed figure sitting between a moonlit sky and milky deep sea of mist, he notices that said eyes skim over him. Slowly, creeping down, and then up. Um…

Did… did he just check him out?

A hardly concealed grin can be heard out of his voice as he speaks up. “Hey there, angel."

… that's a yes.

This… coming from someone with eyes and a voice like… that, is actually… hm.

Like, look… he’s been looking forward college to maybe…  find someone he genuinely clicks with. But he has been through this immediate infatuation thing a hundred times already… and knows from experience that falling for mere potential is a grave mistake. What even are the chances that he’ll be the one? Put the aesthetic boner away and think rationally, Keigo. You don’t even know his name.

However, if, and IF he plays his cards well and this is not a total asshole… he could get both a photoshoot and a phone number out of this endeavor, which sounds like an excellent deal.

“Straight to the point, eh?” he acknowledges with a grin that's almost genuine. “Witching hour stuff aside, I don’t think I’ve seen you around…? A friend of Tokoyami’s?”

The other hops off the wall as he’s talking, stirring up some fog. Keigo could swear to hear absolutely nothing upon him hitting the ground. Must be the grass, but still, confirmed for cat. Not having to deal with the moon’s flare, he can now also tell that he’s about as old as expected.

The young man pauses to think for just a second before walking up to him. Nonchalance and weariness mingle in his steps.

“No, but I think I do know who you’re talking about. The kid with the raven.”

“Oh? Yeah, that’s him. Just visiting, then?” So he’s somewhat familiar with the area. Huh… how in hell did he never notice someone so obvious? Maybe he should come out here more often.

Also, is it just him, or did it get really cold all of a sudden?

“Him and his friends spend a lot of time here, I know enough. And yeah, something like that.”

As he stops in front of Keigo, an odd sensation trickles down his spinal cord, raising every hair on his nape. He’s had this once or twice when watching a legitimately good horror movie or catching a glimpse of an especially beautiful scene, or at least something very similar. It’s just the cold and being out in the middle of nowhere with a handsome stranger this time (which is kind of a combination of both), but still.

… this is not the time to be thinking ‘but what if he’s a serial killer and you are stuck out here with him alone’, brain. Thanks.

“Family business, gotcha.”

He’s onto something, because a certainly troubled look flashes over the hot--- the goth’s face as he reaches up to his own nape to rub away at it. “... yeah. That.”

The train of thought is seemingly swept out of the way after short consideration and his attention returns to Keigo. His neutral staring face is actually a little unnerving, no lie. “What about you, coming out here? Didn't quite catch what you first said.” He eyes him in a way similar to when he was sitting up on the wall, as if measuring him up.

“Oh, I wanted to take some photos,” Keigo starts, lifting the camera and the first candle he can grab from the bag, swinging it playfully around a few times with a smile to mask the nerve building up inside. “I figured it would be a nice opportunity even if the hearsay tale of the ~devil~ coming out at midnight was total humbug. This place is very atmospheric.”

What he says rouses a chuckle from the other. “Oh, so I wasn't imagining things. Been a while since I last heard that one.”

For someone deadpan he really has a cute smile. We are on a schedule here, but please never stop?

Keigo presses the tip of the candle into his cheek in contemplation, trying to steer his thoughts back on topic. “You mean, that local legend thing? I heard about it fairly recently… from the most suspect old dude." He rolls back and forth on his heels, watching out for reactions; "Giran, if the name is telling. But asking other old folks made them ring a bell, too, so I guess I was just ignorant.”

The other raises an eyebrow in amusement as the fading smile pulls into a smirk. "Maybe you are, a little bit."

Oh, come on. "Nobody is born cool, wise, or a folklore expert, okay…?" He pouts.

"I could already tell you were born without a trace of those things, alright."

"..."

He just said that. Looking him dead in the eyes.

Wow.

Dude's lucky his smile is cute, because that was so uncalled for and he's way too proud of himself. Sheesh. Anyway…

"Said the one who wouldn’t know manners if they hit him in the face…” He sighs. "Before we go down the name calling path, though… I’m Keigo." This was getting a little awkward without throwing it in, although he doubts the cocky asshole deserves it.

“Touya. My pleasure.”

Keigo hums as he moves to rummage through his stuff for the lighter he definitely threw in the bag before setting off. That’s not a very common name, but… “I think I’ve heard of you before…? Beats me where, though.” He’s pretty sure the conversation happened years ago by the crypt here, though.

Everything he says seems to amuse the other to no end. “It’s probably for the best. You seem like the type to run for the hills.”

Keigo gives him the side eye; being right aside, the hell is that supposed to mean…? And he’s so smug about it, too. About everything, really.

And no, it really wasn’t a line even remotely connected to serial killers, shut up, brain.

“Cryptic, are we?” he sighs, lighting the candle with a flickering click at last. The gentle flame sheds some dim, fog-broken light onto Touya’s face, and Keigo hates himself for being charmed by what he sees once more. That pale skin looks too perfect to be true… should feel like silk under one’s touch. If he ever gets a proper close-up look, he swears he’ll get a heart attack.

Touya blinks once, resetting his expression to nearly a default. “It's the two of us in a haunted, abandoned graveyard, inside a fog ridden maze, on the night after the 31st of October. You are basically begging to wind up dead. Coming off as cryptic and creepy as possible right now is elementary, angel.”

He… he legitimately can’t argue with that. The guy's almost as good at this as the bird kid is. “... touché.”

Stunned for words, he places his candle where planned instead. It's so stupid, but makes… so much sense. Is this why they all are like… that?

As he moves on like that without a word, Touya seems to get weirded out himself. "... You okay there?"

"I just had… an epiphany." He says, putting the first lampion with pinpoint precision. This guy just accidentally revealed some kind of arcane goth knowledge too advanced for him to begin to understand and doesn't even know it.

Touya heaves a deep sigh. "... you obviously got the wrong one out of that, but congratulations nonetheless."

“Maybe? I have not the foggiest what you were trying to imply.” He’s not that thick, but the dude’s being ~cryptic~ or whatever, and he’s not in the mood to write an essay on what edgy goths mean by what they say.

“Ah… figure that's why it's so clear out here this year… all the mist from the glade must have relocated to your head.” concluding that, Touya’s eyebrows pull closer upon seeing whatever else the blonde pulls out from his backpack while shooting a glare in his direction. “… what are those for?”

Keigo considers not answering at all, but decides against it. Being the bigger person by default is such a chore sometimes, but… “There’s some decent moonlight to work with, but these umbrellas help me get the little extra I need right where I want it. See?” With that, he turns the flashlight on and blinds the other with the sudden brightness.

“Ow, seriously?! I haven’t seen daylight in decades, turn that shit off…!”

… but, he can multitask and still be an asshole while answering the question. And laugh at the reaction, then laugh some more the decades comment as the other rubs his eyes, because he positively has the looks of a display-tanned indoor hermit. A hermit who is having a bad time.

“Wanna help, or would you rather brood somewhere the umbrellas won’t be able to reach you?”

A mechanical click can be heard in the distance; now that there’s no music playing in the streets, the bad (and always slightly ahead of time) clocktower bell can be heard signalling quarter past midnight. This seems to catch Touya’s attention and remind him of something as he stares into a nondescript spot for a while. At the very least, Keigo is certain he’s not thinking about the question that slipped out and which he will regret- if he says no, it’s gonna be the disappointment… if yes, then it’s because of all the things that will definitely go wrong.

“... well, it’s not as if I had no time to kill,” comes the apathetic answer a few seconds later, although the wrinkling eyebrows are telling of his misgivings regarding the idea.

“...”

Now, hold on… hold on, he may have an even worse idea that he’s definitely going to regret…

Keigo taps his pointing fingers against the camera anxiously. “Actually… say, what would it take for youuu… to be my model tonight?” He takes out his best puppy eyes as he looks over to him with the tiniest smile, blinking slowly.

It’s as if Touya had another light induced migraine immediately. He looks almost disgusted, which… is hilarious. “For that I'll take both your life savings and your soul.”

Keigo stifles both a giggle and a sigh at that, resulting in somewhat of a snort. He must be put off by those umbrellas quite a bit. "Really…? If that’s all, fine by me."

The answer brings back Touya to a much more reserved, if not vaguely sceptical stance. “You… sure are ready to jump the gun for that, huh.”

"Well I, too, am asking a bit much of you out of nowhere, aren’t I?” He asks, shrugging. “I figured it was worth asking, at the very least… you fit the mood a little too perfectly, one doesn’t get an opportunity like this every day. If all it takes is my birdie bank, that’s fine by me. … We can also talk about the soul part later if you want to.” It takes him every ounce of self restraint not to throw in a wink at the end.

“...” Touya stares in contemplation before taking a deep sigh and scratching his head. "Fine. I guess it’s going to be much less bothersome than posing for hours to have a portrait painted."

Keigo’s ears perk up at that. Like, a lot. "Y---you… there's a portrait?!"

Whaaa?!? A professional-ass painting, of him?? And, even more importantly, where?!?

"... I know what you're thinking of, and no, I have not the slightest idea. Who knows, maybe it even burned along with---" he cuts himself off right there. For the first time that night, he seems upset, or rather angry; whichever it may be is the strongest emotion the blonde has seen him display in these past minutes, affecting even him quite a bit. His hairs stand alert once more--- but the sentiment goes as it came, along with Touya’s stifled ire.

"... never mind. Let’s just… get on with this."

"..." He figures that being nosy would be straight-down rude, having just met and already asking for quite a bit… so he lets it slide as if nothing happened.

Keigo turns around to the lampion that he placed before the convo started.

Huh… that’s weird.

He doesn’t remember lighting it.

Overall, Touya seems to pay quite a bit of attention to what he's doing, visibly taking mental notes of the processes he goes through. First, it's a little embarrassing to be watched so closely, but eventually Keigo gets used to it and just does his thing. He soon finds himself in the zone, in fact. Hell knows how much time goes by as he keeps clicking away, barely even instructing, but rather just basking in whatever the other does, giving the okay to everything. He’s not even bothered by the bone cutting cold that’s now heightened by a breeze, because Touya seems to be a natural, and by god, does his presence do things to him. He’s had phases of architecture, mixed media with cutouts and shadow play, birds, and abandoned places, but this… this must be what finding a muse feels like.

When he's looking for the misplaced lighter for the hundredth time again, it's already shoved into his face.

"You should just keep this in your pocket, angel."

"Ah, thanks." He takes it, then turns to Touya sheepishly while pulling his jacket tighter as the light wind blows especially cold air down his collar. "I've been… stupidly quiet for a while. It must be really awkward, uh… am I really not bothering you?"

"It's fine. I like having the company."

Maybe his voice is softer than before… or maybe he’s just imagining things.

“I, uh--- same.” Keigo feels blood creeping to his face, so he quickly moves on; “I have enough of these candles left for like about one more location. Any ideas?”

It takes Touya only a second of consideration before he nods towards the belfry ruins.

He flashes a smile; “Gotcha.”

In barely 10 more minutes, Keigo is speeding through the hundreds (whoops?) of photos he’s taken, walking circles around the ruin. His breath hitches over the one where Touya looked directly into the camera right by the wall. He’s gonna frameit and putitonhiswardrobedoor andmmmakeit his ppphone wallpaper---

He can hear a chuckle behind him, and remembers that whoopsie daisy, he’s not alone. “You're pleased as punch over a few pictures… It’s adorable.”

Keigo gets red to the eartips this time around, realizing that he’s got that goofy-ass smile Rumi keeps teasing him for. Unfortunately for him, once it gets pointed out… it always sticks. “I’tsjustthat---…!! I… didn’t think I’d get such nice photos at all? Moody scenery is nice and easier to sell, but I prefer lived-in spaces and models, anything that feels alive. Especially when they’re so pret...ty. Patient.”

Someone kill him.

“...”

The thin eyebrows twitch the smallest amount and for a torturous, silent pause Keigo wishes for some kind of deity to strike him down and grant a merciful, immediate death.

“I suppose I’ve had a few years to put some patience practice under the belt.”

He fights the urge to run away crying. There’s no way anybody exists who wouldn’t see right through that… at least he gets to see that cute smile once more.

He forces one on, too. “... I can tell.”

The wind starts picking up, distracting the other. Touya takes a look up to the moon, which has made quite some progress on its route since they’ve been there. Then there’s three clicks echoing through the night, signalling that it’s nearing 1 a.m. “Well… you were babbling about showing me, too, so you better hurry. I don’t have much time left.”

Keigo snaps out of the shameful frustration only to be legitimately ashamed. “Oh… sorry, I… hadn’t even considered that you had other business tonight.” Shit. He just assumed he had all night, but Touya was just humoring him until he had other business.

The other shakes his head. “It’s no issue, just get your fidgety ass over here already.”

As he makes his way over to him, Keigo feels something grab onto his leg and the familiar itch of thorns scratching up skin through his jeans.

Fucking vines again.

He should have expected this, shouldn't he. As he stumbles forward, he sighs in immediate acceptance.

He would have never expected being caught, though.

Nor Touya’s hands being as cold as a frozen piece of meat that can be felt even through his jumper and jacket. His touch sends shivers down his spine, freezing him in surprise first; if the strap didn’t get caught around his arm, the camera would hit the ground as his hand loses its hold on it.

What he’s definitely not ready for, however, is the arctic chill radiating from every inch of Touya’s, the same icy presence that he’s been feeling ever since… since he got close.

The thing that makes him break into cold sweat and brings even the blood in his veins to a halt, however, is the pair of forget-me-nots staring into his soul from mere inches.

Those beautiful, blue eyes, that… that are glassy and clouded and definitely not… human.

His lips part, but the scream dies off in his throat.

The realization flashing in his eyes draws a lenient, gentle smile onto the pale face. “You’re slow, angel.”

Keigo's paralyzed in what he can only guess is sheer terror, his body's last resort in hopes that the threat will just leave if it's not interesting enough to investigate. His mind, however, is racing and panicked as his inevitable end leans in for the kill.

Fuck.

Fuck, he's… dead.

He's dead, he's dead, he's dead---

He’s dead.

At least, that’s what he remembers thinking before passing the fuck out… not knowing who exactly he was referring to anymore. Because he feels positively not alive when waking up on the belfry’s cold ground, on the patch of concrete that lay behind where the catafalque used to be, surrounded by what remained of the candles and lampions he had brought along, and some of the flowers that people decorate graves with.

The spot where everyone suspected a former hidden path… or another grave.

He turns around, because now he remembers where he last saw the name Touya- it’s barely legible, but there it is, crudely chiselled into the stone right above the grey ground.

At first he supposes that the cold, empty feeling that seeps through his entire being must be the nasty cold and pneumonia he gets after the deed. As the days go by, however… the shivers and cold sensation persist and his dreams are plagued by endless mazes, fires, and haunting, blue eyes all the time.

His second guess for the cause of it is lingering fear: on the camera, he finds creepy photos of himself lying in the grave once he gets better. When going through them all, he considers to delete the ones he took of the other or use them for digging, (there’s no fucking way he actually hung out with a ghost, is there?) but… they all pop up as vaguely distorted landscapes, with light spots where a pair of eyes may or may not be.

Having stared blankly for like an hour at the one he really liked back then, he throws the camera into the corner of his armchair and doesn’t touch it for weeks.

This carries on through winter, in spring, and he's convinced of how badly he fucked up when even in the suffocating summer heat he feels the veil of an icy embrace.

Once leaves start catching rust again, the chill makes his bones ache, much like they did after the encounter. And it only gets stronger by the day. He hasn't shown the pictures, developed or otherwise, to anyone. Somewhere down the line he figured… that he should just give him the photos and trade them back for his soul, because hell if that dementor did not help himself to it right along with the kiss he definitely got but doesn’t remember. Trauma alone cannot possibly cause this.

It's midnight again. This time, he's already there, waiting for the toll of the distant church bell they had fixed and reset sometime in spring. The autumn fog is as thick as ever.

His grip tightens on the envelope; deals like this are notoriously hard to break or undo. Hell, the guy agreed to have the photos taken, creating a nice little loophole. Whether he printed them, deleted them all or whatever might be a moot point.

… no. No, he can't start thinking about this right now, if he comes he'll get this thing annulled, get his damn soul back---

As the last gong dies off in the night, a pair of lean arms slink around his aching chest and pull him against a body so cold it's scalding his skin.

"Hello again, angel," greets the voice, sounding a hundred times sweeter than he remembers.

…

Or maybe… he'll just let him keep it forever.

[rewordthis]

White Tiled Sorrows

the us from this moment –

1676 words SouHaru SFW

Prologue:

"If there ever was anything that could throw him off, that was probably fate — he vaguely recalls Rin to have argued about that — or maybe, just his luck."

< | [X] | >

[Part A]

… Faded-white, cement bricks on the pavement covering each plane of the road side. Trees, willowy and tall, unlike the ones on his region. A playground a few meters ahead…

"Shit—" he cursed lowly. He's gotten lost— again.

Trying to understand when exactly he had messed up his route, he mindlessly made a beeline towards the small recreational area. The place was nice. If he had to get lost in the city this was a nice area to do so; the sun was stealing in on his face through the trees, a sweet warmth hitting his cheek, down where he sat on one open swing.

It was still a bit chilly outside, considering that it was just a couple days into March. Graduation day was merely a month away, and he had to consider a gift for Gou and go wish to Ai.

'Ai…' thinking back to it, his final year as a high school student was one very fond memory for him. He had simply hoped to see Rin again, but ended up finding a family. Ai, Momo, Uozumi, all of them— they had all accepted him as one of their own. They respected him. Not because of his status as elder, but because they considered him valuable. Him — Sousuke. They didn't try to dissuade him or look down on him when they had him found out. Quite the contrary, they took him in, they enveloped him with gentleness and comfort and made him their unrivaled, unyielding hero. They gave him their strength. And filled him with new hope.

He owed them so much. So— so much.

A brazen cheering pierced through in the background, effectively bursting his bubbling thoughts.

He turned to the side to eye a cluster of children, flowing out from a place somewhere behind him.

His mind was clear. Lucid as for the very first time after eons. No troubles. No pretense. He suddenly felt a tug at his lips. He was smiling, wasn't he?

If Sousuke could see himself at that moment, he would swore he didn't know this person.

Soft eyes— shining, tender expression, an almost smile. Something familiar and fond and very nostalgic pulling at his heart. It felt horribly out of character for something this sappy to bloom out of him. Made him feel so out of place. So empty…

<<Growl>>

'hungry?'

Without much thought to it, Sousuke got up from his swing that clang noisily from the quick flurry of his movements, and headed in the opposite direction from where the echoes of cheering still reached him. He didn't ventured too far from where he had been, and he found himself standing in front of a communal pool.

There were some kids that had yet to leave the premises, blabbing energized about this and that.

He didn't plan to, in fact he had wanted to turn around and leave once his curiosity was sated, but his feet carried him all the way to the entrance.

He found himself taking a quick glance of the time table attached to one of the door leaves, as he pushed behind the other.

[ Friday: 13:00 - 14:30 elementary students practice

           14:30 - 20:00 public hour ]

He didn't even checked his watch as he noted that -something- had held those kids back for at least half an hour after their class. It was, currently,  15:15. He knows this much because he saw the time when he exited the station at 14:30 sharp and then again at 14:45 when he sighed for the umpteenth time that evening as he had lost his way.

He trod in along the entrance hall, taking in the poster-covered walls; practice notices, open invitations to past events, warnings and rules for the public and swimmers, a plaque of the buildings’ name, the founding day and the donor that had obviously put his money in the project. It was a small golden plate with neat kanji, that Sousuke couldn't find it in him to actually bother to look at. He just moved ahead.

Pushing open the double steel doors, each with a stained glass the shape of a hemisphere and a long cylindrical handle attached from top to bottom, he had felt at ease. Now, driving through another pair of doors; wooden this time and much lighter, rectangular semi-transparent panes on each panel giving little to none of what was going on behind them, he found himself buzzing with excitement. He couldn't remember when was the last time he'd felt this way. It seemed so bizarre to have all this energy all of a sudden, 'cause — wasn't he hungry?!

Upon entering he was greeted with all too many people, ranking on all ages. Young men and women enjoying the water or moving around in a relaxed manner, the elderly sitting along the benches that lined the walls, 3-year-olds that were taking their first swimming lessons from their proud parents in the kiddy pool and some slightly older ones too. And on the far end towards — what Sousuke assumed — the locker rooms, were a deep pool not quite the size of an Olympic one but big all the same, that bustled busily with chattering and splashing. A ring of spectators was circling the pool, children cheering excitedly and younger people staring amazed from the sidelines.

Sousuke stood. In the middle of the slippery tiled floor, that looked like an artificial divide between the two clashing energies in this confined space, he stood. He examined the cheering bunch, detecting the fine sound of rhythmical sloshing through water.

Someone was swimming there — a kid maybe?

(But not quite.)

He doesn't really have the time to act of his own as a kid sprints past him — and he follows it with his eyes to where it meets with a middle-aged woman, his mother, he notes — and now is quickly running in his direction again, only, the kid is loosing his footing for a moment and Sousuke reaches out one big hand and grabs him. He looks surprised — if not stunned — as if he hadn't noticed the bulk that Sousuke's sheer size was forming in the space between.

Sousuke looks genuinely surprised himself. He actually managed to catch the kid in time. He didn't think he would…

"Kid…" he started and he felt the boy flinch in his grip. Ah— he's probably intimidating, isn't he; standing almost 10 heads above, he ought to be. So he swallows and drops his tone a notch. He tries again: "kid, it's dangerous to run in the pool—"

As he releases his hold on the boy's arm he notices the distinct forming of fingerprints around the soft flesh. He bites his lip. 'Damn—'

He's got no time to apologize properly before the kid beams up a smile at him and grab a hold of his wrist.

"It's ok! It doesn't hurt. At least I didn't fell, so thank you! Also, I'm sorry for running in the pool…” He says as he drags Sousuke along, to the big pool.

"Both my old coach and my new coach tell me not to run on the wet floor—", he makes a face —indignant?— "… mom, too." He finishes as he steals a glance back to where the woman was moments earlier…

'So that's how it is.' Sousuke notes with a nod of his head. And maybe he's smiling, because the kid is training a curious eye on him now.

This boy reminds him of himself when he was little. Black, short, spiky hair and piercing gaze. But the way he's easy with a guy like Sousuke, brings forth memories of his best friend as well.

"Say, oni-chan, do you swim?"

"Ah, yeah…?" 'How— no shit, idiot! Of course the kid would ask you that. You're in a pool for fucks sake… DUH!'

And the kid appears perplexed for a brief second before he says: "No, I mean— like professionally! You know…"

And Sousuke's brain barely registers the following words as he comes into view of what the formless barrier of moving bodies reveal before his disbelieving eyes…

"… like Haru is!"

And there is positively one Haruka Nanase, gleefully drifting over and under the water with lazy movements, much like a dolphin playing freely — not in a closed off tank, but rather — out in the vastness of the ocean. Happy. Content.

And he hears, as if from somewhere far away on his right…

"Haru swims professionally, but he swims only free!"

And there is a tear at his arm — one that hopefully didn't rip open his stitches (and, could the stitches get ripped when they are already removed by his doctor? Or what?) — and he's inches away from the edge of the pool and the kid next to him is frantically waving a hand at Haru; like a cat trying to catch its masters’ attention and show him the mouse it managed to caught. Like a gift in a show of affection or something.

The kid calls at Haru.

"Haru, this oni-chan over here is swimming too! He's really nice and I think you can become good friends!"

And Nana— Haru, is stilling in his spot, shaking the excess water from his face. His eyes drift to the kid where they trace his hand back over to Sousuke's blank face.

Sousuke can tell he's surprised as well from the imperceptible rounding of his rims in awe, sharp gaze growing lightly wondering.

"Am sure you'll like him!" The kid says as he finally releases Sousuke to dive into the pool, moving close to Haru.

The man is still looking at the stone effigy that is Sousuke. Sousuke finds his lingering gaze growing even more unbearable as he lowers himself in the water, the majority of his features hidden in the shimmering liquid, his eyes alone striking with a strange glow.

And surely enough, Sousuke can hear a familiar voice from half across the earth, laughing in mirth at him and his misery… ‘just shut up, Rin!’

Because…

'Shit—' (now he wants to swim?)

…

[End of Part A]

••••••••••••••••

A.N.: please do take the world and background/buildings descriptions with a grain of salt, as I've taken some liberties in this story.

< | [X] | >

[babieflorenzi]

They're back from the road trip and since they couldnt exactly do much *physically* for the last few weeks, when they get home they're tired and horny. Matteo falls asleep straight away while david showers (cause hes not a literal goblin) and david walks in on matteo having a certain type of dream: please continue

i wrote this and it ended up being 1.4k so i hope thats okay!! enjoy <3

David swears he was only in the shower for fifteen minutes but when he comes back Matteo is dead to the world. He rolls his eyes at his boyfriend before going over to the closet and trying to dig through it for a jumper. He only gets through one pile of closed before he hears something behind him and freezes. He knows how tired Matteo’s been so he freezes to see if it was him waking up or not. He hears it again, this time more distinct. A rustling sound then a high whine that David recognises almost immediately. He turns around to see Matteo laying with his leg thrown over the rolled up doona. David watches him for a second before he sees him moving his hips slightly, rolling them against the doona. 

He watches Matteo for a few seconds, watches while he moans into the pillow and his hands grip the blanket. It takes him a second to realise Matteo’s still asleep, that he’s not doing this consciously. Matteo gasps and murmurs into his pillow “David, shit.” David feels heat flash through his body hearing his name, Matteo’s not only having a dirty dream, but a dirty dream about him and wow. That’s hot. David moves over to sit on the bed, he’s going to wake Matteo up because really it’s been two weeks since they’ve last been able to do anything due to annoying complications on their trip and the fact that sex in a tent hardly works for either of them and David’s not gonna miss the opportunity to do anything. 

David puts a hand on Matteo’s side knowing that just talking to him won’t wake him. “Matteo? Baby?” He says. Matteo doesn’t wake to that so David shakes him gently, “ Matteo, wake up.” Matteo wakes up suddenly, head snapping up and eyes wide. He looks like he’s been caught doing something illegal. “Oh my god.” Matteo groans, throwing himself back on the bed. He shuffles so he’s laying on his back looking up at David “Why’d you wake me up, I was having the best dream.” “I thought maybe if you woke up we could continue whatever it was together?” David tilts his head after asking. “Oh we can, can we?” Matteo teases, reaching up and wrapping his arms around David’s neck to pull him down to kiss him. 

David’s quick to turn the kiss dirty. He licks into Matteo’s mouth and straddles his thighs. Matteo moves his hands down from David’s neck to drag down his body to grab onto his thighs. Matteo is obsessed with David’s thighs, always having his hands on them when he can. David pulls back from the kiss to talk, “What were we doing in your dream?” he whispers. “How do you know you were in it?” Matteo grins like he knows he’s being a little shit.  “Because you were saying my name ‘Oh David! You’re such a sex god David! The only and best man for me!’” David laughs. “Shut up I did not.” Matteo shoves him lightly. 

“No but seriously, what were you dreaming about?” David asks again. “Just us, I think you sat on my face and then I got to get inside you after two fucking weeks. Really it’s all I’ve been thinking about since we started heading home.” Matteo says softly. David knows he’s not embarrassed but they’re still working on the talking about sex and things like that so he’s a little shy about it. David gets it. “Hmm? You want that? Tell me what you need baby.” he asks. “Want to taste you. Then we can see where we’re at?” Matteo asks. David just nods and sits back up to take his shirt off. Matteo’s eyes drift down his body and he gives an appreciative hum, “Wow you look good.” 

David gets his binder off then reaches for the bottom of Matteo’s shirt. “It’s only fair.” he says before pulling it up. David leans down to kiss around Matteo’s chest, licking over his nipples because he’s recently learnt that they’re pretty sensitive. Matteo’s hands move to push down the back of David’s pants. David kisses him again while Matteo starts pushing his pants off along with his underwear. “Come up here.” Matteo says once he’s got them down to his knees. David kicks his pants the rest of the way off before moving over Matteo again. He sits on his chest looking down at him for a few seconds, “You good?” he asks. “Yeah come here.” Matteo squeezes his thighs. “Remember how to tell me to stop?” David asks, Matteo nods and tries to pull him up. “Show me.” David says. “Ugh fine.” Matteo squeezes his calf twice, the signal they’ve established for when one of them can’t talk but needs a break. 

David smiles at him before nodding then moving up to Matteo’s waiting mouth. Matteo runs his tongue in lazy circles while David rolls his hips back against it. David loves being like this, he can move around to where he needs to feel things the most. He knows that Matteo likes having him on top of him like that, that he likes David having all the control. David keeps going for a few minutes, letting himself get lost in the sensation. He gets close, he knows he can come like this but part of him doesn’t want to. Wants to wait until he’s got something inside him. “Matteo, fuck. Matteo I’m-” David grips his hair tight, squeezing his eyes shut when it starts to feel really good, “Matteo I need to stop. Don’t wanna come yet.” Matteo squeezes his thighs to double check that’s what he wants. David nods and starts pulling back and away. 

David moves back down to where he’s able to kiss Matteo. He briefly thinks that he should find it gross that he’s okay with kissing him after he’s gone down on him. David pulls back to talk, “Can I take your pants off now?” Matteo nods quickly, hands going to start pushing them down himself. David laughs at his eagerness before pushing his hands away and doing it himself. David looks down to help himself get Matteo’s pants off easier. “Oh no undies? Cheeky.” He teases. “Never hurts to be prepared.” Matteo shrugs, grinning. David just shakes his head, throwing Matteo’s pants on the floor and moving back over him. He gets a hand on Matteo before he’s shaking his head and stopping him, “No. If you do that I’m gonna come before I get in you.” David laughs again letting go, “Best we get to that then.” 

David gets up and grabs a condom out of their unpacked bag. They’d definitely overpacked them being oblivious to how little sex they’d be able to have on their roadtrip. He gets it open and on Matteo in record time. “Do you think we need extra lube?” Matteo asks. “Yeah probably.” David groans getting up out of bed to grab it off Matteo’s desk. He’s quick in getting it on him and then moving back over to sink down. After two weeks without, being full feels so good. He just wants more and more, barely giving either of them time to get adjusted before rocking his hips. David’s hot his hands flat on Matteo’s chest to steady himself while he’s riding for his life. “Holy shit this is good.” He says after a few minutes. Matteo just gives a high whine back. 

Matteo grips onto David’s hips hard, letting him do whatever he needs right now. David finds the best angle for himself and works it hard. He gets close fast again and can see in Matteo’s face that he’s close too. David’s orgasm hits him hard and out of the blue almost. His whole body shakes and he falls forward to be resting his head in Matteo’s neck. “Shit, so good Teo.” David says, keeping his hips moving to both get himself through it and hopefully get Matteo off too. David sit back up and get Matteo the rest of the way. It only takes a few more seconds of continuous movements for Matteo to be arching his back and moaning loud. He shivers when he’s done, arms moving up to pull David down to him. David goes willingly, wanting to be close to him. 

David moves away to get off Matteo’s dick, shivering when it gets out of him. He lays down half on top of Matteo and just stays there for a few minutes. “That was good.” Matteo says once he’s caught his breath again. “Hmm? Just good?” David asks, teasing lightly. “I don’t know. Can’t think that much yet.” “Oh is that right?” “Uh huh.” 

[ofchasse]

Jailbreak // Chatzy Log

Them rescuing supernaturals, including Shilo and James. Too lazy to properly edit.

Erica

Erica just considered themselves lucky that none of the guards likely had supernatural senses -- that they were all human -- or else the small group of them gathered in the woods close enough to see the spotlights would've meant the end of the line very quickly. She's looking to Stiles' brother -- Stuart ( she still wasn't used to seeing Stiles' features on a much more stoic face ) -- who was hovering over a small tablet in his hand, the glow of it illuminating his features. "What's the plan, bossman?" she's asking him in a whisper with the hint of a smirk -- Stuart looking to her with a fleeting look of what seemed to be confusion and bemusement before back to his tablet, "What? You're the one with the brain full of computer shit -- your ballgame, right?"

She's looking to the doorway, flickering her gaze over it before back to the others where Marco was lingering in the back -- closest to Blake -- with his eyes seemingly glued without moving to the building.

Stuart

Stuart huffs out a low breath at the blonde, a finger sliding over the screen, "Sinon sent me blueprints of the complex," he's murmuring, "We can't just rush in there without a clue of where we are going. We're getting all of them out, if we can help it, and it won't do anyone any good to just start mass chaos. We need a plan of action -- I'm looking for the control room; Allison and I --" he looks to the huntress before back to his tablet, "Will go there. Shut down the alarms, and spring the cells. Blake and Marco will find Marco's sister -- on record, she seems to be the only banshee in this facility; and -- according to Lydia and Tabitha -- she's more likely than not going to be out of it --" Which was a nicer way to say half catatonic. With the collar preventing her from screaming, the voices likely caused her to shut herself out in defense. "So Marco and Blake will carry her out if needed; and look for .. James, right?" he looks to Blake then before back down to the tablet, flipping through names, "Shifters are on another hallway -- Shilo seems to be on the laboratory hallway, which has less security --" Stuart knew this by experience, but he seemed to be outwardly coping well with the reminders.

"And then Erica will play sheepdog ; the supernaturals in that building, once out, will be confused and panicked. They need guidance to get out of the building and to Satomi and her group."

Allison

If she hadn't already been in 'ready to go' mode, then Allison would have laughed at the way that Stuart seemed both annoyed and perplexed with being put in charge. Erica was right, though - he was the one with the plan that they needed to get in there and get out safely. Hopefully. She's focused on the door and the area around them, gun held in her hand like a vice that she couldn't give up. She'd considered her bow for the silence it provided, but an arrow wouldn't win in a gun-fight.

When he speaks about the building, she looks to him, eyes tracing his features for signs of distress. It hadn't been that long ago that they'd been breaking him out of here - not even long enough for both of their wounds to fully heal. He seems okay for now, but Allison feared that he might break down at some point.

Blake

It's good for Blake that they decided to stick her and Marco on Shilo duty together - she wasn't sure that she could get in there and out alive if she didn't have someone to keep her feet under her. If she wasn't able to find James - or worse, found him in less than the state she wanted to find him in - she wasn't sure she could recover from that. But it wasn't just James that she was there for. She had others to take care of, and it included Marco and Shilo. They both needed to be safe before she could lose it, if they didn't find James.

Her posture shifted, stiffened, as Stuart spoke. She nodded just slightly when he looked to her, confirming that he had James' name right. Stress seemed to radiate from her body, heart already racing despite the fact that they hadn't quite gone into the eye of the storm yet.

Marco: Marco felt strangely on the outside of it all ; he was here for Shilo, it was merely just luck that there happened to be so many supernaturals inside. Yes, of course he wanted to help them all get free -- he felt selfish in the matter, however, that his first priority was Shilo. And then everyone else. Albeit, he kept that to himself. Outwardly, he was sure the ones with heightened senses could smell his anxiety ; his fear. Marco had only shifted once, and it was when he had had his collar removed by Lydia ; Satomi and Deaton in the room for safety, and the older Alpha had had to calm the man down -- bring him down from his shift. He didn't quite yet know what he was capable of, and the senses outside of the enclosed underground was nearly overwhelming -- darkened gaze on the main doors where one man stood armed. I think that I know him -- he mused bitterly to himself, before he was saying as much aloud, "I know .. the man. The one who is standing guard,"  he's whispering under his breath, Erica and Stuart's focus now on him, "I had served with him overseas. He was in my troop, for a time --..." Marco is frowning and Stuart is lowering his tablet just a little.

The alpha shakes his head, "I will take care of him - one way or another. I will go up - alone - and talk to him. See if I can get him to stand down. And if I cannot...-" He trailed off and gave a meek shrug of one shoulder. "He will not stand in the way of all of the innocent supernaturals inside. When he is down, we need in quickly."

Erica

Part of her - as her gaze catches the weapon in Allison's hand - wanted to comment on it. Wanted to comment on the lines that used to be drawn between them and the chasm that had been built between werewolf and huntress while they were in high school. However, Erica was not the teenager she had been when her live had been robbed of her. What she went through with the Dread Doctors, and her life she lead in Nevada with The Phoenix Tail rebellion, Erica had changed. Allison was not her enemy, and she knew this, and she would not cling to petty grudges that were more than half a decade old. So, she purses her lips and cuts her gaze away from Allison to Marco as he speaks before looking to the man in question ; eyes illuminating a soft gold color before it flushed itself out.

"Which way am I going, geek monkey?" she asks Stuart, eyes still on the man as if she was making sure they were not heard.

Stuart

Stuart watches Marco for a long moment ; it wasn't that he did not trust the alpha -- he did, everything matched up -- it was that human emotions were messy, and Marco looked troubled. Albeit, family bond -- blood or not -- was a powerful thing, sometimes more powerful even than the supernatural, so he let it go; deciding to trust that Marco would do what he needed to do when faced with someone who stood in the way of his sister. His lips noticeably thin in the light of his tablet before he's looking down at it ; he seems to be, for the moment, avoiding Allison's gaze as Allison was likely the only one who knew how effected he might be -- and, in that moment, he truly just needed to focus.

"Second floor, Erica, is where the shifters are kept. Lead them out the back entrance once Allison and I spring them, then double back to the third floor -- there are a few vampires and two witches there." The blonde merely nods in response.

"Marco and Blake - the lab is on the first floor, two rights in the hallway. James is on the floor with the shifters, right above your head -- " he taps a small radio at his hip before gesturing to one Erica held, "Erica, if you see James, contact Marco and Blake and try and send him downstairs to them. We all have to go under the assumption that all of these supernatural are handicap. But, even without their abilities, they greatly out number the guards and scientists inside as long as they are out of their cells -- if a fight does break out."

Allison

Allison wasn't entirely certain how she felt about Marco yet - the alpha was so new to his abilities that she wasn't sure she would trust him to go in but they hadn't much other choice. It was because of him looking for his sister that they'd found all the other supernaturals in there - that they had a chance of getting them out and to safety. Still -that didn't mean that she trusted him to keep his cool. Though she wanted to speak up when he said he would take care of the one at the door, she remained silent. He had been in the military, maybe he had it in him.

She continues to remain silent as Stuart avoids her gaze, listening as he doles out instructions in a way that proved that he was the right one to look to for direction in this. Anxious to get going, Allison checks her gun one last time before her gaze is back on Stuart - waiting.

Blake

Blake almost wanted to protest when Marco spoke - but not for the same reason that anyone else might. She wasn't sure she could watch him kill someone, having to see that last bit of her childhood spill blood in a true confirmation of how damaged her life had become. Ultimately, it wasn't her place to speak against his wishes, and she remained begrudgingly silent, eyes moving to him as though to confirm whether or not he truly was okay with what he was offering to do. He'd not just be killing anyone in his way, he'd be killing a friend - because she was not naive enough to believe that the man would stand aside for them.

Stuart pulled her gaze from Marco, gaze going to him and then to Erica. "Tall, blonde. Basically the male version of me." She told Erica, to confirm that the other knew what she was looking for - but it wouldn't have to be hard. Werefoxes were few and far between, and they smelled different to wolves. It killed her that she couldn't go look for him herself, but she knew that Marco needed her help.

Marco

Marco falls quiet for the moment -- to let the others weigh in on what he said -- but when no one seemed to outwardly depute him, he made the decision that he would do what needed to be done -- regardless of the fact that this man ( Richard Falls, Staff Sergeant ) had been his friend at the time. He lets everyone else finish up speaking, handing his own radio to Blake for the moment -- as each group had just one -- before standing to his feet once everything was settled.

He knew that there were enough shifters -- Erica and Blake -- with them for them to eavesdrop just in case something did happen. In case he did lose control ; or in case Richard was not the only one up there. Erica seems to be giving him a cautious glance as he was taking the long way ( notably to Stuart, which meant he seemed to be trying to not give away their position ) before approaching the man -- palms up to show he was unarmed. ( Not that it truly mattered, with what he was, but Richard likely didn't know this yet. )

Erica

Erica laughs slightly -- but, unlike in her teenage days, it didn't seem to be thick with malice; hands grasping at her hair to tie it up on the top of her head to get it out of the way. "I can smell your scent stronger than anyone else's here, honey. I'll find James -- trust me." Despite her words, the chimera does seem to give Blake what she hopes to be a reassuring smile. "We will get Shilo. And James. And everyone else out of there safely."

She then falls quiet when Marco stands -- eyes following him carefully; molten gold once more overtaking her features as she creeped a little closer, but still outside of the man's range of sight; clearly now focusing all of her senses on Marco and the man.

Stuart: Stuart waited to make sure that everyone was on the same page before he was watching the alpha stand and make his way to the door -- tucking the tablet safely away; which he would also later use to try and rip whatever data he could out of the control room inside. He took is standing straighter, adjusting his radio and keeping himself a few paces behind the blonde ; eyes on the door and the alpha as he feels a warm heat of his magic drumming under the surface of his skin.

Guard: Everyday was usually the same - quiet and long. But today was different. The second he heard the other approaching, Richard was on alert - eyes finding someone that belonged much too far in his past rather than in front of him with his palms upturned. "Russo?" He questioned, gripping his gun because you could never trust anyone in this world - not anymore. Not when his very neighbour had killed his wife and kids.

Marco: Marco stopped a good few feet away from him -- and, for the moment, he kept himself completely human. He didn't want to push him if he didn't have to. He slowly lowers his hands, even with the barrel of the gun still on him. "Falls -" he breaths, ducking his head in acknowledgement before taking just a single step closer. "You know why I'm here -- don't you? You know she's in there."

Guard: "Yeah, I know." His expression is hard, unwelcoming to Marco. "I can't let you go get her." She was a danger to the world - maybe he was too.

Marco: Marco huffs out an uneasy, sadden laugh as he shakes his head, "I am not asking permission, Richard," he starts slowly with a small roll of his shoulders. "Don't make this difficult."

Marco: * saddened

Guard: "You're one of them too, aren't you?" Richard asks, finger going to the trigger of his gun as he took a step back - back hitting the door as he did so. "Don't make me shoot you Russo - I don't want to but I will."

Marco: His eyes flicker down for a moment to Richard's trigger finger before flickering back to his features ; merely taking a few more slow steps closer to him. "And I don't want to hurt you - but I will," he told him instead of answering the question. "If you stand between me and my sister, then I will."

Guard: "Russo - I mean it. Stand down - you're sister isn't getting out of here. Even if you get past me there are a hundred more guards in there!"

Marco: He let out a humorless chuckle, his eyes dropping down for a moment as his jaw tightened. "- I was injured, you know. Paralyzed. And because of that, the government cast me aside, despite everything that I did for them ; despite them being the reason I was like that in the first place. And when I was attacked -- they just collared me like they would anybody else. They never even gave me the chance to process what happened to me; or even let me heal. I was still barely walking by the time that I was collared." He raises his eyes back up to Richard at this point, chocolate hues simmering a bright crimson before fading for the moment. "I will get my sister, one way or another -- don't make this difficult. You were my friend -- you going to let some bullshit they have shoved down your throat change that?"

Guard: Richard clenched his jaw - he had known what had happened to Marco. They had talked about him when his sister showed up, had laughed at him. He hadn't heard that he'd been bitten, but it was obvious now that he had. If his walking weren't clue enough, his devil's eyes were confirmation. "I'm sorry, Russo - I can't let you." He spoke, before taking aim and pulling the trigger - someone would hear the shot.

Marco: When the shot rang out, there was a small cry of pain from the man -- taking a stumbling step back as a hand went to his shoulder where it had ripped through the bone. The cry of pain almost had a lupine-like growl to it as his eyes flashed once more; grunting before he was looking up at the other man. He shakes his head again, this time his eyes not fading, "You should not have missed," he breathed, voice soft before his hand came away from his shoulder -- already covered with his own blood -- and was grabbing at the wrist that held the gun; shoving him back with the grip and up against the wall, twisting his arm back and behind him as he used his knee to shove him into the wall from his back -- hoping to cause him to drop the gun.

Guard: The shot missing its mark was likely one of the most horrific moments of Richards life - but then again, it wasn't near as horrific as losing his family had been. And with that, he tried to get off another shot before the man that had once been his friend was grabbing him and twisting his arm. "You'll die in there, Russo. They'll kill you like the dog you are." He hissed at the man, as the pain in his arm made him release the gun with a clatter as it dropped to the ground.

Marco: His claws had dropped, and despite how much easier it would be to incapacitate Richard if he used them, he was still merely using his strength to hold the man up against the wall; even if his anger made him shake and his vision run red -- blood beginning to run down his arm and stain his shirt. "I would not worry about my fate too much, Richard -- I will give you one last chance. I can let go, and you can run. Or I will get past you to get my sister. Will you let me past? Do not lie to me."

Guard: Richard's expression steeled as the other spoke, "No." He answered, "If you have to kill me then do it - I'd rather not live in this world anyways." He growled. Never would he let any of them escape willingly.

Marco: Marco swallows thickly for a moment ; closing his eyes as he fell quiet. He listened ; listened to Richard's heartbeat, before pushing past it and listening to the heartbeats of every single person inside of the facility -- meshed with the heartbeats of his team. Somewhere in there, one of those heartbeats was his sister's. He lets out a quiet growl, the hand of his injured arm coming up to press against his throat - to dig claws into the skin, " -- they have fed you lies that we are monsters; and I do not believe that I can change your mind. I didn't want to do this, Richard. I hope you understand that - that I can't let your life stand in the way of Shilo's, and every other innocent supernatural creature inside." He hesitates another beat before a slow, weak heartbeat stood out from all the others -- one that pushed and pulled at him before he was ripping across Richard's throat in one, quick swipe and stepping away to let him fall.

Erica

Erica watched with caution from the sidelines -- listening carefully as her eyes continued to be a soft, gold beacon in the night, fingers curled around the bark of the tree as if she was anchoring herself down and readying herself. But, as she watched the exchange, a shot was fired -- she went to move, but Stuart grabbed her by the wrist ( "Wait, look -- give him time," Stuart was whispering. ) before she watched him shove the man against the wall, talk to him for a moment longer before the man fell.

Erica could smell guilt and sadness from the man who hovered over the body -- but, what was important in the moment was that she smelled emotion. The lack thereof would mean he was losing control, but he just felt ... sad. "He's good," Erica started, "Quick, he said, we need to move."

Stuart: Stuart was nodding in agreement with Erica when she spoke, "She's right -- people inside, the wrong people, would've already heard gunfire; we need to get moving quickly." He's finally looking to Allison, giving her a small nod before he was beginning to move out of the tree line, making sure his radio was on -- but low enough to not be heard outside of his own ears -- and trusting that everyone else would follow as he approached where Marco stood ; the alpha soon shaking himself out of his stupor and following Stuart and Erica in -- hanging back only slightly to wait for Blake.

Allison: Allison met eyes with Stuart before she was moving just slightly behind him, gun at the ready. She gazed at the alpha as she moved closer, studying the way he seemed to shake himself out of whatever head space he was in. Her eyes turn towards the door, knowing there is nothing she can do to comfort him or the obviously distressed werefox behind her. She keeps herself focused on what she can control - and at the moment that is keeping Stuart safe.

Blake

Blake could barely watch the interaction, eyes tearing away from the scene only to be drawn back like a horror movie. Allison had to grab her forearm when the gun shot echoed in her head, rattling around like a bad movie soundtrack. She gripped at the bark of the nearest tree until its rough surface cut into her palm and the man that Marco had known fell to the ground dead. It takes all she has not to run to Marco, to make sure that he is okay.

Instead she takes a deep breath and wipes at her eyes, looking away from the group now approaching him for the merest moment. It would likely not be the only person Marco had to kill that night, but it doesn't stop the way Blake feels terror rush beneath her skin for him. She steels herself and finally follows behind them, at a slight jog to catch up. When she reaches them, she has to suck in a breath to steady herself before she looks to Marco - confirming that the wound is already healing, eyes brimming with concern that she swallows down in preparation for whatever they're about to face.

Marco: As he hung back to wait for Blake, his attention did pull to the still pulsing injury on his shoulder ; shoving his ruined sleeve up to look at it -- he didn't have time to be in awe of how quickly he was healing ; how the wound was almost closing before his eyes, and all that would be left of it in a few moments would just the blood -- it was his hand skittering across it gently that made him realize his claws were still out ; stained with his own blood, and Richard's. He's inhaling sharply and jerking his hand away as if he had been burned, forcing the claws back in in time to look up to see Blake. He sighs -- looking to Stuart for a brief moment, nodding to him before gesturing down the hallway that Stuart had instructed them to go down.

Stuart

He paused to make sure that everyone was in, keeping one hand free at all times in case he needed to fight before they got into the control room -- taking stock of the small team before looking to Allison, watching as Erica gave him a small look before heading for the stairs -- watching her glowing eyes before she disappeared out of sight.

He grasps at Allison's wrist, squeezing gently, "Left, and then a right --" he whispers the directions to her, in case they were somehow split up in the small distance between here and there.

Allison: Allison looks to Stuart and gives him a small smile, "I'm right on you," She told him gently, as though to say that she wasn't going anywhere. She had no intention of being split up from him - they were doing this together and making it out safely this time. Without any extra bullet wounds.

Blake: Blake catches a breath before she is pulling her gun from its holster and checking it over. She may have claws, but a gun is going to help much more when she's across the hall from her opposition. She watches Erica go with a quiet frown, looking to Marco now for his lead.

Marco

Marco inhales a shaky breath, looking back to Blake for just a moment before glancing down the hallway. His senses were still vastly unfamiliar to him, and it took a moment to try and narrow in on what he wanted. No -- needed, not wanted. Because what he wanted was to try and hone in on Shilo's heartbeat. But what he needed was to make sure that there was no danger between them and her. Listening down the hall for out of place heartbeats.

"--- I think we are clear for now," he whispers, voice scarcely audible as he knew her ears would pick it up before beginning to follow Stuart's directions down the hallway, eyes glowing a soft red as he did.

Stuart: He merely gives a mute nod to Allison when she confirms that she's right behind him, feeling the red hot heat of his magic on standby as he kept himself as close to the wall as possible. While he could do a lot, they didn't have the advantage of superhuman senses like the rest of the team. He took the directions that he had given Allison, making sure she was still on him, before coming to a door ; quietly trying it before gesturing to her to watch his back - he needed to pop the lock.

Allison: Allison followed behind Stuart, her training kicking in like it had only been hours since her last training session. She didn't have superhuman hearing, but she knew what to listen for - footsteps and casual chatter. When Stuart nodded to her, Allison stands close by and keeps her gaze scanning the area around them, occasionally glancing to the door. It was likely that there was someone inside that room, but they wouldnt know until they got the door open. "Careful," She warned him softly.

Blake: Blake follows silently down the hall, her gun at the ready as she keeps an eye on their backs, letting the others cover in front of them. She stays close to Marco, not staying more than a couple of feet behind him in case he picked up Shilo's presence. All the while she was listening for James to no avail.

Marco

He's quiet all the while, listening to whatever signs that he could pick up -- albeit, after a while, he picks up the same, slow heart beat as before; and his breathing stutters as he stops in the hallway ; red hues fluttering shut as he slowed his breathing to try and find the direction that the heart beat was coming from. It was her--, it had to be. He was still for a very long moment -- scarcely not even aware that what he was listening to was a pack draw -- before he was opening his eyes again, "Two doors on the left," he whispers, gesturing forward before going for the door ; feeling the resistance of the lock.

"I'm going to break the lock," he then tells her, already beginning to put a little more force behind the doorknob as he hears metal begin to groan.

Stuart: He merely nods mutely at Allison -- knowing that the control room was likely not unmanned. He wraps his hand more firmly around the metal of the doorknob, a flash of purple in his eyes before he was closing them ; focusing on the lock. " -- whoever is in there is going to hear it," he breaths, "We need to be ready as soon as it opens." Seconds after he spoke, the lock is clicking open and he's opening the door quickly, eyes still flared up purple as he steps to the side to give Allison room ; at her back to defend her if he needed to.

Allison: Allison is moving into the door slowly as soon as Stuart moves aside, and she spots her a second too late - a flash of dark hair in the corner of her peripheral vision that jumps at her. She's pushed to the side as she's tackled, gun clattering to the floor as it's shoved out of her hand. Allison struggles, tumbling to the floor with the woman, ignoring the pain that flares up in her shoulder.

Blake: Blake nearly runs into Marco as he stops suddenly, turning around to face him as he seems to be trying to find Shilo. She knew that connection like the back of her hand - she'd had the same thing with James since the day she was born. It had nearly killed her the day he'd gone missing. She nods as he moves towards a door, and when he speaks she doesn't say a word, merely watches the hall around them and readies her gun over his shoulder into the room, just in case.

Dev: The door clicks open and Dev is ready, knife in her hand as she launches herself at the dark-haired woman coming into the room. She moves to stab the woman as they tumble to the floor but the knife hits the tile beside her head and sticks - abandoning it she goes to her throat with a hand, trying to gain enough leverage to at least force her to pass out. She winces as a foot connects with her shin, before she's toppled over and the woman is on top of her.

Marco

He feels his strength in ways he never had before -- barely even *straining* as he felt the lock groan more so until it *snaps* inside of the door; releasing the handle as it merely swung open. Marco takes a moment -- just a moment -- to compose himself before he's throwing it the rest of the way open ; and his eyes flicker back to human in a mere heart beat. "Shilo ...-" he is whispering, temporarily sounding much *younger* than he truly was.

There was no one else in the room, mercifully, just her. He couldn't tell if she was aware or not where she was sitting up against the wall -- no longer hesitating even slightly as he rushed into the small room and crashed to his knees by her; a hand on her shoulder as he spoke in quick, panicked Spanish, "Shilo -- little sister.... It's ... It's Marco... I -- I am so sorry, can you hear me?"

Stuart

Stuart hisses out Allison's name as the blur of black hair flickers through his vision, eyes flaring up even brighter as the two woman grapple to the ground -- trying to find an in without hurting Allison. He knew that Allison could easily take care of herself, even against supernatural, but he wasn't sure what this woman was capable of.

So, instead of pushing too much, he's merely jerking the knife out of the floor -- pocketing it so that it wasn't in the stranger's reach.

Allison

Allison grunts as she leverages herself on top of the Hunter - clearly one by the way she fights, though she is sloppy. Still, she catches her in the face with a fist and Allison grunts in pain, the two struggling for a few moments longer before Allison gives up trying to pin her. Reeling back with her good shoulder, Allison punches the girl right in the nose, wincing with the pain in her hand from the punch - followed by another. She feels her go limp beneath her and rolls herself off the other girl, standing and retrieving her gun just in case the other wakes up.

Gun pointed at the Hunter, she looks to Stuart, "What do we do with her?" She asks.

Blake: Blake moves into the room behind Marco, staying near the door to watch for anyone coming down the hall as Marco tried to rouse his sister into lucidity - "We need to go soon, Marco," She warned him softly, "You're going to need to carry her."

Dev: Devana struggles the best she can, catching the woman in the jaw with a stray punch before her face is lighting up with pain. Soon after, she's seeing stars and then her world goes black.

Shilo

A sound seems to come from somewhere in her world, but sounds have long since become her jailers. She tries to swim through the void of sound to figure out what this new one is, and it is the touch of skin on her own that seems to lead the way - the sound of her native tongue spoken to her in rushed tones that helps her blink back enough of the fog to see the face so close to her own that if she could lift her arms she would just to confirm its reality.

"Brother?" It seems unreal - she'd long since lost count of the days since she'd seen his face. Perhaps she had finally died? Her voice is hoarse, cracked from the crying that was all she could do to appease the screams that wanted to burst forth.

Marco

He almost doesn't hear Blake's voice as he tries to pull his sister back to him, a hand coming up -- shaky as it was -- to press against her jawline; soothing his thumb over her skin, over the dried tear lines, as he watched her. As his breath shook and he realized there were wet tears on his own cheeks that he didn't even know when they started. Pleading gently under his breath before was speaking.

A sob broke out of his chest, dropping his head down against her for a moment. "Shi --- I am so sorry, Shi. It's me, I'm here. You're safe now, I promise. We -- we don't have time. I'm going to carry you out of here, okay?"

Stuart

Stuart merely watches helpless from the side for a moment before huffing out a small breath when the stranger is knocked unconscious -- stepping into Allison's space to rest a gentle hand on her shoulder, affirming that she was alright. "Tie her up in the corner -- if she's in here, she's important. She knows things we need to know. We'll take her back to the Underground. Have Satomi see if she can get anything out of her." From there. .. -- he wasn't sure. They weren't the torturing type, and he wasn't sure what other methods Satomi had up her sleeve.

He was turning away from Allison, because they didn't have much time, before sitting down at the computer -- plugging in his tablet before beginning to pull up programs -- "Radio the others, let them know we're in and to give me a few minutes."

Allison: Allison had been prepared for this, pulling her backpack off and digging in it for the rope she'd packed. She set to work tying up the Hunter while Stuart began his work. When he speaks, she nods, and pulls out her radio - "We're in. We need a few, I'll radio when we're ready - if it's longer than five minutes then go." She tucks it away again before finishing tying up their new captive. Her knots are tight, and she makes sure of it - there's no room for a mistake here.

Blake: Blake hears her radio crackle to life and she sighs, anxious to get going, but she pulls her radio out and confirms Allison's message - letting them know that they were safe. She tucks it back away and glances back at Marco, her heart hurting for him in that moment.

Shilo: Shilo doesn't speak, she merely nods at his words - fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. Each muscle in her body screams as she tries to move, strained too long with the pain of the handicap preventing her from screaming. "I can't move," She speaks softly, apologetically.

Marco

His bottom lip trembles slightly despite himself, kissing her forehead before he was nodding, "It's okay," he promises, smoothing her hair from her features, "I can carry you, it's okay -- I'm going to get you out. I'm going to get you somewhere safe, and we're going to get that thing off of you, I promise." He soothes that hand through her hair before speaking again, "I'm going to move you now, okay?" He gives her a moment to comprehend that before he's gently cradling her, one arm under her legs, and the other around her shoulders before he's standing with her; amazed at his strength, at how she felt weightless as he cradled her against his chest, looking to Blake.

Now they waited for the cells to be sprung so Erica could direct James down to Blake and they could leave. Because he wasn't leaving without Blake, either.

Stuart

He spares a small glance to Allison before looking back to the computer -- starting a download onto his device of data before he was beginning to look into the security files, releasing each and every one of the data files on the "patients", as they were called ( it made him sick ).

"Alarms disabled," he spoke as he continued to filter through things, his voice scarcely audible over the sound of him typing and opening different files. He was quiet for a moment longer before huffing out a breath, a very fleeting smile on his lips before it was gone, "Cell doors should be opening."

Allison: Allison listens and watches, waiting for Stuart to work his magic before she pulls out the radio again. "Cells should be opening now." She breathes into the radio, tucking it away again as she waited for Stuart to be done so they could get the hell out of there.

Blake: When Allison speaks into the radio again, she feels a small sense of relief that is only fleeting - they still have a long way to go before they are in the clear. She glances back to Marco and Shilo, gaze flitting over both of them before she is looking back to the door, gun held up and ready to shoot anyone coming through that door with a gun.

Shilo: Shilo merely nods, closing her eyes as he lifts her, hiding the pain poorly but still attempting to hide it. She catches her breath when he finally has her cradled against his chest, breathing short and harsh.

Marco

He can smell the pain radiating off of her -- all of his senses still so startlingly new that he was surprised he was able to identify what he was sensing. Regardless, he was resting a hand on the back of her neck ; holding her steady against him as he did what he had only been told that he was able to do -- breath hitching as he began to draw her pain out. He could take it, he had been in pain for over ten years -- and, for the first time, he wasn't; he could shoulder Shilo's.

"Floor two clearing out -- heading your way, Red Leader," came Erica's voice, addressing Satomi before, "Red Heeler, Metztli -- plus one friendly headed your way." James was headed their way --

Stuart: "A few more seconds--" Stuart was whispering, standing to his feet so that he could be ready to pull out his tablet and leave, "Can you carry her by yourself, or will you need my help?" he's asking, looking over his shoulder and pausing merely to listen to Erica's voice over the radio. They could do this --, but he didn't have time, at the moment, to relish the hopeful approaching victory.

Allison: Allison smiles as she hears Erica's voice over the radio and as Stuart stands, she is moving towards the unconscious hunter. She tested her weight, lifting her up over her shoulder, "Yeah, I've got her - just not for an extended amount of time." She wasn't too heavy, Allison would be fine for now. She moves towards the door, readying herself to leave as soon as Stuart is ready.

Blake: Blake's heart leaps into her throat as she hears Erica's voice over the radio, before she is feeling him all but running towards their location. A half-sob leaves her throat, and she is met after a minute with her brother's strong scent as he turns the corner and they collide into a hug that sends her reeling backwards just a little with the force of it. "James," she laughs disbelievingly against his shoulder and allows herself one more moment of contact before she pulls back and retrieves her radio, "Friendly received," She confirms, sounding breathlessly happy.

Shilo: Somehow, Shilo's pain seems to dissipate with her brothers touch and she's not sure why - but it is still not enough. She remains still save for the shaking of her body in his arms, not lifting her head from his shoulder - trusting that he will get her to safety. She knows that if he's made it this far to get her, he won't fail.

Marco

Marco keeps his eyes out down the hallway as James and Blake reunite -- a small, hidden smile on his lips as he holds Shilo just a little tighter, nodding as she radios back Erica and making brief eye contact with James ; deciding to reintroduce himself once they were out of here.

"Clearing out floor three -- three minutes, I will be right behind floor three, copy Red Leader?" came Erica's voice over the radio, answered quickly by Satomi.

"It is also time for us to leave," Marco was telling Blake and James. "Quickly ; even if Stuart disarmed the alarms, Richard's gunfire was enough to get attention. I am surprised we have no been attacked yet."

Stuart: "Just let me know when you need me to take over," he tells her, gently taking the radio from her hip as he listens to Blake and Erica and Satomi. "Juliet and Pariah clearing out -- radio silence unless you need assistance," he spoke quickly, nodding to Allison before he was leading the way out of the control room.

Blake: Blake nods, gun at the ready as she looks back to James and Marco, "Just stay close," She tells them, leading the way out of the room and down the hall back the way they'd come. They were so close to getting out of there that it almost felt like a victory, but she knew better than to count her ducks before they hatched.

Marco: Marco nods to her, keeping Shilo cradled close to his chest -- letting Blake lead the way this time, as he couldn't fight as easily with Shilo in his arms. He didn't want to drop her, not when she was in this state -- he had to protect her, when he hadn't been able to for the past four years. "Keep your ears open-" he whispered.

Blake: Blake half-smiles at his words, because she never closes them. They move at a good pace through the halls, back to the door that they entered through and out into the fresh air - one step closer to freedom. She can't wait to have James safe again.

Marco: He follows them more so as they get closer to the entrance, trying not to jostle Shilo too much as he did so. Albeit, they were almost at hte door when Marco's jaw tightens, "I think there is people outside," he whispering, eyes glowing as he tightens his grip on his sister.

Blake: "I'll go first," Blake whispers, readying her gun as she gently nudges the door open with her gun held at the ready - James close behind her. The people outside are not what she expects, and for a moment she pulls up short, shocked into silence.

Marco

Marco slowly edges out behind them, Shilo still cradled in his arms -- the people across the area looked *cautious* of them, but curiosu as well. And Marco's eyes narrow, looking over his shoulder as his heart hammers. He hears slight fighting in the distance, but there is no sound over the radio -- so he assumes that it was on Erica's side of things, and Satomi's group has it taken care of.

"-- who are these people? These are not security."

Blake

Blake holds her gun up at them despite their lack of weapons or aggressive behaviour - she isn't going to be caught off guard. She frowns at them, keeping herself between them and her companions.

"I don't know -" She manages to get out before she notices a camera - "They have a camera -" She hisses out to Marco, too quiet for anyone but their own ears and James' to pick up.

Marco: Eyes skitter back behind him where he can still hear the commotion of the fighting -- before flinching harshly when the alarms finally click on; blaring against his senses and causing his breathing to stutter before he's looking back to Blake and James. It seemed apparent that Erica and the others - of Satomi's group - were acting as a distraction and the people at the facility didn't even seem to bother to check if anyone left out the front. "Take Shilo, you and James leave -" he whispered back to her ; keeping himself close to their small group.

Blake: Blake paused a moment at his words, not wanting to leave him for the life of her, but she knew it was best - they wouldn't be watching her go off if he distracted them and then she could get him out of there. She tucked her gun away, tenderly taking the girl from his arms and giving him a look that screamed I will get you out of here before she was motioning to James and running off into the tree line with him.

Marco: "I'll be fine," he whispers under his breath when he hands Shilo off gently; trusting the Blake would get his sister to safety.

Blake: Once safely inside the tree line, Blake grabs her radio from her pocket while James helps hold Shilo - "Pariah, we need backup - reporters or something on Metztli. We need a distraction to get him out of there."

Marco: His gaze is flickering once more to the door that was still wide open -- and he seems to be approaching the reporters. "Reporters?" Stuart is responding quickly back over the radio. There is a moment of silence before he was likely speaking with Allison -- telling her to watch his back. "Circling back -- I'll get them off of him."

Blake: Blake stood by with her breath held as she watched and waited with anxiety for Stuart to get the reporters off of Marco - to get him back into the safety of the shadows.

[jancys-blue-bayou]

I have an idea for a chapter for your Jancy kid fic where Emily comes running to her daddy with her favorite stuffed animal in hand and she's crying because it has a rip in it so he calms her down and sews it back up for her (because Joyce definitely taught him to sew) all while she watches with wet and worried eyes. If you used this it would be amazing c: thank you!

OK this anon is actually @iamthethumperanon after the prompt we talked more and expanded on this idea together to the point where she deserves like a partial writing credit or like co- story by credit on this lol. Since then we’ve talked endlessly about different ideas for fics (both We’ll figure it out and some other stuff I have upcoming) and h/c’s so yeah, hopefully we’ll have a lot more for you soon (sort of depends on how much time life gives me to write right now).

Also on Ao3 and FFNet

He’s working from home for the day, bent over some different storyboards he’s going over for the magazine when his concentration is broken by a loud cry.

”Daa-aaa-ddy!!!”

Emily’s shout is mixed with sobs and the five year old runs into the room with tears streaming down her face. She’s clutching her favorite stuffed animal, a fluffy bunny, tight against her chest.

”H-H-Hopper is hurt!” She cries and holds out the bunny towards him. There’s a noticeable tear in a spot where one of its legs meets the body, with some of the stuffing threatening to spill out.

The bunny was a gift from Will. In fact it was the first gift Emily ever received, in a way her first possession in the world. Will had given it to her the day after Emily was born, when they brought her home from the hospital. Which meant he’d had it ready for weeks, both he and Nancy were really touched by that. So the bunny had been there for as long as Emily could remember, when she grew she just grew more attached to it, she took it with her everywhere she went. He and Nancy hadn’t given it a name, only referring to it as Fluff-Bunny (”Did you remember to pack Fluff-Bunny?”), feeling it was Emily’s job to name it when time came. And when she’d learnt to talk she soon did. Hopper. They still weren’t sure how, but Nancy of course has a theory. That Emily overheard them calling his stepfather Hopper, and at the same time Nancy was reading a picture book about a bunny family for Emily, in which the rabbits of course hopped around.

When they first heard Emily call the bunny Hopper they both doubled over laughing. As soon as they had collected themselves Nancy went to the phone and dialed the number to his childhood home while he listened in. It was Will, home from college at RISD on a break, who answered. He burst out laughing as soon as Nancy told him and then they could here him calling over to Hopper, the real life Hopper, what Emily had named her bunny. Hopper’s groan had been loud enough for them to hear over the phone. From then on his dear stepfather was known by Emily as Bunny Grandpa, to differentiate him from Hopper the Bunny and her other grandpa. He and Nancy both of course referred to the bunny as Hopper too – that was its name after all, and whenever the three of them were visiting back in Hawkins they said Hopper and Bunny Grandpa to avoid confusion. Both Will and El soon joined in, and even his mom, to his stepfather’s chagrin.

His heart aches at seeing his daughter so upset. He bends down on one knee in front of her and carefully looks Hopper over.

”It’s okay Sweetheart, he can get better,” he assures her and wipes away some tears from her face.

”C-c-can he?” She chokes out, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes.

”Yes, I promise, I can fix. May I?”

Emily nods seriously and places Hopper in his hands. He clears away his work stuff from his desk and lays down the bunny on it. Then he gets his sewing kit out of a drawer. He had made sure to get it when he moved away from home. He still remembers the first time it had came to use, during freshman year of college.

”Aw, you ripped the hem of my skirt last night,” Nancy notes while sitting up in bed one lazy Sunday morning after a passionate Saturday night, picking the garment up off the floor.

”Oh, crap, I’m sorry,” he sits up too and looks over the damage to the skirt she’s holding in her hands. ”I’m so so sorry,” he profusely apologizes.

”It’s fine,” she shrugs but he can tell from the look on her face that she’s a little bit upset.

”You love that skirt,” he notes.

”Not as much as you do it seems,” she smirks at him.

”That’s fair,” he answers while blushing. ”I can fix it,” he offers.

She looks at him quizzically. He goes to his desk drawer and takes out his sewing kit, then sits back down and takes the skirt from her.

”You have a sewing kit?!” She asks in disbelief.

”Yes,” he answers while looking over the damage to the hem more closely.

”You know how to sew?”

”Yes.”

”How?”

”Learned it from my mom,” he answers while threading the needle.

”Well, my mom showed me how to sew too, but I never learned.”

”I had to.”

”Why?”

He’s quiet for a second while he begins to repair the damage as the memory comes flooding back to him. The words start to spill out of him as they always do when it’s just Nancy there listening. He can tell her anything, he knows. He wants to tell her everything.

~ ~ ~

”Jonathan!!” Will comes running into his room, crying and clutching his favorite stuffed animal, Chester the dog. ”Dad destroyed,” his five year old brother gets out between sobs. He looks closer at Chester and sees that the stuffed doggy has a big tear along its side. ”I-I left him on the floor when I went to get my crayons and dad stepped on him and said I’m not supposed to leave my stuff all over the floor and he tore Chester look!!” Will cries.

He feels anger bubble up in his chest. He hates dad when he’s like that. Which is all the time, really. Why does Will have to watch where he puts his things? Can’t he watch where he’s walking? Mom never steps on any of their stuff.

”It’s going to be okay,” he tries to calm his brother down, putting an arm around him and hugging him.

”No it won’t,” Will continues to cry.

His mind is racing. Mom could fix this, he’s pretty sure. She can fix most things. But she’s not home. She’s working a double-shift. When she does that she’s not home until well past Will’s bedtime. And Will won’t be able to go to sleep without Chester, he knows that. So Chester has to be fixed now. So it’s up to him, he realizes. He’s watched his mom fix stuff many times, sewing up holes in his pants, rips and tears in his sweaters. She had even let him try, letting him help her sew up a tear in one of his most well-worn pairs of jeans. He’s pretty sure he can do this. Well, he hopes so at least.

”Come on,” he says and tugs Will with him out of his room and into mom and dad’s bedroom. He opens the drawer in the dresser where he knows mom keeps the sewing kit and grabs it. Then they go to the kitchen. Dad is passed out in front of the tv with a beer in front of him, as usual.

He puts the sewing kit down on the table and beckons for Chester. Will hands him over, not crying anymore but still looking very worried. It takes a couple of tries but he manages to thread the needle and gets to work. Remembering what mom has told him he looks closely and works slowly and patiently, making a lot of small stitches since it’s better than a few big ones. When he think he’s done he takes a really close look of his work. Knowing he can’t do it any better than that he cuts of the thread and hands Chester back to Will.

”What do you think?”

Will looks over Chester with wide eyes, then gets up from his chair in a hurry and hugs him tight.

”Thank you.”

”No problem,” he says while huggings his brother back.

Later he helps Will get ready for bed as he does when mom works late. As usual he sits with his little brother for a while telling stories before Will is sufficiently sleepy and dozes of with Chester clutched to his breast. He goes into his own room and reads for a while and does his math homework. He’s getting ready for bed himself when mom comes home. He hears her open the door to Will’s room first, checking that he’s asleep, then she pokes her head inside his room. She looks tired.

”Hey Sweetie, all good?” She asks with one of those smiles she gives him when she looks really exhausted like she can barely muster up the energy for it but still always does.

”Yep,” he answers. ”I just did my homework. I’m going to bed.”

”That’s great Sweetie. Goodnight.”

”Night.”

It’s when he hears her footsteps walk towards the kitchen that he remembers that he forgot to put away her sewing kit. And also when he remembers that he’s not allowed to use it when she’s not home. Sure enough, soon he hears her footsteps rapidly coming back towards his room.

”Jonathan! I’ve told you, you aren’t allowed to use the sewing kit without me! The needle is really sharp and you could have your eye out and I don’t have a lot of thread and we need it for-”

”I’m sorry mommy, I’m sorry but I had to, it was an emergency,” he apologizes.

”What emergency?” She challenges.

”Dad tore up Chester and Will was crying and he can’t sleep without Chester and I knew you worked until after Will’s bedtime so I had to fix it.”

His mom’s facial expressions softens at his explanation. Then she walks over to his bed and hugs him.

”You’re the best big brother in the whole world, Jonathan,” she says. ”I love you so much.”

”I love you too, mommy.”

~~~

He finishes stitching up Nancy’s skirt at the same time as he finishes telling the story. He looks up when he hears a sniffle and to his surprise sees Nancy wiping away tears from her eyes. Then she flings her arms around his neck and hugs him.

”You’re the sweetest person in the whole world, Jonathan.”

”I don’t know,” he says while hugging her back.

”Well I know. You are,” she says firmly.

He shrugs and hands back the skirt. She looks it over, nods approvingly and tries it on for good measure.

”Still fits,” she notes. ”Are you sure about photography as your major? Think you should consider transferring to fashion design,” she jokes.

Emily stands next to his desk, wringing her hands together nervously and watching with still wet worried eyes while he sews up Hopper with the utmost care. When he’s done he hands Hopper back to Emily. She carefully looks him over, then hugs her dear bunny tight. Then she climbs up into his lap and hugs him.

”Thank you thank you thank you daddy, you saved Hopper!”

”No problem, Peanut.”

”I love you daddy.”

”I love you too Sweetheart.”

They hear Nancy’s key in the lock and Emily immediately runs out to the hall to greet mommy as usual. He follows.

”Mommy! Mommy!”

”Hey Sweetie,” Nancy smiles at Emily running up to her but it disappears when she sees the remnants of tears on Emily’s cheeks and her red eyes. ”What’s wrong?” She asks while picking up their daughter.

”Hopper had accident but daddy saved him, look,” Emily tells Nancy and shows her Hopper’s stitches.

”Oh, wow, I’m sorry Hopper. But how lucky are we that daddy is great at fixing,” Nancy says and smiles at him while she wipes away the remaining tears on Emily’s face.

”Yes, daddy can fix everything,” Emily nods seriously before clinging her little arms around Nancy’s neck, hugging her.

”I know, he really can,” she answers before mouthing ”No pressure” to him over their daughter’s shoulder.

He smiles at her. Nancy sets Emily down on the floor again and takes off her coat before coming over and giving him a quick kiss and a knowing look while stroking his back.

”Well, what else did I miss today?” Nancy then asks and Emily launches in to a dramatic retelling of their day.

[sundayskin]

Layering skincare 101 {Korean skincare routine}

Hi there. I know getting into Korean skincare can be overwhelming, especially when you hear about the 10-step routine, double cleansing and what-not so I wanted to (hopefully) make an easy to understand guide to those of you who are trying to create their perfect routine. I’m going to go through the steps I personally take and I’ll also recommend some products for each step to get you guys started. Okay, you ready? Lets do this!

1. Cleanse ... and cleanse again 💧

If you wear makeup you’ll want to double cleanse for your first step. First, you can use an oil based cleanser or some people prefer to use cleansing wipes, it’s totally up to you. I know the Banila Co Clean It Zero is a super popular makeup removing cleanser. I personally don’t wear makeup so I skip right to the second cleansing step, your basic everyday cleanser. Your second cleanse will remove any remaining residue on your skin and prepare it for your next skincare steps. When looking for a cleanser, its best to pay attention to the ph level - they say 5.5 is the natural ph level of skin so having a cleanser with a ph under this will allow the skin to retain its natural state. To put it another way, if your cleanser has a high ph level (higher than 5.5) it can strip your skin of its natural oils and leave it dry, which is something we definitely don’t want. I know the whole ph level thing can be a lot to understand, but don’t stress - the majority of the time cleansers keep this in mind and have a lower ph and usually indicate that they do. Check out the Cosrx Low-ph Good Morning Cleanser, its my favorite cleanser and I recommend it for all skin types out there. The Neogen Green Tea Fresh Foam Cleanser is a popular one as well.

➡️Before moving on, it’s important to exfoliate your skin as well. I didn’t add this in as a step because, well, I completely forgot about it until after writing the majority of this post. Better late than never right? Anyways, I exfoliate every few days after washing and before toning. Some external exfoliators, aka face scrubs, I’ll recommend are any of the wash off masks by Skinfood like the Strawberry one I reviewed in another post or this vitamin C and Oryza Sativa Scrub by Now. Basically, don’t forget to exfoliate your skin a few times a week based on your skin type and its needs. Ok, let’s move on. 

2. Tone

For the second step its time to use a toner... wait this is only the second step?! I think toning has a lot of different purposes, but to me its like the last stage of cleansing and its meant to remove any leftover residue that may still be on my skin and to create a fresh canvas for the next steps. There are so many different toners with unique purposes - some are moisturizing, brightening, pore-tightening, etc. It’s really fun to search around and find a toner that is perfect for your skin needs. Now some people apply toner with their hands and pat it in, but I don’t personally do that. Because I consider a toner as being a part of the cleansing portion of my skincare routine, I use a cotton pad and apply it by swiping it across my face. ⭐A quick tip: from experience, I’ve found toners that appear to be water-like in texture are meant to be applied with a cotton pad while thicker liquid toners are typically the ones that are applied by hands directly onto the skin and pat in (these are really more of an essence, which is what we will talk about next). Toners I’ve tried and loved are the Neogen Real Flower Cleansing Water, the Etude House Wonder Pore Freshner, and the Son and Park Beauty Water (this definitely lives up to its name!), all of which I apply using a cotton pad. 

3. Essence 

I use essence as my first step of “giving back” to my skin if you know what I mean. After all that cleansing its time to give your skin some good products to absorb. Again, like toners, there are so many different essences with different purposes. Key ingredients to look for are fermented ingredients as they have so many benefits for the skin (do some research online if you want further explanation; this post may never end if I try to explain, plus I’m really no expert). With essences you simply put some in the palm of your hand and pat it into the skin. My all-time favorite essence that I always have on hand is Missha’s Time Revolution First Treatment Essence. The Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence by Cosrx is also a popular one and way cheaper than the Missha essence. 

4. Serum

Okay, its time for a serum. You could totally skip this step - I just recently joined the serum club and I think they are great for the skin but if you're on a budget or want to start off with just the basics you can leave serums for later after you’ve formed a solid routine. ⭐Another tip here: don’t try too many new products at once; if you do it can be hard to see what products are actually effective and what might be ineffective or making your skin problems worse. Once again, what serum you use it totally up to you, there are an uncountable amount of serums out there, from ones for brightening to ones that help acne prone skin. All I can say is really pay attention to the ingredients list and the customer reviews and all you can do is try products and see if they work or don’t work for your skin. I love the Klairs Vitamin C Serum as well as the Valjean Labs Restore Serum (this one isn’t a Korean brand, but hey its still a great serum). Pat a serum into your skin just as you would with an essence, though sometimes I find a serum can be too thick and most of the product just stays on my hands, so I often mix my essence together with my serum to make it easier to apply. 

5. Moisturize

Moisturizing is pretty straight forward, so I’ll cut to the chase. My favorite moisturizers are the Aloe Vera Gel by Nature Republic and the Cosrx Oil-Free Ultra Moisturizing Lotion. Both are great for all skin types whether you’re oily or extremely dry. If I had to recommend just one I’d choose the aloe vera gel, because its so lightweight but you can put more or less based on how much moisture you need. If the Nature Republic one is out of your budget or it’s difficult for you to order online, I found a similar product at Target that I’ll assume is just as good of a moisturizer. Aloe Vera isn’t only moisturizing but its also great at calming irritated/red skin and for those who have trouble with acne. If you have extremely dry, flaky skin, try out the Cosrx moisturizer. Snail based creams are also a great moisturizer for all skin types. 

6. Sun protection 🌞

Sunscreen is the last step in my routine. To be honest, I’m still on the hunt for a perfect, lightweight sunscreen for my skin. After all these steps, your skin should already be very moisturized and ready to take on the day, so having a lightweight sunscreen is a must. Look for a product that is gel like in texture as apposed to thick. I hope to get my hands on the Nivea Sun Super Water Gel as I’ve heard great things about it. I’ve tried the A’pieu Daily Sun Cream and its the best sunscreen I’ve come across so far. Its fairly lightweight and there’s no white cast. Just like any other step, it may take a few tries before you find the best product for you. In any case, this step is so important for your skin’s health, especially in the summer months, so don’t skip it!

7. (EXTRA) Mist 💦💦

Adding in a mist is totally extra and unnecessary, but I love having a mist on hand so I can add some extra moisture in my routine - plus, it feels really nice and refreshing. I don’t use a mist at any specific time, just whenever I feel like it while doing my skincare routine or even in the middle of the day when I feel I need a boost of moisture. In all the mists I’ve tried I haven’t had any bad experiences, but I personally really like the Lush Tea Tree Water (you could use this as a toner as well!) and the Mario Badescu Facial Spray. I know these aren’t Korean brands and this is a Korean skincare routine, but its more about the steps than the products being specifically Korean brands so don’t be afraid to mix products and brands to find the best combinations for you! 

Quick side note: some people like to add in an ampoule or an emulsion, which I consider to be nearly the same thing as a serum or essence so I don’t include it in my routine. Maybe I will someday, but for now I’ve got my hands full with my other products. I also didn’t include an eye cream because I haven’t become that advanced yet and really all the creams and moisturizers I apply act in a similar way under my eyes, but feel free to add one in if you think your skin needs it. From what I’ve seen, its usually applied before moisturizer and some only apply it for their nighttime routine. Some people also like to add in a sheet mask or other types of masks, special night creams, sleeping packs, and so on which I do every so often, but they’re really a luxury for me so its not an everyday thing. And though I didn’t mention it, I usually use some kind of spot treatment at night if I’m not being lazy, because my acne is persistent as hell. I wrote another post on some of the spot treatments I use if you want to know more about those.

Whew 💨 that was a lot to read but I hope it helped some of you guys. If you’re still overwhelmed just know that all the products I mentioned are great products to start out with if you don’t know what to try first. Everything I mentioned is great for any and all skin types. And don’t forget my ask is always open, don’t be shy now. Until next time, I wish all of you clear, glowy skin! Good luck~✨

[pocket-luv101]

I thought it would be funny to write Kuro and Hyde meeting their daughter’s date for the first time.

“Hyde scared him that much? I almost feel bad for that poor boy.” Mahiru laughed softly when Licht finished telling her about the dinner they shared with Lucy’s new boyfriend. While her friend had returned to Austria, they would often talk to each other over the phone to keep in contact. From where she sat in the living room, Mahiru glanced to Kuro who was making tea in the kitchen.

She smiled to herself and said, “Kuro is much more easygoing than Hyde. I wonder how he’ll act when Machi’s date comes. Tonight, her school is having a dance. I hope everything goes well for her. She must be both excited and nervous because this is her first date. I felt that way with Kuro. If their relationship turns out as happy as ours, she has a lot of great memories ahead of her.”

Mahiru continued to talk with her friend until Machi leaned out of her room and waved to her. “Mama, can you help me with my hair?”

“I’ll be right there, Sweetie! I have to go, Licht, but I’ll call you later and tell you how it goes.” Mahiru promised and ended the call. She placed her phone in her pocket and walked to Kuro. She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek fondly. “Machi’s date will be here soon. If we’re not done before he arrives, make small talk with the boy.”

“What do kids talk about these days? I feel so old right now. Can’t deal. Hopefully, her date likes vintage games or else it’s just going to be an awkward silence.” Kuro groaned and lifted his tea cup. He only stared at himself in the water. “Time passed quickly, didn’t it? It feels like she was learning how to walk yesterday. Machi is going on her first date now.”

“We raised her well so we don’t need to worry about anything.” Mahiru said confidently. She patted his shoulder reassuringly before she left his side to help Machi. He knew that Mahiru was right so he pushed his worries aside. Kuro brought the tea into the living so he could enjoy it with Mahiru later. When he set the tray down, he heard a knock.

He opened the door and the teenager on the other side greeted him politely. “Hello, Mr. Shirota. I’m here to pick up Machi.”

“She’s still getting ready but you can sit down and wait for her. I think she’ll be finished soon.” Kuro stepped aside and gestured to the living room. He sat down on the couch and watched the boy in the corner of his eyes. He thought of the first time he met Mahiru’s uncle formally and he remembered how nervous he was. “Machi told me you two are schoolmates. Are you in any clubs or sports?”

“I run in track.” He answered and Kuro nodded.

“At your age, I liked video games more than sports. Well, I still feel that way.” He tried to keep their conversation light and casual. “Machi would play fighting games with me when she was little. She’s a strong person like her mother. I should tell you—”

“Is this the part where you threaten me? I already know what you’re going to say so you don’t need to give me that stupid speech.” The boy interrupted him and Kuro’s brows drew together. A smug smile appeared on the kid’s face. It was obvious that he felt proud of himself for the retort. Kuro merely leaned back against the couch and he looked thoughtful for a moment.

He raised his voice only enough for his family down the hall to hear him. Kuro spoke in his usual lazy drawl as he asked: “Machi, is your tournament this Saturday or next Saturday?”

“It’s next Saturday.” She answered him. “I marked it on the calendar already.”

“I wanted to double check.” He said nonchalantly. Kuro tilted a cold, assessing glare towards her date. “Remember, if your opponent is taller than you, you should aim for their throat. Even if it’s a soft punch, they’ll be disorientated and you can hit other vital areas.”

“But, Papa, judo is more defensive throws. I would get disqualified if I did that!” Machi corrected him and Kuro grinned to himself.

The warmth in his eyes turned cold when he faced the teenager. He calmly told him: “Machi is a sweet but, like her mother, you can’t call her weak or naive. If you try anything, she’s perfectly capable of dealing with you herself. Whatever’s left, I’ll take care of afterwards. But we don’t need to worry about that if you treat her right. That’s your intention already, right?”

“Yes, sir!” He said frantically and nodded.

“Also, make an effort to learn more about her if you’re serious about dating her. If you don’t know her hobbies, your relationship won’t last long.” Kuro said. He might not have made the best impression on Kuro but he wanted to let Machi make her own decisions. He would always support his daughter and comfort her whenever she was hurt.

At that moment, Machi and Mahiru came out of the room. Machi smiled when she saw her date. “Takashi! You look great in your suit.”

“You’re beautiful too.” He returned the compliment. “Should we head to prom?”

“Okay! Bye, Mama, Papa, I’ll be back by ten. If anything happens, I’ll call you.” She promised and hugged them briefly. She waved to her parents before she left.

Once the door closed, Mahiru joined Kuro on the couch. She sat next to him and he handed her a cup of tea. She hummed pleasantly as she took a sip. Mahiru cuddled against his side and she glanced up at him. “So, you talked with the boy. What did you think of him? It can’t be good if you brought up Machi’s judo tournament. Machi said he was a nice boy but I can’t help worrying.”

“He’s a little cocky but he seems like a regular teenage jock. Machi can take him. Our daughter is strong and we’re here for her.” He shrugged and she giggled at his answer. “I would rather she finds someone sweet like you, Mahiru. She’s smart so she’ll make the right choice.”

“At least you didn’t try to scare him away like your brother did.”

“Hyde called earlier to complain about Lucy’s new boyfriend. As a father, I can relate to why he did it. He just wanted to protect his little girl.”

The dinner was a little tense because Hyde continued to glare at his guest across the table. His daughter was oblivious as she excitedly told her parent about her day. “They put up the cast for our recital, The Nutcracker, today! I was chosen to be the lead, Clara. Kota has a smaller role but he’s more interested in being an actor than a dancer.”

“I can’t wait to see you dance.” Hyde’s expression softened whenever he spoke with his family. “I knew you would be a brilliant dancer since you were five. You would dance and twirl whenever your mom played a song for you. We still have pictures and videos of you dancing.”

“Dad, you promised no baby pictures!” Lucy blushed and quickly stopped her father. She was grateful for her mother who pulled Hyde’s ear and twisted it mercilessly. Even though her dad could be embarrassing at times, she loved him.

Gil walked into the room carrying a large box. “I bought desert like you ordered.”

“My pie and ice cream! I’ll help you plate them and carry them out.” Lucy said sweetly and jumped to her feet. Honestly, she wanted the chance to sneak an extra large slice of pie for herself. She took one of the boxes from Gil and skipped to the kitchen.

“I’ll go help them. Behave yourself, Hedgehog.” Licht ordered before she followed her daughter to the kitchen. “If you don’t, you can’t have desert.”

“Don’t you trust me, Lichtan? What do you think I’ll do? Stab him with my fork?” Hyde laughed but it didn’t reach his eyes. He twirled his fork between his fingers and then stabbed his food. “I might be an overprotective demon but I won’t hurt the kid. That would make my angels upset. I can’t do that.”

Licht recognized the mischievous glint in his eyes but she only sighed. She left the two alone to help the two in the kitchen. Tension quickly filled the room once they were gone.

“So, you want to be an actor?” Hyde asked slowly once Licht and Lucy were too far to hear them. “It’s hard to break into the industry so you have to work hard and be ambitious. I actually worked as an assistant for a few celebrities when I was younger. It was… interesting. I met my wife through work. I knew a lot of celebrities but my Angel of Music will always be the brightest star I know.”

“Do you still keep in contact with those actors? I would love to speak with them.” The young boy asked excitedly but Hyde’s eyes narrowed. He was far too familiar with how people used networking to forward their careers. He didn’t think it was evil or wrong but he didn’t want the boy to date Lucy for her family name alone. It was rare to find someone like Licht who genuinely worked hard and didn’t rely on others.

Hyde couldn’t be certain of the teenager’s intention so he chose his next words carefully. “I know some people in the industry so maybe I can help you. Do you have a criminal record?”

“No, Sir!” He thought that it was an ordinary interview question. Hyde had to note that the boy was suddenly became animated. It was the most he talked since the dinner began. “Thank you so much for the opportunity. My parents said that I need connections to get big roles in movies.”

“That’s one way, I guess. Letting your hard work and talent speak for itself is another though.” Hyde said but he recognized the impatient look in his eyes. He decided to change the subject.  

“About your record, I can’t take your word alone. They’ll likely conduct a background check. But you don’t have to worry about it too much. If you’re smart like me, you’ll know ways around the police. That’s my little secret though, so you shouldn’t expect me to give you advice.” The boy couldn’t respond immediately because he thought he saw Hyde’s now brown eyes flash blood red briefly.  

“May I ask about the celebrities you worked for? Do I know them?” He asked.

“The celebrities I worked for are all dead now.” His voice was cold and detached when he answered him. “A car crash took one and an unfortunate fall killed another. All tragic accidents, the papers said. I always wonder if that’s true. You’ll be surprised how easy it is to make a murder look like an accident. Well, it’s impossible to know what really happened because they’re all five feet underground.”

He shrugged and then changed the subject. “But that’s neither here nor there. This is about you and your dream to become an actor. It’s okay to reach for the stars but there’s no shortcut you can take. My little angel isn’t a tool you can use to forward your career. If the only thing you’re interested in is Lucy’s name, you’ll get nowhere in this world. I’ll make sure of it.”

Hyde twirled his fork around his finger again. This time, he let it fly towards the boy. He missed him but he threw it with enough force that the dull fork stabbed through the drywall. With a fake smile, Hyde stood and said: “Oh, how clumsy of me! I dropped my fork. I hope that didn’t scare you. Don’t worry, if I was trying to hit you, I would’ve.”

“Oh, really?” Hyde stiffened slightly when he heard Licht’s voice behind him. He slowly turned around and he gave her an apologetic smile. She was holding two plates of deserts in her hands but her glare told him she wanted to spill the food on him. Licht didn’t turn her anger against him though. She kicked the table and sent it flying.

“How dare you try to play with an angel’s heart? Lucy deserves the world, not your halfhearted ass. Get out of my house and never talk to Lucy again!” She yelled and stabbed her finger towards the boy. No matter how protective Hyde could become, Licht would always be more so.

In the next room, Lucy heard a loud crash and breaking dishes. She looked from the door to Gil. Then she laughed and leaned against the kitchen island. “Well, there goes another one. My parents are so dramatic, Uncle Gil!”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.” Gil cut another slice of pie and slid it onto her plate.

RIP anyone who hurts their little girl.

[crossroadsdimension]

Didn’t think I was gonna leave things where I did, did ya?

Putting the chapter under the cut for people too lazy to go over to AO3.

Chapter 3 -- Fishy Stalker

Stan knew that something was up again when Ford came in from the deck for breakfast and was wearing that coral rebreather over his face.

“Disappeared for a midnight swim?” Stan asked dryly.

Ford blinked a couple times, the haze leaving his eyes. He frowned at the rebreather on his face and took it off, then set it on the table and sat down before starting to gnaw on his breakfast -- eggs and pancakes, maybe a tad overcooked but still edible.

Stan put down his fork. “Ford.”

“Hmm?” Ford looked up.

“Midnight swim. Again?” Stan motioned to the rebreather.

Ford sighed, then looked down at his breakfast and started poking it absently with his fork. “I can’t resist it, Stanley. The enchantment’s...rewired my brain somehow. Or-or caused some kind of muscle memory reaction to override anything that I happen to be thinking at the moment or--”

“Hey. We’ll think of something. We’re almost to Gravity Falls; if anyplace is gonna have what we’re gonna need, it’s there.” Stan picked up his fork again. “Now, come on. Eat up. Not exactly gonna be able to do this magic thing on an empty stomach.”

Ford nodded in agreement, then went back to his meal as Stan finished off his and put the plates in the sink. “We should be able to reach Gravity Falls this afternoon. Are the kids already--”

“Two days ago,” Stan replied. “Got a call from ‘em when you were takin’ your nap.”

“Ah.”

“I think Mabel’s torn between thinking your situation’s adorable or terrible.”

Ford’s brow furrowed. “And Dipper?”

“Terrified for you. He’s been digging up myths and books on sirens and it sounds like he doesn’t like what he’s been finding. Nothin’ yet on a reversal spell.”

“Hopefully there will be something in my library that will give us hints as to what could be done.” Ford sighed. “As..grateful as I am that Adeline’s kept the sea monsters in this part of the Pacific at bay, I…I don’t want to think about the fact that I know she can pull me under her enchantment at any time and affect the way I think and act with just her voice, and that when she does...nothing else seems important. It’s terrifying.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Stan repeated. “I’ll take care of steering the ship for a bit.” He moved out of the cabin and onto the deck, patting his brother on the shoulder reassuringly on the way out.

Adeline was leaning over the side of the ship again, near the helm. “Is my pet going to go to sleep?”

“Probably, since you woke him up in the middle of the night. Again.” Stan frowned at her disapprovingly.

Adeline swung herself up to sit on the railing. Instead of the octopus lower half, she had the fish tail that Stan had been expecting to see the first time. “Good. Because I told him to go sleep. I like having him awake when he’s with me.”

Stan grumbled something under his breath that caused the siren to frown. She flicked her tail at him, causing water to sprinkle against his face. He didn’t give her even the slightest hint of a reaction.

She’d done that every few days for the last few weeks; it wasn’t hard to get used to something Stan had grown to expect.

“You’re lucky I’m here to protect my pet,” Adeline said pointedly. “There was a small kraken here last night who wanted to make a snack out of your boat.”

“Uh huh.” Stan double-checked the instruments around the helm. Good weather, good wind, and nothing was being picked up on the sonar. Course, a big thing would end up appearing there later, but Stan was expecting that -- the siren had to go back underwater sometime, and she hadn’t shown that she could grow a pair of legs to stay on the ship.

Not yet, anyway. If she could change from octopus tentacles to a mer tail, she could probably walk around like a human, too.

“I’ll be expecting a thank-you later.”

“Uh huh. Right.”

Stan felt more water get flicked at him. “I mean it, human.”

“Did you really think we wouldn’t have been able to handle that thing on our own?” Stan turned and gave Adeline a pointed look. “My brother’s survived for thirty years fighting off monsters in other dimensions; I spent ten evading the mafia and avoiding getting killed here on land. We’re two grown men who can handle ourselves.”

Adeline frowned at that. “That I find hard to believe.”

“Well, it’s the truth.” Stan turned back to the wheel. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a brother ta get home so that we can reverse whatever ya did to him.”

He was half-expecting the siren to answer, but when he heard the splash off the side of the ship instead, a satisfied grin crossed his face.

Just a few more hours, and they’d be able to get to Gravity Falls and see about fixing Ford’s head.

Time Break

Ford knew there was more going on than just the siren’s song constantly running through the back of his mind. When he woke up hours after breakfast, he felt a strange need to be petted that instantly sent a wave of alarm through him.

Adeline’s spell was working its way into the times when he was aware, and if they didn’t do something about it before it became too late--

Ford shook the thought out of his head and pushed himself out of his bunk. It was something that he would have to discuss with Stan and the others, when they were safely back on land and back in the Mystery Shack.

The thought of solid ground under his feet shouldn’t have caused the chill of worry to run down his spine like it did; some part of his mind silently begged him to stay at sea, to let the rocking waves soothe him.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, back to the music it had originated from, and made his way out onto the deck.

Stan was alone on deck, standing at the helm. He looked back as Ford approached. “Glad to see you up. I was about ta go in there and wake you up myself when we hit port.”

Ford grunted in response, looking up and down the coast. The song at the back of his mind tried to make him feel uneasy, but he pushed it out of his focus.

“I hope you didn’t think I was going to sleep the day away,” Ford said instead.

“Well, that siren chick said she was gonna make ya sleep; she just didn’t say fer how long.”

“At least I’m able to choose when I want to wake up.” Ford frowned at the sea disapprovingly, and when the song strengthened in his mind, he shuddered.

“Hey. You feelin’ okay?”

Ford pulled back from the railing a couple steps. “I think there’s more going on in my mind than just what she said.”

Stan looked over at his brother worriedly. “Still think we can find that reversal?”

“I should hope so.”

Stan frowned at Ford’s comment, but he said nothing as he brought them up to the docks they were approaching. Three familiar figures were already standing there waiting for their ship to pull up.

Ford dropped the anchor as Stan threw the ropes down and leapt off the side of the ship; only after tying the ship down did Dipper and Mabel leap at Stan for a hug as Ford leaned over the railing on the ship, contemplating leaping off onto solid ground.

The song at the back of his mind once again tried to make him feel uneasy about the idea, but he ignored it in favor of reaching his niblings and leapt off himself.

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper instantly ran to him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“As...as well as I can be,” Ford replied carefully. He heard a splash somewhere on the other side of the ship and fought to ignore it.

Dipper noticed Ford turn his head slightly at the sound; he took his grunkle’s hand and practically dragged him to the car -- Stan’s old Diablo. It looked like it had been fixed up. “Come on; we can talk about getting that stuff out of your head.”

“An excell--”

Ford winced as the song suddenly went discordant as he left the dock and got onto more solid ground. He gritted his teeth, a part of him wanting to move back and dive into the ocean just so that he could get the damn noise to shut up.

He felt someone push him from behind as he was forced into the back of the Diablo; Stan sat on one side and Dipper on the other as Mabel climbed up into the front next to Soos.

Ford clapped his hands over his ears and gritted his teeth as Stan kept a tight grip on him; the further they moved from the ocean, the more discordant it became; he found himself unable to think other than needtogetbacktotheseaneedtogetbacktotheseaneedtogetbacktothesea--

And then suddenly the discordant sounds stopped, and it settled back into the siren’s song he was used to hearing as Ford came back to his senses with a gasp.

“Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked, hesitant.

“She’s following us,” Ford said.

Stan stiffened. “You have got to be kidding me. How do you--”

“It doesn’t sound like nails screeching on a chalkboard in here anymore.” Ford pointed at his head. “And I don’t feel like I need to punch and kick my way out of this car to get back to shore.”

The others stared at him.

Mabel chuckled nervously. “Um. O-okay. Grunkle Ford, when Grunkle Stan said you were met and hypnotized by a siren, I didn’t think this would happen.”

Ford sighed irritably, rubbing his temples. “I should have expected something similar. Being dragged underwater and drowned or something similar, yes, but not being considered a pet with a mental leash attached to the sea.” There was a growling rumble in his voice.

“You said the siren’s name was Adeline?” Dipper was paging through a book he’d pulled from his vest.

Ford felt a shudder run down his spine at the name. “Yes.”

“Mermando said she was a recluse who saw humans as creatures that didn’t know what they were doing.” Dipper looked up. “The fact that she’s following us kinda goes against her usual MO.”

“Considering she seems pretty attached to Ford, I think that she just wants him back,” Stan said flatly. “So we gotta get this song outta Ford’s head before it does who knows what else to him other than turn him into a pile of putty every time she shows up.”

Ford didn’t look too happy at the comparison; he sighed irritably instead.

Mabel and Dipper exchanged worried looks.

“That doesn’t sound good, doods,” Soos said. “Hey -- you think this siren is gonna need water sometime?”

“They can’t live outside of water for long, so yeah,” Dipper replied. “She’s basically like an amphibian, but...more fish-y.”

“And human-y,” Mabel added.

“Yeah.”

“So, hypothetically, she could follow the river backwards up the coast to the lake in Gravity Falls?”

Ford heard the song in his head change key.

“I think that’s more than likely,” Ford muttered.

The others looked at Ford again.

“Lock Ford in the basement when we get back to the house?” Soos asked.

“Yup,” the others in the car responded at once.

Ford sighed. “So long as we can get this song out of my head, that’s fine. But we need this spell reversed, or else….”

“Or else?” Dipper repeated nervously.

Ford swallowed. “Or else even without Adeline nearby, I fear her enchantment may overtake me completely.”

The fact that Ford had just admitted Ford was afraid made the tension in the car increase tenfold.

“We’ll figure this out, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel exclaimed with determination. “We beat a dream demon last summer who set off the apocalypse, we can get this fixed too!”

Ford really hoped that they would be able to. Because otherwise, things could end up getting far worse.