#you learned that nothing lasts forever when your dad was murdered when you were nine years old.

[passi0np1t]

AIGHT OKAY SO LIKE

i always loved the idea of eddie meeting his s/o via live streams, maybe theyre just checking it out until they respond to him and he goes "oh? Crush?" And basically talks to them everyday until he gets caught and they learn who he really is

ohoho i love this concept, haven’t seen anything like it on tumblr yet. i gotchu x

Curiosity

(The Riddler)

Summary: In which the gn reader lets their curiosity get the better of them as they make their way into a Riddler stream, and they don’t go unnoticed

Warnings: None! P tame

Notes: Ok so I lied, here’s half of a new mini series, there is defs gonna b a part two

—

You recall a saying your grandma always used to tell you as a child when she’d find you in trouble, “Curiosity killed the cat”. And maybe she was right about that. Or maybe grandma just needed to learn to live a little. Cats have nine lives after all.

Since the murder of Gotham City's mayor, his killer has been the talk of the town, especially among the poor and common folk of the city. Some are down bad and some are against the violence. And some, like you, don’t know what to think. On one hand: violence is never the answer, but on the other: when violence doesn’t answer to peace nor peace to violence, then sometimes you just have to beat them at their own game. You think you can understand that, appreciate the desperation even. This appreciation is how you find yourself in the situation that you’re in now.

You’re sitting amongst the crinkled sheets of your unmade bed, laptop resting on your thighs and fingers hovering above the keyboard. It’s taken a few long days of impersonators and dead ends to finally find the real deal, and now that you have the killer's actual website before you, you’ve got chills. It’s only a bit of curiosity, some mindless sort of investigation, you tell yourself assuringly. You’re trying to occupy your time in between gruelling shifts at work, and then the few hours of social life you manage to squeeze in on your days off. This is the fruit of your labour.

There’s a countdown for his next stream, the glitching text flashing across the screen as 10 minutes tick away. It feels like forever though, you have to do something else to occupy your time; boredom is the enemy. You click open a game of solitaire, though honestly, you never bothered to learn how to properly play or even understand the game. Though, you do remember watching your dad while away his free time competing against a computer-generated opponent, and sometimes even a few of his childhood friends — if they would have the guts to brave a stay in Gotham — that is.

You start your game, gathering your aces to start up your foundation piles. There’s only the sound of incessant clicking and your exhales as you work, your stacks building. When you run out of face-up cards, you pause, racking your brain for the next step, but you come up with nothing. Accepting defeat is easy in this case as you click the ‘?’ button and hints pop up on your screen. You need to start picking up cards from your face-down pile. You find yourself bored if it all quickly though. Solitaire has never been an engaging game for you, maybe if you were middle-aged and beaten down more by capitalism, but that day is not today.

You slide your fingers across the touchpad mouse and it zips up the screen to your open tabs, switching you back to the Riddler’s website. The grainy green numbers a stark contrast against the otherwise black screen as the last minute begins to count down. You wait in suspense and it occurs to you that you probably need a hobby. Then you remember that you do have hobbies, things you used to be able to enjoy more often before adulthood and full-time work. You’d gladly be cooking or knitting or painting if you had the time and the energy, you tut at yourself, that little voice of reason in the back of your head should shut up. Maybe a few years ago you would’ve listened to it but you feel a touch too bitter for that now. Though maybe you are becoming like your dad, this new Riddler enigma is your solitaire. Before you can get too deep, the screen in front of you goes black, dragging you away from psychoanalysing yourself for the time being. It’s stays like that, just blank, and for a second you worry your laptops gone flat, and then the screen crackles to life again.

Sounds of laptop keys clicking fill your room as a green text emerges, one letter at a time: ‘i am first on earth and second in heaven and appear twice per week. what am i?’.

A riddle. Of course, it couldn’t just be easy. You re-read it to yourself a few times, speaking aloud as you attempt to connect the dots, “First on earth, second in heaven…” As you analyse the words you realise, “E! First in ‘earth’ and second in ‘heaven’. E appears twice per week on Tuesday and Wednesday…” You input the answer with a half-grin, watching as more little green letters appear.

‘smarty…’

‘if you know me, you’ll want to share me. if you share me, i’ll be gone forever. what am i?’

You go through the same process as you did the first riddle, though this one takes you a little longer, you eventually come to a half-hearted conclusion, ‘a secret’.

It must be right because more little letters appear, ‘can you keep a secret?’ and underneath it ‘Y/N’. You click the bold ‘Y’ without hesitation, eyes glued to the screen as the game continues.

‘we’ll see…’

‘last one, what belongs to you but others will use it?’

You know this one, you’ve heard it before and you type up your answer quickly, ‘your name’. Correct again. You feel a certain hesitant pride at being able to guess his riddles, though he hasn’t made them particularly hard for you. You watch as yet again, more green letters appear, no riddles this time, just a simple question: ‘what should i call you?’ You feel like you’ve made it through some sort of initiation ritual as you gingerly begin to type out a pseudonym: ‘curiouscat’. It’s kind of cheesy but the nickname makes you smile a bit.

The screen fades to black, accepting your answer, and then finally, he appears. He’s a little grainy, cast in dim white lighting from an unknown source off-screen. He’s in his full get-up, still as stone but his other viewers are eating it up regardless as subtle flashes of text on the top left of the screen notify you of people’s donations. On the right third of the screen is the viewer's chat. There are only about 29 of you so far but you can see the numbers rising now and then, stopping at a fixed 47 after a few minutes. This takes you by surprise, you thought that there’d be many more, and for a moment you start to doubt the man before you, and then he begins. He stirs to life, cocking his head to the side, it looks like he’s reading the chat, light eyes darting up and down his screen behind clear-rimmed glasses as his heavy breaths filter out from his mask.

“Thank you for all the donations,” his gaze flicks back to the middle of his screen, “And welcome to some of our new viewers, it seems not everyone in Gotham is as stupid as I thought.”

Your eyes widen a bit at this, nerves prickling at the nape of your neck. He isn’t addressing you directly or anything but it feels weird having him acknowledge your presence. Then your relief and slight disappointment, he moves on, discussing the mayor's murder with a grim delight. His voice is deep and scratchy as it infiltrates the otherwise stark quiet of your room. It’s late and most should be asleep by now but you know how sound travels in your apartment building, so you fetch your earphones from your nightstand, plugging them in and shoving the buds into your ears.

“-loween night, I killed the mayor because he was not who he pretended to be. But I am not done.” The chat blows up at this but he doesn’t yield, any info on his next victim kept tightly under wraps as his viewers begin to discuss the mayor's death with feverish excitement.

You quickly conclude that his viewers are crazy, but also kind of funny. You wonder if you know any of them personally, if you’ve ever sat beside them on the subway or ordered your morning coffee and muffin from them. They could be anyone, the anonymity is exciting and freeing and altogether dangerous.

DData_Drag0n: can i put a hit on my boss

xXhushXx: lmao he isn’t a hitman

tr0ubleboi: i rlly liked the severed thumb, was a nice touch

xAstroCrabx: r4dioh3ad im in your walls

C10ckbreak3r: so who do we reckon the next unfortunate pig is

With the latest comment you begin to type out a reply, you’ve done a fair bit of investigating yourself — albeit light — and you’ve narrowed down the Riddler’s next victim into two categories.

curiouscat: well it’s probably a cop, right?

curiouscat: or a rich socialite but that seems unlikely atm

DData_Drag0n: oh hey newbie

C10ckbreak3r: ok smarty pants y do u think that

G0THAMSUX: are you a girl

You sit back and think for a moment, planning your next move as you watch the replies flood in. It’s not that you don’t know what you’re talking about but you are new here and they’re all for the most part giving Redditor incel. You’ve been ganged up on and doxxed by sad old men a few too many times on forums and chats and you aren’t planning on letting that happen again. Not this time. Not in front of the Riddler in a chat full of serial killer fanatics.

curiouscat: the mayor seemed close to some of the police force

curiouscat: when you think of the most corrupt groups in society it’s usually cops and politicians right? and ridding gotham of corruption is the riddler’s m.o soooo

DData_Drag0n: they’re speaking facts suck shit c10ck

C10ckbreak3r: alright fine lmao

r4dioh3ad: cat how do u know so much hm

r4dioh3ad: methinks ur a mole

xAstroCrabx: lmfao radio, not every new person is a rat stop gatekeeping the riddler

You notice that the Riddler is reading the chat along with you all, not making a sound besides his heavy sighs, but you can sense a hint of curiosity behind the frame of his glasses and you smile a little to yourself.

What you don’t know is that you’ve caught his attention. He watches you converse with the others with a quiet interest, observing you pave the way and figure out his next moves while the others squabble amongst themselves.

He won’t say his fans are dumb, every time he’s streamed they’ve managed to get past his riddles and they’re full of handy tips for weapons and tactics. More importantly, they understand him and his mission. They’re there for him to bounce his ideas off of and plan out his next moves. Hell, they pay him even when all he does is sit there and breathe. But they squabble. They have no idea. And he likes that, keeping them all on their toes, giving them just enough to keep them excited. Also, it’s better he not just come straight out with everything, who knows who’s behind these silly little usernames, he doesn’t need his plans foiled just to make a few people happy. So he supposes he should just ban you, you, you who knows too much too soon. Who are you?

He can’t bring himself to do it, even as his mouse lingers over the ban button, circling it helplessly. He knows he should but he doesn’t want to. You’re like a breath of fresh air, he doesn’t even know you but god he fucking wants to. He wants to know what you know and how. The burning curiosity begins to eat him up, gnawing at his insides and he knows he has to end the live stream early.

He waves farewell to everyone, only laughing dryly when his fans begin to pour out with last-minute questions and beg for hints that he ignores. He stares straight through the camera and it feels like he’s looking directly into your soul as the screen goes black.

You let go of the air you’ve been holding in your lungs, relief and a small sense of accomplishment filling your body with warmth. Almost a full week of searching and you finally found the Riddler, made it through one of his streams even. Though you’re not sure if you’ll be back for the next one, for now, your curiosity feels quenched. You pause in this train of thought as a yawn overtakes you, screwing your eyes shut and stretching out a bit from your stiff position in your nest of a bed. God it must be early in the a.m. by now and you have work and chores and good knows what else to do. You hate your life sometimes. Most of the time. Or maybe you’re just sleep-deprived and bored again.

You blink a few times as you think bitterly to yourself and when you fully open your eyes you find some little green text waiting for you on the black screen. Perplexed, you sit up straight again, pulling the laptop onto your thighs once more as you read it aloud to yourself, “who are you?” The question mark blinks up at you as it waits for a reply.

“Surely it’s not asking for my real name?” You ask your empty room, voice soft and a little croaky from lack of sleep. You suppose you could just leave it, shut your laptop down and never go on a Riddler live stream again, but your curiosity always gets the better of you and you type in your pseudonym, ‘curiouscat’.

Almost immediately, more letters begin to appear, backspacing on typos before settling on ‘you know that’s not what i mean’.

As you read the reply aloud to yourself you feel as if all the colour has drained from your cheeks, feverishly typing out your response, ‘who am i talking to?’ But you already know the answer to that. There’s no way you caught his attention with your few minutes of chat, the possibility of it feels thrilling and treacherous all in one.

You try to wrack your brain for what possibly could’ve hooked his interest, and then you suppose he probably didn’t like you guessing at his next victim, meaning you probably got it right. A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as he types out his reply.

‘don’t ask silly questions. you seem smarter than that’

You scoff, typing away your reply as you shove away the alarm bells of reason ringing in the back of your head, ‘says the serial killer asking for my real name’ and then ‘are you mad that i guessed your next victim?’ He at the very least definitely hadn’t been expecting it, he seems to like watching his followers scramble around in the chat.

His replies are quick, though riddled with typos that he has to keep going over. You try to imagine him hunched over his computer, breath heavy as the pads of his fingers slap against his keyboard, typing in some frenetic haze as he awaits your replies, ‘not mad, just curious’.

You laugh as he sets himself up for a perfect comeback, teasing men who think they’re so big and bad has always been a favourite of yours. You wonder if he’ll ban you if you push him too far and the outcome seems likely but you suppose it’s for the best, ‘well, curiosity killed the cat’

His reply is instantaneous, like a desperate man hoping to get in the last word, green letters form together to string a simple reply, ‘but satisfaction brought it back :)’

[chaoticdisater]

Red white & royal Blue Favourite quotes

“How many times do I have to tell Y’all not to discuss your murder plots in front of a sitting president” their mother interrupts “Plausible deniability. Come on” (Pg 64) 

I don't know WHO you think you're kidding, you Hufflepuff-ass bitch, (Alex to henry over text pg 69) 

“‘put the turkeys in my room’  ‘No.’ ‘put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room -’  later that night as Alex stares into the cold pitiless eyes of a prehistoric beast of prey, he has a few regrets” (Alex and his mother Pg 76) 

“’he- Oi! Not for you Mr.wobbles! those are mine!’ more rustling and a distant offended Meow, ‘no, Mr. wobbles you bastard!’” (Henry at his sister's cat, pg 80) 

“Dec 8, 2019, 8:53 PM  yo there's a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe HRH prince Dickhead  I BEG YOU TO NOT “ (Henry and Alex over text Pg 84) 

“’ the options Id like...’ he says dragging the words out. ‘they don't quite seem to be options at all’” (Henry Pg 107) 

“’ christ you're a thick as it gets’ he says and he grabs Alex's face in both hands and kisses him.” (Henry Pg 107) 

“‘Seventy-eight percent probability of latent Bi-sexual tendencies. one hundred percent probability this is not a hypothetical question’” (Nora pg 118) 

“‘am I? do you think I'm Bi?’  ‘I can't tell you that Alex!’ she says ‘that's the whole point!’” (Alex and Nora Pg121)

“she slants a look at him ‘is this a diabolical scheme of seduction?’ she asks ‘if so, yes.’“ (Nora Pg 130) 

“Alex knocks the candelabra off the table next to them and pushes henry onto it so hes sitting with his back against - Alex looks up and almost breaks into a deranged laugh - a portrait of alexander hamilton.” (Pg 132) 

“‘im going to die’ henry says helplessly.  ‘im going to kill you,’ Alex tells him.” (Henry and Alex pg 133) 

‘”and if you fucking ghost me again, I'm going to get you put on a fucking no-fly list. got it’” (Alex at henry pg 134) 

“worst of all, Henry is good“ (Alex's thoughts on henry playing Polo Pg 147) 

“’I’m gonna go, Uh’ Alex says ‘say hi to henry’ Amy's mouth settles into a grim line ‘Please don't elaborate’ ‘Yeah I know’ Alex says ‘plausible deniability’” (Alex and Amy Pg 148) 

‘A <agcd@eclare45.com>  to Henry  his royal highness prince of whatever,  Don't make me learn your actual title’ (Alex’s email to henry Pg 152) 

‘Henry <hwales@kensingtonemail.com>  to A Alex, first son of inappropriately timed Emails when I’m in early morning meetings’ (Henry’s email to Alex Pg 155) 

“when he shows up to a briefing two days later Zahra grabs his jaw with one hand and turns his head, peering closer at the side of his neck. ‘is that a Hickey’ Alex freezes. ‘I . . . um, no?’” (Zahra and Alex pg 162) 

“‘Do you have a last name?’ Alex has never actually offered a greeting when calling Henry  ‘What?’ the usual bemused elongated one-syllable response” (163 Alex and henry over the phone) 

“‘Baby’ its become a thing: Baby he knows it’s become a thing. hes slipped up and accidentally said it a few times, and each time, Henry positively melts” (Alex Pg 166) 

“‘I miss you,’ Alex says before he can stop himself he instantly regrets ut but henry says. ‘I miss you too’” (pg 173) 

“she flung her arm out emphatically enough to upset an entire potted cactus on her dresser and says ‘Because until now you weren't fucking the prince of England’” (June pg 177)  

“‘you should try saying some of that stuff to Him’  ‘stop trying to Jane Austen my life’” (June and Alex Pg 180) 

“’ is now a good time to point out henrys very hot Very rich best friend is basically in love with you?’ Alex says to June ‘hes like some kind of billionaire genius manic-pixie-dream philanthropist. I feel like you would be into that.’ ‘Please shut up,’” (Alex and June Pg 182)  

“‘yes, yes, Pez, we know there's nothing you cant do,’ says henrys voice off-camera ‘no need to rub it in’“ (henry Pg 184) 

“‘oh I haven't had vodka since uni,’ henry says ‘it tends to make me erm, well-’ ‘flamboyant?’ Pez offers. ‘uninhibited? randy?’  ‘Fun?’ Bea suggests  ‘Excuses you, I am loads of fun all the time! I am a Delight’“ (Henry Bea and Pez pg 190)

“’yes Beatrice, we shall behave in a manner befitting the crown,’ henry says. his eyes are slightly crossed ‘don't be a tosser’“ (Henry and bea Pg 195) 

“He likes taking henry apart but there's something incredibly intantament about sitting on the bed they wrecked the night before, the only one who watches him create Prince Henry of Wales for the day.” (Pg 200) 

“‘So this is the gang now, huh?’  and through it all, Alex realizes with a start: he has friends now.” (Cash pg 201) 

“How is a man to get anything done knowing Alex Claremont-Diaz is out there on the loose?” (Henrys email to Alex pg 203) 

“yours in sexual frustration  Henry” (henrys email to Alex pg 206) 

“once again, how had he ever convinced himself he was straight,” (Alex pg 213) 

“‘just so we’re clear,’ Alex said ‘Im about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family. Like that's what's happening?’“ (Alex pg 217) 

“your Brave I could use some of that” (Pg 218) 

“Because that's what he would do if he were here in this palace to fall in love Henry” (Pg 220) 

“Zahra doesnt even look up from her phone ‘that was my boyfriend and no, you may not ask me any further questions about him’” (Zahra Pg 223) 

“If he’s some anonymous normal person removed from history he’s twenty-two and he’s tipsy and he’s pulling a guy into his hotel room by the belt loop. He’s pulling a lip between his teeth and he fumbling behind his back to switch on a lamp and he’s thinking I like this person”  (Pg 228)

“You still are. Because you still bloody care so much.” He leans down and presses a kiss into Alex’s hair. “And you are good. Most things are awful most of the time but you’re good” (Henry Pg 230)

“’Seriously?’ She hisses ‘your literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state who is a man at the biggest political event before the election in a hotel full of reporters in a city full of cameras in a race close enough to fucking hinge on some bullshit like this like a manifestation of my fucking stress dreams and you’re asking me not to tell the president about it?’” (Zarha pg 233)

“The next slide is titled EXPLORING YOUR SEXUALITY: HEALTHY BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITH THE PRINCE ENGLAND? she apologizes for not having time to come up with better titles Alex activity wishes for the sweet release of death” (Pg 237)

“History huh? I bet we could make some.” (Alex’s email to henry Pg 241)

“The pair of you share and an alarming number of traits by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c,” (herny’s email to Alex Pg 242)

“Regards Haplessly romantic heretic prince henry the utterly daft” (henrys email to Alex pg 243)

“‘It’s math,’ Nora says ‘Math has no authority here,’ June tells her ‘Math is everywhere June’” (Nora and June Pg 247)

“Henry is tipsy and shirtless and attempting to referee” (pg 252)

“’Some times you just jump and hope it’s not a chiff’” (Alex dad Pg 256)

“Well, Alex is so in love he could die.” (Pg 257)

“He’s been falling in love with Henry for years probably since he first saw him in glossy print on the pages of j14 almost definitely since Henry pinned Alex to the floor of a medical supply closet and told him to shut the hell up.” (Pg 257)

“’Fuck off five nine is average’” (Pg 258)

“’H?’ He whispers ‘you awake?’ Henry sighs ‘always.’” ( Pg 260)

“He’s got a distinct feeling of something being pulled out of his hands right before he could grasp it.” (Pg 263)

“something rises in Alex's throat - anger, confusion, hurt, bile. Unforgivably, he feels like he might cry” (Pg 270) 

“’Fuck I swear you don’t make it fucking easy but I’m in love with you’” (Alex Pg 271)

“’I never thought I’d be stood here faced with a choice I can’t make because I never ... I never imagined you would love me back’” (Henry pg 273)

“He’s in Henry’s face now if he’s getting his heart broken tonight he’s sure as hell going to make Henry have the guts to do it right ‘tell me you're done with me. I’ll get back on the plane. that's it. and you can live here in your tower and be miserable forever, write a whole book of sad fucking poems about it, whatever just say it’” (274)

“He’s in stupid unbearable love and Henry loves him too and at least for one night it matters, even if they both have to pretend to forget in the morning” (Pg 275)

“He tells his too fast brain: don’t miss this time he’s too important” (Alexs thoughts Pg 275)

“henry’s hands-on him are unhurried and soft and they make out lazily for hours or days.” (Pg 280) 

“Alex sighs ‘i don't think I told you but she uh. well, when she fired me she told me that if I wasn't a thousand percent serious about you. I need to break things off.’  Henry nuzzles his nose behind Alex's ear ‘a thousand percent?’” (Alex and Henry Pg 282) 

“‘Diaz you insane hopeless romantic little shit’ says the voice of the president of the united states, muffled in the bed ‘it had better be forever. Be safe’“ (Pg 284) 

“hes cut off mid-sentence because Alex has stopped in the middle of the corridor and yanked him backwards into a kiss” (pg 286) 

“’its funny’ henry says ‘i always thought of the whole thing as the most unforgivable thing about me but you act like its one of the best’“ (henry Pg 289) 

“he takes the chain off his neck and slides the ring on next to the old house key. they click together gently as he tucks them both under his shirt, two homes side by side” (Pg 291) 

“I opened my blasted mouth and said ‘because I'm not like the rest of the men in this family beginning with the fact that I'm am very deeply gay Philip’  once shaan managed to dislodge him from the chandelier Philip had quite a few words for me,” (Henry’s emails to Alex Pg 298) 

“just leaving, not coming back. maybe burning something down on the way out. it would be nice.” (henrys emails to Alex pg 299)

“I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire” (henrys emails to Alex (describing how he felt when he first saw Alex) Pg 300) 

“20. the fact that you have loved me all along.” (alex’s email to henry (the list of things alex loves about henry) Pg 303) 

“‘Oh my god Z what is That? did you get engaged?’  Zahra looks down at the ring and shrugs. ‘i had the week-end off’” (June and Zahra pg 305)

“’you and me and history, remember? were just gonna fucking fight. because your it okay? Im never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you,’“ (Alex pg 312) 

“‘I swear to god if you say I'm too young I'm gonna lose my shit,’“ (Alex pg 315) 

“What did he do ‘be more specific’“ (Alex to Zahra pg 321 ) 

“’the president is sitting down with as many members of the office of communitcs we could drag out of bed at three in the morning’” (Zahra Pg 323) 

“‘pack a bag’ she says ‘we’re going to londan’” (Zahra Pg 334)

“she (Zarha) seems confident Shaan will agree to it and willing to physically overpower him if not.” (pg 334) 

“still the cocky shit head part of him is slightly pleased to finally have claim on henry. Yep, the prince? Most eligible bachelor in the world? British accent face like a greek god, legs for days? Mine” (Pg 336) 

“‘youre giving my ulcer an ulcer’“ (Zahra pg 336) 

“‘Im running on nothing but black coffee, a wetzels pretzel, and a fistful of B12. Do not even breathe in my directrion,’“ (Zahra Pg 339) 

“He leans up and kisses the underside of his jaw, finding it rough from a full fitful day,” (pg 340)

“‘What kind of family, that says we’ll take the murder, we’ll take the raping and pillaging and the colonizing, well scrub it up nice and neat in a museum but oh no you’re a bloody poof? That’s beyond our sense of decorum’” (Henry pg 347)

“Bea seizes the pot of tea from the center of the table and dumps it into his lap ‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry Pip’ she says grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him sputtering and yelping toward the door ‘so deardfully clumsy, you know I think all that cocaine I did must have really done a job on my refexes!’” (Bea pg 357)

“Henry pulls Alex close and kisses him whispers, ‘I love you I love you I love you’ and it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees.” (Pg 358)

And that’s when I gave up I do have more but well I didn’t want to make this list any more

[thecurseoflife]

CHAPTER 11 - The Snuggly Duckling

They had been walking silently for hours. Varian was still leading the way, and the table stand was surprisingly holding up quite well. Not half of it had been consumed by fire yet. Camalia was following him, deep in her thoughts. She took out of one of her pocket the pages she wrote on while she was in crisis. It was messy, but readable. Camalia had a couple of blank pages left. She took out the burn shard she used to write and started filling a page. It was kind of hard while walking but she didn't care. The list was clear enough. It would do. Once she was satisfied, she put everything back in her pocket and... violently hit Varian's back.

-OW !

She fell on her butt and rubbed her nose. Why did he stop like that ? She looked over. The small gallery finally ended and seemed to join a way bigger one. It had timbers to hold it up and even some torches that weren't lit. It was just a bigger gallery. But the alchemist seemed frozen. Camalia got back up and landed a hand on his shoulder. The contact seemed to get him back to reality.

-Varian, are you ok ?

He shook her hand of his shoulder and continued to move forward.

-Yes, I'm fine. Let's keep moving.

Camalia looked hurt, but the alchemist couldn't see it. And even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. The music mage took a deep breath, yet again. It was going to be okay. She handled two giant black snakes for ten years, she should be able to deal with a moody teenager. Hopefully.

They took one of the torch on the wall and lighted it up with the table stand before leaving the burned wood where they stood.

And they resumed to silently following the path. The girl didn't want to bother Varian with this, but her feet were seriously starting to hurt. After all, being bare foot in a tunnel filled with pointy rocks and walking on them for hours wasn't really the best idea. Every steps was starting to feel like torture. She couldn't wait to be outside and to walk on sweet, soft grass. Or at least on a paved path. Anywhere, really than underground with an angry Varian, hurt feet and a dying torch.

After what felt like eternity to Camalia's poor feet, they finally saw a way out. They had to climb a ladder to get to it, but the light shining through the hatch wasn't lying.

Varian pushed the trapdoor. It was placed in the giant hole of a tree, in the middle of the forest. When they closed it after being out, they noticed it had a weird duckling painting on it. As soon as they were outside, Camalia jumped in a pool of water with a relieved scream. She fell on her back and started doing an angel in the green healthy grass while chuckling like an idiot. For the first time in forever, she was outside during daylight, without having to hide or go straight to somewhere. She felt free. Once her feet felt better, she happily ran around enjoying the feel of every kind of ground she met under her toes. When Varian saw that it might take a while to keep moving, and that they needed a break anyway, he sat on one of the root of the hole tree and waited, watching his totally former friend enjoying herself.

There was no friendship anymore, just two people trying to save a dad from a magical amber. It was the only reason he was with her anyway. His only purpose : freeing his dad. Those thoughts were swerling in the alchemist's head as he was calmly waiting and watching Camalia climbing a tree with a very discreet smile.

Moments later, when the music mage was finally tired out and plopped beside Varian, he had a pretty good idea what they should be doing next. He decided that it was worth it to expose his plan to her.

-First of all, we have to avoid frequently used roads, stay in the forests where we can easily hide and get to my house as fast as possible. Let's avoid any distractions, just... Getting to Old Corona.

-Get to your house ? Why ?

Varian slapped himself in his mind. With all that had been going on, he didn't even mention to Camalia what he wanted her to do. He looked straight in her eyes.

-I think you could be able to free my dad.

Camalia was caught off guard. She genuinely expected him to say something like "we need to hide". She opened her mouth but the information hadn't been completely registered yet. Resulting on a very stupid position. When she finally finished processing what just happened, she reacted.

-Okay, hum. What. Why should I be the one to be able to break the unbreakable amber ?

Varian rolled his eyes, a little bit annoyed she wasn't putting it together when it was so obvious.

-You're a powerful music mage, and if the princess' hair didn't work, you're my last chance on the magic side. But since the amber is technically magic too, I think science and alchemy can't work on it. So you're my last, last chance.

-I- Okay. Okay. Yeah okay, I-hum... I'll try. I hope it'll work but... Varian ? You have to prepare yourself in case it doesn't.

The boy got up, storm in his eyes.

-I know what to do. You don't have to tell me, thanks.

-I was just concerned-

-Well don't. Let's keep moving.

They walked on a rocky and unused path for several minutes, and yet again, silence was rulling. Camalia was getting tired of the sound of their steps, and even if the chip of birds and the wind in the trees were beautiful sounds, they were all obliterated by the girl's discomfort. She wanted to make things right between Varian and her. So, she tried to talk.

-So, uh... Where's Ruddiger, anyway ?

-I left him home to watch over Dad since he's obviously the only one I can trust.

He looked at her with anger, trying to make her feel even more guilty. Camalia was baffled by how much the alchemist wasn't letting this go.

-Oh, come on Varian ! Are you going to be mad at me forever ? We had a bonding moment at the prison ! Does that mean nothing to you ?!

Varian brutally stopped and turned around.

-I have all the right in the world to be upset. And if I am going to be mad at you forever, deal with it. I am not going to apologize for something I didn't do. The only reason you're here right now is because I need you in order to free my dad. There's nothing else. And believe me, if there was any other music mages around here, even a big and scary one, I would gladly trade him over you.

As Varian resumed to walking, Camalia didn't. His words hurted. They hurted bad. Those words and all of those before. And Captain words, and the snakes' and all of this pain and everything she had buried deep inside of her, all her feelings suddenly crawled up to the surface and the girl exploded.

-I was scared, ok ?! I was scared that if I told you everything, maybe the curse would pass on to you or something ! I never experienced ANY of this. Relationship, friendship, the-the world, the unspoken codes of behaving well, all of this is NEW. I have only read about those in books. You are my first friend, Varian, so of course I make mistakes, and I mess up bad. I was raised by BOOKS and murderous giant snakes, for the king's sake, OF COURSE I am disturbed and I make bad decisions ! I mean, come on, Witheria used to throw me against a WALL when I was diserespectful ! So yes, I am sorry, I am deeply sorry, and I totally fully understood that honesty is super important in friendship, but PLEASE, try to see things from my perspective !

The alchemist had stopped again, and was staring at Camalia with deep surprise. She tried to get rid of the tears running down her cheeks but she only made it more of a mess.

-The only other person that could be more or less perceived as a friend would be Captain ! And I can assure you he's not a great reference, especially when you're a prisonner. And should I remember to you, Varian, that ten years before knowing you I made the decision to lock myself up in jail for the rest of my life ! I didn't even learn that we weren't supposed to eat with the mouth open before I was like, nine years old ! I am the queen of bad decisions ! And I should really stop yelling at you, I am so sorry, I am not even in the place to be angry at you right now. I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you, I can handle this. I-Sorry, I'll just, shut up and uh... Yeah.

Camalia was awkwardly standing there, trying to wipe out the droplets, and avoiding the boy's look. She had small hiccups and bright red cheeks. For once, she really looked like a lost, confused and scared child. For once, she looked like how she felt inside. Varian opened his mouth, a bit shook by the flow of words, but the music mage cut him.

-And if you want to know everything I know, if you want to know the truth, I'll tell you. With no lying, no nothing. Okay ?

He nodded silently as she walked past him. He could hear her sniff in front of him, and it made him really uncomfortable. He still knew he was right, but maybe he went too far this time. And it wasn't true after all. Between a scary and unknown powerful music mage and sweet and messed up Camalia, he would obviously pick the girl.

-Listen-

They both spoke at the same time. The two former friends looked at eachother with surprise and let out a small giggle.

-Go ahead, Camalia.

-Listen, Varian. I didn't mean to scream at you and I shouldn't have. It's just that... Everything is so... New and overwhelming. I am out and I-I can actually live for the first time in ten years, and I am free from the curse, and I... I am just really, really sorry for lying to you. I know I am repeating myself but I... I really am. I am just a terrible friend.

Varian took the time to organize his thoughts. He was about to speak when they both heard something. Some kind of muffled voices, near them. Camalia looked behind a tree and gasped. There was a tavern, with the exact same symbol than the one on the hatch. The music mage turned an excited look to Varian.

-We should go !

-What- No ! We said no distractions ! Straight to my house !

-Yeah, but I'm hungry, you're hungry, we're both tired, and there is a place that could give us rest and food just there ! It would be a shame to miss it. Plus, there's the duck thing, so they must be friendly to people that burst out of jail.

-I don't know, Camalia, this seems like a bad idea... At least we should hide our identities.

The girl had a smile ears to ears, happy to go to a place with other people and to finally merge. She looked around and took a black thing that was laying there. She got closer to Varian that took a step back.

-Wowowo, I thought you had some kind of melody for this !

-Nope !

She spread the black stuff in his head, hiding his hair strip. Satisfied, she took a step back to admire her work.

-Seriously ? I don't think it'll be enough.

Camalia frowned and put the boy's googles on his chest instead of his head before nodding knowingly. She proceed to put a single mole in her cheek and she was done. Varian let out a very long sigh.

-This is going to end badly.

The music mage shrugged it off and ran toward the tavern, her heart pounding in her chest. The alchemist had a bad feeling about all this, but he followed her anyway.

-Come on, Varian ! Hurry up !

She was waiting in front of the door for him, stomping her feet with impatience. Once he was finally there, she opened the door wide and stepped in. The tavern that was noisy a minute ago brutally fell silent. Everyone was staring at the two kids with suspicious looks. One of them, a giant with two reduced human skulls on his chest, got up and approached them. He detailed them carefully and pulled out a wanted poster with both of their faces on it.

-I knew this was a bad idea...

Varian just whispered that, and seeing how close the man was, he probably heard it. But he didn't seem to care and taped on the paper, making Varian jolt a little.

-Have you seen those two ?

The alchemist stared at the colossus with disbelief. Was he serious ? It was obviously them. He looked over the guy's shoulder, and everyone else in the tavern seemed to think the same thing.

-I- uh... We... We didn't...

Varian stuttered, incapable of making a coherent sentence.

-Nope, we haven't seen them. Sorry guys.

The man grunted in disappointment and went back to the table with his "pals". Varian slowly started to breath again. Beside him, Camalia was waving and smiling to all those terrifying criminals. That girl was definitely insane. No normal human being should have been able to keep this calm in this situation. She pulled the boy toward the counter, and he could see that everyone had lost interest in them.

They sat in the chairs and Camalia ordered two drinks while the alchemist was trying to relax, surrounded by all those people that obviously thought of nothing else but getting them to the guards. It was a terrible idea, they should have never entered here. But if they left now in a hurry, it would have just been more suspicious. Beside him, unaware of the swerling thought in her friend's head, Camalia was having the time of her life. She was looking up and down, side to side, eager to understand, to see and to know everything there is to know about this place. It was the very first public place she'd ever been too, and for her, it was amazing.

The drinks finally arrived and Varian drunk all of his at once. It had a weird taste, but it immediatly relaxed him. He had a small hiccup when he put his empty cup down. Camalia was taking it slow, the strange aroma not really bothering her. Even if each sip was making her feel a little odd. But she thought it was normal, so she wasn't really alarmed by it.

Very soon, they both were completely drunk. Neither of them had never took alcohol before, and it was really effective. Varian started to see something was off when his sight became blurry. He had a moment where he thought they'd been poisoned, before realising it wasn't going any further than having a blurry sight, small hiccups from time to time and difficulty to actually think things through.

He frowned, like he was in deep concentration, and turned to Camalia that was just finishing her drink.

-Camalia, I think... I think we've just drank alcohool.

The guitare girl giggled stupidly.

-Oh, we did ? So that's what it taste like... I don't know if I like it though.

-Camlaia, this is serious ! We, hum, we're on the run, and it's a -hic- terrible time to get drunk.

-Relaaaax, Varian, we're going to be okay, it'ssss just a lil' bit of alcohool, and nobody know we're on the run here ! Isss just fine.

Varian scrouched his nose and pouted. It was probably not okay, but he couldn't keep focused long enough to actually find a decent solution to this, so he just shrugged it off.

-Hey, Camlaie... Camalai... Cam... Wow, your name is really hard to say when we're drunk.

They both started to chuckle until laughing uncontrollably, one of them often trying to say the girl's name and failing hilariously. At that point, with two completely wasted teenager hurling in his tavern, the barman was starting to reconsider his life choices, especially the one of mindlessly handing them two full cup of strong liquor.

When they finally calmed down, to the relief of the poor tavernier, the alchemist could finally say carefully, very carefully, what he wa meaning to say.

-Why was one of the snakes calling you "little plant" ?

Camalia considered him for a moment.

-Really ? Of all the questions you could ask right now, THIS is the -hic- the one you chose ?

Varian shrugged. Oddly enough, it was the first one that popped into his mind. It was probably the ethanol that was making this thought emerge from all the others.

-Well, at first it was because of the color of my eyes, because their insanely green, y'know... But it was just an occasional thing, most of the time she was just calling me "dear" or something... Then I grew giant stuffs of grass alllll over the cell and suddenly, BAM ! It was the official nickname ! Like, really ? But you know they kind of also threw me against walls and stuffs so uh, I guess it was the least of my worries. But I had a moment when she first called me that. I was like : well, uh... well that's... that's surprising, you know ?

The boy snickered and faced the girl, a big smile on his face.

-Wait so that mean she started to call you that because you -hic- you smashed everything in jail with a... a ding ding of your guitare ?

-Yeeeep...

He laughed again, finding it hilarious for some reason. She chuckled softly and took a sip of the water the barman carefully put in front of them. She really missed that. They may be completely drunk, and in a terrible place with poor disguise, and Varian may still be mad at her, but she felt great. Not just because of the alcohol. She just... she felt great.

-Oh, oh, did she have a nickname for me ?

Camalia focused on her friend again, and she tried to remember if she did...

-Well... If I remember correctly -wich I probably don't- she called you "alchemy boy" like... hic, once.

He thought about it for a minute or so, before nodding, like he was approving it.

-I guess it's a better nickname than "sburben", heh.

Camalia chocked in her drink, not expecting the joke and they both laughed at the top of their lungs. They were having fun, as much as back when they were in jail and hanging out. Camalia shuffled Varian's hair in an affective way and smiled at him.

-What can I say, Ball, my curse was great at finding nicknames !

Varian suddenly stopped laughing and he looked at his friend with emotion, hardly expressing the punch in the stomach he just felt. But for once, it was a good feeling. He felt his eyes water a little but he refused to become that emotional over a single word. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, emotion drowning his words as effectively as if he was in deep sea. He concentrated, and after long enough, a sentence finally crossed the barrier of his lips.

-It's... been a while since you called me that.

Camalia grinned, warmth and affection in her eyes. She raised her glass as if to salute him and took a sip before answering.

-It's been a while since I could.

Another wave of emotions hit Varian and he took deep breaths. Everything was messy in his head, and he didn't really know where he was at that point. He leaned of the counter, his head in his hands. Camalia wasn't worried, she knew he wasn't in actual pain. She kept drinking the water with a small smile, looking around the tavern and waving at whoever crossed her eyes.

The alchemist could hardly think, between all those feelings and the alcohol slithering in his veins. But he wanted to speak, and to actually express what he really had in his heart. He wanted to talk.

-Listen, I want to forgive you but... You shouldn't have done that. Not at that moment, not when I was in that state. A friend wouldn't have done what you've done.

He looked up in her eyes, and she could see that for once he was sincere. Camalia didn't look hurt or anything. She was listenning. And it encourage him to open even more.

-But on the other hand, to be honest, I... kind of consider you as a "best friend" ? I-I guess ? Because you are still sticking around despite me being a jerk around you, and... and you still have my back, you... you don't give up on me, and I think that's what friends do. But I still feel awful behaving like that around you, but I-I still can't forgive you... I...I don't know, I'm just...

He hid his face in his hands and sighed. He felt lighter after speaking, but it felt like it wasn't enough. It felt like he couldn't stop the flow of words, after holding them back for so long. It felt like he could say his deepest secrets and not regret it. But he shouldn't, he had to keep quiet, to keep it to himself like he always did.

-I'm just so confused...

Camalia winced a little. To be honest, she wasn't really seeing clear either. And it was not a pun with the fact they are currently drunk. The guitare girl didn't really know where she was in life at that point. What she was supposed to do, to say, how she was supposed to act, to behave, to walk... But all of that she already expressed it earlier. She didn't know what to do of her life, but she knew she wanted Varian to be a part of it. Camalia really wanted the scientist to be friend with her again. With all that in mind, she was about to answer when Varian suddenly sat straight up and continued talking.

-And I just realised that I am making the mistakes I did with Rapunzel all over again ! We were friends, now we aren't because of something you did that hurted me, I am trying to use you to free my dad... What's next ? I try to kill you with a giant robot and I fail, and I'm put back in prison again ?

Suddenly it was as if all the weights in the world was put back on his shoulders, and tiredness spread on his face. It was like all of what he had done, all of his mistakes and guilt were back after Camalia chased them away months ago. It was as if he remembered what he never forgot.

-I'm... I am just a mess, Cam.

Varian was avoiding her look, staring at the wall across the tavern. The girl softly brushed his arm, making him look back up. She had a weak smile before taking his hand in hers. She hesitated, biting her lips as if it costed her to say it. She frowned and made up her mind, looking straight in her friend blue eyes.

-Well, I am a mess too. Maybe... maybe we could try to stop being messes together ?

Varian squeezed slightly her hand, and not really knowing how to answer, he just smiled gently. Camalia could see this whole situation was really overwhelming for both of them, so she decided to break the crushing mood. She put her arms around his neck and hugged a very confused alchemist. Suddenly they were back in the tavern, even if they never left, with all criminals, the dimed light and the alcohol in their veins. Out of nowhere, Camalia climbed the counter and pointed her guitare in the air as if it was a sword.

Does any of this really matter, after all ?

We have other thing to worry about, Ball.

And really, maybe you'll be the best friend I'll never be.

Varian chuckled and clapped along, even if it meant dragging all attention onto them. Well, if they had to go down, the least they could do is go down with style.

And we jump, and we spin, around and around,

Not worrying about what might come next

Because what use to open the wound

When really you're the best friend I'll never be

But Camalia was already in the song, spinning and jumping like she was saying, hoping down the counter to jump on a table, talking like a bard spreading the best ballad of the moment. All of the bad guys in the tavern raised their heads, listenning to the teen, most of them seemed really invested in the song, even to move their foot in rythm. Some were so much into it that they grabbed whatever they had under their hands and started to provide background to the song. Camalia was dancing, from table to table, singing, and pouring her emotions out, laughing and smiling like it was all that mattered.

Because you're smart

Because you're great

Because you never give up, no you never do

And because you're kind

Because you're the best thing that ever happened to me

People were dancing all around the tavern by now, playing whatever instruments they made or singing along, some just moving around. The alchemist jumped on the same table Camalia was on and sang the last line with her, grinning ear to ear.

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Happy to see that Varian was as much into the moment as her, Camalia danced with him on the table while the song carried on in the crowd, each client of the tavern passing the song to another.

I used to throw fires at people I didn't like

I used to scare people away because I was too buff

I used to do some mountain bike

I used to collect handcuffs

I used to sing but it was too deep

I used to make some tasty cakes

I used to sell stolen things a bit cheap

I used to dive in frozen lakes

The two teenagers jumped off the table and danced around before taking the song back.

I used to threaten kingdom and royalty

And I used to be in jail for all eternity

And in a strong chorus everyone was singing at the top of their lungs the two sentences, as if they will never sing again.

But none of this you ever cared,

Because you're the best friend I'll never be !

This time Varian took over, driven by the song, the piano someone finally started to use following his voice and steps as he danced through the tavern, incapable of stopping, the beat in his heart, the melody in his head, the lyrics in his mouth, and the great happiness in his soul.

Because you're sweet,

Because you can play some melodies,

Because you're curious about what is all around us

And because you're cool,

Because you're one of the best thing that ever happened to me

Yeah that's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

Everyone was lead by the song, smiles were all over the place, laughter resonated from time to time, and everything was just joy and music. The beat, the piano, the chorus, the voices, the moves, the tavern, the people, the heat, the lights, the moment, everything was perfect. Everything was fine, so fine you could get lost and never emerge from it. But they would get out of there. They always did and always will.

And it's because you're strong

And passionnate

And considerate

And it's because you play like a god

And sing

And swing

And it's because you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me,

Yeah the greatest thing that ever happened to me

That's why you're the best friend I'll never be !

The song ended but nobody moved, heavy breathing being all you could hear for a couple of seconds, before someone snicker in a corner and the whole Snuggly Duckling exploded in laughter. Slaps on people's back you didn't know five minutes before were distributed and friendship that weren't even a thought formed. Varian and Camalia finally exited the happy tavern arm in arm, grinning and snorting, completely unnoticed and overlooked. It may be because of the song still beating in their ears, or the alcohol still flowing in their blood, but they were both really relaxed and glad to be right there, right now, with the right person.

The day was warm, with a gentle wind brushing the skin, avoiding any burn. The grass was fresh and the birds singing in the trees. After walking a while in the forest, away from the path and tavern, laughing and stumbling, Camalia and Varian plopped down in the grass, under a tree gracefully protecting them with it's shadow. They stayed like that a while, laying peacefully in the grass. A few insects passed by, wondering what those two humans were doing here, then going on with their day.

-Hey Varian, can you guess what a lycaedes melissa samuelis is ?

The alchemist felt his heart warm up and tears built up in his eyes. He brushed them away, smiling like a kid, and thinking about what she asked. His brain was really slowed down by the alcohol, and he couldn't keep focus on searching an answer. Distractly looking at a squirrel jumping from branch to branch, he shrugged and gave the first thing that came in his mind.

-I have no idea why, but it makes me think of a butterfly.

-Woah, no way, you guessed !

-Really ? You're not messing with me ?

-No no, I swear ! It's probably the only insect's name I remember but it's because there was such a pretty drawing of the butterfly in the book, it just stuck with me.

He snickered, proud of guessing the right thing. He started thinking about a question to ask his friend, when his train of thoughts stopped on something.

-Hey, Camli- Cam ?

The music mage was surprised by the serious tone of his voice, and her throat tighten. She feared she had taken a step too far and now he was mad at her again for some reason, and she would be all alone again. Thankfully, it was not what happened.

-Before we enter the duck tavern, you... you said you would actually tell me your real story if I wanted to. Well... I do.

Camalia took a moment to actually register the information and calm down from the rush of adrealin she just had. It was always difficult for her to talk about her past. No, it was the first time ever she would actually talk about it to anyone. But it wasn't just anyone, it was Varian, and, if he couldn't trust her... she knew she could trust him.

-Okay. So I don't remember anything before waking up in an alley in Corona. I was around 1 I think, so it's really blurry, but I do know that Witheria and Decaiera were with me. Not the giant scary snakes you saw, they were... two sweet and small white snakes that took care of me until I turned 4. That year, I can not forget. They were there, and then POOF ! Gone ! The day I turned 4. I never understood why that day, but I did understand where they went not long after that. Wait I-hum... That's not in the right order. Hold on, backing down.

Varian giggled as silently as possible, but he still got a tap on his head from an annoyed Camalia.

-So I turned 4, they were gone, I was all alone without a house or anything, with nothing but a guitare and a stolen shirt I used as a dress. I never had to worry about sleeping soundly or... or food, With' and Decaiera were always providing. But then, I had to think about those. I didn't want to steal at first, So I tried performing in the street so people would give me money and I could buy something. Surprisingly, it worked pretty well, until that guy I told you about came and wrecked my guitare on the ground. I got really scared that the horrible pain would go back if I tried playing and singing again for money, so I... I just stopped. But I still had to eat. So, after three days without eating, I stole something. It was just an apple I think. Anyway, I was really tired and weak, and the guards catched me really quickly. I went to court, and I was terrified. I was holding at my guitare like my life depended on it -which, heh, it does- in the middle of all those giants talking about what they should do with me. When one of them mentionned raising me and giving me a home., I got scared. Yeah, I uh... I forgot to mention -I am terrible at telling stories- that I had a crisis during the time I was starving myself.

The alchemist frowned and was about to ask a question then shut his mouth. He would wait until she's done opening up. It was for the better.

-I knew I was super dangerous, and I didn't want to hurt anyone. So I asked them to put me in a place where I couldn't. That's when Cap' spoke up. I went in prison, and imagine, going from a dirty alley, using the rain to shower to Corona's prison ? That was amazing for me ! I had a bed, and space, and a ceiling above my head. I felt safe for the first time in a year. I was so excited ! The king and queen accepted to let me stay there. I met Masha that day, she was the one to bath me and make me eat when I was a kid. So the years passed, I had a crisis every single years, sometime more, but never less. I was still happy with what I got, but at ten years old, it was starting to feel a bit... small. And lonely. Cap' often came by to talk or play with me, he was like a friend to me... But there always been a...a distance, you know ? Like I wasn't really part of his world. So, I tried to have friends in prison.

Camalia took a break there. She didn't really like to talk about how lonely and distressed she felt all the time back then. But she wanted to be completely honest to Varian. She just needed some time to get this right.

-Most of the times the baddies were just ignoring me, some used me to escape, and some were actually really nice to me, until they got out and forgot all about my existence. That was a fun part of my life. But most of the time, I was bored and alone. I knew I had a key to get out, but I was always terrified that it would be when I was outside the snakes would "possess" me or something. So I stayed in jail, reading an insane amount of books, playing with my guitare and doing some stupid stuffs whenever I could. Cap' often came down to yell at me because I exploded something or sang to loud. Oh, I remember I used to go in the castle, back when the curse wasn't as strong as today. I met a lot of people, and I think they liked me ! But never enough to go see me in prison. I never saw the king or queen again, don't really know why. And about the prisoners, there was that guy, Flynn Rider, that really stuck with me because he had the exact same name as my favourite book character ! He was also really nice to me whenever he came by. Which was a lot. It took him a while to actually remember my name, but once he did, he got it. He always waved at me whenever he passed by to go to his cell. Really nice guy. Now that I think of it, I haven't seen him in a while.

Varian was about to inform her of the wereabout of the book character, but he changed his mind once again at the last moment.

-Anyway, I grew up, and Cap' was spending less and less time with me, until he didn't come at all, except to be angry at me. I never understood why, but I shrugged it off, there wasn't much I could do. And then, YOU showed up ! I was so happy to see that there was someone my age in the cell right across the corridor ! Of course, at that time, you weren't really "in the mood". But I always hated to see people down and I really wanted to cheer you up. Blah blah blah, we became friends, gnagnagna, I lied to you because I was afraid, blah blah blah, you learned about the curse, got mad at me, we escaped, and HERE WE ARE !

Her voice faded away and the birds, wind, insects and soft brush took over what was their. The sounds mingled together in perfect harmony, the only melody they wanted to hear right now. The melody of nature. Varian had thousands questions, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out for Camalia's hand and hold it tight. The sun was warm, the shadow was cool, the tree was chanting, the birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, life was all around them and in their heart and soul. They silently contemplated everything.

Maybe it was already fine. FIRST / PREVIOUS

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Dead Man Walking (8/10)

Summary: Prime Ministers don’t normally wake up in morgues after they’ve been murdered, but that’s exactly what Robert Sutherland has just done. Right in front of Lacey’s nose. With limited resources and not knowing who to trust, Sutherland and Lacey must work together to get to the bottom of the attempted assassination.

Based loosely on this dream I had.

Rated: T, eventually E.

Note: This is meant to be ‘darkly humorous and amusing mystery’ rather than ‘gripping political thriller’…

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [AO3]

Dead Man Walking

Eight

Lacey woke up incredibly confused as to where she was and what time it was. It felt like it ought to have been the middle of the night, but there was sunlight streaming in through the windows, and she remembered that the dawn greyness had already been showing outside when she and Sutherland had been talking. She didn’t remember falling asleep and she only had the vaguest of notions of what they had been talking about when she dropped off. Student loans had definitely come into it somewhere.

She unfolded herself out of the chair that she’d crashed in, getting tangled up in the blanket that someone had tucked in around her. She wondered if it was Sutherland. He’d been the only one with her when she’d fallen asleep, after all. 

The smell of breakfast was pervading through the house, despite it probably being closer to lunch time, and Lacey followed her nose through to the kitchen. Sutherland was in there, making eggs and bacon at the stove. 

“Good to see that being poisoned hasn’t affected your appetite.”

He laughed. “And good morning to you too. Well, afternoon.”

Lacey slid into a seat at the kitchen table just as Mrs de Ville came bustling in from the conservatory with a bowl of fresh tomatoes. The domesticity of the scene made her snort. Here she was, hiding out with the Prime Minister in the house of an eccentric old woman that neither of them had met before the previous night. And the Prime Minister was happily making breakfast, and Lacey was trying to tell herself that this increasingly weird scenario was all just a dream and she would wake up back in the morgue having fallen asleep on the desk. Either Sutherland would still be under his sheet, or the morgue would be empty, and Sutherland would be where he belonged in Downing Street. 

She pinched herself, but it was to no avail. She was definitely here. 

“What time is it?” she asked. Mrs de Ville brought over a cup of coffee which Lacey accepted gratefully. 

“Just gone twelve. Not too late for brunch.”

Lacey jerked back into full wakefulness. She’d promised to call her dad at noon to reassure him that she was still all right, and if she didn’t check in soon then he’d probably start scouring the countryside for her in the belief that she’d been kidnapped by the Civil Service.

She grabbed her phone and the coffee and went out into the garden. Hopefully, the others wouldn’t think too much of her sudden disappearance. 

Moe picked up on the first ring.

“Lace? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just overslept. It was a weird night.”

“You’re telling me. How’s you-know-who?”

Lacey glanced back over her shoulder at the kitchen and the figure of the Prime Minister standing there cooking. “He’s still alive and kicking. It’s really weird, you never think you’ll get to know someone like that.”

“Going into hiding following a failed assassination brings people together, I imagine.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Do you know when you might be home?”

Lacey didn’t reply for a long time; she didn’t really know. Theoretically, she could go home at any time. Nothing was stopping her apart from her own stubborn determination to see this through to the end and see justice done. She had no idea what had happened to Carrie on her trip to Chequers to look for evidence, but the fact that Sutherland and Maddie both seemed calm made her think that it had been a success. Or at least that Carrie and Ursula had both come back in one piece. The taxi was nowhere to be seen in the driveway, but Ursula likely had a home of her own to go to and was sensible enough to go to it. 

“I should be back tonight,” she said. She knew that she couldn’t stay embroiled in this world forever, and it would help her to let go if she had a limit in place. The longer she stayed here, the more she would find herself thinking about Sutherland in ways that people really should not think about the Prime Minister. 

“Well, keep yourself safe.”

“Of course. Thanks Dad. I’ll see you soon.”

She stayed standing in the garden for a long time after saying goodbye, thinking about the events that had transpired. More specifically, thinking about Sutherland. She really shouldn’t be developing feelings for him. They were part of two extremely different worlds for a start. She was an almost-forensic scientist in the middle of Buckinghamshire, and he was the Prime Minister and lived predominantly in London. She wasn’t exactly part of the elite that he was normally surrounded with. There was no way that he could find anything likeable about her. 

Although, that said, he had been a great conversation partner and he had always taken her seriously when she had been arguing with him, never once brushing off her concerns. And he’d given her a blanket and made sure she was comfortable when she’d nodded off, likely mid-way through him talking. 

She sighed. There was nothing to be gained from standing out here like a lemon, especially when her stomach was loudly informing her of the last time she’d eaten anything substantial and brunch was waiting for her in the house. 

Sutherland and Mrs de Ville were both sitting at the table with plates of eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and toast in front of them when Lacey returned, and she helped herself from the dishes. The food was good, although Lacey would have been quite happy with anything vaguely edible at that point in time. 

“I never had you down as the culinary type,” she said, to end the silence if nothing else. “Don’t you have staff to do all that kind of thing?”

Sutherland shook his head in despair. “You make it sound like I’ve lived in a palace my entire life. Yes, there are kitchen staff, but generally I cook for myself if I’m not hosting a grand reception for several world leaders.”

Annoyingly, that made sense, and Lacey just continued to chew her toast in silence. She really needed to stop finding reasons to like the man. 

They were saved from any awkwardness by Carrie entering the kitchen. If there was one thing that Lacey had learned about Carrie in all of the very brief time that she had known her, it was that she never did anything by halves. Despite having been up all night, she was still dressed to the nines and wearing full make-up.

“Good afternoon, everyone! What a lovely day to get the head of the Civil Service banged up on an attempted murder charge.”

Mrs de Ville looked at her daughter with an expression that was part disbelief and part maternal pride. “Did you find something, then?”

Carrie waved her phone. “I most certainly did, and Spencer’s not going to know what hit him.” She threw herself down into the remaining seat at the table and grabbed a piece of toast out of Sutherland’s hand. “Hey, I found evidence that you’re at the centre of a bloodthirsty power grab plot, the least you can do is give me your toast.”

“When you couch it in those terms, I’m not entirely sure I should be grateful,” Sutherland muttered as Maddie got up to make a fresh batch of toast. 

Lacey watched the interplay between Carrie and Sutherland, and a part of her had to wonder. She wasn’t exactly jealous of the easy familiarity between them, or the fact that Sutherland was so comfortable with Carrie in his personal space, but she’d spent so long trying not to be attracted to him that she hadn’t really thought about whether there was in fact anyone else in the picture, someone who would render her thoughts moot anyway. She knew that he wasn’t married and was nominally single, and she’d always suspected that if there was a significant other in his life then it would be all over the papers, him being such a public figure and all. On the other hand, if his significant other was his closest assistant, then they would certainly be in the best position to keep everything under wraps. 

Carrie’s phone began to ring, and she gave a theatrical sigh, taking her toast with her out of the kitchen and into the living room where they had been holed up the previous evening. If it was a professional call then it probably wasn’t a good idea to take it in a place where the caller could potentially overhear that Sutherland was still alive. Maybe the news had been spread further than they thought.

Lacey still didn’t really understand what the plan was supposed to be in terms of keeping it under wraps. Sutherland’s death had not been reported to the public yet, which meant that there were three distinct groups of people: those who thought he was dead, those who knew he was alive, and those who weren’t aware that there had been any change in his state at all and would hopefully continue their lives none the wiser. She had to smile when she thought of the potential headlines regarding the assassination attempt, and she wondered if there would even be any or if the Civil Service would work to keep everything tightly clamped down. Especially since one of their own was heavily implicated in the plot. She knew that if she’d been reading about everything that had happened on the news, then she wouldn’t believe any of it. She only half-believed it now, and she was living in the middle of it.

“Darlings, I am afraid I am going to have to love you and leave you.” Carrie swept back into the kitchen, taking another two pieces of toast from the rack that Maddie was bringing over to the table. “News of your demise and resurrection has spread to my London-based colleagues and no one knows whether they ought to be planning a funeral, asking Archie to come and take over as interim Prime Minister, or sending the attack dogs to get Sir Albert. I think most of them are hoping for the latter. It’s absolute chaos up there, I’m going to have to go and sort it out personally before anyone else can do something catastrophic.”

“Should I come?” Sutherland was halfway out of his chair, but Carrie pushed him back down. 

“No, no, you sit tight here with Lacey and Mother for a while longer. You’re my secret weapon, darling. I want to be able to pull you out of the bag with relish and enjoy the look on Albert Spencer’s face when he realises just what’s been going on whilst he’s been frantically looking for your corpse.” She kissed him on both cheeks in farewell and did the same to her mother. “I’ll call you when it’s safe for you to come back! In the meantime, avoid rhododendrons!”

With that, she left the kitchen again, and Lacey listened to her rushing around the house gathering her things together. 

“I’ll go and see her off.” Maddie left the kitchen, and if Lacey didn’t know better then she’d say that she’d given her a very pointed look as she closed the door after her. 

Sutherland looked at the door for a long time, then he met Lacey’s eyes. “I think she’s doing that on purpose.”

“What?”

“Leaving us alone together.”

Well, having a pensioner match-make her with the Prime Minister was certainly a new experience for Lacey, but she wasn’t going to knock it yet. Presumably if Maddie was attempting to set them up, then it meant that there was nothing between Carrie and Sutherland, but at the same time, Maddie may not have been the most observant of souls. 

Still, it gave her an opening. If everything went completely down the tubes after this then she never had to see the man again, after all. Her moped was still outside, and she could be at home forgetting about the entire ordeal in half an hour. 

“I was thinking the same,” she said. “But then you and Carrie…”

Sutherland laughed. “I’m the wrong gender for Carrie. No, I think she’s got her sights set on Ursula rather than me.”

“Oh. Right.”

With that particular misapprehension cleared up, Lacey didn’t really know where to go next. She and Sutherland were both still looking at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. 

Lacey took a deep breath, sticking to her previous reassurance that if it all went wrong, she could just escape back home and never think of the incident again. She moved around to the seat at the table next to Sutherland that Maddie had just vacated and inched a little closer to him. 

“So…” she began. “Over the last very weird day, I’ve come to the conclusion that despite everything I may have said about you and the government in the past, I do really like you. And I was just wondering if you perhaps liked me too, and that Mrs de Ville was actually making the right choice in leaving us alone together on purpose.”

Sutherland gave a slow nod. “Yes, Lacey. I do like you.”

“And not just because I rescued you from a morgue?”

“Not just because I rescued you from a morgue.” He gave a soft huff of laughter. “To be honest, I’m glad that you were the one to bring it up.”

“Really?”

“Well, you’re a beautiful, bright young thing and I’m a crusty old politician. Things could have gone very badly if I’d made the first move.”

Lacey thought back to when she’d found him in a towel on the landing, and the raging desires that had consumed her mind for those few moments. 

“I get your point. I don’t think that things are going to go badly, though. I mean, by necessity our time together is limited, right? You’ll go back to London. I’ll stay here. It’s a very limited window of opportunity that we’ve got here, and if we both like each other, then we might as well make the most of it.”

Sutherland nodded. “If there’s one thing that I’ve always been good at, it’s seizing windows of opportunity.”

Lacey took the plunge then, leaning in and pressing her lips against Sutherland’s. He accepted her readily, hands coming up to cup her face and pull her in closer. He was a surprisingly good kisser, firm and eager, and Lacey could help but grin as she pulled away. 

“No regrets, Prime Minister?”

“None apart from you calling me that.”

“I have to call you something.”

“I’ve got a name, you know. You can call me Robert.”

Lacey paused. Going onto first name terms made it so much more intimate, more than just a one-night stand. Well, one-day stand, considering how messed-up their sleeping patterns were at the moment. She’d had plenty of one-night stands before but having one with the Prime Minister was something entirely different. 

Oh, what the hell. 

“No regrets, Robert?”

“None.”

He kissed her again, and Lacey scrambled from her chair into his lap. Whatever happened now, she was definitely going to make sure that it was worth it. 

[basileusgerudo]

William’s Backstory

I had the weirdest god damn dream and I’m pretty sure it was just my William taking over my brain and laying out his life story.  I’m just copy pasting it directly in here, so it will be written as a dream, but, this is officially William’s backstory.

Big oof.

So like, it happened in the house but the layout was a bit different because my computer was in the corner of my room, and there’s usually a window and my a/c unit there, but all that was gone.  So it was truly just in the corner.  And mom was with me for some reason and wanting me to google something, or whatever, but the desktop was acting really weird so I held the power button down to restart it but it was taking a really long time??  And when it finally restarted it instantly came back on and a Fuck Ton of red nonsensical text appeared and just scrolled on and on and *on* until it stopped, went black, and then formed a face made of text.

He called himself ‘William Afton’ and the face looked like him, not like any one specific version, but like, I was looking at him dead in the cyber-eye and I knew it was him?  Anyway, he said via text that if we wanted to make out of this encounter alive, I’d have to play his game(s) and of course I didn’t believe him, it felt so vividly real that I figured something was fucking up so I said, out loud, “You’re lying, you can’t be real, this isn’t real, I remember laying down for a nap so this must be just a dream.” And he replied,

>Not real? >Just a dream?

>Well, how about I give your leg a poke then.

>Does this feel real to you, Catherine?

And I felt a pressure on my leg and, of course, freaked the fuck out and just told him to go away, there’s no way this was actually happened, etc., and the entire time I was freaking out the screen was being filled with nothing but laughter like:

>hahahaha(etc. etc.)

But then he threatened mom and said if I wouldn’t play along he’ll just have to “toy with her instead” and I flipped my damn shit cause me and mom are really close and I wouldn’t forgive myself if she got hurt because of me and I just remember sobbing and begging him not to hurt her to let her leave the room and I’ll do as you say, whole nine yards.  He agreed and she left and went and sat in the living room, I guess, but I still didn’t want to play his games because they were like, 8-bit pixel fnaf style mini games of killing kids, so I just started talking to him to stall for time.

And somehow we got into a conversation into his home life and told me about his father, whose name was also William Afton, and how his father was an abusive alcoholic and would beat him and his siblings, he had a younger sister and a younger brother, he was the oldest of the three.  I never got ages but anyway, his dad ended up killing his younger sister b/c he beat the shit out of her so bad and then when the cops showed up (i think the neighbors called?), his dad had William lie or

>He’d do the same thing to me that he did to her.

>And I was terrified, so, of course, I lied.

I started feeling really bad for him so we just kept talking, only it wasn’t because I wanted to stall, it was mainly b/c he seemed really lonely and I figured he hadn’t had a real conversation with someone in a long time.  The next thing he tells me about is the first time he ever killed someone.

>School was the only safe place we all had.

>I always like learning, I made sure to get good grades.

>I suppose because I thought that would make him proud of me, but he never cared.

>I could’ve stayed home a whole week and he wouldn’t have cared.

>Would have just given him more time to beat me.

>So, when I found out my brother was being bullied, I snapped.

>I made him tell me who, what grade, what class he shared with them.

>They were a class above me but I was taller than him, I was taller than nearly everyone in the school, so I had a clear advantage.

>They put up a fight.

>I didn’t know how to punch, but I copied what my father did, how he held his fist, and landed in a few decent hits.

>I suppose he could see he was losing so he ran but I chased after him and I tackled him.

>There was a cinder block nearby so I used it to bash his head in.

>I’ve never felt more powerful in my life.

And I told him I understood why he did it and he accused me of lying but then I went on a whole rant about how I was bullied back in school and my brother would always look out for me (not to the extent of Literal Fucking Murder™) but that I really did understand where he was coming from.  I think he said thank you, or seemed appreciative to some degree, and then I kinda shifted the subject b/c I said,

“Wait, where’s your mom in all this?”

Because he hadn’t mentioned her once.  So then he tells about how he started Afton Robotics and how his mother came into his life and then promptly out of it.

>My mother was just as much a monster and just as guilty as my father.

>She left us soon after my sister was born because she couldn’t take the abuse anymore.

>I begged her to take at least the baby and my brother with her, I would stay behind, as long as they were safe.

>I’ll remember what she said to my dying day.

>”I never wanted any of you, your father just wanted more punching bags.”

>So she left and I’ve hated her ever since.

“William, I’m so sorry.”

>It’s alright, you have no need to apologize.

>You did nothing wrong.

“I know, but I’m still sorry.  You didn’t deserve any of this.  Your siblings didn’t either.”

>...Thank you.

“I only feel a bit terrible for asking but did you ever kill your Dad?  Take over the household, all that jazz?”

>Oh, yes, of course.

>He was drunk one night, too drunk to put up a fight, so I hauled him to his feet but it didn’t quite finish him off.

>So I snapped his neck.

>I told the cops the same exact thing I told them years ago.

>”He fell down the stairs Officer, he’s always been a bit of a drunk and I guess he just lost his balance.”

>They believed me, of course.

>I was free to take over the house, the money, and I went to college and worked on a Robotics degree, started my own business and my own company, Afton Robotics.

>I ran it out of my garage, mind you, but it was successful.

“That’s great!  I mean- minus the murder, but he really fucking deserved it.”

>He did.

>Thank you, for understanding.

>I suppose I should apologize for threatening you.

“It’s okay, you didn’t actually hurt me or Mom, so don’t worry about it.  Tell me more about Afton Robotics.”

>Very well.

>Did I ever mention I had a penchant for the joy of creation?

“No?”

>Well, I did.

>I do, still.

>Ever since I killed that bully, felt such a high, I wanted to keep it.

>I read up on creation and God and decided that if he could make life, so could I.

>So I shifted my focus to technology, robotics, how to build them from scratch, which leads back into the founding of Afton Robotics.

>I was *finally* good at something so I wanted to make some money from it.

>I made kittens, puppies, and small birds for people, sold them as ‘Never-Dying Pets.’

>”Get your child a friend that’ll last them a life-time!”

>It was a hit.

>It was a stable income and it helped when my father’s money, which wasn’t much, eventually ran out.

>I kept the house stable, funded my way through college, and kept it up for a few years.

>But then business dwindled.  My creations weren’t life-like enough anymore.

>Too cold, too clinical.  That’s when I remembered something from my short stint in studying religion.

>Souls.

>My creations didn’t have souls, didn’t have *true* life.

>I decided to give it to them.

>I didn’t want to harm any animals, though so people did just fine.

>I adjusted my robots accordingly - making small dolls was far easier than animals, actually.

>And children are such fragile creatures; so easy to win their favor with promises of candy, of fun, of a friend.

>That’s when I discovered Remnant.

“What is that?”

>Without going into the finer details, it is a substance that is in everyone.  It is in you.  It is in me.

>Children have more of it, everyone does when they’re young, but when they age, it spreads and disperses.

>Much like a soul, it never truly goes away.

>But, given its abundance, it was always far easier to collect it from children.

“But you watched your sister die, didn’t you feel bad?”

>Not at all.

>You see, when my sister died in my arms, she looked so peaceful.  Happy.

>Death, in itself, must be happy.

>I always singled out children who looked sad, were lost, crying.  Unhappy.

>That was the best lure I used: what better thing to offer a sad, lonely child but a chance to be happy forever?

“I… don’t agree with that but, okay. How does your mom factor into all this?”

>It’s alright, I don’t expect you to.

>She factors in because she figured out I had money and she wanted it.

>She called me, of all things, didn’t even bother to track me down, come back to the house.

>Told me she’d heard of my success and so sorry about your father’s accident.

>It didn’t even phase her when I told her about my sister’s death. >That’s when I decided I would kill her too.

>So I told her to come to the house, we could talk about money, and she fell for it.

>She came a few days later.

>She didn’t even apologize for abandoning us.

>She only begged for mercy as I stabbed her until the screaming stopped.

He also never mentions his brother again so I really really don’t know what happened there, other than I guess he left home.  I don’t think he wanted to hurt his only sibling and I guess I didn’t ask or don’t remember, but the next thing I remember is him telling me about Fredbear’s Family Diner.

>I came up with the idea for the Diner when I was nearly caught killing another child.

>I had to come up with something inconspicuous, something that would let me hide the bodies until I could be rid of them properly.

>So I went back to college, got an undergrad in Business, and started to draft blueprints for a bigger animatronic.

>A golden bear.

>Gold is such a soft color, pleasing on the eyes, and I often saw children with stuffed bears, I thought, “what better animal to make full scale than a bear?”

>It took me a year to develop the springlock suit - I’ll get into that in a bit - and then another year to develop the second animal, a golden rabbit.

>I’ve always loved rabbits, such soft, innocent creatures.  Until they aren’t.

“What do you mean?”

>Rabbits are adorable.

>But they are unnerving to some.

>Empty, soulless eyes.  Sharp teeth.  *Quick.*

>A predator hiding behind soft fur.

“Kinda like you.”

>Yes!

>Yes.

>That’s why I made the rabbit suit for me.

>I would become a symbol of innocence, something children would love.

>I would take them away, take the lonely and the sad, and I would make them happy forever.

>I would let them live their happiest day forever.

>I would give them a family.  *My* family.

“William-”

>So I started Fredbear’s Family Diner.

>There were games, pizza, prizes, and of course, two brand new forever friends.

>Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.

>It was an immediate success.

>And the suits, oh, the wonderful springlock suits.

>They were even better, my magnum opus.

>A creation of duality, like rabbits.

>Something that could be worn by an animatronic skeleton or worn by myself.

>I was always in the rabbit suit, I was careful to never let anyone see my face.

>I hired someone as a faux manager, someone easy I could manipulate, and if they ever showed signs of betrayal, I ‘fired’ them and hired another.

>And it was much easier to lure a lost child away, into the back, with promises of meeting Fredbear.

>With a chance to play with me.

>A friend.

>I would stuff their bodies into Fredbear after I’d collected their remnant and their soul.

“Could you collect remnant from the managers you ‘fired?’”

>Caught on to that, did you?

>Clever.

>Yes, I could.

>Like I said before, remnant never truly goes away, it simply thins out.

>A few factors make it collect within the body, but I found fear to be the most enjoyable.

“Why not give adults a happy ending?”

>Because adults are cruel.

>They’ve lost their childhood innocence.

“More like they can see past your act.”

>Haha.

>Yes, I suppose that too.

>I cannot offer an adult candy and pizza and get the same excitement from a child given the same offer.

I kinda lost the plot after that because someone broke into the house and tried to steal the living room T.V. so I chased them off and then me and mom had to run for some reason and the backyard was hella foggy and there was construction equipment everywhere.   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[raywritesthings]

In the Dead of Night 2/9

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Quentin Lance, Lucas Hilton, Sara Lance, Dinah Lance, Thea Queen, Malcolm Merlyn Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (Eventual) Summary: Oliver Queen returns to Starling City after five years away, three years after Sara Lance was found and rescued by her mother. More troubling to him is Laurel’s abrupt and unexplained absence from the city for the same length of time that her sister’s been home. Three years into the past, Dinah Lance makes a terrible choice. *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN (links to both accounts are in bio)*

Present day

John could admit that Oliver had some impressive skills when it came to strategy and planning. But sometimes he was just freaky.

“So you set Lance up to open an investigation into his daughter?”

Oliver looked away from the news report he was watching on mute. A picture of Laurel Lance was displayed along with a banner declaring, Police Open Investigation into Woman’s Three-Year Disappearance. “I knew I wouldn’t get very far asking questions myself and that he had the credibility as her father and the connections to do it. Lance may have been kicked off the force for his drinking, but he’s got a sharp mind when he uses it. Give him a case, and he’s a dog with a bone.”

“Yeah, guess you two have that in common.”

Oliver made a face but didn’t reply.

“He won’t be splitting his time between two missions, though. Speaking of, what’s next in your grand plan to save the city? You could put some pressure on Simon Stagg. Thanks to him there’s a legal aid office that’s closing in the Glades.”

“Stagg isn’t on the list, surprisingly,” Oliver said. “And the Hood can’t exactly attack him for deciding to cancel his donations.”

“So CNRI is just a casualty.” John shook his head. He should have figured. It had been hard enough to convince Oliver to take on the Royal Flush Gang the other night, and even that had ended up connecting back to Robert Queen.

And any other plans went out the window when a motorcyclist nearly shot Moira Queen the next afternoon. Oliver had intel that pointed to a connection with the Bertinelli mafia family, and he decided to investigate as himself. John didn’t see him until the next day.

“So what happened?”

“It’s the daughter, Helena. We were attacked and had to fight our way out. She knows my identity.”

“So what happens now?”

“I tried to reason with her. Her methods are too reckless, and if she’s not careful she could ignite a gang war. She’s coming to the base today.”

Oliver tried to train Helena and be a friend to her, but she was too consumed with the need for revenge against her father. When she went to kill Frank Bertinelli at his home, Oliver was forced to drive her off. She couldn’t stay in Starling City now that her identity had been exposed anyway.

With the holidays now approaching, John wasn’t sure where exactly his friend’s focus was. He still went out as the Hood, and he was still working on developing the club. But for once, John didn’t have to suggest to his friend to take some time off to be at home, as Oliver was also spending time pushing the idea of a holiday party.

“I don’t know, Ollie,” he overheard Tommy Merlyn saying as he drove the two to lunch. John was just glad they weren’t checking out another club, since the last time that had happened he had found them getting roughed up by the owner’s goons out back. “Christmas just hasn’t been the same the last five years without you. And now that the news is saying Laurel’s missing, it’s hard to find the spirit. What do you think happened?”

“I really don’t know, Tommy.”

“It’s scary how people you care about can just disappear like that. You remember when my dad ditched for two years after my mom died?”

“I remember,” Oliver replied.

“I heard nothing from him for two years, and then one day he was just back. No explanation, no reason. I guess I always hoped Laurel was gonna do the same at some point.” Tommy scoffed at himself. “Probably a dumb hope, right?”

“Hey, I’m hoping she comes back okay, too.”

Later on in the base, John had to ask, “So why the party?”

“Because Sara’s coming to Starling for the holidays this year,” Oliver answered. “There’s no chance I could talk to her in Lance’s home, but an invitation to a party is the perfect excuse to get her to the manor.”

“And you think she’ll have something to tell you about her sister.”

“The timing is just too close. I mean, Sara was brought back by her mother less than a week after Laurel supposedly left.” Oliver shook his head. “At the least, she might have a better understanding of what was going on at the time. I can’t imagine that she hasn’t wondered.”

“Or she could just be grateful her sister’s not here to let her have it.” He personally couldn’t imagine how someone could have done that to their own family, but youth and hormones were a trip. Hopefully, she’d learned her lesson. Oliver clearly had.

The party was given the okay by Moira Queen and Walter Steele, and Oliver himself handled the invitations. Thea sat on her phone as John helped him go through the RSVPs one afternoon.

“Sara Lance, no plus one,” he announced, holding one envelope out to Oliver.

Just as he took it, Thea sat up. “You really thought that was a good idea?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to Sara,” Oliver said. “She’s only going to be in town for a little while, so this seemed the best opportunity.”

“Unbelievable.” Thea stood up and continued over her shoulder, “You know, not that I’m glad it turns out she’s missing, but it’s probably for the best Laurel isn’t here right now.”

Oliver winced, but let her go without replying. John returned his focus to sifting through invites.

In the lead up to the party, an unknown imposter started murdering the people on the list who Oliver had already targeted. He had to wonder if maybe they were trying to juggle too much. Without access to any of the copycat’s arrows, however, they just had to wait and hope to catch him in the act.

The night of the party arrived, and John made sure to keep near Oliver without crowding him while he greeted the guests. At one point the Queens and Walter all posed for a family picture. So far so good.

But he noticed a few whispers start up around the room at the approach of a woman John only knew from a few online articles.

John wasn’t sure what he’d expected the infamous Sara Lance to be like. Smiling and cheerful, more mature, flirtatious even?

The young woman that walked up to Oliver was none of those things. Without ever having known her before, John could say without doubt that she was a shadow of herself. Thin and with a drawn face, she looked out of place amongst all the Christmas cheer.

“Hey, Ollie,” she greeted him quietly, so quiet John had to strain to hear even from where he was standing a few feet away.

If Oliver was surprised by how she looked, he hid it well. “Sara. It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Um, thanks for inviting me.”

Oliver shrugged it off. “I heard you were gonna be in town, so I thought we should meet up.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you were lost for longer. If I’d known you survived the Amazo—”

“Sara, that’s okay,” Oliver interrupted her, which was unfortunate since John was really curious as to why she had just mentioned a totally different boat. “Neither of us could’ve known. I’m just glad we both made it back.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m sorry for everything it did to your family. It was stupid and selfish of me, and I never intended for any of that to happen.”

Sara’s gaze was on the floor as she answered, “Well, we’re getting by. Mom’s doing pretty good. Dad’s, you know.”

“Laurel’s missing,” said Oliver pointedly.

“Yeah, well, that was news to everybody,” said Sara, still not lifting her gaze. “She was gone when I got back, you know.”

“Yeah, right before you got back. I’ve been wondering about that.”

Sara froze and finally raised her head. “You think I know something. That’s why you really invited me here, isn’t it?” She huffed a short laugh, but there was a suspiciously wet sheen to her eyes. “I should have figured. You and her, always and forever.”

To his credit, Oliver didn’t try to make an excuse. “Do you know something?”

Her lip trembled, but she backed away. “I can’t do this here.”

“Sara,” said Oliver. He took a step after her but seemed to notice a few of the looks other guests were giving him. Oliver frowned and stalked off in the other direction, quicker than John could follow him.

He stepped into an unoccupied side room with a television and switched it on to check for any news about their imposter, which got him far more than he’d bargained for. A man in a black hood and mask was declaring himself the copycat on TV and challenging the Hood to a duel while he held nine people hostage. Oliver needed to get on this now.

John found him upstairs kicking a boy out of Thea’s room, which had her pretty livid.

“Seriously? You’re gonna invite Sara to this party and then lecture me about my life choices?” Thea shoved past her brother, stalked down the hall and out of sight.

Oliver turned, frustration evident, but froze at the look on John’s face.

“You gotta see this.”

He led him to the television, and Oliver watched with a grim expression. His friend left soon after, and John followed in a van.

By the time he worked his way past the police perimeter, the hostages had been rescued, but Oliver was lying in a heap on the floor of an alley. John loaded him into the van and got to work removing his suit and any other evidence of the true source of his injuries, then rushed to the hospital. This wasn’t something that could be cured with a night of rest at the base.

Later, when Oliver was awake and his family had all gone home, he confessed to John his feeling of failure. John didn’t know what he could say to comfort him. In both his efforts as the Hood and his investigation into the disappearance of Laurel Lance, Oliver had hit a wall.

---

Sara couldn’t sleep that night. Truthfully, she’d gotten very little sleep since she’d arrived in Starling. Maybe since the announcement.

Laurel was missing, and now it was public knowledge. In equal parts, she had been hoping and dreading this day might come.

“Don’t say anything to your father,” her mother had cautioned her as she packed. “If he ever knew the truth—”

“I know, mom.” She’d been hearing the same refrain for the last three years. But what if he did know? What if she could finally come clean to someone?

When she had gotten into Starling and seen him, she hadn’t had the heart. He’d been showing her all the files and bits of information he’d written down spread out all over the coffee table, energized in a way she hadn’t known him to be for five years.

“They haven’t found anything solid yet, but this is a three year-old trail we’re talking about. These things take time. But they’ll find something.” Her dad had sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as anything, and Sara’s insides had squirmed with guilt. He didn’t know it was hopeless. She couldn’t tell him that. So she’d picked at the food he’d made and kept quiet.

She turned over in the bed again. Chances were, he wouldn’t even believe what Sara told him. He’d want to see the proof with his own eyes, and he couldn’t. It was too dangerous.

But there was someone who could possibly brave that danger. Someone who was just as interested in knowing the truth.

Sara had accepted long ago that she and Oliver weren’t actually in love. They’d been a couple of dumb kids, high on the rush of sneaking around and not getting caught. When she’d confessed on the island, she’d been trying to make some sense out of the chaos of their lives. Maybe they had ended up on that island for a reason. Maybe it had been her who survived, and not Shado, for a reason. Maybe it had been her, and not Laurel—

Sara flopped onto her back. Then finally, with a groan, threw the covers off herself and slipped into her shoes and a coat as she left the apartment. She couldn’t live like this anymore.

It wasn’t too hard for her to sneak into the hospital. She waited until the hall was deserted before approaching Oliver’s room and slipping inside.

He was asleep, judging by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. She approached slowly and tapped his shoulder. “Oliver?”

Sara backed off with a gasp as one of his arms reached out, grasping at air where her neck had been moments ago.

“Oliver, it’s me.”

“Sara?” He peered at her through the darkness, like he was trying to decide if she was real. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s you they’ve been talking about on the TV, right? You’ve been going out in Shado’s hood.”

He grimaced. “What about it?”

“You got beaten tonight by that man. The copycat archer everyone’s talking about.”

She’d nearly jumped out of her skin when she’d gotten back from the Queen’s party and seen that uniform on the news.

“What about it?” He repeated, more tersely this time.

“Could you beat him if you met him again? Because if you can’t beat someone of that caliber, Laurel’s gonna stay missing.”

He sat up sharply and let out a hiss of pain, one hand resting over his ribs. “Sara, what do you know?”

“It wasn’t my idea. You gotta believe me about that, Ollie. I didn’t want it to happen. I just wanted to go home. After Ivo, after Slade, I- I—” Her eyes were stinging and her voice was already wavering badly. She honestly didn’t know if she could make it through talking about this. She’d never tried before. It was a taboo subject even at home with her mother.

“Sara.” She could tell he was working to keep his voice calm and even. “Just tell me. What happened to your sister?”

“It was mom,” she blurted. “When she found me, there was a choice, and she made it. I tried to tell her it wasn’t right, but God, Ollie, I was just so tired and afraid. I didn’t want to stay with them, and I let her- I let her—”

Her throat was closing up, refusing to say the words. She kept having to take great gasps of air.

“Just calm down,” Oliver urged, his eyes flickering to the door. “Start from the beginning. How did your mom find you, and what happened when she did?”

“You’re gonna hate me for this,” she said in a low tone. “I’ve hated myself for three years.”

“Whatever’s happened, the first step to making it right is to tell the truth,” he said. “Please, Sara.”

She drew in a breath and began. “The first thing you gotta understand is that my mom knew I went on the boat. She caught me packing and let me go with you, even though you were seeing Laurel.” She didn’t miss his shocked expression at that admission. If he only knew just how bad it was going to get. “I think she blamed herself after the shipwreck, and that’s what drove her to looking for me. She didn’t want to believe she’d let me go off to drown with my sister’s boyfriend. So she started looking…”

[teamdoesminecraft]

Everything about the pokemon au is perfect... is there lore???

oh you know me of COURSE there’s lore

It’s all kind of tangled together and hard to explain right now, so this post is gonna be a little less narratively-written and a little more expository. but as always, shoutout to @crystalfloe​ for being my partner in crime in developing this!

Some of the Ninetales dex entries say that it “came into being when nine wizards merged into one.” Naturally, we took this and ran with it: you know how illusioners are a sort of “secret mob” in Minecraft that were never actually implemented? Hundreds of years ago, in this lore, nine illusioners (possibly the last of their kind) met together in secret to preserve themselves. After a lengthy process of spellcasting, all of them gave up their physical forms and agency to create a new, pokemon spellcaster: Seto. Seto is his own person, not a conglomerate of nine, and he never really feels that he’s not; sometimes, though, when he argues with himself, it feels like there’s nine voices in his head all with different opinions. Being based on a kitsune and also having access to magic and curses in this AU still, he can shapeshift/illusion himself into a nearly human form-- he can’t/won’t get rid of the tails though, ever.

In these hundreds of years ago, Seto did some travelling, and his illager background eventually brought him to a wooden mansion. He lived there for a while, learning new magic under an evoker, and developing a gradual distaste for most other “humans” because of everything negative the illagers had to say about it. One lone adventurer, though, as they always do, stumbled upon the mansion, and found their way inside. Many illagers were asleep at this point in the night, but Seto wasn’t; he was the one who “greeted” the intruder firsthand. Said intruder wasn’t the nicest person either; they lashed out and tried to grab Seto’s tail to hold him down in a fight.

More Ninetales dex entries will tell you that “grabbing one of its tails will result in a 1,000-year curse on you and your descendants.”

Said adventurer lived and died uneventfully after that, but their descendants bore the burden. Sneaking around at night, looking to steal from illagers, and digging their way through the frostbitten winter woods, the family line was cursed with Weavile aspects; the original adventurer was doomed to slowly become one, even losing their mind in the body. Their bloodline wasn’t quite as unfortunate, but became a version of werewolf; were-weaviles, technically. Looking at too much moonlight at any one time causes them to transform and be mentally “replaced” by a far more animalistic version of themselves.

That’s why SSundee wears his glasses; they block out any excess moonlight. Of course, on the full moon, he has no choice but to close every curtain, because at that point there’s just too much to avoid. SSundee lives a rather quiet life, running a pastry shop in a no-name village, keeping his transformations to a minimum. He somehow inherited the original map that led to the mansion in the first place; he keeps ahold of it just as a reminder to not go there, ever.

SSundee’s got a friend, though, who’s willing to do anything for easy money.

Husky took the map, and ignoring SSun’s protests as just standard-SSun-paranoia, went to find the mansion to dig up any potential treasure there. Once inside, he was pursued by illagers, and fell between the walls; in the darkness, he reached for what he thought was a rope. It wasn’t, of course, and Seto had a whole new curse to lay. Husky had never been a fan of rain, surfing, or even baths as much as showers; Seto thought it would be the funniest thing to ruin the experience for him even more. (do I really gotta specify what pokemon Husky is) Husky’s started down the path of slow transformation, with an extra wrench in the formula; if any part of him gets touched by water, that part takes on more kip-like traits until he dries it. He found out while using SSun’s shower, and blamed it on him like it was some sort of shitty prank; when SSun wasn’t open about what he thought happened, Husky threw the door open.

It was a full moon that night (because of course) and Husky was terrified for a short while (because of course), running as far as he could. SSun, before he lost it, was even more terrified, because as far as he knew Weavile were nothing but predators; he doesn’t know much about Weavile, though, and what he neglected to learn was that Weavile are pack bonders, and that he had already built up a strong friendship with Husky. In summary, Husky spent that night trying to avoid being force-fed dead sandshrew by this terrifying demonic weavile that was also still somehow the mom friend.

BACK TO SETO, he has 1 (one) friend who isn’t an illager: a fellow troublemaking fox. Lox is a lonesome zorua who somehow wormed his way into the mansion (because doesn’t everyone eventually) and learned how to control his illusions by watching Seto in secret. Lox uses these illusions, generally, to fuck with people; it doesn’t help that Seto finds it absolutely hilarious. Eventually, Lox learned to create his own individual human form to cast, and learned sign language; he set out on his own just to explore, planning to find more people to mess with. Lox eventually discovered a small cottage in the woods, and was ready to just completely ruin this person’s day by unveiling that Deep Pokemon Magic--

--but True was, unfortunately, already a pokemon fanatic.

Even disregarding Tepig and Zubat, True tends to a bazillion wild pokemon, all the time, constantly. He’s invested in learning everything he can (scientifically) about how they work, especially their ties back to humans. (True is, in this AU, the one person who would be 1000% on board with being part pokemon, and also the one person who never will be.) When Lox tried to mess with him by impersonating people, True immediately recognized him as a Zorua, and tugged him inside for interrogation. True was relentless in his efforts to understand, poring over books, tests, and learning sign language to communicate with Lox better. Lox eventually mentioned that he didn’t want to be pinned down to one location, and didn’t plan on living forever in True’s little house; True realized this, of course, and waved him off, saying Lox was free to go wherever he wanted. Once away, Lox realized that though he liked the outside, he had enjoyed his time with True almost just as much; now Lox looks for any excuse he has to come back, and pops in from time to time for no reason.

One big excuse to come back, of course, is discovering another human-pokemon anomaly; when Lox saw a man with golden horns quietly using telekinesis to steal a lunch in a market square, he intercepted him and led him all the way back to the cottage. Sky was, understandably, confused and a little distressed; eventually after True sat him down they were able to have an actual conversation.

Sky’s history is (surprise surprise) Mary-Sueish. He’s a shiny hoopa (the only hoopa, so technically nobody knows he’s shiny?), and in this world, all legendaries have the ability to form-shift between pokemon and human. He was created by two other legends-- Notch (Arceus) and Herobrine (Giratina) to assist in preserving/expanding/helping the world. They both act as sort of guides for him in this AU, with neither really being evil or omnipotent. After creating Sky, they realized that while he was powerful, he had no experience in the world; they set him in a mostly-human form and instructed him to travel the world, meeting new people, and understand how humans and pokemon interacted and got along. They also, via a certain amount of magic, prevented him from saying what he or his history was; they didn’t want anyone finding out about the legendary child and trying to kidnap/control him. One notable ability of Sky’s is wish-granting; Hoopa being based on a djinn, we had to give him the magical bullshit. He can only grant one a day, though, in total, and he has plenty of restrictions on them-- no time travel, changing things that already happened, etc, etc. 

While Sky couldn’t tell True any of his actual history, True has been helping him learn more about his abilities and is 100% willing to travel with him anywhere to learn more about him.

SPEAKING OF NOTCH ARCEUS did you know he had a bastard son?? And that son was Xephos? YEAH THATS RIGHT TC/YOGS CROSSOVER AND I DONT GIVE A SHIT

Respawning doesn’t exist in this AU, so the yoglabs complex serves a real purpose via the cloning machines. Xephos doesn’t actually know he has any Arceus genes in him; they’re locked away and not apparent at all. That’s not why we’re looking at yoglabs right now, though: we’re here for Bajan.

Backtracking once again, Bajan grew up in a relatively decent-sized village, watching Wizard of Oz (Poke-Oz?) and absolutely loving the Infernape character. When he was about eight, his village was raided by pillagers; he had to run, as fast and as far as he could. Eventually he stumbled into the mountains, and up to Xephos and Honeydew, who were conducting a relatively boring test compared to normal, and YES i’m saying that Bajan’s gay dads are from the yogscast, nothing matters anymore

Bajan was adopted into the compound and was a very curious and energetic child. So curious and energetic, in fact, that he stole a transformation talisman and used it without calibrating it first; he passed out and was given two weeks to live, with his human DNA in constant conflict with the over-abundance of non-specified Pokemon DNA. Not wanting to support child murder, Xephos developed a particular method that he severely hoped would prevent Bajan from dying; he had Bajan pulled out of his safety-fluid-tank for a few hours so he and Dew could talk to him. They explained the procedure and asked if he had any requests-- Bajan still loved Infernape, so that was the first thing out of his mouth.

In the experiment, of course, they had to use Chimchar DNA to more closely match Bajan’s youth, but the procedure worked; he was given a very specifically calculated transformation talisman to wear to prevent him from becoming unstable again. (He was a little miffed that he had been given the “baby” form, but hey, what could you do.) Bajan lived for the next few years as a poke-human hybrid in the labs, generally being a good, if destructive, kid, practicing his firey abilities. On his birthday, he committed a small act of mischief; he lied to Dew and was able to go outside the labs for the first time since he got there.

Bajan fucken loved the outdoors, because who wouldn’t, and went running around way past his curfew before he got lost. While lost, he stumbled upon an absol-- Jerome had been on the run for as long as he could remember, because of the human superstition of absols causing natural disasters. After enough poking and prodding, Jerome eventually agreed to lead Bajan back to the vault door; on the way back, he locked up and refused to move. Bajan followed his gaze and realized that Jerome had sensed an avalanche before it could even begin-- there was no way they were going to outrun it. Bajan positioned himself between the oncoming snow and his new friend, and put every effort he could think of into spitting out the most powerful flamethrower he ever would--

--and he evolved. Bajan had never realized he could evolve before, and spent the next five minutes in complete and utter glee before yanking Jerome back to the labs to show off his new form and his new friend. The yogs weren’t as excited as he was to bring an absol into a place prone to nuclear disaster; he was grounded for lying, staying out past curfew, and the aforementioned absol-napping; Xephos took a mild amount of pity on Jerome, though, and agreed to test whether or not he was actually the cause of natural disasters. Eventually, when nothing really proved that he was, Jerome was allowed to talk to Bajan again-- at which point Jerome asked Bajan to translate his request to the yogs. 

Jerome had lived his life being unable to enter human society, even as a pet, because of the superstition around absol; seeing Bajan, a healthy and happy human-pokemon hybrid, had give him an idea. As Bajan translated, Jerome himself wanted to be a hybrid, so he could talk and interact with people. Xephos, though skeptical, was never one to turn down a scientific opportunity, and eventually was able to complete the procedure. Armed with a new half-human friend, a newly evolved form, and an advanced understanding of maturity, Bajan approached both Xephos and Dew one night with a request: he wanted to go outside the labs, with Jerome, and explore the world on his own to participate in battles. Eventually, they conceded; Bajan was abso-fucking-lutely ecstatic, and so was Jerome, to be travelling with someone for the first time ever. They currently roam the world as a duo, picking fights and having fun.

The entire team will eventually meet up, either through Sky’s wish-granting, Bajan and Jerome’s roaming, or Lox’s people-hunting; maybe a combination of all three. From then on they can travel the world together, working hand-in-hand to discover new things about each other and help one another as some of the only of their kind in this world.

Xephos, however, still sits in the labs, working on understanding pokemon in a much less communication-based way than True. Every time he re-clones himself, some piece gets lost, sending his mind into a darker spiral... it’s only a matter of time before he discovers his locked Arceus genes, and uses them in a way he definitely never should have.

[littlesundragon17]

Freezerburn Week 2018

This whole week of writing will be a collaboration with @littlesnowdragon​

Day 1: Soulmates AU

Word Count: 6759

“So...who am I meeting again?”

Blake turned slightly to look at her, giving Yang her trademark deadpan expression. “Ruby’s new friend from class.”

“Oh,” Yang hummed, pursing her lips slightly, “That’s...”

Any other day, she would've had no issue meeting Ruby's friends. In fact she would've been elated. There was a little bubble of joy and pride that always filled her up whenever she saw her sister leaving her comfort zone and socialising.

Unfortunately, today Yang was just really, really tired.

The walk from Beacon High's soccer field wasn’t exactly a long one, but with nationals around the corner and Pyrrha’s insistence to crank training up to nine thousand, Yang was more exhausted than ever. All she wanted to do right now was go home, take the coldest of showers and sleep forever. And usually, she’d do just that; Ruby would be waiting for her by bumblebee and Yang would drive them home in about ten minutes.

Today, however, her little sister seemed to have other plans—plans that apparently involved Blake taking her to meet a stranger after practice was over.

“Not all that surprising,” Blake finished off for her. “I mean, it is Ruby.”

“Good point, but she could’ve just asked me to stay behind after practice.” Yang said, as she crossed her arms and laid a hand on her chin.

Blake shrugged and pushed open the library doors.

Yang sighed, trying not to let her mood bleed into her words and tone. Blake was obviously as tired and as out of the loop as she was at this point. She wasn’t the kind of person to just drag Yang across campus, sweaty soccer jersey, shorts and all, for an unimportant reason. Maybe she’d seen how eager Ruby had been and known that the younger Xiao Long-Rose would be extremely disappointed if Yang didn’t show up.

And if there’s anything Yang would never allow herself to do, exhausted or not, it was disappoint her little sister, even by mistake.

“Have you met them?” Yang asked, the thought crossing her mind as she wondered just how important this friend was.

Blake gave her a small smirk, “If it’s who I think it is, then yeah. She’s...cool. I think you’ll like her.”

Yang’s eyes widened in wonder and she walked up close behind Blake in curiosity. “Does she play sports?”

“I’m not your personal spy, Yang.” Blake replied, as her expression become more deadpan, “Ask her.”

Yang clicked her tongue, glaring at the faunus. “You’re so mean…” the blonde teased, a playful frown gracing her features.

“I try.”

Yang was just about to reply when she saw a familiar red hood at a table in the corner. Ruby's friend was nowhere in sight... maybe she was on her way? Or getting something deeper in the library?

She decided that thinking on it would just stress her out even more. Besides, despite everything, Yang couldn't help but grin. Seeing her sister always made her a little bit happier.

“There ya’ are, Rubes! I’ve missed you!” The blonde said, as she jogged over to her sister.

“You two came!” Ruby yelled in excitement as she rushed into Yang’s waiting arms. “I thought she'd be too busy with captain stuff after practice.” Ruby mentioned as she looked over at the cat faunus.

Blake gave her a small, teasing smile. “What captain stuff?"

"I thought we were friends!?” Yang said, breaking away from the hug with a mock gasp.

“I changed my mind after having to drag you all the way here.” Blake replied easily. Yang gave her a small, playful shrug.

Ruby laughed at their banter. "Aww man, Weiss is gonna love you guys!"

Something pricked in Yang's mind. Did she know that name?

"Lemme actually get her," Ruby exclaimed excitedly, turning to the shelves and calling out before Yang could ask exactly who her new friend was and why there was something so familiar about her name. “Weiss!"

A loud huff sounded and Yang's eyes opened in recognition as a white haired girl appeared from behind a bookshelf.

"Ruby, honestly, for the last time-" The girl was interrupted by utter shock.

There were two loud, audible gasps.

“You!” Weiss exclaimed and glared. In seconds she was in Yang's space, close enough that her poking, accusing finger practically punctured the blonde's chest.

“Uh oh...” Blake mumbled and facepalmed.

It took Yang a second to realise what was going on, but when she did, she groaned in frustration. Gods damn it. She just wanted to go home! Now she had to deal with Weiss Schnee, the snotty, rich girl.

There was nothing wrong with her on principle. If anything she was rather intriguing and beautiful, the kind of girl Yang couldn't help herself around. But if her actions in the few instances they'd crossed paths were any indication, she hated Yang with a passion. All because of one tiny, teasing statement.

Ruby gulped, “Do you guys... know each other?”

“Yeah. We bumped into each other one day by accident," Yang put her hands up in mock surrender. "I was trying to be nice by complimenting her, but she just called me dumb jock and hasn't let it go since."

Weiss gaped, “I only called you that because you were flirting with me!”

Yang sighed. This again. “C'mon Schnee, a little flirting never killed anyone," and then, because she really wasn't alert enough to watch herself, Yang cracked a small grin. "Besides, I know you like it."

Weiss narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms and intensifying her glare. "Me!? Like anything that has to do with you?! Please!"

Yang wanted to continue their cycle, but then she remembered Ruby was there. As interesting as provoking the heiress until she eventually stormed away in a cute huff was, her sister would be crushed if they kept this up.

"Look, I was just trying to tell you that I think you have pretty eyes," she said honestly, looking at Blake and Ruby for support. "I mean, it's true, right guys?"

Blake let out a chuckle disguised as a cough and Ruby just blinked confusedly.

There was a redness in Weiss' cheeks that might've made Yang grin in satisfaction if it wasn't for the murderous look that accompanied it. Thankfully, drawing attention to the other two girls watching them fight was enough to reign in any possible attempt of homicide from the heiress.

Instead, she sighed as she uncrossed her arms in defeat. “My... apologies, Xiao Long. I've received multiple compliments with ulterior motives so my old defense mechanism kicked in. Perhaps I was too rash…”

The blonde was tempted to add a patronising 'perhaps?', but Weiss was obviously trying to extend an olive branch here. Genuine or not there was no point in continuing to argue right now, especially with an audience.

Yang grinned, deciding that if this was how they were gonna play it, she might as well enjoy herself with some dramatics.  “It’s okay, Ice Queen! I forgive you!” She said as she enveloped the smaller girl in a bear hug.

Weiss squirmed inside Yang’s grasp. “Let me go, you brute!”

Yang laughed at that and let her free. “So we’re good now?” she asked.

“I assume.” Weiss sighed with narrowed eyes, brushing herself off as if to remove the evidence of being in Yang's arms.

Blake cleared her throat. “You two done flirting or...?"

Weiss directed a glare towards the cat faunus whose current deadpan expression revealed a tiny trace of amusement.

"I’m just happy they're friends now!" Ruby, apparently too overjoyed to be confused anymore, cheered and zipped up between the pair. ”This went even better than I thought it would!”

Yang grinned. "So much better! Right Weissy?"

“Ruby, I didn’t know you were friends with Blake?” Weiss asked, ignoring the blonde entirely, though Yang could've sworn her eye was twitching.

"Oh yeah!" Ruby nodded. "We've known Blake since we were kids. Right Blake?"

Blake chuckle-coughed again, but let the moment slide, probably for Weiss' sake. Knowing her, she was racking all this up, preparing an onslaught of subtle teasing for tomorrow. “Mhm. Yang’s my best friend.”

"Best friends, hmm?” Weiss seemed unimpressed.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Yang frowned. "Hey!”

It didn't take long for this to become their regular dynamic - Blake enjoying herself as Yang teased Weiss, and Ruby trying, and failing, to act as mediator between the two. But after a while, it became less out of irritation and anger. They enjoyed spending time with each other and, in a group, it was so much easier to play off their differences than bond over their similarities.

And, surprisingly, they actually had quite a bit in common. This fact became more apparent when Yang realised that they had over half of the same classes together. She insisted to 'help the new girl' by becoming her partner in practically every activity. Originally it had been just to get a rise out of her, but then they learned more about each other and, though Weiss would never admit out loud, they grew closer.

Now, it wasn't uncommon for the blonde to sneak the heiress a wink whenever they caught eyes in the middle of Port's lecture's causing the heiress to blush and narrow her eyes dangerously. Weiss would always reprimand her with a loud whisper, but there was no bite anymore, maybe something else?

Yang blinked at the whiteboard ahead. Professor Peach had never exactly been interesting, and Weiss wasn't in this class with her. Really, all she could do to stay awake was countdown the seconds until she could see the heiress in history later.

If only Weiss was in all her classes. The heiress was smart enough that she didn't need to pay attention to Peach, she probably knew half the syllabus already. Then the blonde could finally finish their conversation from lunch by telling her the big news.

After a whole two months of asking, her dad finally allowed her to get a tattoo!

The blonde smiled giddily as she nudged her sister who was absent mindedly doodling something in her textbook.

“Ruby, it's tomorrow!” The blonde soccer player said in excitement.

Ruby looked up at her sister. “Do I get to come with?”

“Well, yeah. I’m going to try to bring Blake with us but that means I’m going to have to convince Coach Goodwitch to let her... she's already pissed at me skipping practice for the appointment,” Yang said, cringing at the memory of Goodwitch's glare.

Ruby uncharacteristically smirked as she turned back to her drawing, “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Weiss…” she mumbled.

Yang raised an eyebrow, the thought had crossed her mind but... oh not Ruby too. As if Blake wasn't bad enough.

"You guys are really terrible, y'know that?”

"Yup!"

The night before the big chemistry test, Weiss Schnee was in excruciating pain. Her textbooks and study guides where uncharacteristically scattered all over her bed and floor, but she couldn't care less as she writhed on her stomach. The feeling on her back had been almost negligible, a tiny sharp pain that soon turned into a stinging, overwhelming pain that she suspected wouldn't subside for a good couple hours.

“Winter!” Weiss called, as she smacked her face back into her pillow.

She didn't know what she did to the gods for her to receive such terrible pain. It's not like she fell or hurt her head during the previous night... did she? If so, wouldn’t other parts of her body be in pain to?. It was only the top layer of her back, more specifically, the skin, that was in pain.

Weiss didn’t know, could barely even think rationally at the moment since her back burned more. For sure she was going to kill anyone if they were the causes of her soon to be death.

A couple seconds later, Winter came barging in her room, more medicine in her hands. “This is all I could find at the moment. Father ordered attention from professional doctors in Vale to come here immediately. They will be here shortly, Weiss.”

When Weiss looked up, she saw the deep frown on her sister's face, a rare portrayal of emotion she might've appreciated more if she could concentrate on anything but the pain.

Winter sat near the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m still very curious as to why only your back is hurting all of a sudden?” She asked sullenly.

Weiss sighed before answering through gritted teeth. “I do not know. I was in the middle of studying for a test and a stinging pain hit my back. It hasn’t stopped ever since.”

"Odd," Winter hummed with a suspicious lilt in her voice. "Have you done anything... questionable lately?”

Weiss looked up in slight shock. What was Winter implying exactly? Because attending Beacon was something "questionable" all on it's own. For the first time, she made friends. For the first time, she didn't dread waking up and going to school. But even then, she was always home on time, always stayed top of her classes and accomplished all of her homework assignments as soon as she got them. She never gave her friends the chance to influence her into anything she wouldn't regularly do, despite how... attractive and inviting the prospect of certain adventures could be. In fact the only questionable thing that came to mind...

She groaned as the pain trailed lower. Now really wasn't the time to be thinking about that particular blonde haired annoyance. "No...besides studying and going through study guides with Ruby after school.”

Winter raised a brow. Knowing Weiss' competitive nature, that counted as a strange action, but it surely wasn't the answer she was looking for. Or even the most honest answer the younger Schnee could've given.

For a moment there was an awkward silence, then Weiss suddenly gasped in excitement.

Winter’s eyes widened in horror, thinking something terribly wrong had happened. “What?! What’s wrong? Are you still hurt?” She asked as she hastily jumped off the bed and in front of Weiss in a second.

“My back stopped hurting!” Weiss smiled, “The medicine worked, Winter!”

Sighing in relief, Winter placed a hand over her heart. “You scared me half to death, Weiss.”

“My apologies...” Weiss awkwardly stated. They were close, close enough that she wanted to tell Winter everything. Unfortunately, they created an unspoken rule: she was never allowed to mess up or show her emotions when talking to Winter. As upset as it made her, it would be unwise for either of them to slip up or be overly sisterly. Weiss knew Father would not approve.

If only they could be like Ruby and Yang, the two sisters were inseparably close. Speaking of the blonde, Yang had-

Realizing, Weiss stopped herself before her thoughts took control of her. Argh, come on Weiss. stop thinking about her for one second, she thought as she quickly made her way across her bedroom. She buried her face in her pajama drawer, rummaging through for a pair and prayed Winter wouldn't see her growing blush.

In one swift motion, the heiress shimmied out off her white bolero jacket and the top part of her dress when she heard Winter gasp.

“Oh gods...Weiss! What is that?!” She heard the older girl exclaim and speed walk towards her, the soft tone from earlier now accusing and demanding.

“What is what?!" Winter couldn't have seen her flushed face...her back was turned! As embarrassing as it already was, Weiss couldn’t think of a reason why she could find out...right?

Was there something else?

Then she remembered that they were in Vale.

"Is there a spider on me?!” Weiss screeched as she rapidly tried to turn her head towards the back of her. Her skin instinctively twitching and crawled, afraid that a terrible eight-legged gremlin was slowly eating her alive.

“No! You have a tattoo!” Winter said ange and disbelief, like Weiss' spider theory was the most ridiculous misdirect she'd ever heard.  

Weiss stopped her twitching and gave Winter an incredulous look. “Pardon?!”

“You have a dragon tattoo on your back!” The older Schnee repeated again.

The heiress, completely confused by the current escalation of events, quickly faced her back to the mirror. And indeed, there was a black tribal dragon tattoo engulfing most of the white-haired girl’s back.

“What in the actual...” Thankfully Weiss' muscle memory stopped her short of releasing a tirade of curses. “Where did I get this?!”

Winter gave her little sister a defiant look. “Weiss Schnee, you can’t just tell me you don’t know why there’s a tattoo on your back! A tattoo? Really, Weiss!?” Winter exclaimed, at this point she threw her arms in the air.

The younger Schnee girl was in complete shock. She tried to remember everything she’d done in the past week, but nothing this ludicrous came to mind. Did she hit her head at school or maybe someone spiked her drink… and somehow she decided to get a tattoo? None of it seemed real...

“Winter, I’m being serious! I don’t know how I got this tattoo!” Weiss reasoned. Did Winter really not believe her?

That’s when Weiss saw something in Winter’s mind clicked. And she noticed Winter’s eyes sparkled with recognition.

The elder Schnee walked up behind Weiss and briskly touched her sister’s now tarnished skin.

“The red string of fate...” Winter whispered.

Weiss blinked, even more confused. “The what?”

This time Winter walked back in front of a bewildered Weiss and smiled. Weiss blinked in confusion.

“The red string of fate! Weiss! You have a soulmate!” Winter exclaimed happily.

“I have a what?!” Weiss repeated. So much had happened in the span of a few minutes she could barely comprehend what her sister was going on about. “Winter, your scaring me...”

Sighing, the elder Schnee guided Weiss to the edge of the bed as both girls sat. “Have you ever heard of those legends and myths where two people are bound or destined to be together forever?”

Weiss had to ponder for a moment, “In a way yes...but this doesn’t explain about why I have a dragon tattoo on my back...”

Winter gave Weiss a look that told her to be quiet until she was done. “The red string of fate can be all types of different things to bring these destined people together. For example, the same exact birthmarks or even timers on the wrist will tell you when your gonna meet your soulmate.”

Weiss hummed, “I’m listening...”

Finally getting to her point, a small smile found its way to Winter's face and she crossed her arms, “There’s also a myth that the red string of fate connecting soulmates’ pain with one another.”

There was a pause as Weiss processed this information. Sure, she'd heard all the stories but honestly this was so crazy, too impossible to be true. Still, if Winter, the most logical and smartest person Weiss knew believed it...

“Are you saying," Weiss started, needing clarification. "That I got this tattoo and experienced all this because my apparent ‘soulmate’ originally got it as well?”

Winter nodded in affirmation. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

At this point, the heiress didn’t know for sure if she was dreaming or not.

She shook her head in defiance and asked, “how does it even work anyways?”

Winter shrugged. “The red string of fate is...I’d say...temperamental? It automatically decides when it wants to take place. So, this means you may or may not have met your soulmate yet. Sometimes it only activates after you meet your soulmate but then again, it may happen before you meet them in order for different combinations to work.”

“So I may or may not have met them already?” Weiss narrowed her eyes in concentration and thought.

Winter nodded, “Depends on if you met anyone new recently or something may have happened to trigger it.”

Weiss’ thoughts immediately traced back to the one person she'd desperately been trying to keep out of her thoughts.

Yang? Her chest filled with warmth at the thought.

Yang, her soulmate? That was too good to be true. No, that was impossible. Yang was... Yang. She was on the other side of the spectrum of Weiss' realm of possibilities and the living. Not that the blonde was poor, just personality-wise and raising. From this, the warmth from earlier was now replaced with a hollow emptiness. They couldn't be destined for each other, they were polar opposites. True, there were many moments both girls shared with each other concerning school, life and other things lately. Or so when the blonde would glance at her or say her name and she'd see... something in those lilac eyes, but that was all wishful thinking. To Yang, Weiss was nothing more than her sister's friend and school partner.

Besides, if all this was true, Winter mentioned that she could be yet to meet her soulmate... meaning that it could be literally anyone and not Yang.

Something about that felt very wrong.

“Do you think it may be this Ruby?”

Weiss’ eyes widened in shock. “Oh gods, no! She’s just...a friend of mine. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Well, did you meet anyone else recently?” Winter asked again. Weiss didn’t know why but Winter always seemed to know what was going on.

“I... I can't think of anyone,” Weiss tried but her blush resurfaced with revenge.

Winter could tell Weiss was hiding something, of course she could. It was written all over the heiress' face. But, Weiss really hoped Winter wouldn't push it. Telling Winter about Yang...

Deciding not tell her off right away, Winter decided to ask a bit more. “Oh really? Is that all?”

Weiss sighed, realizing there was no way around it. The matter was obviously extremely important to her older sister. “Well, there is Ruby's older sister.”

Winter’s face lit up with interest. “Oh?”

“Yes, her name’s Yang, she’s on Beacon High’s Varsity girls soccer team and I think she’s one of the captains. She’s blonde, tall, muscular, lilac eyes...” Weiss got so caught up in thinking about her she didn't even realise she was rambling.

“I always knew you were into girls.” Winter was actually smirking. Weiss gaped.

“I am not!”

Winter rolled her eyes. “Then explain all the times when you completely disregarded all the boys father threw your way?”

Weiss didn’t say anything for a solid minute and finally sighed in defeat. “I maybe...I’m not sure." A pause. "What are you implying, Winter?” The heiress added, as she gave a small glare towards her older sister.

Winter's out of character smirk grew. "Don’t you think this girl...”

“Her name is Yang...” Weiss interrupted.

“...could be your soulmate?”

Weiss cringed as the thought crossed her mind again. It wasn't happening. It couldn't happen.

"No," she answered slowly, hating the reality behind the word.

If Weiss was being honest with herself, she wanted it more than anything. The blonde was extremely attractive and wasn't the typical jock-girl stereotype. She was admirably sweet and considerate but also prideful, and so obnoxious with her insufferable puns... but Weiss quickly learned to love all of her, even her flaws.

Winter shrugged, “Whatever you say, dear sister.”

Before Weiss could respond a loud gruffy voice called from the bottom floor.

It was their father.

“It must be Father telling us the doctors are here. I’ll go tell them that the medicine I gave you worked and that you fell asleep in peace.” Winter said, her hard, serious tone leaking through again. She got up and was heading for the door.

As Weiss tried to gather her emotional bearings another thought crossed her.

"Winter,” She said, right when the older Schnee was about to close the door.

“Yes, sister?”

“How do you know so much about the red string of fate?”

Winter allowed a genuine smile to settle on her face. “Let’s just say I was in your place once.”

And then she closed the door behind her.

Weiss was pleasantly surprised when she realized she quite enjoyed soccer matches. Something about the competition in the air sang to her, mingling and mixing with the scent of cut grass and the excitement of dozens of students. Her own competitive spirit made it ten times more enjoyable. As unconventional and downright odd Beacon Academy was she’d be damned if she didn’t come ready to glare at the referee when he called anything she disagreed with, or clench her fist hopefully at the chance of a goal.

There was also another blonde haired factor. Watching Yang on the pitch was so intoxicating she couldn’t take her eyes away. She played with so much passion, and it was so evident how much fun she was having, even when they were losing.

And when they won she’d smile and her face would light up and…

Weiss breathed out slightly shakily. This match was different. No time to get caught up in the euphoria of it all, she had to focus, because if she didn’t, she’d miss her chance at finding out the truth.

She blushed at the thought. Actively hoping that Goodwitch was looking away so Yang and Nora could carry on their winning tradition was not something she hadn’t done before. But those times she looked away as soon as she saw skin, far too embarrassed in herself to spare another glance.

They’d won the qualifiers against Haven and Goodwitch was nowhere in sight. Honestly this was so frustrating… and they were switching jerseys!

Weiss stared.

Not because Yang was stretching and she could easily see the muscles in her back taut and relax. Not because a tiny voice in her head told her that she liked this sight a bit too much and that she should get as much as possible before Nora’s jersey obscured her view.

No.

On Yang’s back was the very same black tribal dragon tattoo that Weiss had right that very second…

No. Why would Yang not tell her about getting a tattoo?

But there it was, identical to hers in every single way.

Weiss barely felt herself stand up and follow Ruby down the bleachers to go congratulate the team.

Soulmates. Yang and Weiss were soulmates, bound together by a tall tale the heiress had only heard last night.

This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening.

They were… friends? No, that wasn’t it. Weiss had never felt this close to anyone, not even Ruby, who was her best friend.

Soulmates? She liked Yang, she liked her so much that she sometimes couldn’t understand how it was possible. But the odds of the blonde returning her feelings were nonexistent.

Why her? For the longest time the heiress was nothing to Yang but just that, a proud, self entitled heiress. They’d gotten past their facades together, learned more about each other-

“...I’m proud of us girls!” Pyrrha’s voice broke through her thoughts. “See you all in Vacuo!”

The team cheered and, with the meeting over all started to head for the showers.

The first thing Yang did when the formation broke was head for Ruby and Weiss.

As soon as Yang met eyes with the heiress, the blonde grinned and wrapped her arms around her.

Weiss wished she felt the need to squirm, she really did, but despite all the heat coming off Yang and all the sweat, she felt like she belonged there... and then remembered her recent discovery...

Yang buried her face into Weiss’ neck. “I’m so happy you made it, Weiss.” She whispered.

Yang had always been a very affectionate person and adrenaline never failed to make that even more clear. Weiss wanted to place her arms around the blonde’s neck and snuggle into her shoulder, but they had to figure this out first. So, she did what she'd usually do - pretended she didn't like it.

"Get off me, you smelly brute."

Yang grinned but pulled away. "Hehe... sorry. It's just that we won!"

"I know, I saw," Weiss rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the smile that crept on her face. "You were pretty good out there."

Yang's grin morphed into an elated smile that was honestly the most beautiful thing Weiss had seen. "Pretty good, huh? Thanks princess, I'm glad you enjoy my performance." The blonde winked.

Weiss gave Yang a look, but the smile on her face and the blush in her cheeks only made the blonde laugh.

“Aren't you adorable.” Then, as if finally remembering Ruby was there, she engulfed her little sister in a hug as well, spinning her around and laughing happily.

Weiss frowned. Oh gods, Yang was just so amazing. And now she was her soulmate? Was that even possible?

And as scared as she was, she wanted it be. It was time to she stopped hiding behind their friendship and finally address the elephant in the room. They needed to talk.

The heiress was about to ask Yang to hang back for a minute, but the blonde had already put her sister down and said a quick "Talk to you later, Ice Queen!” before heading off to the showers.

She watched Yang literally bounce off with Nora, the two so high from their win the only reason they could walk straight was Blake, stoically leading the way.

Weiss found herself rooted in her spot. There was always a possibility that this was just... something, something else. It felt real but... what if this whole soulmates thing was just some lie created to explain an impossible coincidence? What if all this was just some sort of lucid dream that she'd wake up from as soon she even tried to pursue her apparent fate?

"Weiss?" Ruby's voice broke her musings. "You ok?"

The heiress looked at her friend for a moment, barely even registering her concerned expression.

Ruby Rose, against all odds, not only befriended her but introduced her to an amazing group of friends and was the reason she got to know Yang, all out of sheer force of will. Knowing how awkward she was, it was a miracle the younger girl had pulled it off.

She'd probably been a little nervous too, but she sucked it up and never looked back.

That's exactly what Weiss needed to do.

She nodded in response. "Yes. I'm fine. I actually need to take care of something, excuse me."

Weiss headed for the showers, not waiting for Ruby's response.

If this was a dream then fine, she'd wake up and everything would be as if nothing happened. If this wasn't meant to be, she'd be heart broken, but at least then she wouldn't have to bury her feelings anymore. And if they really were soulmates... she was ready.

The showers weren't far off and thankfully the noise of the team chatting lead Weiss to exactly where she needed to be.

She knocked on the door, standing up straighter to steel herself for what came next.

By some stroke of luck, Blake opened the door and raised a brow slightly in question.

"I need to talk to Yang," was all Weiss said, and for the second time since they became friends, the heiress saw Blake grin, a full sincere smile.

The cat faunus nodded and turned back into the changing room. "Yang, get out here, it's important!" She looked back to Weiss, her face free of teasing and entirely serious. "Good luck."

Weiss narrowed her eyes slightly. Of course Blake would know, she was Blake. And maybe her attitude meant that the heiress had a chance? Still that didn't take away the feeling of fear churning in her gut.

"Thanks."

There was some commotion behind the door, some laughter and then Yang's head popped out over Blake's shoulder.

"Oh, Weiss, what's up? You missed me?" She teased. "I was just starting to shower, you can hop in and join me if you needed to see me that badly."

The heiress fought to ignore the heat building up in her cheeks, blue meeting lavender with a serious glare. "We need to talk."

Yang's grin fell away immediately, giving way to a worried frown. "Umm, alright, sure," she said, shuffling past Blake. "C'mon.”

The blonde grabbed her hand gently and led them to a free changing room, closing the door behind her.

"Is everything ok? Did I do somethi-" she started, then realised she was still holding Weiss' hand. She let it go like she'd been burned. "Shit, umm, sorry about that."

Weiss sighed. "It's fine. I..."

"I just forgot. No touching, only hugs, maybe, if the moment calls for it-" Yang rambled, her worry evident in her features.

"Yang," Weiss interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Just be quiet and let me speak."

The blonde opened her mouth to say something, but then remembered the heiress' instructions and stayed silent.

"Good,” Weiss started, as she looked up into Yang’s eyes. "I would like to tell you something."

Yang nodded and gave her signature, wide grin that made Weiss' resolve falter. This girl was so perfect and beautiful, this was impossible.

She sighed again. Now or never...

“Have you… ever heard of the red string of fate?”

Yang gave her a funny look. “Huh? What’s that?”

"Idiotic goof," Weiss said, though she couldn’t control the small smile that touched her lips.

Only Yang could look so amazing and so goofy at the same time, with her slightly wet hair sticking to her face and that adorable expression she got everytime she was confused. That was enough to give Weiss the confidence to take Yang’s calloused hands in hers.

“How about this...what would you say if…” A pause. “I said we were destined to be soulmates?”

“Say what now?”

Weiss groaned, now realizing how hard it is to actually express the red string of fate and what it was. Weiss knew only one other way to show her.

This was ridiculous! But at this point, Weiss just wanted to be done with it all. So, the heiress let go off the blonde's hands and quickly pulled her top over her head in one swift motion.

Yang’s eyes went wide and, for a quick moment, those lilac eyes seemed unable to look away. Then Yang shook her head as if to bring herself back to the present, looking straight down. "What are you…”

"Just look." Weiss said, turning her back to the blonde, "Please."

Yang bit her lip nervously and looked up, her eyes meeting the exact replica of her dragon tattoo.

Then, complete silence.

Weiss cleared her throat. She'd never been so mortified in her life. But they were already so far down this confusing path, might as well just keep going.

“The red string of fate says that one of the signs is connected pain and markings. I wasn’t positive that it was you until tonight.” Weiss explained slowly, not once looking back to see the blonde's reaction. "Once I saw your tattoo during the game...I just knew.” The heiress added.

The silence on Yang's end was suffocating. Of course the blonde didn't believe her. This was so weird and out of the blue. Weiss was, in essence, implying they were meant to be together for the rest of their lives. And that in itself was so assuming and self centered. What if Yang had no interest in her?

This was a bad idea. Of course Yang didn't reciprocate. Of course Yang thought she was crazy, she was starting to believe so herself.

She was just about to turn around and apologise for even bringing the issue up, but then soft, gentle fingers were on her back, tracing the outline of her tattoo.

“Yang?” Weiss asked, completely confused and nervous.

Was Yang trying to test the authenticity of the marking? Was she so in shock that she couldn't believe it was real? Or maybe-

Before Weiss could process what was going on, the blonde spun her around, leaned in and kissed her.

She was completely frozen for a moment, but then the heat in her gut burned brighter than ever, melting her from the inside. And soon she was kissing back, with absolutely no idea if she was doing it right or what any of this all meant. All she could focus on were the soft lips on hers and the firm arms wrapped around her waist.

The heiress allowed herself to give into instinct, pressing ever closer to the blonde and clinging onto her slightly damp jersey. Yang seemed to like this, because soon they were against the wall and she was groaning.

Weiss let out a small squeal from surprise and that was all it took for the moment of bliss to stop.

“I-I’m sorry Weiss. I—“ The blonde distanced herself even faster than she had let go off the heiress' hand earlier.

Weiss rolled her eyes and got in closer, gripping onto Yang's jersey and pulling her in. "I told you to keep quiet."

And then their lips were connected again, this time more ferocious and heated. Yang's gentleness from before was cancelled out by the urgency in the heiress' movements. She needed to let the blonde know somehow, how much this meant to her, how much she hoped that this kiss was confirmation.

And even if it wasn't, even if they weren't actually destined by the gods, she didn't care. This felt right. This was right.

All that mattered was the brilliant and gorgeous girl in front of her.

But then Yang was pulling away and she panicked. This couldn't be it. They didn't have to stop.

"Weiss, you're half naked," Yang said as if only just realising it, stepping away again.

"Oh?" It took Weiss a minute, then her eyes widened. "Oh my gods," she turned around and blushed madly.

Ohhh, this can not be happening right now...

Yang outstretched her arm, holding out the shirt she'd picked off the floor and looking down again.

“Oh shit! I-I’m sorry, Weiss," she rambled again. "I was too caught up with the fate, tattoo, soulmate thing. I have all these undeniable feelings for you and just-“

Weiss ripped the shirt out of her hands and quickly threw it on. "Yang, shut up... it's ok. It's fine."

It wasn't really fine though, because she'd just kissed her soulmate for the first time, in a changing room, with her shirt off and she really wanted to do it again.

Yang cracked a grin. “Cause you liked it?”

The heiress rolled her eyes again. Trust Yang to go from thoughtful and respectful to flirtatious and teasing in a second. "Talk like that and it's never happening again."

"Hehe, nah, I know you can't resist Weissy."

Weiss sighed, looking away slightly. It was so annoyingly true and, although she was glad, she didn’t want to encourage Yang’s teasing. But, there was still the fact that she really couldn’t help herself.

"I can't," she replied honestly. "I have undeniable feelings for you too.”

Yang's demeanor changed again and she grabbed Weiss hand, unafraid this time.

“Does that make us…?” she asked, not sure if she should say it or have Weiss do it.

“Girlfriends?” Weiss finished for her.

Was it really that easy? Were they really together? Soulmates?

The heiress almost said no, but Yang's excited smile told her that they were, and that they would be for as long as they had each other.

Weiss nodded. "I suppose so."

And in a matter of seconds, Yang had her trapped in a bone crushing bear hug. "Well in that case, come to nationals with me." She said. “It’s gonna be held in Vacuo next weekend and we're allowed to bring a guest. I really wanted you to ask you before so I’m hoping that now—“

“Yes. I’ll go with you.” Weiss interrupted, but realising she sounded far too eager she added, “of course that’ll depend on if I have no prior engagements.”

Yang laughed. She could probably read through the heiress completely. “Oh, you agreed that quickly huh? Shame, I thought it’d take some more convincing…”

Her tone sounded almost promising and Weiss’ blush returned in full force at the implications.

“Are you seriously going to keep this up?” The heiress questioned as Yang pulled away.

“Umm, yeah. Cause I know you secretly love it.”

Weiss practically growled, because the blonde was right. First Blake, now Yang? Was she really that easy to read?

A change of subject was in order. “What about Ruby?”

“Oh you mean for nationals?” Yang smiled at her girlfriend knowingly. “Blake’s got that covered.”

[azuresquirrel]

WHAT UP PALS, I’M DOING A GOOFY LIVEBLOG OF THE FLASH mostly for the benefit of @spaceoperetta and whoever else finds me mildly amusing LET’S GO FAST.

EPISODE ONE.

Oh man I only watched one episode of Glee that this actor showed up in and but it’s going to take me a while to get used to him being Barry Allen and not that evil snot-nosed gay kiddo.

WHY HELLO THERE HAZY-FOCUSED IDYLLIC FLASHBACK OF TOTALLY DEAD MOM. WHAT A NEW AND GROUNDBREAKING SUPERHERO TROPE.

HI THERE DAWSON’S DAD WHO DIED FROM CAR ICE-CREAM (thank you forever lemedy for sending me that video)

And Barry’s mom was eaten by some CGI? I guess?

PRESENT DAY: Collins from Rent is investigating some shit with some jerkass who looks like the poor man’s Santino Fontana.

Oh great, Barry’s Sherlock I guess. JOY.

So Barry’s job is . . . CSI? BEING WILL GRAHAM? I never actually put thought into what Barry’s job was.

“your sad little nerdy dream” IRIS IS A QUEEN. “you look amazing’ and she eye-rolls at him. THAT BLACK JACKET WITH ROSES IS SOME GODDAMN UTENA DREAM AESTHETIC.

What city does this take place in? You know what, it doesn’t matter what city this takes place in, Barry definitely cannot afford whatever the rent is on this . . . apartment? Lab??

HARRISON WELLS APPEARS after extremely awkward relationship talk. I guess I should maybe not call him JD’s Gay Brother anymore.

BARRY YOU’RE NOT DOING A VERY GOOD JOB OF GOTTA GO FAST.

Awww, Barry’s got a little Charlie-conspiracy-board of his mom’s death. HEALTHY.

Yeah I’m pretty much paying no attention to the actual criminal plot/technoobabble about particle accelerators, I’M WAITING FOR MY SON.

Oh so NOW Barry’s going to be GOTTA GO FAST because of particle accelerator . . . lightning . . . which also maybe killed his mom/SENT HER TO THE SHADOW REALM. (I HOPE YOU’RE NOT HERE FOR ACCURACY)

MY SON!!!!! HE’S SINGING ALONG TO “POKERFACE.” HE TRULY IS MY SON.

Cisco is . . . looking at Barry . . . in a VERY not heterosexual way. While playing Lady Gaga tunes. Like. Dudes.

Also Catilin is here and I’ve taken it from others’ blogging that she gets a super raw deal on this show, but also her name is DR. SNOW like that’s badass.

Barry’s been in a coma for nine months = WOW SUBTLE REBIRTH SYMBOLISM THERE.

I know this is a pilot but this sure is GOTTA GO FAST-ing through the plot/premise.

“Your heart was going too fast for the EKG to register it.” I just fucking laughed. I’m not a scientist but WOW THIS SHOW.

Barry is learning how to GOTTA GO FAST while reuniting with Iris in a fucking coffeeshop, are we sure this isn’t just filmed fanfic?

Oh like that’s the bad guy or whatever. With the awesome power of FOOOOOOOOOG.

Barry just fucking VIBRATES HIMSELF INTO A CAR like jesus fucking Christ Barry, who allows you to do things by yourself.

And apparently in the space of a commercial break Barry goes to STAR Labs and says ‘HEY I HAVE A TERMINAL CASE OF GOTTA GO FAST’ and they set up a whole goddamn experiment and Cisco gets him into a fucking SKINTIGHT ROMPER????? LIKE????

(Cisco is 120% responsible for that outfit I will hear nothing otherwise)

Oh right so like . . . some time-travelling version of Harrison is TOTALLY the CGI that ate Barry’s mom right? I FORGET THE TIMELINE/TIMETRAVEL BULLSHIT ON THIS SHOW.

Okay so Badguy of the Week is supposedly white dude Storm but Storm is awesome so I’m sticking to this guy having the power of FOOOOOOOOOG.

Mmmmm this seems like a good time to bring up the traumatic murder of your mom that you’ve been obsessing over for at least a decade to a guy who TOTALLY isn’t the dude who murdered her.

Oh so I guess Iris is dating the dude who’s so boring that I literally blank out whenever he’s onscreen. PLEASE let this delaying the obvious endgame couple subplot not last long.

Iris is rocking these fucking great rose ensembles.

FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG.

I’m just saying we’re spending an awful lot of time on boring white dude side characters when we could have more CISCO.

Oh so I guess all of the Badguy/Monsters of the week were all caused by the ~particle excellerator~ doohickey.

Mmmm yeah the thing to do for a kid who just got out of a nine month coma is to yell “YOUR DAD KILLED YOUR MOM” in a public street the very next day. HELPING!

Metahumans, you mean BADGUYS OF THE WEEK.

Pffff all of Harrison’s looks in this scene of Barry yelling like an angry kitten are basically “JUST AS PLANNED.”

Oh shit so Momma Barry wasn’t eaten by CGI as THE WORLD’S WORST COPS LET AN 11-YEAR-OLD LIFT UP THE TARP COVERING HIS MOM’S BODY. CHRIST.

Am I supposed to know who this guy is? Is this Green Arrow? I DEEPLY DO NOT CARE. (it is Green Arrow. I STILL DO NOT CARE)

“You’re better because you can inspire your city in a way I never could” = my show sucks ass

Cisco’s face = “MY FANTASY THREESOME”

He . . . he literally made Barry’s suit. Like. Guys. GUYS.

This CGI tornado is basically “OH NO, IT’S COMING VERY SLOWLY TOWARDS US.”

Cisco: “Mmm yes I put a direct link to my line in your helmet. Because. Superhero reason. Those are the reasons. Yep.”

Cisco about a guy he met two days ago: “He can do it. I know he can do it.” Me: *looks into camera*

Harrison saying “I’m responsible for all of this” like he’s supposed to be contrite but he TOTALLY has an o-face right now.

IS BARRY GONNA DESTROY CGI TORNADO BY LITERALLY JUST FUCKING RUNNING AROUND IT? AMAZING.

“I don’t want you telling Iris about anything you can do. I want her safe.” WOOOOW THE MOST FUCKING ORIGINAL SUPERHERO TROPE IN THE WOOOOOOORLD.

SORRY BARRY THIS ISN’T GOING TO END WELL FOR YOUR DAD, JUST A HUNCH. THIS IS A CW SHOW, NOT ACE ATTORNEY.

Cisco literally adding bling to Barry’s suit while ironically wearing a Bazinga T-shirt = ICONIC.

Okay I’m taking The Flash liveblogging as mostly a goofy lark and don’t want to get all Discoursey and such but um . . . there are ways to show that Harrison is a duplicitous assholethat we should not trust WITHOUT doing the whole Faking a Disability trope. I’M JUST. THROWING THAT OUT THERE.

One episode down and my conclusions are that Iris is way too cool to be stuck in the “hero’s love interest CAN’T KNOW ABOUT SUPERHEROICS FOR HER OWN GOOD” plot and Cisco is my not-straight son and the true hero of this show.

[cescalr]

Hi can i request an au about stiles and malia being soulmates? Like both of them having the same mark or something idk i just love soulmates aus and i feel like they need one

I’m actually writing one, but since it’s a slow build thing and Malia’s not even in it yet, here’s another for ya! :D

In this world, magic is well known. How could it not be? A person has something descriptive regarding their soulmate magically tattoed onto their body once they meet them; it would be hard to ignore the fantastical nature of such an occurance.

In this world, because of this, werewolves are not hidden. Hunters are regulated and part of the police force, and therefore require the same background checks – though they are admittedly more like an army than anything else.

After all, if something like the Anuk-Ite got free, you couldn’t exactly arrest it now, could you?

So, in this world, various things didn’t happen. In this world, various things happened.

Some of them are unimportant. Many are, of course, in a background sense.

But some things stay the same.

Malia was still adopted.

Claudia still died.

They are similar people, if not the same. The dread doctors died years ago, for example, so there is no way for Donovan to be given enough power to be a danger.

(Creating betas is a regulated process, too. It requires you to be of age and sound of mind, because it is a life changing decision. It transforms you, forever, into something else. Something super-human in nature.)

For another, Malia’s mother was caught and killed a few months prior to Malia’s return to humanity. Perhaps this is why, in this world, she finds it easier to control her shift.

Or, perhaps it is that in this world, her father doesn’t think her crazy for ‘thinking’ she was a coyote for the past nine years.

(That, however, doesn’t stop him from not knowing what to do with her.)

Despite the world knowing about the supernatural, knowing about druids and shifters and beasts and banshees and the science of magic, that doesn’t stop the Nogitsune from being a danger.

It just stops Stiles from having to worry about people thinking he’s the one murdering people.

(But it does mean he’s more aware. There are mandatory classes about possession in every school, since the incident in ’02, ’19, ’21, ’34, ’40, and the incident at Oak Creek…)

Stiles puts himself away the second he puts two and two together.

Malia shows up two days into his stay. The nogitsune has been quiet, for now. He’s not sure why, but he’s not about to question it.

“Malia,” Stiles says, when he sees her at lunch. Scott’s been visiting, and due to the nature of Stiles’ detainment here, he was allowed to help with the investigation and rescue of the lost coyote girl.

(Eichen house is one of the relevant changes. As a facility for the supernatural to go if they are a danger to others, or for the possessed, or for the simply mentally ill, it has higher regulations than a lot of the other places in the world. In this universe, it’s actually quite nice.

Nobody has tried to commit suicide in the asylum and succeded – there is always that caveat you gloss over in the fine text, after all - since it opened. A record, considering it’s canon counterpart.)

Malia stares at him, and Stiles winces, scratches at his side.

“I’m Stiles. A friend of Scott’s…” He offers, hesitant. He’s never met Malia before; he didn’t promise to help and then abandon that promise.

Malia doesn’t punch him. She stares, quietly, then slides into the seat across from him.

“You know each other?”

“Not now, Oliver,” Stiles says, and Oliver quietens. He’s a nice enough guy, Stiles supposes, but he’s more dangerous than he seems.

“You know Scott?” Malia asks, simple.

Stiles nods. “He’s my best friend,” Stiles tells her, response automatic.

“He gave me a shirt.” Malia says. “I’ve still got it. I’ll give it to you once we’re out.”

Stiles blinks at her.

“It’s yours.” Malia says. “It smells like you.”

“Oh.” Stiles nods. “Okay, then. Sure.” He says.

Malia offers a smile. A small one; closed lipped and more of a quirk upwards, but it’s pretty all the same. Stiles smiles back, sort of.

His side is still bothering him, but Stiles ignores it.

(It’s probably nothing.)

(Obviously, it’s not nothing.)

Stiles has a session with Morrell that evening. Not for her French teacher side, or her psychiatrist side (though she can’t help but have that side show up in all aspects of her life, of course) but for her druidic one.

The one that was trained in how to deal with nogitsunes.

“Have you ever meditated before?” Morrell asks.

Stiles almost laughs. “ADHD, remember?” Stiles asks, rhetorically.

“You can still try,” Morrell says. “Because you need to. It’s either that or another ice bath.” She adds, pointedly.

“I think I’d prefer the ice bath,” Stiles grumbles, but he sighs and nods, acquiesces.  

“Copy me.” Morrell instructs, and sits across from him, cross-legged.

Stiles mimics her position.

“Take deep breaths,” Morrell says. “In for four, out for seven.”

Stiles does as she says.

“Close your eyes,” Morrell advises, and Stiles does so, because he wants to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

This is nothing he hasn’t done before, with various other psychiatrists. Clinically diagnosed anxiety usually means they’ll try and find calming techniques – Stiles never really did well with the ones that required he just sit there, because those let him think.

“Visualise an empty room. It stretches on for miles, and it’s a blank, white canvas…” Morrell says, voice smooth, and Stiles lets it wash over him as he does so – and if there’s one thing Stiles is good at, it’s imagining things that aren’t real.

Stiles can’t exactly visualise nothingness, though. He uses the ice bath induced shared headspace as a template, and works from there.

“Now visualise it building up,” Morrell says, “Let it build itself. What kind of room do you see?”

Stiles still sees the blank shared headspace, but he simply lets his mind wander, for a moment. The room shrinks; the walls close in and the ceiling lowers.

“My bedroom,” Stiles says. “There are cork boards everywhere. String connecting blurred pictures, a couch where my bed should be.”

“Good.” Morrell says. “Now… sleep.”

She doesn’t say sleep, of course. But that’s what Stiles hears, and that’s what he does.

Morrell lowers the teen onto the floor and tidies up her supplies, then returns to her desk.

“Enter,” She calls, and Malia comes in, shuts the door behind herself.

“Good,” Morrell nods. “You remember basic manners.”

Malia scoffs and sits down, frowns petulantly across at Morrell.

“Have you had any troubles with shifting recently? Morrell asks, straight to the point.

Malia seems distracted, head tilted as she quite obviously sniffs the air.

“Stiles is here,” She says. “Or was here.” Malia glances around the room, and narrows her eyes, sniffs the air once more.

“Why is he behind your desk?” Malia asks, unconcerned for the most part, but there is a line between her brows one might call worry if they were feeling generous.

“Meditating,” Morrell says. “Now, back to you. Have you had trouble shifting?” Morrell repeats, and Malia seems mollified as she relaxes back into her seat, and shrugs. “I can’t,” Malia says, and Morrell leans forwards; concerned, intrigued. “I see,” Morrell murmurs.

“Well,” Morrell nods. “Hold out your hand,” She instructs, and Malia does so, if reluctantly.

“As a werecoyote, your fingernails should transform into claws at your command.” Morrell says. “Those who are more in control can even do individual nails. Or, of course, those who are more desperate.”

Malia nods. “So what do I do?” She asks, eager to learn. This Malia is no less eager to return to her coyote form than the one from before – This Malia knows her birth mother was an assassin and is dead and that her birth father had no idea she existed because her biological aunt removed all memories of her from him, and that doesn’t exactly warm her to humanity.

But her bio dad promised to visit, and to introduce her to her cousins, and Talia has been instructed to stay the hell away from my family because even in this world, Peter and Talia do not get along. So Malia has something to hold onto, at least, and it’s healthier than a hook-up in the basement of a mental institution.

(Not that that isn’t going to happen. But that that will be much healthier than it was in canon.)

“Concentrate,” Morrell instructs. “Focus on turning your fingernails into claws.”

Malia tries, and she tries really hard, but nothing happens.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” Morrell nods, and Malia takes that as her cue to leave, but she hesitates.

“Is he okay?” Malia asks, and it’s slightly awkward but Morrell mentally smiles because it means the girl didn’t loose her ability to feel concern for other people during her time with the brain of a coyote.

“He will be,” Morrell tells her, because that is true.

Malia takes this answer and nods, then is gone through the door before anything else can be said.

Morrell turns back to Stiles, and waits.

Stiles is in this facsimile of his bedroom, with it’s odd couch and blurry photographs, and he’s siting there, staring at the door.

The door that’s ajar. Open.

He needs to close it, but he can’t close it with the Nogitsune in here. He needs to kick the nogitsune out the door, and then lock it. Lock it tight, so nothing else can ever get in here ever again.

He doesn’t want to hurt his friends.

Stiles stands and looks around the room, drags his fingers along the red string as he walks towards the cork board on the left.

He’s got to start somewhere, after all.

It doesn’t take too long to find a discrepancy.

Stiles finds a yearbook; in it, there are photos of people he knows, with their names and a quote that sounds like Stiles’ thoughts about them written underneath.

‘punchable-y pretty’ Is under a few people, and Stiles rolls his eyes at himself.

Stiles finds the discrepancy on the fourth-to-last page. He would have missed it if he’d have flicked over a page further than he had.

Stiles resolves to not flick through books after this. You might miss something important.

Stiles picks at the corner of a photo of a person he doesn’t recognise.

Corporal Rhys.

A dead man tells no tales.

Literally what the shit? Stiles frowns, and peels off the photo, then nearly drops the book.

Stiles does drop the book when he realises the fly isn’t a picture, but he grabs the creature before it can move, squeezes it hard in his palm.

The nogitsune is a fly. Small, unassuming. Something ignorable.

Stiles has decided he despises flies. Fuck ‘em.

Stiles pointedly ignores the struggles of the fly in his palm – he simply crushes it harder and stomps over to the door, then shoves it through and slams it shut, pulls the deadbolt across and locks it, then steps back.

Stiles nods, returns to the couch, and lies down.

Job done.

It took a long time for that technique for nogitsune removal to be discovered. It’s not the be all and end all; there are some side effects. After all, the nogitsune was just ripped out, but the stuff it altered still remains, there’s just no evil fly there to hold the reigns.

Still. Stiles wouldn’t find that out for a long time – perhaps never, if he were so lucky as to never kill anyone.

(In this world, that happens more often than people like to admit.)

Stiles sits up, groggy and tired, and heavy-feeling.

“I take it the nogitsune is gone?” Morrell asks, and Stiles nods, hesitant but hopeful, in a way he hasn’t been for a while.

It took a long time for the hunters to realise Gerard was rogue, and that he’d converted a lot of their better agents, like Kate and Victoria. Even Allison, for a short time, but she was young, and forgivable. After all, he’d manipulated her via the use of her mother’s death, and she wasn’t technically a hunter yet. You couldn’t exactly put all the blame on her shoulders for that.

Kate and Victoria are dead. That’s usually what happens when you work with the kind of person Gerard is.

Funny, that the bite he wanted ultimately killed him, but not before he could kill his accomplices.

(Still. Stiles isn’t exactly complaining, as bad as it sounds. He knows what it’s like to loose your mother, after all, so maybe he should be more sympathetic, but it’s a little difficult when she looked the other way while her husband’s father was beating you up and torturing your friends with electricity. Even helped, to an extent.)

“Then we’re done here.” Morrell says. “You are still booked in here for at least another week, however.”

“Why?” Stiles asks. “Because that’s when the amount of time you’ve paid for runs out.” Morrell says.

“Oh.” Stiles nods. “… I guess we don’t get a refund for the days we don’t use, huh?”

“No.” Morrell says, flatly. “Also,” She adds, and takes some bottles from her drawer. “Your prescripton.”

Stiles nods in thanks, grateful, and takes the bottles. “Make sure you take the correct amount,” Morrell warns. “No more, no less.”

Stiles nods, knowing full well that once he’s out of here he’s not going to have the luxury of doing that so he’s gonna simply take what he can get, and goes to leave the room.

“Be careful,” Morrell says. “And make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Stiles doesn’t bother replying, he simply leaves the room.

“Why are you still here, then?” Malia asks, the next morning.

“What?” Stiles blinks, says through a mouthful of food, then hastily swallows. “What?” He repeats, clearer.

“Why are you still here, since Morrell said you’re clear,” Malia repeats, states.

“Oh,” Stiles shrugs. “Well, for one the money we payed for this isn’t going to magically reappear, so I might as well stay for the rest of the time, you know, just in case,” Stiles tells her.

Malia nods and resumes eating her food, a slight wrinkle to her nose showing her distaste for it.

“Don’t like the food?” Stiles asks.

“I miss deer,” Malia says, glumly, through her mush. Stiles isn’t exactly sure what the food is, but it’s about as good as the food in the canteen, which is to say it’s fucking shit.

“Venison,” Stiles says, absently.

“What now?” Malia asks, and stiles shrugs. “The meat you get from deer. Venison.”

“Oh.” Malia blinks. “Well, I miss that, then.”

Stiles nods, and the two continue eating in what is a surprisingly comfortable slience, considering their lack of familiarity with one another and the place they’re in.

Well. To be fair, Stiles has been here for at least a week or so. Malia’s only been here for a couple days.

That night, Stiles finds Malia in the boys’ shower room.

“Uhm.” Stiles says, then turns around. Oh, but there’s mirrors. He turns, and faces the door, and definitely doesn’t look at her in his peripheral vision.

There are some words on her shoulder blade, but there’s too much steam. Really, Stiles can’t see anything.

“Stiles I – don’t care,” Malia says, as if she can’t see why he would think she would, or why he might think she should.

“Oh?” Stiles asks, unsure of what to say.

“There aren’t boys and girls’ rooms in the woods,” Malia says, and Stiles knows that, obviously.

“Well, why are you in here, anyway?” Stiles asks. “Why not the girls’ room?”

“Because it’s cold in there.” Malia says. “And it’s hot in here.”

“I think the steam makes that obvious,” Stiles says, and he can’t see it, but Malia smiles.

“Yeah,” She says. Stiles winces.

“So, uh –” Stiles starts, but he doesn’t finish, as Malia chooses then to finish showering and simply walk out into the main area, blasé as you please, completely and utterly naked.

“Uh.” Stiles says, scratches the side of his head.

“Now you’re staring,” Malia points out – almost teasingly, but it’s a little too matter-of-fact for that.

“No,” Stiles denies, looks away.

“Look,” Malia says. “We’re both in a place we don’t actually need to be right now, and I’m bored.” She shrugs.

“… The basement’s off limits?” Stiles offers, and Malia smiles.

second part gonna be over on my AO3 once I’ve done it! 

[salty-dracon]

SECRET Agents- Our Revenge

An AU where Angel’s final plan goes off without a hitch. Everyone is dead. Bad shit. Some torture detailed below. 

“Kronus, you’ve got a visitor.” 

“Who?“ Kronus asked, looking up at the speaker. 

“Oliver Perch. Your CTO.“

Kronus growled under his breath. “Bring the man in. And bring bodyguards.” He stood up and faced the camera. “He’s dangerous.”

On the other side of the screen, Oliver smiled. “He has no reason to fear,” Oliver said, touching the screen with his finger. “His death is not my object.”

“Do you consent to bodyguards, sir?“

“No.“ Oliver turned to the warden and tilted his chin towards him. His eyes began to glow a hypnotic red. “Kronus never asked for bodyguards, you fool. You will let me in with him, alone, and you will not listen in on our conversation.“

“Of course, Mr. Perch.“

“Thank you.“ Oliver smiled as the glow subsided. “You will let me out when I tap on the cell door three times.“

“Got it.“

“Good.“

-----

The cell door slid open. Oliver’s footsteps reverberated off the walls. 

“Rather nice cell you have here,“ Oliver said. “Painted walls, carpeted floor, internet access... “ He smiled at Kronus, who was sitting on the bed. “I expected as much.”

“Where are the bodyguards I asked for?” Kronus asked. “I asked for bodyguards!“

“And I told them not to bring any.“

“Bullshit! They should listen to me!“

“I wonder why they didn’t?“ He chuckled softly. “Oh, Kronus. You old fool. You still haven’t made the connection?“

“What connection?“ Kronus asked. “What are you talking about?“

“Over the past many years, children went missing all over the country at the hands of one named the Dark Angel. Over the past two, their kidnappings have been centered in Rubicon City. They have been mostly the children of superheroes. I wonder why that is?“

“What are you saying?“

“Those same children turned up in an old facility not far from the city, where they were being held, with the promise of being tested on. Every last one was a child kidnapped by the Angel.“

“Are you saying I’m the Dark Angel?!“ he exclaimed. “I told them a million times, I’m not! But there’s something in my bloodstream- some kind of parasite- it gives me the Angel’s powers-”

“Why do you think it’s there?“ 

Kronus’s eyes widened. “Wait... I knew you framed me, but... there’s no way... “

“There we go. Seems you’ve finally caught on.“ Oliver smiled. “The Dark Angel of Rubicon City is none other than me, your CTO.“

“Then... you kidnapped all those kids-“

“Yes.“

“And killed all those people-“

“Yes.“

“And all those heroes-“

“Yes.“

“And killed those other kids, the superhero ones-“

“Yes.“

“All.... to get revenge on me?“

“Of course.“ Oliver smiled. “Honestly, I’m amazed it all worked out. Karma must have been on my side all the time. I even got my own slice of pleasure out of the affair. The chance to mutilate the boy’s friends in front of him.“ Oliver sighed. “I couldn’t even hear their screams over his. I recorded all eight hours of the torture, before I snuffed his life out myself.“ 

“The... boy?“ Kronus asked. 

“Amplify. You asked your son to investigate him. I guess you could say we have a history. Does it even matter anymore? He’s finally dead.“

“Then those kids in the facility... “ Kronus covered his mouth. “You tortured and killed them all?“

“Yes.“ Oliver smiled. “I can tell you the details if you wish. Give you more material for the police. I can tell you that one of the girls- Dove, the Chinese one- didn’t scream at all while I cut her fingers off. She only cried. It was a pity, really. She kept telling me it was okay, it was what she deserved. I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with her, but by the time I realized it, she had already bled out. Her friend Allie was the next to go. She was the loudest. She just yelled and screamed revenge, and begged me to stop, to not hurt any of the others. I did the same thing to her. She was a little more resilient, though, so I knocked her head against the floor until she suffered enough brain damage to die. Next was Kat, and I broke her jaw, and before I could-“ 

“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.“

“Don’t tell me you have a heart, Kronus?“ Oliver gasped. “A heart for the poor girls and boys you mutilated?“

“You killed them, you psychopath!“

“Yes, I killed them. But wasn’t it really you? I remember the names of the others you mutilated. Kevin, age 12. Stabbed through the stomach with a sword. Verity, age 10. Shot. They were third and fourth place respectively in the game of 18 years ago. And hundreds of others I will never know the names of. They all died at your command, didn’t they? And I became their avenger. The kids I killed were just an obstacle in my revenge against you. You killed them all.“

“I’m not the one who killed them! That was my father! That was Malthus! Why don’t you take his revenge on him?!”

“Ah, yes, your father. Interestingly enough, I looked into the matter. The news was that he died around 18 years ago. Once I became CTO, I learned the truth. He stayed alive for much longer, actually... around nine years longer. Did you know this?” 

“Yes, but-“

“His supposed deathdate was the day he slipped into some form of coma. His body was at this point a useless lump of flesh and bone, unable to move. However, his doctors could register his brainwaves... but over time, they began to fade. Brainwaves related to his movement, his memories, his morality, his senses... all faded over time. The only wave that didn’t fade was pain. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t cry for help, or speak. His condition made it impossible for him to build up resistance. He couldn’t remember a day without the pain. But all he felt was pain. A deep, searing pain.”

“You could have killed him. You must have been working for us at that point.“

“You’re correct. I was. I never touched him, though. I had no need to. He was already being punished. Every man who looked upon him looked with pity. It does not surprise me. Nine years of burning pain, to which none can aid you- to which no aspect of the human heart can save you. Is that not the very definition of hell?“ Oliver laughed. “I wonder if hell itself will be even twice as painful.“

“You could have made it worse for him.“

“Would it have made a difference?“ Oliver asked. “His hubris was his downfall. That’s how I liked to think about it.“

“Then why go after me?“

“Specifically because you are guilty of cruelty. Had you released us from your father’s grasp, we would have been ever grateful. You chose not to. You could have, then, chosen to euthanize us. You could have allowed us a peaceful death, among our innocent friends. You could have even allowed me and my sister to die together, in each others’ arms. We would not have objected. But you instead made us your pawns in a game. Like a game show or football bracket, you forced us to duel against each other. To discard our innocence and kill the very people who were our only allies in that hellscape. And despite the labeling of it as a ‘game’, you were the sole spectator. Two hundred died cruelly, at the hands of their friends, because of you. For that, I sought to punish you. To avenge the two hundred who died painfully and hopelessly, all for your own entertainment.“

“I can’t change that.“

“You could have. You were old enough to.“

“Nick would have done the same.“

“Would he?“ Angel chuckled. “Perhaps without my guidance.“

“Nick is not your son!“

“Your son despises you. He despises you as much as he despises me. To him, you are an unfeeling tyrant. To him, I am an unfeeling killer. Nevertheless, it has been a pleasure to watch the boy grow up, from a timid little child to a strong leader. With you behind bars, he can finally take his role as CEO of Kronus Tech.“

“Have you forgotten? He’s too young!“

“Yes. And you have made me next in line before your son ascends to the throne. I, of course, will do my best for him. I will act according to his wishes, and on his behalf. Once he graduates with a master’s degree in business, I will step down and allow him to take charge. In the end, your son will knock your empire to the ground. He will use Kronus Tech as a beacon of kindness and aid for all the world’s people. He will be nothing like you.“ 

“And that’s your revenge?“ Kronus asked. “To hijack my company, frame me for all of your murders, and turn my son into someone else? You’re such a coward, Oliver.“ 

“Am I?“ Oliver smiled. “I should think myself quite intelligent.“

“You did all of that, and still won’t kill me in prison.“ Kronus laughed. “You killed hundreds of regular old moms and dads, but you can’t kill me, the reason you did everything!“

“Right now, Kronus, you’re quite like your father.“ Oliver reached for the door. “Remember what I said about him? He was unable to move. No matter how hard he screamed, he would not be heard. No matter how he tried, he could not move.“ Oliver tapped three times on the cell door. “His torture was that of hell. An unceasing, agonizing pain, for which he could not even remember the reason. Your torture is quite the opposite. You know what you did. You will forever know what you did. You will ever be forced to reflect on it. And forever will I watch over you, with not the gaze of pity, but that of spite. Should you try to escape, I will put you back where you belong. One too many times, and... we’ll see, won’t we?“ He exited the room and closed the cage behind him.

Kronus stared at the door, his heart pounding. He backed up against the bed and laid down. 

“Oliver... “

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

-

alright, we’re here live with phoenix wright at temple temple 

lets see where we go.

-

aw he’s worried about maya. thank god someone is.

-

“I didn’t come all the way to khura’in to be useless”

prove it, edgey

-

oh its one of those lady gaga guards again

Lah’kee. aww cute

-

“I advise you accept the invitation”

well he can’t really decline it, miles.

Also “Lakhee” haha. at least edgeworth’s ability to mess up names is still here.

-

hm i wonder how she’s really spying on everyone. something ridiculous no doubt. 

-

oooh the ‘audience chamber’

i smell a cutscene 

-

ooh i was right

kinda

-

“this place is still as magnificent as last time”

wait what do you mean last time

it was listed as a new location in the map

-

“looks like you’re doing well”

damnit nick you made me laugh.

-

phoenix now has ‘bludgeoned by child’ to add to his list of stuff he’s survived 

-

we’ve already established that you cant get spiritual power from the orb unless you’re a medium already. come on now.

-

“For in Khura’in, only those who possess spiritual power may sit on the throne” 

uh im all for feminism and that but you might wanna open your king or queenitude to a wider and possibly more qualified range of people. 

i mean spirit mediums are awesome and all but summoning ghosts does not necessarily make you a good politician. 

-

“But the queen seems almost giddy for someone who’s husband was just murdered”

well I'm glad you told me that, phoenix, because i cannot fucking tell on her flat ass face

-

poor rayfa... she’s really grown on me. i hope she’ll be okay.

-

hmm. something just happened that i *think* should have tripped the magatama... but who cares. nothing works anymore.

-

“When it turned out Dhurke was forging evidence the people were devastated, and trust in the legal system plummeted”

anD THUS BEGAN THE DARK AGE OF THE 

NO

NO NON O NON NOOOOOO WE LEFT THAT BEHIND IN DD DO NOT BRING IT BACK.

-

“We have the divination seance, so we don’t need lawyers anymore”

yeah you also don’t need prosecutors anymore either. all you need is a judge to go “huh, looks legit” and into the slammer they go.

...and yet... and yet...

-

WHOA WHAT

SHE MOVES?!

also thats literally Morgan’s laugh but flipped. She’s evil. 

-

“it’s missing? I'm sure Dhurke had it when he went into the tomb”

why is phoenix so fucking stupid when he goes to kooraheen. its like when he sets foot on their soil his brain just drops every single shred of self preservation it once had. i mean i know he used to show evidence to blatant criminals but like, at least he had misgivings about doing it.

-

“From his odd hairstyle, may we assume him to be a relative? Perhaps, your younger brother?”

‘no, he’s my son.’

haha but in all seriousness considering Jove’s facial similarity to phoenix and the amount of shoehorned backstory for Apollo, they could pretty damn well be related.

-

wow. not only does phoenix yell EW NO HES NOT RELATED TO ME but he /also/ lets slip that he’s related to Dhurke. You know. Right in front of the queen who hates the living shit out of Dhurke.

Thanks for draining my baby’s braincells, SOJ......

-

“whats she whispering to that guard?”

oh i dunno nick maybe something about that thing you said about Apollo being related to the queen’s ARCH NEMESIS.

GOOD FUCKING LORD.

-

“That’s one swanky throne. I wouldn't mind taking a seat there myself.”

the audacity. and yet i love him for it.

“The jester and the crown. I imagine it’d make quite the interesting picture”

Ouuuch

“You know, Edgeworth, I hate to say this, but you’re absolutely right.”

he’s remembering that time he got all doe eyed over Dhurke’s mouldy jacket. 

-

why is the bazaar also a new area

we’ve been there before

-

...oh. warbaads sound like lions?? the fuck????

its a form of mimicry? to protect against predators??

when did he learn this again?!

-

oh god. of course. of course it would be Vore Machine who makes a fucking gunshot noise in the middle of a crowded area.

brilliant.

-

“since more people are joining us, ive decided to employ something that sounds like a gunshot to scare the fuck outta them!’

flawless strategy as always, dingel.

-

“What with the murder/suicide!”

he shouts with a huge grin

“Hopefully this means Tahrust’s death won’t be in vain after all”

GOD. even brain dead nick noticed it was abso-fuckin’-lutely pointless.

-

“see, i give my fellow rebels things that sound like gunshots, that will of course draw attention AWAY from them. yes, the loud noise things will definitely ward OFF the royal guards” genius.

-

“those firecrackers are more useful than i thought”

yeah because he used one on a fucking vulnerable child. maybe try it again when the actual trained police are on your tail, see how well that turns out for you. 

also fuck you Datz.

-

aw i love Rayfa and Nick’s interactions. She’s adorable and he humours her so much. It’s sweet. 

this is genuine by the way; its the highlight of the kooraheen cases for me. as i said Rayfa’s really grown on me. she was annoying at first but now it’s just kinda... cute?

-

“But hearing her all alone I... I can’t help but think of Trucy”

OW

OW

OW

OW

-

“it’s as if your brain-to-mouth filter shuts off the second you step out of the courtroom” 

oh man edge. you'd be snacking on your words if you saw his internal monologue. 

-

phoenix: men are messy. i am messy. 

-

where IS nayna...

in other news, Phoenix continues to dad at Rayfa

-

(weeping) oh god Rayfa’s so cute

please be kind to her pleaaase

-

(rayfa seems really worried for Nayna...)

yea maybe you should do something about that nick

-

Phoenix: rayfs maybe you uhh shouldnt do the divination thing i can do that

wehhh protect her nick

god she’s even feeling bad for being a brat. please just give her a hug or something, jeez;

-

i know its just a call back but how /did/ he get his hands on some J’suis Lebelle?

-

“I like my natural stress-grey very much ,thank you!”

-

“Do you suppose if I slept on it, I could see my father once more?”

OW

WHAT THE FUCK SOJ

obviously phoenix agrees with me. jesus.

-

shdgah i thought the notepad was a sandwich 

-

Huh! Inga was face-blind. who knew?

i kid, i kid. its probably related to queenbean’s magic surveillance shit 

-

hehehe everybody luuuurves edgeworth

-

Phoenix: drugs??? oh no I'm a cool kid. say no

(steals drugs)

-

n’awww. her birfday was the safe code. i guess even bad men love their daughters.

OH AND HER BABY LETTERS IN THERE TOO AHH

-

(yells) gfakgkkajafksj THERE’S AN ‘ASSASSINATION PLAN”

GOD

fake. fake fake fake. fake as fuck.

people don’t write little “my evil plan” notes to themselves. 

-

Rayfa: *sees picture of someone other than her mother holding her as a baby* MY WHOLE LIFE IS A LIIIIIIIE

-

“I wonder what’s afoot?”

THE GAME, EDGEWORTH, THE GAME!!!

-

Edgeworth’s bitten by a fuckin dog and he STILL Cant manage a human emotion. good lord.

-

hmm. i know that was supposed to be comedic but the lack of visuals really kinda dampened the thing.

...plus, to choke edgeworth, the pressure would need to be applied to the front of his neck, not the back, and since the dog is on the front, it cant have choked him. it couldn’t have even pulled the “cravat” tighter because it’s not actually tied up.

(sigh) oh whatever.

-

Datz, emerging from a manhole to recruit 

-

Wow Datz sure loves to scare the shit out of children. What a class act.

“HAHA FUCK YOU KID, I HOPE YOUR DOG’S LOST FOREVER AND MAYBE DIES”

SUCH a class act.

-

“Ahlbi’s not exactly the picture of self restraint...”

phoenix he’s nine

-

“I worry about his future sometimes...”

of course you do, dad ;)

-

“You cant go trespassing like that, even if it’s for a good cause; it’s just not right!”

hey, trilogy and AJ nick would say otherwise, old man. you use to be cool. and interested in doing bad things for good ends.

-

weird haircut - friend of phoenix 

-

“a big orange spider leg” AHLBI 

he's right, but he shouldn’t say it!

-

“they were being pursued by royal guards!”

:) hey phoenix :) maybe next time dont tell the queen :) that they’re involved with her mortal enemy :) maybe :)))))

-

alright and that’s part 2 of the investigation over. apparently there’s a part 3? they sure are breaking the established time codes for cases in this game... oh well! stay tuned for the next time!

[charmingturkeysandwich]

Knock, Knock Ch. 25: New Beginnings

Full disclosure: I literally just got off an actual real life pirate ship excursion and I might be a little drunk. But I wrote this sober, promise! I hope you enjoy this chapter - things are definitely wrapping up for our pirating lovebirds.

Read on AO3.

Read from the beginning on Tumblr.

Recovery wasn’t like it was in the movies and TV shows. Well, not in the happy ones at least.

Emma was miserable a lot of the time. Her voice was mostly back to normal, but the aching in her chest was still pretty severe. The burns she and Belle had suffered were admittedly minor by comparison to what they could have been, but they still hurt like a bitch (and didn’t look very aesthetically pleasing either).

And the pain. Ugh. The pain was nearly constant. She’d stopped taking the pills the doctor had given her – the addiction videos did their proper job of scaring the living daylights out of her – but now she was left at a constant 6-7/10 pain scale (definitely the level of one of the miserable looking emojis) and it was negatively impacting just about every part of her life.

“For God’s sake, Emma, is there any meal you will eat?!” David snapped at her, deeply frustrated by her current distaste for all food that wasn’t ice cream, frozen yogurt, or milkshakes.

“Sorry, dad, I’m just not feeling lasagna today. Especially not since you most definitely just bought this from Granny.”

“Well my pregnant wife and I got sick of putting in so much effort to try to cook you delicious, homemade meals just to have you turn your nose up at them! I know you’re going through a lot, Emma, but, quite honestly, you’re acting like a toddler. Mary Margaret and I are happy to have you here and we love you but I swear to God if you don’t eat this lasagna I’m going to throw it at you.”

Yeah, most people were at their breaking point with her.

Killian was the most patient, of course, but he’d finally broken just the day before. And what a delightful break that was (sarcasm).

You see, if this had been some movie, then Emma would have done some rehab to the tune of a quirky alternative rock song, would have had some montage where she slowly healed and Killian helped her do things while she beamed with her incandescent love, and most importantly she would have been on his fucking boat when he finally needed to get down to business (and not to defeat the Huns).

Ever since she woke up in the hospital she’d been dreaming of that first piratey excursion they’d have after her recovery. She’d probably have some bandages but play it off like it was all part of the costume. It would be fulfilling. Triumphant. It would make her forget how fucking stupid she could be sometimes and how that affected the people around her.

But no. The meds had made her loopy and the lack of meds had made her cranky. Saltwater hitting her wounds was a super ouchy – she discovered that just sitting at the goddamn docks, no less – and it turned out the rocking of the boat was something that really angered her severely battered insides.

So, yeah. Killian had to get back to work, had to execute some of her meticulously crafted plans – without her.

Today was the first one. It was the start of a weeklong camp, and Emma had been so excited for it. They were going to cover the history of the town, the types of creatures in the waters below them. And most importantly, they were going to tell stories. In trying to figure out how exactly to make these summer kid-adventures more interesting (and different from things they already offered), Emma wracked her brain about what really appeals to kids – what they want and what they need.

She’d had a shit life. Obviously. Well, most of it, anyway. But as is true with anyone, she still had those bright spots in her life that shone through all the darkness. Oddly enough, most of them involved fiction.

That’s what hit her. The reason that Killian’s pirate ship tours were so interesting wasn’t because people were interested in actual pirates – no, historically they were rapists, murderers, and thieves with halitosis and scurvy. What people were interested in were the stories. The folk legends. The fairy tales. So on the last two days of this camp, Killian would tell stories of his own – fake ones, of course, as Belle had already done a lesson on the “real” pirates of the region – and then the kids would create their own.

It’s something Emma had done a lot. Not in a controlled, educational setting, of course. More like while hiding in the woods from her abusive, mentally unstable foster father who was threatening to kill her and all the kids with a sawed off shotgun. But it was the same concept. We’re fascinated by fantastical things, fictional adventures, but when it comes down to it, we have all the ability inside us to create our own worlds and stories. And that’s something really powerful for kids – even the ones who aren’t damaged beyond all belief.

You could say Emma was bitter the night before Killian’s camp began, seeing as she wouldn’t be participating. In fact, the pregnant lady was going in her place, because apparently growing a child allowed you more capabilities than her own predicament did.

So she may have started a fight with Killian just before bed.

Despite it being less than 24 hours prior to her lasagna refusal, the details of the encounter were escaping her. What she didn’t forget, however, was Killian’s meltdown. It went something to the tune of you’re the one who put yourself in danger and tried to fucking leave me and you think you get to hold the burning building card forever, well I’ve got the same card in my pocket and I love you so much I can’t even put it into words but funny enough I have a lot of words for you right now that have nothing to do with love.

Emma reacted like a brat, which wasn’t fair. And Killian didn’t call her a brat – or any other b word for that matter – but she could see it in his eyes.

It was so damn frustrating not recovering quickly. Why couldn’t she just be Buffy Summers? Ugh. That’s right. Thinking she was Buffy Summers is exactly what got her into this mess in the first place.

(Non-slayers should probably await the firefighters’ assistance when exiting a burning building. She’s learned her lesson. Please, no more lectures.)

“Emma!” David’s voice boomed, bringing her out of her bitter reverie.

“What?” (She sounded like a sullen teenager, even to herself.)

“I’m giving you ten seconds to start eating that lasagna. One.”

“Or what, you’ll burn all my stuff? Too late. ”

“Two.”

“David, I’m not a child!”

“Three.”

“Seriously, you need to stop this.”

“Four.”

“You realize your kid isn’t even born yet, and you’ll already an annoying father.”

“Five.”

“You’re really not going to give this up, are you?”

“Six.”

“I’m going to text your wife and tell her you’re having some kind of pre-baby meltdown.”

“Seven.”

“Remember how I have serious injuries?!”

“Eight.”

“Burns and scrapes and sprains!”

“Nine.”

Emma crossed her arms and stared, I dare you written across her eyes.

“Ten.”

Before Emma could open her mouth to triumphantly declare having called David’s bluff, he reached over the table, picked her slice of lasagna up off her plate –

–  and (gently) smashed it onto her skull.

“What the hell?!”

“I warned you. Now go clean up while I cut you another piece. That you’ll fucking eat this time.”

David wasn’t one to swear very often. He was very Steve Rodgers about it all.

But Emma had broken him. Just like she’d broken everyone else.

-

The kids couldn’t have been happier. It was a lovely summer day – the storms of the weekend had given the coast the drink it desperately needed, so the flowers were blooming bright and the trees and grasses were greener than ever. The fish were jumping and the birds were cawing and there couldn’t possibly be a single thing missing in that perfect day.

You know, except his pirate princess of a partner.

She was feeling like shit. And he was trying so hard to just let her work through it all herself. Her guilt about everything was tangible, her mild regret about her heroics constantly on her mind – especially when it came to the limitations it was currently imposing on her. He knew that she was being a bitch because she was in pain and missing out on things and sorely unable to take the next step they’d promised each other because of her slow progress.

But there was only so much a man could take.

He regretting yelling at her. Why it had turned to a fight the previous night, he really couldn’t be sure. But he’d been bottling some bitter of his own and the thing about pushing down your feelings is that they inevitably come bursting out. Generally at a most inopportune moment.

So Emma had slept on the pull-out couch rather than in the guest room (their room), and he’d left in the morning before she’d awoken, and now he was on his ship carrying out her wonderful plans, all without her.

Mary Margaret could tell he was only half there. She was picking up a lot of his slack like a damn champ. She was answering all the kids’ questions and keeping them excited, even when Killian had clearly been somewhere else in his head. He was endlessly grateful for the fairer Nolan for putting her child-corralling expertise into practice while he… gathered his bearings.

He’d get through today. He’d put on a great show for the kids, make sure they learned something and were excited for tomorrow, and then he’d get home and fix things with his admittedly still ailing princess.

Deep breaths.

-

After washing her hair (and changing her shirt), Emma quietly walked back to the kitchen, sat down at her place at the table, and ate two full pieces of lasagna without a word. David just stood there, arms crossed, looking at everything but Emma (while clearly also keeping an eye on her in his periphery to make sure she wasn’t tossing scraps in the trash).

With the newspaper already opened in front of her, Emma started browsing. The police reports were always fun – small seaside towns had some quirky little problems, to be sure – but it was the Classifieds that caught her attention most.

Especially the 2-bedroom house for rent just a couple of blocks from where Killian kept his ship. It was so close to the water that they could probably see the shore from the upstairs. Was that where the bedrooms were? Could Emma get so lucky as to live in a house overlooking the sea with her perfect pirate prince?

(Her life was never this easy.)

It was around one in the afternoon, so Mary Margaret and Killian wouldn’t be home for at least another three hours – more if the kids really wreaked havoc on the ship (hopefully not). And David didn’t have to go into work until 7 (he was doing overnights since Emma needed someone with her in the daytime, yes, like a fucking child).

She shouldn’t be asking David for any favors, but this one was probably acceptable. Because it was a big step and hopefully at least somewhat proof that Emma could do more than brood (and yell at the people who love her).

“Hey, do you think we could swing by this house? Pretty please?”

“Not until you shower. You still smell like marinara.” When Emma finally met David’s eyes, they softened and his scowl gave way to a smirk. (Guess she only broke him momentarily).

 The house wasn’t that far from the Nolans’ so they were there by two that afternoon. And as luck would have it, the agent was having an open house until three. So after staring at it from the outside for far too long (she still had some fear, OK?), David and Emma walked up to the door and knocked.

“Hello! Are you folks interested in the house?” A bright-eyed redhead (who wore far too much green) greeted them, ushering them into the foyer.

She was struck by the… cuteness of the place. It wasn’t the vast, column-adorned mansion type. And it wasn’t a cottage in the woods. But it was homey. It was sweet.

And why the fuck was it just for rent?

“Uh, well, yeah. I mean I’m interested in the house. This is my… brother. He’s just, um, helping me.” Emma unconsciously tugged at one of her bandages, suddenly feeling awkward about needing a chaperone. But the woman seemed to realize immediately who she was.

“Oh my goodness! You’re Emma Swan, aren’t you? The girl who tried to save the meth head?”

“Uh, I think it was PCP, but yeah. That’s me. Hence the bodyguard. Sorry.”

“Goodness, no, don’t be sorry. I suppose I should be sorry for being so forward. I do hope you’re recovering well.” She extended her hand and offered another, more sincere smile. “I’m Zelena.”

What a name. “Nice to meet you. This is David. He’s here to stop me from running toward fire. At least until these heal.”

“It really was a wonderful thing you did. It seems Jefferson is finally going to get the help he needs.”

“What he needs is a punch to the face,” David muttered, but Zelena either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore it.

“Can I show you around?” she asked, Emma already wandering about to see the details of each room.

“Yeah, but I mean, I’m already thinking this is too good to be true. Why would someone put this up for rent? It’s so… nice.”

“Well, renting doesn’t mean slumming it, my dear. I’m truly sorry for the loss of your last home, but renting doesn’t always mean it’s small apartments with crappy heat and thin walls. The gentleman who owns this property and many others simply enjoys renovating houses. And he’s found that he generates a nice, steady income from renting them out. And he likes to give people a starter home they can be proud of. Is that something you’re looking for?”

God, if she only knew. “Yes, yeah, that’s… that’s what I need.”

“Then allow me to show you around.”

The tour really only solidified her too good to be true feelings (worries). The carpets were new and the walls were freshly painted. The bay window in their (hypothetical) bedroom would be perfect for curling up and reading. The closets were small, but the basement wasn’t awful, so they’d certainly have room for storage.

And best of all, their view of the bay was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that she could literally see Killian’s ship, out there on the water, molding young minds to be adventurers, explorers and dreamers.

(And yeah, that second bedroom might someday be able to hold a young adventurer, explorer, and dreamer who just so happened to share DNA with her and Killian.)

In short, it was pretty damn perfect.

“Now, I do have several people interested already, but I know that glint in your eye, Ms. Swan. You’ve found your home, haven’t you?”

It was a tactic. Emma knew this. She could spot a slimy salesperson from, well, all the way out to the ocean, probably.

But it’s not as if Zelena was wrong.

-

The kids had been incredible. It kind of made him feel guilty for being the little shit he was as a child, but it’s all about circumstance. He didn’t have nearly the support these kids did.

Then again, if he had, he may never have crossed the pond, may never have met Milah, may never have loved her and lost her and then found himself on a ‘pirate’ ship and living in a tiny apartment, just one thin wall away from what would become a most magical journey.

It’s funny to think about cause and effect. Because sometimes it could set your insides on fire with anger, with guilt, with regret. But there were those other moments that the cause was something unexpected, terrible, that you’d never wish on your worst enemy – and somehow the effect was, what – happily ever after?

(The lesson plans and build the kids’ imaginations was clearly affecting him.)

Once he’d put the Emma situation (mostly) out of his head, it was a really great day. They talked about colonization and the ships that came to America from the far-off lands. They talked about the wars that had been fought here, the things that had been discovered. And they talked about the heroes of Storybrooke and other surrounding areas – the corrupt mayor who’d been defeated by a brave young woman, the young boy who’d stopped the curse of scarlet fever, the brave huntsman who’d given his life to save a young princess from a faraway land. There were historical accounts of each of those tales, of course, but they weren’t quite as fun as the folksy versions. Killian was careful to tell both, though, and the kids were captivated.

When he bid them all farewell and he and Mary Margaret packed up their things, they both had a glow about them (and his clearly had nothing to do with pregnancy). It was more fulfilling than he’d ever imagined to be using his powers for good, so to speak.

Frat boys guzzling rum made him money, but damn did this new arrangement just give him so much more.

“What do you think the whiner and her warden have prepared for us for dinner?” Mary Margaret asked, her being the only one really taking Emma’s constant crankiness in stride.

“Oh, who knows. Emma probably won’t even be there. I sense she’ll be avoiding me. Again.”

“Oh, she will not. I heard your fight – well, part of it. Our walls aren’t that thin. But you needed to let it out! And I know her. She’ll understand. And maybe you showing how her sullenness is affecting you will finally make her clean up her act a little bit. I love her, but damn. She’s a level of bitter I haven’t experienced before. And I was there when she was attempting to live in her car.”

“I know all the stories, Mary Margaret. I think she’s angrier because she was happier? I think the fight last night started all because she’s just mad that she couldn’t go on the ship today. After all her planning and being so dedicated to trying to really cultivate the whole ‘educational’ and ‘family’ aspect of the business, she’s stuck at home. She’s taking it out on us which is super not OK, obviously. But I know from experience that your emotions hit you harder when there’s actually something you feel you lost.”

“Well I’m sure she’d recover faster if she’d just try a little harder. But don’t tell her I said that.” Mary Margaret looked over at Killian and smiled for a moment before focusing back on the task of backing into their driveway. It was nice, the camaraderie he had with Mary Margaret and David, Emma’s only “family” – despite their not being blood-related.

They were all this little unit. Along with Belle and Will and Regina and Ruby and Robin – somehow Killian had found his people.

All because of Emma.

When Mary Margaret and Killian entered the home, they found a surprising sight: Emma and David were making dinner. Together.

Emma was actually contributing to the meal’s preparation. She was even – gasp – smiling?

Until she saw him. At that point her expression morphed to something between fear and panic. Was he accidentally dressed like Freddy Kruger?

“You’re home!” Emma stuttered, visibly nervous.

“I can finish this. Why don’t you go… chat?” David suggested, bumping Emma out of the way with his hip while he stirred what looked like sauce.

“Uh, ok. Just… keep stirring.”

“Just keep stirring, just keep stirring, just keep stirring, stirring, stirring,” David started singing, continually moving the wooden spoon through the substance in the skillet.

“David. You’re not Dory,” Emma chided, a hint of a smile on the corners of her lips.

(David was breaking tension. Which meant there was something up. Fuck, he couldn’t deal with any more drama.)

Emma approached him overly cautiously – the kiss she laid on his cheek so quick he barely felt it. “We’re having this tortellini veggie bake that I found on Pinterest and I don’t want him to fuck it up. I’ve read it’s delicious.” Emma seemed to be trying to explain her nervousness away, to blame it on cooking. But there was definitely something more going on.

She took his hand and led them to their room, Emma awkwardly standing in the doorway even as Killian sat down on the bed. She was quiet for far too long, staring all over the room instead of looking at him.

Until she finally blurted out, “please don’t be mad at me!”

Which took him by surprise. “Uhhh, are you talking about last night? Because I was just frustrated and I shouldn’t have said what I did – I’m annoyed at you, admittedly, but I’m not mad, per se, and I don’t want you to think I hate you because I don’t, I’m just – ”

“No, Killian, I get it. I’ve been a bitter, frustrated bitch and it’s not fair and you needed to get it out. No harm done except me feeling guilty for being awful. That’s – that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then why would I be mad?”

“Well, you know how you worried that I’d be mad when you made a big decision without asking me?”

“… yes?”

“You really don’t see where I’m going with this?”

“Yes, Emma, I obviously see that you made a decision without me, but I’m not sure what that decision might have been so I’m waiting for you to explain it before I assure you I’m not mad!”

“Well, I may have, um… put down security deposit and first and last month’s rent on a house. It’s adorable! I promise! And it overlooks the water and has a bay window and it’s mostly new and we don’t have to share any walls with psychopaths and it has a brand new fire alarm and sprinkler systems and a fireplace and I just want us to move forward and I’m sorry that I’m terrible at recovering and I know I should have asked you first but you were with the kids and I knew you couldn’t text or call and the slimy sales lady was all I have other people interested and making me feel like I had no choice but to take it right that second and I shouldn’t have fallen for it, but Killian, it’s our house. I could feel it. So. I took the leap.”

Emma was out of breath from her babbling, so Killian gave her a moment just to breathe, to attempt relaxation – however impossible that might be. And then he stood, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to sit next to him. He put his hand on her leg and gripped it tightly, willing her to listen to his words and stop her damn panicking.

“Emma. We have got to stop worrying that each other is going to leave just because we took a positive step forward. Or, perhaps we need to communicate with each other before taking steps. I don’t know, it’s one of the two. But the point is: I’m very happy that you found us a house. It sounds perfect. And I’m so happy to be starting a life with you. Not that it hasn’t already started. I mean, we’ve kind of been living a joint life for a while now. But you know what I’m saying. We’ll start our fully independent life together.”

“I know I should have resolved last night especially first. I’ve been terrible. I’m still going to be terrible – I swear I can only control my snark about 45% of the time. I resolved long ago, just after everything with Graham, that I wouldn’t ever use you as a punching bag. Even when you’re offering yourself up for it. And I failed. I know that. I know I let myself just let go and take everything out on you and Mary Margaret and David. I know that’s why Robin won’t even come visit and why Belle gets short with me. I mean we dealt with the same trauma and yet I’m the only one going all Cruella de Vil because of it. I’m working on it. I promise to always work on it. Because, you know, I love you.”

“As I love you. Now how about you show me this home I apparently have because somebody just couldn’t wait…” Killian put his forehead against hers, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“After dinner. I’m serious about the tortellini. It’s supposed to be near Godly and it took us a Godly amount of time to cook it, so we’re damn well eating it. But then I’ll take you to see the house! It’s perfect. I promise I made a good decision, even if I shouldn’t have done so alone.”

“Oh, love, any house would be perfect with you in it.” Killian kissed her cheek, her nose, her forehead, and then captured her lips in a deep, loving kiss.

“Only my dinner should be that cheesy, Jones.”

Go to Next Chapter

I have finally experienced the type of excursion that I’ve been writing about for over a year, and I’m happy to report I was correct about what it was like. So yay! Cheers, friends & thank you for reading : )

[yellowcatcassette]

How to Become a Hitman

You know that question you’ve always been asked as a child? It goes something like, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

When I was a child, at first I didn't know that whenever you are asked that question, you are suppose to answer what kind of career or job you want to have. When someone asked me just what I wanted to be, my answer was simple. I wanted to be me, Satiné, forever. Sure, if I ever marry someone, if I love someone enough, if I ever find someone I love that much, I would let them change my last name. But as I child, I resolved to always be Satiné.

And they made me change my answer. Because apparently, just being me wasn't good enough. No one cares about who you are when you’re an adult. It's all about what job you have and how you make a living. That's what supposedly defines an adult. Either that or my answer was rejected because I couldn't pronounce my own name right when I was younger. Yeah, it wouldn't have been right to let a child go around saying, “I wanna be Satan when I grow up.” 

But Matthias had an acceptable answer. I’m the older sibling, yet whatever he says is always the right thing. Not that I am jealous or anything. His answer back then was just as good as mine.

When he was a child, Matthias wanted to be a hitman.

And of course that was the better answer. Matthias didn't want to be just Matthias when he grew up. He wanted to be dad.

Matthew Dauch, the best hitman in the business. About a hundred or so lives were taken by him. It wasn't just his way of putting food on the table. It was his passion. He was wholeheartedly devoted to serving his clients with unexpected death. And fervor just makes half the hitman. His skill and expertise made the old standards skyrocket. Even the most clean freak hitman cannot manage to leave without the smell of blood and torn flesh lingering. But dad, he left absolutely nothing behind. No one ever heard his targets scream when he attacked. But in most cases, somehow everyone knew it was him. A death scene left so spotless could not be the work of any other. People theorized that he wasn't even human and simply swallowed his targets in one gulp. But I can assure you that's not true. Dad was just that good at disposing of people. 

Before I was nine, all the kids would know me as Satiné Dauch, the daughter of the ultra-cool Matthew Dauch, a hero to all. Mess with her and you'll mess with Matthew Dauch. If he’s cool and better than everyone else, then so must she be.

When my dad was killed, however, then I become known as Satiné Dauch, daughter of the ultra-lame Harlem Dauch, the quiet, ugly widow who runs the boring thread shop. Mess with her and you'll- well, actually, no one ever comes to mom’s shop anymore. So I suppose charging an extra 15% on your purchase of plastic needles isn't as threatening as losing your life. It doesn't matter, mom would never do anything even like that. She’s too soft. Too mom.

Speaking of mom, she was the one thing dad would give up being a hitman for. I don't know what someone like him ever saw in mom, but it was enough to make him quit his career, help take care of her tiny shop, and raise two docile children. In other words, she made him weak and vulnerable. Even so, dad’s legacy lived on after his retirement, as did the jealousy of his rivals. So one day, years after dad “settled down,” as mom calls it, bullets shattered the shop window and dad’s rival hitmen (who, when you were as famous and successful as the great Matthew Dauch, was pretty much every hitman out there) tore his body to untidy shreds. Understandably, common hitman sense justified the kill and none of the involved assassins faced charges.

Sounds traumatic, right? What a harsh reality a child must suffer, they said behind my back. But me, I didn't cry. If anything, I consider having such bloodthirsty enemies like dad had to be an honor. But of course, mom, being mom, cries even today.

Matthias told me a year after the incident occurred and when he finally learned how to speak that he knew about the conspiracy against dad before he was killed. Apparently, he heard it from one of his teacher aids who was dating a nameless hitman and couldn't keep her mouth shut. How unfortunate- the only member of the family who knew of dad’s impending death couldn't talk until he was seven.

But let's move on from my dad. I've boasted about him enough. This is Matthias’ legend. Well, it will become a legend one day. For now, it’s a tale only I can start.

Becoming a hitman was just the beginning, because Matthias wanted to be exactly like dad. And he needed to, because there was no way mom could also play the father of the Dauch family. Problem is, as a child, Matthias was nothing like dad. Dad was confident, poised, graceful, and clever. Matthias was timid, clumsy, and took decades to understand a simple pun. And now that that Matthias has grown up, he is pretty much the same Matthias. Since Mom became even more pathetic after dad was killed, she provides lousy support for Matthias’ hitman dreams. Looks like it's up to me to make this kid a proper hitman.

So how does one set himself up in the hitman industry, you ask? Well, allow me, Satiné Dauch, a member of the soon to be Dauch Hitman Dynasty to describe the process in a few easy steps.

First things first, you have to pick your hook. You need a theme, something that makes you stand out among the hundred other hitmen out there. Pick a stage name if you need that extra boost.

Dad’s thing, shadow manipulation, will never be topped. Imagine this: you're sitting at home watching Saturday Night Live and are on your third slice of cheesecake. It occurs to you that the shadows cast by your recliner, your flat screen, and your coffee table seem to be engulfing your own shadow. Suddenly the silhouette of Matthew Dauch appears on your vomit colored carpet and the real Matthew Dauch appears behind you. The last thing you see is a shadow puppet show on the floor depicting the gory fate you're about to meet. Dad’s stage name was, in fact, Puppeteer in the early years of his career. Soon enough, after becoming so well known, he went by his own name, and by doing so his ordinary name suddenly held more weight and power.

Matthias is all around just as boring as mom, so we had trouble trying to figure out what his hitman motif should be. We were sitting in mom’s shop one afternoon when Matthias picked up a spool of red thread and suggested he could be a sewing themed hitman. At first I thought that was a stupid idea. But in an attempt to persuade me, he picked up a metal sewing needle and pointed it at me in a jabbing motion. At that gesture his vision clicked in my mind. I then dared him to stab me, just for the fun of inflicting pain. Matthias chickened out. By that point I could tell I had more work to do than I expected.

So we went through with Matthias’ needle and thread theme after all. Mom, who use to work as a seamstress, actually became useful during this part of the process. Matthias was able to coax her out of her slump to make him a hitman costume. Her end result is a hooded trench coat with a frenetic stitched pattern and loose satin draped across the waist and shoulders. I think the costume looks too fancy to be the intimidating garb of a killer, but I let Matthias keep it. Maybe “pretty boy hitman” could also be his thing. Besides, mom put a lot of effort into making the coat and I have to admit, it is of excellent quality. But just for an extra touch, I make Matthias wear dad’s old black wispy scarf.

The next step to become an official hitman is to find clients. Back in dad’s day, there were about twenty well known hitmen in the metropolitan area, and in our borough there were three including dad himself. But today there are hundreds of hitmen, each well known and skilled to varying degrees. That being said, it's much harder for a no-name hitman to receive even his first client.

Matthias is not entirely a no-name hitman though. Instead of using whatever cheesy stage name Matthias would have come up with, I decided using his real name would be best. Like I said, the name Dauch has a lot of power thanks to dad. So I thought Matthias would have a multitude of clients on his first day.

But nope, of course it wouldn't have been that easy. Maybe people are scared to contact Matthias because of the controversy surrounding dad’s death. Many of his former rivals are still active today. I suppose it’s been assumed that anyone who hires Matthias would become some other hitman’s victim. If that really is a big reason, I think that's ridiculous. After all, a hitman wouldn't dare kill a normal civilian not on a hit list. That would just be murder. No, hitmen are much more organized and professional.

The other reason I theorize for Matthias’ slow business is that no one believes he could do the job as well as dad did. And yeah, they’re right, but somebody has to give him a chance. A year and a half has passed since Matthias’ profile on Hitman.org went public. The number of “assignments” Matthias has discarded technically remains a big fat zero.

I use the word “technically” because in actuality Matthias has committed half a thousand hitman jobs, and they were all for the same client and target each time.

There is no good way to sugar coat this, so I will just say it as it is: Matthias’ number one and only customer is me, Satiné Dauch. I gave Matthias orders to kill the same victim over and over. Five hundred and forty-seven times to be exact.

Matthias’ rate is the same as dad’s: $10,000 per victim, an additional $1500 for a double speed kill, an additional $1200 for extra customizable torture methods deployed during the kill, an additional $1000 for each pre-kill paranoia attack, and a $12,000 combo deal. 

Now I’m a freelance artist who only works in the black market of doll implantation. For the old farts out there, doll implants is a hot trend among the tweens and teens and in betweens these days. It seems that the only skill I have is, lo and behold, sewing. Thanks a lot, mom. Fortunately, kids think it’s cute to have their consciousness uploaded into dolls. I stitch and sew the dolls according to whatever design customers pick, be it a stuffed dinosaur, the newest Disney princess, a blob like creature with centipede arms, whatever. Like a good ink tattoo, doll implantation is permanent, yet due to certain illegal reasons my commissions earn me just above minimum wage. 

So, no, of course I didn’t invest $5,470,000 in hitman kills. Although whenever the day felt lacking, I added in some of those extra benefits, but at no pecuniary cost.

I force Matthias to give me a family discount; in other words, he does hitman jobs for me free of charge. That takes care of the money problem. I convinced Matthias that these freebie kills will pay off in the end, because soon he’ll have real clients buying that $12,000 combo deal.

You should be wondering who my selected victim is if you are not already. Again, ditching the sugar coating, it’s me, Satiné Dauch. Matthias has killed me five hundred and forty-seven times, and tonight will mark the five hundred and forty-eighth.

Hear me out, this makes sense.

Here’s something the media does not always cover: anyone can sue the client of a hitman on behalf of the victim killed. It was normal for dad’s clients to be taken into court by his victim’s loved ones. Fortunately, the hitman and his rights are always protected under law during such a case.

I could easily pick any oblivious stranger who passes by the shop window as a target for Matthias. But if that random stranger’s friends or family learn that I am the client (and today there are many methods of tracking down clients), then even though Matthias is otherwise safe, I will be brought to court. If the court rules that my reasons for targeting so-and-so are unfair, and in my case, that would be most likely, then I’d face charges for murder.

I’m the only person I know who has no one else who would sue on my behalf. Matthias suing me would be stupid, and he doesn’t have the guts to do that anyway. Mom? Is mom even alive anymore, who knows? Who cares?  I don’t care. She won’t do it.

Yet every daughter of a dead retired hitman is fully aware that once someone is dead, that’s it. He can’t be killed twice. The first time Matthias killed me, Satiné Dauch was technically dead, just like her father. Her corpse was found suspended in her bedroom by a web of red thread, needles impaled in every direction. That day Matthias’ body count meter online officially went up by one.

Keep up now, this is my favorite part of Matthias’ story. Like I said, I’m a freelance doll implant artist. Before the first kill, I simply uploaded myself into one of my commissions, a doll that was a cross between a fish and a waffle, before Matthias killed Satiné the human, who by then was in a vegetative state. From there, everything became simple.

I figure that once people see Matthias’ kill count rising, they will all assume that everyone is either hiring Matthias or being killed by him, therefore making him a popular and successful hitman. As for me, all I have to do is sew myself a new doll body, download my soul into it, and wait for Matthias to arrive at the newest location we agreed on, and watch as he kills who I was before.

It’s a swell life, really. By day, I create a new doll to become, and the only daily concern I have is to give my upcoming body at least two appendages to sew with for the next day. I don’t experience hunger or fatigue. The only pain I feel is at night when Matthias destroys my last vessel.

See, the thing with soul transactions is that even if you’re not in your old body, that old body is still a part of you. From the death of my original body and through the destruction of the last five hundred forty-seven dolls, I felt everything. Every stab of the needle, every pull and burn of the thread, I’ve never grown numb to it. It reassures me that when dad died, at least he had one last thrill before he was gone. If you ever have the chance to feel such discomfort, I recommend it. Really clears up the sinuses and sorrow, you know?

Every now and then, Matthias begs me to let him quit. Even though he’s a legal adult now, he still bawls like a baby at every kill. I keep reminding him that if he won’t shut up his blubbering, a passersby will hear and his yet to exist reputation will never recover from that.

I think back to when I was a child often, when dad was still alive, and when I thought I brilliantly answered that certain question inquiring who I wanted to grow up to be. Of course I certainly never answered with something like, “I want to be a new doll each day before my brother brutally kills me.”

The irony is that after five hundred forty-seven deaths, I am no longer Satiné Dauch, who I once was so hell-bent to be. Nope, Satiné Dauch is dead and forgotten. I am nothing but statistics in Matthias’ hitman record. Likewise, Matthias is still a ways away from achieving his childhood ambition. Maybe after five hundred more deaths Matthias will become just like dad. Maybe after one thousand. One million. A trillion, if Matthias is more pathetic than I think.

Doesn’t matter. Nothing has mattered after dad died. But once Matthias and I resurrect the legendary hitman Matthew Dauch, everything will all mean something once more.