#(and i mean. people do object! it gets really clear in trespasser! but everyone around you still acts like they are in the wrong

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

my favourite part about inquisition is when you go around claiming land and then everyone makes a surprised pikachu face when the locals don't greet you with open arms. inquisitor obviously they've got the wrong idea, we got to show them that they should be grateful for our presence here!!

[mdhwrites]

if you were the writer of the show what type of bigotry in the Owl House show would you include so it would make the inhabitants have flaws without Belos’s influence?

WRONG! bops you on the head

If you make fictional bigotry in your story, you should not then make that bigotry TRUE. It's actually a part of the problem with Belos' death. By making it so that he claims "We as humans are better than these people because we wouldn't let someone die mercilessly like this," only to then have the characters literally go, "Well we aren't," then you justify the bigot. He is not a bigot... He's just correct. They are as awful, cruel and evil as he believes.

Star Rail had this problem in 2.0 where they had a character theoretically be treated with prejudice for his race. However, someone states what that means and 3/5 matched dead on for how he behaved. The one most targeted at him was in fact 100% correct for that patch. As such, it's hard to call that racist instead of an objectively correct judge of character.

And, in case it isn't VERY clear: That is really fucking awful to do as a writer. Even if these are fictional prejudices, it still is like writing a real world stereotype to its stereotype and nothing else. It makes something that is fundamentally irrational and cruel, logical and justified. That's not the message you should be sending to put it mildly.

This is one of the rough elements of including bigotry in a story. You have to be smart enough to first pinpoint why people were bigoted in the first place as most hate groups have an agenda. Manifest Destiny was an excuse for expansion and cruelty, claiming that God preordained their right to this place and so the people who were already there were trespassers and beneath them for they were not blessed by God. The main purpose though was to have some sort of excuse to get what they want. Then you need to show how this is codified into the dominant society. What do people think are the stereotypes that justify their hate? Then you need to turn that back around to show how those people are not what is being claimed and the blunt fact that these lies are spread mostly for personal gain or comfort.

Belos' hate for wild witches is just... They're evil. They are godless heathens who care not for others suffering. Yes, eventually they try to claim he's doing this for glory but it's flimsy when he's ready to die to reach this goal. Can't get glory when you died in another realm, can you? Worse yet, S1 of TOH just makes this belief fact for the majority of the Isles. Remember episode two with "I WANT TO WEAR YOUR SKIN"? It's why they have to retcon the Isles to having been a paradise before Belos arrived or else he's just correct. They have to claim everyone is a greedy asshole because of him or else from go, the show is on his side.

Now we could go into his prejudice against wild witches but... That doesn't actually exist. He doesn't believe in it and seemingly no one else does either. Hunter doesn't, Bump doesn't, Lilith barely cares about it and more in a way that makes the difference be between industry and freelance work, etc. etc. In fact, it's not prejudice in the Isles: It's just law. Eda is factually breaking the law and that's how everyone treats it. As a bounty to be collected. Not someone who is objectively, abhorrently wrong in the eyes of their society because of this fact about themselves. A fact mind you that Eda chose which actually isn't normal for bigotry. Most that critique go with something that is who the person is by birth, whether that be transgender, gay, a certain race, etc. like that. The closest is discrimination through religion which is not really the vibe this gives because no one actually cares about the religion of the Titan either. It's at BEST a representation of Jim Crow laws but like... It also applied to literally every single living being on the Isles at one point because this show is really bad at this angle.

For the wild witch prejudice to actually function, people would need to think wild witches eat babies, steal your magic, burn down towns, etc. like that. Eda should send people screaming... And so should Luz. Which is why this isn't the case. See, Eda being Momma Eda would have been a great critique of how people saw her. How this one choice made them assume things that were inherently wrong. That's how you do critique of bigotry. But at the same time, that means Luz would have had to fight for acceptance. Fight to clear her name. She couldn't have gone to a magic school in episode because quite literally everyone on the Isles should hate her desire for magic because she inherently can't be a part of the coven system so her dream is to be a wild witch.

The show NEVER deals with complications like that though. That's why Eda is the only wild witch. That's why no one cares about her being a wild witch. It's why in the same episode that Bump is trying to apply for funding from the Emperor's Coven, he has Luz, APPRENTICE TO EDA THE OWL LADY, at his school as a regular student. I can't imagine how that would cause a problem. -_-

Which yes, making the Isles fearful and hateful about the limitless self expression of being a wild witch would make them flawed. Would make them follow a false belief as part of the grand scheme of a bigot. It's almost like the people at the top spread their false beliefs in order to gain power and control the masses. It is actually a good idea for it to have been Belos' influence that caused this hate it's just not actually there in the show, regardless of what anyone else tries to say.

And if you want an example of all of this done right? Zecora. From My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I'm not even kidding. In her introductory episode, we are shown that because she is different, a zebra who lives in the woods, EVERYONE in Ponyville is terrified of her. Then when something goes wrong, it assumed to be her fault. However, the Poison Joke actually being told is that they all made fools of themselves while being hateful. That if they had just listened to her, extended trust to her, there would have been no problem because their prejudices were inherently irrational and wrong.

In 22 minutes, My Little Pony addresses bigotry better, more comprehensively and more meaningfully than TOH does in THREE SEASONS. But... I guess only one has gained the reputation for being deep and thoughtful so we should just assume it did it better, right?

Sorry but I prefer to focus on reality than the biased perception that fits my narrative. See you next tale.

======+++++======

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I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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[bokutoslittlebird]

Awakened

Alpha!Osamu x reader x Alpha!Atsumu

Author’s note : Fantasy AU based on two pieces of fan art of the twins as fox yōkai, but I hope it’s to your liking! ; their names are never directly said to reader-chan, so their names are what they call each other.

Warnings: bullying (brief, not from the twins), naive and innocent reader, knotting, double penetration, backshot, face fucking/blowjob, dubcon/noncon, blood, biting and licking, cunnilingus, creampie

There’s a legend that runs deep in the roots of your village, one that’s told to many and encourages children to stay away from the forest. It was proven effective — no child dared to enter the forest, holding onto that fear into their adult years. The legend revolves around two mischievous fox spirits that would always be in competition. They always had someone who would win, but then a terribly evil spirit came upon the clearing they played in, forcing the two spirits to push differences aside and fight off the evil spirit that entered the territory. It was a combined effort, the two spirits realizing they worked better when they worked together. It taught children that sometimes it was better to ask for help; however, it also taught children that they couldn’t go into the forest. The spirits resides in the forest, protecting the village from evil spirits as a combined task and if anyone dared trespass in their forest, then destruction would come to the village.

It was a legend some teenagers dared to challenge, entering the forest and coming out, saying “nothing bad happened to them!” but then their luck would turn sour sometimes. It always put things in perspective, seeing them suddenly fall into a mud puddle after entering the forest, or having their pants suddenly fall. It made people laugh, but it really made you feel like the forest was alive and watching. You never dared to go near the forest. At least, not until your pride was at stake.

“Go get a stupid stick, [Y/N]!” Jocelyn sneered, her eyes narrowed. Her arms were crossed and she was tired to repeating herself. You were dared to go into the forest, get a stick to bring back for proof, and you would no longer be a coward. It was simple in words, but not so simple in action. You feared the bad things that happened after people entered the forest, but you were considered a coward for those beliefs. “You’re just a big, dumb baby!”

“No I’m not!” You shouted back, puffing your cheeks. You let out a heavy breath and turned to the brown and green image of the forest. They wouldn’t be able to see you enter the forest, but they just needed a stick as proof. Sucking up the courage to go, your legs moved towards the foliage. You could hear the other girls’ jeers as your pace slowed, the forest closer than you had ever dared to let it. The forest itself looked peaceful, but the legend of the spirits scared you, halting your footsteps. Instead of going in, you were going to pick up a stick on the outskirts, but there was no stick. Nothing but grass lay before you, the shadows of the trees outlining what was the forest and what was not. There was a stick you could see, the light seeping through the leaves illuminating it as if you were on a quest to get — well, you kind of were.

Sucking up any inhibitions you had, you entered the forest. Picking up the stick, you noticed a lack of any other stick lying in the fallen leaves. Clutching the stick to your chest, you turn to go when you find a small piece of cloth, hidden in the leaves. You pick it up, looking at the designs and feeling how soft and silky it was. It was a robe that your ancestors adorned, but the fabric told you it was either brand new or kept in pristine condition. With it in your hands, you found yourself turning to flee once again. The howling of the wind sent your legs running out of the forest and up the hill, as fast as you could. If you had listened closer, you would have heard the howl of a beast as you fled.

Deeper into the forest, a pair of eyes watched as you obtained the stick and plucked the ceremonial robe from the earth he presented to you. When you chose it and fled, he smiled. His eyes turned from your retreating figure and moved to leap from the tree he perched himself on. As his body was that of a grey fox, he was much better at hiding than if he was in his more human form. Transitioning between into his human form, he smiles once more, a finger on his chin.

“What to offer her next, I wonder?” He ponders aloud, with only the wind around to hear him and carry his voice.

Your lungs are burning as you arrive back at the little picnic you were attending, the girls giggling as you finally come back. “Did ya see a ghost or somethin’?” Akira asks. You’re heaving as you present the stick, perfectly in tact and big enough to feed a fire. Everyone’s cheers are perceived as mocking to you, as you move on. The picnic is no longer something you want to attend, instead preferring to take a bath and sleep. With your worries placed on the forest and the spirits within, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to sleep or shall an entity come and judge you for trespassing.

The next day, you find your gaze drawn to the forest, as if it calls you down. Ignoring the calls are hard, you legs involuntarily moving as you think. On the edge of the forest, you see inside to find a small temari ball. It looks as if a young child once played with it, as you get closer to the object. Looking around the forest, you expect to see a child lost or crying, but you find nothing. With the lack of an owner, you decide to leave the ball. Turning to leave, you reprimand yourself for entering the forest again.

The sound of leaves rustling has you swiveling around, almost falling over when you realize the temari is following you. Moving back, it continues to follow you. A quick glance around proves that no one else is around, so you pick up the temari. As you did yesterday, you flew out of the forest and hope you didn’t take a malevolent being’s toy.

Another pair of eyes watch as you flee, his temari offering close to your chest. A wickedly mischievous grin spreads upon his lips, his form emerging from the shadows where he was hidden. With sharp canines peeking from his smile, warm brown eyes look to the path you had just taken. “I’m glad she likes her present. I can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring,” he chuckles, moving further into the forest. With each step he takes, a thick fog permeates the forest floor, providing a barrier past the stream.

You don’t know what it is. The growing urge to enter the forest gets stronger as the day continues on, the urge barely quenched upon nightfall. Even in your bed chambers, you find yourself looking through your open window, into the forest. Mist seeps from the greenery, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. A howl from the forest startles you, eyes finding the gaze reflecting back at you. As you hold the gaze, feeling yourself rooted in place, another set of eyes joins. You shut the window, deciding to never go back to the forest.

When morning comes, the feeling of needing to go to the forest is even stronger. Feeling ill from the image of last night, you decide to stay home for the day. When a knock comes to your door, you assume it to be the milk delivery. Upon opening the door, your eyes widen at the two boys on your doorstep.

“Can you go get my ball?” The first one says, a bright smile on his face. The one currently sniffling nods in agreement. They look like twins, not that you’d recognize them.

“I didn’t mean to kick it so hard, please don’t tell my dad!” He cries out, holding onto his brother. You smile warmly at him, getting to eye level. Running your hand through his hair, his sniffles lessen.

“I won’t tell anyone, you’re fine. I’ll be right back,” you smile at him, wiping his tears. You shut the door, telling them to stay put as you go searching for the ball. As you look around, you become confused. Where is the ball? Moving further along your backyard, you hear a hushed whisper from the forest, wide eyes turning to sound. With an apology already on your lips, you turn to enter your house when you find yourself unable to move. As if an invisible barrier prevents you from progressing towards your house — which seems proven true as you inch towards the forest and suddenly cannot go back to where you were. With the unsettling pit in your stomach, you enter the forest once more.

Entering, you find the mist from before still evident, yet it parts for you. Curiosity sets in as you are further urged into the forest, stopping as you hear water trickling. A stream lays in front of you, waters more calm than your heart beat. You inhale, deciding to risk it as you wade through the stream. The water seeps into your shoes, the bottom of your dress becoming saturated. Progressing further into the mist, now a heavy fog, you find a large temple inside. It’s stable and perfectly standing, as if it isn’t centuries old. The two erected statues tell you the temple belongs to the spirits of the legend, finding a chill run through your blood as you realize your situation. Before you step foot onto the stairs, you turn to leave but are halted.

“Where do you think yer goin’?” A rough voice speaks. You whip around to see a tall, but handsome man. The hair is a dark grey color, eyes to match. What stuns you is the pair of grey fox ears, a tail that matches in color swishing behind him. His clothes remind you of the robe you found amongst the leaves.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, really!” You begin to plea, pulling on your wrist. “I-I didn’t mean to- to trespass!”

“What’d’ya mean? This is your home, y’know?” He seems genuinely confused, another stun to your body as his words settle. Home? This temple? Before you can refute him, another voice joins in.

“Ah, ‘Samu, I told ya humans are different. They don’t know the offering ritual, but I made sure to get our offerings. Our silly little human forgot about them,” he chuckles, looking at you. With the robe you found on one arm, the temari in his hand. “This was my offering, you know,” he gestures to the ball. “A precious item to me, it is. I’m glad you took care of it and cleaned it up. What a perfect little wife you’ll make,” his grin makes his words more sinister than they originally were. Fear spikes through your veins, your limbs suddenly shaking as you feel your legs give out. The one dubbed ‘Samu catches you, holding you bridal style as you find yourself hesitant to hold onto his robes.

“‘Tsumu, y’know I’m not watching humans like you do. That’s weird,” he cringes, nose scrunching up in disgust. ‘Tsumu seemed to get ticked off at that, growling. Only then did you notice how animal-like the both of them were, sporting fox ears and a tail to match. While ‘Samu had dark grey, ‘Tsumu spotted a saturated yellow hair color and slightly lighter ears and tail. So caught up in the view, you didn’t notice that the brothers has started walking, heading towards the temple.

“W-Wait, I can’t go with you! I’m— I’m not who you’re looking for!” Sputtering out the first things to pop into your mind, the two don’t stop.

“Of course yer who we’re looking for! You’re meant for us, meant to know your place with us. After all, why else would enter our domain, smelling so delicious as you do?”

“Smell— what?”

“‘Tsumu, stop bein’ cryptic. He’s saying you entered the forest during your heat cycle,”

“Well, ovulation in humans. Apparently, they’re not like us special spirits,”

“You’re ready for us, we can smell it. You’ll be the perfect mate for us to breed,” although ‘Samu seemed uninterested, you could feel how his chest seemed to heave as he inhaled deeply. The growling accompanying his final word sent slick between your folds as you held onto him close, afraid of falling.

Arriving at the top of the temple, you saw a cot that has been lain out, the soft cushioning big enough for the three of you. The sight of it had your brain going into overdrive, panicking as you attempted to leave ‘Samu’s arms. He complied, but his hands stayed firmly on your hips. “Time to get dressed,”

Before you could ask for an explanation, your clothes were practically torn off of you. Blood spilled onto your ripped dress, your side burning from where the claws caught you. The shreds fell to the temple floor, your hands flying to cover the exposed skin. While one hand covered the area between your legs, your arm held your breasts close to your chest. ‘Samu clicked his tongue, easily removing your hands from your body while ‘Tsumu slid on the robe, his claws lightly grazing your skin. He didn’t hide the fact he was admiring the view, either, his dark eyes gazing over each inch of skin you presented to him. Once the robe was on, you were released from ‘Samu’s hold, left to cover yourself up with the fabric. You’d deny it aloud, but the robe fit you perfectly.

“You’re gorgeous,” ‘Tsumu growled, shedding his own robe. Your hands came in front of you, hoping to somehow deter him when ‘Samu brought you backwards, to the cot presented. ‘Tsumu wasn’t far behind, dropping to his knees while you lay against the cot. It was softer than expected, more plush than it looks. ‘Samu had stripped of his own clothes, his robe hanging loosely on him by the ribbon around his waist. ‘Tsumu was different, his robe open and letting you see every inch of skin, but his arms still through the sleeves as if he was cold.

“I don’t—“ you began, your words interrupted by ‘Samu’s lips on yours, his tongue brushing against your closed lips as he deepened the kiss. ‘Tsumu’s touches had begun to litter your thighs, spreading your legs as he inhaled deeply. A finger touching your entrance had you jumping, only to be held firmly down by ‘Samu’s hands.

“You’re so wet, it’s hard to hold back,” ‘Tsumu growls out, his tongue lapping at your folds. You squirm and make a noise of displeasure, but ‘Samu is there to keep your focus on his lips and kisses. The more he kisses you, the hotter your body gets and the more you feel your resistance melt away. ‘Tsumu has his face between your thighs, licking and sucking on your clit, claws digging into the skin. It has you clenching around nothing, the hot pleasure from his tongue and burning sensation on your thighs. It isn’t until he removes himself from between your legs do you feel relaxed and at ease, as if your body is jelly. Your resistance is no more, a small whine coming from you when ‘Samu and ‘Tsumu remove themselves to admire their handiwork.

It’s a sudden change, the relaxing touches and breathless kisses are gone, replaced by the feverish touches of both men as they paw and scratch at your skin, ‘Samu’s teeth sinking into hot skin and lapping at the blood while ‘Tsumu presses less destructive kisses to your neck. With the air much too hot for your liking, a breathless moan leaves your lips when ‘Tsumu pulls your head back by your hair, spitting into your mouth and then kissing you. With his tongue tracing your teeth and his growls being swallowed up by your mouth, you’re oblivious to ‘Samu. With his cock in one hand, he kneads your thigh with his other hand as he rubs along your folds.

“‘Tsumu, move off,” ‘Samu growls, pushing the fox spirit off of you, his large frame colliding with the wooden planks of the temple. You find yourself on your hands and knees, ass in the air while the robe is promptly stripped off of you, lain underneath you. ‘Samu licks his lips, lining himself up with you entrance while ‘Tsumu gets his balance back. The first press in has you screaming, but it isn’t just because he’s big. His thickness is something you never expected, but with his calloused hands on your hips, bringing you back into his hips with no regards to adjusting you. A guttural groan comes from ‘Samu, head thrown back as he basks in the pleasure of being buried in your cunt. ‘Tsumu is now back to you, his hard cock in front of your face.

With another rough thrust, one that has you practically bouncing off ‘Samu’s cock, ‘Tsumu has you wrapping your lips around his. You can’t take it all in, that’d be impossible. With a pair of hands on your hips, you’re brought to ‘Samu while the pair of hands tangled in your hair pulls you towards ‘Tsumu. Lips pressed firmly against ‘Tsumu’s cock as your tongue runs under the length, running over the bulging veins and ridges you find. Your eyes are screwed shut, unable to stay open while ‘Samu splits you on his cock, somehow forcing himself deeper and deeper inside of you. It isn’t until you’re finally bouncing flush against him do you feel something strange on his cock. It’s only then do you open your eyes, looking at ‘Tsumu’s cock that has a large bulb at the base of it, growing in size the more you suck on him. Hollowing out you cheeks has ‘Tsumu groaning, claws digging into your scalp as he forces himself down your throat. He doesn’t force the bulb in your throat, thankfully, but he does coat your throat in his cum.

“Your mouth is fucking hot, little human. It’s like you were made to take us,” he breathes out, panting. You’re coughing, feeling Samu’s thrusts speed up as he brings you close to him, but he pulls out at the last moment to spill all over your back.

“With our scent on you, you’ll be stuck by our side until you pass,” ‘Samu is in a similar situation, chest heaving as you’re flipped over. You’re then placed on ‘Tsumu’s lap, his cock rubbing between your folds as he grinds into you. “But we’ll take you together first,”

“So no hard feelings, right ‘Samu?”

“Right, ‘Tsumu,” the agree, Tsumu’s cock rubbing into you and then prodding at your drooling cunt. He slips the tip in, the feeling similar to ‘Samu’s thick cock. Speaking of ‘Samu, he’s quick to stick his own tip back in, stretching you out farther then you expected. A silent scream comes from you as tears spill down your cheeks, both of them thrusting into you as your cunt burns.

Split open on their cocks, you’re helpless. Nails digging into ‘Samu’s shoulders as his hands once more find themselves on your hips. ‘Tsumu’s hands are keeping your legs spread, the view of you sucking in both their cocks on display as they thrusts in tandem. When one pulls out, the other thrusts in and vice versa. The rhythm they set is one that works, their lips finding opposite sides on your neck to kiss and lick, teeth grazing the skin. You feel a buildup of your own orgasm as they plow into you, your walls squeezing them as they pick up the pace. Their rhythm gets sloppy, short growls from each as their bulbs start to grow again.

When ‘Tsumu sinks his teeth into you, your scream is one of pleasure as you reach your high, coating both of their cocks a milky white cream, the liquid falling to their base and dripping down. ‘Samu sinks his teeth into your skin on the opposite side as they both push into your tight cunt, a scream and shiver running through you as the do, their bulbs inflating inside to stretch you even more.

You’re completely stuck, their cocks inside you as they lap at your wounds. It’s only when you squirm do they start talking. “You’ll get used to it,”

“After all we have a week,”

“You’ll be able to take our knots with no problem,”

“All your holes will be used to taking us,”

Their words don’t ease you concern, but the fact that once they leave your warm cunt, they’re still hard and readying you for round two. The heat encompassing your body refuses to leave, their skin as sweaty and hot as yours. With their relentless stamina and obsession with pumping all their seed into you, you’re positive you’ll get pregnant.

[nony-bear]

Mission Birthday (Steve Oneshot)

This blog and ALL posts are for people 18 + ONLY.

Gif By: @zimski-vojnik // Dividers Found Here

Parings: Steve X Reader

Warnings: Kissing (I don’t know if that needs a warning but just incase.)  

Word Count: 1779

Summary: It’s your boyfriends birthday... the only problem is, he didn’t tell you. 

A/N: Hi everyone! I know it’s been a hot second since I’ve posted any actual writing, but I finally was able to write this request I got a while back! I think I like how it ended up turning out even though it’s on the shorter side for a oneshot, but anyways, I hope I did an okay job, and everyone likes it! As always, thank you all for your support and everything. You all are truly amazing, and I can’t express how grateful I am for everything. My inbox is always open and has anonymous mode available, so please feel free to drop in anytime about literally anything (even requests!) I’d love to hear from you all!

Sitting at the kitchen table at the Avengers compound, you sip your coffee carefully, trying not to burn your mouth but still get a taste of that magical caffeine. Nat is sitting across from filling out some mission reports while eating her breakfast, Bruce is next to her reading some physics thesis, and Bucky is over at the stove cooking up some eggs. While making himself some breakfast, Bucky chats with you about work and the weather and other normal stuff. The conversation is by no means awkward, but your brain is still waking up, not used to being up this early. Usually, after your boyfriend (and fellow avenger) Steveleaves in the morning for his workout session giving you a soft kiss goodbye, you fall right back to sleep. But this morning was different. No matter how hard you tossed and turned, you couldn’t sleep. There was this weird nagging feeling in the back of your head that you were missing something. Still, you were sure that you didn’t have any meetings except for a quick one this afternoon, and besides that, you had the day completely free. But you still couldn’t shake it, so instead, you got up and dragged yourself out into the common area.

“So, what are you and Steve doing tonight?” Bucky asks, walking over to the table with his plate in hand.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Not sure, probably just go catch fireworks somewhere. Why do you have plans?”

In the midst of hungrily shoveling the food in his mouth, he looks up at you, confused. “But it’s -”

You chuckle at him a little, looking shocked before answering the question for him. “Buck, I know it used to be really big when you and Steve were young, but usually people now only do like cookouts and fireworks. Independence Day just isn’t as big of a deal.”

“Oh my god, you don’t know…” He says, dropping the fork on the table making a clinking sound that causes Nat and Bruce to look up at him in just as much confusion as you.

With a nervous laugh, you look between him and the others. “What don’t I know?”

“Nope, nothing,” Buck announces, his demeanor changing suddenly, before standing up and walking back towards the counters in the kitchen.

You’re suddenly much more awake and quick on your feet, following after him. “You can’t just not tell me now!” You say, grabbing his arm lightly as if you could really ever actually restrain his movements.

“You obviously don’t know for a reason, so I’m not going to be the one that tells you.” He laughs, using his hand to push your head, and subsequently, your body away from him playfully.

“Nat! Bruce!” You whine, looking at them for help.

Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses. “You know she isn’t going to leave you alone until you tell her.”

Bucky huffs in annoyance, knowing how persistent you can be. “Okay fine, but you can’t tell him I told you…”

Your heart starts beating faster; you figured it was something about Steve, but now you’re worried, what if this is something serious. “I promise.” You tell him before taking a deep breath in.

“Today is Steve’s birthday.” He says cautiously.

“What?!” You, Nat, and Bruce all say at once.

Bucky puts down his plate and rubs his hands over his face frustratedly. “He’s going to kill me.”

“Not if I kill him first!” You say immediately. “I can believe he didn’t tell me! I’ve been trying to get it out of him for months! He said he didn’t want me trying to analyze his birth chart, said his mom thought that kind of stuff was for witches.” Bruce shrugs with a chuckle, and Nat swats him with her papers.

“Y/n, please, don’t make a big deal about today. Steve doesn’t like celebrating his birthday. He hates it, actually,” Bucky explains, glancing at the doorways worried Steve may walk in at any moment.

You shake your head and put your hands on your hips, confused. “But why? Obviously, the astrology thing wasn’t true.”

“I mean, that does sound like something his mom would have said, but still, Steve just doesn’t like being the center of attention, didn’t want you to go to the trouble probably.” Bucky shrugs. “Now, speaking of trouble… don’t get me in it.”

After talking to Bucky, you tried not to dwell on the fact that it is your boyfriend’s birthday, and you literally have nothing prepared. But that quickly proved to be impossible. So mission Birthday commenced.

You got yourself ready as quickly as possible to avoid Steve on his way back from the gym before his meetings and then ran out into town. You picked up everything you would need; decorations, food, some cupcakes, and of course, his gift. You had reserved this present for your anniversary, only three months away, but with this new information, you couldn’t help yourself.

Making sure to discreetly slip back into the compound after Steve had already left for his meetings and drop everything off before attending a meeting of your own. Thankfully it was short and sweet, and you were able to dash back to your shared suite in no time.

You set up everything perfectly. Simple blue streamers on the ceiling, a few silver balloons here and there, and his go-to order from his favorite take-out spot and cute little cupcakes from a local bakery presented nicely on the delicately set table, while the gift rests hidden in your bag for later.

Having a bit of time left, you put on one of his favorite records, lit some candles, and changed into one of his favorites of your dresses. You are finishing up fixing up your hair when you hear the jiggle of the knob on the front door.

“Uh, baby? Are you in there? Did you lock the door?” The confused man calls out to you from the other side of the door. Considering the Avengers Compound is one of the secure and safest places in the entire world, you tended to rarely keep the doors locked.

Giggling, you rush over and smooth your dress out one last time before unlocking the door and opening it slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m actually waiting for someone. Can I help you?” You tease him trying not to open the door too wide, and let him see in.

“What’s going on with you, my little minx? Let me in.” He chuckles, confused, trying to wrap a hand around your waist to move you.

You follow his lead and move to the side. Once he enters the room, you close the door before coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso. “I know your secret.” You say softly, unable to contain your giddy smile.

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all of this…” He sighs, turning in your arms to get a better look at you. “You didn’t have to go to all the trouble just for me.”

You shake your head and frown. “Steve, it’s no trouble at all. I love you, and you deserve to be celebrated. I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me.”

His features soften as he leans down and kisses you wiping the frown off your face. “I love you so much…. And thank you, I’m sorry for not telling you, even though I would have been just fine with leftovers and going to see the fireworks tonight.” He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, we’ll still go see the fireworks tonight still, but after dinner, now come eat.”

Steve and you talk over dinner, enjoying the quality time together, and him continually thanking you and telling you that you didn’t have to do all this for him.

After eating, you pull him out of his seat and head towards the garage. You ignore his repeated questions about where you are going, simply telling him to be patient. About fifteen minutes later, you pull over to the side of the road and get out of the car, Steve following closely behind.

Still asking you a million questions, you lead him out to a field where you can see a handful of people in the distance setting something up.

“Baby, what the hell are we doing out here?” He asks you, confused and starting to get nervous that you guys may be trespassing.

“Wanted you to have the best seats in the house.” You say, making Steve connect the dots that the men in the distance must be setting up the annual fireworks. “Now sit so I can give you your present.” You laugh, pulling him down to the grass with you.

“A present, really baby? I swear you really -”

“Didn’t have to do this, I know, I know.” You cut him off while pulling the small wrapped object out of your bag and handing it to him. “I wanted to. Steve, really, I love you; I couldn’t let your birthday be just another day. You deserve better than that.”

Steve stops trying to argue and leans forward, kissing your forehead lovingly before taking the gift from you. Carefully he unwraps the simple blue paper revealing the clear box containing an old dirty baseball with tiny letters scrawled across it in blue ink.

“I know how you always said you wish you could have played baseball as a kid and how you and bucky would always try to go catch foul balls at the Yankees games but never did. So I got one for you, even got the player you liked from all the way back then…” You explain nervously, hoping he’d like it as much as you thought he would.

“This is an amazing baby. I don’t even know what to say. Just thank you, so, so much.” He says, closely examining the ball until he looks up to you, pulling you in close for a hug and a kiss.

You smile at his happiness, proud that he liked the gift. “Happy Birthday, old man.” You giggle teasingly.

He chuckles, giving you an eye roll.“Can’t even be mad at you. You have made this the best birthday ever.”

Soon the two of you cuddle up close with your back against his front and his arms wrapped around you, leaning up against one of the trees bordering the field. Waiting for the fireworks to begin, a comfortable silence falls over you both while he presses soft kisses to your cheek, and you play with the fingers of his that is held by yours. And as you lie there together, Steve thinks of why exactly he didn’t like his birthday, but suddenly he can’t remember.

Taglist: @angrybirdcr // @cloudystevie // @dadplease // @doozywoozy // @patzammit // @selfcarecap // @steebsbabygirl​ // @velvetcardiganbucky​​ // @worksby-d​

If you would like to be a part of my taglist for future writing, let me know! (If you would like to be tagged for only certain characters and/or only specific types of writing (like only fluff or only smut), I can do that too!)

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Altered Carbon- Out of the Past (1.01)

Pairing: Nova Griffiths (OC) x Takeshi Kovacs

Summary: When Nova is contracted for a new job, she's introduced to a part of humanity's past. The job seems to be a bust, but it becomes clear that it's anything but.

Warnings: mentions of suicide!, cursing, guns, rebirthing(?), sword+knives, blood, mentions of shitty parents

Word Count: 6441

“Just…” I sighed, looking out through the droplets of rain on the windows of the bus stop, “I just want you to be safe, E.J.”

“I know. I will be, Nov. I promise.”

“Alright, good. Look, bug, I’ve gotta run.”

“New job?”

I snorted, looking at his grin on the holographic screen. “Possible new target, yeah.”

He nodded. “Promise you’ll be safe too?”

I nodded right back, a smile on my face. “Promise, E.J. Love you, bud. Talk to you later, yeah?”

Another nod. “Go.”

I sighed as I checked the time.

Shit.

I was going to be late if I didn’t haul ass. I flicked the display of the watch away and pulled my helmet on. I straddled my bike and kicked the stand up. Hopefully, this payout would be worth it.

***

“Justice! Let the dead speak! Justice! Let the dead speak!”

The chant became static as I pushed my way through the crowd, and up the steps of Alcatraz prison. Lieutenant Ortega from the local police department had reached out and told me she would give me a ride up to the Bancroft residence.

“Griffiths!”

I popped onto my toes and saw the lieutenant waving me down. A blond man stood next to her, his face angry, but eyes seeming disoriented.

“Ortega, hey.” I held a hand out for her and she gave me a firm shake. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last twenty minutes.”

“These people are something else. Nova Griffiths, you’ll be working with this gentleman here.”

“Nice to meet you.” I stuck my hand out, and he did the same.

“You shouldn’t have come back!” A man shouted over my shoulder, cutting my new partner off before he could start his sentence.

The crowd’s chant changed, “No resleeving!”

“Well shit, let’s get outta here.” I gave Ortega a grimace, letting his hand drop.

We began to push our way back through, dodging the picket signs and the face painted protestors. A man with white and black markings on his face took a step towards us and pushed me out of the way. I stumbled backwards, and my partner reached out, preventing me from falling off my feet.

“You will not be forgiven!” The protester spat in his face.

I used the existing grip on my arm to pull myself back in front of him. I spat in the protester’s face and shook my partner’s grip loose.

“Well, that’s gonna keep him busy a while.” My partner guided me to walk in front of him as we continued to push through the crowd.

***

“Spirit savers and Afterlifers. 653 failed, and still they can’t stop yelling.” Ortega spoke.

“What is 653?” He asked, looking up from the paper.

“Something about spinning up murder victims to testify who killed them.” I kept my eyes on my feet, feeling nauseous.

“Why wouldn’t you spin them up if they’re witnesses to their own murder?”

“Archdiocese says you only get the sleeve you’re born with. Once it dies, they spin you back up for anything, even to identify your killer, your soul goes to hell.” Ortega looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

“I think no one in the archdiocese has ever been murdered.” He looked out the window, and then to me. “Nova?”

I snorted, finally looking up. “I think they’re all full of shit.”

He fell quiet as he observed the city. I studied his silhouette as he stared. The sleeve was handsome. Strong features, a strong jawline, a deep voice. Light colored eyes and swept-over hair.

“So what were you in for?” I asked, trying to get a sense of why he was so silent.

“Ah, little bit of this, little bit of that. Blew some shit up and killed some people.” He caught a look from Ortega in the rearview. “Some people just need killing.” He grinned.

I felt a grin rise on my own face, but Ortega didn’t seem to share the amusement.

“And how do you decide who deserves to die?”

My partner shook his head with a small sigh. “Depends on the day. I mean, anything can set me off. Interstellar dictatorship, genocide, people who talk to much.” He looked over at her for the last part before letting out another sigh.

I giggled, and Ortega shot me a look.

“Right now I’m feeling pretty hostile towards Laurens Bancroft, whoever the fuck he is.” He pulled something from his pants pocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Bancroft, he’s one of the first founding Meths.”

“What’s a Meth?”

“You don’t know what a Meth is? How can you not know?” Ortega chuckled. “You're dressed like one.”

“Like I said, I’m not from around here.” His demeanor changed.

I eyed him. He was fidgeting with his hands. Ortega went on, reciting something from the beliefs of the Meths. I decided to unbuckle myself and slide into the middle seat. He took notice and looked down at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“How long have you been under?”

He looked away, sighing again.

“How long, man?” I whispered again.

“Two hundred fifty years.” He didn’t look my way again.

“Shit.”

We busted through the clouds, and I slid forward, still unbuckled. He caught me by the hood of my jacket before grabbing my upper arm, pulling me back into my seat. I swallowed my pride and buckled back up.

“They call it the Aerium.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Guess they don’t have this where you come from either, huh?” Ortega gave a teasing smile.

She guided the car to hover over the property as we sat in silence. He readjusted himself back in his seat, and Ortega seized the silence once more.

“So, where were you born? Home planet, that kinda thing.”

“Not here.” He was dead-pan.

“That’s a little vague.” Ortega chuckled.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s my abuela. She always said, Kristin, you can find a way to talk to anybody.”

“Especially when they’re trapped in a car with you.” He shot back.

She looked forward with a sigh, and I stifled another giggle.

“Our quick and messy little lives are so small to them. They build their homes up here so the clutter of our existence is out of their sight.”

We only shared a look in the backseat.

***

The landing of the hover-car was rough, accompanied by various quick remarks.

“Come on, last chance. Just give me a name.”

“Takeshi Kovacs.” He got out of the car and straightened out his clothes. “Look me up.”

Ortega immediately did so while I scrambled out of the car after him.

“Holy shit. Is that why…”

Kovacs glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“You can’t be who you say you are. All the Envoys died.” Ortega tried to catch up with us as she shouted.

“All except one.” Kovacs caught me by the arm, pulling me to stand behind him.

I peered around his frame, only to see Bancroft’s multiple goons with their guns pointed toward us.

“Not another step, Ortega.”

“Aw come on. I’m Bay City PD and you know it, Curtis.” Ortega continued to walk toward them. “So lower your weapons and tell me where your boss is, because I really would like a fucking word.”

“Lieutenant Ortega, you’re trespassing on private property. Apparently, you’ve stolen one of our limos as well. I could have you shot.”

Ortega snorted. “Yeah, go ahead. Try.”

A police vehicle landed to our left, and Kovacs covered me a bit more with his own body.

“Why did you drive the Envoy? Isaac was supposed to do that.”

The police car door opened, and a man in a suit dragged a boy out.

“Look, I’m not drunk, okay? I was just loosening up a little. Let go of me.”

“We picked him up on a DUI.” The man explained to Mrs. Bancroft.

“Which is how we came into possession of your vehicle.” Ortega explained.

Mrs. Bancroft whispered something back and forth to, presumably, her son. She turned back to face us. “This is police harassment.”

“Yeah.” Ortega scoffed again. “There’s your kid, there’s your car, here’s your mercenary, and there’s your… new pet terrorist.” She gestured towards Kovacs, annoyed. “You’re welcome.”

“Bounty hunter, not a mercenary.” I scowled.

She walked past us, and Kovacs scoffed this time. “The terrorist can hear you. I’m standing right here.”

“Yeah, good. Cause we’re not done, you and me.” Ortega snapped at him before getting into the police car. I inched my way out from behind Kovacs until I was standing next to him.

Mrs. Bancroft chuckled as she walked toward us. “Forgive me. I’m Miriam Bancroft. We’ve not been properly introduced.”

She gave Kovacs a weak handshake, followed by a snake-like smile my way.

“Welcome to Suntouch House.” She turned on her heel, and we followed.

***

“Shouldn’t that be in a museum?” Kovacs asked as we walked under the branches of a large tree.”

“I have a weakness for Elder civilization artifacts. I collect them, among other things.”

“This must’ve cost a fortune to ship here.”

She hummed as Kovacs reached for one of the lower-hanging tendrils.

“A few lifetimes, as well. But cost was no object. This is the only Songspire tree on Earth. No one really knows what they are. They could’ve functioned as part of Elder civilization architecture. The largest ones ever recorded are thousands of meters high.”

The look on Kovacs’ face was one of recognition. “I know. I’ve seen them.”

“Stronghold. Of course.” She nodded. “Laurens is in his study. I’ll show you up.”

As if voice-activated, the elevator doors to her right slid open. Kovacs and I eyed each other before following her into the small room. Something felt off. We stayed silent as the elevator began to ascend. I kept myself tucked in between him and the corner, and Miriam stood opposite of him. She continued to eye him before beginning to play with her necklace. The metallic clicking caught his attention, and he looked up.

“Is it true you can look into a person’s eyes and know exactly what they’re thinking?”

Kovacs hummed. “No, Envoys don’t read minds.”

“What a pity.” She smiled.

Kovacs seemed uncomfortable, and the elevator dinged before anyone could say anything else.

“Good luck, Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths.”

Kovacs gestured for me to exit first, and he followed close behind. We let out simultaneous sighs as we heard the doors close again. We began to walk down the long hallway, trying to keep pace with each other. The study was silent when we walked into it, and I began to feel sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms Griffiths.”

We looked up to see Bancroft on the balcony of his study, drink in hand. “My apologies, my son failed to drive you here. You have to forgive my endlessly misplaced optimism.”

“That’s alright.” Kovacs looked back around the study. “The ride was very instructive.”

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure it was. Details are, after all, an Envoy’s stock-in-trade.” He began to walk down to the level we were on. “Or were, I guess I should say. Immersion and total absorb. Wasn’t that the term, hmm? Whatever answer you may seek, it is precisely where you are not looking.”

“You’ve read Falconer.” Kovacs finally spoke, eyes on me as I kept my own on him.

“I was alive during the uprising, yeah.”

“Yeah?” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “So was I.”

“Oh, y-yes, my apologies. It’s all in the distant past for me, but for you, of course, it’s all rather different. There are very few of us now, who saw firsthand what the Envoys could do. Ah-ha. Yes. A-And I have to admit that I had a grudging admiration for you. Trained by Quell herself to be the most formidable fighting force that the galaxy had ever seen.”

“Well, that would sound better if we hadn’t lost.” Kovacs quipped.

“Although this might, might interest you.” Bancroft handed Kovacs a small leather-bound booklet. “Oh, it’s all corneal streaming now. There’s something about the simplicity of holding the written word in your hand. The very-very heft of it. As men have done for countless centuries before us.”

Kovacs seemed to leave the current plane of existence as he flipped through the book, fingers gingerly running over the pages. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it at an auction. Supposedly, it is written by Falconer in her own hand. Judging by your reaction, it appears I might have got what I paid for.”

Kovacs snapped out of it, bundling the book back up and clearing his throat.

“Listen to me. I spent this entire morning being well and truly fucked around with, so, uh, let me be painfully clear. Some things can’t be bought. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here,” he glanced down at me, “but I, for one, cannot. Now, I didn’t ask you to bring me back into this world. In fact, I fought a war to stop people like you from happening.” Kovacs began to step closer to Bancroft. “So, if someone doesn’t tell me right now what the fuck this is all about… I might very well lose my temper.” He smacked the booklet into Bancroft’s chest, and I felt my cheeks begin to grow flush.

“Understood. Now, this is a full pardon, signed by the president of the Protectorate.”

Kovacs only gave a look of disbelief. “Power is a matter of influence, Mr. Kovacs. And I have had a great deal of influence at the UN. If you agree to my terms, your sentence will be reduced to time served. And then I will open up a very generous line of credit in your name. DNA trace accessible. And when the investigation is over, you may keep this sleeve or choose another. To your own specifications.”

Kovacs said nothing, and I hung back. Bancroft turned to me.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ms. Griffiths. Your parents will be pardoned as well.”

My heart immediately felt like it was going to blow a hole through my chest.

“Finally, I will pay you both a salary of 50 million UN credits. That’s a fortune. You can have any future you want.”

Blood kept rushing to my head, and my ears felt red hot. My vision blurred, and my body began to shake. I felt ready to pass out. Bancroft began to speak again, walking away this time. Kovacs gently put a hand on my waist and guided me to follow, sensing the loss of equilibrium within my body.

“All I ask is that you solve a murder.” Bancroft pulled a white sheet off a wall.

“Whose?” Kovacs stopped us both in front of the blood-splattered wall.

“Mine.”

“This is where I died. When Miriam found me, my head had been vaporized.”

Kovacs’ hold on me had grounded me enough for him to let go. He began to pace the room, and I looked over the brains on the wall.

“It’s an energy weapon?” Kovacs asked.

“Yes. A particle blaster. I keep one for personal protection in a biometric safe that only Miriam and I can open.”

Kovacs and I immediately shared a look, and Bancroft caught on. “Go ahead. Say it. Everyone else has. Either I committed suicide, or my wife murdered me.”

“But you’re still here, meaning your stack is intact, so… you must remember what happened.” The light hit Kovacs in a new way, and I noticed the scar on his sleeve’s eyebrow.

“I’m afraid it’s completely destroyed. RD’d, as they say.”

“So how?”

“Full-spectrum DHF remote storage backup?” I asked.

Bancroft nodded and Kovacs looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Do you know what that is?” Bancroft asked him.

“Yeah. Just never met anyone filthy rich enough to afford it.” Kovacs scoffed.

Bancroft seemed like his pride was hurt, but he shrugged it off. “Well. I need to show you two something.”

He led us up the stairs to where he had been lurking when we arrived. Kovacs and I shared a look as we followed. I had to double my pace to keep up with Kovacs, who was more likely than not over a foot taller than me.

“Sometimes I come up here when I have decisions to make or difficulties to face.” Bancroft began. “I think about the ancient explorers, back when one could spend a lifetime pursuing the possibilities of the Earth, the oceans, the stars.”

My eyes flickered around the maps and old news articles framed up on the walls. Humanity had landed on the moon for the first time over 400 years ago. These artifacts must’ve cost fortunes.

Bancroft sighed. “I was born in London. When I first moved to what was then, of course, known as the United States, it still had the faintest echoes of the new and brash culture that it once was.”

I glanced over at Kovacs, who was tinkering with something on one of the multiple desks. Bancroft said something about the age of adventurers, and I heard the beeping of a screen. I pulled my eyes from Kovacs and followed his line of sight. A telescope spun our way, and Bancroft gestured toward it.

“Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Kovacs and I shared another look, and he sensed my hesitation. He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back before taking a step forward, peering through the eyepiece.

“It’s a Protectorate satellite. Military grade.”

Bancroft hummed. “It is military grade, but it’s not the Protectorates. It’s mine.”

Kovacs’ face took on an unreadable expression as he straightened up, making a subtle effort to keep himself between Bancroft and I.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Every forty-eight hours, my stack is automatically needle cast to it.”

“So your current self has no memory of what happened?” I peeped up from behind the six-something, two hundred-something slab of muscle in front of me.

“No, whoever killed me pulled the trigger ten minutes before my backup went through.”

“Which means all of your memories from those forty-eight hours are gone.”

“Completely. There was an attempted hack on my satellite feed moments after my death. Somebody wants me dead.”

Kovacs peeked back at me over his shoulder. This time, I understood the look in his eyes. Who wouldn’t?

Kovacs took a breath before beginning to slowly circle Bancroft. “For all we know, you did try to kill yourself.”

“You just botched the job.” I deadpanned.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths, I am not the kind of man who would take his own life. And even if I were,” his eyes turned toward me with a menacing glaze over them, “I’d not have bungled it in such a fashion.”

Kovacs noticed and, once more, took a step in front of me.

“If I’d meant to die, I’d indeed be dead.”

Kovacs chuckled. “I don’t want your money. Or your pardon. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here, but I’ll take eternity on ice. Thanks.” He turned on his heel, and I scurried to stay at his side.

If he was out, then so was I. I didn’t trust Bancroft and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be stuck in this alone.

“You should take the day, Mr. Kovacs. Go into the city, remember what it is to feel alive. And then, give me your answer. O-oh, and please do take the book. Like everything else I’m offering you, it’s yours if you want it.”

Kovacs looked down at me, and I nodded up at him. Without another word, we made our way out of his study and, with the luck of Miriam not being around, out of the house.

***

In the car, Kovacs stared at his hands. He was beyond deep in thought. It seemed like a flashback that he was struggling to fight his way out of. He was adamant in his decision to be put back under. The driver was going to drop me off on main street in Bay City. I was going to see E.J. for the first time in almost a year. Kovacs would, as Bancroft had suggested, take a night in the city. After that, he would return to Alcatraz, and I would never see him again.

“Ms. Griffiths.” The driver caught my attention.

I looked up, seeing that we were pulled over on the main road. I blinked, and looked up at Kovacs.

“Guess this is goodbye?” I grinned.

He chuckled, but his own grin fell and he shook his head. “Don’t get involved with Bancroft again. I’ve been around long enough, and people like him don’t change.”

I nodded, watching his eyes as they deepened while he thought. “I won’t. Don’t worry about me.”

He met my eyes, and his grin returned. “Stay safe, kid. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, I suggest you keep it.”

I nodded. “I will. Be safe, Kovacs.”

“Takeshi.” He spoke as I opened my door, ready to get out.

“What?” I looked back.

“Call me Takeshi.”

I smiled, knowing I’d never see him again and that it wouldn’t matter what I called him.

“Goodbye, Takeshi.”

“Goodbye, Nova.”

***

I ran through the rain, dodging the group of teenagers doing the same. I shouldered the metal door open and ducked in, out of the weather. The air inside was stale and there were cobwebs in each corner of the lobby. After it had begun to pour, E.J. had called and asked me to meet him here. It looked like the hotel hadn’t been touched in a few years, give or take. More likely give.

“Eli?” I called out, clutching my bag over my shoulder.

“Ms. Griffiths, welcome.”

“Holy shit, it’s still you?” I turned to Poe, the AI that ran the place.

“It’s not like anyone stays here anymore. No need for an upgrade.”

I turned on my heel and saw E.J. sitting at the bar, drink in hand.

“Dude, you are nineteen, put that shit down.” I made my way over to him, stealing the glass of liquor and downing it. “Poe, stop giving my little brother alcohol.”

“He’s a paying customer, Ms. Griffiths.”

I rolled my eyes and held my arms out. E.J. stood from his seat and embraced the hug, rocking me back and forth from side to side. We had stayed at the Ravel Hotel on one occasion, for two months straight. Our parents were off-planet for a racing event, and they had left us with our uncle. He died in a gang-related shootout two days into our parents’ trip. After a week on the streets, we found our way into The Raven. We had gotten in contact with our dad, and he sent the money to Poe.

“How’ve you been?”

I sighed as he finally let go of me. “It’s been kind of crazy.” I sat down next to him.

“Tell me about it?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, Poe?”

“Yes, Ms. Griffiths?”

“Nova.” I corrected him. “You’ve known me since I was 12, you can call me by my first name. Can I get a-”

“White Russian, White Russian!” E.J. shouted.

“Eli, stop.” I giggled before looking back at Poe. “Fine. Two White Russians please.” I grinned.

I held my finger to the pay-spot on the bar, pulling it away once it clicked. Poe shuffled our drinks out, and I handed one off to E.J. The door opened, and Poe fluttered over to the front desk. E.J. and I didn’t bother looking over. Probably just some sick freak who needed to get his rocks off. He grinned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I rolled my eyes as he held the pack out to me.

“You can’t say shit, I’m 19.”

“Stop being cocky.” I pulled one between my lips and held it up to the lighter he held in his hands.

“Never.” He grinned again as he took a drag of his own cigarette. “So. Who’s the target?”

I scowled. “It fell through.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose a target? What happened?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned in. “You know Bancroft?”

E.J. snorted, blowing his cigarette smoke in the other direction. “The fucker who thinks he’s god?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Made this whole big deal about how his last sleeve got his brains blown out but his stack stayed intact.”

“Sounds like he just fucked the job up.”

I grinned. “Exactly what I said. So we split.”

“We?” He repeated, again raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you play well with others?”

“Shut up.” I shoved his shoulder. “It was gonna be a special case. Turns out god is just a fucking moron.”

The door opened again, and this time we looked up. There was no way that many people were just coincidentally here. I immediately rose and pulled E.J. along with me as four men and one woman, all with guns, barged in. I looked toward their intended target.

Takeshi?

“He won’t be needing a room. So much for Envoy Intuition. Voodoo bullshit.”

“Envoy?” E.J. hissed at me as I pulled him to duck behind the bar.

“Just shut up. Do you have anything on you?”

“What?”

“Weapons, Eli.” I hissed back.

He patted himself down, and I pulled my blade from my bag and flicked it open. It was the only good thing my father had left me with. A dagger that transformed into a sword with the flick of a wrist. Eli twisted a silencer onto his gun and matched my position.

“Pardon me, wayfarer, we’re in the midst of conversation.” I heard Poe.

“Shut up, you piece of digibrain shit. My microwave is smarter than you.” The man with his gun on Takeshi’s neck snarled.

“I just want one thing to go right today.” I heard Takeshi’s gruff voice.

“Clearly.” Poe sighed.

“Too bad.”

I began to creep up from my toes, onto my knees. Takeshi turned to face the first man, holding his hands behind his back.

“They said you’d be dangerous. I thought you’d be bigger. They made me bring all this backup. What a waste of my time. I don’t need them.”

By now, I was on my haunches, peering up over the counter of the bar. Poe made eye contact with me and gave the slightest shake of his head. Although he was just a bundle of code, Poe had become more human than some people. He cared about E.J. and I, in his own strange, AI way.

“Fuck you, Dimi.” One of the men hissed, only to earn a bullet to the head.

Dimi? I had to take this fucker down for sure. I’d never have to work another day in my life.

“I have to clean that up.” Poe sighed.

“What?” Dimi growled.

“Uh, he had it coming.” Takeshi nodded. “He was rude.”

E.J. had made his way up next to me, gun held tightly. Poe shook his head at us once more.

“I could take you myself without even breaking a sweat.” Dimi got in Takeshi’s face. “Move.”

He shoved Takeshi to the middle of the group, which meant that they all now had their backs to us. Takeshi caught my eye over the counter, and his eyes widened. I gave him a cocky grin, and E.J. looked between the two of us, confused.

“Good sir, I cannot assume host prerogatives without payment.” Poe urged Takeshi.

“You want to get him a hot towel?” Dimi taunted. “You’re some kind of moron, staying in an AI hotel. Possessive like a crazy girlfriend. No one stays in them anymore.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

Dimi hit the top of Takeshi’s spine with his gun, and the Envoy crashed to the ground with a grunt. I made my choice. I tapped Eli’s gun and pointed my sword toward the woman, who was the closest to us.

“For guest amenities, please, touch the screen.”

Dimi hit Takeshi in the face this time, sending him sprawled onto his back. Eli and I stood slowly, boots silent against the wooden floor. He was taller, and by now, far stronger. We nodded at each other, and he clapped a hand over her mouth. I knocked her gun out of her hand with my sword, catching it in my hand before it could clatter to the floor. The others were too distracted with beating Takeshi up to notice.

Poe’s cold eyes flickered between Takeshi getting his shit rocked and us. The woman struggled, and I made another quick decision. I cut her throat, and Takeshi began to speak at the same time, covering the gurgling sound. E.J. grabbed her now limp sleeve and dragged her to the side.

“It’s not voodoo, which, by the way, absolutely is bullshit. It’s a form of subliminal pattern recognition.” Takeshi began to explain, keeping his eyes ahead as he crawled back toward Poe.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dimi grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up, putting his gun to Takeshi’s face.

As Dimi continued to threaten Takeshi’s sleeve, if not his stack, E.J. and I continued our quiet routine. Another man down, another sleeve thrown aside.

“You know, it’s about the details.”

Another hit, Takeshi landing back onto the coffee table. I flinched, surprised it hadn’t broken under his weight.

“Where’s the big bad boy Envoy killer from the past?” Dimi shouted.

“Twenty seconds.” Poe reminded him.

I grimaced. I couldn’t make my way to the front desk and do it for him without being noticed.

“Fight, goddamn it! What, you lost your balls? Did something change while you were down?”

Takeshi got back to his feet, staging himself between the back desk and Dimi. “Nothing changed.”

Two kicks to the stomach. I had enough. I looked at Eli and gave him a nod.

“People like you are still stupid.” Takeshi ended up at the front desk, finger in the right place.

E.J. took his first shot, and Dimi turned at the small noise. I thrusted my sword through another man’s chest. Poe lowered the machine guns from the ceiling, and I dropped to the ground, ducking behind a column to keep myself safe. I watched as E.J. did the same. Poe cocked a shotgun and began to shoot people down, and Takeshi began to pummel Dimi.

One of Dimi’s people tried to back behind a column, having the same idea we had. I counted the rounds that Poe’s machine guns fired, finding the right timing. I ran from the safety of my cover and plunged my sword into the man’s chest, dropping his sleeve down into the open fire. The men dropped like flies, and I kept my eyes on Takeshi. He round-house kicked Dimi in the stomach, and I swallowed hard. It was rather difficult to deny just how attracted to him I was becoming.

“Nova!”

I turned toward E.J.’s voice, only to see a man much bigger than me coming my way, a knife in his hand. I struggled to scramble to my feet, slipping in the blood of the sleeves I had killed. I fell flat onto my back and held my sword up, hoping I had enough coordination to shield myself from his knife.

There was the sound of Poe’s shotgun, and the men fell down on top of me. I groaned as I felt his knife slice through the skin of my thigh. The only person left was Dimi. Takeshi had him cornered against a sofa, fist raised.

“Who sent you?”

Dimi laughed, and I coughed, spitting blood aside as E.J. came running, pulling the sleeve off of me. I felt my consciousness begin to slip away, and I struggled to stay awake. E.J. pulled me up to sit, letting my back rest against a column. I watched from behind heavy eyelids as Takeshi put Dimi in a chokehold.

“Who sent you?”

He squirmed his way free, putting himself in the direct way of the machine guns. Takeshi urged Poe to hold back, but Poe didn’t listen. Dimi went down, and Takeshi sighed heavily.

“Ask this of your microwave, miscreant.”

Poe became quiet once he sensed that he had done something Takeshi didn’t like. “Apologies. Your room beckons.”

“Bite this.” E.J. shoved his leather belt between my teeth and didn’t give me time to react before pulling the knife from my leg.

I couldn’t help the scream that tore through my throat. Takeshi’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to our sides, hand immediately coming to my shoulder. He ripped a sleeve off and immediately began to tie it around my wound, flinching when I did.

“Nova, what happened? Are you okay?”

I coughed, and blood speckled onto his white button-up. E.J. brushed my hair out of my face and I winced.

“Sorry, Takeshi.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fucker nailed me when he dropped.” I pushed out, feeling light-headed once more.

“I can stitch her up.” E.J. grabbed my hand, squeezing it to try and keep me awake.

“No.” I hissed.

E.J. knew what he was doing, but it always hurt like a bitch. Takeshi looked me over and sighed, pulling me off the column so that he could hoist me into his arms.

“I’ll help you hold her down.” He adjusted me bridal-style and stood.

“God, fuck you both.” My voice was scratchy, and the lights began to look spotty.

“Just rest, Nov. We’ve got you.” Eli whispered, and I let the darkness consume me as my sleeve went heavy in Takeshi’s arms.

***

“What happened to a meal, getting laid, and restacking forever?”

I looked up from my plate to see Ortega walking over to us, hands on her hips. Takeshi took a drag of his cigarette before looking her way.

“I got interrupted.” He downed a shot.

“Who the fuck are these guys?”

“I don’t know.” Takeshi shrugged. “But they knew me.”

“Di-”

“They called you by name? Are you sure?” Ortega cut me off and I sighed, going back to pushing around the pasta on my plate.

“Eat.” Eli urged me.

I sighed again. “I really don’t want to.”

“Kristin!” The man Takeshi and I had seen drop off Bancroft’s son was there, working on the scene. “Four of them are just local muscle, but this sleeve is registered to Dimitri Kadmin. Ulan Bator registry.” He showed Ortega the tablet in his hands.

Ortega punched his arm, excited. “We got him.”

“Got who?” Takeshi looked over at me.

“Dimitri Kadmin, hitman out of Vladivostok.” I cut Ortega off this time. “Otherwise known as Dimi the Twin. Does a lot of work for the yakuza. Bastard doesn’t trust anyone, so he double-sleeves.”

“Isn’t the penalty real death?” E.J. asked.

Ortega’s partner nodded. “We hold onto his stack, and sooner or later we catch the other version of him out there, and then he’s done.”

Ortega let out a string of curses, and her partner looked her way. “What, what’s going on?”

“Stack is fragged. Not enough left to spin him up to interrogate. Fuck.”

“You couldn’t just disable them?” Ortega hissed at Poe.

“I was coming to the defense of my first guest in about a decade.” Poe took a shot of his own.

“With enough firepower to bring down an airplane.” Ortega spat back.

“Hey, Poe is fully licensed for customer protection. You know that. Not to mention, I got fucking knived.”

“You’ve shot people for less.” Her partner reminded her, and she brushed him off.

“So, Dimitri’s a high-end hitman?” Takeshi spoke up.

“Yeah, top of the line.” Ortega scowled.

“Then Bancroft’s death wasn’t a suicide.”

“Of course. Because who would wanna kill an asshole like you?” Ortega’s partner scoffed.

“Plenty of people. A few centuries ago.” Takeshi lit another cigarette.

Resleeved in the body of a hard-core nicotine addict was how he had put it.

“Kovacs doesn’t merit this kind of hit unless they wanna stop him from looking into Bancroft’s death.” I put together what Takeshi himself had been getting at.

“Instead of blaming us, how about you apply your impressive policing skills.” Takeshi scoffed at them.

“Less than eight hours out of the tank, and you’re already up to your eyes in organic damage and real death.”

Takeshi grabbed his unicorn backpack, which I had learned an hour ago was full of illegal street drugs, kissed the top of it, and slung it over his shoulder. He held his hand out for me, and I looked between him and E.J. My little brother nodded at me, and I took Takeshi’s hand, letting him help me off the stool.

“I could find a way to arrest you two for this.” Ortega threatened.

“Yeah?” Takeshi taunted as he led us past them. “You make up your mind, we’ll be upstairs.” He helped me stay steady as we wove through the sleeves strung on the floor.

Ortega tried to come after us, and her partner grabbed her, pulling her back and telling us to leave it. My foot slipped over a piece of glass, and I winced, grip on Takeshi’s hand tightening.

“Here.” He held my hand with one of his and grabbed my waist with the other, letting my weight rest against his side.

I felt like I was going to faint as his muscles moved under his shirt, rubbing against my own body. He hit the button to our floor and closed his eyes. I felt his body relax, but his grip on my waist stayed firm.

“Takeshi?” I whispered, looking up.

He met my gaze.

“I need to take the case. These people know who I am. I can't put my brother at risk like that.”

He only nodded and looked forward once more. His eyes fluttered shut, and he seemed to be absorbed into another flashback, like he had been in the car after we met Bancroft. It seemed to entrap him even as he led me to my room. He was fighting hard, his fingers beginning to bunch up the material of my shirt. I said nothing, returning the reassuring hand on his back. He helped me get to my bed, and, without a word, tears forming in his hazel-green eyes, turned and walked out of the room.

I laid on my back and sighed. This man was torn apart beyond belief, but he was a force to be reckoned with. This would be, by far, the most intense job I had ever and would ever work.

[1000generations]

OC Questionnaire

I sat down to work on my fanfic wip, then ended up reading writing advice where this questionnaire was passed around. I filled it out then took a nap. lol No progress on the wip.

But I thought it'd be fun to pass around these questions. And I'd love to read everyone's answers for their ocs.

I tag @melisusthewee @yukichouji @webbsiee @elenthi @occorner @redinkofshame @blueheaded @darethshirl @emerald-amidst-gold @enasallavellan @iridescentmemoria @for-the-ninth @notebooks-and-laptops @oxygenforthewicked @dreadfutures @rosella-writes @little-lightning-lavellan @the-dreadful-canine and@wickedwitchofthewilds. No pressure of course! You all have probably filled this sort of thing out before.

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Fen’Asha

Role in story: The Inquisitor (post-trespasser)

Physical description: Blond, slightly curled hair, fit physique, has claw scars on her back, has a prosthetic right arm.

Age: early to mid thirties

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type: INFJ-A (I didn't realise we have the same personality type. Write what you know right?... but I am an INFJ-T so we aren't exactly alike. lol)

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear? Life having no meaning

Inner motivation: To protect those she loves

Kryptonite: Rejection

What is their misbelief about the world? That she is more responsible for what happens to others then is true / Prone to taking blame onto herself

Lesson they need to learn: She must ultimately accept herself, not have herself worth live and die in accordance to other's opinions or what she can do for them

What is the best thing in their life? Faith

What is the worst thing in their life? Pre-Inquisition - Being directly responsible for her Father’s death, the person she was closest to prior Inquisition. He taught her to question myth and legend. Was teaching her more of Fen’Harel at a ruin when she accidentally killed him. Post Inquisition - Discovering her ex-boyfriend is the ancient mage/god figure she projected her hopes and dreams on.

What do they most often look down on people for? Thoughtlessness

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive? Discoveries of truth concerning history/reality

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way? Quality time – Most likely Sera her best friend.

Top three things they value most in life? Freedom, Knowledge, Passion

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why? The Raven Necklace, Fen’Asha has always kept necklaces as symbols of her faith/life’s purpose. Originally the wolf necklace, symbolising her role in clan Lavellan, then Fen’Harel’s prayer stone necklace symbolising her devotion to the dread wolf, now the raven necklace which helped transport her to another world.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom. In the modern world - Keeps her hair in a ponytail, t-shirt and a jacket or cardigan depending on the weather. Jeans or shorts with boots

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life? Fennie, Inquisitits (Sera), FenFen (although I don't think I wrote that in anywhere, but it's what I call her)

What is their method of manipulation? Will attempt seduction.

Describe their daily routine. Get up, dress, eat, brush teeth, do hair, research/errands/work, lunch, research/errands/work, supper, visit with friends, shower, relax, sleep

Their go-to cure for a bad day? Have a drink, spend time alone

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life? In the story I'm working on - She is guarding her ex, Solas. She has a lot of resentment and distrust of him but also respects him, still feels a pull and hates that she does. It's a mad web of emotion, a lot of love/hate. But she can't get space cause she has to make sure he doesn't return to Thedas.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment? Death lol …More likely a new found family and Solas uncharacteristically dropping his mission to destroy Thedas as she knows it.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality? She can open up to others, be vulnerable and find new loved ones.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already? She is used to keeping her inner most thoughts to herself, she doubts others could really relate to her. As the first of clan Lavellan she was taught to hold herself apart to some degree in order remain objective.

How does they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of? Share interests and passions, bond over a good drink and stories. She has a history of not sharing her spirituality for fear of judgement (especially when following her idea of Fen'Harel throughout Inquisition). Thus she avoids rejection since she rarely gives people the opportunity to reject her inner most world.

[behindheremeraldeyes]

sasusaku month 2020 day 05- arrivals

title: Flying Home

summary: Airport AU - Sakura comes back from the Wind Country after almost 7 months and her boyfriend is there to pick her up.

a/n: I had this idea when I went to pick up my brother at the airport last year and I saw those vending machines with flowers. They were just so cute and I HAD to picture a SasuSaku scene from it! This is a small fluff and my beta-reader was a bit busy, so it’s also un-beta’d. I apologize for the grammar mistakes in advance, but I hope you can enjoy it! 

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.

.

'Just landed.��

Her message had arrived almost 15 minutes before, and ever since, his poor heart refused to settle. His eyes drifted from the watch on his wrist to the gate in front of him, his throat growing dryer by the second. He wasn’t wearing a tie and his shirt was a larger model, but suddenly, he grew aware of his own breath as it became hard to inflate his lungs.

At that moment, the buzzing of the airport was invading his ears, making it incredibly difficult for him to concentrate. Different voices in different languages were mixing together, and he could feel himself growing anxious, for none of those voices belonged to her. His hands began sweating, his heart paced up and Goddamn it, Sakura, why are you taking so long to retrieve two bags?!

Sasuke was really feeling like an idiot at that moment as he stood just below the yellow sign that read ’Arrivals’. He had been there for at least 40 minutes, waiting for his girlfriend who was expected to come out through those automatic doors any minute now. He was holding a bouquet of flowers he had just bought at one of those refrigerated vending machines, and he hoped he had chosen the right ones.

He was no expert in flowers or anything, but he was almost 100% sure that, at some point, she had mentioned liking the alstroemeria, so he ended up picking that bouquet. They were white with a dusty shade of red, and for some reason, he liked to believe they were quite fitting for welcoming his girlfriend home.

It had been almost 7 months since he had last seen her pretty, green eyes. She was crying on that day, saying how much she would miss him and everyone else, and how he would better pick up the phone whenever she called him, despite the different time-zones. As a doctor, she had been offered a chance to work overseas in a small hospital for disadvantaged communities, and she couldn’t find it in herself to say no. Ever since she graduated from med school, he remembered how much she wanted to help those in need, and even if it would take her away for a couple of months, there was no way he could not support her.

She had worked very hard for that, and finally, she was given a chance. He could never stand between her and her dreams, and even if he would miss her, Sasuke had to let her go. Not forever, of course, but for the longest 6 months and 23 days of his life. Some days were lonelier than others, especially when she didn’t really pick up her phone, but at last, she was back where she belonged.

Haruno Sakura was home. And even if he was able to withstand so long without her, those last minutes were putting his self-control to test.

Sasuke was growing impatient now, his right foot tapping rhythmically against the floor. He looked around one more time before deciding to check his wristwatch, and he grew angrier when he realized it had barely passed 3 minutes since he had last checked. He glared at the pointers, as if threatening them for not moving fast enough, and that was when he realized he had to calm down. That would be the first time they would be seeing each other after so long, and by no means could he welcome her with a bothered face.

He took a deep breath, then, closing his eyes for an instance as if to allow the anger in his system to dissipate. Mentally, he counted up to 10, and slowly, he opened his dark orbs again. He was feeling a bit better now, and for a moment, he actually believed he had managed to control his flourishing emotions. Everything was back to normal, as expected from his cool and stoic nature. 

But that normal only lasted until he looked at his watch again just to see that only 1 minute had passed.

Fuck this, he thought, clearly forgetting about all that inner peace he was aiming for. Even if he was very aware of the consequences of trespassing certain areas of the airport, at that moment, Sasuke was actually considering the idea of going all the way to the baggage area so he could do something productive instead of just keep waiting out there.

Yes, that really seemed like a good idea. However, before he could defy the airport security, the automatic doors in front of him opened, and a sea of people started walking out of it. 

The people who stood by his side were now smiling and waving at their loved ones. Eyes were widening in a moment of pure happiness, and he could almost feel how tight they hugged each other. It was a very heartwarming scene, indeed, but the Uchiha just couldn’t find it in himself to care about those strangers. His eyes moved frenetically, searching for his girlfriend in the middle of those nameless faces, and even if he didn’t think it was possible, his heart was beating even faster now. 

She had to be there, he thought. His free hand had now turned into a fist as he moved his head so he could have a clearer view of the people coming through. Some were shorter, others were taller, some were just kids and others walked by hand in hand. There were all kinds of people there, but he only cared about one.

And once he saw that pink hair of hers in the middle of that crowd, a wave of relief hit him, and after so long, it was as if he could finally breath.

As soon as he landed his eyes on her, it was as if a huge weight was lifted from his chest. There she was, at last, and even from afar, he could see the changes in her form. 

Her hair was longer, to the point where she had tied it into a small ponytail, and her bangs were now framing her face. Her skin looked a bit tanned, as if she had been kissed by the sun of the Wind Country, and her green eyes looked even brighter than before. She also looked quite adventurous, wearing a plaid-green shirt, dark jeans and the dark brown tracking-boots they had bought before she left; and at that moment, even without hearing a word from her, Sasuke could tell she was a different woman.

She looked stronger, now, more mature. She was probably tired from the flight, but there was something about the atmosphere around her that made her stand out. That girl looked very different from the one that had left all those months before, but as soon as their eyes connected and she smiled oh-so-tenderly at him, Sasuke could tell she was still the same Sakura— she was still his Sakura.

And at last, she was home.

When her green orbs saw him, it was possible to see her eyes beaming with joy. She waved vigorously at him, a wide smile spread across her face, and he watched as the backpack behind her started jumping a little when she fastened her pace. Sakura was sure looking like a child at that moment, and even if he would normally act concealed around her, not even he could suppress the soft smile that took over his lips as he slowly waved back. 

He simply observed as she tried her best to make her way towards him, and he couldn’t help but giggle when he saw her trying to dodge an old lady that was walking slowly in front of her. It was obvious that she was in a rush to be with him, and as soon as the path in front of her was clear, the Haruno girl wasted no time before literally running towards him. The wheels on her suitcase were rolling as she quickened her pace, and even though she was just a couple of meters away from him now, he soon realized Sakura showed no intention of stoping.

“Sasuke-kun!” She practically screamed in pure happiness, her eyes set on him with a fierce objective. 

His eyes suddenly widened at her excited approach, and all he could do was brace himself for the impact. Her hands irresponsibly let go of the suitcase, and if not for his good reflexes, it would’ve kept on rolling around the airport. He used his free hand to stop the moving bag, and by the time he returned his attention to the girl, she had already thrown her arms around him in an incredibly tight embrace.

Her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore, and he could feel her hot cheeks pressed against his neck. Her hands were pressed against his shoulders, and though he was certainly not expecting her to literally throw herself at him, it didn’t take long before the Uchiha got used to the feeling of having her back in his embrace. His eyes closed, then, finally answering her gesture. 

He wrapped his arm around her, bringing her even closer, as in fear she would disappear. Her scent filled his nostrils and the warmth of her body made him tremble in pure bliss. God, he had missed her. Missed her body, her scent, her voice—just everything about her. They say the absence makes the heart grow fonder and it’s important for lovers to take a break every now and then, but at that moment, he couldn’t care less about what such stupid words. He never wanted to be separated from her again, and every moment they were apart only served for him to miss her even more.

Sasuke wanted to be with her for the rest of his days. And now that he was aware of such feelings, perhaps, he should consider doing something about that once they were back home.

When her grip around him loosened, he carefully placed her back on the ground, and slowly, her pink head lifted so she could look him in the face. Her cheeks were blushing, her eyes were shining and there was a smile spread from ear to ear. Sakura was really happy to see him, and he was certain his own happiness was also stamped on his face. 

“Hey, stranger.” She said, her voice soft and low, his ears delighted by the sound.

“Took you long enough to retrieve your bags.”

“Well, about that…” She giggled. "There was this kid trying to get his own bags, but they were too heavy for him. I had to give him a hand.”

“Tch, aren’t you tired of taking care of random children?” He teased, knowing her kind heart would never be tired of such thing.

“No, not yet.” She chuckled, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder.

“And how was your flight?”

“Too long! I just couldn’t wait to get home. I don’t think I was able to sleep at all!”

“Once we get home, try to get some sleep, then.”

“I certainly will.” She nodded, still smiling at him. “Oh, Sasuke-kun, It was so good working with those people! Though they thank us for helping them, we are the ones who should be thanking them for teaching us so many things! I have so much to tell you!”

“I can’t wait to hear it.” He said, honestly. “Your hair is longer, too.”

“Yeag, I guess it is.” She started, her fingers softly dancing around her pink locks. “I didn’t have time to cut it, but now that I’m back, I’ll ask Ino to help me with that as soon as I see her. Feels kinda strange, don’t you think?”

“You look great, Sakura.” He smiled at her, his eyes growing fonder. “Really great.”

The blush on her cheeks turned redder, and for a second, her eyes drifted from his. Sasuke watched as they stopped on his left hand, and it took him a couple of seconds to understand what exactly she had set her eyes on.

The flowers, of course.

“What are those?” She asked, curiously, though the answer was obvious.

“I've bought them for you.” He started, offering her the bouquet. She carefully took it from his hands, and when she lifted it near her eyes, he realized that, indeed, he had made the right choice.

“Thank you so much, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura said, her voice trembling in pure emotion. He watched as tears threatened to pool around her eyes, but she wiped them before they even had the chance ruin her face— not that her tears could actually ruin anything. “I love them. They’re beautiful.”

And I love you, he thought, being caught by surprise by his own thoughts. Though he had known it for a while now, the realization would always catch him by surprise.

“I'm glad you liked them.”

“Of course I do!” She chuckled. “I'm so happy to be home!” At that moment, as he saw her smiling with the flowers, Sasuke realized he had been contaminated by her joy. It was an emotional moment between them, and suddenly, he realized he wanted to be honest about his feelings. It felt odd to even think about verbalizing such things— especially since he has always been a man of few words— but he figured the moment asked for something unexpected.

“Sakura.” He started, his voice filled with tenderness and longing. His eyes were locked with hers and at that moment, he felt like he could look at her for hours so he could make up for all the lost time. He cleared his throat, then, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I've missed you. A lot.”

Though the words that came out of his mouth were simple and she could’ve concluded that just by the look in his eyes, listening to him actually saying that melted her heart, and suddenly, her lips started to tremble. Her eyes were turning redder, as if she was about to cry, and she nodded a couple of times before actually parting her lips to answer him. “I've missed you, too, Sasuke-kun. Like, really missed you. And though I loved being there, It’s so good to be finally back. To be finally home, with you.”

As she said those words, her eyes were filled with a mix of innocence and fondness, and if not for all of those people around them, Sasuke would’ve kissed her on the spot. His heart was finally feeling lighter inside his chest, and he could never find the words to describe how that girl made him feel everything so vividly. From the sadness of seeing her go, to the happiness of having her back, she was the one to be blamed for every skipped beat of his heart and for every smile on his face.

When she first left, Sakura took a part of his heart with her, and now that she was back, Sasuke could finally feel himself whole again.

Once more, they were side-by-side, and now—well— they could go back to their wonderful life.

Once more, they could go home together.

“It’s good to have you back, Sakura.”

She wiped a tear that left her eye, a huge smile on her face now. “Thank you for welcoming me.”

“Of course.” He said, picking the handle of her suitcase so he could carry it for her. “Now let’s go home.”

As they smiled at each other, they walked side by side, a little closer than necessary. Just two, young lovers like so many others, finally reunited.

Finally together.

fin.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Baby Moon

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 2959

———————

The queens first found her outside in their backyard seven months after their reincarnation. It was the middle of the night, they were watching a movie, and the full moon was out, bathing the city in hues of sterling and glimmering grey. And there, in their backyard, stood a naked girl with her head towards the glittering black sky.

She was paler than any person they’ve ever seen, as if the moonbeams had zapped all the color out of her skin and then bleached her with its own light. Her hair was the color of washed out gold, with only a few brown roots weakly reaching out from her scalp. If you were to cut open her wrists, they were sure her blood would come out silver.

The queens watched her from the windows and back door for a long time. They theorized that this girl was another reincarnate, but they had all been clothed when they came back, along with the ladies in waiting. Plus, it had been raining and day time. The night was clear with not a single cloud in sight.

Where had she come from? Who was she? What did she want?

So many questions ran through their mind, but only one thing kept blaring in Kitty’s over and over and over again.

Monster.

The girl outside doesn’t move. She just stays very still and keeps her head angled up to the moon. Rays of light were cascading down her back and rear and legs like a silver and white waterfall, painting her entire bare body with the essence of the night.

“Should we call the police?” Cathy asked nervously. Her hands were winding in the hem of her shirt like they did when she was worrying over something.

“She is trespassing,” Cleves agreed.

“No, wait,” Aragon said. “She isn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Aside from being naked on our property,” Jane muttered under her breath.

“I’ll go see what she wants.” Aragon said.

The others protested, but she assured them everything would be fine. However, she still brought a kitchen knife outside with her just to make them feel a little better.

Slowly, so slowly, Aragon crept up to the stranger. When she got closer, she could see the moonlight dripping into her skin, sinking into her back, melting into her chest. The others might not have known yet, but Aragon knew just looking at this girl—she was moonborn, called out only by the power of the moon.

That word, moonborn, made no sense to Aragon at the time. She had never heard of such a thing before and it sounded like a silly title pulled right out of a children’s tale, but something in her head told her it was important. It was important, but it would soon become the cause of great pain nobody would ever be able to fathom.

Aragon took another step forward and gently touched the girl’s shoulder; her skin was as cold as ice.

“Hello?” She called out. “Who are you?”

The girl shuddered under her hand. She turned around very slowly and Aragon gasped at the silver moons that blinked back at her.

———

The moon child asks to be called “Joan.”

It is difficult to communicate this at first, but then Aragon allows her to write it. Even when the color she chooses is bright chartreuse rather than the standard black, she doesn’t stop her. She’s been allowing her much recently.

———

Music is not a foreign thing to the moon child, although she was always lost in a tangle of thoughts and objectives. It‘s easy for chattering and scratching and flipping of parchment to drown out a melody, but it‘s easier for a weary body to absorb it.

It’s not the moon. It does not heal; it doesn’t even provide the respite that a bed does. But it is soothing, and it makes a rumble of something warm rise in her chest.

(She likes to rumble and trill and coo along to music, not really singing, not really vocalizing, but just following with soft noises of her own.

Kitty called it “alien speak.”

She stopped soon after that.)

For that, it is enough. Joan bows her head in gratitude after every rehearsal, thanking whoever was singing for the moment of peace. Sometimes she says it out loud, in her weak, creaky lunar voice. Other times she just smiles gratefully.

Aragon and Anne don’t seem to mind her silence. The moon child thinks they might even like her, just as she likes them and their songs. Even when the dark matter of Joan’s being weeps through the cuts in her skin and her bow is more akin to a slump, they still sing to her, even though she cannot answer their concerned glances.

But Kitty and Jane think she’s broken.

“Why doesn’t she speak?” Jane would ask, pleasantly pretending like she wasn’t in earshot. “We all spoke pretty easily after reincarnation. It’s been a month and she’s spoken, what ten words? But for some reason, she can learn several songs on a piano easier instead?”

“I don’t think we left her out in the moonlight for long enough,” Kitty would titter, and she would know that Joan was nearby. That’s why she said those things—to make her feel bad. “Or maybe aliens aren’t just suited for life on earth.”

Joan starts talking more, after that. She says things like a normal person and not a reincarnated lady in waiting from five hundred years ago that was strangely born from the moon. She acts normal, acts how she should, and acts the way people want her to be.

———

The moon child understands how goodbyes feel now, even if she’s not accompanied by a headless corpse or a weeping mother that’s foaming at the mouth.

Beyond that, she understands what it means to be taken by something, be it sickness, or power, or fear. Or grief. That one, too, will make you its own. That one especially.

Is her entire being not proof of that?

In the end, it is not just the river’s waters lapping at lonely London shores, having foreshadowed this weight. It is not just the mist of essence fading in the place of a friend. It is not just her mother and father, warping and vanishing in a strange, confusing dance. Not just her queen that bore a gown as silver as her eyes, resisting in the face of her own realization that the lunar being belonged to her more than the hot pink fiend. Not just the moons that gave her life.

It is so much more.

It is everything she cannot have and everything she does not want to do. It is frustration and selfishness and bitterness. It is want.

The moon child wants so badly. She wanted for her brother, and so she took what she could of what he gave, and built herself a name out of a throwaway title. She wants so badly for more of him, even if it means fighting. She wants back the little moments of closeness with anyone at all, moments she hadn’t thought to hold onto back when she was still under the illusion that she could keep them, keeping getting more of them.

How easy would it be, to solve things without just the cry of a voice if she hadn’t been destined to be silent and unloved?

How much easier, to bring life to fading hope and provide friendship for others? For herself?

She wants painfully for the small things like the shinier markers at the store, like the odd affectionate touches John used to give the top of her head. Like Aragon’s humming or Anne’s hugs or Jane’s forehead kisses or being one of the players in the theater games Cleves will start up or someone that inspires Cathy to create a character after her in one of her books. She even wants to get one of Kitty’s weird head bumps just to know she was important enough to receive one. She wants to hang out with Anne and Aragon more often because they tell stories and she likes that, and she wants the other ladies to accept her as one of them and not shun her as a creature of night that just so happens to know how to play piano.

But just as with the rising of the sun, none of this want means anything at all.

———

This much is clear: the moon child is a being of wanting. And she is regret, too, born of night and darkness, tucked and shaped into a frame too small to hold all this need. It is no surprise when the hairline fractures grow into cracks, nor when the cracks widen into gaping holes where the flesh has begun to collapse.

Joan is collapsing.

———

It gets easier to speak and act like everyone else as the days go by, but the jealousy and longing grows with it. She’s talking normally, but she’s envious all the time. She laughs and smiles and does everything as she should, but she’s always itching for affection.

The moon child begins to do things. Not bad things, just—things. Painting, for one. She thinks that if she makes presents for people then they’ll start to like her more, and it works for awhile, but then everyone just gets used to her offerings. Nobody hangs them up, unlike the art of fans, which get to be put up regally on bulletin boards and the sides of mirrors and on tables. Jane and Cathy even had their Instagram profile pictures as drawings some fans made for them.

But all of Joan’s paintings and sketches and colorings were pushed aside, tucked away inside drawers and crumpled up in purses to rot away into nothingness.

Nothing. That’s all they’ll ever be. And it’s all she’ll even be, too.

———

A bassist was sitting by one of the windows, staring dejectedly at the rain droplets pattering on the glass. The moon child notices when she’s making copies of some sheet music. When the bassist notices the moon eyes drilling into her, she turns away from them.

“Go away, Joan. Allow me to wallow in my own misery in peace.” She mutters harshly.

Joan would have left, if it weren’t for a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her to stay. She stands right where she was. Bessie raises her head.

“What are you doing? Leave. Go away. I have nothing for you. Go back to your music director business or whatever. Chase after Jane for the hundredth time for all I care. Just leave me alone.”

There was another job to be done, but Joan wasn’t sure what it was exactly. Bessie just repeated for her to leave the longer she stood. Again. Again and again and again. When the moon eyes refused to move, the bassist’s voice got increasingly more frustrated.

“Do I have to escort you out myself?” She hisses, standing and glaring deep into those pools of liquid silver.

Joan shook her head.

“Then what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t know.

“Let me be depressed in peace!”

Still there.

“Do you not understand what I’m saying?” Bessie opens her hands like they were claws.

Joan still stares at her.

“I am not going to fight you, if that is what you are looking for. This is hardly an appropriate place.”

Joan wasn’t looking for a fight. No, there is something else.

“If you are looking to gloat, just get it over with already!”

She isn’t there to gloat.

Even when Bessie drew her arm back, she still did not leave.

“Why are you still here?! It’s not like you care!” Bessie yells, flinging something nearby—a picture frame. It barely brushes Joan’s arm, and explodes into a cloud of glass against the wall.

Bessie was prone to aggressiveness and anger, but she would never attack so sloppily and so carelessly.

She wasn’t herself.

“Get…get out of here…”

Bessie’s voice cracks, crumpling to her knees. She hunches over on herself taking in a shuddering breath. Her shoulders began trembling as her entire frame was wracked with irregular shaking. High-pitched sobs emanate from her.

She wasn’t okay.

Joan took a small step forward. She wasn’t like Bessie, but maybe she could be like her for a little bit. There was quite a noticeable size difference between the two, but that wouldn’t be a problem.

Joan kneels behind her, wrapping her arms around the bassist. She felt Bessie freeze up, breath hitching for a second. She squeezes a little, rests her chin on the older musician’s shoulder, and closes her glittering eyes.

A hug. Would that make her happier?

The sobs became quieter. Joan remains crouched and hugs her, letting her grieve. She wants to say something, anything that might bring her more comfort, but the most she could do is hug her a little more and hope that it brought her some happiness like it did long ago.

After an unknown amount of time, she finally stops, slowly pulling back.

“Joan…?”

Joan responds in that silent way of hers, tipping her head in a form of recognition.

“Why did you do that…?”

“Affection makes people happier.” Joan verbally answers. She wants to ask if she was happier.

“You know...people—Jane and Kitty— said you’re just an empty monster...you’re supposed to leave. You’re not supposed to care.” Bessie mumbles, head hanging down. “You’re not supposed to care about anyone…so why did you stay? Why did you hug me? Why me? Why? I just-“

A tear was dripping down her left cheek, almost as silver as those moon eyes staring down at her with so much concern and longing. She rears back when Joan tries to touch her again.

“You’re not a monster, are you…?” Bessie whispers. Joan stares back in silence. “You’re not a monster at all. You’re none of those things. You’re...you’re good.”

———

“I know you're angry-” Jane was saying to the creature of night after yet another painful rejection. “But with how you were created-”

“Born.” The moon eyes burn. “I was born. And I've committed no crime by existing.”

———

Anne watches the moon child sitting at her side. She had come over to the queen’s house for a reason she couldn’t quite remember, but was now stuck inside due to a raging blizzard. She sat on the couch in the living room, on the opposite end of Anne, like she was afraid her presence would taint the queen with an infectious black matter.

What did she want?

The moon child brought her legs up and folded them against her chest slowly, as if through water, her joints stiff.

“It’d be better if I weren’t here.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

That made Anne blink. “Of course not.”

“You hesitated.” She brought her face close to her knees, letting her too light hair fall over her too shiny eyes.

Stop doing that. Stop reaching out and then pulling away. Can’t you see I’ll do anything you want, if you’d just tell me what that is? What do you want?

Anne lifts her head a few inches, stretching out the sore spots in her neck.

“Joan, come here.”

Joan remained curled into herself.

“I will not ask again.”

That seemed to work better. Joan shifts sideways, drawing closer to her former queen. Her shoulders jolted a little as Anne wrapped an arm around them, pulling the two against each other. And then, she was tugging the awkwardly scrawny and small moon child into her lap.

(Where she belonged.)

“I will protect you,” She chose her words carefully. “To the best of my ability.”

That didn’t seem like a good place to leave off. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I can’t be everything you want,” She continued, softer. “I can’t be Jane. But I’m here. And I want to take care of you, darling.”

She watched Joan’s head on her chest rise and fall with her breaths. A few beats pass before a small hiccup sounded from the lunar girl.

There were a few more hiccups that built up before they erupted into sobs, Joan’s shoulders heaving as they wracked through her. Loud whimpers and whines filled the air as Anne ran her fingers through the thick blonde tangles, rocking the poor, lonely moon child in her arms.

Joan cries steadily, head buried in her chest. Anne realizes that she didn’t even mind that a mess was being made down the front of her shirt.

Eventually the cries settle down, mixing together with the dull white noise of the television before fading off. Joan calms in her arms, snuggled up nicely, and it only gets better when Aragon joins their cuddle on the couch. Both queens hold the moon child, not caring about what anyone had ever said about her being wrong or weird or messed up compared to the other reincarnates. To them, she was perfect.

Their love filled Joan like the moonlight did. She had never felt anything so wonderful. She fit perfectly in their arms, like she had always belonged there.

And then, there was the gawker by the staircase. Joan could feel Kitty’s congealing resentment even from a distance. She could also feel Aragon and Anne’s love again, already half detached from everyone else, including the youngest of the bunch—Anne’s baby cousin. But Anne was just ready to give all her love to the moonborn pianist, not a distant family member born of daytime and rain.

Sorry, Katherine, Joan thought, settling back into the warmth and affection. Out there is my moon. And these are my mothers. And you will never be a part of that world.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Spera - Elias x Reader (Trespass)

Direct Follow Up To: Veritas GIF Credit: X

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ 

Author’s Note: *Story Time* Ha-! I went on holiday in September and there were a bunch of DVDs at the holiday home and no word of a lie, this was one of them and my parents wanted to see it. So, I kinda wanted to continue things from ‘Veritas’... and watching it again got me inspired (and I got to notice a bunch more stuff!) 

I was going to call this ‘What She Wants Tonight’ ... but then I decided to keep the Latin theme.

So you get Elias back-! 🎉

What She Wants Tonight - Luke Bryan  (Because of course it’s Luke Bryan)

Disclaimer: Trespass & associated characters not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine. / Call backs to Veritas / Kyle Sullivan (Guns for Hire) gets another name drop.

Premise: You hadn’t expected him to call you, of course. But then you didn’t think you’d expected to see him again either. On this mission you must work together. But it’s clear that that’s not your only objective...

Words: 7171

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Pre-Amble / I really can’t write action scenes.

_____ She walks up, velvet rope unhooks She snaps her fingers and a drink comes She locks you down with just one look She's got this whole club undone If she's on the rebound, you ain't gonna know it Coming off a heartbreak, she ain't gonna show it She's eyes caught, red dot, locked on me, yeah She wants my hands on her body She wants to burn like she's made of fire Said she ain't going home 'til we Drink every drop of Kentucky dry Don't even know what she'll do when she does it Palm of her hand, I'm hers in the blink of an eye She don't take no and I love She gets what she wants And I get to be what she wants tonight I get to be what she wants tonight I get to catch all her secrets Sequins bouncing off flashing lights If she wants it, then we're leaving Get me home, park the truck, cut the tires I get to be where she goes when she's lonely The last door of the night she's closing Oh, I know she could have anything, but And I don't know how I got to be The only thing she needs right now

---

To anyone who wasn’t aware, the building could have been a normal office block, the people going in and out certainly appeared to be normal office workers. A few of them were – in order to hide their organization, the first few levels of this building had been rented to businesses, but the rest of the block belonged to the Agency.

You stepped gently into the elevator and swiped your access card, pushing the elevator button for your floor you stood back against the mirrored walls and waited to ascend.  Of course, by the time you were to the floor, Joel was already busy running around gathering papers and talking loudly on phones… it was clear that you wouldn’t be here long, they would have you out the door as quick as they had you in. Joel was a little like a personal assistant. Although an ‘assassin’ in his own right he was more on the level of office worker casual, than your higher ranking. He was not your partner - although you did use him as such on occasion - and you were not his mentor, he had been taught the basics by others but that’s as far as he got. He was your go between, only top clients saw you face to face (and were always surprised that you was a woman) everyone else went through Joel, he arranged your payments and sent off your confirmation… sometimes he helped on intel, or clean up detail, but he also arranged transport and set things between your Superior and yourself. He managed to offer you a quick nod as he rushed around, which you gratefully returned… you ascended a flight of steps and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” You entered. “Y/N. Quick as ever to the call I see.” “There isn’t often a time when I cannot get here. I’d like to keep my records intact.” “And they are quite some records.” Your Superior indicated to the chair in front of him, “Please sit.” You did as was asked, crossing your legs one over the other. “…It’s a wonder to me why the Master has not called you up yet.” “Because he knows that I’m good at ground work. If you pulled me up another level then, of course, I would have jurisdiction over several assassin’s as you do, but I would only get called to field work in times of dire need… and We haven’t had a real firefight in close to 100 years. I would do better out there. Plus aren’t you all men?” you managed to crack a little smile, “I’m not indicating sexism, but…” He gave a small shrug, “They all think you’re male anyway. As we all go by codenames here.” “Yes there is that.” You nodded to the window, “Joel appears to be working hard on the next big thing already,” your eyes flicked back to your Superior, “I assume I am needed right away?” “Yes…” He handed you over a file “As you’re in the area, we thought that might take your fancy. It isn’t directly your job, but it does pay well.” You opened the file and raised an eyebrow, “Nilo? Again?!” “Several of these drug lords are untouchable. As you well know.” “Eh, they give good business, some even pay well,” you flicked the page, “these just seem to be calls for several underlings…” “Several big Russians are getting too big for their boots, too…” “So there’s a lot going on?” “I would only send my best to several jobs at once.” You took the second file from the desk, they all looked to be linked, “These guys aren’t in situ yet, are they?” “No. But we have it on good ear that they will be.” “So Nilo calls for the blood of the Russians, and some” you squinted as you read the name, “…This sounds like drug wars?” It had been a while; they weren’t exactly to your taste. Nilo was a very old client indeed – back when you were just starting out on your own. “You have connections.” “Yes. Joel is useful in that respect too… Does he know?” Joel would know the when and where and exactly what you’d need. You doubted he’d be doing so much rushing if he knew what this was really for. “You can brief him.” “Hmm. Well, it’s a good thing we focus on the numbers and not the side…” You stood, collecting the folders together, “Consider it done.” “Good. Your payment for yesterday has been wired. The man himself has been reported missing. I assume no body will turn up?” “Not on my watch. Unless someone asks for it specifically.” You waved the folders, “Expect some good news within the next few days.” “I always do with you, Y/N. Good luck.” “Thank you Sir. But I won’t need it.”

 As you exited the room and took the stairs you called to him: “Joel!” He fell in step as you hit the floor; “Can get the car out front, I’ve sent intel up to Marty, meet in 10?” “Sure, let me go see what our weapons tech has for me then… you ready?” “Sounds like there’s a war brewing.” “Drugs war. Hope you enjoy undercover.” “Me? Oh Geez…” Joel’s face told the story you expected “Well I’m not even supposed to be there am I? They don’t call me Ghost Shadow because they can see me, do they?” “It’s actuall-” “Don’t care, Joel, remember…” You looked to him with a smile, you’d never had much patience for whispered codenames, “Besides, you have the connections.” He scoffed, “Don’t rope me in with the drugs guys, Nilo’s just used me before.” “Yeah, but I want other side intel.” You tapped him in the chest with your folder, “Get it.” “Yes Sir.” “Funny.”

***

Your weapon’s technician looked as enamoured as ever to see you, his smile bright as you walked onto his floor: “Y/N!” “Marty.” “…Off already?” “One day I’m taking the first fight out to Cozumel and NOONE is going to stop me.” “If you ever get a break, considering what you do, I’m going to give you free range and let you clear out my weapons cache entirely.” “Oh? You’d do that for me?” You fluttered your eyelashes teasingly “Marty!” you tapped your card in, and opened the doors, “What do you have in?” “New? Since you were last in here?” “Don’t give me that tone! Because if there’s one thing I know, you are a collector and second, I haven’t been using this particular weapons store in my work recently, so, yes, new!” “Usually you carry your own pistol.” “Usually?” You gave him a wry smile, “Always. And I do, but everything else-” “What I like most about your pistol is its untraceable.” “Well. That’s how he made it.” “So it WAS his.” “Yes. It the least I could do to honour him.” “…Well, you are right, I do collect. I have several new rifles in, but you’re not such a fan. I also have a light weight sniper gun, and if you were ever interested in something smaller for close range-” “A pocket gun?” You chucked, “Bring it, a lot less messy than a knife.” “So they do work?” “Execution style. Yeah – anything will work if you want it to. I mean, sometimes us Assassins have to improvise; that said its always hoped things will never get that messy.” He slid the tiny gun across the table to you, “It’s not been road tested yet. But… I can think of no better person to try it out. Careful.” “Will be,” you patted it as you slid it into your top coat pocket, “and for Joel?” “What do you think he’ll need?” “You’ve read the file, you tell me! Don’t forget rope; the most useful thing you could give me.” “Kinda think a gun would be more useful.” “Rope saves lives, guns take lives. Get my meaning. Besides, how else do you expect me to ascend or descend a building?!” “Stairs!? A lift!? This is Nilo we’re talking about, it’s not exactly big budget. This isn’t Mission Impossible.” “Well it could be-!” You cracked a smile as Marty muttered under his breath, collecting everything up – he handed the bag to you, “Have a good trip. See you in a few days.” “Of course! Thanks!” *** Joel complained the whole way; it was to be expected - you were used to getting into the middle of gang and mafia warfare. Taking out politicians and heads of state. Drugs sometimes, on a higher level – but drugs carried its own problems… This, in particular, was way below your pay grade. “You’re too good for this.” “He’s fronting the right amount of money and he wants me.” “No, fact is you should have been off shit like this years back. You did some good jobs back then, but you’re above this now. And drugs?!? Y/N, you abhor drugs. It’s like your one thing.” “Look, if He sends me then I can’t push back.” “You have authority, surely?” “Well it’s a little late now. Next time I’ll think on it.” “Yeah well, you better.” His hard stare switched from you to the road. No doubt, Joel didn’t want to be mixed up in this any more than you. Perhaps it was about time you asked to politely be removed from anything related to them.

When you pulled into the parking lot he began grumbling even more. Of course Joel had most of the intel, maybe he’d need a little more research but, that’s what the first meeting was all about. Sometimes you thought he’d rather stay at HQ and feed you the info via a web link. “I mean, a strip club. Could this be any more degrading for you?!” Joel was about to launch into how the Agency should think before sending their best female agent to places like this, to stop the tirade you gave a smile and a joke instead. “As long as you’re not expecting me to get up and dance?” You nudged him, “Besides the girls all love you.” “Not interested.” Was his blunt reply, reaching into the back seat for his case. “Nothing will cheer you up today, huh?” “No. It’ll get worse.” You rolled your eyes, “Okay, so let’s get in, get it done, get out.”

*** To be honest when you’d left your card with Elias you never expected him to call it. Maybe hoped on it, but you’d been done with hoping after a few days; those had now bled into months - and you had plenty of kills under your belt since then (and a grovelled apology from Kyle Sullivan. He hadn’t called on you again since.) But your day got a little better as you wandered into the club and very nearly snorted, hiding your face and smirk behind Joel for a moment. “What?” “Remember when I told you about that little bit of trouble at Mr.Sullivan’s place?” “Yeah, I remember...” “Guess we just stumbled on where they came from.” If it had pleased you, Joel turned another shade of glum. “Brilliant.”

Indeed, though you looked pretty collected as you approached Nilo, Elias has turned sheet white. The others wouldn’t have noticed, you’d taken them all out before they saw your face. Well, maybe except the big guy but he was eyeing you with a certain level of curiosity, instead of what was going through Elias’ mind. Clearly not so happy to see you. You didn’t even spare him a proper glance, nodding to Nilo instead. “It’s been a minute.” “Indeed it has, Y/N. Welcome. We’ll certainly be glad to use your services once more…” “No use kicking around, I suggest we discuss the job.” You bowed your head gently, if only to say my pleasure - with a smirk. Because it would be your pleasure. Although, looking back to Elias you were sure that not everyone was glad. *** Elias didn’t really speak much during the briefing; you already counted too many people involved – and Joel was getting antsy. You’d just have to deal with it, you could do this alone but Nilo wanted to make sure everything was done to his letter – and therefore was sending a group along with you. You didn’t particularly understand this; did he think you were still a kid who’d only just started out? Reckless and a little dumb? You thought it was more likely the group he wanted to send were the ones who would mess everything up. Elias and Ty were amongst them. Elias, being the obvious one you knew – who did not like being under the weight of your stare – and Ty being the one you’d picked out as a potential problem back at Mr. Sullivan’s house. Elias’s brother, Noah, was also in on the meeting and a couple of guys who looked less tough than paper, who you would refuse to take when it came to your terms… but let Nilo think he’s in control, for now. Joel and yourself were now sitting at the bar of the club, him facing it with his laptop, grumbling like there was no tomorrow. And you facing the pole dancers, back against the bar. You’d never had the inclination to get up there and do that, but you were 99% sure you could; maybe one day you’d give someone a run for their money. Joel had ordered some cocktail that came with a lollipop and you wasted no time in stealing that. Your drink wasn’t alcohol, you didn’t drink on a job – Champagne was for afterwards. Joel was drinking to get himself through this one. “So?” “I can’t believe this.” “You’ve said that 20 times.” You removed the candy from your mouth, “I need, you know, something useful.” “I mean the complex itself is relatively easy to get into, you don’t even need the code, just fry everything. There’s multiple floors but there’s hardly anywhere that’s going to have cover…” He was staring hard at the schematic. “Why are we not going alone? The more bodies in a corridor the harder this is!” “Joel.” You warned. “Okay, you just need to get to the inner most point. It looks like one of those panic rooms.” You half turned to his screen as he tapped it, replacing the lolly with an agreeing hum. “Assured your guy, and whatever drugs or shit you gotta haul on back, is there.” He turned to you, looking more than a little disgruntled that he was having to do this, “I’ll make a couple of calls. It won’t be hard. And forgodsake, please do not drag this personal hell out for me.” “I’ll try.” You gave a gently sarcastic smile and he sighed. “And PLEASE stop doing that overtly sexual thing you do! Like, I don’t need it.” “It’s not for you.” “I think he’s a bad idea.” Joel eyes were back on his laptop, and you weren’t sure if his uncomfortable shift was just for show. You supposed he was only going to point back to his ‘degrading’ speech if you pressed further. “I didn’t ask you.” “No, and I can see why.” Of course you were playing a game here. You knew Elias was watching you – there wasn’t much out there you weren’t aware of. That was all part of your training. But you’d noticed that try as he might he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and you could busy yourself with being a seductress whilst also being teasing and paying him absolutely no mind. What you’d also come to the dissatisfying conclusion of was that his girlfriend was also here; oh, and she was not impressed. You didn’t really care, it was fun to play them against each other, in fact maybe it was more satisfying to have her here, realising exactly what you were doing. Because she was all over him and that was not an exaggeration, but Elias was pushing her out of the way to keep on staring at you. So, if Joel really didn’t think you were going to sit on this stool with your chest pushed out and your shirt riding up, sucking on a lollipop… well he should know better. You didn’t need to show too much skin: the idea was to let his imagination do the work. From what you could tell, Elias’ imagination was working overtime. Joel left you alone to make his series of phone calls outside, convinced that he needed air anyway. Which you’d laugh at of course, considering he’d probably kill his time outside smoking. At which point you turned back to the bar and gathered your thoughts – before you would begin to clear your head of everything but the mission. That was all that would matter for the next few days; that was all that had to matter. As you were pondering this however, you were approached by someone else, and you didn’t really have to guess who had made his way across the club to you. “Well, I see you can’t even call a number on a card, how do you expect me to think that you can pull this off?” Elias slid onto the stool next to you, tipping his head, “It’s not that simple.” You turned your eyes on him, “I get it, you have a girlfriend. Don’t tell me you’re not interested. And if you’re not, don’t come over here and talk to me, keep it strictly business.” He rummaged in his jacket pocket and your calling card was placed back on the table, “I wanted to.” You couldn’t help but smile as you stared at it, “Wanting is something you can say easily, the doing is the only thing I have use for.” Your fingers brushed his as you pushed the card back towards him, “Keep it, if you ever decide to become useful to me.” “Y/N…” The bar tender placed a drink in front of him without Elias even asking and your look away from him was enough to be an eyeroll, with the way you stared straight at the back wall. He spent enough time here for that then. He took a sip, eyeing yours. “You don’t drink?” “Not on the job no.” “Y/N, what are you doing here?” “I’m an assassin, I told you that. It’s like you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said since I walked in.” “Is that any surprise?” His voice was laced with sugar, which made you a little uncomfortable as you turned to him. Those blue eyes were watching your face intently, and if you thought that a man like him was capable of melting, that might be what you’d call it. “Please, Elias. Go back to your girlfriend.” There was a pause, before he leant into your space and you sighed in obvious frustration. “Why do you need two guns?” He indicated to the one on the counter that no one was paying any mind to, and then to your hip, partially concealed by your coat. “Assassin as good as you.” “Will you do what I say, if I tell you?” His smile became a grin that was more of a smirk, “Depends what you tell me to do.” You couldn’t help but hum a laugh as you unholstered the one on your belt, “That,” you waved at the one on the counter, “that’s my own, it’s no big deal. It’s probably standard issue – due an upgrade, but it’s never let me down. Call me superstitious, but I’d quite like to keep it around. This baby…” You weighed the one in your hands up. “Belonged to my mentor.” “The one that used to spew Latin before he killed people?” You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded: he remembered. “So why do you have it?” You placed it with your own and leant into him, you became a little huddle and lowered your voice, “Because he died, Elias. It’s in honour and memory of him.” There was a moment’s pause, and Elias wondered if you’d opt to continue the conversation, “…How? I mean your line of work is dangerous but-” “The Agency killed him, made me watch.” The flicker across Elias’ face was both apologetic and a revelation; ‘that might explain a few things’ “He fell in love with a target, he couldn’t kill her. Eventually the Agency found out and executed him.”  It was weird for you to just out and say it like that, it jarred you – you weren’t sure what you were thinking, saying something so personal. You were supposed to have better instincts than that. Did you trust him? There was something cold about the way you were talking that didn’t fit with the look on your face, and Elias tipped his head – “But you’re working alone now, you have no mentee of your own?” He seemed to be asking if that process would be too painful for you. Instead you gave a shake of your head, “No. I have no patience for that. I would be no good, not yet anyway. Not all of us make it through the process – hence why Joel is my assistant and not an assassin himself. He has all the skills, he didn’t pass all the tests.” You frowned momentarily, then shrugged, “I’ll probably die doing this, or see myself old enough to take my bosses job. Though, I’ve never been much of a girl for desk work.” Elias would agree with that, “How long have you been doing this?” “…That’s… a little too much of me to expose to you.” Oh, but you liked this didn’t you? Talking to him. To someone who was actually interested in you. “I never knew my parents. The Agency has a specific way of testing kids at orphanages and such. There’s no attachment, nowhere for the kids to run. Still, they take care of you better than some children get treated by their own parents so, I guess there’s a win somewhere.” Something twinged in Elias by the look on his face, making you realise you’d touched on something that was a little too much of him to expose to you. You left it alone. “I guess you have a point there.” “Uh huh.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you looked over his shoulder, this girlfriend of his had spotted the two of you talking and the livid look on her face was only making your ego swell a little. There was no way she didn’t know he was into you, and you were invested enough in the conversation to have some attachment to him. You wondered if he’d told her about your kiss, if it was obvious to her by the way Elias looked at you. But he was still watching your face, even when you turned away, the way you were smirking and clearly enjoying yourself, “What?” He was clearly amused, he hoped it was him. “Your little girlfriend is about to blow a fuse.” Elias’ face fell instantly as he looked over his shoulder, “Oh-” “She a dancer here?” He didn’t need to nod, “You walking cliché.” You nudged him off his bar stool, “Go. Go on.” “Try not to miss me.” He shot back, hands getting a little too friendly as his touch lingered on you. Instead you scoffed, picking up your cup, “Trust me, I won’t.”

 ** You kicked around for another day and a half, longer than you would have liked, but once Joel had his intel sorted the small group you assembled had to make the plan water tight. Which means they listened to you, no questions asked. Ty was about the only one you really trusted, he was built for this and he took an interest in you for reasons you thought were kind of unhealthy; not an assassin, you could tell he was probably going to enjoy this. You never took enjoyment from killing – it was just your job. Still, Ty was quiet and nodded along. Elias didn’t. And to be honest, if you weren’t having so much fun playing him and Petal – you’d tried not to snort – off against each other, you’d be more pissed with him than you already were. “She is NOT coming on this mission!” “She always tags along.” “You’re not running this mission Elias, I AM. And there’s only one thing I have a hard stop on, and that’s drugs.” Before he could protest the irony of what you were doing you continued, “She’ll fuck the whole thing up and I know you know that. I will not take drug dependants on this mission. Or we can take her, but I’ll put a bullet in her head the second I feel I have to and I won’t hesitate.” “---You’re…. insane!” “It’s my job. I don’t fail on my tasks; your little gang of tag-alongs are not going to change that.” “Then I won’t come.” “Well don’t. Explain to Nilo why, for all I care.” Elias sighed, faltering on the fact you would give him up so fast, a little too easily for someone who wanted to labour a point, “Okay. Okay… I’ll tell her.” “You better…” He turned away but you pulled him back by his jacket, “Woah, hey. Your brother’s not coming either.” “Oh my god-” “Because he’s the opposite problem. He’s not taking his medication and he’s erratic. You think I can’t read tells?” “No, on this I might be inclined to agree you have the right idea.” “So we’re agreed, on the same page.” Elias didn’t meet your eyes as he nodded, “Yeah.” “So we’re getting somewhere.” Your arms folded, confident little smile making him give you that same melted look. Scratch all previous thoughts, Elias was easier to play than a deck of cards. You wondered how long he’d spent looking at your calling card and desperately wishing to call the number. You wondered why Elias hadn’t already. What was his real reason? He could give you as many cocky smirks and sarcastically suggestive little quips as he wanted – you could see right through him. “I thought we already were.” *** You should have bet on how much complaining Joel was going to do, by the fact that he was muttering curses in more than one language under his breath. For the first part of the journey you thought it was funny, and responded in kind. Linguistics was a nice hobby, and Joel and yourself had a healthy competition on how many you could learn. Aside from that, it was good business practice. For the second half of the journey you settled into silence, closing your eyes and taking yourself through all your focus meditation and breathing exercises – before checking and double checking your weaponry. Then triple checking it – obviously. All with Joel still grumbling on, and Elias and Ty asking each other if this was something they ought to be doing. Joel slowed the van and parked up, the complex was in view, but you were out of sight. You had split yourself into two teams: Elias and yourself, and Joel and Ty. You would clear the first few floors together – without breaking a sweat – and then they would go on look out and you’d take out the name on your rap sheet. Obviously your assistant was as impressed with this arrangement as he was with everything else – but he was on side with you, and he understood it. He could make sure there were no screw ups. Joel also had a build like Ty did, so he wasn’t about to be taken out, or by surprise, by him. You all had communication links to each other so you could keep tabs, but you wanted radio silence unless absolutely necessary. The only good thing about this was that you didn’t really have to worry about how messy you were, Nilo didn’t have a preference for making someone disappear, he just wanted the man killed. As predicted the four of you swept the first few floors silently, splitting the building nearly in half you came to the point where you’d be leaving Joel behind, turning to him you opted to continue your language game: “You know where you’re going?” “I know what I’m looking for.” “Be careful. I don’t trust them.” “The feeling is mutual.” “Yell if you need anything.” He shot Elias a look before turning to you, “I’d say the same, but I think you can handle yourself!” You chuckled, “Thanks, Joel. Until later.” And, indicated for Elias to follow you, ascended the stairs.

  ***

Everything looked very different up here, but was equally as quiet. There’d be security every so often, you were sure of that, as there had been downstairs. Perhaps more, considering your target was their boss, but nothing you didn’t think yourself capable of handling. “So, I don’t get it, is this a drugs complex, or a house!?” You turned to Elias as he stared around the walls: very domestic from the bland grey concrete you’d seen downstairs. “Both.” It wasn’t a guess; you’d seen the schematic. “A safe house?” “Round about, we’re heading for a panic room.” “You have that map stored in your head?” You kept the pistol steady as you rounded the corner, it was clear and you beckoned him on, “Is that impressive?” “Vaguely.” You chuckled, “I’ll take it.” You suddenly pulled back, slamming Elias against the wall as a bullet streaked passed you, “Shit!” You weren’t worried about that, immediate with your retaliation fire. You were trained for this, it was instinct. There was more than one of them and you had to bring them down quick less they raise the alarm, you had no time to think about cover: about the only thing Elias did think of. “They’ll have heard bullets, I gotta go.” You turned back to him, “Your choice, go back to them or try to keep up!” Trying to keep up was much easier said than done, and you had sprinted out of sight by the time Elias had run around the next corner. “Ah, shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Well, I’ve followed her this far!” You must have been quick, because Elias made it another couple of floors up before he found any signs that you might have had difficulty, what worried him was that it was your mentors’ gun that was lying on the ground – so out of the way it’d probably been kicked or thrown there. Carelessly; you hadn’t just decided to drop it. You certainly would have retrieved it.  Whoever your mentor had been, however you tried to hide it, Elias knew he’d meant a lot to you. Picking it up, the still loaded chamber and half empty magazine told a worse story to him. What the hell had happened to you?! Surely they hadn’t overpowered you? Not you! *** Elias almost started to believe it as he continued walking, as suddenly there wasn’t a body, or blood or an empty casing anywhere in sight. Everything was still quiet. Not a sound, not even on the radio. He arrived on the next floor, and again everything was clear. It occurred to him to call the other two for help very nearly a little too late, as, more concerned with finding out where you were, Elias rounded the next corner without his pistol up. In fact, without a pistol at all, and he was faced with yours. “You’re lucky that I check what I’m shooting at before I pull a trigger, Elias! Geez!” You flicked the safety on. “ME!? You just gave me a heart attack! Where the hell did you go!?” You shuffled on the spot with a little shrug, “Look, just, don’t go upstairs into the office, okay?” “Office…? What? I thought you said he had a panic room.” “He absolutely had a panic room – he wasn’t in it. It was not the cleanest kill I’ve ever made and…” You paused staring up at the ceiling, “At least it’s done.” He followed your eyeline and grimaced, leaking through the ceiling already was a patch of blood, “That’s a lot of bodies or it’s a terribly built house-!” “Bit of both…” You looked to him, “Hardly matters right now, don’t you think?” “Who the hell are you, Y/N?” Your head tipped, regarding him seriously in the eschewing silence to his question. “You really want to know that?” He nodded firmly, “Yes.” Elias wasn’t sure he liked the smile you gave back, the way it made the heart leap in his chest, and a shudder run up his spine. You grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall this time not to protect him – far from it. Your lips on his were rough, this wasn’t love…  you weren’t even sure you could call it chemistry. But it was something. Elias pulled your body into his, your fingers running into his hair, he groaned into the kiss as you raked your nails across his scalp. But you continued to push his body as you made him breathless. Oh… shit. Elias could barely think properly as he ran his hands under your coat and over your ass, pulling your shirt with him, the feel of your supple skin under his calloused hands drove him crazy. Until he found himself backed up against a door, breaking the kiss in confusion. “Maybe you should try it.” You encouraged, voice at a whisper as you brought his lips back to yours, Elias wasn’t going to say no, and it swung open behind his push. This time when he broke the kiss it was only to smirk. “Oh? A bedroom?” “Uh huh.” He turned back to you, eyes raking your body as they had done before, but now significantly more hungry. You pushed a finger to his lips before he started getting clever: “…Stop talking… stop thinking… don’t make me wait any longer.” Replacing your finger with your lips, Elias pulled back to nod, “Okay.” He pulled you into his arms, relieving you of your coat immediately. It was almost like no time had passed at all, he tasted the same as you remembered, whisky and cigarette smoke. Elias pulled you closer, certainly not eager to break the kiss or let you go for even a moment. You pulled off his leather jacket, throwing it with your own; you revelled in the way that you were both so different, but you wanted the same thing so badly. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He gave you a small smirk. You let the look on your face answer for you, to which Elias grinned, hands under your shirt he pulled it over your head, allowing you to relieve him of his own. His fingers ghosted over your skin, and he paused momentarily: every so often there was a litter of scars. You weren’t about to count the number of times you’d been in real trouble, but you always got out of it. You simply chuckled, “Yeah, no dancing on a stage in just my bra and panties for me.” “That’s not why I’m here.” You’d agree with that, kissing him gently again, your fingers grazed over his chest and Elias tensed; “What? Scared?” You smirked against his lips. “A little. It’s not like I don’t know what you’re capable of.” “I don’t sleep with my targets.” You kissed him again, winking as you undid his belt, dragging him back to your lips with his belt loops; this time he bit your lip gently, making you groan against his kiss. Elias picked you up, undoing your pants and bra clasp, pushing you down onto the bed he nipped down your jawline and neck. You pulled him back, reciprocating Elias’ trail of kisses, whispering prayers into his skin in nearly every language you knew. He slid your pants down your legs with a sigh, and he shook under your touch. You were too much for him already, but you weren’t about to show Elias mercy. You smirked wickedly, claiming his lips with your own once more. This man was about to be all yours… *** All of you were clearly sworn to silence. Elias was the more dazed of the three of you (Ty seemed none the wiser), and Joel kept throwing you dirty and disgusted looks. You couldn’t care less. You’d done your job, you were entitled to a little fun every once in a while, your assistant didn’t have to be a killjoy. Overall though, you were disappointed in yourself, somewhere along the way – probably when you were dealing with everyone who was actually occupying the panic room – you’d lost your most important possession. You weren’t about to admit that out loud, but you hadn’t been able to find it as you had made your way back downstairs. You vowed you’d get it back, but you’d rather go back with Joel and do a real sweep without the other two around. There was too much going on here – and it was obvious Joel wanted out and away from here as soon as possible. That was fine with you. You dropped Elias and Ty back at the bar, and you were wondering if this time it might really be it. Were you both satisfied now? It scared you that you might not be sure of the answer to that. Joel went to deliver the news and package, and Ty wasn’t one to kick around, leaving you and Elias outside. “Well, now you can get back to that girlfriend of yours.” “Is that really any way to say goodbye?” “I don’t want to get emotionally involved here.” Though your eyes strayed from his face a little too much for Elias to want to believe that. “Does that make everything easier for you?” “Yeah.” You folded your arms, no point in skirting around that. Elias for once looked like he was seeing right through you, “Except there’s one thing that makes you show your cards.” “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him, how dare he stand here acting like he had you all figured out. Elias rummaged in his jacket, and you nearly gasped as he presented you with your mentor’s pistol. “He must have been one hell of a guy.” “He… was.” You took it from him delicately, “You found it.” “It’s important. Right?” “…Thank you.” And there was emotion behind that, you both knew it. “You’re welcome.” Although his hand took yours, thumb running over that tattoo on your wrist, and down to your fingers, Elias was so close to entwining them. He thought better of it, instead twisting the ring so that ‘Veritas’ very clearly faced him – you just about admit to yourself you were disappointed. “My offer is still on the table, you know?” You gave a small smile, “If you ever want to be useful, you have my number.” He chuckled, “Well. I’ll… think on it.” Then added, with a smile, “That’s the truth.” “Don’t think.” You took a step back as Joel called you, walking briskly back to the car. Yes, he certainly wanted out. “I told you, the only thing worth it, is the doing!” ** Amazingly Joel did not go ballistic at you – you thought he was just glad to be out. On top of that he knew you’d seen the looks he was shooting you, and you supposed he thought that said it all. To be honest it probably did, and you would both vow silently to never talk about this again. You pulled your pistol apart to check it, as you always did and, satisfied, you pulled your mentor’s apart too. Pausing as you checked the magazine, sitting in the top was a rolled-up piece of paper. You smiled to yourself, only guessing what it said. You pieced the pistol back together and unravelled it. He’d watched you do this on the journey, so Elias could be certain that you’d check your gun pretty soon after he’d returned it. Spera - Trust. ‘Someone is a show off’. You almost laughed as you read the number before rolling it up again and pocketing it. Truth and Trust seemed almost ironic. And yet also seemed to be completely fitting. You made sure to be safely home, to ensure that Joel wasn’t physically ill. And also to wait a few days, to keep Elias hanging. Which he was, because that man wasn’t like you. You could wait on him to call like it was no big deal – but he would be checking that mobile of his every ten minutes at the very least. Predictably he picked up on the second ring: “Y/N?” “Hey, babe.” You would be directly flirty, you’d tell Elias what he wanted to hear, “I see my number must be saved in that phone of yours, you just never pressed the call button. See, even a busy girl like me can action something.” “I… I’m just glad you did.” You left a significant pause, enough to make him uncomfortable, “Are you asking me to trust you?” “The truth is important to you, isn’t it? Don’t you trust me?” Your voice became quiet, all too aware of the vulnerability of admittance: “I do. It scares me that I do.” You sighed, “But that hardly matters. I told you I like action. So, if I don’t want you to call me unless it’s for you to be useful, I figured that my calling you was only ever about offering you the opportunity to be so…” “How?” Elias’ voice was eager, you could almost see his nails digging into the bar, the tension running through him, a slight dark tint to those blue eyes of his. “You ever been to Boston?” “…No?” “Well, if you get yourself on a flight over… I can give you an address.” “You live in Boston?” “You asked me to trust you.” “I did.” There was relief and understanding in that sentence. “When?” “Whenever you want, babe. I’ll let you know if I get called anywhere though, wouldn’t want you to waste a trip.” “Considerate of you.” “Well, like for like.” You smiled, “Just one more small favour, Elias. An… assurance. Perhaps an insurance policy. Before you do come all the way out to me.” “What’s that?” Really what he was saying was anything. I’ll do anything. “I told you that my mentor died because he fell in love with a target…” “You did.” Then he quickly added, “I won’t… tell anyone!” You shook your head, Elias was jumping ahead of himself. As were you. But you weren’t sure where this was going, and yet you had to be certain. It wasn’t that you thought you were about to fall in love. You might, it wasn’t beyond you. It was that if you were asked to kill him… you weren’t your mentor. You weren’t scared that you’d be unable to pull the trigger, you were scared of the knowledge that you could. “Yes, well. Just don’t do anything to piss anyone off, okay?”

---

Thank you for reading! 😁💙

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Waiting by an Open Door | Carlton Drake x Reader

Trope Prompt: Fairy Tale

Words: 2053

Fandom: Venom

Summary: You search for your friend and fellow reporter, Eddie Brock, only to find a mysterious mansion where the CEO and founder of the missing LIFE Foundation had been cursed with a creature that will consume him entirely if he can’t find the cure. Beauty and the Beast AU

-

You rolled up to the imposing cliffside and stopped at the deadend in front of a wide clearing that overlooked the ocean. You double checked Eddie’s GPS signal that confirmed that it was indeed coming from this location. The weather had been fair that day and it only seemed to grow cloudier the closer you went to the cliff. You slowly climbed out of your car, spinning around to take in your surroundings, hoping to see Eddie pop out with a sheepish grin, explaining that he had been chasing a lead but came out empty and was left without a ride back.

It was quiet on the cliffside. A gentle breeze brush through your hair, the smell of salt and earth and the impending rain filling your nostrils. You zipped up your jacket and trudged upwards.

“Eddie?” you called out.

Nothing.

You decide to walk closer to the edge of the cliff, taking in the view before you. Ever since you moved to the city for work, you never had the chance to explore and appreciate San Francisco. It was a shame, really. Growing up, counting down the years until you can branch off on your own and travel and do all the things that you want once you’ve got the means to do it, far from your small hometown where you never fit in, only to realize that it wasn’t that simple.

You wanted to be a writer, to create stories that would teleport your readers into another world as your favorite books had done to you. Instead, you became a journalist, exposing corruption and lies that had been buried, and reporting only the truth. That’s where you met Eddie Brock.

The two of you were wary of the other until you were partnered up to cover a story. You worked so well together, that you decided to help with the Eddie Brock Show. You couldn’t be in front of the camera, though. You didn’t have the right charisma for it like Eddie had. It was fine though. As long you had credit for it and that it made a difference.

Which lead to the current situation. Eddie heard of the unethical experiments going down at the LIFE Foundation that was rumored to still be on the very location you were standing on, only hidden. It had been days since he left to check it out without you. The two of you had an agreement to notify the other when any information was found during field research and you have yet to hear from him.

What happened to the LIFE Foundation was a mystery. It used to be this impressive, futuristic, modern facility built into the cliffside with an extension that reached the ocean. Carlton Drake, the CEO and founder of LIFE was a rags to riches story that newspapers and magazines like to eat up, especially with the breakthroughs he’s had.

A blackout occurred one night. Residents flooded emergency call centers and electric companies scrambled to find the source of the problem, but came out empty. And then, the power came back on. No one could find an explanation for it, maybe some old power lines that needed fixing, but was was even curiouser was the fact that the entire LIFE Foundation facility had vanished.

You were nearing the edge of the cliff, continuously trying to call Eddie, when something shot up from the ground. You stumbled back, lowering your phone slowly as you watch the dark gooey substance morph into a large gate that swung open, almost as if inviting you in. It was never a good sign of sanity to see dark goo moving around and forming objects in thin air, let alone seeing a wide rundown mansion with dark vines crawling along the walls, fog and dirt covering the windows, with a healthy and thriving colorful garden in contrast. What the hell is this?

You looked back at your car, then down at your phone where the signal was blinking straight ahead from your current location. You needed to find Eddie.

So, you did as anyone crazy enough to be best friends with Eddie Brock and stepped through the gate.

The gate slammed shut behind you and disappeared, replaced by a thick wall of greenery. The only way was forward, you guessed.

As you neared the building, you realized how alive those dark vines were, squirming and crawling and seemingly watching your movements. You went to open the front door when the vines quickly covered it and opened the door for you.

What should you do? This shouldn’t be possible in the first place, but the shock was keeping the panic at bay for now. Should you try calling Eddie again? You doubt he would answer. If he hadn’t done so during those million times you’ve called and texted him, it was rather unlikely he would right now.

The slam of the heavy front door echoed through the massive space inside. You clutched your phone close to you and crept forward, taking in the interior of the mansion. You heard whispering behind you, making your blood ran cold, convinced that you were caught. You spun around, but saw no one. Your heart picked up, hearing whispers on the other side of the room, then back at where you first heard them.

Were you hallucinating? Were there mercury fumes that LIFE had managed to obtain and experiment on?

“How the hell did she get in here?” a gruffy man’s voice whispered. You spun around again, trying to pinpoint the voice. All you could see was furniture and scattered objects around the room.

“Maybe it was one of the symbiotes,” a soft woman’s voice said.

“She’s here for that damn reporter,” the man growled.

Your ears perked up. “Eddie? Is Eddie here? Please, just tell me where he is and we’ll leave,” you begged, wanting to be out of this strange dream as soon as you could.

“No,” another man’s voice said from the top of the stairwell.

You whipped around to face the stairs, seeing a familiar man half concealed by shadows looking down at you with dark brown eyes. He wore a black suit with a high collar jacket underneath, his appearance clean and presentable in contrast to the mansion.

“You cannot have Eddie Brock,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” you challenged, stepping forward.

He fidgeted in his spot, the thought of retreating completely into the shadows seemed tempting for him. “Eddie Brock not only trespassed, but he also attempted to steal from me!” he said, his voice echoing down the stairs.

You squint your eyes, your feet carrying you towards the staircase. The man immediately took a step back. “You’re Carlton Drake, aren’t you?” you said, “What the hell is going on here? What is all of this?”

He remained silent.

“Look, just let me see Eddie and we can talk this through. He’s been missing for days,” you tried to reason with him.

The whispering started again, though it was sort of comforting to know that he could hear them, too, as his body language responded to their words.

“Just let her, Doctor Drake,” the woman’s voice said.

“Enough, Skirth,” the man, confirmed to be Carlton Drake, hissed under his breath.

“We can’t stay like this!” she hissed back.

Drake glared at the source of the voice, then sighed.  He inhaled sharply, then exhaled through his mouth slowly. “Follow me,” he muttered, finally walking into the light to reveal the surprisingly handsome CEO.

He lead you around the mansion towards another set of stairs that led downwards to a large basement. You slowly followed in after him, internally cursing yourself for not bringing any form of self-defense besides the lessons you’ve been having. You fell into the habit of looking behind you, almost hoping to see another person in order to put a body with the voice.

Drake turned on the lights, revealing a long corridor that led into a wide room filled with glass paneled chambers. You gasped when you realized there were people in them, many curled up in the corner of their chambers whimpering. Their eyes widened as they spot you, crawling over to the panel and banging their palms to catch your attention.

“Silence!” Drake ordered, breathing heavily as he tried to control his anger.

“(Y/n)!” Eddie shouted from the last chamber.

You ran passed Drake towards your friend, slamming your hands on the panel, looking for a way to get him out, “Oh, god, Eddie! What are they doing here? What is going on?” you demanded.

“(Y/n/n), you have to get away from him!” Eddie said, “He’s got a freaky parasite up his ass! And he’s been trying to get one in all of us as well!”

“Enough from you, Eddie Brock!” Drake snapped, stalking over.

Eddie pressed himself against the glass and laughed. “Or what? Gonna force that freaky parasite in me? Your subjects are dying! You think it’ll work just like that? You think the world won’t get suspicious about this company?”

“Eddie, stop! Doctor Drake, release him and everyone else,” you said, stepping in between them.

“A company founded on a mountain of bodies!” Eddie shouted, provoking him.

“Eddie!”

Drake growled, clutching his head as dark veins, reminiscent to the vines covering the mansion, crawled over his skin until it swallowed him whole. A slimy grotesque creature took over, his mouth opened in a cruel grin.

“I should have eaten you when you walked in,” the creature growled.

“You can have a go.”

“Please you two, stop it! Just released Eddie and everyone here, and I promise that the information won’t get leaked out,” you said, holding your ground, though on the inside, while you were scared for your life, the need to protect the others overrode that.

“A trade, then,” the creature said, his long tongue drooling out of his mouth, “You for the others.”

“What? No!” Eddie protested, banging on the panel.

“And what will I have to do?” you asked, ignoring Eddie.

The creature groaned, retreating back into Drake’s body. He shook, staggering backwards as he clutched his head, He took a moment to collect himself again, but when he raised his head, half of his face were covered by the dark veins like a grotesque lace mask.

“Help me get rid of this,” he said, a shaky hand hovering over the veiny half of his face, “and I will release you, too. I am bound to honor my words. I promise I will release them. Deal?”

You looked back at Eddie who pleaded with you not to do it, but you saw the others, weakened, disheartened, and possibly malnourished. No one deserves this type of treatment.

“Deal,” you said, sticking a hand out to him.

He grabbed it firmly and shook. The walls began to melt into piles of dark goo, giving the imprisoned a means to escape. They all laughed and cried, seeing the outside after who knows how long. They ran out with their arms wide, feeling the warm sun against their skin and the breeze caressing them.

Eddie looked over at the others and the car, then back at you. He didn’t want to leave you. He knew that he shouldn’t have gone alone, but his resource was sketchy and there was no proof that the LIFE Foundation was still there. Whatever thing is keeping the place together allowed only certain people to go through.

In all honesty, Carlton Drake hadn’t done anything to him. Yet. Maybe he would have if you hadn’t gone looking for him. He only knew about the experiments because of the other subjects trapped along with him, a pile of goo next to the bodies that didn’t survive the experiment. Even then, he couldn’t quite figure out what he was planning on doing.

“I can’t leave,” Eddie said, shaking his head.

You gave him a grim smile, tossing your keys to him. “Annie misses you,” was all you said before the walls reformed again.

Panic was starting to set in, you could feel it. Your heart beating against your ribcage and the tips of your fingers tingling while you began to feel lightheaded. Your body swayed until your legs gave out. Drake quickly caught you, carrying you up three flights of stairs to the guest room.

[falseroar]

Acting Lessons

((Another short story in the same universe as Can You Wake Up? in which Yandereplier comes to Y/N for some acting advice and the other egos get involved. A silly story that’s on the longer side than my other shorts, it should not be taken seriously at all. Does reference Code: Pineapple briefly for a joke.))

It was a quiet afternoon in the Iplier house, which is to say there currently wasn’t anything on fire and the constant mayhem and destruction was at a minimum, or at least in another room where you couldn’t hear as you sat on a couch in the living room, reading.

That is, until you heard a throat clearing and looked up to see Yan standing in front of you, dressed in their usual schoolgirl outfit and with what could have passed for a friendly smile on their face. At least, you hoped it was friendly as you said, “Oh, hey Yan. Did you need something?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Yandereplier said in a cheery voice. “I could really use a partner for some script reading.”

“A script?” you asked, putting your book aside to get a better look at the badly stapled packets of papers in question, which from here looked to be covered in several scribbles and various hearts. “Are you working on a new skit?”

“Uh, not exactly…” Yan dragged their foot back and forth across the carpet before looking up at you, the picture of embarrassment as they admitted, “It’s for a school play.”

“That’s cool,” you said, thinking it would be good for Yan to have some kind of hobby that didn’t involve their Senpai or pointy objects. “What’s the play?”

“Cinderella!”

Well, so much for that idea.

Yan must have seen your disappointment, because suddenly they lunged forward and grabbed both of your hands in their own and pulled them to their chest as they said, “Please, Y/N! Rumor is, my Senpai is trying out for the role of the prince! Prince Charming, Y/N! I need to get the part of Cinderella! And to do that, I need to practice with someone before auditions, and it would really help if I could maybe get some advice too?”

“Uh, I’m not sure I’m the best person…” you said, trying and failing to get your hands back. Yan’s grip was strong. “I mean, Mark is an actor, he’s been in plenty of plays.”

“He’s also in Texas for, like, weeks!” Yan said, pouting. “Plus, he gets a little intense when it comes to this kind of thing.”

“Oh, really?” you said. You were starting to lose the feeling in your fingers.

From the corner of the room, another voice added, “And the last thing we want is to feed into Mark’s already inflated ego.”

You shot a glance at Dark, but he hadn’t looked up from his own book, not even as he added in an undertone, “Not like we don’t have enough of them running around as it is.”

You looked around the room and noted that there were other egos here, including the Host, Bim Trimmer, Google, and Silver Shepherd. “What about one of the other egos? They’re all in front of the camera way more than I am, they have to know something about acting.”

“Debatable,” Dark muttered under his breath.

“And we try not to act against each other when it comes to the romance stuff,” Bim chimed in as he looked up from his phone. “Last thing we want is for Kinkiplier to get involved, am I right?”

Silver and Yan nodded in agreement while you tried not to roll your eyes.

“Kinkiplier, right.”

“Says Y/N, expressing doubt in the existence of the ego despite the reassurances from Mark and his other egos that Kinkiplier does in fact exist,” the Host said.

“An ego that I’ve never actually met before, but who everyone blames when ever something even slightly embarrassing happens,” you added.

“Look, the man’s kinks may happen to include dressing up like the rest of us to do his…things,” Silver said. He threw up his massive gloved hands and said, “No shame, of course, but things get weird when he’s involved. We all know his handiwork when we see it…Eventually.”

“If you knew some of the situations he’s put us in…” Bim said and shuddered. “Point is, we’re not about to risk getting him involved for some school play.”

“Please, you’re my only choice here,” Yan said, not doing a lot to build up your self-esteem. They knelt down in front of you and, turning on the puppy dog eyes as much as they could, asked, “Will you be my Prince, Y/N?”

“Will you let go of my hands?”

“It’s a deal!” Yan shouted, jumping up to their feet with a sprightly bounce. They let go of your hands only to immediately pull you into the middle of the room and hand you one of the marked-up scripts.

“Wait, we’re doing this here?” you asked, very aware of the others in the room.

“Sure, why not?” Yan asked. “If these guys want to throw in suggestions, that only helps me. And it’s not like anyone’s recording this, right?”

Bim immediately sighed and put his phone away while Google raised his hand to make a comment and thought better of it.

“Fine,” you said, already knowing you were going to regret this. “So, do we just start at the beginning, or…?”

“No, no, we’re going to skip straight to the good stuff,” Yan said, turning your pages for you until they found the right scene almost a third of the way into the story.

“’The scene is a grand ballroom’,” you read aloud, “’The reluctant Prince paces the floor, avoiding the other suitors who swarm around him until he makes eye contact with Cinderella, who—‘”

“Will be me,” Yan said with confidence as they took a few steps away and waved the script at you. “Basically, you spot me walking in, come swooping across the room, knocking everyone out of the way just for a chance to dance with me.”

They waited, and then gestured, and you finally picked up on the hint and scanned the script for your line as you walked toward Yan, your eyes on the page.

“What is this? Has a star fallen from the heavens to grace this place?” you read aloud. You paused at the stage direction and gave a belated bow. “Oh star, my starlight! Please, what may I call you?”

“My name is unimportant,” Yan said and you looked up to see that they weren’t reading from the page like you. They had the words memorized, apparently, but… “Forgive me, my Prince, I only came here to enjoy the dance with the rest of the kingdom. I did not wish to disturb you.”

“I-if that is your wish, then of course, Starlight. All are welcome here tonight, you most of all,” you read.

You tried to ignore Silver Shepherd as he leaned over to Bim and said, “This Prince likes to lay it on thick, doesn’t he?”

You continued, “But may I be so selfish as to ask for a dance in exchange?”

“Oh, there it is,” Bim muttered. “Always a catch.”

Yan glanced at the script and said, “Then apparently they dance for a while, music plays, yadda yadda other people who don’t matter, and our next lines are…here.”

They turned your page for you before saying, “My Prince, the hour. I must leave.”

You frowned but answered, “Please, Starlight, stay just a little longer. I cannot bear to see you leave, not yet.”

“But it is almost midnight.”

“What do hours matter? This time is too short, but it’s enough to know I need so much more. I can see in your eyes that you feel the same, so why do you turn and leave?”

“I am sorry, my Prince, but I must leave.”

“Have I imagined it? Forgive me if I have trespassed, but I thought…I thought I saw something more. But how can a star feel anything for a mortal such as I?”

“My Prince, do you not see the answer in my eyes?” Yan said, and you looked up to see their eyes were glassy, all of their concentration on reciting the lines. “I love you. I want nothing more than to—But I must leave.”

Yan blinked and glanced at the script again. “And that’s where Cinderella runs away, there’s a big chase scene, lose the shoe and the magic wears off as the clock strikes midnight, end scene. Did I get all of my lines right?”

“Um, yeah, you remembered them all…” you said uneasily and glanced toward the others for help.

The Host had one hand over his mouth, either to block the shape of his muttered narration or to keep from laughing, you weren’t sure, and Dark was pinching the bridge of his nose while still determinedly staring at the book held in one hand.

It was up to Bim then to speak up and say, “Yan, hon, you gotta put some feeling in your words!”

“What do you mean?” Yan asked.

“I mean, when you say ‘I love you’ the same way you say ‘There’s gum on my shoe,’ there’s a bit of a problem,” Bim answered. He glanced around the room and added, “It’s not just me, right?”

You and Silver nodded, and Google said, “Even I am capable of expressing more emotion than that.”

Silver thought about correcting the android and then shrugged. “Well, I guess homicidal rage is an emotion, so you’re not wrong.”

“So, what do I do?” Yan asked.

“Relax,” Bim said, jumping up to stand beside Yan. “You’ve got all the words figured out, now you just need to put some ‘oomph’ behind them. Do you know what I mean?”

Yan thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then run it again from the top!”

You cleared your throat and asked again, “Please, what may I call you?”

Yan flashed a giant grin and said in an over the top cheery voice, “My name is unimportant! Forgive me, my Prince, I only came here to enjoy the dance with the rest of the kingdom! I did not wish to disturb you!”

“Uh, better?” you said. “But I’m not sure that’s the right emotion for this scene.”

“What, really?” Yan asked, looking at their script again. “But this is supposed to be a happy scene, right? All of the dancing and love and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but you sounded more like it was all just kind of a joke, like more ha-ha happy than love scene happy,” you said. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked to Bim again, who nodded in encouragement. “I mean, try to imagine you’re in this scene, that you’re Cinderella. How would you feel?”

Yan looked at you blankly and you tried again.

“Maybe try imagining that the Prince is your Senpai when you’re talking to him? How would you say these things to him?”

Yan nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah, I think I can do that. Pretend you’re my Senpai.”

They cleared their throat and said, “F-forgive me, my Prince, I only came here to…to enjoy the dance with the rest of the kingdom. I did not wish to disturb you.”

You relaxed as Yan shyly looked up at you before staring back down at the floor again, hands tight behind their back and their shoulders tucked in from embarrassment. This was a lot better, and you felt more confident yourself as you read again, “If that is your wish, then of course, Starlight. All are welcome here tonight, you most of all. But may I be so selfish as to ask for a dance in exchange?”

Too late, you saw the other egos shaking their heads, and even Dark had stopped pretending to read and was halfway out of his chair before Yan cried out, “Oh, Senpai! I thought you would never ask!”

With a sudden change of energy, Yan wrapped their arms around you, pulling you in close as they said, “Just you and me, for hours and hours and hours. What could be better?”

“Uh, then midnight comes,” you wheezed, trying to break free from Yan’s clinging grip as you added, “And Cinderella has to let go.”

“Why would I ever let go of my Senpai?” Yan purred. “And I know my Senpai would never let go of me! I love you so much I could just cut you open and crawl inside to be closer to you!”

Yan blinked in surprise when they found their feet leaving the ground as Dark shook them by the back of their white shirt, adding “Drop it,” in the same voice of a pet owner trying to convince their cat to drop a mouse.

Yan let go and you staggered back, coughing a little.

“Oh,” they said. “I, uh, went a little overboard pretending, huh?”

Dark just dropped them and went back to his seat, where he held his book up in front of his face in an apparent effort to block out the rest of the room.

“Y-yeah,” you said as Silver offered his arm for you to lean on until you regained your breath. “You could say that.”

Bim placed a hand on Yan’s shoulder and said, “Maybe being in the play isn’t the best thing for you, Yan. I mean, if you get a little too excited when it’s just Y/N, what are you going to do if it really is your Senpai playing the prince?”

You tried not to feel insulted by that “just Y/N” when you saw Yan’s lips start to tremble and their eyes tear up. “Hey, it’s okay, Yan. Did you even really want to be in this play, or were you just doing it because he might be in it?”

“Well of course I only wanted to do it because of him!” Yan bawled. “I can’t just let some, some hussy be Cinderella and have him confess his love to them on stage, in front of everyone!”

You and Bim exchanged looks and he said, “It’s not really confessing though, is it?”

“It’s just a play, Yan,” you added. “None of it’s real.”

Yan shook their head and said, “No, you can’t just say you love someone and it mean nothing!”

“What? Of course you can say the words and it mean nothing, watch,” Bim said. He turned to you and placed both hands on your shoulders as he spoke. “Y/N, you would not last two rounds on one of my shows. Like seriously, blood and viscera everywhere, not pretty. You’re never giving me the studio time I clearly deserve, and you’re certainly not as handsome or as talented as my dear Matthias, but I want you to know…I love you.”

Bim smiled and said to Yan, “See? Absolutely zero attraction, isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“I kind of just want to slap you now.”

“Exactly!” Bim said, oblivious as he added, “They’re just words, Yan. Anyone can say them.”

“But I have to be Cinderella so he’ll fall in love with me like he’s supposed to!” Yan shuddered and added, “And I don’t know what I’ll do if someone else gets the part…”

There were several nervous faces around the room at that, but before anyone could answer, Yan suggested, “Maybe, maybe if I see how someone else plays the part, I can figure out how to do it. Or how to be okay with it if it’s not me. Please?”

You sighed and asked, “Do you really think it’s going to help? Maybe you—”

“Thank you, Y/N!”

You stepped back quickly before Yan could hug you again and they spun to face the other egos. “So, which of you wants to play Cinderella?”

At this point you realized that your audience had grown without you realizing it. Possibly attracted by the noise, there were now more egos than you remembered in the room. A second Google had taken up position in the opposite corner, watching it all with an impassiveness that suggested his internal drive was focused on something else, and your couch had been taken over by three egos jockeying for space so they could watch.

One of the new arrivals, who insisted on wearing his cowboy hat and reflective sunglasses even indoors, shrugged and said, “Well, I am quite the actor, if I do say so myself.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who would,” Silver scoffed.

Ed bristled and said, “I’ll have you know a fine salesman has to do quite a bit of acting! Why, I pulled out the ol’ charm and the right story and I managed to sell my son to a couple with 15 boys of their own already. Best deal I ever made, I’ll tell you what.”

“Uh...” you looked around to see if anyone else heard that, but aside from the Host, who gave a noncommittal shrug, and Dark, whose brow was creased and his eyes darting back and forth as if doing his own mental calculus, no one else commented. Even the third ego on the couch appeared to be too nervous to notice the connection as he looked from one person to the next and judged the distance between himself and the nearest exit.

“Yeah, I’m not casting you,” Yan said, waving for the salesman to sit back down. “Anyone else?”

Another ego wearing a crown and a long fur cape poked his head up over the couch and raised his hand.

“I, I’m King of the Squirrels,” he said. After checking around to make sure everyone was still aware of that fact, he scurried into the middle of the room. “And you said Y/N is a prince? Does that mean we’re related?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you said.

On the couch, Dr. Iplier gave a noncommittal sound and said, “Well, if we’re going based on European royal tradition, more of them were related than not, so…”

“Besides, I’m not a real prince. It’s just pretend, right Yan?”

“It’s not pretend that Senpai is my prince,” Yan said dreamily.

The King of the Squirrels took your hands as he said, “Y/N can be my prince! Or my princess! Or both, if they want! Doesn’t matter if it’s pretend or not!”

“That’s sweet King,” you said, smiling. “I’m just trying to help Yan with their play. Do you know the story of Cinderella?”

“Um…” The King hesitated and then said, “I’m okay with just watching.”

Dark lowered his book and frowned at the ego, but his thoughts were interrupted when he heard a soft swear come from the Host’s direction. He glanced over at the ego, who had a hand to his head as though fighting off a headache or possibly facepalming.

“Just remember that it’s all pretend, we’re acting,” you said, eyes on Yan. If nothing else, you wanted to get this point across to them.

“Say,” Yan said, locking eyes with you but talking to the King, “King, can you act?”

“Can I?” The King thought and then nodded with a grin. “I believe I can.”

“Then can you act like you love Y/N and tell them how you feel?”

Before you could protest, the King nodded and pulled you into a hug, the scent of almond butter almost overpowering as he said, “I love you, Y/N! You’ll always be a prince to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile and return the hug with a muffled, “Love you too, King.”

The ego stepped back and looked at Yan expectantly. “How’d I do?”

“Great,” Yan said. “Now that we’re done acting, do you love Y/N?”

“Of course!”

Yan looked at you and gestured toward the King as though that proved their point.

“That doesn’t count,” you said.

Yan just shrugged and said, “If you say so. What about you, Dr. Iplier?”

The doctor shrugged and said, “Well, I have been known to act here or there. Let me give it a shot.”

“Can I be Cinderella this time?” you asked. “I’m getting kind of tired of saying the same lines over and over again.”

“What? No, you’re getting better with your lines every time,” Yan said, while Bim and Silver made iffy noises at that. “It would be weird to change it now.”

“But he just talks so much,” you muttered, eyeing Cinderella’s much shorter lines.

Yan sat down on the couch next to the other new ego who was twisting his handkerchief and trying not to take up too much space, while being careful to keep some distance between them and Ed. Nearby Bim and Silver moved over to make way for the King as he plopped down between them and immediately started whispering excitedly. Once they were ready, Yan said, “Okay, Dr. Cinderella has just walked into the ballroom and our Prince Y/N locks eyes with them.”

“What is this?” you read from the script, sure that at this rate you were going to know the prince’s lines by heart.

Before you could continue, Dr. Iplier swept forward and said, “I’m sorry, my Prince, but you’re dying.”

“Wait, what?”

You heard a few murmurs of interest around the room.

“You’re suffering from a deadly brain tumor that has clearly affected your ability to recognize faces. If you look around the room right now, you’ll see that everyone looks the same to you.” Dr. Iplier said, making you feel more than a little uncomfortable by how accurate that statement was in this particular room. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and continued, “It’s the most logical explanation for how you can only recognize the love of your life by their footwear.”

“Oh, in our version of the play the ball’s a masquerade deal,” Yan answered cheerfully. “Everyone’s wearing masks so no one knows who anyone is. Isn’t that romantic?”

There was more than one sharp inhale at the word “masks” and general disagreement at that idea, but Google was the first to speak up. “Based on my preliminary research, I see nothing ‘romantic’ about the concept of being unable to identify possible partners.”

“Research?” you asked.

“Markiplier has commented several times in the past that he wishes to put on a masquerade ball involving his fans,” Google answered. “I have merely looked into the feasibility and logistics of such a plan.”

“He’s not still thinking about doing it, is he?” you asked, privately thinking that you had dealt with enough “masks” to last a lifetime already.

Google started to answer, but Yan made a noise and pointed at the script with a “keep going” expression.

You hesitated, looked at the script, and faced Dr. Iplier as you said, “This is terrible news. Please, my starlight, if I am dying will you at least grant me your time before the night is over?”

Dr. Iplier smiled and nodded approvingly before dropping into his serious doctor expression to say, “I’m sorry, my Prince, but we only have until midnight.”

You faked a shocked gasp. “No! That’s far too short a time! Please, can’t you stay longer than that?”

“I can, but I’m not the problem, Your Highness. I’m sorry, but your disease will kill you on the stroke of midnight. Also, your father has already disowned you and named his dog as the next heir to the throne.”

“Well, at least the kingdom will be in good paws.”

“No,” Yan groaned as you and Dr. Iplier cracked and started giggling. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go at all! How’s Cinderella supposed to have her nice and happy ending if her prince is dead?!”

“She gets hired to be the royal dog groomer and makes enough of a living wage to move out of her terrible home situation?” you suggested.

“But that’s not romantic,” Yan complained. “Dr. Iplier, if you can’t stick to the script then you’re out.”

The doctor shrugged and flashed you a smile before taking a seat in one of the open chairs.

“Um…you, what’s-your-name, you can be Cinderella,” Yan said, pointing.

Eric Derekson gestured to himself and said, “M-me? I, uh, I don’t know…”

“Come on, you can do it,” Bim said encouragingly, and the other egos chimed in until Eric was standing next to you, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.

“It’s okay, Eric,” you said, smiling. “We’re just reading lines from a script. It’s not a commercial or a sketch or anything like that, no one’s even recording this.”

Google pointedly did not make eye contact with any of his other units, who by this point had all entered the room and taken up stations where they could all get a good angle of the “performances.”

“Y-yeah, I can do this,” Eric said, more to himself than anything as he took several deep breaths. “I can do this.”

He jumped as Yan’s phone dinged and shook his head, muttering, “Oh, this isn’t going to end well…”

The King of the Squirrels murmured something and Bim nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Yan did have a point there. Nothing we’ve seen so far has been very ‘romantic,’ and I don’t think we can just blame Y/N’s acting.”

“Seriously Trimmer, did I do something to you?” You glared at the couch and saw that there was a lot of whispering back and forth going on there and all around the room now as the extra scripts were being passed around. And when had more egos come in? You didn’t remember Bing or Chef Iplier being here before, or the Jims. Was everyone in the house going to be watching this?

“It’s just missing something,” Bim said, ignoring your indignation.

“It could be because none of you are actually doing anything,” Dark said. His eyes flickered up from his book and, seeing that nearly everyone in the room was staring at him, said, “You’re all standing feet apart, just saying the words at each other. I would hardly call that acting or romantic.”

“He does make a good point,” Dr. Iplier admitted. “Isn’t this supposed to be a dance scene?”

Yan started to say something but paused when Google leaned over and spoke quietly to them. A second later, the android straightened up and with more readiness than you expected from him said, “I can provide music.”

“Do we have to?” you asked.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I know, I know you’d rather dance with someone else,” Eric said, “I can just…”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” you said, catching the ego’s elbow before he could walk away.

“Great, then cue the music,” Yan said, pointing at Google. They waited for a slow waltz to start playing before they said, “Once again, the Prince spots Cinderella and invites them to dance. Only be romantic this time!”

You held back a huge sigh if only for Eric’s sake and started over again. “What is this? Has a star fallen from the heavens to grace this place?”

You were getting pretty good at the bow by this point, and at the bottom of it you looked up at Eric and said, “Oh star, my starlight! Please, what may I call you?”

Eric spoke, stumbling over his lines much like you had the first time you read them aloud, but every time he looked up at you for confirmation you gave him an encouraging smile. This was a big deal for him after all, speaking up in front of everyone like this.

“But may I be so selfish as to ask for a dance in exchange?” you said, holding out a hand for Eric.

He hesitated and shook his head, saying softly, “I-I can’t…”

“Just follow my lead, it’ll be okay,” you said quietly, taking his hands and showing him where to place them. “Nothing fancy, we’re just going to sway back and forth. See?”

His hands were shaking, and he kept looking down at his prosthetics until you poked him in the forehead and said, “Look at me, okay?”

He nodded, closed his eyes and whispered under his breath before opening them and focusing on your face. Together, you moved back and forth in time to the music, and gradually he started to relax until—

“Sorry, sorry!” Eric moaned when he saw your wince, but you kept him from pulling away.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I barely even felt it. You wouldn’t believe how many times I stepped on JJ’s toes when he was teaching me.”

Behind his book, Dark scowled and the music skipped a beat when the android winced at a sound too high for the others to hear just yet. Taking that as a cue, Yan spoke up, reading from the script as they said, “The dancing continues until the hour draws near. This is your line, Eric.”

“Be sure to show us how you really feel,” Bim chimed in.

“My, uh, my Prince, the hour.” Eric said, eyes darting toward the others. “I must leave.”

“Please, Starlight, stay just a little longer. I cannot bear to see you leave, not yet.”

“But it is almost midnight!”

“What do hours matter? This time is too short, but it’s enough to know I need so much more. I can see in your eyes that you feel the same, so why do you turn and leave?”

“I am sorry, my Prince,” Eric said, pausing to take a deep breath before he started to pull away. “But I must leave.”

“Have I imagined it?” You reached out to grab his hand. “Forgive me if I have trespassed, but I thought…I thought I saw something more. But how can a star feel anything for a mortal such as I?”

“My Prince, do you not see the answer in my eyes?” Eric read the next line and looked into your eyes. “I—I, uh, I…”

And then Eric broke with a suddenness that startled you and everyone else in the room as he pulled you into a hug and said, “I love you!”

After a second you patted Eric’s shaking shoulders and said, “I love you too, Eric.”

His sobbing only grew louder when you asked if he was okay, and eventually Dr. Iplier managed to talk the sniffling ego into sitting down on the couch where he could talk him down. You couldn’t understand what the ego was saying through the tears, but apparently the doctor could make something out. He nodded a few times and explained to you and the room at large, “Sorry about that, apparently it brought up some bad memories from the last time he said that.”

Eric sobbed again but you saw a thumbs up come from the ego’s curled in frame, and Dr. Iplier translated, “He says he’s going to be fine, just give him some time.”

While that was going on, Yan said, “See, Y/N? What’d I tell you?”

“I feel like that was a bad example,” you said, trying hard to ignore the sniffling coming from the other side of the room. You wanted to comfort Eric, but knew from experience that might just make things worse until he was ready for it. “For the last time, Yan, they’re just words from a script.”

“But it’s not just words!” Yan flipped through the script until they were almost to the end and pointed at the page in question. “See, the next scene between Prince Charming and Cinderella, they kiss! Kiss, Y/N, right in front of the whole kingdom and the whole audience and the whole school!”

“Wait, the Prince and Cinderella only get two scenes together in this whole play?” Bim asked, yanking one of the spare scripts from Silver’s oversized hands to check.

Ed Edgar shook his head and added, “Seems to be a bit too hasty, if you’re asking me.”

“But it’s still just acting,” you pointed out. “You can kiss someone and it not mean anything romantic is going on. I ki—uh, can think of several examples.”

You gave the Host a warning glare when you heard a chuckle come from his direction and could swear you saw him silently whisper the word “pineapple” to himself, but fortunately no one else seemed to notice the slip of the tongue. The other egos were too busy debating the idea between themselves, with some agreeing with you while others such as Silver saying that it would be hard to fake that kind of chemistry.

You sighed and added over the noise, “Besides, if you’re that worried about your Senpai maybe kissing someone else, then why don’t you ask the director of the play if it can just be a stage kiss? There’s plenty of ways to fake a kiss on stage.”

“Tell me about it!” Wilford Warfstache cried out, causing you and several other egos to jump because he definitely hadn’t been standing in the middle of the room two seconds ago. “Why I could tell you a story or two about kissing.”

“Okay, prove it,” Yan said, with a backup murmur from the other egos. They flipped through your version of the script and pointed at the page. “You two do these lines together and do the kiss, and we’ll see. Y/N, you’re still the Prince, Wilford, you’re Cinderella.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” Wilford said with a chuckle.

For the benefit of the others, Yan said, “We all know the story, after the ball and the magic wears off, Cinderella goes back to her tragic life, the Prince searches the whole kingdom for the one person who can wear the glass slipper, a bunch of dramatic nonsense, and then they’re finally together again. Now that he’s sure he’s talking to the right girl, the Prince says…”

“Oh, right. Um…” You glanced at the line Yan had pointed out. “Starlight? Is that really you? Are we finally, finally together again?”

“You bet we are, Princey!” Wilford had both arms around you, and with a wide smile said, “It took you long enough. Now about that kiss…”

You gave a startled laugh when Wilford dipped you down, away from most of the other egos, so low you thought your shoulders might touch the floor before he paused, gave you a wink, and then spun you back up onto your feet.

“How’s that for a not-kiss?” Wilford asked the room at large, over the whistling and clapping.

“Confirmed, there was no kiss,” one of the Googles said, and to your confusion there was a mixed response to that around the room.

“But anything could have happened there,” Yan protested with some nudging from nearby egos before you could think about that. “How can I know if someone else is kissing my Prince or not if I can’t even see what’s going on?”

“That’s the point of that kind of stage kiss,” you pointed out. “It lets the audience fill in the blank. Or there are other ways to handle the kissing scene.”

“And I think you might have jumped the gun a tad there, Wilford,” Ed pointed out. “There’s a bit more chit-chatting that goes on before the kiss, you see.”

Wilford nodded along with all of these points and then snapped his fingers. “Right, take it slow, and easy with the kiss. Like a first date.”

He turned back to you and said, “Hey, Prince, I’ve got a fun idea…”

Wilford leaned in and kissed your cheek before gently whispering in your ear, “Let’s steal a car tonight.”

You couldn’t keep a straight face no matter how hard you tried as you said, “I might be up for breaking a couple rules tonight.”

Wilford grinned even when Yan said, “No, absolutely not, that was way too flirty.”

“Guilty as charged,” Wilford admitted with a shrug before taking a seat.

“And forehead and cheek kisses are even worse than real kisses,” Yan muttered.

“What, since when?” you asked, frowning when you saw some of the other egos nodding in agreement.

“They don’t count,” Bim said, and then looked around when he realized just how loud that was. “I mean…We were trying to show Yan that it’s possible to have a romantic scene without the actors actually being in love, right?”

“Which you still haven’t done,” Yan said. “Wilford, do you love Y/N?”

“Do I love them? Why, I’d shoot everyone in this room for them if they asked!” Wilford answered, and no one felt the need to challenge him on that.

“For the record, I’m not asking and never will,” you said and Wilford shrugged before sitting back in his chair, hand off his gun. “And Yan, how many times are we going to have to do this? Shouldn’t you be the one rehearsing?”

“Uh…” Yan looked at the others on the couch and around the room. “Who else can we get to play Cinderella?”

“The Host hasn’t gotten to play yet,” the King of the Squirrels said.

The Host frowned in the direction of the ego and said, “The Host…politely declines Kin-the King’s invitation, as he prefers to narrate stories, not be a part of them. The Host also points out before the others insist that, even if he were to do so, it would fail to acknowledge a fundamental flaw with these ‘exercises.’”

“What’s that?” Bim asked warily, and you couldn’t help but notice that the other egos were very focused on the Host’s answer.

As if sensing that, the Host sighed and muttered something. Only Dark was close enough to hear what sounded suspiciously like, “This might as well happen,” before the ego spoke up for everyone else.

“Yandereplier insists that it is impossible to confess love within the context of a play without the actors being in love, to which Y/N disagrees. The problem is that so far, all of the ‘actors’ already loved each other. Perhaps not romantically, but platonic and familial love are still forms of love, and their acting has done nothing to change its existence. The Host is reluctant to point out that to prove either right would require another actor who does not already love Y/N.”

You stood there alone in the middle of the room as the egos looked around at each other for a moment before saying, “Well, I guess that’s that then. I’m going to—”

“Well, what about Dark?”

There was silence in the room except for the creak of wood coming from within Dark’s growing aura as he finally gave up on pretending to read and looked around the room.

“Who said that?”

“Well, I didn’t suggest nothin’,” Ed spoke up, “But way I see it, that would fit the bill.”

“Unless you love them,” King added with a cheeky grin.

“It’s just a play, Y/N,” Bim added. “None of it’s real. Come on, you can’t let me down now.”

Dark narrowed his eyes even as he felt his aura settle in around him. He had noticed there was something off about the egos, and now it was clear that something was going on around the edges of the room and on the couches of the ‘audience,’ more than just a debate on whether the new arrangement should count or not. He could shut it down now, or…

“You’re right Bim, it’s just a play,” you answered. “But I can still say right now there is no way I am going to kiss that—”

You stopped short when Dark sighed loudly and stood up. His book, left in the seat of his chair, did nothing to stop Wilford from stealing it, but Dark did not seem to notice as he walked over to the other couch and took Yan’s copy of the script from the ego’s unresisting hands. He could feel all eyes on him as he lazily read over the scene in question until he finally spoke.

“If I recall correctly, the agreement was to perform the lines and the kiss, was it not? I can think of a way to stage it in such a way that might suit Yandere’s…shifting goalposts. Unless someone here has a problem with that?”

He waited, suppressing a smile when he saw the egos giving each other meaningful looks while no one actually spoke up. Oh, it felt good to call a bluff.

That is, until the King of the Squirrels raised his hand and asked, “So does that mean you’ll do it?”

And suddenly Dark was not smiling anymore.

“I feel like the Host made a good point—” Dr. Iplier started.

“The Host asks to be left out of this, please.”

“—And if we don’t settle it now, no one’s going to let it go,” Dr. Iplier continued without acknowledging the interruption.

“Past observational data would suggest the doctor is correct on that,” Google added.

Maybe, and this was difficult to admit even to himself, Dark may have misread the situation a little.

When you spoke up, he was sure that it was to end this farce, but instead you said, “What did you have in mind, Dark?”

“What?”

“Staging it,” you answered, and he could hear the frustration clipping your words short. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Dark hesitated. It was either read the scene or endure the childish mockery of the egos, and as stupid as it was, he could not bow out now without losing face in front of everyone. And he suspected that something similar may have been going through your mind as he moved closer.

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his aura settle until it was barely visible again. You were right, it was best to just get this over with.

“A kiss on the stage means nothing,” Dark said to you and the room at large when he opened his eyes again. “But if you’re insistent on avoiding a physical kiss, one way is to have something in between the two actors’ lips. For example, put a hand on the other person’s cheek—”

As he spoke, he reached up a hand and you instinctively flinched away.

“Y/N,” he said quietly and you glared at him but let him place a hand on your cheek that was on the same side of most of the egos. “Then you just slide your thumb over the other person’s lips and kiss the thumb. It looks close enough to a real kiss if done right, even if it wouldn’t really fool an audience. That should suit your criteria, Yan.”

He let his hand drop and looked to the ego for confirmation.

“…I guess we can see how it looks,” Yan said, glancing at the others before adding, “Let’s try the Prince and Cinderella’s second scene again. So, ball’s over, the Prince has been searching the entire kingdom, Cinderella escaped her stepfamily’s house, drama, drama, and then the Prince finally finds Cinderella walking through the woods with the help of who cares, point is they’re back together again.”

“I feel like we missed a few things,” Silver said.

“I feel like you owe me a dance,” Dark said to you, smiling when you gave him a warning look.

“Who cares?” Yan asked. “This is the important part anyways. Y/N, you start.”

You nodded and glanced at your script again. “Starlight? Is that really you? Are we finally, finally together again?”

A cough barely hid the word, “Act!” from the egos and you gave an exaggerated groan before repeating the line, this time moving closer to Dark as you did so.

Dark barely glanced at his line before drawing away, his eyes not meeting yours. “Please, my Prince. You know that is not my name.”

“But it is you, isn’t it?” You moved closer again. “What may I call you?”

“As I told you before, my name is unimportant to one such as yourself, my Prince.”

You faked a smile, which was difficult as the script told you to reach out and take Dark’s hand. “Haven’t you noticed yet? Could you not know how long I have been searching for you, how far and how long I have looked? You are so very important to me, and I don’t even know your real name.”

“Haven’t you noticed, my Prince? Look at me!” Dark pulled away again and gestured to himself. “I am not the same person you met that night, I never was. I am not your Starlight.”

He turned away from you, head dipping down as he added in a low undertone that still carried through the whole room, “I had a name once. Ella. But I lost it years ago, when my life turned to cinders and ashes. Now all that’s left is ‘Cinderella,’ a pretender and a fake who had to resort to magic to even stand in the same room as Your Highness.”

“Ella.” You paused and then added, “Please, Ella, turn around.”

Dark’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve even heard that name.”

You looked to the script again before, not without some hesitation, placing a hand on Dark’s elbow. “Then let me say it, again and again and again. I love you, Ella.”

“My Prince?” Dark turned and suddenly his hands were on you, one on your waist, the other cupping the side of your face. “I—”

One of the egos made a buzzer sound and there was a round of disapproval around the room.

“What?” Dark asked, his aura flaring up briefly until you pushed his hand away.

You rubbed at your jaw and flinched both at the numb spot already prickling as the feeling returned and at the sudden flicker and buzz of images in the back of your mind. It wouldn’t have been the first time one of the others triggered a memory from the District Attorney, but this was different, less like a vision of the past and more like a haze of different moments just slightly too far out of reach that left you with an unsettling mix of nostalgia and déjà vu.

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Iplier said, ignoring Bim’s ambivalent gesture beside him, “But that last action felt a little…off.”

“What do you mean?” Dark asked, trying hard to rein in his aura and his temper.

“Looking at the scene, Cinderella wouldn’t be holding the Prince like…that,” Bim said, gesturing toward Dark. “That’s more like something the Prince should be doing, going by the dialogue. He’s the one who should be initiating the hands-on stuff.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the top in the relationship,” Yan said.

“Yan!” You glared at the ego, who shrugged.

“Just calling it like I see it.”

“I fail to see how it matters,” Dark muttered at the script.

“It just would feel more accurate, I think,” Bim said with a shrug. “That is, if Y/N can handle being the—”

“I swear to God, Trimmer, if you finish that sentence I will—” You stopped short on your threat, if only because this close you could see Dark struggling not to laugh, but you still felt a spike of anger that didn’t quite match your own reaction. You breathed out and it faded, slightly, but as it did you could now feel a twisting roil of emotions rising and falling with the haze of memories at the back of your mind.

“I didn’t see anything wrong with the scene,” Silver threw in, and soon the egos were debating on who should be holding who.

“Whatever gets this over with,” you said, taking another deep breath which seemed to help before placing a hand on Dark’s shoulder, only for him to wince with a light hiss. You drew back your hand quickly with a quiet, “I’m sorry, I forgot—”

Dark rolled his shoulder, clearly avoiding the urge to rub at it as he answered in a quiet voice that would not carry to the others, “It’s fine, just a little sore.”

“I thought…Shouldn’t you have healed by now?” you asked. You had seen the wound in Dark’s chest up close, but you had also seen him recover from other injuries much faster than a normal person.

“Some things take longer,” he muttered. “It may have something to do with the thing that did it. Like I said, I’m fine.”

His aura flared slightly and you nodded, deciding not to push any farther. You put one hand on his upper arm instead, the other resting on his good shoulder with the script turned so that you could still read from it. The memories spiked but disappeared just as fast before you could make anything out, but they left behind a rush of clashing emotions, such as joy tainted by pain, sadness twisted around guilt, a noxious blend of peaceful happiness and anger.

Was something going on with the District Attorney? But why would this stupid high school play bother them like this? Or had that brief brush with Dark’s aura done it?

If you said something now the egos would just think you were trying to get out of the scene, or worse, start to worry. Speaking of the egos, they were already starting to settle down again and the room was quiet by the time Dark repeated Cinderella’s lines.

“My Prince? I—you can’t mean that. I am just Cinderella.”

There weren’t too many lines left, you told yourself as you read, “Ella, or Cinderella, here in the woods or in any palace, no matter what form you take, the answer will always be the same: I love you, my Starlight. And unlike a magic spell, my love has no time limit. Is the same true for you, or should I leave you be?”

You glanced away from the script and met Dark’s eyes just as he said, “Do you not see the answer in my eyes? I love you, my Prince. My heart beats for you like no other.”

The room around you faded briefly as the memories attempted to surface. Once again, they moved out of reach at the last second, leaving you so disoriented that for a moment you were barely aware of where you were or the touch of Dark’s hand on the side of your face.

“If I am your Starlight, then you are my Sunlight, giving life to my days.”

The sickening mix of emotions returned stronger than ever, pulling you into a hundred different directions as he leaned in for the “kiss.” Until they all converged onto one single, overpowering emotion when you realized: his thumb hadn’t moved to your lips.

The slap resonated in the silent room as you suddenly found yourself with one hand pressed against Dark’s mouth.

Heart hammering, a little light-headed but back in control, you paused only for a split-second before leaning in and kissing the back of your hand above Dark’s lips.

“There, one kiss that means absolutely nothing,” you said to the room at large. “If that’s not enough for you, get someone else to play the Prince.”

With that, you tossed your script down and walked out of the room.

Dark stood alone in the middle of the room, one hand still raised to his stinging mouth, and slowly became aware of the conversation going on among the egos once they recovered.

“That didn’t really count as a kiss, did it?” Silver asked. “I know Roxanne says nothing should get in the way of our, heh, quality time, which is why my mask keeps these luscious lips ready for puckering.”

“I did not need to know that,” Dr. Iplier muttered.

“Well, no one said it couldn’t be a stage kiss,” Ed pointed out. “It’s more than I’ve gotten in a while, if you know what I mean.”

“Surprising no one,” Bim said, earning an elbow to the ribs from the salesman. He winced and added, “But someone with more experience in the area such as myself can tell you, that wasn’t a kiss.”

“This just in, Jim,” Jim said as he turned to his brother with a conspiratorial whisper, “Popular opinion is that it was too close to call. It looks like we’ll have to rely on our impartial judges for a ruling on the bet.”

Dark’s aura did not just spread out, it started to leech the color from the area around him with a deep, thrumming noise.

“What did you just say?”

Almost everyone who had turned to look at the Googles suddenly pretended to be busy or just very interested in the furniture as the sounds of Dark’s aura filled the entire room.

The Host’s lips moved silently as he read ahead before he answered, ignoring the hissed warnings from the other egos, “They are referring to whether the kiss in question would count toward the bet going on among some of the egos. In particular, the portion of the bet that related to whether or not Y/N would kiss certain persons in the room, along with other certain outcomes.”

“Yan,” Dark said and the ego quailed under his glare.

“Don’t blame me! I really did need the help…until I found out Senpai was going to be working with the stage crew and not actually in the play,” Yan said, their voice becoming a petulant mutter at that last part, then they spoke up again to add, “I was going to say something when I found out, but then they told me to keep it going!”

“The bet was not for monetary gain, if that is any consolation,” the Google in the red shirt said as he pulled up a screen. “If you are curious, it appears that the greatest odds were on Y/N not kissing anyone. The single condition with the lowest number of winners would have been if Y/N finished the scene and kissed Darkiplier.”

“Excuse me?” Dark felt his aura lash out again and the Google frowned at his glitching screen.

“Even better question, why wasn’t I let in on this?” Wilford asked, the picture of indignation.

“You were not even included in the pool,” Google answered. “It is well known that Wilford Warfstache will happily kiss anyone if given the chance.”

Wilford opened his mouth as if to protest and then sat back with a shrug. “You got me there. Well, who won?”

“No one,” Dark assured Wilford with a crack of his neck. He would see to that personally.

Bim Trimmer, who had been consulting with the original Google, turned to the rest of the room and asked, “Okay, which one of you put odds on both a slap and a kiss?”

And Dark added, along with the echoing hum and creak of his aura, “More importantly, which one of you idiots came up with this bet?”

The Host gave a heavy sigh, but it wasn’t immediately clear which question he was responding to when he said, “…Kinkiplier.”

A second later, Dark’s aura reached a new high pitch.

“Why are you all looking at me?!”

---

Down the hall, you winced at the high-pitched ringing coming from the living room but kept walking. Maybe some fresh air outside would clear your head. However, when you opened the back door you almost ran into the person standing on the other side, who had his hand raised to knock.

“Oh, hi Y/N. I’m the King of the Squirrels.”

“Hi King,” you said, eyes turned upwards as though fascinated with the top of the doorframe. “Trust me, I know who you are.”

“Good,” the King said with a sigh of relief. “I was afraid no one would recognize me without my crown. I fell asleep and when I woke up it was gone!”

“Y-yeah, I can see that,” you said. “Uh, King—”

“Can’t go walking around without a crown! Luckily, I knew how to make a temporary one,” the King said, and you risked looking down far enough to see that he was pointing to the flower crown on his head. “Will you help me find my real one? I’ll let you have my flower one if you do!”

“Uh, sure, but can we go by the laundry room first?” you asked. “I think there should be plenty of spare clothes for, uh…”

The King of the Squirrels looked down at his very naked self and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess if you think that’s important, but I don’t think my crown will be there.”

“Believe me, it’s important,” you said, leading the way. On the way to the laundry room, you could hear the loud voices coming from down the hall, but fortunately you didn’t have to go close enough to make out any actual words. “Hey, King, what did you think of Cinderella? I guess it must have been boring if you left early to go take a nap.”

“What? No, I love that movie!” the King said, and proceeded to hum the tune of “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” while getting dressed.

You thought that was strange, but didn’t question it further. After all, the day had been strange enough on its own and left you with more than enough to think about. Besides, looking for a lost crown sounded like a far better alternative to any more acting.

((End of Acting Lessons. Thank you for reading! And for the record, Wilford was referencing Ninja Sex Party’s First Date (warning, some explicit lyrics) with that kiss and steal a car line, because that’s absolutely how a first date with Wilford would go.

And yeah, this was a weird one for me, but I’m hoping it was enjoyable and that it ties in well with the next story and the last one I have planned for a while in this series.

Tagging: @silver-owl413  @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite  @blackaquokat  @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350  @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley  @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead  @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

[ionica01]

TodoMomo Disney AU

@kitanoko I don’t really have enough words to thank you Dora! Whether you know it or not, you did help me meet some of my best friends out there, and since today’s your bday, I hope to return the favor, if only a little. Last year I started a silly coffee shop AU. Keeping the tradition, here are hcs to a Todomomo Disney AU that I will, one day, write. I hope you enjoy it!!

Part 2

Momo’s Mom died after giving birth to her, leaving her an her father alone. As such, the two develop a very strong bond (they’re the only family the other has left) and can’t imagine living without the other. That’s why, despite Momo turning 18 soon, she can’t even fathom getting married, and promises she’ll never leave her sickly father, moving in with her possible mostly improbable fiance.

Her Dad, however, wants her to start a family and be happy, and it breaks his heart that Momo puts him before herself.

Momo is content with her life as it is, because she lives the adventures she’d like to embark on through books. She’s read and reread every single book in the little library in her village, and often stops to chat with Aizawa, the librarian, who seems to be the only person in town not judging her for being a literate and asseritve woman. Not that she cares what others think - she’s fine being the outcast; it means no one will bother her and her father and disrupt their feeble balance with marriage proposals stemming from shallow looks. She especially dislikes Monoma, a guy who constantly asserts his greatness through meaningless acts and tries obtaining her hand in marriage like she’s some prize to hold in his trophy case.

One day, her father goes on a business trip (their town is too small for him to make profit selling clocks, which is their family tradition) and asks Momo what she wishes for. She kisses his cheek as he leaves and says, “Nothing, father. I only wish for you to come back safe.” “Come on, dear. Your birthday is coming up - at least tell me what gift you want.” She chuckles, shaking her head softly. “Then, a rose.”

What Momo really yearns for are friends, friends that won’t approach her for her status or looks, but people that genuinely like her and don’t think she’s weird, like the rest of the town does. She wants someone to talk to about books apart from Aizawa and her own father, and he wants to be respected. Sadly, that’s not the sort of present you can just wrap in a nice red bow and ship through the post.

A week passes by, and Momo starts realising just how lonely she is without her father, how dubious the looks everyone throws her are, how disgusting the stares of the boys in the village. She goes by the post everyday, the letters and cursive writing of her father being her only company.

But one day, the envelope doesn’t come. It doesn’t come the second and third day either, and Momo grows increasingly worried. No longer able to just stand by and do nothing, she leaves the third day, at nightfall, taking a horse from the stable and following the road she knows her father always takes.

As she enters the forest (never been there before, but knows her father’s stories about how beautiful this place is and that he’s always passing by a posh mansion with an wonderful garden) the night falls. The moonlight reflects off something and catches her eye, and Momo hops off her horse to grab the glistening object - it’s a watch on an old, golden pendant, one that she knows all too well. It’s her mother’s watch, that her dad always takes with when travelling.

Momo raises her eyes to see she’s in front of the mansion her father told her so much about, only to find it completely deserted - just like in his stories. Still, it’s her best shot, cause Momo knows her Dad would never lose the watch, he just isn’t that careless, and so she pushes the huge iron gates open. To her surprise, they’re unlocked, but their screech like they haven’t been used in a long time

Meanwhile, Iida (he’s Cogsworth fight me) rushes into Todoroki’s chambers, “Lord Todoroki! We have another visitor, and this time, it’s a girl!” “So what?” “What do you fucking mean so what you bastard?!” Bakugou yells, opening and closing his doors furiously (he’s the wardrobe). “I don’t care if you think the beast suit is cool but I fucking want to be human again, so get down there and don’t you fucking dare growl at her!” “I hate trespassers,” Todoroki seethes, closing his book loudly. “Why would she be any different from anyone who passed over the threshold?” “Just fucking GO!” Bakugou roars, and Kaminari (Lumiere wohooo) lights up Todoroki’s tail. “My lord, no offense, but you brooding here won’t change anything, whereas this girl might. Besides, I heard her calling for her father, so we might as well let the old man go.” “Why were you keeping him in the first place?” Todoroki asks, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Because, my lord,” Iida fixes his glasses, “I thought something like this might happen!” “Brilliant,” Bakugou grits out, “Now fucking get out.”

(Somewhat reluctantly) climbing down the stairs, Todoroki is met with Midoriya (Mr. Potts because there aren’t enough characters in the original story) and informs Todo, “She went to the cells.” “Oh, just marvelous,” Todo growls, storming down the stairs as Kaminari calls, “Slower, my lord, or my flames will go out!”

She finds a girl indeed, crouching in front of the cell with the old man and holding his hands in between hers. When she hears his footsteps, she whips her head around, and Todo must hand it to her: nobody has ever looked angrier upon first seeing him. There’s no ounce of fear as she looks him up and down, fire burning in her eyes as she says, “Who are you?”

“The lord of this castle.” “Why did you lock my father away?” “Momo don’t-” “He was trespassing my grounds and vandalizing my garden,” Todo lazily answers. “What do you ask for to free him?” Todoroki feels Kaminari poking him with the flamed hands again and holds back a growl of annoyance. He knows what everyone wants, but they’re honestly just raising their hopes for naught. Although this girl - this girl who stands up straight and stares him down - she may be different. “You need to take his place.”

“Momo, no!” the man yells. “Run away and save yourself!” “And leave you here? Never, father.” Looking at him again, the girl takes a step toward Todo, and he finally notices that she is shivering, but her knees don’t buckle. “I’ll stay here,” she begis, “as long as you promise that my father is allowed to go and you’ll never bother or harm him in any way, shape or form. No loopholes. No trickeries. My life for his.” “MOMO!” “That sounds fair,” Todo says with a smirk - this might be interesting.

With the flick of his fingers, the cell door opens and the old man stumbles out, throwing his arms tightly against the girl. “Momo, I can’t lose you!” she mumbles something Todo can’t make out as she shifts in his arms to hug him, and Todo turns around, stalking up the stairs. “Follow me,” he says, adding menacingly, “And don’t you try turning this around. A deal’s a deal.”

As such, after a teary goodbye Todo doesn’t stick around to witness, the old man is off and the girl turns towards him with a determined look. “Will you show me to my cell?” Todo huffs a breath laugh that sounds more like a roar. “Uraraka,” he calls, and a teapot appears. “Lead her to her chambers, and don’t bother me until dinner.” And with that, he’s off.

Uraraka does as inspected, stealing glances at a Momo who looks after Todoroki’s for. “What does he mean ‘chambers’? Am I not his prisonier?” “Oh dear no, you’re his guest!” Uraraka exclaims. “He just isn’t the best host, but we’ll take care of you!”

The room is dusty, but an old clock calls for a certain Jirou, and a feather duster waltzes in, “We get a guest once in a blue moon and suddenly I’m Cinderella minus the crystal shoes and prince,” she sighs, to which a candle holder shouts, “I’m your prince in shining armor,” he winks, the flames getting brighter. Uraraka dumps water on his head, “ruining his hairstyle” and eliciting giggles from Jirou.

Momo collapses on the bed and feels her view growing hazy. Soon enough, warm tears are streaming down her cheeks and she buries her face in her hands, sobbing rippling through her spine. The duster and candle holder stop bickering and join the teapot that hops on her bed. “Dear? What’s wrong?” Momo lets out a brittle laugh, “What do you think? I’m God knows where, with talking furniture, and a beast that has decided to hold me captive for unknown reasons and worst of all? Father is alone! How can he lose me after he lost Mom? I hate that I did this to him but what else could I have done?” Her thoughts swarm out of control and she takes a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I’m crying in public, this is so embarrassing.”

Jirou pats her hand, the feathery touch making Momo laugh, if only barely. “You did the right thing,” she says. The candle holder chimes in, “Yeah, and Todoroki is nice! He’s eccentric and kinda helps Uraraka pour water on me to dampen my mood-” at this, the teapot wiggled menacingly and Kaminari clears his throat “- but he’s a nice guy. He cares, you know? He only fed your Dad our best stuff!” “The grey stuff!” a voice from the wardrobe says, and Momo turns around to discover it is the wardrobe speaking.

“Why are you all guys-why are you all objects? Were you always like this?” They collectively shake their… heads, Momo decides to call them heads for lack of a better word. “And has he always been… a beast?” Another shake. “Have you been cursed?” At this, Jirou notes, “This one’s smart, I like her. Can we keep her?” “Am I here to help break that spell?” “Oh we’re definitely keeping her,” Uraraka adds.

Kaminari and Iida insist on giving her a tour of the mansion, and so Momo finds out that there are three cats roaming around the premises, and that Lord Todoroki personally feeds every one of them (“they can see beyond the scary exterior,” Iida contemplates, whereas Kaminari conspiratorially whispers in Momo’s ear, “They probably just think he’s one of their own”); the kitchens are impeccable, and Momo is subjected to test taste so many things she thinks she’ll burst; the main lobby is warmed by a crackling fireplace in front of which Lord Todoroki likes reading and enjoying his morning coffee (and his cups are so small, despite his claws).

And yet, it all feels very… Empty, and somewhat lacking, Momo thinks.

She doesn’t see Todoroki that day, or the next one, or the one after that. She tries knocking at his door but only gets angry growls, followed by an annoyed voice yelling, “Just fucking go out there, you moron!” and a roared, “NO!”

“What’s the point of me even being here?” she asks the humming piano in the corner, a cheery girl named Camie. “Lord Todo can be stubborn,” she singsongs. “And I think you’re confusing him.” “Confusing… him?” “Well, to be fair,” Ashido interrupts, “every other human who saw him ran away.” “It’s totally because of his weird fur. I keep telling him to wear a wig,” Camie sighs. “I think she was going for scary,” Jirou sarcastically interrupts. “Scary,” Momo muses. “It’s more like… he tries to seem scary.”

Anyhow, she decides to take a walk and clear her mind cause the sooner she breaks the spell, the sooner she sees her dad again. Kaminari and Iida accompany her in the garden, and as she marvels at the roses, she notices one of the cats crawling between the bars of the gates and into the woods. Momo immediately follows her because the servants have told her how these cats are the only company Todoroki has and that he treasures them immensely, but when she finally catches the runaway, she finds herself in the middle of the woods… surrounded by wolves.

Iida runs to get Todo, “My Lord, our guest is-” but finds the room empty and the window open because Todo was watching from the window and saw her disappear, and he figured she might be in danger.

Momo is cradling the cat to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as the wolves get closer and trying to think but then Todo jumps in front of her and roars ferociously. The fight isn’t nice, and the wolves’ fangs cut through Todo’s arm as a pained groan rips out of him. That’s when Momo knows she has to do something and grabs Kaminari, yelling, “Shine brighter!” as she shoves the fire in the wolves faces. That makes them run away, just as Todoroki collapses behind Momo.

She carries him back to the mansion and instructs Kaminari to bring her rubbing alcohol and cotton tissues. Todoroki stirs with his head in her lap and Momo places both of her hands on his face, hissing, “Oh just stay quiet.” When Kaminari finally gets back, the alcohol warmed by his flames, Momo realizes none of the bandages is wide enough for Todo’s beastly arm and rips a piece of her dress to properly tie up his wounds.

“Why are you doing this?” Todo pants, turning away from Momo so she won’t see his face. “Because you saved me,” she simply responds, tying up the impromptu bandage. “Well that’s rich, considering I put you in danger in the first place.” “Did you ask the wolves to attack me because you re you a wolf-whisperer?” she asks, voice dripping with irony. “No, but if I wasn’t holding you here, you wouldn’t have wanted to escape, right?”

Momo bends over him so he can see her serious face and says, “I was out because your cat ran away.” As if to prove her point, the grey cat rubs against her tights and meowls. “I’m a girl of my word, Lord Todoroki, and I said I’m staying here. No trickeries.�� For the first time ever, Todo sees her smile at him, and it’s dazzling. It’s been so long since anyone has smiled for him last.

Straightening herself up, Momo extends her hand. “I think we started off the wrong foot. I’m Momo Yaoyorozu, and you’ve been a horrible guest for these past three days, Lord Todoroki.” He looks at her bewildered, and Kaminari pokes him with his aflame hand to remind Todoroki he should shake her hand. To his surprise, she doesn’t flinch when his paw envelopes her slender fingers. “Todoroki Shouto,” he mumbles and watches as the smile on her face widens, reaching her eyes and sending glimmers dancing. “It’s a pleasure,” she answers.

They stay up till late in the living room with the crackling fireplace, Momo talking about the bits she’s gathered since her arrival. “I’m not leaving until I break this curse. That’s why you wanted me here, right?” Todo nods, at a loss for words, and a smirk pulls at her lips. “For a man who hasn’t talked with anyone else for years, you sure have a presence,” she jests.

He can’t quite wrap his head around her, neither does he know what to do when she dozes off way past midnight on the couch. Iida instructs him to carry ehr to her chambers, but she looks so fragile that Shouto just drapes a blanket over her and watches her peaceful face for a minute longer before facing Bakugou’s angry growls (he dad, after all, ruin one of his best suits).

This is just PART 1. The real Todomomo comes in part 2, which I still hope to get out in time for your bday:) Also I have to thank my glam fam for adding hcs to this (I should have a special edition just for punny kami thanks to @verdandys-art and a BakuCamie star-crossed lovers story thanks to @teenytraveler and @infallibleimperfection lol)

But until then, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DORA!!!

[kurtty-drabbles]

Misfit

N/A: Before I go to my studying torture. I need to take this cute idea out of my system.

Movie! Kurtty.

@djinmer4

Kitty Pryde is a brilliant student. Diligent and force drivers to the point she was graduated earlier in her high school and even graduated in her university with all the honours.

It has some perks in being a prodigy. Her parents let the young woman travel through Europe to have fun, it was a silent agreement between them.

It has many downsides to being a prodigy. Her doe eyes darted to the empty seat next to her. Yes, there are many downsides that Kitty is growing too comfortable with the time.

She is in Munich, Germany. Travelling and meeting the new place. Here, it has an itinerant circus very famous. Kitty is never the one to enjoy anything with the name circus attached but...once in Roma, do as the Romans do.

The circus was similar to the Circus of de Solei, of it wasn´t for one small detail.

"Now, introducing the amazing Nightcrawler" the voice repeated the same line in several languages. A young man cover in blue and fur is taking the lead as he awed the crowd with his movements.

It is like he is flying! That so cool.

The man in his blue fuzzy suit is practically flying over the crow once again. This time, however, the ropes allowed him to be above Kitty´s hair. To her own surprise, the man put a paper flower on her hair and with that(and some gibberish German words it was too fast to understand) the young man goes away.

A new attraction starts but it wasn´t as nearly exciting as the "Amazing Nightcrawler"

When the Circus is over people walk talking about the show in higher regard. Kitty, however, wants to see the acrobat. Should she keep the flower or return to him?

Her mutation allows Kitty to sneak away easily. Kitty never imagines how a circus is when the public is out. It certainly lost a bit of its original magic.

Looking for the man in the blue suit as stealthy as possible. She spots a cage with several odd symbols craved, but, it wasn´t the oddest part. No, the oddest part is that the blue acrobat from before is living in that cage peaceful(and a bit relieved)

What?

Kitty tries to approaches the cage soundless but to her surprise, the blue young man, without even looking at her, recognize her presence.

"Are you lost, frau?" the man asked friendly.

"Oh, no, I just want..." she looks at the cage and at the man there " it doesn´t matter, are you alright? why they put you in a cage?"

"No one put me here, I put myself here...is for protection, now, why are you here?" the question has no malice in its tone.

"I ...you gave me the paper flower and I thought I should give back to you or was I mistaken? It is my first time here" Kitty explained and Kurt chuckles.

"I gave the flower to you. It is for to keep or throw away. my name is Kurt Wagner, but here I´m the amazing Nightcrawler"

Kitty giggles at the response.

"My name is Kitty Pryde, and I´m the American tourist here." how no one walks by this area is a luck for Kitty as maybe the others would kick her out. They talk about the show.

"It looks like you were flying...like you are free from any problem"

"Danke, I certainly wish it was true"

"Did someone is mistreating you here? and again, the cage situation sort gave away"

"Well, the cage is to keep someone out of my life. I can appreciate the irony in this situation"

As times goes. Kitty realizes she needs to return to her hotel. But before she goes.

"Can I ask something? Are you a mutant?" Kurt looks at her like a deer caught in the headlight. "Because I´m one myself too" her small hands phase through one of the bars easily.

"Das ist großartig. Ich dachte, ich wäre hier die einzige Mutante" (that is amazing. I thought I was the only mutant here)

"No, you aren´t," she said kindly and Kurt asked if she could return tomorrow.

"Of course, I will love to see you again" then she amends"flying, I mean, your show is pretty amazing"

On the next day, the show went on the same peace as before, although some changes were visible. A woman named Jimaine is doing the talk for today and did most of the stunts. She is not hiding her own opinions about her performance.

I don´t like her.

Kurt, for his part, seems to want to be as far away from this woman as possible.

His show was amazing and Kitty was awed once again. Another paper flower was put on her hair. People don´t seem to mind the choir from yesterday. One person did and she is not happy with this action.

When the show is over, the girl sneak around again to see Kurt, once again in his cage.

"Kurt, the show was good as always. Well, I have only watched two so far" she teased and Kurt pouts. " could you tell me why you are in this cage?"

"I told you, I want someone out of my life, this is the next best thing"

"Who?"

Kurt didn´t seem to want to give the name either for fear or maybe annoyance at Kitty. Maybe Kitty could have been more tactile in her question but there´s no time to dwell on the what ifs.

"There are you, Kurt" Jemaine's voice rings louder and clear, in English, as she walks to talk with the blue fuzzy young man. "Oh, miss I hope this little creature hasn´t deceived you with his lies. Kurt loves to lie about everything, the poor mother she has no idea she is sheltering a liar"

"The only liar here is you, Jemaine."

The blonde woman merely ignored Kurt and continues to talk with Kitty.

"I saw you can phase through objects and you really shouldn´t be here. How about a deal? you let me inside the cage and I don´t tell anyone about your illicit acts, after all, it is illegal trespassing, no matter the country"

"And are you going to hurt Kurt? Look, I don´t get the whole picture here, but I can see he is scared of you and you are up with no good, so, for whatever reason, you can enter in his cage it is better for him"

Jimaine looks peeved and summons a small ball of energy.

"If you don´t do it, then I can force at my will, I´m untouchable and I get my way always." Jimaine looks sinister and whatever would happen it will remain in her mind as someone else joins the conversation.

"Are you sure about this, my liar of daughter" a new voice jolts Jimaine who let go of the ball of energy and looks frightful to the voice´s owner. It is Margalia Zsardos.

"Mother, thank god you are here, this American woman and Kurt were conspiring to attack me, I was merely defending my self" Jimaine tried to explain herself but Margalia has none of that as she summons strong winds that are carrying Jimaine.

"And to think, my own daughter would be this rotten, I return from my coven with your older brother and what I find? That my daughter is abusing her power to hurt her own brother and bullying everyone in MY CIRCUS"

"Mother!"

"Quite! I was too lenient with you, but to think, Kurt would have to resort in be in a cage with my symbols just to be away from you, it breaks my heart, from now on, you Jimaine will be placed in the cage, with your father´s symbols, maybe a bit of solitude will clear your head" and the winds, a small hurricane is obeying Margalia´s orders.

The older woman hasn't talked to Kitty yet. She first goes to Kurt and hugs them.

"Son!, why didn´t you tell me? I would have stopped her"

"But...she is your blood daughter"

"Kurt!" Margalia looks shocked "you are my son as well, I would die for my 3 sons, how can you think you are less important, did I do something to give this impression?" she cries and Kurt hugs her again, the young man confessed how scared he was from Jimaine and how everyone was terrified of the young woman.

Margalia pats his back gently promising to never let that happen again. A kiss on his forehead seems to seal the deal. Now, the older woman looks at Kitty who is feeling out of place in this situation.

"And who are you?" Margalia asked kindly way different from the way she speaks with Jimaine.

"I´m Kitty Pryde"

"Since you are here, already, and my son give you two paper flowers, do you want to see the rest of the circus?" she asked happy to see Kurt out of the cage."Maybe, Kurt can show you around, after all, he did give you two paper flowers"

Kitty is a bit clueless.

Kurt is blushing.

And Margalia knows that her role as a mother is a job that will never be over. But seeing Kurt talking with this young woman is something quite cute in her books.

[srichardart]

Fourth sketch. First. Previous. Next.

Weeks had passed and Imri’s carefully crafted reputation had begun to crumble. The older folks were the first to see through his charm, when they realized he had no intention of doing anything more than managing the finances of the farm. Maybe he had lead them to believe otherwise when he asked for advice, but Imri for his own part couldn’t see why that bothered them so much. It wasn’t as if he was doing absolutely nothing, like Ava and Gawain, who spent every day gallivanting about the town and pestering people. He ensured they kept to a budget and earned enough from the crops to continue planting throughout the seasons, while having enough left over to support themselves. And they had a lot left over, thanks to the price increases and the mythical stories he weaved around the farm. Most of their income didn’t even come from the villagers themselves- who Imri ordinarily offered discounts to ensure they would tolerate him- but by exporting to neighboring towns and villages.

He suspected his success, despite the lack of hard labor, was what made the villagers annoyed with them. Every now and again he’d hear a couple of middle aged farmers muttering about ‘city boys’ when he walked past. It’d be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy the infamy to some degree, especially when the daughters of those same farmers still appreciated Imri as much as they had when he first arrived. Granted, nearly every young man in town now seemed to hate him. Now and again one of them would puff their chests out, as if they were ready to fight him over the attentions of a girl. Imri was a slight man and the only time he had held a sword was moments before he refused to ever learn how to fight. If one of them ever did hit him, he would be in trouble. He wasn’t stupid and he knew damned well any one of these country boys could lay him out flat if they wanted to. Thankfully, they in turn knew he could do much worse than merely punch back. Most times it never came to that. The girls in question usually stopped the fights themselves, as they smacked the youths and told them to knock it off. He could never resist shooting a smile back at the boys as he left with the girl.

The only locals he still had favor with were the girls. Some simply enjoyed having fun with him, while others thought they could make him settle down in spite of his every effort to tell them otherwise. Regardless of the girls’ intentions, he stole away with them into haylofts, fields and, on one daring occasion, snuck through a window into a bedroom. That time he had been caught. He’d barely started kissing Celine when her father come roaring into the room to chase him out. It might have scared a farm boy out in heartbeats, but Imri wasn’t the type to flee. He stood up, apologized for trespassing and tried to explain that Celine had invited him in. It was only when her father wouldn’t stop cursing him that Imri warned him what might happen if he continued to cross him.

He might have gone too far.

After that he heard fewer whispers and the farm boys didn’t dare confront him. So, Imri thought it wasn’t all bad, even if he felt bad for scaring the old man. Maybe he’d write him an apology. Send him a fruit basket, something.

Unfortunately, after all that, he managed to tear the sleeve of his favorite shirt. Probably while he was climbing in through Celine’s window. He paid a visit to the tailor that week, after figuring that such a small repair would take little time. The shop was small, featuring only a small range of clothes to buy. Likely the only time the villagers bought new clothes was for festivals and their idea of ‘nice clothes’ was ‘barely acceptable’ by his standards. Most of the shop’s revenue probably came from repairing work clothes throughout the year. It was when he realized one of the tailor’s apprentices was manning the shop that Imri wanted to groan.

Adalena was organizing the shop’s fabrics when the bell caught her attention. “One moment,” she started until she saw Imri. Her familiar scowl returned.

“Look, let’s just make this painless, alright?” Imri said, unable to stop himself from sighing. “I just want my shirt fixed.”

She put her hands on her hips as she turned fully to face him. “What, are you going to tell your father if I don’t?”

Alright, maybe he did deserve that one. He pressed his lips together and considered what to say to put her at ease. “…That wasn’t exactly what happened.”

���Oh? So… you didn’t break into Celine’s room and when her father was rightfully angry, you didn’t threaten to have your father’s guards haul him away if he didn’t show the respect that you, a prince, deserve?” She raised an eyebrow at him, looking at him expectantly. “Did I get that right, your highness, or would you care to show a shred of honesty? If it pleases you, of course.”

Imri cleared his throat and crossed his arms behind his back. Although he was aware that Adalena didn’t like him, he hadn’t seen her angry at him. “Okay, so that was what happened,” he admitted, grimacing as he shrugged a shoulder in guilt. “I went too far- I admit it. I mean, I wouldn’t actually have him hauled off, I… uh, I don’t think my father would even allow that if I’m being perfectly honest.”

She stood entirely still, scowling at him.

Imri looked away, feeling his ears get hot. “Though I know he doesn’t know that and I, uh, I plan to apologize to him. Today, in fact.” He wasn’t aware that was the truth until he said it to her scrutinizing face. Even if he considered not doing so, he knew Adalena wouldn’t be one to let him off the hook. He stepped toward the counter and gingerly placed the ripped shirt on the counter. “I just came to have this fixed first, that’s all.”

She rolled her eyes, fluttering her eyelids as if she couldn’t cope with his presence any longer. “Fine. Pick it up at noon. Payment will be due then.”

“I’ll pay you now and more if you fix it now.” He’d said it without thinking, but decided he wouldn’t take it back when one corner of her mouth twitched in irritation. He slipped a few gold coins from his sleeve and held them out to her, knowing that it would be uncommon for an apprentice to get this much money, especially for a simple repair job.

“Do you really think you can just throw money at people until they do what you want?” she asked.

“Do you really not want it?”

She snatched the gold, biting one of the coins to test its authenticity. Of course she knew he was good for the coin and he knew it was meant to insult him. He decided not to take it at face value as she brought out some thread from under the counter and got to work.

“So…” He leaned one arm on the counter as she threaded the needle.

“I’m working. Can’t talk,” she said, knotting off the thread and refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Bull, I’ve seen you chatting with your friends while you work before,” he said, getting a brief glare from her although she didn’t say otherwise. “I just have one question for you. Why do you hate me?”

“Oh, you mean besides the fact that you use your position to threaten my friends and their family?” Her tone was dry as she quickly analyzed the tear, then began to pin the sides of the fabric together.

“That would be a great reason if you didn’t already hate me long before this.”

Adalena look up at him, eyes furious and began to sew. Imri pursed his lips, biting back a sigh as he stood up straight again.

“I don’t mean to badger you,” he said, earning a snort of derision from her. He continued anyway. “I mean it. Whatever I might have done- and I’m sure I did something, I know I can step on a lot of toes, going about my usual business, but I truly didn’t mean to step on yours- I’d like to address it, fix it, whatever I might do. At the very least, I’d like to be able to give a sincere apology.”

Her sewing slowed to a stop and she looked up at him, eyebrows knitting together in what almost looked like confusion. “You sound awfully sincere already,” she said, her voice full of suspicion.

“Is it really so hard to believe I might be?” he asked. “I mean, to be frank, while I would like to give you an apology, you are making this rather difficult.”

She frowned, then rolled her eyes. “You are so likeable.”

“I am!” he objected, a little hurt. “If you actually got to know me, I might surprise you, you know. I’m not half as bad as you seem to think- you might even like me.”

“Debatable,” she said simply, returning to the shirt. At first he thought she was going to refuse to speak any further, as she made stitch after stitch without saying another word. He was ready to give up on her, there was no use in pressing her any further if she didn’t want to answer his question.

“You know,” she said, catching his attention. “I’m beginning to think that I was tricked.”

He tilted his head slightly at her. “Tricked? By who?”

She removed a few pins from the fabric as they became unnecessary, sticking them into a tiny cushion on the counter. “I was told by a certain someone that you had plans for me. I can’t say I’m certain you don’t, but I’m beginning to think they weren’t quite as sinister as first implied.” Her eyes flicked up to him. “I think you can guess who. I have noticed you two don’t get along.”

His nose crinkled up. “Ava.” The seamstress confirmed this and Imri crossed his arms, huffing out an irritated groan. “So, what was it then? What terrible plans did I have in store for you?”

“Oh, about the same as you seem to have with every girl in town,” she said, her voice high and mocking. “I thought she was exaggerating at first, but then you went about seducing all of my friends one by one, so…”

He couldn’t help but shrug a shoulder, at the risk of looking uncaring. “It’s hardly seducing if everyone involved already wants to jump into bed.”

“They’re only sleeping with you because they’re hoping to leave here princesses.”

“Well…yes, some of them,” he admitted, grimacing uncomfortably. Not every girl in the village was like that- most of them weren’t, but the few who were could be exhausting at times. “It’s not as if I haven’t tried dissuading them from that. I let them know what I’m about.”

She paused long enough to give him a dry, unimpressed expression.

“I do!” he insisted. “I keep telling them I’m not here to get married, but they keep hoping that I’ll just magically change my mind.”

“Have you tried, I don’t know, not sleeping with them?”

They stared at each other, both at an impasse. Though, he had to admit, she looked less hateful now. More like she was thoroughly done with him. He supposed that was an improvement.

“You know what?” she said, shaking her head with a small smile. “I believe you, I don’t think you’ve seduced anyone.”

“See, if everyone would just listen-”

“You’re not charming enough to be capable of that.” She tied off the thread and cut off the excess. Folding the shirt, she placed it on the counter in front of him with a thin, pleased smile. “All done.”

He studied her for a second, an annoyed pout on his lips before he snatched up the shirt. “Thank you,” he forced himself to say and left the tailor’s shop.

[wordsablaze]

Legacy Of Love

Even if you realise it because of two teenage wizards messing with time, knowing that you have a legacy is a pretty nice birthday present… A Harry Potter Phan crossover written for Hermione’s birthday! Enjoy!

They’re so done for.

Absolutely done for.

In fact, they couldn’t possibly be any more done for.

This is the end of their time at Hogwarts. It’s the end of their time together. It’s the end of all time that can exist and the end of all time that is simply an illusion designed to school routine into children’s heads so that they conform without question in later life.

At least, that’s what Dan would tell you if you asked him. If you asked Phil, you’d get a different response. A completely different response that would make you question how two boys with such different responses to a potentially hopeless situation could ever be friends.

But of course nobody gets a chance to ask Phil because Dan’s the one who’s currently panicking and rambling about fireworks being exploded without proper consent. Which is a debatable topic that has absolutely no relevance whatsoever to anything at all in this particular moment.

The two of them hadn’t actually been doing anything wrong, illegal, or immoral, but they’d had the unfortunate misfortune of being caught by the brightest witch in recent history. It only takes a few minutes for said witch, who’d brought them back to her office before either of them could even begin to justify their actions, to sigh in frustration and place her hands on her hips with a doubting frown on her face.

“And you two were trespassing because?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dan finally decides to shut up about the fireworks, letting Phil lace their fingers together and step forwards, as if shielding the rather panicked teenager with his superficially elegant poise.

“We’re sorry, we’ve gone there before without knowing that it’s private land and simply went back to get something we’d left behind; we weren’t trying to steal anything,” Phil explains calmly.

Dan doesn’t know how he can be so calm at a time like this. Well, he doesn’t know how Phil can be calm at any point in life. How can someone who possesses the power to change all known laws of science ever be calm when their world is constantly revealing how ignorant they used to be?

“You’re not lying.” The witch sounds surprised, as if expecting them to have lied, to be evil.

“We’re really not.” Phil squeezes Dan’s hand as he says this, urging him to stay calm.

Yet again, Dan wonders how Phil can tell when he’s upset or stressed. He wonders how the two of them are so connected that one can be aware of the emotions running through the other’s veins even when they’re facing opposite directions. He would call it magical, but the irony of that phrasing would never forgive him.

“What were you attempting to retrieve?” the witch asks, again, looking a lot more relaxed now that she knows they’re not a threat.

And now it’s Phil’s turn to panic, or rather, freeze as he internally panics.

Clearing his throat, Dan pulls the other boy backwards and meets the witch’s curious gaze with a confidence he only feels when protecting Phil. “It was a… uh, trinket. Of sorts.”

The witch’s expression hardens suddenly, as if detecting something. She narrows her eyes at them, as if realising something. And, as she pulls out a golden necklace that looks suspiciously like the one they’d gone back for in the first place, the two boys gasp as if something has suddenly dawned on them.

“No!” Dan yells as she turns the dial and vanishes, knowing that she knows they know she knows exactly what they were looking for.

“Dan…” Phil starts, but even he trails off as he thinks about it, the two of them subconsciously edging closer to each other as they wait.

It takes the witch longer than expected and neither of them would like to wonder why. If they were thinking clearly, they might have considered something positive, but having viscous oil dumped on you as you fall through fake clouds does wonders for pessimism.

So the two of them end up pacing, simultaneously trying to get rid of the liquid still dripping off their clothes. Just when they’re about to give up and throw themselves onto the beanbags, someone knocks on the door, a split second before the whole thing flies off its hinges and soars above their heads, landing so close to their heels that they can feel the heat radiating from it.

“Oh, sorry boys!” a tired voice calls, the witch appearing seconds later, twirling her wand to fix the door as if nothing had ever happened.

“Please, we-” Dan starts, but he’s cut off by his own shocked gasp.

“Is that the-?” Phil can’t even finish the question, his eyes lighting up like the moon on a summer’s day.

The witch smiles at them. “Come on, I’m not so mean as to deprive you of what’s rightfully yours, am I?”

She holds out the time-turner that had landed the boys in this mess, the time-turner that had been around her neck when she’d caught them, the time-turner that had been taken away from them by someone with frizzing brown hair…

“It was you?” Phil asks incredulously.

The witch laughs, “Well, aren’t you bright?”

Dan stiffens on behalf of Phil but the witch waves a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to be rude.”

“Anyway, I trust you with it.”

“You do?” Phil asks.

People usually don’t trust him with things. They can’t trust him because he’s too clumsy, because he’s so pale he looks like a vampire, because he listens to weird music, because he actually likes plants, the list goes on.

But this witch, the one who went to the effort of using a time turner to go back in time and steal the exact same object from him while he tries to get it back after having it taken away, is handing it right back? And that too, after having broken at least four rules of time manipulation in the process? All because she trusts Phil?

“Phil, love, breathe,” Dan murmurs softly, squeezing his hand.

The witch smiles at them and Phil uses Dan’s gentle nudge to remind his lungs that oxygen is a necessary ingredient for life. Once he’s successfully inhaling again, he coughs. “Are you being serious?”

“Absolutely. I do not joke.”

“That I can agree with,” Dan mutters under his breath, Phil stifling a laugh.

“Listen, I know what happened,” she tells them.

Dan and Phil couldn’t possibly look any more stricken, both staring at her with shocked and worried expressions as they edge towards each other again, as if looking for a solace they can only find in each other.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to punish you. I know how it feels, the need to turn time back.”

“No, we weren’t going to-”

The witch lifts up a hand, her knowing smile only widening. “I’m well aware that the two of you were simply trying to amend someone else’s mistakes. But some mistakes are better left written – not erased – trust me.”

“But-”

The witch holds up a hand, shaking her head. “No. You can’t change someone’s death.”

“You did!” Dan argues.

“Actually, I didn’t. The victim in my case never died, but your friend… it would be another mistake to return his life. Believe me.”

Phil exhales sadly, squeezing his eyes shut. Seeing the action, Dan’s small supply of optimism depletes, and he leans on Phil as he tries to wrap his mind around the fact that they can’t change anything and that everything they did was for nothing.

The witch pauses sympathetically, then smiles warmly. “Would you like a drink?”

Too upset to be impolite, the two boys nod, taking a glass each when the witch materialises them. Too upset to remember that magic can be hidden in drinks, they each take a small sip. Too upset to recognise the signs of forced fatigue, the two of them sway and fall to the floor with soft thumps before they can even identify the taste of their drink.

The witch curses, half regretting her actions, then shouts: “Ron!”

“What have you done now?” he yells back.

“Just get up here!”

Ron groans when he walks in the room to see two young wizards draped over each other on the floor, unconscious. It takes him less than a minute – and obviously the sight of their spilled drinks – to understand what had happened, and he places a comforting arm around the witch, shaking his head.

“What happened this time?”

“It wasn’t their fault actually. They just wanted to save their friend from death,” she tells him sadly.

“And you gave them your time turner?” Ron asks, seeing the golden chain wrapped around Phil’s hand.

“It’s technically his now, I stole it back before deciding they should keep it.”

“You can explain that to me another time.”

“Right.” The witch nods, shaking her head to remind herself of the most important issue at the moment. “I might have given them something to make them forget they’d ever gone there in the first place.”

“Really?” Ron sighs, but he’s not surprised, knowing that his wife is too compassionate to let them live their lives with regret nestled in their heart. After all, both of them know first-hand that regret is one of the most dangerous emotions known to man and wizard alike, as well as everyone that falls in between.

“Just, help me with them?” the witch requests.

Ron looks sceptical but the witch pouts. “Won’t you do it for me as a birthday gift, please?”

“You know I will…” Ron sighs, rolling his sleeves up.

Which is exactly why Dan and Phil wake up an hour or so later with almost identical groans, matching headaches, and weird metallic tastes in their mouths. They both look for each other as soon as they’re alert enough to remember who they are, and fingers have honestly never been interlocked so fast.

Both Ron and the witch have to stifle their laughs as the two boys scramble to their feet, and Ron quickly grabs their abandoned drinks, shuffling out of the room so they’re not confused when they properly wake themselves up.

“Are you boys okay?” the witch asks, now in a different version of the same outfit and sporting a much neater hairstyle that’s almost completely frizz free.

Phil mumbles an affirmative before realising that the golden necklace is now hanging around his neck. He gasps, his free hand flying to the trinket, and looks up with a baffled expression, a strange hope shining in his eyes.

“What happened?” Dan asks on behalf of them both.

“You, uh, had a minor run in with one of our escaped creatures while retrieving that time turner.”

“We’re sorry that we-”

“It’s alright, I’m not penalising you,” the witch assures, smiling softly.

“Thank you,” Phil breathes, his grip on Dan’s hand tightening.

“Now, I presume that your next request will be a return journey to Hogwarts, yes?”

Dan and Phil share a glance before slowly nodding, still slightly confused. Neither of them remember that they’d been mourning before they’d been caught so they have no idea why they’re covered in oil. Apparently memory potions and their effects don’t work on oil.

The witch watches as the two of them are escorted out of her office, and she watches them giggle at each other’s jokes as they walk to the main gate. She sees the way they lean into each other and barely ever look away from one another, smiling each time they bump shoulders or almost step on each other because they’re walking so close together.

She almost jumps when Ron puts his arms around her waist, his chin settling on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, you know that, right?”

“Yes, Ron, you only remind me every day.” And even though eyes are rolled in exasperation, the phrase is said with sincerity and love.

“Happy birthday, ‘Miony,” Ron whispers gently, chuckling.

“I love you too,” Hermione replies with a soft giggle.

She knows that Ron has planned a romantic dinner for the two of them because he’s truly terrible at keeping secrets, even after all these years, but it doesn’t matter. Somehow, the knowledge that others can experience the love that they share is the best birthday present she could ever have wished for.

She’s content knowing that if she and Ron have a legacy, it’s much better than a statue or a document. It’s a promise. It’s a promise that anything can happen, that anyone can be anything, and that first impressions are most definitely not last impressions. She’s content knowing that their legacy is their love and their love is their legacy.

Well, that, and knowing her time turner is in safe hands.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Actually, she might have to check that…

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

[frivoloussuits]

Scenes Aboard the U.S.S. Justice

Harvey closes situations, Donna knows everything, Jessica rules the roost, and Mike breaks all the rules. It’s all the same, but with one tiny twist-- they’re in space.

Relationships: Gen Word count: ~2.6K

Written for @suits100, prompt 40: “Outer Space!AU-- The cast of Suits as the crew on an international/intergalactic space station at the outskirts of the known universe.”

Senior Officer Harvey Specter dashes to the bridge of the U.S.S. Justice.

“About time you got here,” spits a junior officer hunched over a control panel.

“Oh, shut it, Litt, if you hadn’t botched the exit paperwork we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Excuse me? The customs board in this system is acting in bad faith, they never require a full inventory for other ships--”

“And if you were a competent quartermaster less obsessed with collecting mud samples it wouldn’t take until the day of departure to discover that we’re twenty rations short--”

“Both of you, settle down.” Captain Pearson, head of the Justice, sweeps onto the deck, and the two lower officials immediately fall silent. “Specter, this is happening because you utterly failed to show cultural sensitivity on your mission--”

“I used perfectly standard negotiation tactics!”

“That you should have known were drastically inappropriate in this solar system, so you’re going to fix this mess, and quickly. We were scheduled to make the jump to hyperspace an hour ago.”

Officer Specter glowers up at her, then snaps a switch on a nearby control panel, opening a comm link to the problematic customs officer. “Tate, you’re treating us unfairly because of the solar system where we originated, and I have to say I’m not surprised. It’s a pattern with you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about--”

“I have proof you lost General Cooper’s shipment to the Venetian-Martian Alliance’s last week. And when I say ‘lost,’ I mean ‘purposefully dumped out an airlock.’”

“You’re bluffing,” comes the response, but everyone on the bridge hears the quaver in Tate’s voice.

“Donna,” Officer Specter barks, “send File 45A90 over to Tate’s superiors at the capitol--”

“Upload commencing now,” says the android. Only those who know the Donna well can hear the definite element of snark in her otherwise obedient voice as she calls up File 45A90 and realizes it’s nothing but plans for the next all-ship fire drill.

“All right, all right!” Tate calls over the comm. “Get your ugly ship out of my system.”

“Who are you calling ugly?” Donna exclaims, but Officer Litt has already switched off the comm link and typed in the departure commands.

“30 seconds until the jump to hyperspace,” Captain Pearson says into a mic, broadcasting the declaration around the whole ship. “Head to your designated posts and strap in.”

3. 2. 1--

And they shoot into hyperspace, far above the speed of light.

Even if she didn’t know the layout of every inch of her ship, she could just follow the jazzy music wafting through the hallways.

“Officer Specter, may I come in?”

Captain Pearson hears the click of the lock, and the door to Officer Specter’s quarters slides open. The man himself is facing away from her and staring at the blue-white of hyperspace as it streaks by his window, and she doesn’t have to see his face to know there are shadows under his eyes, and maybe a tear on his cheek.

“Harvey.”

“Jessica, no.”

“You’re obviously still struggling. Bereavement leave is a perfectly legitimate reason to take time off--”

“You just made me Senior Officer because you need my help. We’re still patching holes from Hardman’s sabotage. I can’t just up and leave.”

The captain stays silent for a moment, trying to find a way to prove him wrong, but he’s not, dammit.

“A compromise, then, because you need to stop working yourself to near-death and then taking it out on local peoples and Louis,” she says. “Pick an enlisted member of our crew and make them your assistant.”

He spins around in his chair to give her a look. “If there’s any enlisted member on board who’s still willing to work with me, they don’t have enough sense for me to work with them.”

“Then take a look at some fresh candidates. We’ll be stopping by Cambridge for a couple of hours next week-- if you start reviewing applications now, you should be able to pick up someone who’s sensible and not terrified of you . . . yet.”

It’s a decent plan-- Cambridge Station is the home of Harvard Fleet Academy, the elite school where the Justice has recruited a truly disproportionate number of its crew members. Still, he can’t prevent a grimace from flickering across his face.

“I know you think you work better alone,” Captain Pearson murmurs, “but, if your only functional relationships are with me and our ship’s AI, you’re going to burn out before your time.”

It’s their second morning in hyperspace.

“Donna, I need the--”

“It’s open on your computer.”

“Oh, and also I didn’t have a chance to--”

“Your freshly brewed coffee is waiting on your desk, courtesy of one of my many lackeys.”

“Marry me?”

“I’ve got the venue picked out, just waiting for automaton marriage to be legalized.”

“Excellent,” Harvey snorts as he heads into his office and sits down to look over the list of resumes Donna’s compiled for him. He breezes through them, flicking each one off the screen after scanning it for only a few seconds, and quickly runs out of options.

“Donna--” he starts to complain.

“Harvey, don’t be unreasonable. Those were all perfectly qualified candidates.”

“I’m not looking for ‘qualified,’ I’m looking for another me.” He awaits a response, but none comes. “Donna?”

“Why don’t you put this aside for now? We’ve detected another hacking attempt from Hardman--”

“You okay?”

“Obviously! Do you really think that piece of filth could ever wound a goddess such as myself? But all the engineers will be scrambling to do damage control for the rest of the day, and they could use your oversight. I of course would never say a bad word against my primary programmer, but when it comes to group management Benjamin can be something of a . . .”

“Wuss? Pansy? Bumbling, stuttering pushover?”

“. . . I didn’t say a thing.”

Officer Specter throws himself into his new task, taking over Benjamin’s managerial role and leading the charge against Hardman’s latest attack. He doesn’t often deal directly with engineers anymore, not since his disastrous stint as an engineer working under Cameron Dennis left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, Jessica had sent him into Cameron’s clutches so that he could bring an awareness of engineering into his work as a commanding officer, and that’s exactly what he does, cleverly ordering priorities, hearing out concerns, and distributing tasks. The team finishes dealing with the hack hours ahead of schedule, thanks to his efficiency and also the surprisingly small amount of damage, and so Officer Specter sends the engineers off to a well-deserved rest.

Still, he can’t bring himself to go back to his own quarters-- they’re too quiet, too lonely, and there’s a limit to how many nights he’ll lose to chatting with Donna. For a supposedly emotionless, heartless android, she’s suspiciously successful at making him spill his deepest secrets. Instead he skulks down to the Justice’s server room, usually off-limits, and lets himself in using keycodes that technically belong only to his captain. Though he trusts his engineers, he intends to run the diagnostics again and check the ship’s systems himself, because he knows Hardman’s sly tricks better than anyone, and because he doesn’t have anything better to do.

With a hiss the doors open, letting him into the cavernous server room. The Justice is a fairly modern-looking ship, all soft blues and light woods and glass walls, but this hall looks like it’s borrowed from the next century. There are rows upon rows of pristine white servers, dotted by sparkling lights in blue and red and green. A gentle whirring hums through the air, punctuated by an occasional beep.

Officer Specter strides down the rows, looking for any clear physical irregularities before he starts in on the software, not that he expects to find any-- hackers usually aren’t careless enough to leave such obvious damage. But then he turns down a new row and finds an entire block of servers has gone dark, and there’s someone curled up on the floor in front of it.

And he’s springing forward and pinning this other intruder down and pressing the muzzle of his gun to their head. The intruder wakes up with a jolt and instinctively starts to struggle against the officer’s grip, before perceiving the cool metal against their brow and falling back against the ground, panting.

“You’re not Hardman,” Officer Specter growls.

“What-- what? Of course not!”

Without moving the gun an inch, he examines the other trespasser's features. He’s a male human, young, blond, with blue eyes and soft features currently bathed in white and jewel-colored light from still-functioning servers nearby. Definitely not Daniel Hardman, then.

“Are you one of his minions?”

“Hey, I have way better taste than that.”

“Then who are you?”

“An engineer.”

“Name your position, team, and current projects.”

“JSA-- Junior Security Architect. Infosec Team 2. My main objective is the deployment of the new Pilot Antivirus System, but I also work on testing and upkeep of core infrastructure.”

“Who in Command do you report to?”

“Officer Harvey Specter,” the intruder reels off smoothly before glancing down at the name badge of the man pinning him down. “. . . Dammit.”

Officer Specter smirks. “All right, kid. Nice try, but I happen to know every person on the teams that report to me, and JSA Sorkin you ain’t. Last chance to give me a straight answer.”

“I’m Mike Ross, born on Earth? And, uh, did you hear about the drugs bust on Atarash?”

“Oh, you have to be kidding.”

“In my defense, I’ve never been involved with the supply side in the drug business before. I think that worked in my advantage-- if the police had any sort of profile on me ahead of time, I doubt I would have been let into the spaceport.”

“The spaceport where you decided to use the U.S.S. Justice as your personal getaway car,” Officer Specter deadpans.

“Well, I figured the police would never see that particular plot twist coming, and I was right.”

“How has nobody on the ship found you yet?”

“I think because Donna likes me?”

He does a double take. “What did you just say?”

“As your ship’s managing AI she knows essentially everything, so she lets me into hiding places, warns me when people are coming, present times excepted, gives me work to do--”

“You’re a drug dealer, and apparently not even a good one,” Officer Specter scoffs. “What the hell kind of work can you do?”

Mike narrows his eyes, considering. “What if I told you I consume knowledge at a rate that makes humans, aliens and emotion-capable AIs jealous and I’ve actually passed the Earth starship service exam?”

“I’d say you’re an even worse liar than I thought.”

“You’re a senior officer, you know more than almost anybody about rules and projects and current schedules on the Justice. Ask me anything.”

“Tell me about Sarbox.”

“Sarbox is a research project commenced five years back, directed by Drs. Sarbanes and Oxley of the U.S. Department of Research. It collects data from over half a million spaceships including the Justice and uses it to verify studies by private corporations, which have famously doctored their conclusions in the past.”

“All right except for one thing-- the Justice quit the study three years back.”

“Active collection, yes, but Sarbox is still drawing on and analyzing radiation data that the Justice is gathering for SOL’s UV mapping project.”

Harvey Reginald Specter does not stoop to gaping, but he feels tempted. “How can you know all that?”

“I told you, I have an incredible memory, and Donna likes me. She’s been having me read up on the Justice, and she’s had me do odd jobs that let me get even more familiar with how things work. I’ve been helping with the Hardman attack, I identified a breach on this particular server and switched it off to contain it, probably before the official engineers even started scanning for errors.”

Harvey stares. “If you’re so competent on a ship, why didn’t you go to a training school in the first place?”

“Trevor-- the guy who set up the drug deal, you probably saw his mug shot in the coverage-- went to undergrad with me, and he convinced me to sell answers to a multivariate calc test. Turns out we sold it to the dean’s daughter.” Mike sighs. “I lost my scholarship, I got kicked out of school, and I have been wishing for a way back ever since.”

Officer Specter rocks back, finally pulling away his gun, and calls up to the ceiling, “Donna, would you like to explain yourself?”

The answer comes back, “You said you weren’t looking for ‘qualified.’”

He stares at the speaker above him for a full twenty seconds before bursting into laughter. “Mike Ross, I do believe this was your job interview.”

“Wait, what?”

“I need an assistant. Technically, I need an assistant who trained at Harvard Fleet Academy to become a commander and preferably graduated with honors.”

“. . . That’s not me.”

“If I call a certain astrobiologist over at the Cambridge station, it could be. She owes me an awful lot of favors.”

“. . . And that’s forgery and fraud.”

“You’re a genius, I’m seeing it now.” Officer Specter rolls his eyes.

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with forgery and fraud, I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“My eyes are wide open, Mike.”

“So . . . Donna arranged this whole thing,” Mike says with wonder, then frowns. “Including the part where you nearly shot me.”

“I hacked his gun first,” the android cuts in entirely too merrily. “If he pulled the trigger, it’d switch into shock mode, backfire and just knock him out instead.”

Officer Specter glares, but he can’t stop the smile twitching at the ends of his lips.

“So, Mike, will you take the job?” she continues.

“Yes!” Then he looks at Harvey, slightly embarrassed, and amends, “If you’ll have me.”

Harvey at last pushes himself off Mike’s lap and stows his gun. “Yeah, I will. Once we get to Cambridge Station, you’re hired, and in the meantime keep sneaking around and doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

He reaches out a hand and pulls Mike up as well. “Hey, you wouldn’t by any chance be the person who ate twenty meals’ worth of rations without permission, would you?”

“Um, yes?”

“You nearly got Officer Litt fired.”

“Oh, God,” he exclaims. “Donna said it wouldn’t be a problem . . .”

“It wasn’t. Keep up the good work,” Harvey says with a smirk before heading back down the row and completing his check of the servers. If he swings by the spot where Mike is sitting more times than strictly necessary, well, that’s between him and the Donna.

He returns to his quarters exhausted that night, but as he surveys the blue of hyperspace streaming past his window he smiles, for the first time in months.