#Ooc: hope I did the French level thing right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mymegumi · 4 years ago

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canis lupus familiaris

pairing: bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 3.0k

warnings: meet-cute, dog walker!bokuto, maybe ooc!bokuto + swearing/maybe

note: if this piece seems familiar, it’s because it was the last thing i posted on my old account (@/zumisace) before i deactivated it! i loved it and really wanted it out there hehe. i’m gonna be posting some old works that i really enjoyed mwah. help reading this again the dialogue is so blegh

Labrador Retriever

The first day you notice him, he’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts, black leggings extending past his knee to the middle of his shin as he stretches. There’s a bright orange leash that’s looped around his hand as he crosses an arm over his broad chest, a happily panting yellow labrador on the other end.

He is single handedly the most beautiful man you think you’ve ever seen, and you have to be careful you’re not drooling when you steal glances at him.

You’re lucky you even saw him, because you never go through the park near Main Street. It’s too crowded, and there are too many men that try and assert their dominance over you—overall you avoid walking this direction towards your favorite bookstore every weekend.

You’d only done it this weekend because there was some sort of construction going on West Street, but you have to sit down at a park bench momentarily just to gape at the handsome man jogging around the park with a dog at his side.

His hair spikes up in discolored disarray, but what might seem messy and uncoordinated on a lesser man, seems attractive on this one. He’s got a wide chest, shoulders broad that fills out his dry-fit shirt as he does some more stretching, and watching him while he does so makes you feel almost like a pervert, really.

You’d taken a quick detour in the park just to sit and watch him, book in hands forgotten as he crouched down, hands rubbing underneath the dog’s jaw with a loving touch. The smile on the man’s lips are wide, and you’re almost positive you’ve seen the smile before but you’re not really sure where.

When he looks up, your eyes catch with his and the smile he sends your way is blinding. You have to hold the book in front of your face just to hide the embarrassment clearly written across your face, but when you peek out a moment later, he seems none the wiser to your blunder.

You’re not usually one to base your attraction to other people solely on looks alone, but there’s something about this guy that tugs at your heartstrings. He’s good with dogs, too, and men that are good with animals are always a plus because they’re good judges of character.

“Hey, how are you?”

You look up to see the dog walker smiling brightly at you, a yellow labrador sitting at his side with a smile that almost matches his. Setting the book aside, you match his greeting. “Hi, I’m doing good, how are you?”

“Ah, I’m okay.” His hand rests on the dog’s head, who whines when he removes it to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m Bokuto, I just saw you looking at Rusty here and thought maybe you were too shy to say something.”

Well, at least your cover wasn’t blown just yet. You introduce yourself quickly while you reach a hand out to run along Rusty’s jaw, heart swelling when the dog seems to lean into your touch. “You caught me. I love dogs, is he yours?”

“Naw,” Bokuto crouches down now, just below your eye level as he rubs Rusty’s chest with a heavy hand, “I walk dogs when I’m not busy with practice, because it’s good exercise and I can get some pet time in without having to make the commitment of a dog, yet.”

“Yet? Do you plan on getting one at all?” Looking up at him, you tilt your head to the side as he shrugs.

“I’m not really sure yet.” Bokuto looks off into the distance as Rusty gets closer to you, nudging your legs apart with a wet nose to rest his head on your lap. “I travel a lot for work, so I’m not sure getting a dog would be smart.”

You hum thoughtfully. Bokuto seemed like a different type of person, from farther away. You hate to make assumptions about people without really getting to know them first, but he really seems like he dives into things head first without thinking things through. It’s nice to know that he cares for the potential dog he might get in the future enough, though.

“I’d get a pet, but I’m not really sure what I would want,” you start as you look back up at him, “I’m not even sure I’m a pet person, to be honest.”

“Everyone’s a pet person as long as you love them enough,” Bokuto encourages you with his hands outstretching, orange leash dangling from his hand making Rusty pick up his head briefly, “I hate to cut this short, cause it was really nice meeting you, but Rusty’s owner here is gonna pick him up in a little bit, and I gotta run him back to his house.”

“Oh, totally fine, I’d hate to keep you here.” You wave as he begins to jog off, taking a semi-willing Rusty with him. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah! I’m here every week walking dogs, so maybe I’ll see ya?”

As his figure retreats into the distance, you can practically feel your heartbeat in your chest. Pressing a hand to your chest, you think it might calm the racing beat as you bite your lip, smile shy as you think about the exchange you’d just had.

Bokuto was a weird guy, is the first thing you think of. Normally, people don’t come up to others in a park just because he’d managed to catch you staring. If he caught you staring at him, you appreciate the fact that he saved you the embarrassment and gave you the dog as an excuse. He seems nice enough, and you’re sure that in another world, maybe you’d regret letting the conversation flow as well as it had, but in this one, you liked talking to him like that.

Maybe you would be back next week, construction on West Street be damned.

French Bulldog

You were absolutely pathetic.

Never in your some odd years of living did you ever think that you’d be the type of person to exercise just because you wanted to see a guy again.

A very tall, adorable, muscular guy that handled dogs well and came up to you with a smile brighter than the sun, but a guy, nonetheless.

Dressed in a set of workout clothes that had practically been collecting dust in your drawers, you were stretching very awkwardly at the park, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. You weren’t someone that worked out often, and you prayed to whatever upper being was out there that no one looked at you weird.

You’d been pacing around the front of your apartment for a good twenty minutes before you decided to jog to the park, trying to keep a slower pace than normal because you didn’t want to be huffing and wheezing when you got to the park.

When you got there, you spotted Bokuto almost immediately. He was surrounded by a small crowd of people, looking embarrassed as they seemed to be asking for his autograph. A thinner, royal blue leash was wrapped around his hand as he waved and posed with some people for pictures.

Was he famous or something? You weren’t exactly sure, but he did have a familiar sort of face. You’d thought you’d seen him before the first day you had seen him, so maybe you’d seen him on your explore feed on Instagram or something.

You weren’t going to intrude on the festivities, content to just continue stretching and maybe actually exercise, but when Bokuto caught your eye, he waved at you with a hand over his head, movements large and noticeable.

“Sorry, I have to go, but thanks for supporting me!” was the part of the conversation that you had caught as you watched him jog towards you, a small white and brown French Bulldog happily trailing after him.

“Hey,” you’re tying your shoe now, crouched on the ground and you hold out a hand for the small dog to smell, “Funny running into you again, stranger.”

“Nice to see you again, you really saved me.” There’s relief in his voice as he holds his hands on his hips, chest heaving gently as he smiles at you. “Y’know, I love my fans, and they’re usually really respectful, but I guess someone caught wind that I started walking dogs and a whole crew of people were here when I got here with Porco today.”

You really hope Porco is the name of the dog.

“Your fans?” You straighten yourself off of the ground and give him a raised eyebrow. “Are you a model or something? I wouldn’t be surprised, you have the looks for one.”

The words leave your mouth before you can really think, and maybe it’s worth not having a filter for that brief moment to see the rosy red blush spread across the bridge of his nose and across the planes of his cheeks. If you look close, you’re pretty sure you can see it start to creep up his neck and on the tips of his ears.

“I’m not–! I’m not a model.” His words are quick as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m a volleyball player, I play for the MSBY Black Jackals!”

“Oh, I’m not really into sports all that much.” You shrug lightly as you feel a weight on your foot, looking down to see Porco resting his butt on your sneaker. “I’m surprised I’m just now finding out you’re, like, famous, though.”

“I thought you knew I was a volleyball player, honestly.” Bokuto looks a little sheepish as he says it. “Usually, people recognize me right away so I just talked about it like you knew.”

“It’s fine! Don’t worry too much, I didn’t even notice.”

Porco makes a strange noise, something between breathing in too hard and sneezing, and it honestly stops your heart for a good minute. Looking at Bokuto, you’re concerned but it soothes off of you when he leans down and just pats the dog’s back lightly. “Sorry, French Bulldogs actually have really bad nasal issues, so Porco tends to do this when his nose gets too dry.”

“Y’know, you sure know a lot about different types of dogs for a guy that doesn’t want one,” you remark as you crouch down with Bokuto to scratch under Porco’s chin lightly.

Bokuto’s laugh is something akin to an angel’s and you want to make him laugh for the rest of his life. “I really wanted a dog when I was a kid, but my mom thought I was too irresponsible, so I did a month long project where I just researched about different dogs.”

“Guess it stuck with you, huh?” He nods, and you’re not sure if he does it on purpose but his shoulder bumps yours gently. “Did your mom end up getting you a dog?”

“No! My sister got a hamster and my mom was worried a big dog, like I wanted, would terrorize it.” his tone isn’t accusatory or spiteful, just reminiscing on the past as he continues to stare at the small dog before him. “It was probably for the better, cause I think I would’ve been heartbroken if the dog died before I was able to make it to the professional leagues.”

Talking to Bokuto is one of the easiest things you think you’ve ever done.

The two of you end up walking around the park when Porco calms down after a while, and the conversation flows as smooth as a river. Whenever there might be a moment of awkward silence, he manages to fill it effortlessly by mentioning something, or even just talking about his experiences as a volleyball player.

Honestly, even the moments of silence aren’t even all that awkward. There’s something soothing about the sounds of both of your feet hitting the pavement and the birds chirping that makes the entire experience one of the better ones you’ve had.

So, when he asks for your number, you give it to him without a second thought.

German Shepherd

Bokuto really likes texting people at odd hours of the day, you’ve learned.

Sometimes you’ll wake up to a text on your phone from the man that he sent at about one in the morning, often asking you something that he had just thought of and can’t bother anyone else with. When you wake up, you typically try and answer his question to the best of your ability, and if you can’t figure it out, the two of you brainstorm the next weekend at the park to see what the answer could possibly be.

The pair of you have slipped into such a routine that seems so domestic it makes your heart clench whenever you have to remind yourself you’re just friends.

Today, at the park, Bokuto has a dog that you’ve seen before. A friendly German Shepherd named Ace that loved to slobber on your hands if you scratched underneath his chin for long enough.

A bright green leash is looped around his hand as he does his triangle stretches, Ace sitting between his feet acting well mannered. Bokuto waves at you as you walk over, tucking your phone away as you greet them both.

“Any clue where in the park we want to go today?”

“You think you’d get bored of the park after a while,” you say off handedly, watching as Ace’s ears perk up at the sight of two squirrels chasing after each other.

When Bokuto doesn’t say anything for a good minute or two, you turn to look at him. “Well, honestly? I was gonna stop coming to this park a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” This is the first you’ve heard of it, and you’re sure your surprise is drawn on your face if the way Bokuto reacts is any indication. “Why’d you end up staying?”

He coughs into his hand, and you’re sure he’s tugging his jacket’s collar up to hide the red dancing across his cheeks right now. “...You.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. You stop walking for a minute, coming to a full stop in the middle of the walking path as you process what he says to you. “You were gonna stop coming to this park… until you met me?”

His hair shakes a little bit when he nods, and he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. I had that Labrador for some guy, and I was gonna go to a different park cause he seemed like, bummed at this one, but I saw you sitting at one of the benches.”

“I started talking to you, and then I just had to see you again, so I came back the next week, too.” He looks up at you with a sense of alarm in his eyes. “That’s not weird, is it?”

“It’s not weird, Bokuto,” you reassure, stepping closer to him and hitting your shoulder against his easily, “I might have done the same thing. I usually go near the park on West Street.”

His smile is radiant, and you think that you’d love to see that smile every day of your life if he’d let you. There’s something about it that makes a small part of your heart swell, the feeling that you’re the one making him smile like that rears its head over the part of you that knows you aren’t with him.

That could always change, though, you think as Bokuto tugs on your arm as Ace rushes ahead of the two of you, eyes set on a squirrel running up a tree somewhere. His laughter is contagious as you’re pulled along by the dog, and you know that Bokuto could stop him from running, but maybe he enjoys the way the wind runs over him like you are.

Bokuto insists that you wait for him to drop off Ace at his owner’s house, telling you that you have to come with him or wait for him at your apartment. You love Ace, but you’re not too keen on meeting his owner at the moment, so you’re sitting on the steps of your apartment, changed out of your athletic wear in something more fitting for your day to day.

He comes back to you, jogging lightly as he waves at you from down the street. His outfit is the same as earlier, just a pair of black shorts with a navy blue hoodie, and yet you’re sure he’s even handsomer than you’d just seen him before.

“Ready?”

You make a noise of agreement as the two of you set off, yet you’re still not sure where you’re going, instead just following after him without questioning anything. If you were more paranoid, you’d think this would be the perfect time for him to just kill you.

“So, no questions on where we’re going?” God, he always knows when to get you out of your thoughts.

“I just thought you were taking me to a dark alleyway to kill me,” you give him a smile as he makes an incredulous face, surely offended that you even thought that of him.

“No, I was just, uh,” he coughs into his hand, and you’re sure his cheeks are red again without even having to look, “hoping to take you on our first date.”

Smiling at the floor with a grin that doesn’t seem to fade, you clear your throat, “Walking the dogs doesn’t count as a date?”

“Ah, you’re right,” he concedes, dipping his head in a fleet apology, “our first date without any dogs.”

“Unfortunately,” you start, hand outstretching and seeking his, “I was only talking to you for the dogs.”

He laughs, hand intertwining with yours and tugging you closer. “Of course, the dogs were the only selling point I had, right?”

“Absolutely,” you nod in agreement, “I definitely didn’t want to go out with you, just wanted to see the dogs.”

The two of you are laughing and joking like you always do when you go into the small little diner, where you end up having your first date, without any dogs.

#hanimehub #hqcorenet #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou x y/n #hq!! bokuto #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! bokuto #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto fluff #grind for the wealth

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windstormwielding · 4 years ago

Note

How did you come up with Kotaro's zanpakuto? (i really love the bird theme of his attacks!) did you go through a lot of changes when coming up with names, abilities, and the general concept?

{ ooc } bUCKLE UP KIDDOS ‘CAUSE IT’S TIME FOR SOME LONG OVERDUE GODDAMNED KŌTA META-

Kōta’s zanpakutō was essentially conceived out of my own love for great big storms and heavy winds – and yes, I have a story to go with that! On one occasion many years ago, I hopped on a bus to visit a friend in town, but I was ill-prepared in that it was about to rain heavily and I had jack shit but a jacket. No raincoat and not even an umbrella. I thought I would make it there on time, buuuuut evidently, I did not. It already started raining and thundering hard by the time I walked out of the bus and had to walk a few blocks by myself.

And honestly, Plouton, looking back? I would not have changed a single little detail that day. Those several minutes I spent outside at the mercy of a live thunderstorm left such a huge impression on me! The incessant rain keeping me tethered to the ground, the sheer volume of deafening thunder cracking so hard and so loudly that the air around me quaked... pair that with times I’ve enjoyed feeling myself at the mercy of heavy winds, or even the smell of the outside after rain falls...

...pretty much all of that served as the biggest source of inspiration behind the wind and storm-oriented zanpakutō, and I wanted Kōta to embody that himself.

Besides, aside from Senna herself in Memories of Nobody, the Gotei 13 lacked a dedicated air-manipulating shinigami barring Kensei’s unique take on the topic with Tachikaze, and we’ve only seen antagonists use this power (Dordoni of the Arrancar within the main story, Kariya if you want to go filler with the Bounts... whom I’ve honestly forgotten about prior to creating Kōta WHOOPS) in the traditional sense. Not to mention, air as an element is SUPER malleable and there’s so much you can do with it if you get creative?? So, given we’ve got some real powerful element-leaning shinigami already with water (lbr Kaien would’ve been a beast had he not been nixed), fire (Yama), snow (Tosh), and electricity (Sasakibe), why not keep adding to the idea?

With that, we’ve got the main concept locked down. Powers and general theme? Check. Bird-like zanpakutō spirit? Check. Defined attacks? ...noooooot quite there yet—in fact, those were a fairly late addition well after the blog reboot. As for what led to it, this never took off since the other mun blipped on an indefinite hiatus, but our thread would have likely turned into a fight thread between our muses and uh...

...yeah, I realized named techniques are kind of an important thing to have, especially when writing within the context of an action-oriented series like Bleach. It wasn’t just about the cool factor, but having a readily available kit for reference (for myself, my writing partners, and folks reading in) was a must, not to mention it helped better define just what his main friggin’ weapon is capable of like those of most of the existing cast. In case a fight thread does come around in the future, it’d be an ideal thing to have ready to go and bring him further up to par with other fighters!

Just like that, I subjected myself to extra homework. Coming up with the moves themselves came to me simply enough, in seeing how air was played with in other media I was familiar with (key ones being Sonic the Hedgehog, The Legend of Zelda, and Avatar: The Last Airbender) and fashioning some of my own spins on top of some original ideas. I knew I wanted to lean hard on the bird motif since his zan spirit is a tengu, and given the wide variety of things the element of air/wind can do, I thought to make full connections between the two by theming each special move after certain species of bird! Creating those moves and naming them were the easy parts.

Naming them, that is, in English. Naming them all in Japanese was, by far, the hardest part. Why? Parce que je ne suis pas japonais, et aussi parce que je ne parle pas la langue, you see. On top of language barriers, the Japanese tongue operates on a whole other set of rules, compared to the Latin/Germanic-based ones I’ve grown used to with English, French, and (at one point) German. I did take some Japanese classes as an elective back in university, but that was only in first year – my own understanding, as a result, was threadbare and surface level at best, so that was not going to get me anywhere. I did not want to half-ass it with romaji and I love Bleach too much to not want to do these ideas justice.

I am a stickler when it comes to detail and canon-compliance, so getting the naming right by abiding to the proper conventions as best as I possibly could became my topmost priority. Google Translate was not going to fly because lord knows it’s no good without proper context between wholly different languages in English and Japanese, and it only gets wilder once you throw Chinese into the mix, given I’m supposed to use kanji. Thus, the name of the game here turned out to be “reverse engineering,” and I had to go in accepting I probably wasn’t going to get it 100% right the first time.

“What rules do zanpakutō names and special attack names follow?” “How do I apply on- or kun-reading in spelling out a group of certain kanji?” “Where are the common denominators in those rules that I can identify?” “Which language conventions have I already picked up from watching god knows how much anime over the years that I can replicate?” “Which set of words best conveys this particular English word that has no direct Japanese translation?” “How does [x] roll off the tongue? Does it sound right and fluid enough, or does it still feel super stilted and weird?” It was a loooooooot of this until I was finally satisfied with each individual end result!

Tl;dr: Jisho.org and Wikipedia were godsends during this whole process. I also want to thank @tigrextoque who gave me some helpful pointers after the fact!

ALSO... the ones on the Battle Info page aren’t even all of the ones I’ve thought about. Because I’m a glutton for punishment apparently, I purposely went and submitted a request for a certain ask meme on an ask meme source blog, JUST so I could play around with more ideas that came or would come to mind. This time, however, it was through the form of COMBINATION ATTACKS (which, by virtue alone, are honestly peak awesomeness). Those that implicated other shinigami got new bird motifs to meld the aesthetics of both muses, while I did get a couple of Quincy ones (with their referenced attacks actually using romaji as a base! Whoo-hoo for saving me the effort!) as a bonus to mix things up!

I’ll link them all right here (and later on the Battle Info page) for your convenience:

Noboru no mai, Shiro Fukurō (騰の舞・白梟, Rising Dance, Snowy Owl), with Rukia Kuchiki

Ahōdori Kyōka: Flying Battery (群烏強化: フライングバッテリー, Albatross Strengthening: Flying Battery) with Bambietta Basterbine

Muragarasu Kyōka: Galvano Volley (群烏強化: ガルヴァノボレー, Flock of Crows Strengthening: Galvano Volley), plus upgraded variant Muragarasu Kyōka: Galvano Storm (群烏強化: ガルヴァノストーム, Flock of Crows Strengthening: Galvano Storm), with Candice Catnipp

Hagetaka Rinbu (禿鷹輪舞, Vulture Round Dance) with Rangiku Matsumoto

Senkō-fū: Kitsutsuki (穿孔風: 啄木鳥, Drilling Wind: Woodpecker) with Nemu Kurotsuchi

Gyaku-fū Fūsa: Benizuru (逆風封鎖: 紅鶴, Headwind Blockade: Flamingo) with Byakuya Kuchiki

Hikuidori Hinshō (火食鳥頻傷, Cassowary Frequent Cuts) with Ueno Chie

Yes, “Flying Battery” was a deliberately written Sonic the Hedgehog reference. No, I will never apologize for that.

...might I reblog that meme again in the future though...?

...probably not right away.

So, uh... Plou, I should probably apologize for giving you a lot more than you likely bargained for, but hey, I just didn’t want to leave any stone unturned! Thank you so much for sending me your three questions, I enjoyed writing these little deep dives into my Bleach OC, and thanks for taking interest in Kōta! I hope all of my responses have been both enlightening and to your satisfaction.

#deivorous #{ i’m falling free in the wind ☁ headcanon ☁ }#{ cut for length }#{ whispers in the wind ☁ replies ☁ }#{ beyond the sky ☁ ooc ☁ }#{ ooc: we hope to return to our regular programming tomorrow-! }#{ i just could not focus much until i answered all of these hahahaha- }

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Egg Meeting 3/14/2021

Alastor visits Valera on Okkylk to “meet” an egg! An egg which hasn’t been laid yet, but like, it buzzes in magic static that Radio Demons can detect, so it’s still an interesting thing to meet if you’re an Alastor.

Alastor and Valera spend way too much time talking about the weird magical interdimensional tricks that Valera’s species can do because at one point Valera went “Alastor mentioned some of his occult experiences and I have decided I will be polite and NOT ask him about them” while Alastor went “Valera mentioned some of their occult experiences and they’re absolutely fascinating so I’m going to crack open my little grimoire and ASK A HUNDRED QUESTIONS and TAKE LOTS OF NOTES.”

He also somehow finagles himself into maybe being a fake-uncle, making the short list for a hypothetical godparent position, and definitely being the official Nightmare PTA Representative at any future school functions.

They also ended up following up on this conversation and it was awful and nobody enjoyed it.

(Starts as semi-OOC chatter and then segues into fully IC)

Alastor

SHOW HIM HIS FUTURE FAUX-NIBLING

Valera

He can meet Eelizzy the spectacular staticy egg

dazzler of, as of now, 100% of the people who've met this literal fetus in an egg in someone's goddamn stomach

Alastor

It’s definitely a lot louder than he generally expects eggs to be. Not, like, *audibly* loud. But still loud.

Valera

it is the sensation of like. those old tvs. the kind of fuzzy when you run your hands in the air right over the glass

Alastor

That’s a good stim

Valera

It's a GOOD STIM and now Val has just accepted that people are going to want to skim their hands over her stomach every time Egg goes brrrr

Alastor

He only does it for a couple of seconds before he’s like what the *fuck* am I doing that is somebody’s belly and stops himself and apologizes, how very rude of him

(But once the egg is laid all bets are off)

Valera

That egg is gonna get so much touching.

Alastor

Everyone with their hands over this egg like it’s the dead of winter and the egg is the only fireplace for miles

Valera

If eelizzy didn't want that she should have thought about it before she decided to be a stim

Egg buzzes rhythmically to music, and the lil beanie baby of A Child inside will kinda wiggle to the beat, which right now Val feels as a vague shifting of weight.

This thing has been exposed to music since it was conceived, it's too late for her

Alastor

Alastor will absolutely play some music for this egg to hear it buzz along

He’s like “You know my mother told me that when she was carrying me, a ghost would come to her and sing for me! She stopped hearing him when I was born. I don’t think I buzzed, though.” And then goes back to playing music like this is a totally normal fact to share out of the blue.

Valera

That's a very normal and not at all weird thing to tell someone. Yep. Fun little factoid to share with a friend.

Val just has to accept this as a new thing they know!!! "Well, hopefully I won't stop hearing you when Elizzy is born! I'm not too bad at charades, but it *would* complicate things."

Alastor

“Well, you could hear me just fine before then, so it’s probably fine!

Valera

Alastor sure had a WEIRD LIFE and Val is NOT SURE what to make of the snippets they heard. Humans aren't usually so Aware

Alastor

:) a special boy

Valera

On one hand, they almost want to *congratulate* him, on the other, did he get robbed of a normal childhood??? Should they offer condolences??? Help.

Alastor

:) :)

Valera

It worked out for him at least but at what cost....

Val doesn't actually know anything about his home life growing up! Like did he have a dad in the picture? Match and Leal didn't, but This guy has Surprised Her Before

Alastor

:) :) :)

Does Val ask or just Wonder?

Valera

They're still anxious about Alastor getting the wrong idea from them asking questions so they would Not ask.

They kept scwunching at the rehearsal because Leal was sitting with their main body patting them and singing in french to Soothe Their Dumb Ass

Alastor

So he just shares a weird-ass anecdote and then they marinate in the moment. Delightfully awkward

Valera

YEP

A little quip and then several seconds of dead air while Val goes on a face journey.

valera, wildly overthinking the second she doesn't have someone literally or figuratively holding her hand through a Social Interaction With Someone She Is Unsure Of Boundaries With

alastor: I was a haunted baby.

val: ..................... cool

Alastor

Alastor: and now I’m haunting YOUR baby! Haha isn’t that fun

Valera

Valera: A proud and noble tradition of baby haunting. Can't wait to see who she decides to haunt later in life.

Alastor

Alastor: ......... Do Veci have ghosts when they die?

He doesn’t know how Veci work, just that afterlives are something that happens to other people

Valera

Val: Nope, when we die for good our gods destroy our souls and recycle them. Unless you're an Autocrat, then you're turned into one of their little puppets used to enact their divine will and guide the next Autocrat. She'll have to find a mortal soul to haunt as a spirit.

Veci who die get put into the soul blender to get recycled for fresh soul meat

Alastor

Alastor: Pity. Environmentally friendly, I suppose.

Alastor: We just get thrown in the landfill and once a year a bunch of us get scooped into the trash compactor.

Valera

val: It's efficient! Kinda gross though, being made of the ground meat of souls. At least I get to look forward to a continued existence as some fucked up angel analog when someone makes me bite it someday. Wonder if I'll still recognize my kids?

Pat pat belly.

Alastor

Alastor: Can you ask your puppet predecessor?

Valera

val: I could try! He did have a daughter who's still alive, maybe if I made him manifest around her I'd get a reaction.

Alastor

Alastor: For her sake, I hope he does! Can’t imagine how awful it’d be if he didn’t! Although I don’t know how close you folks are to your ancestors. Even on Earth it varies.

Valera

val: Oh, very close! There are rooms in the Reppetto Compound still left exactly as the old owners left them when they died *hundreds* of years ago. There's never been a reason to clear them out, so we don't. I visit them occasionally, pay my respects. That's just the Veci though, I think the other species are much more practical.

Alastor

Alastor: ... And yet most of your ancestors get... “recycled.” They’re no longer around to visit the rooms left for them. That *is* a pity.

Alastor: Do Veci ever recognize shreds of their loved ones in their reincarnations?

Valera

val: Yes! It isn't unheard of for lovers to find each other again through old fragments, or a son to find that his child tugs at his soul to remind him of a dearly departed mother. Plenty of people recognize parts of me, some more strongly than others. Shreds tend to find their way back to their families. Sons, daughters, if you've experienced a loss you may find some glimmer of that person again in a generation or two.

Alastor

Alastor: Hm. Not quite gone forever, then. That’s good—the alternative is just too depressing, isn’t it!

Valera

val: Indeed! Full on reincarnation has even happened a few times, though the odds are, obviously, *incredibly* slim. We did have one guy though, who got reincarnated *three times in a row*. He's still alive, I've met him. Absolutely off the shits, never met someone less sane.

Alastor

Alastor: Hah! Is madness a prerequisite or side-effect to full blown reincarnation?

Valera

val: A side effect, I imagine! That would probably mean remembering getting your essence shredded and then falling back together. He likes to say he's "all there but the mind". What about you though? Was your culture close to your ancestors?

Alastor

Alastor: One side closer than the other. Some humans reincarnate, I’m given to understand, but where I’m from once you’re ejected from your body you tend not to get a replacement. Some stick around, most move on to one afterlife or another—and at that point you mainly reach them through long-distance calls, spiritually speaking. They’re still *there,* but... not on the same *level* that we are.

Alastor: It’s a trade off, I suppose—no reincarnation means no way to see them in the flesh again, but on the other hand they’re always *themselves*—they never become somebody different.

Valera

val: That.. Is very alien, to me. But I don't dislike the concept. Preserved in time, an individual forever, able to be reached but not touched. I guess, for us, since we live such a long time... We get a lot of time with people. By the time they leave us, they've usually said all they'd ever want to. If they pop up again it's just a nice surprise.

Alastor

Alastor: We seem to only get enough time to figure out what we're doing and pass on a fraction of our tricks to the next generation or two, and then we're gone and our descendants have to bumble around just like we did! Maybe we need ghosts more.

Valera

val: Sounds like you need more haunted babies to me, Alastor.

Alastor

Alastor: Why, are there any others around for me to haunt?

Alastor: anyway, I wouldn't make a very good ancestor, considering my distinct lack of descendants.

Valera

val: Just pick a baby and declare yourself part of their life! Step-Ancestor them before they can blink!

val: In all seriousness, Leal's already conceded the title of uncle to you despite you not even asking for it, I think you can figure something out.

Alastor

Alastor: I— Has he?

Alastor: Well—I was about to get all presumptuous and commandeer it myself, but—er. Good. Thank you. Him.

Valera

Val: He has indeed. As he puts it, you were here first, and you're Penny's best friend so *obviously* the role of honorary uncle should be yours. If sinners did godparents, I'm sure he'd ask you to be hers. Or I assume as much!

Alastor

Alastor: ... oh. Well. I'd hoped, actually...

Awkward shuffle.

Alastor: ... I mean, a child can have more than one uncle.

Valera

val: What had you hoped, Alastor? I won't laugh or anything, I just need you to be clear with me.

Alastor

Alastor: ... to be that.

Valera

val: What, to be an uncle? Or a godparent?

Alastor

Alastor: I'm not picky about the term. Someone close enough to matter. Uncle, probably, I suppose. I don't know what a damned sinner would do as a godparent—but I wouldn't turn it down.

Valera

A thoughtful look.

val: I'd love to have you be an important part of my child's life, Alastor. Though, from what I *understand* of modern human customs, a non-religious godparent usually just means that if the parents die, the godparent steps in to either raise the kid or find them a home that would raise them the way the parents would want. Largely symbolic, but important nonetheless.

Alastor

Alastor: It's hard to be non-religious within a religious afterlife. But—just for the record, if anything happened to you two and you *didn't* have a plan in place, I'd probably be charging in to do that myself anyway. I'm not about to leave that child in the hands of somebody who's going to be halfhearted about it.

Valera

Val: Well there you go! Already ready to do your job, and you haven't even been handed the paperwork or negotiated a salary.

Alastor

Alastor: IS there paperwork?

He's giving a Skeptical Look

Valera

Val: What, you think they'd hand over an orphan child to any guy who showed up claiming to be a family friend? They like seeing some documents saying "if I die this guy is who I want protecting my kids while they're vulnerable".

Alastor

Alastor: ... All right, fair enough! I was just going to kidnap her and flee into the night, but I suppose a paper or two would keep law enforcement off my back.

Valera

Val: I'm flattered that you'd get in trouble with the interdimensional magic fish police for Eelizzy's sake, but let's spare everyone the hassle. I'll talk to Penny, see if he wants to do the godparents thing at all, but I know what name I'd be floating.

Alastor

Alastor: Well—that's fine, then. Thank you. It's an honor to be considered either way.

He's all self-conscious now, look at this awkward man

Valera

Val: Of course! And at the VERY least I want you to be close to her when she hatches. Good old _Uncle Alastor_ to spoil her when Penny and I are busy.

Look what happens when you actually tell Valera what you want. Blurses. Blessings and curses.

Alastor

Look at him he's got heart eyes

Alastor: Fortunately, I'm an expert at spoiling other people's children! Don't you worry, I'll be loading her up with penny candy and letting her get in all the trouble she wants. Maybe even nickel candy if I'm feeling generous.

Valera

Val: How generous! And speaking of candy, that reminds me. I visited New Orleans recently on business and picked up a few treats while I was there. Do you want some roman candy? I know you don't have a sweet tooth, but it seems like something one should offer regardless.

Alastor

Alastor: ... They're still making that? Is it the real deal or did the family sell the franchise to some big candy company?

Valera

Val: I bought it from the same old wagon as always, so I believe it's authentic! Wax paper and all!

Alastor

Alastor: Well... sure, I'll have some. Doubt I have the right teeth for taffy anymore, but...

Valera

Val: You'll muddle through somehow, I'm sure. What flavor does it for you, chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?

She will whip out a few familiar looking wax paper rolled tubes to offer him. Crinkly!

Alastor

Takes a strawberry one!!

Valera

Val: I'll be sure to let you be the first one to take her to buy this _particular_ candy, when she's old enough to actually enjoy taffy.

Alastor

Give him a second, he managed to bite off a bit and now he's doing the whole dog-with-peanut-butter routine

Valera

Oh no, that's funny. She is LOOKING and SNICKERING at this man. Who knew the secret to silencing the radio demon was _chewy food?_

Alastor

Alastor: ... You know I don't remember this stuff being so hazardous.

He was expecting a RUSH OF NOSTALGIA but then he was like oh right I didn't eat this stuff more than like twice when I was alive, I just saw at the cart.

Valera

The wax paper is more nostalgic than the candy, understandable.

Val: Not having good molars does that, I only ate the stuff the one time to experience it. I like the paper though, it's a very unique experience.

Alastor

HOLD ON LET HIM GET THE LAST OF IT OUT OF HIS MOUTH, he thinks he'll attempt to eat the rest later.

Alastor: We'll see when she's old enough to attempt to eat these things, but—I don't see much point in holding off on letting her try taffy just for ME to do the honors. Seems like a very little thing to make a whole trip for.

Valera

Val: Okkylk doesn't really have much in the way of taffy, I doubt it would come up.. and it would be funny to see her suddenly be faced with a chewy candy to struggle against. This is _guaranteed_ entrainment.

Alastor

Alastor: Hah! I like your parenting philosophy. All the same—no need to wait on me to go get the taffy. I'm sure you'll have more opportunities to pick some up than I will.

Valera

Val: Nothing wrong with a little light torment, she gets candy out of it! Builds character! But yes yes, I get the picture. We'll see how it shakes out, play it by ear.

Alastor

Alastor: As long as she's being duly compensated for providing entertainment! :)

Valera

Val: Of course! She's still my _daughter_, if anything actually upset her that would be a whole different story. Penny would be _inconsolable._

She would also be inconsolable but let's ignore the wibbly sad eyes Val gets at the very thought

Alastor

Alastor: I'm sure we'd be taking turns supporting him through the grief. One person alone wouldn't be able to support that weight.

He's got no doubt Valera would be duly distressed but somehow, somehow he feels like Sir Pentious would be more dramatic about it. Just a hunch.

Valera

There is a distinct possibility that one of the parents may be A HAIR more dramatic, and it MIGHT not be the one with a degree in musical theater. Possibly.

Val: It's true, he's pretty heavy. Like a weighted blanket of emotion.

Alastor

HUFF.

Alastor: I’m going to be thinking of that the next time he flops on top of me.

Valera

Val: Good, you can share my curse. Every Pentious is full of emotion, genius, and, honestly, horny.

Alastor

Opens mouth. Shuts it. Opens it. Shrugs and makes noncommittal radio noises.

Alastor: ... Frankly I don’t know what a normal quantity of horny is.

Valera

Val: I did research, but I don't know how sound it is. We're outsiders trying to look in to a very strange world.

Alastor

Vaguely nods, yeah, that’s true

Alastor: ... What’s the research say?

Valera

Val: Once a week seems like normal horny, in a relationship? A heightened few weeks or months of activity at the start before it levels out seems normal too.

Alastor

Alastor: Weekly?? For the same activity? That’s not as bad as I’d thought, but doesn’t that get boring?

Alastor: ... No, okay, I could schedule a weekly dinner date and never get tired of it, I’ve got no room to talk.

Valera

Val: I was going to say! I do all kinds of stuff on a weekly basis without it getting dull. Plus it does wonders for relieving tension, which I can appreciate from a medical standpoint.

Alastor

SKEPTICAL LOOK

Alastor: You find it RELAXING?

Valera

Val: Well sure! It's only nerve wracking if you aren't at ease, and after almost an entire _year,_ Penny and I have figured out what we like. Plus.. Neither of us sweat, there's no cleanup to worry about, and after the fact the brain gets flooded with feel good chemicals.

Alastor

Alastor: Oh, right, the feel good chemicals, right.

Valera

Val: Not familiar with them, Alastor?

Alastor

Alastor: ......... We’re passingly acquainted

Alastor struggling to figure out how to answer without Discussing Specific Sex Acts

Valera

The STRUGGLE.

Val: Only passingly, interesting. Well, you get a lot more of them with a partner, suffice to say.

Alastor

He's just 8)

Alastor: I would prefer not to!

Valera

Val: You don't have to! I'm telling you why the allosexuals like it so much. Or why I assume they do.

Sex talk with two aces this can only go well!!

Alastor

It sounded like Valera was speaking from a little more than secondhand experience there for a bit but you know what? Alastor isn’t going to ask for clarification. It’s fine. Doesn’t need to know.

Alastor: ... To be quite frank, I prefer far less to be a co-star and more to be a fluffer. I’m sure that’s going to disappoint him sooner or later, but...

Valera

What? The visibly pregnant fish might have firsthand knowledge about sex? Perish the thought.

Alastor

You never know. Mary made it work.

Valera

Immaculate conception of her husband's child, sell that story to the news!

Val: I'm sure you two discussed that before getting together, no?

Alastor

Alastor: ... *As* we were getting together, yes.

Valera

Val: Well then! He knows what he signed up for, and unless he says it's a problem, it shouldn't be treated like one.

Dismissive little hand wave.

Alastor

Alastor: Yes, yes. I don’t intend to treat it like one. Just... making conversation about the whole ‘get more with a partner’ concept.

A similarly dismissive little gesture.

Valera

Val: Ah! Yes, I see, that was perhaps too blanket a statement. Well, he has his other partner, I assume?

Alastor

Alastor: I assume. He hasn’t talked about their sex life. None of my business, I’m sure.

Valera

Wiggly hand gesture.

Val: Yes and no. You ARE his partner.

Val: I tell Penny what Leal and I get up to.

Alastor

Alastor: But do you tell my alternate about how often you have sex with Sir Pentious?

Valera

Val: If he asks! Which he doesn't, really, but we did talk about the finer points of eating pussy.

Alastor

RAISED EYEBROW.

Alastor: ... I don’t think the man I’ve been dating for under a month owes me the details of a near stranger’s sex life. I’ve only met his other partner a couple of times, what business is it of mine what she gets up to?

Alastor: I wouldn’t mind knowing what HE gets up to, but sex is a group sport.

Valera

Val: It isn't like he owes you her life story in hardback, but a frank discussion isn't going to breach confidentiality.

Val: Dating someone who is dating someone else means you're entitled to know what you're consenting to, Alastor.

Alastor

Alastor: I’ve already consented to be with a man who’s probably sleeping with someone else, I can’t think of anything else they could be getting up to that would possibly affect me.

Alastor: Unless their bedroom activities happen to include calling up all my worst enemies and telling them everything they know about me—but if it did, I doubt he’d admit so if I asked about it, would he?

Valera

Her turn to raise an eyebrow.

Alastor

Alastor: ... I don’t think they ARE, I’m trying to think of the most out-there hypothetical possibility.

Valera

Val: Good, I was about to be worried. But really, if those are the boundaries you're comfortable with, that's fine. But I don't think you'd be out of line to ask for more information. Either you'll learn, or he'll tell you it isn't something he wants to discuss.

Alastor

Alastor: Honestly, it... doesn’t cross my mind.

Man has no object permanence when it comes to sex

Valera

Val: Dare I say it, mood. But really, if that's how you like it, good for you, keep on keeping on.

Alastor

Alastor: I intend to!

Unless Telly doesn’t like it, but they’ll cross that bridge when they reach it.

Valera

Val: Then there's no issue, I hope!

Alastor

Alastor: One hopes! ... How did we get on this?

Valera

Val: I... Think it started when I called Pentious horny? And then you got worried about not being an active enough participant?

Alastor

Alastor: Oh, yes, right! But worried, no. Just a passing thought.

Valera

Val: Well, based on my knowledge, as long as the partner gets off they don't often care about the methods.

Shrug! Don't ask where the knowledge came from.

Alastor

Alastor: Ha! If it was that easy, I doubt so many people would be so distressed when the have to make do with their own hands!

Valera

Val: Did you know there's an entire subset of men that intentionally make their hands fall asleep so they can pretend someone else is getting them off?

Alastor

Alastor: You know, it just so happens I did. And I do not understand the appeal. It combines all the worst parts of getting your mouth numbed for a dental procedure with something half-dead and dangerously uncoordinated fumbling with your delicate bits.

Valera

WHEEZE... Oh that caught her off guard, give her a second to collect herself.

Alastor

He’ll wait. Smugly basking in his comedic genius.

Valera

Val: You said it yourself, sex is a group activity for a lot of people. Lonely people want someone else to make them feel good.

Alastor

Alastor: But if that’s all it takes, then why for so many people is a hand inferior to a mouth, and a mouth inferior to a more intimate part? No, I’m sure that there’s more to it than simply a desire for company when cleaning one’s pipes. The methods don’t trump the company, but they do matter.

Valera

Val: I could say more, but then I'd have to start talking about my own _alleged_ experiences.

Alastor

Alastor: ... Is the answer going to be something to the effect of “that particular bit of anatomy feels nicer against one’s equipment than other bits of anatomy?”

Valera

Val: Kind of. I'm sure some people prefer various bits, and they certainly feel _different._ I wouldn't say better though, just on physical contact alone.

Alastor

Alastor: ..."Kind of"?

You know what they say about cats and curiosity

Valera

Val: Yes, kind of. A hand can do things a mouth can't, and vice versa.

Alastor

Alastor: All right! That’s more or less where I thought you were going with that.

Valera

Val: Yes! Though there's a lot to be said for the varying degrees of intimacy.

Alastor

Alastor: I’m sure there is! No doubt there’s something special about the moment you finally get to show your loved one the parts of yourself you previously only shared with your toilet. ... So sorry, I don’t mean to be *dismissive* of the whole thing—I can just never quite get over that association, you know?

Valera

Val: Oh, no, I agree _completely._ Not that I'd tell that to Penny, of course. That would be cruel. But if my husband wants to mutually stimulate nerve endings a few times a week I'm happy to make him happy.

Alastor

SNORT. Mutually stimulate nerve endings.

Alastor: Well, what couples are equally interested in ALL their hobbies?

Valera

Val: None, unless it's two alternates of the same person, I guess!

Alastor

Alastor: Oh, you’d be surprised.

Valera

Val: Oh?? That sounds ominous. You know something I don't?

Alastor

Alastor: I know a lot of my own alternates, primarily!

Valera

Val: Yes, and I suppose even they have varying levels of interest in things?

Alastor

Alastor: Wildly varying! Why, sometimes you can meet yourself and wonder where you have anything in common at all! It’s fascinating, really.

Valera

Val: Goodness, that DOES sound fascinating. I can't imagine.. There's only one me, the idea of a me who isn't like me at all is just bizarre!

Alastor

Alastor: Only one? Or only one that you’ve found so far?

Valera

Val: By virtue of what I am, the only one! Unless something goes VERY Wrong.

Alastor

Alastor: Really! Do elaborate?

Valera

Val: I'm a singularity! There is one me, just in a lot of places!

Alastor

Slow blink.

Alastor: ... Like a god?

Valera

Val: Is... Is that a god thing?

Squint.

Alastor

Alastor: I don’t know many other things that can be in multiple places at once and yet remain an undivided entity with a singular source. Either a god or a radio signal—and signals can get distorted.

Valera

Val: ..... I'd rather be a radio signal than a god, honestly, but. Yeah, I guess? I didn't think it was so uncommon!

Alastor

Alastor: I’ve seen people so rare that even when they go looking, they can only find themselves in one universe—but that’s usually a trick of the universe itself, some little chain of cause-and-effect that only worked out once! Move a dimension to the left and their parents never met, move a dimension to the right and their grandmother died in infancy, and so on. But what *you’re* talking about—one person with a simultaneous singular presence in many realities? That sounds to me like something operating a step higher than your run-of-the-mill monodimensional mortals.

Valera

Val: I could turn on the TV right now and show you what the me in another reality is doing right now, I'm fully aware of myself. Are you saying you _don't_ have that?

_When you are suddenly hit over the head with the fact that you're actually an outlier and not the standard_

Alastor

Alastor: If I want to know what another me is doing, I have to call him up and ask! And sometimes I’ll find out he’s been hearing salacious details about my best friend’s oral skills. I can assure you I wasn’t fully aware of THAT, hah! I’ve heard of people with psychic sensitivities to their alternate selves—a sudden sense of disembodied alarm when something goes wrong elsewhere, emotions without a source, that sort of thing—but that particular sensitivity doesn’t come naturally to me. As far as psychic abilities go, I’d say that one in particular is notably rare.

Valera

Blink.

Val: Oh. Uh. Well. All of my species is like this. _All_ of us are singular individuals.

Alastor

Alastor: ARE you singular individuals? Or do you have alternates just like any other species, but because all of your alternates are... psychically linked, as it were, your thoughts are so inextricably intermingled that the whole lot of you consider yourself one person with one identity?

Valera

Val: At that point, what's the difference?

Alastor

Alastor: It’s the difference between a radio transmitter broadcasting the same song to a dozen different radio receivers, versus a dozen individual radio transceivers that play the same songs because they’re directly broadcasting to each other. Is it one singular thing that’s being witnessed in many places, or is it many separate things that have synchronized and homogenized with each other? In day-to-day life the difference might not matter; but philosophically, spiritually, magically, I think it all makes a great difference!

Valera

Val: Fair enough! But I still believe it's the former. The me you see now is the me that all the information goes back to. We've never cared enough to investigate it in depth.

Alastor

Alastor: ... Do you mean information *doesn’t* go back to the other versions of you?

He’s fascinated, he’s taking mental notes, he’s going all metaphysical occultist on this.

Valera

Val: Of course it does, if I don't intentionally restrict it, which is not something I'd be inclined to do. I'm simply aware of them the way you are aware of your arm.

Alastor

Alastor: So all versions of you get all the information from all versions of you.

Valera

Val: Yes! Unless I'm playing one of my games. Sometimes I'll make myself think I'm a normal mortal for a while. It's fun!

Alastor

Alastor: ......... Let’s unpack that a little.

Valera

Val: Sure! Where do we start?

Alastor

Alastor: Your “games”?

Valera

Val: Yes! A lot of Veci do it as they get older. They'll go to a universe and have one of themselves live a very normal mortal life, unaware of what they actually are.

Val: It's a fascinating perspective.

Alastor

Alastor: So, you cut off one version of yourself from the hive mind. And this version, I take it, then forgets for the duration of the game that they were once a part of a hive mind? Their memories only consist of what they experienced in their own home universe, and anything that they thought or did due to the influence of their other selves, they... what, make up a new false memory to explain away, something like that? And they aren’t receiving information, but they’re still sending out information for the rest of you to receive?

Valera

Val: Yes! Exactly so. A one way broadcast back to home base.

Alastor

Alastor: Huh! What about the people around the game piece who know they ought to be connected to other dimensions—or do you disguise yourself and drop yourself on some alien planet before you start the game?

Valera

Val: The latter! It's no fun if other people know things you don't, they could ruin the game for you. Unless you're going somewhere dangerous, then a lot of people will ask someone to send in an aware variant of themselves to help keep them in the game longer. Istoph does that for me in some places!

Alastor

Alastor: Does your game piece go in cold, wandering around like an amnesiac? Or are they given some sort of... of false set of memories, to blend in with the locals?

Valera

Val: Depends which is more interesting. Usually the latter, unless I can think of a reason that an amnesia story would work better.

Alastor

Alastor: And when does the game end? Death? Discovery? Is there a way for your game piece to "win" or is the game only supposed to be watched?

Valera

Val: It's usually for a set amount of time! A year or two, a decade at most. I don't let them Reproduce or anything, I don't want to go sowing any wild oats. That's how you get overly sensitive humans half the damn time.

A shake of her head.

Alastor

Alastor: ... Yes, that *would* do it.

Valera

Val: ... I don't.. I don't mean to imply _you_ were a result of that or anything. There is more than one way that could happen.

Alastor

Although he doesn't much like the thought that someone somewhere could use that information to dismiss particularly psychic humans as partially inhuman.

Alastor: I should hope I wasn't! I come from a long line of magically gifted people—we don't need the outside help!

Valera

Val: Hah! I know, I could practically smell it on you. If I turned you loose on Okkylk you'd get swarmed.

Alastor

Alastor: ... Swarmed like a dog in heat, or swarmed like a bleeder amidst sharks?

Valera

Val: .... Considering how violent Veci are in the act, uh. Both.

Alastor

A slow, slow nod.

Alastor: ... To steal my traits.

Valera

FACE JOURNEY

Val: I take it he told you about that one, eh? Not his finest moment

Alastor

Alastor: It will be my most carefully-guarded secret. ... But you knew about it already, so.

Valera

Val: To be fair, it's hilarious. I was minding my own business and then the guy I just started dating calls me to accuse me of stealing his traits like some kind of succubus.

Alastor

Alastor: ... I think succubi reproduce with humans because it’s easier, rather than because they want human traits. But don’t quote me on that, I don’t talk to many succubi.

Valera

Val: Neither do I, honestly. Plus, come on. Really? I could have just seduced him, I'm the one that insisted on a relationship.

Alastor

Alastor: Well, how many traits did you *want?* It could take a while!

Valera

Val: Oh yes, of course. If I'm going to get traits I may as well get a full set out of him! However many that is!

Alastor

Alastor: Only one way to find out!

Valera

Val: You're just saying that so you can flex on your alts with all the kids who'd call you uncle.

Alastor

Alastor: I’m willing to share unclehood with as many of my alternates who care to claim it!

Hand over heart, how magnanimous.

Alastor: ... So, are you only pregnant in this universe or all of them?

Valera

Val: Only this one. This is the only body that's gotten plowed by anyone and that's how I'm keeping it.

Snrk.

Alastor

Alastor: Then which universe any given Veci has... copies, facets, whatever—of themself in will vary wildly, depending on whether or not their parents happened to have synchronized date nights across those universes? I suppose it would be *easier* to synchronize up, if every version of you is connected—just like a whole line of dancers doing the can-can together—but what if one body sneezes and an egg doesn’t get filled, does that Veci just have one less version of themself than everyone else? Will Eelizzy have no other selves across the universe?

Valera

val: ..Do you think I'm going to sneeze too hard and shoot this egg across the-- Nevermind. Veci children aren't stable enough to exist in multiple realities, they have to grow up and get more control of their magic before they can manifest across realms.

Alastor

Eyebrows shoot up.

Alastor: No, I was talking about the conception, splash one or two drops the other way and... never mind, that’s the boring part! You’re telling me you start off as one singular entity in a singular universe—and *then* you split off into separate versions of yourself... deliberately?

Valera

Val: Well of course! There's only one Pelagios right now, he won't split off until he's fifteen for his first practice run, and then in earnest in his twenties. Rite of passage and all that!

Alastor

AMAZED BLINK. And then he’s opening a portal and hauling out his grimoire, ‘scuse him, don’t mind him.

Valera

She watches, slow blinking. What, did THAT catch his attention?

Alastor

Alastor: I should have been taking notes all along—I apologize, I do believe you were right, you *are* a lone tower transmitting to many receivers—or at the very least you do start off as one tower! How do you split, does it follow the natural branching of timelines—when two paths of history split over somebody’s decision, you just keep conscious contact with the two versions of you formed at that fork? Or do you create your duplicate self and then assign it to some pre-chosen timeline?

Scribble scribble SCRIBBLE scribble.

Valera

Val: The latter at first, I see a reality that interests me and drop in, and then as it progresses, it becomes the former. As the timeline I chose to investigate develops and changes, I follow the branching paths and observe the varying realities. It is *fascinating* stuff. Though sometimes a branch seems doomed, in which case I'll usually withdraw and send that variant elsewhere instead. Start the whole process over.

Alastor

Alastor: So you can pick and choose which path you follow—but you don’t AUTOMATICALLY form another version of yourself, only when you want to? That means that more versions of you AREN’T forming every single time a timeline you’re in branches, correct? But a single timeline can branch countless times, a hundred times an hour—I’m pulling that number out of my you-know, just as an example—if a timeline branches a hundred times an hour, then that means that in ninety-nine percent of all those timelines, a Veci living in it will suddenly... vanish into thin air? Is that right?

Valera

Val: Close enough, which is *generally* why we try to live very lowkey lives. Making new branches of yourself isn't.. *energy consuming* or anything, but you have to be able to process that amount of information. We don't vanish into thin air, but we'll often arrange a swift withdrawal. A sudden move, a staged home invasion, or, in a pinch, just erase ourselves from people's memories. Though that one is imprecise and often leaves lingering traces. Not ideal.

Alastor

Alastor: I imagine it explains an encounter with the fae or two.

Valera

Val: Probably? That's my theory.

Alastor

Alastor: And how often DO timelines branch around you, would you estimate? Are you abandoning thousands of iterations of the same place a day or... Well, I sort of *imagine* that time branches at ridiculously high rates, but I don’t actually know.

Valera

val: Not as often as you think honestly. Obviously it happens, but most people aren't wildly changing reality with every move. The butterfly effect is not as impactful as people believe it is.

Alastor

Alastor gratefully waves away the nightmarish thought of a million sad snakes wondering where his wife went.

Valera

Thoughtful hum....

Val: *You* probably caused a split, back in the day. There's a reality out there where you're dating the Pentious of your Hell. That was a fairly significant moment with pretty obvious impact on the rest of the population.

Alastor

Alastor: I’d always wondered about that! The whole ‘butterfly’ effect thing—particularly considering how often universes seem to CONVERGE on each other. Those of us who have more conventional alternates—it’s *amazing* how often I can talk to myself and think “why, you and I are so similar—our realities must have split no more than ten minutes ago!” and then I find out my other self has completely different parents and a big sister to boot. If two universes that started out in utterly different places can drift back together—

Oh. He stops talking with a noise like a motor dying.

Valera

Slow nod.

Val: It's not like every breakup causes a split in realities. But a drastic choice that results in explosions? Yeah.

Alastor

From 100 to 0 with one sentence.

Valera

Shoulder pat.

Val: It's weird to think about.

Alastor

Alastor: ... I hope he’s doing better.

Valera

Val: ... You're doing better too, Alastor. Better than you were.

Alastor

Alastor: I didn’t mean my alternate.

Valera

Squint.

Val: Your Pentious.

Alastor

Alastor: The one over there isn’t “my” Pentious. ... Sir Pentious. He’s just an alternate of my Sir Pentious, just like the one I’m seeing is an alternate of my Sir Pentious, and the one you’re married to is an alternate of my Sir Pentious. He just branched off a little more recently, that’s all.

Alastor: “My” Sir Pentious will always be the one that I backstabbed.

Valera

Val: He's fine. And *yours* will be okay too. We both know Sir Pentious is stubborn and unstoppable.

Alastor

Alastor: Stubborn, yes. ... We’re going to fix all that, though. So that this never happened.

Alastor: The original plan was to... to wrench the course of this timeline off its current path and onto the path it *would* have had if that decision had been different. But if you think the timeline *already* split there—then it’s not so much a matter of relocating this timeline as it is—just erasing it entirely, so that the other one is the only one left. Right?

Valera

She grimaces. That's a *lot* of people she'd be killing. Erasing from existence. Whatever.

Alastor

She agreed to it once before.

Valera

Val: Yeah, essentially. Not pleasant to think about, but... Yeah. And it's theoretically possible, but. Again. Fifty fifty shot.

Val: I'm... Surprised you'd still want to do it, though. You've got a boyfriend now. What about him?

Alastor

He squeezes his eyes shut and looks pained a second. That’s the same thought that he had. And that he HAS had about a thousand times.

Alastor: This was never about what I want, it was about him. Putting him back on track. Where he deserves to be.

Valera

Val: .... Not to... Okay, you know what, *yes* to be that person. But you want to help one Pentious by hurting another? If you wanted to spare the man you backstabbed, you shouldn't have started dating Telly. You *know* losing you is going to hurt him, *if* it works.

Alastor

Another pained wince.

Alastor: No, you’re right, I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I shouldn’t have. And I knew I shouldn’t have, and... well. Here we are. But I can’t just—just change my mind, not when I have my first chance to make this right!

Valera

Val: I know. I understand. I—I wish I didn't but I *do* and I hate it. And I'm still going to try and help you. If you're sure you want to try. Even though this is. *Awful.* And only going to hurt people. Penny. Telly. Gods only know what will happen if we succeed. If we don't.. You'll hurt him anyway. You know this isn't something you should keep secret from him.

Alastor

And we’ve got a triple pained wince combo!

Alastor: How can I *not?* How can I just—just... happily go about my days, having picnics with one version of him and cuddling up to sleep with another, merrily getting ready for my big Broadway debut, dreaming about infernal conquest like I haven’t been able to dream in half a century—when he’s Hell’s laughingstock because of me?! Everything’s finally coming together for me, but the man I loved first and longest is a joke! How can I live out his dreams with an echo of him? What the Hell gives me the right to let a world like that exist?

Valera

Val: I know we've discussed this before, but. Tell me. Why haven't you tried to make amends? You'll never be friends again, obviously, but surely you could take out some overlords, or anonymously provide supplies... Do some networking, find allies to thrust his way without your name ever crossing his mind?

Frown...

Alastor

Alastor: ... I’ve done a bit. Taken out some of his rivals, that sort of thing.

Valera

Val: That's good! If your major grievance is that you've ruined his life, isn't it right to fix the damage you've caused, even if it's hard?

Alastor

Alastor: And then I heard him whining about how somebody else took down his foes before he had a chance to.

Wan smile.

Valera

.... Somehow, she doesn't look surprised. She just rolls her eyes.

Val: Okay, yeah that sounds like Every Pentious I Know.

Alastor

Smiles a little wider for a second

Alastor: Doesn’t it?

Valera

Val: I love my Penny, truly, but he's a _brat_ and so are his alts. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't, Alastor. Literally. You might as well be damned handing the man an overlord on a platter. Even if he complains, at least he's getting a chance to rebuild.

Alastor

Alastor: ... I—*hm*—but—It isn’t *right.* It shouldn’t be just, just... He’s had half a century wasted. All that should be gone. Not just made up for after the fact, but—GONE. Shouldn’t it? Throwing him favors after the fact is, it’s... it’s...

Gestures vaguely and throws out meaningless sound effects. You know!!!

Valera

A sympathetic nod.

Val: I know. Erasing it seems like the kindest option, but is it? Would that be what _he'd_ want? To simply undo everything? Or would he want to claw his way back to the top and spit in the face of every overlord who tried to keep him down? You know him better than I do, so this is not rhetorical. It's a genuine question.

Alastor

He’s gotta stop and stare into space while he thinks about that.

Alastor: ... If somebody asked the Sir Pentious of today if he’d want the last century of troubles retroactively wiped away... I don’t know. I don’t know if he’d rather *have* the throne or *earn* the throne. He’s never had any shame about using an unfair advantage, the only reason he was able to conquer half the States was because he was filthy rich for no good reason and he’ll tell you so himself, but... he wouldn’t want somebody else to do his conquering *for* him, but I don’t know if that’s what he’d consider somebody changing history for him. But if I asked the Sir Pentious of ‘66 which route he’d like to go on, the one where he’s got a loyal ally and can get on with the business of conquest or the one where he’s betrayed and has to start at square one just for a fun extra challenge, he’d ask me if I’m crazy and say he’d rather have the first route. No question.

Alastor: ... But he already HAS that route, if you’re right. If it split then. If it *did* split then, then I’m not... I’m not giving the one I know a little mind wipe and transplanting him sideways into a better reality. That reality is already there and populated. I’m just... destroying him. Right?

Valera

Val: Correct. Is that mercy? Is that making amends?

Val: Wouldn't it be better to improve his life, rather than erase him entirely?

She almost reaches for Alastor's hand, but thinks better of it. Fiddle with her necklace it is.

Alastor

Alastor: ... Is there a way to see? If that universe already exists? If it doesn’t then we can proceed as planned.

Valera

Val: Oh, yes of course there is. I could try to find it, put myself in it the way I do any other universe. Would you like me to?

Alastor

Alastor: It could settle things.

Valera

Val: True. Do I have permission to peek under the hood of your reality?

Alastor

Alastor: ... What, right now?? You can just do it on the spot?

Valera

Val: I could, but I'm not going to. I'm _heavily_ pregnant and my baby is liable to start spitting static that could mess with my spells. I'll have to wait until she's tuckered out, play something energetic until the little thing wiggles herself senseless.

She pats her belly affectionately, but with a roll of the eyes.

Alastor

Alastor: Ha! Right. Of course.

... Plays something energetic.

Valera

The egg, predictably, seems very excited about this sudden turn of events and starts throwing hissing nonsense static fuzz into the air with a sensation not unlike static electricity.

Valera raises an eyebrow at Alastor.

Alastor

Valera

Val: Spoiling her already, are we? She's getting big enough to actually feel her moving, you know.

Alastor

Alastor: It was your idea. :) But really? Through the egg and all?

Valera

Val: Yes! Soft shelled eggs are a lot easier to feel through than hard shells, and she is _wiggling_. It's not obvious like a human baby kicking, but there's definitely weight shifting.

Alastor

Alastor: Oh, right—they WERE soft, weren’t they! I was trying to be polite and not look too closely.

Valera

Val: Understandable! Amusingly similar to snake eggs, really. Which means by the time May rolls around I'm going to be strangling any radio demon brave enough to try and get this baby active.

She's grinning, but not in a way that says she's joking.

Alastor

Alastor: You were the one who suggested getting her to wiggle herself senseless, I’m only following your sage advice.

Valera

Val: You're evil. How _dare_ you listen to me. If my daughter wants to learn the trumpet when she's older it's your fault. She's being seduced by _Jazz music_.

Alastor

Alastor: I’m setting her up for a life of vice and villainy, EXACTLY as I’m sure her father would want.

Valera

Val: He'll want her learning the pipe organ and how to cackle maniacally. That classic Romantic ideal of brooding and fits of murderous passion. You'll have her _flashing ankles_ on the dance floor!!

A mock gasp!! Perish the thought!

Alastor

Alastor: All the better to shock and scandalize her enemies, right before eliminating them! If they’re staring at her ankles, they’ll never see her gun.

Valera

Val: Bold, I like it. But you'll have to explain that one to Penny, I can already tell he's going to be one of those dads who fawn over their daughter. Leal too, even if he insists he's not attached.

A VERY dramatic roll of the eyes.

Alastor

Alastor: Ha! Then I can do one better—I’ll get *her* to explain it to Sir Pentious.

Valera

Val: Oh that can _only_ go well. I'm holding you to that one, Alastor.

Alastor

A wink.

Alastor: My alternate can fawn over her—I think instead I’ll conspire with her. I just hope she’s a rascal.

Valera

Val: Well I don't know about _Penny_, but I was a rascal without equal in my youth! I knocked over half the shelves in a library and pinned it on another kid. I'm sure she'll give me as many headaches as I gave my caretakers.

Alastor

Alastor: Never you fear, I'll do my best to make sure she lives up to the precedent you've set!

Valera

Val: I appreciate that, Alastor! I'm sure I'll be much too busy doing boring parent stuff. Not sure what, but it'll catch me. Maybe I'll go to a PTA meeting.

Alastor

Alastor: A... what meeting?

The man hasn't been around children in almost nine decades, he'd forgotten such esoteric acronyms. It sounds like a military thing.

Valera

Val: A PTA meeting! A parent teacher... SOMETHING meeting. I don't know what the A is for.

Alastor

Snaps fingers! Now it’s familiar.

Alastor: Assassination.

Alastor: ... Wait.

Valera

Val: I don't think I'm supposed to assassinate the teachers. Although, if they're doing a bad job...

Kombucha girl face journey.

Val: No. No. It's probably association or something stupid like that.

Alastor

SNAPS FINGERS AGAIN.

Alastor: THAT was it! Association! Pity, “Parent Teacher Assassination” sounded far more fun.

Valera

Val: It DOES sound more fun. Now I'm disappointed.

Alastor

Alastor: Sounds like a fantastic parent-child bonding activity, too!

Valera

Val: Take the teacher with the lowest reviews and hunt them for sport? Sounds like something you'd enjoy.

Alastor

He’s got to pause and think about that for a moment.

Alastor: Who’s reviewing them?

Valera

Val: Not sure. The students, I imagine?

Alastor

Alastor: All right, seems fair! I’m for it!

Valera

Val: Good! You'll be handling the PTA meetings then, that's _one_ less thing for me to worry about.

Snrk snrk. She's kidding. Probably.

Alastor

Alastor: Oh, CAN I? I’ve always wanted to be a problem at school events! An *adult* problem, I mean. I imagine it’s a somewhat different experience from being a student problem.

Valera

Val: What, you want to get saddled with my kid for an evening to go to a school and scare the hell out of the staff?

Alastor

Alastor: Scare them, annoy the hell out of them, say wildly inaccurate things that they’re forced to agree with because they know I’m there on behalf of the autocrat... any of the above, really!

Valera

Val: Well damn! Alright, I'll make sure you go to at least a couple of them. If I send you and one of your alts we can _really_ get a show.

Alastor

Oh look at him he’s ecstatic. This just opened up a whole new world of pranks.

Valera

Val: I've never seen someone so excited about going to a PTA meeting. But hey, who am I to deny you fresh victims? Congratulations on your upcoming career in school harassment.

Alastor

Alastor: Thank you, I eagerly anticipate it!

Valera

Egg probably wore herself out while they were discussing the finer points of PTA sabotage

Alastor

yeah there IS a secondary timeline where Sir Pent and Al are Hell's most feared power couple. Airships are everywhere. Lucifer is going "oh shit the prisoners are unionizing." Alastor and Sir Pent wear matching outfits. They have a kid, where did they get a kid, did they adopt a baby imp or something??? what the fuck

Valera

Oh my god

Val takes one look at that timeline, looks at that Alastor, looks at this one. Looks back. "Well you're a dad in this one." And does not provide context

Alastor

Alastor just. Sits on the floor.

Valera

Well she can't exactly pat his head so they just have to sit there. Timeline confirmed welcome to die

Alastor

"What's their name?"

Valera

"What, the kid? I didn't think to ask. Does it matter?"

Alastor

"Just wondered." He's gotta lay down.

Valera

Guess she's gotta go try to learn the kids name now if Alastor is gonna be a sad floppy man. Feels bad.

Alastor

He was gonna be a sad floppy man regardless.

Valera

It is in the nature of Alastors to be sad and floppy men

Valera

But only under SPECIFIC circumstances

Alastor

Selectively sad and floppy

Valera

"...... Alternate timeline you's kid is named Codie Grace." Alright that is enough telling Alastor things about the future he doesn't have

Alastor

In one universe The Alastor That Didn't Fuck Up is probably giving Valera this c: look like do you get it. do you. do you get it. And in this universe The Fuckup Alastor is squinting at the ceiling and then suddenly goes "WE NAMED OUR KID *COUP DE GRÂCE*?!"

Valera

VAL GETS IT AND SHE ISN'T SURE IF SHE LOVES IT OR HATES IT

But it is VERY like them, the bastards

Alastor

Alastor just covers his face and laughs. It is the laugh of a broken man. Yeah. Yeah that's what he would name a kid, dammit. It's true.

Valera

Poor Fuckup Alastor

Alastor

"... Are they successful, over there? Are they happy?"

Valera

"They wear matching outfits and have airships all over the place so yes and yes."

She's gonna need a broom to pet this man with. There there.

Alastor

It's just a high pitched static whine noise. *Matching outfits...*

That's BASICALLY the exact same thing as marriage. You're married when you wear the same outfits.

Valera

What is marriage if not an elaborate excuse to wear matching outfits? Just keep doing it, forever.

Pat. Pat. "And now you know. There's a reality out there where you and your local Pentious are basically married with a kid and have airships over like, half of Hell."

Alastor

He's gonna. Lay there for a second. And process that.

And then sit up and cradle his head in his hands and process that some more.

Valera

Would he like.... Well. Not tea but she can get him some water. Maybe a coffee.

Alastor

Coffee would be nice

Valera

She can do coffee. Does he want any cream or sugar?

Alastor

Black as his soul. Like an edgy hottopic goth kid.

Valera

She'll get him some pourover, let him have a good coffee while his brain wheezes and stalls.

Alastor

He eventually gets himself up in a chair with his coffee. Look at that, he's almost human again. "So there's already a place where it all worked out."

Valera

"That seems to be the case, yes." The power of coffee, clearly. If only sitting upright really fixed your problems.

Alastor

A nod, and then he’s silent again a moment as he processes this. “So there’s—I wouldn’t be helping him. I can’t help him like this.”

Valera

"You cannot. You can't just wave away what you did to him. Not without ruining another Pentious' life."

Alastor

“It’s not just ‘waving away’! Don’t forget that doing this would erase me, too! It’s not *running* from the consequences of my actions, it’s *paying* for them!” He’s gotta hop up and pace. “‘Waving away’ what I did is what I’m doing right NOW—getting to—to move on and be happy like it never happened! How is that fair?!”

Valera

"How is it fair? Good question, let me counter with another." She sips the tea she got for herself, watching him pace. "Have you forgiven yourself?"

Alastor

He pauses for half a second, and then continues pacing. “Now, why would I go and do a damn fool thing like that?” He laughs wryly. “I don’t see how it matters.”

Valera

"Because you're in Hell, and why would Hell ever _really_ let you win?"

Alastor

“*Hell* wouldn’t—and that’s why I’m outsourcing the job. I don’t see what that has to do with forgiveness and fairness.”

Valera

"Didn't you think Hell has some measure of control over you, or am I misremembering?"

A stretch, and a hand lays over her belly. Rub rub. "Now. I am loathe to admit I could still try to break your timeline like a bone and forcefully reset it into a shape similar to the one I saw, but. I could. Though THAT is something I've never tried at all, I've got no idea if it would work."

Alastor “‘It’s not my fault, the devil made me do it’?” Alastor shook his head. “It’s my fault. Hell is pulling some strings, sure—it can, say, nudge things around to prey on your worst character flaws—but it doesn’t give you those character flaws.”

He stops pacing again. “What would that involve?”

Valera

She opens her mouth, closes it. Clicks her tongue. "That's what I'm figuring out. It *can* be done. I've never done it. But I said I would help you, so I have to offer it as a possibility. It would probably take something fairly drastic. There was a window between you making your decision and actually betraying Pentious, right?"

Alastor

A slow nod. “Ten or fifteen minutes.”

Valera

"There are... A few options. I don't know how *viable* they actually are, right now. I'll have to do research. But I *think* I could try to remove you *entirely* from the timeline at that point. Most likely through a faked assassination or kidnapping. That would break the timeline off the track that was set, an outlier that was not within reasonable bounds. Then give the timeline a few hours, maybe days as it tries to course correct and *cannot*, and then I... Drop *you* back in. Let you run back to Sir Pentious, alive, if not unharmed. At the very least, I'm sure he'd be too busy being glad you were alive to be angry that whatever scheme he was currently enacting got thrown off."

Alastor

He stops breathing for a moment as he thinks about Sir Pentious having to deal with Alastor so suddenly disappearing.

And he tries not to too deeply analyze his disappointment when Valera says they’d put him back. He starts pacing again. “And that would be—like we discussed before? This version of the timeline disappears completely?”

Valera

"It would be impossible for the timeline to continue as it was, so. Yes. You cannot betray Pentious if you aren't there. Everything would get thrown off the rails entirely. Timelines account for a reasonable margin of circumstances with everything people do. Most people rarely do things outside of their norm, so even small changes rarely mean anything and that's why they don't branch as much as people think."

She taps her stomach, lips pursing. "Again. Remember, I can't guarantee it would work. But it does seem the most *likely* to work out of all the options. The first obstacle would be me taking down the Radio Demon. I don't know if you're aware, Alastor, but I don't actually relish the thought of fighting you to what you'd believe to be your death."

Alastor

He laughs humorlessly. “You won’t need to fight. I can tell you exactly what to say to make me come willingly.”

Valera

Blink. Wait, what? She looks back up at him, eyebrows raising. "What, really?"

Alastor

“You think I don’t know myself well enough to know exactly what would make me shut up and listen? Don’t you have secret things that would immediately catch your attention if a stranger said them to you?” A shrug. “Anyway, I wasn’t exactly hard to persuade at that point! I’d just decided to escape a relationship by destroying everything he owned and running—if a stranger magically appeared in front of me and said ‘come with me, we need to fake your assassination,’ I’d consider it a miracle.”

Valera

Valera raises a finger. "Alastor, I am a stubborn, paranoid bitch of a politician. My own parents could miraculously spring back into existence and promise me anything I wanted and I would probably try to bite them. I can't be blackmailed because any time someone tries, I get my PR team to leak it themselves to control the narrative. I am TRULY the most contrary piece of work to get dragged into existence."

A pause.. Then she grins. "Lucky for us, you're not me. If you think that would work? *Good*. That's one of many obstacles down. A question, though, and possibly a dumb one. Would you even *want* to go back? If I ripped you from the timeline, that is."

Alastor

“Does what I’d want matter? Either you put me back, you exterminate me, or you drop me somewhere outside of Hell and I end up having to go back eventually. A disembodied soul can’t last forever outside of Hell, and I can’t move into a neighboring Hell without stepping on an alternate’s hooves.”

Valera

She rolls her eyes, sighing noisily. "Yes, it matters. Even if we can't figure out something better, I want to *try* and help you get a happier ending. Because right now, it's sounding like you're about to give up Telly to go run into your Pentious' arms. Which I don't think Telly would like much."

Alastor

“No! That’s not what I want! I keep double checking that this will delete the current timeline for a reason! If some different Alastor *just slightly* removed from me ends up with him, dandy, but it had damn well better not be me! I’m not trying to get back with him, I’m trying to get ERASED!”

Well. That’s sure something he said and can’t unsay.

Valera

She freezes, her eyes locked on Alastor's face. So, the truth comes out, does it? But is this the eye of the storm, or a defeated gasp? This may require some care.

A slow inhale. A shift of her weight as she sits more upright, face neutral. "I *see*."

Alastor

Those weren’t quite the words he expected out of himself, either. But he’s nothing if not impossible to shut up, so he swallows hard and soldiers on. “Didn’t I say, the very first time we discussed this, that when you made that other timeline, I didn’t want you to combine my memories with my past self—I wanted you to let me get deleted with the rest of this timeline? *This isn’t for me.* I don’t want to get him back—I want him to win. How isn’t that clear? If I wasn’t worried about what it would do to Sir Pentious’s psyche if his lover is assassinated on his airship the morning after they hooked up, I’d tell you to put a bullet through my head the moment you see me!”

Valera

She nods, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she watches him dig his hole deeper with every word he rattles out. She'd known this, really. He'd said it. But she didn't realize..

Well. Better late than never, one supposes. "And what about Telly, Alastor? What are you going to do about *him?* What of *his* psyche?"

Alastor

His face almost cracks completely, brows drawing and smile half wilting. He slumps down onto a seat again. “I shouldn’t have gotten him involved.” It’s not really an answer.

Valera

"No, you shouldn't have! But you did, and now you have another problem to solve. Because Alastor? I do NOT want to explain to that poor man that I helped his boyfriend erase himself from existence for the sake of the man he betrayed, and had planned on doing so before you two even met. You may not have to deal with the fallout, but *I will.*"

Alastor

He inhales sharply at the thought of it. “Isn’t there a way to... As long as we’re altering timelines, can’t we just... make it so he never met me? It was under three months ago, all it would take...” He can’t even finish. It feels like knives just to think about.

Valera

"I already find the idea of breaking your timeline dubious at best, and now you want me to alter the reality of my friend? An innocent party in all this? You *know* he wouldn't want that, Alastor. I agreed to help you with one very specific problem, it isn't my fault that you decided to dally with another snake and complicate matters when you knew your time was potentially limited to months. I wont help you fix that."

She struggles to her feet, empty mug in hand. "I am going to get a refill on my tea. Do you want more coffee, Alastor?"

Alastor

He glances at his cup. He still hasn’t quite emptied it. He shakes his head.

Valera

A nod. "I will be clear. I am not angry, I am not saying I wont help you. But I cannot fix all of your problems so easily. Your actions have consequences, and erasing yourself wont leave everyone happy and everything tied up with a bow." Her thumbs rub over the smooth finish of her mug, brow furrowing in thought.

"I am sorry, Alastor. If I could guarantee, one hundred percent, that I could erase you from Telly's life, take you back to your timeline, and wipe you out before you ever hurt your Pentious.. I would. I would obliterate your mind on the spot and let whatever version of you sprang forth, happy and in love, carry on with your day like it never happened. And I'd take that to my grave. But I can't make that promise." Okay she'd better actually leave, standing around holding an empty cup to rant at someone is stupid. Give her a bit.

Alastor

He nods vaguely, but although he absorbs what Valera says, most of his focus is on his own thoughts.

Telly. If he leaves, who’s there for Telly? Who’s the one who will bargain, threaten, or assassinate whoever it takes to get Telly the supplies he needs for his ship? When all his machines are broken, who’s going to be the one to fill the gaps with magic until they’re repaired? Who will tell him that he’s beautiful, brilliant, unstoppable, every day until he believes it himself? Who’s going to *feed* him?

Every single day, Alastor sees more of Telly’s real self—the person Alastor met just shy of three months ago is hardly a ghost compared to the person Telly is now. It doesn’t matter how Alastor leaves. If he just vanishes, then everything he’s tried to give Telly will be lost. If they never met, then Alastor never gave him those things at all.

He’s still brooding on these thoughts when Valera gets back.

Valera

Valera lets him have some silence, settling back down with her tea as she observes Alastor's stewing. Good. He's thinking. Maybe he'll think his way *out* of this idiocy.

Alastor

He’s working on it.

His Sir Pentious, though—the one he *betrayed*—nothing is fixed for him if Alastor *doesn’t* follow through. He’s still stuck where he is. So which is worse? Which weighs heavier? Never paying the price and making amends for the sin he committed before, or committing a fresh sin now? If no matter what he does, he’s got to knowingly and deliberately doom one of them to an afterlife of broken hopes and unfulfilled aspirations, which one of them is worse?

“... I made a deal with him.” Instead of trying to repeat it, he just plays it back, his own voice slightly cracklier than usual as if it’s playing back from a phonograph record: “*I swear I will never knowingly and deliberately or callously break your heart; and I swear that if I do ever leave, I’ll leave with kindness and honesty; and I swear I’ll never betray you like I did the Sir Pentious of my universe; or I forfeit my soul and all those I have to you.*”

He looks at Valera. “As far as you can think of—is there no possible way for me to do this without violating all three of those?”

Valera

Valera pauses, rolling the terms over in her mind. "You could tell him you can't be with him anymore because you realized your goals are incompatible. That would be a _kindness._ You would be leaving with honesty. Your goals _are_ incompatible."

Alastor

Nods, he accepts that. There are ways he could be honest without telling too much of the truth. Debatable on the idea that he’d be leaving with kindness, but he’s willing to let that sit for the moment. “The other two, then. I wouldn’t be knowingly and *deliberately* breaking his heart, since breaking it is just a side effect instead of my goal; but it would be knowingly and *callously.*”

Valera

"Is it callous, to try and spare him from further harm by stepping away? Because that's what you'd be doing, I imagine."

She leans back into the cushions of the couch, tapping her chin. "_Knowingly_ breaking his heart is the real issue. You've essentially _trapped_ yourself in the relationship. You can't leave while he has feelings for you, no matter how kind and honest you are, because you'll break his heart doing it."

Alastor

“I was damn careful with my wording to make sure I wouldn’t be trapped.” He shakes his head. “That’s why it has to be both. Knowingly-*and*-deliberately or knowingly-*and*-callously. If I know it will break his heart, but the heartbreak isn’t deliberate or callous, it’s legal.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’m *not* trying to spare him harm by stepping away. I’m trying to... disappear, to undo a prior betrayal; and, in the process, I’d be knowingly adding to the parade of people who have promised him the world and then ripped it away—and—and I’d be doing untold damage to his ability to follow his ambitions.” He clears his throat, his voice is starting to sound a little hoarse. “He wouldn’t be spared harm. Knowing the extent of the damage, I—there’s—there’d be no way to proceed without callousness. Would there.”

Valera

Valera has an argument already half formed, but stops. Cocks her head to one side. Why the FUCK would she try to convince him around to her side. This was basically a get out of jail free card. Her perspective didn't matter here, it was *his* contract.

"Y-yeah. If that's the way you interpret your contract, you're well and truly stuck."

Alastor

His shoulders slump, the tension draining out of them all at once. "So that's that? It's undoable." If he can't think of a way and Valera can't think of a way...

Valera

She lifts a shaky mug to her lips, squeaking out what MIGHT be the affirmative. "Mm-Mm!"

Alastor

“All right. That’s that.”

He expects to feel... maybe relieved. Maybe resigned. Instead, what hits first is an unexpected wave of grief. He tries to disguise it by rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, as though he’s just tired. “So—“ Ahem. “So. You and I shook. If we can’t proceed, then what’s... How do we dissolve that?”

Valera

Valera frowns, fins drooping as she wavers. But no. This is for the best. "Well, how do *you* negate a deal that is no longer viable? All you need to do is say you've released me from the contract, on my end."

Alastor

“You’re released from the contract if I’m released from the contract.” He’s not *unilaterally* releasing somebody else from a contract, that’s just common sense.

Valera

Her eyes are ROLLING. Of course, even now he's being difficult. "Well we shook on it. What does your magic need to terminate the agreement? Blood? Another handshake?"

Alastor

"For you to agree to the same out loud." It's not THAT complicated; but a release from a contract has to be mutual. Otherwise anyone could cancel a contract at any time, and then where would the exploitative dealmakers of the world be?

Valera

"Alright. I release you from our contract under the same terms."

... She doesn't know why she always expects something dramatic to happen, it never does. At least she can lean back and sigh, now.

Alastor

If it helps, Alastor plays a little *ta-daaa* trumpet fanfare.

Valera

It helps, but also makes her primary heart clench. She didn't lie, but she wasn't honest. And it digs into her like a splinter.

A sigh. "Are you okay, Alastor? I know you wanted _very_ badly to help the Pentious of your Hell." That came out more gently than she'd intended, but she's too tired to try and force a casual demeanor right now. Deal with her concern.

Alastor

He's silent for a moment, then sighs and sort of shrugs and shakes his head at the same time. "It just puts me back where I was a few months ago. No great loss."

Valera

"Sure, but you got your hopes up, only for them to be dashed by a contract of your own design." She isn't going to comment on that being incredibly dumb. She isn't. But she's thinking it. Even though it worked out for her.

"I suppose that means you'll have to do things the old fashioned way if you want to make amends."

Alastor

"If the contract wasn't there, I would have had to *decide* which one of them I want to hurt. At least this way the choice is out of my hands. And it means the contract did its job, didn't it?"

He rubs his eyes. "Still. Having the end in sight, and then watching it disappear..."

Valera

Most people would be happy to live another day, but a man craving oblivion? Maybe not so much. She frowns.

"At least you've got Telly. That leaves your local Pentious still suffering. And lest we forget, I entered that contract wanting to help _him_. Still do."

Alastor

And there is nothing he wants more than to go home, curl up in Telly's coils, and not come out for a week. He nods. "I know."

Valera

A low sigh. She could WANT to help, but she couldn't really *do* much. "Well. I suppose there's nothing to be done, at least not now."

Alastor

"I suppose not. Maybe another time." It's hard to even think about an alternative plan right now. How can he even consider a plan that doesn't involve completely erasing all of his mistakes in one fell swoop? What's the *point*?

Valera

"Another time? Yes, absolutely. The politician in me already has five concepts to workshop with my imaginary team. But I am tired, and nauseous, and I want to go hide against either Leal or Penny, whichever lucky man I find first."

Alastor

"Cheers to *that.*" He limply picks up his almost-empty coffee mug. "I think I'll be following your lead." Now that for the first time he HAS someone to hide against.

Valera

She waves her tea at him in what could pass as a pale imitation of a toast, slamming back the rest of her drink like a shot. "At least that's one thing we get out of *love*. Somebody willing to let us use them as *emotional support*."

Alastor

That feels like an attack. Why does that feel like an attack? "Or a warm pillow." He finishes his coffee and stands. "Well, that didn't quite go the way I wanted it to. But thank you for the introduction." He nods toward the egg. "And I suppose I'll see you at work tomorrow?" Remember that part? After all this, they've got JOBS they've gotta go to tomorrow? Harrowing.

Valera

She opens her mouth to remind him that she and Penny are both coldblooded, but then remembers that Leal is a furnace on legs, and just nods instead. "It was... Well. Parts of this visit were fun. I'll see you tomorrow, Alastor. And I'll remember to talk to my beau about your role in Eelizzy's life." Thumbs up.

Alastor

Listen, Alastor's spent the past few decades crying himself to sleep on a pillow with a faux snakeskin pillowcase. Who wants to argue with him if he says he feels warmer when he's wrapped around Telly.

His expression brightens a little bit. "I'd appreciate it."

Valera

She wheezes out a breathy laugh as she stands, smoothing her dress over her stomach. "Hey. I know this was rough, and I wish our talks didn't always end so stressfully, but I do think you'll be a fantastic uncle. With allowances for Penny and Leal, there's nobody I'd trust more to make sure my daughter was cared for if something happened to me. And I mean it."

A flick of a wrist, and a familiar portal opens in the wall, the Hotel's lobby visible through a shimmery haze. It could have gone worse, all things considered.

Alastor

"I doubt we'll need to have any other conversations on this. It's not like we have anything else to discuss on the topic." A crooked smile, but a slightly pained one. "Just let me know when the first PTA meeting is!" And out he goes.

Valera

[[ NOT LIKE SHE CAN DUMP HIM ON TELLY'S SHIP BUT SHE *WISHES*

Alastor

((He's gonna be teleporting himself STRAIGHT to Telly's ship anyway))

#((warning for suicidal ideation. ... this thread went some places ok))#autokrates #chat log

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chwrpg · 4 years ago

Text

I burn! I pine! I perish! -- Cohen James

A NOTE FROM ADMIN B: Please welcome to the stage, Ash and New Calvin! (Sometimes I can still hear old Calvin’s voice....) I think it’ll be fun to see a new take on a character that has been a staple in Rosewood since day one, and we all know you can DELIVER so I can’t wait to see my new son on the dash!!!

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE:

Ash Thee Butch Queen, she/her, nice try, satan, EST

DESIRED CHARACTER:

Cohen James

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE?

Hella to Kinda

SECONDARY CHOICE:

Omg, no

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER:

Cohen is a guy who is always thinking on both a big picture level and about the small things, and he knows that about himself so to offset that, he often does the impulsive thing - not because it comes naturally to him, but because he doesn’t ever want to overthink something so much that he’s paralyzed. He’s a free spirit and passionate to boot, so being stuck in any sense of the word didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. For the most part Cohen likes to think the best of people, giving them a lot of grace; some people only gave you once chance to make a good impression, but Cohen was often known to give second and thirds because he’s more likely to think of a glass half full than half empty. He’s grateful for his lot in life, well aware that he and his family had more money than any of them could spend in a lifetime, but he refuses to bury his head in the sand just because he was born wealthy in regards to the world around him. His heart is big and he shows it any way he knows how, and sometimes that means giving money to a person or cause without a second thought, but he also gives his time to do his part to leave the world a little better than he found it. Because of his impulse, he doesn’t always make the best decisions the first time around, but he’ll always try to right his own wrongs. In other words, his moral compass has known to get out of whack every now and then, but he wasn’t to proud to course correct.

SAMPLE WRITING:

The first time Cohen ran into Birdie, he literally ran into her. It was his first night in town and his cousin Cal along with Calvin’s best friend went to a bar called the Coyote Ugly in celebration of not only Cohen arriving, but also part of an apparently week long send off for his cousin who was shipping out for another 4 year bid in the USMC. He’d been in Rosewood in less than a day, and the bar that night was the first thing to really impress him despite both his cousin and friend going on and on about how much Cohen was going to love it here eventually. He didn’t know how much he believed that he’d find himself in Illinois of all places, but he was at least making himself be open to it

He was seven or 8 shots deep, jumping around on the dance floor with a group of people from some frat that despite the guys yelling it a lot, Cohen couldn’t remember when he declared loudly that he was getting the next round for everyone.

Spilling a girl’s drink wasn’t the most original meet cute, but Cohen figured it was okay since Birdie didn’t find it that cute anyway. Or rather, at all. His first glimpse of the aforementioned angel was that of an angel of fury, “Shit I’m sorry.” He told her after colliding with her, the girl leaving the bar just as he was approaching it. “Let me buy—” He looked up to see Birdie in her full annoyed glory and it was like he’d gotten hit by a 18-wheeler despite him being the one who did the colliding. ‘You should be!…’ she tore into him, really let him have it, but she at least let him get her another drink for not only her but the three friends she’d apparently come with, “Listen I’m new in town and I was wondering what you would think about you maybe showing me around? I’m Cohen.” Birdie snorted, and Cohen couldn’t decide if the face she was making while she looked him over was one of her being impressed by his nerve or off put. Either way liquid courage was a hell of a thing, and Cohen stood there with what he thought was a charming lopsided smile, but in all likelihood didn’t land the way he thought it did. 'I think I’d rather consume the drinks you spilled off off the ground. Watch where you’re going, Cohen.’ She breezed by him, and sure, getting rejected stung, but for some reason that he couldn’t and didn’t care to decipher, he wasn’t deterred – he just had a feeling that he’d see her again and when he did, he’d win her over for sure.

___

The next time he saw her, he was at the campus book store. He had a list of books he was needing for his classes, and had acquired all but one. It seemed luck was on his side though because the book store had exactly one copy left and it was all his. He decided to stick around for a bit, settling in to an empty table near the service desk while he scrolled through his instagram feed and he figured out how he wanted to spend the rest of his day. What had to be no more than 15 minutes later, a familiar, exasperated voice of an angel came from the very same service desk he’d been at. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but in his defense, if he hadn’t then how would he have known that the universe was giving him a second chance at a first impression? Because as luck would have it, the book she needed was the book he’d bought.

He went back and forth with himself on if he should approach her, but his legs made their mind up before his brain could when he saw her about to leave. “Hey, wait up.” He said, practically sprinting to catch up to her and cut her off before she left, 'Are you stalking me or something? I carry pepper spray and I’m not in the mood’. “What? No, wow, straight to stalking, huh? No I go here.” He pointed to his new badge, on a Red and yellow 'The Flash’ lanyard around his neck. “I was picking up books but I think it’s a good thing I am here because ta-da.” He told her, presenting her the French book in question, “I bought the last copy a little while ago.”

'Of course, because life isn’t already unfair enough’ She muttered,

“Come on, you gotta think good thoughts, here. Today is both our lucky days. You get this book and I get to see you again. Take it.” He told her and she looked at him suspiciously.

'You want me to take it? What’s the catch?’ Birdie asked, eyes narrowed in his direction. She was highly suspicious of him, obviously, but he knew he could turn it around, he just needed a chance, and the fact that they’d run into each other wasn’t exactly one in a million, (the town was only so big, let alone the student population), but them being there on the same day in the same time frame was enough to think that he was given a second chance to make a good first impression for a reason. After all, Cohen had met plenty of girls, but none of them had had the instant effect on him that Birdie had - it was like Cupid shot him with an arrow or something. “No catch.”

'No catch?’ She parroted suspiciously,

“Okay well one catch. You give me another shot at meeting you.”

She scoffed,

“Look I probably came off as a tool like Peter Quill levels of douche bag that night, but I was really drunk, my cousin and his friend wanted to show me the town. And I know that maybe when I’m drunk and think I’m being charming I’m really being obnoxious, but believe or not, I don’t actually suck. My mom thinks I’m the coolest.” He gave Birdie a hopeful smile, but she didn’t answer. It did, however look like she was contemplating, so he took that and ran with it, almost literally, making a b-line for the outside. And as soon as he was out of the door he came back in and walked up to Birdie, running his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face, “Hey, I’m Cohen and I don’t know if you believe in fate or not, but I just have this crazy feeling that this book should belong with you and not me…” He once again held it out to her and reluctantly, she took it. Even more reluctantly, Cohen got a smile out of her after the 10th guarantee that there were no strings attached.

He could have ended the interaction there, but he tempted fate, asking Birdie out to dinner. She said no, but the way she’d said 'nice try, though’ wasn’t exactly discouraging.

___

He’d seen Birdie around a few times after that, but Cohen figured that there was a thin line between being charmingly persistent, and a creeper straight out of r/letsnotmeet, so he hadn’t approached her on any of those occasions. Besides, between school, being shown the ropes at HearstCorp, and still carving out time to do his own thing, Cohen had plenty of things to keep him occupied. And so what if he got a glimpse of the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen every now and then that made his stomach morph into a pit of hungry moths? Plenty of people had pretty eyes, and a pretty frame that Cohen was convinced would fit perfectly with his own, pssh - he had a crush but he wasn’t Joe Goldberg.

So the next time he’d spoken to Birdie, it was because she approached him, not the other way around.

He hadn’t come to Rosewood with much in the way of clothing, figuring he could just pick up whatever he needed, and what he needed that day was not only a tux, but several business suits.

Cohen didn’t think it was needed, but there was a gala that his grandfather was putting on essentially announcing Cohen’s intent to one day take his grandfather’s place at the head of the company. It sounded like a whole lot of pomp and circumstance, but the excitement in which his grandparents spoke about it, made it impossible for him to shoot the notion down, (the way they talked about galas gave Cohen the inkling that they were like their Coachella) hence why he found himself at one of the upscale tailor’s on Rosewood’s main street.

'Cody’? It wasn’t his name, so while he’d heard it somewhere in the back of his mind, Cohen paid it no mind and continued on with his mirror selfies, waiting for the tailor to get back with his measurements and proposed alterations.

'Cody!’ The voice registered that time, and Cohen whipped his head around to see Birdie, “It’s…Cohen, you didn’t remember my name?”

'Cohen, right. Sorry’. Well that sucked, but she at least genuinely looked as if she’d regretted the faux pas. 'You clean up nice’.

He could feel a blush creeping up his neck as he watched her eyes roam over him; it more than made up for Cody, 'Is that Tom Ford?’

“Uhhh… yeah totally. Maybe, I don’t know. I liked the way the jacket looked. It gives me Bruce Wayne vibes, right? You really think it looks good? I have to go to this gala thing and I didn’t have anything to wear so my grandpa told me this was the place I wanted to be. Everybody’s real nice so I’m not mad at it. What are you doing here though?” He asked innocently, and it wasn’t lost on him that she didn’t answer his question, but he didn’t call her out - it was a little weird, but she was curious about him so he wasn’t going to mess that up…on purpose

'Gala, what gala? I’m pretty much up on every social function and there’s no gala on the calendar for at least the next three months.’

“I think invitations are going out today. It’s kind of for me technically. My grandpa’s just kind of stoked on me working with him on like some family business vibes so it’s gonna be a whole bunch of people who are really happy for me or maybe hate me who I have no idea who they are”. He chuckled, sending a sparkling, soft smile in Birdie’s direction.

He couldn’t exactly get a beat on what she thinking in her head; was he talking too much? Did he seem braggy? He didn’t want to seem braggy. Braggy was the worst.. Luckily, the tailor came back, and after a quick conversation, Cohen told the guy that he’d take the tux as well as the suits he’d picked out earlier. He pulled his wallet out and handed over a black card, polite to the tailor, but wanting to get back to his conversation with Birdie, “So anyw—”

'what kind of business does your family do?’ Birdie asked, and Cohen answered, “Publishing and media pretty much. It’s not all that interesting. Hey, so crazy idea and I swear it’s not me asking you on a date, but since you know so much about galas, maybe you’d want to come? No pressure if you don’t, it’s just I won’t know like 95% of the people there and you’d probably be helping me not chop my arm off just so I wouldn’t have to shake anymore hands.” He moved his arm up and down, and damn if he didn’t feel like a goddamn superhero for making Birdie laugh.

Things were going so well, so of course they had to be interrupted; this time by Birdie’s phone ringing. She took a look at her phone, muttered 'shit’, then focused her attention back to Cohen, her braids whipping around from the motion in a way that for sure wasn’t going to be a thing he thought about all the way home.

'Mmm, maybe. I’ll think about it. I’ve got to go though. See you later, Cohen.’

“Later days!” He called back when she was already just about out of the door, “Later days? What was that?” He berated himself only for his own phone to ping with a notification, and when he pulled it out of his pocket he saw 'From Instagram: Birdie Stratford started following you’

He spun in place, then gave his reflection a wink and the gun, powered by nothing less than pure elation, “Whooo I’m in the game, baybeee! Bruce Wayne who?”

ANYTHING ELSE?

Bro, why is this shit so long? Good luck reading through this BS. You should have never called me a fatass kelly price. 1985 or whatever.

#accepted #submission

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slash-em-up · 5 years ago

Text

On the Care and Feeding of Tiny Humans: The Collector/Laid to Rest Crossover

This is all fluff - very OOC, and only semi-ties in to my other Collector and L2R stories. Written to make you feel better on a sad day.

——————————————————————

“Why do the butterflies run into the light like that?”

“What?”

“The butterflies! They keep hitting the light! Why do they do that?”

“... those aren’t butterflies, Addy. They’re Quaker moths.”

“... Oh.”

“Dr. Asa, why do the cracker moths run into the light?”

Asa sighed. This was not at all how he’d been wanting to spend his weekend.

The tiny girl sitting next to him looked up expectantly. Her blonde curls gently fluffed in the warm summer breeze as her feet swung back and forth under Asa’s porch swing.

Addy had come to be in his care under completely unexpected circumstances. She was the child of an... associate of Asa’s named Jesse Cromeans.

Jesse went by the moniker ChromeSkull among some of the bloodier channels; but he had somehow managed to fit a wife (now deceased) and child into his life.

Asa couldn’t understand why or how on multiple levels, but thankfully that wasn’t his problem... until now.

Jesse has run afoul of a particularly rough branch of mafiosos in his day-time business dealings, and they’d brazenly grabbed Addy as leverage.

Thankfully (not in Asa’s opinion), they’d chosen to hold Addy in Illinois, taking her across the country from her father and his corporation and squarely into Asa’s hunting grounds.

One supposedly abandoned warehouse, several highly lethal traps, and a boatload of blood later found Asa confronted by a tiny waifish girl saying he ‘looked just like her daddy’s friend!’ and running at him full speed for a hug.

Highly suspicious and not quite willing to give up a potential catch, Asa had sent a quick text to Jesse.

A: You’re not missing your toddler are you?

Jesse responded almost immediately.

J: Where the fuck are you???

A: Ilinois where do you think?

J: You have Addy?

Asa snapped a quick pic of Addy and sent it off with a ‘whoosh’.

A: I think this is yours, right?

J: Yes, is she hurt??

A: Not as far as I can see.

J: My plane is already on standby, I’ll be there in five hours.

A: But what do I - LOW POWER, PLEASE PLUG IN YOUR PHONE

‘Fuck.’

Asa’s phone died. In his hour of need.

His hand tightened around the plastic body, ready to throw or crush it when Addy drew his attention once more.

The small girl was inspecting one of the AR-15s the mafia thugs had been carrying before they expired.

Not an expert on children by any means, even Asa could infer that Jesse would probably not be pleased if his offspring was killed by a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Moving purposefully across the floor, Asa snatched the rifle from Addy’s small, pale hands.

“No guns. Don’t touch anything. Your father is coming to get you.”

Momentarily looking put-out that her toy was taken away, Addy perked up at this news.

“Daddy? Oh thank you Mr. Collector!”

Asa held out his arms to avoid another hug from the affectionate girl.

“Don’t call me that. You can call me Dr. Emory or Mr. Emory.... or Asa I suppose; but I prefer Dr. Emory.”

Addy took a moment to digest this new information before blasting Asa with a sunny smile.

“Ok Dr. Asa!”

Another sigh. This looked like it was going to be a long night.

—————————————————————

Burkhard and Hellstrom were both going to the pound first thing in the morning.

Asa seethed internally as his prize German Shepherds crawled and whined like lap dogs as Addy handed out kisses and belly rubs with alacrity.

Hellstrom licked furiously at the little girls face, causing her to shriek with laughter.

“Silly Helly!! Stop that!!”

Not to be outdone, Burkhard joined in the fun, lapping at the girls hands and neck until she toppled over onto the living room rug.

That’s about enough of that.

“Hellstrom, Burkhard. Home!” Asa snapped, walking forward. He was more than ready for this nonsense to be over.

As the dogs skittered through the house to their kennel, Addy righted herself and stood, grabbing Asa’s pant leg for leverage.

A gurgle interrupted anything either might have said.

Addy looked down at her dusty dress, holding her small hands to her stomach.

“Dr. Asa, I’m hungry.”

The tall man stiffened. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid.

He glanced despairingly at the clock – another 3 hours at least until Jesse arrived to pick up his spawn.

“… are you sure?”

Addy nodded frantically, pouting as her tummy let out another loud rumble.

“… what do you eat?”

The blonde child cocked her head, thinking hard for a second before answering.

“Well sometimes I get to eat Cap’n Crunch, but that’s only in the mornings, and sometimes my nanny makes me french toasties; but those are only yummy with syrup… oh, and daddy makes really gooey mac-n-cheese. He always puts peas in it though. He says they’re good for me. Can you make mac-n-cheese?”

Asa blanched but kept his expression neutral.

“Maybe. Let’s go see.”

——————————————————————

As it turns out, Asa could not make mac-n-cheese – at least, not by Addy’s estimation.

The child sat on a chair next to him, watching ingredients go into the pot, and he was reminded of a particularly picky professor from his years in grad school who would stand and critique every analysis he made.

“Daddy doesn’t put that in there…”

Asa pursed his lips in annoyance.

“Well I’m not your daddy, and I do.”

Addy pouted once more and crossed her tiny arms across her chest.

“Can I play with the puppies again?”

“Not until after dinner.”

“Why do you have so many bugs in your house? Nanny says that only dirty houses have bugs.”

“I’m an entomologist. They’re specimens.”

“… what’s an entomomogist?”

“… *sigh* I’m a bug doctor.”

Addy’s eyes grew wide in awe at Asa’s statement.

“A bug doctor? But bugs don’t talk! How do they tell you they’re sick?”

“…You’ll find out when you’re older.”

That was something people said to kids, right?

Nodding sagely, Addy seemed content to accept this answer. Relief spread through Asa and he offered the girl a slight smile as he dished up two plates of his concoction.

Once they were seated at the table, Asa immediately began to eat, expecting no interruptions now that Addy had food in front of her.

A tap on his shoulder proved him wrong once again.

Addy had turned herself to face him and held a spoonful of steaming noodles up towards his face expectantly.

Asa quirked a brow.

“What do you want?”

“It’s too hot.”

“Then wait for it to cool down.”

“Can you blow on it?”

His mouth worked up and down stupidly at the inquiry, quite unprepared to be asked something like that.

Asa hesitantly pursed his lips and blew a stream of air onto the spoon, watching the steam waft off into the ether.

“Thank you, Dr. Asa.”

Addy smiled sweetly, stuck the large spoon into her mouth, and immediately lost half her food onto her skirt.

————————————————————

Addy was curled up fast asleep on the large leather couch when Jesse’s car screeched into the driveway.

The tall man was out of the vehicle and up the porch steps by the time Asa opened the door. Jesse muscled past him, striding quickly over to his daughter and kneeling by her side.

His hand stretched out and gently shook Addy’s shoulder, making the girl moan in annoyance.

The annoyance turned to ecstatic joy as her eyes slid open and saw her fathers face in front of her.

“Daddy!”

Jesse’s arms were immediately wrapped around his child as she flung herself up into his strong grip.

As she was held, Addy launched into her tales of adventure. From being taken by the ‘bad men’ away from her school, to meeting ‘Dr. Asa’, to petting Burkhard and Hellstrom and even Petunia ‘the nicest spider in the world!’.

“Daddy, can I have a tarantula?”

Jesse’s shoulders shook in relieved laughter as he nodded.

Asa stood in the doorway, leaning casually and observing the pair’s reunion. He didn’t feel much besides relief that Addy would soon be out of his hair.

He suspected the fact that the sweet scene inspired so little in him could be chalked up to his general disengagement from most of what people would consider ‘normal’ emotions. And on top of that seeing a parent and child embrace so freely and obviously affectionately was foreign from an experiential level as well for Asa – big thanks to mother and father for that.

But oh well, he supposed if pressed, he’d admit Addy had only been mildly annoying, which was far better than he’d anticipated. She’d even liked Petunia, which was a mark in her favor. He’d have to send Jesse a list of things they’d need in the house if Addy really wanted her own spider.

His mental list-making was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

Jesse stood behind him – towering over Asa as he always did; but his usual intimidating demeanor was neutered by the small blonde girl clinging happily to his shoulder.

Jesse quickly signed to Asa:

‘Thank you. I know you don’t understand this but you’ve done me a great service. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.’

Asa nodded in acknowledgment, mouth twitching as Jesse slapped him on the shoulder.

“Bye Dr. Asa! Give Helly, Burky, and Petunia kisses from me!”

Jesse’s mouth pressed into a thin line, testing the limits of his fortitude to suppress a smile at his daughters request.

Asa sighed for what he hoped would be the last time that evening.

“Goodbye Addy.”

Jesse nodded his goodbye and stepped out the door to his car, buckling Addy into the backseat before starting the car and speeding off into the night.

Asa watched from his porch until the cars tail lights were no longer visible.

Closing his door, he turned and surveyed the room – seeing the rumpled blanket and pillows he’d wrapped Addy in; the dirty dishes; the paper spread across the floor and covered in childish scribbles – and decided that for once cleanup could wait until the morning.

#jessica writes #the collector #slasher fiction #asa emory #asa emory & addy cromeans (NOT SHIP)#jesse cromeans #chromeskull #the collector 2009 #the collection 2012 #laid to rest #laid to rest 2

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acuppellarp · 6 years ago

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We’re excited to announce that Leigh has decided to level up Lola Alvarez from a mumu minor character to a main character! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Leigh, she/her Age: 26 Timezone: EST Ships: Lola/Chemistry Anti-Ships: Lola/No Chemistry

IC INFO

Full Name: Louisa Cristina “Lola” Alvarez Face Claim: Lauren Jauregui Age/Birthday: April 11th (Aries mood), 24 Occupation: Model/make-up artist/burlesque dancer/photographer Personality: enigmatic, magnetic, confident, lonely, passionate Hometown: Brooklyn, NY Bio:

[DEATH TW]

Louisa doesn’t talk about her birth parents, simply because there’s nothing to talk about. Her father, she can assume, was never really in the picture, and her mother left her on the stoop of a fire department in the 99th precinct of New York City, so it’s not as if she cared. Louisa rarely thinks about her birth parents, if at all. The truth was, Consuelo Migdas was sixteen when she gave birth to Louisa, and wasn’t ready to have a family. She had hoped that by putting her daughter up for adoption, she’d be put into a good home.

It took twelve years for Louisa to be adopted. Twelve years for the world to show Louisa its cold nature. By the time she turned ten, Louisa had been carted to four different foster homes. Every time it looked like there was a promise of someone wanting to take her home, she ended up being returned like a blouse that didn’t fit quite right. Louisa quickly began losing hope that anybody would keep her for good. She’d be stuck in the foster system until she was eighteen years old, and then she’d become a ward of the state. She’d have to fend for herself in the extremely cruel city of New York.

If you asked her now, she’d tell you that it could have been much worse, but that’s very much in line with Louisa’s character. She’s not dramatic in that way. She’ll downplay anything to make you think she hasn’t suffered, she’s perfectly fine. But truthfully? Not having the unconditional love of a family had more of an impact on her than she’d ever care to admit. Louisa was awful in school– on the days she came in and wasn’t starving, she found that it was tough for her to concentrate. Numbers and words didn’t make sense. Once, as a Christmas gift, she was given a book from one of her teachers: Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. Louisa loved that they had the same name, and she loved the idea of growing up with four sisters who loved her and a mother who would do anything for her. All she wanted was a stable, consistent life.

Louisa found that she loved art from the very beginning, and would lose herself in drawings. She loved to play dress up. She liked to take things, too. It started small, like a pack of gum or a candy bar. Nobody was any the wiser, and Louisa would never steal from the same place twice. She would steal art supplies from her school and only got caught once. Crying, she explained to her teacher that she only wanted to be able to draw at home. Three days later, she was gifted a beautiful set of over a hundred colored pencils. Every hue and shade Louisa could possibly imagine was in that set. She saved the nubs of those pencils and strung them together to make a necklace. It serves as a reminder for her– how far she’s come, and how much farther she has to go.

Things changed rapidly for the better when Mimi adopted her. At least, that’s how she introduced herself to Louisa: “I’m going to be your Mimi and we’re going to be very happy together.” It took Louisa a solid three months to believe her. If she could last longer than three months, that would be all. But Mimi showed her a home that was full of love, and a place where she was accepted. She had dinner every night, she had a quiet, cozy place to read her favorite book, and Mimi made sure she did all of her homework instead of roaming the streets.

It was when she was thirteen that she started going by Lola, if only because that’s what Mimi called her. When she asked why, Mimi would start singing the song from Damn Yankees– whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. And honestly, Lola wasn’t used to being spoiled. She wasn’t used to someone loving her. She wasn’t used to a real home.

When she applied to FIT, she put the design on the side and instead chose to focus on the modeling aspect. She got her degree, fine, but found herself loving the idea of being someone’s muse. Someone’s obsession. Someone’s love. Lola began to become heavily involved in making her own clothing, with the sewing machine that had been passed down from Mimi’s dressmaking mother right into Lola’s greedy little hands. It cost them a fortune to send her to college, but Mimi swore Lola was going to be on the cover every fashion magazine someday. Lola assured Mimi that she was too short, and focused on building a following via social media, something that she keeps up with today.

Lola’s life couldn’t be without one more tragedy, though. Mimi was cleaning the floor of their apartment in Brooklyn when she slipped on a puddle and hit her head. The injury resulted in dementia-like symptoms, not uncommon in Mimi’s age. After calling emergency services, Lola was told that there was nothing more that the doctors could do. Mimi was transferred to a care facility in Queens, and Lola visits her as faithfully as she can. Mimi is lucid sometimes, but often has no idea who Lola is other than the nice girl who visits her and sketches her.

Mimi’s current state has broken Lola’s heart. She’s picked up a few random jobs trying to make some extra cash– including dancing at a burlesque club (she insists it’s for the glamor of it all, but it’s mostly because she likes the attention), modeling for a series of painting classes (again, Lola likes attention), and working as a make-up artist. All the money she makes goes to pay for Mimi’s care, and to keep her room full of fresh flowers. Lola feels lost, understandably so, which is why she’s been so happy to join April’s Growers. It’s given her a new sense of purpose, even if sometimes she’s still kind of sad. Lola is doing the best that she can to juggle her odd jobs, her newfound roommates, her beloved mother, and pursuing what she loves.

Pets: Lola recently rescued a French bulldog puppy named Donatella, who she loves more than life itself. Relationships:

[WANTED CONNECTIONS: Roommate for Nicola & Kitty, April’s Grower]

Santana Lopez

All things considered, they should be rivals– they’re both Latinas who can sing, they’re both drop dead gorgeous, and they usually go for the same modeling gigs– but Lola and Santana have somehow managed to become friends. It also doesn’t hurt that they’re now prone to admire each other’s beauty as often as they can in someone’s bedroom.

Reggie Clifton

Ah, how does Lola even begin to describe Reggie Clifton? They met at a rally in the city more than a year ago, which is only too fitting for the both of them. Lola fell for Reggie and she fell very hard. They flirted, they messed around a lot, and when they admitted that they had feelings for each other, it was peppered with the worst thing Lola’s ever heard: I like you, but I don’t want to be in a relationship with you. Reggie, apparently, wasn’t ready, and Lola took her broken heart all the way back to Brooklyn and away from Acup. She’s come back around, though, and Lola is wasting no time in showing Reggie what she passed up.

X Scott

X and Lola have a really beautiful relationship, based on a mutual love of art. Lola has become something of a muse to X, and she’s always willing to pose for a photo or painting. They’re very much kindred spirits and Lola would go to the ends of the earth for X.

Nicola De Rocha & Kitty Wilde

Her roommates, but also her best friends. She’s only moved in with them recently, after Mimi’s death. Her Brooklyn home got to be too quiet, and Lola loves their chatter. Lola thinks of them as three larger-than-life personalities who could gossip until the sun comes up. She’s not so subtly hinting to Kitty that she wants to shoot at Vogue, and always dropping her wishlist to Nicola. She loves her roommates and would do anything for them.

EXTRA INFO

lola/lolalvarez/description: some women fear the fire. some women simply become it.

Five latest tweets:

@lolalvarez: @PamelaLansbury if y'all decide that the internal dating becomes to be too much and you need a new member, my door is open #justsaying @lolalvarez: I posted a makeup tutorial from my latest photoshoot on Instagram, please continue to @ me and tell me how pretty I am. @lolalvarez: DO YOU WANT TO SEE A PICTURE OF MY DOG? @donatellanotversace @lolalvarez: I could go to Central Park, or I could binge ANTM. Or, I could order Insomnia cookies #3amthoughtswithLola @lolalvarez: @nicoladerocha @awildecard Tell me I’m pretty.

#accepted #acup: level up

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pass3rby · 6 years ago

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Caught By Your Past

25th Part

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Pairing: Altair x Malik Warnings: modern AU, mature, OOC, original female character; unbetaed.

A/N: Good morning, San Francisco (or any other city of your choice for that matter)! Let's kick the day up, shall we?

She was on her way back home from campus when her phone went off. Having to fish it out of the tangle in her bag – USB cable, flash disc, second one, tissues, earbuds, lipstick – almost made her regret her habit of towing around the whole tech station and then some. Almost. She stumbled across her phone soon enough and the thoughts of getting rid of all those things first thing after stepping over the flat's threshold, disappeared again.

Checking the display, she gave a dejected sigh before accepting the call.

“Yeah?” So maybe her tone held a bit of a fake cheer, but there was no need to ruin someone else's mood, was there.

“There's this place I've heard is pretty rad!”

She figured as much; an eagerness to check out new places was a well-known trait of her friend. Trademark, barely restrained excitement in Mary's voice hit her full blast and really, was she ever void of energy? Gie was yet to see her anywhere near depleted. It would feel so good to talk with someone of a similar exhaustion level to her own. Maybe she could call Evie... Jacob's a pain in his sister's ass, too. That might work.

“Enjoy,” keeping up with the current conversation, she went with a sudden spur of a moment and entered a convenience store she was about to pass by. Time to treat herself; who knows how it'll look at home when she gets there. While choosing a thoroughly inappropriate late snack, she might as well listen to Mary, gushing over this new hot spot.

With luck, she only wanted to spill the beans and details about the new place and that would be the end of it. Gie was out for count as it was, just happy to drag herself to bed. Normally, she would welcome an opportunity to go out, but the constant hot & cold vibes coming from an unnamed pair of lost cases was starting to take its toll on her. Just as she was leaving for today's lessons, she heard them yelling again. And although staying out would keep her away from that for a little bit, she was ripe for a generous hibernation, not an evening out.

“You have to come with us!”

So, Mary was gathering a crew for the night out. Gie went with a neutral response, while absentmindedly checking one of the apples on sale:

“Sounds amazing-”

“I thought so, too! Pretty sweet. It's in a nice part of the city, too. Kinda dingy street, but it's not like we're gonna get jumped there.” True social life enthusiast that her classmate was, her mouth went two hundred miles per hour already, not even waiting for the explanative part of Gie's negative response. Also, no to that apple. Neither unhealthy, nor with enough chocolate percentage in it.

Tough luck today, buddy.

Skirting the whole fruit & vegetables section, she dived further to the more sin enabling and supplying section of the store.

“Altair and Malik are at each other's throat again.” There. At least she could make use of Mary knowing about the situation. Saves loads of time otherwise spent by a lengthy explanation. Maybe she won't even need to ring Evie up, after all.

Her friend, being a trooper, jumped promptly over onto the new topic like a pro.

“Thought you said neither of them is Spanish. Or French.”

“They're not, smartass,” and that chocolate looked tempting. She wasn't going to lower herself to buying an ice cream bucket, but that extra large hazelnut milk chocolate bar had her name on its wrapping. “You met them both to know that yourself.”

“So what's the deal?” Mary's voice was intent on the topic, fully focused like she always was with everything she decided to participate in. A good friend although and at the same time because of her brazen attitude, right there.

Okay, chocolate. You're coming with me. Do not resist and I won't be forced to use handcuffs on you.

Apprehending the criminal, she turned on her heel to go fetch something to drink, too – before re-turning around to grab a second bar. Just in case.

“I don't know. I mean, they are sorta... all-or-nothing kind of deal?”

“So, they either fuck or hate each other.” The words coming from the phone stayed true to its owner's spirit – no beating around the bush, they mowed the topic right over.

A vivid memory of mum threatening to wash her mouth with soap whenever she 'slipped', popped up in her mind. Mary wouldn't've last one day visit at their house without frothing at the mouth – one way or another. Funny thought right there.

“Pretty much. Without the-”

“-fucking. Yadda yadda yadda. I don't know if I should laugh at your brother or rethink my gender and step between them and wait which one would grab my ass first.”

“Mary!”

“What? They're attractive! Ten out of ten would tap that.”

Most of her friends did not miss the opportunity to tell her how dumb she was to let Altair go when their pack of she wolves was out last Friday. Mary'd just shrugged. 'Well at least you're out of competition if the guys ever changed their mind' – that're her exact words. While at least one of the girls would mean them, the free-spirited drinker had been quite obviously taking the piss. Like right now. Tough empathy – that's what Gie called it; Mary was the best.

Mood getting back on its feet, having shaken off the gloom, Georgie chuckled wryly and joined in the game.

“You'd stand no chance anyway. They wouldn't even notice you there.”

“That bad?”

“Their eyes are boning each other constantly, only their bodies resist the pull.” Now, that was a relief to say it out loud. Gie picked up a flavored green iced tea out of a refrigerator before making a bee-line to the cashier.

“Mindfucked too much?” It was hard to tell whether Mary was home already or not. While such generous use of foul language would usually point you somewhere 'safe to express yourself' if not in the home base direction outright, Mary was known to drop an F-bombs on a daily basis wherever. In the middle of the class wouldn't be her first time either. She lived closer to the campus, though.

“More like not enough.” Putting the handpicked items onto an empty space next to the register, she greeted the employee before refocusing back on Mary. Her answer must've betray a part of her previous dejected mood, because the response was instant and spot on.

“Damn. You're not coming, are you.”

“Not feeling it, I'm sorry.” There was no denying that she felt better now, but she'd still prefer to stay home tonight.

“Alright,” Her phone transported a heavily put-upon sigh right to her ear, “You're excused this once. If they drag you into their depressive circle of hell, though, I'm gonna come haunt their asses.” Fierce friends had certain perks.

“Or hunt.” Gie shot back good naturedly as she was getting through the payment procedure. That going off without a hitch, she was out of the store in no time.

“What do you know. It could bring the same results.”

“Despair?” It would be hard to miss her snicker. The door of the store closed behind her and she got back on her track leading home with renewed vigor, failsafe mechanism safely tucked in her bag.

“Ha ha. That's what I get for caring about you.”

But when the phone call ended ten minutes later, she wondered whether Mary will have to be taken up on her offer, if it'll really come to that. Will there be silence when she gets home? What sort of scene will greet her?[P1] To make the suddenly reinstated warzone even worse, the pair of undecisive fools was getting along pretty fine as of late.

Did Thor hit them with his hammer over their heads or something?

Now, arguments and bickering were a part of any relationship. Clashes were either handled or not and that was it; a 'make it or break it' sort of deal basically and again, a pretty standard one at that. These two? They had brought the art of disputes to a whole another level by the sheer amount of practice in pair. What was left there to argue about, though? She could swear that they've argued even about the water pressure in the shower already.

Taking a step back, maybe there was no need for them to make it official at all. They fought like a couple already, so there was a good chance that they had the partner software for encouraging staying together installed, too. But maybe not.

Them being as they are? Holding onto the remnants of their wild card statuses while also leaning over toward the other? It could bring literally anything. As of now, chaos and strangling of one another would be her bet on the most probable outcome, no matter what she really hoped for.

What truly boggled her mind was that the 'wild card' issue was more of Malik's signature there than Altair's. Sounding strange? Maybe because it was. If anything, you could always count on Malik being solid. As on him being a silent snide sniper. His words got the kill while his face might as well been cut from marble. That was his nature and it came with an objectively calm demeanor. All of that, her brother might rightfully pride himself for, because he perfected every single part of it to a state of art. Throwing him off, not to mention making his wall of tranquility crumble to dust wasn't an easy achievement.

Then Altair entered – or re-entered – the picture, turning out to be an equivalent to the proverbial fairy with a magical wand. 'Unusual' wouldn't even make the cut for an appropriate description of how out of character this was for her brother and still, the facts stood.

Not that she hadn't wondered about the strange enigma before; it only wasn't as important then as many other aspects that needed to be accounted for. But maybe it should have been. Altair's presence was undeniably toying with Malik on a full scale, so it was safe to assume that their whole relationship must've been even more complicated, elaborate or not, than she anticipated – and she gave a lot of room to possible variations of their history.

What was so bad about Altair that kept Malik doubtful?

Their personalities clashing could hardly be the reason – it obviously didn't matter even back in their heydays. Was he still hung up on the fact that she and Altair together were the plan A and the reason why the guy was here in the first place? Her brother could, indeed, hold a grudge. Was it the job? If so, then... Okay, it wasn't a traditional nine-to-five job where you are safely tucked in an office, she'd give Malik that. But Gie saw them together; this hesitating and dancing around each other would make sense only if they did not feel as strongly about each other anymore. To that, she called bullshit. She'd probably do the best to ask Altair about that when the soonest opportunity arises.

Using the key to their flat, she unlocked the door and nudged it ajar.

No sound.

Promising enough. Entering the flat, she put her bag on the bench right by the door.

Altair was passed out, half-lying behind the living room's low table, half-propped up on her beanbag in a position that suggested something was missing in the picture. The flat screen was still on, although only some commercial nonsense on low volume was taking up the screen there.

Before she could investigate the crime scene any further, different kind of muted noises caught her attention. They were coming from the direction corresponding with only one room in the apartment. That answered the question of where Malik disappeared to. Taking one deep breath for courage, she walked over to the kitchen.

“Hey.” Her greeting was on a cautious side of the spectrum, but nobody could blame her.

“Hey yourself,” Malik answered in kind readily enough if a bit distracted. Scanning what must've been instructions on a box of something presumably eventually edible, his attention taking its sweet time to shift onto her. Not that she minded; this wasn't bad compared to any kind of confrontation. She'd had it up to here of that.

“Coffee?” The offhand offer made its way to her, while Malik's eyes flicked back and forth between her and what appeared to be an instant version of Rubik's cube to him. An already made batch of coffee was the current main star of the kitchen counter. Steam coming from it declared that the beverage was fresh, too.

“Uh... I'll probably go with just tea? Thanks, though.” Perking up at that, he decidedly put the package back in the pantry, obviously finding the required amount of effort overly too much to bother with. It would also be Malik's attitude to food in general in a nutshell.

She was about to go over and set necessary things up to fix herself a cup, but Malik was one step ahead of her.

“The tests weren't bad then?” She watched as her brother proceeded to put water in the electric kettle before switching the thing on.

Oh.

“They were fine.” Since she had to wait for the water to boil, it was only sound logic to plop down on a chair – which was exactly what she did.

“Were they.”

“Stop it, you moron, you're not my parent.” Reminding him her adult status was a moot point now, but she did it anyway. Meanwhile, Malik poured himself a mugful of the steamy, tar black liquid, completely unperturbed.

“Look at the good news. The day's just gotten better for the both of us.” For all intents and purposes, his expectant look was interchangeable with the one of a hawk stalking its prey. She grudgingly conceded only because there was no other easy way of getting from under that type of scrutiny.

“I may not ace them both, but it wasn't as terrible as I expected. Professor de Sable took ill and our tests will be marked by a substitute teacher, so there's no way I'll get a bad mark on that one either.”

The nightmarish teacher had been picking on her ever since her first year of taking the course. She couldn't help but secretly think of his illness as a gift from above.

“I though you said you got a different lecturer already?” If Gie was ten years younger, she'd probably appreciate his brotherly frown much more. As it was, she could handle one numskull without any additional help.

“False alarm. That would be that substitute I've mentioned. Looks like the baldhead doesn't know when to-” Sensing warning in the air, she promptly changed the intended ending of her sentence:

“-leave the scene,” which was closely followed by a quietly mumbled “or kick the bucket” original version.

“You were saying?”

“I said that he apparently must've dig his heels in somehow.” Gie blatantly lied without an ounce of shame in her body.

The good thing about being raised into adulthood by a strict brother? He was still way more lenient than their parents would be. She held no hope of her brother believing that's what she really said, but he let her be anyway, because Malik himself thought that the guy was an asshole. But even better than that; any 'tight spots' like this one trained her in the façade game that Malik was a master of, too.

When he wanted to be, that is. Looking at him taking the box full of teabags in his hand, nose wrinkling in disgust, one wouldn't believe such a claim. If Malik could, he would hold that box like a bag full of dog presents, no doubt. Dork.

“Sheesh, you're a riot. Give me that,” Getting back on her feet, she stole the box which was offending her brother's sensibilities out of his grasp and fished out one teabag before storing the rest back in the cupboard. Right on time, the kettle switched off, too, so she threw the teabag inside an empty mug that Malik had left on the counter for that purpose exactly and poured hot over it straight away. Brimming with satisfaction, she looked over at Malik, who still did not bother to regain his stony decorum. As much as he was furrowing his brows, though, he was in a casual, laid-back mood.

“You should stop.” Still, his voice was as gruff as always. His nod towards her drink said all there was needed to decipher what he was referring to. She nonchalantly ignored the clue, pretending ignorance.

“With what?” She intentionally gave Malik an innocent look.

“Drinking that garbage.” As if she did not see that coming. The deadpan nag made her snicker for its utter uselessness. They had gone over this one thousand times already and yet, somehow, Malik never seemed to tire of it.

“You should stop,” she shot back to exact her revenge.

“With what?” Humoring her, he went along with the game, striking the familiar pose which included folded arms on his chest. His eyes were soft, though; contrary to their hard shine whenever adapting the posture in a serious conflict.

He probably expected her to say something along the lines of “nagging me about the tea” and to be fair, nobody could blame him for it since that was exactly what she wanted to go with. Initially. But a single, no matter how short, moment to rethink the opportunity was all it took to decide on a change. Biting on her lower lip, she went for it.

“Being so stubborn.” And she might as well ask for a sky to lean down and hand over some of its stars to her while she was at it. Honestly, Gie was well-aware of how her words sounded. But demanding an all-out annihilation of the character trait wasn't the point here. Therefore, she clarified:

“Why do you guys argue so much – really?”

Fully prepared to see him withdrawing into himself and closing off again, she faced a distinctly different reaction. While Malik was fast to catch onto what she was talking about, he showed no sign of being displeased with the topic.

“I argue with idiots in general. That's my job. I thought you already knew that.” Even busy with removing the teabag out of her mug after taking a careful, evaluating sip, it didn't stop her from pointing the obvious, encouraged by his response:

“Yeah, but not like you do with Altair...” It was much easier to continue pursuing the matter with his open attitude and his trademark scowl on vacation.

At last noticing that the issue was really troubling her, his blasé vibe evaporated out of the room. Sh- shrooms in a meadow. Counting her chickens way too soon.

“Geor-”

“I know I have no right to stick my nose into it, but what happened so wrong that you feel the constant need to butt heads?”

Silence and him clenching his jaw didn't look much promising in regard to her hopes of getting an answer when-

“We just do.” While his tone was even, and Malik obviously managed to reign whatever had made him grit his teeth in, all she got for her trouble was less than a bare minimum one would be able to work with. Before she could even let out a put-upon exhale at the cryptic reply, though, he gave in and elaborated further:

“It's the way we deal with stuff.” Now it was his turn to mumble something. What, Gie didn't manage to catch, “We've solved the... issue already, though.”

“So you'll argue less now?”

“Not likely,” if that wasn't a definitive statement right there. Splendid. She was starting to think that Mary was right. In one-year time, Italian mafia will pale in comparison. Relationship preferences...

Thinking back a bit, this was the first time Malik also openly addressed his relationship with Altair in her company. And what a fanfare did he chose to play it with. Speaking of that, on a closer look, Malik seemed this close to ask a question of its own, but he swiftly buried it expertly, shoving his attention into the caffeinated drink of his choice, he was holding. She could guess what this was about, though. Her brother was truly hopeless.

Ask who needs it spelled out for them again, brother.

“Hey.” Unphased, she walked over and started to unload stuff from the fridge that would make for a solid, good meal when rightly prepared. Chicken, vegetables and rice will do it.

“Hm?”

“I really don't mind, okay?” Malik took some time to react other than pin her with an intense gaze.

“Why?”

She smiled. For once, he was the dumb one.

“Because you're my brother.” Good and done with that, she pulled out a cutting board, issuing a challenge:

“Wanna cook together?”

“You'll tell me to get out in five minutes flat.” Was the gruff answer.

“That's not an answer.”

Keeping an eye on her with undisguised suspicion, he cautiously went to get a knife.

“The kitchen counter is not long enough for both of us.”

“I was here first!” Immediately calling dibs on the piece of furniture, she laughed as he swore.

#cbyp #assassin's creed #altmal

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