#Poltergeist Bill's been keeping it on the down-low

[tswwwit]

One of the staff workers in raised spirits DEF thinks dippers at least fucking one of the ciphers ghosts

I'd go so far as to say more than one of the staff members has certain Suspicions, re: Dipper talking to thin air all the time.

[samsexualdeancurious]

honky tonk angels (with their wings on fire)

Pairing: None

Words: 782

Summary: Sam seeks out things that remind him of Dean and there's one that works every time.

Warnings: Post-15x20, mentions of canonical main character death, grief.

Written for @spnovember

Prompt: Americana

Betaed by @raidens-realm (I forgot to tag them 😅)

Title from "Neon Church" by Tim McGraw

---

The only things Sam likes about bars are the neon lights and Dean. Problem is, Dean’s dead. So why does Sam keep finding himself in shitty bars? It’s not the lights, no matter how much he might enjoy them on their own. It’s certainly not the alcohol or the company. Places like this don’t have the good stuff of either.

Dean.

Country music plays low on the jukebox. Dean would complain about it. Sam can practically hear him. “Can’t they play real music?” even as he taps his boot to the beat under the table.

Miracle is safe in the motel room down the street, the only part of Dean Sam has left besides an old amulet, the car, and memories. So many memories. The clink of beer bottles. The curl of Dean’s lip after he downs a shot of cheap whiskey. The smooth, appreciative slide of his gaze over a passing waitress.

“She’s cute, Sammy. Say hi.”

“I’m good, Dean.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Sir?”

Sam blinks and the vision of his brother disappears. He tilts his head to meet the pretty brown eyes of the waitress. She smiles, cherry chapstick sweet and exactly Dean’s type.

“We’re closin’ up,” she says. So that’s why it’s so quiet. “Do you need me to call you a ride?”

Sam shakes his head. He taps one fingertip against the neck of his barely-touched beer bottle. “I’ll walk. The motel’s down the street.” He pulls a $20 from his wallet and hands it to her. “Keep the change.”

Outside the bar, the night air is cool and rain fresh. The neon lights of the sign reflect pretty colors off the still-damp asphalt of the parking lot. Streetlights brighten the path to the motel and Sam may be in Small Town, Nowhere, but the sky is still the flat grey of light pollution and clouds when he looks up. The sight makes him shiver. He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and starts walking.

A few days will find him in another town, another hunt, another bar once the poltergeist has been handled. He keeps coming back to them, over and over and maybe he’s starting to see what Dean saw.

Bars, he thinks, were Dean’s churches. Barstool pews, bartender sermons. A congregation under neon in search of solace, forgiveness, forgetting. Healing, of a kind. Sam doesn’t believe in this religion, never has, but he’s starting to see the beauty in it. The community. The comfort Dean may have found in the same kinds of people over and over. Different names, different faces, different town. Same stories.

It took losing Dean for Sam to see it.

Blue neon cuts through the dimly lit room, fuzzy in the smoke hanging in the air. Sam sinks low in his lonely booth under the old sign and watches, picking idly at the label on his beer. The music here is louder, some upbeat dance song that’s grating on his nerves but has the waitress swaying as she weaves between tall tables. The other patrons chat loudly, a steady drone that’s pitched just wrong and has Sam gritting his teeth.

“Just go back to the motel, Sammy. I can hustle pool alone tonight.”

“I’m supposed to be your backup.”

“You’re shitty backup when you’re like this. I’ll be fine.”

Dean was always looking out for him. He knew Sam better than Sam knew himself sometimes. Knew all the signs that Sam was headed for overload long before Sam realized he’d pushed too far.

“Go lay down in the car, Sammy. I’ll be out once I’ve won breakfast money.”

Sam drags himself from the booth and throws down a couple of bills for the beer he didn’t drink. Outside the bar is blessedly quiet, the hum of the crowd shut behind dirty glass and a creaky front door. The buzz of the neon sign splits the air, though, and drills into Sam’s head. He hunches his shoulders against it and hurries to the car. Her solid black frame silences the sound as Sam crawls into the backseat on instinct.

The familiar cushions and vinyl smell welcome him like an embrace as Sam settles, curled awkwardly on his side. He hasn’t fit properly for a long time but that doesn’t stop him. He digs under the seat and yanks out the thin old blanket. Miracle will be fine in the room tonight. Sam will fall asleep in the glow of the red neon sign through the window and wake up to a concerned morning jogger knocking on his window, and then it will be onward. Next highway, next town, next hunt, next bar, chasing memories of his brother.

[mysterytickingegos]

I’ve Created a Monster

Pairing: Darkiplier x Clairvoyant!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,480

Summary: After a bad date, you made a rather interesting friend. But better yet, you discovered something just as interesting about yourself. This something leads to a very exhilarating part of your life, but you learn the hard way that it’s not quite as glamorous an adventure as it may seem. The last person you’d expect is the one to bring you back to reality.

Anonymous Request: If I may request! :) Can I have a darkiplier x fem!reader fic with the prompts 37, 44, 45? After the events of wkm? Just some hurt and comfort to give me dem feelz 😀👍 Maybe Dark is the one saying it please? Much thanks!

Authors Note: Probably not what you were going for with the prompts but I hope you still enjoy it!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A Gif of Darkiplier from the “horror” branch of “A Date with Markiplier,” speaking to the viewer at a table, while another image of him leans away and yells. End Description]

Junk mail, bill, wrong address, junk mail...

The usual. You weren’t sure what ‘cool thing’ you were expecting to get in the mail in 2020 but the disappointment was there anyway. Just as you shut your mailbox you heard somebody coming down the stairs and cringed, bracing yourself as you hoped it wasn’t who you thought it was. But of course it was.

Your upstairs neighbor, AKA the worst date ever. “Ah, hey Y/n.”

“Hi Mark...” You gave him a sad attempt at a wave, and he gave you a nod, walking over to his own mailbox.

‘How’s it going?”

“Great, yeah...you?”

“Good.”

And with that the room dissolved into awkward silence, and you took your leave back up the stairs. Funny enough these moments used to be filled with dumb jokes and flirting, that was until he finally asked you out. You had been overjoyed, happy that someone had taken an interest in you and glad that something was breaking your dull everyday routine. Little did you know the highlight of the date would be the end. He had taken you to an expensive restaurant only to reveal that he had ‘forgotten’ his wallet (which ended up falling out of his pocket in front of you in the theater.) Then he had been upset with you for accidentally falling asleep to what must’ve the most boring Rom-com you had ever been subjected to. You both seemed to be in silent agreement that this should never, ever happen again.

But unbeknownst to you and Mark, somebody else had been lingering around. That was the first time that specific somebody had decided to visit you, making a sucky date the least of your concerns. You spent the rest of your night watching compilations on YouTube and eating chocolate Ice Cream. You kept going from sad to angry over your horrible day in your head.

Were you only worth asking out for a free meal? A meal that for you took about half your grocery budget. You should’ve given that ass a piece of your mind.

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and scarfing down even more ice cream. “Damn it.”

“Aw, don’t cry, darling. It wasn’t that bad.”

You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, scrambling away from the man now next to you on the couch. The moment your feet hit the ground you grabbed your phone and locked yourself in your bedroom. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Let’s say I'm a... friend of a friend. I thought I’d check up on you after that train wreck.” He spoke through the door. You heard a laugh layer over his voice, and wondered if somebody else was there.

“I’m calling the police!” You shouted back.

Then you heard the same voice just in front of you, clearly amused with the situation. “You’re welcome to do so, though I’m not sure they’d believe you.” It was the same man from the couch, smiling at you. You noticed how he seemed to be glitching, and how as his head tilted to the side his figure had duplicated in blue for a split second. “As I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m not exactly human.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to get to know you, Y/n. Is that so much to ask?”

The first few nights that you had stayed up a little too late and wound up speaking that deranged spirit again, you had been terrified. But soon enough you learned to enjoy his company. Sure, he could be a little unsettling at times, particularly when he was irritated and got...cold. Not just figuratively, which he was, but literally. The temperature in your apartment would drop a significant amount and you would change subjects shivering. But all in all, from what you could see behind that wall he had up, he was simply lost at worst, not exactly evil. And it was nice to not have to be so lonely all the time.

But during one of these visits, early on, you had decided to ask why.

“Why me, of all people?”

The man you had come to know simply as ‘Dark’  leaned in, lighting up as though he had been waiting on you to ask that this entire time. “Oh, Y/n. Don’t you know?”

“Why would I ask if I already knew?”

He let out an impatient sigh. ‘That’s...I was being...” He glanced up at you just in time to catch the smile playing at your lips after successfully ruining his aesthetic. “You know what? You can stay in the dark.”

“No no no, I’ll shut up, just tell me.” You turned to face him on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself.

He left you in suspense for a few moments, before dropping his voice down low when he spoke so you would have to lean closer in just to hear him. “Let’s just say you are...spiritually attuned to my world.”

“Spiritually attuned?”

“Yes, you are psychic, a medium, clairvoyant. Whatever you want to call it.” He explained. “You are a magnet to things outside the realm of the natural. A strange pair, aren’t we?”

And that was all it took, so many unexplained events from your past were now explained, and a world of possibilities was opened to you. You must’ve spent weeks researching how to harness your abilities, starting the second he left. Sure, most sites and blogs were absolutely full of it but you got the gist. With that and some common sense, how much could go wrong?

You started to take silly jobs on the internet, from old women who thought something was off with their mirrors to amateur ghost hunters who wanted a ‘consultant.’ It took you a while to gain some confidence that you weren’t just pulling this stuff out of thin air, that you hadn’t lost your mind. But after a few months, once you hit that learning curve, man it was fun.

Your latest job was a little more hardcore, a young family wanting help to push a poltergeist out of their new home. Their stories had chilled you to the bone, but you were happy to help. Your evaluation at the house went fine, nothing too far past what you were used to. Except, the entire time you were there you felt as though you had weight sitting on your chest. You could barely listen to the poor couple tell you what they experienced due to a faint scratching feeling at the back of your mind. You weren’t an expert yet but you could tell that whatever this thing was, it did not welcome you there. Worse yet, the feeling of being drained that the couple mentioned was certainly affecting you as well. Perhaps worse.

But all that accomplished was making you even more determined to rid the house of it. You took notes for your research later, tried to communicate in the most active part of the house (with no results,) and gave the couple the best advice you could at the moment.

“Until this thing is gone, it’s best you stay somewhere else.”

A few nights later, you had just finished packing your bag and begun heading for the door when you heard Dark just behind you. “Good evening, Y/n.” His voice was layered, followed by a subtle echo bouncing off the walls of your small apartment. When you turned to face him you saw he was already frowning, having realized you were on your way out. “Where are you off to so late?“

“I’m going to hang out with some friends. So I’m sorry, you’ll have to find some other way to entertain yourself tonight, instead of ya know, slowly but surely turning me into a nocturnal hermit.“ You joked, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

He chuckled, bringing his hands behind his back. “I hate to break this to you my dear, but you were there well before we met.”

“Ha ha.” You turned to leave but were stopped short when you saw that he had apparated directly in front of you.

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, starting to reach for it curiously before you stepped back.

“Nothing.” You said, a little too quickly. “Just some party supplies, alright?”

He raised his brow, no longer amused. “...Convincing. Is it really so difficult to be honest with me?”

“Oh don’t even try and pull that card, you won’t even tell me why you’re haunting that jerk upstairs.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you. “That’s different. Bringing such things to light would only do more harm than good.”

“Well, I may be wrong but...my thing is kinda the same. And I like what we’ve got going on so just let it go. Please?”

Dark stayed quiet, peeved off and clearly even more curious than he was before. Finally, he side-stepped out of your way, “Just be careful.”

When you got to the house, you were careful. Keeping lights on and keeping quiet while you did everything your research said you were supposed to. As you did, the spirit was also quiet, too quiet. And on your way home, you kept waiting for that heavy feeling on your chest to fade away.

Your apartment was freezing when you stepped out of the bathroom after your shower. Cold air brushed over your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Dark?” You called out, looking around for him. This wasn’t like him. He usually made you aware of his presence as soon as he showed up. You walked into your bedroom and when you locked eyes with another in the mirror, you froze.

This wasn’t like Dark, because it wasn’t him.

Instead, the person standing behind you was a very decrepit and very angry old woman, seemingly fading in and out of reality as she glared at you. “Y̸o̵u̶ ̴s̴h̷o̵u̶l̶d̸ ̸h̵a̵v̷e̷ ̵l̸e̴f̷t̶ ̷w̶e̶l̵l̶ ̸e̴n̵o̷u̶g̷h̶ ̶a̸l̶o̴n̸e̷.̴“

The mirror shattered and you whipped around to face her, but she wasn’t there. The air whirling around the place started to pick up, and picture frames flew off the wall at you, then other objects that had decorated your room. You tried to flee but your front door wouldn’t budge. You started to bang on it, crying in fear and praying that anyone would hear you. Next thing you knew though, you were flung towards the wall.

Finally, everything settled. The weight was off your chest, but there was plenty of pain there in it’s place. You slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position, then wiped the tears off your face with one hand and held the other over your ribs. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, waiting for something to happen and your heartbeat overpowered the ringing silence in your ears. You wanted to get your phone, to call for help but you were terrified of gaining attention again. You didn’t even really stop shaking until you heard a familiar voice.

“...Y/n?” Dark didn’t see you when he first showed up, just the disaster area that was your living room. Once had seen you, he was beside you in a blink of an eye. You didn’t even think about it before you wrapped your arms around him. He only gave you a moment of comfort before he pulled back, looking over you in concern. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

You couldn’t really get much out between pained wincing as he scooped you into his arms. “It was a -Ow- s-spirit.”

He laid you down on the couch as gently as he could, and you could see his face change from confusion to recognition to irritation. “Why, pray tell, would a spirit be here?”

“I may have taken a job to get rid of it...” You muttered under your breath.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, about to say something else before he stopped himself. Instead he moved his focus to your hand, moving it to reveal the dark bruise over your ribs.

“See, I knew you weren’t gonna like it.”

“You going off and messing with things you haven’t even begun to understand? Of course I don’t like it.” His figure glitched and layered itself in different colors before he got up and went to the kitchen.

You scoffed at his remark, trying to sit up. “Hey I understand more than you think, I’ve been doing this crap for months!”

He came back around the corner with an ice pack from your freezer in his hand. “Months?” He apparated in front of you, gently placing the pack down on the bruise, allowing you to squeeze his free hand until the shock wave from the pressure passed over you.

“I started looking into all this after you told me the truth.” You confessed. “I mean with the internet it wasn’t difficult, and I do my due diligence alright? I don’t know what went wrong.”

The aura behind him flashed pure red for just a moment, he approached his next words much softer than usual. “You can’t navigate things like this using the internet, Y/n.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d want to help me help everyone else get rid of their ghosts.”

He scoffed at you, beginning to raise his voice as the aura swapped back to blue. “You were right! I don’t understand why you would want anything to do with this, anyway. Why would you do this to yourself??” 

“I thought...I thought it’d be fun-”

“This isn’t a game!”

“You know I really don’t get you, why-”

“Of course you don’t! Do you even know what I am?”

“Well, no...”

“Neither do I.” He growled. His words truly sunk in once you saw the pain behind his eyes. He collected himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “What I do know, is that I was human once. And people screwing with things that they shouldn’t have for selfish reasons is what turned me into this. Over the years I’ve had to see other terrible things happen to well meaning people. I’ll be damned if you throw yourself into the fire for fun.”

You nodded softly, breaking the intense gaze between you to look as your hands. “...Okay.” You opened your mouth to speak again after that, but decided against it.

“What is it?” Dark asked, trying and failing to hide the impatience in his voice.

“I just didn’t think...well I really didn’t think you’d care. Well, about this part I guess-”  You sighed, cutting yourself off this time, rather than rambling.

He was quiet for a moment, placing his hand under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “I care...more than you know.” It was the silence after that, that spoke volumes, and even more so the way he moved forward to press his lips to yours. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a poltergeist to take care of.”

[strangerdeer]

A Light Revenge

Awilda Flamel offers to help Saffron Clemont to make Peeves talk what he knows about the last Vault.  Awilda Flamel is my OC Saffron Clemont belongs to @staymay5​ Word count; 3 094 English is my second language • • • In the halls of Hogwarts, some giggles could be heard and the sound of wet shoes walking around. Awilda Flamel was walking in the halls and she was soaking wet. Once again the Poltergister Peeves had taken the opportunity to throw water balloons at her. And she wouldn’t have time to change her clothes since the next lesson was Defend Against Dark Arts, she wouldn’t be able to run down to the dungeons and then up again. She held out her arms while walking, thinking it would dry faster. Hoping that the books weren’t ruined.  Behind Awilda, she could hear quick footsteps. “Wil!” Awilda turned around when she heard her nickname being called. It was Saffron Clemont. Saffron stopped in front of Awilda and panted quietly. “What happened to you? Fell into the black lake?” “I will give you a clue,” Awilda said, still standing with her arms stretched out. “it starts with a P and ends with eeves.” Saffron sighed, she could have figured it out quicker it was Peeves if it weren’t she became worried for Awilda. “That old ghost,” Saffron muttered. “but why haven’t you changed?” “Well,” Awilda dragged it out. “Ms. Rakepick hates us being late, right?” “Right.” “And it takes 10 minutes to run down to the dungeons. But with my bad luck with the stairs, we have to count it as 13 minutes. Then get into my room and change takes a solid 7 minutes. And then run back up again which would take as well 13 minutes, which would be…” Awilda started to count on her fingers, basic math skills didn’t sit too right with her, she would have been better at it if Hogwarts had offered math lessons. “A half-hour,” Saffron said. “it would take a half-hour.” “Yes,” Awilda stopped counting. “and Rakepicks class starts in 10 minutes. So I decided to come like this instead.”

Saffron looked up and down on Awilda. She didn’t know any useful spells for this situation to help out. “I actually saw Professor Snape here nearby,” Saffron said. “he probably has a spell to dry you up.” “You think he will help me?” Awilda asked. “If he doesn’t want your house to lose points. Plus I think Rakepick won’t help you.” Awilda doubted that even Professor Snape would help her but she followed Saffron along. While they walked, with Awilda a little behind so she wouldn’t slip on her shoes, Awilda noticed that Saffron didn’t seem to be her happy self. As something was bothering her. Saffron walked with quick steps. She had seen Snape somewhere around as he patrolled the hallways. She hardly noticed Awilda was slipping behind her when she walked fast. But she had a lot in her mind. It was with the Vaults and apparently, Peeves knew something. When Saffron asked Peeves the other day, he just laughed at her, saying he wouldn’t say anything, and tossed dung bombs everywhere before flying off! It took Saffron the whole afternoon to wash off the smell. Since then she hasn’t seen Peeves. And she knows she is much closer now to find her brother and break the portrait curse. If only Peeves was willing to work– Saffron spotted a black cloak around the corner and now she jogged after. “Professor Snape! Professor Snape!” Saffron jogged around the corner and stopped her feet immediately when she saw Snape looking down on her with a disgraceful face. “No shouting in the halls Miss Clemont. 3 points from Gryffindor.” Saffron just nodded, 3 points wasn’t a lot as she had expected. “Professor Snape, do you know a dry-up spell?” “Why do you ask?” Snape hissed and looked skeptical at her. “Awilda Flamel has been attacked by Poltergeist Peeves and is soaking wet from top to toe.” “And where is Miss Flamel?” Saffron had thought Awilda ran with her, she looked behind her but there was no one there. But Saffron and Snape could hear the squeezing of wet shoes walking up behind the corner. Awilda walked up with her arms still stretched out and with the clothes dripping water. If Awilda had been in another house, she would have lost more points but Snape was the one who never took away points from his own house. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Awilda and the girls could hear how he clenched his teeth together. “Miss Flamel,” Snape dragged out the words. “what is this supposed to be?” “Wet clothes,” Awilda responded short. “And why haven’t you changed up and made the halls slippery?” “Because Professor Rakepick will not allow me to be 30 minutes late sir.” Snape inhaled, he would neither let another teacher take house points away from Slytherin. He picked up his wand and cast a dry-up spell on Awilda. “Thank y–” “Detention Miss Flamel,” Snape interrupted her. “I will expect you in the kitchen this Saturday… for the sixth Saturday in the row.” Awilda nodded. “Yes sir.” “Now both of you, go to your class.” Neither Awilda nor Saffron hesitated to quickly walk with quick steps away from Snape. Awilda was surprised that it went well, she looked over at Saffron to thank her but Saffron had a worried face. “Something on your mind Saffron?” Awilda asked as they got closer to the classroom. “Hm?” Saffron broke away from her thoughts and looked at Awilda. “what did you say?” “I asked if something is on your mind. But I take it as a yes.” “Oh, is it that visible?” “Well, I have never seen you that worried before.” Awilda and Saffron stepped into the classroom, Rakepick stood there, was ready to start the lesson any minute now. “It is the Vaults,” Saffron whispered to Awilda as they took the two empty seats closest to the door. “I think Peeves knows something about this Vault. But when I asked him, he just flew off. And I have no idea how to make him tell me.” Saffron side-eyed to see that Rakepick gave her a sharp glare. She hasn’t told Rakepick anything yet and she rather keeps her voice low when discussing this with Awilda. “That is a problem… but I think I know someone we can ask help with that,” Awilda whispered back. “You’ll help me?” Saffron shined up. Awilda nodded with a smile. “Of course! I would gladly help you.” As she spoke she picked up her books from the bag but she felt something was wet. Saffron jumped a bit when Awilda slammed her books on the table that were soggy. One of the pages had fallen out of the book and was now crumbling on the floor with words that no longer were able to read. “There go my books,” Awilda sighed and now was shaking her wet bag, and out from the bag fell out a compass. “oh so it was there all along. Ben! I found your compass!” • • • “Don’t we need William to get into the Prefects bathroom?” Saffron asked when they stood in front of the bathroom. “No, I happen to know the password,” Awilda replied and turned to the door. “dungeon chocolate.” The door slowly opened and Awilda looked at Saffron. “Good job Wil, may I ask how you know all these passwords?” Saffron teased and gently elbowed her. “I just ask those I know who will share with me,” Awilda grinned. “I guess I’m that lucky to ask the right ones.” They stepped inside the giant bathroom. Awilda usually came here whenever she had Quidditch practice, but Saffron had only been there with Bill when they had to find clues about the Vault. “How come you have nicknames for everyone but for Bill you say his full name?” Awilda asked. “Oh, it is because I–” “Well, well, well.” The girls looked towards the bathtub and up came Duncan. The ghost they wanted to meet. “If it isn’t the two most disgraceful people I know,” Duncan flew up to them, clearly not happy. “He hates you too?” Awilda asked Saffron. “Yeah? Didn’t I tell you?” “No, I must have missed it, why does–” “Because her brother is as terrible as your brother Flamel!” Duncan shouted. He flew closer to their faces, floated a bit over the two. “Clemont left me to die, and your brother Flamel, he tortured me.” Saffron crossed her arms. How much was she actually willing to believe this ghost? Awilda seemed already bored with Duncan’s talk about how terrible her brother was, she has heard it all before. She didn’t believe Duncan at all whatever he said about her brother. “Right, can we take that another time though?” Awilda sighed. “ We want to know what ghosts’ weaknesses are.” “What?” Duncan spits out. “So you can torture me as well in the afterlife? Get lost Flamel! I’m not helping you!” “It isn’t against you!” Saffron stepped towards. “It is so Peeves will tell us about the Vaults, he hides something from us that can be useful!” “And also to get revenge on him for all the pranks he has done on us,” Awilda said. “It would actually be fun to get a prank on him,” Saffron agreed. Duncan was silent, he floated above them and sat leg crossed in the air, He closed his eyes for a short moment before he finally spoke. “Why do you think he knows about the Vaults, Clemont?” “I think he knows where it is,” Saffron answered. “please Duncan, it is the only way to lift up this curse and free Beatrice from the portrait. You have to help us.” “Help you,” Duncan snorted. “look what happened when I helped out your brother. I’m dead.” Awilda was about to lay a comment that Duncan wouldn’t die more to help them but she stopped herself, or else they would lose Duncan. “It would give you a reason to not hate on us,” Saffron suggested. “wouldn’t it be nice to see that bullying doesn’t necessarily run in blood?” Duncan was silent but his eyes weren’t narrowing as much as before. “Saffron is actually one of the kindest people I know,” Awilda slung her arm around Saffron’s shoulders. “she helps whenever and always stands up to her friends!” “Same goes to Wil,” Saffron put her arm around Awilda’s waist. “whatever you say about our brothers, we aren’t like them at all!” The girls smiled big towards Duncan, hoping he would soften up and help them. Duncan put his finger on his chin and thought for a second before he replied; “No.” “What?” the girls said in a choir. “You heard me,” Duncan said and laid back in the air, putting his hands back on his head. “it is your brothers’ fault I’m in this state in the first place, so why help you two? I enjoy them being gone.” “But what about other students?” Awilda let go of Saffron and stepped towards Duncan. “They haven’t harmed you in any way, are you going to be that pitty to let others suffer because you hold a grudge against us? Against our brothers?” Duncan changed his position now, and was now almost standing up. “Do you want more people to actually die and be ghosts like you?” Awilda continued. “Would you rather let this school die than help us?!” Saffron held her hand on Awilda’s shoulder, a sign to not get overboard. Saffron looked up at Duncan; “If you help us, you may have saved the whole school. Hogwarts needs your help Duncan, not just us. Please, we can’t let more people die at this school.” It was silent for a short while. Duncan’s grumpy face had changed to a more concerned look. His shoulder lowered when he sighed. “Of course I don’t want kids to die,” Duncan said without looking in their eyes. “but. . . I don’t mind being called a hero for saving them.” Duncan grinned at the girls, both Awilda and Saffron gave a nod. “Alright,” Duncan said. “I’ll help you, but listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself.” • • • “I found a duck,” Saffron held up a rubber duck. “I guess it is a toy.” “He is worse organised than my dad is,” Awilda said while placing out another balloon that floated in Peeves’ room. “I wonder where he gets all this from,” Saffron picked up a cube with a lot of colours on it. “you think he stole these?” “He steals a lot from Mr. Flich so I wouldn’t be surprised he stole from students too.” Saffron twisted carefully the cube and the colours changed their positions. “Hey Wil, do you think this is a good plan? I mean, do you think he will actually tell us?” Awilda stood still and looked at the balloon in front of her, thought for a moment before turning to Saffron. “If I shall be honest, I have no idea if this is a good plan. But it is a good way to scare him after all the time he has pranked us!” She stepped over some stuff and went over to Saffron. “Either if this works or not, we will still find the last Vault, with or without his help.” Saffron smiled at Awilda and gave a nod. She dropped the cube back to the floor there she had found it. “You’re right. It is kinda exciting to see if this prank will work.” “It will at least scare him!” The girls went silent when they heard the echo of laughter getting closer. They both took up their wands, ready to meet the poltergeist. Peeves floated through the door, holding his stomach while he laughed big and shredded a tear. When he opened his eyes, he let out a big gasp. Ten big balloons floating everywhere in his room and in the middle of the room stood two girls. Peeves' face changed now to an angry expression. “What have you done to my room?!” Peeves yelled. “We have placed out balloons,” Awilda answered. “each one of them contains a strong lightning spell within them. If we pop them off, it will be like the middle of the day in here.” “Camel Flamel would never dare to do that,” Peeves said. “Don’t test me,” Awilda said and raised her wand. “I have once dumped dung bombs on the famous Rita Skeeter, I wouldn’t be scared to pop off some balloons at you.” Peeves looked around in his little home. This was his home after all, where would he otherwise go and come up with more pranks, and witts if not in here? And what if they only pop off one and let the rest pop off at any other times when he isn’t expecting it? He narrowed his eyes at the girls. “What do you two want with me anyway?” “To tell us about the last Vault,” Saffron said. “you know where it is, don’t you?” “Perhaps I know, but I don’t want to answer.” “Then we let the balloons go off,” Saffron raised her wand. Saffron started to swing her wand and that made Peeves throw up his hands. “No!” “Will you tell us?” Awilda asked. “Fine fine,” Peeves muttered and flew to the big pile of dumpster.  Peeves started to dig and toss stuff all around the place. An old moldy sandwich flew over Saffron and Awilda, made them wonder why Peeves would have sandwiches laying around in this mess. “Here! I found it!” Peeves flew to the girls and held a portrait. It was a portrait of a knight standing in a hall. It seemed to guard something. “What’s this?” Awilda asked. “The Vault Portrait of course!” Peeves spitted out. “The one you’re looking for!” “It is a clue to get to the last Vault,” Saffron filled in and shined up. “this can help us a lot!” “And it makes sure you two leave me alone!” Peeves said and tossed the portrait to Awilda and she caught it even if she almost fell backward. “Now take your horrible balloons and leave!” “The thing is–” Saffron raised her wand and smiled towards Peeves. Peeves gasped and closed his eyes as Saffron popped off the balloons. But when he didn’t hear any laughter or got blinded through his eye locks, he peaked open. All the balloons had contained confetti in them. It flew colourful confetti through the whole room and landed on all three of them. “– they were filled with confetti,” Saffron finished her sentence. It was a silence for a moment before Peeves started to laugh loudly, howling with joy and holding his stomach. “You tricked me there really good!” Peeves said between his laughs. The girls smiled at each other for the successful prank and made a high five, a victory has been made. “I’m glad this went through,” Awilda said. “or we would have been screwed.” “Imagine if we would have to make big pranks to get Peeves respect,” Saffron got handed over the portrait and she looked at it. “things that would have gotten us expelled.” “It’s good that Duncan said scaring was a better alternative,” Awilda crossed her arms. “I can’t imagine what big pranks we would then have to do. Like, make the sky fall down? Make a troll fight on school grounds?” “Are those even pranks?” “Not really, it is just cruel sabotage and would make everyone scared.” “Like that time you put fire on Professor Snape’s cloak and everyone had to rush inside?” Before Awilda could answer, Peeves' laugh was above them and the two girls looked up at him. With their small chat, they completely missed that Peeves flew quickly away to get water balloons. As he let go of them he shouted; “Here’s what you get for pranking me!” They weren’t quick to move away and the girls got the water balloons over themselves. Awilda rubbed her eyes and Saffron made sure the portrait was okay, but Peeves wasn’t finished with them. He flew around the room, grabbed something that looked like a big tube of ketchup, and flew towards the girls. Peeves pressed the tube and out came glitter and got stuck all over the girls. “Now I’ve got my revenge on you two,” Peeves laughed. Awilda looked down on herself and saw the green glitter had stuck everywhere, even on her face. Spitted out some glitter and she looked over at Saffron, and the same thing had happened to her, except she had red glitter. “Sacrebleu,” Awilda muttered in french. “We match our houses at least,” Saffron said. “And we got the portrait, let’s leave before we get something more tossed on us.” Thank you for reading!

[welcometophu]

Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 2

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 2

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There are a lot of cars in the parking lot when Pels drops Cheyenne off at her gym. She sees parents walking in with much younger kids, and moms dropping off teenagers the same age as Cheyenne. The older moms are bundled up in long coats and thick scarves, huddled in knots outside of the building in groups that seem to be loosely organized according to whether they’re smoking or not.

Pels doesn’t want anything to do with any of them.

Cheyenne leans back in the car after she climbs out. “There’s a coffee shop like five minutes further down the road.” She makes a face. “Well. It’s not a shop. More of a drive through coffee stand. There’s no place to sit. But you could go and get something and waste some time before you’re stuck coming back here. There really isn’t much of anything else.”

“I’ll find some way to keep myself entertained.” If all else fails, she could have a scintillating conversation with Dad. He’s always good for pithy observations about her life.

“Just be back by twelve to pick me up.” Cheyenne yanks open the back door and grabs her bag, slipping her water bottle from the side pocket so she can take a long, deep pull before she slams both doors shut. “Bye! See you later!” Her voice is muffled and distant as she turns away, already waving to another teen as she runs to the building.

“Guess I’m getting coffee.” Pels starts the car up again, carefully backing out to avoid the line of cars still pulling in. She managed to arrive five minutes early, and she wonders if there will be any spots left at all if she leaves.

She takes another look at the clusters of moms. Yeah, no, she’s not staying here for the entirety of the next two hours.

The Coffee Shack is exactly five minutes further down the road, and looks like it’s just that: a small shack with a half circle driveway past a drive-up window. Pels would wonder if it’s open this early in the spring, but there’s a line of cars leading up to the shack, so she figures it has to be doing decent business.

“I miss coffee,” Dad says quietly as she pulls into the drive behind a beat-up minivan.

“I’m aware. You made me learn to love coffee because you kept insisting I go to coffee places.”

“You heard a lot of good music, and ate a lot of good food. And there was that one when you were fifteen.”

Right, that one. The one almost crush that Pels had before she realized that there was no point in crushing on anyone, since two days later Peter’s ministry took them to another state. “Oh yes, coffee shops hold such great memories,” she says dryly. “I can admit that they were a great way to get away from Peter, though. I think I might’ve enjoyed working in one, if I’d ever been anywhere long enough to hold down a job.”

“You’d probably like working in a library, too,” Dad points out. “You’ve always had an affinity for books.”

“You threw an entire shelf at a girl who was bullying me when I was six,” Pels reminds him. “I don’t think I’d want to be around an entire library of them on a regular basis.”

“We’ve both grown since then. Besides, at that age, it was better if it looked like I was a poltergeist. I didn’t hit her. I never would have hurt her.”

Pels pulls up the emergency brake since the line is moving slowly enough. It lets her turn around, putting one arm on the seat so she can look back at where Dad is watching her. “Your parenting technique and persuasive methods are both dubious at best. But you did mimic toddler tantrums pretty well. On the other hand, you could’ve made the attempt to be subtle.”

“She was six,” Dad says plainly. “She wouldn’t have understood subtle. Neither would you. I haven’t thrown anything or ruined anything that doesn’t belong to you in a while. And if you’d listen to what I say and suggest, I wouldn’t have to try so hard to get your attention.”

Pels disengages from the seat so she can turn back around and pull up when the other cars move. She’s only one back from the window, and she really hopes it’s worth it. “There are days when I envy people who can’t talk to ghosts. And who don’t have one following them around everywhere. Like. Every day.”

“You love me.” Dad’s voice is soft and low, and Pels looks up in the mirror to see him leaning on the back of the seat, his hand just barely touching her cheek. She feels the feather soft touch and sighs.

“Yes, Dad, I love you. Just sometimes I don’t always like you,” Pels says quietly. “Why can’t you just… let me live my life?”

“Because it’s my job to make sure you get to where you need to be, when you need to be there.” Dad sits back, his arms crossed. “And I’ve been doing it for almost nineteen years at this point. That’s not going to change.”

Pels would ask why, but he’s never answered before, and she doubts he’ll start now. Instead she grips the steering wheel tightly and when the car ahead of her finally moves off, she pulls up to the shack window and pushes the button so her own window slides down.

“Welcome to the Coffee Shack!” Lonnie—according to his name tag—is far too cheerful. His cheeks are bright red from the chill, and his blue eyes are bright. “What can I get you? Today’s special blend is a medium roast with vanilla cream and dark caramel flavors, and I can give that to you in coffee, latte, or iced form.” He leans on the edge of the window, getting just a tiny bit closer as his voice lowers. “You’d be surprised how popular the iced ones are, even in the winter.”

“Just hot coffee, but the special sounds good. As big as you’ve got.” Pels spreads her hands as if she’s holding an entire thermos. “I’m going to be sitting outside for a couple hours.”

Lonnie turns away, grabbing a paper cup that looks almost suitably large enough. “You look too young to be a mom,” he says. “Sister? Stuck driving?” He presses the top of a large carafe, filling the cup before he fits a top onto it and turns back to Pels. “Three dollars even,” he says as he hands it to her.

She digs out three bills to hand to him, then empties her mother’s coin supply from the cup holder into his tip jar. She can be both generous and practical; she needs a place to put the coffee.

“Thanks.” Lonnie flashes a bright grin. “So, there’s a park down that way. It’s really the trail-head to a hike, but the trails aren’t ready for that yet. But the park equipment stays out year round, and it’s probably not too busy. If you want a place to hang out while waiting for your sibling.” He reaches off to the side, out of view, and comes back with a paper baggie. “Cookie. On the house.”

“He’s flirting,” Dad murmurs.

“I get that,” Pels hisses under her breath, even though no, she didn’t. Lonnie must have heard her, because his brows are already furrowing in confusion, so she hastily reaches for the cookie. “Thanks. For the cookie and the tip. How did you even—”

“Monday through Friday is for business commuters, but Saturday’s for gymnastics. Always has been here,” Lonnie says easily. There’s a honk from somewhere behind Pels, and Lonnie motions for her to move on. “Go enjoy the park.”

It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, and it’s better than hanging around with a bunch of people the same age as her mom. Pels pulls out of the spot, hearing a squeal behind her as someone pulls into it as fast as she leaves.

“Someone’s impatient,” Dad observes.

Pels’s phone buzzes, but she can’t pick it up to look at it while she’s driving. It doesn’t keep buzzing, so it has to be a text, not a call. The only people who ever text her are her mother and her sister, and she figures they’d call if it were an emergency, so she ignores it.

The fact that it buzzes twice more, at random moments, is a little concerning. When she glances over, Dad is in the front seat, with her phone in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure heat activated or fingerprint unlocking is beyond even your capability,” Pels says.

“I can pick it up, but you’re right, I can’t unlock it. But the notifications show on your screen when the phone moves. It’s Jess.”

Pels pushes down on the gas in surprise, accelerating more than she means to. She relaxes, letting the car adjust back to the right speed. “Jess?” She’d forgotten that she’d given her her number, when they’d had lunch that one time. But now she remembers unlocking her phone and letting Jess program in her number and Shane’s.

She holds out her hand, but the phone moves out of reach as Dad holds it near the window. “When we get to the park,” he says. “No texting and driving.”

Pels drives just a little faster, and thankfully Dad says nothing. When she pulls into the dirt parking lot, parking as far as she can from the few other cars, he just holds out the phone, exchanging it for the paper bag she’s held on her lap since leaving the Coffee Shack.

Pels unlocks her phone, and three texts pop up immediately.

Ángel’s boyfriend is visiting. He is like the personification of grumpy cat. In very large cat form.

The next text is a picture of a boy Pels sort of recognizes and assumes is Ángel, with a large cat draped across his lap. The cat has his eyes closed, lying on his side and tilted slightly onto his back as Ángel rubs his belly.

It’s really adorable.

It’s a brand new text stream, and from the top of the screen Pels can see that it’s a group chat between her and Shane and Jess. While she’s looking at it, another text pops in from Shane.

I’ve been sexiled. I’m staying in Jess’s room for the week.

There’s a light touch to her shoulder, and when Pels glances up, Dad is walking across the parking lot toward the park. He left the paper bag on the front seat, so Pels grabs that to peer in. Double chocolate is never a bad choice. “Thanks, Lonnie,” she murmurs, then breaks off a bite to pop into her mouth. It’s still warm, the chocolate chips gooey and melting, sweet across her tongue. She chases it with a gulp of coffee, and yeah, she now understands why there was such a long line. The Coffee Shack is a nice treat for the day.

She continues to pick at the cookie while staring at her phone as if it’s going to continue doing something to entertain her. The cookie is almost done before it starts buzzing again as a series of pictures comes in.

She recognizes Hayley, bundled up against the cool weather. There are two more cats, and Jess captures images of them as they pounce on the one on Ángel’s lap, knocking him over and rolling the cat off. Another image shows Hayley bent over, laughing, with bright sparks shimmering around her. And the final one is a selfie of Shane and Jess, tilted close together, Jess’s nose bright red in the cold.

Pels knows she should answer, but this isn’t one of her skills. People in general aren’t one of her skills. She used to try when she was younger, but between being bullied, and strange things happening that no one but her understood, and Peter’s ministry keeping them on the road constantly… she just stopped connecting. It wasn’t worth it.

This feels dangerously like an attempt to connect.

“One text isn’t going to hurt you.”

She presses a hand to her heart, glaring at Dad where he’s back in the passenger seat. “I swear to God, if I could put a bell on you I would,” she grumbles. “Try not to scare me to death. If I die, you’ve done a shit job as a guardian angel.”

Her gaze drops back to the phone in her hand. She touches her thumb to the little line to respond, and a keyboard pops up. She sets the phone down on her lap like it’s hot.

It’s not that she’s not going to text. Just… it can wait. Right?

“I should drink my coffee before it gets cold,” she says, lifting the cup.

“Mm.” Dad makes that sound when he’s being judgmental and trying to pretend he’s not. Pels is very familiar with it.

She takes a long gulp of the coffee, studiously ignoring him.

The car clicks unlocked. She doesn’t look at him.

A rush of cold air hits her when her door opens, and Dad stands on the outside, holding on to the door, waiting.

Pels scowls. “Jesus Christ, I haven’t even taken off my seat belt.”

“You can glare at your phone in the park. It’s not busy, and there’s sun. It’s actually warmer there than here,” Dad points out.

She could close the door, but she knows from experience that if Dad wants her to do a thing, she’ll do the thing, even if she doesn’t understand why. If she doesn’t, Dad will just insist. “Fine,” she grumbles, grabbing her coffee and the remains of her cookie. She locks the car behind her, trailing as Dad leads the way to a bench that sits in the sun, but is still far enough from the playground and the few kids running around together.

Her phone buzzes one more time, vibrating in her pocket before she sits on the bench. She ignores it while she finishes the cookie and pitches the crumpled bag into the nearby trash.

“Just text back,” Dad encourages. “You’re going to be there for four years. You have a chance to build relationships.”

Pels glances at the ink on her wrist. “Yeah, no thanks. I don’t want any magically encouraged love affairs, thanks.”

“Magic can’t make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Pels snorts, because Dad, of all people, saying that is too funny. She covers it by drinking her coffee and pulling out her phone. “Dad. I don’t know if you remember this, but my entire Talent is built around magic telling me what to do, and what not to do, on a regular basis. Whether I want to do it or not.” She looks at him. “Magic is pushy. Literally. You pushed me into Shane.”

“But I can’t make you fall in love with him,” Dad says plainly. “Just answer the text. Make friends for once in your life. You’ve already made a couple of them and it hasn’t killed you.”

Fine.

I’m sorry, we’re probably bugging you when you’re busy with family, Jess wrote.

Pels worries at her lip, carefully typing out her answer. No, it’s okay. Dad’s bugging me, but he does that all the time. Mom actually made me drive my sister to gymnastics, and I’m stuck waiting around for her. I’m in a park, and it’s cold, but I’ve got really good coffee.

She holds up the cup in one hand, snapping a picture of it with the park in the background, then sends it before she can rethink it.

Oh it’s so pretty there! You must love getting to go home. We’re just hanging out in the Quad. Tony and Tanner and Luca aren’t used to the snow, so even though there’s only a little, it’s fun to watch them.

Jess’s text has a picture attached of three people Pels doesn’t recognize at all. One is one his back making a snow angel out of a dusting of snow. The other has his arm wrapped around Ángel and is glowering, while the third is on his knees, packing a tiny snowball.

Tony is Ángel’s soulmate. I think he’s a little possessive. Tanner is Hayley’s soulmate, and I think Luca is one of his best friends. Tanner is also Ángel’s best friend. And I think the soulmate thing for Tanner and Hayley is complicated but I’m not really asking questions. Tanner and Luca are staying with Hayley for spring break.

Tony is why I’m sexiled, Shane adds after Jess’s long text.

He says that like he doesn’t crash in my room half the time anyway, Jess adds, with a laughter emoji.

Shane sends several middle finger emojis.

Aren’t you guys together right now? Pels asks. Can’t you give her the finger in person?

Jess sends a series of different laughter emojis, almost filling Pels’s screen. That sounds so wrong out of context.

What?

Oh.

I didn’t mean that, Pels types slowly, thinking twice before she finally sends it.

I’m not her type anyway, Shane sends.

I like girls, Jess sends. I’ve never really had a crush on a guy.

Neither have I, Shane adds.

Pels giggles, surprising herself. I’ve never really had a crush on anyone, she admits. I almost did, once, then I moved. We move a lot. This place isn’t really home. It’s just where the current house is.

Oh wow, that’s really sad.

Pels stares at Jess’s text, her phone cradled in her hands. She’s always been angry about moving. Frustrated. She’s not sure she remembers how to feel sad about it. It’s just life, she replies. There isn’t really time to cry about it.

It looks like Jess is typing and deleting something several times. Shane sends a picture of Jess sitting cross-legged on the ground in the Quad, frosted leaves still scattered across the grass around her. Pels can see the puff of air lingering in the air after Jess exhaled, her nose and fingers red in the cold.

You should get a place off campus, Jess finally says. So you can have a place that’s yours for three years while you finish at PHU. Because you’ll be here for a while.

Just being in the same city for that long is new to me, Pels says.

Well, you get to keep us at least until we graduate, Shane says. So we can be friends.

You make it sound so easy.

It is that easy, Jess assures her. How long until you have to pick up your sister?

Pels checks her watch, not sure how long she’s already wasted. Somehow it’s already eleven, and that surprises her that time has passed so quickly. She looks around for Dad, but he seems to have disappeared for the moment, leaving her to her texting and coffee. I should probably hit the road in about a half hour. I have to drive back to where I left her.

I think we can keep up the distractions for a half hour, Jess assures her. So, let me tell you this story about orientation during our freshman year….

It’s weird, but not a bad kind of weird. What’s odd is how easy they make it, how simple it is to just listen to them talk, and sometimes say something back, and how they never make her feel truly awkward. It’s okay. And Pels can deal with that.

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[haledamage]

"I think we're stuck." for Kai?

(trigger warning for claustrophobia, brief mentions of child abuse (no worse than the stuff mentioned in-game in Aloth’s backstory))

“Oh, lovely,” Aloth said drolly, staring into the room he’d just discovered. “A dark, ominous closet. My favorite.”

“Wonderful.” Kai managed to sound even less enthusiastic about the discovery than he did as she stepped up next to him. “You know, when I said I wished we could have some more time alone together, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“I know.” He took her hand, gave it a quick squeeze, then let her go. “At least those journals look promising. Maybe we’ll actually find some clues in this one.”

“Or spiders.”

He chuckled. “I suspect we’ll find spiders either way. After you, my dear. “

Kai didn’t hide her reluctance to enter the tiny room, but she did it anyway. It was barely big enough for the two of them to have room to move about without having to climb over each other. She suspected she could lay on the floor and be able to touch all four walls, and the ceiling was low enough that the cobwebs hanging from it caught in Aloth’s dark hair, silver strands clinging to him and aging him before his time. The three walls that didn’t house the door were covered in shelves with stacks of old, crumbling books and intriguing esoteric trinkets.

Without a word, the two of them turned to opposite shelves and started sifting through their contents. She had to resist the historian part of her brain that told her to take everything so she could study it at her leisure. They were here for a purpose, and part of that purpose involved leaving as small of a trace as possible of their passing.

Still. It was very tempting.

“Oh!” Aloth exclaimed suddenly, drawing her attention away from the golden curio she’d been inspecting. “I think I found something. I can’t read the text, but it looks familiar.”

She peeked over his shoulder at the book he was holding, squinting to try and see it in the unlit room. “It’s Engwithan. It’s too dark in here to decipher, but I recognize the language.”

“That seems promising,” he muttered to himself, tapping his finger on the corner of the book as he thought. Kai knew what he was thinking; he was trying to decide if they should risk exploring more, or take their prize and get out. He nodded, coming to a decision. “We should go. We’ve already been here too long.”

“Agreed. We’ll take it back to our room and see what there is to see. Worst case scenario, we can come back.”

They tried to put everything else back where they’d found it, more or less, then picked their way back to the door. It had drifted closed while they were exploring, the old wood warped and uneven from age. Aloth reached it first and moved to open it, but it didn’t budge.

He tried again; the doorknob rattled as he tried to shake the latch free, but it remained unmoved. He threw his shoulder into it, trying to force it, but it still remained spitefully closed.

Kai wished she’d thought to bring her pistol. There was more than one way to open a door.

He turned to her, a frown set deep in his brow, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it. “I think we’re stuck.”

It was amazing how much dread could come from just four words. “Of course we are. Gods forbid anything go simply for a change. How long do you think before someone comes looking for us?”

“If we’re lucky? A few hours.” His eyes roamed the room as if trying to find a different way out, but there were no windows, no spaces there could possibly be any hidden doors or alcoves. “If we aren’t… Edér will probably notice we’re missing by morning.”

“Galawain’s flea-bitten arse!” Kai growled and kicked the door. It did not fly dramatically open like she’d hoped. She leaned back against the door and pressed her head against it.

“Feel better, my dear?” he asked dryly.

“I’m sorry, darling. I just…” She closed her eyes, trying to keep her composure, but she was breathing too fast. “I don’t like tight spaces.”

“I… had forgotten,” Aloth said softly. “Forgive me.”

“Not your fault. It’s been a while.”

“That it has.” He tried to hide it, but Kai could still hear the pain in his voice.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Aloth Corfiser. We’ve talked about this.” They had, in fact, talked about it exhaustively. He still felt guilty for leaving Caed Nua, even though they’d agreed he needed to, and she still felt guilty for not going with him, even though they’d agreed she needed to stay in Caed Nua. It was a circular argument, one with no clear answer and no winner and all it did was reopen wounds that would be better left alone so they could heal.

“I know,” he said, voice so low now it was almost a whisper. She hadn’t realized how much her hands were trembling until he laced his fingers with hers. “But I can still never get back those years we were apart.”

“We have plenty of years ahead of us that we’ll spend together.” Even on the edge of panic, that still drew a small smile to her face. “Though we’ll probably spend them locked in this gods damned closet.”

“Kai. Look at me.” Aloth’s voice was gentle but firm, and she found herself responding to the command almost unconsciously. He was standing very close, his face barely inches from hers, and instead of making the suffocating closeness of the room worse, his proximity actually made it a little easier for her to breathe. His pale eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. “You are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just keep your eyes on me.”

He kept talking about nothing in particular, his voice calm and his gaze steady, his hand a lifeline in hers. Every breath came a little easier than the one before. She stopped shaking as the panic ebbed away, and the walls moved back to a reasonable distance once more. Finally, she sagged against him, pressing her face to his shoulder and just breathing him in for a moment. He smelled the same way he always did, the vanilla-and-dust scent of old books and the clean sharp ozone scent of his magic and a hint of woodsmoke that he picked up from her.

His arms went around her, holding her close, and the last of the tension drained from her and she could finally think again. Her thoughts raced like they were trying to make up for the time lost panicking. Maybe one of these shelves had a key. They couldn’t be the first kith to lock themselves in here. Or maybe… “I don’t suppose Iselmyr knows how to pick locks.”

“Fye, ainlie if ye've git an axe.”

“Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.” Kai’s own Awakened memories weren’t any help either. Iorena had been a soldier through and through. She knew how to open a stuck door using a spear as a lever, but that didn’t exactly help right now. A memory from her own childhood surfaced, hazy but possibly useful. “Maybe I can. Do you have a letter opener? A… a hair pin? A quill you’re not especially attached to?”

“Perhaps.” Aloth raised a curious eyebrow, but started searching his pockets for anything that might fit the bill. “Why would you know how to pick locks?”

“When we were children, my younger sister Ariana taught me.” Her pockets were distressingly empty, so she scanned the shelves to see if they had anything promising. “It’s been about thirty years since I’ve done it, but it’s worth a try.”

Aloth beat her to the punch, plucking a single patinated copper hairstick that probably predated the gods themselves from the shelf above her head. He offered it to her and she turned to the door to try and coerce it open. “Why would you need to know how to pick locks as a child?”

“Our mother favored solitary confinement as punishment,” she told the lock so she wouldn’t have to look at Aloth while she spoke. She knew what she’d see there: pain, sympathy, and enough understanding to make her angry, both on his behalf and on her own. “While I turned to reading as a way to pass the time, Ari was more proactive. She would sneak out in the middle of the night and rearrange Mother’s furniture, or steal things from Father and hide them throughout the house, and lock herself back away before they awoke in the morning. They never did figure out who was doing it.”

“How terrible,” he said softly, and he clearly wasn’t referring to Ariana’s poltergeist impression.

“No worse than anything you endured as a child.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No. It doesn’t.” Kai really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. There wasn’t enough space in this room for the two of them and the looming specter of her mother. Lucky for her, she was offered a very easy change of subject as the lock made a loud clicking sound. “Aha!” She gave her makeshift pick a careful twist and the door swung open. She climbed to her feet and gestured to the now-empty doorway. “After you, my dear.”

Neither of them said a word as they crept through the empty building and back out onto the street, then through a nearby alley. They emerged into a lantern-lit courtyard, music and laughter pouring out from the open doors of a tavern, and slowed their pace. Just another normal couple enjoying the evening air. The inn they were staying at was only a few buildings down, and they went straight up to their room as soon as they got there.

As soon as they stepped inside, Aloth rounded on Kai, hands falling onto her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… getting there.” No use lying to him; he’d see through it anyway. She brought a hand up to his face, tracing her fingers along his cheek. “Thank you for keeping a level head, darling. If I’d been there alone, I suspect I’d have never made it out.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’ve done the same for me. We take care of each other.” He said it like it was a simple fact of life. Water is wet; grass is green; we take care of each other. It made Kai adore him even more, just like it always did. “I got you something.”

He pulled the Engwithan book from his bag, then reached into it again and pulled out a smaller book, barely the size of his palm, and a bronze statuette of what looked like a deity, though it didn’t look like any of the ones they knew. They were small enough items that probably wouldn’t be noticed as missing, unless the owners did a thorough inventory - in which case their visit would have been noticed anyway.

Kai took the palm-sized book from him and opened it, curiosity getting the better of her. In it was page after page of faded writing in what looked like a very old form of Eld Aedyran, and the pages were so old they threatened to crumble at her touch. “You stole ancient artifacts for me,” she whispered, awed.

Aloth smiled proudly at her clear approval of his thievery. “Of course I did. I know the woman I married.”

She carefully took the books and statue from his hands and set them on the table. Then she walked back to him, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him, pouring every ounce of gratitude she had into it - not just gratitude for the pilfered gifts, but for his support, and his love, and just for being there.

“You’re welcome,” he said breathlessly once they parted, already leaning in for another kiss.

“That’s just the start, darling,” Kai said when they next broke apart. She pulled away from him enough to undo the clasps on her armor, letting it and the shirt she wore underneath fall to the floor. “We’ve got all night. Allow me to thank you properly.”

[etlunainmorte]

***

"So, will you take on the job, or not?"

The question has been bugging V, to be perfectly honest.

And it all started when a client visited the shop that one uneventful day.

V was busy sweeping the floor ( Dante was, as usual, sitting on his favorite chair with his booted feet propped up on the desk ) when the door suddenly opened, revealing a woman in her mid - twenties.

"Welcome to,... ah,..." the poet awkwardly began as he looked up from what he was doing ( he was instructed by Dante to keep practicing his greetings as a way of helping him loosen up in front of strangers and possible clients ) and took a look at the woman, who just ignored him and walked pass him.

"Are you Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter?" The woman asked with her low and raspy voice.

"Yeah? How can I help you?" Dante lazily inquired as he stretched his arms like he just woke up from a long, undisturbed slumber

"I need you to drive out the evil spirit that's haunting my house." The lady demanded in a very bossy tone. "I'll pay you - "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, señorita!" The Devil Hunter, who was wide awake now due to the woman's brash attitude, held up both his hands in an attempt to interrupt his very demanding client. "This is a Devil Hunting Agency, and not some fancy paranormal shop for old wives."

The woman's eyes widened as she placed her hands on her hips, clearly annoyed at the ugly attitude that Dante just showed her. "As I've told you, I could pay you - "

"Nope! Not gonna drive out ghosts for ya, miss." Dante rested the back of his head against his raised arms once more as he settled his feet back on the desk. "And I hunt Devils, not spirits. They're just, eh. Small fry,..."

The woman closed her eyes, holding up her hands and balling them to fists as she kept her temper in check. And when she opened them once more, V saw her grab something from the pocket of her ripped jeans and carefully placed it on the desk. "If you ever change your mind, you should be able to find me on this address."

V's eyes never wavered from the woman as she made her way out of the shop, ignoring him once more and walking pass him like she didn't even see him standing there. He carefully placed the broom and the dust pan on one corner of the room and made his way towards Dante. He saw the business card on the table, picked it up, and faced the man behind the desk.

"The electric bill is due tomorrow." V reminded the man, hoping for him to reconsider. "Why did you refuse?"

Dante opened one eye and peered at him curiously. "Eh, I'm not interested in it."

"Why?"

Dante sighed and closed his eyes as he made himself comfortable on his favorite spot. "I told ya. Ghosts are just small fry. Not worth my time."

"But, the lady needs help. And she is willing to pay." V reiterated, stressing on the word pay. But, he was ignored by the Devil Hunter.

What's with people and their tendency to ignore him?

With a deep sigh, V left the man and read the contents, pondering for a while if he should accept the job in place of the lazy Dante. The simple card contained the name of the client and her address. Nothing more.

~ Avery L. Edwards ~

• No. 794 Swan Lane, Red Grave City •

He dragged his gaze off the words that seemed to hypnotize him and went out of the shop, hoping to find Avery L. Edwards.

And there she was, about to start the engine of her shiny dark bike with purple highlights.

"Miss Edwards,..." V called her attention, slightly running to catch up to her before she could drive away.

Avery fortunately ( and finally ) noticed him and removed her helmet, turning her gaze towards him and appraising him from head to foot. In fact, she looked so surprised that a man such as V was trying to have a conversation with her.

Was it his unusual appearance?

"And you are - ?"

"V." The poet answered, taking a deep breath and leaning on his metal cane for support. He, then, straightened his back and tilted his head to the side. "You can call me V."

"Oh. What can I do for you, V?"

"About the commission - "

"Stop. Right. There." Avery pointed at V, cutting him halfway through his sentence. "If you're planning to take on the Poltergeist at my home, then you're making a HUGE mistake."

Huh? "And may I ask,... why?"

"Furniture floating and smashing about. Disembodied voices in the middle of the night. And your skinny, princess ass begging to be fed and given vitamins. Are you goddamn sure?!"

Now, Dante may have sensed her odd attitude, but her wrongful assumption of him being incapable of the task did somehow put him on the edge. He looked at her straight in the eye, slightly bowing his head, and showing her his devilish smirk - a sign that he was more than ready for the simple task she originally have for Dante.

And this slightly unnerved the woman.

"I would like,... to see myself try." V simply told her.

The woman raised a scornful eyebrow. She knew that Dante was her one and only hope and choice. No other person in Red Grave could do it but him.

But, this man?

"So, will you take on the job, or not?"

"I would like to,... if you would allow me."

Avery furrowed her eyebrows and regarded him like he was some suicidal maniac begging to be fed to the lion. "Alright. I'll expect you tomorrow, then. Move into the house for a week. Bring whatever or whoever you need. You know my address."

"Would a cat and a bird do?" V innocently asked as he playfully twirled his metal cane in a display of confidence. This woman,... must be taught a lesson.

Avery pursed her lips and wore her helmet once more. "Sure. Whatever. I don't care. Just,... get rid of the ghost for me. I'll pay you. That I can assure you."

And with those words, she finally drove away.

Despite the question strangely bugging him, he was, in fact, feeling excited of this new mission. Yes, Dante might consider it as "small fry" but, facing Poltergeists was definitely a welcome change compared to his boring Devil Hunting routine. And he wanted so much to prove that woman wrong about him.

He was about to go back to the shop to pack what little belongings he have when he noticed Nico staring at him with wide eyes and open mouth. Apparently, she has been standing near the door for quite a while and must have heard the conversation between him and Avery. She almost dropped her groceries as she attempted to close her mouth and control her drooling.

Wait, did she look,... excited?

"Whoa, a paranormal investigation!" The Artisan gasped. "Can I tag along?"

"I don't - "

"Come on, man! Ya gotta let me!" Nico strode closer to him, flailing her arms about and almost sending her groceries flying everywhere. "This is like,... a dream come true for me! Okay, how about this: we'll split the pay 70 - 30. But, I'll be happy with nothing, though, if you don't want 70 - 30! But, come on, that's good deal, yeah?"

"Nico, I - "

"Please? I'll drive you on the way there. I will not be a bother."

V felt cornered. The woman looked really excited that he would surely feel guilty if he refused her.

Him, Griffon, Shadow, probably Nightmare, as well, and finally, Nico.

What could go wrong with this simple task of driving away a single evil spirit from someone's home with some comrades? After all, Avery did say he could bring just about anyone.

And what does her house look like, anyway? And what was the reason behind this Poltergeist's ceaseless haunting?

***

✒ P.S. I Love You ✒

***

~ A V X Reader set in a modern Alternate Universe.

~ Life goes back to normal after the fall of Urizen, the Demon King. V, one of the Demon Hunters who survived the demonic invasion, officially joins Devil May Cry and takes on small jobs to make ends meet. One day, a female client hires him to drive away an evil spirit that haunts her home. Along with Nico, who brings along her new state - of - the - art gadgets to help him on his new mission, and his familiars, Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare, V moves to his client's home - a mansion rich with history, both happy and dark. And in that mansion, he finds a diary that once belonged to the client's great grandmother, a woman named (Y/N) (L/N), who is, somehow, connected to the hauntings of the restless spirit he must drive out.

~ A Halloween special from yours, truly. Enjoy. 🖤🖤🖤

***

✒ A special thanks to @la-vita for introducing us to Avery L. Edwards. ✒

✒ @micaelagua ✒

***

✒✒✒

***

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 210: Put-Downs, Poltergeists, and Plot Twists

Previously on BnHA: Bakugou’s team defeated class B in record time. Everyone praised them for their flawless performance, and All Might told Bakugou he got chills watching him and Bakugou got super embarrassed and mumbled something and walked off and it was in my Top 10 Cutest BnHA Moments and I love it. Then Deku came along to shower some more praise on him and the two of them went back and forth all “I’m gonna surpass you!” “no, I’m gonna surpass you!” for a little bit and that was really cute as well. Monoma took Tokage’s loss in stride and hashed out a strategy with his team that mostly consists of “take out Deku no matter what.” Deku, meanwhile, was all fired up after his talk with Kacchan, and confidently told his team they would definitely win, and this boy is looking more and more like a hero with each passing day, no joke. Round 5 started up, and All Might got a call from Gran Torino, and then we cut to Tartarus, where the guards were bitching about how dangerous All for One is, and the man in question was sitting in his cell grinning because apparently he can “hear [his] little brother’s voice.” Uh, what the fuck.

Today on BnHA: Gran is all “oh yeah now that you mention it, Nana totally did tell me about some freaky OFA dream bullshit a while back.” Apparently in the dream, a mysterious man shrouded in fog told Nana that it wasn’t “that time. not yet.” Meanwhile Deku full cowls his way through the stage on the lookout for Shinsou. Instead he finds Monoma, who activates his secondary quirk, Antagonize no Jutsu, presumably in hopes of getting Deku to respond so that he can ensnare him with the brainwashing quirk. But Deku is a smart cookie and keeps his mouth shut, even when he hears a scream that sounds like it might have come from Ochako. It didn’t, of course, but in fairness Ochako, Mina, and Mineta are being attacked by Yanagi, Kodai, and Shouda, who have combined their quirks to fling heavy objects at them all. But anyways, so Monoma is all “btw can we talk about how Bakugou destroyed the Symbol of Peace, though,” which, wow, and that does piss Deku off enough to fire an Air Gun attack at him! Or at least that’s what he intends to do. Instead what happens is... well. Something different. Seems like it might finally be That Time, now.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 224, so any ETAs will reflect that.) 

so we’re opening with All Might standing off to the side and trying to tell Gran to call him back later because he’s in the middle of class

but Gran is just immediately launching into conversation about how Shimura did in fact once tell him something about “a One for All dream” omg

and All Might is all “and you’re only just telling me this now!?”

and Gran says he didn’t remember until All Might asked him about it

his excuse is that he’s old. whatever, Gran!

“so listen up, but don’t expect much”

listen mister, I’ll expect as much as I damn well please. my plot-spoiled self knows full well that in this case there is a hell of a lot to expect! and I for one am fucking excited about it!

so now we’re cutting back to Team Deku and our boy is sprinting along while the flashback dialogue bubbles recount his strategy

oh shit hold up

...so it occurs to me again that that’s exactly what triggered his first One for All: Avatar State experience to begin with though, way back when. Shinsou brainwashed him and then the Ghosts of One for Alls Past appeared for the first time and activated OFA without him being aware of it -- very much like what happened the night right before this training exercise

and now here he is fresh from that weird dream and possibly about to be brainwashed for a second time. is this really a coincidence? seeing as I’m reading a fucking manga, I’m gonna go ahead and say hell no

shit now I’m even more excited

so Iida is observing that Team Deku’s formation looks similar to Team Bakugou’s, and Sero says that’s not a surprise since they’re similarly balanced. true that

but he’s pointing out that they don’t have a Jirou -- someone who can pinpoint the enemy’s location -- so they need to be more careful

yeah, especially since unlike Team Kacchan, they’re up against Shinsou who can take out their most powerful player in a second if he hits them unawares

anyways don’t mind me I’m just gonna post this part here

so Bakugou watching Deku without that characteristic over-the-top seething rage is still such a novel thing, though. him feeling threatened by Deku’s growth was really the key thing holding that relationship back. now that that’s no longer an issue, he’s observing this match with a surprisingly keen intensity

and what I love about this is that it’s exactly what he said he was gonna do back in chapter 121. he vowed that he would observe and absorb what he sees from others in the same way that Deku does in order to become stronger. he’s watching this match so intently because he wants to learn from Deku. do I even need to say how big of a deal that is and how far he’s come? just, wow

so Deku’s coming to a halt on one of the pipes and he’s silently pointing to something

okay so he’s putting his plan of “I’ll be a decoy” into action

seems like this is his way of compensating for his team not having a Jirou. if they can’t pinpoint class B’s location, they’ll just draw them out instead

now an oil drum is tumbling out from somewhere and it seems like it’s caught his attention

who’s Yanagi. lol I guess we’re about to see, what with the HERE IT COMES

OH SHIT

DEKU IF YOU THINK FOR A SECOND THAT’S HER... COME ON MAN, YOU’RE SMARTER THAN THIS

so he’s turning around and Monoma is there

don’t you dare fucking respond you little green bean. just kick him in the head and knock his ass out. this is a training exercise, you know Ochako’s not at any actual risk. and she can handle herself. these guys are gonna be banking on your heroic instincts in the same way the previous team was counting on Kacchan to be the same self-centered asshole he always was before. you guys are so fucking strong the only way they can beat you is by exploiting your mental weaknesses

oh snap Monoma’s holding up his pocketwatches. way back when his costume was first revealed I speculated that he might use them to time his quirk, so I guess we’ll see if that’s the case? I suppose they could also be support items and have some unexpected tricks to them

anyway he’s talking a lot, as usual

a clever person would also think “I’d better not respond to his baiting here since that’s obviously what he wants”

having said that, Monoma’s not wrong. that would be a good strategy for them to actually have. but I don’t think it’s their real strategy lol

ahh, good, Deku is being clever and cautious and knows better than to respond to him

lol so Deku just go KO him already! why are you keeping your distance?? you once said back at Kamino that you could make it from where you were standing to where Kacchan was in under a second with one leap using OFA. that’s fucking fast. you’re faster than the kid who basically fucking teleported in between Kamakiri and Jirou a couple chapters ago. just zoom over to Monoma and kick him in the head. come on. do it

jesus christ Monoma knows what his strengths are doesn’t he

he knows how to fuck with his opponent, I’ll give him that

so now Deku is finally leaping toward him like I said! about time

not sure if that’s actually the case, but he’s probably not too far off the mark, and I think he’s making the best possible move here given what he knows

uh oh

what is he doing

OH FUCK ME

OH FUCK NO MONOMA. YOU DID NOT JUST

WHAT THE HELL DUDE. IS YOUR SPECIALTY BELOW-THE-BELT ATTACKS OR WHAT?? COME ON OVER AND SAY THAT TO BAKUGOU’S FUCKING FACE WHY DON’T YOU. JESUS CHRIST THAT WAS LOW AS FUCK

and obviously he’s just trying to provoke Deku into responding still! but man, what a way to do it! you’ll resort to anything, huh??

do they have sound on those viewscreens, or just visual? I feel like it’s both, though I’m not gonna stop and go back and check right this second. anyways I’m just wondering if Kacchan heard that, since we know all too well he does feel personally responsible, and now here’s Monoma trying to poke at this recently-healed wound and reopen it again. and Dad Might is probably still on the phone with Gran. damn it Monoma you better not have sent him spiraling again. I will send you the therapy bills

(ETA: so yeah, they absolutely do have audio, it was confirmed in chapter 197. so Kacchan did indeed get to hear that, and everyone else heard it too, and it was probably super awkward, and probably would have been even more so had Deku’s arm not fucking exploded with his goth red vines quirk mere seconds later causing everyone to pretty much forget about anything else.

and by the way, can we just quickly touch on the fact that Hellboy later explains to Deku that “if you wield your power in anger, the power will respond accordingly”? in other words, Monoma pissed him off so much here that he went and activated a quirk he didn’t even know he had and it proceeded to go on a roaring rampage of revenge. so what have we learned today, kids? don’t insult the boyfriend, is what.)

anyway the good thing is Deku’s aiming his air gun at him and still isn’t responding, although he does look fucking furious and no wonder

now we’re cutting back to Team Float/Melt/Stick

and we’re confirming that the “kyaah” was indeed Shinsou which of course it fucking was. Ochako doesn’t KYAA, she ain’t no fucking damsel in distress

lol now I want to see it too

so Ochako’s reminding the others to look at each other’s faces when they talk

what have you been up to Mineta

holy shit a whole fucking lot got stuck to it. what the hell is this anyway

Mina’s protecting them all with a veil of acid, which is fucking badass. Mina I love you

and now we’re cutting to Shouda for a second and he’s watching them and says “they vanished”...?

ah!!!

IS THIS A TELEKINESIS QUIRK!? AT LONG LAST???

HOLY SHIT

THAT’S LIKE FUCKING COMPRESS’S QUIRK. WE’RE GOING FULL ANT-MAN UP IN THIS BITCH. HOLY SHIT CLASS B, IT’S JUST BADASS QUIRKS ALL THE WAY DOWN WITH YOU GUYS HUH

holy shit. I love both of these, but the size quirk especially. that’s so fucking good. I wish she was in class A now, ngl. so many potential applications of this

and how many quirks can Monoma handle at once? he had three pocket watches so I’m gonna go with three. so I’m assuming he took both of theirs along with Shinsou’s, since he was also floating small objects earlier

Ochako’s a good person to have against a quirk like this, though!

and now just smack them away again! take that

NOW WHAT

what the hell

sob omg

I would just like to point out that this was a WAAGH and not a KYAA though. for the record. even when they’re being attacked by rampaging thooming metal objects, class A does not KYAA. we die like men

so here are the deets!

telekinesis quirk confirmed yessssss. this is like a way upgraded version of Inko’s quirk. so glad we finally get to see a hero do this shit too

Kodai’s quirk is so badass and I love it. though it’s too bad she can’t shrink people too. lots of hijinks potential there. ah well

and Shouda’s quirk too!

ngl, I read this and I was like ‘what.’ I had to reread it several times and then go look him up in the wiki just to make sure I got it. this is one of those cases where a “for example” would have really come in handy. but anyways I think what this means is if someone hit a baseball, then he could recreate that impact in the same spot a second time, and not only that but the second impact would be stronger by several orders of magnitude. idk it’s weird and confusing

(ETA: seeing it in action later helped me understand the concept better, but I still for the life of me can’t explain it in words lol. super cool quirk though.)

anyway so even though all this crazy stuff is going on, neither team has actually come face to face with the other yet and they’re all still attacking each other from a distance, except for Deku and Monoma. so now Ochako’s wondering what happened to Deku

and now back to All Might! damn, Horikoshi, you sure know how to cut away from something just when it was getting good

so Gran says it’s probably not what All Might was looking for, but right around when Shimura first inherited One for All, he and her had a casual conversation whilst on patrol

NO, DEKU!!

WHY DID YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH DAMMIT

WHAT’S GOING ON OH MY GOD. ALL OF A SUDDEN ALL OF MY FAVES LOOK SHOCKED

oh I know this. “plaaaaay the best song in the world. or I’ll eat your souls.” so we played the first thing that came to our heads and it just so happened to be the best song in the world. it was the best song in the world

lol okay so let’s see why they all seem so shocked. IS IT THE SPOILER!?!?

IT’S NOT? OKAY? WHO ARE YOU??

(ETA: this is just the continuation of Gran’s story from the previous page, doy.)

WHAT THE FUCK

okay then! lol. well that explains the “wtf” expressions

so what exactly was Deku about to do that OFA took over and was like DEKU NO. were you going to fucking kill Monoma over insulting your boyfriend. is there some reason OFA lost its fucking shit and activated one of his secondary quirks for the very first (or second, I guess) time, right here and right now? or is the “it’s not that time” what the old man said in Shimura’s dream, and now with Deku it finally is that time?

oh my god. even knowing a little about what’s going on, I still really have no clue and I fucking love it. this is insanely cool and tbh the Joint Training arc is like #4 on my list now and will possibly be #3 by the time all is said and done. IMO this twist is cool and unexpected and will make future battles much less boring (because let’s be honest, Deku’s last couple of fights were really not all that dynamic. this is definitely going to help vary things up a bit), and I can’t wait to see how All Might and Kacchan react too omg

just. thumbs up from me

[gillian-ybabez]

Cold Spots

Summer so far had been especially hot. Sweltering as they say. Our small window mounted AC unit had given up and died a week earlier. Even with the windows open, it was hard to keep our apartment bearable. So we were sitting on the stoop, which was at least on the shady side of the building.

The apartment complex was low rent, part government housing, and not gated in any way so it wasn’t uncommon to see people walking through that didn’t live there. This one guy stood out though. He was walking from building to building offering tenants, also sitting on their stoops, flyers. Again not unusual but the closed trench coat he was wearing stood out.

When he got close to us, I noticed another odd thing, he wasn’t sweating. Even without a trench coat covering most of his body, I would have expected at least a sheen of sweat. He should have been drenched, sweat dripping from his hair, but instead, he looked as cool as a cucumber.

“Hello, ladies,” he said while reaching into his coat. I sat up straighter, tensing until he pulled a pamphlet out and offered it to me. The title read, “Beat the heat!!” with clip art flames on the bottom.

“Sorry, we’re not interested,” I said. Probably a recruiter for a cult.

“You haven’t even heard what I’m offering.” He smiled a genuine, honest, open smile that was still a salesman’s smile. I glanced at Selene, who shrugged, so I took the pamphlet from him.

“Okay, what are you selling?” I asked flipping open the pamphlet. Inside were instructions on drawing sigils and their placement within rooms.

“First I need to ask, do you believe in ghosts?”

“Only on the weekends and holidays,” Selene said.

“Sometimes,” I said.

“Have you ever walked into a room and felt a cold spot or heard of someone experiencing a cold spot in their home?”

Selene laughed. “I’ve heard about that.”

“Good, you know ghosts can affect the ambient temperature of a room in one spot at least. Now, what if you could move the ghost around the room in a controlled manner?”

“Are you talking about cooling a house with a ghost?”

“Exactly. The pamphlet, which is yours to keep for free, has instructions on how to draw the ghost management sigils and where to place them in your home.”

“So you’re giving away your big idea for free?” I asked.

“The idea is too easy to share and duplicate to bother selling. I sell ghosts to power the cooling system.” He reached deep into one of his pockets and pulled out a small octagon box wrapped in string with a wax seal on top.

Selene leaned forward to squint at the box. “So, you’ve got some grandma’s soul trapped in a box and you’re just going to sell it to us to cool our apartment?”

“Not at all. Our spirits are ethically sourced. We do not deal in souls or remnants or poltergeists.”

“How do you ‘ethically source’ something that comes from dead people?”

“The spirits-”

“Ah, so they are souls!” Selene crowed.

The man’s smile slipped to a tight grin. “Spirit is a layperson term we use for the psychically active emotional energy we collect from donors at the time of there death. It’s no different than organ donation.”

“Except there’s a huge difference between a liver and a soul.”

He sighed and began reciting from memory, “We don’t collect souls. At the time of death, a person releases a burst of psychic energy that usually dissipates quickly. In the case of violent or traumatic death part or all of the soul can become attached to this energy creating a classic ghost, remnant, or poltergeist. Since we only collect in clinical settings our donors die peacefully with no chance of that happening.”

“That actually does sound on the up and up.”

“So, are you interested in buying your first spirit, I mean psychically active emotion energy ball?” His smile returned in full force.

“How much?” I asked

“Seven hundred dollars.”

“We could buy three AC units for that much.”

“True but this is a cooling system that will never break down and won’t run up your electric bill.”

“Sorry, we’re not interested. Have you made any sales around here?”

“Nope.” He returned the sealed box to his coat pocket.

“I didn’t think so. Most people around here can barely afford regular ACs.”

The man shrugged. “I’m aware of the financial situation of the area but you can’t find new markets without looking for them. Well, it’s been a pleasure talking to you ladies but I must be moving on.”

I watched him walk off to the next building and start his spiel over again.

“Do you think this could actually work?” I asked looking over the sigils closely. Selene touched the final example and mumbled words under her breath. The black ink flashed red and a shock ran up one of my arms and down the other. I dropped the pamphlet. “Damn, warn me before you do something like that.”

“Seems to be a stable containment sigil. A bit more general purpose than I would use but serviceable. The idea is sound if slightly unethical in most cases.”

“What about George? He wasn’t a very nice person when he was alive. It would almost be fitting to put him to work cooling the apartment.”

“You said released his energies.”

“Maybe I only confined him to the cupboard over the fridge? Look we never use those cupboards anyway and it was easier than passing him over.”

“Hmm, well as long as we have a ghost we don’t mind tormenting let’s give it a whirl.”

"Cold Spots" was also posted on my website, Gillian's Notebook, home of my writing. Help support my writing by becoming a patron. Reblogs help to spread my writing to new readers.

[pigeonacademic]

School Story I’m Working On

Everyone has their own personal monster; their own boogeyman who keeps them up at night, the thing whispering behind their backs.

 Then you have me, someone who is constantly surrounded by such creatures, because I happened to live in a house where a lot of witchcraft took place in.

I was twenty at the time, had barely enough money to move out of my parents’ house and had found this quaint old house that had a very low price. At that point I didn’t care about having to fix up a dingy old place by myself, and bought it as soon as I got the look-around.

 Unfortunately, I was not warned about the house’s current residents; several demons, spirits and who knows what other kinds of entities are hanging around.

 I’ve been here for almost two years now, and I’m pretty much used to the bizarre things that would have driven most people away. That, and the fact that I’m dirt poor and can’t afford to move.

 As far as my, ahem, ‘housemates’ go, none of them are really all that dangerous. Some can be-for example, the demon that lives in the bathroom- but they’re all pretty chill, as long as you don’t do anything to threaten them.

The bathroom demon was the first one I encountered, and all I’m going to say that it’s a good thing I was on the toilet at the time.  Afterwards, I got to meet each of the residents throughout my first two weeks there.

 The bathroom demon is named Lazuleth, and he is arguably one of the most dangerous demons there, but why he chooses to camp out in a bathroom of all places instead of somewhere more aesthetically spooky, like the attic, is beyond me. As long as he doesn’t use up my shampoo I guess it can’t be too bad.

One of the things I’ve learnt to deal with is Lazuleth trying to scare me every morning when I go into the bathroom; I nearly wet myself after he popped out of the toilet-an idea he got while watching Ghoulies. (Side note: Lazuleth is no longer invited to Movie Night.)

Another thing I had to put up with from him is when he’s using the shower-I mean, I prefer a clean demon to a smelly one-but he racks up my water bill, AND he’s always taking a shower right when I need one.  If I have to be somewhere, I usually shower before I go, but he takes ages, belting out some song in a language which I can only describe as gurgles and choking noises, and by the time I get in all the hot water is gone. Thanks a lot, Lazuleth.

Lazuleth may be a pain sometimes, but I admit he has grown on me, like a wart.

  Aside from the bathroom demon, there is also a kitchen ghost, Mildred. Mildred used to be the cook for the owner of the house back in the really late 1800s, but passed away in 1945 at the age of 80 due to natural causes. Because she loved the house so much, she decided to stick around, and she’s great company.

When I first met Mildred, I thought that an old woman had broken into my home-she has a fully corporal form, until she turned around from the stove to look at me, and I saw she was translucent.

 Occasionally some other ghosts join Mildred in her kitchen rounds; there’s Hubert and his Happy Hopping Hamsters, an animal trainer and entertainer who died in 1978 from a rattlesnake bite while he had been feeding his snakes. His hamsters, Eeny, Meeny, Miny and Moe were eaten by the same rattlesnake after it had slithered out of its tank and made a beeline for the rodent isle.

 From the kitchen, there is the sitting room, where Gilbert the Poltergeist has the run of the place. Gilbert isn’t THAT bad, but I have learned that anything that hasn’t been tied or nailed down will be thrown whenever he wants to cause trouble. I still haven’t forgiven him for breaking one of my special edition horse figurines that took me months to find.

Another thing Gilbert likes to do is scare my guests. Normally all the house residents are on their best behavior when my friends come over, but Gilbert usually does a few things in order to put them on edge, including lifting my friend’s pug, Wiggles, up about five feet before gently setting him back down. Since then, Stacy and Wiggles haven’t been back.

 Moving on from Gilbert, there is a hallway with a lot of mirrors. As you probably guessed, there is a mirror demon, who likes to follow you as you walk down it. I’ve learned to ignore him for the most part, even if his eyes do creep me out.

Aside from the mirror demon, there is also a ghost that shares the mirror. Betty pops up at random times to make a comment on my appearance for the day (“I do declare, the length of those cargo shorts is far too short for a lady! One-two-three, NEVER above the knee!”) and gives me advice on how to fix my appearance. Considering she was a stylist’s assistant in the 1930s (before her untimely death from an infection) I often go to her for advice whenever I’m going for an interview and dates.

 -

@ufolotus @dusty-gravedigger @diaroon @nanasketchdump @dorkshadows @shinigami-mistress

What do you guys think?

[shinobicyrus]

“Haunted”

A belated birthday present for my very good friend @beccadrawsstuff, who wished for something involving any of her OCs. I decided to do something with her character Phuong, Tucker’s eventual wife. Happy Birthday Becs! Sorry this was so late!

“Oh hun. Nobody warned you about Amity before you moved here, did they?”

Phuong was already having second thoughts about calling that number Linh had given her. The woman who answered Fenton Works’ main line was disarmingly chipper, and seemed to accept Phuong’s stuttered, embarrassed explanation of the situation without an ounce of skepticism. 

“I don’t usually work the phones but we’re actually kind of short staffed at the moment,” Phuong had already forgotten her name. Something with an ‘i’? “It doesn’t sound like bloody threats on the walls or ectoplasm clogging the sink level of haunting; we can get a guy over to you tomorrow afternoon, about eleven. Is that okay?”

No, it was perfectly fine. Just the right amount of time for Phuong to hang up and feel foolish for being desperate and jumpy and gullible enough to resort to this, no matter how many times Linh tried to explain it to her. There were so many logical, non-paranormal explanations that made sense, considering her circumstances. Moving to an unfamiliar town, new apartment with its own quirks and night-noises, she wasn’t used to living alone. It had only been two months since the funeral. 

She still had a little camp-out in the living room with her laptop, armored with blankets and the tried and true childhood defense against all manner of monsters by leaving every light on, electric bill be damned. Because she was an adult, dammit.

The pendulum had swung again by morning, frazzled and on edge from yet another sleepless night, the back of her neck prickling with the constant, persistent sensation of not being Alone. She almost jumped out of her skin when the intercom buzzed. 

Past the point of caring, Phuong answered the door with her hair uncombed since yesterday, still wearing sweats and a t-shirt. She didn’t know what she expected- Bill Murray? (preferable) a shifty guy in a tacky redone exterminator’s jumpsuit but for ghosts? (likely) Kate McKinnon? (If only).

....a handsome man with tied-back dreadlocks and a tacky but endearing Pacific Rim t-shirt?

“Uh...Ms. Lôc Thi?” He shifted awkwardly trying to balance the gear hanging off his shoulder, shake her hand, and nudge up the black-rimmed glasses that almost hid the tired bags under his eyes. Phuong was impressed- the pronunciation wasn’t half bad. “I’m Tucker. I hear you’re having a bit of a ghost problem?”

“Lacking a better explanation? Yeah.”

He smiled wryly, like he was enjoying an inside joke. “Just moved here, huh?”

“Why do people keeping knowing that?”

“If you make it past six months, I’m sure you’ll be snerking at tourists with the best of ‘em,” He said, and motioned behind her. “May I come in?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Against her better judgement, she stepped aside and let him in. “And what’s that supposed to mean, ‘if I make it six months’?”

“Most people move away before then,” He glanced around her entryway- like he could spot...ghost droppings, or something- spotted her shoes on the mat, and shuffled out of his sneakers. “Didn’t you wonder why the rent was so low?”

She did, actually, but as a grad racing to finish her degree and juggle a job before her loan eligibility expired, she wasn’t in much a position to complain. “I considered mentioning to the landlord that he was undercharging me, but I haven’t gotten around to it, yet.”

“Ha, I’m sure it’s on the top of your To Do list,” he said good-naturedly. The...case hanging on this shoulder reminded Phuong of old sound equipment- thick like a nineties laptop. Tucker walked further into her house, quiet and intrusive in his mismatched superhero socks, and started waving a wand around like some kind of Geiger counter. 

“I heard you talked with Dani.” Phuong resisted scampering over and hiding all the wreckage of her camp-out on the couch. Tucker went by a sad pile of discarded clothes, studying the readings on his...thingy. “She said something about noises? Like people moving in empty rooms? Whispers? Things getting moved?”

“It’s...it’s crazy,” Phuong shook her head, like she wasn’t the one who had called them. “It was probably my neighbors. They’re always too loud.”

"Hmm. Yeah, my neighbors like to break into my place and rearrange my dishes too,” He said, with the same kind of sarcasm Phuong had mastered after years of customer service jobs- so subtle people weren’t sure it was serious or not.

Having taking his ‘readings’ in her living room, he did a cursory sweep over her shelves upon shelves of movies and moved on to the kitchen. 

Phuong stood in the threshold and crossed her arms, biting back a good Ghostbusters joke as he examined her fridge. “Well having a neighbor with a sick sense of humor and a Poltergeist fetish sounds slightly more logical than ‘dead people did it.’” Or it could be like that woman who secretly lived in someone’s attic for years, only coming out when he left. That was an internet search result that had her jumping at every thump on the ceiling. She’d almost prefer grumpy dead people.

“This house is cleeeaan,” Tucker said in a tinny, breathy imitation. He held up his buzzing doodad. “But seriously though, this place actually isn’t clean. It’s pretty dang un-clean.”

“What...is that thing?” 

“It has a really, really stupid name,” He sighed. “But it says there’s a...’Level-1 Non-Manifesting Entity’ here. Level 1 is good. Non-manifesting is even better. But uh...just to be safe, how about we step outside for a sec-”

“So what does that all mean? Your -airquotes- ‘device’ magically detects a completely invisible and unverifiable thing-”

“Did you just say ‘airquotes?’”

“-that you can conveniently get rid of with- let me guess- an application of super scientific snake oil- ”

“Actually it’s called ecto-rejcto...” He raised his hands and glanced around the kitchen warily. “But maybe we can talk about that not in the apartment.”

“I tried being open-minded, I really did. And you seem like a nice guy but I’ve been letting my own issues play tricks on me and I’ve let this farce about ‘hauntings’ and ‘ghost exterminators’ play long enough, so I’m saying sorry in a polite but not really sorry way and the bill be damned but I think I’d like you to leave and-”

Tucker raised a careful eyebrow at her. “...and what?”

And there was a kitchen knife floating next to his head. 

A kitchen knife. Floating.

By itself.

Phuong moved without thinking. Tucker backed away from her, startled, and she shoved him back against the cabinets half a second before the knife flew between them. The half of the blade not embedded in the wall quivered. 

The fridge rumbled and rattled like a phone, trying to vibrate off a table. The cabinets flapped with angry wooden claps, dishes hurled themselves in a ceramic mass suicide. 

Green, spectral hands came next, grasping the edge of the sink pulling...something up. See-through, casting a green glow that thickened and congealed on itss iridescent edges like nuclear waste. A goddamn ghost with a mass of eyes bubbling and popping on its face like zits split open its almost-head like a wound and hissed directly at her. A gaping maw of needle teeth, accusing and furious. 

Tuck stepped in front of her. The wand dangled from a cord at his side. beeping urgently until he picked it up. 

“’Possible Level 3 Hazardous Malefactor.’” He let the thing drop. “Thanks, Jack.”

Phuong clung to his shoulder. “What do we do?”

Every single eyeball crammed on the ghost’s headmouthface swiveled at them simultaneously. 

“Run.”

Phuong ran. She turned and bolted for the front door. Tucker grabbed her shoulder and pulled her off-balance. The ghost barreled past where she’d just been, now between them and the only way out of the apartment- unless they wanted to fly out the windo-

The window!

“Bedroom to the left!” She said. “Fire escape!” 

Down the hall, feet thumping. Phuong didn’t look behind them but saw the glow chasing them across the walls. Did ghosts even cast a shadow? You had to have a body for a shadow, right? Not having a body didn’t seem to deter it from doing lots of things. 

Phuong slammed the door and locked it. 

“Nooot really gonna stop it much,” Tucker told her, right as a green claw reached through the door and blindly swiped at her. Phuong backed away, watching as the rest of it pushed itself though it, more green slime poured from the dead wood like ghostly sap.

Tucker had thrown his case on the bed and was assembling something. “Hey, Tuck, do you mind taking care of this lady’s apartment?” He mimicked phone-girl’s voice. “Don’t worry, it sounds like a total snooze. You'll be fine!’” 

Phoung ran to him. “What are you doing?!” She noticed the metal cylinder he was screwing together. “Is that a thermos? What the hell good is a thermos going to do?!”

“Trust in the thermos the thermos is good.”

The ghost slipped through the door, eyes twitching in every which direction, its mouth moved and spoke gibberish that sounded like warbling white noise

Tucker raised the thermos at its face. It paused. Every eye peered down it.

“’sup.” He said.

“Gragh?” It asked. 

“I don’t really have a good one-liner so...bye.” He pushed a button on the side of it.

A light poured from the end of the thermos. The ghost recoiled instantly- but was unable to pull away. As though it were caught in a vacuum, the ghost screeched and hissed and struggled, but its face hideously stretched until its entire vaporous body unraveled and swirled, caught in a vortex of light until in it was pulled into the thermos entirely. 

Tucker released the button and held the smoking thermos. “Consider yourself evicted. Wait- dammit! That was a good one, too.”

Phuong stared at the thermos. Already the smoke around it was clearing. It obviously wasn’t hot, since Tucker was easily holding it. That thing was just...gone. 

Holy crap there had been real ghost in her house and it just tried to kill her. Kill them. 

She almost died. Would have died, if it weren’t for him. 

She should. Probably say something. 

“...does this mean you’re charging me extra?”

Tucker let out a surprised laugh, hands shaky and slightly giddy from adrenaline. “Well...you did save me from getting shish-kebabed. I think I can throw in a discount somewhere in there.”

He stayed and helped her clean up. 

Her sink was covered with green goo, there was a knife in her kitchen wall, claw marks raking down her hallway, and one of her movie shelves had been knocked over. Phuong was almost...thankful for it. It was a physical reminder that it had been real. It had happened. 

Tucker made a quick call back to Fentonworks to explain the situation. By some strange consensus, the two of them started on the living room, up-righting the shelf and reorganizing the dusty dvds that were scattered around. At least nothing had been badly damaged- though it did give Tucker an opportunity to poke fun at her tastes. 

“I’ve never even heard of most of these movies,” Tucker read the back of The Grand Budapest Hotel, completely unaware of the blasphemy he had just uttered.

“This isn’t even the shelf of my of obscure films- that was a pretty big hit.”

“Meh, doesn’t sound like it’s for me.”

“If you hadn’t just saved my life I’d be tempted to throw you out the window on principle. Headfirst.”

“I’ll just have to take full advantage of your good graces for as long as I can.”

Phuong blushed. Tucker went back to sorting DVD boxes, completely unaware.

“You and my friend Sam would get along pretty well,” Tucker squinted at A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence. “She’s a movie hipster too.”

“Having tastes outside of the celluloid fast food Hollywood calls cinema doesn’t make me a ‘movie hipster’.”

“Hey, some of us plebeians like our double-unnecessary sequel burgers with a side of fried Michael Bay Explosions.”

“That mixed metaphor just offended several of my sensibilities all at the same time.”

“I’m multi-talented.”

“Okay, Mr. Foley. I’ll give you one chance to redeem yourself. Name one movie that you think was an underrated gem.”

“The Wicker Man.”

“Okay, I’m actually kind of impressed. Most people wouldn’t-”

“The Nick Cage remake.”

Slowly, Phuong stood, dropped the pile of movies she had been organizing, and made to walk to the kitchen.

“Uh...where are you going?”

“To pry that knife out of the wall. I finally understand it, now.”

Sam, as it turned out, was one of Tucker’s best friends from high school, and had married his other friend from high school, Danny, whose family were the town’s local inventors and ghost-hunters, a phrase Phuong would have laughed over a few hours earlier.

Sam was currently recovering from a difficult pregnancy, and both new parents had their hands full with their newborn son- and Tucker’s godson. He gushed over the photos of little James in his phone, explaining how he volunteered to pick up the slack at Fentonworks. 

“So you’re more like a...substitute ghost hunter? How do you even prepare for something like...” Phuong gestured at the damage around her apartment. “This?”

“It’s called four years at Casper High. I’m pretty sure half our graduating class could be used as an anti-ghost militia in case we get invaded again. Actually, come to think of it, that totally did happen one time. We all got matching jumpsuits.”

“At this point you could actually be bullshitting me and I’d have no idea.”

Tucker eyed her incredulously. “You seriously knew nothing about Amity when you moved here? I know the government purges youtube and major news stories about it whenever they can, but still...”

“I wasn’t really...” Phuong stopped scrubbing the ectoplasm in her sink. “It’s been a crazy few months. There were so many things going on, finding a town with ridiculously low apartments for rent seemed like the only piece of good luck I’ve had in a long time.” She scrubbed a little harder, the rhythmic scrape scrape scrape of her brush syncing with Tucker sweeping up broken dishes behind her. 

“Do you want to hear something stupid?”

Tucker stopped sweeping briefly, then started again. “I doubt it’s stupid, but go ahead.”

“For a while there, when the noises, and the rearranging furniture, and the whispering at night finally started getting to me- when I started not completely dismissing my cousin when she tried to explain what was going on in this town- I thought.” She braced both of her hands on the lip of the sink, right over the stained handprints of the monster that made her life miserable in more ways that even it knew. 

“A part of me thought- that maybe. That it might have been my dad.”

“I’ve seen a few family haunts. Not all of them were bad. We even left some of ‘em alone. You called us because that ghost was practically terrorizing you. Do you think your dad would have done that to you, if it really had been him?”

Phuong started scrubbing the sink again, not sure how to answer.

“Hey.”

Tucker turned. He stood in her doorway again, the thermos with the captured ghost safely stored in the case against his hip. 

“So...” Phuong clasped her hands in front of her, trying not to fidget. This was a bad idea, but it was one of those bad ideas where not doing it was worse than the act itself. “I don’t really. Well. I know that technically I’m your client. Or you are -technically- an employee I’ve hired. But I think we can both agree that this was a bit more atypical than calling the Orkin Man, since we ended up saving each other lives, and all. I was wondering if- maybe- when you leave and you’re no longer here because you’re doing a favor as a good friend or because I’m paying you. If, maybe, it would be okay if I took you out to dinner. As a thank you.”

Tucker stared with the look a man completely taken by surprise. Which, really, surprised her. Sure, his taste in movies was terrible, but he was a smart, funny, attractive man who carried baby pictures of his godson in his phone, helped out his close friends, and rescued aspiring movie critics from vicious monsters. 

“Dinner.” Tucker said, voice faint. “Sorry, I’m just. I don’t want to be that guy-misreading signals and making embarrassing assumptions that will end with neither of us speaking again but- it kinda sounds like you’re asking me out on a date.”

“I-” Phuong considered a few good lines ‘sounds like you’re right’ or ‘I can’t speak for that guy but I’m okay with ‘this’ guy. No. He’s asking straight-up for for a clear answer. No beating around the bush. “Yes. I’m asking you out on a date. I’m not sure how we’re gonna top ‘saving my life from killer ghosts’ but I know a really great Italian place with gnocchi that will do its best.”

“Oh.” That was not a guy enthused with the prospect of going out with a lady. Phuong was already feeling a preemptive stab of rejection but kept her face even. “I’m sorry,” Tucker rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m...I’m flattered. Really. You have no idea how big of a boost this is considering- well.” He adjusted his glasses and looked at her with those baggy, tired eyes. “I was just married until about six months ago. It was...” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “As far as divorces go, my lawyer said it was a pretty clean break, but there were still things that ended up...broken.

“Again- I’m really flattered, and I’m really sorry that I can’t. That I’m not in the best place to start trying to pick all that back up again. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Maybe it was her own disappointment, maybe it was the heaviness of his shoulders, or the heartsore look in his eyes. Maybe she was a tad biased because of the life-saving thing, but whoever Tucker Foley’s ex-spouse was, they were officially on Phuong’s shit-list for All Time.

She doesn’t remember how long they stood there. Her in her recently haunted apartment, him standing in the hall. Finally, she found her voice.

“How about a quiet, non-romantic lunch, instead? As...friends?”

“Yeah,” Tucker nodded, the weight in his shoulders relaxing some. “I...I think I can handle that.”