#and when she told him about it he didn't put in the necessary measures to keep her safe or Jimmy accountable

[appri-dot]

I might say something evil and scary about a fandom right now

[justpoliteconversations]

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 4)

Link learns some things. And so do you.

Yet another for the ever growing pile of self-indulgent garbage refuse. Enjoy the process of decomposition with me for a while.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

The yiga. A faction of Ganon worshipping traitors formerly of the Sheikah clan, whose main objective is to kill the Hero known as Link (in other words, himself). Known for their distinctive red body suits and white masks. And, strangely enough, their love of bananas.

They were also currently at the very top of Link's (until recently non-existent) shit list, because AM had deemed their threat level too great to allow them to meet each other freely. As Blue had told him, AM's profession placed them at greater danger than the average citizen to the assassins' blades. What that profession was, Link was not told (despite his pleading and intense stares and even one memorable attempt to bargain for the information), but it was deemed necessary to maintain distance because of this.

There were plenty of other useful things in the book too. Not a letter or a note or even a small bundle of documents. A book. An honest to Goddess book. Because there was nothing else the ridiculously thick, neatly piled collection of leather bound miscellaneous papers, maps, diagrams, notes and documents could be. It was the thickness of Link's hand for goodness sakes.

Thankfully, Blue had taken mercy on him (and his desire to get moving as soon as possible) and bookmarked the pages and maps that would be most useful to him. All while giving him that bland, graceful smile of hers and explaining that AM was a very proactive information gatherer, but that they didn't always consider that not everyone wanted to know the exact region Sneaky snails bred in or where the highest priced wheat could be found.

Link very deliberately didn't tell her that he did, in fact, find those very interesting topics to learn about (and that he would be reading through the entire book when he got the chance. later). Because he was still stung that she'd given him a condescending little smile (smirk, it was a damned smirk and Link knew it) when he'd tried to bargain with her for more information on AM.

In total, he'd spent three days in Hateno, gathering information (as though the book wasn't enough), gathering supplies (because as many as were in the slate, it didn't have everything a warrior would need to maintain his gear. Blue's words, not his) and getting to know the people around the area.

Also, armor. Costume fitted (Link didn't think too hard about how Blue had gotten his measurements) as to AM's specifications before they'd left town. The order arrived a little later due to his (apparently) small size causing complications with some of the straps.

Honestly, it felt good. It felt familiar with a hazy kind of comfort that spoke of his body's remembrance of such armor resting upon it often. And suddenly, in that moment, the thought that he had once been a knight didn't feel so far off, despite having no memory of it and very little desire to become as such again.

Ready to go (finally) he put on his boots, tightened the straps of his new (fitted. maybe he'd see about getting his Sheikah armor fitted as well if he was in the area) hyrulian armor set, and took one last shot before departing.

"Where can I get more bananas?" Link tried, going for casual but coming off far too intense for it to be anything but prying. "For the Yiga problem."

Blue just smiled (small and condescending, and so frustrating) before replying evenly. "AM has that well in hand I'd imagine." The knowing glint in Blue's eyes put a pout on Link's face. "It's best you focus on your mission, Courageous One." Then she smiled genuinely. Just a bit, but enough to ease Link's heart as she continued. "Fear naught for your beloved AM. No harm shall befall them while my sister haunts their shadow."

Link believed her. And with that little bit of reassurance, the Hero of Hyrule set out into the world once more. With courage in his heart and his goal ever at the forefront of his mind.

Defeat the Calamity guy. Meet AM. Travel this vast, wondrous world with them for the rest of their days. Or, maybe one day settle down more permanently in Hateno and open a food stand.

Anywhere life took them. Whatever you wanted. This was the beginning of his new life after all, and he was so eager to spend it with you.

---

You stared up at the quickly growing pile of bright yellow fruit with something like regret stabbing at your heart. Just thinking about how much rupees you were about to drop on this one purchase alone was enough to put a hitch in your throat. It was enough to have you contemplating a long walk off that equally long (absurdly long) wooden bridge just next to the stable.

When you'd stopped at Lakeside Stable for the night and told Adino you'd pay him market price for any bananas he brought back to you before you left. You hadn't expected him to take that as a challenge. You hadn't expected Skims to get involved in it as well. And you most certainly had not expected Red to show up out of nowhere with a pile rivaling (and maybe even surpassing) Adino's.

And thus, within the span of a few short hours, you were suddenly several thousand rupees poorer (not that that pantry amount even scratched the surface of your accumulated wealth, but you digress) and many, many bananas richer.

At least they tasted good.

"Not that I'm against your presence. But why are you here, Red?" You asked the red clad woman after (with a heavy heart) passing out everyone's pay for the bananas they'd brought you. (Skims and Red didn't even have the grace to look ashamed for muscling in on the quick profit either, the jerks.)

She didn't even pause from where she'd been fingering through her newly acquired (ill gotten) gains when she hummed playfully. "Oh. Gran thought it'd be wise to send along a little extra protection to ensure The Hero's benefactor remained unmolested during these most crucial of times."

The look on your face must have been confused enough to spur Red to explain. "Gran told us to keep you in the dark about our motivations, but I like you. So I'll tell you the truth, since you seem like the reasonable sort." She finally put the rupees down and turned to face you, eyes hardening into a serious shade of near black as she explained.

"The Hero is without his memory, and until recently, was without motivation to see his mission through with the urgency it requires. Had he been as he was before, just the mention of the Princess would have been enough to send the guy running, if you believe the rambling of nostalgic old gossip crows." Her lips twisted into something too complicated to decipher before it was neutral again.

"But he's not the man he used to be. He's not the princess's knight anymore for all his destiny would push him to be. And so, he needed a new motivation to get him moving." She gave you a smile, but it wasn't a nice one (it was one full of spite and pity, though only the pitying part was directed at you). "That's you. The guy loves you already. Call it situational stockholm or just that damned knightly instincts of his, but you are the apple of his eye." She tried to soften her smile into something humorous, but it fell short.

"Bottom line. You're the replacement motivation. Just until he gets enough of his memories back to get invested in the Princess' wellbeing." She flicked a rupee off the stump she'd gathered them on, expression very closed off as she continued.

"Whenever Mr. hero gets a little too comfortable playing house, we're supposed to dangle you in his face and get him interested again. That you seem invested in his success was just a bonus. Be it the Will of Hylia or just simple coincidence, doesn't matter. You're useful, and if it gets the Princess out of that Hell, we're willing to use that."

Another smile, sharp but honest. "It's our duty after all, to serve the royal family. I'm sure you understand." Despite the way the information settled sourly in your stomach you nodded, keeping your expression as even as possible.

She noticed though, and suddenly her hand was on yours (you hadn't noticed it tightening into a fist). "Don't fret, Apples." She smiled again, softer this time. Eyes lighted with a compassion that held such raw honesty despite her earlier words. "My sister and I are not going to let the elders use you like that. You might have asked yourself why Bluey isn't here instead, since, you know-" She smirked, side-eyeing Adino who'd gone some distance off to try to find more bananas (to take more of your rupees, the little bastard).

"We will fulfill our duties. For the protection of Hyrule and everything we love. But not at your's or your dear Hero's expense. At least, not like that. You see, Bluey has something I do not, and that is a gentle touch. She'll take care of the Hero in the way he needs, not the way that'll get the fastest results." Her smirk widened. "And she's got more of a rebellious streak than me too. Trust in her. She'll protect your dear Hero. Even if she has to spit in the elders' eyes to do it. She never could put her heart aside for the sake of duty."

You were silent for a time, digesting her words with the weight and attention they deserved, before looking back to her. A smile on your lips, and your hand out before her in the gesture of a shake.

"I look forward to doing business with you then, Red." You began, letting the edge of your resolve sharpen your eyes and embolden your words. "Let's do our best to protect Link and save Zelda. We'll give it everything we've got."

Red grinned, full and bright and smug (so unbearably smug, like she had won the lottery. which they didn't have here, and you were not interested in introducing any time soon either). "I knew you were gonna understand. The Goddess wouldn't choose just anyone to guard her chosen's heart."

You blinked. "What?"

Red picked up another rupee, flicking it at you. "What~?"

---

Now, off to work! And then the shadows to rest.

[greenteaandtattoos]

oh... oh the truly delicious foil between melora sending rain when orym took the blade, something that causes plants to grow, and then laudna trying to get rid of the vines by using wither and bloom against the vines (and accidentally him).

melora approving orym taking the blade and putting everyone's and the world's burdens on his shoulders, and delilah encouraging laudna to take the blade to relieve the hurt she was feeling and to protect orym (and the others).

orym, who already had a blade gifted to him but also took the one who killed his family. laudna, who already had magic but uses the magic given to her by the one who killed her family (and her).

both of them seeing their worth in what they can do for others, how much they can sacrifice for the people they love, and willing to take whatever dark measures necessary to do it, and melora and delilah enabling them.

both of them being taken advantage of for being vulnerable and hurting and taking the opportunity to give them a "purpose" or a way to achieve their personal goals, but only giving them what they need to achieve that purpose when they are desperate as a way to keep their... continued support (used very loosely).

and oh... the absolutely delectable parallel between the rain stopping when dorian told orym that he didn't need to save everyone and delilah's voice and visage disappearing when imogen held laudna and told her that she loved her.

everything about them... the plant parallels, the life/death foils, their sun and moon motifs, the shared experience of death and abuse, the shared belief that their self-worth was tied to their worth to others, both feeling saved and grounded by the one they love.

orym and laudna are profoundly alike, yet fundamentally doomed by the narrative to end up where they are right now. the potential of them being the closest of friends with an unbreakable bond and the inevitability of their differences breaking them and causing a rift between the people they care about is what truly hurts the most.

[yuseirra]

**Onk 163 spoilers**

Since that chapter is out, I guess I can talk about it more openly, right!

In short, I cannot resonate with either Aqua and Tsukuyomi. I don't feel a single ounce of pity for either of them, which is saddening because I used to care for Aqua so much when I first picked up the series. He's the first one I wrote a long character analysis for way back even before hikaai grabbed me by the collar and pulled me in, (I did a splendid job with it, I really cared about him) he was a fav. I already know he's selfless and suffering and has a good soul but I am not convinced what he's done is the right choice. Aqua's right about himself. He is a fool. Nobody wanted him to die except maybe him and Tsukuyomi (I'm being twisted but I seriously feel like her tears are crocodile tears rn because isn't SHE the one who caused him to be reborn and assigned him a mission?? Isn't she the one who kept urging him to walk that path of vengeance? And now it's suddenly about saving Ruby all along?? ? Did Kamiki want Ruby to die from the beginning? What's going on?) Tsukuyomi is the one that caused Gorou to be born as Aqua in order to fulfill something. Aqua put his life following what Tsukuyomi assigned him and now she pities and cries when he can die. Hey, then you should have just let him live his life as an 18 year old? Isn't this the outcome you wanted? Or is Kamiki really THAT evil? I have a feeling it was Tsukuyomi who found Kamiki a problem THUS, she made Aqua go after him to take him down on her stead. How else would things play out this way huh?

Back to the "nobody wanted Aqua to die" bit, yeah? Ruby wouldn't have wanted it, Ai wouldn't, Kana, Akane, all his friends and acquaintances, Miyako and the president, EVEN KAMIKI, did not want Aqua to make this choice. That's why I just can't agree with what he's done. Kamiki looked so visibly startled and shocked when he saw Aqua stab himself and try to kill him. Kamiki told him Aqua has so much to live for so he should go back and enjoy his life, Aqua didn't listen and he goes ahead and tries to kill them both, even crafting up a fake lie that would degrade his father's reputation.

Kamiki praised the movie. He funded for it, even. Aqua wanted to lie Kamiki tried to kill him over it, that's just something I can't support. It's cruel and I'n not sure if those measures were so necessary. There was that about Kamiki turning themselves in?? What was that? Was he really going to do that after Ruby's concert or was that him just manipulating Nino but HOW CAN THAT LOGICALLY LEAD NINO INTO TRYING TO ASSAULT RUBY?? I JUST?? This guy really is a god or something if he can make that possible GUYS he really must be Sarutahiko. Ai(Amenouzume)'s husband. Goodness.

Honestly, I'm so frustrated about this situation, it resolves nothing. Doing this doesn't bring about anything meaningful and if Aqua dies here, he... Brought it upon himself. I don't like it being posed as some noble sacrifice because it isn't. So what is the truth?? So what does he know?? What was his divine mission then, was he really assigned to kill his father and that's how things turned out to be this way? Did Kamiki really do all those horrible things? But he looks so, so bright and happy when he was with Ai and he says he didn't do anything. He never once admits that he's done those things. It's vague. That chapter where Aqua dunks him was all about lies and the public not caring about what the truth is. So Aqua is going to lie about his dad and frame him as a murderer when it's really HIM trying to kill him and not the other way around. But I CARE about the truth, I, as a reader who's followed the series deserve to know what's going on, at least two major character's lives are at stake and we don't have a clear idea of what's what, this isn't right, is it?? So, what is it, Aqua? You know, if you're going to take someone's life, isn't it only fair of you to base it on the truth??? I just can't support him on this one unless I see it being justified. Besides, not a single thing is changed for the better if HE dies. It has no meaningful message, no resolution, just two broken people suffering to the death with everyone around them destined to too if they do. At least, no one would mourn Kamiki besides Ai (he's so alone), I think he himself knew that, but Aqua had a lot to live for. If he decides he must still go through and make a choice as dire and dramatic as this, it needs to have a strong base but... What I saw of Kamiki, he was so kind. If you look at all the things he says and the way he treats Aqua, Aqua keeps telling him all these harsh remarks but he doesn't show so much aggression over it. He smiled at him and.. I'm not sure if that was him being manipulative?? But none of the things he say are actually wrong. He has a point, and it actually relates to what the character went through as a part of his life. Aren't those two both victims of the nature of the industry? Is Kamiki the real evil behind it all that must die? That cannot be it. I wouldn't be so confused if he weren't someone Ai's truly loved. He really loved her too. From what I see, he's someone who took the biggest toll when she passed and he threw his entire life away to feel her again because he couldn't bear Ai doesn't exist anymore, to the point he broke down and lost his originally good nature. He's someone who's suffered immensely, I just don't see him as the guy who would have hurt Ai...he can't. He just.. Looked so happy with her and she always smiled back too, Ai wouldn't choose a person that'd do that to her and say she wanted to love them forever, won't they.

Aqua won't die guys. I'm not concerned about his life AT ALL. Him and Ruby are like a set, what would Ruby do without him if he dies like that? I just don't see that happening. He will be fine and we'll see him reunited with his precious beings. Because, it's.. Very dumb and underwhelming if it isn't. If they still go through with it, okay...I guess. I should be thankful of how the piece is saving me of the sorrow I'd have felt, right now.. I'm confused and even a bit angry towards Aqua for having been so reckless;; I'd feel sorry for everyone around him, and I'd slap Aqua's back. Tsukuyomi, I really don't know what to feel about her. What's her deal? Why is she here and what's she in this for? If she's the god of fate, she's so helpless, I do have an idea why she exists and what she's in this for actually, but, her crying won't help anything. She should stop being so ambiguous and do something if she's a god and the one that's brought the two souls to live again as Ai's twins, none of this would have happened without her intervention, I'm pretty sure what's currently happening to Aqua is an aftermath of what she assigned him to do.

What I feel is at stake, really, is not Aqua's life but the message of this piece. There is no way that can be saved if the rest of the pacing is this slow. That's what I want to be saved somehow though, three chapters left, if they are not going to to a good job with Hikaru and Ai and write them in a convincing way in depth, I just hope they focus on/do a spledid job with the twins. Just don't ruin them anymore.. I never wish I had to feel or say that. They built these perfectly good characters, why aren't they bringing out what they can be when they have? I'd be so proud of them, wouldn't they be too?

The songs though...omygod the songs though?? Guess that'll explain things miles better than the manga itself at this rate, I'm glad they exist, at the same time I wonder why they'd make it like that if they're not going to discuss just what the those intriguing lyrics there are supposed to mean

If the message is saved, then this work will remain so meaningful to me! There are too little chapters left...it'll be hard to have my hopes high though. What I can hope for, then, is to wish the work be less messy any further. If they aren't going to tell us what's actually going on and drag on like this when there's a mere 3 chapter left, there really isn't so much to look forward to.. This is my selfish wish but what I want now is for them to not make Ai's love look fruitless. I'm too distracted about that to feel anything about Aqua rn, so what was her wish?? Why did Aqua give up on that? And why is being a liar suddenly a negative thing, when the work started on a sentiment that lies are love? I really liked that idea. I thought it brought about a good insight of the nature of the industry. The "lie" here in some cases, can be interpreted as being considerate for the other party actually, it doesn't actually actively conflict with loving someone, you can lie for someone out of love, that's what Ai's done... It didn't have the best effect, but her feelings were there. I feel Kamiki may be similar, he could also be that guy who lies out of love and pretends he's the bad guy? Anyhow with Tsukuyomi branding them both as liars, I wonder what they want to do with this concept of "lies" as well. Are they going to make it seem like it's bad, at this point of the series? That also isn't a good message from the way I see it. I really love that liar couple, I literally drew 400+ pieces of them since July!! ;-;)99 so let me rant about that a little.

That's all for now! Don't know what to expect but I hope things don't go for the worse!

[randomfoggytiger]

I don’t want to believe… You would think that Mulder would not blatantly give up searching for HIS SON, William, after he found out Scully had put him up for adoption. First reason why this doesn’t make sense: He spent 27 years searching for his sister. She was abducted by a shadow government group with lots of power to manipulate him and Scully, but that didn’t deter him from searching. So why stop with William? Second reason: Seeing Scully tormented by her decision—which in many fanfics caused their relationship to end—would have motivated Mulder to take action because he is very protective of her. Third reason: Although the LGM are gone (another bullshit concoction of CC to kill off beloved characters for no reason), it’s hard to fathom that Mulder doesn’t have other friends or allies who could hack into the adoption system to track down his son. I would love to get your thoughts on this. For me, the series ended in season 8, but they made season 9, IWTB, and the revival seasons so I have to ask… I love reading the different perspectives of how it all went by the many talented fanfic writers, but I haven’t read any that takes these points into consideration. Please point me to them if you know of any!

THANKS! =)

I think what CC was going for was a two-fold decision:

Scully lost faith in herself, and gave up William

Mulder lost faith in himself, came back to dead friends and his son gone, and resigned himself to execution

This doesn't work for a couple of reasons:

Mulder wouldn't have left in the first place, even if Scully had begged him (see Redux II, there are some things his conscience won't allow)

Scully wouldn't have given up her son through a private adoption, given Emily's history with adoption and the Consortium

Now, would Mulder have stopped the adoption? TLG were alive when it happened, right? But he wasn't told about William's placement until after their deaths and his imprisonment-- meaning, the only time we see him react-ish to his son's adoption was after he'd lost sight of himself and was sitting sadly waiting for execution (I think?)

On the one hand, TLG and Danny from the FBI were shown to be his only "get 'er done" contacts; and Danny wouldn't be an option after Mulder and Scully took to the road. However, that never stopped Mulder if he wanted to get information: he's more likely to break and enter than let the matter rest (his entire mission during Season 9, for example.)

My guess would be: he didn't retrieve William because he knew there was no life for his son on the run. How would he go to school? How would he get his necessary medical appointments? How would he make friends and live the life he needed? It would be different if they went on the run together, of course; but that didn't happen.

However, the above logical explanation doesn't take into account the fact that Mulder and Scully know their son's privacy would be invaded even if the adoption were closed. Just as I think Scully would have decided against a closed adoption-- she would've, at least, had TLG find her suitable parents on the down-low-- and just as I think Mulder wouldn't have left to begin with, so, too, do I think both would have heard information while on the run that made them double back to protect William's safety. Or Mulder would have anticipated it and told Scully, and both would have hoped their son would be okay. In that case, that anxiety would need to be addressed in IWTB and the Revival, i.e. Mulder finding a contact to trace the closed adoption and constantly checking up on his son (via computer) from the Unremarkable House. And Scully would have sanctioned these measures and been just as overprotective.

But guess what? IWTB throws a wrench in that plan: Mulder basically acknowledges the FBI knows where his hiding spot is (roughly) and decided to leave him alone for... five years? Why, then, didn't he try to get back his son? If he and Scully were on the road one year and in housing the rest... why not at least look into his son's adoption? Did he? If so, the writers neglected to mention that.

Here comes the sticky problem: I can see Mulder, unable to challenge the adoption (wanted fugitive, hello), having to resign himself to the hope that his son was happy after a few years. We see him let 'Samantha' go in Redux II-- back to the Cancer man, even-- because she chose to. He will let people do what they think is best, but he won't forget. And after 2012 passes, there's no way he stays away from his son (especially after the Revival practically states his depression wasn't linked to 2012.)

Realistically? William would have been snagged years before the Revival. And even though Scully thought she'd cured him with magic rocks (getouttahere), both she and Mulder know William is a liability (in S9) to all factions: one of them would have found and exterminated him, easily, just to tie up loose ends. Mulder and Scully would have to be profoundly stupid people to believe otherwise. Moreover, I don't think Mulder would be as trusting to William's safety after Skinner told him his son had been adopted: I think it would have made him paranoid, and snapped him out of his funk-- because even when down in the depths of the dumps, Mulder will set aside his issues to protect someone else. And William, per this information, needed to be protected. And let's say he pushes the issue: Scully either pushes back, and he respects her decision; or Scully gives in, persuaded by his arguments. Both are left up to the skill of the script; but logically his arguments would be pretty sound.

I'm sure I could come up with ten ways to Sunday how the adoption could have fallen out, so consider this one possibility. ;))))

[sokkastyles]

Just saw the craziest take. Zuko's redemption arc will be incomplete til he helps his sister heal and he let's go of the sibling rivalry Ozai created. What? Am I missing something? He needs to help his abuser heal?

It's not just the idea that he needs to help his abuser heal that is bad. This idea fails on its very premise. Not to mention that Zuko learning that he did not have to play nice with abusive people or listen to them was a big part of his redemption arc. Which includes Azula because there was that whole thing where he almost joined the gaang in Ba Sing Se until Azula convinced him to join with her, and the climax of his arc was rejecting and atoning for that choice and then defeating Azula in battle in combination with Katara, in a perfect reversal of his choosing Azula over Katara at the end of book 2. Saying NO to Azula was a large part of Zuko's redemption arc.

But the main reason why this take is wrong is that Zuko ALREADY let go of the "sibling rivalry." Which wasn't a sibling rivalry to begin with, because Zuko was never a rival to Azula, he was her Ozai-approved punching bag. Him standing up to her and defeating her was rejecting what Ozai created, which was not a sibling rivalry but a golden child/scapegoat dynamic where Zuko was the scapegoat. Zuko refusing to BE the scapegoat any longer IS letting it go.

Zuko let it go when he told Ozai that Azula lied to him about the Avatar's death. He let it go when he told Ozai that he didn't care about his approval anymore, and therefore has no reason to seek it either from Azula or by fighting her. He doesn't fear being Ozai's scapegoat anymore and he's not cowed by Azula's threats. He chooses to walk away.

And like, I know I keep saying this but I can't stress it enough. What Zuko does in walking away is the thing that abusers fear the most. Believing that you are responsible for "healing" an abusive person is what a lot of abusive people want, because it's another way for them to control the relationship and the narrative. Walking away from an abusive relationship is always a valid choice, and sometimes it's a necessary choice. And sometimes that's what letting go looks like.

And that's sad, but it was never Zuko who couldn't let it go. It's also not Zuko who continues to hold on to it, who challenges his sibling to an agni kai and says it was "always meant to be" even after the other person has chosen to walk away. Zuko left, remember? Azula was the one who came after him in "The Southern Raiders" with the intent to kill him because she couldn't let him walk away and live. Azula is the one who won't back down from a fight and says it was "the showdown that was always meant to be." Zuko came back to face her because he wanted to save the world. Azula is the one who holds onto a personal grudge. Azula is the one who cheats when she realizes she can't win. Azula is the one who almost kills her brother and laughs while he is dying. (Do NOT talk to me about Zuko's expression while she is tied to a grate when Azula had THAT expression after she had struck her brother with lightning.)

Azula is the one who, in the comics, continues to hold onto her hatred, continues to justify Ozai's abusiveness, and rejects Zuko's attempts to reach out to her every single time. Azula is the one who used Zuko's offer of dignity to weasel herself into a position where she could keep their mother's letter from him and force Zuko to take her along and put them all in danger. If anything, I'd say that Zuko's mistake in that comic was believing that she would be helpful to him in the first place and that she wouldn't try to take advantage of him. But the fact that he does continue to try to be kind to her shows how much he has risen above what his family tried to do to him. But he also has every right to be angry at her and distance himself from her completely. Just because he's still hurting doesn't mean he hasn't healed. And Zuko's abusers aren't the ones who get to be the measure of whether he has healed. Especially when they keep trying to hurt him.

I find it interesting that Azula is the one who keeps holding onto the idea that she is Ozai's golden child, and yet I've never, ever, ever seen it suggested that Azula should let it go, even when Zuko has risen above it and Ozai has rejected her. Even while Azula's reluctance to let go of this destructive mindset continues to hurt her as well as those around her. That's what Azula's mother tried to tell her in the mirror at the end of ATLA, that's what Zuko tried to tell her at the end of the "Search," and why she wept when he did. It's also why Ursa offered Azula an apology even when she didn't remember her, because she could see that Azula was holding onto this thing so tenaciously. Azula's mind has been telling her this whole time that she needs to let it go, but she can't. And that's a tragedy, but it's not one that Zuko is responsible for or had any hand in making.

[twig-tea]

Oppan ep 6: we're 0 for 6 and I am so grateful to this show

6 out of the 6 episodes available subtitled to date (of 11 total) have made me cry (and I am not actually a regular crier); congratulations show! Once again huge thanks to @isaksbestpillow for making it possible for me (and everyone else) to watch. If you haven't started watching this show yet, she's taking a short break before continuing the back half of the show, so it's a good time to catch up!

So much happened in this episode that I connected with. This episode started with the fallout of Makoto's huge mis-step at the barbecue. This was a necessary setback, and I appreciated that everyone gave it the correct amount of weight while also understanding that Makoto really did mean well and didn't know what he was doing. Carlos dragging Makoto out to see Daichi and Madoka made me so happy (he is such a good dog and I love him as a structural artifact--he's almost a non-verbal narrator, it's fantastic) . The conversation with these three was so painful; Makoto begging them not to give up on him really did ache. He's understanding how much people have put up with and how much hurt he's caused, and how much people haven't said anything to him because they didn't think it would make a difference.

I love, love, love the way Daichi and Madoka explain that they are more just worn down by their situation overall than mad at him in particular. The explanation for how coming out has been so different for Daichi and Madoka is so critically important to me; there are different lived queer experiences even within the same kind of queerness within the same culture, and seeing that represented here is amazing. Being bullied for being queer before you realize you are was my experience, but there is another kind of pain in "passing" and maybe finding your way to your own truth later in life, or being heaped with heteronormative expectations because it doesn't occur to anybody to think differently.

So often, coming out is treated in dramas as a decision that gets made once, but this show is doing a great job showing how we actually end up doing this over and over (Daichi coming out to Makoto in ep1; Daichi's coming out to his friends and Madoka coming out to him in ep5; and Madoka struggling with being outed to Makoto's family and coming out to his own in ep6). And the way the closet is wearing on Madoka is so heartrending. He has legitimate reasons to be worried about coming out to his family. He clearly cares about Daichi so much, and hates that his situation is forcing Daichi effectively back into the closet too. I feel so much for this character.

Episode 6 also did something I mentioned I desperately wanted in my ep3 post: Mika, the mom, finally got sick of being so unappreciated for everything she does for everyone in this family and had a (very measured) blow-up. The best part about this was that as soon as she pointed it out, her family started to realize all of the ways they had been failing to appreciate her. It was such a good wake-up moment for not just Makoto, but for Moe and Kakeru as well.

My favourite part of this was Makoto reframing the story he'd told in episode 1 about the Tanuki statue in front of their house and how he held a superstition around the statue keeping his kids healthy (and how the statue was used as a symbol of his care for his family). But in this episode he realized that actually what saved Moe as a kid was his wife Mika giving up her opportunity to join the workforce in order to stay at home and care for their sick daughter. He was not actually the hero of this story at all, she was. What an incredible reframing and payoff.

Tears watch: A few tears dropped during the Daichi backstory and just seeing Madoka's frustration with himself and his fear; but I cried so hard when Makoto bought Mika those tickets. This was such a perfect thing for him to do because he's been so dismissive and even resentful of her Kpop interests before. But he's clearly internalized the lesson he learned from Moe and her friends: that even if he doesn't understand the value in it, if the hobby gives her joy, it's worthwhile for that reason. And asking his kids for help was also a good growth moment, I think he's starting to internalize that being a patriarch is actually counterproductive to a loving and reciprocal relationship with his family. Kakeru was so proud to have been the one to snag those tickets (and it makes sense the youngest of them would have made those evil KPop ticket websites work). Anyway this was such a good culmination of his work to date and thinking about it is making me teary again so I'll stop here for now.

[adelemadouce]

Anne

He did it only once. He was cautious, controlled, almost fearful. It was a form of taking possession for which he felt privileged. He had to do it, since he had been denied the original way to 'own me as the first man', therefore he had to be the first man who took my 'other' virginity. It hurt a little, but I'm not a squeamish person and didn't let it show. The Emperor was extremely tender after this act of love that we both longed for. He said that he had known this kind of lovemaking in Egypt, in a Harem, with a beautiful Circassian woman. He said, it gave him the idea of an even deeper intimacy with a woman, but he had never dared to ask for it, which is why he had never done it with Joséphine. I was the first and only one since Egypt. I wondered if he knew what I had seen at the Hôtel Roquelaure when Mereen had 'loved'him like that? Did he know what I knew...? And the desire arose in me again to make him happy in this way! I wanted to give him this inexpressible, all-surpassing measure of bliss! I alone wanted to be this incomparable woman for him. That, and only that was my ambition! "Now you are my wife," he said. I thought he was joking and wanted to tease him about it, but his face was serious. Then he asked me to reach into the pocket of his coat. I found a small box and gave it to him. He opened it, took out a ring and put it on my finger. The ring was made of gold, with tiny diamonds. There was something engraved: "...U vostru per sempre...". I read it out loud. The Emperor explained to me what it meant. "...Forever Yours." I slid the ring onto my finger, then my arms around his neck. I really wasn't sure how serious he was about it and so I told myself: it's a friendship ring, nothing more. The fear of being disappointed was greater than the hope of believing in it. "A beautiful gift, thank you so much, Sire! I will wear the ring with pride!" He looked at me doubtfully. "You thank me so formally? Don't you believe my feelings for you?" I looked at the ring on my finger. "Adèle...I have to thank you for these incomparable moments that you give me! I don't understand why this makes you doubt my feelings? You are my sweet Adèle...forever!" What stabbed me in the heart at that moment was my conviction that he himself did not believe what he was saying. Napoléon could not be faithful! He knew it, I knew it, the whole world knew it! Nevertheless, I smiled and kissed his lips in apparent agreement. He lay on his back next to me, leaning on his elbows, looking down at his hot naked body. His member stuck up in the air, hard as a pipe. "Now be a good wife, Adèle...and take care of it!"

From then on I wore the ring constantly. Duchâtel noticed it, because I wasn't wearing my wedding ring. "Are you wearing a new ring, Madame?" he asked mockingly. And it was precisely this tone of voice that prompted me to respond to his curiosity: "Yes, I am. And it's none of your business!" Of course he suspected a lover, but he could hardly feel jealous about it. After all we were living in a marriage that wasn't one! I proudly showed Camille the beautiful piece of jewelry on my finger. "...the Godemiché wasn't necessary...the Emperor was so tender...it worked without it! I brought the Emperor into the sweetest ecstasy...ha..ha!" Yes, I was proud of myself! I wore the ring at court too. When I sat in my antechamber and did embroidery, the diamonds glittered in the winter sun that shone through the windows. The Empress greeted me again, I was very happy about it. Joséphine admired my embroidery, it was the trim for a Levantine stand-up collar. "Permit me to give you the collar when it is finished, Madame?" She looked at the lace enthusiastically. "That is kind of you, Adèle!" I saw the other ladies-in-waiting smile too. Apparently I was doing quite well in my anteroom exile. Églée, Félicité and the others, however, regretted my absence from the Empress's salon and at Cercle. It was boring without me, they said. Églée thought she had observed that the Emperor showed a certain disappointment every evening when he did not see a certain face in the Empress's salon. "He misses watching you, Adèle! Please do everything you can so that you can attend the evenings in the Empress's salon again soon! There is nothing more exciting than seeing the Emperor flirting..." Églée said, giggling mischievously.

But I didn't want to give up my new position as Dame d'annonce! It was really exciting when the double doors opened and elegantly dressed ladies came in. I greeted the guests, took their invitations, offered them a seat and informed Lily Longrois of their arrival. Lily announced the guests to Madame d'Arberg and she eventually reported the visit to the Empress. We ladies felt a little like a Semaphore, an optical telegraph. On one of these mornings two ladies entered my antichambre. The older of the two had white powdered hair and an old-fashioned broad-brimmed hat, decorated on one side with a brooch and white ostrich feathers, just like in the days of the Ancien Régime. The young woman, she was my age, was dressed in modern clothes, in a darkblue-beige striped velvet robe, with a darkblue canezou, a darkblue muff and a large beige bonnet. Her clothes looked a bit shabby. She had white-blonde hair, was slenderly built, but with ample breasts. She was very pretty! "Madame Blanche de Montbazon, together with her niece Mademoiselle Anne Roche de La Coste," was written on her invitation card. I gave Lily the card, then invited the ladies to sit down. "The weather is too awful," said Madame de Montbazon. "... the cold humidity spoils any curl, doesn't it." The older lady looked around. "Mon Dieu...how everything has changed here. The Tuileries are unrecognizable! You must know...I was already a welcome guest of the Queen here before you were born, Madame!" It sounded a little sharp, not to say arrogant. Madame de Montbazon matched the Empress's powder puffs wonderfully! The young woman said nothing. She admired the golden interior she was in. Her light green eyes sparkled, her delicate pink complexion glowed, she seemed to feel like she was in a fairy tale. Then the double doors opened and Lily asked the two ladies to come to the Empress. But it wasn't long before Lily appeared again and this time asked me to come to the Empress. I put my embroidery aside, fixed my hair (I wore a pink silk camellia blossom that morning), smoothed my velvet grey dress and walked lightly past Lily into the small salon. Joséphine's pugs came straight away with their little curly tails. I stroked them quickly, went to the Empress's armchair and sank into a graceful court curtsy. Joséphine said with the utmost politeness: "Madame Duchâtel,...you have already met Mademoiselle de La Coste. Well, my dear Adèle, I have chosen Mademoiselle de La Coste as my lectrice. It would be an advantage for the young lady if you, dear Adèle, would take care of her and explain her duties to her. Would it be possible, dear Adèle!"

I rose from my curtsy, but was too surprised to answer immediately, because, first of all, I didn't know the duties of a lectrice. She had to read aloud, and what else? And secondly, why did the Empress need a lectrice? Apart from the fact that she had no interest in books, she also couldn't pay attention when books were read to her! I finally smiled. "Your Majesty, it would be a great pleasure for me to assist Mademoiselle de La Coste in her task!" Joséphine nodded. "That's good. You should show the young lady the bookcases right away. Our good Abbé Halna is indisposed. Madame d'Arberg will give you the keys." With a graceful gesture, the Empress pointed to the lady-in-waiting, indicating that we should immediately follow Madame d'Arberg. Anne and I curtsied to the Empress and followed Madame. In the small office of the librarian Abbé Halna, there was a part of Joséphine's library. Actually only geographical books, the court almanac, history of the European royal houses, ancient Rome and Greece. Madame d'Arberg opened the bookcase and gave me the key. "You must first listen to Mademoiselle. If she cannot read fluently you must practice with her, Adèle. Also the pronunciation of foreign words. Can you do that, Adèle?" My eyes wandered over the spines of these consistently boring works. "But yes, Madame!" She put a book from the shelf, it was Vergil's "Aeneas".

"It could well be," Madame d'Arberg then said,"...that the Empress wants a book from the Emperor's library. Then you two will be tasked with fetching it from Monsieur Ripault, the Emperor's librarian." Anne, who was standing next to me, gasped audibly. "Will I see the Emperor?" But the lady-in-waiting looked at Anne in shock. "Of course not!" Then she gave the book to Anne. "Take it! Read it! Practice it! Your remuneration will be agreed upon with your aunt! You are now Her Majesty's lectrice, prove yourself worthy of this task, Mademoiselle de La Coste!" Intimidated by this warning demand, Anne curtsied and whispered: "Yes, Madame!" The lady-in-waiting turned to me, smiling and amiable, as I knew her to be. "The Empress is very fond of you again, Adèle!" She gave me a little kiss on the cheek. Of all the ladies-in-waiting, Madame d'Arberg is one of the sweetest and most distinguished!

Now I had also become a kind of governess! When Anne came to see me the next morning in my apartment in the palace, we talked over petit déjeuner. She lived with her aunt Blanche in a small apartment on the Grande Rue Verte. Anne was an orphan. Her father, an aristocrat, had died in the revolution, her mother had died in childbirth shortly afterwards, and her child, Anne's brother, had not survived either. She was now nineteen years old, having come to Paris at the age of fourteen. She had no formal education and had learned to read and write from her aunt. That meant that she could do practically nothing! So I had to find out what her talents were, what skills she had. Anne was a very beautiful girl. She was taller than me, had a slim, supple body and large, firm, round breasts (which I was jealous of!). She loved to laugh and had beautiful teeth. However, I asked Camille to immediately explain and demonstrate to her the importance of daily teeth cleaning and how it should be performed. After this first hygiene lesson, she opened her chignon and showed me her long, silky, white-blonde hair. It was magnificent! "Aunt Blanche says that the Empress will definitely find a husband for me. Is that true?" she asked me. "The Empress knows a lot of influential people, it could well be that she will arrange a good match for you! Someday, when you become a lady at court...but until then, Anne..." I sighed and smiled at her, "...until then a lot of water will flow down the Seine! And we need to polish you up a bit first, dear Anne!" She seemed happy about it. "It's so nice to be with a woman my age. Can I call you 'Adèle'?" I nodded, but immediately added a lesson. "You can! But only when we're alone. Otherwise I'm Madame Duchâtel for you!"

She was like a calf, without any grace, but with a natural charm that was downright disarming. I took Anne into my heart, I liked her from the beginning. Camille also found her charming. "The young lady needs our help," she said quietly to me. I was ready to take this little aristocrat under my wing, but I had to be careful that Anne did not find out what a "special" position I enjoyed at the imperial court. I told her not to arrive at my apartment in the Tuileries before ten o'clock in the morning. "Not a minute earlier!" My morning rendezvous with the Emperor had to be protected! I was extremely sensitive about this and did not want to take the slightest risk! We agreed that before starting court service we would first examine Anne's wardrobe and her hairstyle. She had hardly any money and didn't own much. A new wardrobe was out of reach for Anne at the moment. So I thought about giving her some of my clothes, although Camille had to open the seams at the hem and bust to adjust the dresses to Anne's figure. She looked pretty in my clothes. I showed her how to move in them, how to do the court curtsy, how to wear the little train. Anne was and remained the clumsy little calf; she would never be a graceful lady, but she beamed and seemed happy about her change. That made up for everything! We also practiced reading diligently. She had a talent for it, and articulated everything she read clearly and understandably. However, we moved on from Vergil to the fables of LaFontaine, a reading genre that I knew the Empress also liked. While I was training my little élève, the Emperor made sure that our love life was not neglected. He was very busy with his government work, but he always found time and ways to see me. And he wanted me every day! We often did it in my apartment in the palace, not only in the mornings, but also in the afternoons when the opportunity arose. When he had more time he wanted to meet me at the Allée des Veuves, where we could "do it loudly" as he said. Once the Emperor sent Duchâtel to inspect the bookkeeping of a garrison somewhere for two days. Duchâtel had not yet completely disappeared our home through the front door when the black fiacre drove onto the gravel path and the Emperor appeared incognito in our house. Napoléon took two steps at a time as he came up the stairs to my rooms. He wanted me in my sweet-smelling bed! It was one of the hottest nights of love I've ever had with him... When Roustam came early the next morning to pick up the Emperor, I didn't want to let him go. "Stay with me, darling! Please, don't go!" I held him in my arms. "How I would like to stay, Adèle...but you know that I do not belong to myself!" He kissed me. Then he added quietly: "...I would prefer never to leave your sweet bed again,...but I have to, ma petite...I have to!" I let him go. Although I knew that I would see him again in a short time, the world ended for me at that moment. I cried. Camille later said, not very comfortingly: "You can cry, Madame...now and then it's good for us women to cry!" But my misfortune did not end there; after breakfast my bleedeng started! I cried even more and had Camille put the coral jewelry on me, thereby making clear to the Emperor what condition I was in. It meant I couldn't be intimate with him, but it also meant I wasn't pregnant! And that weighed more heavily on my heart than anything else.

The next morning, Madame d'Arberg came to me in my antechambre with a small list. Anne was wearing one of my reseda green dresses, my maid had done her hair beautifully and put some rouge on her lips. I was wearing sky-blue velvet, with white lace on the neckline and red corals on my neck and earlobes. Madame d'Arberg gave me the list. "The Empress wants you to ask the Emperor for these books! Please contact the Emperor's chamberlain, Monsieur de Thiard, he is informed! It will take a while, Monsieur de Thiard will pass the order on to Monsieur Ripault, the Emperor's librarian. Monsieur Ripault is of advanced age and of frail constitution, it will take him some time to find the books. So it would be better if you wear a coat and hat, the hallways of the Tuileries are cold...and the wait could be long!" Anne and I put on our coats. I wore no bonnet, but the fur-trimmed hood of my coat. I took Anne's hand and pulled her behind me through the high, cold hallways of the palace. "I would get helplessly lost here," Anne said, admiring the high ceilings. "If you don't know your way around here, that can actually happen." I said, but completely different thoughts were going through my head. Our mission seemed strange to me. When Joséphine wanted something from the Emperor, she went to him herself, through the secret staircase of the dark corridor that led from her boudoir to his salon. Why did she send Anne and me to him now? When we reached the first floor with the Emperor's chambers over the large marble staircase, we encountered the dragoons of the imperial guard. There were groups of officers, ministers, and clerks. Several domestics looked after those waiting. I smiled at the gentlemen, bowed my head, greeted them quietly and enjoyed the male admiration. Anne seemed rather intimidated by this attention. "So many men!" she whispered to me. I was convinced that she was still a virgin. The many dashing officers in their tight riding trousers must be confusing Anne! Finally I turned to a servant and asked for Monsieur de Thiard. The young man led us to one of the many doors, knocked, entered and immediately came back again. "His Majesty's chamberlain requests your presence, Madame!"

Auxonne Théodore de Thiard - the 'handsome Théo'. I had seen him a few times, but we had not introduced to each other. A tall, slim, blond man in a silver-white livery came towards us. He had beautiful blond curls and sparkling blue eyes. An Adonis! I offered him my gloved hand, which he took and bowed slightly. "Madame Duchâtel, I am delighted to be of assistance to the Empress!" Then his gaze fell on Anne, who was making a far too deep court curtsy to him. I suddenly noticed a change in his expression; his gaze became very soft, his beautiful mouth began to smile. "Mademoiselle Anne Roche de La Coste, Her Majesty's lectrice," I introduced my companion. Anne stood up, looked at him and held out her hand, which he gallantly kissed! They both looked at each other in silence for I don't know how many moments, because I was sure that they fell in love at first sight. I had never seen anything like that before, it was magical! But then I was distracted by what was happening between the two of them, my gaze fell through an open double door, I saw Monsieur Méneval, the Emperor's secretary. And shortly after I heard his voice. "His" voice! My heart leapt! I lowered my eyes. I had not expected to meet him.

The Emperor came out of his study, which was further back and was easily visible because all the doors were open. I gave Monsieur de Thiard the list of books. He took a look at it, then the Emperor appeared in the doorway. "Well, a ladies visit in the morning...that's quite unusual!" Anne and I immediately curtsied. A very deep one! "Your Majesty!" I murmured. The chamberlain also bowed. The Emperor asked Monsieur de Thiard: "...what is it about?" The chamberlain bowed again. "Sire, the Empress requests the loan of some of Your books." Monsieur de Thiard handed the Emperor the list, but he ignored the paper, however, and instead asked me: "And who is this young person?" I stood up. "Sire, this is Mademoiselle Anne Roche de La Coste, Her Majesty's new lectrice." The Emperor glanced briefly at Anne, who was trembling slightly in her curtsy. "Ah yes, I heard about it," said Napoléon. "Monsieur de Thiard...take care of it!...Madame Duchâtel, you come with me! I have found the book you were looking for...about the childhood diseases...you know! Come...come!" He waved me behind him, I exchanged a helpless look with Anne, then followed the Emperor. I followed him through several corridors, past doormen...into the Cabinett Arrière, which I knew very well. But I had always entered through the secret door, never through the corridor. As the door closed behind us, he took me in his arms. "What is the Empress up to...what does this mean?" Before I could answer, he kissed me. He had eaten licorice, I tasted sweet anise. "Sire, she wants some of your books...that's all!" He held me in his arms, shaking his head a little as he said: "No, there's something else behind it! You just don't know her! With this book request she wants to keep me away from her salon for a few hours...I bet! The good Monsieur Ripault needs hours to find titles, he can't do it without my help, and the Empress knows that!" His look became bold. "Adèle, tell me who the Empress is receiving...is it that Tallien woman?" Oh, of course, how could I, how could Joséphine have assumed that the Emperor would not find out! I was left standing there, feeling stupid because she hadn't told me anything. I didn't know who Joséphine was secretly receiving this morning! So I quickly said: "No, not Madame Tallien. It's the...fortune teller!" The Emperor paused, then laughed. "That stupid LeNormand!...I should go downstairs, kick the doors and throw out that old chimera myself!"

I placed my hands on his chest and tried to calm him down with a sweet voice. "But what's the harm, Sire? A little bit of card-reading, a little bit of dreaming and hoping for the future...it makes the Empress happy...please let her do it!" He looked at my mouth, grabbed my chin as he always did. "Oh you sweet thing, you're still protecting her!" Then he kissed me passionately like he always did! Finally he gave me the book I had asked him for. A German doctor had written it, in French! It covered all known infant and child diseases. "Thank you so much, Sire! That's wonderful!" I started to leaf through it while he caressed my neck, kissing me, he said softly: "Now the Empress has a lectrice...and what about me? When will I get my lectrice? A cute little lectrice...I know who would be suitable!" I had to laugh and gave myself over completely to his tender attack. We kissed for half an hour, my face was wet and red when he left me, humming falsely, as always: "...oui, c'est 'n fait...je me marie..."

Anne looked at me questioningly when I returned to her. "Did you fall, Madame?" I tried to remove the traces of Napoléon's kiss attack. "No, I'm fine. Monsieur de Thiard will bring us the books...yes?" The chamberlain's name brought Anne's smile back. "...yes! Monsieur de Thiard!" she said enthusiastically.

[abigailmoment]

The above picture is an effective content warning for the below story.

Staeve and Jaessica belong to @velnna

-

----1627 DR----

Astarion was in the upstairs study, going through correspondence.

There was the usual flurry of frantically phrased quest petitions, most of them entirely uninteresting. There was an invitation to speak at the Ravenguard memorial. There was a letter written on birch bark, detailing a study finding that wild Deep Rothe populations were returning to sustainable levels in the Underdark for the first time since seven thousand starving vampires arrived there. Wasn't that nice. He knew a couple of druids and rangers who would be happy about that.

Someone knocked at the study door. He looked up.

The person in the doorway looked like a child, but was not. She was, in fact, considerably more tolerable than most people who looked like adults. She wore a loose green dress. She had mousy brown hair and gleaming red eyes.

"He's waking up," she said.

"Thank you Jaessica," said Astarion.

Astarion stood and went downstairs. Jaessica followed him to the kitchen. She watched him ignite the stove using the only cantrip he knew, get a pot from the rack on the wall, and fetch out some onions.

Jaessica perched herself on a stool and stayed for some of the process. There was a sort of alien interest to it. A sequence of events that was so entirely disconnected from either of them, but still made relevant by circumstance.

"I'm going to the Eastway docks today," she said, after a while.

"That's nice," said Astarion distractedly. He was cutting onions and muscle memory kept telling him he should be stabbing them.

"I'm going to play 'Dead Kidnapper'," she added. This was a popular game with her, whose goal was to manifest the title into existence.

"That's nice," Astarion said again, then engaging slightly more: "Who is going with you?"

Because one of the very few rules in the house that was actually a rule and not just a vague guideline was that rogues did not go adventuring alone.

"Aldric," Jaessica said.

Astarion made a disgusted noise. If she had said Dalyria or Hannah or someone pleasant, Astarion would've suggested that Jaessica bring them back afterwards for dinner. But Aldric was insufferable.

He didn't actually say as much, because Jaessica was in a phase where she interpreted disapproval as encouragement. She had been in this phase for two decades now. Astarion was extremely ready for the next phase.

"Do you have enough knives?" he asked instead.

"I have a knife," she said, evasively.

"You should have more than one," he told her as he finished with the onion.

"If I'm covered in knives I'll look like an adventurer and no one's going to try to kidnap me," Jaessica said, a note of exasperation in her voice. "If I lose the knife I'll just use my teeth."

Astarion made another disgusted noise. "You really want to put your mouth all over strange dockworkers?"

"Wow," said Jaessica. "Those are words that you just said."

She jumped down off the stool.

"I'm going now," she said, disappearing out the side door into the front hall.

"There are daggers in the shoe rack," Astarion called after her. But not with much force. The knife thing wasn't a rule like the rogue thing was. And she was over a century old. She could make her own decisions.

Astarion put the onions and other necessary things into the pot. He had a container of spices that had been mixed by someone who had any idea how they tasted. He measured out a spoonful of it and sprinkled it over.

The shape of that action made him think suddenly and very intensely of Gale. And then, as the pot began to simmer, he needed to take a moment to compose himself.

He kept having to do that. That wasn't like him. How strange. How time changed things. When it was actually permitted to move forward.

He fetched out some strips of willow bark and shaved a generous portion of them into the developing soup. That reminded him of Halsin, which was considerably safer. Thank everything for Halsin.

Astarion measured whether the soup was done by the structural integrity of the onions. Then he ladled it into a mug. Bowls and spoons had recently followed lockpicks into retirement.

Astarion took the mug into the bedroom across the hall. The room was small, because that was convenient. There was a table and a window--curtained, shuttered and locked as all windows were in the house. There was a bed, and there was a half-elf in the bed. He had been drowsing, but woke entirely as soon as Astarion entered.

"Hey, it's Magistrate Ancunin," the half-elf said, which was a little less of a joke than it used to be. "What's a fancy guy like you doing in a place like this?"

"Slumming," said Astarion.

Astarion walked over and put his hand on the side of Staeve's face. Staeve turned into his palm. As if Astarion were warm. As if he were made of sunlight--something a person would instinctively turn towards.

"Where would you like to go today?" Astarion asked.

"Amn," Staeve said.

"Try again," Astarion said. Correct answers included nearby parks and entertainment buildings that were open at night.

"Sharess' Caress," said Staeve.

"Let's start with the window," Astarion said dryly. "And see where that leads."

Astarion helped Staeve to the table by the window. Staeve didn't lean on him quite as heavily as he had yesterday, but he seemed very stiff and when he sat Astarion pushed the mug of soup and willow bark into his hands. As Staeve drank, Astarion drew back the curtains, unlocked and unbolted the shutters, and opened them.

Staeve had been having fun lately with running jokes about how everyone in the house had a liquid diet now-a-nights. But he didn't continue on that theme right now. He drank his soup and looked out the window at the street outside. It was brightly lit by streetlamps and the moon.

"Remember when we saved the city?" Staeve said.

"I do, in fact," Astarion said.

"Wild shit," Staeve said.

"Yes," Astarion agreed.

Staeve took another drink of soup, then asked: "Where's Jaessica?"

"Murdering villains near Heapside," said Astarion.

"Aw," said Staeve. "What a sweet kid."

When Staeve was done with his soup, Astarion combed and braided his hair. Shadowheart had taught him how to do this. Shadowheart was older than Staeve, but she had not spent her life throwing her body violently into danger. So. Some things were different.

Staeve made the process difficult. He kept turning his head when Astarion was in the middle of a braid to press his cheek into Astarion's fingers. Or reaching up to take his hand. And then Astarion had to stop and let that happen, lose the braid, and start again.

The fifth time he was interrupted Astarion couldn't take it anymore. He stopped Staeve, catching the wrist of his interruptive hand, leaned down, and kissed him. On the temple, just above his left eye.

Staeve closed his eyes and smiled. As if he'd just gotten away with something. As if he'd just managed to steal something, despite it being freely given. As if he were exactly where he wanted to be.

Then he turned away and looked out the window again.

"I think Astarion has a crush on me," he told the city, as if it were a person. "How embarrassing."

And Astarion might have said something clever or cutting in response. But he couldn't, because just then he had to take a moment to compose himself.

He kept having to do that. That wasn't like him. How strange.

-

Samaritan Reference

Evening Reference

Other BG3 stories.

our endings bound

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one with Ethan’s suggestion

Description | Ethan suggests something that you had never seen coming - but for how long will you be able to resist him?

Content | smut with a bit of fluff

Pairing | Ethan x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3138

Tagging | @ginny-lily @mywritingonlyfans

***

"You did not just ask me that."

Ethan didn't even seem bothered by your shocked reaction. Instead, he simply kept looking at you, waiting, as if he had posed a completely normal question. You were certain it wasn’t though - who the hell just came out and asked one of their best friends to start hooking up? Surely this wasn’t just you thinking this was more than odd. You couldn’t stop looking at him, relaxing on a lounger in the sun, book still open in his hand, and how he didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, come one, Y/n,” Vic interjected from where she was relaxing on a pool float. “Poor Ethan hasn’t been with anyone since the pandemic started. The least you can do is help him get laid.”

“Get laid by me?!”

“Who else?” Victoria laughed. “It’s not like he can go out and pick up someone when we go on a promo tour in a week. We’re barely allowed to meet anyone as a safety measure.”

You shot her a pointed look and Victoria being your friend for the longest got it immediately.

“And no, I’m not gonna hook up with him. So it’s gotta be you.”

You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. Had everyone simply gone crazy? Surely, Thomas wouldn’t be on their side in this, right? You watched as he lazily strolled towards your loungers, cigarette in hand.

“Thomas!” You shouted over at him. “Ethan wants me to hook up with him!”

“Fucking finally,” Thomas laughed as you stared back in horror. Was everyone in on this madness? “He’s been moping around for ages. About time he gets laid and relaxes.”

“See?” Ethan interjected. “Everyone thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea!”

“Fine,” Ethan shrugged. You hated how much he didn’t seem to care - how he had posed a question like that without an ounce of awkwardness and how your rejection didn’t seem to faze him in the least. You knew he was open about sex and sexuality, you’d been part of countless conversations among the band and had seen him pick up people at parties more than once, but this unnerved you. "If you change your mind, I'm available."

And with that Ethan went back to his book, Victoria went back to floating around the pool and Thomas went back to smoking his cigarette. But you weren't going to go back to anything, because whether you liked it or not, Ethan's suggestion would continue playing in your head for the unforeseeable future.

***

Three days. It had been three days since that fateful day at the pool and you could barely stand to look at Ethan. It wasn't because you were embarrassed - you all spoke about such things quite openly - nor were you angry at him having asked in the first place - if anything, it was flattering, a man such as Ethan considering you attractive in that way. It was more of a constant thought in your head whenever you were in the same room with him or he talked to you or you looked at him or he so much as popped into your mind. You kept lying awake at night, intrusive thoughts of Ethan towering over you clouding your brain. You didn't know what it was but you knew you didn't like it.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as Victoria approached you, taking a couple of tomatoes you had spread in front of you and started cutting them up. You had been in charge of making dinner most days, with one or the other coming to join you in your cooking endeavors sooner or later. Today it seemed to be Vic, who was giggling away beside you, quite obviously dying to tell you something.

"And what is up with you?" You asked, a smirk on your face. You were happy your friend seemed so giddy and it had you itching to know why.

"I have a date!" Victoria was never one to keep things like these to herself for long - whenever she was positively excited about something, the world simply had to know. "Her name's Paula, she's on holiday here and we're going to go out for wine."

"Just wine?"

"Well, I'm gonna say, don't expect me back here tonight." She couldn't stop herself from smirking and then breaking out in another round of laughter and you joined freely. Good for her.

"I miss dates," you mused. "Or maybe - I don't know. Maybe I just miss at least staying the night with someone."

"You really need to get laid, babe."

"Who needs to get laid?" Damiano had appeared without warning, sneaking up on the two of you and pinching both of your waists teasingly before hopping on the counter next to where you were working. A slice of tomato was stolen and ended up in his mouth before you could react, only hitting him in the arm when it was much too late.

"Y/n," Victoria answered nonchalantly. You stared at her in annoyance but she didn't even catch your eye.

"So does Ethan! You guys should fuck."

"Not you too," you groaned. All of this seemed like a bad joke. In fact, you were starting to wonder if this was all some weird plot your friends had to get you to sleep with Ethan. But why would they?

"Huh?" Damiano sounded surprised but you didn't put it past him to simply put on a good act.

"Ethan asked her to hook up the other day."

"No way!" Damiano exclaimed. "He actually, fina- I mean, he actually asked you that?"

"Yup, and she shot him down," Victoria explained. You were getting more annoyed by the second. Especially because it felt like your love life (or lack thereof?) was being discussed without you. Plus, you couldn't shake the feeling they knew something you didn't.

"Aw, poor Ethan. You know, you should really give him the chance. Make the most of the fact that you've both got the house to yourselves tonight." Damiano's eyebrow wiggle earned him a tomato slice to the face due to pure irritation on your side. He wasn't bothered, quickly shoving it into his mouth and happily munching away on it.

"Wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?"

You sounded much more panicked than necessary. So what if you were alone in the house with Ethan? You'd survive. Easily. You'd read a bit of your book, maybe watch a movie, go to bed. You didn't even have to spend time with him. Right?

"Going out with my girlfriend, she's in town for work. Not sure where Thomas is off to but he's already left" Damiano shrugged, finally hopping off the counter to hopefully stop being in the way. "So, if there's anything you want to do, do it tonight."

***

So this was it. You were alone with Ethan. No, this was nothing. So what if you were alone with him? Not like it was going to change anything at all.

You had said your goodbyes for the night to the two lovebirds, wishing Victoria the most possible fun on her little date, before pouring yourself a glass of wine and retreating to the patio. You had no idea where Ethan was and you didn't mind.

The sun was setting, the temperature was more than bearable and you had your book lying next to you. Eyes closed trying to enjoy the last rays of sunshine, your hand grasped the stem of the wine glass, and fuck that moth scared the living daylights out of you. And caused you to spill your wine all over your blouse. Red wine. Crap. One was supposed to wash those out immediately, right? Right? You realised you had no idea, as you sprinted towards the upstairs bathroom, already unbuttoning for fast removal.

You threw the door open, feet set to move towards the basin, when you realised you weren't alone in the room. It happened in slow motion, as much as you hated the cliché of it all.

Ethan's back was towards you, strong, hard muscles visible under an array of water droplets that were slowly, slowly making their way downwards, hypnotising you and keeping your gaze locked on them. Your eyes were still travelling lower and lower when he noticed your presence, turning around out of reflex, and you could not help but notice he was not wrapped in a towel, nowhere close, when your eyes fell on-

Oh.

Oh.

In a rare moment of clarity, you tore your gaze away, looking up at his face instead, just to find him eyeing up your cleavage. Your blouse was halfway undone, putting your white lace bra on full display. Then his eyes snapped away and looked into yours instead. For a second, it felt like the world was standing still. Your brain only worked for another moment before it decided to let your body - or potentially your heart? - take over.

You told yourself 'fuck it' - or maybe you said it out loud, judging by the sudden smirk appearing on Ethan's face - and reached for the man in front of you. He reciprocated without hesitation, pulling you in and meeting your mouth with his, as he walked you backward until you hit the wall. His body felt hot against yours, providing a stark contrast to the cold tiles pressing into you. His hands cradled your face softly, fingers stroking along your cheeks, while he kissed you, open-mouthed, in a way that left you breathless.

If you had ever had doubts that sex with Ethan would not be worth it, they had evaporated into thin air altogether.

His hands had started roaming your body, finally landing on the last buttons of your blouse. You had expected him to slowly open them up, but instead, he tore the fabric apart in one swift movement, buttons flying and hitting the ground with little clacking noises. You wrecked your mouth from him for a moment, staring at him in both surprise and awe.

"Spiacente," he murmured, although he didn't look all that sorry. "I couldn't help myself. I can get them sewn back-"

"Ethan, stop talking and start fucking me."

Your bold words took both of you by surprise but none of you minded, simply relieved that you were on the same page. His hands were now grasping tightly onto your thighs and, and without giving you a warning, he lifted you up, still pressed against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively and he took a step back, finding his strength and balance, and slowly carrying you into his bedroom.

You couldn't stop staring at him. Ethan's beauty was a sight to behold on any given day, but the way his lips looked kissed after just a short while and his eyes had that kind of shine to them that had never previously been directed at you, it felt like you were looking at something ethereal. Never mind the fact that you knew he was completely naked, not just the toned chest that was pressing into your torse, but everything else. Hell, you were sure you felt a certain something press into the back of your thigh quite shamelessly.

He dropped you on his bed, leaving you to bounce slightly on the mattress as you lied on your back. He looked like he was about to devour you and you just knew you'd bend to his every wish.

Without any further hesitation, Ethan moved onto the bed, immediately grabbing onto the shorts you were wearing and slowly pulling them down your legs. He held eye contact with you the whole time and you were convinced you had never seen anything sexier in your life. Your panties were the next piece to leave your body. Normally, this would be the point you got nervous about, crossing your legs, hiding behind hands, anything to protect what little of your modesty you had left, but this was different. Ethan took all shame away from you.

"Is this okay?" He asked, as he slowly crawled upwards, spreading your legs and leaving hot, wet kisses along your calves. As much as you appreciated him asking for consent, you almost had to laugh - at this point in time, you had lost all willpower to deny him anything. So, with a blissful smile on your face, you eagerly nodded at him, your hand reaching down and tangling itself into his hair. He groaned as you gave a little tug and the sound was more than enough to get you even wetter than you already were.

At least that was what you thought up until Ethan put his mouth on you. You had been expecting a bit more foreplay, maybe his fingers, but instead you felt his tongue lick along the length of you. Your moan loudly echoed through the room and you had never been so glad that Vic, Thomas and Damiano had deserted the two of you in the house.

Your grasp on his hair tightened as he started flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. The fact that you could feel his hair tickling the inside of your thighs only seemed to make you more sensitive. Suddenly, one of his fingers entered you, quickly to be joined by a second. Your back arched off the bed in an involuntary reaction as your breathing became more and more laboured. You could hear- hell, you could feel him chuckle against you.

With a sharp tug, you pulled his head away from you.

"I'm not going to be able to take much more, Ethan," you confessed. He looked up at you with wide eyes, chin wet from going down on you and fingers still slowly moving in and out, and you momentarily forgot what you meant to say. "So if you wanna fuck me, I suggest you get a move on."

He didn't need to be told twice. You still sighed in disappointment when he actually removed his fingers from you but you were quickly distracted by him moving them to your mouth and slipping them in. You eagerly sucked on them, twirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, and his composure was slipping with every second he looked at you. He quickly pulled his fingers from your mouth to crawl further up your body, his cock moving against your leg. He was so well endowed it would have almost been frightening if you hadn't been so turned on.

Ethan kissed you with a force that was unparalleled. There wasn't even a question about who was in control. As his fingers trailed from your neck down past your collarbones you both suddenly seemed to remember you were still wearing a bra. You made short work of the piece of fabric, carelessly throwing it across the room, and he thanked you by squeezing your soft flesh in the most delicious way. You repaid the favour by letting your hand wander to his cock and giving him a few strokes. He immediately let out the most sinful moan you had ever heard, head collapsing onto your cleavage.

"I don't think you need any more help from me down there," you giggled.

"With you lying under me like this, I sure don't."

Moving your legs around his waist once more, you slowly guided him into you, your walls swallowing him bit by bit, careful not to stretch you out too fast with his size. It felt like heaven on earth. You both moaned in pleasure as Ethan slowly started moving, making sure you were comfortable as he looked into your eyes, while you broke the eye contact time and time again, too overwhelmed to leave your eyes open every time he thrust into you. You kept grabbing onto what you could, the back of his head, his shoulders, his butt, as he increased his speed, hitting you in all the right places every single time.

You knew you weren't going to last long, not with him on and in and all around you, not with his fingers playing with your nipple, not with his lips clumsily attaching themselves to various places around your neck and shoulders, and as you felt his hand between your legs, softly circling your clit once again, you were gone. You came in waves of euphoria, unashamed of the volume of your moans and the strength with which you pulled on his hair. Your actions, combined with you clenching around him and a few more thrust, had him follow you moments later.

He carefully slipped out of you, never once letting go of you, and turning you onto your side with him so you were facing each other. Both of you were still breathing heavily, vision cloudy, but intertwined. You were convinced he had ruined you - there was no way anyone was ever going to live up to how he made you feel.

"So, did it live up to your expectation?" You couldn't help but giggle as you posed the question. "Getting laid again after such a long time?"

Ethan pushed a damp strand of hair from your face. You hadn't expected such softness.

"It wasn't actually about getting laid, you know."

"Huh?"

"It was about you."

"Okay, you've lost me now," you said, brows knitting as your hand searched for his, finger entangling the same way your legs were doing. "What are you talking about?"

"I... I've liked you for a while. And I tried so much, but you never even noticed."

Your mind replayed the last few weeks you had spent with the band in their summer house. Instances of Ethan bringing you food, cocktails, adjusting the shade to make sure you were in it, offering to put sunscreen on your back. Moments of him searching for your company, moving much closer than necessary in the heat, arms constantly touching when you were sitting next to each other. Jokes and teasing from the others, drunken remarks. You hadn't paid attention to any of it. You wondered how you could have been so blind to a man so wonderful.

"Wait, so instead of asking me out like a normal person, you suggested we hook up?" You couldn't keep the laughter in now. The situation was simply too ridiculous and you had not yet stopped riding on your high from the endorphins he had caused.

"It was Vic's idea." He buried his head into the sheets, but you could still see his cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. "She knew I missed sex and she said you mentioned something similar so she thought this was the way into your..."

"Pants?"

"Heart, actually."

You snuggled closer, arms wrapping around him so that your noses were touching.

"Well, as embarrassing as it is, it somehow worked, didn't it?" You stroked over his head lovingly. "And I'm sure not letting you go any time soon."

[wh6res]

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[insanescriptist]

Flip the Board

Barbara Gordan wished to punch Murphy's Law in the face; surely there was a manifestation of it available somewhere. If nothing else, surely a Lord of Chaos, would suffice. She wasn't picky.

And that was her summary of her day before noon. Her birds were off in Europe, extracting an informant and whistle-blower on a crime ring she couldn't care much about right now.

Barbara liked Zatanna Zatara; thought her the most useful and most charismatic of Justice League Dark. She was prompt, well-educated, communicated clearly, was reliable and thoughtful in her plans. She could lead, she could follow, was a team-player and powerful enough to truly make a difference where ever she was. It was why she was in high demand.

Barbara did not have the same high opinion of her relatives, especially the one who was house-sitting and ward-sitting in Vegas. Who did eventually get word out to contact the right people to muster for an emergency, but it took far far too long.

Starting late was always irritating.

Barbara would graciously admitted that it was through little fault of their own; Zatanna's spare communicator wouldn't work to connect to the Watchtower when the Watchtower itself was going through some scheduled and then a bit of emergency maintenance, resulting in the communication systems being highly limited and then down for the better part of three hours.

Instead, Zatanna's house-sitter managed to get in contact with Zachary Zatara; Zatanna's cousin and retired Titan about twenty minutes later through an unsecured personal line. Who then contacted Red Robin, as he suited up through the Titan's communication systems. Red Robin, in his civilian identity, routed the call to her systems. From there she had an agent and an operative. One who was barely a Titan, but still was highly concerned about whatever had occurred.

Zatanna's wards had measured a magical disturbance of significant magnitude; enough to where Zachary had noticed it and he was more of a stage magician than a real magical powerhouse. And from there, for Barbara the possibilities got worse.

She hacked a weather radar satellite to get video on Vegas; it was still standing. For now.

She put out a roll-call protocol on the Bats; they'd get a debrief as they checked in. Weather they should be on-call or settling in for a show was yet to be determined.

"Give me a run down on how Zatanna's wards work to determine the level of magical disturbance."

"It's not easy to explain," her temporary agent hedged, heading towards the Zeta closest to him, with a temporary emergency override to let him use it. "But it works like those old Chinese earthquake detectors. The strength of it has to be so high to be noticable. There's always a little shifting going around with magic, bigger shifts being like those tinier Earthquakes."

"And how high would you rate this?"

"Without seeing her set up? At least an eight. I felt it at home."

Barbara took a deep breath. Like earthquakes? So a logarithmic scale ward. An Eight. Fuck. "I'm pulling Raven from the Watchtower, and calling Flash to help search."

Barbara called Wally and dropped the necessary information. Vegas, magical disturbance, help search and potential evac should the magical disturbance be something like Trigon coming up from a Hell. Coordinates of the zeta. She flicked back to Vegas; still standing.

Then she called Cyborg at the Watchtower; relayed the appropriate information and then let Cyborg shift attention to Raven. Oracle told him that she'd grab Captain Marvel if she could; Flash was already notified. That left Cyborg to get Raven to Vegas.

Raven was a powerful magician as well, but she was not as friendly as Zatana and was more limited in scope by her own rules. She didn't want to risk being like her father and so did not make the fullest use of her innate magical powers. She functioned more as a support and researcher to Justice League Dark, so she'd be rusty if it came to combat. More of a risk in combat than Barbara would like, but needs must.

By now Flash would be moving towards the Vegas zeta close to Zatanna's apartment and her scouts heading towards it.

Oracle sent a notification to Captain Marvel, but how soon he'd get back was a mystery. His hours available to Fawcett and the Justice League had reduced for no discernible reason. The easiest explanation was him having obtained a job, but if he did have one, it wasn't one he had a legal identification for; Barbara had run a check on all the state issued IDs to see if she could find more out about him than Batman could, but that hadn't got anywhere.

Then she had Bats checking in.

"Oracle, what's the situation?" Dick asked.

"Magical disturbance in Vegas, scale unknown but not looking great. Zee's cousin and Flash en route for more information. Raven's being notified by Cyborg; memo sent to Marvel."

"So report to cave?"

"You yes, you know B will go there. Going to send notices to the rest of the Bats about ongoing situation."

"Hood too?" Dick asks, wary.

"Yeah. If he even has that line of communication on him, which..."

"Gotcha. Off to the Cave." Dick

"Oracle, should I contact Pennyworth for pick-up?"

"Negative; waiting for more information on the on-going situation. Development may not need field action. Please stand by."

"Tt."

Further notices sent, time to see... "Z-two, I see you're in Vegas now. How's it look?"

"Still standing. Gonna check on Z's wards to see how big of a disturbance it is. It's only been a half hour or so, so we might see aftershocks. Hopefully. Not fore-shocks."

That was a wonderful idea for thought. She didn't want this to be some sort of fore-shock of a magical event.

"Oracle," Batman called. "How's check-in?"

"Nightwing en route to Cave, most of the crew are currently detained by other responsibilities. The Birds are off in Europe on an extraction job. Going to notify the Sirens to make ready should the situation deteriorate and we pull more Bats."

"Hm."

"Putting you on hold, got Z-two on the line." She switched lines. "Z-two, this is Oracle. Do we have numbers on our oh shit scale?"

"So you know how I said an eight earlier? Wards say eight point seven."

"Okay. Give me a reference. Demon invasion, Trigon. Make your best guess."

"Trigon's a seven." Zachary informs her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, goes the mantra in her head. "So any further information?"

"Not yet. Gonna coordinate with Flash to find the epicenter, see what went down. Haven't sense any further magical disturbances, so if someone was summoning something worse than Trigon, they denied the summoning and that's what set off the bells."

"Is that likely?"

"No, but a man can dream it's possible. Demons are easier to summon because they want to be summoned. So they can eat people. Most everything else doesn't like the interference in their lives."

"Leave you to it, either you or Flash check in when you find more out."

Touch base with B now. "B, confirmation of immense magical disturbance. Trigon scale. Get the Justice League heavy hitters prepped. Going to send a memo to the Titans for their speedsters if we have to evacuate Vegas."

Which honestly, fuck whatever magician decided to use Vegas. Massive transitory population.

Checking roll-call... Jason's still not checked in. Which isn't unusual. Where did he dispose of a Bat-phone this time? Where was his Bat-phone?

Oh. He's in Vegas too. Got in, made calls, sat around according to phone data. Recent notes in the phone? Working a long-shot lead on a case. Note was written for anyone capable of hacking that connection which-

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"B, you better not-" wait wrong person to attempt to persuade to do anything.

"Nightwing, B's calling Hood's Bat-phone; Hood's on the ground in Vegas, has been since before we got notifications. He's working a case lead."

"Vegas, where leads go to die." Nightwing huffed. "B, he's not going to talk to you. O, where's he at?"

"Determining now; going to get camera confirmation and..." Barbara flicked through several screens. Demolished the basic cyber security. Flicked through more screens, some more useful than others. "Found him. He's in a hotel saloon in civvies; footage is a little corrupted but magical disturbance might explain random technological issues. Haven't had time to confirm potential tampering. B, I want you on the ground coordinating in Vegas, not trying to hunt Hood down."

"Aww. He let me ring out too." Nightwing complained.

"Nightwing, I want you with Raven. She just arrived in Vegas, so meet her at the Zeta."

"Roger, will-co," he smiled as -bat cave camera confirmed- he skipped to the Zeta.

"Z-two, you getting closer?"

"Yeah. We're triangulating and we've narrowed it down to a couple block radius, so Flash took off to manually search so should be-"

"Oracle, got a location. Giving me the creeps. You said you got Raven coming in?" Flash's motor mouth wasn't the easiest to understand but at least he didn't mumble.

"Yes."

"Okay. Going to give directions and pick up a barf bag or three. It's pretty grizzly."

Oracle let the directions flow over as she rang up Jason. Who actually answered her.

"Uh-huh, so what's up? Because I gotta say, I am a couple drinks in and the whole bar is waiting for one of the football teams to fumble or foul up their next play so they can throw down."

"Jay-" This fucking asshole sometimes. Time to tone it down. Less Oracle, more concerned friend. "Hey, it's on the news that the Justice League is showing up in Vegas; something about investigating something magical showing up."

"Uh-huh, that's not a surprise. There was some magic ninny flying in a panic earlier. I decided it wasn't my business."

"I hadn't heard that," because she had actually seen that on camera "but what I did hear that some cult might have succeeded in bringing something over."

"Uh-huh. Well, no one's praying to Cthulu yet, there's been no troublemaking beyond the usual human malice and nothing's on fire."

"We were just concer-" And he hung up.

"Is he involved?" Batman demanded to know, because of course he was listening in, and tracing her camera connection in the Batcave when he was supposed to be in Vegas.

"Undetermined at this time; doesn't look likely. Phone data points to him working a case. Back-tracking now."

"Who's he with?"

"Currently unknown meta at the bar. Looking him up; will reach out later. Focus on the potential Trigon level bad situation B."

The problem with finding metas is that they usually didn't out themselves. Some couldn't help it, drawn to villainy or heroism but others? They made a living being ghosts or hermits.

Listening in through the phone, the unknown meta had a Mid-western accent, a little bit of a non mid-western accent on some words. She couldn't place it immediately beyond "still American," and that irked her.

Drawing up a mental profile, she screenshotted an image from the security cameras, cleaned it and starting up the profile program. In a minute, she'd run the face through the usual data bases, see if she got a hit.

She could get lucky.

"Nightwing, you at the summoning location?"

"Yeah, it's pretty grizzly, if you tap into my mask feed. I'm collecting evidence with Raven right now. Wanna see if you can pull up any identification for these cultists. Most of them still have faces."

"What's preliminary work-up in terms of summoning?"

"Raven, you wanna explain?"

"From the sigils, it looks like they were trying to summon a manifestation of the Endless. No, don't interrupt. Think of it as an Elder God's grandparent. Like a primordial force of the universe poured into a teacup, hence the one body exploding. The main signs point to summoning Destruction. Except Destruction gave up directly governing his realm on Earth back in the early 1700s so his sigils no longer work on Earth. His realm still exists because destruction is an omni-present force in the universe. But the summoning pulled something through to kill the rest of those present."

"Are we looking at a situation like Trigon?"

"Undetermined still. Destruction and those under him are the most human-like when it comes to existing. For in destruction there is also creation."

"And him abandoning his realm?"

"Something he does with every world that reaches a certain point of civilization. He is said to be the kindest of the Endless, even if he's not the friendliest."

"Oh, who's that?" Nightwing questioned.

"Death." Raven answered. "Meets everyone twice. The other sigils point towards Death and also Delight, which should better be thought of as Mania, Delirium and not plain and simple joy."

"Okay, so what does that mean? You've got destruction, death and crazy together." Flash asked. "Makes a wild combo."

"It means," a deep voice, laced with static. Barbara tapped into Nightwing's mask feed. "That you've got ghosts." The man-ghost laughed.

That was absolutely a villain laugh. And that was certainly a villain's love of drama. Green skin, dark hair, white suit, red on the underside of the of the cape. Dark gloves and dark boots.

"The dead do not greet the newly dead with joy, so let us play our parts heroes."

Barbara heard a crash and more of that laughter.

"Flash!" Nightwing's mask feed swung around to see Flash having been smashed into the ground hard enough to make a shallow crater. More noise and shit. Shit. That was Raven getting body checked through a wall. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"This is Oracle speaking; confirmed hostile from summoning. Repeat, confirmed hostile from summoning. Self identifies as a ghost; estimated height at 6 foot. Green skin, dark hair, white uniform with cape, black gloves and boots. Escaped north from the summoning site after downing both Flash and Raven."

Barbara switched channels. "Any serious injuries Nightwing?"

"I'm fine. Flash is getting to his feet. I'm checking on Raven." And so Nightwing flipped through the holes that had just been made in the walls and looked at the crater in the next building that Raven was stumbling out of. Mask feed said Nightwing checked the area around -including above- before running toward the sorceress. "You okay Rae?"

"My pride will recover."

"So," Flash asked. "Who we gonna call?"

"Not that kind of ghost, Flash." Raven interjected.

"But I wanna sing the theme song."

"Nothing's stopping you."

"Yes!"

Flip the Table

Casually eavesdropping on what should be highly secure frequencies, Jason sipped his beer in a sleezy saloon style sports bar somewhere on the Vegas strip, nominally watching college(?) football; he's a hockey fan because baseball's boring as shit to watch and he's never got the appeal about American football. Football to the rest of the world was at least worth watching for the drama. Something had the Justice League in a tizzy and Zatanna -the one who normally covered Vegas when it came to the costumed crazies- was off world; Jason didn't have the details exactly but it sounded like Zatanna was dealing with some magical planar stuff and was not expected back for at least six more days. Assuming all went well.

So like any reasonable person who's going away for a time, she turned on her home security, had the alerts wired over to a friend -in this case Justice League Dark- gave a list of what was needed to be done and when -the pick up my mail and mow my lawn equivalants- went on her trip, trusting that the JLD were watching over her city and it wouldn't be on fire when she got back.

Such glorious hope.

And thus something happened so when Jason pulled into Vegas proper to investigate a desperate -read last hope- lead on a missing person's case, Jason happened to spy one of the lesser members of the JLD losing their shit in the sky. And so in a moment of civic duty, Jason started spying on them.

Magic was not something anyone trained by the Bat really ever got comfortable about, but chances were magic bullshit was going to intervene in his case. Justice League shit spilled over everything, all the time. Ghost cultists tripping Zatanna's necromancy alarms or whatever they were, was not Jason's business. Not unless the presumed cultists -those that had survived- had the person he was looking for.

No, he was looking at a missing person's case and his lead was 1. cold and 2. a longshot and 3. in a city full of tourists and catering staff, where "seen anything unusual lately" could be "there was this trio of tourists arguing how sex with your best friend doesn't count as cheating," or "someone having a meltdown over the delayed shipping of organic blueberries to the hotel," or "Sarah Maria got murdered a couple weeks ago on the job, but I haven't seen any notice about her funeral stuff on her social media, why yes, I do know she's dead, oh, she's dead and I'm an idiot for expecting someone dead to post on their socials their funeral deets."

Point was, he could look and ask all he wanted, beat feet for days, but the chances of this lead panning out were basically so minuscule that Jason could treat this more as a hobby case while on vacation. He still did his due diligence, asked the staff a few questions, called the guests on the same floor during the time period of their stay about how they found their stay, ran into the dead end of shitty business practices -they recorded over their own records every two weeks- and so unless Jason got the ability to do magic and do a "point me!" spell, the case would turn cold. It sucked when it happened but sometimes the evidence wasn't there. Or wasn't noticed or was destroyed before it could be collected. Sometimes people just didn't remember shit until three weeks later, which with some follow up digging gave him the lead to the hotel. Which got him nothing after that.

As Jason Todd didn't gain an innate ability to do magic that he was aware of that actually counted as magic bullshit magic instead of a couple cantrips, all he could do was get a beer and some food in a Vegas style Texas saloon bar. Which not his first choice, but it was full enough no one really paid attention to anyone. Technically a sport's bar but also very much was not. It was also busy enough that Jason ended up getting asked if someone could set with him at his table -which real Jason said hell no to, but cover Jason did agree to-

Oh. Meta. Jason realized quickly. Oh no, he's hot.

His hair is on fire!

How did the server miss that? Most metas don't casually out themselves like that! Too many people willing to target them for whatever power.

That hair was flaming, tied back in a low tail; Jason blinked and the hair flickered color, looked like normal hair -black- and then back to white fire, then black fire, some tv static abomination of color, white hair and then black hair. Another blink and it appeared to be black flames for hair and yeah, Jason closed his eyes. Pointedly ignored the hair thing. If the meta asked, Jason was judging him for the stupid little goatee.

The rest of the meta was built along the same lines as Jason himself, tall, broad and built. Packed with muscle, which was something to make note of; metas usually were more durable and could hit harder, so Jason casually made note to not get hit if a fight broke out.

Which it might, or probably would.

That's just how Jason's luck ran. To shit.

Said meta also ordered food and a beer, didn't even get asked for ID -unfair bias- and judging by the sound, turned in the seat to look at the American football screen that Jason had been ignoring. His hair had at least settled to black flames instead of the glitchy hair.

Of course as this was Vegas, people gambled on outcomes of games too. Which is how Jason learned the meta was rich enough to blow a couple grand -not expensive in the world of supers- but more than what the average person would be comfortable betting.

There were better ways to piss away money than gambling on sports. Like on over priced burgers and onion rings with an order of mozzerella sticks. The burger was good, admittedly Jason's had better and then some party of guys was yelling at the ref on a screen. And yup, that's some altercation with another table but the barman broke it up with a couple of words.

His tablemate muttered something about the ref having made the right call if one of the players wanted to continue a career professionally and Jason used that as social leverage to get a name -Dan, no last name given- and a bit more in-depth explanation on what stakes were going on; he's a hockey guy, not a football guy.

Some time later, Dan had caught him up on the football drama -nothing compared to the hockey drama- and conversation had drifted significantly from sports, lightly touched on family -Dan had siblings he shared little about other than they existed, which fair, they could also be metas and at risk- much like Jason did -he had siblings that existed, no further details- and parents weren't mentioned. Instead a lot of engineering talk, a slide into ethics -Dan's opinion on killing super villains was very much that some people needed Ended- and some small talk about how Dan's high school English teacher cursed in classical book titles.

Soon the easy joy of potential friendship ended when his phone rang; that was the Batman ringtone and Jason felt no guilt hanging up on him. And again. And again.

Then Dick rang and nope. He was not dealing with their shit. Dick would just sweeten up whatever shit B wanted to shovel.

And then Oracle's ringtone rang. Oh, now that was serious. Justice League shit spilling into his life again. No fucking doubt about it.

"Uh-huh, so what's up? Because I gotta say, I am a couple drinks in and the whole bar is waiting for one of the football teams to fumble or foul up their next play so they can throw down."

"Jay-" She started because much like Bruce, she would rather go straight into the mission, and Jason absolutely had wrong-footed her. Because instead of making excuses to leave, Jason had absolutely stayed. So now she had to rephrase things on the fly because who knows who might be listening in. "Hey, it's on the news that the Justice League is showing up in Vegas; something about investigating something magical showing up."

"Uh-huh, that's not a surprise. There was some magic ninny flying in a panic earlier. I decided it wasn't my business."

"I hadn't heard that," -bullshit, she just hadn't double-checked that herself yet- "but what I did hear that some cult might have succeeded in bringing something over."

"Uh-huh. Well, no one's praying to Cthulu yet, there's been no troublemaking beyond the usual human malice and nothing's on fire."

"We were just concer-" And Jason hung up on Oracle.

He'd pay for that later, but petty was satisfying now.

"Sounded important."

"Was bullshit."

"So an entity summoned by a cult that tripped a bunch of magicians into a tizzy-"

Yeah, those sharp ears were not for show. Enhanced hearing check. "That's a bunch of incompetents panicking." Time for his good guess to hit or miss. "You're not going to decide to destroy Vegas, are you?"

"Done it before, doing it again seems pointlessly petty." Statements Jason wasn't going to prod further right now.

"And what if Wisconson University loses?"

"Might flip the table." Dan shrugged.

"More beer?" Jason asked.

"Sure."

[mgsapphire]

Ethics and morality... and how they're not the same...

Weird title, and I don't even know if I'll properly approach this one with all the topics I wish to this discuss in today's The Devil Judge essay, because a lot of things peaked my interest, I was debating on doing a separate post for each subject, but I'll do them all in here:

Starting simple

I know we're only 4 episodes in, but I want to break down the things that I often look for in a new show:

Cinematography

Soundtrack

Character building

Plot devices

Social commentary (sometimes)

Of course, these are things most people would consider basics, but I find that a lot of TV shows don't have enough balance in them. Also, cinematography and soundtrack are pretty up there for me because when a plot gets slow, or something like that, I stay for those two (biggest example: King Eternal Monarch).

The soundtrack in The Devil Judge is amazing and the cinematography can be a character of its own. They really get me hooked and are used as tools to properly tell a story. And I'll get into that further down this post.

The onlooker will never understand the actor

Experience is your best friend not only applies to job hunting, but it's true in the real world too. You can't truly weigh in on something unless you've experienced it yourself, you can give it your judgment and everything, but when bad things happen to someone, you'll never truly understand their pain. Am I bringing up because of the difference of mind in Judge Kang and Judge Kim's opinions? On how the public treated the minister's son? No. I'm talking about a very specific scene, where the cinematography told me to think that way and not the dialogue (it's that easy for my mind to be swayed). In episode 3, when the rich are about to dine right after the foundation's commercial for a better future, we see this aerial shot:

What's interesting about this? The seclusion and the enclosed feeling it conveys as a counterpart to the poverty shots we were just shown. Yet, these are the people making ads for a better future, what do they know?

They live comfortably behind concrete walls with no windows to see what goes on apart from the bubble they live in. This idea is further enforced at the party in episode 4, where they're not even a part of the donations, and watch and mock from afar as spectators. Yet, these people call the shots. They even call it commenting, as if they were watching the pain of others on TV.

The intriguing personality and the duality it encites

Now, this was a costume and wardrobe decision, but it was also very well thought of:

Judge Kim wears white and Judge Kang wears black. One is morally perceived by viewers of the show as morally good and the other is perceived as morally dubious at best. However, besides the costume and wardrobe thought put into this, we also have to think about the delivery of this scene and how it may further affect my detailing of this section. Judge Kang brings down the coats, and hangs over the coat to Judge Kim, he's the one who is making that annotation: You're pure, I'm tainted. This can have one of two interpretations:

Either Judge Kang believes Judge Kim to be pure and innocent due to his status as a rookie in the field

Or he believes Judge Kim to be morally white and himself morally black as he's looking at his brother's face and not at Judge Kim's heart.

Because most of the back story we're unveiling is through Judge Kim's perception, there's also an inherit bias we're having as well, because in Judge Kim narrative, he believes he's doing what's right and believes Judge Kang to be evil. In being served information about Judge Kang through Judge Kim's eyes, our bias is inherently skewed.

Another thing is that, when they put on the coat, they're standing in front of the other, as if the producers of this series are telling us they're two sides of the same coin.

The duality is made in more deceitful ways, which include:

A difference of classes that implies one has suffered while the other has not.

A difference of experience that implies one is more tainted while the other is pure.

A difference of age that implies one is a sly fox while the other one is is bunny about to be eaten.

A difference of temper that makes one erratic and the other logical.

Power dynamics

This one, in this one I could make a whole thesis based on just a couple of scenes in the drama. And you know I have to mention it: director Jung being the puppeteer.

It may not be as unexpected at first, nevertheless it brings forward a lot of things I've wished to touch upon for quite some time now. A woman being a puppeteer of an old man in the portrayed dystopia that The Devil Judge is painting makes much more sense than more common demonstrations of these dynamics where it's either a:

A man of power being controlled by a bigger man of power.

A man of power being controlled by a seemingly man of a lower status.

A woman being controlled by a man of power.

Although, there's nothing wrong with those power dynamics, and if they were to be used, a message could also be conveyed, this one in particular works as a megaphone.

A subversion of power in such a way can be interpreted as a true indication of the weak overcoming the powerful. Why? It is not that woman are naturally weaker than men, but that in society, patriarchy has been a big factor in taking voice away from women in order to give it to men.

In order for Director Jung to achieve her purposes, it's smarter for her to do it under the pretense that an old rich man in power is the one calling the shots.

This is better exemplified by her stance when the old man tries to excuse his behavior, and what her moral compass is. I'm not saying I agree with her unethical conduct, but that her morality is directly impacted by the perception of the public of her as a weak woman:

Just because a dog bites a human does the person get dirty?

This is telling on how she perceives the actions of the old man in gropping the waitress. She didn't do anything wrong, even if you touched her, you are the dirty one.

While she's evil, it's a refreshing and deep evil.

The public's opinion and how there's actually logic in the show's portrayal

The public opinion can make or break a person, even if it's not on a public trial like this. While "cancel culture" barely works in today's society, a person's reputation is forever tainted. The show does tell that, but it also exhibits the scary downside of it, by showing how easily it was to make people accept flaggelation as a fitting punishment.

There are many experiments that have tried to test the effect of societal pressure on an individual's decision and the effect of the authority's enforcement of power in the outcome of these decisions. Furthermore, theories based on analysis of human behavior not necessarily relying on experiments can also help break this down. What do I mean? Here's a small attempt at explaining:

Milgram Experiment on Authority: which measured the individual willingness to carry out actions that go against their conscience due to an authority's approval.

Argument from Authority; The idea that people are more likely to use an authority's opinion on something as an argument for their reason. This is often seen in science, where trusted authorities have done the research and offer it to the public. In here, authority bias also plays a role, as we often believe, at first, that an authority must be right.

Moral disengagement: basically speaking, because this is evil or bad, I'm not part of it and I most probably am not actively participating in it. One may disengage by moral justification, which means that before engaging in something that has been previously perceived as immoral, I'm changing my stance on it based on what I tell myself to be logical arguments. This particular form of moral disengagement is very effective in changing the public opinion. I'll be touching on another form further down this post.

Other factors played a part, but these ones in particular came to mind when public flagelation as a form of corporeal punishment was wildly accepted. First, an authority is the one telling them it's correct, to go ahead. Secondly, another authority (the minister) had previously shown approval to such unusual punishment. Thirdly, they are not the ones to be engaging directly in the act, and even if they were, it would be acceptable because an authority has told them so. They may even believe the punishment to be a necessary evil for the greater good.

In fact, the minister's son was actually correct when pleading his case, they were accepting it because it wouldn't affect them directly.

Regarding the cinematographic descent of the public opinion regarding the situation can better be exemplified by the old man we've seen through the episodes.

Does suffering justify misdeeds?

Today I came along the difference between excuse and reason. You may give a reason for your behavior, but it doesn't excuse it.

Not because I've suffered through shit, means I have to make you suffer too.

I may explain myself, but it's on the other side to excuse me.

Why I hate the unreliable narrator and why I love it so much

This story has been told mostly through the eyes of Judge Kim and what he hears and sees regarding Judge Kang, if anything, the narrative is very close to that of the narrative we've seen in The Great Gatsby. An enigmatic man is being narrated to us from the eye of a man who hasn't known him for a long time.

How is that an unreliable narrator? The narrator has their own set of bias and moral standards which function as lenses through which they see the world.

Another way of putting it would be the way teenage romances are often written in a first person narrative where either of the two teenagers is the narrator, so the author can sell to us something as simple as offering a pack of gum as the most romantic act on earth. We're perceiving interactions through rose tainted glasses.

In this case, we're seeing the interactions through Judge Kim's eyes who doesn't trust Judge Kang from the get go due to his own preset bias.

The narrative becomes even more unreliable as we're not exactly sure if what Judge Kang disclosed himself is a fact.

The reason why I love this narrative is because it leaves a lot of space to make simple plot twists to a narrative and make them seem grand, and can elongate a story without making it obvious.

The reason why I hate it is because sometimes, in tv shows mostly, we as viewers can see the other side of the story and grow increasingly frustrated with the main character's prejudice and misunderstandings (I'm looking at you my beloved Beyond Evil).

Also, because I have to wait for a long time before I actually have a clear picture of it.

[aeempress]

Apritello Express Evidences, part 1

Greetings, Apritello enthusiasts and attention! Here comes a loong post is written by totally nerd. You've been warned. Here we go.

The thing is that Apritello is a double-edged sword. The series shows us established friendship of these two, give us a lot of content with them. We can see development of relationship through interaction between the characters, their reaction about the situations they are put in. We can sense their synergy and bound through the show.

Donnie and April have incredible chemistry, and both options, brotp and otp seems fine to me.

But let me tell you why I ship them.

Apritello is the kind of pairings, which consists of small details, hints, that's hidden, but if you're sharp and attentive one, you will notice that. Apritello has a strong foundation: the best friends trope.

And from the very beginning, it works as planned.

When I start watching show, I could say that April and Donnie are best friends. It is worth noting that April is like an older sister to the other brothers, more of a sisterly figure than a friend, but with Donnie she behaves somewhat differently, namely, as best friend. Obviously, she sets him apart from his brothers, although girl tries to pay attention to all of them equally. And Donnie behaves as well.

Dee's battle shell designs for April needs as well as his. His shell transform into comfy spot for taking ride for April. Special and only for her. Because his bros are not supposed to use it (at least, he carries no one on his back), Donnie carries them by his techno-bó or his limbs.

This tiny detail shows his special treatment to her. April is a very, very special occasion to D. Don does care about her comfort, he accept the way she is. Donatello does not try to prevent her from participating in their affairs because he respects her decisions and is pleased that April can be shoulder to shoulder with him.

D is glad to be at her service.

Yeah, Dee's still playing cool, he has image to perform as tough and coolheaded guy. So Don doesn't show his intentions, interest and feeling to other people (he's tryin', but fails). Because his actions matter. They are always small, hidden, but meaningful.

April, in return, trusts Dee and depends on his tech, even knowing what his inventions are the opposite of success (usually).

Go on. Look at Donnie's facial expressions and body language when April is near.

Donnie seems more relaxed when she's around, happier. His emotional response is always different from his brothers ones.

Oh, and look, he wanted to be first to give her a high three.

They worry about each other. Look at Don. He does worry about her way more than his brothers. Yeah, they all want to protect her, but Donnie is more expressive.

Mayham has no particular sympathy for the brothers: he is afraid of Raph and behaves aggressively, he is indifferent to Leo and Mikey. Mayham immediately takes a liking to April. And then the details come back: he let Donnie touch his neck. The most vulnerable place for any living creation, for a second. Let him to study an important vial without any hesitation. Mayham depends on April trust for Donnie. When everything goes wrong for Don, the little doggie comes to his rescue, just as April would have done. Is the hint transparent enough?

We can see links with "A mystic library", wherе Donnie begins to look for solutions to save April's pet. Yes, this may seem like his next leap, "sit down, I'm smart, and now I'll solve all the problems, watch and learn," but Don says one phrase that opens up the veil of the second plan, what happens behind the scenes. "My illiteral colleagues and I was conducting a mustic research, with a life of the beloved pet, hanging in a bounce".

Strange wording, Donatello. Beloved pet? Not yours, as we can see. I can say, that everything in this sentence is true, but Donnie and Mayham has something more.

Continue. Next episode "Origami tsunami". Interactions are kept to a minimum, as April herself appears for a maximum of 5 minutes in the series itself. But devil is always in the details, dear friends.

When April was attacked and hung up, the only one who excitedly called out to her was Donny. Raph is furious that the thieves have escaped, Leo is frustrated that their plan has failed, and Mikey is worried about the salami.

Yeah, we didn't see his worries about her when she fell, because Donnie is on the mission and must be coolheaded turtle, and second, he's calm because now April life is safe and sound, out of the danger.

Dear passangers, Apritello Express arrives to the next station - episode "War and Pizza".

Bare facts:

1. April has Donnie's number on an emergency call.

2. "Anything for you"

3. Donnie is the reason why Alberto knows April's name.

No one calles April by her name (except for Donnie, while phone call, but Alberto wasn't nearby) it was "Captain O'Neil" by her chief, her badge seems blank. And yeah, you can say, that's just economy of budget, but I assure you: in the first episode we were shown the name of the delivery guy. The animators were not lazy bones and wrore "Stewart" on his badge. So if something isn't there, then it either shouldn't be there, or it really isn't, that's how this show works.

So, the reason explained in the episode. When Al has short circuit, parts of its new code flashed through its mind.

Info about April was in its memory, in its code. Alberto was a lame animatronic, and it seems somewhat outdated. I do really doubt about Alberto is being something smartass machine with complicated AI like Freddy's Pizza's ones. Quite questionable. Donatello fix Al's brain and wrote code, synchronize with his remote control. He put information about Cap O'Neil into animatronic's head. All this pictures are kind of massage: "You was created for birthday celebrations. You are machine, and there concepts of "life" and "birth". Do great party for this birthday kid and April won't be like this". Or, something like that.

So Alberto did - do a memorable party. And he do what his creator programmed him to do, but in his way.

4. In other words, Alberto was a tool to impress April. Don flaunts himself in front of her, stating how he did the upgrade while doing the upgrade, even though April is fully aware of his tech wizard. And his abilities supposed to help Cap O'Neil to finish the birthday party, so she will stay at her job, not fired. All thanks to Donnie and his upgrade Alberto. (Or not)

By the way, Donnie was the last to leave April in ruined "Alberto's". And it's not an isolated case, it is a pattern.

5. They understand each other without words.

First, Donny came at her at the speed of light. Second, she hadn't even finished speaking before Dee was taking Al apart. Third, their chaotic, well-coordinated work? Donnie was a distraction (although he wanted to just take a break from the battle or let Alberto's guard down, while April just knocked him out). Donnie and April are great team, and sometimes the DonniexApril team is much more precise, coordinated, and interdependent than the DonniexBrothers one.

D&A feel each other and anticipate each other's actions, their skills complement each other, creating an incredible synergy of their interaction. They act as a whole, while it's not always possible with his brothers, even though they're family and know each other the way more Donnie know April. And Dee hasn't trained with cap O'Neil.

Donatello didn't show his crush for April. No puppy, loving eyes, no lovey-dovey speeches, no planning schemes (at least, the audience don't see one) . He just want her attention, but stays cool and hidden. D is already her BFF, but still.

The same thing is claimed in 5B episode - Mascot Melee. Donnie has no problems with interaction with idol of his childhood - Atomic Lass. She'd put Leo in a stupor, but Donnie? He playfully challenges her to a dance duel. Yes, he adores this character, who may have become his measure of the attractiveness of others to Donatello, determined his type. But still, he's playing all cool and confident guy, he's really smooth with girls, so you will never see a puppy loving eyes from him. Only two things can betray him at this point: his voice and his body language. Remember, how's soft his voice became for Atomic Lass? Now I want you to remember the scene before, in turtle tank, when April sent guys a meme.

D is the first to respond to the message, despite the fact that Mikey is sitting closest to the screen. And the responding is a little too emotional for this situation, don't you think?

And this face of his. And he comments it. He likes her sense of humour.

The only difference between April and Atomic Lass is that the first one is a real girl who is a friend of their family, practically a member of it; and the other one is just a fictional character. It is easier to say about love for a fictional character, because it brings less problems for a teenager, especially when he is living with three brothers and a father who likes to tease as well. Donatello needs to be careful and outline the area of emotions he could show, so that he does not get hurt.

Now, dear passangers, we are returning to the previous episode, shall we?

Donnie presents to his brothers his precious Turtle tank, but she's gone, and it's really necessary to find out, who has taken her. And the first person to suspect is April.

Something is odd, don't you think? Yeah, Raphael has taken tyre for their "Midnight special", Leo claimed that Donnie's stuff is common, but they are D's beothers. It's natural for family to borrow(stole) stuff of each other. But this trend was not observed in April. She would never steal anything from Donnie, much less steal anything from him.

Actually, there is a good, logical and solid explanation here. April was number 1 in Donatello' suspect list, because he simply told her about Turtle tank. His brothers didn't know he were working at Moon buggy, except Mikey (Orange helps Dee get the vehicle from Repomantis), but they didn't know what exactly Donnie was working for. They didn't know he build the Turtle tank, he kept it a secret, to surprise his brothers. But April knew.

- Alright you! Where's our turtle tank?

- Hi, DONNIE. You have 9 seconds to say, why are you just broke my door.

- Someone's stole Donnie's turtle tank.

- Haha-ow, I see. As your best friend, you naturally suspect me.

- She gets it!

- Oh-ho, don't give me that! You're the only one could taken it!

The only one, because she knew about it.

As Splints said in this episode - "April is not a snitch"

Donatello does trust April and share with her both, sorrows and joys. But we are not shown this directly. We do not see the action itself, we do not see their calls and conversations on the phone late at night, we only see the consequence. We have no choice and take it as a given.

And the way she cooled him down? Fast, efficient, and Donnie seems to used to it. Moreover, she slapped everyone, but still, she throw Don out of window the last. However, why such a large time delay between him, being slapped and him, was throwing out of the window?

And my favourite scene. It was obvious that Donnie had taken the hardest hit (judging by his scream and the way he was putting his knuckles back in place). Don then claims that their inner circle is secure, Mikey tries to make amends for everyone, and April agrees, blowing them a kiss and closing the window. Cute and mean, isn't it? (You're cute! but mean! why do I always go for your type?! - ep. War and Pizza)

Nota bene: Donnie wouldn't apologize to April. Tough, not caring badass boy image, remember? Even to best friends. It's hard to him to express his feelings by using words, he cannot do it in proper way. But he has Mikey, who is so alike inner him. Michelangelo apologizes not only for himself, but for D mostly, because D starts suspected April.

Let's continue: the episode 8B: Hypno Part Deux

• Donnie put "Donnie's blocker" at April's phone to protect her.

It's common thing that your friend install some programs or apps on your device. But you will always ask your friend to do such a favour, and you will always know about what, when and where were installed on your phone.

And April didn't know Donnie had done something with her phone. It was a real surprise for her, to see blocker with "Donnie says no-no-no".

And you know, the interface of his app. The way he tell this current phrase. Donnie could put a huge banner "THE APP YOU WANT DOWNLOAD TO IS A REAL PIECE OF GARBAGE", as usual antiviruses do. But no, voice interface. It makes the app more personal and thoughtful. Because when Don made gifts for his brother, the program was voiced by a computer-generated female voice. Yes, the tank's interface is voiced by Donatello himself, but his voice sounds more like Google than the real Don. And, we talking about HIS BABEY, for a second. Bit still, the point remains.

• Also, Dale.

Dale is nerdy boy in purple, wow, how convenient for making a parallel with certain purple turtle.

But thing is, April doesn't like Dale. He's clingy, remora guy, who has a little obsession with April, even he's not harmful, still, such behaviour freaks girls (and not them only) out. Her classmate is usually tell her what April O'Neil is "his favourite person" and he loves her. There is little that is attractive about this behavior.

So, there is nothing new and unpredictable here that Dale was rejected. Because April didn't, doesn't and won't like him because of his lame personality and strange behaviour. Our girl in yellow do right thing: she clearly sets personal boundaries and does not allow any dubious personalities to invade them. So that's the reason she refuses to go on a date with him at the end. He's weird, obsessed, and she doesn't like him.

Donatello, as far as I concerned from different versions of TMNT, was always a little obsessive with some things. And, you know, putting a blocker inside your best friend's phone seems a little weird, because it's, in simple words, violation of privacy and personal space. And there are people who may regard this as stalking or sorta.

Yeah, for the most part, he gets away with it, not only because April's focus is in a different area, but also because their bond is stronger than April's with anyone else at school.

She has known him for years. Donnie is her best friend. I can't say that it's fine to her when Dee violates her personal space - her phone, but April can accept Donatello's personality in general.

And he does really have good intentions. Donnie installed this blocker, developed by himself only for one reason: to protect personal space April from fishy apps from nowhere, from being hacked and etc. Don knew her too well, how much she depends on stupid apps that will distract her. He also knew well, that he can't be with her 24/7 to fix problems with April's phone, so Dee put a part of himself to prevent any harm in the future.

And again, "Donnie's gifts"'s vibes. Donatello genuinely cared about April, because he wrote, coded, developed, designed, and dubbed it, turned on the database, and installed it all on April's phone. 'cause, you know, writing programs in general is a bit of a hassle, but writing an antivirus is much more difficult, because viruses are changing, and questionable applications are finding ways to bypass. Do you feel how much effort Dee put in for her?

But Donatello didn't mean to fix April, as he tried to do with his brothers. Purple turtle accepts this girl the way she is, and tries his best to play smoothly with April, by adjusting, not being passive aggressive jerk. It's his outstanding way to show his caring nature, soft side.

Remember, small but meaningful actions.

Maybe, Donnie also can foresee that April may be forced to download some suspicious program, but still, it work: he managed to prevent April being hypnotized, even if couldn't be physically with April at the this moment - Dee was working for Repo Mantis, building dog's paradise for Todd. That's why, by the way, Leo and Raph were dragged into this whole situation. Mayham would teleported literally anyone to help his hostess. Donnie just wasn't at the Lair at the moment.

And on this note, we'll take a break for now. Stay tuned, expect parsing of the series, there's a lot to discuss.

Part 2

Part 3

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 2

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This is the longest chapter, but it's worth it, I promise.

Word Count: Ch 2 - 2952

In case you missed it: Chapter 1 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We've Got Tonight

Chapter 2

Clutching the strap of her backpack in a death grip, Andy silently crosses the landing. She places her foot on the top stair just as Dean rounds the corner from the hallway below her, both hands fisted in his hair. Even from this distance she can read the lines of tension in his shoulders. Her stomach twists, nausea and joy warring at the sight of him, and she can’t decide if she should turn and sprint for the door or throw herself at him and admit absolutely every foolish thing she’s done.

No. No, not foolish. She’s saving the world. That’s only a little stupid. She’s saving Cas and Sam. That’s good. She’s saving Dean.

That’s non-negotiable.

Then her weight settles on her foot, and the goddamned step creaks. Dean’s eyes snap to hers. For one hopeful moment, relief and genuine happiness flood his expression, and he smiles. The unclouded light shining from his face scraps any thoughts she has of bolting, and Andy makes it halfway down the steps before she’s engulfed in his arms.

He embraces her fiercely, and Andy allows herself a couple of seconds of peace and comfort, of the sense that she’s somehow home even though she’s only known him for a few weeks. Then the overwhelming realization of everything she’s signed away comes crashing down, closing her throat, choking off her air, and suddenly even the heat and safety radiating from Dean into her very bones isn't enough to ward off the chill of dread.

But she’s doing this to save him, to save Sam, to save...everyone. So, really, she’s not losing anything. If you save something, it’s not lost, so, really, she’s not losing anything.

Right?

Then her face is trapped between his hands, his face inches away, his eyes boring into hers with that burning intensity. The lies evaporate on her tongue, and she wracks her brain. What was she supposed to tell him? She has to say it before he starts questioning her, or she’ll blurt out every single thing she swore she wouldn’t.

“Are you okay? Where the hell were you? Was it those anti-Jesus freaks? How did you get away?”

What? Oh, yeah. The cultists. The whole reason she has a lovely new scar on her left arm and she met the Winchesters in the first place. The source of all their current troubles. Well, the main source, aside from her blood. Yeah, that would have been a good cover story, too.

Shit.

“Andy?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” she manages, thankful at how little her voice shakes. She puts forth the effort of the ages and extricates herself from his grip, an act she recognizes as necessary while regretting it all the same. “I’m sorry I scared you. I had a lead, and I had to leave right away. They were really twitchy when I first contacted them, and I thought they might take off if I waited too long or tried to take anyone else, and by the time I realized I’d lost my phone it was too late to come back.”

Anger and disbelief seep into his expression, tainting the relief that animated him only moments before. “Okay, first of all, we’re going to have a long, detailed talk about taking off on your own for any reason without backup, much less chasing your own leads, because no. Just no. Second, what the hell? Did all phones between here and wherever the hell you went just vanish?”

“You programmed your numbers into my cell, but I never memorized them. I didn’t have any way to contact you once I got there, and-”

“And you couldn’t leave a damn note?!”

Deep breath. Keep steady.

“Look, I’m really wrecked, Dean, it was a long drive, and it ended up a bust. The guy never showed. I’m dying for a shower and some food. You can interrogate me all you want, but can we not do it right here, right now?”

She pushes past him, brushing him off in a way she’s never done before, but if he keeps gazing into her soul with those jade laser beams of his, she’s going to lose every ounce of self-control. Her fingers tremble with strain, and she clutches her bag tighter, determined to hold herself together for his sake.

She only gets a couple of seconds of reprieve, though, just barely making it off the staircase. He catches up with her as she passes the map table, aiming for escape through the library, and he snatches her elbow. His grip is harsh as he pulls her around to face him, and her fingers fumble at the fierce heat behind his eyes. Her backpack drops, spilling its contents on the floor.

Her stomach bottoms out. She immediately tries to crouch down, to stuff her papers and books back in before Dean can see them, but his grip tightens on her arm, and he forces her back up to meet his eyes.

“You don’t get to disappear for two and a half days and then just-”

“Andy!”

Oh, thank god for Sam.

Andy takes advantage of Dean’s surprise to pull out of his grasp, but before she can bend down, she’s engulfed in a second, longer set of arms that feels almost as much like home as his brother’s.

God, what has she done? She really is going to lose everything. But this has to be worth it. Saving them is worth it, she knows it is. It’s going to be okay.

“Andy, are you okay? Where were you?” Sam is still in his concerned phase, and she’d like to make her exit to gather her thoughts before he hits Dean’s level of suspiciously pissed. She knows of no force in Heaven or Hell that can withstand the combined onslaught of Dean’s anger and Sam’s lectures.

“She says she found a lead,” Dean cuts in before she can try to explain herself. He’s definitely on the outer edges of pissed, and that’s fine. She can handle pissed, she just has to figure out what to do before he reaches volcanic levels of anger.

She drops down before anyone else can stop her and starts shoveling handfuls of papers in her bag. She needs to get them out of sight. She should have burned them, why didn’t she burn them, god if Sam sees some of it, he’ll know what she did without her having said a word to him, and -

“Andy, what the hell is this?”

Dean’s voice has dropped to a low, measured growl, and her eyes slide shut in dismay.

Don’t admit to anything, you don’t know what he found, just -

“You said you lost your phone, and now it falls out of your damned bag? You’re lying to me? Why-”

“Maybe because of this,” Sam cuts in, and she hears a rustle of papers from her other side, and she swears that it’s the loudest sound she’s heard in her entire life. It doesn’t matter which of her papers or which book Sam is showing his brother. They are all equally damning, and she really should have known better than to think she could get away with this plan.

“I had to do something. We were running out of time, so I made a decision while I still could.”

She’s impressed and surprised at the steadiness in her voice, the actual conviction. She is equally surprised to find herself standing when she opens her eyes, looking down at two of the most important people in the world, one of whom is regarding her with dismayed shock, and the other…

Her stomach wars with her brain; rational thought says the logical response to someone glaring at her with as much venom as Dean is packing is to run. Her stomach, on the other hand, is fully in favor of ejecting all contents in sheer terror. Somehow, she manages to shove down both impulses and stand her ground.

There’s a long moment where it seems like the whole bunker, the whole world, holds its breath, waiting for something to snap the tension. To Andy’s astonishment, Sam breaks in before Dean’s temper can explode.

“Tell me you didn’t. After everything we’ve told you, everything you know about us and our history, you called a crossroads demon? Where did you even find the summoning spell?”

She turns incredulous eyes on the younger Winchester. “Sam. I...really, Sam? When I asked to help, you put me on research. I didn't know where to look, and you gave me a stack of books, most of which had some variation of that or a similar spell in it. You gave me access to one of the world’s biggest fix-its, and you didn’t think I would do something with that?”

Sam opens his mouth, his face set with stubborn indignity, but he falls silent as Dean stands abruptly. He stalks past Andy, his silence far more worrisome than any shouting or lecturing could ever be. He stops at the bottom of the library steps, gripping the back of his neck like he’d rather have his fingers wrapped around something’s throat, and he stands like that for what feels like forever.

“I made a deal. To save you, Sam, Cas. Everyone. I had to do it.” Andy can’t stop the words that tumble from her trembling lips, and she can only be thankful that she doesn’t have to see Dean’s face as she says them. She should never have tried to lie to him, to them both, but especially not to him. Not after all the lies he’s had to live through.

“I won’t apologize. I found a way out of the end of the world when we had no other options, and I took it.”

Dean stands stiffly, unmoving as she confesses to his back. Sam wisely keeps his mouth shut, kneeling on the floor to look through Andy’s papers, avoiding looking at either of them. The gravid silence that hangs over the room is broken only by the thudding of her heart and the crinkle of pages as Sam rifles through her backpack’s spilled contents.

“Explain. Now.” Dean’s words are quiet and caustic, their bitterness cutting Andy straight to the heart.

This isn’t what she wanted, but their time is too short to try to work everything out. There will be nothing like a fairy tale ending for them, so she forces herself to say what she can. There are still some details she doesn’t want to tell him; if he knew everything, he could keep her here, keep her from going back to finish the deal, and she absolutely cannot let that happen.

“I did what you and Sam do every day. I did my research, I made a plan, and I faced the monsters. I made a choice, Dean.” She only just keeps the notes of desperation from creeping into her voice, though it’s a near thing.

He moves as she speaks, turning back to the table, his face inscrutable as he leans down to grip the back of one of the chairs. He holds onto it as if it’s the only thing keeping him together, and she feels a ridiculous stab of sympathy for the piece of furniture that’s bound to come to a bad end.

“And you think sneaking around, lying to all of us, and making a deal with a crossroads demon is going to magically fix everything?”

He’s too calm, too quiet. The chair creaks ominously under his fingers, and Andy takes a hasty step back. Sam rises, his forehead wrinkled with concern as he takes a step towards the table.

“Andy, just tell us the details,” Sam interjects, his tone low and placating, like he’s trying to calm a cornered animal. “We can figure out a way to get you out of the deal. What did the demon you met with look like? Did they tell you their name? How much time do you have?”

“God DAMN IT!”

Dean slings the chair to the side, and it skates over the floor, shredding through her papers before slamming into a support pillar with a deafening metallic clang and careening across the room. Sam steps up protectively next to her, his hands half-raised like he can’t decide if he should try to talk his brother down or block more pieces of flying furniture.

“Why, Andy? Why didn’t you just wait for Sam or Cas to find something? We were looking!”

“There was no time left, Dean!” She knows there aren’t enough words in any language to explain her decision in a way that will satisfy him. It doesn’t matter to him that she’s one of the sources of all their troubles right now, or that she is an adult who was perfectly capable of making decisions about her life long before the Wonderful Winchesters and their guardian angel rode into town.

“We had days left, at best! I don’t want this anymore than you did, but it was my blood that started this whole disaster, my blood the cult needs to finish everything, literally everything! It’s my blood that’s the solution to this whole shitshow, and that means it’s my mess to clean up. I learned that much from you and Sam, at least! You clean up the messes you make, whether you meant to make them or not. You, of all people, could at least try to understand!”

“Understand what?! That you think selling your soul will actually fix anything?”

Dean closes the distance between them, his fingers digging hard into her shoulders, knocking Sam to the side as he disregards all concepts of personal space.

“Selling your soul never solves a damned thing! And don’t you think for one second I’m gonna let you go through with this deal.”

“I’ve already gone through with it, I signed the contract. You can’t stop it, and you can’t change it. He said you’d try, and-”

“Wait a minute, ‘he’?” Sam cuts in, and Dean’s face flushes a deeper shade of crimson.

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t make a deal with that son of a bitch Crowley.”

Fuck.

“I made a call,” Andy finally answers. “I was either going to hell and taking the rest of the world with me, or I was going by myself and keeping the rest of you safe.”

“You had no right-”

“To make decisions about my life? The hell I don’t, it’s my life, Dean! Who gave you the right-”

“We were supposed to be in it together, you and me! It’s not just your life, and you damned well know it!”

The three of them stand frozen, the words echoing faintly through the enormous room. Sam gaping at the two of them, Dean grips Andy like he thinks she’s about to bolt, and Andy tries desperately to remember why she’s not simply throwing herself into Dean’s arms.

Castiel, with his impeccable timing, chooses this moment to enter the bunker. The creaking door catches their attention, and all eyes turn to Cas, who stands on the landing, surveying the tableau of chaos beneath him. His eyebrows lower, his consternation clear.

“Andrea?” Cas’s voice is confused but gentle as he cautiously descends the stairs. She knows from the stories Sam and Dean have told her that her friend has a fearsome warrior side that makes even the worst demons think twice before approaching, but she’s never seen a hint of that part of him.

She’s seen this man soberly examining a bowl of Cheetos, questioning their attractiveness to large, feline predators; she has a difficult time picturing him facing down the worst monsters the universe has to offer, and yet, according to Sam and Dean, he does so without hesitation on a regular basis.

Which is why his cautious approach should really worry her.

“Dean, is it really necessary to hold on to Andrea quite that hard? You’re bound to leave bruises, and she doesn’t seem to be attempting to leave.”

Dean releases Andy abruptly. His face is dark and lined with the effort of repressing his rage, and he storms past the bewildered angel. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the banister, legs flexing and trembling as if he has to force himself to stop even that long. Sam takes a step towards him, but Cas holds out a restraining hand, and for once, Sam complies, though he looks seconds away from protesting.

“You should’ve waited, Andy. You should’ve talked to me, given me a chance to find something, anything but this. I can’t...I’m done. I’m fucking done.”

He climbs the stairs three furious steps at a time and is out the door before anyone can think of how to stop him, leaving Andy lost in the remnants of his anger and her shoulders aching more from the loss of his grip than the roughness of it. Her throat is burning, her jaw aching with strain, but her eyes are dry.

There was no other way, there just wasn’t. I did the right thing, and damn Dean to Hell if he thinks I’m going to cry for that.

“Andrea?”

Cas reaches out and steadies Andy, his grasp gentle and comforting in stark contrast to Dean’s furious hold. He considers her for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Our lack of information regarding your whereabouts was quite troubling, and we assumed the worst.”

“Maybe not the absolute worst,” Sam sighs, leaning wearily against the table. He scrubs his hands over several days’ worth of stubble before rubbing his eyes. When he speaks again, he can’t even meet her eyes, and an acidic splinter of shame twists in her stomach.

“You really should have waited, Andy.” ...

Chapter 3

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6

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Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3

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A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!

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Chapter 6 . .

Be not inhospitable to strangers,

lest they be angels in disguise.

(W. B. Yeats)

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When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.

He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.

Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.

“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.

Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”

“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”

“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.

“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”

“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.

“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”

“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”

“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”

“No problem.”

While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.

“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.

“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.

Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”

Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”

“A while.” Another elusive answer.

He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”

“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”

“And Emma?”

“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”

After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.

He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.

Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.

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~·~·~·~

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Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.

During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”

“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”

The boy greeted him with a wide grin.

Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”

“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.

“I see. And why are you…?”

Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.

“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.

“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”

The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”

The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”

“Why boring?”

Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.

“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”

Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.

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~·~·~·~

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Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.

All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.

But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.

So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.

David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.

Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”

She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.

“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.

“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”

“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.

The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”

After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.

She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.

Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”

“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.

Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.

Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.

“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.

At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”

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~·~·~·~

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Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.

Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.

He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.

“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.

She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.

Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.

“And she for you, I take it?”

Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.

“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.

Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”

The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.

“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”

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~·~·~·~

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The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.

After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.

Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”

Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.

Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.

But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.

Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.

“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”

The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”

“Thank you, mate.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.

“May I help?” Henry barged in.

A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.

“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.

“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.

Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”

The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.

“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”

“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.

“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.

Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”

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If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.

There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.

Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.

On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.

And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.

Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.

Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.

Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?” She purred.

Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.

Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.

“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.

Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.

“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.

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~·~·~·~

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Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”

He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”

He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.

In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.

He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.

Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.

“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”

She didn’t answer.

Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.

She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”

She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.