#at the same time I shouldn’t really care much if nobody’s looking at them either way

[heartlesscorpse]

Besides doing my posts w/ Pyramid Head, Ghostface, and so on I wanna share some things with my ocs from time to time as well but also I’m scared and my rambles aren’t much besides the one moot usually looking at them. 🫠

[thewulf]

Don't Cry || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - In that, you mentioned Dally and Two-Bit walking the reader home and I had a request idea I wanted to send you. Could you write a Dallas Winston x reader where reader is a little younger than him but he’s really protective of her??... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh these Outsiders requests are so much fun! I'm writing them so quick. Fresh inspo is so much fun. Thank you for the request and hope you enjoy! @fluentmoviequoter

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: knifes, knife cutting, blood, crying, yelling

You’d known Dallas Winston for a long time. Not your whole life but it felt like it. He was always a constant in your life. Your relationship was always a weird one with the Winston boy. You could joke all day long in the confines of the house but as soon as you left it he wanted nothing to do with you. Like he was embarrassed of you. Little did you know he was just trying to keep your squeaky-clean reputation intact. For you might’ve hung, lived with and been around greaser’s but you weren’t one really. You were a greaser by association. Dally always said you were far too kind, too pure for this lifestyle so he tried his hardest to keep you as far away as he could.

It wasn’t easy when you gave him those pleading looks outside the Curtis residence to just acknowledge your presence. He tried his best not to cave. Not even when all he wanted to do was laugh about something stupid Ponyboy or Sodapop did. But you couldn’t be seen with him out and about so casually. Then the Soc’s would start to target you. He didn’t know what he was quite capable of at the thought of somebody hurting you. As he got to know you and the Curtis after moving to Tulsa he swore he’d protect you day and night. He wouldn’t let a pretty little hair on your pretty little head get touched.

He'd decided early on when he met you, he was ten and you were eight, that he was going to get you tough. He was going to be hard on you, not too hard though. If you were going to grow up a greaser then you needed to know how to defend yourself. He spent the next eight years teaching you, training you, protecting you. He didn’t realize when it happened but slowly he stopped looking at you like a younger sister. Those protective feelings went far deeper than familial love. No, he actually loved you. He’d fallen in love with the one person he really shouldn’t have fallen for. Darry would skin him alive if he knew. Soda would beat him into oblivion. Pony would tell him how disappointed he was in some sort of poetic way that went over his head. He knew he just had to keep these growing feelings quiet. For your sake. You didn’t need to deal with him or his endless amounts of baggage. Even if he could see how attached you had grown to him too.

To say your relationship had grown confusing and chaotic over the years had been an understatement. Even Darry had picked up on some of the awkward tension that seemed to pop up out of nowhere when the two of you were left alone. Soda caught onto the longing gazes Dally would throw your way. He even caught you a few times doing the same to him. Pony wasn’t blind either. He was your very best friend and confidant. Whenever the conversation of Dallas Winston came up you shied away. Scared of letting something loose on accident. All the brothers knew there was something there they just didn’t know if and what would happen.

After your parents had died he’d been there for all of you but especially you. You’d taken it the hardest. Your mom was your favorite person and she just disappeared one day. You were lost and had to rely on teenage boys to guide you through it all. Your parents had nobody they could fall back on to take care of you. Thank goodness for Dally. He’d quite literally pulled you out of the depression you’d slipped into by just being there. Helping you. Asking for nothing in return. That’s when you fell in love. He’d shown you his true colors under the layers and layers to Dallas Winston. Under it all he was there for you and promised to never leave. And you knew he'd keep that promise, you just knew it.

Slowly the months ticked by and you’d gotten back to normal. Going out with friends and boys. Dallas watching you like a hawk whenever you went on dates with guys he knew were nothing compared to you. But he decided not to say a word and let you live your life. It was worth seeing the smile come back to life after seeing you so sad for too long. Seeing you happy was worth it all.

So, when Ponyboy asked you to accompany him on a Paul Newman special at the movie theatre you couldn’t refuse him. He was so excited about seeing the film you could hardly imagine saying no to him. You’d always enjoyed the movies too so it was hardly a tough sell on his part.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a Saturday. Maybe if Dally was there to accompany you. But you couldn’t admit that. If you did then everything would change. Who knows what Darry would do to Dally. How Soda would treat him. This could get weird, and you hated weird. You’d rather keep it normal even if it meant having to keep him as a friend.

“Which one did you like better?” Pony asked once the two of you had left the theatre. He placed his hands in his pockets giving you a quizzical look. The two of you waked slowly along the cracking road that needed some serious repairs. Your head spun towards the street seeing a car full of Soc’s roll up chipping at Ponyboy about something, ignoring you completely. Even though you were over a year older than him Pony stood much taller than you. He pushed you behind his back as he yelled back at the boys. You tugged at the back of his shirt letting him know it was time to go. It wasn’t smart to get chippy with five of them in the car. They outnumbered the two of you and you were rather useless in a fight.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you across the street. After a moment of walking along the residential road you answered him, “The Hustler was far better Gidget Goes to Rome. Paul Newman really is a mastermind.”

He smirked bobbing his head in agreement, “Thought you’d say that.”

You feigned offense at that statement, “Am I that predictable Ponyboy Curtis?” You raised your eyebrows as you walked along the dirt path. The theatre wasn’t far from home thankfully. Maybe just over a mile. A twenty-minute walk or so.

“No. I just know you I guess dear sister.”

You smiled at your younger brother. Even since your parents had passed you’d taken on the nurturing role for him and even Soda more recently. Darry had none of it though. You’d grown close to your two brothers since their death’s. Darry kept his distance trying to do his best to raise you instead of letting you help him. He was trying to take on the role of your father without even asking if that’s the three of you wanted. But you didn’t dare question him.

You gave his hand a soft squeeze, “That you do Ponyboy. You know me better than anybody else.” You spotted a vehicle fast approaching from behind the two of you as you went in for a hug.

Your eyes widened seeing the same Mustang before barreling towards you, “We gotta run.” You grabbed his arm and started sprinting down the road. Pony was faster, so much faster than you, so he tried to drag you along only ending up tripping you in the process. They caught up in their Mustang an instant. He stood in front of you as you scrambled to your feet.

You gulped as the five boys got out of the car walking towards you, “Get out of here.” Pony tried to sound tough, but you heard the waver in your younger brothers voice.

One of them flipped a blade open. Your eyes shot wide open as you grabbed his shirt trying to tug him away. But they were faster as one of them tugged on your arm pulling you to the ground in front of Pony. You let out a scream trying to draw the greasers attention a few houses down. Hopefully they were hanging out outside like they usually were. Drinking beers or some shit.

“Darry! Soda!” You yelled as Pony as was taken down to the ground with you. He tried to let out a few calls for help but was muffled by something being shoved in his mouth.

“Shut her up.” One of them said, Randy maybe? You’d recognized him as the one with the redhead from school.

And before you knew it that same blade was placed right to your throat, “Pretty little things got a mouth on her huh? Maybe this’ll quite you down.” The overly-cologne scented Soc smirked as he pressed the blade across your throat drawing yet another yell right from you. He cut you. He really cut you.

Before you knew it they were running away. Your brothers and friends had heard you and Ponyboy yelling and came running right to your defense. It was only a little over a minute you were down on the ground, but that minute made you tremble. You’d never been so dominated like that in your life.

You looked down shocked at everything that had just happened. You’d felt the blood trickling down your neck more so than throbbing of the slice the Soc had given to you. Darry pulled you up from the ground, so you were sitting at eye level with his crouched form. After a moment of him holding the handkerchief up to your neck he finally spoke, “They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?” His voice was low. He was pissed. You knew you were in trouble later on once everything had settled.

You shook your head afraid to look at your older brother, “No, I’m fine.” You whispered afraid of what he might say next.

Ponyboy made his way over to you, crouching down next to Darry, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t…”

You stopped him, “It’s fine Pony. I’m okay really. Just a cut.” A small smile wavered over your face trying your best to reassure him.

Darry scoffed hating how you were playing this off so casually. Like his kid sister hadn’t gotten a knife pulled on her. Like you hadn’t gotten cut by that very same knife. It was every nightmare he had coming to light right in his backyard. At least the two of you had gotten that far before being attacked.

“Hey, Y/N.” Soda spoke after running up. His face dropped seeing the blood running down your neck, “Did they pull a blade on you?” He put his hands on your shoulders so he could get a better look.

Your face flushed with embarrassment seeing all of your brothers eyes right on you. Turning away you couldn’t take Soda’s intense gaze, “Yeah.”

He pulled your head back towards him, “Hey kid, they ain’t gonna hurt you no more. Come on.” Grabbing your hand, he hoisted you to your feet with ease. Darry gave you one last quick look before he grabbed Pony by the arm. You gulped knowing Darry was going to have it in for him. You needed to talk to your older brother about being so hard on Pony. It was just an accident after all. It wasn’t your fault the Paul Newman films kept the two of you in deep conversation not seeing the Mustang until it was too late.

Dally only interrupted you and Soda once Darry had pulled Pony ahead. He needed to make sure that his favorite Curtis sibling was okay. A minor wave of panic rang through his body seeing you pushed to the ground next to Pony with those boys had their filthy Soc hands on you. Rage washed over him as he kicked the side of the fancy car when they fled away from the scene.

Dallas’s eyes scanned over you with concern only stopping when he saw the trail of blood rolling down your neck, “What the hell is that? Did they cut you?” He took a step closer, grabbing at your face with a delicate touch. Almost as if he was afraid he’d hurt you further if he grasped on too tightly.

“Jesus, Curtis. What’d I tell you about defending yourself?” He gave your cheek a soft squeeze before dropping his hand. He spotted the already bloodied Handkerchief turned rag in Soda’s hand and held out his own to ask for it from your brother.

You looked down, “It was five on two Dally. What were we supposed to do?” You asked back earnestly wondering what the hell you were actually supposed to do. Run? Pony was faster and you’d only slow him down so that wasn’t an option. You’d already tripped trying to keep up with him. Try and fight? Well, you got a blade pulled on you so that wasn’t great either.

He bit his mouth trying his best not to snap at you. His adrenaline was high, and he was scared at the thought of you actually getting hurt, “I don’t know Y/N. Fight back? You were just lying there!”

You stopped walking abruptly, brushing Soda away knowing he didn’t need to hear the conversation about to go on between you and the hot-headed man beside you, “Can you go make sure Pony’s okay?” You asked him.

Soda gave you a curious look before finally handing Dally the handkerchief, “You sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You gave him a quick push before turning back to Dally, “What is wrong with you?”

He stepped closer so your brothers couldn’t hear ahead of you, “What the hell is wrong with me? I’m just trying to keep you alive Curtis. I should be asking you the same! Why are you out walking alone with Pony this late on a Saturday anyway? You two know better. Those no good for nothing assholes only want to fight.” He grumbled before dabbing at the semi-dried blood on your chin.

You let out a huff of irritation. He was being so caring yet so damn frustrating, “What? I can’t go anywhere without a damn chaperone now? I’m confined to my brothers house? Is that how it’s going to be Dally? Pony isn’t enough now?” Your voice was snappy as you pushed and pushed and pushed him. He was already feeling on edge from the whole thing and your attitude was about to be his breaking point. There was nobody on this planet that could get under his skin like you could, nobody except for you. You’d found a way to weasel your way into his ice-cold heart and sink a burning ember into it. For Dallas Winston would do anything for you. But man, did you frustrate him to no end.

“Jesus, you know that’s not what I mean! Stop putting words into my mouth Curtis.” He put his hands up in the air in frustration, raising his voice just a tad. Darry turned back observing, making sure you were fine. He knew Dally would never hurt you. He could see the way the Winston boy looked at his younger sister. He wasn’t stupid. Dally had always been soft on you. Except he wasn’t. He pushed you harder than he pushed anyone. He wanted you to know how to defend yourself. With your hands, a knife, a pipe whatever. He was going to teach and push because he needed you alive. You were the only thing grounding him to this planet at the moment.

Your eyes narrowed on his, your voice raising as well, “Then what do you mean Dallas? Go ahead. Say exactly what you mean. I can take it.” You’d only used his full name when you felt like being patronizing.

He looked like he was contemplating everything before he turned back to you, “You need to be more careful!” He snapped. He didn’t raise a hand on you but instead yelled right at you stopping you in your tracks. Dally had never yelled at you before. Scolded sure. Disappointed yes. Angry, of course. But yelled? Never.

Your brothers must’ve seen the look in your eyes as they all stepped in. Darry pulled Dally away telling him to cool off. Soda grabbed your arm pulling you back towards the house. And Pony happily chatted away trying to take your mind off it.

“Dally’s just an asshole, you know that!” Pony’s final ditch effort to get you to smile came up miserably short.

You gave him a solemn nod, “Yeah, I know. Never to me though.” The sadness in your voice must’ve been evident because that had him quiet down the remainder of the short walk home. You brushed them all away telling them that you were ‘fine’ and going to take a nap.

They left you alone for a few hours but when you didn’t come out for dinner all three brothers grew worried. Soda knocked on your door lightly, “Hey kid. Supper’s getting cold. Darry made one of your favorites, spaghetti, and meatballs.”

It was sweet how much they cared on you when you were down, but damn was it suffocating sometimes. It was times like these when you wish you could run to your mom and ask her advice on it all. Boys were… boys and they often didn’t have a clue what ran through your head.

“I’m not hungry Soda. Maybe later, I’m working on homework.” You heard him sigh before walking away. You’d thought you would have gotten rid of them but another, much louder knock broke you away from the essay you were committed to finishing.

“Pony said you both skipped lunch to go to the movies. Come on down and get some dinner kiddo.” Darry’s much deeper voice spoke through the door. He tried twisting the knob but stopped when it wouldn’t budge. As much as he wanted to knock your door in he knew better. You weren’t like his brothers. No, you were so entirely different. He couldn’t treat you the same or you’d most likely find yourself a foster home instead.

“I had popcorn. I’m still full from that.” It wasn’t a lie. You weren’t hungry. You were uneasy and nervous. And wanted to finish the damn easy that you’d been staring at for the better part of three hours now.

“Alight kid, I’ll save you a plate.” He grumbled before beginning to walk away.

“Thanks Dar.” You hummed ignoring the lump forming at the back of your throat. You were so lucky to have your brothers who cared for you so deeply. You just wished they’d give you the space you needed.

And you thought they did before, yet another knock came to your bedroom door not thirty minutes later. With a huff you set the pencil down, “Go away Pony. I’m not in the mood.”

A laugh so distinct came from the other side of the door. That was certainly not Ponyboy, “Try again, sweetheart.” Dallas. Dallas freaking Winston. What had your brothers done?

Your palms began to sweat as your heartrate sped up rapidly, “What are you doing here?” It came out colder than you meant but Dally just found it amusing. He knew you couldn’t hurt a fly much less hurt him words. Albeit you might be the only person that could actually hurt him with words if you wanted to. Dally was soft for one person. You.

“I’m here for you.”

You sighed, “Go away. I’m not hungry. I don’t know who went and got you or called you or whatever. I’m not in the mood Dally.”

He put his head on your door knowing your mood was stemming from the argument earlier. He had snapped at you, and he felt bad. Especially after Darry of all people came knocking at his door pleading with him to come back to his place and talk to you.

His voice was low but he knew you could hear it, “You and I both know I’m not going away little Curtis. So, you can open that door and we can talk about it, or I can sit here all night waiting. Those are the options.” You heard his stubborn ass slide down the door. You knew they could most likely pick the lock or break down the door. But Darry wasn’t stupid. He knew it’d cause more harm than any good. You needed your safe space away from all the madness of being a greaser. A place you could lock yourself away from.

“Please,” Your voice cracked as fresh tears flowed down without you even noticing, “Just go away.”

You heard him click his tongue, “No can-do sweetheart. I gave you the options. Your turn to pick.” His voice was smug. Was he relishing in making you squirm? Neither was really an option. Both forced your hand. But then again this was Dallas. He got what he wanted.

You tried to turn back to your essay all you could think about was Dallas freaking Winston sitting on the opposite side of your door. You knew his stubborn ass wouldn’t leave either and that drove you nuts. You’d never be able to finish the essay or go to bed knowing he was sitting there just waiting on you.

With a heavy sigh you got up, walked towards the door, opened it without so much as a second thought and found him sitting right next to your door, “Go away.” You tried in your meanest voice, but it came out as a whisper.

He shook his head as he stood to his feet, “That’s not going to happen sweetheart.” He leaned against your doorframe pushing you back inside your room.

“Why can’t you guys just leave me alone for one night? One stupid night. That’s all I’m asking for!” You’d hardly ever raised your voice, but you were tired. Exhausted. Scared of the Soc’s that pulled a freaking knife out on you. Frightened because when you needed a helping hand all you got was a scolding voice.

“We’re worried about you is all. You got attacked. A knife pulled out on you…” He lowered his voice hoping it’d help settle down the rage he saw in your eyes. It was weird. Different. He was used to such a sweetness about you. He’d never seen you angry. Upset sure. But this was something entirely different.

Your eyes bugged, “You think I don’t know that? That maybe I just need some alone time away from all of this?” You didn’t hate being a greaser, no. That would never be the case. You loved your life with your brothers. You were just so damn tired of always being alert these days. Being a girl put you in a weird position with the greasers. The Soc’s never laid hands on you until today. It was startling. You’d always heard how dangerous the life was but today laid it out in front of you how truly dangerous it could be if you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He put his hands up in defense, “You need to calm down, Y/N.” His eyes shifted from one of a confident gaze to one that filled with concern

You wanted to slap him across his pretty little face, “You saying that is definitely not going to calm me down!” You were beyond frustrated now. You didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted him to leave you alone.

His eyes downturned as he saw your frigid stance. You were, for the first time he had recalled in his life, angry. Like angry, angry. Like you looked like you wanted to rip his head off angry, “Hey, I’m sorry. But I need you to relax a little. Sit down for me?” You were struck by his apology. Dallas Winston saying he’s sorry? You thought you’d so sooner be struck by lightning than hear those words come out of his mouth. The rage in your body calmed at that.

With an icy glare you sat down on your bed. You weren’t sure why you were listening to him. You were angry with him. He yelled at you when you needed sympathy. He’d scared you when you were already terrified. You thought the world of him, but that world came crashing down oh so quickly. You knew of the Dally he had hidden so well from you. Pony, Soda, and Darry would tell you stories all the time of how menacing he was. How he was so fearless in the face of it all. How could you not love on the man?

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked after shutting your bedroom door behind him. He knew your brothers were listening in, but it at least gave the illusion of a private conversation. Not that it mattered. They’d get the damn conversation out of one of the two of you eventually anyway. There was no privacy with the greasers.

“I’m fine.” You snapped at him, clearly not fine.

He shook his head giving you that damn chuckle that meant he knew you were lying, “I’m going with you’re not. You wanna tell me what’s the matter?” He asked once more. Stubborn.

“I want you to go away. That’s what I want.” The word weren’t as harsh this time. More like a soft rumble.

He sighed, “Come on Curtis. It’s just me. I know you and I know you’re not okay or fine or whatever word you wanna use. You can talk to me. It’ll be okay.” He grabbed for your hand that was nervously clutching the edge of your mattress giving it a comforting squeeze when his fingers locked with yours.

You felt the words coming on before you could stop them and soon you were rambling, “I’m overwhelmed Dally! I’m scared. I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable walking down the damned street anymore! And none of you will leave me alone to think about it!” You fired back exasperated. The building rage inside your eyes quieted down at the admission. You were terrified of what happened next. Everybody was always on edge these days. Life went from easy to hard in what felt like a night after your parents had left.

He opened his arms up, “Alright, come on. Come here pretty girl.” It didn’t take him much effort to pull you right into his embrace. In another instance you’d probably have fought him, but you were terrified and exhausted and his warm embrace was everything you needed. He pulled you closer before resting his head on yours, “It’s okay to be scared.” He whispered knowing that your nosey as hell brothers were likely sticking their ears to your door.

You closed your eyes letting the scent of his cologne mixed with the long day wash over you. So much more refreshing than the scent that washed over you earlier. Dally was always your comfort. No matter how harsh a day or words that were spat you knew you could count on him. No matter how mean you were to him either, “You yelled at me.” You felt another wave of tears come on. God, you felt so pathetic in his arms crying about being yelled at. Some greaser you were.

“I know.” He sighed giving you another reassuring squeeze, “You scared me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just let out my frustration out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been there to protect you.” He sounded a bit angrier not that he was getting it off his chest.

You pulled your head back gaping at his with a confused expression, “Is Dallas Winston apologizing?”

He gave you that soft smirk that you’d come to love, “If you tell someone I did, I’ll deny it.” He brushed the stray tears away with his thumb, “I don’t like it when you cry.”

You laid your head back down on his chest, “Don’t make me cry then.” Quipping back, you knew that wasn’t entirely fair. He wasn’t the sole reason you were in tears. But he was the reason you were crying then.

He leaned down whispering in your ear, “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. You know I’m a fuck up. But I’ll try. I’ll always try for you.” There was no chance your brothers could hear him for you hardly could. Or maybe that was the rough pounding in your ears. He wanted it to stay between the two of you. He knew Darry would flip if he tried to make a pass at his sister. So, he’d keep his distance from you, for now. But he couldn’t promise to restrain himself if you made advances on him, he’d fold in an instant if you did.

“I believe you.” You fisted his shirt in your hands, grasping onto him. This certainly wasn’t what friends did. But it felt right to cling onto him. To mold into his touch and his embrace. Dally felt so incredibly meant for you the thought of not being with him hurt you.

He held onto you for just a bit longer before pulling back, “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ve got me. Your brothers. All those friends. You’ll be just fine.”

You gave him a quick nod brushing the fogginess out of your eyes, “Thank you Dally.”

“Always. Now come on, let’s go eat before Darry force feeds you.” He stood, unwrapping himself from you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Darry would, wouldn’t he?” You smiled taking his hand in yours happily.

He gave you that look, “Let’s not find out.” Before pulling you out the door. To nobody’s surprise were all three Curtis brothers not even subtly eavesdropping in on the conversation right outside your door.

“All of you. Unbelievable.” Your laugh let them know they’d called just the right person to brighten your spirits. Darry knew it was only a matter of time before you realized that he was your person. The thought terrified him. The older you got the closer the two of you grew. But time and time again Dallas had shown Darry just how much he loved you too. His actions and his words showed just how much he actually did care for you.

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[specialagentlokitty]

B99 x reader - slightly twisted

Hello. Can I please request the Brooklyn 99 team X reader? Reader works with them and is very kind and friendly with everyone, but occasionally they would say something that scares everyone (including Rosa) For example, everyone is trying to figure out how to get a suspect in interrogation to talk, and out of the blue (Y/N) says "give me 10 minutes with a car battery, I'll make him talk". - Anon💜

Standing in the conference room, you weren’t really paying much attention to what was going on, but you did slightly pay attention to Rosa and Jake trying to figure out how to get their suspect to talk.

“You’ve already tried annoying him, it didn’t work idiot.” Rosa snapped.

“Well you threatening him didn’t work either!” Jake huffed.

You flicked through your paper work.

“Give me ten minutes with a car battery, I’ll make him talk.”

Rosa and Jake snapped their heads towards you, and you looked at them, giving them the sweetest smile they had ever seen.

Gathering your papers, you happily walked outside and they shared a look.

“They’re twisted…” Jake mumbled.

“Seriously twisted…” Rosa agreed.

You had a quiet personality, but you were ever so sweet, always smiling and willing to do anything to help.

But out of the blue, you would so something so disturbing or terrifying, it put everybody in the precinct on edge.

It wasn’t often you did it, but you always did it at the most unexpected times.

For the next hour you sat at your desk, the you got up to make coffee, walking into the break room where everybody else was sat.

You stared intensely at the coffee pot.

“What’re you doing?” Charles asked.

“Thinking.”

“About what?” He asked.

Everybody shouted at him, and you began to calmly pour your coffee.

“Nobody knows when they’re going to die, unless they’re murdered. Then there is one person who knew the exact time you died at, you wouldn’t even know that you’re dead, you would just be dead. We could all be dead right now.”

You sipped at your coffee, setting your cup on the table you walked to your fridge to get your lunch.

You pulled out two boxes and handed one to Jake before sitting down.

“I want you to speak to a psychiatrist.” Holt said.

You looked at him, tilting your head a little.

“Why?”

“You are very disturbed.”

“He’s right, some of the stuff you say is horrifying.” Terry nodded.

You looked the them all.

“You even scare Rosa.”

You turned to Rosa, and she shrugged a little bit.

“I thought I was disturbed.” She said.

You shrugged a bit, going back to eating your lunch, sharing some of your food for Scully and Hitchcock who were lingering nearby.

You sat inside your own head again.

“I want a burger.” You said.

“Go get one.” Amy said.

“Oh! Let us come!” Scully begged.

You agreed, walking with them to get a burger from around the corner before walking back.

Everybody was standing in the bullpen near the vulture as he tried to take the next case from someone.

“It was funny!” He laughed.

“It was a hearse! Don’t you have any respect?!” Amy snapped.

The man shrugged a little and you sat on your desk to watch them.

“What did he do?”

“I happened to laugh as a hearse went buy holding the victim, it doesn’t mean I don’t sympathise. I just don’t care.”

You took a bite of your burger and stared at the man, and the other looked at you.

“You shouldn’t laugh at something like that.”

“Oh I don’t want your philosophy lecture just give me the damn case.”

You looked back at your food, slapping Jakes hand as he tired to snatch it from you.

“One day you’ll day, and you’ll be in a hearse. You could die tomorrow, and you’ll be thrown in a hole and left to rot, bones turning to dust and bugs calling your body home.”

The whole floor went quiet.

“We all go to the same place when we die, in the ground to be worm food, so I don’t see why you act like you’re better, you’re not. You’re just another walking sack of worm feast.”

The vulture made a gagging noise, and he stepped away from you.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” He asked.

You looked up at him.

Your smile turned into a sickening grin as your stared into his eyes.

“I like scaring people.”

“That’s not hot. I’m gone.”

He quickly left and you went back to eating.

“Disturbing but useful apparently.” Rosa said.

They all looked at you and shuddered a little bit as you began to hum a twisted song under your breath.

You were the most lethal member of the squad, you didn’t need guns to bring someone down, no.

You just needed to talk, and that would be enough to make anyone confess or turn themselves in, just to escape the pure twisted truth that you generally talked about.

You had no filter, no thought process, and an unlimited supply of strange and twisted information

[echo-bleu]

shine still brighter (1/?)

On AO3. Deaf!Artanis bullet-point fic.

Here is yet another fic that I started thinking it would be 2k tops (I have almost 5k and haven't even started the main plot). It started as a mix of this art prompt I did, and a post I can't find now that went something like "it's a good thing that Galadriel hated Fëanor's gut, because if they had pooled resources they would totally have taken over the world." And I wanted to write Fëanor being a passionate linguist. The AO3 link has a Quenya name primer if you're confused.

(cw for mentions of difficult birth and post-partum, and mentions of ableism)

Artanis is born in pain and fear.

Her spirit is nearly as bright as Fëanáro’s. She’ll grow as strong and smart and stubborn as her half-uncle, but her birth also takes almost as much of her mother’s vital energy.

Eärwen doesn’t die. But she doesn’t recover very well, either. She’s very, very tired, too tired to really connect to her daughter for a long while.

Everyone is comparing it to Míriel and Fëanáro, and nobody is happy about that, Fëanáro least of all. Eärwen isn’t anything like Míriel. She shouldn’t get to have the spotlight like that.

Finwë is understandably focused on taking care of his youngest son and granddaughter for a while, which just makes it worse.

Arafinwë is very scared for Eärwen and overprotective of Artanis. Her brothers are already enamoured of her but also a little traumatized by the whole thing.

The baby is very cute and very awake, grabbing everything within reach in her tiny hands and pulling. Especially if it’s bright or moving.

Because of all the complications and worry over Eärwen, no one realizes that there’s something distinctly different about her.

Finwë is the one who sees it first.

Mostly because everyone else is dazzled by the strength of her fëa, but Finwë raised Fëanáro and he knows how to look past that.

Artanis has many of the same traits as Fëanáro that everyone worried about when he was a baby: she won’t look people in the eye, she sometimes screams when they pick her up, and sometimes screams even louder when they put her down (and her screams are the loudest since Makalaurë). She’s extremely picky about eating, and it doesn’t help that her mother doesn’t have the energy to feed her.

Those are all fine, Finwë knows how to handle that. Half of Fëanáro’s sons were and are like that too, and his other granddaughter.

No, the thing he notices is that singing entirely fails at settling her.

Fëanáro had a hard time falling asleep, but he would always settle with his favourite lullabies.

Artanis doesn’t even seem to hear them.

Actually, Artanis doesn’t seem to hear. Anything.

By that point she’s old enough that she should be starting to speak, but the only sounds she produces are wordless screams and laughter.

No music at all. Even the most tone-deaf of elflings know how to carry a tune before they learn how to speak.

Deafness is pretty much unheard of for the Calaquendi. There are some hard-of-hearing elves, but they mostly get on fine with speaking louder.

(The Moriquendi have Deaf elves. There have always been Deaf elves, but there’s something about Valinor’s perfection… Well, it’s partly that there haven’t been that many births in Valinor yet, and most of the disabled elves didn’t make it to Valinor for various reasons, from dying on the way to being scared that they weren’t welcome (the Valar were maybe not as clear as they should have been and some things got lost in translation). And some of that misunderstanding carried over into elves taking babies who are a little too different in Lórien to be “healed”. They’re never heard of again. So the number of visibly disabled elves in Tirion is very small.)

(Estë and Irmo take great care of the disabled elves and they find their own community together, but they don’t quite understand why the Calaquendi just leave babies on their doorstep. Some of them need medical care, yes, but many don’t.)

(Fëanáro would probably have ended up in Lórien if he hadn’t been the Crown Prince. And he knows it. The one time someone suggested that some of his sons might benefit from Estë’s help, he threw a fit so violent that no one ever spoke of it again.)

Survivor’s bias (the elves who made it through the Great Journey were the strongest one, and thus we, as a people, are strong and cannot be anything else) led to a good deal of ableism. Finwë has rather vague memories of disabled elves he knew growing up, but mostly as “they weren’t strong enough to make it”.

He’s already certain that Artanis, like Fëanáro, is absolutely strong enough to make it through anything. Also Míriel’s death after she made it with him through the Great Journey rather skewed his own perspective on that.

All this to say that he has some cognitive dissonance there, but his reaction to discovering Artanis’s deafness is more of less the same as his reaction to Fëanáro’s autism:

“Hey, Arafinwë, so your daughter can’t hear, but the good news is that she’s really smart and strong and also a princess, so all we have to do is teach her to be great at everything so people won’t notice.”

Arafinwë, blinking: “What.”

He’s not at all sure about this, but he’s also very much in over his head wrangling four kids on his own and caring for his ailing wife (Maitimo babysits when he can, and Findaráto is old enough to take care of himself most of the time, but it’s still a lot).

He agrees wholeheartedly that he won’t take his daughter to Lórien, because he’s very much not over being terrified of having to visit his wife’s body there and he’s not losing his daughter.

But it’s also a lot to take in and he doesn’t know what the right decision is for Artanis.

He’s also not entirely certain that trusting his father with it is the best idea.

Eärwen is not really well enough to help, and Olwë is definitely not helping by making remarks about Artanis’s strangeness every time he sees her, and maybe it would do her good to seek out help, and also Arafinwë should move their whole family to Alqualondë, can’t you see how much good it would do to Eärwen?

Ñolofinwë has enough work trying to wrangle his absolute terror of a daughter, who is barely more than a toddler and has taken a liking to Tyelkormo of all people.

Fëanáro won’t talk to him. Not that Arafinwë values his opinion. He’s not Ñolo, forever chasing after their half-brother who hates them. He’s not.

Findis thinks he should take Artanis straight to Lórien because a baby taking so much energy from its mother is not natural, and just look at how Fëanáro turned out, is that what you want your daughter to be like? (Arafinwë thinks that it’s unfair. Fëanáro’s a little intense, sure, and his dislike is hard to bear, but he’s not that bad.)

Lalwen really hates babies.

He is not close to his sisters-in-law.

As the youngest son of the King, he doesn’t really have close friends.

Maitimo is incredibly good with Artanis, but he’s barely an adult, he definitely can’t help with this.

Findaráto unconditionally adores his sister and is very distressed about it all.

“But Atar, why does it matter if she can’t hear? She’s perfect as she is!”

“How are we going to communicate with her, though?”

Findaráto takes his hand and leads him to little Artanis, who is playing with blocks on the floor.

“Hey,” he tells her, sitting down across from her. “Are you hungry?” Saying that, he pats his belly, and then mimics eating with his fingers.

Artanis claps her hands and nods, squealing. She puts her fingers in her mouth, twice, and then holds up her arms to be picked up.

“See?” Findaráto says, turning back to his father. “It’s easy.”

These words stay with Arafinwë. Artanis doesn’t go to Lórien, Eärwen recovers little by little, and it is, indeed, easy enough to find out when Artanis is hungry or sleepy or wants something with simple signs.

Osanwë with little children doesn’t really work past sharing basic emotions, it’s not really communicative.

Finwë valiantly tries to get her to speak. Arafinwë isn’t actually sure if she can’t or if she just won’t.

He feels like trying to speak when you can’t hear yourself, and you don’t even know what words sound like, is probably very hard work. Playing with blocks in understandably a lot more fun.

Findaráto is Artanis’s favourite person by far, and they’ve become good at communicating without words, though no one else can understand them when they do. They’re using a mix of basic hand signs and facial expressions. She follows him everywhere, and he lets her ride on his back when she’s tired.

Maitimo, who has five brothers and a father who regularly have silent days (Makalaurë has never had a silent day in his life), is also very good at figuring out what she wants and needs, though they don’t really communicate beyond that.

But Artanis is growing up, and increasingly frustrated at not being able to communicate her thoughts. Her system with Findaráto is good for simple things, but she’s having complex thoughts now.

She’s also old enough to know that she’s different, and to know that everyone else is talking over her.

She’s not going to take that affront lying down.

She turns into a terror.

Not an Írissë-style terror, running away and climbing trees and biting people. No, she’s an Artanis terror. A very focused terror.

She rejects anybody who doesn’t understand her. And since she has no real mean of expressing herself in an understandable way, that’s everybody.

She’s figured out that screaming very loudly in someone’s ear is a good way of getting them to go away.

The Arafinwëans start wearing earplugs while at home.

It gives them a new appreciation of Artanis’s plight, when they try to speak to each other over her screams and can’t understand anything, but it’s also very tiring.

Artanis, in her child’s logic, rejects Findaráto the strongest. Because he’s the one who makes the most effort and he still can’t solve this for her and it’s so unfair.

Findaráto takes it very hard and is depressed for two years straight. He’s been so focused on Artanis that he never really reckoned with the trauma of his mother almost dying and his sister nearly being given to Estë, so it suddenly hits him and now Arafinwë has two children to worry about.

Angaráto and Aikanáro take to spending a strange amount of time with Carnistir and Arafinwë doesn’t like much the sounds of Maitimo’s reports on his sons’ behaviour. But he doesn’t really have the bandwidth to deal with it.

Eventually Arafinwë has had enough. Everyone is trying to give him advice and absolutely none of it is useful. People in Tirion are whispering about Artanis’s behaviour, and what it says about her parents.

(Fëanáro, for all his intensity, was actually a very quiet child, and his eccentricities were dismissed as a result of his motherlessness. Finwë’s capabilities were never put to doubt.)

He only wants the best for Artanis, it’s just that he can’t figure out what that is. His daughter is hurting and it tears him apart.

(Eärwen agrees with him, but she’s gone to stay at her parents’ for a while because all the screaming and stress were making her relapse.)

What he knows is that a) the problem is mostly communication and b) what has worked the best so far was Findaráto using gestures.

What they need is some way to make the gestures more complex.

They need a language made out of gestures.

Who do we know who’s into linguistics and invented their entire writing system?

Arafinwë takes his courage in both hands, fully anticipating a disaster, and goes to talk to Fëanáro.

“You want me to invent an entire language of gestures for your daughter,” Fëanáro blinks.

“Yes. And then I want you to teach it to me.”

“...do you have any idea how much work that would be?”

“Probably not, but I know you’re the only one who can do it.”

He expects Fëanáro to say he’s too busy to do anything for people who aren’t even really his family, or to go on a rant about Arafinwë’s thoughtlessness or his entitlement or something.

Instead, all he says is, “Come back in three weeks. And bring her along.”

Stay tuned for part 2!

All of my Disabled Tolkien Characters posts.

[blurbios]

Being Dabi’s Doting S/O (Part 2)

cw: none

other: gn! reader, fluff

follow up to this

As odd as it still felt when Dabi thought about it, he had gotten used to you caring for him. The mission Shigaraki had sent him on was a long and tedious one, no intense fighting, but tiring nonetheless. He was absolutely exhausted, the only thing that kept him going was the thought of seeing you light up when he walked through the door. Nobody told you that Dabi was coming home that night, so you were sitting in bed, typing out an essay for some random college kid that commissioned you. You started writing papers as a side hustle after having met the league so that you could help keep the lights on in the place. You were nearly finished when you heard the doorknob turning. “Ah, you’re home! Nobody told me, I’m sorry. Should I run you a bath? Did you eat?” You rambled on and on as he walked closer to you, visibly fatigued. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, you quickly moved the laptop from your lap, careful not to delete your hard work. 

“I missed you.” He looked up at you, his head now resting on your thighs.

“I missed you too Dabi, I’m glad you’re back.” You ran your fingers through his messy hair. “How bad was it? Because I’ll fight Shiggy, I don’t care.” You hated seeing him look so drained.

“You don’t have to do that, it wasn’t bad. It just took too long, don’t worry.” He laughed a bit at the thought of you actually confronting Tomura. 

“I always worry, you know that.” You smiled down at him, taking a second to take in what was happening. Not one sarcastic remark, not one hand swat, he was nothing but genuine. He brought your free hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on each individual digit, you could feel the smile on his lips as he did so.

“I love you, y/n.” he said looking up at you admiring your features. He still had a hard time saying it, but he couldn’t believe that you were his. 

“I thought I was supposed to be the mushy one.” You joked. 

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me too much.” He retorted like normal. He sat up and turned toward you, taking your hands in his. “Sometimes I think you’re too good for me.” You raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the sudden sincerity. “You’re so caring and kind, you shouldn’t be around people in the league, people like me.” His eyes dropped as he felt a bit ashamed. 

“If you really think all those things, you have to tell me what I can do to make those thoughts fade.” You removed your hands from his grasp and placed them on either side of his face. “I love you, Dabi. I want you to realize that you deserve good things too.” You inched closer to his face, so he had to look at you. “I mean it, I love you, more than anything.” He leaned forward to press his lips gently to yours. You both felt heat growing in your cheeks. You felt the familiar sensation of butterflies in your stomach, the same feeling as when you had first confessed to him. He leaned all his weight on you causing you to lay down. You wrapped your arms around him as he laid on top of you. 

“Maybe I am rubbing off on you too much.” You laughed. It was nice having the tables turned, him clinging to you instead of the norm. 

“I’m so lucky to have you.” He spoke lightly into your hair as he nuzzled closer. 

“And I’m even luckier.” You placed a soft kiss on his temple. You felt so lucky that he felt comfortable with you, comfortable enough to seek you out and rest his whole weight on you, comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you, and comfortable enough to show that he loves you. You were used to him doing little things, silent gestures of love, but this was new and it made you feel treasured. After all, you were his treasure, the treasure that he was lucky enough to stumble upon, and the treasure that he would never ever let go of.

a/n: i dont think every league member is gonna get a part two, but this popped in my head and i knew i had to do it. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh thank y’all for enjoying these lil stories i write btw makes me happy xx

[paopaupaus]

part 6 of The Buddie Development by moi ->

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

S2:E17 Careful What You Wish For

This is the part where we get more into the development and less into the Buddie, but i’m willing to jot down anything that seems relevant, just for you 😚 Eddie is happy, Shannon (Chris’s mom) is being present, Christopher is happy, they are having a good day at the beach, but when inevitably Shannon asks “what are we?” Eddie gets doubts, he is indecisive about making the relationship that he “always wanted” and what seems easy, official.

Eddie is working on his marriage, and asks Buck if he has to remarry since they were separated, but Buck tells him it’d be better if he asks Bobby since he’s the one who knows about that stuff.

At this point, i don’t think either of them realize they have a man-crush on each other. Wanting to kiss you friend against a wall isn’t fruity, right? we’re just really good friends 🥰

S2:E18 Life As We Choose

This is one of my least favorite episodes cause Buck gets crushed by the firetruck :”( i couldn’t help but notce that Eddie went in the ambulance ride with him, even though the paramedics (Hen and Chim) were already there and he didn’t have any need to be there. remember only one official family member is allowed to go in the ambulance, Bobby stayed behind, but not Eddie. do you think he held Buck’s hand? 😫✋

~days later~ When they’re at the station the team welcomes Bobby (after he almost got fired), and Hen says “things are finally getting back to the way they should be” and trust Eddie to look sad and say “almost” ☹️😔

When Maddie is going to take Buck to Eddie’s ceremony for finishing his probation period she says that he shouldn’t go because he should focus on his health, but Buck is keen on going and says that it is more important. and i think it’s such a cute moment when they are about to hug and they have to work around the crutches, doing like a little awkward dance.

S3:E1 Kids Today

5 months have passed and Buck is just about to get re-certified to be a firefighter, but he throws multiple clots and can’t come back, here comes the hard stuff 😭😤

When Buck refuses to get out of bed and out of his loft for weeks, Eddie (obviously) is the one who goes and forces him out. He knows how to work Buck, so he leaves Christpoher to be looked after for the day, Eddie to Chris: “he’s hanging out with HIS Buck todaaayy!” grinning so wide.

And not Buck working out his issues career wise with Chris😭 he’s such a child you guys.

S3:E2-3 Sink or Swim/The Searchers

hi guys. um… i can’t see through my tears. i have to warn you if you plan on watching season 3 be ready for the tsunami episodes, i haven’t stop crying pls send help. i don’t even know how to explain this but the way that Buck would do AND DID everything and more for Chris is just beyond words, it’s beyond Love. i can’t think of an episode that expresses what Eddie and Chris and Buck have for eachother more than this one. i saw a gif of when Eddie grabs Buck’s shoulder (after the tsunami, back in Buck’s loft, the next day probably) and OP said “if anyone worked that hard to keep eye contact with me i would have to marry them” Eddie phisically follows Bucks line of sight and reassures him that he trusts him more than anyone with his kid/life. 😭

now that the tears have dried and i rewatched the scene i can say that they are so funny together.

Buck: you want Me? to watch Christopher?

Eddie: it’s easy. he’s not very fast.

😭🏃‍♂️

Buck: i lost him eddie

Eddie: no you saved him. that’s how he remembers it. Now it’s his turn to do the same for you.

Eddie: *reassuring Buck* I’ve failed him more times than i can count, and i’m his father, but i love him enough to keep trying and i know you do too, Buck. there’s nobody in this world who i trust with my son more than you.

I’m in love with these two idiots. i had never connected so much with fictional characters, and it is not just them but the whole cast in 911, they are doing and amazing job 🫶 so that is it for this post, hope you like it, and comment your opinions so we can talk!

[ziracona]

I finally got the intro to arc 2 done. Hope you have fun with it! As always, Tumblr gets the update first but before the final editing pass--a little glass half full, glass half empty ^.^' Enjoy: [Fate/GO AU – The Kid (pt: 1, … 22,23, 24, 25, 26, ?)]{Some spoilers for original Grand Order run/through Temple of Time, vaguer situational spoilers for later arcs}

.

.

“Roman?”

“Mmmmmhmmmph,” I groan unhappily, unhappy to have heard anything. I shift a little, trying to stay unconscious, because it’s better in here.

“Sorry, but you gotta wake up sometime soon. We’ve got like 100 people with guns who aren’t super happy about the 200 new people we just dropped on them without guns,” comes a woman’s voice, “You and I can take a real rest when we’re dead. Or when nobody’s looking. Which I wish was right now, but.”

I hear her, unfortunately, and I’m awake enough to know what the words mean, so I sigh, then scrunch up my face and drag my eyes open. I do not expect to find the blurry face of Da Vinci looking right down at me from above.

“…Da Vinci?” I double-check, squinting up at her. Yeah. I’m pretty sure it is.

“Oh wow, you actually woke up,” she says, patting my shoulder sympathetically, “I know you’re beat to hell, but, I’d love it if you cared to confirm what happened.”

“…Where is everyone else?” I ask, blinking and trying to shake off the lingering weight in my head. I feel sort of terrible, and sort of peaceful, somehow at the same time. It’s bizarre. Right. I shouldn’t feel peaceful at all right? Because there’s a lot of people to explain things to, who are upset and worried. And then there’s the whole situation to…to try and fix…

I look back up at Da Vinci, since she hasn’t answered me. My vision is starting to clear, and now that I can see her face, I realize she looks…sad. No, sad and happy. Nostalgic? Homesick? She’s looking at me like I have seen David look at me a few times now, when he thinks I’m not paying attention. Like it’s painful, in a way that is deeply good.

I…feel guilty, that I don’t know her. For all I know, she could be lying about knowing me, I guess, and I’m not a naïve person, but, I don’t think she is. And it makes me sorry.

There’s a little crackle in my head then, which I feel an instinct to panic at, because, you know, how could that be a good sound for the inside of a head? But then I hear her thoughts slipping through the space between us:

“I missed this. How can I be so sad? How can I miss him so painfully, while talking to him, face to face? I feel like I’m watching a memory, but, I’m not. Not this time.”

My stomach drops as I realize I’m unintentionally getting her thoughts.

“He looks so like he always did. Tired and cheerful and steady. He was our rock, and I’m not really sure I ever thanked him for that. That wasn’t my job. My job was keeping us alive, and giving him a hard time. But still, someone should have said it. It wasn’t easy. I know, because once he died, I had to be him. Dying the best you can for the people around you, and asking those kids who are like your own by now to live, and live happy, with the weight of the world on their shoulders? Is even worse.”

It ends then as soon as it began, with another crackle in my head like static, and I know I did not make that happen, but I still feel deeply wrong. I know whatever caused it, it wasn’t her either, and it was an intrusion; I wasn’t meant to hear it. I wish I’d been awake enough to think of a way to stop it.

I…I should be thinking about how to play this, or that this is confirmation then, that I am certainly going to die, because that’s important, but then, I’ve known that all along, right? And it’s not what I’m thinking. I’m thinking: “Wow. After everything, you have someone who misses you this much.” I should feel anything but reassured, but it’s all I feel. Peace. Or…gratefulness. I guess if only one of us two being able to remember it all, in the end, was enough for me then, then only one of us remembering at the start, here, is good enough for me, too.

Okay focus. She’s still staring into space. Maybe you can…

“Da Vinci…?” I ask, deciding to act like nothing just happened and hope she doesn’t know, “Did something happen? You look worried?”

“Not really,” she sighs, refocusing her mask with precision and speed, and putting on a smile while making a grand little shrug, “But you sure left us a situation. You try explaining the shit we just pulled to a room of angry mages sometime, and see how you like it.”

“Did anyone-?!” I ask with sudden fear.

“—Nobody got hurt,” she chides, “You think I wouldn’t have mentioned that? Your staff heard what you said before you passed out. We’ve got a bunch of confused civilians, which aren’t a threat, and a Holy Grail War’s worth of heroic spirits, which are, but are too much of one for them to want to start something. If they wanted to try to shoot us, they’d be doomed. And we have no reason to want to shoot them either. So no one did anything. It’s just been extremely uncomfortable.”

“Where am I?” I ask, blinking at the ceiling above me, and turning my head to try and see the room, and somehow only then realizing I’m using her lap as a pillow. Shit. I try to shoot up immediately, but she snags me and drags me back down. “-H-Hey!”

“Easy!” comes Makeda’s voice, from somewhere.

HUH?

“Hold still if you would? We’re sort of in the middle of something,” she says apologetically, and I see her as she steps into my field of view.

That’s reassuring, I think with intense distrust. “The middle of what?”

“Welllll,” says Da Vinci awkwardly, “Heh heh. Uh.” She gestures to the ground, and I turn my head from my prone position and see intensely complex sigil work on the ground. Makeda is holding a brush and ink, and seems to have been in the middle of adding more.

“What the hell are you two doing?” I reiterate, because this has absolutely cleared nothing up.

“We’re doing a spell,” says Makeda, “A divination. There’s a lot of strange stuff going on—I expect with you too, after the way you passed out. I’m happy to explain all of it, but a lot of it seems to be connected to you, so we’re using you as the focal point. I need you to more or less stay still. You can move your arms, and head, if you want!” she adds like it will cheer me up.

“We uh, thought you’d be unconscious longer,” says Da Vinci apologetically.

“It won’t hurt you,” promises Makeda.

I sigh. I know, I realize as I think it, and wonder why I was so concerned in the first place. I guess it’s that as out of control as all of this is, I want as many fragments of control as I can get, just to hang onto. Okay, Romani. Deep breaths. Calm down, and focus.

“Alright, go ahead. But please, do explain,” I add, unhappily accepting my fate. Couldn’t they have just gotten me a blanket and pillow or something?

Da Vinci sympathetically reaches down and rubs my shoulders absently, which in other circumstances sould be incredibly weird, but given…everything. I just really don’t care. I sigh again and accept it.

At least it feels good, and I feel like I’ve been thrown down a flight of steps.

You could have picked a better bench, though, I think just a little bitterly. I have no idea what conference room we’re in right now, because they all look the same, but the padding is too firm for a nap to be ideal. I’m going to be so sore after this… I guess at least Da Vinci’s contribution might save my neck.

“Well, you passed out, and we got to talking,” says Makeda as she goes back to finishing the edges of her sigil circle, I’m pretty sure massively sugar-coating the situation after I passed out, “And it was very easy to pick up that Chaldea wasn’t on the same timeline as us—that is to say—in the common sense. It’s our metaphysical timeline, obviously, but they seem to be a full two months ahead of the rest of the world.”

“So, for them, three days ago was the turn of the year,” says Da Vinci.

“Right.” I knew that part, and I guess Da Vinci can see it on my face, because she nods.

“I thought so,” says Da Vinci, pleased, “Just to cement a few things, can you confirm what happened when you exited the shadow border?”

Sure. Why not. “I got hit with a second set of memories,” I reply, “Both felt equally real, which was very disorienting, because they contradicted. The influx of that much detailed, emotional, and complex information all at once, overloaded my already very tired brain, and I passed out for…?”

“Two and a half hours,” says Makeda, glancing over.

“-Two and a half hours,” I finish.

“And this new set of memories?” prods Da Vinci.

I shrug the best I can on my back with my head in her lap. “About what I think you already expect. It was of being here, when Chaldea went through the turn of the year. I survived a bombing that took out most of the base, and the betrayal of a staff member. Ritsuka Fujimaru’s brother, Akira, and Mash both survived the bombing miraculously, by being rayshifted out. Our director ended up with them—Olga Marie Animusphere. We—the surviving staff—were able to fix enough equipment to contact them and try to help. They’d been transported to one point of history targeted by Goetia, Fuyuki city, during a holy grail war. A servant who’d lost his master helped them, thankfully—uh—an alter, of our Lancer, Cu Chulainn—oddly. They were able to succeed, and repair the broken point in time, just barely. The traitor to our organization, Lev Lainur, attacked our director, and took her out of commission, indefinitely. Then was killed. It was terrible. They’re just kids, and they went through hell with no preparation. I couldn’t be more proud of what they accomplished, or feel more awful, that they had to do it at all.”

They’re quiet this time, both of them. I guess it was more than they thought I’d say.

Honestly, it still feels so real I could throw up, and like a bad dream. I feel even more guilty over that. I get this…free sense of dissociation, to help me cope, and I didn’t even have to be there to see it first hand. God. The poor kids. Ritsuka too. Ritsuka, Akira, Mash, all the civilians—even our heroic spirits, who are tanks among men have all been put through hell. We need a break. They need a break.

“I’m sorry,” says Da Vinci, stopping her shoulder rub to pat me on the shoulder, “That is about what we’d gathered, though.”

“It’s not your fault,” says my father, popping up from over the back of a nearby chair he’s apparently been sitting in, and I just about jump out of my skin.

“Were you there the whole time?!” I ask.

“Of course,” he says in disbelief, “Did you think I wouldn’t keep an eye on you?” He clicks his tongue at me and crosses his arms over the back of the chair to lean on it. “As I was saying, you did everything the best you could, and it sounds to me like it’s been enough. The Fujimarus were ecstatic to see each other, and he and Mash both had a lot to say about how you got everyone through this.”

I don’t know if I believe him, but I’m too exhausted to consider arguing with my dad right now. I guess I appreciate it either way.

“Where are the kids?” I ask as it occurs to me, and I accidentally start to sit up on impulse, and am very kindly pushed back into place by Da Vinci, “—Sorry.”

“They’re outside,” says Da Vinci, “It’s just Sheba, me, and David in here with you. The kids all wanted in, but we forced them to stay outside—both so we could do the spell, and just in case there was anything you wouldn’t be ready to tell them as soon as you woke up, with whatever was going on. We three already know all your secrets.”

“Thanks…I think,” I say, then double-take, “Wait—you know all my—?!”

“Yes. Obviously,” she replies proudly, “Remember? I knew you later. It’s all old news to me.”

I start to say something, but then I remember what I accidentally heard, and I don’t. She looks at me quizzically.

“…When did we meet, the first time?” I ask instead as something occurs to me.

She smiles a softer smile, pleased. “Oh. A few months from now. –Or, a few days, depending on the memory set.”

Ah. I smile back as it clicks. “You’re the first successful summon, aren’t you?”

“Clever boy,” she replies.

“And you chose to stay and help? And became the…’technical advisor’?” I ask.

She nods. “Most of the building was blown up. Why not give me a title? You were the only staff head left. Although, I guess by now you know that.”

“Yes,” I say, glancing away and fiddling absently with one of my gloves. Even if I wasn’t close to everyone here, and some of them were awful people, it’s so much death. And not everyone deserved it—not by a long, long shot. It’s…

“You really need to start watching your health better.”

I look up in surprise to see David shaking his head at me.

I give him something between a grimace and a smile. “If I had any choice in the matter, believe me.”

“Well, if you won’t do it yourself, I will,” he warns pleasantly.

Terrifying.

“You do remember both sets of memories fully, right?” asks Sheba. She seems to have finished her sigil, because she walks back over and kneels by the bench and holds out a hand for me. I take it, and feel her magical energy fill the room like a wave lapping at the beach: soft, gentle, but unstoppable in sheer mass and power if circumstances change. “We weren’t totally sure that after…”

“-Experiencing a temporal displacement overlap?” suggests Da Vinci.

“-It would be smooth,” continues Sheba, “That’s also part of why we wanted you to get a chance to talk to us first. Everyone out there is hoping you’re ‘their’ Romani, but, you’re ours regardless of what information you retained. We both knew you from before,” adds Sheba, gesturing to Da Vinci and herself with her free hand.

“-And any version of you is my ‘Romani Archaman,’” says David, playful inflection on my new name.

“We just couldn’t get rid of him,” explains Sheba tiredly.

Unsurprising. David is a force. “Well, everyone’s about to be relieved, I guess, because I have all of both,” I confirm. Hadn’t even occurred to me that people would be worried about that, but, of course they would be.

“I’m not surprised, but it’s still a relief to hear,” says Da Vinci, “By all accounts from the Chaldea staff, it’s January, and you’ve been here the whole time. Actually—you are on-camera, vanishing, the second the door to the Border opened. There’s a little ‘flicker’ and the you at your desk is gone. The you at the Border flickers twice, like an electromagnetic spike, and then the video is normal, but you’re a half foot to the left.”

“Fascinating,” I say, not sure exactly what that means, “I’d have thought it would be when we finished the zero sail, not opened the door. I wonder if it’s a temporal delay, or if there’s more weight triggered seeing yourself face to face when it comes to time fluctuation than I’d thought?”

“So, convergence set aside for the moment without enough information to pursue it, what’s the point of divergence?” asks Makeda, something in her tone suggesting this is a much more important question.

“Oh, uhm…” I scrunch up my brow, thinking it over, “…The…day I heard about Ur-Shanabi, I think.”

David looks very interested by this.

“It’s…strange. My memories since the Incineration are very strong in both versions, but…the time at Chaldea leading up to it is…foggy,” I continue, a little disturbed to find this as I go, “…I. I hadn’t noticed, until you asked, but…”

“It’s the same for the others,” says Makeda, “When we heard their accounts, we checked some of the readings from SHEBA-“ She pauses to give me a coy smile in recognition of the device being named for her, and I flush.

God, I used to have so much game. The only thing my second life is giving is anxiety.

“—and saw a lot of distortion. After being quizzed closely, everyone here we’ve been able to talk to, only remembers the time before what I’m assuming is the day a version of you heard about Ur-Shanabi, and the time since December 31st on. They have…ideas, and impressions—generalities—of the rest of the time. But, it’s more like it’s there to sustain the jump in time, than of enough material stability to be truly real.”

“That’s so bizarre,” I say, truly fascinated, and again starting to sit up on instinct so I can truly think. Both women pull me down this time. Right. “Sorry. So, the version of me who summoned you inside Unlimited Blade Works, that timeline, I do have concrete memories of the days since I heard about Ur-Shanabi. Which makes the second set the anomaly, I think.”

“I’m inclined to agree, to a point,” says Makeda.

“To a point?” I ask.

“In the other timeline, the one that’s mostly just since the end of the year, did you not go to Ur-Shanabi, or not hear of it?” asks Da Vinci, ignoring my question.

“I never heard of it,” I say, “Which…should be impossible. It’s not like I heard about it in the other in some passing comment.”

I do not love that. Or that they could guess so on their own. I don’t have a good feeling about this.

“Do you think someone meddled with your memory?” asks Sheba.

“…No,” I say, glancing down at her, “I…think someone meddled with time.”

“Yes,” agrees Da Vinci, “They absolutely did. But we weren’t sure if they did both.”

“Why though?” I ask, “Shit—wait! If Chaldea is past January first, then, we’re no longer somewhere we’re seeing the effects of Goetia’s actions before he’s taken them are we? So-”

“-No, we’re still ahead of schedule,” says Makeda calmingly, giving me a smile.

I can still feel her magical energy pulsing through me and the room slowly, in steady beats, like a heart at rest. It occurs to me to wonder finally what exactly she’s doing.

“That’s what we were able to use your SHEBA observational lens to discover. It’s the first—well, second, after making sure you really were alright—thing that we checked. It’s like this space, just the building, is in its own bubble,” adds Makeda.

“Couldn’t Goetia be in one too?” I ask dubiously.

“No,” says David happily. I look over at him. “She checked,” adds my father smugly, pointing to Makeda.

“Really?” I ask.

She nods gracefully, long hair cascading over her deep brown shoulders. It’s been so long, but I’ve never forgotten how smart or how beautiful she was.

“Thank you, Makeda,” I say softly.

“For you? Of course,” she replies.

“So, you’ve already found him then?” I ask as it occurs to me.

“Uhhhhm,” says Da Vinci, and she teeters a hand in a ‘kind of’ gesture.

Makeda sighs, looking worried. “It keeps…changing.”

“Every time we lock on, the coordinates shift,” says Da Vinci.

“He’s moving?” I ask in surprise.

“No. The coordinates shift as if they’ve always been something else. The log always reads completely changed, all two hours of it, in an instant—as if it’s performed one search function, and gotten the same answer. But what’s on the screen changes about every two seconds—it’s half real, half moving, and half make-believe,” says Makeda.

“That’s not…possible,” I say, thinking quickly. I’m missing something obvious, because I’m exhausted, and I can’t afford to.

“No, it’s not,” agrees Da Vinci, and I look up from where I’m still stuck on her lap, and see her watching me with those fixed, calculating clear eyes. I think about what I shouldn’t have heard her think, and for some insane reason, I feel desperate to live up to my own future reputation.

“…It’s not real yet,” I say. It was a question when I thought it, but it’s a statement as it exits my lips.

“That’s what we think,” agrees Makeda, closing her eyes, and I feel an intense increase in her magical output.

For few seconds, we are all quiet, waiting. I feel her familiar circuits where her hands hold mine, and I feel a sudden pause in the heartbeat-like pulse of her magical energy.

It’s like time has stopped.

The energy holds, but she opens her eyes, which glow like a breathing galaxy.

“I’ve got it,” she says in an inhuman voice, and then the tide of her energy ebbs back into her, soft and controlled like it filled the room, and she releases my hand.

“What’s the news?” asks Da Vinci excitedly, seeming to forget she’s holding my head, and bending over so far towards Makeda that her stomach is smashing me.

“Can I get up now?” comes my muffled voice.

“Yes,” says Makeda apologetically.

Da Vinci sits back and I drag myself up, still and sore, and lean against the bench seatback, rubbing my face, and trying to get sensation back in my limbs. Makeda climbs up beside us, on my other side, and, apparently feeling left out, David drags his chair closer, then climbs back in.

“We were right,” says Makeda, to both Da Vinci and me, “It’s a spell.”

“A…” That is cosmically not what I thought was going on, or said. I—I guess she means about Goetia’s location not being real yet.

“A spell…” says Da Vinci, who I personally think from her expression, also did not actually think that’s what was going on.

Weirdly, I look at David, and he, alone, seems unsurprised. What do you know, old man…

“Can you elaborate?” I ask.

“Well,” says Makeda, “We’re not a singularity, and we’re not a lostbelt.” A what? “We’re built a little like one or the other though. Or a wish.”

“Like a grail?” suggests Da Vinci rather dubiously.

“Only in vague concept,” says Makeda, then, reconsidering, “…But, in vague concept, not a bad analogy. The ways in which we are similar to a singularity or lostbelt is in nature—partially complete and partially real, still growing—not in function. Functionally, more like a grail. The same way holy grail rituals have set rules and functions, so do most rituals and big magic. And this is certainly a function of intricate structure.” She suddenly looks embarrassed to be explaining this, to me, I assume because of my rank.

“So, the timeline we’re on has been altered. In a very significant way, from its original. It’s not a naturally occurring alternate timeline, but an intentionally constructed one,” I say, then pause, to consider. “…Any guess as to by who?”

She looks at me for a long few seconds, and then says, “No,” but I can’t help but feel there’s more to it than that.

“Okay,” I say, not pressing her for the moment, and moving on to the question I don’t want to ask, but know I have to, “…Can you tell if this…aberration, is it dangerous, like a singularity? Is it…are we hurting the world, by existing?”

Makeda shakes her head.

Oh thank God.

“Whatever we are, we’re not convergent, or concurrent,” adds Makeda, “Even if we’re not an alternate timeline in the natural sense, whatever bubble we are, it’s its own in the same way one would be. It’s magic, but, it’s magic not growing or building in opposition to, well, anything. It’s…disconnected. In ways that are zero sum.”

“Alright,” I say, feeling a few worlds better, “Then. …Whoever, and whyever they started whatever this…spell is, if it’s still in construction—if the magic is still in process—that probably means we either need to dismantle it, which, if it’s not dangerous, I’d very much prefer not to do, since in this timeline we could save a whole lot of lives by reaching Goetia before he acts, and uh, well, I have to assume this version of all of us would probably die—or, we’ve got to finish it—the spell, I mean—get it to cement—so it doesn’t deviate, or unravel.”

“Exactly,” agrees Makeda, “I think that’s where we should start.”

“Great! A plan,” says David happily, “So, how much are we telling the others?”

I hold up a hand. “Before that—you said this is some sort of spell. You mean magic—not magecraft, but magic. Like, First Magic.”

“I do,” says Makeda, “It’s the only class of magic that could do something like this.”

“What do we know,” I ask, ‘we’ meaning ‘her’.

Makeda sighs and places her chin in her hand, bouncing a leg absently as she thinks it over. “This?” she decides after a moment, glancing over at the rest of us, “Doesn’t leave this room. Not until we’re sure it should.”

I nod, and see Da Vinci move in my periphery.

“Alright,” says Makeda, and she opens the little lamp she carries, and smoke billows out, forming distinct shapes in the air as she sways her fingers through it, like the shadow puppet show of a master.

“Da Vinci and I have matching knowledge of another timeline. That alone isn’t odd. But in it, we know of events and people spanning from before the Age of Gods,” A sprawling mountain and a cloud city appear, floating islands of smoke, desert kingdoms, "to the distant future.” Building shapes from countries around the globe and centuries apart, fell into a timeline. Frontiers, temples, castles, modern skyscrapers, and past them, massive space ships. “We, should be here.” She indicates a modern urban skyline in her set of smoke-made history. “And we are. Ritsuka should be, and she is. Akira wasn’t at Chaldea, but him being here isn’t really odd. You’re mostly where you should be. But some people, are missing.”

Here, she makes a handful of figures out of the curling whisps, and then passes her fingers through them and watches them go.

“What’s more,” she continues, “A lot more, is that there are a considerable amount of people who shouldn’t be in this time, who are.”

Makeda raises a hand to her lips and exhales like she is blowing a kiss. Smoke forms humanoid figures along far separated points on the timeline, and they lift from those places by floating cities and icy mountains and desert sands, and settle into the urban skyline.

“Actually, they shouldn’t be at all,” she says, eyes on something far away, no changes in her smoke story this time, “At least many of them, should never have existed. Yet, here they are.” She looks at me. “And not transported, and confused. Here they are like they’ve always been, with normal memories and normal lives, somehow, in spite of everything, alive.”

“People who should never be?” I ask, a sinking feeling in my chest.

“It will take a little while to explain to you fully, but for now, people who lived in versions of time that only existed at all by destroying the time around them, and whose broken time had to be corrected, that is, erased,” says Makeda softly.

I nod, and keep quiet. I can imagine, since I’d been a little afraid after waking up with two sets of memories, that I could be a version of me that shouldn’t exist.

“Our reality, it’s real,” says Makeda, refocusing, “But instead of starting at the beginning of time and moving forward, as time is meant to, it starts here.” She indicates a point not long before what she’s designated as ‘now.’ “And it grows forwards and backwards from there. No, grows isn’t the right word. It…’becomes set.’ Like a writer starting a book in the middle: the beginning happened, because otherwise the characters wouldn’t be who they are, or have memories of their upbringing, or loved ones they share a past with. But it’s not stable, until it’s on paper, because once the writer forgets, there will be nothing to hold it all in place.”

A terrifying metaphor, I think, but I don’t say it.

“Whatever, or whoever, caused this,” says Makeda, “it hasn’t stopped working. But it’s magic still in progress. At a guess, something has to be…done, or ‘finished’—fulfilled—for the ritual to be complete, and the timeline to stay. If it doesn’t, it’ll collapse back in on itself, and…”

“…And we all cease to exist,” I say shakily.

“Well,” she offers me a sympathetic smile, “This version of us.”

That’s great for the heroic spirits, I guess, but it really sucks for the rest of us. God, especially the ones she says ‘shouldn’t exist’ at all anymore. It’s…a heavy fate, that. Not to be taken lightly…

“And this point?” I ask, tapping the little swirl of smoke she’s left to indicate the start point. The smoke is surprisingly warm to the touch, and almost thick enough to feel soft to me.

Makeda watches me with her bright eyes full of their knowledge and sight. “You, Solomon.”

I am so taken aback I don’t know what to say.

“Me?” I check after a full ten, very suddenly awkward seconds.

“Don’t you mean ‘Romani’?” asks David, whom I’d completely forgotten was even in the room with us, and it makes me jump.

To my surprise though, when I look over, he’s not joking. He’s being pointed about the name.

“What,” he says, looking from one of us to the other, “That’s about when you would have been ‘reborn’ into a last life, right?”

He points and I look at the timeline again, and my breath catches in my throat.

“How many terrible things did I cause?” Wait, did I say that out loud?

“Not terrible,” says Da Vinci, patting my shoulder with one of her gloved hands, “So long as we can keep this thing going, it’s good.”

“Very, I would say,” agrees Makeda, and again, I see in her face that there’s something she knows she’s not telling me, and I’m sure she has her reasons, but it distresses me a lot not to know. This is beyond high stakes universe poker. This is all or nothing, eleventh hour Russian roulette shit.

“That’s not all,” adds Da Vinci, stretching, and looking very gleeful to have her own lore to share, “I ran some tests when you were out because something about Ur-Shanabi has been bothering me ever since the others told me about it.”

“And?” says David with interest.

“And,” says Da Vinci, looking annoyed to be interrupted, “There’s been a change in the world state. You know how in a holy grail war, the ritual is designed so when a heroic spirit dies, their energy is used to fill the grail—to power it, more or less.”

We give our various forms of assent.

“Well, it struck me really odd the Counter Force would let something like that go on so long without proper recourse, and it wasn’t apparently even Alaya that finally sent in the Counter Force Agent we’ve got—Ritsuka summoned him. But, when something like a grail war is on, the Counter Force tends to be less active. Rituals bring their own, shitty ass rules, and tend to be allowed more—some might even say inadvisable –catastrophic damage.”

“Yes,” agrees Makeda, “It’s about the way magic works. Even the universe itself, is bound by rules. That’s why the Counter Force has to use agents in the first place. Even power has limitations.”

“So, I looked into it,” continues Da Vinci, “And the way this thing works, the whole world is…sort of designed to soak power up, from everything, but especially from people.”

“That’s horrible,” I say, disturbed.

“Not really,” she disagrees, leaning forward and gesturing broadly, “See, it’s not like a leech. It’s designed to soak power out of people only when they’re trying to give power—like—it’s in a hyper-high-performance catalyst state. But it’s not forcing anything—people aren’t all slowly taking magic-radiation-damage or something. It’s just wildly amplifying and accelerating physics around energy and its transfer, when it comes to magic specifically. Heroic Spirits, though, we’re made of magical energy. And with the rules around magical energy, and the transformation and transfer of it altered—altered to make the change in form easier, not just when it’s offered from or created by humans, but in all forms. Well. ...”

“The physical structure of anything made of magical energy entirely has become a vulnerability,” I say, mental calculations locking into place, “The same way Achilles’ heel would be, or Samson’s hair.”

“Exactly,” says Da Vinci, way too happy about this.

“Well that’s genuinely terrifying,” I say.

She shrugs, a grin on her face. “At least we know what we’re up against. Half the battle.”

“I suppose so,” I agree a little uncertainly.

“Anyway, the other half of the issue may be that we’re not the only ones to have figured that out,” adds Da Vinci.

“Meaning who?” I ask, “I mean—obviously if Ur-Shanabi had it working, it was only a matter of time before someone else did too, but. The world is currently…well, incinerated. It seems like one problem takes care of the other, in the temporary anyway.”

“Well, you know how when she described what was happening with Goetia, you said ‘it’s not real yet’?” asks Da Vinci.

Makeda raises a hand and gestures to her smoke tapestry, and it begins to curl and dissipate, leaving a few floating ‘islands’ almost, as it were, along what was once a solid timeline. “Goetia’s attacks, when they come for real, target specific points in history, to de-stabilize and collapse the timeline. We know where, from our own memories, and the data we’ve been able to run with the effects already in place here. But the thing is…”

Slowly, almost delicately, Maketa weaves her fingers into the smoke, and then tugs like the is pulling it apart, and the image shifts from a 2D image, to a three-dimensional timeline, pieces splitting away in different direction. Of these, a select few’s smoke begins to shift into shades of pink, and I am sure this must be the ones Goetia has picked, because I recognized the 2004 Fuyuki a version of me has just vicariously experienced as one of them. Other pieces stay their original, almost purple shade of grey, and then a few more begin to turn a cyan blue. These, as Makeda makes a circular motion with her index finger, begin to rotate.

“They aren’t the only points reading as anomalies,” said Makeda, turning to look at me, “Da Vinci is till collecting data, and we expect it to take a while, but…”

“What we know for sure, is the Counter Force is—or at least was—active in all of them,” says Da Vinci, “But as far as we can tell, Goetia wasn’t.”

I look at the blue points on the map unhappily, and let out an exhale. “And…these all activated in the years between now, and 1985.”

Da Vinci gives me a sympathetic grimace.

“Well, think of it this way!” suggests David, “That certainly limits the damage, and narrows down the search area. Besides.”

He tries to reach way forward and tap Makeda’s smoke diagram, and his hand goes right through it, dissipating an image.

“Since what Ur-Shanabi did was considered ‘breakthrough research,’” he continues, totally nonplussed, “I would bet a lot of money that the points before the last couple years won’t have deeply significant change. If they had, someone in the mage world would have heard about it.”

Da Vinci and Makeda both look annoyed by this, but Da Vinci mutters, “…He’s probably right,” rather unhappily, and my father grins.

“See?” says David, reaching too far forward to try and pat me on the shoulder, and just having to latch onto it instead to not fall off the chair, “All good.”

“Well, that part is an overstatement, but, he’s right it’s not an immediate threat,” says Makeda, miffed, and she waves her hands and the smoke curls back inside the lamp she wears at her belt. “In the meantime, you should go talk to your staff and the others and let them know you’re alright.”

“Yeah,” agrees Da Vinci happily, swinging her feet in anticipation while she watches David very awkwardly make it back upright in his chair, “I’ll keep running calculations and try to get some kind of gameplan together. But we need more data before doing anything concrete.”

“I’ll help,” I say, honestly just relieved to have a little breathing room.

“You will NOT,” says my father sharply, “Not until you get some proper sleep! Look at you!” He gestures broadly with both arms. “You’re a wreck! You’ve been up for three days straight, and went comatose from memory bombardment for almost two hours! You’re exhausted! You transplanted a magic crest, onto yourself, then summoned two heroic spirits inside a reality marble, and stayed up for another forty hours!”

“I, uh,” I try awkwardly, taken aback.

David crosses his arms and eyes me. “You and Ritsuka are both going to take a rest. You act like you forget, son, but you’re only human now. The last thing anybody needs is you to work yourself to death. Or past usefulness.”

I wish he didn’t have a point, but I feel like death warmed over. Still… “I should be able to help though, and it’s-“

I was going to say ‘my fault in the first place,’ but all three turn to look at me as one with such a united front of deeply terrifying energy, like a pack of guard dogs just itching for the command sick ‘em to come,that I don’t.

“…I think David is right,” says Da Vinci, recovering her mask of pleasantness first, and smiling at me with her eyes shut. She pats me on the shoulder. “You can come help in the morning.”

“…Yes,” says Makeda simply, but the way she says it has an undercurrent of chilling.

I’m not getting out of this… “Alright, alright,” I say as I feel the pressure in the room begin to grow tense again, and I put my hands up, “I’ll rest. But, I do need to talk to staff first, at least a little, to explain things—and the kids.” God, poor Mash. She is so inclined to worry, too.

“That’s fine!” says Da Vinci, her same eyes-shut smile still on, “Just don’t stall too long.”

“Yes,” agrees David, hopping out of his chair and offering me a hand, “Let’s do that.”

I let him help me up, but the second he lets go, I almost lose my balance, with my legs so completely asleep, and me so dead-tired. The instant I do, David, Makeda, and Da Vinci all make a move at the same time to help me, and I can’t help but laugh, a deep, full body laugh, as I catch myself and then straighten up on my own, feeling a lot better now.

“It’s so funny,” I say, glancing from one to the other with a smile, “I’ve been the most isolated I think I’ve been my entire existence, for months, and now that things have really fallen apart, I’m surrounded.”

Da Vinci smiles back. “Good.”

I nod. “Good indeed.”

As I wait for my painfully asleep legs to get some feeling back in them, I survey the room for real for the first time. “Where are we right now, anyway? Which conference room is this?”

“It’s the one closest to the command room,” says Da Vinci.

I nod. Finally getting a little painful feeling back, I take a few steps towards the door, testing my balance. Ow.

As we begin to walk, my whole little horde of tag-alongs staying suspiciously within ‘he might fall again’ distance, David says, “Question, Miss Da Vinci. You seemed to know Ritsuka, from Chaldea, but it’s her brother here who’s done this Rayshift, which should be how you meet, or met her, in the future. And then you said it was odd for him to be the one in the Fuyuki singularity, but not very odd. So, was it both of them who helped you, originally?”

“No,” says Da Vinci, seeming surprised—by the question, or by it being from my father, I’m not sure, “I’ve never met the brother before, although I knew he existed.”

“Interesting,” says David.

Interesting indeed.

“Where are the kids?” I ask.

“Didn’t I tell you?” asks Da Vinci, “They’re outside.”

“W—You mean in the hall?” I ask, taken aback, “They’re not resting?” Ritsuka is dead on her feet, and Akira and Mash just returned from a rayshift like three hours before we arrived!

Da Vinci shrugs. “Like father like-” She stops and almost seems a little flustered, then just offers me an impish grin.

Weird, I think, since it’s really no secret I see Mash as a daughter, to anyone. I guess I probably deserve that though. …Damn it! WHY didn’t I do a better job at teaching her to prioritize her health? Stupid! Kids watch what you DO, not just what you say! Stupid stupid! Bad job, Romani! Bad job!!

“Okay, well, let’s fix that too,” I say, increasing speed towards the door. God knows we ask enough of them as it is. I hope they haven’t been too exhausted and miserable out there.

------------------------------------

“I just can’t believe you’re here!” says Akira, beaming at me, “I mean, what are the chances?!”

“I know!” I chirp. I’ve been grinning so hard the past few hours that it hurts my cheeks, but I’ll never stop! “And you?! Holy crap! The Last Master of Humanity??”

“No-no!” he corrects, his mouth full of the pb&j he’s been working, raising a hand and then pointing from me to him, “The Last Masters of Humanity.”

I laugh.

“Like, go Fujimaru twins, am I right?” he asks, mouth even fuller as he takes another bite.

I elbow him. “Don’t do that! Didn’t dad teach you manners? Not in front of a kouhai!”

He chokes on the pb&j and desperately grabs his milk bottle to help wash it down, then after a solid swallow, gives his friend an apologetic little, “Sorry Mash.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she replies hurriedly, flushing at us both, “I know you’re hungry and tired.”

“Well, you must be too, right?” I say, offering her a box of pocky.

Hesitantly, the purple haired girl just a year or so younger than me, takes the box and opens it, giving me a little smile.

Mash is neat. We’ve all only been talking for like, two hours or something—it can’t possibly have been that long since my group even arrived—but, I like her. Somehow, she feels like somebody I’ve known all my life. I guess she just must be that kind of person. And, it makes me happy. And relieved.

She’s timid, and quiet. Big eyes, soft voice, always watching the stuff around her like a baby deer taking in the world. But, from Akira’s stories I’ve been getting, she’s also like, super brave and dependable. And a ‘Demi-Servant,’ which, as far as I gather, is a heroic spirit kind of reverse-possessing someone, so instead of them getting the body, they let a normal living human use their power. Apparently, back when the building exploded, Mash got trapped under a fallen pillar, and my brother went and was going to die like a hero holding her hand while another bomb went off, so she wouldn’t be alone (a story she told me trying not to cry, and while staring firmly at the ground, while he turned the reddest I’ve ever seen him, and also looked so, so smug). But instead of either dying, they were saved by whoever is letting Mash use their heroic spirit power, and got rayshifted out.

Rayshifted, as far as I gather, is like teleporting and time travel. Okay, mechanically, it’s more like going to another plane in D&D, where you’ve got a thread connecting your body to a duplicate body, but if one dies the other is in big trouble—you know what—I don’t get all the science. Miss Da Vinci said you’re broken down into your spiritrons, and those are transported to other coordinates in time and space, and re-assembled. So, I wouldn’t know how to do it, but, I get what it does, which I think for me is the important half.

Anyway, when time got incinerated in the city, apparently it was because specific points in history were getting messed up, and my bro and Mash went and repaired one. So one ‘Singularity’ is now stabilized, and, if they fix them all, the world will come back.

So far, it’s been a crazy ride—I mean, his story might be even wilder than mine. And we’re both not even totally done telling the stories. We’ve really only covered bare-bones.

But anyway, to me, the important part is that he’s here and okay and alive, and that this can all be fixed. And, that I’m really glad Mash was here. Akira is brave, but we’ve always done stuff together. We’re strong because we were born with somebody to lean on—I think that’s part of why I’ve been able to do so well with these heroic spirits helping me, despite not being very good at magecraft: I literally came out of the womb as part of a team.

Akira’s the same. We’re strong when we have somebody to lean on, and to prop up, but not alone. And, while I wasn’t here, Mash has done that for him—really reliably!

Plus, I think, smiling as I watch her chomping on the pocky with more gusto than I’ve ever seen anybody else eat it, like a toddler trying ice cream the first time, I bet they’re good for each other. He’s got a lot of charisma and adaptability and he knows how to make you smile when it’s rough, so you can keep going. Mash sounds like she’d be there to be a voice of reason, and pull you up when you fall, but might need somebody who can make her feel like it’s okay for her to smile and talk more too. I bet they’re going to be great friends.

“I’m glad he was the first one you summoned,” says Akira, who has already forgotten what I just said, and gone back to talking with food in his mouth—indicating Billy with his head. “He smiles a lot.”

“He smiles a lot?” I echo.

“Yeah,” agrees Akira, giving me a grin, “You don’t have me there to crack jokes when you need them, so you need somebody else to remind you it could always have been worse, and it’s gonna get better.”

I snort, but then I think about it, and I smile. He’s not totally wrong, and even more than that, it’s reassuring. Twin-morphic-resonance. We were thinking the same thing.

------------------------------------

“How’re you doing, you sad bastard?” asks Lancer, sidling over to where I’m sitting slumped against a wall near the conference room, holding a bottle.

“I feel like I might do nothing but throw up for the next year,” I reply dryly, annoyed to have to pry my eyes open again at all. It just makes the headache worse.

“Well hey,” he says, sliding down against the wall next to me, and slapping me on the shoulder, “You got the world record now, for longest sustained reality marble. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Great. Put it on my tombstone,” I reply, shutting my eyes again and leaning my head back against the wall.

“Oh, get over yourself. You’re not even injured,” he replies in an annoyingly amicable way.

I sigh. “Why are you over here bothering me. What do you want?”

There’s a clink as he taps something glass—I have to assume the bottle—against the metal guard on the back of my hand.

Annoyed, I crack open an eye and glance over. He’s raising a large bottle of what up close I can tell is definitely alcohol of some kind.

“Come on,” he says, “Gotta push through.”

‘Push through’?! I think, irritated, I just sustained a reality marble for almost three days. I’ll kill you.

“Alcohol isn’t exactly going to make a headache better,” I reply dryly.

He snorts. “Not going to make it worse.”

Yes it will, stupid. “What do you care, anyway. Go bother someone else,” I reply.

He rolls his eyes and removes the glass cork, then takes a swig. He holds the bottle out to me.

I’m annoyed, but I’m too tired to keep arguing, and I want him to go away, so exhausted, I take it, and drink. I'm even more annoyed that it's actually pretty good.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, grinning at me.

Oh go fuck yourself, I think. “How’s the doctor?” I ask instead.

Lancer shrugs. “Seems fine now. Everyone who’s useful at that kind of magecraft is in the command room, trying to figure out how the hell this happened. Everyone else is supposed to rest up.”

Great, is there a bed somewhere then? That actually might help. “Anywhere better for that than here on the floor?” I ask.

When we arrived, after what was more of an awkward than dangerous standoff when the doctor fainted, we were more or less asked to stick around this general area, and it would have been more trouble than it was worth not to comply. Besides which, as tired as I and everyone else are, the civilians who are actual living humans have it worse, and some of them are injured. They were given access to a large conference room and as many pillows and spare blankets as the staff here seemed able to find. Us spirits, and the Fujimaru kids, stuck around near the command room to wait for the doctor to wake up.

“They’re working on it. We brought in almost two-hundred people,” says Lancer, a little more seriously, “And the facility was bombed not long ago, so a lot of their shit is under rubble right now.”

“Bombed?” I ask. News to me. But then, I missed a lot the last few hours. Basically as soon as I could tell there wasn’t going to be a fight, I went to collapse and rest somewhere, with as much dignity as I could, before my core knocked me out completely.

“Yeah. Right—You left,” says Lancer, cocking his head and thinking, “Some guy turned traitor, and took out a lot of the staff a couple days ago—to them, right at the turn of the year. They’ve been scrambling ever since.”

I nod, too tired to ask a lot more right now. “Anything pressing, for us?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. You can pass out.”

On the floor? I’m not sure I’m that desperate. Not with this group of people.

Lancer takes the bottle back and drinks, then passes it back to me. I give in and take another swig. Energy is energy, and it’s not bad. Even if it won’t help the headache. I guess I’m physically past caring about that.

“…It’s weird, isn’t it?”

I glance over at Lancer, waiting for him to elaborate. His tone has changed. It’s light, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness, study, almost. He’s not really looking at anything I can tell, though, just eyeing the empty hall.

Finally, he turns his face back towards me, and smiles, but I don’t believe the smile. I don’t really think I’m meant to. “It’s familiar.”

Is it?

I’m skeptical, but, as he says it, and I turn my own head to look over the nondescript, white-blue walls, it’s…

“There’s…a cafeteria. That way,” I say, not sure why, pointing to my left. “Two halls down.”

I haven’t walked that way at all.

Lancer nods. “There is.” We meet eyes, and we both understand something I almost wish we didn’t.

“…We’ve been here before,” I say. It’s not a question. “Together.”

He nods, very slowly.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“I…remembered,” says Lancer, thinking, and quieter than usual, “And I didn’t. ‘I’ haven’t been here. I’m sure ‘you’ haven’t either. But some version of us has. Because I remember, a Christmas with you.”

“…And…Robin?” I ask, perturbed by the sudden inkling. It’s not a visual memory. It’s like…information, like the throne fills in when we’re sent to a different area. Or the familiar emotion a smell brings, if you knew it well. “…No. David and Robin, but not you…” I add to myself, under my breath. The hell? Were all of us…?

But then, Da Vinci said that, didn’t she? That she knew all of us aside from Salieri.

“It’s our own future summons,” I suggest, “That we’re remembering.”

“But if it is,” says Lancer skeptically, “That would mean we’re all about to die. Then get re-summoned, and be remembering the re-summoning. We can’t remember the summon we’re on.”

He’s right. “That…seems a little far-fetched. But I don’t know what else it would be,” I say. Maybe I do.

“Parallel timeline?” suggests Lancer.

“Our memories, or, sense of them, is way too keen for that…unless, there’s a reason we’re being allowed this much,” I add, thinking.

He shrugs, seeming to completely relax again suddenly.

“What?” I ask.

He glances at me and smiles. “Ah, nothing. I could tell you remembered stuff too. Figured if we were about to die, we’d both have some kind of bad feeling. Or one of us would, at least. But neither of us does. If we aren’t about to die, the memory stuff is a problem for future us.”

The way you live your life, I think, smiling at the absurdity in spite of myself. He holds out the glass and I take it and drink. “Well, good luck to them then,” I say tiredly.

Lancer grins and holds up the bottle in toast. “To them. Probably gonna fuckin’ need it.”

------------------------------------

“So, that about bring everyone up to speed?” asks Da Vinci pleasantly.

The Chaldea staff around us trade looks, confused, but glad to have answers, even if they’re answers they don’t understand. The civilians who aren’t resting, and chose to attend, seem to be feeling an even stronger version of the same response. Something like ‘Oh thank God somebody has an idea.’ –I guess I can kind of relate. I flip up the hood of my cloak, and relax a little against the back wall. Even if the situation sucks, it’s reassuring to have some answers. Plus, the doc and his two casters look a lot more relaxed, so, I gotta believe they have a plan forming now, at worst.

In the front, I see Ritsuka’s hand shoot up, and just a half-second later, her brother’s beside her. Da Vinci nods at them both.

“So…” says Ritsuka with great focus, glancing at her brother then Da Vinci, “If our best move is to stabilize things enough we can find Goetia, then what’s our next step to stabilizing?”

“Our next step,” answers Doctor Romani with a tired smile, “Is for you to rest—for everyone, to rest. Those of us who do analysis, we’ll take shifts, so we can keep running tests on the situation. Everyone else, we need to be in tip-top shape.”

One of the kids goes to ask him a question—the brother—Akira? – and Doctor Romani cuts him off with a gentle hand.

“-Akira, Mash, you two just got back from a harrowing experience. Eat, sleep, and then report tomorrow for a physical exam and mental health checkup. Ritsuka, you just helped sustain a reality marble for the better part of three days. After almost dying, and contracting a grail war’s worth of spirits. You do the same. On the subject of spirits, obviously Emiya needs time to recover, but as much as possible, I want everyone else to, too. Rest up, because we need you sharp. We’ve uh—finally—got accommodations and rooms worked out. Sylvia has a print out with room assignments, as well as directions to bathrooms, the cafeteria, and medical quarters.”

“And after we report?” asks Akira.

Doctor Romani sighs. “…We don’t know for sure yet, but, it’s pretty likely we’ll be having to send out small groups to contend with both the targeted singularities, and the new anomalies. We’ll let you know more when we do. But for now, the assignment is rest.”

“Yes sir!” calls out the little purple haired girl—Mash—almost over the end of his sentence. She turns pink and stutters out an apology.

“I can’t believe he wasn’t lying about the daughter thing after all,” mutters Emiya in disbelief nearby.

I try not to laugh.

“And that goes for the Doctor, too! I’m afraid he’ll be out of commission while he sleeps,” says David in a friendly tone with more than a little danger hiding inside it warning against being challenged, “There are other people on standby at the medbay though—don’t worry.”

Doctor Romani sighs again. “Any last questions?”

“I got one, but not for him,” says Billy’s voice in my head, “Robin, uh—everything he said—you got the gist of it, yeah?”

“I did,” I reply, mostly ignoring the end of the briefing in favor of this.

“Well, if some human mages figured out some kind of First Law type magic altered the world state, I can see those greedy bastards runnin’ around breakin’ all kindsa shit tryin’ to get more power—ain’t like mages ever been careful before,” he replies, “But they ain’t the ones who changed it. Too much experimenting. And I believe the Doc didn’t do it. I know the kid didn’t. So who do you think did?”

“Why would I know?” I ask, turning to lean against the wall and trying to find him in the crowd so I can give him a look, “I’m not a Caster, or any kind of magic user, for that matter. If they don’t know, no way I do.”

“Well, sure,” says Billy awkwardly, and I find him in the crowd finally, near the far left side, already watching me. To my surprise, he looks…deeply contemplative. “But you would know who would want us to have a chance to see each other.”

“Come again?” I say, truly taken aback.

“I…thought it over,” says Billy, meeting my gaze, “What got said back in the bar—about how everyone but Kotarou seems to come in a set? Think about it.” He ticks off on his fingers. “You, Me. Emiya, Cu Chulainn. David, the Doctor. Mozart, Salieri. Doesn’t it seem way too random to be random?”

… “I take your meaning…” I offer slowly, “…I do. …But. …No one would. Right?”

Billy nods, looking concerned. “I could only think of Geronimo, for us. But, I don’t think he’s ever even met any of the others. They sure as shit don’t remember him. And I can’t think of anybody else. But it can’t be coincidence, right? Two is coincidence, three is a pattern—that’s the sayin’.”

“Well…whoever did, it seems non-malicious, right?” I say after a few seconds of thought, “Even as much as Emiya and Cu Chulainn bitch at each other, they’re not actually mad to both be here. And it’s a straight-up gift to most of us. I don’t think we need to be worried about it.”

I look across the room at Billy, and the expression on his face says he could not be more sure that I’m wrong.

“I think you want to know a donor, not just a robber,” offers Billy.

And when I consider the re-painting of the whole world going on around us, I realize pretty quick he couldn’t be more right.

“Alright!” comes Da Vinci’s voice, loud through the speaker system, and sharp, snapping me back to attention, “That concludes the briefing! Everyone rest up. We all need it, and it's a big day tomorrow.”

------------------------------------

It’s quiet in the room. Somehow, it feels almost like being home. I really like it.

I mean, it doesn’t look like home. The walls there are not the off-white of paper walls like I’m used to at home, and there aren’t all the pictures and posters Akira and I hung up on them; it’s kind of sparse in here—just white-blue walls and floor, the Chaldea emblem on the wall, a desk and an empty shelf, and our beds—but, just the same. …It feels like getting in your bed at home does. Dunno why. Maybe because Akira is here, and we’re always okay together.

“Aki,” I say. He’s been quiet, but I know he’s not asleep. He doesn’t like, snore when he sleeps, but he breathes louder, and I know the sound super well. He isn’t doing it right now.

“Suka,” he replies. I can tell he knew I was awake already too.

“…Are you okay?”

I haven’t gotten to ask that before. We always had Mash, or Doctor Romani, or Billy, or somebody else nearby. I mean, I could ask, but he couldn’t have said the truth, if I had, and I couldn’t have either.

“…”

I hear him sit up, so I roll onto my side and look over. Even in the dim light from the hall outside, spilling under the door, I can see him enough to make out his expression, and see he’s looking at me, too.

“…No,” he says simply. He leans against the wall, and tucks his knees up to his chest.

I climb out of my bed, and walk over to his, clambering up beside him. Taking my place next to him, where I always am, I sigh, letting out some real tension finally, and I feel him lean his head on my shoulder.

“How about you?” says Akira.

“I’m not either,” I say quietly, “…But. You know. It doesn’t matter.”

It’s weird. I wish it did, but, I feel selfish, and bad, for wishing it did.

“Yeah,” he says in the same subdued tone as my own.

“…We’re gonna be okay,” I promise, looking over.

He exhales slowly. When he speaks, I can hear an attempt at a smile in his voice. It makes me sad… “Are we?”

I take his hand. He squeezes mine, and we sit in silence for a few minutes, just thinking, and breathing together.

“…You wanna tell me about it?” I ask finally, in the stillness of the room that feels like my bedroom at home somehow, even though it’s on the other side of the world, at the end of it, “About it for real? With all the bad parts, and awful feelings, and stuff you’re afraid to even think? The stuff that wakes you up at night?”

He thinks about that. “Yeah. I would. But you go first.”

“…I got somebody killed. For real, forever. Not because I wasn’t fast enough to help. The heroic spirits helping me killed them, for doing bad stuff. And now they’re just dead.” I think about that for real. About Mr. Toujou. Miss Ayase.

I turn and look at Akira, and see his eyes reflected back in the dim light, like my other half.

“…I feel bad. I didn’t want it. But, what’s worse is…I don’t feel very bad. I know I should feel worse than I do. I know I should feel guiltier, and have tried harder. But, Mr. Toujou threatened to kill you, and Mom, and Dad. He was going to kill me, and make me kill my heroic spirit. They were torturing people. Director Ayase was running that whole place. And I…I saw, what they did to Billy, to Robin, Cu Chulainn, David, god, Salieri. …Kotarou. I just…”

He's still watching, listening. No judgement.

“…I’m scared it’s gonna change me,” I whisper, letting go of his hand to bury my face in my knees. “What if I become bad? What if I care less someday? I don’t want to stop being me, but I feel like I’m already letting myself down.”

“…” Akira watches me a few more seconds, then looks away. “…I saw a bunch of people die,” he whispers, “When that bomb went off, there was fire everywhere. Parts of the ceiling had fallen on them. The walls. Some had even burned alive. The worst part, was that not everybody was dead yet. And…” His eyes tear up. “…Mash was there. A column had crushed her body. Everything in her midsection must have just been pulp, and I couldn’t lift the column, and it wouldn’t have mattered if I could. She was dead, it was just taking a while. And I could hear another bomb ticking down. I was so scared. I wanted so bad, Suk, to live. I wanted to run out that door, and not look back. But god, she was so scared. She was crying, and shaking. I knew the scariest thing on earth, to her, was to die alone. And I knew I wasn’t gonna achieve anything, except a few seconds being less bad, if I stayed to die with her. If I died, you and Mom and Dad would all be so sad, too. It would have been so easy, to leave her. I wanted to leave her.”

I realize he’s crying.

“…But you didn’t,” I say.

“I’m scared it doesn’t matter,” says Akira, “Matter enough? I thought about it. She was so pitiful, and helpless, and I thought about leaving her to die alone, to save myself.”

“But you didn’t,” I say again, putting a hand on his back.

He nods, breathing slowing back down. “I know. …What if I do someday, though?”

Oh. We’re exactly the same, huh.

“…You won’t,” I say after a few seconds. “I know, because I know you better than I know myself. Even if you did, I’d still love you, and I’d forgive you, and you’d still be good, but you won’t. Because you’re glad, right?”

He glances at me.

“You’re glad you stayed. And not just because you got a miracle, and survived. It was scary, when you were deciding, but after, it was easy, right? Like peace.”

“…How did you know?” he asks, shifting to face me more completely.

“I saw how you looked at Mash,” I reply easily, smiling, “You were grateful, right? That you got to save her.”

He nods. “I was really glad.”

“Then don’t worry. You aren’t how you feel, you’re how you choose to be. And you’d always save her. I bet you know that already, deep down. It’s just really scary, the first time you have to act the way you always thought you would,” I say.

“You realize you’re not holding yourself to the same standard, right?” replies Akira with a tired smile, plopping a hand on my head, “You’re worried you’re bad because you aren’t feeling guilty enough.”

“-W—no—and I didn’t try hard enough!” I argue.

“Didn’t you?” he says, unimpressed.

Did I? I’m not sure anymore. I’m so jumbled up, it’s hard to tell.

“You know how when we were kids, you always really liked the character who was the hero’s friend, who got trapped sort of turning to the dark side—not because they were bad, but because sometimes someone had to do something a little bad, so the hero didn’t have to?” asks Akira, “They were such a good friend, they’d even lose themselves, so the hero didn’t have to?”

“Is that what I’m turning into?” I ask nervously.

He grins and shakes his head, like I’m being stupid. “No. But you should love yourself at least as much as that, if you ever started to. Those people who died, it was to protect your friends right? And you feel guilty you didn’t try harder to keep them alive, even though probably there was no way to do it at all?”

But…what if there was? And I’m just not good enough to find it…

I nod, and look at the sheets.

“So if you even did anything wrong, which I think you didn’t, even a little, you only did it to protect somebody you love,” says Akira, like it’s so easy, “You put them before an ideal that was gonna hurt them. That’s not bad. That’s love. You’ve always been good, and you always will be Ritsuka. And if you ever have to do things you wish you didn’t, I already know the only reason you’re gonna do them is so someone like me doesn’t have to. I hope you never, ever have to do that again. But if you do, thank you.”

He reaches over, and he pulls me into a hug.

It’s a little unexpected, since we were talking, but, I think I needed it. I feel the urge to cry build up in my throat, and lean in against him, wrapping my arms around his back.

“I know you want to save everybody, and have everybody be good, and never hurt anyone at all,” whispers Akira, “You want to love everybody, and see it all turns out alright. So thank you, for taking a bullet for everybody else. I know it hurt. And I know it hurts to ever act how you don’t want to be. But thank you, and I love you for it. Thank you for loving me enough to do the hard thing yourself.”

“Do I have to do it?” I whisper, voice shaky, trying not to cry. I can’t, so I stop talking, and lean my head into his shoulder, doing it silently.

“No,” says Akira, “You never have to. I hope next time, I’m the one who does.”

I don’t want that at all. I’d much rather it be me.

Oh.

There’s something in that thought that gets through the way the rest of what he’s been saying hasn’t quite been able to. Maybe…maybe not every part of it isn’t bad, about me, even if most of it was. Maybe there’s a little piece of love in there too, after all.

“Let’s hope neither of us has to ever again. I want to grow up a little slower,” says Akira.

“Me too. But so long as I get to do it with you, I think we’ll both be okay,” I whisper back.

And it helps.

In the way my twin has only ever been able to help me.

Akira and I talk, for several hours, when we should be sleeping, but, I think we both need this a lot more. I talk about helplessness and weakness and my inability, and the weight of quick choices, and my fears. He talks about failing to save somebody, and needing to never do it again, and how lonely it feels to survive.

But, it’s not all bad.

I already knew it wasn’t, for me, but somehow when I say the good and all the bad together to Akira, I really hear how much is good in a different way—even with the parts that are bad; like, how I was so scared Toujou would kill him and Mom and Dad, and how Emiya said he wouldn’t blame me if I made him die there to save them, and how he thanked me after. How he promised he’d keep them safe from Ur Shanabi, and did it too. How Salieri makes me so sad and worried, and said he’s not like a real person, but I gave him food, and talked to him the same, and I didn’t think it would matter, but I saw him smile at the shop. How Doctor Roman bought the goofiest swimsuits in the gift shop, to try and help me relax, and wore it all through an operation. How I was a little worried about tying my pool of energy to somebody I didn’t really know, but he keeps coming to check on me and make sure I’m okay, and he hasn’t betrayed me or hurt me once. I keep gambling, and winning—I said that to Akira. He said, ‘No. You keep putting faith in people, and they keep proving you right.’

I’m not sure if it’s different. But, I like the way he says it.

It’s been scary. I watched the world wipe away, like a bomb was taking out the whole planet. But, we saved people—people that weren’t alive in the version of the world Akira knew about, here in Chaldea. Maybe it’s only ninety-six people who wouldn’t have made it, but that’s so much more than zero. I’m really proud of it. Even in the horror, we’ve done little things okay.

It's the same for Akira. He doesn’t tell me until the next morning, when we’re getting ready for the day, but, he feels awful for what happened to Olga Marie, but he says he also saw her change—grow—that, in the short time they worked together, she got less mean, and less hard, and he was proud. She said she didn’t want to die, because she hadn’t proven herself yet, but he said, ‘I wish it felt like it might have mattered to her that she did, to me, in Fuyuki…’ I said, ‘I think it would.’ He smiled. And he talked about Mash, who’s shy, and awkward, but she’s brave, too. He said she’s gone from being barely able to say no to a request, to risking her life to protect him—and she’s not just braver, she seems happier. Not that all this bad stuff happened, but she’s really…alive. He says Doctor Roman told him that talking with Akira after the mission was the happiest he’s ever seen her. It would be great, if nobody had died, and she still got to feel that way, but the fact it happened a bad way, doesn’t make the goof part not good.

I can tell he’s different, too. Akira’s impulsive, like me; Mom and Dad call us ‘the tornado twins,’ because we ran around causing messes on accident so much when we were little. I know he hasn’t changed much, but, I can see him thinking hard now, and I know he’s thinking about how to make everybody happy and safe. I wish he hadn’t had to grow up a little so fast. I wish it hadn’t happened at all. But, for parts of him to grow into early, I’m really happy he picked such a nice one.

We talk for several hours, quiet, like we used to when Mom and Dad had said it was bed time and we better not, and we’d whisper to each other through the wall of our rooms anyway and be bad, because we were too excited about a trip the next day. I know they were right, and so is the Doctor now, but I think this time we were too, because at the end of it all, I climb back in my bed, and I hear Akira whisper, “Hey, Suka? I really love you, you know?” and I whisper back, “I love you even more,” and we go back and forth trying to one-up the other for a minute, and then call it a tie, and the room gets quiet, and I really rest for the first time since this all started, since the day I got Billy out, like I’ve learned how to sleep again by talking with my brother.

Maybe I have. Maybe if he can be proud for me, and I can be sure for him, we can both really be…okay.

------------------------------------

Timeline: Two Months, Sixteen Days, Two Hours Forward. Coordinates: -4.R48X91, -R1.559X46 Graph: 10912.1326

The jungle is dark and full of shadows, but it is not quiet.

That is a good sign. There is nothing more fearful, in a jungle, than the absence of noise. Can you even imagine the terrors it would take to scare every type of beast living in one, into silent submission or flight?

So, it is a clearly good sign.

What is clearly not a good sign, is the man-made structure up ahead.

Kuhaha, I mutter as a scoff in my throat. Irritating, being dropped here for this. Not that I’d prefer a master; I wouldn’t. But I’d prefer some damn idea of what I’m being flung here to do.

It isn’t like planning or persistence are issues for me, which is probably why the Counter Force chose me, but it’s not my job, and I don’t love being spat out by it. I shouldn’t be here at all. And if I’m in the prison tower after this again, I’ll hunt her and that demon down myself.

Still. I let myself melt into the shadows and fade in and out, towards the building. It’s an ugly thing, built at odd angles and jutting out, like boxes of different sizes stacked haphazardly about. I have become curious, so, I may as well indulge. Despite my distaste for the system, it does tend to throw heroic spirits at the more disgusting humans in this miserable world, and I have a taste for blood.

There is movement behind me.

How. The HELL, did I not notice the-?!

Cursing, I swing around, and am uppercut in the face by a massive blunt object the size of a bed.

Shit, I think it is a bed, I register as I fly backwards, breaking through two trees before catching onto a third one with a clawed hand and swinging around it with my momentum, landing back on my feet with an aching jaw.

Fast—hell—too fast! I feel almost no spike in magical energy, but the red figure who attacked is a blur, tearing at me at a sickening speed. Tch-!

I leap up, and call black flames to my hands, raining them down on the thing, but it dodges and weaves, and I see it raise a gun, so I mentally calculate the time it takes for a bullet to be fired and aim taken, and dodge, leaping from the tree I’m clinging to, smack into the path of the gun, because it THROWS it at me! Not shoots! No! It throws the whole gun at me!

It doesn’t even hurt that much, but it catches me by surprise, and expecting that, the red figure takes that fraction of an opening, leaps, and kicks me out of mid-air, through another three trees. I hear trunks snap and thud around me, and curse as I dig my claws into the ground to bring myself to a stop. It’s going to draw guards, like this.This thing is probably their perimeter security. I need to retreat, if I want to at least avoid being identified.

I sink into the shadows, and begin to melt from one to another, and the stupid thing appears from among the trees at a full-tilt run again, going right for me—I swear! The damn thing locks eyes! It’s a human, too—a heroic spirit, it must be, and it’s running at me like a football player going for a tackle.

FINE! If that’s how you want it!

I dash forward myself, and having run away before, I catch her by surprise, ducking under her arm and slicing her through the gut with a black-fame’d claw.

She cries out, more in surprise than anger or pain, and whips around to follow me like she hasn’t even noticed.

Tch. It didn’t go as deep as I meant.

The woman twisted on impact, like even too late to dodge, she somehow knows the best place in her gut to take the hit. This is a pain. I’m not really hurt yet, but neither is she. I need to make this really fast, or whatever is in that building that the Counter Force found important enough to throw me at, is going to come out here, and I’m not a man who likes to rush in blind. I should take this more seriously.

Annoyed, I catch another tree and swing myself around it again, sliding past her as she barrels after me, and slicing into her leg.

Almost too easy. She caught me by surprise, but she’s not as fast as me, just odd.

Moving faster, I tear off into the cover of shadows again, her, single-minded as a bull, plowing after me through the underbrush, then I turn and leap to a tree, propel myself off the side to another, and then from it, dive down at her, tearing a gash across her chest as I go past.

Breathing hard, she hesitates, turning to see where I went, and I use the opening to dash in and swing at her back with a claw, and my fingers sink in and find flesh, just as I feel a vice-like hand clamp down on my neck, raise me up, and slam me hard into the ground

JESUS! How strong-?!

It actually stuns me. Just a split second, but she slams me down so hard that the ground dents around me, and I’m at least two feet down, in a crater, throat burning.

“Hold still,” she says like a mildly-irritated reprimand, and that tips me off like nothing else has. She’s not even mildly threatened.

Shit-

“I don’t need mercy!” I shout, raising a hand towards her face, and managing to dig my fingers into the side of it, drawing blood, but her eyes are fixed on me like steel, and she’s already calling hers out, too:

“I will purge all that is toxic, all that is harmful.”

“I follow a path that is beyond love and hate!” I spit, digging my claws deeper and feeling my mana surge around me.

            “For as long as I have this power-“

“Enter Chateau D’If!”

I do it—I’m faster.

Around me, I feel my body speed up, my mind sharpen, until the pace is so frantic, time may as well stop around me. Wrenching myself from her grasp, I rip a claw up and through her torso, scouring her body with black flames, curses of death. I move at the same time left, right, behind her, above, tearing her back, her legs, her arms, her face; I am everywhere, I am fire itself, I am death and hate in that moment, I am the concept of inescapable suffering and the unconquerable march of the reaper. In an instant, I attack from every conceivable angle, and cover her body in the flames of the cursed poison inside me, then skid to a stop on her left as the phantasm breaks and ends around me, the world catching back up.

You’re finished, I think, relieved, and surprised to be threatened enough to be relieved, No one can survive those flames.

And no living witness to a phantasm, no identity given away.

Her uniform, as I’m only now recognizing it to be, hanging in tatters around her, blood seeping from her chest over breasts and down her torso, past the hole through her stomach, and along shredded leg muscles, she blinks in surprise at where I was, then turns to see me where I am now, as if she can still sense it. Her face is not twisted in pain or anger. Her eyes are red, like mine, and burn, like mine, but burn a different color. Blood seeps down her forehead, and it’s like she doesn’t feel it, the way I don’t. And she looks at me, but not the way I am looking at her. She reaches out a hand, but not the way I reached out mine, and she calls:

            “I shall lead everyone to happiness!”

She’s still using it, I realize, taken aback. She has to know using that much energy would kill her instantly, with my flames consuming her body at speed already. She’s going to take me out with-?

“Nightingale Pledge!”

A waterfall of white flames erupts around her and the black flames of my phantasm that are burning out her life, and behind her, a massive figure the size of a building appears—like her—I think it is her, but made of white flame as well, and with a sword, and she raises a hand and the sword comes down with a ferocity and speed—I try to move, and find I can’t, and it hits me.

And passes through.

I breathe raggedly, reaching a hand to my chest, and I find myself undamaged, only—Wait. My flames have gone out?

They always glow around me and my claws, but-

Shit!

I look back at her and see they’ve vanished around her as well, and as she stands there, unmoving, the slashes across her face heal, and the hole in her stomach closes, and-

Mer…

I see her. I see me, in the Chateau D’If, and—?

“Mercedes?” I ask, taken aback, and I forget for just an instant, to move.

She is on me like an attack dog, her force and size knocking me to the ground again, and I see an outstretched hand holding a pad with what can only be chloroform on it from the smell—Stupid! Poison won’t even work on me! I just used my own-

My back hits the ground and the pad rams into my face, and WHY THE FUCK IS IT WORKING?!?

What the HELL is going on with her?! WHY-?

Damn it! Her phantasm! That’s right—some part of me remembers; it blocks the effects of other—

“Mercedes!” I try, voice muffled by the pad, “Get off of me!”

I could stab her until she lets go, but now that I remember who she is, I suddenly don’t want to; I also suddenly remember she’d probably die before thinking to move, the insane  nurse! Instead, I try to just grab and pull her off, but it’s like wrestling a goddamn rhino.

What kind of insane strength do you HAVE, woman?!?

“Please sit patiently. You are in need of treatment,” she states calmly, pinning me down without mercy, and not budging an inch.

“I do not need treatment!” comes my muffled voice as I thrash around under her, trying not to breathe, “I’m fine! Get off! We’re on the same side!”

“I’m sorry, but you are clearly disoriented and unwell. You may be suffering an injury to the head,” she says with sympathy, “I am not Mercedes.”

YOU BITCH! Do you remember me too, and you still-?!

Shit, it’s getting hard. We don’t exactly do body functions the way humans do, but it doesn’t matter, because her chloroform is seeping in not exactly the way it’s supposed to either. Holding my breath seems to slow it down, but I think it’s sinking into my skin anyway. Also, it’s also agonizing, which it shouldn’t be, because I don’t actually have human lungs! I should be able to hold out until it starts damaging my prana cycle, and instead she’s…fucking somehow forcing my body to think it’s functioning like it’s flesh and blood! “You remember me?” I manage.

She tilts her head and blinks at me, considering my face, staring deeply.

“…No,” she decides.

LIAR!

“Listen to me!” I choke out, “I don’t want to kill you, but if you don’t get off me, I’ll rip you to shreds! We both need to get out of here, before the people in that building get here to check out the massive disturbance you caused!”

She turns her head to look, then looks back at me.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “I do know you.”

Finally! Thank-

I relax for just an instant, and she dumps a whole bottle of chloroform onto my head, then slams me in the gut so I involuntarily take a breath, before I can even process what just happened.

Shit…

“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding genuinely sorry, “You were agitated and needed to be sedated. I decided the best way for you not to hurt me like you want, is for you to go to sleep.”

“You bitch…” I wheeze weakly, forgetting not to take a breath, with my head suddenly so hazy. This is so stupid. I’ve made so many mistakes in a row, and it’s just because I remember her! This is why it’s a mistake to ever let anyone get close to you—only someone you trust can ever stab you in the back! Why did I do this?! I’m so frustrated I almost do hope she just bashes my head into a puddle now. Maybe I’d finally learn that lesson.

“That’s extremely inappropriate language,” she reprimands harshly, as if she’s disappointed in me now, too. Gripping the lapels of my coat firmly, she jerks me up, and hoists me over a shoulder in a fireman carry.

…this sucks.

“Just…kill me,” I hiss out unhappily. Damn it. My head is starting to feel numb.

“I told you—I am not going to kill you,” she replies, “You need treatment.”

Great.

I feel a gloved hand pat my head. “That’s good. Please remain calm. Your anger was consuming you so much you could not listen to reason, but do not worry; I will find a way to cure you even if I have to kill you.”

“…please don’t,” say dryly, giving up and hanging limp over a shoulder.

“I am Florence Nightingale,” she says, ignoring me.

No shit. “I know…who you are,” I manage between labored breaths.

She glances at me and tilts her head again, curious this time. “Then why did you call me-?”

I pretend to pass out, because I don’t want to answer, and I’m exhausted now anyway.

“Hmmm. Poor man,” she says with a sad sigh, and forges on.

Angel of Crimea, more like Angel of Brute Force Sanity, I think, but I’m not as annoyed as I could be. I’m not as sick as I’m acting, either. The effects of her drugs will knock me out if I’m not careful, but they only worked full force when she was smashing me in the face with them, and with her noble phantasm wearing off now too, I could choose to activate my poison resistance and shake off the effects. The thing is, though, I actually don’t really mind letting her have her fun, and just going along with whatever it is she’s planning. I could fight back now, or break free, and run away, but I don’t really have a reason to.  I mean, she’s not going to kill me, no matter what she said; she just isn’t like that—and it isn’t like Alaya gave me instructions, so if it can’t be bothered to lift a finger, why should I run around slaving for some malicious god? Besides, as much of a pain as that crazy nurse can be, she can also be fun, and the fact she’s here at all is interesting.

The fact both of us are?

Maybe there is a reason, I think, contented, and I begin to plot.

[niragisimp]

The Pain Before (Niragi X Reader) Part 8

Part Seven, Part Nine, Series Masterlist

Your breath caught in your throat and Niragi locked his seemingly angered eyes into your own. You started to pull away before a hand wrapped around your waist, and you found yourself pressed into the side of the blonde. "She's busy right now." Without giving Niragi time to respond, Chishiya began walking with you past him, whispering into your ear to not look back. You could feel his Niragi's eyes on the two of you as you walked away, a small pain in your heart. You pushed the feeling aside-- though he did save your life, he was also a dangerous man with a loaded rifle.

Niragi seethed. He watched as you left with Chishiya, his anger beginning to spill out of him. He quickly hurried to his room, throwing the door open and throwing the nearest thing he could touch. He didn't bother to close the door, who would stop him? It wasn't long before his room looked like the aftermath of a police raid. Curtains ripped and thrown to the floor, his mattress lying sideways against the wall, the desk in the corner now on the floor in pieces.

"What the hell was that snake doing with her," his mind raced. "He shouldn't touch her. Nobody should ever touch her." He ran his hand through his hair, the tie that held it back long gone. He caught his reflection in the mirror briefly, filling himself with disgust. "I look like I did, back then. Almost," he sneered at his own thoughts, kicking the bathroom door fully open to give himself a good once over. He could see his tongue piercing pressed against his cheek, but other than the rest of his piercings, he did still look the same.

His hair had gotten a bit longer, and his eyes had a more dangerous look in them. He didn't look at himself much these days, there wasn't really a need to. He was feared and left alone by pretty much everyone but the women at the Beach, or Aguni if he got a little too out of hand. He took a deep breath, running his hand through his raven hair. His mind wouldn't get those thoughts of out his head, no matter what he tried to do. It just kept going back to that day. 

The rain kept pouring, running the blood from his nose down into his shirt. Nobody looked at him, and even if they did, they didn't stop to help. His ribs hurt every time he took a step in front of him, the ache spreading throughout his body. His knee must've gotten scrapped when he tried to stand at one point, the rain stung when it struck him through the hole in his now ripped pants. Part of him wanted to wipe the rain from his cracked glasses, the other too tired to care. He kept remembering that girl.

She had on the same uniform as his school requires, but he couldn't say he recalled ever having seen her before. She wasn't in any of his classes, nor at lunch. He closed the door behind him, sighing as the dark empty house greeted him once again. He threw his shoes to the ground, pulling himself up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on his bed, his soaked uniform still clinging to him.

"She was beautiful," he thought to himself in the dark, "I hope she got home safely," his face was buried in his pillow, but he could still feel his cheeks heat up. He thought himself something of a savior almost, like what he did had made a difference. If he wasn't in that alley, if that girl didn't run into him, would Haru have had his way with her? "She was clearly in distress," he thought, recalling her torn shirt, her makeup running and her eyes puffy. "Whatever happens to her," he continued, his mind drifting off to sleep, "I hope she gets to smile again."

Chishiya sat on the bed with you, almost uncomfortably close. The silence went on for what felt like forever, but it didn't bother you much. You couldn't imagine it bothered Chishiya either, for that matter.

"Are you alright?" You nodded your head, looking down at your bruised hands. "Spades?" You nodded again, turning your hands over to get a better look at them. "You know, your finger might be broken. You should see Ann." He stared at you for a minute before placing his arm around you and patting your arm awkwardly. You tried to hold back a laugh as you looked up at him, "You're really bad at this, you know?" He steals a quick glance before almost smiling. "Just make sure you keep yourself alive."

You frowned and looked back down at your hands, one looking much better than the other. "Why do that when I can just inadvertently rely on a madman with a gun to save me all the time..."

"The world needs more smiles like yours." You gasped, not getting a moment to process as his hand found its way to your hair, ruffling it to your dismay. "W-what the, how do you like it!" You said rhetorically, instantly going to do the same with his. He laughed, surprising you. He wasn't a man that showed emotion often. He grabbed your hand, still in his hair, and gingerly placed it by your side. 

"It'll be over soon, I think."

You tilt your head to look at him, "What do you mean? Are you going to take the--"

He keeps his gaze forward, a coy smile starting on his lips. "Trust me," he stands before giving you a chance to probe him further, "I have to get back. Kuina is waiting for me."

You nod in understanding, hearing him walk towards the door. "And (Y/N)?" You turn to look at him, "Yeah?"

You watch as he smiles looking at you, "Try to smile. It's good for the atmosphere." He shoots you an awkward wink that causes you to laugh, and to your surprise, he laughs back. You gather yourself and make your way to the bathroom, eager to scrub the sweat off yourself. "Be seeing you and Kuina tomorrow?" as you walk into the bathroom. You hear him respond with a light hum in agreement as moments later the door opens and closes, leaving you alone at last.

Aguni sighed, looking into the room. If it wasn't for Niragi sitting in the center on the floor, rifle in hand, Aguni might've questioned what had happened. He knocked on the open door with the back of his hand, "Hey." When Niragi kept his eyes forward not responding, he continued, "Go cool off. They have to fix the room." He stepped back when Niragi stood up, clutching his rifle to his side.

He remained silent as he walked out of his room, his jaw still clenched. Almost instinctively he made way for (Y/N)'s room, almost running down the stairs to your floor. He almost threw the door open, pushing his pace around the corner. Niragi stopped himself in his tracks when he saw what was ahead of him; Chishiya closing your door, hoodie unzipped, hair unkempt with a coy smile plastered on his face. He eyed Niragi from down the hall, giving him an almost "Gothca" look before turning his heel and heading in the opposite direction.

Niragi contemplated following him for a moment, his judgment clouded over with, envy perhaps; or maybe it was jealousy. Regardless, he didn't care for the feeling. He took a breath as he remained focused on your door, heading forward. 

He rushes into your room, not bothering to knock. He heard your surprise in the bathroom, rushing out still in your bathing suit. You couldn't help but be surprised when you saw Niragi standing in your room, rifle at his side. "W-what're you doing in here?"

Niragi looked you over, taking note of the bruises on your hands and legs. He began to feel his heart quicken as you looked at him questioningly, "I... I, just... Just, sit down!" He yelled. You jumped a bit at his tone and sat as he asked, keeping your head high enough to watch him as he started pacing in front of you. "I still need to talk to you!" You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, not that it helped much. The sweat on your palms was already enough to tell you that you were uneasy.

Looking down, Niragi saw your bruised hands begin to shake. He quickly took your chair from the provided desk and sat in front of you, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward to face you. The two of you sat like that for more than a moment before Niragi started to speak, "Why was Chishiya in here?"

You took a deep breath to answer, "The same reason you're in here, to talk." You kept your head down low, wondering how far your not-so-brave face could carry you at the Beach. You could hear him scoff, "Yeah, people always come out of a talk looking like that." He nodded to your still-ruffled hair causing a gasp to escape, your bruised hands hurrying to fix it.

The urge to defend Chishiya gave you a bit of courage, real courage, something you weren't used to in this place. "Maybe some people are actually nice--" Niragi brought your face up to meet his and held your chin in between his fingers, his voice stern. "Why're you still wearing that?" You could feel the blood drain out of your face, your mind rushing back to nights prior when Niragi threw you out of his room.

Your lips suddenly felt dry and your throat feeling hoarse. "I-I, this... This is the dress c-code--" He cuts you off, nodding to your dresser, "No. I mean, why haven't you been wearing it?" You find yourself tilting your head cautiously, glancing over, "But... There's nothing in there, but my spare top..." He let go of your face, his hand dropping to his knee as he stood abruptly, walking over to your dresser. You leaned back to see past his back as he opened the second drawer, pulling a familiar piece of clothing out and tossing it at you.

The material was soft, like silk almost. Without realizing it, you had clutched the shirt in your hands, your fingers carefully going over the patterns, relishing in the softness. This place may pose as a paradise, but no bedspread you ever felt could compare to this velvety touch. Your mind snapped back to reality as you realized Niragi was standing in front of you, looking down at you with unfamiliar eyes.

"Um... Didn't you say to give this back?" You felt yourself become awash with shame, trying to remember the comfort Kuina gave you when you told her what happened that night. "It wasn't my fault," you echoed in your mind, trying to calm yourself.

Niragi could feel his shoulders tense up as the words flowed from your lips. He tried not to look at them, tried not to make you uneasy, but it seemed he just had that effect on people these days. His body moved faster than he wanted it to, leaning over the bed and seemingly trapping you between his arms as you held yourself up on your arm. He watched your eyes as his hair fell down, almost touching your face; everything he wanted to say to you vanishing into thin air.

Your eyes stared as his own darted from one of yours to the other, seemingly trying to find something. His eyes rested on your lips as they started shaking, your mind racing with uncertainties. Niragi gently placed his hand under your chin, almost tracing your jawline with his thumb. "Wear the shirt. I won't ask again." His voice was lower than you've ever heard it, and it oddly reminded you of a sweet honey. He pushed himself off the bed and away from you, eyeing your hand with the shirt still clutched in your fist.

Niragi didn't say another word and he left you in your room, looking back at you briefly as he closed the door gently. You let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding, your heart almost pounding through your chest. You looked at the shirt in your hands with confusion, "When was he in my room?" You remembered Chishiya surprising you in your room two days ago, with a message. "Niragi was in here earlier. He seemed to be carrying something with him, but he didn't leave with it. How strange is that?"

You sat in the dark for a while, contemplating the last week. Life wasn't easy, but it was easier surviving on your own than at the Beach. You had barely ever talked to anyone, let alone casually bunked with a little over a hundred other people. You couldn't help but humor your heart a bit as it pained you gently from inside your chest, wondering what could've caused such a reaction. Maybe it was the thought of leaving Kuina and Chishiya? That didn't feel right, but it was the only logical reason you could think of.

The bed engulfed you as you lay down, your hands beginning to throb after your hot shower. You let yourself relax for a bit, soaking in the warmth of your surroundings. Your eyelids began to get heavier as time loomed on, something you graciously accepted. You did begin to wonder though, as your mind spun its wheels, why you couldn't stop thinking about Niragi in your room earlier.

He looked so familiar in a weird way, so gentle. You brushed it off as your mind playing a trick on you, but your memory backed it every step of the way. His voice, the way his hair fell. It all seemed so familiar, yet so distant. You didn't have much time to contemplate these rising thoughts, as sleep pulled you into her grasp, and left you to wonder for another day.

[thequeenpapaya]

My first Hazbin fic I suppose. Trigger warning for ED content, don’t read if it could be triggering <3 take care of yourself babes. Very important!

(Fic below the cut)

“Are you really eating all that?”

“You’ll get fat, I’m surprised you’re not already.”

He usually just tells people to fuck off, or laughs about it. It irks him that stupid comments from nobodies even stick to him, that they matter to him. They shouldn’t.

He’s above that.

At least, Adam likes to think he is.

He used to be. Before it started to really sink in, he supposed. Before phones started becoming a thing in heaven. But he’s still above it, right?

He’s the first man. If anything, other people should be looking to HIM for the ideal. Not the other way around.

So he doesn’t really know why he spends his time worrying. Why he grits his teeth and scrolls through social media posts about ways to look better. Be better.

Portion control. Exercise. Counting calories. Don’t eat too much. Eat the right things.

But that’s the problem. Adam feels like he can’t. He would never admit it, but he doesn’t want to exercise beyond what he already does. He’s lazy. He doesn’t want to count calories and eat only healthy things.

It just tastes too good. His guilty pleasures. The grease of it, the feeling of the food on his tastebuds. It makes him happy, in the moment at least. Even if the aftermath isn’t as serotonin filled as the act of eating itself gives.

But he found a workaround, a way to have the best of both worlds… a way to get an even better feeling of euphoria. One that makes the enjoyment of food seem like just the buildup for the real drug. So euphoric as he revels in the feeling he gets of emptiness and control.

And yet it’s so… dirty. Like a secret you keep from everyone out of fear they’d find you disgusting. The thought of anyone knowing how he keeps in shape fills him with a deep sense of dread.

But it’s not wrong. He’s not doing anything bad. Angels are supposed to be perfect, in all ways. If he has to shove his fingers down his throat to stay slim, what’s the harm? It’s not hurting him.

Not physically.

And just because he thinks about food a lot, what to eat, and how to purge, when to purge, if he got it all up… well—that doesn’t mean it’s affecting him mentally either! He’s just dedicated to the craft.

He’s fine. Obviously. It’s just everyone else that would act weird about it. It’s a them problem.

“Sir, are you okay?” Lute’s voice pierces through the brain fog. Adam didn’t even realize he was spacing out before her eyes narrow at him… in, concern? No, maybe just annoyance.

“Uhhh… yeah? Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?” Adam grins at her like it was a dumb question to even ask. Because it was.

“You’ve been quiet for the past five minutes.” Her voice is even and factual. Arms folded behind her back, same still pose.

“And that’s not allowed? Jesus, can’t do anything these days.”

“It’s just not like you. You usually talk more.”

Yeah, he knows that. It wasn’t like he meant to space out. He was just… thinking. Adam grips his wrist, subconsciously wrapping his fingers around it. Not that it told him much—he had long fingers. But it soothed him to be able to wrap them around anyway, all the way. With space to spare too.

“What, you just wanted to hear my awesome voice? You can just say that instead of acting all—eughh… worried?” Adam sticks his tongue out in disgust. “Sooo not like you, freaks me the fuck out. Don’t. It’s cringe.”

Lute groans, rolling her eyes at him. Clearly whatever concern she might have had evaporated when he went back to acting normal again. Which was good. He didn’t need it.

He was so in the clear.

“… have you lost weight?”

Or not. What the f—

“What? No? Why?” Adam replies, extremely quickly too. A nervous laugh leaving him as he realizes how absolutely guilty he sounds. It was just a question, chill out. It was a good thing too, so why the reaction?

“Err… I mean, yeah I have. Just a little bit, I guess. Why are you even asking?”

“Because you look thinner, that’s why I asked.” Lute really never takes any shit, does she? Always straight to the point… Adam did like that about her.

“Thanks. I work for this body, you know?~” Adam raises an eyebrow as he smirks at her. He felt a little more happy, more confident. Nobody really commented on his body, well, outside sex.

“It wasn’t meant as a compliment.”

That cut his mood instantly. His smile dropped off his face as if it had never even been there at all.

“Excuse you? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He didn’t intend for his response to sound so defensive and angry. It just came out like that, and he couldn’t calm down. He wasn’t even registering that he should try to cool down.

Lute notices the shift, of course. Her eyes narrowing further at him, like she’s analyzing him. His behavior. Adam feels uncomfortable, which only fuels the defensiveness.

“I mean that you’ve been getting thinner for a while, I just didn’t see a point in bringing it up before now.” Hearing her say that frustrated Adam more. What did she mean she’d noticed? And hadn’t even complimented him at all!? Honestly, rude if you ask him.

“And why would you bring it up now then?” He asks, glaring a little.

“Because you’re starting to look unhealthy.” Her gaze is now very accusatory. Like she’s expecting him to give some sort of explanation.

“I’m sorry, unhealthy? Me? Don’t even—I’m hot as fuck! I’m peak fucking performance right here!” Adam laughs, it’s a little forced. Sounding more like he can’t believe this conversation is even being had.

“I’m not fucking unhealthy. I look great, the best I ever have as a matter of fact. How would you know what the fuck I look like anyway? My outfit is loose.” Now he’s the one narrowing his eyes at her. He knew she was perceptive, but he didn’t think anyone could really… see his body.

“I can just tell. What does it matter how?” Lute scowls, already getting fed up with him.

“It matters because it’s a fucking lie.” Adam didn’t think he looked bad. If anything he was happier with how he looked now then what he did before.

Lute scoffs, and stays quiet for a few seconds. Thinking to herself. Then she gets this look, like she just put something together. The expression on her face says it all about how she feels.

“You know it’s a sin to—“ Lute starts to speak, her tone cold, and Adam already knows what she’s going to say. Because she’s mentioned it before. That she thinks he’s weird for always disappearing for so long into the bathroom after he eats. Maybe she really had figured it out.

After all, he is eating like a pig most days, yet he’s losing some weight? Maybe nobody but her notices because nobody else cares to notice.

But he knows— she wouldn’t approve, she doesn’t seem like she’s about to approve that’s for sure.

So he cuts her off before she can finish.

“You know what? I’m done with this conversation. If you’re gonna be a bitch, I don’t wanna listen.”

He scoffs and stalks off. Frustration and anger boiling in his chest. Nobody had any right to tell him he was somehow not right, he was completely fine. Perfect even.

Despite telling himself this, all the feelings bubble and boil inside him. Going from his chest and settling in his stomach. Feeling heavy. Like the heavy feeling of a meal weighing him down like bricks, solid cement in his stomach.

He doesn’t want to feel like this. And there’s always one thing that makes him feel lighter. Better. Emptier.

Finding himself back in front of the toilet, on his knees. A common occurrence for him by now, his mask off to the side, on top of the sink. Blank face looking down at him as he shoves two long fingers all the way back into his throat…

Adam doesn’t know when it went from just a thought, to doing it. From only doing it when he overate on sweets. To only when he ate sweets and when he ate too much in a meal. To only each meal. To only… everytime he eats.

He doesn’t even have anything to throw up. As he gags and coughs, the back of his throat convulsing around his fingers as he presses down. Only pulling them out last second as he retches, when stomach acid burns his mouth and spill out.

Only once is never enough, of course. He always needs to make sure the bile is clear. That there’s nothing left. That usually takes a while, since he tends to eat a lot in one go. He’s gonna puke it anyway, so why not go crazy?

But it’s already clear. So why does he shove his fingers in again? Because that high hasn’t come yet? The feeling of euphoria he gets knowing he got rid of it all?

Maybe once he purges these uncomfortable feelings, he’ll stop. His stomach already feels lighter, cleaner. It hurt too, but it hurt in the best way possible.

It’s not before he sees speck of golden blood splash into the water that he stops. Not because he’s worried, he knows he will be fine. He’s an angel, he’s fucking Adam. He’s always gonna be fine.

Blood just meant he was doing it as right as he could… yeah?

He coughs a little. Hand wet with saliva, dripping down his forearm. He flushes the vomit and stands up, feeling much lighter then when he knelt down.

Looking at his reflection as he washes his hands felt like looking at a stranger at times. He rarely went without his mask… seeing his pale face staring back at him, eyes red and teary. Slightly puffy cheeks contrasting his thin hands. Golden feathers behind him looking dull, lifeless.

All he can think in that moment isn’t that he doesn’t look well, that maybe he’s not so fine. Because it’s not normal to do this, is it? Nobody else seems to do it here, if they do they aren’t talking about it.

No… all he can think about is how the puffy cheeks make him look fat. It makes him feel sick all over again, the only thing keeping him from punching the mirror is the fact he puts his mask back on before he gets overwhelmed.

But he’s fine. He always will be. Adam smiles, the holographic face staring back betrays no sort of turmoil he might be feeling deep down.

If he can’t see his own pain, then nobody else will either. He doesn’t want them to… he doesn’t want to.

“You got this. You’re fine, better than fine.”

Adam almost believes it himself. That’s all that matters right now. If he believes it, it’s true.

It has to be.

[motownfiction]

ferns

It’s been hard for Will to think about things to discuss with Elenore.

He’s not disappointed in her. He’s reiterated that more times than he can count. But beyond telling her that she didn’t do anything wrong, that she’s innocent in this, that it’s all Charlie, things Charlie shouldn’t have done, how much he hates Charlie’s guts now … it’s hard to find anything to talk about. Everything seems futile in the face of her unexpected pregnancy, of the impending birth of Charlie’s child. It sounds like a soap opera. Charlie’s child. That’s the kind of line that would have made Elenore laugh if it were happening to anyone else. But Elenore is so much like Lucy. They feel things quietly, personally, deeply. Will can’t make the jokes he would have made before. He can’t say anything he would have said before.

They’re back home in Michigan, visiting family and trying to get their bearings after discovering the news about Elenore and Charlie and the baby to be named later. Lucy urged Will to take Elenore on a walk around the neighborhood, just the two of them. Get their bearings between themselves, too.

I don’t want her to resent you, Lucy warned him.

Will keeps repeating the sentence over and over in his head as he walks beside Elenore – his baby, his first baby, the girl who changed everything. When they found out about her, she somehow twisted up the world a lot less, even though Will and Lucy were only sixteen. But here’s Elenore, twenty-one, soon to finish college and attend law school (Will is not budging on that one.), and the world feels like it’s been ripped into pieces. It’s not Elenore’s fault. It just hurts.

It has taken Will a very long time to accept that things can hurt without fault.

It’s been about ten minutes, and they haven’t said much to each other. They heard “Night Moves” blaring out someone’s car windows, and Will asked Elenore if she had a favorite Seger song, being half from Detroit and all. Elenore said it was “Still the Same.” That was the last time they spoke, and it was probably five minutes ago. Will puts his hands in his pockets and squeezes every muscle he can.

“Do you remember Sadie and Daniel playing that song at their wedding?” he asks.

“What song?” Elenore asks.

“‘Still the Same.’”

“Oh. No, not really. I remember drinking Sam under the table with Shirley Temples, though. That was fun.”

Will laughs. He remembers that, too. He’s not sure whose sugar rush was crazier that night, but considering all the time he spent on the men’s bathroom floor trying to get Sam to drink water, drink water, drink water, he knows whose sugar crash got the best of ‘em.

“Well, anyway,” he says. “That’s their song.”

“Ah.”

Quiet again. Will sighs. It never used to be like this. He and Elenore used to talk back and forth like nobody’s business. He couldn’t always keep up with her, but damn, if he didn’t try. But it’s like Elenore has slowed down, too. Like it would betray the situation to smile.

Will can’t let it just be that way.

He looks around at the houses on either side of him. Lots of plants. Some beautiful, like always, but some ugly, overgrown, or both. When he spots two ferns on some family’s front porch, he asks the question without thinking.

“How do you feel about ferns?”

Elenore exhales – something that’s supposed to be a laugh.

“What?”

“Ferns. How do you feel about them?”

“Daddy, where is this coming from?”

“The heavens. Maybe hell. I don’t know, kid. Just answer the question.”

This time, when Elenore gives a little laugh, it sounds a lot less like ordinary breathing. Will could praise the heavens just for that.

“I think ferns are a little annoying,” she says. “And by a little, I do mean a lot.”

“I don’t like ‘em, either,” Will says.

“Really?”

“Really. They seem stuck-up. I don’t like the name Fern, either. Sounds like a secretary who’s gonna pull a real power trip on you for something no one cares about.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“An amalgamation of them. But sure.”

Elenore’s laugh is more recognizable than it’s ever been. Will throws his arm around her shoulder and walks with her. They’re quiet again, but this is a different silence.

Will feels like he can breathe through this one.

(part of @nosebleedclub june challenge -- day 2!)

[samynnad102687]

Marauderstober

Oct 29th - James and Sirius - Halloween Pranks

1,327 words

James and Sirius were the biggest pranksters when they were in school. Just because they graduated didn’t mean that they had grown up enough to stop their pranking, it just got a little harder to get away with it. Not that they really try to, it’s not like they can’t get detention for their pranks anymore. 

James and Sirius were lying on James’ couch, trying to come up with what they should do while their husbands were at work. They had already watched a movie and eaten way too much candy that James was sure Regulus was going to yell at him for later if he found out. Sorry, when he found out. Who was James kidding? There was no if when it came to Regulus finding out shit.

“You know-” Sirius started and James sat up. He knew that tone well. It was his mischievous tone. “We haven’t pranked anybody in a while. I think it’s time to see if we still have what it takes. Don’t you think?”

“What kind of pranks do you have in mind and how long would I be sleeping on the couch when Reggie finds out?” James asked curiously.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to do the pranks, he just needed to know the level before he eventually said yes. Sirius looked up from his spot on the couch and they both knew that James was going to say yes, regardless.

“Couple days, maybe, if he finds out.”

“You know there is no if with Regulus it’s only when,” James corrected him.

“Yeah, I know. I still haven’t figured out how he does that either.” Sirius shrugged as he sat up straight and stared at James. “Are you ready?”

“Always,” James said with a smirk that screamed mischief.

“Okay, so here’s my plan-”

Sirius told James his plan and it sounded like a fun plan. They planned on hitting everybody so that nobody felt left out and the severity of the prank would depend on the person or couple. James and Sirius grabbed their phones, keys, and jackets before slipping on their boots and heading to the shops to pick up supplies. It took them an hour to get everything and to start setting up.

The first stop was Lily and Pandora’s flat. James knew that both of them were at work still but he had an emergency key to let them into the flat. Would it get taken away after this? Possibly. James and Sirius had set up a remote-controlled snake in the living room that was connected to Sirius’ phone and they hid a camera on the mantel to capture their reactions when Sirius turned it on.

The next stop was Barty and Evan’s flat. James and Sirius took clear plastic wrap and blocked off a few of the doors in the flat including the front door on their way out. After that, James and Sirius hit up Dorcas and Marlene’s place. James had rigged it so that every time they opened a new door, a bucket of fake spiders would fall on their heads.

Sirius had set up a prank for Remus and James had set one up for Regulus. They didn’t tell each other the specifics of the pranks for their respective husbands but Sirius did mention something about Remus’ shampoo. James knew better than to even think about touching Regulus’ hair care products. He still wanted to live, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, Mary and Peter were out of town visiting their parents for the holiday, so they couldn’t prank them like they wanted to. Everybody’s pranks were set to go off all at the same time and James couldn’t wait to watch their reactions on his phone. He was fully prepared to sleep on the couch if Regulus got too upset by them. But honestly, Regulus knew who he married so it shouldn’t be a surprise. Plus, all of the pranks were harmless. Nothing like what they used to do in school. They would need to plan more the next time they feel like doing this.

James was sitting on his couch again, watching a movie when Regulus came home from the bookshop. From his demeanour, it seemed to have been a pretty slow day. Regulus came in and gave James a quick kiss before heading off to put his bag away in the bedroom. When he returned, Regulus sat down on the couch next to James and let out a sigh of relief and James was confused.

“How was work?” James asked curiously. 

“It was fine, we just had to do inventory and that was a bitch. At least we didn’t have a lot of customers come in today,” Regulus replied before staring at James with curious eyes. “What did you do today?”

“Oh, umm, Sirius came over and we watched a couple of movies. That was about it.”

“Uh-huh,” Regulus started before giving James a knowing smirk. “So whose idea was it to prank people then?”

And that was just annoying. James knew that Regulus would figure out that he was out pranking people with Sirius but he didn’t think he would figure it out before he actually got to prank him.

“Who said we were pranking anybody?” James asked innocently.

“Please, your face said it all plus I found the rat under the bed.” Regulus shrugged as he handed the remote control rat back to James. “My guess is that it was Sirius’ idea and you both hit up everybody’s houses while everyone was at work.”

“Seriously, how do you always know everything?” 

“You can’t fool me, Jamie. You never could so I don’t know why you keep trying,” Regulus replied nonchalantly.

“One day. One day I will be able to pull one over on you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, dear.” Regulus laughed lightly. “Now if I know my brother and I know I do, where’s the video for everybody else?”

James stared at him for a few more minutes before giving in and pulling out his phone. He pulled up the camera feed without another word right as everything started to happen. First, Evan ran straight into the clear barrier when he opened the door and nearly fell back on his ass. Lily screamed when the snake moved across the floor. Marlene shrieked and swatted at her hair to get the spiders off. Once Evan and Barty got the plastic wrap off of their front door with a huff, Barty went into the kitchen and ran into the plastic wrap there bouncing off just like Evan did with the front door. Dorcas opened the bathroom door and had a bucket full of spiders and spider webs fell on top of her. Pandora found the snake and broke it. Sirius isn’t going to like that. 

When James and Regulus looked at Sirius’ flat, they found Remus coming out of the bathroom with bright red hair and a sour expression on his face. 

“Oh, he’s going to kill Sirius for that one. We were planning on taking a group photo tomorrow at work for Halloween,” Regulus said through his laughter before he sobered up and stared at James again, “You didn’t let him near my hair care products right?”

“No, I was in charge of your prank. Sirius had already gone home before I set it up,” James said quickly and watched as Regulus relaxed again.

“Okay. Did you eat? I’m starving.”

“Not yet, do you want to cook or order takeaway?”

“Let’s cook tonight. We’ve had takeaway three times this week.”

“Okay.”

Regulus stood up after giving James a quick kiss on the cheek and headed for the kitchen to find something to eat. It took less than a minute for the shriek to come from the pantry and James had to hide his laughter before Regulus got even more pissed off at him. 

“Jamie, could you come here please?” Regulus asked calmly and James knew he was in trouble. 

@cazzythefrogking @clementinewoolf @maladaptivewriting @lavenderhaze @literally-the-prettiest-star @thebibutterflyao3 @seiworf @emjayeingray @remusregulusrosekiller @heartsoncover @accuratewhereabouts @belowthestarrs

[thetaxicabber]

In the Shadow of Choice

Chapter 3

Her heart races in her chest as she looks at Sebastian. He’s taller than he was when they parted and he’s filled out. His shoulders are much broader. But his hair is the same and she longs to touch it like she used to. The angles of his face are sharper, more handsome. But it’s his eyes that startle her most. He’s always been so strong. He always supported her when she was sad. He looks so vulnerable, wearing nearly the same look he did that day in the Feldcroft catacombs. She parts her lips to respond, but she can’t seem to form the right words.

His sadness is evident and she did not expect it. When she left England, she thought he’d be mad. Furious with her even. They’d made so many plans when they were in school. There were so many unanswered questions between them.

Once she received that cursed letter she knew she had to travel on her own. Ancient magic is too unpredictable. Meeting another user was a risk she wouldn’t let anyone but herself take. It was agonizing to leave the way she did. It broke her heart but It ended up being the right decision and she would make it all over again. She’d do anything to protect her friends from what she’s been through. What she’s discovered.

She’s aware that the lead auror is approaching behind Sebastian and Ominis. He’s a large man with a sizable belly. She’s sure he spends more time drinking than catching Dark Wizards. The aurors certainly didn’t do anything when she was in school fighting against Rookwood and the ashwinders.

“You must surrender,” he tells her, acting like he has the authority to tell her to do anything at all. “I don’t care that you ended a goblin rebellion.” He sniffs the air in disinterest.

Aadan stirs next to her, fidgeting slightly. They’re both armed and ready for a fight as they always are. She knows this man is the exact kind that Aadan likes to make a fool of. She has half a mind to let him.

“I think not,” she spits the words through clenched teeth. Sebastian is still staring at her and she tears her eyes away from him, unable to bear the look any longer.

The lead auror’s brow crinkles, forming a line across his forehead. “You’re under arrest, Miss MC. You and your companion are wanted in several countries for the crimes of theft, assault, use of dark magic, breaking the statute of secrecy, apparition without a license, and murder. We’ll be taking you into custody to face trial.”

She keeps her expression completely blank as he lists out her alleged crimes. Most of them are completely accurate. She’s done everything that’s been accused. She has committed heinous acts. But all has been for a reason.

Seeing the expressions of Ominis and Sebastian makes her sick to her stomach. Ominis is horrified. Nobody loathes dark magic and its users more than him. He’s never going to look at her as a friend again. Sebastian appears confused. Though he shouldn’t be. He’s the one that taught her the unforgivable curses when they were fifteen. His gaze is darting between his boss and herself. She doesn’t let any of her fears show in her expression.

They really don’t have time to be lectured by some government workers. None of them know what they’re doing. Who they’re fighting. They don’t know what they’ve been through. What she’s been through.

A loud crack echoes besides her, sending all the aurors into defensive positions. MC doesn’t need to turn to know that it’s Maiba. She can sense her aura which is always gloomy though MC is used to it now. Her dark skin and black cloak make her appear very dangerous. No doubt that was her goal. She’s from a very old line of magic and she flaunts her rare skills and powerful bloodline. Not in the usual pure blood way I’d grown accustomed to either. They welcome others like half bloods into their line. It only matters that their family line can be traced.

Her coiled black hair is in thick braids. She’s still one of the most beautiful women MC has ever seen. Her eyes are narrowed to slits and her hand is raised.

It takes only a breath for this entire clearing to be surrounded by Inferi. Their moans and screeches don’t make MC shudder like they used to. Maiba has exceptional skill in Necromancy, among other spells. It helped MC get over her odd fear of them.

The aurors all begin to shout in alarm. Though the Inferi are relatively harmless. Maiba merely likes to show off. There are dozens and they’re creating a barrier with their bodies. It’s a very clear threat but one Maiba should have known better than to use such magic here. MC had warned her that people would not welcome her attitude in regards to them.

MC’s jaw ticks as she appraises the situation. This was the last thing that she wanted to happen. She didn’t want to return to England at all. But after what happened in Bombay they had no choice.

“Maiba,” she snaps, voice hard with a clear warning. “Knock it off!”

“Attack them!” The lead auror shouts. His round face is red with what she assumes is a mixture of rage and horror. Maiba has the effect on most people.

MC resists screaming her frustration. They really do not have time for this foolishness. As the aurors are raising to cast their offensive spells, she moves, springing forward with grace. Pulling on the ancient magic and lacing it into her curse. “Imperio,” she whispers and she watches each aurors eyes change to bright green as she seizes control of their will and their minds.

She’s not willing to cast the curse on the boys standing in front of her though. Sebastian and Ominis are unaffected by her curse.

Ominis is facing her and he raises his wand to defend himself. His features are twisted with rage and anguish. MC isn’t sure she’s even going to defend herself if he attacks her. She’s not willing to do harm to them. Those two were the most important people in her life.

Sebastian moves with astonishing speed. He clasps a hand over Ominis’ forearm, yanking it back to his side forcefully. “Do not be foolish,” he tells him.

This only makes Ominis angrier. “We are aurors!” His voice rings through the clearing. “Our job is to prevent dark magic and stop its users!” He turns his cloudy eyes onto her. He’s nearly unfamiliar with the look he’s giving her. “It doesn’t matter that we used to be friends with MC. She just used an unforgivable curse in front of us! On all our coworkers!”

She keeps her mask in place, not letting anyone see just how much his words wound her. She keeps the biting retort to herself. That would not help the situation.

Next to her she can tell Aadan and Maiba are getting antsy. They’ve all been on edge the entire journey to England. They’re tired and hungry.

Ominis has fallen silent, though Sebastian is still gripping his wand arm. His wand is pulsing its usual red light. She can feel his magic wash over her. It’s like a breath of fresh air compared to what she’s been dealing with. It’s familiar and it makes her homesick for her younger days.

“Please MC,” Sebastian once more has his eyes on her. She shivers, unable to help herself. “You have to tell us what’s going on.”

Aadan and Maiba both watch her. They’re probably shocked she didn’t curse them like she did the others. Usually that’s her move. Nobody can beat her Imperius curse. Her mind and her magic are too powerful.

Before she can even decide what to say, Poppy crashes through the trees. Her brown hair filled with leaves and her cloak is billowing behind her. She stumbles and lands hard onto the ground with a muffled cry. MC can hear the air knocked from her lungs.

“Poppy? Poppy Sweeting?” Sebastian blurts her name in shock. He and Ominis look just as shocked as they did when MC arrived. Apparently nobody knew Poppy had joined her. If the situation wasn’t so tense she might’ve laughed.

In a flash of white light MC is by Poppy’s side. Unable to conceal her worry she’s kneeling by Poppy’s side. Poppy is messy, but not in her usual manner of creature fur and mussed hair. There are scrapes on her cheeks and she’s breathing heavily.

“Poppy?” She calls her friends name, carefully grabbing her hands so MC can pull her up. She lets her eyes rove over her friend in search of injuries. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“He is here,” Poppy tells her, brown eyes wide with worry. “I saw him arrive. He’s not far.”

MC bites her lip, casting a look over her shoulder. Maiba and Aadan have steeled themselves. They’re both waiting for her to announce a plan.

“MC, what’s happening?” Sebastian questions her again. This time there is more force behind his voice. She’s never heard him sound so authoritative. Long gone is the mischievous boy she knew.

She helps get Poppy back to her feet. Poppy then recognizes the two former Slytherin’s and hurries over to them. Despite the horrible situation they’ve found themselves in, she smiles at them. She hugs Sebastian, arms around his middle. He returns the hug and upon releasing her she embraces Ominis who appears flabbergasted.

MC takes a deep breath, looking around to see if there’s any advantage to fighting a battle here. But it’s just a dirty cleaning in the forest. There are too many innocents here. They need to go.

With a hasty plan formed in her head she hurries back to the others. “Maiba gather the ingredients we talked about and meet us at the location we’ve prepared.”

She nods, lips turned to a frown. Maiba squeezes Mc’s arm, doing the only thing she knows how to provide her with comfort. With a loud crack she’s gone.

“Aadan you already know what to do. Be careful.”

“I’ll see you in a week or so,” he tells her cheerfully. He’s so optimistic, despite the task ahead of him. But she trusts him and this is a good plan. Aadan gives her a little bow and winks at Poppy before disapparating.

That leaves only her former Hogwarts classmates and an army of aurors behind them. Poppy blinks up at her, waiting patiently. She’s always the first at her side and the one that never questions her. She’s also the only comfort that MC has truly had in years. Poppy is her best friend.

With a shaky exhale she levels a cool gaze at the boys. “I’m going to use the curse to send all your fellow aurors away,” I tell them calmly. “Once they’ve apparated away I’ll release them from the influence of my Imperius curse.”

Ominis frowns deeply. He’s also so much older than he was last I saw him. He’s still thin but he’s tall. He looks healthy and as usual well maintained. She hopes he’s happy. She hopes everyone she once knew is happy. “How can we trust you!?”

“Ominis,” Sebastian breathes the man’s name quietly. His hand is gentle on Ominis’ back. They have the intimacy of close friendship still. MC used to have that with them. Now they don’t know her.

“I have no desire to control their minds,” she whispers to them. She hopes they can hear the sincerity in her voice.

Sebastian merely nods and she gives the aurors instructions. She tells them to flee back to the ministry and forget any of this happened. She orders the lead auror to get rid of any records of this event and all of them to go about their business as normal. They’ll have no idea how close they came to death tonight.

It’s the best she can do in this situation. They don’t have time to use obliviate on them all. There’s too many and time is running out. She trusts her magic to get it done.

“Now both of you need to leave,” she tells the boys. She hopes they can understand the urgency of this situation from her tone. They need to get out of here quickly.

Sebastian straightens to his full height. He’s over a head taller than her, she barely comes up to his collarbone now. His brown eyes are wild with desperation. “I’m not going anywhere. Please MC you have to explain what’s going on. Make me understand.”

He’s pleading with her now. Her heart breaks and she feels her expression fall. She can’t conceal that he’s getting to her even if she tried. “Please MC,” he begs her. “Please don’t walk away from me again.”

MC sighs in defeat. If agreeing to speak with them will get them to agree to run away from her right now, so be it. “Alright,” she whispers and his eyes brighten. She knows this is not ideal but she can’t say no to him. That’s why she left in the middle of the night five years ago. If anyone could’ve stopped her it was him.

“Poppy, take them to the safe house. The one we talked about.” The girl nods her understanding. Poppy and Maiba are the ones that set up their safe houses. They’re all over Europe.

Poppy has a pleased smile on her face. She’s been begging her to reach out to their former school friends since they ran into each other two years ago. If she didn’t know better MC would think Poppy planned this. Poppy gingerly takes Ominis and Sebastian’s hands in hers. They both dwarf her as Poppy is so much shorter, though she and MC are only an inch apart in height.

MC nearly stumbles as darkness assaults her magical senses. It feels like she’s being submerged in cold water. It’s so strong. A little gasp escapes her lips and Sebastian tilts his head to the side worriedly.

She raises her wand and turns from her friends, preparing to defend them. Nobody is going to get past her, not even him. Through the trees she finally spots him. He’s a cloud of impenetrable darkness. He’s hurtling this way, lashing out with dark magic.

“Go Poppy!” She hoarsely calls to her friends. They need to flee now before it’s too late. “Get yourselves away from here!”

“Good luck.” Poppy’s voice melts some of her anxiety. MC has faced this threat before and she’ll do it again.

There’s an audible crack and MC breathes a little easier knowing they’re gone. They are out of reach now and safe. That’s all she wants, is that her friends remain safe from what she’s about to face.

MC summons pure light from the tip of her wand and she surges forward to meet the darkness.

[lampmanliveblogs]

Hunter, you big softie! You did not just tell Flapjack you love him right in front of your worst enemy/best friend.

So Luz asked some of the questions I’ve been asking. How come there are seemingly two inner Beloses? Eda’s reply is that there shouldn’t be, but that she’s heard about strong emotion manifesting. So the purple child could be some important memory from Philip’s past manifesting itself. Since it was crying, I’m gonna go ahead and guess it was not a happy memory.

When you speak of the trolls, there he is, the purple child. That’s a pretty bad nickname, I should give him a better one. Child Philip? The Child? The Ghost of Philip’s Past? I like the last one, but The Child is easier to write, so I’m going with that.

The Child appears and is scared by Inner Belos roaring, seeking safety by Luz.

I keep pausing every time the shot changes even slightly to see if I can get a better look at the paintings. I saw one partial painting that looked like Philip and his brother going out for a walk, maybe exploring the woods or something.

More important is the painting in this shot. Someone is conjuring a purple flame in their hand. Philip’s brother is walking towards the person, curious, while Philip looks far more cautious. As loathe as I am to consider anything said by Jacob Hopkins as even potentially being true, he did mention that two brothers were abducted by an evil witch and brought to another realm. So the person whose hand is holding the flame in this painting is by all likelihood that ”evil witch.”

The way Darius just shoves Raine aside when he hears Hooty mentioning Hunter is just… It’s making me feel things. He really does care, huh?

Eda is working frantically to put together some way to reverse the effects of Raine, Darius & Eberwolf’s spell. And when you speak of the trolls, Raine, Darius and Eberwolf followed Eda, King & Flapjack back to The Owl House and are now trying to figure out what to do.

Raine was temped to follow Eda, but Darius held them back… until he heard Hunter was trapped too. Darius, you big softie!

Raine, this is no time to be funny.

Oh, and so much for keeping Eda safe and not getting her involved.

Meanwhile, back in the mindscape… The Child, Luz and Hunter find themselves in one of Belos’ old memories. This is clearly some time back during the Deadwardian Era in the 1600s, the same time period that Luz and Lilith visited on their time travel excursion. Several of the people in this small crowd were seen in that time period. It can’t be too long after Luz & Lulu’s visit either, since the little kid is still a little kid. Some time has clearly passed though, since Philip’s hair has changed (and he shaved), as well as his voice.

Back in Elsewhere and Elsewhen, we saw a white cape in Philip’s cape, so he was clearly already putting together his Belos costume. Here he also has a prototype for his magic staff, which I don’t recall seeing in that episode.

This is back in the day when Belos was still a nobody, trying to convince people he could communicate with the Titan. Which people were understandably skeptical about. But hey, this is exactly what I was asking for before, to see exactly how he managed to sell that lie to the people of the Boiling Isles.

[determinedwriter]

Whumptober 2023: Day 26: Working To Exhaustion/“You look awful.”

Ro

High school freaking sucks. I kind of knew it would, but I’ll admit I’m smart enough to push through. Or at least I thought I was.

Going to a STEM school makes everyone look smart. And they know it. Nobody knows I’m Tony Stark’s kid, so I’m just like everyone else. An average teenager.

I thought that’s what I wanted, but I think it’s almost making things worse. As far as anyone knows, I’m just some orphan. I suppose the same goes for Peter though. And he really is one.

I shouldn’t complain. But sometimes I wish I could unleash my powers on my school bullies and burn all of my terrible test scores.

I’ve been studying like crazy lately. Ever since I came home with a subpar grade on my latest project at school.

Dad acted like he didn’t care, but I saw the frown. I saw the look in his eyes. And when he’s disappointed in me, it feels like a stab to the heart.

Even if he doesn’t mean for it to hurt, it does. I think it hurts more when he lies and tells me it’s okay. I know he wants me to succeed. He wants me to be smarter than this.

Who wouldn’t want that? Especially considering he’s one of the smartest people on the planet. But my endless studying has begun to take a toll on me.

Friday chimes to life from the ceiling to speak to me. “Miss Aurora, your father is asking you to come to dinner.”

I look down at my textbook and notes. “Tell him I’m not hungry but…thanks.”

“Of course, Miss.” She replies.

I study until there’s a knock on my door. “Ro?”

“Hmm?” I ask.

Dad opens it. “Missed you at dinner. What’re you up to?”

“Studying.” I reply honestly. “Sorry I didn’t come to eat. I just wasn’t hungry really.”

He nods. “It’s alright. Make sure you get some sleep though. It’s a school night.”

“Yup.” I say. “Goodnight.”

Dad nods again. “‘Night, kiddo.”

I sigh in relief when he leaves. I’m exhausted and I don’t want him to see how much this school crap is killing me.

He deserves a kid that’s not going to flip out about the little stuff like I am.

But that’s not gonna happen, so I’m going to do my best to be who he deserves.

Working harder and harder as the days pass, practically killing myself in the process. I’m working myself to exhaustion.

The day of the big test I’ve been studying for, I can hardly make my way to my classroom. Peter notices this in an instant.

He supports my weight as I stumble in the doorway of the class, Flash making one of his very unnecessary comments. “Careful everyone, Ro’s a zombie. Don’t get bitten. Too bad she’s gonna fail this test with her lack of brains.”

“Shut up, Flash.” Peter says, helping me sit. “Ro, are you gonna be alright?”

Flash smirks. “What? I’m just saying. Zombies don’t have brains, right? Or at least they don’t use them.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t have energy for your crap.”

“Hence the zombie thing you have going on?” He asks. “I mean, you look awful.”

Peter glares at him. “Seriously dude, just drop it.”

I sigh. “It’s whatever.”

He rubs my back. “Do you need anything?”

I shrug. “No…”

He takes a water bottle out of his backpack. “Drink up. Just a little.”

“I don’t feel good.” I mumble back. “Thanks, though.”

Peter puts the bottle away, watching me nervously as our tests are handed out. Here we go. Time to either crush this or disappoint my dad once more.

“Your time starts now.” I hear the teacher tell us.

My hand shakes as I write with my pencil, the lead breaking as I press down a little too hard. God, I’m going to give myself a heart attack.

Peter notices this, silently handing me another pencil.

“Thanks.” I whisper.

He nods and gives me a thumbs up, going back to his own test after that. He’s smart as hell, but he’s probably stressed about it too.

Maybe I should’ve studied with him. I’ve been keeping to myself and doing that alone lately. It’s too late to worry about that now. Just get this done.

About halfway through the test, I can hardly ignore my dizziness and anxiety. People have begun to turn theirs in and I’m way too far behind.

God, what’s the use in studying if it just ends with me failing all over again? I’m really starting to panic now. It’s a good thing nobody knows I’m a Stark.

I shouldn’t have any association with the great Tony Stark. It’s a wonder we’re even related in the first place.

I hadn’t realized it, but my panic has become obvious now. Peter is touching my shoulder and my teacher is calling my name.

My eyes land on Flash, who laughs. I don’t know why this sends me off the deep end the way it does, but here we are. I’ve begun to hyperventilate.

“Aurora? Aurora, what’s the matter?” My teacher asks.

“I think she’s having a panic attack.” Peter explains. “Ro, just take it one step at a time. Breathe with me. Can you-“

I wobble in my chair, fainting before I hit the floor. I’ve literally worked myself to the point of unconsciousness. I didn’t think it was this bad.

My eyes open to see Peter’s face above me, carrying me quickly down the hallway. “P-Pete?”

“Ro, thank God!” He exclaims. “You scared me half to death.”

Still woozy, I don’t immediately understand why I’m his arms. “I’m…tired…”

“Try to keep your eyes open. Please.” Peter begs. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

I weakly nod, but pass out again shortly after that and wake up on a cot in the nurse’s office. This time, Peter is sitting beside me.

“H-How long was I out?” I ask.

“Only a little bit. I ran here with you.” He explains. “I think everyone was more surprised I could carry you than the fact you fainted.”

“Fainted…” I echo. “Why did I…”

“You’re exhausted and dehydrated.” The nurse speaks up. I hadn’t noticed she was in the room at all.

“Oh…” I reply. “I-I don’t feel well.”

“No wonder you don’t feel well, honey. Please, just rest for now. I’ve called your emergency contact.” She tells me.

“Who is that again?” I ask, knowing it’s not Dad. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t put his name on it for my own protection and privacy.

“Harold Hogan and Pepper Potts are the two we have listed. Mr. Hogan is on his way.” The nurse replies.

I hate to whine, but I’d really like my dad right about now. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” She says.

Peter holds out the same water bottle from before. “I’m making you drink some this time.”

I chuckle weakly. “Okay.”

Taking a few sips, I lay back down until Happy arrives, looking concerned. “Hey, kid. How do you feel?”

“Like garbage.” I tell him. “I really want to go home but I need to finish that test. I’ve already disappointed my dad enough. He needs me to-“

“I need you to take it easy.” Dad finishes for me, revealing himself in the doorway and entering. “I won’t have it any other way, you got it?”

“Dad?” I gasp. “W-Why are you here? You never come here.”

“Happy told me what the nurse said. You fainted. I’m not about to leave you alone. Even if you do have him and the spider kid here.” He replies. “You look exhausted. What happened, Ro?”

I gulp, replaying the past week or so in my head. I’ve hardly eaten, drank, or slept. “I just…wanted you to be proud of me.”

Dad’s face softens in concern. “Oh, baby…it’s okay. I’m so proud of you. Nothing will ever change that. I know you’ve been studying a lot lately but I didn’t realize you were practically killing yourself over it. This could have gone much, much worse.”

Hearing the scolding, I avoid his gaze by closing my eyes. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want to fail. I wanted to…I just wanted to be like you. I want to be smart and not even have to try and…and I can’t even do that without fainting in the middle of class.”

He sighs. “Well first of all, I don’t want you to do this ever again. I won’t have it. And second of all, you’re almost too much like me. You’re smart and you're stubborn. That’s what got you here. You put too much pressure on yourself. When was the last time you saw me get to bed at a reasonable hour?”

I shrug. “That’s different.”

“It isn’t.” Dad insists. “Having trouble with school doesn’t make you any less of a damn prodigy, kiddo. I don’t call you mini for nothing. Mini Stark. Thank God you’re not my clone though. You have empathy.”

“So do you.” I say.

“Not like yours. And yours is just natural. Effortless. I wish you had more confidence in yourself, but I’m glad you don’t have my arrogance. Even I can admit I have a big head.” He continues. “Though…I am a genius.”

Noticing I don’t laugh at this, he frowns. “I’m sorry, sweet kid. My point is…the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’re smart. And your struggles don’t mean you’re not. I need you to trust me on this.”

I slowly nod, hugging him. “I didn’t mean to not take care of myself. I just got so wrapped up in trying to make you proud…I wasn’t thinking. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize. You can come to me with these things alright?” He replies.

“Alright.” I say.

He wraps an arm around me and helps me stand. “I’ll have Happy take us home and you can rest, okay?”

“What about my test?” I ask.

Dad scoffs. “You’ll ace it. I’ll make sure you get time to do a make up test. Don’t worry.”

I lean on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’ve got it, micro.” He replies.

Peter speaks up for the first time in a good few minutes. “You’re a cool dad, Mr. Stark.”

“You know it, kid.” Dad teases. “Thanks for getting her here, by the way.”

He nods. “Of course, sir.”

Dad brings me to the car where Happy drives us home, making sure I get some desperately needed sleep and lots of water too.

Slowly but surely, I’m able to feel less anxious about test days. And Dad’s help is invaluable. He says I had it in me all along, but I credit him in helping me with my grades either way.

There’s nothing quite like a father-daughter duo.

Especially when they’re a couple of Starks.

We’re thick as thieves. And that won’t change as long as he’s by my side.

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Hey! I'm Ruby and I'm new here on Tumblr. I've known Becker and the Liver boys for years from watching the games a few years ago. Can I ask for a cool fanfic between Jurgen and Ali? Maybe something hurt/comfort, to start the year off right?

Glad to see a new Liverpool fan on here :) Here it is

New Year, Same Liverpool

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279

Warnings: OOC Mo, OOC Ali (though for a good reason)

Nobody ever listened to him.

Alisson smashed a bottle against his locker. The plastic canteen fell to the ground with a thunk that echoed around the locker room. He couldn’t care less.

Alisson was usually a quiet person, both on and off the pitch. He much preferred doing his job in the shadows than commanding everybody from the spotlight. He knew being vocal was important sometimes but it wasn’t for him, thank you very much.

Now he wished he was louder, scarier. He wished his teammates listened to him.

He’d sounded the alarm bells multiple times. He’d even taken to shouting, which hurt his throat, while organizing his teammates for setpieces. It was hopeless, because nobody ever took the time to consider if his words had merit to them. Nobody did—not Fabinho, not Van Dijk, not even Salah.

It was halftime.

They were 2-0 down at Brentford.

And for once in his life, Alisson Ramses Becker was mad.

He was mad at Van Dijk, who’d been nonexistent. At Nunez, for missing all those chances. At Konate, for scoring his own goal—even though Alisson knew he shouldn’t be.

One by one, the others bar Elliott, Tsimikas and Van Dijk filtered into the locker room. Alisson didn’t even want to face them, he was seething.

“Well…” Konate sighed. “That didn’t go as planned.”

You think? Alisson didn’t bother to say it.

Fabinho nodded. “We all played below our standards.”

He knew it was unlike him. But at this moment Alisson wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into Fabinho’s bald head.

We? There is no we. You played below standards. I saved your butts from being down by 6.

Salah shrugged, wrapping his towel around his shoulders. “Maybe you defenders should have listened to Virg. He’s the captain, after all.”

And where did THAT get us, Mohammed Salah? Alisson glared at the Egyptian, but he didn’t pay attention. As usual, nobody notices.

The bell rang, signaling that it was time for the second half. If Liverpool wasn’t goalless, Alisson would’ve sabotaged things so the match could stop.

Normally he would never think of doing that. But he was fed up with being ignored.

*

By some miracle, Alisson got his wish. Oxlaide-Chamberlain—of all people—halved the deficit with a header. Alisson prayed to every saint he knew for an equalizer, something to quell the foreign rage inside of him.

And then Brentford scored a third, right before the 90-minute mark.

This was getting ridiculous.

The final whistle couldn’t come soon enough for Alisson. He wasn’t even disappointed—just fuming at his teammates.

“What the hell, Van Dijk?!” he yelled at the Dutchman. Van Dijk, who’d been reading on his phone, nearly dropped it with surprise.

“Ali, do you have a fever or something?” Van Dijk scanned Alisson for anything suspicious. “Were you even talking to me?”

“Virgil Van Dijk, what the hell is that? What in the name of the devil do you call that? A performance?” he roared.

Van Dijk blinked in confusion. “I know we didn’t play well Ali, but—”

“WE?! The hell, there is no we! YOU played like absolute crap.”

Salah looked up from his phone. “That’s pretty accurate, actually.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on you, Mo,” the goalkeeper seethed. “You were absolutely shambolic out there. Even Ox played better than you today.”

“Really?” Salah shot back. “I can count at least five balls Ox missed. You didn’t do much better either, Ali.”

The world seemed to screech to a halt around Alisson. “Excuse me?”

“You could’ve saved the third goal if you tried, easily. If you’d spoken up you could have organized the defense.” The Egyptian didn’t even flinch as he said this. “Ali, I know you hate criticism—”

“What are you talking about?” At least Keita was on Alisson’s side. He stepped out of the showers, glaring at Salah. “You messed your own chances up, Mo. Ali had nothing to do with it.”

“Mates, MATES!” Robertson yelled from the bench. “You know the gaffer wouldn’t like this.”

Alisson glared at the Scot so hard, he shivered in his shoes. “The boss should be proud of me. It’s about time I got mad at you all for the nonexistent protection you give me!”

He stared at Tsimikas and Matip. “You two are absolute jokes, just like Virg. When will we get actual players who care about the game? Me, Lucho, Robbo, Darwin, and Caoimhin are the only ones here who give an iota of a damn about our dignity.”

“Like father, like son,” Fabinho whispered to Elliott. Alisson wanted to shoot a laser through him.

“Are you okay?” Robertson had the sense to ask. “You don’t usually yell like this.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. As if switching off a light, all the rage drained from his soul. One by one Alisson’s heart sank as he registered all the things he’d said to his teammates.

“Ali?” A hand rested on his shoulder, and another on his head. He couldn’t tell who it was. “Are you okay?”

*

He’d run away to a broom closet. After a whole display of rage-induced self-confidence, he’d ran away and hid in a broom closet as usual. How pathetic.

“Ali! Are you here?”

Great. Alisson groaned, facepalming. They told the boss I’m missing, and they probably told him what I said, too. He’ll be so disappointed with me.

“Ali?” The door began to open. “Tell me if you’re in here or not.”

“Present,” he said weakly.

The door opened fully, letting in all the sounds and light in the stadium. Alisson could still hear the PA system blasting Brentford’s anthem “Hey Jude”, which had been written and performed by the Beatles.

How ironic.

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Klopp, taking a seat on a bucket. “I just want to say, Ali: those goals were not your fault.”

“Mo thinks so.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because nobody listens to me, even when I speak up,” Alisson admitted, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so maldito quiet all the time, nobody hears me out even when I have something important to say.”

Klopp pulled Alisson into his arms. “I know just how you feel. Back when I was playing I was pretty quiet as well. When I became player-manager it took a while for them to listen to my verdict on things.”

“If I was like Hendo,” said Alisson, muffled by the gray puffer jacket, “maybe they’d listen to me.”

“No, this has nothing to do with you,” Klopp insisted. “The other guys need to learn to take you seriously during the matches. Just because you’re quiet doesn’t mean you don’t have valuable input. You could do better than some of those referees when it comes to the rules.”

“So can I yell at Virg if he doesn’t listen to me?”

This made Klopp laugh. “No, you can’t. But I will be having a talk with the others about listening to you. Your input is important Ali, and it especially will be if we’re going to make the top-4 this season.” He groaned, clutching his leg in one hand. “Now let’s get out of here, huh? My old legs are getting cramped.”

Alisson suddenly realized that his legs were cramping, too. He really needed to find better hiding spaces than broom closets. “Yeah.”

[calypso-finale]

Hundred One. Part 2

I am sat between Chris and Rihanna like these are my parents, it’s funny to me actually. How did this even happen and why am I sat between the two, especially Rihanna. Why couldn’t they put me next to Rylee but no, she is all the way across somewhere at this Dior dinner thing, I mean Chris and Rihanna aren’t here yet, but I am sat here looking at name cards, there is some big names here, but I do not care for them. These people do not faze me, they just normal people to me, I don’t let fame get to me or people in high places get to me “who would have thought my adoptive son would be next to me” Chris said, looking up at him “yeah, yeah. I was thinking the same” Chris laughed and placed his hands on my shoulders “spending time with your main” Chris is making me laugh “oh I am sat at the side of you” Rihanna said, “yeah I feel like a naughty school kid, you want to both sit together?” I offered, he hit the back of my head “nope, if I have to deal with Rihanna so can you” he sat down, I guess it will only be for a while “you really did well out there, you was you” Rihanna complimented “erm yeah, you mean with the walk? This guy said stop walking like you are in the ghetto, I said excuse me? Then he shut up, they wanted urban, they get urban” I shrugged “you looked well, I liked it. Chris was doing the most” looking at Chris “he is in love with me that is why aren’t you” Chris grinned “I can’t even deny it either, this kid is the one” Chris really does care for me “I think he forgets sometimes, but have you thought about the deal?” looking at Rihanna “erm, I have, and I am not saying it is a bad deal. I think you are going above and beyond with what you are doing, maybe too much?” she shook her head “no, it’s the right thing. Oakley this is globally, it’s not a small thing. Fenty is global, my name carries, you mention Fenty, and people switch. So when we do this, it will be a collab nobody is seeing, then because this will be something for the people, that you can go H&M and buy, it will sell out, it will be on demand. It will be millions, trust me. I know this, I am not stupid with what I am doing. You run Europe Oakley, you pose something, and people are jumping, they are watching, I need that. And like I said, family always comes first” some guy tapped his glass and stood up “just think” she said.

Chris leaned over to me “what happened to you and Wadz? I asked where you was at the show and he said fuck him” of course he did “I was in a bad mood and I may have taken it out on him, then we went back and forth, and he said a lot of shit. He spoke on everyone dying around me, so really he should apologise but his bitter ass won’t, but he is out here with me, like go home then. Fuck that” Wadz is childish “you both been bros, I don’t think you need to fallout over nothing, just both apologise. You know he rides for you” clearing my throat “yeah but like he knew I wasn’t in the mood, maybe I shouldn’t have said to him find your own life, but it happened, he needs to get over it or go home” Wadz can be annoying at times “what were you mad at” I sniggered “erm, women” Chris smiled “women, so Rylee. What she do now?” I threw my hands in the air “fuck, I don’t know now but it was between the fact I asked her to go out for a meal and she keep on saying she is busy, like to me it felt like rejection, it just pissed me off. Then she grabbed me just now and said look it’s not that, I am not busy for the people I care about, I don’t want to be my mother. Sorry, so yeah. That was it” feeling a tap on my leg, looking over at Rihanna “what are your thoughts on the deal” I chuckled “erm, it has to be after my tour. Right now I can’t be doing anything” Rihanna got her hand out “you’re family and I look after family” Chris sniggered “this is a cult Oakley, don’t let her trick you. The main busy woman herself is right next to you. Ask her how she never came home” Rihanna is adamant, she is frozen with her hand out “I will wait for after tour but there is nothing bad” she defended, shaking her hand “and that is how I became a billionaire by working nigga!” she said to Chris “mhmm yeah, I get war flashbacks from that shit” I guess that is a sore subject with these two still, but Chris is always laughing no matter what.

That meal is really just a bunch of rich people, take me to the local food place any day because that food was trash “whitey” Chris said and placed his arm around me “make it up with Wadz, he loves you and he won’t mean any harm by you, I am serious” Chris dragged me along to the drinks table “yeah but he should apologise too, he said hurtful shit” that hurt me “and he will, trust me. You started it by being mad over that. You know I will never do wrong by you, everything I say and do with you I mean well; I love you like that” we stopped walking and he turned to me “and I can tell you now Oakley, it’s a hard road when your partner is busy, something always has to give but I know my daughter. She went through a lot with things with Robyn being away, a lot. She saw it so I know she won’t do that, knowing her she was probably teasing you but think about it. You are lucky, you have her in London. I was in LA, and she was in London. Shit was horrible, so there positives and I want you to think on that. Both of you talk about it, and if it’s something you don’t think will work then say it too but keep it level headed ok” nodding my head “you made my wife a happy woman, she thinks she has won the world right now, I think to her this her making it up to you. She was being a shit person to you, and she didn’t see what I saw. A whole dumbass, I am joking but you are harmless, and she didn’t see that. I think she did a lot for no reason, but we move forward don’t we” nodding my head “anyways, about this after party? You going to it” nodding my head “just for a little, you performing aren’t you?” Chris grinned “yeah so you better be there, with me!” I laughed, I guess I got to stay a little longer now.

I love a good Chris Brown performance; this guy is too talented. Just like he wanted I am with Chris just stood behind him, turning to Wadz “I am sorry” I said to him “yeah I am sorry too” he said back to me “allow it” dapping him “you get me mad bro all the time, but I love you” smiling at him “I know you do” Wadz does love me a lot “where is Wyge?” I ain’t seen that guy “fuck knows, he just went missing” pulling a face, feeling a tap on my hand, looking down from the platform. Rylee side eyed me, and I just looked away, she swatted me. She wants to come up, holding my hand out to her and helped her up “ignoring me for?” she said “I wasn’t, where is your girls? Besides the gay one” I asked “Halle went back to the hotel early but Lillian is around somewhere, I thought all the fun is here” nodding my head “it’s always fun when drinking water” I grinned “you know what you’re right, you over your little tantrum” I pulled a face “what tantrum” Rylee laughed “you know what I am on about now” This party is wild though, like it’s camera flashes in your face that you can’t see the crowd “how come your mom ain’t here with your dad up here?” I asked Rylee “oh she don’t do this anymore; she only goes for vibes. So she will be in the corner somewhere” nodding “understandable” looking over at Chris “I’m gonna slow this shit down” Chris said down the mic, I laughed at Chris wanting to slow things down, he the only one to get away with playing songs in a party “he’s playing your favourite” Rylee nudged me saying, smiling as I didn’t look at her “you not going to sing it” I shook my head “that’s private, you know that is private” rubbing my chin “but you like this song, look at your smile” she keeps nudging me, looking over at her “you airing me out” she did it again so I wrapped my arm around her “I wanted to wrap you in my warm embrace and make it last forever. Girl, I catch a glimpse of heaven” I sang in her ear “ah really” she said making smile, pressing my lips into a hard thin line “mhmm” nodding my head “mhmm to you too” lowering my head to her ear “shall we go and get some ice cream or something?” She smiled, looking at her face “after this song” nodding my head “sing it to me” shaking my head “come on” she is making me laugh “I’m trying to hear your dad really” I pointed.

Making my way back over to the booth we are sat “guess what that guy said to me” passing Rylee some tissues “that I am getting my gelato now? They are taking ages” sitting down “yeah that but he said that they don’t like people that have their pants sagging, and that I need to pull them up” that guy is rude “and what did you do?” She asked “I said thanks and walked off, I don’t care what he saying, but they coming anyways. I thought you would have wanted to stay around at the party? All your rich friends” I am shocked really “and not spend precious time with a needy man” I chuckled “nah, you getting it wrong. I just spoke my mind” she rolled her eyes “you stormed off and then acted all butt hurt. Also like you been acting wild, how you upset six different girls in two weeks that they put you on blast” I laughed out “ah” I can’t stop laughing “it’s not funny, like you copied and pasted the same thing to each girl saying how boring they are and you don’t see a future with them, you’re rude Oakley” I sniggered “listen, they were pressuring for sex. Moving mad, like they wasn’t sane, I don’t care though, it was just a simple date and we split. Like I realised, they ain’t you as I thought” Rylee scoffed “well this is what I mean, you expected me to know how you felt? You do this every time, you don’t like to be real with anything. The reason why I was calm and let you do you was because I let you go so I had no choice, I let you do you so who am I to tell you what to do?” The guy came over “are you ok?” He asked Rylee “I kidnapped her, my guy why you acting like she don’t belong to me?” Rylee laughed “ignore him, I’m ok thanks. Stop” Rylee eyeballed me “you giving me weird look all this time, keep looking at me and I’ll show you” I pointed “Oakley!” Rylee grabbed my hand “if you need any help” he said to her again, Rylee gripped my hand “leave it, allow it like you said. Just stop, don’t mess up my gelato now” I kissed my teeth “they just see a classy lady and some ex hoodrat, just leave it now. Please” nodding my head “you called me a hoodrat” I just clocked “to them not me, Oakley I could not care less with how you are and how you dress. I’ve accepted you, so anyways. Ignore him and let’s just talk, you want some?” I shrugged “it’s nice you know, taste some” she held the spoon up to me “I was hoping I could taste what I paid for” Rylee scoffed.

Rylee pointed and paused “she belong to me, I was sat here thinking and thinking, I’m like I’m sure I heard that, Oakley look. I let you go, and you did you, I’m not mad at that but how was I supposed to know how you felt or what you wanted if you didn’t speak to me, you just expected me to know, I get you struggle with feelings but it’s me, you know me, and I know you. I’m grown now, well I like to think I am. But like I need to know” licking my lips “I know, like I don’t know. I wanted to give you space. You’re doing your thing too. And your prospering how I always wanted you too” Rylee poked her lips out “you know I thank every day that you’re still here Oakley, I feel like we maybe take life for granted. With everything that has happened, even me thinking back, I could have lost you, and to see you here with me. Like no matter what anyone says or thinks, you make me so happy. No other gives me that, like you had cancer Oakley and you’re here” putting my head down “yeah, I lived to tell the tail init, worst time of my life. I like to not think about it but then I get those moment and the check-ups but if it wasn’t for you seeing that, it could have been worse for me” looking up at her “I hate talking about the past but it’s something that happened, I really say this, and nobody will understand, and my mother even says it. I don’t deserve you” I smiled “my mom is like I wish I wasn’t so blind to it, but I just you know. I do miss you, but yeah” looking down “I miss you too, deep down I really do. Shit is lonely you know; it sucks because I miss that comfort. Just when I am at that moment something happens” I just realised Rylee’ hand is atop of mine “I have some major gossip for you, but I can only tell you tomorrow, if you let me take you out? Just a little something fancy” I feel the butterflies in my stomach right now and I have not felt this ever in my life with any other girl, she is stroking my hand, I am tensing up “you make me nervous you know, I can’t lie” I laughed “I can tell on your face but that is fine, but what is this gossip? Tell me” shaking my head “that is for tomorrow, but like be there yeah, I mean I will message you the details, wear something fancy, I will too. Meaning a clean tech fleece” Rylee chuckled “I expect nothing less from you, one day I will see you in a suit, I may cry” I chuckled “I will cry myself, that means I am getting married so yeah, come let’s go” I said to her.

The driver is with us but he is driving behind us slowly as we walked a little “it’s cute around here, how you know about this?” I shrugged “bro, I googled it. The bonus is that is looks nice” Rylee sniggered “figured, makes me so sad that Aziel is growing up. I want him to be a baby again, now he is bad. Like I am forever telling him no, he forever making sure he makes my life hard too. He is four, but he might as well be ten, the way he acts. When I took him to a meeting of mine, it made me laugh he said to everyone what’s up G. I had to say yeah he got that from his dad and cringed. You think he could be in the bad crowd? Like I don’t want that” chewing on my bottom lip “it’s something we won’t know until he is older, you can go to the best school and you sill be in a gang but while I am around, I won’t be letting that happen. I know he sees that gang culture with me, and I know he gets the mannerisms from me but when we took him abroad we was teaching him manners, hand on my heart I don’t want that, and I will do anything I can for that to not happen but kids, they can be sly. Like I see him growing and I want to stop taking him on the block and hanging with the guys but I know they love seeing him and he enjoys it, I don’t know. It’s hard really; you never know” I said, Rylee is so comfortable with me and I love that. Her arms wrapped around my arm as we walk “I just feel London is perfect but I also fear that you can get caught up in gangs, one thing I noticed about London is that you can be in someone’s territory so quick, even if you are in the rich ends, the bad sides is just there” nodding my head “unless moving outskirts of London and that adds to travel time to get into London, that is always a thing” I gestured “I guess it’s something to think of really, but tell me the gossip” I knew she would be wanting to know “tomorrow, don’t worry about it” she makes me laugh “we can talk really this time, feelings” I groaned out “hush up!” She spat “I am playing” I mumbled “we can discuss things, properly too” I like this calm Rylee, she is very light hearted “so will this be extra romantic? Because I’m not ready for that” I shushed her “I don’t even know right now, but be there” she laughed out “that is such a you thing” I will figure something out.