#graveyard groom ad

[bunny-j3st3r]

Graveyard groom - GG (Gay goat)

I wanted to do a head tilt on this one but it wouldn't cooperate lmfao

[nekros-is]

My @goatlings OC!

LingeringVeil is a Graveyard Groom AD goat✨

[goatlings-stims]

Graveyard Groom stimboard!

x | x | x

x | x | x

x | x | x

[cornedbeefhashtags]

Not to be nostalgic for the platform that led the charge on monetizing and enshittifying every square inch of the internet, but it’s strange to look at my own Facebook—a profile that I spent the better part of a decade using on an extremely regular basis—and feel like I vanished from the face of the earth in late 2019.

[purgemarchlockdown]

This is an extremely niche post but uh- milgram characters but goatlings.

Honestly for most of these choices I'm still on the fence but I have been thinking about it.

Haruka- Forgotten Friend:

Yuno- Changeling

Fuuta- Epic Gamer (Or Knight)

Muu - Rosemary Moth

Shidou- Graveyard Groom

Mahiru - Patchwork Plush (or Love Letters...really most of the Sweetheart ADs work)

Kazui - Spring Gentleman

Amane - Lily of The Valley

Mikoto - Sweet Nightmares (Or Crow Monarch...or Memento Mori)

Kotoko - Rose Prince

[slasher-male-wife]

Halloween slasher event: Graveyard date with Candyman

Welcome to day four of the slasher Halloween event I have lined up for y'all. I'm writing these out of order a bit because I need to try and write anything before I run out of time so sorry if some of these are a bit rushed. It's currently the 10th of September so let's hope I can get these done. Reader is gn.

Warnings: Well it takes place in a graveyard so there's that, a little strong language, minor injury to reader

It's a cloudy day October day and you're bored out of your mind. You've got a few days off work but nothing to do. Your mind turns to your boyfriend, Daniel as you like to call him. You find Candyman to be a bit childish and somewhat rude but he doesn't seem to mind much. You hear the sound of your mail falling through the slot on your door. You get off your couch and go to grab it. You look through the letters as you walk to your kitchen. Letters from your bank, ads, junk mail mostly, but you get to a black envelope, sealed with red wax with the imprint of a bee. The letter has your name written in cursive on it.

You smile and open the letter.

My dearest Y/n, I'd like to offer you on a date tomorrow. A lovely walk in an old graveyard along with something to eat while we're there, a picnic of sorts. I've missed you dearly since you've been so busy with your job. I thought that this would be much more of a romantic way to ask you to join me. I remember you talking about your desire for love letters and such months ago. The graveyard is old and not near many people so we won't have to worry about intrusion. It's Grey's graveyard off of 13th street. I was thinking you could join me at 11. l I do hope you'll join me my beloved. You always know how to reach me. With much love, Candyman.

You smile and press the paper to your chest in a cliche way but you don't care. You have a date with your lovely boyfriend. You know he'll take care of the food too. All you have to do is get dressed up for him.

When the next day comes you're sure to groom yourself well. Showering, doing your hair, and picking out a lovely outfit. You went with something more romantic but still gothic. Black and red are your colors. A red button up shirt with ruffles, a black jacket and black pants to match. You put on shoes you can comfortably walk in but still not too dressed down. The graveyard he'd mentioned is a bit of a drive but you don't mind at all. You get in your car and make your way over. Butterflies fill your stomach as you draw closer and closer to the graveyard.

You walk to the enterance of the cemetary and look around for your boyfriend. You don't want to call out his name. You feel like you can't speak here at all. You've been to a graveyard a few times to visit distant family who've died. Great grandparents, second cousins, great aunts and uncles, but it's always so off putting not knowing who or what lurks in these areas.

"Hello," A deep voice behind you says. You jump a little at the scare and turn around to look at your boyfriend. He's dressed as he always is but today it seems so much more romantic, "I'm glad to see you my love."

"I'm glad to see you too. Shall we?" You ask holding out your hand for him to take. He takes it and joins you in walking further into the graveyard, "How long have you had this planned?" You ask looking at all the dried up flowers on tomb stones of those who pasted. All of them seem to be at least 20 years old.

"I've always wanted to take you somewhere. I've always wanted to show you the beauty that comes with dark things. It is sad when someone passes, for some that is. Death is natural, we should not fear it."

"Easy for you to say," You tease, "But I understand trying to find beauty in the darker parts of life. Sadness can bring beauty, death can bring beauty. I just feel awkward being here."

"It's normal to feel this way. But I implore you to focus on the moment, not the setting." You nod and continue to walk between the tombstones. You catch Daniel up on your life and job. What's been happening and so on. He listens and asks questions. Always happy to hear what his partner has to say. eventually you reach a blanket and a basket laid out in a larger grassy area away from the tomb stones. You smile and look over at Daniel.

“Oh darling how sweet,” You two sit together on the blanket and you open the basket you find your favorite cake, plated, and silverware waiting for you. You also spot a small jar of honey. You smile and take out your slice of cake, “Don’t you want some too?” You ask noticing there’s only one slice.

“I’m quite fine my dear. I don’t need food to live. I’ve gotten this just for you.” You smile and lean over to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you Daniel,” You plate your cake and drip some honey onto it. You take a bite and smile, “This is amazing. How’d you make this?”

“Well I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You chuckle and continue to eat your cake. You spend the next few hours sitting on the blanket with him, just enjoying each others company on this lovely October day.

[rattlingmycage]

If we talking fucked up implications lore. Like. IDK about anyone else but Karlach specifically hit me because (to me, not saying its canon) she was groomed by Gortash and her anger after killing him got me so bad but it was so catheric this game. man.

I've played through that ending twice now and both times I teared up like a little bitch. Her delivery, her sheer anger, the fucking flames engulfing her when she ends with "sold me to the devil." Ugh. KARLACH.

Idk if you took her to the graveyard yet but if you do, she talks about how her folks died when she was young and how if they'd been alive they would have immediately keyed in on Gortash being a fucking vulture. And even if Gortash wasn't being sexually exploitative, forming a relationship with some impressionable young kid so that you can manipulate them to do illegal shit on your behalf is still grooming.

Personally I like to think he wasn't, just because, errr, even I have limits on what *kind* of nasty I can take from my villains before I start wanting to viciously maul them to death lol (cue the principled villain gag of Gortash being like "I may have committed war crimes but I have ✨standards✨."). But that's entirely just me wanting to avoid my own kneejerk reaction and not evidence-based.

Karlach's whole story is so tragic and it makes me all the more sad that she's basically doomed in every path, but I hear that they may be adding another ending option for her in the next patch, so hopefully we get at least SOME closure for her.

[atsumus-left-tit]

sakuatsu graveyard fic idea | immortal!omi -

Mentions of death, no one dies

The Sakusa graveyard has been around for centuries, each grave evenly space and well groomed- but one look would show only 1 grave is added every 25 years or so.

A worn diary in the abandoned church holds stories of every Sakusa to have lived. A "family" cursed with loneliness, always finding adventure but always alone.

Until one day the diary entries stop and the last two stones are placed together: M. Kiyoomi and M. Atsumu.

Aka - immortal!omi likes to bury his identities with a memory, a treasure from that life. After spending years alone, he finds Atsumu.

[itemsofgoatlings]

Sneak peak from r00p and Krisgoat in the discord!!

" One last thing here's a sneak peek of this years Princess Gift, as well as a couple color variants that will be added to the VIP shop! "

" Top is Ribbon Romantic, Middle is Ribbon Mummy and Graveyard Groom And bottom row is Mothirella, Cinnawitch, and Nightmare Eater! "

[tornfeathers]

Sketch of my Jarlath and his crow friend.

Yea this is goatlings fanart. I’m in love with the graveyard groom AD

[heckling-hydrena]

now for a bit of goatlingsposting because we're in the middle of the only actually interesing event: I've gotten 4 graveyard groom ads from the mascot boxes so far 😎 I want us to win and get the fusion so bad but the redesign drama might have demoralized the team. I have hope though

[goatlingsvent]

its crazy how much of an upgrade all of the designs that were changed due to copyright are. i was looking at graveyard grooms old design compared to their new one and the old design was not that good lmao. same with the crybaby ghost and botanist ads they just look so much better after the redesigns

📢

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

January 17, 2023

GOODBYE JOE, YOU SHOULD'A KNOWN, ME-OH MY-OH

Classified documents discovered over the MLK holiday weekend in a birdcage at President Biden's beach house has thrown the White House into a tizzy. The top secret papers were promptly delivered to the National Archives, bird poop and all, along with Biden's vintage 1967 Corvette convertible that had been employed to spirit them away. Spokeswoman Karine Jean-Pierre said the president is cooperating fully with authorities in hopes he can get the car back quickly. “It's kind of like a security blanket,” she told reporters, adding, “they can keep the birdcage.” Upon hearing the news, former president Donald Trump said, “Hypocrite, hypocrite, na, na, na, na, na.” The controversy is bad news for Attorney General Merrick Garland, who can't very well prosecute Trump without investigating Biden, too. It all adds up to one political cluster (expletive deleted). So it's King's X for Trump — that's the good news. The bad news is it will rob him of a lot of publicity — the kind he needs to rile up the red-hatted MAGA militias who have gone to ground since Trump disciple Kari Lake vanished in Arizona. Meanwhile, Biden continues to whistle past the graveyard repeating the same old tune: “I'm not Trump.” But maybe something else would be more apropos, like “Knockin' On Heavens Door.”

“AS ST. GEORGE TURNS,” THE ROM-COM OF DRAG

The atmosphere may be burning up, there's horrendous flooding, endless drought and fires beyond control. But in St. George they've got real problems — drag shows. This could get dicey. There are F-bombs and C-bombs and who knows what all. It all started last fall when HBO staged “We're Here,” a drag show in Town Square Park that drew some 1,400 onlookers. KABOOM! Satanic worship, cried some. Grooming children, cried others. Cute outfits, whispered some. The dust devil turned into a whirlwind that became a tempest in a teapot. Then the LGBT Student Association at Utah Tech hosted a drag show of its own. What is the world coming to. This isn't New York City where sin is like a plague. This is St. George, Utah, founded by nice, Mormon people who believe women have a special place under God's heaven and they didn't mean hairy men in fishnet stockings and sparkly heels. Who are you going to call — a crisis manager, of course. He will give perverted progressives a taste of their own medicine, with F-bombs and C-bombs and nastiness. Oops! Backfire! Maybe fighting drag shows with profanity isn't exactly the best way to go. After all, one of Brigham Young's sons was a drag queen, Madame Patterini. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of “As St. George Turns.”

LYING IS NOT ILLEGAL — MAYBE

Hey Wilson, what's the big deal with George Santos, anyway. Everyone wants him to resign from Congress. So what if he told a few lies when running for a House seat from Long Island. No big thing, everyone on Long Island lies. Kevin McCarthy, the new speaker of the House, doesn't care if Santos fibbed about where he went to college and grad school. Getting an education can be a hindrance when trying to think. Kevin McCarthy knows that all too well. Santos may have prevaricated a little about being the grandson of Holocaust refugees. But he didn't say he is a Jew, Santos said he is “Jew-ish.” Get it. He's actually Catholic. But who cares and besides Kevin McCarthy needs his vote: without it he wouldn't be speaker and going forward the GOP holds only a nine-vote majority in the House. And hey, Lying isn't illegal. Is a Burger King Whopper really as big as it is in the ads? Did Bill Clinton have sex with that woman? Did Saddam Hussein have “weapons of mass destruction.” The Washington Post counted 30,573 false or misleading statements by Trump during his presidency. George Santos has got a lot of prevaricating to do to catch up or even be seen as a decent liar. But as long as Kevin McCarthy and the GOP need him the country will be better off. And that's not the truth, either.

Post script — That's a wrap for another wet week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of the Utah Legislature so you don't have to. Na, we try not to pay attention to those people —.not good for mental health. But hark, they may adopt a new state flag this session. Very important! And then there's the culture war stuff: get down on transgenders, get down on abortion, get down on restricting guns and bring in ice from the North Pole to fill The Great Salt Lake. We can't come up for air until March 3 — or maybe ever. Republicans in Congress are playing the old “we're going to save taxpayers” ploy by making sure the IRS doesn't have needed manpower. The House GOP just stripped $71 billion in funding from the agency. In 2010 more than 21 percent of tax returns reporting more than $10 million in income were audited, according to the GAO — that dropped to 3.9 percent by 2019. In the coming decade the federal deficit will grow by $100 billion in lost tax revenue. And finally this from our “News You Can Use” file — The Deseret News reports when it comes to bagels, Utah doesn't cut it. According to Lawn Love, Salt Lake City is ranked 122 and West Valley is 190th. Lawn Love, it turns out, is a lawn care service. Is this a great country, or what.

Well Wilson, poor old Joe Biden is up to his ankles in quick sand. What's up with the way the White House deals with classified documents. Now, it's the Republicans who are licking their chops. Christmas may have come late, but boy did it come. So get the band to put down their 1040s and play something for Old Joe that he can hum past the graveyard.

Twas in another lifetime one of toil and blood When blackness was a virtue, the road was full of mud I came in from the wilderness a creature void of form "Come in," she said "I'll give you shelter from the storm" I was burned out from exhaustion buried in the hail Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail Hunted like a crocodile ravaged in the corn "Come in," she said "I'll give you shelter from the storm" Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount But nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts And the one-eyed undertaker he blows a futile horn "Come in," she said "I'll give you shelter from the storm" In a little hilltop village they gambled for my clothes I bargained for salvation and she gave me a lethal dose I offered up my innocence, I got repaid with scorn "Come in," she said "I'll give you shelter from the storm" Well I'm living in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line Beauty walks a razor's edge someday I'll make it mine If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born "Come in," she said "I'll give you shelter from the storm"

(Shelter From the Storm — Bob Dylan)

[monstersfear]

fold like a marionette // emilio & silas

TIMING: current. SUMMARY: silas arranges to meet andreas in the graveyard, and invites emilio along to enact their plan to get rid of the older zombie once and for all. things go poorly when silas has second thoughts. PARTIES: @fermataheart & @monstersfear CONTENT: grooming tw, emotional abuse tw, attempted murder tw

There was a time and a place for most things, but this was neither the time nor the place for Silas to be having second thoughts. Wearing too few layers for the weather, the zombie sat stock still in the snow, perched on the edge of the large stone slab as it began to collect on his head and shoulders. His breaths produced no puffs of condensation, neither warm nor life-giving as they were. Just a habit he hadn’t been able to break yet.

“O filos mou,” came a voice from the darkness, the sound now grating against his ears. Lifting his head, Silas peered out between the headstones and towering trees to see the faint outline of Andreas as he approached, growing clearer by the moment. Pushing himself off of his seat, Silas shook away the snow that had accumulated on him, finding that he recoiled the closer Andreas got, until the back of his legs met the cold stone.

“Really, a graveyard?” Andreas chuckled warmly. “That is so… you.” The smile he wore made Silas sick with guilt, and for the briefest of moments, he forgot that Emilio was laying in wait just out of sight.

“It’s quiet,” Silas muttered, dropping his chin as the other grew close and pulled him into an embrace. Dark eyes fluttering closed, the younger of the two hated the way he felt comforted and assaulted at the same time.

“You are right about that,” Adreas hummed, pulling back to look at Silas, hands still braced against his shoulders. “So, you wanted to talk about the job? How did it go?”

“It—” Silas swallowed his words, struggling to hide his nerves as his gaze darted quickly to where he knew the slayer was hiding. “It… was difficult.” Andreas clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“My love, of course it was. It was your first time! Don’t worry, it’ll get easier with practice, I promise.” Silas shivered despite not feeling cold, searching Andreas’ face. Maybe they could settle this without violence, maybe he could convince him that it wasn’t the right path?

“Andreas, I don’t like it, I don’t want to—” He was silenced as the elder zombie pressed a hand to his mouth, head whipping around to investigate their immediate surroundings. Finally his gaze fell back on Silas, and he looked both frightened and angry. Silas’ heart sank.

“Who did you bring with you?” he snapped, stepping away from Silas and letting his gaze dart around the dark space. Fear gripped Silas, and suddenly he regretted ever having brought Emilio into this.

“Wait,” he pleaded, more to Emilio than to Andreas, to whom he had lifted an outstretched arm. Gloved fingers reached for his lover as he battled his own inner conflict and begged his feet to move. “Don’t—”

—

The snow fell in a way that was almost tranquil. Between the soft layer it added to everything and the relative quiet of the graveyard, the night felt almost peaceful as Emilio sat behind a large stone, waiting for Silas’s companion to arrive.

The graveyard was a good place to do it. There was a hint of irony to it, in a way, a hint of humor that Emilio didn’t think Silas had intended. Graveyards were where corpses belonged, after all. The man Silas was meeting tonight should have been under the dirt a while ago, and he’d earned his place there with a vengeance in everything he’d built. A cult-like group of people who’d probably started out not unlike Silas — anxious and uncertain, doubting every order they were given but unsure how not to follow them all the same.

Emilio would feel good about killing this man. The world would be better for it.

His eyes were closed where he sat, though they opened lazily at the sound of a pair of footsteps crunching through the snow in the distance. Emilio listened, heard the low murmur of conversation. He didn’t tune in to it, didn’t try to figure out what was being said because it didn’t matter. Whatever Andreas was saying now, whatever lies he was feeding to Silas, it wouldn’t change Emilio’s goal here. He hoped it wouldn’t change Silas’s, either, hoped he’d managed to get through to the zombie if the hit Andreas had sent him on hadn’t.

But then, something shifted. Emilio could feel it, the sudden chill in the air that had nothing to do with the weather. His hand gripped the blade he’d brought along with him, sharp enough to sever a man’s head from his body with little effort, and he stretched himself into a ready position.

The gig was up. The element of surprise was abandoned. He might as well do the polite thing and introduce himself.

Emilio pushed himself to his feet, closing the distance between himself and the two zombies, blade outstretched. “You don’t gotta stick around for this part, kid,” he said, giving Silas a brief nod. “I can take it from here.”

—

Silas’ dark eyes were wide with horror as they darted between Emilio and Andreas. I can take it from here. Of course his imagination went wild with all the scenes that could play out in this graveyard, helped along by the threatening brandishing of Emilio’s knife. He heard a low growl emanating from Andreas, like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner, and it startled him. The man’s handsome face was contorted into a vicious snarl, and a sharp, humorless laugh pierced the tension in the air.

“What the fuck is this?” he looked from the threat to Silas, eyes narrowed. Silas expected rage, but was more shocked to find that the zombie was… laughing? Andreas’ cold gaze fell upon Emilio, to whom he gave a little nod of his head. “Hey man, listen, I don’t know what this kid’s been telling you, but he’s, y’know, a little funny in the head—” the zombie began, which immediately ignited Silas’ own fury. With the two still in a standoff, the youngest of them took an angry step toward Andreas.

“Fuck you,” he snapped, trembling hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Aida told me all about you.” Obviously Andreas was a bit preoccupied with making sure Emilio didn’t make any sudden moves, but he managed to spare a glance in Silas’ direction, somehow still looking condescending in spite of his nerves.

“Please, Silas, don’t tell me you believed her. You knew her all of, what, five minutes? And I have been by your side for how long?” Silas faltered in his accusations, realizing that Andreas was right. She could have said anything—she would have said anything—to get out of being killed. Of course. Silas had caught her off guard and she’d lied her way out of it.

With realization dawning on his features, he turned slowly to face Emilio. “Hang on, hang on,” he breathed, moving as if to stand between the two. “Emilio, I think I had it wrong, I—” He glanced over his shoulder at Andreas, who gave him an encouraging nod. When he turned back, of course, he could not see the wicked sneer that quickly appeared on the older zombie’s face. “Maybe we can—do we have to—” He was clearly at a loss, just trying to stave off any violence with his outstretched hands.

—

There was a moment where the whole world held its breath. Emilio was looking at Andreas, Andreas was looking at Emilio, Silas was looking at the knife like he hadn’t known this was coming. A lot of things hinged on what happened next, and Emilio was ready for a fight. Emilio was always ready for a fight.

He wasn’t ready for laughter.

The sound had him tensing, teeth clenched so tightly together that his jaw hurt because he hadn’t accounted for this, and he’d never liked things he hadn’t accounted for. “You can save the bullshit,” he growled lowly. “I’m a slayer, si? I know what you are just by being here.” There were no misunderstandings. Emilio knew that, could feel the undeadness radiating off the zombie.

But, apparently, Silas was still a little confused.

Emilio turned towards his companion, brows furrowed together as he suddenly began to backtrack, began to change his tune. “He sent you to kill someone,” he pointed out. “He sent you to kill someone, and he’s going to do it again. You said you didn’t want that, kid, so which is it? You’re okay with being a murderer now? Because that’s fine by me, too. No skin off my back if I take the both of you out here.”

But being outnumbered wasn’t something he’d counted on here. He hadn’t expected Silas to help him with the physical part, hadn’t even wanted Silas to be a part of that because he would have only gotten in the way, really, but if Silas teamed up with Andreas against him? The odds of Emilio making it out of this fell.

But Emilio was nothing if not stubborn. Foolishly so, from time to time. “I came out here to do a job, Silas. I’m gonna do the damn job.”

—

Andreas, emboldened by his success in slowly dragging Silas back to his senses, straightened his spine and stared Emilio down with a newfound sense of superiority. “Yeah, you’re a slayer, amigo. That’s fucking rich, you hear that, Silas? The killer is going to judge you for defending yourself against other killers.” He let out another laugh, taking a step toward Silas. “That’s all they are, agapi mu… it is kill or be killed. People like your friend here–like Aida—will never let us live in peace.” He gave the younger zombie a hard stare, all amusement falling away from his face. “Choose the right side.”

Fuck, they really weren’t going to make this easy, were they? Emilio was clearly hell-bent on murdering Andreas, which was seeming like less of a good idea by the second. The older zombie had a point. He had a lot of really good, compelling points. It was fine for Emilio to kill Silas in cold blood at the mere suggestion that he might defend himself against a slayer in the future, when he’d never eaten or seriously injured anyone? Who was he to be judge, jury, and executioner?

But also, Silas knew Andreas was manipulative. That much had been made clear to him, the more he spoke about his experiences with people like Milo. He knew their relationship was not a healthy one, but the compulsion to protect Andreas had been so deeply ingrained in him over so many years…

“Why… why do you get to decide?” Silas challenged Emilio, softly at first. “What makes you any better than us?” He certainly lacked the backbone of his counterpart, meekly confronting the slayer on his morals, knowing that he’d absolutely die for good by the man’s hands if he were alone. Andreas sensed this and took another step forward, placing himself beside his hesitant disciple. “Step away, Silas. I will handle this,” came his low growl, his body lowering into a stance that begged for a fight. Nervously, Silas obliged, backing up against the mausoleum once more. The weight of the firearm that Andreas had given him weeks prior became more pronounced by the second, hidden from sight. He wouldn’t use it unless it became absolutely necessary, of course, but… fuck. Fuck, this sucked.

—

Andreas was a slimeball, clearly intent on dragging Silas down with him. It was an old story. Emilio had seen it thousands of times, among zombies and vampires and humans, too. One person wanted to be better, wanted to get out of a life plagued by bad decisions and pain that they were either internalizing or passing on to someone else. And another wanted them to stay, because misery loved company, or because they needed a lackey to do what they didn’t feel like doing themselves, or because they couldn’t get out and didn’t want anyone else to either, or any other reason that they’d use to justify dragging someone else down with them.

Emilio was fucking tired of it. Especially right now.

This was supposed to be an easy gig. Take out someone who desperately needed taking out, get Silas out of whatever deal he’d made with Andreas that had him going to people’s houses like a goddamn hitman without a paycheck, go home and have a drink. It should have been over by now, but Emilio’s life so rarely went according to plan. He glared, looking as pissed off and irritated as he felt.

“I’m not here to argue with you. You don’t get to claim any kind of moral high ground with me. Maybe I’m a killer, but so are you. And you’re the one sending people to break into people’s homes, kill them when they’re not expecting it, letting someone else do your dirty work. If I were like you, I’d have taken you out before you knew I was here.”

It was clear that Silas was wavering, if there’d ever been any chance of him taking Emilio’s side at all. The most Emilio could hope for, at this point, was that the kid would turn tail and run without making Emilio’s job any harder. He didn’t want to kill Silas. It was something that almost surprised him. The kid really seemed like someone who’d just gotten himself in too deep, and he hadn’t hurt anyone yet. There was still hope for him, still a chance. But if he attacked… Emilio only knew one way to defend himself. And if it was kill or be killed, Emilio knew which option he preferred.

“You decided,” he pointed out, looking back to Silas. “You’re the one who put him on my radar. Told me he was a bad man, told me he deserves to be taken out so that other people could be safe. So that you could be safe. I’m here doing what you asked me to do, kid. Nothing more, but nothing less, either. You might change your mind, but that’s not me. He’s right. You should step aside. Go home. You’ll be better off when this is over.”

—

Silas could finally feel the rage seething from Andreas when Emilio outed him—while he had obviously been the one to tip the slayer off, the cherry on top of the shit pie was said slayer telling his abuser that he’d basically admitted to being terrified of him.

If Andreas made it out of this alive, there would be hell to pay.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he insisted from his relatively safe distance. He couldn’t—he had to see how this ended. If Andreas killed Emilio, Silas had to know.

He stuffed a hand in his jacket pocket, hand closing around the pistol’s grip.

If Andreas won, Silas had to—

“Enough politics,” the older zombie hissed, breaking his train of thought. And just like that, it had begun. There was a flurry of movement as Andreas lunged for Emilio, taking great care to avoid the deadly blade in his hand. He was much more practiced in hand to hand combat than Silas, having had centuries to perfect it, and would prove a difficult foe for the slayer.

Meanwhile Silas, who was watching the fight with an intense feeling of dread, could not decide who he’d rather see die. No one, ideally, but that felt unlikely. Any time Emilio managed to get a wounding jab in with his blade, Silas sucked in a frightened breath. He couldn’t help but think about all Andreas had done for him; taking him in, loving him, giving him exactly what he’d been craving—a sense of belonging. A sense of purpose. Family. But then he would catch a glimpse of that bloodthirsty rage on the zombie’s face as he gnashed his teeth at Emilio, ready to tear him to shreds… All the things Milo and Aida had said to him would come rushing back, and he had to believe it was true. He had to. Milo wouldn’t lie to him, right? No, but maybe it wasn’t lying. Just because he was wrong didn’t mean he was lying, he just didn’t know any better. He’d never seen Andreas the way Silas had seen him, hell, he’d never even met the guy.

The battle continued, and still Silas couldn’t decide who to root for. He felt sick. He just wanted this over. Please, god, let it be over.

The absence of a pounding heart in his chest to match his level of anxiety was disturbing, making his head swim and his ears ring.

Please, just… someone, anyone, just—

—

Maybe it was a dick move, confirming that Silas was the one to tell Emilio where to find them. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it. Whatever was going on between Silas and Andreas, it was clearly more complicated than Silas had initially let on. But Emilio fully intended on killing Andreas here, anyway, so it didn’t matter in the long run what he knew and what he didn’t. Maybe the fury in his eyes would wake Silas up, remind him that he’d been afraid enough of this man to invite Emilio to take him out.

Or, maybe it wouldn’t.

Maybe Emilio would finish dealing with Andreas and be forced to deal with Silas, too. Or maybe Silas would kill him to save the man he’d been so afraid of, or maybe he’d kill Emilio after to avenge him. There were a lot of maybes here and, in the moment, not many of them mattered. Because Andreas was lunging at Emilio, and the only thing that mattered now was the fight.

Emilio dodged the first blow, slashing out with the knife and catching Andreas in the arm. It wouldn’t be enough to slow him down, and Emilio knew that. Hunters were at a disadvantage in most fights, because while it took a very specific method to kill most of the things they found themselves up against, hunters themselves were fairly easy to take out. All Andreas had to do was break the right bones, cut the right arteries, and Emilio would bleed out in this graveyard with no one but Silas knowing why. And if he wanted to stop that happening, he’d have to take off Andreas’s head.

It was easier said than done.

Emilio got in some damn good blows. A stab to the gut, a slice across the chest, knuckles bruising against ribs. But Andreas got in a few of his own, too. An elbow to the nose, a knee to the gut, a kick to Emilio’s bad leg the moment the weakness made itself known. Emilio had teethmarks in his shoulder, on his hand, in his arm. Some bled sluggishly, others were shallow enough only to bruise. They all hurt like hell anyway.

After what felt like ages, Emilio managed to gain the upper hand, He twisted Andreas’s arm and swept his legs out from underneath him, and the two stumbled together and fell with Emilio on top of the zombie, blade against his throat. Emilio flashed a bloody smile, pushing the blade down hard enough to draw blood. “Looks like I win,” he said. “I’d say better luck next time, but I don’t think there are going to be any more do-overs. End of the…”

There was a click behind him, quiet but familiar. The safety of a gun being switched off. Emilio froze, feeling Silas behind him. “Kid,” he said quietly, “you really don’t want to do this.”

—

“You’re right,” Silas croaked, holding the pistol with both hands as he aimed it at the back of Emilio’s head. “I don’t. So don’t make me.” Drawing a ragged, unnecessary breath, Silas sidestepped until he could see Andreas pinned beneath the slayer, who immediately met his gaze. He seemed as shocked as any of them, but gave the younger zombie a slow, affirming nod.

“There’s a good boy,” he muttered, letting his eyes flick back to glare up at the slayer that straddled him. His frown curled into a shit-eating grin, teeth bared viciously. “Looks like you spoke too soon, amigo.”

“Get up,” Silas barked, taking a step closer and moving so he could better see Emilio’s hands. “Drop the weapon and get up.” Once the slayer had done as he was told, he stared down the barrel of the gun, held by trembling hands.

“Go, get out of here,” came another command, this time directed at Andreas. His elder, while not overly fond of being bossed around, didn’t hesitate to pick himself up off the ground. Silas didn’t even look at him, his attention fixed solely on Emilio as he held him in place with the handgun. Andreas leaned in close, whispered something in Silas’ ear, and walked away like it was nothing more than a lazy Sunday afternoon stroll.

“Good meeting you, Emilio. May you find peace in the next life,” Andreas added flippantly as he disappeared into the darkness.

Silas waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard, the wall that was keeping in his immensely conflicted emotions cracking and crumbling more with every passing second. His brow was knitted, lips downturned in a pout as he fought the urge to cry, knowing no tears would come.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, though he did not lower the weapon. The apology sounded genuine in spite of this, and the zombie took a step backward. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-I couldn’t—you were gonna to kill him, I couldn’t let y-you do that.” He knew how asinine it sounded; he’d been the one to give Andreas up, after all, and here he was defending him. He couldn’t help it, it was instinct, at this point. Always protect Andreas. Never let anything happen to Andreas. The family is nothing without Andreas.

“This was a fuckin’ shit idea, I’m sorry, I fucked it all up, I don’t—” He continued to back up in the direction Andreas had gone, panic lacing his words. “I don’t know what happened, I—”

His shoulder bumped into a thin, scraggly tree, startling him from his mental loop. He blinked a few times, finally lowering the pistol. There was a pregnant pause, and the zombie looked ready to bolt.

“... should have let you fuckin’ kill me in that alley,” Silas groaned, as if realizing it for the first time. “I’m sorry, I’ll—I’ll figure this out. Sorry.” The last apology was delivered on a strong exhale as he turned and ran, abandoning their plan and perhaps his only chance to get out of this whole ordeal alive.

—

For a moment, Emilio didn’t move. His eyes burned into Andreas’s despite the gun at his head, his knuckles white around the grip of the knife in his hand. Then, Silas moved around to the side, gun flashing in Emilio’s peripheral, and he blew a frustrated exhale through his nose. His fingers loosened on the knife and he raised his hands, allowing the weapon to clatter to the ground as he lifted himself off Andreas.

On his feet now, Emilio finally tore his gaze away from Andreas to focus the glare on Silas instead, fire burning behind his eyes. “You’re gonna regret this, kid. You can trust me on that. Guys like that won’t change.” He tensed as Andreas spoke to him again, nostrils flaring. It took everything he had to stay rooted to the spot, to keep himself from diving for the knife and catching a bullet in the back. “The next life, huh? Yeah. You first.”

And then Andreas was gone, footsteps disappearing into the night, and Emilio was alone with Silas and a gun. His jaw twitched, anger barely contained as he stared passed the barrel in favor of looking Silas in the eye, glaring daggers. “You told me to kill him,” he reminded him. “Said you wanted to do what was right. This? This isn’t what’s right.”

For a moment, he wondered if Silas was actually going to shoot him. He probably ought to, all things considered. But Silas started stumbling back, the gun lowering as he moved, and Emilio let his hands drop. Emilio knew what was going to happen a beat before it did, took a faltered step forward just before Silas took off.

For a moment, Emilio paused. He could go after the kid, might even catch him in spite of his bad leg and the injuries sustained in his fight with Andreas. But then what? He still didn’t want to kill Silas, in spite of everything. And with how pissed he was right now…

Well. Anger management had never been his strong suit.

Sighing, Emilio watched the kid go until he disappeared, then turned back to retrieve his knife from where he’d dropped it. “Yeah,” he said to the empty cemetery. “We’ll try again later.” If he lived that long. Given his new position on Andreas’s shit list and the zombie’s apparent fondness for sending assassins after people who pissed him off, that was probably in question. “Fuck,” Emilio sighed, sheathing the knife.

So much for trying to help people.

[maddrmatt]

A Beautiful Future: A Premonition or a Punishment?

New to this fanfic? Click here to properly begin!

Greetings, readers and fellow SoKai fans!

Time for a certain Princess of Heart to take the spotlight in this story!  

Fair bit of warning though, I sort of used this chapter to showcase a few headcanons and speculations regarding the future of the series.  

Also, there’s a little challenge within this chapter that you can take on if you wish.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 3: Writings of a Princess

Land of Departure

Dear Sora,

I know it’s been a while since I last wrote to you.  I haven’t really had anything really important to tell you since I came here.

Now something incredible has just happened and I had to tell you first before anyone else.  But before that, here’s a few updates on what’s been happening on this side of reality.

I’m still training hard.  No offense to Merlin, but I think I’m getting way better with my Keyblade training under Master Aqua than him.

My days here at the Land of Departure are filled with learning various fighting techniques or improving my magic skills.  And to test them, I often spar with Aqua, Terra or Ven.  One day, I might even get a perfect score against one of them in our matches.

All of three of them and Chirithy have been very good to me. They’ve really made me feel like part of their family.

But as great as it’s been with them, they’re no true replacement for everyone back home.  I miss everyone:  Mom, Dad, Selphie, Wakka, Tidus, Riku, and you.  Especially you.

Sorry, Sora.  It’s just so hard every day knowing that you’re trapped in that fictional world.  I really wish I could’ve gone there with Riku to save you.  But after being out of action for a year and the fact that I couldn’t even land a single blow on that memory of Xehanort, I knew it was the better choice to stay behind and train even if I didn’t like it.

I really hope Riku finds you soon.  We’re all so worried about both of you.  Since nobody really knows anything about this Quadratum place, we’ve all thought Riku was a little hasty in just taking off there alone.

We still haven’t heard anything from Mickey yet either. Hopefully, he’ll come back soon from Scala Ad Caelum, and he’ll have found something we can use to help you and Riku.  Until that happens, all the rest of us can do is wait.

Anyway, time to tell you the real reason for this latest letter, Sora. And you are not going to believe what it is.  I can hardly believe it myself.

Last night, I had a dream.  It was actually the first dream I’ve had since I came to the Land of Departure.

Not that I’ve minded not having dreams just in case they ended up being recreations of my worst memories.  I’ve already watched you vanish twice.  I don’t think I could bear to watch it happen again in my dreams.

But the dream I had was nothing like that at all.  It was of a wedding, Sora.  Our wedding.

It was an amazing sight.  It was in this gigantic chapel that looked like it was in Radiant Garden, and it was filled with all your friends from around the worlds.

Many of our fellow Guardians of Light and closest friends made up our wedding party.  It was hardly a surprise to see Selphie as my maid of honor or Riku as your best man.

You looked so handsome in the suit you were wearing.  And judging from the stunned look on your face when you saw me coming down the aisle, I must’ve looked pretty beautiful to you.

It was truly incredible, Sora.  It felt so real and so wonderful.  I wished it never ended.

But, unfortunately, as it is with dreams, we all have to wake up eventually.  And when I did, the happiness I felt ended up giving way to other emotions as I reflected on the dream.

First of all, I felt a little confused.  As good as that dream was, I couldn’t help but wonder why I had it at all.  I mean, wouldn’t you find a little strange to have a dream about a wedding especially since we haven’t even had our first kiss yet?  It’s kind of rushing things a little.  

But don’t get me wrong, Sora.  I know, deep down in my heart, how we truly feel about each other. I wouldn’t have shared that paopu fruit with you otherwise.  And when the time is right for it, the idea of getting married to you is something I will embrace wholeheartedly.

So, I thought more about the dream and believe it or not, I started to think that it was not merely just a dream.  I wonder if what I saw was our future.  It definitely did feel like that since there were so many unfamiliar parts in it.  

For example, I had no idea there was a tradition in Radiant Garden weddings for the bride and groom to crown each other with symbolic flowers.  Then again, I could have known that if the knowledge came from a memory from when I lived there.  Maybe I attended a wedding there when I was young.

But what really stood out to me and made me believe that this could be our future was the many unfamiliar guests.  I knew that because I’ve been studying the details of your last two journeys from Jiminy’s Journal and the Gummi Phone.  And even though the Journal of your first journey was erased (Naminè’s still really sorry about that), I still remember everything about it from being in your heart through it all.

So, I was able to recognize who you had met and who were strangers. They were far too numerous to mention. But here are some examples that really stood out to me.

A tall woman with long black hair wearing a tan colored dress and a beautiful turquoise necklace with a raccoon, a dog and I think I saw a hummingbird flittering around her.

A pair of robots, one yellow and box-shaped, the other white and cylindrical, who were holding hands.

A couple that consisted of a redhaired woman and blonde-haired man who appeared to have some kind of hairless rodent on his shoulder.

A teenage boy and girl along with a younger boy and a company of animals such as a bear with gray fur, a panther, an elephant with a tuft of brown hair and a quartet of vultures.

A large family that appeared to be a mix of humans and skeletons along with a very colorful winged dog and a giant winged cat.

A boy with red hair (whose head looked triangular) along with another boy with green hair and a bunch of other teenagers as well as some kind of strange teal animal that looked like a cross between a duck and a beaver and a man with brown hair, poor posture and wearing a lab coat (who wears that to a wedding?).

A princess dressed in a beautiful green gown accompanied by a prince in a green suit with a blonde woman dressed in pink, a short old woman dressed in white and wearing sunglasses and a snake around her shoulders as well as an alligator who was carrying a trumpet.

A very unusual group consisting of two men and a woman with blue skin and pointy ears along with a dog-sized dragon, a centaur, and a winged lionlike creature with horns and a scorpion’s tail.

A girl with bushy brown hair among what appeared to be a family of giant frogs.

A woman dressed like she was some kind of islander with a burly man with numerous tattoos (I think I saw one of them move) over his body along with a pig and a chicken that didn’t look very smart.

A family who seemed to be some kind of royalty consisting of a princess in a simple green dress with long curly red hair along with three identical boys with the same kind of hair, their big, strong father with a peg leg and their very elegant mother.

A boy and a girl who looked like they were twin siblings who were accompanied by a pair of old men who looked like twins as well.

A redhaired boy in the company of a group of what looked like various human-sized bugs.

There were so many more, but I think I’ll stop here.  With the large number of guests at this wedding, I could go on listing them for a long time.  But it does seem there’s a lot more friends for you in the future.

Unfortunately, while I was mulling over the dream further, a horrible thought came to me.  I started to wonder if the dream, as beautiful as it was, wasn’t meant to bring me happiness at all because it was actually showing the future that we could have had but now would never have.  And the true reason of it was to punish me for my failures in the fight against Xehanort.

I know you wouldn’t like to hear this, Sora.  But there are still days where I can’t help but feel responsible for your disappearance and think that if I had made some different choices, you’d still be here.

I know it was my choice to fight alongside you because I wanted to keep you safe the same way you’ve always done for me.  But looking back, I now see it was foolish to assume that my training alongside Axel would turn me into a Keyblade wielder on yours or Riku’s level. And it was probably an even worse idea for a wielder with very little actual battle experience to go from basic training to a high stakes battle with nothing in between.

We may have been desperate to stop Xehanort before he went after the New Seven Hearts especially since he had already assembled all his darknesses. But we probably could’ve and should’ve explored some other options instead of going to fight the Organization right away after you woke Ven.

Since Ienzo told us that they had a replica body ready before we even left for the Keyblade Graveyard, we could’ve gotten Roxas or maybe even Xion out of your heart before the fight.  In Axel’s words, they were the old hands when it came to Keyblades.

We also could have made a bigger effort to find and save Terra first even if our chances were pretty low.  That would not only have gotten us a more experienced wielder, but it would’ve also lowered Xehanort’s ranks by one.

Maybe if we had done things that way, we would’ve had more experienced Keyblade wielders to fill out the Seven Guardians of Light.  And even if it would be disappointing to be put in the reserves, it would’ve been worth it if it led to you being safe.

So, those are the reasons I believed that dream was a punishment. But you’ll be glad to know, Sora, that I only entertained those beliefs briefly.

After thinking it over some more, I decided that it didn’t matter what that dream’s purpose was.  Comfort or punishment, I’m going to actually use it to serve my own purposes instead.

I’m going to let it remind me of what my ultimate goal is and drive me to be the best Keyblade wielder I can be.  One that’s going to make the forces of darkness think twice before causing trouble and one that you and Riku will be proud to have fighting alongside you.  And hopefully, that will lead us to a future like the one in the dream or at least one that’s pretty close.

In fact, after seeing that dream, I think I may end up actually proposing a couple of ideas to Aqua and Master Yen Sid.  I’ve been thinking about them a lot and maybe now is the time to try to put them into action.

Since I need to get some real battle experience to become a stronger Keyblade wielder, I’d like to go on a journey throughout the worlds to gain some. Hopefully, Aqua will think it’s a good idea.  And even though there’s been little sign of the Heartless and Nobodies since Xehanort’s defeat, there is one thing I really wish to do.

I’d like to try to find and identify the remaining three of the New Seven Hearts.  After all, who’d better to find them than someone who’s part of the same group?  And if we knew who they were and what their home worlds were, we’d be in a better position to protect them if someone tried what Maleficent and Xehanort did.

Who knows?  Maybe all those unfamiliar faces at the wedding were not only friends you’ll make on future adventures, but ones I’ll make on my own adventures.  Maybe even the remaining New Seven Hearts were among them.

I also have an idea that may be able to help in the quest to bring you home. If Fairy Godmother could bring me back to the Final World, I could talk to that girl from Quadratum again.  She may not be able to remember certain things. But she might be able to tell us something about that world that could help.  

Naminè might even be able to help with this plan.  Even if you only met that girl briefly, that may be enough for her to be considered connected to you and therefore, Naminè’s memory powers can work on her.

Hopefully, the Masters will think that these are good plans.  I really want to do any part I can to not only help bring you and Riku home, but also to protect the worlds as both a Keyblade wielder and a Princess of Heart.  After all, with you two gone, someone’s got to pick up the slack.

Well, I think that’s enough for now.  It’s nearly time for breakfast and then it’s training until lunch.  But before I go, there’s just one final thing I’d like to say.

Whether that beautiful dream shows a wonderful future that is meant to be or not, it doesn’t matter.  Because the only kind of future I’ll ever wish for is one in which we’re safe, we’re happy, and we’re together.  That’s all I really need.

See you soon,

Kairi

________________________________________________________________

Much later, the training hall in the Land of Departure was filled with the sounds of clashing Keyblades and various shouts of magical invocation.  While those sounds were nothing uncommon in that location, there was an unusual intensity that day.

As Aqua, Ven and Chirithy watched, a heated sparring match was taking place between Kairi and Terra.  But much to their surprise, the more experienced Keyblade wielder was actually struggling as the young rookie was keeping him mostly on the defensive.

“Wow!  Kairi’s on fire today!” exclaimed Ven.

“She is, indeed,” concurred Chirithy.

“Well, she has improved a lot in her skills since she came here.  But you two are right.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this driven before,” said Aqua.

“You’ve got that right, Aqua.  If she lands one more hit on Terra, this’ll be the first time she’s won by a perfect score,” said Ven.

As the match went on, Terra blocked blow after blow from Kairi.  Then, strangely, she ceased her attack.

Terra saw his opportunity and charged toward her with a downward slash. The Princess dodged to the right narrowly avoiding the hit.

“Light!” she cried out as she fired a small but powerful Light spell at Terra’s side.  He grunted as the magic struck him and knocked him off his feet.

“Point to Kairi,” declared Aqua.

“That’s three to nothing!  Kairi wins!” exclaimed Ven as Chirithy clapped its paws together.

“Well done, Kairi,” said Aqua.

“Thank you, Master Aqua,” Kairi said as she walked over to Terra and helped him up.  

After exchanging bows with each other, the Princess of Heart said, “I hope that didn’t hurt you too badly, Terra.”

Terra chuckled.  “Not at all.  It helps that you’ve learned how to restrain your magic during training.  But I’ve got to say, Kairi that I am impressed. That’s the first time since you’ve come here that I’ve been unable to land a single hit on you.”

“You’ve certainly come a long way, Kairi.  Today, you showed some truly exceptional skill and strength.  You should be very proud of yourself,” said Aqua as she, Ven and Chirithy approached.

“Well, I’ve had a good teacher and some great sparring partners.  But I think it really helped that when I woke up today, I just felt a little extra drive,” said Kairi.

“Yes.  We noticed,” said Aqua.

“Why is that exactly?” asked Chirithy.

A certain smile came to Kairi’s face which caused her four friends to exchange knowing looks.  They had spent plenty of time with her by now to know what exactly brought out that special smile of hers: thoughts of a certain someone close to her heart.

“I had the most amazing dream.”

________________________________________________________________

Notes from the Mad Doctor:

I thought the best way for Kairi’s spotlight chapter would be to do in the style of one of her letters to Sora.  I’ve used it before as readers of my big fic Kairi’s Epic Journey would know.

So, in case it wasn’t obvious, the challenge I mentioned at the start is that list of unknown guests.  It was quite a challenge to write all those characters by description alone.  I hope you all will take a shot at identifying them. Some are pretty obvious, but some may be a little more difficult.

I hope I did a good job in trying not to make this chapter’s narrative too similar to the previous chapters.  I actually tried having Kairi leap to the punishment notion before the premonition notion.  But unfortunately, the flow didn’t work right.

Fortunately, the views on the punishment notion are a little different. Sora has absolutely no regrets for what he did and believes that he’s being unfairly punished for breaking rules he had no idea existed.  Kairi, however, believes her punishment is deserved since she blames herself for what happened to Sora.  Fortunately, both are able to use that dream to keep on fighting.

I hope you all aren’t put off that this is more like a series of one-shots centered around a certain plot device (the wedding dream) instead of a congruent storyline.  That was what this project ended up being.

I give my thanks to whoever reads this chapter.

I also give my special thanks to @fandomchanger, @flynn-science​, and @ladylucky​ for their likes on the previous chapters as well as @sokaiweek, @phoenix-downer, and @the-secret-place​ for reblogging the previous chapter.

Comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated!  Stay tuned for what comes next because it’s going to be a real feel-good chapter!

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Onto the next chapter!

[thisispurpleyam]

Surreptitious Candor part 4

A beautiful lounge singer and Napoleon Solo cross paths during U.N.C.L.E.’s mission in New York. 

Napoleon Solo x WOC oc

I thought that this fic would only need 4 parts, but apparently it calls for two more...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Playlist

*****

Knocking out and tying up the owner of the invitation was much simpler than Gaby and Illya expected. The man was the personification of nervous, awkward, and clumsy. He tripped over his own feet and started sobbing immediately after Illya kicked his door down. When Gaby suddenly appeared behind him, the poor guy just couldn’t take it and passed out. They finished the job quietly and swiftly before their oblivious victim’s neighbors noticed something was amiss. Shortly after, they set off to the rendezvous point the team had agreed on. 

At the soiree, Napoleon was blending in with the crowd perfectly, being the usual charmer he was. Amalia and Bernard didn’t even recognize him, as he had anticipated. So, when they paused to ask him who he was, he flawlessly delivered his story of being Alan Sinclair, the only child of the late Mr. and Mrs Sinclair. Everything else would have gone smoothly if it wasn’t for the gossip filling the room unnecessarily dragging out his job.

“Leon?” he heard a familiar voice call out to him, distracting him from his thoughts. 

He turned around and faced the singer whom he had recently become very well acquainted with. “Ah, Eula. Fancy seeing you here.” 

“After last night, who would have thought we’d run into each other again so soon?” she responded with a suggestive smirk. 

Napoleon knowingly smiled back, taking pride in the secret only they had the privilege of knowing. He took her hand in his and kissed her gloved knuckles. “Fate has its ways.” 

“I thought you didn’t like to dance, though?” Eula slyly asked, making a point of darting her eyes toward the dance floor. 

“I suppose I could make an exception for a certain chanteuse again, considering how well my night ended the last time I did,” he replied with a wink, taking the lead and joining the pairs swaying to the music. 

As the two of them moved in time with the song, it dawned on Eula how much time she had been spending with Napoleon. She preferred to be detached from people, being the independent and self-sufficient woman she was. Every involvement she ever had with a man, and they were very few and far between, only lasted a night. All of them, she either met at the lounge or worked with during one of her side jobs before she became a regular at the diner. She seldom let things get far as breakfast. Yet here she was, in her highest heels and most expensive dress, dancing with the devilishly handsome spy and enjoying his company for the fourth night in a row. 

“Alan,” Amalia Fernsby called out. “I see you’ve gotten comfortable enough to partake in the festivities.”

“Mrs. Fernsby,” Napoleon greeted as he pulled away from Eula, noticing her expression sour the moment they heard Amalia’s voice. He pretended to not notice and settled for an arm around her waist instead. “I couldn’t possibly say no to such a lovely dance partner.”

Amalia turned her focus to the singer and remarked, “you never told us the two of you know each other.”

“I prefer to keep our conversations on a need-to-know basis,” Eula responded curtly, flashing an artificial smile to emphasize her point. 

Bernard sensed the tension and stepped in, “I’m really glad you and Alan Sinclair are getting along well, though. His mother really meant a lot to our family. She was a wonderful tutor to you, and we’ll forever be in debt.” 

“She absolutely was. Maybe you could come over for dinner sometime, Alan,” Amalia excitedly added. “How your mother didn’t talk much about you, I will never understand. If I had a son as handsome as you, I would-“

“Mother,” Eula sternly cut in. “Let’s not make our guest uncomfortable, shall we?”

Before the conversation could get any further, their assistant came to inform Bernard and Amalia that their presence was requested by an important guest. 

Napoleon waited for any woman’s reaction whenever they realized a man had been dishonest with them. He anticipated Eula’s rage or tears, but neither came. Instead, she took her parents’ absence as an opportunity to get away from the crowd. 

“Let’s get out of here,” she said as she grabbed him and pulled him to an empty hallway, leading him to the fire exit door. She looked both ways to make sure the area was clear before dragging him inside the stairwell. 

Napoleon lazily raised both of his hands and offered Eula a sheepish grin, “Alright. You got me.” 

“Relax, Alan,” she said in sarcasm and leaned her back against the door. “I’m trying to help you.” 

Napoleon incredulously eyed the brunette. “You are?”

“Yes! So you better listen carefully before anybody notices anything out of the ordinary,” she responded all in one breath. 

Still doubtful, Napoleon inquired, “but why? Considering you just found out I used you and lied to you, the last thing you should be feeling is generosity.”

Eula rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Leon, I knew. From the moment we first met, I knew you weren’t who you presented yourself to be.”

“Alright, humor me then,” he challenged. “What do you know about me?” 

“First of all,” she started, taking steps closer to him and meeting his piercing gaze, “I know that you’re a conman. You always don designer suits that only the upper class of New York can afford, yet your hands are way too rough to belong to a man of wealth. Hell, even your car is more expensive than any I’ve driven before. As far as I know, no man can get that rich off physical labor alone. Hands like yours could only mean being heavily exposed to either field work or combat. My suspicions were proven right when I saw your scars last night. I’ve had my fair share of men, and I think I can tell the difference between a puny heir with no backbone and someone who had to do whatever he can to survive.” 

Napoleon could only look at her in wonder. None of the women he had been with were as observant. They usually swooned over the smallest things and bought whatever persona he sold to them. 

“I also know that you’re a thief. A good one, I might add, who would have gotten away with stealing my bracelet if I didn’t know the contents of my jewelry box like the back of my hand. After all, how can my bracelet disappear after I first spoke with you and suddenly turn up in my jewelry box after you spent the night?”

Napoleon snickered. “A good thief probably shouldn’t return items they’ve stolen.”

“Even if you hadn’t given it back, I still would have figured you out,” Eula confidently retorted. 

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

“Simple. You’re not at all the type of man to stick around. You’re the type who leaves after you’ve had your fun. And if the object of your desire doesn’t take you up on your offer right away, you move on to your next conquest. With me, you actually waited for three days and even visited the diner despite barely knowing me. What other reason would you have to stay other than the fact that you’d already figured out who I really was?”

Napoleon hated to admit it, but he was impressed. The CIA and U.N.C.L.E. had done a good job covering up his criminal record, yet Eula was able to glean that much information simply by paying attention. She might not have figured out the exact circumstances, but she got pretty damn close. “You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that.”

“Alright, then. My turn to ask now. How did you find out I was a Fernsby?”

“Your bracelet,” he answered nonchalantly. 

“My bracelet?” Eula asked in puzzlement. “But it’s a unique design that never reached the market.” 

“Precisely. At first I considered it was a knockoff brand, seeing as it had an emblem vaguely similar to the Fernsbys’ trademark logo, but the quality was way too high to be that cheap. Then I found out that in every photograph taken of the Fernsby women from different generations, each had that bracelet in common. I gathered that it was a jewelry unique to every woman in the family.”

Eula shook her head and scoffed. “I knew I should have thrown that stupid thing away. It never did quite fit me right.” 

“But there’s just one thing I couldn’t quite figure out.”

“And that is?”

“Every single Fernsby woman of the last three generations have their photographs in the paper, except for you.”

“I don’t really like to associate with my family. That’s the whole reason why I left the day I turned 18. I’ve been working at the lounge since then and even took up graveyard shifts at the diner.”

“So that’s why you’re helping me? Because you hate your family?” 

“Don’t mock me,” she firmly told him. “They’re not as ‘glamorous’ as they make people think. I may not know the exact details, but I was groomed to be the company’s heir and trained to understand the ins and outs. I know they’ve been caught up in human trafficking and drug dealing of some sort. I can’t exactly report them to the cops because even they can be bought by our family name alone. The money from the business my ancestors started deserves to be put to better use.”

“And you think I won’t misuse the money?” he sarcastically asked. 

“I think, you’re not doing this heist completely out of selfish reasons.”

“What makes you say that?”

“When you left the diner, I saw what you did to that young news boy. I saw how you bought all of the papers he had left just so he could go home. I also know that on the evening we met, when it was a really slow night at the lounge, it was you who tipped every single server on duty. Leon, you’re not as terrible of a person as you seem to think.”

“You’re trusting me way too much, Eula” Napoleon warned her. 

“Well, I’d rather trust you than my manipulative and controlling parents. At least I know you’re capable of helping people on your own free will. They only do it for show.” 

“If you hate them so much, why’d you come to the soiree?” he questioned. 

“Because it’s part of the deal,” Eula bit back. “I promised I’d show up to every stupid gathering they’d hold in exchange for them getting their ‘henchmen’ off my back. It doesn’t guarantee my safety from the tabloids, but it’s worth a try…”

Napoleon wordlessly studied the brunette. All the years he spent in his trade taught him to recognize dishonesty, and Eula showed no sign of it. “Fine,” he gave in. “When do we start?”

“We? I can’t go with you. I go on stage in a few minutes. You’ll be on your own, so you have to pay close attention to everything I tell you.” 

“Alright, what do I have to do?” 

Eula looked around the fire exit staircase to make sure no one could overhear and hurriedly instructed, “go into the janitor’s closet at the end of the hall. The wall on the left side of the door is hollow and has a hidden elevator behind it. You’ll need this,” she took off her bracelet and handed it to Napoleon, “because the emblem on the pendant unlocks the elevator doors.”

“Ah, so this ‘stupid thing’ has a use after all,” Napoleon teased.

She let out a dry laugh and answered, “yes, but I won’t be needing it anymore, so you can keep it. The elevator takes you to the most restricted area of the building. When you get there, you’ll see a steel door with a passcode. I would tell you the code, but they change it every 12 hours. You get past that, and then there’s a safe you gotta crack.”

“Lucky for you, safe cracking is a part of my skill set. But I suppose you already knew that otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me all this.”

“I didn’t really know. But considering the magnitude of this larceny, I just figured.”

“Hmm, fair enough. 

“Best be on your way before people start to miss you,” Eula ordered him. “Oh, and the password for unlocking the steel door from the inside is ‘awanggan.’ It’s Tagalog for infinity.” 

“Listen, Eula,” Napoleon began hesitantly, “I’m sorry for-”

“It’s okay,” she interjected with a genuine smile and joked, “I always knew you weren’t a ‘coffee and breakfast in the morning’ kind of guy from the get go.”

Napoleon began to make his way to the door until he paused in his tracks and turned back around. He caught her off guard by pulling her in and capturing her lips with his. After she got past her initial surprise, she eagerly responded almost immediately; each of them moving with an amount of aggression to ensure neither would easily forget the physical memory of the experience. He gave her bottom lip a soft bite before slowly pulling away.

 “Don’t miss me too much,” he smugly teased. 

“Whatever you say, Leon. Now hurry!”