#hold on i just almost died but i need to strike a pose first

[marlynnofmany]

An Impressive Number of Arms

“Hello!” I said, holding up the clear travel crate. “Here are your small hopping animals!” I really wanted to say frogs, but they weren’t from Earth, and neither were the people I was handing them off to.

“Excellent,” said the one-armed alien. She stood more solidly on that single leg than I ever would, regarding me with one large eye. It was weird to see her mouth instead of a breathing mask. The air on her ship was unbearably damp by my standards, and I couldn’t wait to get back on the shuttle.

The other Solo spoke up from behind her, a greenish-blue to her purple-blue. “Do you have the crawling animals too?”

“Yes, sorry,” I said. “Mur is bringing those.” I called back into the open hatch of the shuttle, “Need a hand, Mur?”

“Just double-checking the seal,” my coworker called back. “And why would I need a hand when I have tentacles? Absurd human phrasing.”

I turned back to the clients, setting the crate on a table. “He’ll be right out.”

Before I could get the payment tablet or strike up some small talk, an authority figure walked into the docking bay. Well, hopped. But she made it look regal. And the other two immediately folded in half to bow. I did the same briefly, hoping it was the right amount of deference.

“Are the creatures lively?” she demanded.

“Oh yes,” I said, waving a hand at the crate while keeping my other arm at my side. It wouldn’t do to emphasize my abundance of limbs.

The boss turned her one eye on the purple underling. “Open the lid and check.”

I blurted out, “It’s clear. You can see them.”

That just earned me a glare. “False sides can be faked.”

Yeah, okay. Guess we’re doing this. I shrugged, hoping it looked polite, and stepped back for the purple one to unfasten all the safety catches. Maybe the frogs will behave themselves.

Of course they didn’t. The first one leapt right at my face, and I caught it in midair. Others were springing everywhere with excited little peeps. The purple one shut the lid hastily, but it was much too late.

“Hm. Good,” the boss said. She turned on her heel and bounded toward the door. “Make sure you clean up thoroughly.”

I’d like to say I was flabbergasted at that, but I’d been working with people of one sort or another for long enough to know better. The customer is often an idiot, and you’re obliged to pretend they’re not.

“I got one!” said the green guy. “Open the lid again!”

“The others will get out!” objected the purple one, trying to slap her hand over another tiny frog-thing.

“Who designed this crate?” the green one lamented.

“Here, I can do it,” I said. “I’ve had practice.” The frog I’d caught was small enough to hold in one hand without worrying that I’d squish it, so my other was free to slide the lid back an inch, covering the rest of the opening with my forearm. I dumped the frog in and closed it, then held my hands out for the next one.

The Solos were grateful. We did our best to catch the many little beasties that were spreading across the docking bay. I caught twice as many as they did, and put them all back one at a time.

The green guy shook his head. “That two-armed advantage,” he grumbled.

“We appreciate your help,” said the purple one, giving him a sharp look.

“No problem,” I said. “I’m happy to put my arms to use.” It was only showing off a little to catch two different frogs at once. “I think we’ve got most of them, just missing the ones that have gone into hiding.”

“Hiding inside our shuttle?” asked Mur��s voice.

I looked up to see him posing in the entrance with a frog wrapped in almost every tentacle. He towed the snail crate behind him on a glider pad. The seals looked fine.

I cocked a hip. “Nobody likes a show-off, Mur.”

His grin made him look like a cartoonishly proud squid.

The Solos fell over themselves thanking him. I put my two frogs away, then took his one at a time while the Solos peeked into corners and crevices in search of strays. Eventually they were all back in the crate, none the worse for all the excitement.

I didn’t know if they were destined to be food, royal pets, or something else, but they were healthy and accounted for on my watch, dagnabbit. I even got out the medical scanner to count how many were in the crate, because there was no way they’d hold still long enough to do it the old-fashioned way.

“Yes, that’s all of them!” I declared. The Solos looked visibly relieved. “Good job, team!”

“You’re welcome,” Mur said with false humility.

“Yeah yeah,” I said. “You and your more-arms-than-the-rest-of-us-combined. What took you so long to come out, anyway?”

“Oh, that.” Mur leaned in with a tentacle shielding his mouth from lip-reading on any cameras that might be in place. “Whoever made the snail crate did a bad job. The lid popped open in transit.”

“What?” I asked while the two Solos looked appropriately alarmed.

“Not to worry. I got them all.” He looked exceptionally smug, waving his tentacles gently.

I just shook my head and took out the payment tablet.

“Don’t tell the boss,” said the purple one as she took it. She had to set it on the table so she could use her single hand to tap in the information.

“Not a word,” I promised.

“I will only brag to trusted ears,” Mur said. With a glance at me, he added. “I think now is a fine time for a round of that card-flipping game that you lost so badly at last time. I’m on a roll.”

I pointed a finger at him while I accepted the tablet back with the other hand. “Oh, you are on. There’s no way I’m going to let you be this smug twice in one day.”

He grinned some more. I was pretty sure he was definitely going to be that smug again, but I’d give it my best shot. On the behalf of people with only two arms everywhere.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 okay I'd like to apologize in advance.

"Oh my dear I cannot wait to see you perform again!" Alastor exclaimed as he and Aponi walked around the room, trying to get ready.

"Yeah? Id be prepared. It's a long song. Might bore you to death," Aponi teased.

"Oh my dear, on the contrary! Your voice is the highlight of my death!" He stated. "What did you say the song was from?" He asked.

"A musical. One of my favorites. It's about British history. Very interesting. I'll make you watch it one day," Aponi stated as she got her hoop earrings in and adjusted her high ponytail.

"Qh I see. As long as it makes you happy. Do I get a sneak peak at your clothes?" Alastor asked.

"Nope! Now come on I wouldn't wanna be late," Aponi stated before all but dragging the radio demon out of the apartment.

When the two got there, aponi had to immediately get onto the stage, all of her friends were already reciting their lines.

Alastor sat next to Aponi's froend, Carolyn.

"Good luck trying to compete with us! Honey!" One performer stated before all of them struck a pose.

"You're right.... You're right!" Aponi began. "Your lives sounded terrible! And your songs... really helped to convey that!" She insulted.

The crowd laughed.

"I mean Catherine! Almost moving to a nunnery and then not? That almost could've been really hard for you!" She exclaimed.

The woman playing Catherine scowled, trying not to laugh.

"And Anne! Getting your head chopped off! Surely that means you'll win the competi- oh wait. Divorced beheaded died divorced beheaded- oooh... nevermind!" She walked over to another performer.

Alastor smirked.

"And Jane. Dying of natural causes.... WHEN WILL JUSTICE BE SERVED?!" She yelled.

The crowd laughed.

"And surviving," she walked over to one of the performers only to walk away to the next one. "Seriously Anna. All jokes aside, getting rejected by your looks legit sounds really rough," she stated.

"I wouldn't tknow anything about that,"

The crowd laughed again, as did alastor.

"I mean look at me I'm really hot-" she trailed off. "So yeah I can't even begin to think of how I'll compete with you all! Oh wait! Like this!" She stated as the music started and the lights flickered to the beat.

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby I think we can all agree I'm a ten amongst these threes

She sang before walking round the stage.

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby And ever since I was a child, I'd make the boys go wild

The crowd laughed as she made a gesture with her gand signaling "crazy".

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Take my first music teacher, Henry Mannox I was young it's true but even then I knew The only thing you wanna to do is...

She blew a kiss.

Broad, dark, sexy Mannox Taught me all about dynamics He was 23 And I was 13 going on 30 We'd spend hours strumming the lute Striking the chords and blowing the flute He plucked my strings all the way to G Went from major to minor, C to D

She danced to the beat as she sang, seemingly having fun with the song.

Tell me what you need What you want, you don't need to plead 'Cause I feel the chemistry Like I get you and you get me

Alastor smiled at his girlfriend as she sang. This would always be the highlight of his death.

And maybe this is it He just cares so much, it feels legit We have a connection I think this guy is different

Aponi acted with the lyrics. Actually seeming like a high school girl in love with the wrong man.

Mabe that's because that was her story.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, love me, can't get enough, see All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is please me, squeeze me, birds and the bees me Run your fingers through my hair Tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair Playtime's over The only thing you wanna do is...

She blew a kiss again, smiling.

But then there was another guy Francis Dereham

She moved to the beat before holding the microphone up again.

Serious, stern and slow Gets what he wants, and he won't take no Passion in all that he touches The sexy secretary to the Dowager Duchess

Alastor couldn't help but be a bit jealous at the choice of words. He's never seen her be so open about sexual acts.

Helped him in his office, had a duty to fulfil He even let me use his favourite quill Spilled ink all over the parchment, my wrist was so tired Still I came back the next day as he required

Alastor choked on air as he understood the lyrics.

This was not a normal song that Aponi would sing... was it?

You say I'm what you need All you want, you don't need to plead 'Cause I feel the chemistry Like I get you and you get me

Aponi sang once again with that schoolgirl innocence. Alastor had no idea how she acted it out so well.

And I know this is it He just cares so much, this one's legit We have a real connection I'm sure this time is different

Then he remembered.

It's not acting. It's reminiscing.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, love me, can't get enough see All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is please me, squeeze me, birds and the bees me You can't wait a second more to get My corset on the floor Playtime's over The only thing you wanna do is...

Another kis was blown before aponi cleared her throat and took a small sip of water.

Yeah, that didn't work out

She stated, a tint of humor and sadness in her voice as the crowd laughed.

So I decided to have a break from boys And you'll never guess who I met

The music went again.

Tall, large, Henry the Eighth Supreme head of the Church of England

Silence.

Then laughter.

And then she sang again.

Globally revered Although you wouldn't know it from the look of that beard Made me a lady in waiting Hurled me and my family up in the world Gave me duties in court and he swears it's true That without me, he doesn't know what he'd do

Aponi smiled a bit sadly.

You say I'm what you need All you want, we both agree This is the place for me I'm finally where I'm meant to be

Aponi acted content.

As if she really lived Katherine Howard's life.

Then he starts saying all this stuff He cares so much, he calls me love

Her voice cracked.

Alastor heard it.

She really wasn't acting was she??

He says we have this connection I guess it's not so different

She belted the last note, a small frown forming on her face before a smile took over.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, love me, can't get enough, see All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is seize me, squeeze me, birds and the bees me There's no time for when or how 'cause you Just got to have me now Playtime's over The only thing you wanna do is...

She blew yet another kiss.

Then silence, aside from the music.

So we got married Woo

The crowd laughed. Alastor didn't. He had seen the promise rings.

Hell, he had helped sell them.

With Henry, it isn't easy His temper's short, and his mates are sleazy

Now this..... this was from the heart. those two lines right there.

Except for this one courtier He's a really nice guy, just so sincere The royal life isn't what I planned But Thomas is there to lend a helping hand So sweet, makes sure that I'm okay And we hang out loads when the King's away

Aponi gave a weak smile at the memories clearly flooding her mind.

All alastor wanted to do was remove her from the environment.

But he was also entertained. Was she acting? Or were her emotions real?

This guy finally Is what I want, the friend I need Just friends, no chemistry I get him and he gets me

Her facial expressions couldn't have simply been actingm alastor was sure of it.

Andbyet.. she kept on with the song.

And there's nothing more to it He just cares so much, he's devoted He says we have a connection

The sadness on her face spoke more words than she could ever sing.

Her emotions were real.

I thought this time was different

She sang quietly...

Why did I think he'd be different?

She sang louder....

But it's never, ever different

Her voice cracked. Alastor could practically see the tears in her eyes.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, when will enough be enough? See

All the dancers around her put hands on her, signifying the hands that would've been on her in real life.

She shook uncomfortably as she sang.

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Squeeze me, don't care if you don't please me

Her voice cracked again and alastor almost broke. he could feel her raw pain. He had felt it more than once in person.

The audience felt it as well.

There were no more laughs. No more claps. The audience was silent and maybe a bit uncomfortable at the raw pain being sung on stage.

Bite my lip and pull my hair As you tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair Playtime's over Playtime's over Playtime's over

As she belted the last not tears spilled from her eyes in a sea of sadness.

The only thing The only thing The only thing you wanna do is...

She blew another kiss but this time she gasped as if gasping for air.

The lights went out.

The audience hesitated before clapoing, confused on if that was real, or just amazing acting from their friend.

An hour or so later Aponi and Alastor walked back to the hotel together.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Alastor asked.

"Yes... just tired," a quiet aponi stated.

Silence.

When the two got back to the hotel Aponi went right up to her room.

Alastor stayed downstairs thinking about what to do.

[fwomp]

don’t mind me, just slowly walking up the walls

[thefanficmonster]

Breathing In

Sequel to: “In Too Deep”

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Cheating (Past), Mentions of toxic relationships

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: It’s not just about leaving a person behind, it’s about leaving behind what feels to be a separate world, one you want to detach from yet you still want to hold onto for the twisted comfort it gives you, the familiarity of it all. But then again, you’ve been drowning in the deep too long to still want to hold on, and all you want is to swim up to the surface and breathe in.

Requested by the lovely readers who showed the first fic “In Too Deep” so much love and support. I’m so glad to be writing a sequel for this piece because I enjoyed writing it so much! I love the storyline and I can’t express how grateful I am the Anon who sent in the request for it in the first place. Love you all, Vy ❤ 

A romantic relationship should never be a responsibility. A person should never be another person’s responsibility. One cannot be a pillar and stand strong while the other is falling apart, leaning on them and depending on them for everything in their life. That’s not love, it’s hell. It’s a job you get paid for with nothing but exhaustion, pain and emptiness. Your mind’s constantly flooded by images of all those times you could’ve experienced had those ‘what if’s happened.

What if she didn’t turn up to class late that day? What if she didn’t need anyone to distract the professor for her to get in the classroom undetected? What if when Kaylor asked for sex as a repayment she refused and slapped him across the face?

Well, things would be different. She wouldn’t be living like this, that’s for sure. She’d be working her ass off, just like she’s wanted to all her life. Coming from a family of drunks and bums, she’s always wanted to prove her worth, not to others but to herself. To prove that ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ doesn’t always apply. She’s always been terrified of that saying, never wanting to become like her parents and older siblings. Never wanting to become like Kaylor who started off as her acquaintance, proceeded to become a guy she regularly hooked up with and then became her boyfriend. And then, the worst decision among all she’s ever made, she allowed him to slip that ring onto her finger and a few months later exchange vows with her in front of an altar. Had her phone not died the night prior to meeting him, none of this would’ve happened. She’d have several normal jobs instead of one barely-paying one and one she didn’t know she ever even signed up for - taking care of Kaylor.

She’s been drowning in the deep for so long, she can barely remember. Long enough to forget how breathing in feels.

However, she’s not the only one.

He has his own fulfilled ‘what if’s as well: what if he hadn’t left his apartment that night? What if he had stopped after the second beer like he originally intended to? What if he didn’t choose exactly that night to socialize with the stranger who sat down on the bar stool next to him. What if he simply paid for his drinks and left?

But he didn’t, he didn’t do any of that. Didn’t manage to preserve himself, didn’t manage to keep it in his pants or hide the lust in his eyes. Still, the hook-up on its own wouldn’t have been so horrible had it not led to what it did afterwards. Had it not led to a relationship with one very fragile girl. A girl much like him, too much like him. Constantly insecure, fearful, paranoid, dependent, distrusting. A girl always in need of a firm grip on her hand and an external voice telling her it would all be alright because her internal voice is never optimistic. Her own mind doesn’t like her, she can barely stand it, and he got caught in that crossfire.

He can’t really picture what he would be doing with his life if it wasn’t for Ida, he’s that sucked in. He’s that deep into this mess. It’s not water he’s drowning in, it’s quicksand, the type that’s taken form with his regret and self-hatred as a base. Breathing in would result in sand-filled lungs but at this point his only wish is to breathe in, no matter the consequences. After all, if it doesn’t save him it’ll kill him and he can live with that.

Still, it hasn’t all been dark for our broken lovers. There are several ‘what if’s Corpse and Y/N don’t ever wanna imagine or know the outcome of. Such as, for example: What if the two of them never met? What if they didn’t strike up the relationship question? What if they didn’t share that kiss in that parking lot that night. That single contact between their lips was the only thing they didn’t regret that night. What they regret the most, however, is walking away from one another, spiraling their situation out of control, turning it into a twisted, sticky spiderweb, laced with the sin of cheating on a significant other. 

If it were as simple as people make it out to be - break up with the other person instead of cheating - they would’ve done it so long ago. They would’ve been far from here. Very far from this fucking place and these fucking problems had they been the ones holding the leash of their fate rather than let the current of events manipulate them.

Maybe they’re a little late with the grasp of this realization, but that’s not what matters. What’s important is the here and now, the events that are about to occur or not occur. The actions that will or won’t be taken. Y/N and Corpse have been a will they/won’t they pair from the very start, always leaning more towards won’t because of how impossible it all felt. How hopeless the spiraling hell they were in made them feel.

But now the tables have turned.

Corpse was the first to leave his hell-cell. He did so by cutting things off with Ida a week ago. He did so rather gently and caringly, promising he’s always a phone call away whenever she needs him. It took a lot of preparation and guts he didn’t have but had to develop in order to execute such a delicate operation and make it a successful one. The response he got from her was rather surprising.

“I was hoping you’d call it off.“ She said with a small smile, shocking him to the point of letting out a small gasp, “I mean, you know me, I could’ve never done it. But I hated what I was doing to you and I hated myself even more for not being able to stop and...“ she trailed off, her lips pressing in a thin line, eyes glistening with tears, “...I’m so glad you did it. You’re saving both of us, trust me.“

As he was packing his stuff, he overheard Ida’s phone call with her parents, telling them she wanted to move back in with them for a little while but refused to answer any further questions, at least not over the phone. That was the biggest relief, a whole-ass boulder lifted off him, allowing him to finally breathe in. But he wasn’t breathing in at full lung capacity, he still isn’t even no as he stands outside a gas station, leaning on the side of his car which is loaded with all his belongings which he doesn’t have many of, thankfully. He’s waiting for her - the half of this relationship that’s still swaying between will it/won’t it. Corpse is all will, all in, ready for a new, fresh start, ready to be able to breathe the air of the real world, feel the breeze of a real life finally. Whereas Y/N is not as certain, not as prepared and a lot more emotionally attached. It’s understandable, she’s leaving behind a husband, not just a boyfriend.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Corpse. I won’t be able to live if something happens to him. I’ll forever feel guilty, I’ll hate myself forever. You gotta understand.“ She told him the same night him and Ida had their break-up. He called her, telling her he had some big news to share. His excitement was quickly shot down when she gave him this response, eyes glossy with sorrowful tears.

He understood.

She asked for time. He gave it to her.

He gave her an ultimatum. She gave dubious agreement.

The ultimatum? : meet him at this gas station, with her belongings, right at sunset, prepared for the adventure filled with struggles, the whole experience of starting new.

And so he waits, watching as the sun goes lower and lower, leaving the scene to be taken over by the moon and now dark and starry sky - just like his hopefulness is stepping aside for his depression and dread to take over.

She’s not here. She hasn’t tried to reach out to tell him anything. Even a rejection would’ve been better than to let him wait here, his heart breaking a bit more with each passing minute. All this time he’s been trying to convince himself he’ll move on without her if she doesn’t show up. He’ll skip town like the two of them planned to do together. He’ll leave and leave it all behind, Y/N included. But now, looking from this standpoint, being barely a minute away from having to put his foot down on the gas pedal and drive out of the city, pass the sign that’ll tell him he’s passed the threshold, he finds it brings him almost physical pain.

He’s not sure he can do it.

With a heavy sigh he spares the horizon one final glance to see there are only faint traces of the sun he was observing just minutes prior, the final reminder that he has to go now, has to stay true to himself and respect the ultimatum he posed, no matter how much it hurts emotionally, mentally or physically.

Just as he’s about to enter his car, he hears what sounds to be footsteps, but before he can even look up to check where they’re coming from a loud, cheery yell startles him.

“HEY! Look what I got!“ He’d recognize that voice anywhere and no matter what words it says, it’ll always grab his full attention just like it did just now.

Corpse whirls around to face the direction of the voice to see her, Y/N beaming at him brighter than the sun he just watched set. Over one shoulder she has a duffel bag and in the opposite arm she’s dragging a suitcase and if that isn’t confirmation enough, in her free hand she proudly wields what looks to be a document. When she gets closer, his eyes widen at the realization of what she’s holding - divorce papers.

“H-how?“ He stutters in disbelief, his jaw hanging, his heart beating like crazy, his eyes brimming with tears of joy that’s just exploded throughout his chest like a firework.

She rolls her eyes, dropping the papers, suitcase and duffel bag in the dust, “You talk too much.“ With that, she rushes over to him, throwing her arms and legs around him, her head nuzzled in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

Breathing in, they’re both breathing in, with full lung capacity at that - something they never thought they’d have the chance to do, but here they are. Here they stand, shamelessly in each other’s tight , loving embrace that they never want to have to let go of again, afraid of the wrong eyes seeing it.

They are finally free, finally out of the deep end and back to being afloat, floating towards the nearest island to make it their own. And on that note...

“Let’s get out of here.“ Y/N whispers in Corpse’s ear, her fingers tightening the hold of his shirt at his shoulder blades.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

A Cursed Reality-JJk x Male Reader (Ch.4)

This chapter is a little shorter than usual but I'm hoping since it's the second chapter in the week you guy will let me slide. I would've written more but I like the ending so.

Let me know if you guys think I should translate what Inumaki is saying. He won't always use safewords but I think it's important to his character and easily understandable in this situation. Enjoy!!

Last // Next

Chapter Four:

“Do I look stupid to you?”

“Salmon”

“...”

“Bonito flakes?”

“Where are we going anyway”

“Fish flakes”

“I’m not a fan of surprises.” [Name] responded. A comedic silence fell as [Name] and Inumaki just started each other. One of them was bound to give in and if anything it was NOT going to be [Name] who possessed the second strongest cursed technique in the world, as well as being a Special Grade sorcerer at the ripe age of 17. Definitely not. It wasn’t as if Toge was his weak spot or anything.

“I better not regret this”

“Fish flakes”

As much as Inumaki loved being friends with [Name], the other sorcerer was at the end of the day extremely dramatic. It had to have been something he picked up from Gojo over the years. The two were frighteningly alike, both of them had this tendency to pretend they were happier than they actually were while hiding some extremely dark behaviors. And like Gojo [Name]’s power was both feared and not completely known.

Somehow the two were hiding a more complex aspect of [Name]’s power. Why, Inumaki was unsure. [Name] is the type of person to carry a ton of secrets while keeping almost nothing important about himself hidden. Upfront, but unknown. And if his ultimate cursed technique is a secret kept from everyone but Gojo, then it’s final. No amount of begging or blackmail would do any good. Though it doesn’t mean Inumaki doesn’t wish [Name] felt comfortable enough with him to share.

“Are you just gonna stand there looking off in the distance or are we gonna go”

Toge torn from his thoughts looked at [Name] for a second, curious and contemplative before turning around and walking off

“I guess that answers that question.[Name] said out loud to himself “Is he really leaving me? That fucker”

[Name] saw Gojo before any of the first years. Which was unfortunate because not only was he curious about the new first year (and would probably never admit it) it meant that the first person he’d see after spending the day out with Inumaki would be a cocky white haired idiot. Gojo treated [Name] like a younger brother and if you’ve ever had a sibling you’d know siblings make it a personal mission to tease, abuse and humiliate you. Out of pure love of course.

“So how was the date?” Gojo teased

“Fine. Nobody died” The two of them stared each other down. [Name] with challenging eyes and a straight face and Gojo with a smirk on his face

“Oh [Name] senpai you’re back” Fushiguro announced, the sound catching the attention of Nobara and Yuji who’d been arguing over whether or not girls would actually like Yuji once they got to know how dumb he was.

“How was your date?” Yuji asked excitedly

‘I’m being interrogated before I even get into the dorms, AND in front of a first year girl I don’t know’

“If you call going to defeat a second grade tormenting some people in the city a date, it went well. No casualties. My partner was fine and didn’t need my help but of course like the amazing friend I am I stepped in to help finish the job” [Name] answered

“Big deal. You showed off in front of some girl and then swooped in when the job was almost done to steal the credit. Why should I respect you as my upperclassman” Nobara huffed while striking some sort of... wonder woman pose and staring [Name] down

‘I like the energy but also why is she coming for me at first sight?’

“Did you miss the part where I helped defeat a second grade with no problem? It wasn’t to show off or to brag. Who would I be trying to impress? Megumi and Yuji? And who said it was a girl?”

Nobara was caught off guard with the last response. Not only did he return the energy she gave him, but she failed to recognize a member of the alphabet mafia (LGBTQ+ community). Actually, now that she’s thinking about it, she was a little too comfortable around Megumi, Yuji, AND Gojo for them all to be straight. Gojo did give her weird vibes but not the creepy stalker weirdo kind

“So… You fight monsters with your boyfriend then?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. But I mean yeah it’s like a best friend tag team kind of thing. You’ll get used to it around here.”

“They already kind of did” Gojo chimed in

“Yeah, I saved the kid while Kugisaki nailed the cursed spirit with her straw doll thingy” Yuji started.

‘Straw doll thing?’

“Of course I did more of the work, but we wouldn’t have been able to save the day without her”

Nobara pretended to not be flattered by the compliment as [Name] tried to hold back his laugh and not howl at her pleased face. He failed. Yuji and Megumi began to giggle too. Gojo was amused by their dynamic, looking at the first years and smiling. Happy they were getting along with their upperclassman. It was really nice to see [Name] have friends too, if he only had Toge it would hurt that much worse if the cursed speech user was ripped away from him. He knew from first experience, and as a jujutsu sorcerer, there weren’t many moments of happiness in their future.

Report: July 2018

In west Tokyo City, at the Eishu Juvenile Detention Center

The sky abovethe exercise yard

“Hey what’s that?”

“What?”

“There! That egg thing!”

“Whatchu talkin about?!”

An Unnamed Apparition of Potential Special Grade was witnessed by multiple non-jujutsu sorcerers. Since it was deemed an Emergency, three first year students were sent to the scene. Of those students, one died.

It was discovered that a special grade sorcerer showed up just before the worst of the situation but could not save all three students. In his grief the entire facility was destroyed.

[evening-starlight]

Daddy’s Best Friend

Tag List is open! Comment or DM to be added.

All Works Master List

DBF Master List

12

Word Count: 1992

    The pile of clothes at the end of the bed seems impossible to sort as Amaris searches for her shirt. Her hands shake, and her mind yells at her. She said it would only be once, so why has she been in Tom's bed every day for the last week?

    "Here, your shirt," Tom says as he hands Amaris her ripped Metallica shirt. She didn't listen to the band much anymore; they were a little too heavy for her. She thanks him with a small smile and throws it on, finding her blue shorts quickly after. "You know, you don't have to leave so fast," Tom states, leaning against his bedpost. He hated seeing her leave so quickly after; it sent dread and sadness throughout his body. "We're still friends."

    Amaris can't help the heavy sigh that passes her lips. "Are we Tom? We haven't done friendly things since we started this mess. All we do is fuck," She bites, making her way out of his bedroom. It felt suffocating in there. Like all her evil deeds were ganging up to end her then and there. She didn't mean for the words to sound bitter, but it was true.

    Tom follows her out. "Then let's do something today. It's only noon. We have the whole day. Let's go bowling or something. Let's hang out, Mari. Let me show you we're still friends." Tom begs. He didn't want to lose her as a friend, which is why he hid these feelings for so long. It felt like his worst nightmare was happening before his eyes, and it had only been a week into the affair.

    He knew she was still with Armel, but he didn't care. He had her too, and he didn't mind sharing when she came to him to finish the job Armel couldn't. However, the jealously was nagging at him, and he had to continuously remind himself that this was what he wanted.

    "Fine. Armel and Juno are in classes, and I don't feel like dealing with Danny's drama." Tom smiles, stepping forward to kiss Amaris. She puts her hand up as a shield. "Strictly friends, Thomas." He sighs and chooses to wrap his arms around her shoulders in a friendly hug.

    "Deal. So bowling?" He asks. "Museum? I have no preference." Amaris thinks what the least romantic option would be.

    "Bowling," She states, pulling out of Tom's hug. It was public and loud, not a typically romantic place. She eyes him up and down, lingering on his shirtless torso a second longer than was platonic. "But I think you'll need to put a shirt on." She giggles as Tom flexes in typical bodybuilder poses.

    "What? Think you'd get too distracted by these guns?" He teases, flexing his biceps.

    "More like blinded by your pale skin," Amaris quips back. Tom fakes shock but can't hide the laugh bubbling in his belly. It felt good to joke around as friends again. Amaris could almost forget that she was slowly breaking Armel's heart. Almost.

    Tom holds the door to the bowling alley open for Amaris. The drive to the destination was full of jokes, singing, and everything they used to do when strictly friends. Amaris stays behind Tom, looking around for any fame hogs to steer clear of.

    Wherever Amaris went, she had to worry about someone using her to get famous or selling photos to the press. Of course, her being out with Tom wasn't anything new. The tabloids knew they were friends from a young age. But now that she's secretly sleeping with him, she continued to shift from foot to foot, heart pumping with exhilaration. She was out in public with her sideman, and no one knew but them.

    The pair sit in front of their lane, tying up their bowling shoes. "You still bowl with a ten, right?" Tom asks, standing up from his seat. Amaris confirms and goes to set their names in the tracker. She puts Tom under Tommy and hers under Mari. She wasn't the most creative when it came to nicknames.

    The first few rounds go by quickly, both adults focusing on dusting off their bowling skills. They used to bowl together a lot when Amaris was younger. This is the place he would take Amaris when she couldn't stand being a daughter of a millionaire much longer. Bowling was one of the few activities she had that made her feel like an average person again. At least for the duration of the game.

    "Take that, Maria," Tom jokes, finally getting a strike. He doesn't know where the nickname Maria came from, but it's only said during bowling. Amaris flips her friend off and gets set for her next bowl. When all pins are set up, she gets into her stance, focusing all her energy on trying to beat Tom.

    She pulls her arm back, about to let go when Tom's foot collides with her butt, throwing her off balance. The ball slowly rolls into the gutter. Amaris turns around to yell at Tom, stepping back when he's closer than expected. "That's a party foul," She whines.

    "Oh well," Tom says, walking back to his chair smugly. His roguish smile plastered on his perfect face as he takes a seat, leaving Amaris flustered.

    "You're an asshole, Hiddleston," She pouts, going back to the ball return. Tom chuckles and crosses one leg over the other. He felt proud of his actions. Amaris was a better bowler than he was, so he plays dirty when he can. It was also a mild excuse to touch her ass in public. It was the little wins for him.

    The joke was on Tom, though. After his little stunt, Amaris set out to obliterate the man and scored nothing but strikes and spares from then out. Tom steps up to the lines with an exaggerated pout. It was his last bowl, and he had to get a spare with split pins if he was going to try to make the embarrassing difference slightly less embarrassing.

    Amaris falls into a fit of giggles when Tom's ball ends in the gutter, hitting neither pin. Tom stalks over, not offended but feeling a swell of pride at the fact that he made her laugh this hard, all on his own. "Think something's funny, do you, Mari?" He asks hands on hips. The teasing was his favorite part of their dynamic, and he's thankful to all things good that it's back.

    "You bowl like an infant," Amaris continues to giggle, clutching her stomach. The last time she laughed this hard was when Juno slipped off their barstool after one glass too much and could only mumble an incoherent sentence about the 'stupid stool moving when I need it.' Amaris may have been tipsy as well. "I could bowl better from the womb," She continues.

    They both knew the joking and berating was good fun. It's just how Tom and Amaris were. They teased and fool around with each other until one cracks and gushes about loving the other. As friends, of course.

    Tom plops down in the seat beside her, crossing his arms. He could never be mad at her. Especially when she's laughing so hard she has to cover her mouth to muffle snorts. Those were Tom's favorite sounds. Sure, having Amaris scream his name was heavenly, but her snorts meant she felt safe and happy in her surroundings. He can't help but feel his smile widen at the fact that he's her safe spot.

    Amaris lays her head on his shoulder after her laughter dies down. "I'm pretty sure you find yourself funnier than you find me," Tom laughs, resting his arm across her shoulders. She nods, falling into another small fit of giggles.

    "'from the womb,'" She quotes herself. Amaris clears her throat as she sits straighter to look at Tom. "You know I love you, Tom," The words were so innocent, and she's said them to him before, so why did it feel different this time? Her cheeks burn, and her ears ring as if the words rang a bell right in her ear. "But please never take up professional bowling."

    "What do you mean? I could be the comparison person. 'And here we have average Joe to show you exactly how hard this dreaded spot, that's not really a sport, is,'" Tom jokes. Amaris giggles again, shaking her head to the man. "Keep laughing, and I'll throw you down the lane," Tom threatens lightly.

    "Don't threaten me with a good time, Tom," Amaris says, smiling widely at her best friend. It felt like all the guilt and troubles she's felt since Armel came to New York continue to fade into background noise when she's with Tom. He made everything feel brighter and lighter for her. Amaris felt like she could breathe for the first time when she's with him.

    "What? Sliding down the alley?" Tom asks, shifting to look at her better. She was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Amaris's blonde hair was sticking to her face caused by the sweat, her smile was brighter than a thousand suns, and her eyes were like nothing he's seen before. They held so much joy that Tom forgot what sorrow was. Amaris nods. "Why not?" Tom asks, standing up from his spot, offering a hand to Amaris.

    "What?" Amaris asks in shock. She didn't think Tom would want to do something so juvenile with her, especially in public where anyone could see them making fools of themselves. Tom pulls her out of her seat.

    "Life's not fun if you take yourself too serious, Mari," Tom says, backing towards the lane. "You said you wanted to do this, so let's do it. I'll even go first."

    "Are you peer pressuring me?" Amaris asks, crossing her arms. The smirk she wears gives away that she was going to go after Tom anyways.

    Tom nods, a mockingly serious expression on his face. "Absolutely. Is it working?" Tom asks, waiting for Amaris's cue to embarrass himself in front of everyone. Not that he genuinely cared. They'd be a page story for one print, and everyone would forget.

    "You know I crack under pressure," Amaris says. Tom takes that as a yes and turns towards the lane. He takes a running start and maneuvers to slide down the alley on his belly.

    The disappointment he felt when he doesn't slide far makes its way onto his features. His feet weren't past the black line of the lane. Amaris stands behind him, giggling up a storm.

    Tom shuffles over to her, shoulders slumped, and head hung low. "Good luck," He wishes, patting Amaris on the back. She starts running from where she's at and makes it only an inch further than Tom did.

    Amaris jogs over to him, already seeing the staff discussing what to do about them. "That was extremely disappointing, and I think we're about to get kicked out," She laughs, gesturing to the staff. Tom laughs and hurries to sit down, taking off his bowling shoes. Amaris follows suit.

    This was one of the best days she's had since being home. It felt freeing to be out with Tom and not worry about anyone else but him. Her cheeks were growing sore from all the joy showing itself on her face. But the smile was only the tip of the iceberg. Her heart was pumping, and she felt like she was vibrating and needed an outlet for all the emotion. It was almost too much for her small frame to handle.

    Tom felt similar. He enjoyed spending alone time with Amaris. He didn't have to worry about business or what he hadn't done. Amaris helped Tom focus on what he is doing. And what he is doing is having the time of his life sliding down alleyways with the woman he loved with all his heart. As a friend, of course.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos​ @kingtwhiddleston​ @cynic-spirit​

[pallasperilous]

Funny Bone

The other day Supernatural9917 threw out this meme as a cracky Halloween Dean/Cas prompt and I was SO MAD, because I then had to write it:

And so here it is. Goddammit.

Funny Bone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761150 Words: 4930 Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Skeletons, Bad Pick-Up Lines, No Angels AU, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Gore Mature (mentions of lewd acts, canon-typical violence, and some truly horrible pickup lines)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland. It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Discovering the bunker in the first place was a helluva surprise. The whole facility is legitimately batshit; Dead Guys of Letters knew how to live (and, apparently, die. All at once.).

But after plowing through a dozen rooms worth of priceless treasures and crusty boobytraps, even Sam was looking kinda full up on shock and awe.

“We can hit the basement tomorrow,” he said. There was a big smudge of dust across his nose and some cobwebs in his hair.

“Nuh uh,” Dean answered, kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot. “If there’s shit still kicking down there, we gotta clean it out before it cleans us out. It’s that or we’re sleepin’ in the car.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, as if twenty minutes ago he hadn’t been losing his mind over a rare book about werewolf hemorrhoids.

So discovering that the basement included a no-shit actual dungeon felt more like an unanticipated bonus, and stumbling across a skeleton while exploring it barely even registered. Skeletons and dungeons! They go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor, inside a big circle of greasy black ash.  It looked a little mildewy in in places. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

“Welp,” Dean had said, holstering his gun and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re all clear. Let’s head back upstairs, salt the shit out of everything, and then we can pick up some groceries.”

“Do I get to buy a vegetable that doesn’t fit in a bun, or are we still in the refractory period?” Sam snarked from the corridor.

“I don’t see you cookin’, “ Dean started, shuffling back towards the hall, and that’s when the skeleton butted in.

“Are those astronaut pants?” it asked. “Because your ass is outta this world!”

Dean absolutely did not scream, but it’s possible there was a yelp. 

He almost unloaded a clip into it – unclear what that would’ve possibly done, but it’s good to start with the simple, available solutions. Next he nabbed the lighter fluid off of Sam and dumped out half a pound of kosher salt as a chaser and set the fucker alight.

This does not have the intended effect.

“Baby, I’d like to put my meat on your grill,” the skeleton says, greenish flames dancing between its ribs, “because you’re hot, and I’m smokin’.” Then it sits up a little, just enough to shoot Dean some finger guns.

“What the fuck,” Dean says.

Sam makes a little evaluatory noise. “Sexually harassed by a skeleton,” he chuckles. “I think that’s a new one. Even for you. Is that a new one? I know a lot of strange shit went down in Purgatory.”

The skeleton perks up even more at that, grungy eye sockets sweeping up and down Dean’s body. “Are you a time traveler?” it asks. (Maybe he asks, because the voice is pretty deep and dude-ish, although possibly just on account of its vocal cords being leather shoelaces.)

“Wh…no, I’m not a time traveler,” Dean fibs. He’s more of a time trafficking victim, anyway. “Oh, wait, god,” he says. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking that because –“

“– I can see you in my future,” the skeleton finishes, eagerly, and Dean really wishes this thing had eyebrows so he could tell if they’re waggling.

“Yeah, okay. That’s enough for today,” Dean groans. “I need a drink.” He starts to back out of the room as a pre-emptive strike against Bones commenting on how he hates to see Dean leave, but loves to watch him go. Dean’s working on stumbling back again Sam’s left shoe when the skeleton pipes up one last time, this time with a husky, anxious edge.

“I realize that Purgatory isn’t accessible through a simple chronological shift,” it says, teeth chattering. “But it does require travel between modalities, and if you’re capable of that, I would very much like to speak with you again.”

Dean and Sam’s heads slowly swivel back towards the skeleton, like two little pizzas on the same Lazy Susan.

 An hour later, they’re still in the dungeon, working on dousing the skeleton with every possible anti-bad-stuff solution they’ve got, just in case he’s a vampire skeleton or a ghoul skeleton or a witch skeleton or maybe just a wendigo that’s incredibly bad at its job. In between progress reports, he’s still hitting on Dean.

“Dude, don’t you have an off switch somewhere?” Dean asks him.

“Well, Dean, you certainly make me feel like a light switch,–“

“– because you turn me on,” all three of them say in unison.

The skeleton looks a little embarrassed, which is kind of impressive when you think about it. “You’ve…heard that one before?” he asks.

“I spend a lot of time in bars,” Dean deadpans. “Okay, sage is a no-go.”

Sam strikes a line off on the clipboard he found upstairs. “Is this part of a curse or something?” he asks, glancing up at Bones. “Like on top of being a sentient skeleton, you can only speak in horrible pickup lines?”

The skeleton shakes his head, which produces a sound Dean recognizes from his kneecaps on cold mornings. “No, the spellwork allows me to speak freely on most subjects; except who I am, or how to free me. But it’s helpful to use language modern humans can easily understand.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, it is Dean’s native tongue,” Sam says, smirking.

“You shut your face,” Dean hisses.

“When I first saw you, I lost my tongue. Can I try yours on for size?” Bones asks Dean.

“Buddy, I don’t know where you get your information from, but nobody actually talks that way,” Dean tells him. “Nobody sober, anyway. Who isn’t a virgin.”

The skeleton slumps. “I learned from my last visitor. He tried to release me on several occasions, but he either died or abandoned the project.”

Dean arches a brow. “The project being…you?”

“I would be very valuable under the right circumstances.” The skeleton shrugs and casually holds out an arm for Dean to scrape at with the demon blade. “He gave me lessons in modern vernacular as a way to pass our time together.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Dean says, before he can catch himself. “If you have a peach-related pickup line in there, man, you’d better just sit on it.”

“That’s what-“

“I will smash you with a hammer,” Dean barks.

The skeleton relents, but with obvious reluctance.

 They call it quits before Kansas rolls up the sidewalk for the night and leaves them stranded with nothing but two Clif bars and a gross of septuagenarian cans of franks ’n beans. Bones shifts nervously when Dean leaves – “Which is better, pancakes or waffles?” he asks.

“Pancakes,” Dean says, with a sense of grim duty.

“Because I’d like to know what you’re making me for breakfast,” says Bones, his voice trailing off as Dean books it down the stony corridor.

  By lunch the next day (bologna sandwiches, so sue him, he’ll make something good later) they’re pretty sure that Bones doesn’t pose any known, immediate threat – other than to Dean’s sanity – so they switch gears to springing him. Maybe he will be worth something, or maybe he’ll crumble into dust and Be Free, or maybe he’ll just stop being chained to the basement wall, in which case he can become their skeleton butler or something.

There are weird runes on the ankle cuff, so Sam snaps some quick photos and heads upstairs to feel up the library. This leaves Dean in the basement with Bones, some good old-fashioned power tools, and Bones’s ex-suitor’s gross sense of humor.

“You know I can understand you just fine when you’re talking normally,” Dean says. “You’re just reciting some prehistoric shit that idiots say to girls to get a pity-laugh, hoping it leads to a pity-fuck.”

“What’s a pity-fuck?” Bones asks, all mildewy innocence. Dean’s pretty sure the grunge in his eyeball sockets is dried eyeball.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin, my guy,” Dean answers, and reaches for the acetylene torch.

 “Enochian,” Sam says, when Dean surfaces for another sandwich and possibly a beer. He’s really disappointed about the torch.

“Gesundheit?” Dean replies, around a mouthful of bologna. Like everything else here, the kitchen is pretty schwa, although the inside of the fridge required three exorcisms and half a jug of bleach.

Sam paws around the smelly old book in a way that makes Dean feel sorry for the girls Sam dated in high school. “The symbols on the cuff. I think they’re Enochian. It’s a fake celestial language made up by some sixteenth century con artists.”

Dean coughs up a bit of Wonder Bread. “I respect the hustle, but what’s it doing on an ankle cuff in a dungeon younger than Mickey Mouse?”

Sam frowns. “Well, it could be for show. But just because some nutbars made it up doesn’t mean it’s totally powerless. Maybe it does have some kind of…heavenly mojo.”

“Liwl probbem,” Dean observes, finishing off his sandwich. “Def nuh heggen.”

“Huh?”

Dean takes a swallow of beer. “I said: there’s no heaven.”

Sam shrugs. “We didn’t think there was a Purgatory, either.”

“Okay, but if we find out angels are real,” Dean snorts, “then Bones can fuck me in the ass.”

 Sam reports his findings to Bones, who sits placidly on the back of his pelvis, carpals splayed out on his kneecaps. What’s even holding him together? Dean can see what’s left of his ligaments, but they look like petrified gas station jerky.

“Do you know what they mean?” Sam asks him, pointing at the sigils.

Bones’s jaw creaks open a little, then closes again, and then he shakes his skull (something rattles inside.) Finally he makes a little frustrated noise and replies – “Baby, are you a book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

“Hey!” says Dean. “Keep it in your pants, man, I’m right here.”

Sam squints. “I think…Dean, I think he’s trying to tell us something, but the spell on him means he can’t say it directly.”

Bones clenches his fists, releases them, clenches them again.

“Yeah. Keep him talking. Let’s see how close he can get.”

Clack clack clack.

“Uh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Do I need to, like. Give you some kinda opening?” he asks Bones.

“Sweetheart, I’d like nothing better,” Bones answers, then clacks his knuckles on his brow with exasperation.

“Sorry, Christ. Hit me with your best shot, buddy. Dealer’s choice.”

Bones clears his…ghost throat? and tries: “Tell me, Dean…did it hurt?”

Dean blinks. “When I…fell from heaven?”

Sam claps his hands. “Fucking knew it. It is Enochian, and it does have something to do with this. I think he wants me to check the library for another book. Maybe there’s one misshelved or something that I can actually use to translate. Or I can Google around, maybe there’s a subreddit.”

Dean’s pretty sure Bones has never heard of a Google or a subreddit (for that matter, does Dean actually know what a subreddit is?), but it seems like there’s a glimmer of hope deep in those scum-holes.

 Sam gets translations for a few of the words – “obedience” and something he’s fifty percent sure means “millstone” – but the rest is still gobbledygook, and he hasn’t come down with another update in hours. The dungeon is pretty roomy, but it’s not like there’s a foosball table or a cable TV pickup down there, so Dean and Bones wind up lying on the cold-ass ground, staring up into the dark reaches of the ceiling together and, like. Chatting.

Occasionally Bones goes quiet and Dean glances over at him. He really could just be a totally normal, completely dead dungeon skeleton. A good power washing and the right mounting hardware and he’d be ready for a high school biology classroom.

“So if these runes are a celestial thing, does that mean you’re some kinda demonic...thing?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta say, you’re a much less of a douche than the demons I’ve met.” He snorts. “I know you probably can’t say.”

Bones sighs (how? With what lungs?). “The last person who tried to free me was a demon.” He shifts a little, maybe surprised that he can say this out loud. “It had been so long since somebody had spoken to me…I’m afraid I came close to actually enjoying his company. But he was no better than his kind usually are.”

“Don’t suppose you caught his name? Maybe Sam or me killed him for you already.”

“He called himself—no, I can’t say it.” He makes a sound resembling a harumph.

Then his skull creaks over to look at Dean. “Does your name start with ‘C’?” he says, very deliberately.

Dean is momentarily puzzled, but he works it out by the time Bones wincingly adds “…because I’ve got a D that wants to come behind you.”

There aren’t too many demons under the “C” tab in Dean’s blood-stained mental rolodex, and when he says the name out loud, Bones makes a sound like an entire set of dominos being thrown down a spiral staircase.

  Crowley is pretty pissed, which is fun.

It’s nice that the dungeon floor already has a perfect trap on the floor; they don’t even have to hit up Ace Hardware for paint. A damp shop cloth and a little nail polish (Wet ’n Wild in “Red Red,” don’t leave home without it) brings it right up to working order.

“Why does it smell like a nail salon fucked a bloody wine cellar?” Crowley says, after he’s settled down a bit. He manifested right in the creepy torture chair (in the shackles, even! What service!) and he made some escape attempts followed by angry noises about rust stains. Now he’s recovered his dignity and has kicked back a bit, legs crossed, fingers steepled, oozing maximum levels of 2 cool 4 school.

“How do you know what a nail salon smells like?” Dean retorts.

“I get a monthly mani-pedi. There’s no shame in a little self-care, boys.” Crowley’s eyes trickle down to their feet. “Imagine what fungal horrors those work boots must conceal.” Then he squints, and looks up, finally taking in the whole room. “Could swear I’ve been here before. Little upscale for you, isn’t it? Did we splurge for a vacation rental?”

“Crowley, why don’t we roleplay Titanic?” Bones growls from the wall behind him, and Crowley’s face goes slack. “I’ll be the iceberg, and you can go down.”

Crowley swallows and slowly twists back, as far as the shackles let him. “Feathers, is that you? Well, as I live and breathe.”

“You do neither,” says Bones, with so much gravelly contempt that Dean suppresses a little shiver.

“Oh, I still breathe now and then, when the mood takes me. I’m a sentimentalist.” Crowley cranes his neck a little harder and squints into the dim. “Goodness, you’ve dropped some weight since we last spoke, haven’t you. Finally let go of all that pesky soft tissue?”

Bones tilts forward and kind of clatters onto hands and knees, then tipsily begins to rise up to standing. Dean’s a little concerned he’s gonna topple right over and they’re gonna spend the next two hours collecting him in a basket, but when he moves to help out, Bones waves him off. After a couple false starts he makes it up onto his feet bones and then shuffles out to the end of his chain, right under one of the overhead lights. He’s still a good couple feet off from Crowley, but Crowley looks like he wouldn’t mind a few extra acres.

Bones sways a little bit, just enough for Crowley to wince. “You didn’t come back.”

“I got busy.”

Sam shifts impatiently. “What is he?” he snaps, gesturing at Bones.

“Exceedingly dull,” Crowley says. “I should’ve guessed you were friends.”

Dean uncorks a fresh bottle of holy water.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Crowley amends, quickly. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’d be like giving a laptop to a pair of howler monkeys.”

Dean puts his thumb over the mouth of the water bottle and holds it over Crowley’s head. “Try me.”

Crowley scoffs, rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he is, since he’s useless as long as he’s chained up. And I wouldn’t have left him down here if I had a single clue how to smuggle him out.  I haven’t even been in here since the Bay of Pigs; I’d worked a loophole in one of the defense spells here that let me in. When it broke down, I lost my exploit. Wasn’t worth the bother after that.”

Dean slides his thumb a millimeter north of a perfect seal, and a fat drop of water busts its ass open on Crowley’s forehead and sends up a thin line of steam. “Good thing I’ve got a limitless supply of bother,” Dean notes. “Sam, we still got those syringes in the trunk?”

Crowley snarls. “Go ahead and melt me like the cartoon shoe in Roger Rabbit, it’s not going magically make me come up with a solution.”

Bones grunts and rattles his leg chain. “Do you speak Spanish, Crowley? Because you look like the Juan for me.”

“Did I teach you that one? You absolute xylophone.” Crowley glances back at Dean. “Do your worst, Squirrel, I deserve it.”

Sam frowns. “He uses the lines to get around the spell’s speech restrictions. This is something about speaking languages…were you able translate the Enochian symbols on his cuff?”

Crowley blinks. “What symbols?”

 After a whole lot of faffing around with mirrors and terrible cellphone photography, they confirm that Crowley can’t see the symbols at all.

“More demon-proofing. Clever little buggers, those Men of Letters,” Crowley sighs. “A real shame they were peeled and eaten like bananas.”

Finally Sam just hunkers down with a pencil and pad to transcribe the entire ankle cuff, and Dean awkwardly holds up Bones’s ankle, like he’s being sized for a glass slipper. When they shove the results in Crowley’s face, Dean watches his eyes dart along the words.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, boys. Along with the usual wankery, there are instructions on how to release the cuff. I can translate it,” he finally says, with an unusually low inflection of bullshit, “but I’ll thank you to release me, first.”

Dean is flummoxed. “What, you’re not gonna haggle for a cut of the profits or anything?”

“Activating the release mechanism will free him completely, and restore his…restore him. I’d rather be at a safe distance.” He glances back at Bones, looming in the shadows. “A continent or three should do the trick.”

“If it doesn’t work–“

“I’d be more worried about what happens if it does,” Crowley sighs.  “But feel free to summon me back for tea and sympathy. Here, I’ll even give you my number. But please, no personal photography. I pity you enough as it is.”

  Crowley finally smokes out, and Dean has a beer to celebrate while Sam looks over the list of what they need and Bones clatters his fingertips like castanets. The ingredients are (as always) larded with shit that’s exotic and expensive; Sam is looking crestfallen at some of the items. “I’ve heard of all of this, but I’ve only seen maybe half of it for sale anywhere.”

“Baby, are you a yard sale? Because you’ve got some serious junk in that trunk,” Bones monotones. He’s back to lying on the floor.

At least it’s getting easier to translate this shit. “They’ve got all the ingredients here somewhere,” Dean says. Sam looks skeptical. “C’mon, Sam, no way these dudes would use a lock when they didn’t have the key.”

The ensuing scavenger hunt takes a few pints of elbow grease, but at least by the end they’re both familiar with the Bunker’s floor plan, document filing system, and inventory records. They find virtually everything in-house, though they do end up driving to the nearest farm stand for some hen’s eggs and rosemary (and heirloom tomatoes, because they look bomb).

Dean christens – or maybe exorcises – the kitchen range with some red meat, and they fuel up with burgers before taking the plunge. Dean’s still licking the ketchup off his fingers when Bones pipes up one last time. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dean and Sam brace for impact.

Bones sighs. “That’s not the start of a pickup line. I genuinely have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so intent on freeing me? You could have just left me down here. I’m not a threat this way. You only have Crowley’s word that you might profit - or suffer - from my release.”

Sam gives Dean a look; it’s the look that says I sure hope you have an answer, because I think this entire thing has been dumb as shit and half as necessary. It’s a look Sam uses pretty regularly.

“Uh. It’s the right thing to do? As far as I can tell, you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything else to deserve being down here. We went through all those records upstairs, and there’s no note that says ‘by the way, that skeleton downstairs eats babies for breakfast.’ This place is cool, but the dudes who built it were obviously shady as fuck.”

“I see.” Bones sounds a little disappointed.

Sam fake-coughs into his hand, and Dean sets down his paper napkin. “Also, you seem cool. Like, you’re easy to hang out with. Other than the stinky one-liners, and we’re gonna wean you off of those.”

Bones straightens himself out a little. “Thank you, Dean. You know, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rate you a nine.”

“Okay, okay. Why not a ten?”

Bones sets his chin on his knuckle bones with a tidy little clack. “Because I’m the one you’re missing.”

Dean groans, but he thinks the guy might be smiling, somewhere behind that skeletal grin.

 By hour two, Sam’s pretty tuckered out from pulverizing a billion and three mummified dove livers while reciting nonsense syllables, and Dean’s right arm is about to fall off from holding up this giant silver swizzle stick that’s either a really weird short sword or a decorative javelin, but Bones has never looked perkier. He’s lying on a nice white bedsheet and looking fresh as a recently exhumed daisy.

“Okay,” Sam rasps. “Light the candle and we should be good to go. Any last words, Bones?”

“Are either of you religious?” He crosses his arm bones over each other.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers, before Sam gets a chance to launch into it.

Bones shakes his skull fondly. “You should reconsider. Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

Dean makes a gagging noise and lights the candle.

 What happens next (well, after the cuff pops open) is some of the freakiest shit that Dean has ever seen, and his Freaky CV is pretty fucking impressive, thanks. Bones tells them to avert their eyes, “just in case”, but he takes a peek between his fingers anyway, because he’s an idiot.

For a second Bones is just lying there, and Dean has a second of real disappointment that maybe he’s Moved On Past The Veil or something, but then he starts…foaming. It starts out kind of uniform and colorless, but then it really picks up speed and volume and starts to separate into swaths of distinct and horrible colors and textures. He closes his eyes again for a second to give his stomach a chance to reboot, and when he looks again the foam is gone, and instead there’s a whole lot of angry jelly trying to form into organs.

Just as the jelly is really getting its shit together and looking more like lungs and intestines and stuff, the heart-jelly pulses once and sends out a fistful of big squishy vines…veins? and a fat white worm of nerve scrambles down the spinal column and starts putting out franchises. This is followed by some disturbingly tasty-looking red sheets of muscle that swiftly sheathe over all the whole scene, and then the muscles start sweating out fat and cartilage and this is the point where Dean decides that looking away is actually definitely one hundred percent for the best. Even then, the sounds are tough to handle.

Kinda wild: he’s seen people taken apart, but watching one get put back together is somehow gnarlier. Well, if this guy is even a person. It’s a human skeleton, sure, but god knows even Mickey Rourke has one under there.

Finally everything seems to have quieted down.

“How you doin’ over there, Bones?” Dean asks, and dares to take a peek.

Bones is crouched down in front of them, fists balled up in the bedsheets (it’s a relief that the bedsheets didn’t get accidentally sucked into the muscle layer or something, like one of those surgeons who leaves a sponge behind). Dean sees white guy skin and some dark messy hair and gets the gist of a decent build.

The face slowly cranes upwards, and Dean is really truly ready for anything here; tusks, fangs, Klingon forehead ridges, gingivitis. Instead he gets a faceful of hot math teacher. Bones’s eyes are still closed, but he’s frowning like he’s mentally reviewing his strategy to explain the quadratic equation to a roomful of horny teens.

He slowly rises to standing (yikes! Naked! Dean is a Moderately Bad Man, so he glances, but just long enough to register “nice), uncurling slowly and carefully.

Then he’s all the way up. Bones squares his shoulders and straightens the last kink in his spine, and the frown resolves. Dean’s about to say something, when his eyes snap open, and this cold white light absolutely blasts out of them, and fuck, Crowley wasn’t kidding: this guy is definitely A Thing. The whole room flattens and distorts in the light. Shadows race up the walls like they’re looking for a way out, then snap together into the shape of enormous ragged wings, stretching thirty feet higher than the actual ceiling clearance.

Then the light dies down; the wings fade into regular-grade shadows. Instead of a terrifying unearthly avatar of Oh Shit, Dean’s looking at a buck naked thirty-something math teacher. Who happens to be an unearthly avatar of Oh Shit. And has nice eyes.

“My name is Castiel, angel of the Lord, Seraph of the First Shield,” the avatar says, in a piss-shakingly resonant version of Bones’s voice.

Then: “Do you speak English, Dean?”

“Yes?” Dean fumbles.

“So do I,” says Castiel, and smiles.

Then he makes finger-guns.

  Castiel sticks around for a grand total of five minutes before he’s suddenly gone again, because angels are (a) real and they can (b) teleport? at (c) any moment because (d) fuck you, then he reappears six hours later (clothed) standing over Dean’s bed, having apparently forgotten that humans like to sleep; this time Dean does shoot him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it personally.   

“I located Crowley,” Bo- Castiel says. The silver sword-javelin thing is sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; apparently it’s an Angel Blade and it lives in Castiel’s coat sleeve and can vaporize demons. It doesn’t look like it has any Crowley on it, but maybe it’s self-cleaning.

“Did you kill him?” Dean asks, now that he’s semi-coherent and wrapped around a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Not this time,” Cas answers. “He did help, after all.”

“Sure,” says Dean.

“You don’t need to let me fuck you in the ass, either,” Castiel says, and Dean honks some coffee up the back of his nose.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Didn’t realize you could hear that convo all the way down there.”

“Angels have excellent hearing. Mine wasn’t impacted by the spell.”

Dean can think of at least three very private moments Castiel almost definitely could hear every instant of, and longs for death. Or maybe not, since apparently this guy lives in Heaven and could hear him there, too. “Great. Good to know. Noted.”

“But…” Castiel looks wistful.

“What?” Dean nudges him. Dean Winchester: angel nudger.

Castiel frowns. “If I said…” he stops himself. “This is…what I want to say is very irregular, at least between angels and humans.”

“Jesus christ on a goddamn pogo stick, man. It’s three in the morning, some of us have a circadian rhythm and a limited lifespan. Say whatever it is you gotta say.”

Castiel looks up and drowns Dean in his swimming pool eyes, which Dean has learned belong to a radio ad salesman in Illinois, who Castiel possessed a few years back before jumping several decades into the past to run some errands and getting rope-a-doped by the Men of Letters and then warehoused in their basement; after they all spontaneously bought the farm, he just slowly ran out of the power reserves needed to keep his vessel from turning to mush and hey presto, talking skeleton.

Classic story, really.

“If I said you had a beautiful body, Dean,” Castiel says, solemnly, “Would you hold it against m-“

Dean doesn’t let him finish. {AO3 version}

[kotachii]

Amusement Park

Pairing: Ace x Reader

Type: Modern! Au

Summary: While lost in an amusement park, you meet a stranger

   The skies were clear and the day was warm, it would of been a splendid afternoon only if you weren't lost in the amusement park. You came to the amusement park with your friends but you got separated from them after getting off a roller coaster. Apparently, there were three exits and you unknowingly went out a different one than them leaving you all alone in the mist of people. After frankly searching for your friends to no avail, you decided to wander around aimlessly.

       You sigh as you popped down in one of the benches beside the scintillating water fountain located in the center of the park. A frown found it's way on your face as you were tired of searching. You really wanted to go on the "Reverse Mountain", known as the biggest attraction in the Grand Line theme park but going alone would be so embarrassing. You shuddered as you could already imagine the piteous look on affectionate couple's faces as they you alone in line, or the pat on the back the employees give you when you say the dreaded phrase of "single rider". There was no way you were going on any attractions before you find your friends.

       "Hey, why do you look so lonely?", a black haired male asked you as he takes a sit beside you.

       "Um...are you talking to me?"

       "I don't see anyone else."

       "If you are just trying to flirt with me, this is not going to work."

       "Chill, no need to be so serious."

       "I am not trying to, it's just common sense to stay away from strangers."

       "No wonder you look so sad!"

       "What do you mean?", you asked him, bewildered by his statement.

       "If you are always trying to distance yourself from strangers, then, you will never meet anyone. You will live a lonely life," he flashed you a grin as he looked at you straight in the eyes.

       "Well, thank you for your concern but I am not lonely at all", you replied with a slight frown. This man was starting to annoy you.

       "Don't lie. If you are not lonely, why would you be sitting alone in an amusement park just staring at the couple by the ice cream shop?"

       You blushed and shook your head to deny but you were cut off by him asking you sternly, with his smile gone, replaced by a serious expression, "So tell me the truth, why are you all alone?"

      You weren't sure how to respond but due to his genuine concern, you replied in a quiet and embarrassed voice, "Actually, I got separated from my friends I can't find them anywhere."

       "Woah, what an coincidence, I got lost from my friends too", he replied enthusiastically as if it was something to be happy about, "well, if you really are lost then you shouldn't be sitting here, we can go look for our friends together."

       "Together? But we've never met before!"

       "And your point is? Lost people should stick together, that's what my grandpa told me."

       "I don't think it works that way."

       "That's the main difference between me and you, this is how you meet new people," he replied with a wink.

       You couldn't help but chuckle at his silly gesture. Without hesitation, you brushed your pants and stood up, "So Captain, where should we go?"

~~~

       Despite the exuberant meeting, the conversation died down into an awkward silence. You've already walked passed the entrance to "Reverse Mountain", so many times and you are more than excited to go on that ride but of course, you still need to find your friends beforehand.

       "Um...", you stuttered as you realized you didn't know how to refer him, "say, do you want to go on some rides, I mean, we are in an amusement park, right?"

       He turns his head to look at you, "Yeah, you're right, all of this walking around and searching is getting me tired, what rides should we go on?"

       Your eyes shine brightly as your look targets once again on the entrance to "Reverse Mountain", with a grin on your face, you opened your mouth to say, "Reverse Moun-"

       "I know, let's go on the Merry-Go round!", he shouts and interrupts you.

      You yelped as he grabs your wrists and drags you to the waiting line of 5 people to go on the Merry-Go round of the Grand Line Theme Park. While you were disappointed at the low intensity of this ride, you couldn't help but find this guy adorable for choosing this childish ride out of every attractions in the theme park.

       "What a manly ride for a man your size," you said sarcastically.

       "Haha, I was worried you will be too scared to go on the larger rides", he replies grinning as usual.

The two of you chose the horses located beside each other and the Merry-Go round starts to roll to life with music, lights and spinning as it goes.

       "Hey, over here!", he shouts over the music as he holds up his phone and takes a selfie with you. You quickly strike a silly pose and he continue snapping pictures but soon, the ride slows as it looses it's momentum into a stop.

       "That was fun," he said as you two exited the ride, "So, now, where do you want to go?"

       "The Reverse Mountain!", you almost shouted too loudly and enthusiastically.

       "Nuh huh, we should leave the best to the last and plus, the waiting line is an hour right now."

       "Fine, I guess it is your pick again", you said, slightly pouting your cheeks.

       "The Haunted Mansion looks great", he said.

       "E-Eh?", you panicked a bit since you have always been scared of ghosts and supernatural being and not to forget, the Grand Line's Haunted Mansion has always been known as a "pirate's graveyard" due to it being so scary and realistic.

       "How a-about late-er?", you replied stuttering a bit.

       "Is someone scared?", he teases you with a smirk on his face.

       "No, I just think we should save the best one for the last," you lied.

       "Haha, you are cute when you try to act tough, don't worry, I will protect you from anything scary and plus, we already have Reverse Mountain placed for last."

~~~

       You bit your lips nervously as you were handed a lantern to share between you and him. The employee in the entrance told you two to walk directly down the hall, turn left and walk up the staircase and follow the arrows on the ground and of course, the cliched saying of "beware for supernatural beings". The farther down the hall you walk, the more nervous you felt. The hall was illuminated solely by the dim lantern the man, which you still haven't ask his name yet, was holding. As that thought cross your mind, you decided to finally ask your companion for a proper introduction. As of now, you were already up the staircase, and there has been nothing except for fake cobweb and old furniture.

       "Hey, Mr. Companion, you know, you've never introduced yourself", you said but was hushed by him immediately.

       "Wait, don't talk, I think I hear something," he said as he holds up the lantern to silence you.

       The two of you stop mid-track and the silences takes over once again except this time, you heard a creaking noise. You could feel your heart pounding since neither you or him was moving, yet the ground was creaking and faint footsteps could be heard. Your companion turned his lantern around a few times to illuminate the otherwise pitch-black hall but no sign of another person's presence could be seen.

       "Let's just keep moving, I don't wanna be here anymore", you said as you lean in closer to him.

       "This haunted mansion really lives up to it's title, don't you agree? Even I am getting chills," his voice trailed off towards the end.

       "I fee-"

       You weren't able to finish your sentence as a figure dressed in a glowing white gown suddenly hanged down from the ceiling right in front of you. Blood was dripping from it's fabric, long black hair cascading over it's face into messy tangles and knives hooked onto their bony fingers. A scream erupted from your throat as adrenaline flows through your body. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and tears threatening to flow out. You were beyond scared but to your surprise, in a swift of a motion, the man who was walking with you pulled you into his chest to prevent you from seeing the prop that hanged down from the ceiling. You could feel his warm hands on the back of your head, your face engulfed by his sweet aroma. You kept your eyes shut as your face was still buried into him, after about a minute or so, you could hear a cranking and he finally spoke.

       "Hey, are you alright?", he asked.

You tried your best to nod even though your face was still pressed into his chest.

       "It's gone now, it was just a fake prop they used but I guess it did look very realistic", he assured you as he slowly let go of you from the hug.

       You felt embarrassed by your actions but much to your surprised, you missed the warmness of his comfort.

       "Let's get out of here", he said with a warm smile on his face. He grabbed your wrist once again and pulled you along with him. You two jogged out of this haunted mansion without paying attention to any other decor or actors looking to scare the trespassers. You no longer felt scared knowing that he was here to protect you but by this mere thought, you could still feel your heart pounding. You weren't sure if it was from the fear of this mansion or maybe, you felt a new feeling tugging inside your heart.

   You welcomed the sunlight of the exterior as you were more than glad to have exited the dreadful haunted mansion. This is the first time you've admitted of your fear of ghosts to others because you liked to be considered as a strong woman but you didn't felt uncomfortable about sharing this side of you to him.

       "So, what were you going to ask me while we were inside?", he asked you as soon as you left the mansion.

       "I was going to ask you about your name," you replied matter-of-factly.

       "Ah, I didn't tell you my name?", he asks you looking confuse.

       "No, you didn't."

       "Really? I thought I did, are you sure?"

       "Yes I am positive I still have no idea who you are."

       "Ace. My name is Portgas D. Ace," he replied, holding out his hand for a handshake.

       "I'm (Name) (Last Name)," you said, accepting his handshake.

       "(Name) (Last Name).....this sounds so familiar," he said as he tilts his head to the side.

       "Really? Where?"

       "I know I've heard it somewhere but I don't know where."

       "How about you, your name sounds really mysterious, what does the "D." stand for?"

       "I am not sure myself, I think it's just a family thing. Anyways," he said changing the topic, "do you want something to eat?"

       "I am not that hungry."

       "Well, I am, the last to the ice cream shop is paying!", he shouted as he charged into full speed sprinting towards the ice cream shop.

       "Hey, wait no fair!", you chased him but was not able to catch up to his speed.

~~~

              The day was ending and so was your adventures with this stranger called Ace. The two of you still haven't found your friends and the park will be close in an hour or so. The sunset stretches the shadows within the park leaving long silhouettes plastered on the ground. You and Ace were walking side by side, no longer going on rides since both of you "Yeah," you trailed off, scared that he might propose for the two of you to go your separate ways.

       "This day was fun," he said, looking at the sky as it starts to turn into an orange and pink artwork.

       "Umm... Ace, do you want to maybe....s-stay in touch?", you asked blushing deeply.

       "Looks like you're not that bad at making friends", he said chuckling, "how about I give you my phone number?"

       Then, you suddenly remembered that you had your phone this entire time. You could of called your friend a long time ago. You were a dumbass for sure but if you weren't so forgetful, you would of never met Ace. You gave him your phone and he wrote down his name and his number, and you did the same on his phone.

       "Oi! (Name)! Where did you go?", you heard your friends call you from behind. You turned around and waved back. You were about to thank Ace again for today but he was gone. However, a message appeared on your phone.

Ace <3: What d'you say to a cup of coffee tomorrow?

[artificialqueens]

Come Through Like the Sweetener You Are (Gottrosnali) - Writworm42

A/N: hey everyone! I’m really excited about this ship and about this fic, so I hope y'all like it. Title from Sweetener by Ariana Grande. Thank you thank you x1000 to Holtz for beta-ing, encouraging me, and brainstorming with me, you’re the best <3

“Mik, seriously, get on the ice. C’mon.”

Denali stays planted at the entrance of the rink, arms crossed as he watches his boyfriend shrink back shyly once again. If they hadn’t been at this for several minutes now, the sight of Mik so flustered and vulnerable, his ankles wobbling from the effort of holding himself up in his rental hockey skates and teeth chattering from the cold would have been pretty cute. It’s rare, seeing Mik this daunted by something, and it reminds Denali of the little kids he used to teach when he was a teenager. But, much like those kids after a six week cycle of classes, it’s starting to get old now, and they need to move—free-skate is starting to get crowded, and every passing skater that shoves their way past them seems to spook Mik just a little more.

He has to get Mik onto the ice, otherwise, he’s gonna have to get off it, and their skating date will be over before it’s even started.

“It’s okay, D, let me handle this, yeah?” Rosé comes up behind Mik just then, striding out from the changing room with a sympathetic smile on his face, as if he had anticipated the standoff. Knowing Rosé, he probably has, really—but Denali isn’t going to let him know that. He doesn’t need both his boyfriends ganging up on him, after all.

That’s a problem for another time, though; right now, Denali focuses on just shuffling to the side of the rink while Rosé wraps his arms around Mik, leaning over to kiss the smaller man on his temple.

“You okay, baby?” he checks in softly, giving Mik a little squeeze.

“I’m okay, I’m just…”

“You don’t need to be scared, sweetheart. D’s a pro, remember? And I’m here, too. We’ll make sure you’re safe, promise—Denali’s gonna be holding your hands, and I’m gonna be behind guarding your waist.”

Denali would be lying if he said he isn’t jealous of the way Rosé is with Mik in these moments, how easy it seems for him to make the other man relax. It’s not like he’s being mean, after all—he’s been coaxing and encouraging Mik ever since finding out that he’s never skated before. But for some reason, with Rosé in the mix, it just…clicks.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Mik sighs, rolling his eyes theatrically, “but only if Denali promises not to let go of my hand.”

The glimmer of validation and knowing he’s needed is enough to make Denali feel warm to the core as he glides forward, stops to take Mik’s hand. “I won’t, promise.”

“There’s a good boy,” Rosé teases, and Denali can’t help but giggle at how Mik blushes fiercely at the praise.

He leads Mik to toe-step onto the ice, marching him in place until they’re safely away from the entrance and off to the side in the back area of the rink, near the walls of the learner’s corner.

“So, like, can I hold onto—“

“Nope, we’re not letting you get into the habit.” Denali steels his grip on Mik’s hand as the man tries to reach for the rink’s walls, watching him pout as his attempts are thwarted. “You won’t be able to skate as well if you’re hugging the wall the whole time, trust me.”

“I’m not gonna skate that well as is.“ Mik huffs under his breath, but it’s no use protesting—all three of them know that Denali’s not going to hear it.

No, if he’s going to teach his boyfriend how to skate, then he’s going to do it right. Especially since realistically, being an LA boy at heart, Mik will likely never set foot on the ice again after today, so Denali really does only have this one shot.

Luckily, he’s dealt with enough kids by now to know how to get them comfortable.

“Let’s just start with some marches on the spot, yeah? C’mon, Rosie and I’ll do it with you.” he nods over to Rosé, and the both of them lift up their feet in sync, quiet chk-chk-chk noises echoing off the ice.

Mik watches hesitantly before finally throwing caution to the wind and joining them in their steps. He beams as he does, and Denali can’t help the pride that blooms in his chest—his sweetheart’s a natural, after all.

Of course, it’s at that very moment that Mik slips and starts to scramble, eyes wide until Rosé catches him around the waist.

“Oh shit.” Mik lets out a shaky laugh as Rosé pushes him back up with Denali’s help. “Not me almost dying with my boyfriends fully hanging onto me.”

“You didn’t almost die,” Rosé snorts, rolling his eyes, “We caught you, right?”

“And we’ll do it again, as much as we have to,” Denali chimes in, and Mik must know he means it, because even though he rolls his eyes, he smiles gently, his eyes soft and glowing with trust.

“Okay, from the top, let’s try marching forward now.” Rosé cuts through the tender moment with a light tap to Mik’s ass, grinning widely.

“Perv.” Mik launches over his shoulder, sticking out his tongue and scrunching up his nose, but he starts to step again.

They continue like that around the learner’s area for a length or so, Mik occasionally tripping up and needing to stop to hyperventilate for a moment before they can keep going, until they finally settle into a smooth rhythm that tells Denali that Mik is ready for something more. In fact, he’s pretty excited for it–even just over this small period of time, Mik’s confidence has definitely grown, and even though he’s kept a death-grip on Denali’s hands, Rosé has long gone from holding onto Mik to simply keeping his arms up close to him just in case, and Mik hasn’t actually seemed to notice. It makes Denali’s heart swell with pride, and when he looks into his boyfriend’s eyes and sees the excitement shining in them, he can’t help but feel warm inside, remembering how exciting it was for him the first time he’d moved on the ice, way back when.

“What do you think, Rosie, is he ready for gliding?” Denali peeks over at Rosé, whose hands have dropped completely from Mik’s waist and are now shoved into her jacket pockets.

“Oh, I think he’s ready for gliding,” Rosé grins, “Mik, you ready for gliding?”

Mik turns around to look at Rosé and almost falls again, but this time steadies himself, letting out a disbelieving laugh when he gets back upright. “After this gorge performance?” he strikes a pose, framing his face, “You guys, I’m so ready to gl–”

Before he can finish his sentence, a kid barely reaching his hip-level whizzes past, displaying excellent control and holding her leg up for one, two, three seconds before coming to a perfect stop in front of her parents.

It’s probably the longest Mik has ever gone without talking, the silence once again only broken by Rosé beginning to sing wake up in the morning, thinkin’ ‘bout so many things, followed by Mik and Denali both bursting out in laughter.

“So now that we’ve had our little self-aware gag moment, should we get to gliding?” Mik wipes a tear from his eye as the laughter dies down, and Denali and Rosé only nod before re-assuming their positions around him.

Denali tightens his grip on Mik’s hand but skates a little farther out to widen the distance between them and Rosé skates up from behind to bring his hands near Mik’s waist, not yet touching but ready to catch him just in case, and they feel the air around them change, Mik visibly relaxing at the re-institution of his safety net.

Of course the same kid chooses that very moment to whizz past them again while sporting a huge, shit-eating grin, and Denali has to wonder if she’s doing it on purpose now.

“Is it rude to trip a child?” Rosé ponders out loud, perhaps a little too loudly. “D, it’s good practice for them, right? Learning how to fall and get up?”

The kid stops mid-skate and changes her direction, and Denali has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek not to laugh again.

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get to gliding.”

Denali watches over his boyfriends’ shoulders as the kid glides out of the learner’s corner to join the regular circuit, and feels a little relief at how much safer it suddenly seems, with only wall-clingers, other marchers, and toddlers with tired parents left. Good; he can finally focus on Mik again. “Ready?”

“Gorge, let’s do it.” Mik nods resolutely, and Denali begins to pull him forward, grinning from ear to ear as Mik lets out a little squeal of excitement and pride as they begin to move.

—

“Okay, now sit here, behave yourselves, and stay quiet. ” Denali points sternly over to the bleachers by the rink, frowning at Mik and Rosé and hoping that his tone is enough for them to take him seriously.

Predictably, though, both of them just grin mischievously, blowing on their hot chocolates casually as if they’re not already dreaming up ways to embarrass him as Rosé shrugs, “No promises.”

“I swear to God—“

“Go practice, D. We’ll be perfectly behaved little angels, I swear,” Mik cuts in, batting his eyelashes innocently, and Denali resists the urge to snort at the statement.

He wishes he could believe them, he really does, but he also knows these clowns better than that by now, and knows that he is in for at least one shout of ‘ HE ON X GAMES!!’ before he steps off the ice again.

He doesn’t have time for skepticism, though—for better or for worse, it’s time for his practice session, and he had promised Rosé and Mik that they could watch.

Rosé and Mik have seen Denali perform a hundred times. Even before Denali and Rosé had started dating Mik, he had come to all of Denali’s shows with Rosé to support him, and to this day, they both hang onto the edge of their seats when Denali skates, taking him out for drinks after and excitedly retelling how gorge that triple lutz was or how much they loved his costume or how proud they were of him. They had learned everything about skating, all the terminology and competition rules. They know exactly what Denali likes to do to unwind after a long day of rehearsals, how to facilitate his pre-audition routine and what he needs to hear before and after one.

And yet, there’s something about his practices, especially the one-on-ones, that feel…sacred. Vulnerable. Like they’re for his and his coach’s eyes only. Like if anyone is around to see him fall flat on his ass, fuck up a combo so bad the whole rest of the number is thrown, then something will click for the spectator, a realization that he’s not so talented after all.

For those spectators to be his boyfriends? Well, sure, realistically, he knows that they would never think that about him. They’re his partners, after all, and they’re human too. He’s been in the house when Rosé is practicing a song and his voice cracks, and he’s walked in on Mik trying new makeup techniques that look… less than gorge, he’ll put it that way. In both of those moments, he’s never thought anything about either of them except that their efforts and dedication are adorable, and that for sure, they’ll get it next time.

But still–they’ve got confidence in him, think that he’s perfect. They’ve never seen him slam into the wall because he put too much power into his travelling, or wobble on his feet and make a messy landing because he hesitated on one of his jumps. Even the thought that they might see him imperfect–that they might get disappointed in him, that their image of him might change, is so painful it makes it hard to breathe.

No, when he’s on the ice performing, he’s untouchable. Above everything. Queen of the world. And if there’s two people in the world he doesn’t want to shatter that image for, it’s the his boyfriends sitting at the end of the rink, already whipping their phones out to record him stretching.

Oh, God. Now if he messes up, everyone on Instagram will see it.

He swivels around to face away from the windows of the rink and put his boyfriends out of his mind as he begins to stretch, bending down to touch the tips of his bare fingers to the frigid, freshly-smoothed ice, only to almost topple over when Rosé’s voice echoes through the rink.

“ YES, SHOW US THAT ASS, MAMA! GET FLEXIBLE!”  

Christ.

Well, he’s still got about a half hour left to warm up and practice on his own before his coach shows up. Might as well give those two fools a show.

He brings his leg up and stretches it above his head easily without holding onto the wall, and grins when he hears both men absolutely lose their shit, screaming and praising and probably making a million boomerangs. He almost wishes he could turn back to see the looks on their faces, really, though he knows he’d probably fall if he did. So instead, he drops his foot and does it on his other side, this time pulling it a little farther so that it’s behind his head, and it strains a bit, but it’s manageable, and the way Mik and Rosé’s screams get even louder makes it completely worth it.

“Three words: Gag. A. Tondra !” Denali hears Mik shout, either straight to him or to his phone, but suddenly, it doesn’t matter. This is the most fun he’s ever had just stretching, and when he’s laughing and smiling like this, it’s easy to forget where he is and what he had even been nervous about in the first place. So he can be a bit of a show-off at times—sue him. He’s living for it more and more with every stretch, and he finds himself getting excited to actually start skating.

He begins to mark his latest routine, spinning lightly and moving his hands to signal every jump as he looks down at the ice, trying to remember every move. It’s a new routine, one he’s only just fully learned but has to perform at an opening gala in two weeks, so he needs to have it perfect, and soon. Especially since he has a group routine for the same gala knocking around in his head, too, and he can’t let them get mixed up. It makes his chest tighten a little just at the thought of it, his attention so completely absorbed in his run through that he’s startled when he hears the boom of the rink’s gate swing open, surprised enough to lose his footing and stumble, tripping over his skates and falling to the ground.

Shit, fuck, and shit again. Not even half an hour into his practice and he’s already fucked up right in front of Mik and Rosé. And just when he was doing so well, knocking them dead with barely any actual stunts yet. They must think he’s stupid, getting scared by something as stupid as a noise he’s so used to, and now he’s lost his train of thought and can’t remember where he was in his routine—

“Go on, Nali! You can do this!”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie!”

“We love you!”

His head snaps up to see Mik and Rosé standing up, clapping their hands and smiling warmly as they shout their encouragement across the room. It hits him then, exactly what Mik and Rosé have been cheering on this whole time. Not his success, not the flashy tricks and stunts he knows he can blow anyone away with. Not even his talent, really.

They’ve been cheering for his effort. For his enjoyment. For his passion. For the Denali they see on the ice whether he’s in his head or not, regardless of whether his movements are graceful or sloppy. The thing they’ve been enjoying most, so enthusiastic about this whole time?

It’s not figure skating. It’s Denali. He could be doing anything anywhere, and they’d be screaming and cheering and supporting him no matter what, because they don’t care what he’s doing–they just care that it’s him.

“Quite the cheering section, huh?” his coach steps out towards him, grinning as she looks over towards where Mik and Rosé are still watching, still waving and making hearts with their hands every time Denali looks over, and it’s all he can do not to get emotional when he smiles widely, nodding.

“Yeah. The best.”

And Hell, maybe it’s luck, maybe it’s just how happy he is. Maybe Mik and Rosé are just that good an influence to have around. Either way, that practice session is definitely his best one yet.

–

The first thing Denali does the minute they all step back into their apartment that evening is make a beeline for the couch to collapse. He feels the fatigue sinking down into his bones the minute his body hits the cushions, making him heavy yet content, happy to wriggle and get comfy before letting the exhaustion of the day fully wash over him. There’s something satisfying about being in this state, so spent from such a fun day. It’s like every memory he’s made today is carried in his muscles even this long after the adventure is over, each sigh he lets out a catalogue of every laugh, every smile, every bit of happiness he’d experienced in his adventures.

Not to mention how when he’s this tired, Rosé and Mik are eager to spoil him, but that’s besides the point.

“Can we get you anything, baby?” Rosé comes up behind the couch, reaching down to run a gentle hand through Denali’s hair. “Some dinner, maybe? Tea? A massage?”

“Will that last option come with a happy ending?” Denali jokes slyly, turning his head just in time to see Rosé roll his eyes, laughing a bit to himself.

“As much as I’d love that, this bitch is tired too, mama. Now scoot over a bit, make some room for me.”

“Mm.” Denali kicks his legs a little in protest, but obliges, pulling himself up on the couch just enough to give Rosé room to kneel over him comfortably. Within moments, Denali is melting under the other man’s touch, letting Rosé’s hands work the knots and fatigue from his back and shoulders slowly, tenderly, exactly the way he needs.

“Where’s Mik, by the way?” Denali ponders as Rosé begins to ease off, content with his work and how Denali has gone limp from it. It’s rare not to hear from Mik this long, not have him bounce around and whine for attention of his own from both of his partners, so Denali can’t help but feel a little suspicious at the quiet. If Mik is occupied, he’s either focusing on something or doing something he shouldn’t be, and if it’s the latter, then–

The smoke alarm answers Denali’s question before Rosé can so much as open his mouth.

“Shit, shit, SORRY!” Mik calls out from the kitchen. “Don’t worry you guys, I got this–”

“You’re supposed to be making ramen!” Rosé calls back over the shrill beep of the alarm, followed by a chair scraping along the kitchen floor. “How the fuck did you burn ramen?”

The smoke alarm goes quiet, and Denali has to cover his mouth from laughing as Mik protests, “I saw this gorgeous recipe that Ariana posted for this like, pan-fried noodles artistry moment, and I thought, hey, ramen is noodles, so why not?”

“Gee, I dunno, maybe ‘cause you’ll burn the apartment down?” Rosé pinches the bridge of his nose, but Denali can see that he’s trying not to smile.

“Well I didn’t, so crisis averted, problem solved.” Mik whips around the corner and points a fork at them with narrow eyes, and Denali can’t hold it anymore–he lets out a loud string of giggles, which become howls of laughter when Mik stamps his foot, pouting and demanding that Denali stop laughing at him. After a second, though, Rosé joins in, and then even Mik can’t resist letting out a chuckle despite himself.

“Okay baby, sit down with Denali, let the adults handle this.” Rosé teases as he heaves himself up from his position on the couch, tapping the cushion beside him to invite Mik over.

“Hey, I’m an adult!” Mik pouts, but Rosé doesn’t respond, only walks up to Mik to give him a little kiss before patting him on the head.

“Of course you are, sweetie,” he coos, pulling away just in time to narrowly avoid a swat from Mik. “Seriously, though, I’ll be right back–why don’t you and D pick something to watch in the meantime?”

Mik doesn’t look particularly satisfied with the suggestion, but makes his way over to the couch nonetheless. Denali watches him come over, even extends his arms out for his boyfriend to walk into, but it’s then that he realizes his mistake. Mik’s pout fades, and a glint of mischief shines in his eyes, and before Denali can shield himself, Mik pounces, landing pretty much in Denali’s lap and attacking him with a hug.

“Hi, gorge.” Mik’s voice is soft as he nuzzles into Denali, a dreamy smile on his face. It’s precious, really, the way Mik is glowing as he squeezes Denali tight, and Denali can’t help but run a hand through the shorter man’s hair before peppering a light kiss on the top of his head.

“Did you have fun today, baby?”

Denali pulls Mik just a little closer, his heart melting at the little mm of satisfaction Mik lets out as the closing of distance between them allows him to splay out a little, head resting on Denali’s shoulder. It’s almost enough to distract from the sudden uptick in Denali’s heart rate that he can feel, the stakes resting on the question suddenly sinking in for him. This day, after all, was a way of letting Mik into his world, more up-close than the LA native ever had before. And he really, really wants Mik to like that world.

Luckily, his fears are put to rest when Mik nods, his dopey, tired grin taking on a spark of excitement as he reassures Denali, “It was great, D. I loved it. Almost as much as I love you.”

Denali rolls his eyes at the cheesy line, but nonetheless, when Mik cranes up to kiss him on the cheek, he feels a rush of happiness swell in his chest. Not just at the fact that Mik had enjoyed their day, but also the fact that it is ending like this - curled up on the couch with his boyfriend leaning against him, craning up to give him playful, light kisses wherever he can plant them. Still, there’s something missing, another presence that would make this cozy scene truly home. Something, some one that would cuddle him in turn, hold him and squeeze him and–

“Are you guys cuddle-piling without me?” Rosé puts his hand to his chest as he gasps in mock-offense, propping a tray of piping-hot ramen cups against his body with his other arm. Denali laughs a little, because it’s cute how pouty Rosé looks at the prospect of being left out of all this affection, but he answers nonetheless by letting go of Mik briefly, extending his arms out and making grabby hands to invite Rosé to join them.

“Yay, sandwich!” Mik squeals with delight as Rosé gets on the other side of him, wrapping his arms around Mik and just reaching Denali’s waist with his fingers. It’s enough to make Denali melt, even the light contact enough to feel like he’s home. He lets out a contented sigh, wiggling a little to get comfortable and shimmy just a little more into Rosé’s outstretched hands, before he relaxes fully, his eyes fluttering closed as he feels his breath sync with his boyfriends’, their hearts beating almost as one.

“We should probably eat before the ramen gets cold, right?” Mik speaks up after a moment, but makes no attempt to move, and Denali just smiles, shaking his head.

“Let it keep cooling. I wanna stay like this for a little longer.”

[haec-est-fides]

Hi, can we discuss how -- however he was influenced by Gaea -- Octavian was likely very familiar with the Triumvirate? It’s subtle, but it shows up most clearly in the way he talks.

(Personally, I think Octavian might have been raised by one of the Imperial Households, but you could just read it as him being in contact with the Triumvirate for a significant amount of time.)

The most glaring red flag imo is that we learn from Rachel (in Hidden Oracle) that the Greek / Roman parley in House of Hades was held on property owned by Nero. This is more important than the fact that Octavian was merely funded by Triumvirate Holdings, because a) it makes an in-person meeting more likely and b) Luke was also funded by the Triumvirate and he doesn’t have the same connection that I’m seeing in Octavian.

Looking back to the parley scene, Octavian goes so far as to mock Rachel by saying, “You’re the Oracle of Delphi? Right. And I’m the Emperor Nero.” It may feel like a throwaway line, but it’s foreshadowing, plain and simple. In universe, I’m almost entirely certain that the reason Octavian says Nero and not Augustus (his namesake, as he loves reminding people) is that he’d recently talked to Nero and knows whose building they’re on. It’s like a Freudian slip -- and it’s just the tip of the iceberg, because Octavian slips up like that a lot.

Let’s start small: Octavian tends to speak in a rather dramatic, formal way. (He says “alas” in ordinary conversation, for instance.) He’s intentionally dramatic and somewhat sarcastic at times, sure, but I think it goes deeper than that. {I bring up one of my headcanons here, but it isn’t the crux of the whole argument. Bear with me.} I find it likely that Octavian learned Latin as his first language -- namely from the fact that his family has been sending kids to Camp Jupiter for over a century and his attachment to the idea of being a true / traditional Roman -- which would have an impact on how he speaks English. It would make sense, then, that his English speech patterns are similar to those of other native Latin speakers -- like the Triumvirate.

Trials of Apollo shows us that the triumvirs also tend to use more formal English, such as avoiding contractions and using what we might consider to be dated terms and phrasings (though this certainly isn’t a hard rule). Again, I don’t think it’s really conscious, but rather a byproduct of being native Latin speakers. In Hidden Oracle, for example, Nero says (to Apollo), “My own forefather does not recognize me?” I’d consider both his use of the word “forefather” and his avoidance of “doesn’t” to be a concise example of what I’m talking about.

It’s also true that few other characters use “alas” like Octavian does. In Heroes of Olympus, it’s only gods / titans / monsters who use the word “alas” (besides Octavian). In Trials of Apollo, it’s actually Apollo himself who uses that word the most (though remember, he’s also the narrator). He says “alas” 5 times in Hidden Oracle and ups it to 12 in Dark Prophecy. Do I need to keep counting? Beyond Apollo’s narration, Macro, Medea, and Caligula all say “alas” at least once in Burning Maze. All of these characters speak ancient languages, and half of them are native Latin speakers. I’ll admit that maybe it isn’t wholly a Latin thing, but there’s still a case for Octavian speaking in a way that could have been influenced by the emperors and their entourages.

Moving a step beyond nitpick, the connection between Octavian and the Triumvirate can also be seen in what Octavian says and the words he uses throughout Heroes of Olympus. We can split the analysis into 3 ideological themes, really: loyal Romans, immortality, and the future.

In Son of Neptune, Octavian calls himself a “loyal Roman” in a conversation with Percy. It’s rhetoric, a succinct yet subtle way to express Octavian’s ideology / self-conception / political striving, and that’s exactly the point. Later, in Blood of Olympus, Michael Kahale criticizes the people that Octavian is recruiting into the legion, calling them murderers, thieves, and traitors. Octavian, on the other hand, calls them “loyal demigods” -- again, fully aware of the rhetoric of that statement. Bryce Lawrence, one of said recruits, calls himself a “loyal Roman” too in order to appeal to Octavian and be permitted to rejoin the legion after his exile.

The reason this recurring “loyal Roman” motif strikes me is that it’s eerily similar ideology and phrasing to something Nero says in Hidden Oracle. Apollo asks, “The other two emperors. Who are they?” and Nero responds, “Good Romans -- men who, like me, have the willpower to do what is needed.” A line from Caligula’s speech before battle in Tyrant’s Tomb echoes the same sentiment: “It’s time to be true Romans!” In Tower of Nero, Nero also talks about bringing back “traditional Roman values”.

Apollo hits the nail on the head with his commentary: “The fact that Nero -- a man who had killed his own mother -- was talking about defending traditional Roman values...that was just about the most Roman thing I could imagine.” The whole point in all of these cases is that the men talking know that the modifiers they use are 100% oratorical, are dog whistles to those who think the same way and near gaslighting to those who don’t. These modifiers -- “loyal”, “good”, “true”, “traditional” -- mean something entirely different to the person saying them than they do to the heroes / average person! That’s a fascinating and complex parallel.

Immortality comes up in similarly echoed ways, showing that Octavian and the Triumvirate seem to be on the same page, coming from the same viewpoint, thinking alike. In Son of Neptune, what Octavian says to Mars is interesting especially in light of the Triumvirate. Mars, explaining the danger posed by the open Doors of Death, asks the gathered legion, “Can you imagine a world in which no one dies -- ever?” Octavian, despite his showy deference, interrupts the god, “But, ah, mighty all-powerful Lord Mars, if we can’t die, isn’t that a good thing? If we can stay alive indefinitely--” Octavian isn’t outright stupid, so I doubt he’s entirely thinking through what he says here. Of course it would be bad for one’s enemies to never die, but if you consider Octavian to be the type to be tempted by immortality? His interruption seems more in character and more likely if he has immortals or even aspirations to immortality in mind at the time.

In Blood of Olympus, Reyna’s vision of the Roman war-camp gives more weight to what I’ll call the immortality hypothesis. She notes Octavian’s “gilded chair that looked suspiciously like a throne”, how his new title of Pontifex Maximus elevates him “almost to the level of emperor”, and of course there’s the altar: “a marble altar....no doubt for the gods. But to Reyna it looked like an altar to Octavian himself.” In Hidden Oracle, it comes up several times -- even from Nero himself -- that the Triumvirate turned the ancient Imperial Cult into something powerful, something that could make them immortal. The Imperial Cult, at its simplest, looked a lot like what Octavian is doing in Reyna’s vision. Whether the Triumvirate told Octavian to do any of this, he got the idea from them, or he came up with it on his own, it’s another sign of similar thinking, at the very least.

Finally, the future -- which, of course, is bound to come up often where an augur is concerned, but I’m thinking of one line in particular. In Blood of Olympus, Octavian tells Michael about his plans, blatantly admitting that he’s aiming to declare himself “First Citizen” like his ancestor Augustus. (That title is princeps in Latin, and it’s an imperial title all three of the triumvirs use.) His Augustan lineage, which makes Octavian a legacy of Apollo from the same bloodline source that both Nero and Caligula get that status from, is another puzzle piece. Octavian is open about his heritage, his family is recognized as wealthy and powerful in New Rome and yet is never present there, and the Triumvirate seems unlikely to lose track of their relatives. Even so, what Octavian tells Michael next is a less speculative tie: “We will rule the future.” This is, specifically, the way Apollo frames the threat posed by the Triumvirate throughout Trials of Apollo once he becomes aware of their plan regarding Python and the oracles. A lot of that description comes after Apollo hears something Nero says to Python: “When we control all four Oracles, we will control fate itself!”

I suppose a facetious TL;DR might be that if you told me that Nero (canonically the best orator in the Greco-Roman Riordanverse) had been giving Octavian (canonically the best orator at Camp Jupiter) lessons in oratory or that Caligula had taken Octavian under his wing and every Tuesday they talked about world domination over coffee, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Maybe this post is more of a Rorschach inkblot test for myself and how I read these books. Maybe I’m trying to read way too deeply. Whatever the case, I think that there’s something more to be said about Octavian and the Triumvirate than funding, and no one has been saying it.

[julesdap]

your albatross, shoot it down

read on ao3

During their escape from Dark Matters, Juno makes the choice to take Sasha with him.

It’s like clockwork, Sasha thinks. 

Since she’s made a point to be as uncooperative as possible, Aurinko’s stopped the faux-friendly negotiations and simply given the order to lock her in the spare room, bare but for a bed, a bathroom, a chair and table, a porthole, and a surveillance camera. As far as she can tell, Aurinko, Ilkay, and Siquliak take turns guarding her, while Rita keeps track of the video feed.

They’re spread thin, wary, tired, missing a member of their crew, and tensions are made high by just her presence. It would not be impossible to escape. 

Sasha doesn’t try. Yet. 

And three times a day, on the dot, like clockwork, Juno’s let in with a tray of food. 

“Be careful, Steel,” Ilkay growls, which is procedure by now. 

Juno waves her off; he doesn’t even carry his blaster in here, either because he doesn’t want to take the risk that Sasha will try to disarm him, or because he simply thinks Sasha doesn’t pose enough of a threat. Sasha can’t tell which one. She’s found that she can’t tell much about Juno Steel, these days. 

Ilkay sends Sasha one last warning look, and then the door slides shut. 

“Hey,” Juno says. 

Sasha sits primly in her single chair, which she’s dragged over by the porthole to watch the vast expanse of nothing. 

Juno sets down the tray on the table like her silence is to be expected. Maybe, she supposes, thinking of all the years that have passed between them without a single civil conversation, it is. 

When she makes no attempt to move, he leans against the table and filches a bite from her plate, waving the fork at her before popping it into his mouth. “Lunch?” 

Sasha sighs, long-suffering—Juno grins like it’s something familiar—and complies, bringing her chair closer to eat. She snatches back her fork and twirls it between her fingers. “You may as well ask your questions now, Juno,” she says.

The grin falls off Juno’s face. “That’s not—I told you, this isn’t an interrogation, Sasha.”

Sasha’s certain his family wouldn’t agree—surely the amount of information Sasha knows, on Dark Matters’ inner workings, the Radicals, the Aurinkos themselves, hasn’t slipped any of their minds—but she’ll allow Juno his fantasies. Or lies. “Just another hour in prolonged captivity, then.”

“It isn’t—” Juno releases a heavy breath. Sasha raises an eyebrow. “Fine. Sure, that’s exactly what it is. Eat up.”

So she eats. It’s Juno’s cooking, like always—real food, not cheap nutrient bars or protein paste. Sasha wonders if the meals are just part of his job, if he volunteered, if he’s cooking for the whole crew or just her. 

The first few times, Juno had tried to strike up a conversation, but now he just walks to the porthole and takes in the tiny view, waiting for her to finish. It’s fine, Sasha thinks. The silence isn’t uncomfortable.

Then, tentatively, Juno says, “We could let you free on the ship, Sasha. We could— talk. If—” He gets that look on his face when he’s about to tell her something she doesn’t want to hear— “You give us your word that you won’t try and escape. And that you won’t try to contact Dark Matters and turn us in.”

Sasha levels a look at him. This is an ultimatum he’s made every other conversation, and she still doesn’t believe it. “Surely you’re not really asking me that, Juno.”

Juno throws up his hands, walking away. “Worth a shot,” he says bitterly. 

“So that’s it,” Sasha says, like they haven’t had this roundabout conversation about ten times now. “I’m being blackmailed. My silence and obedience for my freedom.” 

“Sasha… don’t.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re here,” Juno tries, “because you’re safer here than—”

Sasha gives in to the disbelieving laugh bubbling in her throat. “Frankly, Juno, I’ve had enough of this—even I never tried to pretend I captured you to keep you safe.”

“Nah, actually, I���m pretty sure there was a bit of a ‘this is for your own good’ sentiment thrown in there—”

The chair scrapes loudly against the floor when she pushes it back to look him full in the face. “Oh, and isn’t that exactly what you’re doing? I’m a prisoner on your ship because I’m safer here? Really, Juno?”

Her voice rises without her permission. She doesn’t know why she’s so adamant on turning this into a fight. She’s playing right into Juno’s hand, she knows, biting at everything like some cornered animal, but she can’t help it. For the first time in years, in decades, she’s completely unarmed—in both physical weapon and intel— and it’s a weakness that’s like an itch, an ever-present lack, and something has to give, somewhere. 

“Sasha, I’m trying to—”

“And don’t pretend that you’re simply, what, doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Like you don’t hold a grudge against me for hurting you, your family? That’s not like you, Juno.”

She’s hit a nerve. Hurt flashes across Juno’s face. “Fuck’s sake, Sasha, what do you want me to—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, muscles tense in his jaw. “Y’know what? Yeah. Yeah, I am mad. I’m fucking livid, okay, Wire, you tried to kill my family and I—”

The venom in his voice stings more than she expected. This part of the conversation, they haven’t had yet. “I never tried any such—”

“Cut the crap, Sasha,” Juno snarls. “You were never going to let them go, alright, I know. You weren’t going to trust whatever they said, you knew they weren’t going to say anything, you were never going to help me help them or whatever, you were just— messing with me—”

“I was giving you an out.”

“You lied to me.” It’s a child’s naive insistence, the way Juno looks at her, all heartbroken and disappointed: but you promised, Sasha. “What would’ve been the best-case scenario for you, huh?” he presses. “Me behind bars for life, or maybe a new name and a lifetime supply of Dark Matters surveillance— if I’d talked. And, what? The rest of my family tortured for months on end until your interrogators got bored and disappeared them quietly? That’s it, right? That was your plan, and you actually tried to get me to play along.” 

“Juno…”

Juno shakes his head, swallows. “Fuck you, Wire. Sure, maybe I did trick you too, and maybe we are keeping you on this ship. But you have no idea how much that hurt.”

And it’s all Sasha can do to keep her expression clear, because the disgust in his eye is worse than betrayal; because he’s right to be disgusted, she’s been thinking lately, like a sandstorm settling to reveal a cliff’s edge, and she isn’t sure anymore of the path she’d been so set on walking. 

Because here’s what she’d been so afraid of, Juno Steel with enough fury for a bottomless pit, and she has no one to blame but herself. 

In the ensuing quiet, Ilkay’s voice crackles in Juno’s earpiece, and Juno turns away from her to reply. “Yeah, we’re—it’s fine,” he says. At his side, his hand flexes, a clench and release of tension. “We’re just. Talking. Vespa, I swear everything’s... fine.”

Ilkay relents, and then the silence is truly suffocating. Juno crosses his arms and exhales, every line of his back tense and unmoving. 

You lied to me.  

“In that case,” Sasha says, voice too wobbly to put up any facade of coldness, “you never answered my question. What am I doing here, Juno?”

Juno whirls around, looking somehow twice as furious.

“Because you won’t listen to anything I’m trying to tell you—”

Sasha could laugh. “I meant why bring me along in the first place? You had your chance to escape; we wouldn’t have been able to track you. So why hold me here like a—”

Juno stills. “And what would have happened to you?” he asks. “If I’d left you behind, with Dark Matters?”

Sasha bristles. “I’m their Director—”  

“Yeah, and you told me yourself you ‘took care’ of your own Director when you had the chance! Hell, all I did was let it slip that I knew you and you thought you had to shoot me. And then, what, a whole crew of dangerous suspects escape with the Curemother Prime, under your nose—you think they’d just let that slide?” 

“I can handle myself,” Sasha snaps right back, and oh, this is an odd reversal of roles, isn’t it. But what can she say, she’s been with this new, strange crew for over a day now, and her patience is fraying; maybe she really is out of practice— “My agents are loyal to me, and even if they weren’t, if you think this is the first time I’ve handled a bunch of unruly—”

“Oh, sure, but is this also not the first time you’ve messed up on a mission this big? ‘Cause I think I know what’s gonna happen if you try and contact Dark Matters again, and I think—”

“I don’t need your misguided attempts to help, Juno,” Sasha says tightly. Her hands are shaking. She clasps them together. 

“—it’s over, Wire,” Juno says. “You can’t go back. And you know it. You know, and I’m sorry. But you’re done.” 

It’s Sasha’s turn to look away in stony silence, because he’s right. 

Goddamn him, he’s right. 

“Sasha,” Juno says again, and at this point Sasha misses the quiet, misses not needing to feel as much as Juno Steel forces her to, every fucking time— “Y’know. Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit about you anymore.” 

She glances up at him again. He looks pained and earnest in equal measure. 

“Oh,” Sasha says, voice small. 

Juno sits down on her bed like holding himself up is suddenly too much of a chore. “You taught me that, I think.”

“Did I.” 

He’s quiet for a long moment, picking at a hangnail, and Sasha almost thinks he’s not going to answer. Then: “Sure. Over and over. When Ben died, and we weren’t talking at the time, and I was determined to ruin myself. When we—”

“Juno—”

“When we finally got in the HCPD,” Juno presses on, “and you were doing great but I wasn’t handling it so well. Even on your stupid Dark Matters exam—”

She shuts her eyes. “Don’t.”

“—No, even way earlier than that, when I was so, so ready to blame myself I never gave you any room to grieve. I’m pretty sure you hated me at some point.”

“I never—I didn’t hate you,” she whispers. “I just. Hated what you were doing to yourself.”

“Oh. Well.” Juno tilts his head, sends her a look. “I think I know what that’s like.”

It’s more than she can take, his knowing, understanding pity. Sasha turns her back to him, facing the table so he can’t see her face. It’s over. You’re done. Her chest heaves. For the first time in years she feels adrift, with nothing to keep her anchored anymore, not a goal or a purpose or a job or a home. 

Her entire fucking career, she thinks. Over twenty years of work. 

She can’t think about it. Not here. The calculations spin away from her, wide and impossible and terrifying. I don’t know who I am, without this. If not this. I don’t know what else is left of me.

What does it say about her, that she can’t tell what’s right or wrong anymore without someone telling her who to shoot. That she doesn’t know when she stopped thinking about what she was doing anymore and just started following orders, a set of rules and expectations and protocols laid out in her head, everything else locked away and marked irrelevant.

There’s an ugly, churning feeling in her gut. She wonders if Annie would hate her.

“Sasha?”

She blinks the wetness in her eyes back. Dimly, she realizes Juno’s said her name more than once now. When she looks behind her, Juno is watching her back, his gaze so open and comfortable it makes her uncomfortable. 

“Are you, uh…”

Changed or not, Juno Steel is not the sort of person who would jump to console someone he hasn’t spoken kindly with in years. “I’m fine,” she says, firm enough that Juno just nods, and waits.

She sighs. Then she gets up and sits beside him on the bed, their shoulders not quite touching. Juno scoots back and lies down, legs dangling over the edge. After a moment, she does the same. 

“I miss Mick,” he says. 

“Oh.” It’s not something the Juno she knew would readily admit. “Me too.” Even this is something still painfully familiar: her and Juno and Ben and Mick, sprawled out on one bed until afternoon turned to night, whenever one of them couldn’t bear to go home.

“Last time we talked in person, he… he was dealing with some shit, you know, and— I didn’t… realize. Rita helps me get a message through every few days, but. I don’t know, it still feels like I’m not there for him enough.”

“I… I haven’t talked to him since, well…”

“Since your promotion,” he sighs. “Yeah.”

“How is he?”

He shrugs. “Alright, last I heard. Apparently he’s working on some manuscript. No idea how that’s turning out.”

She pushes herself up on her elbows and stares at him over her shoulder. “Mick Mercury,” she says flatly. “A writer.”

His leg knocks into hers in a gentle rebuke, ankles bumping. “Uh, yeah, Mick Mercury. Try anything once, Mick Mercury? Wild storyteller, Mick Mercury? Y’know—”

“Unstoppable dreamer, Mick Mercury,” she murmurs. “Right.” She flops back down on the bed. 

There’s a grin in his voice. “Yep. Hey, least one of us isn’t a wanted criminal.”

She thumps her fist against his chest. Juno laughs.

“Too soon?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Juno says lightly, “I know what you’re going through.”

Sasha snorts despite herself. Then the joke catches up with her, and she sobers. “Juno…” Her breath shakes in her chest. “What do I do.”

Juno’s silent for a long time.

“I can’t answer that for you, Wire.”

She closes her eyes. She can’t answer it, either; she doesn’t know. She thinks about Curemother Prime sitting somewhere aboard this ship, and about the Aurinkos’ ridiculous, unbelievable plan, and the possibility of success. They’ve already gotten this far. 

It seemed—simple, back in that rigid and lonely place, a clear line of thought: Juno and the others made themselves too dangerous to ignore; thus they needed to be dealt with; thus Dark Matters would deal with them. She was Director, the mission was important, and Juno was her family; thus she would deal with it herself. 

No time for what-ifs, or second guesses, or considering the idea of being wrong. Just this: Dark Matters worked for the greater good; thus Sasha Wire would work for Dark Matters. She’d climb the endless ladder and clean out the dirt of the place and learn to live with bloody hands if she had to. For the greater good, for the greater good, an idea she has wrapped her fucking life around, even when it wasn't making sense anymore.

Now, through the fog of terror comes that same cold, icy logic, bringing a different conclusion: Dark Matters will never leave her alone. 

She knew this when she agreed to work for them. They already think she’s a traitor after her last failure, and whether she tries to get in contact with them again or not won’t matter. She might be lucky if they assume she’s dead, killed by the infamous Aurinko family, though they won’t easily do that without proof.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.  

She thinks about that, and then she thinks about the only path that has remained open to her, steady and unshakable, in the form of Juno Steel.

This is how logic works, this is what Dark Matters taught her: Remove the options you cannot perform, and what remains is your way forward.

Juno startles when she sits up quickly. “Wire?”

She runs a hand through her hair a few times. “Open the door.”

“What?”

“Open the door,” she repeats impatiently, trying to straighten the wrinkles in her shirt.

Juno eyes her warily as he gets to his feet. “Um, why would I do that?”

She catches her reflection in the glass of the porthole. She looks sharp enough for a captive former Dark Matters agent, she supposes; serious; put together; starlit. When she meets Juno’s eyes, he looks, hopelessly, hopeful.

“Well?” Sasha says, tone brusque. “I’ll behave. I thought you wanted me to talk to Aurinko.” 

[having-a-hyperfixate]

The Final Day’‘

This is absolutely going to be long and rambley af so I’mma just put a cut here. This is just one massive post for the entire rest of the game.

Rindo is back in the RG somehow. Which makes less than no sense. What was that crazy beam. Shibuya is GONE there isn’t an RG to send him back to, even if someone did want to send him back?

That beam reminded me of the Jesus beams not gonna lie.

But… Fret. Presumably Nagi and Beat too. They’re. Gone. Poor Rindo… That’s the worst kind of gaslighting. Reality itself is gaslighting this poor kid. ‘Your best friend in the world is gone, so gone that no one remembers him. You don’t even get to mourn properly because there is no one TO mourn.’  I am also not okay.

I assume this random talking to us at Hachiko is the dude I saw a brief glimpse of in a screenshot from the final trailer. Hazuki Mikagi, okay. Everything about this is supremely weird. 

Leading this weirdo around and he asked how we feel about emotions? Um, what?

Was he responsible for that beam of light?

This whole thing is extremely unsettling, I don’t think I like it. The music is all… serene, this guy keeps asking existential questions, who even comes up to some kid clearly having a bad day and demands a tour of the city.

He knows Rindo’s name even though we never told him. Not sure if that was a slip or an intentional nudge that Something is going on but there we go.

‘I should take this chance to apologize for Kubo. He’s a real piece of work.’ WHAT. YOU SEND HIM TO SHINJUKU?!?! IS THIS KID GOD!? WHAT!??!

‘Exorcised’. Like a demon. Which is a psychic rank you can get in the first game, and probably this game, ergo, a thing that exists in this universe.

Okay. So this Hazuki guy is Something Else. I dunno if he’s an Angel or higher or WHAT. He’s something. And he “exorcised” what Fuckwad had Fallen to when he decided not to stop at Shinjuku and continue on to Shibuya. But he only did this after Rindo faught so hard to stop it. And then he gave Rindo what he thought Rindo wanted. And now he’s here trying to understand why Rindo is miserable. Which to us, as humans, is obvious: the people he loved, the connections and family he had made through the game are all gone and worse, no one remembers they ever existed.

And now he’s being offered the chance to try again. This feels like a double edged sword. And I don’t care.

Okay I actually kind of appreciate the thing Hazuki is pulling here. He knows what it is that Rindo wants, I’m pretty sure he’s listening to his thoughts, actually, and in order to make Rindo own up to it he’s arguing the ‘no’ position. Giving Rindo someone to argue against so he can convince himself.

WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN AT UDAGAWA.

Bruh some of these clips were in the announcement trailer.

(I can’t wait to read the secret reports. That’s gonna be a wild ride.)

Oooooh that’s what ‘exorcised’ means. That is hardcore. He definitely deserved it but that is uh. Slightly inconvenient.

Can we actually contact Rhyme this time PLEASE. Oooh Rindo worked out Kaie is waiting for Rhyme. :O I’M FINALLY GONNA GET MY MASSIVE COUNTER OFFENSIVE FUCK YES. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I’M PUMPED LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!!

Who’s gonna protect them. Beat. Really. Just give them the damn pins at this point. They both know their ways around a fight and Kaie might need the backup. If we lose, we’re all toast regardless, and if we win everyone gets put back where they belong.

AAAAAAAAAAAH SHE’S HERE!!! RHYME!!!! Aw… She can’t see Neku and Shoka cuz they’re actually dead. That’s really depressing. Makes sense but like. Oof. Especially for Neku.

I love that Rhyme still has a saying for everything.

This timeline is going to be a mess by the time I get everything positioned correctly lmao

Beat’s ‘How do you know about my sister?! Right, future.’ is never going to NOT be funny. It’s very refreshing to have a time travel plot where people just listen when he tells them shit needs to happen.

Is it acutaly Shiki time ohh my god. I might cry. Please tell me she has a face now. If her face is still illegal I will actually scream.

I’m offended. We didn’t get to go see Shiki. The betrayal. OH but now we might be? Stop playing with me, game. GIVE. ME. SHIKI.

Rindo was freaking out that we weren’t gonna be able to get rid of all the Noise around the café and I definitely threw my hands up and yelled when I saw the word ‘zeptogram’. And I read it before he said it, cuz I read v. fast. Nice to see you again, idiot. Please don’t go berserk again.

I am. Very impressed that Minamimoto managed to work out where the Dissonance Noise are coming from, down to the exact energy source that creates them. He nailed it. Well done sir.

I think… he’s proposing we awaken the city and use the energy generated by the thoughts and emotions of the living people to neutralize some of the Dissonance Noise that are waiting in the pin. Erode some of its power.

“How about this: I’ll talk, you type.” Lmao.

I got denied Shiki again. Part of me is annoyed. The other part of me is like ‘are they saving her entrance for when she can see Neku again properly because I can live with that’.

OH the Hishima cutscene is voiced now OKAY. Guess that means this is the one. Rhyme is voiced too. This is gonna be it.

And she speaks Minamioto. Coo.

Huh. Neku’s power is to sync with people. Which he learned to do in the first game. From Mr H, with the harmonizer pin. (Twister is playing and I have Emotions help) And now he’s gonna do it on an absolutely MASSIVE scale. This is insane. I am 1,000% here for it. Sync, Dive, Remind. And if I had to guess, we’re doing this atop 104.

Alright Shiba. ‘Mere. Tsugumi’s eyes aren’t all freaky anymore yay. Oh snap. He’s gonna unleash the Plague Noise against the Dissonance ones. Nice. Turnabout is fair play. I’m kinda sad Fuckwad isn’t here to witness that.

Alright. Change. Our. Fate.

SHIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gave myself a headache ow.

“07734.” “Ew. Hey! Don’t just spout off numbers and walk away, you jerk!” That was amazing.

FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. NO. NO WAY. I DIDN’T THINK THERE WAS ANY WAY. OH. MY. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. This is the first time Neku’s seen him since Joshua failed to stop Coco from killing him. I’m. A puddle. Help. Neku looked so happy. My cat is slightly concerned haha.

Neku still holds his hands like he’s got the headphones. The same pose as in the first game when you scan. This gives me all the feels.

“They’re just mindless thoughts” Okay so I’m mentally exhausted at this point and I processed that as ‘thots’ and it was hilarious. BEGONE THOTS.

Okay this thing right here? This is a final boss. And it is cool as fuck. Too bad it’s trying to END ME. So cool. SO. COOL. Here comes phase 2 lol. I died and had to redo it. FML.

That. Was awesome. A worthy successor to the epic final strike of the first game. 999% eh?

I continue to not like Shinjuku rules. Once you’re a Reaper, leaving means you get erased once the game ends? Disrespectfully, fuck that. Oh don’t you dare, Shoka. Don’t. You. Dare.

Oh, Joshua is here. PLEASE. Lmao Shoka’s reaction. I’m sure he appreciates that, the drama queen.

*facepalms* Joshua strikes again. I’ve missed you, you little shit. You are terrible, but I missed you. Rindo, I’m pretty sure she’s fine. I think captain helpful over here reincarnated her for you. Since you saved him and his city. I guess I’ll see though.

Uzuki and Kariya continue to be adorable. I love them. And yeah, good luck calling in that debt from Minamimoto, Coco. Gooooood luck.

I’m having a lot of Joshua centered emotions right now there is too much Joshua all at once help. “I should have known I could trust you.” You are killing me dude. You really, really should have. I’m going to turn that line over in my head for way too long, I just know it, but let’s try to get through this before my brain turns off completely. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” OKAY THANKS I’M GONNA CRY AGAIN.

What Hazuki was saying about ‘purifying’ as opposed to ‘destroying’ Shinjuku makes me think that restarting it in some form was always part of the plan, so hopefully they’ll have luck with that. It’s still profoundly fucked up that any of that happened, and even more so that it was sanctioned. I’m. Going to be hung up on that for a while once it sinks in.

This poor idiot hitting on Rhyme is about to get got oh no XD

Shiki is breaking my heart. Aaaaaaaah!!! Reunioooooon.

Ooof it’s been a month since Rindo saw Shoka. Big oof. Joshuaaaaaa.

And then they almost got hit by a car lmao. OMG HE MISSED HER FRIEND REQUESTS AHAHAHAHAH YOU GOOBER. Neku really should have warned them that Joshua is Like That lol. Even when he’s being helpful it’s in the must backhanded way possible.

I would very much like to know why on earth Shinjuku needed to be obliterated though. Like. Does that… Happen often? Maybe the secret reports say.

Speaking of, time to get those, along with the rest of the trophies.

!!!! The title screen updated, NICE. Can’t let anyone who hasn’t beaten it see that but NICE.

There’s another Another Day. Oh boy. I am not ready for that madness yet.

Random thought as I was moving this from word, where I typed it: I’m really, really fucking glad they didn’t decide to deal with Mr H the way they dealt with sleezy mcfuckwad. That would have been… I don’t have a word.

[gumnut-logic]

Who do you save, John? (Bit 10c + The End)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5a | Bit 5b | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Bit 8 | Bit 9 | Bit 10a | Bit 10b  | Bit 10c

Always end up rushed. Didn’t have a chance to edit the end so I’m likely to be swearing at it later. Sorry for the delay, muse crashed and burned on Friday. here’s hoping I’ve resuscitated it. 17,000 words. So much for the under 10K I estimated. Typical.

For @5hadow-alpha​​​  cos they wanted Shopping and a Tracy brother. They got more than one, and I got more than I expected.

-o-o-o-

The next time Alan woke, the room was full of golden family.

The sun was setting through the window, lighting up the room in shades of gold. His brothers were lit up as they clustered around Virgil’s bed.

They didn’t notice Alan, and it gave him the opportunity to both wake up fully and observe his family undetected.

He was feeling much better. His head was a lot clearer and he was calmer.

The reason why no one noticed his wakefulness was because Virgil was already awake.

His brother was smiling and poking fun at a sunlit Gordon near the end of his bed. Gordon appeared to be enjoying it. When the attention drifted away from him and whether or not he was allowed to film Virgil on drugs, the expression on his fish brother’s face was one of fondness and hope. His eyes barely left the prone man.

That fact could have been annoying from a little brother’s perspective, but Alan found himself doing the same thing.

Virgil, who had literally died in his arms, was supported by his bed, sitting up at an angle and talking quite animatedly. There was a healthy flush to his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

John was standing calmly on the other side of the bed, the setting sun catching his hair from behind as it darted through the hospital window.

John had a habit of striking such a pose. It was unclear if he did it on purpose or was completely unaware of his surroundings in those moments.

Virgil had photographed him on multiple occasions for that exact reason, much to the astronaut’s annoyance.

Grandma stood beside him; her arms wrapped around his. That was an unusual sight. But then they had almost lost a brother and the threat had been to John.

That thought led into unpleasant directions so he brought it to a halt.

He could only see Scott’s back, but his brother was gesticulating, making a point about digging up Gordon’s baby videos and broadcasting them to the world if he didn’t behave.

As if Scott would ever do something like that.

Though, come to think of it, the threat at least wasn’t a bad idea. Alan had much less a solid reputation than Scott and could probably carry the threat enough to get some good ones out of his brother.

“How did you know it was a fake detonator?” John’s voice cut across the conversation, his expression puzzled. The question came out of the blue, ever a sign that John’s mind worked on more than one track at a time.

Virgil blinked up at him. “I…I didn’t at first. It was a good replica of a T-325. But I noticed he was holding his hand strangely. The T-325 has a trigger rest here.” His brother held up a hand as if to sketch out the design in the air, only wince and withdraw the gesture.

Grandma frowned at him from the other side of the bed.

“Long story short…if you waved a T-325 around as much as he did, with that grip, chances are we would have blown up long before he had started his second rant. That one is a touchy model.” Virgil shifted awkwardly and Scott laid a hand on his arm.

“Well, I’m glad we had our expert on hand.”

Scott’s smile was reflected in Virgil’s eyes.

“Oh, ho, ho, look who’s awake!”

Trust Gordon to dob him in.

Suddenly all the eyes in the room were on Alan. His father and eldest brother spun, both faces lighting up when they realised Alan was awake.

Alan couldn’t help but grin back. “Hey.” His voice caught and he coughed.

Talk about ruining a moment. Scott was on him immediately, his dad not far behind.

“How are you feeling, Alan?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m good.” He reached out his uninjured arm and nudged his worried brother aside gently. “Virgil?”

Soft brown eyes caught his and his big brother smiled. “Hey, Allie.”

A hand landed on Alan’s leg and he looked up to find a pair of grey eyes peering down at him. Alan frowned. “Dad, you should sit down.”

“I’m fine, Allie. Are you comfortable?”

An arched eyebrow. “I’m good, honest.” And he was. There was definitely still something in his system. It was keeping him quite happy. Too much movement probably wasn’t on the cards yet, but to be honest, the sight of Virgil smiling at him was enough endorphins to keep him going for weeks.

He turned back to Virgil and soaked it in.

The smile turned to a grin and Alan flushed in embarrassment.

But those brown eyes were reassurance itself.

“Hmm, did you two want to be alone?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was sharp, but no less reassuring that Virgil could spin the familiar phrase off so easily.

Alan laughed. “Good to see you, Virg.”

Again with the smile. “Likewise.” Those eyes turned inwards for a second before fixating on him. “And thank you.”

The line ‘just doing my job’ climbed onto his lips, but he vetoed it. “Always, bro.”

The room was embarrassingly silent after that and the moment broke.

“Dad, I would rather you sat down.” Virgil was definitely feeling better.

“I can look after myself, son.” It was firm and a touch threatening if Virgil chose to push the point.

But his father took a seat.

Alan shifted position and his arm twinged. He must have shown it on his face, because Scott reached out and touched his shoulder. He looked up to find worried blue eyes staring down at him.

Apparently, he needed to repeat himself. “I’m okay, Scott.”

His brother grunted before letting go, grabbing his plastic chair and dumping himself in it.

The room fell silent.

Turquoise hit him from across the room as the sun dipped behind a cloud and the room chilled.

“So, who was that guy?” Anything to get the conversation moving.

For a second, he regretted the topic as Scott’s lips thinned, but he had to know and clearing the air wouldn’t hurt, would it?

It was John who answered, though. “Timothy was a rescue we were unable to attend. Eos pulled the records and what he said was true. He lost his family. Any other day and we would have been there, but the Tsunami Disaster had all our attention.” A pause. “I am sorry.”

Scott started at that. “Hey, it was not your fault.”

A copper eyebrow arched. “Really? Do you want me to list exactly where our forces were deployed at that moment? It was Day Three. Scott was en route to Tracy Island for refueling, Virgil, you were asleep. Gordon had dragged you to the bunk on Two. He had threatened to tie you down. You were all down for the count. His call was one of twenty-three we couldn’t respond to on that particular day.”

“Johnny-“ Gordon held out a hand.

It was almost snapped off. “Don’t call me Johnny.”

“John.” Their father’s voice managed to be both warning and worried at the same time.”

His astronaut brother didn’t back down. “This isn’t out of the ordinary. It happens every day. It is happening now. People are dying because we are not there.”

“We can’t save everyone.” His father’s voice was firm.

“I know that, Dad.” John’s expression was exasperation itself. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

Silence fell again and all Alan could think of was how this whole thing had been aimed at John and how it had obviously reached its target despite Timothy not succeeding in his plan.

Something was burning in his brother. He could see it from here. John was tense and agitated.

It was likely the drugs, but Alan just wanted to climb out of bed and hug him.

“Well now, I think, you could all do with something to eat.” Grandma squeezed John’s arm and he looked down at her as if snapped from a dream. “Don’t look at me like that, young man. I know you haven’t been eating.”

“What?” Scott sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing in on his brother. “John?”

The astronaut rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” And Grandma was nudging him towards the door.

His father stood up and followed.

Scott eyed Alan a moment, but stayed seated.

As their grandmother and father herded John out the door, Gordon took the opportunity to steal the chair beside Scott.

“Is John okay?” The words fell from Alan’s mouth before he could think twice.

Scott sighed. “He will be.” There was a silent ‘I hope’ after that.

“Eh, he’s just pissed Eos got found out.”

Alan blinked. “What?”

“Gordon!”

“Just trying to lighten the atmosphere. Cool it, bro.”

Alan frowned. “What?”

“Eos electrocuted a guard with his own comms circuit.” Gordon was smirking.

“What? How?”

“Upped the signal power enough to arc through his baldric.”

Alan stared at his brother. “She hurt him?” He turned to Scott. “She can do that?” To us?

“Don’t worry, it is not happening again.”

“He deserved it.” Gordon snarled the words. “Betraying us for money. He’s lucky it was Eos and not Kayo.”

Scott tilted his head. “Kayo hasn’t finished with him yet.”

Alan’s eyes were bugging out. “Who? And why?”

Scott sighed just a little. “The guard outside the dressing room was an accomplice.”

“One of our own?”

“Yes.” That single word said so much. Kayo wasn’t the only person angry at such a betrayal. No doubt whoever it was would have to face the Commander at some point.

Alan had faced an angry Scott before. Not an experience for the faint hearted.

“And Eos was able to electrocute him with his comms?”

“Brains is working on it as we speak. It won’t happen again.”

Scott would never be entirely comfortable with Eos. Alan had to admit he had a few issues of his own having had to scoop up his astronaut brother as he lay dying in space, because of her.

A hand landed on his. “It won’t happen again.”

Alan swallowed. “Good.”

“Well, we’re lucky it happened this once. John found traces of an alien computer program in the z band network. Brains is having conniptions. This one security breach could have destroyed everything.”

“But it didn’t.” Virgil’s voice was quiet, but strong enough to stop the conversation. “We’re all safe. It’s over.” Brown eyes flickered in his direction.

The same brown eyes that had closed on Alan as his brother died in his arms.

Anger flared up. “So, this security breach let Timothy do what he wanted and Virgil died because of it.” Three pairs of eyes widened at Alan’s sharp tone. “How did this happen? How did he get past all our security checks? Kayo is pedantic to the point that I sometime wonder if I’ll be allowed access to anything. How did we not know?”

“Allie, it’s okay.” Again, Virgil’s voice was soft. “We’ll fix it.”

“You died, Virgil!”

“No, I didn’t.” Those eyes blinked slowly.

“You did!”

“Alan!”

And he found himself breathing fast and hard. Scott was holding him down. Gordon had a hand on his leg.

“Calm down, Allie.” Intense blue eyes caught his. “Virgil is safe. You are safe. We will fix this.”

Alan stared up at his big brother, soaking in the reassurance Scott was broadcasting. A deeper breath and he willed his heart rate to slow. He swallowed and managed the briefest of nods.

“The guy had money and resources. Kayo will, no doubt, rake our entire security force over hot coals. We will learn from this experience and it will not happen again.”

“It should not have happened in the first place.” Alan found his voice cold and as Scott flinched, he knew it had hit home.

“Allie…” Virgil looked half asleep and Alan realised that he probably was. “We’ll fix this.”

Alan pressed his lips together and glanced between all three of his brothers before once again fixating on Scott.

“We better.”

-o-o-o-

Jeff dragged John out of the hospital room with the full intention of cornering him. The fact his mother came with them was only an inconvenience.

“Mom, could you run ahead and dig up some menus from the cafeteria and perhaps let the nurses station know that the boys are awake?”

His mother eyed him and arched a silver eyebrow. “Certainly.” A flick of that gaze at his son before she turned and walked off.

No doubt he would be paying for that one later.

But first he wanted to speak to John.

“Walk with me?”

The astronaut frowned at him, but nodded once.

Jeff cursed being so slow, but he led his son down to the hospital garden. Security made itself known as Iz appeared from nowhere and he caught a glimpse of Leone not far off. Kayo was laying it on thick, but he couldn’t blame her.

The garden was a small one and this late in the day, quite dark and empty. Most patients had been hustled off to bed and their visitors went with them.

If Iz was seen to lock the door behind them and secure the green patch for them alone, Jeff wasn’t going to argue, just this once.

He found a bench under a large shrub that gave them some privacy and ushered John to sit down beside him as he lowered himself on to the seat.

“Dad, I’m okay.”

“That seems to be a theme in this family even when it is a blatant lie.”

That shut his boy up for a moment.

Jeff sighed. “John, when I sent you up there, I knew it was going to be hard. I am sorry.”

“No, Dad. I knew what I was getting into. This is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? Aren’t I hailed the creator of International Rescue?” He tried hard to catch those turquoise eyes, but John refused to look at him.“Pfft. The media. What do they know?”

That got a reaction. Copper eyebrows arched and his son looked up. Jeff took every advantage.

“I may have taken the first steps, but it is you boys who have kept it all going. Lived it. You’ve lived it for ten years. That is four times as long as I have and, trust me, I have guilt for those numbers.”

“Dad-“

He held up a hand. “No. This is where you listen, John.”

Something flashed in those eyes and Jeff’s lips twisted in response. “I set you boys on this path and you have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. You have made both your mother and I ever so proud.”

John just stared at him, eyes a little wide.

“But there has been a cost. You carry scars that have me questioning every decision I ever made.” He swallowed, all of it suddenly threatening to overwhelm. He shifted in his seat. “John, I know you sit up there day in and day out with lives in your hands. I can see that every life lost has as much effect on you as it does your brothers and often even more so because you see more of them.”

Jeff paused and tilted his head. “What’s the average number?”

John blinked. “Excuse me?”

“How many lives are lost per day because we can’t respond?”

There was a flicker of the professional emergency responder and his son’s face fell calm. “Ten to fifteen. It varies. The number includes rescues that fail due to local authorities incapability, situations that become more severe than predicted on initial assessment and situations we can not attend simply because we do not have the resources.”

“And what do you tell these callers?”

“What I can.” John’s voice grew quiet. “We do our best, Dad.”

Little more than breath. “Exactly.” He held his son’s eyes and couldn’t help but see the young man he had once been during that cyclone all those years ago. That same youth and concern. That care for those he couldn’t help.

“What’s the average daily rescue count?”

John blinked. “Uh, it varies between ten and several hundred.”

It was Jeff’s turn to blink. “That many?”

John shrugged. “Well, the statistics were blown during the asteroid crisis with Fischler and the aurora generator was full of hypotheticals.” His son was frowning, his hands expressive.

Jeff grabbed them.

“If you had a choice, all over again, as to whether you would take this path or another, what would you choose?”

The frown he received was castigating. “Dad, that’s asking the ridiculous.”

“No, who do you save, John? Them or yourself.”

“That’s a stupid question. Of course, I, we, choose to save everyone we can. We do it every day, Dad.” His son looked offended.

“Even despite the cost?”

“Of course.” The offense turned to an expression questioning Jeff’s sanity.

“Why?”

“Because it is worth it, Dad. When someone calls for help, they have to know there is someone out there who will answer. That’s what I do, Dad. I’m The Voice Who Answers.”

Jeff couldn’t help but smile. His boys made him so proud. Worried, yes, but so, so proud. His own words from so many years ago, echoed back at him by the very son who enacted them on a daily basis. The son who sacrificed so much to be up there, apart from his family, apart from the world, just so he could do exactly that.

The Voice Who Answers didn’t even consider the question, a question.

Who do you save?

Everyone you can.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 13: The Oscars

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which they attend the Oscars and Y/N almost misses it.

Word count: 5k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Song in the kitchen scene: A Million Times - Alice Kristiansen ft. Julian Lamadrid 

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

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“And the Oscar goes toooooooo...HARRY STYLES!”

“Stop making fun of me!”

“I’m not!” Y/N plumped down on to the treehouse floor, sitting with her legs crossed as she shook Harry’s arm gently. “Come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I’m not being hard on myself. I’m being realistic,” he replied, toying with a yellow leaf he’d found on the floor just to avoid making eye contact as they spoke. Y/N didn’t get why he was embarrassed and so doubtful of himself. She had seen him on stage when he’d been Romeo last year. He was one of the best kid actors and no one could convince her otherwise.

“Your new drama teacher was a meanie,” she huffed, arms folded across her chest.

Harry finally cast her a glance as the corners of his mouth turned up. “You’re not being objective. Mrs Berry was.”

“You’re a kid! Kids are allowed to make mistakes. That’s the only way they can learn and improve. My writing sucks but you don’t see me giving up.”

“Has anyone ever told you your writing sucks?”

“Celine’s brother.”

“He’s an arsehole.”

“Harry!”

“Sorry,” Harry chuckled, lifting both hands. “He’s a bum.”

Y/N didn’t laugh when he did. If her mum and dad knew he cursed all the time, they wouldn’t let her hang out with him anymore. “Well,” she exhaled. “I feel sorry for your teacher. She probably has nothing better to do with her life than crushing kids’ dreams because her dreams had died with her talent when she became a teacher instead of an actress.”

“Are you sure you’re ten years old?” Harry smiled, giving her a look that could be interpreted as either amazed or amused or both.

She’d never told him, but he had one of the best smiles she’d ever seen, which was why she was sure he would become successful. Having a great smile was a great quality for every actor. At least that was what her best friend Celine had told her.

“Are you sure you’re older than me?” she rebutted.

He lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I’m gonna listen to you because you’re a know-it-all.”

She said nothing and launched herself to her feet, clearing her throat. He watched with a confused look on his face when she picked up his water bottle and held it with both hands like the way an actor would hold the Oscar statue.

“Harry is too shy to come on stage and accept this Academy Award,” she said, “so I’m gonna accept it on his behalf. He’d like to thank his family, his drama teacher Mrs Berry, and his biggest fan Y/N aka Bambi. These are the people who helped shape his career.” Harry doubled over laughing as she lifted the water bottle above her head. “Thank you so much for this award. Have a good night, Los Angeles!”

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Y/N contemplated her reflection in the full-length mirror while Harry was watching her from the couch on the side. She cast him a sideways glance, to which he responded with a thumbs-up and a grin.

She sucked in a breath, looking back at herself. She looked different. She felt different. She had worn plenty of expensive gowns that didn’t belong to her and attended countless exclusive events with Harry before. But this. This was the Academy Awards. And she was wearing the kind of dress that was meant to turn heads on the red carpet, the kind of dress that models wore on the runway. She used to watch award shows with her best friends all the time, and could never imagine herself pulling off such elegant outfits. But now, she almost looked like she belonged at the Oscars.

She wasn’t wearing any make-up and her hair was in a simple low ponytail, so she knew the dress had done all the work to make her look desirable. Harry’s designer had taken the inspiration from the iconic silver dress in The Little Mermaid, when Ariel returned from the sea and reunited with Prince Eric. Harry had joked that Y/N resembled a fawn more than a princess, and she had smacked him hard on the arm, proving that she was neither.

“Is it too tight?” asked Meili – the designer. She was so kind that Y/N felt like they’d been friends forever. But on second thought, being a professional, it was Meili’s job to make her clients feel most comfortable in and out of her designs.

“No, this is perfect,” Y/N said.

“Are you sure?” She confirmed with a nod. “All right.” Meili patted her gently on the back. “How about we try walking?”

And so Y/N descended the steps and sauntered about the fitting area to make sure she was comfortable and able to breathe normally. Harry had risen from the sofa and come to stand beside Meili, his eyes dancing with amusement as he watched Y/N strike a silly pose.

“What do you think?” she asked him.

Instead of answering the question, he turned to Meili. “Can you show me how to take it off?”

Meili had quite a good laugh watching Harry with his hands up in defence as Y/N tried to hit him without hurting the dress. It was then that the sound of her ringtone from her bag came for his rescue.

He pecked her cheek and stayed to chat with Meili about his outfit while Y/N answered the call from her agent.

“Y/N!” Laura said before Y/N could speak. “What are you doing, babe?”

“I’m at the fitting for the Oscars.”

There was a pause followed by a dramatic sigh. “Oh, I nearly forgot that you’re attending the Oscars. Are you nervous?”

“Kind of.” Y/N giggled. “But I suppose you’re not calling me to ask what I’m doing, are you, Laura?”

“Of course not! I’d like to remind you that we’re having a party next Saturday!”

“Right, right, party–No!”

Both Harry and Meili whipped their heads back to gape at Y/N.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought it was a brilliant idea–”

Y/N shushed her boyfriend as she indicated the phone to let him know she wasn’t talking to him.

“Hi, Laura!” he shouted, and Laura, who obviously had heard it, squealed like a schoolgirl and demanded to be put on speaker.

Y/N tapped the speaker icon as she slumped into the couch where Harry soon joined her, sitting with an arm around her shoulders. “Hi, Laura,” he repeated.

Laura laughed excitedly. “Hi, Harry! We’ve never met before but I’ve heard so much about you!”

“And I’ve heard so much about you!”

“I’m your client, Laura. Not him,” Y/N snorted as Harry kissed her temple.

“Oh, yes, right.” Laura cleared her throat to compose herself. “So what’s the matter? I thought–”

“The Oscars is next Sunday night, Laura. I have to catch the plane on Saturday morning. I can’t go to your party.”

“Your party, Y/N.”

“What party?” Harry asked.

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but Laura was faster. “To celebrate your girl’s debut novel! It hasn’t come out yet, but everything is settled. It’s a tradition. I always throw this party for my client. Everyone at the agency will be there and there will be some guests from the publishing house and some published authors. It’ll be grand.”

Y/N sucked in a breath and pinched her temple, her eyes met Harry’s. His expression was unreadable. To Laura, she asked, “Can we push it back a few days?”

“Absolutely not! I’ve sent out the invitations. You told me any date this month would do!”

Y/N had. And she kind of regretted it now. She’d been chatting with Gemma when Laura asked her about the date. Gemma had been devastated by what had happened with Winton, so Y/N had been busy comforting her and told Laura to just pick any date she’d like. It was all her fault; she should have reminded Laura about the Oscars.

Y/N glanced back at Harry, hoping he didn’t think she’d purposely prioritized her success over his. Because why would she think her first novel was a better reason to celebrate than his first-ever Oscar nomination?

But Harry didn’t seem vexed. His dimples appeared as he traced his fingertips along the strap of her sparkling dress. “It’s okay, Laura,” he said to the phone. “You don’t have to change the date.”

Y/N’s eyes went round as Laura hissed, “Yes!”

“Baby–”

“You’ll go to your party,” he said, “and I’ll send my ride to pick you up and take you to the airport. They won’t leave without you, silly.”

Right. She’d be travelling on his private jet.

“But...I’ll be late.”

“So?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I can manage the first few hours without you. Why should your career be any less important than mine?”

“He’s right, Y/N,” Laura said.

Y/N swivelled in her seat to face him as she took his hand. “I’ll just come to say hello to the guests–”

“And give a speech!” Laura interjected, making Y/N roll her eyes and Harry chuckle.

“Fine, I’ll come to say hello and give a speech and then I’ll come to you.”

“Deal?” His lips twitched as he gave her his pinkie.

“Deal,” she said, hooking her pinkie with his.

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The party was insane.

Y/N had specifically asked Laura not to overdo this, but the agent had insisted on throwing her favourite client the most Gasby party she could pull off. Y/N didn’t even know half of the faces who’d shaken her hand and congratulated her on her debut novel which hadn’t been released yet. She felt like a fraud. What if these people ended up hating her book? What if this party made her seem like a show-off? She was already dating an Oscar nominee; she didn’t want to be branded as any more privileged than that.

She kept the speech she’d promised Laura as short and simple as possible, then returned polite smiles to the guests as she made her way to the back of the room. She wouldn’t be surprised if these folks thought that she had zero personality. When it came to self-branding, she needed all the help she could get. How did Harry do it? How did he charm people into liking him before they even viewed his work? As much as she loved him, she couldn’t help but envy him sometimes.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her dress before getting another glass of champagne and finishing it a second before Laura came up to check on her.

“You okay? You look a bit pale,” Laura said.

“Well, I tend to get anxious at formal events,” Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “I usually attend these kinds of parties with Harry. He’d do all the talking and help me get involved in the conversation. He’s very charismatic.”

“I’m charismatic!” Laura said with a hand on her chest. Y/N responded with a smile. Laura wascharismatic. The problem was, Y/N was more comfortable with Harry. Or maybe she couldn’t help but feel guilty that she’d miss the red carpet walk with him. She hated to be the one to break a promise.

“You need to stop checking your watch like modern Cinderella at the royal ball.”

Y/N dropped her arm back to her side. “I’m so nervous, Laura.”

“About this party? People love you!”

“About...everything.” This party. Her 2 AM flight. The Oscars. Showing up late. Missing Harry’s category. Her book release. The likelihood of having people roast her book unforgivingly on the internet.

She had the tendency of freaking out over insignificant matters whenever good things kept happening to her. Because, as usual, bad luck would come for her when she was most defenceless and took away her joy. This time, she could feel it in her stomach.

Laura gripped her shoulders and squeezed them tight. “You are my superstar, Y/N. You are the shit. You are the most brilliant–”

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” she laughed, pulling Laura into a hug. “Thank you for tonight. I owe you so much, Laura.”

“Don’t be stupid. You saved my life. Literally,” Laura smirked and gently patted Y/N’s cheek. “Now, let’s go say goodbye to the guests. It’s almost time for you to go.”

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. She’d been waiting for this moment since she’d arrived. People might wonder why she seemed more energetic saying goodbye to them than when she’d welcomed them to the party. But she was just happy that she could finally leave. The last thing she wanted was to show up late for her flight (Harry had said the plane wouldn’t leave without her but she hated delays anyway) and missed more of the Oscar ceremony tomorrow than she’d allowed herself to.

The journey to LA happened in a rush. She’d slept for most of her twelve-hour flight because she’d been so exhausted. Harry’s bodyguard only woke her up when they were about to land. The next thing she knew, she was taken to his LA house. She had never been there before. It was much bigger than the one in London, but less homely, perhaps because she’d known every corner of the place that was supposed to be theirs. This one just seemed like a resort.

The hair and makeup team and Harry’s stylist were waiting upstairs to make her Oscars-ready. She’d eaten quite a lot on the plane before it took off, so she feared she wouldn’t fit in the dress. Magically, she did. And she felt so silly for feeling like she might burst into tears.

When the makeup artist asked how she’d like to have her makeup done, she told them to make her recognizable. They didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, so she hoped they knew what she meant. She didn’t want to be the centre of attention tonight, especially when she was going to show up late. The only attention she craved for was Harry’s and she was going to get it anyway, with or without this glamorous costume.

Fortunately, the makeup artist did a fantastic job. They gave her simple eye makeup and red lips and put her hair up into a classic high bun. It wasn’t until tonight that she couldn’t stop staring at herself in the mirror. Harry would be so impressed.

As Harry’s team did some final touches on her face, one girl showed her some clips and pictures of Harry on the red carpet. He looked dashingly handsome and comfortable, and when being interviewed, he said he loved her and couldn’t wait to see her later. The part of her that had been feeling guilty could finally let go of that breath she’d been holding. She thanked the makeup team for everything and came downstairs when her car arrived.

The chauffeur was a middle-aged man with greyish hair and a kind face. He was talking on the phone and ended the call as soon as he saw her. He looked rather tired, but before she could ask for his name and if he was feeling well, she remembered that she’d left her clutch upstairs, and so she asked him to wait while she went back to get it. He told her to take her time.

When she came downstairs for the second time, the man was on the phone again. He didn’t see her return so he didn’t hang up. Y/N couldn’t help but overhear the last part of the conversation where he told whoever he was speaking to that he would be at the hospital as soon as he finished his job.

“Is everything okay, sir?” she asked once he’d finished the call. He whipped around, seemingly startled to see her there. “You can tell me if something is wrong. I might be able to help,” she said.

The chauffeur looked hesitant at first. He worked his jaw for a moment before he could tell her, “My daughter...is sick. She’s just been taken to the hospital. I’ll go see her as soon as I take you to–”

“No! You’re going to see her now!” cried Y/N.

He squinted his eyes at her as if he thought she was testing him. “Are you...are you sure, Miss? Mr Styles told me–”

“I’ll talk to Harry for you. Don’t worry.”

Telling someone not to worry never seemed to work. The man screwed up his face as he shoved a hand in his hair. “Should I send you another car, Miss? Mr Styles said...he said that you couldn’t drive.”

“Of course I can!” Y/N blurted, then realized how defensive she’d sounded.

She could drive. However, she was afraid to sit behind the wheel.

Ever since her accident, she’d been using public transport and let Harry drive her around instead of doing it herself. He knew it wasn’t just her anxiety of getting into another accident. Her mother had died in a car crash, and Harry had seen how scared she’d been when he’d crashed his motorcycle. Those final thirty seconds after the collision and before she’d gone unconscious, Y/N had felt it all at once. Her mother’s death, her almost losing Harry, her head cracking open and the numbness when she lay on broken glass and her vision faded to black. She could only hope she would get through her fear this time.

“I’ll take one of his cars,” she reassured the man. “Don’t worry about me, sir. Your daughter needs you.”

The man thanked Y/N repeatedly and hurried back to the car parked in the drive. Y/N waited until he was gone, checked the time to make sure she’d make it, then she sucked in a deep breath and headed to the garage.

.

.

.

Harry was a bundle of nerves trying to act composed while the other nominations were being presented. There were cameras everywhere and they could zoom into his face at any moment so he could not look like he might throw up. He was here for his Best Actor nomination; it’d be so embarrassing if he couldn’t act like he was having the best time of his life.

Y/N should have been here a long time ago. Where the fuck was she? She’d texted him that she’d drive here by herself. He didn’t want to be pessimistic, but the last time she’d sat behind the wheel, she’d ended up in the hospital.

It’d been half a year since, but he couldn’t forget that feeling when he got the call. He was praying to God that the next time his phone buzzed, it would be her telling him she’d arrived safely. If something unpleasant was going to happen (as it always did), he would accept anything as long as she was safe.

The moment his phone sounded, he jolted so hard he might have startled the lady sitting beside him. Jeff’s words swivelled in his head: Do not check your phone during someone’s acceptance speech.Well, screw that. His girl wasn’t here and the last thing he would worry about was looking like an asshole on live television.

➣ I’m here.

When he saw those words, the lump in his throat dissolved and his body relaxed into the cushion. His fake smile had been replaced with a genuine one, so at least people who saw him texting during Brad Pitt’s speech would just assume he was texting his girlfriend, who was supposed to fill the vacancy next to him.

Good. I saved you a seat, he typed and sent.

➣ I’m staying backstage. I can’t go out there.

Harry’s smile dropped as he squirmed in his chair. Why? Are you okay?

She took a bit longer to reply.

➣ Yes, don’t worry. There’s a screen here. I can watch you.

Harry muttered a curse as he put his phone back into his pocket. After a moment of leg bouncing and lip biting, he decided to go check on her.

.

.

.

Y/N splashed water on her face, which was now clean of makeup and checked her pathetic reflection in the mirror one last time before she left the bathroom. She’d been sweating so hard on the way here that by the time she’d arrived, Harry’s beauty team’s two-hour of hard work had been ruined. She’d even ripped her dress by accident when she’d nearly fallen headfirst in the car park, so going out there to sit beside Harry would do so much damage to his reputation.

Besides, she was fatigued after the long flight and hadn’t rested since she got off the plane. She’d thrown up as soon as she’d texted him and found the bathroom. So it was for the best if she didn’t make an appearance tonight. It was less intimidating here backstage. She could just watch him on the screen and–

Where the fuck was he?

Her eyes frantically searched on the screen for her boyfriend.

Where had he gone?

No, he couldn’t–

“Bambi!”

She smacked him with her clutch as he rushed in for a hug. The backstage security and a few others couldn’t help the amusement as they watched them. Y/N flashed the strangers a smile before turning back to her boyfriend, who looked so stupidly happy it should be illegal. “Jeff would kill you! Go back out there!”

“But you’re here,” he said.

“I’m not nominated, you idiot!”

“I’m the idiot? You drove here!”

“I have a fucking license!”

“Then you’re an idiot with a fucking license!”

He didn’t wait for her to rebut and locked her in his arms, squeezing the air out of her like he hadn’t seen her in years. She held him back, for a second forgetting that she was sweating like a pig, her hair had fallen loose and her face weary from jetlag. She didn’t feel any less desirable, though. She knew he loved her anyway.

“Go out there with me,” he said, cupping her cheeks and kissing her nose.

“Are you crazy? Look at me!”

He pulled back to consider her appearance, his eyebrow arched. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She glared at him as he grinned. “The world doesn’t wear rose-coloured glasses like you do.”

His face grew serious. “You’re right. Maybe I see a princess and they see a frog.”

Too familiar with his teasing, she snorted, “Your ability to go from Prince Charming to an arsehole never fails to amaze me.”

“My pleasure.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers just in time his phone chimed in his pocket. “Shit, that must be Jeff. I must go before he finds me here.” He let out a long heavy breath and then stroked her hair like she was a child. “Can you stay here by yourself, baby?”

“Keep talking like that and people might think you’re my dad,” she said.

“Daddy.” He smirked.

She hit him again, shaking with laughter. “Go!”

“Okay, love you, idiot.”

“Love you, too, idiot.”

He kissed her on the cheek and then he was gone.

.

.

.

Harry didn’t win.

Even though he’d said he wasn’t disappointed, and he didn’t seem disappointed at all, Y/N still suspected that he might be faking it. It wasn’t such a big loss since he’d been up against some big contenders. He was young, so there was a bigger chance for him to get an Oscar in the future. However, she knew the feeling of not expecting anything but still feeling awful when you didn’t get it. She’d known his chance was flimsy, and yet she had hoped he’d win somehow. She might have to wait until next year to hear his acceptance speech.

Exhausted (Y/N more than Harry), they skipped the after-party to have one at home by themselves. They drank champagne and danced barefoot around the kitchen in their nice clothes. The house which Y/N had compared to a resort soon became familiar with his presence.

Streetlights, stumbling home

To our very own, after party

Won't lie, when we're alone

You're my favourite poem to recite

Harry turned down the volume of the song playing on the speaker. As Y/N poured some more champagne, he climbed onto a chair, standing on one foot, the other foot resting on the kitchen island.

She watched him with lazy eyes and took another sip. “If you fall, I’ll let you fall.”

He chuckled. “I’m overwhelmed by your love, Bambi.” Then he shook his head and pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. It took her two seconds to figure out that it was his acceptance speech. She slid into a chair and gazed up at him with her chin on her knuckles.

He cleared his throat extravagantly and began by thanking the Academy, the cast and crew and the director of his movie, then his family and his team. It must be the wine that made every word he said in that posh accent extremely funny. She laughed so hard she almost fell off the chair.

Then, he took the longest pause to consider her, and the room sank to silence as he worked his jaw before he proceeded. “There’s this girl I love. She used to be my little secret but now she’s here watching me accept my first Academy Award. She’s the reason I’m here today, so I owe this one to her.”

Then he raised his glass as if it was the award and hopped off the chair. Before she could applaud, he’d pulled her to her feet and pressed his mouth against hers, kissing her as if she was the only thing he wanted. She kissed him back just as hard, hands in his hair, on his neck, his chest, his back, his face. Her whole body was on fire. It must be the wine. She needed to get out of this dress and get him out of his suit.

Went to bed without you (While you were sleeping)

Felt colder it used to (I crossed an ocean)

And I can't wait (And I can't wait)

'Till I get back to you

“It sounded better when I first wrote it. I’m kind of glad I didn’t win,” he said against her lips as he picked her up and sat her on the edge of the kitchen island.

She tipped her head back and laughed. “At least you weren’t going to propose to me on the stage.”

Suddenly, he stopped. She blinked as he pulled away, his mouth red and glossy from kissing her. She hadn’t even got a chance to feel bad for making that joke and he’d already stepped back. The next thing she knew, he was on one knee on the floor.

She slapped a hand over her open mouth. Her mind went blank, and the music in the background faded to white noise. The thundering beats in her chest made it hard for her to breathe. He wasn’t going to, was he? But if he was, was she going to say yes?

“My beautiful mermaid, frog, little deer,” he began with a straight face, and she choked out an unexpected laugh muffled by her hand. “I love you,” he said. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Then he sucked in a breath. The suspense was killing her. “But...I don’t want to marry you–”

“Excuse me?!”

“–right now.”

She could tell he was trying his best not to guffaw at her reaction. She was confused and amused at the same time. What was going on? Was he really that drunk? He didn’t seem that drunk. She would kick his arse if he thought this was funny!

“I just want to let you know,” he went on despite the look on her face, “that I will ask you to marry me. I know you hate surprises and if I asked you unexpectedly, the chances of you saying no would be much higher. So let’s consider this as a proposal for a bigger proposal.” He wetted his lips, his eyes fixed on hers. “Y/N, my darling, will you allow me to ask you to marry me someday?”

She laughed out loud though her eyes were already filled with tears. She didn’t know why she was crying but she couldn’t stop. She blamed the wine and him and his stupid speech and whatever the fuck he thought he was doing right now. “I hate you.” She laughed through her tears. “I hate you so much.”

He got up, his eyes wide. “You hate me after I told you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?”

“Yes.”

He closed the distance between them, standing between her legs with his hands on her hips. “Yes, I can ask you to marry me in the future, or yes, you hate me for what I said?”

“Both.” She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his. “I love you. I hate you. I love you,” she said in between kisses. “I love you so much I hate you.”

“Tonight is the best night of my life,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I didn’t want to win. I just wanted you to be there with me.”

“I’ll be there with you next time.” She rested her forehead against his. “And next time, and next time, and forever...”

You don't fall in love once but a million times

Waking up each morning with you by my side

When I drift away, I'll come back with the tide

I'm falling in and out again

Falling in and out again

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Sorry about the late update. My mom passed a few years back on Mother’s Day and last weekend hit me harder than expected. Please don’t feel the need to give any sympathy's. I’m not asking for that. Anyway, hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 98

“Light cannot exist without Darkness for without Darkness how would we...”

“Shut up!” Yami roared.

“...know what Light was.” The all too familiar voice finished.

Yami was sick of the voice. He hated it and wondered if he would instantly recognize the voice if he heard it out in the waking world. While it was similar enough to belong to the same person as the Crazy, Happy, Killer voice that spoke when he and Teris received the History of Chaos; it was also different enough for him to question if it indeed belonged to the same person.

Yami blinked remembering what he had forgotten from the last time the page of Chaos had contacted him. “You were right. The Future of Chaos wasn’t in labyrinth two hundred thousand—whatever.”

“The Future of Chaos is not to be found in labyrinth 297,353. The Future of Chaos has long since been taken and moved. Joined where it can be safe.” The voice said.

Yami puzzled at the word “joined”. But the voice was always saying strange things that didn’t make sense, so he instead focused on another question he had. “How did you know? How did I remember?”

Truthfully, Yami hadn’t actually remembered anything concerning his past dreams with the page of Chaos the night Alowishus had taken Teris and him into the labyrinth. But his distinct feeling that evening, the certainty he had that everything would be alright proved that some unconscious part of him remembered these dreams.

“You remember what you must when it is necessary. Even Chaos must bend to the will of Fate. You and the Light alone are destined to have the Future of Chaos. It is not meant for Death. Death cannot have it.”

“At least we agree on that last part.” Yami muttered.

“The time of Darkness is nearing. Your strength will rise in truth once the Light’s power reaches it peak and begins to dwindled.”

“You’re talking about the Summer Solstice. The days growing shorter and all. Not Teris’ actual power dwindling. Right?”

“The time of Darkness is nearing. Your strength will rise in truth once the Light’s power reaches it peak and begins to dwindled.” The voice said again.

Yami growled. The only thing more annoying than these forced communicative dreams with the page of Chaos, was how the voice repeated itself when it didn’t want to answer a question. Thinking of another question, Yami asked. “Why two years for my supposed rise of power? Teris didn’t have that.” Or did she, he wondered. There was no way to know for sure since they had known nothing about it until last years Summer Solstice.

“You must persevere least the world descend into Darkness. You must remember the Light and not consume it least your wrath fall upon the world.”

“Why would I forget Teris? What do you mean consume her?” Yami was disturbed by the memory of his, or more correctly the Darkness’ hunger for the Light and the way the Darkness had drawn the Light into its bottomless abyss.

“Light cannot exist without Darkness for without Darkness how would we know what Light was.”

“Shut up with that and answer me!”

There was a loud slam and slight reverberation that woke Yami up with a start. He sat up feeling groggy despite having gone to bed early. “I’m awake.”

Door still rattling on its hinges, Jax stormed. “I told you to be downstairs and ready to go before breakfast. Not only were you not downstairs but you’re far from ready.”

Yami shook off the disorientating fog of restless sleep, not feeling all there. “Just give me half a minute.”

Jax watched Yami roll out of bed and stumble, falling to a knee. “You’re not hung over, or worse still drunk are you?”

“Nope.” Yami pushed to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed, putting on his pants.

Jax watched a moment longer.

Yami’s movements became quicker and more sure as he pulled on and laced his boots.

Jax relaxed seeing his Vice Captain become less clumsy. “Did you do as I said? You’re not going to get into a fight with Nozel Silva if I take you, are you?”

“Depends. Braid Face gonna start one?” Yami asked, standing and grabbing the clean white muscle shirt.

“My only concern is that you don’t antagonize or strike first.” Jax said.

“I think I can manage that.” Yami grabbed the two belts off the bedpost, first putting on the sword belt Teris got him that helped hold up his pants and carried his grimoire.

Jax watched the younger man wrap the second belt around his waist. “About last night. I hope you understand my reasoning.”

“Would it change your command if I didn’t?” Yami asked, slipping his sheathed katana into place.

Sorry he had bothered trying to smooth any hard feelings, Jax wondered aloud. “You sure you’re good to do this? The questions Alowishus posed might be unnerving. Never mind what questions Nozel and Fuegoleon might've answered. I told you to work out this aggression you’ve been feeling and you’re still brimming with it.”

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that? You’re the one who said we couldn’t go out.” Yami said.

Jax sighed and turned away. “That’s it. You’re staying.”

Cursing his temper, Yami called. “Captain, wait”

Jax stopped at the closed bedroom door.

Resting his hands on his hips, Yami told. “I won’t antagonize or start a fight with the Royal Ball of Pride. You have my word.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Jax told.

98.2

Walking out of Healer’s Hall with Randall beside him, Fuegoleon found Teris waiting outside. Stepping to his cousin, the Crimson Lions Vice Captain embraced her in a tight hug.

“Leon. I can’t breath.” Teris croaked.

“Deal.” Fuegoleon told, his hold loosening slightly when his still healing wounds complained. Eyes closed in relief and gratitude, shame began to fill him. He didn’t care what anyone said. It was his fault. The Agents of Chaos had used him to get his cousin to comply with their wishes.

Releasing her, Fuegoleon gripped Teris’ shoulders. “Never scare me like that again. You hear me.”

“Scare you? You’re the one who--” Teris stop, unable and unwilling to verbalize the truth. Fuegoleon had almost died. If they had gotten him to the healers just a few minutes later… She shook away the terrible thought and hugged him again.

“Leona said you came by yesterday.”

Teris pulled away and nodded. “You were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb or tax you.”

Fuegoleon almost argued that he would've gladly given up rest to see her; but he didn’t. The visit from the Crimson Lions had taken a lot out of him. But he had endured it. As Vice Captain, he had to show the Crimson Lions he appreciated their care and efforts. More than that, he had to let them see that he was well and able to continue his duties to serve the Kingdom, its people, and the squad. After what had happened to Quince and the lingering un-healable injury that had left the previous Vice Captain unable to return to duty; Fuegoleon felt it necessary to reassure any fears or questions the squad had about him. Once his report was written and he was fully debriefed, he would go out on a mission and waylay any lingering doubts the squad might secretly have about his fitness.

Fuegoleon smiled gently. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“There you go stealing my line, again.” Teris smiled back.

Fuegoleon’s smile faltered. After what had happened during last years Summer Solstice, he had feared that the Agents of Chaos might’ve had something similar planned for Teris and Yami this time too. When Mereoleona had told him about the labyrinth and its missing contents, Fuegoleon’s relief had been overwhelming. Still, he had betrayed his cousin; breaking down and answering Alowishus Spade’s questions when they had begun torturing Nozel to make him speak. He was hardly mad at Nozel for his own worse state because the Silver Eagle had remained silent so much longer than he had. If anything, it added to Fuegoleon’s shame.

Teris saw Fuegoleon’s expression change and shook her head. “Leon, don’t. If you or Nozel had...” She swallowed unable to bear the thought of a world without either of them. Still, she knew something of the guilt Fuegoleon was feeling. She had been there too often herself. Staring up at him, she told. “If you really feel so terrible about it, I’d be happy to give you a penance.”

Randall stepped forward incensed at Teris’ unbelievable nerve.

“Anything.” Fuegoleon said, head lowered.

“You have to promise to do as I command.” Teris said, eyes hard and piercing.

Randall opened his mouth to call a stop to this; but before he could speak, Fuegoleon replied.

“Just tell me how to make this right.”

Teris gripped her cousin’s arm. “Forgive yourself. Don’t beat yourself up over this. You’re ashamed at being taken by these crazies. Yami and I have been abducted and set upon so many times it’s embarrassing. You feel bad for being used. I’ve been used by these lunatics far more than I care to admit. You feel as if you betrayed me. I nearly destroyed the four kingdoms and beyond during last years Summer Solstice. Talk about betrayal.”

Fuegoleon shook his head. She didn’t understand.

“They were torturing your best friend, Leon. I would've answered any question they posed if in your place.”

“I should have been stronger. Held out longer. Nozel managed to.”

“And then Nozel would have been just as bad off as you were, if not worse.” Teris argued.

Fuegoleon exhaled, knowing she was right. It had been an impossible situation. Perfectly planned to be one.

As if reading his thoughts, Teris said. “Alowishus knows what he’s doing. He’s planned this for who knows how many years. Mana knows how many people he has helping him see it through. Using our love and care against us is what they do. They think it’s a weakness, meant to be exploited and manipulated. But it’s our strength. It’s why we go on and won’t break. Why we fight and won’t lose the war, no matter how many battles they win against us.”

Fuegoleon nodded. “We’ll beat them.”

“Do you forgive me?” Before Fuegoleon asked what she meant, Teris went on. “For our argument. For my slapping you. Do you forgive me?”

If it had been a normal argument, Fuegoleon would’ve said I don’t know, then asked if she forgave him. But their fight had been far from normal. And given what had led to it, jokes of ladies undergarments and learning Yami had taken one of Teris’ unmentionables. With the matter still unresolved, he definitely would've insisted that Teris promise to get the garment back, and probably would've demanded that she also distance herself from Yami or at the very least have some decorum where the man was concerned. But this encounter with the Agents of Chaos made issues even as important as that feel insignificant; at least at the present.

Overcome, Fuegoleon pulled Teris into squeezing hug. “Always.”

98.2.2

Teris had a light breakfast with Fuegoleon and Randall at a nearby cafe. Through an unspoken agreement the two cousin’s avoided mentioning Yami and Nozel, neither wanting to cause another argument. After, Teris made her way to Magic Investigations for a meeting with Marx.

Entering the building, Teris recognized the Counter Clerk Manager but didn’t recall his name. “Good morning.”

Axus looked up from his book. “Is it? Hadn’t noticed.”

“That it’s morning? Or that it’s a good one?” Teris questioned, smiling.

Axus’ lips twitched upward. Scowling, he pulled them back down into their usual frown. “What do you what?”

“If you would please inform Marx Francois that Teris Nova is here for our meeting.” Teris said.

Axus scrutinized her a moment, acting as if he didn’t recognize her from before. “You’re Lord Julius’ sister, eh? You look nothing like him.”

“He doesn’t make you call him Lord Julius, does he?” Teris questioned, humored.

“No one makes me do anything.” Axus snapped wondering when he had begun to show the Azure Deers Captain such respect. He turned away. “Give me a moment to call up Marx.”

“There’s nothing I have to fill out or sign for today's visit?” Teris asked.

“Not this time.” Axus said, setting down the communication crystal.

He wondered what Marx could be doing with Julius Nova’s sister that he had asked for her visit be kept off record. Axus didn’t really care. All that mattered was that Marx had asked a favor and it never hurt to win points with the person who would likely be the next Wizard King’s Advisor; especially when you liked and trusted them more than the current Advisor. There was also the case of barrel aged whiskey Marx had given him for the favor…

Axus’ lips smacked at the thought of the nine beautiful bottles waiting for him at home.

Teris lifted an eyebrow. She had found it curious waking up to find Marx had sent message requesting her to meet him at Magic Investigations this morning. Marx struck her as someone who liked to plan well in advance so the spontaneous meeting seemed odd. Adding to the wonder of it was the timing; Nozel was being debriefed at Magic Knights Headquarters at this very moment. And now she didn’t have to sign in when all visitors had to do so, unless they were the Wizard King or Magic Knights Commander.

The two turned at the sound of a door opening.

“Thank you, Axus.” Marx stayed at the door behind the front counter.

Teris gave the Counter Manager a departing smile. “Thank you.”

Axus didn’t know if it was her cheery demeanor or the fact that she remembered he existed once she had gotten what she wanted; but he found his lips tugging upward again. He pulled them back down with a grunt and inclined his head.

Teris followed Marx down a long hall and up several flights of stairs.

Marx opened a final door for her and entered behind, closing it shut. He gestured to the rectangular table. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here.”

“To show me something you couldn’t take out of here?” Teris guessed.

Marx paused in his trek around the table.

Teris shrugged a shoulder. “Why else would you ask for a secret meeting here when we’re having a secret meeting with everyone else this evening? That’s what this is, isn’t it? I didn’t have to sign in, and I’m sure Advisor Ellara is sitting in on Nozel’s debriefing which is going on right now.”

Marx blinked, mildly impressed by her deduction. He blinked again when Teris changed the subject with barely a pausing breath.

“Have you figured out who might've moved the Future of Chaos? Or where they moved it?” Teris asked.

“Magic Investigations is working on that. As are Julius and I.” Marx sank into the straight backed chair across from her. “Are you disappointed the Future of Chaos wasn’t in the labyrinth?”

“Hardly. Alowishus would’ve got it.”

Marx shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean do you want the Future of Chaos?”

Teris frowned. “No. The History of Chaos has been more than enough trouble. I’d be crazy to want to add to it. Even if, when, we’ve moved passed this mess and done away with the Agents of Chaos; I still wouldn’t want the Future of Chaos. It’s too much responsibility.”

“What if someone else were to find it?” Marx wondered.

“I’d feel sorry for them, but glad that stupid prophecy was wrong and it wasn’t Yami and me.” Teris answered, without hesitance.

“But wouldn’t you at least want to have a look at it?” Marx asked.

“I admit my curiosity can be comparable to Julius’. It’s certainly seen me get into enough trouble over the years. But when it comes to the Future of Chaos, I have no interest in ever seeing the thing. I’d probably be like Yami and have ignored the History of Chaos if it weren’t for the possible help it could be in dealing with the Agents of Chaos and figuring out their plans. Not that it’s been any help.” Teris griped under her breath.

Marx wondered if maybe that was why Yami and Teris were destined to have the Future of Chaos. Because neither one wanted it or its information. While Marx may not have wanted the burden of having such a thing in his grimoire, he had to admit he had a great desire to see and read the piece. Destiny was a funny thing, he thought.

Getting to the matter he had called her for, Marx said. “You’re half right. I did ask you here because I wish to show you something. Sadly my magic does not allow me to copy such things as detailed as drawings or images, or I would’ve done that and waited till our meeting this evening. But the reason for showing you doesn’t involve you so much as what you have. The History of Chaos.”

Teris straightened in her seat, interest peaked.

“Captain Jax once mentioned he overheard you ask the History of Chaos about the Master of Master’s and Alowishus Spade.” Marx said.

“Not that it’s done any good. The ink just swirls around on the page then says insufficient image.” Teris grumbled. At least after seeing Alowishus Spade for the first time, she understood why the page of Chaos had said such a thing, unable to display his ever changing image.

“Have you ever asked it about Yurist?” Marx questioned.

Teris blinked, mouth falling open. Yurist was the one who had written both the History and Future of Chaos. How was it that she had never considered asking the page about its author?

Seeing her expression, Marx sighed. “Are all the Nova’s guilty of ignoring the painfully obvious? Or is it just you and Julius?”

Teris bristled; but held her tongue.

“Please do so when you get a chance. For now,” Marx pushed a long, wide, leather clad folder across the table toward her, “please look at that and ask the History of Chaos.”

“Ask it what? What is this?” Teris pulled the hard backed folder closer.

“It’s a small portrait that was found in the ruins of an unearthed city. The team of Magic Investigators assigned to the task have been focusing on what we believe use to be the building that once held Yurist’s lab.”

“Why haven’t I heard of this!”

Marx tilted his head. “Do I know of every mission you Magic Knights go out on?”

“No but--”

“Even Magic Knights Commander Greywright doesn’t know every assignment Magic Investigations is working on. You, Vice Captain, certainly have no right or expectation to know everything that goes on in this division.”

Teris’ shoulders tensed even as they hunched, her form shrinking.

“For your information, I came in before sunrise this morning to learn a fellow Investigation Mage had unearthed that.” Marx inclined his head to the still closed folder. “Which is why I sent you message asking you to come, not knowing when Advisor Ellara would be away again to give us chance for you to see and question the History of Chaos about it.”

“Sorry.” Teris mumbled. She was so use to people, especially her superiors keeping secrets from her and Yami about matters that concerned them that she had assumed this had been more of the same.

“We do not know who the couple in the portrait is, though a number of us here have theories.” Marx said.

“So you want me to what? Look at the picture and ask the History of Chaos about the people in it?” Teris asked, not understanding why. “It doesn’t work that way. It only answers questions about the history of Chaos.”

“If that were true why would it attempt to show you the image of Alowishus Spade?” Marx questioned.

“And fail, saying insufficient image.” Teris retorted.

“If all the History of Chaos did was just strictly cover the history of Chaos why would it even make an attempt at showing you the image of Alowishus Spade or the Master of Master's? However old Alowishus Spade is, I truly doubt he’s old enough to have been alive during the time of Chaos’ reign and defeat which brought about Order.”

Teris frowned, having never considered that. Her eyebrows pulled together, wondering at Marx’s pointed question. Shadows of fragments flinted through his mind trying to coalesce and puzzle something out, but something else pieced together first.

Teris’ eyes lifted to Marx, realization dawning. “You think the portrait is of Yurist.”

98.3

Yami found Teris out at the Saber Wolf pens. His appearance announced by the beasts long before Teris heard or saw him.

“I’ll have you know I had to use my mana sense to find you. What are you doing out here?” Yami almost asked if she wanted to go for a ride, but remembered Jax’s order and bristled.

Teris gave No Name the signal to return to his kennel. “I thought we agreed not to do that unless necessary.”

“When I’d still be walking around searching for you, I consider it necessary. It’s a stupid agreement anyway.”

Teris latched the kennel gate. “Privacy is hardly stupid.”

“If there’s no secrets between us why the need for privacy?” Yami half teased.

Teris turned to him, questioning brow raised. “Do you really want to know every time I go to the baths?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Yami grinned, lewdly.

“Yami.” Teris scolded, lightly. Blushing, she closed the gap between them, burying her face in his chest.

Yami chuckled, holding her to him. “Let me see that pretty blush, Princess.”

Teris shook her head, burrowing deeper into him. It was stupid, but she suddenly became emotional about what happened during this mornings meeting with Marx. Her arms tightened around Yami, seeking his soothing strength. She didn’t even know what she was so distressed about. It wasn’t like the History of Chaos could have been talking about Alowishus. No one could be that old. Then again the man did use corpse magic. And when had anything surrounding Chaos or the works Yurist wrote not spelled some kind of terrible for them.

Yami looked down at the top of her head, growing serious. “What’s this?”

Teris shook her head again.

Yami frowned, a sudden swell of anger bubbling inside him. His teeth ground together, muscle in his jaw ticking in cold burning rage. His arms tightened around Teris. He couldn’t even say what he was so mad about. All he knew was that Teris was upset and he wanted to obliterate whatever had upset her. Pressing his lips to the crown of her head, Yami’s eyes slipped closed. He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, soaking in Teris’ calming warmth. With effort he forced his fisted hands to relax and uncurl; reasoning with himself that he didn’t even know if it was something or someone he could hit.

“Teris. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Teris mumbled against Yami’s strong chest, praying that it truly was nothing.

“Look at me and say that.”

Teris lift her head at Yami’s tone. He sounded angry. But when her eyes met his there was nothing but love and concern.

Yami caressed her cheek. “Talk to me, Ikigai. Tell me what’s wrong.”

98.4

Iban paused in plucking mushrooms and looked at a bird flying overhead. Unlike the other creatures of the forest, the Jay wasn’t startled away by the slithering presence of the person who stalked closer. Odd, since Jay’s were rarely seen without their mate nearby and Iban’s keen eyes hadn’t seen the flashier male.

Leveling his head, Iban turned to the stalking presence. “It doesn’t matter how quiet you are. I always know when you’re about.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned that the Darkness within Yami had reach such strength so soon?” Ellara demanded, getting right to the point.

“I figured your plaything would have told you. Whether he wanted to or not.” Iban said.

“I’ve used Olsen far too much of late.” Ellara told, angry she had been forced to use him at all.

“Is that not what he is for?” Iban questioned.

“What’s it matter to you what I use him for? It’s you who had a deal with the Master.” Ellara said.

“A forced deal to stay out of your way and not interfere with your Master’s plans, or tell anyone anything I know.” Iban said.

“And have you kept that deal?” Ellara asked.

Iban thought of the bit about his family's past that he had told Yami, and what little he had told Jax three weeks ago. Clearly the vow of silence Alowishus had forced him into seemed to think he had kept the deal since the people he cared about were still alive.

Iban wondered if the Captain had found the journal he had told him about. The journal that had belonged to one of the earlier Agents of Chaos’ Masters. The Master who had battled and lost to the Clover Kingdoms last light magic user before Teris. Jax had returned five days after Iban had told where he might find the journal only to leave with Yami and Teris shortly after returning. It wasn’t as if Iban was going to ask the Captain if he had found the thing. He had tested Jax enough with his comments about Bronn the day he revealed what few secrets he could. He had certainly tested the binding vow and jeopardized his loved ones enough.

Looking at Ellara, Iban answered. “My family's existence depends on that deal. Your Master made sure of that.”

Ellara glared, not trusting him.

“Though was such care necessary when a simple traitor could turn himself in and confess all your Master's plans? No doubt your puppet Sir Jorah, along with Magic Knights Commander Greywright and countless others know all about your Master's plans by now.” Iban said.

“As if the Master is careless enough to let a low level follower know his plans.” Ellara shot back.

“Do you know his plans?” Iban asked, pointedly. “Wife and follower you may be, but people like your husband and Master hold all sorts of secrets. Like how to kill a traitor from afar.”

Ellara’s eyes widened. After Greywright had stolen point in dealing with the traitor Flic, she had returned to her office and sent word to Alowishus. Her Master's brief response had been clear. She was to stay well away from the prisoner. When Flic had died yesterday evening, she knew Alowishus had been the cause; but figured he had sent some other follower to infect or slowly poison Flic.

Iban’s golden eyes seemed to glow in the heavily shaded forest. “I know a dark magic decay spell with I hear of its symptoms. It is a slow, terrible way to die. Does your Master have a piece of all his followers? How did he manage to get each of you to willing hand a piece of yourselves over?”

“What do you mean?” Ellara asked, breathless.

“I suppose your Master or some loyal follower could have been lucky. Found some bit of Flic’s person to use for the spell. But Alowishus Spade does not strike me as the type of person to leave things to luck. If I were to guess, I would say it came in the form of an initiation ritual for joining the Agents of Chaos. It is how I would have done it. Something easily done and given with little to no question, and soon forgotten about in the joyous rapture of family found and collective cause.” Sensing Ellara’s quickening heartbeat, Iban cooed. “Do not beat yourself up, Advisor. You are hardly alone in being tricked into willingly, if not happily giving up a piece of yourself. How many other fools—excuse me, followers have joined Alowishus Spade’s supposed cause?”

“Shut up!”

“I doubt he would do to you what he did to that traitor. You are his honored and beloved wife, after all. If he would harm you, what hope does anyone else have of being spared?”

Ellara sneered. “You’re a snake hissing nothing but lies. Twisting and turning peoples words and deeds. Now unless you wish to see the Darkness within Yami bleed out and start to effect him. Tell me just how bad it is.”

“If I am such lying snake who does nothing but twist and turn peoples words and deeds, why would you believe anything I say?” Iban asked.

“Do you want the power within Yami to consume him? The Darkness inside is greater than expected.”

“Greater than you expected.” Iban corrected. “I knew from the start that Yami Sukehiro was more than just a vessel for the Darkness. As to your question. No. I do not wish to see the Darkness consume him. The world would end if it did. Which makes me wonder why your Master wouldn’t want that. Isn’t that the purpose of all this? To end this existence in the foolish hope of beginning the next? Unless that is not his true goal.” Before Ellara could speak, he went on. “As for how bad it is. The Darkness in Yami is already bleeding out and affecting him. He has been more volatile. Angrier than usually. Possibly even more desirous of Teris and the Light that is inside her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? The deal--”

“The deal made with your Master does not include feeding you information. That is something you tried to force upon me. I went along with for a time because it was fun and suited me. But I have long since grown weary of it. If you want such information, try affecting your plaything. Not that you will get anything of use. Olsen has little care unless it is for life's beauty or the romantic. Even if he were around more, he would not see much.”

Ellara raised a brow, realizing. “You’re protective of your sole friend.”

“Hardly.” Iban silently cursed, unable to make himself believe the lie let alone convince her of it.

“So Iban Halvor does have a heart. Interesting.” Ellara would've been glad to have something to use against the Blood Mage. But her own care for Olsen wouldn’t let her hurt him to force Iban into anything.

Iban watched Ellara turn around and step away.

“The Darkness within Yami cannot overtake him before it is time. We will handle it.” Ellara said.

It was an effort for Iban not to use his magic to end the woman then and there. Thankfully she used her transportation charm and disappeared before his control was tested further. No longer in the mood to be surrounded by life and fresh air, Iban looked down at the basket of harvested herbs and mushrooms. He didn’t have all he needed for the brews and potions he was making. But he had enough to get started.

Waving a few bees away, Iban headed back to the base.

98.5

Seated in his bedroom, Bran’s eyes cleared. Even though the encounter he had witnessed had happened deep inside the property’s forest, he turned to the closed door half expecting to see Iban standing there.

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

“Yami is not the concern here. It is Teris. At this rate she will not survive the Ritual of Darkness. If she doesn’t grow stronger the Darkness within Yami will kill her and the Light inside her with it.”

[frogjutsu]

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi x Maito Gai

Word Count: 2088

Warnings: slight angst, lots of tomfoolery

A/N: written as part of the KKG server gift exchange! Feel free to read here or on Ao3

The sun filtering through the branches felt like a lover's caress. It was almost enough to make Kakashi forget how lonely he was. With a sigh he settled further against the tree. The bark scratched against his back and the grass felt cold against his thighs but the scent was comforting. The scent was home. 

Kakashi turned a page in whatever copy of Icha Icha he'd brought with him today. He'd read them so many times he could probably quote them from memory, but he had appearances to keep up. Anyone who saw him would simply assume he was reading his pervy books again and leave him alone. Well, almost anyone. 

"Ah, there you are, rival," Gai's voice boomed as he jogged up to Kakashi. He was surprised Gai wasn't running on his hands this time. "I've been looking for you."

"And you've found me," Kakashi said, not looking up from his book. It would be too much like looking into the sun. 

"I've devised a new challenge for us. One that will truly test our limits as shinobi. Are you interested?"

Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes, Kakashi thought, but what came out of his mouth was: "I suppose" coupled with a shrug. 

Gai laughed and it echoed through Kakashi's heart. It might've been the most beautiful sound he ever heard. "Cool as ever, dear rival. In that case, you'll need this." Gai whipped out a small booklet - from where in that skintight suit Kakashi couldn't tell. If Kakashi's eyes lingered too long, Gai didn't mention it. 

Finally, Kakashi set his copy of Icha Icha to the side and reached for Gai's hand. Their fingers brushed as he took the booklet and Kakashi wondered if all of Konoha could hear his heart pounding. Before he could ask what the book was, Gai interrupted: “Meet us at the theatre tomorrow night.” 

“Us,” Kakashi asked as he opened the book. His eyes trailed across a hand-written script. The character “Damsel” was highlighted. 

“Yes! Team Gai is going to put on the ultimate display of youth and you are to be our damsel in distress. Then the audience shall decide who embodied their emotions better: the infamous Copy Ninja or the Green Beast of Konoha.” Gai planted his fists on his hips, striking a pose as Kakashi stared at the pages before him. What had he gotten himself into? 

It was not the only time Kakashi asked himself that question. In fact, it seemed to be the only thought he could form as he memorized the few lines he had and showed up to the theater, only to be rushed into what was clearly a storage closet someone had hurriedly turned into a changing room. Sakura and Ino had been roped into helping Team Gai with makeup and wardrobe, though, as they forced him into a rather skimpy pink dress and braided wig, Kakashi doubted they really needed any convincing. At least Sakura was thoughtful enough to include a matching pink mask. 

As he was ushered onto the stage and the curtains lifted to reveal most of the village gathered around to watch this farce - play, Kakashi corrected himself - Kakashi tried to pinpoint exactly which decisions in his life had led him to this point: dressed in pink and lace surrounded by a trio of children with plastic swords and too-big costumes pretending to be pirates. Perhaps if he’d never joined the ANBU or if his father had never died. Maybe it was just an inevitability. Perhaps Kakashi Hatake was always doomed to give more of himself than he would ever receive. 

He was broken out of his gloomy reverie when Gai burst forth from the wings, dressed in a loose flowing white shirt and pants that seemed even tighter than his green jumpsuit. His hair was held back with a leather band and - Did he oil his chest? Kakashi thought, noting how Gai’s skin glistened under the stage lights. 

Lee elbowed Kakashi in the hip. “It’s your line, Kakashi sensei.” 

“Oh,” he replied, forcing his thoughts back to script. He cleared his throat and began: 

“Blessed be the gods for sending the Green Beast. Save me from these scoundrels and then we shall feast.” 

Gai stalked across the stage, pulling his own plastic sword out of its sheath. “My dear Princess, it would be my pleasure / for rescuing you would be life’s greatest treasure. / Avast, ye pirates. Stand and fight! / Draw your swords and face my might!” 

Now it was Lee’s turn to jump forward into the spotlight. “First you must pay the princess’s ransom! / I don’t care if you are devilishly handsome. / 10,000 yen is what we agreed. / If you can’t pay she’ll be tossed to the sea.”

Silence fell over the stage for a moment as Lee and Gai stared each other down. Then, Lee coughed and looked at Neji out of the corner of his eye. Kakashi thought he heard Neji mutter something about wishing the swords were real so Gai could kill him, but he stepped forward nonetheless. 

His voice was blank as he spoke, brandishing his sword as if he wished he were anywhere else. “Captain, please. Don’t be a fool. / There’s no way you could beat the Beast in a duel.” 

TenTen took a step toward Kakashi. She was definitely the most comfortable of the three of them, and, as she pressed the sword under Kakashi’s chin he honestly had to remind himself that this was just a play. “Take another step and I’ll end her life,” TenTen said. “And then you’ll never take her as your wife.” 

Wife. Kakashi let his mind turn the word around in his head, wringing it out until he could pull a drop of meaning from it. He’d never been one for domesticity. Never really given a thought to marriage, having spent so much time alone already, but Kakashi had to admit the thought of being whisked off his feet by a local folk hero and devoting himself so wholly to them held some appeal. Then again, as Gai leapt forward and began his choreographed fight with his teammates, Kakashi realized he was already devoted to someone. 

The fight was beautiful, really. Kakashi was sure Gai choreographed it himself. He could see the fluidity in the movements, the way each step was tailored to each character. Kakashi found himself distracted by the sheen of sweat dripping down Gai’s chest, trailing down and out of sight past a tear that appeared where one of the kids got too excited by their role as villains. The clash of plastic swords could barely be heard over the cheering of the audience as Gai gave one final blow to Lee and he died dramatically, dropping to the stage floor next to Neji and TenTen. 

Kakashi walked forward, hands still bound behind his back. “You truly are a hero, my dearest Gai. / Stuck with those pirates I was afraid I would die.” 

Gai closed the distance between them, reaching around Kakashi to pull at the rope around his wrists. It fell free with little effort, but the action brought their chests together and Kakashi swore he could feel the rumble of the next words Gai said in his ribs. “I will always save you, my dear Princess. / No matter the challenge. No matter the test.” Gai brushed his knuckles against the underside of Kakashi’s jaw, pulling his mask down just past his lips, and wrapped his left arm around his waist. “You’re free now to do what you like. / Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” 

“The honor is mine,” Kakashi said, more breathless than he’d intended. He hoped Gai would just write it off as good acting. “After such a brave feat. / No better man could I hope to meet. / So ask me again. I’ll respond with a sigh. / There’s no greater honor than becoming Mrs. Maito Gai.”

The audience cheered as Gai pressed his forehead against Kakashi’s, but neither of them heard it. There could have been a stampede of elephants running across the stage or a surprise ambush from a neighbouring village and it wouldn’t have mattered. All Kakashi could think about was how warm Gai’s skin felt against his and how Gai’s hand felt like it belonged on the small of his back and how easy it would be to just lean forward and claim his lips and argue that it was an acting choice later, but that would require spine and Kakashi may have been reckless at times but he’d never been brave and - 

And then Gai did something unscripted. He pressed his lips against Kakashi’s and his knees buckled. Kakashi was sure he would’ve fainted if Gai’s arm hadn’t been there to hold him up. Gai was always there to hold him up. 

The audience erupted into cheers again, but Kakashi only cared about the taste of Gai’s lips. Salty and sweet, tasting vaguely of sweat and matcha and the dango they’d all had backstage before the show started. Kakashi let his tongue brush against Gai’s lips, but he broke away with a laugh. 

“Eager, I see, my dear Princess. / But after such an ordeal, I’m sure you must rest. / After all this concludes our heroic tale. / So now I must bid you all farewell.” Gai stepped away from Kakashi and took a deep bow. It wasn’t until Lee, Neji, and TenTen returned to the stage that he realized he was supposed to do the same. Gai’s hand felt like a hot coal in Kakashi’s. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to toss it to the ground or cling to it until it became a diamond in his grip. 

After what felt like an eternity of bowing and clapping and greeting the audience, Kakashi finally escaped back to his changing room. He quickly peeled the dress off and yanked on his uniform pants. He wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to simply use a teleportation jutsu to get home. Otherwise, he might have to face Naruto in the audience, and Kakashi wasn’t sure his nerves could handle that right now. 

A knock interrupted his plans. Before Kakashi could say anything, the door opened as quickly as it shut and Gai stood before him, still in his costume. The closet changing room didn’t offer much space and, with Gai blocking the exit, Kakashi knew there was little chance for escape. 

“You were wonderful out there tonight, rival,” Gai said. His voice seemed even louder in the small space. Kakashi didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it. 

“Thank you, but I think you’ve bested me this time.” 

“Almost certainly,” Gai laughed. “But I must say, pink is your color.” He stepped forward and brushed his knuckles against Kakashi’s jaw again. In the dim light of the closet, far from the scrutiny of his peers, Kakashi let himself enjoy the moment. He closed his eyes and leaned against Gai’s touch, let himself be led as Gai pulled Kakashi closer by the hips. “What do you say to rehearsing for our next performance?” 

Kakashi might’ve said something in response, but it was lost as Gai claimed his lips with his own. It quickly became clear that the kiss on stage was an act, a buildup to this beautiful crescendo. Gai was more insistent now, pushing his own tongue between Kakashi’s lips as one hand slid up Kakashi’s bare back to tangle in the short hair at the nape of his neck and the other held so tightly to Kakashi’s hip he knew it would bruise in the morning. He couldn’t bring himself to care as he cradled Gai’s face close to his, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to admit that this was probably just a dream or an act or something unreal because good things simply didn’t happen to him and there was nothing more good than Maito Gai. 

Finally, Kakashi’s brain caught up with him, though, and he jerked away. “Wait. What do you mean next performance?”

Gai only smiled, reaching behind to pull another booklet out of his back pocket. “A chance to regain your honor and prove who’s the better thespian when we perform the sequel.” 

Kakashi hummed in response as he took the booklet. Gai’s hands settled on Kakashi’s waist, stroking the skin over his hips and sending fire coursing through Kakashi’s body. He flipped through the booklet and pretended to read the words as Gai began to kiss the skin of his shoulders. There was a single character highlighted: Damsel.