#if he had known from the start and if the rescue hadn't been followed by the relationship reveal

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

[fic: ynyd] Clint, I know it’s terrible to think back upon, but what were your thoughts when you finally saw The Recording during the raid at Beck’s hideout?

You're right, I don't like thinking about it.

I didn't know that's how it happened. It made a lot of things make sense. I just wanted to get Peter and Tony out of there.

Listen, I still don't like how Tony did things afterwards, all right, but-- I'll just say, Beck's lucky that Peter got to him first.

[make-me-imagine]

Something Perfect, Something New

Plot: Geon-Woo and Woojin hit it off with the new server at Geon-Woo's mothers cafe, more than any of them are expecting.

Pairing: Geon-Woo x Gn!Reader x Woojin

Request: reader recently moving to Korea (you don’t have to be specific about where she’s from) and taking on a job as a barista in Gun-woo’s mum’s cafe? (I’d imagine she has bigger aspirations later on but we all need to start somewhere, right?) And while the dude bros pay a visit to Gun-woo’s mum they also meet her and hit it off? This can evolve into something romantic for sure ✨

Requested by: @auraee

Warnings: Mentions of being followed/stalked towards the end, creepy guy. but don't worry Geon-woo and Woojin come to the rescue. References to a Poly-Relationship.

A/n's: I hope you meant for this to elude to a poly relationship because that's what happened! lol I see Geon-Woo's name spelled different all the time so I hope I went with the correct spelling (its geon-woo in show descriptions, and gun-woo in translations, but idk which one it really is) I started writing this a few months ago and just came back to it, so if you notice a change in tone or vibes halfway through that's why.

Words: ~4.4k

You smiled brightly at a couple leaving the cafe as you said goodbye. The evening was drawing near, as was the end of your first week at your new job.

After making the sudden, and quite terrifying decision to leave everything behind and move to Seoul to start over, you landed a job at a cafe.

The owner, Yoo So-Yeon had been gone for a while after her cafe was nearly destroyed by debt collectors. She had told you about how her son and his best-friend helped her, and she finally felt secure enough to come back. Though she didn't give much detail, you could tell the ordeal had a toll on her and her family.

You had heard she needed help after re-opening and were lucky enough to land the job. Now you were settling in and trying to discover yourself all over again.

"Quite a busy day today huh?" Mrs. Yoo said with a smile as she walked past you.

You nodded as you finished cleaning off a table, "Nothing we can't handle though."

She let out a soft laugh as she patted your shoulder. She was fond of you, and you of her. She helped you get settled into the unfamiliar city, and had even cooked for you various times. You were glad you met her.

Hearing the cafe door open you glanced up, wondering if someone missed the 'CLOSED' sign Mrs. Yoo had just put up. Seeing two tall attractive men enter you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Ah, there you two are!" Mrs. Yoo greeted happily as she walked over to the two grinning men.

'That must be her son and his friend.'

You watched them for a minute as they spoke, before the one you assumed was Mrs. Yoo's son, due to the scar on his face she had mentioned, glanced over and caught sight of you.

You felt your heart jolt as you bowed your head lightly in greeting and smiled.

Mrs. Yoo followed Geon-Woo's line of sight and exclaimed with a small clap. "Oh, yes! You finally get to meet!"

Mrs. Yoo walked over to you before grabbing you by the wrist and leading you over to the two men.

"This is Y/n, the one who I hired to help. Y/n, this is my son Geon-Woo and this is Woojin."

You smiled at them, "It's nice to finally meet you."

The two of them bowed in greeting smiling at you. Geon-Woo had known his mother hired you, but hadn't made the trip over to meet you, seeing you now, he wished he had.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and as Woojin subtly nudged his arm, he knew his friend was feeling the same thing.

Now sitting around one of the tables, Mrs. Yoo brought over some coffee. You could feel Woojin and Geon-Woo eyeing you, and every time you looked at them they quickly looked away.

You wondered if they feared you would do Mrs. Yoo harm after all that had happened to her. But this fear of suspicion quickly faded as they started asking you questions and talking energetically, as if they were just curious about you.

Your conversation with the two men lasted almost two hours, and you tried to ignore the sly and amused looks Mrs. Yoo was giving the three of you. You couldn't help but wonder if she might try and set you up with one of them.

Eventually, Mrs. Yoo told you to go home before it got too late. The two men offered to walk you home, and after an attempted refusal that went unheard, you gave in and allowed it.

Your conversation flowed as you walked home, and by the time you got to your door, you felt as though you had known the two for ages.

Three weeks had passed since your first meeting with Geon-Woo and Woojin. You had become closer to them than you had expected in the short time you knew them. They came to the cafe almost every day, gave you tours of the city, took you out to eat, and even helped you build the new furniture you bought for your apartment.

The seemed to always be around you now, and you weren't complaining one bit, you even started to miss them after being away from them for short periods.

Mrs. Yoo teased you about them being your boyfriends. You thought she just enjoyed the way it made you bashful and embarrassed. You hadn't quite understood just how serious she was yet.

On the outside, it was nearly impossible to tell who you were dating between them, if either, or both.

It was obvious something was developing between the three of you, but what, you weren't quite sure of yet. You were too afraid to focus on the 'what ifs' that you ignored what was already happening.

Woojin sighed as he stretched his arm across your shoulders, smiling at the new bed finally set up in your bedroom.

"See? Told you it would be worth it."

Goo-Wan smiled proudly as he started to open the new sheets you had bought for the bed.

"I still think it's too big." You said while eyeing the large mattress. You were glad to be rid of the air mattress you had been sleeping on, but this was...a bit much.

You missed how Goo-Wan and Woojin locked eyes as they began unraveling the absurdly large fitted sheet that would surely be a pain in the ass to put on.

You giggled at the two as they struggled to put the sheet on, each opposite corner coming undone as soon as they finished one.

When finished, they high fived in celebration before sitting on the end of the bed. As the looked at you with grins you felt you heart flutter before clearing your throat.

"You know I'm gonna make you two come over and do that every time I have to change the sheets right?"

They chuckled, sharing another look before turning towards you.

"How about some lunch?"

They nodded energetically and followed you out of the room. You promised them whatever they wanted for helping you finish setting up your apartment. It was the least you could do.

Watching Geon-Woo strategically time flipping the meat on the barbecue, you slowly sipped at your drink. You were overly aware of the nearby table of girls eyeing the two curiously as they whispered.

You hated that it annoyed you, so you tried your best to ignore it. Its not like you were dating them.

Looking away from the girls, your eyes locked with a mans at a nearby table. You involuntarily made a soft noise of shock at the sudden eye contact as the man smirked and winked at you.

You looked away quickly, but Woojin noticed the action. He looked back at the man before he gave an obvious look of annoyance as the guy continued to stare at you.

Woojin took a piece of meat and set it on top of your rice as he spoke somewhat loudly, "Here jagiya."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, as Geon-Woo quickly looked over at Woojin as well.

Woojin looked over at Geon-Woo before subtly motioning his head to the man nearby. Geon-woo looked back, seeing the man looking between you and Woojin, a somewhat amused smirk on his face before he eyed you knowingly.

Geon-Woo swallowed as his chest tightened with his own annoyance at the man, understanding what Woojin was doing. Geon-Woo, deciding to do the same, grabbed a few veggies as he placed them on your plate.

"Have some of these too jagiya."

Your mouth was now agape as Geo-Woo joined Woojin in his attempt at shooing off the stranger. You saw the girls nearby eye each other in surprise as they began whispering more.

You leaned forward as you spoke in a bewildered tone, "What are you doing?"

Woojin and Geon-Woo locked eyes for a second before they looked back at you, "Making sure that guy doesn't do anything."

You glanced at the man as he now avoided looking over at you. "What makes you think he was going to do anything?"

Woojin scoffed softy, "Oh please he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you."

You grimaced at the expression as you shook your head, making Geon-Woo and Woojin smirk.

Looking over at Geon-Woo you frowned, "Why'd you join in too? Now we're being gossiped about."

You motioned your head towards he girls who were still talking in hushed voices, but obviously about the three of you.

Geon-Woo and Woojin thought for a second before shrugging and speaking at the same time, "So?"

You stared at them bewildered, "It doesn't bother you?"

They shook they're head as Geon-Woo asked in an innocent tone, "Why would it?"

"Yeah, it's not like we're offended at the thought of dating you." Woojin added.

You felt your neck and ears grow hot, "But you made it sound like you were both dating me."

They nodded softly as if that was obvious and you blinked a few times unsure of what to say now. Woojin let out a soft laugh at your perplexed expression.

"Cute." He mumbled, making your ears burn even hotter.

You glared at him, "Don't tease me."

Geon-Woo laughed under his breath as Woojin stared at you with a challenging glare. "Make me."

You stuck your tongue out at him as you began picking at your food in an attempt to get past the almost overwhelming shyness washing over you. Geon-Woo and Woojin shared a knowing smile as they watched you in adoration.

Making it back to the cafe, you entered to find a few customers scattered around, as Mrs. Yoo had a conversation with another from behind the counter. Spotting the three of you, she waved in greeting.

Heading to the back to get your name-tag and apron, you were glad you didn't come to work during a rush, afraid you had left Mrs. Yoo to fend on her own for too long.

Coming back out, Woojin and Geon-Woo were at the counter talking with her. Seeing you she motioned you over and talked in a soft voice as she motioned to a young man in the corner.

"Your admirer is here."

You glanced at the man and let out a soft scoff, "Have you taken his order?"

"He says he wasn't ready yet. I think he was just waiting for you." She winked teasingly as you left with a soft shake of the head before heading over to the table.

Mrs. Yoo looked over at Woojin and Geon-Woo and repressed a laugh at their glare towards the man.

Woojin turned to Mrs. Yoo and spoke in a hushed and annoyed tone. "Admirer? Who is he?"

"A customer who came in once, and ever since he met Y/n has been coming every day since. But he only orders when Y/n is here."

Geon-Woo and Woojin looked back to watch you. You smiled politely at the man as you took his order. Their chests both clenched tightly as the man stared at you intensely with a smile, obviously crushing on you.

Heading back to the counter, you handed Mrs. Yoo the man's order.

"Did he ask you out yet?"

You spared a glance at Geon-Woo and Woojin and were almost thrown off by their intense stares.

You cleared your throat softly, "He asked when I was getting off work but I just told him I'm not sure. I'm not interested in him like that."

Mrs. Yoo nodded her head in understanding as she glanced at the two boys with an amused smile.

You looked over at the two and paused, "What?"

Woojin spoke with a bold tone, "You should tell him straight that you are not interested."

"I don't want to hurt his feelings."

Geon-Woo leaned closer, "He might get bolder though if you don't stop it now."

You bit the inside of your lip as you glanced back at the man, finding him looking away swiftly.

You sighed, "You're probably right."

Woojin nodded, "We are."

You looked back over at them again, noticing the change in their behavior. It was almost as if they were jealous again.

"Weren't you guys going to the gym to practice?"

Checking the time they both startled, "Ah we're gonna be late."

Woojin ruffled your hair as a goodbye as Geon-Woo went behind the counter to say goodbye to his mother before he gently squeezed your shoulder as he left. You waved goodbye to them before catching the man in the corners eye again. Your chest tightened as you felt a bit guilty at the thought of rejecting him when he hasn't even made a move. What if he just wanted a friend?

Getting back to work, you paid more attention to the customer. Noting that he stayed longer than usual, well after he had finished his food. When he eventually left, you let out a sigh of relief, suddenly realizing just how much his attention weighed on you. You hadn't noticed before, but now that you did, you felt a bit overwhelmed by it. Maybe it would be best to show your disinterest.

Flipping the sign from Open to Closed, you big farewell to Mrs. Yoo as she left, heading out to have dinner with her friends.

You kept the cafe open for longer than usual to let a group celebrate a birthday. But it meant you were now leaving after it got dark.

Checking over the cafe one more time as you shut everything off, you left the cafe and looked around at the darkened sky. Looking down the road, your heart jolted a bit as you noticed a hooded figure lingering on the corner of the road.

Seeing they were standing under a Bus Stop sign you let out a soft sigh. "Don't overreact Y/n."

Turning away, you began heading down the road towards your apartment. It was about a fifteen minute walk, and the night was cool and quiet. You took in a deep breath, picking up on the hint of barbecue nearby, reminding you of how hungry you were.

Walking past a few shops, your eyes caught on the reflection of the road behind you. Yours steps hesitated as your heart sank. The hooded figure from before was across the street from you, and walking the same direction.

You let out a steady breath as you continued walking. "Don't assume, but be cautious." You told yourself, as you kept a vigilant eye and ear out.

Noticing the figure crossing the street and remaining behind you, you decided to test your theory. At the next cross-walk you crossed the street, and your heart raced when the figure did the same. Next you turned down a road you never take, and they followed. You crossed the street again, and so did they.

Having enough, you reached into your pocket and texted your group-chat with Geon-Woo and Woojin.

"Are either of you awake?"

A moment later a text from Geon-Woo came through.

"We're at the gym, what's up?"

"I'm walking home, and I think I'm being followed."

Only a few moments passed before your phone rang. Answering it you heard their concerned voices over the line and the sound of them grabbing their stuff.

"Where are you?" "Are you okay? Why are you out so late."

Already feeling more relieved to be talking to them, you kept glancing at the reflection behind you, still seeing the figure.

"The cafe closed late because of a party. I'm getting close to that store we get our smoothies from."

You heard Geon-Woo's voice in the background, "We're about five minutes from there."

"Go into the store and stay there. Don't let them get near you okay?"

"Okay."

"Stay on the line with me."

As you got closer to the store, you could hear Woojin and Geon-Woo on the line, obviously rushing out of the gym and running. Your heart raced with adrenaline, but also gratitude of Woojin and Geon-Woos care for you. You desperately wanted them there with you now, but took relief in knowing they were coming to find you.

"I'm at the store." You said softly as you entered, sparing a glance back to see the figure was closer than before.

They hesitated as you headed inside. You hoped they wouldn't come in, or would pass by and give up on following you.

As you smiled at the cashier who barely spared you a glance, you headed to the back of the store and acted as tough you were browsing. Hearing the bell of the store as the door opened and closed, your heart dropped as you saw the hooded figure enter the store.

You made sure to keep your distance and you maneuvered through the store, grabbing a few things here and there.

You whispered into the phone, "They came in."

"We're almost there!" You heard a panting Woojin on the line.

You swallowed nervously as you rounded the corner again, the figure getting too close for comfort. Finally hearing the door of the store open with a clang you looked over to see Woojin and Geon-Woo.

You let out a sigh of relief as your body seemed to relax from the building tension in your muscles. As they hurried through the store to you, they glanced at the hooded figure who was only on isle away. The person turned away as Woojin and Geon-Woo approached you.

Woojin spoke out loud, obviously so the person would hear him. "Jagiya there you are. Sorry we're late."

As he got to you he set his hand on your shoulder and nodded. You nodded in return as Geon-Woo reached you, "Are you okay?"

You nodded at him as he gently pulled you to his chest, "Let's go okay?"

Agreeing, you headed to the front, as Geon-Woo took the things from your hand and paid for them, his arm remaining wrapped across your shoulder.

Woojin looked back at the figure and saw his eyes. His face dropped as he was sure it was the customer from the cafe. The figure quickly left the store, avoiding eye contact. Woojin's heart raced in anger as he barely resisted the urge to chase after him. but not wanting to freak you out more, he resisted, knowing he would need to do something later.

Heading back into the street, Geon-Woo and Woojin looked around for any sight of the man. Not seeing him they let out sighs.

Woojin cursed under his breath, "I knew he would do something."

You looked at Woojin in surprise. "He?"

"It was the guy from the cafe."

Your heart jolted, but it made unfortunate sense. A few days prior, you had finally made it clear to the man at the cafe that you were not interested. He asked for your number, and you rejected him. Kindly, you had hoped. But his demeanor changed, and he left silently. You hadn't seen him again since except for once, when you saw him lingering outside the cafe, looking in at you.

"You rejected him but he couldn't take it."

Woojin's words made you shudder and Geon-Woo pulled you closer. "Don't worry we'll handle it okay? I promise." Woojin nodded in agreement.

Their words consoled you as you let them walk you home, allowing them to remind you to never walk home this late without one of them being with you.

The whole way, you continued to glance around, fearing he was still lingering. Geon-Woo and Woojin feared the same, so once they got you to your apartment, they had a conversation while you were in the bathroom.

When you came back out, now in your pajamas, they had made themselves at home on the couch as Woojin ordered food over the phone.

"You're hungry right?" Geon-Woo asked and you nodded, feeling much safer knowing they were there, but fearing when they would leave.

Sitting down on the floor in front of them as you leaned on the table you looked at Geon-Woo. "Should I call the main office and ask the security to look out for him?"

Geon-Woo moved from the couch to the floor in front of you, "We already did."

You nodded, "That makes me feel better. I wont be awake all night."

Geon-Woo smiled softly, "You don't need to worry, we'll be here."

You rose your brow, "You will?"

Woojin hung up the phone and joined the two of you on the floor. "We're staying tonight, we decided."

"O-oh. I mean...that does make me feel better, but are you sure? I don't want to-"

"We want too." Geon-Woo broke in.

Woojin nodded, "We'd feel a lot better staying with you, to make sure you're safe."

You smiled, "I'd feel better too."

After you ate and watched a movie, Woojin and Geon-Woo started to get ready for bed. Meanwhile, you grabbed what extra blankets and pillows you had and began making the living room comfortable.

Geon-Woo, coming out of the bathroom and seeing you, questioned you. "What are you doing?"

"Making it more comfortable for you."

"But we're not sleeping out here."

You stopped and eyed him, "Huh? Then where?"

Hearing a noise in your bedroom, you frowned as Geon-Woo repressed a smile watching as you headed towards the sound. Turning off the lights and checking the door, he grabbed the pillows before following behind.

Finding Woojin in your bedroom, fixing the bed, you watched him in confusion.

He glanced over at you, and spotting Geon-Woo behind you and smiled. "Ah perfect."

Walking over, he took the pillows from him before setting them on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

He looked over at you, "Getting ready for bed?"

"In...my bed?"

He looked at the bed, then to you, then to Geon-Woo and back to you before nodding. "Why do you think we got you such a big mattress?"

Your mouth was agape for a moment as you tried to find words. "S- So you could sleep in the bed with me?"

He nodded as he grinned, finding your realization and bewilderment adorable. Geon-Woo walked past you and finished helping Woojin fix the bed before they both turned towards you expectantly.

You looked between them, before they motioned for you, "Come on."

Hesitantly, you approached, "Which side do you-"

"You get the middle." Woojin broke in.

"The middle?"

"You'll be safest there." Geon-Woo excused.

"And warmest." Woojin added with a smile.

You nodded mutely as you slowly climbed into the bed, your heart racing as they climbed in after. You lied on your back and stared up at the ceiling, overly aware of how close they got to you. Woojin was facing you as Geon-Woo was still sitting up against the back of the bed, looking down at you.

Your mind was still stuck on the fact that they bought you the giant bed for the purpose of sharing. Finally breaking the tense silence, you looked between them. "But you didn't know something like this would happen so why would you be prepared to have a big bed to share with me?"

They shared a glance and smiled before Woojin cleared his throat, "Are you sure you don't know why?"

Your mind flashed back to the various times they flirted, made jokes, or acted as though they were both dating you. The various comments from Mrs. Yoo about them being your boyfriends, or you being like a child to her already.

Looking between Woojin and Geon-Woo again as they smiled softly and knowingly at you, you felt your whole body get hot with embarrassment and nervousness.

Grabbing the blanket you slowly pulled it upwards until your face was hidden.

Woojin and Geon-Woo both chuckled before they climbed further into the bed. You felt them both beside you, and were sure they were facing you.

Feeling Woojin grab the blanket you tightened your grip as he tried to remove it from your head. You heard Geon-Woo chuckle softly as Woojin pulled harder.

"Jagiya" He said softly, making your heart leap.

Suddenly the blanket was yanked from your hands again and you were met with Woojin and Geon-Woo's smiling faces as they lied facing you, sandwiching you between them.

"You don't have to be scared, or worried." Geon-Woo began.

Woojin followed, "We're still figuring this out too. We never expected to meet someone we would both have such strong feelings for."

Geon-Woo reached over and gently caressed your cheek, "We want to be with you, and protect you, and make you happy. If you'll let us."

"It might take some time to get used to the idea, but we'll wait for you." Woojin finished.

You looked between them, your heart racing faster than ever before. "But what if it doesn't work out? Or what if it causes problem's between you?"

They looked at each other and shook their heads gently. Woojin met your eyes, "We've been talking about this for a while, and I really don't think that will happen. But if it starts too I promise we will work it out. We want to make this work. We want to be with you. So we'll go slowly from here okay? But we want you to know our intentions."

"Is that okay with you?" Geon-Woo asked softly.

You thought for a moment, aware of their gazes on you as they waited patiently, though nervously.

It was obvious you had developed feelings for both of them, and your fear of choosing, or being rejected had both been subdued. You weren't sure if it was going to work out. But you knew how you felt now. You adored them, and trusted them, and felt safe with them. You believed their words, and you wanted to be with them too.

Nodding slowly, you looked between them, and they smiled, relief and joy washing over them.

Woojin, overcome by his giddiness leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, making you chuckle out of surprise. Geon-Woo chuckled as well, before he leaned forward and pressed a much more delicate kiss to your temple.

After a few more adjustments, you found yourself comfortably and safely drifting to sleep as Woojin and Geon-Woo slept on either side of you, their arms draped across you as they both held you close.

xx End xx

Wasn't sure where to end it, so I chose to stop here. This became a bit of an indulgence fic, but if there is anyone who wants a part two, or continuance of this fic/relationship, let me know, I would def be willing to write it!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry,

-Taglist Form-

[natelia-aldelliz]

Guys imagine, Roach died, before the creation of 141, but Soap is able to see his ghost. He was originally following Ghost around, really annoyed that he was using his death as an excuse to not get close to anyone, but when he found out Soap could see him and talk to him he started following him around instead.

And they get really close, like two peas in a pod, except they have to be discreet about it because no one else can see or hear Roach, and they'd think Soap was crazy if they saw him talking to no one.

They use that for shenanigans too: Roach will go follow someone else and report back to Soap, Gaz is genuinely starting to believe Soap has superpowers or something. It's really useful on missions as well, and Soap managed to successfully rescue team members thanks to Roach being able to move through walls and everything.

(Roach is not the only ghost Soap is able to see btw, just the only one he's talking to.)

And then Roach is witnessing his past lover trying really hard to not fall in love with Soap, and Soap trying really hard to not do anything about the love he already feels, and he has to try and convince Soap that he is dead. During that conversation he finds out that something else that keeps Soap from doing something is that he feels very confused about everything because he also has feeling for Roach.

So now Roach has to try and convince him that even if he was still alive he wouldn't have a problem with that. He's known for a while that he was polyamorous, but he hadn't really dared talking to Ghost about that because he thinks he's jealous and possessive.

And Soap is like "oh yeah, you want me to go say to Ghost 'don't worry about your dead lover that I'm not supposed to know, he's actually polyamorous and also in love with me, I know because his ghost told me!' ??? I'm sure he's gonna take that well!"

But Roach is nothing if not resourceful and he manages to put Soap in situations where he's forced to interact with Ghost, and eventually they kiss and their relationship is beginning to be something. They're not really sure what.

And Roach is sad, because he has to watch the two men he loves being in love without him, yes, but at least they're both happy, and it makes him feel a bit better. And then during a mission Ghost almost dies.

Because he was alone and Soap and Gaz were together, Roach was following Ghost this time, ready to fly to Soap in an instant if there was any problems. But there was and he didn't have time, so he instinctively grabbed the gun being pointed towards Ghost's head and moved it as the person was shooting, saving Ghost's life, giving him enough time to shoot the enemy himself.

But even as the threat is eliminated, Ghost is still looking up from where he's on the ground, staring right through him, looking shocked. No, not right through him, he realises when he moves to the side and Ghost's eyes follow him. He also realises that he grabbed the gun. He's never grabbed anything before, in all his years of being a ghost.

Then suddenly Ghost's eyes move wildly around, and he figures he disappeared from his view. He can still go through the walls, but he's kept the ability to grab stuff when he wants. It gives him a ton of new possibilities, to fuck with people and, of course, to touch Soap.

"I wish you were actually alive," Soap whispers to him, holding his hands against his face as he's falling asleep.

"What the fuck," comes Ghost's voice the next morning, waking both of them up - wait, since when could Roach sleep?

Soap doesn't understand immediately, because he's always been able to see Roach. But Ghost is standing in the door, looking straight at dead past lover.

Turns out Soap is a necromancer and he had no idea, though the whole 'I can see dead people' should probably have told him sooner that he wasn't normal... The more he wishes Roach is alive, the more he actually is. And they all end up happy and together. And Gaz is very happy to have won the bet that Soap indeed has superpowers.

The day Roach says, in a wondering voice, "I... I think I'm hungry" is the day they understand that something is really happening and he's actually coming back to life.

(Also, Soap has no control at all on his abilities, he has no idea what does what and why, he knows nothing. No one knows.)

[neverenoughmarauders]

Peter to the rescue

'We could fetch Madam Pomfrey if you like?' Remus asked.

James shook his head: 'just... one min,' he mumbled.

''course,' Sirius said, trying to project some confidence.

'Take all the time you need,' Remus agreed.

James made the tiniest of nods.

'What are you kids doing 'ere?' a nasty and thoroughly unwelcome voice asked.

Filch, leg finally healed, was walking down the corridor. 

'Shouldn't you be out wat-' 

Filch stopped, eyes widening in recognition. 

'You two!' he hissed dangerously at Sirius and James.

James' trembles doubled, and his body seemed to press harder against Sirius, as if he could disappear into his friend. There was no opportunity to speak, but James didn't need to tell him anything. For the first time Sirius had known him, James seemed scared of the caretaker. It made Sirius' blood boil. 

Sirius helped James up.

'Filch, please,' Remus pleaded, but to no avail. The caretaker looked ready to skin them alive.

'I-' James started, but he didn't get further. Instead sick spilled out of his mouth and onto the floor. 

Sirius felt slightly nauseated as well as the smell assaulted his nostrils, but he forced himself to focus on everything else that was happening. Filch roared angrily at the sick now covering the floor.

'Filth! Disease! Befoulment of the corridors!' 

Sirius felt James struggling to remain upright. He, Sirius, had had enough. 

'LEAVE US ALONE!' Sirius shouted. 

If he hadn't been the only thing between James and the floor, he would have let go of his friend to attack this foul creature. James would be fine as soon as they got to the Hospital Wing and here was this poor excuse of a man slowing them down.

'What's going on?' came the crisp voice of Madam Pomfrey, who was rushing towards them. Behind her followed the small figure of Peter, who must have slipped away to get help when Filch appeared. 

'James is unwell,' Remus said quickly. 'We were on our way to see you.'

'These students -' Filch started, but one look from Madam Pomfrey shut him up.

'Quidditch!' Madam Pomfrey huffed angrily as she took in the sorry sight of James in his scarlet robes. 'First Carrow, now you. Follow me, Potter.'

----

Extracts from Chapter 51

[pinkfadespirit]

Hey there and happy Friday! Would you fancy "You never should have left" for maybe (past?) Nanders? 👀

Thank you for the prompt! I started this one on the night I got it as a direct follow on from another prompt and now it's been a while and I can't remember how I intended to get from where I started to an actual answer to the prompt. (Though I think maybe the reason I stopped was because I didn't know then, either.)

I've got an idea for another prompt now, though, so I'm just going to post this one as it is, even though it's not technically finished.

For @dadrunkwriting

Nathaniel found somewhere private for them to talk, a quiet room where there was a fire going and reasonably comfortable chairs. He had the feeling this was going to take a while after all. He'd grabbed a bottle of wine on the way in, feeling certain he was going to need it for the conversation he was about to have.

The last time he'd seen Anders, he hadn't seemed like himself. He'd made jokes to ease the tension (and after running into so much trouble in the Deep Roads that the Champion of Kirkwall herself had needed to come to his rescue, there had definitely been a lot of tension) but there had been something off about it all the same. Now, Nathaniel was starting to think he understood what that might be. It wasn't just Justice, or this cause they'd taken upon themselves. It was how it weighed on them. Even then he'd known what he would have to do.

They'd parted without any real chance to catch up and Nathaniel had found himself wondering if he'd ever see him again.

He might not have, if not for the Commander. She was the one who insisted that he was still a Warden. The crimes of one's past were not important. He was one of them, still.

But Nathaniel wasn't sure Anders saw it that way.

Still, he'd allowed himself to be brought back here. Maybe they could figure out the rest.

They took their seats by the fire.  Nathaniel filled two goblets with the wine and pushed one across to Anders. He hesitated before picking it up, then cautiously took a sip.

"It's not the best, I know," Nathaniel said apologetically.

"Still, probably better than anything you'd get at the Hanged Man," Anders replied. "Not that I did much drinking there. Justice never approved. But... things haven't quite been the same since Kirkwall."

"Between you and Justice?"

Anders nodded. "He feels calmer somehow. Quieter."

"Is that... good? That he's quieter, I mean?"

"When all he could think about before was the suffering of the mages we hadn't yet managed to help, it's something of a relief. No matter what we accomplished, it always felt like we should be doing more. It was..."

"Unsustainable?"

"Probably, yes."

Nathaniel frowned. He hadn't thought about it like that. How it might be to combine a spirit's level of focus with the limits of a human mind. No wonder Anders looked so tired.

"It feels different now, though. Ever since we left. It makes me wonder if it was just Kirkwall. Sometimes it felt like... like the entire city was drenched in suffering. Endless. Inescapable. Like whatever remains of all the evil that was ever carried out there was crying out from the Fade. And Justice is much too well attuned to that sort of thing. I doubt it would ever let him rest. But now I couldn't go back if I wanted to."

"And now he's relieved?"

"Maybe."

"You don't know?"

"We don't really talk the way we used to. In a lot of ways, I miss him."

"So do I," murmured Nathaniel without thinking.

When Anders smirked at him a moment later, he looked almost like his old self.

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Obituary: The son who soared: Jeff Buckley

Date: June 6, 1997

From: The Guardian (London, England)

Publisher: Guardian News & Media

Document Type: Obituary

Byline: ADAM SWEETING

FEW ROCK business careers began more tantalisingly than that of Jeff Buckley, who has drowned in the Mississippi river, aged 30 (his body was found on Wednesday this week). In 1991, record producer Hal Willner, known for assembling imaginative, star-studded tributes to Charles Mingus and Kurt Weill, put together a tribute concert for Jeff's father, Tim Buckley, at St Ann's Church, Brooklyn, New York. Tim had died of a heroin overdose in 1975, aged 28, but his early death ignited a slow-burning musical legend. It was founded on his recorded legacy in which soul, blues and jazz influences mingled freely, the process stirred by his arrestingly elastic vocal style.

His son Jeff, born in California during Tim's brief marriage to Panama-born Mary Guibert, had always been ambivalent about his father. Tim left Mary when Jeff was six months old, and his son was brought up by his mother and stepfather during a peripatetic childhood. 'We moved so often I had to put all my stuff in paper bags,' Jeff recalled. 'My childhood was pretty much marijuana and rock 'n' roll.'His decision to participate in Willner's tribute event launched Buckley Junior as a new phenomenon on the New York music scene, and simultaneously affirmed his quasi-mythic credentials, particularly when he performed his father's song Once I Was. 'It bothered me that I hadn't been to his funeral, that I've never been able to tell him anything,' said Jeff. 'I used that show to pay my last respects.'

Thus launched in public, Buckley was rescued from a string of odd jobs by joining the avant-garde combo Gods & Monsters, which featured Pere Ubu's ex-bassist Tony Maimone and Captain Beefheart's erstwhile guitarist Gary Lucas. But it was more a loose group of individuals than a real band and Buckley quit in early 1992 to pursue a solo career.

He began performing at small Manhattan clubs, particularly the Cafe Sin-e, where record company executives and A&R men were soon arriving by the limo-full, waving chequebooks. 'I went into those cafes because I really felt I had to go to an impossibly intimate setting where there's no escape, where there's no hiding yourself,' he explained.

Buckley's remarkable voice (his most obvious inheritance from his father) and movie-star looks left nobody in doubt that he was a star in the making, though the eclecticism of his shows confused some listeners. Buckley would pluck songs out of the air as the mood took him. It might be something by Van Morrison, the Hollies or Big Star, or a tune made famous by Nina Simone or Mahalia Jackson.

With a hippie-esque suspicion of large corporations, he turned down several deals before signing with Columbia at the end of 1992, apparently because he knew and trusted the label's A&R man Steve Berkowitz. The company previewed their new acquisition with a live EP, Live At Sin-e, following which Buckley travelled upstate to Bearsville to start work on his debut album, Grace.

The disc was released in 1994 to instant critical adulation. The sleeve pictured Buckley clutching a microphone and looking poetically dishevelled, while the music inside was a cornucopia of rockers, ballads, hymns and even a bold rendition of Benjamin Britten's Corpus Christi Carol, by no means standard rock 'n' roll fare. His voice was wild, passionate and sensual. If his music was hard to describe in a soundbite, it was bursting with hidden depths and infinite potential. Grace won Buckley the Best New Artist award from Rolling Stone magazine in 1995.

Buckley's inquisitiveness and musical ambition earned him acceptance across a broad spectrum of fellow performers. Elvis Costello brought him over in 1995 to perform at London's Meltdown Festival, where he easily held his own among string quartets and jazz ensembles, and last year he featured on Patti Smith's comeback album, Gone Again. He was also a fan of Eastern music, particularly the Islamic devotional Qawwali songs of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

Buckley had been in Memphis since February, recording new material. He decided to go swimming in the Mississippi, fully clothed and carrying his guitar, but was apparently pulled under by the wash from a passing tug.

Jeff Buckley, rock singer, born August 1, 1966; died May 29, 1997

[ladylilithprime]

Day 24: Branded

(Set in the werewolf!Sam'verse. Immediate Part 2 follow-up to Day 23. Wincest and lemony goodness ahoy!)

THE SCENT OF lust was a familiar one in Sam Winchester's nose after better than six years as a werewolf spending a good portion of his time on a college campus or in bars. The last two years spent with him and Dean practically in each other's pockets again had especially accustomed him to the scent of Dean's lust, as differentiated from his normal baseline scent. He had noticed when it started cropping up even when Sam was the only one around, stronger when it was closer to the full moon and Sam ditched his clothes more often than not, could pick up the pattern of when Dean would be especially on the prowl for a hook-up as opposed to content with (or resigned to) using his own hand. Sam gave him credit, Dean never made him feel trapped or crowded beyond what the unavoidable close quarters did, and he even tolerated Sam being more tactile than usual after hunts. Welcomed it, really, even if he didn't initiate it himself.

Lust was only one of the many scents Sam had become familiar with from Dean over the last two years. Anger, fear, sorrow, giddy joy... He knew what it smelled like when Dean was injured, whether the bleeding was below the surface or escaping the skin, when he was strong and fresh and ready to fight, and when he was weak and shaking inside even when his hands were steady as a rock. There wasn't a single lie Dean could tell that Sam would believe even without his powers, so attuned was he to Dean's every fluctuating mood and thought.

There had been no faking the distress in Dean's scent when Sam had been captured by the Bender family for their own hunting sport, mercifully none the wiser to Sam's dual nature thanks to Jess's talisman, but damned if that hadn't taken a few years off both their lives that night.

So he had known long before Dean had been willing to admit it that his brother not just loved him but wanted him in a decidedly non-brotherly sense. Quite aside from the lack of distress or fear scents whenever he was around Sam's wolf form was the distinct increase in musk around Sam's human form, whether he was naked or not, even if Dean himself hadn't seemed to be aware of it at first. So Sam had effectively been given plenty of time to think about that and make his own peace with the fact that Dean desired him despite knowing he wasn't human, and come to the conclusion that if Dean ever decided he wanted to do something about that desire then Sam wouldn't turn him away.

He was surprised it took being kidnapped by demons and nearly dying in a ghost town before Dean had kissed him the first time, and an actual Angel showing up to rescue them from a dozen more demons for Dean to admit that it wasn't just the heat of the moment. That he wanted Sam, but didn't ever want to hurt him or force him into anything. And Sam had smelled the surprise from Dean when he'd said that he had already known and was just waiting for Dean to take the lead and tell him how far they could go, starting with safewords because the last thing Sam wanted was to push Dean too far and not realize it despite scent cues.

Sam breathed in deeply as he watched Dean crawl naked up onto the bed and flop down, rolling over to his back and tilting his chin up to expose his throat. Lust was definitely the dominant scent marker in the room, not that Sam would have doubted it with the way Dean's cock was jutting up proudly, flushed with blood and already beading precum at the tip. There had been an adrenaline spike when Sam's teeth had grazed his throat, but curiously no fear, and there had been a definite spike when Sam had spanked him for the lack of verbal safeword confirmation. That was something to consider exploring another time, especially with the way Dean seemed to fall so naturally into the submissive role in response to Sam, but not for their first time together. This time, he needed to be gentle.

The scent picked up even more strongly when Dean's eyes locked on his as Sam moved to join him on the bed, taking his cue from Dean and crawling up from the end of the bed until he was kneeling straddling his brother, their faces barely a centimeter apart. This close, he could see the way Dean's pupils expanded, swallowing the green, and feel the stutter of his brother's breath against his face. Arousal. Lust. Sam brushed the tips of their noses together teasingly, then lowered his lips to take Dean's in a firm but tender kiss.

He felt branded inside and out just from that contact alone.

Dean was full on trembling when he broke the kiss, muscles tense and straining with the effort to stay still. There was distress starting to leak into his scent that gave Sam pause, though still no actual fear. He dipped his head into the curve of Dean's neck to get a deep whiff of his brother's scent and blinked when Dean actually arched up into him. "De? Talk to me, man, what's going through your head?"

A heat flush of embarrassment preceded Dean's swallow, and Sam caught the clench and flex of his hands out of the corner of his eye. "....wanna touch you..."

"And?" Sam prompted when Dean hesitated.

"....don't wanna nut off early and disappont you..." Dean mumbled, barely above a whisper. It sent a surge of protective anger through Sam, the sudden sharp desire to hunt down and throttle every judgemental, self-centered idiot who had ever made his big brother feel shame. He wrestled it back down firmly - anger would not help anything - and pressed another kiss to Dean's lips in reward for his honestly.

"First off, you absolutely can touch me, as much as you want," Sam began, smiling softly when Dean flicked his eyes up to check that he meant it. "Seriously. The safewords go both ways, dude. If I don't want you doing something, I'll say so, just like I expect you to do if I do something you don't like, okay?

"As to the other," he added, shifting his weight enough to free a hand that he could press over Dean's chest, feeling the beat of that precious, precious heart beneath his palm. "Only way you're disappointing me is if you give up. You've never been a 'one and done' kinda guy that I know of, so...." He trailed his hand lower, tracing a feathery pattern across Dean's abs and feeling them clench at the ticklish sensation. "Way I see this going, if you do come quicker than expected, then I intend to work my way down your chest.... probably leaving a trail of hickeys since you seemed to like my teeth on you... and then lick up every drop of your come I can find before wrapping my lips around your dick and sucking you back to full hardness for round two."

"Oh go...dsss..." Dean gasped, hips flexing beneath Sam as his cock twitched hard.

"I said 'all night', big brother," Sam reminded him with just the barest hint of a feral edge to his grin. "I absolutely meant that. Still green?"

"Fuck yeah!"

[forgottenciara]

cillian: what did you want to tell me?

~ Flashback ~

While it had never been confirmed to her, she had begun to suspect that, perhaps, that the resistance numbers were far fewer than she had once imagined. And if this suspicion was correct, Cillian Frost would be the key to everything.

If she exposed him, the rest of them would fall.

Ronan would stop at nothing to ensure that his brother was rescued and Percy, Kale and Finn would both follow his plans without a second thought -- and there would be nothing that the more levelheaded females of the group would be able to say to make them reconsider. It was clear that they were all bound together by something stronger than their shared believes. They were a family and that meant that they'd risk everything -- including the greater good -- for the good of each other.

The moment was nearing now: Cillian was to come to the palace today. She'd told him that her cousin and his sons would be away from the castle on a hunt and therefore it would be safe to assume his Lord Ormond persona and gather any information he could by speaking with the courtiers.

That had all been a lie.

In fact her cousins were all set to meet her here shortly for tea this afternoon. With Arthur and Edmund who knew him as Cillian the servant and Cassandra who knew him as Cillian the lord, he would be held here under charges of fraud and then she could come forward as Godfrey's informant.

Ciara had sent the guards in the hall on an errand, so Cillian could sneak into her family's quarters in the castle unnoticed. He stood there now, dressed as Lord Ormond. Aside from his windblown hair, he certainly looked the part.

Once, she had aided him in his disguise. His intentions to become Lord Cillian Ormond had been noble ones and, even now, she had to commend him for the selfless act of bravery that he had performed to save the life of another. She never would have condemned him for that. It had been one of a hundred small moments that had started to revise her own opinions of all of them. And Ciara realized, not for the first time, that there was a small part of her that begged her not to do this.

But the crimes of the resistance had been many -- that was just as apparent. She knew that her own family would never be safe as long as they posed a threat to them. Had it not been clear that they meant to leave none of them alive? If she did nothing, would she be responsible for the death of her beloved cousins? Her father? And could they truly blame her for doing whatever it took to ensure their lives, when surely they would do the same for their own?

Ciara had told Percy to make certain that Cillian came to her immediately, before he did anything else. "I'm sorry I'm late," Cillian explained, "Valentina was in one of her moods and I -- I don't like to take the main road from Malconaire." The impatience in his voice was apparent. He wanted to make the most of the time he had left, "What is it you wanted to tell me?"

AI don't like to take the main road from Malconaire.

Ciara remembered the first time she'd seen it: the Pyre Walk was horrific even in the weeks following the burnings -- the half decayed; half scorched bodies that still remained hanging left behind as a warning. She hadn't known what had happened there, when they'd initially ridden past it, and had been told by one of her attendants that it was surely part of some barbaric Astairan tradition: they worshiped demons here, after all.

It wasn't until later that she had heard the truth of it: how her cousin had rounded up anyone who had ever been suspected to be a witch and had them burned. None of them had had a trial; none of them had had any real proof laid against them and all of them had died.

Cillian was looking at her, expectedly. Ciara still had not given him an answer. "Are you alright?"

She had been so close to exposing him, but it was those memories that changed her mind. Whatever happened -- whoever became ruler of Astaira next -- it was suddenly very clear to her that it could not remain in the hands of Roderick. Whatever the consequences of her actions, she did not want to see the horrors of the Pyre Walk repeated.

So Cillian must live to see another day.

"I -- I don't think you should do this, Cillian. It's too dangerous today. I'm sorry, but -- you must leave. Now." How long did they have? Since he had arrived late, she suspected that they had mere moments to spare. "Here -- " She practically shoved him through the door, "down through the servant's entrance. No should see you."

Before Cillian could protest, there was a knock at the door.

Cillian didn't move.

"Cillian, you can't be here -- "

"I don't think I've ever told you before but ... thank you. For everything."

"This is hardly the time -- "

"I know but ... this can't be easy. So, thank you. From all of us."

Cillian had never said anything like that to her, before. She could tell that he had never truly trusted her -- even if her assistance with his Lord Ormond disguise had softened him, somewhat. For a moment, she wondered if he had somehow known that she had changed her mind: that she had just then decided to save him.

Another knock upon the door, "Cillian if you don't leave now, I -- "

"Where's the fun if we don't press our luck a little?" But he held up his hands in defeat as he said it and stepped back into the passage. Ciara slammed the door behind him, just as the door opened and her royal cousins were announced.

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello, Love!

I don’t know if you are familiar with that but you know these days when you have such high anxiety and doubt about yourself? And that one friend who is your little light at the end of the tunnel?

How about Thena has this moment and Gil is there to hear her out and helps her calming down?

Would love to see some comfort moment between them!

Choose the AU.

"Boss?"

Thena winced as the knock and gentle voice came. She should have known he was still here, and she should have really guessed that he would just be able to sense that he should come to her office.

Gilgamesh had a bizarre sixth sense for when she was feeling less than her best.

He hadn't been in her unit long. Hell, the unit hadn't existed long, by this time. But every time she seemed to hit a wall with the brass, or they came back from a mission she was less than happy with, he seemed to know.

He would kind of drag his feet in leaving, hang around a little later than necessary. And then he would inevitably end up at her office door like this, asking to come in with such a soft tone.

How was she supposed to say no?

"Come in, Gilgamesh," she sighed, standing above her desk, staring down at the files she had been slapping around for the sake of her frustrations.

He poked his head in so timidly for a man of his stature. His shoulders followed as he slipped in unassumingly. "It's kinda late, isn't it?"

"I could say the same to you," she raised her brows at him, tipping her head to the side faintly. He didn't back down, though. Gilgamesh was frustratingly unintimidated by her. "It's a bad look for the team to be here later than the boss."

"Sorry," he smiled faintly, gripping the strap of his bag over his - truly massive - shoulder. "But, I mean...the question still stands, doesn't it?"

Damn this man and his emotional perception. She had no idea how he wasn't in the interrogation or psych branches. But she had to count herself lucky for that.

He looked around her office, which he had been in a handful of times before. As her chosen second in command, he had been in it more than anyone else, even the runner up being Kingo. "That's a lot of files."

Right, her migraine. She looked behind her and around the room, files simply stacked as tall as they could go without falling over. "Yes."

He chuckled faintly. He was also the only one not afraid to laugh in her presence, which she both respected and resented about him. He really seemed to see her as just some person--a real human, instead of the Goddess of War. "Seems like a lot to put on your plate."

"Well, that is what happens when you start your own division team," Thena sighed. She knew this came with the territory, perhaps she didn't think that it wouldn't be quite this...heavy.

"Is it just standard paperwork?" Gil shrugged, drifting closer to a file withing his reach. He kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to hiss at him or something. He picked it up, "reports and personnel files?"

"It is," she admitted, and didn't even want to do that much. But he was already reading the damn thing. "Paperwork for me to file, things that had to be filed before I was even the team leader, things for me to file now that I am. It's about six months worth of paperwork that has to be done within two weeks."

"That hardly seems fair," he frowned, setting the file down again.

"And does the agency prioritise fairness?" she eyed him. "Mister-Suspended-For-Rescuing-A-Cat?"

He chuckled, and his smile was so infectious and welcoming. It was hard not to smile when he smiled at her. "Okay, you got me there."

Thena looked back down at her desk. "Don't mind me. It's just some dirty work that has to get done. I knew it would come with the territory when I applied to have the Special Ops team designated anyway."

"Did you know you would be taking it on yourself though?" he frowned, even stepping closer to her desk and the chair that was across from hers.

"Yes," she sufficed to say. Didn't she do everything alone?

"That doesn't seem like the purpose of a team."

She frowned up at him as he swung his bag down to the floor to lean against her desk, seating himself as if he were just so at home in her office. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I guess the other guys don't have the clearance for all this," he shrugged as he picked up another folder of papers waiting to be signed and reports waiting to be reported.

"Gilgamesh," she said sharply, but her usually razor sharp tongue really just bounced right off this guy. Her crossed arms tightened and her frown deepened, "Gilgamesh!"

"I'm not saying it'll be fast, but doubling one is still twice as fast, right?" he went on, even picking up a pen - her pen! - to scribble his name on the papers. "Y'know, Kingo's really good at forging handwriting. If you have stuff you know only needs your name, I bet he could help-"

"Gil!" she barked, and finally, he looked up at her. She leaned over her desk, assuming the posture that usually worked to help her assert a certain predatory stance. He didn't even blink. "Go home."

He didn't even humour her, just looked back down at the paper.

"Gilgamesh, that is an order."

"It's almost midnight."

What? No, it wasn't. Thena looked over her shoulder at the clock above her desk. Fuck, it really was getting past 11:45; she hadn't even realised. She looked at him again, scribbling away, "all the more reason for you to leave."

"Not unless you're leaving with me," he looked up at her, "ma'am."

Her eye twitched; she needed sleep. She pulled out her chair roughly, "I could write you up for insubordination."

"And do even more paperwork?--I wouldn't," he snorted.

Fuck, he was right. Thena grabbed another pen for herself and aggressively swiped her signature over another paper. She glared at him, "you don't have to do this."

"I know," he admitted immediately, under no delusion that he would be rewarded for his disobedience. "Just doesn't seem right to bury you under all this. You can tell everyone you did it all yourself, if it's for your reputation. But I can't let you take this on alone."

He had such a tender heart. It was part of why she picked him, sure, but she didn't think she would ever have to be on the receiving end of such...tenderness.

He looked up at her, catching her glowering at him, and smiled.

Thena looked down at her paper, slashing through it with another signature. Her heart did a somersault in her chest. Perhaps she was more fatigued than she had initially thought. "Did you at least eat something?"

"I did," he volunteered between papers, "I'm sure you didn't."

That wasn't any of his business. "If I didn't?"

"Well, if you didn't," he shrugged, looking down at the done stack of papers to his left, "I would say I have some leftover lunch in my bag. But I'm sure my team leader is responsible enough not to starve herself while she's-"

"Okay, enough, just give it to me," she growled at him. And again, her snarling did nothing but encourage him. He bent down with a grin and handed over a perfectly wrapped riceball. "Please don't tell me you hung around here this late just to catch me doing paperwork."

"No, of course not."

Right. No, of course not, that would be ridiculous. She chewed her bite before asking, "so...what then?--why are you here?"

He smiled at her again, even more gently than last time (and yet the affect on her accursed heart was just as bad). "I was looking out for a friend."

Thena looked down at the rice ball. It had been in the fridge all day, but pulled out long ago enough that the rice wasn't hard. It was delicious, actually. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a friend.

She'd had teammates in her days in the academy. They had hated her. Trusted her, maybe, feared her, absolutely, but they certainly didn't like her. Even last she worked with Minerva, she wouldn't have called them friends (no matter what Minerva had to say about that).

She smiled; maybe having a friend wouldn't be so bad.

[theuntoldoriginsoftheportmafia]

Part Ⅳ The Port Mafia - Chapter 5.4

⛼ The New and the Old ⛼

12,308

~ 3 years later ~

It's been a few months since the event now known as the Dragon's Head Conflict rocked the city of Yokohama. Nobody in the Port Mafia knows what triggered it or what the hell exactly it was but they're all keeping their guard up to make sure it won't happen again. For now, though, they're just glad it's over and who isn't?

A private funeral was held for their first executive, Colonel. Fukuzawa convinced his partner to allow a month of mourning for those who wished for it. The only one to partake was Ozaki-san who became close to the ex-soldier.

Mori, acutely aware of the importance of never letting an organisation grow stagnant, uses the time to assess candidates for the now-empty executive seat. The choice is obvious. Dazai Osamu, already a sub-executive, will become the next executive.

The now 16-year-old Dazai knows he'll get the job and is more preoccupied with helping Oda-san set up a safe place for the five orphans he rescued during the conflict. 

"I can't care for them, it's not realistic, and I know it. I'm thinking of putting them in an orphanage."

"An orphanage, most of the ones in Yokohama have been long abandoned, turned into criminal liars. Are you going to send them out of the city?"

"Wouldn't that be safer?" Oda-san frowns as he says this.

Dazai hates seeing his friend upset. "Yes, it would. But I can tell you care about these children, don't just dump them because you're afraid you won't be able to help them enough, trust me Odasaku, you can do it. You're a much better person than I am! You should try to track down any surviving family members, surely all of their entire families can't have been wiped out."

The closest orphanage is two cities away, and they have enough problems to deal with without five new children. One of their 12-year-old wards, a boy by the name of Nakajima Atsushi, just killed someone using an ability they hadn't even known he possessed. Atsushi is an ability user, with the ability to turn into a rare white tiger. The trouble is that they don't know exactly what triggers it. It seems to be correlated to the moon somehow but they're far from having him under control.

Everyone in the orphanage knows it, and everyone has an opinion about him ranging from fear for him to fear of him, and even disgust, only Atsushi himself, who has no memory of the incident involving a certain white-haired "scientist", remains in the dark about his dangerous aberration.

The orphanage director drags the body away, placing it so deep beneath where they plan to pour the concrete slab for the new wing that no one will ever find it. Unfortunately, he misses the man's ability separating from his body. An almost draconian-looking crystal rising up and taking the form of a thoroughly confused human. A perfect replica of the dead scientist.

Still, it wasn't a job badly done, no one will know, even the man himself has no idea he died. His new form doesn't bear the claw marks that ended his life.

While the claw marks meant death to the white-haired man they are a mark of the love the young tiger's parents have for him. Two young lovers, only recently married at one of those shady drive-through marriage places that any person with standards would hesitate to speak of.

— 12 Years Ago —

The newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Nakajima were involved in things which were, to put it lightly, unsavoury. When the time came they ran away from the big city to start their family they thought that they had escaped but the darkness followed them like an invisible plague, always right directly behind them so they could not see it even when they turned around.

Soon enough though, the plague made itself apparent, shortly after the birth of their first child, a son. They smiled over the beauty, the pure innocent small human child that they had created, praying for him to have a life better than theirs.

When the first bounty hunters came, sent by their previous employer, a cruel Russian, they were able to run, but they knew it was only a matter of time until evil eventually caught up with them.

"We're running out of time, it's best to let him go now, before he becomes attached, before he can be saddened by the memories of our faces, the less he knows, the better." Mrs. Nakajima whispered to her husband. She used her enhanced hearing to listen for anyone approaching their hideout in the attic of the bookshop where its owner, a kind middle-aged man with a cane, had agreed to hide them.

Both parents looked wistfully at their young son as he poked at the calico cat who also inhabited their hideout. It meowed happily, curling around the infant, knocking him over gently. The boy giggled in the kind of way only someone blissfully unaware of the world can.

"Yes, but we can't simply leave him in the streets. If he's found they might kill him anyway." Mr. Nakajima said, not any less tense than his wife. He squats, ready to spring up at a moment's notice and teleport his family safely away. But his energy was drained and he wasn't sure how much he had left in him.

"I know. We must leave him somewhere no one will ever think to look. . . ." tears welled in her eyes making them appear a sparkling golden colour, "I know a place."

-

Two days later they arrived at the decrepit building. 

"Is this really it?" Mr. Nakajima asked, eyeing his wife nervously, his purple eyes uncertain.

She nodded, "Yes. My brother works here. He is not kind, but he is loyal. He will keep our baby safe. I know it isn't much and our son will probably have to endure hardship but if it means he can live on in peace, then this is what we must do."

They knocked on the imposing metal door and a surly-looking man stepped out, Mrs. Nakajima's brother.

"Hello, brother." Mrs. Nakajima said, looking down at her worn shoes in shame. Her brother was always the better one, always with the better grades and multiple talents and now he's even offered his charity by working with orphaned children.

"Hello, sister. What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?" His voice carried unmistakable disdain.

"M-my son!" The tears dripped down her face like a monsoon, as she presented him with the swaddled infant. "You have to take him. You have to keep him safe."

"I do not have to do anything." He said sternly, "You and this fool you've made your husband, made your own bed, now lie in it!"

"I know, believe me, I do! And we will, but please, please, please, Atsushi is pure and good. Not like us! He doesn't deserve our fate! Take him, please! Keep him and protect him . . . from us! Don't tell him about us at all if you like. Don't even let him ask if you like . . . but please! "

The boy's uncle looked down on him with contempt . . . and then as the moon passed high overhead, he saw something. Not one more mouth to feed. Not one more body to clothe. Not one more room to clean. He saw a boy, with big brown eyes and fluffy silver hair. He saw a child. A child as pure and good as he once was.

"Hmph. He will know nothing of you or your freakish "abilities", do you understand?"

"Y-yes. Thank you, thank you, than–"

He struck her. She fell. Mr Nakajima barely caught their son in time to prevent his death from colliding with the hard concrete steps.

"I will return in a moment. Feel free to change your minds before I come back."

And as he disappeared they sat there under the bright moonlight. Mrs Nakajima could feel her ability stirring within her.

She looked at her husband. "We cannot leave him with nothing." she looked to her son, meeting his wide gaze, "We won't leave you all on your own."

She wasn't exactly sure how to do it, she'd never been taught, few people had, but willpower is a powerful thing, second only to parental love. So then she began relaxing muscle after muscle. Letting herself go, feeling the thrum of her ability flowing through her and willing it to flow right into her son. He started to cry at the influx of power and his father stroked his hair, which was turning whiter by the second, looking more and more like his mother's.

With all her remaining strength given to her son, she laid down beside him, her hair and eyes now a common brown. She cried. "My son. My precious son. My darling baby . . . Atsushi. I have given you the only thing left I have to give you. Her name is Byakko, please treat her well."

"Okie, Daddy's turn." Mr. Nakajima cooed, picking his dazed son up and holding him close. The boy's eyes were now a curious shade of dark blue.

He imagined one of his space-time portals opening up inside his son and sucking his ability into it, filling the young boy. And so it does, and both parents watched their boy's irises change, splitting from one colour into two, half purple and half golden, a perfect split of his mother and father.

"He's perfect." Mrs. Nakajima sings.

Both parents closed their eyes, saying a prayer for their beloved creation.

"Goodbye Atsu-chan. We will always love you, but please don't remember us."

With the courage given to them by the sight of their now well prepared son, they fled into the night.

— Mori's Office - Present Day —

The number of executives has increased by one, with the edition of the Demon Prodigy (strategy, torture) who unlike Ozaki Kouyou, The Clairvoyant and the Angel of Death works in the field with his partner Nakahara Chuuya, a man older by a mere six months, and almost dog-like in his loyalty.

-

The sky has settled nicely into a dusky sort of blue by the time their last match ends. Ranpo had originally been bored with the strategy game but over time he came to enjoy his mini-tournaments with Dazai, the only person to truly rival Ranpo's gargantuan intellect.

"Checkmate, again~" Dazai sing-songs. Ranpo groans for effect but is hardly bothered. He knows where his strengths lie and while his logical reasoning is impeccable he's no match for Dazai's almost physic gift for predicting his moves.

"Yay, you should do championships like the ones on the telly. They give lots of prize money!" a small voice pipes up. Elise strolls in carrying a tray of cookies, a young tuxedo-haired child trailing behind her. The child holds a ratty doll that looks like a prop from the next hit horror film. Neither of them is fully aware of what kind of work the mafia does and what kind of salary it brings in.

"Mmm," Dazai pretends to consider it, taking a single cookie from the tray. He knows that while the tray was presented to the both of them, they're really meant for Ranpo. "too much work!"

"With an attitude like that, you'll never be the next leader of the Port Mafia." a jovial voice joins the conversation from across the room.

"Who said anything about that?"

"Wasn't it implied? When Yuki and I retire, a brilliant mind and resilient body like yours will be perfect for carrying on our great legacy."

"What great legacy? We're criminals, just like any others." Dazai doesn't believe this but he enjoys getting under the boss's skin more than anything else. 

Mori sighs, he knows he can't win against a petulant genius child, he learnt that with Ranpo and his wishes for sweets and now again with this infinitely more murderous, depressed shell of a boy. "That may be true." he concedes, "but even if a petty gang is all we are, you'll make the perfect leader for us."

"Well, I don't want to be the next leader of the Port Mafia, so that's too bad. Get Yosano-kun to do it or something."

Mori moves on to the next tactic, pouting, "Aww, but you and Chuuya-kun as double black are the legacy, the next generation of great fighters and strategists."

"Nakahara, a strategist? Pfft! Oh, please!" Ranpo huffs so quietly only Dazai hears it. The bandaged boy chuckles a little, both at the comment and Mori's ridiculousness.

"You're talking as if you're already dead, wouldn't it be wonderful if that was true!" Dazai sighs happily, closing his eyes as if to imagine this blissful scene, brushing his arm lazily over the board knocking the pieces askew until black and white are mixed together. When he opens his brown eyes they're dull again, no trace of his humour from only seconds ago. Satisfied with his work he tips the board so the pisces clatter into the velvet bag, then leans as far back as he can over the side of the armchair until his hair bushes the carpet floor.

"Besides, I'm not anything with Nakahara, and I never will be. The very idea of working with him . . ." he sits up again dramatically and begins to walk from the room, "sickens me."

Without a goodbye, he's gone.

'What a load! Those two are insufferable, and yet they constantly make everyone else suffer them. He's a good liar though, I'll admit that. He has almost everyone fooled. But still, there's subtle and there's too subtle. There's playing hard to get and then there's giving absolutely no indication that you even notice the person you like. Nakahara has no idea how downbad Dazai is for him. Maybe I should tell him? I bet Dazai would be sooo appreciative of me doing that. Hah. Jeez, what a mess.'

When the doors close, Mori asks, "Where is he going, Ranpo?"

"To bar Lupin, to drink with Oda-san and Sakaguchi-san." Ranpo tells him.

Mori nods, giving a gentle "hmm". "He never has cared about rank much, has he? Have you seen Akiko today? I need her to review this file from the medical examiner's office, maybe even take a look at the actual body. I need to know if this was one of our people's doing. But I suppose you could just do it."

"Our people? A goon gone rouge?"

"Perhaps, I need to check what type of bullet was used."

"Kay, send the file to my office. I saw Akiko this morning, she was headed downstairs. To subfloor 3." 

Ranpo knows he doesn't have to elaborate.

"Ah, Motojirou-san." Mori chuckles.

"You shouldn't say anything. It's way funnier to watch them try to sneak around. And he doesn't even know why they're sneaking. It's better than any drama." Ranpo giggles taking a large bite out of the still warm cookies.

"Mm, these are delicious 'Lise-chan!" he calls to the girl on the other side of the room, colouring.

"Of course they are." She calls back, sounding mischievous as if she's drawing one of her suspiciously violent drawings.

Mori smiles at his daughter then looks back to Ranpo, his smile shifting into a serious look. 

"I agree, but they've been doing this for nearly two years, and I'm still not sure I appreciate their age gap. Akiko is as much a daughter to me as Elise or any other biological child would be and as a parent I look out for her. I worry that Motojirou-san may simply be playing with her. I don't doubt that there is some affection, Akiko is not desperate or easily led on, but I would hate for her to be left heartbroken when he finishes with her."

"Yeah, that's true. What does Fukuzawa think?"

Mori's face is thoughtful. He's a man who, despite his own successful love, is sceptical of romance. "He agreed, but also warned me to respect her autonomy. After all, Akiko is an adult now, so perhaps they both prefer things to be casual, but if that isn't the case and he is messing with her I will slit his throat myself."

Ranpo puts down his cookie. "And if they're both serious about it?" He's not one to get involved in the emotions of others but he can't help but be invested in that happiness of the woman he considered to be an older sister.

"I must say I've been trying not to consider that. 19 is far too young to be married, she should wait until at least 24."

"Why 24?" Ranpo asks, taking another bite of cookie.

"I'm not really sure, it just seems like a good age. And it's a few years after one normally finishes university. You need time to settle into life as an adult, to get a stable job and a nice place to live and a community."

Ranpo giggles. "That's very wise of you, but by that logic she could be married right now. She's more mature than some adults I know. She's mentally 21 at the very least. She has a good, well-paying job and her own flat and friends. And Motojirou-san."

Mori frowns at the mention of the scientist's name. "She is still 19, still a teenager. Teenhood is a time of change for both the mind and the heart. She may be at it's end but she's still young. I'll let her have her fun, it's not my right to be strict anymore, but nobody should marry so young before they've experienced all the world has to offer—"

"And you think she could do better." Ranpo cuts him off with the real reason. "You think Motojirou is a maniac, a weirdo and too unstable. And I agree he isn't exactly the kind of guy who screams "husband material" but, look at where we are. All of her friends and family are at least somewhat odd, this is normal to her."

"Exactly. She should be somewhere else, in university becoming a doctor. When I met her she feared becoming a monster and I'm afraid that one day she'll look back on all of this and in the mirror and that's what she'll see. A monster, and she'll regret it, and hate me for it."

The fading light makes it much easier for Mori to admit his deepest fears about his daughter.

Ranpo nods, skirting around the emotional aspect, "So you think Motojirou-san is tying her down. Well. Maybe she wants to stay. Ever thought about that?"

"She's a teenager, she can't know what she wants. And even if this is what she wants right now, if he is what she wants right now, what about tomorrow and the day after that? And the next year? I don't want her to be so deep in that she can't leave when she realises she made a mistake. I don't want to be the one to doom her."

"You aren't dooming her. And she's not making a mistake. She belongs here, you, as her father, should be able to see that. You already gave her a chance to take a different path, yet she chose to join. This is what she wants. I can tell."

"Maybe, or maybe she just thinks she wants it because it's what Yuki and I do."

"No, you're wrong. You wanna know how I can tell?" he doesn't wait for an answer, "Not once have you seen her bowing down or grovelling to either of you for acknowledgement. And she's never not once expressed resentment for her job. She's not doing this to earn your approval because she knows she already has it, no matter what she does. She knows you'd be just as happy with her as a public doctor, if not happier and she chooses to do this anyway. This IS her going her own way. Her job is an outlet for her and a way for her to have freedom from her past, and meet new people, yes that includes Motojirou-san. She doesn't hang around you all the time, most of the time she's with me, or Koyou-san or Motojirou-san or that Nakahara kid. So no, she's not only doing this because she wants to impress you or whatever or because she feels she has no choice because of her ability. I don't even need Ultra Deduction to see that." He taps his left cheek, under his eye to emphasise the absence of the monocle he uses to activate his truth seeing ability.

Mori stays there, standing in frozen silence for a few minutes while Ranpo polishes off the tray of cookies.

"Thank you, Ranpo-chan. I have one small favour to ask of you."

"Yeah, I was waiting for you to ask."

"Oh, you're going to make me say it aren't you. Tch. Stubborn child."

"I'm waiting~"

Mori crumples to the floor comically, "Ahh, your sooo mean to me."

Ranpo taps an invisible watch on his wrist, "Still waiting! I don't have all night."

Mori straightens himself out, exhaling. Ranpo can see the amusement behind the gesture, "Fine. Would you kindly use Ultra Deduction to figure out Motojirou-san's intentions with my daughter."

Ranpo laughs loudly at how forced his second father figure sounds. "You want me to spy on them to see how serious Motojirou-san is?"

"Yes. Have a mission report on my desk by the end of the week."

"Incredible! I'm totally telling Dazai about this, and Akiko after."

"Don't. You. . . . dare" Mori sighs as Ranpo skips out the door and out of hearing range.

-

A phone pings, the sharp clear sound contrasting with the low din of the bar. Dazai stops messing with his ice cube to check his mobile.

He snorts when he sees the text from Ranpo.

D: [But he joked about them getting together as soon as they met. Why is he surprised?]

R:{idk but its funny.}

D:[Are you going to do it?]

R:{duh it's free entertainment and if im caught i can blame morisan}

D:[True. What if they start doing it, like right in the lab.]

R:{then ill leave! obviously, u perv! also im pretty sure thats terrible lab safety etiquette and violates at least three laws not that we care much about laws but you know . . .}

D:[ Well then, I'll leave you to it. Enjoy the show.]

R:{theres not gonna be any "show" PERV!}

D:[Oh, there will be. And even if there isn't, tell me everything.]

R:{Why are you so curious? (like i dont already know)}

D:[You know me, always digging for black mail. LOL😜]

R:{yeah right well its not like i don't have a ton of stuff on you so . . .}

D:[Yeah, yeah. I know. I'll watch my back. But I don't have anything good on Yosano yet (besides her thing with Motojirou) so I neeeed something.]

R:{y dont u just make smth up like u usually do}

D:[Because then she would kill me.]

R:{shes prob gonna kill u anyways}

D:[True.]

D:[Come to think of it . . . I don't have anything on you either . . . 😏You had better watch your back.]

R:{as if! u will never discover my secrets . . . cuz i dont have any u already know my parents died and im an exec in the pm so im an open book}

D:[I don't believe that for a moment.]

R:{whatever}

Ranpo puts down his phone, sighing and sinking down on the couch he has in his office. Lenore flaps her wings in question. It's the truth. As suspicious as it sounds for someone twenty years of age, he doesn't have any secrets. Or at least not any Dazai is unaware of. Surely someone as smart as Dazai knows he's being honest. (Well, Ranpo does have one secret, if it even counts as one. His brief correspondence with Poe-san but that is hardly juicy gossip and hardly relevant anymore.)

The executive sighs as he thinks of Poe-san. He would have invited the author to the mafia but he ran away before Ranpo got the chance.

Thinking of people joining the mafia brings him back to Dazai. While he's seen the way the bandaged fool pines for Nakahara, he can't seem to break down his walls and find out anything else. One thing he does know is that Oda Sakunosuke was Dazai's bisexual awakening and Ranpo is never, ever going to let him live that down.

A few minutes later Dazai texts him an image of himself smirking, with a confused looking Oda and a nervous Sakaguchi in the background. Dazai's cheeks are flushed from his drink but his eyes are sharp and clear, his goofy expression not hiding his severity. For someone so young his alcohol tolerance is incredibly high.

Ranpo considers the red head man behind Dazai for a minute. Unlike Nakahara, whose hair resembles a flame, or Kouyou whose hair is the shade of sunset in the countryside, Oda-san's hair is a true, deep red. It compliments his dark blue eyes and tanned skin well.

Ranpo, despite his much higher rank, respects Oda-san. Or rather, he did, until the man decided to stop killing. Ranpo doesn't get it. He was amazing at killing. Why wouldn't he want to do the thing he was amazing at? Doesn't it bring him satisfaction every time he makes a perfect kill? Ranpo thinks he's quite a fool to have given that up, and to have taken on those orphans. Even being an orphan himself, Ranpo lacks sympathy for the children he doesn't know. 

'Why ' he wonders, 'can't they be put in an orphanage and leave this dark city so we can all forget about them. It would be better for everyone if they were gone, if he truly cares for them he should know that they can't have a good life here. What the hell is he trying to do? Scar them further?'

Ranpo's eyes are drawn once again to Dazai's bandages. Even he doesn't know what kind of scars are underneath. Only Mori has seen them, and given his close, if slightly toxic, relationship with Dazai, he'd never tell. The executive looks back to Oda-san and then to the man behind him.

'I have no idea why he likes Sakaguchi so much. It's dangerous for him to associate with a spy and he's just a boring workaholic anyway. I have no idea what Oda-san sees in him. He'll either leave or Mori-san will kill him, either way, Sakaguchi will only break his heart.'

After a long moment, Ranpo puts down his phone, considering the sunset.

"Evening already? Ah, well, spying can wait till tomorrow."

'It's different on the street, with all the buildings in the way, but from up here? Up here . . . it really does look like Kouyou's hair.'

-

(A/N: I have only read 15 and Untold Origins Light Novel and I've never watched season 2 with the dark era flashback (I did watch the Danny Motta reactions so I ahve seen some clips but idk if that counts lol) so I'm just making shit up as I go based on what little I know about Dark Era so, this is probably inaccurate as hell but idk, here you go.)

It's past midnight when the Dazai, Oda, and Sakaguchi-san leave the bar, Dazai waiving the polaroid he took of the three of them giddily.

'Ah! That sound. I wish he'd stop that. But who am I to put a damper on one of the few non-violent, legal things he finds fun?' Sakaguchi-san shakes his head silently. Then looks at the redhead beside him. 'Hmm, It isn't wise to let my affection grow any further, not when I'm so close to the end of my mission, besides it is unlikely that he favours men anyhow. Yet still I . . .'

"Yah, Ango, Odasaku! I'll be going now. See you."

The spy jumps at the bandaged boy's words. They're sudden and loud, too loud for the dark street they're on. It's a violent end to his daydreams. Despite his announcement, Dazai keeps on walking with them.

A minute later, as they make their way through the park, Dazai stops, turning to face his companions.

"Ah, here we go! I'm gonna take this shortcut." he declares cheerfully, indicating the woods beside them, usually dense for a city park because they lead off into a separate area for urban trail hiking. In daylight it looks charming but in nightfall it takes on an ominous look, still Dazai is confident about his path.

"Through the woods?" Oda raises an eyebrow, a little worried for the scrawny boy.

"Is that safe?" Sakaguchi-san asks. He's unsure of nature even on clear sunny days and he certainly doesn't like it now.

"Yes, it's as good a path as any." 

"But-" Sakaguchi-san is cut off when Oda pulls him closer, whispering, "Let him go, Ango-kun. He knows what he's doing." 

After that he can say no more. They two older men watch Dazai trot off in silence.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Oda asks, unsure now that Dazai has disappeared into the trees.

"Yeah. Yeah, he'll be fine." Sakaguchi-san assures him, acutely aware of how close the younger male is.

"Yeah." Oda seems to realise their closeness as well, because he moves away, looking, perhaps a bit embarrassed, and starts walking again, his pace is quick and tense. Sakaguchi-san lets himself fall behind.

'I don't belong here. Why do I care if that kid gets lost? I need to finish the mission and be done with this. Taneda-san will be waiting for my report tomorrow and I haven't even started. This is so unlike me! I can't allow myself to be influenced. All of this means nothing . . . or at least it shouldn't. But real life is often different from mission briefings and predictive analysis. And as for Odasaku-san? Nothing. He's absolutely nothing. He can't be anything that would be disastrous. What do I see in him anyway? He's handsome. But he's a mafioso. But he doesn't kill, and he is very handsome. It doesn't matter. He took in those orphans. And his eyes have this spark– AH SHUT UP! He. Works. For. Killers! He wants to be an author. NO–'

"Ango?" Oda asks, concern evident in his voice. He's stopped, facing the man in question from a few metres ahead.

Sakaguchi-san blinks, having almost forgotten where he is. "Huh, what?"

"Are you alright?"

" . . . Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" he feigns ignorance, shrugging with more emphasis than necessary.

"Because you were about to run into that lamp post." There's a charming humour in Oda's voice, and the hint of worry in his blue eyes is endearing, almost puppy-like.

Sakaguchi blinks again, now aware of the lamp post rising out of the ground barely half a metre in front of him. He can't deny it.

'Should I have not said anything? He is my superior afterall, and that was quite embarrassing. But I couldn't let him hurt himself . . . I hope I didn't come off as rude. But he's so spacey today, I wonder what's up. Something is definitely wrong, I know that much.' Oda waits patiently for an answer, forcing himself not to overthink the situation.

"Ah, I was . . . thinking of an assignment I'm behind on."

"You behind on something?" Oda raises a brow, amused, using the amusement to mask his worry.

At this, Sakaguchi has to laugh, "Yes, I know. It's odd. But Dazai-kun was bothering me earlier so I didn't have time to finish as much as I wanted to." He hopes Dazai will cover the lie, but he knows it's a risky bet. If Dazai has any reason to ask questions he'll surely ferret out the truth in no time at all.

"I see. I'd offer to talk to him about that, but I don't really have any control over him so . . . uh, yeah. Let's just go back, yeah?"

"Yeah." Sakaguchi smiles as he catches up with Oda. He shouldn't be smiling, shouldn't be letting himself fall. And he knows this. But at the moment? Well, he can't seem to help it.

-

Meanwhile, back in the woods Dazai is on the hunt. 

Recently he heard of several incidents involving these woods. Such mysterious incidents that even the local police have taken an interest in. Daytime hikers report smoke rising from the trails but no evidence of fires has been found. This combined with hikers becoming frightened after finding the skins and bones of dead animals, all small such as squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits. And several dogs have become sick after attempting to ingest the remains.

'A good reminder to us all that dogs, while domesticated, are still very much predators.' Dazai thinks as he proceeds through the woods, kicking carcasses with his feet as he goes.

He knows what, or more like who, is doing this. Others thought it might be an ability user with a death ability but they're wrong. Death abilities are always either clean (like the ability of a certain Russian, Dazai had the misfortune of running into in his wanderings before Mori found him.) or completely obliterate the victim, splattering pieces everywhere. This is neither of those.

Still, it is definitely an ability, a violent one. Nothing human could do something like this. This is an ability alright, but not one meant to kill neatly. No, this thing tears and rips with the intensity and hunger of a starved child. So that's just what Dazai is searching for.

It isn't long before he hears rustling, and perches himself on the stump of a recently felled tree, knowing that soon enough the culprit will emerge.

Squirrels, you see, can be eaten. But they're small creatures whose meat is tough and lean, so in order to feel full you'd need to eat at least two.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you. And I can hardly judge you for eating squirrels, as I have ingested many questionable things myself. So come on now, I have as much time as I need to wait here, but I really do hate boredom so if you don't hurry up I might just decide to come and drag you out myself. Whatever ability you may or may not possess is irrelevant, as you will soon see if you don't reveal yourself."

A minute later a boy appears, peeking his head up over the brush. His hair is jet black with the exception of the front pieces which are a startling white, almost appearing to glow in the night. His eyes are empty and ravenous, a look Dazai knows all too well. The boy looks to be around the age one attends their second year of junior high.

"What is your name, child?" Dazai asks, placing a bento into the clearing between them. It's full of some snacks pilfered from Ranpo's stash and Oda's famous curry rice.

At first the boy keeps his eyes firmly on Dazai, determined not to be baited into a trap like the common creatures he's been killing. His pride would never have him asking alms from some stranger who as a certain "chibi" would say 'looks like he stepped out of the Egyptian wing of a museum.'

But he is so hungry that even the mention of food makes his stomach tremble with hollow aching. His eyes dart so quickly to the bento that he hopes this strange man won't notice. But Dazai misses nothing. He smiles kindly, no need to brandish the fact that his plan is working.

"There's plenty enough in there for two." Dazai says, causal, stepping even further back, leaving an opening.

He figured this boy was not alone because while multiple rodents need to be eaten to make a full meal, this boy is still a child. The sheer number of rodents killed says that there's another person with him but the childish method of doing so indicates that his companion is not an adult. No older, experienced hunter, or person for that matter, would skin animals in such a gruesome inefficient way, like peeling a stubborn fruit. It simply isn't logical. And despite the great number of rodents slaughtered it would not be enough to satisfy a fully grown adult appetite anyhow. 

Children simply don't eat so much, so judging by the rough estimation of caracasses Dazai saw in his days of surveillance, their culprit is a child and he's with another child-like person. 

The method, while sloppy, is consistent so only one of them is doing the killing. And then the fact that the companion is not present in the clearing, probably hiding elsewhere, tells Dazai that they're weaker, at least physically. Younger maybe? A sibling? Probably female. Or an elderly/sickly family member (possible)? Grandmother? A pet (children do harbour strange attachments to animals but that would have drawn attention by now withs noise or waste, so it's unlikely)?

No matter what they are, this boy will want food for his companion, if not himself.

The child is impatient, as most children are, and as expected he starts to focus on the food, the thought of it taking over his impaired mind, but his will is steel (for now) so he makes no move towards the clearing. Instead something flares behind him. Brownish tendrils taking on the colour of his soiled, torn shirt. 

"Maybe I should just kill you and eat you instead? You don't look like you have a lot of meat on you either, but surely a lot more than any squirrel? You'll taste the same after you've been cooked anyway."

Dazai buries his surprise as quickly as it appears. Instead, he laughs.

"Cannibalism, hmm? What an interesting way to go. I'd be in, so long as you make it as painless as possible. I hate pain, and besides when prey struggles or feels fear the meat becomes tough."

The boy makes an "???" horrified expression.

"Ha ha! Just kidding! I totally tricked you didn't I? Well, it wasn't a lie, but sadly you cannot kill me today. But turning to eating other humans is really quite bold of you. You remind me of my dog. I'm sure he'd appreciate your zest for life, the way you cling so desperately to this mortal coil. I could help, you know, if you'd just hear me out."

"How do I know you aren't an ability trafficker, that you haven't done anything to the food?"

Dazai shrugs, cool as ever, "You don't."

"Well, whatever you say about your strength, nobody wins against my Rashoumon. She'll eat you alive and spit out your bones for the vultures! And from what you said, I don't think you'll mind. So why don't I just kill you right now!"

Dazai laughs again, amused at the boy's brashness. 

'Much like Chibi.'

"How do you know I haven't surrounded the place with my men."

"I don't, but I'd slaughter them all anyway."

"You? Don't you mean, "she"? It's your ability that kills, not you. You are nothing but a defenceless child. And against me, that is what you will realise."

The boy flinches back visibly, then strikes out, sending a tendril towards Dazai's chest.

Dazai extends a hand, and as soon as the tip of his finger meets the tendril, it dissolves. The boy looks at Dazai in shock. He tries to summon it again, relieved when it manifests, that his ability has not been stripped completely from him. With determination, he strikes again, and again Dazai nullifies his ability, and then once more. 

The boy does not try a fourth time. He knows he would lose a fight without his only weapon. Dazai has won.

"Do you now realise that it is not you who is strong, but your ability? I can help you to become strong. . . . However, it is still your choice. Either way, take the food as a token of my kindness. There's a card inside, you can always find more food at that address."

The boy looks down for a minute then, using his ability to reach into the clearing, grabs the bento and scampers off. He hasn't gone far, Dazai can still hear him, up in a tree with his companion, a young girl by the sound of it.

-

While the two eat, Dazai explores the area, seeing places in the ground that look as if there was nothing there to begin with. Black holes tinges with shimmering red. A tear in space itself. Dazai guesses that the boy used his ability to eat up the fires once they were done with them, seeing as he can see and feel traces of the so-called "Rashoumon"'s vibrations around the blank patches.

'An ability that's almost alive! How intriguing! He reminds me so much of Chuuya. But if he's anything like Chuuya's corrupted state . . . What exactly is the extent of his ability? I'll need to be ready for it when they wake. What kind of containment cell should I prepare? I'd best call Mori. Ugh.'

Just as Dazai arrives back in the clearing, the two children come crashing down from their hiding spot with heavy thumps. The boy was right, Dazai drugged their food, a simple yet effective sedative, made to last an entire 24 hours.

Dazai hums as he drags them off, the melody echoing through the trees, carried by haunting winds.

-

The boy is cold when he wakes, cold and confused. He looks down and sees that he is wearing only his underwear. Much to his embarrassment. He has never felt so naked in his life, even when he was wearing nothing at all in a public bath house and all the other boys stared at his scars.

"Gin!" He gasps, looking around frantically, worried his younger sister may have been exposed as well.

'If they violate her . . . I'll slaughter them all!'

After a few minutes of searching, his eyes having to adjust to the dark as he looks out the window of his bright cell, he sees her. In another cell, almost identical to his, she lies, unconscious, but looking unharmed. Her diy binder and underwear are still on and her long hair is in a tight bun.

His sister, Gin, is only 12, two years younger than him, but sometimes, she looks almost the same age. Now, laying on the ground, shivering, she looks younger, like a child.

The boy pounds on the window, but it doesn't budge. 30 minutes later it still gives no indication of giving way. All that's been accomplished are sore arms and bruised knuckles.

"Don't bother," says a voice, cool and detached. It's coming from somewhere in the cell, but the boy can't see where. He scrambles around to find it, crouching to cover himself. 

"That window isn't glass, it's polycarbonate. There's no hope of you ever breaking it. Not without your ability, at least."

"Wh-who are you!" The boy growls, his voice trembling with rage and humiliation, and fear he wishes he didn't feel.

"I am Mori Ougai, leader of the Port Mafia. This is subfloor 7, where we keep the special interrogation chambers. The inside of the cells are padded with a fabric woven with anti-ability alloys. To put it shortly, you are defenceless."

The boy sinks down at this news.

Mori speaks again, ignoring the boy's panic. "Please forgive us for scaring you, and for removing your clothes. That was my subordinate's idea. He noticed that your abilities seem to stem from your garments so we had to take those. After all, we didn't want you trying to use your ability to escape, seeing as that would only result in more pain for all of us." 

The boy growls again, much weaker this time, but still refusing to be beaten.

"My subordinate told me you can speak, and that you have quite the mouth, so surely you wouldn't mind answering a few simple questions? What do you say? . . ."

Despite Mori's friendly tone and smile, the boy gives no answer.

"Nothing? Alright then. Well let's start with something simple. What is your name? Do you know it?"

The boy still does not answer.

"Please keep in mind that not answering could be not so good for your little sister over there."

The boy looks up, his gaze utterly defeated.

"Akutagawa."

"No given name?" Mori asks, teasingly.

"Ryuunosuke." the boy spits through gritted teeth, "Akutagawa Ryuunosuke."

"Ryuunosuke. What a nice name. How is it spelt?"

Out of fear Ryuunosuke answers promptly, "'Dragon', 'son', and 'of'. "

"Son of the dragon, hmm, and how about your lovely sister?"

"Silver."

"Ah, Ghin."

"Don't touch her!"

"Don't worry, your sister is perfectly safe. You could free her if you just answer the rest of our questions. There's only five more. Okay?"

"Could" A suggestion, not a guarantee. But Ryuunosuke is far too stressed to pay that any mind. He tries to stand, but falls down, still drowsy from the poison.

Mori holds up one finger, "One: What is it exactly that your ability can do?"

"Rashoumon is a beast, she can cut through anything, even space itself."

Mori nods, putting up a second finger, "I see. Two: Does your sister share your ability?"

"No. She doesn't. Don't you dare hurt her, I'll kill every single one of you and feed you to the pigeons."

"Yikes! Three: Does your sister have an ability of her own?"

"No. She's human. She's not a monster, let her go."

'"Not a monster" He must think lowly of himself, and who wouldn't with a monstrous ability like that. Self loathing, ah, a classic. This kid is doing life right, he'll make the perfect new protege. If only he weren't so weak though . . . At least he'll be easy to manipulate.'

Mori shakes his head and raises his thumb, the fifth and final digit on his left hand. "No, not yet, one last question. Number five: would you like to work for the Port Mafia? And before you answer, please know that we can provide both you and your sister with not only a healthy salary but food and shelter as well." he lets that sink in before finally asking, "Now, what says you?"

Ryuunosuke knows he shouldn't even consider it. He should be disgusted at the very notion. He knows this. And yet it's so alluring, like a light at the end of a pitch dark tunnel, a message from a saviour who's finally decided that he's suffered enough. 

Most children, he thinks, would start screaming or maybe break down crying (to be honest he's not sure what their reaction would be, having hardly been around any other children). But he isn't like most children and he's been killing his entire life for survival. 

He recalls the first time he'd used Rashoumon, it was also his first kill. His mother, Fuku, had gotten pregnant far too young with a man named Niihara Toshizou who ran and left her with nothing when he'd found out he'd have to commit to a family with this young girl. He couldn't bear the thought of wearing his mistake, and the shame of his desire for the next nearly two decade until Ryuunosuke would be old enough to live on his own, so like the greedy, selfish, coward he was, he ran.

— 13 Years Ago —

Ryuunosuke was a year old when his still too young mother had gotten back together with his father. His family had shamed and guilted him into finding her and making an honest woman out of her because they knew there was no way he'd ever make an honest man out of himself. They'd disgraced him, so disgusted by his desire for women so young and so he'd come crawling back to Fuku out of simple dog-like desperation. 

"Fuku-chan," he begged, "Let me in! Give me another chance . . . please." until she, at the time, still a weak woman, gave in.

They seemed happy for a while and then another year later, Fuku found out she was expecting again. Ryuunosuke didn't understand the concept of babies yet, but he sensed that something was wrong, very wrong. And he was right. His father was going to leave again. His mother was so angry, and so upset, at herself for her foolishness and this man for his manipulativeness. She slapped him, he slapped back, his hand expectedly more powerful. His mother fell, Ryuunosuke caught her fall with Rashoumon, a reflex. He didn't even understand, at the time, that it was him who'd done it. 

To anyone who knows him now, the beast, having taken on the colour of Ryuunosuke's pale blue and white striped onesie, would almost look cute. But in the moment the tendrils rising from the small boy looked as menacing as hunting dogs about to pounce.

Then his father pulled the gun, he did not notice his son's ability taking form, his gaze too narrow, vision too stained with red. All he saw was his "disobedient" girlfriend and the "no good" offspring growing inside her, meaning another year he'd have to stay with her.

Rashoumon could have grabbed the gun and been done with it but she, like Ryuunosuke, was a baby and all she knew was that her master wanted her to save his mother. Her reflexes were a little slow back then, and by the time she acted, the bullet was in the air. She threw herself at it and the bullet was lost in her jaws, swallowed whole. 

His father blinked, stunned, horrified, disgusted. How had he given life to this freak? He fired again and again and again. Rashoumon dutifully swallowed each bullet until she was getting quite full, not yet a boundless empty space. And so, like a child disgusted with what it has swallowed, she spit it out. The bullets launched from her jaws, embedding themselves into various parts of the man who'd fired them. One made its home right between his eyes. He was dead. But she did not stop. Her master poured all of the anger he sensed from his mother into her and she ripped and tore until their tiny flat was covered in blood and bones and his father no longer resembled a human.

His mother screeched,a sound of pure horror. Ryuunosuke started to bawl, thinking he was in trouble. But why? Mother did not love this man? Then she hugged him. And Rashoumon, being very tired from her first time out in the world, fell promptly asleep against her mother's shoulder.

They went to live with her uncle, a poor but kind man named Akutagawa Doushou. He'd lived alone ever since their mother's older sister had been killed in a mugging.

Gin was born when Ryuunosuke was two. While still at the hospital, his uncle told his mother, "You cannot care for one child, much less two. Go. Go live your life as a young adult. Fall in love . . . properly this time, have children by someone who isn't a disgrace."

"No. Are you mental? I can't just leave them! They're my kids!"

"They are a mistake, evidence of your incompetence, a reminder of what not to do again and they've polluted your bloodline with that sewer vermin of a man. Having kids so young will drag you down forever. You're already behind in school, if you try your hardest you could only be a year late to university."

"We can't afford university!"

"For you, my beloved wife's favourite sister, I will find the money if I have to summon it from the end of the rainbow itself. But you have to want to change to be better and you cannot do that with these two. If people know you are a teen mother no one will hire you and no man or person for that matter will want you. I am just trying to protect you. Please listen. I am your older brother now, it is my job to help you and cover for you when you make childish errors. I'll take care of them. You may visit when you like but as much as it pains me, I suggest that if you want to move on, leave us entirely. Go to a small quiet town and start over as a better version of yourself. Study as hard as you can, and when times come I'll pay for university. Come back when you have a good respectable well paying job and a husband who will forgive your carelessness and see the woman you've become then. When that happens I will gladly give you back your children. For now, I am keeping them, for your own good. I'm sorry, sister, I really am."

"You . . . you can't . . ." but she knew he was right. "At least . . . at least let me name her."

"Of course."

"Gin, my beautiful child. I name you after the colour silver. Please shine for me, okay. Shine so I can find you when I'm ready. Okay. Wait for me." she looked at her eldest son, "Wait for me, both of you. I have to go now, take care of her, Ryu."

The boy couldn't understand the words so much yet but he could hear her tone and see her big sad eyes.

The adoption paperwork was done right then and there, and their mother disappeared out of the hospital doors and into the crowded sidewalk, and into a cab. She was headed to Ihatovo, a small farming village where no one would know of her previous life choices.

His uncle took Ryuunosuke into his arms, patting his back in sympathy. They now shared a surname.

They lived together like that for seven years. But after the war ability users had become something to be feared, something other. Alien and dangerous. A strange new race. A genetic mistake. A plague. A new breed of hybrids designed to overthrow humans. Those are just some of the ways the news programmes described ability users. It was true, many ability users were criminals, but some were just ordinary people, children. His uncle had no idea Ryuunosuke had an ability until he saw the then five-year-old boy use it to put down a diseased squirrel. Looking at his nephew, the uncle could see none of the foul things, only a child with a heart too big for his own good.

How could anyone want to detain or experiment on someone like him?

After that his uncle told him not to use his ability outside anymore, afraid someone might see. He wanted to start homeschooling him but he had to work if he was to have enough money to feed them and pay for their mother's last year in university. (She worked, but it was barely enough between them.)

In compromise the uncle prepared a plan for if they were ever going to be arrested, and they lived with their belongings in a suitcase in case they had to run.

It was all very silly to the children, like a game, a distant threat, like a war in another country.

Eventually, the crackdown on ability users reached their neighbourhood. One of their neighbours must have seen Ryuunosuke using his ability to help with chores through the window and been fooled by Rashoumon's intimidating appearance.

The now 9-year-old had just gotten home from school and was picking a fig for a snack, from the small tree on the terrace, when the first, rudiementery iteration of the Special Operations Division came knocking. They did not yet have special tools for making the apprehending of ability users smooth and painless. They were no better than the regular police, just with government titles and a bigger sense of authority to match.

The uncle could see the men through the door viewer, a squad with guns, carrying handcuffs and a cage.

Fighting the urge to freeze he picked up now seven-year-old Gin from her homework, (a small reading passage where she would circle and define her vocabulary words), and set her in her room. 

"Coming in one moment, my broth is about to boil over! Forgive me!" He called the lie loud enough for those outside the door to hear him. He thanked the gods that they believed his lie.

As quick as he could he emptied the children's possessions consisting of a few plushes, combs and toothbrushes, into their suitcases. Sadly, but today, thankfully, they had few things to carry, and zipped it up.

"Now, Gin. I love you, but you can't stay here anymore. You have to go. Go with your brother, he'll know what to do. I'll find you if I can."

She nodded, her chin wobbling. Tears dripping down her soft cheeks, she ran to the terrace. Her brother turned around, facing his uncle in terror at the sight of his crying sister and her suitcase. 

The uncle nodded. 

The two stood upon the rusty balcony railing and jumped. Using Rashoumon like stilts they escaped over the low shacks and sad, sagging flats like theirs in the slum neighbourhood. 

"I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting, how may I help you?" the uncle asked, bravely facing the officers.

"Are you Akutagawa Doushou?"

"Yes."

"You're the adoptive father of Akutagawa Ryuunosuke and Akutagawa Gin, yes?"

"Those wretched brats? I was, but I quickly discovered how troublesome they were. I dumped them in an orphanage years back, and good riddance. You can try to find them, but it's not worth it. They were both useless scum. Take a look around if you like, not that this place is anything special."

The foul words stung in his throat, but he had to lie if he was to throw them off the scent.

"We've been observing this place, people have reported seeing you with children. What do you have to say?"

"Nothing. Well actually, they must be blind as bats. I've never had any children, my wife died before we could, and she is the only one I will ever love so I will never have any. The only children I'd want are hers, that's why I dumped the brats."

The officers huffed at the lack of evidence, but it couldn't be helped. The children's bed rolls were in their suitcase and their few things were long gone with them, including the only photo he'd taken of them, a blurry polaroid from Gin's first birthday.

'Please, god, let them be okay. And let these people leave us all alone.'

Having no more cause to search they headed for the door.

"We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience, good sir, our condolences for your wife. Have a good day."

And with that they were gone, and so were his niece and nephew.

-

When they were far enough they started to run on foot, not knowing if they'd ever see their uncle or mother again.

— Port Mafia - Subfloor 7 - Present Day —

What difference does killing make, since he's probably going to hell either way, if he gets paid and fed to do it. This is an opportunity to use his skills and show what he's good at, to prove his worth to the universe who discarded him like the garbage in the first character of his surname. This is his chance to kill with justification to kill in anger just as he's always wanted to but never let himself. This is his excuse. His excuse to get back at the world which has caused him and his sister so much pain. 

With no hesitation, and quicker than Dazai had expected, he agrees. Both Mori and Dazai can see the fire in his eyes. The determination to kill and be the best at it. 

'Now this I can work with. I'll have him start training with Dazai at once.' Mori thinks.

"Excellent. Unfortunately we've thrown out your old clothes, they were very dirty. We thought you could use some new ones. Promise you won't attack us?"

"Of course. As long as you keep up your end of the deal and don't hurt Gin."

"Of course. Let's get you and your sister cleaned up."

Dazai presses his palm against a screen and punches in a 15 digit code. Ryuunosuke leans his head around as far as he can but the keypad is angled for the exact purpose of preventing someone inside from seeing the code. Not that it would be much help if they're already inside but Ryuunosuke supposes that if someone came to free him he could simply use his fingers to show the numbers. He also suspects, though, that it changes frequently.

When he steps out Dazai drapes his trench coat over the shivering boy's shoulders.

"Thank you . . ." he trails off, not sure what he's supposed to call his strange bandaged saviour.

"Dazai. . . . Osamu Dazai. That is my name."

WIth nearly reverent respect, he bows. "Thank you, Dazai-san."

It's Mori who answers. "The Port Mafia is your home now, you're most welcome."

Mori unlocks Gin's cell, blocking the keypad with his body.

The sibling wakes at the sound of the door opening, looking down in surprise. She looks at her brother, fear in her wide eyes. He nods.

-

The shower is the first the siblings have taken in weeks and the water stings their skin, alerting them to all the cuts they hadn't realised were there. They linger under the hot water for longer than necessary but no one scolds them. They're in the large infirmary shower room so it comfortably fits both of them with room to spare.

When Ryuunosuke is done washing himself, he goes to help his sibling with their hair. Gin's hair now that it's down from the bun looks different. They both come to the realisation that someone must have worked with it while they were asleep. Taking the opportunity to properly work through the knots and snarls in it. Gin smiles the way they haven't in a long time.

Still, both of them wince at the grime that comes out of their hair as Ryuunosuke works through the freshly untangled stands. Eventually the shampoo out and conditioner is used and when that's rinsed too Gin looks less like a sewer rat and more like a respectable human again.

When they get out there are clothes waiting for them. For Ryuunosuke some of Dazai's old clothes, a black collared shirt, black trousers and black converse, even the underwear is black.

'Is Dazai-san a goth?' Ryuunosuke wonders as he slips on the clothes. 'That would explain the bandages . . . maybe.' Dazai's shoulders are broader than Ryuunosuke's but other than that the fit is fine and the trousers and shoes are comfortable. The coat is still there, hanging over the doorknob where he put it after he took it off. He'll have to return it later.

In Gin's pile are some of Yosano's old things, both feminine and neutral clothes as per the Angel's suggestion. There's a note on top of the sports bra.

"These were the best we could do on such short notice, come to the infirmary when you can and I'll take your measurements for a proper binder. ~ Yosano (Port Mafia Medical Department lead)"

Gin feels herself tearing up at the thoughtfulness.

To be honest the binder was just something they did out of practicality when they couldn't afford bras, at least at first. Until they began to realise how good it felt to have options because they sometimes felt like a they, or a he. 

Gin stands in the mirror, turning at every angle, looking over themself. They've always liked their androgynous appearance, the way it could change to match what they wanted to express. Sometimes that was the one thing in their life they had control over.

'My hair . . . it's longer than I thought now that it's been detangled. Should I cut it? No, I like it this way, more options. Long hair guys are really cool. I could totally rock it!' 

After a moment of consideration Gin picks the red tee shirt (putting it on over the sports bra and tank top) and the blue jeans.

There's also a note in the pocket of Ryuunosuke's trousers.

"Kentarou will escort you to my office where you'll receive a proper welcome. ~ Dazai."

The siblings enter the greater infirmary area and see a boy with spiky black hair and sharp eyes, the colour of the ocean that the siblings have only seen in pictures, waiting for them. He looks a few years older than the Akutagawas and wears a metal choker (almost resembling a collar) containing a single blue gemstone. There's no shine in those eyes like it's all been snuffed out, or sucked away, replaced with a fierce biting kind of gleam. When he smiles Gin notices that his teeth look almost fang like. 

'Is that a real sapphire? He must be really rich. Is he an executive? He must be.' Gin thinks.

"Hey. So you two are the Demon Prodigy's newbies. Well, I guess I knew the mafia wasn't below recruiting kids, but you two are just pitiful looking."

'Demon Prodigy?' Gin wonders about the nickname nervously.

"We volunteered." Ryuunosuke answers stiffly, glaring at the older boy.

"I'm sure that's what you think. But trust me, they manipulated you somehow, especially if you're stuck with Demon-san. It doesn't matter now. I would say you're lucky not to be under Bennett-san but if you got stuck with Demon-san, maybe you're not." Kentarou scoffs cynically, swiping a black card and pressing the button on the lift. "It's nice for me though, two less people I have to watch die. And I get to come up here, to the big-shot floors."

The lift opens, Kentarou looks straight at the camera as he gets in, the look in his eyes a daring one. Once they're all in, the lift begins to rise.

It dings after only a minute and a half, opening out onto a naturally lit corridor with dark wood flooring and wall panelling, it leads onto another corridor looking much the same. The wood has been stained to bring out the red accents, giving the space a faint orange glow in the sunrise. 

"This is the Executive Office floor. Demon-san's office is the last one on the left. I've got to go, Bennett-san is waiting for me. The idiot schemer's treating me like a surveillance drone, scouting out the top. He asked me to tell him what it's like up here, but I have to say he was right about it being nice, eh?" Kentarou sighs, chewing on his lip, annoyed. He leaves before the siblings have to answer.

-

Dazai-san's office is plain, only a desk and chair, an uncomfortable looking one at that. Instead of chairs on the other side of the desk there's a wooden bench. It doesn't look as if he spends much time here. 

There are no windows, it's like a prison cell. Ryuunosuke notices that the walls look odd, as if thicker than they should be, but he remembers Kentarou's words and is afraid to inquire. He shouldn't be, they've caught Dazai on a good day (depending on your definition of good). He's feeling chatty and upbeat and if you asked him he'd deny to the ends of the earth that a certain ginger confirming his feelings are returned has anything to do with it.

"How did you two like Bennett's boy-toy? He's a mean one, isn't he? I'm sorry about him, I couldn't find anyone else, and Bennett was happy to lend him out for a bit."

"Ben-nett?" Gin fumbles over the foreign name.

"Yes, and Englishman. He's a bit of an idiot. A recently hired mafioso with hopes of becoming an executive. Mori hired him for his unique ability but he's proving to be quite difficult. We'll probably fire him soon."

"Oh."

Still nervous, the siblings go back to observing the room. They don't ask what Bennett's ability is.

The most interesting thing about the room is the wall where the window should be. On it is a shelf with rolls of bandages stacked in a pyramid, the way one might find towels at a fancy hotel. And under the shelf, mounted to the wall is a violin and its bow. And next to that is an upright piano.

Dazai notices Gin looking at the string instrument. "I hate that thing. I wanted to burn it, but Mori said it was too nice to burn and since I'm hardly ever in here I put it up there. Sometimes I throw things at it."

Gin is braver than her brother, "If you hate it, Dazai-san, why do you have it?"

Dazai laughs cruelly, remembering the feel of the baton crashing against his hand. "I was forced into lessons as a child, because of my slender fingers. My mother thought I looked so elegant, but she was not what one would call motherly, so, naturally that means I am definitely never touching an instrument again."

That's a lie. It's what Dazai wishes he felt. He wants to never give that damned woman the satisfaction of touching that damned instrument again, but of course, because nothing can ever be easy for him, playing is the only thing that brings him back to himself when he feels he's slipping over the edge. That's what the sound proofed walls are for.

He used to hate it, but then Chibi confessed to enjoying his music. He thinks that maybe loving the instrument could be different from loving his parents. He can barley remember them now anyways.

"Was? Did you kill her?" Ryuunosuke asks, forgetting his fear in favour of his signature bluntness. This time he sounds almost admiring, like he's almost hoping that Dazai did indeed kill his cruel parent. After all, if that was the case, then they'd have something in common.

"Fair point. I suppose she is still out there being awful, maybe she even had another child, but I'm not suffering from it, so it doesn't matter anymore."

The first indication of Dazai's heartlessness.

"What about the piano?" asks Gin, choosing to ignore the comment.

"Oh, Mori-san plays. He was taught in his youth as well, only he chose to continue pursuing music. Somehow, probably through The Clairvoyant, he found out I could as well and offered to let me use the grand in his office, when I refused, he bought this. It was in here when I got in one afternoon. Like I said I don't come in here much, so I'm not sure exactly when he installed it."

Ryuunosuke wonders who this mysterious Clairvoyant is. 'Is that another executive? I've heard that they use code names in the mafia?' He also doesn't miss the bitterness in Dazai's voice at the mention of Mori-san.

"Do you not like Mori-san?"

"No, it's not that. I understand him, he's just like me and I despise people who're like me. Not because I want to be unique or anything like that but I hate that I despise him for the same things I refuse to call myself out for. How can I disrespect and hate him, when we're exactly the same, not that I like or respect myself much. Negative feelings notwithstanding, I owe him and I despise being in that kind of debt. 

He provided me with refuge and purpose and a hobby, and a loyal dog. Now, I'm not here because I feel I owe him. Don't get the wrong idea. I'm here because I honestly enjoy my work, as I'm sure you two will. He isn't some benevolent parent, most things I want I get on my own. But he has spoiled me, by allowing me to live such a free, luxurious life* that someone such as myself hardly deserves. And yet, despite it all I cannot make myself be grateful or appreciative. Besides, he could never give me the one thing I truly desire. But still he gave me something my own father couldn't . . . understanding only a fellow tainted soul could provide. So, I dislike him in the way that ungrateful, rebellious children dislike their parents."

(A/N: *lives in a shipping container)

The young Akutagawa siblings, yet inexperienced in the ways of the world and Dazai don't understand most of what he said, but they nod as if they do.

"Ahh," Dazai stretches lazily, " don't worry about it. You'll understand one day. Perhaps you'll even come to feel that way about me."

The Akutagawa's aren't sure what to say to that.

"Dazai-san, sir, here's your coat back." Ryuunosuke holdsthe now neatly folded trench to his new superior. His words wobble the silence but don't break it. Dazai can already tell he possesses many rare traits like that.

"Keep it."

"What . . . sir?" He tacks the honorific on in the end, having originally forgotten it in his surprise.

"It's tradition. You'll have the misfortune of seeing Chibi's ugly tacky hat sometime soon, I'm sure. He got it when he joined, from the person who caused him to join. Now you get this from me."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't call me sir. I'm not old and I don't plan on living long enough to get where kids need to call me sir. I'd look horrible with grey hair, don't you think?"

They aren't sure whether or not it's a trick question and don't want to upset Dazai, so they just shrug. When the two of them do it in unison it's a bit creepy.

"I see you two are the more stoic types. That's good then. We'll get along well. I'm not your brother or father, I expect you not to go weeping and crying when I don't want to talk to you. Now, for the real purpose of this meeting: your training. Your ability is useful but it'd be awfully irresponsible of me to send you out into the field with no combat training. Your ability is no good if you don't know how to use it."

"I know how to use Rashoumon!" Ryuunosuke protests, hating how Dazai's gaze makes him feel weak and useless, like a baby, and sends his cheeks burning with humiliation.

'What does he know? He has no offensive ability! And he has no idea what it's like to live in the streets. He's just some rich-kid runaway that got scooped comfortably up!' Ryuunosuke thinks bitterly. He hates when people patronise him, even unintentionally by acting older or smarter than they are, and this is very intentional. But he has not yet seen that the Demon Prodigy is in no way shape or form, a child. He is exactly as smart as he proclaims to be. In a week or so he'll wonder how he ever thought of him in such a childish way.

"Not properly, you don't. Not in a hand-to-hand fight. You're used to your victims being defenceless animals, or unsuspecting people, when you meet someone with any combat skills you will lose some of that advantage. You must learn how to best exercise your advantage in close-quarters combat as well as long-range attacks. You must learn when to fight . . . and when to stop."

Ryuunosuke freezes. Dazai has seen the murder in his eyes. He would know the look he once wore no matter how far he was. The aura of bloodlust is as visible as any other colour to those who possess bloodlust themselves.

'How did he know that I . . .?'

"You'll be training with me personally. Ozaki-san will train your sibling."

The two nod, oblivious to what awaits them.

[outcastpack]

Theo Raeken Pokemon AU

Theo Raeken is the son of the champion of Sinnoh. He spent most of his life feeling like he was living in his mother Cynthia's shadow and also Tara's. For his 8th birthday he received his 1st pokemon, a Houndour he named Jax who quickly became his trusted companion. Jax evolved into a Houndoom during a battle with the fire type Gym leader and Theo later was gifted the Houndoomite by his mother.

At the age of 10 Theo was introduced to the fighting type bear Kubfu when the pokemon was caught scavenging for food after its trainer abandoned it in the city and helped it find some food. Since that day the bear he learned was named Akira followed Theo around until he became part of the boys team at the age of 16.

Theo was gifted a strange looking froakie by professor sycamore when he was visiting Theos mother after the bubble frog became close to the boy, as it played with Theo and Jax during the professors stay until Sycamore gave Theo the ball telling the boy that Raya had chosen him from the start. It evolved into a Frogadier during a battle with Corey's Kecleon and she evolved into her final form of Greninja during a battle against his sisters Gabite.

Theo captured Luna the Eevee on his journey during one of his encounters with Liam. 2 Eevees were injured during a storm so the 2 of them rushed to help to 2 mons, but since the 2 boys were in the middle of nowhere and the nearest Poke Centre was miles away they had to take shelter in a cave and use what supplies they had on hand to help the 2 Eevees. Luckily they had enough on hand to heal the injuries and after the storm let up the 2 Eevees made it known they wanted to travel with the boys to repay their thanks. Luna evolved into Umbreon during a accidental encounter with a dusk stone in a Evolution stone shop after it was playing around with its sibling Eevee that it hadn't seen in awhile since Theo and Liam had parted ways again. Afterwards the 2 siblings didn't want to part again which forced Theo to travel with Liam and Mason while he was Adamant this was only for Luna and not because he secretly enjoyed Liams company.

While travelling through a forest Theo first encountered the Illusion mon Zoroark after he witnessed it protect a group a wild pokemon from a group of pouchers. It also attacked Theo due to it mistaking him for a poucher causing the boy to have to fight back with his own mons. Eventually the illusion mon and Theo teamed up against the Poachers before thr mon secretly started following Theo around before joining his team during a Gym battle against the Fighting type Gym leader.

Helios the Hydreigon had technically been with Theo since before the start of his journey when the boy wandered upon a group of Scientists experimenting on the Dragon Hydra. Theo sent out his own pokemon to help cause a distraction while he grabbed the Hydreigons pokeball and rescuing the mon. The mon had lost trust in humans and refused to obey or let Theo help it no matter how hard he tried. During a battle against the reigions evil team where they had caused wild pokemon to go berserk Theo was forced to call out Helios and Beg the Hydra to help stop them, the Hydreigon seen the pain the wild pokemon was in and attacked destroying the device being used on them before returning to its ball. Eventually it grew to accept theo as it trainer since after he called upon it he refused ro give up on the Hydra again.

Theo wins a spot in the Reigion championship along with Liam where the best of the best compete including champions.

[roadtogracelandx45]

Living On A Prayer| 1| The West Wing

Summary: Madison Bartlet had to fight for her life when she was younger due to cancer, and to fight to stay out of the public eye with her father's presidency. And now she is in a heated affair with her father's former deputy communications director and presidential cadent Sam Seaborn and now the cancer is rearing its ugly head for a third time. And did she mention that her father's MS took his life from him little by little?

Sam Seaborn/ Madison Barlet (OFC)

30 chapter story

"Oh, We're halfway there, Ohh, living on a prayer." - Livin' On A Prayer- Bon Jovi

One

Washington DC

2002

Former First Daughter Madison Bartlet Dating Former Deputy Communications Director, Sam Seaborn

Is what all the headlines in all the newspapers read the morning after the second youngest daughter of former President Jed Bartlet was seen out with the former deputy communications director of her father's senior staff, Sam Seaborn at a Lakers game in Los Angeles.

Sitting close together, her head tilted towards his as he whispered something to her, and a shy smile formed on the corner of her mouth. And since she was the least known Bartlet daughter, it was all over the news, and of course it was raising problems for not only the Bartlet camp but that of Sam's second senatorial campaign.

The headlines were the first thing that Maddie saw when she woke up and went outside to get the newspapers, leaving Sam sleeping. Something he had done since the campaign started.

All the color rushed out of her face seeing the headline followed by the colored picture, "Sam!" she paused to see if she could hear him stirring but nothing.

"Sam!" She repeated louder as she shut the door and started towards the stairs, "We have a problem."

The familiar tune of Hail to The Chief started playing from her phone paralyzing her with fear. It was her father calling to more than likely yell because she kept this from him and the rest of the family. But they hadn't meant for their relationship to start but it did, they had both been at the same event and he came over and rescued her from a terrible date.

And things just happened. But like her mother said, things happened for a reason and this was one of those reasons.

"Sam!" She repeated as she climbed the stairs towards his bedroom, his phone's ringtone added to the noise. By the time she got into the room, the man had stirred and was looking at her with blurry eyes, "What's wrong Mads?"

She wordlessly tossed the newspaper onto his lap and bent down to pick up her phone from the floor.

"Hi, Dad.' She said into the phone after she flipped the lid up.

"Abigail! What is going on with you and Sam?" Jed Bartlet shouted, causing her to pull the phone away from her ear wincing, she was only ever called by her given name when she was in deep trouble, and she could count on one hand how many times her father had called her by Abigail and not Madison.

She chewed on her bottom lip before locking eyes with Sam who inclined his head in agreement, might as well get it over with, he knew he was going to have the same conversation with his staff.

"We have been dating for the last couple of months, we didn't want to say anything until we knew it was going somewhere."

"Is he there with you?" The anger that had been in his voice had faded and he sounded like the father that just wanted to have his daughter be happy after being unhappy and sick for most of her life.

'Yes sir." Sam piped up, his fingers curling into the paper causing crinkles in it, the younger girl already planning on getting an extra copy of it and saving the clipping like the commutation's staff did back in the day like Mrs. Landingham did.

That old woman loved her father and his family like their own and she would have rooted for them to be together like she rooted for Charlie and Zoey. She had pointed out several times how special Maddie's friendship was with not only Sam but with Donna and Josh.

"We aren't happy that you kept this from us but, as long as you don't hurt her, we will be fine. Madison, take me off the speakerphone, I have to talk to you." Madison pressed the button and put the phone back to her ear.

The former deputy watched her, he had never given much thought about what their future was going to hold and if he wanted to get married, especially with what happened to his parents and his father cheating on his mother and his previous failed engagements.

But this was different, it felt different when she was around. She made him into a better person and he wanted to keep being that person especially with him running for president, Madison would be the best first lady he could have. She had learned from the best in her mother Abby. She knew how things in the world of politics worked and how to handle herself.

He shook himself quickly from his thoughts when he heard Maddie's voice hitch like it had the night he rescued her from that bad date.

"Maddie? What's wrong?" He asked, grasping her elbow and pulling her back towards him on the bed, the worry that had been floating under the surface came back tenfold.

"No, sir, I will be on the next flight out tomorrow. I will bring Sam with me. I am sure the campaign can wait 48 hours without him.'

"If anything we can turn the barn into the headquarters for a few days." Jed's voice met his ears, "We need you all out here."

"Is it back?" He mouthed, there was only one thing that could set Maddie off other than her own health and it was her father's MS.

Maddie nodded her head, her free hand sneaking out to hold his, "We will be there soon Dad, I promise." She snapped the phone shut and almost broke down sobbing instantly. "What are we going to do without him, Sam?"

"Hey, we don't know how bad this episode is yet and if it will take him from us." He returned as he pulled her to rest back on the bed next to him, "Your father is one of the most stubborn sons of bitch I know, it's going to take a lot more than MS to take him from us."

She curled into his side and nodded her head, she needed to get all these emotions out before they boarded the plane back to New Hampshire. She had to be a strong front for not only her father but her family, like they had been for her when she was battling cancer again and she was getting shielded from all the issues that were going on except for when her father got shot. She was terrified that things were going to get bad again like they were when he had the bout in the white house and she was in the hospital sick from cancer treatment.

But Sam was right, they could get through it together, and it would take more than MS to take her father from them. She had enough faith for that and she had to rely on that and on Sam.

They were her support system and she needed to cling to them. That's all she could do.

[professortennant]

14! Sounds very fun and cute

14. when one of them has never had a proper birthday party for whatever reason, and their lover makes it their mission to give them the best day ever, followed by “you didn’t have to do all this for me. just being with you is enough.” “i know. but i thought you deserved ?’’ and their lover smiles, a kiss is shared 

i tweaked the prompt a smidge, it’s more ~inspired by

He knows she's got some hang ups about celebrations. On a teltak headed for Netu all those years ago, he'd slid down the wall to sit beside her while she worked to calm shaking hands, thoughts trapped in the past.

"Cookies," she tells him, voice quavering. "I was baking cookies for my mom's birthday that weekend when my dad told me she was gone."

"Ah." He doesn't know what to say--it doesn't feel like the right moment to share his own hangups about water pistols and grilling hamburgers some days because those are what preceded the loss of Charlie. Instead, he lets his knees fall apart just a little, just enough that it could be an accident, and rest against hers.

She presses back and he knows she understands it's all he can do right now. She rubs a hand over her face, scrubs at it like she can erase the thoughts in her head, before turning to face him. "I haven't really been able to do birthdays after that, not mine or Mark's or anyone's. Not that dad was ever--"

Sam sighs, stopping herself. "It doesn't matter now."

Jack nods, lips pursed, caught between the knowledge of what it is to be a father hurting for your own losses, your own child and his affection for the woman in front of him and the scars of childhood pain.

"I make a pretty mean chocolate cake," he says suddenly, not quite looking at her. He hasn't quite figured out how to get a hold on his changing feelings for his second-in-command and he doesn't want her to get the wrong--or right--idea. She sits up a little, eyes clearer, knee pressing back into his slightly.

"Yeah?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"Maybe birthdays wouldn't be so bad if I didn't do the baking."

This time he can and does face her because teasing Samantha Carter about her cooking is low-hanging fruit. She's burned water off-world and he hadn't even known that was possible. "Well, I think a lot of occasions would be better if we just left you out of the kitchen, Carter."

The half-smile she hides behind a ducked head is enough to let him know she's okay, that they'll be okay. They just need to get through this mission, rescue dad, and make cake.

Easy.

They don't make cake after Netu, though. Sam disappears to Alaska with her father for a week and he disappears to his cabin and tells himself it's pointless to do so, but he stocks his cabinets with flour, sugar, cocoa, and baking staples. Just in case.

They don't make cake after Edora (even though he really, really wants to bring her some cake after he realizes what she's done for him--gratitude cake, he'd call it). They don't make cake after they spend a week on an alien planet sleeping beside each other and staring at the stars, letting lines and boundaries fade gently away (it's for the best, he tells himself, neither of them is ready to...eat cake...together). He tosses the candles he'd bought for her after the zatarc tests. No point in those now. Cake and candles and everything else left inside a room in the SGC.

He can't even bring himself to ask her about wedding cake when he sees the engagement ring on her finger years later.

They continue to not make cake or go fishing or all of the other things they once told each other they'd do. It's all starting to feel like a metaphor, which in his book are only a step above a cliché.

And then--

And then she comes to his cabin with a bare ring finger and slings her duffel down onto the porch and stuffs her hands in her pockets like she doesn’t know what to say or where to go from here. He thinks about handing her a fishing pole and having her sit on the dock beside him, but changes his mind. He knows exactly what he wants to do.

Her birthday is three months away but he can’t wait that long. He hands her a beer, picks up her duffel bag over his shoulder, and tells her to follow. 

She does (and the sight of her duffel thrown atop his beside the couch sends tiny tendrils of warmth down his spine). 

“Jack--” He likes that he doesn’t have to tell her to call him that, that she knows where this is going just as much as he does. It’s never that they’ve been bad at communicating, per se. It’s just restrictions limiting how and what they communicate about that always got a little dicey. 

But her questions stop when he pulls out a bowl and a whisk and baking ingredients that may or may not be out of date. It’s not the point, though. He’ll make her a spectacular, show-stopping cake in three months if that’s what she wants. This is more than birthdays; a different celebration all together. 

“We are making a cake, Carter.” Then, “Well, I’ll make the cake. You’re on ingredient retrieval.”

“Cake?”

He nods sagely. “Cake.”

She tilts her head, searches his face and likes what she finds there: resolve, excitement, trepidation, meaning. 

“Okay then,” she agrees softly. “Cake.”

It’s a dance after that, one they’re surprisingly good at. His kitchen isn’t small, but she makes it smaller by filling in all the empty places where he’s always imagined her to be. Where she could walk around the island, she steps in closer to him instead, her shoulder brushing his. Her fingers linger on the back of his hand when she passes him the bottle of vegetable oil she’d dug out of the pantry. She leans on the counter to watch him carefully measure and level off flour and rising agent and sugar, eyes straying to the flex of his wrist and the tendons in his forearm in a way she would have stopped herself before. She wrinkles her nose at the explosion of cocoa powder and espresso granules on the counter. 

It’s a type of foreplay, he supposes--a gentle entrance into intimacy. He’s pretty sure she wouldn’t mind jumping from nothing to everything based on the way she scoops up a fingerful of batter and sucks on it thoughtfully, eyes never leave his. “It’s chalky.”

He scoffs. “It’s not cooked yet. Trust the process.”

She looks skeptical, but when he turns back around to face her after putting the cake pan into the oven, she licks the remnants of batter off her finger anyway.

They’ve got 20 minutes and he’s got nine years to catch up on. He snags her wrist in his fingers, pulls her closer and settles their joined hands against his chest, his free hand at her hip. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” she whispers, voice thick with the things unexplained and unsaid. The big things, though, the big things he knows. He brushes her hair back from her face, fingertips drifting over her jawline and against her temple. 

He rests his forehead against hers, breathes her in: sun and coconut and the faint aroma of cocoa powder from earlier. 

“We waited a long time for this cake,” she says, pressing her forehead back against his in a playful nudge before pulling away. “It better be good.” 

“I told you it would be the best,” he reminds her, hand drifting down her back. He can’t stop touching her, never ever wants to stop touching her. 

“You did,” she says thoughtfully, eyes sparkling with unshed tears, voice tinged with a little sadness, a little wistfulness. “I’m sorry I doubted.”

“No, no, hey.” He crowds against her, gathers her into a hug and tucks his head into the crook of her shoulder, his lips pressing just so against her neck. She shakes in his arms and he holds her tighter, lifting his mouth to her ear: “We got here in the end. That’s all the matters.”

She nods, nuzzles her cheek against his and wraps her arms around him tighter, swaying slightly from side to side, breathing him and his assurances in. 

(Later, they spend the weekend eating through the cake. He feeds it to her in bite-sized pieces while they’re tangled on the couch watching bad action movies from the 80s. She wraps her tongue around his fingers and sucks each crumb and oh god, he’s going to have a fetish by the end of their cabin stay. She brings the plate out to him one evening on the dock, barefoot and wearing one of his old, threadbare academy sweatshirts. They eat cake and watch the stars and listen to the ripple of water lapping against the shore. He draws the line at cake in bed. “No way, Sam, no crumbs in the bed.” She’s certain she’s changed his mind when she scoops a bit of frosting off the top of the cake and drags it in a line down his neck, her mouth working diligently at licking every last bit up.

Turns out, she’s pretty fond of some celebrations after all.)

[meowmica]

Mitsuri Kanroji and Obanai Iguro

(Assuming this scenario unfolds after a battle with a demon, during which Mitsuri had been single-handedly holding the demon at bay. However, by the time Obanai arrives on the scene, only Mitsuri remains, and now she is the demon that he must kill.)

Perspective: Obanai Iguro ₊˚🎧⊹ ♡

My mind is often a brash place. Conversations with my mother and even my own inner dialogue frequently fill the space. You could say it's a bit noisy, but I've grown fond of it. It serves as a way to preserve their memories—voices, moments, even if they were very little to begin with.

Mitsuri had me captivated from the very start. Her kindness and unwavering beliefs were admirable qualities. However, it didn't temper her hatred for demons; she was merciless in her fight against them. She possessed a unique blend of compassion and strength that made me feel less guarded in her presence.

I, It made me trust her. I looked up to her. But now, I gaze upon someone I do not know. It's not the same Mitsuri I once knew. Instead, I see a haunting transformation, and it fills me with fear. I'm afraid she might influence me in a way that hinders my duties as a Pillar.

Her once gentle, pale-green eyes now gleam with madness and hunger, yet they also appear teary. It's as if her own body is betraying her ideals and thoughts. I struggle to comprehend her feelings, but I yearn to. She looks wounded and exhausted, and I can't help but feel concern for her. What must I do? I am incapable of ending her life. Even if she were to consume me, I doubt I could stop her. All I can manage is to delay her advance. It's as if I am more of a vessel than she is, Mitsuri, who now appears to be under Muzan's control, a ranked demon.

As thoughts consumed me, Mitsuri noticing my still unguarded presence interrupted them with a rather heavy tone, "You were late." Her statement was swiftly followed by another voice, shrill in tone, overlapping Mitsuri's. This individual accused, "Mitsuri, this man had the chance to rescue you, but he failed. He betrayed you, Mitsuri."

She remained still, completely motionless. Her emotions were beyond me. I have never known what a demon felt like, because they didn't hold much importance to me. Just as I was about to delve deeper into my thoughts, she swiftly swung her blade, nearly missing my throat. "Obanai, you shouldn't be idle like this," she exclaimed.

As our blades clashed and screeched, she would occasionally burst into laughter. Sometimes, she would shed tears, and sometimes, she did both. Despite her transformed appearance, every moment spent with her felt endless and kind, just like before. Her essence remained unaltered. It led me to ponder, could it be that demons were, in some way, just like us too? "You're distracted," she finished with a frigid tone as she etched a diagonal scar onto my chest, rendering me incapacitated and struggling for breath. Despite the turmoil in my mind and the injuries I'd sustained, I couldn't allow myself to succumb to death. As a Pillar, it was my responsibility to defeat her, even if it meant facing her, Her.

As we continued our intense battle, I noticed a shift in her usual rhythm, and her movements became more predictable. Thankfully, she hadn't fully transformed yet. Facing her at full strength would have been exhausting. However, something troubled me. She seemed to be slowing down, which was unusual for a recently-turned Pillar. Was she in need of humans to regain her energy? Was she fatigued? Seizing the opportunity presented by her reduced speed, I closed the distance between us, aiming for a spot on her neck that was not aligned with her sword.

But just as I neared her, Mitsuri displayed an unexpected burst of agility. She swiftly ducked and maneuvered behind me, dangerously close to my neck. It was then that I realized something profound. Oh, This whole time, it had been her, Her. She whispered softly into my ear, "Don't leave me." It was Mitsuri who spoke, and I understood her desires.

"Even if you've embraced the darkness, Mitsuri, I'll remain your light," I responded slowly, as she sank her sharp teeth into my neck and injected a vial of blood into my body. "Mitsuri," I gasped, before losing consciousness.

[the-13th-rose]

Whump prompt series for April - Day 1: Distress Call

Whumpee: Asajj Ventress (Star Wars: The Clone Wars)

Based on the 2003 Clone Wars miniseries, and the scene in which Anakin defeats Ventress

She'd tried to stop herself from falling. Desperately reached out with the Force to slow her descent. Someone with her training could take a considerable fall without injury, but Skywalker had been determined to send her to her doom. She had no estimate of how far she'd fallen, but she knew it could have killed her, perhaps if she'd reacted even a moment later.

It took a while for the pain to come. At first, it was only dizziness as she opened her eyes. She drew in a breath, and her senses started to return, starting with a sharp pain in her chest that made her choke. She coughed reflexively, which only made the pain worse. Once she managed to regain control and switch to taking short, shallow breaths, she realized she was lying on her side.

Asajj couldn't summon the strength to lift her head, so she tried to move her legs gingerly instead. She was quick to regret this when whatever injuries she'd sustained in the fall made themselves known with a pain that could tastefully be described as "like a barrage of superheated needles". She nearly choked again.

At the least, being able to feel the damage meant she hadn't been paralyzed by the impact. A small victory. Realizing she wouldn't be able to get herself out of the gorge she'd been cast into, Asajj thought of the holoprojector she'd kept on her person to receive messages from Dooku. She had to send out a distress call, and could only hope the device hadn't broken upon impact the way quite a few of her bones certainly had.

She considered reaching for it, but it didn't take long for her to realize her arms had also been quite damaged. So, she focused and tried to drag it out with the Force. As difficult as focusing was under circumstances in which even breathing required effort, she managed to drag the handheld holoprojector out from the folds of her clothing and close enough to her face.

Hoping it still worked, Asajj managed to move one of her fingers just enough to activate the device. The fact that it came back online at all was practically a miracle.

"Need immediate evac...," she hissed. "Yavin 4...beneath the temple..."

Meanwhile, in Separatist space...

"Sir," called a battle droid from its post. "There's a message from Count Dooku."

General Grievous stalked over to the droid's post, and watched with a slight resting glare as the blue-tinted image of Count Dooku appeared before him.

"General," he began. "I have just received a distress call from one of our new operatives. Asajj Ventress claims she is located on Yavin 4, and requires emergency evacuation."

"...I assume you are telling me this for a good reason," Grievous said blankly.

"Quite right," Dooku replied. "Though she has apparently failed to do away with her target, I believe she may still be of use. Go to Yavin 4 and recover her below the temple, in whatever state she may be. See that she does not perish just yet."

It was not the sort of assignment Grievous was accustomed to. He was a killer above all else, sent to rid the galaxy of his master's enemies. Rescuing anyone, even a comrade-in-arms, was unknown to him. And Ventress...he remembered that name. She had been one of the warriors Dooku had sent him to battle. To prove himself, to test their own worthiness. It was her defeat that had earned him the position he now held.

And yet, it also wasn't like him to disobey his master. At least, not to his face. Or rather, a live projection of his face.

And so, Grievous took a small squadron of droids on a ship to Yavin 4. He stepped out onto ground made soft by recent rain. It didn't take long to find traces of Ventress. Dead Clones scattered about in the jungle, some with lightsaber wounds, others simply with twisted necks or bodies shattered by impact against the great trees.

Following the trail of lightsaber burns, Grievous stalked further into the jungle, and eventually out of it, to a wide field and a ruined temple. Assuming this was the very temple described in the message Dooku had received, Grievous made his way toward the canyon below the temple.

Far below, a body was lying sprawled on its side atop some rubble. Grievous turned around and began crawling down the side of the canyon. He retrieved two lightsabers from his waist and stabbed them into the canyon wall, then quickly slid down the wall while holding onto the sabers' hilts.

Landing upon the canyon floor, Grievous returned the sabers to his waist and approached the body. After standing above the body for a moment, he knelt down to inspect it.

Ventress groaned and feebly raised her head. "...You spared me once...," she muttered. "Are you here to finish me off this time?"

"No," he replied. "My orders are to return you to Dooku alive."

"So...now you're saving my life?" she inquired.

For a moment, the resting glare became a scowl. "I did not spare your life then by choice, and I do not rescue you by my own choice now. Were I in command, I would leave you to your failure. But as much as your weakness disgusts me, I have my orders."

"I am not...weak," Ventress hissed. "I will prove myself yet..."

"When you have recovered, perhaps," Grievous replied, the edge of anger having faded from his voice. "But I doubt our master will grant you further chances. If you hope to remain at his side, you must not make him regret ordering your rescue."

"I...won't," Ventress said.

Grievous stared wordlessly for a moment, then reached out to her with two of his four arms. "Now--don't squirm. You'll only make it worse."

"You're going to carry me?" she replied skeptically.

"Would you rather wait for the droids to lower a stretcher down here?"

"...Fine," she muttered. She gritted her teeth as Grievous slid his arms underneath her body and pulled her closer to his chest with a gentleness she hadn’t thought his mechanical body capable of.

Walking back over to the canyon wall, Grievous used his unburdened arms to claw his way back up. Once at the top, he began stalking back toward the ship. The droids that had accompanied him to the planet hurried off ahead after seeing their leader carrying his wounded comrade.

"Perhaps I should train you," Grievous remarked as he walked.

Ventress turned her head slightly, wincing a bit as she did so, and muttered, "What?"

"Clearly, whatever our master is teaching you is not enough," he elaborated. "When you have recovered, come see me. I will show you how to kill a Jedi."

Day 1 - Complete!

[nebuulaa]

A lil Dav/Nis story following our chat today

Dav had dreamt of Nis before. Most nights since his rescue. Sometimes it was just the sound of her screams and he couldn't reach her. Sometimes it was mundane shit like sitting at the bar before everything went wrong just having a drink with her. Some nights it was him finding her again, her before him after centuries of thinking she was dead. So when Dav saw Nis walk into his Tavern, thousands of miles from home and 200 years since the attack on the ship, he was convinced this was just another dream.

'This is beautiful, looks just like the one back home' Nis looked around, admiring the decor that Dav definitely hadn't deliberately placed to be as close to The Drowned Dame as he possibly could.

'Who the fuck are you?' He asked, tightening his grip on his rakuyo.

'Dav? It's me...it's Nis...' she trailed off and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

'You're not my bird. She's gone, long gone. So I'll ask again. Who are you?' Dav didn't move his hand from the shaft of his sword, he stood several feet away from her unmoving.

'It's me...I promise it's me. I'm sorry it's been so long I've been-'

'Stop. Just stop. You're not her. This is just another dream. I'd know a thing or two about those.'

'The ship.' She started, catching Dav off guard. In his dreams before this was when she usually vanished. 'I died. You already know Husk had my soul and he took me straight to hell. Showed me everyone dying, showed me you dying so when Dale told me you were still alive I-'

Hearing that name after all these years sent a shiver down Dav's spine. He hadn't laid eyes on that vindictive, evil Titan in two centuries but it didn't matter. The fear he felt was all too real.

'What do you mean Dale Nis?'

'I prayed to him. Husk told me he was close to death as the last Titan left alive. Husk said if I could get rid of Dale he'd free me. Answering my prayer took the last fragments of energy he had. He told me where to find you. He'd known....all these years. He knew where you and Note were and yet he did nothing. With his final breath he gave me your location and now...now I'm here. And I'm sorry Dav...I'm so sorry.' Tears fell down Nis' cheeks and Dav fought back the lump in his throat.

'How do I know it's really you?' He asked, drawing his blade.

Nis thought for a second, she didn't know how to prove she was real. Then it hit her. She pointed at the hat on Dav's head.

'My feather. You had one and I had one' she pulled a feather from her bag. Locate object.'

Dav did and the feather in Nis' hand began to glow.

'Nis...it's you' he smiled softly

'It's really me...I'm sorry I came I jus-'

Dav closed the distance between them and threw his arms around his beloved owl.

'Took you long enough', he chuckles

Nis wrapped her wings around them both

'I missed you' She whispered into his shoulder.

The two stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. After several lifetimes apart they were reunited. Nis had spent every day in hell wishing she could go back and change things. But it didn't matter now. She had him back.